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stardust-and-snickerdoodles · 2 months

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and i'll find strength in pain

fandom: Bones (TV)

pairing: Lance Sweets & Reader

summary: You were the victim of a violent attack a few weeks ago. Agent Booth has been a comfort for you, but he's out of his depth. He suggests you visit Dr. Sweets to talk about what happened to you.

tags/warnings: rape aftermath/recovery (implied), sh, anxiety, panic attacks, dissociation, emotional hurt/comfort, therapy

word count: 3334

a/n: this one's for all the people who are still thinking about lance sweets 10 years later and who, to this day, refuse to watch ep 10x1. if i don't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist

There’s a plaque on the door. It reads 2475, DR. LANCE SWEETS, Clinical Psychologist. You practically have the words memorized. You’ve been standing here for nearly five minutes, working up the courage to knock. Every time you raise your fist to do so, it trembles so violently that you drop it again. Agent Booth’s words ring in your ears from when he dropped you off:

Look for office 2475. Sweets will be able to help you.

Sweets will be able to help you.

Can anyone really help you though?

It’s been 2 weeks since the attack, and the five men who cornered you in that alley still haven’t been found. Your skin still prickles with the phantom of their touch. Every time you close your eyes, you see their sneering faces, their bulging eyes. You can’t walk home from work anymore. You can’t even drive past the alley without having to pull over and take 10 deep breaths, counting in for 3, out for 3.

How could anyone, anyone, help you with that?

Agent Booth has been kind so far. He’s not on your case, since it’s technically the state’s responsibility, but he’s the one who found you that night. He’s the one who drove you to the hospital while you were unconscious, stayed until you were awake. He wasn’t even deterred when you scrambled away from him, the sight of another man’s face leaving you panicking. He sat calmly and reassured you that you were safe and left his phone number on a napkin on your bedside table, along with a scrawled note, reading:

Call if you need anything. I can help you file a case.

You’d taken him up on the offer, calling the next day. He helped you make a report with the state, sat with you while you described your attackers to the forensic sketch artist. Although he’s not the most equipped to handle your moments of panic, never quite sure what to do, he still sits with you and talks you through it. Eventually, though, he must have realized he was out of his depth, because he referred you here.

To a psychologist.

For whatever reason, it’s ingrained in your mind that seeing a psychologist means you’re broken. You don’t want to think that way, but it’s hard not to. After what you went through, it’s easy to believe such things about yourself. Broken. Impure. Damaged.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts and suck in a deep breath. You wonder if Dr. Sweets knows you’re standing out here. The embarrassment of that thought is finally what allows you to work up the courage to knock. Three quiet taps on the door.

“Come in,” a voice responds.

You open the door slowly and peek around the edge. “Are you… Dr. Sweets?”

The man looks up from his desk. You’re taken aback by how young he is. Surely this isn’t the FBI psychologist? He’s so… well, young. Still, it’s better than some middle-aged man, someone like the men who attacked you-

You shake yourself and step inside as he responds. “That would be me.” His smile is gentle and reassuring. “Are you Y/N?”

You nod, stopping just inside the door. You’re unsure of where to go – there’s a couch and a chair facing it, but there’s also a chair in front of his desk where he sits… Which one? Where do you go? You stand awkwardly, waiting for some sort of direction.

Dr. Sweets stands, smoothing out his suit jacket. “Please, have a seat.” He gestures to the couch.

A swell of gratitude washes over you at his clear instruction. You seat yourself gingerly on the edge of the cushion, locking your hands together in front of you. Dr. Sweets takes the chair across from you, crossing one leg over the other. He observes you for a moment, eyes searching, and you shrink into yourself a bit. It feels exposing to be in front of him, like he can see all your secrets without you saying anything. Your eyes roam the room and the walls, trying to find something to distract yourself.

“How are you?” Sweets asks gently.

You swallow thickly and look down at your hands. “Fine… Agent Booth said I should talk to you.”

He nods. “Yes, he gave me a quick briefing on your situation. Is it alright if I ask you some questions?”

You avert your eyes, looking to the walls again. There’s a large window on the one to your right, but the blinds are closed. You wish he would open them so you could look somewhere else besides his probing eyes. “I guess so.” Your voice is shaky. You clear your throat to try to hide it.

Sweets, meanwhile, has been carefully taking in your body language and movement. He’d heard you hesitating outside the door, heard your soft pacing footsteps and rapid breathing. Since you walked in the door, he’s realized that he needs to take a gentle, soft approach with you. He doesn’t want to push you too far. From what Booth told him, the assault is still fresh in your memory. “First of all, I just want to say that you’re very brave for coming here. I know it can be scary to talk about these things and I’m very proud of you for taking this step. You’re safe here, and you’re totally in control. If you ever want to stop, or you don’t want to talk about something, you just say the word, alright?”

You nod, mostly subconsciously. His words feel empty, although there’s a sincerity too them. You just can’t bring yourself to believe him yet.

Sweets sees through you right away. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Do you believe that you’re safe here?”

Your response comes out as barely a whisper. “No…”

He nods gently. “Can you tell me why?”

You look down at your hands again, twisting them around the opposite wrists. The movement is soothing, grounding. “I don’t… feel safe anywhere. It’s too new. Every time I close my eyes, it’s like I’m back there…” You close your eyes briefly, but snap them open again when disturbing images fill your head. “I can’t escape it. Everyone is someone who could hurt me…” You drift off as you realize how much you’re giving away. These are the things you’ve kept close to your chest; it feels wrong to be saying them to a stranger.

Sweets can tell immediately when you start to become more uncomfortable. He eyes your hands, watching your fidgeting. He takes a moment to think before speaking again. He must tread carefully; he can’t risk you shutting down before he’s even gotten a chance to talk to you. “How about we stick to yes/no questions for now? Would that be easier?”

You shrug, twisting your hands a bit more roughly as the images continue to plague you. “Sure.”

“Are you aware of your surroundings at all times? Always… looking for danger?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah…”

Sweets keeps his voice gentle and quiet, but his mind is racing. The psychologist in him is searching for coping mechanisms, for things to say that might help; the human in him is fighting the desire to reach out and just comfort you. “Do you experience nightmares? Bad dreams?”

You nod again, eyes flicking back to the closed window. “Yes.”

“Do you ever have panic attacks? Moments of overwhelming fear or anxiety?”

You look up at the ceiling, twisting your hands harder. It begins to burn, but the feeling is good. It keeps you in the here and now. “I don’t know… maybe.”

Sweets watches where your eyes move, sees how you avoid eye contact at all costs. His own eyes dart to your wrists. Your fidgeting has grown more aggressive. He can see where your skin is becoming red and irritated. He frowns slightly. “Can I see your wrists?”

Your movements suddenly still and you shake your head. Shame floods your face.

Sweets notices the quick change in your demeanor. “Okay, we don’t have to look at them. Does the twisting help?”

You nod. “It… feels good. Calming.”

Sweets nods and files this information away for later. He’s going to help you find some healthier coping mechanisms – you can’t keep hurting yourself to stay grounded. “I get that. Do you want a stress ball or something? Something so you’re not hurting yourself?” He can already predict your answer, but it’s worth a shot.

You shake your head and grip your hands on your wrists. “I’m fine.”

“Okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Sweets leans back in his chair again. He wants to ask you about the assault, but you’re still so closed off. “Do you want some water? Maybe something else to drink, or eat?” He stands to retrieve a bottle for himself, hoping that it will make you feel more comfortable if he does it first.

Still, you shake your head. “I’m okay… do you have more questions?” You eyes drift to the door.

The young psychologist instantly notices your desire to leave and heads back to his seat, water in hand. He wants you to stay, wants you to start talking about this instead of bottling it up. “Couple more. Is that okay?”

You settle back onto the couch, hunching a bit to try and make yourself smaller. “Yeah…”

“You’re doing great,” Sweets offers you a reassuring smile although you’re not looking at him. “Can we talk about the attack?”

You hesitate, images flashing through your mind, before nodding. This is what you’re here for isn’t it? You can’t leave now. “What… what do you want to know?”

Sweets observes your closed-off posture, the hunch of your shoulders. This is going to take a while. He adjusts in his chair, trying to get comfortable while still staying professional. He speaks gently. “What were you doing before the attack?”

“Working,” you murmur. “I walked home.”

“Were you alone?”

You hum in affirmation, nodding your head. It had been so dark… The streetlight near the alley was out, you were walking through a shaded part of the sidewalk when they grabbed you…

Sweets watches as your eyes go glassy. He recognizes the beginning signs of dissociation and immediately works to pull you out of it, switching gears. “Where do you work?”

You shake yourself lightly and stare at the wall again. Your eyes settle on a divot in the paint, a spot where it’s been chipped away by a nail or something. “Newspaper… I’m a journalist.”

He nods and tilts his head at you, feeling a swell of pity. This really did a number on you. Booth described it to him, but he hadn’t gone into all the details… Clearly it was horrific if it’s causing you to be this dissociated and anxious. “That’s cool. Did you always want to be a journalist?”

For the first time, you meet his eyes. This topic is safe. These are things you can discuss. He offers you another reassuring smile as you shake your head. “I… wanted to be an astronaut. But my eyesight isn’t good enough.”

Sweets laughs lightly at the answer and you can’t help but crack your own small grin. His laugh is comforting, nothing at all like the men who attacked you… You shiver and refocus on his voice. “There’s a reason there aren’t many astronauts. Those requirements are very restrictive.” Sweets clears his throat and adjusts himself in his chair. You steel yourself, waiting for his next question. His distraction technique was effective, but now he has to get back to business. “So, you were walking home from work alone. What happened next?”

You swallow thickly and look back at the divot in the wall. Your hands go back to your wrists, feeling the warmth where you’ve managed to irritate your skin already. “I was walking by an alley… There were five men coming toward me. I was about to cross the street…” You suddenly are back in that moment, thinking the thoughts you were then. Your keys were clutched in one hand. Your other hand was shoved in your purse, gripping a small bottle of pepper spray. Your jaw was clenched, heart racing as you realized the danger you were in.

Sweets clears his throat to get your attention and you shake yourself out of your reverie. “You were about to cross the street. What then?”

“Um, they… they were quicker than me. They grabbed me and dragged me into the alley…” Your eyes go blank again. The divot in the wall seems to grow, a spec of grey that overtakes your vision. The world around you goes hazy. Sweets’s voice is a muffled background noise. Vaguely, you register the feeling of tears brimming in your eyes, of your hands twisting roughly against your wrists. The pain feels good, but it’s not enough.

Sweets watches closely, expecting you to continue, but then he notices the blank look on your face. You’ve gone completely still, save for your twisting hands. He observes you as you go pale, barely blinking. You’re completely shut down. “Y/N? Can you hear me?” He keeps his voice soft, gentle, trying not to scare you. He doesn’t know how far gone you are yet. He watches as your body begins to tremble, as your hands speed up in their motions. Your nails begin to catch against your skin, making harsh red lines across your wrists. Sweets knows he has to break you out of this, has to bring you back down to reality.

He stands slowly, walking around the coffee table to crouch in front of the couch where you sit. “Y/N. Listen to my voice. You’re safe here. You’re in my office at the FBI Headquarters. I’m Dr. Sweets, we’re here talking together. You’re safe, you’re not in danger anymore.” He keeps his voice level and soothing. He wants to reach out and touch you, but doesn’t want to jolt you. His eyes go back to your wrists, noticing how aggressively you’re scratching yourself. If you don’t come out of this soon, he will have to stop you from hurting yourself.

“Darling, listen to me.” The affectionate name slips out before he can stop himself. “Look at me if you can. You’re right here. You’re sitting on the couch in my office. You’re safe, I promise.” His words seem to be having no effect. If anything, your motions are becoming more frantic, your eyes more distant. Sweets sucks in a deep breath, hating what he has to do now.

He reaches out slowly to grip your wrists, wrenching them apart. You flinch at the touch, the first reaction he’s seen. He hates that it seems to be causing you more anguish, but you were near to drawing blood. He holds your wrists firmly, continuing to speak. “Listen, Y/N. I can’t let you hurt yourself. But you’re safe. Once you’re back with me, I’ll let you go, but you need to listen to me. You’re safe here. You’re not in any danger.” His voice breaks slightly on the words. He’s dealt with dissociation and panic attacks before, of course, but knowing the circumstances of yours makes it so much harder.

The wavering in his voice is what finally draws you back to reality. You blink slowly, and the divot on the wall shrinks back to where it belongs. Sweets’s voice becomes clearer, and you realize the firm grip on your wrists is his, not your attackers’. A choked sob forces itself from your throat as you look down at your joined hands. Suddenly your breaths come in gasps as you realize how deprived of oxygen you are.

Sweets loosens his grip a bit, realizing that you’re back with him. “There, shh. I have you.” He rubs soothing circles on your wrists, subtly reaching for your pulse with two fingers. It’s rapid, but steady. “You’re safe, I’ve got you. Deep breaths now.” He does some exaggerated breaths, trying to meet your gaze. You still stare at his hands on your own, but it’s not with glassy eyes. He lets out his own quiet sigh of relief.

You try to school your breathing, mimicking his slow breaths. Eventually, with his soft words and gentle coaching, you manage to soothe yourself.

Sweets finally relinquishes his hold on your hands, staying crouched in front of you. “There we are. Keep taking those deep breaths.”

You meet his eyes unsteadily. “I’m sorry,” the words come out quiet and broken.

Sweets shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. It’s perfectly reasonable to have such a reaction.”

You clasp your hands together in your lap, staring at the red lines that now adorn your wrists. You’ve never irritated your skin so much, and you feel embarrassed to have done so in front of this psychologist.

He tries to meet your gaze, attempting to draw your eyes from the injuries. “Let’s take a break, yeah? We can try again another day.” He offers you a small smile.

You nod. “I think… that would best.” You feel shaky and off-balance from the panic attack.

Sweets stands, being careful not to tower over you. He heads back to the fridge, retrieving a water bottle for you and a small packet of crackers. He sets them on the couch next to you before returning to his chair. He makes a point not to look at you, not wanting you to feel cornered or judged.

You take a slow sip from the water, all of a sudden feeling parched. You’re not sure what to say, not sure if you should leave now, or if you should stay. When you’re done drinking, you set the bottle down again and look at your lap.

Sweets clears his throat quietly and leans forward again. “Feel free to hang out here as long as you need. If you want to keep talking, I’m just going to be at my desk, okay?”

You nod, grateful that he won’t be staring at you. You don’t feel quite steady enough to get up and drive home yet, so you settle back into the couch, taking slow sips from the water and nibbling on small bits of cracker. Sweets taps away on his computer, occasionally glancing up at you to make sure you’re okay.

The panic attack left you feeling exhausted, and you’re trying hard not to fall asleep, but the couch is very comfortable, and you somehow feel safe here. Your head keeps lolling to the side and you have to shake yourself to stay awake. Sweets looks up and catches this at one point. He smiles to himself and calls to you gently. “Rest. It’s okay; you’re safe. Do you want a blanket?”

You fidget with your hands again, stifling a yawn. You’re too tired to even try to protest, so you nod your head. He stands and retrieves a fluffy blanket from a nearby closet, handing it to you. You thank him and wrap it around yourself, settling more comfortably into the couch as he walks back to the desk.

The next time Sweets looks up, you’re curled up on your side on the couch, breathing deeply with your eyes closed. He smiles again, feeling honored that you feel safe enough in his presence to sleep. He shoots a quick text to Booth letting him know that you’re ready to be picked up. Booth of course wants to know how the session went, but Sweets leaves him on read. You can tell him yourself, if you feel comfortable enough to do so.

Although Sweets didn’t manage to get you to open up as much as he’d have liked, he truly didn’t expect to. You’ve been through hell, and it’s going to take a long time to walk out of that. Still, he feels he’s made progress. You trust him, even if it’s just a small amount.

He has a feeling he’ll be seeing you again very soon.

#imagine #imagines #oneshot #x reader #writing #fiction #bones #lance sweets #lance sweets x reader #lance sweets x you #angst #hurt/comfort #therapy #mental health #healing #panic attack #dissociation

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jaehunnyy · 1 year

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A touch of Heaven

Genre: strangers-to-lovers!au, right person, wrong time trope, a bit of angst, fluff, crack maybe?

Word count: 2k

Pairing: Yunho x reader (feat. the rest of Ateez, San x Y/n's best friend)

Warnings: parties, drinking, getting married in Vegas for fun (and as a joke), time-skip, a kiss, one pet name, possible grammar mistakes

Taglist: @shakalakaboomboo, @ssaboala, @bluisheye93

Networks: @cromernet 🤍

Beginning of college, 2019

Having all of your friends chant the same name every time you met to decide where to celebrate the beginning of another chapter of your lives was starting to give you a bit of a headache. Vegas here, Vegas there. It wasn't that the city didn't appeal to you; heck, you were as excited as them, but you were also scared—so many things could happen in one week, and you weren't usually the luckiest one when it came to stuff like this. You could even imagine yourself drunkenly marrying someone you hopefully won't ever see again, and though what happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas, that would remain tattooed on your heart as well. And despite your friends acknowledging your hesitation and saying that you should decide where to go, for the first time in a while, you agreed to go with the flow and see what was waiting for you there.

Said and done. Your little vacation in Vegas has started better than you would have expected; the first days were pretty chill, the rainy weather making you stay indoors more than not, which you enjoyed; you weren't quite a big fan of parties, so that was more than perfect for you, despite wanting to visit and see more of what the city had to offer.

The next few days though, were going to be the interesting ones. The beach was full of decorations for the upcoming party, the shy shadow of a moon settling itself on the sky. The sand was hugged by the blue waves of the sea, while your friends started to make conversations with the other late teenagers, wanting to have some fun. The atmosphere seemed to have a different effect on you, though—you find it quite suitable for you to reflect over your future, the comforting noise of the beach cleaning your mind; or at least intending to do so, unless you heard your name from your friend's loud voice.

"C'mon, Y/n, you can't stay here all night and do nothing. We came here to have fun…" Wooyoung said, a bit of anxiety in his voice as he feared you didn't feel good with their choice of coming here. "Is there something off?"

You smiled at him, making him relax a bit, though he wasn't entirely convinced that you were feeling it. "I'm fine, Woo. I was just thinking…"

You heard another voice coming from behind you, your other friend's arms patting your back softly.

"Y/n, the future is something you can worry about after this trip. You worked hard to get where you are now, so consider this your reward. Furthermore, I'm getting married tonight!"

Despite laughing at how determined she was to make her dream come true, her advice might have actually helped you a bit—so, on an impulse, you grabbed Wooyoung's hand and got up, grabbing a can of beer for yourself and going to the big crowd of people.

Later on, you forgot about whatever happened before you joined them. Everyone's jokes were getting the loudest laughter out of you, your tipsy nature showing already. More chaos was summoned the moment your friend chose to fake a marriage with a dimpled-smile boy for fun, getting you responsible for the rings, which you gladly accepted. And that's when plans changed for you—when, guided by your excitement, you ran into a tall man, his eyes shooting you a worried look immediately.

"Are you okay?" he asked, hand on your back to give you some support so you wouldn't fall.

The stars in his eyes made something sparkle inside of you as well, and knowing yourself and how you attach to people, this was what you feared the most before coming here.

"I'm fine…" you whispered, looking away from him as soon as you noticed him looking back.

"May I ask why you were in such a hurry?" he chuckled, moving his hand away from your back since he was scared that it would make you uncomfortable.

"My friends are getting married and I need to buy the ringssss!" you squealed, pointing your finger to the happy couple.

"San is marrying your friend?"

"The dimple guy is your friend?"

You two laughed together, an echo of innocent chuckles around you as you discovered a thing you two had in common.

"Let's go together, then." he smiled and offered you his hand to hold, which you gladly accepted.

On your way to finding whatever would serve as two rings, you found out that his name was Yunho and he was the chill type as well, resembling you. They were there to celebrate San's birthday, so he was all around the place, hoping time would pass just a little faster. His other friend, Mingi, was a party lover since they knew him, and something about his attitude made Yeosang love them too after a few glasses of alcohol. Jongho was usually chill, but he let go of his personality for the sake of the birthday boy. You told him that your friends were similar as well, Wooyoung being the type to go clubbing and convince Seonghwa and Hongjoong to follow him (mostly because he was a menace), while your common friend loved getting herself some new friends.

"Do you want to go take a walk after they are done?" he smiled, convincing you almost immediately.

"I would love to." you said, returning his gesture.

Two hours later, the wedding was "officiated" by his friend, Mingi, who seemed to have a lot of fun while playing that role, with some of the drinks packaging serving as the papers the married couple had signed. You and Yunho went for the walk he promised, admiring the stars cladded sky while finding new stuff about each other.

"Do you think they will regret anything in the morning?" you asked, gaining a soft grin from him.

"Even if they do, it's nothing official anyway. We would probably make fun of Mingi for the rest of our lives though." he said, before entering another mantra of silent thoughts: "When are you leaving?"

"In two days, what about you?"

"Three. I still have a bit of a long ride, but at least I have someone similar now."

You honestly thought that time flew faster than it should have with Yunho by your side. You were supposed to have fun with your 5 friends, yet, you found yourself screaming old songs' lyrics while Yunho was driving around the city, turning the chilly ride into a Carpool Karaoke wannabe. You even got yourselves matchy bracelets, something about your bond making you feel like you have known each other for years. You took pictures together, tested the diners around the hotel you stayed in, swam together, all under the nosy looks of your friends (who bonded immediately as well, especially because Wooyoung and San seemed to become best friends and your friend didn't stop calling San her husband).

And as much as you wished for these two days to last forever, these beautiful moments end faster than we expect. For the last time, you were out with Yunho, the cold water touching your legs as you shared your impressions on this holiday, in the last 5 minutes you had together. His head was on your lap while you played with his blonde hair, listening to him saying he was gonna miss this, miss you.

"You know… I've had an idea…"

You looked at him with doe eyes, showing him that he had all of your attention.

"Do you think we are meant to be? I mean, we still have to pursue our careers, we live in different states…"

It was way too early to think about what future was planned for you and Yunho, if there was even a future for the two of you. You did feel like you two were completing each other, but the time you spent together wasn't helping you, nor the conditions you'd be in as soon as you return to your usual life.

"You might be the right person, but our time was too short to even figure it out, Yunho." you looked away from him, avoiding his saddened gaze.

"What if we meet again in 4 years?" he innocently asked, getting up from your lap so he could properly face you. "Same place, same date, but in 4 years. That would be enough for us to figure out what we want to do with our lives, to see what would happen."

You frowned a bit at his offer, there was no way he was serious, was he?

"That's insane, Yunho. What if we will find someone else in those years?"

"Well then, this would mean the inevitable—we weren't meant to be."

You didn't have the nerve, nor the time to think about this too much. You were sure that things would settle differently until then, but you chose to go with the flow once again.

"Let's do that, Yunho. May we meet again." you smiled and kissed his cheek, going to your friends who were already waiting for you.

"May we meet again…" he said, touching his cheek in the spot you kissed it before.

End of college, 2023

"I still cannot believe you two did it like the oldies. What are you? Millennials? You had all the possibilities to talk, yet you chose to not even get his number!"

"Woo, stop—"

"Even when San offered to give me Yunho's number, you refused it!"

A laugh took over your face as you looked at Wooyoung, not believing he was really scolding you right then for what you and Yunho decided. Yet, there you were, the taxi almost passing the speed limit as you were pleading him to take you faster to the beach where it all started.

Yunho was nervously walking back and forth on the sand, with San following his every move.

"Can you stop already…? You're making me dizzy." the younger said, watching as his friend was walking further from him.

"Yunho, listen to me! I know it's past the time, but… give it another shot, it doesn't have to be perfect to turn into something beautiful!"

Yunho looked at him, a soft smile creeping on his face.

"I guess I should trust you… you seem to have your way with words."

San smirked at that, a little dimple appearing on his cheek as he went and hugged his friend. And right when he opened his eyes, he saw two pretty familiar figures running towards them, his face lightning immediately in joy.

"WOOYOUNG!" he screamed, pushing Yunho and going to the other boy, hugging him tight.

Yunho turned to his direction, noticing the joyful reunion of the best friends, and lastly, but who he expected the most, you.

You took in his features, his dark hair making him look even better than when you last saw him.

"You came."

You both said at the same time, giggling shortly after you noticed that your chemistry was still there.

"Would have been here earlier, but the traffic was insane."

His hands grabbed your waist softly, his deep gaze scanning your beautiful features.

"I guess we were… meant to be, or whatever?" you asked, hands around his neck.

"Someone got a bit bold." he smirked, getting closer to your face.

"Well, I seem to be stuck with you, so I gotta charm you somehow."

In a blink of an eye, your lips pressed together, melting into a sweet kiss, full of longing, but also relief—the relief that things worked for you.

"Love birdies, we're still on a beach, public space, you know?" San said cockily, giving Wooyoung a high-five.

"Said the one who almost crushed his long lost friend."

"That's a story for another day!" Wooyoung defended himself.

"That's right, because the main story is about me and my future lover today." Yunho smiled, hugging you close to his chest once again.

"Come, love, we have a lot to catch up on." you dragged him after you, leaving Woo and San flabbergasted behind.

Maybe destiny has its way of working, and those ways are different for every couple. For you and Yunho, it proved that the distance couldn't extinguish the flame between the two of you, the touch of heaven making you grow more found of each other, waiting for the next plans the future had with you.

#ateez fanfic #ateez ff #ateez yunho #kpop oneshots #kpop ff #ateez oneshot #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #yunho x y/n #ateez fluff #ateez angst #yunho fluff #yunho angst #yunho fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop angst #jeong yunho ateez #chip writes ✨️

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jedimordsith · 3 months

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Deleted Scene from Latibule

Luke looked up from his reading when the door to the Organa-Solo apartment slid open. Han wandered into the sitting room a moment later. His sense was warm and relaxed, and his attire matched. His formal jacket was slung over one shoulder, his shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his spavat had been untied and hung loose at his collar.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted. “Pretty quiet in here. You didn’t sell my kids to the circus, did you?”

”Not for lack of trying,” Luke quipped back, marking his spot and tossing his data pad on the lounger beside him. “Ringmaster said they were too small yet. Since I have to wait and try again next year, I dropped them back in their beds. They’ve been out cold for an hour. How was the event?”

“Just like every other one,” Han shrugged and flung his jacket over a nearby chair. “Lots of fancy people who like to listen to themselves talk eating fussy hors d'oeuvres and drinking wine that’s more label than taste. Leia had a good time until she and Winter got cornered into a hush-hush meeting with Mon over something.” He frowned. “Why didn’t you go, anyway? You like museums.”

“I’ve already been,” Luke said casually, rolling to his feet and grabbing his glass from the side table.

”This was the grand opening,” Han objected. “What, did you get some kind of special Jedi tour?”

“Something like that,” Luke offered noncommittally, angling past his brother-in-law toward the kitchen.

Han’s demeanor turned smug. “Let me guess — it was one of your excursions with Jade.”

“It might have been,” Luke shot a sly look over his shoulder. “But I’d keep that suspicion to yourself if I was you.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

”Because you have a life day coming up, and if you don’t do anything to bring unwanted attention to Mara, a bottle of Whyren’s gold might find its way into your gift pile.”

“Gold label?” Ambling after him, Han whistled. “How’re you affording that on a Jedi’s salary?”

”Mara’s getting a couple cases at a pretty serious discount,” Luke confided, rinsing his glass and putting it in the cleaning unit. “Someone at the distillery owes her a favor.”

”That’s some favor.” Han cocked his head. “She seems like the type who knows how to collect ‘em, though.”

The Omega in Luke bristled. He immediately quelled the reaction, but not before Han caught it.

“Hey,” he said, lifting his hands, palms out. “You know I’ve got nothing but respect for Jade. The NRI might jump to tawdry assumptions, but that’s just because they lack imagination. Me,” he lowered his hands, pointing at his chest. “I’ve been around the system. Flesh is easy and cheap. You want to collect real favors, you have to get into the weird stuff.” Raising his eyebrows, he held his hands a short distance apart, palms parallel to one another. “Saw a guy trade a whole moon once for this ugly little statue — this big, looked like it oughta be a doorstop at a tacky cantina.”

Amused, Luke felt the tension in his shoulders ease. He clapped a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder as he passed back toward the sitting room.

He’d known, intellectually, that it would take a while for the NRI to warm up to Karrde and, by extension, Mara. The Intelligence community was skeptical of smugglers as a whole and less than thrilled at how deftly Karrde’s organization had shoe-horned its way into the respectable echelons of the New Republic government. The fact that they couldn’t find a single record of Mara’s existence prior to her work for Karrde only exacerbated their frustrations. He didn’t begrudge them their caution, really.

But after three heats spent in Mara’s bed, the Omega in him had unavoidably begun to think of her as his, and he couldn’t entirely suppress the instinctive resentment that flared when she was disrespected.

Their secret Force-healing and training sessions didn’t help the situation. Mara was intensely careful about her shielding, only ever letting him into one small section of her mind or body at a time, but the anxiety singing at the edges of his touch each time left him profoundly aware of the risk she was taking, entrusting him with even that much. There was something incredibly intimate about extending his own control over the Force into her body, knitting together the fine sheathing around ravaged nerves or unraveling knotted scar tissue and seeing her entire body soften as a long-borne pain slipped away. About the way she smiled when they finished, as if he could see a little more light behind her eyes, a little more spaciousness in her breath.

Then there were their “excursions” as Han called them. Mara had grown up on Coruscant and, much to his delight, Luke had discovered that she had a mischievous streak. When the mood struck, she would appear from nowhere with a glint in her eyes that made his heart rate kick up with the same bright anticipation he’d known as a youth when he raced his skyhopper toward the canyons to Thread the Needle or when sneaking round bases during the early days of the war with the Rogues, intent on pranking another squadron. Ditching whatever he was supposed to be doing, he’d follow her at all hours of day or night. It was through those stolen moments that she introduced him to all the intriguing places that existed beneath the surface —often literally — of Coruscant’s glittering cityscape. Private libraries. Greasy cantinas whose menus were as obscure as they were mouth-watering. Junk shops whose backroom shelves mysteriously stocked the most hard-to-find parts for anyone willing to ask no questions about their provenance. And, occasionally, secret tunnels and camoflaged peep holes through which they accessed yet-to-open museum exhibits or dress rehearsals of the most in-demand new performances.

In her determination to prove her independence from her former master and the life he’d shackled her into, Mara was steadily, and entirely accidentally, achieving the one goal she’d believed wholly out of reach: capturing Luke’s heart.

It’s fine, he told himself for the hundredth time, gathering his data pad and bidding Han goodnight. It wasn’t like they slept together outside of his heats, and Mara was genuinely the perfect Alpha. She would never claim him, would never try to bind him or prevent him from keeping his vows of independence and service to the new Jedi Order that he was building. As an Omega, it wasn’t like he could claim her, and her traumatic past meant that even at his weakest he would never ask her to claim him. If she ever found another Omega to bond with, the loss might kill him. Unless or until then, however, he intended to enjoy every moment he could manage with her.

#my fic #deleted scene #luke skwalker #mara jade #luke x mara

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lokiprompts · 2 years

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Appropriate - Chapter 5

"The Grocery Store"

Summary: Loki x Female reader; Loki is banished to Midgard and he has to live an average life as penance...and you, a social worker, is there to help him along the way. Rom Com vibes. Pinning; emotional edging until we can't take it anymore.

Chapter Summary: You take Loki to the grocery store, but he has to face some new, unwanted feelings.

Words. 6k Other chapters on my tag list.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, Sad Loki, some angst. Pining. Anxiety and panic attack.

Song to listen to while reading: Kayak for One

AN: I don't offer taglists anymore. Remember to reblog if you like a writer's work! Comments make my heart go pitter patter.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

It has been almost a week since Loki had seen you last, and the prince was starting to wonder if you had forgotten about him. A couple of days after your shopping trip, you called him on his cell phone and he all but leapt out of his chair to grab the device and hear your voice once again. You had called to inform him that his microwave was going to be replaced later that day and its replacement came just in time. If Loki had to eat one more bite of cold, canned food he was going to lose it.

Much to his dismay, the conversation on the phone was hardly a conversation at all. It lasted all of two minutes and when he tried to ask about your day, you apologized and told him you had a meeting. Still, he got dressed in the hope that he would see you. He put on the slim line, black dress pants he tried on for you at the store and a dark blue button up shirt. When he picked it out and tried it on, you commented how the color brought out his eyes. Emerald is his signature color, but he found himself picking out more blue items just for you. As soon as he heard a knock at the door, he whipped it open with a wide smile, only to be met with another terrified worker holding a large box. Loki sighed, stepping to the side, and letting the worker install his microwave, while keeping his eyes trained on the door. You never came.

Another four days had passed since then and with nothing to do besides sit and think. Think and stare at the photo of you on his cell phone. Granted, he always had the option to wander around the common areas of the Tower, but it was clear that the team did not want him there, and the staff and guests that frequented the building were terrified of him. It was better for him to stay in his room, Loki thought. Every once and awhile Thor would stop by his room and try and convince him to ‘socialize’, but his older brother’s attempts were never successful.

And in the quiet of his room, his mind wandered back to you. It always wandered back to you. The sweet sound of your laugh, the brightness of your eyes, and how you so tenderly cared for him. Every little detail of your interactions, he would think about and analyze to the point of obsession. To the point of wondering why you were the object of his mind. Never had he thought about someone to this degree before. Well, except for one person.

A crush he had when he was a young boy – a young maid named Ingrid. From the moment he woke until he fell asleep, he would think of her. It didn’t matter that this maid was older than him, still he pictured a life with her. Sweeping her off her feet and stealing her away to live a life of finery and royalty. Loki would find reasons to be around her, even though she wasn’t assigned his chambers or even the same wing of the palace and it went on like this for several years, until she no longer worked for the royal family. The young prince never found out why she left, but he always believed his ‘father’, Odin, had a hand in it.

The memory made him grumble with resentment, but also gave him pause – did he have romantic feelings for you? Everything he felt reminded him of how he felt with Ingrid, but was that just an obsession out of boredom? It was a question that plagued Loki to no end. He couldn’t deny how his heart fluttered every time he saw you and how he delighted in your laugh. Every new thing he learned about you, he adored. Your obscene number of plants? Heartwarming. Your overly sweet coffee order? Precious. The way you mouth words to song in the car, thrumming your fingers on the steering wheel? Adorable.

“But a mortal…” Loki grumbled to himself from his perch on his beige chair. He thought back to all his conversations with Thor and his love for the mortal woman, Jane. How it would inevitably fail.

“A mere heartbeat…” The thought of your death brought a feeling of profound sadness that was unsettling and foreign. The god was no stranger to grief, his heart still hasn’t mended from the death of his mother, and it is unlikely it ever will, but why would he be sad about your death? Objectively, he barely knew you and you would be gone in under a century. But he thought of your skin becoming wrinkled and paper thin, your hair gray and the brightness of your eyes faded and tired. It made his whole-body shudder.

He couldn’t deny that he felt protective over you. The smallness of your body, especially compared to his, ignited a flame – no, an unbridled need - to shelter you, care for you, and to keep you from all harm. The very first day he met you and you were frantically writing your notes, he saw how little your hands were. Lifting his own large, calloused hand to examine, he wondered how your palm would fit in his. How his fingers would engulf yours, anchor you and keep you grounded during times of uncertainty. Those dainty hands would grip onto his shirt as he held you trembling body close. Tears would be forbidden to grace your skin, and Loki knew he would make quick work of wiping them away from your face. Would you recoil from him? Never, Loki thought. No, you would bury yourself closer to him, and he would hold you close, impossibly close, as if his touch could ward of your sadness.

Who could hurt a precious soul like you? The thought simultaneously enraged Loki and brought tears to the corner of his eyes. The god’s mind delved deep into a fantasy of a faceless person towering over you. The look of terror that would be painted on your face made Loki’s heart race. His magic would thrum through his body, all his muscles flexing with power and the desire to protect you. How dare anyone harm his beloved, he thought, harm what is mine.

A knock on the door ripped Loki from his thoughts. He stared at the door, his brows furrowed in confusion since he wasn’t expecting anyone, and it is unlike Thor to be bothering him this early in the morning. Slowly, he stood and made his way over to the door. There was another knock, and finally Loki opened the door to see your smiling face.

“Hi, Loki!” Your smile faded, “What’s wrong?”

Loki hadn’t noticed that a tear had escaped while his imagination ran wild with thoughts of saving you. Quickly, he brushed it away with the back of his sleeve.

“I’m wonderful, Dar – Lady Y/N,” Now that you are here, he thought, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I am making a quick trip to the grocery store, and I thought I could invite you – get you out of the tower a bit and maybe show you how it’s done.” You shifted your bag over your shoulder and Loki noted you looked a bit uneasy, "I have a tight schedule today, so it won’t be very long.”

“What is the point of me learning how to shop, when I cannot even leave the tower?” The question, though valid, left his mouth before he could even truly think about it. Why was he questioning the opportunity to leave and spend time with you? You’re an idiot.

You pursed your lips, trying to mask your annoyance and your expression makes Loki switch his gaze from you to his feet, “Well, the goal is for you to be able to not have your dampeners on and to be a part of the Tower and this world. But, if you don’t want to learn, that is fine. You don’t have to come.”

He sighs, “I will go with you. May I change before we leave?” You simply nodded and Loki was quick to turn on his heels. The way you were acting was so odd. Never once have you been short with him, and it brought on a pang of guilt. He never wanted to be the source of your discomfort.

Loki made quick work of getting dressed, putting on tight, slim black jeans and a light blue sweater. He emerged from his apartment, greeting you with a tight-lipped smile and you were off.

“I am sorry for upsetting you, Lady Y/N.” Loki sincerely apologized as you both made your way down to the lobby.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him, “No, you have no reason to apologize, Loki. I am the one who should be sorry. You asked a very valid question, and I shouldn’t have been short with you like that.” During your apology, Loki was able to give you a proper look. Frankly, you looked exhausted. The dark circles under your eyes were a clear indicator of that and your spark, your usual lightness seemed forced. It was a stark difference from the woman who was so sweet and playful on their last shopping trip.

He accepted your apology immediately, “Is everything alright?” Loki knew he may be crossing a line with you and what you considered ‘appropriate’, but he sincerely wanted to know. The more he looked at you, the more worried for you he became.

You sighed, offering your hands to him in a silent signal for him to present his dampeners. He did so without question, and you brought up the hologram to adjust his restrictions.

“It’s been a stressful few days. My work schedule is kind of crazy right now, and I shouldn’t let it affect my interactions with you,” You shook your head after you finalized your adjustments, releasing his wrists, “If it is okay with you, would you mind terribly if I make a call or two on our way to the store? I won’t let it take up too much of our time I promise…and I am sorry, our visit will be a bit shorter-”.

“Lady Y/N”, Loki lifted a hand, halting your rambling, “It’s quite alright. I understand your importance and I don’t mind sharing my time.” It was a lie. Loki hated sharing his time with you, but he would do anything to get that sad look off your face. The soft smile you rewarded him with was enough.

Wordlessly, he followed you out to your car again that looked like it somehow accumulated even more empty coffee cups. Loki didn’t say anything, but it made him wonder how much you have been sleeping and eating these past few days. You cared so much for the wellbeing of others, but who cared for you?

After buckling in and pulling out on the road, you tapped a few buttons on the screen connected to the dashboard. Loki tried to get a look of who you were trying to connect with, but all the names on the list on the screen were just initials. He had no idea.

“Hi! How are you?” You chirped into your earpiece, easily masking your exhaustion. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I was planning on seeing you tomorrow if that’s okay? How about nine in the morning?” There was a pause on your end and Loki strained to hear the voice on the other end. Usually, his godly hearing would make this an easy task, but these damn dampeners affected him more than he thought. Even though he knew you were working, and he had agreed to it, Loki couldn’t ignore the bite of jealous that had started to take hold in his chest.

“Oh! That is great! I am so proud of you!” Loki slumped further down in his seat; his arms crossed against his chest. He felt like a petulant child not getting enough attention, but he couldn’t help the downward spiral of thoughts that seemed to plague him whenever he was around you. Would you ever tell him that you were proud of him? He laid his head against the cold glass of the passenger window, rolling his eyes at his own thoughts. What has he done to earn your praise and pride? He scoffed. You were someone sweet, kind, and thoughtful, and he was a criminal who couldn’t even go shopping on his own. There was nothing about him to be proud of, only shame.

“Have you been around the Tower at all?” Your voice pulled Loki from his thoughts. He hadn’t realized you were off your communication device, “I am sure it can be quite boring in that room of yours.”

Your laugh made his lips twitch upwards in a small smile. It was a welcome reprieve from his self-deprecating thoughts. “No, I haven’t left the room much, actually.”

You frowned, keeping your eyes trained on the road, “Why is that?”

Loki wrapped his arms tighter around himself, “I am not exactly welcome.”

You hummed thoughtfully as your fingers thrummed on the steering wheel, “Well, you know,” You peeked at him out of your peripheral and your slight smile caught the god’s attention, “You do have access to the library at the Tower. From what I recall, it’s pretty quiet there. Not many people go there.”

Loki tilted his head and saw the grin that graced your face, and soon he found a smirk matching your own, “Thank you. I will have to visit.” He was beyond thankful for this information. Maybe if he had something to occupy his mind, he would think about you less. Did he want to think about you less?

Before he knew it, you were pulling into a large parking lot, and you were exciting the vehicle. Loki followed after you and it reminded him of a Midgardian dog, so he made quick work to catch up, so he was next to you. Without a word, you grabbed a large cart, and you offered a piece of paper which he took from you. He tried to ignore the way his heart sped up from just the light brush of your fingers against his.

Finally walking inside of the building, Loki took a closer look at the list. His dark brows were furrowed in concentration and soft lips were moving with each murmur of a listed item: eggs, flour, cereal, milk…

Loki hadn’t noticed that you had stopped, until he looked back over his shoulder and saw you with a smile on your face that almost looked…fond? “I’m sorry,” For what you were apologizing for, he didn’t know, “I didn’t want to disturb your thinking. You looked so focused.”

Quickly, the prince looked away from you in a pathetic attempt to hide the rosy flush that spread across his cheeks, “I just want to be thorough,” To please you, he thought. “Since I understand you are busy today.” Brilliant deflection, Loki.

You stepped up to Loki with your cart and explained to him how important it is to have a list, otherwise you will be shopping with your stomach which is typically a recipe for disaster. He loved the smirk that spread across your face; clear evidence of mischief brewing underneath your professional demeanor. He grinned back at you while letting his mind indulge in a daydream of you filling up your cart with sweets.

The prince followed you around the ordinary Midgardian grocery store, utterly fascinated by everything you did. The god trailed just behind you as you pushed your cart, catching your lingering stare on luscious display of green, indoor plants.

“You should buy one,” Loki suddenly said, making you turn to him with a quirk in your brow, “For your office.”

A laugh bubbled up out of your chest and Loki bit his lip to hold back a bold confession of how much he loved the sound of your happiness.

“The last thing I need is another plant.”

Loki shrugged, “One more couldn’t hurt. You deserve it.” If he could, he would buy you a plant just to make you smile. He pictured surprising you with the little green plant, making your face split in joy at his thoughtfulness. He would buy you whatever you wanted. The once posh prince stuck his hands in his pant pockets, reminding him of how empty they were, and he frowned.

“First, the dress, now the plants! You will be the end to my bank account, Loki.” The tips of your fingers lingered on the leaf of a gorgeous calathea, subtly showing your want. He wondered why you wouldn’t indulge yourself with such a little thing. If you were back on Asgard with him, you would want for nothing. The palace gardens would be yours. Cascades of flowers planted and bloomed in the name of your beauty. But you moved on before Loki could lose himself in that fantasy.

Conversation flowed easily between the two of you and he was able to ask questions without fear of judgement or teasing. He helped you find things on your list, offering to reach and get things on the highest shelves after he saw you practically scale the cereal shelves like you were climbing Mt. Everest. Though, he did steal some pleasure in watching your small body struggle as you stretched for the sweet breakfast treat, giving him a delicious view of your ample backside. But what he loved the most was the feeling of his large hands splayed across the small of your back to steady you.

“Th-Thank you…” You stammered, looking a bit flustered at his touch. Loki wished he could have followed it with a smooth purr of ‘my pleasure’, but instead he flashed you a lopsided grin that was equally as awkward. What was that? He chastised himself. Clearing his throat, he went back to the comfortable and easy conversation of Midgardian food.

Thankfully, he found some fruits and vegetables that reminded him of foods on Asgard. He huffed about the quality of foods he was given from the grocery drop and you promised him you would show him how to cook a real meal soon. The thought about spending more time with you making Loki’s stomach flip with excitement. And when you paired your promise with a squeeze of his bicep, he swore you could hear the hammering of his heart within his chest.

Despite the quick nature of the trip, Loki was greedily sucking up his time with you. Surprisingly, he found joy in the mundane task, but what he didn’t enjoy were the other customers.

He absolutely loathed them.

And he figured you did too, with each little annoyed huff when someone blocked the whole aisle with their cart, seemingly unaware of the fact that someone other than them was trying to shop too.

“Excuse me.” You would sweetly say through gritted teeth. Sometimes you would have to repeat yourself when you were blatantly ignored. You seemed to have endless patience, something that warmed Loki from the inside out, you precious thing. But Loki was starting to get annoyed and downright irritated with each disrespectful interaction towards you. By the time he went down a few more aisles with you, his knuckles were white from his clenched fists, and he had a low growl threatened to explode from deep inside his chest.

Loki had walked ahead of you with your list in hand, carefully examining the baking aisle for the foods you desired. You were doing the same, plucking some vanilla extract off the shelf when another customer unceremoniously crashed his cart into your ankle, making you cry out in pain.

Your anguished shriek was Loki’s final tipping point.

He was by your side in an instant, a bag of flour discarded and long forgotten in the grocery aisle. The tall god kneeled by your side, peeling off your shoe to evaluate your injury. You tried to complain about him touching you without permission, but you were too busy sucking in air from the sting that traveled up your calf to even protest. Blood trickled down from the back of your foot and with a quick glance, Loki saw how your eyes watered in pain and it broke a piece inside of him. Tears had no place on your beautiful, sweet face. Without even thinking about it, his muscle memory kicked in and he hovered a hand over the wound.

Nothing happened. Loki’s frown deepened as the feeling of powerlessness washed over him. Healing was never his forte, but his seidr could help with simple wounds like this. Now, here in this hellscape of a Midgardian store, he couldn’t even help you. His glassy, crystal blue eyes stared at the redness that stained your precious skin while his thoughts tormented him.

You are worthless. You have nothing to offer. You can’t care for yourself. You imagine a life where you care for her, this princess of Midgard, and you can’t even protect her. All you can do is follow a stupid list and reach for things, and even the oaf can do that.

“I am so sorry Miss!” The frantic and apologetic voice of the random man who hit you with his shopping cart jerked Loki out of his downward spiral and right onto a war path. If he can’t heal you or protect you, he can at least put this pathetic meat bag of a mortal in his place.

“Watch where you are going, you pitiful brainless worm!” Loki spat, his words dripping with venom and anger for you. His large hands gripped the neck of the man who dared to injure you, and even though his strength was weakened from the dampeners, his iron grip still picked the parasite off the ground. Loki’s lips twisted up in sadistic satisfaction at the garbled choking sound coming from the mortal in his grip.

“How dare you injure her!” Each word masked his shame and feelings of powerlessness, but his anger had taken over. There was no forgiveness for this mortal, but still he yelled, “Apologize! Apologize right no-“

“Loki!” Your scream stopped his tirade and the beating of his heart. The god’s wild eyes turned to you, and he saw something new on your fac. Something he never thought he would see from you.

Fear.

Immediately, Loki dropped the man in his grasp who then tumbled to the ground, wheezing, and clawing at his throat as sweet oxygen filled his lungs.

“What is wrong with you?!” The man yelled at the stunned god who towered above him still, “It was an accident, you monster!”

Loki lifted his eyes from the crumpled man at his feet to see your wide eyes and the terrified look of all the grocery store customers. Every bit of remaining anger was sucked out of him and replaced with shame and disgust at himself. He took a step back from the man he assaulted who was still crumpled on the floor until his back hit the stack of shelves of the grocery aisle. Loki’s body began to tremble as the weight of what he did began to set in. The god’s breath quickened, and he thought he heard your voice, but everything sounded so far away yet everything felt too close. The feeling of being trapped overwhelmed him and his anxiety riddled body all but ran to the front of the store and hiding himself away in a private, family style bathroom.

Loki’s back hit the cold wall of the public bathroom, sliding down until he was slumped on the floor with his head between his knees. His breathing became erratic as the word ‘monster’ replayed in his mind like a sadistic record player. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks and all he could hear was his hyperventilating breathing, totally missing the soft click of the bathroom door.

“Loki?” Hearing your soft, sweet voice made him recoil further into himself. He didn’t deserve to be near you.

You crouched down in front of him, a slight frown on your face as you took in the god who looked so small. Carefully, you reached forward and placed a tentative hand on his knee. Loki flinched, initially, but he didn’t pull away.

Your touch felt comforting, yet it burned with the reminder of how undeserving he was of that comfort.

I’m a monster…

“Loki, you are not a monster,” He hadn’t realized he had spoken those words out loud, “Look at me.”

First, he shook his head, the stubborn god he is, but the soft touch of your hand on his made him finally lay his watery gaze on you. Everything was blurry and he struggled to catch his breath. He felt you move his hand to rest on your chest, the firmness of your collarbones running under his fingers.

“Feel my breath, Loki. Breathe like me. You can do this. In and out.” You spoke with such calmness, that he felt a growing sense of peace with each word you spoke. Loki’s chest fought against the tightness that ran rampant there as he tried desperately to copy your movements. In and out. His eyes were trained on yours, examining the different lengths of your eyelashes and the unique flecks of color that were embedded in your iris. The look of care and concern broke him.

“I am so sorry… I- I – I don’t know what came over me.” His hand still rested on your chest, above your heart, but he looked at his other hand like it was covered in blood. To him, it might as well have been, “I tried to fix you. To heal you. And it didn’t work! I couldn’t do anything because of these damn dampeners!”

Each word pressed out of Loki’s mouth earnestly, begging you to listen and each time Loki stole a glance at you, he saw that you were, “I felt weak. Powerless.” The confession slipped out before he even realized what he was saying.

“That is an awful feeling. I am so sorry, Loki.” The gentle touch of your thumb rubbing against the rough skin of his hand felt soothing, yet he turned his eyes away from you. You came to him without malice, without judgement. Each word and each action you took came with an aura of calm that he didn’t deserve. He deserved your wrath. Your hatred.

“You are too kind,” Loki whispered, still avoiding your penetrative stare, “Too good. I couldn’t let someone hurt you like that.”

“You wanted to protect me? That is kind of you, to look after me.” Loki closed his eyes at the sound of your soft, sweet voice, more tears spilling from his eyes. He still didn’t open them when he felt your free hand wiping the salty wetness from his face, but he found himself leaning greedily into your touch.

“I am hardly kind.” He scoffed at himself, the memories of his actions replaying in his mind, “I almost killed someone today. Like how I killed all the Midgardians in New York. I am a monster, YN!” Each word got louder as he spoke, desperately wanting you to see him as the vile, unworthy creature he is. But you weren’t looking at him like that. You never have.

You cupped his cheek, still keeping a tight hold on his hand, “You are not a monster, Loki. I may not know everything, but I know you were under the influence of a tyrant. You weren’t in control of yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“And you are going to tell me what I just did wasn’t my fault?” He snapped suddenly, his eyes shooting open and looking at you. Instantly, guilt washed over him, but maybe you would finally stop looking at him like that. Like he mattered.

“No, I am not going to say that Loki.” The pads of your thumb rubbed against the sharp edges of his cheek bones, “But I will say that I think this is a result of all the stress and trauma you have been through, but that is something we can work on. You have been through so much Loki, so many unfair and cruel things and I am so sorry this happened to you.”

Loki choked out a sob, his cold heart unable to process your kindness, but you continued, “I am here for you, Loki. Everything will be okay.” He felt you pull away, and he whined at the loss of contact, but then he saw your opened arms. A silent invitation. It was more than he needed to launch himself into your awaiting embrace.

Loki nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling the floral perfumed scent that seemed to follow you everywhere. The god clung to you like a frightened child, as if you would vanish if he let go too soon. Sobs continued to wrack his body and you tightened your hold on him, like you could transfer your calmness into his body. And after a while, it seemed to work.

His breathing slowed and his heart rate returned to normal, but he didn’t want to leave the warmth of your embrace and the comforting touches of your hand stroking his back. It felt safe. It felt like home.

“How are you feeling?” You whispered in his ear, making him shiver. You must have assumed he was cold because you wrapped your arms impossibly tighter around him.

“Better….” He paused, swallowing thickly and still not removing himself from his place within your arms, “What – what happened to the man?”

You moved your hand from his back to the base of his skull, lightly stroking his black tresses. Nothing about the movement felt appropriate as you would say. It felt more…intimate.

“I don’t think he will be pressing any charges. The connection to Stark helps, but I am afraid it may affect our ability to leave the tower. It’s hard to say.”

He hummed thoughtfully, trying to not let the shame and guilt of the situation send him into another downward spiral. Regrettably, Loki pulled himself from your arms and stood up. You joined him and watched as he examined himself in the bathroom mirror. The once proud prince took in his red puffy eyes and the unruliness of his hair. The weight of everything kept his arms at his side, too weak in his heart to care about his appearance.

“Here, let me.” Gently, you turned him to face you and you quickly got to work. With a tenderness that brough a fresh wave of emotion to his eyes, you brushed his hair away from his face with your hands. Your fingers combed through his locks and took out the tangles before tucking the strands behind his ears. Next, you grabbed a piece of paper toweling from the dispenser and still, very gingerly, dabbed the corners of his eyes and dried the remaining tears from his pale skin. Finally, you fixed the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt before brushing off specks of lint and dust his chest and shoulders.

“Good as new.” You beamed, your radiant smile breathing in the possibility that you saw something in him. Something worthy. “Are you ready?” You asked him, but he had a feeling that you would wait for hours in this public bathroom with him if he needed it.

Loki reached for your hands, but ultimately decided against it. Even with the intimacy and closeness he felt, there was still a wall between the two of you. A professional barrier that he knew you would not cross.

“What about, uh,” Loki started, shifting uneasily on his feet, “What about the food? The purchases you needed to make?”

“I arranged for it to be delivered. It’s okay, really.”

He nodded his head and extended his arm, “Then let us go home.”

The thought of the Tower being home brought a foul taste in his mouth, but if there was one place, he decided he hated more – it was the grocery store.

Wordlessly, he followed you out of the bathroom and out of the store. The entire time he kept his eyes trained on the floor and on your back. He couldn’t face the stares and judgement. Every once and awhile, you would look over your back at him to check on him. The little gesture wasn’t lost on Loki and each time he gave you a tight-lipped smile.

Soon, you were back in your car and pulling out of the grocery parking lot. The silence between the two of you lingeried like thick, heavy smoke. It was suffocating and Loki was thankful for your reprieve.

“You know what always cheers me up? Music!” You chirped, making Loki turn his gaze from the passing landscape to your smiling face. Turning the dial on the car, you turned up the music and started to bop along to the lighthearted song. Your fingers drummed along the steering wheel and at first, your mouth moved silently to the lyrics until finally the joy and melody of the song had you singing aloud with a smile on your face. Loki found himself watching you with a smile of his own, noting how you weren’t an amazing singer but every note that left your perfect lips sounded so sweet to his ears. The darkness from the day started to lift and even though he didn’t know the words, the god started to bob his head to the beat right along with you.

“Oh my god!” You cried out suddenly, jerking the steering wheel and maneuvering your car to just barely miss an oblivious driver that crossed into your lane. Your reflexes took over without a second thought and you reached over and slapped your hand across Loki’s chest in a vain attempt to keep a god safe. The tires screeched when you stomped on your brake as soon as you crossed into the safety of the shoulder on the road.

Loki could hear the hammering of your heart, and he was sure you could feel his beating just as wildly under the palm of your hand that still rested on his chest.

“Oh my god!” You repeated, adrenaline barreling through your veins, “Are you okay?!”

Loki’s hand automatically covered yours, his own reflexes taking over, and he noticed your body was shaking terribly, “Ye-Yes, I’m fine. Are you okay?” He squeezed your hand.

“Oh God,” You cried, totally ignoring Loki’s question, “We almost got into an accident! You could have been injured! I’ve been too tired. I wasn’t paying attention. Oh my God!” The thought that you too, harbored guilt made him frown.

“Darling, take a breath. In and out.” Loki parroted your words from earlier when he saw your erratic breathing. You shot him an incredulous look.

“What? I am supposed to be taking care of you! Not the other way around!”

Loki flashed a toothy grin, looking down at your small hand that was still splayed across his chest, “It looks like you did a fine enough job keeping me safe, My Lady.”

“Oh my God!” You ripped your hand from his body like it burned you, making Loki’s grin vanish. Immediately, you flung yourself against your steering wheel in embarrassment, your car letting out a soft beep when your forehead connected with the horn.

“It’s a habit! I am so sorry, Loki!” The skin of his chest still burned hot from your touch, but the god found your embarrassment endearing. She’s cute, he thought. His large palms patted your back, the act of comforting someone else still foreign to him. But he wanted to. He wanted to help you, more than anything.

“It’s quite alright. You saved my life!” He teased, defaulting to the safety of his humor, and knowing full well that if his body was going through the windshield, your tiny hand would not be stopping it, “I would have flown right through that glass if it weren’t for you! You are my hero, Lady Y/N, truly.”

You turned your head, letting your cheek rest against the cool leather of the steering wheel. For a moment, Loki questioned if his teasing was the right move as he stared into your narrowed eyes. But then you burst into a fit of giggles, finally leaning against the head rest of your seat.

“Yeah, there is no way I could have kept you from flying through that windshield, Loki” You wheezes in between laughs, “Thank goodness for seatbelts. But I guess it’s the thought that counts.”

Loki huffed out a breathless laugh right along with you, until the hilarity of the situation died down and gave way to a more serious tone, “It does count. Your first thought was to keep me safe…” He turned away from you for just a split second to gather his nerves before his eyes connected you with earnest intent, “I appreciate it.”

Then you surprised Loki, seemingly throwing away your professional demeanor for one sweet moment. You reached across the car and squeezed his hand.

“Anytime, Loki.”

#loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x you #loki #loki odinson #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki fic #loki laufeyson x reader #loki of asgard #loki fanfiction #loki angst #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki laufeyson x you #loki x reader angst #loki x reader fluff #loki odison x reader #loki x female!reader

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littlemisspascal · 2 years

Text

Mailroom Crush Part 8

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word Count: 2900+

Summary: A story about Reader who works in the mailroom of the embassy and her encounters with a handsome, brown-eyed DEA agent.

Warnings: Language, fluff, angst, harassment--Stechner needs a warning all for himself, mild violence (a punch), blood, inaccurate depiction of an embassy mailroom, this is only loosely based on canon of Season 3 so the timeline does not 100% match the show’s

Author Note: *awkwardly throws this out there after several months of nothingness* Thank you everyone for the lovely support! Hope you enjoy this 💝

PART 7

Javier’s absence is sorely felt from the moment you first enter the embassy the following morning. The hours seem to drag by at a snail’s pace, your lunch break a depressingly lonely affair filled with worrisome thoughts about what your boyfriend’s doing right now. How was his flight? Has he arrested Franklin yet? What if there was a fight between them? What if he’s been hurt?

You try to keep yourself busy to avoid overthinking things, offering to make Riley’s delivery rounds for her which she happily accepts. But even the usually bustling and loud atmosphere outside of the mailroom seems to have lost its energy, staff members quiet and on edge.

Recognizing your increasing anxiety, Riley sets up a radio on her desk to fill the silence. The music notes fill the space like water in a bathtub, slowly lulling you into a relaxed state as you organize a pile of letters. It’s almost as if a protective bubble has formed, and as long as you stay in it, everything’s alright. Javier will come home safe and sound. You’ll have another grilled cheese date together. Life will carry on like usual.

An hour later, Stechner strolls into the mailroom, the smarmy smirk on his face a needle putting a fatal end to your peaceful sanctuary. He walks right up to you, circling around the table and bracing his hip against the edge like he’s got all the free time in the world to bother you with more of his taunts.

You don’t think it’s a coincidence he’s chosen this precise moment to enter the mailroom when Riley’s stepped out to grab a snack from the vending machine. No witnesses means he’s free to speak whatever’s on his mind.

Stechner clears his throat, causing the hair on the back of your neck to prickle. He’s looking at the bundle of letters in your hands, mouth curled at the corner in what you would call a friendly smile on any other person in the universe. With him it only has your spine tensing up even more.

“You’re a hard worker, that’s a good character trait to have,” he says as casually as someone would comment on the weather. “You’re pretty, too, always a plus. It’s just a shame you display some shaky judgment in men.”

It takes all your self-control not to clench your hands. Think of the letters, you tell yourself, neatly arranging them in a pile. People would be mad to receive torn and crinkled mail.

“You and Peña, still going strong I’ve seen,” he continues, looking at his cuticles now. You can’t help noticing how short his nails are, cut down to the plate, no hint of white. Or, maybe not trimmed, but chewed off. Maybe the man isn’t as immune to stress as he likes to present himself. “I guess it’s true what they say, true love prevails no matter the opposition.”

Before you can bite your tongue, you find yourself responding, “Opposition? Is that what you call those pictures you sent me? Because I think a better term for them would be ‘misleading’. They didn’t exactly tell the whole story.”

“Maybe not,” Stechner agrees, a mocking note in his voice. “But around here nobody ever knows the whole story. Not even certain dashingly handsome DEA agents.”

Your eyebrows lift, annoyance buzzing under your skin. It’s growing steadily harder with every conversation with the CIA Station Chief to resist being dragged into the grudge match between him and Javier. You still don’t know your boyfriend’s reasons behind his obvious detestation, but at this point it’s not necessary for you to know them to join his side. You have your own laundry list fueling your disdain.

“Let me tell you something, honey, maybe it will make you hate me a little less or maybe not but,” he lifts a shoulder, not at all bothered which way you feel about him, “there’s always going to be new bad guys to fight. That’s what happens when there’s a war going on. And this particular battle with Cali, it needs soldiers willing to follow orders. Not heroes sticking their noses where they don’t belong and certainly not naive little mailroom clerks.”

Your vision seems to tunnel, teeth grinding against each other. The idea of stabbing this man with a letter opener abruptly comes to mind, but your limbs remain frozen stiff.

“I thought a little push might put you back in your lane, but no such luck,” he continues with a woeful sigh, and you feel something caged inside of you begin to rise to the surface. “I get it though. Really. Guy like Peña pays a nobody like you some attention, flirts a bit, takes you home…it would be hard for anyone to wanna close their legs. There’s not exactly a line of men waiting to fill the void. Although, if I’m being honest, I’d be tempted to try.”

Crunch.

It’s supremely satisfying to feel bone break beneath your knuckles and watch blood gush from his nostrils, staining the front of his suit jacket. Stechner lets out a pained grunt, grabbing at his face and staggering backwards a step. You relish the sight. He’s not untouchable. He’s just as fragile as any other man.

Riley walks into the mailroom then. All it takes is one glance at the scarlet fountain pouring out of Stechner’s broken nose to have her gasping aloud. “Oh my God!”

Her shout is a bucket of ice water on your anger. Dread swells in your chest, clawing at your insides, and you’re suddenly aware of how much your trembling hand is throbbing.

Oh fuck what have you done.

Several staff members have appeared in the doorway now, drawn by Riley’s distress. Their gazes dart between you and Stechner, putting the pieces together and murmuring amongst themselves.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Stechner’s saying to a worried Riley who’s offering him a box of tissues. “Just a difference of opinions.”

It doesn’t matter what filth he’d said to you, that he’s smiling right now through his bloody teeth. At the end of the day, you’re a lowly mail clerk and he’s the CIA Station Chief. This was a battle you were destined to lose.

Naturally, you expect to be fired for your transgressions. You punched an extremely important and respected government official, it only made sense to cut all ties with you immediately.

You walk into Ambassador Crosby’s office thirty minutes later anticipating being told to pack your things and catch the first flight back home.

What you don’t anticipate, however, is being told you’re suspended for two weeks without pay. That the only reason you’re not walking out of there jobless is because Stechner apparently was gracious enough not to have hard feelings and insisted you stay, that the mailroom–no, the whole embassy in fact—benefited from your hard work and dedication to your tasks.

Ambassador Crosby says you should be grateful to be sticking around. But when you leave that’s the farthest emotion on the spectrum you feel.

You have no idea what Stechner’s weird mind game is, and yet you have the sinking feeling you played along exactly as he wanted you to.

Perhaps the only benefit of being suspended from work is now you have an abundant amount of free time to catch up on your chores. The pile of laundry has been overflowing for a good week or two, not to mention the dust bunnies multiplying underneath your couch.

Riley calls in the afternoon, probably on her lunch break given the amount of noise in the background. She balances the thin, blurry line between a concerned friend and a nosy coworker hungry for a piece of what she calls the most exciting gossip to ever spread through the embassy. You’ve gone from an unknown entity to a public spectacle overnight, everyone curious to know what made you snap.

You collapse on your bed after she tells you that, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how the hell is this your life. It’s definitely not anything close to what you thought it would resemble after losing that dumb bet with your mother. Maybe handling mail all day isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but it’s safe, comfortable. Not a forever kind of thing, there’s still so much you want to do and see, but for right now it’s good.

Wonderful, actually, because without this job, without the mailroom that has become your second home, you never would have met Javier. Never would have known the sound of his laughter, how his jaw clenches when he’s frustrated, what he looks like with swollen lips and hair tousled by your fingers and half-lidded eyes dark with arousal. Your heart pangs painfully in your chest, missing him dearly.

He’s brought so much warmth into your life, so much of that precious unspoken feeling you think–no, you know you want to tell him, to whisper it against his lips, his skin. There’s no denying it anymore, no doubts or insecurities, just absolute certainty your heart belongs to him.

I love you, Javi darling. More than I’ve ever loved anyone else before.

It’s almost midnight and you can’t shut your brain off long enough to sleep. Your eyes burn with exhaustion, pajama-clad body sore after a full day of vacuuming and scrubbing and dusting, splayed out on your mattress. And yet, your thoughts are stubbornly wide awake, ricocheting off your skull like a dozen bouncy balls.

They’re not even coherent thoughts. More like…sensations. A silent alarm. An invisible clock counting down seconds. Anticipation of something about to happen, but what that ‘something’ is, whether it’s good or bad, you have no idea.

You’re contemplating a late-night snack, maybe even a movie, when there’s a knock at your front door echoing throughout the apartment.

You lift your head from your pillow, wondering if you’re so tired you’re hallucinating sounds now, if it’s–

Another knock, harder this time. A fist striking the wood without concern for bruises.

Throwing off the covers, you make the short trek across the apartment, footsteps cautious as you approach the door to peer out the peephole. There’s a second of disbelief that hits you because that’s–that’s Javier on the other side. Javier who’s supposed to be on a manhunt in another country. Javier who you’ve achingly missed these last two days. Your Javier who you love.

You can’t unlock the door fast enough, fingers trembling and breaths coming out in short pants. Wrenching it open, you all but throw yourself at the man, arms winding around his neck.

“You’re back,” you say needlessly, voice muffled against his throat where your face is buried. He returns the embrace just as tightly, hands roaming over your back and touching your hair, like he’s refamiliarizing himself with your body.

“Tesoro,” he murmurs, lips pressing against your temple, and the nickname comes out as a shuddered breath, thick with restrained emotions. Your heart skips a nervous beat, those antsy sensations flaring up beneath your skin.

Something’s wrong.

“Javi?” you ask, pulling back for a better look at his face. He won’t meet your eyes, jaw set so hard you worry he’ll hurt himself. It’s not because of anger though. You’ve seen him mad before, seen him with fire in his eyes and a snarl on his lips, and this isn’t that. This is…this is something worse.

This is a man who’s on the cusp of falling apart, holding on by his own stubborn willpower.

“I’m sorry for coming so late.” He swallows, throat bobbing, and something inside of you aches. “I just…I had to see you.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” you tell him, tugging on his hand. “Please, come on in.”

He follows without protest, through the door and past the couch, down the hall to your bedroom. With only the dim light of the lamp on your nightstand, everything’s softer around the edges, troubles not quite so heavy. You sit on the edge of the bed, Javier coming to stand in-between your legs, looming yet unthreatening, almost like he’s shielding you from the world. You grab onto his hand, find yourself tracing the creases and calluses. He’s lost one of his nails, the tender skin ugly and black, and you think about what that means. If it means anything at all.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask, keeping your voice purposefully low, still staring at his hand. The fingers curl reflexively, a tremble he can’t quite repress.

“Oh, tesoro,” his answer seems to rumble out of the darkness, washing over you like icy rain, “I don’t even know where to start.”

You ignore the shiver of unease running down your backside, pulling instead at his arms and sleeves until he’s lying down on the bed beside you, faces scant inches apart, noses almost brushing. For the first time, you detect the faint scent of alcohol on Javier’s breath, brown eyes shining even in the dimness.

“Wherever you want,” you finally say, lacing your fingers with his. “I’ll catch up.”

And for a second time, Javier indulges your request to open up. Words tumble out of his mouth and are immediately soaked up by your ears. You say nothing, only listening, only gripping his hand.

Franklin Jurado has been arrested. His wife though, beautiful and blonde Christina, has been snatched away in the night by the very same cartel her husband works for. Her whereabouts? Currently unknown. She might not even still be alive. And without her by his side, Franklin refuses to cooperate. Javier’s case against the Cali Cartel has now become even twice as complicated. Has the risk of falling apart entirely if he doesn’t come up with a solution fast.

In the morning light, you think these bombshells he’s dropping will hit harder than they do now as the clock displays 2am. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep which keeps your emotions calm, like you’re floating outside of your own body; or maybe it’s his nearness, that greedy internal part of you too pleased to have him here to care about anything or anyone else.

It’s hard to imagine such horrors exist outside the walls of your apartment when the best thing that’s ever happened to you is nestled beside you in bed.

But you see the look in his eyes, that scorching flame of determination he always has when talking about justice and bringing down the cartel, and it’s still there now, flickering in the midnight hours despite the crushing pain of disappointment and defeat. And you know that in the morning light he’ll be out there again, chasing after those unimaginable horrors, because Stechner, the fucking asshole, was right: Javier’s a hero.

And you—

Impossibly, you find yourself loving him even more.

Javier’s the first to fall asleep, nudging his forehead against yours, arm slung over your waist. He looks younger while he dreams, endearing in the way he curls his shoulders inward, making himself smaller in order to better fit in the curve of your own body.

Your nose bumps against his, and it’s strange how the feeling of his exhaled breath against your mouth actually makes something loosen inside of you. A knot come undone. You lay a gentle hand on the side of his cheek, thumb ghosting along the smooth skin beneath his closed eye. It’s a gesture of affection and reassurance.

A gesture that says: Sleep, my love. Tonight you’re safe with me.

You wake up to a line of heat molded against your backside, lips pressing a trail of kisses along your shoulder, neck, ear, cheek. Each spot of contact makes your heart perform funny little flips every time. God, you’re so gone for this man. Your mouth curls into a smile even as your eyes remain closed, and you hear Javier’s quiet hum when he realizes you’re awake.

“I’m sorry tesoro,” he says lowly, not sounding very apologetic at all, “I couldn’t resist.”

You snort, imagining your bedhead and the pillow creases on your face are so utterly attractive. “I don’t mind,” you murmur, tilting your head to give Javier’s lips better access to your neck. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you closer against his body and burying his face in the space, mustache tickling the tender skin.

You really don’t mind. In fact, you’d love it if every morning began this way.

With one hand still beneath your pillow, you move the other to run your fingers through his hair only to wince at the protesting throb from your knuckles. It’s been days now since you broke Stechner's nose, but the pain of the punch still lingers as an ugly bruise. You make a mental note to ice it later.

Javier shifts, lifting his head from your neck despite your disappointed noise, and you know the second he sees your injured hand because his whole body goes tense. In the next beat he’s sitting up, cradling your hand in both of his with the same gentleness one might handle a baby bird that’s fallen out of a tree.

You sit up too, legs folding underneath your rear, eyes flicking nervously between his eerily blank expression and your bruised knuckles. The warmth of the morning has all but evaporated, a cold chill piercing your chest that has your lungs constricting.

“Tesoro,” he says finally, bland and stoic and perhaps the closest you’ve ever been to Agent Peña.

“It’s fine,” you say, too quickly, and your teeth immediately sink into your bottom lip. This is not how you wanted this morning to go.

“Tesoro,” he acts as if your mouth never opened, gaze slowly rising to connect with yours, dark and inscrutable, “what happened while I was gone?”

#javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fic #narcos fanfiction #my fic #My writing #pedrostories #mailroom crush

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wipverse · 1 year

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random facts edition #2

what is their relationship like?

Star Sanses Edition

Ink+Dream

Ink and Dream met shortly after Dream is freed from his stone-y prison. They're allies first, united in their shared goal to protect the multiverse, and over time they become friends.

While they love each other, their relationship is not perfect, and there are still secrets and sore spots they struggle with.

Dream feels like Ink wouldn't understand the more somber, self-destructive angst-y parts of himself, choosing to hide them. While deep down he knows Ink is not the type to judge him for it, he can't make himself share his struggles after a lifetime of keeping up the Forever Steadfast and True Guardian of Positivity mask.

His escapes from obligation come in the form on cigarettes, people who don't know(or care) who he is and indulging in the only piece of his real brother he has left: his books(or, more accurately, what Dream remembers him reading)

Zero's apparent betrayal is another heavy hit on his conscience, and following it he throws himself into helping Core with building the Omega timeline and finding quicker ways to intercept Nightmare and Error's attacks.

Ink feels that his job, besides being the Protector of the Multiverse, is being the comic relief, along with downplaying his genuine fear at being so forgetful at times as just being quirky and somewhat of a klutz.

His coping mechanisms include, besides clowning himself, painting his favorite things, moments and people, helping Core build what needs to be built for the Omega Timeline(most often to his own detriment) and seeking out adrenaline inducing experiences(strong emotional reactions help vivid memories take root).

He struggles a lot with his memory, and how awful forgetting makes him feel, attempting to hide his emotions from Dream by only drinking positive paints, unless the situation calls for him not to, but it ultimately doesn't help his anxiety.

Ink+Blue

Ink meets Blue while fighting (alongside Dream) against Nightmare, Killer and Dust. Blue insists on defending his home and takes on Dust, freeing Ink from the barrage of attacks. Ink, Dream and Blue win the battle, and Blue expresses his desire to be part of their team and save others.

Ink accepts Blue into the team readily, but Dream is far more reticent to. Ink helps Blue argue his case to the Guardian, and he relents at last.

Ink and Blue's friendship is immediate, and Ink shows his new friend the Center just a few weeks later(which Dream disapproves of).

Blue is able to see underneath the layer of masks Ink wears and help him open up, and in turn the Protector offers Blue support in his journey to emancipate from his limited role in his au and expand his magic ability to include multiversal travel

Blue is the one to come up with the name "Star Sanses", inspired from an au occupant they saved, claiming that the group was " a little light in all the darkness surrounding us".

Dream+Blue

When Blue first asked to join him and Ink, Dream almost said yes on instinct. He'd been so tired, he hadn't slept the night before and he'd known they needed a new teammate for some time.

But this was a mortal. Moreover, a mortal from a perfectly whole au. He had everything to lose and nothing to gain. He couldn't let the pressure build on the shoulders of someone whose light didn't NEED to be dimmed.

Eventually, he relented. It's a choice he regrets every time Blue gets hurt.

But he does like Blue. He has a vibe to him, as if he just Knows things... and he does.

A few months into being proper friends, Blue manages to get the Guardian talking about it. The pressure, the expectations... the ways he forgets about it.

Blue reciprocates. He tells Dream about his childhood, taking care of Papyrus alone, feeling the weight of the world and faking a smile until it didn't have to feel fake anymore.

They often have "team dates", where they go lay on the soft grass of the Center while playing board games, or, after particularly hard days, just sit in silence, cuddled up under the tree.

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 1 year

Text

hermann gottlieb: on lunar exploration & lying to lab partners

Newton still has... moments. Fortunately, Hermann has become something of an expert.

Drafted this at work yesterday while my students did some freewriting. Five word prompt, and this AU came to life almost instantly. 1.539 words.

"I think I hate this."

"I know this is asking for the impossible, but could you please shut up?"

"No; I definitely hate this," Newt decided, plowing ahead as if completely unaware of Hermann speaking. The latter silently seethed, once more damning Fate and his father and every other confounded thing that had led to him being stuck here with this... menace.

Hermann turned from the observation screen with a scathing remark at the ready, but felt it deteriorate immediately upon seeing the distressing state of his partner.

Newton had situated himself on the floor, picking listlessly at some loose grout along the baseboard. Hermann frowned at the motion- the grout in question had developed a disturbingly bright, violet patina; as their lab and quarters were from the original base, it was likely a few decades old already.

And Newton, their alleged “expert” on microbes and fungi, was poking his bare fingers into it.

Wonderful.

The irritation was easily dismissed however, replaced by a flicker of concern as Hermann observed the repetitive action, realizing that this wasn't Newton's usual restlessness.

The pattern was too familiar after spending so long working next to the man- the way Newton had pulled his lower lip between his teeth, the subtle way he had shoved his entire body into as small a position as possible, right arm curved protectively around the folded legs, chin was only millimeters away from resting on his knees.

Stars help him, but he had seen this far too many times before.

"Newton, have you taken-"

"I mean, I know we're not in that much danger out here, I know that, but every time someone goes out there I get so caught up worrying about what might happen to them or what might come back with them or- It's- It's stupid; I’m being stupid, but it's like I can't stop and-"

His leg would give him hell for this later, but at the moment, he couldn't care less. Hermann carefully took a seat on Newton's right, before promptly wrapping his left arm about the younger's shoulders and hauling him into something resembling an embrace.

Newton stuttered out the beginnings a protest, but it fell away just as quickly, and he relaxed slightly. With a mild sense of victory, Hermann allowed himself a small smile, thumb tracing light fractals onto Newton's upper arm, the ridges in his skin snagging slightly on the Mylar of Newton's uniform.

"I must look pretty bad right now, huh." It was an only observation, a passing rhetorical, but Hermann couldn't help but hum an assent anyway, Newton letting out a small sound of frustration.

"I should be better than this by now. Hell I- I'm on the actual Moon! How is my anxiety still this bad?"

Hermann took a moment to consider how he should answer- _if _he should answer. But at Newton's subtle behest… Well, something was expected.

He was humbled- Newton trusting that Hermann could offer him a solution, that he could read the man better than Newton himself and offer some quantifiable, justifiable conclusion which could finally set his mind at ease.

But the human mind wasn't so simple as that; he knew firsthand how damnably un-simple it was.

Before one could even be considered for being stationed at Lunar Outpost GQ-654, they were required to take part in strenuous mental and physical examinations (with some notable exemptions), and well-

While he, in his own humble opinion, did an admirable job of concealing it, Hermann's mind was also filled with- as Newton had once phrased so eloquently- a “big ol' bag of cats.”

Another smile, this one unbidden, as he recalled that evening, watching Newton fly about the lab in his excitement, rambling (only partly-coherent) about the new water samples collected by Commander Mori's team on their latest mission. Captain Beckett had been visiting and surveying with fond amusement as Newton carried on, his tirade having shifted to something minutely conversational, dragging Raleigh into a debate about- A children’s game?

Oh, it was an age ago. Hermann couldn't recall every detail, but the core sensations of the memory remained: warmth, affection, familiarity.

And familiarity- perhaps acknowledgement?- was what Newton needed most.

"I don't much care for the dark side, myself."

He felt Newton stiffen slightly; had it been too long since he'd spoken last?

No... No. the coordinates for Mako's team showed that it had only been a few moments, barely any time having passed at all since he had taken a seat on the floor.

Newton was quiet, frame still coiled with tension that was edging towards contagious, Hermann's own fears starting to-

"Somehow I always seem to forget you're just as much a mess as I am."

Hermann couldn't repress a sardonic huff of laughter at that, letting his head fall back to rest against the cold wall, eyes fluttering shut as he sang softly. "'Misery... Misery loves company.'" He paused, resumed in his normal tone, almost conversationally. "Or so they say."

Newton shifted, relaxing and stretching out his left leg, letting out a pained noise as his knee cracked. Hermann winced in sympathy; their pending approach towards middle age was agreeing with neither of them.

After a few short breaths, he could hear a tease in Newton's voice. "Never woulda pegged you for an Anthrax fan."

"I'm not," Hermann lied easily. "But when you insist on playing that incessant caterwauling at all hours-"

"Hey-"

"-is it so hard to believe I would find at least one or two things that are somewhat tolerable?"

Newton's stunned silence- no matter how brief it would likely be- was a proverbial point to Hermann. He felt his smile grow, and could practically envision the consternation eclipsing the other's face.

"Herms..."

Oh. Oh dear, no. That wasn't the correct tone.

Alarmed, Hermann straightened, eyes wide as he tried to assess the condition of his crewmate. "Newton?"

Bright, hazel eyes were angled upwards to meet his own, and there was-

Oh, bugger him to hell.

-that damned smirk.

"You just admitted you like my music."

"I admitted to no such thing. I simply suggested-"

"Lie all you want, dude. I know now," Newton elongated and deepened his words, a practiced attempt at mimicking a villain from some cheesy B-rated sci-fi film. Hermann was surprised that Newton didn't punctuate his words with a-

"Mu-wha-ha-ha-ha."

-There it was.

"You're a bloody juvenile."

"Shut up; you love it," Newton chirped, voice finally peeling in its normal register. A little humiliation on his own end perhaps, but it was worth it to see Newton bouncing- quite literally- back on his feet, bright smile in place, holding out a hand to help Hermann stand.

"In small increments, Newton. Small increments," Hermann found himself acquiescing as he took the proffered hand, wincing as he avoided placing too much weight on his right leg.

He hoped Newton hadn't-

"You good?"

-Oh of course he had noticed.

Hermann waved off Newton's concern, awkwardly ambling back towards his work station. The screen shifted to follow him, intuitively adjusting for the most convenient angle of its intended viewers. "I'll drop by Medical for more painkillers after J43-G3R is back in the docking bay."

As much as it ached, Hermann was still in charge of monitoring his Robotics' programming whenever one of the teams was out. If there were any faults or coding errors, then he needed to-

"I'll get 'em for you, dude."

Newton's voice cut off his train of thought, eyes dragging away from the observation screen. "Pardon?"

The other man offered a small shrug. "You asked me earlier about my meds, and I really did forget this morning. Figured I'll save you the wait and grab yours while I'm there."

Fondness settled like a small weight in his chest, and he internally sighed in relief. "Thank you, Newton. I would be most grateful."

Newton offered him double finger-guns as he shuffled backwards out the door. "Anytime, my guy."

Hermann started to turn back to his computer, the long lists of data that he would be sorting through come tomorrow, before he heard familiar footsteps once again.

"Hey Herms?"

Hermann didn't look away from his screen, only slightly tilting his head in Newton's direction. "Mm?"

"Thanks for earlier. I don't say it a lot, but I don't know how I'd get by without ya."

Hermann felt his entire body stutter at the spontaneous introduction of sentimentality; it was one thing to offer a loved one a physical gesture of comfort, but words-

Newton was watching him with that fond, foolish look he knew well now. Oh, it had dimmed for a time, somewhere between their first attempt at friendship and becoming begrudging research partners, but it had long since become so synonymous with all things Hermann now considered _Newton _that he couldn't help but offer a reflexive smile back.

"Get out of here, you blasted menace," he ordered, words still holding a tad too much fondness.

With a backwards shuffle and a mocking salute, Newton's expression shifted into a mischievous grin, the man almost side-swiping the doorway as he finally departed.

Hermann rolled his eyes before turning back to his work, lightly humming along to a song he most definitely wasn't a fan of.

#pacific rim #newt geiszler #newton geiszler #dr. geiszler #hermann gottlieb #dr. gottlieb #mako mori #raleigh beckett #short story #ficlet #newmann #could be read as platonic or romantic and i'm happily somewhere in the middle #au #alternate universe #lunar exploration #they are Friends! and i stand by this #my writing #speaking from experience you don't share a work space with someone who blasts music all the time without picking up a couple things you lik #my college roommate got me into edm and trap and i got her into punk rock; it balances~

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fattybattysblog · 2 years

Text

Supervision

This is a one shot that I wrote as a request for my friend. Also fairly short. OFF the game, MxM, 2500 words

Summary:

The Elsen managing the cowsheds asks the Batter for help and decides the Batter is now his responsibility. Does "threatening to murder one's bad boss" count as flirting?

It was the day of inspection and Eli was panicking. Nothing was ready, nobody was meeting their quotas, and to top it all off there were ghosts in the cowshed. Of all days, today was the day ghosts infested the cowshed. He had put in requests to get them taken care of when they arrived like a good little worker, but his requests were ignored. They were always ignored. He began to feel like all requests in Zone 1 were ignored.

Eli hurried to the tram earlier than he would any other morning. It was full of Elsen quietly tucked into seats and hanging onto the poles while they made their way to work. He normally got out a little later when the tram was more empty and he had space to sit down, but he needed to get to Damien as soon as possible to prepare for the inspector’s arrival. He hung onto the pole in the tram and tried to stabilize himself as it sped on the rails to the next stop. He and many others jostled and bumped each other until the tram finally came to a stop.

A flood of Elsen spilled out and released Eli from the tram. They flowed to the several cowsheds to get to work without another moment lost. That eased some of Eli’s nerves. At least if they got right into the work they could cobble together enough metal to scratch the minimum. He went to the main office to grab his clipboard before making his rounds of Damien. Checking in on every cowshed, approving the batches of metal, making sure things moved relatively smoothly. It was a breath of fresh air. Nothing going crazy. No one Burnt.

Eli then faced the infested cowshed. He frowned and felt the sweat beginning to bead on his brow. He wasn’t sure how he was going to take care of the ghosts before the inspector showed up. There was no way he could exterminate them himself. He wasn’t a fighter. The mere anxiety of this issue was starting to make him weak in the knees and twist his stomach in knots. He simply stared at the shed for a while before hurrying back to the main office.

He had no idea what he was going to do. His poor stomach churned and hurt. He had to sit down just so it would hurt a little less.

Oh bugger… what could he possibly do.

Eli was about to step into the office when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone trudging through the smoke mine access nearby. He paused for a moment, confused. They were closed down recently due to specter activity. Ghosts don’t make noise when they walk around so that had to be a person. Eli approached the mine entrance nervously and squeaked in fear when someone popped out.

He carried a bat in one hand and dusted his pants off with the other. Stone faced and unafraid, he squinted at the light for just a moment before setting his sight on Eli, making him flinch. He approached with purpose, hoisting the bat onto his shoulder. Eli gulped and staggered back.

“Uh… W-who are you?” Eli squeaked.

“I’m the Batter.” He answered simply and offered no extra information. Straightforward, at least. Eli cleared his throat and adjusted his tie.

“What were you doing in the mines? I thought they were closed off?”

“There are ghosts in there. I am purifying them.”

Eli blinked. He wanted to question that, but the bat he carried kinda gave Eli the answer. It was covered in the semi-translucent goo of defeated specters. It was unnerving, but it gave Eli a brilliant idea.

“Oh… Oh! Wait, would you purify the cowshed?” Eli chimed, gesturing to the infested one nearby. Batter glanced at it but seemed unwilling to change his course.

“I have to purify the mines first.”

“Wh--- but…” Eli wilted a little, but he had too little time to let him go. He really needed the help, “well, the cowshed isn’t that big. There are only a couple specters in there and I really need it done before the inspector gets here.”

The Batter grimaced and Eli tucked his clipboard under one arm to clasp his hands together.

“P-please? It will take no time at all.”

“Okay.” He seemed not to care one way or the other, persuaded enough by Eli’s pleas to take a look at the cowshed. Eli silently cheered and showed Batter to the infested area, leaving him to do his work and resting against the shed wall to breath relief. A massive weight was taken off of his shoulders. Those few moments of relief, the couple light breaths that he hadn’t felt in so long were amazing.

Eli wanted to live in this moment forever.

Alas, he couldn’t. While Batter took care of the spectors, Eli had to prepare to greet the inspector when he arrived. That dropped sandbags back onto his shoulders that he simply shrugged into place and worked with. The inspector wasn’t set to arrive for another hour, which gave the Batter time to clear out the shed before he got there. Eli would just have to greet him and show him the other cowsheds first.

A tram arrived after about 35 minutes. No one had thought anything of it until the doors opened and out came the inspector. Dedan. A tall man with a maw of horribly gigantic teeth and small, burning, angry eyes.

Eli’s heart sank through the floor. He glanced back at the cowshed and saw no sign of the Batter. If Eli let a man die in there it would mean an even worse evaluation and, possibly, demotion. Eli was starting to feel sick again.

“Well? Are you going to do your job or just stand there?” Dedan huffed. Eli flinched and scrambled to get his bearings, leading Dedan through Damien in a counterclockwise circle. That grated on Dedan and he let Eli know it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? This is unacceptable.” He growled.

“W-what--- uh… what do you mean?” Eli stammered, trying not to call attention to the difference.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Never once has the inspection worked like this. What makes you think you can do this?” Dedan’s teeth gnashed and he turned face to go the “correct way” around Damien, setting his sights immediately on the infested shed. Eli panicked and ran in front of Dedan.

“There’s ghosts in that shed!” He shouted, stopping Dedan in his tracks and getting the dirtiest glare.

“And why wasn’t I informed?”

“Well… we sent in the requests like we were supposed to and you never-”

“DO YOU THINK BLAMING ME WILL FIX IT?!”

“No! No, no, but it wasn’t--- T-that doesn’t matter now because it’s getting taken care of! The Batter showed up and he’s purifying the cowshed, he should be done soon.” Eli explained, hoping that would appease the very angry man. It didn’t seem to help. In fact, Dedan seemed to be even angrier. If that was even possible. He stormed past Eli to the shed. Eli ran after him and prayed that this wouldn’t somehow kill him.

“How long has he been in there?” Dedan demanded. Eli checked his watch and cleared his throat, trying to stay calm and failing. The sweat was pouring down his face and getting into his eyes, making it hard to read his watch.

“O-only half an hour.”

“What makes you think he can take care of the ghosts?”

“He was killing the ones in the mine an-”

“This man is making a fool of you. Are you fucking dense? No one can kill the ghosts but the Queen and her officers. Is he the Queen?”

“N-n-no…”

“Is he an officer?”

“Not that I kn-”

“You’re an idiot. An absolute imbecile. I could have taken care of the ghosts.”

“Then wh-”

“Because you don’t deserve it. Take care of your own problems,” Dedan huffed heavily and turned to leave, finding Eli in the way and refusing to change his course. He glared down at the little Elsen and tightened his jaw. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

Eli tripped over himself to get out of the way, watching after Dedan as he stomped away back to the tram and home to Alma. Eli heaved a massive sigh, pulling on his tie and wiping all the sweat off his head. He felt like he was going to collapse.

“Who was that?”

Eli nearly fainted out of fear. He snapped his head towards the voice beside him and sighed when he saw Batter. Batter was intimidating, but at least he didn’t demand perfection out of Eli. It was much more casual talking to him and that felt much nicer.

“Oh… That was the inspector.” Eli murmured.

“You mean specter?” Batter asked in his unnerving monotone. Eli did a double take and knit his brows tightly.

“What? No,” he shook his head, “Dedan can’t be a specter, the Queen would never have appointed him her officer if he was.”

“But he’s evil.”

“Well… I don’t know if I’d call him evil.” Eli muttered a little under his breath.

“I must purify him.” Batter stated, dropping his bat into his hand with a dull, metallic thud. Eli stared at him. Was this man really considering murder right now? He wasn’t sure what to make of that. He looked down at his feet.

Was Batter… flirting with him?

~~~

Eli couldn’t let the Batter leave without supervision. His mention of purifying people was very uncomfortable and Eli couldn’t let that happen. He would feel responsible. So he followed close behind the Batter as he worked his way through the mines. He defeated the specters without second thoughts. His bat swung swift, the ectoplasm bursting on impact and coating the walls and weapon.

There was a moment of calm between all the ghost bashing wherein Batter seemed to be waiting for more to show up. When nothing more appeared, he turned to leave. Eli assumed that meant the mines were purified.

“Why are you following me?” Batter asked as he stepped past Eli and dragged the bat behind him.

“I… Well…” Eli tapped his fingers together, “I need to make sure you don’t hurt people.”

“I won’t hurt people. I only purify specters.” Batter said simply.

“You say that, but you did threaten Dedan.”

“He is evil. He must be purified.”

Eli whined and pocketed his hands, bunching his shoulders.He didn’t think he’d be able to convince the Batter otherwise. That and… well he was a very dangerous man. He can kill ghosts. Even if he couldn’t kill ghosts, a bat can absolutely kill people. All it takes is a moment of anger to turn that on a living person. Batter appeared to be level headed enough to not do that, but he was a stranger with an unknown temper. Eli just wanted to do his job, but there wouldn’t be a job to do if something happened to the inspector.

As Batter continued on, Eli nervously followed behind him, looking at his feet. He wondered why the Batter was so intent on hurting Dedan. It made sense to be dedicated to one’s work, that was something Eli knew. He was very dedicated to his work. That might be his downfall, though. If he weren’t dedicated, he would still be in Damien letting whatever might happen happen.

Eli was worried about the Batter as much as he was worried about Dedan. He also didn't know how to respond to the flirting earlier if that even was flirting. Eli hadn't really been flirted with before so he wasn't sure how to do it back or anything.

Another encounter with some ghosts came and went with the splatter of ectoplasm on the mine walls. He was dangerous and stoic and he rarely spoke. Batter didn't appear too attached to anything but his mission. Maybe Eli was mistaken and Batter was simply too adamant about violence. Anything was possible.

“U-uhm… do you ever take a break?” Eli asked. Batter looked over his shoulder and paused. He curled his mouth from one side to the next as he thought about it.

“No.” He answered finally. Eli nodded and walked ahead of Batter, gesturing for him to follow. Batter shrugged and followed him to one of the far walls of the mine. It appeared to be a dead end, but Eli pulled on one of the torches and a door opened in the wall. The Batter made a small noise of amusement which was the most emotion he had shown the entire time they walked together. It made Eli’s heart soar to get that much out of him.

Inside this secret room was a break room for the miners. Luckily, it was empty at this moment and left just for them. Eli went to the vending machine and got some refreshments for them both as Batter took a seat at one of the tables. He was surprised how much his legs and arms ached from his nonstop ghost busting. He rolled his neck and stretched his arms, making many joints pop.

Eli dropped into the seat next to him and handed him a bag of snacks and a canned drink. Batter muttered a thanks and looked at them funny before trying them out.

“S-so… you are pretty good at killing ghosts.” Eli said, nervously fiddling with the tab on his can. His cheeks were dusted in blush as he tried his hand at returning Batter’s interest. Batter didn’t look at him, instead reading the posters on the walls.

“Thanks.”

“D-do, uh… do you visit Zone 1 often?” He asked, tugging on his shirt collar.

“This is my first time visiting.”

“Ah! Then I should show you around, right?” Eli grew excited to have a task he could accomplish. Batter shook his head and rested his bat on the table beside theirs. A little company might be nice, but Eli couldn’t protect himself which made it less ideal. Batter wouldn’t let Eli get hurt trying to keep up with him.

“That’s not necessary.” He said. He seemed unaware that those thoughts didn’t come across in his answer. Eli wilted and looked aside, fidgeting with his tie.

“N-never mind then…”

The Batter noticed that his answer made Eli a little upset. He glanced away and cleared his throat. He tried to get the thought across a little better, but he needed to think of what to say.

“I could stick around a little longer.” He muttered. Words weren’t his forte.

“That would be really nice.” Eli smiled, brightening. Batter liked it when Eli was so happy. He wasn’t sure why though. Maybe he would figure out why making this Elsen so happy made him feel good or why having him around was something he enjoyed, but he did. So a little longer in Zone 1 wasn’t a big deal. And Eli could keep Dedan alive for a bit too. Not that he really cared. Spending time with Batter was too nice to care what happened afterwards.

#OFF game #off mortis ghost #mxm #battyfics #batter x elsen #the batter #off elsen #short story #oneshot #fanfic

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lotus-flowerz · 3 years

Note

hello hello I love your writings so far sobs I couldn't help but do an ask myself aa (it's my first ask ever help hwkajd) could I request perhaps gn reader that flinched away from the boys by reflex? (preferably with Diluc, Kaeya and Kazuha but you can add or remove someone if you want to!) like they were hanging out and reader was lost in thoughts and suddenly when they see in the corner of their eyes how the boys raise their arm for smth reader quickly raises their arms above their own head to protect it- how would they react and how would they comfort the reader? I hope it's not too much or if you're uncomfortable with it you can ignore it if you want to whaaaa

AHHH TY IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY WRITING! i actually do this too, some of my old friends would make fun of me for it, so i hope that my writing here is accurate >.<

i also added beidou in here, hope you don't mind, i just had to since she's my favorite character <3

TW!! FLINCHING, ANXIETY, PAST TRAUMA, MENTION OF DEATH AND INJURIES

SLIGHT INAZUMA ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS

KAEYA BACKSTORY SPOILERS

The cherry blossoms fell silently from the trees under which you and Kazuha were sitting. Those had remained unchanged since you and Kazuha were children. The beauty of the pink blossoms falling towards the green earth without a care.

It had remained the same through the vision hunt decree, through the war, through watching Tomo get killed by the shogun, through both of you getting injured during said fight. Kazuha's hand was burnt from Tomo's vision, and your body had a large scar running from your knee to the side of your neck from a stray bolt of lighting from Tomo's divine punishment. If not for Kazuha's determination to not lose another friend and Beidou and her crew caring for you, you would be dead.

These days, although you and Kazuha both carried the same trauma, he seemed to be doing leaps and bounds better than you were. Your eyes flitted to Kazuha, who was writing poetry. The only sound that could be heard was his pen gliding across the paper, filling it with his eloquent words that always seemed to flow so smoothly.

You were deep in thought, when out of the corner of your eye you spotted something coming towards your face. Instinctively, your hands flew out to shield yourself, leaving a very confused Kazuha, who was only scratching his head, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

"Dove.. did you think I was going to hurt you?"

You slowly lowered your arms, guilt washing over you.

"No! It's just- sometimes, when movements are too sudden.. I.. you know, I try to protect myself because uh.."

His eyes drifted to your scar, then looked up at your face, only to find it tilted to the ground. He put a finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to meet his, then kissing your forehead.

One hand snaked around your waist while the other traced lightly over your scar, sending shivers down your spine. You wrapped your arms around him as well, putting a little of your weight onto him.

He kissed your lips, squeezing you tight against him.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again. I promise."

"Kazuha, it's not-"

"I know it's not my fault. And I know I couldn't have prevented it. But I promise you, you're safe now."

He brought his hand up to cradle the back of your head as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you." you said, squeezing him a little tighter.

"No need to thank me. I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Kazuha."

You had been a part of Beidou's crew for just over a year now, after meeting her in the wharf of Liyue harbor after finally finding the courage to leave your abusive and toxic partner. You didn't have a place to stay and you were clearly distraught, so when she asked if you were okay and you immediately began to cry, she offered you to come on her ship. You trusted her, since she was the well-known captain of the Crux. After you had explained your situation, she offered you to join her crew. You agreed, and began dating her about six months after joining the Crux.

Because you had been aboard the Alcor for a year, you knew the crew was loud and prone to get drunk. You had never liked to drink, preferring to quietly sip a small glass of dandelion wine while sitting next to Beidou while she drank a few beers and talked with her crew.

It was now the one year anniversary of when you had left Liyue Harbor, and conveniently, the Alcor was anchored there for a bit for a supplies run, imports drop off, and exports pickup. While out and about with Beidou, you had seen your ex in the wharf. They were about to come and talk to you, when you had pointed them out to Beidou. Beidou had slipped her arm around your waist, glaring at your ex, who glared back and turned heel to walk away.

Now, you sipped your wine beside Beidou, deep in thought. The loud atmosphere wasn't helping your anxieties, and you couldn't get your ex's glare out of your head. You didn't even realize you were completely zoned out until Beidou raised her arm to sling it around your shoulders, after she noticed you were zoned out.

Your arms flew up to shield yourself, and you spilt wine all over the both of you. The cup clattered to the floor, but luckily no one else noticed what just happened.

Beidou's face dropped and she quickly picked up the cup, setting it back down on the table.

"Men!" she called out. "Y/n and I are turning in early tonight! Make sure you scallywags have this cleaned up by the morning!"

The crew cheered their goodnights, raising their beers to their captain and her first mate. Beidou smiled, slipped an arm around your waist, and led you back to your guys' shared quarters.

"Alright doll, what happened just now?"

She closed the door behind her and sat on the bed next to you, looking at you with a certain softness that made you melt.

"I'm.. I'm sorry, I was just thinking of my ex, and how we saw them earlier, and I couldn't get their glare out of my head.. and I left them exactly a year ago.. I don't know why I flinched away from yo-"

Beidou cut you off by taking both of your hands into hers.

"Y/n, don't say sorry! You know, your ex wouldn't stand a chance against even my weakest crew member. They will never hurt you again."

"I don't doubt that for a second," you said, a small smile growing on your face, "Thank you for taking me in, Beidou."

"No, the pleasure is all mine. I couldn't ask for a better first mate. You're safe now, okay?" she smiled, squeezing your hands.

You looked into her eyes for a moment before throwing your arms around her. She squeezed you back, kissing your head.

"C'mon, let's shower and get this wine off of us." she giggled.

You laughed. "Yeah, let's."

Kaeya had told you his backstory, but you never mentioned yours. You just weren't ready to talk about it. Your parents had never been great, you always walked on eggshells around everyone, and everyone was all too rough with you, emotionally and physically.

You had met Kaeya in the tavern one night, while trying to drink away what you were feeling. Kaeya had noticed how obliterated you were and let Diluc know he was taking you to stay at the Knights Headquarters, and would keep an eye on you. The rest was history, and now you and Kaeya had been dating for a little over a year.

Kaeya had told you his backstory on Monday. That same day later on, you had a run in with your parents at Blanche's, where they had yelled at you for deciding to become a Knight, and proceeded to pick you apart from your very core.

In turn, you had been drinking a little more than usual for the entire week. You seemed more withdrawn and just not fully there. And it all came to a head when you were laying in bed next to Kaeya.

He went to put his arm over you, a loving gesture, but your arms came up on instinct to shield yourself. He sighed loudly.

"You're scared of me."

"Oh Archons- I didn't mean to- no, I swear it isn't-"

"You've been acting all angry and cold ever since I told you about my roots. I thought you would be the one who didn't leave me after I told them."

"No, Kaeya- please, just let me explain!"

"I'm listening."

You began to hesitantly tell him about your parents. His face grew angrier and angrier every time you told him another thing your parents had done to you.

"I'll kill them. I had no idea that that happened though. I'm sorry for assuming."

"It's alright, Kaeya. I didn't even consider that you might think I was acting weird because of where your confession."

"I swear they'll never get near you again, alright? You're safe now. It's alright."

He pulled you into him, wrapping you up in his strong arms and putting his legs over yours, making you feel protected and safe.

"No one will hurt you, not on my watch. I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Kaeya. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"No need for apologies, you were gonna tell me when you were ready. Now let's get some sleep, that dandelion wine I downed earlier is starting to get to me."

You giggled, burying your head further into his chest.

"Alright. Goodnight, Kaeya."

"Night, prince/ess."

You and Diluc had been dating for a few months now, you had met when he had needed to hire a new bartender, and you volunteered your mixing skills to the Angel's Share. You had caught his eye immediately, and he had asked you out on a date soon after you began your work there.

Your ex wasn't a kind person, to say the least, so you had been hesitant to say yes. You assured Diluc that this was just because your ex was unkind to you, but you had never mentioned physical harm. You hadn't wanted to worry him.

You were sitting on the couch with Diluc, his arm slung over your shoulders while you stared into the crackling flames of the fire burning before you. Diluc wasn't paying attention, as he was reading a book in his free hand.

He raised his arm up, attempting to adjust to a more comfortable position, but you misread this. Your arms were shielding your face in an instant, and Diluc was looking at you with a shocked and concerned face that quickly morphed to anger.

"I'm going to kill him." he growled/

You lowered your arms and looked down, avoiding looking him in the eye.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

"Did he hit you??"

"I, um, didn't want to worry you."

"Barbatos.. and this domestic abuser is just, what, roaming around Mondstat? No punishment for the pain he put you through?"

"I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want him to come and hurt me. I also didn't want to cause any trouble."

Diluc rubbed a hand over his face, before wrapping you in a hug.

"You're safe here, alright? I will never lay a hand on you to hurt you. I won't let anyone else hurt you either, okay?"

"Thank you.." your eyes welled up with tears, "I thought you would be upset that I didn't tell you."

"No, never. It's a hard thing to talk about. If you'd like, I have connections. We can have him arrested."

"I don't want to cause trouble.."

"You won't. He won't be able to hurt anyone else this way. But we can discuss this later. Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"That'd be nice. Thanks, Diluc."

"You're welcome, angel. Tell me if anyone hurts you again, alright? I'll protect you."

"Will do. I love you."

"I love you too."

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fearnism · 2 years

Text

ally mayfair richards x reader

❝ you’re oz’s babysitter when ally goes on dates and you have a big crush on her. ❞

✑ i don’t know how to summarize to save my life. bUT hi i’m lowkey nervous about sharing this, but maybe someone will like it !! also this is slightly canon divergent i guess

✑ fluff fluff !

✑ word count: 1.639

—

“There are leftovers in the fridge. Please help yourself to some, y/n.” Ally reminded you, knew you too well by now. You felt as though it wasn’t your place to assume it was okay to eat their food, even though Ally told her it was absolutely fine every time.

You’ve been Oz’ babysitter for a few months now, wanted to earn some money between classes. And Oz was a wonderful kid, easy to handle. (His beautiful mother was an added bonus.)

“If anything’s wrong—”

“I’ll make sure to call you, I know the drill.” You smiled reassuringly, aware of her anxiety. You’d always go out of your way to make sure her mind is at ease — told her when Oz was securely tugged into bed, sent her pictures of your game night or the movie your settled on watching.

You knew better than to take her worries personal. You knew she trusted you and had no doubts about your care for her son. She couldn’t help it after what she had been through. What they had been through.

“Have a great time on your date.” The smile you offered her was less genuine than the ones before, almost forced onto your lips.

Whenever Ally called you to ask if you were free on a friday or saturday night, you felt a tug on your heart and your stomach sink. A date. She always sounded so excited and you really tried to be happy for her but you also wished you could be the one going on a date with her.

Ally placed her hand on your upper arm, giving it a light squeeze and you briefly wondered if she could feel you tense under her touch. Your heart beating fast in your chest.

“Thanks, darling. I’ll see you later.” She gave your arm another squeeze before calling a sweet goodbye to her son and heading out of the front door.

“Bedtimes’ at 8!” You heard her call before the door fell into its locks and you were left to yourself in the living room.

With a sigh you dropped onto the soft couch, blindly reaching for a pillow to cover your face with and scream into. Thankfully the pillow muffled the sound.

Another night wondering how Ally’s date was going; if the woman she was out with was treating her right and what they would be doing.

You imagined Ally to be the kind of person to take her date out to dinner, to some fancy restaurant. She would probably recommend some expensive wine, making you shiver under her watchful eye as you tried it. And after asking you to describe it, she’d laugh at your silly attempt. Ally would have been to the restaurant before, not on a date, just to check it out and she would insist on ordering for you two, and it would be the best thing you had ever eaten. There would be a comfortable silence between you, occasionally glancing at each other with matching shy smiles. Maybe she’d even reach for your hand on the table —

Another groan escaped your lips before you sat up. You set the pillow down to reveal an irritated Oz across from you.

You looked at each other for a moment. “Never mention this to anyone.” You warn him playfully and he grinned, an idea already forming in his little head.

“Only if you play video games with me.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Half an hour before dinner, not a single word to your mother.” You held out your hand, “45 minutes and I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He negotiated, waiting for your agreement to shake on it.

“You’re a little devil, do you know that?” You huffed and Oz simply shrugged, getting the game started for the two of you.

—

After several round of Mario Kart, you each had your fair share of wins.

Oz jumped up and down when he beat you during the last round and you laughed. “Alright, champ, put the things away and then it’s time for dinner.” You checked the clock before heading into the kitchen.

The leftovers were quickly re-heated and plated for the two of you to eat. To no surprise, it was delicious.

Oz got ready on his own after dinner, leaving you to clean up the kitchen.

"Can I read some more before lights off?" He asked and you smiled, had already been waiting for him to ask. "Just for ten more minutes." You ruffled his hair before he reached for his comic on the bedside table.

"I'll check on you, so it better be pitch black in here when I do." You teased, leaving the door open just a crack before heading back downstairs.

For the first time that evening you pulled out your phone to text Ally.

you: oz's in bed x

You placed it back down on the kitchen counter, not expecting the buzz that came from your phone only a few seconds later.

You furrowed your brows as you checked to see who the message was from.

ally <3: You're a saint, darling. Did you have dinner?

You smiled at the question, shook your head.

you: i did, and it was delicious as always.

You wondered why she had time to text. Was her date not going well? Maybe her date was in the bathroom.

ally <3: There's a bottle of wine in the cupboard above the microwave, if you'd like. I'll be home soon.

you: i'll get a second glass out? ;)

ally <3: I like the way you think. :D

You wasted no time in getting two wine glasses out and filling them once you’ve reached the bottle Ally mentioned.

With the glasses in hand you made your way back into the living room, getting comfortable on the couch.

To pass the time you decided to watch a movie. You had always been a big fan of thrillers, even though they could scare the shit out of you sometimes. But that had never stopped you before.

Your whole body tensed at the scene on the TV screen and you clutched the pillow on your lap like your life depended on it.

You practically leaped off the couch when you felt a hand on your shoulder and were quick to question your sanity if it weren’t for Ally laughing in front of you, holding her belly as she leaned over.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“What the hell, Ally!” You couldn’t even pretend to be mad, her laughter might be your favorite sound in the world and was definitely contagious.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t think you’d jump through the ceiling.” She teased, calming her laughter finally.

“Very, very, funny!” You said, scrunching your nose. “There will come a time for me to get my revenge.”

She nodded, “Fair enough.” She rounded the couch and sat down, patting the spot next to her where you sat before she nearly gave you a heart attack.

“You're back early.” You stated, taking a seat with your legs tugged underneath you.

“Well, my date left halfway through to take a business call and never returned.” She sighed. "But it's fine, I'd much rather spend my time with you." She smiled, as though it was the most casual thing to say. Like your heart didn’t stop beating in your chest, or your breath caught in your throat.

"I'm sorry." You spoke softly. "I can't believe someone would do that. To you especially." You mumbled, more to yourself and Ally looked at you. "What did you say, darling?" She reached for her wine glass on the coffee table.

"Oh, nothing." You shy away from the question. "What do you mean by that?" She poked her finger into your side, grinning.

"By what?" You played dumb.

"To me especially." She quoted you.

You blushed.

"Oh just, I mean, you're a very beautiful woman and I... I don't understand why someone would leave like that when you're their date. Just seems stupid to me." You admitted, lowering your gaze to avoid her eyes.

Ally’s smiled widened. "Maybe I should ask you out on a date then."

You lifted your head again, just stared at her with an open mouth, unable to form a coherent response.

She bit her lip, studying your face as the words hung in the room between them.

"Would you like that?" She asked. "To go out with me?” She asked. “Oh my, did I... Oh god, I overstepped, that's totally inappropriate, I'm sorry, y/n.”

You shook your head, tried desperately to form the right words.

“No, Ally. I- I would love to.” You interrupted her rambling. "I just- I never thought you would ask me.”

You laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. Or maybe it was sheer disbelief.

If someone told you Ally would ask you out someday, you would never believe them. . This felt like a dream.

“You're… really? Why are you laughing?” She asked, confused.

"This is gonna sound so stupid, but could you pinch me? So I know this is actually happening?” You asked, making her laugh again. “Can I try something less painful?” She suggested and you nod your head hesitantly.

"Close your eyes." She said, moving closer and you did as you were told without a second of hesitation, holding your breath.

"Breathe." She whispered now and she was so close to you, you felt her breath on your face.

You exhaled slowly.

And then her lips brushed against yours while her hands came to rest on your cheeks so gently.

You melted into her touch instantly, kissing her slowly.

"Convinced?" She asked once she pulled away slightly, for air, and you nodded, chuckling quietly. Your eyes were still closed, "Convinced." You whispered.

She rested her forehead against yours, smiling before leaning in for another kiss.

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #ally mayfair richards #ally mayfair x reader #ahs cult #ahs #american horror story #ahs fanfiction #wlw #wlw fanfiction #wlw fanfic

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todoscript · 3 years

Text

how he would ask you out

request: pls some headcanons of how the boys (shinsou/tamaki/shouto) would ask the girl they like out 🥺

characters: shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff

word count: 3.3k+ total, 900-1200 per character

tags: pining, confessions, fem!reader

author’s notes: sorry if this sounds rushed?? i can’t write

SHINSOU HITOSHI

two years after his enrollment into the hero course, shinsou had finally came to terms with the feelings he’s been holding for you for quite some time now.

what began as just friendly encounters and kind gestures felt like something more to him. after all, you were one of the key people that led him to transition smoothly into the class, with your helpful demeanor and coming to his aid whenever he was stressed and troubled by the new environment.

you went out of your way to organize study sessions and small arrangements to mingle and get to know the other students better.

you reiterated to him that if he ever had any questions about anything, he could always come to you.

initially, shinsou thought he was being a burden—that he was just heavy baggage that tied you down.

however, you assured he was anything but, and stated that you were more than happy to help him, even going to say you enjoyed spending time and getting to learn more about him.

at your response, shinsou was appalled at how genuine you were.

appalled… but also very grateful.

eventually, there came a point when he realized there was no mistaking the affection he felt for you—not when he subconsciously noted every one of your habits and intricacies, able to tell whatever emotions were running through you at a simple glance, or when he would stop to admire the way you decided to style your hair differently or changed your look, thinking you seemed even more charming that day by the confidence you exude.

no, at that point, he’s sure it was painfully obvious. so obvious, in fact, that kaminari and mina had chosen to skip today’s group study session in favor of letting the two of you have your “alone time”. whatever that could mean.

shinsou had grimaced over their excuse of “being too busy that day” when you had told him the reasoning they gave you over text, despite knowing their next exam was only a couple days away. recalling just how nosy and enthusiastic they could get when involved in these kinds of affairs, he had an inkling of what exactly those two were planning. you, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to their schemes.

however, what did latch onto your mind was the thought of spending the day with only shinsou, in his very room, sitting across from each other with your textbooks open in front of you. though you should be more attentive to your studies, you couldn’t help the palpitations beating loudly in your chest and your wandering eyes that snuck glances at him after every question you answered.

unbeknownst to you, shinsou mirrored your actions all the same, reciprocating the flustered behavior, albeit a bit more subtly.

keep calm, hitoshi. why are you getting all worked up? he would say to himself, putting on his usual facade.

although he came off as relatively calm and collected on the outside, it’s difficult to keep his emotions in check when actions never lie.

that was especially true as he reached his hand out for the eraser you two were sharing between each other. with his eyes continuing to gander down at his notes, he hadn’t noticed that you were lunging for the same thing—not until your fingers had suddenly touched and you both pulled away at a speed equivalent to making contact with fire.

his stare unfaltering, shinsou was surprised to discern the embarrassed look on your face that immediately fixed itself as you rummaged through your pencil pouch. a second later, you pulled out another eraser, one that was notably smaller than the one you were sharing.

“um.. i’ll just use this,” you offered, and shinsou rubbed the back of his neck, the whole situation more awkward than it needed to be considering you never had any trouble sharing your supplies with each other before.

through some examination of your demeanor, shinsou had made a… bold enough claim, thinking that maybe—just maybe—you held the same kind of affections for him as he did for you.

it’s like he recalled earlier—actions never lie—and shinsou didn’t let the quiver of your lips or the intense concentration at your work to avoid meeting his gaze go past his head. that’s what spurred him to finally act on his desires.

without warning, he leaned forward on his seat to lay his hand over yours that caught your attention. you met his eyes, astonished to say the least, but more so concerned by how your eyes widened before you were about to open your mouth to ask him what was wrong.

the violet-haired male beats you to your words, voice resonating firmly, “y/n.”

you blinked. “y-yeah..?”

“i know this might be a bit late coming from me, but,” you could feel his hand tighten atop yours, “after exams, do you want to catch a movie together? just the two of us?”

shinsou fought the urge to look away, bashful at how he made his declaration for your time. the warmth surging under his skin was alleviated at the smile that slowly curled on your lips as you rotate your wrist, your palm touching his. the expression washing over your features told him you’ve been waiting for him to ask you this for a while now.

“i’d love to.”

AMAJIKI TAMAKI

ever a shy and introverted individual, tamaki has never had the heart to ask you out despite years of harboring a crush on you.

every time the thought had crossed his mind, he’d reason poorly with himself that you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way.

it didn’t help that his low self-esteem only deepened that thought that had now rooted itself in his brain.

at such a prestigious school like u.a., you were bound to find someone far more compelling than him—someone with guts, confidence, and great social skills. not a guy like him who conjures the image of potatoes at every anxiety-inducing encounter he comes across.

he was relieved enough to settle himself comfortably as just your friend—a title that allowed him to stay close and keep within your circle, all the while subjecting him to simply admiring you from afar.

but his eyes that held a hidden longing for more weren’t overlooked by a fellow student of his. or to be precise, the ever curious and free-spirited, hadou nejire.

always aware of his surroundings, it was hard not to notice that peculiar stare she’d aim at him during moments where he might’ve just finished speaking to you, or when you’d pass by and his head would naturally drift in your direction.

it was like she was picking apart every detail laid on him and it made tamaki absolutely restless.

tamaki’s suspicions and anxiety were later raised during one instance at the lunch table. he was at his usual seat next to his other big three companions, mirio and the aforementioned nejire, who was eyeing him with a gleam in her eye.

even with his self-consciousness, tamaki did his best not to pay any mind to the undesired attention and munched on his plate of takoyaki—the octopus nestled in the batter sure to come in handy later in training that day.

to his dismay, you passed by their table with your tray of food in hand, and nejire did not waste any time calling you over in that cheery tone of hers.

she invited you to sit down with them. you gave her invitation some thought before ultimately placing yourself in the free spot next to mirio, with nejire and tamaki already seated across from you.

the girl was all smiles and hums while tamaki was in a state of distress, both at his friend’s odd behavior, which was starting to spell trouble, to having you pulled into all of this. mirio was just being mirio, welcoming as always.

you greeted everyone at the table, making eye contact with mirio and nejire, but tamaki evaded your line of sight. he simply waved his reply without breaking away from his balls of takoyaki.

luckily for him, you didn’t give his lack of words much thought and started digging into your own lunch. it was then that nejire found it appropriate to start up a conversation.

“y’know, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you this, from one girl to another,” she mused, finger waving around playfully, “are you interested in anyone here?”

upon hearing her question, tamaki almost choked on his bonito flakes, his cheeks puffed and eyes blown. meanwhile, your chewing slowed as you gave your answer some thought.

“uh… well–”

“i’d say fujita from class d is quite the looker! think you’d be interested in them?”

after swallowing the food in his mouth, tamaki began to subconsciously listen in on the conversation. he paid close attention to your responses with bated breath, a small part of him anticipating your answer highly.

“fujita’s nice and all, but i don’t think we’d really get along as a couple.”

tamaki mentally sighed, relief evident all over his face. it was then that mirio had started fitting the pieces together after watching his close friend’s brow wrinkle throughout the entire exchange before finally relaxing at your words. crossing his eyes with nejire’s only confirmed his suspicions as the girl sent him a wink.

as a friend, mirio wasn’t about to let nejire’s operations fall flat. getting up from his seat, he motioned tamaki to come with him.

“i heard they have extra yakisoba bread right now! we should go check it out!” he said as a guise to give the other two time to themselves, free from tamaki’s prying ears.

unaware that mirio had caught on so quickly, tamaki didn’t object to tagging along with him. mostly because he thought of this as an opportunity to get some fresh air and calm his racing heart, finally feeling the effects of the blood rushing to his face.

with tamaki supposedly out of earshot, nejire was free to go about her questions however she wanted.

“okay then, if not fujita, then who? there has to be someone, right?” the girl scooted further in her seat out of pure curiosity. “tell me, is it perhaps someone in our class?”

it was your turn to be stricken by her boldness. you tried picking at your food, stuffing it into your mouth to avoid answering, but nejire’s tenacity outmatched you.

finishing your lunch, you opened your mouth to speak, “actually, the person i’m interested in is pretty close to you…”

nejire feigned ignorance, innocently placing a finger under her chin. “who? mirio?”

“ah no, it’s tamaki, alright?!” you ended up blurting, voice hushed but frantic.

bingo. hearing exactly what she wanted, nejire returned to her original position, a triumphant grin plastered on her lips. replaying what you said out loud in your head, you buried your warm face in your hands.

unbeknownst to you, tamaki had ended up hearing the whole exchange around the corner coming back to their table as mirio lightly snickered at his revelation of an expression.

the blond patted his shoulder. “go on then, you know what to do.” he threw tamaki an encouraging thumbs-up.

the boy gulped in response before inhaling a deep breath of air to prepare himself for what would arguably be the most important yet stress-inducing moment of his life so far.

noticing you getting up to discard your tray, tamaki—through a final push from mirio—went to make his move.

hearing him suddenly call out to you, you were caught off-guard. after admitting to your crush on tamaki to nejire, you felt your cheeks get hot just seeing his face right afterward.

“oh hey, did you get your hands on those yakisoba breads?” you scraped up a way to start the conversation.

“right... that… mirio managed to get the last one in the cafeteria,” he answered. then he brought his hand to rub his elbow, fidgeting in his spot as he found it difficult to look you in the eyes again.

“tamaki? something wrong? are you upset that he got the last yakisoba bread?”

he shook his head. “no, i… it’s just… i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time now, but never had the courage to say it to you because i didn’t think you ever liked me that way. but…” he finally mustered the determination to face you head-on. “would you go out with me, y/n?”

at first, you were speechless—absent of words as you relayed his request in your mind over and over again. then, your eyes softened, lips easing into a smile as you reached out for his hand.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

it’s no surprise to many that when it came to asking someone out, todoroki didn’t exactly know the first thing to do.

mostly because he’s never asked anyone out to begin with.

you were the first person he’s ever felt these kinds of emotions for, and to be frank, he wasn’t sure what to make of everything that had been going through him when that root of infatuation had started to bloom inside him.

rather than sulk or contemplate on his thoughts for too long, he surmised it was best to simply come clean and ask for advice.

but when he confessed to what had been on his mind lately, he wasn’t expecting such a vigorous response from his friends.

“i’ve been thinking about asking y/n out.”

there was a layer of uncomfortable silence amongst the group before all hell eventually broke loose.

midoriya, uraraka, and iida immediately sprung from their seats in the common room, yelling “what?!” in unison. tsuyu and her frog-like mannerisms were more idle, but still surprised nonetheless.

todoroki was unfazed by their reactions, actually expecting it to go that way considering he’s never brought up any topics of that nature before. at the very least, he’s thankful he decided to say this when it was just the five of them. compared to what the whole class’s reaction would have been like, this was incredibly tame.

todoroki was used to always listening to what others had to say and never being the subject of the conversation when it came to dating.

but now things were different. he was openly admitting to them that he was regarding someone romantically. that he possibly sought a relationship with this someone—wanting to be committed to them and become the very best person he could be right next to them. to the four, this was coming completely out of left field.

after everyone simmered down and let the news sink in, the dual-haired boy resumed his thought,

“but i’m not sure how to do it.”

though the entirety of the group never had any experiences when it came to dating, they knew enough from media and pop culture to get an idea on how to help him. more than todoroki could imagine on his own anyway.

“i know! how about we go with the romantic and suave approach!” uraraka suggested. the rest asked her to elaborate.

“it’s simple! it starts by you leaving a note on her desk right before class, saying to meet you on the rooftop of the school! before the designated time, you should wait there for her with a bouquet of flowers, and then when she arrives, confess your feelings and ask her out!”

midoriya rubbed a finger against his cheek, skeptical. “i don’t think that sounds as simple as you’re making it out to be.”

tsuyu chimed in beside him. “those kinds of ideas usually only work well in books, ochako.”

pursing her lips, uraraka gave her plan a once-over, and realized it did seem a bit more involved and out of character than what todoroki was used to.

despite sharing a few more ideas with one another, they couldn’t narrow it down to any perfect one.

that was when iida clapped his hand, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

“alright, i think we’re starting to blow this whole ‘operation’ way out of proportion,” he said.

“if you’re honest about the way you feel about her and show it sincerely, i’m sure she’ll consider your feelings. you don’t have to do anything extravagant when it comes to asking someone out.”

listening throughout every word, todoroki nodded. meanwhile the other three were astonished that their class representative could be so whimsical when it came to romance, which in turn, iida was conflicted by. however, at the very least he was glad they could help out a friend. and so, todoroki went about his day with their discussion in mind.

he found that in many occurrences, whenever he crossed by you and thought of it as a chance to ask you out, there would always be someone to come in and take your time away. leaving him to stand there awkwardly before dismissing the fated question for later.

eventually, the sky dimmed and evening arrived, and by then, the whole class was already back at their dormitory and about to have dinner.

through some rather convenient circumstances, you two were actually assigned on kitchen duty that night.

“it’s been getting pretty cold lately so i was thinking we should cook up a hot pot for everyone.” you gave your idea to him as you pulled out some ingredients from the fridge, waiting for his reply, but it came a few seconds later than you were expecting.

“right. sounds like a good idea,” todoroki answered a tad late. upon realizing it was only going to be the two of you making dinner tonight, his mind was occupied by what he and his friends spoke about earlier.

that was when he started overthinking the situation and absentmindedly half-assed his work.

“todoroki, the cut on the tofu is slightly uneven.” you reviewed his cutting board. looking down, he saw the inconsistent slices of tofu limp in front of him. if bakugou were the executive chef for the evening, he would’ve had to hear an earful from him.

“sorry…” he apologized quietly, reaching out for another cube of tofu to cut.

“is everything okay? i know you’re still learning how to cook, but i’ve seen you show some significant improvement on your knife skills recently.” you voiced your concern for him.

the white and red-haired boy stared at the white bean curd while hearing your worried tone and couldn’t find it within himself to continue the task. it was now or never he thought. he laid the knife flat on the cutting board.

“actually, i wanted to ask you something.” he turned toward you. “do you… want to go out with me?”

nothing but the sound of the fire running on the stove could be heard in the kitchen. todoroki didn’t move his eyes away from you, watching you nearly drop the plate of siu choy and shiitake mushrooms out of shock as your mouth was hanging open.

when you caught onto your bearings, you let out a small laugh. “oh… i… wasn’t expecting that,” you admitted honestly, placing the ingredients on the counter safely.

the boy furrowed his brows. “is that a no?”

“n-no! i mean that isn’t my answer! i–” you fumbled with your words, cheeks warming up now that his confession had finally sunk in. in the meantime, todoroki found your reaction quite amusing. the corner of his lip quirked into a grin.

“what i mean to say is that yes, i’d love to go out with you.” you accepted the offer wholeheartedly. todoroki would be lying if his heart wasn’t throbbing from anticipation. he’s glad he’s able to rest and put that aside.

“now let’s continue making this hot pot together!” you cheered, smiling widely and he found comfort in your words before resuming slicing the tofu.

#bnha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha headcanons #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #tamaki x reader #todoroki x reader #mha x reader #bnha scenarios #mha headcanons #shinsou hitoshi x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x y/n

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blackholelynn · 3 years

Text

It's Okay

Summary: You're in the middle of a stressful job transition, and Spencer comes home to find you in the midst of a panic attack.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of stress eating, description of anxiety/panic attack, description of overall stress

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: Hello!! Here's my first Criminal Minds fic and my first reader-insert! I'm happy with how this turned out, and it was honestly so cathartic. This is a completely self-indulgent comfort fic, as I'm in the middle of a really stressful transfer out of an awful job. But despite that, I managed to get this written, so enjoy! My requests are also open if you're inclined to drop a request!

~~~

The apartment was empty. Again.

You heaved a sigh as you trudged your way through the doorway, your heavy work satchel clutched in one hand and takeout in the other. Spencer had said that he would be back this evening, so you had made the extra stop to pick up your favorite takeout.

As soon as you set the bags down and slumped onto the couch, your phone rang. “Hey, I’m so sorry I’m not back yet.”

“Spence, it’s fine,” you lied, chucking off your boots with your toes. “Trust me, I get it when things come up at work.”

“Speaking of, have you heard back yet?”

Just the mention of your prospective job made you want to curl into a ball and cry. You’d gotten the job; that was one good thing in a sea of bad. The only downside was that it was with a company in the middle of a merger with your own, so now you had to get a straight answer from someone if you were to quit or transfer.

“Yeah, I got the job!” You tried to channel the excitement from when you’d first been told. “So it’s official. Their HR department called me and offered the position.”

“That’s great!” Murmured talking could be heard on the other end of the phone before a burst of cheers, and you could tell that he’d told the rest of the team. “When is your start date?”

Yeah, if you were going to have this conversation, you were going to need to break into the take-out. You padded over to the kitchen and began piling your plate high with food, trying not to think about how much you may regret it later.

The cheery exterior you’d put on cracked ever so slightly as you explained the situation, “Well, that’s a bit complicated…”

“Don’t tell me–” Spencer stopped himself from going on a tirade, knowing it would only make you feel worse. He took a deep breath in and out before he continued. “What happened?”

“I told you how we’re in the middle of a merger, so these things can be a bit tricky. The woman at HR told me to put in my two weeks, so I did that.”

“So problem solved.”

“Not…” You grabbed your food out of the beeping microwave and took a small bite immediately, needing the comfort of the flavors. “Not exactly. My manager did the exit interview, and I accidentally let it slip where I’d gotten hired. She insisted it was a transfer and that I shouldn’t be putting my two weeks notice in yet.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, just long enough that you could tell Spencer was starting to stew over it again. For the past few months, your workplace had been even more stressful, and it was not helped by your management denying you time off at every turn. The pressure was causing you to crack, something that Spencer was becoming keenly aware of and hated to see.

When he spoke again, there was no background noise of the police station, suggesting he must’ve gone outside. “So what are you supposed to do?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. I’ve been trying to get answers on what my next steps are, but so far no luck,” you sighed. The stress of the last few days of the unknown was starting to weigh on you again, and you could feel the tears well behind your eyes. You sniffled and took another bite of your food. “I’m sure it will work out, but I was just really looking forward to having some time off between jobs.”

“Oh, angel.” Spencer’s heartbreaking was practically audible through the phone. He wanted to comfort you so badly, but he was on the other side of the country with loose ends to tie up until tomorrow. “You’re right, it’s all going to work out. It would look terrible if your manager now ended up costing them an employee.”

“I know, it’s just that I don’t know how much longer I can do this. A transfer could take weeks, months even.” The thought made your stomach flip, and suddenly the heaping plate of food in front of you looked disgusting. Pushing it away, you curled up on one of the barstools by the island. “But it’s not that big of a deal, and you have some work to get done–”

“No, it’s alright. You can tell me whatever’s on your mind. You know that, right?”

His sweet words only seemed to twist the knife in your chest a bit harder, and biting back a sob, you hurried the call along, “I know. I’m just kind of tired so I think I’m going to go to bed. Be safe, Spence.”

“Okay, good night. I love you,” he said, seemingly hesitant but putting emphasis on his ‘I love you.’ He knew you needed to hear it.

“Love you too,” you quickly answered before hanging up.

You held your phone in your hands as you leaned on the counter, your face pressed against the cool stone counter. Hot tears ran down your cheeks as your thoughts overwhelmed you, and slowly you began to grow more and more hysterical. In the apartment, alone, there was no escape or outlet for any of the worries that had been plaguing you. By the time you managed to calm down, your entire body felt leaden, so you stayed where you were. You fell asleep halfway sitting, halfway leaning on the unforgiving counter surface.

When you woke up the next morning, your entire body ached from where you slept the night before, and every part of you felt sick. The food from the night before had been forgotten on the counter, meaning that it was likely no longer fit for consumption. Your jacket, bag, and boots were still scattered through the living room where you had left them the night before.

You felt like you were in no shape to go back into the office today, but with the pressure of the upcoming job change, you didn’t feel like you had the right to stay home. So you quickly got ready for work and scrambled out the door, hoping that this day would be better than the past few.

However, it was not any better by a long shot. You felt like you were running off of a short fuse, practically ready to explode at every caller that called into your workplace. Somehow you managed to bite your tongue and get through the day, but you fell apart as soon as you hit the privacy of your car. Once again you were crying like you had almost every day after work for a while now, and the only thing that kept you from breaking down like you had last night was the fact that you had to drive home.

The keys to your apartment jingled as you unlocked the door, and a small sliver of hope bloomed in your chest as you thought about Spencer finally being home. You were really needing some quality time with him if only to distract you a bit from feeling like a frazzled mess.

But the apartment was empty again.

And it felt like the straw that broke the camel’s back. Your bag was dropped just inside the doorway, and you didn’t even bother to take off your jacket or boots as you curled up into a ball on the couch. The sobs that wracked your body were violent and uncontrollable, and it felt like if you even moved the wrong way you’d shatter into a million pieces like a dropped Lego toy.

It felt like ages passed, and you were just about to drag yourself to bed when a voice carried in from the hallway and through the open door. “Angel?”

“Spence?”

Spencer stood in the doorway of the apartment with his go-bag still clutched in his hand, and the crease of worry between his brows was deep as he looked at you. You were sat up on the couch, your hair wild from burrowing into the cushions and tears still running down your already wet cheeks. It looked like you hadn’t slept in ages, which was not too far from the truth. The mixture of an empty bed and job stress boiled down to little sleep.

He lightly set down his bag on the table by the doorway and hurried to your side, scooping you up and pulling you into his lap. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s all okay.” When your shoulders started to tremble once more, he soothingly rubbed circles into your arm. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s just…” you hiccuped, struggling to be coherent while you were melting down. “All day it’s just stupid people calling about stupid things!”

“I know how hard it is for you, but it’s going to be alright. I have some good news, do you want to hear it?” His voice was soft as he asked, almost as soft as the gentle treatment he was handling you with. When you nodded, he continued with a small smile. “I talked to Hotch, and if your transfer falls through, he’s willing to hire you on in a secretarial position.”

You stared up at him with wide eyes, suddenly feeling like the world wasn’t caving in on you. “Really?”

“Really,” he answered, his smile growing into a grin when he saw the light come back into your eyes. “So no pressure about any of this. You’re safe no matter what happens.”

You heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed into Spencer’s embrace. That’s really what had been getting to you – the pressure. And your wonderful, amazing, too-good-for-this-world boyfriend just lifted it all off of your shoulders in one fell swoop. You reached for his hand, lazily intertwining your fingers with his.

He kissed your forehead, helping you to sit up now that you were more coherent. “On the bright side, if you do work for us, that means I won’t be caught late at the office with paperwork.”

“Oh yeah, it’ll all fall on me. I see your evil plan for what it really is, mister,” you teased, nudging his shoulder. The warmth that spread through your chest was a nice change of pace from the crippling anxiety that had been plaguing you for weeks. “Thank you, Spence. I really couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.”

Spencer brought your joined hands to his lips, gently kissing the back of your hand. “And I couldn’t ask for a better partner.”

“Now that you’re home, do you want to have a Doctor Who marathon?”

“It’s not the weekend yet…” His question was clear even if it was obvious that he didn’t want to mention your workplace again. You had work in the morning, so an all-night sci-fi marathon was out of the question.

You shrugged, curling into his side and looking up at him with a loving gaze. “Who cares? I have so much time saved up, and I should probably use it before I leave.”

“Then yeah. I’ll make some popcorn.” He gave you a quick kiss before leaving the couch and heading over to the kitchen. You couldn’t help the lovestruck look on your face as you watched him prepare the microwave popcorn, unsure of how you managed to get someone so understanding and loving. He made you feel like you could do anything.

Because you could. You just needed to hear someone say it once in a while.

#criminal minds #one-shot #one shot #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #pov second person #no y/n #comfort #fluff #spencer reid x y/n #reader-insert #reader insert #lynn writes

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Closed Casket.

Commissioned by the very lovely @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Demon Brothers/Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 2.4k.

TW: Toxic Relationships, Dehumanization, Codependence, Threats of Violence, Mentions of Death, Implied Imprisonment.

It was a closed-casket funeral.

For such a small detail, it bothered you more than it had any right to. You hadn’t been the one to arrange it, the one to speak to the undertaker and evaluate the damage – that was a responsibility that fell to her fiancé rather than you, a distant cousin, only brought up in conversations about postponed friendships and quickly thinning family trees. You’d done what you could to help, what a last living relative should do to help - paying for flower arrangements, speaking to financial advisors, sorting through her belongs and trying to guess at what might’ve held some sentimental value to someone more present in her life, but you never saw the body. No one ever offered, and you hadn’t known how to ask. She was gone, now, dead and buried, and you'd never gotten to see her, even if everyone who had said that it was probably for the best.

And it probably was. They were probably right. You wouldn’t feel any better, if you had.

And yet, you found it difficult to believe you could feel any worse than you did now, either.

Belphegor was curled around your arm. He had been since you came back from the Human World, slotted against your side, draped over your shoulders, and currently, splayed out on top of you, his face buried in the flesh just above your shoulder blade, his body forcibly tangled with yours in a way that was too awkward to be comfortable for both of you, a sacrifice he seemed more than willing to make on your behalf. You’d tried to shrug him off earlier, when he first decided there was enough space on the smallest loveseat in the common room for his strange, daily ritual, and when that failed, you’d tried to talk him into letting go, into loosening his grip enough for you to slip away when he fell asleep, into relocating to somewhere else, somewhere softer, somewhere with a pillow that could easily replace you when he was too busy tossing and turning to care, but Belphegor had always been so frustratingly picky when it came to where, how, and when he chose to sleep.

He’d chosen you, and he’d chosen like this, and he’d chosen now. There was little you could do to change his mind, after he’d already made it up.

Still, you tried. He wasn’t asleep yet, caught somewhere between permanently half-conscious state and a sleep deep enough to warrant medical concern for most living creatures, supernaturally inclined or otherwise. “Belphie,” You called, gently, pushing the temptation to try more forceful methods into the back of your mind. “Think you pick another spot? Just for today?”

“Can’t.” It was a simple response, his voice heavy with sourceless exhaustion, just as short and just as blunt as it had been the last time you asked. You weren’t sure what you’d expected, honestly. “You were gone. I can’t.”

Your frown deepened. You’d left for a week – nine days, at most. And Belphegor couldn’t have been awake for more than half of that. “That’s not--”

“He was lonely, sweetheart.” It was Asmodeus, this time, as he perched himself on the loveseat’s arm. He wasn’t any better than Belphie, nimble fingertips soon tracing aimless patterns over the side of your neck, the dip of your shoulder, taking up the space he could occupy since the space he’d like to was already in-use. “He’ll get better, in a few days. Once it sinks in that you won't be leaving again.”

You were out of practice. A month ago, you would’ve known better than to respond, than to ask questions to someone who took as much delight in festering doubts as Asmodeus did. A month ago, you would’ve brushed him off and found your way to Purgatory Hall for the rest of the night. But, it wasn’t a month ago, and you were tired. You were still thinking about that casket, and you couldn’t seem to think of much else. “What do you mean?”

“Oh?” There was a pause, a laugh, light and melodic and fluttering. You’d always liked his laugh. You could bring yourself to enjoy it, though, not right now. “No one’s told you, yet?”

“Don’t tease ‘em.” You hadn’t noticed how full the common room had gotten, not until Mammon spoke and you reflexively turned to face the sofa opposite to yours. He was standing, leaning against the back, his hands clasped in a way that’d put his anxiety on display far more transparently than his voice ever could. Beelzebub, too, his arms crossed over his chest as his attention shifted idly between you, the console in Leviathan’s hands, and the book splayed out in Satan's lap, his scowl serving as evidence of his annoyance. It always bothered you, how easily he grew frustrated by situations he chose to put himself in. It bothered you a little more, today. “Might as well spit it out, if you’re going to bring it up,” Mammon went on, shifting his weight, letting his eyes fall to the floor, then rise to the ceiling, then drift back to you. “There’s no point putting it off.”

“Weren’t you supposed to tell them, Mammon?” Beelzebub chimed in, absent-mindedly. If it'd been Satan, if it'd been Lucifer, it would’ve been pointed, malicious, purposeful. Beelzebub just sounded like he was trying to remind his older brother of something he’d forgotten. “You said you should be the one to do it, since you met them first. Then, when Lucifer said you wouldn’t be able to do it, you said that if the human threw a tantrum, you could just--”

“I didn’t say shit.” Mammon cut him off, his tone hostile, but it was a half-hearted anger, more petty than vengeful. “I said I could, not that I would, and Lucifer shot me down. If he hadn’t, there’d already be a deadbolt on every fucking door in the house. We wouldn’t be sitting around, talkin’ about it.”

“Every door?” Beelzebub looked confused. Then, he looked concerned. “I thought we agreed to just seal the exits.”

“I still think we should just use their bedroom,” Leviathan chimed in, never looking up from his hand-held. Something tightened in the back of your throat. Experimentally, you tried to pull yourself out of Belphegor’s arms, but he only held you tighter, and Asmodeus’ nails dug into your shoulder, rooting you back into place without a single word. “It’d be cool, kinda like a permanent save-point. We wouldn’t have to worry about baby-proofing the entire house, either.”

“We could use a leash,” Asmodeus suggested, never breaking his stare. He didn’t look away. You wished he would. You wished they’d, if nothing else, have the courtesy to wait until you’d left the room to start talking about things you didn’t know and didn’t want to know. “So we can make sure they’re always close by! Or, we could have Lucifer enchant a collar – having to hold a tether might get in way when I have to--”

“He’d never do it.” It was the first time Satan had cut in, but it was clear he’d been listening. His book was still open, his expression still concentrated, but he was tapping his foot, the disruption soundless against the thick carpeting, and you couldn’t remember the last time he thought to pretend to turn a page. He was listening, but he didn’t want to be. He was a part of this, but you doubted he’d every say as much out loud. You doubted he’d ever let himself admit he’d stooped to that level. “And if he did, we’d never hear the end of it. In a week, there’d probably be a new kennel in the catacombs, right next to Ceberus’.” He stopped, for a moment, shaking his head. For your own sake, your chose to believe the envy lingering behind his voice was his attempt at a bad joke. “You would prefer a bedroom, wouldn’t you, (Y/n)?”

He asked you a question. He was talking to you, now, directly, which was more than you could say for any of his brothers. It should’ve been an improvement. An opportunity, if nothing else, a chance to ask why Asmodeus was looking at you like that, why you could feel Belphegor’s careless smile pressing into your skin, but you hesitated, something catching in your chest. It felt too solid, too heavy, too rough and too jagged. It felt like it’d hurt to swallow down, later on, once the unease passed and you got over whatever scheme they’d planned out, while you were gone.

“I… What?” You weren’t sure what you wanted to say, but it came out as a question regardless, your reluctance blending messily with your confusion. “This isn’t funny. If you’re going to act like this every time I visit the Human World, I might have to stop coming back.”

Finally, Satan glanced up from his book. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said he was smiling. “Right. Because you still think you're allowed to leave.”

The rest of the room fell silent. Or, maybe it didn’t, maybe it was louder than it'd ever been. You didn’t know. You couldn't hear anything, not over the sudden ringing in your ears. “I’ll have to, eventually. It’s not up to me.”

Beelzebub shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “It’d be safer if you stayed in the Devildom. We can’t protect you in the Human World.”

Leviathan’s grip tightened around his console. In the background, you could hear the plastic shell start to crack. “We wouldn’t be able to see you. Not all the time. Not for more than a few weeks at a time.” He was quiet, for a moment. Then, he added, “It wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t… It wouldn’t feel like it does when you’re here.”

Mammon looked away, letting his head lull to the side. “You belong here, with us. You’re supposed to be here. We’re just doin’ you a favor. No one wants to watch you figure out how fucked you’d be on your own.”

And, finally, Belphegor groaned, exhaustion heavy in the gravely sound. He untangled himself from you, but the freedom was temporary, fleeting, his arms snaking around your waist, instead, his face soon gracelessly buried in your chest. His eyes flickered open, but barely, just enough to let him stare up at you through his eyelashes, a thoughtless grin pulling at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t divided, not like his brothers were. He didn’t try to pretend he was above holding you against your will. “You're not leaving again.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a threat. It was just a fact, to him. It was something that wouldn’t happen, that couldn’t happen, if only because his older brothers were willing to work so hard to make sure it didn’t. “We’re not gonna share you, anymore. We’re not gonna have to.”

You didn’t want to hear anything else. You didn’t want to be here, anymore, not if this was what it meant, not if it was going to feel like standing in front of that closed casket all over again, the urge to run and sob and scream silencing every reasonable thought you’d ever had. You didn’t bother trying to talk to Asmodeus and Belphegor, you didn’t bother trying to coo and edge and skirt around their anger, their unspoken threats, not anymore, not when your body was already standing on its own, shoving at Belphegor’s body and swatting at Asmodeus’ hand as he reached out, aiming to cup your cheek and tell you so gently to sit down and shut up. Beelzebub leaned forward, Mammon flinched, and you could’ve sworn you caught a row of long, pointed fangs flash across Satan’s sneer, but you didn’t care. You wanted to hit something. You wanted to yell. You’d wanted to ever since you came back to this damned house and its overly affectionate occupants.

“You don’t get to share me.” You couldn’t be shared. You weren’t theirs to share, even if they already seemed geared against the idea. You weren’t theirs to trap, either. You never would be. “I don’t need your protection, and you don’t need to see me, and the only place I’m supposed to be is the Human World. I don’t know what got into your fucked-up heads while I was gone, but you can’t just--”

“Sit down, (Y/n).”

You stopped mid-sentence.

Right. You’d almost forgotten Lucifer hadn't gotten a chance say his piece, yet.

He didn’t give you time to cooperate. There was already a fist curled around the back of your collar, dragging you back into your seat, the action so much more aggressive than Belphegor’s oppressive dead-weight or Amsodeus’ sweet, sickly temptation. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel Lucifer looming over you, standing tall, towering above his younger brothers as he took control of the room. You wondered if he’d been here the entire time, if he’d heard everything, rather than just your sudden outburst. You wondered if you should hope that he had.

“We missed you, while you were gone.” He didn’t sound mad. He didn’t sound mad, but none of them did, none of them sounded like they were plotting to keep you away from your home, your friends, the life you had outside of demons and angels and magic. None of them sounded dangerous, either, save for Lucifer. He’d always been easier to trust when he wasn’t pretending to be kind. “We’ve all been alive for centuries, and yet, you went and made a week feel like a small eternity. Do you know how difficult it is for a human to inflict that kind of suffering onto a demon?”

You didn’t answer. Across the room, Mammon laughed and Satan bristled. Belphegor melted back into your side, more than happy just to have his resting place scared into immobility.

“You’ll stay.” It was an order, this time. Not a suggestion, not a passing concern, but a command, something you would be expected to obey. He had the nerve to use that low, calm cadence, measured and pre-meditated. He didn’t want to let you convince yourself he was as prone to bluffing as his brothers were. “You’ll stay because we want you to. We’re willing to use force, but there’s no need for that. Is there, love?”

You nodded, your body tense and your eyes glassy, and Lucifer rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a row of knuckles delicately pressed to your cheek. A miserable reward for such an unwilling sacrifice, but Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. It certainly didn’t stop him from leaning in, his lips brushing against the top of your head, his voice falling just low enough to make something sharp and cold shot down your spine, as he went on.

“It’s not like you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

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