#the Thing from The Thing wouldn’t be nearly as scary if we knew exactly what it was and where it came from and what kind of creature it is

[bonetrousled]

I love how you made the Halloween event non-canon by basically just saying "oh, don't worry, flowey's just gonna reset after this anyway" even though messing around with the timeline is what got us into this mess In the first place...

i can’t tell if this is like. passive aggressive or not but the timeline being “off” in the beginning of the parchy blog is very heavily implied to have nothing to do w actual messing around, it was because papyrus was Gotten by the Goo and thus left a Big Gap in the map of possibilities bc an entire person went missing. alphys’s speculation on what parchment is (her theory that it might be because Of some kind of residue from timeline problems) is entirely her own idea and is not confirmation on where parchy came from or what made it in the first place

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Parry but thwh fell out aftee darry and him had a fight because he laughed at some kids, KID Greasers jumping, (he laugher out of awkwardness) and darry took it as a sign he though it was ok and processed it as a threat ti the gang ESPECIALLY Ponyboy.

They fought alot. It was scary because Both Soda and Pony where homd, and classes and plates got broke, shattered, and lots if door slammimg and threats where thrown at each other. Things where said to a point

darry cried.

Hm, ok, so this isn't EXACTLY this but I saw this ask and my brain was like minific! so...minific. Hope you like it!

***************

“I’m telling you man,” Paul is saying, “the giants have got it in the bag this year, have you seen their defense?”

“No way,” Darry shakes his head, “the Bears are consistent and they’ve got Wade as QB, no way they aren’t taking the superbowl.”

“Wade is fine but he’s not better than-”

He’s cut off by the door slamming open. Normally Darry would have half a mind to yell at whoever slammed it because mom always blamed him and Two for it when Steve and Pony were the biggest culprits, but any thoughts of teasing are forgotten as Steve sprints down the hall without even a hello, Soda right on his heels. Darry’s used to the gang bursting in at all hours of the day and night, it’s how their house works, but something about this feels off. His suspicions are confirmed when Steve hurtles back out again a second later holding the first aid kit. 

“Whoa!” Darry grabs Soda’s shoulder before he can follow, pulling him to a stop, “what’s going’ on?”

“Joey Dubois got jumped,” Soda gasps out, chest heaving, “it’s pretty bad.”

“Aaron’s kid brother?” Darry’s heart drops, “But…but he’s ten!”

“Yeah,” Soda’s grim, “I know.”

“You need any help?”

“Nah. Pony’s sittin’ with him right now, and between Dally and Tim Shepard we got enough muscle keepin’ Aaron from doin’ something he’ll regret. ‘Sides,” Soda shoots a cold glare at Paul, “your buddy here shows his face and he’ll probably lose some teeth. Aaron’s gang is out for blood.”

He claps Darry on the shoulder and then he’s gone, jumping off the porch steps and running after Steve.

“Shit,” Darry sinks into a chair, previous conversation forgotten, and buries his head in his hands. Joey Dubois. He can see the kid in his head, a little guy with a mop of dark curls and a grin that spelled trouble. Him and Pony buddied it around sometimes, and Darry had always thought it was funny when his own kid brother would complain about having to put up with Joey always following him around. Lord knew Pony followed him and Johnny and Soda around the same way. The thought of the bright eyed kid being jumped nearly made Darry sick. He was hardly the first real little kid to ever be jumped in their neighbourhood, and wouldn’t be the last, but it didn’t make it any easier to stomach.

“So anyway,” Paul says, like Soda hadn’t just interrupted and told them about a literal child being jumped, “Wade isn’t as good a kicker as Tittle–”

“--Paul” Darry grits through clenched teeth, “I don’t want to talk about football right now.”

“What?” Paul scoffs a little, “why?”

“Did you not hear what Soda just said?”

“Some kid got jumped. So what? Happens all the time."

“He’s ten.”

“Dar,” Paul laughs a little, “it’s not a big deal. Yeah he’s ten but so what? He was probably asking for it.”

Darry's jaw tightens..

Usually, his friendship with Paul is easy. They get along better than Darry gets along with just about anyone, they have the same interests, share the same sense of humour and the same desperation to get out of Tulsa Oklahoma no matter what it takes. Sometimes their friendship is so easy that Darry forgets what Paul is, forgets where he comes from. 

Paul Holden is a west side elite, as soc as it gets. And sometimes, like right now, he’s so fucking patronizing Darry could smack him. 

Say what you want about him, but Darry Curtis is not stupid, nor is he naive. He’s seen things on the east side that Paul could only dream of, for all he pretends to be normal, comes to their house and bums around the east side like an actor in a movie, looks at Darry’s world,  his friends and his family like they’re an intriguing thought experiment instead of Darry’s very real life. And people can think what they want about him but Darry Curtis is not ashamed of where he comes from. There’s a lot of shitty things about the east side, but there’s a lot of good people here too, and Paul doesn’t get to sit there in his letterman jacket with his madras shirt and act like Darry reacting to a ten year old kid getting jumped is some crazy, childish thing. 

“You do realize,” he can hear his voice rising, “that my own baby brother is only twelve, right? And that the only difference between him and Joey is luck? I know you have no skin in this game so you don’t give a flying fuck about anything, but you could at least pretend to care.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” Darry demands, “Like someone who cares about little kids getting hurt in my own fucking neighbourhood?”

“Like you’re a fucking greaser!” Pauls bursts out, and then suddenly it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Darry recovers first.

“Get out.”

“Darry-”

“I said get out.” 

“Darry I’m sorry I-”

“No,” Darry advances on him, trying so hard to control his temper he’s literally shaking, “no you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come here, to my house, in my neighbourhood, meet all my friends and my family, and then look down on me for it like I’m some sort of trash.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Paul begs, “I-”

“Yes you did,” Darry cuts him off. He can feel hot tears welling, the way they always do when he’s so furious it’s hard to think, but he forces them back, “you meant it, and I’m fucking glad you did because guess what? I am a greaser, and I wear that title like a badge of honour ‘cause at least it means I ain’t nothin’ like you!”

“You didn’t seem to want that title when I gave you that shirt did you?” Paul spits back, moved to anger himself. Good. Darry can face Paul's anger a lot easier than his repentance. “Or when you started hanging out with me and the rest of the guys from the football team, or when Tammy Crenshaw asked you to Sadie Hawkins!”

“Whatever,” Darry sneers, “I thought you were better than this but once an asshole always an asshole, huh? I can’t believe I thought you changed. You’re the same shallow, entitled, socy asshole you were back in ninth grade.”

“Fuck you!”

“Get outta my house,” Darry shoves him, hard, “and don’t ever fucking come back. I never wanna see you again.”

“Go to hell!” Paul storms down the steps, “and hey, tell that kid brother of yours to watch his back. Since you apparently think I’m such a piece of shit, I might as well prove it.”

The words hang heavy in the air. For a second, Darry almost can’t understand them strung together like that, the threat almost ludicrous coming from someone he’d considered one of his best friends, the only guy from his circle of west side football buddies he’s ever allowed into his house, ever introduced his family to. For all they’re arguing in this second, for all Darry doesn’t know if he could ever forgive him for his words and his cavalier attitude, he’d never believe Paul capable of doing something like that, of hurting his brother.

But Paul just said it. And Paul Holden never says anything he doesn’t completely mean.

Darry sees red.

The next thing he knows the skin of his knuckles is splitting against Paul’s nose and he’s screaming louder than he can remember screaming in a long time.

“You touch either one of them and I’ll kill you! You hear me? I’ll fucking kill you!”

He doesn’t realize he’s got Paul by the collar of his shirt until he feels multiple pairs of hands yanking him back, someone else tearing Paul away from him.

“That’s enough,” Soda’s back. He shoves Paul, lighter than Darry had but enough that it’s clear he means it, “you better get outta here Holden. Looks like you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

Paul spits at his feet. 

“You better watch your back Curtis.”

Soda’s eyes flash. He’s only fourteen but he’s grown half a foot this summer alone, and right now he looks nothing but tough, cold and fierce.

“Unlike you I’ve got six buddies to watch it for me, so I think you’d better watch your back pal.”

The hands holding Darry release him, Steve moving to flank Soda, Dally and Ponyboy on either side of him, all of them- even twelve year old Pony- just a little in front of Darry.

“Beat it Holden,” Steve tells Paul in that low, deadly voice he only uses when he’s real mad, the one that’s ten times scarier than any of his hollering, “if we have to ask again we won’t be so polite.”

Paul's last glare is cutting but he leaves, eyes like quicksilver as he turns away, and Darry finds himself hoping he’ll run into Aaron Dubois or his gang on his way back to the west side. 

When he's out of sight Dally spits on the ground and lights a cigarette, eyes cold and dangerous.

“C’mon, Dar,” Soda claps him on the shoulder, his smile only a little dimmer than usual, “Johnny and Two went to go see if they could russell up a car for the drag race tonight, and you know mom won’t let Pony watch unless you come with us.”

Darry follows his friends- his real friends- down the street, ruffles his brothers’ hair, and quietly mourns a person he thought he knew.

None of the gang ask what happened, not even Ponyboy. Darry doesn’t tell them, and if he sniffles a bit on the walk to the old rodeo grounds where the race is taking place, well, at least he's quiet enough that no one could possibly notice.

[idontplaytrack]

hi!! could i request a fluffy rosa diaz x reader fic where reader works as a detective at the precinct and rosa kind of has a soft spot for her (more like a crush on her), so when rosa gets sick like in that one episode reader finally convinces rosa to admit she doesn’t feel good and takes her home and takes care of her? tysm!!

✧ Hermosa

Rosa Diaz x detective fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, fluff, implied smut at the end

Thank you for your request! :)

You clocked in at exactly nine o’clock that morning. Right on time, you looked at the desk opposite of yours and it was empty. “Amy, has Rosa come in yet?”

“Oh. No.” Amy’s eyes widen briefly, shocked.

“Oh, wow. Rosa’s not here yet? Doesn’t she stay like really near here?” Jake remarked.

“Yes she does.” Gina chimed in, “Her apartment is the closest to the precinct.”

“Is she not coming to work today?” Amy asks you.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have asked you.”

“Right.” Amy smiled sheepishly, focusing back on her work.

“She hasn’t texted you or anything?” Jake carries on the conversation with you while you got settled.

“No, I just thought she was already here-” Before you could say anything else, hurried footsteps interrupted your train of thought. Your eyes followed the sound, which turned out to be Rosa who’d just arrived.

“Holy shit, girl.” Gina broke the silence as the rest of the squad watched her, bewildered, “You look like hell.” Rosa scowled, sitting down in her chair.

You’d been glaring at her since the moment she sat down across from you. Rosa shot you a look meaning for you to drop it and leave her alone. That was the end of that conversation for a bit. Meanwhile, she was sniffly and sneezed a handful of times. Not to mention she looks pale as a sheet. She somehow made it to lunch before you got so annoyed that you pulled her aside, “Will you just admit you’re sick and let me take you home?”

“y/n, I’m fine. Diaz’s don’t get sick.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you then? Just trying a new makeup look for Halloween?” You huffed.

Rosa chuckles. “What’s so funny?” You ask, almost offended.

“Ha ha.” She responded, “You’re not scary.”

“Rosa!” You nearly rolled your eyes, “You’re sick, please just let me take you home so you can rest? The last thing I want is you passing out on the gross precinct floors.”

“Wait a minute-” Rosa got all serious for a second, “You said ‘please’?”

“What?” You asked, puzzled.

“You asked if you could please take me home.” She pointed out.

“So?”

“So, okay.” She shrugged, “Whatever.”

“Okay?” You repeated, not expecting her to agree.

“Rosa’s going home?” Jake gasps, “Oh, she so likes you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Rosa complains, tossing an eraser at him.

“I’ve been watching you two, Diaz.” Gina added on, “Very flirty~”

You tried to hide a blush that very clearly still showed. “You two would be great together.” Charles chimed in, “So great.”

“Also, that height difference is mwah- perfect.” Gina wasn’t done.

“I agree.” Amy shrugged, “Rosa’s always had like a soft spot for you. From the day you started, even.”

“Wow, you guys are suddenly experts, huh?” Rosa scoffed, “Let’s go, y/n. Ignore them- they’re a bunch of kids.”

————

As Rosa laid on her couch, you were at the stove cooking her some soup. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” You glanced at her over your shoulder.

“Do you buy what they say?”

“What do you mean?” You asked nervously.

“Do you think they’re right? That I’ve had a crush on you since you joined our squad?”

You stayed quiet for a minute, stirring the soup. “Um…you’re not gonna beat me up depending on my answer, are you?”

“What?” Rosa guffaws, and ended up coughing. “No, that’s crazy.”

“Well, if I’m being honest. I hope they are, because literally- god, this is going to sound so stupid.”

“Oh, just say it.” Rosa insisted, grabbing a tissue to blow her nose.

“Over time, I’ve found myself liking you as more than a friend. But- despite all the time we spend together while on the job, I realise I still don’t really know you. But I mean, the squad thinks we’re best friends. And I’d like to think that we’re close because you haven’t threatened to chop me up yet and compared to how you are with the rest of them, don’t you see a difference? I mean, do you?” You panicked at the end.

Now Rosa was stunned into silence. That was a first. “Honestly…I didn’t even realise what I was doing. It just naturally happened over time- Holt kept partnering us up and little by little, we got closer.” She began, “I guess…I didn’t dare to take a bigger step to actually flirt with you because I get so nervous, I suck at it. And- I didn’t know if you were attached or not so I didn’t want to weird you out either.”

She’s never one to talk about her feelings- she says it makes her want to throw up. But she actually opened up and talked to you. You were shocked, then you were somewhat…honoured. Maybe also a little smug that you managed to get that out of her.

You turned the stove off, grabbing a bowl and a spoon. “I’m not seeing anyone and I’ve never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend before.” You admit, she walks over to the kitchen- to you, and wrapped her arms around you from behind. “You’re the first person that I’ve fallen for so quickly and so hard, it feels terrifying, but also equally exciting. But I just- I really didn’t know and didn’t want to say anything because I was afraid of the outcome.” You managed to say before her grip around you tightened fully, and she’d rested her chin on your shoulder.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” She asked softly as she watched you ladle a scoop of the chicken noodle soup into the bowl. You would’ve dropped the damn ladle if you weren’t so aware that she had her arms around you.

“Will I be your girlfriend?” You repeated her question in disbelief, “Oh, my God. Yes, Rosa.”

She chuckles into your ear, sending a chill down your spine and made you squirm, “I won’t kiss you because I don’t want you to get sick, but once I’m better, you’re about to get pampered, hermosa.” You asked her to let go of you so you could take the bowl over to the table, and she does.

“Eat with me.”

“Yeah, I will. Just gonna set this down for you first.” You told her.

Rosa tells you to return to the precinct after lunch, but you said no. “Holt let me. Besides, he says if they needed me, I’ll get a call. I don’t think he was expecting me to go back today, anyway.”

Rosa smirked, “What do you mean, y/n?”

“What I mean, is that he seems to know about your little crush on me.”

“No he doesn’t.”

You snorted, “Please- he so does. Yesterday, I was out with him for a case. He asked me directly if I liked you and if I’d noticed that you’ve been extra nice to me. Also, it was very funny to see that look on his face when I dragged you into his office so he could see how pale you were.”

“Hilarious.” Rosa agreed, “Thanks- for making me the soup and making me come home.”

“No problem.” You smiled, eating a spoonful of the food.

“Look, this soup is great, but why couldn’t we get pizza?”

“That dairy’s just gonna make you more congested.” You pointed out. “Like I would care.”

“You might not, but I do. I’m the one that’s taking care of you and having to deal with your whining.”

“My whining?” She gasps dramatically, “God, y/n. I think that’d be you. We made out at the New Year’s party and you were whiny freaking mess.”

You blushed thinking about the memories of that night. “Speechless?” She teased, “What do you say you get us dinner tonight and I’ll give you a little thank-you? I might be sick and can’t kiss you, but there’s a lot I can do with just my hands.”

“I’ll think about it.” You shrug, a smirk creeping onto your face.

[projectbluearcadia]

Prologue

Barbatos is cleaning Diavolo’s study while the latter sits in a chair scanning a document titled “Magic Curriculum for Humans.” 

Belphie: FUCK!

Diavolo and Barbatos hear a crash from the hallway, and Barbatos looks up from the lamp he’s cleaning and sighs before he leaves the room. Diavolo chuckles. 

Diavolo: Don’t be too harsh with him, Barbatos.   

Barbatos: Understood. 

Barbatos finds Belphegor in a maid uniform, standing over a broken vase with water splashed all over the floor and several petals torn off from the flowers that had once been inside the vessel. Belphegor himself is panting and flushed. 

Barbatos: Are you quite finished? 

Belphie: Don’t come a step closer!

Barbatos: Why is that? 

Belphie: Something’s... wrong. It feels like my skin is on fire. Every single sensation is too intense to bear. I can barely move, breathe, think. 

Belphegor shudders, his hands thudding against the wall as he pants and gasps, and Barbatos stands there for a long moment before he gives a soft groan. 

Barbatos: Every time...

Diavolo leaves his study to investigate. 

Diavolo: Is Belphegor okay?

Barbatos: Short answer, no. 

Barbatos takes off his gloves and replaces them with latex ones before he takes a mask out from his pocket and covers his face. 

Barbatos: I suppose it contaminated the water... that was how I missed it... 

Diavolo: Missed what?

Barbatos hands Diavolo a more durable mask. 

Barbatos: I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but I’d strongly recommend you wear this. And... you must temporarily evacuate. 

Barbatos winces, even as Diavolo puts on the mask Barbatos gave him. 

Barbatos: Quickly.

Diavolo: Barbatos?  

Barbatos: I said QUICKLY!

Barbatos claps loudly, and Diavolo jumps, startled before he does an about face and leaves the castle. Barbatos pinches the bridge of his nose as Belphegor groans on the floor, curled into a ball. 

Barbatos: Goddammit. 

—

Annelie: And that’s why you showed up at our doorstep like a lost puppy?

Diavolo: Yes... I can’t imagine what’s going on, but Barbatos hasn’t answered any of my calls since he forced me out.  

Annelie: ...I have the strangest feeling this is my fault. 

Lucifer: Don’t say that. 

Annelie: Do you think something happened to Barbatos? Or Belphie? 

Lucifer: ...Annelie, you’re making both of us anxious. Calm down. 

Annelie: Sorry, I’ll just take a few deep breaths...

Count to ten, count to seventy by seven, 7, 14, 21...

Lucifer: For the time being, we’ll wait and see. Barbatos is the type of person that would sooner crawl back missing an arm and a leg than sit down and die. 

Annelie: Are you saying Barb wouldn’t die even if you killed him?

Lucifer: Exactly. 

Annelie: I was already scared of him before... 

Diavolo: ...he’s always been a little scary. 

Diavolo laughs, and Annelie and Lucifer look at each other. Annelie steps behind Diavolo and places her hand against his back. 

It’s faint, but... he’s trembling. 

Annelie: Satan just baked the most adorable cupcakes you’ve ever seen, and I’m sure he’d be thrilled to hear you enjoyed them.

Diavolo: Weren’t you on your way out?

Annelie: Were we? I don’t remember. 

Lucifer: We weren’t. 

Lucifer turns towards the foyer. 

Lucifer: I’ll make tea. 

Monologue

As I led Diavolo into the House of Lamentation, making small talk with him to try to distract him from his worries, the tension under my fingertips never released. It was the first time I ever saw Diavolo look so unsure and hurt. But who could blame him, when someone like Barbatos showed a hint of uncertainty?

Lucifer was concerned, and like me, was trying to keep his anxiety far at bay, where it couldn’t influence either of us. Though we had decided not to inform Lucifer’s brothers of what had happened just yet to prevent any undue stress, it was obvious that they knew something was amiss even with their brother’s nearly perfect acting. 

Looking back, I keep wondering if what I did at that time was correct. Would things have turned out differently if we had gone out for lunch as planned?

[lyanth-publishing-house]

"A dragon and a demon? Together? no way." Headcanons

A/N: or just canon since they’re mine…. anywho Hi! I got overly excited and wanted to gush about Monica and Verioth on main so here we go!

And if u saw the other post? No u didn’t.

Warnings(?): Somewhat yandere tendencies…?, casually glossed over death threats and violence, vaguely mentioned dragon shenanigans, scary monster x even scarier monster (guess who’s who)

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ah, Verioth

My sweet, 7’7, dragon shifter…

He loves his wife.

His scary, dream demon wife.

That’s it, that’s the post.

No but for real though he’s absolutely whipped—

And tbh? Monica is no better.

She’d do anything just to see him smile really. Even murder.

Especially murder.

They’re a bit…unhinged.

It’s fine.

Despite all of that, they didn’t get off on the right foot exactly…

With Monica appearing on the Isle suddenly, and Verioth nearly killing her…

“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

“If I wanted you dead? You’d be dead.”

And once she said that? Demon eyes and all?

He. Was. Gone.

Forever.

Developed the absolute worst crush that got even worse once they were out of the eternal enemies stage and into the “we hang out sometimes” stage.

Verioth is a dragon, what do you want from him? He likes his women violent.

There are also other, more lore-heavy reasons for that but spoilers people spoilers.

But yeaaahhh before they got married (among other things) he was down bad.

Again they went through the whole enemies to friends to lovers pipeline he was in it deep for a while.

And he didn’t even realize it half of the time tbh.

“What are you talking about? She lives here of course I’m going to be nice.”

“We hang out sometimes it’s not that big of a deal.”

“I don’t— I’m not staring at her—”

When he does finally acknowledge it he’s a nervous wreck btw. He avoided her for 2 weeks, much to her confusion.

“We had movie night…”

He felt awful and came right back :’)

And btw Monica didn’t have it easy either.

She also didn’t realize she had a crush on him until it was too late.

They were just hanging out one day and she told a stupid joke and he laughed

She watched as the corners of his lips quirked up a bit before he finally broke down and it did something to her.

She just wanted to hear his laugh all day for the rest of her lif—

Oh nO–

They were besties with a lot of feelings

A lot of pent-up feelings that they refused to address.

Much to the distress of the others.

“She likes you back.” “You’re seeing things.”

“He’s been in love with you for months!” “I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed.” “You two are lovestruck idiots, of course, you haven’t!”

Oblivious little dummies.

And then one day they went out on a “not date”, got cornered by some mercenaries who were wildly unprepared, and then one major adrenaline-fueled makeout session later—

Yeah, they dating.

And they didn’t tell their shared friend group for about a year (15 months their time) because they knew they wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“Heyy Monnie, have you seen Verioth anywhere?”

“Nope, haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

A few moments later…..

“think he bought it?”

And once the cat got out of the bag? they found out they placed bets.

One half thought Monica was gonna fess up first

The others thought Verioth would crack under pressure

And only Oz, our other resident giant of a man (dragon technically) said they’d probably figure it out at the same time

Safe to say his collection of gold got bigger that day.

They’re a mess. But they absolutely love each other and that’s all that matters.

————-

A/N: I just love them sm dude ;-; thanks for reading!

[ironbonds]

Drabble based on this post by @playertwotails​

It wasn’t supposed to be something hard, the two of them were just going into town to pick up materials and parts for him to continue working on his newest inventions. It wasn’t supposed to be something trauma inducing or otherwise scary, but very shortly after he’d handed the list to Sonic to tell him ( or the shop keeper ) exactly what he’d needed, he was stopped by a familiar voice.

Sure, he’d met plenty of people in his life, lots of them were amazed that their hero’s partner in crime was so young. Others were surprised to learn that he was the same Miles Prower that made a lot of the things they saw either being used by the other heroes or that they themselves owned. He was a kit of many talents and it was nice for people to ask him questions that he could answer confidently. And sure he met some people he knew from West Side Island, but most of the time they seemed either ambivalent or outright ignored him.

Both of those suited him just fine, he didn’t really care to talk to those who’d treated him so poorly before Sonic came along and all but stole him away for adventure and a lifetime of eternal stress. Tails wouldn’t change it for the world. It was the last of the scenarios that bothered him, so rare that he had only ever experienced it once before, and on that occasion Sonic had been by his side to deflect the situation and prompt any harassers to leave as quickly as they’d arrived.

This was not one of those moments... unfortunately.

Of course the two foxes that he could have come across would be the two that he wanted nothing to do with. He shouldn’t have recognized them, it’d been nearly a decade since he’d seen either of them, and while his amber fur was rather distinctive along side the twin tails that gave him his nickname, they looked like everyone else.

He shouldn’t have noticed him, but he did, even before they had recognized him. 

Tails tried to leave, and failed. 

He barely heard them calling for him, only felt the gentle hand on his shoulder turning him around and the faces of those he’d rather not have to see again. And initially he thought it might be alright. They didn’t seem like they cared too much that he was someone with status and he preferred that. But the way they called his name was... less than kind. 

A hint of distaste, and aggression.

Like no time had passed.

Sure, he fought Eggman and Cyber corruption, went up against Infinite and received scars from the jackal, created any number of amazing things to help in combat and in day to day life. But the bullies who knew him at his lowest? They brought about a primal fear in him, freezing like he’d been dunked in water and left at Ice Cap. Normally foxes fought back when scared, but Tails had long since learned that it was not the correct way to go. So instead he shut down, didn’t respond to them but in single word responses.

“ HEY, MILES! LONG TIME NO SPEAK. “ The voice was saccharine sweet, unpleasant to listen to when he knew what it was capable of. At least Eggman didn’t hide his intent. “ WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT YOU. HOW COME YOU NEVER CAME BACK TO VISIT? “

For a moment he couldn’t find his voice, though Tails barely managed to squeak out a quiet “ Too busy. “ 

He couldn’t hear himself, not over the sound of his heart and the loud shrill laughter of his tormentors.

‘ honestly, how busy could you be? your buddy is the fastest thing alive, he could just run ya back over to see us. i know what it is... you think you’re too good for us! ‘ The grip on his shoulder tightened, just on the other side of painful, and he couldn’t help the little whine that came from him. ‘ honestly, you should be thankin’ us. you never woulda gone on all those adventures with sonic. ‘

The words were in one ear and out the other, barely processing the taunts in favor of maintaining control over the illusion spell he was holding. It was too new for him to do subconsciously, to hold it without conscious thought. And the tighter that grip got and the more they touched and pushed him around under the guise of old friends, the harder it got to hold it.

The last thing he wanted was for them to find out he had far more than two tails.

They wouldn’t have the chance, the almost too strong gust of air and the flash of blue coming between him and the other foxes. Their stunned silence was loud, but the quiet questions being spoken between him and his brother were enough to soothe his frayed nerves. Just a quick “ Are you ok? “ and waiting for a nod before he turned to look at the foxes -- Bramble and Kilo, he actually remembered -- and had a hushed conversation with them.

The only thing he can think of is that he’s happy that Sonic is here, and by the time he’s back to reality, he’s no where near where he was before, off in a park with Sonic hiding him from view. Tails can’t quite stop his eyes from tearing up a little, endlessly relieved that his brother was here to keep him safe.

“ ...shouldn’t have let them bother me. ‘m not the same helpless little kit I was then... “

@sxnicthehedgehxg​ & @spiinsparks​ cause you two seemed excited for this.

[eyeopeningarchivist]

Statement of Marjorie Evans

Concerning: What she describes as "The Backrooms"

Original Statement taken 4th November, 2010

Transcription by: Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist, Magnus Inst. London (1818)

Statement begins....

I knew it wasn’t right, the buzzing lights above making it clear I wasn’t home. I rolled over to find carpet beneath me. I also couldn’t be at work as there should have been tile. I opened my eyes to a dim, grungy room bathed in a sickly yellow. The air felt thick and sticky, reeking of mildew. The carpet was damp and it appeared the wet had crept into the wall as it was starting to rot. The foulness permeated everything in this soggy and sparsely furnished place. I made to stand and a little water pooled around my fingers. It was yellow too, though from the carpet or the lights or something somehow more repulsive I’d rather not know. I finally looked around and knew at once where I was, a chill settling over me despite the muggy atmosphere... The Backrooms.

I kept my head down and kept moving, listening for anything in the corridors and hoping I’d find a way out rather than a way deeper in. I wandered for a while, seeing an entity only once and it seemed wholly uninterested in me. After what felt like weeks but really must’ve only been a few hours I came upon a sort of chute. It looked like an air duct that had been opened for repairs and had never been put back together. Down appeared to be a bottomless drop with rushing wind coming up from the pit. I looked up and saw a ladder reaching up into darkness and took hold of the first rung, pulling myself up. I’d never heard of the way up but I was sure down lead to death.

I climbed long after there had been a screaming ache in my arms and I ended up closing my eyes, not noticing when the drowning murky stillness became the steady sweeping sting of salt water soaked concrete and it wasn’t until someone shouted to me to hold tight and stay calm that i realized i was out. I looked around and found myself clinging to the weather worn rung of a canal maintenance ladder, swirling black water below and the dreamland familiar building in the impossible distance. I was inches away from the icy embrace of the Thames, the biting cold making my hands hurt. I almost fell but the rescue team caught me and pulled me to safety. I’d been missing from my home in the states for two months and had hypothermia but I hadn’t actually been in the water.

I moved to London a month later, feeling like I was put back here for a reason...”

“Right...” The man sitting across from me said softly, looking a little quizzical but not like he thought I was lying. More like he was doing a difficult crossword. “You’re hired.” He said at last. “You’ll be working downstairs in the archive under Mr. Sims.”

Statement ends...

Notes:

Ms. Evans is currently an archival assistant here, showing high levels of competence and intelligence. It is clear by Elias’ immediate hiring of her that he believed her. She has asked not to make any further statements concerning her experience, saying only that it wasn’t nearly as scary as people say it is. It is my belief that she did not enter "the backrooms" but was instead a brief guest of The Spiral, possibly there by accident since she said in her statement that the single entity she encountered while she was there was either ignorant or uncaring of her existence. Normally The Spiral comes back for victims who escape in a matter of between six weeks and a year but it’s been much longer for her... Who knows, maybe she has some kind of protection. Maybe she’s a blind spot... It may be useful to find out for sure, The Spiral being a dangerous and unstable entity means we can’t really study it...

That said, her reluctance to even talk about it means she probably wouldn’t agree to that sort of thing anyway and we can’t exactly force her to. Besides, she’s too valuable to the Institute. She’s taken on a lot of work since she took the assistant position and she already reordered a whole shelf of statements to fit the system I’ve been trying to put together... She’s even managed to find some lost obituaries for some of the people we haven’t been able to track back down. She can speak fifteen languages and can read hieroglyphics, Sanskrit, Japanese, Chinese, Cyrillic, Greek, and Nordic runes. She has no time for frivolous activities or time wasting and she seems to be on excellent terms with everyone here including Elias... No small feat. I’ve even seen her discussing poetry tips with Martin in the break room. An enigma...

[museguided]

There it was. 

Yuu’s concern about the pain of separating again was completely valid, of course. In the past few days, Mika had nearly wished for the bond to vanish as if it were an infected limb to be severed—a visceral reaction he hadn’t experienced since his early years. But if their compromise existed only to relieve the ache, then what was the point of it all? He liked to think that he could have gotten used to it eventually if they had no further contact after that night.

It had felt like he was mourning, grieving with no hope of healing, as though he were constantly losing someone he loved day after day. It was too scary, much more so because he could scarcely remember his own suffering while standing so close to Yuu again.

But while he could completely understand not wanting to feel that way ever again, if they could help it, Mika couldn’t help but think that Yuu was only looking to lessen the pain however possible. He still wasn’t interested in kindling the spark between them to see how their relationship would grow. Such a thought sapped his hope, leaving an all too familiar void in place of his heart. 

“We should,” he carefully agreed. His blue eyes slipped away from Yuu, unwilling to reveal how much he continued to affect him. He took a few more books in his arms to finish his own task, knowing it must have looked odd to find two grown men talking about their supposed relationship between two shelves of merchandise for toddlers. With his blind selection in hand, he took the one he gave Yuu back and nodded to lead them out of the kids aisle and toward the register.

“It wouldn’t make much sense if we had to stay close together to avoid being hurt.” He gave a half shrug at the thought. “You’d think we would have heard more complaints about it if that were the case.” Although he had felt much more at ease even when he hadn’t realized Yuu was near him until he made himself known. Even if they did get along amicably, he refused to believe that they could never part from each other again without experiencing discomfort. 

While it was a romantic, chaotic idea, society as they knew it would probably be in flames. 

Mika snorted at the thought. When it was his turn to purchase, he opted for a large paper bag to hold the several books in his possession. Then he turned his attention back to Yuu, finding himself still unable to properly focus on his face, much less his eyes. He fell back hard on his professional demeanor to keep up a casually pleasant expression, even as he adjusted his tight grip on the fragile strips that made up the handle of his purchase.

“Just in case, we should plan around it,” he said, quickly adding, “until it’s something we can get used to.” He didn’t want Yuu to think that he still wished for something akin to a genuine relationship, not until he understood exactly what Yuu wanted from him. In a way, he could think of it like a business deal—cutting out his emotions in favor of benefiting each other in the long run. “Maybe it’s just something we feel so intensely because it’s still new to us.”

He wasn’t too interested in looking up the symptoms of soulmates as if they were diseased. The thought sickened him too much to add unnecessary concerns to the mix. Everyone experienced things differently, and they would just have to find their own way around it. 

Realizing he had started worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, he released it and shook his head. “Anyway, do you have a place in mind? It’s been a while since I’ve been to this area.” It had been years, in fact, and while some things looked the same, the infrastructure and businesses were constantly changing around him.

Mika probably hadn't meant it as a shot at him. Or at least, probably not as harsh of one as it came across. But it still felt almost like a gut punch and he couldn't hide a wince as a result. Hell, he deserved that though.. He was the one to walk away and resist without giving Mika a chance. Of course there'd be a tense awkwardness between them now. One even more palpable than the last time they met.

Past that awkwardness though, that relief from the pain and the warmth between them was a welcome balm. Things had been rough since he walked off.. In more ways than one. And the irony wasn't lost on him that running to avoid pain had only resulted in worse pain than he'd ever experienced before.

That was why Yuu barely spared a look at the book he was given at first. There were still questions he had about why, Mika was even in this section. But he let them pass as he had before, figuring it wasn't any of his business as a "friend". Besides, something else worried him more.

It would be so easy if he were to take the offered proverbial olive branch and start over from here. Well not entirely easy, Yuu still wasn't entirely convinced he could trust that Mika wouldn't eventually get tired of him and leave him behind. But he remembered the soft ways the other man had looked at him. He remembered the pain he saw from his peripheral that night he ran out of the restaurant. Not only that but the answering interest when Yuu came onto him so strongly. If he was acting he was damn good at it, but he was starting to think he wasn't acting at all.

But there was still something more pressing.. Something that worried him even now, even as he accepted the book offered to him.

A book for kids not one kid. Two? Maybe more? Relatives or his? No focus. That can be figured out in due time.

"I think we should talk.." he quietly said, eyes finally dropping to the cover of the book. "There's no pain right now, but will it come back when we go our separate ways later you think?"

Or would it ease off and stay gone this time with Yuu not actively pushing him away? He wasn't sure and he didn't exactly have anyone to ask. Nor was his research all that helpful either. People didn't typically reject their soulmates after they found them. The closest he'd gotten to anything answering his question was from people describing the pain they felt when their soulmate was seriously injured or passed away. Those of course had been from the older people of the population.

He had to admit, he felt sorry for those people. They said that the pain hadn't ever left, it just got easier to manage with help from medicine later on. Along with the sympathy came more fear though. There were some posters who had described the pain in great detail and how it eventually shifted past just the emotional and became physical. It was terrifying..!

That was the side of this whole soulmate bond that no one talked about. Outside of those forums that is.

[multistoty]

@fallingpoppies​

Hope knew that she had scared Klaus slightly with her entrance which was why she had apologized originally. All the adults in her family seemed to be battle ready at the drop of the hat. She had cried for what felt like hours worrying about her dreams. The tribrid wasn’t exactly certain about who had taken her dad away for the last few years, but he had shown that he would keep her safe from all the bad things. It was easy for her to see that he thought himself some sort of monster. It was only that she knew better. No one who could love so fully could ever be truly evil. If he wanted to play villain, she would just have to follow and pull him back to the light. He was the moon glimmering at her lake and pulling the tide towards him. The auburn haired seven year old noticed absentmindedly that her drawing was slightly smooshed in her hands though her father never seemed to mind anything like that. The Mikealson witch felt like the most beautiful and talented person under the bright gaze of his vivid blue eyes that made hers their echo. The hour was late for sure. Elijah was usually walking the halls by now or talking with her dad. Maybe it was the unnatural silence that had truly unnerved the seven year old. Her two stuffed animals were pressed tightly in her hands as sweat made her pajamas stick to her skin. Sleep clouding her excited gaze as she took him in. She didn’t have to be told twice letting her bunny slippers find a home in the dark area next to his bed. Depositing her stuffed wolf and the rabbit Elijah had given her as a child like body guards on the bed between them. She never slept without them. Grandma mary had given her the wolf though hadn’t much liked it when she named it after her dad and insisted on hugging it every night until he returned. Then it just became another friend and picture of his love just as the bunny had been. She was still new to this situation with her dad and hadn’t wanted to overwhelm him or make him feel bad. She’d even tried to bother her mother instead but the door was locked and Elijah’s snores courted her. She knew that nothing would put her at ease until Klaus came into view. It was clear that he felt bad about missing things and she didn’t want to make that any worse. It had all been a boy overwhelming. The family had been her and her mom with ocassional entrances of Grandma Mary. It had doubled even tripled again since then. “I need you to lift me up. Unfortunately, I am still short. It’s a drawing of us wolves. We haven’t had many things in the farm house because we have been in hiding though you have even less. When mom said that she was coming back with you, I knew that you wouldn’t have any pictures of us either. So I made one. I’m not nearly as good as you, of course. It’s still scary sometimes. I know that we are hiding from someone and it’s why I have to wear my bracelet or mom had to leave me with grandma mary. I was smart enough to know those coffins must be the people who mom told stories about. Even uncle Elijah, I’m not sure if he likes me very much. He doesn’t really smile ever.  You will always be here. Always and forever? I know we aren’t supposed to hate people, but I hate them. I don’t think they knew how much I would love you.”

[sukirichi]

— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.

PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader

REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy 

WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story

NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty

WC: 5.4k+

The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.

Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.

Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.

He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.

You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.

“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah!”

“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”

“Yeah!”

“What makes you think you’re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”

He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”

“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”

“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.

Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.

“What exactly do you know about this industry?”

“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”

The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”

“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”

“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”

“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”

“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”

“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.

Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”

It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.

You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!

“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won’t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”

“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”

“You trying to say something?”

You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”

Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.

You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.

Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.

The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.

He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”

“Oh, thank you. You are...?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.

“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”

Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Whoa, you made all this?!”

Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”

At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”

“You can – if you book an appointment.”

“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.

“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”

You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”

That was the biggest lie of your life.

The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.

You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.

And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.

In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.

“Hey, Y/N, you free?”

You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.

“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”

“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”

You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.

He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.

It wasn’t much, but you���d have to make do.

“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”

“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.

Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.

“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”

“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.

Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.

You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?

“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.

“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”

“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”

“Sukuna?”

“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”

“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.

Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”

He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”

“How sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.

He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.

You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.

Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.

Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.

You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.

One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.

Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”

Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”

Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”

“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Can I see your tattoos too?”

“Why do you want to see them?”

“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”

“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”

“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.

“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”

“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.

A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.

You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”

Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”

You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”

“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”

“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”

Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”

“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”

“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”

“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.

You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.

Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places.  “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”

“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.

Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”

“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”

“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.

A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.

He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.

You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”

“Intense?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.

“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”

“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.

Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”

“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.

Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.

“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.

“No, you’re not,�� he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Boom, what if they knocked down and tied up Tommy before he killed anyone (like Sam in 94) and now reader and the gang are just dragging around Tommy (scary dog privileges). And reader is just talking to him to ease their nerves and it seems like he still understands them even if he's just responding in huff, grunts, and aggressive nods

Ooh!!!! This is such a cool idea!!!! I hope you enjoy!!!

Are You in There? (Tommy Slater x Reader)

Warnings: angst, mentions of restraints and a gag, Tommy is trying to kill everyone still, possessed!Tommy, the reader and Arnie kind of sit on the sidelines while Alice and Cindy do everything :), Arnie and Alice are canon compliantly jerks, discussed murder/abandonment

Word Count: 1.5k

You sat with Tommy's head in your lap. You were trying to keep him calm by petting his head, rubbing his temples. But this wasn't just a headache you were trying to cure.

Something was seriously wrong with your boyfriend. Like, seriously wrong.

He'd gone for an axe, just before you, Cindy, Arnie, and Alice had stopped him. You'd tied him up, and even gagged him. If you didn't, he'd yell and try to bite. And if his hands were free? Well, he'd already given Arnie a nasty bruise on the cheek and he'd nearly thrown Cindy. He was like a feral dog more than your sweet Tommy, and, well, you needed to not draw attention to where the five of you had gone exploring. Especially with what was in the next room.

Really, how would you explain your boyfriend's sudden urge to kill everyone he saw? Even if you did show them the room that Alice and Cindy had found, his name on the wall, it still sounded crazy. And what would they do with him?

You shook your head. It didn't matter, because it wasn't going to happen. You were going to fix him. You'd told him that a few times. Without mobility and the ability to bite or yell, the boy in your lap settled for glares full of hatred as his only response.

It was a little jarring to see him look at you with such contempt. Usually, his eyes were soft and kind. He was nice to everyone, but he saved a special part of his sweetness for you. And now?

You sighed as you brushed your hand over his cheek, trying to will this away with your thoughts alone. This wasn't your Tommy. It looked like him, but, whoever this was, it wasn't the man that you fell in love with.

"What are we gonna do?" Cindy asked, her arms folded in front of her. You were wondering the same thing, and your heart sank when Alice said,

"I say we leave his ass." And both you and Cindy cried out at the same time,

"No!"

"We can't!" And the pair of you looked at eachother, and then at the bleached blonde. It comforted you that at least Cindy was on your side, but hurt was etched in your face as you started at Alice. You couldn't believe that she would just leave him behind. But, Arnie sided with his girlfriend,

"Did you two forget the part where he tried to axe me? And then punched me in the face? Or, Cindy, when he fucking threw you?" And you grimaced. Yeah, Tommy hadn't exactly done himself any favors when it came to getting people on his side. But, you looked up at them, and then directly at Alice.

"You saw his name on that wall, Alice. Whatever this is- whatever that is," You said, and pointed towards the room. "It's not Tommy. It's the witch." And you knew, you knew, that you were right. You could feel it. And you knew she did too. How else could you explain everything? Nurse Lane had been right about everything so far, so you grabbed the book from her. She yelled,

"Hey!" When you snatched it but you didn't care. You flipped through it, and read from it,

"She reaches from beyond the grave to make good men her wicked slaves- See! This is what I mean! Tommy's possessed." You said, and, the three of them looked between eachother. You knew Alice and Arnie, to some degree, believed in the witch. But Cindy?

"Don't be ridiculous. The witch isn't real." And you gave her a glare. You gestured towards the room, and then asked,

"Oh, so did that just develop over time? Listen to yourself, Cindy! That's witchcraft!" You yelled, and Tommy shook in your lap. Your rising voice seemed to be riling him up, and you quickly shushed him. You stroked his face, trying to calm him, but he didn't calm so easily. He huffed and shook, but when you started scratching his scalp, in a place you knew he liked, he seemed to falter for a second. He sighed, and you watched as he settled. It made part of your heart swell, even if his eyes didn't soften.

"So- So, what if it is the witch?" Alice started, and you looked up in surprise. Everyone looked to her, and she continued with, "Well, Nurse Lane- Nurse Lane tried to kill Tommy. Maybe, we should-" And you couldn't believe what she was saying. First leaving him and now killing him? You stared at her in shock, and you were quick to yell,

"No!" And, thank God, Cindy agreed with you. She was quick to ask,

"Are you crazy? You want to kill someone? Kill Tommy?" And, you swore that Cindy was possibly the only one with sense between the three of them. Already, you were missing Tommy's even-tempered mind. Quickly, she tried to defend herself,

"Well, what else are we supposed to do with psycho here?" She said, gesturing towards him. You broke in, your voice even as you said,

"We help him. We break the curse." Your voice was serious, even if Arnie scoffed. You glared at him, and your voice was almost deadly as you stared at him and said, "He would do it for you." You paused, looking at Cindy before settling on Alice. "Tommy would do it if it was any of you." And neither Alice or Arnie seemed to have a smart remark to reply to that with. They knew it was true. Tommy was just like that. He wouldn't even give it a second thought. Even if he didn't believe in the witch, or her stupid curse.

"Well, how exactly are we supposed to break the curse?" Arnie said, and you didn't even have to answer. Alice, from memory, said in a deadpan voice,

"By cutting off her cursed hand, she keeps her grip upon the land." And then you watched as she let out a sigh and rubbed her forehead. It seemed the situation was weighing heavily on everyone. "We have to find Sarah Fiers hand and put it back with the rest of her body." Alice said, and the four of you looked between eachother. Yeah, this wasn't exactly the treasure hunt you had planned for later on in the week. Sarcastically, Arnie said,

"Great. This is gonna be so fun."

***

Getting Tommy up had been an ordeal all in itself. He'd thrashed, squirmed, and basically tried to harm anyone around him in any way he could. And getting him through the crawlspace you'd found behind the desk? Yeah, right. So, you and Arnie sat in the creepy room with all the creepy names, with Tommy's head back in your lap. At first, you'd offered to watch him by yourself, but the three of them had each given you a glance.

Getting him restrained between the four of them had been difficult, but leaving him with just you? Yeah, no way. So, Arnie sat a few feet away with his back against the wall, playing with a loose string of his tank top, just in case Tommy got loose. You, on the other hand, were talking to Tommy.

"Y'know, after all this is over, I bet the witch would make a great Halloween costume." You said, rambling on about anything and everything that came to your mind. You were trying to understand the curse more. The whole 'wicked slaves' thing was sort of vague. Part of you wondered if Tommy was even still there, or if it was the witch inside him. But, you'd started to lean towards the former a little bit. Tommy grunted. It was muffled behind the gag, but that wasn't the first time.

He seemed to be almost reacting to some of the things you said, even if the reaction wasn't always kind. When you argued earlier, he'd gotten riled up. But, when you talked to him like this, all he did was let out little grunts and huffs.

You stared down at him. At his strawberry blonde hair and his crystal blue eyes. He had a cut jaw, and nice cheekbones. You even smiled as you traced the dimple in his chin. He was your kind, sweet, perfect boyfriend. And you weren't going to let a stupid witch have him.

"Are you in there, Tommy?" You whispered, tracing his jaw. You just wanted to know, wanted some sort of sign. Something solid. Something sure. But, before you could ask him something else, Arnie let his hands fall to his lap with a clap and said,

"Can you not get all," He interrupted himself with a gesture of his hands, and you gave him a look. Really, sometimes, you didn't know what Alice saw in him.

"Are you gonna be an ass all night?" You asked, and, to your surprise, Tommy seemingly huffed in agreement. It made you smile, and, to you, that was as good of a confirmation as any.

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Nineteen. The Bench Trio and Sapnap make Phasmophobia 10000% Funnier

warnings: swearing maybe, word count: 3.5k (not including pictures) 

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

note: wooooo last chapter before... the trip........ be excited >:) 

**********

Y/n grimaced in anticipation as she looked at Karl’s wide eyes and open mouth as he leaned against the kitchen counter. He hadn’t said anything in almost a full minute and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take.

“Say something, Karl,” she mumbled as she tugged on the strings of her new, lime green hoodie. She stared at him as he switched between leaning his elbows on the countertop and standing up straight with his palms pressed to it instead.

“I... wh—what?” Karl finally voiced his scattered thoughts, cackling abruptly as he threw his head back and clutching his stomach. “WHAT THE HECK, Y/N?!” He stood up straight and beamed at her, his eyes darting to her hoodie and then to her face. “Dream sent you his own hoodie?? How am I suppo— what in the— WHAT? Is this one his?” His fingers gently tugged at the hem of the material as he stared at it, eyes full of curiosity.

Y/n shook her head, face burning at Karl’s joy and surprise. “This one is just the merch one he sent. His hoodie is… very obviously his.”

“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.

Y/n laughed lightly before leading him to her room, where the maroon hoodie lay neatly folded on the end of her bed. Karl picked it up and laughed. “It has a Florida thing on it?” he giggled and shook his head, not being able to get enough out of the whole situation and his best friend’s clear embarrassment. “Why aren’t you wearing this one? Too shy to flaunt your boyfriend’s clothes?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she clarified quickly, sending Karl a sideways glance. “But I’m trying to… you know… preserve it.” And because she worried that if she never took it off, she would only get more and more attached to the boy who lived three states away, hundreds of miles from her. She preferred sleeping in it over wearing it around the apartment. It was more comforting that way.

Karl lost it. He cackled maniacally and nearly fell on Y/n’s bed, losing his mind at how stupid the two were. “Preserv—Y/N! If you just tell him you like him, he’ll probably give you a new one when we go to his literal house.”

Y/n’s face heated up even more as she hummed. “About that…”

Karl’s laughter stopped abruptly, wide eyes staring at the girl. “No way.”

Y/n cowered lightly, nodding her head ever so slightly.

Once again, the curly-haired boy acted like he won the lottery. “NO WAY! Y/N, NO WAY! You’re lying, you told him??”

A wide grin spread across her face and she nodded as she recounted the details to him, almost like telling a little kid a fascinating fairytale. Karl’s face was glowing the whole time, his excitement for his best friend clear in his toothy grin and bright eyes.

He nearly tackled her when she finished, her hands tugging roughly at the hoodie strings, but tried to compose himself instead.

“Y/N! THAT’S SO AWESOME!! Wait, wait, wait, so, are you guys, like…?”

She shook her head. “We’re not dating, we’re just two people who like each other who are going to go on a date in…” she paused to the check the date on her phone and her stomach fluttered with excitement, “like, a week??”

Karl laughed and wiggled a little, his excitement nearly bursting at the seams. “Please, can I please give you a celebratory hug?”

Y/n laughed and opened her arms. “Of course.” He jumped at the opportunity, wrapping his arms around her in a huge hug and squeezing tightly. “Wait a minute, I’m mad at you!” she pulled away and Karl’s smile dropped.

“What did I do?”

“You and George knew how Dream and I felt and didn’t tell either of us anything?”

Karl raised his hands in defense. “No, hold on, to be clear, Dream himself didn’t say anything to me until, like, a week ago. I only knew before that because Sapnap and George told me stuff.”

“What the hell, Karl!! Sapnap too?”

“Yeah, of course Dream told him stuff, they live together and are best friends. Why wouldn't he know?”

“You’re all traitors.”

“We were sworn to secrecy! Both of you made us promise to not say anything!”

“That didn't stop you from talking to Sapnap about my feelings?”

“Ah, but I kept my promise and didn't tell Dream… you never said anything about Sapnap.”

Y/n gave him a deadpanned look and crossed her arms over her chest.

Karl paused. “Does it help if I tell you that we talked to Quackity about it too?”

“WHAT?” she snapped, though a small disbelieving laugh chased her words. “What, are you all just talking about us behind our backs? You told Quackity and Sapnap about my crush but you couldn’t have hinted at it to Dream? Or told me you knew how Dream felt?”

“You think I didn’t?” Karl laughed. “I hinted to you about his crush all the time, but you just never believed me!”

Y/n paused, recalling all the times Karl was super encouraging, promising things would work out, and even the times Karl straight up told her he thought Dream liked her. She pouted. “You know that I’m stupid.”

Karl stuck his bottom lip out in a smile. “You are. But you’re also ballsy and finally admitted you like him so all this can be in the past and you don’t have to be mad at me anymore. Right?”

“I’m not actually mad at you, Karl. I am embarrassed that you've told them things I’ve said.”

“Oh, no, no, don't worry. N one of us really explicitly said things you or Dream have said. We all mostly just complained to each other about how stupid you two were being,” he assured. “Well, Sapnap is Sapnap though, so he did tell us some very specific things Dream has ranted to him about regarding you.” He giggled as Y/n’s jaw dropped lightly.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No, I don’t want it to ‘be in the past’ anymore; I want you to tell me everything Dream has told the others about me.”

“No! That’s private information. You can ask him yourself on your daaateee,” he sang, making her face heat up more.

“I’m going on a date with Dream,” she whispered in disbelief and Karl beamed at her. “Even better, you’ll see him in person in exactly a week.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide. “That’s so soon. Karl, I’m going to faint or something.”

The boy just smiled at her. “You’ll be fine. Naomi and I will hold you up if you need.”

A few days passed and Y/n found herself with her tucked her knees to her chest as she greeted her chat enthusiastically. “Today, it’s gonna be intense. Today we’re playing Phasmophobia!! So if you don’t like scary games or paranormal stuff or anything like that, feel free to not watch and just listen or even close out completely. I don't want anyone to get triggered or be actually scared or anything.”

She watched as hearts flew by in her chat and she smiled.

“Yeah, don't feel bad if you need to leave! But if you do want to stay, it’s going to be super fun and probably very chaotic. Today we’re playing with Sapnap, Ranboo, and Tubbo, and Tommy is in the call but he’s not playing.”

“And me!” Karl said from beside her and she laughed.

“Oh, yeah, and Karl is here in real life because he’s clingy.”

“That’s a lie; Bugsy is terrified so she asked me to be here for emotional support.”

“If I wanted emotional support, I would have asked Naomi to be here instead. You get scared easier than me.”

Karl laughed and looked at her chat

“Okay, so, yeah, remember to leave if you need to and take care of yourselves but I’m going to join vc now!” Y/n unmuted in the call, announcing her presence loudly. She switched her stream screen to the Phasmophobia lobby where her, Ranboo, Tubbo, and Sapnap’s lanky characters walked around aimlessly messing with stuff.

“Hiiii,” Tubbo dragged out sleepily. “Are you ready to be spooked by the scary game, Bugsy?”

“Yes, I'm so ready.”

“The Scary Game,” Ranboo laughed. “Trademark.”

“Hello, Bugsy Games,” Tommy greeted robotically and she laughed, responding in the same voice.  

“Hello, Tommy Innit.”

“How are you doing?” His voice was monotonous and reluctant, almost like he was being forced to be nice to her. She knew it was all a joke between them though, as Tommy had come to her for advice about things before.

“I'm doing well, how are you?” she laughed.

“'I'm doing well’,” he mocked. “How pretentious of you to say.”

“TOMMY,” Sapnap called out. Her nerves spiked at the new knowledge that Sapnap knew more than she had told him about her feelings for Dream. Not that he would ever say anything on a livestream in front of tens of thousands of people, but it still made her nervous. “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO HER?”

“I'm not scared of you, big man,” Tommy explained. “I will say what I want to Bugsy and you can't do anything about it.”

“What about me and Sapnap combined?” Karl asked from her side. “We are the BugsyGames protection squad.”

“I think George is on it, too,” Sapnap declared.

“Can we be part of the protection squad?” Tubbo asked. “We can intimidate people with Ranboo’s height.”

“I'm the least terrifying person you will meet,” Ranboo claimed. “I am only tall.”

“I'm not scared of any of you,” Tommy assured. “I will continue to say mean things to Bugsy if I feel like it.”

“Okay, but you might be scared of someone we know, though. Someone who lives with me?” Sapnap hinted obviously. Everyone, including chat – who were spamming the name of that certain someone –  knew who Sapnap was referring to. Someone, who the mere mention of, made Y/n’s face heat up.

Tommy went quiet for a moment before mumbling close to his mic, “I'm sorry, Bugsy, you are not pretentious. You are actually a very kind person.”

She absolutely loved the fact that so many of their friends, joking or not, knew that Dream cared about her so much. Had it really been obvious all along, even to someone like Tommy?

“You're a menace to society, Tommy.” She smiled to herself as Karl laughed.

Tommy sputtered in surprise. “WHAT!”

“Are you guys ready to play?” Y/n asked as she went to the whiteboard in the game to start.

“Yes, let’s go!!!” Tubbo cheered.

Phasmophobia was eventful to say the least. Between Ranboo’s panic, Sapnap’s screams, Karl’s cackling laughter, Tommy yelling as he watched the stream, and Tubbo being blissfully unbothered by all of it, Y/n could barely catch her breath between laughing fits.

An outside observer might have thought the group was insane, and she felt bad for her chat having to put up with the obnoxious screams and cursing each other out, but it was the most fun she had had in a long time being able to mess around with this group of chaos she called friends. It only made her more and more excited for the upcoming trip, which was days away now.

“Okay, okay, I think I’m going to end here, is anyone going to stream?” she asked, still giggling from Ranboo’s latest bit involving him crying in the corner of the haunted building.

“I will be,” Ranboo announced.

“Then go start and I’ll raid you,” she offered, leaving him to thank her and leave the voice call to start his stream.

“Okay, thank you so much guys for playing! Wait, fit check?” she interrupted herself as her eyes caught the spam going through. “Chat…” Y/n trailed off with a laugh at the end. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but… you can’t see me. How am I supposed to give you a fit check?”

Tommy laughed from the other side of the call.

“Bugsy, does your chat not know you are faceless?” Tubbo joked, making her laugh.

“I-I guess not? Chat, we need to talk…”

“I can give a fit check for them,” Karl offered as he looked up from his phone. “I’ll just describe what you’re wearing.”

Y/n laughed but agreed.

“Do it, Karl,” Sapnap encouraged. “Feed the Bugsy stans. Then send me a fit check picture of you, Karl.”

Karl laughed. “Okay,” he said distractedly as he looked at Y/n. “She’s wearing, uh...”

“Can you even see her outfit or does she have the comforter around her like always?” Tommy asked, half genuine, half mocking.

“Actually, she doesn’t because she has her new hoodie on. So that, and just, like, black pants. And fuzzy socks.”

Y/n held her breath as she looked down and realized what hoodie she was wearing. The good one. Normally it was reserved for sleeping in, but she wanted the extra comfort it provided while she played Phasmophobia. Any hoodie would have done, but having Dream’s clothing wrapped around her body gave her an extra level of security that she was too embarrassed to ever admit aloud.

“New hoodie?” Sapnap asked. “Give the people some more info, Karl. What does it look like?” She couldn’t tell if there was malice behind his words or if he was genuinely curious. Did he know about Dream sending her one of his hoodies? They were roommates after all, Sapnap had to know, right? Especially since Y/n now knew that Dream told Sapnap a lot.

Karl looked at her with a huge grin, knowing exactly where the piece came from. “Yeah, super new. It has a Flori—”

“It’s just red,” she said quickly, giving Karl a wide-eyed look.

“Oh?” Tubbo asked. “W-why did you sound so suspicious? What kind of red?”

“Suspicious?” she scoffed. “What’s suspicious about a hoodie?” she paused before adding quieter, “And.... it’s maroon.”

“Interesting…” Sapnap said, his smile clear in his voice. He knew. He definitely knew.

The accusatory tone of his voice paired with Karl hiding his giggles behind his hand made Y/n pull her collar over her face in embarrassment. The action only caused the lingering smell on the material to fill her nose, but she wasn’t necessarily complaining.

“I have a maroon hoodie!” Tubbo related, oblivious alongside Ranboo and Tommy about the teasing going on between her and Sapnap. “What kind is it? Maybe it’s the same one?”

“Tubbo, you should not sound so pleased at the possibility of matching Bugsy,” Tommy sneered and Y/n momentarily forgot about the embarrassment of knowing Sapnap knew.

“Tommy, when we meet, I will personally make sure that you do not have fun.”

“Oh, I’m so excited for that!” Tubbo said obliviously. “It’s going to be so fun!”

Y/n glanced at her chat again and smiled at all the accusations that she was meeting up with some of the other streamers in the call. Little did they know how many of them were not only meeting up, but spending a week and a half vacation together.

“Me too, but chat doesn’t get to know anything about it.”

“Right, right, sorry chat!” Tubbo apologized. “You all are forced to stay out of the loop.”

“Oh, Ranboo went live, I’m going to end. I’ll talk to you guys later! Thanks again for playing!”

“Thanks, Bugsy!” Sapnap said. “It was fun.”

“Bye Bugsy…” Tommy dragged out and she laughed.

“Bye guys,” she said finally and muted, turning her attention back to her stream. “Thanks everyone for watching! And for everyone who donated or subbed or anything like that, thanks! I’ll stream again on Friday but after that I won’t be able to stream for a while, but I do have YouTube videos I will be posting so look out for those!”

She finally ended and turned to Karl after everything was shut off.

“Sapnap definitely knows about the hoodies,” Karl giggled at her expression. “Man’s voice was pure teasing, he knows.”

Y/n laughed and shook her head. “I know! What the heck. Thanks for hanging out with me, by the way.”

“Of course! I like hanging out even if I don’t get to play.”

“Even over your secret friend?”

Karl turned pink. “She’s busy. I’m also still not talking about this.” He stood up and Y/n smiled, dropping the topic.

“Karl, I was joooking.” She followed him out to the kitchen, where Naomi sat typing rapidly on her laptop, most likely cramming for an exam. Y/n’s phone buzzed from her pocket so she pulled it out and couldn’t help the smile or heat that made its way to her face.

Y/n excused herself from the kitchen — where Naomi was still typing furiously and Karl was now thoroughly entertained with something on his phone — to answer the incoming FaceTime call from Dream. She hit accept as she fell on her bed.

“Hi,” she greeted.

“YOU’RE WEARING THE HOODIE I GAVE YOU? HOW EMBARRASSING! HAHA LET’S ALL LAUGH AT Y/N FOR WEARING MY HOODIE!!”

Y/n frowned at his joke and hit the red end button underneath Dream’s face. Her screen defaulted back to her home screen before a new call lit up.

She answered again. “Are you going to be nice?” she asked, pulling the soft, red material over her face, leaving just her eyes to see Dream’s adorable pout.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Sorry.”

She smiled and released the fabric, showing her whole face again, which made the boy smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I watched your stream,” he started and she scoffed.

“I know, how else would you have known about the hoodie?”

“Well, Sapnap also texted me so even if I wasn’t, I would have found out.”

Y/n shook her head as her face heated up with embarrassment. She knew the trip was going to be full of teasing from practically the whole group.

“But I was saying I watched your stream and it looked like a lot of fun. Sounded like you had fun, too.”

“I did,” she confirmed. “I love those guys, they’re awesome. I love how everyone just bounces off each other, it’s so funny.”

“I can tell,” Dream laughed, “I haven’t heard you laugh that hard before.”

“Oh gosh, did I sound like a crazy person?”

Dream smiled and rubbed one of his eyes sleepily. “No, well, maybe a little but, like, in a cute way.”

“In a cute way? So I’m crazy but in a cute way? Yeah, okay, Dream.”

“No, I mean, like, your laugh was just super loud and energetic but it wasn’t obnoxious or gross or anything, it was adorable. It’s probably the cutest sound I’ve ever heard.”

“You might be a little biased.”

He hummed as he smiled at his screen for a few seconds. “Maybe a little, but so what?”

“You weren’t supposed to agree to that!” she said.

“Secret’s out that I like you so I get to say things like that now, Bug. As long as it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, I’m going to call everything you do cute.”

“Shut up.”

“Cute.”

Her stern expression broke with a laugh and she hung her head. “Got any ideas about our date yet?”

He smiled widely. “Yes.”

“What are they?”

“You really think I’m going to tell you? Absolutely not. You have to wait.”

“Can you at least tell me what day? You’re not making me wait until Georgia, right? The date is while we’re in Florida?”

“So eager, sheesh!” Dream teased. “But so am I, so yeah. I was thinking maybe the 23rd? Since you guys will get here on the 22nd?”

“Oh, who’s eager now? The day after I get there?”

Dream pouted so she smiled and assured him that she was just as excited for their date as he was. “I’m kinda nervous because it’ll be the day before Christmas Eve, so a lot of places will be super crowded and I know you said you don’t like big crowds so we might have to work around some stuff—”

“Dream, I’m honestly just excited to see you. Anything we do will be fun, I promise. I’m just happy I’ll get to see you and spend time with you.”

His worried expression softened as it was replaced with a fond smile. “Down bad, huh?”

Just like that, the tender moment was ruined and Y/n groaned, a laugh bubbling in her throat. “What is wrong with you? You’re the one stressing out so much about a date! You’re the one who’s down bad.”

“Yeah, but at least I can admit it.”

She shook her head at him for what felt like the millionth time and sighed. “I can’t believe I put up with you.”

“You must like me a lot, I guess,” he said, pushing her to admit it again.

“I guess I do.”

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[dhwty-writes]

The Terribly Sad and Tragic Affair that Is the Fake Funeral of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss

Apparently, I am not only drawing for the Critical Role fandom, but writing for it, too. After months of nearly no progress I just vomited out 3k words this Tuesday and it only went downhill from there.

This fic is based on this post by @anne-o-nyme, I really hope I managed to capture the energy of it.

Have fun!

Summary: There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience.

After the sudden "death" of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, it is his brother Verin's job to empty out his towers. The Mighty Nein show up to help (and maybe steal a few things).

OR: Verin is grieving, Essek just wants his stuff back, and the Mighty Nein are the Mighty Nein.

Warnings: I didn't tag this with MCD, because Essek is technically alive and kicking. Since Verin doesn't know that though, and this fic is written from his POV, this is dealing with grief and includes depictions of depressive thoughts as well as anxiety attacks. For more explicit warnings, please mind the tags on AO3. Take care of yourselves, and let me know if I forgot anything.

Read on AO3

There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience. "Listen," he said with what little calm he had left, "I know that by returning one of our beacons you became heroes of the Dynasty and were placed under Es— My bro— his stewardship. But this here—" he gestured vaguely at the interior of Essek's towers that had always been too cold, too empty, but not like now, never like now— "This is a very difficult situation for me, so if you could please leave, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Yes, yes, it's very sad that Essek died," the blue tiefling said—Jester, her name was Jester; she had given him that already as she had offered him her condolences with a hug—and Verin could barely contain his anger. After the funeral he had quite enough of lying dignitaries, nobles, and heroes currying favours with him. That had always been Essek's thing, he would know what to do, how to make them regret even daring to speak up; Verin had never been any good at it.

"But we're his friends!" He grit his teeth at Jester's blatant falsehood. Perhaps his anger showed on his face, since the tiefling faltered. "And, uh— Fjord?"

"It's true," the half-orc with too-smooth words and too-smooth voice lied, too. "We spent quite some time with your, er— your brother here. Made some good memories. We thought we might take this as our chance to say goodbye, too."

"We are here to help as well. We wouldn't want to infringe upon your grief, though," the tall firbolg added. "So, if you'd prefer us to return at a later point, we'd be happy to."

Verin was still trying to process everything—from these strangers showing up unannounced to their overwhelming presence to the fact that his brother was dead—while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the halfling who looked like she might have sticky fingers. So, he latched onto the word that stood out the most to him: "Help?"

"Right," Fjord said, looking slightly embarrassed, "we probably should have led with that..."

"We should have called ahead, too," the scary-looking human in blue—they didn't even wear white for the funeral—added. "We always forget to call ahead."

"But Beau, how should we have called ahead?" Jester complained. "We didn't know Verin yet."

"Well, Essek—" the human was interrupted by the even scarier-looking woman next to her stepping on her foot unsubtly. She at least had the decency to act embarrassed. "Right. Sorry 'bout that."

Awkward silence fell across the room, the Mighty Nein looking anywhere but him. It took him a few moments to realise they were waiting for him to speak up. "Help how?" Verin could have kicked himself. By the Light, he could do better than that. He had to do better than that.

A beat of silence followed, then everyone seemed to talk at once. Verin wanted to weep. How was he supposed to deal with this? How had his brother dealt with this? 'He probably hasn't,' he thought. 'They're probably all liars, probably—'

Someone cleared their throat and all eyes turned to the other human who hadn't said anything so far and who looked properly miserable. Immediately, the Mighty Nein fell silent. "Word has reached us that Den Thelyss ordered these premises to be vacated as early as possible," he said quietly with an accent Verin has been taught that belonged to the enemy. "And while some of us may not look like much, I can assure you, we are quite capable."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I supposed such menial tasks are beneath the heroes of the dynasty. There are servants—"

"Well, sure," the halfling with the probably sticky fingers interrupted, "but we know him. Knew him, I mean; sorry, force of habit."

"Besides, there's a lot of stuff," the lavender tiefling, who Verin was pretty sure was a known pirate, piped up. "Looks like you could use the help."

"If you want to, of course," the sad Empire human added.

Verin only wanted to scream, to give room to the torrent of thoughts raging in his head. 'My brother just died. My brother just died and he wasn't consecuted, so he's gone for good. He's gone for good and I didn't even know him; I didn't even know about these supposed friends he had because he didn't allow me near him in decades. I was a horrible brother and so was he, but I can't even be mad at him because he's dead.

'And now these liars show up and talk about friendship and knowing him, but those are all lies, horrible ones, because Essek had no friends. Essek was cold and cruel and lonely and do you even know how horrible that is? Dying alone with no-one who mourns you, just the favours you still owe them? Do you? I don't even know, and I'm his brother.'

Were he a weaker man, a less disciplined one, he might have said so. But he was Taskhand Verin of Den Thelyss and he had learned discipline before he had learned to talk. So, he said: "Your help would be greatly appreciated, thank you. I'll have the servants bring up some tea. There are, uh—" He straightened his back, summoning the composure that was befitting a Taskhand, even one with a dead brother. "There are boxes up there, they've been brought to the rooms already. Anything of value will be sold; the rest will be given to charity. The things— Well, if you find anything that might have sentimental value, something in his handwriting, perhaps, I think I should like to keep that, please."

The firbolg nodded sagely. "Of course. We will be careful with our selection."

With that, Verin turned around and— froze. Where was he even supposed to start? The towers had always seemed to huge for just Essek and he knew that there were very few personal belongings in them. Still, they would have to be scoured clean within the fortnight.

A large hand on his shoulder made him jump, although he'd never admit it. "Sometimes, when a task seems too large, you should start with the smallest part," the firbolg said. "If I were you, I'd start with the smallest room."

"Thank you, that, uh— that seems like good advice," Verin replied, still a bit startled and confused. "I, er— I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Caduceus Clay. I live in a graveyard, so I'm used to this," Clay said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Verin furrowed his brows slightly. A graveyard? It seemed highly unlikely to him that one of the heroes of the Dynasty would live in a graveyard of all places. Perhaps they were not only liars, but impostors too? But they had the symbols of the Bright Queen, so there wasn't much that he could say.

"Right," he mumbled. "I believe the smallest room would be the closet. Although it might be tied with the bathroom..." He trailed off again. He had never seen Essek's bedroom in his towers. Judging by how many times he had even seen the inside of the building; he could count himself lucky if he even found the way there.

"Why don't we split up?" Clay suggested. "One group takes the closet, one the bathroom and one the bedroom. We'd get done sooner that way."

"That is a great idea, Caduceus," Jester said excitedly. "I'll take the bathroom; I promised— er, I'm curious if I can find more of that hair oil, I got for Fjord that one time!"

"Ohhh, are you saying this is... an investigation?!" the halfling joined in.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Veth!"

"Seems like a case for Wildemount's best detectives!"

"Bye, Verin!" Jester called and he blinked and they were gone. Fjord joined them as well, muttering something about having to supervise them.

The purple pirate-tiefling shrugged, heading off in the same direction. "Well, I wouldn't mind rifling through some drawers. I'll have a look at that bedroom."

"Yeah, I don't need to see Essek's underwear, so I'll pass on the closet," Beau added tactfully—Verin was getting the sneaking suspicion that manners were not really her strong suit. She linked hands with the large woman at her side, pulling her along. "Come on, Yash."

"I'll go handle the tea," Clay said. "Don't worry about it." He vanished in the direction of the kitchen, his steps accompanied by the constant tap tap tap of his staff.

When Verin looked around, he realised that only the sad Empire human was left with him in the hallway. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, pointedly avoiding eye-contact, "I would love to have a look at the closet. I always, ah— appreciated your brother's sense of fashion."

Verin blinked at him a few times, then shrugged. "Sure." He began heading up the stairs.

"My condolences," the human continued. "I realise I didn't speak up earlier, but— I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he said, letting the same numb feeling wash over him again that he had embraced since the news of Essek's death had reached him.

"I know that we seem like a bunch of, ah— forgive my language, but assholes, but we're really here to help. I will tell the others to tone it down a bit."

"Thank you," he repeated.

"If you'd prefer that we start in, ah— less personal rooms, we can do that also."

"If I'm perfectly honest, I don't even know what I should be doing there."

"Neither am I." The human laughed nervously. "I have dealt with grief before, but I've never had the, ah— how do you call it? Hang on." He pulled out a copper wire and whispered: "Beau, how do you say zweifelhafte Ehre in Common? You can reply to this message." A moment later he straightened. "Right. I never had the dubious honour of emptying out a deceased person's house before."

"Neither did I," Verin admitted. 'Usually, the deceased person comes back,' he didn't say. Instead, he opted for: "You're, er— What's the word in Common? You're weird? I'm sorry if that's insulting, I just— waele xanalressen [stupid languages]."

"I don't understand your words, but I think I understand the sentiment." The man grimaced. "And I've heard that one before. I hope we're not too much of a... too much."

"It's alright," he lied and opened the door to Essek's bedroom. 

It wasn't alright; Verin wanted to weep again.

The door to the bathroom stood ajar, as did several drawers and cabinets, although he couldn't glance inside. Considering that he heard glass shatter and a quiet "oops" followed by a hushed "Jester!" he was rather glad about that. Besides, what he saw was already quite enough to handle. Beau was currently rifling through Essek's nightstand, the tall woman tossing unread books on the bed carelessly, while the lavender tiefling seemed to make his way through his brother's collections of make-up and jewellery alike.

They froze when they spotted him and the sad human in the door. "Heeey, Verin," Beau drawled.

"These were all still closed, I swear," the lavender tiefling said immediately, gesturing at the jars in front of them.

Verin just sighed in defeat. "I don't wear any make-up, I don't care; you can have it. Put the jewellery in the box to be sold; the books are for charity if he hasn't read them. Just leave the earrings in front of the mirror, please. Those were his favourites."

Without another glance at them, Verin headed straight to Essek's closet, desperate to get some quiet. He took a few moments to collect himself, before closing the door and leaning his head against it with a heavy thunk.

He stayed like that for a minute or maybe two until he heard someone clear their throat. "I have been debating for the past fifty-five seconds, if I should just Dimension Door out," the sad human said and Verin very nearly jumped out of his skin, "but that would be loud and I didn't want to startle you. Not that I didn't startle you like this but—"

"Vithin shu," Verin cursed.

"Vithin shu ke," the sad human agreed, his accent in Undercommon even heavier than normally.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, equally startled by the course of events. Then, the human looked away again. "I, ah— have started learning Undercommon before, um— well, before." Verin tried very hard to focus on the way the human was scratching at his forearms; that way he had something else to focus on besides his nearing breakdown.

"This is a bit embarrassing, but, ah— I believe I forgot to introduce myself," the human continued. "I'm Caleb Widogast. Essek and I were... friends, yes, and ah— colleagues, of some sort. It's... complicated."

He scratched at his arms again before turning towards the shelves and pulling out a stack of tunics. He unfolded one, looked at it, then carefully folded it again, cast a cantrip to smooth out the wrinkles, and put it in the charity box. Then he repeated the procedure with the next. And the next. And the next.

Verin frowned, thinking for a moment about his words. There was something about them that seemed painfully familiar, although he couldn't quite remember. Then: "The transmutation specialist."

Widogast looked up in surprise. "Yes."

"Essek told me of you," Verin admitted.

The last time they had seen each other had been here, in these towers, just a few months ago. He had found his brother in his office, pouring over notes for a new spell, alive and healthy as ever. As always, he had entered without knocking. As always, he had pretended to read the notes. Not as always, he had noticed something wrong. "Whose handwriting is that?" he had asked.

"What?" Essek had snapped, his head whipping up. Then, however, his expression had softened. "Oh. A friend's. A colleague, of sorts. He's helping me out, a bit."

"With the spell?" Verin had asked incredulously.

"Yes. He's a transmutation specialist; you know that's not my forte. Now give it back, will you?"

"A colleague, huh?" He had grinned and held the paper out of Essek's reach. "Are you sure that's all?"

Perhaps Essek had been sick after all, for the strangest thing had happened: instead of using his floating cantrip to snatch the notes back, he had gotten a dreamy, far-off look in his eyes. He had even smiled with an expression Verin might have called dopey, if it weren't his brother they were talking about. After a few moments, he had snapped out of it, sighed, and said: "It's complicated."

"Did he?" Widogast asked tentatively. "Did he, ah— did he say anything else about me?"

Verin pinned him down with a glare, sizing him up. In hindsight, he should have noticed the thick spellbook at his hip earlier; judging by his slim frame alone, he should have known the man was a wizard. He supposed Widogast was handsome enough, although his brother had never cared much for that, with his copper hair and his striking blue eyes. Blue eyes around which crows' feet were gathering, as he noticed to his dismay. 'He's human,' Verin reminded himself. He might have a few decades left, maybe, whereas Essek had centuries ahead of him. The thought why his brother might condemn himself to more loneliness crossed his mind, though it hardly mattered. His brother had been the first to die, after all.

"Verin?" Widogast inquired quietly.

"I'm sorry," he answered with a thick voice. "I got lost in my thoughts there. He, uhh— he said that he trusted you." That didn't even begin to cover it, but these Mighty Nein had been lying to him since the moment they got here, so what was a little lie by omission? Besides, there were some memories that he wanted to keep just to himself.

"Essek," he had teased, still waving the sheet of paper out his reach. "Come on! Aren't we brothers?"

Essek had crossed his arms and pouted. He hadn't done that since they were both little. "Unfortunately. You are a menace. And a child."

"If you tell me about him, I'll give it back. Is he handsome? Is he a drow? Where's he from? How did you meet? When will I meet him? Can I promise to kill him if he hurts you?"

"Verin!" Essek had groaned and hid his face in his hands.

"What do you do when you meet? I bet you stay up all night, talking about 'arcane research' or something."

"We do, in fact. Are you done now?"

"Oh, is that what young people call it these days?" He had cackled at his own joke.

"Evidently not," Essek had muttered. "Might I remind you that you're younger than me?"

"Might I remind you that you're a buzzkill?" Verin had shot back and placed the note down. He had gotten bored of his own game.

Essek had taken the sheet of paper almost reverently and thanked him. "I would have hated it to rewrite that page." He had smoothed it down, stored it safely away in a folder, silent for a long time. Then, he had said: "Caleb."

"Excuse me?"

"That's his name," Essek had said. "Caleb Widogast."

Verin had frowned. "Hey, Essek?"

"Hm?"

"You must trust him a lot, to share a spell with him."

His brother had taken a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Verin hadn't expected him to answer, yet he'd said: "I do, actually. It's not the first spell we've created together and I would be honoured to create a thousand more with him. I'd trust him with my life, my death, and beyond. I think—" He'd huffed. "I think I trust him almost as much as I trust you."

Verin watched Widogast as he was looking through his brother's tunics, placing most of them in the charity box, and he wondered. Wondered if the trust Essek had obviously put in Widogast had been misplaced. Wondered if it had extended to his friends, as well. Wondered if ultimately trust had been his downfall, as he'd always feared.

Then again, if Essek had trusted him... perhaps that trust had been mutual. Perhaps they had been friends. Perhaps there was another person mourning his brother after all.

"Do I have something on my face?" Verin had given up on counting how many times Widogast had now startled him out of his thoughts.

"No, no I—," Verin stammered. "I'm sorry."

He tilted his head to the side. "For staring?"

"No, er— For your loss." Liar or no liar, it only seemed appropriate.

"Oh." Widogast turned back to the tunics. Verin probably should get started, too, shouldn't he? "Thank you. Though I'd wager your loss weighs heavier than mine."

"Probably," he agreed and turned to the task at hand. At this point, Widogast had moved on from the simple tunics to Essek's court regalia. After a short moment of consideration, Verin decided to look through the pants; he also had no interest in sorting through his dead brother's underwear.

Out of the corner of his eye he kept watching the wizard, pulling out one cloak after the other. At a few he wrinkled his nose, at others he just stared before putting them with the tunics. After a while one made him pause; an elaborate, beautiful robe in deep purple. "This is what he was wearing when we first met him," he said.

'He hated that one,' Verin thought. Not that he could say that out loud. Instead, he cocked his head and asked: "Are you sure? He has a lot of those. Had, I mean. Had a lot of those."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He tapped his temple with a faint smile. "I have a good memory."

"As does Essek," he snapped, suddenly feeling very defensive about his brother's capabilities. "I suppose most wizards do."

Infuriatingly, Widogast only nodded. "Indeed. Or they're not very good ones."

Silently, Verin turned back to the trousers. The sooner he got done, the sooner he got these people out of his brother's towers, the better. He didn't know for how long they worked in silence, Verin reminiscing about the times he had seen Essek wear the clothes and wondering about those he didn't know. Eventually, he folded the last of them and forced himself to return to the present. "I think we're done here," he announced. "Do you have a preference for a next room?"

"Perhaps the library?" Widogast offered a tentative smile. "I think I might be of more use there than folding clothes."

"More use than I will be, surely."

"I take it the wizardry doesn't run in the family, then?"

Verin only scoffed and opened the door to the bedroom again.

He immediately spotted Beau leafing through one of the books Essek had never read, while the tiefling was chatting amiably with the aasimar while braiding her hair. He also noted the boxes neatly stacked in the middle of the room. Besides that, he noticed with a heavy heart, the room looked much the same. If anything, it looked less orderly and empty than before. Except for—

"Where are Essek's earrings?" Verin demanded to know.

"What earrings?" the lavender tiefling replied with a too-wide grin the same moment Beau said: "Dude, there's tons of them, why don't—"

"No," he said decisively. "Essek's favourite earrings; they're always up here. I told you about them. Where are they?" His hands curled into fists, his neatly manicured fingernails pressing almost painfully into his skin.

"Perhaps you should look in one of the boxes," the aasimar woman suggested "I'm sure they're—"

"You're lying," Verin interrupted her, barely containing his anger. "Why are you lying? If they're in one of the boxes, then only because you put them there. So: where are they?"

Widogast only now stepped out of the closet, wearing an amber necklace he hadn't noticed before. "Verin—" he said tentatively, but he'd had enough.

"Shut up!" He startled himself with how loud his voice was. But he was beyond caring. "I know they're not in there, because the only ones to put them in there would have been you. So, either you're lying about having them put in there, or you're lying about stealing them, I don't care. Just— please. Please give them back."

The four of them passed a guilty glance. "We can't," Beau replied finally.

"The fuck you can't," Verin spat. "Give them back!"

"Verin, love, we would really love to," the tiefling added, "but we can't."

"I don't understand; is it precious things you want? Here, have some!" He strode over to the boxes and ripped the first open, tossing the lid towards the bathroom door Jester was peeking out of. He reached in to grab a necklace—an ugly one, he had always thought, with a stylised beacon—and threw it in their direction.

Beau caught it. Of course.

"Have a whole box, actually, if you like them so damn much." He reached inside and pulled out a jewellery box, tears prickling in his eyes. He threw one of those, too, just for good measure. It gave him some satisfaction that Widogast had to dodge it. "Just give me back the bloody earrings that my brother wore at my fucking consecution!" He was properly crying now and could only imagine the mess he looked like, but he had reached his limit. And, in his opinion, he was allowed to with all that was going on.

At least they looked a little bit guilty. "Fuck man, we didn't know," Beau mumbled.

"It's just one pair, Beau," Jester called over from the bathroom. "I'm sure it will be alright."

"Yes, there's no need for this to escalate," Fjord agreed and strode over to them, his hands raised innocently.

"I don't even know you people," Verin muttered, looking at the people crowding into his brother's bedroom. "Why did I even let you inside?"

"Do you want the earrings back?" the aasimar woman asked, reaching into a bag at her hip. Had she been carrying a greatsword for the whole time? Verin suddenly noticed how overpowered he was, were he to face all of them. "You can have them back if you want. Here, you can have them back."

"For a moment," Widogast added, slowly drawing closer to him and taking the earrings from the aasimar. He held them out on his flat hand, almost like he had seen soldiers offer treats to horses. His whole demeanour reminded him of someone trying to calm a spooked animal. For some reason, that seemed hilarious to him and he couldn't help the hysterical giggle that escaped his throat.

"Verin, I need you to calm down," he continued. "I know that's easier said than done, but you need your head."

"I think we should all calm down," Clay said from the doorway. And despite being surprised again, he did. It didn't make any sense, but few things these days did.

"Did it work?" the halfling asked. Verin wasn't really sure what she was talking about.

"It did," Clay confirmed.

"Gut," Widogast said and pressed the earrings that had seemed so important a moment ago into Verin's hands. "I think we should maybe go somewhere else, ja? Will you come with me?"

Inadvisable as it might be, if Essek had trusted that man, he should, too. And out of all of the Nein, he seemed to be the most normal one. The one he could see Essek with most. So, he nodded.

"I'll get us back to the kitchen, quickly." Caleb held out his hand and Verin closed his eyes, steeling himself. 'I hate Dimension Door,' was the last thing that crossed his mind before the teleportation spell ripped him away, together with: 'We haven't been to the kitchen, yet.'

Evidently, there went something wrong with the spell. Verin didn't know much about magic, but he knew Dimension Door couldn't transport more than two people. So, when he heard Beau groan and say "Fuck, dude, warn us next time," he knew that something wasn't right.

"You knew about the plan, Beauregard," Widogast replied.

"It doesn't matter," Fjord decided. "Caduceus, do you think you could make tea again? I think the Calm Emotions is about to wear off."

Cautiously, Verin opened one eye, then the other. They were, in fact, standing in a kitchen, as far as he could tell. All of the Mighty Nein were surrounding him. The furniture seemed to have been made for people taller than them; Essek probably would need to float in order to avoid awkwardly climbing onto the chair. The firbolg, however, who was fussing with a teapot, seemed to fit right in. All in all, the interior was very rustic. And very much not in Essek's towers, not that he had ever seen that room, of course.

The panic hit him once more. Verin whirled around to the wizard, instinctively grasping for his sword. "Where the fuck—" he faltered, finding his hip bare. Of course, he hadn't brought it for the funeral. Instead, he opted for just grasping Widogast by the lapels and lifting him up a bit. It was supposed to be menacing, which surely would be more effective, were humans not so annoyingly tall. "Where the fuck are we?!" he spat out.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once—he heard a "Fuck, man, what-" from Beau, a "Well, Mister Thelyss" from the pirate, several hands trying to tug him away from the weak wizard—but he didn't pay them any mind. He just shook Widogast, who looked entirely too calm for his liking, and demanded: "Answer me!"

"Leave him," was all Widogast said. "He has every right to be angry."

Indeed, the people grasping at him retreated, still on guard and surrounding him. There was a creak outside the door and Verin desperately wished for his sword once more. Then, a voice cut through the tense silence that had descended over the kitchen: "Caleb, is that you? You're back early."

"Yeah, there were some complications. Best come and look yourself, Schatz."

There was a sigh that was entirely too familiar for Verin's liking. Then, the door opened with a creak and in walked a dead man. "Complications," Essek Thelyss said with a fond smile. "I was just a Sending away, what did you come here fo— oh."

The person wearing his brother's face stopped in their tracks as they saw him. A couple of complicated emotions passed over his face—confusion, surprise, regret, guilt. If he hadn't known before, Verin was certain now that they were impostors, all of them. His brother would never tolerate such a display of weakness. Still, the impostor said: "Hello, brother."

Verin whipped his head back around to the wizard in his grasp. "What the fuck are you playing at?" he hissed.

"I- what- Verin!" the Essek-impostor sputtered. "What are you doing; put him down!"

"I would appreciate that, yes," Widogast added.

"Not before you don't tell me what's going on."

"Going on?" The impostor sneered and shook his head in a perfect imitation of his brother. "Nothing is going on, Verin."

"You died," he accused him.

"Evidently not," Essek scoffed.

Verin narrowed his eyes, looking from the man claiming to be his brother over the other too calm wizard to the rest of the Nein, seemingly perfectly happy to let this play out. "Prove it," he demanded. "Tell me something only my brother would know."

"You've become paranoid," he noted and Verin couldn't decide if it sounded proud or disappointed. "Alright. When you and I were in our early thirties, you once got in trouble for scaling the outside of mother's mansion. Rightfully, I should have gotten in trouble, too, but I was hiding on the attic. And the reason you never told anyone, is because then you'd have had to explain that I, the wizard, had somehow outpaced you, the fighter, in a climbing competition."

Verin wrinkled his nose at that. "Well, my brother cheated."

"I did not cheat, thank you very much!" He huffed indignantly and crossed his arms. "You didn't say 'no magic' before we started."

He stared at Essek for a few moments. "It's you," he whispered.

"Obviously."

Verin dropped the wizard on the ground and looked over at his brother; really looked. The man looked nothing like the one he had known for most of his life. His hair was longer than it had ever been since he'd cut it off and his bare feet were touching the ground. His clothes were casual, a simple tunic and trousers. After this day, Verin knew for a fact that not even Essek's trancing clothes were that informal, and yet his brother looked more comfortable in them in another's house than he had in decades. On top of that, he kept glancing over to Widogast. And smiling. Essek was smiling.

No, this man looked nothing like the one Verin had known for nearly a century. But he looked a lot like his brother.

"You're alive," he said stupidly.

"Yes, of course I am," Essek said, as if Verin hadn't just attended his funeral.

It felt only right to tell him so: "Why are you alive? I was at your funeral."

"That's a long story," he sighed and floated onto one of the chairs that were slightly too tall for him. He accepted a cup of tea from Clay with thanks and turned back to Verin. "Why are you here?"

"Well, that's a pretty long story, too," Jester spoke up. "He kind of started freaking out about your earrings, I think? And he was crying and looking pretty awful and everything, right Caleb?"

"I, ah— didn't think he'd believe us if we told him about you," Caleb said. "So, we had agreed beforehand to bring him here, in case of an emergency."

"He thought we were lying," Clay added.

"I suppose it is my story to tell," Essek said. "Earrings, Verin?"

"They're your favourite," Verin said stupidly and held them out to him.

His face grew soft. "Oh," he said as he took them gingerly, "I didn't know that you kne—"

Before he could overthink and do something stupid like stop himself, he surged forward and enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a moment Essek closed his arms around him, too.

It seemed so unreal, to be able to hold him after mourning him for what felt like years. All the worries, all the grief and anger that had crushed him in the past few weeks and for what? For the bastard to still be alive after all. It wasn't fair. Why had he had to go through all of that? And why did he feel the pressing urge to start crying again? He should be happy, shouldn't he, that his brother wasn't dead. So why did it make him feel so awful?

"I think this is our cue to leave," Fjord said. Verin felt his brother nod and heard the Mighty Nein shuffle out of the kitchen, the door closing behind them with a creak. 

Only then, Essek spoke up. "Verin," he asked quietly, "are you crying?"

"Shut up," he mumbled through the thick fog of tears and snot, definitely not crying. "I hate you, Essek. Do you know what I went through?" 

"Meeting the Mighty Nein? Yes, I can imagine."

"They're horrible," he complained. "They're loud and they're rude and they had absolutely no respect for any of your belongings! I thought I was going mad."

"They are. They also are my friends, you know."

"How?" he asked agonised.

"I know they don't look like it, but they are surprisingly capable. And I am sure that you've noticed most of them to be annoyingly charming. But I think their absolute worst traits are their infinite stubbornness and perseverance. They quite literally did not leave me alone until they had befriended me."

Verin glanced up at him questioningly. "And were half in love with the wizard?" he guessed.

Essek scowled darkly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Perhaps."

He snorted and disentangled himself from their embrace. Very calmly he said: "You're a liar." 

Essek looked genuinely startled at that. "What?"

"You said, you trusted me more than him. Why then, did he know and I didn't?"

"It's... complicated," he said.

"You wizards say that a lot."

"Verin." Essek closed his eyes. "I trust you. Implicitly. And I care about you. Which is why I chose not to burden you with the knowledge of my misdeeds. I didn't— I didn't want to put you in an impossible situation to choose between me and our queen."

He laughed nervously. "What on earth are you talking about? I mean, you didn't commit treason or anything."

Essek didn't answer, avoiding eye-contact instead.

"Right?"

Still, Essek kept stubbornly quiet.

"Oh," Verin breathed. He took a moment trying to reconcile what he knew about his brother with the fact that he was apparently a traitor. It all fit together ridiculously easy. "The beacons."

Essek looked up at him in shock and he knew he had hit the mark. "What?"

"You stole the beacons." Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Essek had been studying them at the time, one of the only people with frequent access to them. He had always been fascinated by them, yet his theories had been rejected for their heretic nature. As Shadowhand, he had also regular contact with counterparts from the Empire, albeit not officially. Then, a few years after Essek’s research had been denied, they had vanished. How had he never seen this before?

"Oh Essek...," he said softly.

"No, please— I don’t—Please don’t—” He seemed to deflate, curling in on himself. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you, I—”

"I don't care,” Verin interrupted his frantic ramblings.

"What?" Essek looked up at him, looking just as shocked as Verin felt.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, realising that it was true the moment the words left his mouth. For how could he care about something as trivial as treason when Essek was sitting right in front of him, alive and well. "You're my brother, I don't care. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year. Maybe in ten. Right now, I only care that you're alive."

“I—What—I don’t—” Essek stuttered, lifting and then lowering his hands a few times. “I don’t know how— If I can—Fuck.”

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, but even he knew that this wasn’t the right time for it. Essek was obviously trying to tell him something and it took him a minute to decipher that strange behaviour. “Are you asking for a hug?” he hazarded a guess.

An agonised expression passed over his face and for a moment Verin thought there were tears gathering in his brother’s eyes. Surely not. “I don’t know if I may. I don’t mean to overstep—”

Without further ado, Verin stepped forward and gathered a yelping Essek up and squeezed him tightly. “Of course you may!” he assured him, awkwardly patting his shaking shoulders. “I love you, Essek. I am very glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m very glad to see you, too,” Essek answered and squeezed him a little tighter.

[erwinsvow]

𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

summary: he wasn't always alone. in fact, there was a time when levi had you.

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions/description of injury and patching up, levi needs sleep

author's note: been in the works for a while because i couldn't figure out what i wanted to do, but this takes place after levi & zeke's conversation and there will be an angsty part two, i hope everyone likes it! it doesn't really make much sense but bear with me :)

listening to: don't let me go

“I bet you’re not popular with the ladies. Don’t act like you know about someone’s feelings.”

He pauses, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“I know. And I was… popular enough.”

He lets his mind take him back, back a time before everything in the world was so messed up. When he knew what his responsibilities were, and when there were clear orders to follow. He can’t seem to recall when everything went straight to shit. It feels like it’s been a long time coming.

He knew he was screwed years ago, when he was trying to stitch up the deep gash on his shoulder by himself, sitting in his quarters with a bowl of warm water and bloody bandages. You had been helping the others, a traumatized recruit with a concussion and broken leg, courtesy of the fifteen meter that had overwhelmed him.

There were a few others too, especially a familiar face that seemingly always needed your assistance after a mission. He wondered just how many times the boy—because that’s all he is, a boy, and that’s all you are, a girl—could get away with the same old ruse.

Regardless, he wouldn’t be visiting you tonight. Never mind that the cut he’s trying to nurse by himself is nearly impossible to properly reach, and that he feels dizzy from consistent bleeding and lack of energy in his body. The alcohol he ingested to calm his nerves doesn’t really do anything, either, since there isn’t nearly enough of the stuff in his room to actually have an impact.

He’s going to crash soon, he knows, and even though sleep always evades him, he just wanted to get this wrapped up and lay down without making a bloody mess everywhere. He releases a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding. The very thought of you is enough to tense up every muscle in his body, and the idea of you being alone with that idiotic, improper recruit makes his fist tighten around the needle. Sewing himself up tonight is a lost cause. He finally decides a bandage, no matter how bloody it might become, will have to do.

He stands up, slowly because he doesn’t want to pass out from a head rush, when there’s a knock on the door. He groans a little too loudly at the sound of it. He doesn’t feel like talking to anyone tonight, especially in this condition, wearing a torn scrap of a shirt and blood trapped underneath his nails.

“Who is it?” he calls out harshly, wondering if maybe they’ll just leave if he sounds scary. The other scouts knew he didn’t like to be bothered, and wouldn’t have come unless there was an emergency. If it was Hange she would have barged in already, and he would have recognized Erwin’s heavy footsteps from down the hall. No, he knows who it is. He just wishes that he’s wrong.

“It- It’s me. Petra said you were hurt earlier and that it looked bad. I just wanted to make sure it was okay…” Your soft, hesitant voice trails off, and he knows how much courage it took for you to knock on his door.

What he doesn’t know is that there was no way you were falling asleep tonight without making sure Levi was okay, no matter how angry he would get at you for bothering him at night.

You’re bracing for that reaction when the door opens, but when your wide eyes meet his tired grey ones, you feel yourself melt and all the words in your head disappear. There’s only one fragment of a thought left, the fact that Levi’s bleeding, and a lot, at that. You don’t even wait for his permission to step inside, suddenly energized by anger and mumbling to yourself as you set down your supplies and rummage through them.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” he questions quietly. He tries to line his voice with steel like he always does, but the facade is fading with every passing minute.

“I have to clean out your wound, captain, before something festers. If you had told me about this, say, right when we got back, it would have been fine by now, but now I have to rush because you’re too proud to ask for help-” You still and silence yourself.

It was out of line to enter without permission, but this is something else all together. Caring too much is one thing, you know, but insubordination is not tolerated, especially not by Levi.

You pick up a clean needle and thin silk thread that you need to patch up the wound, while searching for the jar of boiled water you need to clean it out first. Alcohol would work too, and you can smell it in the air, but you can’t find the words to ask for it.

Levi’s hands are unusually still, you know because you always notice them, and it’s a stark contrast to the way you’re shaking right now. It’s strange, because you stitched up a handful of others earlier today, and you were completely fine. Even Gunther, who you had always thought was handsome and could make you blush with an off-hand smile, never incited this kind of reaction from you.

You’re silently praying that Levi doesn’t comment on the tremor, but since you’re about to dig a sharp point into his shoulder to tie the skin back together, it would be idiotic if he didn’t say something. You turn to look at him, but it feels like he’s not even there.

His head is hanging down, propped up by the single functional arm, as the other one continues to bleed. You know it’s painful and that he should be saying something, something that makes you stutter and stumble over your words like he always makes you, but he’s just silent.

“Well, get on with it then. If that’s really why you came here this late.” His voice makes you tremble even harder.

There’s so much you try hard at. You try to be the best soldier you can be, even though both you and your superiors know you weren’t meant for this. Sometimes you can fool your fellow soldiers, and the handful of people you can call your friends, and with a few years under your belt, it seems like it’s getting easier to live this life. But you know deep down that it’s not. The one person who always sees right through it is Levi, though.

It’s part of the reason why you’re such a damn mess around him, because there’s no reason to present a false veneer if he knows the truth. You’re not a real soldier, not a real fighter, and you’re more useful as a medic stitching people up than anything else.

And yet, it’s always him who saves you. Him, who makes sure that any threat in between you and the scout you’re trying to rescue from the brink of death is eliminated. Him, that keeps one eye on the target and one eye on your back just in case. And every time, every goddamn time you need to be rescued, he rescues you.

But now, with his head hanging low and any semblance of not knowing why he always saves you gone, it feels your chance to repay him has finally arrived. The shaking stops when you go to sit down near him. Maybe it’s the sudden rush of energy in your body, but you find yourself unbuttoning his shirt to remove whatever remains of the cloth.

His body tenses further, but he doesn’t stop you, and he doesn’t say anything. You’re as gentle and careful as you can be, and once you’re successful, you drop the mangled shirt on the floor. Taking the water, you pour it over the wound as Levi releases a soft hiss at the feeling, for which you’re apologizing before you can even realize the words have left your mouth. He doesn’t say anything, but his shoulder relaxing encourages you to keep going.

You take your time, trying to clean off all the blood you can. You think he’ll protest when you pick up his hands, and wash those too, but he doesn’t. It’s not until you run your own hand over his softly, squeezing the top of it because you don’t have any words to express the thoughts going through your mind, that he finally speaks up.

“Thank you.”

It’s so quiet, you could swear that you had imagined it. He doesn’t look up to meet your eyes like you wish he would, but a smile forces its way onto your face regardless. You focus on the hard part now; stitching up your captain and making sure your work doesn’t leave him with any scars. You focus on your technique, fingers working nimbly and mind focused on this, and for a short time, it doesn’t feel like you’re with your captain, your superior. It just feels like being there with Levi.

All the while, his brain is working overtime to figure out why you’re like this. Why you’re treating him so carefully and gently, when you have no reason to. He doesn’t pick favorites, and even if he did, you wouldn’t be anywhere near that list. You’re not the fastest, you’re not the most lethal, and in fact, he could count on one hand your titan kills and assists. You help people. You save people. But most of the time, you’re just recovering a half-dead soldier so that their body can be buried at home and not forced to remain out there, alone. You’re just there so that parents can have a grave to mourn at, instead of an empty tomb.

He doesn’t treat you better than anyone else, and most of the time assigns you more cleaning duties than the others. You always take it and never complain, something else that he always wonders about. He had come to the conclusion it was because he’s saved your life countless times, and the fact that he isn’t going to let up soon. So you take everything he gives you with a polite smile. And for some goddamn reason, he can’t get that smile out of his head, no matter how hard he tries. You don’t even know how you make him feel; like he’s special and that he deserves these attentions.

A particularly painful turn of the needle makes him flinch, and brings him back to reality. You’re apologizing again, murmuring how you’re almost done, but he doesn’t want you to leave yet. He lets his mind flicker over how you’re always apologizing, and how much he just wants to tell you that you don’t have to, not for anything. Not for having to come and save you, not for stitching him up, not for trying to fix him.

You let out a sharp breath once you finish, getting back up to fetch a dressing, but his hand grabs yours before you can get too far. Levi looks up, grey eyes full of an emotion you can’t exactly pinpoint, one you have never seen before from him.

“Will you stay a little longer?” And just like that, everything in the world seems to fall into place.

“Of course. Let me just wrap it up, first. I’ll stay as long as you want.” You’re surprised at yourself for finding the words so quickly, because your heart has never pounded so fast in your life. You fumble around, trying to find the right thing, hands shaking again, and you can’t seem to get them to stop.

You go back to Levi, wrapping the cloth around his shoulder and securing it around his arm, suddenly hyper aware of the feel of his skin. It’s softer than you had imagined it would be. Both of you sit in the silence for a while, your hand finding a place over his and rubbing soft circles on his knuckles with your thumb.

You want to say something, anything, but there aren’t any words that seem right. His fingers deftly work their way around yours, and you honestly wonder if he can hear your heartbeat or the blood rushing to your cheeks. It’s past midnight now, and you have a feeling dawn will be approaching before long.

“You should really sleep now. It won’t get better until you rest a little.” You’re speaking because his actions gave you a little bit of confidence, but he interprets it wrong almost immediately.

“Of course. You’d like to go now?”

“N-no! No, I just thought that, that you would be tired now. I can go if you want, I-”

“I don’t get much sleep anyways.” He doesn’t even mean to sound so dejected, but it comes out before he can stop himself. He’s spent too, too many nights laying awake, sleep ever-evading him, wondering how it might be to sleep besides you. Would he get some rest? Would he be able to close his eyes and not open them an hour later with a pounding chest? He can’t remember the last time he was able to fall asleep, and stay asleep. You don’t make any movement to get away, and he notices your hand twitch and wonders why.

You have to fight yourself internally to keep your hand down, and not wrap your arms around your captain as you process his words. Your heart feels strangely heavy at the thought of Levi laying awake, all alone, exhausted but unable to succumb to the ease of rest. He’s on guard, all the time, every minute of every day, and half the time he’s expending his energy on saving you.

You’re not confident, like some of the others. You never have been. But in this moment, you feel something rushing into your body and coursing through your veins, something close to confidence but slightly different. The feeling makes you release Levi’s hand and shed your sweater, and crawl into his bed. It’s almost exactly as you expected, and not nearly as soft or warm as your own. But you think about Levi sleeping soundly beside you, him peaceful and content, and it doesn’t matter how comfortable his bed is. You just want him to fall asleep.

He looks at you with a mix of emotions, surprise being mixed in with them. He hadn’t been expecting that, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate it.

You’re sitting under the covers now, waiting expectedly for something. A part of you fears that this wasn’t what he meant, or wanted, but your racing heart calms down a little at the sight of him coming in to get settled beside you. He releases a sigh when his shoulder hits the mattress, at ease finally, and so exhausted that every muscle in his body is about to give out.

He sleeps on his back, you note, before shifting your gaze to the ceiling quickly. You certainly don’t want him to notice that you’re staring, or that you keep fingering the soft sheets between your fingers to remind yourself this is real and really happening.

“Stop fidgeting.” His voice is quiet, and even, and stills you instantly. You finally lift your head to look at him, letting out a breath at how he looks. Eyes closed, almost peaceful, laying on his back with his hand resting right near you.

You’re not sure if it’s the confidence from earlier, or something new entirely, but you adjust the sheets to cover him more, pulling them and letting them rest on his chest. He doesn’t open his eyes, but you notice the way he jerks a little at the motion.

“Sorry, Levi,” you whisper, trying to remain as quiet as possible. You lay your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and letting your own eyes close. You can hear his every breath, the scent of his skin taking over and clouding your mind as every sense slowly focused on one thing; him. “Let’s sleep now.”

[starlight-loki]

I Will Carry You, Always (Loki x Reader)

Or, That Time Loki Was There To Comfort You

Word Count: 1054

Warnings: This deals with heavier feelings of sadness/questioning worth, loneliness, and describes a breakdown. That being said, this does end on a much warmer note than how it begins. Just a word of caution going in, just in case.

A/N: I've done a handful of fics where the reader comforts Loki, because we all know our fav Asgardian needs all the hugs, but sometimes it can be the other way around too.

Sometimes there's days where we need all the hugs as well.

May this imagine be a warm hug for you, if ever you need it ❤️ (title inspired by Carry You - Novo Amor :')

You had tried so hard to keep it together during the meeting.

You weren't sure exactly why you were feeling this... out of place with your own self. When you had woken up this morning, it felt as though you were slightly disconnected from your soul, a narrow and treacherous gap filled with the things that haunted you the most gaping out from inside of you.

You never spoke about these feelings. You felt that there were much more important matters that needed to be addressed. With the issues going on in the world that the Avengers needed to deal with, your own feelings were trivial in comparison. You'd deal with this sadness yourself, as hard as the waters were to navigate sometimes. There had been many storms like this in the past, this was nothing new. You knew that these feelings would fade, it was only a matter of when.

You kept your head down as best as you could during the meeting Tony had called that day, speaking only when spoken to and keeping your gaze on the table. You rendered yourself as invisible as you possibly could, and it felt safer that way. You were out of the way of everyone else, a casualty to be avoided.

Somewhere during the meeting, your mind drifted back in time. You thought of the child you once were, the way the world seemed effortless -- lighter even -- as if you could lift the entire universe like Atlas himself. You longed for that innocence again. You wondered how your younger self would react if ever you travelled back in time, and the thought brought tears to your eyes.

What you would do to have this heaviness disappear.

You excused yourself with a voice barely higher than a whisper and stepped out of the meeting room briskly. Your heart pounded in your chest as you thought back to the others in the meeting room. Did they notice you? Did any of them see the way your eyes turned glassy before you raced out of the room.

You hoped not, but there was a near-imperceptible part of you that wished someone did. Anyone, really.

You made it halfway down the hall to your room when you heard someone stepping cautiously behind you. You slowed your pace, but didn't turn around. You didn't want to face whoever had decided to follow you, you didn't want them to see the way you were falling apart.

"Y/N?"

It was Loki. You could recognize his voice anywhere.

Maybe it was the magnitude of his presence, maybe it was his tone of voice, maybe it was even the fact that he knew darkness better than anyone, you weren't really sure. But something about the way he said your name nearly brought you to your knees right there on the spot. You couldn't fight the sob that betrayed you as it escaped louder than you anticipated, and you covered your mouth quickly with one hand.

Your shoulders trembled as you cried, and you felt a warm hand rest softly on your shoulder as Loki gently spun you around to face him. You kept you eyes shut, moving your hands to cover your face as best as you could so he wouldn't have to see you this way.

"Oh, Y/N..."

Loki didn't ask you what was wrong, he simply pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you protectively. You clung onto him as if the world depended on it, and one of his hands moved to caress your hair softly as the other traced small circles comfortingly across your back.

"I'm sorry," you squeaked, keeping your cheek pressed against his shoulder. You were pretty sure you currently looked as though you had crawled through hell and back, and you didn't want Loki to see you this way.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You weren't sure why you kept apologizing, but you repeated the words over and over until they felt hollow in your mouth. You heard Loki make a sound of protest as he kissed your temple, almost as if to silence your apologies.

"Stop that." He commanded, his voice gentle yet firm as his grip tightened against you. "Stop saying such things."

"I-I'm sorry."

That earned a halfhearted chuckle from the god, as well as a short breathy laugh on your part as well.

Loki stepped away from you slightly, moving his hand to your chin and encouraging you to look at him. His eyes met yours, and concern filled his features as he took you in. You could see the knowledge of thousands of years in his gaze, and with it, uncountable years of pain seemed to surface in his green eyes as well.

You opened your mouth to explain, but Loki shushed you gently. He shook his head with the most gentle smile gracing his features.

"You don't have to explain." He murmured warmly. "I understand."

You sniffled, and Loki brushed the tears off your cheeks with the softest of touches.

"I understand more than you'll know." He whispered once more, bringing his arms back around you. He tucked your head protectively under his chin as you returned his embrace and held on as tightly as you could.

"Thank you."

It felt nice to have Loki here. It was different, and scary at first -- especially when you weren't able to hold in your tears in front of him -- but now that the Asgardian was here holding you in his arms, you didn't want him to leave.

"You're so strong, Y/N." Loki kissed the top of your head as he spoke in a low voice. "You have endured so much, and here you still are, with a heart of pure gold."

You couldn't help but let out a small bitter laugh. "And how do you know that?"

"We share the same sadness." Loki whispered. "I feel it. It runs through my soul the same way it runs in yours."

You didn't reply, and instead you inhaled deeply as you let your head rest against Loki's chest. There was something just so warm and real about him. You could hear his heartbeat, and it comforted you like the weight of a soft blanket.

"You're safe, Y/N." Loki whispered, placing one last gentle kiss to your forehead. "It will be alright."

Taglist: @startrekkingaroundasgard @delightfulheartdream @justasmisunderstoodasloki @marvels-mischief @k8obr @pastyoverlord265 @lowkeytesss @levylovegood

[aeniqmata]

          @diabolikxyui​ wanted some pain || source

“what? no! no, i’m not going to leave you,” she hurriedly replied, instinctively stepping forwards towards him instead of away. the step contradicted her next words, as yui continued, “i’ll… i’ll stay out your way, i can watch for myself. i’m not stupid, and i’m not always needing to be watched. or saved.”

“but I’m not leaving you!”

she was definitely scared. as she had said, she wasn’t stupid and this situation was scary. yui knew that. she had a vague idea now of what was going on, and realised she didn’t exactly have any skill set that would assist. it was a harsh truth that she was just tagging along beside him.

she didn’t want to be a burden.

but she also wasn’t about to abandon him. that was awful. worries eyes watched him carefully, but there was some steel there too. a determination. even if it was just encouragement from the sidelines, or waiting until the end to patch up a wound (THAT was something she was very good at). she had seen enough bloody things and fighting. she could stand to see some more, even if she didn’t want to.

“there must be something i can do, and if… if we don’t know what that is yet, i’ll think of it. but you can’t just go around ordering me away like that!”

she knew there wasn’t time for him to chat. a hand reached out towards him, hesitant, before she drew it back. “please. do what you have to do. but… don’t tell me to leave. i can watch myself for a while.”

He wouldn’t have the chance to respond, the Shadow they were fighting so much stronger than they’d expected, and it’d handily taken a few of them off the battlefield. As it was, he was doing his best to dodge and keep away from the thing’s weapons, giving his teammates time to leave before he followed with Oracle’s help. So while her response caused a flash of irritation at his orders not being followed, he quickly calmed back down when he reminded himself that she was not a fighting member of the team.

She hadn’t been through all of it like they had, and didn’t understand that he only took that tone when things were dire.

“ Fox! You, Queen, Skull, and Panther take her and head out. I’ll be out when you all are clear. Go, now! “ It was only practice that kept him calling the correct names, slight panic nearly causing him to call out the other’s real name. Joker knew that his commands would be followed, and dedicated himself fully to distracting the Shadow and allowing the remaining two teammates to join the others.

She wouldn’t get the chance to respond, Fox grabbing her around her waist and hauling her over his shoulder as they took off. He’d give a small apology at the treatment, but knew that if a retreat was ordered, there was likely something that the rest of them hadn’t seen.

Joker didn’t give combat orders like that often, knowing his team could handle it without issues. Once Queen had joined them and started teaching the remainder of the group some tactics, plus Futaba’s ever watchful eyes, the most he had to do was give small commands for flanking or tactics changes.

“ He’ll be ok, Fox. You know how Joker is, he’s quick and he’s not about to let a Shadow get the best of him. “ Queen spoke up after a moment, reassuring the blue haired male. And he knew this, knew that his lover was going to make it out even if it took every drop of energy that he took. But still it wouldn’t stop the anxiety from creeping up on him.

“ What if he doesn’t... I can’t leave Akira back there by himself like that. I-- I know he has Mona and Noir, but... “

They’d stopped moving at this point, Fox barely having the wherewithal to put his cargo down before he fell entirely into his anxiety driven thoughts. It was only practice that kept him from running back, knowing full well that the remaining team members wouldn’t leave without him either.

“ He’ll be ok! That guy’s got some weird amount of luck. I mean we all do but man, he’s on another effin level! “