#sorry but I have TRIED to like this ending so hard

[17020]

DON'T LEAVE ME, GIRL.

Because brainrot can take people places. This is men from KAIJU NO. 8, BLUE LOCK & WIND BREAKER as Henry Danger memes. These are complete crack headcannons and I'm sorry in advance. Do it 4 the plot!

STARRING . . . Soshiro Hoshina, Gen Narumi (KN8), Yoichi Isagi, Reo Mikage (BLLK), Yamato Endo, Hajime Umemiya (WINBRE). gn reader!

SOSHIRO HOSHINA

The fact of the matter is, Soshiro Hoshina had you MONITORED ever since he realized he had romantic feelings for you. With the excuse of receiving daily reports from platoon leaders about their officers, he only paid any mind to any reports about you.

And he was so obvious about it, that some platoon leaders caught on to what he was doing. Nakanoshima genuinely enjoyed it, as seeing the vice-captain with wide eyes trying to conceal any emotion when you're mentioned was a one-of-a-kind experience.

"Oh, by the way! Officer Ln got hit on by one of my men yesterday."

Nakanoshima tried her best to hold in her laughter while Hoshina choked on his food in the middle of the cafeteria. She could see how his face contorted with disgust, as he anxiously began to play with his food.

"And what does that have to do with the reports?" he sneered. She gave him a knowing look, to which he sighed. He was utterly hopeless, wasn't he? A complete idiot in love. So much of an idiot, that even his subordinates caught wind of what was happening.

"...so, what'd they do about it?"

"They turned him down" she shrugged, "Well, at least that's what I saw. If you want the whole thing, you'd probably have to ask Okonogi. She was there way longer than me."

Hoshina's next stop was the operations room.

"Okonogi, dear, do you happen to have any camera footage of the hallway leading to the cafeteria from yesterday at about 5pm—"

The salute that followed sent a shiver down his spine, as he turned to his side to see you, comfortably sitting in Okonogi's seat.

"Vice-captain Hoshina? Sir, Miss Okonogi is currently on break, and she left me here to help her run through some reports" you smiled sheepishly, "If this is about yesterday, sir, just know that nothing happened with the officer that approached me. I completely apologize."

When you bowed in apology, Hoshina simply grinned as he raised his hand to pat your head. "Ya know I care about my officers, sweetheart, so I jus' wanted to make sure ya weren't being harassed."

"Did—did you just call me sweetheart, sir?"

"That's 30 pushups for ya, Ln."

GEN NARUMI

Being in the First Division was already hard enough with all of the highly skilled officers around you, but having captain Gen Narumi follow you around like a lost puppy? Yeah, you unlocked a new level of hell.

The fact that you had a higher-up on your trail didn't bother you, it was the fact that Narumi himself was insufferable, and if the rumors that other officers came to spill to you were true...

Gen Narumi was head over heels for you, and he took every opportunity he had to show off in front of you.

As much as you hated to admit it, Narumi truly was something else. His ability to slay kaiju was unlike any you had ever seen before, and it was nothing short of admirable. Off the field, though, Narumi was like some annoying influencer trying to sell you their latest product from some pyramid scheme.

His product? Himself.

Whenever he wasn't boasting about himself or trying to show you his social media fame, he was constantly in your messages trying to strike up a conversation. Today was no different, as he slid into your messages asking if you knew about his latest video game records.

NARUMI 17:04 and that's how i ended up winning you should've been there, i was incredible

YOU 17:10 wow yeah that's a shame

NARUMI 17:10 something wrong? you're cold today

YOU 17:20 sorry it's been a hard day today, i'm feeling pretty down

NARUMI 17:21 i know what could cheer you up [1 Attachment]

You could not believe your eyes.

In your phone was a picture of Gen Narumi, holding his phone like a facebook parent, duck lips and all, winking.

You didn't hold it in, laughing hysterically at your screen. Tears were forming from how hard you were laughing, and the messages you received made you drop to your knees.

NARUMI 17:25 i'm outside your office btw WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING???

YOICHI ISAGI

When Isagi accidentally revealed to Kurona and Hiori about his growing crush on you, he settled on keeping your name hidden in public conversations. A part of him thought that, yes, it might be childish, but code names could save his ass from the prying eyes of Blue Lock TV and the press.

He knew you were watching at home, as he constantly texted you about what you saw on your television throughout the week. He’s grateful that there are no cameras in the stratum’s bedrooms, as he mostly spends his time kicking his feet like a schoolgirl whenever he’s chatting with you.

While having lunch with his teammates, the topic of relationships had surged, as there were some which wondered if their teammates had someone waiting for them back home.

“So, Isagi, did you confess to Yn already?”

“Confess! Confess!”

“Huh.”

Isagi’s eye twitched as his teammates slowly stood up from their seats. They looked at each other nervously, and in response, Isagi sighed.

"The code name was apple" he sneered, "if this ends up on Blue Lock TV, you're fucking dead."

Hiori and Kurona were grateful that social media did not rave about Isagi's love life, thus thinking they were safe from any tormenting. Isagi was relieved that his teammates' slip up was kept under wraps, as he wasn't ready to express his feelings just yet.

Luckily for him, Blue Lock TV released a special episode filled with drama and gossip from all teams, and much to his dismay, "APPLE" started trending on Twitter, along with his name, and the phrase "WHO IS YN".

REO MIKAGE

Reo Mikage knew that your job as Bastard Munchen's social media manager meant that he wouldn't see you as much, with him seeing you on award shows, events, or football matches that you both attended as guests.

Every day, he would text you a new reason for you to switch teams and join Manshine City instead. He offered to fly you out, help you with paperworks and your CV—Mikage had everything covered.

Except for your approval.

It was hard to leave a team you grew to be fond of, after almost two years of working there, you learned to love everyone as you would with your own family. After hearing Mikage's pleas day after day, you finally gave him the go ahead to submit your job application.

Which just so happened to fall on the day in which Manshine played against Bastard.

It was a complex match, with your team winning 3-2 against Mikage's. After celebrating with some nice dinner on a rooftop, Isagi had invited you to go around Manchester for some shopping, as he wanted to buy a present for his mother.

Reo Mikage's phone had blown up in a way he had never witnessed before. From his friends, social media, hell—even Nagi was spamming him with messages, sending him a link to an article.

"Yoichi Isagi spotted with mystery person in Cartier for a shopping day! What we know about them so far..."

Reo Mikage had to be forcibly removed from his phone and social media, with his teammates having to hold him back from causing a scene.

Because why on God's beautiful Earth were you shopping with Isagi instead of him?

When he received his phone back, he saw a text from you, explaining how Isagi asked for your help to buy jewelry for his mother's upcoming birthday. He felt himself melt at the thought of your kindness, as according to him, you were doing charity work. Nothing against Isagi's mother, though.

He smiled as he exited your chat and typed out a name, starting a new conversation.

REO 23:11 Listen here you Mr. "I take Yn shopping in Manchester" I swear if I ever see you near them in public again you better pray that you stay in Bastard because do you know who I am I am the heir of Mikage Corp and the amount of power I have would put you to shame because WHO do you think you are first stealing Nagi from me and now Yn you seriously have to have a death wish for that you stupid good for nothing Be grateful that they're leaving your poor little team and joining Manshine soon, so they'll never see you again you punk

YAMATO ENDO

"—and then he told me that if I went to the beach with the girls and that one guy, he'd break up with me on the spot. Can you believe him? We had to pick up trash at the beach for a school project and he said that"

"I can't believe it!" Endo gasped, his hand on your shoulder, "If that were me, I would've never said that. That's a shitty move on his part."

"Annnnd then he had my socials on his phone, and he read the notifications that I received. He got mad because a friend told me they loved me."

Okay, that one he could agree with.

The joy of having Yamato Endo listening to your horrible experiences with your ex was that, at face value, Endo was agreeing with everything you said. Internally, though, he thought different.

The more he heard, the more intrigued he was about your ex. Because Endo Yamato found himself relating to him, and was on the verge of asking you for his number.

"Damn, he was oversteppin' boundaries" he sighed. Snooping every once in a while ain't bad, though, is what he thought. 'Cause what if they're cheating or something, or covering for someone?

He shook his head as he discarded the thought, as neither of those situations could ever apply to you. You went on and on, describing the various ways in which your ex had either pissed you off or straight up did you dirty.

At the end of your rant, Endo slyly pulled out his phone and opened the search tab of his social media.

"Damn Yn that's crazy! Anyway, what was his name again?"

HAJIME UMEMIYA

You knew Hajime Umemiya was too trusting and naive, but you let it slide. When you and him were cuddling on your couch, mindlessly scrolling through his social media, something was off.

His page was filled with Instagram models.

And sure, you wouldn't have any trouble with it, but the fact that there were half naked people clogging your boyfriend's feed, you felt a bit iffy. When asking him about it, he simply laughed.

"Oh, the kids at the orphanage took my phone a while back! Didn't know they followed all these people, though" he smiled.

Well the kids at the orphanage have very good taste, you thought.

When the next week rolled by and Umemiya found himself in a brawl outside of Pothos, you stood in the sidelines next to Kotoha. "Did he do anything about the models?" she asked. When you shook your head in response, she smirked.

"Give me your phone, Yn."

She opened the camera app and pointed it towards the brawl, motioning for you to slide a bit to your left so that you would be in the frame.

"Now say cheese!"

"Hey—what's going on?" Umemiya questioned, before having a punch thrown at his face. Kotoha chuckled in return, her fingers intertwining with yours.

"Don't you see? Yn's modeling. If you need anyone to save you, ask Sommer Ray! We're out of here."

taglist (open, yippee!): @stunie @kaiser1ns @nyxypoo @karasuglazer @littleplantfreak @maruflix @heartkaji

[naturesapphic]

Yk « l’amour de ma vie » by billie can u write a fanfic abt French yn flirting with Billie in French and that’s why the tittle of her song is l’amour de ma vie (bc yn always call billie that and her heart melts every time cuz she finds that really cute) and one of un interviewing billie in French (like the Lena situation interview but in French)

French Interview

Billie eilish x French!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, cussing

Word count: 2,181 😭

A/n: I’m sorry if the translation got some of the words wrong I apologize I tried-

“Hey guys! Today vogue invited me over to interview a very special someone. Billie eilish aka my girlfriend!” I exclaimed as I did jazz hands over to my girlfriend Billie, who sat beside me. She looked over at me and giggled at my goofy jazz hands and face I was doing. “Hiiii everybody. I’m so glad to be back here.” Billie said softly as she waves to everyone and to the cameras.

You smiled big and explained to everyone that you will now be talking in French for most of the interview. “Alors Billie Eilish se blesse parfois ? Que diable?” (So Billie eilish does get hurt sometimes. What the hell?). Billie giggles and gives you a smile as she answers. “Right? It’s interesting to be a person who isn’t an outwardly sensitive complainer. A lot of moments on this album are about situations where I was like, ““I’d rather be tortured inside but have somebody think that I’m cool, than have somebody think that I’m hysterical and actually express my feelings.”” So many songs on this album reflect that realization of, like, “Maybe I’m obsessed with the idea of nonchalance.”” She says and you nod.

“oh ouais, c'est toi, c'est sûr bébé.” (Oh yeah, that’s you for sure baby.). You reply and Billie keeps going on with her answer. “I would rather suffer in silence than tell you something’s bothering me and have you think I’m sensitive.” She says and you roll your eyes playfully. “tu me rappelles un de mes ex-partenaire.” You said while eyeing her down. As soon as the translator translate what you said to her, she gives you a gentle shove that makes you laugh. “Quand nous nous sommes rencontrés pour la première fois, tu avais l'air d'avoir tout compris et tu étais plutôt fermé.” (when we first met, you seemed like you had it all together and kinda closed off).

Billie laughs and grabs one of your hands in hers as she answers. “I come off as a person that doesn’t care. I care about people and I have love and passion, but in relationships, I found myself never ever expressing any of my needs. It was interesting to notice I was doing that, and that’s what these lyrics are about. It’s almost like I resent myself for not advocating for myself, because maybe if I had, things would’ve changed. But I’ve always had an issue with weakness.” She said opening up more and more. “Well I’m glad you are getting better with expressing your needs towards me because you mean a lot to me bils.” You say as you look deep into her eyes. She smiles and waits for your next question.

“En pensant à “Skinny” qui entre dans “Lunch”, cela résume parfaitement l’ambiance du titre, car c’est un peu comme les refroidir puis les réchauffer.” (Thinking about “Skinny” going into “Lunch,” that sums up the vibe of the title perfectly, because it’s kind of like, cool them down and then heat them up.) “That was very purposeful. It’s hard and soft and hard and soft. There’s motifs and melodies that repeat and lyrics that call back to other songs. The songs morph into each other. It was purposeful to have “Skinny” do what it does, and then at the end you hear the drums for “Lunch.” And then “Lunch” comes in and slaps you in the face.” Billie replies and you nod along to her words.

“Vous vous demandez ce que les gens vont dire de la chanson “Lunch”?” (Are you wondering what people are going to say about the song “Lunch”?). “I’m pretty aware of what people will say. It’s so weird to grow up and change in front of the world. The craziest part is discovering things about myself and then suddenly, everyone else knows, and I don’t even have a second to think about how it makes me feel.” She confessed and you felt your heart break for her. “I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.” You say as you start rubbing her knuckles. “It was very frustrating but I wouldn’t have done it without you y/n so thank you love.” Billie said giving you a small but loving smile.

“Je me demandais, quand une de vos relations amoureuses se termine, pensez-vous la laisser avec mille questions ? Ou vous laissent-ils avec mille questions ? Ou est-ce partagé 50-50 ? Est-il plus dangereux de tomber amoureux de vous ? Ou est-il plus dangereux pour vous de tomber amoureux?” (I was wondering, when one of your romantic relationships ends, do you think you leave them with a thousand questions? Or do they leave you with a thousand questions? Or is it split 50-50? Is it more dangerous to fall in love with you? Or is it more dangerous for you to fall in love?) “I don’t even know. I think 50-50 is probably accurate. I literally hate who I am so much when I’m in love.” Billie replied and you let out a loud laugh that made her giggle at you.

“That’s one of the most masculine things you’ve said. Jeez Billie.” You giggle out and she smiles. “But don’t worry baby I love how I am when I’m in love with you.” She confessed and you felt your whole face heat up. “je t'aime, l'amour de ma vie.” (I love you, the love of my life). Billies face heat up and she leans over to give you a little kiss on your cheek. “I love you more angel.” She said. She didn’t even need the translator to tell her what you said because you always say I love you and that pet name to her in French. That’s why she named the song after that petname because she loves when you call her that a lot and it means a lot to her. Billie goes back on track and continues to answer your last question.

“I have a power issue and a control issue, and I also don’t like being vulnerable in a romantic way. It makes me feel uncomfortable, and I don’t know how many times I’ve really been in love. I think there’s different versions of love, and I think that you can be in love and it might not be deep. I’m not going to get too in detail, because I’m going to be rude, but I’ve never been dumped, and also, I’ve never been broken up with. I’ve only done the breaking up.” She confessed and you nod. “Yeah I’ve only done that a few times but I’ve mostly gotten broken up with.” You say and Billie nods. I think when people hear that, they’re like, “Oh, all you do is break hearts.” Sure, but that doesn’t mean that people are totally innocent. It means that I was like, “Oh, let me get the fuck out of here.” Or it means things just weren’t right.” Billie continued on.

“Now some of y’all about to be real mad at me, but I do believe that breaking up with someone versus being broken up with, obviously being broken up with hurts like hell, especially when you don’t see it coming and you wanted a future and it’s taken out of your hands. But honestly, the pain of knowing that you have to end something with somebody that you genuinely love is so horrible.” She confessed and you cocked your head to the side. “Really? I’m not sure if I completely agree but I will agree with how it does stay with you longer if you break up with somebody.” You say and Billie adds on. “I think so, too. And you don’t get to even have the, like, “I got dumped, so fuck you guys. I get to go crazy and have a reaction and be mad at you. And I get to make you into an enemy, because you broke up with me.” You can’t do that. You can’t become a victim.” She points out and you give a surprised look on your face.

“That’s actually very true. You don’t get to feel mad and shit. Wow I never thought of it like that.” You explained and Billie smiles. “Pour changer un peu de sujet, ce que vous dites me fait revenir sur vos premières musiques. Votre approche d’écriture n’est pas comme si elle se prêtait à l’hésitation. Il ne s’agit même pas de peindre quelque chose de sombre sur le plan sonore, mais c’est un peu bleu. En fait, tu utilises beaucoup le mot « bleu » dans cet album”. (To change the topic a bit, what you are saying is giving me flashbacks to your early music. Your writing approach is, it’s not like it lends itself to hesitancy. It’s not even painting something dark sonically, but it’s a little bit blue. You actually use the word “blue” a lot in this album).

“I love that you just pointed that out, and it’s making me think about how I don’t love to point fingers. Sometimes you want to, because you’re mad and you want people to feel for you and you want to feel seen. But I’m not going, “You did this to me.” It’s more, like, “We’re all allowed to feel however we feel based on whatever happened.” Also, it’s not about pointing my finger and blaming people: “And everybody, attack this person, because they hurt me.” It’s like, “I hurt me. And I have hurt me multiple times, and I allow other people to get to that point.” And that’s where I’m trying to draw the boundaries and protect my shadow.” Billie added on and you watched her in awe as she explains how she feels. “Comme il se doit. Et c’est parce que vous n’avez pas pointé du doigt que les gens vont se poser mille questions. Pour revenir au fait d'être toujours amoureux, les seules choses qui sont réelles sont les sentiments.” (As you should. And it’s because you didn’t point fingers that people will have a thousand questions. To go back to ever being in love, the only things that are real are feelings).

“I just had an experience the other day. I had some people over, and there was something happening that involved a lot of sensation and feeling and being in your body. And the person who is guiding me through this thing, I won’t even get into it, because it’s irrelevant to what I’m saying, there was this moment where they were talking about communication and saying, “Just remember to be aware of how you feel.” And I remember saying, “Oh, well, this is making me think of this, and I am feeling this.” I kept describing things. And he said to me, “I appreciate your psychoanalysis of what you’re feeling, but I don’t need you to analyze it. I just need you to feel it.” And that got to me. It made me think. It made me feel.” She explained and you felt your eyes tear up at her words. “I love that. It’s really the scariest thing of all. But for overthinkers, it can be a good practice to just feel and then move by those emotions. So yeah, we don’t need to end with a question, because I think the gift of being with you, whether you’re present or nonchalant or considering whether you’re being nonchalant in this moment, is that your instant impact on a room, even if you don’t say anything, makes people feel a lot. Even my band told me that. When you walked out, they were like, “Damn, she’s good. She makes you feel a lot.” And I was like, “Try sitting next to her when she’s looking into your eyes. It’s crazy.”” You say and Billie looks deep in your eyes as you talk.

“Eh bien, je n’ai plus de questions aujourd’hui mais l’amour de ma vie, j’adore ton album et toutes les chansons qu’il contient. Je suis incroyablement fier de toi et merci de m'avoir permis de t'aimer. Au revoir tout le monde ! Le flux m'a frappé fort et doucement!” (Well I don’t have any more questions today but the love of my life, I absolutely love your album and all of the songs on it. I’m so incredibly proud of you and thank you for letting me love you. Goodbye everyone! Stream hit me hard and soft). You waved bye to everyone and Billie was blowing kisses to the camera and the interview was done. Billie and you went back to y’all’s house and spent the rest of the day there in each others arms.

A/n: holy shit that was a lot. Over two thousand words omg. PLEASE REBLOG, COMMENT, LIKE, SHARE, ANYTHING PLEASE LMAO thank you anon for the request, I hope you love it and I hope the rest of y’all do too. Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all :)

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 3

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce, hurt, angst, anger, crying, sadness, therapy/counseling

I don't condone cheating at all. But I know every marriage and even relationship is different. What one person might do in a situation, another might not do it..... Every time I write something, I'm always writing with the thought of the main goal being OC or in this case 'Y/N' ending up with the man I'm writing about (in this case it's Ghost). So this is going to be angst... but Y/n & Ghost are going to stay together at the end of this little story....

If this upsets you, pisses you off, or you hate it... I'm sorry :( Sort of my first time writing angst like this, so send me the feedback plsssss.

ALSO - I'm not a counselor or therapist, so please note the "session(s)" that Y/n and Ghost attend may not be how therapy actually is supposed to go, but for the sake of the story let's pretend it does.

It was weird. Strange. Confusing.

A few days had passed since you agreed to go to counseling with Simon. You tried not to, but the ghost of a smile that formed on his lips when you said you would go had you feeling so many emotions. You hated yourself for it. You also hated yourself for how you loved that Simon wanted to work on your marriage and himself.

He came home early every day in those past days, even if you two didn't have dinner together. Even if you two hardly talked to each other, he was at home. It was odd. Walking around in your own home trying to ignore him, and it was eating him alive.... and you too.

On more than one occasion, he would sit out on the patio with you, even if you didn't say anything to him. You honestly wanted to talk to him, but that felt too foreign; too prohibited. Couples that were going through divorces couldn't be so domestic, could they?

It wasn't until the night before you went to counseling that your coworker, Ava, begged you to go have a drink after work that you found out if other couples had gone through something similar. You tried your best to avoid her questions, but she read you like an open book, asking what was going on. When you finally broke down in tears and told her everything, she hugged you tightly as any good friend would do. She even told you what she had gone through, and you were shocked to learn about her and her husband's almost divorce story.

Like Simon, he had cheated and it tore Ava apart. While it wasn't the exact same situation, the pain was still the same. But she encouraged you to do what you wanted to do, and that was the difficult part.

"You want to stay wit him don't you?" she asked with a sad smile.

You nodded, "I love him so much. And I know it's so stupid. I'm an idiot. But I don't know if I can... it hurts so much."

She hushed you before more tears fell, "Y/n.... I know it's hard. And I know that other people might say you're crazy if you stay with him... but they're not you. They're not married to Simon. You have to do what you think it's right for your heart........ and if it turns out differently, then it's your life. Not his. Not mine. Not anybody else."

She spoke with so much conviction, you sort of felt happy for a split second. It was what she was told when she was going through those same feelings.

"I just wish he would have told me." You sniffled, looking down at the empty glass on the table in front of you.

She hummed in thought for a moment, "You know what I think you should do?" she asked, making you look up at her again, "Make him realize what he was missing while he was too busy with her."

"Huh?"

She nodded, "Yep. If he couldn't see that you are the only woman he needed, then show him."

Your eyebrows drew together, "How?"

A devilish smirk formed on her lips.

When you arrived on base the next day, you were beyond nervous. The Military Police at the front gate looked at you in confusion when you showed him your ID, but you were too busy trying not to vomit on your clothes. The clothes that you finally decided to put on after debating for over an hour over putting them on or not. Ava's idea of making Simon realize how much you were the only woman he needed was to start showing him how much any other man could and would try to take you from him.

"Your clothes," she told you. "And.... the way you act. It's time to bring out your dark feminine side."

Your what? You hadn't even heard of that before.

It was a stupid idea, but one that would work because while you normally got dressed in your usual casual work attire at first, Ava called you that morning and made sure you wore that outfit she made you buy last night before going home. It was a hassle to hide it from Simon, who was sitting on the couch when you arrived, but you somehow did.

The light and flowy clothes you always wore were switched to a more tight-fitting and sexy outfit while still keeping it chic and appropriate because you still had to go to work afterward. The icing on the cake was when she told you to wear heels; sexy heels. You even wore makeup - mostly to hide the dark circles under your eyes - as you didn't wear it often. And god did it work....

When you got out of your car and walked the short distance to the front doors of the building, several soldiers passed you, not even trying to hide the fact they were staring. Even a soldier who held the door open for you to walk into the building stared, trying to hide his gaze by offering if you needed help finding something or someone.

Simon was sitting, waiting in the lobby - like he texted you a few minutes ago - so you declined the random guy's offer as you looked around for your husband. He stood up before making his way to you when he heard your voice, but he found his feet walking slightly quicker when he saw a man standing in front of you, glancing up and down your figure. When your eyes met his, the corners of your lips turned up slightly, partly because you were nervous, the other part because you had never seen him at work before.

But Simon's eyes cut away and landed immediately on the soldier next to you, and when the guy looked at who he knew as Ghost, he gulped. "Need something, Sergeant?" Simon asked, his voice short and blunt and a tad bit irritated.

The Sergeant shook his quickly, "No sir." He glanced at you then back to lieutenant, "Have a good day.... sir," he quickly said before scurrying down the hallway.

It was funny. Simon used to tell you that he intimidated people, and while you sometimes saw it when you were out in public, you never saw him do it at work. Watching that soldier leave hastily drew a small giggle from your throat before your eyes met your husband's brown orbs once more.

Simon was thankful that when he worked, he wore his hard shell skull-printed mask. It maintained his anonymity both on missions and on base. But in that moment he was even more thankful because it hid his facial expressions as he looked over you, taking in your outfit. Something definitely changed in what you had on. You had never wore work clothes that seemed... sexy and slightly revealing.

"You look beautiful," he sincerely said before he could even process his thoughts. You were going to work... like that?

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked back at him. You heard the way he said it. Like he was trying to figure out how to take in what you had on. "Thank you," you whispered. You glanced down at your wrist to look at your watch, "We should head in."

He gave you a nod, before guiding you down the hallway to the chaplain's office. You tried to ignore the burning feeling in your chest as his hand rested on your back while he walked slightly behind you. Like he was keeping you in his view, but letting you know he was right there with you. He did that all the time so what was so different about it now?

Steading your breathing, Simon came to a stop and informed it was the chaplain's office. You nodded, nervously licking your lips before he turned the handle and allowed you to go in first.

With brief introductions out of the way, you, Simon, and the chaplain - Lt. Jones - sat in his office. You and Simon were on the couch, while he sat in the chair across from you two. It was awkward, and you felt your heart beat rapidly in your chest while Lt. Jones opened his notebook and took out a pen to write.

"Now I know this can't be easy for both of you... but I'd like to start off by telling me how you came to the decision to seek counseling yeah?" He began.

You fidgeted in your seat, briefly glancing at Simon before back at the chaplain, while your husband swallowed the huge lump that formed in his throat. A beat went by, and you almost thought you'd faint from how anxious you were, but Simon spoke up.

"I.... cheated on my wife." He breathed out, and it hurt when you heard the pain in his voice.

Fuck. You weren't even five minutes into the session and your eyes were already tearing up. It hurt more than you wanted it to hear him say it out loud; that he cheated on you. For the past few days, you had been ignoring him because you weren't ready to hear those words from his mouth. But now you had to. You had to if you wanted to get past this.

Lt. Jones wrote something in his notebook, and you and Simon both glanced at his pen moving across the page, "And you two want to work through this yeah?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but Simon spoke before you, "Yes."

However, the chaplain noticed the way you fidgeted once more on the couch and closed your eyes. He glanced at Simon then back to you, "Mrs. Riley?" He asked. The name; your name. Hearing that alone made a tear trickle down your cheek. Simon glanced at you and god did he want to reach out and touch you, but he was afraid you'd yank away from him.

"I-I want to-" Simon couldn't help the tiny smile that began to form on his face, but it dropped when you continued, "-but.... I don't think I can."

"Why is that?" the chaplain asked.

You glanced at Simon, seeing his eyes already locked on you. Even with his mask on you could see the sad expression in his eyes, "Because... I know how this ends."

Both Lt. Jones and Simon looked at you in confusion, Simon more so than the other man.

"What do you mean ma'am?" Jones asked.

You tried to keep the tears in, but talking about your past was never easy to do. You had only briefly talked about it to Simon before and it was very much just saying that your last relationship didn't work out but you never said why. But now..... you didn't want to lie to a chaplain; a priest. So you continued. . .

"I always get hurt. Always-" you glanced down at the floor in thought, "-my last relationship... I was cheated on. The one before that I was cheated on. It doesn't matter." You sniffed, making the chaplain hand you a tissue which you kindly took, "At some point I just have to accept that I don't belong in a relationship, let alone a marriage."

"Y'never told me that," Simon interrupted, his voice soft.

You shrugged, "It doesn't matter... you still would have cheated Simon," he visibly swallowed the lump in his throat, "I get it... I'm not enough. I've never been enough. Not for you. Not for-"

"That's not true." He cut you off. You could hear the frustration in his tone.

The chaplain also heard it and decided it was good to step in, "Lieutenant.. please let her finish. It's good to get feelings out when you want to work through things. Especially something like this."

He sighed, nodding as he glanced back at you. You hadn't even looked up from the spot on the floor before Jones told you to continue. But you knew Simon would interrupt you once more at what you were going to say next. And that made you cry more.

"The only difference between now and the past is that I'm not getting my ass beat," a sour chuckle left your throat.

"What?" Simon asked as his body tensed greatly.

The chaplain even looked at you in a way that was...guarded?

"Mrs. Riley, what do you mean by that?"

You looked up at him, "My last relationship.... when I found out he was cheating, I confronted him about it. And it just resulted in me in the hospital."

Silence.

Nothing was heard as the two men looked at you, eyes wide, even if Lt. Jones tried his best to remain expressionless. Simon, on the other hand, was fuming in his head. Some dick at the audacity to put his hands on you because he got caught cheating? He wanted to find the douchebag and kill him... but you never talked about your ex; never said he hit you - his wife. He didn't care if that was before he met you, he was thinking of all the ways he could find the guy and kill him.

"Is that why you think you can't work past this with your husband now?" You nodded, and Simon couldn't help his words from slipping.

"Y/n I would never hit you-"

You finally looked back at him, "I know that. I know you won't. Still doesn't change the fact that you don't love me anymore."

"I do-"

"Stop it Simon," you pushed.

Thank god for Lt. Jones who was good at his job. He knew the conversation was going to turn into a back-and-forth bickering spree so he stopped you two before it got to that point.

"If you two want this to work through this-" he began, making you two look at him, "-I recommend that you both continuing counseling with me. Let's start off with twice a week yeah? One day will be an individual session, and the other will be together." Simon glanced at you before nodding his head in agreement. A deep frown formed on your face at the feeling that you wanted to continue this. You had to if Simon was going to give you the papers. But you also really wanted to work on your marriage. You sighed before nodding your head, making the chaplain give you both a soft grin. "I know it's not easy. Marriage. But just knowing that you even came in here today, shows me that deep down you want to get past this together."

Lt. Jones eventually dismissed you both with a tiny bit of homework to do before your next session the following week. Emotions were all over the place for you and Simon. While you were busy worrying about the battle between wanting to stay with your husband or leaving, Simon was beating himself up. He had done the one thing that he honestly never thought he would have. He was just like his father, and that thought alone made him want to vomit.

You were almost to the front doors of the building when Simon's gloved hand gently grabbed your wrist, turning you back to look at him. His eyes were on the brink of tearing up, but you knew he wouldn't cry... not at work. He didn't say anything for a moment while he looked at your face, eyes flickering to the quivering of your lip and your redness of your eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" was the first thing he said.

You almost rolled your eyes, but instead you focused on his boots, "Because it's not something I like to talk about. It was a long time ago, and I was stupid to stay with that bastard," you whispered, "But it doesn't matter what happened Simon. Would you have done anything differently if I told you?" Your eyes snapped back up to meet his as you pulled your wrist out of his grip.

He didn't respond. You couldn't see it, but his jaw tensed greatly under his mask. Would he have not cheated? You couldn't be sure... but you also couldn't think about it because a high-pitched voice interrupted your conversation as a woman strolled up next to your husband.

"Ghost..." she said as she looked at him, "I was looking for you earlier. They said you was busy."

Ghost. The way she said his name made your eyes snap towards her as she glanced at you. Simon didn't even acknowledge her for a second, eyes still on you, before he looked at her. His jaw was flexing under his mask so hard he thought he would break his teeth. And by the way her eyes widened at you before she awkwardly looked at your husband, you felt something stir in the pit of your stomach.

You tried to lie to yourself. You really did. But the jealousy swam through your body as you looked at her. It was her; the woman from the video. And by the look on Simon's face when he looked at her in disgust only confirmed it.

"Uh I'll just see you later alright?" she quiet said before quickly walking away down the hall.

The universe was truly against you wasn't it? Out of everything, you didn't expect to actually see the woman in person. The woman who - even in her uniform - was a beauty. You always admired the beauty of women, complimenting a woman when she looked nice or anything. But you hated the way she looked; hated the way the makeup looked on her.... because she was gorgeous. And because she was everything you weren't.

As she walked away, Simon didn't even turn his head to look back at her, his eyes trained on you. But you looked. You leaned your head to the side to watch as she glanced at the two of you before turning a corner down the hall, a slight frown on her face. The anger that bubbled in your chest had you turning on your feet and walking out of the building to your car, making Simon walk after you.

"Sweetheart," he tried calling out to you, but you picked up your pace, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. "Y/n..." he reached out to you again.

You spun on your heel so fast you thought it would break, "It's her, isn't it?" He didn't respond, "Her?!" you raised your voice a little, making him close the gap between you.

"Love please don't do this," he begged, keeping his voice down since you were standing outside.

"Do what?? What I should do and leave?" you felt like you were about to burst with anger.

He grabbed your arms, pulling you into him even further, "No. Please Y/n... Sweetheart, I swear I'm so sorry for hurting you. I wanna make this right."

"How Simon? How can you even make this right?" you choked on a sob that escaped your throat. "I can't do this right now. I need to go to work, Simon."

You pulled away from him, his hands longing for your touch as you walked to your car and got in. Before you pulled off, you hated that your eyes immediately found his and you wanted to punch the window so bad. Instead you steadied your breathing and drove off to work.

Simon watched as you left, fingers flexing as he fought the urge to punch anything that was in his sight. Pvt Williams had just returned from a mission with her unit, and he knew exactly where he was going next as his eyes darkened with intense anger.

Yep. This will officially be a short story I feel like. I have so many ideas running through my head. Working on part 4 currently.

[anna-the-undertaker]

Pick-a-fic prompt:

Newly arrived MC being unable to deal with the Brothers to the point of debating leaving the exchange program and thus running to the relative peace of the castle to step back and reflect (focus on the Royals)

OR

Newly arrived MC being unable to deal with the Brothers to the point of debating leaving the exchange program and thus running to the relative peace of the castle, but the brothers find MC’s diary where their doubts are written as plain as day (focus on the Brothers)

Sorry this took so long to get to, I've just been so busy working, prepping stuff for moving, and I got absorbed in the fic I am working on. I chose the second one and ended up giving it more angst. I hope this is what you were asking for. Enjoy :)

Failure

MC had never felt so small.

From the moment they arrived in the Devildom, they were an outsider—human, fragile, and completely out of place. The brothers tolerated their presence, but only just. Every day was a new challenge, a struggle to keep their head above water in a world so different from their own.

Mammon, their first pact and appointed guardian, never missed an opportunity to remind them of how much of a burden they were. "Oi, don’t just stand there lookin’ useless. If you’re gonna stick around, at least do somethin’ useful, huh?" He’d toss those words at them with a grin, almost like it was a joke, but the sting was real. His careless remarks hit hard, especially when MC was already trying to find their place in this strange world. Mammon didn’t see the damage; to him, they were just another chore to deal with, something that got in the way of his schemes.

Leviathan wasn’t much better. Whenever MC tried to interact with him, they were met with his judgmental stare, as though they were trespassing. "What’s a normie like you doing here? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?" His voice was laced with annoyance, making them feel like some bizarre creature that had wandered into his private world. He kept his distance, never giving MC a chance to show they could connect with him, too. His obsession with his fictional worlds only made them feel even more like an outsider, as though they’d never understand or be worthy of stepping into his life.

Satan? Satan barely acknowledged their existence. If he ever looked up from his books, it was with frustration, as if MC’s very presence disrupted his thoughts. "Can’t you see I’m busy?" he’d say, his voice cold and dismissive. He wasn’t cruel, but his indifference hurt just as much. It was like MC was invisible unless they somehow got in his way.

And Asmodeus—Asmo treated MC like an accessory, something to admire for a moment and then discard when something more interesting caught his eye. "Darling, if you're going to wear something that dull, I really can’t be seen with you." His words were often accompanied by a smile, but the superficiality behind them was clear. He made them feel like an object, like their only worth was tied to their appearance. Even worse, Asmo never seemed to consider how his constant fixation on perfection weighed on MC, making them question their own worth more and more each day.

Beelzebub? He rarely acknowledged MC at all. His focus was always on food, and even when he did notice them, it wasn’t in a way that made them feel seen. "You smell different. Wonder if you’d taste good," he’d say offhandedly, as if it was just a passing thought. He didn’t mean any harm, but hearing those words was unsettling. It made them feel even less like a person and more like some temporary guest who didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

But Lucifer… Lucifer was the hardest to bear. His demands for perfection pressed down on MC like an unbearable weight. He expected them to adapt instantly, to know things they couldn’t possibly know, and when they inevitably made mistakes, the look of disdain in his eyes was enough to crush them. "I need you to be better," he’d say, his voice calm but sharp. MC could never shake the feeling that they were constantly being judged, constantly falling short of his expectations. His false sense of care grated on them the most—he acted like he was guiding them, but to MC, it felt more like control.

Everything was so new, so overwhelming, and no one seemed to care that they were struggling. They couldn’t keep up, and instead of offering help, the brothers’ habits and personalities only deepened their isolation. The teasing, the judgment, the indifference—it was all too much.

So, they ran.

It wasn’t a dramatic escape. They didn’t even pack their bags. They simply left one night, slipping out of the House of Lamentation and making their way to Diavolo’s castle. If anywhere in the Devildom could offer peace, it was there. Leaving behind their diary, a collection of their thoughts, hopes, and fears. They didn’t expect anyone to find it. Writing had been their only outlet, the only way to cope with the growing weight of their struggles.

At first, the brothers didn’t notice their absence. Days passed, and the empty seat at the table went unremarked upon. Only when the small disruptions became too obvious did Mammon speak up.

"Oi, where’s the human? It ain’t like ‘em to just disappear without a word," he grumbled. But even then, his tone was more annoyed than concerned.

Lucifers sharp gaze swept the hallways, his mind turning over the details of MC’s sudden absence. He’d been busy—too busy, really. Between managing his brothers and fulfilling his duties, MC had slipped from his radar, and now… now he realized he hadn’t checked in on them in days.

It wasn’t until Satan, searching for a book, came across MC’s diary tucked away in a corner of their room that the truth was revealed.

Satan made his way to the eldests office, frowning as he thumbed through the pages. "Lucifer, you should see this."

Lucifer took the diary, reading in silence as his eyes traced the words MC had written. The others were called, and soon they all knew what MC had been feeling.

The entries were raw, filled with MC’s doubts and pain. Each brother’s name was scrawled across the pages, followed by confessions of how their words and actions had hurt.

“Mammon makes me feel like I’m nothing but a burden. Every time he calls me useless, it’s like he’s confirming something I’ve already been afraid of. I’m just in the way here.”

“Levi never sees me as more than a ‘normie.’ It’s like I’m some strange animal in his eyes, something he doesn’t want to understand. He shuts me out every time I try to get closer.”

“Satan barely notices I exist. And when he does, it’s always with that look… like I’m a problem he doesn’t want to deal with. I guess I am a problem.”

“Asmo’s always commenting on how I look. I know it’s not personal, but it feels like all I am to him is an object. A pretty thing to dress up, but never good enough to really matter.”

“Beel doesn’t seem to care one way or another. He’s so focused on his hunger that I don’t think he even notices when I’m around. When he does, it’s just another reminder that I don’t really belong here.”

“Lucifer… I don’t know how to describe it. He expects so much from me. Too much. He looks at me like I’m failing him, like I’m not worth the time it takes to help. His care feels false. I can’t keep up with his demands, and I don’t think he even realizes how much I’m struggling just to stay afloat.”

And then came the final entry.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore. Everything is too much. The brothers… they don’t care about me. I’m just another responsibility to them, one they didn’t ask for. I’m seriously thinking about leaving the exchange program. Maybe I should. Maybe I’m not strong enough for this.”

The brothers were silent and exchanged glances, the weight of the words sinking in. They just hadn’t realized how much their habits, their personalities, had affected MC. Mammon’s constant jabs, Levi’s distant hostility, Asmo’s superficial comments, Satan’s cold indifference, Beel’s lack of attention… all of it had chipped away at MC’s sense of self, until they felt like they didn’t matter.

Lucifer closed the diary, his jaw tight. "I didn’t know they felt this way," he said, his voice low.

Mammon shifted uncomfortably. "I didn’t mean it like that. I thought we were just messin’ around."

Levi rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn’t think they cared what I thought. I mean, I barely even know them."

Satan’s frown deepened. "We’ve all been too focused on ourselves."

Asmo’s eyes were wide with guilt. "I didn’t realize… I just thought they were shy. Or adjusting." He looked down, his usual confidence gone.

Beel said nothing, his expression a mix of regret and confusion. He hadn’t even noticed how much MC had been struggling, too wrapped up in his own needs to see theirs.

"We need to bring them back," Lucifer said finally, his voice firm.

At the castle, the brothers had expected to find MC sulking, perhaps still angry or hurt. They had come, armed with apologies and, for once, a united front. Lucifer led them, the weight of the diary heavy in his hands. It felt strange, unsettling even, to think they had been so blind to MC's struggles. They had planned to convince MC to stay, to promise things would be different this time.

But when they arrived, the castle was eerily quiet. Barbatos greeted them at the entrance, his face impassive, but his eyes held a hint of something… regretful.

"Where is MC?" Lucifer asked, his voice tight.

Barbatos looked at the group for a moment before lowering his gaze. "You’re too late."

"What'dya mean, 'too late?'" Mammon blurted, stepping forward, his usual confidence replaced with a flicker of panic.

Barbatos sighed softly, his tone unusually firm. "MC has already returned to the human world. They made the request to Lord Diavolo, and it has been granted."

The weight of his words sank in, and the brothers stood in stunned silence. Lucifer, for once, had no immediate response. Mammon’s shoulders slumped, and Levi's hands fidgeted nervously at his sides. Asmo’s mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out, while Beel’s expression darkened in quiet contemplation. Satan clenched his fists, the anger rising, though not directed at anyone but themselves.

"Why?" Levi muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Because," Diavolo’s voice echoed through the hall as he approached them, his expression serious, "they didn’t believe things would change. MC had been struggling for some time, and none of you noticed. They felt abandoned. They were overwhelmed, and by the time you realized, it was already too late."

The silence was suffocating as the future King of the Devildom regarded them with a mixture of disappointment and anger.

"You failed," Diavolo’s voice echoed through the room, each word a sharp blade. "You were given one task—one simple requirement as part of this exchange program. To make MC feel welcome. To make them feel as if they belonged. To get to know them and have them know you in return. To foster understanding."

The brothers stood in a line, shoulders hunched, guilt pressing down on them like a heavy weight. None of them dared to speak.

Diavolo’s gaze shifted to Lucifer, his disappointment palpable. "And you," he said, his voice soft but laced with reprimand, "I expected better of you."

Lucifer flinched at the words. His usual mask of calm confidence shattered under the weight of Diavolo’s gaze. For a moment, he felt utterly powerless, a sensation he had long fought to suppress.

"You let this happen under your watch. You let MC suffer to the point where they felt they had no choice but to leave the Devildom behind entirely." Diavolo’s words were like a hammer, each one driving the guilt deeper. "You let them slip through your fingers."

Mammon, Levi, Asmo, Beel, and Satan could do nothing but hang their heads in shame, their usual bickering and antics gone, replaced by the crushing realization of how badly they had failed. This wasn’t just about MC’s disappearance—it was about everything they had overlooked, every word they hadn’t said, every opportunity to make things right that they had ignored.

Diavolo took a breath, his tone softening slightly but still firm. "You were supposed to protect them. Instead, you pushed them away."

The silence was heavy, unbearable. None of them could meet Diavolo’s gaze.

"You will return to the House of Lamentation and reflect on what has happened here today," Diavolo said, his voice a final command. "I hope, for all our sakes, that this failure teaches you something."

With those parting words, Diavolo turned his back to them, and the brothers were left with nothing but the weight of their failure pressing down on their shoulders.

They sulked back to the House of Lamentation, each one lost in their own thoughts, their usual banter replaced with a somber silence. They had been too late. MC was gone.

Lucifer

Lucifer sat in his study, the heavy silence of the House of Lamentation pressing down on him. The others had retreated to their rooms, each of them nursing their own guilt, but Lucifer remained still, staring at the open diary on his desk. MC’s words were a stark reminder of his failure—his failure to see, his failure to act, his failure to protect. The very thing he prided himself on—his ability to maintain control, to ensure perfection in everything under his watch—had crumbled in the worst possible way.

Failure.

The word echoed in his mind, gnawing at him like a relentless force. Lucifer's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as his anger rose, burning in his chest. How could he have allowed this to happen? How could he, of all people, have been so blind? He had always maintained order, ensured everything ran smoothly. He had taken on every responsibility, every burden, to prevent things from falling apart. But this...this was a disaster.

It was intolerable.

The weight of Diavolo’s words still hung heavy in the air: I expected better of you. The sting of those words cut deeper than any reprimand he had ever received. Diavolo had placed his trust in him, and he had let him down. Worse, he had let MC down—an innocent, fragile human who had come to the Devildom trusting they would be safe, that they would find a place here.

Lucifer stood abruptly, shoving his chair back with a force that sent it crashing against the wall. His usually composed demeanor shattered as the rage he had been holding back erupted. He slammed his fists down onto the desk, the sound echoing through the room. Papers scattered, and the sharp crack of wood under pressure reverberated through the air.

How had he missed it? How had he, with all his precision and attention to detail, been so oblivious to MC’s suffering? His grip on control, his obsession with perfection, had blinded him to what was truly important. He had been so focused on maintaining order, on keeping his brothers in line, that he hadn’t even noticed the cracks forming right in front of him.

And now, it was too late.

MC was gone—back to the human world. They hadn’t even waited to see if things would change, if the brothers would make things right. They had made their decision, and it was a resounding statement of just how much Lucifer had failed them.

His chest tightened with frustration. He had been so focused on pushing MC to adapt, to fit the mold he thought they needed to fill, that he had ignored the reality of their struggles. He had looked at them through a lens of expectation rather than understanding, and now they were lost to him. To them all.

Lucifer closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to reign in the storm of anger and guilt coursing through him. This failure—the bitter taste of it—was unacceptable. He couldn’t undo what had been done. He couldn’t change the fact that he had let Diavolo down, that he had let MC down.

But he could make sure it never happened again.

Slowly, Lucifer opened his eyes, the flames of anger still burning but now tempered by a cold resolve. He would not allow this to break him. He would not allow this failure to define him. He had to remain strong—not just for himself, but for Diavolo, for the Devildom, and for his brothers.

But deep down, the rage simmered, a constant reminder of his imperfection, his weakness. He had been shown the one thing he hated most: his own limits.

Failure.

It was something Lucifer would never forget. And never forgive. Not himself, and not the others.

Mammon

Mammon sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, his hands tangled in his hair. The silence in the House of Lamentation was deafening, pressing down on him in a way that made his chest feel tight. MC was gone—back to the human world. They hadn’t even said goodbye.

His first instinct had been to brush it off, like he always did. Make some flippant comment about how MC would be back soon enough, that they just needed a little time to cool off. But as the hours passed and reality settled in, the truth was undeniable.

MC wasn’t coming back.

"Dammit..." Mammon muttered under his breath, his fingers tightening around his hair as if that could stop the thoughts running wild in his head.

He replayed the last few weeks in his mind—the constant teasing, the jabs, the way he’d brush off their efforts with a casual, "Oi, don’t be so useless." He never meant it. Not really. It was just how he talked, right? But now… Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about how it must’ve sounded to them.

How it must’ve felt.

He always thought MC knew he didn’t mean anything by it. They were just words, stupid little insults thrown out without thinking. It wasn’t like he actually thought they were useless. Hell, he was actually starting to like them—though he’d never admit it out loud.

Mammon groaned, flopping back onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling. Why did he always do this? Why did he push away the people he cared about, acting like they were some kind of nuisance when they weren’t? It was just… easier that way. It was easier to hide behind the tough guy act, to pretend like nothing bothered him. But it wasn’t true. It had never been true.

And now it was too late.

"I didn’t mean it," he whispered, his voice breaking in the quiet room. "I didn’t mean any of it..."

But what good did that do now? They were gone. MC was gone, and it was his fault.

Mammon’s heart clenched as he thought about all the times he’d made fun of them, all the times he’d called them a burden, a hassle. He’d acted like MC was just some human getting in the way of his plans, but the truth was that they had become more important to him than he’d realized.

He didn’t show it—he didn’t know how—but they mattered to him. They made him feel different, like he wasn’t just the "Great Mammon," the greedy demon who was always causing trouble. When MC looked at him, it felt like they saw something more, something better. And now? They were gone because of him.

Mammon kicked his legs out in frustration, his shoes thudding against the floor. How could he have been so stupid? Why did he always have to mess things up? He had the chance to make MC feel welcome, to make them feel like they belonged here, and he blew it.

And Diavolo’s words kept ringing in his ears. You failed them.

"Yeah, I know!" Mammon snapped at the empty room, his voice harsh with guilt. "I know I screwed up! I get it!"

He sat up suddenly, running his hands down his face in frustration. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be their protector, their guardian. They were his pact holder, he was their first. He was supposed to look out for them, not drive them away. He hated that feeling—the helplessness that came with realizing he couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t just throw money at it or charm his way out like he usually did.

MC was gone, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Mammon stood up, pacing his room. His mind raced, thinking of what he could’ve said or done differently. Maybe if he’d just told them how he really felt, if he’d stopped pushing them away and acting like they were a bother… Maybe they wouldn’t have left.

"I should’ve been better," he muttered, clenching his fists. "I should’ve told ‘em… I should’ve made ‘em feel like they mattered."

But he hadn’t. And now he was stuck with the gnawing regret that he might never see MC again. They were back in the human world, and they’d never want to come back to the Devildom, especially not after how he and the others had treated them.

He was the Great Mammon, sure. But what good was that title if he couldn’t even keep the one person who actually made him feel like he was more than just his sin?

With a choked sob, Mammon collapsed back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling as the tears began to fall.

He’d failed them. There was no getting around that. And the worst part? He’d never get the chance to make it right.

Leviathan

Leviathan sat in front of his monitors, eyes staring blankly at the paused screen of his latest game. His headphones sat around his neck, the usual buzz of online matches long forgotten. The quiet of his room wasn’t the kind he liked. It wasn’t peaceful or calming. It was suffocating.

MC was gone. Back to the human world. They had left without saying anything, without a word, without… him knowing. He hadn’t even noticed they were gone until the others started talking about it. And now that they weren’t here, the reality of the situation was starting to sink in.

Levi chewed on his thumbnail, anxiety swirling in his gut like an endless whirlpool. How could he have missed it? How could he not have seen what was happening right under his nose? His stomach churned with guilt as he thought about the way he’d treated MC since the moment they arrived.

Normie.

That was what he called them. Over and over again. He’d pushed them away, called them a nuisance, acted like they didn’t belong. He had no idea if they liked anime or games, but instead of giving them a chance to show they could understand his world, he had shut them out before they could even try. Why? Because they weren’t like him. Because they weren’t part of his world. Because it was easier to call them a "normie" and keep them at arm’s length than it was to let someone else get close.

Levi groaned, burying his face in his hands. He hated himself. Why did he always do this? Why did he always ruin things before they had a chance to be good? He had been scared—scared that MC would judge him like everyone else did, scared that they would see how awkward, how pathetic he really was. So he kept them away, treated them like some kind of animal when really… he had wanted them to be a part of his life.

They had tried. He could see it now, in hindsight. MC had tried to talk to him, had tried to get to know him, had actually listened to him when he'd rant. And what had he done? He’d dismissed them. Pushed them away. Called them human or normie—never their name—as if that was the only thing they could be.

He swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at his insides. If only he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own insecurities, maybe things would have been different. Maybe MC wouldn’t have left.

But they did.

Levi curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest as the realization settled in. They were gone, and it was his fault. His fault for being too afraid to let them in, too scared to admit that maybe he wanted them around more than he’d ever let on. He hadn’t even realized how much he missed them until now, until the space they used to occupy in the house, in his life, felt empty.

And Diavolo’s words kept ringing in his ears. You failed them.

"Of course I did," Levi muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. "I always fail."

He had failed to be a good brother, failed to be a friend, and now, he had failed MC.

"They must think I hate them," Levi whispered, his chest tightening painfully. "They probably think I never wanted them around." His voice cracked, and he quickly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, but it didn’t stop the tears that threatened to fall.

Because that wasn’t true. It had never been true.

Levi wanted them around—he had liked having them around. But how could they have known that when all he ever did was push them away, call them a normie, and act like they didn’t matter? He had been too caught up in his own head, too worried about them seeing the worst parts of him, to let them see the good.

Now they were back in the human world, far away from him, and he had no idea if they would ever come back. And if they did, why would they want to come back to him? The shut-in otaku who made them feel like they didn’t belong?

"Stupid," he muttered angrily, wiping his eyes again. "I’m so stupid…"

He stood up suddenly, pacing the room, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. What if MC never came back? What if they decided to stay in the human world forever, away from all the pain and rejection the Devildom had offered them?

Levi’s heart pounded in his chest, panic rising as the what-ifs piled up in his mind. They were gone. And he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to tell them the truth, that he wanted them here, that he—needed them here.

But now it was too late.

With a deep, shaky breath, Levi sank into his tub, curling up again as his anxiety wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket.

It was always too late for him.

Satan

Satan sat in the library, the silence around him sharp and oppressive. The book in his hands remained unopened, his mind too preoccupied to focus on anything but the gnawing feeling of guilt twisting in his chest. MC had left. Gone back to the human world without so much as a word, without waiting for anything to change.

He ran a hand through his hair, jaw clenched tightly as Diavolo’s admonishment replayed in his head. You failed them. The words stung more than he expected, not because they were untrue, but because they were painfully accurate. He had failed them. They all had. And now the damage was done.

Satan wasn’t like Lucifer. He didn’t thrive on control or perfection, but failure still left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially when it was something that could have been prevented. He prided himself on understanding things—on reading people, situations, emotions. And yet, somehow, he had missed what was right in front of him.

I barely even acknowledged them, he thought bitterly, eyes narrowing as the realization sank deeper. When MC first arrived, they were just another part of the exchange program—an obligation. Someone he was forced to tolerate. He had never thought of them as more than that.

They had tried to speak to him on several occasions, asking questions, trying to understand the world around them. He had dismissed them each time. Not out of cruelty, but out of indifference. There were always more important things to focus on, more pressing matters in his mind. Books to read, knowledge to gather. What did it matter if a fragile human was feeling out of place? He’d barely given them a second thought, and now that they were gone, that indifference was coming back to haunt him.

Satan drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. He wasn’t angry at MC—not at all. He was angry at himself. He should have seen it. He should have recognized the signs. But instead, he’d brushed them off, barely looking up from his books when they entered the room. It was no wonder they had felt invisible. To him, they had been.

"How could I have been so blind?" he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the edges of his book.

His dismissive attitude had hurt them, but it wasn’t just the indifference—it was the frustration. The few times he had acknowledged MC, it had been with impatience. He’d grown annoyed when they asked questions, irritated when they didn’t immediately grasp the complex information he threw at them. He had expected too much from them. Expected them to just understand a world they’d only just entered.

I was unfair.

The admission grated on him, but it was the truth. He hadn’t given them the time or attention they needed. He had treated them like a distraction, like an inconvenience. And for what? Because they weren’t like him? Because they didn’t understand things as quickly as he wanted them to?

It was absurd. It was… disappointing. In himself.

Satan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his temples, trying to keep the anger in check. His temper was always there, simmering just beneath the surface, but this was different. This wasn’t the kind of anger he could lash out at. It wasn’t something he could destroy or control. This was guilt—a slow, burning guilt that twisted in his gut and left him feeling powerless.

I failed them, he thought again, the words echoing in his mind like a relentless chant.

They had left because of him. Because of the way he treated them, the way he ignored their presence. The diary had made it clear—MC felt like they didn’t belong, like they were a burden. And he had done nothing to change that.

He had let them slip away. And now they were back in the human world, far beyond his reach.

Satan stood up abruptly, pacing the library with sharp, determined steps. He hated this feeling—this powerlessness. He wasn’t like Lucifer, obsessed with perfection, but he wasn’t one to accept failure either. Yet here he was, unable to fix the mess he had helped create.

He stopped in front of a bookshelf, his hand hovering over the spines of the books. Usually, the smell of old pages and the promise of knowledge would calm him, would ground him. But now? It just felt hollow.

Books couldn’t solve this.

Knowledge couldn’t solve this.

For once, all the intellect in the world meant nothing. He had failed MC not because he lacked understanding, but because he hadn’t cared enough to try.

He closed his eyes, frustration boiling in his chest. "I should’ve done better," he whispered, his voice low and filled with regret. "I should’ve listened."

But it was too late. They were gone. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

For someone who prided himself on knowing so much, Satan realized now that he had understood so little. And that knowledge—more than anything else—cut deeper than any reprimand Diavolo could have given him.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus sat in front of his vanity, staring at his reflection. Normally, he would be admiring the flawless way his skin glowed, the way his hair framed his face perfectly, or how his latest outfit highlighted every one of his best features. But today, the usual spark wasn’t there.

MC was gone. They had left the Devildom and returned to the human world, and they hadn’t even said goodbye.

Asmo frowned, twisting a lock of hair around his finger as he glanced down at the collection of beauty products scattered across his vanity. How could they have left like that? Without saying anything to him? No farewell? No goodbye hug? They had just… disappeared.

And they didn’t even tell me?

That part stung. He was Asmodeus, after all. Everyone loved him. Why wouldn’t they want to talk to him, to tell him what was going on in their head before leaving? It wasn’t like he had been mean to them—he’d been nothing but fabulous! He’d complimented them, given them fashion tips, even helped them choose outfits when they were looking drab.

He huffed and crossed his arms, his eyes flicking back to the mirror. "I don’t understand," he murmured to himself, inspecting his perfectly manicured nails. "They could’ve at least told me if something was wrong."

But as he thought about it, something uncomfortable started to settle in his chest. He hadn’t exactly treated MC like someone who mattered, had he? They were just the new human, someone for him to toy with, to dress up like a doll, to show off. He had treated them more like an accessory than a person. Every compliment he gave was followed by a backhanded comment about how they could do better, how they could look more fabulous. He had made everything about their appearance—about how they looked, what they wore—without ever thinking about what they wanted, how they felt.

And that diary entry… the one about him.

“Asmo’s always commenting on how I look. I know it’s not personal, but it feels like all I am to him is an object. A pretty thing to dress up, but never good enough to really matter.”

Asmo’s heart clenched uncomfortably as those words echoed in his mind. They hadn’t been meant for him to read, but now that he had, he couldn’t stop thinking about them. MC thought they didn’t matter. That they weren’t enough for him.

That wasn’t true! He had thought they were cute from the start. Sure, they had a long way to go in terms of style and confidence, but he had liked being around them. In his own way, he had enjoyed their presence. He just… never said it. Never showed it beyond superficial praise.

Had he really made them feel like that? Like they were just some toy to be discarded when something more interesting came along?

He bit his lip, eyes dropping from the mirror. "I didn’t mean to make them feel that way," he whispered, a strange knot of guilt tightening in his chest. "I just wanted them to look their best, to be their best."

But that wasn’t really the point, was it? MC hadn’t needed someone to tell them how to dress or how to look. They had needed someone to tell them they belonged, someone to make them feel like they were important beyond appearances.

Asmo sighed, sitting back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. He hated this feeling—this heavy, nagging sense of regret. It wasn’t like him. He was Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust, the most beautiful being in the Devildom. People flocked to him for advice, for attention. Everyone loved him. So why did it matter so much that one human didn’t?

Because it wasn’t just any human. It was MC.

They had trusted him. They had spent time with him, laughed at his jokes, let him play with their hair and help them pick outfits. And what had he done? He’d brushed them off like they were just another pretty face, like they weren’t worth getting to know beyond the surface.

And now they were gone. And it was his fault.

Asmo twirled a ring on his finger absentmindedly, the usual sparkle of his jewelry doing nothing to lift his mood. "They probably think I never cared about them," he muttered, his voice soft. "And maybe I didn’t… at least, not the way they needed me to."

He hated admitting it, but it was true. He had cared more about how they looked than how they felt. He had been so focused on making them into something he could be proud of that he hadn’t stopped to think about what they needed.

And now they were back in the human world, thinking they were never good enough for him. Thinking they didn’t matter.

For the first time in a long time, Asmo wasn’t thinking about himself. He wasn’t thinking about how he looked or what outfit he’d wear tomorrow. He was thinking about MC—about how he had hurt them without even realizing it. And that guilt, that realization, clung to him like a weight he couldn’t shake.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the vanity and burying his face in his hands.

But it was too late now. MC was gone. And all the beauty in the world couldn’t change that.

Beelzebub

Beel sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the plate in front of him. His usual appetite was gone, a strange hollowness taking its place. The silence felt heavier than usual, and for the first time in a long while, food couldn’t fill the emptiness inside him.

MC was gone. They had returned to the human world. And he hadn't even cared that they had disappeared.

He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing as the thought settled in. He hadn’t paid much attention to them, hadn’t really thought about them as anything more than a human—something fragile, something that he wasn’t supposed to eat. They were just there, part of the exchange program, someone to tolerate but not worth focusing on.

Beel sighed, glancing at the uneaten food on his plate. It didn’t make sense to him. Why did it feel like something was missing now that they were gone? He hadn’t been particularly close to them. He’d never really taken much interest in what they did or said. They were just… human. And humans were something he didn’t think about much, aside from the occasional urge to eat one. But even that wasn’t really a problem. He knew better.

But still, the fact that they were gone—it didn’t sit right with him.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he thought back to the few interactions they’d had. Whenever he saw them, he’d mostly been focused on food. Sometimes he’d make offhand comments about how they smelled different, or how they might taste good, but that was just the hunger talking. He didn’t mean it personally. He had never meant to make them feel uncomfortable.

But maybe he had.

“Beel doesn’t seem to care one way or another. He’s so focused on his hunger that I don’t think he even notices when I’m around. When he does, it’s just another reminder that I don’t really belong here.”

He frowned, the knot in his stomach tightening. They were right. He hadn’t cared one way or the other. To him, they were just another face in the Devildom, another human who wasn’t supposed to be eaten. He’d never gone out of his way to talk to them or get to know them.

He hadn’t thought they mattered.

But maybe they did.

Beel sighed again, his large hands resting on the table as he stared at his empty plate. He hadn’t done anything to make them feel welcome, hadn’t shown any interest in them beyond his usual blunt, hunger-driven remarks. To him, MC had just been part of the background, something he didn’t need to think about.

But now they were gone. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he had missed something important.

He had seen how the others treated MC—the teasing from Mammon, the indifference from Satan, the distance from Levi. He had heard the way Lucifer demanded more from them, how Asmo insulted them under the guise of advice. Beel hadn’t said much, hadn’t gotten involved, but he hadn’t done anything to stop it either. And now that he thought about it, that made him just as guilty as the rest of them.

"They must’ve felt so alone," Beel muttered to himself, his brow furrowing. "And I didn’t do anything to help."

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much now. Maybe it was because MC had been part of their lives for a while, and now that they were gone, there was a strange emptiness where they used to be. He hadn’t realized how much he had gotten used to seeing them around, hearing their voice, watching them navigate the chaos of the House of Lamentation.

But now that they were gone, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

Beel stood up, pacing the room slowly. He wasn’t like Lucifer or Satan, always thinking things through, always analyzing the situation. He didn’t think too deeply about the people around him most of the time. But now? Now he wished he had paid more attention. Maybe if he had, MC wouldn’t have felt so isolated, so invisible.

"They were more than just a human," he muttered, a pang of guilt hitting him. "But I never treated them like they were."

He hadn’t thought they mattered, and that was his biggest mistake. MC had been a part of their world, even if they were human. They had been right there, trying to find their place, and Beel had done nothing. He hadn’t meant to hurt them, hadn’t meant to make them feel like they didn’t belong—but his indifference had done that anyway.

And now, it was too late.

Beel stopped pacing, leaning against the wall and staring down at the floor. He didn’t know what to do with this feeling. It wasn’t like hunger—he couldn’t just eat something and make it go away. This was different. It was guilt, and it was heavy.

"I should’ve cared more," he whispered, his voice quiet in the empty room. "I should’ve made sure they knew they were welcome."

But they hadn’t known. And now they were back in the human world, far away from all of them.

Beel clenched his fists, frustration welling up inside him. He hated that they had left feeling like they didn’t matter. He hated that he hadn’t done anything to make them stay.

But what could he do now?

[silverzoomies]

Angels

peter maximoff x reader

warnings: peter being a goober, he watches porn for like half a second, it's highkey a stranger things crossover, my dialogue is goofy as hell

word count: 5,240

a/n: had a lot of fun with this one !! a while back, my buddy @quickandsilvers (now deactivated, and i can't find their new acc) requested a fic where he works in a video store and makes a fool of himself. i think i strayed from their prompt a lot, but i hope they don't mind. sorry about the stranger things crossover !! it happened naturally while writing it, and i couldn't stop thinking about steve and peter interacting. lol

Like a responsible adult, Peter spent the span of an entire month “studying” for his GED final. His rapid fire attention span made focusing a tough feat, even past his years of high school age hyperactivity. Which was the very reason he had to study so friggin hard for his GED in the first place. Peter never graduated high school. And because he never graduated high school, he didn’t really know what real studying was. “Studying” for him mostly entailed speed reading, once or twice over. Before he called it quits and bolted away to do…Peter stuff.

He was honestly really proud of himself for sticking it out, though. Much to his mother’s most pleasant surprise. Peter carried a perfect attendance streak through all his classes. A wildly stark contrast to his self proclaimed, unmatched ditch streak back in high school. In hindsight, that wasn’t something worth boasting about.

But all his hard work and bonafide effort proved supremely disappointing…when he flunked the final anyway.

Peter’s chest ached, as though someone tore his heart out, stomped on it, then double tapped for good measure. In a fit of unbridled frustration, Peter raced across the entire planet to burn out his rage. His blood boiled hot in his veins. After circling the globe about a gajillion times, he finally skidded to a stop. Somewhere in Indiana.

His clothes were all tattered and covered in holes. Burned from supersonic force. The soles of his favorite shoes turned to ash, crying smoke like a bonfire. Painful blisters littered his feet. But in his defeated haze, he couldn’t find the energy to care. Barefoot and blistered, Peter walked to the nearest payphone, his head tipped back in shame.

He could only imagine how devastated his mom would be.

It broke Peter’s heart, knowing he’d have to call her and ruin her day. After she promised to take him and his sisters out for a celebratory dinner. All you can eat Chinese! - she said. Being on the receiving end of bad news was one thing. But delivering said news to one’s mother - after an entire lifetime spent letting her down? That sucked unimaginably more.

At the payphone - after tossing his desecrated shoes in the trash - Peter hesitantly brought the handset to his ear. Deep breath in. Now, breathe out. He leaned against the glass of the phone booth. Over the line, his mother’s voice lost all liveliness. And a moment later, Wanda took over instead, sounding majorly peeved off. She threw all kinds of accusations at him - Did you even try, Piet? I thought you were taking this seriously! You said you studied! You totally dashed mom’s hopes!

Peter rolled his finger through one of the holes in his Queen shirt. Mannnn. Friggin sucks. He got that one from the totally sick Hot Space Tour. He even took Wanda with him, and they had the most righteous time. With her so disappointed on the phone like this, it hurt to recall any fond memories. Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried cracking a half-assed joke to lighten the mood.

“Soooooo…no Chinese tonight then?”

Yeah, nah. Sis didn’t take to that one too well. Peter hated arguing with her, but the two spat back and forth for about five minutes. Peter bumped his head against the glass as his stress ran up to mach ten. Gathering whatever patience he had left - a microscopic amount, at this point - he apologized, told his sister he loved her, and hung up. Once he stepped outside of the phone booth, he heaved a long groan.

Peter’s fingers twitched at his sides. Taking a quick glance upward, he noticed a nearby video store. A Family Video, nestled in a strip mall next to an arcade. Narrowing his eyes, Peter chewed his lip in contemplation.

And he made a supremely stupid move.

A millenia passed since Peter gave into his klepto compulsions. Maybe old habits die hard, as they say.

At the Hawkins PD, the chief lingered nearby in a rickety, metal chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The night seemed to drag for eons, as Peter paced barefoot in restless circles…within the confines of a lonesome jail cell. Since Hawkins was such a small town, hardly any of the feds were familiar with the X-Men. Mutants were a rare commodity. They sooner thought Peter was a hobo the chief picked up off the street.

Come next morning, Peter got an earful from Chuck. Thankfully, the generous prof forgave Peter for his colossal fuck-ups. He even paid Peter’s bail. And while the speedster felt even more sick with guilt because of it; he was grateful he wouldn’t have to spend another second in nowhere town Indiana.

Tormentous boredom aside; for some reason, the place gave Peter the creeps.

Falling victim to his own compulsions proved a major setback on all fronts. After Chuck chewed Peter out over the phone, he broke even more bad news. Apparently, the Family Video manager made a major stink about Peter’s thievery. Even called in a complaint to Xavier’s school. The guy went so far as to blame mutants for their “dishonesty.” A completely baseless generalization. All because of some dumb knucklehead’s reckless behavior.

Chuck convinced the asshole to let Peter off the hook. Only if the speedster made up for it by working a summer’s job at Family Video. A short-term punishment. At least until Autumn, when Peter got another shot at his GED. The professor basically grounded Peter from X-Men stuff. Awesome. Heck, technically, he grounded him from the mansion altogether. Cool beans. Thumbs up. Hunky dory.

Hell no. Peter was an adult. Not a teenager who needed to be disciplined after disobeying papa’s orders. He didn’t even really have a papa. In fact, papa disappeared off the face of the planet just a few years back.

Peter digressed. Whatever, right? Grown men messed up all the time. So what if he made a few minor missteps on the road to personal development?

And he would’ve argued these points, had something in Chuck’s honest voice not guilted him into silence.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wear a stupid vest or anything.

The sweltering hot month of June.

Quicksilver should be out kicking ass, causing trouble, stealing hearts (playing video games, tampering with tech, being a total nerd).

Instead, he found himself leaning on the counter of a Family Video register in Indiana.

Peter had never worked an everyman’s retail job in his life. And holy smokes, was it slow. The days ran slower than a sloth in cement shoes. At any given moment, Peter swore he was nanoseconds away from dying of boredom. Literally. Call him melodramatic, but the monotony of day-to-day living sucked the speedy soul out of him. Only a few weeks passed since he “joined the Family Video team.” But all he ever did was idle behind the counter like a chud, gorging on snacks and watching MTV.

Whenever the news reported another X-Men victory, achieved without the help of the team’s one and only speedster; Peter felt the urge to run around the globe again. All he wanted was to shake off his temperament until his legs gave out. But alas. His feet stayed planted on freshly mopped linoleum, in the confines of VHS rental hell.

On the flip side, at least his new shoes were still intact.

Peter spent his days doing mind-numbing activities like reorganizing shelves, sorting movies by genre, and mopping floors. Playing with the label maker was kinda fun. Totally not even a little boring. Nope. Peter never daydreamed some psycho might rob the place, just so he’d have an excuse to be Quicksilver again.

Why would he? When he could play with that sweet label maker.

Yawn.

Thankfully, he wasn’t completely alone. Not that he minded much either way. Solitude and Peter went together like Han Solo and Chewy. But another guy worked the same shift as Peter. Some dude named Steve, with great hair and a metric fuckton of pins all over his vest. He swore up and down, his friend Robin insisted he cover himself head to toe in them. Because something something “chicks totally dig a guy with accessories.”

Peter never met Robin, since her hours were all jacked up. But judging by the Rainbow Brite, Care Bear, and Garbage Pail Kids pins all over Steve’s vest; Peter knew she had to be pulling her pal’s leg.

Which…alright. Cool. He could respect that.

Steve was a decent enough guy and super chill to talk to. He got along great with the group of hellions who always came in, looking for nerdy flicks like Clash of the Titans. Peter once spent a whole afternoon debating Star Wars logistics with them; arguing whether or not Ewoks had any justifiable place in Return of the Jedi. But, come on, those fuzzballs were kinda cool.

And Peter refused to admit he had a few Ewok figures in his collection back in Westchester.

Neither Steve, nor his munchkins seemed to have any qualms about mutants. The only thing he ever bitched about was Peter’s effortless ability to stay in tip-top shape.

“It’s so bullshit, man.” He blatantly complained, “You can pig out on Twinkies all day and still look like that. What does your metabolism run on? Jet fuel?”

Peter’s beady eyes darted swiftly back and forth, across the pages of Lord of the Rings. One of Steve’s little minions gave the speedster a used copy. Worn at the edges. Barely held together by the spine. Peter hadn’t read a real book by choice since middle school. As he skimmed through it at a remarkable pace, he spoke through a creamy bite of Twinkie.

“Flux Capacitor.”

Shame. Sucks for Steve. The dude was obviously good looking. But he somehow fumbled his attempts at flirting with cute chicks. Not to mention, his opportunities came so few and far in between, with Peter there to steal the show. And while some small-town ladies had a tendency to scrunch their noses and sneer at the presence of a mutant - others recognized him as a hero. One of the X-Men. On the rare chance a cutie walked in with her besties following along; they sometimes whispered amongst each other.

"Isn’t he with the X-Men?” “Oh my god, he is!” “Which one is he?” “I think he’s the fast one.” “How fast is he though?” “Oh, he’s, like, so mega fast. Like a speeding bullet on legs.” “Whoa. He’s kinda cute.” “What do you think his calves look like?” “I like his hair.” “What’s he doing here in Hawkins?” “Do you think he’s undercover?” “He looks so ripped.”

Chewing his gum and secretly listening in, Peter cheesed a grin from ear to ear like a doofus. And he soon fell into a shameless habit, letting awestruck girls cop a feel of real, superhero muscles and speedster calves. Hard as vibranium, vascular like Commodore 64 wiring.

What?? Give him a break! Back in Westchester, girls never gave him a second glance.

The endless quiet and steady pace of everyday living drove Peter up a freaking wall after a while. A month in, he felt himself going stir crazy. Peter continuously thought about zipping out for a quick run. One whole second tops. Just to make a break for a slushie at the gas station down the street. Steve even swore he wouldn’t rat Peter out if he bailed and came back. Cuz, like, seriously…who would notice?

But in the back of his mind somewhere, Peter heard Chuck’s voice. A guilty reminder to slow his roll. Stop and smell the roses. The speedster had his impulses, sure. But he wasn’t so weak willed. Peter knew, deep in his heart, he could do better. Hell, he was better. A true master of self control. No problem-o.

Except…he totally wasn’t.

Hand to god, Peter was, and would always be a colossal jackass.

He affirmed this brutally honest fact with himself the first time he met you.

That night, the store seemed like a barren ghost town. Not a customer in sight. Most of the town’s locals were out having fun at a traveling carnival. Steve even took the day off to chaperone his hobbit posse. He stopped by just to give Peter his pin-covered vest, and left his esteemed colleague to stew in his own boredom. Wasting away behind the counter, restless as ever; Peter dreamed of carnival funnel cake.

And why not sneak away for a quick sec? Just to grab himself something sweet. He liked to think he earned it.

Peter zipped to the carnival, paid for some funnel cake, tied Steve’s shoelaces together, and returned to the store in a flash. Leaning comfortably back on a metal stool; he stuffed his gullet with fried delights. Sweet, doughy goodness. Powdered sugar coated his fingers and dusted the corners of his mouth. Peter kept his legs hiked up, dirty sneakers crossed on the countertop. Whatevs. He’d wipe ‘em down before he closed up shop in two hours.

His lidded eyes gaped lazily at one of theTVs hanging from the ceiling. Peter shamelessly watched a wildly inappropriate porno. A filthy flick he snatched from the restricted section and popped in. Partly out of boredom. Mostly out of morbid curiosity. Angels of Passion. Peter sat through an hour of hilariously raunchy scenes - all featuring steamy, angel hanky panky. Talk about divine intervention. He snickered to himself as heat pooled in his cheeks.

A blonde bombshell gyrated her hips in some dude’s lap, rolling her bush, bouncing to the beat of a catchy, unidentifiable song. Her explicit moans echoed lewdly over that earworm of a tune. Jesus, she was really going for it. Looked like she, uh…liked it, actually. Blood in Peter’s cheeks rushed south at warp speed. He felt a familiar tightening in his groin. With funnel cake crammed between his powdery lips, he adjusted himself in his jeans. Smearing powdered sugar carelessly over his crotch.

And he nearly choked to death when a voice he didn’t recognize called his name.

“Wow. Quicksilver? Is that you? Whatcha watchin?”

Oh. Oh, it wasn’t just his name name. But his hero name. Peter whipped his head around, his dark eyes widening as he met yours. Brows raised. Gazing humorously at him as though he were a bozo. Just his luck. A random customer - a very cute customer - picked the most optimal time to walk in. And there he was, the X-Men’s famous speedster; covered in powdered sugar, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk, Care Bear and Rainbow Brite pins all over his vest, a stiffy in his jeans, a nasty porno playing in the background.

What a huge lamebrain, you probably thought.

Peter blinked, and so did you. Time seemed to stretch in a long, awkward moment. Someone should honestly just shoot him and be done with it. From his perspective, an hour passed before he got his shit together. But from your perspective, he was there in a second. Leaning casually over the counter on his elbow, his other hand on his hip. The TV blared reruns of MTV music videos, with Madonna singin’ loud. The very same TV you caught him watching dirty movies on - just for the hell of it. Purely for entertainment’s sake, mind you.

And bizarrely enough, your expression held no judgment.

Furrowing his mercury brows, Peter wiped the last trace of powdered sugar from his lips. He cleared his throat and gave you a careless nod of his head. Stay cool. Stay collected. It wasn’t like his mom caught him with his pants down or something. He put on his best customer service smile. A grin so fake, his dimples vanished into hiding. Time to get the ball rolling before he lost whatever dignity he had left.

Peter hated Indiana. Like, really hated it.

He spoke fast, the words tumbling past his lips at the speed of light.

“That?Thatwasnothing.” Peter blurted out, his mouth running a hundred miles an hour. His fingers tapped anxiously on the countertop. Your curious gaze flicked down to them, before looking into his coke-brown eyes again. His face erupted in flames as he kept rambling, punctuating each sentence with an uneasy laugh, “I wasn’t watching anything. Just some lame religious documentary. Y’know. A real snore fest. I swear, I was this close to takin’ a nap.”

You laughed.

No lie, he wasn’t expecting you to laugh like that. The sound sliced through the tension in the air, catching him off guard. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His forced smile curled up involuntarily, revealing his dimples for real this time.

“Yeah? Huh. For some lame documentary, you looked pretty into it. I’m surprised you heard me at all.”

“Eh, you’re not wrong. Puts a whole new meaning to goin’ heels to Jesus, doesn’t it?”

You let out another laugh, and your voice cracked. Blush creeped over your face from the neck up. A surge of shyness overtook Peter. Running a hand up through his hair, he searched for any words to say. And then he remembered he had a job to do.

“Anyway. Sorry. Can I help you with something?” Peter smoothed out his (Steve’s) vest, brushing powdered sugar from it like pesky snow.

“No biggie, dude. Just wondering where your horror section is.”

Peter arched his brow, “Horror, huh?”

With a cheeky smirk, he disappeared, leaving a swift gust of wind in his wake. You gasped a small peep. Pressing your hands to the counter, you leaned forward as though you were looking for him. He took the opportunity to admire your ass from where he stood between the aisles. Politely, of course.

“They’re over here.” The speedster called from his spot, keeping himself nonchalantly propped against a stand of horror mags. Your gaze flitted down to the Walkman hanging at his hip. His easy going stance made you laugh yet again - man, you made him feel like the king of comedy. You made your way to the horror section. Peter kept his eyes on you while you glanced over the tapes, “You lookin’ for anything in particular, orrrrr…”

“Nope, just looking.”

“Just looking. Got it.” Peter clicked his tongue, nodding, “Cool. Well, if you need any recs…I mean, I’m kind of a movie aficionado, so…”

“Oh, you are, are you?”

Aw, you actually humored him.

“Pfffbbt. Yeah. My twin sis is, like, super into sitcoms and stuff. But I’m the movie guy of the family.”

“And what kinda movies do you like?”

Peter didn’t miss a beat, “Star Wars, definitely. But I like Bladerunner too. ET. Robocop. Alien. Oh! Rocky’s awesome too. Scarface. I can do a crazy good Tony Montana impression. Clint Eastwood movies are cool. Conan the Barbarian. Can’t get enough of Arnold. And I’m not sayin’ Flash Gordon’s my favorite, but-”

You gaped at Peter like you saw him get hit by a car or something. He stopped himself short, pausing as he named off movies on his fingers.

“What? Not a fan?”

“Not a fan of wh-”

“Flash Gordon?”

“Is that what you said? I didn’t understand a single word of that, dude!”

Oh. Guess he got a little too amped up. The apples of Peter’s cheeks turned pink. Scratching the back of his neck, he sheepishly laughed.

“Sorry, uh…lemme start over…I like Star Wars.”

“So do I! I love Star Wa-”

Peter raised his head, fixing you with a squinty eyed, analytical look - mostly playful. He quickly cut you off again.

“What about Ewoks?”

“They’re like little teddy bears! What’s not to love?”

Points for you, cute, mystery babe.

“Oh, bitchin’. Yeah, uh-”

And like a huge doofus, Peter leaned a little too hard against the magazine stand. It tumbled to the floor as he knocked it over unintentionally. Catching himself, he flashed his teeth in a humiliated smile.

“Uh…I totally meant for that to happen.” He clarified.

Even though you laughed yet again - and sounded so, unfairly cute too - Peter vanished to the restroom to smack himself in the face a few times. Returning only to clean up the fallen magazines. Another microsecond later, he appeared behind the counter. At the register again. His summer hellscape. Purgatory.

And for now, after making such an ass of himself, he’d leave you be. Let you come to him.

You eventually did.

“Just these.” You muttered bashfully, sliding a few tapes across the counter.

Peter glanced up to look at you every few beats. Tapping away at the keypad, his agile fingers danced across the keys with finesse. And despite the speed at which he normally worked, there was an unmistakable lag in his movements. Almost deliberate. He took special care as he typed your information and logged your rentals. It was as if he prolonged the interaction on purpose, drawing out everything at a leisurely pace.

Very unlike Quicksilver.

You eyed the pins all over his (Steve's) vest.

"Nice pins." You said.

"Thanks. Care Bears are the shit."

You held back another giggle, covering your mouth to conceal it.

“Say, uhm…forgive me if I’m being too nosy. But what are you doing all the way out here in Indiana, Quicksil-” You paused, tilting your head innocently to the side. Your eyes squinted into thin slits as you read his nametag, “Peeeter? Peter, yeah.”

Peter flashed a lazy, cat-like grin, snapping his fingers and throwing a finger gun your way.

“Bingo, you got it. But, yeah, everyone else calls me Quicksilver. Except for the oldies who have no clue who I am. It’s insane being recognized sometimes. Cuz I’m just a glorified track-and-field star who ended up a wage monkey, I guess. The job sucks ass, honestly.” He chuckled, leaning against the counter, resting his weight on an elbow, “As for what I’m doin’ here? It’s top secret X-Men business.”

“Ooooh! What, like…some kinda covert op-”

“Covert operation? Yeeeeeaaaaaahhh…nah, I’m totally messin’. Let’s just say I got into some trouble and this is my punishment.” Peter chuckled softly, glancing at the films you picked out. His eyes widened as he scanned the titles, letting out a low whistle, “H’oooh. Some pretty gritty stuff here. These are brutal. Blood, guts, limbs flyin’ all over the place. You tryin’ to give yourself nightmares?”

“Eh, it’s all fake anyway. Just cheesy, dumb fun.” You giggled, taking the horror flicks from him. A jolt of electricity shot through him as your fingers brushed his own. The contact was brief, but it left a flutter in his stomach he couldn’t shake. Parting your pretty lips, you teased, “They’re way more interesting than any lame, religious documentaries.”

Peter raised a brow and gave you a bemused look, your playful comment catching him by surprise. He crossed his strong arms, restlessly tapping his finger against his bicep.

“Mhm. But that “documentary” had some pretty hot angels, not gonna lie.” He joked. Peter smirked, his eyes flickering up and down, giving you a quick once-over. He snapped his fingers again, keeping his tone casual, “Hey, speaking of, are you gonna be wingin’ it back to the pearly gates anytime soon? Or are you stickin’ around for a while?”

Aha! So, you weren’t immune to his natural charm. Your eyes shot open, your blush sending a righteous wave of satisfaction buzzing through him. Peter pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and wiggled his brows. His confidence soared beyond the stars. Shrugging off any remnants of awkwardness, he eased himself back into a state of carelessness. You broke into another cute giggle fit.

You scratched the back of your neck, looking bashfully down at your shoes.

“Nice save. I think that one actually made me blush.”

Peter blinked laxly, drawing out a satisfied hum. 

“Oh, yeah, it did for sure. Looks cute on you. What can I say? I aim to please.”

A warm smile graced his face as he slid you the last tape.

“Flash Gordon?” He asked.

If you blushed any more, you’d probably explode.

“I couldn’t keep up with the way you were talking…but you mentioned that one. You said it was one of your favorites, right?”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat.

The banter between the two of you seemed to flow so naturally. Time lost all meaning. And as the minutes passed and you said your goodbyes, moving towards the doors; Peter’s foot tapped at a frenzied pace. A powerful urge to chase after you swarmed him like a pack of angry bees. He knew he wouldn’t be staying in Indiana for much longer. Only a month more, at the most. But, man…there was something about you.

Ah, screw it. Act now, face the consequences later.

A fwip, and Peter materialized before you at the doors. You stumbled back and erupted in another surprised squeal. His hands instinctively reached out, grabbing your shoulders to steady you before you fell.

“Sorry! Sorry. Uh, any chance you’d wanna stick around for a while longer? It’s just so dead here tonight. We could kick it back, chill, and hang. And fingers crossed, I promise I won’t make you watch any weird, religious docs or nothin’.”

Miraculously, you agreed. Peter couldn’t believe his luck. And he spent the remaining few minutes of his shift, along with the rest of that night, hanging out with some cutie he met on a whim.

Maybe Robin was right. It was the vest, wasn't it? Chicks were totally into guys with accessories.

The impossibly hotter month of July.

Some might call Peter a little irresponsible. And true to form, he was. But you were legit the most fun thing to happen to him in months. Up there with the bitchin’ funnel cake he swiped from the carnival, the same night he met you. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. Both you, and the funnel cake.

Carpe diem or whatever.

In the cramped shadows of a video store supply closet, Peter pulled you oh-so-close against his body. Hot as hellfire. His heartbeat ran on bubbly fumes of anticipation. Peter’s chapped lips confidently claimed yours, a moment after you gave him a bashful peck and confessed the cutest thing ever-

“Pleaaaase don’t go back to Westchester!! I really really like you. I think you totally rock. I’m gonna miss you too much if you leave.”

D’awww. You were all soft on him. Your pouty lips and innocent eyes made his chest warm and tingly. Peter never imagined someone could win him over so easily. But after the front doors chimed, and you walked into the store wearing a Grace Under Pressure shirt - of which you told him you wore only because he got you into Rush; Peter thought he heard wedding bells. But, oh…wait. No. The doors chimed again.

Peter felt his resolve instantly weaken around you. Whatever aloof front of speedster confidence he held onto seemed to melt away. Mostly. Partially.

In the closet, he grinned into the kiss, tasting your giggles on his tongue as he coaxed you into something deeper. You were such an undeniable sweetheart. A ray of sunshine, casting light on the most boring summer of his life. Clinging bashfully to his intense kisses, you followed the motion of his tongue. Your own tongue raveled delicate threads with his. Overzealous, he tangled those threads in frantic knots. Peter breathed the softest groan, running strong hands down your back and just above-

Passionate rock songs rang out love ballad riffs in his head, and the music halted to a disappointing stop when - all at once, a veil of blinding light washed over you both. Moment ruined. What asshole would even dare? You pulled away from his kiss, but an eager Peter chased your lips. He only stopped himself once he noticed a figure looming in the closet doorway. Steve looked unamused, holding a broom and dustpan in hand.

“Can I help you?” Peter sarcastically quipped.

“Really, man? Really?” Steve scoffed, cheeks pinkening. Clearing his throat, his dark eyes shifted. Away from the couple getting a little too cozy. He stated in a matter-of-fact way, “FYI, you’re still on the clock, yanno? Jesus.”

“Jesus? I’m flattered, Harrington, but you can just call me Peter.”

A soft snicker erupted from your swollen lips. Your small hands curled shamefully into Peter’s work vest, narrowly avoiding the band pins stuck in the fabric. Ultimately, you failed to keep your giggles at bay. Peter always had a way of making you laugh til you cried. His own hands rested just above your booty, a centimeter away from some spicy grab action. Damn you, Steve. Damn you. Teasing an indignant sigh, Peter reached out to lazily snag the door handle.

“Ever heard of knocking?” He joked before easing the door closed, sealing your cute chuckles inside.

The icy cold, freeze-your-balls-off month of January. Post New Years.

Bundled up in a warm, turtleneck sweater and matching, black jeans; Peter cozied up next to you on the sofa. At his mom’s place, Wanda was perched comfortably on the floor. She kept her back against the foot of the couch close to Peter. In one of the loveseats, Lorna sat with her legs tucked under her. A blanket draped over her small frame. The faint hum of infomercials in the background went ignored, as Peter fell into a long winded info dump about the Lord of the Rings.

Peter’s mother padded into the room from the kitchen. A hand-made shawl covered her shoulders, knitted by Wanda and given to Magda as a gift. Carrying several glass bottle sodas, she passed one out to each of her kids before delivering the last one to you. Magda breathed a chuckle. She noticed the way you narrowed your eyes, as you struggled to follow Peter’s speedy rambling. His family seemed to have no problem keeping up. They understood every word, without asking him to stop and reiterate.

Lorna rolled her eyes affectionately. Wanda gazed up at her brother like he held all the secrets of the universe - and she wanted the details on every single one.

When Peter’s rambling eventually ceased, his mother asked him if he had any plans for the future. He poked inside his empty box of chow mein with a pair of chopsticks. A bit embarrassed, Peter grinned. Now that he finally scored his GED - he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He just hadn’t told anyone aside from Wanda yet. She patted Peter on the knee. A gesture of encouragement, pushing him to open up. With a timid sigh, he confessed - he wanted to teach at Xavier’s.

He got a big ol’ hug from mom for that one.

When she left for work, Peter snuggled up on the couch with you and his sisters. You were all crammed in like warm penguins on a chilly night. Until Peter randomly pushed himself out of the pile. He stumbled forward, checking his watch. Waving his soda in your face, he winked.

“Babe, hold this for me? I almost forgot I wanted to do something.”

Before you could ask, he zipped away and returned in a nanosecond. Peter threw himself into the cuddle puddle.

“Where’d you even go?” You asked, scooting aside to give him more room.

Peter snatched his soda and shrugged, lazily smirking.

“Dropped by Family Video. Tied Steve’s shoelaces together.”

[lost-in-fandoms]

seven words: max w stubble burn on inner thighs

Hello friend, I'm sorry this took so long, the weekend was....that.

cw: explicit sexual content. obviously.

It had come up, once.

Daniel had been in the bathroom, carefully shaving, trying to see on the fogged up mirror, Max just coming out of the shower, wet and flushed, carelessly wrapping a towel around his hips.

"Why do you do that?" Max had asked, coming closer to press his warm chest against Daniel's naked back, hooking his chin on top of Daniel's shoulder, dangerously close to Daniel's still foamed up cheek.

"Do what?" Daniel had nudged him back a little, not wanting to accidentally cut him but not wanting him to let go either, trying to meet Max's eyes in the mirror and only getting a blurred version of them back.

"Shave," Max had said, kissing Daniel's shoulder, hips grinding slightly against him even though he wasn't hard, from what Daniel could tell through the towel.

"You shave too," Daniel had pointed out, nudging him again to be able to tilt his head back to get his jaw better.

Max had just waved a hand, as if Daniel was being stupid on purpose, and had then touched his wrist, stopping his movement and taking the razor from him. He had turned him around, pushing him against the sink, and cupped his neck with a hand, holding him still.

"You can't see in the mirror and are making a mess," he had said, steady and casual, a complete opposite from Daniel's heartbeat, racing in his chest.

"What do you mean, about my shaving?" he had asked after a moment, trying to distract himself from the feeling of Max's fingertips on his skin, his hips keeping Daniel in place.

For a long moment, Max had kept quiet, focusing on Daniel's face.

"I cannot grow a good one, that's why I shave it. And I would not look good in it, I think," he had finally said, glaring at Daniel when he had tried to speak to refute that last point, making him stay still. "But you take care of it, so I do not understand why you keep shaving it."

Daniel had frown, receiving one more look for it, and then had asked: "do you not like it?", which had gained him another. Honestly, how did Max want him to answer questions if he couldn't move?

"You are of course always very handsome, Daniel," Max had rolled his eyes, carefully going over an area Daniel was pretty sure he had already shaved. It had been unclear if it was to prolong the process or because Daniel had missed a spot.

The full answer, obviously, had been too complicated to be put into the right amount of words that wouldn't have ended up with a razor cut on his cheek, so he had deflected instead.

"I do it for you, baby," he had said, using a pause in the shaving in which Max had been rinsing off the razor to throw him a grin, "wouldn't want to give you beard burn."

He had been expecting Max to joke back, or to roll his eyes at him, but Max had averted his eyes instead, a blush creeping suspiciously onto his cheeks.

It had made Daniel raise an eyebrow, suddenly delighted with this new information.

"Unless you like it?" he had prodded, unable to stop his smile from growing.

Max had just blushed more, slapping his shoulder and grabbing his jaw a touch harder than necessary.

"Shut up," he had grumbled, more of a yes than if he had actually said it, "or I'll leave you like this."

Daniel had wanted to tease him more, but he hadn't known how real the threat was, and he had decided to be safe, not wanting to have to walk around with just half a shaved face.

--

No matter what happens in the rest of his life, both on and off track, Daniel is sure he'll never stop feeling lucky knowing he's the only one who gets to have Max like this.

Max, sweating and writhing under him, chest flushed and warm, cheeks a mess of spit and tears, mouth open and drooling. Max, spilling moans, whimpers and pleas on the pillow like a rosary, pearls stringing Daniel's arousal along.

Max, trying to push closer and twist away at the same time, oversensitive and overwhelmed, while Daniel holds him still, both hands clutching the meat of his ass, red imprints on pale skin, as he licks a long, wet stripe from his hole to his balls.

From his position between Max's legs, most of the skin Daniel can see is flushed red. His dick, red and heavy despite Max having come once already, his back, red and shiny with sweat, his ass and thighs, red and raw from Daniel's beard.

He nips at the top of Max's thigh, right over a mark he had left earlier, and Max's whole body shakes as he yelps, hands slipping uselessly on the sheets looking for something to hold onto, even Daniel's name reduced to nothing more than a slurred mess on his tongue.

Daniel licks another stripe back up, purposefully dragging his beard on Max's ass. He would almost feel bad about it if he didn't know how much Max likes it, despite complaining about it the day after, when Daniel has to rub lotion into the irritated skin. If he didn't feel the way Max's thighs shake, didn't hear the way Max's moans go high and breathy.

He doesn't give him a break before shifting his grip on Max's cheeks, putting two fingers back in his hole, tongue tucked between them. Max screams, pushing back and then immediately away, forcing Daniel to wrap his arm around his waist to hold his hips up.

He feels so lucky.

His whole face feels sticky with spit and lube when he pulls back again, watching Max's hole fluttering around the newfound emptiness, leaving Max whimpering. His dick has been so hard for so long Daniel is half worried it will fall off if he doesn't do something about it soon.

He slips a condom on as Max begs for him, impatiently shifting on the bed, so far gone he's moaning even now that Daniel is barely touching him.

He knows it won't take long for either of them to come, but it doesn't matter, not when Max feels so good around him, not when they're both so worked up.

"Bath?" Daniel asks afterwards, drawing circles on Max's back as their breathing slows down.

Max is still pink, heartbeat fast under Daniel's hands, slumped boneless and sated against his chest. He hums, not even opening his eyes, and there's something like pride swirling in Daniel's stomach at the knowledge that he was the one who made him like this.

He trails one hand down further, gently touching Max's ass where his skin is red and raw, making him shudder.

"I'll shave tomorrow," he says, ignoring Max's displeased grumble, "and I'll make sure to use plenty of that lotion you like."

Max grumbles again, rubbing his cheek against Daniel's skin like a cat, sleepy and satisfied.

"You better," he says, sounding more than half asleep already, as if all of this hadn't been his idea anyway.

[mustainegf]

Hi, Elena! I need some hurt/comfort bittersweet story with Kirk (any era). He tells his girlfriend about his tough childhood with a crazy father, and the reader comforts him in a sweet manner 🥺

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐃 ¹⁹⁹⁰

That summer was thick with heat to our heads like a wool blanket. Even with the windows open, the small cabin we had rented on the outskirts of Mill Valley felt like an oven. Kirk sprawled all over the leather couch, shirtless, his dark hair curled at his damp forehead. I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the cool stone at the fireplace, with a half glass of wine in my hand.

We hadn't been together very long, only a year, but it felt like forever. We were comfortable together. We didn't talk much about his life on the road. He was Kirk Hammett, after all. The Kirk Hammett. Lead guitarist for Metallica. But all of it went away when it was just him and me.

He'd been quiet that night, quieter than usual. I could tell something was chewing at him, but I didn't push. I just watched him, the way his fingers strummed the air, searching for comfort of the guitar. Finally, he turned in my general direction, his eyes blacker than the dark night coming through the windows into the room.

"You want to know why I never talk about my dad?" he murmured lowly.

This made me nod, he'd said it so suddenly that I knew he must've been thinking about it for a while. I set my glass on the table and moved to sit closer on the sofa, letting my leg fall against his. He didn't pull away as he turned to me.

"He was a mean son of a bitch," Kirk began, his voice rough, like gravel scraping the bottom of a shoe. "He'd beat the shit out of my mom, and me too if he was drunk enough. I was just a kid, but I remember every goddamn moment..."

I stayed silent, letting him talk, my mouth going dry as I imagined his childhood. He never opened up like this before. I reached out, and my fingers found his. He grabbed onto my hand tight.

"There was this one time," he continued, his voice full of the memory, "My 16th birthday... He came home late, drunk as hell, and just went at my mom. I can still hear her crying, begging him to stop." A hint of the crack in his voice, I squeezed his hand tighter, for him to continue. "I just… I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped on him to pull him off her. He turned around and hit me so hard I..."

Kirk stopped, and his eyes dove into mine for anything I could offer. I felt stinging tears in my eyes, not only for him, but for the little boy he'd been, for the one who had grown up too soon in a house of fear.

"One day I woke up and he was gone," he said, his voice barely more than a breath. "My mom was on the floor, bleeding. I thought she was dead, but she wasn't. Somehow, she wasn't. I tried to help her, but I didn't know what to do. I was just a kid, you know? I was so fucking scared."

His hand swallowed around mine in a way that made me want to move closer, to try and hide him from such terrifying memories, I knew actions spoke louder than words. "Kirk, baby..." I whispered in a. "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "Don't be. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault but his."

We sat silent for a little while, his admission hanging heavy. I mean, how could I ever find the words to say? But I wanted him to know I was there for him, that more than anything, I wasn't going anywhere. I moved in and kissed his cheek, teared with the taste of salt through his wet skin, and he turned into me, burying his face into my neck.

"I never told nobody that," he murmured. "Just James."

I held him, felt his heart. That was all he seemed to need. "You don't have to carry it alone... Not anymore," I said softly, my fingers mindlessly toying with his tight curls. "I'm here, Kirk..."

He pulled back far enough to look at me. "I'm scared," he confessed. "That I'll end up like him. That I'll hurt you."

I shook my head, pressing my forehead to his. "You're not him," I told him firmly. "You could never be him. You're kind and you're good, and I know you'd never hurt me... or anyone for that matter."

For a beat, he just stared at me, his eyes boring into my own. Then he kissed me. Though a tad shocked, I kissed him back just as sweetly.

When we finally pulled apart, Kirk smiled. His fingers traced the outline of my face. He had this look... Perhaps it was peace, or maybe the beginning of it.

[fictionismyreality3]

Hi first off just wanted to say I absolutely love your work! But please remember to take care of yourself and have plenty of water and Food and please remember to take breaks 🫶

Anyways I was wondering if I could req a fic where Jason finds out his s/o is an Ex-Criminal who's trying really hard not to fall back into old habits but is struggling because these guys keep harrasing them to become a criminal again

Mm just gonna take this :D -🎧

Better off Before You

Jason Todd x Reader

Tags: boyfriend!jason todd, ex-criminal!reader, established relationship, kinda controlling!jason todd idk, angst but it gets resolved at the end

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, violence, crime, drugs, weapons like knives and guns, arson, sexual assault 🤨

Notes: I gagged writing this 😩 sorry to all the Jefferey’s out there I just think Jeff is a creepy name. Kinda put a spin on the req hope that’s okay ☺️

34 stitches, 18 hours, and 1 bullet.

That’s what you’d scarified to get the life you had now. You’d done your time, and spent the hours necessary to detach yourself from your previous life and associates.

You had a lot to be grateful for and you knew that. It wasn’t like you were waking up everyday selfishly forgetting where you came from. That seemed impossible with the way the bullet was still lodged under the skin of your hip. But you were happy. You had a good life now and you were happy.

When you met Jay, you used to go by a different name, and when you thought about it, you were really a different person. But he pushed you. He wasn’t like those other self righteous hero’s you so often found yourself running from. He told it like it was, and he didn’t care if he hurt your feelings when he spoke. And back then, that’s something you needed desperately.

“You look like shit.”

Rolling your eyes, you wiped your lips, spitting the blood that had pooled in your mouth onto the gum covered pavement.

“You’re not exactly looking your best either, Red.” You drawled, eying the tall form of Jason Todd as he stalked down the alley towards you. “Yeah, well, it’s been one of those days.” He shrugged.

“Cortez?” Jason threw out there as he tucked his pistols away and got ready for a fist fight.

“No, Romero this time. You know what the buyers are like.”

Rain fell around you as you struck Jason in the stomach, his body expertly maneuvering to the side so he could grab your leg when you tried to throw a kick at him. Soon you were on your back, hitting at the inside of his elbow to push him off you. A well timed bite to shoulder and kick in the nuts let you escape.

That was 2 years ago.

Some days you almost wished you’d lost that fight, it would have made getting out from under your bosses thumb a lot easier had you been thrown in jail. You ended up having to do it the hard way. First breaking things off with Cortez, he was a squealer, especially when you pulled a few fingernails to reinforce he wouldn’t come after you.

Romero was harder. The man had a good few hundred men and women working for him. He practically ran the entire drug scene on the east end of Gotham. You used to be one of his best. It was a slightly demeaning work, being the person whose sole job was to ensure rich, high society people got their pill fix for the week, but it payed well. The only way you managed to get out was by knocking off his men one by one till you got to the top.

To him.

But Jay helped you, and you did it, even if it did leaving you with a permanent reminder in the flesh of your hip. There was no immediate way for Romero build back his little empire, and you allowed yourself to relax over the years, even getting to the point where Jason and you would run missions for Bruce.

Which is why this had to be a one time thing.

“Eh, c’mon pretty. Let’s not keep the boss waiting.”

How you found yourself back on the radar of the man you were trying so hard to distance yourself from seemed to be a sick joke from the universe. All it took was one wrong decision and you’d slipped right back into your old life like you’d never left. It wasn’t that you wanted to, but at this point, you didn’t have a choice.

You were sloppy. Normally you made sure to never take any jobs related to the underground drug rings so as to avoid spotted. But you didn’t do your research, and one bust got you noticed by one of Romero’s men who got away. That was all it took for him to go ratting back to his boss, who now held a massive grudge against you for how long it took him to regain power.

You fought hard when they found you again. The skin of your attackers still sat underneath your fingernails.

But you weren’t a super, you didn’t have powers or years of extreme training like Jay. You were just a girl who grew up on the wrong side of town, and chloroform wasn’t exactly easily avoided.

Scanning your surroundings, you tried to memorize the route of winding hallways you were being dragged through. The smell of gasoline and booze hung in the air, making your nose scrunch in disgust. Being pushed through a set of heavy metal doors, you found yourself face to face with the beady eyes of Jefferey Romero.

“You know, I’ve thought a lot about what I would say,” he began, standing up from the crusty folding chair he was sitting in. “When I saw you again.” Two men came and held your arms behind your back, their grip tight despite your struggling. “But all I can think about is how pathetic you look.”

One grubby hand reached up to clutch your chin, his fingers digging into your skin while he surveyed your face. The other reached down and squeezed at your ass.

“Fuck you.” You spat.

Driving your knee up, you kicked him as hard as you could in the dick, relishing the whiny noise of pain he made as he fell to his knees. Deciding to use the opportunity, you spat on him, but by then more of his men came to hold you still.

“You’re just as feisty as I remember too.” He coughed and brushed himself off. Getting back up, with a slight limp he came to stand in front of you. “You cost me a lot of money, you know.” Romero licked his lips. “It took me years to get it back.” He thread his fingers through your hair, yanking your head harshly to the side. “That’s why you’re gonna do me a little favour, bitch.”

You scoffed, wanting nothing more than to wrap your hands around his neck and choke him to death. “I’m not doing jack shit for you.” Romero let out a sneering laugh.

“Oh, but you will. Because I have this.”

As he held out his hand, your eyes darted down to the little enamel pin resting in his palm.

Your tongue was heavy in your mouth.

“What do you need?”

Jason wasn’t a great boyfriend when it came to his protectiveness. Knowing the life you’d came from, and how you two literally met when you were running from the cops, he was constantly worried about keeping you safe. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, he just wanted you to have the life you deserved.

Because he knew you deserved so much.

Fiddling with the string of his hoodie, he tried to stay focused on whatever random ass tv show was on. Pressing the material to his nose, he took a deep breath. Your perfume filled his lungs and he felt dizzy and relieved at the same time. It had only been a few hours since you left to go get some groceries, but the time away was killing him.

Clingy was a word he liked to pretend didn’t exist, but with the way you’d been acting for the last few weeks, he was getting more and more reluctant to let you out of his sight. Bruises that you’d brush off as you being clumsy, scrapes lining your knees, even the way your eyes were seemingly darting around to look for a threat that wasn’t there. All of it was beginning to leave a sour taste in Jason’s mouth.

Normally, he would never do anything to invade your privacy, but the nagging feeling in the back of his head wouldn’t let him drop it. Rustling through drawer after drawer, Jason searched from the objects that would confirm his suspicions. Cursing under his breath, he mumbled a few prayers that this wasn’t what he thought it was as he moved to your half of the closet.

Pushing the clothes to the side, his eyes got stuck on the red dress he’d bought you, and he had to clench his fists from punching the wall when he saw what was lying in the shoebox behind it.

Your knives.

The same knives he’d taken from you when you first started to change the way you were living. The same knives he’d hidden from you to help you transition. The same knives that were sitting there, clearly having been recently polish, laughing at him as they glinted in the light. The sound of the front door ripped him from his stupor.

“Hey, Jay. I got those chips you like-” Your words died on your tongue as you came face to face with a very angry Jason Todd, standing in the living room, holding a reminder of your past.

“What the fuck is this, huh?” He ground out, holding knives out with a shaking hand. “I promise, it’s not what it looks like.” You began quickly. Letting out a huff of tightly contained anger, Jason stormed up to you, grabbing you by the wrists and sending your shopping bags to the floor.

“Not what it looks like?” He scoffed. “No, I-”

“Because to me, it sure fucking looks like you’re working again.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared up into the now swirling blue-green eyes of the one man who never left. “You don’t understand.” You tried to plead. Throwing the knives to the floor, Jason backed you up against the front door, his hands caging you against the wood. “I don’t understand?” He hissed. “I risked my ass when I asked Bruce to cover your bail.”

The pressure of your rapidly beating heart was barely being held in by your ribcage. “Jay, you can’t understand.”

Jason swore he felt a tooth crack with how hard he was clenching his jaw. There hadn’t been a lot of instances where he’d felt truly hurt in his life, not before you. He always kept himself too closed off for that. But now? Now the small sliver of worth you had given him felt like it was being doused in salt and vodka.

“Then make me understand, baby.” Jay pleaded. “I can’t let you do this to yourself.” He hated the way his voice cracked.

All at once you were overcome with the urge to tell him everything, to fall into his arms and cry to him about how Romero had found where your sister went to university, and how you might not have talked to her in years but you still couldn’t let her die.

But your mouth didn’t open.

And Jason could only drop his hands to his sides and take a step back from you.

“Where the fuck having you been goin’ for the last 3 weeks?” He said disbelieving. “I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Wiping the tear you didn’t realize was forming, took a deep breath and steeled yourself.

“I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

All his years of experience, the instincts and reaction times he’d had trained into him, seemed to vanish as he watched you turn on your heel and leave. Standing frozen for a moment, Jason stared at the handle of the door, as if his gaze would somehow cause it to turn and you to come back.

“Fuck.” He snarled, whipping around to leave a fist sized hole in the wall.

One more job.

One more job and then this would all be over.

That’s what you kept telling yourself. The words got repeated over and over again in your mind as you stepped out into the streets of Gotham and began walking towards where you were stashing your things. The words echoed into the foggy air as you mumbled to yourself, changing into your district clothes and heading to the target Romero sent you.

They acted as a sort of prayer to who ever was listening. A plea, for all of this mess to somehow how straighten itself out, and for you to be forgiven as you hurled the bottle of alcohol and flames at the cargo truck you’d been ordered to destroy.

The fire danced across the surface of the truck until the whole thing burst into a ball of heat. You don’t know what was in it or why Romero wanted it gone, and you didn’t ask. You didn’t want to know. All you felt like doing was crumbling into the pavement and disappearing into one of the cities many potholes so you never had to show your face again.

It was nearly impossible for Jason to keep from destroying the apartment. Every item of furniture you’d picked out together sat like a reminder. He’d been the one to get you off the streets. He’d been the one to show you that there were people who cared about more than their next hit or how to get money. He’d been the one to help you get free.

And now he had failed you.

Jason sat on the couch, slumped forward with his head in his hands. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Really, everything was wrong, but something about the way you left felt odd. There was this look in your eye, the same one he saw the first time you’d met when he cornered you after the police slacked off at their jobs. A look of fear.

Not towards him. He could still remember it plain as day. It was more a look of dread, like you were worried about the consequences of getting caught and not the scary guy in the red mask who caught you. Like you were dreading someone finding out. Just thinking about it made his stomach churn. Although he was absolutely livid, he couldn’t stand seeing you in fear because he loved you.

He loved you.

“What the fuck am I doin’ just sitting here?”

When you got back to the seedy building near the docks, you were let in instantly by two of Romero’s men. The winding hallways of his new building had reluctantly become a familiar sight after spending the last 3 weeks running errands for him. But now your debt was paid, and you could get to tell Jay everything.

The same set of heavy metal doors that seemed to unlock a world you tried so desperately to forget opened once more, and you were once again standing in front of the man who used you. Putting out his cigarette, Jeffery Romero sauntered his way over to you.

“It’s done. The truck’s gone.” You spoke first. “I did my half of the bargain, so don’t you dare touch my sister.” With a thoughtful look that was clearly exaggerated, he looked you over, walking a circle around you. “I’ll admit, you weren’t as useless as I remembered.” The beady-eyed man snickered. Your hands were clenching, fingernails digging into your palms. “I might even take you back to work for me.”

“I’d never fucking work for you.”

His eyes narrowed, a dark smile curling across his lips. “That’s a shame,” He said nonchalantly. “Because you know too much now to be kept alive.”

As if waiting for their cue, the men who’d been leaning against the walls or playing poker and pretending not to listen pounced on you. Hands were tugging you in every which way, some tearing at your clothes as they shoved you to your knees. With a surge of adrenaline, you went down kicking and screaming, biting and pushing back against anyone who touched you. All the while Romero sat and watched, lighting another cigarette.

Glass shattered as the windows got kicked in. People were screaming. A gun went off. Again. And then again. And slowly, working through the shock, your mind caught up to process the image of Jason blowing the heads off of everyone around you, their brains splattering onto the walls and floor.

Letting out a practically feral noise, you lunged at Romero, shoving him to the ground and pounding your fists down into his face over and over again. Your vision was blurry, partly from your tears and partly from the blood that was spraying onto your face every time you brought your hand down. But you couldn’t stop. You busted his lip for your sister. You shattered his nose for the peace you’d fought for.

And you broke his jaw just for you.

Two strong arms were tugging you off the now lifeless body, and your face was pressed into a broad chest. Taking the first breath you’d been able to in 3 weeks, you got a lungful of Jason and you sobbed like a little baby. The hiss of his mask coming off barely registered in your mind.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, hey you’re- fuck, princess it’s okay.” He cooed and ran his gloved fingers through your hair. “It’s over. It’s over.”

“I should have-” You tried to speak but all that came out was a strangled gasping noise. Jason was wiping the blood off your face, pressing kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. “I should have told you.” You blubbered, clutching at the leather of his jacket. He didn’t even know what you were talking about, or how you got dragged into all this mess, but right now, he didn’t care. “M’not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me.”

“I’m always gonna stay.”

[atzloverr]

Bite me - Vampire bf!Seonghwa x reader

part 2

warnings: nsfw, vampire themes, period sex, blood drinking, smut, afab!reader, Seonghwa is pussy drunk again lol

Seonghwa woke up to the sound of his own growls, his breath hitching as he drew his own blood by clenching his fist so hard. His eyes darted around the room, trying to find the culprit for this feeling that could only be described as need. Either that or just hunger.

This type of hunger would only ever haunt him if he hadn’t fed for a long period of time, but ever since he had your blood, he had started drinking again, so it didn’t make sense.

The only thoughts on his mind were those of you. He couldn’t tell you why, but this hunger was linked to you in some unspeakable way. He inhaled deeply and had to hold back a moan at the intense smell invading his nostrils.

Your boyfriend’s eyes flew over to your sleeping form. You were stirring in your sleep uncomfortably, probably being slowly awoken by the man next to you squirming around in panic. But that wasn’t the only thing making your face contort in discomfort.

You were in pain.

Seonghwa’s breaths were soon growly and deep, something that would scare the shit out of anyone else. It was a primal strategy to keep other predators away.

Your eyes opened slowly, and you immediately sensed that something was off.

“My love,” your soft voice sounded out, snapping Seonghwa out of his trance-like state. His eyes met yours, and you saw them shift in a beautiful shade of red.

“What’s going on?” you asked, sitting down in front of him. Your hand met his, and you noticed the way he shivered.

Your boyfriend didn’t answer, but instead buried his head in your neck, inhaling deeply. You couldn’t help but tense up at the sensation.

It had only been a week since you practically force-fed him your blood, so your wound was not completely healed yet.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Seonghwa admitted, small droplets of water forming in his eyes. His feelings of panic had quickly gotten dulled by your soothing presence. His instincts told him that you were his mate, and that you needed to be protected, no matter what. He had no idea why this feeling came to him so suddenly.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was five in the morning. You sighed and helped Seonghwa lie down next to you. He kept his head in the crook of your neck, with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

Suddenly, a small whimper of pain left your lips. Seonghwa immediately backed away from you slightly, meeting your gaze as your body curled up on itself.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, putting a hand on your stomach. “I’m on my period.”

Seonghwa blinked.

You didn’t miss the way he started thinking deeply, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink in the process.

“What?” you asked anxiously.

“Darling,” Seonghwa started. You tilted your head. “I think I know why I’m like this.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

You were now lying down, with Seonghwa sitting on the bed a little too far away from you for your liking, but he insisted it was for the best.

“So what you’re saying is…” you began, slowly putting the pieces together. “Since you’ve tasted my blood once, the ‘blood of your mate’… your instincts have formed a connection to my blood, which makes it harder for you to resist it?” you questioned, your head almost aching from the confusion.

Seonghwa had tried his best to explain what he thought was going on, but his constant thirst for your blood made it extremely hard to focus. He decided to just hold his breath to his best ability.

“Yes, that’s it,” he affirmed. When he found out about your cramps, your boyfriend had immediately ran to give you a heat pad to put on your stomach. He insisted he would cuddle you, if it weren’t for his instincts constantly telling him to drain you dry.

“And what do you suppose we do about that? Are you going to leave me alone until my period has ended?” you proposed, trying your best to ignore the cramps attacking you ever so often.

“Oh no no no, hell no!” Seonghwa shook his head in disagreement. “That would probably make my instincts even worse,” he explained. “Leaving you alone, bleeding and in pain, would be the worst thing,” he told you. “Besides, I would never let you go through this without my help baby.”

You shrugged him off slightly. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” you tried, but you knew he wasn’t playing. “Don’t give me that.”

“Okay so, what do you propose then? I can’t have you holding your breath around me like this,” you begged.

Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows in thought, when you suddenly got an idea. You were about to say it, but immediately stopped yourself.

“What?” Seonghwa asked. Your eyes widened slightly. “What?” you echoed. “You were about to say something?” Seonghwa insisted. Damn that man and his attention to detail.

“Oh no, it was nothing,” you tried to shrug it off, but you only earned a disappointed sigh. You knew he wouldn’t give up until you told him.

“Okay, I just thought that…” you started, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “M-maybe you could..,” you swallowed. Seonghwa gave you that big eyed look he knew made you weak.

“Maybeyoucoulddrinkfrommeagain…”

“What did you say?” Seonghwa almost coughed out in shock. You nervously played with the hem of your sweater. “You know what I said! I know you have excellent hearing!”

Seonghwa looked down at the mattress in disbelief. “You want me to drink from you again? Seriously?” he asked. You suddenly felt a wave of shame wash over you.

“I mean, if you don’t want to you don’t have to—“

“Of course I want to!” he looked you deep in the eye. You were shocked at his sudden admission. “But don’t you remember last time?”

Your head lowered. “I was so scared, my love. I was scared for your life! I can’t put you through that again! And I- I don’t think I can even go through that again…” His voice was laced with shame and fear.

“You had been starving for weeks,” you argued.

“You fainted.”

“You won’t lose control like that again.”

“How do you know that?”

You swallowed before Seonghwa opened his mouth again.

“I can’t bite you again. I won’t do it.”

You suddenly felt a lightbulb appear in your head.

“Who says you have to bite me?”

…

“What?”

“Well, I’m already bleeding, aren’t I?” you explained. “Can’t you just… you know…” you suddenly felt the shyness take over you once again.

Seonghwa felt his instincts screaming at him. Do it, now! While simultaneously feeling the bulge in his pants already starting to grow. With him having started to feed again, his energy levels had risen like never before. That included his sexual energy.

You noticed the way his breath got caught in his throat, but felt satisfied to not earn that immediate ‘no’ you were expecting.

Seonghwa swallowed.

“On one condition.”

You felt yourself already become satisfied with his answer, liking that you had convinced him to let himself feed when he needed it.

“Alright, what is it?” you asked. “You have to take the silver knife.”

Your eyes widened in shock, but just as you were about to shake your head no, you thought about it for a second.

“What do you want me to do with it?” you tested, squinting your eyes in suspicion. Seonghwa let out a hearty laugh at your cute expression. “If you notice that I’m starting to lose control in any way, don’t hesitate to use it on me.”

The silver knife was the only weapon able to make a vampire weak, able to sever its life. You were shocked to see that Seonghwa had one in his possession, seeing as the silver handle made his skin burn at the lightest touch. He told you that it was only right for a vampire with a human lover to own one. He knew that if he wanted to make the relationship fair, he needed to let you hold this power over him as well.

The power to kill.

You considered his request. You yourself were convinced that he wouldn’t lose control, and as hard at it would be to use the knife in that situation, you were determined, and would be able to handle it.

“Okay, deal.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

You heard the loud slurping, growling and moaning from under the sheets, the towel under your getting wrinkled by Seonghwa’s hands harshly gripping them. You couldn’t stop a whimper from escaping you as your boyfriend’s long tongue finding your entrance.

When you had agreed to Seonghwa’s conditions, it was like something came over him, and suddenly he only had one goal. To get in between your legs.

At an inhuman speed, he got a towel to place under your pelvis, as well as the silver knife, wrapped in a blue cloth.

He placed the blue cloth beside you, without even uttering a single word, and you felt shy when he ripped off your pants, leaving you in only your panties and a tank top.

“Do you have a tampon in?” he asked, his voice sounding foreign to you. Deeper. Richer.

“I- No,” you answered, squirming slightly. You had never done this when on your period, and even though you came up with the idea, you weren’t sure how this would feel.

But here you were, with a pussy drunk vampire treating you like his last meal. You couldn’t help but tremble at the overstimulation, having already orgasmed multiple times without a break, but alas, you really wanted Seonghwa to feel good.

You could tell how much he enjoyed it, his eyes rolled back in bliss, while he moaned loudly. You felt his sharp fangs graze you, and couldn’t help but gasp and retreat slightly. As much as you were keen with this, you weren’t sure you wanted him to bite you down there.

“Hwa—“ you whimpered out, moving his head up slightly. He almost hissed at you, his eyes red and wide with anger. You couldn’t help but gasp in fear, causing his eyes to immediately turn apologetic and sad.

“No, I- I’m sorry baby,” he breathed out, trying to gather his words. You smiled, seeing that he was still himself.

His face was covered in your blood, his tongue licking the red liquid coating his lips. “I swear I won’t hurt you, do you want me to stop?” he asked, clearly still struggling to speak, his instincts probably still screaming at him.

“No Y- you can keep going…” you admitted shamefully. You had to admit it felt kind of good to be distracted from your cramps, and you wanted to make sure Seonghwa could feel normal again.

Your boyfriend hummed in agreement, slowly lowering his head back to your heat, still giving you a chance to change your mind.

A deep moan escaped him as he felt your taste once again, more blood having flown out of you in this short period of time. He slowly lapped his tongue up and down, making sure to be gentle this time, not even wanting to think about getting carried away.

And so he kept licking you slowly for hours on end, keeping your hand in his and constantly checking up on you. He was satisfied to see you getting sleepy, considering he woke you up in the early morning. He knew you needed sleep, so when he heard your heartbeat slow down as your breathing changed, he retracted from you, getting up to dress you again.

His instincts had now calmed down, and he could think more rationally. He wrapped the silver knife in the cloth, being careful not to touch it. As he came back to your sleeping form, he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around you.

Words couldn’t describe his love for you. You were so patient. So understanding. He felt a smile coat his lips as you snuggled into him in your sleep.

“My beautiful girl.”

heyyy idk what this is really, but since many people liked the last one I decided to make a little sequence lollll. Hope you enjoyed! Requests are open!

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

You hate Logan but you have a child together

You had a complicated relationship with your Logan. When he first came to the mansion the two of you hit off immediately. The typical good girl bad guy dynamic, but there always a layer of Logan you couldn't quite get to. He wanted to be with you, but he didn't want to do the work in order to keep you. He struggled with being emotionally vulnerable and you were the complete opposite. You told him you felt, you spoke through misunderstandings with him, and you were always there to listen. To try get any piece of your lover that you could. But after years of begging Logan to love you, when you told him you were in love with him. He said he was not, and that was the end of your relationship.

Or so you thought. Because your relationship couldn't end that easily, but you discovered you were pregnant. Logan tried to make things back to normal, but you rejected him at every turn. He hadn't ever wanted to hurt you, but as he realized your unrelenting anger, he knew he did. He knew that you cried when you were alone, that you'd start going to therapy again. That being pregnant with Logan's child was literally the last thing he thought you wanted. Maybe before when you were together when Logan wasn't confronted on being a coward.

He calls this karma, watching you go to Jean and Scott for support instead of him. Watching you grow progressively more pregnant with his child, and he couldn't hold you or kiss you. Logan thought about leaving, it was he had done so many times before. Even when the two of you were together, he'd leave for long periods of time. Breaking your heart over and over again but coming back asking for forgiveness. You'd given him so many chances and he had wasted them on being a brainless dick.

Little did you know how hard it was not to run back to him, not to give him to his promises. But you couldn't trust that he was going to come through for you. You didn't have any doubts about your child together, you knew that you meant something to him. You'd hope that his anxiety wouldn't pull him away from his own child. Because you knew he'd be a good dad, the way he was with Rogue, always checking in on her, making sure Bobby was being respectful. He loved her like a daughter, and you only hopped he could love your child the same.

Logan was going to have to be a part of your life no matter what now, or so you hoped. There was a hope in Logan that when your daughter was born that you would accept him again. He'd plan to tell you he loved you, that'd he give anything to you, that he'd wait for forever. It took him 9 months to grow the guts to do it.

It was a no brainer when he had their baby in his arms, you laying in the med-bay, he'd never seen you so tired but so happy. "Y/n." He murmured, looking over at you with his soft eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you made eye contact with him. "I'm sorry for letting you down, I-I want to give you everything, I-I loved you for so long, I've just been too scared to say anything." He admitted, wearing his heart on his sleeve for once in his life.

You felt tears well up in your eyes at the pang in your chest, you shook your head as you looked away. "I-I can't risk it, Logan. Getting hurt by you-." You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I can't do it again, and I can't focus on you anymore and how you make me feel, I gotta focus on our girl, make sure she has the life she's supposed to."

Logan didn't say anything as he looked back down at his daughter, a shaky sigh falling from his mouth as he tried to keep the tears welling up in his eyes at bay. He didn't think he would cry if you said no, but Logan also thought you would forgive him. "I uh-I wanna name her Hazel."

"Yeah?" He grinned over at you, even just the slimmest of hope fluttering in his chest. You also spoke about his hazel eyes; it was one of your favorite things about him. Even if you didn't consciously pick it because of him, he had given him the glimmer of hope he needed to completely devote himself to you and Hazel.

Logan didn't confess anymore feelings or push you to be with him. But you grew rather annoyed by his presence always a reminder of something you wanted desperately but whenever you got it hurt you. It was like the apple that you wanted so desperately but everything was telling you to not grab the apple, don't eat it. Don't give into those green eyes and that handsome smile. Try not to focus when he was talking in that almost condescending way while his eyes flitted up and down your body. This man had no shame in showing you how much he loved you, by teasing, poking, antagonizing. But also being the first one to show up when you were overwhelmed with Hazel or you were just having a rough time. He didn't need to ask, he just did.

Being so agonizing good with your daughter that it was hard not to fold when he was such a good man. But instead of giving him a chance, you only pushed him away more, complaining about the littlest things and not giving Logan the benefit of the doubt. When Hazel wasn't around, it was you calling him some name and trying to start an argument with him.

But it was hard to act like a bitch when you saw your one and half year old on Logan's hip while he made her breakfast. It was his morning to take care of her, but you'd waken up early so you went for some coffee. "Morning beautiful." Logan grinned at you, you were suer he said those things to purposely piss you off. You ignored him as usual coming up to Hazel and kissing her cheek.

"Good morning love bug." You murmured to her, as she grinned over at you before putting a kiss on your own cheek. Logan gazed over at the two of you, imagines of you calling him that nickname, 'Love bug'. You'd explained to him how much that nickname actually meant to you, how it was favorite term of endearment. Something that you called him for a long time. He just wished it would be directed at him one day, one day he'd regain your trust again, right?

Logan wasn't a patient man.

But he was patient for his girls.

Notes: angsty moment here lmao got this idea last night just didn't have time to write it. hope you enjoy! lmk if you want a part 2

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland

[submattenthusiast]

Matt w a humiliation kink

this is so 😖

matt clutched his phone tightly in his hand, fingers swiping against the screen, scrolling through his various pictures of you.

he was looking for a screenshot and got distracted. his cheeks tinted pink as he came across more intimate pictures of you. as he swiped his boner grew.

he was painfully hard but still looking, engrossed in you. matt shifted uncomfortably, boxers feeling a little too snug around his cock. his slender hand moved down to his lap, massaging himself through his sweats, hissing at the feeling.

matt was about to pull his cock out when he heard the floorboards in front of his door creaking. you walked past his room into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. he sighed in relief, palming himself, whining at the touch.

you finished up in the bathroom, joining matt in the bedroom. you knocked before peaking in, seeing his head thrown back, with his phone in one hand and your panties on top of his dick.

your jaw dropped, you wondered if this was the first time he has used your panties to get himself off. "matt what the fuck?" his eyes shot open and his head jerked up at the sound of your voice.

"fuck i thought you were in the shower" his head was down in shame, as he mumbled to you. "you thought i was in the shower so you took the opportunity to touch yourself with my panties, and watch porn while you do it?" you spat, motioning towards his lap.

"i wasn't watching porn!" he defended, upset that you thought so low of him. matt got up from the bed and started walking towards you, needing to reason with you. your eyebrows raised in confusion, if he wasn't watching porn the what the fuck was on the phone.

"what were you doing then'' you questioned, backing away from him. he stopped reaching for you once and stood awkwardly. "w-was looking at pictures of you i-" he uttered out, embarrassed. "get on your knees" you interrupted, seeing he was still turned on. "o-oh okay" he dropped down, hitting the floor a little too hard, winces falling out his lips seconds after.

"you were touching yourself with my panties and to pictures of me? when i was right in the other room? how pathetic" you degraded,he whimpered at the harsh tone and looked down at the floor. "y-yes i'm sorry was just desperate" he stuttered, tears threatening to fall. "look at me when i'm talking to you matt" he obeyed immediately and looked up at you with puppy eyes "yes ma'am".

"you like this don't you? you like that i caught you" your eyes trailing down to the boner poking from his jeans. "n-no i don't i-" he tried explaining. "don't lie to me matthew, i know you're still hard, know your cock is twitching in your pants" you said, leaving him dumbfounded.

"i am i am i'm wanted you to catch me" he cried, your cruel words working him up. he shuffled closer to you, his head resting on your thighs. "please keep going 'm close" he whispered into the skin. "gonna cum from my words hm?" you caressed his hair.

"yes please m so hard" he said, kissing up your thigh. "not yet sweetheart, i have so much more to say"

this was gonna be a full fic if i didn't end it there, hope this was what you had in mind.

[muwapsturniolo]

Hockey!matt

First post in the AU!

MATT STURNIOLO: PASSIONATE OR A HOT HEAD?

"Matthew Bernard Sturniolo, a 24-year-old triplet native to Boston Massachusetts. According to his parents, from a young age he and his youngest brother Christopher Owen Sturniolo, were always interested in sports. Seeing this, the parents decided to throw the boys in any sport they could. They started off playing for their town's soccer team, a typical thing for most kids to do. However, it seemed as if the sport wasn't enough for a young Matthew. It was too easy, he cleared all the other kids without even trying. Seeing this, his parents threw him into another sport, lacrosse. Now this held Matthew over for a long time until it became boring, he needed something more.

That's when hockey came into play, a sport most boys in Boston find solace in during the cold months. The sport seemed to be Matt's calling, the ice feeling like a second home. His talent was natural, something most people couldn't obtain no matter how much they trained. He ended up loving the sport so much, he made it his full-time career.

At age 17, he graduated high school alongside his two brothers and their childhood best friend. All four boys managed to get full-ride scholarships to Boston University, a school that had many NCAA wins, and has sent many players to the NHL. Matt took control of the Terriers by force, quickly becoming the captain when only being a freshman. Many of his former teammates and coaches had good things to say about him, but something stood out to me. That something was his anger.

"He was a hothead, always shouting and yelling at us during practice"

"There were a couple of times where he broke his stick and punched a locker after losing a game"

"I remember he argued with our coach one day. The argument was so bad, both of them just ripping into each other. It escalated so quick, one second they were shouting and the next Matt was throwing punches."

All of these are quotes by old teammates who would like to stay anonymous.

It was an evident pattern that managed to follow him to where he is now, the lucky star of the Boston Bruins. I had the specialty of sitting in on some of the practices, seeing how the men work with each other. Just like I expected, Matt was a force to be reckoned with. He yelled and berated some of his teammates, even going as far as getting into an argument with his own brother. It's hard to tell if it's just him being driven by passion, or if he simply has anger issues. I chose to go with the latter considering what I saw during the first game of the preseason.

The Bruins were losing against the New York Rangers, not that the score mattered. The preseason is mainly for the coaches to evaluate their team and see who fits where. So why was Matt Sturniolo causing fights, yelling at refs, and being an overall hothead? He resembled the Hulk, the brute green giant who was also a hothead when angry. It seems as if no matter the situation, training, preseason, or the actual NHL season, he was locked in and out for blood.

He's passionate about the sport, perhaps too passionate. Would it be his downfall? Would the Bruins let him go and leave him to reminisce about his glory days while he rots? We will have to tune in to this year's NHL season to find out."

Y/n Y/L * october 3rd, 2024

AHHHHHH A NEW TROPE/AU!!!!! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS! IF THIS IS CONFSUING IM SORRY! I TRIED TO MAKE THIS INTRO THE ARTICLE READER (AKA YOU) WROTE ABOUT MATT WHICH JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE HOW YALL MEET! I HOPE THIS GIVES A GOOD BACKGROUND! I PLAN ON DOING FICS FOR THIS AU BUT IM ALSO WILLING TO DO BLURBS JUST HOW I DID FOR BUNNY!READER!!!

LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!!

[hsunrry]

online meeting // one shot harry styles

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request.

words: ~900

warnings: smut18+, masturbation (f), dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, squirting, oral (m receiving)

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

“what’re you up to?” you wrapped your arms around his neck. he was sitting on the couch with laptop on his lap. you were standing behind him.

“i have online meeting with my team, about new dates and stuff.” he mumbled, going on the facetime app. you kissed the nape of his neck few times.

“can’t it wait?” your lips brushing the skin on his neck when you’re talking. he sigh and shook his head. “please, baby.” you sucked on his neck.

“darling, i’ll take care of you after meeting, okay?” he turned his head to look at you. you pouted. he grabbed your bottom lip between his fingers and slightly pulled it. “don’t pout at me.” he smiled, grabbing the nape of your neck and pulling you for the kiss. the rest of the team started calling him on the group chat. you pulled back, going on the opposite couch. you came up with devilish idea. “hello guys.” he smiled to the camera. you quickly took off your t-shirt and since you had only this and panties on yourself, you were sitting only in your underwear now. his eyes widened at your actions, clearly didn’t knew what you’re up to. he cleared his throat and his eyes were back at his team. “so, about new dates…” he started, but quickly went back with his eyes on you, when you started touching your naked breast. “excuse me for a moment.” he said to the laptop and he muted himself from conversation. he closed it slightly so his team couldn’t see him. “y/n, that’s not funny.” he licked his lips.

“what’s not funny?” you smiled innocently, taking off your panties. you started tracing small circles on your clit, gasping. “just focus on your meeting baby, i’ll focus on myself.” he clenched his jaw at your words, because how the hell he was supposed to focus on meeting, when you were like that and his dick was already painfully hard? he unmuted himself, going back to conversation.

“sorry. what i was saying…” he went back to the call. in meantime, you laid down on the couch, pushing two fingers inside you. your free hand immediately went to cover your mouth, when with other you were pumping your digits in and out slowly. you tilted your head back with closed eyes. he’s cock twitched in his boxers at the sight. he tried to focus so hard on the meeting, but with you in front of him like that, he just couldn’t. his last straw was sight of you arching your back on this fucking couch in front of him. “i’m sorry, i have to restart the wifi router, i can’t hear you all properly. i’ll join the call in few minutes.” he ended the call and immediately went to you. he grabbed your wrist, pulling your fingers out of you. he licked them clean. “you think you’re funny?” he focused his gaze on your face, pushing his two fingers inside you. your other hand was no longer on your mouth, so you moaned. “hope you’re ready for my cock.” he pulled out his digits, taking off his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion. he lifted you up and positioned you, so you were kneeling on the couch with your hands holding the back of it. he quickly pushed his dick inside you, not even giving you a chance to adjust. he gripped your hips, moving fast in and out. “feels fucking good, huh? bet it’s better than your fingers.” you moaned loudly at his words. he slapped your ass firmly. “answer, whore.”

“y- fuck- yes, baby.” you cried out. he grinned, moving faster. your eyes rolled back already and your grip on the couch tightened. his leg went on the couch, to give himself better position to move even faster. “H-Harry, fuck, slow down, please.” you gasped, feeling something else than regular orgasm. something new to you. “i feel like i have to pee.” you looked at him over your shoulder. his eyes darkened and he went around your waist with his hand to rub your clit.

“it’s not pee, honey. just let go for me, let yourself go, yeah?” he started to pound even faster in and out and his hand was working on your clit. your legs started shaking slightly.

“jesus christ!” you moaned, when you felt the biggest orgasm in your life. he pulled out, rubbing fast on your clit still. you almost collapsed on the couch and your juices wetted material of the couch, floor and his cock. your body was shaking and your breath was heavy. “did i just-?”

“yes, you just squirted baby.” he smiled, giving your shoulder a kiss.

“i didn’t know i can do that.” you said, sitting on the couch, being ready to suck him.

“me neither, but now that i know that you can, it’s a whole different story.” he caressed your cheek, moaning when you took him into your mouth. you started bobbing your head fast, taking almost whole of him. “so fucking good, suck me off, just like that.” he panted, holding your hair with his hand. your lips quickly took him over the edge. his hot sprouts going down your throat, making you moan around him. you swallowed, letting go of him when he calmed down. he leaned down, pecking your lips. “now go to our bedroom. i’ll quickly clean up this mess and after i’m done with meeting, we’ll do it again.”

[shadystranger]

—So what changed your mind?

The damnest thing

DEAN: I-I-I don't need you coming up with some way to stop me. I-I-I don't need to get shaky on this thing.

Sam, you tried. And I love you for trying.

Sam, you're the last person I could tell. The last person I could be around because you're the only one that could've talked me out of it. And I won't.

Okay, Sam. Let's go home. Let's go home. Maybe Billie's wrong. Maybe. But I do believe in us.

I can't keep waking up every morning with this false hope. I'm done trying to find a cure, Sammy. I'm willing to live with this thing forever.

—Dean, listen to me - whatever you're doing, whatever you've done, please...

I let Rudy die. How was that not evil? I know what I am, Sam.

—You summoned me because you knew I would do anything to protect you.

DEATH: It's for family [the world] that you must [kill Sam].

SAM: This is where you tell me you're gonna pull the trigger? DEAN: Yeah, it is. We don't have a choice, Sam.

SAM: Now you - you want my permission? (Stammers) You want me to say I'm cool with losing him and losing you all at once? 'Cause I can't do that. I won't say that, 'cause I... (getting emotional) No. I've already lost too much.

Dean? Dean! (Sam is still running, yelling for Dean.) Dean, don't! Dean? Dean! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, Dean! Hey, hey, hey! Dean!

DEAN: Look, man, I get it. I get it. We have lost way, way too much. And it's hard not to feel like just... cashing out. I felt like that. After Chuck, back at the crypt. But you know what brought me back? You did.

SAM: I know, I know, I'm sorry. I know. But... but what I'm saying is that I don't feel free. and... and sometimes it's... it's like I-I-I can't even breathe. But maybe tomorrow. You know, maybe I'll... I'll feel better in the morning. DEAN: And what if you don't? SAM: I don't know.

DEAN: what I found out about Chuck... it's like-it's like I wasn't alive. Not really. You know, like, my whole life I've never been free. But now... now me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life. Without all this crap on our backs.

DEAN: Chuck has to die. He has to! Otherwise he'll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can't live like that, man! I can't live like that! I won't! SAM: Just put it away, and we'll figure it out, Dean, we'll find another way, you and me. We always do. [Dean uncocks the gun and puts it away.]

I mean, the world is ending...... the walls are coming down on us...... I look over to you and all I can think about is: I just didn't wanna let you down.

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 17 . Heterogeneity (2)

a/n: my body's crashing but midterms are ending soon so hopefully I'll be able to sleep

tags: implications of torture (squint really hard to see it), yandere-ish if you squint, Cale is unconscious again

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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_____ was walking down in the halls just outside Cale’s room. With nothing better to do after talking to Rosalyn, they decided to go out and help Pendrick heal injured soldiers outside. 

However, not 10 steps in and a certain red-haired man is shoving them back into the room they came from.

“What are you doing out? You should be lying down.”

Surprisingly enough, it’s Choi Han who spoke up and not Cale.

“Even if you heal fast there’s no way a wound that severe has fully closed up.”

The swordmaster had a look of disapproval on his face and _____’s poor heart just dropped. Never in their life had they seen Choi Han this disappointed with them.

“What did you even do yesterday? We still don’t know what happened.”

Cale tucked the healer in bed tightly as if they didn’t wake up just half an hour ago. _____ tried to get back up again but thought against it when they saw how the golden dragon was guarding the door with Choi Han guarding the end of the bed.

“I really don’t need to rest more, I swear my wound is almost healed.”

“Almost healed is different from fully healed. You will stay in this bed until we go back to the underground villa. I won’t take no for an answer.”

That shut _____ up.

However, the silence did not last long.

“Start explaining what the hell happened yesterday. Choi Han told you that you told him about how you discovered something.”

Cale sat at the end of the bed. Meanwhile, Eruhaben moved to sit on the couch with Choi Han taking over his place to stand at the door.

“Huh? Oh yes, it was also back when you guys went to Paerun Kingdom.”

The healer forgot for a moment about what they did yesterday. Mind too clouded by the things they talked about with Rosalyn earlier.

“My powers work like a transfer right? Oh right, Eruhaben-nim didn’t know, I’m sorry. So usually I would absorb someone’s wounds or whatever and then I would give and multiply my vitality right?”

Eruhaben started wondering how he got surrounded by so many unlucky people before his death. However, no one in the room knew about his thoughts.

“It got me wondering if I can do the opposite. You know, transfer and multiply my wound and then get their vitality or something along those lines.”

“Huuu”

Cale couldn’t help but sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“You do know that this wasn’t what Ron meant when he told you to create something of your own, right?”

“It wasn’t? But isn’t it still a good idea.”

“_____-nim… that’s not…”

Choi Han started wondering why his serving two self-sacrificial young masters. Just like with the gold dragon, no one else knew about his thoughts.

“Yes, I know… Rosalyn-unnie already scolded me about it. I’m really sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“And what exactly are you sorry for?”

Cale’s gaze looked as though he was ready to get disappointed by whatever the healer was about to say.

“No really, I know what I did wrong this time. I’ll try not to put myself in danger next time. I’m really sorry for worrying everyone, I know I acted rashly.”

“Try?”

Eruhaben’s voice rang out for the first time since they got inside the room.

“I mean it’s a good ability… I was just unlucky this time because that half-dragon got away before I could steal some vitality… Plus, wouldn’t it be super helpful? Like imagine I have just a tiny cut but when I transfer it to the enemy it can become a lethal wound.”

While Cale is glad _____ is more lively and doesn’t act like a puppet anymore, he's not happy about this newfound stubbornness. Where did the healer even learn it from? But just like the other two men, no one else knew about his thoughts.

The commander doesn’t want to restrict the healer’s movements or freedom. Not only would it be annoying to have to constantly look after them, but it would be similar to how they used to live when they were with the Perduellios.

But at the same time, this discovery is dangerous when left alone.

“Haaa, you’ll only use that ability when it’s an emergency or when I allow you to. Unnecessarily use that power again and see if Beacrox will prepare any more desserts for you.”

Not Beacrox’s desserts, _____ loves those.

The crestfallen healer only nodded in agreement. But honestly, they don’t fully understand why everyone is acting as though they have no self-preservation. It’s not like they won’t heal. Did everyone miss the part when _____ said they can absorb another person’s vitality?

If there’s someone in their group who has no self-preservation it’s gotta be Cale, not them.

True to Cale’s words _____ didn’t get to help out in anything for the remaining time they were in Caro Kingdom. Every attempt of theirs would get shut down by everyone. The healer thought it would get better after they fully healed.

Yes and No

After resting for a bit in the super rock villa, _____ has been allowed to go back to their regular duties. However, Cale stuck the healer to him like glue. From war battles to stealthy operations to more battles. From the Caro Kingdom to the Roan Kingdom to the Western Continent to the Empire. No matter where Cale went _____ is with him. 

Well, not like _____ has a problem with it so they just let it be.

Plus they know that if they want, they can ask Cale anytime to leave them in Leeb-An City or the underground villa.

But they didn’t because just as it eases Cale’s mind to have the healer with him (not that he’d admit it), _____’s mind is also at ease whenever they are with Cale.

Or so it was.

If _____ hated Adin and the White Star before, they loathe them now.

"I-I don't understand, his body is completely fine. I have also replenished his energy however he won't wake up."

It’s been more than a week since the day Cale fainted. Yet he still showed no signs of waking up. To some extent, the healer could tell that the redhead’s body needed rest from overexerting.

But almost two weeks?

Who wouldn’t worry?

The only silver lining to all this is that it gave the Medicus some time to ponder about their feelings. Gave them time to think as to how they’d handle this garden called love whose flowers are blooming more and more in _____’s heart every day.

Ultimately they have decided to not do anything.

What _____ has concluded these days is that the form of love they want to give is support. For them that's what love is, supporting your loved ones even if he's unaware of their feelings. Being there whenever he needs them and expecting nothing in return.

And that’s exactly what the healer did.

They helped in any way they could. From healing the injured to helping with the paperwork. Sometimes Rosalyn and Raon had to remind _____ that they must rest, that they were overworking themself, and that the matters of the empire could wait until they got some rest.

_____ tries their best to listen. However, they would be seen doing the same thing again two days later.

“Cale seems to have like-minded people around him. Are you also not interested in a noble title?”

Alberu and  _____ are sitting across from each other. Both working on their own pile of paperwork.

“Under no circumstances was I ever interested in such things Your Highness. However more than that, I believe it would be unfair for our citizens if the Perduellio’s rise again when they got such a light sentence.”

The crown prince nodded in understanding. As someone who is always thinking about what’s best for the kingdom and its citizens, he could tell where the healer is coming from.

However, there’s a mistake in what _____ said.

A light sentence? That’s far from the truth.

Even thinking about what happened to that family sends a shiver down the quarter Dark Elf’s spine.

The official statement for what happened to the Perduellios is that the entire family have been stripped of their title and all their assets have been seized by the crown. As far as everyone knows they are now somewhere living as peasants.

But isn’t it weird that no one has seen them?

Cale has been… looking after them, for the lack of a better word. Alberu may not know the full story but he surely knows the extent of the young master’s anger.

He low-key wishes he could erase from his mind the condition of that cell and its inhabitants.

“However Medicus-nim, are you aware that you can’t live in hiding forever?”

Alberu pushes his other thoughts away. Why bother dwelling on them when only he, Cale, Tasha, and Beacrox know what happened? For now, he’ll focus on this paperwork and his conversation with the healer.

“Very much so your highness. I have lived my entire life hiding. What is a few years more?”

_____ paused for a second to take a second look at the document they are currently reading.

“However your Highness, the same thing cannot be said for you. This is prime time for you and the other Dark Elves.”

Alberu lets out a hearty laugh at that.

“Of course Medicus-nim. Yet you got one thing wrong. This is also a prime time for you. Worry not as I will surely allow you to live as Roan Kingdom’s Medicus once more. Consider it as my reward for putting up with a certain redhead.”

_____ tried to deny it. Tried to say that they did not need such things. Nonetheless, Alberu did not relent. He and Cale had already agreed that they would let this poor healer live out their life after being used like a tool since childhood.

Plus the blonde is seriously getting tired of Cale ranting about how suffocated _____ is having to wear a mask all the time even if they don’t complain.

"It's fine to be greedy sometimes you know? Sometimes it's all right to take whatever it is you want."

Alberu did not look at _____ as he spoke. Instead, he's looking at the unconscious commander on the luxurious bed.

_____, who understood what the crown prince meant, felt embarrassed. Their face turned into a light hue of pink as they thought of a retort.

However, Alberu did not let them do so. He simply motioned over to the healer with his glance before continuing the paperwork in his hands. _____ followed suit, and soon the room was filled with silence again, the only exceptions being the rustling of papers and their pens scribbling.

bonus-ish: sometimes I can't help but comment while I'm wrting lol

[mysteryanimator]

ANIMATION BREAKDOWN PROCESS OF THIS LETS GO (Sorry for any grammatical errors!)

SCRIPT/STORYBOARD: (you can watch here)

Now THIS. The script was very weak because I wanted to board immediately, so it started strong then fell off at the end (also generally I'm not a stronger writer, which haha fics my beloved). Now I know this, spending more time simmering with the script will genuinely only 1) stronger compositions for storyboards 2) it will be so much faster to board. Like I can board fast, but I can board fast AND well if I sit with the idea a bit longer. This will be a massive running theme how I like my shots earlier rather than further in.

side note I LIKE PANEL 11 A LOT, I just feeI didn't translate it well enough into animation which sucks because its a pretty panel and you get a softer moment from Olrox which I found was important to get across.

Also at some point, the 180 rule (which keeps characters on like one line behind the camera... not sure if I worded that right) gets broken and it bugged me for AGES but decided I had to just move on LOL.

These are my thumbnails b4 I go to animatic/cleaned storyboards which are SO MESSY (I'm a lot better at annotating my thumbs now LOL). The original prompt was top service blood bag x powerbottom vampire and i don't think i portrayed that well enough throughout BUT i think the intro did a good establishment. Which fun fact, this was scrapped but there was actually 20 seconds of Mizrak eyeing Olrox "What is it like? Blood?" Then Olrox leans down and commences the thigh glide.

These backgrounds are a mix of texture-bashing (walls/floors) along with some good ol' painting materials from scratch. Also, these are olddd and I can do a lot better yay, but was a good test to see how to make a consistent-ish scene.

ANIMATION: (You can watch the rough anim here)

I'll be super upfront how I don't like most of it AHHA. From starting this in July to posting this in September, I've improved a lot since then.

Since this was a bit ago, I don't remember too much but I remember going ham onto learning material from Dong Chang and animation servers. However in all honesty I think this was only really applied to the earlier shots. I got super frustrated with my "slow speed" so I tried to jump ship and do cleans super early on, which like lets be honest- pumping out two rough anims a day with uni on top is not slow idk what I was on about. This ended up giving me MORE work during the line/colour stage PFFT because I would end up correcting my mistakes in my roughs. Like Myst stop, this is for fun and you're learning, please take it easy LOLOL.

COMPOSITING:

Working on compositing this time around was slightly different, and I'll also admit it is not my favorite composite I've done (and again, I like my earlier shots then my later shots). My after-effects layers looked insane keeping track of the highlight glows on their clothes BUT it definitely paid off. Skin tones however were SO DIFFICULT (mostly in part to the fact I decided to experiment with how I approached it, so it definitely skewed how I worked with this)

I also definitely struggled between the dreamy look and keeping it clean and crisp, and while the dreamy blurred aesthetic does work in some cases, I opted out for the sake of clarity.

Beloved edge light my friend. It's making me learn SUPER late into it how I probably should have planned out a third shadow pass since edge light at the point is a crutch and I think planning it out ahead would get nicer more precise shadows LOL.

Because I brain rotted so hard for this animation I actually commissioned two people to help me work on this! I'll briefly talk about their stuff but please check out their work!

MUSIC: Astralbardkeep

Due the fact I don't have voiceactors, and I had a very specific vision in mind, I decided to go "you know what, let me be super self-indulgent". I had a lot of notes and inspirations for the music, BUT i wanted to have Olrox's theme from the original games peek through, which you will notice happens at the bite AND at the end.

TITLE CARD: Hataui0

This might've seemed overkill, but this friend of mine is very talented at making graphics/typography to suit the requirements of each individual project. (Also a secret ploy to make him make nocturne fanart /lh). So that entire end bit, he illustrated it along with that title, in which the themes I bestowed him were Mucha and Gothic art.

Thank you for reading if you got this far! Suffice to say this was supposed to be a compare and contrast between the animation I did in February, and while I may not quite find this body of work up to my normal standards, it substantial amount of improvement, which is the most important thing here! With the ten billion other things in my life going on, I can only be happy with the progress thus far :D

February on the left/September on the right