#&& when my problems began; demon drabbles

[brothersgrim]

SEND 'WHAT IF' SCENARIOS FOR MY MUSES TO REACT TO! || ACCEPTING

Anonymous asked: What if Taker was in a situation in which he felt extremely confused by something 👀  sorry, I’m not that creative with asks

He shifts in his bed, scrunching his face in displeasure at the hazy notion of waking up. He's tired. He's sore. He knows his duties will summon him soon, but for now, his bed is comfortable, and that is enough. It is so much more than he had for so long. 

There's a noise from out in the hall. Footsteps. Now, enough people came and went these days that that noise wouldn’t normally bother him. But even with so many people, the Undertaker knew them all - he wouldn’t bring them here otherwise. He knew their voices, their habits, their rhythms, and, while he wasn’t as keen at it as Kane was, he knew their footsteps. He could usually tell who it was walking past his door.

He does not recognize those steps. 

The Undertaker opens his eyes with a frown, brow knotting as he sits up, and–

And this isn’t his room. 

This isn’t his room, even if it feels painfully familiar. It’s still small, though he wonders if it feels bigger simply because there are more things in it than usual - where did they come from? The rug, the desk, the chair, the lamp… The posters were different, but he recognized the room itself. He knows, if he were to look out the window to his left, he would see the Yard. His Yard. He pushes carefully off the bed and freezes when his feet brush something soft. He looks down, and things get stranger still. A set of slippers rests against his feet. Soft ones, hand-made by a matron in town for a church fundraiser.

He remembered these. He didn’t know why - they should be inconsequential - but he remembers them. And the feet that brush against them move when he wills them to, the toes flex and curl, but these aren’t his feet; they lack the weathering and callouses, the scars on the sides where poorly-maintained boots had worn skin away to bloody messes more times than he could count. He raises his hands to his face, and they’re similarly smaller, unblemished, nails neatly groomed without any traces of grave-dirt or blood or motor oil stuck underneath. This–

This didn’t make any sense. There was an answer, an explanation, to all of this, but it danced and spun and swirled around in illogical circles until all it looked like was a dream. This was a dream. This was a dream, it had to be, it was the only thing that possibly made sense. He pushes off the bed (the blankets felt too soft, too real, and wasn’t this different from how these dreams normally went?) and is halfway to the mirror in the corner when the footsteps come back, and there’s three steady knocks on the door. The voice comes through the door just as he catches his reflection - just in time to see the agony flash across his younger self’s features as recognition twists the knife of grief. 

“Hey in there. You ready for bed yet?” 

That’s his father’s voice. A voice he had longed to hear and failed to properly remember for so long. Any response is caught in his throat, stopped by the lump and the sickly taste of bile that he clamps his jaw against, by breaths that trip and stumble as they make a rapid escape from his lungs without leaving any oxygen behind. 

“Adam?” Another knock and he knew, he’d known for so long, that he hadn’t quite gotten it right in his mind, but he hadn’t realised how many little details time had worn away. That was his father’s voice. The way his accent shaped each vowel, dulled the edge of some consonants and sharpened some others. The hint of concern mingled with confusion, so genuine and authentic and different, so different from how Paul had spoken of them. “You there?” 

This had to be a dream. It had to be. The door handle rattles and his entire body tenses. He knows what will happen next. The door will open and he will see his father’s face, burned and disfigured, and it will tell him that everything was his fault and he will wake up for real, in the master bedroom in his own– His grown– body. That’s what will happen. That’s what will happen because nothing else makes sense. That’s what will happen because he does not know what he will do if it doesn’t. The door opens and it is not his father’s corpse he sees. It is his father. Just his father, but like his voice, the memories of his face, even the photo kept hidden away, lacked so many details. The faint scar on his lip. The furrow in his brow. The way his hair flopped when he tilted his head, the creases at the corner of his eyes from a lifetime of smiling and thinking and squinting alike. 

“Ad-?” His father begins, but cuts off when he meets his son’s eyes. The Undertaker - Adam - does not move. He’s not sure he can. His father’s eyes widen a bit, and he reaches in the room to set his mug (his favourite mug, off-white and coffee-stained from years of use, it had a soup recipe on the side but he always filled it with everything but instead) on the dresser (handmade by Grandpa Abe, years and years before Adam was ever born and longer still before the fire claimed it and everything else). 

“Whoa, whoa, easy.” His father closes the door behind him and crouches down, close enough to study his son’s face but far enough to not crowd. The Undertaker - Adam - studies him in kind through wide, shellshocked eyes. Green eyes, not like his father’s brown. A soft green-and-navy flannel shirt hung on shoulders made broad from ranching, from grave-digging, from casket-building, a strong nose wrinkled just enough as he frowned down. This was his father. “What happened?” (You died.) “What’s wrong?” (I killed you.That’s what’s wrong. You died, I killed you, I didn’t mean to but I did and you’re dead and I lost you and–) His father’s hands, work-rough but gentle, come to rest on his shoulders and he flinches. If he hadn’t felt sick before, he did now. This is his father.

This is his father, and this is not a dream. 

“Jesus, c’mere.” His father sighs and pulls him in for a hug. It’s crushing, it’s suffocating, it’s ensnaring, it’s safe, and it isn’t until his father holds even tighter that Adam realises he is leaving tear stains on his father’s shirt. Oh. He’s crying. He’s crying, and he’s not sure he will ever be able to stop. He is Death. He is the Reaper. Men the size of mountains ran at the mere idea of his presence. His name was a legend, a warning, a curse, a promise. He is the Omega, the ugly truth of the world, and the truth he cannot bring himself to accept is just how much he had wanted this for so, so many years. His hands shake as he takes tentative fistfuls of flannel, then grips hard enough his knuckles turn white as he presses his face against his father’s shoulder.The shuddering, messy inhale that he forces smells like coffee and wood chips and spiced aftershave, fabric softener and earth and embalming fluid. It smells like comfort. It is a smell he had long since forgotten, and even though his lungs don’t work and his chest burns he forces himself to breathe it in again. 

“You hurt?” His father asks and the Undertaker has no idea how to respond, so Adam doesn’t. Only manages another breath that sounds deceptively like a hiccup. His father hums a single note and stands, tightening his arms just enough to lift Adam up off his feet. “Think there’s a bit more cocoa in the pot downstairs. Why don’t we get you some?” The offer only makes Adam cling to him even tighter. (How long had it been since anyone had offered the Undertaker cocoa? The Devil Himself did not need comfort. The Pale Rider had no use for warmth.) “C’mon.” His father opens the door with one hand and shuts it as they step through, leaving the soup mug behind. (That’s right, he had a habit of forgetting where he left things, hadn’t he? Another detail long forgotten.) He clings to his father and one of the boards creaks, and oh, right, he’d always had to be careful of that when he was young, right? And then there’s another creak as a door opens. Another voice the Deadman had resigned himself to never hearing - at least, not like this. Another set of spectral hands ripping into his chest.

“What’s wrong with Adam?” 

“Nothing, Fireball.” His - their - father says, reaching down with one arm to tousle Kane’s hair. His little brother looks up and his throat seizes again. The eyes he meets are grey - both grey, not mis-matched by smoke and flame and infection. His brother, little brother, baby brother, is just how he had tried to remember him for so many years and even through blurring vision he can’t look away. It’s how he was always meant to be. How he should have been, until– “Just a bit under the weather, is all. Go turn down your bed, I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Kane says, not bothering to keep the frown out of his voice. The door closes and Adam thinks more than feels the nudge through the air, that voice he had grieved so deeply peeking in through the disoriented haze of his own thoughts. 

You okay?

Kane. He sent back, squeezing his eyes shut and once again burrowing his face into his father’s shoulder. Is it really you?

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be Kane. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. It had to be a trick. A lie. It would all fall apart because it always did. It would go wrong and twist and he would lose it - them - again because he always did. 

It’s me. Kane’s voice says and it’s a punch to the gut all over again. Why? Did something get out? Do we need to find Mama? 

Mama.

Their mother. 

Was she here, too? The last time he had seen her had been when Kane - grown, scarred, furious Kane - had thrown him into her casket. Before that, it had been when Paul had brought him to the other funeral home. When he had seen a skeletal grin and blackened glass and bloody, charred flesh– Another shudder wracks his too-small body as the revulsion hits him anew.

“You’re okay.” His father says, carefully setting Adam down on a chair. It feels so much bigger than chairs are supposed to. He doesn’t let go of his father. He wasn't sure that he could. If he does, his father will slip away again. If he does, he will wake up as he was yesterday and he will never see his father again, outside of photographs. If he does– 

His father rests a hand on Adam’s head before pulling away. 

“Sit tight.” His father says, moving to a pot resting on the stove. He rummages around for a mug and finds one, smaller than the now-discarded soup mug with two little mice painted on the side. He lifts the pot by its long wooden handle, pours cocoa into the mug, then returns to Adam’s side. “Here y’are. Drink slow, but see if it helps you any.” Adam takes the mug in his hands and stares.

“It’s warm.” He says, and even he notices the incredulity in his voice. His father lets out a surprised snort. 

“Well, yeah. It’s hot chocolate.” And yes, he’s right, the name should make its temperature obvious, but that’s not the point. The point is that Adam - the Undertaker - can feel it. The point is that it’s another sign that this is all, somehow, impossibly, inexplicably real. He hesitates a moment longer before taking a sip. It’s warm, yes, but it’s rich, sweet, comforting. Something homemade, from scratch, not from a packet. 

“My mama - your Granny Jules - used to make this whenever my siblings and I had a rough night.” His father leans against the counter with a grunt belying stiff muscles. “‘Course, when we started getting bigger, she put whiskey in it. … You still got a few more years before you can give that a try.” His father offers him a smile, and though it still twists at his heart, Adam manages a smile back. This is real. He has to accept that. Maybe… Maybe everything else had been a dream? No. That didn’t make sense, either. It had been fifty years, and he had felt every second of it. … Maybe he should give up trying to rationalise this. His mere existence had defied logic for so long; why would this be any different? (But at the same time, nothing good, logical or otherwise, ever lasted with him. Everything he loved had been taken away over, and over, and over again. Accepting this as reality would only make it hurt more when it was ripped from his grasp.) It’s a debate he’s still having with himself when he takes another sip of his drink. Then there are more footsteps, and these ones are not difficult to recognize. 

“JT! You down there?”

Paul. 

So many things happen at once. Adam chokes on his drink. The light overhead explodes. His father flinches back into the counter and curses. Paul bangs into something upstairs and says something similar. He comes downstairs and Adam cannot stop staring. That’s Paul. That’s Paul. That’s Paul. Paul is here. Why is Paul here? Paul stares at him with a furrowed brow. 

“The hell was that?” Paul asked. Adam gripped the mug so tightly his hands shook. 

“Just a light.” His father said, but there was a different tone to his voice. His words were just a bit slower, a bit more thoughtful. “Think you can go find Iza for me? We’re gonna need to clean this up, get a replacement. She’s out back.” Paul watched Adam a moment longer, then shrugged and made his way to the back door. Adam did not take his eyes off him, nor did he loosen his grip. Paul was here. Paul was here. Paul was here. It’s a thought that consumes him so much he doesn’t realise his father has moved until they’re in front of each other.

“Adam.” His own name makes him jump again, sloshing cocoa onto his fingers. It burns. The sensation, unpleasant as it is, helps ground him. His father carefully pries the mug from his grasp and sets it on the table, before work-worn hands rest on Adam’s shoulders. “You’re not in trouble, but I need you to be honest with me. Did he do something to you?” Adam didn’t answer. How could he? How could he explain forty years of torture to the father who only knew him as– How old was he? Ten years? Eleven? 

“I-” He starts, then stops. Forty years of suffering. Forty years of misery, of slavery, of pain and fear and what he had done to Kane and– Without being aware of it, his hands had moved to his throat. And then he swallows, looks down, and clutches at his own hands. “I…” His father’s jaw clenched and he looked over his shoulder to the back door. After another beat, he turns back and scoops Adam back into his arms. 

“Y’know what? Grab your cup, Mr. Man. We’re having a sleepover tonight.” 

It’s almost robotic, the way Adam does as he’s told. It’s easy to fall back onto that old habit. It’s familiar. Far more familiar than the way his father carries him up the stairs, stopping only to knock on Kane’s door. 

“Hey, Kane! C’mon. You’re sleeping in our room tonight.” His words were met with some shuffling noises from the other side of the door, before the knob turned and Kane’s ruffled head poked out. 

“I am?” He asked, blinking groggily. He must have been settling down already. Their father reached down to smooth Kane’s hair back into place. 

“Yup. Sleepover night.” Their father nodded. “Grab your bear if you want, but hurry it up. It’s getting late.” 

“Okay.” Kane disappeared into his room again, then reappeared and trotted after their father. Adam found himself deposited on their parents’ bed. His father squeezed his shoulders one last time, pressing a kiss to the crown of Adam’s head. 

“Stay here, I’m gonna go find your mama.” And then he leaves. He leaves, and those words cling to Adam like an embrace, like a security blanket, like brambles, like a noose. The bed shifted behind him, but Kane’s voice still almost made him jump.

“You’re not sick, are you?” He asked. Adam worked his jaw, then carefully set the mug down on the nightstand.

“I dunno what I am.” He said after a while. Kane flopped against his back. The warmth, the pressure, helped. The closeness to his brother helped. It didn’t chase the tightness in his chest away, but it helped. 

“You’re scared.” That did not help.  

“Kane-” He started. He didn’t need his brother digging through his head. Not now. He didn’t want Kane to see. Kane didn’t need to know. (He didn’t want Kane to know.) 

“It’s okay.” Kane said, shrugging the shoulder that wasn’t smushed against his brother’s back. “It’s like Mama always says. Nothing can hurt us in this house.” … Adam was glad his brother didn’t see the expression that just flashed across his face. How he wished that was true. How he’d used to believe that was true. How many years he had desperately, desperately longed for it to be true. But it wasn’t. He grips the mug tighter and leans back against Kane. The warmth of both and the weight of his brother feel a million miles away. His chest is tight and he closes his eyes as though that will banish the pain. He needs to breathe. He knows he needs to breathe, but this is all too much, too much, too much– The creak of the stairs.

He’s not ready for this.

His father’s muffled voice.

He’s not ready.

“... Look in his eyes, almost didn’t look like him.” His father was saying. “I’ve only seen that look two other places. Soldiers, and the pigs you bring in on Halloween.” The pigs. Livestock only in the loosest sense. Shepherded in from death row, or rounded up in the wild if they hadn’t been caught yet. Serial killers, repeat abusers, the worst of humanity, and they all squealed when they realised what was going to happen to them. He knew that well enough from his own experience. (He’d had to keep the tradition going. He had to. And he had done it, like all things, alone.) And the door opens. And the air leaves the room again. And he no longer feels the cup, or his brother. And he knows he’s shaking but he doesn’t feel that, either. And he imagines he’s crying again but even that escapes sensation. There’s an image juxtaposed over his mother’s face. One he’d never forgotten, not in forty years. Charred, blistered skin. Lips peeled back to reveal ash-coated teeth. Glass lacerating through reddened skin. Patches of skull where hair had been eaten away. A hole where her nose was meant to be. And only congealed, half-boiled pits where her blue, blue eyes had once been. That is what his mother had looked like, the last time he’d seen her face. And he sees it now. And he feels sick. And his head is spinning. And it’s too light and too dark and his heart is pounding, deafening in his ears and that’s his mother. And he feels like he is falling apart and compressing all at once and his own hair feels hot and itchy against the back of his neck and that is his mother. 

That is his mother. 

That is his mother and she’s getting closer. 

That’s his mother and he still remembers how her charred flesh smelled.

That’s his mother and she’s in front of him. And he can’t breathe. And it smells like smoke and cooked flesh. And it smells like cinnamon and lavender. And she is burned and she is beautiful. And she is in front of him. And his vision is blurring so much it no longer matters what her face looked like; he couldn’t make it out anyways. She folded her hands on the blankets near him - an invitation for comfort, but not making contact yet. 

“Addie, baby?” Her voice was a lance through his heart. “What’s wrong?” The floorboards creak (so loud, so shrill) as his father moves to his mother’s side. Another fuzzy shape in front of him. 

“I’m sorry.” He manages. His voice croaks and it hurts to say the words. He tries again anyway. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” The indistinct shape of his mother shifts, likely looking up at his father, but she will find no answers there. He wouldn’t know. Neither of them would know the blood and soot that stained their oldest’s hands. They wouldn’t know how badly he’d hurt them. How he’d-

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, though even he barely understood it. “I’m sorry.” It’s a mess of syllables, fumbled together and dropped from the shaking grasp of his lips until they fell on a floor in a heap. He curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his chest as though that might stop the last pieces of his heart from shattering further. 

It doesn’t work. 

“Oh, baby.” His mother says, wrapping him in her arms and pulling him close. She kisses the top of his head and it aches, it burns, it’s agony and it’s a redemption and a forgiveness that he has done nothing to deserve. He does not deserve her love and yet he has craved it so desperately he can’t bring himself to pull away. She holds him tighter still and at some point, he had started clinging to her in kind. He doesn’t remember when. All he knows is if he tried to hold on to the back of her blouse any tighter his hands would break. He tries anyways. He tries another apology, too. Neither attempt is successful. His mother holds him anyway. And just like with his father, eventually, he wears himself out. He does not let go, but the tears slow down. His breathing steadies to shaky hiccups. But he doesn’t let go until she pulls away and he has to. Her hands find his face and her thumbs brush away the lingering moisture on his cheeks. He raises his own hands to hold on to her wrists, pressing his face into her palms. He had tried to memorise this feeling after she had been gone. (He’d had no way of knowing he’d be forced to forget.) 

Feeling the real thing now, his memories didn’t come anywhere close. 

His mother sighs. It’s not an annoyed sigh, nor is it condescending. It’s a release of tension. It’s permission to relax. She leans in and kisses the top of his head again. For another moment, she stays with her face pressed against his scalp. He blinks; his eyes still sting. 

“You okay, baby?” She asks. He sniffs, and for the first time since he could remember, he answered that question honestly. 

“I don’t know.” 

“And that’s okay.” She smooths his hair and smiles down at him and he sees her face, and it’s even more beautiful than he remembered. “Why don’t you stay here with your brother? I gotta talk to your daddy for a minute.” She moves to stand and the ‘no’ that leaves him is involuntary. Don’t go. Don’t leave me, not again. I just got you all back, don’t go. 

I need you. 

Her lips flicker into a frown, concerned and- angry?- but it vanishes just as fast. There’s a fluctuation in temperature, a drop that he swears must have been his, but her hand is freezing when it runs through his hair again. 

“We’ll be back, Adam, sweet boy. I promise.” And despite the warning signs, she was as gentle towards him in tone and action as she had ever been. She turns and leaves quickly, their father following behind. The door closes behind them. Adam sniffs and wipes at his face again. There’s silence, filled by the staccato ticking of the clock on the night stand and the soft rustling of Kane squirming around in the sheets. Adam keeps staring at the door. Then Kane plops his chin on Adam’s shoulder and speaks. 

“Would it make you feel better if we listened?” He asked. “Then we won’t be so far away.” Adam scrunched up his faze and scrubbed at his eyes one last time. Kane was right. Adam didn’t want to know how much he’d picked up–

“Not a lot.” Kane shrugged.

“Cut that out.” Adam mumbled into his own sleeve. Kane huffed, flopping backwards onto the thick down-stuffed pillows his parents enjoyed. 

“Well, you won’t tell me what’s going on! I’m worried.” He said, pouting at the ceiling. “You’re never like this.” And maybe he was right. Adam absolutely hadn’t been that way when he had stopped being Adam. He didn’t remember what he was supposed to be before the fire. Apparently, not like this. 

“Yeah.” Adam ended up saying. “Let’s go listen.” Anything to avoid letting his brother know what he was thinking. They both slipped off the bed, their socks helping to muffle the impact of their feet against the floor. And the door opens slowly, quietly, careful of the potential squeaking hinges, and Adam leaves first, finding his spot at the top of the stairs. He can’t see his parents, no matter how he manoeuvres. They must be in the back entryway. But he can hear them, and hear them well. 

“What happened, JT?” She was asking. She sounded mad again. “What happened to my little boy?”

“I don’t know.” Their father said. His voice was more level than their mother’s, but had a hard edge. He’d had enough time to gather himself. “I was doing the usual bedtime routine and found him like that, just like I told you. Had him calmed down a bit, but…” Their father sighed. 

“... What is it?” Their mother still seemed agitated, but concern had returned to her voice. Adam leaned forward, grasping the bannister for support and pressing his face between the beams. He could just see their shadows in the butter-yellow light that spilled in front of the staircase. It was a good thing he’d leaned in, because his father spoke much more softly now. 

“I think it was Paul.”

“What?!” He could see their mother’s shadow take a step back. “What do you mean? What did he do?” 

“All I know is, he showed up, and Adam looked like someone just walked over his grave. Pale as anything, kept staring, I swear, I called his name three times and he didn’t hear me. Something happened even if I don’t know what.” 

“You’re sure?” Their mother asked, and this time, their father replied instantly.

“Sure as I need to be.”

“Fine.” Their mother says. “So we get rid of him, then. Nobody gets to hurt our boys, I don’t care who they are.” Their father hummed his agreement, and his shadow nodded. 

"I’m with you on that. Only thing I'm hung up on," his father says, a creak of wood belying a shifting of weight, "is what we tell Keith." 

"Why does he have to be told anything?" It's mama's voice, a coldness in it he isn't sure he ever heard. 

"Because. No more disappearances, remember?" 

"J." His mother tuts. "It's only a disappearance if someone comes looking." Adam tightens his hands on the bannister. It’s a struggle to keep his breathing quiet. It's them. It's really them. And he still does not know for how long he will have them back, so he is determined to re-learn their voices. Even if they are talking about murder. They are going to kill Paul. It is a thought that calms and terrifies him in kind - Paul is a monster. He deserves what he is getting. But what could someone like him do when cornered-? 

“Got a point.” His father says with a sniff. “Don’t think I’ve heard him really talk much about his family, so I don’t imagine they’re close.” 

“So we should be fine.” His mother replies. There’s a moment of silence that he imagines is filled with his father nodding. 

“Mind if I take the shovel?” His father’s voice again. “I just-” And then his father’s voice lowers and Adam has to strain even harder, leaning forward to not miss a single syllable. “The way Adam was when I found him-” 

“It’s all yours, J.” His mother said. “But that’s my baby too. So I get his heart.” In spite of the nature of the situation, a faint smile tugs at Adam’s face. He had been told before that he took after his mother; apparently they were right. Then he heard Paul’s voice, muffled and unintelligible, and the smile vanished as he shrank back. 

“Yeah, Paul, we’re coming.” His father called, loud enough to be heard in the back, and loud enough for Adam to hear easily. And as the door slid open, his mother’s voice, in a promise that would be terrifying if it was aimed at him, but as it was, carried a sense of security, of safety. 

“We’ll be right behind you.” 

And then the door slides closed. Adam lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding and eased away from the bannister. His fingers ached when he uncurled them. He glances behind him, and Kane is peering out the door to their parents’ room. 

“What was that about?” He asks, but Adam just shakes his head. 

“I dunno. I’m tired.” He slouches into the room, and as much as it’s a deflection, it’s the truth. He’s tired. No, he’s exhausted. His eyes ache and his head throbs and his shoulders feel so heavy he feels like he’ll collapse at any moment. 

“You still feel sick?” Kane asks, clambering up into the bed. Adam nods.

“Yeah. But I think I’ll be better soon.” 

“That’s good.” Kane says as they both make themselves comfortable under the old duvet (one Nana Tulip had embroidered herself, if Adam remembers right). “It’s always boring when you’re not feeling well.” Adam closed his eyes, pressing his face into the pillow even as he shifted closer to his brother. 

“Night, Kane.” He mumbles. 

“Night, Adam.” His little brother, his happy, healthy, safe little brother, replies, and it’s the last thing Adam hears before he starts nodding off - aside from some screams that might have been a coyote, if you didn’t listen closely enough. 

He’s not sure how long it’s been when he hears his parents enter the room. They’re trying to be quiet, and if he slept like he used to, they’d have succeeded. But he still has the world-weariness from the life he lived, so he peeks his eyes open as they approach. His mother sits on the bed first, sighs, then notices his stare and smiles. 

“Hey, baby.” She says, reaching down to stroke his hair. “You can get some sleep now, alright? You’re safe.” And somehow, somehow, he believes her. It might have something to do with the flecks of red on her teeth when she leans down to kiss his head - the same red he catches traces of under his father’s nails when a strong arm pulls him close. Whatever the reason, he feels safe - safer than he had in decades, even with the immense power he’d held. Regardless of the reason, he feels safe enough that this time when he sleeps, he sleeps heavily, and does not wake up until morning. And when he does wake, he’s still in his parents’ bed. And it is their bed. It still has the duvet his grandmother decorated, with the jewellery strand his father had made for his mother perched on the vanity. He’d been convinced he would wake up and find it all had been a dream, or hallucination - that it would vanish when he opened his eyes. That the other shoe would drop. 

But it didn’t. 

Every day, he would wake up and check his hands, check his face, check his surroundings. And every day, aside from the ordinary signs of time’s passing, he stayed the same. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. The other shoe never came. Eventually, he stopped waiting for it. Yes, he would still get dreams. Yes, some things still scared him more than they should. (He never truly reconciled with the smell of burnt meat.) But he carried less tension in his shoulders, he stopped thinking he would lose this new chance, he stopped worrying so much about the future. Somehow, this was just going to continue. Something about gift horses and mouths or whatever. But he was happy. 

He was happy. 

His days became too busy to worry about a forgotten past and a discarded future. Going to school (again, in some aspects, but for the first time as he grew older), tending the yard (under his parents, not alone), spending time with his brother… Taking care of the dog. They hadn’t had a dog before. But a few years after the fire should’ve happened, a stray mutt had shown up on their doorstep. Now the mutt - lovingly named Fish - was a fixture of the family. And now, years later, Fish was running around the yard, barking happily, while his humans sat about getting various graves dug, cleaned, or otherwise looked after. So it was that Adam found himself in a hole, six-by-eight-by-three, shovel in hand as he dug with his brother. They’d fallen into a steady rhythm, as well as a comfortable silence after the usual chatter had died down. (They didn’t have to bury that.) The weather, homework, the upcoming school dance (now that they were both in high school) and what to watch on TV before bed had all been discussed. Now they just worked. The sun beat down mercilessly and left sweat beading on their backs and dripping down their necks. Neither light clothing nor trying back their hair had helped any. There weren’t even any clouds to offer shade. But Mama had a fresh pitcher of home-made strawberry lemonade in the fridge waiting for them, and the thought of it was enough to spur them on. (Though Kane had asked a few times if Adam would cause a storm - just enough to block the sun. Adam had refused, though he was tempted to agree, now.) It was shaping up to be another usual day, until his brother almost bowled Adam over with one simple question. 

“Are Mom and Dad supposed to be dead?” Kane doesn’t look away from his hands, but Adam’s head snaps up.

“What?”

“I dunno. I get these… Dreams, sometimes. But they’re not dreams. They’re hazy, but they’re real.” Kane shakes his head as though he might dislodge those thoughts and find the answer underneath. Adam hopes he doesn’t notice how tense his shoulders are, how his breathing has quickened.

“And I feel like you know something you’re not telling me.” Here, Kane does look up. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything. We don’t do secrets.” Adam runs his tongue across his lips like that could change the dryness in his throat. He can’t look at Kane. Can’t stomach whatever he thinks he might see, so he looks anywhere else.

“Kane, I-”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been here, is it?” 

He could argue that it is. That before, he had never gotten this chance. The chance to watch his brother grow up, the chance to ease into their future as the caretakers. This was new. But that was not what Kane meant, and they both knew it. He sighs, closes his eyes, and lets his chin drop to his chest, gripping his own hand so tight the bones in his fingers creak.

“No.” The silence that follows the admission is infinite, an abyss, stretching out to swallow him whole. He wants to beg Kane not to hate him. That he’s sorry for what happened. That he’s worked hard, so hard, to leave that reality behind and just be happy for what they had now, their home, their family, their freedom, but those words don’t come. Much like his brother in a faded world, he cannot speak.

“Well,” Kane says after an era, “I don’t know how you did what you did, or- Really, I don’t even know what made you do it. But I’m glad you did.” That makes Adam open his eyes again. There’s a weight off his shoulders and an ache in his heart as he looks at his brother, his baby brother, his little brother who he had once sold his soul for (who he would sell his soul for again, should this life demand it). Kane isn’t looking at him, now, using his teeth to stretch a hair elastic over his fingers before he continues. “Like I said, it’s hazy. I don’t really understand it. But I get the feeling I wouldn’t’ve liked it much.” The absurdity of the thought, the wild understatement, makes Adam laugh. It’s quiet and surprised, but it’s still genuine.

“No,” he says, wiping his hand down his face and sniffing. “No, you wouldn’t’ve.” 

“So thanks.” Kane finishes tying his hair back and butts his shoulder against Adam’s, then bends to grab his shovel. He jams it into the earth, stomps it lower with his foot, and throws his reward back over his shoulder. Adam does the same. Once, twice, three times. He steals another glance at Kane, then frowns down at the dirt. 

“How much do you…” He trails off. ‘Remember’ isn't right. Kane shakes his head. 

“Not the word for it.” He agrees. Another shovelful of earth moved before he answers. “I dunno. It’s dark, mostly. Sometimes it’s the opposite - just blinding white. But it always feels like- Like I can’t move.” Adam grits his teeth and represses a shudder. Kane nods. “Yeah. And I wake up hungry some nights. Real hungry. And there’s this weird taste in my mouth I can’t place. It’s almost like the time we went to the Davids’ barbecue, and the burgers weren’t cooked all the way.” Adam grimaces. He has an idea about why that might be. He doesn’t say it, though. … He doesn’t need to. Kane coughs. 

“Please, please tell me there’s a different reason you’re thinking about rats.”

“I dunno for sure.” Adam says quickly. Judging by the pathetic look his brother gives him, it doesn’t make him feel any better. “I could be wrong.” Kane wretched and choked back a gag. 

“I hope you are.” He manages. Adam shrugs. Another moment where the silence is broken only by the sound of their shovels impaling the earth, the distant croak of ravens lounging on a tree somewhere overhead. 

“It’s the opposite for me.” Adam finally says. “It feels like every day, more and more of- ‘the other time’, it’s fading away. There are some things I still remember really well, but other parts… Ain’t nothing there anymore.” 

“Huh. Weird.” Kane mumbled. More silence, more work. At some point, they’d gotten close to being finished; just needed to sharpen up the corners. Take pride in the details, their parents had taught them. It’s the family business. It’s our reputation. Gotta do it right. It had been strange to relearn everything. It had been eye-opening to see how much he had missed. The little tricks he had never been taught. Even just having the extra hands helped more than he could say. There’s a dull chink as Kane’s shovel hits a rock. He frowned, stooped down, and dug the rock out with his hands. With a grunt, he heaved it out of the hole, then reached to pull in an armload of the dirt they’d removed and fill in the dent the rock had left. Adam shoved his own shovel into the dirt and wiped his forehead again. He was exhausted - from the work, yes, but from the conversation, too. Kane looked over at him again. 

“Can I ask one more thing?”

“Shoot.” Adam replied, even though he wished they’d never broached the concept. (On some level, he was glad that someone else knew the truth. Kane was right; they didn’t do secrets. And it made him feel less crazy. But he didn’t want to think too deeply about that, not now.) 

“How did they–”

“Boys!” There were few times his mother’s voice had been more of a mercy than it was now. 

“Yeah?” He and Kane call in unison. They look up just in time to see their parents approach the edge of the grave. They were silhouetted by the sun, but if Adam squinted, he could make out their faces. 

“It’s almost noon; we’re going inside.” Their father said, tilting his hat up. “Break time.”

“Come on, both of you, before you wear yourselves out.” Their mother crouched down, tilting her head with a smile. 

“Don’t gotta twist my leg.” Adam said. Their father reached down, and Adam accepted his hand as he clambered out of the grave. Kane was given the same help, and then, after dusting themselves off, they headed back to the home. Adam knew what his brother wanted to ask. He hoped he would never complete that question.

He hoped they would both forget before it ever came up again. 

Fish trotted up beside them, whuffing a greeting. Adam reached down to scratch his ears. Well, if it did come up, he would have to address it. For now, he could focus on living the (relatively) normal life he had been gifted. A normal life that included lunch breaks and lemonade with his family, and dinners together later in the night, and regular school, and homework, and weekends, and high school football games - kind of like this one. 

The whistle ran through the air, sharp and splitting. 

“Let’s go, get your warm up in!” Coach shouted. Across the field, Victoria’s coach was barking similar instructions at his players. Adam was aware of this because he’d been staring in that direction since they’d gotten off the bus. 

“Careful,” Kane said in between up-downs. “Look any harder and your eyes’ll fall outta your skull.”

“Shut up.” Adam grumbles. He strands and rolls his shoulders; a moment later, Kane stands with him and stretches his neck from side to side. 

“How do you know he’ll even be here?” He asked. “Everything’s so different now. Maybe he doesn’t play football anymore.” 

“I guessed.” Adam narrowed his eyes at the opposing team, searching for any hint of the person he was looking for. It was hard to make anything out. That was the point of a uniform, but it didn’t stop it from being annoying. Had he ever mentioned a number–?

“Hey, witchblood!” Chester’s voice. Adam and Kane rolled their eyes and turned in unison.

“What, Hanson?” They said. Chester knew them well enough to not be put off by this. He stopped a few steps away from them, helmet under his arm. The light breeze blew his fluffy blonde hair out around him, and he scrunched his face in annoyance as he pushed it back behind his ear. 

“Stop drooling over the enemy and get in position. Coach wants to give us a pep talk.” He says. He shoots one last glare towards the opposing team, one more glance at the brothers, and jogs back to where the rest of their schoolmates were gathering.

“Told you it was obvious.” Kane bumps his shoulder against Adam’s, who rolls his eyes and scoffs in return. 

“‘Drooling over the enemy’, shut up. Why’s he gotta be such a dipshit when he talks?” 

“Yeah, sure sounds like an asshole.” And the voice is younger, not as gravelly, but Adam would know it anywhere. He turns, shock melting to hope melting to a brilliant grin on his face. Pale blond hair, big blue eyes, a lopsided smile - that’s what greeted him. He reached for the person he’d been looking for, and his hand was accepted, held close, stroked with gentle movements of his forever’s thumb. 

“There you are, Cueball.” Any bite left in the insult was erased by the pure relief in Adam’s voice. He was greeted with a laugh, genuine as ever.

“Missed you, too, ya big dead bastard.” Steve Austin - Stevie Williams, toughest player on Victoria’s team - smiled back. “You too, little brother.”

“Oh, my god.” Kane said, letting his helmet hang at his side. “You had a bowl cut.” 

Of all the things that had changed, sometimes, it was those that stayed the same that reassured him. It reminded him that he wasn’t losing his mind. By now, most of what had been was gone. It had faded away - and he didn’t make any effort to think about it. Not before, not now, not ever. But even with so much of those memories leaving, he never forgot her. 

Coming here had been half his idea, half Steve’s. He’d been talking about her - he wasn’t even sure how she came up in the conversation - and how he wondered if she was okay. What she was like in this version of reality.

“Why not find out?” Steve had asked. It was a thought Adam had humoured more than once, but it had been different. He and Steve had still been married when whatever happened had happened. Adam and Kane’s parents had died. In each case, he knew how that story ended. He knew what happened to them. But Liz… He’d been the one who left her. In a way, she’d died because she met him. So, if he never met her, would she live longer? Would she get the chance to grow old like she deserved? (But what about his boy? What would happen to Jon? His son, his perfect boy who he had failed in a different world–)

“All you can do is try. You changed so much, why not change that?” And Steve had said it so confidently Adam couldn’t argue. Nor did he want to. (He missed her.)

And so he came to the coffee shop. He hadn’t been sure it was the right one until he stepped inside and got hit with the nostalgia. This was it. This was the place. … But he had no idea what the date had been when he’d first seen her. He’d been nineteen, that much he knew, but beyond that? He had no idea. So he’d become somewhat of a regular here. Whenever he went to the city, he’d stop for a coffee. Sometimes he’d bring Steve or Kane or both up just to pass time. Every visit would be at least thirty minutes, but he’d always try for longer, just in case. It had been a fluke meeting before. Fate, chance, whatever you would call it. Not something he could plan for. But he hoped for it. And that hope kept him coming back, time after time. This time was in June, about midway through the year. He’d come up to get some cosmetic supplies and a few replacement parts for the cremation oven (his parents had wondered, once, why he was so thorough in maintaining it, but had settled on it being good practice and leaving it at that), and he’d stopped in at the coffee shop for a full meal. He’d finished his sandwich already, and worked his way through two cookies (his treat to himself for surviving the Bywater funeral last week). Every time the door opened, he looked up, like he always did. Every time he looked up, he was disappointed, like he always was. She still wasn’t here. When had he met her-? He’d asked himself that so many times. He sighed, let his head drop in resignation. He downed the last dregs of his coffee and crumpled the sandwich and cookie wrappers into a ball. A quick glance to make sure he hadn’t left a mess before he made his way to the recycling. He stopped one last time, looked over his shoulder on the off chance he’d missed her. Still nothing. (He wondered if he would recognize her. If maybe he’d passed her a hundred times and the fading had taken her face from him–) The bell jangled as he pushed through the door. His Harley was where he left it, still gleaming from the last polish. Dark blue paint that he retouched when needed, the custom V-and-skull hood ornament Dad had made him for his birthday that year (difficult to get in all the nooks to clean, but worth it). And the saddlebags, black leather, sturdy and reliable. He crouched down, ignoring the gravel that tried to bite into the knee of his jeans. He just had to put his wallet away, and then he’d head home. Maybe he’d come back another day. Maybe he’d see if Anything Else knew where she might–

“Hey.” And that voice immediately sent a flush of calm through him, of security, even if he hadn’t been afraid, even if he hadn’t heard it in so long. “Cool bike.”

And he did what he could to keep the emotion off his face as he looked up at her and gave a nod.

“Thanks, nice to meet a fellow Harley fan. I’m Adam, by the way.”

[little-buzz]

Harmless Fun

This post is related to a previous one, but you don't have to read it to understand this drabble. Please let me know your thoughts‼️

Hazbin Hotel x Reader (platonic)

You passed the bar as Husk stared at a bottle in his hand. There were two googly eyes plastered to the glass. He let out a hiss and turned around to face you.

“Which one of you schmucks ruined my shit?” demanded Husk.

You held in a poorly stifled giggle and shrugged innocently. Nifty zipped in from the noise and examined the booze herself. She shook the bottle and watched as the eyes move side to side.

Husk caught your eye, glaring darkly at you. “You’re the only one here to pull this immature stunt!” he exclaimed.

You took a step back and held your hands out placatingly. “That’s not true. Angel might’ve done that.”

He growled and stomped towards you. You saw Charlie and Vaggie enter the room. You called out for the princess and quickly hid behind her.

“Husk is gonna kill me over false evidence!” you cried.

Said demon bared his sharp teeth, only a few inches from your princess shield. Vaggie glared at you in disapproval. Charlie smiled nervously at the demon.

“Hold on— what happened here?” asked Charlie.

Nifty appeared again and held the bottle towards her. Charlie did a better job to hold in a chuckle. “Husk thinks they ruined his alcohol,” said Nifty and gestured towards you.

She took the booze and easily peeled off the plastic eyes. “Problem solved, Husk!”

His sour expression didn’t change. “The little asshole stuck those things on my other bottles too,” he replied crossly.

Charlie turned her head towards you with a tired look. “Go remove the rest of them,” said the princess gently.

You balled your hands into fists. “But there’s no proof I—”

“Do what Charlie says,” warned Vaggie.

You wanted to argue, but you stomped to the bar instead, knowing you weren’t winning this fight. Husk smugly grinned as you walked away.

“Serves you right not to mess with my stuff.”

You glared at him and removed the eyes. “Since when is it a crime to have some harmless fun?”

“Oh, so you admit it!” cried Husk.

“Of course, old men like you hate practical jokes,” you murmured under your breath. Nifty reemerged and helped remove the googly eyes from the bottles.

Once you finished, you made your way to your bedroom. You were stopped in the hallway by Charlie. She approached you from behind with a gentle smile.

You crossed your arms. “I don’t want to hear a lecture about apologizing to Husk for what I did,” you huffed.

“No, I’m not gonna lecture you. I don’t think there was any foul in your prank,” said Charlie.

You arched your brow in response. “I don’t think Husk was the best person for your target though.”

You knew she had a point.

“Anyway, if you wanna pull a prank again, please run it by me. I don’t want my patrons to be attacking each other,” admitted Charlie.

You blinked before your lips cracked into a smile. Ideas began to spark in your mind. You walked down the hallway and headed towards your bedroom with newfound determination.

[daytaker]

Congrats on 250 followers! ^_^ Could you do the 'only one bed' trope with Lucifer?

At long last, I come bearing a drabble. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

The Puppetmaster

Ship: Lucifer/Reader Genre: Humor and fluff Word Count: 825 CW: Dubcon but it's cuddling? Also (joking) mentions of peeing as a kink. I'm sorry I'm like this.

[Part of my 250 Followers Mini Event!]

You were suspicious from the start, because it wasn’t like Lucifer not to plan ahead.

Now, you’re not even suspicious. There was no way that Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, would be spooning you if he didn’t absolutely intend to. His brothers? You could buy any of them claiming they just grabbed onto you in their sleep, or at least accept the room for reasonable doubt. But Lucifer? Never. Not in a thousand years. This was intentional. This was premeditated. This was planned.

You should have known this was going to happen.

You did know, actually. You would have been fully prepared if not for the mind tricks of Lucifer, the all-seeing Puppetmaster.

“Unfortunately, it seems like our accommodations tonight will be lacking in one respect.” Lucifer nodded apologetically to you as you made your way to the hotel room you’d be cooped up in until morning. He unlocked the door, and the moment you stepped inside, you saw the problem: the single queen-size bed, and nary so much as a sofa to serve as a substitute.

“It’s…fine,” you’d said, trying to brush it off as insignificant, even as your instincts began whispering to you that something was amiss. “It’s just for one night, and I trust you not to pull anything weird.”

Lucifer smiled at you when you said that. Not a kind, appreciative smile. No, it was the smile of the wise man humoring the fool. It made you uneasy.

“...Lucifer,” you said in a warning tone you normally reserved for Mammon.

“Hm? What is it?” He was taking his pajamas out of his suitcase, and his voice and expression were so nonchalant—dull, even—that you started to second guess yourself on that look you thought he gave you.

“Uh… I was just going to ask to use the bathroom before you step in to change,” you said, thinking to yourself what a nice save that was. Lucifer bowed his head and politely gestured for you to proceed.

…Oh, he would gaslight you into thinking you hadn’t seen anything, all to serve his twisted, demonic ends of cuddling you when you least expected it, at a time when you’d wake up, dazed and with a full bladder and no escape in sight. In fact, he probably made that initial, wolfish expression for the exact purpose of then playing innocent so convincingly that you’d stop suspecting him. He was just playing mind games with you at this point. He was toying with you.

As the two of you climbed into bed for the night, you each kept respectfully to your own sides. After a brief and awkward goodnight, he turned off the light, and you laid awake and stared at the ceiling.

Why…was there just one bed?

The question wouldn’t stop nagging at you.

Lucifer didn’t book this room in advance. The circumstances that led you here were unexpected delays that meant you couldn’t make it home at a reasonable hour. But… But…

Would Lucifer allow this to happen if he didn’t want it to? No! Absolutely not! Lucifer normally would have taken the chance of delays into account in his travel plans. He would have been prepared for this eventuality.

More than that though. In what sane world would Lucifer allow himself to be subjected to the humiliation of sharing a bed with you for any reason that didn’t include his deliberate, conscious choice? In which case, what was he pulling right now? You didn’t really think he was going to attempt anything truly nefarious, but your unease didn’t go away.

Nor should it have.

It’s about five o’clock in the morning, you need to pee, and you’re being prevented from making a smooth escape to the bathroom by Pride himself. The Machiavellian bastard. The way he played you like a fiddle. 

Maybe you should just let it out. Maybe that would teach him. 

But what if he knows about that too? What if this is all playing into his hand? He’s not into that, is he? What if he is? What if this entire scenario was orchestrated carefully from the beginning to get you to this point, where you’re trapped in his arms and feeling spiteful enough to wet the bed?

You feel a huff of breath behind your ear, then you hear the low pitched grunt of a baritone-voiced demon waking up.

“Lucifer!” you hiss.

“Mm?” He releases you, stretching his arms over his head calmly. “Good morning. Did you rest well?”

“Why were you hugging me?” You shoot an accusatory glare at him. You know about the piss kink. You have your ammunition locked and loaded.

“Because you’re lovely and warm, and I enjoyed the proximity. I hope I didn’t offend you.” He meets your gaze with an expression of such good-natured and genuine affection that your heart almost comes unmoored.

It’s a masterstroke. You have been defeated. Red-faced and groaning, you slip out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom.

[attic-club-sandwich]

Summary: MC wakes one night to a familiar problem. Someone else is also awake at that hour and he comes to comfort them. A short drabble about MC getting their period for the first time since regaining their human form in the Devildom

Beelzebub x afab!MC

CW: MC has a vagina and menstruates. Period content. Blood Mentions.

A/N: Everyone's favorite glutton, Beelzebub is up next! I love him with my entire being. Maybe i'm biased, but this one turned out so cute. I hope you all enjoy as well! By the way, the fact about the dark chocolate is true. It's rich in magnesium so it helps to ease aches and relax the muscles! Next will be Belphie, and i can hardly wait to write our sleepy cow boy.

Masterlist

Only Human

The light of your D.D.D faintly lit up your bedroom as you played one of the new app games that Levi had begged you to download. You were trying to distract yourself from the cramping in your abdomen that had been keeping you up for most of the night. You sighed as you glanced at the time in the upper corner of the screen. It read 1:45am. Groaning, you shoved your blankets aside and crawled out of bed to head towards your bathroom.

You had been putting it off all night because you knew that you had no pain relief available to take or even the hygiene products you were in desperate need of. However, staring into the empty cabinets would make the thought you had been dreading a reality. You wobbled into the bathroom, and yanked open the cabinet door above the sink. Just as you expected, it was completely barren. Shit. Of course, this was to be expected from the 7 male demons that you resided with as they weren’t quite used to a human living with them. The time you spent as a sheep early on in your stay had thrown them all off guard and even yourself had forgotten about a few specific things when you returned to your human form.

You ran your fingers through your hair, as you tried to think of what to do next. Should I wake someone? No. That would be rude. It’s not like I'm dying. You thought, stubbornly as a wave of cramps hit you. Okay I take that back. Maybe I am dying. Slowly, you made your way back into your bedroom and pulled on a pair of pajama pants. You sat down on the edge of your bed, arms clutching your lower stomach. Suddenly, you had an idea. You had read that chocolate, specifically dark chocolate, serves as a natural pain relief when it comes to cramps. You perked up as you remembered that Beel had brought you home a chocolate dessert from Madam Scream’s earlier that day. You weren’t sure if it was dark chocolate, but it was worth a shot. Jumping up, you grabbed your D.D.D and headed for the kitchen. 

You walked quietly through the hallway, clutching your phone to your chest. The last thing you wanted was to wake everyone up and be alerted of your situation. After what felt like an eternity of walking, you reached the kitchen and pushed open the heavy swinging doors. They squeaked loudly as they opened, and you winced. You paused for a moment, listening carefully for any stirring in the house. After a few moments of silence, you decided the coast was clear and continued on into the kitchen to head for the fridge. You opened the fridge door, and began to scan the shelves inside for the box of dessert that Beel had bought for you. Surely he didn’t eat it, did he? He’d feel so bad for eating a dessert that he bought for me… You were too concentrated on locating the dessert that you didn’t hear your D.D.D go off from over on the kitchen counter. You finally found the box, and carried it over to the counter when you noticed your D.D.D lighting up. 

I heard something in the kitchen just now. Was that you?

Are you getting a midnight snack? 

……

Can I join you?

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the message from Beel himself. He must have heard the doors, you thought. Being a demon, his hearing is a lot more sensitive compared to a human’s. You were in the middle of typing out your response when you heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. Spinning around so your back was leaning against the counter, you met Beel’s gaze as he appeared through the doors. His orange hair was messy, and he wore a pair of maroon sweatpants and a black tank top which showed off his muscular arms. “Ah, so it was you.” he said, smiling. You offered him a weak smile back, unable to help yourself from staring. “Caught red handed, I guess.” you said, peeling your stare away from him and glancing at the dessert box on the counter. Beel chuckled, making his way over to you. “I’m the last person to judge you for midnight snacking, it’s okay MC.” You were about to respond when another intense wave of cramps took over, and you found yourself sliding down the side of the kitchen counter and onto the floor. “M-MC! Are you okay?” Beel said, rushing to your side. As he got closer, he noticed the strong scent of blood coming from your direction. “Y-You smell like blood…are you hurt?? I’m confused…” Your eyes squeezed shut as you focused on your breathing. What?! He can smell blood?! You covered your now burning face with your hands. “I-I’m fine…it’s really no big deal…” you mumbled, trying to conceal your internal panicking. Beel’s purple eyes darkened with concern. “You don’t have to lie to me, MC.” You opened your eyes again, slowly meeting his gaze. “Okay fine, I um…I got my period…and I read that chocolate helps with the cramps…so I came down to eat the dessert you had gotten me…” The 6th born’s eyes widened as he processed what you had said. “Oh, I see.” he glanced down at his feet as he rubbed the back of his head. “I only know of what Belphie has told me about humans, and this is something he’s mentioned before. Is there any way I can help?” You smiled softly. You could tell how much he was concerned about you. “Well… if you want to help me eat this dessert…?” you offered. Beel glanced back up at you, surprised. “What? Are you sure?” he asked. You nodded, “Of course, I want to share it with you.” Beel’s mouth turned up into the biggest smile you’ve seen yet as he helped you up to your feet. “Thank you, MC. I’ll get some plates and forks.” 

The two of you sat across from each other as you shared the delicious, chocolatey dessert. Beel held out his own fork, offering you the first bite. You took it, and practically moaned as you tasted the richness of the chocolate as it melted on your tongue. Beel chuckled, his face turning a light shade of pink. “I’m glad you are enjoying it.” You both sat in silence for a few moments as you continued to enjoy the pastry together. “Is there anything else you need, MC?” Beel asked, breaking the silence. As you finished up the last bite of cake, you glanced down at your lap. “I’m not sure if any of you would have any, but I really need some pads or tampons…and some painkillers.” Beel hummed as he thought for a moment. “I don’t think so, but I can go get you anything you need. Places are open all night here in the Devildom.” You smiled, nodding graciously. “Yes, please. Thank you Beel.” Beel stood up and placed their plates and forks into the sink. “Of course, just tell me what you need.” You notice your cramps have settled slightly, and you finally began to yawn. Beel glanced at you as he washed up the dishes. “Are you tired now?” he asked. You nodded, resting your chin on your hand. Beel finished up washing the dishes, and made his way over to your side. You felt strong arms wrap around you and all of a sudden you were being carried bridal style through the kitchen. “B-Beel!” you squeaked. “Shh, it’s okay. Let’s get you back to bed.” You accepted your fate and began to relax in his arms. The gentle swaying from him carrying you down the hall was almost enough to lull you right to sleep. You expected him to stop at your room, but was surprised when he continued down the hallway to head in the direction of his bedroom. “Uh, Beel. My room is back there.” You said, quietly. He squeezed you tighter to his chest. “I know, but Belphie is in the attic tonight and my bed is bigger and comfier.” You giggled, not expecting to be kidnapped by The Avatar of Gluttony tonight. As he entered his bedroom, he walked over and gently placed you down onto his bed and pulled his covers up to tuck you in. You instantly relaxed as you breathed in his scent from the blankets. He hesitated before placing a light kiss to your forehead. “You stay here, okay? I’m going to run into town for your things.” He said, softly. Your head was spinning from the kiss, but you nodded your head. “T-Thank you Beel…” You murmured, nestling into the covers. “I’ll be right back. Then we can cuddle all night long.”

[shit-enmu-says]

Phantasmagoria: Part 1

Note: A couple weeks ago I posted an excerpt from a drabble I’m writing about the events leading up to Enmu becoming a demon. I intentionally left certain things vague which will be brought to light later on. I intended to portray Enmu as having been through someone with his fair share of struggles while still keeping his dubious morality and lack of empathy intact. No title for this yet. Titles are hard.

Part 1

Scattered notes and open books littered Dr. Tamio’s work desk. The man himself was slumped over a large notebook, glasses askew. His eyes had dark shadows beneath them like bruises. His chin length hair was lank from going just a bit too long without being washed. A few stray locks had fallen out of place, plastered to his forehead from sweat. A sharp knock at the door jolted him from slumber. He twitched and shot straight up in his chair, a page of his notes stuck to the side of his face.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing in here?”

The door creaked open to reveal an older man with grey-streaked hair pulled into a low ponytail. Were it not for how time had harshened his once youthful features, he and Enmu would have been near identical. Ayumu Tamio was Enmu’s older brother by fifteen years and the only surviving family he had left.

Enmu blinked slowly as his brother’s face swam into view and straightened his glasses. “Ah Ayumu-san,” Enmu said, “I was just studying, that’s all.”

“Really? Because it looks like you were slacking off,” Ayumu said, folding his arms. His brother had raised him from the time Enmu was six, more of a parental figure to him than a sibling. Though only in his early forties Ayumu’s health was failing him, forcing him into early retirement. Enmu had been training to replace him since his early twenties. It was only for the past year he’d truly began taking over Ayumu’s position, though his brother still frequented the place at times to oversee things.

“I gave you a position here because I thought you could handle it. You better start pulling your weight around here if you want me to tolerate your eccentricities.”

Enmu frowned and straightened up his notes, scattered around the desk. He fully intended on studying but passed out. His nightmares were back, the ones so uncomfortably vivid he often thought they actually happened. They always came back when he was under stress. When he awoke he scarcely felt rested at all.

Really Ayumu did him a favor waking him from that. Visions of dark shadows with clawed hands following him through the woods behind the house he and his brother shared were still fresh in his mind.

“There’s something I need you to look at,” Ayumu said.

“It is still early in the day,” Enmu spoke carefully. Ayumu demanded absolute obedience even now. It was best not to upset him. “Someone else may show up for an appointment.”

“That can wait,” his brother replied, “There is a far more urgent matter at hand.”

Enmu frowned as he stood up and pushed in his chair. It must be serious for him to call him away from his office like this. A loud knocking came from the front of the building, loud enough to make him stumble back. “May I see who’s knocking first?” Enmu asked, “They seem a bit impatient.”

Ayumu’s expression darkened. “What are you going on about?” he snapped. “That knocking just now at the front door,” Enmu said.

His brother fixed him with a cold, unblinking stare. “No one knocked, Enmu,” he said, “If that is happening again how could you possibly handle this position?”

Enmu froze. Again? He hasn’t experienced problems like these for ages. Why now? He couldn’t afford to slip up now no matter what. Especially not with what he was trying to pull off when he took Ayumu’s place as head of the family business. He breathed in slowly, allowing his expression to shift into a polite smile. “Pardon me,” he said, “It appears my little joke was in poor taste.” It wasn’t much of an excuse, but at least he didn’t sound like a madman.

“Damn it, Enmu,” Ayumu swore, “Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to deal with the consequences of your delusions when you were younger? Don’t let me catch you making light of such things again.”

Enmu stared at the ground, unable to meet his gaze. At least he bought the story but did he really have to bring those dark, dark days up again? He wouldn’t be able to keep making excuses for himself though. He had to get this under control or the results could be potentially catastrophic.

“My apologies,” he replied, bowing his head. “Now just what was it you wanted to show me?”

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x8 Think Lovely Thoughts

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 620

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They had a plan.

Thanks to Tink, they knew where to find Pan’s camp.  Thanks to Regina, Rumple and herself, they had all the magical fire power they could possibly want, and thanks to Hook and her parents (and she supposed Neal, although she’d never thought of him in this way), a hefty dose of non-magical firepower as well.  

And, of course, thanks to the shadow, they had a way off the island and back home.

For the first time in six days, the unrelenting vise of anxiety around her heart began to loosen.

But as her biggest fear was, well, though not exactly relieved, at least greatly lessened, other concerns began to rise to the surface.

Her parents were stuck on this island.  Forever.

Emma refused, flatly refused, to accept that.  She had finally, finally found her family, and she’d be damned before she lost a single one of them again.  There had to be a way.

As they’d begun their trek through the jungle toward Pan’s camp early that morning, she’d approached her mother, hoping between the two of them they could come up with a plan to circumvent the dreamshade/Neverland water problem, but to her shock, her mother had serenely informed her that she’d accepted her fate; that there was nothing more to do.

Emma couldn’t prevent the quick stab of pain that response had caused.  She knew her parents hadn’t chosen this, that this wasn’t what they wanted, but the little orphaned, abandoned girl inside of her couldn’t help but feel as though she was being cast aside yet again.  That being with her wasn’t worth fighting for.

She knew it was irrational.  After all, time wasn’t on their side.  With any luck, they’d have Henry back within the hour, and then the sooner they left the island, the better for all of their safety.

Still, she wanted her parents to fight for a solution, fight for her.

Emma squared her shoulders.  If they weren’t going to fight for the family, she damn well was.  She’d find a solution, and she knew exactly where to start.

With the only other person on this island who knew what it was like to lose a loved one to dreamshade poisoning.

Hook had kept his distance since the whole lighter fiasco, and in particular, since she’d told him and Neal off for their behavior, and if she were truly honest with herself, she missed his constant presence, his quick wit and his teasing flirtations.  They’d somehow buoyed her spirits throughout the last, interminable week, and the boost his ever-present confidence in her gave had kept her going when despair threatened to overwhelm her.

But even if his pride was stung at her tongue lashing–or he was giving her the space he thought she wanted–she knew with absolute certainty he’d help her with her dreamshade problem if there was anything in his power he could do.

The other night, he’d told her about his brother–his poisoning, Pan’s “help” in restoring his health, and then his ultimate demise aboard Hook’s ship.  Despite the fact that it had to be decades–centuries even–since it happened, Hook’s voice still held such a deep weight of pain and grief as he recounted the tale.  It made her heart break for him (and it added an extra layer of white-hot fury toward Pan.  Trust the little demon to give Hook a part of the truth, but withhold the most crucial bit!), and she hesitated to bring it all back up again, but she was truly desperate.

Taking a deep breath, Emma picked up her pace, spying Hook at the front of their company.

She couldn’t lose her family again, and Hook was her only hope.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[neo-lucien]

Very smol drabble this time, just something that’s been on my mind ehe. If you want a part two lmk. I recommend listening to Softcore by The Neighborhood while reading this :3

Softcore

The silence was deafening, like the flash of lightning right before thunder struck. It was the kind of silence that only seemed to happen when you neared death, when everything else slowed down, down, down, almost appearing to be completely still. It wasn’t quite like life was flashing before my eyes, but like my life itself stood apart from me, growing impossibly further, further, further away. A kiss, so gentle and tender to cradle my glass-like stupor as to not harm me. And then it befell me.

The thunderous cracking of breaking down.

I don’t want to play this part, but I do, all for you.

I’d known since the beginning it was doomed. He was enamored with his duties, I was enamored with him, even despite knowing it was for nothing. Yet when he was here, with me, it were as though I were his only muse, the melody of his life, the spark that set his heart ablaze. I’d be the one to guide him through every dark night, to protect him from the demons that plagued his mind. And then he’d be gone again, and I’d be home alone, left with only the memory of his laughter in the halls and my thoughts.

Are we too young for this? It feels like I can’t move.

Loving Kyojuro began to feel more like my duty, and then the thought of not being with him pained me even more than the thought of staying with him. Confusion became my personal demon, stuck between the adoration I felt for my darling Kyo and how to deal with the growing barrier between us both. Soon, sharing my heart started to tear me apart. The halls grew cold, cold, colder when he was gone, and never seemed to get as warm when he’d come back.

The laughter in the halls disappeared, and in its stead would be the image of the back of his robe as he left. He would try, occasionally, to fix things, and behave as though nothing were wrong, yet he never seemed to quite understand the actual problem itself. I yearned for his presence when he was away, yet craved space lest I break when he was around. It was like living with a stranger, like I was sharing my life with someone I barely knew anymore. The bed felt like being stranded in the middle of the ocean; in a bottomless space with no sign of life for miles and miles.

Shadows danced across the walls, like my own personal demons to taunt me. Even when I closed my eyes, I could still see them, and I could hear their mocking laughter. I needed my sun to burn them away, to cast away the shadows with his radiance, but I knew I’d become too drained if he stayed too long. The confusion of not knowing anymore whether I still loved him or loved the thought of him plagued me and kept me dancing eternally around the bonfire. The front door creaked open, I could faintly hear it as I lay in bed, yet I stay in my spot, remaining still with my eyes closed.

I could hear the sound of his familiar footsteps, trudging closer and closer to the bedroom. It opened slowly, then stopped. It was quiet, then, as I lay there, waiting. For what, I didn’t know, but I stayed still, eyes gently shut. And then his footsteps came closer, closer, closer, till I could sense him looming over me. I could feel his gaze on me as he crouched down, and felt the familiar sensation of his fingers running through my hair. He was quiet, still, as he continued to watch me, fingers moving to gently trace the outlines of my features. And then he spoke, quietly, like what he was saying was a secret.

“How much I love you, my dear flame… For you, I’d fight the world, again and again, if it meant keeping you at my side.”

I can hear the sound of breaking down.

[contreparry]

Happy Friday!! A prompt for you: "“For once, this isn’t actually my fault.”" Happy writing <3

This has been an idea I’ve turned over in my head for ages, but I haven’t figured out how to go about it. So why not play with the idea in a drabble? So here’s some fairytale hijinks with Inquisitor Trevelyan and Cullen, for @dadrunkwriting !

Cullen never quite knew what to expect from his new traveling companion. He was used to traveling alone with nothing but his horse for company as he rode from town to town in the backwoods of Ferelden, taking up odd jobs and slaying demons that lurked in the shadows of the abandoned places of the world. Silence was his life, solitude his constant companion. That is, until he came across Evelyn Trevelyan in the wilderness.

She was quiet, courteous, and surprisingly useful. No matter the weather he could count on a roaring fire at camp and a handful of scavenged fruits and nuts to supplement his lean meals, which made his normally spare travels across the realm a little more luxurious. Evelyn was resourceful, and her perspective during their travels was helpful. Never mind her resources! How she made so many friends across Thedas Cullen couldn’t say, but he was grateful for her contacts. Evelyn’s friends saved their skins more times than he could count.

Speaking of help arriving from unexpected places fight- well. Who would have thought that such a tiny thing could pack such power behind her spells? Cullen swiftly learned to heed his companion’s warnings in battle, for when she screamed for him to duck a bolt of lightning or a spear of ice was sure to follow. Evelyn’s healing talents were less impressive, true, but she had a knowledge of herbal remedies that was almost frightening in its depth. One sniff of a plant and she was gone, reciting all its myriad uses as she gleefully wrestled her prizes into a leather pouch for him to store in his saddlebags.

And for all of this, his traveling companion required so little in return. She only asked for his sword in a fight, a spot on his horse as they traveled, and his companionship in the darkest hours of their journey. After all, she’d squeak cheerfully, the world isn’t very kind to a field mouse!

Not that traveling with a talking field mouse who also happened to be a Mage was all sunshine and rainbows, Cullen thought as he closed the door behind him. The inn they were staying in was peaceful, a cheerful little place with plenty of travelers and little trouble. It was where they were supposed to meet one of Evelyn’s many contacts, but the man was late. She hadn’t been concerned at first, insisting that her friend had a tendency for dramatic entrances, but as the sun fell and the fire died in the main fireplace, they had to eventually return to their room without meeting Evelyn’s “dear friend.” It was a complete waste of time, that was what this was! Cullen itched with the urge to do something, anything, that wasn’t staying in one place and waiting! But Evelyn’s friend was their best lead in their hunt for an ancient wizard whose magic had some hand in the problems that plagued the land, so he would have to be patient.

Patience was not one of Cullen’s virtues.

“For once this isn’t actually my fault,” Evelyn insisted when the door firmly shut behind them. Evelyn emerged from the hood of his cloak and clung to his shoulder for purchase. Cullen lowered his arm to rest his hand on the nightstand by the bed, and Evelyn quickly scurried down to stand by the tin candle holder and stub of a candle. Her whiskers bristled indignantly as she placed her front paws on her hips, and her tail lashed back and forth behind her like a blade.

“It’s not like him to break a promise, or an appointment. He’s ever been a dutiful writer, you know. Never late with his letters,” Evelyn fretted. Her paws took up the hem of her moss colored cloak and worried at the threads. She began to pace, almost shaking in agitation. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who was restless here. Cullen sat down on the straw mattress in the bed and rested his forearms on his thighs. He raised his gaze to the nightstand and watched Evelyn pace and mutter. The mouse was nearly vibrating with intensity as she trekked back and forth across the nightstand, and Cullen felt his frustrations melt away in the face of Evelyn’s tumultuous emotions. He was frustrated by a wasted day, but she was concerned over the fate of her friend.

“… what could have delayed him, I wonder,” Cullen eventually mused. The wilds of Ferelden weren’t particularly kind, but if one remained on the roads it was safe enough. But safe enough wasn’t safe, and for a lone traveller on the road the dangers only multiplied.

“Weather, maybe? Maker’s Breath, if Dorian ended up drunk at some noble’s country estate I’ll strangle him myself,” Evelyn muttered, her tail whipping around as she turned on her heel. “He said he’d take better care of himself, he promised me!”

“You’re close, then?”

“Close as one can be when you haven’t met in person,” Evelyn replied. “We’ve been writing letters for nearly two years now, ever since I- hggkkghhhk!” Her chatter was abruptly cut off as some sort of invisible binding clamped down on the mouse’s throat.

It was, as far as Cullen could decipher, an unfortunate side effect of the curse she was under, one that was cast upon her by the wizard they now hunted. It was a sick thing to experiment on a helpless creature, he thought grimly as he poured a few drops of water into a clean thimble for Evelyn to drink from once her coughing fit subsided. What kind of sick bastard cursed a mouse with human speech and magic, then cursed her to keep her mouth shut about the matter? Evelyn grasped the thimble with her paws and drank greedily.

“Better?” he asked. She nodded, her expression grim.

“Blast and drat,” she muttered. “When I get my hands on that-“ Evelyn clamped her mouth shut and said no more. Cullen sighed and bent over to unlace his boots.

“Get some rest,” he advised. “Mayhaps your friend will arrive in the morning.”

“… and if he doesn’t?” Evelyn asked. Her voice was scratchy, as if the curse laid upon her injured her throat in retaliation for her defiance, and anger simmered in his gut. Damn wizards, Cullen thought as Evelyn sipped her water, her moss cloak drawn tight.

“If he doesn’t, we’ll look for him,” Cullen promised. “You said he wouldn’t be far. We can spare a day or two.” And he would. He’d find a damn week if that was what they needed in their search for the wizard that was tearing apart the Fade and cursing the unfortunate wildlife he came across in the process. Evelyn sighed and crawled into the old tin matchbox that served as her bed.

“Good night, Cullen,” she mumbled. Cullen leaned back and stared up at the smoke-stained beams that held up the ceiling. He could only imagine the scenarios running through Evelyn’s mind, situations in which her friend was in danger, or dead, or something even worse. The world was unkind, this they knew well, and if her friend’s delay wasn’t the result of some careless carousing or a natural mishap on the road… Cullen leaned over and blew out the candle on the nightstand. Those worries would have to be tomorrow’s worries. For now…

“Good night, Evelyn,” he murmured into the darkness, and he hoped that all his fears would prove unfounded in the morning.

[thekatebridgerton]

Omg that AU is so good? Are you planning to write it? Please tell us more?

If you're Referring to my Halloween themed drabble found In this Link 

I most likely will not write because I just wanted to make something Halloween themed for fun and have an excuse to turn Anthony into a vampire. But Just for you Anon I’ll go ahead and tell you how it ends so you don’t stay wondering about it (please excuse all the plot holes): 

So, the plot twist is that the Bridgerton family were originally a very powerful witch coven in Regency England. So were the Featheringtons.

Anthony story is that he fell inlove with one of Kate's ancestors, a young woman named Kate Sheffield who died of pneumonia before Anthony could properly court her and he swore never to fall in love again. 

The Bridgertons were all were living a pretty decent life until Gregory got into a turf war with another witch coven because of Hermione Watson. Gregory was murdered in Bridgerton house and the Bridgertons unable to accept it pooled all their considerable witch powers into a big spell to revive him.

The spell sadly required a sacrifice of true love to be completed, and since none of the Bridgertons had true love, the magic went out of control and their powers backfired on them, cursing the family and the house with it.

Anthony being the eldest and most powerful was turned into a bloodsucking immortal monster, Colin's powers were drained so much he fell into a thousand year coma, and as the second most powerful, Eloise's dark magic sucked her into the netherworld and bound her to the land of the dead, Francesca became a siren forever tied to the river where Gregory last saw his lover and Daphne was cursed to cry eternally at his grave, meanwhile the backfiring magic consumed Benedict to the bone leaving Anthony no choice but to mummyfy him. Hyacinth, the weakest of the family was trapped in the form of a porcelain doll and Gregory, who couldn't complete the revival ritual got stuck as a ghost between life and death.

To prevent the world from hurting his siblings Anthony asked Felicity Featherington to cast a boundary spell on the mansion that would keep them safe while he searched for a way to break the spell. The boundary spell had the side effect of automatically evicting people with hostile intentions towards the Bridgertons so that's how the haunted house legend began.

Since Penelope is the first female Featherington after Felicity to awaken any witch powers, as soon as she entered Bridgerton house, her dormant magic woke Colin up from his thousand year slumber and he immediately sought her out to teach her magic and see if she can recreate one of Felicity’s spells.

Anthony who has controlled his bloodlust for a thousand plus years begins having problems when Kate Sharma's blood starts driving him crazy. It doesn't help that she's a descendant of the only woman he ever thought about proposing to.

Benedict on the other hand has spent most of his time as a mummy astral projecting into the outside world and met Sophie quite randomly in her dreams when she was younger, he's almost glad that she discovered his sarcophagus until he realizes that what was very real for him while astral projecting, are only silly dreams to Sophie. 

The point is that the spell is completed once the Bridgertons find true love okay. So basically Gregory finishes his revival process when he realizes that he loves Lucy and she loves him. Despite being the ten times great grandaughter of the guy who murdered him. He’s willing to give up everything to be with her.  

Anthony goes from vampire to warlock the moment he confesses his love to Kate. Likewise when they find true love Colin regains his powers, Francesca loses her finn and finally comes out of the lake, Daphne turns corporeal and  kisses Simon, Eloise loses the demon markings in her body and Benedict takes off his bandages to reveal he's no longer a skeleton and Hyacinth also goes from porcelain doll to  teenage witch. 

There was also supposed to be a big bad capitalist trifecta behind the murders happening around Bridgerton house that were a mix of Lucy’s uncle, Gareth’s dad and Simon’s dad.

Also as a postcript they find out that there really is a treasure in the house, which is just some random jewels that Anthony left in the safe of the basement for emergencies. But Since Anthony is a vampire and has been alive long enough to invest his money into companies like Apple and Tesla, the treasure in the basement is basically pocket change for the Bridgertons.  

The reason I’m not writing it is because it would take me a lot of work to figure out the minor details of this story and it would be long to write. I mean it looks long to me. But at least now you know where it was heading originally. 

Hope this answered your question Anon. 

[brothersgrim]

OLD MEMES JAY IS FINALLY ANSWERING

@lunarruled asked: "Drabble" - Style for both boys! 

The mirror in front of him is brilliantly, flawlessly clean. His reflection stares back at him, perfectly mimicking his every move. 

That’s good. 

It means it’s behaving. There’s another reflection beside his, and it’s behaving, too. It’s his little brother’s face. And that face is very focused on trying to make him laugh. 

“Knock it off, Kane.” Adam says, trying and failing to pretend he’s not grinning. Kane looks over at him, cheeks still puffed up and tongue still poking out. He stared at Adam. Adam stared at him. Kane released all of his breath in a raspberry. Adam didn’t bother to hide his laughter. 

“You’re so weird.” He said, knocking his shoulder against Kane’s. Kane grinned broadly in response. 

“Get it from you.” He says, and Adam rolls his eyes again. He turns his attention back to the mirror, adjusting his collar again. It’s a common ritual for the both of them, making sure they looked ‘like proper hosts’ in their shared bathroom while Mama and Papa got ready in theirs. Their parents would be here in just a moment. That’s when the More Important Fussing would happen. For now, though, they were left on their own to get their faces washed, teeth brushed, and hair combed. The basics. 

“How many people are coming today?” Kane asked, scrunching his face and tilting his head as he adjusted his hair. “I forget.” 

“It’s Mr. Tucker.” Adam said, leaning into the sink to give his face one last inspection. “And he didn't have kids. But he was working in the church a lot.” Kane hummed a note and nodded. 

“So a whole bunch of old people.” He said. Adam nodded as well. 

“Probably.” 

“‘S good money.”  Kane said and Adam nodded again. 

“Might be able to get you that new bike.” Adam said. He hopped off his stool and away from the sink.

“Boys!” Papa’s voice came from the hall. They both turned to look in unison. “You ready?” 

“Yes, sir.” They chorused. The door opened, revealing their parents in equally formal, equally black attire. 

“Let’s have a look at you.” Mama said, and Papa moved out of the way to give her a better view. She knelt down. Adam stepped forward first, and was pulled into a warm, smooshy hug before being held at arm's length. Mama pursed her lips in thought, licked her thumb, and smoothed it over Adam’s eyebrow. 

“There we are.” She gave an approving nod. “You're such a handsome young man, Addie.” 

“Am I handsome too, Mama?” Kane asked, standing on his toes to stick his head over Adam’s shoulder. Mama laughed and moved aside to let Adam step into the hall. 

“Of course you are, baby.” She said. Kane beamed in response. Mama took a minute to sort out his hair, then gave his shoulders an approving squeeze. “All set.” She said, stepping back and smiling. 

“We ready?” Papa asked, hooking his thumbs in his belt. Mama smiled and nodded at him. 

“We’re ready.” She agreed. She ran her fingers through the ends of her hair and took hold of Papa’s hand. “Let's go. Time to go do the finishing touches before people start showing up.”

[undertaker1827]

Hello! I hope you're doing well! I wanted to request a headcanon or drabble (it's up to you, you can do which one is easier for you) if it's not a problem and it may be 2 parts cause I want to detail it so it would be much easier to write. Okay here is my request, it's about a reader Sebastian's and Ciel's s/o ( can you write them separately), who is so ambitious and cunning, they are obsessed about being perfect, they are an art student, they even burned one of their paintings.

I am thank you, hope you are too! I did headcanons for this one, hope you enjoy!

❗️Warnings; alcohol, and Ciel is 18+ for obvious reasons 

Masterlist

-

Sebastian 

Sebastian had a good idea of what had happened as soon as he went through the mirror, just in time to see you knock your head against the counter

He was by your side in moments, albeit it with a raised eyebrow that you had decided to drown your sorrows in drink

He made sure you were alright first, moving you onto your back and holding your head steady

He reached over the flick the music off, clicking his tongue ever so slightly as he did so

You were back in all of a few seconds, eyes blinking slowly as consciousness started to fade back into your senses

Your words were slurred as you tried to pronounce Sebastian’s name, not yet awake enough to be confused as to how he had got there

The demon supported your head until you felt able to unsteadily sit up, then got you a glass of water

The painkillers would come later, once you’d had a chance to recover a little

He didn’t know how much you had drank but from the lack of sense you were making, you were more inebriated rather than less

He tried to ask you what exactly brought all of this on, though in your fuzzy state of mind all you managed to recall was something about a competition

Sebastian was unsurprised, knowing how obsessed you were with your work being perfect and also being aware of how extreme your reactions could be when it wasn’t 

This time was different though, never before had you actually injured yourself in the aftermath

Your partner gave you pain medication once you were recovered enough to take it, then sat holding a pack of frozen peas to your head with you now miserably curled into his side until you ended up falling asleep

Sebastian gently transferred you to your bed a short while later, forgoing sleep that he didn’t need anyway for the purpose of clearing up the mess left behind by your drunk antics

Any bottles were gotten rid of and glasses washed, your speakers left on charge in their customary positions and the peas safely returned to the freezer drawer 

When you woke up in the morning, it was to a pounding headache - a combination of the alcohol and the tender, bruising area of your head

But it was also to more pain meds and a glass of water left on your nightstand, and Sebastian arriving a few minutes later to check on you 

He quietly told you that although you may not have won yesterday’s competition, your work was no less brilliant because of it, along with a raised eyebrow and the same reminder he always gave you about not pushing yourself so hard all of the time

Ciel

I think Ciel would find this situation more difficult to handle than Sebastian

He would be considerably less certain of what to do when he arrived to see you knock your head on the counter and pass out, though he would have been able to work out what happened quite quickly

He quickly found something to put under your head to make you more comfortable in the few seconds you were out, namely a cushion from your couch

You tried to talk almost as soon as your heavy eyelids began to flutter open, but you words were so slurred that the earl could hardly make out what you were saying

He was correct, then, in believing that you were drowning your sorrows in alcoholWhat exactly those sorrows were was a whole other matter

He stayed crouched down with you on the floor until you successfully managed to sit up, then got you some cold water to hopefully clear your head a little

When he asked you what happened and all you managed to tell him was something fuzzy about a competition, Ciel could have outright sighed then and there

He understood the need for perfection, experienced it himself even, but he wished that you had a different way of coping with not being perfect

It was quite literally impossible to do all of the time, and your work was incredible whether someone with a subjective opinion decided yours was the best on show or not

He would be sure to try and tell you all of this in the morning when you were able to tell him properly what happened and be able to listen comprehensively to his responses, but in the meantime you were clearly in a considerable amount of pain, although the alcohol was helping to dull it down a bit, and there was quite a nasty lump beginning to form on your forehead

With you stumbling along in an attempt to help, Ciel managed to half walk, half drag you to the sofa and sit you down with your water while he went for frozen peas

He was sure he remembered his mother saying something about them being helpful for swelling injuries when he was very young, so with luck, they would help you as well

You didn’t stay awake for much longer after that, leaning heavily against Ciel’s side and drifting off from a combination of drink and the late time of night

When you did finally fall asleep, you were half sprawled over your partner and had rendered him incapable of getting up to do anything without also waking you, which was exactly what he didn’t want

As such, in the end, begrudgingly, he eventually allowed himself to get some rest as well, in preparation for dealing with the almighty headache you were going to wake up with in the morning

[attic-club-sandwich]

Summary: MC wakes one night to a familiar problem. Someone else is also awake at that hour and he comes to comfort them. A short drabble about MC getting their period for the first time since regaining their human form in the Devildom.

Lucifer x Afab! MC

Check out Part 1 with Mammon!

Feel free to send requests for who you want written next!

CW: MC has a vagina and menstruates. Period content and blood mentions.

Being stuck as a sheep in the Devildom was hard, but you were beginning to think that being a human in the Devildom was even harder. Since you regained your human form, your body had started to go back to its normal functions, which included your first monthly cycle since being human in the Devildom.  

Your sleep was interrupted all night long due to the dull ache of cramps in your lower abdomen…unfortunately you knew that ache well. Your period had started in the middle of the night, and you had completely forgotten to get any sort of products for it. Not that you even knew how to go about asking any of the demon brothers. You reach over to your bedside table to check your phone. Squinting, you could make out that it read 3 a.m. Of course. You sigh, kicking the covers off of yourself and head to the bathroom.  As you sit on the toilet contemplating your next move, your phone buzzes. Who would be up at this hour? You thought as you reached for your phone once again. You had a text message from him.

“MC. Are you awake? I finally finished some paperwork.”

You let out a small sigh. Of course he would be up doing paperwork at this hour. The eldest brother doesn’t seem to know how to relax and get a proper good night’s sleep. However, you found yourself replying to his message anyways. 

“Yeah I’m awake, not feeling too good though.”

“What’s the matter? I’m coming to your room right now.”

As you sat and stared at the message on your phone, Your stomach immediately began doing flip flops. How are you going to explain this situation to LUCIFER? There’s no way you can ask the Avatar of Pride to go out and buy you feminine products! As you were lost in your thoughts, you heard a light knock on your bedroom door. 

“MC, are you okay? It’s Lucifer.”  “Y-Yeah, hang on Luci. I’m in the bathroom!” You attempted to yell but kept your voice low at the same time. You really don’t want any of the others waking up and overhearing your situation since it would more than likely cause a scene. You stumble out of the bathroom and nervously place your hand on the doorknob to your bedroom. Opening the door just a crack, you peek your head through.“Really, Lucifer, I’m okay! T-There’s nothing to worry about.” You cursed yourself as your voice shook. Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “You reek of blood. What’s going on?” You can feel your face heating up as you glance down at your feet. He could smell it? Lucifer uses your distraction as an opportunity to let himself fully into your bedroom. “You look pale, are you hurt?” You shake your head as you sit back down onto your bed. “No, I’m okay. I’m just feeling a little sick. I um…” You can feel your cheeks getting warmer as you kept your gaze on the floor. Just say it, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. “I started my period, okay? That’s all.” The eldest brother’s cheeks flushed pink as he cleared his throat. “Oh, I see…um, is there anything I can do for you? Unfortunately I'm not too knowledgeable when it comes to this situation…” You wrap your arms around yourself and nod. “Yeah. I um, haven’t gotten the supplies I need yet…since I was, you know, a sheep for the first half of my stay here.” To your surprise, Lucifer chuckled and wrapped his jacket around you. You finally lift your gaze to his. He's smiling one of his rare smiles that he gets specifically around you, his cheeks still tinged with pink. “That makes sense. Of course, I’ll have some things delivered right away. In the meantime, I’ll make you some tea.” You wrapped his jacket around yourself a little tighter. “T-Thank you. Some painkillers and a bath would be nice too.” Lucifer smiled and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “Of course, I’m here to take care of you after all.”

[btschooseafic]

My fics masterlist

Hey you, what’s your dream? [Completed!]

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Soonyoung wants to be an idol. Aviva wants to make it happen. When Aviva becomes involved in forming an idol hip hop group, she starts to question what she wants. Is it enough to work hard to chase your dreams? Or are the people who support you along the way just as important?

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts.

Series Masterlist (x)

Read on AO3

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House of Hope [completed!]

Pairing: OT7 x Reader, OT7 x OT7

Details: hybrid!bts, a/b/o dynamics, asexual!reader

Summary: Your best friend offers you a job as a caregiver for seven hybrids.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts.

Read on AO3

~~~~

B*itches and Bunnies [completed!]

Pairing: ace! dog hybrid! alpha! reader x ace! bunny hybrid! omega! jungkook

Details: college au, best friends taehyung and jimin

Summary: There are certain stereotypes about dogs and rabbits which neither you nor Jungkook appreciate.

Warnings: The recognizable names and personalities do not reflect their real life counterparts. (oversexualization, discrimination, harassment, alcohol/drunkenness)

Read on AO3

~~~~

BTS Comforting You [completed] *Drabble*

Pairing: ot7 x reader (not polyam)

Details: gn! reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort

Summary: Your boyfriend comforts you after a rough day.

Warnings: implied mental health struggles

~~~~

Scared of Love (in a coffee shop) [completed]

Pairing: ot7, ot6 x jungkook

Details: jungkook centric, a/b/o dynamics, coffee shop au, soulmates au

Summary: Jungkook is struggling to make enough money to pay his rent and send extra to help with brother raise his niece. In this situation, many people would wish for a rich Fated Mate to solve all their problems. Jungkook knows better than that. The idea of Fated Mates makes Jungkook nervous. So what happens when he meets them at his new job?

Warnings: implied mpreg (not jk), attempted assault

Read on AO3

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Daffodil [ongoing]

Pairing: ot7, (seokjin x yoongi x hoseok x jimin x taehyung) x jungkook x namjoon

Details: namjoon centric, magic, supernatural creatures, vampires, witches, fae, sirens, demons

Summary: “Daffodils symbolize new beginnings,” Namjoon told Jungkook. He never expected their new beginning to start in the alleyway behind the Annex, while Jungkook bled out in front of him.

Warnings: blood, injury

Read on AO3

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Moonflower [ongoing]

Pairing: ot7

Details: magic, supernatural creatures, demons, dragons, witches, werewolves, private investigator! hobi, journalist!namjoon, photographer!jungkook

Summary: Taehyung and Hoseok haven’t spoken in years. It takes a newly turned werewolf and a friendly boarding house owner to bring them back together.

Warnings: assault and injury

Read on AO3

~~~~

i could easily live forever (by your side) [ongoing]

Pairing: ot7

Details: seokjin centric, gods, reincarnation, magic, poet!namjoon, baker!jimin, piano teacher! yoongi, jazz performer! tae, painter! jk, polyam negotiations

Summary: While working as the God of Hunger, Seokjin met six humans who declared themselves as his acolytes, dedicated to him and his mission. However, after they died, knowledge of the god began to fade into obscurity. Without the power of belief bolstering him, Seokjin himself started to fade from existence. Over the years Seokjin searches for the reincarnations of his beloved acolytes, but is never able to find all six at once. Finally, in the 21st Century, Seokjin is able to find them. But is it too late?

Warnings: slight angst at times

Read on AO3

~~~~

[adash-ofstardust]

i am at the tail end of the worst anxiety attack i've had in years, so please enjoy this self indulgent and mostly fluffy, with a bit of angst, drabble of Mammon and my MC...

TW: mentions of anxiety, depression, self isolation, and lack of eating and sleeping

idk if i did those trigger warnings correctly, if not please lmk

Mammon > Lucifer

Mammon: oi, Lu

Mammon: has Abel talked to you at all lately?

Lucifer: Hm? About what?

Mammon: like, is something goin’ on with 'em?

Lucifer: They haven’t mentioned anything to me.

Lucifer: Why?

Mammon: they've been pretty distant with everyone lately

Mammon: they haven’t even hung out with Levi in like a week

Lucifer: That is odd.

Lucifer: I had noticed that they haven’t come to study in my office lately, but I had just assumed it was because they were getting a handle on their classwork.

Mammon: i think somethin’s up

Mammon: i’m gonna go talk with 'em

Lucifer: Alright. Please let me know what’s going on.

Mammon: yep

Mammon balanced the drinks, bag of snacks, and movie that he had purchased carefully in one arm while he knocked on Abel’s door with the hand of the other. “A~bel! Open up! I got somethin’ for ya’!”

It took a minute, but eventually the door slowly cracked open. “Mammon?”

“Hey!” he grinned brightly as he shifted around some of the items he held so he could hold out the movie for them to take. “Time for a movie night! I know ya’ve been wantin’ to see this!” When they took the movie from him to look over, he pushed past them into their room without waiting to be invited in. “I got drinks and snacks too! And I know ya’ got all the blankets and pillows, so we should be good to go!” Mammon spilled everything he held onto the table in Abel’s room before he looked around. All the lights were off. “Sure is dark in here…” He turned back to them, “I didn’t wake ya’ up, did I?”

Abel softly shook their head as they shut the door. “No, I started getting a migraine a while ago so I turned the lights off.” They gently smiled as a look of concern crossed his face. “I took some medicine and I’m better now - no worries!”

Mammon looked them over for a moment before he turned back to the table. “Well, I did get ya a couple o’ these,” he said as he held out a can of Devilbull. “I know they’re yer favorite! And they help with yer migraines! Win-win!” he grinned.

Abel’s smile softened as they took the can. “Thank you, Mammon.” They gently sighed before looking around the room. “Let me get the laptop Levi loaned me. All the blankets and stuff are on that chair if you wanna grab some more for the bed,” Abel pointed to a chair in the corner as they made their way over to their desk.

Mammon looked them over again - noting how they seemed more sluggish than usual - before grabbing all of the extra blankets and pillows from the chair and throwing them on the bed. He didn’t worry about arranging them too much before he shucked his jacket and dropped it on the floor. Mammon grabbed all of the snacks and drinks and threw them all on Abel’s bed as well before climbing on and making themselves a cozy nest.

“Why aren’t we watching this in your room, by the way?” Abel asked as they climbed into the bed - laptop in hand. “You have that big projector.”

Mammon gestured to the bed, “Yeah, but you got all the blankets.” He grabbed one and threw it over his head like a hood, as if to further prove his point.

Abel laughed - but Mammon noted that it was softer and less bright than their usual giggle. “Fair enough,” they said as they began arranging themselves and the laptop within the nest that Mammon had made.

“Ya okay?”

Abel’s head whipped to face Mammon and they stared at him in silence for a moment. “What?”

“Are ya okay?” Mammon repeated as he slid the blanket off of his head. His expression was devoid of all of the joy that he had previously and now regarded them in complete seriousness. “You’ve been...distant lately. From everyone.”

“Oh, yeah,” Abel said as they smiled - a forced one - and turned back to the laptop. “The weather’s just been giving me a lot of migraines, so I’ve been sleeping a lot.”

Mammon was quiet for a moment. “I thought ya normally slept yer migraines off in Lu’s room since it’s quiet.” There was a slight edge to his voice - still gentle, but he knew that they weren’t being honest with him.

Abel froze for half a second before they shrugged. “It’s been happening so frequently, I felt bad bothering him all the time.”

Another moment of silence passed before Mammon grabbed Abel’s wrist - stopping them from prepping the movie. They jumped slightly at his touch before their gaze met his. His sapphire eyes bore into the cerulean of their own. “I know ya’ haven’t been eating.”

Abel did their best to suppress a gasp. They forced a confused look onto their face. “What do you mean?”

Mammon’s expression and tone remained the same. “You’ve been skipping lunch at school. And ya’ hardly eat anything of the meals we have here.” He gently reached out and grabbed their other hand - his eyes never leaving theirs. “Ya’ have a good mask, human. It’s easy ta’ see that yer used to hiding yer negative emotions - ye're even foolin’ Lucifer.” He took a deep breath and let out a sigh as he gently squeezed their hands. “But I know better. I know there’s somethin’ goin’ on that you don’t want anyone ta’ see. But, Abel, ya don’t have to be so strong here - not with me. I’d protect ya’ from anything - ya’ know that. Please talk ta’ me.”

Abel had been frozen in place by Mammon’s words. And at his plea, tears began to well in their eyes. “Mammon, I-...” they whispered.

Mammon tugged them into his arms and hugged them tightly - a blush burning upon his cheeks. “I’m here, Abel. I got ya’. I’ll take care o’ whatever it is. And if I can’t, I’ll be here for ya’ no matter what.”

How…? Abel wondered as tears began cascading down their cheeks. How could this demon break me, when no one else ever could? Their breath hitched in their throat as they began to sob. They gripped onto Mammon tightly and buried their face in his shoulder. He only held them tighter - gently running his fingers through their hair.

After a few minutes, Abel was finally able to collect themselves. They still had their face buried in Mammon’s chest when they finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Mammon…” He stayed quiet and let them continue. “I have anxiety and depression. Sometimes they just get the better of me, for no discernible reason. And when it comes to my mental illnesses, I have very self destructive tendencies. I don’t eat. I don’t sleep. I self isolate. It’s...problematic,” they sighed.

“Can I ask why ya’ never told any of us this before?” he asked, quietly.

Abel pushed themselves back so they could meet Mammon’s gaze. “I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about it before. I was always the one who took care of everyone else and their problems...I didn’t have the strength or resources to take care of my own, so I just hid it. And dealt with it when and how I could in private.” Abel shifted uncomfortably and hugged themselves. “My entire life has taught me not to show negative emotions to others. I exist to help them, not be a burden to them. So, at my lowest, I just fake being what everyone expects me to always be, push those feelings aside, and just...suffer when I’m alone.”

Mammon grabbed their shoulders a bit rougher than he meant to. “Ya’ don’t have to suffer, and ya’ don’t have to do this alone!” His face was red and there were tears in his eyes. “I dunno what yer life was like before ya’ came here, but there are people here for ya’, Abel. We all care about ya’. I-I care about ya’!” He pulled them into another tight hug. “Yer not a burden. I’m here for ya, Abel,” he whispered.

Abel began crying again and hugged him tightly in return.

Mammon > Lucifer

Mammon: idk if ya need to put this in their file er somethin, but Abel has anxiety and depression and gets self destructive

Lucifer: I was aware they had anxiety, but the rest is surprising.

Lucifer: What do you mean by self destructive? Is Abel alright?

Mammon: they don’t eat or sleep, and self isolate when things get bad

Mammon: i got 'em to eat some snacks and they fell asleep watchin a movie with me

Lucifer: Thank you, Mammon. I knew I was right in choosing you to look after them.

Mammon: *blush demoji*

[readyplayerhobi]

Favourite Fics of 2019

So...I thought that I’d give you all a list of my favourite fanfic’s that I read in 2019! I’ll include the description that was given by the author and then give a brief commentary of my own! Please make sure to not only read the fic, but give it a like and reblog! Give it some of your own comments and too, and follow/tell the author!!

Authors - I’ve got some authors repeated so you might have more than one fic here!

Readers - ...there’s a lot of fics here lol

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Welcome To The Underworld by @spookitokki​

; Demon/Radio Show Host!Jungkook x  Human!Reader

; Synopsis: In a dark little second-hand shop downtown, stuffed in an alleyway you only stumbled into because you were lost, you found a charming antique radio. When you turned it on, it began to play what would become your favorite radio show, “Welcome to the Underworld”

; My Thoughts: I rec’d this fic very recently but I still remember it well. Demon Jungkook is weirdly caring for her despite her being human and him being demon from the Underworld. The reader...well she has no sense of self-preservation honestly haha. I enjoyed everything about this; the smut, the world building, the characterisation and so much more!

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Matters Of The Heart by @hobidreams​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: it seems not even the passage of half a decade can diminish the hold of Mr. Jung’s charms on your heart. but the rumors that welcome you home speak of his imminent marriage to an heiress, one who bests you in every infuriating, ‘ladylike’ fashion. just how, then, are you meant to interpret the undeniable sparks of desire in his eyes?

; My Thoughts: I maintain that I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH. I think it’s probably like...in my top list of fics all year. It’s just...amazing. The writing feels authentic to the era and the reader is a delightful rebel that we all love from Victorian eras after all. And of course...Mr Jung is just a ridiculously attractive man that I would like very much. Rain is apparently making a follow up drabble AND I AM EXCITED!

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An Abundance of Scrunchies by @jhspetitegf​

; Single Dad!Hoseok x Kindergarten Teacher!Reader

; Synopsis: ❝hoseok is a hot single dad and you’re the new kindergarten teacher that likes to piss him off❞

; My Thoughts: This series of drabbles has completely stolen my heart. Dae is adorable and the reader is delightful in how she loves her kids. And then there’s Hoseok, the grumpy businessman who’s incredibly rich yet adorably dotes on his daughter and doesn’t get mad at her. It’s just...fluffy and angsty softness. I love it so much, and the smut was...oof. I can’t wait to read more!

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Polaris by @junghelioseok​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: somehow, someway, he always returns to you.

; My Thoughts: I MAINTAIN THAT I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH AHHH. It’s so unique and beautifully written, such a delight to read and I enjoy it every time I do. The mixing of the ages throughout the years and how Hoseok evidently has knowledge of their future together but doesn’t tell her. It’s so sweet and yet so organic how they come together. It could be weird and creepy given the difference in ages continuously but it’s not. He’s always a gentleman and it’s just...it’s just wonderful honestly.

-

Faded Love by @jamaisjoons​

; Jimin x Reader

; Synopsis: he doesn’t need to say it. because you can feel your husband, park jimin, falling out of love with you.

; My Thoughts: Okay but like, I still feel the pain and sadness when I read this fic the first time :( the reader’s confusion and pain at being abandoned so thoughtlessly despite her efforts is so hard to read. I still hate Jimin for doing it, and I’m glad that he stopped and realised that he was making a mistake. But poor reader will never be able to fully trust him again and always be worried to some degree :(

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Lost And Found 01: Tick Tock by @fortunexkookie​

; Peter Pan!Hoseok x Captain Hook!Reader

; Synopsis: The only hope you had at ending your exile and earning your life back came in the form of an infuriating and uncatchable man: Hoseok. He seemed to love the endless game of cat-and-mouse you two played - so much, in fact, that you were unsure if you were the cat or the mouse. What he failed to realize was that there was a third player, and this one wasn’t after him. The Crocodile hunted you with an intensity that rivaled the way you chased Hoseok, but with one difference: the games he played were deadly.  

; My Thoughts: Okay so like...a lot of my favourite fics ever this year have been Hoseok based. You’re not surprised, I know you’re not. But this fic is just...I cannot WAIT for the second and third parts of it. The world is so richly realised and the characters have such phenomenal characterisation and development in just this one chapter. It’s so...involving to read, you just get lost in it. It’s truly a beautiful work of art that I can’t wait to see how everything goes!

-

Jungle Park by @jimlingss​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah…once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

; My Thoughts: I looooooved reading this fic. Jimlingsss is basically why I made Flower a once a week thing, because when I was reading Jungle Park, I was always SO EXCITED for Monday’s because it meant I got to read a new Jungle Park! It’s such a slow burn romance but it’s so delightful and rewarding watching this cold and moody lawyer warm up to his bright and bubbly HR person. And then you learn the backstory between them and...I just loved it all!

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Magic and Mysteries by @jimlingss​

; Jimin x Reader

; Synopsis: Everything’s okay….EVERYTHING’S OKAY, YOU’RE FINE. Look, you just have one tiny problem. It’s an itty-bitty issue. Not that big of a deal. So what if you don’t have a familiar and you’re about to take on the ENTIRE family business. Oh, you have a name to uphold? Everyone’s depending on you? Great. That’s just fantastic. But it’s fine. You’ll get your familiar and you’ll run the best damn potion shop the world has ever seen. Everything will be fine, right?

; My Thoughts: Again, another Jimlingsss story but honestly, they’re always golden. I particularly remember this fic because I read it when I was in Korea. It’s so delightful and fun, reminding me a lot of Kiki’s Delivery Service. Jimin is a little rascal but I love that he teases her because he genuinely cares. It’s all just a truly wonderful fic and story put together in one delightful package.

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Love, Guaranteed by @gukyi​

; Taehyung x Reader

; Synopsis: with the celestial ball quickly approaching, kim taehyung is horrified to find out that you, his best friend, are dateless. to remedy this, he initiates The Match Project, a matchmaking service designed to find the most optimal date. to you, it’s an opportunity to meet someone else so you can stop pining after your clueless best friend. to him, it’s an opportunity to finally, once and for all, tell you how he feels.

; My Thoughts: I do quite enjoy reading Hogwarts fics, and I particularly enjoying reading Hogwarts fics with BTS as students as long as there’s no smut in it. Gukyi’s Hogwarts series was such a delight to read and I remember reading this fic with a smile on my face. Wanting to scream at reader because POOR TAEHYUNG OBVIOUSLY LOVES YOU. Poor guy trying so hard despite everything :(

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Lovers’ Fuck Rule by @prolixitae​

; Jungkook x Reader x Hoseok

; Synopsis: jungkook is still new to your established relationship with hoseok, which means he needs a little help feeling competent sometimes. especially when it comes to sex. alternatively, the span of a poly relationship over inaccurate amounts of fucking.

; My Thoughts: Okay look, I don’t do shipping or anything but Junghope is one of the best friendships/combinations there is. And this fic encapsulates why. Jungkook is so nervous with her whereas Hoseok is just...so unbelievably calm and dominant about it all. He knows exactly what gets his girl off and it’s sweet how amused he is by Jungkook. You can feel the slight insecurity almost off Jungkook because Hoseok has been with her for years but you can also feel the genuine love the reader has for him, along with the friendship Hoseok obviously has too. I really enjoyed it all!

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Get Wet by @prolixitae​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: sitting in on your boyfriend’s dance practice is probably your biggest kink. it’s also the reason you asked to be so shamelessly fucked in the locker rooms of his dance studio, in spite of the pending consequences. note: this is not an idol-verse fic

; My Thoughts: You know I love Hoseok, and this smut was just...oh my god wow. Bizarrely, I explicitly remember reading it while in the cinema waiting for a film to start haha. TNS Hoseok is amazing though and I really love him. In this fic he’s even more amazing though and I just...god I want him so badly. Urgh, 10/10

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Eating For Two by @park-moomin​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: He’ll have a Large

; My Thoughts: ARGH GOD I REMEMBER READING THIS. URGH, what is it about Hoseok that makes the idea of oral sex with him just so...amazing? Actually just any sex. Any at all. I love the idea of him being so...eager and desperate to go down on his girl, particularly when she’s pregnant so that she can still get some pleasure and fun out of it. Also, him cumming in his pants is just...the cherry on top haha

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The Devil In His Details by @park-moomin​

; Jimin x Reader

; Synopsis: Evil comes in many forms. In this instance, it's a 5'8" pretty-boy with an even prettier dick. And you're the form you want him to come in.

; My Thoughts: Lawd, I remember this being one of the hottest smut’s I’ve read in a while and I still stand by that statement. It does make me laugh that this was supposed to be a 1k drabble cos...girl...this length reminds me of me haha. Still, I think Jimin got the blowjob of his life...probably every man’s life here. Well done Jimin, go back for more.

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Hot Rod by @kinktae​

; Greaser!Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: a 1950′s inspired fic where greaser hoseok can’t keep his eyes, or hands, off the new waitress at his and his boys’ favorite diner.

; My Thoughts: The whole Rewind series that Rose has been doing but you all know I’m a Hoseok hoe and HOOOOO BOOOOOY GREASER HOSEOK IS SOMETHING ELSE. Everything about this fic was just...wonderful and it felt delightfully 1950s. The lingo and outfits, the cars and everything. It was hot and Hoseok deserves everything. I still kinda hope there’ll be a drabble or something in the future but either way, read this as it’s soooo good!

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The Boyfriend Concept by @kpopfanfictrash​

; Pornstar!Jimin x Reader

; Synopsis: Win a Date with a Porn Star! You saw the sign when you walked in, of course, but you had no idea your friend dropped your name into the raffle. Fast-forward to later that day, when you actually win. You are horrified, of course, with no intention of accepting and setting yourself up for embarrassment. But then you meet Jimin, and decide this might be worth a shot. 

; My Thoughts: Shanna always writes some of the best fics on tumblr and this is definitely one of them. You’d think with it being a ‘win a date with a pornstar fic’ that he’d be a little weird or something about it (there’s nothing wrong with pornstars but you can imagine it’d be odd) but Jimin is just...so sweet and kind and polite! He’s just...the perfect boyfriend honestly. It just so happens he does porn too...I honestly loved this so much!

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Beneath The Boughs by @gimmesumsuga​

; Dryad!Namjoon x Reader

; Synopsis: For almost as long as you can remember, the tree stood opposite your apartment has been a part of your life. Countless memories have been made under the shade of its supple branches, but when its existence comes under threat, you soon discover that your favourite tree is more special to you than you ever could’ve known.

; My Thoughts: I still maintain that this fic is just basically Steph gushing about her love for Namjoon all over the page. It’s just...so sweet and soft. Namjoon makes the perfect dryad and I can easily imagine him being one. He’s such a delightful character who you just want to protect and teach about the world because he has that kind of delightful innoncence. I loved it so much!

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Sweeter Than Sweet by @gimmesumsuga​

; OT7 X Reader

; Synopsis: You never would have expected someone like Park Jimin to notice you. As handsome and beguiling as he is deadly, you’re enthralled from the very moment you meet. Addicted to his kiss and his bite, Jimin opens up your eyes to a whole new world of love, lust and seduction.

; My Thoughts: This is like...the OG OT7 fic. The one that EVERYONE should read. It’s so close to finishing and I’m kind of mind boggled that it’s going to finish. It’s just...perfection. Jimin is delightful and Yoongi is sweet, it’s just so perfect, I love it all. Namjoon is still a dick, sorry Steph. I also maintain that I’m secretly marrying Hoseok. Everyone go read it and strap yourselves in for a long ride!

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Bump In The Night by @fortunexkookie​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: You’d spent countless nights terrified of the beast that lurked in the shadows, but as it would turn out, the monster haunting your home wasn’t a monster all. He was just a boy, and the only crime he’d ever committed was daring to love a girl from a different world.

; My Thoughts: Arrrrghhhhonaeouthnoetahnouenth this fic is just....perfect. I love it SO MUCH. Hoseok is a genuine monster in this, not just someone who thinks he is. He looks like a monster. But he’s a monster who gets a best friend in the reader and who slowly falls in love with her. I SWEAR MY HEART DIED WHEN THE THING HAPPENED :( Poor Hoseok, my sweet boy. But then...the end! And I was like ‘waaah’ I mean, I don’t know how she’s gonna live there but...I have hope for this odd couple because their love survived a lot <333

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One Thing Right by @hobios​

; Jungkook x Reader

; Synopsis: “i’ve been wrong about a million times, but i’ve got one thing right.”

or, desperate to get your ailing mother into the best care possible, you ask your childhood friend turned enemy to marry you for his health insurance benefits. the only problem is it’s illegal. and he’s the sheriff. and you swore to hate him since the day he broke your best friend’s heart.

; My Thoughts: Ahh...this is such a well written fic and I enjoy it so much. Jungkook has such good characterisation in it and you can feel that the readers heart is in the right place! I really like it and it reads so well, like it actually reads like a legitimate novel tbh!

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Wall To Wall by @winetae​

; Pornstar!Hoseok x Pornstar!Reader

; Synopsis: Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

; My Thoughts: Okay look...this fic is just great. I’m eagerly anticipating the second part because the first was just written so well. It’s so unique in that the readers already has a boyfriend, Jimin, who is not only okay with her being a pornstar but is the one who films her! But then you’ve got Hoseok, the new guy on the block who’s ridiculously good. The sex is just...it feels so realistic and like it’s two people in a relationship having sex and not just being filmed on camera. God I want them together lol

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Club Zombie by @floralseokjin​

; Seokjin x Reader

; Synopsis: In a world overrun by zombies, you’d think everyone was a goner, but the reality is much different. A steady diet of brains lets a zombie exist as a fully functioning human. Just ignore the part where they’re technically dead… In fact, these days, the amount of zombies outweigh the humans. A lot jump at the chance to be turned. Beg for it.

Kim Seokjin controls the underground of Seoul. No one would dare cross him. That’s how most of the world goes these days. You wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of a zombie now, would you? However, you don’t quite see it like that. Spending most nights dancing at the club he owns, you catch his eye. It’s never the wrong side if you’re underneath him, right…?

; My Thoughts: Look...I still can’t believe I read a fic with zombie sex and that I actively WANTED to read a fic with zombie sex lol. But disregarding that, it’s still phenomenally written and the world is built up so well! I loved reading this and it didn’t feel as long as it’s word count. The characters were interesting with little tidbits being thrown out there that made you a little more interested in their history.

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Defining Heaven by @akinnie75​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: “If I try to fly, will I make it to heaven, or will I fall straight down? But what exactly is heaven?” It’s a question that’s been in Hoseok’s mind a lot after cutting ties with his parents and ending his relationship with his ex-girlfriend. Dreaming is his fear, but you tell him that it’s not as scary as he thinks it is. Even in the depths of his own despair, you reach your hand out, but will he take it?

; My Thoughts: At this point, I think I just love anything by this author. But this fic was so...real and beautiful. The connection between two people who want more from life and deserve from life, who are both stuck. Hoseok’s story is heart breaking and getting to see him slowly come to life and learn to care for himself again was beautiful, while seeing the reader getting to care for herself by caring for him was just beautiful as well.

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Florescence by @jincherie​

; Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader x Hybrid!Seokjin

; Synopsis: Okay, so maybe you’re lonely, and maybe there is something missing in your life, a void that you maybe want to fill with a companion that may or may not be of human origin… You’re perfectly content not doing anything about it though, until your best friend calls you in desperate need for your help and you suddenly end up coming home with not one, but two hybrids that may or may not have been on the way to the chopping block had you not taken them in. They’re more than a little rough around the edges, and the situation is less than ideal but… maybe the best things don’t always come in perfect, shiny packages. Maybe they just need a little time to bloom.

; My Thoughts: I love this story so much :333 it’s such an interesting twist on hybrid’s in that there are ones who get discarded because they’re ‘defective’. It’s horrible to think about and I just want to love both of them. Jin is so...sweet and he tries so hard, being the one to put himself out there with the reader because Taehyung is just a sweet and shy bub. Seeing them come to life slowly is so rewarding!

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 Moon Magic by @jincherie​

; Merman!Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: You’ve never paid much mind to the moon, but you quickly learn that even though you’ve never really thought of the her, she has always watched over you. What better to heal an grieving heart, than the luminous, rippling magic of the moon? And maybe a merman, or two. You know, for good measure.

; My Thoughts: I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH AND I KNOW THAT YOU WROTE FOR ME AND I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I STILL LOVE IT. Hoseok is such a sweetheart and it’s adorable that you can see he’s falling in love much faster than she’s falling in love with him :333 the world is so realised, even though it’s just an island and everything is just...so perfect!

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We Float by @lamourche​

; Massage Therapist!Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: Might as well get this over with. You sigh and raise your hand to knock, steeling yourself for patchouli and shell necklaces. The door opens. A face peers out at you. There’s no beard, no long shaggy hair. For a moment, you wish he did walk around shirtless. He’s handsome. He’s taller than you, with brown hair that almost falls into his eyes and undercut on the sides. Warm brown eyes and a cute nose. It’s fucking cute his nose. He’s wearing cargo shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and white crocs. Well, that’s better. He’s still handsome and his kind eyes make you want to confess some prior sin, but it’s easy to scowl at a guy in white crocs.

; My Thoughts: This is still such a wonderful and beautiful fic. Hoseok’s agoraphobia is dealt with tactfully and he’s not magically cured by the end, but it’s so lovely to see that he’s willing to try and combat it a little more because he loves her. And she loves him, accepting him as he is and not pushing for more than he’s willing to give!

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Tip 143 by @minflix​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: Even though he is everything you find attractive in a man, your friend and co-worker Jung Hoseok is just exactly that - a friend and co-worker. For some reason, you have never found yourself attracted to him even though all the girls and guys around you go absolutely crazy for him.But that all changes for you one night while scrolling through Heart2Heart, a sex live cam website…

; My Thoughts: AHHHHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCHHHHH. THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE HOSEOK FICS ON THIS WHOLE SITE. It’s so wonderfully written and I adore reading it, even re-reading it. Hoseok is so funny and just...so light hearted. He’s not hugely bothered about anything and the way he goes along wtih the reader and even helps her to film her videos, even going so far as to...well going for her ;). And yet they both just think that they’re friends when nope, you’re idiots because you LOVE EACH OTHER. I genuinely love it so much, always a favourite and will remain close to my heart <333

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See Both Sides Like Chanel by @minflix​

; Namjoon x Reader x Hoseok

; Synopsis: You, Namjoon, and Hoseok are inseparable. Three best friends that grew up together since you were all in diapers.But lately, Namjoon has been drifting away…

So on his birthday, you and Hoseok remind him just how inseparable the three of you really are.

; My Thoughts: This couple...is perfect. I love them so much, they’re so well suited to each other. Rich brats who despite being rich and snobby, all genuinely love each other so much. Poor Namjoon when he felt like he’d been left out. <333 it’s okay Joonie, they both love you. I read this while I was in Korea and it just...made an impact. I want them all to live happily ever after with each other x-x

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Euphoria by @btssavedmylifeblr​

; Jungkook x Reader

; Synopsis: At the end of your life, you are given one day to live again with the man you loved. A lifetime’s love story told in a single day. 

; My Thoughts: THIS IS THE SADDEST YET SWEETEST FIC EVER. Oh my god, it’s just...it’s so unbelievably bittersweet. Their love for each other and how she KNOWS that she’s dying and she’ll never see him again. How much she throws herself into the day with him and how much he clearly loves her. She knows they have their whole life set out for them and it’s just...wonderful...honestly.

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Off The Deep End by @boymeetsweevil​

; Merman!Yoongi x Reader

; Synopsis: Your new mermaid friend, Yoongi, helps you navigate the treacherous waters of love, sex, and National Geographic.

; My Thoughts: Ngl, the main thing I remember from this? It’s beautifully written and also fish dick lmao. But seriously, it’s a great fic to read and watching Yoongi get to experience the human world is a delight. It’s very unique in how it’s written and the biology and culture of merfolk. A definite recommendation for everyone!

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[brothersgrim]

COMFORT PROMPTS

@hauntogenic asked: [ nightmare ] sender wakes receiver up from a nightmare   —   probably not waking him up but cody comforting kane after a nightmare :/ 

He doesn’t remember what happened. Sometimes he does; not now. Not now. Not now. All he knew was that it was loud, it was bright, it was dark, it was endless, it was constricting. Hands, voices, yelling, clawing, dragging. 

And then he was sitting up.

And then he was in bed. 

Not his bed, not at home, but a hotel bed in– Where were they? Where– Where was this? He looks around, lost, frantic, hands gripping tight fists against the soft linen sheets. 

Click. 

Before Kane’s blurred vision can make sense of the dark, a light cuts on. A blinding yellow rectangle in the gloom. He flinches back. It’s instinctive. Don’t be mad. Don’t be mad. Don’t be mad. He’s sorry– 

“Hey.” The silhouette in the door raises something to its head. A clipboard? A jacket? A– It wiped the object against its head.

A towel. It was just a towel. Because they were in… Not a hospital. This wasn’t a hospital, was it? 

Where was he? 

“Did I wake you?” The figure in the door says, and it’s Cody’s voice. And Cody had never been at the hospitals. He’d never been, so they weren’t there. They were… The overhead light clicked on as Kane’s fists clenched around the sheets. (Soft cotton, not the thin paper he’d grown used to.) 

…

A hotel.

This was a hotel. And he was here with Cody. He looks around the room without seeing, without letting go of the sheets. It’s a hotel. They’re in a hotel. And he– Cody steps forward and Kane flinches back. Cody stops. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. Kane does not answer. He's not sure that he can. Cody carefully, slowly, deliberately sets the towel down on one of the nightstands that decorate the room. “It's just me. It’s just us here. Is it okay if I head over there?” For a moment, Kane does nothing. Is it okay? … Then he nods once. It’s okay if it’s Cody; Cody is safe. Cody has always been safe. Cody moves closer and sits on the edge of the bed. 

“Bad dream?” He asked, and yes, that’s all it was, right? It was just a dream, it wasn’t real, it was over now, right? It was a dream. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t. 

But it felt real. The hands on his arms. His shoulders. His throat. He swallowed and it didn’t help. His mouth still felt like ash. Words still drowned out by phantom soot. It felt real. And once, it had been real. That had to mean something, right? It had to count for something. It had to.

“You wanna tell me about it?” Cody asked. Kane shook his head. He wasn’t sure he could if he wanted to, and not because of the forced silence he was grappling with. How could he even begin to explain this? How could Cody ever understand? 

“Do you want a hug?” Cody tried again. … This one, Kane had to think about. Yes, he would like one. It would help. He felt like he was falling apart, like he didn’t fit in his own body, like it would implode outward and then collapse into a black hole and he would be powerless to stop it. … But Cody would get hurt. He could feel the sheets singing in his grasp. He could smell the faint whisps of smoke already starting to curl upwards. If Cody touched him, he would get burned. He could not let Cody get burned. His hands shake, but he fumbles out a few signs regardless. He doesn’t look up through the hair in front of his face, so he can only rely on Cody’s voice to see if the message gets across. 

“Not… Hurt… You.” … Close enough. Cody sighs and the sheets rustle again. “You won’t hurt me, Kane. I trust you.” And Cody’s hand reaches out. And Kane stares at it. And Kane does not pull away. Cody waits a moment longer, gauging the reaction, then leans forward and rests his palm on Kane’s shoulder.

“See?” He said, scooting closer. “I’m fine. You aren’t hurting me.” And that alone is so bizarre that it distracts Kane from the horrors he’d been drowning in. It doesn’t make sense. Cody should be hurt. Cody should be screaming. Cody should hate him. But Cody was fine. Cody was perfectly fine, and slowly easing into Kane’s lap. He wasn’t hurt. The weight and pressure of his partner being so close is grounding, is reassuring, but he should… He should be hurt. 

“It’s okay; we’re okay.” Cody cooed, nuzzling against his shoulder. His hands found their way to Kane’s back, tracing slow, gentle shapes. “I’m right here in this hotel, and you’re here with me.” But Cody was fine. … They were both fine. Kane tucked his face into Cody’s neck, and Cody turned his head just enough to press a kiss to Kane’s temple before working his fingers through Kane’s hair. 

“We’re okay.” 

And Kane can only nod, and hold on tighter.