#which is what I try to avoid because I hate hair maintenance

[rotisseries]

contemplating getting the tiktok masc/90s boyband heartthrob/jo from muna haircut rn....

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

warning(s): nsfw/18+, fighting (verbal/physical), toxic relationship stuff, fingering, thigh riding, pussy eating, squirting,

synopsis: the bitchy, possessive, and temperamental gf who paige thinks she can handle proves her right!

word count: 2.4k

Author Note: got my first lil hate comment the other day 😜 i feel like an actual writer now lmao! here goes draft #6, comin’ in lit 🔥

Fuck knows what you're complaining about this time. She's straight from practice — from a rigorous, exhausting, and intense practice, frustrated with her own performance, only to find you waiting at the door, already irritated about something entirely. Perhaps it was how she didn’t answer you at all today—or how you saw her looking too close for comfort to another 'fan' as she claimed, though you never trusted it—or maybe she even fucking sighed at you the wrong way upon entering through the door because the littlest of things ticked you off—you—her bitchy, demanding, and infuriatingly sexy girlfriend, whom Paige has to constantly remind herself she willingly got involved with, knowing full well she was signing up for the being the figurative property of the brattiest, bossiest, most high-maintenance girl on campus.

"Are you even listening to me?!" you fume as Paige storms past you, stripping a trail of her clothes all the way to the bathroom, letting her hair fall loose from its low bun as she saunters away from your chaos, massaging her temples.

"Seriously, Y/N, now's not the time, I gotta-" - "I don't give a fuck!" you explode, chasing after her and grabbing her arm to spin her back around. "I don't care about your shitty day or your shitty excuses. Why the fuck didn't you text me back, hm?" Paige sighs, avoiding your eyes with an air of exasperation, her gaze shifting to the ceiling in an attempt to not roll them. At her silence, you feel your anger boil over, frustration evident in the clenched fist at your sides and the tense set of your jaw. "You're the fucking worst, Paige!" you snap, "You think just because I'm understanding that means you can take pictures with all these other bitches, post all on your Instagram, but then NOT text me back!"

Paige knew she was the man, the kind of person who could handle any challenge, which is why she thought dating someone like you—a real piece of work—would be a good match. She believed you could keep her on her toes, pushing her to become mentally stronger, more confident, and dominant—qualities she hoped would shine on the court, but on days like this, when you demanded drama and chaos, she wondered if she was truly cut out for it. Her honest, no-bullshitting, no-pretense attitude of: My girlfriend is so sexy opinion? Nah. And she promptly proved that stance when she spat out, “Alright, I’m sorry, baby… Is that what you want me to say? That I’m sorry I have things to do and you act like a bitch about it?” her voice venomous and defensive, stunning you. “Man, get the fuck out of my way right now. I don’t feel like fighting with you, for real,” she demanded, trying to brush past you. You couldn’t believe she actually spoke to you like that—she was usually so considerate of your feelings. In a fit of rage, you squared up to her and pushed her back by her shoulders with a strength you didn’t know you had over the 6ft wall of strength she was. Growling, you commanded, “You’re gonna stand here until WE’RE done talking!”

Paige stands with her hands on her hips, clenching at her sides with such restraint that her basketball shorts ride up, revealing her boxers underneath. She warns, "Stop playin' with me, yo. Step aside." and as she advances again, trying to get to the bathroom door behind you, you block her path, arms crossed and eyes flashing. Sneering, you challenge defiantly, "No. What are you gonna do if I don’t step aside, P? Hm? You gonna hit me?"

She takes a deep breath, drops her head, and shakes it exasperatedly before a light chuckle escapes her, broad shoulders bouncing. “Whatever, ma,” she mutters, turning around and picking up the clothes she’d left scattered on the floor. “I’m gonna go shower at Mikayla’s — forget this.”

You don’t have enough time to be angry about her saying she’s visiting Mikayla’s house—the slut you’d warned her to stay away from. Instead, you sprint to the front door, grab her keys off the rack, and hide them behind your back. Coldly, you say, “You’re mine, Paige. Turn around and get your ass in bed, NOW! You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Paige knows you and your past well enough to recognize that you aren’t joking about this possessiveness. However, she’s far from intimidated at the moment. Instead of backing down or appeasing you like she usually does for her princess, she glares at you with a fiery defiance. Her voice is firm as she refutes, “Give me my keys, Y/N.”

You gaze at her, a smirk forming on your face as you watch her façade of nonchalance crumble. Her face turns a subtle red, veins bulging in her hands as she holds them open, waiting for the keys, her lips curled inward and cheeks hollowed. She stands there expectantly, like a statue, until you bristle as she seizes your wrist, slamming it against the door while reaching for the keys with her other hand. Instinctively, you counter with your free hand, pushing her away. She’s lost her calm and collected demeanor. It’s scarier how she doesn’t run but still chases you with the relentlessness of a predator. Her eyes blaze with determination as she follows your running with a steady, purposeful stride. You taunt, “Come and get it, doggy! Yeah, you little bitch!” luring her toward the bathroom, the only room in the house with a lock, and Paige knows exactly what you’re up doing. Just before you can slam the door in her face, Paige lunges for it and forces it open, stepping inside and backing you against the door. This time, she tries a different approach to get the keys—she clasps your waist, holding you in place with her knees pressed against your smaller legs, effectively immobilizing you. As she tussles with you for the keys, you keep a tight grip on them. The struggle is fierce, and you're both panting in each other’s faces, exchanging only ragged breaths. You finally manage to break free from the bathroom and run for the bedroom with Paige hot on your heels. As you glance over your shoulder to see where she’s at, you realize too late that she’s no longer focused on reclaiming her keys. With a swift tackle, she takes you down onto the bed, pinning you there and forcing you into submission. The keys fall out of your hand, but Paige remains on top of you, her anger unrepairable as she growls, “Wanna bitch at me like that when I’m tired?” Her big hands begin to untie your nightrobe. “Wanna piss me off when I’m trying to be nice about things?”

She moves with an almost animalistic quality, yanking you down the bed by your legs and sending your clothes flying off with the force of her pull, baring your body to her hungry blue eyes. She hisses against your neck, “Little bitch?” and you nod rebelliously, “Yeah..fuck,” you heave, “look at you, so pissed, hm?” Her words are unbearably sexy when she vows, “I’ll show you a little bitch.” Mere moments later, she’s seated on the edge of the bed, with you draped over her lap like a ragdoll. You’re writhing, still trying to resist, biting and clawing at her thighs, but Paige’s grip is unyielding. Under her strength, you’re completely powerless.

Her hands spread your ass open, giving her a clear view of your dripping pussy. She chuckles cockily, the smirk evident in her voice even though you're not looking at her when she drawls, “This is why you’re really bitchin’ out, huh, ma?”

You whine at her words, stuttering and squirming, “Let me go, Paige, f-fuck!”

She tuts dismissively. “Aw, but that’s not what you really want, baby... you just need this pussy fucked, don’t you? To get fucked back to your senses—make you my good girl again, my princess...” she purrs, her fingers sliding through your slick and teasing your asshole. Then you hear the dirtiest, most sinful suck of fingers in her mouth you’ve ever heard.

Hips arched high with her strong arm restraining you from running, pressed firmly into your lower back, punching pressure deep within and outside of you, all aligning on the inside, she works her fingers into your soaking wet cunt with precision. She curls and bruises against your walls, relentlessly hitting that spot that makes you squirm like a torture puppet and cry out, "Ah!" for your dear life.

Her smarmy, taunting response? “I know, baby, I know, fuck… too tight for it, I know,” she bellows, feeding off your whimpers and whines with a sadistic delight. That smirk on her face—the one you wish you hadn't turned back to see—tells you she's savoring this victory a little too much and has no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if you've clearly accepted that you're the little bitch. “Please,” you plead, sinking your nails into her thigh, but it doesn’t seem to perturb her in the slightest—if anything, it only eggs her on, makes her devilishly speed up. “It won’t happen again—I-I won’t act like a bitch anymore, daddy, I’m sorry,” you submit, hoping for some mercy, but she’s unforgiving. She chuckles darkly, yanking you up by your hair so you’re forced to look her in the eye, even if hers aren’t fully focused on yours, watching how your tits bounce as she fucks you senseless. “One more time,” she stares at them, biting her bottom lip with a smirk before she refocuses and demands it sternly. Without hesitation, you repeat it louder before she even finishes her command: “I won’t act like a bitch anymore, daddy, I’m sorry!” She smirks, her grip tightening. "I know you won't. Not after I'm done with you." She releases your head, and you fall forward hard, your back arching under what feels like tons of weight as she drives into you overwhelmingly, making you cry out in shock. "Shit!" you gasp, involuntarily pushing back against her long fingers to soften the blow and the jam, so forcefully that your ass claps with each thrust as she fucks into you.

“Say my name, baby, who’s fucking you,” Paige demands. You groan, clenching around her thick, long fingers and spilling spurts of slick arousal as you pant, “You, Daddy!” Paige tilts her head, unsatisfied. “Nah.” Her hand, once forcing down your back, quickly wraps around your throat, clasping firmly as she whispers, “Tell me, Ma.” With the blonde holding you tightly, despite your attempts to escape, with no leverage, she easily grips you by the throat like a puppet, forcing you back onto her fingers with insane speed and force. She thrusts into you even faster, your clit now grinding against her thigh. You hike a leg up in a desperate attempt to run or crawl away, but she's got you firmly in place.

“Paige! Paige, Paige, Paige, you’re fucking me!” you cry out.

“And you like it, baby? Like how my fingers feel fucking that tight pussy?” she taunts, flexing her leg muscles and increasing the friction.

“Aww shit,” you moan strainedly, feeling the familiar coil in your stomach emerge. Your body still tries to crawl away, but your brain forces you to stay put, losing all the air inside you.

“Stop fucking running, ma, take it,” she commands. “Take it, baby, just cum for me, kay? Cum for me, give me your cum.”

You listen to the sound of your cunt, feel it pulsing and clenching around her fingers before you give up and stop fighting and allow all the pleasure crash over you, your body convulsing as your orgasm hits. You gasp and cry out, surrendering to the intense sensation as your cunt tightens rhythmically around her fingers, your clit throbbing against her thigh. She fucks you through your orgasm, continuing even after that, giving you no recovery time, no chance to catch your breath before she has you on your back, legs still spread and a wet mess beneath you. Leaning in, she murmurs, “Be good for me, be still, kay? Let me clean you up—jus' lemme taste you, baby.”

Your hand comes up to cover your face, crying out as you feel her tongue glide through your folds. Gripping onto her hair tightly, you sob—a genuine cry from the overstimulation. Through your tears, you manage to gasp, “Fuck, baby, it hurts so good, ugh!”

You shout and clamp your legs shut, burying her with a guttural scream once her fingers scissor your folds and hold them open, her tongue flicking exactly against your clit, making direct contact.

She pries your legs open inhumanly, like an uncaring monster, her voice resounding and vibrating in your cunt, "Hold your ankles in the air." a command.

You obey, and she’s even nice enough to help, her strong arms holding your legs apart as she laps and slurps up all your cum like she’s parched, her swallows audible and incredibly sexy.

You look down at her and watch her head shake around wildly, losing herself in the abyss, entranced. You try to push her away by bucking into her face, hands occupied, but you end up unintentionally pushing her closer instead. You whine out desperately, your toes, nipples, and cunt especially on fire. "Pl-PLEASE!" you gasp, "I c-can't, I’m gonna—" Her fingers replace her tongue on your clit, while her tongue dips inside you as she murmurs, "Mhm," You cover your face, and the last thing you hear before you pass out is the frantic noise of her tongue fighting to slip even deeper inside you. There’s the sound of a leak, then the subsequent opening of your eyes after what feels like days. You look down at your girlfriend to find her face glistening in a pool of arousal, juices smeared everywhere. Her first instinct? To lick around her mouth, trying to savor the taste as she smiles at you smugly, knowing she’s clearly gotten her point across to your fucked-out self.

Needless to say, Paige has proven herself to you as she knew she would always: she is NOT someone to be underestimated.

MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: uhh so i reread this and i just wanna know if anybody else reading this who writes, is it crazy i reread my own work and blush at it like a viewer 😅 am i a freak guys 😅😅😅 do you do that too?? ANYWAY GUYS PLS INTERACT WITH ME ILY ALL MWAH!

[weebsinstash]

More Val pls 😭 there’s never enough of him

I like this nasty man an unhealthy amount so I could just spit ball some random concepts I've been having for him

-I've been playing around with the different products and things I do to my hair and it made me think of like, since Val is so materialistic and likes having "pretty company" that he starts obsessing over Reader and their hair. Like, I mentioned before a concept "oh what if Reader's hair or eyes or something on them glowed" cause, you know, hes a moth, and you're just sitting chilling during or after your shift and like, he's on the phone or doing something where you aren't 100% paying attention to him and he just. Reaches over and starts playing with your hair. You're trying not to side eye him and give him weird looks in confusion as he's just casually twisting a strand of your hair around a finger, maybe running his fingers through it, just kind of, all but palming the top of your head. And you can't ask him what the fucking deal is because he's on the phone and you're just a server and you don't want him to potentially give you the pimp hand for interrupting what sounds like a potential business deal (and of course that's his intention). he's just getting his hands and fingers all up in that shit while you can't say anything while he's seeing your hair texture, where your parts are, the state of your hair and your scalp, maybe you catch a scowl or two if you have an issue like accidentally using too much conditioner or he sees any dandruff, making a mental note to "fix you later"

-couple that with another idea of "Valentino making you hate your own hair and maybe since it glows its white or something and one day he EXTREMELY pisses you off and the very next shift you have you slam his drink down on the table 'here you go Mr Valentino ^^' and he looks up and you've dyed your hair jet black and it doesn't glow now and he INSTANTLY drags you to HIS salon and his hair stylist to get all that out of your hair without damaging it (and maybe you even dyed it wrong or with the wrong materials to try and damage it or make the dye permanant on purpose just to piss him off and hope he leaves you alone, which he doesnt)

-Be high maintenance to be low maintenance. He wants to see you all fixed up without garnering animosity from, well, the hoes. Everyone is in the limo and he says some shit like how recently everyone's been earning him a lot of money so he's gonna treat everyone and he's just kind of like "and you can come too I guess 🙄" as if he's just throwing you in there as an extra but in actuality this is him avoiding anyone going "but Daddy why do THEY get XYZ and not me 🥺" because if he could, like, he'd just be a two faced asshole and blatantly pamper you while neglecting his hardest workers like, say, Angel. I've even considered, like, what if Valentino notices huge changes in Angel's positivity and obedience and just overall demeanor after he hangs out with you (because remember, Angel has a little sis who presumably went to Heaven and he misses her a lot) and Valentino kind of makes you two a package deal: if he keeps you happy, you help keep Angel happy and easier to manipulate

-like just imagine Angel is trying to stick up for himself amd tell Val, hey maybe I don't wanna sleep with that john, he's a real fuckin creep, and Valentino just cocks a brow, "oh, you want me to have your little friend do it instead?" And Angel is just alright sir right away sir thank you for this opportunity Mista Valentino 😊 like. Depressing

-another idea I've had is like, what if Valentino actually didn't even really care for you but VOX does and once he starts paying attention to you, it sucks Val in. And this kind of ranges from everything of "you're kind of a gamer/dweeb like Vox and you two click" to "you produce music and Vox is aware of/fan of your stuff, or Velvet is if Reader is like, an idol, because why not for fun lmao" to "you're a chick but you're a little more 'butch and tough' than Val's other girls and he's like a bottom or a switch and he likes that

Like can you imagine like, everyone is in the limo when it pops a tire or some shit and everyone has to get out on the sidewalk, and maybe someone on limo maintenance fucks up and there's no jack, or maybe one of the drivers is too dumb to know how to properly remove a tire, and Vox and Val are just getting progressively pissed off and, there you are, rolling up your sleeves and just, reaching down and, getting the breaker bar to finally spin and loosen the bolts around the tire, or even reaching down and picking up the limo (because really, where is the fun in putting Reader in a world with magic and powers and not getting anything ourselves"

Or someone comes to try and kill Val because he's a gangster and maybe he fucked someone over on a deal and that secret second job I.M.P training of yours kicks in and you practically become John Wick. You do some sly shit like idk catch Vox from falling and tripping or pulling him just out of reach of getting fucked up and all but pull him into a tango dip and maybe to lighten the mood you try to joke around "hey handsome you come here often?" While you're holding him up with your strength like he weighs nothing and he's just PINK and later on he's laying with Val in bed "hey I think I might be bi actually???" while Val pokes and prods to find out who tf he's talking about

-I've thought of really just goofy concepts for fun like, what if there's a dance competition with a cash prize and Reader who is maybe male in this idea is on the downlow but is like a dance major or even a hip hop superstar and he enters the competition and he's nearly in the semifinal round and suddenly the shows like "and for an extra special guest judge today we have the Porn King of Pentagram City, Valentino!!!" and your blood runs cold because like you're not exactly stripping but there have been quite a few dances where you've been dropping your ass a lil bit and being just more than a little zesty and Valentino turns his eyes to you and he's got just the most smug "I caught your ass" smirk on his face. The version of you Valentino knows is blunt and quiet and doesn't talk much, all but over compensating masculinity, and yet here you are, shaking that waist and ass of yours until he wants to squeeze you with all of his hands.

-honestly just concepts in general where Reader turns out to have some sort of artistic gift are fun. Reader is an author and Valentino finds out your porn is actually pretty good, or maybe he's entertained the quiet shy mousey little you had a nasty side, or maybe the numbers you reach on your stuff screams money to him. Or he brings you to a club and the track on the speakers change and your face lights up "oh my god I wrote this!" And its a song from when you were alive and you rush to the dance floor to whip out some choreography way too planned and precise to just be some bullshit you're whipping out of nowhere and maybe even singing as people in the club instantly recognize you as formerly-alive fans

Honestly its a little wacky but imagine the like tonal difference, the dichotomy, the black and white difference of, Valentino being this absolute fucking pervert and you're like this shy not very talkative person and he finds out like you're some poppy preppy bouncy feminine lil idol like some SAYU or Kyary Pamyu Pamyu shit and he's laughing in your face and maybe his pal Velvet comes into the room and her eyes just light up and suddenly she's shoving her phone in Valentino's face to show him your newest hit "Let Me Skip Into Your Heart (And Also Suck You Off) feat. Verosika Mayday" with like 2.5 million views in three months and he's like "ok I GUESS you have SOME talent 🙄" while he's also having an internal battle "wait do I have I new fetish for wanting to rip girly dresses and thigh highs off this bitch 🤔"

Honestly just "Valentino finding out you're a celebrity/influencer" ideas have been kind of fun. Imagine he's just minding his own business and one of his workers is sitting next to him watching something on their phone and he looks over and its a makeup tutorial, by you, or you're reviewing a certain product while making people laugh, or you're doing some like Stanzi Potenza sorta comedy or something, and he glances down to the metrics and likes amd view counts and its huge and he just glances across the limo to you and you're. In your work uniform, hair barely combed, you have some new acne breakouts, you have bags under your eyes, posture is shit because you're exhausted, but, that's definitely you and now he gets to find out the sheer scope of what you've been up to, and maybe becoming a manager of yours in the process

Ive even thought of like, what if Reader offhandedly gave Valentino some business advice and it turned out working really well and he consults you from time to time. Like imagine Valentino is talking business and you're around and he's talking about profits and shit and like, maybe the amount of people who want to sleep with his top earners is down, even not as many people want Angel to satisfy Val's green, and maybe you just kind of offhandedly butt into the conversation without even looking up from your phone "well maybe its because he's a porn star. If you just like created a celebrity or an idol or a micro celebrity or something who was attractive and then you pimped them out in secret it would probably make you a ton of money, like of Beyonce started her career as a stripper that would put a ton of people off but if you told people they could secretly fuck Beyonce the musician they would sell their entire families for it" and maybe that segues into "Reader becomes some sort of idol or entertainer or singer or product for Valentino that he eventually pimps out (or even decides he won't because he's too jealous, you can sing and dance but HE'S the only one you can sleep with)

God I can't wait until Hazbin comes out this year. I HAVE to know what this man sounds like because the voice and finally seeing and hearing his speaking will be everything 😩❤️ or it could backfire and I might not like the finished product as much as the one I've built up in my head but, thems the breaks right?

[deerblossoms]

i need to buy a new journal. i have a sketchbook i occasionally use to write in but it’s not its purpose and i have no drive to write in it, really. yesterday i wore my new steve madden mary janes to drop off a resume at molasses and when i got home the tops of my feet were cut up and leaking. i don’t want to put a bandaid on them. today i thought i’d stab myself. no real intent, just a wild thought that put me in a trance. of one deep, red, flowing hole in my forearm.

i would love to work at a bookstore. if i could work somewhere and set a playlist and then read all day, reorganize books, sweep and lock up, i’d be so happy. if i could be happy i would be. if i have to go to work today i think i’ll die, but i’m on the train anyway. i could have an interview on friday and i will go to the artist and craftsman in williamsburg and buy oil paints for noel’s portrait. i keep reminding myself why i don’t go on instagram anymore. matt followed me but he hasn’t texted me. matt and kayla follow each other and i wonder if they’re still friends or if they’re dating. i don’t know why it bothers me. sometimes i think about texting her and asking to meet up for coffee and by coffee i mean i’m hoping for bathroom sex even if i know it wouldn’t happen. i haven’t done it because it’s a bad idea and i have incredible impulse control or maybe i just don’t have the energy to take risks anymore.

today i got a free pastry from the coffeeshop that i know i can’t eat but i might anyway but see above & therefore the truth is i probably won’t. i feel like hibernating and becoming new and by that i mean i’m waiting for my hair to grow out before i try going clubbing. i read all of ‘i’m thinking of ending things’ this morning and it was thoroughly chilling & creepy. noel couldn’t believe i read the whole book in two hours but i maintain it’s a pretty a short book. these new iphone cameras catch every pore and i have never been more self-conscious. and of course that’s intentional and everything’s tied to everything and i am just a pawn. but i’m trying to get off the grid anyways. i would like to go to the dentist and fix my teeth. they need general maintenance and probably some cavities filled knowing me but also they’re so yellow and i feel like they stick out and i’d even get braces, maybe. which would be embarrassing but then one day my teeth wouldn’t stick out anymore. sometimes i’m scared i’m ruining myself but isn’t that just age? i never wanted to take care of myself as a kid and now i’m learning what it means to hate what you see in the mirror.

joan and i haven’t talked much recently and i am okay with it. i’m just too easily obsessive about things anyways and so i’m giving them space. it’s sad how much it used to bother me but now i feel secure that nothing’s wrong and they just haven’t felt like talking. i’m not sure i feel much like talking either but i do miss their company. i’m concerned with how they’re handling their breakup but i trust them and believe they’re okay. i want to visit washington again now that it’s fall. i wonder if i could ask margarita if i could stay with them. sometimes new york looks so beautiful on its own and sometimes i look out of the train car from the bridge and the skyline next to the water makes me think of seattle even though the cities look nothing alike. but then it looks beautiful in a different way. if i’d gone to cornish i would have a BFA this spring. but i would have never gone to cornish. maybe if things had turned out differently i could’ve worked something out. i could have just taken my SATs and took honor classes in my senior year and and then applied after a gap year but knowing me i would have been too impatient and i would’ve wasted a year and a half begging. my parents’ abuse taught me how to wait. but it never happened so it doesn’t matter and isn’t worth thinking about. i am avoiding people and reaching out to people who avoid me so clearly i’m craving solitude and ensuring i experience it. someone i worked with for three weeks dmed me on instagram to ask if kayla and i broke up and told me i didn’t have to answer. but why would you even ask? she’s a grown woman too. i’m not going to respond and am a little annoyed by it but truly i just think it’s silly. i almost quit today. i wouldn’t have ever gone through with it but i wanted to so badly. this job makes me crazy. the building makes me crazy. the mundanity drives me insane. but once i get on the train there’s nothing more to think about. clocking on is an inevitability and instinct and muscle memory and reason beat impulse. there was an ice cream shop in seattle called moo moo’s, i think. i don’t know why i’m thinking about it now. i went there once late at night and, despite everything i’d ever done in seattle before it, the memory feels like my first taste of living in a city. ‘i’m thinking of ending things’ says all memory is fiction but my whole life has felt like fiction and it’s only when someone’s fingers are in my hair gently untangling my curls that i feel in the moment, real. everything else is just something i’ve written.

i miss the pink braids i wore two years ago. i could never get an even part and the braids stuck out like pippi longstocking’s but when i looked in the mirror my reflection smiled back, ruddy and beautiful.

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 19 - Date

Summary: Gojo takes you out on a date.

A/N: (18+ / minors and ageless blogs dni) - this chapter is kind of long, I am sorry - I hope it isn’t all over the place. please note, I have never visited Japan so I loosely based the location off of images I saw of Tokyo Dome City lol. I also wanted to give @rosenkow a shoutout for helping me out with this chapter! <3 if you need reference on the necklace scene, check out Chapter 15 - Unrequited.

TAGS: somnophilia (mentioned/consensual), light smut, fluffy fluff and maybe a pinch of angst. 

“I’m sorry, you let this man violate you with a lollipop?!”

You clutched the phone tighter against your ear, your eyes darting around to ensure that the strangers passing by you on the street weren’t listening in on the detailed conversation you were having with your best friend.

“Seriously? You’re going to shame me?” you whispered, “I distinctly remember you telling me, in vivid detail might I add, how you licked chocolate off your ex’s body after your first date….”

“Yeah but chocolate is different, everyone knows it’s perfect for sex. Besides, I make candies for a living and lollipops just cross a line for me…”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it…”

Rina laughed, “I can’t believe that white haired string bean is turning my best friend into such a lewd person…”

“Ha-ha,” you mocked, “Can I please continue to the important part of the story?”

“You mean him using the lollipop as a makeshift dildo wasn’t the important part?”

Your face grew hot and you couldn’t help but cover your mouth as a shy giggle escaped you.

“Stop making me laugh! This is supposed to be a serious conversation…”

“Okay, okay…I just have one more question…”

“What is it?”

“Sooo, you know how he has white hair, right?”

“Actually, I take that back. I don’t like where this question is going…”

“I’m just dying to know if the carpets match the drapes…”

“And you say that I’m the one that’s obscene!”

“Well? Is his hair white…down there, too?”

You pressed your lips together, shaking your head disapprovingly. You felt like a  gossiping schoolgirl but you couldn’t remember the last time you were this giddy over somebody. You quickly side stepped around a person who walked in front of you to avoid them as you turned the corner.

“Yes,” you answered into the phone, “and he’s quite particular about maintenence…”

“Fascinating…” Rina teased but did little to hide her amusement. “So, in between the two of you fucking like rabbits, Gojo confessed his feelings for you?”

Your heart thumped in your chest.

“Yes he did,” you confirmed. 

“And then he asked you out on a date?”

“Mhmm…”

“Which was last night?”

Your body lit up like a firecracker thinking about the past twenty four hours.

“Last night…” you murmured, biting your bottom lip subconsciously as you brought your index finger to hook around the necklace you were wearing. “I was a nervous wreck all week leading up to it! Meanwhile, Satoru was fine because he always acts like everything is normal between us…I hate that he does that so easily…”

“Come on, how is this any different from what you both have been doing? In case you forgot, the two of you weren’t behaving platonically when I found out about your arrangement…”

“Trust me, it is…” you insisted, pausing in front of a cafe before opening the door and making your way inside. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with me…I’ve not been able to get him out of my mind. Whenever he calls or texts me, it takes an excruciating amount of effort on my part to act like…”

“Act like you aren’t completely smitten by him?”

You froze hearing Rina’s question, a chill running up your spine.

“I’m…I’m not smitten!”, you rebutted defensively, stumbling over your own denial. “I’m just…there is a lot for me to process about this situation, okay?”

“Uh-huh…”

“It’s one thing when we both agreed that we weren’t going to get emotionally involved and now…”

“And now you are! Clearly on some level you are attracted to him…”

You swallowed the chance to confirm what your best friend said.

“Can you believe that this was his first real date? If that’s the case then why did he ask me out? You only date somebody to get to know them and we already know everything about each other. Ugh, he’s so blasè about this stuff that l can’t make sense of it…”

“I think you’re focusing way to hard on trying to make sense of everything instead of facing how you feel…”

“Hold on…” you interrupted, tilting the phone away as you made eye contact with the barista. “Can I get an iced matcha to go, please?”

The barista nodded her head, cashing up your order as you returned to the conversation.

“You were saying?”

“I was saying…” Rina continued, and you could hear the sound of the television flickering in background. “…that I hate to defend him but give the guy some credit. He’s obviously doing all this for you.”

“Me?!”

“Yes, Ms. Hopeless Romantic, YOU. He asked you out on a date because that’s something that you want. You like to be wooed!”

“I do not like to be wooed…” you pouted, swirling your beverage in your hand as you watched the cubes of ice clink inside the plastic cup.

“Come on...Haru pulled out all the big guns when you both were together. Spontaneous getaways, those crazy elaborate floral arrangements, fancy dinner dates…and Gojo knows that. He saw it all firsthand!”

“Yeah, but I’m not…I’m not asking Satoru to do any of this for me…”

“I know you’re not and Gojo doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who cares about this stuff but…” Rina paused, taking a minute to consider her words. “I think he’s trying to show you that he’s serious…”

“Serious…” you repeated, your whole body trembling with anticipation at thought of Satoru being anything other than your friend.

“He told me he doesn’t want me rushing into anything,” you spoke softly, goosebumps raising up your arm as you recounted your kiss goodbye this morning. “He wants me to take my time…”

“I actually think that’s pretty nice of him.”

You hummed, “he just knows all the right things to say, it seems…”

“So, how did your date go?”

“It was…” you started, your voice trailing as you took a sip of your drink. You bit back a smile as you pushed the door to leave the cafe and making your way back down the busy street.

“It was perfect.”

Rina switched off her television to give you her undivided attention, the distracting noise surrounding her suddenly shifting to silence.

“Start from the beginning, and don’t leave out any of the details.”

***

You wanted to kill Satoru for being vague about tonight’s dress code. He gave you absolutely no indication on where he was planning on taking you, but asked that you dress “nice” for the evening. 

You gave yourself a good once over before exiting your apartment. After sifting through multiple outfit styles, you decided to wear a pair of denim jeans with a strappy top tucked in and slipped on a jacket  just in case it was cold. You opted for comfort by wearing a pair of sneakers then accessorized with a small leather bag and some jewelry. You had fun playing with your make up and styling your hair, but hoped that this was enough for whatever surprises Satoru had in store for you. 

When you greeted him at the entrance of your apartment, you were taken aback by your friend leaning against the frame of the door dressed in a white shirt and sleek black slacks. You parted your lips, unintentionally glancing down to his shiny loafers before shifting your focus back to your own outfit. 

“Uh, I’ll go change...” you blurted without even saying a proper hello, before turning on your heel to avoid showing your embarrassment. 

Satoru looped his arm around waist, tugging you into him as he spun you back around. 

“And why would you that?” he teased with a smile, lowering his shades down the bridge of his nose while stroking the small of your back. “You look really nice! I’ve never seen you in this top, did somebody go shopping?” 

The man was incredibly observant but you weren’t going to admit that you did in fact treat yourself to some new clothes because you wanted to wear something special tonight.

“Oh, this ol’ thing? I had it stuffed in the back of my closet...” you lied, “but I should really change into something more appropriate...” 

“I didn’t get the chance to go home before seeing you. This is a spare shirt I had around in my office. I changed into this after I finished up with my students before heading over here...” he reassured with a grin. “Trust me, you’re fine.” 

“I don’t know if this constitutes as “nice” though...” 

Satoru laughed under his breath, “you look good in anything you wear.” 

“You sure you’re not talking about yourself?” you replied, raising your eyebrow in his direction. 

“Well, you know, that’s a given...” 

You laughed, a sense of relief washing over you from his casual tone.

“You’re still not going to tell me what the plan for tonight is?” 

Satoru released you from his hold, stepping aside as he watched you lock up your front door. Your friend cheekily shook his head, “And spoil the surprise? Where is the fun in that?”

The sun was starting to set, greeting the early evening as you both walked side by side down the street to head over to the train station. 

“You were playing baseball with your students?” you asked as Satoru relayed the events of his morning to you.

He chuckled, “I wasn’t playing, I was the umpire...” 

“It’s all the same…”

“They deserve to live these carefree moments. Some people take their age for granted but they shouldn’t…”

“I like hearing you talk about your students it reminds me that you actually love what you do.” 

Satoru tilted his head down in your direction and brushed his arm against you.

“What makes you think I don’t care about my students?” 

“Nothing, actually,” you replied truthfully, a little spark lighting between your fingers when you felt his knuckles graze over yours before quietly diminishing as he swiftly moved his hand back into his pocket. 

You cleared your throat, “as a matter of fact, every time you talk about them your whole face lights up in a different way. It’s kind of cute...” 

When you looked up at your friend, you saw him flash you an adorable pose just to confirm your compliment. You responded with a casual eye roll but even you couldn’t hide back your smile. 

“I’m a nice guy, you know? Of course I care about them! We are molding the next generation of sorcerers and we need to foster them to be stronger and more intelligent...otherwise...” he explained, his words trailing off as his mind began to wander. 

You nudged him politely, hoping he would at least continue his statement. 

“Otherwise?” 

“Otherwise they’ll be stuck in the same shitty system that doesn’t care about them.” 

You nodded your head, learning not to push Gojo into giving you the full loaf whenever he spares a few crumbs about his life. However, you could gauge from his statement that things didn’t seem so easy for those who possess such unique powers. 

“Satoru, why can’t I see curses?” 

Your friend brought his thumb and index finger to his chin, pondering your question to try and formulate a palatable answer. 

“Cursed energy,” he began to say, “is born from negative human emotions, like anger or grief. All of us possess some level of cursed energy because we all experience these very emotions. However, it’s rare to possess a higher level of this energy but some people do which is why they are able to see curses. That’s usually all it takes to be considered a sorcerer...” 

“Interesting...” 

“However, non-sorcerers can still be cursed, and under extreme circumstances when their lives are threatened, they can even see them...” 

“That’s...terrifying to think about…” you replied, “…but you said that humans can still be cursed. Doesn’t that mean we should be able to see them even then?” 

“Not necessarily, it manifests as different symptoms. They can alter your dreams or take a hold of your body and burden you like dead weight - you wouldn’t really have an explanation as to what is going on in those cases...a possession, almost…kind of like the ones that you see in scary movies, but not as obvious…” 

“That doesn’t sound pleasant at all. Have…have you ever seen any curses around me?” 

Satoru shook his head seriously, “do you think I would let anything have the chance of getting close to you?” 

He reached his fingers to pinch your cheek, easing the subject to distract you from the grim truth about his world. 

“You’re going to ruin my make up...” you grumbled, falling for his little maneuver as you tried release yourself from his hold. 

“There are so many other ways I would go about ruining your make up which is a lot more fun...” he replied with a sinful smirk.

The two of you arrived at the station and you still had no idea what to expect from tonight’s date. 

Satoru, surprisingly, maintained some form of distance with you. He wasn’t his usual touchy self, which you thought was a little interesting considering the conditions around tonight’s particular outing. His unconcerned demeanor made it feel less like a date and more like another hang out. 

“Well, here we are!” he announced, when you finally reached your destination.

Tokyo Dome City. 

Parting your lips in surprise, you were caught off guard that Satoru brought you to one of the busiest tourist spots in the city. You were even more surprised by where you were standing inside one of the buildings. You knitted your brows in confusion before glancing over towards your friend. 

“Satoru, this is the entrance to the bowling center…” 

“Yep!” 

“You decided to take me bowling on our first date?”

“Yes, I did!” your friend replied, before placing his hand directly on your back and navigating you right inside.

***

“Wait a minute,” Rina interrupted. “You hate bowling...” 

“Yep.” 

“I thought he was going to wine and dine you at some fancy Michelin restaurant...” 

“Believe it or not, I was expecting something completely over the top myself...” 

“Right? An all out ridiculous experience that only a person with his kind of money can buy...” 

“Like, put me in a helicopter and take me to another city kind of first date-” you egged on, dramatizing Rina’s words just for fun. 

“Exactly! I can’t believe he took you bowling,” she laughed under her breath, “You are a complete disaster when it comes to throwing balls at pins...” 

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I’m sure he had a good reason for it...” 

“He said these exact words,” you explained, “ ‘I'm Satoru Gojo and I always guarantee a fun time’ ”

*** 

Two floors made up the facility of the bowling alley. One section was more casual, housing a few arcade games and a large kiosk where a man was selling massive plushies and trinkets. The second floor was tailored specifically for the partying crowd, where it had a full fledged lounge and bar for anyone who wanted to partake in drinking while playing their rounds. 

You both opted for the casual ambience, trading in your shoes for some bowling sneakers before heading over to your designated lane. 

You looked up at the screen to find that Satoru had funnily registered your name as “Loser” while he smugly chose the title of “Winner”. 

“What a way to make a girl feel special…” you mocked, flashing him a disinterested expression before picking which ball you would like to roll. 

“I’m just calling it like I see it,” he replied with a shrug. “You’re up!” 

You slid your two middle fingers and thumb into the holes. You approached the end of the lane, taking a second to breathe deep and using all the concentration you had to swing your arm back and release the ball from your grasp. The neon sphere slid speedily across the lane for about one second before shifting straight towards the gutter, resulting in the scoreboard to light up with a massive zero. 

“Is it possible that your skills have somehow gotten worse since we did this last?” Gojo teased, his expressive eyes hidden behind the safety of his sunglasses. 

“If you keep making fun of me I’ll aim the ball at you next time...” 

“If what I just saw gives me any indication on the likelihood of you making your shot then I don’t think I’m too worried...” 

“You little shi-” 

You paused feeling Gojo stand close behind you, bringing his mouth down to your ear before whispering smoothly, “watch the master at work, will you, dear?”

You folded your arms across your chest, pursing your lips as your friend effortlessly bowled a perfect strike. A burst of graphic confetti covered the scores, a badly animated celebratory cartoon coming through with the word “STRIKE” radiating obnoxiously on the screen.

“See, easy peasy...” 

“Life is easy peasy when it comes to you. We aren’t all blessed with the gift of being good at everything…” you grumbled, “Did you bring me here just to watch me fail miserably?” 

“No, I brought you here because I want you to have a good time.” 

“Oh, yes, doing the one thing I am absolutely horrible at.” 

“Maybe it’s how you’re approaching it…” your friend dissected. “Use a little more force when you roll the ball...” 

When your turn came next, you picked up a highlighter pink ball, one which was a little bit heavier then the previous one you used. You approached your lane, thankful that your jeans were comfortable enough to maneuver in and proceeded to throw with a little more conviction. 

The ball slipped out of your hand, bouncing loudly across the lane before rolling straight into the gutter. You winced from the sound, covering your face with your hands then splitting your fingers enough just to see a zero flash across the score board again.

Two arms wrapped around you from behind, Satoru’s chest vibrating lightly against your back from how hard he was laughing. You turned yourself around to bury your face in chest, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt as you groaned. 

“That was embarrassing.” 

“No, that was hilarious!” 

Your stomach twisted in a knot but when you looked up to meet the eyes of your friend, you found yourself releasing the tension from how gentle his gaze was.

“I don’t think there’s any way to improve from here...” you sighed, uncurling your fingers from his shirt as you took a step back. 

“Maybe try a different technique...” Satoru advised, “think outside the box....” 

“Outside the box, how?” 

“I don’t know, get creative...” he replied, watching as you reached for the ball that appeared through the conveyer belt. 

You made your way back to the lane, fiddling with the pink sphere in your hand as you caressed the smooth surface. You thought about your options before delicately placing the ball on the floor in front of you. 

Satoru furrowed his brows, observing you drop your hands down to gently push the ball across the surface of the floor.

You stared at the way it whirled slowly down the lane, veering slightly to the right and making you narrow you eyes as you anticipated it to slide into the gutter. The ball was moving closer and closer with each second, hovering just between the lines until you heard a clink. Your eyes widened with surprise as you watched the last pin in the corner gently fall down. 

“Oh my god!” you squealed, jumping up and down excitedly before turning towards Satoru who was looking at you with sheer delight. “Did you see that?!” 

He nodded his head, grinning from ear to ear as he slowly clapped his hands. 

“People will remember this day, a truly historic moment! I think I might actually cry...” he playfully acted, pretending to wipe the tears from his eyes as you almost skipped towards his direction. 

“That NEVER happens!” you shrieked, lowering your voice only when you noticed the couple in the next lane over giving you both a weird stare. 

“Maybe you were always meant to approach this game a little bit differently,” Satoru mused, lowering his glasses as he gave you knowing look but the expression on your face made his heart swell, and he knew for a fact that he made the right decision bringing you here tonight. 

***

You were laughing.

Genuinely laughing.

Rina couldn’t remember the last time she heard an authentic reaction from you. Even during moments when you were at your happiest, there was always a cloud that hovered above you, shading your usual light. She blamed Haru for the depressive episodes you’ve been suffering with. She thought about what Gojo confessed after revealing the truth to her, no longer questioning his intentions when she learned that your friend held you in a higher regard above everything and everyone else.

Even with everything surrounding your unusual date, Gojo managed to make it an entirely a positive experience for your sake. He had no hidden tricks in romancing you but you were still swooning and sighing with every anecdote you shared. 

He made the evening effortless by focusing on you alone.

You relayed the events in great detail, explaining how you played not one but three rounds of bowling with him. You joked how the both of you looked like utter fools in the alley creating your own moves until the manager had to politely come over and ask you to stop after Satoru pulled, what you dubbed as, “The Spinning Ballerina Shot”.

In the end, Rina was surprised by your enthusiasm and even applauded you for being able to score some decent points. You weren’t even bothered that Gojo kicked your butt by obtaining near perfect scores. Nor did you care that he deliberately failed to shoot a strike each time just to even the playing field.

After you both had your fill of knocking down pins, you grabbed dinner at one of the restaurants in the area and indulged in some delicious burgers. However, Rina noted the way you drifted over details of the conversation you shared with the sorcerer, keeping those private for yourself. 

She did not want to admit that Gojo was a genius for planning out your evening like this. He took all your expectations and squashed it with his foot proving, in his own way, that no matter what the circumstances were he was completely capable of making you smile. All your nerves and anxieties dissipated around him and Rina knew that he was purposefully doing that to remind you that you can let your guard down, which is why she was concerned that you were still left in the dark. 

“I’m going to tell her everything myself,” Gojo’s words echoed in her mind, “When I find the right opportunity, I’ll tell her the truth. All I ask is you give me that chance.”

***

You and Satoru stepped into the orange carriage of the Big O Ferris Wheel - one of the more popular attractions at Tokyo Dome City. The centerless wheel was lit up by white lights that glowed against the night sky, its majestic presence overseeing the entire scope of the urban scene around you.  

“I prefer being somewhere crowded when I am with you. There’s less of a chance that somebody could point us out when you’re a part of the herd,” he explained, emphasizing how he was always taking precautions when you both are together.

When the operator shut the door, you suddenly became aware of how small the space inside the carriage actually is. Satoru’s legs took up most of the room, leaving you to slot your own between his like a puzzle piece. You both were seated on opposite sides, knees bumping from the close proximity as the sorcerer leaned forward to rest his arms casually over his thighs.

He spread his fingers across your own leg, stroking you softly with his thumb as he studied your distracted expression. You were staring out the window, watching as the wheel began to turn and pull you both away from entrance. 

You took in the design of the beams and bars supporting the massive structure, the crowd at the entrance line dissipating until you both were surrounded by sky and city lights. You sighed comfortably in the silence, subconsciously moving in to rest one of your elbows on Satoru’s knee as the carriage lifted higher. You could now see the view of the Tokyo Dome Stadium, including the other fun rides placed across the amusement park. Cars were whizzing by the grid of the streets and buildings were glowing from the lights lit within, reminding you of the vibrant lives that existed everywhere you looked around.

“She’s quite beautiful tonight, don’t you think?” you asked.

Satoru smiled to himself, seeing how oblivious you were to the fact that while you were absorbing the sights around you and he was just admiring you.

“Breathtakingly so…”

You returned to meet his stare, your body pulsing upon realizing that he was directing those words to you and not the city scene.

“Smooth move, mister…” you replied, hoping to play off your reaction in a cool manner but the way he smirked proved that he could see right through the facade.

The hand on your leg shifted to where your elbow was resting, grazing up your forearm until Satoru’s slender fingers were interlaced in your own.

“I’m being serious,” he reiterated sincerely, “I haven’t been able to catch mine since we’ve met.”

Those words hooked into your lungs, making it impossible for you to inhale. Everything around you blurred until the only thing you could clearly see was the handsome man before you, whose hand gently squeezed your own while your bodies inched even closer together.

You swallowed hard, trying your best to ignore the way the beat of your heart rang in your own ears. You gently touched your forehead to his, softening your gaze as you parted your lips with a reply but realized that he left you speechless. The tips of your nose bumped, your lips brushing over his own as you reached your free hand to cup his sharp jaw.

“You haven’t kissed me today…” you whispered.

“Hmm, no I have not…”

You responded with a tiny peck, “Can I ask why?”

He captured your lips for another before speaking, “Your body tells me one thing, but I can’t read your mind. I have no idea what you’re thinking, especially now…”

You hummed into another kiss.

“I’m thinking,” you murmured into his lips, “that I am having a wonderful time with you…”

“Yeah?”

You nodded your head, “I’m thinking about how incredibly troublesome you’re going to be for me…”

He smiled against your mouth, “in a good way?”

Another kiss silenced you both, only this time it lingered.

“The best way possible…” you confirmed. “It’s just…”

“Yes?”

“I’m eventually going to have to ask the hard questions and I’m…a little scared to hear the answers. We’re both so different with our expectations…”

Satoru released you from his hold, moving to cup your face in his hands as he pulled you away.

“There is something I want to give you.”

You blinked a few times, caught off guard by his interjection.

He lifted his hips from his seat, crouching awkwardly as he positioned himself right next to you. One of his arms draped over your shoulder, while his other hand reached inside the pocket of his pants.

“On the night of your 24th birthday, I overheard Haru talking to Rina about how he forgot to buy you a gift. Some bullshit excuse about how he was too busy or something…” he proceeded to share, “… you want to know what thought crossed my mind in that moment?”

“W-What?”

“That this selfish bastard was the center of your world but you were only ever a blimp on his radar. He thrived off your attention but couldn’t give you an ounce in return. I never liked that…”

You wanted to protest out of defense but you were interrupted when you noticed him pull out something from his pocket.

“Those earrings that you loved to wear, the ones that you don’t put on anymore because of him…” he exhaled, biting his bottom lip nervously before continuing, “I bought you those earrings after you told me of their sentiment. You have no idea how hard it was to find that exact pair. Anyway, I gave it to him because I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you hurt on your birthday. Told him to pretend that it came from his hand, that I wouldn’t say anything because I thought…well, I didn’t expect you both to break up…”

“Satoru…” you gasped, your eyes flickering to the box in his hands that he opened to reveal a necklace inside.

“I loved seeing you wear them, even if you didn’t know they were from me but your smile was worth it…” he admitted, “turn around.”

Satoru removed the necklace from the box, and you recognized that it matched with the earrings he was talking about. You turned your back towards him, allowing him to delicately clasp the necklace around you, the chain hanging like a loose choker with the pendant dangling just above the tips of you collar bones.

You were mindful of  your chest rising and falling as the warmth raised up the nape of your neck where you felt Satoru kiss you. Your stomach turned at the memories of you wearing those very earrings in question around your friend, gushing over a man who didn’t even gift them to you in the first place. You felt his arms wrap around your waist before bringing your own to cross over the comfort of his embrace. 

“Whenever you’re ready to ask your questions, I’ll be here with the answers...” he reassured, “You don’t have to remind me how different we are. I just...I just need to know where you stand with him, and...with me...” 

Do you still love Haru? 

For the first time in three years, the thought made your stomach turn. 

You twirled in your seat, your arms circling around Satoru’s neck as you pulled him into your lips. Neglecting any thoughts from crossing your mind and dwelling on complications that could potentially damper the night. Instead you focused on your impulse which is to kiss him - kiss him for everything he meant to you: for his friendship, for his care, for his support, for his protection... 

Your heart was calling out to somebody else and you were allowing the roots of your desire to string through each valve. You poured your emotions while tasting him, bringing one hand to catch the strands of his hair while the other gripped the collar of his shirt and wrinkling the crisp fabric. You felt him groan as held you from behind, his other hand trailing up your neck to hold you in place as he returned the kiss. 

“Let’s leave,” you whispered in between breaths, “I want...I want to show you just how much I appreciate everything you did. I think...it’s long overdue...” 

After the ride, the two of you stepped off the ferris wheel hand in hand in a complete daze. The only thought crossing your mind was how desperately you wanted to be alone with him. You could feel the crackling energy sparking between you both, conscious that you were stepping on the brink of a blossoming romance that had the potential of spiraling you down a black hole with nowhere to escape. 

***

“Why didn’t you tell me about the earrings?” you questioned, prompting Rina to stiffen in place as she pondered her reply. “I thought we don’t keep secrets from each other...” 

“I didn’t foresee Haru breaking your heart either,” she replied, “Besides, it wasn’t my secret to tell. I wasn’t about to complicate your friendship with Gojo over nothing…”

You sloshed the leftover matcha in your cup, noticing that the ice has almost fully melted. 

“I guess you’re right,” you agreed, “I’m glad he told me himself.” 

“Did...did he say anything else?” Rina pushed. 

“No, we wound up back at my place...” 

***

You were naked in bed, stripped of all your clothes except for the necklace you had on. Satoru’s shirt hand been unbuttoned, allowing you to feel the chiseled muscle of his torso as you pushed against his clothed length with your needy cunt. The two of you were completely flustered, charged with excitement as your hands and bodies writhed together, yearning for the other person as if your sanity depended on it. Just as his hand moved to reach between your legs, a vibration caught you off guard. 

“Please tell me that’s your phone and not some secret hidden power that your penis can do...” you exhaled, tugging away from his swollen lips as you watched him furrow his brows in irritation. 

He pulled out the device, answering it while still proceeding to drag his finger between your pussy and making you shiver on top of him. 

“This better be important,” he grunted in to the phone, noticing the glistening strands of your arousal catch between his digits.

He clicked his teeth, allowing his face to fall in disappointment. “Fuck, fine. There’s no need to be so dramatic, I’m on my way...”  

“Nooo...” you pouted as he ended the call, holding his face in your hands as you kissed him on the corner of his mouth. “Not tonight, don’t go...” 

Satoru pushed himself upright, holding you in a straddle position as he stroked your thighs. Your pleading eyes could break his will, but unfortunately he didn’t exactly have the choice to negate his responsibilities. 

“I’ll try to make it back later...” he sighed, placing the sweetest kisses on your neck. 

You bit back a smile, your arms hugging him as he held you close. 

“I’ll wait for you and if I fall asleep...” you teased, your hands moving to button his shirt as you kissed his temple. “...then I’ll let you think of some creative ways to wake me up...” 

Satoru laughed under his breath, “my, my...you really want to give me that responsibility?” 

“I trust you, without question...” 

Satoru hummed as he kissed you again, reaching for your hands as you fastened the last button. He got himself together, swiping the spare key to your apartment with the promise that he had every intention on finishing the night with you. 

In between as you waited, you thought you would gift your date a little surprise in return. 

You dug out the earrings you had hidden in your drawers. You wore the entire set, admiring the delicate details in the mirror before reaching for your phone as you slipped back in between the sheets. You lifted the phone above you, adjusting the camera before snapping a shot of your bare chest, your pinky finger nestled between your teeth and hiding the seductive look in your eyes by tilting your face away to reveal the earring you were wearing. 

Haru had taken enough of your happy memories. 

You were reclaiming this one for yourself. 

You sent the picture to Gojo before leaving the message: 

You: it looks perfect x 

The night you woke up Satoru’s mouth slurping against your very wet cunt, his fingers pumping back and forth as he roused you from your deep slumber. 

“There you are, angel. My girl’s a heavy sleeper - you came twice before I managed to get your attention...” he cooed, moaning as he returned to pleasure your clit.

One arm flew overhead to grip the comfort of the pillow, the other threading through he roots of his hair as your hips arched and rolled against him. 

“You...ahhh...” you moaned, pinching your lids together as you shivered from the sensation of his tongue on you. “You c-came back...” 

“Mmmm...” he hummed, pulling his fingers out as he began to trail his lips up your lower abdomen. “I told you I would and after that photo you sent…”

He nearly growled upon saying those words, “let’s just say I couldn’t bring myself to leave you alone.”

You woke up the next morning tangled in each other after a long night of making love. Satoru cradled you in his arms, and you learned that your friend was quite clingy when he fell asleep. He was peaceful and quiet, completely contrasting everything about his awakened state. However, there were moments as you slept when you could feel him tighten his grip around you with enough strength to wake you up. At first you were surprised by the sudden response, noticing the strain on his face until he finally relaxed when giving himself the affirmation that you were still safely next to him. 

When will you let me in?, you thought to yourself before placing a chaste kiss on his nose. 

***

“Maybe I am smitten, it’s kind of hard not to be...” you concluded, “I can see why people fall head over heels for him. I just...I can’t bring myself to put my heart on the line when he still keeps me at an arm’s length. I don’t think it’s worth it if we can’t see each other as equals...”  

Rina nodded her head, “Yes. I agree.” 

“You...you do? You don’t have any comments or comebacks about how I’m stupid getting involved with yet another fuck boy?” 

Your friend chuckled, “Well, I definitely think he holds the fuck boy card...just not when he’s with you. You should hear yourself when you talk about him and honestly...I think the two of you might actually be good together.” 

You froze in the middle of the road. 

“You...You do?” 

“Yes, I do but...” 

“Of course, there’s a but...” you grumbled. 

“Wait a second, hear me out before you get defensive,” your best friend lectured. “But...this isn’t going to work unless the two of you are completely honest with each other. Before you decide to fall for him, please take that into consideration...”

“I will-” 

“The last thing I need is for you to get hurt again...” 

You turned to walk in the opposite direction, distracted by the conversation at hand that you didn’t recognize the body that collided into you. 

Everything happened in slow motion, with the man’s belly pushing into the plastic cup and you tripping over yourself as you tipped it straight onto the white material of his shirt. The cold tea pooled around his abdomen, covering his top in a bright green as you squealed loudly into the phone. 

“Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry!” You blurted, “Rina, I need to call you back...” 

“Wait, what just happened?” 

“I’ll call you back!” you panicked, before hanging up the phone and staring guilty at the stain. 

“I’m so, so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention! Your shirt, oh god...uhm...I’m sure there must be a shop somewhere close by, I can definitely buy a replacement...I should have kept an eye on where I was walking, I didn’t even hear your footsteps behind me, I'm sorr-” 

“If I had a coin for every time you spilled something on my shirt, I would be a rich man...” 

That voice. 

You recognized that voice. 

Honeyed like liquid gold. the words channeled straight through your ear, fuzzing your mind as your body went completely still. You couldn’t even feel the gentle wind brush across your skin, going numb as you flickered your attention to meet the person’s gaze, hoping that you would be met with a different face. 

Sparks of amber radiated from those hazel eyes, reflecting off the sun and highlighting the smile that spread across the man’s lips. 

Those very lips that confessed their love to you time and time gain. 

“Haru...” you announced in shock. 

“(y/n),” he calmly replied, your grasp easing around the the plastic cup as you lost yourself in his aura, only snapping back to reality when you heard it roll on the concrete ground under you. “...it’s nice to see you.” 

***

TAGS: @pensivespecter @ekaterinatepes @jelly-jellx @lollipopd@rosenkow @shuxjodie @mikasackrmann 

***

CHAPTER 20: HARU

[starglow-xx]

(About the brother!atsushi) aRE YOU READING MY MIND MISS?! Because that has been on my mind for MONTHS. TYSM For writing it was amazing!! If you don't mind, may I request (if requests are open) atsushi, still an older brother, but with a sister that's 10-13 yrs old? It's totally fine if you don't wanna do it. Keep up the good stories, ily mwuah!

*sobs* you’re so kind thank youu 🤧🤧

i wrote this a bit differently i hope that’s okay anon! at first i planned for this to be mainly abt atsushi and the reader, but i decided to add in relationship hcs with the agency bc i ran out of ideas

if you guys liked this don’t worry! im planning a special part two for this one so be the look out for it hehe

atsushi with a tween! sister

ft. the armed detective agency

like in my baby sister hcs, you’re still the most important thing to him period

the two of you got picked up by dazai and kunikida when he was 18 (obviously) and when you were 12

for a 12 year old, you were a bit small bc of malnourishment (which makes atsushi feel so bad) so both dazai and kunikida thought you were a bit younger than you actually were

they assumed you were about 9-10ish

you and atsushi both share a favorite food !! chazuke :)

so when kunikida treated the two of you, he made sure you got more bowls bc like i mentioned above, he feels really bad that you were malnourished and under weight

(don’t bring this up but kunikida felt bad too hehe)

when dazai went with your brother to the warehouse, you were with kunikida

imagine the surprise of the other ada members when kunikida came in with a little girl dressed in rags that popped out from behind him

kenji was the one who vocalized his thoughts 

“kunikida-san you have a daughter?! wow! i didn’t know that! :D”

when you found out your brother was a tiger, you were a bit concerned but you were actually kind of excited

you were even more excited when you found out the two of you were going to be taken in by the agency

anything was better than the stupid orphanage

and besides!

you got a tiger for an older brother and a bunch of other super powered agents to take care of you! who could want anything else?

at your age, you’re very impressionable and can be influenced easily so atsushi makes sure to teach you more in depth of good morals and the importance of kindness

his heart swells with pride and relief when he catches you being kind to others

pride bc he’s proud that even after all the two of you have gone through, you still ended up being a good kid and having a bright view of the world

and relief bc he hasn’t failed as a big brother

pfftt like he could ever fail

but please, from time to time reassure him that he’s perfect and the only big brother that you’d ever want bc he rlly needs that kind of validation

with his salary and savings, he tries to buy nice things for you

what a sweetheart 🥺

he saw you eyeing that one dress at a store window? fast forward abt a week and half and it’s inside a pretty gift bag for you

you wanted to try that dessert from the nice bakery? that’s dessert after dinner at one point

but other than buying you things, he sets money aside for you

like all the time

(y/n), here have this, you might need it”

“but nii-san you just gave me—”

“take it”

#1 spoiler

also your #1 confidant and source of physical affection

you tell him anything and everything (except crushies and those kinds of things)

atsushi loves it when you talk abt your day and he can see the big smile on your face and the sparkle in your eyes

it gives him the strength to keep going 😖😖

the two of you aren’t as touch starved as you’d probably think, but that’s only bc the two of you had each other

in your opinion, no one can match the hugs of your big brother

and it got even better bc YAYY he has tiger arms now ٩(◕‿◕)۶

if you ask, he’d carry you around too hehe

you also get nightmares quite often so he’ll always be there ready to calm you down, talk if you need to, and rock you back to sleep

god i love him 🤧🤧

atsushi will do everything in his power to protect you and make sure you get to grow up happy, supported, and loved

port mafia attack? oop he’s already taking you to the nearest escape route

someone is starting to harass you? they just got suckered punched into the next week

you want to go out to have some fun? he’ll go ask the president for a day off

you’re not feeling well? he’ll take another day off and take care of you

whatever you want to do, he’ll do it with you! (as long as it’s within reason)

will always be your #1 supporter! and he’s the president of your fan club hehe

he loves you so so much and will do anything for you; your life and happiness will always be more important to him

you are his reason to keep going

agency head canons !!

atsushi is your big brother, but kunikida is most definitely some sort of father figure

everyone can see it

except kunikida of course

kunikida scolds you lightly if he thinks your manners need work or if you make a mess in the agency

you listen to him of course and in turn as some sort of a reward, he’ll give you pieces of stationary

he always gives you the nice, good quality kind and you’re over the moon

atsushi adores it when you come running to him showing your new notebook or fountain pen and blabbering what you’re going to do with it

sometimes it isn’t even as a reward for being a good child; he’ll just give it to you and he’ll say smth like “i noticed you’ve used up your last notebook quite quickly, so here’s another one” or “did you run out of ink? here have this then”

he usually has a soft spot for children in general, but he most definitely has a soft spot (or a thousand) for you

yosano is kind of like a motherly figure to you

she gives you the guidance a mother should and goes on shopping trips with you!

atsushi always gets dragged along by you, but he thinks it’s worth it seeing you look so happy

yosano being a doctor also tries to teach the things you should know, or things that would be helpful to you

she’ll teach you the basics of cooking, sewing, how to treat a cold/fever, etc

also gives you excellent advice 1000% of the time

“remember (y/n)-chan if someone hurts you come tell me and then i’ll chop them into—”

“yOSANO-SENSEI DONT TELL HER THAT—”

fukuzawa is like a father to most in the agency but you see him more as a grandfather figure

bi weekly tea and gossip sessions hehe

along with cat talk!

most of the time though, it’s just you talking and him listening to you, but the two of you enjoy it nonetheless

“and then kunikida-san ended up crashing into a pole and dazai-san started to laugh at him and i did too because it was really funny but we ended up getting scolded—”

“hmm i see...”

he’ll let you stay in his office as he fills out paperwork; you’re usually doodling or drawing in your notebooks

sometimes he’ll meditate and you’ll join him, but 4/7 times you’d fall asleep

you always wake up with a blanket over you

dazai is like a cool but a highly concerning and kind of high maintenance uncle

frequently takes you out with him when he ditches work

walks in the park, eating at uzumaki so he has the excuse of treating you so he doesn’t have to pay his tab avoiding kunikida and sometimes chuuya and akutagawa, all that fun stuff

also tries to not talk abt suicide in front of you especially if it’s just the two of you alone

he knows that you mean the world to his pupil and that said pupil would probably hate him for putting suicide inside your brain

he teaches you random but useful things like how to pick a lock, how to steal kunikida’s notebook if you’re looking for some information, how to sweet talk your way out of things, etc.

is also the one to tell you that if you ever get a significant other to introduce them to the agency first

he always wants all of your gossip; some of them work pretty well for blackmail

“dazai-san! dazai-san! did you know that kunikida-san lost his glasses and he was looking for them for nearly an hour when he was just holding them the entire time??”

“woah really (y/n)-chan?! hey hey can you say it again into this recording device so kunikida-kun would believe me when i tell him—”

always ends up giving kunikida a heart attack when he says that you’ve been with him all day

ranpo is also like a cool but a highly concerning and kind of high maintenance uncle

will share some of his snacks, but don’t push it or you might not get anything at all

loves it when you compliment him

if you tagged along with him and your brother on a case, he will show off to impress you

“...and that’s how the crime happened”

“UWAHH RANPO-SAN YOU’RE SO COOL��

atsushi is lowkey and kunikida is highkey stressed that ranpo’s eating habits will rub off on you

“ne (y/n)-chan do you wanna try this highly caffeinated drink and this concerning amount of sugar filled snack?”

“can i really?!”

“rANPO-SAN NO—”

ranpo definitely does stuff like that on purpose 

the tanizakis are like siblings to you!

a weird set of siblings but siblings nonetheless

the two of them adore you and think you’re precious

atsushi definitely knows how to do your hair whether it’s long or short but he got even better at it when he asked the two

hehe braid trains are definitely a thing + kyouka and kenji (and maybe even dazai)

sometimes you have sibling swap days

you’re with junichiro for most of the day and atsushi is with naomi

strange i know

each of the tanizaki siblings try to make it fun bc they know that the two of you did not at all have a happy upbringing

junichiro likes spending time with you by taking you out to different places that naomi likes to frequent

like the mall, different stores and restaurants, the park, places like those

naomi does the same thing with atsushi so if you ever bump into them, you go out and eat together :)

besides atsushi, the next one in line who spoils you the most would be junichiro (and yosano & kunikida both coming in at a close third)

he honestly can’t help it; you remind him of how naomi was when she was younger

and besides

he’s always been a sucker when it came to the happiness of a little sister

“would you really buy this for me junichiro-san?!”

“of course! don’t worry about it” :)

wanna talk abt boys/girls/celebrity crushes things like that? naomi is your girl

you feel a bit embarrassed to go talking to yosano or your brother abt that and kyouka does not know a thing abt them either

“uwahh naomi-san look at all these people in this magazine! they look so good!”

“right?! but of course onii-sama is still the best—”

you get along with kenji and kyouka quite nicely being roughly the same age as them; they’re also like siblings!

just pure, wholesome vibes from the three of you

you’re over the moon when she finds out that kyouka is staying with you and your brother

atsushi is twice as happy seeing you talk your mouth off and finally having a girl around your age to talk to

“do you think demon snow can change how she looks?”

“hmm... im not sure...”

you and kenji talk abt anything and everything

he even teaches you how to take care of plants!

sometimes the two of you are kind of in the same boat bc you don’t know much abt yokohoma being stuck in the orphanage and kenji doesn’t know much abt cities in general

“wait where are we again kenji-san?”

“ah we’re close to the ports! but im not really sure how close because i don’t know what the symbols on this sign mean”

“don’t worry! neither do i!”

bonus things!

yosano was kind of too late teaching you abt you know what

“NII-SAN IM BLEEDING IN BETWEEN MY LEGS”

you’re sobbing in the agency’s bathroom and atsushi is panicking trying to get you to open the door

“Y/N?! H-HOLD ON LET ME GET YOSANO SENSEI”

ranpo overhears and cackles making everyone around him confused

suddenly atsushi bursts in the agency basically on the verge of tears rambling incoherent sentences abt the bathroom, you, and blood

it just clicked for everybody in the room

(im going to pretend that kenji has sisters back home so that atsushi is the only one who remain oblivious here hehe)

atsushi is genuinely confused and sort of concerned that no one is freaking out with him

yosano waves her hand saying smth like that she’d take care of it and junichiro pulls atsushi to the side to talk to him

fast forward like half and hour and dazai and ranpo are cackling on the looks of both of your faces

honestly not sure who’s more traumatized, you or your brother

“why does this have to happen” :(

“ne ne (y/n)-chan!~ you’re too young but at some point you’re not going to have it!”

“uwahh really dazai-san?” :D

“yeah! but first you have to have ANFK—”

next thing you know your ears are being covered by your brother and dazai is thrown across the room by kunikida

you know

the normal

you’re twelve and have never gone to school, but the agency takes care of that

it’s too dangerous to go to school so they teach you what’s necessary and whatever else they can

kunikida takes care of math (obviously)

yosano takes care of science/biology/anatomy/health (whatever you wanna call it)

ranpo even dragged poe to help you with english

atsushi even got lucy to help you out with english too!

as tanizaki and naomi used to be students, they give you their old work books and they try to teach you all the other subjects

sometimes kyouka and kenji are there learing with you too!

sorry if there’s some errors! i’ll read through it again later :)

and as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize! the reblog button is there for a reason

[demonsandco]

Okay okay we know with their demon forms it requires a lot of upkeep now what do you think they would do and what they need help with. Cause what comes to mind is a family grooming session 😊

I love this ask thank youuuu. I wasn't sure if you wanted their canon forms, but this is mostly based on my own personal headcanons for their demon forms! I hope you don’t mind that :) It would be much easier for them to handle their insane forms, but what's the fun in that?

Before I start, all demon horns need constant maintenance. Demon horns never actually stop growing, so routine sanding, usually with a custom shaped whetstone, is important to keep horns smooth and to keep them from getting too long. Without proper care, horns can easily become overgrown and asymmetrical, as well as gain a rough, dry and almost scaly texture, which is rather uncomfortable for the demon in question

All other forms of upkeep vary from demon to demon, depending on what features they have (ei. scales, feathers, fur, hair, etc.).

Lucifer

Lucifer's horns are rather easy to reach, curling forward along the sides of his head, so it's fairly simple for him to keep them maintained himself. It's something that he does often, especially because neglecting them could easily impact his image. After all, it's common to see him bring out his demon form to intimidate others, and he wants to make sure he looks well put together. Caring for his horns is not much different than shaving his face in the morning, nothing more than a quick and simple part of his routine.

The thing that actually gives Lucifer trouble is his wings and tail. General self care is something he can handle easily, but feathers naturally wear down and need to be replaced, which means molting. Molting leaves him feeling absolutely miserable. His entire back starts looking patchy and he feels itchy and irritated all over, but he can never seem to properly reach the areas giving him trouble himself. His pride tends to get in the way of asking for help, so he's often left to suffer through it until the new feathers finish growing in.

Lucifer would need to trust someone quite a bit in order to let them help, but it's always a huge relief to have that itchiness soothed by a caring hand. Most often, Mammon ends up being the one to help out. Not only is the second born the only other one who still has feathers, but he's also very skilled at reading Lucifer's moods and telling when he needs help. They never speak about it afterwards, but it's a much needed binding experience for both of them.

(The rest are under the cut)

Mammon

Being a model, Mammon takes very good care of his appearance. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he does it, his horns always give him an insane amount of trouble. They're very tightly coiled and rest at a slightly backwards angle, making it difficult for Mammon to reach the inside parts of his horns. It's not uncommon to see him sulking his way over to Asmodeus' room for help with those hard to reach areas, after spending hours trying to do it himself and failing.

Other than his horns, Mammon has it pretty easy. Like Lucifer, he has to deal with molting, but it never seems to last too long for him, much to the eldest's envy. His wings are also featherless, so molting is nowhere near as uncomfortable for him. The only big feathers he needs to worry about replacing are the ones on his tail. The rest are much smaller and less irritating to regrow.

His wings and other featherless areas do need extra care, though, in the form of moisturizing. Without protection from feathers, those areas get dry and cracked easily, especially if he goes flying. To deal with it, he's got a pretty big collection of scented moisturizing lotions and oils that he can pick from, most of which were gifts from Asmodeus, since they have similar wings.

Leviathan

Levi's demon form is rather unique compared to his brothers. Instead of having true horns, he has antlers. Rather than needing constant care, his horns grow to their full size, shed their outer layer of skin and then eventually fall off to start the process again. Levi often goes to the ocean to isolate himself when his horns are ready to fall. He usually lets them sink to the bottom, where they take the form of the devildom equivalent of coral, providing shelter for aquatic life.

On top of shedding his horns, he also sheds his skin. His sheds are entirely determined by his horns, happening once when the antlers are full grown and ready to lose their protective, velvety skin, and again later on when they're ready to fall. While his antlers' life cycle is reminiscent of a deer's, the shedding of his skin is very similar to a snake's shed. It's not hard to tell when Levi is close to shedding. The old skin begins to separate itself from his new scales, giving him a dull gray sheen over his body and his eyes begin to look dull and glazed over.

It's definitely not a pleasant feeling and he can't see very well through the skin either, so he tends to avoid his brothers. High humidity is also needed for him to shed properly, so if he can't go hide out at sea, Levi's going to lock himself in his room and soak miserably in his bathtub.

Satan

Satan's self care routine isn't too difficult, but it's definitely the most time consuming and he absolutely hates it. He's not the most patient demon, especially when it comes to tasks that he thinks are wasting his time. When it's time for him to maintain his more demonic features, Satan needs to put aside an entire day for it.

Satan's horns are easy enough for him to handle. The inside part of the sharp curve of them often gives him some trouble, but he's nothing if not stubborn, so he usually manages to sort it out on his own. Horns on their own are rather time-consuming to care for, but what really takes up all of Satan's time is the multiple other horn-like protrusions along his body, as well as his tail. He's got boney spikes in the areas that his bones are closer to the skin (elbows, spine, ribs, jaw, etc.) and, like regular horns, they're constantly growing.

Whether he likes it or not, he always ends up needing to ask someone for help, and that someone usually ends up being Asmo. Not only is the process tedious, but he also has a very hard time reaching the spines on his back properly, so a helping hand is very useful.

Asmodeus

Unsurprisingly, Asmo has a very in depth routine that he follows to a t. Every week, he sets aside an evening to take care of his horns and wings specifically, sanding down his horns to keep them smooth and shiny, and moisturizing his wings with oils and lotions to keep the skin supple and soft. Being related to scorpions, Asmo also has a carapace in his true form that resembles the exoskeleton of actual scorpions. It doesn't need much extra care, but he always makes sure to keep it bright and polished.

The downside to his carapace is that it can't actually heal unless Asmo molts and completely replaces it. He's not the biggest fan of molting, but he'll force himself to molt early if he gets scratched or hurt in any way. He can't stand the thought of any part of him looking dull or banged up.

Overall, though, Asmo definitely has his self care handled perfectly. He's also very particular about how things are done, so he's very hesitant to let anyone else do it for him. He does, however, love helping his brothers out with grooming and self care. Especially the ones that he knows are likely to neglect themselves without a proper push.

Beelzebub

Beel's self care leaves much to be desired. He's completely horrible at taking care of his demonic attributes, but he often forgets about it or runs out of time. It's not uncommon for his horns to be rough and chipped or for his insect-like carapace to look dull and roughed up, especially with how aggressive his sports matches can get. Between school, working out, fangol and his constant hunger, regular upkeep gets put on the backburner.

Luckily, Beel and his twin often partake in allogrooming! They both find it easier to take care of each other, rather than themselves. This is especially helpful when it comes to Beel's horns. They curve so tightly along the sides of his head that he can't actually fit his hands between the horns and his skin to smooth them out. Belphie, on the other hand, has much smaller hands and can easily reach around and sand them down, while Beel takes care of him in turn. They rarely talk during these moments, but it serves as good bonding time for the two of them.

Beel's carapace is something he can handle himself, mostly because it doesn't really require anything. Like Asmo's, the only way for his carapace to "heal" is for him to molt and replace it, which he puts off for as long as possible. It's thick and hardy and since he doesn't put much stock in looking perfectly put together, he doesn't worry about it all that much. Whenever he does feel the need to molt, it goes by pretty quickly and he's back to his regular schedule in no time.

Belphegor

Belphie is honestly the worst at taking care of himself. Not because he doesn't care, but because he has such a hard time gathering up enough motivation to even get up in the mornings, much less put in the effort to look nice. If no one steps in, he can go days at a time without brushing just the hair on his head. Even on the days that he does that much, chances are that he didn't bother brushing the rest of his fur, too. After all, if he just doesn't show off his demon form, then no one will notice right?

Luckily for him, Beel does notice when his twin hasn't been caring for himself. While the rest of the brothers only need to worry about their demon forms every other week or even just once a month, Belphie needs to do it daily because of his coat. Without proper daily care, his hair gets oily and matted together very easily, which only makes it harder to deal with later. Beel knows that that's a lot to handle and often steps to brush out his twin's coat, even if he doesn't need any help in return. It's much easier for Belphie to feel motivated enough to help groom Beel than it is to care for himself, so their joint grooming helps them both.

On a similar note, Belphie has quite a bit of trouble with his horns and he constantly puts off taking care of them until they begin causing him physical discomfort. In the past, there's been a few times where he's let them grow a couple extra curls before they started weighing him down so much that he had to take care of it. With his twin's help, and a strictly imposed schedule, his horns haven't gotten that bad in ages, but they still tend to be rather rough most of the time. He also needs to sand down his hooves in a similar fashion. Normally, they'd be maintained just by walking on rough surfaces, but Belphie definitely doesn't walk around enough for that.

If Beel's not around to help out, Belphie has no qualms with playing the baby brother card and whining until one of the others agrees to help him. He's always willing to groom them in return, though, so he usually gets his way pretty easily.

[mandoalorian]

Javier Peña SFW Alphabet

Because the world needs more soft!Javi.

Warnings: 16+. allusions to sex, depression mention, cigarettes mention, alcohol mention, food mention.

Masterlist

Reblogs appreciated!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

So, Javi hates PDA. It makes him cringe. Javier can be pretty affectionate but only when you two are alone and spending private one-on-one time with each other. However, if he sees another pair of eyes on you, he can get protective pretty quick. He’ll guide you around with his hand placed on the small of your back, and he’s not afraid to slap your ass if it means he gets to assert his dominance.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

I mean, just look at Javier & Steve. Javi is an amazing best friend. He’s hilarious, and always jokes around, although most of the time, his humour can be quite dark and self deprecating. None the less, he’s super funny and never fails to make you laugh. He’s perfect to have around when you need to be cheered up. He’s also super supportive and will constantly look out for you. If you’ve fucked up and made a mistake, Javi will take the blame and have your back. You don’t even have to ask him. He really steps up for you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

At first? No. Javi struggles to show his feelings, and he’s not the biggest hopeless romantic, as you might’ve guessed. He’s never really given out cuddles (or hugs for that matter), but if you’ve been together for a couple of months and you’re going steady, he doesn’t have an issue with getting into it. He learns to really like cuddles. Especially after sex.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He has no interest in getting married. Never has, never will. He doesn’t see the point in a piece of paper from city hall to confirm that you two love each other. As long as he can feel it, in his heart, that’ll be good enough for him. But if you absolutely want to get married, he’ll allow it. It won’t be a big ceremony though. Maybe just a few guests and a store bought cake. He doesn’t like the fuss. He doesn’t cook, ever. He had a pretty bad diet that consists of snacking on chips at the bar or ordering take-out. He has a cleaner too.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Honestly? Javier can be pretty brutal. If you’ve hooked up just a few times and he’s lost interest, he’ll probably just not call you back. If you’ve been together a while, he’s gonna be really torn up about breaking up with you. He’ll be sulking and moody for a few days and you’ll know that somethings up. Then he’ll go distance and ghost you, hiding out in a few motel bars leaving you worried about where he is. When you find him, there’s a big fight and he snaps and tells you he wants to end it all. When he misses you, he’ll pick up a girl from the brothel who looks similar enough to you, and he’ll think of you while he fucks her. He feels gross about it, but it’s just what he does.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Oh Lord, Javier has the biggest commitment issues. He’s terrified, as we seen with Lorraine. It’s gonna take a lot for him to settle down. He tries to reassure you that it’s not your fault and it’s a problem he needs to work out himself. It might take Javi a few years of steadily dating before his commitment issues become resolved, but as long as you’re willing to wait for him, he’ll be happy.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s definitely rough at first — in every way you can imagine. But you teach him how to be more gentle and considerate, both with yourself and the people around him. He can be pretty blunt which can cause a lot of hurt sometimes. When he sees that you’re upset though, he will show a surprising softer side. He’ll wrap his arm around you and smooth out your hair, and he’ll lull you to sleep by whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

The first time you hug Javi, he stiffens up completely. He has no idea how to react. The last time he received a hug must’ve been from his mom when he was still just a young boy. He often gives you hugs though, especially when you’re seeking comfort. Javier has big strong arms and he holds you so right. He runs at your flesh in soothing motions and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You can always smell the honeyed scent of his cologne, and cigarettes, when he hugs you. But you wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

You’re probably going to say it first... and that’s okay! Javier does love you, he knows that for sure. It’s just... it can be hard for him to actually admit it and come to terms with it (with his commitment issues and all). You assure him it’s okay and he can take his time. But he ends up not taking long at all. Once you tell him you love him, his whole world feels complete and it’s suddenly pretty easy for him to tell you that he loves you back.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

To be honest, Javi is pretty confident in a relationship. No woman has ever left him before. So, he doesn’t get too jealous. Besides, other men know better than to get too close to you because Javier isn’t afraid to throw a punch or two. He is, by nature, extremely protective, though.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

So passionate. A clash of tongues and teeth. He often moans into your mouth and the vibrations from that alone are enough to send shivers down your spine. When he kisses you, he struggles to keep his hands to himself. With Javier, kisses often lead to making out which often leads to sex. He loves to kiss you anywhere. Along your jaw, down your neck and the valley of your breasts. He’s a biter too (this is canon). He loves to nibble at your skin and give you little lovebites.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Surprisingly decent. Kids aren’t his favourite thing in the world, and he does his best to avoid them, but on an occasion where he finds himself with a child, he can handle them pretty well. Olivia Murphy loves her uncle Javi.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Weekdays are the worst because Javi has to head to work pretty early. Weekends though? You and Javier will sleep in until around midday, just lounging in each other’s arms and basking in the morning sunlight as it seeps through your curtains. It’s soft and sweet and almost always results in morning sex. You and Javi find yourself indulging in tired conversations and soft touches as you both fall in and out of sleep.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Javier will be drinking beer or whiskey and the two of you will mostly likely be on his sofa, watching a movie together. Fancy dinners aren’t his style but he likes to treat you to them now and again on date night. And trust me when I say you two will be going at each other until the early hours of the morning.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s an enigma to everyone he meets, and this doesn’t exclude you. It can be exhausting at first— how much he keeps to himself. He doesn’t talk about his childhood, or what he did at work today. He talks about very little. But once you express to him that you wish he’d be more open and vulnerable with you, he tries. He really does try. In the end, he’s a lot more confident and can talk to you about practically anything.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has 0 patience, as we see on stakeouts. He gets angry and frustrated super fast. He’s not too loud and he’s rarely a shouter, but when he’s pissed, you’re sure to know about it.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

It’s going to take him about three years for him to remember your birthday. But he remembers the exact shirt you were wearing the night you and him met. He forgets your mom’s name, but he remembers the brand name of the perfume that’s displayed on your dresser. Point is, he remembers very menial and silly things about you. Sometimes, he’ll bring up a random fact about you that he’s remembered and it’ll truly surprise you. Even though he struggled to remember the important things, you find is so endearing how he remembers the smaller and finer things.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you and Javi slept together, something just hit him like a ton of bricks. He’s slept with plenty of women, that much is clear, but with you, it was different. Right from the start, something felt different, and he couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was. Truth be told, it terrified him... this unknown feeling. But it excited him too, and only spurred him on more. It takes him a while to realise, but that feeling was love. That was the night he fell in love with you. And so for that reason, yours and Javi’s first time is his favourite memory.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very protective. There’s no reason to elaborate. Due to the nature of his job and the shit he sees on a day to day basis, he makes you his number one priority. If anything ever happened to you, he couldn’t ever forgive himself. So he’s constantly at your neck and call. Anything you need, he will provide.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Javier is pretty low maintenance. Like I said, he will occasionally take you out for a meal at a fancy restaurant, but this is usually for anniversary dates. He’s taken a liking to going to the movies with you, and he also loves to go dancing with you in nightclubs. Javi’s job is well paid and he has a surprisingly good eye for jewellery. He always picks you out the most beautiful diamonds. You worry about him spending too much on you, though.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Smoking. You don’t like the smell of it. And when he has one too many beers. He tries to cut down though, for you.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Yeah, he looks after himself. He keeps himself well groomed. He even has a little toothbrush he uses to comb his moustache.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He really, really would. Say you and Javi have had a big fight and you are both spending some time away from each other... he’ll be really struggling. You’re always there to ground him and make him feel safe. He never realised how much needs you until you’re not with him anymore. He’d probably cry himself to sleep, but he’d never tell anyone.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He has a vision. It’s a pretty distant vision, well into the future. But once he retires from the DEA, he’d love to take you back to Texas and show you his fathers farm. Maybe even have a farm with you someday. A suburban house with a white picket fence and dog. It’s the last thing you’d expect from Javi, but in a sense, he craves the normality of it all.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Uh, he doesn’t like drugs? DEA agent and all. He doesn’t like the rain because it ruins his hair and he hates the way his colourful shirts stick to his skin. You tell him it’s sexy, though. He doesn’t like big events where he has to see and interact with a bunch of people.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He snores so loud. For the love of God, he needs to see a sleep therapist or some shit. Thankfully, you grow used to it, but you don’t know how he doesn’t wake himself up!

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[babbushka]

For Flip Friday, I’d love to hear about Flip hating life while trying to show off his non-existent handy man skills! He should stick to chopping wood instead of trying to be Mr Fix It lol.

Thank you!!! 💗

A/N: Lol my queen hello! Thank you for sending this in of your own accord and not at all being influenced by me whatsoever 😉

1.1k, no warnings, just nonsense lol (inspired by real events)

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The toilet is running. You can hear it even all the way downstairs, where you’re flipping through a magazine on the couch on a scorchingly hot summer afternoon. There’s an oscillating fan blowing air this way and that, and even despite that noise, you can hear the toilet running.

This isn’t the first time it’s happened either, the upstairs bathroom has been acting up more and more lately. Every time you went to deal with it though, it miraculously stopped -- almost like a car that will make noise every other moment other than when it’s at the mechanic’s.

But this time, you don’t dare approach the toilet, figuring that the most sensible thing to do would be to catch it off guard; which prompts you to call out to your dearly beloved husband who is sticking his head in the freezer to attempt to cool off himself, “I’m going to call the plumber, you’re home on Friday right?”

“What?” He calls back, making you get up with a slight groan. It was too hot to move, let alone get up, but the phone is on the wall in the hallway, so you muster up the strength to leave the direct line of cool air from the fan.

“Friday? The plumber?” You reiterate as you pass the kitchen on your way to the phone, and now that he can hear you fully, he immediately begins to protest.

Removing himself from the freezer, Flip furrows his brow and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not in one of his usual button-downs, instead sporting a white thin tank-top that shows off his muscles deliciously. Whether he does so consciously or not, those biceps of his flex, almost like a challenge for something.

“What the fuck do we need a plumber for?” Frowning, Flip’s eyes dart between you and the phone in your hand as you begin to dial the number.

“The toilet is running again.” You explain, as the line rings, and you’re pretty sure someone was just about to answer when Flip’s big fingers press down on the receiver, effectively hanging up the damn call.

You shoot him a dirty glare, but he’s unfazed by it, instead brushing past you to head up the stairs himself.

“Oh, if that’s all, then I’ll just go fix it.” He says, as if he’s got any experience whatsoever with plumbing.

Flip was a handy man, of course. He worked in a lumbermill for fuck’s sake, he knew his way around wood. You both knew you could count on him to fix a wide range of household maintenance, and he took great pride in being able to do these things for his home. But there were certain skills that required a little more technical knowledge, things like electrical wiring, and, well, plumbing.

He’s halfway up the stairs when you decide that maybe he shouldn’t be fuckin’ around with the pipes in case he floods the upstairs, but you phrase it in the only way that you know how to avoid bruising his ego -- trying to get him to come to the conclusion that the plumber should be called.

“...Are you sure honey?” You start, apprehension in your voice.

“‘Am I sure’ -- of course I’m fuckin’ sure. I helped build this house, I can fix the damn plumbing on my own, I’m sure it just needs a bit of elbow grease is all.” Flip scoffs, lighting up a cigarette and rummaging through the upstairs closet for one of the many tool-kits he has stashed around the house, inspecting it to make sure his wrenches were there.

“Flip -- ”

“C’mon, don’t you trust me? I tinker with stuff around the house all the time.” He points out, and while you agree, still your earlier hesitation lingers.

“I know but plumbing is different than a wobbly table or a stiff door-hinge.” You point out right back, and Flip, filled with more self-confidence than he probably should have, just waves you off.

“You go right back to that fan and magazine and keep cool and don’t worry about it. I’ll be back down in no time.” He blows you a kiss, which you have no choice but to return, before shaking your head and doing as he says, knowing that once he gets his mind set on something, there’s no changing it.

Back on the couch, you wait.

It doesn’t take too long for the first noise to start up -- a loud bang that sounds suspiciously like Flip dropping the toilet tank lid.

“Everything’s fine!” He shouts preemptively, and you have to bite back a grin, the urge to chant I told you so so strong in the forefront of your mind.

Theoretically, you knew how toilets worked; you push the handle, a plug opens and the water drains out of the basin. New water from the tank fills the basin, and then the plug closes, letting a new batch of water fill the tank for the next flush. A buoy in the tank rises, and when it hits the top, the water filling the tank stops -- and this seems to be the issue that this particular toilet has had, for whatever reason, when the buoy rises to the top, the water just...keeps going.

Hence the running.

You know that Flip knows how this works too, but what you’re positive he doesn’t know, is how the hell to make the water stop running, short of just shutting the water line off to that toilet.

And that’s about when you hear another loud crash, this time accompanied by an even louder, “Oh for fuck’s sake!”

Training your ear up to the bathroom, you hear the tell-tale sound of water spraying, and you wince, the image of the inlet valve spitting high pressure water all over your husband and the floor.

“God dammit -- ” There’s all sorts of shouting now, loud cursing that only grows more and more aggravated and panicked, “No! Stop -- fuck -- shit!”

There’s more banging, and a very loud thud that sounds suspiciously like Flip has either slipped on the wet tile, or tripped over something, and you do your best not to ask if he’s okay, because you know you’ll only get snapped at in his own frustration.

The toilet is still running, when you hear the sound of his heavy footfalls coming back down the stairs.

You bite back a laugh at the sight of him, when he finally does come into the living room, standing before you a man defeated. His white tank-top is completely and see-through, his hair is wet, his jeans are unfortunately soaked in a spot that makes it look like he pissed himself, and there are streaks of black grease from the toilet plug smeared across his face, hands, and shirt.

The two of you look at one another for a moment, before he slowly nods his head, clearing his voice and rubbing at the back of his neck, “I think we should call a plumber.”

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[nobodies-png]

Okay. So this is like, the funniest prompt that I found, wrote a bit for, and forgot about. I wrote it for a different fandom, and then thought "Organization XIII would be funny for this..." Org. XIII is turned into children and now the Reader has to (make sure they don't die) take care of them. Ages like... 4-9 because that's when children are the funniest. Do what you will with it

ngl im a sucker for old cliche prompts like these, every fandom has at least an au for this specific setting or some kindergarden au lolol

anyway here’s some HCs as to how they’d act and stuff !

Xemnas :

One of the oldest kids, but you don’t really know what to make of him. You were expecting Xemnas to still lead the rest, scare them into submission with a simple glare or something - turns out he’s rather timid. Barely speaks, you get the feeling he’s ignoring you on purpose, just makes a lot of faces and noises to indicate what he’s feeling. 

Somewhat clingy too, but unlike Demyx and Xigbar who want to get your attention through any means possible, Xemnas just grabs onto the hem of your shirt and follows you everywhere in silence. Doesn’t cause much trouble, but he doesn’t help you keep the others in check either, a true neutral I guess. 

Sometimes, he will just disappear and show up whenever you least expect him. Loves to climb and sit on tall places. Spaces out a lot. Compared to the rest, you can probably leave him to his own devices, as long as he’s not left alone with Xigbar or Larxene. 

Xigbar :

Actually the oldest, but pretty annoying and high maintenance. If he got on your nerves as his regular self, then you’re in for a fucking ride - this Xigbar is here to cause problems on purpose. He likes to talk, a lot. And it’s sucks because it’s usually endless and mindless chatter or pointing out everything that he sees. 

If he starts to get bored, he’ll scurry off to bother someone else, but it usually ends with someone crying or hurt. Don’t even bother keeping him on a leash, the bastard is too smart to be contained. 

Xigbar is one of those kids that can be extremely useful if you get him on your side, as he has no problem snitching and ratting out the others. The best way to keep him from losing his other eye or gouging out someone else’s is to bribe or trick him into helping you (just know that he can also be bribed by the other kids, Xigbar WILL betray you). 

Xaldin :

You expected Zexion to be the loner type, but turns out it’s Xaldin - he’ll always be on his own or avoiding the others, usually around the kitchen since you’ve banned everyone from going in there until they return to normal (not that they listen to you, but oh well). 

Xaldin is pretty much like those kids who hate being treated like kids and who pretend to be above the rest. While he might seem calm, it’s really easy to get him riled up, a simple “I bet you can’t do this or that” and he’s off to prove himself. 

Oddly enough, he gets jealous easily - if you give Roxas a cookie or whatever for behaving, then you GOTTA give Xaldin one too or else he’ll throw a fit. The best thing you can do with him is be honest and confess that you need him to chill the fuck out and Not Die :tm: while you take care of the others, he’ll feel all grown up because you told him the truth and will calmly stay in his room. 

Vexen :

One of the oldest kids, the stereotypical kid who only has ONE interest and won’t shut the fuck up about it, which is cute but not everyone has the patience to sit through a 6 hour talk about dinosaurs. You never expected this baby Vexen to be so into dinosaurs out of all things. Of course, just because he only talks about them, doesn’t mean he’s not curious about all that shiny lab equipment. 

You can’t keep him distracted with dinosaur books all day, he still has the heart and mind of a scientist ! Because he’s a very obvious nerd, he’s the target for a lot of members in the organization, namely Larxene - and when Vexen gets flustered or frustrated, he freezes up. Literally. He WILL freeze the entire room too.

Your best bet is to pair him up with Zexion or Xion, since they’ll gladly sit down to listen and learn. The three will gladly stay locked up in the library learning and reading. You just gotta hope Vexen doesn’t instantly crush Zexion and Xion’s dreams by ruining their fairytales with facts and logic.

Lexaeus : 

Also one of the older kids and the tallest too. This Lexaeus is just as stoic and intimidating as the original, but apparently he’s also very sensitive. Everytime he speaks to you it sounds like he might be about to cry. But he looks fine ? So you really don’t know what to do about him. 

Either way, Lexaeus is also very helpful and responsible, so you can trust him to watch over the rowdy kids and keep them relatively safe, just try not to pair him with the suuuper loud ones. 

Probably the type to take the blame and responsibility for any pranks gone wrong under his watch, even if you fully know there’s no way he’s responsible. Lexaeus is the epitome of “I just want everyone to get along”. Somehow, he’s very gentle with the others (as gentle as one can be when straight up dragging Xigbar out of the ventilation system) but he’ll break any toys and other items given to him.

Zexion :

Zexion is very very small, so you can probably understand the stress he’s going through, surrounded by these animals. Like Xemnas and Demyx, he’d be pretty clingy but he wouldn’t be able to follow you around or cling to you with all the others pushing and fighting around. 

So you can either just carry him on your shoulders or leave him with Lexaeus or Vexen as mentioned before. If not, Zexion will wander and either fall asleep in the Grey Area or find the library on his own. 

Not a problematic child, really. Zexion lacks the energy and the feralness to join any shenanigans - he's also smart enough to know that he’ll be better off listening to you and staying clear out of safety hazards. Though there’s always the chance of other members taking advantage of Zexion’s naive and curious nature.

Saix :

You were expecting him to be a tiny version of his regular self, bitter and strict. Surprisingly, he’s way more fun as a kid, glued to Axel by the hip too. They’re the duo you should look out for - Axel is the one who gets them in trouble and Saix is the one who makes sure you never notice they were behind it all. 

The one with a TERRIBLE temper right after waking up. Saix won’t hesitate to bite and claw anyone who tries to wake him up, even Axel knows better than to try. If it’s nap time, let him go, don’t even try to stop him. Don’t let anyone else near him.

Other than that ? A very nice kid in general, he feels a sense of responsibility when it comes to the younger members, so he’ll be the one to keep Axel in check whenever Zexion, Roxas or Xion are around. As for the older ones ? They’re on their own.  

Axel :

Axel is the first one to say “fuck” and it spreads like wildfire. So if you start hearing a bunch of kids swear at the top of their lungs, you know who caused it. You’ll also know because you’ll find him laughing and wheezing on the ground. 

Somewhat naive, if you tell him he can’t say “invertebrae” because it’s a swear world, he’ll believe you. But SURPRISINGLY he’s very aware of how dangerous his fire powers are - like, Axel wants to cause trouble on purpose, but he doesn’t really want anything to escalate and get anyone actually hurt. Unless it’s Vexen. If it’s Vexen, then it’s fine by him. 

You might hear “Y/N, LOOK” before seeing Axel in the kitchen casting fucking Firaga on a bag of Totinos or something. He and Demyx somehow keep getting targeted by the Dusks, who love to play pranks on them. 

Demyx :

Most likely to eat food off the ground, or anything shiny and colorful, really. He has the exact same vibes as the little brother who likes to follow people he thinks are cool to try and impress them, just to be considered a cool kid too. 

Demyx is very clingy but also a sneaky kid, he can easily cry his heart out so you’ll pay attention and protect him from people he’s pissed off. This is literally why most of the kids don’t like to be around him, cause he’s THAT kid who will ruin everyone’s funs by calling the responsible adult if he gets upset.

Instead of being musically inclined, Demyx just makes a lot of noise - constant loud humming, blowing raspberries, stomping his feet or tapping/hitting things, repeating funny noises or phrases he picks up. Probably has an old ass iPod or an MP3 you can distract him with.

Luxord :

DO YOU KNOW THOSE LITTLE KIDS WHO ARE SMARTASSES ? The ones who act like they know the mysteries of the world and give you a look of superiority because you clearly don’t know what tubby custard really is ? Yeah, that’s Luxord.

Full of fun facts that he LOVES to brag about, but most of them are fake and he’s none the wiser. You cannot correct him either because it’ll be like telling an 8 year old that Santa isn’t real. Thankfully, you don’t HAVE to correct him because that’s what Xaldin is for. 

Most likely to steal Xigbar’s eyepatch for himself and somehow convince everyone else that it was HIS eyepatch in the first place. How ? We don’t know, we just don’t know. Also Luxord might just steal little trinkets from everyone and stash them under his bed like the little creacher he is. If you can’t find your keys, you know who’s got em.

Marluxia :

A natural big brother figure. Very understanding too, even if you’ve heard from Larxene that he’s tired of everyone pulling his hair and that he might shave it all off just so they all stop. Yeah, there’s some lingering resentment in there. He’s 50/50 on being a little bastard and an angel.

Marluxia volunteers to help you take care of the other kids, mostly because he likes bossing others around and because he also likes reading books to Zexion and Xion so they fall asleep. 

LOVES to leave trails of petals and flowers wherever he goes, but REFUSES to clean up. Always seen with Larxene - Marluxia is also lowkey competitive so he sees the Axel + Saix duo as rivals. In what, exactly ? Who knows. VERY picky with food too. Actually, just very picky and petty in general.

Larxene :

The one kid who develops a personal vendetta against you from day 1. Larxene DESPISES being told what to do, so if you’re constantly telling her not to do this, to do that and whatever, she will make your life a living hell and do the opposite out of spite. 

You didn’t hear this from me, but Larxene is GENUINELY upset that she keeps accidentally zapping people whenever she plays with them. It’s really hard for her to apologize too, so you’ll have to step in a lot to de-escalate the situation.

Larxene sticks forks in outlets JUST to scare others, since she cannot get hurt at all by electricity. She just seems to enjoy making others afraid.

Roxas :

One of the youngest, Roxas doesn’t KNOW what “using your indoor voice” means, he’s either DEAD quiet or SCREAMING about how he’d like to have ice cream as a treat, please and thank you. It’s really fucking funny to see honestly. Just make sure he doesn’t sneak up on you and scare you shitless.

The type who gets dragged into shenanigans rather than cause them - he’s a very neutral and calm kid otherwise. The worst thing he can do is just steal everyone’s dessert or something because of that intense sweet tooth he’s got.

A lot of the older kids LOVE trying to get him and Xion to laugh, because Roxas has this permanent poker face AND because they both have really funny snort giggle laughs. 

Xion : 

Also one of the youngest, very sweet, patient and polite ! Xion also tends to be very clingy, always needing to hold hands with someone whenever she walks around Castle Oblivion. No one has the heart to tell her no, either.

Can get VERY VERY irritating and angry when someone tries to make fun of her or Roxas. Like a little hurricane of puppies - Xion won’t stop pestering all the meanies until she’s received a proper apology. If she somehow ends up hurting someone, she’ll insist on making up too.

Xion also tends to copy people she likes, similar to Demyx. You might catch her imitating your movements or way of speaking, or even copying the Dusks’ movements - but just make sure she doesn’t see you, Xion will explode out of embarrassment.

[daddyd0nt]

I don’t know why you don’t just transition. Like you’re obviously not actually a radfem other radfems hate you. You say it’d make you happier to be a trans man. Just do it. You’re already an autistic white trash tweaker you couldn’t possibly make your life any worse. Just transition. You don’t deprive yourself of anything else why are you depriving yourself of this?

Honestly? Because Id know it wasn't real. My fiancé asks me the same thing because im so easily triggered to dysphoria but it would be a whole thing and id just rather not exert the effort because, in my heart, Id know id always be female. No matter what I do when they dig up my skeleton they will say "this was a female" so its not really worth changing names and pronouns and makin a whole thing of it especially while my grandparents are still alive id just rather plea the 5th on that one.

Im too afraid to transition medically bc Im terrified of needles and medical shit so what would I change? I already have short hair and facial hair from an intersex condition that i dont shave because im not trusted with razors but like dresses are convenient I wouldnt want to give those up as much as I hate thinking of myself in them I guess the honest answer i it is more low effort to just be an ugly woman than it would be to transition especially when like i said id know in my heart that I wasnt really male and im not willing to commit to uncomfortable shit like binding and also the desire to have a less feminine shape triggers my ED and like i said there are feminine things like comfortable dresses that I do like that I wouldnt feel comfortable if I were to commit to a male identity.

And then it would put B in the political trap of having to call himself gay when he is not and like i said be a whole thing that id rather just avoid by staying an ugly girl rather than an average guy.

If it were indulgent id go for it but Ive tried indulging before and it just made me hyper-aware of my body and how other perceived me unlike now where i can just kind of pretend i dont have a physical form. So yeah, laziness and the belief that birth sex matters and can't be changed are i guess whats standing in my way.

It's not like id do anything different if I were a man, if anything trying to force an identity would undo the layer of dissociation that ive built up to live with being myself and in this fat, abused, tainted, female body and failing to meet milestones and falling behind all my peers and still feeling like a terrified kid from CPTSD/Disordered personality/autism. I have to force a lot of fog to cope with being this. Formal transition would mean clearing out the fog and getting in touch with my body which Id kind of just rather not do. Id rather just dress comfortably and keep my hair the way that it is comfortable and forgo typical female maintenance like shaving and make up and continue to avoid my reflection in mirrors and pretend im made of stardust.

[obae-me]

“Can you write the brothers with an MC who has a big scary looking dog but is actually really friendly, and a small adorable cuddly cat but actually hates new people?”

So Tumblr screwed me over a small bit by deleting a draft of an ask someone gave me, even though it still says I have a draft, when I go back to my drafts they’re gone, so I had to rewrite it. I have learned my lesson for not keeping it saved on something else. So I hope the quality didn’t suffer for it.

Thank you to the person who sent me this request, I’m sorry I can’t remember your blog name! You were really very friendly so thank you, stay hydrated and take care of yourself! 💜

Lucifer

When MC came to the devildom with two animals in tow, he wasn’t ready for the new year of having to look after three new additions to the household. Especially after many many Henry incidents, and that one Satan fiasco with the cats. It took them months to clean up all that cat hair. However, much to Lucifer’s surprise, MC took care of them really well. He gained a new respect for MC’s ability to follow through with responsibilities.

He did find it amusing that MC had a huge dog following them around. Of course they weren’t as big as Cerberus or nearly as terrifying, but MC’s pet was fairly intimidating for a normal creature.

He’s a dog person for sure. He’ll bond with MC’s dog faster than anyone would expect. Some of it having to do with the fact that Lucifer was the only brother willing to approach them at first.

He wasn’t surprised that the pet was lovable. He could tell that there was no malice in their eyes even when they barked at him. If he felt the pet needed some behavioral lessons, he’d gladly help MC with it. He trained Cerberus with his own two hands after all. 

He’d give the dog many secret treats and pets while no one was looking.

The cat though, he’d stay away from that one. One attempt to pet it as a show good spirits and one pair of his favorite gloves were ruined.

Mammon

MC had pets? He was excited for em, especially since Lucifer had never let him have a pet, and since they were MC’s he could have all the benefits of a pet without having to take care of them!

He tried bonding with the cat first since the small thing looked nothing like their dog. They were so tiny it was hard to believe it wasn’t a kitten. They had the biggest eyes, eyes that just begged for love! But when Mammon tried to pick the cat up, they hissed, leaving a large scratch mark on his face as they dashed under MC’s bed. He found it best to leave the cat alone from now on.

MC’s dog scared him for a while, though he’d never admit it, he’d just avoid the pet whenever he saw them. One day in particular, when the dog spotted him, it ran after him at full speed, causing Mammon to shriek and sprint away with colorful language. He’s the fastest demon so he got away just fine, but he could still hear them clawing at the door.

On the search to find their dog, just to find them sulking at Mammon’s door, MC went inside to find him curled up in the backseat of one of his cars. They dragged him out and sat him on his bed and slowly introduced the two to each other. MC’s dog had just been chasing him because they wanted to play. Mammon knew that, for sure, totally.

He’ll make sure to give both pets plenty of toys to make sure he doesn’t become their next one. 

Levi

Pets that had fur instead of scales? And they weren’t named Henry? MC was a typical Normie. 

He’d appreciate both of them from a distance, the last thing he wants is hair on his figures and in his equipment. He shudders to remember when he cleaned out his keyboard after the Cat Incident.

He does love that MC has pets though, don’t get him wrong. He’ll reminisce about all the fond memories he had about all his Henrys. He and MC will share fun pet stories and gush over photos.

He’ll eventually allow MC to try to acquaint him with their pets, but he’s not sure how well it will go since he has too many bad memories of Cerberus chasing him, snarling at him, ruining an entire manga collection. And cats love fish, what if they get their claws on his precious Henry?! 

It surprisingly went okay, he enjoys now trying to get MC’s dog to do cool tricks that he’s seen in anime. As for the cat, Levi often finds them in his room, tail flicking as they closely watch and gently swat at the fish that swim by. He also tends to find them curled up on his warm consoles. There’s something comforting about having a little companion while he plays his games, something his fish can’t always give him. 

Satan

Cat?? MC has a cat?? Lucifer banned him from bringing cats into the house, so the fact that MC had one meant that he could pay attention to them all he wanted, and Lucifer couldn’t prevent him from doing so.

His brothers were idiots to try and immediately lay hands on the cat. He had read about feline behavior and knew that you let the cat decide to initiate contact if they’re particularly scared of people.

So he’d get the kitty used to him first, by going into MC’s room and making sure it was obvious he was friendly with the owner. And then he’d just sit there in silence and read for hours, making sure they were now used to his presence.

It took a few days of patience but then he finally watched in glee as the small cat padded over to him warily, smelling him and making sure he wasn’t dangerous. Satan slowly held his hand out, making sure that the cute thing nuzzled against his fingers first before he would gently scratch under their chin.

His other brothers now looked at him in awe as Satan now often had the cat in his lap while he read, while most of them couldn’t even get close.

He didn’t quite bond with the dog, but he did occasionally give the pup a pat on the head. 

Asmo

He’s not really a pet person, like, at all. Hair all over his clothes? Constantly smelling like an animal, and not in the way he’s usually used to? No thank you! He could’ve understood if it was a cute dog you could keep in a purse or an elegant cat that made the owner look like royalty, but they were neither.

But, much to even his own surprise, he came around to them. Enthusiastically so, even, much to the shock of the House of Lamentation. It started with just pictures of them. Cats and dogs do great on Devilgram and this could be a good opportunity to show people he has a secret side.

His profile skyrocketed, which was impressive since he’s already immensely popular. His beautiful face night near these cute creatures gets him even more likes than before.

Before MC knows it, somehow he has their dog trained to sit and pose for the camera. He’ll even buy special collars and cute little accessories for the pets, making sure they look super cute for all of their photo-shoots, not as much as he is but close enough.

If the cat ever scratches him he’ll ensure MC makes up for it by giving his wound a kiss.

Beel

Beel is a puppy himself, let’s be honest. MC finds it incredibly cute how alike they are. They’re both big, strong, and intimidating, but when you get to know both of them, they’re loyal, lovable, and precious. 

He gets along great with both of the animals. The cat would scratch him to heaven and back, but he didn’t budge, and sooner than later the kitty warmed up to him. They would oftentimes treat him like a climbing post, clawing their way up his body just to stand on his shoulders, but he didn’t mind. 

As for the dog, it started off by stalking Beel, playfully of course. It didn’t stop any of the brothers from having a mini heart attack, though, as they watched MC’s huge intimidating dog slowly making their way across the hall, haunches ready to strike. The dog could play-bite him, tug at his clothes, and jump on him all they wanted to, he was unbothered. He’d even share some of his food with them.

Beel and the dog would even play-wrestle, it was great for both of them as they would expel their energy and spend more time together. And of course MC would bring both of them plenty of treats for being good. 

Belphie

He doesn’t like dogs, they’re too loud and rambunctious. Not to mention high maintenance. He prefers cats given the chance, but even sometimes they’re still too much work. 

He did make an attempt to pet the cat, only for it to attack as soon as it got the chance. It left a big hole in his favorite pillowcase. He was offended. It was supposed to be friendly, cute, and cuddly, and yet it struck back and attacked him immediately. The irony was lost on him.

MC decided that they wanted the two to get along since they were sure they would be best buds given the chance. 

When Belphie went to go take a nice nap, MC brought their tiny kitty over to his slumbering body, placing them on top of him over his blanket. The cat was tense at first, but he was so warm and comfortable, they stretched out and curled up on him. When Belphie opened his eyes and saw the wide, irresistibly cute eyes staring back at him, he couldn’t move. He just went back to bed.

Now it’s a rare sight when the two aren’t together, taking naps near the fireplace, outside under the stars. He’ll never tell anyone how he now loves to fall asleep to the sound of the cat’s purring.   

[grace-likes-things]

Beside Her

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

A/N: uhh it’s been a while. Here’s this! And here’s to me posting a random one-shot every two years lmaoooooo. Disclaimer: alternate reality where no one died/left after endgame.

Summary: A mission Peter’s off the job for, and which goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: blood, major character death, this one is v angsty folks.

Word Count: almost 6k 

~~~~~~~

“So, am I alright to go with?”

“No way, Peter. Your sling may be off but your arm can't handle the kind of wear you put it through yet. Give it another day or so.”

Peter sighs, exasperated, “But the mission’s tonight!”

“Nuh, uh, Pete,” my dad cuts in across the room, “You’re staying here, doctor’s orders. I told you we’d check, and we did, and Helen says no.”

“Mr. Stark—!”

“Not me, Helen, you really gonna combat her decision?”

Dr. Cho gives Peter a stern look, having had experience with his impulsively-gained-injuries before. He turns away, ducking his eyes, knowing not to challenge her. 

“Peter it’s fine,” I say, hand on his good shoulder, “You’ll join us on the next one.”

“If—“ my dad buts in, “he doesn't go shatter half the bones in his arm again. And don't go assuming you’ll be on the next one, Y/N, I'm hardly supportive of you coming with tonight as it is.”

I sigh, turning stubbornly towards him as he waltzes out of the room, “I've been training for over 3 years, dad I—“ 

“Nope. Still my kid, don't push your luck. We’re t-minus 1 hour out, so go get ready,” and with that, he turns the corner and leaves. 

“Sorry Pete, better luck next time.” Helen picks up her clipboard and departs, leaving us alone in the room.

I turn to Peter, who’s looking rather defeated about the fact that he won't be allowed on the first mission in three months. I nudge his shoulder playfully, “Hey, think on the bright side, now you get to snoop around the lab uninterrupted for a couple hours.”

He gives me a halfhearted smile, “Yeah? I still wish I could be out there with you.”

His eyes change into an anxious look. I look at him, sympathetic, and grab his hand in mine. 

Since the snap, the fight with Thanos, and almost losing my dad, Peter’s had this protective, premature-guilt complex concerning the people close to him. We got lucky not losing anyone, but I think seeing my dad recover from mourning us and the near-death experience I had in the battle, he’s not really comfortable being separated from us in a fight.

“I know. But it’s relatively minor, from what I’ve heard. I mean — minor enough to convince my dad to let me tag along, so.“

“Yeah, I know. I just hate not being there to have your back.”

I lean into his side, shoving him playfully, “You suggesting I can’t handle myself?”

“Absolutely not,” and I see I’ve forced a grin onto his face, “Just think, ya know, maybe your dad’s had a few too many juice pops lately, and I gotta be concerned — I mean, a gain in weight could throw off his balance in the suit—“ 

“Oh! Throwing my dad under the bus here, are we?” I laugh, “That’s funny, maybe I’ll mention it to him later.”

“Kidding! Don't tell your dad I said he’s fat — he's not.” He hangs onto my hand as I stand from the med-bay bed, “He’s a very fit man, you know, for his age.”

I laugh, “This just gets better and better! I’ll make sure to tell him you think he’s old too after I get ready.” 

I move to walk away, but Peter stops me, tugging my hand gently.

“Hey, but seriously,” he murmurs, “be careful tonight. Come back in one piece for me. Okay?”

“Of course,” I say, and lean my forehead against his, “And you have a fantastically boring night, let your arm rest. Don't get into any trouble.”

He kisses me long and gentle, “I’ll try not to.”

——————

Tonight’s mission was a fairly routine one. One of the lingering branches of Hydra left, hiding in a bunker and planning nothing good. We’d all been briefed on the most recent information about their weapons and tactics, and the team had decided tonight was the time to shut the place down. 

I examine the repulsors in the palms of my suit, sleeker like Peter’s, but armed similarly to my dad’s. There’s about 15 minutes before we fly out, so I tuck my braids beside my neck — getting my hair caught in the helmet seriously blows — and make my way up to the launch pad. 

“Hey, offspring!” my dad plants his hand on my head and shakes it, “You still wanna come along on this one? Sure you don't wanna stay home? Absolutely? Because you know, you’re welcome to, in fact, DUM-E's been missing you down in the lab, i’m sure he’d appreciate your company—“

“Nuh uh, old man, I'm going with. You said so.”

“Oh, so I’m old now? You know, I did end up with an extra five years than you, so you can cut me a little slack.”

I laugh and walk onto the quinjet to meet the team, “Never.”

————————

“You all remember your assignments?” Steve asks, “Me and Sam, Tony and Wanda, Nat and Y/N.”

A chorus of yes’s and nods follow, as if this wasn’t the fourth time we’d answered that question. 

The ride to the bunker is relatively boring, other than my dad pestering me with Stay with nat, and don't get distracted, and be careful, and don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don't do anything Peter would do. Nat and Wanda chuckle at my situation from across the quinjet, and it was getting pretty old by the time we landed a bit outside the target. 

Once we’ve all gotten set with weapons and coms, we start out on the jog to the bunker. Upon arriving there, Nat and I are tasked with stealing a hard drive that contains targets and weapons data. From what we know, it’s in a room close to the center of the building, so we have a long way to go while trying to get noticed as little as possible. 

My dad tells me to stay safe and call for him if needed before we part ways, and Nat and I are alone in a dark hall.

“Alright,” Nat whispers, “We move toward the center of the bunker, 4 floors down, we’ll use the vents if we have to. They might cause a scene somewhere else, but our job is to keep hidden, all the way in and out if we’re lucky.”

“And when are we ever lucky?” I murmur back with a smirk.

“Don’t jinx it, kid, let’s go.”

For the most part, the beginnings of the mission are easy. We used Friday’s heat signatures for a full week to map out the guards’ schedules, so we knew what halls to stick to and when. Making our way to the less-monitored maintenance stairwell, we walk in silence, keeping an ear out for updates over the coms. Just as we reach the bottom of the third flight of stairs, a pair of guards walks through the doors.

“Hello, boys,” Nat says and quickly turns to me, “I’ll take the tall one.”

With that, we spring to action.

The pair raise their weapons toward us, but Nat quickly disarms the man across from her while I blast the gun from the shorter man’s hand and drag him through the doorway before he can reach the alarm on the outside wall. Slamming him into the stair railings, he tries to get rid of me by throwing a headbutt my way, but my suit takes the brunt of the impact. Pulling my arm back and releasing his wrist, I aim a punch square at his face and hear a crack when it lands on his nose. After a disdainful grunt, he shoves me back and tries to kick my legs out from under me, but I quickly grab hold of his ankle and yank up. The man lands harshly on the floor, and one kick is all it takes to knock him out. 

When I look up, Nat has already beat her opponent and is checking the outer hall for more guards. “It’s clear,” she says, and we both take the ankles of the two guards and drag them through the door into the nearest room, tying them up securely before jamming the door in place. 

“I hope they enjoy a nice nap, let’s keep moving,” Natasha says, and we make our way back to the stairwell.

Finally on the fourth lower level, we hold ourselves with a bit more caution. This is where they guard more heavily, and we still have quite a ways to travel before we’re near the center of the building. With light steps, we make our way down the dimly lit halls, occasionally ducking through doorways and turning corners to avoid passing agents, guards and other workers. It seems as if most of the work they do happens down here, as we constantly see high-ranking members and people in lab coats muttering to one another as they roam the halls. I’m only able to catch a few words of any given conversation, and of the ones that were spoken in English, none of them sound pleasant.

Nat and I travel fairly uninterrupted for the next few halls before she stops me and says, “Alright, we’re close to the center now. The hard drive we need is going to be in a lab somewhere around here, so we’re checking rooms. If there are any heat signatures, we clear it together. If Friday doesn’t pick any up, we split and multitask.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Oh? Going against my dad’s orders, huh?”

She gives me a wry smile, “You seem to be able to handle yourself, and it’ll get us out of here faster,” she points at me, “Just don't make me regret it.”

I laugh, “I won’t.”

And with that, we start scanning the upcoming rooms.

The first room we check has a few Hydra agents inside, so we clear it together, check the computers for the right information and come up empty handed, breaking the doorknob and continuing on. We go about this for a while, knocking out the occupied rooms together, splitting up to clear empty rooms, checking for the right hard drive, and moving on. It’s tedious, but no alarms have been activated so far, and we make a good team. 

Now very close to the center of the bunker, we come upon another few rooms free of heat signatures, so we once again divide and conquer. We have to be getting close now.

“I’ll take this one on the left, you’ve got the right?” I ask, walking carefully toward the door.

“Gotcha, call if you find anything.”

I open the large metal door and take a cautious step in, examining the room around me. There are no lights on, so I use a light on my suit to see my surroundings. 

It’s strange, the room is large with high ceilings, but is pretty much empty. A few scraps of metal and packaging are strewn about the floor. Concrete floors and dark walls line the place. I take a few steps further in to double check that I haven’t missed anything, but all I see is one door on the opposite side. I turn back to exit when the entrance I came through slams shut in front of me. Alarmed, I run forward and try to open it, but the handle won't budge.

“Nat!” I whisper hushed through the coms, “The door shut behind me, can you get it from the outside?”

I hear her footsteps approach from the other side and the sound of her trying to open the door, “I can't get it, and the lock must be electric, there’s nothing to pick. How’d this close on you?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see it.”

I hear a new voice over the coms, “Wait, did you two get separated?” My dad’s voice resounds with a hint of anxiety, “What did we talk about, Y/N? I said to stay with—“ 

“I tried! Not my fault the door shut behind me.”

“Well you should’ve gone through the door with Nat in the first place!”

“Hey!” Natasha’s voice cuts in, “While I would love to listen to you two bicker, we’ve got a job to do. She’s fine, Tony, we’ll figure it out.”

“I could just blast the door handle—“

“No, Y/N, it’ll be too loud, we’ve gotten this far without being noticed.” I hear Nat huff through the door, “It’s in our best interest to keep it that way. Friday’s telling me there’s another door, leads out to a hall. I can go around and meet you there. It's further toward the center, so at least if you have to blast the thing down we’ll be closer to the target.”

“Sounds good, I’ll wait for you,” I say, and with that, Natasha stalks off through the halls. 

I turn to make my way across the room, walking leisurely. This place really is unusually huge for a seemingly-unused underground room, about the size of a school gymnasium. I’m wondering if it may have been used for storage or training when I hear a noise to my left.

Turning swiftly with my guard now up, I see a male guard walk through a side door. Another entrance? How did I miss that? I ready my fists in a fighting stance and call through the coms, “Hey Nat? This room was occupied, I’ve got it handled for now but you might wanna make it here quick.”

Strangely, I get no response, but I don't have time to dwell on that fact because the man is charging toward me.

He’s a good fighter, and we both land some hard hits as we combat to occupy the room. I flip over him and blast him into the wall, but he recovers abnormally quickly and rises up again for more. I land another punch to his stomach once he’s in range, but he quickly grabs my wrist after and squeezes with inhuman strength, crushing the thin-design gauntlet on my hand. The metal cuts into my palm before tear what remains off and launch him over my shoulder onto the floor. I move to kick his side but he grabs my leg and throws me off balance, and my back hits the floor in a harsh slam. Groaning, I try to sit up as the guard grabs a metal pole off the floor — oh shit — and slams it onto my other palm, crushing my second gauntlet. Two hands now bare, aching, and unarmed, I continue to fight at a slight disadvantage. But I’ve trained for years, I can handle this.

It turns out maybe I couldn’t handle it. 

The guard has to be one of Hydra’s human experiments, because he’s stronger than the average adult. I struggle to gain the upper hand for several minutes. He's had me pinned me to the ground, and just when I think his weight is lifting off me he brings down the pole on my side. Hard. 

I groan and curl away. Even through the thin — and now damaged — metal of my suit, the blow took the air out of me. I press my palms to the cold floor to push myself up, but another blow strikes my back and I collapse forward. Finally, the man grabs a fistful of my hair and slams my head into the ground, and a ringing suddenly starts in my ears. Dizzy, head aching, and barely able to think, the next thing I register is being dragged across the room to the opposite wall by my wrists, which are then cuffed in front of me.

And strangely, the guard who put all that effort into beating me walks out of the room.

“Hey!” I shout, “What’s going on, asshole!? Come back here!” But he doesn’t return, and shuts that same side door behind him. I groan in frustration, head still pounding in pain, and try to reach the team again, “Anyone hear me? I’m still in this room, my gauntlets are broken and I'm cuffed, anyone around?” No response, “Hello?”

I’m starting to think Hydra somehow interrupted our signal when another noise distracts me from across the room. 

The door opens once again, and this time five people exit. Four guards and…

Peter.

A chill surges down my spine.

They’re dragging Peter into the room.

“Peter?” I call out, panicked, “Hey! What are you doing with him?”

He’s dressed in plainclothes, so he didn’t come here as Spiderman. He doesn’t look like he’s in the best condition, slumped and hardly fighting the guards who are carrying him to the center of the room. My mind starts racing with all the things they could’ve done — what’s wrong with him? How could they have hurt him so badly he isn't able to fight back, especially with his strength? I need to get him away from them, but if these four guards are anywhere as strong as the last, I need a plan of attack. Or backup. Where is the team?

And how did they get to Peter? Peter Parker, not Spiderman, so not out on the streets — he was supposed to be in the lab tonight. Did they get into the compound? Is anyone else hurt? My mind keeps spiraling into more and more panicked thoughts, and then I hear him.

“Y/N?” He calls out, “Where are we?” His voice is raspy and slurred, and I think they must’ve given him something, some sort of drug. I’m about to call back to him when a guard lifts him up and punches him in the stomach.

“No!” I shout, raising up to my knees and then beginning to stand before one of the four guards points his gun at me. I stay there, kneeling before the scene, not knowing what to do to stop either of us from getting hurt. The three remaining guards begin to beat on him again, kicking and punching and Peter is too delirious to serve any resistance other than curling up and grasping weakly at the ankles of the men hurting him. I can hear his pained whimpers, and my heart squeezes in my chest, I feel tears building in my eyes.

“Stop! Stop hurting him, what do you want?!” I scream, wanting to get closer to him but still at a stand still with the fourth guard, “Come on, tell me what you want! You’re not getting anything by just beating him!”

The three guards pay me no regard, but the fourth, still pointing his gun at me, snickers as if I’ve said something funny.

Peter is still at their mercy, receiving hit after hit and a voice in my head tells me, they’re gonna kill him. You have to do something or they’ll kill him.

“What do you want? Come on, what is it?!” 

And with a heavy accent, the man says, “To cause you misery.”

The chill returns, and I decide — despite my terrible odds — that I have to get them away from Peter. 

I get my feet firmly under me.

I charge toward the guard with the gun, bracing myself.

And he does something I didn’t expect.

He turns the gun on Peter.

I hear three shots.

“NO!” I scream, my eyes go wide and I drop to my knees once again, facing Peter and crawling toward him, “No, no, no, no, no!”

The guards shuffle back into the shadows, laughing, seemingly done with their job, but all I can see is Peter.

I’m frozen for a second, staring, shaking, unable to process the scene before me. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, hands grasping at his chest where blood has begun to pour from three wounds. I race toward him and drop to the ground at his side, placing my cuffed hands firmly over the holes in his chest.

“Peter?” I say, my voice tight and choked, “Hey, hey listen to me, you’re gonna be okay. The rest of the team is here, my dad is here, he's gonna get us out, okay?” A few of my tears leak down onto my hands, running into the blood that now stains them.

“Y/N?” He mumbles, hardly able to speak.

“Yeah, it’s me, I'm so sorry,” I sniff and try to keep my throat from closing up, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop them but you’re gonna be fine, Peter, we’re gonna get help.” 

His face is twisted in pain, and when he tries to speak next, only a cough comes out, and blood bubbles out over his lips.

I fail to hold back a sob and move my hands to his cheeks, “Shh,” I try to get out, but it comes out shaky, like a whimper, “Shh, don’t— don’t try to talk.”

His eyes look into mine, I can see the pain behind them as he lies there, struggling to breathe. I stroke his cheek, and only now come to notice the blood I’ve painted there. I sob again. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, I don't know how to help him.

Can I?

Is it too late?

I cradle his head across my thighs, take one of his hands in mine and leave the other on his cheek, trying to provide some sort of comfort.

“I’m sorry, Peter, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” and I just keep saying it, breathing it out and heaving air back into my lungs between sobs. Tears are constantly tracking down my face now, and i’m doing all I can to subdue them while he’s still conscious, still looking at me. 

My mantra of apologies keeps repeating, and my thumb keeps stroking along his cheek, and I don’t know how long I sit there, crying, mumbling, desperately hoping someone comes to help us before I notice him release a slow, defeated breath.

In, out.

“Peter?” I mumble. My blood freezes in my veins. My breath stills. I wait for his chest to rise again. I watch and pray for it to happen. Please, please, please.

It doesn’t move.

A long, whining sob erupts from deep in my chest as I drop my head and cry, and cry, and cry above him, “No, no, no, no. Please, no.”

I sob, loud and painful, unable to take a breath in anymore. I shut my eyes and don't look up because I can't look at his face — his eyes are still open his eyes are still open. 

I’m never gonna see him again,

I’m never gonna hear his voice again, 

I’m never gonna kiss him again.

The pain in my chest gets worse and I feel dizzy with the force of my sobs.

And then suddenly there are arms under mine, and I'm being dragged backwards.

Away from Peter.

“No, no, no, no, let me go! Let me go!” And what i’m saying is barely coherent between the sobs, “Let me stay with him, please, please!” But the arms hooked under me don't relent, no matter how hard I pry at them, no matter how hard I kick and scream. He’s getting farther and farther away from me, alone in that room, and I can't bear the thought of it.

“Please, let me go!”

And suddenly I hear my name, as if through a haze, but I can’t make out who’s saying it. I don't really care. I have to get back to him, I have to stay with him, I can’t leave him alone.

“Y/N— “

“Y/N it’s us! Come on!”

I pull and pull at the hands around me but I can’t remove them, I keep getting pulled backwards until— 

I’m yanked through a doorway, and the room where Peter lies is dark and blank in front of me.

My hearing isn’t fuzzy anymore.

I gasp in surprise but the sobs haven’t stopped, and my father’s unmasked face appears in front of me.

“Y/N? Hey! You’re okay, we’re here!” His hands are on my face but I swat them away.

“No! Peter’s in there! We can't leave him! We have to take him home, we have to get him home—”

“Y/N— “

“Dad they shot him, I couldn’t help him, I couldn’t help him—“ my words dissolve again into cries of grief.

“Y/N he's not in there.”

I turn to him in confusion.

“He is!” I point my hand frantically toward the doorway, “In the middle of the room! They k— they killed him in there!”

“Y/N…” my dad speaks.

And it’s then that I notice my outstretched hand, pointing toward the door.

There’s no blood on it.

I start to shake harder.

“I- I saw it, I saw it happen I— “

And I notice the thin fog rolling out through the doorway, lazily dispersing along the floor.

I look up. I breathe heavy and shakily. The whole team is staring down at my red, tearstained face. Cap’s face is twisted into concern, Natasha looks sad and sympathetic. Hydra agents lie dead or out cold on the ground, alarms blaring, but no one takes any steps to exit. The raid is over…

And I can't see any blood on my hands.

“Y/N, it was a hallucinogen,” my dad says firm, but gently, “Whatever you saw in there wasn’t real.”

I stare at him, trying to make sense of this. It looked so real. It felt so real.

“But— but I saw it— I felt it, I could feel what they did—“ 

He gently breaks the cuffs from my wrists, “I know, I know kiddo, but it wasn’t real. They know how to get in your head.” 

I shake my head in confusion, “But the cuffs? And my gauntlets are broken—?”

“Whoever did that was real.” Nat cut in, “They hurt you so you wouldn't fight the simulation and then the drugs were pumped into the room.”

I sit there on the floor in front of the Avengers. Disbelief, confusion, and grief all playing across my face. 

“Check the room,” I demand.

My dad points a light into it, and Steve walks through, “No one here, see?”

My mind still races, it felt so real.

“Friday?” My dad speaks up, a gentle hand in my hair, “Where’s Peter now?”

“At the compound, sir, working on his suit in your lab.��

I sniff and mumble out, “Vitals?”

“All normal levels.”

I sigh, squeeze my eyes shut, and drop my head into my hands. A sob of leftover panic and relief fights its way out of my chest.

“C’mere,” My dad says, and pulls me closer to him, a soothing arm around my back.

“I need to see him,” I choke out, “I need to know he’s not— “

“I know, I know, we got the job done here, we’re going home.”

——————

I don't remember the walk back out of the compound. It’s all vague reassurances and worrying eyes. I think my dad buckled the straps around me once we got to the quinjet. 

The flight back is somber, quiet, despite the fact that we succeeded. I feel the entire team’s eyes on me, but I don't look up. I’m too busy sitting curled on my seat, staring down at my hands.

There was so much blood. So much of his blood.

I spend the next few hours staring, not speaking, unable to stop the images from replaying in my head. My dad sits beside me, stroking my hair, muttering things I can’t hear.

I thought he was gone. All I can hear are the choked, wet sounds of the blood rising from his throat, all I can see is the stark image of dark red dripping down his pale cheek. Pain in his eyes. His chest refusing to move.

“Y/N,” I think it’s the fourth attempt someone makes to get my attention, and I look up to see my dad kneeling in front of me, “We’re almost back.”

“He’s at the landing pad?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

My dad takes my hand and says, “Yeah, I had Friday call him up.”

The next thing I’m aware of is the quinjet touching down, and I unbuckle the straps and stand up. My dad rests a reassuring hand on my back, and when the ramp lowers, he walks me forward. He can tell I’m still doubtful. He can tell a part of me still believes what I saw back in that room. 

But then we reach the ground and I see him.

Peter is standing back from the landing pad, accompanied by Pepper. He’s healthy, he’s standing on his own, he’s not bleeding, he’s not hurt, he hasn’t been shot, he’s okay.

He’s not dead.

I pick up the pace, walking out of reach of my dad, and once I’m close enough to see his eyes a sob fights its way up my throat and I throw my arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, shh, it’s alright,” his arms wrap firmly around my back, one hand landing in my hair and one stroking up and down my spine. His hair tickles my cheek, his shirt collar is bent out of shape — he never folds them right. He’s warm and strong and breathing and alive. I bury my face in his neck as another sob wracks through my body.

“What happened?” I hear him ask, confused, and his voice rumbles so low and soothing and I can feel it against my chest, hear it in his throat where my ear is pressed. I can’t stop my cries long enough to answer him but I realize the question wasn’t directed toward me.

“She’s not hurt,” my dad’s voice reassures him, “They messed with her head. She thought — she saw them hurt you—“

“I thought you were dead,” I croak out. My grip on him tightens and I let my hand trail to the curls at the base of his neck, let them twist around my fingers. My voice has risen an octave when I say, “You died, I saw you die.”

We sway for a moment, his hands still running down my back and through my hair, I don't think he knows what to say. I wouldn’t know, either. 

We stay there for a minute, and the rest of the team has walked inside to give us some space, I assume. 

After a while, when my sobs have quelled and I'm just quietly sniffling against him, I feel his hand on my cheek, pulling me back.

“Hey,” He whispers gently, wiping his thumb under my eye to clear away the tears there, “Good thing that wasn’t me then, right? I’m right here. And I’ve got proof— I was talking Dr. Banner’s ear off in the lab the entire time, he can vouch for me,” I let out a watery giggle at his antics, “You wanna go inside? Get you warm, patch you up?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, disentangling myself from him, but keeping an arm around his side as we walk into the building, “Sorry, I’d give you a hello kiss but I’m pretty sure there’s snot running down my face.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to the hair at my temple, “That’s okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

——————

After a brief period of time, I’ve showered, changed into pajamas, and am now sitting at the bathroom sink where my dad is bandaging the shallow cuts on my hands from the broken gauntlets. We sit in relative silence, and there’s no doubt from the look on my dad’s face that I appear just about as shell shocked as I feel. 

“Kiddo, you gonna be okay tonight?” He asks in a hushed voice. 

I don't look him in the eye, instead watching him work on my hands as I mumble out, “Probably not.”

He huffs with a bit of amusement, “Well, thanks for the honesty, I guess.”

He finishes up on my left hand and raises my chin to look him in the eye. I don't know what to say, so I let him speak first.

“Seriously, Y/N, that was heavy, what you went through. Don’t be afraid to ask any one of us for help, okay?” He looks me pointedly in the eye, already doubting I’ll take him up on that. I am his daughter, after all. 

“Yeah,” I whisper, “Got it.”

He stands with a sigh and puts the first aid kit back under my sink.

“Goodnight, come get me if you need me.” He presses a kiss to my head and leaves.

——————

Tony looks at the clock. 7a.m., three hours after they returned from the mission. 

“Friday? Has Y/N gotten any sleep yet?”

“No, sir. She spent a few hours in the kitchen with Mister Parker, but it appears as if they are both headed to their respective rooms now.”

“Alright. Alert me if she needs help, Fri.”

“Will do, sir. Goodnight.”

——————

“Sir, it appears as if Y/N is in distress.”

Tony wakes up to the alert just forty minutes after he’d laid down to sleep. He's quickly alert and shuffling out of bed, down the hall to his eldest daughter’s room. Although, when he turns the corner he sees Peter already at the door.

The teen looks up at him, “Hey, Mr. Stark. I— Friday told me she needed help. I was just gonna check in.”

“Me too,” Tony sighs, “You go ahead, Pete. It’s you she needs to see right now. Goodnight.”

The man turns to leave, but stops short of turning the corner. He says, tired, but playfully, “Door open, Parker.”

“Gotcha, Mr. Stark,” And the boy walks in to comfort his daughter.

Several hours later, after Tony’s gotten his meager version of a full-night’s sleep, and after a night he’s sure has held several nightmares for his daughter, he walks back past her door to make sure she’s okay.

He smiles warmly at the scene. Wrapped in Peter’s Midtown sweatshirt, his daughter sleeps, restless but quiet, leaning an arm over the boy she loves. He holds her secure, both their legs strewn about the covers, and Tony can't help but notice Y/N’s hand. Resting softly at the side of Peter’s neck, fingers in the hair behind his ear, and her thumb rests just over the boy’s pulse point. Thrumming gently in sleep, reassuring her — even in her unconscious state — that what she saw was fake. Peter is alive and well, sleeping soundly right beside her.

—————

Alrighty that’s it! Let me know how you liked it and thanks for reading!

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 10

Prompt: “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Read on AO3

Ghosts of the Past

"And med supplies?" Obi-Wan asks, glancing up from his datapad. "How are our bacta levels?"

"Good, sir," Cody nods.

"Yes, I suppose we've had a good streak going. Okay, now fuel levels?"

"Half tank."

"Weapons?"

"Forty units short, I believe."

Obi-Wan nods and types the order into the datapad.

"Alright, then the last things on the supply lists are..." he trails off as a strange feeling washes over him. He looks up, his eyes scanning the hanger. Troopers mill about in the usual bustle of days where there are no battles, just some administrative duties, and down-time. He can feel Cody staring at him, and is about to ignore the feeling when he spots a non-military ship on the other side of the hanger.

It's a modest ship, but it's not the vessel that is bothering him. Two mechanical troopers talk to a man standing next to the ship. From this distance, Obi-Wan can't quite see the man, but he can feel him.

In the Force, this person is familiar in a way that causes chills to run down his spine and the distant sound of bombs exploding to echo in his mind.

"Sir, is something wrong?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan's head snaps back to him. He points across the hanger to a ship and a small group of humans talking to the mechanic clones.

"Do we have visitors?"

"Uh, diplomats I believe. Requested to land for maintenance on their cooling system. Is there a problem?"

Obi-Wan doesn't answer him, just hands him the datapad with the supply orders and starts to walk in their direction. He doesn't know what he hopes to accomplish he just... has to find out.

He weaves through the various groups of troopers, only giving himself time to nod as they salute in his presence. The closer he gets to the man the better his view gets and the greater the buzzing in his stomach grows. Though Cody described him as a diplomat, he isn't dressed as so. He wears modest travel clothes and boots that are nearly as beat up as Obi-Wan's. The only true indication that he is some sort of political leader is the golden pin that secures his dark green cloak.

The man brushes his fingers through his short brown hair, pushing it off to the side, his dark eyes flickering up to meet Obi-Wan's.

And he stops dead in the center of the aisle, his entire body feeling numb and his throat tight. He must look like he's seen a ghost because a moment later he feels Cody's hand gently touching him at the elbow.

"General?" Cody sounds worried, which is enough to get Obi-Wan to tear his eyes away from the face of a man who might as well be a ghost. He doesn't know what to say to his commander, who is looking back and forth between him and their guest.

A guest that just handed his datapad to the mechanical clones and now approaches them.

Obi-Wan generally considers himself well prepared for most situations that may be thrown at him. War has taught him a lot about always being ready for a fight or a hasty retreat, and how to properly read a situation to decide which is appropriate.

But now, Obi-Wan is at a loss. All he can do is stand there as a piece of his past he never thought would be dug up again walks right up to him.

"I take it you're the Jedi General," he says in a thick Outer Rim accent. "I thank you for your hospitality in allowing us to get repairs."

"It is fortunate we were on your route, I suppose," he smiles weakly. "Where are you coming from?"

"Right, I haven't introduced myself, apologies," he bows respectfully. "I am Representative Nield of Melidaan."

Nield. Oh, Nield. No wonder the Force felt so familiar and so heavy. He hardly looks different than he did three decades ago-- just a bit older, but time has been kind to him.

"Melidaan?"

"Outer Rim. We've avoided this war so far so I'm surprised you haven't heard of us... though that's not an invitation."

"Of course not. I just..." It's obvious Nield doesn't recognize him, and a part of him is hesitant to reveal his identity. They did not exactly part on friendly terms, and Obi-Wan doesn't have the same face he did when he was thirteen. But there is a curiosity there he can't help. He wants to know what happened after he left the Young in their victory. "I hadn't realized the name was changed."

Nield blinks. "What did you say your name was, general?"

The moment of truth. "Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Now Representative Nield looks as though he's seen a ghost. His jaw literally drops, eyes growing wide. He reaches out, looking as though he is going to cup his cheeks before resting on his shoulders and Obi-Wan sees Cody flinch out of the corner of his eye.

"Obi-Wan?" Nield says, barely above a whisper. Suddenly it is like they are thirteen again, two of the oldest among a group of children fighting for peace. "How the hell did they drag you into another war?"

__________

Cody watched as the men embraced-- Nield, he called himself. A political leader from Melidaan. Cody has never heard of that planet, but General Kenobi appeared to be familiar with it. Somehow he is also familiar with this Nield despite looking uncharacteristically petrified by his presence. It made Cody nervous that maybe this would be some sort of old enemy that they mistakenly cleared, but now that he examines the men talking quietly to one another, he realizes they look at one another in the same way his brothers do.

How the hell did they drag you into another war?

He didn't know General Kenobi had been in another war-- in fact, nothing in his knowledge of recent Republic history indicates there were any other major wars fought unless he found himself in a small scale one. Though, General Kenobi is often talking about how foreign it is to be a soldier when Jedi training is to be a peacekeeper. He has given no indication that he has a history of being a veteran, but it would explain how he is so skilled with battle strategy.

Cody thinks about this as he heads to the mess to find a cup of caff. It's late in the evening, but new orders have come in that he has to prepare for.

Unsurprisingly, General Kenobi seems to have come to the same conclusion. Cody finds him pouring his own mug.

"We seem to always be on the move," the general says with a weak smile as Cody walks up next to him to grab his own mug.

"Did they mistake us for General Skywalker again?"  

He chuckles, moving out of the way so Cody can pour his own mug. "I believe Anakin and the 501st will also be joining us."

"Yes sir, I saw. Rex sent me a comm as soon as he found out."

"It's been a while since we've seen them, I'm sure the men will enjoy the reunion. Hopefully, we can get some more reprieve after as well."

They start walking back toward the briefing room, caff and a few ration bars in hand. Speaking of reunions...

"Was your visit with Representative Nield... enjoyable, sir?"

"I did not expect to see him again. The last time I saw him he was quite adamant about how much he hated me."

He looks at the Jedi with surprise. "I wouldn't have guessed, sir."

"We were young. Headstrong and passionate about what we believed in."

"You met him on Melidaan?"

"In a way," General Kenobi's pleasant disposition clouds. "Back then it was called Melida/Daan, though. I assume you heard him marvel at how I ended up in another war?"

Cody nods, suddenly feeling as though he is impeding on the privacy of General Kenobi's past. He opens his mouth to assure him he has nothing to explain and it is none of his business, but then the Jedi is talking.

"The Melida and the Daan were two groups on this planet stuck in a bloody civil war. They hated one another so vehemently they couldn't decide on a name for their planet, so the Republic eventually gave up and hyphenated. A Jedi was sent there to try and facilitate peace, but she was captured. Qui-Gon and I were sent to extract her."

General Kenobi stops outside the briefing room, leaning his back against the wall. "The Master was taken by a third group-- the children of the Melida and the Daan who were fed up with the fighting. They called themselves the Young. Nield was one of the Young, which is how we met."

"So the Jedi stayed to help?"

He tucks his arms into the billowing sleeves of his cloak, exhaling deeply "Not the Jedi, no. Qui-Gon had to get the injured Master back to the Temple, and we had no jurisdiction to fight their war. I was given a choice, and I felt my place was to help the Young."

There's a tightness to his words that doesn't go over Cody's head. His time in the war is obviously not something he has talked much about-- he's never even heard it referred to, and they are certainly in the context in which it would come up. Cody has learned General Kenobi isn't usually keen on talking about himself. He seldom mentions his master, and talks even less about his apprenticeship. He doesn't want to push the subject, but something is nagging at him...

"How old were you, sir?"

General Kenobi looks from the spot he fixated on behind Cody's shoulder to making eye contact. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and Cody has a horrible feeling about the answer.

"Thirteen," he mutters. Were the corridor not empty, he may not have heard it at all.

"Thirteen? They left a kid alone to fight a war?"

"I was one of the oldest among the Young, actually."

He says this as though that doesn't make things all the more horrifying. Cody feels bad enough when the shinies come through, barely ten standard years, but at least they have the bodies of grown men. But true kids? An army of children younger than Commander Tano?

"Pardon me for speaking freely, sir, but the Jedi allowed this? Your master let you stay in a war zone?"

"Well I..." he looks at Cody in a way he has never seen General Kenobi look before. There is this deep sadness behind his bright eyes that reminds him that he is not just a High General and a Jedi Master. "Cody, the choice I made was between going back with Qui-Gon, or leaving the Jedi Order."

Cody's throat goes dry. Suddenly his vague references to choices and the Jedi not being involved make sense, and dammit, he shouldn't have been so dense to make him spell it out. "I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"Cody," General Kenobi says with a kind smile that Cody doesn't feel he deserves. "You couldn't have known. To be honest, and I'm not proud of it, not even Anakin or Ahsoka know."

"Sir, then why tell me?"

He shrugs. "I trust you with my life, commander, why not with my teenage war stories, too."

Cody is relieved to see a glimpse of the usual dry-humored General Kenobi coming back through, but he still is at a loss of words from all of this.

"In all seriousness," General Kenobi continues, "I don't often think about my apprenticeship. Anakin has me to remind him about all his embarrassing moments, but I usually don't have to face my past like I did today," he pauses. "Can I ask your advice, Cody?"

"I'm not sure what help I could be, sir, but sure."

"Should I tell Anakin about Melida/Daan?"

Cody is certainly not qualified to give padawan parenting advice, but the general doesn't seem to care. He tries to consider if he has any relatable experiences in his short life, but clones were not raised with such individualized instruction. But he does remember nights spent with his batchmates, talking about anything and everything to pass the time. And when he sees Rex again they will try to find a time to sit down with glasses of brew, talking about every dumb plan Skywalker implemented and how it somehow worked out for the best and continuing their count of stupidly self-sacrificing things Kenobi does that threatens to give the entire 212th a heart attack.

He always considered the Jedi to be like little families-- families that train each other to be excellent warriors, but families nonetheless. In a way, the clones have adopted that familial mindset as well. With the galaxy unsure of what to do with them, they at least have one another to get through it all.

So maybe he does know a thing or two.

"It can't hurt, sir. It's probably something Skywalker would want to know about."

"Oh yes," the Jedi Master muses. "He was outraged when he found out about the time got to ride a varactyl for a royal a hunting party."

Cody raises an eyebrow. "Sir?"

He smiles, shaking his head. "A story for another time, Cody."

[thestraggletag]

Virtual Session, A Rumbelle Zoom Fic

Rating: Explicit.

Summary: Town meetings were usually drab, boring events, and having them over Zoom hadn't improved them much. Or so Mr Gold thought, until he forgot to log out of the meeting after it ended, only to discover a half-naked Belle French had also forgotten to do so.

SOMEONE PLEASE COMMENT WITH A BETTER SUMMARY I HATE IT.

Based on this prompt.

“We will review your presentation and hold a virtual vote before the month is up, Miss French. Thank you very much for your time.”

The mayor adjusted her suit jacket, her shirt riding up as she did so and unknowingly displaying the telltale white check of her Adidas yoga pants. Royce snickered, taking advantage of the fact he was muted.

“As there are no other pending topics on today’s agenda this virtual session is adjourned.”

He half-expected her to produce a gable out of thin air and bang it against her marble countertop. All around him people began to say their goodbyes and log out of Zoom, lest Regina decide to spring a surprise motion at the last minute. There was no need to flee, however, as Regina herself was one of the first to log off. Given the amount of smoke he had spotted coming from behind her right before she exited he did not need to guess what had caused her sudden departure.

“I guess no apple turnover for dessert at Madame Mayor’s.”

He heard an adorable chuckle and did not need to glance at the screen again to guess who it was. Very few people found his brand of dark humour palatable, but the librarian seemed to love it. It was nice, he soon found out, to have someone appreciate his often ill-received quips. It was one of the things he had first noticed about her. Well, other than her stunning eyes. And perhaps her hair, which was a lovely shade of reddish-brown. Her legs too, he acknowledged reluctantly, so nicely-displayed by her short skirts and high heels. And her-

He stopped himself. That way lay madness and he knew it. It was one thing to admire in an unattached way, from a distance. He was a connoisseur of beautiful things, after all, and Belle French was certainly beautiful. Unfortunately she also happened to have a lovely personality. Kind, generous, open, but also bold, defiant and the littlest bit dark. She flaunted the rules of smalltown society by wearing what the matrons around town considered “inappropriate clothing” for a librarian, and speaking to anyone and everyone, including those that polite society would urge her to shun. Drank beer with the miners, for example, men deemed “too coarse” for genteel women, and stocked the library with altogether undesirable books, be it because they dealt with unseemly issues or because they were from traditional authors. Which, he was sure, was code for “white men”, even if Mother Superior never quite spelled it out in such terms.

She was altogether dangerous for him, with her mix of light and dark, so he was always on his guard, lest his thoughts veer too far into dangerous territory. He didn’t fear scorn or derision if his feelings became too obvious for her to ignore. Belle was altogether too kind for that. But to be gently yet firmly rebuffed, and have their subsequent interactions laced by the barest hint of pity from her, would be unbearable. 

“I’m pretty sure that at least Mr Spencer didn’t hear a word I said. His camera was off during the whole of my presentation.” The librarian huffed, clearly bothered that her proposal to increase the library’s budget to repair the East Wing’s leaky ceiling wouldn’t get a fair shot. The wing was currently closed, and had been since she had taken the post of librarian, but with the newfound need of social-distancing, particularly in enclosed spaces, she hoped she could change that, make the town council see the need for more space in the library. “Though perhaps he didn’t want to be yelled at again for not being in a three-piece suit for a virtual town meeting.”

He briefly paused to remember Spencer’s red face when Regina had chastised him for wearing a white polo shirt instead of a shirt and tie during the last meeting.

“Kinda hypocritical of Madame Mayor, given she was a couple of clothing articles shy of a full tracksuit tonight.”

They shared a conspiratorial laugh, and he hoped the camera somehow toned down the stupid look on his face. He tried to avoid direct eye contact, looking instead mildly-interested in her living-room. Her laptop seemed to be perched somewhere on her dining-room table, giving him a great view of the rest of her flat, which was a loft, so it was open space, with exposed brick and tall ceilings. Though small it was tastefully-decorated, and with enough bookcases to make it seem like it was a part of the library he had never been to, if it weren’t for the kitchen area and the- and he told himself to stop looking at it- queen-size bed.

“Well, Miss French, at the risk of getting ahead of myself I can confidently state that things are looking good for your project. It was an excellent presentation and I could see Midas and Hopper were clearly in favour. That leaves the Mayor and Spencer outnumbered. Hell, I think even Regina will vote yes on this one. I know she’s keen on finding a place for students with connectivity issues to go do their homework and attend some classes. Fingers crossed the voting goes your way.”

He smiled at her, trying to look reassuring instead of besotted, and they exchanged their goodbyes. He closed his laptop, deciding that he needed a stiff drink first and a cold shower later, and went over to his wet bar, where after some debate he picked up a bottle of Ardberg and poured himself three fingers of Scotch, opting to forgo the ice and drink it straight. The alcohol burned pleasantly on its way down, making him loosen up almost immediately. He went over to the window, undoing the buttons of his vest and slipping it off as he did, feeling warmed by the whiskey. He chanced a glance outside, where the night remained crisp and clear, thankfully devoid of snow. It was still bitterly cold, though, and he hoped the library’s heating system, which was in need of maintenance as well, would not fail. The money for its maintenance had already been allocated and the budget for the work set, but perhaps he could email the person in charge of the job and… persuade them to make it a priority. The work should’ve already been done, but the pandemic had put a temporary stop on jobs like that with the exception of emergencies. Now that things were slowly returning to normal he was confident he could get the people working on the library by the end of the week with three sentences or less.

He went back to his laptop, determined to send the email as soon as possible. He opened it up and noticed, at first, that his camera light was still on. Almost as soon as his brain connected the dots and realised that he had forgotten to log off Zoom he noticed something else: so had Belle French. She was walking around her house, seemingly tidying things up and humming as she went along. It was a lovely, domestic little display, and though he knew he needed to log off fucking Zoom and stop intruding on what Miss French clearly thought was the privacy of her own home, he didn’t move the mouse. Surely there was no harm in indulging a bit. He was a lonely man, partly by design and partly by circumstance, and though he often told himself he wasn’t missing out on anything, he had to admit it was nice to- albeit accidentally- share an intimate moment with someone he had an affinity with. He imagined, for a moment, that instead of her living-room he was seeing her in his, picking up discarded books or perhaps the remnants of a tea they had shared together. He quickly shook himself out of that fantasy, alarm bells ringing in his mind, and refocused in the present, where Belle was taking off her cardigan. Well, surely, that meant the heating system was holding, which was a good thing. Which reminded him of his idea to write-

He glanced at the monitor again, where Belle French was now shimming out of her skirt.

He blinked, idiotically-confused for a second, as if the thought of a woman undressing was news for him. After the initial shock he took in all the details, fixsting on the black stripe on the back of her sheer black stockings, which she rolled down with painstaking care, the gesture almost painfully erotic. She started on the buttons of her sheer maroon shirt, undoing them with ease and shrugging out of the garment. The black camisole she wore underneath did nothing to conceal her lacy black culotte, which hugged her perfect ass like it was made for her. She went to unpin her hair next, letting the bobby pins that kept it off her sides of her face drop into a little ceramic bowl on her vanity. He was surprised at how much seeing her walk around her house with bare feet, shaking her hair out and stretching her limbs affected him. There was nothing inherently sensual about her movements, yet he was transfixed, unable to look away. Any hope of containing his attraction or attachment to the librarian vanished into thin air at that moment, leaving him equal parts scared and turned on.

It was then that his mostly-unused sense of decency decided to let itself be known, a wave of shame washing through him at the notion of what he was doing. Miss French had every right to her privacy, and here he was, violating it in the worst possible way. He should log out immediately and stay away from the librarian for a rather long time, enough for-

“Royce?”

His heart lurched painfully in his chest at the sound of her voice. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned his head towards the screen, telling himself that he deserved the scorn and disgust he was sure to see in the librarian’s face. But whatever hasty apologies and half-formed excuses he was about to blurt out died on his lips the moment he saw her: she was standing in profile, arms crossed in front of her chest and hands grasping the hem of her camisole, prepared to take it off, and her head was turned to the side, her eyes on her laptop screen. She didn’t look accusatory, or disgusted. She didn’t even look embarrassed. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone, but it looked more like… like... 

Arousal.

“I’m here, sweetheart.”

He could hardly recognise the low, growly burr as his voice. It sounded uncouth and harsh, like the way he used to speak back in Glasgow. He had worked for years on toning down his accent, letting only the barest hint of it show when he was trying to intimidate someone. Never enough to sound too much like he did back in his youth, and yet he hadn’t managed to quite rid himself of it. 

On screen Belle lifted the hem of her camisole a few inches, exposing supple, creamy skin. Royce tried hard not to swallow his own tongue. She bit her lip, suddenly hesitant, and fuck him if that sliver of vulnerability wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Is this… Is this okay?” 

It took him an embarrassingly-long time to understand that Belle fucking French was asking him if it was alright for her to strip in front of him, presumably for their mutual enjoyment. He reminded himself that he had had only one glass of Scotch, not enough to dismiss whatever was happening as a drunken daydream. Which he might have had, from time to time. About Belle. Maybe.

“It’s perfect, sweetheart.” 

Her lips curled into a coy smile, the growl in his voice making her shiver, and in one swift motion removed her camisole, revealing a lacy black bandeau bra with delicate details done in leavers lace. It matched her knickers, he noticed idly, and the black contrasted amazingly with her pale, softly-blushed skin. His keen eye noticed the exquisite craftsmanship right away. It was an expensive set, no doubt, and given how she was wearing during a commonplace day where she planned to stay home it led him to the conclusion that Belle French simply owned a lot of fancy lingerie, to the point that she wore it as an everyday sort of garment. He was very sure he would never again be able to look at her and not think about that.

“You’re gorgeous.”

In any other situation he would’ve been embarrassed to sound so… Reverent. So incredibly not in control of the situation. He might be fully-dressed, a man of means with a position of political power in their little hamlet and she might be a half-naked small-town librarian but he was absolutely powerless at the moment. And what was worse, he enjoyed it. 

“Thank you, Mr Gold.”

Though he loved the way she said “Gold”, with enough irreverence to turn her tone teasing, he desperately wanted her to say his name.

“Call me Royce, sweetheart.”

She walked over to the table, flipped the chair and sat down, draping her arms loosely around the backrest, the position loose and cocky. There was no doubt in her now, no hesitance. She had assumed control of the situation, for which he was grateful. She tilted her head to a side, sizing him up.

“You’re wearing a lot of clothes, Royce. I feel at a disadvantage.”

She smiled, looking supremely unconcerned, but there was a glint in her eyes he recognised quite easily. Greed. And not the kind he was used to seeing in people who frequented his shop to strike one of his infamous deals. It was different. It certainly felt different to him, hit him right beneath his gut in a way that felt both uncomfortable and pleasant. Without quite thinking his fingers went to the knot of his tie, already loosened, and tugged expertly, untying it in seconds. The silk made a soft, hissing sound as it slipped off his neck, which sounded loud in the otherwise dead silence of the room. Belle followed his movements avidly from the screen, and the look of utter absorption on her face gave him the surge of bravery he needed to tackle the buttons of his shirt till he could shimmy out of it. He was wearing a white undershirt beneath, but his arms and throat were bare, making him feel ridiculously exposed. 

“You have many layers. I like that about you.” Belle dropped her gaze, looking coy and vulnerable at the same time. “I like a lot of things about you.”

“Me too.” He tried to stop himself, but it was easier said than done. “Too many things, actually. But I’ve always understood that it would be foolish to expect anything to come of that.” He looked at Belle, draped over her chair and in her underwear. “Well, perhaps I was wrong.”

Belle smiled.

“You’re finally getting it. Good boy.”

He forced himself not to react visibly to those words, even though the moment he heard them it was like being struck by lightning. Thankfully the camera caught him from the waist up, hiding the embarrassing way his cock had perked up a second earlier. He could not hide his flushed face, however, or the way his eyes glazed over the slightest bit. 

“Tell you what. I’ll take off my bra if you lose the t-shirt. It’s a fair deal.”

It wasn’t. As far as he was concerned he was getting the far better end of the deal but he would never dream of telling her that. Tipping his hand was not his style. 

“Deal.”

He said it in the pleased, soft burr he usually reserved for his less savoury business arrangements, the kind that needed to be sealed in the cloak of night in some remote, deserted location. Belle shivered, and he enjoyed the thought that his voice made her react so. Feeling bold he grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it off,      baring himself from the waist up. He saw and felt the librarian’s eyes roam over his torso. It wasn’t a pretty sight. He had scars from his dodgy upbringing in Glasgow, and some from his learning days restoring antiques. He was fond of the sun so at least he was not pasty white, or overly hairy, but he didn’t have much in the way of muscles. Belle, however, seemed to appreciate his more lean physique, if the heat of her gaze was any indication. After she seemed to have her fill of staring she leaned back and deftly unhooked her bra, letting the straps slide down her arms till the garment was on the floor. 

He stared. Couldn’t help himself really. Belle French’s tits were perfect. Fucking perfect. Just the right size, incredibly soft-looking and with the loveliest nipples he had ever seen, a rosy-pink that he would never be able to get out of his head. The kind of breasts that would ruin a man for other women. He certainly felt like no other breasts could ever tempt him again. 

“Royce, are you okay?”

Her voice sounded a delightful mix of amused and slightly worried, so he forced himself to nod, still unable to look away.

“Fucking perfect.”

Fuck, was that his voice? He sounded… dazed. He fought the instinct to slap some sense into himself. Belle draped herself across the back of the chair again, and though the position hid her breasts somewhat it didn’t do so completely. 

“I love how soft you are. Underneath the hardass pawnbroker exterior, I mean. Soft, and kind and funny. So funny. It’s one of your most attractive qualities.”

Most people wouldn’t think so. His brand of humour was dark, sometimes too much. And yet Belle always laughed, always caught on to his quips and seemed to appreciate them in a consporatory way. She could also dish it out, but in a far more subtle way that he was sure most people didn’t catch on to. Softly-spoken sarcasm delivered in a lilting accent. 

What was not to love?

He told her so. Unburdened himself completely, caught up in his own physical vulnerability and hers. It felt safe to tell her of his feelings, of how days where he knew he would see her were brighter, and how he liked when they shared a smile or exchanged a comment on a book. How his heart fluttered when he watched her read to the children, and how another part of his anatomy altogether reacted when she strutted around town with her short skirts and devil-may-care attitude. Liked how she thumbed her nose at the pearl-clutchers in town, doing things her way. Completely unsuited for boring, conventional small-town life, and yet wholly at home in Storybrooke, to the point where he could not imagine the town without her.

He shut up after that, noticing how she seemed to have changed, her mood going from loose and flirty to… anxious? No, that wasn’t the right word. Unsettled, perhaps.

“I can’t do this.” The sudden sentence felt like a slap in the face, but the moment his face dropped she seemed to backpedal. “No, no, not like that! I mean… I wanna touch you. I want to be in the same room. With even less clothes on. This… It suddenly doesn’t feel like enough.”

She was fucking right, he realised. He felt itchy all of a sudden. Unfulfilled. Empty.

“Come over.”

“What?”

Belle seemed genuinely surprised, but the way her skin flushed and her eyes got big let him know she was very open to the idea.

“Come the fuck over. It’s fucking cold anyway and the heating system at the library is shite at the moment. Come over and I’ll keep you warm, sweetheart.”

He was rather impressed with his blunt bit of bravery, born out of a consuming need more than anything, and even more impressed when it looked like it worked. Belle scrambled out of the chair, throwing a lovely little nightie on before getting her coat and scarf. 

“Be there in a few. See you!”

She disconnected before he could tell her to bundle up. It was fucking freezing outside and that nightie and her stockings and shoes would do nothing against the cold, coat or no coat. A moment later he realised he was sitting down in his pants, socks and shoes and nothing else while Belle fucking French was coming over to... 

Fuck.

He scrambled up, fishing for his cane in a hurry and having just enough presence of mind to disconnect from Zoom. He went upstairs to his room, deciding that it would be awkward for him to still be wearing pants. And socks. And shoes. So he chucked all that off, throwing a dressing gown over his boxers, pausing to put on his house slippers, glad beyond words he had recently bought new ones. After that he went downstairs to the kitchen and popped a bottle of champagne, looking into his pantry for the box of chocolate truffles from Kreuther, a treat he had gotten himself after visiting a state sale in Midtown Manhattan a week ago. He arranged the impromptu offerings on the dining room table, and when the bell rang he told himself he was ready. He opened the door, finding a rosy-cheeked and clearly shivering Belle on the other side, hair windswept, as if she had run there. Taking into account her heels it was rather impressive.

Belatedly he thought about the scene she had walked into. He in his dressing gown, with champagne flutes and truffles on the table and a fire roaring in the living-room, a scenario ripe for debauching. But perhaps she wished to talk more, to explore their emotional intimacy. Perhaps the trek there had killed her ardour and all she wanted and needed was to get warm and comfortable. He didn’t want to come off as… expecting anything.

Belle, however, seemed to not share his concerns. She took one look at him, one look at the softly-lit space behind him and the food laid out and smiled.

“You brilliant, wonderful man.”

A second late she was in his arms. Cold, but soft and smelling of orange blossoms and frost. She tilted her head up, slanting her lips across before he could blink and it was… wonderful. The coolness of her lips contrasted with the searing heat of her mouth, making for a rather delicious contrast of sensations. He used the hand not clutching his cane for dear life to find the buttons of her coat, undoing them one by one with barely-contained impatience. Finally he had the coat opened and could snake his arm around her waist. The silk of her small camisole was soft to the touch, and let him feel the warmth of her skin beneath.

He needed to feel more. Now that she was safe in the warmth of his house she didn’t need her coat or scarves and went about the business of removing both without separating himself from her. It took a lot of tugging and pulling and a couple of missteps that landed her up against the wall, to his utter delight, but she was finally rid of both. Her skin, despite the toasty temperature inside the house, was still chilly from the outside.

“Come close to the fire, sweetheart.”

They managed to stumble across the hallway and into the living room, where they seemed to come to the mutual conclusion that remaining standing was not conducive to their current situation. The rug near the fireplace, thankfully, was thick and soft, and the couple of throw blankets he quickly spread over it made it more so. Once he was satisfied she would be comfortable he let her tackle him to the ground, enjoying having her above him. She was small, especially once she wrestled her heeled boots off. A tiny slip of a woman, shorter than him even, but there was a presence to her, a strength, that he couldn't help but surrender to. Beautiful, terrifying Belle.

“I’ve dreamed of this.” Her voice was low, husky. “You weren’t wearing a dressing gown in my dreams, though.”

“And you weren’t wearing anything in mine.” His accent was so thick he feared she might not be able to understand me. “Tit for tat, dearie.”

She ground herself against him, causing him to hiss and arc. Enough pressure to elicit a response, but not nearly enough to satisfy him.

“Don’t call me that. That’s how you call everyone else, and I’m not everyone else, am I?”

Her confidence slipped for a second, exposing a hint of uncertainty that he was quick to dispel.

“No, sweetheart. Of course not.”

He untied the belt of his dressing gown, managing to slip it off while still pinned by Belle. He didn’t imagine it was a very sexy spectacle but she seemed to appreciate it nevertheless. To reward him she yanked her nightie off, revealing her glorious breasts once again to his hungry stare. She was absolutely perfect, made even better by the way the fire lit her skin and hair, and turned her eyes a deeper blue. She looked fierce yet soft, a magnanimous mistress looking down fondly at a favoured pet. Idly she traced a scar near his right shoulder with the tip of her index finger, frowning the slightest bit.

“I want to know the story behind this. I want to know… more. About you. All there is to know that you wish to tell me.”

“Yes.” Usually he’d balk at the idea of such intimacy, of being so bare. Yet it felt like something he could do with Belle, something he wanted to do. “Yes, of course, sweetheart. And I want to know everything about you.”

She smiled, the gesture slowly turning sultry as she crossed her elbows over his chest.

“We’ll talk… later.”

She kissed him then, slowly and thoroughly, sinking one hand into his hair so she could tilt his head just so. Her fingernails felt delicious against the sensitive skin of his scalp and were a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable pressure of her ass against his groin. He wanted to last, desperately, but she was every wet dream he’d ever had come true. He needed to redirect his attention to anywhere but his aching cock. So he forced himself to focus on anything else. The soft, silky feeling of her skin against the rough pads of his fingers, and the taste of her, faintly sweet. She kissed like it was an art, managing to somehow find every spot that made him want to rip her panties off and just bury himself in her, foreplay be damned.

He startled when he felt her hands trail down his body and grasp the elastic of his underwear, tugging on it to hint at what she wanted. He obliged her before he could talk himself out of it, raising his hips so she could slide the boxers off his legs while still kissing. He felt her touch his mangled ankle and forced himself not to flinch or pull back. Blessedly she seemed to notice his discomfort, tugging his boxers off completely and reaching out to place his hands on the sides of her hips, against the scratchy fabric of her underwear. The message was clear, especially when she propped herself against the floor with her hands so she could raise her hips. He gently tugged her pantied down, with slow, careful movements to avoid accidentally ripping the delicate lace and not simply to watch in aroused amusement as Belle fidgeted above him. 

“Patience, sweetheart.”

She whined, kicking her panties off when they reached her ankles and pushing him back a second later, her expression demanding.

“No more delays. We’ve had months of foreplay.”

He found himself agreeing with her. It certainly felt like they had been teasing each other for months, with the shared jokes, the furtive glances, bitten lips and coy smiles. Not that he had even dared dream of it before that night. Belle was too good in every way for a bitter old cripple like himself. Her hands on his cock chased his self-deprecation away, leaving his mind in a blissful state of blankness. Slowly, torturously so, she took him in, her hot, wet cunt enveloping him with the right amount of pressure. It was almost too good a feeling, leaving his nerve-endings too excited to register much else. She was fucking perfect, the feel of her the weight of her above him. Like she was made for him, only he wasn’t that lucky. 

He needed to somehow make it up to her, make it so good she would not regret it. So he focused on establishing a rhythm, steady enough to build up their pleasure, but not too perfect to make it boring. He concentrated on the sounds she made, the perfect little gasps and the occasional, shivery whine that let him know she was enjoying herself. Soon enough, however, coordination and any form of higher thinking went out the window, the pleasure getting to be too much to focus on anything else other than driving himself as deep into her as he possibly could. He had enough presence of mind to sneak a hand between their bodies, slipping it across her wet fold to stimulate her further, determined not to come before she did. When he finally felt it, the blissful fluttering of her inner walls accompanied by a triumphant cry, he let go of his last shreds of self-control, letting his body seek out its needed release, the feeling travelling up his spine and leaving his whole body boneless with satisfaction. 

He grunted when she practically fell on top of him, though he welcomed the reassuring weight of her and the heat from her body. He thought about the champagne and the truffles waiting for them on the dining room table and decided they could wait. As soon as he was able to move he would wrap his dressing gown around Belle and take her and the food and drinks to the bedroom, where they could recoup their energy and talk. And perhaps much later, if he was good, Belle would let him drink champagne from her navel. 

Thank Regina and her fucking Zoom twon halls. He would never complain about them again.

[grimoire-of-seven]

Could I request the demon brothers reactions to MC falling asleep on them and then getting really cuddly in her sleep and nuzling up close to him

PROMPT :: “Hold me close, and hold me tight.”

Rating: SFW

Words: 300-450 per character

Characters: Demon brothers + MC / Gender-Neutral Reader

 Notes: This was so fluffy and I thoroughly enjoyed writing this! I had to scrap some ideas because it ended up with most of the demon brothers bringing MC to bed [the most comfortable cuddle place, tbh]. I had to make adjustments so I hope you like it! Thank you for requesting~

LUCIFER

It was an odd request, Lucifer wouldn’t deny. Well… ‘odd’ is quite harsh.

Perhaps, just bizarre?

You had summoned him to the planetarium, with the order of bringing his comforter and pillow. Being in a pact with you, the Avatar of Pride couldn’t do anything but oblige to the peculiar instruction.

That was a few moments earlier.

Now, he’s lying down beside you, all snuggled up in each other’s arms – all alone in the planetarium. 

He chuckled at this little idea of a ‘dinner date,’ [the pizza has long been forgotten] “If you wanted to sleep, we could’ve very well done that in my room, no?”

“Hmm,” You agreed sleepily, cuddling closer and wrapping him in a tighter embrace, “Luke said there’ll be… there’ll be meteor showers seen… seen from Devildom tonight.”

Admittedly hating the fact that you’ve named another man while you’re in his presence, Lucifer couldn’t help but silently thank the little chihua– angel.

You wouldn’t have this lovely idea if not for the do—angel’s words, anyway.

“You can sleep, dear.” He said in an affectionate tone. Lucifer moved your fringe to the side, giving your forehead a gentle kiss, “You look awfully tired today…”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, he was sure of himself that you had dozed off. 

“Sleep well–”

“Hhhnoooo…” You protested, suddenly barely awake once again. With a smile on your lips, you beamed at the obsidian-haired demon with as much energy as you can, “I wanted to see them with you.”

MAMMON

To hell with Lucifer and his stupid rules.

The white-haired demon spun his pen on his hand in irritation at the list of figures before him. 

He can’t memorize it all by dawn! It’s absolutely impossible!

“This is so damn frustrating!” Mammon complained; he crumpled up the paper you had prepared for him for his History of Devildom and its Nine Circles exam tomorrow.

Mammon felt you stir beside him. You have fallen asleep by his side, one arm draped around him in a loose embrace. 

Both of you were situated by the sofa, a place he deemed where he’s most comfortable to ‘study’ - second only to his bed but you refused to sit there in case he falls asleep on you.

Your peaceful face alone was enough to calm him down from his frustration.

Staring at you for a while, the Avatar of Greed noticed the bags under your eyes, your face visibly tired… Was it because you’ve been up last night trying to make a comprehensive reviewer for him?

At the realization, he feels bad for having to complain when you’ve put so much effort to help.

You were too good to a lazy scumbag like him. His brothers had been telling you to stop hanging around him so you avoid getting ‘infected’ by his scummy-ness.

Yet you still never gave up on him.

Lazily opening the crumpled paper from his hands, he adjusted his position in a more comfortable state for your sleeping form.

He smiled in defeat, kissing the crown of your head with deep fondness, “Alright, I’ll study well… But only because you’re rewarding the Great Mammon too much.”

LEVIATHAN

The night is still young, as Levi announced in the group chat. He had invited the whole House of Lamentation for a late night TSL movie marathon as preparation for the upcoming Vol.9 of the series.

You had asked Mammon and Beel to join you but both excused themselves from today’s screening. Mammon was off being called by his witch friends, and Beel… decided he would come if Levi will provide food.

Levi did not provide food.

“Cause distraction, eating will!” He explained as you and Beel presented yourselves infront of the purple-haired demon’s room. The Avatar of Gluttony left you alone with a sad and hungry expression.

Being the only person to show up for the marathon, Levi saw fit to treat you like the not-normie you are. The two of you sat close together on the floor like ‘true friends’ would.

With his eyes focused on the screen, Levi didn’t notice you nodding off to the movie.

The only time he had realized was when you had draped your arm around him, cuddling close as if to feel more of his warmth.

He couldn’t believe it. It was like both of you are in a shoujo anime.

Like, one of those anime plot where it’s a normal school story where both of you are forced to live together but his brothers were in the way of your love story then he casually asked you for a movie marathon and you two ended up cuddling and then you both fall in love with each other and then Ruri-chan is suddenly alive after hearing that you’re taking Levi away from her and now it’s an action adventure story where the two of you flee from a raging ex-girlfriend in the magical realm of Devildom–

It was safe to assume that Levi could not get himself to focus on the movie marathon with you moving occasionally to embrace him even closer.

SATAN

For the numerous millenia that he has lived under Lucifer’s shadow, Satan was surprised that you’ve taken a liking to him rather than his ‘glorious’ older brother. Of course, he wasn’t going to allow himself to delve too deep in a relationship with you. 

A few dates here and there, indulging in the knowledge coming from a mortal perspective… You were human. He’s a demon. It was a relationship with a gap that is far too distant to cross. 

And he intended to keep it that way. 

Today was a book date. Out of all of your dates, this one was the one Satan was looking most forward to. The blonde loved books and the information that came from it. He had invited you to his humble little nook, his own make-shift library inside his room. 

“It’s not much compared to Lucifer’s library…”

The Avatar of Wrath knew humans were, to a fault, most curious of things unknown to them. You were no different.

“What? Are you kidding? This is amazing!” The way your eyes lit up at the sight of his room, despite seeing it for the second time already, made the butterflies in his stomach flutter. 

You’re not being fair here, you know…

You both settled by the indoor balcony of his room, given that there was no space on his bed, on the floor, and even on the sofa. Everything was riddled with his limitless books, after all.

The two of you discussed everything and anything that intrigued you inside the tomes that were laid out. From astronomy books to history books to anything related to angels, humans and demons. 

The day passed by within a blink of an eye. Satan was happily telling you about how the stars and planets aligned in the year–

He felt your head drop on his shoulder. What?

As if your head wasn’t enough, you had made yourself comfortable beside him, hands embracing him as if he’s a comfortable pillow.

“…” He sighed with a small smile in his visage, closing the book and letting you sleep on his shoulders.

What would he do with you?

ASMODEUS

The Avatar of Lust upholds his beauty to such a high standard. He is a demon of high-class charm, and with such charm comes with great maintenance to his appearance. 

For thousands of years, Asmodeus revels in the enjoyment of seeing his beauty. However, now that he has you, a trip to the spa, or going out shopping, or having his nails manicured, or doing his skincare routine become twice as much enjoyable with you around.

Today was no exception. 

The peach-haired demon barged to your room unannounced with sparkling wide eyes, explaining to you that Majolish is presenting a new line of high-end clothing and shoes today… and that he has to have it. 

Like, right now. 

With a smile that made his heart flutter with a million passionate emotions, you agreed to accompany him. 

Upon your arrival to the monumental department store, the Avatar of Lust was met with a hundred new options to try for himself and your person. You refused to accept anything super expensive but was immediately met with a begging Asmodeus, unable to accept your rejection.

At the end of the day, both of you were at the bus with several dozens of paper bags and boxes on hand. He was completely satisfied, eager to see you wear the beautiful clothes he has chosen. 

The ride was comfortably silent with only a few passengers on the vehicle. Asmo was checking your pictures with a smile. Everything really that caught your eye and deemed comfortable looked amazing on you! 

“Hey, love, which was your favourite–” You shuffled beside him, taking his arm as you cuddled closer to him from your seat.

It took Asmodeus all of his strength and willpower as the Avatar of Lust to not squeal in delight at the sudden movement, his heart jumping at the sight of your peaceful sleeping expression. He was ten billion percent ready to smother you with kisses but fought himself off the moment he thought of it. 

Asleep means you do not consent to kissing or anything else he wanted to do! For now, Asmodeus told himself that a picture would suffice to capture this blissful moment. 

You’re not gonna sleep much later after this, though - not after showing such a rare sight.

BEELZEBUB

Surprisingly enough, RAD’s roof deck was a wonderful place for students to eat their lunch. It was like one of those school scenarios on Levi’s anime. 

For Beelzebub, he loved eating there with you or any one of his brothers. The view was spectacular, showcasing the dim sun that shone over Devildom. 

As of now, it was only you and him. 

The others were busy with their prior schedules and exams. As you were a human exchange student, Diavolo was expecting much of you; hence, your motivation to study well. 

Beel noticed bags under your eyes, your focus on the exam reviewer was lazer sharp even from the exhaustion. 

“You’re going to ace the exams,” The Avatar of Gluttony started, eating his packed lunch contentedly with you beside him.

“Thank you, Beel. I’m sure you’ll do great on yours, too!” You replied, yawning as the fatigue sets in slowly.

“You can sleep on my shoulder for a moment.” He offered, ruffling your hair affectionately, “I’ll wake you up fifteen minutes before the bell rings so you can review more.”

To his surprise and delight, you gave in to the tiredness. 

He’s really worried about you, not sleeping well like that. Beel heard that humans need eight hours of sleep to be healthy, but you don’t do that much. 

If you keep that up, what would happen to your fragile mortal body? 

Before he could continue his thoughts, you snuggled closer to him, making yourself more cozy in your sitting position. He ruffled your hair once again, adjusting himself so you can sleep better. 

Belphie would’ve loved to join you in this hug. 

For a moment, all his worries disappeared. You’re a very strong human, the strongest he’s ever met - both in soul and willpower. There’s no storm you wouldn’t conquer.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie wanted to take you out on a date to Ristorante Six. 

That was all there is to it.

He needed money so, now, you and Belphie are working part-time in Hell’s Kitchen once again. As a rule, the two of you decided that whenever you go out for dates, the bill should be split in half. 

The ravenet refused it at first but then agreed, remembering that both of you would’ve had to work first before actually getting the money to go out. 

And working together meant more time together.

It was a perfect opportunity to be with each other’s presence more!

After a long day from school, then going straight to waiting tables at Hell’s Kitchen, the Avatar of Sloth noticed that you seemed more tired than usual today. 

Was it from the school? From working at Hell’s Kitchen? From the walk home? Or perhaps your human body isn’t accustomed to such heavy workload?

He held your hand and led you to his shared room with Beel. Beel wasn’t in the room when you two arrived, much to Belphie’s relief.

“Do you have anything to show me, Belphie?” You asked innocently, trying your best to stay awake despite the weariness on your voice.

Belphie sat on his bed comfortably and pulled you in, letting you settle on his lap. 

“W-Wh–!” 

He smiled at your reaction, opening his arms for a hug, “If you’re tired, I’ll let you sleep in my arms.” 

“You had me worried, Belphie!” With an amused laugh, you cuddled close to him, making yourself comfortable in his warm embrace. 

In mere minutes, you had fallen asleep, his hands were gently caressing your hair, “Only for you…”