#and everybody sending him demon whispers & the feeling of being watched

[screamingatmyfandom]

Laudna & her creepy demon phone call: Hey Orym we're coming in!

Orym, having the worst experience ever: It's been 5 minutes...? what happened?

Laudna: we're bored!

[titlemewickedwonderland]

I've Got You (Ghost Oneshot)

Summary: After being rejected time and time again. After being abandoned by so many other people in her life; Y/n fears getting close to someone but her heart is weak and when she grows attached to Swiss; one of Papa's ghouls, she's scared that she'll lose him too, and the thought nearly breaks her apart.

Prompt:

3. One falling asleep on the other's lap

2. "I'm not going to leave you."

Follow My Work!

Request Board!

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a dim glow upon the desolate courtyard. In a quiet corner of the Abbey's gates, a young girl named Y/n stood alone, her heart heavy with sadness. With tears streaming down her face, she hugged her coat tightly around her shivering body. The bitter cold bit at her exposed skin on her legs from her dress, mirroring the icy emptiness she felt inside.

Y/n's once vibrant eyes, filled with hope and innocence, now reflected a profound sense of abandonment. Her parents, consumed by their own demons, had long since disappeared down the road and out of her life, leaving her to fend for herself and in the care of the Abbey that she had once enjoyed coming to visit. They had promised to be there for her, to protect and love her unconditionally. But their hollow words had turned to echoes, fading into the darkness along with their presence; just like everybody else in her life whether friends or family had. Was it her fault? Had she not done enough? Could she have done more?

She stood on the sidewalk, watching the world go by. In the pale light of the moon she felt invisible, a forgotten soul lost in the sea of despair and confusion. The weight of her solitude bore down on her fragile shoulders, threatening to break her spirit.

A gust of wind swept through the empty courtyard, rattling discarded leaves from the trees along the ground and sending a chilling breeze through Y/n's clothes. She hugged herself tighter, desperately seeking solace in her own embrace. As she looked up at the flickering lights that surrounded the Church, its feeble glow provided little comfort in the vastness of her loneliness.

A soft shuffle of footsteps came closer to her casting her gaze away from the building to find Papa standing there in his nightclothes with a robe on to fight off the chill. His unpainted face looked worn and sad; for her maybe as he extended his hand to her with a small smile.

"It's alright, mi cario. Come, come with me; let's get you out of the cold. There are some people who'd be happy to see you again."

But would they? Who would care? Memories of better days flooded her mind, teasing her with fleeting moments of joy. She recalled the laughter that once filled her home, the warmth of her parents' hugs, and the feeling of being loved by friends and family alike. But those memories had become distant whispers, fading remnants of a life she once knew.

A single tear fell from her cheek, freezing as it touched the ground. She gazed into the distance past Papa's figure to the entrance of the only place that truly stayed intact in her memories, searching for a beacon of hope, a sign that someone cared. A figure in the shadows moved into the light revealing the familiar face of her closest friend - at the sight of him her heart broke and she pushed past Papa; racing down the bricked pathway as if her very life depended on it and straight into Swiss' arms; her body slammed against his nearly knocking them to the ground but he stabilized himself and picked her up; holding her tightly against his chest as her body shook with loud unashamed sobs that echoed into the night.

With a nod to Papa across the yard the Multi-ghoul took his charge back to the ghoul's wing. Everyone else was sleeping in their rooms not yet awake as it was late so he took her to his bedroom and softly closed the door. He stretched out on his pillows; cradling Y/n to his chest as she shook from the sheer force of her crying. He knew her troubles with her family; knew that the damage that had been inflicted emotionally would leave a scar on her trust and her heart but she was not alone - he wouldn't let her be alone anymore. He had put hope in her parents to change their ways and they had failed, no more. No one else would hurt her as long as she had him.

"It's okay, starlight." he murmured pressing a kiss to her head as his strong hand, the hand that never in her time of knowing him had ever done her wrong, stroked soothingly along her back - easing the pain that her heart endured.

"I don't understand. What did I do wrong? What have I ever done wrong to anybody that warrants them leaving me? Am I that unlovable?" she whimpered shutting her aching eyes from the burn of her heartbreak.

"No, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong. You have done enough; more than enough. They did you wrong. They may leave you," his hand cupped her face, drawing it up to look down at her and gently wiping the wetness of her sadness from her cheeks.

"I swear to you, when everybody else leaves. I will never leave you Starlight. Never." he whispered staring down at her heartbroken expression.

"But what if you do? What if you find out I'm not good enough?" Y/n's whispered through trembling lips.

He gave her a sad smile of understanding as he pressed a kiss to her brow. "You, Y/n, are more than enough. You are perfect just the way you are; faults and all." he murmured pressing their forehead together.

"You promise?" Y/n whispered searching his face.

"I swear on everything I am worth, darling. You won't ever lose me. Through fire and hell itself. I will never leave you." Swiss promised seriously as he searched her tear-stained face and reddened eyes.

Without a word, Swiss bundled her arms against him; pulling the blanket up around them. The warmth of his embrace instantly melted away the chill in her heart that lay heavy in her chest. Y/n's head found a resting place on his shoulder, her tears trickling down her cheeks. But Swiss held her gently, his touch conveying both strength and tenderness.

The sound of winter's raindrops tapping against the window outside created a soothing backdrop as the two friends sat in silence. Swiss knew that sometimes, words weren't necessary, that the power of presence and touch could speak volumes. So he let Y/n take her time, allowing the emotions to flow freely and without judgment.

With every passing moment, as her tears slowly dried, Y/n felt a sense of release, as if the weight she had been carrying had been shared and lightened. Swiss' rhythmic breathing and the gentle strokes on her back provided a grounding presence, reminding her that she wasn't alone in her struggles.

With a lingering kiss to her head, Swiss whispered softly, "I'm here for you, starlight. You're not alone."

His voice was a comforting lullaby, soothing Y/n's restless mind. In that moment, their friendship transcended the bounds of mere companionship. They became pillars of support for one another, offering solace and understanding in a world that could sometimes feel cold and unforgiving.

Time seemed to suspend itself as Y/n surrendered to the embrace, feeling the warmth of their connection. The storm outside may have raged, but inside the haven of their friendship, there was tranquility. The simple act of being held provided a safe space for her to let go of her worries, to let the tears flow without restraint and without judgment.

As the rain began to subside and the room filled with a gentle calm, Y/n's sobs transformed into gentle sniffles. Swiss tightened his grip, silently communicating his unwavering support. In that shared moment, the love and trust between them grew deeper, forming a bond that could weather any storm.

Eventually, Y/n's tears dried, and she lifted her head from Swiss' shoulder. She looked into her best friend's eyes, a mixture of gratitude and understanding reflected in her gaze. With a soft smile, the ghoul wiped away the remnants of tears from Y/n's cheeks, and together they embraced even tighter, knowing that their friendship was a constant source of comfort and strength.

In that bedroom, with raindrops fading away, Swiss and Y/n basked in the warmth of their friendship, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, offering cuddles of comfort whenever needed and at that moment, Y/n made a silent promise to herself. She would gather the fragments of her shattered heart and build something new, something stronger. With each step she took, she vowed to rise above the pain, forge her own path and create her own destiny.

The world may have abandoned her, but she would never abandon herself. She would rise, a survivor of abandonment, and find her place in a world that had forgotten her, proving that she was more than the girl left behind. And at her side would be her best friend and the support of her other friends who slumbered nearby in the other rooms.

[wormstacheangel]

Bec and Ali Creators Week: Day 4 - baby!jack au where Dean fell into the portal with Lucifer and Cas lives

It’s been almost a month since Dean disappeared into the portal with Lucifer.

Sam has been off researching all things otherworldly while Mary does nothing but hunt. She never calls back but sends an ‘I’m okay’ text whenever she remembers.

Cas, on the other hand, has been on the run with baby Jack the whole time. He thought they could have lived in peace in the lake house, but since the portal opened, it’s been a calling card for every supernatural creature around them. Including angels and Cas couldn’t risk anybody hurting Jack.

“You can’t do this on your own!” Sam yelled at Cas through the phone. “Just tell me where you are, and I-!”

“No! Sam.” Cas sighed as he looked over at the motel bed to see Jack’s little hands grasping at air as he fidgets and laughs. “I can’t risk what happened before, happen again. Jack he-when he is upset it could be catastrophic.”

“I won’t hurt him.”

Sam promised. But he has promised this before, and the only reason Sam is alive is that Cas begged Jack not to hurt him. Jack was as powerful as anybody feared, but he is still so gentle. His powers only appearing when there was a threat nearby. Now Sam was a threat.

“I can’t be sure he won’t hurt you, Sam, and I just can’t risk you.” You are all I have.

The days were never lonely with Jack. Cas has dealt with true loneliness before to know the difference. But they weren’t any easier.

“Please, Jack. Please stop crying.” Cas would bounce Jack in his arms, unable to understand what was wrong. Jack doesn’t get sick like a regular baby. He doesn’t sleep or eat like one either, so those books were utterly useless. They only helped remind him repeatedly about keeping to a schedule, and right now, Jack should be tired.

Cas sang to him, hoping whoever banged the motel door won’t come back yelling about shutting the baby up. Jack has cried for two hours now. Not stopping. And while Cas did not sleep, he felt exhausted.

“Show me what’s wrong, Jack. Please. I want to help you.”

Dean would know what to do. He would know how to hold Jack and bounce his arms to an exact beat that made all babies feel comfortable. Dean was amazing with kids. Amazing with everybody.

“You would have loved him.” Cas bent his head over to press a kiss to Jack’s soft bald head. He took a big calming breath of baby before continuing to bounce the baby in his arms. This time Cas sang a familiar song, one may be inappropriate for Jack but comforting nonetheless. “And if you say to me tomorrow. Oh, what fun it all would be. Then what's to stop us, pretty baby. But what is and what should never be.”

“I actually didn’t understand the lyrics and had to look them up.” Cas talked as he looked ahead at the ugly wallpapered room. “Dean knows them, though. Sometimes he mumbles it, and he gets embarrassed when he messes up, but he knows it. He just gets excited.”

Cas stops talking when he realizes the crying has finally turned into easy breathing. Jack was finally asleep.

The relief didn’t last long. Cas was lying in bed, eyes shut with Jack sleeping on his chest when he felt something off with the air around them. It tasted too electrifying and heavy to feel like a storm.

They have been found again.

Cas is quick to pack up, cradling a once again crying baby to his chest. It would be faster if he had both his arms to pack up their mess, but he left some things behind as he drove off. Leaving another motel for the road again.

Driving the Impala to the next motel took a three-day drive. Jack was patient enough, blabbering alongside the music, but even they needed to stop to get some fresh air every once in a while.

In the motel, Cas once again had to watch the video on how to bathe a baby because he always assumes he will do it wrong. He made a checklist out loud, asking Jack what else they may need besides food and diapers. He promised to head straight to the store in the morning to buy him new clothes since the baby quickly outgrows every new outfit Cas could manage to get him.

As the day was winding down, Cas called Claire to check up on her. She worries about him but won’t admit it out loud, so Cas keeps the conversation focus on her. She asks about Jack but more to be polite. She is scared that the baby may end up being the thing that would kill him, but Cas saw a future where Claire was happy and safe, so all this trouble would be worth it.

Though he saw a future with Dean too, but every day, it felt like that vision was wrong. Maybe that vision was long gone now. All possibilities to it were now shattered.

Cas turned to the bed when he heard the start of cries. Jack was waking up.

“Hey.” Cas crawled into bed beside him. “Oh, don’t cry, Jack.”

He presses a kiss to his son’s head, feeling warmth run through him. “I love you so much. You know that?” Cas lifts Jack up and holds him to his chest again. Letting Jack settle down for a second before Cas continued. “I know we are dealing with a lot right now, but having you, Jack, still makes me feel happy. I just wish I could give you the life you deserve.”

Cas sighed as his hand gently pats at Jack’s back.

“I just wish I could give everyone I love the life they deserve.”

They settle in the motel for a week before they had to move on. Motel. Impala. Motel. Impala. That was their life.

“I’m so tired,” Cas whispered to himself in the mirror, splashing water on his face as he hears Jack continue to cry in the room over. Of course, Cas would start crying himself because Jack has been crying with no rhyme or reason. Not one that Cas could find.

They haven’t stopped driving for a week. They rested in the car, and it was only a short time before they were found again. Cas finally lost whoever was after them after killing three demons in the gas station, but he was nicked a few times. Grace seeping out of him for a few seconds before he healed himself.

Jack could heal him, sure, but every time he used his powers, they had a new group coming after them. So no powers for right now. While Cas was desperate to feel better, he was also desperate to stay put for a while and not drive.

“Jack, baby, please don’t cry anymore.” Cas crawled back into bed, tears forming around his eyes. “Please stop crying. I’ll do anything you want.”

Jack’s little lungs gave it everything they got in the sudden yell, and Cas hid his face in Jack’s little body as he cried alongside his baby.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “Dean would have known what to do. He would have taken so much better care of you.”

Jack’s little cries stung again and again. Feeling hopeless and frustrated, Cas only kissed him. He was trying to quiet his cries while also fighting his own.

“Please, baby, don’t cry.” Cas cradled Jack to his chest and kissed his little head as Jack’s tiny fist hit him. “I never knew how much it would hurt to see a child cry. I never thought I would know this heartache.”

Cas started to sing. "You are my sunshine. My only sunshine.”

The voice filled with more gravel as he fought his own sob.

Cas fell asleep for the first time since having Jack. He dreamt of the happy vision, of Dean, of the happy family he longed for. All the things that were looking impossible today.

Cas wakes up to a flash of light.

[americancowgirl19]

Prince of Hell

Summary: You’re Esme’s brother. You two haven’t seen each other in a long time but now she needs your help to keep Renesmee safe.

Warnings: Death, violence, a little fluff and a little angst

Reader: Male Reader

Pairings: Demetri Volturi x Male Reader

Word Count: 3,108

A/n: Might make a part two

Masterlist

Esme stands in the doorway of Renesmee’s bedroom. The little girl sleeps soundly without a care in the world. Carlisle comes up behind her and embraces her tenderly.

“She’s going to be ok, we’ll protect her.” Carlisle whispers kissing the side of her head. A couple of hours earlier Alice had gotten the vision about the Volturi coming for Renesmee. They came up with the plan to find witnesses to protect her. Esme fears that it won’t be enough.

“Nothing will ever be the same,” Esme whispers. “The Volturi won’t forgive those who stand on our side. Not everyone has a coven to protect them when this is over. They could pick them off one by one when they leave.”

“We won’t force anybody to help us, they’ll know what they’re getting into.” Carlisle whispers. Esme sighs turning in his arms.

“There’s another option,” Esme whispers. Carlisle tilts his head. She slips out of his arms and leads him toward the living room where the rest of their family sits. They’re all planning on who is going to go to who. 

Edward’s the first to look up. Esme has no doubt he’s reading her mind by the curious look on his face. A second later, Alice’s eyes go distant. When she comes back, her eyes fall on Esme.

“What is it?” Bella asks noticing both of their looks. Soon, everyone’s looking at Esme.

“When I was human I was married to a dangerous man,” Esme begins. “When I became pregnant I knew I couldn’t stay with him anymore but I didn’t have the money or the resources to leave,” Esme takes a seat on the plush chair toward the middle of everyone. “So, I went to my brother and told him everything. He got me out that night,” Esme smiles softly as she thinks of you. “We had been close as children but drifted apart as adults. But that night it was like nothing had changed. He took care of me, kept me safe,” Her eyes fall down into her lap. “Then I had the baby and two days later... I lost him,”

“Greyson?” Edward question remembering her son.

When Carlisle changed Esme she had a week old son named Greyson. He grew up with them after Esme learned how to control herself.. He didn’t want to become a vampire and had died of a heart attack only a decade ago.

They had been able to hide him from the Volturi. They had only found out about him when Edward went to Volterra when he believed Bella to be dead. By then, however, Greyson was dead.

“Yes, Greyson,” Esme nods. “He had a lung defect. He was supposed to be dead which is why... Why I jumped off the cliff before Carlisle found me.” Carlisle places a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiles up at him and places her hand over his.

“How did he survive?” Bella asks.

“My brother, Y/n... He sold his soul to save my son.” Esme told them. 

She remembers the day he had done it. Esme had been spiraling and you just knew she wouldn’t live in a world without her son. You couldn’t bare the thought of losing Esme and knew you had to do something to save her son.

By the time you sold your soul, Esme had already jumped off the cliff. You had a few years before the hounds of hell came to collect you. Esme stayed with Carlisle and learned control. A day before your time ended, you found Esme and gave her the five year old son.

“Sold his soul?” Emmett asks, raising an eyebrow. Esme didn’t blame them for being skeptical. There were fewer demons on Earth than vampires. The ones that were on Earth stayed hidden and played with the humans from the shadows.

“He’s a demon.” Alice whispers connecting the dots.

“A demon? Those exist?” Rosalie asks. Esme nods.

“Where do you think nightmares and tragedies come from? Deaths so unexplainable that not even a shapeshifter or a vampire can understand?” Esme asks them. “Most of them are locked away in hell and can only come up if they manage to escape or are summoned by someone. They’re stronger than a thousand newborns combined,”

“That’s why the Volturi were afraid of him,” Alice says thinking back to her recent vision. “None of their powers worked on him and he was more powerful than all of them,”

“So, how do we get in contact with this guy?” Emmett asks.

“It’s not that simple,” Esme tells him. “It’s very dangerous. If we mess up we could be releasing something far more dangerous than him. If we do it right, there’s no guarantee that he’ll help us. He’s been a demon for almost a hundred years, there’s no telling if my brother’s still... himself.” 

Bella turns her head toward Edward. Esme watches them waiting for someone to say something. A few moments later, Edward looks back at Esme.

“How do we contact him?”

The moment the question leaves his lips the room drops in temperature. It’s enough to send a shiver through Jake’s spine. The lights flicker as the windows begin to be covered with frost.

“Ask nicely,” Everyone’s head turns toward the corner. Sitting in the shadows is a man dressed in black slacks and button up shirt along with an equally dark vest. His hands are hidden behind gloves with a leather jacket that reaches down to his midthigh.

“Y/n,” Esme whispers standing up. You smirk and push yourself up as well. With a snap of your fingers the lights return to normal and the frost melts away.

“Sorry for the dramatics... I like to make an entrance,” You states, a lop sided smirk on your lips. “I was in the neighborhood, thought I heard someone talking about me so I decided to drop by.” You explain sauntering into the middle of the living room. Your eyes look around, observing the home around you. “I hear you’re in a bit of a bind, little sister.”

“It’s my granddaughter... She needs your help,” Esme tells you. You chuckle darkly before spinning on your heels to look at her.

“It’s always a child with you, isn’t it?” You ask smirking. She gives you a small, unsure smile. “What do you want me to do? I can’t very well sell my soul, I already did that for your first child. One soul, one child,” You sit in a chair, draping your arm over the back, your ankle resting on your knee.

“Do you know of the Volturi?” Your eyes slide away from your sister to the pixie hair cut girl, Alice. You knew everyone in the room. You had been keeping tabs on your little sister and knew who she came in contact with and who she adopted into her family.

“Ah, yes, the Volturi,” You smirk, looking back at Esme. “They’re good for business. Send plenty of souls to hell for us to feed on,” Your comment makes most of them unease. You soak up the anxiety.

“Mommy?” You’re eyes snap to the little girl by the steps. You stand up at the same time her mother flashes beside her. You had heard about this little girl but this is the first time you’ve seen her.

“So, this is the child you so desperately want to protect,” You state, your eyes remain on the girl as you move closer.

“The Volturi believe she’s an immortal child,” Esme says.

“How idiotic,” You whisper kneeling in front of the child. “Her soul is much too bright and her heart is much too active. Hello, little one,”

“Hi,” She whispers, hugging her mothers waist. You send her a small smile and a playful wink before standing up.

“You never answered my question,” You say, turning back to Esme. “What do you want me to do? Kill the coven? Possess them? Make them fall to their knees and beg for mercy?” By the end your lips are curled into a sadistic grin.

Esme looks at you for a moment and all she can feel is sorrow. When you were human the only person you ever wanted to harm was her husband. Now, you would kill and torture without a second thought. In fact, you seemed to enjoy it. 

Hell had twisted your soul into someone almost unrecognizable. She was relieved that you held a little bit of goodness in your heart to at least consider helping them.

“We just want them to leave us alone,” Esme tells you. You pout at the boring request.

“Well, I can do that,” You nod walking away from the child not failing to notice how the room relaxed as you put distance between yourself and her. “However, I don’t do anything for free anymore. I’m going to need something in return,” You whisper standing toe-to-toe with Esme. You gently brush your knuckles along her cheek like you used to when you were human and she needed to feel safe. “little sister.”

“What do you want?” Esme asks quietly. You hum stepping away from her.

“Oh, the endless possibilities,” You whisper, sitting down in the chair you had previously occupied. “How much is that little girl worth to you?” You ask the people in the room. “Are you truly willing to make a deal with the Prince of Hell?” You ask.

“Prince of Hell?” Jake asks. Your eyes flicker to him.

“Well, at least I’m not the Devil,” You joke before tilting your head side to side. “Not yet at least,” You shrug. “I’ve been in hell for 80 years... That’s human years, time moves differently down there. Once they dragged me down by my ankles I began working my way up with my hands. My ambition has payed off... Who knows, maybe in another 80 years, you’ll have had the pleasure of knowing the Devil?”

“Lucky us,” Emmett mutters.

“Yes, lucky you, indeed” You growled standing up. “I may be the Prince of Hell but I am still your older brother,” You said looking at Esme. “While my services are no longer free, I will always answer your call. You all are her family which makes you my family which means that I will aid you when you need me but like I said... I don’t work for free.”

“So, what’s your price?” Edward asks. You turn to him. You stare at him for a moment before looking around the room.

“A favor,” You tell them. “One favor,” You hold up your pointer finger and spin around for everyone to see. “A favor anybody, or everybody, in this room can fulfill,”

“And the favor?” Bella asks, tightening her hold on Renesmee. Your smirk you send her is enough to strike fear into her unbeating heart.

“I don’t know,” You shrug putting your hands behind your back. “I will come whenever I am in need of your services. You fulfill my favor and you’re free. I will make sure Renesmee is protected from the Volturi and all will be well again,”

“No,” Esme shakes her head regaining everyone’s attention. You arch an eyebrow at her. “You want someone to do you a favor, you ask me, not my family.” She says sternly. “I will not allow you to hold this over their head,” You smirk deviously.

“You’ve grown clever, little sister” You praise her. “Much smarter than you had been as a human, I’m proud.” Esme holds your gaze. “Fine,” You give in. “One favor and only Esme can fulfill it,” The rest of the family tries to argue but you ignore them and walk up to your sister. “Please don’t die before I cash that favor in,”

“You’ll know how to find me,” Esme tells you. You nod before giving her the first genuine smile you’ve given anyone in decades.

“I am truly happy to see you, little sister,” You whisper to her. You gently kiss her forehead. “Renesmee will be safe, I promise,” You vow because vanishing in thin air.

Within a few seconds, the Volturi castle began to suffer the same side effects of your arrival. All the vampires looked around as the lights flickered and frost covered the windows. When the lights went back to normal, the vampires noticed a new presence in the middle of the throne room.

A few of the Volturi guards hissed in alarm but you paid them no mind. Your eyes zeroed in on the man in the middle, Aro.

“Who are you?!” Caius shouted, standing from his throne. You ignore him which doesn’t help his temper.

“I’ve come to inform you that Renesmee Cullen is not an immortal child, she’s a hybrid. Leave the Cullens alone and I’ll allow you to live.” Aro chuckles while Caius glares harder. Marcus seemed indifferent but his eyes continued to go from you to another vampire.

“And what proof do you have to back up your statement?” Aro asks, stepping closer to you. You smirk.

“I don’t have to answer to you and I’ve already given you your warning. Shall you continue to go against the Cullens, there will be... consequences.” You warn him. “I’ll be watching,” Once the final word leaves your lips, you disappear.

“Intriguing,” Aro whispers before turning to Demetri. “Find him.” Aro orders. Demetri bows before leaving. Only problem, he can hardly feel your tenor. 

You kept your eye on the Volturi. Just as you hoped, Aro didn’t stop planning against the Cullens. You were about to prepare yourself to make another appearance when you sensed something.

“I’ve never met anyone who could sneak up on me,” You state, walking to the chair to put your jacket on. “Although, you are the first who’s been able to sneak into my home.” You turn toward the intruder. He slowly comes out of the shadows. 

You stare at him and tilt your head. He’s certainly one of the more attractive vampires you’ve seen. Then there’s the fact that he was able to hunt you down. You were impressed and highly curious.

“How did you find me?”

“It’s my ability... I can find anybody,” You hum moving closer to him. His scent begins to fill the room and it was slowly captivating your attention.

“But I’m not just anybody,” You whisper, inching closer to him. “Vampire abilities aren’t supposed to work on me... Not like they usually do, at least”

“And why is that?” He questions. You begin to smirk, sauntering even closer. He shifts on his feet but his eyes remain locked with yours.

“Why do you think?” You ask, not hesitating to invade his personal space. “Come on,” You whisper, taking a deep whiff of his scent. “You know the answer,” Demetri doesn’t answer. “You and your kind wonder the Earth thinking your the demons but you’re just child’s play.”

“Why do you care about the Cullens?” Demetri asks.

“I had a human life at one time, a human life I shared with a Cullen. They asked for a favor and I’m about to go back to the Volturi to finish it. Care to join me?” You ask, offering him your arm. He looks at it, pinching his eyebrows. “It’ll be a lot faster if we do this my way,” You whispers, sending him a wink.

Hesitantly, Demetri links arms with you. You grin at him and transport the both of you from your apartment to the Volturi Castle. When you arrive, Caius stands alarmed. Demetri moves to the side to stand with his fellow guardsmen. 

“Aro, Aro, Aro,” You tsk slowly. “You were warned,”

“And I explained that I needed proof. I have to protect us, this child may be a threat.” Aro states.

“Maybe,” You shrug. “But you won’t be around to see it,” You tell him. A few of the vampires growl at you. You pay them no mind. 

You then feel a prick in the back of your mind. A familiar feeling you get when a vampire tries to use their abilities on you. Your eyes shift to the blond girl by the steps.

“Performance issues, sweetheart?” You smirk. She snarls at you. You raise your hand to grab the vampire that tried to attack you. You grab his throat and lift him off the ground. “Sloppy,” You whisper and squeeze your hand so tight that his head just pops off. You then straight your vest and adjust your jacket. “Anyone else?” You ask, opening your arms welcomingly. 

A most of the guard tries to take you down but you don’t break a sweat dismembering them. They try to use their powers but they’re ineffective on you. You turn your head and notice Demetri standing by you. He rips a nearby guard member to pieces. He turns back to you, his eyes pitch back.

You slowly grin finding his black eyes just ask attractive as his ruby red ones. Tearing your gaze from Demetri, you look back at Aro. The king hisses but before he can move you’re in front of him. You place your hand on either side of his face forcing him to look into your eyes.

“You believe vampires don’t have a soul,” You whisper. “How wrong you are,” You chuckle, feeling your eyes blazing brightly. “You have a soul... It’s just pitch black. No worries, I’ll rid you of it.” Aro begins screaming as you suck his soul out of his body.

As Aro dies in your hands, what’s left of the guard disperses. When Aro’s soul is gone, you toss his body to the side feeling refreshed. It was the first time you consumed a vampire soul. Demon usually leave vampires along but after having a taste of the power his soul gives you. You want more.

“Well, Demetri,” You hum turning toward him. “I have a mission,” You walk down the steps. “At the moment, I am known as the Prince of Hell,” Demetri raises his eyebrows at you. “I don’t plan on staying a mere prince. I want the whole kingdom, I want to be king.” You state stopping in front of him. “Consuming the souls of vampires might just give the power I need to overthrow the current monarch.”

“And?” Demetri asks. You smirk, brushing the tips of your fingers along his jaw.

“Help me, Demetri,” You whisper, loving how his name rolls off the tongue. “Help me find vampires, help me become king, and I will give you everything you desire” You promise, trailing your fingers down his throat and over his chest. “I’ll give you the world and I will give you Hell.” You smirk playfully.

“I know just where to start,”

[astaroth1357]

Leviathan's Odyssey 9 (End):

Isolation

*Lucifer is in the Student Council room collecting paperwork when he hears his phone go off… It seems like Barbatos is messaging him yet again... For the third time this week. Though he dreads whatever news it brings, Lucifer checks his messenger and lets out a long sigh when he gets his confirmation*

*Levi was sent home early… again. He hasn’t been present for a full day of classes in nearly a week and Barbatos is beginning to get on Lucifer’s case about it… Diavolo placed a lot of trust in the eldest to bring his brother under control, but it hasn’t exactly been very successful and his butler sees no problem with applying the pressure in his lord’s stead. Though he wouldn’t call this latest message a threat of expulsion, he can sense they’re getting dangerously close…* 

*normally, Lucifer would wait for the day to finish himself before returning to the House and giving Levi a lecture, but that approach hasn’t been faring well… Though he loathes to be absent, who knows what trouble his brothers could get in, he sends his response to Barbs and goes to collect his things. He has been thinking up a few solutions to the “Leviathan Problem” and it’s about time he started enacting some, but first he needs to do some shopping*

*it isn’t hard for Lucifer to find what he was looking for in the shopping district and he makes it back to the House about an hour before classes would officially end. He already knows where Levi would be, he’s been nothing is not predictable since he first came home with them... In many ways, he still has the mindset of a combat survivalist. He quickly grew territorial of the room they gave him, he tries to grab as much food as possible at meals, and every new person or situation is treated with hostile skepticism... Their brother may be home, but he certainly isn’t “back." Not yet anyway...*

*when Lucifer ascends the steps to go to Leviathan’s room, he tries knocking on the door first. Levi had taken to making ridiculous entry passwords again, an encouraging sign, but that was mostly because Lucifer forbade him from issuing trial by combat to newcomers… Unfortunately, today there wasn’t any voice on the other side… Lifting the lock on the door is child’s play with just a little magic, so after giving his brother ample time to say something, Lucifer opens the door himself*

Lucifer: Leviathan? *he pokes his head in with a bit of caution, Levi could still be quick to lash out if caught off guard*

*Lucifer’s eyes scan the dimly lit room, with only the soft blue glow of the water tank behind a glass wall offering him any light. They discovered quickly that Levi’s skin would dry out at an alarming rate without some access to water. Their first fix was to give his room a bathtub that he could soak in, but due to its narrow size Lucifer eventually had an aquarium installed for him instead. He could climb in and out from a gap near the ceiling and it had more room for him to move around freely. That seemed to resolve the issue, but Levi still remained fond enough of the bathtub to keep it around*

*he half expected to find his brother in said tub, back to the doorway and trying to ignore him, but instead he sees a black figure curled up at the bottom of the water tank. He recognizes Levi, even in his newest form - or at least the form that they taught to him once he was on dry land. While in the ocean, Levi never needed to be rid of his gills or scales, they were practical for swimming but not so much for daily life. His new form kept his tail, horns, and patch of scales here and there, but it mostly allows him to pass as an average demon. He can maintain an even milder appearance without any of the extras, but he doesn’t seem to like it as much… He always complains of feeling “too small” without his tail*

*Lucifer steps into the room and closes the door behind him. Under all of that water, Levi probably didn’t hear him knock… Or maybe he did and didn’t feel like answering. He found it hard to pinpoint just what his brother could or couldn’t do anymore… When he gets into the room, he sets a white grocery bag he had been carrying on a nearby table. He’ll have to bring up its contents at the right time… He needs to speak to Levi first.* 

*Lucifer goes to the glass wall and gently knocks his knuckles against it. The black bundle in the water stirs and Lucifer watches as Levi's tail slowly begins to unravel from his body... Soon enough, he’s looking his brother in the face but he doesn’t look very happy to see him… He rarely looks happy to see anyone frankly…*

*Lucifer points up to the edge of the tank and gestures to his ear, signaling that they need to talk. He’s almost surprised at how easily Levi obliges this time, pushing off of the aquarium floor and swimming up until he’s above the surface. After taking a gulp of air, he leans over the edge of the glass - seemingly unbothered by the droplets of water that cascade to the floor.*

Levi: What do you want, Lucifer?

*Lucifer tries his best to look stern, but not overly angry. Though Levi is far less dangerous inland than he was by the ocean’s shore, he’s no less irritable... If this conversation is going to happen, he’s going to need to keep his composure for a while longer*

Lucifer: Barbatos informed me of what happened today… 

Levi: And?

Lucifer: Annnd, we’ve already been over this, Levi… You can’t keep stabbing your fellow students with forks. 

Levi: If you gave me my trident back, then I wouldn’t need to use them.

*Lucifer groans a bit and fights the urge to rub the bridge of his nose… Of course he’s in a mood again…*

Lucifer: Don’t play games with me, Levi… You know what the real problem is here.

Levi: Yeah, it’s the stupid school! I hate going there...

Lucifer: Levi, Lord Diavolo was very gracious to offer you a place in his academy and a seat on the student council, no less. And being one of his military officers now also puts you in a position of great importance... Your actions reflect on him and his kingdom as whole-

Levi: I know all that already, I heard you the first time! *Levi leans his chin against the edge of the glass, but still doesn’t look any happier. To his credit, he has been trying to yell at his brothers less... So it’s not too surprising to hear his voice suddenly drop down to solemn whisper*

Levi: … You know what everybody calls me there? The “Fish Freak...” They say I smell like a beached whale… *Lucifer blinks at the revelation, because this is news to him*

Lucifer: Is that so…?

Levi: Everyday. And you know what else? They trip me in the hallway or throw my things in the fountain. Somebody even left a dead squid on my desk! *a familiar look comes into his eyes now, one burning of hatred - but this time not directed at brothers...*

Levi: They’re lucky I only have forks right now...

*a part of Lucifer wants to be fine with Levi sticking up for himself… The Demon World is a cruel and harsh place where intimidation is often the best answer. He and his brothers had to learn that the hard way… But Diavolo’s goals are peace and unity - the academy was even founded with that in mind… His students should be shying away from such barbaric tactics and the council has an example to set… As much as it pains him to say it, Levi’s actions are unacceptable…*

Lucifer: Tell me the students’ names and I’ll have them punished. I guarantee you that... *takes a deep breath to prepare for what he must say next…*

Lucifer: … But you can’t keep causing trouble like this, Leviathan. Lord Diavolo has a strict code of-

*Lucifer watches as Levi groans and lifts his head off the glass, though this time he looks more frustrated than enraged*

Levi: There you go again! Diavolo this and Diavolo that!! Don’t you ever think of anything else??

Lucifer: That’s Lord Diavolo to you, and of course I do. But this isn’t the Celestial Realm anymore, Levi, and we need to adapt to his rules. *Levi’s eyes narrow at him, seeing an opportunity to dig in the knife…*

Levi: There’s adapting and then there’s ass-kissing... Which are you doing, Lucifer?

*and like that, for just a moment, Lucifer wants to abandon the whole project. He wants to leave Levi to wallow in his tank and go back to more important matters... He wants to throw his gifts into the garbage and just forget he ever bought them! His anger must have been plain to see, because Levi looks almost regretful for a second as he pushes back from the glass*

Levi: … Yeah. I didn’t think so.

*with that, Lucifer watches his brother sink back underwater and return to the floor of his aquarium. He honestly has half a mind to just turn and walk away, at least until he sees Levi curl up on his side against the store bought sand. He draws legs into the fetal position and faces his back the glass wall, letting his tail once again curl around his body as he goes back to laying in the water… alone…*

*the lonely image is enough to bring Lucifer back to some sense… Had he really forgotten why he was there so easy? With a steadier mind, he gently places a gloved hand against the surface of the glass, watching Levi from behind the wall between them…*

*his brother fell from Heaven then had to survive on his own… when he came back, he not only found out that his family had been living like royalty, but they hadn’t even been out looking for him in a long time… Now he’s been ripped from the home he’d grown accustomed to and thrust into a culture he barely understood…*

*Was it any wonder he was struggling? Was it any better for him in the Devildom than it was beneath the sea? Would it have been better to just let him stay where he was comfortable…? These thoughts have plagued Lucifer for some time, but he wouldn’t dare break up his family now…* 

*Maybe... Hopefully… Levi just needs an outlet to help him cope...*

*Lucifer knocks on the glass a second time, but it’s not an angry pounding or anything. Levi must not have expected that, because he actually looks back at him in mild surprise. Lucifer signals once more for him to get out of the water before stepping aside to grab the grocery bag from before. Intrigued, but cautious, Levi swims back up to the surface and pulls himself up to the edge*

Levi: … What’s that?

Lucifer: Something I bought for you. *Lucifer picks up the bag and goes back to the tank. Levi’s eyes widen slightly with shock*

Levi: You bought something… for me?? Why?

Lucifer: It’s something that I think you’ll like… I’m told it’s very entertaining and hopefully it has all the… violence that you’ve grown accustomed to... 

*he digs into the bag and pulls out two things, a DVD box-set of something called “My Life as a Demonic Pirate Defeating the Seven Lords of Hell” and a paperback book with a cute looking mermaid on the cover under the same title*

Lucifer: Levi. Have you ever heard of something called anime?

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

(Chuuya x Reader)

I’m back! (At least for now. Things calmed down at home. I’m actually writing this using my poor mobile hot-spot while driving 18 hours back home from looking at houses down south.)

Enjoy some comforting fluff with Chuuya.

(once again, excuse my messy style of second and third swap)

Words: 1045

(kinda fluff)

Breaking apart (Chuuya x Reader)

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

Nights had been dark, lonely, sometimes cruel before meeting him. Their life had swayed without much excitement. Other than the crimson which stained the floor they walked upon, they lay without much. Beds of thorns and roses dyed red and black, strong enough to make a notable rank. There was nothing more they had needed. Within their walls they shed no mercy, no tears or remorse to spread along with the victims. A demon, one worthy of another demon's attention. There were always eyes watching their every move. A heartless monster, a name, a taunt, tender ears were used to hearing such things.

What if… what if, beneath the layers of stone, laid an ocean full of life? Emotions swimming like fish along the ocean of one's mind? There is no human being who is born without feelings. It is something one learns. Pain, it’s a funny word. What defines it? Does it have to be something physical or can it be something that is purely mental? Are you weak to feel pain? Who are you if you lock away feelings to hide yourself? Who are you if you wear any mask needed to fit in? That is the question they think in their restless nightmares.

Some people break away from the outer shells. The glass walls that are easily penetrated, the cement walls, and finally the ball of harsh rock that keeps hold of your heart. Nobody had ever seen that layer crack, nobody had seen the ocean the dam held back.

Nobody before tonight that is.

Trust had been betrayed.

The one you loved sat broken, maybe just as broken as you.

The moon's light filtered in through the glass panes of the penthouse windows. White light bounced off the marble and onto chandeliers, sending light shattering along the walls and floors. The open windows provided the howling wind room to whisper through. The rain outside pelted against the roof. A comforting sound to the silence. Your coat draped to the floor sticking to your skin. Not a single emotion played out on your face as you looked straight ahead. Waiting in the corridor stood the petit mafioso. Or as you called the feared Chuuya Nakahara, your dearest love. He hid his pain well, beneath the scowl that rested on his face.

The news had only reached you but it seemed he’d known for a while now. No words were exchanged between the two of you. His hands grabbed the name-brand leather he’d bought you. At 18, he was doing well, not too rich, but he had enough to provide luxury living for the two of you. He dragged the coat to the laundry room, it would probably be stained when it dried, but he didn’t care. His hands only wanted to pull you close.

He’d already had his drunken fest, but he didn’t know what you would be like tonight. Once it was confirmed and your optimistic hopes Dazai hadn’t defected were shattered, he didn’t know what you felt. He never did, and at times, it terrified him. This was one of those moments where it terrified him. Your silence killed him, but he had not the confidence to break the still silence. He pulled your chair for you, poured a glass of his most expensive wine, then took his seat next to you.

Their fingers glazed around the trim, their hands gloved in silk. A shuttered sigh escaped their lips as they began to shatter the silence. “Tonight, we celebrate,” they smiled, forced and cracking. Chuuya could only nod and raise his glass to meet theirs. When he looked at them his eyes fell bare into theirs.

He was shocked to find them full of emotions. Your glass was shaking within your hand. Before you could help it, glass met your lips. You swung your head back and downed the sweetly red delicacy. You placed it back on the counter before gasping for air. Holding everything in as best you could. Embarrassment flowed through your veins.

As a child, you had been taught the harsh realities of the world. Emotions were easily taken advantage of. Kindness did not exist, at least not without coming back with a price. There may be one or two people who will never expect anything in return but it’s against human nature.

Everybody has a point that they can’t get past. This was yours. You had opened up the gates to the real you. The masks had fallen one by one until you felt like yourself. Around the two males, you were happy for once. You felt safe and protected. You were never vulnerable in their eyes. Yet, Dazai had destroyed all of that. There was only Chuuya now. “I’m sorry, I look like an idiot. I'm so sorry, Chuuya. Just... I'll be right back.”

Attempting to stand up you were tugged back down onto the chair. Chuuya tugged you around. His hands moved to your face. His hands, ungloved, cupped your cheeks. His thumbs ran over your tears as a smile placed over his lips. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault anyway. That waste of bandages, and space, is to blame. The next time I see him… I'll hit him hard enough to send him into the death he wishes for.” You chuckled lightly with his words. Nobody had seen you like this before.

Chuuya stared at them, for a while he stood holding their face with confusion. His eyes reflected their emotions like silent water. He watched them lean into his touch, waiting for them to dip their head onto his chest. “It’s not fair, Chuuya. Why? Why did he leave as if we were all just nothing?” The roughness of their voice added bricks to his already heavy chest. He had no response or reason, there was only a soft sigh from his lips as he held them.

When the moon started to fall and the sun climbed into the sky your eyes finally dried. Chuuya didn’t move, his body holding you as he kept his chin on your head, “I love you.” He whispered the words running a hand over your back.

“I love you too.” It was a soft mumble from your lips, words spoken from the edge of sleep.

[solomonish]

Love is Just a Feeling I Do Not Need (Lucifer x Reader)

Even if this dream isn’t yours, just keep dreaming it.

based off of this song.

ao3 link: here!

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me It's not my act and it's driving me crazy That gaze you're giving me, that voice and that face I see Ah, don't you know? I hate them so-o-o

Though Lucifer was normally a fan of reliability and structure, this was a routine he wouldn’t mind going on without.

Every Thursday, sometime between the hours of 5 and 6 o’clock, you and Mammon would find yourselves shuffling nervously in front of his desk, shoulders hunched in anticipation for the verbal lashing you were about to receive. Most often than not, he’d direct his frustration towards Mammon, saving the gentler reprimands for you. It isn’t that he intended to go easy on you - if anything, he truly thought you could do with a little more firm punishment - but you normally got roped into Mammon’s schemes in the middle of trying to stop them. It was a noble, yet foolish, effort, and forcing yourself through the same vicious cycle seemed punishment enough for your naivety.

If ever there was a chance at levelling with you, Lucifer would hope you’d agree that receiving such a punishment was him was a blessing in disguise. He never lacked in the discipline department, but compared to the types of demons out there that weren’t bound by honor or loyalty and would love to take a bite out of you, his lectures were hardly anything to complain about. Though you’d furrow your brows or glower at him every now and then, it was your sweetness that got you into your messes and it was what allowed those transgressions to pass. He could tell that, as burdensome as you clearly thought he was in these moments, you never intended to interrupt his work or irk him beyond repair.

However, even the sweetest of fruits could rot if left on the table for long enough, and you were no different.

Lucifer had hoped that you might be a good influence on Mammon, or at least teach him a little bit of responsibility, but it seemed the influencing was happening the other way around. You got braver with your challenging looks and quips of defiance, only pushing the boundaries further the longer you were in the devildom. Perhaps, in his effort to allow you to ruminate on your actions yourself, he had spoiled you, for you were certainly acting far out of the bounds of what was appropriate for your situation. Not only did you seem to find your consistent troublemaking a persistent problem that needed fixing, but you also thought that, in a house filled with some of the most powerful demons in the realm, you found it a wise decision to directly challenge him, the oldest, the one most capable of hurting you. Lucifer wasn’t known for his tendency to hold back his anger or his punishments, and exchange students didn’t exactly have the privilege of diplomatic immunity.

Even worse, when he told you as much, all you had to say for yourself was, "You know, you don't have to put on this authoritative act for every little thing just to earn my respect."

Even worse for you, you had a lopsided smile that you couldn't repress, one full of arrogance and challenging him directly. He clenched tighter onto his desk, not quite sending spindling fractures through the wood but hearing it creak in protest all the same. Almost immediately, that cocky grin slipped off your face and you murmured an apology, lowering your head in submission in the hopes he would only continue his lecture and not add on to the punishment.

If the work slotted into his day had been any less, he would have come up with some sort of punishment for you. Your sudden cowardice was not enough to force his pride to keel. But his workload was already too immense to be dealing with a human’s daring - stupid - display of defiance, so he waved you off shortly after and stewed over his reports.

Lucifer didn’t miss the way you practically scurried out of his office, nor could he block out the harsh whispers outside his door as Mammon fussed over you. For a brief moment, he figured that he should call you back, give you a fitting punishment for your continued antics and save the future version of himself from these headaches. However, he knew that it’d only breed harsher animosity within you, and you would only work harder to annoy him. At the mere thought, his headache returned, and he focused on the paper on the desk in his attempt to block out the pain.

Whether it was due to your tendency to attract danger or his own tendency to micromanage once given a job (and dedicated to his task to assist in the exchange program he was), Lucifer found himself keeping an eye on you whenever he could. Oftentimes, he was out of your range, working in his office or assisting Diavolo wherever he may be in the expansive school. Even during class, when he wasn’t pulled aside to help Diavolo, he was in some of the most advanced classes in the school, all far above your level as a human thrown into an unfamiliar realm. That was one of the reasons he assigned you as Mammon’s responsibility - even though he did know, deep down, that his brother would rise to the occasion, he was also the only brother in a few of the lower level classes you had. That was a thought he didn’t dare linger on for too long, lest he feel another flare of anger build up.

Still, there were moments when he passed you in the hall, or beckoned you to follow him into his office to smooth over some administrative details regarding your exchange student status in the Devildom. Each time you turned your back, he found himself watching you leave, as if his gaze alone was enough to send you safely on your own. Nobody caught him staring - and if they did, they had the wisdom to pretend they didn’t. Yet you were human in every aspect of the word, tactless, weak and unwise, and when you caught his gaze - which he hated to admit had happened, and hated even more to count exactly how many times it happened - you smiled at him kindly. Those times, you weren’t planning anything or hoping to annoy him. You were merely treating him like a friend, giving him a silent greeting when you knew he wouldn’t make his way over to you to meet you properly.

Treating him like a friend...treating him with as much familiarity as you did his brothers? The thought insulted him. If you weren’t afraid of him, he would have to amend that quickly. Until he could see the respect in your gaze, and until he could be certain you feared him how he wanted you to, he loathed that stupid grin on your face as much it made his stomach churn.

It isn't fate or a miracle that brought us here Expecting nothing, it all remains so unclear Since I don't mind if you aren't really the best I'm sure that we'll be fine Come and hold me tight

Weeks and months did nothing to quell your troublesome nature. If anything, the more familiar you found yourself with your surroundings, the more you tried to bend the rules until they broke. Lucifer was aware of all of your antics - at least, he certainly hoped there weren’t any he was missing, because then he’d wonder if your feeble human body could handle all of that activity. Still, Lucifer was a man who knew how to pick his battles, no matter what his behavior with his brothers may say. More often than not, he warned against the stupid ideas he could see brewing in your mind, figuring that if there was no stopping you he could at least instill you with the proper sense of caution.

If he sat too long on the thought of how much trouble you really did cause, the only thought in his mind screamed the audacity! What kind of entitlement did you think you had? How could one human decide this realm was theirs to meddle with?

It was infuriating how much you managed to get wrapped up in, despite your inexperience. Perhaps it was that inexperience that had you scrambling about the Devildom like a new, untrained puppy that insisted on chewing everybody’s shoes? (This is why Lucifer never allowed pets, he realized. If his brothers couldn’t control a creature they could communicate with, how could they control an animal?) Maybe you assumed that being under the care of the seven demon lords meant you had some sort of immunity to the consequences of your antics. But being under their care did not mean they cared for you, and it was time that you realized just how lucky it was that you managed to survive this long.

Brash as it may sound, you weren’t anything special. At best, you were extraordinarily lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you enjoyed the exchange program); one human chosen out of billions. You had no standing here, not one of chosen status, no power or understanding of the magic that ruled the world around them.

It did work in your favor, if only a little bit. At least this way, Lucifer had no expectations of you coming in, so your disruptive behavior was no more disappointing than was to be expected. He had no image of you in his mind, nothing for you to contradict. It’s not as if you really cared what he thought, but it sure saved him the bother of reconciling his mental image with the unfortunate reality you were. Of course, that also meant that he didn’t always know what kind of trouble you were about to stir up, just that you would definitely stir up some trouble.

It isn’t until he hears a loud crash and your voice among the startled yelps that he realizes how much time he took from his reports to reflect on you.

Or rather….on your behavior.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

Yes, this was the best solution.

He noticed the way your shoulder tensed when you heard his footsteps. Have you learned the sound of his footsteps already? How cute.

You were sitting at a table in the library with Satan standing not too far away. Lucifer remembered Mammon begging someone to be your escort home so he could take care of some business with the witches, and after some arguing and a firm interruption by yours truly, Satan was tasked with bringing you home safely. Of course, he had to stop in the school library first - some human wasn’t going to force him to change his plans. You had the wisdom to take out an assignment to work on, clearly one of the easier ones that wouldn’t be too disturbed if you stopped in the middle when Satan was prepared to leave.

Lucifer didn’t plan on stopping in the library, but Diavolo was stuck in a separate meeting and he happened to be walking by, so why shouldn’t he check on the human in his charge?

He approached you with quiet, even steps, enjoying the way you went stiff as soon as he was near enough to start speaking to you. You looked to be expecting that, though, and he just couldn’t have that. No, instead he stepped directly behind your chair, placing one hand on the back of it so his gloved knuckles barely brushed against your shoulder. Bending at the waist, he leaned down so his chin almost touched your other shoulder, his breath ghosting your ear as he peered down at the paper in front of you.

“I see you’re taking your duties here in the Devildom seriously for once,” He started, his voice almost a deep purr. “Diavolo will be pleased to hear this report.”

You were fighting a shiver at the sound of his voice alone. He knew that you knew that he could feel the way you held back your shiver. That probably pleased him more than if you had actually done it.

“U-uh, yeah,” You stammered, fiddling with your pencil. “I’m just...trying to get some work done.”

He hummed, looking over your answers and taking his sweet time doing so. The longer he remained leaning by your side, the more he could hear your breath shallowing. Even if he was in charge of your safety, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still have a little bit of fun with the human that had a penchant for having too much fun with him.

Before you could swat him away, he quickly straightened himself out and patted your shoulder. Satan had returned by that point, just rounding the corner of a bookshelf and narrowing his eyes the moment he saw Lucifer. A second later, his eyes drifted down to you and he furrowed his eyebrows - clearly, Lucifer had affected you much more than he could see, and the thought made him preen himself on the inside.

“I trust you’ll keep up the good work. Keep an eye on them, Satan.”

His cold demeanor was back, and neither of you had anything to say about it. How joyful things turned out to be.

Much to your chagrin, Lucifer was a fast learner, and he took to flustering you just enough to keep you sedated when he felt you’d cause trouble. At first, all it took was a little invasion of your personal space, a targeted breath or a pat on the shoulder, all things you could easily brush off as just him trying to communicate a point the way humans do. After a while, you built up a feeble tolerance that he could send toppling down again by switching those pats to gentle strokes. He might be getting friendly with you, but you never made any attempt to push him away.

He didn’t have any ulterior motives. He could justify himself by saying this was the only way to keep you under control. Lucifer may not have been the avatar of lust, but he was never one to be shown up by his brothers. Seduction was an art form he had mastered long ago, and even if he wasn’t purposely intending to bed you, he was a maestro at using his skills to affect you. Besides, the faces you made and the way you flustered yourself when he was even in the same room as you was enough to encourage him to keep going.

It didn’t matter that, after a while, Mammon had convinced you to get back into his schemes. It didn’t matter that when Lucifer asked you sly questions about finishing your work, you had some response about needing to have time to make his life even harder.

There was no harm in trying to keep you charmed, was there? Not when you seemed to be enjoying it so.

It's no use to just regret all night long So instead of mourning why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, can't you see? Love me till I hurt oh baby, come dance the night away with me

This was a song and dance the two of you learned the steps to quickly, one that went on for much longer than it had any right to. This was a fact you realized when it, quite literally, culminated in a dance.

Lucifer considered himself a master of tact, figuring that he could settle your tomfoolery once and for all with a rather serious talking to. Maybe, since this time you conversation would happen in public with the prince as a witness, you might listen and take some of his words to heart. Or, in the worst case scenario, at least he could be sure to keep your attention for long enough to get a meaningful message across.

Getting you alone was easy enough. Though you were surrounded by some of his brothers, it seemed Mammon was the only other one interested in separating you from the group and was stumbling over himself in his efforts to make it happen. Besides, even with the way you disregarded every warning he gave you, at least you learned that Lucifer only ever asks as a formality. So, he found himself leading you by the hand to the middle of the floor, placing a hand on your waist as casually as one can and mimicking the way the others moved around you.

“What is it you’re plotting with Asmo?” In order to keep the conversation between the two of you, he leaned down slightly to mutter in your ear - not close enough to raise any suspicions, but close enough that you could certainly feel just how much he had you in his grasp. Moments ago, he had already made you aware of his intentions, so the shocked expression on your face really had no right to be there. Still, he couldn’t say he didn’t find a sort of pleasure in the way he could practically hear your blood rush through your veins as you tried to keep up your facade of control. Unfortunately for the both of you, you were as easy to see through as you were frustrating.

“Let me make one thing clear,” He practically hissed, enjoying the way you shivered. “I respect my brothers’ freedom to do as they wish. However, if I ever sense that you’ve become a threat to Diavolo or us, then I will show you absolutely no mercy. Understood?”

Lucifer made sure to snake his arm around your back, holding you against him and gripping your hand with as much strength as he could without truly hurting you. He had effectively caged you in, making sure that you knew there was no escape from the way he knew things needed to be done. And you really needed to stop poking your nose into their business.

“I-I want to be good friends with all of you, Lucifer,” You answered, giving a pathetic tug to the hand in his grasp. Without responding, Lucifer narrowed his eyes at you and relaxed his grip slightly. Somehow, you proved yourself to be a bigger fool than he originally thought.

“Well, that is not what I want.”

He watched your face fall at that, and there was the strangest coil in his stomach at that reaction. What, had you genuinely thought you could just waltz into the Devildom and call the Demon Lords your pals? What would you even have to gain from that?

Before he could admonish you further, Solomon appeared from the crowd, offering you a smile that was so casual it could only be practiced. For just a moment, his eyes flickered to your waist, where Lucifer’s grip was still strong - Lucifer didn’t dare loosen up, lest Solomon think he had any shame in being “caught.”

When Solomon asked to steal you away, Lucifer obliged, sending you off with what could only be described as a warning glance. You seemed relieved to be in the hold of somebody else, and Lucifer couldn’t blame you. At least you seemed to have some common sense about you. Still, he couldn’t deny the way the coil in his stomach only got tighter.

He figured it was just a result of both human exchange students being massive headaches and did his best to brush it away.

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me You're in my world now, away from reality As long as I can toy with you for just a moment Then I don't mind, if you aren't really mine

Perhaps Lucifer was a fool for thinking if he left you alone you wouldn’t fester.

You had managed to be so, so much worse than he ever expected you to be. It wasn’t enough to simply meddle in the affairs of the brothers so readily available to you - no, five demons were not enough to sate your endless need for trouble. So, in the few months you had been in the Devildom, you decided to somehow find the one brother he needed to keep hidden from you and, in the process of going against explicit orders, set Belphegor free and get yourself killed. For a moment, seeing your lifeless body in Mammon’s arms, Lucifer wasn’t sure what had thrown him off: seeing his brother free and knowing the punishment that was charging towards him fast enough that he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop it, or the mountain of paperwork that would surely come from this turn of events. Mammon’s desperate denial echoing through the entrance of their manor wasn’t exactly helping, either.

But then you did the only thing you did better than causing endless migraine for Lucifer: you fixed your mistakes and started building something better from them.

After you revealed yourself and let the brothers know that you were still alive - while also somehow airing everybody’s dirty laundry at once, something he made a note to talk to you about - he watched as somehow, slowly, his brothers looked at each other with the same appreciation they used to in the Celestial Realm, lurking just beneath the surface. Sure, there was still plenty of progress to be made, but he finally saw a fracture in the insurmountable mountain he had been facing for thousands of years - and it was all because of you.

With the churning feeling the thought brought him, he started to understand how love and hate were thought of as two sides of the same coin.

Leviathan could be found peeking out of his room slightly more often, gravitating to the room you were in with a handheld device and offering to show you what he was playing. Satan took his books out, too, sitting in the same room as you and occasionally casting what he thought were sneaky glances your way. Asmodeus insisted on spending more time with you in his own way, trying to hide the way he held your face in his hands a little longer than necessary by saying he was assessing the state of your skin. Beel seemed more open around you, occasionally dropping snacks in your lap without needing to be asked, giving you a look that seemed to both ask if you were alright and assure you that he was when you met eyes. Even Belphegor had warmed up to you, trying to sandwich himself in between you and anybody close to you or pulling you away to quieter spaces where he could nap in your presence. Lucifer watched as the unease gradually melted away from your expression with each attempt he made to get you alone, until you seemed to feel safe with him.

As usual, Mammon stayed by your side, especially in the days after your...incident. There were many times when you would sit on a couch in the common room, only for Mammon to come flying in moments later and sit so close to you he was practically on your lap. Lucifer bit his warnings for him to be careful back at least half of the time, deciding that this puppy-dog behavior at least seemed to be keeping the two of you out of trouble.

Trouble…

It only took your untimely death and a harsh reminder of just how close you had managed to get to his brothers to force him into realizing that trouble was all he ever thought you of. Lucifer couldn’t quite decipher why that left such a sour taste in his mouth. Perhaps it was the fact that since the incident with Belphegor, he had barely seen you. Honestly, he only saw you a fraction of the day compared to the amount of times he needed to usher you into his office to set you straight beforehand. As embarrassed as he was to be suffering through such...withdrawal, a long day of stress from his brothers had him summoning for you before dinner.

You only opened the door enough to squeeze yourself through, sneaking in as if he were a sleeping lion you shouldn’t dare to wake. He watched as you slowly made your way in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers the way you did when you were nervous. Strange. As far as he knew, you hadn’t done anything wrong. He hoped that if you did, you had the wisdom to keep your mouth shut.

“You wanted to see me?” You asked in a small voice. Lucifer held you in a steady gaze, glad that Mammon decided not to follow you this time. He’d have known how much of an act this was from the get go and scold him for ‘making the move on his human.’

“Yes.” Lucifer took his sweet time shuffling through the papers on his desk, watching you through his peripheral vision. He could feel your stress levels rising as you waited for an unknown blow, watching as you subconsciously fidgeted the longer he let the silence go on. When he decided that he had teased you enough, he leaned back in his chair and said, “I merely wanted to see how our exchange student was doing.”

“H-huh?!” You asked. Indignation flashed on your face in the most wonderful display before quickly being taken over by your practiced calm facade. “O-oh, I’m fine, thanks.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”

“Well….yeah. I’m good.”

Clearly, you weren’t one for conversation right now. With a sigh, he leaned back and thumbed through the papers on his desk again before pulling one out of the stack and placing it in front of him. Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached in his drawer and pulled out a small stack held together with a paperclip and dropped that one on top of the single sheet, holding back a smirk at the way you flinched.

“Good. Then I suppose we can get started on this paperwork about the whole accident.”

“What?!”

“Well, we still have to file an accidental death report. Or perhaps we should fill out an injury notice…? Ah, nevermind. It seems you’re up for both.”

He allowed you to turn on your heel and leave without another word. After staring at the now-empty space for a moment, he put the stack of absentee notices back in his drawer and continued on with his work.

It isn't jealousy or hate that made me act like that I'm not like her, so there's no need to get mad I know my way around this heat that we feel So don't worry, just enjoy Don't give me that look, boy!

You ran your hand down the side of your face, trying in futility to wipe the sleepiness from your mind. Sitting in the dimly lit office, you listened as Lucifer droned on about your test grade. The lecture had turned into a study session, which you appreciated, but it quickly turned back into a lecture after one too many mistakes on your part. You could see the irritation clear on his face, yet he was speaking to you as if you had just been caught plotting something treasonous against Diavolo.

You tried to huff quietly, but Lucifer’s sharp ears heard you. The stony glare he held you in woke you up instantly. “Oh, is this too boring? Perhaps that explains your performance.”

Already having been caught, you sighed. “No, Mammon has just been keeping me up lately.” It was too late in the night to think about how you accidentally ratted him out.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed so you could only see the red seemingly glowing with the rage he was hardly holding back. Stopping the pacing he had taken up an hour ago, he turned towards you and took long strides to stand in front of the desk until he was beside his chair. You kept your sleepy gaze locked on his eyes, a silent challenge for him to back down. What would he do to the precious, fragile little human while they’re half asleep?

With a sigh, Lucifer closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his own way of breaking the stare-off without really admitting defeat. “I should have known he had something to do with this.”

“Hey…” If Lucifer ended up punishing Mammon for your own slip-up with your grades, you’d be feeling guilty about it for weeks. “It wasn’t really his fault. I should know by now how much studying I need to do…”

“Hmph. Since this leads back to him, I suppose I have no choice. The two of you are banned from seeing each other until I can come up with a fitting punishment and study regimen to set you both straight.”

“What?” You stood up from your chair, not changing how he literally looked down on you but feeling as if you looked more imposing. “You can’t just do that!”

“I will do what I must to keep you on track, as is my responsibility.”

“You cannot forbid me from talking to your brothers. Besides, isn’t he supposed to be my guardian?”

“You have more pacts, should the need arise. If he insists on hoarding your time as he has, then-”

“Oh, is that what this is about? I didn’t expect you to be so jealous about it.” You scoffed. “Now you’re really being a Mammon.”

“Do not compare me to him in that way ever again!” He barked at you, slamming a hand down on the desk with a loud bang! That shut you up quickly, and you watched Lucifer warily in case he lost control of himself. For a brief moment, the human glamour surrounding him faded and you saw a flicker of his wings, feathers splayed out and bristled in his anger. “This study session has gotten away from us. You may turn in for the night.”

Despite his mighty anger, the time you spent with him and your inherent recklessness left you unable to cower. The longer you stayed in a stand-off, the more pointed your expression got until you were giving him the most doubtful expression he had ever seen on your face. “You know, I wouldn’t mind spending these nights with you if they didn’t always end with you yelling at me.”

As if on cue, the D.D.D. you left on the desk lit up, allowing Lucifer a glimpse of the many messages and calls left by none other than the second brother. Fighting back a grimace, he watched you snatch it up and collect your books in a hurry. Some of the papers crinkled as you shoved them into your bag, but he didn’t wince - he did play a part in your haste, after all.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who you were going to vent to in a few minutes. Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to care, though, not when he had the distinct feeling he had ruined his chances at a goal he wasn’t aware he was trying to meet.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't take it so untie it as much as you please Close your eyes and stop your breath if you dare Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

He hadn’t intentionally softened up on you, yet he found that he took those words to heart.

After the incident in his office, you told him that you thought you’d study better on your own and improved your grade with your next test. In the weeks leading up to it, Lucifer could hardly get you to stop for him, only seeing you at dinner and when he would text you about urgent transfer student business. Even after he got word of your improved marks, he still had trouble getting to you for long enough to offer a proper congratulations. You really did prove yourself to be a ton of effort time and time again.

It wasn’t until you started to seek him out that he was able to properly communicate with you again.

You found him in the kitchen when he had dinner duty, on a rare night when he didn’t need to bribe someone to pick it up for him. He could feel your presence even with his back turned, aware of the way you leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms. He finished chopping the ingredients on the cutting board in front of him before looking over his shoulder at you curiously.

“Need a hand?” You asked. Something in your voice was different - more confident. Lucifer could hear the challenge in it, even if the details still hadn’t made themselves known.

He gestured to the small pile of dishes in the sink, not about to turn your company away. You nodded and started to run the water, letting silence settle between you. Finding himself watching you for a few beats too long, Lucifer cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his chopped vegetables. He noticed that the second half were chopped a little more unevenly than the other pieces, and he quickly pushed them into the pan.

Clearly, you had taken a page from his book and decided to leave him in wait, biding your time before finally hitting him with your carefully chosen words. Unlike you normally were, he wasn’t on the edge of his seat, sweating in anticipation - but the longer the silence wore on, he found his patience wearing thin. Even if this performance of yours was amusing, he still found himself aggravated by just how far you thought you could push your luck.

Finally, you decided to speak up. “Have I been avoiding you these past few weeks?”

Lucifer didn’t let himself falter in stirring the pot on the stove. “I believe that’s a question only you know the answer to.”

“Hm. Well, I haven’t been meaning to.”

“Based on our last meeting, that much has been hard to tell.”

“Do you really think I’m so petty?” You turned the water on to rinse the bowl in your hands, forcing him to wait until responding.

“With so many strong personalities now bound to you in pacts, it’s hard to tell how their influence will manifest.”

You gave him a bitter laugh, shoving your hands in the water until your palms flattened out on the bottom of the sink. The warm water felt hotter on the skin on your forearms that hadn’t been able to build a tolerance to it. Even if your intent was not to start a petty argument, his intentions clearly didn’t align with yours.

“No, I think I have to solid a grasp on myself to let them do that to me.”

He said nothing, but you could hear his confident footsteps as he approached you. His gaze met yours in a silent challenge as he slid the cutting board in the water, unconsciously allowing himself to gravitate towards you. When he got too close for you, you grabbed a spatulat from the bottom of the sink and gently pressed the flat end against his chest to push him away. Lucifer glanced at his shirt, clearly miffed at the damp stripe across his chest.

“You know, Lucifer, if you want a pact with me, you just have to ask.”

For a moment, the expression on Lucifer’s face was too convoluted for you to make sense of. He certainly didn’t look caught off guard, but he also wasn’t as furious as you thought he’d be. With his eyebrows furrowed together and his gaze searching yours, you couldn’t figure out where his shock and confusion ended and his anger began. You cursed him and how he always seemed to have a grasp on what he let you know through his expressions alone.

Lucifer stood there, hoping that the confusion on your face wasn’t covering something else that would force you away from him. He couldn’t understand how you always managed to pierce through him and see directly into his mind. As he was coming to understand it, he did want a pact with you. Certainly not because he saw how close those brothers of his were to you now, though - he was not the avatar of envy, and he had nothing to be envious of, especially in regards to them - but the thought of his mark on your skin, the thought of you belonging to him in such a way was undeniably appealing.

However, every interaction with you didn’t seem to push him in the direction of ever obtaining such a relationship with you.

Quickly gathering his wits, he only scoffed and went back to his post on the other side of the kitchen. You turned towards your job, too. This time, he wasn’t the only one ruminating in stubborn silence.

I don't feel no guilt, oh, is that so wrong? Ah, instead of asking why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, now you see Love me till I hurt oh baby, come over here and set me free

Asmodeus: You won’t believe what I just found out about the succubus I was telling you about yesterday! Satan: Have you gotten to the seventeenth chapter yet? It really is the turning point, in my opinion. Leviathan: ok thx Lucifer, YOU S*CK!: Heh, yeah, that’ll be perfect. Mammon: Oi, are you even paying attention to me?!?

With a sigh, you turned your D.D.D. off without responding to the messages and tucked it back in your bag.You were already on your way to the House of Lamentation. The brothers could (and would) bother you the moment you walked through the door.

“I’ve sighed like that many times,” Lucifer said beside you, looking down at you with a polite half smile. “My brothers are hounding you again, no doubt.”

“Yeah...they’re quite...affectionate.”

“That is a word you could use,” He agreed. “Though sometimes, not the most accurate.”

You chuckled them, purposely averting your gaze. Part of Lucifer wanted to direct your attention back to him so he could watch the pretty blush that painted your cheeks as you laughed, but he kept his hands to his sides. It was so difficult anymore to know what you were thinking. The closer he got to you, the more he learned to find comfort in your presence, the more he found the pesky feeling of hope cloud his judgement and his crystal-clear vision. How could he be sure that, now that the two of you were finally on good terms, you weren’t comfortable with the relationship? It had been so long since Lucifer had to forge an entirely new relationship, and he had the world’s most troublesome (or second most troublesome, considering your competition) human to work with. Though he was never one to question his own judgement, he still couldn’t help but tsk at the sheer absurdity of the task.

“This is probably the most peaceful walk home I’ve had in a while. It’s astonishing how easy they make getting caught up in trouble on the way seem.”

“Is that why the other day you seemed so shocked when we told you the walk was only a few minutes?”

You chuckled again. “Yeah. All the detours make it seem longer.”

“Perhaps one of these days, I should take you on a detour of my own then?” When you stopped walking, he turned back to give you a sly smile. “I’m not one to be bested by my brothers, you know.”

“Wow, ruthless,” You began walking again and fiddled with your backpack strap nervously. “Maybe I should be the one to plan it, though. I’m not entirely convinced your version of a detour wouldn’t involve more paperwork.”

“Shall I be looking forward to this date, then?” Lucifer could feel the embarrassment radiating off of you. He loved to make you this flustered, so he could realign his sights while you were too preoccupied to hide behind anything. And you just so happened to be unbearably cute with your face turning red. The way you muttered ‘yes’ and dashed up the steps to the house had him preening.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours just keep dreaming it

Bit by bit, Lucifer found himself finally, finally getting closer to you without any unpleasant endings. (Well, save for the ones where one of his brothers interrupted and dragged you away, but the two of you shared a fondness for their shenanigans that made it difficult to stay mad at them.)

Or, well...staying mad at them was difficult for you/.

Lucifer wasn’t upset with his brothers, but there was a certain frustration bubbling up beneath the surface that he had to wrestle down every time he had a moment to wonder about their actions. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to spend time with you - after all, he himself was trying to make himself time in your schedule. Not only that, but the ever-approaching end of the semester was looming over them, and everyone could feel the desperate attempts to get one last bid for your affections in before you left. The whole situation was rather distracting, his far-wandering thoughts only adding to the time he spent hunched over his desk instead of out with you.

Lucifer was not a man to waste time bemoaning facts that he could not change. That did not mean he was immune from all feelings of doubt or irritation. He might have been able to concentrate if there wasn’t such a pesky thought creeping up on him the second he let his mind stray from his papers. Still, he couldn’t help the ugly sensation of being caught in a competition where he might actually be losing.

Though he had faith in your tenacity - that and your boldness were truly qualities to marvel at - Lucifer did wonder just how much you valued availability. He thought that the two of you had come to a silent agreement - that you thought alike, that you felt alike - but as much as he knew what happened beyond the door to his office, you remained the enigma.

It would be so easy if he could just get you to admit that he was the one you thought of above all the others. The desire for such a simple statement, he hid with faux aggravation at your refusal to admit such a simple task. As much as he tried to convince himself that you were hanging out with the others as a replacement for him, he knew just how much and how uniquely you valued the others.

He didn’t need to use force to get what he wanted, but he was slightly accustomed to nothing standing strong in the presence of his power. You, however, never bowed, and it grated at him how much he wanted to rightfully earn that place in your heart and how difficult it was to just get you to say it.

His thoughts distracted him from his papers, his papers distracted him from his thoughts. They all distracted him from you, aside from when he wondered if you were thinking something similar about him.

Are you really asking why you're alone? Turned your back on me and I get why you don't want more Come back, hold me, dear, love me till I scream

Your departure was approaching, and Lucifer found himself alone.

His moments not spent on work or cleaning up after his brothers were normally spent with you. Unless, of course, those moments happened in the early hours of the morning and he should be dead on his pillow.

Perhaps if he found himself graced with your presence, he wouldn’t have slept anyway. It wasn’t sleep he was chasing, after all, but you. You were the one he was vying for, even if his pursuit felt less romantic and more like running after a wild goose. No good things came easy, he told himself. He didn’t need easy.

But your longing glances were getting harder to pull away from, and the days until you left were already in the single digits. It was hard enough to steal you away for a moment, let alone enough time to lay his intentions bare and finally get what you both wanted.

He hated the thought that he had let you take the lead in the relationship in a roundabout sense, so he preoccupied himself with anger over having to do all the hard work himself.

He could list off all the reasons you would return to him, the obvious choice, for hours if asked, and even then only put a dent in the miles of options. The fact that he even considered justifying himself to anyone felt foreign, but he let his mind settle on the thought anyway. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed how you didn’t try to leave the sides of his other brothers, how nobody bothered to knock on his door anymore, too preoccupied with you. He missed you already, and he hadn’t even seen you off yet.

Lucifer knew that you’d come to him eventually. He didn’t doubt you, and he certainly didn’t doubt himself. But you had a habit of making him wait and wonder.

He was just about tired of waiting, he was tired of wondering, and he didn’t know if he could take another dream that only left him more confused than he was when he fell asleep.

Don't you ever wake up baby, keep on dreaming our dream

[obeymefictionwriting]

Okay, for a request how about MC walking into the HOL after having been out with Solomon and asking "HOW'S THE CUTEST (or "my favorite") BOY IN ALL OF DEVILDOM!? ❤💕" and the brothers (individually or all at once, I leave that up to u) go to answer but MC laughs awkwardly as Luke runs and jumps into their arms, and MC explains they were talking to Luke, who had been waiting for MC in their room and came out to receive them the moment he heard the front door open? MC tries to make a save for the brothers to feel better by going "but you are also the cutest/my favorite boy in Devildom!" Could I maybe get their reactions to that? I hope it's not worded confusingly, I've loved all your HC's and can't wait to see more! ♡

Haha okay! Sounds like a bucket of cold water for some of them :D

Lucifer

Wait, what did you just say? THE. CUTEST. BOY?

Now, if you are using the superlative form, you must be talking about him because he is the first-born eldest brother, right?

But THE CUTEST BOY??

Opens his mouth to give you a quick speech on how it’s not very appropriate though acceptable but then sees you and Luke hugging.

“I see.”

Oh no, “also” won’t work here. It’s either the cutest or not. No second places.

Can’t help but secretly smiles when seeing Luke being so happy. The angel is cute - even though he is a Chihuahua. 

When passing by, whispers that you two will talk about the REAL cutest boy later.

Mammon

Lights up IMMEDIATELY when hears you asking the question.

“Hey don’t call me that!” but blushes because heck, you think he is cute!

Shuts up when sees Luke rushing to you.

“What did Chihuahua forget here?”

Slowly realizes you were referring to Luke.

“Do you even have eyes?! You call this Chihuahua CUTE??”

Tries to interfere because Luke hugs you and he doesn’t it. Is stopped by Satan and Lucifer.

Greedily watches you two and tries suggesting the “no angels” rule for the HOL. 

Is happy to hear he is also the cutest boy but later decides that it’s not enough.

Leviathan

Is sure that you are not referring to him as the cutest boy but secretly wishes you did.

Is a bit disappointed to see Luke. It could have been Simeon at least.

Decides that angels = normies.

Is J E A L O U S

He also wants to hug you like that but why would you choose a shut-in otaku instead of a cheerful angel?

Doesn’t buy the “also” thing. It’s either the number one or nothing (similar to Lucifer tbh).

Goes to his room and does some serious thinking. Why would you prefer Luke over him or his brothers? 

Decides to forget about it (”normies are impossible to understand”) and play some games instead.

Satan

Is about to smile nicely when sees what’s it all about.

Oh.

Well, he did not expect you to declare your sympathy towards him in front of everybody but still he was hoping it would be him.

Has been called “the cutest” by numerous people but he wanted to hear YOU say it.

Has zero problems with you hugging Luke. He knows too well what you mean by “the cutest” and what you mean by “the most favorite”. There is a difference obviously.

He actually agrees that Luke is the cutest boy - at least, it’s not Mammon.

Wants to take you to the library later and ask you about your preferences in a more intimate surrounding.

Grins when thinking about it.

Asmodeus

Oh, how dare you!

Reacts like that only for an act because he is too confident to worry about such things.

“He is indeed the cutest little boy here!”

Pats Luke on the head.

Kisses you on the cheek and loudly asks who is the most beautiful demon.

Laughs at Luke’s reaction.

Winks at Lucifer frowning.

“We will discuss later, my dear”.

Beelzebub

When he hears your question, he gets confused at first.

Maybe you are talking about him? He secretly hopes you do.

Oh, you were talking about Luke.

Well-deserved, Luke.

He is actually happy because you are smiling so nicely and you seem to be happy around your friend.

Wants to join but is a bit embarrassed to ask about that.

Decides to come to you later and ask if you don’t mind him hanging with you two.

Belphegor

Smiles as he hears you asking the question. Of course, you are talking about him.

is about to go back to napping when he hears loud sounds.

Opens his eyes to see you hugging Luke? Really?

No, really?

Too. much. noise

Wake me up when the angel is out.

Sends a text to your D.D.D saying he has an “urgent matter” to discuss.

Smiles in an evil manner and closes his eyes.

Knows you’ll come soon. Because he is the cutest boy in the Devildom.

#obeyme #obey me! shall we date #funny obey me #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #leviathan obey me #satan obey me #asmodeus obey me #beelzebub obey me #belphegor obey me #luke obey me

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

18. Skeleton

Buddy and Sammy find the “goldfish room” as the latter calls it, AKA the closet where Joey keeps his skeletons, literally. And in the process, Buddy learns about a few of the skeletons in Sammy’s metaphorical closet. (Set during ink hell, pre loop, post Buddy befriending the lost ones/searchers.)

The Prophet was a strange ally.

It was weird to work alongside someone who worships the guy who tore you in half and is the biggest reason why you’re stuck in a nightmarish, inescapable studio, especially when it wasn’t the nicest or friendliest person before getting claimed by the ink. (Although, as he thought back on it, had he ever met Sammy before it was claimed by the Ink?)

But ANY ally was better than an enemy, especially when that ally knows the studio better than anyone else down here. Besides, it seemed like the Ink man was either unaware of their past or didn’t even know who they used to be, and even if it did, it wasn’t angry about their past issues.

At the same time, working on scavenging trips with the former musician was a nightmare; it was way too tranquil about the situation, and there were too many weird murderous monsters that the wolf and gofer were aware of.

“I do not need to run, little wolf. I can evade these creatures without issue through my Lord’s gift.” The Prophet calmly stated as Buddy gestured confusion about why it didn’t run when the pair heard something that sounded suspiciously like the projectionist’s screams. “Besides, running through these halls is risky, I would be heard by those… more unsavory denizens of this studio and get ambushed by them.”

He wished his typewriter was quieter in instances like this, being able to type out ‘But what if you get caught by your lord?’ and other messages to hand to him without risking alerting the Ink Demon would be great. Or just having his voice back in general.

“If my Lord decides to send me back to the puddles, then it is his right to do so to prove I have changed.” He answered the unspoken question. “But it does mean that I have to work harder to get him to notice how much I have improved, get him to notice me…” 

‘Please don’t read my mind unless I give you the “go for it” gesture. It’s creepy otherwise.’

“My apologies, little wolf, while your thoughts come in quieter than everybody else’s… they’re still noticeable, especially when it’s just the two of us.”

Buddy hesitantly nodded and just tried to lead the Prophet out of the ransacked room to look for more stray supplies.

A few more hours of searching lead the pair to a locked room, something that experience told him meant that either it was another dead end or a hidden treasure trove of supplies, and not wanting to go back to the safe house empty handed, he was ready to roll those dice.

Buddy gestured for the Prophet to stand guard as he picked the door’s lock, and as the door slowly creaked open, he was thankful that he couldn’t speak because the scream that came out from his mouth would’ve been loud enough to alert every monster in the studio.

The former gofer felt sick to his stomach when he saw them. Piles upon piles of rotting, mangled, corpses. Human Corpses, not toony corpses like the other Borises or the butchered up members of the Butcher gang. Most of them were unrecognizable, partly because he had never seen most of these people in his life, and partly because they had decayed so much that what remained was hard to figure out who was who and what. The oldest corpses were nothing but skeletons and clothes, and the freshest one looked like…

...Like his own body.

“The goldfish room...” The prophet muttered loud enough for Buddy to hear, startling the poor pup out of his skin as he didn’t hear him enter behind him.

The wolf shuddered and continued to scour the room for anything worth the hassle of all of this. Boris wanted to take a few of the bones, which Buddy unenthusiastically obliged.

“Don’t eat those!” The Prophet interjected so loudly and harshly that it startled both the former gofer and the wolf toon. The ink creature’s anger was so much scarier with how rare it was to see now. “Especially not him! He’s my-” The Prophet stopped itself by covering its ‘mouth’ with its hands as if it was about to reveal a big secret and just took the skeletal arm out of Buddy’s hands and put it back where he found it. Its voice went back to it’s normal calm tone that reminded him of someone who was on the verge of falling asleep, but Buddy heard somberness in the musician’s pitch. “...they’re unclean...”

‘Prophet?’ Buddy gave him the “go ahead, read my mind” gesture. ‘Prophet, what is this place? Who are these people?’

“...You’ve seen your own corpse among them, correct?”

Buddy nodded.

“I know you’ve met Joey, but tell me; ...Has he ever called you ‘Henry’ before?”

‘Yes he has, but what does that have to do with…’ he gestured at the bodies on the floor ‘this?!’

“Henry’s been gone for a long time now.” The prophet stated, but there was a hint of recollection in his tone that weakened the calmness, and the more he talked, the more broken (for lack of a better term) his voice became. “Do you think that you were Joey’s first replacement goldfish? That after Henry left the studio, you were Joey’s only other other Henry?”

Buddy’s ears began ringing and he heard music; it was loud, distorted, fast-paced, and all over the place, the type of music that makes your heart pound out of your chest and makes your hackles stand up, the type of music that tells you to run, but doesn’t clue you in to where or why. The prophet’s body started to shake and tremble.

“The first Other-Henry was actually named Henry as well. And like his predecessor, was an excellent artist who really connected with the characters...”

‘Sammy? What’s going on? do you hear this too?!’

“But unlike Stein, Ross was a very stubborn person who refused to let anyone push him around, especially by either Joey or myself. Surprisingly, I liked that man, but he didn’t last long...”

Fear kept Buddy’s legs frozen to the ground as he covered his ears in a fruitless attempt to muffle the music, it felt like it was being played directly in his head, and then it clicked when the whispers started up, whispers in their tone, but not in volume, they were loud enough to drown out parts of what the Prophet was saying;

‘Sammy help us!’

“The next one was more like you, a younger, less experienced and more skittish person, his first name was ‘Lawrence’ so everyone called him ‘Larry’ to avoid confusion...”

‘Sammy, where are you?’

“...But he was also too nosy for that poor boy’s own good.”

‘you’re too weak!’

“The one after that was a scatterbrained fellow, very passionate about his work but didn’t focus very much on one topic or another...”

The Prophet’s monologue was completely drowned out by the music and chorus of desperate and angry “Other Henries” at this point. Buddy knew he was still talking because of the musician’s gestures, but didn’t hear a single word out of him. 

‘Saaaaaammyyyyyyy....’ ‘You’re such a spineless coward...’ ‘Sammy please save us..!’ ‘Why did you let Joey kill us?’ ‘The ink... it’s so cold...’ ‘No wonder Susie hates you so much...’ ‘Sammy, please! It hurts!’ ‘Why did you let us die?’ ‘Why won’t you help us?’ ‘You’re no better than Joey.’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘I thought you loved me...’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘You promised me that you’d always be there!’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘They were right about you...’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘Saaaaaammyyyyyyy....’

He knew that the lost ones, searchers and Prophet could hear each others’ thoughts, but didn’t understand what that was like until now that he was hearing Sammy’s thoughts. No wonder most of them were always so depressed and on edge...

‘Sammy?’ the gofer shook Sammy gently, only to hear his own voice join the chorus of other Henries as one of the ones who sounded like he was mad at him. ‘Sammy, snap out of it!’ he shook the Prophet harder, still not waking the Ink creature out of its trance. ‘SAMMY!’ Doing the first thing that came to mind out of desperation, Buddy slapped the mask clean off of it.

The music and voices died as if they were a candle light snuffed out by the wind.

For a few seconds that felt more like hours, Buddy and Sammy stared at each other in silence before Sammy put its mask back on as if nothing happened and led the toon wolf out of the goldfish room, took a key out of its pocket and locked it behind them.

-----

Back in the safe house, Buddy started up a pot of bacon soup, the stuff tasted a little bit better when it was hot while Sammy tuned the banjo in the dining area and Dot tried to stir up conversation.

“So... how did the supply run go?”

“Fine.”

Buddy involuntarily let out a snort as he took the soup off the stove and took out his typewriter.

[It was the scariest one we’ve ever done so far.

While looking around for stuff, we ended up in this place S The Prophet called ‘the Goldfish room’ and it was filled with dead bodies. HUMAN dead bodies. And mine was in the pile! I couldn’t tell if it was haunted or if it was just the prophet’s thoughts going]

“Little wolf, I do not wish to think about that room again...”

[Sorry.]

The wolf sheepishly put the typewriter to the side and poured the soup into bowls. As the toon and lost one ate, the prophet mostly just stared into his bowl as if he was watching something in it.

“...Before my enlightenment, I was not a good person.” The masked musician stated unprompted.

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t an evil person per say, and I wouldn’t go as far as to call the man I used to be a monster.” He sighed and adjusted his mask. “But I was certainly a bad person, an asshole, a coward who hid behind physical strength, and I had more vices than virtues.”

[Prophet, what are you talking about?]

“I’m trying to answer the questions I know you have before either of you two pester them out of me. Maybe when you’re sated my Lord will allow me to forget again.”

[Are you sure? you seemed really upset back ...there.]

“Well look at it this way, maybe getting it off your chest will help you feel better about it?”

“I suppose...” The prophet sighed again.

“So what does you being a crackhead before finding the Ink Demon Religion have to do with a room full of dead bodies?”

“Dorthy!”

“...I’ll just listen before asking anything else.”

“Thank you.” It readjusted its mask. “Now where was I...” it hummed to itself for a bit before speaking again, with venom slowly but surly pooling into its words. “I had more vices than virtues, and Joey could see all of both, using my virtues to his advantage, and using my vices against myself, he did everything he could to keep me from leaving him too, and it worked.”

The prophet took in a deep breath to stabilize itself.

“Every time I tried to leave, he did something else to make me stay; ‘I love you’s turned to gifts, gifts to false promises, false promises to threats, threats to blackmail, blackmail to going through with it, and when he felt me slipping through his fingers he turned to taking advantage of my addictions... That... monster was a parasite in all aspects except physically... And I didn’t even notice until I might as well have been a walking corpse as I was seeing others march to my fate, but I couldn’t even so much as squeak out a warning without Joey swooping in on his behalf. Some Henries, heads of the art department, didn’t need to be warned by me as they found out what would await them and fled. But Joey didn’t like that... When I tried to warn the ones who needed to be warned, it was easy for him to dismiss me as a loon, a drunk, and an addict, until eventually I just gave up. I couldn’t even save myself, let alone anyone else... let alone the other art departments...”

“...I just stopped trying to keep Joey from leading the sheep to the slaughter, maybe they’re right to be angry at me for being such a coward...”

It then turned to face the wolf and put its hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve asked yourself if you’ve ever met me before the Ink had claimed me, as for that, I don’t know, nor do I think it matters, Buddy. I was nothing but a shallow and beaten husk of myself long before I even had tasted the ink. Even if you met me before then, you only met a ghost, not a person.”

The three then stayed in silence for a while before the clicks of Buddy’s typewriter caught the other two’s attention.

[Well, if it helps you any I think you’re not as bad of a person as you tell yourself you used to be.]

“And I don’t need to hear everyone’s thoughts to know that you’ve really stepped up to the plate when it counted. I don’t think a coward would try to do have the stuff you’re doing now.”

“Thanks you two” The Prophet’s voice cracked with emotion. “That... that really means a lot to me.”

[stellarstarwarsimagines]

Lie For Me (Part III of V) (Part I) (Part II)

Pairing - Modern!Ben Solo x Reader

Summary - Something has changed in the relationship between you and Ben. No longer can you say that you hate him. You find yourself wanting to spend alone time with him, and you volunteer to drive out to his parents house out with him to check on Chewy. The question is, does he feel the same? 

Word Count - 5.7k

Warnings - None! 

Something had changed. There was no doubt about it. As soon as Ben walked in the door behind Poe for your movie night, it was different. Normally there’d be a rolling of eyes, a sarcastic comment about how happy you were to see each other that turned to fighting that turned to the two of you being kept in separate rooms until you had both calmed down enough to be in the same area as each other without bickering. 

This time there were smiles, but he seemed . . . weird. Well, weirder than normal. He was leaning to one side and his fingers were twitching as he handed over a bottle of wine to you. 

“Two bottles from you in a row, Solo. What did I do to deserve this one?” You asked, grinning up at him, and trying to put him at ease as you reached for his arm and tugged him inside. 

“You put up with my parents for two hours. I should’ve bought you a whole case.” Ben replied, but nevertheless eased up somewhat, his tense jaw loosening. 

But you shrugged your shoulders. While you didn’t think Ben’s parents were that bad, you also hadn’t been through the same things with them as Ben had, so you chose not to comment on that. “But I got to see your childhood bedroom, and pet your dog, so it was a win for me.” 

“Even though you missed the shrine to Satan?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

It was going to take some time to get used to him teasing you. “Yes, even if I’m disappointed about it.” You replied, letting out a laugh. Watching your friends get comfortable in your living room in their various positions, you glanced back over at Ben. “Wanna help me with the popcorn?” You asked. 

To your slight surprise he nodded, and followed you into the kitchen. 

While you started getting everyone’s favorite drinks together, you put him in charge of the popcorn. “You know, there is one other thing that I am disappointed about.” You told him. 

“What?” Ben asked, and you could hear the air of curiosity in his voice. 

Once you had the rest of the drinks, you turned around and pouted at him. “I didn’t get to see those baby pictures.” 

He rolled his eyes at you as he started opening bags of popcorn, “and you never will.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest, your pout turning into a bit of a smirk as a thought struck you. “I wonder if Leia could send them to me over text . . . or even email . . .” You pretended to ponder. 

Ben wasn’t buying it though. “You don’t have her phone number, or her email, so I think it’s safe to say that those two options are out for you.” 

“But you do . . .” You replied, taking a couple of steps closer to him. 

He watched you through narrowing eyes, and you knew that he was trying to figure out what game you were playing. “Yes . . .” He answered. 

Taking a chance, you lunged forward, grabbing his phone out of his front pocket and holding it up with a satisfied smile. “In here.” You looked down at the phone, turning your back to Ben for a brief moment and gasped when it turned on at once. “You don’t even have a lock on your phone?! Are you a psychopath?” You asked him in disbelief. 

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” he said, swiping for it, but you moved it out of his way so he couldn’t reach. “Give it back.” He said. 

“I will, as soon as I find Leia’s phone number.” You teased as you started to look for his contacts. “Oh my god, even your apps are in alphabetical order - oof!” You let out a gasp as Ben grabbed you from behind, wrapping his arm around you as he used his other to try and grab his phone. 

“Give it back,” he whispered in your ear in a low voice. 

You were startled, not only by how he had pulled you against his chest with no effort, but by the way that your heart reacted to it. It was pounding so hard it hurt. The two of you hadn’t been this close since you danced together a few weeks earlier, and you had forgotten how . . . nice it was to be so engulfed by him. 

Swallowing, you shook your head, trying not to let how much his embrace was affecting you show. “Make me, Solo.” You snapped back, holding the phone out of arm’s reach, a smirk on your lips, as you glanced over your shoulder at him. 

There was something strange in his expression, almost a challenge as he answered your smirk with one of his own. “You know I can.” Ben replied, and instead of doing what you expected, which was reaching out with his much larger arms and grabbing the phone, he began tickling your side with the arm around you. 

Letting out a screech you began swatting at his hand. How the hell did he know you were ticklish?! He was unrelenting as his fingers brushed up and down your sides from the bottom of your armpits to your hips. You tried to keep the phone out of his reach, but you couldn’t help it as you burst into laughter. He grabbed the phone and shoved it in his back pocket. “That wasn’t fair!” You complained, breathless as he let up on the tickling. 

You didn’t have to see his face to know that he was smiling, but you looked anyway. You glanced over your shoulder to see a cute smile you had never seen on his face. It was a happy smile, a smile that you had caught glimpses of, but never seen in full. It was so contagious, you couldn’t help but smile back. “I know.” He said, and for a split second, you thought he might have leaned even closer to you. 

And you found yourself wanting him too. 

“Is everything okay in here?” The both of you looked up to find Poe in the doorway, looking at the both of you with curious eyes. 

Ben stepped away from you, and you felt heat rushing up to your face at the position that your friend had found the two of you in. “Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?” You answered, maybe a little too quickly. 

Poe’s eyebrow raised as he looked between the two of you. You wondered what he saw on Ben’s face when he did, because you were too scared to look. “We heard screaming. Wanted to make sure the two of you weren’t going at it again.” 

“We’re fine,” but from the tenseness in Ben’s voice, it was clear that the two of you had been up to something. Not giving Poe the chance to ask any more questions, he grabbed the popcorn and made his way out of the room, leaving Poe and you alone. 

He was still staring at you, his eyes narrowed, and you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable under his gaze. “What?” You snapped, wondering why he was staring at you. 

“Something’s happening between the two of you. I’ve got my eye on it.” He replied, pointing his two fingers at his eyes and then back to you. 

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the drinks, and pushed past Poe back into your living room. 

Movie nights at your place have been happening for several years now. Poe, Finn, and Rose always took up one of the couches while Rey and you took up the little two person loveseat, which left Ben the recliner. It was a system that had been going strong since the first movie night. 

Apparently today, Rey decided to change it. When you walked in, you were surprised to see Rey reclined back, watching you with a little devilish grin on her lips, nodding her head to the remaining spot on the loveseat. 

With Ben. 

Sometimes, your friends were way too meddlesome. You didn’t want anyone to think their little trick had affected you though. You handed everybody their drinks, settling on the couch next to Ben and grabbed the remote. “It’s stand up night isn’t it?” 

“Then Comedy!” Finn spoke up from the couch. 

“Then horror.” Rey said, giving you a scheming look. 

You let out a sigh. Everyone in this apartment knew that you hated horror movies. You were easy to scare, and now you were even more sure that Rey had set this seating arrangement up on purpose. “Fine,” you mumbled under your breath as you flipped it to the stand up show you guys had been watching recently. 

As usual, everyone started drifting off about the third movie. They almost always did, beginning with Rose, Finn, Poe and lastly Rey, but Rey seemed determined tonight to at least stay up until the horror movie started. Probably to make sure you were going to play it. 

She knew you too well. 

When you hit play, you leaned back against the couch, bringing your feet up off the ground, so the demons couldn’t get them, and sighed, knowing what you were in for. You were distracted from your thoughts when Ben nudged your side. You looked up at him to find him holding out your blanket, your security object, towards you. With a grateful smile, you took it from him, wrapping it around you, and not even noticing how much closer you had put yourself to Ben in the process. 

You also didn’t notice the way that he leaned even more into you. 

When the movie started, you knew within the first five minutes that you were in for it. You hated jump scares so much, and that was all this movie seemed to be. Within ten minutes, you had your blanket under your nose, watching with wide eyes, waiting, anticipating the next scare. 

“You know, you can almost always tell when the scare’s coming by the music.” Ben whispered in your ear. 

Looking up at him, you noticed for the first time how close the two of you had gotten. There were mere inches between your faces, and you felt your heart beat pick up with that newfound knowledge. Why was he so close? Why had you gotten so close? You were so distracted; you took a minute to comprehend what he had said. “I - what?” You asked, hoping he took your stuttering as scared, and not having anything to do with his proximity. 

Ben seemed to be unaffected by how close you two were sitting. You could tell no difference in his voice or anything like that, but he also didn’t move away from you like you would have expected. It seemed he was going to continue to surprise you tonight. “Listen to the music. It almost always gets louder, and then goes silent right before there’s a jump scare. Trust me.” Ben whispered to you. 

Deciding to listen for his tips, you turned back to the screen, right in time for a demonic looking ghost to pop out, screaming. 

Letting out a yelp of your own, you covered your head with the blanket, cowering into Ben’s side without a second thought, even as you heard him and Rey, still awake on the chair, laughing at you. “That’s the last time I trust you, Ben Solo.” You mumbled under the pillow. 

“Hey, I did say almost, not all the time.” You heard him reply, and then felt a tug on the blanket, a pout on your face as he tugged it off your head. You had to bite your bottom lip though, when you caught sight of his face, that smile you had seen earlier back on it. It was hard not to smile back at him when he was looking at you like that, but you tried to resist. 

“Still,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Ben shook his head, that grin seeming to widen as he looked at you. “You, um -” He reached around you, draping his arm across your shoulders and reaching into your hair. “You had some wool.” He said, plucking it out and flicking it away.

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you didn’t even know why. “Oh, thanks,” you replied, giving him a small smile that he returned. 

You expected him to take his arm off of you, but the evening’s surprises continued when he didn’t. It was loose, and you knew you could shake it off if you wanted to, and nothing would be said about it . . . 

But you didn’t. 

Instead you curled into his side even more, tucking yourself into him and his warmth, almost snuggling into him as you let your head rest against his side. Then his thumb started stroking your shoulder, and your whole body relaxed. You couldn’t help but wonder when this change had happened. What moment had you started feeling so comfortable around him when a month ago you would have shoved him away? Just like how it had been hard to pinpoint when your dislike for him had begun up until two weeks ago, it was now hard to determine when you started liking Ben. 

And you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t the type of like you had for Poe, or Finn . . . No. Your heart didn’t react to their touches the way it reacted to Ben. This was a whole different story. 

The fact was . . . at some point and time, that hate had changed to something much more. 

____________________

The loud shrill of a cell phone pulled you out of your slumber. You groaned into the warmth at your side, reaching out until you found the offending object and answered it without a second thought. “Hello?” You mumbled, your voice rough with sleep. 

The voice on the other end of the line startled you awake though as soon as she said your name, because it made you realize you had answered Ben’s phone. “Leia, I’m sorry, we were sleeping, and I didn’t see whose phone -” You shot upright, making Ben groan next to you as you disrupted the position he had fallen asleep in. Partially asleep, his hand slid from your shoulder to your hip, and heat rushed to your face as his hand met the bare skin where your top had ridden up. If that didn’t make you flustered enough, his thumb started rubbing circles into your skin, and you were going to -

“Did you hear me?” 

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, can you say that again?” You asked, attempting to focus on anything other than Ben Solo’s large hand. 

“I’m sure Ben’s asleep, but could you wake him up for me? We need him to go check on the house. The alarm for the gate’s gone off which means that Chewy’s got out again.” Leia told you. 

“Of course, give me a second, and I’ll see what I can do.” Dropping the phone at your side, you placed your hand on Ben’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Ben, Leia’s on the phone. She needs to talk to you.” 

All he did was grunt, which you should have expected. 

Sighing, you began to shake his shoulder more vigorously. “Ben, come on, you’ve got to wake up. Leia says that Chewy has gotten out, and you need to go check on him.” You told him. 

At least one word of that sentence managed to get through his sleepy brain. “Chewy?” He repeated, his voice low with sleep. 

Dear God why was that voice so hot? “Um, y-yeah, Leia says he’s got out. She’s on the phone.” You told him, placing the phone in his hand. You bit your lip as his hand gripped your bare hip for another second as he hoisted himself up, but then he dropped it, bringing it back to his own thigh as if it had never been around you in the first place. 

“Mom?” he said, bringing the phone up to his ear, his voice groggy and deep. “No, you didn’t interrupt a date, but yeah I’ll go check on him.” His mother must have said something else then, because he glanced at you for a quick moment before he responded. “Mom, I can drive fine, and she’s tired too, I doubt she wants to drive out to the house with me -”

You didn’t even think about what you were doing. You grabbed the phone back from Ben’s hand and put it up to your ear. “Don’t worry, Leia, I’ll go with him.” 

“Thank you, Sweetheart. You two please be careful, and thank you so much.” Leia told you. “We don’t know what we’d do if something ever happened to Chewy.” 

“It’s no problem. We’ll let you know as soon as we know he’s safe and sound.” You assured her. Then the two of you said your goodbyes, and you hung up the phone, turning back to Ben. “Well, I guess we better get out of here.” 

He looked exhausted. He was rubbing sleep from his eyes and you could tell that if you let him, he would be asleep again in about ten seconds. “Listen, I know you told my mom you would come with me, but you don’t have to -”

“It’s fine,” you brushed off, standing up and stretching your arms out over your head, arching your back and trying to get a good stretch. “I can see why she doesn’t want you driving. You take a bit to wake up, don’t you?” 

You said so because he was staring at your stomach, looking a little dazed. When you looked down to see if you had something on your shirt, you realized how much your shirt had ridden up when you stretched, revealing a few inches of skin, and pulled it back down. 

“You sure you’re okay? I can drive if you want.” You offered, trying to break the weird tension that seemed to fill the room. 

Ben shook his head, standing up and stared at you for a moment. You had the very distinct feeling that he was trying to read you, trying to figure out why you wanted to come with him on this late night drive when you didn’t have to. You could see the frustration in him, not knowing the answer to his silent question, and yet, he didn’t ask. “Are you sure?” He said instead. 

Giving him a small smile, you nodded. “Yeah, I am. It’ll get me away from all the snoring for a little bit.” You added on, pointing towards Rey and then Poe, the loudest in the room. Was that the real reason? No. The real reason was that you wanted to spend more time with him. Alone time, but you were way too scared to admit that right now. Not without knowing if he was even sort of starting to feel the same way. 

His gaze never wavered from you, almost as if he could sense that you weren’t telling him the whole truth. If he did though, he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he spared a glance at Poe, and then turned back to you. “You should hear him in the apartment. It’s worse.” 

You grinned at him. 

____________________

The drive back to Ben’s parents place was mostly silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The two of you had transgressed to the point in your relationship where you could be quiet around each other and not feel awkward. You spent most of the trip watching Ben, sneaking glances, and then turning away when you saw him turning your head towards you. It was embarrassing, and you felt like a high schooler with a crush. 

You were thankful when you made it to his parents house to escape the tension. “So why aren’t your parents home?” You asked, climbing out of the car. 

“France I think.” Ben replied, making his way up to the front door and unlocking it. 

“You don’t know?” You asked, stopping in the doorway.

Ben’s voice turned tense. “I stopped keeping track of that a long time ago.” Then he turned back and noticed that you weren’t following him. “Are you coming?” He asked, tilting his head towards the backyard. 

Nodding, you hurried after him, following him until you reached the gate that closed off the backyard to the woods behind it. “Definitely seems like he got out.” You said, noticing the lock that had been knocked off. 

“Damn dog is too smart for his own good.” Ben muttered, looking out into the darkness of the trees behind the house. “Guess we’re going in after him.” 

Your eyes widened, eerily reminded of the horror movie that you had watched hours earlier. The wind whistling through the leaves, the crickets chirping and the owls hooting sure sounded the same as it had then. “Uh, in there?” You said, biting your bottom lip. 

Ben picked up on your hesitation at once. “I’ve been in these woods a hundred times. There aren’t any axe swinging murderers hiding out in a wooden cabin.” 

“All it takes is one time.” You argued, eyeing the woods, fingers twitching at your sides. 

He let out a sigh, and held his hand out to you. “I’ll go first. So if they try and take you down, I’m going with you.” 

You glanced at his hand, then looked up into his eyes, eyes that were imploring you to trust him. After that, you didn’t even hesitate, slipping your small hand into his much larger one and letting him lead you into the woods. “So . . . are we going to walk around until we find him, or -”

“I have a pretty good idea of where he’s at.” Ben said, chuckling when a tree branch cracked, and you jumped. “Sorry, that was me.” 

Narrowing your eyes at him, you shoved him with your elbow. “You shouldn’t harm your own people like that.” You joked, reminding him of all the times you had called him a tree. 

Ben rolled his eyes. 

The two of you didn’t say anything else for a stretch, but you never let go of his hand, and the longer you held onto it, the less scared you found that you were. Once again you were struck by how comforting it was to be with him, to have him at your side, something you would have thought you were crazy for thinking months ago. While yes, Ben had been the one to start the feud . . . You hadn’t been the nicest to him either, and you wondered how much time and getting to know each other had been wasted because of that. “Hey, Ben?” You said, giving his hand a squeeze to get his attention. 

“Hmm?” He acknowledged, though his attention was focused on the woods around the two of you. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out of nowhere. 

“What?” Ben asked, shooting you a confused look for a moment before holding a tree branch out of the way for you. 

“I’m sorry for being bitchy all the time . . . you know, earlier.” You told him, shrugging your shoulders. After all, you could probably list most of the times that you had been horrible to him, but that would take way too much time. 

Ben stopped at your words, looking at you with curiosity in his intense gaze. “What brought this on?” 

The thing was . . . you didn’t want to admit what was bringing this all on. As much as your relationship had grown, you weren’t positive that he wouldn’t laugh at you if he discovered you had grown feelings for him after all that. “I - uh . . . Trying to be a better person?” You replied, not sounding the least bit convincing. 

He snorted. “Sure you are.” He said, pulling a last branch out of your way and gesturing you forward into a clearing. 

As soon as you stepped forward, you were shocked by what you found. You had to admit, the forest had made a beautiful little natural place here. A small creek babbling from somewhere nearby along with the chirping of crickets filled your ears, and there was just enough moonlight to shine down between the branches of the trees to illuminate the flowers blooming from the ground. 

It was beautiful. 

Even the large, very muddy dog rolling around in the water. 

“Damn it,” Ben murmured when he caught sight of him. “Chewy!” 

The dog perked up at once when he heard Ben’s voice, and ran straight towards the two of you. Of course, you should have seen what was about to happen, but your mind was too distracted by how the moonlight was shining off of Ben’s hair. So you let out a grunt as the dog collided with you, covering you in his mud and licking your face. 

“Chewy get down!” Ben ordered, but instead of doing so, Chewy decided it was Ben’s turn to get kissed and covered in mud as well. 

You couldn’t help but laugh watching Chewy attempt to chase Ben around in circles and get as much mud as possible on him. “Might as well give it up!” You called to him, another laugh bursting from your lips as he almost tripped over a root. Of course his momentary loss of balance was what Chewy needed to jump up and began licking him, covering him in as much mud as you. 

By the time that Ben managed to get Chewy off of him, It was safe to say that the two of you could use a shower. 

“Please tell me you have some spare clothes up there.” You asked, nodding up to the house as you held up your filthy shirt. 

Ben nodded. 

____________________

The clothes that he gave you were so comfortable, albeit large, that you almost wanted to keep them. You sat next to him in the bathroom, you on the counter and him leaning over the sink, both of you attempting to wipe away the remnants of mud from your faces. 

“I bet Chewy was a fun dog to have around when you were a kid.” You stated, shooting him a grin in the mirror. 

Ben shook his head, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “According to my mother I used to ride him.” 

The image crossed your mind of a young Ben Solo, laughing, smiling, on the back of the large dog, and your smile widened. “Oh, there’s got to be pictures of that somewhere.” 

“You’re never getting to see them, and I don’t know why you keep trying.” Ben said, and although his voice sounded frustrated, the lack of tension in his face said otherwise. 

“I refuse to believe that. Given the opportunity, Leia would show them to me in a heartbeat.” You argued, bumping him with your shoulder. 

He bumped you back. “Which is why you’re never going to get the opportunity again.” 

You frowned at him, giving him the best pouty eyes that you could manage. “Come on, Solo, just one. Let me see one picture. That’s all I’m asking for.” 

Your eyes had no effect on him whatsoever. “You look ridiculous like that.” He said, and your heartbeat kicked up as he leaned forward, bringing the washcloth he had been using up to your forehead and brushing it along your hairline. “You forgot some mud.” 

“Thanks,” you said, biting your bottom lip, your eyes trapped in his gaze. There was something so intense about them that you had always found intimidating. They were the same now, but instead of being intimidated, you felt drawn to them. So drawn you almost didn’t notice when he said your name. “Hmm?” You mumbled, not trusting your voice. 

“Why did you want to come with me here? You know that I would have been fine.” Ben asked, confusion clear in his tone as he dropped the hand that had been wiping the mud from your face to the counter, close enough to touch your leg. 

You wanted to lie to him. It should be easy to. You were sure that given the opportunity, you could think of many reasons why you would have wanted to come with him, but right now, your mind was drawing a blank. It was as if his eyes held some sort of spell over you, and you couldn’t speak anything but the truth. “I . . . I wanted to spend more time with you.” You answered, hoping that answer would be vague enough for him. 

It wasn’t. 

“Why? We had just spent hours together watching movies and -”

You cut him off before he could continue. “Does everything have to have a reason? Can’t I like spending time with you?” 

Ben shook his head. “A few months ago you didn’t want anywhere near -”

What part of your brain, or maybe your heart, told you to do it, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that Ben was rambling, and you knew he wasn’t going to stop until you admitted why you wanted to spend time with him. You weren’t sure you knew the right words yet though, so instead, you did what seemed logical at the moment. 

You slid your hand into the hair on the back of his head, and used it to tug him forward until your lips met in a kiss. 

And Ben froze. You felt his whole body stiffen at your actions from the neck your palm was resting against, to the hand that had now curled into a fist at your side. Heat rushing to your face, you pulled back, embarrassment inching through your whole body as you stared into his intense eyes once more. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

He didn’t let you get another word out. A gasp left you as his lips met your own in a passionate kiss that you had never expected him to be capable of. Ben Solo was a man of logic and seriousness most of the time. There had been moments when you had seen outbursts of emotion from him, mostly anger, but this was something else. 

He wanted you. It was clear in the way his hands gripped your thighs and then used them to bring you against him. In the way his lips parted and pulled you in with such emotion that it left you breathless and sent your head spinning as you tried to play catch up. The two of you had kissed at that first party, and while it had been nice, it didn’t even come close to comparing to this. 

Kissing Ben Solo was like kissing an inferno, and there was no way to smother it out. Not that you had any desire to. 

When his tongue slipped past your lips, you let out a soft moan, clutching him to you by his shirt and wrapping your legs around him. You wanted him closer. You wanted to feel every part of him against you, and he seemed to have no problem with that either. As your tongues met, he slid his large hands up and down your thighs. The way that they covered almost the whole entire body part made you shiver in anticipation of what those hands would feel like on your bare skin. Of course, that put the thought in your head of what his bare skin would feel like under your fingers . . . 

Your hands had been resting on the back of his neck, but you slid them down enough to slip under the collar of his shirt onto his warm skin, massaging the muscles that strained under your fingers. 

He groaned. He groaned and he seemed to melt under your touch, his hands slipping from your thighs around to the small of your back, splaying across it. His embrace was so warm, so firm, you felt like you wanted to drown in it and the sensation of kissing him. 

Then his phone started ringing. 

When he let out another groan, this one significantly less pleasurable than the last one, and pulled his lips away from yours, you frowned, not done with kissing him yet. Instead you took matters into your own hands and leaned forward to kiss along his jawline. 

You thought he might push you away, but he didn’t, his hand on your back keeping you pressed tight against his body while he pulled out his phone. “Hello?” Ben said, and you were pleased to hear the strain in his voice. 

As soon as the voice responded though, it was like a switch had been flipped inside of him. Once again you felt him tense up, and curious as to his reaction, you let your lips leave his skin, watching his face. He was avoiding your gaze, looking over your shoulder into the mirror. “Yes, Chewy’s fine. He’s back in the backyard.” 

Well that explained it. He probably wasn’t comfortable letting you kiss all over him while he was on the phone with his mother . . . 

Right? 

“All right. We will. You’re welcome.” Ben said, and then slid his phone into his back pocket once more. 

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes once more, and frowned at what you saw there. Now you would be the first to admit that you didn’t know Ben Solo so well that you could sense everything he was feeling from looking at his face, but there was no denying there was something there that wasn’t before, and you didn’t like the looks of it. 

Your eyes closed as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, which normally is something that would have made your heart pound, but instead, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was . . . off. 

“We should go.” Ben said, his voice soft as his lips brushed against your skin. 

You nodded, biting your bottom lip as you looked up at him, but he didn’t meet your gaze, instead walking out of the bathroom and leaving you there with the gut feeling that the relationship between the two of you had fundamentally changed. Again. 

____________________

The drive back to your apartment was silent, tension thick in the air as you tried to make conversation while Ben replied with one word answers. When you pulled up, the sun was rising, and you spotted all of your friend’s cars there, so you assumed they were all asleep. “Are you coming in?” You asked, your voice quiet in the morning light, noticing how he didn’t turn his car off. 

“I have to get some work done. I’ll see you later.” He replied.  

A dismissal if you’d ever heard one, you nodded, climbing out of the car and up your steps. Ben didn’t even wait to see if you made it inside. In seconds he was speeding down the road. 

Watching him drive away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever relationship could have come from you and Ben was over before it could start.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Wednesday

Guess what, guys? IT’S WEDNESDAY! >:D You know what that means~!

TIME TO SHARE!

I’m excited because I finally, finally found the inspiration and motivation to write chapter 13 of my main fic! And I used the good old, ‘And he returned...’ technique! X’D

Time to talk about mages and templars everybody!

“Ma halla,” Cyfrin’s voice came forward, laced with tiredness and unusually serious as his eyes fell upon his sister, “the Chantry has not had control over either side for years. If they had, the Chantry in Kirkwall wouldn't have met the fate that it did.” He picked up the stick they had been using to tend the fire, giving the logs a gentle poke and sending sizzling embers upwards, “Now, it is merely a war of endurance; who can last the longest and who can end it with the most spite, the most damage. Blood will run for many moons as it has for several years now. Except this time, light is being shone on those crimson puddles rather than being mopped up with a," A finger rose to slender lips, a pantomime of silence and secrecy.

Fane sighed, grimacing a bit when Mhairi shifted against his side and watching those embers rise and then blink out of existence. Cyfrin was right. This was a war without end, and each side was merely swinging at whatever happened to move now. Power corrupted, and it had done so in this instance; mages overwhelmed by the taste of air, magic responding with giddy excitement; templars breaking the chains that held their hands and feet in place, as well as their swords. Both had never known what it meant to be free, and now that they had it in aces, they couldn’t cope with it.  All the common folk, them included, could do was wait it out, like a parent waiting for their child, who refused to listen, to settle down. That was all there was to it.

Fane slowly rubbed his palms together, wringing his fingers a bit as he spoke, “Whatever it is now, it doesn’t matter. It’s a mess made for a different rag,” With a tired movement, he let his head roll to the side a bit to rest atop his sister’s, relishing in its silkiness. To think, he had almost abandoned that comfort for fear. He continued with another sigh, “All that matters is staying away from it. It isn’t our fight; it never has been.”

Silence passed between them all after his words had fallen, the crackling of the fire and the drone of crickets and cicadas the only sounds to fill the air. Cyfrin only gave him a nod that said, 'I agree' before going back to idly poking at the fire. However, Fane could feel something like a tense ripple from Mhairi, her body suddenly rigid where it rested against him.

Shit, Fane thought, growling a bit as he recognized this rolling wave exuding off Mhairi. He should have kept his mouth shut.

A few more moments of silence passed before the words he had been dreadfully waiting for passed lips gingerly being bitten into.

"Is it really not our fight, though?," Mhairi asked in a sheepish whisper. Fane watched from over his nose as delicate hands appeared from under fur and cotton, pink with Fereldan chill and palms up, "Or at least, my fight? I mean, I'm a mage, so really--"

"Mhairi," Fane cut off his sister's words, voice dropping low in warning, "Whatever's going through your head right now, end it."

Fane caught the flicker of amber from across the way, their owner knowing where this was going as much as he did, but he was more focused on ice as it hardened before him. He was not going to entertain this ridiculous train of thought! Was his sister mad!?

"But, brother--!"

"Enough," Fane snapped with a harshness he rarely used with her, "Do you want a templar on your heels!? Do you want to be silenced again!?"

Nostrils flared as he brandished a glare downwards, but his irritation cooled as Mhairi's icy gaze melted and turned downwards, guilt and pain in turquoise. Fane frowned deeply at that. Shit, he hadn't meant to…! Damn it all! This was why he should have left on his own! All he did was pull down, down, down! He could never find the right words!

"Of course I don't want those things, brother. You know that," Mhairi said with tightness, voice like a taut cord before letting out a tiny sigh, down-turned eyes staring pointedly at her hands--the tools for which another tool could be wielded in, "It just...feels wrong to turn away and let not only the mages and templars suffer, but innocent people, too. The people on farms and in villages didn't ask to be involved, but they are." A gentle blue glow enshrouded slender fingers and smooth palms, making Fane's nose twitch in irritation and his stomach roll uncomfortably, but he watched it same as her, "I guess I just want to help them, to show them that it doesn't have to end in flames. Magic is beautiful, and it hurts to know no one but the Dalish recognize that."

Fane listened, rapt and attentive even though he knew his face showed otherwise. Mhairi had vocalized these thoughts before to him, and while he understood where she was coming from, that still didn't mean this was their fight. What was there to gain from throwing themselves into the pan? Nothing but an early grave, that's what. Or worse yet, tranquility. The very idea of that happening to his sister made him sick. How such a practice came to be was beyond him, and yet, it made his mind prickle and pull with those odd feelings of ‘wrongness’. Obviously, stripping a person of their emotions was vile and grotesque and disgusting, but it felt like something more to him. It always felt like more with so little.

Fane let out a long sigh through his nose at himself and his sister, the air condensing in front of him, "It's not your job to present that to the world, Mhairi." He shifted a bit, the fur lining of his cloak brushing against the bottom of his cheeks as he did so. He was starting to get warm, uncomfortably warm.

"Isn't it?," his sister forwarded, pressed, pushed, sparkling eyes slowly rolling upwards to look at him; the glow of her hands fading away to let firelight take center stage again, "I’m a--”

Fane growled, his chest rattling from the depth of it. “Yes, you’re a mage, My, but that’s more likely to get you killed, or worse, made tranquil than understood,” He met her slowly narrowing gaze unflinchingly before sighing tiredly, shoulders slumping and voice softening at the look of hurt in icy blue, “Listen: stop chasing after trouble. No good can come from involving yourself in this mess,” His tired eyes shifted to the fire once more, watching it dance and consume both air and forest wood, “This continent is engulfed in war, and it’s not your job to fix the mistakes of others just because of what you are. That type of blind thinking is exactly why all that’s happened, happened.”

He felt his fists ball up against where his hands were resting between his thighs from anxiety and frustration, the skin along his arms pinching to where he could finally feel his scars start to act up. Great. Just what he needed alongside all this ridiculousness. Why did his sister always have to play this card? Yes, she was a mage, but there were a thousand more who could, but wouldn’t do what his sister wished to. And why? Because they knew it was pointless as narrow perspectives were set in the stone of ages.

Time and time again mages had tried and failed to show the world the intended use for magic. Time and time again restrictions were set ever tighter because of those harmless displays, the Chantry crying, ‘Demon, demon! Blood magic, blood magic!’, and a single, single show of defense against such accusations was treated as a literal felony. Now, the Fade touched were doing the only thing they could think to do after so many disappointments; fight. A caged animal was bound to break the door holding it back, and that was exactly what had happened to every Circle; they broke.

They went silent, voices stolen straight from their throats, emotions ripped away so as to be unable to defend themselves any longer, and the beauty his sister desperately wished to show no longer relevant as it had no place in war, in a world where beauty was a stranger. Fane didn’t have much allegiance to either side, both were foolish and pathetic and tiring, and despite his personal experience with magic, he didn’t detest it. It had its uses, just not on him and that was because he didn’t relish getting uncontrollably ill. He was open minded enough to know magic hadn’t been the true culprit, it had only been like the innocents in this pointless war; used against its will. It had been the blade that carved the stone of his body, but it hadn’t been the hand to wield it.

So, he would admit he felt sorry for the endlessly warring factions, even the templars despite his personal feelings regarding them. To be played like a fiddle by a bunch of tottering zealots, zealots that used ‘faith’ as their bargaining chip to garner influence and power while declaring, ‘It is the Maker’s will’. Sadly, despite how thin the veil of deceit was, the people fell for it like raindrops during a heavy downpour, fast and hard. Was it the humans’ ‘god’s’ will to rip away independent thought? To sunder the minds of those who broke the leash long having held them back?

To indiscriminately kill another on the basis of ‘you’re a mage’ or ‘you’re a templar’ or ‘you’re a threat to our power’? Apparently so. Tragic, but there was nothing to be done about it now and Mhairi needed to understand that.

She needed to understand there was no ‘beauty’ in war.

Mhairi let out a disgruntled huff before her form shifted away from him to sit up. Fane squeezed his already tight fists tighter, the leather of his gloves creaking from the force as he watched his sister rise up from the log, her action calm, but her eyes and face held frustration in delicate edges and firelit ice. He felt his expression go hard as he sat up straight, silently mourning the loss of momentary comfort. Again, he should have kept his mouth shut. Why did he even try using words?

“I think I can see perfectly well, brother. I saw the corpses mutilated beyond recognition, the burnt buildings and the sacked ones, the people crying over what they lost, children wailing as their parents wouldn’t wake up. I saw,” Mhairi said, lilt strained and lips twitching with the urge to bend downwards as a forlorn mutter came after, “I wish you would stop treating me like I don’t, like a child.”

With that, Fane watched his sister quickly stride away towards where they had pitched tents, darkened cloak fluttering behind her and kicking up the dusting of snow with her partially bare feet. It was only when Mhairi completely disappeared from his sight, safely burrowing into her tent, did he let out a sigh, the exhalation hard and long.

“Damn it all,” Fane cursed out under his breath, bringing hand out and up from his cloak to rub at his face. He felt ten years older all of a sudden. Scratch that, a thousand years older. How much older could he potentially feel at this rate?

“Tactful as always, ma falon.”

----

Fane can be incredibly harsh, and a downright jerk sometimes. He doesn’t mince words or give platitudes. He says it how he sees it. 

Tagging: @noire-pandora @oxygenforthewicked @varric-tethras-editor @dreadfutures @the-dreadful-canine @drag-on-age @a-drama-addict @little-lightning-lavellan @whataboutbugs @blueheaded @aymayzing @rosella-writes @1000generations and anyone else that’d like to share! (no pressure! <3)

[kuiinncedes]

relight that spark

jatp au - chapter 1 - part 2/15? - 9,385 words

the prologue/part 1 (tumblr link) if you missed it!! (ao3 link) :D

so obviously this is pretty slowly updating already and it probably willll get worse 🤪 i might post the next part in like a week tho, it's not a full "episode" chapter and i already have it fully written and i'm pretty happy with it 😗✌️

this chapter is pretty long and i apologize for that bc i know i get annoyed when i have to stop in the middle of a long chapter and then my phone like loses my spot or whatever lakdshgjfs but idk how else to do it so .. just have my apology lol sorryyy <3 the next "episode" chapter is looking to be longer tho sdlkhglsj

LASTLY BUT NOT LEASTLY A HUGE MASSIVE FUCKING THANK YOU TO MEG @neversatisfiedwithlife FOR BETA READING THIS FOR MEEEE AND BEING SO SUPPORTIVE AND WONDERFUL LOVE YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SM 💞💖💓💗💕

chapter title and lyrics in this part from "wake up" from the julie and the phantoms soundtrack (whichhh if you haven't heard it... you should listen to it after reading maybe 👀)

plot and a lot of the dialogue from julie and the phantoms so like credit to all those creators and writers 🤪

warnings for this chapter: grief, mentioned character death (regarding kurt's mom)

read below the cut or here on ao3!! <3

--

2020

There’s a deep-seated weight of dread in Kurt’s stomach that he’s unable to ignore for the entire morning.

His last chance at the music program -- he needs to play again today, for the first time in over a year, or he’s done.

It’s all he can think about all day. He makes it through his first few classes, somehow, walking through the halls almost mindlessly, thoughts far away and only worrying about what he’s going to do, barely paying attention to who he’s almost running into, because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

It almost feels like last year again, when school started and everyone knew and everyone was staring at him in the hallways, even though he knows that they’re not right now and he knows most of these people couldn’t care less about him not being able to play at this point, but in his head it feels like they all know, like they’re all waiting, waiting and watching for him to play again and sing again.

He has been, too, for over a year.

He stops at his locker to wait for Mercedes before going to class.

“We’re gonna get tattoos together,” comes her familiar voice out of nowhere.

Involuntarily, Kurt smiles a little, turning to Mercedes. “Umm…?”

She shrugs and smiles back at him. “You know, when we’re adults and out in New York together or something. Just -- you know, at some point.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, silently saying, where the hell did this come from. Mercedes raises both of hers as if to say, answer the question. “Just curious,” she adds out loud. “Could start planning them now.”

He chuckles. “Of course. I’ll get all the matching tattoos with you.”

Grins and silent agreement pass between them and they both turn toward the lockers, a welcome break in the slowest part of the day, the voices and noises of other students filling the air.

“I know you don’t want me to ask, but…” Mercedes starts slowly after a moment, and Kurt nods his head in acknowledgement; he knows what she’s going to say. “Do you know what you’re going to do today?”

He puts some books in his backpack, mainly for something to do. “I’ll know in the moment,” he says, somewhat truthfully. He could just say what he thinks will happen, which is nothing. But Mercedes can see right through him anyway, so might as well stay somewhat positive until it happens. Or rather, doesn’t happen.

Mercedes sighs a little. “Mrs. Harrison said today is your last chance,” she tries, leaning on her side against the lockers.

“I know, I was there,” Kurt says lightly, letting his eyes scan the contents of his locker a tenth time. Mercedes reaches over and squeezes his hand lightly. Her eyes tell him that she’ll stop talking about it for now, and he squeezes back gratefully.

The conversation with Mercedes has really helped, though; it always does. If he’s going to spectacularly embarrass himself in front of his music class, and probably for the last time, at least he’ll have Mercedes there.

She sees it in his smile, and she sends it back. You always will, is her silent whisper.

A sharp, cheery voice pierces the air and makes them both turn their heads, and the uplifted mood from the conversation with Mercedes disappears when Kurt sees none other than Quinn Fabray, in her Cheerios! uniform, complete with a tight ponytail and perfect smile as she hands out what appears to be flyers to passing students, who are immediately won over by her status, closeness, sweetness. Finn Hudson lingers behind her with his guitar case and his own stack of flyers that he’s not handing out nearly as enthusiastically.

“Spirit rally Friday!” Quinn’s saying as she all but shoves another flyer into the face of a nervous freshman who takes it and scurries away, doing a double-take once they pass her. “Come see the Cheerios! do their new routine, and my group, the Unholy Trinity, perform our brand new original song!”

“What’s she handing out?” Kurt whispers to Mercedes. A corner of his lip quirks up despite the general unpleasantness of seeing Quinn.

“Desperation?” she answers with a small smirk. When Kurt turns back, Quinn is in front of him. He holds back a grimace at her fake smile and cheeriness.

“Hey, guys!” she chirps, as if they’re just any two other students at this school. “Here you go, my group’s performing at the spirit assembly on Friday!”

Kurt flinches back a little as a flyer appears much too close to his face and he takes it instinctively, holding it lightly in his fingertips. It truly looks like something Quinn designed -- perfectly professional, impressive, eye-catching -- and he can’t say it looks bad, as much as he might want to. He eyes Quinn over the top of the flyer.

“I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do,” Quinn continues, that smile still on her face, and there are the claws, Kurt thinks as he resists the urge to rip up the flyer right in front of her.

“Oh, my gosh, Quinn, thank you!” Mercedes says in an exaggeratedly sweet voice, clearly -- or at least clearly to Kurt, and likely Quinn as well -- imitating the specific tone of voice that Quinn takes, and Kurt stifles a laugh.

“Oh my gosh, Cedes, don’t bother coming!” Quinn says with a wide smile, turning away with a whip of her ponytail to continue pushing her flyers.

Kurt looks back at Mercedes, mumbling, “She did not just call you Cedes,” while Mercedes crumples up the flyer in her hands.

“Well, she did,” Mercedes says. Kurt can see the anger behind her eyes and he raises a concerned eyebrow. “I’m fine. She just… you know.” She dismisses his silent question.

“Yeah.” He loops his arm through Mercedes’ and they head down the hallway, almost running into Finn not three steps from Kurt’s locker.

“Oh, hey, sorry guys!” he says with a sheepish but genuine smile that contains all the warmth missing from Quinn’s. “Did you -- I guess Quinn already got -- ”

“Yep, she got to us,” Cedes says quickly, steering Kurt around Finn. “Thanks, Finn, bye!”

“Please tell me you are over him,” Mercedes says when they’re in a quieter area at the end of the row of lockers. Kurt realizes he’s staring and quickly looks away.

“Yeah, I am.” Mercedes looks at him skeptically and he insists, “I am, promise! You just… don’t find a nice jock like him around here that much.”

She nods, satisfied, and raises her eyebrows meaningfully. “You know they’re going to get married and have a bunch of demon babies.”

Kurt’s jaw drops open slightly and he laughs. “You can’t say Finn isn’t a sweetheart.”

“Only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby,” Mercedes says matter-of-factly.

“What… it’s a dominant gene?”

“Of course.” Mercedes turns back toward Quinn and raises her voice. “Demon!”

The two of them push against the wall, hiding behind the end of the lockers, when Quinn snaps her gaze back. Kurt can’t hold his laughs in this time, and he feels a little bad about it, but… considering what Quinn’s done to them, he can let himself and Cedes get away with it.

“There’s that smile,” Mercedes says gently as they gather themselves. “Now let’s go prove everybody wrong.” She pulls him toward the music room and slowly but surely, the sickening feeling in his stomach returns. He sits down next to Mercedes and just breathes. She squeezes his hand again.

Mrs. Harrison starts class soon after they arrive, getting into the last of the progress performances which are both a chance for the students to show off to their classmates, and also a checkpoint for participation in the music program, which is the part Kurt’s concerned about.

He barely hears as Finn finishes his drum solo and everyone claps and then Mrs. Harrison is calling his name and he’s standing and walking to the piano and oh god.

“Take your time,” Mrs. Harrison says gently.

That’s all he’s been doing for almost a year, just taking his time, but nothing has come of it. He sits down slowly, opening his music in front of him but it’s like his eyes don’t see the notes and just gloss over the page. He looks down at the keys, sets his fingers in place reluctantly.

It’s been so long that the keys almost feel foreign under his fingers when they once were the most familiar thing in the world. It’s been so long that he barely remembers how the song should go and why did he think he could just do this, it doesn’t matter how good at sightreading he’s always been. It’s been so long of him locking the memories in a chained and padlocked safe in the back of his mind and he’s terrified of playing again being what opens it because playing and singing and music has always always meant Mom, and she’s gone which he still sometimes forgets and it always hurts like hell to remember again, so letting himself remember so much more will only make reality that much worse. It’s been so long and what if he’s forgotten, what if he opens himself to the memories just to find that they don’t exist anymore?

It’s been so long; it’s been over a year, but doesn’t that mean he should be fine by now?

He knows avoiding the memories hasn’t been the best idea, but right now he can’t think of anything he could have done differently, can’t linger and regret his choices because he feels so vulnerable and exposed finally sitting at the piano in front of his whole class for the first time in a year, and the choice is right there and maybe he could do it but not in front of everyone his brain screams, and he can almost feel Quinn’s sharp, judging, so far from friendly gaze fixed on him and that is what breaks it, that is something he definitely can’t take and he pulls his hands back with a short inhale and the whirlwind in his mind stops and he can mostly breathe again.

It’s been so long.

Heart still pounding, he gets up and apologizes to Mrs. Harrison because she really has tried to help him and he appreciates it but he still can’t, and Quinn makes some comment and Mercedes fires something back but he doesn’t hear any of it, he just has to leave.

He knows Mercedes follows him out and she calls out his name when he’s halfway down the stairs. He’s started crying at some point and he doesn’t know when. All of it is just such a mess and so present in his mind; he was so close to music again, to Mom, but he’s not ready. He’s scared.

“Kurt,” Cedes calls again, quieter, her voice soft and choked, pleading. “Come on, please. Come back… and show them you can sing .”

He turns to look at her at the top of the stairs. “I can’t,” he says, voice rough with tears. “I’ve tried, for over a year I’ve tried…. I’ve tried for Dad, I’ve tried for Mrs. Harrison, fuck, I’ve even tried for Quinn.” He gives a short, bitter laugh as more tears spill down his cheeks.

“I’ve tried so hard for you.” He gestures up to her, voice breaking. “I’ve tried for Mom.” He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a breath. “And I’ve tried for myself.” Mercedes is also crying a little now.

“For over a year, I’ve tried,” Kurt continues weakly. “But I just -- I can’t. Not… not now.”

He runs down the rest of the stairs and out the door, and he knows he just got himself kicked out of music, knows he just ruined everything.

--

From mercedes 💖, 2:04 pm:

Are you leaving?

From mercedes 💖, 2:06

Tell me when you get home. I love you

To mercedes 💖, 2:08 pm:

i will, at the park for now

From mercedes 💖, 2:10 pm:

I’ll bring your stuff around later.

To mercedes 💖, 2:10 pm:

thank you

To mercedes 💖, 2:11 pm:

i love you. i’m sorry

From mercedes 💖, 2:12 pm:

Nothing to be sorry for, just take care of yourself okay?

From mercedes 💖, 2:13 pm:

Give yourself a hug from me until I get there to do it for you

--

“Hey, kiddo, how was your day?” Burt asks as he walks in, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder who’s doing homework at the kitchen table.

“It was okay,” Kurt responds with a small but hopefully convincing smile to hide the worry eating away at him inside, because if the school’s already contacted his dad about today, about Kurt ruining his last chance…

“I gotta go again in a bit,” Burt says, taking a drink of water. “Some guy really needs a car fix by tomorrow morning, but I’ll be done by dinner.” Kurt nods, some relief flooding his veins. He turns back to his homework.

“Oh, another thing,” Burt says and Kurt stiffens again. “I wanted to come and check in with you -- I talked to a real estate agent today, and they said if we’re serious about selling the house, we need to take some pictures and stuff, clean everything… and I was wondering if you’re up for cleaning Mom’s studio?”

Kurt’s immediate surprise and hesitance must show on his face even as he tries to keep his composure, because Burt quickly assures, “It’s okay if you’re not ready, I promise; we have time. You know I just -- I wouldn’t even know where to start in there.”

Kurt smiles a little. “No, it’s okay,” he says. “I can try tonight.”

“Awesome.” Burt ruffles Kurt’s hair, which from anyone else other than maybe Mercedes would not end particularly well, but Kurt just laughs and tries to brush the loose strands out of his eyes. “I’ll see you later, Kurt. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

Kurt exhales slowly as his dad leaves again.

Cleaning out the studio means having to confront exactly what he’s tried to avoid for a year. The disaster that was music class today doesn’t make him feel better about it… but at least this time he’ll be alone -- none of the pressure of having to live up to the standards of well-meaning teachers or aggressive ex-best friends, none of the pressure of having to play at all, especially from the competitive nature at school. And… maybe he needs it.

Moving from here will only help you move on. Kurt’s aunt’s words echo in his mind. A part of him recoils at the idea of leaving his childhood home -- leaving the spaces his mom used to inhabit and her light and energy used to fill to the brim -- and starting over, someplace where there are none of those memories… he can’t tell if that’s a good thing. It feels like more of the running away that he’s been doing for a year, and he wonders if it really will solve anything.

But maybe he does need it. If staying in this house for the last year hasn’t helped, a change would be good, right?

Turning back to his work, he takes a deep breath and starts planning dinner in his head. He’ll tackle the studio after dinner’s ready.

--

To Dad, 7:39 pm:

dinner’s done, i’ll be in the studio

Kurt takes a slow breath as he opens the doors to the garage.

It’s not that it’s his first time in the studio after his mom died -- someone had to water the plants -- but he kept any interaction with the rest of the room minimal, so it still feels different to take in the full space instead of just rushing to the plants in the back with his head down. It always came with some guilt; it felt like the least he could do to keep some life in the studio when he could barely even bring himself to enter, let alone fill it with music as it needs to be.

He walks in slowly, some apprehension tickling the back of his neck, trying to stay calm. The familiarity is almost overwhelming this time as he looks around, actually taking in the room. The guitars on the wall, the couch and table, all of his mom’s decorations and knick-knacks. The chairs on the ceiling, story told with a fond smile from his dad about his mom wanting to decorate in a fun special way even while 7 months pregnant. The plants in the back, flourishing in front of the wall of windows positioned to let in the sunrise beautifully, not that Kurt has seen it happen recently.

And the grand piano -- in the center of the room, covered with a sheet, neglected for over a year. Kurt pulls it off now absentmindedly, letting the fabric pool over his feet. He takes a deep breath even though he probably just filled the air with dust, and goes over to the bench. He doesn’t open the lid, not yet. Some sheet music is on the seat and he places it on the piano without looking, sits down and gently touches the fallboard, inhaling shakily, not opening it to reveal the keys but just… remembering what it used to be, what it used to -- still means….

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut, “that I haven’t been here.”

With his eyes closed against the dark emptiness of the room, he can almost forget. It’s too easy to think that when he opens his eyes, his mom will be there, and she’ll be writing a song with him, or she’ll be playing, or they’ll just be talking…

Before the idea can flood his mind and leave him reeling when he returns to reality, Kurt stands and looks around the room again. There really is a strangeness to the place now. What used to be so comfortable and an extension of home -- sometimes even more home than the main house -- was always warm and brimming with emotion and joy and music and life -- now cold and dark and hollow, quiet. The familiar bones have an unsettling foreign emptiness around them. It feels wrong.

It needs to be filled. But… Kurt can’t do that.

He misses his mom -- always, but it’s amplified in this space that was always hers. He misses the feeling that the studio used to bring, that spirit that is now dimmed and suppressed. Covered, but still there. He can feel it like a gentle heat behind his skin. Not bad, but overwhelming, and he just….

The loft, Kurt decides suddenly. He’ll start with the loft. There aren’t memories and emotions so confusing and thick there that he’s barely able to avoid it, to push his way through with no energy left to untangle and understand. The loft is just full of random old stuff that his mom wouldn’t throw out and his dad teased her about.

So the loft first. And then he can ease into the rest when he’s more ready. After all, his dad did say they have time.

It’s significantly dustier in the loft; old instruments and random bags full of clothes are scattered and piled across the floor, his own electric keyboard propped up against the wall. Kurt stands on the stepladder a few steps below the actual loft floor, looks around a little, his eyes landing on a CD case lying on the ground -- black with a simple stark white word design: Sunset Curve. He picks it up, eyeing it thoughtfully, brings it back down to the main floor and decides to put it into the old CD player.

He doesn’t really know why he has such an urge all of a sudden. He’s listened to some music, but not nearly as much as before, and has actually chosen to listen to music only a handful of times since his mom died.

But… the studio needs music. As an apology for a year of neglect, and as a goodbye, he can let this music redeem the studio’s spirit a little, fill what he’s left hollow.

And he doesn’t want to be alone in the silence with his memories while he’s going through everything, even just in the loft. As something completely unfamiliar and random, this can give him the distraction and none of the pain. At least, that’s the plan.

Stepping down from the loft stairs, he glances at the picture in the CD case as he opens it -- a band of four who all look like teenagers, staring seriously into the camera -- he doesn’t get a good look at them, just slides the disc into the CD player and takes a seat on the couch.

The opening song starts strong with a gritty guitar riff and a 1, 2, 3! counting the band in. Despite himself, Kurt starts nodding along to the beat. It really is a great song, unique and upbeat…

Then some kind of… panicked screaming makes itself heard, first quietly and he thinks it could be part of the song, but it crescendos and gets unbearably loud --

And then there are three strangers appearing out of thin air before his eyes, screaming as they fall to the ground heavily. Kurt would wince at the sound of the impact --

That part’s certainly unlike any CD he’s listened to before.

He’s frozen, heart hammering and eyes widening as he stares at the three strangers picking themselves up off the ground, taking in their surroundings a little…

“How’d we get back here?” the middle one -- a shorter guy with black hair -- says breathlessly.

Kurt screams.

--

It’s not his finest moment, but three complete strangers just appeared in his mom’s studio, seemingly just popping into the air, and he can’t say he’s never been superstitious in his entire life or that he isn’t drawing immediate conclusions -- supernatural conclusions, fucking ridiculous conclusions. He doesn’t love that he runs into his dad on his way back into the house which may have also involved a little yelling about seeing ghosts (ghosts who screamed back, for the record), but he makes it to the safety of his room and texts Mercedes frantically, who doesn’t respond.

“Come on, Cedes,” he hisses to himself, shooting off another text. “Answer me!”

A knock from his doorway startles him and he just barely manages to hold back a shout, turning to see his dad leaning into his room hesitantly.

“You okay?”

Kurt gives him what must be a hysterical-looking attempt at a reassuring smile, all wide eyes and clenched teeth. “Yeah, no, totally fine, sorry for -- scaring you,” he replies choppily, tone not even convincing to himself. “Just, um, practicing for a school play.”

Burt definitely doesn’t believe him, but nods slowly anyway. “Well, I’m gonna go clean up -- ” He gestures over his shoulder with a grease-covered hand. “Dinner in like, ten minutes?”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Kurt says shortly, forcing another smile and a thumbs-up.

As soon as the door closes, Kurt turns back toward his window and tries to get a glance of the studio, but it’s blocked from this angle by the trees in their yard. Apprehensively, he heads back to the garage, thankfully not running into his dad this time, phone in hand and thumb hovering over Mercedes’ phone contact.

When he goes in, it’s empty; no sign of anything out of the ordinary happening.

He scans the space warily, feeling jumpy and nervous, but nothing happens and he mumbles, “I know I saw something, I’m not crazy.”

He hears a soft popping noise and then, “Well, we’re all a little crazy,” from behind him and he turns with a sharp gasp.

“Oh, my god, who are you?” Kurt yells, maybe a little too loud because the black-haired boy winces slightly and all three of them step back a little. “What the hell are you doing in my mom’s studio?”

“Your mom’s studio?” the black-haired guy scoffs. “This is our studio!”

The tall blonde guy bounces forward. “Yeah, like, the piano’s new, but -- ” He looks to the right and his face lights up. “My couch!” he calls, running over and jumping straight onto it.

The girl -- hair black and in braids -- rolls her eyes. “Not your couch, Sam.”

The blonde -- Sam? -- sits up indignantly, stabbing a finger in the cushions. “Hey, I spent more time on this couch than any of you. Pretty sure it’s mine at this point.”

Kurt just watches them with wide eyes, jaw hanging open, with absolutely no idea what to do.

“But these aren’t our instruments,” the black-haired guy says warily, looking around. At some point he and the girl have linked arms, Kurt notices. He watches as they all take in the studio, faces getting increasingly confused and worried. Kurt raises an eyebrow that apparently can go higher than it already is.

“Because… it’s my mom’s studio…” he manages to say again, mind still whirling at the hurricane of new and completely nonsensical information.

“Can you just -- give us a minute?” Sam says, jumping over the coffee table to join his friends. They turn away to talk in a huddle, and Kurt stands awkwardly as they talk in failed attempts at hushed tones.

--

Tina’s trying to ignore the pounding of her possibly-only-theoretical heart -- she’s dead, how can she even feel a heartbeat -- as she watches Blaine and Sam talk to the… living person in front of them. Sam makes his usual comment about “his couch” and Tina snarks back with her usual response and it gives her some comfort, some familiarity even in this studio which should feel like home, has for so long, and it still does to an extent, but everything here is suddenly different.

The comment does send the strange boy’s attention back to her, though, which she doesn’t really like. Blaine wraps an arm around hers and she squeezes his forearm in gratitude. He did that a lot when they were alive -- knew how and when to offer her his touch to reassure her a little.

At least there’s something that’s still the same.

At least her boys are still the same.

She tries to focus on Blaine’s arm in hers, on Sam’s dumb comments as he comes bounding back to them, hissing, “Guys, what is going on here?”

Tina shrugs. Blaine whispers, “Who is he?”

“He can hear you,” the person in question says pointedly from behind them, but Sam ignores him and says, “Maybe he’s a witch.” He looks up, pointing. “There are chairs on the ceiling.”

“There’s no such thing as witches,” Tina hisses.

“Are you sure?” Sam shoots back. “Because I used to think there was no such thing as ghosts!”

Tina swallows. “That’s fair.”

“So we’re going with witch?” Blaine asks.

“No!” Tina waves her hands at both of them. “No, come on. You guys are just -- he’s probably just overwhelmed, okay? Let someone with a softer touch handle this.”

Maybe “softer touch” wasn’t the right phrase to use in this instance, she thinks, but she really just wants answers and figures she might as well be straightforward. “Why are you in our studio?” she asks, maybe a little too aggressively, stepping up to the alive stranger.

He looks down with a shocked expression and Tina realizes she accidentally got close enough to touch him -- or… pass her hand through his, partially. They both watch as he brings his hand through hers again. It’s a weird feeling -- warm and kind of tingly, or like she’s putting her hand through water.

“Oh my god,” he says, eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

Tina raises their eyebrows a little. “Okay, clearly you don’t -- clearly, he doesn’t get it,” she says, addressing the guys behind her. She turns back to the stranger, gesturing to herself and the others as she explains, “We’re ghosts. We’re just three ghosts, and we’re really happy to be home, so… thank you for the flowers; they really brighten up the room.” She tries to smile at him.

“We’re actually in a band called Sunset Curve,” Blaine pipes up, stepping up to flank her on the left.

“Tell your friends!” chimes Sam on her right.

“Last night was a really big night for us,” Blaine says, a little sadly. “It was gonna change our lives.”

Tina whispers, “Uh, I’m pretty sure it did.” Blaine huffs and elbows her gently.

“This is freaking me out,” the stranger says, shaking his head as he takes something from his pocket.

“What is that; what are you doing?” Blaine asks.

Alive Stranger looks up, fingers still touching the face of the object. “It’s my phone -- nope, stop talking to them! There’s no such thing as cute ghosts,” he says, seemingly to himself.

Sam gasps. “Think we’re cute?” He raises an eyebrow, making one of his insufferable Sam faces; Tina almost laughs.

The boy looks up again with wide eyes, gaze flitting to each of them as if watching for a reaction, swallowing and going back to his phone.

“Who’re you calling?” Tina asks, trying to see the side facing him because that doesn’t look like any phone she’s ever seen.

“I’m googling Sunset Swerve.”

“Sunset Curve!” Blaine, Sam, and Tina correct him at the same time, Sam drawing a curve in the air with his finger.

The stranger laughs nervously, staring at them with wide eyes and then back at his phone. “Okay… so there is a Sunset Curve.” He swallows again. “You guys did die. But not last night.” Tina’s stomach drops a little; Blaine and Sam get closer.

“Twenty-five… years ago,” the boy finishes, a confused look in his eyes.

Tina barely has time to register this before Sam says, “That’s impossible. All we did after we floated out of the car was go to that weird dark room where Tina cried.”

Her mouth drops open. “I wasn’t -- I -- we -- ” she squeaks, voice jumping up an octave. “I think we were all pretty upset,” she says, but she supposes Sam is right.

He pats her back and doesn’t have a chance to respond again because Blaine steps in, “That was just for, like, an hour, though. We just showed up here.” Tina and Sam nod.

“Look,” the living one says, finally turning his “phone” toward them. They lean forward to see a screen with a photo of them -- and Artie, Tina thinks distantly; she feels his absence acutely and it spikes through her chest -- taken for their summer tour, and a bunch of small text around it that she can’t read, a bold headline at the top reading, Sunset Curve: A Hollywood Tragedy. “I’m just telling you what my phone says,” he explains. “You guys died in 1995. It’s now 2020.”

“So this is the future?” Sam asks incredulously as the boy pulls his phone back. Something else sticks out in Tina’s mind, though.

“So -- it has been twenty-five years,” she says, pausing to gather her thoughts. “I have been crying for twenty-five years -- how is that possible?!”

“You’re a very emotional person,” Sam reasons.

“I am not!” she insists, but the tears already pressing in the back of her throat want to prove otherwise. Distantly, she reminds herself that she’s with her friends who’ve seen it all and she doesn’t need to hold back, but the presence of this complete stranger also overrides the ease of her relationship with the guys. Sam rubs a comforting hand over her shoulder, and she swallows the tears down.

Alive Stranger shakes his head. “I gotta go… eat dinner,” he says slowly. He turns back around once he’s walked past the three of them and says, “Look, I’m really sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn’t your studio anymore. You have to leave.”

“But we -- ” Blaine starts, starting to go forward but a sharp glare stops him and he clears his throat. “We didn’t even get your name.”

“It’s Kurt,” the stranger snaps.

“Cool, I’m -- Blaine,” Blaine says hesitantly. “And this is…”

“Sam, hey.”

“Tina, how’s it going…”

“Ba-da,” Blaine sings weakly, gesturing his hands in front of them like he’s presenting them to Kurt.

They all watch for Kurt’s reaction, but he just sighs and leaves the studio. He leaves the doors open, probably to remind them that they technically just got kicked out of their studio -- or, Kurt’s mom’s studio -- someone’s studio, but really it’s been their home for so long…

“Kurt seems nice,” Sam says cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Tina turns to him. “Did you miss the part where he kicked us out, or…” she says drily. Sam shrugs, a hint of a smirk on his face. “Okay,” Tina mutters, turning to wander around the studio some more. If they’re going to be kicked out, she wants to spend as much more time as she can here.

--

Kurt’s mind is a storm. He doesn’t know where to start with this new information -- with an evening that took such a sharp turn from reminiscing and sad and somewhat painful into just… something so completely different and unexpected.

Dinner Kurt can do. He can put the craziness of ghosts aside because dinner is easy, dinner is simple; dinner is important.

His dad has already set everything out so Kurt takes his seat across from him, sending a not-completely-true nvm everything’s fine, sorry for worrying you text to Mercedes, who finally got back to him at some point when he was distracted…

Distracted talking to ghosts.

“How’s it going?” Burt asks as he sits down and it takes Kurt a second to remember he must be talking about cleaning the studio, and not actually about ghost musicians.

Ghosts don’t exist. There are no ghosts in the garage. Don’t think about ghosts.

“It’s good,” Kurt says, poking at his food a little. “I’m starting with the loft.”

Burt smiles. “Those old instruments need a home.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, returning the smile. “Mom would like that.”

The instruments probably belong to some ghosts, Kurt realizes, but… nothing he can really do about that. And that’s if the ghosts can even touch objects.

They eat in comfortable silence for a while and then Burt sets down his fork. Kurt looks up apprehensively.

“So I got an email from the school today,” he starts. Kurt fiddles with his fork and drops his gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay, Kurt, I’m not mad,” Burt promises.

You should be, Kurt thinks -- all that money spent for him to audition for and attend the music program, and for private lessons and sheet music and piano maintenance, just for him to throw it all away.

“I know those classes can be hard,” his dad says, and Kurt almost can’t take his gentle tone, feels guilty about it even though he appreciates it. “But… you still like music, don’t you?”

Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe?”

“I know the memories are hard, believe me, Kurt. But, every time I see you, I see Mom, you know? And I love that, I really do. Maybe, if you give yourself a chance, you can, too.” Kurt looks up hesitantly to see his dad’s gentle, loving expression and eyes slightly glassy with tears. Looking down again, he swallows, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I will. I’ll try.”

Because what he said to Mercedes earlier on the staircase is true, but… he’ll always try harder for his dad.

“It’s okay, Kurt,” Burt assures him. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Kurt smiles and almost starts eating again, but music suddenly blares from outside, startling both of them, Kurt barely holding back a loud swear.

“What is that?” Burt says, getting up but Kurt rushes to reassure him, saying quickly, “I must have just left the CD player on in the garage! It’s fine, I’ll go get it!”

He runs back to the studio where the ghosts are still there apparently, and have somehow gotten instruments from the loft and set everything up to start playing, and play really loudly -- and it honestly sounds good but Kurt can’t focus on that because they’re going to disturb the entire neighborhood and get the cops called on them for a noise complaint and what is he supposed to say -- no officer, it was just the three ghosts in the garage being idiots, sorry?

Kurt yells for them to stop but it’s useless; he can barely even hear himself over how incredibly loudly they’re playing. Blaine, on an electric guitar that Kurt remembers seeing in the loft, turns and sees Kurt, walking towards him and finally playing one last chord when Kurt makes a horizontal cutting motion with his hand, and Sam, on the bass, follows, Tina playing one last short drum roll, looking up with a wide grin.

They all look… alive, Kurt thinks, despite literally being dead, so different from the confusion he left them with -- relaxed and loose and faces lit up, the energy flowing through them almost visible. If he didn’t know they were ghosts and made of air, he’d expect to be able to reach out and feel them, breaths hot and fast from the exertion and adrenaline, skin warm and slightly sweaty, hearts beating strong like the steady percussion of their band.

It reminds him of how music used to make him feel.

“Cut it out!” Kurt snaps, trying not to raise his voice too much. “The whole neighborhood could hear you! I thought I told you to leave!”

Blaine looks back at his bandmates, bewildered. “People -- people can hear us play?”

“Yes!” Kurt says exasperatedly. “My dad heard you from inside!”

“… What did he think?” Blaine asks after a moment. Kurt opens his mouth for an irritated response --

“Everything okay in here?”

Kurt whips around to see his dad in the doorway and smiles with wide eyes. “Yeah! I just -- had to turn off the CD player,” he lies.

People have told Kurt before that he’s a good liar; he really hopes that’s true after the evening he’s had -- he's having.

Burt’s attention is elsewhere, though, seemingly forgetting about the chaos from just a moment earlier. “Wait, is this the junk that was in the loft?” he says, excitedly eyeing the instruments and… the ghosts that he can’t see.

“Junk?” Blaine exclaims. Tina stands up, her eyes on Burt, drumsticks gripped tightly in one hand.

They all watch apprehensively as Burt weaves through the instruments, even going so far as to rattle Tina’s cymbals and tap the drums, much to her horror. She fixes Kurt with wide, urgent eyes, to which Kurt just shrugs and gives her a helpless look. Hey Dad, actually, the ghost drummer wants you to stop, so…

“Hey, this stuff’s in pretty good shape,” Burt says excitedly. “Maybe we can make a couple bucks, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees weakly, mostly just watching as Tina fails to push Burt away from the drums.

“I like the song you had on,” Burt says, finally stepping away from the instruments. Tina rubs down a cymbal with her sleeve.

“Sweet! We’re Sunset Curve,” Blaine pipes up.

“Tell your friends!” Sam says, to a fond eye-roll from Tina.

“It’s just an old CD I found,” Kurt says, ripping his attention from the ghosts.

“Well, it’s nice that you’re listening to music again,” Burt says sincerely. “Out here, you can play whatever you want, whenever you want.” He waves his hands out on either side for emphasis, going through Sam and Blaine’s bodies. Kurt chuckles weakly.

“Oh,” Sam says, looking down at where Burt’s hand was in his stomach just a moment before. “That’s nice.”

“Stay out of this,” Kurt hisses.

“Sorry, Kurt, I’m just trying to help -- ”

“Oh! No, not you, Dad,” Kurt says quickly. For fuck’s sake -- “Just -- just give me a minute -- ” He starts pulling his dad toward the door. Burt stops him and says, “Hey, we’re gonna figure out this music program thing, okay?”

“Thanks, Dad,” Kurt says with a smile, and gestures for him to leave.

Once Burt is out of sight, he turns back to the ghosts.

“Wait -- ” Tina waves her drumsticks around a little. “So -- only you can see us, but everyone can hear us?” Kurt nods in confirmation. “What kind of ghosts are we?” Tina says.

“Who cares, dude!” Sam says, stepping up to Tina’s drum kit with a grin. “People can hear us play!” The three exchange fist-bumps as Blaine says happily, “We might be dead, but our music isn’t.”

“And Kurt’s dad likes our music!” Sam cheers.

“He’s a dad, it doesn’t count,” Tina mumbles, smiling and pushing Sam playfully when he turns to her with an offended look.

Confusion and annoyance bubble up inside Kurt along with something like anger at, just, all of it and he groans and says loudly, “Why can’t you guys just be normal ghosts? You know, go hang out at an old mansion or something! I hear Pasadena’s nice!” and turns to leave, slamming the door on his way out.

He just… has had too much going on today. He needs to -- ignore his homework and the problem with school and maybe just sleep in for the next two days. That would be really nice.

He’s so caught up in his head and he jumps and yells when a ghost appears in front of him with no warning.

“Don’t do that!” Kurt exclaims.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Blaine says quickly. “ -- You do know how rad this is though, right? People -- people can hear us play!”

“Yeah, good for you,” Kurt replies, a little too harshly. “It’s just that I’ve had a really, really, awful day. I’ve gotta go.”

He walks past Blaine just to turn around again when he says, “I’m really sorry you had a bad day.” Kurt nods; he can tell Blaine wants to say more, so he waits.

Blaine continues slowly, “I just… three ghosts just found out they had a bad twenty-five years, and then they find out that the one thing they lived for in the first place, they can still do. So you can kick us out, but -- we’re not giving up music. We can play again; that’s a gift no musician would ever turn down,” he says earnestly, eyes wide and almost pleading.

That hurts in Kurt’s chest a little more than it should and he looks down again to avoid the passion and excitement shining clearly in Blaine’s eyes, in his voice, in his words. He swallows down the feeling that statement unearths inside of him, but suddenly his bad day is at the forefront of his mind again -- his bad year.

That’s a gift no musician would ever turn down … some musician he is, then. But he already knew that.

Blaine says softly, “You’ve gotta know that. Clearly your mom is into music.”

Kurt swallows. “Was,” he says, monotone and quiet. “She passed away.”

He hates that it’s become easier to say; he wants to either spit the words out or break down sobbing but he manages to keep his voice steady. (In the back of his mind, he wonders why he just told that to a random ghost he just met. Maybe he’s just going crazy. He’s literally talking to ghosts, after all.)

Blaine’s face falls. “I -- I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Yeah, we -- we didn’t know,” Sam says quietly. He and Tina have also left the studio, standing on the other side of the low wall separating the garage area from the pathway back to the house. They look up with sympathetic eyes and Kurt looks away from them too -- can’t meet any of their wide, well-meaning gazes right now.

“It’s fine,” he dismisses. “Sorry I got mad.” The ghosts are thankfully looking at each other now, seemingly silent conversation passing between their glances. “You guys are pretty good,” Kurt says, trying to change the subject and lighten the atmosphere.

Blaine raises an eyebrow, turning his gaze back to Kurt. “‘Pretty good’? You know that’s just, like, 25 years of rust being dusted off, right?”

“Do you play, too?” Tina asks.

“No, no, I don’t play.” It’s not exactly a lie anymore but it scrapes in Kurt’s throat with his haste to answer. “That’s all my mom’s stuff in there.”

“She’s an amazing songwriter,” Blaine says.

“Yeah, she was,” Kurt answers. “Wait… how do you know?”

Blaine opens his mouth, glancing at the others for a second. “We found a song on the piano,” he says. “If it’s hers… your mom was really talented.”

Kurt nods. She really, really was.

He feels like he doesn’t have the energy to say it again, so he just stays quiet. Somewhat awkwardly, he turns to leave, sensing the end of the conversation and part of him desperately wanting to just leave and not have to see these ghosts again….

So Kurt surprises even himself when he pauses and turns back to face them. “I guess,” he starts, and their gazes snap back up to him. “If you need a place to stay… you can stay in there.” He nods toward the studio and the ghosts’ faces light up. Kurt can’t help but smile back. “There’s a couch that turns into a bed, and in the back there’s a bathroom with a shower, if you still need any of that stuff.”

“Awesome!” Sam exclaims quietly, earning an elbow in the side and a questioning look from Tina. “What? Dude, I just really like showers,” he defends.

Tina rolls her eyes. Kurt takes a breath, raising his hands to gesture vaguely at the three of them. “This is just… too weird.” He nods to himself, finally leaving this time, leaving the ghosts to… do what they will.

The fact that there are ghosts in his mom’s studio…. Maybe there’s a chance that Mom knows them -- sent them, he thinks… but decides to not get his hopes up. She’s gone and he needs to just keep it at that.

What he really wants is to tell Mercedes, but he doesn’t know how.

What would you say if I told you there were three ghosts living in my mom’s studio? Kurt thinks on his way back to his room.

You’d say I’m crazy.

--

It’s some point in the night; they figured out that they don’t need to sleep -- can’t sleep, it seems like, which is honestly really annoying in Tina’s opinion because they’re ghosts with literally nothing to do for too many hours at a time -- so they’re just hanging out in the studio, with the lights outside giving them a little visibility through the garage windows, but it’s kind of nice to just sit in the dark.

Tina has been on the couch with Sam, lying on their backs, heads in opposite directions, legs pressed up against each other. Sam’s bass is unplugged, laid on his stomach and extending over Tina’s legs. He plucks out notes and Tina accompanies with a soft beat using just her hands and body parts as instruments. Sometimes it’s a familiar bassline -- a Sunset Curve song rehearsed or performed or recorded before -- and they also hum the harmonies that they know, and sometimes they improvise -- Tina storing the good bits in her mind for a future writing session.

Blaine is in the loft where they hoped a light could be on and maybe go unnoticed. Tina assumes that he’s writing; he always was when they were alive. And of course, now he has 25 years of dark room and relative nothingness to catch up on writing about.

It feels like another quiet night from when they were alive, each of them with an excuse to escape their homes for the night, and they’d all crash here, filling the studio with soft music and noise. Blaine would stay up writing and sometimes singing while Sam and Tina (and Artie) would try to sleep, telling him to stop humming, or, since the main house inhabitants who would care about the noise were rarely there, they would sometimes join along with him and make it a Sunset Curve midnight rehearsal.

They’ve never had the best sleep schedules anyway.

Tina giggles quietly as she and Sam play into nothingness, both parts running uncontrolled and unable to get back on track. They both stop and Sam starts playing a familiar line -- parts they’d worked out before with bass, drums, and both guitars, but never actually put into a song. Tina waits for a moment to come in with her part.

She’s nearly startled off the couch when Blaine poofs down beside the couch with his guitar and starts his part. Tina starts laughing -- probably too loud but they’re pretty sure only their music can be heard anyway -- and slides off the couch to sit on the ground, picking the drumming back up on her legs.

“You guys wanna check out this teleportation thing?” Blaine asks, playing the challenging guitar riff meant for electric guitar messily on his acoustic without a pick.

Sam sits up and puts his bass to the side. “Absolutely,” he says. “Where’re we going?”

“I have an idea,” Blaine says, setting his guitar down. He pulls Tina up and extends a hand out for Sam. “I think I can take you guys with me.”

“What?” Tina squeaks, but a second later, she’s sitting far above the ground, outside, on top of the marquee of the Orpheum. “Oh my god,” she mutters, looking down dizzily at the people passing by on the sidewalk. Her body tingles with a weird uncomfortable energy for just a few seconds before it fades.

“Yes!” Blaine laughs, kicking his legs up excitedly. “I mean, I know being a ghost isn’t our first choice, but it sure is easy getting around!”

“Easy for you, maybe!” Sam cries on Blaine’s other side. “I lost my shirt on that one!”

Tina looks over and sure enough, Sam is shirtless. She stifles a laugh behind her hand. “Like that’s a concern,” she pipes up, but Sam’s shirt appears right as she says it. They all laugh and sit in silence for a moment.

“So why’d you bring us here?” Tina asks, looking out across Hollywood Boulevard, the new and old buildings and shops, the people and cars of the future. The light of the Orpheum’s neon sign shines in her periphery, same as it did on a night twenty-five years ago. “Just another reminder of where we never got to play,” she says wryly, turning to face Blaine on her left, patting his shoulder. “Thanks, Blaine.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I’m telling you guys, it’s not over yet!” Tina reappears on the sidewalk right below them, almost losing her balance and falling through a person walking past. She shoots a glare at Blaine for teleporting them with no warning again, but he just grins back and starts down the sidewalk, Sam following. “Let’s see how many places we can play tonight, yeah? Check out the music scene of the future? And no trouble getting into those clubs anymore!”

Tina laughs, falling into step with them. She watches Sam walk straight through someone going in the opposite direction and doesn’t realize someone is in her way, which shouldn't be a problem, until she bumps into them.

She feels them.

“Hey!” she says involuntarily, turning to see who it was -- another ghost? A tall man with a cape and top hat nods at her with an acknowledging and almost menacing gleam in his eye, then turns again and walks away.

He could see her, he could touch her -- he has to be another ghost, right?

“Tina, you coming?” Sam calls. She swallows and takes one last look, the other ghost having disappeared among the other people on the sidewalk, before turning and running to catch back up with the guys.

“I just ran into someone,” she says, a little breathless -- she doesn’t know if that’s from running, which she doesn’t think she can actually get breathless from, or the fact that she ran into someone.

“Another ghost?” Blaine says.

“I mean, it has to be, right? Uh, Kurt -- Kurt can see us but he can’t touch us…”

“And his dad couldn’t either,” Sam adds.

“It must have been another ghost. He looked like a… performer, or something.” Tina wrinkles their nose a little as she remembers his whole get-up, completely out of place among what she’s seen so far of 21st century street fashion. (But then again, so is she, and her friends.)

“… I guess we’re not alone, then,” Blaine says, breaking a short bewildered silence.

“We’re never alone!” Sam exclaims, walking between them to throw his arms around Blaine and Tina’s shoulders. Tina laughs and grabs his forearm, mystery ghost forgotten for the time being.

Blaine responds with a grin, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

--

Kurt wakes up earlier than usual the next morning. He thinks he still has school -- he doesn’t know how being removed from the music program works, but no one told him not to come and besides, he does have non-music classes to keep up with, even if he doesn’t necessarily want to. He gets ready as usual, leaving breakfast out for his dad, and there’s still half an hour before Mercedes should be getting here.

Perfect. There’s something he needs to try by himself… for himself.

He heads out to the studio with his things, a fluttering feeling in his stomach, but it’s different from the feeling before he tried to play in class yesterday, like the butterflies had turned to stone and were rolling around inside him, weighing him down and making him nauseous. This time it’s promising, hopeful, familiar -- butterflies fluttering normally, peacefully.

The room is empty when Kurt pushes the doors open and drops his backpack by the entrance.

“Guys?” he calls hesitantly, to no response.

He wonders if he should be worried about where the ghosts might be, or relieved for if they really did leave after all, since that is what he wanted… but he realizes relief is not at all what he feels at that possibility.

But if the ghosts aren’t here, then all the better for what he wants to do, so he decides to ignore their absence for now.

Kurt walks up to the grand piano in the middle of the room, thinking. There’s something… something deep loosening in his chest -- something about Blaine and the others and their intense passion for music that is so different from the intense judgment and competition at school that made it so impossible for him to play yesterday.

The way Blaine had talked about music…

The one thing they lived for in the first place -- they can still do.

A gift.

Kurt spreads out the sheet music that he found yesterday, just placed on the piano lid without a glance and it’s still there, so Blaine and the others must have just taken a look at it. He recognizes his mother’s handwriting, achingly familiar and beautiful in a minimalistic way, the neat notes and lyrics, clean and legible even without the help of staff lines. His heart stutters and he gasps a little as he reads some of it -- he recognizes the song. Something his mom told him she was writing when she got sick.

Kurt used to be so involved in her songwriting, but as she got worse and Kurt grew away from the piano (and from his voice), he never asked about this song.

She’d finished it.

Here’s the one thing I want you to know, you got someplace to go…

And he needs to hear it.

His fingers tremble slightly as he places them gingerly on the keys over the starting notes of the song. It feels completely different than it did yesterday; he doesn’t know if it’s the lack of teacher and students watching, the insanity of yesterday evening in between, the song itself… but the stones turned back into butterflies and it almost feels like it did before….

He wants to play, to make music. For the first time in a year, he actually feels like he can. And he needs to.

And if -- when -- it unlocks the memories… he thinks he’s ready.

Kurt takes a deep breath and plays.

[luciferloser]

Brothers reacting to an insecure MC

Lucifer

Hearing a knock at your door, you quickly pulled your shirt down from where you were scrutinising yourself in front of your mirror. Turning around, you saw Lucifer leaning against your doorframe, with his arms folded. For a brief moment, neither of you said anything. You began to shift slightly under his intense gaze as he strolled into your room to where he was standing right in front of you. “MC, I don’t care how much you weigh, or where your weight is more prominent, you’re beautiful both inside and out.” You opened your mouth to argue with him, but he quickly pressed his index finger to your lips.

“Don’t interrupt me, I’m not finished. As I was saying, you must be beautiful both physically and personality-wise if you managed to make me fall for you.” It wasn’t often Lucifer expressed his feelings for you, which is why his confession meant that much more to you. Burying your face into his chest, you whispered softly, “thank you.”

Mammon

Mammon was lounging in the living room on his DDD when you walked in. Feeling particularly bold, because none of his brother’s were around to torment him, he pulled you onto his lap just as you went to sit down beside him. You yelped as you crash landed on him, immediately going to stand up again. “Oi oi, where are you going? You should be grateful I wanted you to sit on MY lap!” he whined, wrapping his arms around you to keep you in place.

“I’m too heavy Mammon...” you murmured, gently trying to pry his arms off you.

“Huh? No you ain’t, remember I’m a demon. Besides, who told you you’re too heavy to sit on their lap? I’ll give ‘em a piece of my mind!” he muttered angrily, pushing his nose into your neck gently. “Anyways, let’s make the most of having the room to ourselves before one of my brothers comes in, you’re fine where you are.” he mumbled, his cheeks heating up; not that he would ever tell you that.

Leviathan

Sitting in Levi’s room playing a multiplayer game, both your DDD’s buzzed with a text alert. Waiting until the round was over, you unlocked your device to see it was this week’s popularity contest results. “Good afternoon everybody. We decided to mix things up this week by changing the criteria to attractiveness. In tenth place, Leviathan, ninth place, Barbatos...” Levi trailed off as he continues to read the rest of the results in his head.

“I didn’t even make the list...” You signed, locking the phone and moving to stand up.

“Hey where are you going? MC, wait! Don’t let that stupid list upset you, you should know you’re worth way more than what those stupid normies think anyways.” Levi declared, not being able to meet your eyes towards the end of his confession.

“You really think so?” you murmured, taking a seat next to him once more.

“Duh. I don’t just let anybody hang out with me. Especially in my own room.” He smiled gently, handing you your controller once more.

Satan

You and Satan were reading in his room, quietly enjoying each other’s company when you managed to spill tea down your shirt. Muttering curse words, you leapt to your feet.

“Not to sound like a pervert, but you should take your shirt off before you burn yourself.” Satan suggested, moving to help you take it off.

Hugging yourself, you began to back away as Satan reached out to you. “No it’s okay, I’ll go and get changed in my room.” You whispered, turning to leave.

Eyes lighting up in understanding, Satan headed to his closet, returning with one of his sweaters. “I apologise if I made you uncomfortable, MC. However, if it’s any help to you, I think you look absolutely stunning all the time. I’ll let you get changed.” His eyes crinkled as rubbed your arm gently. Feeling your cheeks heat up as he left, you mumbled “damnit Satan.”

Asmodeus

Sighing to yourself, you knocked on Asmo’s door, shuffling from foot to foot. Tilting his head, Asmo took in the sight of you in front of his door. “MC, my dear, you know you don’t have to knock! You are always welcome.” he reassured softly; sensing something was bugging you. “Come in, I was just about to try out some new skin care products!”

“Actually, that’s what I came here for. I just haven’t been feeling that great about my skin lately and-” you began to ramble as Asmo pulled you to him.

“Oh sweetie, why didn’t you say so sooner! I have just the products for you! You’ll be feeling like the god/goddess you are in no time!” Asmo exclaimed, taking your face in his palms tenderly. “I know I talk about being beautiful a lot all the time but when I say you are one of the most stunning people I have ever met, I truly do mean it.”

Beelzebub

Beel was busy raiding the kitchen as you sat on the counter with your DDD in hand. “Hey MC do you want some of this scream cheese chowder?”

“Ah, no thank you Beel. Keep it for yourself.” you uttered, briefly glancing up at him.

“Is it poisonous? I could’ve sworn this one wasn’t, what about this seaweed soup? This one’s delicious! You won’t be disappointed.” he grinned enthusiastically.

“No no, I’m okay, watching you enjoy your food is enough for me.” you said, hopping off the counter.

“But MC, you barely touched your dinner.” Beel frowned, stepping in front of the doorway to stop you leaving the kitchen. “Maybe I’m reading this all wrong and you just don’t have much of an appetite today, but I think you look great as you are.” He confessed, glancing down at you with what can only be described as pure adoration.

Throwing yourself at the soft redhead, you whispered into his chest “Thank you Beel, I really needed to hear that.”

Belphegor

You woke up to find yourself curled up with Belphie in his bed. Glancing down, you noticed that your shirt had risen up in your sleep. In your haste to pull it back down, you threw Belphie’s arm off from where it had rested across your waist. Sitting up in indignation, Belphie asked as he yawned, “What’s up with you?”

Seeing as you were both awake, there was no point in going back to sleep; it was already gone 10am anyways. Peeling back the covers, you also sat up. “Nothing, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Hm, well anyways, your shirt rode up last night, I thought you looked quite cute.” he stayed nonchalantly.

“You noticed, and thought it was cute?” you quizzed, genuine shock flitting across your face.

“Well why wouldn’t I? To me you’ll always be cute, knowing how different we are in strength. I guess what I’m trying to say is, if you feel embarrassed about your tummy; you have no reason to. Just means there’s more of you to cuddle.” Belphie announced, curling back up with his pillow. “Now come back to bed for a bit, I’m still tired.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

I think i’ll make a second part for this, with the undateables responses. Feel free to send in requests or just to chat to me!

[tothemeadow]

‘to see you smile’ / Tomioka G. x Reader

That’s sweet of you, hun! Thank you!

Also, this request is adorable 💕💕💕

warnings: none :)

words: 1,177

-

To break through the ice.

That’s all you want.

But with someone as stoic as Giyuu, breaking through that barrier is a challenge in itself. Try again and again as you might – you weren’t making any progress. It’s infuriating, to say the least.

Even people as obnoxious as Sanemi and Kyojuro can barely get a rise out of him. Sure, everybody’s used to Giyuu’s expression not faltering. Some say that’s the primary reason why he doesn’t have many friends.

You like Giyuu, you really do. Hell, you’d even go the lengths and say you love him. You know he’s all soft and mushy underneath that rigid shell of his; you just have to get to it. Giyuu understands that it’s okay to let someone in, right? The entire world isn’t against him.

Somehow, though, you know that this isn’t the case. Merely looking into his lifeless eyes tells you everything you need to know. Something happened to this poor man and left him as a pathetic shell of his former self. You wonder how he acted as a kid, if he chased after fireflies and graced the world with his laughter.

It almost makes you cry, thinking like that. Everybody deserves happiness, Giyuu included. With demons roaming the world, happiness is something rare to come by, especially amongst your fellow demon slayers. You want to grant Giyuu that happiness. Nobody else you know is attempting to do it. Shame on them for shunning one of their own, even if he likes solitude. Too much of it can drive a person mad.

“You know, Giyuu,” you say to him one day, “I think you’re really strong.”

With the sun high in the bright blue sky, it’s safe to say that it’s a perfect day. Giyuu’s inky hair shines with a healthy glow; the same could be said about his skin. It’s fascinating, really. His beauty is unique, rivals a winter’s day, yet it’s so… sorrowful. His eyes won’t give the slightest hint to what he’s thinking.

“We all are,” he simply mutters. “We have to be if we want to win.”

He’s not wrong. With all of the rigorous training you and the rest of the pillars have gone through, being weak is not an option. But you didn’t mean it that way.

Embarrassment crawls up your spine. Okay, so direct compliments may not be the way to go.

You clear your throat and try again. “I mean… I really respect you, Tomioka-san. You’re amazing.”

Again, all he does is blink. Does he really not get compliments? Or does he simply not like them?

“I respect you as well,” Giyuu says. He ends your short-lived conversation with a curt nod before taking off.

Sadly, that wasn’t your only attempt at trying to get a reaction out of the guy. A mere smile would suffice at this point. Your plans vary; you compliment him, tell him jokes (which he doesn’t seem to impressed by), hell, you even embarrass yourself in front of the others just to see what he’ll do.

It’s so utterly hopeless that you begin to lose faith in yourself. “Tomioka-san” this, “Tomioka-san” that. At times, he seems bothered by your constant poking. You know he prefers to keep to himself, but come on. You’re trying your absolute best here.

It’s in pure desperation when you turn to Mitsuri for advice. She’s always been extremely popular with the boys, so you hope she can help you in your quest.

“Oh my gods, you like Giyuu-san? That’s so cute!” she gushes after you reveal your secret.

Wincing, you glance your surroundings for any potential eavesdroppers. “Not so loud, Mitsuri,” you caution your friend, “I don’t want everybody hearing about it.” Especially Shinobu and Sanemi. They’d only give you hell for it.

“Have you told him yet?” Mitsuri chirps. Her face is flushed in a delicate shade of pink. She really is the Love Pillar, isn’t she?

You shake your head. “He’s not the type of person you can easily confess your feelings to…”

Mitsuri hastily waves her hands. “Nonsense! You just have to believe in yourself! I mean, look at you! You’re so pretty! And strong! Giyuu-san has to like you! I see him watching you sometimes when you’re not looking.” She sends you a wink.

Your heart flutters in your chest. “He… watches me?” Okay, so maybe there is some hope, after all.

“You can do it!” Mitsuri cheers, clapping her hands together. “Go get your man!”

Mitsuri continues to cheer after you as you slide the shoji screen open and step into the hall. That is, until you accidentally collide into someone’s chest.

A surprised squeak erupts from your mouth and your eyes dart up to meet Giyuu’s. His expression is as stoic as always; you feel your soul escaping your body. How long had he been standing out here?

“Tomioka-san,” you breathe.

“Can I… Can I talk to you? Privately?”

You stare up at him. Did he just stutter. Did the Tomioka Giyuu stutter?

Feebly, you nod your head. Giyuu takes your arm in a gentle grasp and leads you further down the hall.

“Listen,” you start, mentally digging yourself a grave, “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

Still, Giyuu says nothing.

You press on, your emotions building up in your chest and pushing themselves out. Whether you liked it or not, the truth was going to reveal itself. “I didn’t know what to do. I just really, really wanted to see you smile.”

Giyuu comes to an abrupt stop. You clamp your mouth shut and silently curse yourself out. You’re too scared to know what he’s going to say; upon looking at his face, though, you’re entirely shocked.

Red fills his entire face, spreads to the tips of his ears and down his neck. Leaning in, you can’t believe your eyes. You’ve never seen Giyuu look this way before. It takes all of his effort to keep his own eyes off of you.

“Giyuu…?”

Gingerly, you reach up and turn his face towards you. Heat floods through the tips of your fingers as you cup his face. He inhales sharply; and, if you are being entirely honest, he looks like he’s about to pass out at any given moment.

“Do you like me?” he blurts.

You’re taken aback the sudden outburst. Shit, so he did hear you and Mitsuri talking. It’s not entirely a bad thing, but awaiting his response is.

“Yeah. I do,” you say to him, voice soft.

He lets out a shaky breath. “And… you’re not lying?”

You pry your other arm out of his grasp and cup the other side of his face. “Giyuu, if I didn’t like you, would I be doing this?” you whisper. Your heart beats a million shades of red as you press your lips to his in a feathery kiss.

He’s shaking underneath your touch.

Breaking the kiss, you pull away slightly. “Do I have to tell you again?” you ask him.

For the first time in forever, the corners of Giyuu’s lips twitch upwards.

[phantomchick]

Naruto Fic Rec Masterpost!

The Last To Know by KuriQuinn Oneshot, Gen, Teen and Up, Team Seven, Sakura and Sasuke, Sakura and Team 7, Canon Compliant, Angst with a Happy Ending, trust, broken trust, forgiveness, hurt/comfort, this fic is fantastic and made me have so many feels for the characters as well as the bonds between them, Character Dynamics,

Summary: As usual, telling her the truth happens as though by afterthought. And this time, she's not taking it.

i'll always be there for you by RecklessWriter Oneshot, Gen, Itachi and Sasuke feels, sibling feels, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, Big Brother Uchiha Itachi, a part of me niggles over team 7 failing a mission but I pretend that they ran into the hunter nin afterwards and Kakashi got the scroll back, it do be like that sometimes, Good big brother Itachi, Bad big brother Itachi, it’s complicated, Feels,

Summary:

He’s pressed against something warm. There are fingers carding gently through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Nii-san,” Sasuke whispers.

The hand in his hair freezes.

Sasuke gets thrown into a frozen lake. Itachi doesn't know how to stop being a big brother, even when he's supposed to be pretending he doesn't care.

The Beautiful Orange Thing by zafiro Oneshot, Gen, Naruto and Kurama, Naruto is a very lonely kid and the kyubi is a very lonely bijuu, Pre-Naruto Canon Era, chibi-Naruto, Naruto loves Orange, Kurama tolerates Naruto because he is Cute, sweetness and light, angst and fluff, so cute I wanna physically hug this fic to my chest

Summary: Naruto arrives at a weird place and finds something wonderful there.

Maslow by FriendshipCastle Oneshot, Gen, T for cursing, canonical child neglect, Iruka feels, Naruto feels, implied/referenced child abuse, but nothing worse than what’s in canon, angst, hurt/comfort,

Summary: The first four tiers of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Human Needs applied to Naruto’s depressing childhood. Alternatively: Iruka slowly becomes the best replacement mother a ninja could have.

take the fight from the kid by theformerone Oneshot, Gen, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Team 7, Canon Compliant, but can be read as divergent, Post Wave arc, Pre-Chuunin Exams,  

Summary: Training with his team is different than it was before the mission to Wave. Sasuke notices how things have changed.

A Clean Break by GwendolynStacy Oneshot, Gen, Teen and Up,  Hatake Kakashi and Team 7, Team as Family, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Team Fluff, Kakashi feels, Self-Harm via compulsive hand washing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Happy Ending,

Summary: Every member of Team 7 has their personal set of demons to haunt them. While Kakashi is always prepared to lend his students a listening ear, he still hasn’t quite figured out how to ask for help when he’s the one crumbling.

The Beginning and the End by QuinsValoria Oneshot, short oneshot, gen, THIS HAD ME SOBBING OVER KUSHINA AGAIN EVEN THOUGH IT’S SO SHORT, pre-canon era, angst, Dont worry kushina, Your baby makes it out just fine, cries into laptop screen, Hurt/Comfort,

Summary:

“Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.” —Robert Browning

Uzumaki Kushina is an amazing mother, even in the very short time she has left.

OR

Kushina comforts her baby.

The Prince Of Leaves And Deep Water by RayShippouUchiha Ongoing, 3 chapter fic, do you ever read a fic with language that is so pretty and evocative that you just want to lean into it, like a kid listening to a piece of folklore that’s been passed down, it’s just beautiful to read? And the words slice and cut into your feelings in the best of ways, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, Kushina feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Uzumaki Lore, well worth the read even as a stand alone should it never update again, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canonical Child Neglect, Uzushio feels,

Summary: ‘Protect him,’ Kushina prays in the quiet of her own mind as she leaves; pleading silently to the old spirits from her childhood, to the things that the Uzumaki Elders used to whisper about in hushed tones.

‘Love him,’ Kushina begs of the things she only knows from instinct and half remembered stories, those things filled with the power of salt and sun and deep deep waters.  Those things that live and thrive in the heart and soul of every Uzumaki who has ever breathed and battled and bled.  'Guide him, keep him safe for always.  But love him most of all. My little prince of eddies and leaves.’

Left behind, left alone and cold where before there was only a soft sort of warmth and a steady kind of safety, Naruto wails.

Final Evaluation by Do_the_Cool_Whip Completed, 5 Chapter Fic, Gen, Umino Iruka & The Rookie Nine, Iruka-Sensei, Feels, fluffy, I have so many emotions about Iruka being the best teacher in the elemental nations and this fic brought them all out to play, Excellence, Kakashi is a troll, a huge troll, like, he’s such a troll he’s a mountain troll, Asuma is a lesser troll, like he’s mostly decent but still infuriating so he’s a bridge troll, Kurenai is so cool that even when she’s trolling as is her right and duty as the jounin elite she is, the person she’s trolling still respects her for it, a river troll, the kids are so cute and young here, you can really feel Iruka’s affection for them, please revel in the wonderful that is this entire fic, revel I say

Summary: Progress evaluations are one-on-one consultation meetings between academy students and their teacher. Their purpose is to inform academy students of their strengths and weaknesses and guide them down their ideal path to becoming a strong shinobi. Upon graduating the academy and passing their jounin-sensei test, new genin return to the academy for one final consultation. (Or: The story of what happens when Umino Iruka uses his final meetings with his students as way to send them off to become the best shinobi they can possibly be.)

it takes a village by quillofferings Oneshot, Gen, snapshot series, angst, character insight, konoha 12, rookie 9, team Gai, team 10, team 8, team 7, repeating patterns and revelations, kinda gives a sense of the culture of a childhood in Konoha in a way that’s very quietly tragic, this story was written well before shippuden came out but it still reads mostly true to me, A Classic of the Fandom,

Summary: A Naruto snapshot series in the form of a oneshot.

spirals by nescione Gen, Oneshot, Team Seven, Generations, Team 7, Dai Nana Han, Spirals, Repeating Patterns, things happening the same across generations in repeating patterns is a big theme in the canon and lots of fic delve into it and play with the whole idea as a result, but this fic does it especially well, Team as Family, Angst, Fluff, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, A Classic of the Fandom, Summary: From the sannin to the present- a look at how history repeats itself, and how it doesn't.

this, and love too, will ruin us by RecklessWriter Oneshot, Gen, Itachi and Sasuke feels, Naruto Feels, Short and Sweet, Angst, Whump, Brother Feels, Sibling feels, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, Naruto Uzumaki Needs a Hug,

Summary: Naruto remembers the first time he saw Sasuke and Itachi.

He remembers looking at them and thinking, I wish I had someone who loved me like that.

Ten Facts About Team Yamato by Lisse Oneshot, Gen, short and sweet, Team 7 feels, Team as Family, Dai Nana Han, Team Seven, Team Yamato, characterisation, short but solid, Ficlet,

Summary: On paper, their team doesn't exist.

Troubling New Developments by SicTransitGloria Oneshot, Teen and Up, hilarious, pre-shippuden, Team as Family, Kakashi pov, Team 7, AHAHAHAHA,  Puberty hits the genin,

Summary: Kakashi takes a moment to wrap his mind around equating Ino’s chest with enemy shinobi while Asuma begins beating his head against the table and groaning about how he didn’t sign up for this. Rated for language and the general horror that is puberty

Of Harrowed Hearts by Sable_Scribe Ongoing and possibly (probably) Abandoned, Gen, Long Fic, we’re at 36 chapters in as of the time I’m posting this, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix It, Families of Choice, Team Seven, Team as Family, Bamf Kakashi, Good Teacher! Kakashi, Angst, Uzushio Lore, Fluff, Uzushio Feels, Uzumaki heritage, Bamf Team 7, BAMF Rookie Nine, Naruto's ability to make friends with giant chakra demons surfaces early, Rookie Nine, Rookie 9, Konoha 12, Naruto and Kurama,

Summary Naruto has been hearing the rumbling growl in the back of his head for as long as he can remember. He’s seven when he tries to talk to it for the first time. He’s the dead last, the failure at everything, so he doesn’t actually expect to succeed. And when he’s suddenly standing, knee deep in murky water and face to face with a demon, he has no idea what to expect. As it turns out, the world could use something unexpected.

Automatic by Dayadhvam Oneshot, Gen, Sand Siblings, Fluff, Team as Family, but also, Family as Family, Short and Sweet, A Classic of The Fandom

Summary: Gaara's shield defense is automatic: he has never had to consciously think about ordering the sand where it is needed. Kankurou and Temari have always known this.

As Is the Sea Marvelous by blackkat Mature, Gen, Eleven Chapter Fic, Warring States Era, Uchiha Madara/Senju Tobirama, Izuna Lives AU, everybody lives nobody dies, Hurt/Comfort, brotherly feels, sibling relationships, Angst With A Happy Ending, Insecurity, Self-Sacrifice, Imprisonment, Fix-It

Summary: Tobirama is willing to give absolutely anything for Hashirama and his dream. Including his life.

A Lesson In Trust by Live Gen, Oneshot, Shikamaru & Naruto friendship, academy days, trust exercise, fluff

Summary: All Iruka wants is for his class to start trusting each other, too bad Shikamaru would rather watch the clouds...

Snow Is Serious Business When Your Business Is Being A Kid by vulcanhighblood Gen, Oneshot, Iruka and Naruto, Umino Iruka is a Good Teacher, Uzumaki Naruto Needs a Hug, Fluff, Snow

Summary: Iruka's trying to teach his class, but the first snowfall of the year makes keeping their attention more difficult than he would have liked.

The Consequences of Winning by tabjoy13 Oneshot, Gen, Team 7, Protective Hatake Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi is a Good Teacher, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Feels, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Hatake Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi Is Trying, Wave Mission

Summary: Three days. It had been three days since Zabuza’s attack, since Kakashi passed out, and since Team Seven took refuge in the bridge builder’s home. Three days and Kakashi hadn’t shown a sign of stirring. Three young genin are left with the question: now what? Cross posted on FF.net.

discendo docemus by llamallamaduck Mature, Ongoing, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Trauma/Ptsd, Uchiha Sasuke-centric, Good Orochimaru, A lot of talk about depression and mental instability, Also Sharingan fuckery and assorted eye-trauma, rarepair, Itachi & Sasuke, eventual Sasuke/Ukitake, Itachi & Tsunade, 

Summary: There are some things a seven-year-old psyche is not ready to endure. An S-ranked torture technique preformed by a traumatized thirteen-year-old is one of those things. Sasuke doesn’t enjoy hallucinating memories of his murdered family day in and day out, but he’s learned to be philosophical about such things. It’s everything else that’s the problem, really.

Nidaime Otokage by DuskBeforeDawn Ongoing, inspired by nukenin, Time Travel, Dimension Travel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Protective Hatake Kakashi, BAMF Hatake Kakashi, BAMF Dai-nana-han,Team 7, Team as Family, Non-Konoha Shinobi Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi is a Troll, Kage level Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi-centric, fluff, adventure, crack, mature, fun read

Summary: No one knew him.His father was still alive.His Sharingan acted like it had always been his.Kakashi was twenty-two years in the past of a different world.

French Kissing, the End of the World, and Other Impossible Ordeals by Tsume_Yuki Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Female Uzumaki Naruto, Time Travel, Uchiha Sasuke Being an Asshole, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, Time Travel Fix-It, Smitten Uchiha Sasuke, grumpy asshole/cheerful optimist, this fic is literally just Sasuke being soft for Naruto, Mature but like it’s fiiine the author could’ve left it at teen and up and it would’ve gotten a pass at least from me

Summary: This is it, centuries of excellent genetics, of carefully selected marriages to maximise the potential of future generations and it’s going to be Sasuke who introduces idiocy to the Uchiha bloodline. The ancestors must be rolling in their graves. In which Sasuke is smitten, Naruto is a badass, and time travel happens.

No Tomorrow by Authorship Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Clan, Shisui Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Longfic, Completed, Found Family, Fix It, Mature, Time Travel, Fuck Danzo

Summary: The water was crushing, pummelling Shisui's broken form, even as it swept him further and further from Konoha. 

And then Shisui woke up.

It's two months until the day he died. Two months to change the current of his life, of his Clan, of his village. And Shisui has no intention of letting history run its course.

¦ part 1 ¦ part 2 ¦ part 3 ¦

[softlilacmoonlight]

Satan x Reader - Starving

(Y/N) pov:

Oh my gosh. I am so hungry! What am I going to do? I've been starving myself dry, and quite frankly... I can barely take it anymore! I need to come up with a solution and fast. Lately, I've been avoiding the brothers, and pretty much anyone who can breathe. While it hurts, I must do it. I can't allow myself to harm them.

Third-person pov:

Little to (Y/N)'s knowledge, everybody was currently gathered in the living room of the House of Lamentation. Some were fretting, others plotting, but they all had the same intention. They all wished to make you escape your room and return to your once-loving self.

"Whatever it is, we must help her with it," states Diavolo, expression scrunched up in worry.

Shaking his head, Belphie (surprisingly awake) pipes up, "How do we do that if she won't even talk to us?"

"We have to lure her out," replies Mammon. "What'dya think she'd want?"

Satan puts a hand up to his chin, his eyes shining with deep thought. "Leave it to me."

With that, after a little arguing, the group disbanded. Everything was now riding on Satan's shoulders.

Satan pov:

Hopefully, this works. If not then I don't know what will.

I leave my room and start to make my way through the house. Taking turn after turn, down a flight of stairs, and a few more twists, I find myself outside of the human's door. I lightly knock, but there's no answer. Determined, I knock again louder. When that also gets no answer, I try the doorknob. To my utter surprise, the door is unlocked and openly accessible.

Turning the knob, I enter the pitch-black room. "(Y/N)? Are you in here?"

"Satan? Please. Leave me alone. I do not wish to have company." comes a tired and ragged voice.

Barely, I can make out the shape of a body laying on the bed. Walking over, I gently grasp (Y/N)'s hand. "(Y/N)? What's wrong? Tell me. Everybody is worried about you. Besides, I have something for you."

"I don't want any of your gifts. Get. Out." she grumbles, anger and frustration tinging her voice.

Refusing, I squeeze her hand. "Absolutely not. I'm not leaving till you tell me."

Before I can react, a pair of blood-red glowing eyes meet my own emerald orbs. "I. Said. Leave."

"(Y/N)! What is going on with you!?" I exclaim in shock as she whips away from me clutching her head.

Her body trembles as she talks to me. "Get... out... text..."

Understanding her meaning, I rush out of the room slamming the door behind me. I run past my brothers in the hall and make my way quickly into my own room. Yanking up my phone, I quickly open my messages up and tap on (Y/N)'s contact.

In Private Chat with (Y/N)

(Y/N): Satan... please don't tell the others about what just happened.

Satan: (Y/N)! How can I not! What is happening to you!?

(Y/N): If you tell them... I'll never be accepted. >_<

Satan: (Y/N), of course, you'll be accepted. We all care about you, but we can't help if you don't confide in us.

(Y/N): I'm not ready to tell everybody yet...

Satan: Then I shall keep your secret... as long as you tell me and let me assist you.

(Y/N): Satan... I... I have no other choice, do I? Alright... I'm a vampire.

Satan: 0.0

(Y/N): Please don't be afraid of me! I don't kill humans, I get their permission before feeding! Please Satan?! Please believe me!?

Satan: ... Alright. I believe you. After all, you've never attacked us.

(Y/N): That would be my worst nightmare, but I can't be around blood right now. I've been starving myself, and when you came in I was far too close to losing control.

Satan: (Y/N)... don't worry about a thing. I'll handle this. Where can I get you blood?

(Y/N): Satan... you're absolutely amazing. There is a vampire blood bank in the human realm where you can get blood. I'll set the specially lined purse I have for this outside of my door. Show them my ID and explain that I need blood. They will send it with you and you can slip it into the purse to hide it. I'll place my ID inside the purse for you.

Satan: Alright. I'll be back in an hour.

(Y/N): You're the best! Thank you, Satan!

Satan has gone offline

(Y/N) has gone offline

An hour later, brought to you by me having a whole other one-shot to type...

After a million years, I eventually make it back to the House of Lamentation, blood purse in hand. Using a series of spells, I make my way up to (Y/N)'s room undetected, and against my better judgment enter the room.

"(Y/N)?" I whisper into the darkness. "I have your blood."

"S-S-S-Satan?" hoarsely croaks a voice before breaking into a ragged cough. "I... I'm too weak to get out of bed. All of my energy has left me."

She lets out some more gut-wrenching coughs. "Shhh... I'm here. (Y/N) I'm here."

Carefully, I make my way over to the bed. My eyes barely make out the outline of (Y/N)'s body and face. Cupping the back of her head, I gently help her drink the blood after removing it from the purse. Almost instantly, her eyes fully shut and she slips into a deep slumber.

Silently, I leave the room with the blood bag returned to the inside of the purse. After escaping from the house once more, I make my way deep into the forest being increasingly careful not to be caught. When I could no longer see the top of the house, I use a little magic to start a fire in the clearing. I take the bag from the purse and watch as the fire burns it to ash, and when I'm certain nothing is left I put out the fire and make my way back to the house.

Once in (Y/N)'s room, I use a little bit more of my magic to light a small floating candle next to me so I can read and watch over her sleeping form. I settle into the seat and open the book. (Y/N) always loves it when I read to her, so opening the book of poems I start to read.

(Y/N) pov:

Waking up, I catch a whisp of a smooth voice gliding through the air. Keeping my eyes shut, I silently listen to the entirety of the poem:

Romance, who loves to nod and sing, With drowsy head and folded wing, Among the green leaves as they shake Far down within some shadowy lake, To me a painted paroquet Hath been—a most familiar bird— Taught me my alphabet to say— To lisp my very earliest word While in the wild wood I did lie, A child—with a most knowing eye. Of late, eternal Condor years So shake the very Heaven on high With tumult as they thunder by, I have no time for idle cares Through gazing on the unquiet sky. And when an hour with calmer wings Its down upon my spirit flings— That little time with lyre and rhyme To while away—forbidden things! My heart would feel to be a crime Unless it trembled with the strings. (-Edgar Allan Poe)

I recognize the poem as that of Edgar Allan Poe, specifically a piece named Romance. How I always did love it.

Opening my eyes, I turn to the gentle light of the candle. "That was amazing. Thank you, Satan."

"You're welcome (Y/N). How are you feeling?" he whispers while threading his fingers through my hair.

I lean into his warm and alive touch. "I feel much better. How about we join the others for dinner?"

"Alright, if you feel up to it," answers Satan with kindness and patience laced through his voice.

"Oh, and Satan?" Turning around, Satan comes back to the bedside. In the blink of an eye, I pull him down and kiss him right on the lips.

I can feel his body stiffen in shock, but as I pull away from the kiss he yanks me back. This time he roughly places kisses on my lips and pushes me back onto the bed. We kiss until we can no longer hold our breath, or should I say till Satan can no longer hold his breath.

"Well, well, well... Mr. Gentleman has a rough love side." I tease, hands on top of Satan's heaving chest.

His face flushes a deep red. "I... I love you (Y/N)."

"I love you too Satan. Although, I think you better tidy your wrinkled shirt and ruffled hair before we go to dinner, otherwise the others will think we did more than kiss." I tease raising an eyebrow in a mocking tone.

In a state of panic, Satan flings himself off of me and flusteredly puts himself back together. However, little did it matter.

Asmo quickly noticed that Satan's coat was missing when we sat down at dinner. Poor Satan turned scarlet as he explained that he had to turn up the temperature in my room since I was feeling sick and that he took off his coat since he got too hot. Asmo however didn't believe a word of it.

"Well... someone was definitely hot," I state with a smirk, causing Asmo to dramatically gasp. "But I think I have a right to think that about my new boyfriend."

"BOYFRIEND!" exclaims six other demons, and with that Satan picks me up and runs for it. This year just got even more interesting.