#even if I wish I had gotten a little further in the writing... ah well

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

Stitches (Part II)

(Read Part I Here! used to be We Interrupt This Broadcast... changed the name because I feel like this fits better 😅)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). And again, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect some angst (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

"Almost ready" I said. "Basically finished" I said. Sorry y'all, the Chronic Illness Fairy struck. 😅 I will say this was my favorite part to write, but also the one I'm most uncertain about... bit more angst in this installment and I'm not much of an angst writer lol... but with Rosie in the mix (especially as a ler), angst never lasts long. 🥰

Also I changed the title. Hopefully it's not confusing that way... cuz without Part 1 this fic makes zero sense 😅

One last thing... I'm so happy y'all like Trudy! Was thinking about posting a lil sketch of her at some point (I need a new insomnia project now that this fic is done 😅). I've been having a truly awful few weeks on the anxiety front, so all the positive feedback on Part I has been quite literally making my days 💕

Hope you enjoy!!

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"Ooh, you stubborn little bastard. You're still gonna refuse to laugh?" Rosie mutters.

Alastor doesn't dare try to speak. All he can manage is a defiant shake of his head.

"Look, my friend. If you 'don't mind a little tickling,' and getting all giggly is your specialty…" Rosie tweaks his bottom rib, eliciting a noise that comes just short of a squeak. "What, exactly, is the problem here?"

"I'm supposed to be in control!" he grinds out through his twitching grin.

"You are in control, sir." Trudy abruptly withdraws her hands, holding them up innocently. "You can tell me to stop at any time."

Alastor cringes. He was sorta hoping no one would point that out.

"Which is why I find it so fascinating that you haven't yet." A sly smirk creeps across Rosie's face.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I- I'm humoring you!"

"Humoring me?" Rosie tilts her head. "My dear, I hope you're not doing this just for my sake. If you don't want Trudy to check for further injury-"

"No, I do! O-on my terms!"

"This is on your terms."

"Yes, but-"

"In fact, you insisted."

He stumbles again, before mumbling another meager, "…to humor you!"

Trudy shoots her boss a disoriented look - but Rosie, as usual, is hearing her friend loud and clear.

"Alastor." Rosie rolls her eyes, gestures for Trudy to step aside, and scoots over to place a hand on his knee. "Adam is dead. Everyone in hell thinks you're either succumbing to your wounds in some remote gutter or hiding in whatever alternate dimension you just spent the last seven years. You're not even 'on air'." She leans in. "You can drop the act for a moment, if it's what you need."

That certainly hits the mark. For the first time, Alastor's smile falters - not completely dropping, but certainly losing much of the strained quality it's had since he arrived.

"I wish I could, my dear."

Encouraged, Rosie continues. "Well, what's stopping ya? As much as I love spending time with Alastor the Radio Demon… if you wanna take this opportunity to let out whoever's underneath that effervescent grin of yours, you know we wouldn't mind."

Alastor swallows - and for the first time in a decades, Rosie finds his expression difficult to read. "Rosie, I'm afraid I can't really..."

"I mean, you've been holding that same silly show-host-smile for years! Don't tell me you've never gotten tired of it!"

"It's sewn on, Rosie."

"…What?"

He hesitates. "Let's just say today wasn't the first time I've been, ah... stitched up." As he speaks, he gestures to his toothy grin. And for once, there's not a trace of distortion in his voice.

Rosie's dark eyes go wide when she realizes what he means. The cannibal overlord just stands there for a beat, in an uncharacteristic moment of shock.

But, being Rosie, she quickly recovers. "Well, so what?"

"I'm just saying, I'm afraid I can't really drop the act."

"Nonsense! Since when has your act had anything to do with your face?" Rosie flicks her hand, as if brushing the thought aside. "Who cares if you can't show genuine Alastor. I wanna hear him."

"But my microphone..."

"You're doing just fine without it."

Once again, this attempt at reassurance only makes Alastor look more disturbed. "Th-this can't be me!"

"...Well, no. This right here sure isn't the Alastor I know. But…"

Alastor is barely listening to her anymore. His broadcast persona has been his sole identity since he was alive. Now his radio tower has been reduced to rubble, his microphone snapped clean in half, even his carefully-styled clothing left in tatters…

If this is the Genuine Alastor he's now stuck with - panicked, stuttering, weak - he can't imagine how he'll ever be able to face the rest of hell…

But these racing thoughts are once again interrupted by nails tracing up his sides. A sharp yelp cuts the air as poor Alastor just about jumps out of his skin.

"…Perhaps I can offer a little help?" Rosie suggests gently, once she has his undivided (and adorably flustered) attention. "On your terms, of course?"

Alastor just gazes back at her for a long moment. "What do you have in mind?"

"I happen to know something about you that even you can't fake."

The radio demon hesitates… before heaving a sigh and, to Rosie's surprise, giving a small nod of consent.

She breaks into a brilliant (and frankly terrifying) smile.

Before Alastor can brace himself, Rosie's hands have both found his sides and begun working into his waist. Having just watched him squirm around under Trudy's thorough probing twice (and adored every second of it), she already has a pretty good idea of where his worst spots are.

Which is made abundantly clear by Alastor's reaction. Within seconds he's gone from still trying to hold it all in by habit, to giggling into his hands, to cackling hysterically.

And it's the kind of laughter she's spent the last seven years missing. This isn't the confident, taunting chuckle he brings out for battles or brushing off rivals; this is bright, helpless, occasionally hiccuping laughter, the kind that is nearly impossible for him to stop once he starts - and the kind she only has the privilege of hearing when something truly amuses him.

"You can't sew your laughter on," Rosie reminds him. "This is all yours."

Rosie's fingers creep up under his shirt to scribble on bare tummy, adding a couple new sweet spots to her mental catalogue. This technique brings out even more of her favorite little quirks: the way he bats playfully (and completely ineffectually) at her wrists; his repeated attempts to speak around his laughter that only result in frantic spurts of incomprehensible, giggle-laced gibberish.

As she traces her nails across his lower belly she also finds a tiiiny layer of unexpected pudge. Which probably shouldn't surprise her - he's been out of the battle scene for seven years, after all. All those deer carcasses have to go somewhere.

Regardless, she finds it terribly endearing for some reason... and the surge of affection translates into a corresponding surge in the intensity of Rosie's tickles.

"AHaha! Ro- Rosie!" he blurts, his voice jumping a full octave higher than normal. "Stop!!"

Rosie removes her hands immediately. "Stop?"

"Aha- ah- well- I mean, er…" He stumbles breathlessly, and gives a sheepish cough.

"You didn't really want me to stop, did you?"

Rosie resumes with a chuckle, reeling herself in just a little. "How 'bout we say... oh... 'enough,' if you really want me to quit?"

Of course, she has to go and say it out loud.

"M-more of a reflehex..." he admits reluctantly.

Alastor tosses a shaky thumbs-up at her, already too lost in his own giggles to manage a verbal reply.

And he's gotta admit… Rosie was absolutely right. He wouldn't stop her right now for all the souls in hell. There's a reason Alastor has the most recognizable evil cackle of any other overlord. He can't help but find dissolving into laughter as cathartic and exhilarating as always - even if this time, it's not at some poor soul's misfortune. It's a result of his best friend's affection for her darling deer demon.

"As fun as getting your soft little belly is," Rosie muses, pausing to let Alastor catch his breath for a moment, "I can't help but wonder if you're ticklish anywhere else…"

Alastor may be off the air, but Rosie can practically hear the screech of microphone feedback just by the look on his face. "….I plead the fifth."

"Have you considered his ears?" Trudy pipes up shyly. While she'd managed to restrain herself behind an impeccably professional bedside manner earlier, it had taken everything in her power not to stroke Alastor's ears when she'd been close enough to do so. They were just. so. fluffy.

"Ohhh, heavens…" Alastor, for his part, curls in on himself at the mere suggestion.

Rosie grins. "Hey, 'no' is always an option."

A long pause. Alastor can't believe he's considering this. But the sensation of being tickled, as unbearable as it is, does feel awfully pleasant… and it's been so long since anyone has dared to touch him…

And what else does he have to lose at this point, anyway?

"I suppose if you're… very gentle…"

"Are you aware that your ears are the softest thing in the nine circles?"

This stipulation ends up backfiring. When it comes to his ears, gentle is worse. So, so much worse.

Poor Alastor is too busy clutching his stomach and snickering madly into his sleeve to reply.

"I should know, I work in retail. These right here-" Rosie traces her fingers down the feathery-soft edges, sending the radio demon into a new round of hysterics. "-Would fetch a pretty penny."

"They're nohot for saHA-ale!!"

"Nooo, I should say not." Rosie's hapless victim lurches back into the cushions as her fingers find the fluffy region at the base of his ears. Even without the microphone, his cackles have no problem filling the room. "You're the only demon classy enough to wear them."

"And don' you - GAHaha! - f-forget it!" He's so drunk on laughter now that he's beginning to slur his words. His careful elocution has gone the same place as his steady tone, and lack of stutter.

Luckily, he's also far too drunk on laughter to care.

...Right about there, Rosie notices that the faint hum of radio static in the air is no longer just in her head.

He is laughing his heart out for the first time in weeks. Genuinely laughing for the first time in decades. And laughing completely for himself, for his own enjoyment, without need for intimidation or control or image or audience, for the first time since long before he died.

While Trudy typically can't say much for her self-preservation instinct, she's got enough of one to feel hesitant joining her boss in tickling the most powerful overlord in hell (outside the pretense of medical intervention, at least). So she just stands back, watching fondly as The Most Dangerous Overlord This Side of the Pentagram utterly destroys the deer demon.

...At least, until she notices a flicker of green light out of the corner of her eye. Lying forgotten on the end table, the splintered ends of Alastor's microphone are sparking and crackling like live wires.

The surgeon creeps over for a closer look, staring in fascination. And then - just as Rosie gets poor Alastor behind the ears and delivers a scribble to his tummy at the same time - she ever-so-gently nudges the fractured ends closer to one another.

To her surprise, a bright green spark arcs clear across the gap. For a fraction of a second, the whole staff radiates a flash of a familiar green glow.

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"Keep him laughing, Rosie," Trudy murmurs over her shoulder. It appears the Radio Demon's downfall will be nothing more than an intermission.

Thanks for being so patient with me y'all! Hope it was worth the wait 💕

💜- Cozy

[sukipershipper]

Your Darling Irish Rose - SWTD Oneshot

(TW: lots of swearing and something sliiightly naughty but nothing too much lol, have fun!) -----

Cillian…Seems like it’s been so long since I last held you. 

I keep looking out the window, expecting you to be coming home, just like you always do. But each day leaves me feeling more disappointed than the last. 

I know you’re working hard though.

I know you’re doing your best and that’s what I know is important. 

I just wish I could be back there with you. 

But…you know better than any that fate is a cruel mistressIf she weren’t, we wouldn’t be apart

I really hope the rig allows you home for Christmas…I miss you more and more each day…I’ll be waiting every day for you…waiting until I can hold you in my arms again and hear your beautiful voice, mo ghrá…

Please don’t forget to write…love…your darling Mary

P.S you better have shaved your face when you get back mister, I know you love your stubble but it looks horrid on you <3

The little scribbled heart at the bottom of the page made his heart flutter. He rolled his eyes as he let out a low laugh, his lips barely touching as he read the paper once more. This would’ve been the 10th time he had read it. The letter itself was sent a month ago but it was the last letter he got from Mary. He loved reading her latest tellings of the day, so he felt saddened that he hadn’t gotten a letter from her recently. But he held onto hope that she was just busy and had forgotten. The two had always been busy bodies. From the small coffee shop they ran together in the streets of Dublin, which she now ran with her sisters, to the work they did together on the Beira. Mary was a very beloved face on the rig. She was one of the few doctors on board. Though her profession was hindered slightly due to poor equipment provided by Cadal, she still managed to do it with relative ease. 

She had many good friends onboard, minus Addair. Hell, even Rennick liked her, thought she was the sweetest thing to roam the earth. And, of course, O’Connor adored her so. The nights they weren’t busy he’d take her into his arms and they’d waltz under the stars to a tune playing in the crew lounge, only barely audible through the walls but a beautiful melody that would envelope them both as they swayed together. 

He longed for her touch as much as she did for his. 

Yet, like she had stated, fate was cruel and had separated them. Come the start of the year, Mary found it harder for her to continue her work, and had asked to go back to the mainland until further notice. Rennick, of course, was understanding for her. But with him it was another story. He had barely been allowed to utter the first sentence before being told “Fuck off, ye have a job tae do here, get on it!”

To say that fucked him right off would be an understatement. Mary was quick to reason with him that he is the head of the Pontoon team and no-one could run around down there with such ease as he could. Didn’t ease the separation by much but her promise of letters back and forth helped settle his mind for the time being. 

That was back in January. It was now August and he still waited until her next letter or at least a call from Rennick who she had promised updates for every fortnight. Still, nothing. 

Ah well, she was probably just tired was all. He sat himself up and made his way to the canteen, brushing past a damp spot of the floor that made him roll his eyes, turning his gaze upwards to where a small leak had begun to drip in his room. “Swear, Rennick better fix tha’ shite…” he grumbled, chucking on a warm jumper for the morning before making his way to fix himself some breakfast. He passed a few friends and workmates along the way, eventually stopping at Finlay who was hopping down from fixing the lights above. “Mornin’ Lass!” he quipped, resulting in a light kick and an indignant smirk on her face. “Ye better watch yer mouth! Callin’ me lass, bloody hell…” she chuckled, giving him a shove. “What wuid Mary say, hm?” 

“Oh, pipe down, she’d be ‘avin’ a gaff too!” he chortled. Finlay rolled her eyes with an exaggerated groan as she accompanied O’Connor down the hallway. “Thought ye had fixed tha’ part already?” O’Connor asked, gesturing to the light fixture behind them. Finlay huffed, “Ah did! But Ah swear, is like one thing breaks after the other!” she exclaimed, “Ah tell ye, Cilly,” she spoke - using the nickname Mary often used for him, making him smile slightly. “This rig…is a fuckin’ pile of shite it is…Rennick needs tae put calls through tae get this fixed o’herwise we ain’t gonnae get tae drillin’ at all…Ah mean, look at yer room!” “Ach, I know…” O’Connor grumbled again, “...Swear, it’s like as soon as Mary left this shit started happening…” the thought made him chuckle, “Heh, i-is like she was the ray of sunshine keepin’ this rig together!” he laughed, getting a brief chuckle out of Finlay, “Team effort then, she does all the hopin’ and wishin’ I do the maintenance, hah!” she joked, sending both into a fit of laughter as they descended the stairs. 

As they entered the hallway that led to the canteen, the echos of their workmates rang out loudly, followed by the sound of crashing cutlery and their cook, Roy, yelling at one of the crew, followed by a chorus of laughter as they made their way through the door and into the canteen. 

“MUIR! FOR FUCK SAKES, STOP IT!” Roy yelled, watching as one of the deckhands, a rugged figure with an oddly slim face, danced around on the tables, being egged on by his friends. 

O’Connor laughed at the sight of Muir, laughing even more at Innes who seemed to be egging him on the least but still thoroughly enjoyed the sight (though to O’Connor, Innes also seemed to be enjoying the view from where he stood, Muir’s body turned to face away from him left ample opportunity for Innes to stare at the lads ass) and at their newest cod, Caz who was dancing with Muir, albeit on the ground. He loved the vibrant camaraderie of the crew here, and the way that everyone seemed to laugh and smile along with any of the hijinks that one group may get up to. It helped to lighten the load and lessen the burden he felt of being alone without his beloved, although it didn’t help the twinge of sadness he felt not seeing her in the fray, dancing and jumping along with the rest. 

The man had very little time to ponder it as a loud banging of a ladle from Finlay got them all to settle down as her voice boomed “A’RICHT YA LOT! SIT DOWN AND FILL YER GOBS! NO MORE PRANCIN’ AROUND, C’MON, C’MON!” O’Connor laughed heartily, his respect for Finlay shooting through the roof as he sat down at a table with Caz, Innes, Muir and his two other close mates, Trots, and his best mate from before he even worked on the rig, Gibbo. The two had met when O’Connor took on a chance fishing job on a small boat off the coast of Scotland nearly 10 years ago. It was a good chance for O’Connor to get used to the water's motions and make a good connection to help work on the rig when it was ready to be placed. Granted he wait for that was a whole 8 years after the fact but it worked for him. 

“Took ye long enough!” Innes joked, getting a laugh out of O’Connor once again. “What kept ye?” “Probably gawking at that letter from Mary, hm?” Caz asked. O’Connor nodded, “Just reading her words in her voice makes all the pain and worries of the day just go- WOOSH!” he exclaimed, his hands flying out beside him to punctuate his words. 

“Ye get any new letters from her yet, lad?” Muir asked. O’Connor sighed, “Nae,” he explained, “But hey, there’s always tomorrow…” he spoke, though his voice was a bit uncertain. 

As he sat down, Gibbo slid him a plate he had made for him earlier, hashbrowns, toast, eggs and some delicious strands of maple bacon, before he could even put the fork in his mouth, Trots instantly began yammering on. “The state of this crew, someone needs tae keep ‘em in check!” he began, earning an instant groan from Gibbo. “Christ, not again-” “From the rags on the floor to the parties, ye’d think we were in the states! No care, no rules, no order! Just a big ole, messy pile of fucken’ shi-” “WE GET IT, TROTS,” Gibbo groaned, “Chill out, Cillian’s just sat down! H-He doesnae wanna hear yer nonsense!...Right?” the other man asked, turning his gaze to O’Connor, who sat peacefully eating. He took notice of Gibbo’s expression, one that pleaded with him not to let this go on. O’Connor gave a coy smile, however, “Oh, well, actually…” he began, resulting in wide, horrified eyes from the stocky man beside him. 

O’Connor leaned in close to the Union Rep, “I remember you telling me about a bit of mould in one of the rooms that ne’er got addressed, but I forgot what it was ye saw! Care tae tell me?” “Well, as a matter of fact-” Trots began, his sentences turning into a flurry of rambles as O’Connor sat contently, eating his grub and listening to Trots, all while Gibbo shot him a look of ‘Fuck you’. 

The Irishman simply sat and finished off his plate while Trots yabbed on. The minutes ticked by as he ate, and still, all he could think about was his Mary. He ate absentmindedly, clearing his plate just before Trots finished his rambles. He looked at the clock on the wall and moved to stand. “Well, thanks fer the story, Trots my boy!” he spoke, “I’m sure Gibbo here would be more than happy to listen to ye now-” “Prick” Gibbo muttered through gritted teeth. “But, I best be off,” he continued, about to grab his plate, “Ye know how it is, Rennick needs me in-” *BZZT* 

‘O’CONNOR! MY OFFICE! NOW! NO DAWDLING, MOVE IT!’

*CLICK*

The whole canteen went silent, eyes turned to O’Connor who simply blinked in shock at the mention of his name. It was very rare that O’Connor ever got called up to Rennick’s office, so either he was needed for a new task or he royally fucked up something. Either way, he set his plate back down and sighed through clenched teeth, looking back towards the table as he mouthed ‘Wish me luck’ to them. After a few minutes of darting across the deck and up to the crew lift where he could reach administration, he knocked on the titular door that opened to the office of Davey Rennick. He took a deep breath and pushed it open, forcing a smile. “Mornin’ Sir,” he began, aiming to continue until he saw… “‘Ello, Cilly” Addair spoke lowly, though oddly, not in his usual vicious tone as he leaned against one of the filing cabinets. O’Connor felt his eyes narrow and how fists clench as he stared daggers into the British fuck beside Rennick. “What’s ‘e doin’ ‘ere?” O’Connor snarled, his accent noticeably thicker. 

“He’s here tae help me, that’s why,” Rennick replied shortly. It wasn’t an unknown fact that O’Connor despised Addair with a burning passion. The two had always butted heads and competed to see who could a job better or win at pool. Rennick was very aware of this, often having to scold the two from on the deck just beside his office if he ever saw them in a fight. He knew this was a very risky meeting but for a reason beyond Rennick’s comprehension, Addair had insisted on sitting in on this. So he allowed to go on, but he could see it would require a lot of standing in between the two men as Addair instantly puffed out his chest, standing up off of the filing cabinet and making his way around to meet O’Connor, who instantly straightened up and did the same thing back. 

“Fuck are ye here for, eh?” O’Connor growled, “Ye ‘ere te watch me get tha’ boot, huh? Oh, I bet ye were the one who lied and said I fucked somethin’ up, ay?” “Fuck off, cunt,” Addair snarled back, “Trust me, if I wanted to watch you get thrown off this boat, O’Connor…I’d throw you off myself,” he whispered that last part, his sombre expression slightly fading and giving way to his usual snake-like tone. The comment prompted a low growl out of O’Connor and before he knew it, his hands flew to Addair’s chest and he gave him a firm shove. “YA FUCKIN’ PRICK!” 

Addair retaliated with a shove of his own and the two got into a big shoving match, their hands catching each other as they tried to push the other down. Rennick slammed his fists on his desk, “SIT THE FUCK DOWN, CILLIAN!!” he yelled. The two men stared at each other before O’Connor huffed and took a seat. Addair returned beside Rennick as the boss sat back down and sighed. 

“Look,” Rennick began, “No one’s ‘ere because ye got the fuckin’ sack, a’richt?” he spoke, his voice much softer than O’Connor had ever heard it. “Addair is here because he got a letter incorrectly addressed to him…it was meant tae go tae ye…” he explained. O’Connor’s face scrunched up in suspicion. 

‘Conveniently’ the person he hated the most got his letter? Yeah right. Rennick either read his thoughts or saw his expression because he immediately began to explain again. “I get it, ye two hate each other’s guts, Ah wuid be suspicious too…but believe me, this is the truth…Addair?” he spoke, gesturing for the Fat fuck to speak. “Look, I think yer the biggest waste of space on this rig, and I know ye’d rather want me burned in a furnace than talking to ya…but…” he paused, his hand going to his head. 

O’Connor’s expression softened as he watched the body language change and the mood of the room seemed to shift. 

“This…this was sent from the hospital in Aberdeen…” he explained, “...Me ex is in there…she sent a letter to me filing for divorce…which I still think is bullshit-” “Get to the point, Addair,” Rennick interrupted. Addair scoffed, handing O’Connor the letter. The latter simply stared, “W-Why would I be getting a letter from the hospital?” he asked, his voice no longer carrying his accent, hinting at the vulnerability he felt in that moment. 

“It’s not directly from the hospital itself, but from the address…” Addair continued, “...I uh…admittedly…I had a read of it-”

“Ye read my mail?” O’Connor asked, his voice raising in volume. “Yeah…is from your broad, Marianne, whatever her name was…” Addair responded, “...somethin’ stupid I reckon…” he scoffed resulting in a growl from Rennick. He took over the conversation. “Addair thought it best if ye read it…Mary had sent it personally for ye…” “Ye read it too, Rennick!?” O’Connor yelled, standing up. Rennick stood up with him, “Listen, I’m given’ this tae ye fer ye tae read in yer own time, but I ken ye’ve been waiting ages for Mary to right back…this is why it’s taken so long…” “W-What’s that supposed ta mean!?” “JUST-” Rennick paused and took a deep breath, “Read it, O’Connor…”

The man simply stared in horror at the thought of what was in this letter. Trembles began to take over his body as he opened the letter, his eyes wide as they scanned the page. It didn’t take him long before he found the part that had thrown the whole mood of the office. 

One word that now engraved itself into his mind. 

‘Leukemia’

O’Connor felt his knees buckle, he tried to adjust his footing, his hands on Rennick’s desk barely managing to catch him as he felt his weight overpower him, his body shaking slightly and his eyes wet, brimming with unshed tears that he didn’t want to let fall. He couldn’t even read the rest of the letter. He simply held it in his hands as he took shaky breaths, trying to hold back his sobs. “Sh…S-She…She can’t!” he whispered. Rennick shook his head, “I’m sorry, Cillian…she’s a lovely lass…which is another reason why I needed tae give this tae ye…she found out a few months back apparently…”

O’Connor was in paralyzed horror. The woman he loved, his Irish Rose…was battling the worst thing he could imagine. Hospitals would be hard on her, he knew it, her treatment would be difficult. She would be in that hospital suffering and getting last at every amount of treatment she required. The thought sickened him. But what hurt more was the realization that dawned on him…she was alone.

He was out at sea here, no way to get off with his rostered hours…and she was stuck in a dingy old hospital room by herself…she was alone and he couldn’t be there for her. 

The thought was horrible and he could only stare with wide eyes between the two men before him. Rennick sighed, “Ah’ve let the Mainland team ken…but…it’s unlikely they can get a bird out ‘ere for ye before the Holiday Shift…trus’ me, Ah’m as pissed off as ye right now about it…Ah’ll ‘ave another call for ye, but I cannae promise ye’ll be going back…Ah…Ah’m sorry…” the man spoke, his voice soft and almost trembling itself as Rennick sank into his seat. “Yer…yer free to go…both of ye,” he spoke.

With that, Addair walked out first. O’Connor took longer to go, but once he did, his eyes were fixed on the floor, He didn’t dare look up, his thoughts swimming in a pool of shock and disbelief. He then felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He looked to see Addair, staring at him with sincerity. “I don’t believe to be what makes us friends…I doubt we ever will be…” he said in a low voice, “...but…I’m sorry this is happening…despite how much of a prick ye are to me…and how much I am to ye…doesn’t mean ye deserve this…you or her…Write back to her when ya can…let her know how much ya love her before ye can’t…”

With that, Addair headed back down to Engineering, a sigh of disbelief escaping him. O’Connor stayed there for a while, still processing everything.

The journey between the walk from the office to the canteen was a blur and O’Connor felt as though he wasn’t even there. The room was empty with no one else but him, Roy and Finlay who were gabbing on in the background. O’Connor barely saw their forms, only hearing their muffled voices in his mind.

It was only when Caz’s voice rang out that he jumped back to reality and saw himself surrounded by his friends. Caz and Gibbo knelt directly in front of him, Trots on his left side and Roy on his right as Innes and Muir stood in the back together and Finlay stood with Brodie on the other side behind Gibbo. “Ye a’richt?” Caz asked, his eyes searching O’Connors face for an answer. 

O’Connor didn’t answer right away, simply staring down at his hands. 

“O’Connor?” Finlay called, tapping the man gently on his cheek with her knuckle, trying to pry a response from him. Still nothing. 

Gibbo shuffled a little closer. ‘Cillian…Cilly…” he murmured, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Did Rennick give ye a boot?” Muir asked, a little insensitively but in his genuine way nonetheless. “Did ye want me tae punch him?”

O’Connor shook his head with a laugh. “No…no…” he mumbled, “...I’m fine…It’s not me I’m cryin’ o’er…” he explained. He showed the letter in hand. “Oh, Mary got back?” Roy asked. O’Connor nodded, no verbal response from him, however. 

“Lad, ye’re worrying us,” Trots spoke softly, holding O’Connor’s hand. “Are ye okay? Is Mary okay, what happened?”

It took a few seconds but soon, soft whimpers escaped him, followed by his shoulders trembling and shaking with pent up sobs. His eyes pooled with tears that were threatening to spill at any second as his whimpers grew louder and more pained. And all at once, the floodgates opened as soft sobs escaped him, he clung to himself holding his elbows tight as he doubled over. Trots leaned on him, giving him comfort in a supportive embrace while Gibbo tried to get O’Connor to look at him, being gentle as his hands tried to cup O’Connor’s face and get him to look. 

“Cillian, look at me- Its a’richt, it’ll be a’richt” he tried to assure him, but it was to little avail as the tears continued to fall and the sobs grew louder and more desperate. “IT’S NOT ALRIGHT!” O’Connor wailed, gripping onto Gibbo tightly who instinctively threw his arms around him in return, “IT’S NOT FAIR…She’s back on the mainland alone, she’s f-f-fighting Leuk-kemia alone a-and I can’t even h-help her…!” He sobbed. The mention of the condition sends everyone into varying states of horror.

“M-My darling, Mary…” he trembled, his body shaking even more as deep sobs escaped him, even louder than before. “O-Oh god…M-Mary…MARY!!” he cried, heaving into Gibbo’s shoulder, the latter only able to close his eyes as he held his friend, the reality of what he faced weighing even heavier on him. 

“I’m so sorry, Cillian…” Gibbo spoke, his own eyes growing misty as he held his friend. Trots, seeing that more of the crew were coming in, knew that this was a matter best dealt with in privacy. He shared a look with Gibbo and the two stood and led him to the accommodation, settling him into Gibbo and Dobbie’s room. O’Connor’s shaking had subsided but the tears still poured. 

Gibbo allowed O’Connor to lean into him, Trots offering a comforting side hug, albeit quite awkward, giving some comfort as O’Connor let out a shaky sigh. 

“I’m sorry, Cilly,” Trots spoke, “That’s something a couple should ne’er go through…that ain’t fair…it ain’t fair at all…and Cadal ain’t lettin’ ya go to see her?” “R-Rennick is tryna sort it out but…h-he reckons there’s no point in getting my hopes up…he was so nice to me about it too…” O’Connor explained, prompting a chuckle from Gibbo, ‘That’s a first, aye?”

O’Connor smiled slightly as he added to Gibbo’s joke. “Nah, what’s a first was Addair bein’ nice to me, fer once…” he commented, resulting in audible gasps from Trots and Gibbo on both of his sides. “No fucking’ way” 

“Are ye pulling me tits right now?”

“Gibbo-”

“What?”

O’Connor laughed, feeling a little bit of levity as he sat there. He held the letter in his hands still, though it was a bit crumpled due to how hard he held it. “I…I hadn’t even read the whole thing…” he explained, “I-I got to the mention of…it…and I stopped…I couldn’t finish it for her,”

Trots looked at him with an eye of curiosity. He held out his hand at O’Connor with a smile, “May I?” he asked. O’Connor stared for a second, simply looking back and forth between Trots’ face and his hand, but he soon handed the paper to his friend and Trots unfolded the crumpled sheet and began to read it aloud for him. 

As he read, O’Connor imagined Mary’s voice speaking to him as he had done every day before now.

“My darling Cilly…

…I’m sorry I haven’t written back in so long…fuck it’s been hard to want to do anything now…

…I feel bad having to explain to you this way but I have no choice do I?...I have Leukemia…I got diagnosed back in July…it wasn’t easy, but rest assured, I have been given the best doctors…I believe one of them may know your mukker, Cameron…she’s been talking my ear off nonstop about her man, can ya believe?”

That part made O’Connor laugh again, imagining Caz’s wife Suze babbling on to his poor Mary in her bed. The thought was as hilarious as it was comforting to him, knowing she was being treated well. 

“...I had struggled trying to put this into words…in fact I didn’t even write this myself, Ms McLeary did! I just…I missed you so much…but I never wanted to burden you with this…I know treatment for someone like me…like either of us would usually be hard…we’ve never had it easy…but Suze is different…this place is different…it’s looking up for the both of us……We’re gonna be fine, I can feel it…just promise me you won’t get yourself hurt or put into a tizzy by that Addair fella…and for the love of all things holy when and if you visit you had better shave that stubble, or no snuggles for ye once I’m better!”

“Better get on it then!” Gibbo joked, the three men all laughing in response before settling down so Trots could continue reading. 

“In other news, the shop is doing well back home, Daisy and Lilliane are taking care of it, and yer old friend Finnegan even popped by for a visit here! He gave me some flowers and told me to tell you not to leave his wellies lying around in the ground, the dogs got em last night and he had to walk in socks and slippers, ha!”

There it was. Her trademark sunshine personality, her golden, bright and peppy attitude made him always smile whenever he saw her. He could practically feel her warmth around him despite her situation and he loved how she could always see the bright side of everything no matter what. 

“I can’t talk for too much longer, but this is just to say, I’ll be okay…we’ll be okay, don’t fret too much about me…I know you’re doing your best and I don;t need anything more than to know that you’re happy…I love you mo ghrá…Come visit me soon so I can hear your darling, bassy voice and feel your arms around me again…my strong, handsome man…my O’Connor

Grá mo chroí thú, Tá mo chroí istigh ionat Mo chuisle

Lots of love, from your darling irish rose

Sincerely

-Mary O’Connor”

O’Connor felt his eyes well up with tears once again, but this time they weren’t of sadness, but of love and longing. He felt the same painstaking feeling of want as he did before, but this time there was a sense of relief, of comfort, knowin that she was okay. 

Hearing her words were like a lifeline to him that he didn’t know he needed and he smiled as he leaned into his friends embrace, feeling a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in a bit.

She was right…She was always right…

They were going to be okay…

[starwritesstuff]

i would do anything for you to love me like i'm an american hero

(Chap 1)

yeah yeah yeah this is a rainbow kitten surprise song title i can't help myself- i did draw quite a bit of inspo from this song anyhooooozzllessss i put this on ao3 but i figure since i be writing stuff here too i'll post it here.

summary: You hold your hand out and introduce yourself. “Figured I should at least give you my name since I make it a point to bother you every time I see you here.” He takes it, grip warm, firm. “I’m Leon Kennedy.” Gives you a crooked grin. “And you’re not a bother.” Oh? You weren’t, huh? ---- You're pathetic and in love with your best friend. How do you love a ghost?

word count: 3,127

rating: this chapter is g rated buuuttt there is eventual smut so i cannot recommend minors reading this fic- also pls brace yourselves for a lotta angst i'm rly gonna PUT THEM THROUGH A BLENDER (insert me rubbing my hands together like some kinda Machiavellian freak)

The first time you meet Leon it’s in a cafe. He’d bumped into you in line. Leon muttered a sheepish apology and you thought it had been downright adorable.

You’d flirted shamelessly with him- how could you not? With looks like that, the near innocent way he had said sorry. He’d just stood there, a bit awkward, and you’d thought- god what a cutie.

After that you had started to see him a lot more frequently at that cafe and, well, you hadn’t been a regular. But you became one since that first interaction.

It’s not for another month that you get the courage to do more than make flirtatious comments- though he’s always a good sport about those.

“Anyone ever told you you’re kind of an awkward guy?” You ask him, sipping on your hot latte. Eyeing him. He startles, turning a very blue gaze your way.

“Ah, yeah.” He laughs, a dry thing, and rubs the back of his neck. “Might have been once or twice.” Oh could he get any more sweet? He reminds you of a puppy.

You hold your hand out and introduce yourself. “Figured I should at least give you my name since I make it a point to bother you every time I see you here.”

He takes it, grip warm, firm. “I’m Leon Kennedy.” Gives you a crooked grin. “And you’re not a bother.” Oh? You weren’t, huh?

The two of you are standing in the lobby, someone shuffling past you to get to the line. Right. You’re in the way.

You turn back to Leon, grinning. “Do you want to come sit with me? Save me from boring reports?” You watch a flush settle along the back of his neck, crawling up to turn the tips of his ears red. You’re so in trouble.

Leon returns your grin with teeth that are slightly crooked. Furthering your deep descent into your crush.

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

If you paced any more you’d likely wear a tread into the carpet.

It had been months, you think, since you heard from Leon. More since you last saw him.You knew he had an unorthodox job. Something dangerous. Leon always returned a little more banged than when he left.

You didn’t expect Leon, who was more or less a sweet, bashful guy, to have a job like that. But he always, always managed to make contact when he was gone. Whatever had happened you just hoped, wished, prayed to what deity would listen that he was okay. That he wasn’t dead. That he’d come back, even if he was banged up.

You force yourself to quit your relentless back and forth. Tea. You wanted- needed some tea. That honey chamomile you’d gotten last week at the store. You had some clover honey pops to go with it, if you could find them. You tap your fingers impatiently on the stove handle, waiting for the kettle to boil. When it does, you ignore the shakiness of your hands as you pour it over two bags. You like your tea strong.

Walking over to your couch, collapse. Curse loudly when you slosh some of that hot tea fresh off the stove on your fingers. You stick your pointer and middle finger in your mouth, wincing at the stinging pain. Gotta turn something on the TV, distract yourself. You settle on The Great British Bake Off. Stupid stuff, but you liked the friendly competition. And you got to see some pretty neat creations.

You settle into the couch, worn and comfy from years of use, like most of the things in your home. What can you say, you liked homey, comfy things. You draw the fuzzy blanket draped over the couch to you. Wrap yourself up. Sip your tea. And watch Paul Hollywood stare with his weird blue eyes.

It’s actually doing a great job of taking your mind off of Leon. British accents and pastries have that effect, you think. The heat kicks on and you take your sweater off, leaving you in your thin camisole. Too hot for blankets, sweaters, and the heat on. You pillow your head on the arm of the couch.

You don’t know what wakes you. But the hairs on the back of your neck prickle and you have this awful feeling of being watched. Your living room was dark, your TV having gone into that energy saving mode it does when it’s on too long. You stay very still, heart pounding. There’s a creak and you know someone is there.

Could be one of two things because honestly, the only person that could access your home was Leon. Or, conversely, a burglar. Murderer. Whatever.

“Leon?” That seems the most obvious choice. You slowly sit up, rubbing gritty sleep from your eyes.

“Yeah.” Comes his husky reply.

“Christ. What time is it?”

“Just after one in the morning.” Soft light floods the room; he’s turned on one of your floor lamps. You shove a hand through your hair. You slept all of four hours probably. Your mouth is fuzzy and you run your tongue over them. Tastes nasty, too. You must’ve fallen asleep with your mouth open. You hate doing that.

He comes over, to sit by you on the couch and god he does not look good. He’s got a cut over the bridge of his nose, deep purple coloring under his eyes and his straight brows are hung low, scrunching over his nose.

“So” you start. Stop. Take a drink of cold tea to wet your throat. This was awkward. Your locks had been changed. Did he pick them?

He isn’t looking at you, rather he’s looking at the floor. His hands hang loosely between his knees, elbows planted on his thighs. Leon looks exhausted. You had meant to rage at him a little when you saw him next. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do that right now. Not when he looks like this.

“Long trip?” You settle on. Leaning back under your blanket, cradling that cold cup of tea in your hands. Just for something to do.

“Something like that”, he grunts. Opens his mouth, then closes it again. He shakes his head and for a wild moment you’re reminded of a dog shaking its floppy ears. You say nothing, turn your attention back to your tea. It’s tense. You rub your finger along the rim of the cup.

“I suppose I owe you an apology.” Leon’s squinting at you now. He looks unsure, like maybe you have the answers. You shrug instead. Your shoulders get stuck up by your ears though, hunching. You force them down.

“If you want.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Leon’s eyes slide over to you. He doesn’t seem familiar to you right now. There’s no boyish light in his eyes, no silly puppy look to his features. He moves with a deliberate slowness, nothing like the eagerness you’re used to. Something’s happened, you know it has.

You clear your throat.

“If you want me to leave, I can go.” Startled you look at him. “No. No, I was just… thinking about if you’d picked my lock.” It was only half of a lie, anyway.

Leon snorts. “Should consider locking the deadbolt. It’s there for a reason.” Ah, right. The deadbolt. You never use. You guess locks on a door handle are probably much easier to get through than a deadbolt.

“Look, I know it’s been awhile.” Leon says, shoving his elbows off his thighs and letting out a long breath. You fidget with your cup some more. “It has.”

You really have no right to feel this way. The two of you are… Best friends. Close, but not close in the ways to warrant this irrational anger you have. You feel almost abandoned. You cringe inwardly at the feeling. Abandoned. Yeah, what are you, some rescue animal dropped off at the shelter?

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leon’s jaw clench, the muscle fluttering under sallow skin.

You shift under your blanket, eyes bleary, focusing on some faraway point in the living room that you can't really see. You grumble about needing to find your glasses. A few seconds later, Leon hands them to you. You take them, careful to not brush his fingers. You don’t look at him when you quietly murmur your thanks. You wish that he would say something, or you would just open your mouth and say what you feel. Something to relieve the tension in the room.

“I’m surprised to see you. For a while there I wasn’t sure…” You trail off. You don’t want to finish the sentence.

He cracks a smile. It looks worn at the edges, a little unsure. “I wasn’t… I didn’t know if I’d be welcome.” Your shoulders hunch again at that. He probably wouldn’t have been welcome had you known he was going to come here, if you were honest. Ah, have you mentioned you hate this? Things haven’t been weird and tense between the two of you since, well, ever.

“Aw, don’t be like that. You know you’re always welcome here.”

“Am I?”

You pick at the blanket. “Of course.” You blow a breath out, blow it up and it stirs the hair off your forehead.

You grab the TV remote, turn it on.

“I was watching The Great British Bake Off.” You say when he doesn’t reply. The two of you sit for awhile. The TV lights flickering over your faces. You don’t know about Leon, but you’re not really watching. Not really, no. You were sneaking glances at him, taking his still stiff posture. How his hands haven’t moved from his thighs. He looks poised to run, you think.

The episode ends. Starts a new one. You think maybe the not talking happening between the two of you is going to drive you crazy. But you don’t open your mouth. Don’t try to pick at this weird shell he’s created, retreated into. You probably should. He’s your best friend. You should want to try to be there for him.

You’re scared. This new version of Leon feels like he doesn’t want to be here. With you. The old Leon would be excitedly telling you about blowing shit up and shyly asking if you wanted to get coffee at that cafe. As if you’d say no, despite the many times the two of you have kept up the tradition. Now he seems to not know what to do with you. How to be here.

You rub your nose. Pull your knees up. Tuck your hair behind your ears. You know you’re fidgeting. You can’t help it. You’ve never felt this- this weird next to him. Okay, maybe weird isn’t the right word. You certainly feel strange around him, you’re not a fool, you know why. But this is a new strangeness. It’s born of an insecurity that you never thought you’d have.

“You don’t… have to stay. You know? I won’t be mad if you have, like, other places you wanna be.” You wonder if that comes out as needy as you feel. Leon turns his gaze to you, something complicated flicking through his eyes. Quick enough that you don’t quite catch it, not quick enough that you don’t notice it and wonder.

“No, no. Sorry. I’m tired.” Leon’s tone gives nothing away. But it sounds like an excuse to your ears. Does he… pity you? Feel obligated to you? To stay? You try to grin at him, like you always do, like you used to. “Sure. Sure, yeah, I imagine. Um, the guest bed is always made up. You know, just in case.” And it had been. It stayed made up since the last time you had left. Leon huffs out a near silent laugh. “Is it?”

“Yeah. You kinda made a habit of crashing here, you know. So I just… kept it. I mean, I wash the sheets and stuff.” You hurry to explain that last part. You’d taken to keeping extras of things around the house for him. Toothbrush, towel, shirts and boxers and socks. It was all very domestic, blah blah blah. Your heart clenches.

Leon shifts in his spot. Toes off his boots. You wrinkle your nose.

“Walking around in my house with your nasty boots, huh” you chide him, teasing. You get a flash of a genuine smile at that. Your heart unclenches. Just a little.

“Sorry” he says. He doesn’t sound very sorry. In fact, you’d say he sounds a little mischievous. Leon holds his boots out to you. “Wanna see how nasty they are?” You squeal, smack at them. “You’re gross, Kennedy.”

He laughs, sets them by the couch. “You’re fond of telling me.”

You raise a brow at him. "Do you have to put them there? You could, I don't know, stick them. On the shoe rack. That is literally right by my door." Leon shrugs.

“Easier to just take them off here.” He teases. But he gets up, sets the boots on the rack. Holds out his hands in a placating gesture. “See? I put them away like a good boy.” You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle laughter.

“You wouldn’t know how to be a good boy if it came up and slapped you in the face.” You poke at him. “You’re a menace.”

Leon levels you with a kind of look that has your giggles freezing in your throat. Just shy of indecipherable, poorly hidden heat. You hadn’t really thought about the words when they came out, just enjoying the banter with him. You quickly look away. No way were you taking any time to pick apart that look. Adjust your mental position, firmly sticking yourself in the “Leon’s closest friend” category.

“It’s getting a bite late for me,” you say, fighting to keep your voice from wavering. “I think I’m going to actually go to bed.” You think you see a flash of disappointment cross his pretty features. But he stands with you, stretching. T-shirt riding up, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of pale skin, toned. Light scars littered amongst moles.

You turn your head away, give Leon a light pat on the shoulder. “See you in the morning? Let’s go to our cafe.”

“Sure, been awhile. D’you think they remember me?”

“Hard to forget, don’t’cha think?”

Leon laughs at that. Does that thing where he awkwardly shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes. He needs a haircut, you think. It’s gotten over-long. Makes you think of a little emo boy.

“I’ll wake you when I’m up.” He was saying, jerking you out of your musings.

“No later than 8am, mister.” You warn him. Well aware that Leon was an early riser, no matter how little he slept. Leon puts a warm hand on the top of your head. “I promise, I will not wake you before 8am.” He says with mock solemnity. You suck your teeth in response, moving to knock his hand off your head. Retreat a few steps towards your room.

“Good. See that you don’t. Goodnight, Kennedy.” You call, escaping to your room. Try to calm your racing heart. Leon didn’t often initiate physical contact with you, and that was fine, really you preferred it that way. Because when he does, your brain fizzles out. Nervous system goes haywire.

You climb into bed, thoughts shifting to Leon’s earlier behavior. How tense things had been. It was the first time you felt that uncomfortable with him. The two of you were normally much more cohesive. You had a sneaking suspicion that whatever he’d come back from was different. Different from what he usually dealt with. Though, you know you likely won’t get to know. You generally weren’t privy to specifics with him.

You flip to your side, restless. Drag the covers your head, clutching a pillow close to your chest. And what was that ridiculous reaction earlier? Leon had looked… Hot? Sexy? Wanting? Your traitorous brain supplies. Surely not, not because of someone like you. Sure you flirted with him, had built a silly friendship with that flirtation as the foundation, but it didn’t mean anything. You’re, well, you. And Leon’s Leon. He was… magnetic, a little stupid, a little cheesy, but you’d been drawn to that. And he was pretty- really, you hadn’t seen a man so beautiful. All high cheekbones, full lips, delicate brows. And you weren’t convinced he didn’t use mascara or eyeliner, or something with lashes like those.

 It hurt sometimes, looking at him. 

You weren’t typically an insecure person. You’d even say that, sometimes, you might even be a bit big for your britches. But your friendship (you refuse to call it a relationship) with Leon left you feeling a little inadequate at times. That feeling had crawled into your sternum, made a little nest among your heart and viscera the first time he’d come back from a trip. You wished you could grab it, like it was one of those prickly things that attached themselves to your socks, and pluck it out. But it was there to stay. 

You jerk the covers off your head, the space having gotten hot, humid and somewhat hard to breathe. You roll onto your back, dragging the pillow with you. You wonder what Leon was doing. Was he tossing and turning? Punching his pillow softer, to fit his head? Or had he just conked out, exhausted. Sometimes, when he stayed over, he’d get nightmares. And you’d find his silhouette in your doorway, shyly asking if he could sit with you for a bit. First time he did it you thought you might shit your pants. You had scolded him, told him to make a little noise. That waking up to him just hanging in the doorway like some kinda freaky serial killer was just terrifying. Since then, Leon had always made sure to purposely creak your creaky floorboards, to swing the door open noisily.

Not tonight, though. It was quiet. The overhead fan was the only sound you could hear. It was too quiet, one of those nights that made you wish you had a TV in your room, so you could stick something on. The silence just made your thoughts louder, screaming, ringing in your head. Knowing Leon was just in the other room, yards away, doing whatever it is he does at night, knotted your stomach. Quickened your breath. Made that thing in your chest ache. 

You forcefully wrangle your melancholy thoughts into submission. It was far too late for any more of it, and you needed some semblance of sleep. You just know Leon’s going to wake you precisely at 8am, just to be difficult. 

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #30: Denouement

Prompt: amity || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: I'm a little sad I have to break my streak of "tear out my readers' hearts" with my last prompt fill of the challenge, but alas, the prompt just did not at all work with the idea seed I had on the backburner. Ah well, always next year! Instead, we come full circle. :)

--

Were he still a wet-behind-the-ears sixteen-year-old, Alphinaud imagined he would probably be crediting himself for the sight before him.

Synnove’s yard was crammed with tables and chairs dragged from her house or hurriedly purchased from the carpenters at Red Rooster Stead, arranged in such a way as to ensure the riot of color that was her garden remained relatively unscathed. The core of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn were all present—himself, Alisaie, Thancred, Y’shtola, Urianger, Estinien, Krile, Tataru, G’raha, and the four Warriors of Light—and not for the first time, he stifled a giggle at the sight of half their number all bearing white hair. Rereha had a point that they seemed to collect them, particularly after they practically bullied Estinien into joining.

(A pang throbbed in his heart; he missed the acerbic wit of Papalymo, and wondered how the thaumaturge would have gotten along with their newer members.)

There were Hoary Boulder and Coultenet, and Ochre Boulder and the Cockburne sisters, and Riol and F’lhaminn. There were former Scions, too—Lyse, of course, currently engaged in a three-way push-up competition with his sister and Dancing Heron, but also Arenvald and J’moldva and V’mah, cheering them on.

It was the ones who had never been Scions that were the most astounding guests.

Ser Aymeric was the least surprising, though at one point in time he might have been the most shocking one to see, considering Ishgard’s self-imposed isolation. He sat next to Synnove, the pair of them each with a carbunclet on their lap, the both of them deep in discussion with Thancred, Lucia (on a brief leave from the Ilsabard Contingent), Hilda, and Raubahn Aldynn. Nearby, Synnove’s aetherophysics advisor from her student days, Mhaslona, and Admiral Merlwyb presided over the large pit in which the food for the clam bake was cooking, the Admiral not hesitating to shove Ivar away with her foot whenever the ruby carbuncle came over to try to burrow into the coals.

At another table, Nanamo Ul Namo, Kan-E-Senna, and Rereha were introducing Lord Hien to Tonk; Alphinaud wasn’t sure who looked stranger to his eye in such casual dress, the Sultana or the Elder Seedseer. Perhaps the Seedseer; Kan-E wasn’t quite as focused on the cardgame, half her attention given over to a discussion with the Scion mages and Y’shtola keeping her wineglass topped off. And it looked like Nanamo and Rereha were using Kan-E’s distraction surreptitiously teaching Hien either how to count cards or how to quickly reshuffle the draw deck, with the Doman king’s shoulders shaking with laughter.

Alakhai, Estinien, and Yugiri in a knife-throwing competition was probably the least strange sight today.

From his place perched on the fence surrounding the yard, Alphinaud smiled and shook his head. Once, he had thought he had all the knowledge and answers to solve Eorzea’s problems; surely all the city-states needed was to be led in the right direction. His direction.

The arrogance of it.

“What’s got you so maudlin?”

He glanced over and smiled at his twin, who smiled back even as she easily hauled herself up onto the fence next to him.

“The arrogance of youth,” he drawled.

Alisaie snorted, and looked out over the yard. As always, he didn’t need to explain further for her to grasp what he meant; he dearly wished she would give herself more credit for her perceptiveness. “Well, it’s not like we played no part in the fate of the star,” she said.

“True,” Alphinaud said. Without thinking about it, he began tapping out a rhythm against the fence board with his heels. Alisaie joined in a moment later. “And it certainly it turned out far better than we ever dreamed.”

“I can’t believe the Sultana cheats at cards,” Alisaie muttered.

Alphinaud stifled a giggle. “I can,” he said. “She’s always had a bit of a devious streak.”

“And Rereha and the Admiral carefully cultivated it like an orchid in a hothouse.”

There was no stopping his laughter at that.

It wasn’t correct to say that everyone here was the dearest of friends, but the ease with which they all let down their barriers spoke of their mutual respect, that this time was an opportunity to rest and enjoy the fruits of all their labors. It had taken work to get here: Eorzea united, truly united, for the first time in their history, Ala Mhigo and Doma freed from the Garlean yoke, the Ascians gone with Zodiark and Hydaelyn and the Final Days.

And what better way to celebrate than with an old Scion tradition of gathering for food and drink and good company? The Final Days were averted and, most importantly, all four of the Warriors of Light were now declared fully hale and whole, no longer under the baleful eyes of the Sharlayan healer corps.

They were the true lynchpin to this wondrous gathering, the Warriors of Light. Everyone here had played some role in where they all were today, but without the four women around whom they orbited, would they have done it at all? Would they have defeated Gaius van Baelsar, or ended the Dragonsong War, or freed Doma and Ala Mhigo, saved the First, saved all of existence from the grief and loneliness of the Ancients echoing through time?

Alphinaud didn’t think so. It was their tenacity, their compassion, their utter ridiculousness, that truly brought all these people together and gave their star hope for a better future. Not that he’d be able to convince the four of them of that.

Well. Maybe one of them, though even she was more likely to merely play it up for humor rather than actually believe it.

“Oi, Alisaie! Bunny!”

Speak of the devil.

“Not that name,” Alphinaud groaned. It had been years since that accursed nickname had been leveled on him.

Rereha cackled as she bounded over to them. “Baby bunny,” she said, sing-song, “your hair is the same color as the loporrits’ fur. Your favorite color scheme for clothing is the same as theirs. You are ‘bunny’ forever!”

Alisaie threw back her head and laughed as he dropped his face into his hands. He took it all back, at least about Rereha Reha. She was a menace to society and it was a miracle she hadn’t incited an international incident by sleeping with the wrong person.

The pink-haired lalafell reached out with both hands, grinning. Alisaie took her right hand with a matching grin, and Alphinaud let out a put upon sigh—feigned, of course—but took Rereha’s left. Rereha tugged gently, and the twins hopped off the fence, letting her drag them across the yard as she skipped backwards.

“We’re putting a handicap on Heron for the push-up contest,” she said, “and we need both of you for it!”

“Why not just use Tyr?” Alphinaud said.

“Heron still has some limits right now, and Healingway will kill her if she exceeds them.”

Alisaie snorted a laugh, though Alphinaud was certain Rereha wasn’t exaggerating.

As they traversed the length of the yard to the corner where Heron and Lyse were, a flash of iridescent blue caught Alphinaud’s eye. He turned his head to follow it.

A small flock of bluebirds, each with a pair of long, graceful tailfeathers, were flitting above the yard, one with a sunflower bloom in its beak, and if he didn’t know better, he would have assumed they were playing a game of keep-away. The birds twirled and danced through the air before winging their way to perch on the lowest hanging branch of the oak tree in Synnove’s yard, from which hung a swing that currently played host to a napping Galette. The bluebird with the sunflower was in the middle of the flock, and even from here, Alphinaud could see her sharing the seeds with her sisters, as birdsong joined the chorus of chatter and laughter in the yard.

Alphinaud grinned as he followed his sister and their friend, and wondered what new adventures—and new friends—awaited them all on the morrow.

PREVIOUS || FIN!

[bucketinyourwalls]

Body Guard!Postal 4 Dude x Reader

WARNINGS: Slight angst, mentions of a gunshot and stab wound, blood, OOC Dude (I’m far too dumb to get his personality right), rushed and shit writing

Word Count: 1449

A/N: It’s been a good while since I’ve written anything so I’m sorry if this turns out to be shit. And thanks to @strawbrygashez for inspiring me to take a stab at writing fanfiction again so I can write about two old people in love <3. And as an add-on, gonna have this take place after the events of Postal 4, primarily since I’m too lazy to look up the lore and try to remember everything about this game past Tuesday.

“Come in.”

You stared at the door as you heard a knock, assuming it was the new bodyguard your boss had sent you. You were due for a meeting with one of the people you work with in a few days, so your boss figured you’d need a bodyguard. She knows you’re able to fight and defend yourself if all goes to shit, but you’re getting up in age and figured extra help would be nice. Besides, having a bodyguard would be nice. At least for this job.

But with those thoughts finishing up, you saw a man enter your office. And to say the least, he looked like shit. Guy was in a purple bathrobe of all things and may as well just be wearing pajamas. And... are those socks with sandals?? But eh, whatever. Maybe this guy will be better aside from his appearance and god awful smell.

“I’m assuming you’re the bodyguard my boss hired?” You stared at him as you spoke, carefully studying the man as he sat down.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me, I guess.” He responded while glancing around the place, seemingly bored. And honestly, you don’t blame him. The place wasn’t too interesting, nor was the job. And for a man of his age from what little scraps of information you’ve gotten, the work would better be suited for someone younger. Or just someone with an actual interest.

“Mm, yep. Say, aren’t you just a tad too old to be working jobs like these? Or are you just doing this for fun while in retirement?” You continued staring at him while speaking, with the man quiet for a few seconds before laughing. “Man, you’re kind of funny. If that’s the case, wouldn’t you be too old for this kind of shit as well-?” He asked while looking at you, crossing his arms and seemingly enjoying the interaction between you two.

“Ah, I wish. That would be so damn good to just get some rest...“ You softly smiled at his words while thinking, but quickly returned to a more serious demeanor. “So, ‘Postal Dude’, right? Man, your parents must have hated you for that to be your legal name. And as an extra note, couldn’t you have come in something just a bit more professional? Plus, you smell like shit.” You kept examining him while questioning, wondering just why he had to come here dressed like that. What the hell does your boss see in this guy?

“Eh, don’t care much. Just here for some quick cash. And yeah, guess my parents really did. But eh, at least the names a bit funny.”

With his answer you just sighed, getting up from your desk and placing a hand on his shoulder as you headed towards your door. “It’s almost lunch, so I’ll be going now. But, for the day that you do start working with us make sure you actually smell good. And try to dress at least decently. I don’t want to be seen with a guy that goes to work in a bathrobe.” And without further words you walked out to grab lunch, not bothering to let him ask for anything further.

For now, until the job was over the two of you were stuck with each other. And after the job, you two were still stuck.

Surprisingly, he did a really good job. And so, your boss permanently hired him for the rest of your work. At first it definitely wasn’t the best, but thankfully you two actually managed to become friends, and your work is now just more enjoyable. Hell, you even managed to gain a little crush on the guy. It was confusing as hell, but you already knew the feelings weren’t mutual.

Especially now that you’re dying in an alley.

Hah... how could a simple smoke break jump to you being attacked by three guys looking to take your shit? God, the world is so shit. And now because of a simple smoke break, you had a gun wound near your side and a deep stab wound in your thigh. Maybe even a badly bleeding cut near your neck. Not even mentioning all the other less deep stab wounds closer to areas considered fatal and all the little cuts constantly stinging. Either way, you’re bruised quite badly, your face is bloodied to high hell, and you’re bleeding out.

“Heh... this sucks.” You quietly muttered to yourself, holding to your bleeding side and trying to keep all the blood in. If you’re lucky, maybe Dude would find you. Maybe he would save you. But, you already knew that was a hopeless possibility. Life isn’t a fairytale, after all. It’s shit, and people die. And now, you were about to be one of those people.

God knows how long you just sat surrounded by trash and your own blood. You could already tell that your vision was slowly going black and fading. Guess this dingy alley is where you’d die, huh? Too bad you never got to tell Dude about your little crush on him. Too bad you never got to say proper goodbyes to what family you have left, both biological and found. Too bad you never got to finally retire.

But none of that mattered now. Your consciousness was quickly slipping, and your body slowly went limp. And as the black void nearly consumed your vision, you heard a voice yelling out for you, with both the voice and rapid footsteps quickly coming closer. It was Dude’s voice. But, none of it mattered anyways. At least he was willing to help you, even if you were on your dying breath.

But just maybe, you managed to live. It’s a surprise to be sure, but a pleasant one. And speaking of pleasant surprises, you slowly woke up and softly hissed at the bright lights, having to take a while to adjust to the sheer white.

“Jesus, I thought I lost you!”

At the words you slowly looked over to your right, beholding a noticeably concerned Dude sitting by your side. Did he really wait here the whole time?

“Dude-? Did you really wait for me?” You asked while quietly chuckling, with Dude blushing a small but noticeable shade of red. Huh, weird.

“Hah, you look cute when you blush.” You chuckled again, enjoying his reactions before he gently grabbed your hand, wearing a concerned expression.

“C’mon, quit joking around. You could’ve died y’know. Tch, you’re a fucking dumbass.” As he spoke his voice was laced with concern, with his eyes constantly darting around. Even with his sunglasses on, it was noticeable as all hell. “Damn, you sound so sappy. It’s disgusting, stop that.” You joked while playfully hitting his shoulder, doing what you could to cheer him up and keep yourself calm at the same time. But well, it wasn’t quite working for either of you.

“Besides, why do you care so much? Not like you’re in love with me or anything.” You continued joking around, but his awful silence and growing blush certainly said another story. “You’re not actually in love with me, right?”

For a good while he remained silent before smirking, quietly laughing as he put an arm around your shoulder, mindful of your wounds. “Of course I am, and I know you are too. What, don’t think I’d notice the little crush you had on me?”

And now was your turn to become flustered. Has it really been so noticeable the whole time? But either way even with his words, you were simply glad that your feelings were mutual. And for the first time in a while, just glad to be alive.

“Well, I’m glad those feelings are mutual.” You softly chuckled before gently grabbing his chin, moving a few loose gray hairs out of the way while admiring his cute ass face. “May I?”

“Of course, my love.”

And with his confirmation, the two of you shared a kiss. And honestly, it was better than you thought. On both ends it remained soft and satisfying, lasting for as long as it needed until the two of you pulled away from each other. The slightly dazed look resting upon his face was certainly a sight to behold.

“You look so fucking cute, y’know that?” You softly smiled at him and his dazed face, with him doing the same. “And so do you, my love. God, I love you so fucking much.” And with his response you continued smiling, resting your forehead against his own. The moment was so nice. It was so peaceful. And the two of you never wanted it to end.

“I love you so much, Dude.”

“Hah... love ya too, my dear.”

[hallothere]

ok so you said you wanted more Situations soooo... 18. Possession/Mind control! for whoever you find most plinko-able at the moment

18. Possession/Mind control  you guys wanna see the worst fan theory ever

I am a man of Gondor, a friend to the Elves and of all good folk. Call me Ergothorn. I see the danger growing in the East and wish to oppose it.

You stand in the copse of trees down the hill from Lhanuch. Your camp is there, the one you’ve been returning to each night between errands. The one with your Company settled securely in it. Techeron is going to start the next watch and waves to you. It’s a quiet cold night. 

Radanir hurries past him with a piece of paper clutched in his hand. He looks around the camp, probably for Halbarad if this is a message from one of the scouts- though, you wonder who would bother to write their report except maybe Corunir- until his eyes settle on you. At least, you think they do. You turn to see if there’s someone behind you. Not Mincham, who seems irritated with Radanir of late and headed off for scouting of his own. Not Candaith, who was probably asleep. You turn back to him since there’s no one behind you. He’s gotten closer, and there’s an odd gleam in his eye. 

“Oh, well-met friend,” he says, “I found this interesting note affixed to a tree and I need to make sure our leader sees this at once.”

“Halbarad is in town.” You say, “I was going to run an errand for Nona. I came back here for my whetstone, but I'm going back to Lhanuch. I can run it up to him.”

Radanir frowns, but then nods. “Ah. If you have an errand already, let me do the delivering. It’s so strange, I really ought to hurry. Halbarad will know what to do with it, of course.”

Lheu Brenin dispatched a messenger from Tûr Morva in Dunland, but the messenger was beset by foes outside Lhaid Ogo in the Lich Bluffs and was dragged within.

Lhaid Ogo is a dreadful place, and you are lucky to find anyone alive in there. Anirin looks around when you arrive alone, but Halbarad only sent you. You explain, and Anirin breathes a sigh of relief.

"I thought someone was- nevermind. Let us hurry on to Lhanuch, for I have a tale to tell from the Falcon clan."

You have to pick your way back out over puddles of ooze and corpses and corpses of kergrim. Anirin blanches at the sight- you're not sure whether in disgust or fear- and you push on all the faster. You would want to stop at the camp before going to Lhanuch, before presenting Anirin to the Brenin for his own sake- but he insists you hurry. You need to find Glynn Brenin and Halbarad and make this tale known.

I cannot reveal myself to you, but trust that I am a friend. I will contact you again when it is safe to do so.

You mourn Wadu in the way his family wants, the way they best honor him. Wadu was brave, you think, and though you knew him only a short time you still grieve. You are grateful, you think, that it was you and neither his sister or his father that came upon him in the road. Even if they had thought him a coward once, it was a terrible shock.

Radanir waits for you again, that odd gleam in his eyes. You sense it means trouble, and you are right.

"I've found another letter- that is, we have received another letter from Ergothorn. I left it on that crate there. If he speaks the truth, we have little time to waste!"

You must defend this dwarf from the uruks! He knows much that, told to the wrong person, could be hurtful to your errand.

Your legs burn as you climb the slopes to Nar's Peak, Radanir ahead of you as he sprung eagerly up the hill. You are ambushed, and only notice the uruks a second before they attack. Radanir is surprised, and does not look until a sword is swinging down at him. He is lucky his reflexes are good, and manages to best the uruk attacking him while you take care of the archer.

"That is all of them. Make your way further up the mountain and find Candaith on the way!"

You do, but that was not all of them.

To the Rangers:

Corunir and Candaith were not sorely hurt, but Corunir remained behind to reassure your new friends at Nar's Peak. Saruman is at the heart of this trouble, you just know, but now the time comes for something to be done. You and the others begin the long journey to Lhanuch. Candaith nurses bruised ribs, Calenglad broods, Golodir sits his horse ramrod straight, and Radanir mulls over the scenery.

Halbarad seems worse than you remember him. His face is haggard and there's a dullness in his eyes that you do not like. Nothing he says puts you at ease either.

"Ergothorn is dead."

That is a blow, for while you know not how, the mysterious man has warned you and helped you all this way. Unraveling the mysteries of Enedwaith, shedding light on the plans of Saruman. And he is dead, like you so nearly were this morning.

"Halbarad's wishes are my own as well. We will walk the Forsaken Road and see what lies within." Radanir gives you a small smile. Quickly, he turns and surveys the expanse of grass and hills beyond.

They who swore the oath to Isildur at Erech -- you know of them and their home beneath the Dwimorberg -- but you do not know that some number of them sought to flee their curse and came to hide in a place called the Forsaken Road, among the Lich Bluffs

You stand near Radanir in the cave, and you are not warmed. He is unusually quiet, and Halbarad is unusually loud. Your leader of course is bold. He does speak with the authority Aragorn bestowed on him... But it is a long, cold road. The Dead are all about it.

Not all remember the old ways, but I do

Candaith gives his life for yours. You scream, possibly, but you do run. You run until tears blur your eyes and you know not the names of all who fall to the shades as you make your escape. As you leave Candaith and the others behind, all to give Halbarad the intelligence he can already guess the nature of. The Dead are traitors to the last, and beyond.

Radanir is there, holding two swords, his face blank.

"What has happened? All of a sudden, the Oath-breakers fell upon us, and we have only driven them off for the moment! We have to get out of here!"

You run past him, ready to bring him out before it is too late. But your nerves are heightened. You leap out of the way before one of the twin swords cleaves your back in twain. Whirling, you see Radanir rising from the follow through. His eyes are dead.

"Where is Candaith? I have not seen him yet."

The smile is wrong now, though it's the same one you've seen all this time. You don't understand the meaning of this, but you do stand ready to fight. You are too shocked not to be prepared for combat. Not after everything you've just seen. It's senseless and nonsensical. Radanir is not himself. You will fight. You will win, and he will see reason, and you will leave this place together.

"Ah. Pity." He says, and his eyes roll back into his head. Radanir drops lifeless to the floor, and a fell shade like the puppet master of Skorgrim rises to the fore. You scream in either fury or grief and banish the thing from your sight.

And you almost leave Radanir with his fallen brothers until you hear a whimper from the floor. He is not lost. But you do not wait for him either and drag him resisting from the Forsaken Road.

Halbarad is outside waiting for you and takes Radanir off your hands. You don't yet have the breath to speak but point away from the cave. Halbarad takes your meaning and Radanir up into his arms and you run. You run to Mincham's camp and he is ready to tend you all.

To your surprise, he sets aside whatever mysterious objection he had to Radanir these last days and sees to him first. You know Mincham is kind and never turns a blind eye to suffering--

You turn. You fight your stomach in a nearby bush. Halbarad is soon there and helps you to stand, lends the only thing you think can possibly help you all now: an ear.

"He..."

You don't get that far just yet. Radanir is coming around, and he frowns blearily at Mincham. "You... supposed to go ahead...? Saeradan called you back to camp...? Where--"

You're nearly sick again as it hits you. He's back at Saeradan's camp. He's been there the whole time, on the inside. Halbarad looks to you in alarm and all you can do is gesture helplessly.

"There was- A shade, in the cave-... He had Radanir... had control of him..."

It was too horrible for words as you remembered. Remembered who found the notes, every last one. Remembered the advice, the odd looks, the handprints on the neck of the man you all thought Ergothorn.

Radanir was looking around now, his eyes wide with fear. "What happened? Where is everyone?"

Neither you nor Halbarad have the words just yet.

[shiny-jr]

Oh my gosh I just took the damnation quiz and IT WAS SO GOOD. I read all the results and I am patiently sitting and waiting for more with immense excitement (especially Pomefiore and Diasomnia. You write Vil so well). I am super curious to see the roles MC will play in those fics. Iirc both the evil queen and Maleficent had a crow henchman that seems like a great fit, but also the invented role for Diviner was 10/10 and I would be so curious to see what you come up with, especially for Pom as some of the major roles at the Queen's side are already represented in the dorm.

In the quiz the endingsvwere all fantastic, but I especially adored the Riddle ending. The King of Hearts idea feels so obvious once you wrote it but I have never seen anyone use the idea before. The general dynamic was just AAAAHHHH. I also loved how MC interacted with the other characters. I screamed when Cater dropped the tea about the old king of hearts. I might have been converted into a Riddle fan--

I read your fics on Quotev back in the day (Possession of Malign was a fav of mine) and it was always a mood of "finally some good f--cking food" I am so glad I found your work again. :))) Hope you are having a great day and thanks again for sharing your lovely work!

Ah, I wish I got a little further on Scarabia's chapter but I've started classes so it's gonna take even longer to write (because they dumped work on the first day, WHO DOES THAT?). Anyways, I'll get it out eventually, I'll probably have a tiny bit of time to write on Friday and the weekend. Maybe. Hopefully. Pray for me y'all.

To be honest, I haven't decided what Diasomnia's mc will be because I haven't gotten that far. At the moment I'm trying to go in order, but if I get an idea that I really want to write, I'll switch over to the draft doc for the other dorm and start writing what I want to before switching back to where I was before. And actually, I had a sneak-peek for Pomefiore and Scarabia's part before! It was in the first one with the Heartslabyul sneak-peek, but I decided to remove the two and just update sneak-peeks in order, with each being about ten pages, more or less. Pretty generous and lengthy sneak-peeks, if I do say so myself. But the Pomefiore one will be up later, the Scarabia one will be first (again, when I have time to write for it).

But I'm glad you enjoyed the quiz and the results! I think Heartslabyul appears to be the fan favorite at the moment. Hoping to copy the goodness and intensity I had for that result into Scarabia, but again, we'll see.

Also another Quotev user that's giving me flashbacks? I started writing that stupid fic when I was in middle school, but I didn't publish it until early high school. That's insane though, I forgot that piece existed. Okay, moving on, I hope that when the next results are completed, that you may enjoy them! Thank you for reading my works, even the older ones!

[astertiae]

YGO Rare Pair Week 2023 Day 2: Hurt/Comfort / Kiss / Rain

I finally banged out some writing! Here is some AsuMac or ReggieAsuka for the yugioh rare pair week because I need to live up to my CEO of AsuMac title oops

You can also read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49407820/chapters/124685782

Fic below, the prompt I went with is Rain with a sprinkling of Hurt/Comfort thrown in:

---

Mac had gotten her ears pierced when she was seven years old, on a Saturday, at a strip mall Claire’s when she sat extremely still in that tall chair as the teen employee pulled out the piercing gun. Her dad squeezed her hand, seemingly more scared than she had been, and said, “You’re so brave, Mac.” She squeezed his hand back, or tried to, noting how warm her dad’s palm was, how it enveloped her hand completely, and the callouses at the joints of his fingers from the pen he used at work pressing against them all the time.

There was a burst of pain, and Mac had squeezed her dad’s hand as hard as she could, to prove to him how brave she was, and then he had helped her pick out an extra pair of earrings to take home. They settled on little silver planets, and her dad let her buy a rainbow choker, too. She stretched it out between her hands on the car ride home, watching the interlocking plastic loops expand and contract. Lulled by the rumbling of the car, she fell asleep, and her dad carried her inside, making sure the choker and earrings didn’t fall from her lap.

A year later, her dad got possessed, and Mac along with him.

The most annoying part was she had gotten used to it. She always hated hearing Tragoedia’s voice, had done her best to rebel against him, but now?

Shaking her head to clear the static didn’t help. It only reminded her of the silence she should enjoy.

She hadn’t worn earrings in nearly six months. After the transmitter shattered, there was too much going on to worry about her ears. Whether her dad was okay, for one. For another, who Mac was. She didn’t like to think about that second point for too long.

The earrings in the store window were small, almost delicate: two silver snowflakes set in the center with the tiniest rhinestone.

“Mac?” Alexis Rhodes’s voice cut through the silence. Mac put on the most neutral expression she could muster before turning to face her. She could never explain how relieved she was, hearing a familiar voice. And a warm one, at that.

Alexis clearly wasn’t bound to the same stoicism, her eyes widening with delight when Mac turned, and her suspicions were confirmed. She held her umbrella over her shoulder, her boots slightly damp. Mac kept herself from flinching as Alexis moved closer, droplets splashing her as they slid off the umbrella.

“Sorry,” Alexis gave her an apologetic smile. “What are you doing out here? Did you forget your umbrella?”

“I didn’t think I would be out so late,” she slipped into a smile easily. “The weather was fine this morning.”

A crack of thunder, the honking of several car horns stuck one after another in a line. How had she not noticed before? Even this was better than the silence that plagued her.

She nodded at Alexis’s umbrella. “I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing. Sheep tokens. Cute.”

Alexis blushed, her hands tightening around the handle. “I’m not. It’s Atticus’s – I borrowed it before I left his dorm last week.” She looked away, stammering, “Well, I mean, I hope he doesn’t need to leave the dorm today, haha! I figured I’d return it before the next time it rained, but it looks like I didn’t. Somehow, that makes me feel kind of bad.”

“Ah,” said Mac. She wished Alexis would look at her again. The big eyes and pink cheeks suited the otherwise usually composed duelist. “That does seem more aligned with what Rhodie would like.”

To Mac’s delight, Alexis’s cheeks reddened further. “That nickname is so embarrassing! I can’t believe he conned people into calling him that.”

She looked so perturbed that a laugh escaped Mac. She held her hand over her mouth as quickly as possible to conceal it, but Alexis met her gaze again, at least.

“I guess I don’t feel as bad about stealing his umbrella now that I know he still goes by that ridiculous nickname.” She turned to the window, her eyes widening when she saw the earrings.

“Speaking of ‘things I didn’t think you’d be into,’ were you looking at those earrings? They’re so cute.” She beamed, her eyes shining despite the gray air. “I didn’t know you liked that kind of thing, either.”

Neither did Mac. Truthfully, she didn’t like earrings like those; or, she wasn’t sure if she did. Too cutesy, childish, even. The Mac she was now didn’t. Maybe the Reggie she could have been, before Tragoedia ruined her life, would like them.

“I was just looking at them to pass the time,” she said instead. “Although,” she continued, watching Alexis lean in closer to the window display, “I think they’d suit you.”

“Me?!” Alexis straightened up so quickly her umbrella dropped a deluge of collected rainwater on her arm. She squeaked in discomfort before waving her free hand in front of her, laughing. Her cheeks had regained that pink tinge Mac liked so much.

Mac bit back a smile. She had never liked the color pink before.

“They’re really pretty,” said Alexis, softly touching the lobe of her ear beneath her hair. “But I don’t have my ears pierced.”

“Shame,” said Mac. “You’d look pretty in them.”

“So would you!” Alexis responded a little too quickly. “I mean, I think you should get them, if you like them. You do have pierced ears, right?” She peered at Mac, squinting like she was trying to see through her hair.

Mac shrugged. “I do. I haven’t worn earrings since the whole, you know, possession thing.”

“Ah, right,” Alexis said. She stood frozen in place.

Another car honked, a long honk. As if in response, the sky opened up, rain pouring down in ear-shattering roars.

“The rain’s really not letting up, huh,” Alexis said, tension broken by the shift in the weather. She gave Mac a small smile, holding her umbrella up slightly. “I’d offer to walk with you, but I don’t know if this umbrella will hold up against,” she glanced at the wall of water beating down from the awning, “that.”

“Thanks for the offer anyway.” Mac leaned back against the wall of the storefront. “Good luck getting back, though.”

“Yeah,” Alexis said, frowning at the rain. “I think it just got worse than it was? How is that even possible?” She took a tentative step forward.

Then, she stopped, closing her umbrella instead.

“What are you doing?” Mac found herself leaning forward, hand partially outstretched toward Alexis.

“Why don’t we walk around the shop a bit first?” Alexis suggested. “We can wait for the rain to die down a little. Plus, I can look for something for Atticus, to make up for stealing his umbrella.”

She turned back to Mac, the barest hint of apprehension written in the curve of her brow.

“Okay,” Mac agreed. Alexis’s sudden smile glowed, so brightly that Mac had to glance behind her to check that the rainclouds had not parted.

They crossed the threshold of the store, greeting the associate in turn when she greeted them.

The earrings winked at them, or at Mac, from the window display. Mac clenched her fist at her side, remembering how her dad held her hand at that Claire’s years ago. She couldn’t remember what had happened to the planet earrings, whether she had thrown them out, or lost them. She never had the chance to swap them out for the starter earrings she got.

“Oh, look!” Alexis exclaimed from the bracelet display. “They have a planet charm line for bracelets. See this gold one? It reminds me of your Shining Venus, Mac. Oh, it’s on sale, too. But I’m not sure if it’s really my style.”

“Tell you what,” Mac said, to avoid saying, those earrings remind me of your Ice Queen. “I’ll buy the earrings if you buy the bracelet.”

Alexis pondered it for a second, her eyes fixed with longing on the bracelet. “Hmm, that wouldn’t leave enough to get Atticus a gift, though.”

“You don’t have to get him anything,” Mac said. “Siblings steal stuff from each other all the time, right? Besides, knowing him, there are plenty of people throwing themselves at a chance to share an umbrella with him if he wanted to go out today.”

Alexis grinned, a grin that reminded Mac of her face when her opponent activated her set traps. “Alright, then. Deal.”

“I’m excited to see you wear your new earrings,” Alexis said, as Mac held up the earrings to her ear in one of the store mirrors.

Maybe they suited her after all.

“Alexis,” Mac said, when she was done.

“What is it?”

“Thank you.”

“Huh? What are you thanking me for?” Alexis asked, her brow crinkling in confusion.

For not leaving me with the silence today. “I needed new earrings today. Thanks for helping me out.”

Alexis laughed. “I’m happy to be of help. It was good to hang out with you, Mac.”

The shopkeeper rung them up, and they walked out the door together, retreating under the awning with their new trinkets. The rain had lightened up, a steady downpour rather than a deluge.

“Should we try to head back to the academy?” Alexis asked, wiggling her umbrella.

Mac agreed. They walked back under the same umbrella without really speaking, letting the rain wash around them like a curtain. The silence wasn’t so bad when she was next to Alexis, Mac decided.

[srprincess]

Guess what!?! It’s Fictober time again! So – new prompts, but I’m still out here (making an attempt at) finishing my same old fic.

Prompt 1 – “No, come back!” // fandom – omgcp // fic rating – T for language reasons

Notes: This is actually chapter 19 of the Spookydoo AU I started last fictober. I can’t believe it’s been an entire year. I guess months worth of pandemic related block and a cross country move will tend to slow these sorts of things down, but, yeah – a year. Wow. Back at the start I had thought this was going to be a quick month long project, but here we are! If you’re still following me from way back then, here’s the long promised update. If you’re new this will make NO SENSE without the rest of the story - and honestly only minimal sense after - so I’ll drop a link to the rest of the story on Ao3 in the replies (since tumblr hates links)

---

“Are you sure I don't need to head back and get them?” Will asked, for the third time.

“Nah, they’re resourceful. Quit worrying,” Nursey told him, also for the third time. At least. Maybe he had asked a few too many times.

He, Nursey, Shitty and Lardo were gathered back around the table in his kitchen, while Sammy sat at the edge of the doorway leading into the mudroom, happily chewing on a length of rope that Will had knotted up for her. He didn't have much to offer in the way of snacks while they waited, but he’d managed to scrounge up a bag of not quite stale pretzels and some cold sodas. Not the best spread, but good enough he didn't think his mom’s memory would judge him too harshly under the circumstances. Said circumstances being that these particular guests and their friends had basically wiped out his pantry over the course of their previous visits.

They were waiting, with varying levels of patience, for Holster and Ransom to show up with their lunches, and - maybe more importantly, it depended on who you asked - to tell them what they'd found out about Lou’s place. Or rather the house that she had been...haunting? It was still hard for Will to think about it that way, about his longtime friend being a ghost, but, well, could he deny it anymore? Honestly? It was strange, but if she was a ghost - which she was - and had been staying in and around the house - which she had - what else could you call it other than a haunting? At any rate, finding out the property had been sitting vacant might have explained how it could have had a ghost-in-residence for so long without attracting too much attention, but it opened up a whole other set of questions. Who would leave a house on the water empty for years? Sure, it needed some upkeep, but still, it was a nice enough place in a great spot. Where were the owners? Why hadn’t they been trying harder to sell it? Or failing that, using the property themselves? He also wanted to know more about how Lou had ended up connected to the property, but that was going to have to come from her and not a simple property search. Unfortunately, she hadn't seemed any too eager to talk about her final days when he and Nursey had talked to her earlier.

After his stomach grumbled, Nursey checked the time, again, and sighed.

“I said I could head back in for them,” Will pointed out. “It’s not an issue-”

“Might be a while, but I’m sure they're on the way,” Shitty assured him. “I think they were looking for an excuse to rent that bike, and a ride’ll take them a minute.”

“Not the tandem!” Lardo shook her head, “I thought we talked them out of that.”

“Yes, the tandem, and you tried to talk them out of it. I, on the other hand, might have offered to pay the fee as long as they took pictures.”

“They'll never make it here in one piece on that thing.”

“Oh, ye of little stature and faith, they are perfectly synced. They'll make it fine.”

“Whatever. Then why did you want pictures, hmmm? A 20 says they'll crash and burn at least once.”

“Hopefully they don’t fall on my sandwich,” Nursey muttered under his breath.

“Because Jack can't be the only one with pictures of these trips, that’s why. So, deal?”

“Deal.” Shitty and Lardo were just shaking on the bet when the sound of tires on the rocks outside was followed by a knock at the door. They all turned to look at Will, who looked blankly back before it clicked -

“Oh. Yeah. My house. My door. Best be getting that.” He rushed to the answer, more to hide his blush than out of a hurry to let the two in.

He opened the door to the double whirlwind that was Ransom and Holster pushing through, arms loaded with bags.

 Shitty took one look at them before holding his hand out to Lardo. “All in one piece. Well, two pieces. As expected. Pay up.”

“Not so fast,” she told him, attempting to shove his hand away before turning to them. “How did you manage to carry all of that on a bike?”

“No bike,” Ransom told her.

“It was already rented,” Holster added.

“Ha!” She slapped Shitty’s hand down. “No payday for you.”

“You neither,” he pointed out.

“Hmmm. I still say you owe me ten,” Lardo argued.

“The hell I do,” Shitty scoffed back.

“But if they would have ridden the bike they would have fallen, and you know it.”

“Says you. Wrongly.”

“My. What an excellent defense. I can see why you're the high-powered attorney here.” Lardo pulled a face at him before stating her case, “If they had tried to ride that bike they likely would have fallen. If they tried to ride it while holding all those bags, they for sure would have. I see no possible way that they would have made it here safely, and so I still deserve half the original bet winnings.”

 “Incorrect,” Shitty took a final sip of his drink and a deep breath before standing. Full attorney mode. “First, both these fine individuals have a history of athletic excellence in a sport known for quick moves requiring great balance skills, coordination and teamwork,” he counted off each point in his hands. “Second, they've been known to safely carry much more than a few bags of food, over unfamiliar terrain, in the dark-”

“Well, I did fall on Rans that one time we-”

Shitty hushed Holster before continuing, “Shhh - You aren't helping the case.”

“Why are we even on trial?” Ransom asked, confused. “Anyways, I remember that. Kind of. You only almost fell, bro, and we were hella fucked up that night.”

“You,” Shitty pointed to Ransom, “are helping. Thank you. As I had said - teamwork. While, errr, shall we say inebriated? They were able to use teamwork to accomplish their goals. Mostly safely. Sober, and in the clear light of day, making it here safely would have been no problem. Thirdly, if the bet had been that they `likely’ would have fallen off the bike with their arms full, I allow that you might have won. Unfortunately, for you, it wasn’t and so you didn’t. In closing, your point is dismissed for being unprovable. Case closed. The End.” He, smugly, picked his cup back up to drain the drink.

“You can't just close the case yourself-” Lardo argued.

“And yet, I have,” Shitty shrugged.

She growled under her breath, “this isn't over,” Lardo pointed at him before asking Ransom and Holster, “So, no bike? How did you get here?”

 Will, who had been watching like the exchange like it was the most interesting show he’d seen in years, and, let’s be real, with television as spotty as it was out there it kind of was, turned to them, curious himself to hear the answer.

Nursey, who had been enjoying watching Will watch the others, said, “Probably an Uber.”

“No Uber round these parts.”

“Fine, Lyft, whatever.”

“Nope, don’t have those either,” Will told him. “We do have a Martha, but there’s no way that’s how they got here.”

“What’s a Martha?” Nursey asked.

“She calls herself a taxi service, but truthfully she’s just a busybody who got herself a fair reliable rig and a business license. Let’s her keep up on who’s new around, see what they're about and then give them a mandatory tour of her favorite places. Takes her forever to get anywhere. Guaranteed it would have taken them at least another hour to get out here with her.”

“An hour!? How is this town even big enough to take that long?”

“Well, if you drop her a ’tip’ she's sure to add your place on the route, yeah? Bunch of shops do every year. That's a lot of side roads and loops. Now me? I throw her some money every season to miss The Light entirely. She would have tried stalling and distracting them as long as possible before heading this way.”

 “So, don’t take ’a Martha’, noted for future.” Ransom cut in.

“We didn't need to anyway,” Holster told the group. “Did you know, if you order food for delivery, you can get yourself delivered along with it?”

“That's not a-” Nursey started to argue before looking to Will for confirmation. “Is that a thing?”

“No. Definitely not a thing.”

Holster gestured at the bags and then at himself and Ransom, “I do believe it is.”

Will frowned, confused, “You know what...I don’t even think they do delivery at all. Outside of town, leastways.”

“You’d be amazed how far friendliness and a smile can get you,” Holster said, flashing a near alarming display of teeth.

“Maybe you should try that sometime, Poindexter,” Nursey joked.

“Ha fucking ha,” Will said, flashing a smile that veered more towards frightening than not.

“Hope you tipped well,” Shitty told Holster, ignoring the shoulder shoving across the table.

“Pfft, of course dude.”

“Good, then. Now, important business, where’s my sammie?”

A whine came from the doorway.

“Sorry, I meant my sandwich, not you Sammy,” Shitty turned to tell the dog. She sniffed in their direction, clearly looking for attention in the form of food of her own but not wanting to leave her new rope unattended. “But, yeah, her food, where’s it at? Guys?”

But he’d lost the attention of Ransom and Holster. With a nudge and a head tilt to where Nursey’s ankle was practically hooked around Will’s, Ransom smirked at Holster, who in turn sighed and pulled some money out of his pocket to hand it over.

Nursery watched the exchange before he narrowed his eyes. “And what’s this about?”

“What?”

“The money?”

“That? He owed me for the, umm, dog dishes.”

“Yeah, sure he did.”

“Right, Holtzy?”

“Absolutely, the dishes. We were going halfsies. Because, uh, gift?”

Ransom scrunched his face up before he mouthed ’gift, really?’ back at him, but Holster just gave a small shrug.

Nursey still looked doubtful and Shitty, who had given up waiting and was rooting through the bags for himself, distracted them when he asked “Well, where are they?

“Where are what?” Ransom asked.

“The. Dog. Dishes.” he answered slowly and deliberately.

“Shit. Fuck. Damn. I, uh, forgot them?”

“Uh-huh,” Nursey shook his head. “You forgot to bring the dishes. That you just bought. As a gift. Suuuure.”

“Don’t worry about it. So long as you brought the food, I can find something to put it in.” Will got up and dug through a cupboard by the sink that was little more than a jumble of used butter tubs and came up with two bowls.

 One bowl he filled with water and set in front of the dog. The other he handed them to Lardo who filled it with some of the food Shitty had found in the bags, leading to a very happy Sammy, who flopped on top of the rope before digging in with enthusiastic messiness.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable? And look at that-” Nursey pointed out the puddles and food pieces spread all around the dog.

“It’s fine,” Will waved him off.

“What about your precious floor? All I did was drip on it the other night and-”

“Oh, let her be. Unlike people, she can’t help it if she makes a silly little mess.” Will ruffled the fur on top of her head. “Besides, she’s a good girl, aren't you Sammy,” Sammy wiggled at the good girl comment and went back to happily working to empty her bowl. Dog mess was fine, Will told himself, nothing he couldn’t clean up later. He wondered if maybe he should consider a dog of his own. The company might be nice. He shrugged off the thought for later and went to wash his hands before grabbing a stack of plates to take to the table.

 All business of bets and money exchanges temporarily forgotten, the gang worked as one to pass around the lunches.

A giant sub was split between Lardo and Shitty. She flicked an olive that had stayed to her half at him, which he easily caught with his mouth before flicking a pepper back towards her. When he went to grab a drink, she swiped another pepper and one of his tomato slices too. Ransom passed her his pickle spears, and she gave him half her lettuce. Holster split his bag of BBQ chips and the salt and vinegar ones in front of Ransom between them 50-50. Okay, maybe 60-40. But neither complained. Instead of being split up, a large bag of fries was just torn open and left for each to pick from as they wanted. Ketchup squeezed out onto one of the wrappers that had previously held a wrap. All the exchanges spoke to the habits of friends who’d shared a meal many times over. Will eyed the onions that Nursey picked off his sandwich, wanting them. Even though no one else had made a move for them, he wasn’t quite brave enough to push his way into their rituals. No matter, because as soon as the look was noticed, he found them deposited on the side of his own plate. Happily piling them on his own sandwich he spared a slice of bacon back, but just one. He wasn’t that generous.

Will had originally thought they had brought back too much food not realizing some of the others had gone, but the reason for the pile of random extra sandwiches dropped in the middle of the table became clear as each was picked apart and passed around until everyone was full.

 As the last scraps of their meal were being cleared away Ransom spoke up, “So, I got in touch with that realtor,” he told them. “The property is up for sale. Technically. Has been for a while.”

“What do you mean, technically? Then why isn't it listed anywhere? Being shown?” Will asked.

“Well, that's the thing. Apparently, they tried? But the seller wasn’t very motivated and only interest at the price was for a package deal.”

“A package-” Will paused and frowned. “Wait. What was the realtor’s name again?”

When Ransom told him, Will’s face clouded over and a hint of rage built up at the set of his jaw.

“So, I take it you do know him. He said you'd, hmmm, spoken? Before.” Ransom filled in the others, “There’d been a big deal in the works with a developer, but they wanted this whole area or no deal.”

 “Yeah. Those assholes. Not likely to forget them. Wanted to turn this place into some ridiculous restaurant.”

“Waterfront restaurants can be nice,” Holster tried to play devil’s advocate, “a good draw for the area.”

Will was having none of it. “My grandfather and father both would roll over in their graves if they knew I sold this place. After all the work they put in on the updates? Especially to some stiff from away. All so someone could open a restaurant we probably wouldn't even be able to afford to eat in? No way. No how. I think not.”

Shitty agreed, “I get it, yeah. People like that’ll suck the soul out of a place to make a buck. Fuck ’em.”

They’d only met recently, and it was hard for Will to tell if Shitty was motivated to agree with him in an attempt to stay on his good side, because he actually did agree or just because he couldn't resist joining in on a potential argument. In any case, fueled by the agreement, Will’s knew he was headed into full ’soapbox mode’ but couldn't help himself. “It’s the developers ruining towns like this all up and down the coast,” his voice rose and his arms flailed as he got more worked up. “For years we’ve helped our own. Didn't need anything from anyone other than basic neighborliness. Share and share alike, and everyone makes it just fine. Then some upstart comes in with his fancy ideas and a pile of money and, and, we’re supposed to sell up and then what? Go where? Do what-”

Holster, who seemed to have finally realized what can of worms he opened up, tried to back it up, “I didn't mean- not your place. Just, like, in general? Attractions, well, attract. But you're here, using the place. There's open land out there and they shouldn’t-”

Will steamrolled on, “-always say they want the authentic experience getaway but that’s not what they're really after. What they really mean is some bland cookie cutter experience that’ll get copied at every seaside town. So they can do the same things and share the same photos as everyone else. Nothing is genuine anymore. Where’s the originality of that? If they have their way every place will be the same as the next. Whatever happened to-”

Ransom held up a hand before interrupting, “Dex is right about that. It does seem to be what they were after here.”

Will grumbled out an “Obviously” but other than that let the other man continue speaking.

 “This particular buyer wanted everything from the lane out to the water. All the lots. They’d had plans to turn this place into a restaurant, private outdoor seating at the top. The couple houses as you’re coming out this way redone and connected by a huge kitchen in the middle to make a big bed and breakfast or inn type situation. And then uh,” Ransom paused, “well, your friend's house? That was going to be turned into a gift shop. Upscale souvenirs they told him. But, without adding the rest, there wouldn't have been the traffic to support a shop. So - all or nothing.”

“There was, and is, no way I'm selling up and moving out,” Will shoved himself back from the table angrily.

“Hey, I’m not saying you should,” Ransom held up his hands. “Just passing on what he said. Pretty sure he knows that now.”

“Why do ya say that? I mean, good, but why?”

“He described you as - now keep in mind this is coming from him, and not me. I think you're great, and so don’t-”

“Spit it out.”

“he-called-you-the-lighthouse-lunatic,” came the quickly murmured answer.

“He what?!” Will yelled.

“Come on man, don't make me say it again,” Ransom said with a wince.

“He called me - Well that's - that’s rude is what it is. Imagine invading a man’s home, after he’s - then you're going to call him names? Rude. Even more glad I didn't sell. Lunatic,” Will huffed.

“I wouldn't call you a lunatic,” Holster said, as the others added their agreement. “You do get...excited, but no.”

“At the risk of getting you all, you know,” Nursey gestured vaguely at Will before scooting himself back to a safe distance and continuing, “I’m just saying, coming from a person you tried to forcibly eject days ago, is it completely inaccurate?”

“Yes!”

“Is it though?”

“I will throw you back into the ocean with my bare hands. Right now. Let’s go.”

 Nursey offered back a weak smile to show he was kidding, mostly, and the rest started to throw out other words in Will’s defense.

“Not lunatic.”

“No, of course not.”

“Excitable?”

“Touchy, edgy?”

“Nah, opinionated?”

“And, fiercely determined”

“Oh, good one.”

“And hermit like?”

“That’s territorial.”

 A woman’s voice from the other side of the room said, “he’s enthusiastically defensive.”

Nursey snaps his fingers. “Exactly!”

“Enthusiastically defensive,” Will repeated before turning and nodding in the direction of Lou, who had appeared over by the sink. “I can accept that.”

She smiled before disappearing again.

 “Okay, so, big picture-” Nursey tried to take control of the conversation, “it boils down to, without Dexy’s place here, the whole deal was off the table.”

“And other than that offer there wasn't any real interest,” Holster, who had listened in on Ransom’s call with the realtor, finished. “With no package deal, and the other house owners not willing to take the low offers coming in, he decided it wasn't worth coming all this way to show it to people who are never going to buy anyway. Without the potential sellers pushing him, he stopped promoting it. He’d almost forgotten about the listing himself because no one has ever checked up with him in the last few years. Said it was like the owners themselves had even forgotten about it.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, what he said, zombie property. But now back to THAT.” Ransom frantically waved his arms. “What the? Who the? Tell me you all heard that.”

“Uhhh well-” Will stalled.  

Ransom looked around at the rest of them, who were visibly trying not to react.

“Is no one going to mention the fucking ghost in the room?!” He shrieked. In a manly way. If you asked him, he would have called it a shout. A very high-pitched shout. That he made while pushing himself as close into the corner, behind the table, as he could.

“Oh, that’s - Lou?”

“Yes, Derek?” she answered from over his shoulder.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to call you, I was just telling him - but since you’re here-”

“Your friends seem a little troubled.”

Will snorted.

Most of them were only staring, quiet, and more than a bit shocked, but remarkable not freaking out. At least not externally. But Ransom - well, his face was doing its best fish impression and - try as he might - he couldn't manage to force another word out.

Holster tried to help by giving him a slap on the back and he managed to eke out the words `girl’ and `ghost’ before slipping under the table.

“Is he...okay?” she asked.

“Eh-” Lardo said, tilting her hand side to side.

“Not really.” Holster reached under the table and gave a supportive shoulder squeeze.

“Hi,” was all Shitty got out.

“Maybe I should go,” Lou said, slowly fading.

“Hi?” Shitty asked.

Will thought it was weird to see her fading, when he’d already found himself getting used to her quickly blipping in and out. Then he realized how weird it was he found himself getting used to anything at all to do with this situation.

“No, come back!” they all yelled. Well, all minus Ransom. He whimpered unintelligibly from his hiding place.

Lou faded back in, “are you sure?”

“Hi.” Shitty repeated, prompting a choked back laugh from Lardo.

“I think he means yes,” Will told her. “Stay a while.”

[plush-rabbit]

The Brothers + Diavolo Making You Flustered

Request: Hi!hi! The aphrodisiac writing was absolutely *chefs kiss*. I have this habit of when I get embarrassed/flustered I immediately bury my face into the surface in front of me. Like if I’m sitting on the floor I’ll lean over and bury my face on the carpet, sitting at a table I’ll lean over and plant my face on the surface etc. How do you think the brothers (+diavolo if that’s okay) would react to seeing MC do that for the first time when they make them flustered? You’re so talented by the way! ily!

Word Count: 1K each

A/N: I hope you like this!! It was a bit difficult since i didn't want to make everything the same, but yeah!!

-

Lucifer:

His sleeves are rolled up, flour coating the tips of his fingers and dusting across his apron, and the smell of garlic and onion fills the room. It smells lovely, it smells like a home. You stand beside Lucifer, watching as the water boils, bubbles fizzling out and steam rising. A box of noodles is held in your hands, your eyes peering over to where the bread is held in his hands. Your tongue peeks between your lips- it’s a soft pink, tinged with blue from candy and for a moment, he forgets himself, wanting to taste the candy that rests on your tongue, wishing that he were your lips to feel the gentle caress of your tongue.

“Remind me what we’re making again?” You ask, sniffing at the pot, only to scrunch your nose at the scent. “And why it’s us making it?”

“A Devildom dish,” he responds, giving a side glance. “It’s similar enough to a human cousine, so you needn’t worry about it being anything unsavory.” He turns to you, his smile almost teasing. “And we’re making it because it’s our turn on cooking duty.”

“If you wanted to spend time with me, you could always ask.” While your words are true, he tries to hold his composure, not wanting to reveal that you had hit the nail on its head. “You don’t have to assign us both to cooking duty. It’s pretty sneaky for you, dear Lucifer.” Your hand pats at his back and he promptly turns away from you

Walking away from you, he starts the timer on the oven, the preheat button lights up as the oven begins to glow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I drew our names on a complete random.” He turns to you, his smile making you unable to see what he’s really thinking. “Do you not wish to spend time with me?” he asks cooly, walking towards you. Despite the flour on his hands that dusts over his face, and the apron wrapped around him, he still holds an aura of confidence and authority that makes you break away from his gaze first.

“You’re absolutely awful,” you mutter, giving him a grin to let him know that it was a playful insult.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he coos, his grin wicked and cool at the same time. “I must not be totally awful if you still wish to spend time with me.” You groan, shaking your head with a smile on your lips and he turns to hide his more giddy smile, smiling calmly when the oven beeps. The preheat session is done. He opens the oven, a wave of hot air making him knit his brows together for a moment. “There’s no need to be ashamed of being so fond of me. I am Pride, it’s only natural that you would gravitate towards me.” He grabs the rack of bread, carefully slipping it inside the oven and closing the door.

“Well you’re a lot more than Pride to me.” His eyes widen and he turns to you, his body facing towards the oven with his head half-turned. “You’re Lucifer. You’re someone close to me and well, I actually am glad that we got to spend time together. I would love to hear you admit that you simply wanted to spend time with me, but-” you shrug- “you’ve got that stubborn pride that I can’t help but adore.” You turn to him, a cheeky smile on your face that matches the light in your eyes.

It’s silent between the two of you. It’s comforting, one that is welcomed and isn’t making either of you awkward. He watches as you carefully stir the pot, your index skimming under the words of the cookbook. Your brows furrow as you carefully read over the direction, careful to not add the wrong ingredient or wrong measurement. You’re methodical, carefully going about everything, and in the kitchen with Lucifer, he can’t help but smile at you, his smile soft and eyes crinkled as he watches you carefully.

“I know I haven’t told you this enough- or perhaps before-” silverware clinks together as he reaches over from a baking brush, his eyes never leaving yours- “but I’m actually quite proud of you.” He tears his gaze away from you, his smile widening and his chest puffing. “You have this knack about you that makes it so easy for others to fall for you, that I have to admit that even I have fallen victim to you.” The baguettes are painted over with a mixture of garlic and spices, his words never stopping or falling to hesitation as he speaks. “You’re-” he sighs, not knowing how to put what he wants to say into words- “I’ve been Lucifer for such a long time, living and holding power, but I must say, when I’m around you, I feel more me than I ever had in my entire existence.” He turns his body to you, his hands open and knuckles brushing over your cheek, a thin line of white left against your face. “I’m glad that I’ve gotten to meet you.”

His eyes widen, his words finally registering to his ears. He looks up, eyes meeting the stone wall before he turns to you, his mouth agape and hands still holding a baguette, and the baking brush. The garlic and onion sizzle on the stove, the yellow glow of the kitchen and the buzzing sounds of the outside do everything to fill the room, not a single ounce of silence is graced to either of you.

“You can’t just say stuff like that!” You say in a hurried tone, your face hot enough that you can feel sweat start to bead. “It’s- It’s-” you can’t find the proper words, it isn’t embarrassing but it isn’t something that you hear everyday- “Ah!” You decided, burying your face further into the table, your hands cushioning the blow.

His hand claps over your back, slowly rubbing between your shoulder blades in an attempt to soothe you over. “I would have thought you would have enjoyed hearing the truth,” he teases lightly. “Was I wrong about that assumption?” he presses, his elbow nudging against your shoulder where you still lay with your head rested in your hands.

You peer upwards, your face slowly revealed to show a flushed color that makes his chest puff with pride, his smile . “You wanna know why I know that you wanted to spend time with me?” Lucifer raises his brows in confusion. “I hadn’t written down my name yet.” His smile twitches away for a moment. “You called it before I could even write my name down.” You smile at him, your smile gentle. “I still have the paper in my pocket. You really like me, huh Lucifer?”

Mammon:

Textbooks are left open, pencils and pens sprawled over the coffee table as you and Mammon rest on the couch. He talks vividly, and as he’s excited to tell you stories of his past, his mouth works faster, skipping over details and returning to them moments later. Your hands are wrapped tight around his bicep, your face hidden as you try to stifle your laughter. He can feel your hands tighten, the way that you cling to him and even try to push yourself closer to him. “So that was when I decided to just grab all the things I could carry and just book it!” Mammon exclaims, clapping his hands together and extending his right arm forward. “You should’ve seen how angry those witches were, but hell, they deserved it for thinking they could pull one over on me.” He turns to you, his grin wicked, slowly widening as he leans back cautiously to not let you move away from him. “Fuckers should’ve known to not touch my stuff.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head and leaning onto him. His smile twitches for a second, softening into a gentler smile, watching as you turn your face into his arm, trying to stifle your laughter. It’s loud, infectious and it’s something that reminds him of a spring day that he once spent in the Human Realm. He isn’t sure how to explain it- something about it that screams life and youth, something that sounds so unapologetically like you, that it makes him breathless. When you start to pull away, he lets his grin widen, eager to look at you again.

He’s so close to you, your hand within arm’s reach that if he really wanted to, he could just take it in his. His mouth goes dry, his tongue too invasive in his own mouth and he watches as you adjust your hair, his eyes fixated on how your hair slips through your fingers. There are words stuck in his throat, but no matter what he thinks of to say, he isn’t sure what he should say. He’s at a loss, wondering what would be the perfect way to bring back the mood, to continue the conversation without it being forced, but in all honesty, he’s fine, just sitting here with you. He’s more than fine with just staring at you.

“Hey, Mammon?” He jolts at his name being said, a shock running through his spine. He nods his head, swallowing what little saliva is in his mouth. “I really like hearing your stories, you know?” You smile softly at the book in your hands. He watches you with unblinking eyes, wondering what it is that you’re getting at. “I really just like listening to your voice. I know you were stuck with me at first-” internally he flinches, he doesn’t like to reminisce when you were first put under his charge- “but I’m glad that it was you.” He is left breathless, his muscles tense as you look at him, a smile stretching past your lips and gracing your lips. You look at him for a moment, your eyes darting to where his hand is clenched tightly and you nod to yourself, turning your attention back to the book.

You’re facing away from him, your fingertips tracing over the edge of a page as you try to focus on the words but he can tell from the pout on your lips that you aren’t registering anything from the book. What should he say? What can he say? He knows he has to say something. He knows that he should match your energy or at least attempt to but he can’t. There are so many things he wants to tell you, and they all seem so disorganized. You’re pretty. You’re nice to him and you always let him sneak into your bedroom late at night. You rely on him and as much as you need him, he needs you more. You have such a soft touch that it leaves him tingling all over as if some ghost were the one responsible for it. He lets out a slow breath, his lips parted slightly as he breathes out. “You know,” he says quietly, his fingers twitching and moving to clutch at the end of your shirt, “you got a real nice laugh. It’s nice to spend time with you, ya know?” Once he’s started talking, he’s unable to quiet himself, unable to register the things that he’s saying to you. “I like hanging out with other demons and all, but there’s something about you that I like more. It’s like with you-” his hand waves in the air, eyes glancing around your room- “I get to just feel safe. I get to relax and know that I can count on you. And I want you to know that no matter what, I’ll always be on your side. Forever and ever.” Mammon turns his head, his smile stretched wide and hand going to cover yours. “You turned me into a sap, ya know?’”

The moment is tender as he smiles down at you, only to slowly realize the weight of his words as you stop in your movements, your fingers letting the page fall back to the others, words lost upon themselves as your shoulders rise. His eyes widen and his lips thin. Heat creeps upwards from his chest and scorches its way to mar his features, his face turning into a darker shade as he flushes. His mouth goes dry, unable to produce any type of saliva as he sits beside you. Slowly, his mouth parts, and he’s unable to find the words to deny what he just said, but before he can, you curl in on yourself, burying your way into your hands, your hands spread and fingers parting to cover as much of your face as it can.

“I-” he coughs loudly into the rook of his elbow. You can tell that he wants to resort to his usual denial of feelings but he stops himself before he can even reach the middle of his sentence. “Listen, just because you-” you can feel his eyes on you- “will ya look up at me? I’m not gonna tear your head off or anything, I just don’t want you getting a bigger head than you already have.” You slowly turn to him, watching as he tries to avoid your gaze. “Let’s just go get a bite to eat. We can’t study on empty stomachs or whatever.” He rises quickly, his hand held out to you as he keeps his attention out on the door. “Come on, I’ll pay for ya and everything.”

Your lips thin and you look at his hand. You inhale a sharp breath of air, slowly letting it go. His face is still flushed, a deep color that burns against his skin. “Like a date?” You ask, hoping to see more of his reactions. He stiffens at your question, his brows furrowing to meet each other. He stammers out a response, clearly flustered. You lay your hand on his and he immediately quiets down. You smile at yourself, your heart skipping a beat as you realize that it was you who brought him to such a state. Slowly, his hand curls with yours and he gives a brief nod of his head.

Leviathan:

Leviathan sits alone in his room, a blanket pooled around his lower half, his eyes have begun to burn, tinged with red from lack of sleep as bright colors flash across his pale face. An empty bowl save for kernels that rest at the bottom of the bowl, his fingertips tinged with red and he can feel his mouth heavy with acid and past snacks.

His hands tap against his controller, his fingers already reaching toward a button before he can even register what he should press. His mind is on autopilot, reaching and stiffening when an enemy nears and even so, his character is still killed. He lets out a frustrated groan, careful to throw his controller towards his pillows and not the walls- he can’t risk losing yet another controller; least of all having to patch a hole- or in his case, covering it with a poster. His hands are thrown into the air, fingers outstretched before they are curled into a fist. He arches his back forward, the heels of his hands cushioning his eyes. He tears up slightly, wincing at the sudden realization of burning pain that lingers in his eyes. Slowly, he pulls away just in time to hear his door creak open.

“Password,” he says with a lack of conviction, turning slightly to watch as you enter with a bag in your hand. He raises his brows, his arm stretching outward as he blindly searches for his controller. “What do you have there?” He jerks his chin, returning his attention to the game in front of him.

The light clicks on- something bright that fills the room in a soft blue that stretches around him. He winces at the sudden light, the controller dropped onto his lap as he rubs his eyes vigorously. If it weren’t obvious enough that he kept himself secluded in his room, it was obvious from the way that he rubbed at his eyes, and had to blink multiple times before he could finally look at you without shielding his eyes. You end him a wicked smile that slowly grows until you reveal your teeth, the bag in your hand held slightly tighter. In response, he sticks his tongue out at you, his cheeks tinted with a pale shade of pink.

“I’m surprised it’s taken you so long to defeat the boss,” you say, walking towards the bathtub where he sits. You sit in front of the porcelain, your gaze fixated on a television system that he has set up for a more immersive gameplay experience. When you are met with a lack of response, you turn your head to see him with narrowed eyes. “What? No witty remark?” Once more, you’re met with silence. “Levi?”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “I- Fuck, you know?” This time, he’s met with silence. “First, I can’t get the concert tickets, then I can’t even get the new figure and now, I can’t even defeat this stupid game.” His cheeks fill with air, and he slowly lets the breath go past his lips. “And the concert was going to have passes to meet them behind the stage and the figure was signed and-” his character dies once more and the controller is tossed pitifully onto the pillow. He leans over the tub, his arms crossed under his chin, and his eyes on you. “My luck isn’t usually so bad, you know?”

You pat the floor beside you, your hand meeting the cold tile. “Come on, sit beside me,” you comment, shuffling over a few inches to give him even more space. With a huff, he rises out of the tub, small bits of crumbs falling onto the porcelain. He sits beside you, his arm brushing against yours but neither of you make an effort to move.

“I’m sitting, now what?” He asks, the television blurry as it replays his death with the words “Game Over” in bold letters.

“Well, Levi-” you hand him the bag, with fingers pinched over the handles- “since you’re having such rotten luck, why don’t you open the bag?”

He gives you a narrowed stare, slowly retrieving the bag from you and pulling out the pastel colored tissue paper. At the bottom of the bag sits a box, the words of a favorite anime of his stamped beside with the usual font. His heart skips a beat, as he slowly clasps his hand around the box, his fingers pushing against the plastic and he gaps, reality crashing onto him like a wave.

“It’s-” he doesn’t even finish saying the sentence, your nod is an answer to everything. “The figure that I wanted- I- How?” He asks, looking at the box, so worried that if he were to take his eyes away, the box would vanish.

“Ah, ah-” you wag your finger in the air- “that is a story for another time, my dear Leviathan.” You sound so smug and a smile is already evident in your words.

He bounces in his seat, his legs shaking rapidly, knees softly knocking against each other as he lets his excitement show. His hands flap eagerly, his smile wide and eyes closed. A sharp breath is sucked between his teeth, as he stares at you with bright eyes. You’re startled, your shoulders raising a few centimeters into the air with wide eyes as you stare at him. A nervous smile stretches across your face with him so close to you and looking at you with such eager eyes. If you were to be honest with yourself, you’re a bit flustered with how he looks at you. Your heart races and it beats against your chest, rattling at your ribs and echoing against your body. You nod rapidly, gulping what little moisture you have in your mouth when he grabs your hands tightly in him.

He shouts your name, enthusiasm laced into his word, his hands pulling yours close to his chest. “Ah! You’re the absolute best!” His smile is so wide that it’s almost comical, leaving you smiling both in response to and because of him. “I’m so glad that you’re here! Of course, you’d be my Henry!” He drops your hands and pulls you in for a hug, squeezing tightly around you, his head nuzzled into the curve of your neck. “I don’t know what I would do without you, but I’m just glad that you’re the one that’s with me!” He pulls away, his hands now holding onto your biceps. Deep breaths exhale through him, his chest rising and dipping rhythmically. He calls your name and it’s sweet like honey on his tongue. “You really are the best. I mean,” his tone becomes softer, his smile less eager and more true, “you do so much for me. I couldn't ever imagine my life without you. You mean so much to me.”

“Levi,” you mumble, and when his hands fall from you and return to hold the box, you pull the bag towards your face, hiding away from him. Your neck grows hot, scorching your skin and making you breathless. “I’m glad that you like it,” you manage to squeak out, the bag further pressed towards you.

A few seconds pass until he finally realizes why you’ve pulled the bag to your face. Leviathan stiffens, clearing his throat and turning away, his hand covering his lower half of the face. The figurine sits beside him with a delicate smile plastered on their face. With the air so light and heavy, he reached into the tub, eager to pull out the controller. With a meek cough, he fumbles with the controller, passing it over to you, with his eyes still glued on the figurine. “Would you like a turn? Maybe you’re better than me.” He can feel his chest tighten when his fingertips brush against yours and the hundredth time, the game tune plays in the room.

Satan:

Satan’s eyes narrow unconsciously as he reads over the same page for the tenth time. No matter what, he is unable to focus on the words, the letters and lines meshing into one that nothing fully registers past the first word of the page. If he were to be honest with himself, nothing has registered since the last few pages that he’s read. With a huff, he closes the book, a small gust of air blowing at the hair that rests over his forehead. The book rests on the table beside him, nudging against the lamp that makes the room flicker for a brief moment.

The room is filled with sound, the hum of the air conditioner unit, the distant sounds of footsteps and talk across the house, the demonic animals that roam around outside. He’s sure that if he were to focus, he’d even hear the scratching of a pen. Scratch that- he can now that he thought about it. All the sounds make his skin crawl, uncomfortable and itchy and as he drags his nails across his arm, he’s only offered a second of relief before the feeling returns. He leans against the chair, his neck arched over the back of it, as he lets his eyes flutter to a close, the bright light of the library barely shining through his closed eyelids. It’s not like to be so distracted- especially when it comes to a favorite pastime of his. And yet, his mind is distracted, wandering to images of you where you were talking to others that weren’t him. He isn’t the jealous type- at least, not when he compares himself to his brother, but it seems that you brought out something different for him.

His leg twitches and there’s a burning sensation on his arm that he chooses to ignore. It only intensifies when he hears footsteps approaching. The sensation spreads and becomes sharper, insatiable as it burrows itself in the demon. There is a presence standing beside him and he already knows that it’s you. He can tell by the steps, by the breathing, by your scent. He frowns at the thought. He doesn’t know if it’s romantic or not to know such small details about you.

Something clicks- your knee, perhaps- and your hand rests above his slender one, cupping and still, there are gaps where his skin is unfortunate enough to not to be touched by you. “Satan?” You call out to him in a quiet voice- not quite a whisper but not your usual volume either. “Are you asleep?”

“Is it you wondering or someone else?” He responds, slowly opening his eyes and turning his head, meeting the top of yours. “Is there something that you need?” He makes no effort to move, stuck in his position as he is content just sitting on a chair with your hand over his.

“It’s me,” you answer him, turning your head to meet his eyes. His lips slowly turn into a smile with his eyes slowly growing heavy. “You don’t normally sleep in the library without cause. You okay?” Your hand slips from his and his eyes widen his hand closing into a fist, already missing your touch. But, he is soon reconnected with your hand as it rests on his forehead. You soon look down at him with pursed lips. “I- uh, I can’t tell if you have a fever or not.”

He smiles at you and sits up straight, holding in a moan when his back is already sore, feeling the muscles whine as they had already grown taut. “No- No I just, I have quite a few things on my mind, is all.” He gingerly goes to grab your hand in his, uncaring that your eyes are on him and that the door is open for anyone to walk in and see Wrath so tender. “I’m sorry that I worried you.”

Your hand in his is turned, pulled slightly away but not enough to be taken away from his grasp. You walk from the side of the chair to stand in front of him, and when you meet his eyes, you nod down, gesturing to his lap. He smiles softly, nodding his head and leaning back, humming under his breath when you situate yourself on his lap, your head resting on his shoulder.

“You’re oddly touchy today,” he comments, his hand curved on your lap as the one he held is moved to behind his neck, your fingertips barely touching his collarbone. “Did I do something to deserve this?”

You give a half-hearted hum, and in the corner of his eye, he can tell that you have closed your eyes. “Think of it as a way to make you feel better.” You give him a play tap and he nods, his eyes staring straight ahead, lost against the colorful spines of the books. “So what does have you so worked up?”

Is now his chance? Is he now able to tell you the full extent of his feelings? He has you sitting on his lap, comforting him in a way that few people would ever dare to. There's feelings there, bubbling and forming on both ends and he knows that it’s both ends. It’s you that is on his mind. Filtering in when you shouldn’t, invading every space of his that he has until he’s completely overwhelmed. It’s a strong feeling, something that rivals his own wrath and for the first time, he welcomes it- he doesn’t put up a fight against it. He wants to feel whatever it is that you make him feel. He wants the intensity of it until he’s exhausted, until the wrath that has been boiling inside of him ever since he can remember, can finally evaporate, can finally be extinguished.

You call his name once more and he looks at you, his smile tight and eyes closed for a moment. “How do I tell you that I care for you in a way that says exactly what I’m trying to say without scaring you off?” His eyes close and his hand turns over on your thigh, palm open and empty. “How do I tell you that you’re the thing on my mind? That it’s you that is reducing me into a mess at the simple thought of you.” He turns his head enough, shrugging his shoulder to make sure that you’re looking back at him, your chest still and the hand that you had relaxed, is slowly crawling over to his open one. “The thought of you warps into this- this jealous demon that isn’t exactly something I’m fond of. I you to myself and yet, that I want you to myself and that the thought of you with anyone else, makes me more of wrath than I have ever been.” Your hand closes above his and he nods slowly, clasping his hand over yours. “It’s you, and it’ll always be you.”

With a jolt, his words finally register to him. He turns to face you, but you’re buried into his shoulder, your hand holding tightly onto his, as if he were your lifeline and the one over his shoulder is grasping at his sweater, bunching the knit fabric into a mess. Your heart beats over the sound of the room, the hum of the electricity erased, the steps and chatter muffled under you. He smiles softly, a slow chuckle taking over, until he’s laughing widely, his chest shaking and vibrating under you with every laugh. You moan his name and he can only say the first letters of an apology before his laughter takes over.

“Really, really- I’m not laughing at you,” he says through an attempt at laughter. “I just forgot how different you are. How you always seem to change depending on your mood.” He feels a harsh pat against him, your head shaking as you press further into him. “Please, never change,” he says with a laugh at the end, his head turning, his lips meeting against the side of yours in a quick press.

Asmodeus:

He’s flawless. He has to be. Or, maybe he’s just naturally like that. You are not the best when it comes to reading Asmodeus- too enthralled by him that you can’t seemingly tell when he’s told a joke or not that pertains to his beauty. Very little of it matters to you- you may appreciate that he is quite gorgeous, but you’ve also gotten to know the demon that embodies Lust.

Perhaps it’s because he knows who he is, that he is Lust, that he has to appear the best at all times. He can never make a mistake or it’ll be all that’s talked about- he knows as well as anyone else how easily a reputation can be damaged. However, when he looks at you, he doesn’t have to worry about that. He still wants to look his best for you, but he knows that if he were to slip, you wouldn’t see him any differently than how others see him.

You sleep beside him, nestled under his covers, the blanket pulled a little bit past your lips. Your hair is askew, small strands that stick up or curl around your face. Slowly, he takes a slender finger and softens the hair back to you, smiling when you try to lean into his touch. Your eyes flutter open, and you turn before he can see you, yawning and stretching your arms upwards, the cover crumpling above you. You lie still for a few more seconds and he sits upwards, daring to peek at your face. As if already knowing that he was going to watch you, you run a hand through your hair in an attempt to make yourself look more refined, to fix your appearance before him. You rub your eyes with a knuckle, turning to him and opening your mouth only to have a yawn cut through.

“Did you have a good nap?” Asmodeus asks, watching as you stretch your limbs, your muscles pulled taut as you let out a whine of satisfaction. You nod in response to him. “I’m glad. You know, I do have to tell you that you were right. I try not to ruin my sleep schedule but that nap felt simply divine. I think I feel more rested than I usually do.”

You smile at him, turning over to rest your head on his chest. His hand immediately comes to curve over the back of your head. “I like sleeping with you. You have such a soft bed and you always give such nice hugs.” He laughs in response, his hand lowering to hold near your shoulder. “It’s true. Devildom is still-” you take a brief pause- “different. And somehow, when I’m with you, all my worries are just-” you blow out a gentle puff of air- “gone.”

“I’m here for whenever you need me. All you have to do is just call,” he comments, his hand running past the sleeve of your shirt, his index and middle fingers touching against your warm skin. “I think it’s almost time for dinner. Would you like to accompany me? I’d be more than happy to take you to that little restaurant we found the other day.”

The edge of your sleeve is toyed with, pinched between the fingers and released. His hand returns to where it lay only to be disturbed when you rise, causing his hand to rest beside him. You give him a blinding smile that makes his heart flutter as he looks at you. “I’d be more than happy to, but I would like to get ready before we go out.” He raises a brow at you, tilting his head to encourage you to continue. “I want to look my best for you.” You lean forward and he smiles, fully ready for a kiss, only to have you pull away and kiss his shoulder. He frowns, his lips pushing towards a pout as he looks at you.

“Not even a kiss?” He asks, a tease of playfulness loosely attached to his words. “I have to say that I’m hurt.” He watches as you move, curling your legs underneath you as you watch him with a hint of smile on your face. “After all that I do for you, and yet, you have the gall to deny me a simple kiss?” he lets out a huff, not trying to hide the smile that graces his features and you. “You should be ashamed of yourself. There are demons who would kiss my steps to even look at me.”

“Asmo,” you call to him and he quiets, looking at you with expectant eyes. Despite him being the demon who can be considered one of the strongest- and is- you’re still the one who holds all the power in the relationship. He nods, encouraging you to continue. “Why do you want to go out with me?”

He can’t help the smile that forms, that twists the already playful one into something more bitter. It’s a question that he asked himself the first time he realized his feelings towards you. He could have it all and you’re just a human with minimal magical abilities. He’s met countless lifeforms who were and are beautiful, their beauty forever imprinted and never seeming to age. But, he still chooses you. And he’s content with that. He’s more than happy that he’s with you.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, his eyes focused on your cupid’s bow. “You know, there are times when I look at you and I wonder if you see yourself the way that I see you.” He knows what to say, it all comes so natural to him when he compliments you. “Your scars and blemishes, the stretch marks around your tummy and how they pale and wrap around you. The little moles that you have are kissed along your sides and cheeks.” His thumb moves down and now his hand holds yours. “I have to be perfect- I have to be loved and admired, but then I see you and I think to myself how as long as I’m loved by you, that’s enough. You really have changed me in a way I never saw myself. Beauty means everything to me- or at least it did. But now I have you, and I have to admit, that I prefer you over anything else in the world.” He leans forward and lets his lips press against the corners of yours. “I want to go out with you, because to me, you’re the best that there will ever be.”

It all happens in a flash, seeing your face darken, feeling the hand slowly shake and then your face is hidden by the covers. He can hear you whine his name, and when his hand touches between your shoulder blades, his nimble fingers reaching above the collar of your shirt and touching your neck, he can feel how hot it is. He laughs as his arms reach around you and pull you close to him, giggling and accepting your odd human behavior.

Beelzebub:

Detention is quiet, save for the ticking of the clock, but other than that it’s silent. The room is occupied by a total of three people- you, Beelzebub, and the unfortunate professor that is stuck to watch over the two of you who scrolls through their D.D.D. while music plays loudly every now and then. You suspect they are on an app similar to one from the Human Realm, complete with word play and aesthetic from Devildom.

You turn over to Beelzebub, quirking your brows when you see him scribbling over a paper with a pen. You peer over, sitting straighter to get a closer look only to find him mindlessly doodling, similar drawings cover the paper in blue ink. As if feeling your stare, he turns to you with slightly wide eyes before relaxing them, sending you a smile and raising his paper, to show you his work. You return the smile, pleased at his cute antics and his boyish smile. You send him a thumbs up, before the professor coughs, catching the attention from the two of you.

They stand up, their tail curling around their leg and with a yawn, they expose their teeth. Their phone is stuffed into their pocket as they slowly walk to the front of the desk. “I’ll be back. I expect the two of you to still be here. You both have an hour left.” With that, they walk to the door, the heels of their shoes clicking, the door creaking before it finally closes leaving you and Beelzebub alone in a room.

Immediately, you turn to Beelzebub, your chair squeaking as you shift it hastily. “Beel,” you say excitedly, patting your hands on your thighs. He answers with a hum, tilting his head to the side to show that he is listening to you. “You have power over the professors, don't you?” You see the corner of his lip twitch upwards. “I mean you're the Avatar of Gluttony, can’t you just get us both out of here?”

The pen is set down and he leans back on his chair, his legs sliding underneath the desk until they are stretched to their full length. He turns to you, his smile lazy and eyes half-lidded. “I don’t feel like getting in trouble anymore than I already have.” His smile is crooked, teeth barely glimpsing from behind his lips.

“But we’re already in trouble,” you try to argue, pushing forward. “Please?” You lean forward, holding onto his bicep, with a pout on your lips. “If I use the pact powers, I’ll probably be the only one in trouble.”

He snickers, crossing his arms and lowering his head to side his smile. “We have an hour.” He looks up at you, a hand coming to cover yours. “Just sit and wait, okay? I’ll treat you out later.” You stick your tongue out at him and he laughs, pulling away from your touch and turning his own chair to face you, his hand resting over the desk, pulling on the tip of the pen until it is pulled underneath his hand. “What makes you want to go home so early anyways?”

“Why don’t you wanna go home?” You shoot back, your arm bent above the desk, with your chin resting on the palm of your hand. He shrugs in response, his attention back to the paper as he starts to bounce the pen between his index finger and thumb. “What are you drawing, anyways?” it doesn’t go unnoticed that he stiffens at your question, his lips pulling into a thin line as his leg starts to bounce. “It’s the same image, right? Like the same character that you’re drawing?” You lean closer, watching as he bounces the pen faster in his hand.

“It’s- It’s for art class,” he responds, clearing his throat. His hands grab at the paper and for a moment you think he’s about to crumble the paper, but instead he slips it between a notebook, careful to not let an edge slip out before it’s stuffed into his bag. “We have to draw-” he hesitates, squirming under your attention- “a thing.”

“I thought sports took care of your electives?” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, turning his attention to the board smeared with chalky remains. “Oh? Are you lying to me?” Your hand flutters to your heart, your voice faux hurt as your slump over in your seat. “Beelzebub, I’m actually hurt. Here I thought we were close and yet-”

“I’m drawing you,” he says, effectively making you stop in your theatrics. You turn to him, your mouth parted. “I wanted to draw you and give it to you as a gift but I can’t get your smile right.”

“Well that didn’t take much probing,” you mutter, scooting your chair closer to him, the toe of your shoe nudging against his backpack.

“I don’t like lying to you,” he states, his body becoming still and eyes returning to where you sit so close to him. Close enough where he can smell your cream. “I just didn’t want you to find out.”

There’s silence between the both of you, your lips pursed as you nod. “My smile?” He nods. “It should be simple, shouldn’t it?” Just a curve and some smaller curves for the lips and boom, you’re done.” You grab his backpack, holding it in your hands, the opening pointed towards him.

“No,” he says with a frown, pulling the same notebook out and slipping out the paper. Upon closer inspection, the images of what appears to be you are roughly scribbled. They aren’t the best but the thought of him drawing something for you and being nervous about you finding out makes the drawing much sweeter. “You have a nice smile. It’s like- like,” you look up at him to see his brows furrowed. “I don’t know how to explain it. Your smile is nice. It’s a lot more than nice. When you smile at me, it’s just nice. I like seeing you happy. You smiling at me makes me feel special and I don’t want to half-ass some drawing of you. I want to make it special because you’re special to me. Your smile makes me feel warm, like I’m being hugged and everytime you smile, it always reaches your eyes and when your eyes crinkle, it’s like you’re just looking at me and that makes me feel so-” he takes a deep sigh and releases it slowly- “so safe.” His words come to a soft close, his face a warm shade of red. He lets out a nervous chuckle. “That sounds dumb, doesn’t it?” When he looks at you, you’ve curled into a ball in your seat, your face buried into his backpack. He calls your name frantically, his hands on your shoulders, only to pull away when you let out a high-pitched whine. “Did I offend you?” His name is muffled between the fabric. “Yeah?”

“You’re really sweet,” you moan pitifully, clutching the bag tighter, hoping that it effectively hides your burning face. “I think I’ll actually die from what you just said.” Your heart beats in your chest, the sweet confession echoing in your ears and when you smile, you can only hide it, not wanting him to see the wide grin that is now plastered across your face. “I’ll take any drawing that you give me.” You hold your hand out, ready to receive the unfinished work, not yet lifting your head.

His hand covers your outstretched one. “Maybe if I can see your smile right now, I’d be able to get it right,” he teases slightly. Your only response is shaking your head, giggling through the fabric as you feebly try to shake his hand away. He laughs widely, holding your hand tighter as he urges for you to look upward at him.

Belphegor:

The room is quiet, no footsteps that echo from above, no noise that travels from the stairs into the room that was once Belphegor’s prison. Beside him, you lay curled on your side, resting against him, your hand playing with a drawstring of his hoodie, playing with the frayed ends at your fingertips.

“I thought being around you would make me sleepy,” you murmur, an ill-placed yawn ruining the validity of your statement.

Even where he lays, he knows that you’re pouting, with your brows knitted together. “It seems that I am already making you quite tired. You only lasted how long?” He’d make a show of checking his nonexistent watch, but he rather not, already too comfortable in his current position to risk moving. You blow a raspberry in response and he lets out a giggle, his hand that is placed underneath you is bent to hold a strand of your hair in between his fingers. “Come on, be nice now. I can also make you unbelievably tired but unable to sleep.”

“You’re so cruel Belphegor,” you say in a whisper, your hand finally still from playing with his drawstring. “You’d take away my sleep for a simple noise? How juvenile,” you tease, nuzzling further into his side, humming when his fingers part through your hair and scratch lightly at your scalp. “Here I am, whisked away from my homework to come and nap beside you. And what do I get in return? Teasing.” The last word slowly drifted off into a simple breath of air that was tickled against his side.

It really hadn’t taken you so long to fall under his own sleeping spell. A part of him is a bit bitter, wanting to spend more time with you where the both of you were conscious and could actually talk, while the other part of him, is simply glad that you’re resting beside him, that you’ve taken time out of your day to lay next to him.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it,” he says through a smile, twisting your hair around his index. “I mean, out of all the reactions I can get, yours is possibly the best of them.”

“Thank you,” you say, sounding a bit more like a question. “You know, I’m glad that you invited me up here. I haven't been getting the best sleep as of late.”

“You can always come to me,” he’s quick to say, eager so evident in his voice that he’s drowning in it. He wants to be near you, he wants to be with you.

“I don't want to bother you,” you confess with a faint voice.

“You could never bother me.” It’s the truth. He’d crawl to you if it meant even a fraction of your attention would be given to him. He’d do what he could just to hear your voice. You’d never be a bother to him. You’d be his saving grace. It’s silent for a moment, one where he can hear the house come alive under him and feel your breath with even more vigor than before, feeling each and every pause, every gust of air a kiss against his skin that makes him yearn for more. He calls your name, and it’s thick on his tongue- foreign and light, and yet it sounds like he’s said it countless times before, as if he knew the name by heart. You hum in response and he takes a deep breath.

His finger twirls around a small piece of your hair, letting the hair curl around his finger before he releases it, only to do the same thing once more. “I’m always surprised that you let me get so close,” he says in a quiet voice, careful to not ruin the moment but a part of him knows that it might have been ruined already when it alludes to him. He can feel your eyes on him, watching him carefully as your lips part. “I know that I’m not exactly a knight in shining armor or anything and uh-” he lets the strad of your hair go, watching it bounce in freedom- “I just want you to know that I appreciate that you even let me touch you. I really like you, you know? I think you’re a much better person than I’ll ever be.” His lips stretch into a bittersweet smile that soon falls into a frown, twisting his features into something more somber. You say his name and it makes his breath hitch, a hiccup in his throat as his name fills the momentary silence. “I mean it. I think that’s why I- why you mean so much to me. I could never be like you. I can only admire you from afar and want you for myself.” He lets out a breathless puff of air that has humor etched into it. “I just wanted you to know that you mean a lot more to me than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”

With every continuation of his words, you felt your body respond to him. Your stomach twists with butterflies causing a storm inside of you, your chest tight and the sweet relief of air has escaped your lungs, and you’re hot, heat flush against your face and creeping from your chest and upward. You wonder if he could hear every change in your breathing, in your heart that beats, in just you.

He looks at you through half closed eyes and for once, you don’t think that it’s sleep that’s causing his soft smile and tender eyes. You stiffen, your muscles going rigid under his stare. The pillow is cool under your face as you stay hidden from him, gripping at the edges and turning away from his gaze, unable to keep as tight face as a smile creeps across your face.

He laughs as you lower your head, hiding your face from his after the tender words that were shared. “Come on, was it that easy to make you flustered?” He teases, the bed dipping as he moves. His hand tugs on the pillow that is held tightly in your grasp. “Oh come on, just look up,” he whines, weakly tugging at the pillow. “Seriously, you’re so dramatic and for no reason. It shouldn’t be news to you that I like you.” His smile is clear in his voice, light and full of kittenish behavior. “If you don’t pay attention to me, I’m going to continue, you know.” His grin widens when you finally peek at him, and he can’t help but laugh.

Diavolo:

There is chatter in the room, accompanied by the heels of shoes that click against the tiled floor. The room is lit in an orange glow that makes the atmosphere of the room seem almost dream-like. You tug wine glass, pulling it closer to you, careful to not let a drop spill over and stain the pristine white tablecloth. You glance around the room, watching people chat amongst themselves, their own eyes glued to their partners.

You look at the prince before you who takes a sip from his glass, his tongue peeking to wipe at the taste on his lips. “Diavolo?” The glass is set down and he looks at you with slightly widened eyes. “When I said I wanted to go out for dinner, I was fine with just some Akudonalds or ya know-” you glance once more around the room, your gaze focused on the silverware set carefully in front of you- “anything.

“This is anything,” he says, his smile cool and hands resting above the table. “We hardly go out and when we do, the others tend to accompany us. While I enjoy their company, I’d also like to just enjoy yours. So I thought, since this is a rare occasion, we’d make the best of it.” He leans close to you, and you know that there is no malice or hidden intention with him. He is honest, able to tell you what he wants without finding it necessary to hide himself. “If you are uncomfortable with such a restaurant, we can always go somewhere else, next time.”

“It’s not that, it’s just-” you clear your throat, leaning against the table, lowering your voice- “I’ve never been to such a high-end place. I don’t want you to overspend because of me. I’m fine just going somewhere low-key.”

He laughs, shaking his head and his fingers drum against the table. I’m a prince. There’s no such thing as overspending and even if there were, I don’t mind it if it’s you that I’m doting on.” You nod slowly, your fingers running at the edge of the fork handle. “Really, there is no need to worry. I’m just happy that you agreed to join me on this outing.”

You do your best to not shake your legs, mindful of the wine beside you. “‘M glad I was able to join you as well. I- I like spending time with you.” You smile sweetly at him, a hint of nerves tracing against your smile. “I just have to admit that I was taken aback when you invited me out. I know you mentioned how it’s always us with the others, but I don’t know-” you fingers find themselves tracing around the base of the glass- “I guess I always figured you liked me because I was able to get you out of work since you know, I am part of your work. I never would have assumed that you actually wanted to spend time with me.”

For a moment, it’s silent, a brief moment that couldn't even be considered silent, just a short pause but it's enough for him. “May I admit something to you?” Diavolo asks, his hands fiddling with the napkin beside himself. You nod, leaning forward, urging him to continue. “I was always fascinated with humans. I loved humans- they were these beings who had free will and they all lived different lives but in the end they shared the same fate.” He chuckles softly and his hand goes to the stem of the wine glass. “It’s the same for demons, of course. Any life can be taken and for the most part, they have free will, but I think I love humans. Or at least I thought I did.” He looks up at you, his smile faltering for a moment as he struggles to keep it up. “But I think rather than love, I hold admiration for their humanity. For their tenacity, and kindness; their love and warmth that they have with each other. And when I look at you-” his hand leaves the glass and is left open towards you- “I’m reminded of how beautiful humans can be.” His smile turns bitter for a moment, falling and he makes no attempt to keep up the facade. “I’m reminded just how fragile they are. I need you to know that I admire humanity, but I think I love you. I love how you do your best to help those around you, how you adapt to your environment, and just how easily you can make others fall for you.” He lets out a short laugh through his nose. “If I have to be honest, I think I’m also jealous of you. I wish I were the only one who could have the opportunity to fall for you.” His hand is still held out towards you, vacant without yours.

Throughout his monologue your body has been on fire, pooling in your stomach and against your back. You stare at his empty hand, trying to will yourself to hold it but the most that you can do is lay your head on the table, silverware clicking together and a dull thud heard. You want to let out a whine but you’re sure you’ve already called attention to yourself and- oh dear. What will people think of when they see Lord Diavolo with a human who has planted their face against a table. Your thoughts race, clouding your mind as the silence in the room is deafening, echoing in your ears as you rest with your face down.

“Is this a human custom?” Diavolo asks, his voice full of genuine wonderment. “Should I also be doing it?”

“Dia,” you mumble, your body slowly squeezing against itself in order to make yourself smaller. “You can’t confess so nonchalant,” you say in a hushed whisper, wanting to let out any type of noise that is slowly building up inside of you. “It’s- It’s too much for me,” you whine, slowly raising your head to peer at him.

“Well, I am a prince- a demon one at that. I suppose you can say that there are different customs for us as well.” His smile is jovial, and he reaches across the table, his hand open and this time you take it. Unable to look him in the eye, you resort to watching as his hand slowly threads to intertwine himself with you. “I must say, if that’s the response I were to get, I might as well continue it. I rather liked whatever it was that you did.” He’s so honest, looking at you with a wide grin that shows his pointed teeth and you can’t help but bury your face once more, grinning when you hear him let out a small laugh, his hand closing around yours.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ᴀ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ’ꜱ ɪɴꜱᴛɪɴᴄᴛ | ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ ; ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ!ᴢʜᴏɴɢʟɪ x ᴅᴇᴍɪ ɢᴏᴅ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ⚠️NSFW [19+]⚠️

Heyoooo!!! It’s been a second hasn’t it? Lololol my bad uwu;; I’ve been doing a lot drawing lately, so I’ve been focusing a lot on that instead of writing— mainly since it requires less brain power for me SKKSSKSK anywho, in celebration of crowning Zhongli in game, I’ve decided to sin—- after talking with Admin T for a bit LOLOL thus, another Femdom fic is born SKSKSK 

As always, thank you all so much for the love and support~! We really appreciate it~!

Art is from my Art Blog: @ko-ffeine​

TW: BDSM ; Chains ; Flogging ; Overstimulation ; Blindfolds ; Shackles ; Collars / Leashes ; Muzzles ; Bondage / Restraints ; Riding ; Face Sitting ; Marking ; Vibratiors ; Breath Play

》》Admin Ko

»»————-　♔　————-««

Decades. It had been decades since her arrival to Teyvat. Thinking back to it, (y/n) hadn’t even realized the bonds she’s made after awakening in the depths of Dragonspine. Though it was best for her to not dwell on the past. After all, she learned early on with her revival that sticking to the past only brought unwanted trouble. 

The sound of chains clattering against marble awoke her out of her thoughts as she peered back to the bundle of chains on all fours. A long scaly tail whipping back and forth impatiently as heated glowing amber orbs bore deeply into her own (e/c) ones. 

“Morax…”

A soft sigh escaped her as she made her way over to the former archon. The loose hanfu that danced along her smooth skin had the dragon keen in want. The metal cage strapped to his mouth prevented his fangs from sinking into her supple flesh. The desire to mark and claim what was rightfully his was strung up high in his head as he strained against the enchanted chains that bound his wrists together. The hefty weight of the gold collar around his throat only further added  to his inability to surge forward as the chain attached to the device around his throat only allowed him so much distance. 

“You were being so good earlier. What’s gotten you riled up?”

Though soothing in tone, (y/n)’s expression was anything but as she marveled at the way the Geo Archon was presented before her. The night before his heat had gotten a hold of him, he had given her permission to be just as rough with him to ensure her safety—- and well, she wasted no time in taking advantage of the opportunity presented to her. 

In a flurry of motions she had skillfully wrapped the archon’s body in beautiful golden ropes. Each one accentuating the toned muscle from eons of war and battles. The delicious flush of red that painted his skin as she continued to further restrain the male only set her belly a flame. 

After all, the initial restraints were only mild. It wasn’t until the late evening did she realize how intensive she had to truly restrain her lover. Enchanted chains shackled him down. A leather muzzle had initially been placed to keep him from biting her, but was quickly forgone as he had ruined that within the span 15 minutes. Thus resulting in the current metal cage that adorned his haughty features. 

The collar and leash combo? That had only occurred when she had attempted to leave for the bathroom— only to be slammed into the floor with a lustful dragon dry humping against her as he snarled and growled at the fact he wasn’t able to sink his teeth into her flesh. 

The end resulted in the intensive flogging that only further fueled both party’s lust. 

“Little one~….”

A pang of warmth hit her as she broke out of her memories from last night to meet his impatient amber orbs.

“I should’ve attached the one with the bar in between just so you wouldn’t distract me.”  

Shaking her head, she made her way over to the male, and once she was within reach his tail immediately latched onto her leg. Easily trailing up to press against her cunt as he fervently surged forward to press himself against her. Yet of course, due to the damn muzzle in his way he could only be tantalizingly a breath away from his goal. 

The pressure his cock held did little to alleviate the pain as the desire to breed into her deeply sprang forth.

A hefty growl came from him as he pushed her even more until she tumbled onto her back. The morning sun only added to the ethereal effect as he pressed himself as close to her as he could. 

“Let me fuck you, Little one…wanna breed you until you’re full of my seed…bearing my children…”

A blush dusted across her features as he continued on before he was suddenly yanked back. A choked gasp came from him as he struggled against the Dendro vines that appeared as the vineyard appendages held him still. Each intimately wrapping around him to keep him seated in a frog tie. The leash having been jerked enough to keep him still as he let out a garbled growl.

“So feisty…this is getting interesting little one…”

“I think it’s time for you to stop talking Morax. I’d rather hear the sounds you truly want to make.”  

“Oh ho? How do you plan on doing that?” 

Taunting and ever so prideful, the mighty dragon refused to back down as he strained to get as close to her as he could. Her nearing form did little to deter the desire to fuck her thoroughly. Though before he could even do much the vines came forth to hold his head still. Smaller ones easily kept his lips open as he struggled to chomp and tear the greenery away. Yet with this, he failed to notice her swiftly remove the muzzle before replacing it with a strong and sturdy ring gag. His mouth now forcibly open as drool began escaping down his chin. 

“Haaah?”

“Not so tough now huh? Like the chains, my lovely Archon, this was also enchanted~. I had the chance to put some of my former power into this device. So I’m confident that it won’t break~.”

Grinning, she watched as the funeral consultant tested the new device before grunting as a flare of his nostrils showed his displeasure in the newly placed device.

“Now that that has been settled, I do believe you should be put to use.” 

A guttural sound of confusion came from Zhongli before darkness overcame him. Leafs? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that his sense of touch was beginning to heighten and his sense of smell was driving him over the wall as he could practically taste how wet her cunt was. 

Almost as if a learned reaction, the dragon’s tongue fervently searched for her as he reached out. His once ‘normal’ tongue now long and thick as his fangs extended ever so slightly over the metal ring of the gag. Freedom from the device was so close, yet as this occurred…

“Guh?! Haah..nnn ”

The metal shifted to accommodate the change Zhongli brought on; and as if to spite him, the device seemed to meld to form a stricter grasp around his face as a metal band formed over his nose bridge, further enforcing the fact that the device was not coming off.

“Ahhh, is, ish nah wha ah wha—ed” 

“Oh? You’ll have to use your words more clearly, love~”

Her tone only further fanned the flames of lust in his belly as he continued to obscenely drool all over the marble floors. Though his attempts at reprimanding her were stilled as he let out a muffled grunt before an animal like moan and growl tore through his throat as he finally got a taste of her juices. 

Oh how he wished to sink his claws into her supple flesh. Mark the terrain with his love bites and scent. Yet with all the restraints scattered about his body, all he could do was eagerly lap at her pussy with his tongue to the best of his abilities. 

And by the sounds she was making, he was doing quite the job. Easily, with his long tongue he teased and taunted her slick walls. All of her weak points, the secret little motions that he knew brought her immense pleasure. 

Though (y/n) couldn’t see it, she knew that her lover’s eyes had rolled up into his head. Especially when she could feel his tongue stutter as she not only buried his face into her wet cunt, but as the heel of her foot began to grind on his weeping cock. 

Muffled moans and grunts came from the man eating her pussy as he strained against the various layers of restraints she bestowed upon him. Just the very sight of him dressed in her materials had her groaning before cumming against the male’s face. 

As she stepped back, she couldn’t help but admire the state she left her lover in. Panting, drooling with a dash of her cum splattered in and an angry red cock. 

A sadistic cord snapped within her as she cupped his cheek. 

“Mmmm…you’re my good boy, aren’t you Morax?”

“..h-haaah?”

“If you can handle my game well, you can fuck me and fill me with your seed~.”

The mere mention of being able to sheath himself into her had the dragon’s tail whipping back and forth quickly as he leaned into her touch even more.

“Let’s see how well you can hold your breath. If you do well, then you win~.” 

Immediately a twitch of his cock was enough to spur her forth as she searched for the last couple of items she needed. With a grin, she easily worked a plug into the ring. Easily, the object filled the dragon’s mouth as his loud pants became muffled grunts and moans. 

Though before she decided to attach the smooth leather muzzle over his mouth and nose, she went to work with laying him on his side. The action causing a confused muffled grunt to come from the dragon before a gasp and moan came from him as he squirmed and struggled at the sudden intrusion of the vibrator up into his ass. 

“I didn’t say that it would be easy, Morax.”

A teasing lit came from her as she watched how the dragon’s hole greedily ate up the vibrator before she turned the toy on low. The reaction was immediate as  the dragon flinched from the sudden motions as mewls and lewd moans continued to leak out from his lips. 

“Ah~ You’re so cute…so weak and pliable just for me~.” 

Cooing, (y/n) gently ran her fingers along the beautiful horns adorning her lover’s head. Now that they were in full bloom and not stumps like yesterday, she had the ability to properly gaze at them. Though as she got to the base of his horns a muffled cry came from the dragon as spurts of cum splattered against her and his abdomen. 

“Ho? I didn’t realize your horns were an erogenous stimulant Morax.”

More muffled whines and growls came from the trembling dragon as he impatiently flicked his tail against the marble. In response, the Demi god pressed a kiss to his forehead before humming.

“Let’s begin our game then~.”

With a grunt and some of her former strength, she sat Zhongli up before she grabbed the leather muzzle. The smooth homeless mask glistened back at her before she placed the item over the dragon’s plugged mouth and nose. The straps behind now buckled securely as silence— save for the vibrations— filled the room. 

Smirking, she tested the waters by lightly rubbing her fingers along the tip of his cock. The motion resulting in a highly muffled moan as the dragon trembled. The flourish of his scales along his arms only further served to show how much control he had lost. 

“My, my…so sensitive. Then…let’s do this~.”

Immediately, she positioned herself over his weeping cock and in an instant sheathed his cock. The motion causing the bound dragon to writhe and buck his hips immediately up into her as his cheeks reddened with the lack of oxygen going to his brain. 

If only she could see his expression. His eyes rolled so far up his head as nothing but pleasure and pain hit him as he felt the burn of his lungs for oxygen and his voice sound so meek amidst it all. Of course that high went away as she tugged lightly at the tip of the mask. Fresh air immediately streamed in as he coughed and sputtered with pleads and moans for more as his cock twitched inside of her. 

“S-Shit…easy there baby…”

The pet name only further fueled his whines as he leaned forward into her as he pressed his face the best he could into her neck as she struggled to keep the mask away from his nose to ensure he got enough oxygen to his brain. 

“Let’s see if I make you cum first or if you make me, how about it Morax~?”

Before he could even try to answer the mask was pressed tightly over his nose again and the slow tell tale sign of their game began as he could feel her hips work their magic. Her heavy panting and groans only seemed to egg him on as he began to partake in the game. His hips meeting hers evenly as the foggy feel from the lack of oxygen began to pull at his lungs again. 

The feeling of helplessness and being an all powerful god tamed by a Demi god had his mind reeling from the pleasure of humiliation as he came hard into her. As he did so, he could feel her walls tighten around him only further over stimulating the male after his high as he struggled to keep up. 

Soon he was met with the lovely breath of air once again as the mask slipped away and he could finally smell her intoxicating scent. Sweat mixed with his musk never failed to fan at his belly as he fervently dug his face into her neck. Quickly chasing after the high, yet a gasp and muffled broken moan came from the male as he felt her move her hips once again. 

“Oh, you thought I was done baby? Not yet~. Didn’t you mention that your heats lasted a week?”

As she mentioned this he couldn’t help but feel his cock swell inside of her again, yet he couldn’t help the keen that came out of his throat at the overstimulation he was about to receive. 

“I’ll take good care of you, love. Even if it means me drilling into your dragon mind that I’m the one who is in control~.” 

Again, the slapping of skin filled the room as muffled whines came from the dragon. His claws straining against the binds as he wanted nothing more than to sink his claws into her hips to cum into her again. 

Yet no, he was at his lover’s mercy; and honestly he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It wasn’t until she turned the vibrator on high that he came again. A large load coming from him again as he filled her full. His seed seeping deep into her as he  rubbed his cheek against her neck even more refusing to allow her to leave as he wished to keep her plugged up. Just as she did to him.

“I suppose I’ll stay like this….but only for a moment. Then we try to feed you…alright?”

Softly murmuring against his hair she couldn’t help lovingly caress his hair as she basked in the moment of calm that a momentarily tired out dragon could bring. After all, she still had to deal with this for the next 6 days. 

[travellingarmy]

║Venti║ Stars (R)

Requested from Wattpad.

Female reader as requested.

Warning: •Those who does not know what R-rated means, it simply means that it is restricted to children under 17 (according to google).

•This will most likely be crap because I still don't know how to write NSFW oneshots.

Word count: 2.1k

---

"Just - hic - one more, Master Diluc!" Filled with the nightlife atmosphere in Angel's Share, Venti decided to join as well for the sake of sharing the same joy every Mondstadtian holds.

"You do know that these aren't free.." Diluc grumbles, a look of irritation visible on his face. "And don't you think you've had enough? You've had 33 glasses now."

"Ah, I can never get enough of Master Diluc's amazing brew!" the small bard exclaims. Diluc's face remained unchanged by the complement and went to make another glass for him. "You better pay for these."

"Haha, oh, Master Diluc, aren't you the jokester." Venti giggles. "I'm not joking," Diluc plainly said. "Haha, oh well.. Anyway.." Sounds of chatter drown out the taller male's warning that night by a loud bard who was starting to become tipsier with each drink.

After a couple more drinks- actually, it totalled to 50- Venti was now showing signs of passing out with his head on the counter, aside from occasional giggles and hiccups. Diluc grumbles in complete disbelief. Now that the bard was drunk, there was no way he would listen to his words.

An irritated sigh left the tavern owner's lips, seeing as he could do nothing about it. "I'll make sure you pay for it tomorrow so just go home," Diluc said to the bard who luckily listened, walking drunkenly out the tavern. "Thanks, Master Diluc!"

The cold air of the night brushed past the skin of the male, giggling as it tickles him. Oh how much he loves the wind so much.

Tonight, Venti did not go home- if he even has one- and instead, walk straight out of the city's gate; heading towards Starsnatch Cliff where he knew someone was sitting there all in her lonesomeness.

"(Y/N)!" the bard cheery voice made its way to your ears, making you turn to look at him. He waves and drunkenly giggles. "Venti, what are you doing here?"

"Hehe, I thought that my goddess wouldn't be asleep at this time and was here~" he answers, sitting down beside you. One sniff of him and your face wrinkled as if you were smelling a garbage site. "Ew, you went to the tavern again!?"

"Ehe." He shrugs, eyes closing into crescents as he smiled. You shook your head and brought your knees close to your chest, hugging it. You did not want to further push about the boring topic as it was quite often he would try to get wine from Diluc so silence was the only thing you could do.

You look at the stars in awe, a small smile tugging the corner of your lips. "It's quite nice today-- even the weather," you stated randomly. Venti leans back, using his arms as support. He took a glance at your soft figure before averting it to the sky you were seeing. "Even if it was cold, I would control the wind to make it warm for you," he points out, a smile of his own visible on his face.

In the midst of another silence, Venti's drunken state had his eyes started to wander on you, eyes tracing your face down to every detail. Your eyes that were half-lidded, your nose that was ever so his favourite feature, your lips-- oh let us not get into detail as to how much he loves those lips. Soon, his eyes wandered down to your neck and the strands of hair resting on it to tease him.

It might just be him being drunk and deluded or the atmosphere, but something in him wanted to do more than just looking at you.

With that being said, his hands slowly encircled your waist and drew you closer to him so that he could rest his chin on your shoulders. To you, it was just him wanting to hold you; nothing too suspicious and you continued to dismiss him.

However, that innocent thought was no longer when you felt his hands rub your sides in a slow and lustful manner. "V, Venti..!" you stutter, eyes widening as you look at him from the corner of your eyes.

He hums, eyes closed. "What is it, (Y/N)?" his voice still holding the same cheeky persona as his smile just grew wider. "U, um..!!" Your words died out on your tongue, the sudden rise of heat too overwhelming for you.

His lips made their way to your earlobe. "What's wrong, (Y/N)? Are you unwell?" he asks, a smirk replacing his playful smile. You bit your bottom lip and closed your eyes, unsure of what to do as you felt something in your stomach. It was like a fluttering feeling when you see your crush, but quite different.

"Do you.. Want me to help you, (Y/N)?" he breathlessly asks and went to nibble the sensitive part of your ears. A whimper that escaped your throat failed you which just urge the male further. His lips then slowly made their way to your neck and he was suddenly washed with the intoxication of your smell.

Not waiting for a reaction, he starts off by licking your neck and soon, sucking it hard enough to leave a mark. Once again, another whimper left you. You felt embarrassed by the sounds you had made, but the growing heat in the atmosphere was too much for you to fight.

One of his hands made its way down your body, rubbing your thighs as the other massages one of your breasts. Your chests start to expand wider with each breath you take.

Venti's hands soon returned to your chest and began to unbutton your shirt ever so skillfully. Once it was fully undone to the last button, he moves in front of you, pushing you down the grass and hovering on top of you.

His eyes were filled with lust and craved for you and your body. Hungrily, he smashes his lips onto yours and had a full heated session. He licked the bottom of your lips and you obliged, opening your mouth to allow his tongue to adventure inside, winning dominance.

He went back and suck the other side of your neck, also leaving a mark there as his hands unclip your bra, kneading your breast between his fingers.

At that point, heat, too, filled your body and made your mind hazy, letting out a moan. Soon, his lips trailed downwards and took the other breast in his mouth. He continued to do so and switched to give the same attention to the other.

His hand went lower, pulling your skirt down to your thighs. Teasingly, he rubs his fingers on your clothed cunt and you moaned yet again. "Hehe, you are so naughty, (Y/N)~ Already this wet for me?" he says, continuing to run through the article.

Soon, he had enough of the teasing and pulled down your last piece of clothing, leaving you fully exposed to the cool air of the night while he was still fully clothed.

"Tell me, (Y/N), what do you want me to do~?" he asks, pressing his cold fingers on your cunt, making you whimper. When you didn't say anything, he leaned closer to your ears and whispered, "If you don't tell me.." He moves his fingers teasingly. "I could just leave it here~"

"N, no..!" You shot your eyes wide open, revealing your desperation and lust. "Hm~? Then tell me, what is it that you want me to do?" He smiles and his eyes were overshadowed with a dark playfulness.

"P, please.. I, I want your fingers.. In me.." you say, a bit embarrassed at the dirty words that left your tongue. Venti chuckles, but answered to your wish, plunging one finger inside which made you moan. Urged on by the sound, he entered a second one. "Look at you~ So greedy for my touch."

You weren't listening to his words as he starts pumping his fingers, slow at first to make you just whimper. "What do you want me to do now, (Y/N)?" he asks once again. "Is this too slow for you?"

"Please.. G, go faster..!" Again, listened to your wish and started to pump faster, adding two more fingers in the mix. He returns to attack your breast and bit your nipples and his free hand went to massage the other.

The stimulation was too much for you, being touched everywhere soon made a knot inside of you that was waiting to be snapped at any moment. "V, Venti..!" That was all he needed to hear for him to stop, moving away from you.

You look at him, confused and upset, but that was soon answered as he stood up and pulled both his pants and undergarments down. "(Y/N), why don't you be a good girl and repent?" he beckons you to go on your knees.

You listened, getting on your knees and bringing your face closer to his cock that was dripping with precum. "Well? Don't tell me you don't wish to repent." You gulped and slowly bring your lips to the tip of his dick, licking the precum off of it.

You felt him shudder from above which urged you on. You opened your mouth and brought half of it inside your mouth, earning a groan from the male.

You then started to suck on his cock and another moan erupted from his vocal cords, putting a gentle hand on your head. You only sucked halfway of it and pumped the rest, not wanting to choke.

When it has gotten to a point that was much to his pleasure, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your head; pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. You moaned on his cock, feeling it touch the back of your mouth and made you gag.

"Don't stop now, (Y/N). After all, you want to be forgiven right?" He tugs on your hair and you continued. Venti became a moaning mess, guiding your head as he does so. And soon, you felt his cock twitch inside you. You suck him faster, wanting to help him in his release.

Followed by a long moan, he fills your mouth with his juice, keeping your head locked on his dick so that you don't waste a single drop.

Once you gulped all of them down, he pulls away. "Aren't you a good girl~?" he coos. "You deserve a reward so why don't you get on your hands and knees for me, hm?"

You listened, wanting to get your own release as well. He got behind you and you felt excitement wash through you and the knot that was still there.

He put his hands on your breasts, giving it a little squeeze. "Are you sure about this, (Y/N)?" he whispers in your ear. "You can always tell me to stop, okay?" You nod.

With that, he moved his wet cock inside you. You whimpered at the overwhelming foreign heat that entered you. Venti was patient with you and waited for you to adjust to the feeling.

"P, please move.." you say breathlessly after a while. Venti listened and started to enter and leave your hole, building up his stimulation once more.

Moans, pants, and lust filled that night and at each thrust, he went faster and faster as you grip onto the grass, feeling your legs numbing. "Harder, Venti..!" you cried out, the knot close to breaking.

His grip on your waist was for sure going to leave marks on your skin, but that didn't matter to your right now.

He pulls out completely but quickly slams it back inside you. Your head jerks up and moaned loudly. The sight of the was stars blurring as you were being pounded into and drool went down the corner of your mouth.

Venti's thrust became sloppier and sloppier by the second. He buried his face on your shoulders and bit it hard enough that it drew blood, but you were too focused on the pleasure that you hadn't noticed.

"V, Venti, I--" At that moment, the knot snapped and you came on his dick. Venti thrusts a couple more times before he, too, came inside you, groaning as his second wave was finally released.

He fell on top of you, both your legs too weak to carry the weight of your bodies. He didn't take himself out just yet and listen to the two of you pant.

"Let's go home, hm?" he suggests between heavy breathing. You nod and watch as he pulls out, letting out a whimper at the sudden emptiness inside you.

He dresses himself up first and later helped you since you were unable to do it and carried you home. "I love you, (Y/N)." He kisses the side of your head, watching you slowly fall asleep.

---

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 "𝚘𝚑"

PART 8: CAT BOYS 

... it’s late into the night and y/n is streaming with one of her new friends, sykkuno. running on caffeine and redbull is apparently not enough because she falls asleep on his shoulder 45 minutes into their cyberpunk gameplay. at that exact moment, twitter goes up in flames.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (because i was threatened by thirsty anons) ─── soc. media + written fiction!  ─── word count: 1.8k author’s note: here it is...what yall been asking for. literally had to add a new part for this but i loved this idea sm i couldnt just nOT NOT do it. i tried writing this with the same energy as the smau lmao so expect chaos as always. hope you enjoy it and as always lmk what u think! hopefully yall wont go too feral, but tbh thats prolly too much to ask for xx EDIT: srr for the fucky format tumbler dot com is being lame 

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.   ҉   next.

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Such a back and forth continues for the better part of the day as you get ready. Corpse only whines a bit when you forget to text him back - you are packing, and your prestigious cat ears you bought from Amazon for 10$ deserve exquisite care - which only fuels your seemingly bottomless hunger for mischief, leading to you sneakily ignoring him more. When your phone lights up with a message, you giggle, giddy with excitement. Your laughter only gets louder and more erratic, to the point where Rae had busted down your door and threw her Hello Kitty plush at you - one you’d gotten her, mind you! - and told you to just “Shut the fuck up!”

Ungrateful. You know not everyone can appreciate your sense of humor, or stand your hyena like cackle, but that was uncalled for and you told her as much. Noting the mess your room is in (more than usual, that’s for certain), she leans onto the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest, pretty brown eyes twinkling curiously, “Where you off to?”

“So I had this idea-” You start, but are promptly shut down with a raise of her palm.

“Already know it’s a bad one.”

Insulted, and hurt, you clutch your heart. As if she had not mocked you enough today, “Rae...The hell, that’s so mean...” You mutter, face scrunching into a soft frown, “I only wanted to tell you what me and Syk thought of.”

“Oh?” Intrigued, she raises a brow, “Continue.”

“Gee, thanks for letting me this time.” You mumble, rolling your eyes, “So. We thought we’d stream together. The catch? In the same room! We’ll be playing Cyberpunk. Gotta cash in while the hype is still up.” You add, making her snort, “And, ya know, the whole cat boy business...We’ll be wearing matching cat ears. Admit it, I’m a genius.”

She’s quiet for a moment, mulling over your words; you can practically see the gears in her head turning. She glances around the room, then briefly at you, strangely apprehensive. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Well, that is definitely not what you expected her to say. You figured it’d be more along the lines of you’d be one ugly cat. “Huh?” Is all you manage to stutter, “What do you mean?”

She gives you a look, one all people give when something is so plainly obvious, “Y/n. You do know the stans will go wild, right? And you do remember our conversation involving Corp-”

“Nope!” You exclaim cheerily with a bright smile to match. You don’t want to think about that. The relationship between you and Corpse is strictly platonic, and besides, seeing Twitter loosing their shit is always funny, and you never miss an opportunity to mess with your fans. Sykkuno is also a good friend, albeit a new one. This supposed flirting from Corpse’s end Rae deduced was nothing more than her projecting her feelings onto the situation. She always liked shoujo anime and was probably thinking one was happening right in front of her. Not a chance. Corpse was just being a friendly crackhead. Your energies mesh beautifully.

Like, beautifully in a strictly friend way. Absolutely nothing more than that.

She gives up, naturally, arguing with a wall would be more productive than arguing with you. You’re such a (Zodiac sign).

“Well,” She mumbles, ticking her head to the side, leaning off of the door frame and turning to leave, “Don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

Your grin melts as soon as she leaves. Glancing at your bag, you shove your last necessities in with newfound hesitance. 

Nothing bad will happen, right?

...Right?

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It is well past the generally set “appropriate” time to hang out, but since quarantine, what is appropriate anymore anyway? You’ve never been in Sykkuno’s apartment, but now that you’re here it’s...strangely him. Every corner seems tailored to his specific requirements. It’s cozy, and pleasantly warm - it’s a bit chilly in LA, as surprising as that is.

He’s even shyer than you remember him being. And a whole lot more awkward, but in an endearing way, a way that makes you want to laugh and try to reassure him that it’s just you and he has nothing to worry about. While you hung out only once, the history you share is rich and tender. From him following you on Twitter and subsequently prematurely ending your stream, to kidnapping a stray cat affectionately named Juan. His long lost brother, Juan (no the Second, just Juan), lives in your Minecraft server. 

His stream room is sadly bare. There’s an appalling lack of merch or fairy lights. Not even led-lights. It’s a good thing you brought your own. As you try to decided which color would be best - his signature lime green, reminiscent of his adorable Among Us astronaut, or, perhaps, mischievous violet? - he boots the game and tweets out a quick “streaming with y/n in ten mins! come one come all!” 

“You should probably tell your fans, too.” He mumbles, looking somewhere above your shoulder. You settle with cherry blossom pink. Glancing at him, you shrug.

“Ah, do it for me, please?”

“Oh!” He hiccups, “Uhm, I wouldn’t want to pry and I don’t know your password and-”

“It doesn’t have a password.” You had removed it, knowing something like this would happen. Bless your foresight, you did not want him to know it was demonspiitinmymouth. Before he could protest further, you rush to the nearest mirror to put on your cat ears and make sure they aren’t crooked. You look absolutely adorable. The cat boys in your dms will go feral. Hell, you might just go feral looking at yourself! Sykkuno is not ready. No one is. This will be a stream to remember.

When you return (with flourish of course), he’s anxiously fidgeting by his computer, his own little cat ears, one’s he wore for the Halloween stream, peaking out from his silky brown hair. You have to suppress a squeal. When he catches you gaze he gives the kindest, sweetest little smile.

“They, uh--” He points at you, then decides it’s rude to point, bringing his hand back to his lap, then clutching his mouse, lastly releasing a sound stuck between a chuckle and a wheeze, “suit you, uhm, a lot!” He finishes with a resolute nod, quickly spinning in his chair and away from you.

This is the reaction you desired. All is going according to plan. Is this what God feels like? If not, then you pity her. She’s missing out.

Taking a seat next to him - he had been gracious enough to haul you a spare chair from the kitchen - you draw closer, and he, instinctively, shrinks away with another nervous chuckle. 

“You have, uhm... I-I didn’t look!” He quickly chimes. You raise a brow, “Uhm, unopened messages? From Corpse? He texted you when I was tweeting! I didn’t mean to look, I’m sorry-”

Instantly, you recall the famous vine with the scandalous “daddy chill” line, though refrain from saying it aloud. You love havoc, but you’re not evil (Rae would ardently disagree with you, though). Instead, you just shrug, “’S fine, don’t worry. I’ll text him back later. Let’s start?”

He nods, but doesn’t look at you. Granted, you don’t think he glanced at you even once since you returned, “...Okay. Ready?”

“Ready!”

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You’re much too immersed into the game and Sykkuno’s twitch chat to even check what’s happening on Twitter, but your estimated guess is that everyone’s going crazy. The stream chat is unruly as well, but missing the signature Twitter spark. Most of the chaos is bravely lead by your fans. Sykkuno’s, much like the man himself, are too nice to scream so unabashedly.

Perhaps you excitement had been a bit too taxing, perhaps drinking 5 coffees and 2 energy drinks today and not enough water are to blame for the sudden drowsiness you’re feeling, but you can’t focus on the swimming chat or the abundance of cut-scenes at the starting point of the game. You steadily draw nearer and he, more composed in front of his audience, doesn’t react. About ten more minutes of hoovering by his shoulder and muttering soft commentary, and you feel yourself slipping.

The last coherent thought you have is a few choice words directed at caffeine itself for having the opposite effect of you at the worst time possible.

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You float in oblivion for perhaps ten minutes at best. Once you awake with a startle, you shower Sykkuno in shy apologies and he quickly reassures you that it’s fine and that he didn’t mind at all!

“Though,” He adds after a thoughtful pause, “not sure if it was very, uh, comfortable?”

His stream chat spams uwu and variations of similar kind. The stream continues for a few more hours before the both of you wish everyone a good night. 

While you planned on wreaking absolute havoc, this sudden falling asleep was unexpected. You pondered the consequences of such an innocent, unplanned act whilst ubering home, fearing to check your phone which by now was blowing up with not only Twitter notifications but also Rae’s angry messages that vaguely read “what the fuck y/n”. Within the past two hours she had left 57 messages on all platforms collectively, including 7 calls. 

Corpse’s last text was over three hours ago.

Now that’s strange. Worry festers quickly. Briefly glancing at your surroundings - the pretty glimmer of passing street lights, neon signs, familiar buildings - you decide that it’s time to check what kind of nuclear explosion you’ve caused.

Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach as you scroll past the hundreds of tweets and mentions. Scan through Rae’s messages. 

You had failed to prepare ahead. Every explosion of such kind is followed by nuclear winter. And Corpse’s lack of messages feels especially cold.

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Not you smiling like a fucking idiot reading his last message! You shrink into the backseat, afraid the driver will accidentally look into the rear-view mirror and see you a bit too happy before asking questions. Good news? Yeah, but it’s not like it’s his any beeswax! In the words of Rihanna, just shut up and drive. 

This argument had not yet happened, but you’re preparing, just in case. 

As you think up of potential scenarios, your eyes drill into Corpse’s goodnight text. You’ve looked at it enough. Time to turn the phone screen off. Leave the app, at the very least. When the screen dims you instantly press on it to wake it up. This is embarrassing. Maybe the deadly amount of caffeine really did mess you up, big time. Your heart races in your chest, painfully almost. You feel a bit sick. Worst of all, you can’t stop smiling.

A notification from Rae makes you snap out of it. Ah, one more demon to deal with. 

However, before you talk to her, you really need to tell Twitter that you’re not with Sykkuno. And apologize to Sykkuno as well. 

At least Corpse doesn’t hate you.

Fucking hell, just exit the chat you idiot!

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[corpsedaydream]

Hi! I dont know if you write this, but can i request for angsty-fluff imagine for corpse? Maybe when you’re jealous? Thank u❤️ love ur writings

u ask for jealousy and angst, and i said hell fucking yeah

hope u enjoy! 

word count: 1.6k

_________________________

it’s fine

Corpse was ever so charismatic. It was something about him that was impossible to deny. Even when he would get misjudged by people, thinking he may be this intimidating presence purely because of how he dressed and sounded, it would only take a few exchanges of sentences between him and a stranger for them to instantly change their mind and feel drawn to him, instead. You knew this better than anyone, after all, it had been one of the factors in what had made you fall for him so hard and so fast.

The only issue was that, sometimes, he could have the same effect on others and, sometimes, when you caught someone else clearly having some heart eyes for your man, that brought forth the little green monster inside of you. He was magnetic, and as happy as you were that the world was so intrigued by him and he was having all the success he deserved, you couldn’t deny that there was a part of you that wished that magnetic pull only worked on you.

It seemed there were certain days when Corpse managed to turn on this charismatic side of him even more so. Today had happened to be one of those days. It was good, because it was a day the two of you had planned to spend together. But when you went out to lunch and the server definitely let her hand rest on his arm a little too long and said things a little too flirtatious and hardly acknowledged your presence, you started to lose that good feeling.

You didn’t say anything about it, even though you kind of wished he would have figured that him giving the girl a back and forth was encouraging her more and upsetting you further. But you were determined to have a good day with your boyfriend, you didn’t want to start any drama with him.

He asked you if you were okay on the way back to his place, noticing you were being quiet. You told him you were and left it at that, even if you did want to say more.

Finally, in the safety of his home that was like a bubble in which was just for the two of you, you were feeling better. Quality time was your love language and his was physical touch, something you could both give each other with ease when there was no outside interruption. Between the little talks, the exploration of hands over each other, the giggles that turned into wiping tears of laughter from your face and shared kisses, you swore you could spend the rest of your life like this and be happy.

And then the bubble burst.

“Ah, shit, (Y/N).” He began, and the mood between you instantly changed.

“What?”

“They need a tenth player right now and no one else can get online.” He had promised that today was about you. And usually, you would be completely okay with him going and joining in on the streams, often you loved sitting by him and watching him get so invested in the games. Except lately, you’d been feeling at an arms length from him and you hated it. You wanted his undivided attention today.

“And?” You were being short with him, you wanted him to know you weren’t okay with this right now.

“It’ll just be a few games...”

You let out a huff and turned your head to the side, looking away from him. You were being stubborn. You didn’t want to tell him what to do, you wanted him to figure it out on his own, that you didn’t want him to play and wanted him to stay right here in this moment with you.

“You can come sit with me?” He spoke again as you remained silent, seemed as if he wasn’t figuring it out.

“Just go play. It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine.

-

Sitting on your own now, you felt bare without your limbs being all tangled with his beneath the blanket like they were earlier. You had tried to turn on the television to watch something, but everything on just seemed to annoy you.

With a sigh, you pressed your hands to your knees and stood up, walking towards Corpses gaming room. At first, you were going to walk in, giving in to the want that was craving to be by his side, but upon hearing a number of female voices, that jealousy appeared inside you again and you walked away.

It was slightly irrational, you knew these people were his friends, but today had really gotten to you.

At an attempt to distract yourself, you opened up Tik Tok, but all your for you page seemed to be was more girls wanting your boyfriend.

“Fucking hell.” You said out loud, closing the app and opening up Twitter next. But you should’ve known it would’ve been worse on there, Corpse seemed to be trending every day on that app, you told yourself you really should have known better for that one.

However, the next social media app click was deliberate. You knew that Corpse had been reposting stories of people using his song and you decided on treating yourself to some more sweet torture. And sure enough, his story was filled with more girls. Firing that jealousy and insecurity you had been feeling today even more.

“Fuck this.” You announced, standing to your feet and feeling tears of frustration build in your eyes.

Once you had finished gathering your belongings, you were just about to make an exit when that crazy thing of timing pulled a fast one on you as Corpse emerged from his gaming room.

“What are you doing?” He questioned you, spotting your hand gripping the handle on his front door.

Seeing him should’ve made you feel better, but it only caused more tears to well up, so you quickly looked away from him.

“I’m going home.”

“What-no, why?” He came closer to you then and you turned more towards the door.

“Because you obviously don’t want me here.”

“What the fuck? (Y/N), of course I do. What are you even saying right now?” He was by your side now, grabbing your hand from the handle and holding it in his. His other went up to cup your cheek, tilting your head up to face him and that’s when he saw the glaze of tears in your eyes. “Hey, baby,” Worry sparked up in him. “You’re upset...” He stated the obvious and you shook your head out of his grip, directing your vision to the ground.

You thought he might create some distance between you both when you did that, but instead, he did the opposite. He pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapping snugly around your waist and his other hand resting on the back of your head to encourage you against him.

“Don’t, I’m going.” You spoke, but your words were meek, you didn’t actually want to leave and he knew that.

“No. You’re not.” He argued back, his arms pulling you in even closer. “I want you here.” He told you and that’s what made you snap.

“No you don’t!” Your voice got louder, matching the movements of you bracing your arms against him and pushing him back, breaking the human contact. He was in shock, watching you with cautious eyes. “If you did, you would’ve spent time with me and only me today. You wouldn’t have left me alone!” You became more emotional as you spoke, a few tears managing to spill onto your cheeks.

“Baby-”

“No!” You cut him off. “Don’t ‘baby’ me right now.” You took a moment to wipe under your eyes before continuing because you knew this next admission would cause you some more tears. “You know how hard it is to compete it with every other girl who’s all about you right now? They’re everywhere, and they’re all so fucking beautiful. I know you see them, I’m not them, Corpse.” Your voice broke into a sob as his name left your lips and he felt his heart break to see you in that state.

He wasn’t sure if you still needed space, but he couldn’t stand in front of you while you cried and not do anything. So instead, he once again brought his arms around you, but this time he scooped you up, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips so he could carry you.

You continued to cry against his neck as he walked the both of you to his room and when he placed you down onto his bed, he was instantly beside you, cradling you against him.

“I need you to listen me,” He began once you had started to calm down, he wanted to make sure you paid attention. “You are so important to me. So fucking important to me, (Y/N).” His eyes were boring into yours and he brought his hand up to wipe the wetness from your cheeks before continuing. “I don’t want you to be anyone else.” He was speaking with force, but it wasn’t aggressive, he was wanting to make sure that you really understood the depth to his words.

“It’s just, everyone seems to want you and I’m just-”

“Don’t you dare put yourself down.” Corpse cut you off before you could finish. For a moment, he pressed his lips to your forehead before moving his face back so he could look at you again. “I only want you. You’re it for me, baby.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“With my whole fucking heart.”

“I love you, I really love you.” You told him, your emotions were still running high, but you were feeling a whole lot better.

“I love you, too.”

[watercolorfreckles]

Thanks for the Ride - Part 2

Part 1 Here

TW: asthma attack, slight angst, mention of blood and sc*rs

((Civilian’s name is now Kaira. Villain doesn’t have one yet.))

Kaira pushed open her apartment door and stepped inside. A flurry of snowflakes gusted in after her, dusting the welcome mat in her entryway as she shoved the door shut. She shivered and slid her boots off, shrugging off her coat next and hanging it up. She leaned heavily against the door to catch her breath, digging her inhaler out of her pocket and taking two puffs.

It had been a month since the incident, and she was left without a vehicle right as the weather turned frigid and biting. Just her luck, as well, that cold air triggers asthma. Kaira coughed and wheezed her way to the kitchen, putting the kettle on to make herself some eucalyptus tea. Her doctor had recently told her that it might help alleviate some of her symptoms. Still struggling to breathe, she dropped herself into a chair at the kitchen table, squeezing her eyes shut. She tucked the inhaler back into her pocket without opening her eyes.

Kaira stayed there until the kettle squealed, forcing her lead-heavy limbs to get up and finish making her tea. She took a few sips though they scalded on the way down, and bent down to scoop some of her cat’s food into her bowl. She coughed and took another sip of tea, shaking the bowl a bit as she ventured further into the apartment. “Missy! Here, kitty.”

No response. That’s odd… Her stomach sank as she realized the tv was on in her bedroom. The muffled chatter and buzz were unmistakable. Had she forgotten to turn it off before going to work? 

She padded across the space, inching closer to the bedroom--though it was barely any use trying to be quiet. The ragged wheezing noises probably gave her away rather unceremoniously. Finally approaching the door and just about to cross the threshold, her cat hopped down in front of her, startling a yelp out of Kaira. The mug and food bowl in her hands crashed to the floor.

Kaira slapped a hand over her face, heart pounding all over again. “Missy. What did I do to deserve that?” she mused between strained breaths. 

She picked the remote up off of the dresser, lifting it to turn the screen off when she noticed what was playing on the news, and listened. More about the villain. The media coverage was constant, barely wavering since the villain’s “death” a month prior. The city clung to the hero’s victory, celebrating with parties and rallies and parades and barbeques. “Superhero finally managed to inject Supervillain with a revolutionary new toxic serum that drained his powers away and rendered him helpless. Superhero triumphed over the monster and fulfilled his duty in keeping our city safe! The crime rate perpetrated by powered individuals has decreased significantly as they all now live in fear of the hero’s new bioweapon. Let’s hope they stay underground where they belong.”

“The thing about Hero’s little serum,” a second voice cut through the silence, making Kaira jump and whirl around, “is that its effects are temporary. Poison a villain, take his powers, incapacitate him, kill him while he’s down. It’s quite the cowardly approach, don’t you agree, Kaira?”

Kaira froze in place like prey, staring at the villain sprawled out casually on her bed. He lifted a hand and lightning crackled over his palm like a second skin. Her mouth had gone unbearably dry and all she could do was stare and try to squash down the harsh rasps of her wheezing.

Villain flashed a smile, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he sat up, leisurely. “Your firstborn and I have gotten acquainted.” He wiggled his fingers and made kissy sounds, drawing the orange tabby closer to him.

Kaira inhaled sharply and took a step closer, freezing again at the look Villain cut her as he scooped Missy into his lap. “Do you truly think I would harm your cat?” He tsked. “You must truly think me a monster.”

She swallowed again but it did nothing to aid the dryness scratching her throat. “How-How do you know where I live?” she whispered.

Villain stroked Missy’s back, who purred and curled up on his lap. “You had some bills in your glove compartment--your insurance is overdue, by the way. You might want to pay that.” His lip curled in a teasing smile though his gaze rested intent and unwavering upon her.

Panicked, she fished her inhaler out of her pocket without taking her eyes off of him, inhaling a third puff. “I...I haven’t told anyone about you. I swear I haven’t. I-I didn’t even want to raise questions about where you left me, so...I didn’t call a cab until I, um, walked back to the main road. No-Nobody knows what happened, or that you’re alive, I promise.”

The villain hummed, straightening all the way. 

Kaira’s gaze flicked down to his torso where she could see a deep red seeping through his shirt. “You’re...bleeding.”

“And you’re the only one who knows I’m alive, so. Do be a dear and bring me a first aid kit?” His smile widened, all amusement for now.

Kaira blanched and stepped toward the door when Villain lifted a finger to halt her. “Ah-ah, better have you toss your phone over to me first. The best relationships are built on trust, you know?” he purred, blatantly relishing in the glow of pink that spread over Kaira’s freckled cheeks.

She pulled her cellphone out of her other pocket and tossed it onto the bed, waiting for his nod of approval before staggering wide-eyed into the kitchen to fetch her first aid kit.

Oh my gods, oh my gods, the villain is in my house, oh my gods…

Kaira’s hands shook as she returned, easing herself lightly onto the edge of the bed beside him. She gingerly lifted her cat off of him and set her back onto the floor. “You’re bleeding on my bed,” she murmured. She carefully reached for his shirt and flushed red. “Um...can I?”

The villain grinned, wolfish. “Wishing to undress me so soon? By all means.”

Kaira spluttered, floundering briefly before reaching forward again, unbuttoning the bottom half of his shirt. No need to expose more of his chest than necessary, especially after that comment. Wow, he has a lot of scars…

She traced a finger featherlight over one of the pale slices of skin. When she realized what she was doing, her gaze snapped up to meet his. His laser focus made her feel like a bug splayed on a corkboard. “S-Sorry....” She looked away and opened up the first aid kit and gently examined his bloody wounds. “It...looks like you need stitches...is that okay?”

“Ah, what’s a couple more scars. Just clean them and bandage me up.” Kaira could feel the sudden electricity sparking the air as the hair on her neck stood on end. He smiled prettily, though his eyes were sharper, edging on dangerous. “Please.”

Kaira nodded quickly. “O-Okay, yes. Sure. No need to get, um...zappy.” She smoothed down a few pieces of hair that had been suspended by the static thick in the air like smoke. The energy released suddenly once she agreed, expelling like a popped balloon.

She released a breath through her teeth and got to work with trembling hands. “If nobody knows you’re alive, then who hurt you?”

Kaira jumped as the villain brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Sorry, dear, I don’t kiss and tell.”

Her face burned all over again and she avoided his gaze, focusing on the task at hand. When she was done, the villain abruptly stood and crowded close, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Villain bracketed her in place with an arm against the bed on each side of her. “Thanks for the patch job.” He flashed another predatory smile, eyes twinkling, and dangled her car keys in front of her face. “Care to give me another ride, dear?”

Part 3

Thank you for reading!

Tiny taglist:  @writing-on-the-wahl , @ vlerlove , @valiantlytransparentwhispers. If anyone wants to be added, let me know :) 

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Try

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Fandom: Marvel/X-Men

Summary: Warren has been through hell and then some, but will meeting his soulmate turn that around?

Note: That’s right, it’s ya girl, back on my BS. I watched Apocalypse again and BIG SURPRISE, I’m in love with Warren and Kurt all over again. Still hyperfixating on Pietro also, so…expect more fics for him as well. Anyway, I’m a ho for soulmate aus and I haven’t written one for birb boi in literal years, so here ya go.

Reader is: Gender Neutral

Warnings: swears, mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2.8k

Warren knew one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt: he didn’t deserve a soulmate. He didn’t. There was no question in his mind. Anyone who was destined to end up with his winged, alcoholic ass had been fucked over by the universe. No one deserved to be stuck with him for the rest of their lives. And yet, these thoughts didn’t seem to erase the words written on his forearm:

Hey, um, you’re Warren, right? The Professor wanted me to talk to you.

Professor. He scoffed. He was never going to college. If his parents had gotten their way, their son “cured” of his wings, he would have ended up at Harvard or Yale or somewhere similar. But it was far too late for that. Sitting in a cage in the back room of an illegal underground mutant fighting club in Berlin…it was far too late for that. He’d probably die before he met his soulmate anyway, rendering the prophecy on his wrist—and theirs, for that matter—useless. A waste of space.

That was all he was anyway.

He spiraled. His dependence on vodka got worse. The fights got harder. He wasn’t making it out unscathed anymore, winding up with burns and scrapes and cuts, depending on what kind of mutant he was up against. One night, one of his cuts had gotten dangerously close to the writing on his wrist. He stared at it for a long time, tears burning his eyeballs until they escaped and dripped down his cheeks, angry and hot.

He hated it, but even after everything, he still had hope. He still had hope that things would get better; that he could be better, even if it seemed impossible.

And then it got…worse.

Apocalypse had come, turned his wings to metal, tuned into his anger, his rage at the world, turned him into a monster, complete with knives for feathers and winding tattoos framing his face. He wished he could blame it on mind control or something, but Apocalypse hadn’t brainwashed him, only used his anger against him. Turned him into a weapon.

And then everything went black.

When he woke up after the battle, he was in an unfamiliar room, large and white and sterile; it smelled like hand sanitizer. He heard the steady beeping of a heart monitor and when he sat up, he noticed how sore he was. His whole body hurt. His head spun. But he was alive. And when he looked down at his tattoo, the words were still there. Wherever his soulmate was, they were fine. His stupidity in joining Apocalypse hadn’t caused anything to happen to them.

For the first time in what felt like years, he breathed.

“You’re awake.” A voice said as a tall man with brown hair entered his room. “I’ll let the Professor know.”

“Where…” his deep voice rasped and the man pointed to a glass of water sitting on the table adjacent to the cot he was situated in. He picked it up and took a few long, greedy sips, not realizing just how thirsty he was until the cool drink hit his tongue. “Where am I? What is this place?”

“This is the infirmary at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.” The man told him, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “You’re safe here.”

Warren nodded hesitantly, but didn’t say anything else. Safe. The word was almost a myth to him at this point. But at least he felt like he could rest for a little while.

***

It had been a few weeks since Apocalypse and his horsemen had almost ended the world. Erik had decided to stick around, and two of the younger horsemen, Storm and “the Angel of Death,” respectively, had been absorbed into the school’s student body. You didn’t know the Angel’s name. No one really talked to him, not even Ororo, Storm, who had been quickly adopted by your friend group.

Supposedly, Peter had tried to talk to the Angel guy, but he didn’t say anything to him. Ororo theorized he probably felt guilty about the whole thing. She did. But you all knew she didn’t know what Apocalypse was really trying to do. He probably hadn’t either, but that didn’t seem to keep the grim expression off of his face.

It was on a nice, sunny day that Xavier called you into his office, and you went down without complaint, knocking on the door a few times before he called you inside. You sat in the chair across from his desk.

“Hi, Professor. What’s going on?” You asked.

“Ah, yes. Just the empath and healer I wanted to see.” He smiled brightly. “(Y/N), if you don’t mind it too terribly, I have a small job for you.”

“Of course! What do you need?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen our newest pupil, Warren, around.”

You thought for a moment. “The, uh, guy with the wings? The big metal ones?”

“Precisely.” He nodded. “Warren…he’s been having quite a hard time adjusting.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“He came to me yesterday discussing…well, quite simply, he was wondering if any of our mutants here would be capable of…reverting him to his previous state. His wings, before Apocalypse, were made of feathers. They’ve been serving as quite a reminder to him and it’s been weighing pretty heavily on him, both literally and emotionally.”

“Yeah, I’ve, uh, caught his vibes from across campus.” You nodded. “It’s like there’s always a rain cloud hanging over his head.”

“Yes,” Xavier agreed. “It doesn’t have to be right away, but at your nearest convenience, if you see him around, would you talk to him? Tell him I sent you?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see what I can do.” You promised him.

As an empath and a healer, your first priority was helping others. And even if he was known to be a bit intimidating, you wanted to help him if you could.

So, you walked out of Xavier’s office, attended your final class of the day, and when it was over, you wandered out into the courtyard where, because of the nice weather, students were everywhere. And luckily for you, just as you suspected he might be, Warren was sitting under a tree, still sporting his leather jacket despite the warm weather.

You shielded your eyes from the sun and walked over towards him, your heart racing as you built up the courage to talk to him. So, you took a breath and said, “Hey, um, you’re Warren, right? The Professor wanted me to talk to you.”

He stared up at you for a long moment, his green eyes wide in shock. He took a breath, blinked a few times, glanced down at his wrist, and then back up at you. You could have sworn you saw tears beginning to form along his waterline, and you didn’t realize why until he said, “You’re my…No…Oh my God…I’m…I’m so sorry.”

You froze, your knees going weak. You glanced down at your bare forearm and read over the words he’d just said, exactly the way he’d just said them.

You’re my…No…Oh my God…I’m…I’m so sorry.

“Why are you sorry?” You whispered, lowering yourself onto the grass beside him, not trusting your legs to support your weight for much longer. Now you were the one with tears in your eyes. “Don’t be sorry.”

“You deserve so much more than me.” He insisted, his eyes locked on his boots, unwilling and unable to meet your gaze. “I can’t drag you into…this. Me.”

His emotions were heavy, a bleak blue and gray haze and you felt it radiate off of him in waves. His pain, his everything. And you felt it, deep within his chest. He thought you wouldn’t want him anyway.

“Warren…” You shook your head. “Why…Why would you think I don’t want you?”

He was shocked into silence for a few seconds, thinking over his words carefully, his jaw tense and hands shaking. “You’re a telepath?”

“Empath.” You corrected quietly. “And…a healer. Which is why Xavier sent me.”

“Oh. Right.” He swallowed thickly, nodding. “Did he…tell you why?”

“He did.” You smiled softly. “And I’m willing to try if you are.”

Finally, his eyes met yours and he could tell that you meant more than just the healing when you said it. The weak little voice in the back of his head was screaming for him to push you away like he pushed away everyone else, but looking into your eyes, a genuine and warm smile on your face, he just…couldn’t lose you.

He couldn’t lose anyone else.

***

Today was the day. Warren was sitting on a stool in the infirmary. Hank had run his vitals and the two of them were in the room waiting for you to come down after your class was over.

“(Y/N) is the one who saved you, you know.” Hank told Warren while he jotted down some notes.

“What?” Warren asked, snapping out of whatever daydream he had been caught up in. “What do you mean?”

“(Y/N) found you in the rubble. We didn’t think you would make it, but…they healed you. They insisted we bring you back here. Give you a chance.”

Warren was quiet for a long time, thinking about what that meant. Part of him wondered if (Y/N) had known back then that he was their soulmate, but he decided that would have been impossible with just their tattoos alone. Especially without context. They hadn’t known and yet, they’d still wanted the best for him.

“Didn’t know that.” Warren said, his voice soft and deep. He stared at the words on his wrist for a little longer, a hint of warmth swirling around in his stomach. Was this happiness? Was that what happiness felt like? He barely remembered anymore. But he knew there must have been a reason that when you walked through the door, his heart started beating a little bit faster.

“Sorry I’m so late. Professor Leaf kept us a little later than she was supposed to. Are you ready?” You asked taking off your backpack and setting it against the wall. As soon as you looked up at Warren, you felt the way his heart rate was increased and you didn’t miss the warmth swirled with the anxiousness. The anxiousness, you had expected. Even you didn’t know if you could pull off what you were going to attempt to do, but the warmth…it was a pleasant surprise.

“Don’t worry about it.” He told you, shaking his head. Was he…was he smiling? It was a small smile, sure, but you didn’t think you had ever seen him smile before. It looked good on him. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Alright.” You nodded, walking over towards him. Underneath where he was situated on a stool, Hank had laid out some pads from the training room, you assumed, to catch his metal feathers if they fell out rather than transforming back to his normal…feather feathers. None of you really knew how this would unfold. “Again, I’m not sure this will work. I don’t want to get your hopes up in case it doesn’t.”

“I’m not expecting it to.” Warren assured you, but it wasn’t in a rude way. “If it does, I’ll be pleasantly surprised. Cross my heart.” What he didn’t say was: You could never disappoint me. Not even if you tried.

“Okay.” You nodded, taking a few steps closer until you were standing right in front of him. He looked up at you and for the first time, you didn’t feel any negative emotions from him. Only anticipation and that lingering warmth. “Here goes nothing.”

You focused on the warmth in your own chest, the tingling yellow healing power that constantly swirled around your heart, and you forced it into your palms. You reached forward for his hands and he took the hint, his larger hands wrapping around yours.

Immediately, he gasped at the sensation, warm tingles running up his arms, down his spine. It stopped in the center of his back, right where his wings intersected with his body. At first, he didn’t feel anything. And then, he felt everything. The pleasant warmth flooded his metal wings, and one by one, the knife-like feathers fell out, each one landing with a thud against the mat situated underneath him.

Hank’s pencil jotted against his notebook as he took notes. He knew you were powerful, but he’d had no idea you were capable of something like this.

Neither had you.

Once the metal wings were gone, Warren felt a new sensation: another pair of wings, this one soft and familiar, slowly emerging from him. Part of him expected the process to be painful, like the one Apocalypse had forced upon him was, but it wasn’t. Warren chuckled to himself. Of course you would never hurt him. Not even unintentionally.

After a few minutes, the feathery wings had fully emerged, stretched out to his full former wingspan and he stared up at you in awe. You stopped your flow of power to him, but he held onto your hands, squeezing them to keep them in his grasp.

He looked back at his new wings, flexed them and moved them. They felt familiar, like they had always belonged to him.

“Thank you.” He said, giving your hands another squeeze, the warmth in his chest brighter and bolder than it had been before. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” You told him, squeezing his hands right back in a way that caused his heart to lurch. “I’m glad I could help.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but do you mind if I keep some of these for research?” Hank asked.

“Keep all of them, if you want. I don’t want them.” Warren told him, standing up from his stool, his hands still in yours. “So, um…do you want to go grab dinner or something?”

“Sure.” You nodded, smiling up at him. “See you later, Hank.”

“Bye, guys, have a nice night.” Hank said as you and Warren walked out of his lab. He couldn’t help but notice the way one of your hands remained in one of his as the two of you left.

***

Later that night, after dinner and after you and Warren had split for the evening, you were walking back to your room from Jean and Jubilee’s and you found Warren, lingering in his doorway, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. His eyes widened when he spotted you and he held up a finger, indicating you should wait for him, so you did while he went into his bathroom and rinsed out his mouth, returning a few moments later.

“Hey.” He said, the word casual as it fell from his pink lips.

“Hey yourself.” You chuckled, feeling ridiculously underdressed in your pajamas. But then again, he was wearing his pajamas, too, a large black Metallica shirt and a pair of plaid pants.

“How…how are you? Feeling?” He stumbled over his words, chuckling as he rubbed the back of his neck. You felt a wave of nervousness rush through him. “Hank said sometimes you get tired after, uh, bigger healing jobs?”

“I’m fine.” You nodded. “For whatever reason, I never get tired when I’m healing you.” You chuckled, your cheeks heating up the slightest bit. “Well…I think I know why…”

“Heh, yeah.” He nodded, mulling over his next words very carefully. “Did you, um…I don’t know how to ask this. Did you mean what you said about…trying? About us trying…this. Trying us.”

“Of course I did.” You nodded and took a few steps closer to him. “You’re my soulmate.” You reached for his hand and he gave it to you, letting you play with his fingers. You felt the way his heart fluttered when you did. “Of course I want to try.”

“I’m broken.” He told you. “I’ve never done this before. I’m…I’m a lot, and I know that.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m a healer, huh?” You tilted your head. “And if we’re being honest, I’ve never done this before either. So how about we teach each other? Learn together?”

He smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

You let go of his hand and instead took the last few steps between the two of you, wrapping your arms around his torso. He froze for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. It had been…a long time since anyone had hugged him. But after a few moments, his arms got the hint and wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest. He rested his head atop yours and exhaled a long, long breath. And for the first time since you’d met him, you felt a wave of peace wash over him, encasing him entirely as his wings gently cocooned you in their warmth.

You felt his lips brush against your temple, pressing a soft kiss there. You looked up at him and his eyes met yours before fluttering shut as he leaned in to press his lips to yours.