#but whatever or whichever it is its right by the door so i keep hearing her bump into ot

[kawaiianimeredhead]

Really conflicted about hearing my housemates dog making noise in her room...

[moonstruckme]

Hey love! How are you? I hope everything is well. Could I request a fluffy fic where the reader is sick and the marauders dote all over her? I have been sick the past couple of days with high fever and I am in desperate need to be taken care of lol. It doesnt matter if it is a poly!marauders or one of the boys. You can choose whichever you are in the mood for. Thanks in advance <3

Hi sweetheart, I'm good, thanks! I'm sorry to hear you're unwell :( Soooooo relatable, basically all I do when I'm sick is fantasize about someone taking care of me. I've been dying to write a roomate!James fic so I took this in that direction, hope that's okay. Thank you for requesting and I hope you feel better soon lovely!

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

James listens as the door to your room opens and closes again, his unease mounting. 

You’re typically quiet, but lately you’ve been quieter than usual. Normally, James can count on at least seeing you in passing, or hearing your comings and goings signaled by the ridiculously harsh creaking of the front door. You sometimes play soft music while you cook, or have a friend over to chat in your room, or listen to a podcast while you get ready in the morning. 

For the last few days, there’s been none of that. If it weren’t for the occasional sound of your bedroom door and your key still on its hook in the entryway, James might think you’d moved out. 

He’s been walking past your door more often today, curious and a bit concerned at what’s keeping you confined in there. Though he knows he should be more ashamed of his eavesdropping, who else is responsible for making sure you’re okay if not your roommate? Anyway, if one day he finds you dead in your bedroom, “I was trying to mind my own business” isn’t going to make a very good excuse. 

When he goes by on his fourth unnecessary trip to the kitchen that afternoon, James is stopped by the startling noise of rapid-fire sneezes from behind your closed door. He’s knocking before he can second-guess himself. “Hey, you alright in there?”

There’s a great snuffling sound, and then, “Yeah, thanks,” your voice muffled. 

James hesitates. He’s not sure what your definition of “alright” might be, but he doesn’t feel right going about his day when you’ve locked yourself away and are acting so strange. “Can I come in?”

“No.” 

Well, that’s about as much confirmation that you’re not alright as he needs. “Are you decent?”

“I—yeah, but James—” 

He cracks the door, sticking his head in just as you dive beneath the covers of your bed. The floor is covered in tissues and wrappers of some sort, dirty dishes stacked on your desk. The room actually smells like sickness, likely a result of your being in here without opening a door or window for days. 

“James, please go.” Your voice is muffled by the covers, but now James can hear how congested it sounds. “I don’t want to get you sick.” 

“We’re roommates, love,” he says, taking a few tentative steps toward you. “Whatever you have, I’m gonna get it eventually.” 

You sneeze, your form tensing under the covers. “Not if I stay in here and you stay out there,” you insist nasally. 

James crouches by your bed, careful to avoid the tissues and what he now sees are cough drop wrappers. He tugs at your sheets until you release them, pulling them down to reveal your very flushed, very displeased face. James can’t help it; his eyebrows come together and his bottom lip juts out in pity, and your glare intensifies. 

Of course, it’s hard to appear very intimidating when your nose is twitching as you fight off another sneeze. After a moment you give in, pressing a tissue under your nose as your shoulders hitch. James winces in sympathy. 

“How long have you been like this?” he asks, taking advantage of your distraction to touch the back of his hand to your forehead. He’s not surprised to find it warm, but the intensity of the heat that meets his hand has him inhaling sharply. He presses his palm to your cheek to be sure, but it’s the same. “Merlin, you’re burning up.” 

“S’not that bad,” you say, though your next sniffle undermines the claim. 

James brushes a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead, worrying his lip. “Seems pretty bad, love. I think we ought to get you to a doctor. You shouldn’t be this warm.” 

You’re shaking your head before he’s finished speaking. “James, no. I want to stay here, at home.” You pull your blankets closer about your shoulders protectively. “I don’t want to sit in some freezing waiting room for hours just so they can tell me I have a cold.” 

James looks at you for a moment. Your clammy forehead, your poor pinkened nose. A tiny shiver takes you, making you burrow under the blankets until just your pleading eyes are peeking out at him, and that’s what softens him to your cause. “Alright,” he sighs, “but then you need to let me take care of you.”

“But—”

“I don’t care about getting sick,” he cuts you off, leveling you with his sternest look. It’s not very well-practiced, but it does the trick, and you settle down. “You let me help, or I’ll take you to someone who will.” 

You look resentful at being given an ultimatum, but nod. 

“Great.” James grins, his usual affability returned. “Now when was the last time you ate?”

From that moment on, you’re on strict bed rest. James cancels his plans with Remus and Sirius for that night, both of them sending wishes that you start to feel better soon, and a call to his mum grants him access to her recipe for “get well soup.” You don’t have an appetite, but James coaxes you into eating a few spoonfuls, and the warm sensation in your throat proves too soothing to let a silly thing like appetite prevent you from finishing the bowl. James cleans your room as you eat, ignoring your protests and embarrassed groaning as he puts your tissues and wrappers into a bin, placing it beside your bed for easier access when you need it. Then, he gives you a steaming bowl of water, making you sit with a towel over your head in your own personal sauna. You complain about feeling disgusting as your sinuses empty themselves out, but admit to breathing a bit easier once it’s done. Soon you’re feeling well enough to sit up, propping yourself up on a few pillows with a full stomach and slightly clearer nasal passages while James takes your temperature with the thermometer he’d run to get from the corner store. 

“Can’t believe we didn’t have one of these,” he mutters as he holds it in your ear. “One of us was bound to get ill eventually, it’s a miracle it’s taken this long.” You hum, your eyes trained on the inside of James’ forearm. It hasn’t escaped his notice that you’ve been looking at him more today than you ever have before; he supposes he owes that to the glaze of fever he can still detect in your eyes. James would never embarrass you by mentioning it, but the warmth of your gaze is nice, and he’s glad you’re not sharp enough at the moment to notice he’s as flushed as you. The thermometer beeps, and he pulls away, the tension in his brow relaxing a bit as he reads the number. “Well, it’s not nothing, but it seems lower than earlier.” He feels at your forehead again, nodding to himself. “Yeah, definitely lower.” James leaves his hand on your face a tenth of a second too long, and your eyes raise to his.

“That’s good,” you say, giving him a small smile. He returns it heartily. “I feel better, thanks.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, his smile falling away when you give a small sneeze and then wince. “You sure, love? Is your head still hurting you?”

“It’s not as bad,” you sniffle, grabbing a tissue to wipe your nose. “I really think all this is helping, James, thank you. Sorry you have to be around me when I’m so gross.” 

“You’re not gross, you’re lovely,” he says dismissively, moving the box of tissues closer to you when you reach for it again. “You’re incapable of being anything but lovely.” 

You actually snort, the sound loud and wet. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.” 

“I do say,” James insists. “And I’m the only one here not delirious with fever, so I think that makes mine the final opinion.” 

Your cheeks get impossibly pinker, almost matching the hue of your nose, but your smile rivals James’ own. “Well, anyway, thanks for taking care of me. I really appreciate it.” 

James doesn’t bother to pretend he’s feeling for a fever this time, placing a hand on your cheek and rubbing at the skin under your eye affectionately. He thinks his heart actually turns to mush when you lean into the touch. “No thanks necessary, sweetheart. Happy to do it any time.”

[stevesjockstrap]

Crash & Burn

Rated M • modern era, no UD • read on ao3

Friends with benefits, pining, idiots to lovers feels

Eddie’s phone buzzed, and buzzed again. He looked down at it. 1:39am. Two messages from Steve.

Groaning, he flipped his phone over and peeled himself off his couch to pace back and forth across the room, hands raking through his hair. Why couldn’t he just block his number? It’d been weeks (maybe months?) since he’d heard from him.

He only reached out after some girl broke his heart. Again.

Eddie couldn’t keep-

His phone started buzzing more urgently, repeatedly. Picking it up, he saw Steve’s name and had to answer it.

When you feel all alone and the world has turned its back on you

Give me a moment please to tame your wild, wild heart

“Hey.”

“Hi Eds…”

Just two words made everything come flying back front and center into Eddie’s mind. The amazing sex, sure, but mostly the soft touches, staying up all night talking, the way Steve looked at him like-

He shook his head, clearing whatever that was from his thoughts.

“What’s up neighbor? Need a cup of sugar?” He winced as the words left his mouth. For once his double entendre not being intentional. Oh. That was the other thing. They lived in the same row of townhouses, Eddie getting to see whichever current conquest Steve was wooing come and go, or Steve himself walking hand in hand with the supermodel of the week.

Thankfully Steve snickered back at his dumb joke. “I don’t need any sugar, actually. But I wanted to see if you were as bored as I am. Wanna come have a beer?”

This was his play, usually. Get Eddie over for a casual hang out, watch a movie, drink a beer, maybe smoke a joint. Once they were both a lot looser, things ended up happening.

Eddie would have to hear about whichever girl it was who Steve was sure was ‘The One,’ who was clearly using him for his name and money and when they’d find out Steve Harrington actually had no contact with his rich parents and only a upper middle class salary, they usually didn’t last long.

But Eddie was also a sucker. “Sure, man. Give me a few.”

I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you

It’s hard to find relief and people can be so cold

When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can’t take anymore

Let me be the one you call

After a few beers each and politely listening to the play by play of the breakup (Dana this time), Eddie eyed Steve as he crept slowly closer to him on the couch.

Maybe it would be fine this time. They could just blow off some steam. It’s not like he had any better offers.

He pretended to be very interested suddenly in whatever dumb sitcom Steve had thrown on for background noise, and a hand slid up his thigh. He bit into the side of his cheek and stayed still. The butterflies he got every time he was in this position came back full force.

“Steve, I-“ he shook his head, but then caught the look on his face, like a rejection right now would send him crumbling.

If you need to crash then crash and burn

You’re not alone

“C’mere,” he breathed instead.

They met in a slow kiss, less heated and desperate than usual. Eddie cupped his jaw tenderly, trying in equal measures to hold back and show him some of the emotion he’d bottled up for so long.

Steve gasped an “Ed-“ into his mouth and shoved closer to him. They wrapped their arms around each other and he forgot he wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

When hopes and dreams are far away

And you feel like you can’t face the day

Let me be the one you call

The first slow thrust into Steve’s body was heart stopping. He didn’t think it had ever been like this, slow and gentle, instead of the frenzy he usually felt.

But that wasn’t altogether the truth, as he sucked in a breath, he realized while they usually came together in a rush, he’d usually find himself slowing it down. Making it more tender and caring.

Steve pulled him down for a soft kiss and he sunk into it with a small sound. Oh no. He pulled back. They could do slow passionate sex or they could have soft tender kisses but he couldn’t do both. He couldn’t take it. Especially not the eventual ghosting once Steve found a new girl to fall for.

But Steve was looking up at him now. Panting, cheeks flushed. Staring wide eyed up at him almost reverently. Eddie got stuck in his deep brown eyes for a long moment, transfixed until they both gasped on a particularly good thrust and Eddie realized what was happening.

He loved him. Was soul crushingly in love with a guy who only used him after he was broken up with.

Unable to meet his gaze, he mouthed along his neck and shoulder instead, allowing himself to hide his face, committing the little sighs and punched out sounds to memory.

This would have to be the last time.

When you feel all alone and a loyal friend is hard to find

You’re caught in a one-way street with the monsters in your head

When hope and dreams are far away

And you feel like you can’t face the day

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he jumped. Peering at it, he ignored the new text and looked back at Gareth.

“Why are you so jumpy, bro?”

Shaking his head, he tried to return the conversation back to the gigs they had lined up, but Gareth could always see right through him.

“Uh uh, whose texts are you avoiding? That’s not like you. Spill.”

“Gare, I promise, it’s nothing,” he raked his hands through his hair and Gareth raised an eyebrow at him. Well fuck, now he’d done his tell, hadn’t he? Sighing, he decided on, “It’s just something that needs to fizzle out on its own. A mistake that I keep making. I should block him.”

“Ahh,” Gareth nodded. “Hot neighbor guy.”

His jaw dropped. “Wha- how? I mean, shit.” He leaned down and thunked his forehead on the table. “How do you know he’s hot?”

Giggling, Gareth patted his shoulder. “The mistakes that we can’t block- they’re always hot. So what happened? Usually you’re off to the races when he texts.”

Sitting back up, he sighed. “I can’t keep doing this. I lo- I care too much about him and he only wants to hook up after some girl fucks him over. It’s killing me.”

Gareth hummed at him, nodding. “Caught feelings for the booty call. That’s a lot, dude. Did you tell him?”

“Are you kidding? No way! Zero chance that he’d actually stop his womanizing ways to have something real with me. He just likes getting fu-“

Gareth held up a hand. “I don’t need the details, man.”

Laughing, Eddie shook his head again. “Maybe if I just don’t answer, he’ll find some girl who wants to peg him and go run off with her.”

“There’s always a chance.”

‘Cause there has always been heartache and pain

And when it’s over you’ll breathe again

You’ll breathe again

Groaning, Eddie read through the last text Steve had sent again.

Hi. I know you’re avoiding me and I just wanted to know why. Did I do something wrong? I’m home all night if you want to talk.

He knew he was being an asshole by ignoring him. He knew exactly how shitty it felt to be ghosted after their encounters and now he was doing the same thing.

Knocking on his door felt like approaching the executioner. Would he get punched in the face? Kicked in the balls? Would he need to move? He really liked his place.

“Oh hey, he is alive after all,” Steve said sardonically as he pulled the door open.

“It appears so. Can I come in?”

Steve seemed weary, but nodded and turned to walk into the kitchen, propping himself at a stool at the bar. Eddie stood on the other side of the counter from him.

“I’m sorry,” he huffed. It didn’t seem like enough, but he made himself relax his shoulders and continue. He looked down at the swirls in the countertop as he talked. “I can’t do this anymore. I- um, I really like you, Steve. And this only calling me when you get your heart broken is … it’s too much for me.”

After a beat, he chanced a look up at Steve’s face and winced. He looked like he’d gotten ice water thrown in his lap.

“I know I should’ve told you sooner, but I just worked it out myself very recently. I thought I could do the casual hookups but my heart can’t take it anymore. Because I know you don’t feel the same and-“

“Of course I don’t feel the same,” Steve growled out, his face now completely closed off and hard.

Eddie clenched his jaw and gave a stiff nod.

“I’m not- I don’t swing that way, man.”

Instead of arguing, he just nodded again and walked towards the door. Somehow that’d been worse than he’d expected. He almost wished he would’ve received an actual punch instead.

When you feel all alone and the world has turned its back on you

Give me a moment please to tame your wild wild heart

A few days later he pointedly turned away when he saw Steve walking hand in hand with another blonde woman. Good for him. Maybe he’d settle down and find a different neighbor to fuck him through his denial.

He finally blocked his number and his Instagram. Gareth took him out for depressed drinks and darts. He started parking around the side of his townhouse and coming in the back door when he couldn’t stop himself from checking for strange cars on the other end of the lot.

Maybe he would need to move.

If you need to fall apart (you’re not alone) I can mend a broken heart

And if you need to crash then crash and burn (you’re never alone)

You’re not alone

A pounding woke him and he pushed away from the warm body next to him to look at the time. 2:11am. What the fuck?

Throwing pants on, he went downstairs and flicked a light on.

Someone was standing on his porch.

Throwing the door open, he immediately realized it was pouring down rain, Steve was at his door, and he should’ve put a shirt on.

“Hi.” Steve started. His eyes widened as he took in Eddie’s appearance, rumpled hair and hickeys going down his neck and chest.

He’d taken home the pretty boy in the bomber jacket from the bar. Sue him. And-

“Who is it, babe?”

Steve’s eyes widened further and his face paled. Mouth opening and closing before his face closed off again and he turned away. “Never mind.”

Without thinking, he followed him, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Steve! Wait!”

Stupidly, he reached out for him and grabbed his arm to pull him around.

Steve yanked his arm back with a huff. “Save it. I see you’ve moved on quickly.”

“Me?” He sputtered, throwing his hands up. “I’ve moved on quickly? How many girls have you fucked this month? This week?”

Starting to turn away again, he grumbled, “Just go back to your-“

Eddie was suddenly so deeply tired and he couldn’t fight anymore. “You came over here in the rain to knock on my door at two AM, man. Talk to me. Please.”

That knocked the fight out of Steve, and he looked like himself again. He sighed, pushing his wet floppy hair out of his face. It made him look even more pitiful, like a little wet puppy.

“I know. I’ve been a dick.” Steve swiped across his face and Eddie’s heart clenched. “It dawned on me. Tonight. That our… arrangement before…”

Thunder boomed and they both jumped. Eddie tried to hide his satisfaction as Steve edged closer to him.

“Just, I realized I looked forward to seeing you, sometimes a lot more than the girl I was telling you about. I was stupid. I’m so sorry, Eds. These last few weeks I’ve been a mess. I think I fell in love with you a long time ago, too. And-“

Eddie cupped his face and stepped in closer, staring into his eyes. “Say it again?”

Giving him the tiniest smile, he repeated, “I’m in love with you, Eddie. I’m so sorry I said those things that day.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, Steve closed the small distance between them. Eddie kept him there with a handful of soaking wet tshirt.

This kiss was nothing like their kisses before. Eddie could pour all of his love and affection into it now, not having to hold anything back. Even from himself.

“Wow,” Steve breathed, lips still moving against his.

Eddie pressed a few more kisses against his lip before pulling back.

“Do you wanna hear a secret?” Eddie asked, suddenly serious.

Steve nodded, confused.

“I didn’t move on. I picked that guy up at the bar last night because he reminded me of you.”

A wide grin spread across Steve’s face. “Oh really?”

Let me be the one you call

If you jump, I’ll break your fall

Lift you up and fly away with you into the night

Ali @eddiethehunted made me have a Savage Garden nostalgic moment (months ago, sorry) and ofc I had steddie feels 🖤

[littlechivalry]

Stranger Things modern AU, no Upside Down, pre-Steddie. Inspired by MacArthur Park by Donna Summer and those 'scrunch butt leggings' ads I keep getting

-

Eddie walks into the apartment to see Robin banging on the bathroom door.

"Come out of there, dingus. We have to go!"

From the other side of the door Steve, his voice muffled by the finest press board three minimum wage employees can afford, shouts, "Never!"

"I swear to God, getting you out of the closet was easier than this. Come! On!"

Eddie has been witness to more than a few Robin VS. Steve battles and he's always ready to jump in on whichever side is right, or has the best chance of winning.

Or whichever one is funnier.

"What's going on Buckley? His Majesty forget how doors work again?" Eddie raises his voice towards the bathroom, "You have to pull, Steve. Pull. Door opens in."

"Door doesn't open at all," he shouts back, prompting Robin to hit it again.

"Come on. You promised."

"I promised to go with you. I did not promise to humiliate myself."

Eddie's not sure whats going on but it's starting to sound serious. He lowers his voice and moves closer to Robin. "Hey," he says, softly. "What is this for real? Steve sounds pretty upset."

Robin turns to lean back against the door and shakes her head. "Its nothing, it's that charity thing Chrissy set up for her gym."

"Yeah, aerobics in the park, right? So what's the big deal?"

"It's..." Robin trails off and looks down at her outfit.

All Eddie sees is shorts, albeit a lot shorter than her usual, and a cropped tee shirt.

"So it's sexy aerobics," Eddie asks. "Well, what's the big deal, then. I still very fondly remember a certain someone's old jogging shorts before they finally gave up the ghost. This isn't much worse."

The bathroom door swung open quickly and Robin stumbled backwards. Used to Robin's newborn giraffe level of grace Eddie lunged forward to catch her.

Once he got her steady on her feet again they both turned to see Steve framed in the doorway.

He was wearing shorts similar to Robin's and a cropped tank top.

"Its not much worse," Steve repeated. "What are you even talking about?"

Eddie gestured to Steve's outfit. "Its short-shorts and a tank top. A little slutty but not that different than your usual workout clothes. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal," Steve repeats. "I'll show you the big deal."

Eddie knew Robin was saying something but as Steve turned around all he could hear was the rushing of blood in his own head.

They were shorts. Short-shorts. THOSE short-shorts. Specially crafted by - Eddie assumed - some kind of demon of temptation to sculpt and cling to every curve of Steve's not insubstantial ass.

A smack to his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. He snapped back into consciousness to realize Steve had turned around and now on further examination the view from the front was just as good as the back. If not a bit less... detailed.

"Are you wearing a cup," Robin squawked.

"No one at this event needs to see my whole dick, Robin," Steve pouted. His hands were on his hips which just lifted the shirt and exposed a tanned expanse of flesh.

Eddie... needed to sit down.

"So you can see why I'm not going," Steve said.

"The hell you're not," Robin answered. "We made a commitment and we are gonna follow through."

"You made a commitment," Steve said. "And I know you're more interested in getting next to Chrissy than whatever charity this is supposed to be for anyway."

"I am not," Robin snapped. "I care a lot about-- this."

Steve snorted. "Its on your shirt, Robs."

And in truth blazoned across the front of her tee shirt and Steve's tank in broad letters was MACARTHUR PARK CHARITY CAKEWALK.

"Oh," Eddie huffs. "I get it."

Now both of them are glaring at him and he gestures to their outfits. "Y'know. Cake."

Steve groans and pushes past the two of them to go back to his bedroom.

"Its not funny, Eddie," Robin hisses.

"And I'm not laughing," he replies. "Its a good cause, a good song, and a funny bit. Your girlfriend is significantly cooler than I thought."

"She's not my girlfriend," Robin snorts, heading up the hall after Steve.

"Skill issue," Eddie mutters. He idly notices the shorts don't flatter her quite as much but then he's biased.

Eddie debates whether he should try to mediate or let Steve and Robin fight it out. To be honest the result will be the same either way.

Eddie makes himself a sandwich and tries to ignore the fight.

Fifteen minutes later he's halfway through a peanut butter and mayo when Robin goes marching for the door, Steve trailing behind her.

"Have fun, kids. Hope it doesnt rain," Eddie calls out. Robin laughs and Steve gives him the finger.

Eddie hums to himself and bites into his sandwich. He wasn't planning to go back out but... he hasn't been to the park in a while. And it looks like a good day for it.

[unclewaynemunson]

( 🥐 anon )

hiii !! i have two ideas! you can choose whichever!

fairy and eddie making flower crowns

mermen steve and eddie making shell bracelets

Aaand another one, yaaay! okay so idk if you know the song mermaid bar by maya hawke but that heavily inspired this thing. Go listen to it if you don't bc her music is *chef's kiss*

TW for mention of death / suicide (if you're reading this and have issues in that area, please talk about it with a safe person in your environment or call your country's suicide prevention line if necessary)

---

It had been days since Eddie had last eaten. He was preparing himself to never eat again because that beast-like feeling had terrified him right to his bones. It had been more instinct than anything else, something primal and desperate trying to keep his weakened, hungry body alive. His sharp teeth cutting into the diamondback terrapin, its raw flesh dropping into his stomach and awakening something awful deep inside of him.

Eddie used to love turtles, before he fell into the Hudson river and his ribs separated to make space for gills; before his legs turned into black and silver scales shimmering in the light that filtered through the waves; before webs sprouted between his fingers.

He had left the Long Island winter beaches behind him now, coursing to the open seas and wondering how long he would last on his empty stomach, half hoping he would get caught in a fishnet or encounter a ship. But no such thing happened. He was all alone with the fishes down here.

Until he saw something that weirdly looked like... a building. Like a house, a human house, or maybe a shed. His curiosity suddenly kicked in again – a familiar feeling, finally, thank whoever caused this whole predicament – and he purposefully started swimming closer.

It didn't take long before he could distinguish that it was a wooden building, decorated with all kinds of shells and half overgrown with corals. Sardine Dream Mermaid Bar was written right above the front door, in uneven and slightly wobbly letters. The door was open and since Eddie's curiosity was growing by the second, he swam inside without even thinking about it.

'Ahoy!'

And holy shit. Behind the counter of what was unmistakably a very real, actual bar, was possibly the most beautiful creature Eddie had ever encountered. His brown hair was dancing around his face in graceful waves, his toned arms were covered in all kinds of shell bracelets, and his bare chest... Well. Eddie was pretty sure he'd lose his consciousness again if he were to keep looking at that chest.

'You can talk!' Eddie thought out loud, and hey, apparently, he could talk too. 'I can talk!'

The creature – mermaid – boy – person – smiled a smile that was ridiculously beautiful despite his scary sharp teeth.

'Yeah, we can talk.'

'There's more like you?'

He kept smiling. 'Way more. You can hear them singing, if you listen closely.'

Eddie froze in his place as he listened intently; and sure enough, very faintly, he could hear some kind of ethereal song carrying through the water.

'I'm Steve.'

The stranger held out his webbed hand and Eddie hesitantly shook it while telling him his own name.

'So I take it you're new?'

Eddie nodded dumbly.

'Alright, I bet you're hungry, then. I'll get you something to eat. What do you want? Oysters, caviar, scallops?'

'Um, scallops is fine, I guess.' Eddie's empty belly started twisting nauseatingly at the promise of something to eat – something he wouldn't have to kill between his own teeth. Or at least, he hoped that was what Steve was going to serve him. He didn't exactly know the rules of whatever this was.

'What is this place?' Eddie asked while Steve turned around to prepare a plate for him. He caught a glimpse of the golden fishtail that had been hiding behind the counter and – wow. He had never seen colors like that before in his life.

'It's um... A refuge, I guess,' Steve told him. 'I opened it when I ended up here. It's a place where people can come if they're in trouble, or if they feel like they don't belong anywhere, you know.'

And oh, Eddie could relate to that. He took the plate that Steve held out to him and gratefully dug in.

'Jesus Christ this is good,' he murmured around his full mouth, gaining himself another smile from Steve before he closed his eyes to properly revel in the rich taste on his tongue.

'So how did you get here?' Steve asked.

'Fell in the goddamn river,' Eddie managed to say between two bites. 'Fuckin' stupid really. Partying in New York. Drunk, high, you know how it goes. Slipped, hit my head, and that was it. Or, well, that was supposed to be it.' He dropped the mussel he had been holding to make jazz-hands. 'Yet here we are.' He swallowed another bite. 'What about you, how did you get here?'

'I jumped.'

'You jumped in the –' But before Eddie could finish his question, understanding dawned over him. 'Oh.'

'Yeah.'

'I'm sorry.'

'It's okay,' Steve said. 'I'm happy to be here, actually. Things are much better now. Not everyone is lucky enough to land in bubbles when they fall.'

'Yeah, I guess,' Eddie mumbled quietly, thinking about his mother and how she had fallen, back when he was little. There certainly had been no bubbles to catch her.

'Hey.' It sounded soft and Steve tilted his head a little bit, staring at Eddie as if he was trying to figure him out. 'You can stay here for as long as you need to,' he continued. 'I'll teach you everything you should know. We have this – this ritual.' He gestured to a tall jar that was standing on the counter between them, filled with all kinds of shells in various shades of white. 'This is our tip jar. Everyone leaves some shells when they come here, and we use them to bind ourselves to each other. I'll make you a bracelet right now, to make you part of the community. And when you feel that the time has come – when you feel at home here, when you're ready to navigate this world without me – you can return the favor.'

Eddie let his gaze wander to Steve's forearms, both covered in bracelets.

'So these are all from people you helped?'

The sudden bashful look on Steve's face didn't escape Eddie's notice.

'Yeah, I guess I did,' he said, almost like it surprised himself.

With his belly filled and his human instincts finally returning to him, Eddie felt brave enough to stretch out his hand and gently trace the bracelets on Steve's left arm with his index finger.

'It'd be an honor to give you a bracelet of my own someday, Steve,' he said softly.

And when he saw the look in Steve's soft brown eyes, it suddenly didn't seem so bad to Eddie anymore that he had fallen into the river.

[leejungchans]

one for the tales — j.ww

༉‧₊˚✧ for my 1k event ! (now closed)

requested by @nayuyeons : HI CHOL MY LOVE *bops nose* CONGRATS ON 1K IM SO PROUD AND HAPPY AND ILYSM YOU DESERVE THIS AND MORE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also !!! for ur event, can i request a wonu writing? and,,,, im between a royalty au (bc pls imagine prince wonu IM SWEATING JDKSJSKSK) or or or,,,,,,, BIKER WONU since hot is out now like JXKSJKX okay okay !!!!! u can do whichever genre u like, i will love whatever you write my chol<3333

a/n: hi nini 💖💖 thank u for requesting something and i hope this is the prince!wonu of your dreams WHSJAJS i chose the royal au bc someone else requested a biker!wonu au so we get the best of both worlds >:) 🫶🏻

word count | 1k

pairing | jeon wonwoo (svt) x gn!reader

genre | fluff, royal au

warning(s) / includes | none (please lmk if i missed anything!)

Some nights, the fear of the crown prince being caught with you keeps you up. You can already imagine the rumours that would inevitably surface if anyone were to ever find out about your clandestine meetings with him.

What you can’t imagine, however, is not being able to see Wonwoo again. The king and queen seem kind, albeit distant, from their public addresses, but even the kindest have their limit, and you’re almost certain their son sneaking into a bookstore—where the owner also lives, no less—late at night is gravely testing theirs.

Though it’s moments like these that make the fear, the risk, the secrecy all worth it in your eyes. From behind a looming stack of books, you let your gaze linger on Wonwoo. There’s something magnetising about his perfect posture, handsomely sharp features, and silver-rimmed glasses that slide down his nose bridge every five minutes. In a sense, he’s the lantern hanging outside by your door and you’re the moth drawn to it, unable to will yourself to pull away.

As though feeling the weight of your stare, he looks up, his eyes finding yours immediately. You feign an air of nonchalance when he raises his brows curiously, hoping he doesn’t sense your panic at being caught ogling. There’s a lamp hanging right above you, but you don’t think it’s the source of the heat that blooms beneath your cheeks.

“Interesting choice,” you finally choke out, gesturing to the book he’s holding. You had recognised the cover the moment he pulled it out from its shelf, but chose to remain silent until now. “I thought fairytales were too…” your voice trails off as you try to find the right word, not wanting to offend him, “vapid for your tastes, Your Highness.”

“I changed my mind,” Wonwoo responds softly, offering a shrug before idly flipping a page. Is the light deceiving your eyes, or is that a smile crossing his lips? “Also, I thought I said there’s no need to use my title when we are alone.”

When we are alone. You wish your cheeks didn’t burn as much as they should whenever he says it. Then again, everything sounds better, more enticing when they come from his lips.

“R-Right. My apologies, Your H—Wonwoo.”

He hums. “To answer your question, I have… taken quite a liking to fairytales recently.”

“Oh?” You move to take a seat across from him to hear him better—at least, that’s what you tell yourself—and not so you can get a better glimpse at him. Your stomach does a flip as you take in his features, illuminated by pale yellow light that also creates flickers of gold in his irises.

“What changed your mind, if I may ask?”

With a light thud, Wonwoo sets the book down onto the table before lifting his head from the aged pages, his lips pursed as he looks off to the side in deep thought.

“I’m not too certain myself,” he finally says, “perhaps it’s the temporary reprieve from reality they provide that I’m beginning to enjoy.”

Your voice is tentative, barely audible when you ask, “Is… something troubling you, Wonwoo?”

“Ah, it’s nothing troubling.” The way he waves his hand is elegant, dismissive, in an attempt to ease your concern. “Father and Mother are simply becoming rather… impatient because I am not yet married.”

“But—but you’re still so young!”

“Not by royal standards, especially for a crown prince.” His lips curl into a wry smile, the amused glint in his eyes faltering for a second to betray a hint of regret. How ironic that you spend your days tucked away within your cave of bookshelves, and yet you’re unable to find the words to describe the uncomfortable ache that burrows into your heart.

Despite the heavy subject, Wonwoo chuckles. The deep rumble of laughter chases away the heavy silence that has descended upon the room; it’s warm like the comforting crackle of a fireplace in the frigid winter, rich like the hot chocolate they serve at the cosy inn on the outskirts of town.

“Hope is… a powerful thing,” he begins with a glance down at the book, “it will always be the greatest reassurance humans have for the complexities—even cruelty—of life. I’m beginning to find comfort in stories like this one where the protagonist lives a life of freedom with the person he truly loves, and I now understand why there is such an appreciation for them.”

You remember a time in the distant past when you, much like most commoners you know, believed the crown prince to be a stoic, unmoved man. Back then, you would’ve never foreseen him sitting across from you in your tiny bookstore tucked away in a dingy alleyway, arguing over the semantics of happy endings, hiding smiles behind cooled cups of tea.

“I cannot say for certain if my future holds the same,” Wonwoo continues, looking up from the page to hold your gaze, “but…” His lips are still curved into a smile, yet something bittersweet manages to peek through his flawless composure. It sends a gripping ache straight to your heart. “It is nice to hope.”

“Keep it,” you blurt out, earning a mildly bemused look from the prince. “The book,” you rush to clarify, hoping to whatever deity watching over you from the heavens that he doesn’t notice the mistiness in your eyes. “If it holds such significance to you, I’d like for you to have it.”

“That’s very kind of you, Y/N. But respectfully, I will decline. I’d hate to keep such a lovely story to myself, why not leave it here where it can bring others some much needed hope as well?”

An appreciative smile stretches across your face, one that Wonwoo mirrors without hesitation. “Thoughtful to your people as always,” you tease. “Very well then, it shall remain here.”

Curiously, your cat trots across the table before deciding the space between you makes the perfect resting place. Wonwoo hardly seems to mind, gently running a curled finger over her fur and grinning when she lets out a contented purr.

“What are the chances you’d allow me to have your cat instead?”

“I’ve had the sneaking suspicion that you only return here for Maisie for quite some time, Your Highness.”

His laugh rings clearly as your eyes meet; your heart skips a beat at the playful twinkle that not even his glasses can disguise.

“A most preposterous assumption, that I can assure you.”

a/n: skskkws i hope the second half makes sense 😭 as always tysm for reading 💖

please reblog and/or give feedback if you enjoyed my writing ! support the creators and content you wish to continue seeing <3

[twodimecastle]

fifty bucks & six months.

spencer reid x gender neutral reader new relationship, secret keeping nonsense, 4.5k words, ao3 a/n; turns out i love writing texting fic but tumblr destroys the formatting rip

zero months.

You smile conspiratorially, extending a pinkie towards Spencer and he gives you a skeptical look.

“You know the odds of being found out immediately are-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Astronomical, I know. I know. But don’t you think it’ll be fun to see how long we can push it?” you wheedle, not caring that your voice sounds more like begging than is strictly dignified because seeing the way Spencer’s nose crinkles in amusement at your heavy handed persuasion is too adorable to pass up. You scoot closer on the couch, tapping the end of his nose with your pinkie finger, letting him catch your hand between his as you continue “I think we’ve got a good shot at hiding it for a little while. It would be like a game.”

Spencer draws your captive hand to his lips, brushing them across your knuckles and watching fondly as you forge ahead in your campaign to persuade him, enjoying the show and the attention too much to tell you he’s already on board. Your eyes are shining with the prospect of the caper, and you’ve made no move to take your hand back from him, and Spencer’s pretty sure he’d be more than happy to sit with you in this moment forever. “I mean-” you go on, gesturing animatedly with your free hand, “you’re like-a really good liar when you want to be. And everyone else always forgets how good you are at it.”

He snorts at that and the sound makes you light up, eyes tracking the arch of his brows, the warmth in his soft brown eyes, memorising the way he looks like this; utterly unbothered, completely at ease. It might be your favourite version of him, but that race has always been a tight one with no clear winner in sight. You have lots of favourite versions of Spencer. Twisting your hand in his, you tangle your fingers together, savouring the way you feel his thumb glide delicately along your skin and the unhidden joy in his face at the simple show of affection.

Time to play your trump card.

“$50 says we can hide it from the whole group for at least six months. If everyone figures it out before then, you win. But if not everyone has worked it out by then, I win.”

The mischievous shine in your eyes is irresistible, and Spencer smiles, disentangling one of his hands from yours to extend his own pinky finger.

“You’re on.”

The words barely make it out of his mouth before you’re colliding with him, pressing your lips to his.

two months.

“So, how long has this whole thing been going on?” Derek’s question catches Spencer off guard, and, based on the way he can see you freeze in his peripheral vision, takes you by surprise as well. Sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek continues “I hope you didn’t think you were gonna be able to keep me in the dark for long, pretty boy. You should know better than that.”

Following mechanically after him, Spencer takes the passenger seat, trying to frame his next statement as carefully as possible as he hears your door close and the car start. “We were-going to tell you guys-” he begins uncomfortably, glancing back to you for support, but you look just as on edge as he feels. “We were just gonna-keep it to ourselves for a while-before telling Hotch and everything-” he tries again, the mounting tension levering his shoulders higher and higher with every passing moment, but then Derek just laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m happy for you, kid. For both of you.” He spares a look at you in the back seat through the rear view mirror, and you can feel the tension in your jaw relax, the furrows in your brow straightening out at the note of approval in Derek’s voice. “I’m glad you two finally figured it out,” he says, fondly, and you laugh.

“I bet Spence we could keep it from you guys at least six months,” you explain, reaching forwards through the centre console to link your pinky with Spencer’s, and the touch of your hand releases the last of the tension he had been harbouring as he covers your hand with the other one of his own. He knows Derek clocks the motion, filing it away in his mind somewhere, but he doesn’t care about the scrutiny so much right now. Not when your hand is so warm and comfortable in his.

Derek reaches for the dial on the radio and flicks through the channel, thinking about something, and as you watch, a slow mischievous smirk spreads across his face a moment later before he glances first at Spencer and then at you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to you, and Spencer can feel a familiar grin tugging at his own lips as he watches a plan take shape in his friend’s eyes. “I’m happy to sit on this information for a while for a cut of the winnings from whichever one of you comes out on top.” He snorts good naturedly as he continues “I have my own bet to win with Prentiss, so if you two help me win that one, I’ll cut you in too.”

“A quid pro quo of sorts,” Spencer says slowly, and he feels your fingers tighten around his, as you snort softly, and he knows instinctually you’re grinning the same way you always do when you’re winning a game. “I think we can do that.”

Derek grins, turning the music up as he nods, eyes on the road. “Then you two love birds have got yourselves a deal.”

two months and two weeks.

PG: youre not as slick as you think you are ;)

YN: ???

PG: ;))))))))) you should invest in some concealer for your work bag sweetness or tell the good doctor to pay more attention to whats visible in your work clothes

YN: oh my fucking god wait how do you even know thats how that happened

PG: im all knowing and all seeing im like the omnipotent goddess of the fbi

YN: derek blabbed

PG: he sang like a canary but also im an omnipotent goddess im also totally clued in on the whole bet situation with em so for the low low price of every single juicy detail about how this adorableness went down you can buy my silence :)

YN: im getting derek decaf coffee on all coffee runs from now on >:( traitors dont get caffeine

PG: darling sweet angel i need deets all of them like immediately

YN: >:( fine ok so. after that case down in georgia a few months ago? the weird one? with the creepy mother son thing?

PG: omg yuck pls dont remind me im here for the CUTENESS not the MURDER

YN: sorryyyyyyy anyway so spence was like being super weird about it all on the plane and whatever but he was doing that super annoying thing where he ignores it and says hes fine so everyone leaves him alone

PG: YEAH why does everyone here do that ALL THE TIME its SO annoyingggg

YN: ikr its insufferable and like super not subtle ANYWAY. spence was being weird and whatever and i just. refused to let him sulk on his own or whatever like i could tell there was something bothering him and so after work i insisted that we were gonna get like shitty diner food or whatever and watch a movie and he knows better than to say no to me

PG: smart boy

YN: so we got fries and milkshakes and then went back to his place to watch a movie and he was still like weird and silent and like brooding yknow? but whatever just figured hed talk about it when he was ready so i put on a movie and offered to make popcorn and then he was just staring at me and he looked so SAD and TIRED and i thought id done something wrong like the poor guy looked like he was gonna cry and i was panicking over fucking popcorn and then he says ‘why are you always so nice to me?’

PG: oh my god hes like if a sad victorian orphan was actually a triplicate phd holder

YN: i was SO thrown off i was like spencer. spencer were best friends. ive been forcing you to hang out with me for years now why do you THINK im being nice to you its bc i care about you asshole and then. like after another million years after letting me sweat it out over whether hes about to cry for like fucking years the asshole grabs my hand and says. i shit you not. ‘you know im in love with you, right?’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: anyway hes my boyfriend now :’) dont tell anyone tho gotta win the bet

four months.

Lingering by the elevator, you glance around at the uncharacteristically silent office building, waiting for Spencer to leave the bullpen. The sound of his footfalls drawing nearer makes you smile and you mentally applaud yourself for suggesting the two of you remained behind after disembarking from the plane, taking advantage of the manufactured privacy to take the same car home, back to his apartment.

When he sees you waiting for him, he can’t help the soft fond smile that tugs at his face, as he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers into yours with a gentle squeeze, the quiet of the building allowing him to indulge in the show of affection. You return the squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder with a yawn and as he presses a fond kiss to your temple he’s rewarded by a sleepy hum of approval from you that sends a rush of quiet joy shooting through him.

“At least we won’t be sleeping in hotel beds again tonight,” you say, voice weary, and Spencer nods as he shuffles you into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the elevator starts to move and in the moment of absolute privacy, you steal a kiss, tilting your chin up to catch his lips with yours, revelling in the soft huff of surprise he lets out, even as he smiles against your mouth. Even after months, the simple act of kissing Spencer still feels new and thrilling somehow, like you can’t quite believe it’s something you’re allowed to do.

His nose brushes yours and he breathes “unless something big comes up, we get a sleep in tomorrow too,” and the way you beam at him sends his heart racing in his chest, unable to look away from the fondness shining in your eyes.

As the two of you exit the elevator and make your way through the Bureau car park, you tuck yourself against his side, wedging yourself under his arm with a happy sigh, eager to get yourself horizontal and asleep as fast as possible. Spencer brushes his lips against your temple again as the two of you close in on his car, almost free and clear of the office when a voice behind the two of you brings you up short.

“Reid?”

Spencer is reacting before his mind catches up, turning on his heel towards the sound of Hotch’s voice echoing through the parking lot, conscious of the incriminating way you’re still tucked against his side, even as his brain is rifling frantically through any possible excuses for the current circumstances.

“Hotch-” you step away from Spencer, cheeks flaming, not wanting to chance a look at him. “I-we-thought everyone else had gone home,” you trail off lamely, trying your hardest not to balk under Hotch’s ominously impassive scrutiny. A second passes, then another, and the short silence feels like months, or years even as the three of you stand locked in a stalemate.

“I take it the two of you would prefer to keep this under wraps?” He asks, finally, and it registers with Spencer, somewhat belatedly, that Hotch’s tone isn’t admonishing. It isn’t enough to dissipate the tension coiling in Spencer’s muscles just yet, but he spares a glance at you as he nods, and a moment later, Hotch gives the two of you a curt nod of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a shade of irony colouring his voice. “If you two fill out the paperwork for in-team relationships for me, I’ll keep it to myself. I understand privacy is hard to come by in our office.”

The words take a while to fully sink in, and you’re conscious that you’re standing there blinking and gaping at your boss like a bemused fish for a good few seconds before you’ve composed yourself enough to say “absolutely, sir. Of course. Thank you.”

Hotch nods again, heading towards his own car, and as he passes the two of you, a brief smile flashes across his face.

“Congratulations, you two. Get some sleep.”

four months and three weeks.

Spencer isn’t sure how late it is, but he knows you’re not asleep yet, the faint glow of your phone screen casting faint distorted shadows across his room as your free hand rests lightly on his chest. In the dark blue twilight of his room, the space feels undefined and dream like somehow, the line between his mind and his surroundings blurry or indistinct somehow, and as you huff out a near silent laugh at something on the screen in your hand, a thought rises to the surface of his thoughts like flotsam on an unwanted tide.

The more clinical part of his mind notes the autonomic response in his body, the way his heart lurches unpleasantly in his chest, heart rate rising with an influx of cortisol through his nervous system, automatically rifling through ways to control the anxiety response. Age old instinct surges forwards, starting to push his spiralling anxiety down out of sight so as not to bother you with it, but then your hand shifts infinitesimally on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his pyjama shirt, and for once his body is miles ahead of his brilliant mind, your name is leaving his lips before he’s really aware of it happening.

Your gaze flashes up from your phone at the sound of his voice, soft and hesitant, and you let the screen go dark as you set it down. You can feel Spencer’s heart hammering against his ribs under your palm, and your brows knit together in concern as you shift closer to his side, tracing gentle circles over his shirt with your fingertips, the repetitive motion intended to soothe, though you’re not sure if it’s for his benefit or yours.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask softly, working hard to keep the rising worry from your voice. After three years of friendship and almost six months of dating, you know him well enough to sense when his propensity for overthinking and catastrophizing is slipping out of his control. You can feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, whatever he’s about to say cut off by second guessing, doing nothing to pacify your concern. “Spence? Is everything okay?” You ask again.

“This-bet-hiding our relationship-it’s-” he trails off, throat tight as he rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and smushing his face into the pillow, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. You’re the kindest person he’s ever met, but offering up this kind of raw insecurity feels like pulling teeth. Even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out if you care about him enough to stay when his racing mind gets the better of him. The pillow muffles his voice as he says “never mind.”

You feel your own heart rate tic up in response to that, matching the wild beat of Spencer’s that you could feel under your palm only a second ago. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden in the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

He can feel the rush of your breath on his back as you sigh, and your voice is almost achingly patient as you say softly “it’s not stupid if it matters to you.” There’s a long pause, and you press yourself against his back, settling close and letting your hand slide over his side to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin sinking into yours even through his thin shirt. In spite of his height, he feels so small as you wrap yourself around him, drawing closer, trying to reassure him without yet knowing what he needs to be reassured of. “Spence?”

“Are you ashamed of-being with me? Is that why you want to hide it?” The words are almost whispered, the sound almost lost against his pillow and your heart sinks, plummeting faster and further than if you’d dropped it off the side of a skyscraper. You should’ve known he might worry about that, should have realised it might have felt that way. Remorse rises hot and bitter in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to steady your voice.

“Spencer. Sweetheart. No. Never. I could never be ashamed. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your arms wrap more tightly around him and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, the tension you can feel in every inch of his body making you feel more cruel and short-sighted than you already do. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it might feel like that. I could never be ashamed of being with you, Spence. You’re my favourite person.” He takes the kind of shaky, shallow breath that comes with trying not to cry and your heart breaks a little more as one of his hands slowly moves to cover yours where it rests against his chest, just over his heart.

As his hand rests over yours, his thumb strokes lightly along your knuckles, and he knows you know him well enough to notice the way his hand trembles, just a little, because then your hand is shifting against his, turning to clumsily tangle your fingers with his, holding tighter to him as he tries to collect himself, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes squeeze shut. He can hear the contrition in your voice as you say softly “I’ve never really liked having people know everything about what’s going on in my life. And I love our friends but-something like this, that’s so-special? So new? I wanted to be able to keep it to just us for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes out a little shaky, scarcely more than a whisper, and it’s more than you can take as you pull back and gently force him to roll over to face you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glassy and you recognise the fight to keep the tears unshed in the tight set of his jaw and the hard line of his lips. Leaning on your elbow, you lift your free hand to gently smooth out the furrows of his brow, letting your fingers linger along the planes of his face.

“Why are you sorry,” you ask gently. “You don’t need to be sorry, baby. Not for talking to me about things that bother you. We can tell everyone else tomorrow, if you want? We can call off the bet. Derek will live. If he’s got a problem with it I’ll turn all his shirts into crop tops.”

He can tell the joke is a last bid attempt to make him smile, to ease his fear, and it works. In spite of the anxious weight in his chest that feels like it’s pressing him into the mattress, Spencer laughs weakly, meeting your eyes, and he watches as a relieved smile breaks across your face, releasing your lower lip from where you’d trapped it worriedly between your teeth. The unmitigated affection that floods into your eyes renders him momentarily breathless as he takes in the moment. You’re still here, still trying to take care of him. Just as kind and steadfast as ever.

“No,” he says eventually, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down on top of him like a living weighted blanket, letting your warmth chase the bulk of the tension from his body and luxuriating in the way you curl into him, one hand sliding into his hair. “We shouldn’t call off the bet. We still have to take Emily’s money, remember?”

Your sleepy laugh is the last thing he hears before his eyes close and the feel of your body wound around his lulls him to sleep.

five months.

SR: Can I talk to you about something?

DM: you dying or something? that’s a really fuckin ominous text to recieve out of the blue

SR: I’m not dying, why would that be what you assumed? I just have a question.

DM: just a figure of speech but what’s up?

SR: It’s about your bet with Emily. What’re the terms for it?

DM: wym?

SR: What exactly did you two make the bet about? What needs to happen in order for you to win the bet?

DM: does this count as collusion?

SR: Technically yes, but calling it collusion implies a certain degree of illegality.

DM: whatever anyway the terms i made with em were that you’d make some kind of move before your birthday but she reckoned you were gonna need some kind of near death experience to do anything about your crush why?

SR: I’m just making sure I have all the information.

DM: what’s going on pretty boy? you planning something?

SR: Maybe.

DM: not a helpful answer reid is everything good?

SR: Everything’s fine. We’re just figuring some stuff out. Nothing to worry about.

DM: is there something you’re not telling me?

SR: Don’t worry about it.

five months, three weeks and six days.

In the chaos that was the scramble from the briefing room to the jet, you haven’t yet had the chance to speak to Spencer about the outcome of his most recent thesis defence panel. By the time you’ve got a moment to breathe, the jet is underway, coasting across the country towards Montana, the whole team settled in for the six hour flight. You corner him in the tiny kitchen area of the jet as he’s making a mug of mediocre coffee, fingers tapping out an absent minded rhythm on the countertop as the coffee machine whirs, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his head.

“Hey, boy genius.” He jumps, whirling around, eyes wide with surprise, and you smile fondly. “So?” You demand, and Spencer raises an eyebrow in confusion. You snort, rolling your eyes as you elaborate. “Your defence panel. Did it go okay?”

You’re shifting your weight and fidgeting restlessly with the belt loops on your pants and as he studies you for a moment, it occurs to Spencer that you’re nervous for him over this outcome. The thought brings an almost giddy smile to his face.

“You know this isn’t my first thesis defence panel, right?” He says mildly, deliberately burying the lede, enjoying the way you scowl in irritation too much to answer your question right away, too enamoured with this display of concern on his behalf.

“Don’t be difficult, Doctor Reid. It’s still a big deal.” He just shrugs noncommittally, and you huff, swatting his arm lightly. “So did it go well?” You ask again, eyes narrowing as you try to dissect his microexpressions, trying to discern the answer he seems determined to keep from you for yourself. A few seconds later, he relents.

“I can now add degree number six to my wall.” He confirms. Getting degrees doesn’t hold the same rush of pride for him now, the accomplishment feeling somewhat less exceptional as he acquires more of them, but the way your face lights up with pride for him reminds him how special the things he’s capable of can be. You’ve always made him feel like more than the sum of his parts somehow, like something infinitely more precious than he always assumed he is.

“I fucking knew it. That’s amazing, Spence,” you say, chest warm and full with pride and love, and his almost shy smile in return is enough to make a decision for you in a split second. Your hand dips into your back pocket, drawing something out, and you carefully hide it from view in your palm as Spencer tracks the motion curiously with his eyes.

Your eyes are shining with affection and something that looks like mischief and the way you’re smiling at him is more than enough to divert his attention as you step closer, just barely noticing as you slip something into his hand. You’re dangerously, distractingly close now, and he’s conscious, if somewhat distantly, that neither of you is concealed from the rest of the team, scant meters away in the seating area of the jet. But you’re smiling and close enough for him to feel your breath on his face and suddenly your lips are on his, and even after nearly seven months of being able to touch you like this, it’s enough to make him forget everything else as he melts into the contact, savouring the warmth of your skin and the faint smell of your shampoo.

You pull back a second later, the kiss over almost as soon as it started, but it’s enough to attract attention, and you can hear a belated ‘oh SHIT’ from Emily in the main cabin of the jet. In your peripheral vision, you can see money changing hands, your friends scrambling to react, but you don’t look at them, choosing to enjoy the bemused, affectionate look on Spencer’s face as his brain catches up to the events unfolding around the two of you.

“I was tired of keeping it a secret,” you say fondly, loud enough only for him to hear. “You win.”

Blinking in confusion, he finally tears his gaze away from yours, fingers uncurling to reveal the fifty dollar bill you had pressed into his palm right before you kissed him. The penny drops and he snorts with laughter, shaking his head in half hearted indignation as his other arm loops around you, pulling you in, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face from the rest of the team as he kisses your temple, revelling in the way you wind yourself around him in response.

“I was gonna do this in like two days. I wanted you to win,” he murmurs against your hairline, and he can feel your faint laughter.

“Too bad, baby. I’m used to getting my way,” you say, pulling back to steal another quick kiss before peeling yourself out of his arms with a wink, turning to face the onslaught of ‘care to fucking explain that’ and ‘I fucking told you so’ from the rest of your friends, tugging him with you by your joined hands.

[ffeynn]

oml another enstars writing blog!! if its not too much, what about leo tsukinaga and hiyori tomoe hcs or scenario (whichever you like whahah) with a sleep deprived s/o?

ive been reading your posts and i love it so far btw (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

「 sleep deprived s/o: leo and hiyori 」

a/n: anon anon anon first of all thank you for loving my post!! and second,, uuu this is bad.. it's ooc yes ik but i just don't have it in me to make it better ah ah im sorry anon!

pairings: tsukinaga leo, tomoe hiyori x reader (seperates)

when leo opened the door to your room, he didn’t expect to be greeted with a sight of you drinking your coffeeーwait why are there so many cupsー, eyes slightly red and look at the bags under your eyes!

are you doing your work? if you’re then you should stop because he can’t bear seeing you like this. leo went straight to leap himself to your side, wrapping his arms around you making you caught off-guard. “leo?” you looked at your lover who’s practically latched to you.

“stop working! let’s go to sleep already.” he pulled away from you and dragged the chair you’re sitting on far from your messy desk which was filled with documents and such.

you turned to your back with your mouth pouting a bit, “but it’s afternoon leo and I still have work to be done.” if he wasn’t resolute to bring you to sleep, he would’ve given it up to you. no good, leo’s too weak when attacked with your puppy eyes.. although you didn’t even pull a puppy eyes.

the tangerine haired shook his head, telling you he refuses to hear those excuses. what care of afternoon when you clearly haven’t been getting enough sleep for days now! and you obviously should prioritize your health before work, if you get sick because of your overloaded work then leo will go meet your boss himself.

“nope, nope. I don’t care about that, you’re more important than that! you said your deadline is the day after tomorrow right? then we can go to sleep now, I miss cuddling with you~”

oh dear, if he says it like that, you’re for sure going to oblige whatever he’s up to. you missed cuddling with your boyfriend too so there’s no cons in this. begrudgingly not, you stood up from your chair and was about to walk to your bed when suddenly your legs felt weak. resulting in you to fall down except leo managed to catch you in the process.

the expression on leo’s face hurts you, was he that worried? you’re both thankful and guilty for that.

in no time, you were already under the blanket acting as a small spoon in your cuddling position with leo. his hand caressing your hair up and down while he hums a lullaby he made up for you on the spot. you never realized how sleepy you were until leo took you in his arms, putting you to sleep with his melodic voice and slow hair caressing.

leo looked at your face and realized you’re already asleep, he smiled subconsciously upon the peaceful expression you have. he doesn’t want you to get sick from sleep deprivationーleo doesn’t want you to get sick at all!

maybe sometimes sure, he can take care of you after all. anyway, now that you’re asleep, he’s going to go to sleep too. may he meet you in the dreamland.

“if you want me to stop staring at you then go to sleep.” he huffed at your stubbornness to keep on doing your work.

when hiyori heard the news of you being deprived of sleep for few days straight, he went to your house immediately once his schedule for the day had finished. lucky for him, today’s schedule ends early or he would’ve gotten in more trouble for skipping out.

which brought us to this situation; hiyori taking a seat beside you, never leaving his eyes off you while you restlessly typed into your laptop.

as much as he wants to take the laptop away from you and drag you to the bed, hiyori will believe the fact that you said you’re almost done. “and.. done. now to revise itー” hearing your decision of working more, your lover gasped.

“no can do sunshine, we’re putting you to sleep now! and if your boss has any complaints with you taking a rest after overworking you then I, tomoe hiyori will send my complaints.” the green haired stood up from his seat and held your hands tight before taking you to the bed despite your obvious reluctance.

even so, hiyori is right, you really need to be put to sleep. you didn’t even realize the lack of sleep you have is uncountable.

“you can’t do that hiyo.. alright, alright, don’t give me those eyes, I’ll go to bed.” you chuckled at how frustrated he looks. a thought flashed in your mind but to say it will be selfish. and yet, hiyori noticed that you wanted to say something. tell him! he’ll do anything for you unless it doesn’t go overboard.

“if.. ah.. do you mind laying beside me?” the smile that flashed upon his face made it seem as if hiyori had been waiting for you to say it. your speculation was right actually. he has been waiting for you to invite him and on the off chance you didn’t he’ll just invite himself to you.

hiyori quickly gets himself under the blanket, leaving no distance between you and him. sometimes the big spoon is hiyori and sometimes it’s you. today the big spoon is hiyori. as he let you snuggle onto him, face in the crook of his neck, hiyori left a kiss on top of your head. a goodnight kiss or so he says.

you better not wake up first! since you’re the one who’s sleep deprived, you should get more sleep than him. in no time did your boyfriend find you asleep and in no time did hiyori fall asleep along with you after leaving some more head kisses.

[yandere-sins]

I just finished reading all your Haikyuu Kitsune fics and I am obsessed. I was wondering what would happen if kitsune Suna just kidnapped the reader one night and she just wakes up in his Kitsune village tied up lol.

(╯‵□′)╯︵💗

Glad you enjoyed them! Thanks for reading & requesting ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««       

You were awake for a while already, pondering, when you finally heard the door to the basement open again. Even though you felt exhausted and anxious after the last few hours that you spent alone in the dark, you still mustered up the strength to glare, enough hatred in your gaze that the person entering the basement should have dropped dead if looks could kill. Person? Entity? You weren’t sure how to title him, but any name that came to mind wasn’t a very friendly one.

“You’re scrunching up your face... again,” he noted, and now pointed out, you grimaced even more. Suna either didn’t want to understand why you were looking at him, clearly finding discomfort in your gaze as he opted to avoid your eyes, or he decided to play dumb. Whichever it was, it only made you angrier!

“Seriously...” he mumbled, sighing deeply before placing down the tray he had been carrying, on a barrel next to the stairs. The whole basement was stuffed with things that seemed like they had been standing there for a while, unused and covered in thick layers of dust. Some of the stuff looked like ancient versions of modern tools for farming, but with that man nearby, your whereabouts were your slightest worry.

“I got you some food.”

Placing a spoon into the bowl he had brought, he stirred it briefly, a gooey, thick substance dripping of the cutlery when he lifted it into the light of the candle accompanying him. You, right away, felt anything but hungry, even if you assumed it was just oatmeal. Still, judging from the looks of it, you couldn’t find even one thing that was appetizing about it.

Taking the bowl with him, he walked over to you, a hand reaching out towards your face as you reacted, pushing yourself backwards until your back hit another barrel behind you. The metal chains wrapped around your wrists rattled upon your stir, making Suna flinch away for a second, his whole body stiffening as he looked back over his shoulder and up the staircase. He remained silent for a moment as if he waited for the door to open, but nothing happened.

“Don’t be too loud,” he reminded you for what must have been the fiftieth time since he threw you over his shoulder and made a run for it to this place, a strange, abandoned village in the forest. “They could hear you. Just be warned that other than me, my kin might eat you on the spot.”

Part of you wanted to call this a bluff—just a trick to keep you quiet. But knowing how unpredictable he was, you didn’t want to get to know any other ‘of his kin’ either. This time, you drilled a hole into the hand slowly approaching your face, strained your neck to get it off you. But lastly, he managed to pull on the cloth wrapped around your head and gagging you, making you fear more scratches from the claws on his fingers.

You didn’t know it was possible to feel sore around your mouth but being free of the gag it was the painful reality you were facing. “Eat,” Suna decided, gathering the gunk of a meal on his spoon before lifting it to your lips. “Fuck off!” you hissed at him quickly, turning your head away and making him struggle to hold the spoon properly, dripping its contents everywhere.

“I am doing this for you, you know?” he growled as you two fought over whether you were going to eat or not. Until Suna had enough, his second hand much quicker and less careful in its approach as it clipped over your nose, pulling you forward. You didn’t have enough time to see it coming, gasping as he cut off your air supply and tugged, making you open your mouth wide enough for him to press the spoon forward.

The taste of unseasoned oats and the wooden spoon mixed with your saliva while you tried not to gag from the slime that seemed to slip right down your throat. Before you knew it, Suna let go of your nose, and you didn’t hesitate to spit out whatever hadn’t been forwarded to your stomach yet, the mass spilling all over the floor.

Disgusted, Suna watched you as you coughed, wishing the taste would pass immediately, not even a hint of understanding in his gaze. “For someone so worried about food, you’re very wasteful. Open up, come on.”

You barely had time to recover as he scooped up another mouthful, but this time you felt ready nonetheless. Clenching your teeth together, you waited for him to do the trick again, deciding you’d rather suffocate than accept any food from him, especially one that you couldn’t be sure where, when, and how it was made.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he pressed the spoon up to your teeth, growing impatient as you wouldn’t open up no matter how much pressure he applied. Suna even gripped your chin from below, trying to slam both forces together, but you persisted. You would have been mighty proud of yourself for resisting if not for the oatmeal getting plastered all over your face, its consistency running down your cheeks and lips as Suna threw away the spoon in frustration.

“Fine!” he gnarled. “You want to show me how tough you are? I can do that too!”

As if on cue, the light flickered before going out, but even just the three seconds that you were able to see his bared teeth - his pointy fangs looking even longer than you imagined them from that time he bit you - scared you. It was the first time, but certainly not the last, that you felt yourself submit to him. Like an animal who tugged in its tail, you flinched away, ducking lightly until all you could see were his golden, shining eyes in the dark. Even if it was just a spur-of-the-moment action, you instantly felt embarrassed and upset you reacted the way you did.

“Good,” he appraised your recoiling motion before he moved closer. You felt his body leaning towards you, the warmth impossible to ignore as his arms caged you on either side, barrel in the back and fox in the front. You felt something wet and rough drag over your chin, lips, and cheek before you felt it trying to intrude on your mouth. Even if you wanted to complain, scream even, you found yourself cut off by Suna exploring the inside and catching your voice, the damn taste of oatmeal back on your tongue with no way of spitting it out.

His arms closed in on your hands, long fingers wrapping around the metal restraints and pulling your shoulders down until your hands pressed against the dirty ground, making it almost impossible to move your body like you wanted. The kiss continued, mouths opening for quick breathers in between, and you had to realize that these fangs weren’t optimal to be used for kissing, your teeth colliding with his a few times, and your lips getting caught on the fangs. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but every time it happened, you felt a spark of pain going through you.

The sounds very quickly changed from sloppy to passionate on his side, soft whines and groans escaping him in the breaks. You felt like you were going to die from either shame or the pain of him ending up dislocating your shoulders as Suna kept pressing in further and further, his chest soon enough resting on yours while your hands hurt from being caught in his grip and bracing against the ground.

All that was left when he very suddenly, very unpredictably, pulled away was the taste of iron as his fang finally managed to rip open a small part of your lip. You cursed inwardly as you took deep breaths, trying to regain air and your composure, while you barely heard him whisper something under his own breath. “... too much,” you made out, coming from him before he turned around, taking deep breaths.

“What the fuck--!” you cursed, but Suna was quick to return to you, clasping his hand over your mouth before listening intently. “Shhh!” he hissed, listening again, just like before. However, this time, you collected all the courage you had in you to bite him in the hand, catching a finger to latch on to. Suna noticeably flinched before he pulled away, seemingly looking at his hand for a split moment in an emotion you couldn’t make out. Still, before long, he clicked his tongue and pressed the gag he had taken off you back in place.

Even if you struggled now, he was stronger than you as well as relentless, and after tying a knot in the back, his hands lingered on each side of your head briefly. You could only see his eyes coming closer, but next thing you knew, you felt another kiss to your exposed lips before he seemed to notice the blood, his tongue coming forth to lick the wound tenderly, different from how he treated you before. “Fuck...” he whispered before he finally let you go and got up, his feet barely making any sound as he moved away.

“I’ll be back in the morning, don’t make a sound if you want to survive the night,” were his last words before he swiftly walked up the stairs and out the door, again leaving you behind all by yourself.

What were you supposed to make out of the situation? Why did he bring you here anyway if he was just going to leave you alone? What was ‘too much’, and why did he kiss you again and again? It felt like every time you saw him, you had more questions left unanswered than before. All you knew was that you wanted to go home.

And hopefully, this was just a very awful nightmare you’d soon wake up from.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.5 (NSFW!)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

'Cassandra's favorite', the other maids call you.

You can't tell if they mean it as a good or a bad thing. Hell, you can't even tell which of the two it really is.

Being her 'favorite' does not make you immune to harm in any way; bruises litter your shoulders and sides from when she grabs you too forcefully and cuts from her nails sting at your neck and stomach, renewed each time she comes to take a kiss.

None of that existed back when you were something of zero interest to her. On the other hand, she's told you several times you're 'a thing of beauty' --her thing of beauty-- and she won't let anything ruin a natural piece of art.

If you know anything about Cassandra, it is that she takes art very seriously. Your interpretation of the word greatly varies from hers, you're sure, but it doesn't change the fact she won't easily raise a sickle on you.

Cassandra won't break you. She won't let Daniela do so, either. Bela doesn't even care to hurt you. It means you're safe for now...

Unless Lady Dimitrescu decides you're best taken away from her daughter. Permanently. You don't dare meet her eyes, but you can feel them on you, scrutinizing, every night at dinner.

You're pretty sure she knows.

The thought sits heavy in your mind while you're cleaning bloodied steps off a corridor at three in the small hours of the morning, along with another maid. Adella is a quiet and hardworking one; the two of you make a good team and you know you'll be done in record time.

But it only takes a single moment for everything to go wrong.

Adella is hastily walking back to you with a bucket of fresh water in hand when you hear a different set of steps approach from the side. You make to warn her, but it's already too late.

The collision happens at the turn where the two passageways meet. As soon as you see black robes dripping wet you pray to whichever God will listen for mercy.

Because Cassandra has not been in a good mood all night and she is not the understanding type regardless.

Adella gasps and shakingly backs away, a waterfall of apologies spilling from her lips. Cassandra rolls her neck and draws her sickle, advancing on her slowly. She looks terrifying.

"Don't move now." she orders.

And you just- can't watch this. You don't know why, but the realization you cannot hits you like a speeding truck. You can't stand there while the the woman you frequently kiss cuts away at a girl you know is as good and compassionate as a human under your circumstances can possibly get.

You react.

Before you can even think how impossibly stupid you're being, you drop the mop in your hands and dash forward, crashing into Cassandra's form. Your right arm wraps around her waist and your left grips at her wrist like a vice. Your heart is pounding. You don't even know what you're saying;

"Cassandra, no! Please. Don't." Cold and rigid as she is, it may as well be a statue you're holding. "Cassandra, stop. Please." Once impulse dies down, you realize you've just signed your death wish for two seconds of playing hero.

And you thought you were smarter than that. Ha. But maybe, just maybe, part of you wants to die, so long as it's quick and painless.

With Cassandra, though, you doubt it. Especially with how lethal she sounds when she says:

"You. Disappear." You hear, rather than see, Adella scurrying off for her life. "As for you..."

You only register a blur, nausea, cold nails piercing at your neck, over already existing marks. You are shoved into the nearest wall so powerfully you can't breathe for all of ten seconds. It's a wonder you don't hear any cracks from within your body.

Cassandra is on you, her fingers harsh on your chin and breath chilly on your lips. "Good pets don't bark against their own masters. What made you so bold, hm?"

You don't answer, too busy summoning your mental strength for what comes next. The way her eyes and the lines of her pretty face have hardened, she looks nothing like the flirty girl who comes to steal kisses from you at random times during the night.

"Maybe I've been too nice to you. The first time you call my name and it's for some other maid?"

She looks like she wants to let out a bitter laugh, break something and slice you into stripes simultaneously. And then you realize; Cassandra is jealous.

It doesn't get any worse than that.

"Maybe I should make sure you never say anything again." The corner of her lips curls up in dark amusement as she talks. "You don't talk much, anyway."

Well. She did say she wouldn't let anyone ruin your looks. Never promised anything about what's on the inside.

You're shaking, even if her grasp doesn't leave much room to do so. Your brain is restlessly trying to come up with something to get you out of this mess-

"I'm of way more use to you with my tongue intact." you somehow manage to speak without stuttering. It makes you wonder where the hell this confidence came from.

Cassandra stills for a moment. Her grip eases the slightest amount, probably from surprise.

You wonder what the hell you're even doing, yourself, when you bring your hands to her sides and lean in, to the curve of her nice jawline. You've never kissed her neck before, but you remember from the times you've given her a massage that she's very sensitive around it.

Cautiously, you press your mouth to the soft spot under her ear.

She smells so good and her skin feels so smooth you're not exactly forcing yourself to kiss her. If you're going to be mutilated anyway, the part of you that must be severely messed up muses, you may as well take some pleasure for yourself beforehand. Who knows, it may change her mind along the way.

So you lick her there and suck over her faint pulse. You don't get any stimuli from her, at first.

Until her hand trails from your shoulder to your nape, urging you harder against her. It's the green light to keep going.

You put all your skill into it as you lavish her neck and collarbones with open-mouthed kisses. She's loose and moaning low in her throat now.

You can't tell why, but the sound echoes right though your adrenaline-induced system, tickles down your spinal cord to pool low in your stomach. You either had a kink for danger you never knew of, or you developed one in the castle.

Whatever the case, your fingers are working on the buttons of her outfit and she doesn't seem like stopping you has even crossed her mind.

When the robes barely hang onto her shoulders, Cassandra maneuvers you to the closest room, shuts the door and presses you against it. Hard. Your lips slide together hungrily. You taste wine on her tongue.

At this point, your hands are the only thing supporting her outfit on her. She looks too fucking sexy for words like this, half-undressed, lipstick smeared, so turned on and ready for you. But you also want to see more of her, so you let the black fabric drop.

She's getting impatient, though. Being more vocal, tugging your hand to the apex of her legs.

"Cassandra." you moan when you push the midnight lace of her panties aside and touch her. She's so wet.

Her mouth falls open in a soundless gasp, brows drawn softly. "Oh, you're lucky I like my name on your lips." she says, breathless.

You did start this trying to prove to her how useful your tongue can be attached to your body, however... so it's only fair that's how you finish it.

Finish her.

Cassandra looks dazed and confused when you kneel in front of her, but it's quickly replaced with a broken moan when you take her into your mouth. You revel in every single gasp you coax out of her, every minuscule shake of her perfect thighs.

She bites into her own hand when she reaches her peak, nails leaving four parallel marks on the wall.

You're gentlewomanly enough to pull her outfit up for her while she's coming down from her high. Your gaze takes its sweet time admiring the contours of her chest as you button it closed. She really is the most attractive girl you've ever seen, if you somehow don't take into consideration her body count.

"Good?" you ask when she opens her pretty eyes to look at you.

"It's not cute to be smug, plaything." Cassandra makes a soft grimace at you, though you can see the lazy, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of her lip. "But. I suppose your tongue has its uses to me, after all."

You gently push off the door to let her exit at her leisure. The movement makes you realize you won't really be able to move tomorrow, with how sore you already are.

To your surprise, Cassandra takes a moment longer in the room.

She turns back to you and raises her hands to your torso, then carefully adjusts your wrinkled shirt. Her long fingers smooth over the imperfections she caused...

And you don't know why after everything the two of you just did, it's this that feels the most intimate.

The same digits brush over your throat as she pulls away.

By the time your mind starts working right again, Cassandra is already gone. Absently, you trace over the weeping scratches on your neck.

-

-

Later, at the main hall of the castle...

"Oh, boo, look who's late again." Daniela rolls her eyes at Cassandra's fashionably delayed arrival.

"Surprise, surprise." Bela smirks, casually leaned against the side of the fireplace.

"Are you two done being insufferable or should I come by later?" Cassandra asks.

"And scar our ears and minds with another round of your 'oh's and 'ah's, sister? I think not." Daniela comments.

Bela raises an eyebrow in amusement. "Had a nice time?"

"You two have very active imaginations, you know? Tells a lot about you." Cassandra chuckles. "She was just giving me a massage. But do go on. Be thirsty. I can wait."

Daniela and Bela share a look, thrown off their game by the nonchalance.

Cassandra hides a smirk under her hood and steps out first, into the peerless dark.

[tarosin]

did i do that p2

paring implied past platonic tommy/tubbo/ranboo x reader

tw: cursing, de realisation, mentions of suicide/death/paranoia

TW: de realisation, mentions of suicide/death/paranoia

Dear quackity,

if you’re reading this, it’s too late. you’ve probably noticed me and dream are nowhere to be found, you may ask yourself why did sam let the pair out well the answer to that is simple. he didn’t i’m sure you can find what remains of him somewhere around the prison. you really have yourself to blame, now before you start to get defensive and say ‘i didn’t do anything this is bullshit everyone’s trying to attack me’ let me tell you why. before you decided to give us weekly visits just to abuse us mentally and physically, we couldn’t stand each other. I’d go as far as to say I despised dream, but you helped unite us against a common enemy..you. now we’re unstoppable. I'll spare you the details of what happened to your precious warden. see you soon - Y/n + dream :)

“do you think he’ll be convinced we killed sam?”

“dream i’m in here for the murder of a child, of course he’s going to believe it.”

of course the pair of you didn’t actually kill sam, dream simply manipulated ranboo whilst he was enderwalking into bringing supplies you’d need. you have no idea how he managed, but at this point you didn’t care. you know damn well you shouldn’t be in this prison as you didn’t kill michael. you knew this because the ghost, at least you hope it’s his ghost and that your mind wasn’t messing with you, would stand in the corner of the cell telling you that it wasn’t you who murdered him that night. It was a range of factors: the skeletons, fear, pure exhaustion of trying to run from the mobs after him. you often found yourself ranting to dream about what you had been seeing every night for the past god knows how many months at this point, but alas it was no use. he swore he hadn’t seen anyone but you, occasionally sam, and quackity, definitely not the ghost of michael. It was now midnight according to the clock hanging on the wall. the plan was pretty simple, you would scream that dream had disappeared, causing sam to run into the cell, from then you’d use the rope ranboo gave dream to make temporary handcuffs, and whilst you all make your way to the locker room, where you’d temporarily keep sam assuming quackity would find him sooner or later, then that was it you’d finally be free.

“ready?” you nodded and dream hid in the corner, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, but nevertheless you began screaming that dream disappeared, laughing to yourself as you heard the platform moving towards the cell.

“y/n calm down what do you mean- dream get off of me i don’t want to have to kill you but i will!”

dream rolled his eyes as you tied sams hands together.

“shut the fuck up sam, do you understand how pathetic you sound? you’re outnumbered you’re not going to do anything. if you know what’s good for you and your beloved quackity, you’ll tell us which pocket has your key cards in, okay?” this seemed to trigger something in sam as within 10 minutes you and dream had him in the locker room.

“bye sam, i’m sure your boyfriend will come and collect you soon enough, we left him a letter in the cell and a note from you where you always sit saying to just go on through, don’t miss us too much!”

there you both stood, in-front of the now locked locker room, no home, no friends, no plan, but you were free, that's all that matters to you.

“dream, i have something to ask, okay? promise no matter whatever happens, whether you don’t see me for weeks or you over hear something, you won’t come looking for me.“

“stay safe y/n, a lot of people aren’t going to be happy you’re out. whatever you do, avoid quackity.”

and just like that you went your separate ways, where dream went, you have no idea, you’ll probably hear something soon enough. as for you, well you didn’t really have a plan, you weren't really sure you wanted to be alive at this point. there was a little voice that sounded a lot like tommys ringing in your head, telling you to go to the old base you and tommy made years ago, so that’s where you went. you were clinging onto the hope tommy would be there and let you explain what happened that night, you’d make up then just like old times you’d plait his hair, as the pair of you sat under moonlight listening to whichever disk tommy felt like playing that night. this of course wasn’t the case, instead you were met with previous memories of your friendship. a photo book lay in the middle of the floor as if someone knew you escaped and would go to this base, you shut the door locking it behind you for your own safety, remembering what ranboo said to you the day you were thrown in the prison. picking up the photo book you noticed something odd, the words ‘i know what you did’ and ‘i know where you are’ were scratched into the leather cover. you threw the book onto the floor scared as hell. after you calmed down, you picked the book up from the floor, which was now open on the page of a group photo of you tommy and michael, which ranboo had taken the day you both agreed to babysit him for a while. as you flicked through the book, the images got dark. It went from photos of you tubbo ranboo and tommy laughing at the beach to the night michael was killed. the last page made your blood run cold, there was two photos, one was of michaels funeral, and the second was a picture of you sat in the middle of the base holding the photo book. this was the final straw. You were no longer in control of your breathing, you began feeling like you were being preyed on by something who really wasn’t happy with you and wanted you gone, you picked up the book one last time and everything was gone. the book was back to normal no threatening messages no pictures of michaels death or of you looking through the book, the cover was back to its original state full of happy memories of when you were friends with everyone, back when you were happy.

“hello y/n.”the rooms temperature dropped suddenly you began feeling like you were being watched, you turned around to see michael sat on the floor holding a photo book a lot like the one that caused you to panic.

“hey y/n why are my parents acting like they can’t see me anymore? this isn’t funny anymore, i miss them. can you talk to them?”

“michael... this isn’t real. you’re not real. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

everything went silent as if the world stopped turning for a few seconds, that’s when you heard the child laughing.

“what do you mean i’m not real? of course i am!”

“michael darling, you're dead remember, we spoke about this in prison. the skeletons shot you in the nether”

you continued talking to michael, not even realising ranboo had followed you to the base and was watching you talk to the wall.

“who are you talking to?”

you honestly didn’t know whether you felt relieved he was there with you or if you were pissed he found you, either way you ran to him pulling him into a hug despite him constantly telling you to let go of him.

“michael, he’s over there.”

“Is this some sick joke? There's no one there. he’s dead. you killed him!”

“ranboo please.. you, you don’t understand i didn’t kill him. please just let me explain what happened. he was surrounded by skeletons. they shot him please, you have to understand I loved that boy, I still do, I would never do something like that!”

“save it y/n, i don’t want to hear it now if you don’t mind i’m going to go tell sam that you have somehow escaped.”

you fell to your knees as ranboo walked away, you sat alone with the quiet comprehension of the ending of it all before realising if someone comes back you would be in big trouble, just before you was about to begin the long walk back to dream he showed up to the base you were currently crying in, not knowing tubbo and ranboo were not far behind him listening in to your conversation with dream.

“dream please i’m begging at this point. Please end my suffering. I can't do this anymore, no one’s listening to me. I CAN'T KEEP LIVING LIKE THIS! there’s a bow and arrow in that chest over there.”

“y/n, this isn’t a funny joke.”

“dream, do i look like i’m joking?”

“y/n..”

“hey, what can you say? we were overdue.”

tubbo and ranboo couldn’t believe what they were hearing right now, their best friend was about to die and there was nothing they could do about it. as soon as they heard dream open the chest, they ran as fast as they could to go and get tommy.

dream left straight away, it was hard to feel regret when you’re used to bloodshed. tommy couldn’t believe what tubbo and ranboo said and was convinced they were messing with him.

“Oh, I'm sure they did. how’d they get out the prison? did they fly out?”

he stood laughing, tubbo stood staring in disbelief, ranboo stood wiping his eyes trying not to cry knowing it would scar if he did. tubbo shook his head and grabbed his husbands hand for comfort.

“you’re really joking at a time like this?”

“we should tell phil.”

the three of them made their way to phil, guilt following them as they went they couldn’t believe what just happened. after they told phil, they all made their way to the base. as soon as the three teenagers saw the trail of blood dream left behind, they completely broke down and began walking, holding onto each other in an attempt to convince themselves this didn’t happen, and that you would be there. phil went in and saw your lifeless body laying there, knowing the others wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you like this, he sent them away to go and get technoblade. A few days later they found themselves sitting with puffy explaining what happened and what you had told them. realisation slowly hit them that you did in fact not kill michael, they felt awful the three of them couldn’t sleep since the day you passed. after the funeral, they often found themselves at your house as it was the only place that they could sleep and feel as though you were still with them. everyday they would visit your grave, placing anything they found that reminds them of you, and would apologise for not believing you sooner. now you were gone and there was nothing they could do about it.

tags:

@bozowrites

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

(I'll resend it then! thank you for your time) So, what about one where the reader tries to be nice to the Funtimes and Baby (refusing to shock them, repairing and talking to them, stuff like that) So when they try to get a new job Baby's like "I'm not letting you leave us." (Reader can be gender neutral or male, whichever you prefer!)

Apologies for the long wait, I hope you enjoy this one!

.................

“Huh, what’s this?” You mused as you briefly checked your phone, seeing an email regarding a second job you applied for.

Being an animatronic repairer, a lot of struggling restaurants with their own unique characters were looking to hire you. The most recent one actually wanted to hire you on the spot--if you quit your current job at CBEAR.

As appealing as it was, you frowned slightly as you glanced back at Funtime Foxy. You had just repaired their pheromone releaser after it had some kind of malfunction. The last renters have complained that the birthday cake scent smelled like rotten eggs, but now all you can smell is sweetness.

From the way the fox’s eyes lit up, you could tell they appreciated your hardwork. They even shook your hand as their speaker boomed with words of gratitude. And you just smiled back and sent them on their way to the auditorium.

You formed a close bond with all of the Funtimes, considering how they were left alone unless needed for parties--and how, well, you were mostly working solo in the darkness. 

Despite HandUnit’s instructions for you to shock them if they ever “misbehaved”, you could never bring yourself to do that. They weren’t just machines, in your eyes. They were like...friends in a way.

Although your job offer was incredibly appealing, you really didn’t want to sacrifice the memories you’ve made at this place. But you tried not to ponder over this difficult decision as you gathered your tools and headed to your last destination for the night:

Circus Gallery

..........

“Is something on your mind, [y/n]? You seem quieter than normal.”

“..a-ah, so you’ve noticed.” Looking up at the clown animatronic on the stage, you smiled politely at her, not wanting her to worry. “I’m okay. Just...had a busy night. You know the usual.”

“....I can tell you’re lying.”

“..what?” You did a double-take, confused.

“There’s a little perk that comes with watching all the children closely,” Baby whispered as she stepped off her stage. “I am acutely aware of their feelings..and whether they are telling me the truth or not. Such as when I ask if they’ve already received an ice cream cone from me. Many lie..and it makes me sad when they lie. When those you love and care about most lie to you...doesn’t it hurt?”

You didn’t know why, but for some reason her words formed a knot in your stomach. And suddenly you were uncomfortable being here all alone with her.

‘I wouldn’t put it past Mr. Afton to install a lie detector into them, but still...how does she know?’

Since she caught you in a lie, you had no choice but to be honest. “Okay, I’m sorry. You might not like to hear this but...I-I got a new job offer.” You sighed, trying to calm your nerves by cleaning the tables. “They’ve heard about my skills here and they’ll take me right away if..”

“If..what?” Baby’s voice grew more impatient.

“..if I quit this job after tonight.”

Only dead silence followed, and that made you even more worried as you slowly turned around--

Just in time to see the animatronic’s large form tower over you, closer than ever before.

“AH!!” Stumbling back, you managed to catch yourself by grabbing the table. A few party hats fell to the floor, but you could only stare up at her in fear. “B-Baby..this is why I-I wanted to stay silent...because I knew it’d make you angry..”

“Angry?” Her glowing green optics blinked, seemingly with confusion. “Oh..no, no...I could never be angry with you. It just makes me...sad. You’re the first and only compassionate employee we’ve seen here and..you suddenly want to leave us?”

“I...I don’t wanna abandon any of you.” You shook your head. “And that’s the truth. I haven’t accepted the offer yet.”

“And you won’t, will you?”

“I’m...sure I’ll be able to work in both places. Maybe if I can convince them and figure out a schedule-”

“But will you be able to see us as much?” She inquired. “We’ll be lonely if you spend most of your time there.”

“I don’t know if I can keep the same hours here. But I will not be abandoning you guys. That I can promise.”

Baby tilted her head, as if she was debating whether to believe you or not. But after a long silence, she smiled a bit. “Very well. I’m sorry for my..behavior from earlier. We just haven’t had such kindness shown to us in forever, and the news you shared had me...worried we’d lose that kindness.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let some jerk take my place and hurt you guys. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure I can still work here. If not, well..it’s their loss.” You said with full confidence.

“Good. You should get going soon.”

“Take care, Baby. Goodnight.” 

After bidding farewell, you quickly left Circus Gallery in haste. Only when you finally got to the elevators, and its doors closed, did you breathe a full sigh of relief.

She seemed extremely adamant on keeping you here--almost acting possessive in a way. You tried not to think much of it, though you made an important mental note:

Never lie to Circus Baby again.

[junko-and-riri-domain]

₊·˚♤˚· inconvenient | lhs ˚₊·˚♤˚·

↬ part of: 500 followers event <33 ↬ pairing: lee heeseung x reader ↬ genre: fluff | slight angst (happy ending dw) | idol!au  ↬ warnings: slight angst in that reader feels as if hee doesn’t have enough time for them bc of hee’s busy schedule and heeseung calls reader’s efforts inconvenient w/o realizing the weight of his words :( ↬ w/c: 1.4k ↬ requested by: anon, no specific name

As your eyes settled on the screen of your phone, reading Heeseung’s text message, you couldn’t help but scoff at it. You looked out the window of the cafe you were supposed to meet your boyfriend for your lunch date but he sent a text, canceling for what felt like the hundredth time this month. You could feel him slipping away from you with the other half of the bed empty almost every night, your dates constantly canceled, and your texts going unread. You decided not to respond to Heeseung, after all, what was the point? As you finished the remainder of your drink, you decided that you were going to enjoy the day to yourself regardless of whether or not Heeseung was going to be with you.

And that’s exactly what you did.

You explored the city and took your own pictures, found a new favorite trail to walk on, and bought yourself a new bag. Despite all the texts and calls from Heeseung, you ignored them all to give him a little taste of his own medicine. When you got home, you were more surprised than anything to see Heeseung waiting for you.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked. You looked at him, noticing how his eyes narrowed in on you and his arms crossed over his chest which caused his biceps to bulge out.

“Oh, so you care about me?”

“Of course I care, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well you canceled for the hundredth time today, I decided to have fun by myself.” His eyes cast to the floor, unable to look at you. You heard him let out a sigh as he muttered,

“I’m sorry.” You knew that when Heeseung became an idol, he’d have a busy schedule. You supported his dreams, had been there from the start but what good was your efforts when right now it felt as if you weren’t even in a relationship? Sure, Heeseung was sorry but you had heard the words thousands of times that you felt nothing anymore.

“How many times am I supposed to forgive you?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Babe, I’ve just been busy. You know how important promotion season is, I just don’t have the time for things like I used to.”

“I know that but you can’t even go on one damn date the entire month?”

“We spend all night practicing for performances that I’m better off spending the night at Jay or Jake’s instead of coming home. With the events we have along with the dates you wanna go on and your constant texts, it’s just inconvenient.”

“Inconvenient?” It was with Heeseung’s words that you realized, you had had enough. If your constant attempts to keep the relationship, well, a relationship turned out to be inconvenient to Heeseung then there was no point to it. If all the time you spent checking up on him turned out to be inconvenient then you had no reason to put in any effort anymore. You knew that work and his dreams were important but so were you.

“I didn’t mean it like that, there are things that I need to do and responsibilities I need to focus on-”

“Am I not important to you anymore?” As your ears were met with silence you felt your breathing caught up in your throat. Waiting for Heeseung to answer only to be met with no reply, through his hesitance you found your answer.

“Baby, I-”

“Forget I asked.” You walked past him, heading into your room and in the process shoving his shoulder. As the door slammed and you flopped onto the bed you waited. Waited for Heeseung to knock on the door, waited for him to say something, anything, but waiting only led to self-given heartbreak. You heard the opening of a door ringing throughout your ears but it wasn’t the door you had hoped. After hearing the key, you came to a realization. Heeseung decided to walk out.

Following the next few days, you and Heeseung entered a stage of your relationship you weren’t quite sure what to label as. It wasn’t that you broke up per se, but you weren’t exactly together either. Sure, you exchanged a few messages here and there but you could feel Heeseung slipping away or maybe it was you slipping away, you weren’t quite sure. Throughout the week, you found yourself unable to sleep. But one Friday night, that inability to sleep turned into a 3 am movie marathon spent on the living room couch curled up under your blankets and one of Heeseung’s shirts. You heard the front door open, glanced over to see the light turn on and Heeseung taking off his shoes.

“You’re up?” he asked, slight worry filling his tone.

“Couldn’t sleep,” was all you could bring yourself to say.

“Should I make us some ramen?” he offered.

“Yeah, if you want.” You stayed in the living room while Heeseung made his way to the kitchen. You didn’t know what to say, how were you even supposed to start? With your eyes settled on the tv, you entered a sort of daze where your head felt heavy and clouded with thoughts but your throat was unable to get any words out. It wasn’t until Heeseung was in front of you, blocking the tv that you drifted back to reality. You let out a small “thank you,” as the warmth of the bowl of ramen met your palms, couldn’t hold back your small smile as you saw that Heeseung had given you one and a half soft boiled eggs. When the both of you finished eating, you found yourself almost scared to talk to Heeseung about what went on that night. Your relationship was either going to continue, or it was going to end. As Heeseung reached towards the coffee table, about to take the bowls to the kitchen, your hand reached out to hold his arm, stopping him.

“Stay,” you whispered. Heeseung only nodded, settling himself so that he was laying on the couch with you. Face to face with him, you moved so that your head was laying on his chest. His heartbeat was calming, embrace comfortable, and scent making you feel complete. The next step in your relationship, or its end, whichever it was, you’d find out tomorrow. Closing your eyes, all you could do was wait.

When you woke up, your ears were met with a slight groan and the hold around you tightened. As you lifted your head up, a hard sort of knock was heard paired with an,

“Oww, what the hell?” from Heeseung. You brought up a hand to massage his chin while you felt him kiss the top of your head,

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be here when I woke up.”

“I, uhh, have something planned for us today. If you’re up for it?” Heeseung seemed kind of nervous as he spoke, avoiding your eyes and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You do?”

“A date, as an apology, because I’m sorry.”

“What about work?”

“I told our manager that I was taking today off.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re important to me and I hate that it’s taken so damn long for me to show it to you.”

While you got ready for whatever it was Heeseung had planned, he was making breakfast. After breakfast, he brought you to a festival you didn’t even know was going on. While you walked past the stalls set up, occasionally stopping to look at something that caught your eye, Heeseung’s hand stayed intertwine with yours. You had missed it, being with Heeseung, and feeling loved by him. When lunchtime came around, you ended at the park. There were both couples and families with a towel, eating food they had packed, but all of a sudden, Heeseung was leading you to a towel with a picnic basket.

“This is our spot,” he said. Your eyes went wide,

“You set this up?”

“Mhm. I know how much you love picnics and I figured… let’s go on one.” You sat down, unable to hold back your smile as Heeseung sat next to you. You really did love picnics, but more so with Heeseung. After eating, you laid down and looked up at sky feeling as if the world was so vast and wide. You found yourself looking at Heeseung,

“Y’know, keeping my head on the ground is really inconvenient right now.” Heeseung’s eyes filled with alarm,

“I’m sorry, I never should’ve said that.”

“It’s ok,” you said. And you meant it. “It’d be less inconvenient if I could use your arm as a pillow though.” As Heeseung’s arm extended, you rested your head on it while you wrapped an arm around his chest. Waiting often led to self-given heartbreak, but sometimes, it was worth it.

❦ written by riri ( @enhykkul ) | main blog masterlist | 500 followers masterlist 

tagging: @bloom-bloom-pow | @markleepooh​ | @sunshineshouchan​ (permanent taglist open if anyone wants to be on it !!)

[just-mebs]

Demospy for the ship thing maybe?

!!! @voidistooshortforausername this one is for you too 💖

Ask Meme

Who’s the cuddler? Demooo 🥺 my guy loves giving affection. Loves to hold Spy close while he naps, Spy is either reading or maybe its the one time he lets himself relax and just allows Demo to hold him. I think they are very soft alright.

Who makes the bed? Spy. Demo did it once but he "didn't do it right". Spy likes it a certain way so he just lets Spy do whatever. I also see Spy buying all the really expensive bedding and as much as he loves Demo, Demo is pretty sure Spy will kill him if he ruins it.

Who wakes up first? This one goes to Spy again. Def see him as a morning person reading with a coffee in his smoke room. The rare mornings he decides to stay in bed though you know he snuggles up close to Demo until he wakes up.

Who has the weird taste in music? Hmmm... I want to say Spy just because he's French and based off the one (1) French person I know they seem to like weird music (affectionately)... but also Demo probably loves to sing old drinking/sailor songs. Honestly I don't see either of them liking super weird music but they definitely has eccentric tastes.

Who is more protective? Demo in spirit, but Spy in practice. Listen, Demo knows Spy can take care of himself and knows that he's a damn good spy. However, Spy's still so,,, he's so tall and thin - could snap him like a toothpick - and he has some of the lowest health of them all + he's the one who's literally going into the enemy territory. However, Demoman is smart enough to know that him trying to help Spy would just result in him getting caught more often than not so he trusts him and leaves him to it. Outside of the battle field though,,,, Listen Demo would kill for Spy. Simple. Doesn't matter who. You disrespect Spy you disrespect him.

Spy on the other hand? He does have the ability to be there when Demo need's help in a fight. Taking out enemies silently, watching Demo's back, getting a cheeky backstab in or two? Half the time Demo doesn't even know what has happen til he turns around, and by then Spy is already slipped away. Off the field he's much like Demo still, disrespect Demo and you're one foot in the grave. The only difference is Spy's preference to use carefully crafted insults over his fits. Of course, he won't hesitate to further it, but he'd rather wait to be alone with you before doing anything rash.

Who sings in the shower? Demo!! I love the idea of him loving to sing so you know he's belting whichever song comes to mind every time he's in the shower. Its good acoustics and even Spy hangs around the bathroom door to hear a serenade or two from time to time. I think if Spy were to sing in the shower it would be more like a hum or whisper, something to keep his mind busy mostly.

Who cries during movies? Demo, he's such a softy I'm sorry. Super down with his feeling and emotions, he can't help it sometimes. I also honestly don't see Spy being a huge fan of movies? Doesn't hate them and will sit with Demo when he watches one, but would probably be reading instead of actually paying attention.

Who spends the most while out shopping? Spy. He just has a certain taste, Demo might poke fun at all of Spy's fancy doodads and how he's only deserving of the best, but he'd be damned if Spy doesn't get a new waistcoat or shoes. I also think that Spy would love to spoil Demo rotten. I think he buys Demo everything under the sun from sweets and flowers, to expensive coats and jewelry.

Who kisses more roughly? Demo ❤ I think Spy likes it, him being rough I mean. I imagine that Demo is typically a very soft and caring lover but the one time he was rough with Spy and Spy just o(-( got flustered and composure completely fell. It's his favorite thing to do to Spy especially in the open/around others because he knows how much it gets to him.

Who is more dominant? Demo, again, but for much of the same reason. He knows Spy likes it and is more than happy to give him exactly what he wants, so? Spy also has his moment though, however I think they come across as more possessiveness. "Reminding" (he doesn't need reminding) Demo as to who he belongs to. Demo finds it hot and doesn't complain when Spy decides to take more of a lead.

My rating of the ship from 1-10. 10/10. Personally my favorite Demo ship and within my top 5 favorite Spy ships too 💕 Big Sun/Moon energy.

[oneyeartoparty]

The brothers react to discovering they’re MC’s biggest fear

Wow the last few weeks have been hectic for me. Been feeling incredibly alone and don’t have anyone to talk to and found out I need surgery which will happen sometime soon. I’m glad to have gotten to motivation to get this out for you guys. I’ve a request coming next so keep an eye out. This one is based on how MC has been through so much and what if this affected MC greater than they realized? I hope you all enjoy this =)

WARNING: This react has spoilers for all of Obey Me up to Chapter 60

This story contains: Blood, mentions of death/murder, traumatic experiences.

Lucifer

Lucifer is cautious as he enters the room the bogeyman is hiding in with MC in tow.  Few things scare him, but what does are things he’d rather MC not know about.

Still, above all else he wants MC to be safe. If that means they find out something about him he’d rather them not know about, then so be it. Their safety and happiness are his priority.

As the bogeyman before them begins to warp its shape, he puts up his guard. With their combined power, Lucifer is sure the bogeyman, no matter which form it takes will be a triviality to deal with.

MC is too consumed by fear to see the shock and guilt consume Lucifer as, surprisingly, the bogeyman turns into him.

“Did you think you wouldn’t face consequences for your actions, MC? You’ve broken so many rules, interfered so much, that it's time you paid for your insolence with your pathetic human life!”

The real Lucifer was quick to banish his fake as it pounced on them. With it gone, he focused his full attention on MC, who was completely still, gazing at where the bogeyman once was.

He knelt, taking their hands in his own, rubbing them gently to slowly calm MC down. He told them he was sorry he’d scared them so badly. He would do whatever it took to fix his horrible mistake.

With a kiss to the back of their hand, he promised for as long as MC loved him, he would never do something to make them so scared again.

Mammon

Mammon was already terrified at the thought of facing the bogeyman again. Even a fake Lucifer was terrifying, and it was something he didn’t ever want to see again.

Still, with some gentle coaxing from MC, he followed them to face down the bogeyman. Once they enter the room, he moves behind MC to hide, while simultaneously bragging about how unafraid he is.

A rumbling begins that causes Mammon to jump. He sinks behind MC, awaiting the appearance of Lucifer, but to his surprise, nothing happens.

At first, Mammon is ecstatic! They’d easily banished the bogeyman without a scratch or scare. He is soon brought back to reality when he hears MC’s panicked cries.

“Mammon? Mammon can you hear me? Please don’t leave me again. Lucifer said you’d look after me and I’m confused and scared. Please come back, I won’t be annoying anymore. Please.”

At that moment Mammon comes to the horrible realisation that his abandonment of MC during their first few weeks in the Devildom when he saw them as nothing more than a burden had taken its toll.

He hugs them desperately, telling MC over and over that he is here and that if they wish it, he will never leave their side again. He tells MC that he’s sorry and that he loves them.

From then on, Mammon sticks to MC like glue. No matter where they go, he’ll follow unless they say otherwise. He promises to always be there to make sure they know they’re adored and never, ever alone.

Leviathan

It takes a lot of convincing to get Levi to accompany MC to confront the bogeyman, but he decides to go because the thought of MC going alone is something far worse than a fake, albeit horrifying copy of Lucifer.

Instead of Lucifer, however, what appears is another version of him in his demonic form. It looks furious, its tail flicking back and forth, knocking over lamps, leaving holes in the wall and smashing the window.

Levi though it would target him. After all MC had protection right? But it became clear and the creature turned to MC, its rage only increasing as it began to shout at the scared human.

“YOU CHEATED MC! I’M THE BIGGEST TSL FAN, NO ONE CAN BEAT ME IN A TSL QUIZ WITHOUT CHEATING!”

His copy keeping screaming at MC, looking ready to pounce at any moment. The real Levi for his part wanted to scuttle out of the room and forget what had happened. But he was spurred on by his love and need to protect MC.

Using his considerable power, he banished the bogeyman, the false version of him fading with a shrill shriek, leaving only MC cowering in fear.

Levi rushed to them, hugging them, peppering them with kisses (something that will later bring a blush to his face) and promising them he’ll never do anything to make them that scared again.

He keeps his word and is also careful to manage his temper when it comes to his passions while MC is around. He also does his best to work with them to help them overcome their fear.

Satan

Satan isn’t fearful of the bogeyman as he entered the room with MC. He wants the creature gone, especially after it scared his brothers so badly. Upsetting his brothers like that is not something he will let go of so easily.

He wonders what the creature will become when they encounter it. He doesn’t have any fears, at least any he will admit to himself, and MC has the blessing of Luke. Would it even be able to do anything against them at all?

As the door closed behind them the creature begins to morph. Satan decides to take this moment to banish it, wanting to be rid of it before it caused them problems. He pauses though when what appears before him is none other than himself in demon form.

“How DARE you compare me to Lucifer MC! How foolish I was to expect anything more from a sniveling, weak human. Now you’ll pay fo-.”

Before the copy has a chance to do anything more, Satan acts, banishing the creature from sight to some distant unknown realm.

The threat gone, he turned his attention to MC. They were still as stone, still scared of the image of him. Guilt floods him, and he rushes to MC, profusely apologising and begging them to forgive him. He has done so much damage to his love that he can’t forgive himself until MC is happy again.

Being the Avatar of Wrath, he will always have an angry side, but he does his best to calm down and refrain from getting out of control while MC is around. He also becomes far more affectionate, often snuggling with them as he reads them stories or watching cat documentaries.

Asmodeus

Asmo is worried about how ugly the bogeyman will make him. He knows that his greatest fear is being ugly, and it brings him genuine fear thinking of all the horrible, ugly versions of him the bogeyman could conjure.

The form the creature creates is of him, but he’s his normal, beautiful and dazzling self. He thinks it’s a trick for a moment, and he waits for the form to shift. Instead, it speaks, looking directly at MC.

“Why would I love someone like you? I’m perfection incarnate. You’re my plaything, someone I’ll discard like the rest. Don’t think my affectionate words are anything more than sweet nothings.”

Asmo turned to MC, who was now backed against the wall, their hand covering their face, but doing nothing to hide their sobs.

Asmo rarely becomes as enraged as he did at that moment. He isn’t one to not get angry, but true rage from his is rare. With all the fury and power he can muster he summons a portal and forces the bogeyman through, sending it somewhere it will never return from.

With the bogeyman gone, he turns his attention to MC. He approaches them slowly, moving beside them. He isn’t sure how to proceed. His heart is aching at seeing MC so upset and he wants them to smile that beautiful smile again.

He starts to name each and every part of MC and why he loves it so much. From their nose to their toes, he doesn’t stop until MC is smiling again.

From then on he showers them with affection and love. Every morning starts with a compliment and a loving kiss, and he always makes sure MC knows he couldn’t live without them.

Beelzebub

Beel enters the room first, wanting to shield MC from anything the bogeyman might decide to do. He’ll gladly endure whichever one of his fears the creatures summons if it means MC stays safe.

Despite his effort, as the bogeyman warps its form, what appears is him in his demon form. This form is angry, its stomach loudly growling also drowning out the angry words being spoken by the creature.

“WHY DID YOU EAT MY PUDDING, MC? THAT WAS MY PUDDING AND YOU’VE GONE AND EATEN IT. NOW WHAT AM I SUPPOSE TO EAT?!?”

As the creature screamed and shouted the sounds of shattering plates and crumbling brick echoed around, though nothing in the room was touched.

MC was terrified, backing away until their back touched the wall, too overtaken with fear to move any further.

Not wanting MC to suffer any longer Beel focused on banishing the creature. Focusing his power, the creating began losing shape. It fought him, but eventually, it faded from sight, banished back to where it had come from.

After the bogeyman is defeated, Beel approached MC. They’ve calmed down now the bogeyman is gone, but it has affected them. He apologises for allowing his hunger to overtake him so much that it caused them to fear him so much.

He gently hugs them, promising he’ll do whatever he can to help them overcome their fear and to never let his hunger overtake him so badly again, two promises he seals with a kiss.

Belphegor

Deep down Belphie knows what he’ll see if the bogeyman targets him and shows him his greatest fear. But he doesn’t want to admit it. The reality of admitting it is too much for him.

He accompanies MC regardless. He knows that together they can overcome whatever is waiting for them.

But Belphie didn’t fully realise exactly what the bogeyman would become. It began to take shape the moment the door shut behind them, forming into him in his demon form, fresh blood dripping from his hands and tail and splattered all over his clothing.

“Guess you are just a stupid human, huh? Falling for my silly trick you deserve to suffer and die like this.”

MC is petrified, begging him to not hurt them. It was MC’s fear that inadvertently spurred on their magic, banishing the creature without them realising.

With the bogeyman gone, Belphie could only stare at MC. He didn’t realise how much what he had done hurt them, and now that he did, he feared no matter what he did he would only make it worse.

Everyone waiting outside bursts through the door after hearing MC’s cries, and goes over to comfort them. Belphie decides to leave and return to the mansion and begins avoiding MC, thinking it better he stayed away.

It takes MC approaching him with Beel for him to talk with him, rather than leave the room. They talk and both agree to work together and heal so they can move forward, starting their journey with a hug and a kiss.

[aquilaofarkham]

title: the little death rating: T+ word count: 2,409 summary: Two years after his fight with Death, Trevor’s injuries start catching up to him while Alucard realizes that humans are more fragile than he thought. 

For @trevorsmellmont ❤️  Thank you so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

There’s a sharp pain pooling beneath his right arm, coursing through his ribcage. Trevor ignores it just as he’s ignored all the other aches, jabs, and stings over the past two years. Two years of building something better, something sustainable to last far longer than its young, admittedly green founders. Countless days, weeks, and months erecting homes, gardens, and pens for those dumb gentle animals who think the entire townscape is their personal pasture. Not another mistake of allowing them to wander aimlessly straight into the castle. As if heifers need to learn how to craft medicine or conduct what’s being referred to as “electricity”.

The work will never be finished. Even on days like this when the sun burns hotter than any circle in hell. A few drops of warm salt-ridden sweat crawl past Trevor’s pressed lips and into his dry mouth. Pain and thick heat were never enough to stop him before—he tells himself this, barely certain of his own supportive thoughts (a new concept taking root in his mind). Take it slow, don’t push yourself, idiot. This cabin made from the earth will get built eventually. Another family will receive their forever home to fill with lots of babies. Old wounds beg to differ as Trevor’s arms begin to weaken, each movement slower than the last, struggling to keep up with Greta’s superior pace. She’s always known her way around a mallet.

Another bead of sweat gets caught in Trevor’s lashes, sparing his eyes from temporary discomfort. Though it wouldn’t have mattered as they’re already past any sort of respite. He looks for distraction but can only see the blurred shapes coming from a huddle of bodies, despite being a short distance from them. He knows it’s only Sypha and Alucard with the village children, which gives Trevor some relief.

There’s more comfort to be felt when he remembers that one of those little monsters is his own, nestled in Sypha’s lap then placed in Alucard’s gentle arms. She has a name far too long for any toddler to pronounce—Elizabeta Belnades Tepes Belmont—so what rolls off her developing tongue instead is simply “Liza”. She’s innocent now but once she leaves this little man-made paradise and ventures into a harsher world, she will take more after her mother and father. Grabbing whatever life offers with both fists, clawing and biting her way through every obstacle until her teeth are reddened with bloody meat. For the time being, they relish Liza’s soft cheeks, wispy hair, and the way she throws herself at whichever adult happens to be in her nearest vicinity. The other children are helping her socialize by playing games and embracing frivolity; a tactic Trevor remembers from his own upbringing, though with less games and even less frivolity. 

“Think you can handle one or two more?”

Greta’s voice manages to cut through Trevor’s mental fog. Funny how she asks if he can “think” about anything especially at this suffocating moment. She must have noticed the way his lips curl into a happy doped up grin while observing his family and couldn’t help but inquire. As any close, loved and valued friend would.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with looking a bit further into the future? Now that we all have one.” 

“Looking is one thing, but seriously suggesting is something else completely. My… performance in certain areas isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be.”

As Trevor says this, things deteriorate and get a bit fuzzier from his eyesight down to his chest. Out of focus. Painful. He keeps talking, keeps ignoring the inevitable. Always ignoring what his own body screams for.

Greta wrinkles her nose at his statement. “There are children present, Belmont.”

“What? I’m referring to the house. I barely managed to get one wall up while you’re already on the fucking roof.”

“So dramatic. You three really do deserve each other. And you’re still young.”

“On the outside, maybe.”

She laughs at his lie, misinterpreting it as another piece of mild self-deprecatory banter he might never be able to live without. Greta says something else, perhaps her own personal jest to counter his, but Trevor cannot hear. Breath grows heavier, forcing out a raspy “it’s fine. It’s just my chest”. Barely able to tell if Greta actually said anything about his sudden condition. Or rather, not so sudden. No, this has been building over quite some time now. His muscles and bones screaming, begging for relief or death, and end to everything—whichever comes first. Feelings that only worsened over the years.

Trevor loses control over his legs, now practically boneless. The collision between his head and the ground is nothing compared to the inner war over his heart. Whether it will finally succumb. Greta immediately calls for help—he thinks without confidence, once again. Trevor can still hear voices, but not their exact words. Not Sypha when she demands to know what happened. Not Alucard when he begs for him to stay conscious. Not even Liza as she cries for her papa.

Then all the chaos in the world fades into slow darkness.

--

Alucard stands outside the closed bedchamber door, contemplating how often he’s touched Trevor’s body. Lithe fingertips have memorized every crevice, scar, soft and rough spots alike. Not just as a lover with wandering hands underneath blankets in the dead of night. Or a friend who holds him steady on both feet when he needs it. But as this family’s self-appointed physician. 

Perhaps the prince of two worlds took after his father after all. “Polymath” is what Alucard used to describe Dracula and the very same word others have referred to him as, mostly in the realm of medicine. He knows more than anyone, little offence given towards the herb dispensers and leech farmers (only to be polite for his own townsfolk). Thus, through the anxieties and trembling hands, Alucard gave Trevor his diagnosis: heat exhaustion along with a muscle somewhere in his chest that decided to go rogue and strain itself.

The son of Tepes, the only local doctor worth trusting, and arguably the co-leader of their little prospering hamlet paces across the hall like Trevor did the day Liza was born. He’s on the other side of that closed door, resting. Bedridden from heat exhaustion and a fucking pulled muscle. It bothers Alucard. This shouldn’t have happened to someone who stood up to the personification of Death and pissed in his eye. A stupidly common and easily treatable inconvenience to the human body shouldn’t be the end of a fucking Belmont.

It shouldn’t—unless Trevor’s scars have anything to say about it. The ones on the inside and outside. Inside, unseen, and untreatable. There’s a harsh revelation to be found there; one which the prince has been purposefully avoiding up to this moment. Alucard can try as he wants, use the tools left behind by his father and mother as though it were their final death wish, but he might never tend to what pains Trevor on the inside. He’s a Belmont, undeniably so, but Belmonts are human despite the many recurring signs pointing to the contrary. Then there’s Sypha with her magic, but she’s human as well. Greta and Liza are still human. Humans are more susceptible to dying easy, little deaths even when they follow world-saving victories.

Where does this leave Alucard? Thoughts spiral down, down towards darker places the longer he nervously hovers outside the bedroom. He’s been known to awkwardly stumble into deflection, insisting he’s only half human whenever certain someones bring up this topic of necessary conversation. Meaning he might as well not be human at all. Not when the bodies of those he loves change so rapidly while his remains petrified. It’s only been two years, filled to the brim with countless hours he wouldn’t ever want to trade for the entire world. But the thought of one night as they nestle themselves into bed and Alucard touches either Trevor or Sypha’s chest only to feel an anomaly within their hearts. The earliest sign that time and age will eventually betray them as it does for all mortals—it could be the one thing to break him.

Alucard stops himself at the opportune moment, right before he starts thinking about his mother and father. Did Dracula ever contemplate Lisa’s mortality? Was the decision to never turn her easy or the hardest thing he forced upon his unstable, immortal conscience? Arms crossed over his chest like a protective cage, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt until it hurts, Alucard swallows a bitter glob of spit and reaches for the doorknob. Sypha will have to accept the fact that he couldn’t wait for her. He quietly thanks her for the lessons she taught him. If he needs to talk about something—truly talk, no sarcastic wit or banter, just the raw emotions—Alucard no longer hesitates. He won’t, not as he enters the room and immediately sees Trevor still in bed, not quite altogether there. At least he can manage a decent smile and wave of his hand.

“Evening.”

“How does your chest feel?”

“Still a bit tight, but I’ve been taking deep breaths like the doctor ordered.”

The amount of strain heard in Trevor’s voice worries Alucard. Hopefully the Belmont has learned something from the recent past, so he won’t be stupid and suggest anything having to do with leaving bed or getting back to work.

 “I think I should get up.”

“I think that’s a poor decision.”

“Are you saying that as my physician or because you’re letting that pretty little blonde head of yours get too worked up?”

No. Yes. Both? If only Trevor didn’t look up at him with those glassy eyes (can he still see him?) the colour of stained glass windows erected in cathedrals he felt so unwelcome inside. If only that smile, somehow both soft and shit-eating, wasn’t in place of a more serious expression. Then maybe Alucard could voice his concerns without being accused of acting overbearing—an accusation grounded in solid evidence but he’s not ready to admit that yet. Not out loud.

“Normal, healthy adults do not become bedridden after pulling a small muscle in their chest.”

“Belmonts aren’t normal… or healthy in my case.”

Alucard’s brow furrows. “I want to think you’re healthy—” I need to. “—that you’ll live long enough to see the children of this village have little ones of their own. Liza included.”

“God’s sake, she’s only two years old. You and Greta, always talking about looking one step too far into the future. Let her be a child before adulthood rears its ugly maw.”

“Try not to change the subject.”

Trevor lifts his head off the indent pressed into his sweat drenched pillow. “Alright. Fine. I feel much better. I won’t push myself and give my heart some more time to recover.”

No response coupled with broken eye contact; sure signs of Alucard’s reluctance to accept his rather weak assurance. The Belmont has no other choice.

“Come here. Sit.”

Another moment’s hesitation before Alucard complies. Feeling his weight upon the mattress, Trevor blindly reaches for his wrist until calloused fingers grip cool, unblemished skin.

“Now lie down. No, no. Not like that. Place your head right here.” He pats his chest and with a fleeting amount of guidance, Alucard’s cheek fits perfectly between his breasts. Two hands smooth over the dhampir’s curves before one before one rests on his silk smooth head and the other against the small of his back. Alucard lied about one thing: his own body can change in small yet noticeable ways. Without the need to fight for the lives of others, whether today or tomorrow, sharp edges turn softer. Trevor and Sypha have finally let themselves breathe as well, let go, and enjoy all of life’s pleasures.

“Hear that?” He asks Alucard.

“... It’s slow.”

“Slow and strong like it should be.”

Alucard wishes he could bottle up that heartbeat or place it in a box. Preferably a music box to listen to its soothing melody long after its original body and soul are both eventually gone from this world. Who knows? It might make things hurt a little bit less like when he redrew his parent’s portrait or built a much larger nursery where his own used to be. Not a lot, but Alucard could possibly live with just “a little”.

“Speaking of Greta…” The baritone of Trevor’s voice sends deep vibrations through his broad chest, tickling Alucard’s cheek. “She said something about more children.”

“More orphans joining us?”

“No, even though I know how much you love those damn orphans. She asked if we could handle one or two more.”

“What did you say?”

“I implied that she was taking after Sypha’s influence by being wonderfully insane.”

Alucard chuckles in agreement. That sounds like Greta. “You never know. It might be good for Liza if she has a younger sibling.”

With the sound of Sypha’s well timed arrival, he’s mercifully saved from Trevor’s lengthy speech about how patience is apparently a virtue and tirades about his “performance” or lack thereof. Greta reveals herself shortly afterwards with a still crying Liza in tow. So many bodies gathered around one inebriated individual, here for him and him alone. Trevor’s consoled yet exasperated expression directed at Greta in particular says “isn’t there someone more important you could be helping right now?”

Sypha is the first to voice her gratitude after fussing over her exhausting loved one. “I will never be able to thank you enough, Alucard.”

“I think the bed did most of the heavy lifting, love.”

Trevor is given an affectionate, somewhat caring glare in response but his focus is demanded elsewhere once he suddenly notices Liza jumping onto the bed. She snuggles herself between him and Alucard, wetting their shirts with her tears.

“Easy there, you little monster. Papa’s still a bit tender.” Not that she can understand or care.

There’s an aura of relief felt amongst everyone in the room—less with Alucard who smiles bittersweetly. It’s a truth he knew he had to acknowledge before it tore his heart open. Trevor and Sypha will die one day and he will have to bury them. He’ll bury Greta, he might even bury Liza. Not today thank all the gods, or tomorrow, not for the next few decades if fate is kind enough. 

But the day will come. And it will be Alucard’s own little death.