#also I am sorry anons who have sent me prompts I promise I have not forsaken you

[the-amber-raven]

Snippet Sunday

So, during the hiatus I started a fic but I ended up setting it aside when the muse hit for the texting fic and then the ghost fic.

With Everything going on this week, I went back and reread it (turns out I'd written almost 10k of it!) Anyway, long story short, I am now determined to finish it so have a snippet of the 'Tommy finds a home fic'.

--

“I trust you,” Tommy objected, taken aback at the claim. His brain jumped back through memories of calls they’d been on over the last couple of months – had he done something to make Nash think he didn’t trust him?  

“You trust me on calls,” Nash acknowledged, nodding. “But I can’t help but think that you don’t trust me to know you.” 

Tommy stared at him. His skin was prickling. His chest was tight, like the wind had been knocked out of him. 

He felt so goddamn perceived and he didn’t know what to do with that feeling. 

“I –” 

Nash gave him a surprisingly patient and encouraging smile, seemingly unsurprised and willing to wait for Tommy to find his voice. 

It took a solid minute, and Tommy had to clear his throat first, but he finally managed to croak out a response. “This was never a place where I could trust being myself.” 

He should have stopped there. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever had a place where I could have that trust.”

The confession barely disturbed the quiet and still atmosphere of a station that was mostly asleep. Despite that, Tommy couldn’t help but give into the paranoia, twisting his neck to make sure there was no one else that could have overheard him.

Thankfully, the only other person upstairs with them was De Nara, who was slumped over an open book on a table in the corner, sound asleep.

Nash must have noticed Tommy’s self-consciousness because he shuffled a little closer, closing in the little bubble they’d created. 

“My question for you, then,” he started, his voice soft and full of empathy, reminding Tommy of the call last week where he kept a nine-year-old boy occupied while they were trying to resuscitate his mother, “is whether or not you think you can grow to have that trust here: in this house, with this crew, with me as your captain.” 

He stopped, giving Tommy a moment to sit with that query for a moment before he continued, speaking more firmly this time, “Because as much as I want you here, my first priority is to make sure that you are in a place where you can thrive.” 

[stayteezdreams]

Scenarios: Stray Kids Hyung Line Finding You Asleep In Their Bed

Scenarios: Stray Kids Hyung Line Finding You Asleep In Their Bed.

~{Maknae Line}~

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Gn!Reader; BestFriend!Lee Know x Gn!Reader (Friends to more); Boyfriend!Changbin x Gn!Reader; Best-Friend!Hyunjin x Gn!Reader (Friends to Lovers).

Requested By: 🔮 Anon

A/n: Even though I'm the one who made the prompt I wasn't really sure what to do lmao so I hope you like it! Also, reader falls asleep on the couch in Lee Knows, not the bed.

Warnings: A couple kisses throughout, but otherwise its all just casual fluff.

Words: Just under 2k

Chris:

He forgot he was going to meet up with you after he was done at the studio.

Glancing at the time he jolted out of his seat, seeing it was late and he had already missed the time he said he was going to meet you.

So he rushed back to the dorm, guilt washing over him the entire time.

He tried texting you the whole way back but his messages went unread.

When he arrived back at the dorm, he was sure you would have given up on and him and left.

The living room was empty, but he saw the light in his bedroom still on.

Quickly entering his bedroom, an apology was out of his mouth before he came to a halt.

You were on top of his bed cuddled up to his pillow, fast asleep, phone in hand. He could see the unread notifications of the messages he sent apologizing blinking on your screen.

He let out a soft sigh and sat on the edge of the bed, watching you. He felt guilty for accidentally standing you up for movie night, but he was glad he could see you like this. So peaceful and at ease, though he was afraid to wake you, fearing you would be angry.

As he adjusted the blanket, covering your legs, your eyes fluttered open, landing on him immediately.

You glared sleepily at him as your soft sleepy voice came out. "You forgot me."

Chris pouted, "I'm sorry baby, I really am."

"Did you finish the song at least?"

He nodded and you smiled softly making his heart skip a beat. "Good." Adjusting your body, you laid your head on his legs as you looked up at him. "You owe me a movie night though."

Chris's chest exploded with adoration as he looked down at you with a smile. Leaning down he pressed a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. "I'll make it up to you I promise."

You nodded sleepily as you threatened to fall back asleep. Chris gently patted your head as he moved you back to your original position. "Just sleep for now baby."

Your fist grabbed his jacket softly as you didn't want to let him go. He grinned as he gradually pulled away from you. Getting himself ready for bed, he held you in his arms until he fell asleep beside you.

Lee Know:

You had been cat-sitting for him while he and his family were away.

He came back a few days before them, arriving late in the evening to surprise you and the cats.

As he snuck in, his heart nearly stopped as he found you in the living room, asleep on the couch, and all the cats sleeping around you peacefully.

Lee Know knew he had developed feelings for you a while ago, but in this moment he really understood just how much he adored you.

He stared at you for a few moments before snapping a few photos on his phone.

Sneaking over to the couch, he crouched down and looked at your peacefully sleeping face. Dori, upon waking up at his presence mewed softly before stretching.

Lee Know pet them softly before looking back at you. He got lost, staring at your face, reaching up, he found himself gently caressing your cheek. His heart leapt when your eyes slowly opened, meeting his as you stared at him silently for a moment.

A soft smile crept onto your face and Lee Know felt his chest clench. "You're back."

He nodded and he spoke softly, "Yeah. I didn't want to wake you."

You stretched, waking up the other cats as they all began to greet Lee Know.

You smiled at the sight. "They missed you."

He grinned, "I missed them too." He looked up at you, "And you."

You rose your brow at his sudden affection, "Me?"

He chuckled softly, "Of course."

Your heart was still racing from waking to find Lee Know gently touching your cheek, now it felt as though it might escape from your chest.

"I missed you too." You admitted, wondering if your feelings for your friend were showing.

He smiled at you for a minute before he rose, "Stay here."

You hummed in curiosity as he left. Coming back a short time later, he was now in his pajamas. Watching him with wide eyes as he adjusted the blanket over you and climbed onto the couch behind you.

You stared at him over your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you from behind pulling you into his chest.

Meeting your gaze he smiled, "Let's sleep."

Both of you were aware of how hard the other's heart's were racing. Silently understanding you both felt the same thing in that moment, lying together in the darkened living room.

Getting comfortable in his arms, he smiled into your shoulder as he held you against him. You felt him press a soft kiss to your shoulder before he pressed his face into your neck and let out a long content breath as he held you in his arms for the first, and definitely not last time.

Changbin:

Changbin was coming home from tour, and you hadn't seen each other for over a month.

His mood was already sour because his flights continuously got delayed. He was supposed to be home hours ago, but luck was not on his side.

All he wanted was to see you, to hold you, to kiss you, to be with you.

By the time they got back to the dorm, he was sure he would have to wait until tomorrow to see you since it was already so late in the night.

Entering into his bedroom, he came to a halt when he saw the best thing in the world.

His eyes grazed over your figure as you slept on his bed. Your phone was lying half-way in your palm, his pillow curled underneath you. You were wearing one of his shirts, and dead-asleep.

Changbin set down his bags, repressing the guttural sound that threatened to escape at the sight of you. The cuteness aggression he was feeling was almost overwhelming as he crouched down beside the bed and stared at your slumbering face.

Unable to resist, he reached towards your face and gently poked your cheek, causing your eyes to shoot open. He felt guilty, but it faded quickly as your sleepy face quickly became more animated as you set eyes on Changbin.

You grinned as you suddenly leapt forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you were now hanging half-way on the bed, your other half in his arms.

He giggled as he held you, all of the stress of his trip back home fading as he finally held you in his arms.

He squeezed you with a groan, "God I missed you."

You mumbled into his shoulder, "I missed you too. You're not allowed to leave again."

Standing up, he laid you on the bed on your back as he leaned over you. "Okay. I wont leave."

He caressed your cheek as he noticed your still tired eyes. "It's late let's sleep, okay? We'll talk more tomorrow."

You nodded with a soft smile before climbing under the sheets and waiting for him. You almost drifted back off before he climbed into the bed himself. Wrapping you in his arms he held you close.

"Thank you for waiting here for me."

Cuddling yourself as close as you could, you breathed in his scent, feeling yourself drifting back to sleep as you mumbled. "I missed you too much to leave."

Hyunjin:

You and Hyunjin often hung out in silence.

Both of you drawing, writing, playing games on your phone, listening to music, etc. Just finding comfort in each others company

There was an unspoken feeling between you that neither of you acted on, always afraid it would ruin your friendship.

So you just spent as much time together as you could, each hoping the other silently new how you both felt.

One evening when Hyunjin was engrossed in a sketch, he hadn't noticed you had gone completely still.

Eventually turning to you to ask about his sketch, he froze as he found you slumbering on the bed.

He stared at you for a few moments, admiring you as his heart ached with the feelings he had been repressing.

Flipping the page of his sketch book, he turned to face you, quickly outlining your figure on paper. He could take a photo of you in your peaceful sleep, but it felt more...intimate, to draw you.

His hands moved swiftly as he sketched, feeling more inspiration than he had in a while. He smiled to himself, realizing that he often drew or painted more when you were around.

Eventually, you found yourself waking up, eyes fluttering open. You saw Hyunjin sitting in front of you, sketching in his book.

You smiled at the sight, the soft smile on his face as he was engrossed in his art.

"What are you drawing?"

Hyunjin's eyes shot up, seeing you staring at him with a soft, tired gaze. He grinned as he continued to sketch. "I'll show you when I'm done."

You nodded softly as your eyes drifted closed again. You didn't fall back asleep, but you lied still, listening to the scribbling of his pencil on paper. Smiling at the occasional hum or annoyed grunt that escaped him.

After a while Hyunjin sighed happily, "Finished."

Opening your eyes, you sat up, stretching as you faced him. Reaching out your hands you motioned your fingers for him to pass it over. "Let me see."

Nervously, Hyunjin gave you the sketchbook. Seeing the way your eyes lit up in surprise as you saw your own sleeping figure on the paper.

You let out a soft chuckle, "You drew me?"

He nodded, "How could I not, you were so cute and peaceful."

You giggled softly, feeling your neck and cheeks grow warm. Seeing something written under his signature at the bottom you felt your heart skip a beat.

"My Muse?"

Looking up you met his gaze as he looked at you softly before nodding. "You are. You always have been."

You bit the inside of your lip as you stared at the words. From your peripheral, you saw Hyunjin lean closer. You assumed he was looking at the picture. Freezing as you looked up, you met his eyes as he stared at you, his face only an inch from yours.

Your voice came out in a whisper. "What are you doing?"

He smiled softly as his eyes glanced to your lips briefly. "Just taking a closer look. Can I draw you more often?"

Nodding mutely, his smile widened as he took the sketchbook from your hands, but kept his eyes locked with yours. Leaning in, he pressed a quick, almost hesitate kiss to your lips.

Your eyes widened a bit as he pulled away. You didn't speak or pull away, so Hyunjin did it again. And then again, before you pulled away with a giggle you couldn't contain.

Hyunjin grinned as he scooted closer to you, this time placing his hands on your face. He pressed the tip of his nose to yours as he stared at you. He caressed your cheek with his thumb before he kissed you again, and as you kissed him back, he deepened the kiss.

When he pulled away he let out an excited noise that made you laugh as he pushed you back onto the bed and lied beside you. You stared at each other for a few moments in silence as he gently held your hands.

"Stay with me?"

You nodded softly as he pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you. Lying in silence together for a while, your pounding hearts eventually calmed as you fell asleep in each other's arms.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669, @tinyelfperson,

@pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop,  @shymexican

Stray Kid Taglist: @laylasbunbunny, @skz1-4-3, @prettymiye0n, @thunderous-wolf, @thedistractedwriter,

@briqnne, @dinossaurz,  @staytiny2000, @msauthor,

@vnessalau, @dancinglikebutterflywings, 

Changbin: @lieutenantnLee Know: @hongjoongsprincessHyunjin: @dear-dreamie

-Taglist Form-

[imthefemalemonster]

Hello hope you are well! I am not sure if it is on your blog or someone else’s, I couldn’t find it again 😭😭 but an anon said to a aegond prompt:

Aegon faking his death to escape the pressure, running to highgarden where a young lady tyrell took pity on him but to keep him hidden basically made him crossdress as her lady in waiting and dye his hair with henna making look like young alicent.

Aemond on a tour first saw him and had suspicions that it was actually Aegon (cuz mans obsessed with his older brother) and still decided to pursue this lady and made their mother arrange their marriage or something, and aegon is now sweating buckets cuz he can’t get in bed with Aemond, he will know he is a man or something. But yeah they somehow ended up staying married with people getting more suspicious of this tyrell lady or something over the years especially since Aegon doesn’t bear any children or something (until they contacted a lysene whore who became their surrogate while they were on a anniversary honeymoon trip) and they came back with a baby boy.

If it was yours, I would probably have to scroll deep to find it since it doesn’t seem recent. If its not, feel free to go ham with the prompt if you are still taking. Hope you have a wonderful day and don’t end up crazy like me going through all corners of Aegond tumblr today😭😭

Hello, I'm doing well thanks sweetheart ♡

OK - I was thinking a lot about your ask lately and first of all so sorry I'm not the person this prompt was sent to!

I really loved it when I read what you sent, added it to my requests list but I haven't really found any motivation to write it. The thing is that I LOVE the prompt so much (the runaway, arranged wedding, etc) but I definitely think this is such a good prompt it needs multiple chapters, a lot of context, slowburn, and also it's quite different from what I write. I have chosen not to write it (for now) because I'm focusing on other prompts/ships. And if I ever start to write it (I'll let you know on my blog), I definitely want to make it slow, explore it, like really make it a whole story more than just a 1 or 2 chapter fic. (if it makes sense) (?)

But thank you for sending it though, I'm keeping it close, if anyone is interested to write something I would love to read it ♡

I hope you have a wonderful day too anon and I'm sorry it too so long to answer, like I said I'm still interested but can't promise I'll start writing it anytime soon. (♡♡)

[andorerso]

Damn, I was ecstatic to see BRR is getting a new chapter soon, and then wanted to cry reading how you felt. Cause how can anyone anything but love the magical way you write, flesh and bone, and heart?! I’m beating myself up now - been rereading your stories lately and had a 3-AM-urge to dm you just the other day to say how much I love your writing, and that it’s been such a solace in a very turbulent time for me. Didn’t end up sending it cause said turbulences overwhelmed, and i SHOULD have!

[still same anon – I promise its the last one] ps. Keep your head up, let only your constructive criticisms get to you and thank you, thank you for having the bravery to share <3 pss. And if that prompt happens to lead to a 10k Cassian POV of the entirety of “but we're still sleeping like we're lovers” I swear i’m going to die and scream and kick and arghh! It doesn’t even have to be smut, I just go unhinged over the way you write what’s in his head. <3 take care

anon.... this is the nicest message I've gotten in a while, I don't even know what to say 🥺😭

I'm gonna keep your second ask which has the prompts so I can publish it when it's done, but I wanted to respond to the other two so here goes.

I'm sorry you're going through a tough time, but it makes me very emotional to know my stories offered some comfort, it's genuinely the best compliment someone could give me, and I'm giving you a hugeeeeee virtual hug! I don't often cry at comments/asks, but this one definitely made me tear up in a good way. I hope things get better for you soon <3

Funnily enough, you're not the only one who asked for more of "but we're still sleeping like we're lovers"! Although the other prompt wanted to see the morning after, so that's something to look forward to as well. Honestly, I didn't realize this story stayed with people so much, so that's very interesting to me, but I'm happy to provide and I'll see what I can do about that Cassian POV 💖

And don't worry, BRR will still happen! I've gotten quite a few prompts (thanks to everyone who sent them <3) and I'm gonna try to finish all of them, but I'm also hoping doing a few will snap me out of my funk long enough to finish this chapter... literally only one scene needed!

Thank you again, this made my whole week 🥺

[bepp-ers]

Hey since you're doing yandere asks for Obey Me, can you do a prompt where after pretending to be friendly for MCs sake, the brothers have enough and snap, showing MC their bloodthirsty and/or unhinged sides.

thanks anon! always happy to write for these loveable idiots. for personal reasons, im gonna add in the royals, angels & solomon because goddamit i love 'em. also, i couldnt figure out how to do it all in one part, so this is part one!! part two will be up soon. love ya! <3

living with a toooon of crazy yanderes in the devildom - part one. yandere! obey me! swd? headcanons

Truth be told, you didn't realise just how bad things had gotten.

It sort of hit you one day, as you finally had some alone time, just how clingy and weird everyone was around here.

At R.A.D, you always had someone clinging onto you, no matter where you were.

In class, you were constantly questioned by Satan over everything. How are you? Need help? Someone bothering you? Want anything?

At lunch, you could be certain that Mammon and Levi would drag you to their corner, and Mammon would practically spoon feed you.

"You're a human! Ya gotta be careful!!" He'd insist, and you just shrugged it off.

In student council meetings, you were required to sit besides either Diavolo or Barbatos, by their word of course.

You didn't mind, as you were sure they just wanted to ensure your safety. Sometimes, though, you'd grow bored.

Previously, you could leave when you wanted. "You're not a member of the council, so leave whenever you want." Diavolo had stated in your second week.

But yesterday, when you'd motioned to stand up, you felt two strong hands on your shoulders, pushing you back down.

"MC," You turned to look at the demonic butler, confused. "It's impolite to leave halfway through. You know that, right?"

You blinked, and mumbled an apology as the brothers and Diavolo discussed some sort of trip.

"It's fine," He murmured, running a gloved hand through your hair. "Don't let it happen again."

Walking home, there would be arguments about who would walk with you.

Last week, Asmo had won, and instead of going home, he snuck you out to go clothes shopping.

You didn't mind. He had good taste, and promised to buy you "whatever your heart desired", whatever that meant.

"Nooo, MC, don't leave!! We've still got so much stuff to do!!" He pouted, tugging on your sleeve.

"Asmo, I'm tired. We can do this again soon, okay?? Please can we go back?"

In a rare moment of broken composure, he tightened his grip on your sleeve and stared right through you.

"I don't want anyone else being around you right now. We're done when I say we're done, okay doll?" You shivered, stepping back.

"Asmo, you're scaring me..." You mumbled, and his eyes widened.

"I am! Oh, sorry poppet! Let me make it up to you!!" He pulled you in for a hug, and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"C'mon, let's stop by a few more places and then we can go home. I'll make you a bubble bath!!"

It was so strange.

And it didn't stop at demons, oh no. You grimaced as you thought back to Simeon's perculiar demeanor a few days back.

"Ah, MC. There you are." Thank god, surely an angel would be a voice of reason when nobody else was?

"Simeon! Man, am I glad to see you. What's up?" "Ah, I was just wondering if you wished to come back to Purgatory Hall with myself and Luke."

You glanced around, but the tiny angel was nowhere to be seen.

"Uhh... where is he?" "Oh- I sent him to find Solomon. I'm afraid I'm not good at locating him. So what do you say?"

You nodded eagerly. You really needed a break from demons.

"Please. It's getting pretty rowdy back at Lamentation, I could do with a break." "Wonderful! Let's go immediately."

Swiftly, he hooked your arm in his, and began leading you away, which took you slightly by surprise.

"Wait, what about Luke?" "He's meeting us there. But don't worry about him- tell me how you've been, MC."

It had become suffocating. Had it always been like this?

It couldn't possibly have been. You remembered in your first few months, everyone was nice.

Kind, friendly and considerate. Ensuring that you were comfortable, and giving you the space you needed.

And then, they just... changed. More hostile towards each other, more needy, more demanding, more clingy.

It made no sense!! You wanted out of this. And one way or another, you were going to leave it all behind.

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)

[hurting-fictional-people]

Idk how long ago you posted this (Tumblr needs a time stamp smh), but maybe you do remember the Villain - Hero prompt you wrote, where the villain decided to help the hero after he found out that they're repeatedly abused by the superhero?

Yeah, this one right here.

Without exaggeration, this was the best thing I've ever read in my life. Just found it today, and I cannot stop reading it over and over. It's just *chef's kiss*.

If you ever decide to add a part 3, I am SO ready to see it!!

Anon I am so so sorry that I took so long to answer this 🥺 your ask made my day when I first saw it and then again every time I opened my inbox since, and it means the world to me that you liked those so much 💙

I hope that giving you the continuation you asked for makes up for the long wait (and that you're still around to see it!)... and I promise I'm already thinking of a part four to fix the angst at the end hehe

Also, special thanks to @snowflake4275 who sent me the prompt that gave me the push I needed to finish this <3 (tumblr isn’t letting me tag you :c )

Continued from here

-

Hero had said that they'd leave whether Villain let them or not. They wouldn't be held captive, no matter how comfortable the cage may be – even if it is better than their own house. And yet, a week later, all they've done is checking to see if the window is locked as well as the door and pretend they didn't notice it isn’t.

They tell themself it is because their wound is not healed yet. Because Villain is a known criminal, it’d be dangerous to risk their anger when Hero is still hurt.

None of the excuses sound any more believable than the truth.

They don’t want��to leave.

Meals are delivered every day, filled with taste and variety, nothing like the tasteless though nutritious food they are used to. No one demands anything from them, they don’t have to train until they are a boneless heap on the floor or prove their strength to earn a place. All Hero does is rest – with Villain by their side. The part of them that was raised and taught by Superhero knows that the price for so much kindness will come at some point. The part that sees the way Villain’s eyes flash with anger every time they catch sight of their scars, knows that might not be entirely true. 

“What about Tangled?”

Hero frowns at Villain, holds in a grin. “Don’t tell me the grand villain who terrorizes the innocent people of my city spends their free time watching animated princess movies?”

“I don’t think that wreaking havoc on companies big enough to buy the whole city counts as terrorizing the innocent, sweetheart,” Villain rolls their eyes before parting their lips and holding a hand over their heart in mock incredulity. “Also, excuse me but Tangled is the best animated princess movie, thank you very much.”

The smile breaks free despite Hero’s best efforts, and they laugh softly.

Sitting in front of the tv in the wide room Villain’s been keeping them in, Hero leans back on the couch and pulls their legs to their chest, relieved that the closing wound barely hurts when they do. Villain, lounging on the seat next to them, places a cushion under their head and presses play.

They can’t remember the last time they spent time just… enjoying themself. It feels nice, peaceful. But mostly, it feels wrong. Like a thorn underneath their skin, always poking at their heart in a constant, albeit dull ache. 

How can they do nothing when there are so many people out there suffering, praying for help that won’t come? How can they call themself a hero if they choose Villain and television over the city they’ve sworn to protect? How disappointed would Superhero be if they saw them now? 

It’s a bittersweet kind of pain. The kind that makes them laugh and have fun when Villain is around, only for reality to come crashing down once they are alone and the beautiful lie they are pretending to live in shows its true face. 

They are everything Superhero always tried to discipline out of them. Selfish. Self-centered. Weak. A traitor. And every minute they spend here, pretending they couldn’t leave if they wanted to, is just proof of how much they deserved all the pain after all.

Carried by the thought of Superhero’s disappointed frown, their mind travels far, to stern gray walls they were taught to call home. To a cold base with an even colder mentor. Trapped half in the past, half in the present, Hero realizes they haven’t been paying attention to the movie. They stare at the singing girl on the screen, heart hammering, hummingbird’s wings hitting their ribcage in a frantic beat as they sit straighter, hoping not to give away their lack of attention.

When Superhero asks what the movie was about, they won’t know what to answer. Hero zoned out, were bad bad bad, a pitiful excuse for a hero who’s a waste of Superhero’s time. They’ll have to be punished for not being alert, they’ll have to learn to treasure their mentor’s time, to take the pain and learn their lesson quietly– 

“Hero?” Villain calls as they sit upright too. Hero turns wide eyes to worried ones, holding their breath when they find gentle concern instead of the anger they were prepared for. “You okay?”

“Yes, I– I'm okay.”

“Do you want me to pause the movie? We can change it too if you don’t like this one.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Sorry.”

Villain narrows their eyes but doesn’t argue. 

Hero swallows and silently digs their fingers into the soft cushions beneath them, not at all like the thin mattress they have at the base. Their gaze darts around the room, letting the wallpaper and wooden furniture sink in, so different from the one at home. The one where Superhero is, far away from here.

They aren’t there anymore. They should miss the heroes’ base, shouldn’t they? Miss Superhero. And yet all Hero feels is relief for being away. We are family, Hero, and that’s why I have to be so harsh, Superhero used to say when tears slipped down Hero's cheeks despite their best efforts to hold them back, if I don’t teach you to behave, you’ll be alone, unwanted. Now get me the whip so we can take care of this crying problem.

Family. What a lousy family they are to the one person who taught them all they know. 

Through the corner of their eye, Hero watches Villain as they look at the tv, a stiffness to their shoulders that wasn’t there a moment before Hero lost their grip on reality. Words bubble up and fill their mouth with pleads, but Hero makes sure to clench their teeth and keep them inside. Am I a bad person? Is there something wrong with me for not missing Superhero?

Villain gives them a side glance, and Hero turns their gaze to the movie, words and questions still stirring inside of them, nowhere to go as they pretend that their eyes don’t sting and their stomach doesn’t flip.

They can’t say anything. Not to Villain. The both of them had come to a silent agreement of not mentioning Superhero after the third fight burst out. There was no middle ground to be achieved there.

They are abusing you, you can’t go back to them, Villain would snarl. They saved me, you have no idea who they are, Hero would shout. 

So they stopped. Villain showed up one day with a bowl of popcorn and the remote control for the television and they settled into an unspoken truce. It was disturbingly easy to ignore who they were and pretend to have a friend. 

It’s only in the darkest hours of the night that Hero allows themself to grieve what that friendship could be like if it was real.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk?” Villain asks, pausing the movie. 

Hero takes a deep breath and lets the blank mask they’ve learned to perfect fall over their features. “Talk about what?”

“About why you look so sad,” they say in such a careful tone, Hero’s heart squeezes inside their chest. 

“I’m just tired.”

“You don’t have to talk to me specifically, you know… We can find you a good therapist if you want to.”

“We?”

Villain stops, closes their mouth, blinks at Hero. When they speak again, their eyes are locked on the cushion that sits between them. “I just meant that I can help you if you let me. That’s all.”

They don’t look nervous. Villain looks as composed as they always do, but Hero doesn’t miss the way their eyes refuse to meet Hero’s nor the unnatural stillness that takes over their body even as their voice continues leveled and laid-back. Maybe it’s that hidden anxiety or perhaps Hero’s own need to erase the tension on Villain’s shoulders that makes them uneasy enough to lean forward. Whatever reason it is, it leads their hand to hesitantly hold Villain’s.

“Thank you.”

They don’t say the rest – but I’ll be gone soon, so it won’t be necessary. For some reason, it doesn’t feel right. Not when they know exactly how Villain’s brows would knit together and their jaw would clench if they did. How they’d immediately hide that flicker of emotion behind their eyes.

“C’mon, I want to know if Rapunzel’ll find out she’s the princess,” Hero says after a moment, offering a small smile.

Villain nods and presses play, but a slight frown remains on their forehead even after the movie has ended.

-

They are reading a book when the house goes eerily silent. It’s a weird thing, to read with no other worries but the story they are diving into, so it is no surprise it takes Hero so long to notice the quiet. 

They look up at the room they were given, the comfort they were allowed like never before. It looks as beautiful as always with the gentle light of the evening sun warming up the wooden floor, but the lack of noise is enough to make something twist in the pit of their stomach as Hero kicks the quilt away and stands up slowly, a hand placed on top of their wound as they stride to the door.

Hero takes all of three steps before a familiar smell reaches their nose. A smell that should’ve been comforting, but instead sends bolts of terror through their veins. 

They topple over even before the incapacitating agent hits their lungs, half out of fear, half out of sadness. 

The smell isn’t known only because it is Superhero’s mark but also because Hero’s felt it enough times to know not to fight its effects. Their cheek hits the floor just as the door slams open and their mentor’s face appears above them, a smirk on their lips outlined by something so vicious it drags an involuntary whimper out of Hero.

Superhero’s mouth moves, but the drug takes Hero away before they can make out the words.

As they sleep though – if the numbing daze they are forced under can be called sleep – the words become clearer and clearer until they are all they hear in between muddled dreams and scrambled memories.

Hi, little traitor.

Minutes, hours, days later when they wake up, it’s to the sound of a gasp they barely realize comes from their own lips and a wave of nausea that makes them curl up with a moan.

When they open their eyes, several deep breaths later, Hero is faced with gray walls that are as familiar as the cement under their body. 

Home, at last.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?”

Hero’s eyes snap to the door, to where Superhero stares down at them, and they try to pull themself up onto their elbows only to fall back down when the world spins and their head pounds at the quick movement. 

“Was really a week of captivity all it took to undo everything I tried so hard to make you into?” Superhero sighs, pure disappointment dripping from the words and sinking into Hero’s heart like acid. “One week and all of my efforts to turn you into someone worthy are gone.”

“I don’t, I’m not, I’m sorry,” they whine and instantly cringe at the weakness they know Superhero hates to hear in their voice.

“So you sided with Villain now, is that what I understand?”

“No. Superhero, I swear, they ki–“ but, somehow, it feels like a betrayal to call the time they spent being cared for a kidnapping. Still, under their mentor’s watchful eyes, it slips through their lips in a whisper. “They kidnapped me.”

“And you’re telling me you couldn’t have escaped? I had the doctor check on you, Hero. All they found was a healing wound.”

The wound you gave me.

But along with the thought, what comes isn’t anger. It’s fear. “Where’s Villain?” Hero asks without thinking.

Superhero’s brows shoot up to the middle of their forehead and an incredulous smile splits their face. “You care for that delinquent now, do you? You truly are ruined, then.”

“Did you catch them?” they grit out before Superhero’s anger wipes away their defiance. With Villain’s playful smirk and gentle eyes in their mind, it isn’t so hard to roll to their side and carefully prop themself up into a sitting position, slouched against the wall but a little closer to their mentor’s eyes. They’ll take whatever punishment they deserve, but not before knowing if their fr– if Villain is alright. “Please, I need to know.”

“Why should I answer you anything? After you’ve disappeared and let yourself be captured, after I rescue you and you come back like the little brat you used to be, why should I oblige you?”

“Please.” They have no other answer. Nothing else to offer but the broken plead, the hope that there isn’t a cell in the heroes' base where a snarky, funny, kind villain is being kept.

“I’m so disappointed in you, Hero. You haven’t learned a thing I tried to teach you. Do you have any idea of what happened to the city while you were playing nice with Villain? Do you even care?”

“I do! Of course I do, please. I’m so sorry.”

“You do realize I have to punish you, don’t you?” they say, and all Hero can do is try to stifle the tears that fill their eyes. “I don’t even know where to start fixing you. And I don’t think that simply being locked away is enough for you to realize the extent of your failure this time.”

Hero tries to get up. Against their best senses, they lean against the wall and push themself up as Superhero leaves the room, but they can barely stand upright before they return, a straitjacket on their hands.

“No,” they breathe, but their legs are still weak from the drug and the wound hurts and the ground swirls and when Hero tries to take a step away, instead they tumble to the ground. “Please, please, I’ll do better, I can be better, please–”

“You know I hate it when you beg,” Superhero hisses, crouching in front of Hero as they weakly try to crawl away. “You are already staying here for a month, Hero. Don’t give me reasons to raise that number to three.”

Even if they wanted to struggle, all fight leaves their body at the words, the finality that encases them. 

As their mentor straps the straitjacket around Hero’s torso, pulls their arms taut against their abdomen and buckles in the straps, they stay quiet, still. They know that they deserve this. 

“Heroes don’t make friends with villains, Hero,” Superhero says as they fasten the last strap. “I never thought you were stupid enough not to know that, but I’ll make sure to teach you this lesson well enough so you never forget it again.”

It gets harder to breathe with Superhero this close, with fabric forcing their arms to stay crossed in front of them. Most of all, the fear of Villain having been caught is what makes their chest heavy with dread.

“I won’t forget how you tried to pull away from me, dear,” Superhero continues as they get up. “Or that you still haven’t thanked me for rescuing you.”

They open their mouth to say it, but all that leaves in place of the ‘thank you, Superhero’ is a soft sob. Superhero grimaces, disgusted.

“You know I hate to do this, Hero, but I can’t have an apprentice of mine be this much of a wreck. You need fixing, and I’ll make sure to have you fixed to the best of my ability, don’t worry.”

Hero only watches as their mentor leaves the room and locks the door behind them, leaving Hero alone in the barren room they’ve been inside so many times before.

They know the drill. Know not to fight or scream, and know that if they do, they will be charged for those weaknesses. Still, Hero can’t help the tears that fall down their temples and pool on the concrete underneath their head as they curl up and writhe in the stiff fabric that holds their hands in place.

Too tiny. Too tight. Too alone.

Hero sobs on the ground, and even though they know they deserve this, they cannot help but wish for Villain, wherever they are, to come and get them out.

[destourtereaux]

his #1 best friend - james f. potter x fem!reader (part 1)

summary: james convinces you to fake date him in an attempt to make lily jealous. need i say more?

word count: 1.5k

follow @lovebirdupdates to join my "taglist"!

warnings: mentions of food and eating -- super fluffy tho!

read part two here!

a/n: helllo guys! this is my entry for @acosmis-t 's writing challenge (sorry isa i literally write like a mf snail). i combined this with a request from an anon who wanted some fake dating (which i was veeery happy to oblige~)

also,, i have a bad habit of making my james x reader fics waay longer than i envision them, so there will likely be a part 2 to this!

as always, REBLOG if you enjoy, it means a lot!

prompts:

16. “You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

18. “You are crushing me right now.”

******

"Y/L/N! Just the girl I wanted to see!”

You whip around to see a James Potter who was positively beaming, a huge grin on his face. You groaned. The last time you had seen him like this, your hair had been neon pink for almost a week afterwards; he had been sent to distract you while Sirius snuck the dye into your shampoo.

And so, your response was less than warm. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Potter?”

He pouted. “Aw, can’t a boy visit his #1 best friend for fun?”

You rolled your eyes. “Last I checked, my name isn’t Sirius, and I most definitely am not a Black. So, I’d say you’re in the wrong dorm, James.”

He laughed. “Alright, alright. However, I am indeed in the right place, because… well let’s just say Pads isn’t the right person for this job.”

“Oh brother, what are you up to?” you sighed. This was even worse than you had anticipated. If Sirius couldn’t even be bothered, you were sure you would like it even less.

James waggled his eyebrows, “okay, but promise you’ll hear me out before interrupting!”

Your curiosity got the best of you as you mimicked drawing a cross over your heart and plopped down on your bed, ready for the worst.

The boy’s eyes shine. “Heeeere’s the deal. You, me? We date for a few months and --”

“Absolutely not,” you cut him off, but before you could explain exactly why not, James clamps a hand over your mouth.

“Oy! What did we agree on? Hear me out first! It’s fake dating, alright? You don’t need to do it for real -- although I find it highly offensive that you’d reject me so quickly. It’s to make my Lily flower jealous, see? When she sees us together, she’ll realize her true feelings for me! Then we break up, I swoop back in with her, and bam, mission accomplished. It’s as easy as 1, 2, 3.”

You pried his hand off your face and shook your head fervently. “It’s not easy, James. It’s not even remotely plausible! You know we’re friends, that’s it. And why me? Everyone knows we’re always bickering -- heck, we’re doing it right now! There’s no way we’d pass as a couple.”

To your surprise, the boy is not the least bit deterred. “Pretty pleaaaase? There’s no one else that’ll work! Marlene wouldn’t be able to hide this from Lily, and Dorcas doesn’t even speak to me! With anyone else, it’d seem like it came out of nowhere, but you and I? We’re believable.”

You swallow. He knew exactly what he was doing with those puppy dog eyes, and god dammit because it was working. “I’ll think about it,” you finally conclude with a roll of your eyes, and James brightens.

“You’ll come around -- I know you love me, deeeep down inside,” and with that, the Gryffindor practically skips out of your room, leaving you wondering what on earth you had just (half) agreed to.

******

The next day, you headed down to the Great Hall for some breakfast. You were hoping that James had forgotten about it and moved on to his next big scheme, as he usually did, with the rate his gears turned.

But this time? Your hopes had been far too high. They always were with matters regarding Lily.

There was no greeting from James as you sat down. Instead, he looked at you again with those guile-free pools of hazel, and how could you refuse?

You groaned. “You little TWAT. Alright, alright, what’s in it for me?”

The boy beams and wraps an arm over your shoulders, squishing you into his side. “God, you’re the best, Y/N/N, honestly. Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Save it for Lils,” you waved him off. “Now answer me, ‘cause we both know I won’t be doing this for free.”

“Who do you think I am? An amateur?” he scoffed. “I come prepared, of course. How about… your homework, for a month. And I’ll treat you to something on the next Hogsmeade trip.”

You scrunch your eyebrows. “Try again, Prongs. You and I both know I have to help you with your homework, so forgive me for not believing that. And one treat for potentially months of faking this? No can do.”

“Okay, okay, fine. What if I pay for all our ‘dates’ for as long as we’re faking it?” James counters.

You grinned. “Now that’s more like it, Jamesie. We’ll see how you treat a girl.”

James rolled his eyes, “if I’d known that was all it took, we could’ve started planning yesterday!”

Better late than never, I guess. You shrugged and hid a grin.

******

Y/N and James’ Rules for Contractual Dating

1. Do not tell a soul (except Moony and Pads)

2. No actual kissing (HEY how am I supposed to show my affection then??)(I’M NOT SWAYING JAMES. You’re creative, you’ll find another way.)

3. Yes forehead and cheek kisses,, and hugs from behind <3 (The heart is a little excessive, don’t ya think?) (Oh don’t be a downer, love)

“James this is literally so dumb -- can’t we just go with the flow??”

“Do you WANT us to fail?? Suck it up, Y/N/N.

4. At least one date per week (and don’t forget who’s paaaaying!)

5. Do NOT fall in love (As if -- you’re worrying too much, Potter)

Signed,

Y/N Y/L/N James Fleamont Potter

And so, it began.

****** The next day, you headed down to the Great Hall as per normal, but this time, with a certain Gryffindor’s arm slung over your shoulders; much to everyone’s surprise.

You were trying to resist shoving his arm off, and James was absolutely reveling in the attention of course. Only Sirius and Remy were any wiser, Moony sending you a look of sympathy as you sat down. And there was no missing the widening of Lily’s eyes as she took in the scene.

This is going to be hard, you thought…

****** Except, it wasn’t very hard at all.

Over the next month, you and James were inseparable. You were hanging out almost everyday, stuck to each other like glue when you had the same classes. At quidditch games, he’d dedicate his shots to you, and most of the time, they managed to go in! You were certainly one of his biggest supporters, rivaled only, perhaps, by a certain Black. And the first thing James did after every game was run over to give you a hug. You always complained that he was sweaty and stank of it too, but you couldn’t help but hug him back.

Now that you basically spent every waking moment together, you couldn’t help but pay attention to his actions a whole lot more. You saw that way he helped younger students find their ways to class when they got lost and the way he stepped in whenever he noticed any injustice. You also noticed how he thanked the professors after every class and made sure to pick up a butterbeer for McGonagall on every Hogsmeade trip.

It was no wonder he was Head Boy. James was quite possibly the closest anyone could get to having a heart of gold.

And strangely enough, everyone around him was basked in that same light, because James was one of those rare souls who managed to share his shine with all he met. You saw it reflected when he held the door open for you, or when he comforted Sirius after a run-in with his dreadful cousins. And who could forget what he was doing for Moony every full moon?

You couldn’t believe that it had taken you so long to notice.

****** You were lying on a common room couch, reading a new muggle series you had gotten sucked into. In fact, it was so intriguing that you didn’t notice the quidditch captain return from practice. As James took in the scene, your vulnerable form, nestled in a pile of cushions, entirely entranced by the book in your hand, the corners of his mouth lifted. Whether it was a conscious response, no one knew.

And the next thing you knew, an 80kg object was landing on you, and you almost fell off the couch from the impact. You gasped and shielded your face before realizing that the “object” was a boy. A boy with unkempt hair and a pair of round glasses that you’d recognize anywhere.

“James! What in the world?! You’re literally crushing me right now, move, you big lump!” you prompted, your laugh muffled by his hair.

“Nuh uh. You took all the pillows, so I’m just using you as one. I reckon you’re more comfortable anyway,” the boy declines, looking up at you and grinning as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

You pulled yourself out enough to breathe, and set down your book. You wrapped an arm around him and ran the other hand through his hair. Oh god, what was happening to you?

****** read part two here! interested in my other works? see my masterlist!

taglist: @kielemarie @ur-local-reality-shifter @msmb @dielgonacoffee @amourtentiaa @malfoy-wife15 @izzyyy-1 @fives-cup-of-coffee @jodibullock1 @iwritesiriusly @cory-was-hexed @slytherclawbitch @mrzweasley @1-800-amortentia @amelialupin @wwandavision

[maraudersftw]

Blueberry + Black + Bliss

Many thanks for this lovely prompt, anon! I'm sorry I suck at stopping under 1000 words.

Sweet Blue

Lily barreled down the stairs, massive package in hand, grin rampant over lips as excitement buzzed like a second skin around her.

The Gryffindor Common Room, bereft of occupants save for a few stragglers who’d decided to forgo some precious Sunday lie-in, flew by her periphery without garnering so much as an acknowledging scan as she skipped towards the Boys’ staircase. A foot had barely fallen onto the first step when she was halted unceremoniously by an amused call of her name.

“Oi, Evans!” his voice rang out, and she whipped her head around to spot a shock of black hair, smiling hazel eyes, lazy smirk. The sight of him, burrowed inside an armchair, instantly sent the thrum beneath her ribcage stuttering. “Off to accost some poor bloke this early in the morning? At least wait for the sun to rise fully, would you? Some of us need more time to collect our wit.”

She narrowed her eyes, thoughts clattering as she debated her next course of action. Futile as the pretence that she’d been on a path to accost someone who was not the boy in front of her was, it only took Lily another half-second to make the decision, step away from the staircase, and towards him. James’s gaze brightened infinitesimally, evidently pleased by the deviation.

“Don’t club in everyone else with yourself, Potter,” she remarked happily, rounding the couch to plop down on its unbelievable cushiness. “Not everyone’s as slow as you.”

He reached out one of those unfairly long arms to bridge the space between them and flick her nose. Lily held back the widening grin. “And there’s that cheek. Even at six in the morning.”

Rather than blush tellingly at the fondness he directed at her, she nodded at the pile of Transfiguration notes and books around him. “What’s this? James Potter studying on a Sunday? Am I dreaming?”

“Afraid of a little competition?” he threw back, fire glinting off glasses. “Don’t worry, Evans, you’ll still beat me in Charms and Potions.”

For a second, the golden glaze of the sun hitting his hair from the window behind stole the words from her tongue, the breath from her lungs. Prompted by James’s prolonged stare, a warmth blossomed on her cheeks, bringing back some sense. “I’d beat you in DADA too.”

“Ha! You can dream.”

“I don’t make it a habit to dream about you, Potter.”

“That makes one of us,” he said, completely unabashed.

Lily fairly choked on that honesty, muscles tightening near her clavicle with strange breathlessness. “You dream about yourself? Takes the narcissism to new heights.”

James cocked a brow, but let her deliberate misunderstanding of the phrase slide. “Technically, everyone dreams about themselves.”

“Ugh, it’s too early for this,” she groaned, sliding her legs into a fold on the couch, fluffy warm pyjamas keeping the December chill at bay. “I was going to your dormitory for a purpose, you know?”

James instantly leaned forward, pleased and making no effort to hide it. “You were coming to see me?”

“To see all of you,” she mumbled like a coward. Perhaps there was also some lie interlaced in there, because he’d certainly been the reason she’d felt an extra jauntiness during her excursion. Not willing to impart that particular knowledge, Lily held out the package to him. “Open it.”

Curiosity creased his brows, smile never waning. “What’s this?”

“Open it, you impatient tosser.”

James grumbled something about ‘mean harpies posing as Head Girls’ and ‘no appreciation for those of curious minds’ while carefully unwrapping the package, all of which Lily soundly ignored in favour of vibrating with anticipation. When the last of the brown wrapping paper fell away, she squealed at the pink box that was revealed, full with a glossy sheen and pretty prints and designs; exactly the way she remembered it.

James looked at her, back at the box, then at her again. Eventually, amusement had his lips pinching together. “If I don’t find at least two dragon eggs inside this, I’ll be disappointed.”

“It’s something even better, I promise!” She wiggled her palms, urging him to open the box.

When he finally popped open the lid, Lily found herself under the very real threat of toppling to the floor, so far had she leaned forward. Eager green eyes spotted the dozen or so confectionaries that sat cheerily inside, miraculously undisturbed during their journey across England. “They’re blueberry muffins!” she informed giddily. “I requested mum to send across some from this bakery in my hometown.”

James’s smile softened as he looked inside the box, so much so that when he turned his eyes to her again, the gold in them had melted into a warm honey. “You do get blueberry muffins here too, you know,” he said kindly, voice fond.

“I know, but those are just imposters. These are the real deal. Take a bite, go on. I can bet you’ll be kissing my feet in thanks.”

“Do I have to kiss your feet? Can't it be something else?”

Her heart bloated dangerously. “James.”

“Only kidding,” he chuckled, reaching inside dutifully and picking out a muffin. At her incessantly exaggerated prompting, he made a show of rolling his eyes before finally biting into the spongey cake. It was bizarre, but Lily could swear she felt flavours blue and sweet burst on her own tongue when James moaned aloud, eyes scrunched in bliss as he chewed.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“What the fuck,” he whispered in disbelief after swallowing, staring down at the remaining muffin as if it had personally offended him by not being available before. “What the actual fuck?”

“I told you!” she crowed, smirking openly without a hint of modesty. “Isn’t it just the best thing you’ve ever tasted?”

“Merlin, I might cry.” He blinked, grinning at her. “Give me those feet, Evans.”

Lily’s smirk dimmed, veins strangely suffused with molten courage instead of blood as she reached forward and plucked the box from James’s lap, setting it aside on the table. The distressed cry he let out died abruptly when she looked at him again, face serious.

“Will my lips do?”

James froze, eyes wide, muffin forgotten in hand. “Lily,” he warned, voice low. “Don’t. Not if you’re still thinking—not if you’re not sure.”

Her fingers found his free hand, ran over the warm palm breezily. “I’m sure,” she confessed, lashes fluttering as she stared at his Quidditch-given calluses. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long, but—I’m sure now.”

“Look at me.”

She did.

James’s eyes were aflame, even as his breath remained tempered. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want—” She bit her lip. “I want you to kiss me. I want to eat that muffin, and then I want you to take me to Hogsmeade next weekend.”

A beat passed. And then she found his hand snaking around her wrist, tugging her forward until she sloppily stumbled over to his armchair and right into his recently vacated lap. Distantly, she registered that they had an audience—however meagre—but she’d truly never cared less.

“Good plan,” James whispered, tossing the rest of the muffin into the box. Lily didn’t even feel inclined to chastise him for messing up the presentation, because he was gripping her waist the next second, pulling her closer until his nose brushed hers tenderly. “Always the perfect answer, Miss Evans.”

“Shut up,” Lily laughed, cradling his head, pulling him forward.

Their lips met, mouths opened, and blue and sweet burst on her tongue.

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

--

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

[meaningtotellyou]

🐣🐨🦔🐢🐄🐸🐧🦭

DID YOU LIKE MY COUNTDOWN!? That was fun! I had fun. That was actually more fun than I thought it would be! There were too many good posts to name. It was very fun reading all your comments and theories.  Though side note: animal anon has no problem with people joining her BUT it must be animals and it must not mess with my countdown. No statues! Animal anon does animals, not statues. Side side note: can someone settle the debate of if that emoji is a hedgehog or a porcupine? Because I have no idea. Side note side note side note: sorry if you got multiple asks in a day...my system isn't perfected yet so sometimes I send two (or three) because I forgot I sent one and didn't want to accidently miss anyone (also sorry if i did miss you, still perfecting the system, no one has been animal anon blacklisted, i promise!)

Anyway, GUESS WHAT TODAY IS!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 It's been one year since I started animal anon! How exciting is that?! Phew, what a year we've had together! I mean what better way to start this second year than some chaos since that's how animal anon started to begin with! I will admit, it was slightly stressful coming up with something to meet the occasion of this event. I hope the countdown and this post live up to it. No, I'm not going to reveal myself just yet.. maybe that will be for year 2...😏😏. BUT I will give you some fun facts about me! So let's see; first, I'm from the Midwest (so not Canadian, but close so I do have a slight accent), but I currently live in the TriState area. Second, I am a MASSIVE theater nerd. No, seriously I have been to 21 shows since Broadway reopened in September and I'm actually going to my 22nd tonight. I don't know if this makes that fact better or worse, but I've really only been to about 12 different show because out of those 22, 10 of those are one specific show. Third, I am fluent in German and English. Though, I suck at writing in German, I never learned how to, so don't ask me to do that please. Fourth, my favorite color is red, so you can guess my favorite Taylor album (and coincidently also the show I've been to see 10 times on Broadway...). Fifth, I love to talk A LOT if you couldn't tell by the essays I send yall. And lastly, I can also confirm I am not Taylor...but I will say that I do share something very important with her... tell me your guesses down below as to what very important thing you think Taylor and I have in common, and I'll send some extra animals to whomever I see gets it right first!

So contuining on with my dissertation here, this week I have been trying to figure out a prompt to live up to this occasion. As I already mentioned, my system isn't perfect! And I've been thinking a lot about community lately and how that's been lacking for so many because of Covid. So what I want yall to do is if you get this dissertation of mine, please send a message, post, anon, whatever you want to at least 1 other blog (though you can do more), telling them something you like about them and giving them an animal emoji! That way we can keep spreading the love all day long to as many as possible! 🥰

As always, you are all brilliant, kind, worthy, beautiful and as this past week has shown, hilarious and unique human beings. No seriously, some of your posts had me kneeling over in laughter. If you would so like, you can tag #animalanon so I and everyone can read all your lovely posts! IM STARTING EARLY TODAY SO WE CAN PARTY ALL DAY LONG BECAUSE I LOVE YALL SO MUCH 🎊 🦥🦁🐯

ANIMAL ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE YOU HERE 🥺 WE ALL ARE!! i love you and i can’t wait to know who you are 👀 im just nosy

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Salvation, Damnation

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Heahmund&Reader (brother/sister relationship)

Summary: “Where the reader is Heahmund's sister (or some kind of close relative) and she ends up meeting Ivar, but while Heahmund's always seen her as quiet, shy and insecure, she finds Ivar attractive and starts hitting on him and openly flirting with him in front of any and everyone. Ivar notices that it bothers Heahmund, so he flirts with her back until they end up spending 1 on 1 time with each other (something cute and romantic) and he starts to genuinely like her.”

I am so sorry anon if I dissapointed you, this story got away from me.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Mentions of violence and death, nothing major. My awful attempt at masking my dislike for Heahmund. Horrible, horrible attempts at writing sexual tension. Subtle (and not so subtle) D/s dynamics. Implied sex. Implied bondage, and knife/blood kink. Nothing exactly explicit, but still.

A/N: I really need to put my foot down and write a meek reader character at some point, they always turn out being crazy or annoying little shits. Or both.

Also, alternate title to this: two switches try to out-dom one another for 3k words. Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick​ @ietss​ 

Heahmund paces in front of you, head low and hand gripping tightly at his cross.

“You will be sent to Kent, I have friends there that can-…”

“No, I will not leave you.” You argue, to which your brother replies only with a sigh.

“I want you safe.”

“I will be safe with you, not surrounded by old men and priests somewhere in Engl-...”

“Can’t you see we are surrounded by enemies!?” Heahmund’s voice doesn’t rise, but it still makes you tremble, “We can’t afford to stay together.”

“Then why make that Viking take me from Lindsey? You put me in his grasp.”

“Lindsey won’t hold under English control for long,” He promises, voice almost a whisper though you can still hear the anger, the impotence, the fear bubbling beneath “It is too close to York. You’ve seen their army, they’ll…they’ll crush them all.”

“And yet you fight for them, for pagans.”

“I don’t have a choice,” His hands are warm on your arms, “But you do. I have to send you to Kent, I have to keep you alive.”

“Why would they kill me?”

“Punishment for a failure, maybe. Ivar knows he needs only to threaten your life to have me do his bidding.”

“And you think he’ll allow you to ship me away? The one thing that keeps you on a leash?” You shake your head, “Brother, this is madness.”

“I don’t care if he allows it,” Heahmund sentences, voice grave and certain. “Whatever punishment befalls on me, I shall endure.”

You shake your head again, and you want to fight back, argue, but you know that dead look in his eyes, you know that deadly stillness, that terrifying certainty.

And so you lower your eyes, and accept his words with a nod of your head.

He needn’t know you retrace each and every one of his steps, and undo his plans for sending you off to England. You will die before leaving your brother alone at the mercy of these heathens.

____

“Does your sister know how to play?” The Viking asks, moving a wooden piece on the board. Without missing a beat, he adds, “Or are nuns not allowed to learn chess?”

“She’s not a-…” Heahmund closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “She does.”

The Viking looks down at the board, and his expression twists into a mix of surprise and disapproval at your brother’s move.

“Hopefully better than you,” And it seems answering a question about you, acknowledging your presence, was a wrong move on your brother’s part. “Does she have a tongue?”

You keep your eyes on the pale ones of the youngest son of Ragnar.

“I do.” You reply slowly. The Viking only seems to grow more delighted with this little game of his.

“And you know who I am, don’t you, little dove?”

“There are more fun ways to make me say your name, you know.” You quip, and not even a thousand years of teachings of chastity and restraint could keep you from smiling when the Viking’s eyes widen, right before he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, looking…hungry.

The youngest son of Ragnar stands, using the table and then the crutch at his side to stand tall and walk towards you.

When your brother growls his name in warning, Ivar only laughs darkly, and continues approaching you until he towers over you, eyes dark and set on you.

“What would those ways be, little dove?” He reaches down, and hooks one finger on the rosary bracelet you wear, tugging on it and reminding you strikingly of bindings.

“Hands-on practice is much more…rewarding than lessons.”

“Hmm,” The Viking muses, eyes studying you with an intensity that should make you uncomfortable. He doesn’t release his hold on the rosary on your wrist, for a moment tugging on it harder and making it tighten on your skin like rope. He chuckles, “I like you. You are…interesting, for a Christian.”

“And you are…intriguing, for a Viking.”

Ivar the Boneless only huffs a laugh, but there’s still a spark of excitement in his gaze, of pride, of satisfaction.

He turns his head to the side, and addresses your brother, ordering him to leave.

Heahmund hesitates, of course he does, and his hand goes to the handle of his sword at his side. You hold your breath.

But after a moment, with the restrained anger of a dog brought to heel, the threat that he might take these Vikings and this kingdom down single-handedly if you are to come to harm written in his dark eyes; your brother takes his leave.

The Viking’s hand closes around your throat, and you only stare back at him with wide eyes as he corners you towards the wall. He is so close to you, with each breath you take you feel his armor against your own chest, you can discern every speck of blue in his eyes.

“What game are you playing?” He snarls, but you cannot find the words, your heart beating wildly in your chest and the blood in your veins singing with fear and something else. “Answer me!”

“I am not playing anything!”

“I don’t believe you,” He snarls without hesitation, lips curved into what looks like a beast threatening to attack. The hand on your neck moves up, cupping your jaw roughly and moving your head to the side. You feel his breath on your neck as he speaks again, quieter, “I don’t like being lied to.”

“I am not lying, you brute. Now get your hand off me.”

“Or what?”

Your eyes widen, but something in your blood sings at his defiance, something in his blue eyes as he dares you makes your heart quicken.

“What?”

“You heard me, little dove. What will you do, if I don’t do as you say?”

You are pushed against a wall in some Viking kingdom, with the most feared Viking alive holding you by the throat, and yet you smile at him.

You reach up with your hand, and, the same way he did earlier to you, you hook a finger on the metal arm-ring on his wrist, and tug, hard enough he feels the strain of the makeshift binding.

“Why don’t you do as I say?” You prompt sweetly, “I prefer rewarding to punishing, I have too soft a heart.”

Ivar’s lips part at your words, and naked want is written in his face. It is barely a moment, where the mask slips, the game grants you a victory, and you see him feeling the siren call of giving in.

Still, slowly his lips curve into a sinister smile, and he leans even closer.

“I don’t.” He promises by your ear, what you could swear is the scrap of teeth against the shell of your ear before he lets you go.

You stay there, back against the wall, trying to regain your breath, regain your control, as you watch him walk out of the room.

It is an easy, fun game to play, this push and pull you engage on with the Viking. Circling one another over and over, taunting one another, testing one another; waiting for the other to pounce or retreat.

You know on your end there’s more than pretense and empty words, and you dare think on his end it’s the same.

It is fun, and thrilling and liberating; and you soon find yourself enthralled by the Viking and his captivating voice, his depthless eyes that give so much away.

You know it is wrong, you know it is sinful and awful, you know no Christian would speak, wish, dream, of such things, much less with a heathen of all men.

But, at the end, you were never a very good Christian.

And so, much to your brother’s horror, you grow closer and closer to the Viking. In between the games you both play, in between the taunts and the defiance, grows what you dare call a comfortable intimacy, an understanding of one another.

It doesn’t hurt your cause that Heahmund cannot even dream of taking you right from under Ivar’s nose now, send you off to England so you can be safe, but alone.

____

A sharp tug on the rosary on your wrist draws your attention to Ivar, and you turn to him with questions written in your eyes.

“We will sail for Vestfold in two days,” He tells you, smiling slightly when you make a point of wrenching your wrist, your bracelet, from his grasp. “Will you be coming with us?”

“Are you asking me to?”

“If I were, what would you say?”

You offer only a smile, partly exasperated and partly enthralled.

Heahmund stands up from his place in the table in front of you, and with a grunt of your name stalks away, to a place of relative privacy. You notice Ivar’s eyes following your brother’s retreating back with what strikes you as suspicion, as disdain, and so you hurry to follow Heahmund.

He runs a hand through short dark hair, and shakes his head as if to try and dispel himself of his anger.

“What on God’s name are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” You reply innocently, before your eyes find those of the son of Ragnar across the room. A thrill runs through your spine when you find he was already looking at you. “He is rather handsome, isn’t he?”

“Are you mad!?” Heahmund says lowly, in that way of his of yelling at you with a whisper. His brows furrow, “My sweet sister wo-…”

“Your sweet sister refuses to be shipped off to England, Heahmund,” You finish for him, “I would have believed you knew better than to expect me to leave you behind.”

“You put yourself at the mercy of Ivar the Boneless! That monster has none!”

You hear the Viking call your name from across the room, and even if you didn’t have a point to prove, you know you’d answer the call.

“I bought us -you- time, if anything.” You tell your brother, before you go off to sit at Ivar’s side.

____

The Viking King he takes you to meet -Harald, you remind yourself- is a strange character. A man that makes a strange thrill of disgust and fear run down your spine.

You don’t miss the implication of Ivar’s display. While your brother is brought in chains and forced to kneel at Harald’s feet, you remain standing at the Viking’s side, Ivar’s hold on the rosary bracelet you wear for once not the promise of thrill, of lust, but a silent oath of protection.

You awaken in the dead of night to the soft sound of knuckles rasping against your door. You hold on tight to the dagger in your hand, even though you know if any of these men wanted you dead you would be so.

Ivar stands at the other side of it, and it steals the breath from your lungs, the words from your lips.

Still, you let him in, and watch with wide eyes as he takes a seat on a low settee near your bed.

“Doesn’t it scare you? To be all alone with a heathen?”

You shrug, and find your voice again,

“If I were to fear, it would be for being all alone with a murderer, with a warrior. Not a pagan.”

“And why is that?”

You study him in silence for a few moments, before offering, “I am not my brother, I don’t share his…conviction.”

“His faith.”

“His fervor,” You correct, before sighing, “Maybe it will damn me for eternity, but…I ought to fear you, to hate you, for the things you have done and the things you will do, not the Gods you follow.”

“And do you?” The Viking asks, and your eyes narrow at his question. After a breath, eyes searching yours, he presses, “Hate me.”

“You care about some nun’s scorn?”

“You definitely aren’t a nun,” He offers, the hint of an amused smile on his lips, “And you are…fascinating, I’d like to know if you despise me.”

“I don’t,” At his strange expression, you press, “You’re disappointed?”

Ivar shrugs, head moving side to side as his mouth curves downwards, indecisive.

“I don’t know. There is something to be said about a poor Christian nun at the hands of a Viking; fearing, fighting, resisting.”

His words, the images they conjure up in your head, make a thrill run down your spine, a rush of heat settle low on your stomach. You lick your lips, and because you cannot help yourself, you offer a counteroffer,

“There’s also something to be said about a Viking at the mercy of a wayward Christian. Makes one wonder what it takes to have him…cave, obey, beg.”

Ivar laughs, shaking his head, “I’d like to see you try, little dove.”

There’s no mistaking the darkening of his gaze, the quickened breaths, the hunger in his expression, though. He wants it as much as you do, he craves control as much as he craves surrendering it.

You cross your legs and try focusing on the matter at hand.

“But you didn’t come here to talk…hypotheticals, did you?”

Ivar sobers, and you could swear he grits his teeth as he toys with the crutch on his hand.

“Harald promised us support. We will march for Kattegat soon.”

“I don’t have my brother’s strategic mind, I’m afraid,” You offer when he stays quiet. “I fear I won’t be of much help.”

“Lagertha could be dead, in a matter of weeks. I could…I could finally kill her.” He confesses, eyes falling from yours, and there’s the clear tell of anger in his expression. Anger at what you are sure he considers weakness, anger at having you be a witness to it.

“That is what you want, is it not?”

“To you Christians…my people are monsters, are we not?”

“You honor your Gods with blood, you value death over life, you pillage and burn and conquer. Of course my countrymen think that, of course they fear you.”

“Do you think I’m a monster, little dove?” Ivar asks you, taking you aback. If you weren’t so used to him, if you weren’t so familiar with the tones of his voice, with the subtle tells in his expression; you’d think he’s daring you.

You wouldn’t have believed, months ago, when he barged into Lindsey with an army at his back trying to find Bishop Heahmund’s sister, that one day you’d be sitting on front of Ivar the Boneless and see his eyes shining with hesitation, with vulnerability, with fear.

The answer you can offer is a smile, and a shake of your head. The answer he demands is the bruising kiss he presses against your lips, is the breath he steals from your lungs.

____

For all the ruckus planning a battle implies, for all the chaos that comes before a siege, for all the months of war talks and battle plans; the battle for Kattegat sneaks up on you.

On your happiness. On your sin.

Ivar presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, eyeing the marks of rope on your skin with careful eyes. You only watch him, sated and tranquil and at peace; letting him make inventory of the marks, of the evidence of your surrender.

“Tomorrow we will march,” He tells you quietly, rough fingers still circling your wrist delicately. “Kattegat could be mine in days.”

You hum an agreement, and stretch. Because you cannot help it, you burrow into him, your face hidden at the crook of his neck, and trace your own marks on his skin, the evidence of his surrender.

The faint cuts of a knife are still visible in his chest, and when you trace your fingers over them, Ivar shudders. You smile.

“Ivar the Boneless,” You whisper against his skin, before you give in and press a soft kiss over a darkening bite mark on his shoulder. “King of Kattegat.”

He huffs a breath that could have been an amused chuckle.

“When it is all done, I…I will send your brother to York.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, and your breath shudders past your lips.

“York?”

“To defend us from some Danes that threaten it with capture. He won’t fight Christians, you have my word.

But that isn’t what made you freeze under his touch, and he knows it. Ivar swallows, and returns his gaze to the ceiling.

His hand tightens on your wrist, before he takes a deep breath.

“I want you to stay with me,” He confesses, not looking at you. “I want you at my side, I…I want to make you Queen of Kattegat.”

Your eyes widen, and you lean back, even though he doesn’t release your wrist.

“Ivar…”

“I’ll release Heahmund from his vow, he will be free, and safe. You…if you want, we can marry before your God after we marry before mine,” He promises, rushed and anxious. You realize he’s giving you reasons to say yes, as if you didn’t have enough of those written in his gaze, in his burning touch, in the marks that litter both your bodies. “I-…

You lean in, and kiss him. It has always been surprisingly useful in getting him to stop thinking, to stop talking; and you realize when he presses back against your lips with a soft sound, when his hand tangles in your hair and he brings you closer, that it continues to be so.

When you part, his eyes open slowly, and when they meet yours you see in them that emotion neither of you has been brave enough to admit yet.

“Marry me.” He whispers.

You press your brow to his with a breathed laugh, happy and mad and warm.

“Yes,” You reply, voice hushed, eyes shining. You steal a kiss from his lips, and another one when he continues to stare up at you, surprise and awe and hope written in his pale eyes. “I love you, Ivar.”

His eyes search yours, looking for the lie, for the mirage. When he finds none, Ivar smiles, wide and hopeful and happy.

“I love you, little dove.”

That night, he promises his love between fervent kisses, brands it against your skin in the mark of his fingers on your hips. That night, he demands your love with whispers of your name, steals it from your lungs in the air he robs you of with skillful fingers and tongue.

____

Soooooo, whaddya think?

Ik I need to write smut at some point, but I’m too much of a coward atm. At some point I will, and mark my words, I will return to this one shot.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it!! Love you!

[thegraystreaks]

i just read your fics on ao3 and they were so good, i love missing moments from canon! Idk if you ever take prompts but if you do i would really love to read a different way for percabeth to get together in canon?

anon, the way you got me to write something for the first time in ages….

anyway this is super self indulgent but I had a lot of fun writing it!! thank u for your kinds words I would die for you probably!!

this takes place during botl, the day Percy comes back from Ogygia, sometime after Annabeth storms out of the Big House.

-

“Annabeth glared at me. You are the single most annoying person I’ve ever met!” And she stormed out of the room.

I stared at the doorway. I felt like hitting something. “So much for being the bravest friend she’s ever had.”

-

He finds Annabeth in the arena. It’s empty save for her — everyone knows by now that sparring with her while she’s like this never leads to anything good. So she’s taking on a dummy, her anger apparent in the rigid lines of her body, fury in the force behind her blows. She rolls and kicks, dodging imaginary attacks, and Percy could swear that the air is thick, charged, like the feeling before a thunderstorm. Which is stupid — it’s camp, and the magical borders keep the sky cloudless as always. 

As he approaches, the only acknowledgement of his presence is her intensified rage, the way her blade slashes and hacks with renewed vigor. They’re gonna need to replace that dummy, he thinks.

“Can we talk?”

She wheels to face him, thunder in her eyes. For a moment, he’s scared he’ll need to pull out Riptide. She turns to the dummy one last time and stabs it straight through the heart. “You wanna talk? Then go ahead.”

He swallows nervously. Now that he’s got her attention, he doesn’t quite know where to start. His mind flashes to last winter, and how distraught he was when she had been kidnapped. How he’d have done anything to get her back. How he just knew that she couldn’t be dead. He reaches out hesitantly, but pulls his arm back when he glances at the hilt of the blade, still sticking out of the dummy. 

“I was thinking about how upset I was last winter, when you were kidnapped. That, um — well, ‘sucked’ doesn’t really cover it. That was awful. I really am sorry that I worried you.”

Something shifts in her eyes, and he can see the hurt dripping through the cracks of her anger.  “You couldn’t send an Iris Message? I thought you were dead, Percy.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Drachmas were a bit hard to come by on the island.”

“Ha,” she laughs drily. She pauses to wipe at the sweat on her brow. “What was she like?” The words drip with contempt.

“I don’t — who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she scoffs. “Calypso. What was she like?”

Air rushes out of Percy’s lungs. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Chiron was right, then. She had figured out where he’d been. 

“Does it matter?”

“Well, you spent two full weeks there, so I can’t imagine she looks like the ancient hag she is. How old is she again? Two-thousand? Or is it three?”

“Annabeth—”

“Two weeks, Percy!” she cries.

“I’m sorry, okay? Time was weird there!” 

“Oh, time was weird, that’s your excuse?”

“Yeah, that’s my excuse!” he shoots back.  “And I wasn’t just laying on a beach being fed grapes or something, I was recovering! From being blown up!”

That seems to drain some of the fight from her. She looks away, and her voice shrinks down: “I’m sorry you were hurt. I—I hate seeing you hurt.” 

In the silence that follows, he thinks inexplicably of Aphrodite coming to visit him last winter, the limo so out of place in the desert. The way that she had appeared, if only for a second, like the girl in front of him. How she had promised she wouldn’t let his love life be “easy and boring”. Gods, why couldn’t it be? The rest of his life is crazy enough. 

He had hoped, briefly, that Aphrodite might’ve forgotten about her promise when they’d returned to Olympus. He remembers a slow, sad song, and his hands on Annabeth’s waist as they had swayed. How it had felt like the pieces were maybe finally starting to fall into place. The memory seems worlds away.

“Annabeth, listen. I’m sorry I was gone so long. But I didn’t choose to be sent there. And—and I came back.”

“Duh, Percy,” she rolls her eyes. “That’s her curse.”

“Okay, you’re right.” She turns away. He reaches out, more confident now, and takes hold of her arm. “But curse or not, I chose to come back.”

She pulls her arm out of his grip. “Yeah, so that you could tell me I have to bring some mortal girl to lead my quest!”

“What does Rachel have to do with this?”

“Are you fucking serious?” she shouts. He can see the walls building back up, the storm returning in her eyes. She whips around and yanks her dagger out of the sparring dummy, kicking up dirt as she begins to stalk away.

This was not how he wanted this to go, not his intent when he came to find her. Of all the ways returning to camp might’ve gone, he had never imagined it like this. He tries to reconcile the girl that kissed him in the mountain with this one, who can’t go more than a minute without yelling at him, that won’t stop running off. Why is this so complicated? She kissed him, right? Isn’t that supposed to be it? The happy ending? If movies told him anything, it was that the kiss means you get the girl. It shouldn’t be this hard. It wouldn’t be, he thinks bitterly, if she would quit storming off.

“Gods, would you stop running away when we’re talking?” he shouts after her. “Would it kill you to stick around and listen to me?”

He’s taken aback when she actually turns around, arms crossed and foot tapping. “Well?” 

Percy blinks. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Shit, what is he trying to say? “You know, Calypso offered me immortality. I could’ve escaped the prophecy, I could’ve lived in paradise forever—”

That probably wasn’t what he should’ve led with. “If you want me to ‘stick around and listen’, you’re off to a terrible start,” she seethes.

He steamrolls on anyway: “—but I didn’t, I didn’t take her offer, because — well, because of Grover and Tyson, and the quest isn’t over yet, but also because—” he stops. He’s rambling. Focus. How can he say this? “Did you really kiss me back there, or did I make that up in my head?” 

She freezes. Silence stretches out between them, and Percy kind of wants the ground to swallow him whole. But it’s out there, now. Might as well go all in. “I really hope you did, because I’m gonna feel insanely stupid if it was just some volcanic-explosion-induced fever dream.” 

Slowly, she unfreezes. Nods. “Uh. Yeah, I did.”

He takes a step closer. “I don’t care about ‘some mortal girl’. At least, not the way I care about….about you.” He can feel the blood rushing in his ears, can feel his heart beating painfully fast. She’s still just standing there, staring and staring but not moving. She’s not saying anything, why isn’t she saying anything?

“Gods, can you throw me a bone, Annabeth? I feel like I’m dying here—”

He’s cut off when she lunges forward and kisses him. It’s like their first kiss in two ways: it’s over before he can even react, and it leaves him staring, dumbfounded. How is it that she’s caught him off-guard with this not once, but twice now?

“Think you’ll remember that one was real?” she asks, still only inches from his face. Her breath smells of strawberries, and her eyes are puffy from his almost-funeral, but the storm in them begins to clear. 

He laughs, bright and full. “You should probably kiss me one more time, just to be safe.”

“Hmm,” she considers, arms coming up around his neck. “Should I count down so that you can be ready this time?”

He groans. “You are so not making this easy.”

“I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable. It shouldn’t be this cute.”

“Three, two—”

He’s on her before she reaches one, one hand pulling her closer at the waist and the other finding her cheek. When their lips meet, it feels like everything he’s been waiting for. Like the clouds parting, like sunshine, like warmth, like happiness.

It may not be their first kiss, but it’s their best yet.

[mengyan]

Do you do headcanons?? If so can i get some domestic carulia headcanons 👀 like after carmen spends some time in argentina but then she misses jules so she goes back to england but jules is sad she left her so abruptly and isnt taking her shit so carmen moves near her and like has to re-win her over🥺🥺

anon, i absolutely do headcanons!! my brain is practically a dump for headcanons, you’ve come to the right place :D and if anyone ever wants me to write any just leave me a request in my inbox!

here is part one of my classic fic style headcanons based off of the prompt you’ve given (which is SO good by the way please i am so tempted to write it into a full fic and add to my mountain pile of drafts rn-):

carmen loves her mother, she really does. she’s sweet and kind and her family. it’s all she’s ever dreamed of. after carlotta sees her standing on her doorstep, her warm brown eyes freeze and then she gasps, launching forward and hugging her equally as shocked daughter.

“your eyes. my god, i would recognize them anywhere. [given name], is that you?”

“it’s carmen, actually,” she manages to say, her mother hugging her like it’s the end of the world. and her mother doesn’t question it, merely letting go and smiling at her with tear filled eyes.

“well, carmen, it’s nice to meet you.”

things aren’t perfect after that, of course. there are questions, so many of them that they stay up the entirety of the second night talking (not the first, carlotta insisted that she had to get some sleep). carlotta doesn’t seem fazed when she tells her about VILE and stealing from them, cries when she brings up her father, but they push through it because now they have each other.

it’s strange, then, the feeling she gets a month or so later. she’s lying on the couch after a few rounds of games with the orphanage kids, and she doesn’t feel... satisfied. she should, shouldn’t she? this is what she’s spent her life searching for. she left her team behind to focus on this, to give something to herself for once.

it’s maddening. she can’t figure it out, talking to player as she bounces a ball against the ceiling. her mom worries, asking her what’s wrong, but she can’t answer her because she doesn’t know.

another few weeks pass. she’s cleaning her tools, sorting through her red coat for some nostalgia. a slip of paper falls out, and written on it is the address to this house she’s living in, and-

“player- i never asked, and i’m not sure if you even know. who found the address?”

he hesitates. a beat, then— “your favourite ACME agent.”

oh. oh. jules. she hasn’t let herself think of her ever since she left them all behind, afraid of the memories of her brainwashed time being dredged up. julia probably hates her, and rightfully so.

but she’s buzzing. she feels like she’s onto something, like satisfaction is just out of her reach, and player is more than happy to check up on julia’s blog for her whereabouts. turns out she’s not in france but in england, visiting her mother, telling her blog audience that’s why she’ll be inactive for a while.

carmen laughs at the irony. player books her a flight.

fast forward and she’s halfway to julia’s mother’s place and in the middle of the sidewalk, she stops, suitcase rolling behind her. she probably shouldn’t be showing up randomly like this, no warning and dropping back into julia’s life when she doesn’t need it. julia’s had to have moved on by now, the girl in red just someone who was too afraid to meet up with her before she left.

“red, what’s up?” player asks her, staring at her unmoving icon on his screen. “you having second thoughts?”

“kind of, yeah,” she admits. “i’m just not sure if-”

there’s a tap on her shoulder. carmen turns around and feels her heart drop out of her chest.

julia argent stares back at her, arms crossed and looking exactly the same with her glasses and dressed in a casual tan coat, yellow sweater, and black jeans. she looked good, and, well, annoyed.

“hey, jules!” the greeting doesn’t come out as confident and suave as she hoped, but it suffices, and player speaks excitedly from his end. tell julia i said hi! he says, before cutting off.

“by the way, player says h—”

“ms. sandiego,” julia says stiffly, none of the playful flirting and easy tones that she’s gotten used to. “why are you here?”

“i thought you—” carmen stammers, reaching into her pocket and showing her the slip of paper. “you gave me this, and i wanted to thank you. also you know you can call me carmen.”

something in julia’s eyes softens at the sight of the paper, but then hardens again when she looks back at her. “you’re welcome. you didn’t have to come all this way to tell me, though. and calling you by a first name basis would imply that we’re friends, but it seems that we’re not, doesn’t it?”

carmen chokes a little, eyes widening. “we’re not- friends?”

“i would think a friend would at least say goodbye or get in contact with me any way before disappearing for months, so no, ms. sandiego, i don’t think we are.”

carmen’s first instinct is to feel offended, but she understands where the agent’s slight hostility towards her is coming from. this wasn’t just julia being petty, it was the consequences of her actions that she had to now make up for.

“jules, i’m sorry,” she says, going to grab her arm but drawing back at the last second. right. their subtle touches with each other were definitely off limits now. “we can talk about this in somewhere that’s not a public sidewalk, and i’ll explain everything, i promise.”

julia’s mouth twists into a frown, and she uncrosses her arms, one finger pushing up her glasses. she looks her square in the eye, her gaze cold and unflinching. “what is there to explain, exactly? how you left me- left us all so abruptly, and gave your closest family a note to remember you by? zack and ivy mentioned it to me- they’re being trained for ACME now, but i’m sure you knew that already.”

she didn’t. she hasn’t asked player for updates for a month. a heavy exhale escapes her, and she wishes she had player in her ear. julia lets out a humourless laugh at her lack of a response.

“i guess you found something better, ms. sandiego. i’m happy for you.”

the declaration is bitter- and with that, julia spins on her heel and walks away, heading to her mother’s house. carmen stands with her suitcase on the sidewalk, apologies on the tip of her tongue, wanting to chase after her. she swallows them down and drops onto the nearest bench, burying her face in her hands and tapping her earring so player can reconnect.

“red! how’d it go? what has julia been up to? is she-” player’s voice bursts through with questions, and carmen doesn’t say a word, a new mission in mind.

“do you know where julia is staying? not her mom’s place, i’m assuming.”

if player is surprised by the question, he doesn’t comment, and carmen can hear his keyboard clacking as he scans address books and properties. “she’s a couple blocks over, i’ll text you the address,” he says at last. carmen’s phone pings with the incoming text, but that’s not the actual thing she’s looking for.

“thanks, player. are there any houses up for sale near her street?”

“give me a second.” player pauses, scrolling through listings, and then continues. “there’s one like, diagonally across from her house, actually.”

“we have any funds left from our world saving?” she can tell player knows what she’s asking for now, from the telltale anxious drumming on his desk and the slower than usual clicking.

“a couple million, actually. i thought we were slowly distributing to-”

“i’ll make up for it, maybe nag some of the VILE stragglers and the remaining stolen artifacts and whatnot. can you set up a meeting with the house owner so we can wire the funds over?”

“this is a bad idea,” player cautions.

carmen grins. “and since when have i ever been known to have a good one?”

part two will be up as soon as i can get it written out! if you’re the anon that sent this, send me an ask about part two so i can answer it that way!

[tessiete]

If you still take prompts: Rumors of the Duchess of Mandalore (bc patriarchal bs and misogynistic beliefs about female leaders) potentially getting married reaches Coruscant and Obi-Wan copes as well as can be expected. Cue sad boi sadness with maybe fluff at the end? Or go full angst I’m ok with either

I AM! I am still taking prompts, and I know this took a while to get around to because I’m also sloooooow at filling them. But here we are, dear anon. I hope you enjoy this little snippet! <3

THE GRAVITATIONAL DEFLECTION OF LIGHT

There is some silly, selfish part of him that he never outgrew, and like a weed in his gut it twists and writhes when he hears that the Duchess Kryze is to marry.

And suddenly, he finds himself thinking of her more often, and more frequently during situations where his attention would best be put to use elsewhere. In council, he is forced to ask Master Windu to repeat a question he’d failed to hear, his mind being drawn by the gleam of light off the Senate dome on the horizon. During a sparring match, he takes a hit he’d never have missed except that Anakin threatens to deliver him a close shave at the end of his saber, and he’s struck dumb by the memory of her hand upon his cheek. There are peace lilies in a vase in the Archives, and pure beskar changes hands in a deal he’s meant to disrupt at a Separatist camp, but by far the most egregious lapse comes in the midst of relief efforts in a small village on Taskeed. He is caught, for a moment, by the sight of a woman with blonde hair and a young boy on her hip turning away from him. His focus slips. A blaze of light flashes more quickly than he can see, and by the time he hears the retort of a blaster rifle he is already on the ground.

The clones close ranks around him. Cody kneels, calling in a medevac even as Obi-Wan tries to rise. 

“No, sir, stay down,” he says, laying one hand against his shoulder. Obi-Wan winces at the contact. His muscles strain at the effort, the nerves at the site of his injury ruptured and ragged.

“Cody,” he chokes out. “There’s a hostile.”

His second is a merciful man and makes no comment on the idiocy of that statement. Instead, he bites open a pain tab, and shoves it between Obi-Wan’s teeth. Then, so rapidly he has no time to protest, he removes his belt, and tears apart the fabric at Obi-Wan’s waist, sprinkling sulfa powder over the gory wound, and pressing a bacta patch down to cover it.

There is no more blaster fire to mark their passage back to the ship, but the wound is too serious to treat on board The Negotiator. He is sent back to Coruscant as a consequence of his foolishness.

There, he is dipped in bacta, where he doesn’t dream, and he spends the next week of his convalescence thinking of her.

It had never been this bad during their first separation. The months following her ascension to the duchy had been painful, that he cannot deny, and he spent hours in his room lonely, and self-pitying, but he had been a child then and he can forgive himself now of the folly of youthful indiscretions. There followed more than a decade between them and he had gone days, weeks - upon the outbreak of war even months - without thinking of her at all.

But with one touch of her hand, he’s fallen again, his resolve crumbling into dust as though his indifference to her were only a veneer grown thin and brittle with being stretched over so much time.

The Duchess of Mandalore is to marry.

Why should that matter to him? They are friends. Hardly that, and nothing more. And it was he who had defined those terms. So why should he be restless, and anxious, and fretted up like some craftsman’s handiwork at the thought of it? It is silly. It is demeaning - to her, and to him.

And yet...he wants to know.

Who is she to marry? And when? How did they meet? Is he a Mandalorian, like her? Or did she meet him here? Did they meet at the Senate while he walked in the Temple only a few klicks away? Have they much in common? Do his political aims match hers? Does he long for peace like she does? Will he stand by her side in upholding it? Would he die for it? Would he die for her? Does she love him?

She must, he thinks. She must love him. She would not choose him, otherwise.

And that, perhaps, is the cruelest thought of all.

He is confined to medbay with nothing to occupy his time but his holopad, his dispatch reports, and her when he sees a news story flash on his screen.

At Last! The Lily is Plucked

He cannot help himself as he reads about a chance meeting, a whirlwind romance, and plenty of private assignations held at various hotels and restaurants across Capital City. There are holos, too, and reels. He sees her leaving the Bal Silvestre on the arm of Corellian senator, Garm Bel Iblis.

Senator Bel Iblis is older than her, and seems a bit unkempt, his long hair pulled half back in a simple style. Obi-Wan knows of him by reputation, and heard him called a rake. His politics brand him a maverick, and a rogue, and he has been known, once or twice, to engage in backdoor negotiations in order to ensure a vote swings one way or another in his favour. Beside him, while he stands smug in his dark brocade, she shines. She is spotless. Luminous. They are not well matched.

He scours the net for more, and because he is looking, he finds it. There are many articles - hundreds. Some map out timelines of their courtship (they met years ago, apparently, at some gala held while Obi-Wan was still helping Anakin with Basic), some tell the history of their previous romantic entanglements (he was engaged to a woman now dead. She was once rumoured to be promised to a Vizsla. Obi-Wan’s name is not mentioned). Some merely provide pictures of their exploits, and comment on their mutual friends, making conjecture after conjecture about how their romance came to be, and what must happen next now that the flame has been rekindled. It is torturous. And tedious. And soon, Obi-Wan loses track of the details that appear in one article, and again in every other.

But one thing remains clear to him: Satine Kryze is going to be married. She has forever slipped his reach.

A reach, he pathetically reminds himself, he never intended to extend. All this self-flagellation is for naught. He is being ridiculous. 

So he thumbs off his pad, turns out the lights, and tries to sleep with the image of Satine, smiling and resplendent flickering in his mind. The next morning, feeling no better for the little rest he managed to steal, he deletes the history of his pad, and determines to feel absolutely nothing at all about Satine Kryze.

Then Padme comes to the Council and requests a padawan be sent to Mandalore’s aid.

It is Ahsoka who goes. Of course it is. He takes small solace in the fact that it had not been he who suggested her, but since she was assigned, he feels well within his rights to enquire about the Duchess upon her return.

“She seemed fine,” Ahsoka tells him. He has invited her for tea following her report to the Council, hoping he might, in his hospitality, coax a few more personal details from his grand-padawan. “I mean, there was a moment where Almec - that’s the Prime Minister, or rather was - anyway, there was a moment where he had her in a shock collar, but like I said, the cadets and I managed to sort it out.”

“Right,” he concedes. “As you said.”

A moment passes between them. Obi-Wan sips his tea, struggling to swallow as the fist around his throat grows tighter and tighter. Ahsoka, blissful in the aftermath of a successful solo mission, grabs another biscuit and a strip of perami gammon. 

“And tell me,” he ventures. “What of her - her consort? Any word of him? Where was he during this mess?”

“Her consort?”

“Her husband.”

Ahsoka scrunches her nose, and cocks a brow at Obi-Wan’s wild inquiry.

“She had a nephew,” she says. “But no one ever said anything about a consort.”

“Ah,” he says. “Perhaps he was occupied elsewhere.”

“Maybe,” she agrees, amicable and amenable to letting the whole thing slide. He only hopes she won’t think it significant enough to mention to Anakin later. His curiosity won’t be as easily sated with tea and deflection.

--

He is not a lucky man.

Anakin comes blazing into his room with an ambitious stride, and a grin that speaks of imminent mischief.

“Heard you were asking Ahsoka about the Duchess’ consort,” he says, throwing his cloak over the back of a chair and dropping to lounge across Obi-Wan’s low couch.

“I was asking about her mission,” he corrects. He turns his back to set some water to boil, knowing that such an entrance by his padawan indicates a visit of extended duration. “And the key players, therein. Purely professional.”

“Purely.” Anakin smirks.

The subject is dropped when Anakin is diverted by the service being laid before him, and the inclusion of several of his favourite confections.

“Noorian memba tarts!” he cries. “Where did you even find these?”

“An old recipe,” Obi-Wan says. “But I remember you enjoyed them when we dined on Belasco and thought I’d try my hand at it.”

It is not a bad effort either, judging by Anakin’s display of enthusiasm. He eats the first with some degree of etiquette, but the fourth, fifth, and sixth are gone with no display of decency or shame whatsoever.

Obi-Wan sips his tea. He is thinking of Tahl while Anakin is thinking of the sweetness on his tongue, and making excuses for his absence the previous night.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, but I was unavoidably delayed after the Senate recessed for the evening. I had to - to assist a delegate with a personal matter.”

Obi-Wan says nothing, but remembers how Qui-Gon, too, used to invent reasons to disappear unchecked. He invents nothing. He only cleaves to his duty, while time and fate conspire to keep him absent anyway. 

Anakin must hear something in his silence, because his expression loses the tension of equivocation, and he falls to studying Obi-Wan’s face.

“I was only teasing, master,” he says. “Before. I didn’t think to ask Ahsoka anything about the Duchess. She spent most of her time with the nephew, but he seemed a bright kid. Close to Satine. I can ask her to ask him if he knows anything -”

“Absolutely not,” says Obi-Wan. The words are soft, but definite. He rises swiftly to clear the detritus of their meal. “Thank you, Anakin, but Duchess Kryze is only a friend. I merely inquired out of a desire to assure myself that the report issued to the Council lacked nothing in the thoroughness of its presentation. I should hate to think that such a personal association might be overlooked as an avenue for effecting harm.”

“Oh.”

“But I thank you in any case. Ahsoka’s report was well done, and you should be very proud of your padawan,” he says. “As I am of you.”

He turns to Anakin then, smiling and benign. His padawan meets his look with a vaguely skeptical one of his own, before patting him on the shoulder, and shrugging back into his cloak.

“Alright, master,” he says. “I’ll let her know how thorough she was.”

“Goodbye, Anakin.”

“Goodbye,” his friend replies. Then, just as he crosses the threshold of the door and moves into the open hall, he looks back. “Oh,” he says. “There’s a quick supply run being made to Mandalore for relief in light of Ahsoka’s investigation. Scheduled for tomorrow, but unfortunately, I’m needed back at the Senate. I meant to ask - you wouldn’t mind making the trip for me, would you? You don’t even need to get off the ship.”

---

There is nothing he can say to Anakin, so of course, as contrived and embarrassing as the whole thing is, he goes. And he does get off the ship.

Satine is there to meet him.

“Master Kenobi,” she says, extending her hand. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

He drops a brief, and reverential kiss then lets her go. 

“Cleaning up after my padawan and his padawan, it seems,” he says. “Apparently, a master’s work is never over. Congratulations on your recent engagement, Duchess. I hope you’ll both be very happy.”

The look which passes over Satine’s face is one he cannot decipher. He thinks she looks in equal parts shocked that he has heard, disgusted by his presumption in speaking of it, embarrassed by his boldness, and wearied by his presence. But she doesn’t deny it, so he makes his excuses to leave.

“Excuse me, Duchess,” he says. “But this was only meant to be a very brief visit, and I should prepare for departure.”

“Can you not stay for midmeal?” she asks, and he hesitates upon the precipice of her invitation. “Surely you don’t mean to tease me with a visit as brief as this? And surely your men would enjoy some rest and repast before you go?”

The troopers at his back shift, and he can feel their eagerness undulate in the Force. It would be cruel to deny them for the preservation of his own fragmented dignity, so he relents.

“Of course, your grace,” he says. “We would be most honoured.”

“Captain,” she says to the Protector at her right. “Have these men fed and watered immediately. The kitchens and my staff are at their disposal.”

He clicks his heels, and disappears, while she steps forward, and wraps her arm around Obi-Wan’s as though completely uncaring of any beau or consort or husband who might see.

“You, my dear master,” she murmurs slyly by his ear. “Are to be attended elsewhere, at my discretion.”

He does nothing to resist as she pulls him along.

Soon, they are at the Palace. Soon, they are sat at a small table in her private quarters, drinking Mandalorian kava, and eating freshly baked land’shun. Soon, they are alone.

She sets her drink aside, and dusts her hands on a fine silk napkin before broaching the subject trapped between them.

“Now, what is this about my nuptials?” she asks. Her blue eyes are steady upon his own, and he feels his palms slick with sweat. She is radiant. She is regal. There is no holo or reel or word that could do justice to the beauty of this woman in the flesh, and he feels that insidious root of jealousy writhe with agony.

“Satine -” he begins.

“No, no,” she protests, seeming to anticipate his deflection before he has begun. “I should like to hear why you think I ought to accept your congratulations, and why you felt you ought to offer them personally, in particular. Mandalore seems a rather dull trip for a High General to make.”

“I came in Anakin’s stead, actually,” he replies pertly. Another sip of kava lends some sophistication to this claim.

“Of course,” she says, but she does not look away. He can feel her gaze upon him. He can feel her glittering in the Force. She is laughing.

And he cannot bear it.

“Forgive me, your grace,” he says, rising to his feet. He sets the cup upon a saucer where it clatters inelegantly against the pot of sucre next to it, overturning the dish and sending the crystals spilling across the table. “Forgive me,” he says again. 

She lunges forward to right the pot, and still his hand beneath her own. For a moment, he doesn’t breathe. Then, he pulls away.

“I read about it on the net,” he says. “I saw the holos, and the reels. I only wanted to see you one last time, to see...I wanted to see that you were happy. That’s all.”

“Oh, Ben,” she says, his name like a sigh upon the breeze.

“It is nothing,” he says. “A foolishness all my own. I am sorry if I have troubled you, and I offer you my sincerest congratulations.”

He bows, though when he raises his head, his eyes do not rise with it, so he does not see the look of sorrow upon her face. Still, he imagines it as pity, and moves to make his escape. She is faster than he is. 

“No,” she says, standing between him and the door. “I will not accept your congratulations, and I will not accept your departure on such callous terms as these.”

“Duchess -”

“Ben,” she counters, leaning on the name. “I am not engaged. I am not married. And I do not intend to be, no matter how devoted to the idea of it you are.”

“I - devoted?” he asks, his voice rising to the height of his indignation. “I am devoted to no such thing. I have only - only been reconciled to it for weeks, thinking only of you and your happiness.”

“And your own misery, too, I’d wager.”

He chokes on his denial because he knows it is too big a lie to fit through his lips, and stares at her in dismay. She is smiling. Force, he thinks. She is incandescent. Like she has swallowed a star, and he can’t look away. He would that he could be consumed by her too, and finally, he gives in.

“Yes,” he says in an admission of guilt so great it brings relief. “I was miserable. I am, I think, an infinitely miserable person.”

“You are,” she agrees. “But I am not getting married, I am not engaged, and I am only as in love as I ever have been. And if you are foolish enough to forget that, then you are deserving of every misery you heap on yourself.”

“Have pity,” he begs.

“None,” she says.

“Have mercy,” he pleads.

“For you?” she says. “Always.”

They fall together like gravity and sunlight, and for a moment, whole galaxies bend to their will.

[arcadejohn127-9]

Do you think you could do the Brothers reacting to a video surfacing of Male!MC in a disguised child fighting ring? And I’m not talking like “Oh no! look the kids are fighting down in the playground!” but like “Oh my god MC is brutally bashing this kids head into the ground in the middle of a classroom”

I totally get that this is a super dark request but..recently a video of my “Elementary teachers“ cheering me on to hurt my classmates and for them to do the same to me was sent to me and and I just... need the comfort, I guess. (It’s never as obvious as people think it is, and everyone underestimated what sick bastards will do when they want “entertainment”)

Again, totally get it if this is to dark, I could just really use the comfort, and I don’t have the time to get it anywhere else because I’m always working and quarantined so 🤷

That's really deep, this almost feels too personal to share as a prompt but I'll do what I can my best. I can't imagine the disgust and overwhelmed emotions you're experiencing right now

I was a fairly aggressive kid to my peers growing up and that shit eats at me but this kind of level? That's just heart breaking and the fact teacher did that is just sickening

I'm so sorry and hope this can give some comfort even if it's just a fraction. Thank you for coming to me with something so personal and I always feel touched you you guys come to my page for comfort asks and or prompts - it's a privilege to feel this trusted even if you are anons

Also I won't be using canon usernames because bad memory and uuuhhh I'm lazy

Warning: violence, children involved violence, swearing, angst, neglectful adults, hurt/comfort

L3vi:

Yoooo!!!! I just found this video of (Y/N) pop around a few servers

L3vi:

I'm a mod in most of them so I've been able to delete them after watching it and have been getting people to delete it but it's not working

A$$mo:

What do you mean? What video? 😮😳 Did nudes get leaked??!!

Scumbag:

HUH??! someone's sharing videos of (Y/N)??!! who are they?! I'll go right to 'em If they wanna be like that!

Lucifer:

A video? I'm guessing it's quite serious if you're trying to get people to delete it, what is it? we need to tell (Y/N) if a private video has been released to the public without consent

Cat boy (=｀ェ´=):

What are you doing just telling us

Cat boy (=｀ェ´=):

YOU DAMN SHUT IN IF SOMEONE IS PURPOSEFULLY HURTING (Y/N) WE NEED TO DO MORE THAN ASK THEM! STOP TAKING SO LONG TO EXPLAIN WHAT ELSE IS THE MATTER!!!!

l3vi:

FORGIVE ME!!!! I've been debating as this is pretty serious stuff

L3vi:

[sent an video]

5 of the brothers opened the video, Levi already watched it and Beel was offline, they all stared in shock. The Devildom can be am agressive and rough place when it can be but this?

They felt sick to their stomach. Seeing such innocent children being tainted and encouraged to be violent by the adults around them. To see such a little sweet looking you grab and beat on another child.

There was blood on the classroom carpet, screams and cheers. Threats ringing out the room by the teacher's whilst you screeched and threw down your small fists. Cries for their mother was the kid beneath you could muster.

The brother's heart broke at this.

Asmo sat there with hand over his mouth, tears lining the corners of his eyes. Mammon threw the phone down and just sat there, hearing everything that was happening. Lucifer could only watch so much of it before he turned off his screen; face to face with his tear eyes in the black screen. Satan felt apart of him shake, he was like this when he was younger but to hear the teachers cheers it just broke him. Belphegor was all for violence and people getting hurt but seeing you in that state at such a young age - he couldn't stand it.

This wasn't the you they knew. You never brought this up and the bigger question was; how did this get online?

Build a bitch:

Whoa just woke up to that

Build a bitch:

Who's been sharing this? How did people get this kind of film?? This had to be done in the human world

Build a bitch:

I'm getting Beel to check his phone

Lucifer:

This is just disgusting behaviour....poor (Y/N)..to be filmed like this, I cannot stand for this kind of thing, I trust you've already hacking their accounts of the sharers

L3vi:

I'm working on it! I only learned hacking back in 1990 and procrastinated on learning everything 😬

Scumbag:

I ain't believing this...! THEY JUST STOOD THERE AND FILMED WHILST JUST DOING THAT TO MY POOR HUMAN?!?! I SWEAR I'M GONNA GO FIND THOSE TEACHERS MYSELF!!!

BBQ foot lettuce:

I just got online, belphie told me there was an issue

BBQ foot lettuce:

Lucifer we need to stop this from spreading and tell Diavolo

build a bitch:

He's useless! I could do more than him in this minute!

A$$mo:

Poor (Y/N) 😭😭 I need to go hug my poor darling! That must of been awful! We can't let it spread and have (Y/N) find out

You did find out. You got it sent to you through direct message. This memory felt like such a blur, a nightmare they scratched the back of your mind that you could never tell if it was real or not. It was real.

You looked down at your hands; unstained and non damaged. They were trembling and you couldn't stop. You tried to stop the way your body trembled, your hand flying to your mouth as you let out a pain gag. Stars shimmering in your gaze as tears poured down your face, you couldn't focus on anything other than the pain in your throat. Your throat clamped and hugged itself as if it needed comfort from what you just watched. Your voice unable to escape.

You poured your agonized heart out into your pillow. You couldn't believe it. How did someone get this? How did they know it was you? Why did they send you this? Who else has seen this?!

So many questions filled your heard, you couldn't even focus on your own internal voice. Your vision growing more blurry as a fresh fountain of tears flooded out.

When you finally calmed down you reasurred yourself that no one else knew. You convinced yourself that nobody had to know or would even see it. You stumbled out of your bedroom with phone in hand, your cheeks blemished and stinging. Your throat finally released itself as you made your way to the kitchen.

Just act normal. Just act normal. Just act normal. Just act normal. Just act normal. Just act normal. Just act normal. Just act normal. Just act normal. Just act normal. Just act normal. Just act normal-

"(Y/N)?" come to the living room, we need to talk."

Your throat immediately closed back up. You thought you couldn't cry Anymore. You thought you were okay and able to push on but fresh tears came. You followed Lucifer to the living room only to be greeted by distraught expressions.

They knew.

Mammon was quick to stand up, charging towards you and hugged you as tightly as he could. You shriveled in his touch; internally demanding him to not do this but you just sobbed, hugging him back.

"It ain't ya fault and you were just a kid, you didn't need to go through that and your teachers were awful."

You cried harder and hugged him tighter. Asmo was the second to come over, hugging you tight.

"I'm so sorry, I know that can mean nothing but I truly am, you don't deserve this or anything bad that happened to you."

Beel and belphie came towards you third, joining in on the hug.

"You're not that kind of person and they're not real teachers, you're okay with us."

"You were just a child, you're not that experience and they shouldn't of sent that to you or anyone - we're fixing it, I promise."

Levi showed you his phone, hesitantly joining the hug.

"I've been hacking the accounts to see who's doing this to you, we'll make sure they can't do this, you're my Henry and i know he would never turn away from Someone in need."

Satan joined, rubbing your arm as he held you tight.

"We'll make them regret making you relive that memory and those teachers, they were no real ones if they treat you like that, we have you, you're safe and they were cruel."

Lucifer was the last to join, patting your head

"I promise we'll fix this, just let it all out."

And you did. Until you were barely awake, you laid on the sofa whilst Diavolo gently asked you do many questions. As soon as he could he came to see you, comfort you and see how you're feeling.

They didn't Leave your side until it was night-time, you were fast asleep and the brothers sighed. They will find out who did this and fulfil their promises. They'll stay with you but they also wanted to make those Teachers pay. They'll be here with you until you're able to feel peaceful within yourself and they fixed everything

"thank you..."