starrilybel

[starrilybel]

This is amazing 😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“Graveyard Hearts” - Enoch O’Connor x reader

Summary: You cling to Enoch like he’s the only steady thing in a world that feels too much. He doesn’t understand at first. Then, he doesn’t mind. And then, he realizes—he needs you too.

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Enoch O’Connor isn’t used to being needed—at least, not in the way you need him.

People rely on him, sure. His peculiarity is useful, after all, and Miss Peregrine has a way of making everyone in her home feel like they have a purpose. But needing something and wanting something are two very different things. The others tolerate him, respect him when they have to, but they don’t seek him out for comfort. They don’t linger near him for the sake of being close. They don’t look at him the way you do.

You’re peculiar in more ways than one. Your power—strong, dangerous, barely contained—could shape the world around you if you let it. Miss Peregrine speaks of it with a quiet sort of reverence, a reminder of just how rare your abilities are. Even Enoch, for all his indifference, recognizes that you could probably do more damage than any of them if you wanted to.

And yet, you’re soft.

Painfully shy, always hesitant, always watching. It takes weeks before you speak to him at all, your presence like a shadow at the edges of his vision. You never interrupt his work, never intrude, but you’re there. A silent, nervous little thing, hovering just close enough that he can feel the weight of your attention even when he doesn’t look at you.

At first, he ignores it. He’s used to being avoided, but he doesn’t know what to do with someone who lingers. Someone who seems to prefer his presence despite the fact that he makes no effort to be likable. It’s unsettling.

But then, one afternoon, you finally work up the courage to say something.

“Can I… stay here?”

Your voice is quiet, uncertain, like you expect him to refuse. Like you think you’re being a bother.

Enoch doesn’t look up from his work. The squirrel on his table twitches, limbs jerking in an unnatural way as the heart he placed inside it does its job. He frowns, making a small adjustment before answering.

“Ain’t like I can stop you.”

You don’t brighten exactly—he doubts you ever really do—but there’s something relieved about the way you settle beside him, closer than you’ve ever dared before. He expects you to ask him something about his work, to question the mechanics of his peculiarity like the others always do. But you don’t.

Instead, you reach out, hesitating just for a second before curling your fingers into the fabric of his sleeve. Not enough to pull, not enough to demand his attention—just enough to feel it beneath your hand. Just enough to ground yourself.

Enoch stills.

“Oi,” he mutters, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “What do you think you’re doin’?”

You tense, shrinking slightly, but you don’t let go. Your fingers tighten, gripping just a little firmer, as if you’re bracing for rejection. “Sorry,” you whisper. “I just… I don’t like being alone.”

The words make something twist uncomfortably in his chest. He doesn’t like them. Doesn’t like the way they sound coming from you, all quiet and vulnerable, like you’ve spent too much time convincing yourself you shouldn’t ask for things.

He should shake you off. Make a sarcastic remark. Tell you to bother someone else.

Instead, he exhales through his nose, turning back to his work with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “You’re real clingy, you know that?”

You don’t let go. “I know.”

The worst part? He doesn’t mind.

—

It becomes a habit after that.

You never push. Never demand. But you’re always there. Always seeking him out when the house gets too loud, too crowded, too much. You hover near his table while he works, quiet and content to simply exist in the same space. Sometimes, when the others are too preoccupied to notice, you sit close enough that your arm brushes against his. And on rare occasions, when exhaustion weighs too heavy on your frame, you tuck yourself into his side, resting your head against his shoulder like you trust him not to push you away.

He never does.

—

The attack comes suddenly.

One second, the children are enjoying the rare warmth of a sunny afternoon, sprawled across the grass or playing near the cliffs. The next, the air is thick with shadow. Hollows.

Miss Peregrine shouts, the loop shifting around them as time bends to her will. The others move into position, each of them falling into the roles they’ve rehearsed, using their peculiarities to fend off the creatures. Olive floats higher, dodging a swipe from an inky black tentacle. Hugh releases a swarm of bees. Enoch yanks at his pocket, fishing out a prepared heart and slamming it into the chest of a waiting corpse, forcing it to rise in defense.

But it’s not enough.

There are too many of them. And one—larger than the rest, more monstrous, more intelligent—zeroes in on the group with terrifying speed.

Someone is going to die.

And then everything stops.

A pulse of raw, crackling energy fills the air, heavy enough to steal the breath from their lungs. The Hollow stiffens, limbs locking, body jerking as if caught in invisible chains. A slow, awful sound spills from its throat, something between a hiss and a groan, as if it knows it’s already lost.

Enoch turns his head, heart hammering.

You stand at the center of it all.

Your eyes burn with unnatural light, your hands raised, fingers twitching as if you’re plucking invisible threads. The Hollow writhes, desperate to escape, but it can’t. You tighten your grip, and the air vibrates with sheer force before, all at once, the creature collapses. Dead.

Silence.

The other children stare at you, wide-eyed, breathless. Miss Peregrine herself looks almost impressed.

But you don’t acknowledge any of them.

Instead, you lower your hands, take a shuddering breath—then turn on your heel and beeline straight for Enoch. Without hesitation, without thought, you clutch onto his sleeve with trembling fingers, pressing yourself into his side as if he’s the only solid thing left in the world.

For a long moment, no one speaks.

“You are full of surprises, my dear,” Miss Peregrine finally says, voice calm but laced with curiosity.

You don’t respond. You just tighten your grip on Enoch’s coat, hiding your face against his shoulder.

And Enoch, for all his usual cynicism, doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t push you away. Doesn’t roll his eyes.

Instead, with slow, deliberate movements, he shifts his arm just enough that you’re more comfortable against him. Then, in a voice quieter than usual, he mutters, “Told you you were clingy.”

You don’t let go.

He doesn’t ask you

—

The moment passes, but something shifts after that day.

You’ve always gravitated toward Enoch, but now it’s different. Before, you lingered near him like a quiet shadow, clinging to his sleeve when you needed comfort but always hesitant, always holding back. Now, your touch is more certain. Subtle, but constant.

It starts with your hand brushing his as you sit beside him, barely noticeable, a light, fleeting thing. The first time it happens, Enoch twitches slightly but doesn’t move away. You take it as permission.

The next time, your fingers linger just a little longer.

The next, your pinky curls lightly around his.

And then, one afternoon, you simply take his hand.

No hesitation, no pretense. Just quiet acceptance, your small fingers wrapping around his calloused ones as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Enoch stiffens, glancing down at where your hands are now entwined. His first instinct is to scoff, to mutter something about how ridiculous you are, how ridiculously clingy. But when he looks up, when he sees the way your shoulders have finally relaxed, the way your whole body seems at ease just from the simple contact, something in his chest goes tight.

He sighs through his nose, feigning exasperation, but his fingers curl around yours anyway.

—

It doesn’t stop there.

You don’t always hold his hand, but it happens often enough that the others start to notice. Emma raises an eyebrow the first time she catches it, a smirk tugging at her lips, but she doesn’t say anything. Bronwyn teases him about it once—some comment about how grumpy old Enoch has a soft spot after all—but Enoch just scowls and mutters, “Shut it.”

If Miss Peregrine notices, she doesn’t mention it.

The others might think it’s funny, but for you, it’s necessity. It’s not just about wanting to be close—it’s about needing something to ground you. Your peculiarity is overwhelming at times, a heavy thing that thrums beneath your skin, waiting for an outlet. You’ve spent years afraid of your own power, of what you might do if you let yourself feel too much.

But Enoch… Enoch never fears you.

Not after that day in the graveyard. Not after he’s seen what you can do.

He never flinches when you reach for him, never hesitates to let you hold onto him when the weight of your own power threatens to consume you. He’s solid, steady, unwavering.

And for someone who’s spent so long being afraid of their own strength, that means everything.

—

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, you sit beside him in the garden. The others are still inside, finishing dinner, but you and Enoch slipped away early, drawn to the quiet. Fireflies flicker in the air, casting soft golden light against the darkening sky.

You reach for his hand without thinking, fingers slotting between his as naturally as breathing.

Enoch exhales, shaking his head like he’s annoyed, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he gives your hand the smallest squeeze, his thumb ghosting over your knuckles in a way that feels almost affectionate.

The warmth of it spreads through you, slow and steady, anchoring you in the moment.

“You’re really not gonna stop doin’ this, are you?” he mutters, voice low.

You shake your head, a tiny smile playing at your lips. “No.”

A beat of silence.

Then—“Didn’t think so.”

And though he grumbles, though he acts like he barely tolerates it, Enoch never lets go.

—

The arrival of Jacob Portman changes things.

Not for you—not really. You’ve spent too long building this quiet existence with Enoch, spent too long learning how to navigate your peculiarity without drawing attention to yourself. Jacob’s presence doesn’t undo that.

But it does make Enoch act strange.

It starts the moment Jacob arrives, confused and out of place, stumbling his way through introductions like he doesn’t quite believe any of this is real. You don’t mind him, but you also don’t go out of your way to interact with him. Instead, you do what you always do—stick close to Enoch, fingers curled loosely around his sleeve as if you might disappear without the contact.

And Jacob notices.

You feel his eyes linger on you longer than necessary, watching the way you gravitate toward Enoch with an expression you can’t quite place. Confusion? Curiosity? Something else? You don’t know. But Enoch sees it too.

“Oi,” Enoch mutters one afternoon, barely looking up from the heart he’s placing into one of his creations. “What’s your problem, Portman? You got somethin’ to say, or you just like starin’?”

Jacob startles, blinking as if caught in something he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. “What? No—I just—” He glances at you again, then back at Enoch, brow furrowing. “I just didn’t expect this from you.”

“This?” Enoch echoes, unimpressed.

Jacob gestures vaguely. “You know, this. The whole—” He waves a hand between the two of you, his meaning clear. “Didn’t take you for the type.”

“Type for what?” Enoch snaps.

Jacob hesitates. “Affectionate.”

Enoch scowls, opening his mouth for what is sure to be a very sarcastic remark, but before he can say anything, your fingers tighten around his sleeve. Just slightly. Just enough to pull his focus.

He exhales sharply, turns to you instead. “You believe this guy?”

You don’t respond, just press a little closer, your quiet way of reminding him that none of this really matters. Jacob can think whatever he wants. It won’t change anything.

Enoch clicks his tongue, muttering something under his breath before shooting Jacob a glare. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t go ‘round explainin’ myself to people I barely know. So keep your questions to yourself, yeah?”

Jacob holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Just… wasn’t expecting it.”

Enoch scoffs. “Yeah, well. Surprise.”

Jacob doesn’t ask again.

—

The night the Hollow attacks, everything unravels.

The loop collapses. The safety of your home—of your family—is ripped away in the span of moments. One second, everything is normal. The next, there’s chaos.

Miss Peregrine orders an evacuation, but not everyone is fast enough. The Hollow comes out of nowhere, moving with terrifying speed, too quick for anyone to react. It lunges, tentacles spreading wide—

And then it stops.

Suspended in midair, trapped in an unseen force, the Hollow writhes. It’s caught in the grip of something stronger than itself, something it can’t escape. And at the center of it all—

Is you.

You stand rigid, eyes alight with raw power, hands trembling with the weight of what you’re holding. The others stare in shock, frozen in place, but you don’t pay them any mind. Your focus is locked onto the creature, on the way it struggles, desperate but helpless beneath your control.

It screeches—once, twice—before your fingers tighten, and its whole body crushes inward, folding in on itself with a sickening crack.

Dead.

Silence follows.

You release a shuddering breath, the glow in your eyes flickering out. Your power fades, leaving you drained, and suddenly, the weight of everything—the battle, the loss, the fear—becomes too much.

Without hesitation, you turn—

And find Enoch.

Your feet carry you to him before you can think about it, before you can stop yourself. Your hands grip the fabric of his jacket, fingers twisting into the material, seeking the only solid thing in a world that’s collapsing around you. Your body trembles, still caught in the aftershocks of what you’ve done, but Enoch doesn’t pull away.

He doesn’t ask if you’re alright.

He doesn’t need to.

Instead, his arms come up, hesitant but firm, wrapping around you in something that is not quite a hug but close enough that it feels like one. His fingers rest against your back, grounding, steadying. A quiet anchor in the storm.

“You’re alright,” he mutters, voice rough but not unkind. “You did good.”

You nod against him, fingers curling into his coat. “I don’t—” Your voice is small, shaking. “I don’t like doing that.”

“I know.”

Another pause.

Then, softer—“But you saved us.”

You exhale shakily, pressing your face into his shoulder.

He lets you.

And for once, Enoch doesn’t care who’s watching.

—

The sea air is different in this time.

Crisper. Sharper. Untouched by the weight of war and looping time. The future stretches out before you, uncertain but real, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you can breathe.

The new house is nothing like the home you lost. It’s smaller, less grand than Miss Peregrine’s loop, but it’s theirs. It’s yours. A place to rebuild, to start again.

Everyone settles in at their own pace. Bronwyn and Millard explore every inch of the place, making plans. Emma and Jacob steal moments by the shore, speaking in hushed voices. Horace complains about the decor but secretly enjoys rearranging things. And you—

You stay close to Enoch.

It isn’t out of fear anymore. You don’t cling to him the way you once did, not out of anxiety or uncertainty. But he’s still your anchor, the steady presence you always find yourself drawn back to.

The others have grown used to it. No one comments when you sit beside him on the worn wooden steps of the house, your fingers just barely brushing his. No one remarks when Enoch silently hands you a mug of tea in the mornings, feigning indifference but waiting to make sure you drink it.

And when the sun sets that first night, painting the sky in warm hues, you don’t hesitate to lean your head against his shoulder.

Enoch stiffens. Just slightly. You can almost hear the snarky comment forming in his mind—You’re not gonna start doin’ this all the time, are you?—but for once, he doesn’t say it.

Instead, he exhales slowly, tilting his head just enough that it rests lightly against yours.

A quiet moment. A promise, unspoken.

You’re safe.

You’re together.

And that’s enough.

[starrilybel]

Enoch o'connor mood board/collage I adore the dead riser (movie ver)

[starrilybel]

8 months in, it’s still going strong

My obsession with Finlay Macmillan is returning so hard right now. It has returned for 3 months already but right now it is ROUGH. ROUGH I TELL YA

[starrilybel]

Hello! First off, congrats on your mum’s business🙂‍↕️

Here’s a one shot request that you can shape to your liking:

f!reader overhears Enoch talk badly about her and an argument arises. The classic miscommunication trip hahah

have fun and thanks🍝

Leak Death

Pairing: Enoch O’Connor x fem!reader.

Summary: Enoch has refused to let anyone else know of your relationship for months but still acts out when someone else takes an interest.

Warnings: Not beta or proofread. Use of Y/n. Slight mentions of an OC character.

Word Count: 2.4k

Note: Hi, lovely! You’re so kind, I’ll be sure to pass your congratulations along <3 First time writing Enoch dialogue so I hope you enjoy!

request guidelines | mother m-list

“Y/n?” His fist rapped against the wood of your door, each tap sounding through your room with the same erratic pounding of your heart. You don’t answer him, huddling deeper into the corner of your bed, against the wall.

He doesn’t let up.

Your name is called two times more, said through a gradually thickening accent. Your bottom lip wobbles. The longer he speaks the more his words echo through you, forming half collerative truths.

Enoch had always told you the truth, harshly said or not and he’d always been able to read you like a book. It was lovely when you’d been new to the loop, something you could easily latch onto and take comfort in. But now, when he knew everything about you, spilled from your lips and dripped from your soul… Enoch couldn’t keep your secrets, only his own.

“Y/n, please!” He pleads, his knocks fading into silence.

“She’s pathetic.”

Pathetic. That’s what he thought of you and Enoch never lied. Never to you, never about you.

“I’m s- I’m sorry.” The apology is forced through gritted teeth, as foreign to your ears as it was his tongue and to you, nothing but insincere. “Please just open the door?”

“Her peculiarity was intriguing to me at first too. Now I know it’s nothing but an inconvenience to us, a curse really.”

You are cursed. One touch of your body in the wrong place and you risk the possibility of unintentionally taking someone’s life. Poison runs through your ulnar veins and produces a slick substance on your wrists, never ending and never washing away, no matter how hard you scrub it always comes right back. A brush of the skin there or a leak through your gloves, everything becomes unsafe.

“There’s been countless times we’ve had to spend the day out just because she caught her glove on something. You think you’d be safe kissing her? Holding her hand? You’d die quick and painful. The loop couldn’t save you.”

The poison acts quick, leaking through most fabrics and seeping right through the pores of any skin it touches. Death is almost instantaneous once it’s been touched.

“She’s a walking hazard.” He scoffed. “She leaks death.”

You are always a hazard. You’ll always leak death.

You don’t always have to be pathetic.

Your door shakes under the weight of his fist once again. His voice has stayed quiet until now, speaking as though you were conversing face to face. “Y/n,” He pleads louder. “Please. If you just open the door, I can explain. Or- or don’t open it and just let me know you’re listening.”

You scoot to the edge of your bed, shoving your blanket to the side. The mattress squeaks lightly under you and you cringe, praying he didn’t hear and take it as a sign to keep talking. Trying your hardest to stay quiet, you shuffle over to the door.

The brass of the door handle makes a funny noise against the leather of your glove, squeaking as your fingers curl around it.

Enoch is silent on the other side and you wonder for a second if maybe he’d given up like you’d earlier knew he would but then his voice sounds again, only this time he’s not speaking to you.

“What do you want, Emma?” He spits, a dagger of defence spearing through the silence.

You pause, every breath feeling too loud, too incriminating.

“You’re a jerk, Enoch.” Emma claims. You can almost picture how she stands, tall with her shoulders back and frowning in the way only she can, sure and disappointed. “I can’t believe you.”

“Leave. This has nothing to do with you.” Enoch snarls.

This Enoch was more familiar to you, angry and defensive always. This was the Enoch you’d met way back when, fresh to the loop and in need of a friend. This was the Enoch who could only ever keep his own secrets, have his own back.

“Y/n is my friend. This has everything to do with me.” Emma defends, scoffing loud enough for you to hear. “You’re a jerk. How many times did Miss Peregrine have to convince us that there was nothing wrong with our peculiarities despite what non-peculiars had to say about them? All for you to become a part of the problem.”

“You don’t think I know that?” He spits. “I’m trying to apologise, so just go away, Emma.”

“No!” She exclaims. “You do this all the time! You’ve treated her badly since you met her, the only difference this time was that she didn’t just let it happen.”

Your heart pangs. They all knew. They all knew how much of a pushover you are, how pathetic you are. Embarrassment gnaws at your gut.

“Y/n is more than capable of sticking up for herself.” Enoch says firmly, his accent twanging into a growl. “Don’t make her out to be stupid. You're not around to see it.”

Emma stays silent for a moment. “You think that makes what you say acceptable?”

It’s a rhetorical question really but Enoch answers anyway, with words you never expected to roll off his tongue. “No.” He grits. “But my girlfriend is more than capable of telling me if she has a problem, she doesn’t need your help.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Your hold on the handle tightening.

There’s a collective gasp through the hallway that causes your eyebrows to furrow, the sound much too loud to be only Emma.

You open the door before you can really think about what you’re doing, coming face to face with the wide eyes of your loop-mates. Miss Peregrine stands behind them, her sharp gaze flitting sternly between you and Enoch. When her eyes catch yours she stares for a long moment, one that has your heart pausing for a whole new reason, before she smiles softly.

“Come along, children,” She beckons, gesturing to the stairs beside her. “I think Enoch and Y/n have some things to discuss.”

The youngest of the children go without question, muttering between themselves as they glance between you and Enoch with unbidden excitement. Olive gives you a long glance before she follows, one that you can’t quite decipher the meaning of but don’t yet care much for.

Jacob, Emma and Sam all linger. Emma’s mouth gapes and snaps shut twice before she turns to you. “Y/n?” Her wide eyes glimmer with question, straying only to further scan you. You shuffle uncomfortably, her eyes scorching your skin.

“Emma?” You murmur back, avoiding her piercing gaze.

“Girlfriend?”

“I-“ You take a deep, grounding breath. “Maybe? I’m– I’m sorry for not… telling you.”

Emma clenches her jaw. “Why didn’t you?” She spits.

You ignore the tightening of your throat. Jacob steps forward, resting a grounding hand in the crook of her shoulder. Emma seems to sense something in the touch, taking a small step back into his chest.

You stammer over a few words, trying to scramble together a response that wouldn’t paint Enoch in a bad light.

You’re not sure why you’re still trying to protect him, still defending his case even when you didn’t agree, didn’t understand it but you are; you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to stop.

Words fail you.

But like he always does, Enoch reads you like a yawning book, wide and full of secrets. He does something he’s only ever done once. “It’s my fault,” He takes the blame. “I didn’t want anyone to know. It wasn’t anyone’s business.” Even if it was his fault.

“Of course it was.” Emma says, exasperated. Raising and dropping her arm in his direction for full effect.

You see Enoch’s jaw clench in the corner of your eye, pulling taught in the way you’ve always loved, but he doesn’t respond. You look away.

“Emma,” Miss Peregrine interrupts, tone as firm as always. “Take a minute to cool down before you get ready for super. Jake, go with her.” She instructs.

Emma takes a breath, lips forming a would be argument. One look from Miss Peregrine has her quickly relenting, her lead boots clanging roughly with the floor as she stomped down the stairs, Jacob scurrying after her without so much as a glance in your direction.

“Sam.” The ymbryne calls sternly. Sam doesn’t look away from you, hasn’t once since you opened the door but he tilts his ear in her direction. “Downstairs to get your hands washed. Super will be ready in precisely five minutes.”

He stands dead still a few seconds longer, staring right through you with something unnerving lighting his gaze. Your skin crawls. Enoch steps before you, his shoulder shielding your face from Sam’s watching eyes. As angry as you are with Enoch right now, you couldn’t help but feel safer with him before you.

Sam’s smile is sharp as he finally looks away, something malicious gleaming his teeth as he finally pivots and travels down the creaky stairs, muttering a ‘yes, Miss Peregrine’ along the way.

“Don’t take too long, children.” Miss Peregrine says as she steps towards the stairs. “We wouldn’t want you to be too late to super, would we?”

“No, Miss Peregrine.” You and Enoch murmur simultaneously.

Enoch turns to you the second you can no longer hear her footsteps, gripping you by the waist and walking you backwards into your room before you can protest. The door clicks shut loudly behind you, forced closed by the toe of his shoe.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me right now,” He rushes out. “But please just listen before you start scolding.”

You choose to stay silent out of pure curiosity to what excuse he could pull together, ready and willing to call him out. If anything, he’d buttered you up by believing you were capable of scolding him.

“The others were playing one of their undeniably idiotic games again and he- Sam expressed a… liking for you.” He spat like the words were poison in his mouth.

You furrowed your brows, waiting. Nothing more came from him. “That’s it?” You scoff.

“That’s it.” He confirms, fingers twitching against your sides. You shove him off in frustration.

“Are you pulling my leg?” You frown. “You said all that you said because Sam might like me? That’s it? Are you kidding me, Enoch?”

Enoch narrows his eyes at you. “Might? He might as well have had Fiona grow you a flower garden.”

“I don’t care!” You snarl, exasperated. “You called me pathetic, a walking hazard! You said I leak death! You humiliated me, you backstabbed me. You used my words to make me look bad. I trusted you! I trusted you and you took advantage of it!”

“I was trying to make him leave you alone!” Enoch’s bellow echoes through your room, loud enough that you’re sure the others heard him too.

You inhale deeply, your shoulders dropping with defeat. “What does it matter anyway?” You heave a rough sigh.

He pauses, chest rising and falling erratically. “What?”

“What does it matter?” You repeat, swallowing. “He didn’t know we were together. No one knows we’re together. Hell, half the time I don't even know if we’re together!”

“I-“ He starts, face dark with anger before taking a deep breath. “You’re right. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“You said I was cursed, Enoch.” You whisper. His frown deepens. “Is that what you think of me? You think holding my hand and kissing me is nothing but dangerous? Is that why you won’t let me tell, so you don’t have to do those things?”

“No!” He exclaims, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “No. You think I would be with you if I thought all those things? You think death through love scares me? I-”

“You said those things, Enoch, not me.” You interrupt, pointing an accusing finger into his chest.

“I know!” He snarls. “I was just trying to get him to leave you alone. I know he makes you worry. I was saying the things I thought would scare him, not me.”

“It had to come from somewhere, Enoch O’Connor.” You growl back, fisting his shirt. “You think those things. Probably always have. Stop treating me like I’m naive.”

“You’re not naive, Y/n.” His tongue pokes out to softly wet his lips, a subtle nervous gesture you’d never been able to take your eyes away from. “I- I have thought them.” He looks away from you, guilty.

Your heart hurts as you take a step back, unfisting his shirt. It was different to hear it come from his mouth than you just thinking it; it cut much deeper. Your eyes water quickly, clouding over with pooling tears that spill down your cheeks quicker than you can stop them.

“In the beginning,” He rushes to continue, his voice thick and frantic. “When we first got together. I couldn’t help it, it was a possibility. Is a possibility. But you’re worth the risk — and more than.”

Your lip wobbles once more, trembling uncontrollably against your words. “What you said was downright nasty.” You cry. “I don’t think it was just the beginning.”

“It was.” He almost pleads. “It was. I don’t care about your peculiarity because you don’t care about mine. You take all the precautions, you make it safe. My peculiarity is all about the dead, I could hardly be scared of you.”

“Don’t brag.” You scoff, trying to smother your emotions back down into the chest box through distraction. “You do enough of that already.”

Enoch huffs a chuckle. “Whatever.”

“You have a lot of making up to do for that.” You sniffle, finally glancing over at him.

“You forgive me?” He swallows lightly, almost unnoticeable if not for the bob of his throat.

You shrug. “Are we still a secret?”

“I don’t think that’s possible anymore.” He shakes his head, dark curls ruffling with the motion.

“Your fault.” You pursue your lips.

“Never said it wasn’t.” He smirks lightly. “I’ll fix it. All of it.” He promises.

You relent into his lure, awaiting the upcoming weeks of him making it up to you in all the best ways with bode excitement. “I want at least a week of fights between my favourite homuncoli.”

Enoch steps up to you, the toes of his shoes meeting yours. His hands find home on your hips, pulling you flush against himself. Your cheeks flush pink.

“Deal.” He grins, leaning his head down to yours, connecting your lips with a tender passion.

~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~

I’m beating writers blocks ass over here!

Like, comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated and very encouraging!

[starrilybel]

im sorry but im in desperate need of more enoch o'connor, it's not okay😭😭

- 😽 (maybe new anon⁉️)

Drive Him Mental; Love Him To The Bone

Pairing: Enoch O’Connor x reader.

Summary: You love him angry.

Warnings: Not beta nor proofread. Suggestive themes.

Format: Drabble.

Word Count: 376.

Note: Hope this helps, sweetheart. Welcome aboard to my list of anons!! I’m so sorry if you don’t like it, I’m pushing through a huge creative block right now :(

| mother m-list

There’s something about his anger that warms your stomach.

You’re not really sure what it is about the way his jaw pulls taut that drives you up the wall but you know you’re done for the first time it happens.

The way he glares at you thrums through you in pulses that run down south and that feeling alone is enough for you to pluck his strings raw. You think he might hate your guts by now; you love it. Ruining him in ways only you can.

Leant against his door frame, observing the pinch of his face is your favourite pastime by now. His curls are frizzed from the run of his fingers, it’s a habit he’s picked up since you came along and honestly you think the look of it’s god given. It’s another thing he despises, another part of you instilled into who he is.

He’s been stuck round a bend of frustration for days, searching high and low for the metal contraption only you knew the whereabouts of. He’d clocked you the second it’d happened and stayed angry since.

“Give it back already, Y/n.” He grits. The curve of his words shoot a tingle up your neck.

Christ, do you love him like this.

Enoch sneers when you only grin in response. The scrape of his chair is nothing to the slam of his palms against the table's surface.

“I’m sick of your attitude and your stupid grin.” There’s no cordial to his words at all and you revel in his lack of composure like it’s the world's greatest gift.

Your heart hums. “You’ll survive, Enoch.”

He about snarls at you, crazed and rabid as you like him. There isn’t a second for you to process him standing before you until your back’s against the wall of his room. He towers over you, glaring through you with enough lasering heat it scorches your cheeks red and your stomach hot.

The brown of his irises, drowned by the black of his pupil, have never looked as pretty as now, hot with the rage you consumed him in. It’s an awful triumph you feel, making him as consumed by you as you are by him.

You’re definitely not giving him that part back.

~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~

Likes, comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated and very encouraging!

I do not give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on this sight or otherwise.

[starrilybel]

It seems I have read every single Enoch x reader fics out here and other platforms I fear.

I write fics as well (mostly as a hobby) and I know I can write some myself but as of this moment all I want to do is CONSUME 😭

[starrilybel]

My obsession with Finlay Macmillan is returning so hard right now. It has returned for 3 months already but right now it is ROUGH. ROUGH I TELL YA

[starrilybel]

reposting this once again because my mind can only think of this

Okay I'm only a little bit sorry so I'll amend my previous scenario.

Imagine humming dandelions and when Venti asks you to sing the actual words, he feels so awed and humbled and flustered all at once because the way you're looking at him while you softly sing the lyrics to him. Bonus points if you tell him the song specifically reminds you of him.

Anon I am so sorry for taking so long to answer because I just HAD to make this really freaking romantic. I can't Not simp for this green creature and I can't stop myself from wanting to kiss his stupid lips and confess my love okay-

Content: aftermath of Imposter AU (implied, forgiveness route), One Punch Man AU (kinda irrelevant but author wrote this with it in mind), Disney Princess AU (kinda), God!Reader with no imposter au trauma because they fisted their acolytes' faces so hard the poor things nearly died before this drabble, tooth-rotting fluff, God!Reader's hair being described (not important, but will be implemented on my OPM AU series)

Warning: Author temporarily lost their sanity in the writing of this fic due to how hard they were simping, not beta read, we die like the Nameless Bard

Song: Dandelions - Ruth B.

"Wow, this place looks a lot different than I expected." You marveled, your wide, vibrant eyes taking in the sight of the dandelion field that Venti took you to see.

The bard simply grinned, sitting down under the shade of a tree and patting the space beside him.

"What did you expect it to look like, Your Grace?"

"Like..." You gestured vaguely. "...a few dandelions, maybe ten of them? I mean, that's how it looked in the game."

"But you're no longer playing a game. This is reality now."

"Yeah..." You chuckled, finally sitting down beside him. "...Reality is always much better. It would've been the best if I didn't have these... godly duties thing going on. It's so unfair that Morax insists on me doing them when he faked his own death to escape that life. Damn hypocrite, I should've punched him harder when I had the chance."

Venti laughed at that, knowing full well you were simply joking. You valued each and every one of your acolytes; you'd never harm them. Well, of course, except that one time they tried to obliterate you and erase your existence from Teyvat...

The Anemo Archon shuddered, remembering how he attacked the Creator and then suddenly waking up in Inazuma's Narukami Island.

The Creator said they gave him a light slap on his face when he asked them what happened, when everything was all forgiven. Venti doesn't want to know what will happen to him if he was given a slightly harder slap.

"You shivered. Are you cold?" You asked. "Here; scoot closer to me." You added, as if you're not already pulling him towards you, making the archon smile. He rests his head on your shoulder, watching the dandelions sway when a gentle breeze blew. The moon was shining up in the night sky, casting a soft light upon them and making them glow.

However, the dandelions pale in comparison to your hair, glowing softly under the moonlight. They're the same color as the mythical primordial gems; beautiful, like a dream come true, like a dream that one has realized you wish to do, like a dream yet to be dreamed.

You began to hum a tune, breaking Venti's poetic musings, making him close his eyes to fully immerse himself in your wordless song. When you finished, he looks up at you with gleaming eyes and a request spills from his lips.

"Your grace, what is that song? Can you sing it for me?"

"Oh? Um, sure why not? I'm not very good though, so..."

Still, you clear your throat... and began to sing.

Maybe it's the way you say my name

Maybe it's the way you play your game

But it's so good, I've never known anybody like you

But it's so good, I've never dreamed of nobody like you

Venti closes his eyes again and made a move to rest his head again on your shoulders, but you don't let him. You cup his face, making him look at you.

And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime

And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine

Venti flushes under your gaze, eyes wide. He tries to look away, but with you cupping his cheeks, he could only move his eyes. He can still see in his peripheral vision how softly you're looking at him right now.

"Your grace..." He quietly spoke, hands placing themselves over yours. "...I-If you continue looking at me like that, a-and emphasizing that you part of the song, I-I... I might misunderstand your feelings..."

"But what if you're right in your assumption?" You replied, still staring intently at him.

"Huh?" Venti hates how dumb he sounded just now.

'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions

Wishing on every one that you'll be mine, mine

A sudden gust of wind blew, making the dandelions' teal fluffs to float into the air. The breeze swirls around them, making the atmosphere even more romantic. It doesn't help that fireflies and anemo crystalflies emerged from the tree they are both under, like they were just waiting to show up in that very moment.

And I see forever in your eyes

I feel okay when I see you smile, smile

Venti feels like he's going to die of both happiness and embarassment. He also found that he doesn't mind if he did.

Wishing on dandelions all of the time

Praying to God that one day you'll be mine

Wishing on dandelions all of the time, all of the time

You chuckled softly, gently running your thumb across his cheek, treating him like a precious gem. A crystalfly lands where his cecilia flower is neatly tucked into his hair, and you found your heart beating like its going to burst out of your chest.

"Kiss me."

Now it's your turn to get flustered. "What?"

"Kiss me." He repeats, breaths shallow. Nervous. Hesitant. Hopeful. "Please?"

So you did.

I'm in a field of dandelions

Wishing on every one that you'll be mine, mine

As your lips move together in a gentle dance, he pulled you even closer against him, and you melted. You fit together like a puzzle piece, you thought to yourself, and now you're complete. You felt Venti's wings engulf you completely and shielding you from the world and... oh.

You've never felt so loved and cherished.

I'm in a field of dandelions

Wishing on every one that you'll be mine, mine

He's always been yours.

[starrilybel]

oh this broke me. so bad

SILLAGE — a Simon Riley fic. 2/2

❱ again this was an au first written on tiktok! this will be the last part of it, please keep in mind that it is all fiction and that if you're going through the same thing and are having the same thoughts, please seek someone you trust. Please fight for yourselves, you're worth it ꜝ？ Warning. . this is a heavy angst fic, mentions of suicide and acts of committing, if that is something that triggers bad emotions, please exit the fic.

paring is Ghost x Reader this is unedited! mistakes such as spelling and grammatical errors are to be expected !

Part 1 (^_^;)

SILLAGE — (n.) The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume.

—hey [name]? I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I just really—

There was a short pause, as the voicemail erupts a slight static sound.

—I love you. That should have been enough reason. No, you were enough. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was cowardly, I figured that you'll be happier and safer, being with someone who isn't me. Someone who isn't a soldier.

It was the same night he left your apartment. He swore to himself he would not come crawling back. To protect both of you, at the time, it had been the best solution for him. Until the midnight strikes, he remembered just how serious you looked, just how accepting you looked.

Too accepting.

—because who knows when one of these missions would finally take me out. I can't let you suffer through that, I can't be the one to give you that kind of grief. So I thought leaving you was the best option.

There was a dire pause as he thought of the best words possible to express himself. He’s never been one to do such, but for you, he’s willing to be better.

—it wasn't.

He spoke desperately, almost shaking from just how much adrenaline rushed through him. He had just argued with the team, and after a long hour of explaining to them what he needed to do, he was finally permitted to bail out on this mission, it’s not like he wouldn't leave without permission, that's how urgent this is for him, he needed to get to you as soon as possible,

Even he doesn't know why he’s in a rush,

Maybe it's because of your silence, the unanswered calls, and unread messages that brought him on edge.

—I love you, far too much, my love, to even think straight without you. I love you so much it's hard to breathe. I so desperately love you to the point it hurts.

The desperation and sincerity. It was all there. He knew if he couldn't let it out now, he won't let it out ever. This was his only chance of being happy.

You were his only chance for happiness. He almost couldn't believe he thought letting you go because of his fear was the best decision.

He stupidly let you go, succumbing to the fear of dying while you wait for him. He knows better, he will do better,

For you. Because you're worth changing for, you're worth the risk.

—please don't hate me. I know I was an ass for leaving in the first place, baby, I am sorry. You loved me so much that it felt so good, I didn't know I'm capable of feeling that way, so I was scared that worse would come after. I'm not scared anymore. You looked at me like there's something in me worth looking at,

He felt like he was saying so much yet so little at the same time,

He had so much to tell you but very few words to express it. He needs to be with you. He needs to see you and physically explain to you just how much you mean to him.

—I won't waste it, love, not again. Please open the door for me when I get back. 

He frowned, realizing once again just how idiotic he was. He knew he should not have done what he did, but it was over with. The only thing left to do is to make things right somehow.

—I've never been taught how to love, I have.. I don't— I'm not the best at it. I'm sorry baby, if I'm not loving you the right way, and for leaving just like that, but I promise I'll be better. you're worth the better of me, you're worth learning love for.

He needed you, and you needed him. That should have been enough reason to risk it.

—when I come back, please let me hold you. Please forgive me for making you feel like an option between my job. It's you. It's always been you. I love you, baby, wait for me. I'll make this right.

As the line cuts, the static sound fills the eerie room of yours. The very same room he had walked out from, the same room where you sat breathing hours ago. There were no other living sounds except for the occasional ticking of the clock.

There were no signs nor sounds of life perceived in the room. The silence was thick. With your lifeless body beside the bed in a fetal position, a bottle of used pills tightly wrapped around your hands. It was light, about three to four pills left inside a newly bought bottle.

It was dead silent as if the universe sympathized with you.

Allowing silence in regards to respect for what has passed, for what has ended.

﹑

“My family’s never been the typical joyous family, I guess that affected me, as a person in general.”

You explain, running your hand through his hair while his head laid on your lap. It’s one of those days where he’d be much affectionate compared to the majority of the time. He requested to hear about your childhood while he rests on you,

For a moment you felt your heart and breath hitch.

“I guess growing up in that kind of household really—really influenced my well-being. It's given me problems and worries I shouldn't have.” You were hesitant to continue, “Fear, I started having fears for a lot of things.”It's as if you caught a glimpse of his mind, taking in the details you've just given him.“Fears like?” 

The moment the question reached your ears, he could see your body tense. He understood, and he doesn't plan on pushing it.“You don't have to answer that, my love.” he smiles, “No matter what it is you're scared of, let’s face it together, yeah? You have me. That's enough, I hope.”

Little did he know that fear was yet to come. The fear of leaving soon, the fear of being unable to keep going. How could you ever explain to him that you don't plan to stay long?

﹑

With a ragged breath from exhaustion, he dropped his things once again, the same way he did before he left. Facing your door yet again, panting as a feeling of discomfort plagued him, why exactly? He’s finally here. Why is he so distraught, he wondered.

“[name]?” he knocks,

Swallowing the lump in his throat, his voice strained, and his state dishevelled. “[name] please—it’s me, please answer.”

The lack of response made him think about just how angry he made you,

“I'm sorry,” he whispers,

“I know I was stupid and irrational. I won't do it again, petal, please open the door.”

To say he’s nervous would be an understatement. What would he do if you never find it in you to let him back into the comfort of your arms? Will he return to the familiar cold he had forgotten when he met you?

“[name] I love you.”

He desperately spoke, yearning for an answer; the smallest sign of acceptance. 

It was odd. How quiet it was. Are you that mad? He wonders, but then again, he knew you’re not one to ignore, not even when you’re the angriest you've been. You would never shut him out, not ever. “[name], please, answer, or I'll have to go inside.”

“Baby are you okay?” no response.

Each passing second was like a countdown. He was uneasy and distraught. Afraid even.

The silence felt deafening. He was afraid of what? He had no clue what he was so afraid of, surely you're okay...

Right?

“[name], I'm coming in,” he says sternly, fishing the spare key he oh so gratefully forgot to give back. His heart thumps louder with each action.

The moment he entered, the creak of the door interrupted the silence. He felt like he was intruding on an abandoned space. It felt wrong. He knew something was wrong.

“[name]? I'm back, like—like I always am.” his voice broke, stepping inside, head looking around, hoping to find you and engulf you in his longing arms. “As I told you, I’ll always find my way back… right?”

He kept speaking while he walked, checking and opening every door. Starting from the small kitchen to the bathroom, checking everywhere until there was one room left. He dreaded it, for no reason he was scared and yet he rushed,

He spoke, no—he goes on a tangent, 

“I'll take the month off. We’ll do anything you want, anything to make up for this. I promise we can even get a pet, I always say no, right? This time, I'll agree, anything for you, my love just—”

The silence rung,

Apart from the sound of the door opening by his force, there were no sounds made, not from him, not from anything. He simply stood, dumbfounded at what the room unveiled; at that moment, nothing mattered, not even the breath he had held unknowingly.

A ragged chuckle escaped his lips, though it was hollow. As if he was desperate to know that maybe this is all some sick prank. Maybe this was one of your silly games he always put up with, “Baby? What’s this? Why are you on the floor?”

“Jokes over [name] get up—”

When it all came to view, he was silenced. The second he stepped closer, he saw how your body lay lifeless, how you held that bottle, and how his eyes drifted onto the lone tear, which evidently dried along the hours. 

How long have you been here?

In this state? How long has it been since you left him?

He couldn't feel. He couldn't grasp his head around the sight before him. He’s well familiar with death. He’s seen it before, and he’s lost comrades before, but nothing comes close to what lay in front of him. 

How does one react when their lifeline lies lifeless before their very eyes?

He couldn't approach nor speak. He simply stood with weak knees, tempting to give out. It didn't take him long to crouch, eyes wide open with lips parted slightly. There were no tears, no emotions, the moment numbed him. It didn't feel like reality,

There he crouched, just a few steps away from you. It didn't feel like his heart dropped. It felt almost worse, as if you'd taken it with you. How could this have happened? Did he cause this?

If you had told him a day ago that he would witness the person he loved the most laying on the floor devoid of life, he would have laughed at your face, punching you even. This isn't reality. This isn't a reality he wants to face.

It took every courage in his body to bring himself closer to you, afraid of what more he’d discover. With slow steps, he drew closer, grabbing your hand was the first thing he thought of doing. “Oh god…” his voice broke,

Your body isn't as warm as it used to be,

Not as he remembered. The warmth he loved when he would hold you against him, it’s gone. You're gone.

He had felt countless of stiff lifeless bodies and yet yours hurt the most,

The mere thought of it destroyed him. It hasnt sinked in yet, but he could tell. He could tell his demise is near. The realization will hit him in a short while. 

“Baby, im home…” this wasn't him. This was not his voice. Stuttering over the easiest words, strained with pent-up sobs. His chest felt heavy, almost making it difficult to breathe. 

Yet with hitched breath, he picked up your limp body and placed you in his arms, crushing your icy body against him. He held you tightly, but his hands cradled your body tenderly. It was as if he’s afraid of hurting you more.

Ghost was forever fearless, always facing whatever challenge was given to him, even his mortal enemy would know that he isnt necessarily the easiest solder to crack, let alone destroy and yet he finds himself sat on the floor holding the lifeless frame of his lover,

Cradling whatever is left of you,

Desperately holding onto what he can possibly hold on to.

The lieutenant everyone looked up on, admired and viewed as an admirable man, sat on the floor with a weighing heart. Holding back the tears that had formed without his knowledge as he held your body, 

but right now, he wasn't lieutenant simon ‘ghost’ riley.

At this moment, he was just simon, the simon you loved desperately, the simon who loved you just as insanely.

This person right this moment was your simon,

He wasnt anyone else, he was yours.

As he sat on the hard cold floor, thoughts roaming with his heart screaming, he felt like a mess, but that didn't matter. Words can not describe the regret, remorse, and stupidity he felt,

If i didnt leave,

If i didn't walk out that door,would you still have been alive in my arms?Would i still have to hold you soulless?

He held you closer, bringing you closer to him, as close as possible. He felt nothing but regret, nothing but anger for himself. Why is it that the very grief he tried to protect you from, the same reason he left, the same grief he avoided you to feel, why is it that he’s feeling it now?

His ragged sobs filled the room, and the rest remained still as if everything sympathized for him. As if the world understood the hurt he carried. He sobs, holding onto you as if doing so would bring you back. He knew nothing well, and yet he foolishly cried, hoping you’ll hear him and come back to ease the pain.

Like you always did.

At the corner of his eyes, he saw the letters piled not far from them. Without standing, nor letting go of you, he reached for it. Reading the names addressed on each, until he sees the one for him.

Of all the few letters he saw, his was the only one with tear drops which ruined the ink in front, almost unable to read, he brought it closer, dropping the rest.

Simon,

I felt everything.

Thank you, and im sorry,

I love you :)

Swallowing the impossibly heavy lump on his throat, he opened the carefully folded letter. He was met with even more tear drops. The thought of you crying, alone, while you write him a letter to bid him goodbye, crushed his soul.

He cant imagine a greater pain,

It felt surreal.

How could I..

How could I have lost you this easily.

With his blurry vision, he starts to read—well—attempt to. With every sentence, every punctuation, every meaning of your words, all of it felt like a slap to reality.

How could he have not seen?

How did he not notice? Not paying attention to what you were going through? How could he have been so careless as to leave you all alone.

The very fear you spoke of,

He did just exactly what your family had done.

If anybody could have saved me,

it would have been you.

He read the part over and over again, allowing your words to cut through his heart repeatedly. He left you, and yet, at the end of the day, you still see him as someone—the only one who could save you. 

Despite the war inside your mind,

Inside your mind and unwavering emotions, which he hadn't bothered to unveil, he remained the most important person.

May it be in your chaotic mind or the furthest crevices of your heart, he remained on both.

He read it all,

Understanding every single thing you failed to say in person,

Everything you failed to say while you still lived.

It hurts even more. He thought nothing could be more painful when he saw you laying lifeless. But having to read what you wanted to say,

How sorry you were, how thankful you are to him, and how he made you feel. 

It was surely another cut to an already existing wound. His mind flashed memories while he went over the tear stained letter you left.

He remembered everything as if they were as fresh as yesterday. When you first smiled at him, when you first held hands, when your lips first touched.

Your words were true. The story of you really is short-lived. But he couldn't help but think about the what If's

If he stayed,

If he hadn't walked out,

If he ignored his fear of abandoning you,

If he hadn't been so stupid and cowardly.

He gave up, and the heavy lump on the throat overcame him, letting the sting linger for as long as eternity. He read the last words on the letter, with a loud sob, with repeated pleads.

Repeatedly apologising, repeatedly begging for you to come back so he could fix things so everything could return to normal,

So you could return.

A childish wish. A high-ranking soldier held the lifeless body of his lover all while he begs for them to come back. 

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, voice too broken to speak normally. "I'm sorry for not noticing."

"I'm sorry you had to be alone." 

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He repeats over and over again, holding you against him. 

At the back of the letter, he could barely see the words written with how blurry the tears clouded his eyes.

Thank you for making me feel.

The words only crushed him even more, sobbing and crying harder to no avail. 

"[name]..." He whispers, holding you close. "Did it hurt? I'm sorry, it must have been so hard."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry for not being here you."

He apologized, wishing he could have been with you. To convince you otherwise, wishing he could have been here to avoid this,

To avoid losing you.

Wishing he could have stayed to keep making you feel.

The thoughts of your words before he left suddenly entered his mind,

"Can I hug you?"

"One last time?"

Now it all makes sense why you looked so serene, why you looked so accepting. Why did you have that small smile on your lips,

You were bidding him goodbye.

That really was the final hug. 

The final touch he'd ever get, the final living affection he would get from you. 

He holds you now, but it wasn't the same, not even close. Back then, you were smiling and breathing, but now you're no different to an inanimate object. Stiff and cold, this is the person he loved so dearly?

It ached.

And it ached painfully.

The type of ache to never go away, the type of ache he'd keep forever.

The type of ache he'll willingly embrace,

As he held you that night, mourning for what could've been, mourning for someone beyond saving.

This was the ache he'd willingly feel forever,

If it means having you in his mind and heart. He would willingly hurt himself by keeping that ache if it means keeping you in his deceased heart forever.

As the remnant of your memories roamed the room, your presence which now passed, the scent of yours he dearly craved. It left a sillage pain to remember,

You left a sillage worth remembering.

"I'll keep you in my heart,

Even if that damage me,

Even if it kills me.

I'll keep you safe forever."

[starrilybel]

❤ TAMAKI AMAJIKI WITH AN S/O WHO DOES WITCHCRAFT ❤

I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR WEEKS AND I HAVE BEEN LOSING SLEEP OVER IT AND I NEED AN OUTLET OTHER THAN BITING MY PLUSHES TY. warnings: Witchcraft, other than that its really just a silly little thing i wrote :))

Tamaki, I'd imagine, is a septic and at first thinks all of this is bullshit.

He one day finds you in the dorm kitchen; angrily scribbling on a bay leaf, burn it and throw it out the window grumbling on how it's been "too long since the dorm wi-fi went out".

Seeing you stomp over to the couch to pull your phone out to excitedly scream "ITS BACK" has him blink for a few seconds.

When Tamaki enters your room for the first time, he's so confused as to why there are so many shiny rocks and candles everywhere. He just assumes you really like rocks and scented candles.

There was this one time you gave him an anti-anxiety spell jar before his presentation, he genuinely thought you gave him a herbal tea blend. It took a few tries to explain what it was meant for to him.

Tamaki wouldn't understand at first why a tiny bottle filled to the rim would help him calm down but accepts it anyway to not upset you.

Post presentation, he's looking at the bottle quizzically. How did he not even manage to slip up once? how did he fight the urge to smash is head against the wall that was right there? was it the jar? no, it was a coincidence, it had to be. right?

He'd just keep looking at it in complete awe and confusion until you show up and tap him out of his train of thought, he just looks at you and the bottle back and forth, wide eyed.

Thats when you tell him you're a witch and doing witchcraft just makes things easier for you, he would be pretty mesmerised by the concept of it.

He'd be asking all sort of questions, if it actually worked, if the leaf you burned was a spell, CAN YOU SEE INTO THE FUTURE?

"THEORETICALLY, i could make Avada Kedavra a thing." "Please don't."

Deffo would ask for hand readings as an excuse to feel you hold his hands.

I feel like he would adore having little tarot readings done, you'd even teach him some basics! his favourite would definitely be the pendulum.

"Y/N, , I nauseous...can't think straight..." "Oh i got a spell for that :)" 👏on👏a��daily👏basis👏

He would be obsessed with making sigils for himself and you, draws them on your hand and kisses it to activate it :((

He would be so grateful if you gave him a protection spell bottle for his missions, he'd try to return the favour by making one for you but it's just filled with rosemary bc he didn't have the herbs to use 💀 You're not even sure if he cleansed it, bless his soul.

Would go feral once he found out one-word spells were a thing, would whisper them before kissing your cheek for an extra boost of whatever you needed, whether it be good luck or a good nights sleep.

He would hear you talk abt witch stuffs for HOURS on end, the whole evening would have gone by and he'd just be listening lovingly. The spells you tell him stick better than the ones he would find online.

Date nights while making moon water and watching Hocus Pocus?? Yes please??

SPELL RECIPIES BRAINSTORMING WHILE SNUGGLING SPELL RECIPIES BRAINSTORMING WHILE SNUGGLIN SPELL RECIPIES BRAINSTORMING WHILE SNUGGLIN-

You once made him a spray which you affectionately labelled "Bullshit Repellent", he was not above spraying it at people who pissed him off that day. A glorious sight seeing him spray magick water at assholes.

"I saw the moon exploded in my dream. Is that a sign?" "No not really, sometimes a stick is just a stick Tami. But i could give you something to prevent nightmares if you want?" "Yes please"

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THE GODS GIVE HIM PLUSHIES ENCHANTED WITH SLEEP SIGILS HE WILL ADORE YOU FOR IT.

You guys would laugh at overly religious people who claim witched kiss the devil's anus to gain magickal knowledge.

Tamaki wouldn't DARE fuck around with spirits, and if you do decide to contact one for your spells he's just there with a big ass bag of salt ready to throw it at the spirit. It would probably piss the spirit off so you had to refrain the boy from chucking it when you made a concerned face.

kjhgfd this was so fun to make, this was just purely self-indulgent :)) PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK, REBLOGS ARE APRECIATED ♥

[starrilybel]

Brothers See Lucifer Cry

MAMMON

Lucifer doesn't cry.

Lucifer doesn't cry, is what Mammon assumed. Because the elder demon was, is, powerful, strong; who didn't crumble under pressure and carried himself with pride.

But it seems even the strong fall.

"Lucifer?" Mammon whispers, utterly confused as to how to approach the demon whose shoulders shake with sobs. He had come to ask his brother a favor, one which was forgotten as soon as he heard muffled cries.

The white-haired demon was fast and quiet when he needed to be. Mammon didn't make a sound and yet Lucifer's posture straightened, the once shaking shoulders now froze and stopped slouching, and when the demon turns around to give his brother a glare, the moonlight illuminates his tear-stricken face.

"What are you doing here at this hour? You should be asleep."

Lucifer questions as he grits his teeth, trying to conceal the cracking of his voice, but Mammon notices. He notices everything.

The demon stands tall now, with his signature stare and crossed arms, but Mammon doesn't flinch.

"Don't stare at me like a bufoon, it's past midnight and you should be in your room and—oompfh!"

Firm, tight arms are now clasped around his waist, and a head now rests on his shoulder. lucifer stands in a stupor at the action, for he didn't expect such a reaction out of Mammon.

One person rooted to the ground as the other embraces them tightly.

"You don't have to hide it, you know?"

THe white-haired demon whispers, his voice trailing off at the end for he doesn't know what to say. Mammon has always spoken on impulse, but right now he fears one wrong word, one wrong sentence might just ruin everything.

And he doesn't want that to happen.

Mammon stares off into the fireplace, the burning embers reminding him of the time when he had gone with his brothers to the human world to witness the fireworks. They were pretty, bursting with different colours against the backdrop of the dark sky.

Lucifer seemed happy then, grinning as he handed Mammon a candy apple while chewing on one smugly.

But all thoughts on his mind extinguish when he feels tears on his skin, and a pair of arms that hold him even tighter as Lucifer openly weeps. Soft, yet broken sobs spill past his lips, and Mammon feels the pain radiating from his soul.

The utter weight of the burden that the demon bore on his weary shoulders—of devastating secrets and pain, of humiliation and regret, and the searing collar of loyalty.

But Mammon is the one Lucifer trusts the most.

LEVIATHAN

He shouldn't be here.

He shouldn't be here is what resonates in Levi's mind, every object and painting in the room is perhaps placed with the purpose to intimidate; scare the foolish soul that dare wander where they shouldn't, and the purple-haired demon is coming uninvited.

There's an anime convention coming up next month and he can't afford to miss it. Cosplay and games, its his domain. Surely, Lucifer won't mind passing dinner duty to someone else.

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again.

From the shadows he can make out a figure weeping, its shoulders shaking with silent sobs. And the shadow belongs to none other but his oldest brother.

"Lucifer—I—I didn't know—"

And there his useless self goes again, babbling words like a fish as his brother wipes the remnants of his tears.

Levi can feel the tension hang in the air. He wasn't supposed to see Lucifer in such a state. The demon is pretty sure that his brother will wipe out his memory and making forget this incident, this embarrassing incident, but he can't get his next move and leave the demon in peace.

The red-eyed demon glares at him, his eyes narrowing in a scowl as he gets up. Levi stays fixated on the ground, his heart in his mouth as he stands.

Things have changed.

Circumstances are different, the environment is different, hell, their bodies are different.

"Do not," The Avatar Of Pride commands. "Do not speak a word of this, or I will have your memory wiped."

Levi nodes in a frenzy, trying to get himself to leave the room in which he came uninvited, but something but something compels him to stay.

Lucifer stares with a frown.

"I—You were crying and I—I didn't know what to do, and you—you were sobbing and—"

"Perhaps I should have your memory wiped out right now."

A threat, and Levi backs down.

He makes a beeline for the door, uncertainty brewing in his heart. But he can feel eyes on the back of his head, and so the demon opens the door and prepares to leave.

Earlier, Lucifer used to be open and kind, but now he has hidden himself away.

Cold.

Levi wants to reach out, put an arm around his brother, comfort him, do anything, but he can't even open his mouth without panicking.

He fears he will make it worse.

So Levi remains quiet and opens the door, stepping out into the hallway.

Two demons, two brothers, alone and distant.

SATAN

"Are you drunk?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm drunk," A glance at the bottle of Demonus clutched around his fingers. "Or maybe I'm just a bit tipsy."

"You'll drink yourself to your immortal death one day," The blonde demon mumbles, already preparing to open the door and leave Lucifer alone. It's not often that one finds the demon in such a state, but Satan is in no mood to handle a drunk demon.

But he stays.

He closed the door again.

How many bottles has Lucifer drunk in order to be able to cry in front of him? How inhibited is he, exactly, that he is starting to speak without a filter?

The answer is very, very drunk.

"You're not...in your right mind," The demon mumbles, taking out the handkerchief from the pocket that he carries and wipes the tears on Lucifer's cheeks.

"Never was," Comes a statement, and Satan flinches.

Wordlessly, he hands the elder demon a glass of water from the jug, and the latter grabs and downs it in one go.

"Tell me 'Tan," Lucifer mumbles, leaning back in his chair as he stares at the ceiling, his clothes wrinkled and hair a mess. The blond demon watches, too mesmerized by the scene in front of him to speak.

"Don't you want to lash out at me? After what I've done to you?"

Done.

The word sits in his conscience like a stone, the mere implication of what Lucifer is trying to tell doesn't go unnoticed. His creation is standing in front of him, a sea of chaos and blonde hair, of the wrath that he failed to keep inside, a turbulent storm.

A mere part.

A relation that Satan didn't want, but had no choice but to keep.

"You could just finish me—hic—and I'm too drunk to fight back, and then I'll be gone and there won't be me and—and then you'll be able to live freely and—"

And you'll leave me all alone.

"Shut up."

Satan mutters through gritted teeth, slapping a hand over the demon's mouth in order to prevent more blabbered words from spilling past his loose tongue.

Selfish, is what he wants to call Lucifer. Perhaps through a chair at his face or scream at him, because he'll be a bastard for leaving him all alone, with only his wrath remaining.

He's willing to leave his brother, his child, all alone.

Satan doesn't feel his own tears fall, but he feels a wetness on his hand. The blonde demon blinks, clearing away the blurriness in his vision, and when he shifts his gaze to Lucifer only does he realise why his hand is damp.

The demon is sobbing in his palm; the cries spilling past his lips muffled against the hand. Each broken sound falls on his ears, each cry stabs his heart.

For a moment he gapes at his brother, before shifting forward and pulling the demon into a hug, winding his arms around Lucifer and holding him as if he fears his brother will disappear any moment.

The demon won't remember in the morning, but Satan will.

ASMODEUS

"Does anyone in this house have the decency to knock and use the barrier known as a door?"

The demon's attempt at diverting the focus on thee situation goes unheard by Asmodeus, whose already bringing out a handkerchief to wipe the tears on his face.

"Stop," The demon growls, brushing away his younger brother's hand. Asmodeus only frowns, before resuming the action.

This time, Lucifer lets him, marred by exhaustion.

For a while, the demon fusses over his brother, wiping away the tears on his cheeks and kissing his forehead. Asmo keeps mum but rests his face in the crook of Lucifer's neck.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do you want to hear about it?"

A tap on his shoulder, and Lucifer's lips turn upwards at the gesture.

"Do you like yourself?"

A scoff. "Like? I love myself."

"Do you like this form? Do you like it here?

Asmodeus freezes at the question, for it feels like the breath has been knocked out of his lungs. The gentle puffs of breath in the crevice of his neck stop, and Lucifer stifles a cry.

Yet, it escapes, a low, pathetic sound that makes the younger demon flinch.

"I do!"

Lucifer glares at him with watery eyes. "Don't lie," He mutters, and stares at the window.

"I am not!" Asmodeus begins, before adjusting an arm around his brother, trying to calm the demon down.

"It was..hard, at first," He admits, tracing circles on his bicep. "I couldn't look in the mirror without crying," Asmodeus laughs, reminiscing the nostalgia of those early days. He'd look at his horns and want to throw them away. He would see his wings and try to tear them away.

Eventually, he learnt to love them, learnt to love himself.

"But then I came to love myself." He concludes, looking up at his brother who remains quiet.

"Do you love yourself, Lucifer?"

Asmodeus gets no anwer, but he instead gets a low chuckle.

"I wish—I—" He swallows. "I am neutral on it."

"Don't be neutral! Love yourself! You're the Morningstar!" Asmo cheers on his brother, wiping a stray tear with his finger.

"You're our brother, our guide, our Morningstar."

BEELZEBUB

He barely escaped.

Beel was barely able to manage to sneak past Cereberus, going around in circles before the environment that he's grown used to seeing comes in view.

With a new presence.

Beel immediately stiffens, preparing to attack if there's any intruder nearby. There shouldn't be, with the giant dog around.

"...Lucifer?"

The ginger-haired demon mutters, eyes widening on seeing the person he least expected to see. The Avatar of Pride wipes at his face in a rush, before turning around to face his brother with a groan.

"Cereberus was keeping guard. How did you—"

"Managed."

A curt nod, and Beel comes to stand where Lucifer is. The sarcophagus of their dead sister.

Not a word breaks a silence, not a leave shakes in the wind as the two figures stand to pay their respect. They keep staring at the coffin; trying to imagine someone long gone by living.

Beelzebub is the first one to break the silence.

"Do you miss her?" He mutters, leaning down to trace a finger on the stone, just as he's done thousands of times before.

A low sound. "I do," And then footsteps follow until his brother is standing by his side again, inspecting the stone carved eons ago.

"I failed."

The demon's head jerks upwards at the statement, wide eyes stare at his brother.

Lucifer remains stoic, and yet, his voice betrays him.

"I rebelled, and you were all dragged into this with me," His voice barely comes in a whisper, and yet Beel hears the crack. "And look what I have done."

"You didn't do anything wrong," He counters, placing a hand on Lucifer's shoulder. "You did what was right. Otherwise if you hadn't protested Father would have—"

"The outcome was the same, wasn't it?"

Silence.

"Tell me!" The Morningstar's voice echoes in the Mausoleum, each broken syllable sending a pang of pain in Beel's heart.

"There was nothing we could do to prevent it," The younger brother speaks, his gaze fixated on the coffin. "You, we, did all we could."

"I—I could have prevented it, I—" The older brother's voice breaks into a sob. "I could have offered to be wiped, but I didn't and—"

"Don't say that," Beel whispers, his own words starting to crack. "We all are glad to have you with us, we won't know what to do without you. She would have wanted you to live on happily."

This time, when Lucifer falls again, Beel's there to catch him.

BELPHEGOR

"The stars are lively tonight, aren't they?"

Belphegor shifts in his place; surprised to have him here of all places.

"They're falling," Belphegor snorts, and turns his attention back to the sky. He expects and waits for the footsteps to leave, but they never do.

Instead, Lucifer sits besides him.

"Your coat will get dirty," He remarks, and his gaze falls on the umbrella lying forgotten on the cobblestone. "And you'll get wet."

"You're the one who came without an umbrella and is sitting by the lake, so why shouldn't I join?"

A huff, and Belphegor turns his attention back to the sky. For a while, the eldest and the youngest observe the star shower, a rare phenomenon that demons run to witness.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" He almost snarls, but the reply comes more softer than expected.

Belphegor watches a star fall, and the memory comes to mind.

"For everything."

In a flash, the Avatar of Sloth jumps forward and his fingers now clutch his brother's collar. "Don't you fucking dare," He growls, bitter images already coming to his mind.

And yet, when Belphegor meets Lucifer's gaze, he sees a tear fall.

"Sorry for dragging you all here with me, sorry for not being able to love you all like I used to. Sorry for not having been the one to fall and—"

A harsh sound.

Lucifer doesn't even touch his stinging cheek where his brother has slapped him. He simply gapes at his brother, who glares at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Don't you fucking dare, Lucifer."

And, in a sharp contrast to his previous action Belphegor now hugs his brother, burrowing his head in his chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat. His arms have come to wind themselves around Lucifer's frame, holding him close and tight.

Above him, the eldest chokes on a sob.

"Sometime I don't know how to feel about you," Belphegor confesses. "You're an insufferable demon who makes me get up and go to R.A.D., and yet you're a lovable bastard who does everything to protect us."

"That's my duty as the eldest, isn't it?"

"Mhm," He mindlessly replies, finding the beating of his own heart to finally calm down. His throat no longer feels like it will construct on him. "It's your duty to bear our love too."

Lucifer chuckles softly at that.

"There's no groceries in the House today, so we'll have to order."

"The kitchen is destroyed again, isn't it?"

A nod, and Lucifer pats his brother's head.

"But first, let us savour this star shower."

~

I'm a bit worried about the characterization, hope it's alright!

[starrilybel]

gorgeous 😭❤️

Comfort On Christmas Eve (FengQing Christmas Oneshot)

“What the fuck?”

That is the first thing that comes out of Feng Xin’s mouth when Mu Qing comes back to their apartment, soaked, posture absolute dogshit, and swaying back and forth like a drunk idiot.

Mu Qing stumbles wordlessly into their shared apartment and flops face down onto the couch like a rag doll. He looks absolutely pathetic, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. 

Feng Xin stares at him, bewildered at Mu Qing’s current state. For one thing, Mu Qing looks like someone just poured a whole bucket of water over his head and a typhoon made its way through his hair, for another, Mu Qing isn’t snarling and firing snarky remarks at Feng Xin the moment he walks in the door, instead, he just lies there, completely silent and letting the water from his wet hair and clothes drip to the floor. After several seconds of bewildered staring, Feng Xin finally says, “Oh my god, what the fuck happened to you, huh?”

Mu Qing doesn’t respond right away, instead, he groans and grumbles and sits up on the couch, he mutters something that Feng Xin doesn’t hear and flops back down. 

“What was that?” Feng XIn moves his head towards Mu Qing, trying to catch what Mu Qing just said. 

Mu Qing grumbles and mutters again. 

Feng Xin can’t hear him. “Dude, I still can’t hear you, speak up for god’s sake!” 

Mu Qing shoots up suddenly. “I said I left my umbrella at home!” he yells at Feng Xin and glowers at him through a thick curtain of wet hair that was still dripping with water.

“Then why didn’t you just come home?!” 

“That’s none of your business.” Mu Qing looks to the side and falls/sits back down on the couch. 

Feng Xin still isn’t satisfied. “Then why didn’t you just call for me to pick you up?”

“Phone died.” Mu Qing answers. “Also, why would I ask for you to pick me up? It’s not like we’re-” he stops there. “Nevermind.” He buries his face in his hands and leans forward so that Feng Xin can’t see his face. 

Feng Xin watches him with a face full of pity, when in fact, he’s feeling a lot more than pity right there. Questions swirled around in his mind about the

current state of Mu Qing and his attitude. Why is Mu Qing like this? Why is he back so late? Why isn’t he teasing and bitching at me right now? Normally, when he sees Mu Qing upset, he’d tease him about it, fully expecting for him to fire back with a snarky remark and that’d escalate into a verbal fight that ended in both of them sulking for an hour before moving on like nothing happened, but today? After seeing how Mu Qing was acting, Feng Xin didn’t have the heart to do that. There was just something that was so off about Mu Qing today, something negative, but Feng Xin can’t exactly put his finger on what.

“Hey, uh, are you okay?” Feng Xin reaches out a hand towards Mu Qing. 

Mu Qing looks back at him through his hands. “Of course I’m okay, what makes you think that I’m not okay?” 

Feng Xin thinks. Bitch, anyone with eyes could see that there is a lot of shit that’s not okay with you right now, stop lying.

Well, besides the obvious, the obvious being that Mu Qing came back home at a very late time in the night, he was drenched and shaking like a leaf, there was just something in his body language and overall attitude that was extremely unfamiliar to Feng Xin. He was used to Mu Qing sassing him around and snarking at him whenever he asked the simplest of questions, but there was none of that now, Mu Qing looked somber, muted, sad.

And Feng Xin wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with that. 

“Well for one, you just came back home at an ungodly time in the night, and for another, you are absolutely drenched, you’re shaking, and you don’t even seem to care that your precious pretty hair is pretty much ruined right now.” Feng XIn replies, specifically emphasizing the last point. Mu Qing cares a great deal about his hair, waking up at least half an hour earlier than Feng Xin every day to style it and flipping Feng Xin off whenever he mentions it. Feng Xin hoped that the hair comment would bring some of Old Mu Qing back, but to no avail. 

Mu QIng rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. 

Feng Xin sighs. “I’m gonna go grab you a towel.” 

Feng Xin disappears into the other room for a towel, but instead of just handing his roommate the towel and having him dry himself off, he returns with a towel, a giant sweatshirt of his own and a hot cup of tea from the kitchen. He shoves the towel and sweatshirt in Mu Qing’s arms and sets the cup of tea in front of him. 

“There, dry yourself off and then change. God knows how much warmth the clothes you wear actually provide.”

But of course, because Mu Qing is literally the most difficult person on Earth, he doesn’t start drying himself off right away, instead, he just stares at the towel and sweatshirt and rubs them with his fingers every few seconds. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Feng Xin grabs the sweatshirt and towel and takes matters into his own hands. First, he starts to wring the water out of Mu Qing’s hair, and for good measure, grabs a brush and starts untangling his roommate’s messy wet hair as gently as he can, because god knows how big of a fuss Mu Qing will make out of Feng Xin handling his hair roughly. 

“Excuse me for this.” Feng Xin says as he removes Mu Qing’s jacket and sweater and wrestles him into the sweatshirt. He then shoves the cup of tea (which is still surprisingly warm despite the winter cold) into Mu Qing’s hands and wraps a blanket around the guy like he’s a baby. 

Throughout this entire process, Mu Qing is extremely docile, only offering occasional half-hearted remarks such as “Quit mother-henning me.” or “Oh my god you’re gonna regret this.” and “No way I’m getting in that.” (“Too bad” Feng Xin says as he jams the sweatshirt over Mu Qing’s head.) but never actually making any effort to make Feng Xin stop. 

By the time that Feng Xin is done, Mu Qing still isn’t acting like himself, Feng Xin finally decides he’s having enough of this and asks:

“Alright, what the fuck actually happend? You come home looking like a hurricane just went through you, and don’t do anything when I fuss all over you, so what the hell is going on?”

“I’m okay.” Mu Qing says, gripping the mug tighter. 

Bitch I thought we went over this. Feng Xin thinks to himself. “Oh really? Cause those tear tracks I saw while helping you would beg to differ.”

Fuck. Mu Qing thinks. 

Mu Qing takes a deep breath. “I got dumped.” 

Okay so that was unexpected. 

“Wh-what?” Feng Xin heard that correctly, right?

“I got dumped.” Mu Qing repeats. “I got ghosted by my date tonight, on Christmas Eve of all days. That asshole didn’t even bother to show up after we had talked for so long, and when I finally ask him out on a date, he accepts, but then doesn’t even bother to show his face! He didn’t even answer when I texted him, bitch just left me standing in the rain for a solid fucking hour.” Mu Qing wipes his tears on his sleeve “Happy now?” He looks at Feng Xin with watery eyes and finishes. 

Feng Xin is absolutely flabbergasted by this. How could anyone ghost Mu Qing? He couldn’t even think of the act. How could anyone make plans with Mu Qing and then ghost him? How could anyone think to go out with Mu Qing on a date, and then ghost him? And the fact that it was Mu Qing who asked the guy out, that made Feng Xin feel really unpleasant. 

“Oh… Oh my god. You got dumped.” Feng Xin says.

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to rub it in my face, you know.” Mu Qing glares at him, wiping more tears on his sweatshirt sleeve. 

“Holy shit you actually got dumped.” Feng Xin repeats. 

“What, is this funny to you or something?” Mu Qing glares at him. “Feng Xin, if the fact that I got dumped amuses you or something then I swear to god I will punch you in the face right here, right now.” 

“N-no,” Feng Xin holds up his hands. ‘It’s not funny to me whatsoever.”

Feng Xin scoots a little closer to him. “So, uh… do I know the guy that you got ghosted by?”

“Why the fuck would I let you know who I was “dating”? Also, why would you want to know?”

“Nothing, just curious.” Feng Xin tries to make it sound as inconspicuous as possible.

“Well then stop being curious.” Mu Qing sets down the cup of tea and wraps the blanket tightly around himself. 

Mu Qing stays like that for a bit, but Feng Xin knows that he wants to complain about the guy, and it only was a matter of time before he started to bitch again.

And said matter of time was literally five fucking seconds. Mu Qing unravels himself from the blanket and leans forwards at the coffee table. 

“Ugh.” Mu Qing picks up his phone and taps into Whatsapp. “You know, you’re lucky I haven’t blocked his number or deleted his contact yet.” He says as he scrolls through his Whatsapp chats. “Where the fuck is he…” he mutters as he looks for the chat of the guy he was chatting with. “Ah here we go.” he says and taps on the profile picture of What’s-His-Face and shoves the phone in Feng Xin’s face.

It was a very poorly taken selfie of the guy flexing shirtless in the bathroom mirror. Just the sight alone was enough to make Feng Xin cringe. “What? He looks like an idiot, I didn’t know you liked guys like that.”

“What my type is is none of your fucking business.” Mu Qing says as he shows Feng Xin a few messages between him and the man until he pulls away and blocks the guy’s contact and deletes every single photo that What’s-His-Face has ever sent him in his gallery. “Also, he kind of looks like you.” He adds teasingly.

“What?” Feng Xin is a little annoyed by that. “I do not look like that guy just there.”

“Oh really? I think you do.” Mu Qing teases. 

Feng Xin opens his mouth in protest but closes it quickly. Mu Qing wasn’t exactly wrong when he said that that guy looked like Feng Xin. Same body type, tanned skin from being in the sun a lot, and down to the bun on the top of his head. 

“Well then uh,” Feng Xin scoots a little closer to Mu Qing. “If this breakup has got you so down, you must’ve really liked him, huh?”

“Well, not exactly. We didn’t really know each other, it was just hookups every time we met in person. Hell, I don’t even know his birthday.” Mu Qing says.

“Then why are you so upset over the breakup then?” Feng Xin asks him. 

Mu Qing sighs. “It wasn’t the fact that we broke up or the fact that we broke up over text, but, what he said when we did.” he sets his phone down and buries his face in his hands. “Why am I telling you this? It’s not like you care.”

But Feng Xin does care, he cares much more than Mu Qing knows. “Well, tell me anyway.” 

Mu Qing sighs. “If you laugh, I’m gonna castrate you.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Well if you do then I’m not going back on my word.” Mu Qing takes a deep breath. “He said that I was really messed up, and that I wasn’t the type of person that anyone in their right mind would want to be friends with, let alone date, and that he pities whoever is f-friends with me, and that, that was it.” Mu Qing’s voice starts getting shaky at that last part, and tears start welling up in his eyes. He tries to wipe them away, but with no avail. “Well if I’m really that bad, then why did he let this go on for so long?” Tears are threatening to spill from his eyes and he buries his face in his hands. 

Several different emotions go through Feng Xin at the sight of Mu Qing starting to cry. 

The first is rage, how dare someone make Mu Qing feel that way and say all those things to him? If it weren’t for the fact that Mu Qing was crying, he

would’ve asked Mu Qing for the guy’s address and marched on over in the rain to give him a piece of his mind. 

The next was sympathy, for obvious reasons.

And the third was dismay, seeing Mu Qing so weak and falling apart over some guy just made Feng Xin even angrier and the thing that Mu QIng says right after doesn’t help much. 

“Don’t answer that, I know what you think of me right now, why did I ever agree to tell you?” Mu Qing tries to glare at him, but it falls apart before it even lasts a second.

Feng XIn couldn’t stand to see Mu Qing like this, so he does the one thing he never thought he’d do.

“Alright, come here, you dummy.” he wraps his arms around Mu Qing and before Mu Qing can even react, he’s being pulled into a tight hug. 

Surprisingly, Mu Qing does not react negatively like Feng XIn thought he would at this impulsive decision and sudden close contact, instead, he melts into the hug and buries his face in Feng Xin’s shoulder. 

“You wanna know what I think of you?” Feng Xin starts talking, he can feel Mu Qing tensing up.

A million thoughts go through his head at once. I think you're beautiful, I think you’re super annoying, I think you are the most annoying person I’ve ever met, I think the way you care so much about kids is adorable, I think us meeting is the best thing that has ever happened to me, I think you’re my best friend, even if you don’t feel the same, I think I’ll never get sick of how you’ll complain about the smallest things, i think there’s no one else in the world that I’d want to fight with, laugh with, be with for the rest of my life. I think I love you. 

“I care about you, okay? I care about you because you’re my friend, and if I’m being honest, I feel like you’re my best friend, and I think that that asshole doesn’t deserve you.” Feng Xin says while rubbing circles on Mu Qing’s back. 

“O-oh.” Mu Qing manages to say, before snuggling closer to Feng Xin. “Yeah, well. I care about you too.” 

________________________________

The next morning, Feng Xin wakes up on the living room couch with a weight on his chest. 

“What the fuck?” he murmurs, and rubs his eyes. That’s when he notices the black head of hair in his face, and Mu Qing sleeping soundly on his chest with the blanket draped over the both of them.

Feng Xin reasons that both of them fell asleep while they were hugging last night and smiles down at the sleeping figure of Mu Qing. 

He reaches for Mu Qing’s head and plays with his long black hair while trying his best to ignore the fact that his heart was breakdancing and doing somersaults in his chest over the fact that Mu Qing was sleeping on him.

Feng Xin continues to play with Mu Qing’s hair for the next ten minutes before Mu Qing blinks open his eyes and asks, “What’s going on- Oh.” 

That’s when he realizes he’s basically cuddling with Feng Xin. 

“What the fuck?” he scrambles to get off the man, but Feng Xin has an arm tightly locked around his waist and he can’t get out of this compromising position with his… friend? 

Wow, that word still sounded strange when talking about the both of them. 

“S-sorry. I must’ve fallen asleep on you while we were… you know.” Feng Xin apologizes and unhooks his arm so that Mu Qing can get off of him. 

“Don’t worry, it’s uh, it’s okay. I fell asleep too.” Mu Qing gets off of Feng Xin and looks out the window. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Feng Xin stands up from the couch and when he sees what Mu Qing sees, he’s repeating what his roommate just said. “Holy shit.” 

There was fresh snow falling from the sky, and the buildings were coated with it, making the view outside look like something straight out of a storybook. 

“Wow.” Feng Xin says. “This is… beautiful.” 

“Yeah.” Mu Qing agrees beside him. “Hey Feng Xin.” 

“Yeah?”

“You wanna know the reason I even got with that guy in the first place?” 

“Uh, okay.” 

Mu Qing takes a deep breath, this is it. “I was trying to get over you.” 

Feng Xin’s eyes widen. “Wh-what do you mean by that?”

Mu Qing rolls his eyes. “It means, I had a crush on you, you idiot, and because I thought you hated me and thought you’d never reciprocate, tried to get over those feelings by hooking up with other people. Well that obviously didn’t work.” 

Feng Xin is so stunned he can barely get a word out.

Mu Qing’s face falls. “And here I was, hoping that there was a chance after- I’m heading to my room.” He tries to leave, but is stopped when he feels a warm hand tightly wrap around his wrist. 

“You, you really mean it?” Feng Xin’s eyes are hopeful, and there’s a hint of a smile dancing around the corner of his mouth. 

Mu Qing takes a deep breath. “Yes, yes I do.”

That tiny little smile on Feng Xin’s face breaks into a huge grin, as he pounces at Mu Qing, who was evidently not expecting this to happen, and falls to the floor once Feng Xin’s body hits his own. 

“Oh my god.”

“Feng Xin”

“Holy shit.”

“Feng Xin.”

“You really do like me huh?” Feng Xin is now smiling so hard it hurts, but he doesn’t care. 

“Feng Xin, I swear if you don’t get off me right now I’m going to kill you.” Mu Qing says as he tries to push Feng Xin off of him. “Also, stop being so sappy and emotional,” he adds. 

“Hey, you were being just as sappy.” Feng Xin hauls himself off of Mu Qing and sits on the floor beside him. 

“Pfft, not as much as you were though.” Mu Qing teases as he gets off the floor. 

“Hey, thanks for not getting over me. I’m glad.” Feng Xin smiles. 

“Yeah.” Mu Qing smiles, the smallest of smiles, but it’s still there. “I am too.” 

“And uh, maybe we could go on a date, after breakfast, today? It’s Christmas after all, and we’ve got nothing to do.” Feng Xin says hopefully. 

“Yeah.” Mu Qing turns to him and his smile grows wider. “I’d like that.”

Here's a link to the one I posted on AO3, they're the one and the same: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43821268

[starrilybel]

aahh secret relationships, truly the best trope I have ever known. the amount of joy this gives me is immeasurable

A Change in the Dynamic: He seem to less strict? (Lucifer's Part)

Question: What if the brothers started to notice one of them started to change slightly and it has something to with...You.

Note: This series of one shots focusing on You/MC have a secret relationship with of the brothers.

It started when Lucifer started to less strict with his rules in the house and often times let things slide. At first it wasn't a big deal with the other brothers. But it deal draw attention when Mammon was scolded or strung up for being caught stealing one of his records.

Now the brothers didn't why Lucifer just let that happened. But Belphie the ever observant little brother notice the way Lucifer looked at you before he let Mammon off the hook.

Belphie kept that in mind and way by his day. During the month he started to see you walking towards either to Lucifer's room or study. Then you started to stay less in your room during the day when there's no classes and often times making an excuse to go to Lucifer.

Belphie told Beel, who shrug it off and say that you might have trouble with your grade and Lucifer offers to tutor you.

Belphie doubt that but for the sack of own energy he drop it and move on.

That wasn't until one night during dinner, the air of the room was tense. Like it was before Lucifer started to be least of prick.

He arrive at dinner late and stop when he notice his other brothers looking like they want to finish dinner and quickly leave. He was confuse and pause to see Lucifer siting at his chair with his stern look on his face. Then he stops you siting in his chair which was furthest from Lucifer's. Since he likes you he decide to let you have his sit for tonight. Though you own him a cuddle nap after this.

He took your sit which was next to Lucifer's, then looks at Beel and his twin shook and gave a quickly glance towards Lucifer which is all the answer he needs. He shrug it off as a normal dinner with someone piss off Lucifer and no one want to get on his bad side. But the question is who?

Who pissed off Lucifer?

Dinner went on quietly right up until your D.D.D buzzed. Its not like this wasn't new. But moment you ask to excuse yourself, Belphie heard Lucifer click his tongue. "No Phone. Who ever it is. They can wait" Belphie can hear the venom when Lucifer emphasize the word who.

"I'm done anyway" you said it coldly, pushing your plate away and stood up before pulling out your phone and look who it was. "It's Solomon-"

"Of course its him!" Lucifer said it with a growl, while you rolled your eyes at him before walking out of the room.

Lucifer growls before standing up abruptly and marches out of the room. Leaving the brothers shock and confuse, more so Belphie.

After that everyone else decide to stay clear away from Lucifer for the whole night or even a week from how they assume his anger is nothing to laugh at. Especially that they assume that your the cause of it or Solomon either way, is best not to be in Lucifer's path.

However that doesn't mean Lucifer can call one of them. Poor Levi and Belphie. If these two have kept their mouth shut or just act like mature adults and not argue about the simplest thing then Lucifer would've heard them argue.

Lucifer physically drag these two to his study by the nape of their necks. With both demons kicking, thrusting and yelling to let them go. But Lucifer ignores it and once they all reach the study. Lucifer toss them into the room before shutting the door behind him and instantly shifts into his demon form, flew up a bit before landing right in front of his brothers.

"ONE NIGHT! I ASK FOR ONE NIGHT OF PEACE AND QUIET. BUT NO! YOU TWO CAN'T REASONABLE ADULTS FOR ONE NIGHT!" Lucifer is fuming and both brothers notice the smell of Demonus in Lucifer's breath and assume that he has been drinking which make things worse for the poor little brothers of the angry demon.

Belphie scowl at Lucifer while Levi was sobbing stuttering attempt of an apology. But Lucifer is not having it. He clench his fist so tight that his claws pierce through his glove and dug into his palms. But a voice from the doorway caught his attention and the other two.

"If your piss at me, fine but taking it out at your brothers is beneath you at this point"

"Stay out of this huma-"

"Finish that. I dare you!" You stomp your foot and glare at Lucifer, who felt your gaze cause him to look to the doorway with scowl expression.

"I'm giving you one chance"

"Like I said, if you have a problem with me then I'll take whatever you have!"

"MC! NO!"

"STAY OUT OF THIS!" Both Levi and Belphie was taken aback by both of you yelling.

"Both of you! Leave before I change my mind!"

"Lucifer you can't just-"

"Belphie for once listen to your brother!" Belphie turn to you in shock.

"But MC-"

"Now Belphegor!" You never called him but his full name before and hearing you demanding he and Levi to leave speak volume is to how serious this is. Leaving with no choice Levi and Belphie rushes out of the room with you and Belphie exchange glances before closing the door. The kept on running until they are as far from Lucifer's study as possible.

That night neither of them could sleep, both are worried to what has happened to you or what Lucifer did.

But to their surprise the next morning at breakfast. The two demon were shock to see Lucifer in a good mood, so much so that he made breakfast.

The others aren't complaining. But something doesn't sit well with Levi and Belphie since they spot your sit empty.

"What the hell did you do to them, Lucifer!" Belphie kick back his sit and points at his older brother.

"Yeah!" Levi jump in standing up from his chair as well.

"The hell? What's going on?" Asmo ask darting his eyes at the three brothers.

"You don't think I didn't notice that MC isn't here right now! And seeing how piss you were at them. Its obvious that you did something!"

"Rest are assure you two that they're fine."

"Then where are they?" Levi ask.

Lucifer sighs before standing up from his chair. "If you want to know. Then follow me" Not giving them a chance to argue. He walks to the door leaving the room. Both Levi and Belphie look at each other before following Lucifer.

Beel stop Asmo from following them and told him that its ain't any of his business and the rest of the continue on with their breakfast.

The three arrive at Lucifer's room. He open the door for his brothers gesturing them to enter. Hesitant for a second the two cautiously enter with Lucifer right behind them closing the door behind him.

The two notice a full body size lump on the bed with the bedsheet cover their body. Belphie didn't waste time and heads straight for the bed and lift the sheet and quickly drop it in shock to see you laying in Lucifer's bed almost naked with only one of Lucifer's shirt covering your torso.

Levi gasps before the two turn around to see Lucifer standing with his arms cross and a stern look on his face.

"I don't need to explain what this means. Since you two were there is only right to show you that their fine but exhausted because what we did last night"

"Since when!" Belphie spat it out with a eyes narrow at his brothers.

"About two weeks after they came back. We started small before it became serious that we weren't ready to tell any of you just yet."

"Three months!" Levi shouted which earn him a warning glare from Lucifer, Levi got the massage and quickly shut his mouth.

"And the fighting last night!" Belphie interject as he step closer to Lucifer.

"Is because I got jealous of Solomon when he try to take MC somewhere, which was plan as a confession. The phone call they got was about that, They told me that they decline him and just mention that their seeing someone which was the reason we made up last night."

He walk pass his brothers and to the bedside where your at. Kneel right where your face is and reach out and caress your face which made you hum in joy before subconsciously leaning into his touch.

"I own them greatly. If they haven't step in. You two would've seen true hell" He didn't even look at them when he spoke only kept his gaze on your sleeping expression.

At that moment Belphie understood why Lucifer wasn't as strict as he was before. However the answer isn't what he want.

Note: I was always a fan of "Secret Relationship" or just "we hide the relationship well!" type of story. And decide why not make one :D

Yes I am planning to do the other characters, though it all depend on my motivation and mood. I was planning to make a all brothers post, but stop when I notice that Lucifer's part is too long and scared that I might not post this if I did all seven in one post and turn this into unfinish draft again.

So I say fuck it and post this part as its own and doing it with the others as well.

If there’s grammar or spelling error, please let me know and don’t be shy to leave a comment or reblogging with cute tags. I just love to see you guys thoughts on this :3

[starrilybel]

can't afford to lose you any longer

includes: lucifer x gn!reader (they/them pronouns used), mammon & lucifer, diavolo & lucifer, micheal & lucifer

wc: 2.3k | rated t | m.list | cross posted on ao3

a/n: requested by @asterinquinn, who asked for obey me angst where you and lucifer are together and while he's away you get attacked and end up hurt/dead. i hope you enjoy!! title from hot tea by half*alive

warnings: angst (with a happy ending), hurt/comfort, lesson 16 spoilers, hospitals, attempted physical assault (non-graphic), coma

“do you really have to go?” you ask, and lucifer sighs, scrubbing his hand through his hair.

“we’ve been over this, mc, of course i do. diavolo asked me to do this task, so it has to be done.”

you laugh, a bitter thing. “of course. diavolo asked you, so you’ll do it right away. after all, you’d do anything for him.” lucifer’s gaze shutters and your face softens, regret washing over it. “i’m sorry,” you say. “that wasn’t fair. i just hate having you gone. it leaves me feel like i’m missing a limb.”

“i don’t like leaving either,” he says, pulling you into his arms. “but this should be the last trip for a while.”

“good.” you sigh, looking heavenward. “i feel like you’ve been out of the devildom a lot more than you’ve been in it, these last few months.”

“sure seems that way,” he agrees, with a small, rueful smile. “but really, this should tie everything up. and i’ll hurry back, i promise.”

“you better!” wrapping your arms around him, you give him a hug. “come back to me soon, mister. if you don’t i’ll go talk to diavolo myself!”

“i will, my dear,” he says, ducking down for a quick kiss. already, he’s shuffling his schedule in his mind to the most efficient order, hoping to lessen the time spent away. on this trip, he was being sent to the angel realm to handle some diplomacy thing. why diavolo didn't do it himself, or send another ambassador, lucifer didn’t know (well, he did know, it was because he was the only man with the right skillset for this job), but he just knew he had to honor his promise to him that was made back when he first fell.

diavolo felt bad about it, at least, so it wasn’t like lucifer was just being sent away all of the time, but still, he missed spending his days and nights with you.

“i’ve got to get going now,” he murmurs, pulling away. “i love you.”

“love you too,” you say with a small smile. “hurry back.”

*

lucifer checks his watch, concern swirling inside of him. you were supposed to call him earlier but you hadn’t, nor had you returned any of his texts or calls. it was unlike you to do such a thing, and he was this close to calling one of his brothers to ask them to check up on you. the only reason he hadn’t is that he kept telling himself you’d respond any moment. you were never one to just disappear off the map.

“what’s the matter, lucifer?” micheal asks, ever intuitive. “you seem worried.”

“i’m sorry,” lucifer apologizes. “i was supposed to receive a call earlier but it never came. it shouldn't have leaked into our meeting though, please forgive me.”

“and they haven’t been picking up or responding to your texts since then, have they?” micheal surmises, disregarding the rest of his statement, and lucifer nods, long since used to his uncanny ability to do things like that. “well then, go on,” he continues. “get in touch with someone who can get in touch with them. worry isn’t a good look on you.”

decorum would usually dictate he decline, return his attention to the matters at hand, but… it was you, and he couldn’t bring himself to do such a thing.

“thank you,” he says, rising. stepping into the hall, he clicks on mammon’s contact, holding his phone to his ear. it rings several times, but just as he thinks it’s going to go to voicemail, his younger brother picks up.

“lucifer!” mammon says. “oh thank god. i was just about to call ya!” mammon’s voice is loud, nervous. something is definitely wrong. why would mammon be calling him?

“what’s the matter?” lucifer asks, a bad feeling unfurling in his chest.

“it’s about mc,” mammon says, grave. “they got into an accident, and are in the hospital. i was gonna call ya sooner but satan said i should wait ‘till the doctor told us what was goin’ on.”

“what? mammon, what happened? are they okay?”

mammon hesitates. “they’re not in any immediate danger,” he hedges, and lucifer growls. “okay, okay. they’re in a coma, caused by the exertion of magical energy-”

“magical energy?” lucifer exclaims, but mammon barrels on.

“-but it’s estimated they’re not in any danger,” mammon continues, “we just don’t know when they’ll wake up yet. ‘pparently some lower-level dirtbags got brave due to your absence and decided to ‘purify the devildom once more.’” lucifer could hear the disgust in his voice.

“my absence? purification?” lucifer echoes thinly. “why didn’t then evoke the pact?”

“i couldn’t tell ya,” mammon says. “mc didn’t call on any of the rest of us either. running theory is that everything happened way too quickly and the magical energy they exerted was subconscious.”

“i see,” lucifer replies, swallowing. “so they’re in the hospital?”

“yeah, and we’re all with them. obviously, they won't let us all into the room, so right now, solomon and asmo are with them.”

“i’m coming back.” lucifer’s tone didn’t allow for any arguments, and surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, mammon didn’t give him any.

“good,” mammon says fiercely. “you need to be here.” with that he hung up, leaving lucifer reeling. you were attacked. and it was his fault. if he had been at the devildom, it would have staved off any thought of something like this from happening and he likely would have been with you. he could have jumped in and saved you. why didn’t you summon him?

diavolo be damned, he was coming back to you. you were in a coma, and he was in a completely different realm.

“i’m sorry, there’s been an emergency,” lucifer says, quickly gathering his things back in the meeting room. “i need to return at once.”

“go,” micheal allows, nodding his head. lucifer wasn’t going to wait for his permission or anything, but knowing he was indulging him on this at least solved one of his problems. “reach out to me once the situation has been resolved but, of course, there is no haste.”

“thank you. it was a pleasure meeting with you, as always,” lucifer says, and micheal smiles.

“i feel much the same, old friend. do let me know when everything turns out okay.”

lucifer spares no time returning to the devildom, heading straight to the hospital. he’s been steadily in contact with mammon, who is waiting form him in the hospital waiting room. he jumps to his feet the moment he sees lucifer.

“any changes?” lucifer asks quickly, desperately.

mammon shakes his head. “no, still the same.”

lucifer doesn’t know whether to be relieved or not. on one hand, the situation isn’t getting any worse, but on the other…

“i need to see them,” he says and mammon nods.

“follow me.” mammon leads him through the hospital, familiar with the way. the waiting room nearest to your room is completely filled with his brothers, the angels, and surprisingly, diavolo and barbatos. lucifer, however, aside from nodding to them, ignores everyone, following mammon to your room.

simeon and belphie shuffle out as he and mammon enter, but lucifer can’t pay them any mind, instead completely focused on you. you’re laying on the bed, deathly still apart from the minute rise and fall of your chest. the image is haunting. he’s already been the cause of your death once, and had mostly managed to put the sight of you bleeding out out of his mind, but this seemed so much worse.

falling to his knees, lucifer clasps your hand. it’s cooler than normal.

“they’re okay?” lucifer asks, voice catching. “besides all of this, i mean?”

“yes,” mammon replies, taking the seat set up on the other side of your bed. “the magic they exerted stopped everyone completely. solomon sensed the disturbance when it hit, as apparently it was incredibly powerful and traced it back to them. they were already unconscious by the time we found them.

“so how did you know what happened?”

“the would-be attackers woke up a while ago. we got them to talk,” mammon says darkly. “and they’ve been taken care of, along with the rest of their group. rest assured belphie and satan are ensuring all groups like theirs are exterminated.”

“good. what about mc?” lucifer stroked the side of your face, but your eyelids didn’t even twitch. “when will they wake up?”

mammon shrugs, biting his lip. “no one knows. the doctors aren’t equipped to deal with something like this at all, and even solomon’s pretty stumped. he thinks that because the spell was so large and uncontained it not only also hit them but also depleted them of all of their magical energy. he says we probably just have to wait for their reserves to fill once more.”

“but he doesn’t know how long it will take?”

“no.”

they fall into silence and lucifer just looks at you. never before had he seen you so still and he hates it. you deserve to look bright and cheery; you deserved to look alive.

lucifer’s eyes burn and he swallows. mammon, thankfully, doesn’t say a thing.

*

days passed, and it was much the same. there were tiny changes in your state, mostly good, but it was moving so slow that it seemed it would take years before you would wake. lucifer spent every day by your side, disregarding his duties. thankfully, his brothers stepped up, understanding, and diavolo had given him nothing but compassion and time.

(“i am sorry” diavolo had said, gaze heavy. “if i had known-”

“you didn’t,” lucifer had responded, “and that’s all there is to it.”

“i’m still sorry.”)

it was night, and he was in the room alone. mammon had managed to get everyone to go home for the night, leaving you and him alone. lucifer didn’t sleep. lucifer wished he could do something to help. solomon, satan, and him had been researching, as much as possible, but nothing had ever happened quite like this before, so there weren’t many texts that seemed promising. usually humans died if they exerted as much magic as you had. satan theorized it was only all of the extra energy from the pacts that had prevented that.

running his thumb along the back of your hand, lucifer wished he could do something. if only he could give you all of his energy. he had already done it when you protected yourself, albeit unknowingly, and-

wait.

why couldn’t he do that?

it had never been done before, but no one had ever had a pact with him before either. the pact was a two way street.

gathering all of his energy and emotions, lucifer took your other hand, so he was holding both of them, focused on your pact, and pushed. it felt weird, and wrong, but he didn’t give up. if you could draw energy from him while you were awake, then he should be able to give you some now.

slowly, he felt the energy shifting, settling. the strain had his eyes falling shut, but when he felt you move slightly, his eyes snapped open. your eyes were rolling around behind your eyelids and your breathing was coming faster. the heart-rate monitor sped up, and lucifer pushed harder.

your eyes opened, and lucifer slumped, relief so overpowering he felt like he could pass out. you blinked hazily and lucifer squeezed your hand.

“mc,” he breathed, and slowly, your eyes focused on him.

“lucifer?” you asked, throat raw from unuse. “where am i? what happened?”

pressing the ‘call nurse’ button on the side of the bed, lucifer pressed his forehead to yours. “you’re in the hospital. you’ve- you’ve been in a coma for the last several days. don’t try to move too much.”

“what?” you stared into his eyes. “i…”

“shh,” lucifer chided gently. “i’m just glad you’re awake now. i was so worried.”

“oh,” you say, still out of it. honestly, he’d be concerned if you weren’t. “it was those demons, wasn’t it? i remember not knowing what to do, then… nothing.”

“they didn’t lay a single hand on you,” lucifer swore, and you slumped back onto the bed a little, relieved. “and they’ve been taken care of already.”

“but if that happened, weren’t you in the celestial realm?”

“silly human,” lucifer said, his heart splintering further. how could you think he’d stay there when you were in danger, let alone a magically induced coma! “of course i came back here for you. dropped everything to come see you with my own eyes, make sure you were okay.”

you smiled, faintly, and the sight of it stole his breath from his chest. lucifer had been so scared he was never going to get to see you smile again. “knew you would,” you said. “you love me.”

“that i do,” he replied softly, as the nurse finally came in. “that i do, my dear.”

“stay,” you said, as you registered the nurse, who gasped. lucifer ignored her in favor of drinking you in, replaying your voice.

“as if i’d leave. you’re stuck with me, i’m afraid.” and he was afraid. so afraid. but you were awake, and alive, and seemed okay. maybe it was all going to be alright.

as if you could read his mind, your eyes filled with warmth, overflowing into tears that dripped down your face. lucifer wiped them away gently. “i’m so glad,” you whispered. “i’m so glad i’m stuck with you. lucifer.”

“mc,” he said, and it felt like things were finally clicking back into their rightful place. it felt like coming home.

leviathans-watching’s work - please do not repost, copy, or claim as your own

[starrilybel]

They’re spying on Lucifer in his study

based off this:

[starrilybel]

me who is currently trying to build all my characters:

🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

So uh.. random SAGAU brainrot; How dangerous the characters in imposter AU are based on how well built they are---

so take a look at the level 40 amber that with a random 4* bow equipped that you TOTALLY have

it feels like you're being shot with a nerf gun.

lvl 32 gorou? cute, not scary.

now go and look at your main.

That's all, have a nice day.

[starrilybel]

chapter 1 - when i first posted this on instgrm it blew up a little and it scared me :)