#so maybe ill just go FUCK IT we ball!! better to draw than to not draw at all. or ill just stream 2 outlet the 'hehe i love so many things'

[crescentfool]

ohh the joy of videos and streams... i like listening to people talk about things they like/think about it’s very contagious... 🥺

[justwinginglife]

The Waiting Game

The line between friends and lovers is dangerously thin and Soshiro Hoshina likes to fucking cartwheel down that tightrope like it's his personal plaything.

Any stranger walking by could see he was clearly checking you out, but if asked, he'd simply shrug and say something about how it was his duty as your friend to make sure your fly was zipped or your socks were matching. He never thought to make himself less obvious as he took in the sight of your shirt that dangled just a little too low or your pants that hugged your curves just a little too tight. He didn't have to. If you claimed to notice his wandering gaze, you'd be setting yourself up for a witty rebuttal. He might say, "Oh, look who's paying so much attention to me, if I didn't know better, I'd say you liked me," or even, "Don't go telling me you didn't wear those clothes on purpose, we both know the truth." He had all sorts of banter at the ready, quips locked and loaded. He wanted to corner you, to checkmate you, to coax a confession from your supple lips. Of course he loved you. But it was much more fun to make you admit you loved him too.

And you did. You wore that shirt on purpose, you wore those pants on purpose. You bent over in those pants on purpose. But two could play at this game, and you were awfully good at chess.

If he was a tightrope walker, you were a sword swallower. You could take anything he'd throw at you, gulp it down, lick your lips, and have room for seconds. Maybe throw in a burp for good measure.

So the circus act continued, both of you juggling offense and defense, both of you thinking yourself the lion tamer. It was anyone's guess at this point, who would cave in first.

You pictured the two of you on your deathbeds, your hands wrinkled with age, still trying to wring a confession from each other's throats. It was honestly a terrifying notion, thinking that eighty years from now, your feelings might accompany you to the grave, unvoiced, unreciprocated. But it hadn't been eighty years yet, it had only been one, and your pride was still in prime condition, even despite Soshiro's attempts to wear it down.

When he bragged to you about his hot date, eager for your reaction, you simply pointed him to your favorite flower shop and told him what to buy her. When he ended up not going through with it because some mysterious illness overtook him, an illness that only lasted the length of what would have been the date, you simply smirked and remarked on how convenient it was that his condition was so particular. He had shrugged, saying, "Maybe I was allergic to her, who knows?" You had laughed and he had smiled. Then you both went about your usual day, stealing time from each other whenever you could, sneaking glances, subtly inching closer, the distance both an inch and a galaxy apart.

The gap only widened when Captain Ashiro relayed to the Third Division news of the Winter Ball. It was like prom for soldiers, and when you heard the announcement, you felt like you were right back in high school- everything infamously familiar, right down to the nerves that threatened to swallow you whole.

You could always pull the, "You're single, I'm single, let's go as friends," card. But you weren't sure that either of you would be content with that resolution. Neither one of you wanted to resign yourselves to a night of awkwardly sitting at a side table, using small talk to fill the simmering silence, as you watched other couples slow dance their way into oblivion.

But unfortunately for the both of you, rather than declare a draw, your little game with each other continued, even as the event drew nearer. You'd ask him who he was going with, feigning nonchalance, and he'd dodge the question, feigning ignorance.

At some point, you bought yourself a dress, though you had no idea why. There was only a week to go, and still, no one had asked you for the pleasure of your company on that night, not even him. You weren't sure you should even go. But still, you let your hopes drape from a hanger in your closet, in case maybe he decided to overturn the chessboard, throw the match, ask you out.

Narumi beat him to the punch.

When you asked him why he was asking you so late in the game, he merely shrugged, saying he hadn't realized the ball was happening in the first place, but now he knew and he wanted you.

Soshiro had caught wind of it.

He ignored you until an hour before the dance.

He knew you liked to hide on the roof when you got nervous, and as he climbed the stairs to the top, he begged you to be there. He hoped you were having second thoughts about going with Narumi. He hoped you were pacing in your dress, waiting for him to whisk you away, because he was ready to whisk you away. He had dragged his feet through this whole fucking charade, and now he suddenly found his own pace too exceedingly, disgustingly slow for his liking.

When he got to the roof, all that awaited him was a cold breeze and the night sky. He collapsed on the floor, leaning back to take in all the stars. He didn't care anymore if he got his suit dirty, he only wore it for you anyway. His finger traced patterns of constellations as the white of his breath stained the air. He wished on every single star that he could see you tonight, all dressed up and gorgeous. He didn't have to see you to know you looked stunning. But he had planned to go home after he finished this sulking session. He didn't want to see how happy you looked with Narumi. Of all the people, why did it have to be him? The idea of you with anyone else but him made him ache, but the idea of you with Narumi made him want to tie a noose around his neck.

Another half hour of brooding later, he decided he needed to go home. That, or freeze to death, which would serve him right. But he turned towards the door and suddenly, there you were, his light in the dark, his warmth in the cold. And you were dazzling. He knew you would be. You always were, no matter what you were wearing.

"Y-you're here."

You nodded. "I'm here. And you're here. Why are you here?"

He pulled his jacket tighter around him. "This is your spot."

You raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it is. Were you looking for me?" You tried to keep the hopefulness out of your voice, but it seeped into the frosty air all the same.

He fidgeted with his cufflinks, nodding slowly.

You began walking over to him, and he knew you were going to sit down so he quickly took his jacket off for you to sit on. He didn't want to ruin your dress.

You shook your head at him. "You look freezing, put your jacket back on. How long have you been out here anyway?" You threw his jacket back around his shoulders, plopping down next to him, unbothered by your dress.

He blushed and looked away. "That's not important."

The silence resumed.

"It's your favorite color." You blurted out suddenly, desperate to fill the air with something, with anything.

He immediately knew you meant your dress. He had noticed. "It's nice."

You coughed.

He chuckled. "Alright, it's more than nice. You look breathtaking. Seriously, I'm having trouble breathing with you so close to me." He teased as he nudged you with his shoulder, trying to make light of the awkward situation.

"You don't look so bad yourself. Even for someone who's half frozen to death. So why were you looking for me?"

He bit his lip. "Had a, uh, question... for you."

You settled your head on his shoulder and you felt him tense up. "And what's this question of yours that's so important you almost gave yourself frostbite?"

"Will you.... will you go to the dance with me?" He held his breath as the words left his mouth.

You laughed. "Little late, don't you think? We're about a half hour away from it."

He groaned. "I know, I know. But don't go with Narumi. Please don't. He wouldn't know romance if it shit in his lap. He doesn't know how to treat a woman."

You smirked. "And you do?"

He looked at you properly for the first time that night, his gaze locked on yours with a sudden sense of determination. "Yes, I do. If that woman is you. I know everything about you. I have to. Knowing you is the second greatest pleasure of my life."

"And..." The words caught in your throat, "And what's the first?"

"Loving you."

Your heart soared in your chest. "I love you too."

"So will you be my date to the dance? And the rest of my life?"

You kissed him in response.

Suddenly the cold faded from your bodies, the frigid air rescinding itself from your lungs, as your warmth intermingled in a display of passion.

"So, what should I call this, checkmate?" You teased him as you pulled away from his lips, leaving him wanting more.

He rolled his eyes but nothing could make him less smitten than he was right now. "I call this me throwing the match."

"Well, better late than never, baby."

You kissed him again.

And then the both of you danced the rest of the night into oblivion together.

[evelina18-6-blog]

(this is so long, i am so sorry)

i understand why the artist was offended because your post made some pretty strong if not aggressive arguments, and i'm sure some assholes took the opportunity to send that person anon hate which probably made it feel more like a personal attack than it actually was, but i am honestly so sick and tired of people using their real life trauma as an excuse for every single thing. i may not have some deep, life altering trauma but i have my own issues and experiences and i too use fiction and art to cope but here we're not just talking about fiction and art, hell we're not talking about fiction at all. the ethics of shipping real life people are already questionable enough and i don't think there's a clear cut and dry answer but taking someone so repulsive, so downright dangerous, as Vargs and not only making cute artworks of him a if he's your casual anime boy, but also shipping him with a person who hated him, is inexcusable. just saying that you don't like or support Vargs is not enough when you have practically dedicated an entire account to making fanart of him. the Mayhem community is already messy enough and by doing that, they downplay what a piece of shit Vargs is and the pain he caused. (no matter how unintentional). also can we talk about Pelle for a moment? claiming to like him and pair him with such a horrible person? using him as a prop and completely ignoring his real life relationships and beliefs? how is that fair? people are already infantalizing him enough because of his mental illness and possible autism. how about realizing that Pelle is not a prop? that he was a person who deserves respect and that drawing him in the embrace of his friends murderer, is not being respectful to say the least? what about Oystein? no one seems to want to address were Olystein fits in this situation at all, why? was he not the person affected the most by Vargs? was he not his victim? putting his friend with his murderer feels like a huge fuck you to him. overall, painting someone in a positive light and later going 'lol im just kidding' is not good enough. Vargs (amongst others..) has spend the majority of his time insulting, belittling, even sexualizing Oystein, in an attempt to ruin his legacy and he has mostly succeeded because he's surrounded by cowards like himself who don't have the balls to stand up and speak the truth. the first thing people come across when researching Mayhem is the same bullshit about what a ''terrible'' person Oystein was and how he ''needed to be stopped''. this is the narrative Vargs has created and if you don't care enough to look deeper, you'll end up believing his lies and blaming a dead person. therefore such artwork, that completely rewrites the history and relationships of these people, can be very dangerous because it can actualy help Vargs into better selling his stupid narrative. i'm not saying that this particular artist is a bad person or that they're lying about their trauma or any bullshit like that, but art affects real life and the moment you post sth online you've opened yourself to criticism. do these Vargs/Pelle fics have more depth than initially presented? maybe. maybe they truly are a great psychological analysis of Vargs (although i don't understand why the hell you'd want to touch that with a ten-foot pole) but you can't blame people for not seeing that. whenever i see fanart of a ship, i don't sit wondering what the artist wants to say with their piece, i either like it bc i like the ship or i don't. if this is your copying mechanism, fine. can't criticize someone's copying mechanisms without sounding like an asshole i guess. but my advice is that maybe people need to take a better look at themselves and see how their interests affect others as well. you can do whatever in your own time but when you post it online it contributes to sth bigger whether you like it or not.

Don't worry about the length of your messages. I like that you elaborate. I agree with everything and thank you for your message. I honestly don't understand when this person says that she is NOT a fan of Varg, or that she doesn't like him and makes fun of him. I haven't seen anything mocking. I've only seen a great idealization of the young Varg, who was a horrible person, more violent than the current Varg. And a certain idealization of the "wonderful" intellect of the current Varg. I'm sorry to say that "the mockery" is poorly done. Like when you have to explain a joke, if no one understand it, it's because it's done poorly. About Pelle, I liked this: "claiming to like him and pair him with such a horrible person? using him as a prop and completely ignoring his real life relationships and beliefs?" Yes, that's why I said Pelle is not a ball that goes from here to there. I also agree that no one seems to think what's going on with Euro in this situation. In my case, it is almost the first thing that shocks me, it is a double offense towards him. That's why I wonder if there is something, deep down, against the Euro. Because romanticizing Varg SO MUCH, yes or yes, for me, brings with it some kind of sympathy for his ideologies, therefore, some kind of resentment towards Euro. When people attack Euro, they generally resort to two things: lies about the mistreatment of Pelle, and his political inclinations, painting him as an authoritarian extremist fanatic. And therefore, Varg as a person who was encouraged to go further and do "something that many would want to do." Varg is a failure who does not know how to value the only good thing in him, his musical talent. He did not know how to value the influence of Euro and the environment in which he found himself. Now he is a clown who needs to resort to ridiculing himself on the internet to stay current, so that his morbid followers consume him "as ironic consumption." It's an internet phenomenon. And he is free only because the Norwegian prison regime is very soft. I think he should be under psychiatric treatment because he can't stop being a bad influence, even on his children, or they should send him to hard labor, so that he can channel his anger through physical labor instead of the internet. Perhaps the girls who draw Varg romantically and the people who are big fans of him beyond his music do not specifically have his same ideologies, but they admire him in some way, and it is clear that his systematically offensive attitudes are not enough to stop them and scare them away I sincerely feel that they see him as a master. I see Varg as the typical cult leader, and I feel cringe at the adoration they profess of him. "i'm not saying that this particular artist is a bad person or that they're lying about their trauma or any bullshit like that, but art affects real life and the moment you post sth online you've opened yourself to criticism." What you said sums it up. I don't doubt that this girl could be harmless in real life, and that she has traumas and that her art and fanfics help her in her introspection. I fully believe her when she says it, but the debate does not end with whether something is therapeutic or not. It is up to her to choose what things to express her art on. She don't lack talent, why do you choose Varg? That's what's shocking, I mean, it's shocking that she brings Pelle into this and twists history to support her capricious ship and celebrate that more and more people join her ship. There you can see that she doesn't do it for herself, she wants more people to romanticize Varg and have the vision of Pelle that she has, which, in my opinion, is a bit humiliating and objectifying.

[its-afucking-mess]

hope yall like kids because today's idea is working at a daycare!!!!

at first, thomas was kinda like "ehhhhhhhh", he wasnt the biggest fan of kids but he still smiled at them when they called his name and replied when they asked him questions

________

so like, lets say u really like kids, cause i mean some are literal balls of sunshine and compliments and stupid moments. but u arent ready for ur own child and the responsibility of taking care of and raising a human, so u decide a private daycare is the best place for you to work at. plus, u used to be a kid in there, so it felt natural

over the time he came to pick u up from daycare for dates, or because he felt like it. he didnt mind the kids lunging at him when they saw him, not that much at least. it was cute that they liked him so much they wanted to hug him, he started to feel honoured.

it becomes standard practice for him to come by the daycare at least an hour before your shift ends so he can spend some time with the little girls that warmed up to him over the times he came to pick u up. and its fucking adorable ill tell u that

little demo/ actual fic part ig:

You hold the paper drawing close to your chest, hugging the little girl as she beamed with pride. "It is the best gift I've ever gotten. Thank you" you say, and she giggles in your embrace. She was used to giving you gifts, and her drawings were the thing you looked most forward to at the end of the day.

"No gift for me?" Thomas complains, and he crosses his arms across his chest, mock hurt. "I have an even better gift for you!!!" she all but squeals, and you can't begin to think what it could be.

The girl motions for Thomas to kneel down to her level, and he does just that, sitting on the soft carpet cross legged. The girl climbs on his lap and gives him a peck om the cheek, giggling as she pulls away from him.

Thomas seems in awe, and the cutest smile is etched on his face. "Are you sure I deserve it?" he asks, mouth fallen open. The girl seems very entertained, a satisfied smile on her face as she nods at Thomas. Your boyfriend smiles back at her, grabbing her little body and holding her high in the air, spinning her a couple times just as he knows she likes. The little girl is screaming with laughter and the same screech that made Thomas cringe less than two months ago now made the smile on his face brighter than the overhead lamps.

He sets her down, and she pulls him in a hug. It looks comical, their height difference has Thomas curled over in a ball so she can hug him. You can't help but beam at them.

You reflectively check the clock above their heads, and the time nears 5pm. "Ann, how about you go get your stuff ready? Mommy will be here any moment, and we have to tell her how good you've been today". She nods along and runs to the room with the little desks, gathering her stuff.

"Apologise"

Thomas looks at you confused. "You hated kids when I met you,". Thomas relaxes his shoulders, a breathy laugh leaving his throat. "Okay fine, you were right. Maybe not all kids are little shits that scream when you are trying to sleep on any means of transport"

You stiffle a laugh at his phrasing. "God, you make my job so much harder" you admit, and he furrows his brow, crossing his hands in front of his chest. "I thought I made it easier and more fun?". You eye him from your peripheral and his composure wavers. "All the girls I have after three are all on you! Always asking where you are because they want a hug or something"

Thomas sucks in an amused giggle. "Long gone are the hugs I used to get from them when the mum's dropped them off," you complain, and Thomas can't hold the amused chuckle.

"Oh, you want hugs too?" he asks, letting his arms drop to his side. "Well, you're just in luck, my arms are empty right now". You turn at Thomas, and he is inching closer, arms spread out. "Thomas wai-" you don't get a chance to finish your sentence before he's on you, holding you tight as you try to relax your hands.

"Thomas wait, god-" you say, hands holding on his hips hard when he moves to hug you from the back, pulling you off your feet. A surprised yelp leaves your mouth when he spins you both around, your hands holding his forearms where he is resting them, just a but lower than your shoulders.

You calm down from the surprise hug attack, but he attacks your neck next, leaving little pecks and kisses all over it. You try your hardest not to squeal too loud, even if his lips are tickling your neck. Little laughs drop from his mouth and hus breaths just make the tickling sensation worse. You try to free yourself from his embrace but his grip is strong, and you can't hold back the high pitched calls of his name as he continues to run his lips all over your neck, avoiding your thrashing hands expertly.

You aren't sure you can even form proper sentences. "Thomas, stop please, god, I have to talk to Annie's m-uh m," you try, and he pulls away with a giggle. You try to catch your breath before locking eyes with the mum in question.

"Shi- I mean, oops. I am so sorry, someone distracted me," you say, glaring daggers at your boyfriend. The mum doesn't seem too impressed, just busy on her phone.

"I'll get Ann, if you may stay with Tom for a second, I promise he's nice" you say and the mum dismisses you with a wave of her hand.

You shake your head as you go looking for Ann in the playground, smiling too wide at the redness Thomas made on your neck from his stubble.

[thecolordemon]

Haha hi :) I already asked but I wanna do it properly here. So, can I request headcanons abt the brothers reactions after knowing that MC had an incurable disease and they're gonna die soon? Thanks! 💕 (Btw I LOVE ur drawing)

Of course you can😊 It will be my first time writing Angst in the english language🤣😅 but I hope you'll enjoy it either way because who doesn't like to suffer a little bit? @flyme--tothemoon I added some shortstorys to the headcanon because...I couldn't help myself.

Request: Headcanons-How would the brothers react after knowing that MC had an incurable disease and that they're gonna die soon?🥺😭

⚠️Angst, Sadness, mentions of illness and death⚠️

*Lucifer*:

he noticed some sickenly sweet scent lingering over your small frame since you arrived in Devildom

but he couldn't put his finger on it

he never lived among humans how could he know?

he couldn't

and that's the whole point

he asks you about it during having dinner with all of the brothers

when your laughter dies down everything else turns quiet too

he knows immediately that something is wrong

"Did someone else noticed it too?" you ask without looking up

they nod

"Well...I guess...I have to tell you something."

Angsty/Sad Short story (other brothers below):

They all looked at you with big eyes. Filled with questions and worries because of the sad little smile that crept on your face and conquered your lips like a dark sky swallowing the sun. All of them noticed that sickenly sweet scent over your normal aroma. They just didn't thought that it would be such a big deal... "Well...I guess...I have to tell you something."

You cleared your throat and put down your cutlery. It was weird...I kind of felt like the day where you got your deadly diagnosis.

But this time you were the doctor.

And your beloved demons were the patients.

You knew that you couldn't hide it from them forever. Being here was like a daydream and it made you forget your disease a little bit more every day. Living with the demons brought so much new adventures in your life that the illness seemed so far away. It was like you left it at home. In the human world. Somewhere where it couldn't reach you. Throughout the day you never wasted a single thought about your approaching death. And why would you? Death was unavoidable. In the end everbody dies...Just for you it meant, that death would greet you a little bit sooner.

"Two years ago...I fainted. I was not feeling good for a...very, very long time after this. And it did not get better. I thought I hit my head a little bit to hard on the concrete. I...vomited very often and that one night my parents took me to a hospital because of it. They wanted to make sure that I'm okay..." You stopped and looked down at you fingers which were intertwined with the black tablecloth. This night was branded inside your mind like a tattoo you never asked for. Neither did you like it. The brothers did not dare to interrupt you. You could just feel them all staring at you. It was so quiet...so terribly quiet.

"It truned out that...I have a very dangerous disease." you continued. The swallowing felt so much harder now...like something big and bitter was stuck in your throat. "And...sadly...there is no cure..." The bitterness stung in your eyes and you had to fight back the hot upcoming tears. The hopeless and shocked faces of your family were something you could never possibly forget. And right now all of the brothers had this exact same shattered expression on their faces. You bit your bottom lip and your nails digged into the soft skin of you thighs.

"...Is it...deadly?" Lucifer asked and his voice sounded oddly thin. For a little while you did nothing but to stare into space. You did not want them to see you cry. Not when you had to be strong for them again...but then you nodded.

"yes." you breathed. "Yes, it's deadly. They said I have 3 years left-"

The following opressive silence was broken when some of the brothers shifted uncomfortably in their seats. One of them dropped a knife. But nobody saied something. It was like some higher power turned the volume of the universe down. 'Well-' you thought to yourself. 'Maybe this is what shock sounds like...' When you forced yourself to look up, the effects of your confession showed.

All of them were pale. Nobody seemed to breath. Nobody talked. You could see them falling when you looked into their eyes. They were all being swallowed by the big black hole that was your disease and there was no safe shore in sight. You broke them...

All of them.

"I'm so sorry-" you whispered. "I'm sorry for doing this to you." None of them reacted. You couldn't stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks anymore. The salty liquid dribbled over your warm skin like raindrops over glass and ran down to your chin. "I wanted to tell you but--I couldn't-you all made me feel so good that finally I stopped worrying about it-I didn't mean to hurt you--please forgive me-" The sobs came out of your mouth like little hickups.

'They hate me--they hate me for breaking them-I'm a terrible person-'

Lucifer suddenly stood up. His jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists. He shoved his chair back and walked around the dinner table until he stood before you. Sadness and anger radiated of him like a upcoming thunderstorm and it scared you.

Would he hurt you? Would he send you back? Would he banish you from the Devildom?

You thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly embraced you in a very thight hug. His fingertips digged deep into the flesh of you back and he hold you so close as if you were going to disappear right on the spot. It took your breath away. "L-Lucifer?-"

The avatar of pride trembled. And there was something wet in your hair...was he crying?! Finally he spoke. His voice broken like a shattered mirror. "You're--telling us--that you're going to die--and still you're-apologizing for it?!-" His grip thightend. "I thought you would hate me now--" you cried desperately. His hug send shivers down your spine. "MC, you're part of our family-We could never hate you-" His voice broke again. "I'm the one who needs to apologize! I ripped you away from your human family! While you have such little time left-I brought you here without checking your whole background-my research was horrible and icomplete-I am the one who has to apologize! Not you! Not you!!" He grabbed you by your shoulders and now you were able to see it. He was really crying. Lucifer, the avatar of pride, was crying. His crimson red eyes were glassy and shimmered with so much regret.

"No-No don't say this Lucifer, please--I'm so happy here--this is my home too-I'm so glad I got the chance to meet all of you-" Your hand reached his wet cheek and he shivered when you did so. "You all made my time so much better than I could've ever imagined-And I'm so grateful-" You whimpered and burried your face in Lucifer's red tie. Your attention was pulled towards Mammon when you heared his sobbing.

*Mammon*:

"This--this is not fair--" Mammon stood up too and he trembled like an earthquake was running through his body. "Finally I meet someone who is nice to me-someone who listens to me-someone who doesn't treat me like shit or like I'm dump--and now-" His thin voice broke in a shaky cry. "I fucking love you-" He broke down and fell to his knees, his face twisted in deep hurt and despair. His glasses and cheeks were already covered in hot, steamy tears and his hands fisted into the rough carpet. Satans hand touched his back but even he did not know what to do. It was a sad single try to calm Mamon down but it didn't work. "Mammon--" you breathed with a hitching voice while still beeing hugged by Lucifer. "I'm sorry-"

"QUIET APOLOGIZING, WILL YA?!" he screamed and then went back to crying hopelessly. His horns showed. He was interrupted by Leviathan's weak voice.

*Leviathan*:

"I-I don't understand-", he whispered and stood next to the quivering Mammon. He looked like he saw a ghost. He was so pale that it looked like he was starting to disappear. His eyes were red and the tears streamed down like little waterfalls. His small frame trembled uncontrollably and his hands were deep inside his pockets. "We were having so much fun together-we were staying up all night together to play videogames-and now this all is--ending?" A new wave of tears gushed over his face. "This wasn't healthy at all--I hurt you-I didn't knew--I-I'm sorry-" His fingers fisted into his lilac hair and he pulled harshly as if he tried to wake himself from this nightmare. "You're my friend---" Asmodeus tried to stop him. "You will get bold-stop-" But he was also not in a good condition. Neither was Satan.

*Satan*:

He normally really payed close attention to his mimic and gesture. But right now...He couldn't even think straight. It was clearly visible that he was deeply upset and his left hand massages his torso like he had a heart attack. "MC-why didn't you tell us sooner?-" There were tears appearing in the corner of his eyes. "I read so much--maybe we could find a magic cure-I newly read a paragraph about-" But you interrupted him right away. "Satan--I know you want to stop it but--there is no solution in no book-I talked with Simeon about it-I asked if he could miracle it away--but he couldn't. He said that only guardian angles are allowed to do such a thing--and they have to be very powerful to do that-and since there are people on earth living under worse conditions-" Your voice broke and Satan looked away in shame when he couldn't stop the tears anymore. He hated not being in control-He would lose you-.

*Asmodeus*:

"God does not throw dice-" Asmodeus whimpered and everyone looked at him. His beautiful eyes were red and puffy from all the crying and not beautiful at all. It looked like he had a terrible allergy against something unknown. But right now he couldn't care less about his appearance. "That's something I always hated about god--They say there is a reason for everything but they won't tell you an actual reason--and then you're still stuck with your problems all by yourself-" He cried out in despair and hid his face behind his fingers. "-without a solution-" he added with a very thin voice. That was just to much for him and he had to cuddle up to Satan for more support. "How can they leave you to die--you-such a perfect human being like you-you should be the top of their creation-how is this possible-." His pink painted fingernails clawed over his flawless skin and left red stripes. He looked like a locked up animal-trying to break free.

*Beelzebub*:

Beelzebub is a quiet soul by nature. Not a man of big and a lot words. And now he seems even more quiet than before. He can't wrap his head around this new, horrible informations. He grew so fond of you, he needs you, you make him feel better-Fuck it all you brought his brother back! And now you're going to be punished with-Death?! That's not fair at all-that's not okay-he can't lose you-not like he lost Belphie-not like he lost Lillith-he-. With big steps he walked towards you and Lucifer. He towers above both of you like a big mountain that's ready to collapse. Without hestiation he pulls you and his oldest brother into a crushing hug. Tears dribble down from his face into your hair and mix with Lucifer's tears. "We can't lose you MC-your family-family means that nobody gets left behind-."

*Belphegor*:

He is the calmest of his brothers. At least it seems like that. He is just sitting there processing what you just said. You are going to die. In less than a year actually. You're going to die and this means that you're going to leave. His eyes flutter in confusion. He was never upset about humans dying. That's what they do. They live, they die. It's that simple. He knew that. He always knew that. He also knew that you were going to die. One day.

...But why so fast?! Why so damn fast?! His heart beats harder, nearly bursting with anger. His tail and horns appear and his whole demon form starts to mainfest in front of you and his brothers. "No!!", he shouts. "I'm not having this! We need to do something-we-" His eyes land on you and that's just to much. "Who do you think you are?! Huh?! You come down here and wreck our worlds, you live with us, you eat with us-you improve our lifes-and-now--" His tail flinches with agression. Belphie's eyes are drowing in tears as his angers makes place for the deep grief that takes over his whole body. He also, like Mammon, falls to his knees. "You can't leave Mc--I need you-"

(Okay I'm gonna leave now, I cried a little bit while writing and...yeah...maybe I'm just sensitive🥺 I hope it's angsty enough though...)

[internalsealpanic]

The Mechanics of Living part 2

Summary:  You trick Tim into going to a closed-off sector. Things go well. a/n: I will be doing a director’s cut for this is anyone is interested (by anyone I mean @glorified-red) Warnings: very slight body horror and gore 

Main Masterlist

Tim Drake Masterlist

It was easiest to just tell Tim all the facts rather than rely on the goodwill you've built in 3 years to persuade him.

There's a reason sector 4-D was cordoned off last year. For some unknown reason, a section that had been little more than a concrete wasteland started teeming with infected life.

People say it was an abomination (An unidentifiable, Tim corrected but you still think abomination captured the appropriate dramatic for that.)  that wandered in from farther in the waste. Some people say it was one of Bludhaven's beasts they let loose. You highly doubt Bludhaven was in any shape to contain whatever it is ravaging sector 4-D. After all, it wasn't in any better shape than Gotham was at the moment. You doubt it's ever been in better shape. They're like two cities constantly caught in this vortex of awfulness, looking at each other from two different sides thinking 'poor bastards'.

Sector 4-D was an easy hunting ground where young scavengers got their feet wet before they could move on. Now it was a dead zone, a dead zone with too much potential to pass up.

Like every sector, sector 4 was vast and unexplored and supposedly, there had been a library there. A building full of books and most importantly, medical textbooks.

You feel a little bad plucking at Tim's heartstrings when all you cared about was the payout. Appealing to the guy's sense of responsibility was kind of cheating but-- BUT! The specified textbooks do have stuff about bacteria and illnesses so you aren't really overstating their importance.

You try to push down the number of zeroes the man had shown you as you zip past a rusted sign.

You don't really trust anyone other than Tim to help you with this. Besides, all the other people who won't stab you after cashing in the reward probably don't know half as many words as Tim so you'll definitely need him to get the right books.

You stare at the rows of cars before you. They're overrun with weeds and vines and rust. A stark reminder that your Gotham is just a fraction of what it had been. You stop your bike in front of a taxi with a faded yellow body.

"This is it. This is where your life as an adventurer begins."

You swallow back the wave of nostalgia, letting the bike roll past it into the mess of cars to keep it a little more hidden. It isn't illegal to go to this sector yet. At least not when you checked but you really don't wanna gamble your Scavenger's license on clerical errors by either of your guilds.

Tim steps out of the sidecar, careful not to jostle Basil in his bag. You want to point out that you should probably wake the cat up otherwise you were wasting food on him but you knew better than to expect cooperation from Tim's fur ball from hell.

“So which theory about the illness do you think is the most plausible?” He asks, tucking the walkman away. You both thought it was stupid name but you didn’t really wanna question the teller. “The one that involves the least aliens.” You pause, narrowing your eyes at Tim whose hand is currently being eaten by his cat. “Or alien adjacent things.”

“So, you're one of those people who thinks the government did it.” Tim is *such* a little shit. Maybe that’s why his guild master gave him the most useless cat on the planet. Grade A my ass, you think staring at the furball nipping at his knuckles.

“Not on purpose, no.”

Tim raises a brow. “I didn't know you had that much faith in humanity.”

“Pffff, I think they just fucked up.”  

“Here, I was accusing you of being optimistic.”

“A mistake really.”

You two come to a crossroads.  A giant large yellow lantern hangs in the middle of the street, swaying listlessly in the air. It’s strange.

“Do you think the people in the old world used those to scare away the sick?”

“If they did,” he looks around, “it didn't work.”

Your eyes flit over the area.  Stone walls crumble, vegetation willing in the cracks. Still, even with the overgrowth of life, the city feels hollowed out. Nearly a decade ago, you’d first laid a hand on one of the stone arches of the city hall just down by main street. Nearly a decade ago, you felt the stone crumble beneath the pads of your fingers. Nearly a decade ago, you had come the closest to knowing what it was like having the sickness. Even one of the great cities had been reduced to a fraction of its size.

“Do you think the color of the light matters?” Tim asks, pointing again to the lamp.

You squint. You hadn’t noticed it at first but yeah, the color of the lights was different.

“Maybe,” you tilt your head, “or maybe the people from before were just idiots.”

“You just have a bad opinion of them, don’t you?”

“Like you don’t.” You shoot back, tapping your bat against your boot.

Tim rolls his eyes and shrugs.

You try to smile at that but something’s wrong. Your skin bristling, the air is stale despite the wind. You watch the lantern sway back and forth, the thin wires holding it up, fragile and precarious. A bad feeling crawls up your spine.

There’s a pressure in the air, the atmosphere turning into a vacuum.

Basil hisses, looking as vicious as he can.

The wind stops.

The skittering voices rise like the fluttering of locust wings.

A writhing mass, pulsing and menacing, blots out the horizon. It opens its maw to wheeze and the stench of rot floods the air. Your insides curdle and wilt from the intensity of the putrid odor. Once the *thing* draws another breath, the skittering begins again and this time you know where it’s from.

You can see it in the way its neck twists and undulates, its rotting flesh rippling as the fragmented voices rasp out of its throat. Its limbs, deformed, move unnaturally as it ambles towards you.

You stare at it. Your limbs unmoving. That thing *is* an unidentifiable. In all technicality, it fits the neat taxonomy laid out by experts. It is neither man nor beast. Its form corrupted beyond recognition. It’s rotting and shambling. But the thing you are looking at cannot simply be sorted neatly because it is what it is.  

A creature that god himself did not touch.

An abomination.

You splay a hand on Tim’s chest, pushing him back lightly.  Glancing at each other, you nod as you slowly step back into an alley. You quietly curse Gotham’s gloomy weather for the thing’s appearance. You thought you would have at least ‘til sundown to look for loot before having to flee to a safer sector. But when in Gotham, nothing is ever certain even the rising of the sun.

All you have to do is be quiet. Easy enough. Being silent is the first thing you learn to be in this world.

It blinks at you.

It. Blinks. At. *You.*

Your heart stops, the blood running in your veins turning into lead.

Dozens of eyes blink at you. They’re not all human from the looks of them. It opens its maw again, your muscles bunch up in anticipation of its miasmal breath. The discordant voices coming from its mouth coalesce into a horrible sob.

Tim grabs your wrist and pivots towards an alley. The sudden change in movement shocks your body awake. You scoop Basil up and bolt down the alley, letting Tim lead the way.

Desperately, You try to concentrate on the scuff of your shoes against pavement instead of the creak of limbs and the plop of flesh as it drips off the creature. The pinching of Tim’s features tells you he’s doing the same.

You round the corner, shoulder hitting brick, narrowly avoiding dozens of hands reaching for you. Basil yowls and hisses and you would apologize but your shoulder is screaming at you and goddammit Basil, we have bigger issues.  

You and Tim squeeze into a space between the buildings seemingly too small for that thing’s gelatinous form. You make the mistake of looking back only to see its limbs skitter up the building and down the other end of the alley. It smiles at you, rows of teeth glittering in the sparse light.

This was it.

This is where your life ends.

Where else is there to go?

You expect the acceptance to come in like a flood or relief. Life was hard with very little room for breath. Scraping by, tooth and nail, knuckles bleeding for every scrap of stability. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You suddenly feel so tired like the adrenaline had been keeping you together for the past few years. Acceptance should have come easy.

But it doesn’t.

You open your eyes to glance at Tim, finally resignation sets. His features are still pinched and his hand is trembling beside yours. You really did screw this one up big time, huh?

You bite your cheek.

Watching Tim’s mind work, you know you have to keep him alive. You squeeze Tim's hand. He narrows his eyes at you. You give him a crooked smile and let his hand fall.

You pivot, foot pushing against the pavement as you launch yourself to the other end of the alley.

If your estimates are correct, you can buy him 15 minutes. 15 minutes would be more than enough for him to make it back to the bike--

Tim yanks on your hood, throwing open a door. The creature howls as Tim hurls both of you into the building.

"What the heck was that?!" Tim screams.

"A Dick." You answer, rubbing your head. fuck. Tim could throw.

"No! You were being fucking stupid."

You scowl at him in the dark. "Thanks Tim. I get it."

"No, you don't!"

"Can we argue--"

The door rattles and shakes. A fist-shaped dent embeds itself on the metal door. You glance at each other before scrambling towards the very safe-looking stairs.

You fly up the steps like hell was on your heels and as far as you're concerned, it was. You wrench Tim's bag from him and you're half tempted to throw him over your shoulder as well but you're not sure the stare case can hold that much weight.

If you climb to the roof--  If you... climb... It can climb. Fuck.

You and Tim seem to come to the same conclusion as you throw yourselves into another door.

You shove a sofa in front of the door and sit on it.

"Please tell me you've miraculously come up with a plan." You hiss glancing over to Tim who's staring at the window.

He glances over his shoulder to look at you. "If I could pull off miracles, you wouldn't be so dumb."

You sigh. Ok, yeah. He has every right to be mad. It was an incredibly stupid move but it's a numbers game and yeah.

Tim runs his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. He needs to come up with something. He glances out the window. He walks over and leans out the window.

"We should jump."

"Would you like to elaborate?" You wheeze, still not really letting go of a

"Follow me."

"Tim, I have never trusted you less in my life." You snort, quietly. But you make your way to the window.  You set Basil down and look at what Tim is pointing to. There's a dumpster filled to the brim with trash. There doesn't seem to be any infected mice in there and the road to the right is a straight shot back to the bike.

You lick your lips.

"So we're on the same page."

"Uh, if that means what I think it means then yes."

Tim lets out a breath as he opens the window as quietly as possible. You listen to the steady beat of limbs thumping against the wood. You hold a collective breath. The window clicks into place with a loud snikt.

The thumping stops.

You practically shove Tim out the window while you stare at the door. It rattles and shakes.  A screech erupts the stairwell as you jump out the window. You land with a thump, sinking beneath the mounds of plastic.

Your heart is hammering and pressing into your throat. Its beat is in sync with the steady thump of the limbs. The wet squelching of rotting flesh scraping against the rusted metal of the dumpster. You want to heave but Tim shoves a hand in your face. You gag silently. Tim's hand smells putrid from the trash.

You hold your breaths until the thumping goes away. You don't dare breathe until Basil settles down.

You fall limp against the trash. Your limbs feel like jelly. You gag. Thinking about jelly right now is probably the worst thing for your health.

Tim nudges you with his foot. You turn your body over as quietly as you can.

You watch him make shapes with his hands. You frown.   You cycle through your memory trying to remember what the gestures mean then let go of Basil when you do.

Basil rises from the trash, padding against the plastic.

When you hear Basil jump down to the pavement, you dig your way out of the trash.

"For the record, I hate your plans." You say, gagging.

"What was yours?" Tim fires back, dusting his hair.

"..."

"Just what I thought."

You're the first to climb out, holding your arms out to him mockingly. He silently threatens to curb stomp your face. You snort and tuck your hands to your side.

Thankfully, you make it to the bike without incident.

Tim tucks his body into the sidecar, occupying himself by comforting Basil. You hand him a bat as you start the bike.

"Just in case."

You kick the bike into gear as you two ride into the sunset.

You breathe a quiet breath, letting your eyes slip shut for a moment. The road is clear for about 14 breaths.  That’s all you want to think about.

At the fourteenth breath, you open your eyes to an open expanse of road, endless and breathtaking. You turn to Tim and laugh. He gives you a sour look. You’ll just buy both of you some canned pineapples later and he’ll maybe forgive you. Basil certainly does as he doesn’t participate in Tim’s sour protest, opting instead to crawl into Tim’s bag.

Then you hear it above the roar of the engine.

The skittering.

Voices like the fluttering of wings.

It screeches, the raspy cry making your skin crawl. You don’t wanna look back. You don’t want to see the unnatural movement of its body as it bounds towards you.

You kick the bike to a higher gear. The engine will hate you but you can’t repair it if you’re dead.

The bike slows down. Tim stands up raising your bat over his head, bringing it down. It does not clang. The sound is squishier and moist. Your stomach rebels. Hazarding a glance behind you, you see the writhing mass holding onto your bike.

“TIM,” you shout.

“I--” Swing “-- AM--” Swing “--A LITTLE--” Swing “--BUSY!” “THERE’S A CAN OF HAIRSPRAY IN MY DUFFLE.”  

Tim ducks down, throwing you the bat. You swing wildly at the creature, summoning up a truly impressive bout of swearing.

Tim sprang up, nearly falling off the sidecar if not for you grabbing his shirt. Tim flicked the lighter, pressing down on the nozzle of the spray, and unleashing fire on the beast. The thing cries, voice shattering as it burns. You watch its flesh burn. Oh, what a pleasure it was to see it burn.

"We are never doing this again!" Tim wheezes.

"Of definitely fucking not." You bark, kicking the bike to a higher gear. The purring of the engine sounds like music to your ears.

"We are definitely doing easy sectors by a bit." You laugh.

When you don’t hear a snarky remark, you glance to your sidecar. Tim is slumped into his seat, breathing hard. You raise your brow but turn your attention to the road.  You shake him. You shake him again and again.

Tim doesn't respond.

You pull your hand away and it’s slick with blood.

______________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading!!!!

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[bvlgae]

"I hate you!"

He's acting his age and he knows it. At least he has that much of an excuse. His eyes sting. Tears are welling up, threatening to spill over, to draw glistening streaks over his cheeks. Sephiroth balls up his fists instead, wills the tears not to fall because that's the last gods damned thing he needs. And what he needs right now is to hang onto his anger.

Somehow, he thought he'd be used to it by now. Nothing but a muzzled pet, a prized science fair project, or a show horse paraded around for a crooning audience. Not a person. Not someone to anybody.

All those life lessons, the wrinkles at the corner of Ravus's eyes when he narrated over a new story and Sephiroth laughed along with it, cuddling by firelight on cold nights, discarded candy wrappers, and counting shooting stars. That wasn't for him.

Why can't he just be? Why can't people just let him exist for who he is? To see him and not something or someone else?

The signs were there. He had chosen to ignore them for so long. Whenever Ravus looked at him out of the corner of his eye or when the other man ruffled his hair...He wasn't seeing Sephiroth, but Lunafreya.

Pinpointing the exact moment he figured out what was happening seems impossible. Hearing Ravus stumble over Lunafreya's name, openly confusing memory for reality...that hurt too much to describe.

Sephiroth tries to leave, to turn away and fight his way through the shrubbery clawing at his legs because he knows he can't stop the tears now. They run hot, like little flames burning all the way down until they drip off the end of his chin.

"You miss her so bad-- you should go find her then! What the hell are you doing with me?! Just leave me alone. I don't need you. I don't need anybody."

It was a mistake, he knows. But his attempt at explaining his error is cut short, by three words that manage to wound him deeper than any sword or stray bullet.

The boy doesn't mean it. He couldn't.

...did he?

"Wait, you're only going to hurt yourself-" he tries to keep his tone steady, not raising volume or casting an edge to it, nothing that can be further misconstrued.

As much as it hurts, Sephiroth's emotions were more important to him. He wanted- No, needed to set this right.

"I misspoke. You've seen me get confused before- Disassociate from the present. That's all it was."

Perhaps a weak excuse, but there was truth to it.

Of course he missed her. How couldn't he? How could he ever disrespect or think ill of Lunafreya after what he did.

"She's... dead, Seph. And I've known, for a long time, that she's never coming back. No one could ever replace the void left in my heart that she once occupied. The same way that no one could ever replace you."

How could he describe it in words that didn't sound paltry in comparison to what he felt? If he couldn't retain his pride, he could at least retain what little humanity he had left. Maybe it was too late for even that.

"All I had to ground me for years was revenge. They tell you sometimes it's better to just forget- How could I forget? How could I forgive? To me, forgiveness was something that could only be given by those who still had something to begin with. You know that when it gets tough like that, it's going to turn ugly. I thought that I didn't care how low I sunk, how far gone I'd be, but it's different now. Everything's different. I hated it at first, but fuck it- I've been working for a long time and I haven't done much with the earnings. You want to leave? You want to disappear, we can do that. You wanted to go to Costa del Sol? Hell, we'll do that too- Buy a bed with feathers stuffed into it and everything, no keeping our backs to the wall, no sleeping with one eye open anymore. Just those fruity drinks with stupid, tiny umbrellas and miles of nothing but ocean."

They'd done enough killing, it was time to start living.

[whumpmatsus]

Do they have to be whump related? Also Ichimatsu getting a shot pls

wasn't sure if you wanted a draw or a fic, so I did both!

and yeah, any draw or fic requests you send here should probably be whump-related since this is a whump-focused blog

though if you wanna send any draw or fic/scenario/reaction/etc. requests that AREN'T whump, you can send them to my general Osomatsu-san blog at @kisskissmatsu!

enjoooooy <3

-

-

Usually Ichimatsu is the sextuplet who’s fine being left all by himself.

Being in the hospital without his family, though, is a much different story.

It started innocently enough ― with a persistent cough that was almost certainly the herald of a cold or sore throat on the horizon. As much as he hates being sick, he sort of resigned himself to it. He’s the one among his brothers who’s forever catching what happens to be going around, despite the fact that he doesn’t spend a lot of time around other people. That’s why he started wearing a face mask when he does leave the house.

It was about a week or so of sneezing, coughing, and sniffling his way through various attempts to rest. His throat felt worse than it usually did with a cold, and even more alarming was that his chest felt like it was on fire, especially when he started coughing. Even though he started having trouble breathing, he thought maybe this was just something that would linger for a bit, something that needed more sleep to recover from.

When things didn’t taper off after that, since a week was typically all it took for him to start feeling better, the others started commenting on it.

When Ichimatsu started to spend more time in the bathroom with a sink full of hot water in the hopes that the steam would help him breathe easier, and it didn’t seem to be having any effect, they all got worried.

When Karamatsu blurted out, “I secretly took Ichimatsu’s temperature with a forehead thermometer while he was sleeping and it read 39.4!”, Mom and Dad immediately carted their fourth son off to the hospital.

It figures Shittymatsu would get him into this mess, but Ichimatsu supposes that the sneaky gesture was only out of care, otherwise Karamatsu wouldn’t have spoken up about a number that concerned him.

That doesn’t mean he has to like it. After a distressing, panic-inducing few hours of waiting and a date with the X-ray machine, the doctor diagnosed him with bacterial pneumonia. That particular diagnosis ensured that he had to be admitted into the hospital under quarantine, because as the doctor explained, bacterial pneumonia is extremely contagious and potentially life-threatening, particularly to someone with a fragile immune system like Ichimatsu. They can’t send him home to infect his brothers or the rest of the community, and even though he isn’t technically immuno-compromised, his tendency to get sick easily means that it’s better for him to be here in the hospital in case things suddenly take a bad turn.

Being in here is like he’s trapped in hell and can’t get out. Because he’s in quarantine, he never sees anybody. Which would be fine normally. Feeling so poorly is a significant reason for wanting his family nearby, though… and he can’t have them.

The most they can do is visit outside his room and talk to him through the speaker system. That’s even worse, seeing them all and not being able to have any real contact with him. Right now more than anything, what he wants is a hug from his mom. God, he wants a hug from his brothers.

It’s hard to even get any rest like he’s supposed to be doing. Most of his time is spent sitting up, trying to get a sufficient breath in while he listens to various TV channels. The idol news reminds him of Choromatsu, sports statistics remind him of Jyushimatsu, game shows remind him of Osomatsu, American dramas remind him of Karamatsu, and fashion shows remind him of Totty.

Those are just distractions, because it’s still hard to breathe. He’s struggling for most of his breaths, but too deep a breath will trigger a coughing fit. Which, in turn, makes it more difficult to breathe.

It’s barely been a day since he was admitted and already he wants out of here.

His brothers visit sometime after lunch, and they spend a few hours. Eventually the nurse gently chases them out, telling them that Ichimatsu needs to try to get some rest. Shortly after that she comes into the room, rolling her little cart with the tray on it.

“How do you feel today, Ichimatsu?” she hums, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Any better than when we admitted you?”

He shakes his head and tries to answer when another series of coughs interrupts him. Although it’s hard to cover his mouth when his whole body is aching, he does his best. After all, he doesn’t want to get anyone else sick. He’s already in quarantine, so all the doctors and nurses are taking their own precautions; still, he shouldn’t just give up and spread his germs carelessly. “N-not really.”

She nods and picks up a wrapped packet from the tray. “Well, to be honest, that’s understandable. It hasn’t been very long.” The packet is ripped open, and the distinct smell of alcohol fills the air as she carefully pushes his sleeve up. “The lack of improvement does concern us, though. So I just have to give you an injection of some medicine, okay?”

Shit. He thought that might be what was going on here. He knows he’s too exhausted to fight it, and yet, his brain evidently isn’t too exhausted to not be fucking anxious about it. “I… I have to get a shot?”

The cold wipe is rubbed against the top part of his arm. “Yeahhh… I’m sorry. This is penicillin, and it’s one of our standard treatments for pneumonia. The doctor thinks you’ll have better luck sitting still for one shot than for a whole pill-and-water deal, since you’re coughing a lot. I kind of have to agree, since you might accidentally inhale some water if you cough while trying to take the pills.”

Immediately he starts to panic. Most of the time the idea of a shot doesn’t bother him more than it might the average person ― he gets the yearly flu vaccine without any problems. Right now, however… the idea of a shot while he’s already feeling so terrible, the initial pinch and the ache that might happen afterwards and being alone, it just feels scary.

The nurse must hear the way his breathing starts to quicken, or maybe the way his hands start shaking. She gives his shoulder a little pat. “Ah, I know on your chart it says you suffer from some anxiety. Are you a bit anxious right now?”

“Y… yeah…”

“Okay. That’s totally fine, you know? Different people get anxious about different things. Would it help if I distracted you, or if I gave you a countdown so you know when it’s coming? Sometimes that helps so it’s not a surprise… or, sometimes people prefer it to be a surprise. Which one do you think would be best for you?”

… Oh. He wasn’t expecting something like that. It almost feels like he has a little control over this, despite the fact that he has to get the injection either way. “C… can you… count down?”

“Sure, of course. No problem.” Then she reaches over with one hand, grabbing the syringe with the other. “Would you like to hold my hand?”

That’s kind of… babyish, isn’t it? “I-I’m not a kid… I don’t wanna…”

She chuckles. “Well, you know, earlier today I held the hand of an elderly lady who was getting a shot. It’s not just a kid thing. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine too.”

He takes a moment to consider that, then silently slips his hand into hers.

“Alright, just squeeze if you feel like you need to. I’m all set, are you?”

“I… I think so…”

“Okay, I’m gonna give you the countdown then. Here we go. Three ― two ― one.”

As soon as she says the last number, he feels the needle pierce his skin. It’s uncomfortable, a sharp kind of pinprick pain. There’s a slight feeling of tightness and soreness as the medicine is emptied into his muscle, and a brief jolt when the nurse pulls the needle out.

All in all, even though it isn’t a pleasant experience, it’s not as bad as it could have been. It’s certainly better than choking on a pill and a glass of water if he had to try to swallow the medication.

And, at least, it’s over now.

“There. You did great, Ichimatsu. Probably my best patient of the day!” With that, she sets the syringe back down on the tray and gingerly smooths a bandage with a cotton ball over the injection site. “That should keep you clean just in case any blood trickles out from the shot, and someone will come take it off later if the adhesive starts to make your skin itch.”

He nods and coughs into his arm again, giving a soft groan. He’s just so tired, from the fever, from the coughing, from not being home. “Is it gonna m… khh… make me tired?”

“Haha, it shouldn’t, no. You might feel a little nauseous, or you might have to go to the bathroom more, or you might get a small itchy rash… just press the call button if any of that happens or if you feel strange otherwise, okay?” Her cart is all packed up already, and she’s heading out of the room. “If you get tired, it’s probably because you’re sick and need rest. So, try to sleep as much as you can.”

“’Kay.” He just feels like this illness has drained everything out of him, and there’s a little throbbing where he got the injection. But, the more he sleeps, hopefully the sooner he can recover and go home.

On her way out, the nurse dims the lights. Practically as soon as she does, Ichimatsu’s eyes start to drift closed. God, he’s so tired.

He lies down, though the bed is still a little elevated since sleeping flat will just make him cough more. Sleep tugs at him, and he has to move a little bit so he’s not putting any pressure on the area where he got the shot.

Soon. Soon he can go home.

Just as soon as he gets better.

[confusedlamp]

Mental Health Strategies

I have dealt with various mental health BS (anxiety, depression, ADHD), and while I haven't gotten it all figured out, I have been dealing with it for well over a decade now. I figured I would make a list of coping mechanisms that have helped me and are worth trying out if you haven't already. None of these things are “magic” (just try this and your brain will be all fixed!),  and obviously not applicable in all situations. I mostly learned these via therapy or from other people struggling with mental illness. This also may or may not be to help me have a list of things written down for when I forget. 

Putting this below a keep reading thing because this got long FAST: 

For depression funks:

-Find a small task you can complete. Wash a dish, throw clothes in the hamper, take out the trash, etc. Something small.

-Take a shower. And try changing clothes. Even if it's in to some pajamas. If you aren't up to showering, try washing your face and maybe wiping down with a wipe. But a change of clothes will still feel better.

-Eat something. Doesn't have to be "healthy." Some food, no matter what it is, is better than no food.

-Can you get outside? Doesn't have to be to excercise. Just sitting on the front steps for a few minutes in the sun.

-Doing something to take care of yourself. Can you brush your teeth? Have a glass of water? Brush your hair? Just pick one thing and so it.

-Plan something. See if you can get a friend to meet you to hang out (or zoom) or maybe for dinner. For yourself, maybe find a movie to go see (post pandemic). Preferably find something that has a set time.

For panics:

- Square breathing. Breathe in for 5, hold for 5, breath out for 5, hold for 5. Repeat.

-There are a ton of meditations on youtube. Search "5 minute meditation" and you'll find a ton of videos.

-After the initial panic is over try calling a friend. If you can't for some reason (sometimes it's 3 am or your friend isn't available), try finding some cat videos on youtube. I highly recommend Cole and Marmalade. Something light that will get your brain on something else.

For Executive Dysfunction:

-Remove steps to putting things away. For awhile in school, I would have a mess of papers that weren't organized or put away because I was trying to use a binder. As silly as it sounds, having to neatly align paper holes or got find a place to punch those holes, would prevent me from putting things away. So I switched to folders. Suddenly I stopped losing things and my papers were organized.

-Bullet journaling. Or rather, I just have a little notebook where I put all my to do lists, grocery lists, project planning, brainstorming, etc. I don't properly Bullet Journal (TM) but I keep all my lists in one spot and it helps.

-To do lists in general. Writing out steps to get something done. Cross things out when you finish them. You get a better sense of accomplishment.

-When executive dysfunction is preventing you from getting out of bed, break it down. Step one, sit up. Step 2, swing legs over side. Step 3 stand up.

-Same with any task. If it seems too overwhelming or you just can't bring yourself to do it, it might be because you are looking at all the steps and feeling it's too much. So just think about the first one.

-Alarms and reminders. I put everything on a calendar in my phone. Google Calendar allows you to set a reminder for events days, weeks, hours, and minutes ahead. You can also set alarms for things like "I know I need to leave at 3 for the appointment, so I am going to set an alarm for 2:45 to start getting ready." Do not rely on yourself to look at the clock. YOU WILL NOT LOOK AT THE CLOCK IN TIME.

-Set the dang alarm clock across the room. That way, you gotta get out of bed to turn it off. Once out of bed, go take any meds, or if you don’t have meds, go do a small morning task. Usually doing this small task is enough to get me awake enough to not get back into bed. If I do, well, at least I have taken my meds. 

Sensory Issues:

- Fitted sweat pants and hiking pants. I can’t stand tight clothing, but I want to look presentable. Sweatpants that taper can still look decent. Travel pants or hiking pants (you can find these at places like REI), basically look like slacks but are made out of stretchy material. They also usually are made out of quick dry material which is nice. 

-Fidget and sensory toys. I really like hedgehog rings which have these little spikes on them I can run my thumb over. Also the tangle. I have a tangle that has a rubber coating that has little bumps on it. What you end up liking might differ, but those are two of my favorite. Also, if anyone gives you shit about these, you can explain “it’s sorta like a stress ball, but instead you [whatever you do with this fidget toy].” 

-Ear plugs. I wear these a lot because I have particular issues with sounds, especially certain ones. I prefer either silicone gummy ones or I like these that are “slim” because they don’t make my ears hurt. You can also get musician ear plugs that are made for musicians to protect their hearing, but still be able to hear tones and what is going on, for when sound is simply too load (also good for concerts). 

For General ADHD things: 

-Work somewhere different. This is a bit limited due to the pandemic currently, but just working at the kitchen table instead of your bedroom can help. In college, I used to go to the library to work. Just the idea that I was going to someplace specific to do a specific task, helped me actually get started. 

-Promise yourself that you will work for 10 minutes. Set an alarm if needed. Usually just starting will make the task seem less intimidating. If 10 minutes is too much, do 5. 

-Cardio. Get your self moving. This is good for a lot of things, but I highly recommend it for before you have to sit down to work on a task, like school work. I personally run, but if that’s not your thing dance, a class, walking, biking, etc. Just whatever you like. 

-Time dependent things are good to get yourself going. Again, this is limited by the pandemic, but for normal times, can you meet a friend for breakfast? Can you schedule your appointment so you have to get to it before you start work? When I was in college, I used to go to morning gym classes before my first class of the day. This got me up and if I was 5 minutes late, it was better to do that for a gym class than a physics class. Bonus because it was exercise and I could focus better on the class. 

-In classes, try to find a notes buddy or study group. That way, if you zoned out a moment, you can ask them for the notes from that section and vice versa. Also, meeting up with them is a great way to have a set time to study. 

For General Anxiety/ Depression: 

-This is going to sound cheesy as fuck, but: Make a list for what you are good at. Things you like about yourself. Things you have accomplished. They don’t have to be super deep, but can be. Do you like your nose? Can you paint your nails well? Are you good at understanding your cat? Are you good at writing? Drawing? Did you overcome a bad test and still manage to pass a class?  If you have a friend or significant other that you are comfortable with, ask them to help maybe. Keep this list for when you feel like shit. 

-Yoga. I’m sorry to put this on here because it seems like the most neurotypical advice, but. I honestly love this shit. If you haven’t given it a shot, there’s a reason why people like it. You don’t have to belong to a gym to try it. I highly recommend Yoga with Adrienne. She has some great beginner videos. 

-Take breaks from social media and news as needed. Seriously. You are a single person and can’t fix everything. Do what you can (share the information, make a donation, join in mutual aid efforts, etc.) but doom scrolling and obsessing won’t help anyone. If you won’t do it for yourself, consider that burning yourself out will make you unable to help later on. 

-Create things. They don’t have to be amazing. Crocheting, knitting, drawing, writing, etc. Having something that you can look at and be like “I made that” is really satisfying. Youtube has some great tutorials for pretty much anything. For drawing, I really like Proko. He has some great videos on drawing faces. But again: IT DOESN’T NEED TO BE GOOD. 

General Resources/ Advice:

-If you are currently in college, most campuses will have groups for counseling and even limited one on one sessions. Usually, these counseling groups are free and the one on one sessions can help you find a counselor nearby. 

-How to ADHD. Seriously I love this youtube channel. She goes over how ADHD affects the brain and has seriously helped me understand it better. 

-The Trevor Project. For LGBTQ teens and youth. They have a hotline and many other resources.  

-If what is stopping you from getting therapy is the idea that you are being dramatic/ are not that bad/ others have it worse: Go get therapy. What are we going to do, find the one person who has it the worst off than anyone and only they are allowed to feel bad and get help? Screw that. Get some help. 

-Remember that there are good things in your future. Where ever you are in life, you have something positive in your future, even if you don’t know it yet. One day, there will be a moment when you look back on the dark times and be so glad you didn’t give up. 

-Obligatory: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/  (1-800-273-8255). This is national suicide prevention lifeline, for the US. They can help. 

-https://www.crisistextline.org/ For when you don’t like phone calls, try texting instead. Has US, Canada, UK, and Ireland numbers. 

[bipolarsun]

Some of you won't be able to relate, and that's okay, all I ask is that you promise yourself and ME that you will get here;

I have been off of medication for about 6 months...maybe more..not sure. Regardless, consistency and self preservation have been keeping me from losing my marbles.

The thought of not being on medication used to terrify me. To the point where I would ball thinking about how miserable and wreck less I would be... as we all know there is not a universal fix all, but actually there is. Figure out what works for YOU. Stop spending hours reading about what everyone else does, DO THEM. How have the vast majority of us not taken the advice thats been drilled into our heads seriously yet ? The exercise, getting enough sleep, eating better, and drinking less etc etc has been repeated over and over and over again. Has no one really stopped and wondered why we keep hearing that shit? One of those things, or maybe all of them work for you, maybe two of them do and you find relief in drawing or listening to murder podcasts. GREAT!

Force yourself to do those things. It may take you two hours the first few times, but what you will find is that it gets easier.

Another thing I've noticed, everyone that posts motivational quotes on their social media, the ones I thought had their shit together, are liars. I have years of wear and tear on them, yet somehow, I have surpassed them IN ONE YEAR. Here and now, they are still doing what I was; thinking, reading, writing, planning on how to become and be happy.

The night everything turned around for me, was the night that I was going to make another plan for myself. I was going to put on paper what I wanted to do everyday (brush my teeth, shower, eat at least two meals a day) I was going to write down how I wanted to present myself and all these things, they were in my head and I JUST needed to get them out and follow the plan.

It was 1 am

I stopped myself

I said to myself, actually no. Fuck this.

I closed my journal, put my pen away.

I told myself to cut the bullshit and just do it. I thought " how am I going to write down that I want to go to bed at a timely hour, yet I was going to sit here up for another god knows how many hours writing and coming up with this plan, when I could do just that."

I went to bed that night, I got up the next day and I remembered everything I wanted to write down, and I started doing those things as often as I could, until it became light work. Yes I still get irritable, yes I still get and feel impulsive, I still have moments of ideation,- but because of being consistent and learning how to love and take care of myself properly; all the symptoms that used to keep me tied to the bed, or tied to the bar- have become miniscule and easier to manage than I ever thought possible.

Maybe that hobby that used to make you happy doesn't anymore, and maybe it never will again, but so what? Find something else. You've already tried multiple medications, or have been through multiple therapists, whats the difference ? You owe it to yourself to not let your mental illness be who you are.

Being depressed, anxious, suicidal, angry, irritable are not choices, but choosing NOT to do anything about it.... that IS a choice.

[atiny-exol]

Vampire Ateez a Skz member is forcefully drinking from you

Warning: drug abuse, swearing, fighting, blood, drinking without your consent, nearly rape, kidnapping

A/N- Soooo I hope you enjoy it!!!

Requested: Yes

_________________________________________

Hongjoong

Hongjoong tried to get a long with the fact that skz is getting bigger and bigger

That they are getting more and more powerful

That he maybe has to make allies with them

But all his calmness is gone as soon as he sees the leader of skz all over you

His eyes shining in a dark red color and his fangs slightly digging on your skin

He is mad, no even more than that

Doesn't hold back anymore till the other leader finally learns his place

His place under him

After that he takes you home and tries to calm you down

Whispers in your ear

Pets your head

Makes you tea

All of that

A lot of snuggling

Will never ever let something like that happen again

,,And if you do this again." His look is cold, colder than ice and sharper than a knive as he looked at the skz leader with so much hatred. ,,I will not hesitate to kill you little boy. Never dare to lay a finger on something that stands under my protection."

Seonghwa

He doesn't even know how this happened

He went to a party with you

Lost you for 5 seconds

And the next time he finds you, you are laying unconscious under Minho

Skz often goes along very well, Seonghwa doesn't mind them but as soon as he sees the member of the rivals hovering over your body. Ready to suck your blood

He sees red

If Minho is alive after that a wonder happened

Because he should not be

Someone touch something that is very special to him

In fact the most special thing

And no one is going to hurt it

He leaves Minho laying on the floor and then places his jacket over you

Picking you up and carrying you home were he can nurse you back to a good state

Apologies a lot of times because he couldn't protect you

A single tear ran down his cheek and right after that a shaky sob was heard from your mate. It breaks your heart to see him like that, but there is nothing you could do to make him feel better. It doesn't matter what you are saying, he feels shitty for not protecting you like he promised you. His mate got bitten by someone else and it hurts him just as much as it hurts you.

Yunho

He is the softest person and trusts his family with his whole heart.

But one new member was very suspicious to him the whole time

Not that he would go against Hongjoong orders no

But the guy always was a little shitty in his eyes

He had the feeling to know him and to know that he has ill intentions

And he was right

One day you visited him and he had to do some things before you could leave

The guy, Hyunjin, started to flirt with you, telling you that he is the only chance for you to get out of this situation alive because skz is going to take ateez down

Of course Yunho heard that

He is angry. So is the rest of Ateez because they saw how Hyunjin tried to convince you to go with him

And after you said no he tried to drink from you even if you yelled at him to stop

No one of the holds back, but Yunho doesn't care about him

He just cares about you

Tries to calm you down

Draws small circles on your lower back while whispering calming words in your ear

,,Psssht princess/prince don't cry don't cry." his voice was barely a whisper. It hurts him to hear your heartbreaking sobs and the words you say. You are blaming yourself for that and it breaks him. Nothinh is your fault. None of this is your fault. He has to make you see that.

San

Leaves you alone for 5 minutes and guys are already flirting with you

But then he sees how you are rejecting the jerk

Beforw the guy leaves he tells you that you will regret that

And he was right

Just in this night some rivals attacked you both surprisingly

San saw how the jerk feed from you and the smudge smirk on his face as he let your body fall down on the floor

He tried his best to protect you, his mate, he was so angry that he thought he can do it, but there were to much

The next time he wakes up you are gone

And he is laying in a dark basement

Before he realizes who his enemies are

He saw them before.

And now where he know that it is skz

He even more concerned about you

,,Fuck give me my mate back you bastard!" San was filled with rage as the rival stepped in the room. His brown hair hanging in his face and a big smirk shooting at him. ,,Aww you want your sweet little mate back? To bad this is not going to happen. We will use you to get the others to and then your territory is ours."

Mingi

He doesn't hate skz, he never thought they are nice or something like that but he never hated them

What mingi doesn't know is that Jeongin the youngest of straykids would cause a lot of trouble

Jeongin is sweet, kind, charming and he knows it

What he also knows is that he wants you

And he usually gets what he wants

That's why it confuses him if you say no to him

But he couldn't bother less

He wants your blood

That's why he spikes your drink and get you out of the overfilled room

Even in your drugged state you tried to fight against him but he was way to strong for you

His sucks your blood and you feel damaged

Only Mingi is allowed to do that

And the taller one never drink so much that you get unconscious

If it want for mingi Jeongin drank too much and would have ended dead

But mingi isn't satisfied with on punch

No he is going to beat the small vampire

He will never come near you again

,,M.. Mingi.. N.. No" your weak voice suddenly gets the attention of the angry vampire. His head turned to your weak body and he immediately backed off, picking you up and checking if you are okay. ,,I.. If you kill him t.. That might end in a war between ateez and skz.." You said weakly and your boyfriend nods in understanding. ,,You are probably right baby. Come on let's go home."

Yeosang

He is not known for mercy

Neither is Felix

Felix saw you, he smelled your blood and he wants you

He wants to see you cry under him while he rips you away from your mate

He usually isn't that cruel but for you he has a special addiction

Yeosang knows that

Thats why he is always very careful around him

But you know that it would have happen sooner or later

Yeosang didn't watch for a few seconds and Felix already got you

It was horrible for you, it wasn't just the drinking no

He was touching you too without any consent

You cried out for help and just in the moment you thought that no one would help you

Yeosang appeared to save you

Felix immediately disappeared

But yeosang couldn't care less

He checks on you and brings you back home

He is apologizing and he feels horrible for not being able to protect you

Even if you say it's fine he knows that it isn't

But he can't turn back time

,,N.. No y/n h.. He He.. " Yeosang mumbled out and looked on the ground, his eyes fixed on one spot. His hand balled into a fist. ,,I will never forgive myself for not being able to stop him sooner." Yeosang wasn't the person who cried easily, so his tears staining his cheek breaks your heart.

Wooyoung

He trusted Changbin

He was friends with him and they liked eachother

So he trusted him to take care of you while he is gone for a while

But this was a mistake

Once he came home

He saw that the other vampires drinks from you while he muffled your screaming

His hands are all over your body

And Wooyoung sees red

He feels betrayed, hurt and most of all angry

Changbin doesn't get out of this alive

And you are shaking and crying in his arms

He will never forgive himself something like that

He will never trust anyone like this again

Doesn't want to face you

He distances himself from you

This one accident changed your relationship

,,N.. No leave me alone Y/N! " his heart ached just like yours. He doesn't mean it. You both know that, but the words still hurt. He is your mate, your boyfriend and the love of your life and now he is pushing you away. It hurts. It hurts so much

Jongho

Seungmin is small next to him

Physically he doesn't have a chance against Jongho

But he is smart, very smart

It wasn't easy but Seungmin got you

He wanted you, from the first time he saw you he wanted you and your blood

It was an obsession

A cruel obsession

He knows that jongho and you are mates

That you will never feel the same for him like you feel for Jongho

But if he can't have you, no body can

He drinks without your consent, against your will and tried to do everything to make you forget your stupid ,, mate"

Just in the time jongho gets you back

Seungmin is gone

And as you opened your eyes again, you didn't know where the person on front of you were

To say that jongho was shocked is an understatement

He was more than that

So much more than that

,,Y.. You.. You don't know who I am? Sweetheart don't play with me like that. It.. It isn't funny" His voice breaks a few times and he desperately hoped that this is just a sick joke of yours, but his hope got crashed down as you shook your head. ,,I.. I don't know who you are.. I-please leave me alone.."

[sweet-potatoq]

ok i really wanna dive into this xicheng gymnast au ive got going on because its self-idulgent a really cool idea and ive been really interested in gymnastics recently (little angst bc im a weak bitch)

here are jiang cheng, nie huaisang, wei wuxian designs; ill add more as i draw

so jc, nhs, and wwx are popular rhythmic gymnasts and are a fan favourite in the fandom (?)

jc loves the ribbon but can also do club and rope; nhs does ball, ribbon and club; wwx can do all five (ribbon, ball, hoop, club, and rope) but he likes doing hoops the most

the three of them are pretty close since they have time to chitchat at the small louge area for resting; theyre also often called the powerpuff girls (ppg) since they wear red, green and purple (ik bubbles is blue but just roll w it)

jc has a no. 1 fan, like the biggest jc fan ever, and its a famous musician, lan xichen; literally his social media is filled with jc photos, fancams, and videos (sometimes he posts selfies with his jc merch that me probably made on his own)

ppg knows about lxc and teases jc about him so much

"did you see his face lighting up once it was jc's turn? he even brought a handmade light up banner for him omg"

jc is both flattered and annoyed (mostly because he gets teased a lot for it) but every gift lxc gives him (read: yeets on the floor) is treasured

its mostly bouquets of lotus flowers and teddy bears (there are times when he throws heavily a box safely wrapped in thick bubble wrap and tons and tons of tape and inside is just cute bracelets, necklaces and rings)

secret: jc wears it under his clothes and costume

secret secret: it sometimes comes out and lxc screams about it on twt

anyways, one day at a competition, ppg makes a bet that if jc gets a score higher than 18 in ribbons, then he has to go to lxc and ask him out

jc is torn bc he really wants a high score but is too shy to ask lxc out

spoiler: jc gets a 18.5 and now he has to approach lxc

jc's too shy to do it in person so he reaches out thru twt and dms him a

"hey uh i know ur like a big fan and i appreciate ur gifts but sometimes they look expensive anyways can i treat u to dinner to compensate"

LXC FREAKS OUT AND MESSAGES EVERYBODY HE KNOWS

lwj: do it, nmj: coward accept it, jgy: once in a lifetime opportunity, fucking do it pussy

spoiler #2: lxc accepts and jc takes him to a nice restaurant on a nice night out

its super awkward at first but once lxc takes over the conversation (mostly gushing about jc's techniques and routines) they find a nice flowing convo

"i had a great time" "me too!! im honoured to have had a dinner with my idol" "gay panic"

jc and lxc keep talking thru twt dms until they finally exchange numbers

"huan-ge" "CHENG CHENG 😭🥺💖"

they eventually go out again, and again, and again, until finally lxc gets brave and asks him out ON A DATE!!! as if the other hangouts arent dates 🙄

now theyre B O Y F R I E N D S ~ ✨

but secret bc jc is still new to everything and is lowkey overwhelmed by it, lxc agrees and does his best to make jc more comfortable and make him feel loved

they do fight over how jc's still being cold after months of dating and the fact that their relationship is still a secret doesnt help AT ALL

after numerous fights about it, lxc breaks and unloads all of HIS insecurity

"ive been feeling like ive forced you into this relationship, that my love and adoration for you made you feel as if you needed to compensate for that like how you did when we first went out. you've been cold and reject my affection and it hurts me even though i know you've said that you're just not used to it, but jiang cheng, we've been dating for 8 months now and i was so sure that by this point you'd be more comfortable. i love you a-cheng but i feel like you dont love me back."

something in the lines of that but you get me right?

ANYWAYS lxc keeps his distance from jc and jc does the same bc shit he feels bad that he made lxc think and feel that way

ppg notice that jc has been acting weird and asks him abt it and jc opens up to them about his relationship with lxc and ppg just go from 👁️👄👁️ to 😬☹️😞 because yikes

nhs and wwx obvi helps him brainstorm ideas as to how to apologize and show lxc that jc truly loves him the same way but theyre so busy with training and practicing for finals wHEN SUDDENLY NHS GOES

"what if... you dressed... in a blue and white costume... and wore the gifts he gave..."

BOOM jc gets the same costume from his routine tailored in white and blue and gets a pearlescent ribbon, shining blue to purple and wears pretty cloud earrings and replaces his zidian ring with a matching cloud ring

he goes to his finals in that costume AND ALL HIS FANS RIOT

"holy SHIT jc is wearing blue???" "what happened to the old costume??" "its the same one but in blue??" "hes so handsome tho"

lxc is obvi there at the finals because he is first and foremost, jc's no. 1 fan

nmj and lwj are with lxc bc lxc needs emotional support, and with the added bonus of jc's beautiful costume and accessories, he just LOSES it and cries on the spot bc hes a softie

jc performs his routine, gets an unbelievable high score and wins a gold medal (deserve) and on the podium, he asks for a mic and tells the whole fucking world his feelings for lxc

"ive been dating lan xichen, my no. 1 fan, for 8 months and its been the best 8 months of my entire life. its been a secret to everybody we both know because i was too scared to say something, too scared that everybody would reject it and judge us. but now that i realized it has put a strain on our relationship, it made me think. why should i worry about this? why should i be scared? why, when i have him by my side to support me and love me? im so sorry huan-ge that ive made you feel unloved and unwanted because i do love you. i love you so fucking much and it hurts me that you feel this way because of me. i hope that you're here somewhere in the audience to hear this, maybe not since we're not okay, but know that ill do better. ill let myself love you wholy and freely from now on if you'll let me."

cue jc crying and lxc also crying (harder) and probably the whole world crying with them even lwj lets out a tear or two

cue cue lxc fucking jumping out the barracade, fall on his ass, running towards the podium, tripping and landing on his face, standing up and limping, then tackling jc and almost making them fall over bc lxc is chaotic like that

cue cue cue lots of crying and hugging and screaming from the audience and probably the medical team rushing in because holy shit lxc did that and jc is still hitting him for almost dying??

social media fucking blows up with numerous photos of jc, videos of jc's speech, photos and videos of lxc and jc and loads of support messages for the two of them

it ends with lxc posting numerous selfies of him and jiang cheng being lovey dovey with a really cheesy caption that probably goes like

"HE HAS NO RIGHT TO MAKE MY KOKORO GO DOKI DOKI" or "i love one (1) man and its my boyfriend- oops i meant fiance"

the end sksks theres other couples in this like wangxian and nieyao but really minor so i didnt put them in BUT how is this story? is it worth writing out? or is it ok as is?

[sweetiejunie]

Don’t mind me

Summary: annoyed, you wanted to get back at him

Genre: smut

Yeonjun x reader

=====================================

There he went again, screaming and laughing into the mic at some of his friend while they played, what you now know to be labeled as, an fps game. Sometimes you felt bad for his mic, having no escape from the torture, but at the same time, neither did you.

His computer was located a mere wall away from your shared bedroom, in the echoey living room of your home. On nights where he wanted to stay up playing games, you would head to bed first, neither of you seemed to mind really. Eventually, someways throught the night, you would hear the door creak open and a pair of arms would wrap around you.

It was currently 4am when you had once again woke up to the noise of your boyfriend hysterically laughing and swearing at his teammates when ‘did something stupid’ as he would put it. You never understood what could possible get him so riled up about a game.

This wasn’t the first time yeonjun has woken you up with one of his antics. It’s happened many nights before but every time you tried to talk to him about it, he would apologise and immediately forget what you had just agreed on.

Tonight, however, you weren’t having it anymore. You decided to do something about it, something more than just using words or having a chat with him. You wanted to mess with him... i guess you could say you wanted to fuck with him, both literally and metaphorically.

Wearing an oversized tshirt that belonged to yeonjun, you stepped out of the bedroom. The moment you opened the door, his voice was even more amplified, the only barrier left between you and him now removed. As much as you loved him, you hated him for interrupting your sleep.

Entering the dark living room, you spotted him at his usual corner, next to the TV, facing the windows. You walked up behind him and placed your hands on his, so very broad, shoulders gently massaging them as you wanted to first make your presence known.

He was only dressed in a simple tank top and sweatpants, yet he still managed to pull it off, looking absolutely amazing.

“Oh hey love. Sorry, did i wake you?” He asked, muting his mic and removing his headphone. He tilted his head up to look at you.

His skin glowed a tint of blue as mixture of moonlight and light emulating from the monitor screen reflected off him. As ethereal as he may have looked at that moment, you had to remind yourself you supposed to be mad at him.

“No it’s alright. Dont mind me, continue your game, i just wanted to watch you play for a while,” you said, in a sort of passive agressive manner.

You didn’t want to tell yeonjun your actual motive for coming out here, and you highly doubted he wanted to know either.

Turning back to his game, he unmuted himself and spoke with his teammates again. You took this opportunity to begin placing kisses along his neck.

“Y/n what are you-”

“Shh,” you placed a finger on his lips. Holding back a smirk, you continued, “like i said, dont mind me and continue your game. I’d like to play a game of my own, and the only rule is that you’re not allowed to mute yourself anymore.”

He looked at you in confusion. ‘Yeonjun where are you?’ You heard one of his teammates ask through his headsets.

“Your friends are looking for you babe, it’s rude to keep them waiting,” you said with a pout, showing yeonjun you were ‘innocent’.

Having no choice, he put on his headphones and returned his attention to the game. “Yeah I’m here, sorry. I just got a little distracted by something.”

You continued your actions, littering kisses along his neck, jawline and anywhere else you could reach from that angle. You smirked as you heard yeonjun try to swallow a lump that had formed in his throat.

Moving one side of his headset to the back of his ear, you leaned in. “Gosh babe, you look so hot in tank tops, you should wear them more often,” you said breathily, just loud enough for him to hear, making sure his mic couldn’t.

Running your hands up and down his bare biceps, you laughed as yeonjun pressed his lips together, afraid of replying you, afraid of what the mic would pick up.

Grabbing one of his hands, you lifted his arm up and slid between him and the table, straddling him. You placed his hand back where you picked it up and rested your arms on his shoulders. You watched as his actions froze, both in real life and in game.

“You better keep playing before they start getting suspicious,” you warned, looking at him with your doe eyes.

Unable to process what was going on, yeonjun didnt dare move.

“I said keep playing babe, don’t pay any attention to me.”

‘Yeonjun! Quick we need back up! Where are you!’ Hearing his teammates voice, immediately, yeonjun woke up from his dazed stated.

“I’m- I’m on my way!” He hesitantly replied them.

You gave him a look of approval as he tried his hardest not to be bothered by your actions. Seeing him struggle to keep his composure amused you. He continued talking to his teammates, attempting to sound like his normal self. I would tell you what he was saying but honestly, you didn’t really care about that.

You continued placing kisses on his neck, gently sucking on the skin, leaving subtle marks as you made your way down. Arms tighly wrapped around the back of his neck, you felt as he started to poke your inner tigh. You took this as an indication to start grinding on him.

Not wanting to block his view of the screen, you lifted your head just enough to see his expression. Pleased when you noticed how hard he was fighting back a groan as he grew harder underneath you.

You stripped yourself of his shirt. And lucky for him, or maybe not so lucky in this case, that left you in a pair of lace lingerie you had put on, knowing it was his favourite.

“You know, you don’t have to hold back. You could always just let your dear friends know how you’re getting laid right now,” you whispered into his ear.

Yeonjun swallowed hard, keeping his mouth shut as he felt your breath tickling his ear. He wanted to touch you so badly, but he could take his hands off the keyboard, not wanting to get killed.

Determined to get that groan out of him, you hands wondered down to your own core as you touched yourself through your panties. You continued, “fuck babe, i just want you in me so badly.”

You played with your clit and let out a whine. You knew how much yeonjun hated you touching yourself. You didn’t need to now that you had him. Yeonjun’s pupils were blown up with lust as he watched your little act.

“I’m so wet for you, i just want to ride you right now. You’ll be quiet for me right? Unless, of couse, you want them to hear,” grinning, head resting on his shoulder as your hands moved underneath his shirt. You pushed yourself down against him harder, adding the preasure you both so desired.

He chocked on nothing, contemplating his choices, hesistant to make a decision. Of couse, he did want to fuck you, but he didn’t want his teammates to know what was going on either.

You noticed his hesitation and decided to answer for him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. As long as you dont make too much noise, you won’t embarasse youself in front if your teammates.”

You pulled his pants and boxer down, just enough for his member spring free from its confines. You pumped him a few times, loving the sight as precum leaked from the tip. Spreading it down his shaft, using it as lubrication, you stood up slightly, pushing your panties to the side as you slowly sat down on him.

You let out a content sigh as he filled you to the brim, and yeonjun only wished he could do the same. You laughed slightly as you noticed how he started to respond his teammates with one word answers instead, his mind probably a mess of thoughts.

“You feel so good, you fill me up so good yeonjun,” you said as you started to move your hips on his cock. Using him however you pleased.

You threw your head back, letting out a moan, feeling him twitched inside you as he bite his lip so hard he could almost draw blood.

“Fuck junnie, I’m cumming,” you said, hands on his shoulder for support as you rode out your high.

By this point, yeonjun was in so much ecstasy he didn’t care about the game anymore, the screen just became one big blur to him as he ignored all the complaints he was hearing through the voice chat. Just as he was about to reach his own high, you stopped.

You stood up, getting off him and retrieving his tshirt off the ground. Giving him a wink as you made your way back to the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Leaving a very confused, and frustrated, yeonjun behind, wondering what on earth just happened.

You knew what was going to happen afterwards. Yeonjun hated being teased, and even more so, being left with blue balls. Most people would be a little more worried in this situation, but not you, you loved a rough and frustrated yeonjun.

You sat on your bed, legs crossed as you heard footsteps approach the bedroom. And well, you can guess what happened next.

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Am not turning into a smut blog but ill just write whatever i feel like writing at the time. And a little smut never hurt anyone right 😉 still not good at writing these sorts of things but I’m working on it!

Masterlist

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 19

Title: Control

Warnings: profanity

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007​

“What the fuck is she doing here?”

They converse in harsh whispers as they seek refuge in the pantry. Using the excuse of wanting to prepare food and drink for their unwanted and unwelcome guests and then leaving them in the living room. They’ve been bickering back and forth for half an hour; arguing about the Sarge’s appreciation and approval of chosen furniture and decor and Michelle’s distaste of the ‘mix mash’ of colours and themes on the Christmas tree. Her voice is enough to drive Tyler over the edge. The way it picks up in both pitch and volume when she’s vehemently defending even the most pointless or ridiculous of things, the Midwestern twang that becomes stronger and more noticeable the more annoyed she becomes, the constant tinge of self righteousness and condescension. She’s the classic narcissistic; infamous for her staggering gift of gaslighting and her ability to make herself seem like the victim despite being the quintessential bully and walking definition of ‘mommy dearest’. Through the five years they’d spent in Colorado, he’d tried his best to ‘mend fences’; extending the olive branch a handful of times in hopes of helping to both repair the relationship between mother and daughter, and create a bond between Michelle and her grandchildren.

They HAD reached a somewhat peaceful agreement; she’d attempt to tone down her hatred towards him and at least try and treat her daughter like a fully functioning adult instead of a hopeless, hapless child. But it had lasted all of three weeks; his involvement with Michael McMann and the subsequent threats against his family only caused the woman’s spite and hatred for him to grow. After that, she’d vowed to never forgive him for putting her daughter and grandkids in danger, and double downed on her belief that he ‘stole’ Esme away and somehow bullied and intimidated her into not only marrying him and giving him children, but returning to Australia. She refused to accept any responsibility for either her daughter’s struggles with mental illness or her horrible self esteem, and placed the blame solely on Esme’s shoulders; calling her weak and pathetic and insisting that she had married a horrifically abusive man and was simply too scared to leave him. He WAS a mercenary after all; he brutalized and killed people for a living. He was an alcoholic and drug addict; his brain unstable and volatile. His involvement in the job immediately made him a threat; he was strong and big and capable of tremendous and painful bloodshed. What would stop him from inflicting damage -or even death- on her?

“How the hell would I know? I’m just as shocked as you are. Not to mention totally embarrassed. My mother and step father know what we were up to; before you answered the door. I didn’t have any pants on! Just your shirt! They heard me talking about how you destroyed my underwear! Not to mention you’re not wearing a shirt and your back and ribs are clawed to shit and you’ve got the whole ‘just got fucked’ messy hair going on. Do you know humiliating this is?”

“I’m pretty sure they know we have sex. We have seven kids. I don’t think they’re going to be surprised that we fuck. For fun. Not just for procreating.”

“It’s one thing for them to know we have it, but it’s another thing for them to know we JUST had it. How the hell am I supposed to keep a straight face around them? When they know I just got done getting railed?”

“Imagine if they knew you got railed TWICE. And besides, us fucking? Them knowing it? That’s the least of our problems. Your mother...who I fucking hate more than I have ever hated anyone OTHER than my old man...just showed up on our goddamn doorstep. And she’s planning on staying.”

“Well, Sarge did say they’re staying at a hotel.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I fucking meant and you know it. But you know what? They’re damn lucky they DID get one. Because there was no way in hell I’d let them stay here. I’d pay for the hotel myself. What the hell, Esme? Why are they here? Did you know they were going to do this?”

“I never would have invited them here. And even if they HAD mentioned they were coming, I would have told you. I don’t want them here anymore than you do. I’m not the one blame for this.”

“I told you to call her back. Or text her. When it became clear that she wasn’t satisfied with your ‘thank you’ email and started messaging you and calling you, THAT was your chance. You should have got some fucking balls about you and talked to her. Did I not tell you? To get in contact with her? To avoid her escalating? Did I NOT say that?”

“You did,” she admits. “You DID say that. And I should have listened to you. I WAS going to call her.”

“After Christmas. When we got home. You should have done it days ago; when she started calling at all hours of the goddamn day. Did you really think she’d stop? That she WOULDN’T escalate? You know her. You know how fucked up she is. What did you think was going to happen when you kept avoiding her?”

“Not this!” She wildly gestures with both arms in the direction of the living room. “I didn’t know she’d just show up! There’s no way I could have known that. She always has a big thing at Christmas. It’s her chance to look perfect and come across as the most amazing mother and hostess ever. I didn’t think she’d ever give up the opportunity to do THAT. And why are you mad at me? This isn’t my fault!”

“You know what? It is. Because I told you to call her. So she’d stop her shit and leave us alone. And now look! She’s sitting in our fucking living room. On Christmas Eve. And how the hell did she even know our address? How did she know where we live? You can’t look it up on the internet; I made sure of that. So some asshole wanting a piece of me wouldn’t come after my family.”

“I don’t know how she found out. Someone must have given it to her.”

“Who would know? Riley? Riley would tell her to go fuck herself.”

“Maybe Riley told her dad and he let it slip somehow. I don’t know, Tyler. I don’t know HOW she found out. And yeah, maybe I should have grown a set and talked to her. My bad. But you being pissed at me is NOT helping. We need to be in this together. Not fighting and tearing each other apart.”

“I’m about five minutes away from totally losing my shit. You know what the last two days have been like. How I’ve been struggling. And now she’s here? If she ever wanted to give me a psychotic break, this would be her perfect chance. Just watch the son in law completely snap; prove to everyone just how big of a fuck up he really is.”

“You are NOT a fuck up. You never have been! And I know you’re struggling. I’m the one going through it WITH you. Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I want her here? That is the last thing I want! But she IS here. And there’s nothing we can do about it other than suck it up and get through this together! And you snapping on me is NOT helping! I’m not the enemy, Tyler!”

“I never said you were. I’m just saying that…”

His words trail off as his attempts at damage control are ignored. Her petite frame intentionally bumping into him as she steps away; frowning when he tries to grab hold of her wrist and she aggressively yanks her hand away. He chooses 'peace keeping' in favour of escalation; giving them both of a chance to cool down. And he leans against the back of the pantry door, arms crossed over his chest as he watches her furtive search for something to feed their surprise visitors. The shelves are packed; extremely well stocked and organized. And while they bear a wide assortment of goods, she hastily rummages through things as if there’s nothing suitable; tears welling in her eyes and her entire body tense and her hands shaking. And suddenly he no longer sees a grown woman in front of him; the love of his life, his spouse, the mother of his children. She’s been replaced by a desperate and broken little girl so hell bent on trying to impress her mother; driving herself to the brink of panic and anxiety trying to prove herself worthy to a woman that would rather she’d never been born. And it’s far more painful than any of his own issues; an ache that claws at his heart and forms a deep, empty pit in his stomach.

“I’m sorry." Stepping behind her, he lays his hands on her shoulders and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I KNOW you’re not the enemy. And I sure as hell don’t ever want you to feel like I see you that way.”

“I know you’re going through a hard time and I know her being here is going to put you even more on edge. But I also know what will happen if we even attempt to kick them out.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t kick them out. It’s not like I’d say ‘get the fuck out and never come back’. I’d be a little more...tactful.”

“You think THIS is her escalating? Do you know what will happen if we even try to explain our way through things? Why it’s not a good time for her to be here? Do you really want to get into that with her? Considering all the things she’s already said about you? How she feels about you?”

“I don’t give a fuck what she says about me. Or how she feels about me. I don’t…”

“But I do!” She slams a jar down with even force to shake the other items on the metal shelf. Both her body and her voice tremble, and her chin and her lower lip quiver as she tries to hold back a threatening flood of tears. “I care what she says about you! I’ve always cared! Because it hurts! You’re my husband and the father of my children and you deserve so much better than that. And it fucking hurts when she says that shit about you!”

“Alright...easy now." Running his palms along her upper arms, he leans down to press a kiss to her temple; lips against the side of her head as both forearms come to rest along her collarbone. “Just breathe, Esme..." he draws her against him, squeezing as tight as her little body will allow. “...it’s okay…”

“I care what she says because I love you. Because I know what kind of man you are. Because I know what kind of heart you have and how much you love me and our kids. Because you’ve almost died for me. TWICE. Because she doesn’t know you like I do and she won't even give you a chance. And THAT hurts. To hear those kinds of things about the person you love more than you love yourself. Who SAVED you.”

“I never saved…”

“You did!” she interjects. “You saved me in every way a person can be saved. And you’ve been willing to die for me. Right from the start. And all she can do is hate you and talk shit about you and you have no idea what it does to me. What it does to my heart.”

“I’m sorry…” his lips brush her cheek, then settle against her ear. “...I never thought of it that way. I never thought about it hurting you like that.”

“I hate that she won’t even give you a chance. I hate that she looks at you like you’re some kind of horrible, evil person. That she treats our kids like garbage. I don’t care what she says about me. Or how she treats me. But when she does that to you? Or our kids? That shit kills me inside.”

“You’ve got to let it just roll off you, Me. Stop letting her have this power over you. Stop giving her that kind of control. It’s what she wants. It’s probably why she’s here. See how far she can push you. Try to break you. And I know you usually tell me not to react and keep the peace, but I don’t think I can. I won’t let her disrespect you. I don’t let ANYONE do that. So I can’t promise you that I won’t snap on her. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

She closes her eyes as she leans her head back against his chest; tips of her fingertips repeatedly gliding along his forearms. “I’m at the point where I honestly wish you would. I mean, maybe not go BATSHIT on her. I don’t want her calling the cops or child protective services. But I would seriously enjoy you going off on her within reason.”

“Baby, I will protect you from anyone or anything. I will stand up for you no matter what. You want me to flip my shit on her? I’ll do it. Want me to toss her ass out into the street? I’ll do that too. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. And I AM sorry,” he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, followed by her cheek and then her temple. “I didn’t mean to snap on you. That wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m an asshole.”

“You can be,” she admits, and he loosens his hold on her when she turns around to face him. Hands falling to her hips and then sliding around to the small of her back, fingers laced together. “But it’s rare. That you’re like that with me. And I know you’re on edge. I know you’re going through some real bullshit. And believe me, I would give anything to take that away. To make everything better for you.”

“I know you would,” he presses his lips to her forehead. “And I’m serious; I’d do anything to protect you. Against anyone or anything.”

“I know. I’ve always known you would. Right from day one. Even then you were pretty intense. When it came to the whole watching over me thing.”

“Well technically it WAS my job.”

“You were getting some good benefits on that job.”

“They were pretty damn stellar, I gotta admit. Who needs dental or prescriptions covered? I’ll take the five days of hot sex.”

“You were very well compensated for your hard work. Actually, I think you were pretty spoiled. I think you STILL are.”

“I am not going to deny that.”

“I’m sorry too. I SHOULD have got a hold of her. I shouldn’t have waited. This is just a huge mess. But I honestly didn’t think she’d do something like this. I know she’s crazy, but THIS crazy? What are we going to do? We have our things that we do. With the kids. We have our own traditions for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We can’t just forget about it all. It’s what they’re used to. It makes them happy. And to be honest? It makes ME happy.”

“And we’ll keep everything the same. I’m letting her fuck things up. For the kids or you. We’ll just go on with it. Do what we’re used to. If she doesn’t like it, fuck her.”

“You just know the kids aren’t going to be happy. The boys and Millie are old enough to remember how awful she was to them. Millie still talks about the time grandma said she was a mistake because mommy and daddy weren’t married when she was made. And Tanner? Tanner had nightmares for three years about you going to hell because you got me pregnant out of wedlock.”

“Well in all honesty, I was probably already going there because of other things.”

She stares up at him pointedly.

“I’m kidding. That was a joke. Not a very well timed one, but…”

“And what if she gets on Nugget about being antisocial? About needing sensory breaks? About needing his safe place and his safe person? I can guarantee she doesn’t give a shit about Autism and won’t bother learning about it. I bet she’s even in denial about. That she’ll say something like ‘there’s nothing wrong with him other than your parenting.’.”

“She says something like that? I WILL toss her ass out onto the street. Literally. Talk shit about my kid AND my wife? That’s not happening in my house.”

“Then we have Declan. A bull in a china shop. You know she’ll get on his ass about being too loud and too hyper and too active.”

“He’s a kid. He’s eight. And he’s got red hair. Of course he’s wild.”

“What about Brooklyn? She looks cute, but she is all daddy and she’s a savage. She will pick up on my mother’s bad vibes and she’ll open her mouth and all hell will break loose.”

“Babe…” he unlocks his fingers and moves his hands to her hips; squeezing tightly and softly massaging. “...you are working yourself up even more and that’s the last thing either of us need right now. Take a breath. It’s going to be okay.”

“And then there’s Takota. Who is crazy shy and super sensitive and I already know he’ll hate her.”

“He’s in good company then. We ALL hate her.”

“You get her and all seven of them together? It’s a recipe for disaster. Especially the Tanner thing. Because TJ will go the fuck off if she even steps out of line with Tanner.”

“So what do you want me to do? Sneak the kids out of the house and replace them with imposters? Get the real ones back once your mom leaves?”

She sighs in exasperation. “You are NOT helping.”

“I think you need to calm down and just let shit take its course. Whatever happens, happens. We can’t predict what’s going to go down and stop it before it does. And you know what else we can’t do? Stay in here for the rest of the day. We went to look for food to make. We’ve been in here for half an hour. She probably thinks we’re in here having sex.”

“We SHOULD have sex. Really piss her off.”

“While I’d normally be right into it, I don’t think even I can get it up under these kinds of conditions. Your mother is kind of a mood killer. Remember how we barely had sex when we lived at her place? And then totally made up for it when we moved into the farmhouse?”

“I always thought you were saying no for other reasons. You always told me you were worried about ‘hurting the baby’.”

“You actually believed that?”

“You were very convincing. I thought maybe you were just super paranoid that something would happen to Millie. And that you suddenly got over it. You should have just told me.”

“The whole ‘honey, your mother’s voice makes me impotent’ wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have. So while I love you and I’d love to be able to bang the shit out of you right now and have you making the kinds of noises I know you’re capable of, it’s not going to happen. We need to get our shit together and deal with this.”

“You know what I was thinking? Never mind getting the kids out of the house. WE can sneak out.”

“And leave the kids with your mother? I know I hate her, but I love my kids and I would not do that to them. Now…” placing his hands on her cheeks, he gently turns his face up towards him. . “...we need to get out there before she comes and breaks the door down. You gonna be alright?”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

“I got you, Me. I always do. We’ll get through this like we do with everything else,” he presses a kiss to her brow, then to her lips. “Together.”

*****

They make awkward small talk; brief snippets of conversation in between sips coffee and tea and nibbles of the assortment of finger foods Esme had prepared and laid out on the coffee table. There’s a lot that SHOULD be said; grievances waiting to be aired, hurt feelings dying to be brought to the surface, demands for both forgiveness and apology. But for the time being it’s nothing more than comments on the weather; the differences between the dry Colorado chill and the dampness that plagues the Eastern Seaboard. Five years have passed and no attempts have been made to heal both old and fresh wounds; Esme’s mother either in denial of her shortcomings and her responsibility in pushing her daughter out of her life, or simply refusing to accept blame or apologize for all the damage she’d caused over the years. For the most part she stays silent. Leaving it up to her husband to ask about the kids and life in Australia while she ignores the conversation entirely; spending her time glancing around at their belongings with a look of pure disdain. He even sees the way her entire body stiffens whenever he so as much shows Esme even the slightest bit of attention or affection; eyes narrowing and lips tightly pursing together if he gives her a reassuring smile or wraps an arm around her shoulders or presses a kiss to the side of her head. He knows the mother in law can’t stand it; any form of physical interaction between them or the way they’re so in tune with each other’s body language and facial expressions. Able to easily and effortlessly read each other’s awkwardness or nervousness and then doing their best to provide comfort and support.

He’s been hated since the very beginning. Viewed as the enemy who’d ‘stolen’ Esme from her family and somehow convinced her to give up her old life in favour of a new one with him; keeping her trapped by repeatedly getting her pregnant and intimidating and terrorizing her into staying with him. And while they HAVE had their issues and stumbling blocks, he’s never been THAT bad; refusing to follow in his father’s legacy as a domestic abuser and all around asshole. Even at his worst he’s always adored her; respecting her as the love of his life and the mother of his children. Any logical and rational parent would want that for their kid; someone who worships them and busts their ass to provide for them, who has proven time and time again that they’d willingly sacrifice their own life for theirs. But it’s never been enough. All the good going ignored yet all the bad being thrown in his face and used against him. And while he’s the first to admit he’s not perfect, he also knows that he’s not the monster even his own brain often makes him out to be.

“Do you still do what you do?” The mother in law addresses him, refusing to make even the smallest amount of eye contact.

“Not as much anymore. Now I have employees I send to kill people.”

Beside him, Esme clears her throat noisily and then reaches for a mug of tea that sits on edge of the coffee table. She’s been on edge since the moment she’d finally sat down beside him; nervously bouncing her leg up and down or swinging it from side, or chewing on her bottom lip or thumbnail. He’s done his best to step up and be her rock; tucking her into his side or taking her hand or running a palm over her hair. Little things that let her know that she’s safe. That he’s more than ready, willing, and able to protect her. And it gives him something else to concentrate on other than his own issues; caring for her forcing the dark and dire thoughts plaguing his brain to take a back seat.

Michelle tucks her chin into her chest and stares at him pointedly. “YOU have employees?”

“I own my own business,” he says, then wraps an arm around Esme’s shoulders and gives her arm a squeeze. “WE own our own business. We have for almost six years now.”

“A mercenary business?”

He nods. “A successful one too. Very successful, actually.”

“Tyler’s good at what he does,” Esme says, as she lays a hand on his knee and lightly squeezes; the smile she gives him one of love and pride. “VERY good at what he does. He already had quite the reputation before starting his own company. Now that he has? He’s extremely well known and extremely well respected and sought after. His guys are the best of the best. Second to no one. You won’t find people like that anywhere else.”

Her mother stares at her; a mixture of disbelief and disgust. “And you’re perfectly fine with that? Him having THAT kind of business? Making money by killing people? Or having others do it for him?”

“There’s more to it than that, Michelle,” he husband grumbles. “Way more to it.”

“That’s not all it entails,” Esme informs her. “It’s not just about killing. It’s about helping people. It’s about protecting them and defending them. It’s about doing what’s right. Just because you don’t understand it…”

“You’re right. I don’t. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand it now and I didn’t understand it twelve and a half years ago when you willingly ran off with a man that kills people for a living. That has so much blood and God knows what else on his hands.”

“That’s not all he did, mom. He didn’t just kill people. He’s saved a lot more than he’s hurt, believe me. But you can’t seem to grasp that because you’re too busy hating him for stupid reasons. I didn’t care that he was a mercenary. I was just as much as involved as he was. So stop making him out to be some kind of monster because you have some bullshit vendetta against him. Stop…”

“Let’s just try and calm down, okay?” Tyler suggests, his hand on the top of her arm as he pulls her into him; lips pressing against her temple, then her ear. “Just breathe, babe. No need to get worked up.”

“It’s typical of her, isn’t it,” Michelle snorts. “She’s always been over dramatic. Always blowing things way out proportion. How you’ve managed to put up with her for this long, I’ll never know. I’ll give you credit for THAT; being strong enough to hang in there. Mark sure wasn’t.”

“Don’t,” Esme warns. “Don’t you dare bring him up. Don’t you come into my house and sit here across from my husband and bring that piece of shit up.”

“He was a good man, Esme. You just couldn’t see that. You were too busy finding faults. It’s what you do. You get bored of people easily. Which is why it's extra shocking that you’ve made it this far. Twelve and a half years, seven children. Normally you would have pushed him away by now. I don’t understand the appeal, but you seem to. I guess whatever works for you…”

“You know what, it DOES work. WE work. And I know you hate that. I know you hate that I’m happy. That I got away. That I found someone that loves me. Someone that won’t let you control me and manipulate me and abuse me. That’s what it is, isn’t it. That’s why you don’t like Tyler. He doesn’t let you get away with your shit.”

Laying a hand on the side of her head, Tyler draws her even tighter into him, lips against her hair as he speaks. “I think you need to calm down, Me. Just try and relax, okay?”

“You really ARE brainwashed,” Michelle says. “You will defend him no matter what he does. No matter how much he drinks or how many pills he pops or how many times he puts you and those children on the back burner. You will always defend him.”

“I will. And you know why? Because he’s a good man, mom. He’s a good man and he’s a great husband and he’s an even better father. Only you don’t see that side of him. You’ve never been able to. You REFUSE to see it. You refuse to see how much he loves me and his kids. How he’d do anything to protect us. How he’s so willing to lay down his life for mine. You don’t see any of that. Because you don’t want to.”

“Why don’t you get some air?” Tyler suggests. “You’re getting a little worked up, babe. Just go and take a few minutes and…”

“I WILL defend him,” Esme continues. “I will ALWAYS defend him. I will defend him until my last breath. And you know why? Because he would do the same for me. He HAS done the same for me. No questions asked. So don’t you care come into my house and disrespect my husband like this. I spent years letting you walk all over me. And I refuse to let you try that shit now.”

Wrapping his fingers around her upper arm, Tyler gets to his feet; pushing into the soft flesh as a silent request for her to follow. “We’re going to go and step outside for a bit. Neither of us do very well when people just show up on the doorstep. And she’s a little on edge; Christmas always stresses her out.”

“It’s not Christmas,” his wife argues. “It’s her! It’s always her! And she just keeps pushing me and pushing me…”

His hand moves to the back of her neck, effectively steering her towards the front hallway. “Let’s go and get some air. You’ll feel better if you do.”

“Only thing that’s going to make me feel better is that bitch out of my house,” Esme mutters, as she shoves her feet into her beloved -and hated, by him and the kids- Crocs as he opens the front door and gently pushes her outside. Smirking when he hears The Sarge laying into the mother in law; accusing her of being insensitive and intentionally ‘stirring the pot’ and to stop acting like the victim when she’s the one that’s ‘doling out the bullshit’.

Stepping out onto the porch, he allows the door to shut behind him, then lays his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “You need to calm down.”

“I can’t do this.” She shivers in the cold; arms folded across her body and her hands aggressively rubbing her biceps. “I thought I could. I thought I could keep my shit together; get through the next couple of days. I can’t even last two hours! Here I was worried that you’d be the one to lose it! Yet I’m ready to throw her out the front window!”

“I need you to take a breath and calm down. Don’t let her do this. This is what she wants. She wants to get under your skin and she wants to ruin things for you. Don’t give her that satisfaction, Me. You just give her power when you do that.”

“I can’t help it. She just gets under my skin and she keeps digging away and digging away. Until I can’t take it anymore. And she knows exactly what buttons to push! She knows the more she shit talks you, the angrier and more defensive I get. She knows that’s my weakness. In the same way that shitty people know yours is me and the kids. It’s why she does it; to see me squirm and get worked up and eventually snap.”

“Which is why you need to settle the fuck down.” He runs his palms along her arms, vigorously rubbing against the chilled skin. “Don’t let her do this. Don’t let her screw things up for you. For US. That's what she wants. She spent five years trying to tear us apart. She tried ruining what we had every chance she got when we were in Colorado. And if you let her get under your skin like that? You let her do that? You give her all the power. That’s what she wants. That control. Don’t fucking let her win.”

“I can’t stand when she talks about you like that. I know you have thick skin. I know you can take it. You don’t let it bother you. But think about what it feels like when someone talks shit about me. Or disrespects me. Think about how that makes YOU feel.”

“I hate it. It hurts. Makes me want to hurt them right back. Physically, usually.”

“You know what it feels like to have your heart ripped out of your chest and stomped on. Well that’s what it's like for me, too. When she starts in on you. It hurts. Because I know who you are and I know much you love me and our kids and the lengths you’ll go to take care of us. To protect us. I’ve seen you on death’s door. TWICE. Because of me. Because you’ve always been so willing to sacrifice yourself for me. So when she starts on her bullshit…”

“She’s never going to see me the way you do. Hell, I don’t even see myself the way you do. But she’s another story altogether. You KNOW what she’s like. You know the hate she has for me and why she has it. So why do you let it bother you THAT bad? Just let it go in one ear and out the other, Me. Take it from the source.”

“I’m not like you, Tyler. I can’t just turn my feelings off like that. I’ve never been able to.”

“I don’t turn my feelings off. If I could, do you really think I would have busted my ass twelve and half years to get you out of Dhaka? If I was able to turn them off, I would have left you and Ovi behind and I would have saved myself. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have gone through what I did FIVE years ago. I don’t turn my feelings off and you know that. I take it from the source, babe. And her? She’s not worth my time. I don’t give a fuck what she says about me. She’s doing it to be petty. She wants power. She wants control. I won’t give it to her. And you shouldn’t either.”

“I don’t think I can do this. Just let her walk all over me. Say shit about my husband. About my kids! I can’t just sit back and listen to that shit. I just can’t.”

“So stay your distance from her. As much as you can. Avoid being alone with her. Try not to get cornered into that kind of conversation with her. I will have your back no matter what. You know that. Tell me you know that.”

“I do. I DO know that. In the same way I have YOURS.”

“I don’t need you to defend me. Or protect me. Not against her. I've gone up against bigger and better and I’ve lived to tell about it. But fuck with family? Disrespect my wife? That’s not going to happen. And you need to trust me to be the one to handle things IF they get out of control. Can you do that? Trust me?”

“I always trust you. I always HAVE. With my life. With our kids’ lives.”

“It’s going to be alright.” He rubs his hands against her upper arms, then tucks her hair behind her ears and cradles her face in his palms. “I need to get your shit together, okay? I need you. To be my wingman. Or woman. I can NOT deal with your mother and eight kids all my own. There is no way I can survive that. So you think it can keep it together? For my sake?”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I think so.”

“Because those kids are going to be home soon and your mom being here is going to throw them off and who knows what kind of shit show is going to go down. Don’t bail on me, Esme. I need you. In more ways than one. In EVERY way, actually.”

“Finally admitting it, huh?” She chides. “Only took you twelve and a half years.”

“I know you’re going to try and argue with me, but I need you a lot more than you need me.”

“I don’t think…”

“Nope." He pecks her lips to silence her. "Not gonna listen. Not even going to give you the chance to finish that sentence. Because you know I’m right. You always talk about how brave and strong I am? Me, you’re the bravest and strongest person I know. That I’ve EVER known. The things I’ve seen you go through? Willingly? The things I've seen you deal with in the past twelve and a half years? The things you've done? Especially for me? There is no one on this earth that’s stronger than you, believe me. And you have no idea how much I really do love you. How much I actually do worship you and respect you."

“It’s only Christmas Eve and you’re already going to make me cry. Don’t you usually hold off until Christmas Day? When you do something so incredibly sweet and romantic and amazing?”

“I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve,” he grins, then tangles his fingers in her hair and gently tugs her head back; lips softly pressing against his forehead. “Just stick with me, kiddo. You’ll be alright.”

“I remember you saying those exact words to me. At Gaspar’s house. In the guest room. After we…”

“It wasn’t RIGHT after. And I was being an asshole. Because you made fun of me because you said I had gray hair in my beard.”

“I didn’t make fun of you. I said it was sexy. That it would look distinguished if the whole thing went gray.”

“Old. You said I’d look old.”

“Well I MEANT distinguished.”

“Sure you did.”

“And look, twelve and a half years later, and you still have the same amount of gray in your beard. A little more in your hair, mind you.”

“All those gray hairs? They all have your name on them.”

“You can complain all you want. You can bitch and moan that I’m stubborn and I’m difficult and that I’m a huge pain in your ass. But you’d miss me if I was gone.”

He hates the feeling of dread that creeps in at those last three words; so simple and said in a light and playful way, but sending a chill that seems to borrow through his bones and travel right to his very soul. It’s his worst nightmare; facing a future without her and struggling to stay on the straight and narrow for the benefit of his kids. His old vices would return with a vengeance; the booze and the pain meds and suicidal tendencies. And then he’d lose any and all remaining links to her; his children torn from him because his demons and weaknesses would somehow overpower his love for them. But he manages a smile for her sake; never wanting her to realize just how much losing her WOULD actually destroy him.

“I don’t even like thinking about that.” His hands slip from her hair; sliding down her spine and resting at the small of her back . “Never mind talking about it.”

The smile broadens, and she perches her on tiptoes in order to wrap her arms around his neck. “I knew it,” she says, eyes sparkling playfully up as her body leans into his. “I AM your favourite. You do love me, Tyler Rake.”

“I do,” he confirms, and he lightly slaps his palms against the cheeks of her ass; lightly squeezing before drawing her into him and pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “And you have no idea how much.”

[thegreatpapersandwich]

Happy Holidays!!!

Salutations @remaining-head-spirits, I am happy to inform you that I am your Secret Santa for the @secretsantafrans @venelona event!!! The drawing will be included in a separate post, but for now, I wish to give you a little something Underfell-themed, and I really hope you like it!! (o゜▽゜)o☆

Autumn had always been Frisk’s favorite season: the copious, crisp orange and crimson leaves carpeting the ground in a golden-vermilion glow, all the soft and fluffy sweaters and socks, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla intoxicating passers-by to coffee shops and restaurants, the soft, brisk breeze of the encroaching winter...

Unfortunately, she was on a high-risk mission, and would not have time to bask in the season’s bestowal.

Especially given the fact she was embarking on this mission with Sans... The one monster that no matter how hard she tried to be kind, was absolutely and completely...

Intolerable. 

Approximately three years back, the monsters had surfaced, and Frisk, despite having saved them, had politely declined to be the Ambassador. The monsters all had rough edges, due to having lived in such a harsh environment for who-knows-how-long, and the only way Frisk had survived was through pure Determination and an open heart. Sadly, she never really got the chance to truly get to know them, despite having tried countless times, but the silver-lining was that each of them had, for a split moment, shown their true colors, and it was those moments that had given her a glimpse into who they truly were. 

Frisk had taken it upon herself to spend time and, should they accept her, dig a little deeper into the monsters she had met in hopes of calling them “friends” some day. That was until she tried to achieve such a feat with Sans. Papyrus, his brother, had been a tough nut to crack, but eventually, through the power of Italian cuisine and patience, they had bonded quite nicely, even so far as to Papyrus reaching out to her for cooking sessions and friendly chatter.

Alphys and Undyne had been quite the hard case for Frisk, given the tumultuous start of their first meeting. But again, just like with the others, Frisk not only proved herself through combat, but through her headstrong personality to give them all a chance, they deserve it, she had thought.

But Sans?

Every time Frisk so much as showed a smidgen of kindness, Sans would make sure to transform it into anger, and boy did it work. In spite of it all, she refused to give up, and time and time again, was met with animosity from this angry and self-deprecating skeleton. So much so, that Frisk truly began to question if anything would ever change for him? The others were beginning to adjust quite nicely to life in the surface, and even though he didn’t really show it much, Sans was still on edge, his guard never dropping, and his walls as high as they had been in the Underground, possibly even more so now given how humans were stronger and a threat to their existence. It was a shaky truce, but a truce nonetheless, and Frisk was only a bit relieved. Certainly not satisfied, not until monsters could be truly at peace.

Frisk high-risk mission arose when Lady Toriel had inexplicably gone missing, and Asgore had gone berserk, immediately blaming humans and threatining to declare war once again. Of course, Frisk had intervened and decided to not only be the voice of reason, but volunteered to find her and prove that humans, with all their flaws, were still worth something.

 Frisk didn’t notice then, but Sans had been staring intently at the little fiery human that was now desperately trying to prevent a war between the races, and the way her expression was pleading, but not begging, anguished, but not pitiful, Determined, but not pushy. He had always assumed she was honey-potting them, or simply marinating them before she stabbed them in the back and fed them to the wolves, yet there she had stood, fists balled-up and head held high, standing face-to-face with their king, insisting on going out to find Toriel. Sans knew humans had to have been behind all this, but stayed quiet. He felt as if a lighting bolt struck his spine when the king actually conceded and not only was willing to fund her little mission, but encouraged a monster to accompany her.

This was going to be... Interesting...

Now they walked quietly down the leaf-encrusted streets, asking for any information on Toriel they could gather, and retraced her steps before she had gone missing. There was a little flower shop near her home, where Frisk decided to do some snooping. Sans stood at the entrance, eyeing the place warily, so he decided, then and there, to conduct a little experiment,

“hey doll, I think you’d better come see this, it certainly arose some questions,” he chuckled.

Frisk rolled her eyes, fighting down a laugh with all her might, “What did you find, Sans?”

Despite him having used the evidence as a test for her reaction to his puns, there really was a clue to Toriel’s disappearance.

And it was macabre, to say the least...

“A piece of her dress... with some fur still on it. A hefty chunk at that...” Frisk could feel her eyes sting, and her stomach churn. What if she had been taken for ransom? What if someone had kidnapped the once-queen to incite more hatred between the species? And... what if she was already...

“FRISK!” Sans shouted.

She whipped her head to look at him, and just as Sans was about to call her out for spacing out, the way she was clutching at the little piece of torn cloth, her expression...

“ya spaced out fer a bit, y’need to keep it together doll, we should ask the shopkeeper some questions,” Sans mumbled, making his way to the man behind the counter.

Frisk’s eyes went wide with disbelief: had he just shown... restraint?

With no luck and empty stomachs, they headed to a little mom and pop sandwich shop a few streets down, despite much protest from Sans,

“why can’t we just hit up a fast food joint? it’d be quicker and taste better too!” he had pressed.

So much for the restraint, huh? Frisk thought tiredly, “Supporting local businesses is important, and either way it’s a lot closer to our next stop than the next burger place, but you’re more than welcome to go. I’m gonna use all the daylight to my advantage.”

Sans gave a curt and dry laugh, “y’know what? i will head over that way, see ya when i see ya.” He took the quickest shortcut she had ever seen him pull, leaving her alone and frustrated.

Frisk could guess why he was so distrustful, but she was doing everything she possibly could to prove she wasn’t a bad person, but then again, the hardest nuts to crack sometimes yielded the best flavors. Maybe.

A few hours rolled by with Frisk checking stores, hotel rooms and their records, undetected, and parks. Her only lead was the cloth from her dress and a hotel record of her having stayed there less than a day, where, upon further questioning, the receptionist had seen her with someone else, and they were apparently in a rush to someplace downtown, but didn’t catch the name or location of their destination.

So there she sat, cloth in hand, eyes welling up with cold, bitter tears that felt thick and left salt-saturated streaks along her face. Her sobs were quiet, but they rocked her body into painful little shudders. Frisk had finally achieved significant progress with Toriel, even so far as to talking about her deceased children over a cup of tea and shedding a tear or two during their conversation. Toriel had been carrying such an agonizing and heavy burden for so long, no wonder she had lost her mind, or nearly had since she seemed to have recovered well-enough to adjust. Deep down, however, Frisk knew that the grief of a parent was powerful and would never truly dissipate, that was why she was completely heart-wrenched at the thought that she was put through even more pain, and possibly suffered before-

“i don’t think yer gonna find Toriel by sitting on a bench and crying yer ass off...” Sans mused.

Great, this was just what she needed: an angry, emotionally-constipated, selfish, crude, ill-mannered skeleton to come and-

He sat next to her, and gave her something in a wrapper.

“What’s this...?” Frisk took it and turned it over in her hands.

“i didn’t mean t’spy on ya, but i take it yer not dealing with this any better than us, so just take that and let’s find a place t’crash,” Sans mumbled.

Confused, but intrigued, Frisk removed the wrapping and found a little deck of cards still neatly tucked in their little box. It had a note on it:

“Stop yer whinin’ and take yer mind off’a things. after all, you were just dealt a bad hand.”

Frisk looked up and smiled at him, “Thank you Sans, this means a lot-”

“yeah, yeah, c’mon, i scouted out a few hotels and there should be one a few blocks away, let’s get goin’” Sans practically bolted from the bench, 

Frisk looked back down at the cards and felt her smile soften, “I knew he was a good guy...”

Sans had arrived at the hotel before Frisk, but when she walked in, Sans was irate and making threats at the lady behind the counter,

“I RESERVED THAT ROOM AND YOU JUST GAVE IT AWAY TO A BUNCH OF ASSHOLES AND THEIR SNOT-NOSED BRATS!!?? I SWEAR I’LL FUCKING DRAG THEM OUTTA THERE AND BEAT-”

“SANS! I’m so sorry ma’am! What seems to be the issue?” Frisk shoved Sans away from the counter,

“Y-yes, well, a-a family came in with nowhere else to stay, so the room this... individual had taken was the last large room we had...” the lady’s voice trembled slightly.

“Oh... So there are no more rooms then...” Frisk slumped.

“No ma’am, we actually do have one room left, but...” the lady looked at Sans.

“But... what?” Frisk pressed, arcing a brow.

Sans growled, “there’s only one bed.” 

[keelywolfe]

FIC: A Pressing Engagement ch3 (Not baon AU)

Summary: Edge has questions. Stretch would pretty much like to avoid the answer.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Fluff and Angst, Dating, Developing Relationship, Humor

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Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge was still waiting patiently for Stretch to pick up the ball of conversation he’d tossed in his direction and since talking was way down on the list of what Stretch actually wanted to do, he let it fall to the ground between them, rolling around loose.

The bedroom was at least a room he knew, even if he wasn’t usually upright when he saw it. The contrast to his own shabby chic was always impressive; there were no balled-up socks on the floor, no collection of dishes waiting with dismal hope for their chance to hit the dishwasher. Not perfect, though, not tonight. The blankets were drawn down and there was a book lying on the bed, a mug sitting on the side table. All clear signs that Edge had probably been settled all cozy into bed, ready to dive into his secret stash of trashy dime novels when he clued into their silent alarm.

Now he was sitting on the bed all but aiming the ring box at Stretch’s head as he picked up the conversation he’d dropped. “I understand you not wanting me to see these, but I’m failing to see why you thought committing a possible felony was the best route to keep it from happening.”

“oh, come on,” Stretch let out a dismal laugh, “seriously? like you would’ve let me root through your car without seeing what it was?” He’d learned a long time ago not to take Edge’s distrust personally, especially since Red was usually higher than he was on Edge’s shit list.

Edge hummed thoughtfully, “True, but what was stopping you from showing me literally anything else? A lucky lighter or one of those atrocious little toys you always have. I would never have known the difference.”

“yeah, that’s actually a pretty good idea,” Stretch groaned, sagging back in his chair, “shame i didn’t get your input earlier.”

“Well,” Edge didn’t open the box again, only twisted it in his hands. “That doesn’t really matter. I have seen them. Stretch?”

That was a hint for him to get talking and, fuck, did he want a cigarette, a little numbing nicotine buffer would go down swell right about now. Stretch went ahead and fumbled out his lighter but left his smokes where they were. He knew better than to try smoking in Edge’s room, adding a sprinkle of annoyance on top of this meal probably wouldn’t end well. Or maybe he should go ahead, he had a feeling this wasn’t going to end his favor, anyway. He thumbed the rasp of his lighter, watched the little spark form. “i don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“Perhaps some insight into what you were thinking would be a good place to start,” Edge leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “We don’t even live together and here you are planning proposals?”

Said like that, it didn’t sound like he was thinking at all, not past the simple fact that when he heard about Alphys and Undyne planning to get hitch, he sort of…wanted that, for himself, and everything that came with it. He’d spent all day thinking about it, letting different scenarios play out in his head where Edge would say yes and maybe kiss him in the park right in front of everyone and then they’d all break into applause because hell, if you’re gonna daydream, do it right.

He’d even talked about it with Blue, a little piggly wiggly before he went whole hog with the shopping, but now that his head was below the clouds, Stretch figured that his bro probably wasn’t an impartial audience. He’d gone starry eyed, literally, yammering about planning weddings and flowers, hell, they’d both gotten swept up in the idea and before he knew it, he had rings and something like a plan to propose. Probably should’ve felt it out sooner to make sure he had a groom before they’d started thinking about receptions. The way this was going, the only thing he was gonna be going home with was his bruises, fuck the rings. He was gonna toss them out the window on the drive.

“all right, i was stupid, is that what you want to hear?” Stretch hunched over, wrapped his arms around himself. His head ached and so did, well, all of him, his reward for spending the evening getting knocked into walls. Worse was the tightness inside his chest, his soul squeezing together disappointment and hurt. “just give me those and let me go home.”

The gentle touch on the back of his skull startled him. Edge’s hand slid down to cup his cheek bone, trying to urge him to look up. “Don’t say that, you aren’t stupid. Stretch, I care about you, you do know that.”

“yeah.” The word came out small and he couldn’t keep the miserable hurt out of it. Cared. Yeah, right.

A soft sigh, then, roughly, “Fine, I love you. I have said it before.”

He had, a couple of times during sex and the more this chat dragged on, the dumber his impulse to buy rings seemed. He’d been blinded by his own hopes and goaded by Blue’s eagerness, thinking he and Edge were on the same page when a quick glance up at Edge’s impatient frown seemed to confirm they weren’t even in the same section of the librarby.

“All right, this isn’t working," Edge announced as he abruptly stood, "all I’m doing is hurting you.” Stretch squawked as Edge scooped him up right out of the chair and for one absurd second, he panickily thought he was about to get tossed out the door.

Instead, Edge settled them both on the bed, leaning against the headboard with Stretch lying back between his spread legs.

Okay, yeah, that helped, a little. Edge was warm and solid behind him, pressing soft kisses to Stretch’s skull as his gloved hands soothed over him. He made a quiet sound of dismay when he found a bruise, probably leftover from Blue attempt at scrubbing him against the garage, and brushed a gentler kiss over it, his breath a soft gust as he said, “All right. Let’s talk about marriage, then.”

Stretch squirmed, but it wasn’t their position bringing the uncomfortable, "why? we already talked about marriage, you were very clear on your opinion.”

“I know what I said, I was there. Now I’d like to talk about Underfell marriage. If I may?”

Then, despite his little announcement, Edge didn’t say anything. His hands moved absently, following the lines of Stretch’s jaw, down the bumps of his vertebrae to toy with the strings on his hoodie. The silence drew out, but Stretch didn’t rush him; the sooner Edge spoke, the less time he’d have to be here in his arms.

“Marriage in Underfell isn’t like here,” Edge said at last. That flatness in his voice was familiar, a relic from his old world; he always sounded like that when he talked about Underfell, like he couldn’t bear to discuss it if he didn’t have his mental shields in place, and Stretch hated himself, a little, for forcing Edge to dredge them up. “Generally, it was only done by royal decree. Asgore would arrange marriages to encourage offspring for his army, without any care for the wishes of the Monsters involved. I know your experience is different, but when I consider marriage, it is not a loving bond, it’s little more than royally sanctioned slavery.”

“I’m not liking the sound of that,” Stretch admitted. A soft puff of amused breath gusted over his cervical vertebrae in a soundless chuckle, that flat coldness fading.

“Neither do I,” Edge agreed, “We were on the surface for some time before I understood the differences here, but even in this world, it seems to be a contrivance that’s easily cast aside in divorce and used mostly for health benefits and to assign a next of kin.” Gloved fingers slipped beneath Stretch’s chin, urging him to look up into Edge’s gaze. “That brings us back here, to our relationship. What we have is entirely by our own consent and our freedom to choose.”

“And that’s fine,” Stretch said, trying to keep the desperation at a minimum, “we can keep doing that.”

Edge shook his head. “I don’t think we can. Because that’s what I want. It’s not fair to you, if you want more.”

Stretch tried to swallow around the sudden lump of his soul rising into his throat, managed to mumble out, “please don’t dump me.”

Not that he’d blame Edge if he did, ill-considered proposals followed by breaking and entering were probably not anywhere on Edge’s list of fun weekday activities.

It was impressive the way Edge managed to fit so much exasperation into an expression that barely changed, “I’m not about to leave you for loving me. If you care to recall, I love you, too,” He leaned in to brush a soft kiss over Stretch’s mouth and that simple, gentle touch wrung most of the aching fears out of the Stretch’s soul, relief surging in to fill the new real estate. He didn’t linger, drawing back to say, “And there were loving bonds in Underfell, they simply weren’t ones of marriage.”

“okay. then what would a loving bond be like?” He had to assume that’s where Edge was leading this, and how the hell did he always managed to be straightforward in such a roundabout way.

Edge hesitated and Stretch wondered at his answer, but what he got was, “Will you wait here until I come back? Please?”

That meant moving so Edge could get up and as much as Stretch wanted to latch on and cling ‘till dawn or joint cramps, that was probably not the multiple choice answer he was looking for. So he went with the first option and reluctantly roll off to let Edge get up. As long as he was going solo on the bed, Stretch took the chance to kick off his shoes, hey, the deeper he got under the covers, the harder it was for Edge to toss him out. Edge didn’t protest when Stretch burrowed into the blankets, only paused at the door and called, “If either of you are out there when I open this door, I will make you regret it.”

There was a muffled thump, the sound of brothers frantically scrambling away.

Typical. “you still got it, babe.”

“That implies I could possibly lose it.” Edge walked on out, closing the door behind him for which Stretch would always be grateful. He couldn’t do much about their brothers’ intense need to meddle, but he didn’t really want their podcast switching to pay-per-view.

Edge wasn’t gone long and when he came back, Stretch couldn’t really figure out why he left in the first place. He didn’t pull Stretch back in for another round of spoons, either, instead sitting cross-legged on top of the blankets.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that each section of the Underground had its own societal quirks,” Edge said, softly. He shifted a little, then again, and Stretch realized abruptly that he was actually fidgeting, seriously, this was a night of strange happenings. “Snowdin was far enough away from New Home to come up with its own way of handling familial bonds. My brother and I assumed them not long after we moved there and I joined the guard.” His gaze moved over Stretch’s face searchingly, “You’re aware that Red wears my collar.”

“yeah, of course,” Stretch said. All of them learned real quick that dog jokes did not go over well with either of the Fell brothers.

Edge nodded. “I believe the trend may have started with the Dog family, but it took hold quickly. Collars are distinctly visible from some distance with little room for protesting about misunderstandings. Red’s collar distinguishes him as being my brother and under my protection in a way that no one can mistake. Children often wore collars that allowed others to easily identify their parents. And—”

He hesitated again, shifted again in that peculiar fidget, then moved his arm. From his sleeve slid a long, plain box and he didn’t hesitate, boldly handing it to Stretch without another word.

The white cardboard revealed nothing and when Stretch cautiously lifted the lid, all his prickling suspicions were confirmed.

A simple collar, plain leather with none of the spikes that poked out threateningly from Red’s.

Hesitantly, Stretch picked it up, draping it over his hand. The leather was buttery soft, a narrow glossy black backlined with a border of rich crimson. The burnished buckle was delicately tooled into the shape of a soul, what Humans always wanted to call a heart. Lovely and simple, subtle instead of blatant. There weren’t many people who’d get the implications here, but as of about ten minutes ago, Stretch was one of them.

“oh,” Stretch said quietly.

“I had it made a few weeks ago,” Edge said hurriedly. He reached over to run his thumb down the length of it, more deep red against black. “Although I will admit, I wasn’t expecting this conversation to come up so soon.” His chuckle was tinging on shrill, holy shit, he was nervous, after everything tonight, how could he be…? “It would be considered a betrothal collar. Not a marriage, but a promise to a certain level of commitment to each other. I’m aware that it isn’t what you were hoping for—”

The words broke off as Stretch flung himself at Edge, kissing him silent, and then not so silent, a groan muffled between their mouths as Stretch straddled him. It shifted to a sound of displeasure as Stretch drew back, but he knew where that road ended and there was something that needed to be done before they hit the delicious trail.

The box and collar had fallen beside them onto the blankets and Stretch picked it up, holding it out as he asked, “can you put it on me?”

Edge rose up on his elbows and took the collar, and the rough way he said, ‘of course,’ almost ended him right back on the bed.

Down, boy, Stretch told himself, tipping his head back to exposing the line of his cervical vertebra. The leather was cool against his bones as it circled them, the buckle cooler still and hardly took a moment for the collar to settle. Stretch looked back down, taking in the deep satisfaction in Edge’s crimson eye lights, swallowing hard at the way they moved over him, lingering on the collar.

Oh, he could feel it when he swallowed and Stretch did it again, just to feel that faint rise and fall.

“does it look okay?” Like he even needed to ask.

In answer, Edge made a hungry sound and lurched up to take his mouth again, abruptly rolling them both until he was on top, his weight was settled between Stretch’s spread femurs, heavy and perfect. He kissed his way lower, down the line of Stretch’s jaw to the collar and Stretch shuddered at the feel of his tongue testing the difference between delicate bone and leather.

A gloved hand starting to work its way beneath the dark hoodie, oh, fuck yes, maybe the game tonight ended on an unexpected score, but they were going into overtime and—

It would probably be pretty rude to shout ‘fuck off’ at the knock on the door. Especially when his brother’s voice followed it.

“Can I please go home now?” Blue asked plaintively. “because I could use a hand, there’s a great deal of, well, road under and around my car, and not in the good way!”

“think we can talk him into sleeping over with red?” Stretch whispered.

“I think that merely assisting in a felony shouldn’t involve cruel and unusual punishment,” Edge said dryly, then called, “Hold on a moment, we’ll be right there.”

With a grimace, he rolled to his feet and Stretch started to follow, wincing as he accidently knelt on something hard, what the hell…he dug through the covers to pull out whatever trap was hidden in Edge’s bed, but what he pulled out was the ring box.

Oh.

It still pinched a little to see it, surrounded by all those deflated daydreams, and Stretch started stuffing it into his pocket, trying to laugh it off, “i’ll give ‘em to blue to toss into my place, see what the return policy is in the morning.”

A light touch on his arm stopped him.

��Don’t,” Edge said quietly.

“but—", and he’d said it before, a wedding ring laying around the house was like having a loaded gun, and Stretch was fast figuring out that neither should go off prematurely.

“Hold on to them,” Edge paused, struggling for words, then asked, pleadingly, “Give me time?” And it was stupid for that to make Stretch soul swell with love and hope and every other damn soft emotion that could cram its way in, but eh, he’d always said he was idiot. Might as well hold the title for it.

Stretch cleared his throat and managed a hoarse, “babe, you can have all the time in the world.” And then it was his turn for kisses, kept them as soft and reassuring as the collar around his throat.

“Thank you,” Edge murmured against his mouth. Then he pulled away with a grudging sigh and headed for the door.

Stretch touched the collar at his throat lightly. A level of commitment, Edge said, and fuck it, may as well go for broke, “you think we could go out on a date this weekend?”

Edge paused with the doorknob in hand, frowning faintly, “We have a standing date every Saturday for movies and dinner.”

“yeah, but.” But that usually included their brothers, along with Sans and Papyrus, and look, Stretch was openminded, but a six-way split was out. “how about something that’s just you and me?”

“Of course,” Edge said, surprised and pleased. “What did you have in mind?”

‘Anything with you’ probably came off as slightly desperate, so Stretch improvised, “let me surprise you.”

Which was code for ‘I have no idea, give me a day to panic and figure things out’. Good thing Edge spoke his language, he only smiled faintly and agreed, “All right.”

A date, Stretch thought giddily, a real date, and maybe proposals were off the table for now, but not for never.

Blue and Red were sitting on the sofa when they came down and Stretch couldn’t see Edge’s face, but he could see Red’s and knew the second he caught sight of the collar. The shifting emotions pouring across his face could’ve been made into a short film for Sundance, but in the end Red only slouched further into the sofa, and if he looked smug, eh, Stretch was feeling charitable, he’d give him that one.

Blue was less happy and followed anxiously behind as Edge led the way out to his car. “What happened?” he hissed.

“i’ll tell you later,” Stretch whispered furiously out of the corner of his mouth and at Blue’s doubtful look, he sighed out, “promise.”

He didn’t miss the way Blue glanced at the collar, but he blessedly didn’t ask. An hour in Red’s company was a good way to make even the stoutest teetotaler beg for a drink and Stretch didn’t want to stand in the way of his brother’s well-deserved hangover. Between the three of them, they got Blue’s car clear of the rubble and off he went, tires squealing and leaving Edge and Stretch standing alone beneath the darkened streetlight.

He missed out on getting the post-engagement kisses of his dreams, but suddenly getting swept up into Edge’s arms on an empty street was a pretty close second.

“Now, where were we?” Edge murmured. He paused with his mouth a breath away from Stretch’s, “Wait. How did you get in the garage?”

“um,” Stretch hedged, because that was sort of one of those secrets he was hoping to take to his grave.

Rescue came from an unexpected source, in the form of a hoarse, cheery voice, “Still up tonight, boys?”

Edge turned, carrying Stretch with him, to see Mrs. Gerson making her slow way down the road. Huh, she’d made it a whole house down since they last saw her.

“Not for much longer,” Edge said, politely, “Good night, Mrs. Gerson.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, carrying Stretch back to the house and yeah, it wasn’t a happily ever after, not yet.

But it was on the right path.

-finis-