#only to remember and sit in horror at the fact that at the end of the day their actions had little concequence to the greater universe and

[arolesbianism]

I should rly get around to designing the Jackies and Olivias from my swap aus now that I have ideas for how to differentiate them for their non swapped counterparts, but at the same time the eternal dread of having to commit to either keeping or changing the gravitas uniform for the swap aus hangs over me with ever increasing pressure, so maybe I can just only draw headshots of them and commit to that til the end of time instead

[obsessedwithceleste]

Til It’s Gone

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this cute lil request 🤗

Summary: It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone. (Happy ending I swear)

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Theo let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his seat, ignoring the cheery smile on your face as you turned to face him.

“Hi Theodore!” You chirped brightly, gaze landing on the tall brunette boy coming to sit next to you.

Salazar, here we go, Theo thought bitterly.

“Theo.”

“Right. Theo. How was your day?” You continued on, seemingly oblivious to his indifference as you scribbled mindlessly on your parchment.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite in fact. He knew you liked him. That much you’d made rather obvious. Especially as of late. If saving him a seat everyday in this miserable class didn’t make it clear to everyone that you had a certain affection for the boy, then the notes dropped in his bag, or kisses blown from across the Great Hall certainly did.

The only reason Theo even accepted sitting next to you was because the seat was positioned perfectly to be just outside of Professor Binns’ field of vision, saving him the work of pretending to care about whatever topic the professor was rattling on about.

“I don’t see why you even put up with it all,” Mattheo often said. “Just reject them and move on with it.”

“Or at least stop sitting with them. You’re only encouraging them,” Enzo would add.

Yet, here he was, still sat lazily in the seat next to you. Theo didn’t particularly care that you fancied him to be quite honest. He’d gotten used to the same pattern of stoically ignoring your chatter, copying your carefully organized notes, and leaving. So long as you weren’t too annoying, he didn’t see the harm in sticking around. Besides it’s not like you weren’t easy on the eyes. And he supposed there was something to be said about the confidence with which you acted that set you apart from the general hoard of girls harboring similar feelings.

“Theo?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.” He replied tersely before turning once more to stare blankly ahead.

He’d changed his mind. Absolutely not. This was horrible. At this point, Theo wasn’t even sure if you actually liked him, or were only claiming you did as an excuse to see how much you could embarrass him.

“Mate, this is getting to be Weaselette levels of weird,” Draco said as their group stared in horror at the third year who had approached them warily in the halls with a poem to read aloud in hand.

Theo visibly shuddered, remembering the awful valentine the youngest Weasley had sent Saint Potter a few years prior.

“Save everyone the embarrassment and walk away now, kid,” Draco told the boy. “Go on. Scram.”

The third year didn’t need to be told twice and quickly darted off, away from the group of Slytherin boys.

“It isn’t even 8am mate. Where does that girl get the time to do all this?” Enzo grumbles as they made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo simply ignores his friend’s comments, something he was getting used to doing, as they all sat down at their usual table.

They’d all seemed to have an opinion on you as soon as it became apparent that you had developed a crush on him, and Theo had just about had enough of his friend’s seemingly endless comments regarding his not so secret admirer.

The familiar small parcel tied neatly with a white ribbon that sat waiting for Theodore in his usual spot didn’t go unnoticed, starting the whole thing up again.

“For Salazar’s sake Theo, do you not find it creepy?” Draco asks, eyeing the package.

Theo rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend.

“I don’t care. You all seem to be more interested in y/n’s little stunts than I am, and I’m the one they’re intended for. They’re harmless. Just leave it and they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

“Yeah, or they’ll just keep it up thinking you’re playing all hard to get or what not,” Mattheo snorts.

Theo just glares at his friend, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Just behind Matt’s head, seated at a table with your own friends, Theo sees you blow a kiss his way, winking cheekily.

“Aw, they growing on you? Who would’ve thought dark and broody would be into golden girl herself,” Mattheo teases, earning him a sharp kick from under the table.

“Morning Theodore,” you greet, as the brooding boy once again took his seat beside you, this time in potions.

“It’s Theo.”

“That’s what I said.”

You hear the boy let out a small snort and you smile to yourself. That was one of the biggest reactions you’d been able to get out of the boy.

Your friends often wondered why you so insistently pursued the grumpy Slytherin boy, despite his general apathy towards you, and honestly, it was as simple as the fact that you enjoyed the challenge.

It was like your own little game of cat and mouse. Constantly finding little ways to make the boy smile, even if he didn’t realize it was you. And the rush of excitement you got anytime you were able to elicit any sort of reaction from the boy was like a drug that kept you coming back for more.

You’d found that the best way to elicit such reactions was by staging little acts of public affection whether it be a kiss sent his way or an origami note perched on his desk. Each time, you could see the heat rise softly in the boy’s cheeks as he tried desperately to keep it at bay, sometimes even fighting back a small smile.

Today you had come to class a bit early in order to set up both you and Theo’s potion stations before the brown haired Slytherin arrived, taking extra care to gather enough ingredients for each of your potions. You weren’t even sure he realized that you were doing all this for him, but watching his satisfied smile as he brewed away made it worth it.

That was another thing you had grown to appreciate about the boy. While his friends were all rather light-minded and rowdy, his wit and level-headedness balanced out the group. Theo was smart, and didn't feel the need to make a point about it, flying under the radar of many of your classmates when it came to who had the best marks. Sure it was fun to tease the boy, but you also had a certain admiration for him that went deeper then the nonserious way you often conducted yourself around him.

The rest of the class passed in a sort of agreed upon silence as you worked on your potions. Of course you’d like to talk to Theo a bit, but you’d found he’d preferred the silence, usually not uttering more than a few words to you per class. It was something you could work on eventually you supposed.

“See you later Theodore,” you said brightly once you had finished gathering up your things. Joining your group of friends, you toss one last wave over your shoulder at the boy, smiling to yourself. He hadn’t bothered to correct you for once.

The last thing Theo expected while roaming the dusty shelves of the library was to hear his own name being whispered from deeper within the maze of books he was searching through. The library was where he went to escape his friend’s incessant gossip about the rest of the school’s population, yet he was interested in what was being said about him. He didn’t often venture outside his usual group of Slytherins, so he didn’t know exactly what he expected to hear.

Following the loud whispers, Theo stopped, looming in the shadows once he was able to make out the dark figures of students huddled in one of the many rows of books.

“Sure Theo might be one of the most attractive boys in our year, but his head is so far up his own arse, it’s a wonder he can see straight.” A voice practically snarled as its owner leaned lazily against one of the shelves.

Theo felt himself immediately tense. Is that what they thought now? His fists clenched as he refrained from crashing through the shelves to give these snots a piece of his mind.

“Honestly, being an arrogant prick isn’t something to be proud of. He’s just like every other Slytherin who makes being a pure blood their only personality trait.” Another voice adds.

“Oh fuck off you two.”

Theo’s ears perk up, surprised to hear your voice join the chatter.

“Please, like you’re one to talk y/n. You’re practically blinded by desperation. Theo Nott is an utter prat and he treats you like shit. Have some bloody self respect.”

“I’m not desperate, you git. And Theodore isn’t an arrogant prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of pride. It’s not like you see him going around bragging about how amazing he is. If you’re going to talk about arrogant pricks, talk about Cormac. Or Draco even.”

“Whatever. That still doesn’t excuse his behavior towards you. I don’t understand why you insist on embarrassing yourself when he clearly has no interest in you. But he’s too much of a coward to say anything.”

“Oh for the love of- Theodore doesn’t owe anyone anything. Me included. I do the things I do because I can and I want to, and quite frankly it isn’t anyone else’s business but my own. So why don’t you two get your heads out of your own arses and stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about Theodore.”

With that, Theo listened as your footsteps slowly got quieter as you stomped away, your words ringing in his head.

Theo had never been in love before. But in that moment, he was beginning to see the appeal. Fuck that was hot as hell.

For Theo, it all spiraled down from there as he finally began to see you. Really see you. And not just as some girl who had a silly crush on him.

It started with the notes. He hadn’t noticed before, but it wasn’t just him that you’d slip a note to in the hallway. After one particularly difficult transfiguration exam, Theo watched as you dropped a note with a chocolate candy attached into the bags of your friends.

Another day, he arrived to potions early to find you carefully setting up his station as he hovered in the doorway. After class, he didn’t rush out like he normally would and instead watched as you quietly slipped an extra copy of your notes to a student he knew struggled with the class.

And while you weren’t exactly blowing kisses to all of your friends across the Great Hall, Theo began to notice the way you didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around your friends, hugging them tightly when you got excited. Or grasping onto a hand as you wandered through Hogsmeade, arms swinging in carefree bliss.

It was about a month after Theo had begun his silent observations that he began to feel it. The slow pull away as your presence began to fade from his life. He almost didn’t notice at first. It had been about a week since he’d last found a note in his bag, or parcel waiting for him on his seat. You still smiled brightly at him if your eyes met from across the Great Hall, but now that he thought about it, Theo couldn’t remember the last time you’d blown a kiss his way.

It all came to a head the day Theo walked into History of Magic to see one of your friends sitting next to you in his usual seat, chattering away.

“Nice mate, they finally get the message?” Mattheo asks with a grin, elbowing him in the ribs.

Theo remained silent as he followed his friend to a seat in the back, eyes not leaving the spot where he should be sitting.

It continued on like this for what Theo thought was eternity. Salazar he missed you. Weeks passed filled with sleepless nights where he would stare at the ceiling contemplating where he had gone wrong. At the very beginning really, he thought dryly, remembering his initial feelings of agitation and annoyance. He wished he could go back and give himself a good smack upside the head.

The day Theo passed you in the hall and you didn’t even spare him a passing glance was the day Theo finally broke.

“Lorenzo.” He said, slamming the door of their dormitory open, startling his roommate.

“Theodore?”

Theo glares at the use of the name.

“You’re the romantic type. How do I do it?” Theo asked as he stomped his way over to his bed.

With a bemused look, Enzo swings around to look at his roommate, wondering if one of the ghosts had somehow possessed him.

“You want to know. How to do romance?” Enzo asks slowly, not fully believing he’d heard his friend correctly. Theo was probably one of the most emotionally detached people he’d ever met.

“Yes. Y/n. I want to make it up to her.”

"I thought we didn't like her?" Enzo said, growing more concerned for his friend's mental state by the minute.

"We didn't. But now we do, and I want to make things right."

Enzo blinked. Oh this was not going to be easy.

As you sat in the court yard with a group of your friends, textbooks in hand as you attempted to study for the charms test the next day, your eyes flickered momentarily as a sea of green wandered by. Quickly you look away before your eyes could meet Theo’s and you try to turn your attention back to your friend’s idle chatter.

It had been what? A month since you’d stopped actively seeking out the boy’s attention. Maybe more. And you missed him. His sarcastic smiles and pretty eyes that seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare.

But you were also tired. Mostly tired of the snarky comments. “Have some self respect.” “So desperate.” The voices of your classmates echoed in your head, and eventually you began to draw back. You knew he’d noticed. You’d seen his eyebrows furrow in confusion that day you’d let your friend sit beside you in class. A pang of guilt washing over you. But it’s not like he showed any signs of wanting things to go back to the way they were. So you simply stayed away. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.

Your thoughts followed you as you eventually made your way back to your dormitory, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and disappear. As you approach your bed however, you make out something that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left that morning. A gorgeous bouquet of little white flowers wrapped in thick brown paper, tied off with a silky emerald green ribbon. Stamped on the corner of one of the brown folds, the letters TN shown at you in gold curls.

“Oh those are beautiful!” Your roommate gasps when she sees the flowers. “Lily of the valley! Those can symbolize renewal ya know. Usually they’re given as like, an apology of sorts, or if someone wants to start over.” She tells you. Ever the herbology buff. “Who are they from?”

A smile grows on your lips as her words sink in and you press the flowers close to your chest.

“Just a special friend,” you reply.

After all the months of Theo's coldness towards you, you'd never quite allowed yourself to truly believe the boy would ever return your affection, but maybe things were beginning to look up.

Over the course of the next several days, you begin to notice little things that had Theodore’s name written all over them.

After the charms exam the following day, you find a note of encouragement written in Theo’s familiar scrawl dropped in your bag along with a bag of your favorite toffees. How he’d managed to get it there without you noticing was beyond you.

There were little things too. Your stations in herbology and astronomy were always set up and waiting for you when you walked into class. The book on ancient runes that you’d been searching for showed up on your bedside table. (You weren’t sure how he was doing that either, but you weren’t about to question it.) And there always seemed to be a comfortable smirk on Theodore’s face whenever your eyes wandered over to where he sat with his friends, eyes seemingly boring into you.

Now, you sat quietly in your own little nook of the library, quill in hand as you scribbled away at your ancient runes essay, the book Theo left you being quite helpful.

You were happy he'd found his way back into your life, happier still that he was actually making a point to be included in your life.

“You don’t mind do you?” A voice asks, startling you and causing ink to splatter against the parchment.

With shocked eyes, you look up to see Theodore standing next your table as if your thoughts had summoned him there. He sets his books down, frowning at your now ruined paper.

With a flick of his wand, the mess is gone.

“Sorry bout that,” he mutters, sitting down across from you.

You blink, not entirely convinced you’re not hallucinating.

“You know, I remember you being much more talkative,” he says, a sly smirk reaching across his face as you realize you’ve yet to say anything to the boy.

“I remember you being significantly less talkative,” you blurt out before quickly covering your mouth with your hand in horror.

To your relief, the boy in front of you lets out a low laugh.

"Fair enough. See you've been liking the book," he says, gesturing towards the open text.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to say something, thank you."

"Don't worry bout it. I never said thank you for all the things you did. Probably should've." He replies, looking down as he pulls out his own quill and parchment. "I am sorry by the way."

"For?" You ask, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"Everything. Or for doing nothing is probably more accurate," he says, flipping open his text book.

You can tell that he's nervous as he fidgets with the corners of the book's pages, and you desperately want to ease the tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you debate whether or not to say anything more, or go back to your essay. Finally, you look up at the boy that you had been chasing after for all these months, and remind yourself that he had actually been the one to go through all the trouble of seeking you out tonight.

Gathering your courage, you open your mouth to speak. "Theodore?"

"Yes, Bella?" he replies, eyes carefully following the lines of next.

"Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

His eyes snap up at this, and you see the familiar hint of red make it's way into his cheeks once more.

"Only if I can have my seat back in History of Magic." The boy replies.

"I think I can have that arranged."

Hi hi hi! I hope this lives up to all of your hopes and dreams, anon 🫶🏽

[hyperfixating-rn-brb]

The Good Omens Fandom has had a lot of fun recently with the knowledge of Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands on the bus at the end of season 1.

Soo here's everything that went through my head as I learned of it for the first time.

For that entire scene, Aziraphale is really far gone. He's dissociating so hard he can't even realize he's been sitting on a sword. Crowley is probably the only thing keeping him grounded.

They just narrowly stopped Armageddon after a showdown with literally Satan, and still can't let their guard down. For the first time ever, they're completely on their own side. Now they have to orchestrate a body swap to save both of them. They wouldn't just be killed, they'd be completely destroyed. Everything must go exactly according to plan, but how often does that actually happen?

And on top of that, his bookshop, his home, his safe place with the demon he has to pretend not to love is burned and gone.

Crowley is so incredibly gentle and reassuring this entire scene. He's been through so much trauma himself and has spent a lot of his existence shielding the angel from it, hoping to protect some of his innocence and naivete. Crowley is absolutely familiar with every symptom of PTSD and anxiety.

Now he has to see his sweet angel see such a small bit of the horrors of heaven and hell and start to crumble inside. He's going to do his dam best to try and help Aziraphale through it. Speaking softly, ("the bookshop burned down... remember?) slowly and carefully, gradually helping to pull the angel back to reality, reminding him that he's there and will help ground him.

They get on the bus, and sit next to each other. 11 years ago, they sat nearby but separated while Crowley begs Aziraphale to help him prevent the Apocalypse. Now they are sitting together. Both an act of reassurance and unity.

Crowley sits first, Aziraphale could so easily just sit across from him, behind or in front. But he chooses to sit right next to him. And hold his hand. Aziraphale desperately needs to be near to the *former* demon he loves, to hold him, to make sure they won't be separated.

In the book, their famous lines of "none of this would have worked out if you weren't, deep down, just a bit of a good person" and "just enough of a b*stard to be worth liking" came as Satan rose from the earth, as a goodbye in case they were destroyed.

Luckily, that didn't happen and they survived. Armaggedon was stopped. But the angel is still so anxious of losing Crowley. So he chooses to reach out, to anchor himself and reassure himself that Crowley is still there beside him and that they are okay, at least for a few minutes.

And Crowley let him. He knows how badly Aziraphale needs him, he needs the angel just as much. He knows how badly he craved an anchor and support system as he was first abused and traumatized by his Fall, then further by Hell. So he's going to continue being there for Aziraphale, doing everything he can to make his angel feel safe and comfortable.

Over the next few years, Aziraphale would become so much more comfortable reaching out and touching Crowley. Leaning into him, resting a hand on his shoulder or briefly touching his chest. Somehow both reassuring himself that the former demon was still there, and reminding Crowley that he's still there for him at the same time.

Then Crowley becomes more comfortable with the touch, leaning into the angel by himself. No longer flinching at a sudden graze of a hand or reassuring squeeze.

That one moment of the two holding hands on the bus cemented so much of their relationship. "The last few years, not really..." all started on that bus the moment Aziraphale chose to sit down next to Crowley.

edited: at first this said "new knowledge" because I just found out about this all the other day, and wrote this up at 3 AM, and didn't really fact check when this knowledge became well known. I've only really been a GO fan since maybe 2021, and only really started being active in the fandom during the last few months, so a lot of info that is fairly well known is still generally new to me. soo yeah this was edited :)

source for anyone asking for it!

[fastandcarlos]

Forgotten Thing : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: you know just how busy max is, and you understood too, only now you're starting to feel like the forgotten thing in his life

The sound of light snores greeted you as you walked into the apartment, unable to stop your eyes from rolling. Your heart raced as you slipped your shoes off, dropping your bag to the ground with a loud thud, not caring about the figure asleep in your living room.  

“Max,” you called out, standing to the side of the sofa with your arms folded across your chest. 

The sound of your voice had him stirring, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. A smile was on his face for a moment until Max noticed how nice you looked, eyes going wide in horror when he remembered that he had promised to pick you up from work. 

“That was a lovely walk home,” you sarcastically told him, taking a seat on the end of the sofa, “at least you got some rest though, that’s what matters, right?” 

The frustration was clear in your voice as you found yourself let down by Max again. It was becoming a pretty normal feeling for you, to be given empty promises and assured of things that you knew that Max wouldn’t be able to follow through. 

“Don’t be mad, please,” Max asked of you, sitting himself up. “I only planned on closing my eyes for a few minutes, and then I just lost track of time. I mean, all you had to do was walk home from work, it’s hardly the most difficult job in the world. 

Your head shook at how dismissive Max was. “The walk home didn’t bother me Max, it’s the fact that you promised you’d be there. You keep promising and not delivering, it’s like I’m some forgotten, unimportant part of your life.” 

Max brushed his hands over his face as he tried to wake himself up, not quite understanding what you were so fed up about. “I’ve been so busy at work recently I obviously just needed the sleep. We can’t all have a job like yours, some of us are working nonstop.” 

“I see, because my job is a walk in the park, isn’t it?” You scoffed. 

You couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing from Max, he’d always seemed to be supportive, but now you weren’t so sure. It was like the two of you were in competition, with Max clearly feeling like he was winning. 

“It’s not the same, how hard I work and how hard you work is very different. I’ve got a flight to catch early tomorrow morning and you’ve got the next two days off, so I’d say I’m slightly more important,” Max argued. 

Your mouth went wide in shock, letting go of a gasp. You didn’t recognise the man in front of you, the man who usually was so caring and sympathetic had turned into someone who couldn’t care less about you. 

“I’ve always looked after you Max, done absolutely anything for you. It’s a shame you can’t do the same for me. I might as well just leave, that’s how you make me feel,” you spoke. 

Max’s eyes widened once again, his body tensing up. You stood up, feeling Max's eyes watching your every move, slowly backing towards the front door. 

“You wouldn’t actually leave,” Max sniggered. 

“Why not? What is there to make me stay anymore?” You challenged, your voice getting louder. “Why shouldn’t I go somewhere where I actually feel valued and appreciated rather as if I’m nothing.” 

“Love,” Max whispered, brushing a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel that way, it’s just been so hard for the past couple of weeks. I really did intend on picking you up, I set an alarm and everything, but I must’ve just slept right through it.” 

“If you were tired or stressed Max, you should’ve told me, I’d never have expected you to pick me up if I knew,” you sighed, walking back into the room again. 

“But you’re right, I do keep making promises that I can’t keep, so I wanted to pick you up to prove to you that I care.” Max tapped the space beside him on the sofa, inviting you to sit beside him as his hand rested against your leg. 

“I know that you care about me,” you assured him. 

Max’s head shook, “but I’ve not shown you that, when you’re constantly here caring for me, I just take it for granted, we’re supposed to care for each other.” 

You smiled weakly across at Max, knowing better than anyone just how hard he worked. For all his faults, you could never fault how loved he made you feel, even if his mind was elsewhere sometimes. Your hand reached out and pressed against the side of his face, lips pressing against his cheek, unaware of the way Max’s heart raced with relief at the feeling of your lips on him.  

“If you’re free this weekend, do you fancy coming to the race?” Max asked you, “I’ll make sure that we can spend some time together when I’m not needed at the garage. We can explore, have a proper look around.” 

Your head nodded at his suggestion, excited by the thought of being at a race again. It had been a while, you were never quite sure if Max wanted you there or not, but now he couldn’t imagine himself going to the race without you. 

“You don’t need to do this, I know how hard race weekends are,” you assured him, squeezing against his hand, “I don’t need anything to be made up to me.” 

“But you do,” Max defended, knowing just how badly he’d treated you. “I want to make sure you know that I care, I’m going to make sure that we have the best weekend together too.” 

Max moved his free arm around your frame as he pulled you into his side, pressing several gentle kisses against the top of your head. The hold he had on you was more loving than anything you’d felt from him in a while, letting you know just how sorry he was. 

Once he was done, Max kept his head resting on top of yours. “Whatever you want to do whilst we’re there this weekend, we’ll do. I’ll even drive you around and pick you up from the paddock.” 

“Max,” you whispered, but he quickly shushed you, knowing what you were about to say. 

“Don’t tell me that you understand that it’s alright, because it’s not,” he laughed, reading your mind perfectly. “I’ve been a terrible boyfriend and that needs to be put right.” 

“I do understand, you work so hard.” 

“And so do you,” Max responded, “I never should’ve made it sound like your job doesn’t matter, because it does, you’re the hardest working person I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologising,” you grinned, pressing your head further into Max’s side, “I know how sorry you are Max.” 

A hum came from him as he leant back on the sofa, cuddling you into his side as he draped his legs over the top of yours. 

“Let’s sleep for a bit,” you suggested, placing your hand on his chest, “I know how much better you sleep when you’ve got someone to cuddle.” 

Max nodded in agreement with you, “you can’t be telling anyone how much I love being cuddled to sleep, people won’t think I’m cool anymore.” 

“Leave me stranded at work again and I might just reveal all your secrets,” you teased. 

“You wouldn’t,” Max challenged, watching your head nod out of the corner of his eye. 

“You wouldn’t want to find out.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[halfmoonaria]

to see you

pairing: sam carpenter & reader

summary: sam sleeps so she can see you, 'cause she hates to wait so long.

word count: 3.1k

Sam had never had nightmares.

Not as a kid, not after watching scary movies with Tara. Not after Richie's betrayal, or even after facing multiple Ghostfaces.

In fact, there were times she wondered if she was living in a nightmare instead of just having them. The terror and chaos of her life often felt surreal, like something out of a twisted dream.

Sleep had always been her refuge, a place where the horrors of her waking life couldn't reach her.

But a few weeks ago, that changed.

The nightmares crept in, so vivid and intense that she could no longer tell where reality ended and the nightmares began. The terror felt as real as any Ghostface attack she had faced, blurring the lines between her waking life and the horrors in her mind.

It started subtly at first—restless nights, an uneasy feeling as she drifted off. Then, the vivid dreams began.

Dark, haunting, relentless.

They felt different from anything she had ever experienced, filled with an unshakable sense of dread that lingered long after she woke.

Each night, the dreams grew more intense. She would find herself back in the old theater, shadows stretching out like claws, and a gnawing fear she couldn't place.

It was as if the nightmares were trying to tell her something, dragging her back to a place she wanted desperately to forget.

During the day, she could push the thoughts away, bury herself in distractions. But as soon as she closed her eyes, the darkness would pull her back in, forcing her to confront the memories she had tried so hard to suppress.

Sam had always prided herself on her strength, her ability to face any challenge head-on. But these nightmares were different.

They felt deeply personal, laced with guilt and regret. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape them.

Just like now, as she lay in her bed. The room was dimly lit by the early morning light filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows that only seemed to deepen her unease.

She stirred slightly, her mind caught between the lingering dream and waking reality.

And then, she saw you, sitting on the side of her bed near her feet.

You looked just as you had the last time she saw you; eyes wide with fear, your clothes soaked in blood.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she blinked, trying to clear her vision. Slowly, she pushed herself up, her breath hitching as she took in the sight of you.

Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, she was lost in them. Those eyes, so hauntingly beautiful, were the first thing she had fallen in love with. They held a depth and emotion that spoke volumes, even now in the quiet of the room.

She remembered how they used to change shape when you laughed or smiled, crinkling at the corners in a way that made her heart flutter. She hadn't appreciated those small details when you were actually still here, too blinded by her own fears and suspicions.

But now that you were gone, those memories were all she had left. The light in your eyes, the warmth they held when they met hers, the soft wrinkles that formed at their edges—these were the things she cherished and missed the most.

She glanced around the room, searching for something to anchor her to the present.

The walls were lined with reminders of the past—photos of her with Tara, mementos of happier times. But all they did was remind her of what she had lost, of who she had lost.

Sam reached out, her hand trembling, but the closer she got, the more distant you seemed.

The room around her felt like it was closing in, the shadows growing darker, more menacing.

She wanted to speak, to say something, anything, to make it right, but the words caught in her throat. The silence between you was deafening, filled with all the things left unsaid.

Then, the silence shattered as you spoke, your voice a soft, chilling whisper.

"Sam." The way you said her name, cold and distant, sent shivers down her spine.

It almost looked as if you were looking at her, your eyes piercing through the veil of sleep and dream, anchoring her in this chilling reality.

The sound of it, so familiar yet not at all, twisted the knife of guilt deeper into her heart.

Sam's breath hitched as your gaze seemed to penetrate her very soul. Her mind raced, a whirlwind of regret and desperation.

"Y/n?" she finally managed to whisper, her voice cracking under the weight of the single word. "What are you doing here?"

Your expression remained unchanged, unreadable. The shadows around you seemed to pulse with each beat of her heart, enveloping you in an otherworldly darkness.

"I'm here because you need to remember," you replied, your voice echoing with an eerie calm.

"Remember what?" Sam asked, her fingers clenching into fists at her sides.

"You know," you said, the air around you growing colder. "Remember what happened that night."

Sam's mind flashed back to that fateful night, the memory she had tried so hard to bury. The old theater, the blood, the terror—everything came rushing back in a flood of overwhelming emotion.

"I remember," she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling. "I remember everything."

Sam didn't want to remember. She wanted to forget.

She wanted to forget about how she'd hesitated, about how she'd treated you, about what had ultimately happened to you.

But in moments like these, as your image haunted her dreams, she realized she never would. The memories were a relentless tide, surging back to drown her, reminding her that some things were impossible to bury.

In truth, she shouldn't have expected anything else. Life had a cruel way of reminding her of her failures.

The horror of that night, the way she had turned on you, suspected you, left you alone—it was all too harsh a reminder of her own shortcomings.

She had pushed you away, driven by fear and mistrust, and now she was left to face the consequences of her actions.

Your eyes never left hers, filled with a sorrowful intensity that made it impossible for her to look away. "Do you remember why I was alone that night?" you asked, your voice cutting through her defenses like a

How could she not? The echo of that night was a constant, cruel reminder, reverberating through her mind with every moment of silence.

The argument, the distrust, the way she had pushed you away—it replayed in her thoughts, relentless and unforgiving.

Every time she was alone, the memory surfaced, an insidious whisper in the quiet. It lingered in the gaps of conversation, haunting her when she was most vulnerable.

"I was scared and I screwed up," Sam said quietly. "I thought I was protecting Tara." She paused, her voice barely above a whisper. "And myself."

The words felt bitter on her tongue. As soon as they left her lips, Sam felt a wave of self-reproach wash over her. It sounded like she was admitting she was scared of you, as if you were the threat all along.

But that wasn't true; she had never truly been afraid of you. She felt foolish for implying it, knowing deep down that her fear had been misplaced, and now it was too late to make things right.

She noticed your expression change, the sorrow in your eyes deepening. Panic welled up inside her, and she began to ramble, desperate to explain.

"I was afraid," she admitted, her voice breaking. "I thought... I thought you might be Ghostface. I left you alone because I didn't trust you."

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She felt a deep sense of shame and guilt, wishing she could crawl out of her own skin. The weight of her mistakes pressed down on her, almost suffocating.

She dared to meet your gaze again, and for a moment, she saw the eyes she had once loved.

They were captivating—deep pools of warmth and vulnerability that had always drawn her in.

They held a beauty that made her heart ache, a softness that had once been a refuge from the chaos of her life.

But then, as she stared, the familiar tenderness seemed to twist and darken.

The eyes she had always known began to harden, the warmth replaced by an unsettling chill. What was once an intimate reflection of love and trust now seemed distant and cold, as if an impenetrable shadow had taken its place.

They looked nothing like the eyes she remembered, and she couldn't bring herself to think that it really was.

"Maybe a part of you wanted it to be me?" you said, your voice tinged with a sharp edge.

"You never fully believed in me," you continued, the harshness of your new gaze cutting through the room. "In your fear, you wanted to prove yourself right. Is that right?"

Sam's heart pounded in her chest, guilt tightening their grip.

A part of what you said was true, and that realization hit her like a punch to the gut forcing her to gulp.

She had trouble trusting you ever since you first got together, haunted by the betrayals of her past. Despite her hope that she'd eventually warm up and love you the way you deserved, the walls she had built remained firmly in place.

Throughout your relationship, her cruelty had taken many forms. She remembered the harsh words she had thrown at you in moments of insecurity, accusing you of things you never did.

The cold stares she gave you when you tried to get close, the way she dismissed your acts of kindness as if they were nothing. She had pushed you away, not just that night, but constantly, making you feel unwanted and unloved.

You had always been so kind, always doing little things to show you cared. She recalled the times you made her coffee in the morning, the meals you cooked when she was too tired, the small gifts you gave just to see her smile.

But instead of gratitude, she met your efforts with cold indifference. "I didn't ask for this," she'd often say, brushing you off as if your gestures meant nothing.

She recalled the nights you stayed up late to comfort her, only to be met with indifference. The times you planned thoughtful gestures to make her smile, which she brushed off with an unkind remark.

Every time she shut you out, every time she made you feel less than, it all came crashing down on her now, the weight of her actions suffocating.

"I never wanted it to be you. I just...I didn't know how to love you the way you loved me," she finally whispered, her voice breaking.

"Scared?" you replied, your voice a mix of anger and sorrow. "I understand fear, Sam. But I never understood why you directed it at me."

You looked at her with those haunting eyes, now filled with a pain that mirrored her own. "I loved you, and I only wanted to be there for you. But you pushed me away, treated me like an enemy."

The room seemed to grow colder as your words hung in the air. "I needed you, Sam. And you left me alone to die."

Sam's heart clenched painfully at your words, the truth of them striking deep. The weight of her guilt pressed down on her, almost suffocating. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, memories flooded her mind, pulling her back to the night that haunted her.

The fight had been fierce. Her mistrust was baseless, a projection of her own insecurities. She had accused you of being distant, of hiding something. When in reality, she was the one who had been acting off, but admitting that felt impossible. She blamed you, as she always did.

Her voice had been sharp, cutting through the air with cruel accusations. She remembered the way you had looked at her—hurt, confused, and trying to calm her down. You had reached out to touch her arm, your voice soft and soothing, but she had pulled away, anger flaring even more. She accused you of betraying her, of secrets that only existed in her mind.

You tried to reason with her, your eyes pleading for understanding. But she was too far gone in her rage, too blinded by her own fears to see the truth. You had stepped back, shoulders slumping in defeat as you realized she wouldn't listen.

Later, after everything had happened, she would remember the look in your eyes during that fight. The way you had looked at her with so much pain, so much confusion.

It was only after, in the quiet moments when she was alone with her thoughts, that she realized how deeply she had hurt you. You had looked at her as if trying to understand how she could even entertain the thought that it could be you.

Then after she had made the mistake of leaving you alone with a serial killer on the run. After she had fought off the Ghostfaces; who were revealed to be Quinn, Ethan, and Detective Bailey—and managed to escape with Tara, the relief of surviving felt hollow and incomplete.

She had been desperate to get to safety, to find a way out of the nightmare she was trapped in.

Eventually, she had found you,but the sight that greeted her was more harrowing than she had ever imagined.

The blood was everywhere, pooling around you, staining your clothes, and smeared across the floor. The sight was horrifying, a nightmarish tableau that she couldn't erase from her mind.

Your eyes, once so full of life, were bloodshot and terrified, darting around as if looking for help that wouldn't come. You were barely breathing, each shallow breath a struggle.

Your pretty clothes, which you had worn for the evening, were soaked in crimson, a stark contrast to their original color.

She had dropped to her knees beside you, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she tried to stop the bleeding with anything she could find. Her voice, usually so strong, had broken into desperate sobs as she called your name, begging you to stay with her.

But it had been too late. Your eyes had looked up at her, filled with pain and fear, before closing forever.

The horror of that moment, the overwhelming sense of loss and guilt, had never left her. It was a scene she replayed over and over, a reminder of her failures and the consequences of her distrust.

She had pushed you away, driven by fear, and in the end, she had lost you. And you never made her forget.

You made sure of it. Every single night.

She blinked, realizing with a jolt that you were still in front of her.

Usually, in her dreams, you'd be gone by now. You never stayed long. But here you were, your presence as haunting and real as ever.

Her throat felt dry, almost as if she was being choked, the suffocating sensation of the nightmare gripping her.

She swallowed hard, trying to find the strength to continue. "I'm sorry you don't get to be here.. I know how much you wanted to."

You had always found joy in the little things, always had a smile for her, no matter how cold she had been.

"I love you," she said, her voice barely audible. "I always did. I'm so sorry."

A tear slid down your cheek, glistening in the dim light, as you gazed at her with a sadness that seemed to encompass the entire room.

Sam's heart ached as she looked at you. Seeing you cry now, in this haunting, surreal moment, filled her with a profound regret. When you were alive, she had brushed off your tears, indifferent to your pain.

"Sam," you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of sorrow and frustration, "Why didn't you tell me this when I was alive?"

Sam's bottom lip began to tremble. She truly didn't know that to answer, if she said she did; she'd be lying. If she tried to excuse herself she would feel disgusted by her own words, and if she'd be silence, you'd say something else.

Although she didn't have time to answer, before you began to disintegrate. The edges of your form blurred, and your figure grew increasingly translucent.

Panic surged through Sam as she watched you slip away. "No, please," she begged, her voice cracking. "Don't go. Please, stay."

Her pleas were desperate, her hands reaching out to grasp the empty air where you had been. But it was too late. You vanished completely, leaving her alone in the cold, dark room.

She jolted awake, heart racing, drenched in sweat. The room was silent and still, the early morning light casting soft shadows on the walls. She sat up, gasping for air, her mind reeling from the vivid terror of the dream.

With a start, Sam woke up, heart pounding, drenched in sweat. She sat up, gasping for air, her mind reeling from the vivid terror of the dream.

The room around her was silent and still, the only thing being heard was her panting and the morning birds chirping outside her window.

The air felt heavy with the remnants of your presence. The warmth and scent that lingered in the air, traces of you, became a haunting echo in the emptiness.

As if you'd actually been there.

Everything had felt so real. It always did.

Which was why most nights, she slept to see you. She couldn't bear to wait until death's cold grip might finally reunite you, however distant that might be.

She went to bed in hopes of seeing you, to beg for the forgiveness she couldn't ask for in life.

Even though it was nightmares, and even though it wasn't the real you, she saw you.

And it felt real.

[grimm909]

Red Phone - Part 2

I ended up forgetting to include a very important fact here the first time I posted RP! It turns out that the story, in part, is inspired by a South Korean film called "The Call." I highly recommend watching it if you like horror and drama. It's even in the Netflix catalogue! I will also include this information in the first part and then in the third part.

I don't want to take too long here, so thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the comments you made! This always encourages me and makes me happy ☺️💖

Also thank you generously for your support @ryebread0605 😘

As always, english is not my native language. So I apologize if there are any errors.

Happy reading!

WARNINGS: age difference, non-con, kidnapping, horror, mental breakdown, murder, forced pregnancy

The red phone rings at four o'clock in the afternoon.

Sitting at your desk doing your college homework, you put your notebook aside and answer the phone that was on the table.

“Hello, Floyd!” You greet him happily after answering the call.

“Hey, you seem excited.” He notes your good cheer, while he himself continues to use a more relaxed and meek tone. “Did anything good happen?”

“Almost that, yes.” You momentarily remember the night you spent with Ace, but as quickly as that thought came, you immediately pushed it aside. “But also because I’m glad you called me.”

“Hey, I told you, didn't I? Would call to find out more about the future.”

“Of course, I remember.” You respond complacently and with your other free hand pull the notebook back in front of your face. “What do you want to know?”

“Hmmm…” The boy seems thoughtful on the other end of the line, faced with the infinite possibilities. “Who is the most famous player in the NBA today?”

“Do you like basketball?” You ask, pressing the keys.

“Yeep~” Floyd states in a more humorous tone, indicating that you had hit the right spot. “I also play. It’s one of my favorite hobbies.”

“Do you think about playing professionally?”

“I've already thought about that, as I've thought about many other things. But I know it’s a matter of time before it gets boring.”

“Ah, I understand what this is. I consider myself someone who is adept at several things, but can easily get bored of them and move on to something else.” You say, remembering the various things you liked to watch or play, before simply putting them aside after they became repetitive, boring or after finding something much more interesting.

“Eehh~ you read my mind.” He agrees excitedly.

“Another coincidence, then.” You play around and then go on to read information about some of today's most famous players, listening to Floyd humming happily on the other end of the line. “What else do you want to know?”

“About Jade.” He responds immediately. “What else did you find out about him?”

“In addition to what I said about him being a partner in that restaurant, there were many photos of natural landscapes. However, more specifically…”

“Mushrooms.” Floyd finishes his reasoning before you can finish it yourself. His annoyance on the other end of the line was noticeable in the tone of his voice full of disgust, as if each syllable of the word 'mushrooms' was already cursed in itself. “I thought this was just temporary"

“Let’s change the subject then.” You quickly think of an alternative, not wanting to ruin his good mood. “What kind of music do you like?”

“I like different styles, but lately I've been listening to some rock bands.”

“Cool, I like it too.” You say, and then a brilliant idea springs from your mind. “Tell me a band you like and I’ll show you a new song from them!”

"Serious? Hehehe!” Floyd seems ecstatic at the idea, laughing happily on the other end of the line. “It looks like we’re going to get along really well~”

[…]

You stayed talking to Floyd for over two hours, only hanging up when you told him you needed to study. He didn't seem happy about it, insisting that you continue talking about future events. However, you were firm in your decision and reassured him by saying that he could always call you the next day. Despite himself, the boy agreed because he couldn't force you to do anything. Floyd was just a voice from the past, after all.

The study, however, was a blatant lie. You had received a message from Ace on your digital cell phone, in which he asked you to go to a specific address to be together again. And now, with your mind a little more balanced without your hormones getting in the way of your reasoning, you weren't sure if you should do this.

A part of you felt quite dirty and a little guilty about having sex with a married man. To make matters worse, in the bed he shared with his wife for years. However, another part of you, that selfish and perverse part that existed in the darkest corner of your mind, felt terribly excited at the idea of ​​meeting Ace in secret and spending quality time with him again.

It was so wrong and exactly for this why it was so good.

Ace had given you his word of a future divorce and you clung to that as a safe haven, to try and convince yourself that this wasn't as bad as it seemed.

You still pondered for a few minutes, before responding to him with an “ok” and stating that you would meet him in an hour.

Without wasting any more time, you took a shower, put on one of your best clothes and put on makeup in a simple way with just a reddish lipstick on your lips and dark shading. Not wanting to pamper yourself too much, you knew that later your makeup would be completely smudged for not very holy reasons.

When you went downstairs, your parents obviously asked where you were going all dressed up and your answer was to say that you would meet some friends, without an exact time to arrive. Your father was even kind enough to offer you a ride, but you immediately declined the offer, saying the meeting place was nearby.

It was a lie.

After walking a few meters to trick your parents, you had to call an Uber to take you to the address. It wasn't a surprise when you realized the meeting place was at a motel.

You got out of the car and immediately saw Ace in front of the establishment, waving at him.

“Wow, you look beautiful.” He is surprised to see you, taking a long and blatant look from top to bottom, for a moment focusing on the neckline that left part of your breasts exposed, before looking back at your face.

"Thanks." You respond shyly and feel your cheeks heat up, clearly having a weakness for sincere compliments. “Can we go in soon? I don’t want someone I know to see me.” You look around worriedly, immediately wrapping your hands around Ace's arm to pull him towards the motel's glass door.

“Wow, someone is really in a hurry.” Ace mocks with a mischievous smile, still standing in the same place like a statue. He just moves to wrap arms around your body and pull her against his chest. You shiver when you feel the redhead warm breath against the sensitive skin of your ear. “Was our fuck the other day that good?” Ace whispers mischievously, his husky voice giving you awkward sensations.

However, the trigger for your face to explode red is when you feel a suggestive pinch on your ass. “Stop playing with me!” You scream, even though you weren't really angry, but rather embarrassed.

You move away from him and stamp your foot on the ground, upset by Ace's cluelessness. He was the one who should be most worried about being discovered or recognized by someone. Instead, here was Trappola, mocking your caution and messing with you to boot.

“Hahaha. Okay, okay.” He raises his hands up in surrender, but still laughing at your energetic reaction. “I promise I’ll behave.”

It was an obvious lie, but you still believe him.

Without further ado from Ace, he affectionately wraps a hand around your waist and walks with you into the establishment. The receptionist who was inside, behind a marble counter, takes a long and not at all discreet look at the two of you, visibly judging the obvious age difference. It didn't help that you looked more like a sixteen-year-old teenager than a twenty-year-old adult.

“Did you see the way that woman looked at us?” Ace asks in the middle of the room corridors after making payment and receiving the key.

“She was probably thinking about whether or not she should call the police.” You joked, giving a lighthearted laugh.

Ace snorted in annoyance at the joke, but he soon followed up his morally dubious humor with a chuckle as he looked at you.

“It’s here.” He says as he observes that the label glued to the key had the same number as the door, unlocking it and gesturing for you to do the honors of entering. “Ladies first.” Ace winks in amusement and you innocently fall for his joke, before walking through the door and feeling a second pinch on your ass.

“Ahh!” You let out a scream of surprise, but quickly composed yourself as you made an annoyed expression and turned to face Ace, who was laughing behind you like a stupid teenager. “You said you would behave.”

“Of course, but that’s outside.” He enters the room and locks the door behind him. “There’s no one else here for you to be scared of, right?” He asks in a whisper full of cynicism, as he slowly approaches you.

“Don't make fun of my face!" You scream, pretending to be angry to try and hide the embarrassment that spread across your face.

Ace was a damn smartass who wouldn't keep quiet until someone shut him up. And, apparently, you had no choice but to be that “someone.”

Going on the attack, you grab his shirt and pull him towards you, silencing him with a sudden kiss before another provocation leaves your lips. Ace seems surprised at first, but kisses back by opening his mouth and allowing both tongues to meet.

The warm kiss only lasts a few seconds before you pull away from Trappola and ask him to sit on the bed, who promptly does so with a palpable expectation of what you would do next.

Although you were shy at first, you need to swallow this feeling reluctantly to get closer to him and bend your body until you were close to the redhead's ear: “Take off your belt."

As expected, Ace did so quickly and let him fall to the ground, opening his legs in anticipation of what would happen in a few seconds. He stares at you with obvious longing, biting his lower lip as he waits patiently for you to make your next move.

Without wasting time, you kneel in front of Trappola and take your inexperienced hands to the fly of his pants. When you open it, Ace slightly lifts his hips so you can pull down his pants along with his white underwear with a heart print.

A giggle escapes your lips and you decide that you couldn't let this opportunity pass you by. “Little hearts? How cute." You scoff, feeling refreshed when you notice the blush that immediately appears on Ace's cheeks.

Revenge has never been so sweet.

You bring your mouth closer to his already half-hard cock and give Ace's glans a short lick. This one, who couldn't help but notice her pink lips as they approached the tip of his cock, the small and simple touch was able to make him let out a small sigh. He imagines beforehand, how your little mouth wrapped around his dick, would be so perfect to relieve him.

You slowly start to shelter Trappola's penis and taste it more intensely, realizing that the taste wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. A little more relaxed in light of this fact, you close your eyes and begin to make initially slow movements back and forth, only sucking half of his length. Of course you had never done that in your entire life, but at least you were aware that you shouldn't use your teeth under any circumstances. That had to be worth something.

Ace closes his eyes and subtly throws his head up when he feels that half of his member has been sheltered. And it got even better with those back and forth movements you started to make. Although slow, they were like a massage on his penis.

You looked up and enjoyed seeing him being so resigned, completely at the mercy of your whims. You also loved hearing him moan, and as much as Ace's beautiful sighs were similar to a beautiful symphony to your ears, you longed to hear more.

With that thought in mind, you used your tongue to focus on the most sensitive point, licking the glans greedily and from this action feeling a salty liquid in your mouth, which you identified as pre-cum. Your back and forth movements also became a little faster than normal, which made you get what you wanted as soon as the redhead's moans intensified.

You were doing your best not to interrupt the blowjob, but you weren't yet experienced enough to be able to breathe through your nose and suck Ace so eagerly. Inevitably, after a few seconds, you had to separate your lips from the redhead's cock to take a few sips of air.

“Don’t stop.” Ace dictates with the heavy breathing.

You quickly understand that it wasn't a request, but rather an order when he abruptly grabs your hair to bring you back towards his cock, forcing the entire length down your throat in a single thrust inside.

Poor, foolish thing you were, who mistakenly thought were in control of the situation.

You patted Ace's knee to make him let go of his head, but he wasn't paying attention, or was simply categorically ignoring you. Definitely the latter, as he starts to force his dick down your throat several times.

As you choked on his penis, Ace let moans and sighs louder than the previous ones escape your mouth, revealing the pleasure he felt in an explicit and exclusive way for you. And realizing that there was no way to get his dick out of your mouth without making him cum first, you have no choice but to try to relax your own throat so you can take him in.

Lost amidst thoughts of lust, possession and desire, Ace had nothing to complain about. The speed was incredibly perfect, frantic, and his tongue made the right movements to make him intoxicated to the point of disconnecting from the world and just moaning more and more, muffled but still loud. The redhead could feel that he was getting closer and closer to the peak, all through that inexperienced and delicious little mouth of you.

Holding his bottom lip with his teeth, Ace allows himself to melt into the mouth that he has come to love even more. Such pleasure is felt by the redhead, that he feels his vision become slightly blurred and dark, letting those fantastic spasms grace every cell of his body.

You swallow every drop of his semen, completely unwillingly. It wasn't horrible, but it was far from good. And after using your throat as a cum dump, Ace lets go of your hair and you finally free yourself from his cock, moving away from it and breathing heavily, tired after all that exercise you had done with your mouth.

“Ace, you’re an asshole.” You cursed him after normalizing your breathing, visibly upset. “Did you want to choke me with your dick?”

“Hey, I will reward you.” Ace smiles suspiciously gently, before grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into a kiss, not seeming to care about the taste of himself present in your mouth.

You feel like biting him as a form of revenge, but end up giving up because you do not want to break a contact as intimate and pleasant as that.

“Now it’s my turn.” Ace says seductively after breaking the kiss, licking his lower lip in clear provocation.

Oh, heavens, you were going to hell because of this man.

[...]

Floyd called you at two o'clock the next day, with just one more day to go until his probable death.

“Have you fixed the bike yet?” It was the first thing you said after answering the call.

“Yep~”

“You’re not going out with her tomorrow, are you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay at home all day.” He soothes. “The only way I could end up dying in my own house is if a meteor hit it.”

“Be careful, okay?” You ask, afraid that something else might happen. “I really don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You’re so cute, worrying about someone you barely know.”

"Really? I don’t think that, I consider you a friend.” You admit it honestly.

“Eeehh, so you called yourself my friend without my consent?” The boy lets out a chuckle on the other end of the line. “Bad girl.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You speak awkwardly, the regret of your own words knocking on the door. Maybe it was too early to put a title on the relationship you had with the voice on the other end.

“Hehe, you took my joke too seriously.” Floyd comments relaxedly after noticing how worried you seemed. “I’m just kidding, kidding.”

“Phew.” A sigh of relief leaves your lips.

“Nee, nee~ what do you think will happen when the future changes?” Floyd asks, excited about the possibilities. “Do you think you’ll still be living on here?”

“Hard to say. But if your parents only moved because of the tragedy, then they will probably still be here.” You comment, not thinking much about it at first. “And me, well, in my old house or somewhere else. That's what I think at the moment, changes in the past can cause infinite possibilities in the future or even a time lapse, who knows…

“Boring~” Floyd grumbles. “You’re a nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd.” You defend yourself, outraged by the boy's derogatory comment. “I just love time travel movies. You never watched-…”

Your words die in your throat, a sudden, silent astonishment that makes you pale from one second to the next.

You finally realize that realizing an alternate future would mean never meeting Ace. Even the memories of the two of you together could be erased from his mind, as if they had never occurred. And in fact, they wouldn't happen.

From the beginning you knew that things could change and you hadn't cared so much about it, but now it was different. Maybe you didn't love he yet, but you definitely felt something for him that went beyond physical attraction, even before you had sex with Ace.

“Hey, you okay? You were suddenly quiet.” Floyd asks, his tone showing genuine concern.

“I need to hang up, sorry.”

You don't give Floyd enough time to ask why, before quickly hanging up the phone on him. You would apologize later, especially now that the boy would have all the time in the world to live a happy and comfortable life, at the expense of his memories with Ace.

Wait, were you really starting to regret possibly saving a life, just because of a passion that would predictably, one time or another, go wrong?

When you realize this, you feel even worse. It wasn't right to choose between the two, but here you were, which in the most disgusting part of your core you were rooting for, practically praying, that the next day nothing would change, even if it meant never getting any calls from your friend Floyd again.

You shake your head in denial, hating your own thoughts. It was still better to let go of his unspecified relationship with the redhead than to let someone die out of pure selfishness.

You weren't like that, you didn't want to be like that.

You drop the red phone on your desk and decide to leave the house to get some fresh air, convinced that this could clear your mind.

[...]

You were sleeping when the red phone rang at midnight.

Groggy with sleep, you struggle to get up from your warm and cozy bed, walking towards the desk where your phone rested.

you catch him, but don't answer. Possessing the knowledge that it must be that strange voice, it is your preference to not want to talk to him anymore after the incident with the doll.

“If you keep going, he’ll come get you.”

You remember the warning she gave and an unpleasant sensation rises throughout your bone marrow. You immediately decline the call and place the phone on the table again, returning to bed.

The moment your head hits the pillow, that's when that damn device resonates again. Annoyed, but also afraid, you get up again and this time open the back of the phone to remove the battery from inside, aware that this way no one else could disturb your rest or test your sanity.

You rest both objects on the surface of the desk and turn your back to go back to sleep, thus having a wonderful night's sleep without any further interruptions.

Or…

That would be the case, if the ringing of that cursed telephone hadn't resounded through the room again.

Your breath comes out ragged in sudden astonishment and your eyes widen in clear terror, remaining stagnant in place with nothing but the most genuine feeling of fear, almost as if that old device would swallow you whole if you dared to face it again.

But you have no choice.

Fearfully, you turn around, finding nothing more than the red phone itself continually beeping. Next to it, the battery that was supposed to stop it working when removed, but apparently not serving its purpose.

There were no monsters on here, but your terror doesn't calm down when you notice your bedroom window is open. And you don't remember leaving her like that.

You swallow hard and approach the window, looking through it to see if someone was snooping around your house. Luckily, finding nothing more than just the emptiness of the night.

You quickly walk away and close the window. In addition to locking it, cover the windows with the blind.

Turning your attention to the phone that continues to ring incessantly, from inside your wardrobe you take out a sweatshirt and use it to wrap the object, then storing it inside one of the desk drawers.

You go back to bed and try to ignore the muffled ringing, which persists for the rest of the night.

[...]

Floyd would die today.

Although you searched the internet for more information about his death, the time of the accident had not been specified, only the date and how it occurred. You could just wait for the boy's phone call or simply for an alternative time, in which you would end up waking up in your old house and perhaps with no memories of any of it.

Honestly, a phone call was much more desirable, despite the scare you experienced the night before because of it.

However, it is better to forget about past events and start checking your window every night before going to sleep, or you would become paranoid. In the end, a phone working even without a battery wasn't even as bizarre as the idea of ​​talking to someone from the past.

Your digital cell phone rings with a message notification and you realize it's from Ace, who once again asked you to meet him, this time at his house. You are quick to respond.

2: 14 PM And your wife?

2:14 PM Ace: She's at her parents' house with Alice. We can spend some time alone, what do you think?

14h14 PM Shouldn't you be working?

2:15 PM Ace: Day off, baby

14h15 PM It's okay then. I'll be there in thirty minutes

2:16 PM But be quick to open the door when I ring the doorbell! My parents can't see me coming into your house >.<

14h16 PM Ace: Ok

A huge smile adorns your lips and you let out small laughs of happiness, ecstatic at the idea of ​​being able to see him one last time before the weather probably changes.

But maybe you would still receive some calls from Floyd, so it would be appropriate to take the red phone with you to Ace's house. So, you do it, placing it inside a small black bag next to your digital cell phone.

You dress up in an average way so as not to arouse suspicion and then go downstairs, telling your mother that you were going to the library to study a little. Believing your lie, she just tells you to take care of yourself and releases you without any questions.

You walk through the front door, before checking to make sure your mother isn't close behind and running to the other side of the street. You ring the bell at the redhead's house, and it doesn't take him more than five seconds to open the door for you.

“I feel like I’m committing a crime.” You say in an amused tone, quickly stepping inside his house and feeling less alert the moment you hear him close the door.

“I missed you.” Ace states as he places both hands on your waist, inducing you to turn around and face him.

“It hasn’t even been that long since we were last together.” You refer to the day at the motel, involving your arms circling around Ace's neck. He leans in to press his lips to yours and you close your eyes in anticipation, receiving a gentle, loving peck. It takes a lot of your self-control not to give in when the redhead brushes his tongue against your lower lip, because you knew that he clearly already had ulterior motives in wanting to spice up that kiss. You would end up in his bed again, if you weren't more cunning than that naught guy. And although it was a really tempting idea, you didn't want all your romantic moments with him to be summed up just in sex, especially this moment, which could be your last. Therefore, you push him away by, gently pushing his chest and taking distance from his lips, looking him directly in the eyes. “Can we just watch a movie or something?”

Ace looks surprised at first, almost disappointed. But he's quick to cover it up, by softening his expression and giving you a smile so you wouldn't notice, even though it was a little late.

“Okay, fine.” Ace removes his hands from your waist, but he doesn't move away. Quite the contrary, the older man wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding your to the sofa. “It’s not like I’m just with you for the sex.”

Although in a joking tone, the comment opens a hole in your head, making you wonder if that was precisely why he was with you.

A young, childless and disciplined girl.

In the middle of a scorching desert, you were like an oasis for Ace.

No, it wasn't the time to think that. You should enjoy the time you had left with him, poking this hornet's nest inside your mind was by far a stupid idea.

You sit on the couch, snuggled up against each other. Ace reaches for the controller on the coffee table and chooses a movie that he finds interesting enough that neither of you end up falling asleep.

Little by little, as the minutes of the film go on, you come to appreciate the moment of intimacy and your worries are quickly put aside. Every now and then Ace takes a strand of your hair to curl between his fingers, and if not that, he's stroking the top of your head in a gentle, affectionate stroke.

Although the content of the film is interesting, you can't fight the sleep that creeps into your mind. The previous night's poor sleep is one of the main reasons for this, but it doesn't help being so comfortably close to Ace, with your head resting on his shoulder.

In the end, both reasons are the right recipe for you to fall asleep.

[...]

You wake up by yourself after a few hours, for a moment disoriented about where you were and whether the time had already changed, until you realize that the ceiling you were looking at was Ace house and not your old house.

You notice that you are lying on the couch, without the redhead by your side.

“Ace?” You get up from the upholstery and raise your voice to call his name. Upon his call, it doesn't take more than a few seconds for him to appear at the kitchen door. "What time is it?" You ask worried, both because you know you can't get home too late, and because the redhead's wife could arrive at any moment.

“Five-fifteen.”

“Damn, I slept for almost three hours!?” You ask in a daze and quickly pull your digital cell phone out of your bag, seeing that there were some messages from your mother and three missed calls.

“You looked pretty tired.” The redhead says as he approaches you “Studying late?”

“More or less that.” You omit the truth. He would never believe that ridiculous story about talking to someone from the past. “I’m sorry, Ace.” You say, feeling guilty for not spending enough time with him. “I would like to stay with you, but now I need to go back or my mother will kill me.”

“Okay, we can be together next time.”

I don't know if we'll have one next time.

You think, still afraid of the possibility of forgetting him.

But Ace, oblivious to your problems, removes those thoughts from your mind — albeit temporarily — by getting close enough so he can press his lips to yours. Unlike the first time, you accept him willingly when he tries to intensify the kiss.

The contact of both tongues intertwining in an intimate union is quite fervent and passionate, but it also contains a small trace of desperation on your part, aware that perhaps this would be your last kiss with him.

You pull away after a while, both because you need to breathe and because you need to leave. Ace smiles at you and gently tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, before walking away to go towards the window, checking if there was anyone on the street who might catch you leaving his house.

“All clear.” Ace warns.

At the green light, you immediately go to the door and open it, saying goodbye to Ace with a sharp pain in your chest.

You wished this wasn’t the last time.

Crossing the street and opening the door of her house, her mother and father were already waiting for her on the sofa in the living room.

It went without saying how much your mother started arguing the moment she saw you stepping foot in the house, asking why you had a cell phone when you didn't even answer a damn message. Your father also sided with her, but in a milder way, just advising you to pay more attention and not spend so much time on the street.

After listening to all the complaints that your mother had to say to you, you went up to your room and took the red phone out of your bag after locking the door, checking if there was a missed call on it too. Nothing.

You placed it on the desk and sat in the chair, deciding to wait for a call from Floyd while killing time by scrolling through your laptop.

[...]

The red phone rings at midnight.

You don't answer, knowing it's that strange male voice, rather than your friend Floyd — who hadn't yet shown any sign of life.

Maybe it was already too late to wait for a call from him. Who knows, perhaps his death was accomplished, even after all the warnings and advice given.

This makes you feel really bad, feeling not only bitter and sad about the possibility that he really died, but also guilty for having for a moment wished for that to actually happen.

The feeling of remorse covers him like a heavy blanket. Sudden tears escape your eyes and you wonder how you could have done more to help him.

Even in mourning, the stranger on the other end of the line doesn't stop, much less respect your pain.

As the seconds pass, the tinkling becomes more and more unbearable, like a macabre orchestra playing the march of the gates of hell as they open.

You grab that cursed device and answer the call.

“What the fuck do you want?” There is no trace of fear in you, other than the purest and most genuine anger. When there is no response other than a panting breath on the other end of the line, you ask in a more shouty manner. “WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT!?”

When there is still no response, you lose patience and hang up the phone. To prevent the tinkling from bothering you, you do the same process as yesterday: wrapping it in a sweatshirt and throwing it in the desk drawer.

You lay down to sleep and the tears return.

[...]

The next day, you feel as exhausted as before, as if your body hadn't gotten enough rest. However, you were fully aware that all this fatigue was not from your body, but from your own mind, shaken by Floyd's death.

You had simply convinced yourself that he would never call again, especially after waking up and realizing that you were still in the house you bought a few months ago, without any sign of change in the present.

You try to let it go, try to convince yourself that you did what you could and that Floyd probably didn't listen to you enough, leaving on his motorcycle even after all the warnings.

Apparently, blaming the victim of the tragedy herself was the only way to feel better, to not feel as helpless and guilty as she was now.

You try your best to put on a neutral expression on your face, pretending everything was fine and heading downstairs to have breakfast, even though your stomach was upset and your throat was completely blocked. You needed to pretend or your family would ask what the problem was, not wanting to be pressured with questions.

Your eyes hover over your mother and father, who were sitting near the kitchen counter. You wish them good morning and sit next to your father, half filling the glass that rested on the table with orange juice, then taking a slice of toasted bread and bringing it to your mouth, biting a piece. It's the best you could eat, without probably ending up vomiting.

You can't taste anything after the stress of these last two days, which finally came to a head last night after all that shedding of tears. You try your best to focus on the taste, but you don't taste anything other than the sweetness of the bread and the sourness of the juice. Each swallow is forced, your throat vehemently refuses each bite and it hurts.

You look at every corner of the kitchen, trying to distract yourself — from the pain and the sudden urge to cry — with anything that is remotely interesting, so that your active brain can have some daydreaming.

Don't think about Floyd. Don't think about him.

You think about him, while you argue with your own mind not to do this, so that it gets distracted by something.

Get distracted by something. Something. Think of something. Start a conversation.

His eyes continue to move, like prey looking for a way to escape its hunter. However, you were not prey, as you were just trying to escape your own tears and bitter emotions.

The guilt continued to haunt you, already rooted in you like a dark stain embedded in soul, just like that strange stain above the ceiling.

Stain… dark?

“Mom, has the ceiling always been like this?” You ask, aware that you had never noticed that before.

“That question again?” You don't understand what she means by that, as far as you knew, you had never even noticed that stain. “Yes, it has always been like this. But I keep telling your father to fix this.” She expresses obvious annoyance, staring directly at her husband. This one, who just pretends not to hear it.

“And what happened to him?” You look more closely, the stain snaked its way across the ceiling to the kitchen door as if a very large and disgusting snake had passed through there and left a trail of soot.

“I already told you that too.” She looks at you like you're an idiot asking the same thing twice in a row. And, apparently that was it, although you weren't aware that you'd ever asked those questions. “Don’t you remember that the house was falling apart when we first came to visit?” No, the house wasn't falling apart as far as you remembered. It just looked abandoned, nothing more. “The purchase was cheap because of the state, but the renovation ended up costing a lot, anyway.”

As if your body is being controlled by invisible wires, you rise from your seat and are driven purely by morbid curiosity. Your feet walk on the ground while your eyes wander through the air, following that soot snake that goes far beyond the kitchen, realizing that it also spreads to the ceiling of the living room, climbing the walls of the stairs to the bedroom hallway. It's horrible.

Regardless of how inattentive you were sometimes, your house had never been like that.

It was as if it had simply changed overnight.

Thank you for reading this far! Constructive criticism is always welcome!

I will only be back in January or February.

Bye~💖

[turbo-tsundere]

Content warning for gore, blood, burns & body horror.

A king with no crown and a holy fool.

(The element of venom/poison, stabbing/puncture wounds and destruction of a whole body is present in both of their deaths. Kokichi's pristine white clothes also end up being shoved down the toilet, and the poison made it difficult for him to breathe, so there's plausible callback to Miu also. Karma at its finest?)

If I could be the devil, you could be the sinner.

(Don't mind them, they're just spilling their guts)

(...)

(Concepts for scenes from a Gonta-centric survival horror game I'll never make. But it was fun to daydream about - maybe one day I'll finish other sketches and doodles relating to it into a more presentable state. The Cat Lady OST was playing on constant repeat while I drew this - Lily of the Valley, Don't Follow the Light, String, Plainwalker, Early Winter, Storytelling, Susan's Blue Sheep (alone again) - those in particular are now stuck in my brain when I look at those drawings, and what I imagine the "game's" mood to be like, at least the opening segment.)

(I felt both heartbroken and like a monster when drawing this one... But I wanted to draw something that doesn't conveniently erase nor tuck his mangled, swollen face away from view. Sure... in game it looks goofy. But I think mockingly disfiguring him was the point in all of this, too. And given the venom, the Schmidt pain index, how it rates some wasp species, the fact that those robot wasps could be packed with anything necessary really... it had to be awful. Really, every stage of Gonta's execution was excruciating and enough to kill a person on its own, but due to his strength he likely suffered through them all. I remember begging in my head he was at least spared the flame, that he was already gone by this point... But it's foolish to pretend it definitely was the case.)

I wanted to post something new, but I was either busy, ill, or focused on something else, so another sketchdump with oldies and wips it is. This time strictly 2020-21 stuff, drawn during the first few months after finishing the game; mostly to process the post-game/Ch4 sorrows. All very emotionally raw, very edgy stuff that I felt, to be honest, too shy to show before.

Like with any wip I posted before, I do hope to finish some of them properly one day, even though I don't know when. But that's fine, I've signed up for a very long ride with the bug man. Taking it easy is the priority.

Speaking of long-term projects, maybe there's no need to, but I do want to talk about my Gonta fancomic, so here goes.

It's a bit long, so I will continue under the cut.

(Some panel teasers first! ...Gonta sanity fine.)

I took a few months long break from personal drawings - an *actual* break, not just sitting in front of a screen, tired, stewing in guilt that I'm tired, and that I can't magically muscle through burnout, or headache, or exhaustion.

My brain was stuck in a loop of berating myself for underperforming, not doing well enough, for taking so long on "mere" 27 pages, when in the past I could finish a 90-page webcomic chapter much faster. I wouldn't let myself rest, because I didn't do enough; but I couldn't do enough, because I didn't allow myself to rest. And it's been going on for months and months.

What a stupid, unconstructive thing to do to myself. I was only spiralling down, intimidating and overwhelming myself with work on the one thing I specifically wanted to keep doing out of joy, not ambition and pedantism. So I decided to just say "fuck it" and stop for a while. Like, actually stop, do something else and try to feel unapologetic about it.

So I briefly took up sewing, a creative activity I had no personal stake in, and then I started PVP-ing in DS3 (sorry if I happened to kick your butt in there. Rest assured my butt gets kicked just as much), which did wonders, too, as non-artistic pastime.

And, in the end, it seems it worked.

I finally feel this internal drive to draw again. Sadly, I can't spend all of my free time on the doujin (I might need to open commissions soon), so my pacing will still be glacial... But there was an internal change from "I have to, I have to, I must..." back to "I want to". And this is all that matters.

Still, that makes me think... while technically I don't have deadlines, the comic has taken so much longer than I thought it would - and it will take a while still. Thus, I wonder if I shouldn't change my approach re publishing it.

The initial idea was to post it all at once when it's fully finished, but I debate releasing it one page at a time instead, while it's still work in progress.

Thing is, I don't think it would be good for overall pacing. I don't want to sacrifice it, plus I can't guarantee regular uploads, esp since I don't exactly work on the pages in chronological order (While the first page is done, it was drawn after I finished a few in the middle & at the end; and there are still a few important pages/panels in first half I'm a bit too afraid of touching just yet, wanting to do them justice. This is how I work in general, jumping around rather than sticking to overly strict linear order.)

The compromise would be to post like 3-5 pages per post, making it so each upload covers a specific scene, however, same issue arises - I can't promise regular uploads. In the end it feels like a half-measure. But maybe it's a good idea, despite that impression?

There's a secret option, too - if this takes absurdly long, my plan was to just post the storyboard, after replacing some panels/pages with already finished drawings. The thing is readable as is, and long finished on that front anyway. My personal deadline for that was "right before my current lease ends", but, well… I plan on extending it anyway, and again... it's just a back-up option for when everything else fails. In the end, I just want to finish the comic, and present it how it's meant to be presented, however long it will take.

All those things considered, I'll stick to the original plan for now... and then we shall see. I simply wanted to share where things stand currently, and where they might go.

And that's it! If you've read this far, thank you. See you in the undetermined future.

[holorform2009]

Ok. I've been reading yandere DC x reader stuff and all.

They all have their own unique way of writing and the plots too. But have you ever thought of making the reader a sprunki like?

I've seen others make reader a mermaid, animal/shape shifter, robin, a villain, and etc. But I have never seen someone make reader a sprunki, I know the sprunki just came out a days ago but like.

What I'm trying to say is

What if reader has a Music syndrome? (I made this up, this syndrome does not exist.)

Music syndrome is a person who only speaks music or sound to communicate people or express their feeling or wanted to talk. And of course, this syndrome has no cure. But anyways, if reader has a Music syndrome, they can only let out a noise of what it sounds like a music. Just a single tone. I image reader as brud in sprunki, and I would like to imagine how the DC characters interact reader who speaks music. Their confused expression as to what the reader is trying to say to them.

They tried to understand you but failed to do so, and I also wanted to add a bit of spice here. Since there is a horror version of brud, why not make music syndrome!reader have a trauma ✨

Reader does not like black top hat and it will trigger them, because it reminded them of what he did to their friends, especially wenda— *cough cough* Anyways! And I wanted to imagine the face of every DC characters to reader's head that got bitted by Simon and how shocked they are when they found out you have the tiniest brain that the bite could not reach it and you manage to survive Simon's bite. Walking around like that will give them a fright because you look like a zombie.

How did reader end up in the DC ? Well I want to image a scenario where reader escapes the bloody chaos, managed to escape wenda's wrath and also Black. They see a light grey door, they opened it and poof! They are now in the DC universe!

You are so confused when you enter this universe, when you looked down to yourself you have an arms and a digits. What is this you thought. You take a look around your surroundings and noticed you are not in that hellhole anymore, no more Simon eating what's left of you, no more Wenda stabbing you, and black... You shake your head. You do not want to remember that mean guy.

As you explore this unfamiliar world, you heard what it sounds like a murmur, the tone sounded worried. You looked at the source of sound, wondering who was looking at you. I mean. You head a fricking huge bite mark on your head, who wouldn't be worried about that? Furthermore, who wouldn't be surprised that the fact your still alive from that large wound? You have a smallest, tiniest brain of course.

"yo buddy"

You stopped, and turned around to see a man with black suit and a blue logo on his chest. "You need a medical attention there little guy!" When you blinked, you were snatched into his hold and held you up like Mufasa in the lion king. Startled by his sudden actions, you let out a noise of surprise but to him, he heard you sang.

"🎶🎵🎵🎶🎶🎵!"

So yeah, that's how you met Nightwing.

You are now at the hospital, your big ass bite mark is wrapped up in a pure white cloth. To be honest you didn't fell any pain from the biting or stabbing but it hurts to see your friend hurting you.

A tall lady approached you, gently rubbing circles on your back as she spoke to you "Where are your parents, little one?" What

What's a parent?

"🎶🎶🎵🎶🎵🎵🎶?" You sang. The nurse was left dumfounded at your response, not sure how to reply to that but she only said "Okay..." definitely did not understand what you said right there. "Do you feel any pain or anything that makes you uncomfortable? Just nod if yes and shake if no"

You shake your head no.

"Okay, I'll ask the doctor if you are ready to go"

With that she left, leaving you there. Sitting on the bed as you wonder what are you going to do now since you escaped from hell.

And that's how you end up here.

[kei-kinda-writes]

Rainy Days!

TYPE: Headcannons, Rainy days: It's a rainy day! what do you do to pass the time?

CHARACTERS (separate): Shoto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugo, Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, Izuku Midoriya, Hitoshi Shinso, Ochako Uraraka, Tsuyu Asui, Kiyoka Jiro

Can be red as platonic or romantic

SHOTO TODOROKI: Eating favourite food or snacks together

Very chill guy and would sit down with you to enjoy your favourite food together :D

Either you’ll sit in silence or work together on some homework: a good homework helper

No matter what it’d end up pretty quiet because I don’t think he’s very good with small conversations

Once a conversation does get going though he’ll engage and listen very well all you’d have to do is start it

If you end up finishing your food Shoto would end up offering to go get you some more while making himself some more soba

by the end he’s probably smiling a bit while listening to you and nodding along to what your saying

I think Shoto loves hearing stories about you too so if he got you to share some he’d love it

Will tell you a bit about his training since that’s the only thing he’d really know to talk about

KATSUKI BAKUGO: Baking

I know he can cook well but to me it would be the absolute funniest thing if he couldn’t bake if his life depended on it

no matter what this will end up in absolute chaos with a messy kitchen and constant banter and yelling

definitely a time to remember! You would probably be the one to bring up the idea and have to convince him

in the end though you would probably end up with some delicious 5 star deserts

He probably refuses to anything besides cupcakes or chocolate chip cookies though

Will laugh at you if you make a mess and force you to clean it up

Goodluck if you start a flour fight though! :) that’s the start of war and Katsuki won’t stop until he’s won

Took at least half an hour to clean the kitchen though

DENKI KAMINARI: Video games

Firm believer he likes video games and probably anime

Will play any game genre with you however has a preference towards horror or adventure games

If you play dress to impress though he will somehow absolutely destroy you and end up on the podium almost every time

some sort of music or TV show would be playing in the background if you aren’t playing a horror game though

Will scream like a little girl if you play horror games so you gotta prepare for that

Ends in a noise complaint 100%

would willingly try out a bunch of free games with you and rate them together with you

overall it’s an amazing time and I think even if you don’t play he’d still like for you to sit around and watch!

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA: Workout/Training

He likes working out and stuff lots so would invite for you to join him!

Won’t care if you do or don’t participate just enjoys the company and tells some of the best stories

Imagine he’s doing some sort of push ups or sit ups telling you about homework with Katsuki and you’re just sat listening and helping him out

if you do participate though he’ll be your personal cheerleader and always be so helpful and outgoing telling you good job on a constant

Might make a small competition to see who can do more push ups or lift more

Would be open to sparring too for more practice!

Another thing he might do with you on a rainy day is re-dye his hair which would likely end up in chaos and calling Mina in for help

IZUKU MIDORIYA: Movies

Like I’ve said before he probably really likes documentary movies and would invite you to watch one!

Wont mind if you end up choosing a different type of movie though as long as the two of you get to watch something together it makes him happy

Additionally won’t care if you’re doing work or scrolling through social media while watching I think he just likes having your company

If you are watching a documentary movie though be prepared for him to pause and rant about how a fact isn’t correct

So if you don’t like that he might not be the best person to watch a movie with!

If you end up falling asleep at any point though he’d cover you with a blanket or something along the lines of that and turn the volume down slightly so you won’t end up woken up

Will bring out an all might blanket to have whilst watching the movie too as well as some snacks! :D

Likely makes mental note of your favourites and buys some or at the very least grabs whatever you’d like from the dorm kitchen!

HITOSHI SHINSO: Naptime

He’s so sleep deprived and without a doubt takes naps

And when it starts raining? I mean come on we all know that’s perfect napping time

It would take awhile before he invites you to be his napping buddy but once you are it’s the absolute best

He probably has some of the comfiest pillows and blankets and the two of you bring out a small mat he has in his closet for sleepovers and just nap in the same room

Might also put on some sort of show as background noise if you need it or if you just don’t feel like napping

Adding onto that if you don’t wanna take a nap or just don’t feel tired he’d probably just leave you to your own devices and let you do whatever you’d like as long as you’re quiet

Won’t pressure you to nap with him would more like casually offer it on a rainy day to see if you’d like to join

OCHAKO URARAKA: Arts + crafts

Like I’ve said in a previous headcannon I think Uraraka enjoys doing little crafts like making bracelets together or painting stuff like that!

if you aren’t doing a messy craft you’d end up in a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor I think

if you end up making bracelets together I think she’d absolutely adore making matching ones together :))

Or something like switching canvases or papers every couple of minutes!!

I am a firm believer she listens to lofi beats so that would be playing in the background

warm lighting, silly banter and crafts, rain, and calming music, the vibes would be immaculate

After the stuff you two made is either hanging up somewhere in her dorm or she’s proudly wearing it around! :)

if you make little charms or something along those lines she would keep it in her costume for keepsakes much like the all might gift she received around the holidays episode

TSUYU ASUI: Playing in the rain

I know it’s a bit cliché, but from what we know about Tsu liking water I’m a firm believer that she likes the rain

Jumping, dancing, running around anything is on the table

She wouldn’t pressure you into playing with her, she would definitely enjoy it if you did however she’d be fine if you watched from inside or just on some steps under a roof

Building on that she probably is a very flexible person and wouldn’t mind just watching the rain with you if you don’t wanna get wet but still wanna spend time together :))

If you do end up playing in the rain together you’d probably both come back in with soaked clothes and muddy pants!

definitely calls it one of her favourite memories with you and probably asked to take a couple of photos together to remember the occasion

Photos from then were likely her phone background for awhile

KIYOKA JIRO: Learning instruments + listening to music

Jiro loves music we know that from the UA carnival concert ordeal thingy (idk what it’s called man)

I think it’s sorta like a love language of hers to teach music to the people around her

So if you’re open to it and willing to try she’d love to take advantage of the bad weather and teach you how to play an instrument

I’d say she’s pretty understanding if you have noise sensitivities or just aren’t willing to learn anything though

So if you aren’t too keen on it though or maybe you just don’t like loud noises she’s also spend time sharing her music with you :)

You’d be in her room just exchanging songs and such, she wouldn’t pressure to share songs either but would absolutely adore it if you did

After awhile if she ended up with a good knowledge of your music taste she would make a playlist and that’s the one she’d play every rainy day or in general time she spends with you!

Would be willing to paint nails or work on homework whilst listening

Thanks for reading!

Side note: Apologies if there’s any typos, things don’t make sense, or the characters feel as though they aren’t properly done!

[defectivevillain]

slashers & thrillers

individual pairings: Reader/Demon Brothers, Barbatos, Diavolo, Simeon, and Solomon

It's horror movie night at the House of Lamentation!

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors used.

word count: 4.2k | ao3 version

this was just my excuse to write horror movie headcanons for the characters. there, i said it.

warnings: blood/violence/gore typical of horror movies; slight angst in Simeon and Diavolo's parts

Asmodeus tends to be more preoccupied with the attractiveness of the actors than the story itself. In fact, he often forgets that you’re watching *horror* movies, as he usually enjoys watching romance films. Sometimes you’ll catch him leaning forward when two characters are in close proximity, only to flinch and fall backwards when the villain evidently appears. 

And, safe to say, showing him the Friday the 13th films is a huge mistake. You had forgotten the sheer amount of nudity and sex in the first movie until Asmodeus was dazedly remarking, “I like this movie.” You shake your head in disbelief. 

It’s rather surprising to learn that he enjoys the gore. You wouldn’t have necessarily seen him as the type, but he’s often leaning closer to the screen when people are being ripped apart. You want to joke that he may be part vampire, but you know that he’s just fascinated with the grotesque. Surprisingly, he even enjoys the films with monsters in them—especially if they’re rather unsightly and have sharp teeth or slime. It’s oddly touching (albeit in a weird way) that he can find beauty in the most unlikely of places.

Beelzebub is just there for the snacks. He doesn’t really care about horror movies one way or another. He’ll often leave to get snacks and never return. One night, you track him down after to ask if he disliked the movie, only for him to blink at you owlishly and go, “What movie?” He’ll see the way your face contorts slightly at his answer and try to remember. “Oh, right! It was good, I was just hungry.” Beelzebub admits. Your lips quirk at the edges. 

“We should just watch it in the kitchen next time,” you respond playfully. Despite the fact that the suggestion is clearly a joke, Beelzebub brightens at the idea. You resist the urge to laugh at his reaction, instead trying to think about how you could keep him in the room longer. “Maybe we need a popcorn machine or something, huh? A spare fridge?”

Beelzebub is practically salivating at the mention of a spare fridge in the room where you watch movies. He nods excitedly, neglecting the food in his hands to reach out and give you a hug. You happily embrace him back, glad that he doesn’t feel left out or guilty for leaving.

Belphegor falls asleep nearly every time. It doesn’t matter how gory or violent the movie is—by the time it’s nearing the end, he’ll be peacefully sleeping. It’s honestly a pretty impressive skill, considering the sheer volume of the movie and the chaos occurring all around him. After all, with all his brothers, you, Diavolo, Simeon, Solomon, and Barbatos, you’re sort of a rowdy group. 

Belphegor usually sits next to you, so you often end up with his head slumped on your shoulder at some point throughout the movie. You can’t find yourself to be bothered by it—he’s a peaceful sleeper and doesn’t make so much as a single sound. His brothers, on the other hand, are rambunctious as ever. They often bicker about whether they should wake Belphie up or not, but you violently shush them and they eventually let it go. 

One time, you’re so engrossed in the movie that you don’t notice Mammon and Satan trying to throw popcorn at Belphie until you’re promptly hit in the face with a kernel. You blink and look over at them, watching as they try and fail to hide your laughter. You then glance over at Belphegor, only to find that he has a few kernels stuck in his hair. Feeling strangely sympathetic, you pick them out and throw them back at Mammon and Satan. 

If there’s a movie Belphegor really enjoys, he’ll make sure to drink some caffeine before watching—so that he doesn’t fall asleep. He will still lean into your shoulder and act as if he’s an unmoving pile of limbs, but he’ll watch with unusually rapt attention. You haven’t quite picked up on the pattern between the movies he likes, but you hope to learn more as time passes.

Levi’s interest really depends on the movie. He enjoys the stories that are fleshed-out and have compelling characters; slasher films without much plot tend to bore and irritate him. If he doesn’t like the movie, he’ll often pull out his gaming console on low brightness and start playing that. Sometimes, if you find a film boring too—which is usually a rarer occurrence—you’ll rest your head on his shoulder and watch him play. Levi will let you, but if he loses or messes up, he’ll often blame it on you. He gets strangely embarrassed in those moments, as if ashamed of letting you see him fail. At that point, you’ll try to lift your head off his shoulder and give him some space, but he’s quick to tug you back and insist you watch him try again. 

If he is watching the movie, Levi is prone to letting out sarcastic and spiteful comments like Mammon—especially when he doesn’t like it. The two of them together are a pretty lethal combination, and they often render a bad film to a complete dumpster fire by the end. 

Truthfully, Levi enjoys psychological thrillers. There are a few of his favorites—and when you watch those, he’s practically shaking at your side as he resists the urge to explain the story, characters, and everything to you. You nudge him on the shoulder, encouraging him to speak. He’ll spend at least ten minutes of the movie whispering the details to you. And when Mammon turns around and hushes you both, you promptly throw the nearest object at him and urge Levi to continue.

Lucifer is a bit difficult to read. You can’t tell if he’s here to watch over his brothers or watch the movie. You suppose it could be both. He’s often tagging along to events like these, even if it seems as if he doesn’t want to be there. 

On the rare occasions that you find yourself near him, you always have a strange urge to make conversation with him. Whether it’s to reassure yourself that he’s not bored out of his mind or to make him more comfortable, you’re not sure. One time, you look pointedly to the main character on-screen, who is making their way through a dark cavern alone. “If you were ever in that situation-” You ask Lucifer, trying to make conversation. 

“I wouldn’t be,” Lucifer responds with almost unfounded confidence.

“But if you ever were-” You try to interject.

“I wouldn’t be.” He says with a prideful finality. 

“You’re just too good for the entire genre, huh?” You huff. Lucifer smiles knowingly and stares at the screen. He almost seems to relax after your small conversation; you swear you see his shoulders slowly lose their previous tension. 

Lucifer is often watching his brothers more than the movie itself. He’s always been the unofficial caretaker—and that role is never more apparent than during nights like these. He’s often anticipating fights before they happen; getting up to fetch things for his brothers when they need them; talking to them when they seem to feel off. You admire how much he cares for his siblings, but you always feel a little guilty. It never seems as if he has the chance to actually enjoy himself. 

At least, that’s what you think. But after one night, he pulls you aside and thanks you for organizing the event. You can’t quite control your thoughts at that moment. “It didn’t seem like you were enjoying yourself.” You immediately freeze and stare at him helplessly. 

Lucifer laughs goodnaturedly. “I appreciate your concern,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “My brothers are enjoying themselves. To see them so carefree… means more to me than you could ever know.”

“Oh,” you respond, feeling slightly foolish and embarrassed now. As if sensing your quickly spiraling thoughts, Lucifer squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. 

“Besides, seeing Mammon’s reaction was worth it.” Lucifer smirks. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” You smile in return. “He was talking such a big game earlier, too… Saying he wouldn’t be scared…” You think back to the way he flailed and screamed at the jump scare, practically hiding behind the couch. 

Lucifer’s hand falls from your shoulder and he pulls out his phone, tapping it a few times before showing you. Upon closer investigation, you find a picture of Mammon and him: with Mammon recoiling backwards in evident fear while Lucifer looks on with a blank expression. 

“That’s incredible,” you laugh. “Send that to me; I want it as my wallpaper.” 

“Will do,” Lucifer hums, clearly amused. He pockets his phone and studies you for a moment. His expression morphs into his typical stoicism, but with a hint of something uncharacteristic. Concern, perhaps? “Get some rest.”

“You too,” you respond. Lucifer nods and departs, leaving you to stand in the hall with a fuzzy feeling in your chest.

Mammon is the type to yell at the characters as if they can hear him. He’s often berating them for their stupid decisions and making sarcastic comments once they encounter the villain. He can be quite the talker, to the point where his brothers are frequently hissing at him to be quiet. Mammon will then cross his arms and pout exaggeratedly, until you tell him that he can just whisper his comments to you. 

He has somewhat dramatic reactions to the movie and its jump scares. Sometimes, you’ll catch him and Mammon will immediately stiffen, muttering something about how he was just acting. It’s never very convincing and he seems to know it, if the flush on his cheeks is anything to go by. 

Mammon enjoys seeing the cruel or vicious characters getting what they deserve. He’ll often be the one cheering when a filthy rich, abusive businessman gets cut in half or a criminal gets their eyes torn out. It’s amusing to see him so passionate, even if his glittering eyes and excited smile seem a bit misplaced. 

He also tends to brag about how he’d survive or fight through a situation the character is going through. Mammon is adamant that he wouldn’t take shit from anyone, ever, and it’s very amusing. He’s often pretending as if he’s in the scene himself, throwing fake punches with exaggerated sound effects. Mammon is a very active movie watcher, ultimately. It’s endearing most of the time, but when a movie is very quiet and requires you to really pay attention… Well, you often have to watch it again at a later date. 

Satan is infuriatingly knowledgeable about the specifics of horror movies: especially the medical practicalities. A needle jabbed into the neck of a person is enough to make him throw his hands up in the air in disbelief; a sacrificial cut to the palm will make him flip a table. “That’s not how it works!” He’ll hiss. 

“It’s fiction, you’re supposed to suspend your disbelief a little,” you try to remind him. This only makes him turn his infuriated attention towards you. 

“Oh, right,” he scoffs. “Because it’s totally smart to go to a hairdresser where someone was just murdered. This is stupid!”

“Satan, shut up!” You hiss, pointedly gesturing at the others, who are very engrossed in the movie. The two of you keep bickering for a while, until Mammon gets pissed and pauses the movie, chewing you both out and ordering you out of the room. (The irony of him telling you both to keep it down is not lost on you.) Satan and you exchange annoyed glances before you’re being pushed out of the room and sentenced to sitting in the hallway like two elementary students being disciplined. 

You adjust your posture and let your head fall back against the wall. “That movie was stupid,” you eventually acquiesce. Satan looks at you in disbelief, clearly not expecting you to concede the point. He was right, though. It made virtually no sense. It was just gore without plot. 

“Yeah,” Satan agrees after a second. “It really was.”

You tap your fingers restlessly against the ground. An awkward silence descends across the space, before you find yourself breaking through it. “Do you think Cat’s Eye is still open?” You ask. Offering to go to Satan’s favorite café seems like a pretty good peace offering. 

Indeed, Satan blinks for a moment, before a grin rises on his face. “It better be open.” He gets to his feet, walking over to you. Satan then offers you a hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. You walk through the halls and head outside to where the car is parked. Satan promises to drive and jumps into the front seat, a devilish smirk on his face. You sit in the passenger’s seat and pretend not to feel nervous… but it only takes moments for the reality of the situation to set in.

“...Lucifer’s going to kill us.” You realize aloud. He hates when you leave unannounced; as the eldest brother, he feels responsible for your safety, too. 

“Yep.” Satan smirks, looking thrilled at the prospect. 

Barbatos is just grateful to be there. It’s hard for him to escape the feeling that he’s just a third wheel… but you went out of your way to extend an invite to him specifically. If the other brothers are surprised by his presence, they don’t show it. Diavolo just raises his eyebrows at him, which Barbatos pretends not to notice. 

As for the movie itself… Even without his powers, Barbatos is usually able to intuit what will happen. He tends to keep his suspicions to himself, but one time he mutters something under his breath and a few of the brothers hear. Since then, they seem excited to test his theories. 

He doesn’t react to jump scares. At all. Even if he’ll truly be scared or frightened by something, Barbatos will remain stock-still with an unaffected expression on his face. When the brothers notice this, they soon take to attempting to scare him outside of movie nights. Unsurprisingly, their efforts never work. No matter how many times Mammon pops out from behind a corner or Asmodeus appears out of thin air, Barbatos is never affected.

“They’re never going to scare you, huh?” You ask him one time, after Mammon jumped out from behind a door and screamed loudly at him. Admittedly, it scared the shit out of you—but it didn’t even phase Barbatos. Mammon had departed after that, clearly conflicted between feeling proud of scaring you and disappointed for not scaring the demon. 

“I don’t think so,” Barbatos responds, a hint of amusement gracing his features. “But it’s fun to see them try.”

“Wow, that’s brutal,” you remark, unable to suppress your laughter. “It is funny to see them fail, though.” Barbatos is silent all of a sudden. You feel your lips rising into a smile. “What, now you’re going to deny it? Come on, it’s fun to mess with them.”

He’s still quiet. You feel strangely determined to break through his professionalism, to get a glimpse of the real Barbatos. “You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone. Hell, I live with them—if anyone gets it, it’s me.” You try to persuade him. 

Barbatos averts his eyes for a moment, as if making eye contact with you is growing to be too much for him. “Very well,” he acquiesces. “It is… amusing to mess with them.”

“There you go,” you smile, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You feel strangely proud of yourself for getting him to say it. 

Barbatos shakes his head in disbelief, a bit of color rising to his cheeks. “You are insufferable.”

Diavolo really enjoys himself at these movie nights. It’s not often that he can sneak away from his work—and few people treat him as a normal person. This movie night is refreshingly mundane. Here, he doesn’t have to be Lord Diavolo. He can just be Diavolo.  

He likes the movies too. Truthfully, he didn’t have much of a childhood: this is the first time he’s ever watched a movie. Diavolo doesn’t want to make that big of a deal about it, and he tells Lucifer as much as they’re talking in lowered voices. But then you whip around, somehow hearing him, and stare at him in disbelief. 

“You’ve never watched a movie?” You ask quietly from over the back of the couch. Fortunately, in the chaos of having all the brothers in the same room, the remark goes unheard. 

Diavolo stares at you for a moment, before looking to Lucifer for assistance. But Lucifer is just watching the exchange between the two of you, clearly unsurprised by your persistence. Diavolo rolls his eyes, before turning his attention towards you. “That’s correct.”

You stare at him for several seconds, studying his face. Lucifer is still sitting there, clearly sensing the tension but not making any move to diffuse it. It’s almost as if he’s amused by Diavolo’s suddenly precarious situation. Before Diavolo can muse on that thought any longer, Mammon and Satan are fighting—leaving Lucifer to walk off and break them up. 

“You’ve really never watched a movie?” You ask again, as if you genuinely can’t believe it.

“That’s what I said.” You can sense that he doesn’t want to talk about it, but you do get up from your seat and move to sit next to him. Diavolo chances a sidelong glance at you, confused. “What are you doing?” He eventually asks. 

“Sitting next to you,” you answer, as if the answer is obvious. “This is your first movie, I want to see how you like it.”

“Okay,” Diavolo frowns. 

“You don’t really seem like the horror type, but who knows?” You mutter to yourself, just barely loud enough for him to hear. Diavolo arches a brow and stares at you, expecting you to retract the remark. You just stare back at him unflinchingly, and he’s reminded of one of the many reasons why he likes you so much. You aren’t afraid of him. You treat him as if he’s a regular person. “You can pick the movie next time.” You offer. “Even if it’s not horror.”

“Thanks.” Diavolo says, not quite sure how to feel about what’s happening. On the one hand, you’re sitting next to him and conversing with him as a friend would. On the other, he can see you occasionally looking at him from the corner of your eye—as if seeing him in a new light. Somehow, Diavolo gets the feeling that you’ve intuited what his childhood was like. And that’s something he’s hidden from everyone in the room, save for Barbatos. 

Diavolo can’t shake the instinctual dread that’s assaulting his chest, as he imagines you worming your way into his heart and prying all of his secrets out of him. He’s seen the way you’ve interacted with the brothers—how you’ve grown closer with each and every one of them, despite their unwillingness. He knows it will likely only be a matter of time before you’re becoming a staple figure in his life, too. While before, he would’ve jumped at the chance to get to know you better, he finds himself in a strange balancing act. Diavolo can’t lie to you—he promised himself never to lie to others—but, at the same time, he can’t deny the appeal of closing off and remaining the elusive Headmaster. By all means, he should be nothing more than an acquaintance to you. Yet, here you are, sitting next to him during movie night and looking at him as if you’re actually worried for him, the future ruler of the Devildom. 

Diavolo doesn’t know how to feel about any of it. He doesn’t know how to feel about you. You’re igniting feelings within him that he had sworn off of. 

You must sense his racing thoughts, because you lean over to whisper to him. “You don’t have to talk about it,” you reassure him. He can feel the body heat practically radiating off of you. Humans are strange. “Just know that I’m here. If you ever need someone to listen.” You say, before leaning back and enforcing the distance between the two of you once more. 

Feeling strangely appreciative, Diavolo nods silently—pushing past the unfamiliar burning feeling in the back of his throat.

Simeon hates horror movies. He’s troubled by the violence and gore. You don’t realize this until it’s a bit too late—until he’s leaving the room with a flimsy excuse and not returning. After a few minutes, you decide to go looking for him. You eventually find him standing on one of the balconies outside, staring off into the distance. His shoulders are drawn tight and he looks tense. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask him as you approach. He almost flinches, before glancing back to find you and relaxing.

“Of course,” he responds deceptively. Simeon is rather adept at keeping his composure, but you’ve grown to know him better and are able to understand what he’s thinking. You frown and chance a sidelong glance at him, noticing the firm draw to his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” you hear yourself say. Your chest feels tight and you feel terribly guilty for not having the forethought to consider how violence and gore would distress him. 

“For what?” Simeon asks, his brows furrowing as he continues staring ahead. 

“I should’ve figured you wouldn’t like horror movies,” you frown. “Being an angel and all.”

Simeon just takes a shuddering breath. He’s shaking slightly, you realize. Concerned, you reach out and place a hand on his—which is gripping the railing of the balcony with an unnecessary amount of force. With your support, he slowly loosens his grip. You’re sure he must have bolts of pain sliding up and down his fingers, but he doesn’t show any sign of feeling it. 

You squeeze his hand for a moment, feeling helpless. For a moment, Simeon doesn’t respond verbally; then, he extends his arms and hugs you. You’re quick to reciprocate, secretly surprised that he’s initiating the contact.  “I’m sorry.” You murmur again. 

“You apologize a lot,” he chokes out. 

“Says the angel,” you huff in amusement. You pull back for a moment, worried by the uncharacteristic tone of his voice. To your surprise, there are tears falling down his cheeks. You swallow past your remorse and take a slow breath, bringing your hands up to cradle his face and wiping his tears away with your thumbs.

“You should get back,” Simeon says, a note of something unreadable in his voice. “The brothers will be worried.”

“They can be worried.” You say with an amused smile. They’re not the ones who need you right now. “They’ll survive.” 

“Doubtful,” Simeon responds, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. He’s grateful you stayed.

Solomon isn’t the biggest fan of horror movies in particular, but he enjoys spending time with you—especially doing “human” activities. It’s refreshing to do ordinary things—to maintain an air of normalcy, even when surrounded by demons and angels. It helps calm him down from the day’s events, from the pressure he sometimes threatens to buckle under. 

As it turns out, the Devildom’s horror movies are kind of bad. The two of you have to convince Lucifer—and later Diavolo—to let you snag some classics from the human world. This is how Solomon and you find yourselves standing in the middle of a superstore, sifting through a bin of clearance DVDs. 

“Will these even work with Devildom tech?” You realize aloud. You make sure to keep your voice down so any other humans don’t hear you. Solomon stares at you for a moment. 

“That’s a good question,” he huffs. “I guess we’ll find out.” 

You shrug and continue sorting through the seemingly endless pile of DVDs. The majority of the movies are rather old, but you glimpse Halloween out of the corner of your eye and immediately grab it excitedly. 

“What’d you find?” Solomon asks, evidently sensing your growing anticipation. 

“Halloween!” You respond. 

He looks down at the DVD in your hand and frowns. “Never heard of it,” he hums. 

“What?” You choke out. “You haven’t heard of it? It’s one of the most iconic horror movies of all time.” Solomon just shakes his head. You find yourself shaking your head in return, although your head shake is born out of disappointment. “I thought you were a human,” you say sarcastically. 

“Okay, low blow,” Solomon responds, clearly amused. “And, what, I’m not a human unless I know every movie ever made?”

“No, of course not!” You roll your eyes. “But Halloween? Seriously? Next you’re going to say you’ve never heard of Silence of the Lambs.” He doesn’t respond. “For real? How? Don’t you like The Quietude of the Black Lambs? It’s pretty much a plagiarized version!” 

Solomon throws his hands up in mock-surrender. “Okay, okay,” he says, attempting to calm you down. “I didn’t realize this was such a big deal for you.”

“It’s a huge deal,” you respond exaggeratedly. “We’ll have to fix this immediately. With a full night movie marathon, when we get back.”

Solomon just sighs. It appears you’ve adopted the brothers’ stubbornness.

thanks for reading! <3

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[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 7

Hello!! This story is moving right along and we finally get to the training part, I don't know anything about swimming except for what I've researched so if the coaching is wrong let me know via DMs or asks, not in the comments please!

Also! Bitchy Steve is almost as good as a Wet Steve. I don't make the rules.

Eddie does.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

Some weekends were better than others when it came to sitting by the pool and watching his friends swim. He watch Eddie glide soundlessly through the water, like a shark sensing its prey, and wished he could get into the pool with them.

But it was just impossible not to replay the rushing water surrounding him as he sunk to the bottom of the pool. He had been told time and time again by doctors that he shouldn’t be able to remember that, as he had been unconscious when it happened.

So what if it was his imagination or whatever. The fact was he couldn’t have the water be higher than his head when both feet were planted on the floor of the pool. Yes, there were shallow ends of the pool where it was only three, four, or even five feet, but his brain kept telling him it was a lie. That the water would engulf him again and he would drown.

And this time he would die.

The fact that all that shit was irrational as hell didn’t matter. Steve figured that’s what bothered Tommy the most about it. That it was all such bullshit. It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.

That and Robin was the one to dive and save him, when Tommy had froze.

They were having a small celebration congratulating Eddie on finishing his five hundred hours of community service. His last day was on a Wednesday because of the weird amount of hours. Hopper was there, Joyce and Murray, too. Wayne. All of the friends he had made working there. Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, the kids. And of course Steve.

About half way through the party Eddie sidled up to him and bumped him with his shoulder. “You going to miss me, Harrington?”

Steve let out a laugh. “Miss getting soaked to the skin every Saturday? Not a chance in hell.”

Eddie smiled and then chewed his lip for a moment. He had been thinking about getting to use the pool every week for three months and how that was ending now. He had been thinking about how much he would miss everyone, but especially Steve.

“You’ve seen me swim for a few weeks now,” he hedged, “do you really think I’ve got a chance at the Olympics?”

Steve turned to him in shock. Eyes wide and jaw on the floor. “Fuck, Eds, given proper training I think you could outswim me.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. He remembered what his uncle had said about Steve before the accident. That ‘the greatest of all time’ was thrown around a lot. And Steve thought he could top that?

“And you’d be the one to train me?” he asked nervously. “No on else?” Because that was the other issue. He had heard horror stories about how the coaches were snobs and how they would look down at him as a charity case.

“Oh yeah,” Steve said excitedly. “Joyce was telling me about this program where the rec center will pay for all the lessons, the competitions, and even the travel expenses. Robin told me that they had something similar when she started swimming, too. Hell, even Max is thinking of doing it. So it would be me coaching you and her and you would have your own time slots and everything.”

Eddie laughed at how fast that little statement was. He could tell Steve was really excited about it. “Okay. On one condition.”

Steve cocked his head to the side as Eddie pulled out a business card out of his pocket and handed it to him.

Dr. Rhys Hughes, Psychiatrist and Licensed Therapist.

“This is a friend of mine’s dad,” Eddie explained. “He specializes in phobias. I don’t know if he can help you get back in the water, but at least you’ll be able to process what happened to you. He said he’s even willing to do it for free, so you can get the help you need.”

Steve ran his thumb over the raised print and thought about it. It was a small price to pay, he thought, to get Eddie into the Olympics. And who knows, maybe he could get back into the water with him.

He stuck out his hand for Eddie to shake. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

The answering smile was blinding as Eddie shook his hand.

~

Steve stood with Joyce at the front of the rec center, nervously chewing on the skin around his nails.

“Stop that!” she said, smacking his hands away. “He’ll be here.”

He wished she had her confidence. Hell he wished he any confidence at all at this point. He used to have fucking swagger. But now days he was just a bundle of nerves.

“When is your first appointment with Dr. Hughes?” she asked, mostly to get his mind off the fact that Eddie was running late.

“Tomorrow after my last class,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets to avoid the temptation of chewing on his fingers.

“To be honest,” he continued, “I think I’m more worried about my appointment then I am coaching Eddie. Coaching is easy, processing my trauma? Not so much.”

She gave his arm a squeeze but before she could say anything, Eddie’s van roared into the parking lot and skidded into a close parking spot. His van stuck out among the BMW, Mercedes, and Lexus cars that were the other coaches cars. Hell, even Steve had his BMW from when he got his first gold.

Eddie leapt out of his van and dashed up to them. “Oh my god, I am so sorry, I had to drop Wayne off work because his truck wouldn’t start. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re okay, Eddie,” Joyce soothed. “We need to get the paper work for the scholarship taken care of before you get into the pool. As always, Robin will be assisting Steve, he’s gotten permission to use her.”

Eddie and Steve followed her into her office where Steve and Eddie filled out a mountain’s worth of paper work between them.

Then they handed it all to Joyce who took it from them with a smile. “Go have fun. It’s Coaches Matthews and Ford today with Hannah and Lisa.”

Steve groaned. Andrew Ford and Haley Matthews were the worst of the coaches. They were utter snobs who thought their little darlings were God’s gift to swimming, when in reality they hadn’t even medaled in a meet the whole three years they had been coaching Hannah and Lisa.

“Oh come on, now,” Joyce admonished. “They aren’t that bad. You won’t even be in the same pool. Andy and Haley will be in the pool at the far end, while you and Eddie will be in the pool next to the endless pool area. So I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“Come on Eddie,” Steve said, waving him along and Eddie fell in step beside him.

“Um...” Eddie said, chewing on his bottom lip, “these coaches are going to be worse than Joyce thinks, aren’t they?”

Steve let out a long sigh. “Yeah, they are. But as she pointed out we will only see them coming and going, so that will limit our interactions.”

“So what is an endless pool?” Eddie asked as they neared the dressing rooms.

Steve grinned. “I love it. It’s basically a small pool that has currents running so it can test your strength and endurance. I use it all the time to keep up this physique!” He motioned at his his torso and Eddie’s eyes went wide.

He just nodded as Steve chuckled.

They got to the dressing rooms to see Robin surrounded by Haley, Hannah, and Lisa. Hannah was a bleached blonde with faux tanned skin and blue eyes which was the only natural thing about her. And yes that included her breasts. Lisa was a natural blonde, but her eyes were green and she had braces. Haley was the only brunette. Her long dark hair reached the middle of her back in waves, but it was pulled up into a pony tail. Her hazel eyes were cold and calculating.

Eddie hated them on sight.

They were bombarding her with questions about why she was there, was she the coach or was she being Steve’s bitch again. Shit like that.

“The only bitch here, ladies,” Steve said with a menacing grin, “is me. And I don’t take lightly to people harassing my best friend, so you better move along.”

All three girls whirled to face him.

“Steve!” Haley purred. She walked up to him and put her hand on his arm. “We were just having a friendly chat.” She chewed on her bottom lip and batted her eyelashes up at him. “There’s nothing to see here, right?”

Eddie scoffed. “Whether that works on Steve or not, it sure the hell won’t work on me. My gay ass is totally going to report you to Joyce for harassing Robin.”

Haley released Steve’s arm like she had been burned and whipped her head to face him. She took in his long hair and tattoos peaking out of his sleeves and above his collar.

“Who let the trash in?” she huffed with an arched eyebrow.

“Honey,” Steve bit back, hand on his hip. “The only trash here is you, now why don’t they three of you run along to the losers’ pool, while Eddie, Robin, and I take the winners’ pool and never the twain shall meet? Mmk?”

If Eddie was a cartoon character he would have had his jaw on the floor, tongue lulled out, and complete heart-eyes.

Fucking hell.

“Come on, girls,” Haley said coldly. “We don’t want to mix with the have-nots.”

The three girls left, chins in the air and looking down their noses at them both.

After they had left Steve rolled his eyes. “At least we missed Andy. He’s the worst.” He turned to Robin. “You okay? That looked pretty intense when we walked around the corner.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “I thought they were going to devour you for sure.”

“I’m fine,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I wasn’t going to tell them shit, though. I hate those types of people; thinking that just because they’re rich, they must have all the talent. Especially with the fact that I made it to the Olympics and dropped out because the pressure was too great. I could outswim all of them, you wouldn’t even see them on the fucking camera. I just couldn’t take all the world’s eyes on me.”

Eddie winced. “I feel that. I’m worried about the pressure too.”

Steve put his hand on his shoulder. “You’ll do fine. I have a feeling you’ll be super nervous before hand and then just soak up the attention once you get out there.”

Eddie blushed and shoved his hair in front of his face.

“We’ll meet you at the endless pool after we get changed,” Steve told her.

Robin nodded and went to go open the room.

Steve and Eddie went into the men’s dressing room to get changed into their swimsuits. Eddie hit the showers first, with Steve taking a little bit longer to get into his shiny new coaching gear.

There was a man already there. He looked like a fucking Greek god. Olive skin, dark hair and eyes, broad shoulders. Immediately Eddie pegged him as the mysterious Andy Ford.

He chose the shower farthest from the guy and turned the water on hot. He was so focused getting completely wet that he didn’t hear the other shower turning off.

“So you’re the charity case,” came the oily voice suddenly next to him. “You’re not what I was expecting.”

Eddie slicked his hair back and turned off the water to face the guy. “Said everyone ever, dude. You aren’t special.”

“Do you really think you can learn anything from someone who can’t even leave the kiddie pool?” Andy asked, batting his eyelashes innocently.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Eddie said crossing his arms in front of his chest and putting all his weight on his back foot, to put distance between him and slimy. “But I don’t see your lot lining up to take his place.”

Andy raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down. “You’re what? Eighteen, nineteen? You’re far too old to be training for this now. You’ll only be humiliated out there. I’m just trying to save whatever dignity you have left.”

Eddie scoffed and whipped his hair back, splashing the guy in the face. “I’ve been training since I was ten, I just had a short little break there for high school.” He patted Andy’s shoulder as walked past. “Besides just how many Olympic medals do you have?”

Steve burst out laughing behind Andy. “He’s got you there, Andy. You’ve never even been to the Olympics and neither has any of your pupils. So yeah, maybe check your ego at the door.”

He turned on the shower right where Andy was standing, causing the man to shriek and run away from the sudden water hitting him, Steve’s laugh following him out of the dressing room.

~

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @eriquin @tartarusknight @gloomysoup @morallyundefined

[staytiny-dreams]

dating streamer! beomgyu (c.bg x reader)

pairing: choi beomgyu x gn! reader

genre: streamer! au, fluff, tiny bit of angst but not really

warnings: some parts focus on covid-19 pandemic if that's a trigger for you, i think that's all but lemme know if you think i missed anything

wc: 3.4k

note: so tired at 3am i accidentally hit the post button when it wasn't ready so if you've already seen this, no you haven't. i'm unsure how it turned out so let me know, i've also never formatted it like this before so any feedback on that lemme know too, and... look forward to the other members versions <33

squeals leave beomgyu as the tension rises, the anticipation of the jumpscare he knows is coming getting the better of him

the chat speeds by

“i thought you were supposed to be good at horror games”

“what happened to beomgyu has no fear”

“we told you you should play fnaf beomie!”

“took you this long to play fnaf?”

beomgyu whines at all the ‘i told you so’ comments

“come on guyssss im so late to this how am i supposed to know you’d be interest-” he cuts himself off with a guttural scream as freddy finally makes his long awaited appearance

seeing the bamtoris laughing at him in the comments he pouts at them

“chat you distracted me okay, i let my guard down because of you!”

his pc pings with a notification and the text to speech reads out “themarcotoyourpolo says ‘HAH you are such a liar beom you would’ve screamed either way’”

when beomgyu was seventeen, he spent his time like every other teenage boy did

playing video games

but sometimes his best friend would come over and he’d pull himself away for a few hours

only to sit with you and watch streamers play other games

honestly you didn't mind when beomgyu played games when you were over

he was entertaining to watch

really entertaining actually

“hey gyu, don't you think you’d be a good streamer?” you suggested one day jokingly.

you both giggled at the little game of ‘yes and’ that followed, planning out an entire future together where beomgyu was rich and famous, and you lived in a mansion together that was just a haven for video games and your friends, but after your little tangent, the thought was dismissed as quickly as it came.

or so you had thought.

a week later, sitting across from each other at the cheapest your favourite restaurant in town, beomgyu brought it back up again.

“do you really think i’d make a good streamer?”

“why are you actually thinking about it?” you snorted, taking a sip of your water thinking he was joking again, but when beomgyu didn't say anything you tilted your head up at him.

“oh shit are you actually thinking about it?” beomgyu gave a noncommittal shrug and picked at his food, staring down at his plate. he refused to look at you until you knocked the table in front of his plate lightly.

“beomie,” you started as he stared at you with wide eyes, “i could watch you play for hours.” you don't think you could ever forget the way his smile took over his face at your words.

and that led to the next few months spent with you and beomgyu on call for hours a day

playing mostly minecraft together although occasionally he’d branch out to other games

you hit all his milestones together

he still remembers the day you first got a double digit view count

excitement flooded through the both of you as the kind soul who raided you spams your comment section

the same day, beomgyu also hit ten followers, prompting you two to make his discord server

whenever you were too busy to join him on stream beomgyu would whine and complain like his life depended on it

more often than not he’d actually end up cancelling the stream for that day

one day you didn't feel well but you decided to sit on call with beomgyu while he streams so that he wouldn't cancel

beomgyu chattered on as he normally does, yelling about how, “beomgyu never dies,” but he noticed that today you were not reciprocating that same energy.

in fact you had been so quiet that he wasn't even sure you were still alive on the other side.

“(y/n)ie are you alive over there? (y/n)? marco?” he asked and ever so faintly he heard a weak ‘polo’ sound throughout his headphones.

“one moment, chat,” he said to his 20 something viewers before deafening on discord and muting his mic.

he wriggled his phone out from where it hid in his pocket, opened your contact and called you. it dialled almost four times before you picked up.

“i’m so sorry, beomie i fell asleep. i really didn't mean to but i-” he cut you off before you could go on.

“are you okay (y/n)ie?”

“to be honest beom, i don't feel very well i-” cutting you off again, beomgyu announced that he would be coming over to cure you before promptly hanging up and ending stream leaving both you and his chatters confused.

turns out, curing you meant bringing you his mothers soup and watching youtube in bed with you until you fell asleep. your burning forehead left patches of sweat on his chest, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

from then on you had a system in place where you would check if the other was still there by calling out “marco”

and if the other person was okay they’d call back “polo”

sometimes you regretted this system on days beomgyu decided you were too quiet and abused the marco-polo system by continually calling out marco like a broken record

a little while after beomgyu turned eighteen, the pandemic started and so followed lockdown

it was a really hard time for beomgyu

you were supposed to be starting college together that year, along with your close friends from high school soobin and taehyun

but now all classes were online and he wasn't allowed to see any of his friends

going from seeing you everyday to never took a toll on beomgyu that he didn't expect

he just hated knowing you were only a few streets away and he couldn't just walk over to you whenever he felt like it

beomie :>: are you looking at the moon rn and wondering if i’m also looking at the moon rn?

ynnie <3: beom we called for six hours today

beomie :>: i know right, i miss you too :((

ynnie <3: omg fine get back on disc lets watch a movie

but with his ray of sunshine by his side, he eventually found his footing in this apocalypse

a lot of his time was spent on call with you

working on your respective assignments

watching your online lectures on 2x speed

any other free time was spent streaming

since everyone was stuck at home, due to his frequent streaming schedule

and infectious energy

beomgyu’s audience quickly grew

going from 1000 followers when lockdown had started to hitting 3000 followers within a few months

taking your advice, he also became more active on his other social medias

even posting clips of his streams on tiktok

a few of which went viral causing his channel to grow substantially again

he also started a youtube channel for those shorter games

or ideas that required more editing to execute than a stream would allow

one day, while checking his twitter dms his eyes almost fell out of his skull

he dialled you immediately

“(y/n) (y/n) (y/n) (y/n) (y/n) (y/n)!”

you took a deep breath in, prepared to repeat his name back to him in the same tone, but you didn't get the chance.

“do not copy me, we do not have time for that, this is a code blue, (y/n), code blue!”

“what on earth is a code blue?”

“big creator dmed me (y/n), come on, we’ve discussed this!”

“we’ve never discussed a code system in our entire life.”

“what that is such a lie, you just never listen to a word i say!”

“well sorry beomgyu if you talk so much nonsense that it's hard to keep up,”

“nonsense? you take that back!” he screeched, but you could only giggle at him.

“i will literally never do that. come on gyu, what’s the code blue?”

“oh, yeah! j-hope messaged me (y/n). he asked if i wanted to join his friends' discord and play among us with them.” you squealed for him, excitement rushing through you.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! beomgyu, what did you say?” suddenly beomgyu felt sheepish, realising he’d just been sitting there with the message open, too busy bickering with you to have responded.

“oh um… well, nothing yet i called you first…” now this time you screeched.

“you left 20 million youtube subscribers, 1.5 million twitch followers jung ho-seok on seen? beomgyu!” you scolded. beomgyu didn't know whether to be afraid or laugh, but his endearment got the better of him and he burst into giggles at your tone.

“don't laugh at me mister, text him back right now and tell him you’d be honoured to play with them!” and as he began to type out a reply to his senior, all beomgyu could think about was how he couldn't wait to have you in his arms again.

joining such big creators in playing among us put beomgyu in contact with even more big creators and had his channel blowing up

he met many new friends including someone who would become one of his closest friends

huening kai

as covid restrictions were eased and tightened again, beomgyu made sure to see you any time he could

but due to social distancing laws, he wasn't able to tackle you in his affection the way he wished

at the end of 2020 the second wave of covid set in

your anxious mother decided that you were not allowed to leave the house until the pandemic was over

beomgyu struggled with this news

his weekly outings walking six feet away from you - but still with you - were helping him hold on to his ray of sunshine

but with your assurance that you'd spend even more time on call with him and watch all his streams, he was able to keep his mood-maker demeanour in front of his fans

“so what are your plans for valentine’s day, (y/n)?” beomgyu asked, already knowing your answer.

with february 14th approaching, beomgyu was kicking himself for not having said anything sooner because your mother still wasn't letting you out of the house and beomgyu wanted to say what he had to say in person

“what do you mean gyu? you know i’ll still be stuck at home.”

“hm… well, maybe we could do a minecraft date, like a valentine's day special.” he suggested tentatively.

“like for your stream?” you asked and he shrugged.

“we don't have to stream.”

“but beom, aren't our friends all having dinner at soobin’s that day? don't you want to join them?” you reminded him and he simply shrugged again.

“don’t want to leave you all alone on valentines day (y/n)ie.” your face felt hot. you loved your mother to pieces, but sometimes her self imposed covid restrictions really got on your nerves.

and then march came, and for the first time in twelve years you feared you wouldn't be able to spend beomgyu’s birthday with him

“mum please, i’ll do anything,” you begged, “legally four people are allowed at an indoor private gathering.”

“and what if someone there has covid (y/n)? you have asthma it could really affect you!”

“it’s only going to be gyu, soobin and taehyun. you know all of them, you trust them! plus we’re all going to test before we go!”

“and what about transport, (y/n), what if you catch it on the bus?”

“i’ll take a taxi.”

“and what if the taxi driver has it? or what if you get in the car with a bad driver or a kidnapper?”

“mum! where is all this coming from? please. it’s beomgyu’s birthday, i can't miss beomgyu’s birthday. i swear i will never ask to go out again. just please let me go see him tomorrow.” tears welled up in your eyes. you hated fighting with your mother, but you couldn't let beomgyu down like that.

but the fight was all worth it when you knocked on soobin’s door the next night and beomgyu opened it.

he pulled you inside and slammed the door shut before squeezing you tight to his chest.

“you're here?” he asked, voice muffled as it was buried in your shoulder.

“happy birthday beom,” you smiled, arms tight around his stomach.

he pulled away from your hug and before you could joke about how your mother would never let you see the light of day again, beomgyu pulled down your mask and pressed his lips to yours.

two seconds passed where you stood still, wide eyed in shock before you registered what was happening and jumped into action.

one of his hands still held your mask, and the other came down to your cheek which you’re sure must’ve been burning him from how hot your face felt. you followed his lead, grabbing his shoulder with one hand and pushing your other through the hair at the bottom of his neck.

too soon, beomgyu pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“i’m sorry (y/n). i wanted to wait, until after lockdown, i wanted to talk to you first but i saw you and i just-”

“i love you beomgyu.” you cut off his rambling and he let out a flustered laugh.

“i love you too (y/n), i love you so much.”

due to covid still ongoing and your mother’s strict rules, you and beomgyu decided to take things slow after that night

there were no more meetings in person as you kept your promise to your mother

nothing much in your relationship with beomgyu changed due to your agreement to take things slow

he flirted a little here and there but there were no new pet names or anything of the sort

beomgyu continued to focus his energy on streaming and you continued to focus on your studies

beomgyu’s streams always providing the perfect background noise

but don't tell him that you don't devote a thousand percent of your attention to him at all times

luckily as 2022 approached, your mother began to let beomgyu visit your home provided he wore a mask in common places and if he had any symptoms he did not come over

and in april 2022 most legal restrictions were lifted

with your second booster vaccination, your mother lifted your house arrest

it had been over a year since you confessed your feelings to each other and your 20th birthday approached

you both had a big discussion about giving your relationship a real try

beomgyu now had almost half a million followers on twitch

after grinding for two years, he now had a rather large fan base

you expressed that you were a bit worried about having your relationship public to them

beomgyu didn't quite understand your concern as you had been participating in his streams and been a prevalent figure on his social media since the beginning

however, respecting your wishes, you both worked to keep the romantic nature of your relationship between yourselves and your close friends.

while beomgyu seemed to have found his schtick after 3 years of streaming

playing horror games on stream and co-op games with you for his youtube channel

and the occasional vlog

the friends he had made playing among us, huening kai, ho-seok and jungkook had begged him to join a minecraft server and stream with them

so with your encouragement

and his conditions that his partner and best friends also join the server

beomgyu joined the bighit smp started by kim namjoon

it was only a few months after you officially started dating

just before his 21st birthday and both of your fourth and final years in college

when beomgyu came to you with his proposition

“move in together?”

“is it too soon? i know we've only technically been dating a few months, but-” you cut beomgyu off with a hand on his mouth.

he stared at you wide eyed for a split second before his expression changed. luckily, you recognised the suspicious sparkle in his eye and removed your hand from his face before he could lick it, leaving him pouting at you.

“don’t look at me like that,” you giggled but his pout only deepened and he reached over to grab the hand that was previously on his face.

“so? what do you think? you wanna live with me?”

“hmm… i think…”

“(y/n)…” he whined, dragging out your name.

“i think we’ll need to find a place with an extra bedroom, so you can stream in there and not in our room.”

living with a horror streamer

most days of the week it's fun

a substantial income

your boyfriend’s always home

your boyfriend is practically fearless… in theory

okay maybe he’s only fearless when it’s fictional media

even a little bit of clout, not that it matters to you

as you always have, you tend to join beomgyu and your other friends when they play minecraft in the bighit smp

as well as being in all of beomgyu’s vlogs

since you moved in together, you decided it was best to come clean to bamtoris (his fans) about your relationship

they were very supportive

due to your presence in his channel from the beginning, there were some long time shippers who were more than pleased to hear this news

and maybe a little cocky, plastering ‘i told you’ so posts all over their socials

yes, the beomy/n truthers were very pleased

of course there were those who were convinced he was dating other streamers

or those who shipped him with his other friends, soobin and taehyun

and just general psychos who simply hated you because he wasn't dating them

nevertheless you both saw the relationship reveal as a success

so sometimes you go and sit with beomgyu while he streams, just as you used to sit on call with him

but this particular wednesday night was a tough one

you’d been up late the night before working on your final project for college

then worked from 7 to 5 even though you were originally rostered for only 7 to 12

your head was pounding

and tonight, despite the soundproofing you had installed on the walls of the office

his shouts still reached your tired ears and made your head ache

you tossed and turned for a while, not wanting to ask beomgyu to quiet down as he was clearly having fun

but, after an hour of not being able to sleep you decided you were being stupid

beomgyu would never be upset with you for not feeling well

so you rolled out of bed, padded over to his door and knocked lightly, then cracked the door open

the light from the hall spilled into the room and caused beomgyu to look over at you with a smile

his hair was fluffy and his face was lit up by his screen and his purple leds and he just looked so soft

and before you could say anything, your face crumpled

and a few tears slipped down your cheeks

immediately muting his mic, beomgyu threw his headphones off and ran over to you at the door.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, pulling you into his arms and you laughed at yourself.

“sorry, this is so stupid, i dont even know why im crying.” you mumble into his chest.

that night beomgyu ended his stream early and laid in bed with his arms wrapped tightly around you, whispering how much he loves you

and how whenever you wanted him to be quiet or even end stream he’d do it in a heartbeat

but, if you're not sick, busy or streaming with beomgyu, you're still watching his streams

and sending silly comments

you are simultaneously his favourite and least favourite chatter

your comments always make him laugh but are often at his expense

“themarcotoyourpolo says ‘poor baby, so scared of a big teddy bear’”

“you know what (y/n), get your ass in here, we'll put the headphones on you and see how confident you are then!”

but knowing you're in his chat has always given him comfort

and made him a smidge happier to be there

if beomgyu ever had zero viewers it'd be because you died and he knew that

even then if you ever wanted him to turn his computer off and hang out with you, he’d come running

at the end of the day, whether beomgyu’s screaming at his computer screen or peacefully cooking dinner with you, he is the love of your life and you wouldnt change a thing

[applestorms]

the fact that he’s looking directly at himself…

horror at the sight of your own innocence. the first thing you re-learn is that you were always cursed to fall. the rapture, the upside-down ascension, the death of the human— overcoming, overwhelming. transcending mortal bounds, crossing the bridge to the other side, seeing what makes the shadows without ever leaving the cave. self-consciousness, and the übermensch. in order to attain true godhood, one must first fully relinquish the vestigial traces of their depleting humanity. animal origins grow into human, social acceptance as the “civilized” man— but what comes next? where to go, where to run, when you fly into the sun and mistake its light for your own?

do you think it hurts, to remember?

it always shocks me how quickly he recovers after this point, how far his denial goes, the repression of his remaining empathy. the impressive extent of his dedication— and, ultimately, all for the sake of self preservation, to continue seeing the purity, the wholesomeness reaffirmed. light yagami has the survival instinct of a prey animal overdosing epinephrine. he kills two people by accident, and then takes down half the world just to prove he was right.

who is he, at this moment? where does he go when KIRA takes his body back? it seems like he accepts possession so easily, so long as it is done by the correct god— his own god, his own self. a=a, tautological identification, a soul shared between two names until the face in the mirror stops looking like yourself.

i was searching, earlier this week, for a clear instance of when he grows up— that classic coming of age moment, Manhood finally achieved. there are a few potential options to consider: his coming of age ceremony, marked by his first suit, tears shed by a chthonic companion as he matches a face to the name of the man behind the cameras. or perhaps a bit later, as he builds up to taking over the title of L, a slow transition over yotsuba as he stops automatically bowing to his father's will and takes on his role as hidden director instead. or maybe, at the very beginning? watching the notebook fall, writing his first names, his earliest stumble into grace and heavenly sanctity...

none of these moments fit. in not one of these cases does light yagami grow up. he changes, sure, he shifts, he goes through the motions, sneaks out of old cycles and breaks in the new ones. but not once does he Grow, does he sit back and truly Reflect. he looks into his past and he grieves his younger self, the stain on his soul he must take for all the lesser beings onto which he bestows his glorious salvation. he calls his actions criminal, but a necessary evil for the sake of a world, to achieve the moral standard he was always taught to uphold. he graduates. he moves out. he leaves his family behind.

but not once does he grow up.

he grows older. he watches his sister's health decline, sits by his father's deathbed and listens to him regurgitate his own lies back at him. he crawls across the dirty floor of a warehouse, soaked in his own blood, begging for the impossible as his 40 seconds tick away. he spends six years reigning as a god, believing the same lies he told himself when he was seventeen, when he made his first mistake and didn't know how to accept it. he does not move on. he does not grow.

perhaps that's the true tragedy of this moment, that for every memory he regains of the past, he learns nothing of the future. such a static entity, in the end.

compare the framing here, between ch.1 and ch.53. he never stops looking at it the same way, sweating and nervous and terrified. he knew what this entailed, right from the beginning. tragedy is to be found only in the lies he allowed himself to believe in the interim. note the addition of headphones, in the previous spread— he won't even allow himself to hear his own screams.

pack it all away, buddy. you'll face the reality of your finite, mortal lifespan soon enough.

[nerd-space]

Okay, but Josh is definetly the type of person who's got two moods when watching scary movies with you. He'll either try to scare the shit out of you, or hold you super super tight so you can't see the screen. And I just know that he gets off from scaring you (anyone else seen those ghostface josh fanfics? Exactly like that).

SADIST!JOSH LIVES RENT FREE IN MY BRAIN

warnings: Josh(yeah), Faux sympathy, FREAKY Josh, fake knife, mask kink...ghostface mask specifically, sensory deprivation, fearplay, manhandling, IMPROPER USE OF KNIFE HANDLE. im probably forgetting something like usual!

- Mean!Josh who.... whenever you get jumpy and scared at things it makes his stomach churn in a really fucked up way, getting breathy just watching the fear in your reactions to things makes him feel so gross but he thinks its sooo fucking cute

- Mean!Josh who makes you sit through horror movies even if you end up getting almost uncomfortably scared, liking the fact that he can be your little comfort when distressed. who has you sit on his lap one of the times you guys watch a movie and let you feel how hard he gets when you get scared- finally understanding why he only wanted to watch horror movies with you, finding yourself grinding against his length everytime you "get scared"... faking your fear as you rock yourself as subtly as possible against his crotch... hardly paying attention to the movie now.

- Mean!Josh has you tied down onto his bed now- your soaked underwear on display as he tugs your little pj pants off. now equipped with a ghostface mask and a playknife, not even remembering how you got here... though not complaining. who blindfolds you as your legs wriggle against his arms- which prop them apart as he blows cold breathes against your soaked underwear, purposely making you shiver and whine. He's biting and slapping your thighs until youre nearly in tears and whimpering for more. Josh wanting to hear you get scared and be completely under his mercy

- Mean!Josh likes to hurt his little pet :( finding it so hot when he takes a pretty little paddle and smacks red thick marks into your thighs and stomach, the whimpers of fear and wincing making him so hard he's breathless and almost in pain, rubbing his angry red cock against your sticky, soaked panties- practically melting at how pathetic you feel and look for him.

- Mean!Josh who fucks you with the handle of the knife first to watch you gasp and make sounds of disbelief at his action- the sounds quickly turning into little whimpers as the cold roughness of the handle fucks you slow and steady, Josh who's eyes are rolled to the back of his skull, the pain and vulgarity of fucking you with a knife and getting you fearful for him makes him so unbelievably horny he feels like he's going to overheat and die from how aroused he is

- Mean!Josh who sucks off the handle of the knife and moans, practically giving the handle a blowjob from how good you taste to him. Finally sliding his cock into you and fucking you at a newer- brutalizing pace as he smacks your tits so hard they ache, the laugh behind his mask growing as he lifts your blindfold- watching your fear riddled expression as he fucks you stupid, your mind going blank with so many emotions and things happening as your body limply gets used as a little fleshlight by your terrifyingly sexy boyfriend.

JSJSJS I I GOT TOO AHEAD OF MYSELFHEHD

[ticklygiggles]

Movie night | Lucifer, Barbatos, Solomon x Reader

Commissioned by @hakurei-k

A/N: Thank you so much for your support and patience, dear! I really hope this meets your expectations and conditions! 💖 I hope you enjoy it! 💖

Summary: You and your three boyfriends having a horror movie marathon, what could go wrong?

Words: 1.7k

You wondered how you ended up like this. Weren't you all supposed to be enjoying a movie night together? How was it that suddenly you had tears in your eyes and were laughing your spine off while six naughty hands were tickling you all over? 

“Now, aren't you enjoying this too much?” 

Ah, right. It was all that sorcerer's fault. Wasn't he the one who always said that the only two humans in the Devildom should support each other? This certainly wasn't your definition of support.

Maybe your mistake was even saying you should have a horror movie marathon with these three. 

“Are you sure about this?” Lucifer asked, letting out a soft laugh as your body got impossibly close to his. “Last time we did this I remember someone here had nightmares for a whole week.”

“It was all because Mammon accidentally cursed me, remember? Ah, Barbatos, sit closer, here,” you said, pulling Barbatos' arm and showing the big space between you and him, which was not igger than two centimeters, but he complied. “There it is, are you comfortable?” 

Barbatos chuckled behind his gloved hand before leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “I am comfortable as long as I'm close to you.” 

You chuckled and linked your two arms with one of Lucifer's and Barbatos'; your legs almost strangling Solomon, who was sitting on the floor, with his back leaning on the sofa and your legs resting on his shoulders. 

“Are we ready now?” Solomon asked with a smile, chuckling to himself when you tightened your legs around him, squishing his cheeks slightly with your thighs. 

“Yes! Play it now, Solomon!” 

This was definitely a bad idea. You thought you'd be a little braver, after all you lived surrounded by demons, literally, but horror movies always hit differently. You were tense, jumping with every little noise and change of scene and the screeches that left your lips didn't sound human at all.

You could hear your lovers laughing softly at your reactions, they looked so calm, even bored as they watched the movie. In fact, they seemed more interested in watching you than the tv and you couldn't help but blush. 

“S-stop looking at me! It- I can't help but get scARED!” 

They laughed and you hid your face against Lucifer's shoulder, screaming against his clothes. 

“Are you really that scared?” Barbatos asked, kissing your exposed beck tenderly. “This movie is…”

“... painfully predictable,” Lucifer finished Barbatos' sentence. 

“Indeed,” Solomon also chirped in. “You can tell when a jumpscare will appear… now!” 

“Aaahahaha!” Solomon's fingers were suddenly wiggling under your socked toes. He scratched the sensitive spot gently, your toes curling over his fingers. You barely had time to even get scared before you were laughing your head off, squirming between Barbatos and Lucifer and kicking your legs, trying to dislodge Solomon's fingers, but it was useless. 

“Now, would you two shut up? I can't hear the movie.” 

Solomon release your poor feet, but he still gently grabbed them as he looked up at the tv again, acting as if nothing had happened while you were trying to catch your breath.

What the hell was that right now? Solomon can be the randomest person to ever exist, although that was his charm, if you had to be honest. And he certainly didn't just act on a whim like everyone would think, he really did distract you from the jumpscare and now you weren't as scared as before. 

You chuckled, squeezing his head softly between your legs and gently rubbing his chest with your feet. He seemed to melt under your attention and you smiled, he was such a cat. 

“Look,” Lucifer said your name tenderly, pointing at the tv. You looked up, tilting your head to the side and feeling the fear starting to grow inside your chest. Oh no, something scary was about to happen, right? Your body started to tense again and you closed your eyes a bit, staring at the screen through a small slit between your eyelids. 

“Gyahh!” You squealed in surprise, feeling fingers not only digging under your toes again, but this time also under your arms. You flailed, laughing brightly as Barbatos and Lucifer pulled your arms linked to theirs away from your body so their fingers could easily tickle your armpits.

You arched your spine and tried to break free, but they were holding you nicely, limiting your movements as they tickled you silly. 

“Hohold ohohon!” You laughed, squealing again when they didn't stop. “It's nohohot scahahary ahahanymohohore!” 

Barbatos, “I think it's still very scary.” 

Lucifer, “I'm so scared, indeed, please keep laughing like this so I can get distracted.” 

“Lucifer's right, isn't it getting scarier and scarier the more you watch it?” 

You shook your head. Those were all lies and you knew it! These three can look at torture videos without even blinking. A stupid, silly movie of ghosts possessing things wouldn't do anything to them! They were just teasing you! 

Your laughter became a little more panicky as they seemed to have no intention of stopping anytime soon. Lucifer and Barbatos wiggled their fingers under your arms, scratching at the sensitive skin through the fabric of your pajamas. Solomon had left your toes to tickle your insteps, his blunt fingers skittered along the sensitive skin, making you shriek. 

That was how it had begun. The movie was quickly forgotten, your three lovers more in love with the idea of tickling you until you were crying than watching a boring horror movie. 

What could be better than making you live through a horror movie where three tickle monsters attacked you mercilessly? Oh yes, the answer was clear: nothing was better than that. 

“Plehehease!” You laughed, shaking and squirming. “I wahant to whatch the mohohovie!” 

“Do you now? Are you sure you can see anything when you narrow your eyes like that?” Lucifer asked and you blushed. You've been caught. 

“Not thehere, nohohot there!” You begged, trying to clamp your arms to your sides and to kick Solomon's hands off your feet.

To your horror, you felt Lucifer's hand slip under your shirt. His fingers touched your stomach delicately and you gasped, your cheeks reddening as you tried to cover the skin of your stomach that had been exposed with Lucifer's hand underneath, but you couldn't, your arms were trapped to theirs and you couldn't do anything about it. 

Lucifer chuckled, kissing your rosy cheek as his hand climbed up your side, fingertips brushing lightly against the back of it, close to your back but not quite. Your spine arched and a bright cackle left your mouth as goosebumps covered your skin.

“L-Luhuhucifer! Not thehere, plehehease! AH! B-Bahahaharbatos not you too- ahahaha!” 

Not only had Barbatos also moved his hand under your shirt as well, exposing more of your belly, making you whine, but Solomon had also grabbed one of your feet firmly and his blunt nails were dancing up and down the sides of your foot. 

You threw your head back in hysterical laughter, your body convulsing and arching and squirming as they tickled all of your weak spots. Barbatos and Lucifer were making you shriek embarrassingly loud as their gentle touches kept abusing those sensitive spots between your back and sides. Solomon was making you cackle and whine as he moved back to your toes, pinching them and wiggling his fingers in the spaces between them. 

Thumbs dug into those spots on your back, making you see stars as you laughed even more. Solomon had peeled off your socks and the contact to your bare skin had you screaming in laughter. 

Tears started to stream down your flushed cheeks, your laughter became more hysterical and loud and panicky, thinking that they would never stop. Their fingers would keep tickling your most sensitive spots for all eternity; at least that was how it felt and somehow… it didn't sound half bad. 

“I’M TIHIHICKLISH!” They chuckled and you shrieked with laughter as Solomon's fingers moved from your feet to your thighs. 

“What? Are you?” Lucifer purred against your ear, his breath tickling your soft skin. 

“We didn't really notice before.” That was Barbatos, whispering in your other ear. 

“Are you ticklish? What a surprise,” Solomon mumbled, kissing the inside of your thigh as his fingers squeezed that muscle above your knees, sending ticklish sparks all over your nerve endings. 

You shook your head, desperately pulling at your arms and legs, but it was useless. Your laughter slowly turned hoarse, and the hysterical sound faded until it was completely gone and you were shaking with silent laughter. 

“Do you think we should stop?” Barbatos asked with a soft chuckle, kissing your cheek as his evil fingers were digging right in the middle of your armpit. 

“Hmm, I wonder. What do you both think?” Lucifer kissed your cheek as well, playfully nibbling at it as his fingers brushed and poke that sweet spot near your back over and over and over, sending you into a spiral of ticklish desperation. 

“Should we really stop? I think they can hold it a bit longer,” Solomon mumbled, his fingers back at your poor toes. 

They were evil! Were you really going to be tickled to possibly dead? Laughing your head off as they tickle you to pieces. There was no escape, but… did you really want to escape? 

“Okay, that's it.” 

The tickling stopped as fast as it had started. You went limp into the couch, trying to catch your breath as the laughter slowly died. Warmth started to wrap around you, arms hugging your figure from everywhere as kisses were pressed all over your face and neck. 

“It tihihihickles,” you giggled breathlessly, but melted under their affection. 

“Hmm~ you're so ticklish, aren't you?” Someone whispered and you nodded. 

“And you like us tickling you, hmm?” You nodded again, giggling when one of them nibbled at your ear.

“And you want us to do it again, right?” You nodded one more time, giggling as someone grabbed your waist and started tickling you again, another pair of hands joining soon after and then one more until you were reduced to a laughing mess one more time. 

Come to think of it, you four should have more horror movie nights together!

[cliosunshine]

𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Jason Todd x dragon trainer!reader

Summary: after a portal mysteriously opened in your world, setting all of your dragons loose, you must find a way to take them all back home before it's too late and before you catch feelings for a certain cute guy in a red helmet

Warnings: none; jason struggles to come to terms with the fact that you and your dragons might actually be harmless

Word count: 4.0k

A/N: third part, yay! I finally got around to finish it. Now that i have more free time, I hope to write and post chapter four by the end of the year lol

You watched in horror at the gun pointed right in front of Pyro, your beloved albeit extremely chaotic and destructive fire dragon.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” You yelped as you raised both of your hands and fully turned towards Jason, the two of you still on Obsidian’s back and in between two building complexes, “Hood, drop the gun. Now.”

Although you didn’t know him at all, you really didn’t want the vigilante sitting behind you to accidentally get the both of you roasted like rotisserie chickens by Pyro’s fire breath.

He scoffed, clearly agitated, his gun still up in the air. You had never been that close to a weapon in your entire life and oh god was it terrifying. You then remembered he actually had two of them strapped on his thighs and gulped nervously.

“What do you mean he melted your bike?” you asked, trying to dissuade the situation. You noticed how Pyro was eyeing Red Hood with a knowing look and that gave you more reason to believe that they had actually met before.

“That asshole came up to me, tried to fire his stupid flames in my direction and then he had to set my building’s garages on fire, melting my bike in the process,” his exasperated tone made you look away, heat spreading across your face in embarrassment at your dragon’s actions. It was like having another adult telling you about something bad your child had done.

You eventually sighed in defeat, “Can you at least lower your gun? We can talk about his whole ordeal later, but right now you’re scaring him,”

You couldn’t see it, but by the way he began laughing humourlessly you knew he had a baffled look on his face.

“I’m scaring him?”

“Yes, very much so”

A beat passed, but he eventually strapped his gun away, definitely giving the dragon a dirty look.

In the meantime, you began taking your lasso out, ready to stand up. As you did so, Pyro understood what that action meant and bolted away, flapping his burgundy scaled wings faster than you had thought imaginable.

Fuck.

“Obi, go!” That was everything you needed to say to make him begin chasing his buddy. He, too, was frustrated by his out-of-pocket behaviour. As you skimmed through the skyscrapers of the city, you felt Hood’s arms snake up your waist again, squeezing you gently. You could feel his gloved fingers twitching against the fabric of your sweater as you leaned forward and planted your hands in between your dragon’s horns, making him fly faster.

It was a tiring game of cat and mouse, but with all the times you had to retrieve Pyro back at home, you were pretty confident in yours and Obsidian’s abilities.

As predicted, the fire dragon’s erratic and impulsive nature led him to an enclosed area, where it seemed the nearest exit for him was by your right. As if sensing it too, Obsidian repositioned himself, so that his wing span could block the exit in its entirety.

Jason watched you as you took the glowing lasso in your hand.

His eyes followed your every move and they widened when you suddenly got up on your feet, your stance incredibly stable for someone who had to balance on a breathing and flying creature that was all scales and ridges, with no flat surface to stabilize themselves on.

“I’m sorry for doing it with you here, too,” you apologised with a focused look toward your target. Jason could only nod as he admired you, his own raging thoughts that were previously aimed at the dragon completely dissipated at the sight of you looking like an off-duty Amazon. The fierce look on your face was something you reserved only to the dragons that were acting out and he hoped to never be on the receiving end of it. It was completely juxtaposed to the very sweet and playful disposition you had shown thus far and he didn’t want the light-hearted banter between the two of you to cease just yet. He still didn’t know whether to trust you or not: this whole situation seemed too ridiculous to be true, yet here you were, swinging your lasso with incredible agility as you remained calm and focused.

If Jason had blinked, he would’ve missed it.

You threw the hoop over the dragon’s head and it swiftly slipped on his neck. Only then did Jason notice how small his head was when compared to the other dragons he had seen. The lack of spikes and red eyes made this one look so uncanny and terrifying that he would’ve been scared if he wasn’t still pissed off about his bike.

“Gotcha,” you put the rope in Obsidian’s mouth and sat back down, careful where to put your feet since you had a guest now.

“I’m sorry about Pyro,” you began to apologize to Jason, who could only look at you, “he’s very impulsive and may or may not have incredible anger issues, which isn’t rare for dragons to have but his are atrocious,”

Jason hummed, his mind elsewhere. That lasso looked too much like Diana’s for his own liking, but he decided not to question it whilst mid-air on your extremely protective dragon’s back.

The ride back was peaceful and you managed to coax some of your more mild-tempered overgrown puppies to follow you. They truly did resemble dogs, those ones, with their tails wagging side to side and curiously eyeing Jason.

So, from what he figured by analysing the situation and these creatures, he just had to have the worst luck in the entire universe to meet and irate the deranged and feral one.

He huffed a laugh that seemed to turn your gaze onto him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’,” he shrugged, “just thinking about how, out of all the Tolkien-esque creatures you have, I had to piss off the clearly mentally unstable one”

You shushed him, a mix of shock and amusement in your face.

“Don’t talk about Pyro like that! He’s a troubled boy…he’s been through a lot and is still recovering,” you said as you looked towards him: he was now engaging in a one-sided game of tug war with Obi, who was clearly not having none of it by the way he puffed smoke in the younger dragon’s face as a warning.

You could only huff, some strands of hair on your face lifting up in the process.

It didn’t even feel like Jason was flying above Gotham’s skyline. With the easy conversation and the effortless way you were talking with him, he eased up as if the two of you were just taking a stroll in a park, like you had just done moments ago.

Before he knew it, you had reached the manor and hopped off Obsidian’s back.

There, all of the people residing in it were in the garden, watching the two of you approach them. Alfred’s eyes widened ever so subtly and Jason barked out a laugh as he took his helmet off and walking up to him.

“Hey, Alfred, I’m sorry but those guys there have destroyed half of your topiary,” he said as he rested a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“I see,” said the butler with a slightly unamused look on his face, “I hope you successfully retrieved every ingredient for Goliath’s compress. Master Damian hasn’t stopped blaming himself for his skin rash since your departure,”

“I’ve got everything I need, Alfred!”

The two men turned around at the sound of your voice. You had just finished talking to Bruce, informing him that only two dragons were left to catch and that they would eventually follow the scent of the pack and come back without a fuss.

“Very well then, miss,” and with that you approached Damian, who was petting and consoling a rather shy and trembling Goliath, clearly agitated by whatever he was looking at behind your back.

You followed his gaze and laughed as you saw 14 dragons staring back with great curiosity and caution at the big ball of red fur. Now that he thought about it, Goliath sure was a strange dragon: he was significantly smaller than any of yours and was covered in bright red fur, whereas all you dragons sported muted colours and had scaled bodies, more often than not adorned with spikes.

You cooed at him, getting closer at the creature. Managing to crush every ingredient into a green mush, you began to delicately massage it over his worse spots.

Clearly spooked by the cold mixture, Goliath growled at you, snapping his wide mouth mere centimetres from your face and making you jump in surprise.

Before you could apologise and try to calm the dragon down, Obsidian lunged at him with a roar as he pinned the supposed threat to the ground, not letting him go. He puffed smoke in his face, never quite spewing flames out of his mouth. Jason was on alert right away as was everybody else. Even the other dragons grew tense as the watched the scene unravel: some seemed to growl at Goliath with the same protective instinct Obsidian had, whilst others grew shy and retreated behind some of the bigger ones.

“Get your dragon in check, Y/N,” Jason warned, his eyes never leaving the scene in front of him.

He understood why Obsidian lunged at Goliath like that, but he’d be damned before he saw Damian’s most beloved pet get torn to pieces right in front of him.

“What do you think I’m doing?” you quipped back, clearly as agitated as everyone else. Jason almost felt bad for snapping at you, but he truly didn’t know what your intentions were yet and he surely wasn’t going to take any chances.

Everybody watched you carefully as you approached the dragon, whispering something in his ear before Obsidian let go of Goliath’s neck and lowered his head at you. From where they were standing, it seemed like he was almost apologetic.

The more distance grew between Obsidian and Goliath as he retreated back to the rest of the pack, the more everybody, including Jason, seemed to visibly relax.

Here he found another reason not to trust that creature.

You returned your ministrations on Goliath who was still eyeing you warily but let you treat him nonetheless.

Clearing his throat, Damian thanked you before beginning to make his way back to the cave.

“Wait-“ you put and arm out, trying to stop them from walking away so suddenly, “I know that wasn’t the best first impression from Obi. I apologise, but he was just doing what he thought was right at the moment.”

Damian only nodded and Jason raised his brows in surprise at a lack of snarky response from the boy.

“I don’t know where you found him, but Goliath certainly isn’t like any types of dragons I had ever seen before…if you want to, he can come closer to my pack so that they can introduce themselves.”

Damian scanned your face for any signs of malice behind your proposition but after not being able to find any, he accepted. He tried to conceal his excitement at getting his beloved pet to make friends and know more about his kind, but the whole family was quick to catch onto that.

Bruce put a reassuring hand on Damian’s back and encouraged him to walk over them.

One by one, you introduced the dragons to everyone. The light coming from a garden lamp nearby made the creatures less menacing as they looked around curiously, taking in their new surroundings. Helios, the wind dragon and a bunch of other ones where actually pretty chill and very friendly, so much so that they let everybody pet them. Dick appreciated that greatly as he nearly flung himself at a smaller dragon, hugging it. You explained that was a wyvern and her name was Quartz.

“What’s up with their names?”

You looked at Stephanie as you pet Obsidian’s ears, “Oh, we just decided to stick with names that represented either their appearance or abilities,” you explained, “Obi’s completely black, Helios can manipulate and generate wind, Pyro can spew flames out of his mouth-”

Jason grumbled at that, crossing his arms on his chest.

He was the only one who hadn’t gotten closer to the flock. Even Bruce leaned curiously near one of your more relaxed and friendly creatures, not coming too close and definitely analysing its strengths and weaknesses.

Jason scanned his eyes on the scene, before his gaze locked onto yours.

You had a small smile on your lips, your expression unreadable. Were you sizing him up? Were you silently mocking him?

He didn’t like how worked up he got about what you could think of him. He never cared about what other people thought, so why on earth was he now inching closer and closer towards you and Obsidian?

The black dragon only side-eyed him before returning his attention back to Goliath, who was sniffing and ogling his scaled cheeks in interest. Besides him, Damian was talking you ear off about the ice cave he found him in while on a mission.

You nodded with a smile on your face.

“They seem to love them”

You chuckled, “They love the attention and chin scratches, that’s what they love,”

In the distance, you could hear some sirens wailing through the city’s streets.

“Isn’t this whole dragon problem going to mess up your work?”

Jason shrugged, “Not really. All the bad guys that we could get are already in GCPD’s station. If not, they helped scare everyone off, making them barricade in their homes”

Obsidian huffed and you laughed.

“He really doesn’t like me, does he?”

You shook your head in agreement with a laugh.

“He’s just wary of all men. He doesn’t have anything against you, really,” you explained reassuring him, but the way the black dragon was almost mocking him with his challenging eyes told him otherwise.

Jason kept his mouth shut for your sake.

The temperature had dropped significantly and the chilly night seemed to have seeped into everybody’s bones. When you spoke, a cloud of breath vapor came out of your parted lips.

As if one cue, Alfred ushered everybody inside, ignoring their complaints and their claims to be perfectly fine through clattering teeth.

“What about them?”

Bruce glanced back at you and Jason. The dragons were huddled up by your side and were showing signs of sleepiness by drooping their heads.

“We can’t let them out here, B,” interfered Jason, looking at his father, “who knows what sort of crazy stories will circle out tomorrow if they see the very creatures that reigned terror in Gotham the night prior, all cozied up in Wayne manor?”

Bruce gave him a pointed look before composing himself, “they will stay at the batcave with Goliath. I’ve already initiated the dragon protocol when you were gone.”

After tucking your dragons to bed (and after reassuring Obsidian that just one night of not sleeping by your side won’t actively kill him), Alfred showed you the suite guest room before leaving you to yourself. The others had already bid their goodnights and you also met two more members of the vigilante ‘family’, if you could call it that. Oracle and Signal were friendly and showed interest in your occupation, making you promise to introduce them to the flock tomorrow morning.

But now, tossing and turning in your bed after a nice hot shower, sleep didn’t seem like an option for you.

You huffed, clearly frustrated by the weird feeling of emptiness and anxiety that sat heavy in your chest, before completely giving up on getting a nice night of sleep and getting up.

Only clad by a pair of long pyjamas kindly given to you by Alfred, you silently made your way out of your room and into the hallway. The goal was to reach the kitchen to get a glass of water, but as you passed the living room, something outside the large patio windows caught your attention.

It was the broad figure of someone sitting on one of the benches outside. You could barely make out their features due to the lack of lighting, but the familiar green glow you had spotted earlier on was a dead giveaway.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask Hood once you made your way outside and stopped by his right.

He only hummed in response, not glancing up from the ground. He was wearing dark grey sweatpants and a black hoodie with the hood up. His hands were inside the hoodie’s pockets and he sat slightly crouched, like he wanted to make himself smaller.

You tilted your head in curiosity at that.

“Can I sit here? I can’t catch a single ounce of sleep, too,”

He hummed once more, not bothering again to give you a proper answer. You sat down next to him, keeping your distance as you leaned back and gazed up at the sky. You noticed how warm and slightly stuffy it actually was in your room now that you were out here and a light breeze ran past you, raising goosebumps on your cheeks.

You stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Hood decided to speak up.

“Can I ask you something?”

You turned to him, unable to read his expression and nodded.

“Where did you get that lasso?”

It took you a moment to unfog your mind before you realized what he was referring to. Diana’s lasso.

You shrugged, “It was a gift from a very dear friend of mine,” you answered casually, looking at the man next to you, “Why do you ask?”

He didn’t reply immediately, instead he settled for looking at you as if trying to determine whether you were telling the truth or not, his gaze boring right to your side. He decided on the former and sighed, “I’ve seen that lasso before. Everybody here knows that it belongs to one person and one person only-”

“-Diana Prince?”

You saw the way his eyes widened like saucers and chuckled to yourself, “What? You know her, too?”

He took off his hood, an incredulous look on his face, “Everybody knows her! She’s Wonder Woman, for god’s sake, who doesn’t?”

You shrugged again, feigning ignorance on the matter, “All I know is that one day I happened to help a young Amazon out with her jet and taught her how to ride on Obsidian and before she left, she gifted me her lasso,” you explained with a small smile on your face, “she said it would be the only thing that could possibly be able to keep an animal as cunning as a dragon at bay, and wouldn’t you like to know, it’s true!”

The look on Hood’s face was causing you to let another laugh out but you contained yourself. There were clearly gears turning in his head and you patiently waited for the next question you knew was to follow.

The man ran a hand across his face, now fully alert and frustrated with this new piece of information he was provided with.

“But- How did she- …You know?”

“Beats me,” you say sincerely, shaking your head in your own disbelief, “she said she was on a mission with her team someplace near their headquarter that apparently is in space? I was so confused but decided not to prod her on that. She was distressed but told me a portal opened, just like the one I came here in,” you rubbed your neck as you tried to remember what Diana had told you many years ago.

Your eyes lit up as a memory resurfaced. Hood straightened up immediately.

“She said some doctor or professor was trying to prove the string theory was real and went mad? I don’t remember the name, but she said it was someone her team had been dealing with on a regular basis…what was his name,” you looked up to the sky with a pout, as if hoping the stars would give you the piece of information you were missing.

“Was it Mr. Freeze?” Hood began asking, nearly at the edge of the bench with how much he got worked up in such a small window of time, “Or maybe doctor Death? – he was probably in Arkham when the first incident happened though – What about Professor Milo-”

You jumped as you clasped your hands in recognition, “Yes, that one! Milo!”

Hood looked relieved but then his face fell again, “Milo’s been dead for the past three years,” he huffed out, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning back.

“Oh…maybe someone who would continue his legacy or that had the same manic tendencies? Maybe someone who could dwell in sorcery of some kind?”

He seemed to contemplate your words with a slight nod, “I’ll look into it tomorrow after I tell B and the rest”

You muttered an ok and silence fell again between you once more.

“So, you’re not planning on attacking us with your flock of dragons?”

You laughed right at his face as you leaned back, holding your stomach, “You sure are a funny guy, Hood,” you said with a smile, “if those really were my intentions, the city would have been reduced to ashes hours ago.”

He nodded once, “Good, ok…”

“Come on, you can ask me whatever question has been bugging you from the moment I first stepped foot in this place,” you encouraged him, tilting your head to the side.

He seemed to hesitate before he turned to you with a sheepish smile, “It’s just that- you know…dragons? Really? They seem like they shouldn’t even exist with the way they look! – no offence to them or you for that matter, but-”

“What about Goliath?”

“Goliath’s different. He’s way smaller, for starters, but he was also found by Damian during one of his missions, when he came across a tomb of some ancient kings…he’s family, and he really acts like an overgrown puppy,”

You hummed in agreement, “And you think my babies are too feral and only capable of destroying everything they touch?”

“…Yes?”

“If you just hate Obsidian and Pyro you can say so, you know. I won’t get offended; I know they’re a handful.”

The man puffed out his cheeks as he looked away, “I’m still mad about my bike, that’s all…and your dragon is a jerk-”

You gasped at that.

“No, he’s not! Is he very territorial and does he hate all men that come too close to him? Yes, but look at you! You managed to get on his back,” you exaggerated stupor with your hands, “No man’s ever managed to do that before, just so you know,” you smiled playfully as you nudged him with your shoulder, “if anything, I think you can’t stand each other because you two have the same temperament.”

“I am nothing like that moron of a dragon-”

“Stop calling Obsidian names!”

“I’m not calling him anything. I simply deal in facts.”

You snorted at that. The chilly breeze that covered your body in goosebumps was seemingly forgotten as you shook your head in disbelief at his word.

Laugher was shared and the tension on Hood’s shoulders seemed to subdue the more you spent talking out there in the cold.

Another chill ran through you that you couldn’t ignore and you quickly got up, “I’m freezing my ass off here. I’m sorry, Hood, but I must go back before I die of hypothermia-”

“Jason.”

You stilled as if you got struck by lightning. With your mouth still open, you managed to mutter out a Sorry what? To the amused man sitting in front of you.

“My name. It’s Jason. You can drop ‘Hood’…we were keeping our names private in case you had heard of us from somewhere,”

“Oh, yeah. Right, Jason- Uhm, I’m Y/N”

“I know that, you told me back at the botanic garden,”

“Ah, yes,”

You didn’t know why, but knowing Jason’s name sent you into short circuit for a minute. You didn’t expect him to do such a thing, yet again you mulled over how many things didn’t go as expected in just a single night, so you silently accepted it.

“You want to join me on the couch? We can drink some tea and watch something on the tv to pass time?”

His only response was a nod with a smile and you both stepped back inside the manor, now knowing something more about each other.