#he's trying his best to figure out this human affection thing

[fandoms-x-reader]

Sensitive! MC

Requested By: @fairwish

Summary: The brothers' reaction to an MC who is sensitive and gets upset about not having anyone who cares about them in the Devildom. The Demon Brothers x Reader Word Count: 3,064

This doesn't have Belphie because of the lesson it's based on! Sorry <3

Based on Lesson 6-15

You had been torn away from your life and taken to an unfamiliar place full of creatures that humans portrayed as scary and evil.

You didn’t know anyone in the Devildom. You didn’t have anyone who cared about you or that you could talk to about the trouble you were experiencing.

You were all alone, terrified, trying to figure out how exactly you ended up here.

And to top it all off, none of your new acquaintances seemed to care.

They all carried on without a worry in the world - as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a human to be in Devildom.

They didn’t do anything to try and soothe your pain of missing home or calm your fears of being surrounded by demons.

In fact, some one of them - Mammon - spurred them on by threatening to eat you if you didn’t listen to them or do as they asked.

You did your best to put on a brave face, to pretend as though their words and actions didn’t affect you as much as they did.

But it was hard to keep your composure when it was clear that not a single one of them cared about you.

-

You made your way to the Assembly Hall, your heartbeat still pounding in your chest.

You had just left the music room where you had a very intense one-on-one conversation with Lucifer after your near-death experience where you tried to save Beel and Luke.

“Hey, how about that Y/N, you’re alive!” Mammon stated as you entered the large room, a smile on his face that you weren’t sure was one-hundred percent genuine.

“Let’s see…yep, you’ve still got both arms and both legs. Your eyes are still in their sockets, and your ears are still attached. Guess you’re okay,” Beel added.

“I want to know what Lucifer did. You’ve got to give me the deets L-8-R, yo!” Levi said, a bit too excitedly. 

“Whaaat, you’re still alive? Well, that’s boring,¨ Asmo replied, a small frown on his face, as if he was disappointed

You want to scoff at their reponses. How could they be so nonchalant with everything that just happened. How could they not care at all that you almost died trying to protect their brother.

“Of course. Unless he went crazy again like last night, Lucifer wouldn’t hurt Y/N,” Satan stated, the mention of your name bringing you out of your thoughts.

“And do you know why that is, Y/N?” Satan asked you, a small smirk resting on his lips as he asked the question.

You wished it was because Lucifer liked you. Or at the very least because you were a human. But you the knew the answer.

“Because I’m an exchange student,” you replied, softly, casting your gaze away from the demons standing in front of you.

That’s all you were to them - a business transaction. A pawn that was being used to ensure Lord Diavolo’s vision came to light.

“Exactly. I see you have a good grasp of what’s going on here,” Satan replied, and you felt tears begin to sting your eyes.

“If anything were to happen to one of our exchange students, it would make Lord Diavolo look bad,” Satan continued to explain and you took a deep breath in an attempt to steady your emotions.

“Lucifer would never do anything to harm Lord Diavolo’s reputation,” Satan added and you felt the ties that had been previously holding you back snap.

“You know, I actually forgot about that. For a moment, I was starting to think that Lucifer might actually care about me. Thanks for me reminding, Satan,” you replied sharply, your angry eyes locking with his surprised ones before you left the Assembly Hall.

Satan hadn’t expect such sarcasm to come out of you - such wrath. None of them did. 

You had passed Lucifer and Lord Diavolo on your way out of the Assembly Hall and they could feel your irritation radiating off of you.

They didn't follow after you though, instead turning their attention to the five other demons inside the Assmebly Hall, silently demanding an explanation as to why you were so upset.

Lucifer thought that he had patched things over with you after your conversation in the music room.

He wasn’t the best at apologizing but he was sure that he had gotten his point across about how regretful he was over his actions.

He thought that you had accepted his apology and that things were okay, but after seeing you storm out of the Assembly Hall, we was no longer sure that was true.

After his brothers told Lucifer what happened before his arrival, he thought it would be best if he went and checked on you himself.

He found you in the courtyard, remnants of the tears you had previously shed streaking down your cheeks.

Lucifer wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. Mostly, because he wasn’t exactly sure why you were so upset.

It took a little bit of time, but when you finally opened up and told Lucifer about your troubles, he was surprised. 

He was surprisingly sympathetic to what you were going through, but he didn’t exactly let that side of himself show.

He had already apologized to you for his part in causing you discomfort in the Devildom and he was the Avatar of Pride, after all, so getting a second apology was a tall order, and an unlikely one.

But, you did notice Lucifer doing small things around RAD and the House of Lamentation.

It could be simple things that provided more comfort for your life in the Devildom or moments of appreciation that Lucifer treated as trivial but ended up meaning more to you than you thought it would.

After that conversation with Lucifer, one thing was clear - he and his brothers weren’t treating you right and they needed to make amends for that and correct their course of action.

Mammon could arguably be the most sensitive among his brothers when it came to certain things.

He had his fair share of moments where he felt like he didn’t matter to his brothers and times where he felt like there wasn’t a single person in the Devildom that cared about him.

So, he knew just how devastating those thoughts could be.

When you first arrived to the Devildom, Mammon’s concern was making sure that he made himself out to be intimidating and indifferent towards you so that he could have the power in the friendship.

He wanted to dictate when and where the two of you would go and how things were done. After all, if he was going to be your babysitter, he wanted full control of the situation.

But that didn’t really work out for him, and it didn’t take long for him to not only have to bend his knee to your will - but he wanted to.

The truth was he had fun with you and you always found a way to make him smile. Though, he refused to say anything like that. Hell, he refused to even think anything like that when he was around others.

But, when you had your outburst in the Assmebly Hall, Mammon had seen the pained look on your face. The same pained look that he had seen on himself in the mirror.

He followed after you almost immediately, not letting you get too far before he caught up and pulled you into an empty classroom.

He stood in front of you, silence filling the air as you did your best but failed to hold back your tears.

Mammon dared himself to reach up and use his thumb to brush away the tears that were rolling down your cheek.

“I’m sorry, it’s just hard to keep it together when no one around you cares about you,” you stated, barely above a whisper as you kept your gaze on the ground.

Mammon felt his heart shatter as you spoke those words. He knew that he was at fault just as much as his brothers.

He wanted to tell you that he cared about you, but every time he opened his mouth to speak those words, they got lost.

So, instead he pulled you into his arms, hoping that his gesture would be enough to prove you wrong.

Hoping that you would see that even though he had a tendency to act aloof, on the inside he was screaming for you to show him attention and to care about him the same way he cared about you.

Levi isn’t the type of person who knows how to handle this kind of situation.

He wasn’t even planning on going in to school today. He was perfectly content with doing his studies from the comfort of his bedroom.

But, ever since he made a pact with you, he had to admit he felt some sort of desire - a very SECRET desire - to spend more time with you.

The idea that his brothers would be hanging out with you at school while he was sitting at the House of Lamentation, missing out, was enough to spark the sin that he tried so hard to control.

And now after seeing everything that had just happened, he was heavily regretting his decision to leave his room.

Because now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

On one hand, he wanted to disappear back to his otaku haven and pretend like he never saw your outburst

On the other hand…he couldn’t. He felt like he had to do something to help, and the feeling only grew when he didn’t see any of his other brothers moving to go talk to you.

His social anxiety was skyrocketing, but he couldn’t leave a fellow TSL fan in their time of need. That was the reason the told himself when questioning why he was doing this.

When he finally did find you, he once again froze in place as he tried to figure out his next move. He didn’t expect to find you crying.

He found some nearby tissues and slowly approached you with them, relaxing slightly when you gently took them from him and began wiping away your tears.

Levi managed to ask you why you were crying and when you explained it to him, everything made sense as to why you snapped at them.

Levi was almost always self-depracating. Sometimes it was easier to tell yourself that no one loved you then get your hopes up and get hurt. 

But he didn’t want you to go down that rabbit hole - because it wasn’t true.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but he was going to find a way to show you how much you meant to him and his brothers.

He was going to prove how just in your small time there, you had already changed at least three of them for the better. And it wouldn't be long until the others followed suit.

Levi might not have the perfect words to say or the perfect way to cheer you up, but what he did have was a true friend.

And you may have to wait a while until he’s comfortable enough for him to tell you that. But, in the meantime, he’ll do what he could to show you that at least one person cared about you.

Satan had been the one you snapped at, so he was by far the most surprised.

For one, he wasn’t exactly sure what about his statements made you so angry.

He wasn’t trying to be rude or offensive, he was simply stating the facts about Lucifer.

For two, he didn’t think you had such rage inside. 

In a somewhat twisted sense, he dared to admit seeing you portray his sin gave him a small sense of gratification.

But, that thought was at the back of his mind. At the front, was trying to talk to you about what happened.

He took some time to properly analyze the situation. He tried to come up with every possible reason that could have caused you to lash out.

He wanted to have a response to any situation so that when he did talk to you, he wasn’t floundering for words.

He found you in the library at the House of Lamentation a little while later and he was grateful you were in a quiet and private place that he just so happened to be comfortable in.

You looked up from your book for a moment to see who had entered before returning to your fictional world. 

Satan came to sit down next to you and paused for a moment before saying, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

It was a much more sincere apology than you would expect from the Avatar of Wrath and it was enough to pull your attention away from your book.

“It’s not what you said. It’s what it reminded me of,” you replied with a small sigh.

“What did it remind you of?” Satan questioned, his eyes holding no malice but a hint of curiosity

“That I’m alone down here. That I don’t have anyone to turn to or talk to. That I don’t have anyone who cares,” you replied softly, your eyes looking away from Satan’s intense ones.

Satan had thought about this being one of the reasons, but he was stuck in a mental debate.

He was so used to being apathetic but something about the way you opened up to him melted his heart and he suddenly felt an innate desire to protect you.

“The library is a great place to go if you’re feeling lonely,” Satan stated.

It was always his comfort place, so he saw no reason why it couldn’t be yours.

Not to mention the fact, that he was typically in the library and maybe a small part of him was hoping that he could also be something you sought out when you were feeling lonely.

Asmo didn’t really understand the weight that his words carried until you were angrily walking out of the Assembly Hall.

As soon as you disappeared from sight he began questioning himself. Did he really say it was boring that you weren’t dead?

He had meant it as a joke when he first said it. It was a joke that most demons would find funny and he was so good at trying to be a people pleaser.

He was used to making those kinds of jokes because it would boost the way he looked in front of other demons and we all know how important his reputation was to him.

But your outburst made him realize how it must have sounded to you - a human who had been torn from their world and thrown into one that was vastly different. 

And a twinge of guilt poked at his heart, gradually growing in intensity until he felt like he could no longer stave off the need to apologize.

He found you in your bedroom and was thankful that the two of you would have a moment to be alone.

His apology would be so much more genuine if it was in privacy where he could drop the mask he constantly wore in public.

When you opened the door Asmo suppressed a gasp as he saw tears rolling down your cheek and the guilt only continued to eat away at him.

He had always thought that crying was such an ugly thing. But when you did it, it had a certain elegance.

You had a way of making anything you did beautiful. It was a trait that Asmo was actually quite envious of.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Asmo said, the words spilling from his lips before he had even fully registered what he said. 

You were confused by his sudden confession and as you tried to find the right words to reply with, he continued.

“I'm glad you're okay. And I'm sorry I made you cry," he added.

Asmo grabbed a nearby tissue and gently brought it to your cheek, dabbing away your tears.

You knew that what he said was probably a joke, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

You opened up to Asmo and explained why it hurt so much to hear everyone say those things and it was like a lightbulb went off in Asmo's head.

He completely understood where you were coming from and he hated that none of them even thought about how hard it would be for a human to adjust to life in the Devildom.

In an attempt to show you he cared about you, Asmo will turn up his charm 100% on you.

More compliments, more hugs, really anything he could do.

And if that wasn't enough he would take you out with him and introduce you to some of his friends.

Being lonely was one of the worst feelings and Asmo never wanted you to feel that way.

Beel felt the most guilty after seeing you so upset.

He was the one you were protecting when Lucifer tried to attack you.

You had stepped in front of him and shielded him.

He had been so thankful that Diavolo managed to reach Lucifer in time and stop him from hurting you.

And he made sure to tell you as much when you were resting up in his bedroom after the attack.

Yet, when that conversation was happening in the Assembly Hall, he said and did nothing to help you.

He could see you growing more and more upset as his brothers talked, but he continued to just stand by and listen.

As soon as you left the Assembly Hall in tears though, Beel knew he had messed up.

He immediately followed after you, genuinely worried about you.

When he finally caught up to you, Beel immediately wrapped you into his arms, pulling you closely into him.

Panic was filling every inch of his body as he tried to come up with the right words.

In the end, he told you, “My brothers were just kidding.”

You let out a small chuckle, gently pulling away from Beel and wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I know that what they were saying wasn’t completely true, but Satan was right. I don’t have anyone down here that cares about me,” you replied, and Beel’s lip turned into a frown.

He looked so sad and lost at your words that you almost felt like you needed to comfort him.

“When I asked you why you protected me and Luke, you told me it was because we were your friends and we were important to you,” Beel began, and your eyes locked with his indigo ones. 

“You’re my friend too, and you’re important to me,” Beel added with a small smile that portrayed how sincere he was being you.

His expression was enough to bring a small smile to your face and you allowed yourself to open up to Beel.

You knew that the whole experience brought the two of you closer, and you knew that Beel was someone who would always be there for you and someone you could always turn to.

[nomsfaultau]

Dark SBI AU where Philza’s human children were replaced by monsters. Start of ficlet is here.

(sorry for repeating a part im new to formatting ficlets)

The Lambs Wolves Wear part 4

Once the truth came out, “Tommy” was the least likely to wear the skin of his child. The shapeshifting demon slipped in and out of forms like water, powerful and sleek. To him, Tommy was nothing more than another form to play with. Discarded like a toy the demon lost interest in, like Tommy wasn't Philza's whole world. "Tommy" only ever wanted the form to manipulate humans, to appear small and vulnerable and precious. Perhaps the shape changer knew it felt like a gut punch every time Philza remembered those soft blue eyes were only a mask for the monster hiding in what used to be his youngest son.

It helped that his true form hadn’t a chance of fitting inside the home. So Philza found himself spending more and more time trapped in doors so as to force “Tommy” to a smaller, more manageable size. At least he’d learned to be more benign near the cattle and hens, though at times he stirred them into a frenzy, sharp teeth laughing at the chaos. Yet more often than not he wore a corrupted version of the real Tommy, clinging onto Philza’s hip. “Tommy” did little to suppress his four demon horns, mangled wings at time materializing to further ensnare Philza. He was often left covered in shallow scratches and a few nip marks. Nothing dangerous, mind, simply a reminder that at any point "Tommy" could rend him limb from limb.

As often as he confined himself to the home now, it had become nigh impossible to tend the fields, though “Technoblade” had taken to it with glee. The undead legions flickered between rows of grain, having declared war on the weeds. It was harder than it used to be with fewer tasks to distract himself with. Philza found himself stripped of work, the monsters stealing it so that he was left with undivided attention for them.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. But the monsters found a use for him. A flap of tattered demon wings and a small earth quake signaled “Tommy’s” return from a long day of terrorizing mortals or whatever it is he did in his free time. The door slammed open, wind rushing in a gale as a terrible eagle ripped through the home, wings smashing things off the walls and tables. Red eyes gleamed as they found Philza sitting before the fireplace, and at once it dove towards him sharply. Midair, the demon enlarged, smoothly converting from a dive to a pounce. A chimera slammed into him full force, knocking the air from Philza’s lungs. Sharp claws pinned him in place as a lion head began to butt against him roughly, goat horns jamming into his soft underbelly.

“What have I said about shapeshifting in the house, “Tommy”?” A deep growl froze Philza in place, bared fangs inches from his face. The chimera circled a few times, then flumphed into his lap, settling in. “You can’t just-“ a wing shot out, slamming across his face in retaliation. Something hot trickled down his lip. Fire glowed in the back of “Tommy’s” mouth as Philza clutched his bleeding nose. It grew brighter and brighter, “Tommy’s” hackles bristling, but Philza stubbornly tended to his injury. At least, till the lion’s maw part in jagged fangs and the fireball in the chimera’s throat threatened to devour him in flame. Philza jolted, and quickly began to pet “Tommy” with shaking hands covered in his own blood.

Bristling fur smoothed, and “Tommy” snuggled in, tearing large rips through the couch and gurgling a thing that couldn’t quite be considered a purr. “You can’t intimidate me every time you want something,” Philza said the moment his voice worked again. Each word tasted like the blood quickly beginning to coat his front.

“Of course I can,” “Tommy” rumbled. “It’s how Hell works.” The viper’s tail wrapped around his ankle, venomous fangs poised above his arteries. “I could say ‘scratch me behind the ears or I’ll poison you’ and you’ll do it.” And so Philza did, after the hiss of a snake nearly buried itself in his flesh. “Tommy” stretched, satisfied, though the viper curled around Philza remained.

“That isn’t how love works, though. If you keep being mean, I might stop loving you.”

Hellish red eyes whipped towards him, shock rounding them. “It can be revoked?” At Philza’s nod, all four of “Tommy’s” ears flattened, a snarl building in his throats. “If you stop loving me I’ll rip you apart.”

“A-and that will just ensure you’ll never get love again.”

The growl died. Confusion twisted the monster’s features, the demon trying to find a way he could threaten Philza without ‘being mean’. Or more aptly, how to weasel out of threat he couldn’t actually fulfill without losing his perceived power. The bafflement only increased exponentially, the demon becoming distraught. “How do I get something if not by force or deception?”

“Love is reciprocal. You have to give it if you want to receive it.” The demon was distrustful of the notion, squinting at Philza as if waiting for the catch. He slowly peeled off the mortal he was crushing, till Philza was face to face with a lion head, demonic eyes piercing him for truth. “That means- that means you can’t hurt me. Or threaten to, either. You have to be nice, like I’ve been to you.”

A giant paw rose, hesitated, then raked across his chest. Philza flinched, pressing back into the couch as much as he could. “Tommy” batted at him over and over, tearing Philza’s shirt and streaking light crimson scratches across his chest. The demon ignored his yelps of pain, his strength unmatched as he pinned the panicking Philza in place. He’d pushed his luck too far, and now he was going to get gutted. He should’ve never tried to set boundaries with a demon. “Stop squirming,” the chimera growled. “You’re making it hard to pet you.”

Philza grit his teeth. Nice. Warm. Fatherly. He bit out a strained smile so he couldn’t scream. “You’re playing too rough, son. You gotta be gentle with me, remember? You’re making me bleed.”

The chimera paused in its attack, frowning. “But blood is how humans bind their vows. You promised to love me, so you must bleed to keep that oath.”

That. Yeah, in retrospect that explained a lot about how cuddling with “Tommy” usually went. Philza had always ended up bruised, nipped fingers and scratch marks. “Humans can keep promises without a blood pact. In fact, that’s how most of them are done.”

“Then how will I force you to uphold it?”

“If you are kind I shall do it of my own volition.”

“Tommy’s” hackles raised. “No you won’t. You would betray me at the first opportunity.”

“Perhaps in hell. Not here.” Philza stroked “Tommy’s” muzzle and slowly began coaxing him to be more gentle. He distrusted Philza’s words, scoffing at them, but seemed willing to try so as to not lose Philza’s affection. Eventually he persuaded the demon to don a weaker, safer form, particularly after the lion head’s nuzzling started trying to bite his arms. A fox curled in his lap, happily purring as Philza ran his fingers through too-hot fur. Occasionally "Tommy" rubbed against him to show affection. Or possibly just to make sure Philza was paying attention to solely him.

“What was Hell like?” Philza asked curiously. Fishing for information was the least dangerous with "Tommy", and given how unintentionally (?) lethal he was that was saying something. But the others were far more conniving in a way the straight-forward demon was not. And Philza needed to figure out how to get his real children back as quick as possible.

The purring stopped abruptly, hackles bristling as the beast grew. Philza braced for an attack that never came. “Tommy” simply looked away from him, resting his head on his paws. “…really, really awful. That’s why I want to stay with you forever.”

Next>

Art for this part

[fanaroff]

Dp x DC Prompt: Space Like An Ocean

An alien had taken up residence outside of the Watchtower. Its first appearance immediately started a panic with most of the heroes that could survive in space converging on the station to see whether it was friend or foe. In the end, it did not seem either.

In fact, it seemed fine with just basking and napping wrapped around parts of the Watchtower that made up the outside. It wasn’t the size of the Watchtower, but off and on it was a very near thing.

Humanoid, yet distinctly inhuman. White whispy hair sat atop its head, pointed ears, and the only feature that could be made out of its face were two bright green glowing eyes. A color that sent Batman into a research frenzy. Its skin was void-dark. Almost looking as if a piece of space itself had separated from the cosmos and took and almost snake-like form. Or maybe an eel?

The most notable thing about the creature were its injuries. Multiple lacerations covered it, leaking a green that never touched the Watchtower and seemed to evaporate not long after leaving its body. Any silent attempts to collect it for study and to figure out what it was were met with emotionless green eyes and a bare hint of fang. They backed off quickly.

Flash liked to call it a mer-eel. “Cause it’s got an almost human torso, two arms, and the rest just kind of curls up!”

Wonder Woman was unimpressed with this. “That would suggest it is more like a naga.”

To which Green Lantern replied, “No, no, he’s right. There’s an almost white fin-like bit that goes down the tail like an eel’s does.”

Any more attempts to identify the creature led to nothing and soon the “eel” became a silent fixture of the Watchtower.

It was ages later when Zatanna entered the Watchtower to discuss a completely non-connected case when she stumbled immediately upon leaving the Zeta Tube and had to lean against a wall, breathing heavily.

“Something feels like Death.” Was all she could get out before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she dropped to the ground. She wouldn’t wake up, dead asleep. Immediate worry all around lead to Justice League Dark being contacted in full.

Constantine with Deadman in tow were ultimately the ones to solve the mystery. It took but a moment for Deadman to be seen thanks to Constantine’s “magic” and awe was the first thing apparent on his face. Deadman didn’t even need to leave the Watchtower to know what it was.

“Oh,” he whispered like a prayer. “So that’s where he goes when he takes a break.”

Queue questioning.

“He” turned out to be Phantom, the Ghost King who had apparently decided the Watchtower was a perfect basking spot. Confusion was abound at this.

“No, see,” Deadman tried to explain. “He has two Obsessions and the Watchtower feeds into both. Heroes who protect, as he is a protector spirit himself and probably feels a kinship, and space.”

Constantine and Deadman explained as best as they could, but when the questions finally settled, the last was “Why isn’t Constantine affected like Zatanna? Why aren’t the rest of them affected like Zatanna?”

“That’s easy!” Deadman piped. “None of you are attuned to death magic! I’m a ghost, he’s my King. Zatanna is a magician with experience in most magics. And Constantine doesn’t own enough of his soul to feel the death!”

In the end, a request from Deadman was all it took for things to change. With barely a rumble, Phantom pulled himself from the Watchtower and drifted far enough away for his aura to no longer affect Zatanna. The heroes could only watch in awe as the eel-like god returned to the open ocean of space.

Addition:

There were a giant green eyes observing the conference room. Every hero inside was frozen in place, staring back at the eyes and trying their best not to move a muscle. Phantom had moved from atop the station. Phantom had acknowledged them. Phantom was staring at them from a window of the Watchtower.

No one knew why he was there. Just that suddenly he was. The bright green lighting the entire room with its shine was the only warning they got. They stared. He stared.

Slowly, he moved. A hand-shape pointed with a claw. They were confused. The hand made a pointing motion again.

The table?

Ah. Several shards of kryptonite sat on the table. The topic of the discussion as someone had somehow gotten ahold of the shards and used them against Superman. They needed to know who supplied them.

The hand pointed again.

Why did Phantom want the shards?

Apparently, it wasn’t up to them to question as the pointing hand phased into the room, palm up. Waiting. No one moved for a moment until a white narrowed slit formed in Phantom’s eyes.

Green Lantern was quick to grab the shards (Batman made a token protest, those were his damn it) and placed them in the palm. He shivered as his finger brushed the skin, ice cold washing up and down his spine.

The hand closed, retracted and approached the face. The eyes stared as a large mouth opened (fangs, sharp sharp fangs laid in green) and a tongue popped out. The shards were placed on the tongue and the mouth closed with a sharp crunch.

Phantom grinned almost smugly before he drifted away from the window and back to the top of the Watchtower.

“Did- Did Phantom just ask for a snack?”

[yandere-sins]

How'd you think Yandere luci and Yandere Mammon would deal with a S/O who's hiding the fact they're a virgin and is always trying to avoid intercourse by excuses like pretending to be asleep etc because they don't want to lose their virginity to them? (ALSO BTW, I LOVE YOUR WORK. like your work is super amazing and detailed <3 best yan writer)

Thank you for reading my writing!! I am so glad you enjoy it ^-^

And thank you for requesting! ♥

Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Lucifer

♡ As if he doesn't know. You might be able to fool another human, and maybe someone as dense as Mammon, but you can't fool Lucifer. He had already noticed you shying away from his touch, the goosebumps and sudden tension that would go through you every time he touched you (rather innocently even). It's like you expected something to happen and are unsure how to react. Maybe you don't want it, perhaps you do, but your signals aren't very clear, and that makes him suspect you.

♡ He��could blame it on some form of trauma that he doesn't know about, but he'd expect your reactions to be a bit more violent or fueled by rejection if that was the case. Instead, they are bashful and tense, with a taste of sweetness and innocence that Lucifer quite likes. And he caught Asmo giving you a knowing look once while you seemed even more hesitant to approach the 5th oldest brother; you made it much too easy for Lucifer to figure out what kind of game you were playing.

♡ So, he'll play along for a while since it's now in his control. You might not be a well-aged drop of lust yet, but delaying the inevitable is going to do you both well. Riling you up, getting you to let down your guard, and leaving you hot and bothered will benefit Lucifer greatly. Seeing your walls crumble will be enough to satisfy him for a while, so he won't have to put his hands on you prematurely. You may simmer on the knowledge that he'll take your virginity at some point, be sensitive, and get confused at times over his actions. Maybe even fantasize what it'll be like. Will he be rough? Gentle? Ease you into it or brutal steal your innocence like he did with your freedom? Letting your thoughts and desires run wild, no matter how much you want to deny them, will almost guarantee that once you are ready, you'll be at a point where you'll crawl to him, begging for release. And Lucifer likes that idea very much.

♡ Things he'll do to chip away at your defense include but aren't limited to spooning up against you at night, his cock perfectly pressed against your body but not grinding against you. Just letting you know it's there and ready for you and allowing you to get used to it but never letting you scoot away. The same is true with his hand placement at night, his palm at your lower abdomen, just resting there, and his fingertips slipping beneath your clothes to leave feathery trails of allurement. So close yet far enough away, teasing, playful, promising. The warmth it emits seeping into your body, heating you up, only for him to retract and leaving you hanging. Sometimes, his fingers will play with your clothes, letting you know just how agile they are. Your mind will do the rest as you can imagine the chaos and pleasure they can leave in their wake. He wears human pheromones suited to your taste, and he'll flirt with you, complimenting you even when you feel vulnerable, letting you know how receptive he is to taking the next step. It's only a matter of time until you cave, but Lucifer will do everything to make it the hardest few days of your life.

Mammon

♡ Mammon is indeed a little dense. He might feel a bit off-put if you reject his advances repeatedly, but he doesn't see anything wrong with it the first few times. There is absolutely no subtlety in his advances, his kisses bordering on orgasm-territory already when he's in the mood, his hands greedy as is fitting for his title. You might be forced into these affections, but even you can't help but squirm beneath him. It only gives him more incentive to take it up a notch when he's just so passionate, your lips constantly bruised, and your neck marked by his teeth.

♡ So it becomes very frustrating and confusing for him when you kick and scream the moment he gets a bit more intimate. He'd like to respect your choice despite him not giving you one when it comes to whether or not you'll be with him for the rest of your life. Mammon likes to think he's gracious like that. But he thought you two were on the right path to taking the next step, yet you keep rejecting him. To be fair, he's been very clear that he wants you for a long time: Grinding against you, fondling your body even though he should be concentrating on other things. You've caught him jerking off next to you, moaning your name quite a few times even though you pretended to be asleep. And if that isn't clear enough, he's been nagging and sometimes even begging on his knees for you to give him some of that sweet body of yours to fuck. You've rejected him all the same, so for Mammon, it hints at something being seriously wrong, but he can't quite figure it out himself.

♡ It takes some... advice from more experienced individuals for him to come to a conclusion. Levi thinks perhaps he smells bad, Satan questions why anyone would want to be with Mammon in the first place, and Beel asks if maybe you're too hungry for any of that stuff and if Mammon fed you properly. But hey, at least Asmo is useful, hinting at the possibility of you feeling... insecure. Maybe you're too "inexperienced" (Mammon vehemently denies the possibility of you being a virgin, cause duh, look at you! Stunning, gorgeous, and he will totally kill anyone who touched you before him, but clearly, with how seductive and sexy you are, he can't possibily your first). So Mammon deducts Asmo is right; you're just nervous because you'll be with a great guy like Mammon!

♡ Worry not; he decides to show you the ropes! ... Literally. You might stutter and reject his ideas of getting close and personal, but Asmodeus had a handy bag of goodies for Mammon before he left. Even though Mammon is at his limit, he tries to keep it together for you, tying you up and making you watch him jerk off, reciting all the things he wants to do to you, how he'll do it, and showing you how insane you are driving him. There won't be any more nights to hide away after that, as Mammon will demonstrate to you exactly how worthy you are to lay with him. But at least he'll ease you into it, that's something, right? You'll get the full 7 hells of orgasms from his mouth to fingers to toys. Forcing you to rely on him as he takes away your senses, like sight, and the freedom to move as you please. By the time he finally gets to wet his cock on you, you'll be already too well-fucked to care, and if that isn't devotion, what is?

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 4 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: you and stanley unknowingly go on a date 

warnings (TW): swearing, illusions of past abuse, alcohol consumption

tags: fluff, early relationship described, pining, slight angst, affection

notes: thank you all for the engagement! hope you enjoy <3

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked an up to date masterlist of all the parts of this continuing series- hope you enjoy <3

word count: 3.9k

| masterlist | part v |

He had somehow managed to drag her out of the basement that day. 

Of course, he had been down there assisting her in any way he could. A high school dropout only knows so much about mechanical engineering and quantum physics. Still, she seemed happy enough to dance around the chalkboard she (he) had dragged downstairs, bouncing off ideas with him contently listening, trying to piece back together complex wiring to get the ominous inverted triangle on the basement wall to whirl back to life. 

She was even more spurred on when he actually engaged, not that he raised his hand like he was back in class (not that he ever remembered doing so when he was in class). She simply seemed grateful that he was attempting to learn anything to help her. To learn how to move this whole fucking thing along. 

She dragged him to the basement quite often now that the shack was half shut down for the winter. He had managed to see a few rounds of locals and tourists through the Murder Hut from early October until Thanksgiving when snow began to fall. Then tourists dried up, and only the locals frequented now, so Stan reduced his hours and gave some more of his time to helping her downstairs during the day. 

Every night was spent downstairs in the basement though, there hadn’t come a day since she stepped through that front door that they both didn’t wander down to the portal. Of course, this was usually then followed by convening upstairs in front of the T.V., Stanford’s journal passed between the two of them.

She had grown more frustrated as of late, raving about alien material and compatibility with human electronics. He did his best to understand, and he followed along very aptly. Always wanting to be an attentive sounding board, and even bouncing his own, albeit stupid, ideas. 

Not that she ever made any indication of them being stupid, and not that she would ever stop him from voicing them. 

Educationally, he felt it was the closest he’d ever gotten to an actual education. Said education being advanced quantum mechanics, but everyone had to start somewhere. 

But now they were out for dinner because, after yesterday’s long night of pacing and chalkboard rants, he thought they deserved to go out on the meager earnings of yesterday’s Murder Hut tour.

That and it had been exactly a year since he first laid eyes on her. Not that he was gonna tell her that. 

He could acknowledge that she may have noticed the amount of time that had past, hence her growing irritation with the lack of progress in getting Stanford back, and her growing hours spent in the dark of the basement. But she more than likely didn’t know of the significance of the exact date, or care, which he figured may be more likely. Especially with the anniversary of Ford’s disappearance having come and gone.

December had been hard for the both of them really, and some things had settled somewhat awkwardly between them from the previous week. 

They both handled the anniversary slightly differently, her with general avoidance, head somehow buried deeper in that god-forsaken journal. He found some semblance of self-soothing in diving head first into holding a conversation with any customer that walked through the front door of the Murder Hut that day. 

Sitting across from each other at the dinner table was hard that night, and for the first time ever, she poured copious amounts of wine into their mugs on a weeknight. The kitchen had been eerily quiet that night, the silence only broken by scrapes of plates and mumbled conversation.

He remembers being disgusted with his hands that evening. Remembers thinking about how he had shoved his brother away that day, how Ford had stumbled from one end of the room into the other just to disappear before his eyes. How his hands had reached for Stanford, calling for him. How the journal made its way back to his hands, but his brother hadn’t. His hand had been constantly grazing his shoulder that day, running along the raised scar, a sickening feeling sinking further into him throughout the day.

They had both shuffled around each other that night, and she had not said so much as good morning and goodnight in her mounting grief, it felt like. She had felt bad about how she handled that day but had felt even worse about failing Stan and Ford. She knew of the hope in Stan’s eyes that day when she had trampled in through the door of the shack, knew the relief he felt in her knowledge and presence. But a year had passed, and she could feel nothing but shame when she looked at him. She saw both twins that night while looking over at his hunched figure across the dinner table. She had said goodnight to Stan and Ford that night and had wandered upstairs wondering if she could wash the image from her eyes in the bathroom sink.

They had both returned to normal by Thursday but had grown more determined than ever before. So yeah, Stan figured a night out may be deserved. 

She seemed happier now, sitting crisscross from him in the Greasy’s diner booth, elbows on the table as she reached over to draw along the corners of his paper placemat with the crayons she had swiped from some kid on the way in. 

Something that made him chuckle for a little too long. He must be a bad influence. He had sticky fingers and she knew it. It now seemed to be a competition between the two of them, who could steal the most random of objects. 

Her hand was out, shielding the drawing on his placemat as she switched between the meager 4 colors the shitty diner crayon pack supplied. He nudged her hand aside as she giggled. 

“No! My masterpiece! Give me a second you grump.” 

“It better be good, Picasso, you’re hoggin all the crayons.” 

She handed over the red one, and he elected to reach across to her own paper placemat, beginning to draw his usual comic-book-style figures. One of the figures, oddly enough, began to look like her. 

Her face was so close to her drawing she might as well have been kissing the table, when she shot up, smiling at Stan and looking for approval. 

“Ta-Da!” She moved her hand, showing a mish-mash of red, blue, green, and purple. 

He stared contemplatively, sitting back in his seat humming. In truth, he had no idea what he was looking at, but he would entertain giving an “expert” review. 

“Hmmmmm, now the color selection may be controversial to some but I think the blue and the purple over here are just lovely. Truly an emotional piece mhm.” He nodded his head, pointing at the corner of colors. 

“You have no idea what it is, do ya?”

“Not a clue Doc.” 

She laughed, pointing to the blue and purple figures. “Okay so these are two llamas and they are totally in love. You can tell by the cool rainbow and shooting star I put by them.” She pointed at what he figured was the “rainbow and shooting star” between said “llamas”. 

“And they are here in Gravity Falls because I drew a bunch of pine trees behind them!” She pointed to what he supposed was the foreground and the mess of green sprigs she had tried to draw. 

He hummed again. “Very moving, very touching Doc.” He moved to wipe a fake tear, sniffling along with his act. 

“I ain't much of an artist, am I Stan?” She laughed, finding humor in her lack of skill. 

He gasped, fake clutching his pearls, an even faker mean expression on his face. “Don’t say that Doc! This is a masterpiece!” 

She smirked. “Okay, then that will be 50 bucks for said masterpiece, pay up!” Hand held out to him she made to grab his placemat. 

“Pretty steep price there kid, don’t get ahead of yourself now.” He conceded. 

She smiled again. “I knew you thought it was shit.” Shaking her head at him she moved to look at his own drawing. “Now what's this?” 

He smacked his hand palm side down on the corner image, a blush on his face. “Nothin’!” 

She nudged his hand now, trying to lift his hand finger by finger. “No! I had to show you mine now fess up! What ya drawing?” 

His hand clenched the corner of the paper placemat, ripping the picture of her from the corner of it and crumpling it up into his hand. 

“Nope!” 

“Yup!” She had risen up with her hands on the table, reaching for the corner paper now clutched above him in his fist. “Lemme see! Don’t do this Stan!” She giggled the entire time.

He panicked at her determination, fisting the paper into his mouth. 

“Gross Stan!” She laughed. “What the fuck!” 

He swallowed the paper, not thinking much of it. Saving himself the embarrassment of having to explain himself. He smiled across from her though, as she cracked up at his over exaggeration. 

She looked just right, under the shitty diner lights. Car headlights flashing as they went by from time to time, he began to wonder how long she would stay. If she would linger around, once Ford had returned. Wondered what it was that note said, that she brought in with her that very first day she burst through their front door. She had put it away after that day, and he never really did get to see his brother’s usual cursive gracing the paper. What was it he had said, to get her of all people out here?

She was too good to linger, he figured, and Gravity Falls felt far too small for someone like her anyway. Even if the unknown waited past their doorstep, they both hadn’t made the move to wander into the woods in search of the creatures Ford had spoken about. Something they had both voiced before over dinner, their shared hesitation to walk too far from their doorstep. If it was just himself he reasoned he would have wandered into the woods looking for signs his brother had been there, he wasn’t fearful of the unknown, he had done plenty of other things that were far scarier than what waited in their backyard. But she was here, and he felt some semblance of duty to watch her back in particular. So they had made a pact to not wander off too far from the other, and they had stuck to that deal even when coming into town. 

The townsfolk hadn’t seen Stan without her by his side since he trampled into the gas station in search of food that very first week. Surprisingly, not too many townsfolk approached her at all when they were out. If it was because he tended to glare at unknown men, she didn’t comment.  

“Order up!” 

Susan made her way back over to their booth, her hands full with two separate plates of short-stacks. 

“For you Mr. Pines.” Settling one plate in front of Stan, Susan moved to place the other in front of her. “And the other for you Mrs. Pines!” 

Brain short-circuiting, he freezes in his motion to grab his fork for his meal. His mouth began to move to correct Susan. 

“Thanks!” She said across from him, a panicked look in her eyes. Face creeping up into a flush as she thanked the waitress. 

Susan made her way away from the table after exchanging common pleasantries, all the while he sat in suspense. 

Only after he could swear Susan was out of earshot did he lean into the table, chest close to his plate to whisper across at her. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

She looked beyond guilty, ringing her table napkin in her hands as her eyes flickered to every corner of the diner that didn’t contain him. 

“I-I may have… accidentally… at some point, perhaps…” She sighs, knowing the drive home will be silent, absent of the usual radio. At least it would be if they couldn’t make it through the mistake she had made all those months ago. “Accidentally, sorta, maybe, kinda, let Susan think that we were married?” Her voice rising in octave, her hands running along the rim of the diner table now. 

He sits back, disbelief struck him. How the fuck had she managed that? 

She answers his question unknowingly. “Okay, so for your birthday in June, remember how I begged you to come to town?” A nod. “Well, you know how I snuck off to Greasy's to get you some birthday pie?” Another nod, remembering how she had been so happy to have correctly guessed his favorite kind that night. He hadn’t even chastised her about the money she had spent on him. 

She continues, hands now flying around, trying to flick the memory away. “Okay well, when I got the pie from Susan she had called my order and she called me Mrs. Pines. And I just…. froze up… and I didn’t know how to explain- well everything.” Her voice picks up speed. “I’m not good at lying, like I can do it, but she just caught me off guard. And we hadn’t discussed what we were gonna tell people- like what we were gonna tell people about us living together? And I thought of Ford and all that bullshit-“ she slumps further into the booth seat. 

“And well, ya I just…I just didn’t correct her.” 

Staring at him, expectantly now. Perhaps waiting for him to explode on her. But all he can manage to do is unravel his fork from his napkin and dig into his pancakes to finally take a bite. Chewing around it, he finally can ask something. He’s less likely to yell with his mouth full. 

But the question dies on his lips. He feels more confused by the second, and then more frustrated also. The silence she figured would follow in the car seems to have raced ahead and sits between them at the table now. Her appetite diminishes by the second, and she no longer waits for some sign from Stan, some indication of acceptance. She didn’t figure there would be, she knew she had fucked up. Or at least, fucked up by not telling him about all this sooner, but she had more or less forgotten in between work and well… enjoying living alongside him. But perhaps the arrangement she had unknowingly shoved him into wasn’t something he was comfortable with, which was understandable. She hadn’t ever really believed herself marriage material, and more or less figured she was even less so in Stan’s eyes. 

He knew she wasn’t the best liar, their old conversation concerning his name had rushed back to him. He hadn’t wanted there to be any lies between them, because he knew it would be difficult for her to upkeep them on top of everything else. That and he believed that their arrangement and reliance on one another wouldn’t work in the slightest if they were just spilling bold-faced lies back and forth to each other. But this arrangement she had stumbled headfirst into came as a surprise. Perhaps they should have rehearsed something to say to everyone who asked about them, but then again Susan didn’t really ask, she had just assumed that they were together, were married. He understood her stumbling into something like that, but he was struggling to find a way back out of it. Because he couldn’t allow her to live attached to him like this, didn’t want her to have to lie for their own comfort. 

A lingering worry in the back of his mind, concerning his past. What if it all came rushing back? What if someone was out there looking for him? What if they hurt her?

He was far past frustrated, not at her though. At all the scrapping and clawing he had to do just to get here, to wind back up in the comfort of lies to survive. But he didn’t want her scraping by with him through this, he wanted her to live. At least before today, he believed she could leave him behind if it all fell apart under him. Always an escape plan somewhere in the back of his head, a way out, a door to reach in the dead of night. But she had shut it, and he didn’t know how he was gonna get her out of it now. 

They finished dinner in silence, something that also rubbed him the wrong way. He was frustrated, and taking it out on her. She folded into an odd shape across from him, now looking dim in the diner light. It only served to frustrate him more. 

Susan didn’t comment or come by to further disturb them through dinner, which was odd for the waitress. She liked to talk, and Stan knew that the south half of town would know about their silent dinner by Friday night. 

Bill paid, they made their way back to Stan’s car. His coat caught up in her arms, he opened her door and shut it again after she entered the car without so much as a prompt. 

He didn’t voice a single word until he made it to his seat, he had been too wound up concerning what she had said. That and he hadn’t wanted anyone else to hear their conversation. To know about the lie she had sown, tying them unknowingly together. 

“So you’re tellin’ me that this town has thought that we’ve been a couple, no married, for about six months?” His hands tight against the steering wheel. 

“Well no, because it was just Susan. Like, maybe just a few people know?” She reasoned.

He shakes his head, chuckling. That’s not how small towns like Gravity Falls worked. “Nah, she told everyone. People in this town are nosey Doc. Everyone’s gotta know by now.” 

He adjusts himself in his seat again, reaching his hand out to the back of her seat, like he always does. She’s swallowed by his red coat, her hand meticulously passing the patch he had put across his right shoulder. Humming to fill the silence. He sighs. 

“This is gonna be hard, Doc. I get why ya shrugged off the assumption Susan made, really I do, but that doesn’t change the fact ya didn’t tell me.” His hand rubs his eyes, frustration seeping off of him. How the fuck was he gonna pull this off?

“What do you mean?” She interrupts. “It won’t be that hard Stan, we can manage this, it won’t be too hard.” She shakes her head, trying to smooth over his frustration.

“How am I supposed to convince this whole fucking town you married some sorry-sap like me doll?” He points between them, an intensity to his eyes. “Now this will be the hardest con. Because why the fuck would you have married me, huh?” He shrugs, throwing his hands up. 

Looking over his scarred shoulder, feeling regret seep through his bones when he sees her now. Sitting there, his winter coat hung off her shoulders, a look of disbelief on her face. An apology on her tongue, he could almost hear it now. 

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “What’d I tell ya Doc, don’t apologize to me.” He turns back to face her now, still shaking his head. 

“No.” Anger blooming on her face. “No, why the fuck would you say that Stan. Why the fuck would you even think that.” 

She was fuming, a look crossing her face he had never seen before. He had never seen her this thrown before, and he hadn’t the smallest inkling as to why her anger grew tenfold in the face of his statement. 

“Because I ain’t no good and you damn well know it!” Voice raising, hackles rising. 

“No!” She shakes her head, fingers fisted into his coat sleeves. “You are good, Stan! I don’t wanna hear that utter bullshit from you, don’t say that to me. I don’t believe it, not for a second.” Shaking her head, refusing to leave his gaze. "You're kind to me, you're considerate to me. You're good to me." She reasoned. But he was only ever really good to her if anything. Only kind in the face of her everything.

He thinks of his parents then, their image mirroring their own, but only for a moment. Arguments in front seats of cars and in front of televisions. How they would bend and snap back to each other, how he figured his father would snap and his mother would lie, to soothe him. She would lie, to see the end of the argument, to soothe frustration and heal hurt. But he figured it had more to do with his father's temper more than anything, more to do with raised voices and raised fists. But she was a terrible liar, his Doc, and he would swear to be less of a terrible grump.

He slumps in his seat, turning glassy eyes ahead of him. 

“I just didn’t want you to have to lie for me, hun.” He hadn’t called her that in weeks, a flickering memory of that dream always made him flush at the enderment. But he enjoyed how she melted when he did call her that, so he’d concede his embarrassment for her. 

“Stan, we can do this.” She slides closer, into the middle spot of the long bench, reaching her hand to his chin and pulling him into an earnest gaze. “Stan we can do anything, we will do anything, to get your brother home. And if it means lying like this then I'm prepared to do it.” She chuckles, humourlessly. “Especially because I’m the one who got us into this mess.” 

She’s beautiful, he thinks, this close. Diner light seeping in through the dashboard window, her eyes looking deeper than he'd ever been allowed to notice. She's even more beautiful, as she giggles across from him, slipping a stolen diner spoon into his hand. Slipping her fingers around the stolen object and his fingers. He chuckles finally, he's a terrible influence. His heart settled into that familiar aching sickness, something he doesn't dismiss as much now. Now that it felt as familiar as her. There was a certain comfort he fell into when it came to the feeling and her now, one that made his heart race.

It wasn’t a mess though, what she had done, but it did solidify what he had to do next. 

He had been thinking about it for a while, thinking about what sitting in one spot would bring to his, their, doorstep. Thought of the crimes he had left behind, skipping from state to state. It's what had kept him up late at night during those early summer months. What had made him linger around the door late some of those nights also, what if it all caught up to him? Would she be safe? 

No, he figured now. Now that she had intrinsically tied herself to him, she was safest next to him. That she hadn't shut any door, that there was a way out, but only for the old him. So she wouldn’t be leaving, but that old part of him would have to. Protect her, them.

He sighs, ready for the conversation they would have to have. He would have to be more honest about himself, he warmed, kinda like her. But really only with her. 

“There's something I gotta do then, hun.” He shuffles, leaning into her warm palm along his cheek. “I gotta die.”

She pales next to him. 

[ldrfanatic]

promise.

theodore nott x fem!reader

synopsis - as you quite literally stumble upon the enigmatic persona of theodore nott, you unintentionally become entangled in the intrigue surrounding him

warnings - mentions of death, domestic violence, cursing, and alcohol consumption

considering a part two to this... I have a few cute ideas in mind.

the next part of thirteen is coming soon I'm like halfway through but in the meantime, here's this.

works slytherin boys

Theodore Nott absolutely hated human interaction. He didn't want to be looked at or spoken too. And he most certainly did not want to be touched. In stark contrast to his best friend Mattheo's loud and boisterous personality, Theodore Nott was quiet. Reserved. He rarely ever spoke to anyone outside of his friend group, and even then he'd been known to simply pretend the rest of the world didn't exist on a whim. Yes, Theodore Nott hated people.

Theo was yanked from his thoughts as a figure slammed into him.

"I'm so sorry!" You exclaimed. The books and parchment in your arms had gone flying as you collided with someone else in the halls. When you were met with silence, you looked up and suddenly, Theo lost his train of thought. You'd ran into Theodore. The slytherin boy looked at you with a rather intense stare, but he didn't say anything.

He just stared.

Awkwardly.

Theodore stared at you as you rambled out apologies and phrase after phrase of complete nonsense. It was actually kind of cute. And it was the first time that someone had taken the time to talk to him properly since he'd been at hogwarts. Even teachers had given up on trying to engage him in conversation.

"There's a party tonight at Slytherin house. Be there." You stood gaping at Theo with your mouth slightly open. He figured you were fairly shocked at having heard him speak considering how scarcely he allowed words to fall from his lips.

Internally, Theodore grimaced at his own words. Years and years of barely speaking to anyone had obviously done nothing for his social skills. He racked his brain as he tried to recall his time in primary school so as to remember how to properly communicate.

"I mean, you can come. I-If you'd like that is." Once again Theo cringed as he tripped over his own tongue. It felt unnatural to stutter. He'd never stammered over his words like that. But there was something about that unhinged his soul. He hadn't quite figured out if he enjoyed it or not but this party was the perfect excuse to get closer to you while he studied the affects you have on him.

"I'll be there." You offered him a smile that made his heartbreat thrum in his ears.

“Promise?”

The word tumbled out of him before he could stop himself. He watched as your brows furrowed curiously. After all, it was quite an odd thing to make someone promise. But you didn’t question it.

“I promise.”

Your words meant everything to him. Theo closed his eyes in a manic attempt to calm his thoughts, and when he opened them, you were gone. Odd. Perhaps he'd imagined the whole thing.

Or perhaps not.

In fact, as he looked at over by the snack table casually conversing with Pansy Parkinson, Theo was certain he hadn't imagined the interaction. Even more so when you turned and smiled at him apparently feeling his gaze on you.

He watched as Pansy muttered something to you that had you looking curiously over at him. You pointed at him and cocked your head slightly sideways (an adorable action that made Theo's heart beat too fast). Just as quickly as you'd done it, you shrugged at Pansy and took a sip of the juice in your hand.

For the second time that day, Theodore was jarred from his thoughts.

Mattheo's hand knocked onto Theo's shoulder.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

When Theo turned to look at the boy, he wasn't surprised to see that he was intoxicated. Mattheo often found solace in drugs and alcohol, something Theo didn't quite understand. No. He preferred to be calm and in control.

Mattheo carried on, not expecting Theo to respond.

"So who's the girl?"

Theo flashed Mattheo a feigned confused look that he knew Mattheo saw right through.

"Oh don't give me that bullshit. You know the girl that you're staring holes into?"

When his friend continued to ignore him, Mattheo pulled back so he was standing up mostly straight and set his beer down on the table in front of the couch with a rather loud thunk.

"Fine. If you have no interest in her then surely you won't mind if I make her my next conquest. She is quite pretty."

Mattheo didn't make it two steps before Theodore was harshly shoving him aside until his bum found the couch. "Stay away."

The dark haired boy smirked up at him. It was pretty clear that Theo had some sort of feelings for you well beyond what he normally thought of pretty much anyone else.

In their own little world, the two hadn't noticed you and Pansy approaching them. Pansy looked on with a knowing look as you flocked to Theo worriedly.

"Are you alright Theodore?"

When Theo turned to look at you, he felt his rage dissipate. He also fell silent again. For the first time in his life, Theo was unable to speak not because he didn't want to, but because he just didn't know what to say. He fished for sentences in his brain or words of any kind really and yet he came up empty.

Afraid that he'd make a fool of himself again, Theo turned swiftly on his heel and removed himself from the situation.

As you watched Theo leave, you found yourself wildly confused. What the fuck just happened? Sure, Theo was known for just getting up and leaving conversations. But he'd stood there looking at you and even opened his mouth like he was going to say something. Then he just left.

"No hard feelings, Y/n. Theo doesn't like people."

You tried to force yourself to believe Pansy's words. Theo was fine, he just didn't like people. Everyone knew that. But the look that Mattheo exchanged with Theo before he left itched at you in a way that made you feel as though there was something deeper going on there that you weren't privy to.

It turns out, Theo's behavior bothered you enough for you to break one of your cardinal rules: never involve yourself with Mattheo Riddle & Co. You'd had this ingrained in your mind since you started hogwarts. There were only ever two exceptions. One, for Pansy Parkinson who it turned out really spent more time with the Greengrass sisters than Mattheo and his posse. And two, for Theodore Nott whom you'd had a schoolgirl crush on since third year. He was simply too handsome to ignore. And though you'd never really had more than exactly one ten second conversation with him right after you'd damn near toppled him over, you felt concern for him after the incident in the Slytherin party the other night.

Hence why you were standing in front of a grinning Mattheo Riddle at breakfast one morning.

"Where's Theodore?"

Mattheo sucked a breath in through his teeth and looked at you with mischievous eyes.

"Sorry darling. Can't betray one of my best mates, can I?"

"I'm worried about him."

"Then go find him."

You rolled your eyes. You should've known conversing with the likes of Riddle was going to be a waste of your time.

"If I knew where to find him, do you really think I'd be slumming it with you right now? I just want to check on him."

Mattheo looked up at you from his seat with false offense.

"Slumming it? I will have you know that my company is desired by many. And if you're really that desperate to find him, what do you say you and I go get ourselves a broom closet? I'm sure he'd be more than willing to crash our party."

Your eyebrows furrowed as the hidden meaning of Mattheo's words flew clear over your head.

"As if. Enough of your games, Riddle. Draco!"

The platinum haired boy jumped when you barked out his name. He squeaked out a 'yes' in return. You really could be quite intimidating when you wanted to be.

"Where the hell is Theodore?"

"Last I saw him he was out in the gardens."

You swung your bag over your shoulder, watching on in amusement while Mattheo delivered a rapid thump to the back of Draco's head. The boys began to squabble, but you didn't stay to watch, instead taking off towards the gardens.

When you got there, Theo was pacing back in forth in front of the Gardenias. The sound of your approaching footsteps startled him and he whipped around to see who'd followed him out here. As his eyes fell on your figure, he noticeably relaxed.

"Theodore, are you alright?" You repeated your words from last night. Theo's chest heaved as he took a rather deep breath.

"Gardenias were her favorite flower."

You stared on in confusion before it hit you. "Your mother."

You remembered hearing your parents talk about the death of Isabella Nott when you were around 8 or 9 years old. Cantankerous Nott was a prominent figure in the Ministry of Magic, so the death of his wife spread like wildfire amongst the wizarding world.

"When I want to talk to her, I come out here. Being near Gardenias makes me feel... closer to her. I know it's silly."

"It's not silly Theo." This was the most that anyone had ever heard Theo speak. There was no way you were going to let him recluse out of unnecessary embarrassment.

"When I was a boy, my father used to hit my mother. I- I couldn't understand why. She was kind, loving, beautiful. Everything a foul man like him could've hoped for. It frustrated me that I couldn't do anything to help her."

He took a deep breath and tears welled up in his eyes. His gaze had found it's way back to the Gardenias and he focused on them as he continued.

"Then one day, I came home from primary school and they were fighting. My father was the angriest I'd ever seen him. My mother told me to go upstairs to my room. But I didn’t want to leave her so I hid behind the stairs, peeking through the bars. I was worried for her. Then as I watched, my father beat my mother to death. It's why I can see the Thestrals. It's... also why I don't speak. I prefer to be in my mind, where I can be with my memories of her."

Though you couldn't exactly relate to Theodore, your heart ached for him. To have watched his mother die at such a young age, and at the hands of his own father in such a brutal way. It's understandable the impact that it had on him.

“That’s understandable.”

Theo turned to face you, face flushed and chest heaving as though he’d just run a mile.

“It’s more than that though. If you stay away from people, you can’t get attached. If you don’t get attached…”

He trailed off but you could piece together what he was getting at fairly easily.

“You don’t have to worry about getting hurt.”

Theo nodded, chestnut curls blowing gently as a breeze passed through. Your hand made itself busy toying with the leaves of a nearby bush. The deep tones of Theo’s voice echoed as he spoke again.

“It’s different with you. I tried like hell not to get attached. But I can’t help it but want to be close to you. Because you’re so kind. Because you don’t push me to speak, instead you fill the silence with your own beautiful voice. Because for the first time since her death, being present, with you, brings me more happiness than being in my memories with her.”

Theo motioned frantically with his hands as he spoke. It was odd to see a boy usually so stoic be overcome with emotions in this way. When he turned to face the Gardenia bushes again, you came to stand beside him. With gentle hands, you ran your fingers over the white petals of the Gardenias.

“You know I remember reading something once in a muggle book about flowers. Muggles are so silly, aren’t they?”

When Theo turned to you with a questioning look, you took that as your cue to continue.

“They see things they don’t understand. They label them as ‘miracles’ and then come up with these ridiculous folktales and stories just so they don’t have to face the discomfort of not knowing. It must be maddening to them, not knowing.

“Not knowing about where they came from. Or what comes after when they… pass. So instead they label everything, instead of marveling in the beauty and the realness of simply not knowing.”

The boy at your side had completely torn his attention from the ivory flowers and fixed his gaze on you. His eyes seemed to hold and unspoken question, are you going anywhere with this?

“They have a belief about Gardenias. Ancient tales speak of gods and goddesses who transformed Gardenias into sacred tokens, giving them magical properties, which I found to be most intriguing considering that nowadays the majority of muggles don’t believe in magic at all.

“One thing I did find particularly interesting. The muggles believe that Gardenias signify an untold love. They are also given to convey “you're lovely”. Because of this, the gardenia is a flower that they give to lovers, friends, and even family. It's a way of telling them how lovely they are.”

You grasped his hand in his.

“Theo I think remembering your mother through Gardenias is a lovely way to do so. I think she would’ve liked that. And I believe that whatever happens to us when we die, your mother uses all of her strength to tell you through every Gardenia on Earth how much she loves you.”

With your kind words, the dam that seemed to be holding in Theo’s emotions for the last 7 years, shattered. Hits tears streamed down his face and he all but launched himself into your arms. He cried, sobbed actually, and clutched your figure closely to his.

When he finally calmed, his rough hand made its way back into yours. He sniffled softly for a few minutes and the pair of you watched the Gardenias together for a little while.

Finally, after he’d regained control, Theo plucked a Gardenia from the bushes and brought out his wand. He muttered a few spells softly which you recognized as preservation spells. Then, to your surprise, he held the flower out to you with two simple words.

“You’re lovely.”

“Promise?”

You teased him lightly, returning the words he’d spoken to you yesterday afternoon.

Theo fought his own grin at the way your lips turned up. He did have a reputation to uphold and he couldn’t very well do that if he was caught grinning at you.

“Promise.”

Oh to hell with Theodore Nott’s bloody reputation. In the week following your stolen moments in the garden, you and Theodore Nott began courting. When the rest of Hogwarts got wind after a Hufflepuff saw him kiss you outside of the Herbology greenhouse, the student body descended into chaos.

Still, the chatters died down within the day following. In fact, most of your fellow students seemed to think that the whisperings surrounding a relationship between yourself and Theo were simply rumors.

‘She spends a lot of time with the Slytherins.’ One student whispered in the back of Potions.

‘So? She’s friends with Pansy Parkinson, isn’t that her lot as well.’ Another student whispered back.

And since neither you nor Theodore were particularly large gossips, not one of the pair of you said anything to confirm or deny the rumors. Which only fueled more into the leading theory, that the Hufflepuff who saw you kiss was simply imagining it.

Of course, you, Theodore, and the rest of Mattheo & Co. knew differently but that didn’t really bother either of you.

So Theodore continued his life in peace. Knowing that he had the most beautiful girl in the castle in his arms every night, and his reputation for being the most emotionless son a bitch in Hogwarts was still in tact. Theodore Nott had found happiness for once.

Or he was happy.

That is until he saw that bloody Ravenclaw Anthony Goldstein chatting you up by the juice at the evening’s Slytherin House Party.

All week Theo had successfully maintained his carefree and cold hearted front. Yet watching the stupid blonde chat you up while you constantly waved him away made his blood boil. It was more than simple jealousy. It was disrespectful enough to dally around with another man’s girl. But to continue to harass the poor girl when she’d clearly asked you to leave was just in poor character. And for Goldstein to think he could get away with pursuing Theodore’s girl at all was ridiculous and frankly insulting.

So, employing a trick as old as time itself, Theodore stood from his seat next to Draco and just walked away. Whatever the platinum blonde was saying to him was cut off. He looked around at the others around him, motioning to Theo’s retreating figure.

“What are gonna do with him?”

But Theo ignored him. If he didn’t want to entertain Draco’s nonsense any longer, it was his given right to walk away. He had legs, after all.

Legs which were currently making short time towards where his beautiful girlfriend stood in a black cocktail dress. As soon as he was in arms reach, Theo pulled her soft figure into his own, closer and closer until he could smell the perfume on her. It was like having his own little Amortentia when he was around you. As usual, the feeling of your soft skin against his was calming.

It should have been calming.

It would have been calming.

If that idiot blonde hadn’t rudely interrupted Theodore’s plan to remove his personal heaven from the situation by walking the pair of you away from fucking Anthony Goldstein.

“Wait! I was trying to give her an invitation for the party Ravenclaw is having next week.”

Theo stopped and turned, desperately trying to reel in his anger for your sake.

“Sorry she has awful memory.”

The edges of Theo’s mouth ticked up slightly as a giggle broke from your lips behind him. He fought the urge to smile at the sound of your laughter.

“That’s alright I can just tell you, mate.”

This kid was either absolutely stupid or had a death wish. Clearly, you weren’t interested. Clearly, you were already well taken care of.

“No need, mate.” Theo spit out the word in a tone drastically unlike the cheerful one that Goldstein had used. They most certainly were not mates.

“Oh come on, Nott. It can’t hurt.”

Finally Theo’s resolve snapped. He released your hand from his own, faintly aware of your hand grasping the back of his shirt as he stepped closer to the boy in front of him.

“Might hurt.” The words concealed a thinly veiled threat. One that Anthony Goldstein apparently picked up on.

His face blanched and his features twisted. He returned the Slytherins glare with a less effective one of his own.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

A beat of tense silence passed between the pair, interrupted by you.

“Oh—kay. Let’s all calm down. We’re all… acquaintances?”

Even calling the two boys acquaintances was a major stretch. But before Theo could satisfy the growing need to slam his fist into Anthony’s face repeatedly, the Ravenclaw scoffed out a ‘whatever’ and stalked away.

“Theo…”

Your soft lips dragged out the syllables of Theo’s name but he was still feeling the after effects of his jealousy. He couldn’t believe that stupid fucker had the nerve to challenge him for a girl that was already his. No more of that.

Theo gently took your small wrist in his hand. He led you to the top of the stone stairs that let to the Slytherin Dorms. As you passed, heads turned. And by the time you made it to the top of the grand staircase, every pair of eyes in the party had focused on the two of you.

And in front of all of them, Theo kissed you. Fiercely.

The party was silenced in shock. Even the music had stopped. A few students whispered between themselves. Theo’s friends were exchanging grins and knowing looks.

Theo finally felt at peace as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“You’re my girlfriend.”

“Promise.”

---

wc 3.4k

04.21.24

theodore taglist

@moonlightreader649 @svt-dk97 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess

[yearningaces]

Thinking and thoughts here

Could you just imagine the impossible with me? Being in a loving marriage with your beloved husband -who you believe is human because why wouldn't you? He looks and acts like every other human and monsters aren't real. And he just adored you so very much, he communicates when he doesn't understand something or when a miscommunication is had. He never fights with you but you both work together to fix any problems, and focus on showing how much you care for each other. Truthfully he's the model husband. Almost to a scripted degree, but you've never felt so adored. Especially when he mirrors your affection and never seems to expect anything explicit, nor want it either. It feels safe, and comfortable... So why do you feel the sense of dread in your gut as you're looking at him right now?

Well, it might be how he's standing in the doorway, bag of takeout in hand, smile on his face. Mirroring how he always stands. But it's a brief moment, a flash of dark lines almost like thread wrapping around his joints, moving him like a giant flesh puppet.

And just as quickly as they were seen- they're gone again. Just your loving husband, Dorrin. Standing tall and gazing down, as though the mountain was watching the river below. Absolutely enamored and unyielding to everyone except you who he'd mold himself to better love as time goes on.

At your expression, his smile fades into a look of concern. His gaze follows yours, to his hand. And the brief flash of threading is gone but he knows exactly what you've seen.

His gaze returns to you, hollow. Slowly setting down the bag he was carrying and slowly crosses the room to get to you.

He seems... Empty. As if any signals for how he should be acting have been cut off. His looming figure almost listless as he gazes down at you with a dull gaze, no life behind his eyes. After a moment, his voice finally rings out. "Has this one displeased you, little love?"

You feel an inherent wrongness about how your beloved husband is speaking presumably of himself as if he isn't even here, with a slight stumble back it answers his question well enough.

Dorrin slumps, like a wind up toy who's finished it's final dance. The voice that drifts through the air is so familiar yet leaves your brain trembling at the sheer magnitude of the being behind it even if unseen. "I apologize, this puppet has proven defective for its sole purpose. Rest assured, such an oversight will be rectified promptly. Only the best shall be allowed closest to you."

With a horrified expression you can only watch as Dorrin- what you know to be Dorrin is... Folded away. Limbs snapping together into a ball not unlike when a child is ready to toss away their doll. And it's... Not there anymore. No blink of an eye, no noise or sight, it was there and it wasn't. And now you stand in the empty living room of a home you've shared with someone you thought you knew so very well.

What do you do?

What can you do?

You can feel gazes on you still, the same when that thing would watch you while you rested together. You can try to move towards a door or even a window and find them consumed in darkness. There is no threat here, but you are not allowed to leave at the moment.

You don't know it yet, but Dorrin just wants to keep you safe in the home he's so carefully crafted for you alone. Tonight he'll leave a new puppet at your door, identical to the last hundred that had done something leading to any inconvenience on you. You've never noticed before, and he doesn't know how to condense himself into a small enough form to be loved by such a miniscule creature he's so deeply fallen for. But that puppets strings weren't good enough to remain hidden. The new one will be better.

Only the best for you.

He will ensure it.

(Basically what happens when an endless creature of Eldritch being falls for a little bitty human? Why not craft a puppet to express his love for them on a scale they can comprehend! But those fickle puppets- never perfect enough for his little love)

[yandereunsolved]

"Don't Stop Me Now" — Five situations where yandere Five loses it

cw(s): yandere themes, non-descriptive self harm, mention of suicide and domestic violence

1 — someone ✗ something is trying to harm you

Pretty straightforward. 

This is the numero uno that comes along with every yandere.  

Five grew up with an abusive, emotionally absent father figure. He was pushed to be the best, the most successful of his siblings, just for an ounce of affection. He was isolated for so many years with nothing more than a department store doll. He has had to put away whatever loose morals he had to slave away in The Comission.

Then you come along and brighten up his life. No, you do more than that. You perfect it. 

Then someone comes and tries to strip that away from him?

It's safe to say you've only seen that crazed look in his eyes when you're in danger. He doesn't care about whatever mission, the greater good, or whatever the fuck when you may end up being killed. He's swift and merciless, just as he was taught. 

After he makes sure you are okay, he'll hold you to his chest for what feels like forever. He just needs to become secure again in the fact you are alive. You are here with him right now. It helps ground him so he doesn't end up going about on a killing spree. 

Yes. That has happened one too many times. 

Klaus now knows not to joke about random people flirting with you. Their spirits won't stop harassing him. In his defense, how was he supposed to know Five would just go out and slowly torture them before letting them waste away into death? Klaus didn't think Five was that unhinged. He knows better now.

2 — you harm yourself (in any way)

He keeps an observant eye on you, so it would be a miracle if you managed to accomplish anything along those lines. 

Two words. no. more. 

He has the internal breakdown. He's just standing there and staring at you. There are tears in his eyes. He wants to yell, to freak out, but his voice cracks far too much when he tries to reprimand you. 

No. Just no. 

That's the only word that encapsulates how he feels. 

He is not going to allow you to hold any sharp objects. He makes sure you have no contact with Diego. Five is paranoid and suspects that Diego had something to do with this. Somehow. 

You are more strictly monitored. 

He has an entire list of mental and physical health questions he asks you each morning. If you tell him to leave you alone or that you are tired, there's about a seventy percent chance that he'll go off. It would definitely be in a Five way. 

He'd be teleporting around you and sputtering out statistics and caring yet demeaning words. 

3 — keeping him out of the loop

Five is meticulous. 

When you keep him out of the loop—which could mean not saying good morning to him or hiding a romantic relationship—he feels so powerless again. He needs to know what is going on with you so he can protect you if need be. 

Don't even try to argue with him. 

He's older than you, so he knows best. 

He has so much more experience at anything and everything. He can solve all of your problems if you just let him in. 

Does that mean he will do the same in return? No. 

There's no reason for you to know what he is doing at any point of the day. You don't need to worry your pretty little head about it. Aka, he's doing things that are morally gray at best and human rights violations at... that's still one of the better cases. 

Just tell him. Or he'll force it out of you.

4 — things being out of his control

This ties in with every other scenario. 

He needs to be in control.

Everything has to be perfect. 

If one thing goes wrong, then you may slip through his fingers. 

That isn't allowed to happen. It can't. 

It eats away at him at night to think something could happen that he can't control. 

The apocalypse happened, and he had to spend decades just accepting that fact. Until there was a chance he could change it. 

Now he has to. He has to change, sort, and neatly put away everything. No speck of dust is out of place. If it is, then he'll end up pushing himself into fixing it, to the point of exhaustion or death—whichever comes first.

5 — escaping successfully

The only time there is a plausible chance he will resort to physical violence. 

Why, why, why, why, why, why!?

How could he be so idiotic? How did you do it? Who helped you? 

Whoever helped you is going to die if they haven't already killed themselves because they know Five is going to be coming after them. 

He will act nonchalant, like he is in control, when he finally finds you once again. He'll tease, poke, and prod at your fear, like a ringmaster taming their lion. A part of this act is the truth. He has you back, and now everything can go back to how it was. The other part of him is still devastated and wants to curl up in your lap and just be safe there.

Yandere Five: fragile—handle with care.  

✗ @clarioscharm

[nanowrimo]

How to Use Meal Scenes to Develop Characters, Relationships, and Your World

Worldbuilding can sound complicated, but why not make it a little more simple by focusing on food? It may be the domestic touch you need! NaNo Participant Lacey Pfalz talks about using meal scenes to develop your world and your characters.

There’s one thing that remains a universal human truth: we love food! While our perspectives on food might differ, people all across the globe gather together during mealtimes — and thus, mealtimes are made memorable.

Meal scenes can also help your story in a few key ways, especially if it’s fantasy, science fiction or historical fiction.

Meal Scenes for Worldbuilding

If we’re using food for worldbuilding purposes, does that mean we can say we’re worldcooking?

Just kidding! Worldbuilding, especially in historical fiction, science fiction, and fantasy, is an integral part of what you must do as a writer (In truth, it’s also important for writers from other genres, but we’re specializing in these three today).

Meal scenes can be an important part of the worldbuilding process. Food is intrinsically tied to a culture or a country, or even a small region. That’s why it’s important, when building your own world, to take time to figure out the bare minimum of what your characters will be eating.

Let’s do an example. Your world is fantasy, your kingdom set beside a wide river. Perhaps your capital city, where much of the action is located, is surrounded by wetland.

If this is the case, what types of food would likely grow there? Seafood, fished from the large river, might be your characters’ staple proteins, while rice might grow better than another grain because of your kingdom’s wetlands. Fruit, perhaps even coconuts, might be the sweet stuff your main character loves to devour.

Remember that your world directly affects what types of food your characters will be having: is there coffee in space? What about in Byzantine Turkey or your new riverside kingdom?

Shannon Chakraborty does a phenomenal job with this in her fantasy series The Daevabad Trilogy, which is set in the eighteenth century across the Middle East. Her first book, The City of Brass, is especially good at showcasing the often-fragrant dishes of the various cultures across this region of the world (some copies of the book even have a short list of recipes from the book that foodies can try whipping up for themselves).

While her book is set within the fantastical world of the Djinn, her food is based upon recipes that have been preserved for centuries.

There’s one small reminder with all of this: it’s important not to get too caught up in describing each dish so much that you end up taking the focus away from the characters in a meal scene. Meal scenes can be breaks from fast action, but they should also continue the plot.

Meal Scenes for Developing Characters & Relationships

Character development can be hard, especially if you have a handful of characters that you love! But in order to make your readers love them too, you have to show them interacting with the world around them.

That guy we love to hate? Maybe he’s a loner who has grown up eating by himself. Having him forced to sit and eat with a group of people who have known each other for years might be an awkward moment for him, but it helps readers to learn more about his own worldview — and it might just help get him out of his shell, or at least off the love-to-hate list.

Besides helping you develop a single character, writing meal scenes with some of your characters can also help readers learn more about the relationship between your characters.

Let’s say you have your main character, MC. MC leans over and steals a French fry from her best friend. There’s no issue, right? That’s because they like each other, and the best friend has likely eaten with MC before, and knows she enjoys stealing food from other people’s plates.

But when MC tries it again, this time with the guy sitting next to her, he whacks her hand to stop her from stealing. This sparks an argument that seems, at least to everyone else watching it, pointless, but readers will know from the rest of the story that they’re the enemies-to-lovers trope. This argument is just one of many before they finally acknowledge their feelings towards one another.

See how that worked? A meal scene wasn’t useless; it pulled the story along by giving readers another taste of the enemies-to-lovers trope that so many enjoy reading.

If you need a more visible example of how this can play out, try watching a movie like Pride & Prejudice, (the book is amazing, but I’m suggesting the movie as a visual aid). The movie does a great job showcasing just how different the members of the Bennet family are individually, how they act around each other, and how they act around company.

There’s often little action in meal scenes, so they’re not meant to be overused. The plot should also still be there — take the cringey proposal scene between Mr. Collins and Elizabeth in Pride & Prejudice, for example, which follows directly after a meal when the rest of her family abandons her. In this case, the plot (and Mr. Collins’ advances) ruin her meal.

Perhaps your meal scene is the much-needed respite in between battling fierce aliens for planet Earth, or the first time your main character’s enemy-to-lover has entered her home. Either way, meal scenes are an important way to immerse your readers in what kind of world they’re imagining as well as showcasing how your characters act and — more importantly — how they act around each other.

Lacey Pfalz is a travel journalist by day, hopeful author by night. She belongs to the class of graduates she dubs the Class of COVID-19, having graduated with a double major in history and writing at Wisconsin Lutheran College in 2020. Her writing passions include fantasy, science fiction and historical fiction (with a little bit of romance, of course!). As someone with a physical disability, it’s her dream to write a fantasy series featuring a main character like her. Header Image by Jack Sparrow

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

How they Kiss You (Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Tighnari)

cw:Fluff, Very suggestive, very slight Kaeya angst

Kaeya x gn!reader, Xiao x gn!reader, Zhongli x gn!reader, Tighnari x gn!reader

Requests and Asks are OPEN

Kaeya

Kaeya's kisses come in several forms depending on his moods

More often than not they're teasing kisses, quick, with varying amounts of tongue. 

Somehow they still manage to leave you breathless and always, always wanting more

Kaeya seems to find your reactions amusing. He’ll pull away only for you to chase after him. After doing this several times he’ll “give in” and capture your lips for something long and passionate that makes all the teasing worth it. These usually lead to a good fucking that leaves both of you sleepy and satisfied

Other times, however, his kisses are incredibly gentle. They’re slow and sweet, accompanied by fingers in your hair or a hand cupping your cheek. These ones don't lead to anything more.

Or rather, these soft make out sessions lead to heart-pangs because you know that this is one of the ways Kaeya comforts himself. He loves your kiss, he loves your touch, and he lets them drive away the pain that he can’t always bury

sprinkled between these longer kisses, both the comforting ones and the passionate ones, are kisses to the top of your head

He finds it absolutely hilarious when you pout and glare because it’s all too easy for him to use his height to his advantage like that

Xiao

Xiao’s kisses change greatly as your relationship develops

At first his kisses are very hesitant. He often lets you take the initiative

When he does initiate he treats you a little like glass. He sees his strength as a yaksha and doesn’t want to accidently hurt you. Not when he’s finding that he’s craving something a little more passionate

Eventually, however you do manage to convince him that as human as you are, you’re not fragile. That humans are built to kiss and be kissed

Once he figures this out, make out sessions change drastically

You frequently find yourself perched on his lap, arms around his shoulders while he rests his hands on your hips. really, there isn’t an inch of space between you as you kiss until both of you are breathless

Zhongli

Honestly, full out, blistering make out sessions don’t happen very often with Zhongli (not that he can’t. Every now and then he gets in the mood and good bye underwear, lol)

He prefers things that are softer, more subtle, especially in public. Cheeks, fingers, foreheads, quick kisses on the lips, each full of tenderness and love. You never ever doubt the depth of feeling the ex-archon has for you

Despite his fondness for chaste kisses, things that say “I love you” not “let me fuck you”, he’s just as adept at diving you mad with lust

He presses kisses to your wrists, your neck--he really, really, really like kissing your neck, whether he’s trying to start something or not---every now and then using the faintest pressure of teeth.

Either way, you really never complain

Tighnari

I don’t see him giving a lot of casual kisses. He’s busy. You’re busy. Everybody is busy. The forest watch is busy gossiping about you, lol. So kisses and other forms of affection are kept to the moments that can be stolen from daily life

That doesn’t mean he’s opposed to kisses and stuff though. See, with him it’s not as much about how he kisses you, but where he kisses you.

Any chance he gets, he’s dragging you out of the forest watcher camp in an attempt to get some privacy and attempt to prevent some of the gossip that comes with living in relatively close quarters with people and up a tree.

He found very early on in your relationship that Sumeru’s massive trees make very good make out spots. Not only is it far away from anyone watching or listening in, but the leaves provide plenty of cover.

Of course, “where” doesn’t just refer to the trees

Tighnari is a researcher through and through. Since you started dating he’s come to enjoy “researching” the best ways to reduce you to a pile of mush

So while deep kisses with lots of tongue is fun, he likes leaves light, teasing kisses on your neck, any exposed skin on your chest, the skin just below your ears, and anything else he can get to.

There have been many occasions where his “research” has prompted experiments in just how far you can go in a tree.

[thegnomelord]

With all these M!reader courting (and practically rizzing up everyone) in their own hybrid way, imagine poor Ghost, he's like toothless, doesn't know how tf to court someone of say, even his own species because he was once human

And with that rant about all the absurd ways of courting, what would he call as his own?

Would he give gifts like Gaz and Price? A piece to remember them by?

I doubt he'd be the physical type like cuddly ol soap who loves to scent,

He's practically a shadow (literally and figuratively) and I feel like the best he can do is stare and slowly blink like a cat (and let's be honest most of the time we don't see his eye) so he might even just act like a stalker and watch from afar, not much of a scent even on him if he's near, even when in the midst of battle

So what can he do then? I feel like going to Price is his best bet and when he tries to scent something like Soap it smells like nothing

I feel like he'd beat himself up on it

(Also fucking love your courting works, I've been eating that shit up its become a hyperfixation)

- ☕️ Anon

I reckon that staring would be less of a wraith thing and more of a Simon thing. Because like, wraiths don't reproduce, they're made not born. So poor Simon just has to try to use the knowledge he had before he died.

CW:NSFW subbot ghost, topdom reader, rough and quick

He likes you.

Just like he's a Riley, just like the sky is blue, his affection for you is one of the few truths of the world he doesn't question. Only problem — he doesn't know how to tell you. You're not human and neither is he, not anymore, but he's woefully unprepared when it comes to you, doesn't know if he's supposed to go about it as a wraith or as a man.

He tries; Simon's phone is full of open tabs containing every piece of information about your species, trying to find grains of truth in the contradicting mess of words. He's memorized how you like your morning coffee down to the last flake of sugar, watching your face carefully when you trudge to the communal kitchen to find your mug steaming and everything laid out near it. He knows your schedule inside out, always a few minutes earlier in the gym when you come in, offering to spot you, his dark eyes roaming over your sweat covered skin. His gaze is always flickering to you, regardless of what you're doing or where you are — watching, guarding, making sure the world doesn't take away that spark like it did with Simon Riley.

But you fail to notice it, him. Or maybe you do but don't care. Don't see him as anything but your teammate, like you should, like he should. God, what is he even doing trying to fucking woo you like some lovestruck Victorian gent. . .

Simon feels like banging his head against the wall.

Maybe then something in his imperceptibly rotten skull will come loose, tumble around in what's left of his brain like a snowball rolling down a hill to form an avalanche, or at least a vestige of a good thought; an idea, something he could use to get out of this rut.

He doesn't go to Price for advice. The old dragon finds him, knows him long enough to figure out when Simon's up to his throat in shite. Price sits down next to him as they watch you and Gaz spar, "Alright, spit it out." Price hums as he lights his cigar.

Simon's lips form a thin line beneath his mask, his fingers gripping the meat of his arm to keep his form stable. His eyes don't stray from you, cataloging every trail of sweat as it rolls down your skin, watching your muscles flex beneath your skin as you throw a punch, making a mental note to show you the mistakes you make in private and—

His shoulders fall, "'m fucked." The words escape him like he'd been punched in the gut.

Price gives him the side eye, looking him up and down. "Doesn't look like you enjoyed it."

"Hah." Simon says in a dry tone. "Always a comedian captain."

Price chuckles, wing spreading out to bump against his shoulder. "Jokes aside," he lets out a small puff of smoke, "You could just tell 'im."

Simon's eyes narrow, "What, not going to suggest I go find some obscure shite ta gift him?" If he could find some concrete information about your species courting habits he would have done so by now, would have happily torn up Heaven and Hell looking for whatever would make you look at him the same way Price looks at Kyle.

"No," Price rolls his eyes, standing up and stretching. "Just go talk to 'im you bloody muppet, going to creep him out if you keep staring like that." He nods his head towards you.

Simon's head is a dark sea of thoughts as he spars with you, tries to make it seem like nothing's wrong but you catch on quick; he's distracted, falling for moves he'd once chastised you for pulling, the edges of his form crackling like the static of a tv, shadowy smoke rising from his blackened arms as he throws a punch that goes wide.

He grunts as you knock him to the ground, your hands on his shoulders to pin him down. "You alright?" You ask, your brows furrowed. "You're not fighting like you usually do."

You can barely see his dark eyes narrow, his body still beneath yours. "I'm fine." He growls out, tries to ignore how the warmth of your body against his makes him feel, nibbling on his nerves like a craving for a drug he can't have.

"Uhuh," You hum, a little confused why he's letting you pin him down so long. "Come on Ghost, you're not getting soft on me are you?" With a huff you attempt to pull away, knowing you couldn't force words out of his mouth.

The sudden lack of your warmth is what forces his body to move before his mind does, shadows shooting out to grab you before congealing back into his arm, pulling you down so his lips can crash on yours.

You grunt into his mouth from the surprise, your eyes wide with surprise. Simon's frozen heart cracks just a bit when you don't respond, only to melt when you finally kiss him back. Your lips feel like heaven against his, Simon's eyes shutting and long tongue slipping into your mouth.

You choke a bit, pulling back to catch your breath, your eyes widening as Simon's long tongue slips back into his mouth. "Fucking hell Simon." You pant,

"Got a whole bag of tricks." Simon says, his throat dry. "I-" He begins to say, thoughts running on how to tell you he wants you but no words coming out, something clogging his throat like molasses.

"Yeah," You grin, the lights overhead casting a halo around your head. "I know." Tipping your head down you catch his lips again, your kiss deep and rough, Simon's teeth digging into your lip until it bleeds, your sharp fangs nipping his tongue, blood mixing in your mouths, arousal starting to course through your veins.

Simon's hands grope your ass, pulling your crotch down on his so your cocks can rub together. Simon greedily swallows your groan, his arms starting to fizzle, shadowy smoke wrapping around you to keep you close as his hand sneaks down to undo your belts, fishing out your cocks.

"Christ," You groan and pant into his mouth, grabbing hold of both of your cocks and rocking your hips into his, pleasure buzzing up your spine.

"Don't bring 'im in here." Simon growls and throws an arm around your neck, demanding your attention with a kiss, longue tongue pushing half way down your throat and hips bucking up to rub his cock against yours. "Just us here."

You moan against his lips and fuck, if that isn't the prettiest sound he's ever heard, his mind clouding over with pleasure and before either one of you knows it Simon's cumming, pulling you down with him, your combined cum painting both of your stomachs.

It takes a few moments for Simon to catch his breath, his pupils blows wide as he stares up at you. "Shite." He breathes out, boneless beneath you.

You grin, "You can say that again." and you lean down to kiss him again.

[hiraethwa]

˚₊ ˚ ‧ — catch me if i fall

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader, best friend!oikawa tooru x reader a/n: hurt/comfort as requested by @daisy-room i think i don’t understand what fluff means… and i went too hard on the plot 💀 enjoy! word count: 2.8k

“tooru!” you pout at your best friend who is currently being swarmed by his group of fan girls vying for his attention. 

the brunette almost takes too much pleasure in sprinkling little bits of affection to each of the girls, flashing his to-die-for dreamy smiles and cute lines to keep them hooked. unlike them, you know oikawa well enough, too well, one could say, to fall for his boyish charms. 

you resort to smacking him on the back of his head. 

“oi, y/n-chan! that hurts,” he pouts back at you, rubbing his head. you almost regret your decisions as a few girls stare back at you in displeasure. his little group of fans is scary, you think. 

“i said, iwaizumi’s waiting for us.” you spare a glance back at the girls, shuddering at their intensity for their idol, no more than a normal human being like everyone else, but talented and insane. “and stop messing with them, you’ll regret it one day.” 

he sticks his tongue out at you childishly before turning back to them and flips his personality a complete 180 with a sheepish smile, apologizing to them in a gentle voice. ack, he gives you the chills whenever he is around his fans. 

once you successfully pry him away from his fans, he follows after you like a lost puppy, curving around buildings to get to the school entrance. “y/nnn,” oikawa drags out the last syllable of your name. he slings an arm across your shoulders, leaning onto you with his full weight as if he didn’t weigh anything. 

you stagger a step and push back against his warmth. “oi, you’re heavy.” 

“so mean!” he exclaims at your jab and eases off you but still keeps his arm around you. 

the cool autumnal breeze nudges your figures from behind, reminding you of the change in seasons that is bound to come soon. it tugs at your hair, sending strands of them flying in your face. you frown at it just as oikawa runs his hand through your hair, coaxing the stray ones back in place. 

he hums in appreciation as you lean into his touch, savoring the one thing you are deprived of with iwaizumi, but given freely by him. “there,” his slender fingers tracing down the side of your face, tipping your chin up towards him. 

“you’re evil,” you whine, burying your face in your hands. he knows. this fucker knows what he is doing, showing his affection through physical touch, after teasing iwaizumi about it, and making him freeze up and hesitate whenever you try to initiate any type of skinship with him. 

you understand though, since you barely even started dating, it’s normal that iwaizumi is not that comfortable with you yet. unlike oikawa. sometimes you wish he is more like oikawa, doing whatever he pleases without care for your feelings. 

oikawa lifts an eyebrow at you, as if questioning what could he possibly be doing that is evil. you elbow him in the hip, relenting, “best friends?”

he cracks a wide smile at you, a genuine one at that, not one of those that he flashes at his fans to charm them. “was that so hard?” you could barely hear his words, being smothered by his chest and his arms wrapped around you. you smile into his shirt, nodding your head in pretense to be annoyed at him. 

oikawa tightens his arms around you, cherishing the warmth of your body in his embrace, just as something in his chest tightens. your words from earlier echoes in his head – you’ll regret it one day.

a polite throat clearing from behind oikawa has you breaking away from his touch. “izumi!” you beam at your almost boyfriend as if he hangs the sun in the sky. 

oikawa swallows thickly, glancing down at you as his hands drop to his sides. no, not one day, he already does. 

iwaizumi smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you basically bounce out of your skin excitedly at the affection he is showing you, rambling about your day so far. oikawa thinks he almost regrets talking to his best friend about you before they left practice today, but how could he when iwaizumi’s simple touch brings the most dazzling smiles out of you? 

you look back at him in delight and a hint of curiosity, a question in your eyes at iwaizumi’s newfound affection. what did you tell him? oikawa only shrugs, cracking a crooked smile at you, an answer in itself.

you’ve only become friends barely a year ago when he had found you at practice, thinking you’re one of his fans. he had mistakenly asked if you wanted his autograph, and you laughed in his face, unfazed by his pretty boy act. and he had been curious, of who you were there for, so he made his second mistake by asking you. you had only waved a hand at him as you took your leave. “maybe you’ll find out another day.” and that was that. 

his third mistake was finding out who you were and trying to be friends with you. his charms did not work on you, and you were just polite enough to tolerate his playboy presence. but he kept trying, pulling a chair over to your desk during lunch breaks and coming over to talk to you during breaks at practice. you only started warming up to him when he dropped his flirty act, behaving like a normal high schooler.

“so, are you going to tell me who you keep coming to our practices for?” you look up at the tall brunette, surprise evident on your face. you thought he would have figured it out by now, thinking you were not so subtle with your staring, but… you guess not. 

you debate whether you should tell oikawa about your not so small crush. perhaps he could help you out. or perhaps it was doomed and you had zero chance with him. he certainly acts like he hates you, a frown marring his handsome face whenever you were near, and curt answers to your polite questions

“oikawa.” speaking of the devil, iwaizumi strides up to the two of you, a scowl on his features as soon as he notices your presence. you look away, a sigh escaping your throat. it’s hopeless.

but oikawa notices the way your face falls whenever his best friend comes near, his sourness like an unwanted mistress intruding on the atmosphere. and he realizes. oh. oh.

“if you keep frowning, you’re gonna have it etched onto your face permanently, iwa-chan,” he teases, walking back to practice. 

iwaizumi glares at oikawa’s retreating figure, reluctantly following him, but not before shooting a dour look in your direction. he does not trust you. that much should be clear from the way he treats you. he does not know what your goal is, gaining oikawa’s fervent interest and becoming close friends with him in the short span of several weeks. 

you could be playing hard to get to manipulate oikawa into taking an interest in you, but for what, he could not think of. so iwaizumi keeps you at arm’s length to protect his best friend, who’s too trusting and confident in himself, even if he has had a crush on you since the first year of high school. 

oikawa resorts to leaving the two of you alone whenever he has the chance to. what can go wrong? (just about everything) he invites you over to his house when iwaizumi is over, and takes an intensive amount of time to make tea for his guests. he asks iwaizumi to walk you home, using the excuse that he needs to stay back and practice his serves more. but he can't help but feel that he is making another mistake, and he hates that he is secretly relieved that his best friend doesn’t seem to be able to stand you. 

you break first, tired of your crush treating you like shit when you did nothing to warrant such behavior in the first place. the last straw being iwaizumi smiling and talking to a stranger who was asking for directions when all he did for the last few minutes was scowl at you. 

“alright, spit it out. why do you hate me so much?” you cannot help but taste the bitterness in your mouth as you asked iwaizumi the question that has been on your mind for a while. 

“i don’t—” iwaizumi frowns again. 

“you fucking do. you look at me like i’m no better than dust under your feet, and you reserve that frown only for me. you talk like—scratch that, i get the sense that you wish you don’t have to talk to me at all.”

“fine, you want to do this? let’s do it. why are you getting close to oikawa? i’ve seen girls like you do the same thing for their own ulterior motives. oikawa may be too blind to notice it, but i am not.” he challenges. 

“girls like me? what is that supposed to mean? why don’t you ask oikawa that since he’s the one who refused to leave me alone?”

“if you’re playing hard to get so that he falls for you, you’re not the first one to do that. he could be an idiot, but he isn’t going to fall for your tactics.” but even iwaizumi isn’t sure of that himself, oikawa has never shown such a strong interest in anyone before. “and stop showing up at practices, you’re distracting him.” and me. 

“you—you don’t even know me, and that’s what you think of me?” you wipe your tears off roughly with your sleeve, frustrated with iwaizumi’s perception of you. “well guess what? i’m the fucking idiot here because the one i like is you!” 

you didn’t care what he thought. or what he was going to say in response to your sudden confession. nothing good, surely. you could imagine him scoffing at you, stomping on your heart like it is nothing to him, and you could not bear it, that pain in your heart that felt so real, so you ran. 

you stop showing up to practice like he requested, and iwaizumi stops seeing you around school as if you actively tried to avoid him. good, he thinks. good that you didn’t have any ill intentions for his best friend, but… you liked him. and he liked you too. and he also broke your heart. why would you still like him after the awful things he said to you that day?

iwaizumi frowns as he notices your absence at practice for the third day in a row. did he break something so precious that it will never be whole again?

“y/n’s not here again and she’s avoiding me. i suppose you had something to do with it?” oikawa stops next to iwaizumi, also looking at the usual spot you lounge at on the bleachers during practice. 

“i think i messed up, oikawa.” 

“how bad?”

“i thought she has an ulterior motive in getting close to you, but she likes me and i—” iwaizumi swallows thickly. “—i like her too.”

“you’re an idiot.” oikawa’s face is unreadable. strange, iwaizumi thinks, unable to figure out if he is upset or disappointed in him. “fix it.”

iwaizumi knows he should, oikawa is just stating the obvious, which is uncharacteristic of him, being the one to frequently speak in metaphors that confuses the shit out of everyone. but he has to admit, saying that he will fix it is easier than actually doing it when you’re turning around and going back towards the direction you came from whenever you catch sight of him. 

especially when you’re stomping out into the pouring rain even if you didn’t have an umbrella the moment your eyes land on him. 

“what do you want, iwaizumi?” you snap at him, not caring that you’re drenched from head to toe in that moment. 

“it’s hajime to you.” he shields you with his umbrella, fully aware that it wasn’t large enough for two, that his left side is getting soaked. 

“why? you basically told me to stop showing up in front of you.” you are walking at a fast pace, eager to get home, away from the boy who shattered your heart carelessly, but iwaizumi keeps up with your long strides easily. 

“you never gave me a chance to say anything that day.” his steps are in sync with yours, not even losing a breath. damn him and his volleyball stamina.

“what, so you could humiliate me further?” you huff, hurrying your steps. 

he yanks your wrist, snapping you around to face him. “because i like you too, y/n. i’m sorry for saying those things to you, and for being an asshole to you. so please, would you forgive me?” without pausing for a beat, he frowns at your state, worry shining through his warm brown eyes. “you’re gonna get sick like this.”

and then he had walked you home without room for protest, making sure you took a warm shower and changed into clean dry clothes before leaving. it wasn’t until he left that you realized you never gave him a reply. 

but you never got the chance to revisit the confession, because the next time you saw iwaizumi, he was busy kicking oikawa’s ass for flirting with his fans instead of focusing on practice. 

you made a double take when he greeted you by name for the first time then, offering you the cold drink you always get from the vending machine, even though half the time it was sold out. he had smiled at you. and walked you home voluntarily. and took the time to talk to you during practice breaks. and gone out of his way to get your favorite bread from the bakery before school each day. 

weeks had gone by, neither of you bringing up the topic, until the realization hit you: this is iwaizumi’s (whom you had started calling izumi instead of iwaizumi or hajime, settling for the compromise between the two) way of courting you. 

it had been a song and dance of polite touches and gentlemanly gestures, shy smiles and conversations that never seemed to end. but today feels different than before, as if whatever talk iwaizumi had with oikawa had changed something between you two. 

instead of going home after he walked you back to yours, iwaizumi had asked to come in to your home. 

he sits on the floor, leaning back on his arms, strong muscles rippling with each small movement, and pats the space between his legs. 

“who are you and what did you do to my izumi?” you can’t help but tease, surprised by his forwardness, making his cheeks color as he realize what he was doing. 

regardless, you plop down between his thighs and he circles your waist from behind, leaning his chin on your shoulder. “is this alright?” 

you only hum in agreement, enjoying the physical affection from the boy you like, memorizing the shape of him against you. 

“so i asked oikawa today if he liked anyone.” 

“does he?”

“no, i—” iwaizumi gulps, “—i thought that maybe he liked you.”

you laugh at the notion that oikawa, the notorious ladies’ man could fall for someone as plain as you. “izumi, hell would freeze over before that happens.”

“i know,” he whispers. “it’s stupid but i needed to hear it from him.”

you sense that there could be something more beneath his words, some deeper reason as to why he chose to tell you this. so you ask him, curiosity peaked, “why?”

it takes him a moment to think about it before he answers, “because a part of me thought that you would rather be with him if he liked you, everyone does. i mean, why wouldn’t they? he’s more talented, more driven, more charming, more. and i was afraid that you would be too.”

“i like you, iwaizumi hajime.” you turn around in his arms, holding his face with your hand. “and i’ll keep telling you that until you get it into that thick skull of yours.”

he buries his face into the crook of your neck, tightening his hold around you. you thread your fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp gently while returning his hug. 

“i’m sorry. i don’t deserve you, especially with how i treated you like shit before.” he mumbles into your skin. 

“too bad that’s for me to decide, isn’t it? you can redeem yourself by smothering me with physical affection. death by love sounds romantic, doesn’t it?”

he lifts his head, finally meeting your eyes with his red-rimmed ones. “would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?” he blurts, eyes widening like he didn’t plan on asking you right then and there. 

you grin at him. “i like you too, izumi.” 

“fuck, i had a whole date planned and everything.” he buried his face in his hands, too embarrassed to look at you again.

“that’s a yes, in case you are wondering.” you giggle at him as you pull his hands and lace them with yours. 

between the weirdly cute noise you just made and that sun-like smile of yours, iwaizumi hajime thinks that he is a goner. 

looking for more? browse the library

[yourheart-inmyhands]

I really like your writing. It gives me strength to continue living. Thank you!! Can I request Yandere! Pantalone Zhongli Neuvi Ayato with Tsundere Reader👉👈

i cannot confirm or deny whether or not i fully understood this. for clarification, i know what a tsundere is and even googled it to be double sursies, but i have never written about a tsundere before so i don't know how good this is, sorrryyyy ;v;

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, like obsessive behaviors, intentional setting off of reader, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Pantalone would be so confused and irked. He doesn’t understand it, he doesn’t understand you. You’re so cold and off-putting at times and other times you’re a fumbling, blushing mess. He’s confused as to why you seem to flip between the two so fervently, he tries his best to understand it but all the mora in Teyvat still couldn’t help him figure it out.

Pantalone and you sit, silently eating dinner in his office. It’s a typical night with nothing but the company between you two. “Here, try this.” Pantalone uses his fork to pick up a bite of his food, something he had been served but that you had initially passed on. He smiles softly at the faint blush that settles onto your cheeks, brushing over the soft skin. When he points out how he adores it though it only darkens as you scowl at him. Even if he doesn’t understand the sudden switch, he still brings to light that he finds your pout even cuter, launching you into a spiral of angry words.

Yandere!Zhongli is a little baffled at first but seems to quickly pick up on what things cause that subtle shift in your behavior. He often does things intentionally to make you ‘upset’ , finding you to be quite humorous and adorable. 

Zhongli couldn’t help but smile as you ranted and raved about a comment of his, your balled fist lightly tapping his chest as you pretended to strike him. When a chuckle arose he had to bring his hand up to politely cover his mouth, his teeth sinking into his tongue to prevent the escape of the noise. You were simply too cute, it was impossible for him to not make little comments that he knew would set you off. It was never anything harsh, he could never hurt your feelings like that, but he still knew which phrases worked best against you. And until you no longer seemed affected by them, he’d continue to use them.

Yandere!Neuvillette is entirely perplexed. His understanding of human behavior is limited to what he’s observed over the years from his position in the court and what he’s learned from stories the melusines tell him. He tries asking you about it every time only to never receive an answer, he’s even asked other people if your behavior is normal and all they can seem to reply with is that you’ve always been that way.

To say Neuvillette was confused would be an understatement, he simply could not wrap his head around any part of you. He couldn’t even ask what made you act so mean sometimes cause you’d get upset and say you weren’t being mean! Asking around to the townsfolk didn’t aid much in his pursuit of understanding either, people just seemed to know only that you’ve always been like that. Neuvillette is nothing but determined to understand what makes you, you though, so you can rest assured nothing you say will deter him from you.

Yandere!Ayato finds it rather amusing, often calling you into his office whilst he’s working so that he can see your pouty face as he teases you. The faint blush crawling across your skin makes your true feelings evident though, even still he knows when enough is enough.

Ayato smiled amusedly as he watched you rant and rave in front of his desk. Today was another day where he had called you forth to fluster you, you don’t know why you still came at this point! Your pout, crossed arms, and sudden attitude only makes things more amusing, with Ayato resting his elbows on his desk, hands intertwined beneath his chin to support his head. His eyes never leave you as he listens with intent, knowing that even if it’s just senseless rambles about how ludicrous his behavior is, it’s still you speaking to him and he’ll always listen.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Do What I Cannot

This is based on My Graveyard Song because I was captivated by the idea of Danny’s parents burying him alive. That’s basically the only part I took though. This is about him being confronted with his parents again once freed.

This is unedited so feel free to point out mistakes. Contains graphic description of violence.

-----------

The Justice League’s newest hero has been a wonderful asset, truly! Phantom is a rather powerful hero and even though some of his methods are a little questionable he follows the ‘no killing’ rule more strictly then some of the long-term members. Even if it’s just because he doesn’t want to deal with them as ghosts it still counts. Some of the more magical people have an idea that Phantom is more powerful then he’s letting on, but they don’t push it. After all he’s still just a teenager, they don’t really want to have him dealing with universal threats either.

Honestly even if he weren’t a hero Batman at least would have kept him around for the impressively positive affects he has on Red Hood. Jason had been calmer and more reasonable then he had been since his resurrection since digging up that grave and teaming up with Danny. It was just a little unsettling sometimes honestly, sometimes his eyes would glint with the green of the Lazarus waters and everyone would tense up prepared for an aggressive outburst only for Jason to announce he needed to find Danny and leave. The more suspicious minds found it odd, but they figured it was just because Phantom could calm Jason down and didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Really the only problem was that knowing Phantom had alerted them to a potential new source of threat that they really knew very little about. The JLD knew some but not enough and the ways they had to fight ghosts were clunky and unreliable, they needed weapons that would work on ghosts. Not Phantom obviously, though the overly cautious ones privately thought about him too, just in case you know? And there weren’t many people who specialized in such tech, so of course their search lead them to the Drs. Fenton.

The magic users thought their methods were crude and crazy but had to admit they clearly worked so maybe it would be best to invest in at least some of their tech. At least to study and see if it could be improved on. So they were invited for a meeting, and it was decided Phantom would Not be told. Mostly because they didn’t want to stress him out and also because they’d learned these two were ‘shoot first ask questions later’ types who apparently didn’t believe there was such a thing as a good ghost so they might actually try and kill Danny on sight, which would be awkward.

The presentation they gave to the Justice League was predictably unhinged and they knew well enough to take all of it with a grain of salt, especially the part about all ghosts being evil. Danny had already explained it to them, that ghosts were driven by obsessions which meant they behaved differently then humans but the majority only lashed out when something got between them and their singular passion. Some were different, some had malicious passions and some were more complicated. Diana and J’onn both looked like they were trying hard not to pick a fight but they’d all agreed to smile and nod till they got access to the tech.

There was a familiar sudden chill in the room, looking around Batman could tell a few others felt it too, though Flash was typically oblivious.

“Oh dear,” J’onn whispered before Phantom appeared.

“Hey guys what’s up?” He asked, cheerful but slightly accusatory, they should have known better then to think they could keep the meeting from him. Before they could think of anything to say Danny’s eyes caught on the Fentons and narrowed.

“GET DOWN!” Jack yelled pulling out one of those stupid blasters from somewhere.

“What a perfect chance for a demonstration,” Maddie said, sliding on a pair of gantlets.

“You-you don’t recognize me, do you?” Danny asked, and for a moment he looked hurt, then something happened none of them had ever seen before, his eyes turned red. The toxic green they were used to changed to a deep, blood red and his feet touched the ground as he stalked forward. Jack shot, Danny didn’t break stride, a green shield blocked the blast like it was nothing. Maddie tried to lung and was immediately hit in the gut by one of Phantom’s ecto-blasts, knocking her back against the glass.

Batman leapt up and tried to lung and stop Phantom only to hit a wall that rippled with green, a bubble surrounding the ghost and the two hunters, invisible until struck.

Danny grinned, shark like teeth on full display without any mirth, white hair whipping in an unfelt wind, flowing so it almost looked like flames. “I guess I look a lot different then I did when you buried me alive huh? How long did you leave me? Because you ‘couldn’t kill you son’ so you thought it would be more merciful to lock me away till everything human about me rotted.”

“No,” Maddie gasped, recognition suddenly sharp and painful on her features.

“Yes ‘mom’,” Danny snarled bitterly. Jack tried to shoot again but the blaster was knocked out of his hands so quickly no one was sure what hit him before it could fully charge. “YOU MADE ME! AND YOU ABANDONED ME! You’re lucky someone found me, I would have gotten strong enough to break out on my own eventually and if I had I would have destroyed everything.”

“Oh my god, his parents?” Diana nearly whispered. Batman understood how she felt, Danny didn’t like to talk about how he’d ended up buried ‘alive’, that his parents were the ones who had done it… that was horrific. It made sense why he had never been able to speak about it, but Damn that would have been good to know before they had invited Danny’s abusers to give a presentation on weapons that had no doubt been used to hurt him. And now.. what? They couldn’t get to Danny, it seemed like he had gotten to the point that Raven did sometimes when her emotions overwhelmed her, could they get to Danny? Could they stop him from doing something he might regret?

“You are not our son,” Maddie hissed, her breathing still coming in a harsh wheeze from the blow to her stomach. “Danny is dead! He’s gone. You’re just an acto-entity imitating him, and not even well, you’re just a parasite.”

Danny seemed to be losing some control of his form, it was stretching, getting taller, his fingers curling into dangerous claws tipped with the blackness of the star studded void. “Pathetic mortals, you act as if you will never die, but you will join my kingdom. Perhaps it will be punishment enough to become what you hate, perhaps not. Perhaps I will speed up the process so you can’t hurt anyone else,” He snarled his hands beginning to glow with familiar green of his energy blast.

“Danny stop!” Superman said, hitting the burier to try and get through but not even he could break it. Danny didn’t seem to be responding to them though he was hesitating.

Batman was resigning himself to watching Phantom kill his once parents before Jason walked by him. Batman wasn’t usually taken by surprise, but he was shocked, and worried, both because he could see the green glow of pit madness through the eyes of his helmet, which was worrying, and because he walked through the burier keeping the rest of the heroes out like it was nothing.

He walked to Danny, taking his hand, there was a soft sizzle as the gathered green energy burned Jason’s hand without him even seeming to notice. He pulled Danny down to the ground from where he was floating, pulling the young hero into his arms. Danny let himself be pulled into Jason’s arms, the green energy fizzling out as he wrapped his own arms back around Jason’s waist, hiding against his chest. As the anger faded he slumped against Jason’s chest.

Just as the heroes were breathing a sigh of relief and relaxing Maddie went for the dropped gun. But she wasn’t fast enough as Jason drew his own pistol, the one with live ammo, and put a bullet in her head. Diana cried out in shock and Batman froze as blood and brain matter splattered over the watchtower floor and her body slumped. Before anyone could recover Jack followed, another shot executioner style and Batman had to turn away.

The watchtower was completely silent, enough so that he could hear Phantom’s soft sniffles as he cried into Jason’s chest. When Batman looked back Jason had holstered his gun and was just holding Danny Close. The green had faded enough from his eyes that it seemed safe, Batman approached warily and wasn’t surprised to find that the invisible burier was gone now that both the Fenton’s were dead.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said softly as he heard the approach, without emerging from his hiding place in Jason’s arms where he seemed to feel safe. “I wasn’t actually going to kill them, but I guess my want to, my emotions, were strong enough to make Jason respond. I didn’t mean to call you that way.” He looked up at Jason, his eyes green again though red rimmed from tears.

“It’s alright, I would have done it anyway,” Jason growled, holding Danny even tighter. “I’ve killed people for less, they deserved it.”

Batman took a deep breath forcing himself to keep his cool about his son’s constant flouting of his no killing rule, now was not the time to make Phantom feel worse. “Jason why don’t you take him down to one of the sitting rooms so he can calm down.” No doubt Phantom was reliving trauma, and grieving because even if he wanted them dead they had been his parents.

Jason nodded and scooped Danny into his arm who let out an indignant little squawk and insisted he could walk while making no attempt to actually get down. Jason ignored Danny’s performative complaints and kept the young hero’s head hidden against his chest so he wouldn’t have to see the corpses of his parents while Jason carried him out of the room.

Now, how best to deal with the aftermath of… all this. And later on he really would have to ask Danny and Jason what he’d meant by Jason responding to his energy, because it seemed like there might be something more to their relationship then just Danny calming Jason down and that was worrying to say the least.

Part 2: here

[cloudcountry]

the burdens of royalty

Genre/Tropes: Established relationship, MC and Diavolo are married.

Summary: the weight of both the devildom and the human world are on your shoulders. if it wasn't for diavolo, you would have given up a long time ago.

Author's Comments: diavolo has a very tough job. every time he said he adores mc or that one time he confessed his love to them i panicked because thats so much. its heavier than the brother's "i love you" because hes ROYALTY and its a lot of take in.

i also find myself thinking about what his affection means for mc in the long run. i mean, surely diavolo has suitors. there are obviously higher up demons like the brothers (and maddi, that one witch that pursued diavolo so aggressively it was...icky.) for diavolo to actually pursue mc, i can't imagine what would happen when those same demons figured that out. if they were to make their relationship official or even get married, mc would probably need a bodyguard 24/7 because demons are OBVIOUSLY not chill with humans (like every single brother threatening mc and especially belphegor, although his circumstances were different because they involved lilith.)

anyways i'll be quiet, i hope you enjoy C:

~~~~~

It wasn’t easy being you.

Your now husband would always tell you that being him wasn’t easy, but now that you share the burden of his position, does that not also apply to you?

It came as quite a shock to the entire Devildom the day your engagement was announced—to think, the Prince of the Devildom, marrying a human! The demon aristocracy would have had your head if they weren’t so terrified of Barbatos. You were called many things (a manipulator and a cheat being among your favorites. Really, the higher ups in demon society would know too much about manipulating their way up the social ladder.) It was like they could comprehend that you just wanted to be with the man you loved, and that race and position and titles meant absolutely nothing to do with it.

If nothing else, you suppose being human was the easiest thing they could target. It shielded Diavolo from most of the backlash, at any rate. The last thing you ever wanted was for the public to lose their trust in him (and never give his ideals for the three realms a chance.) The fact that he only wanted the best for them seemed to fly right over their heads, as if Diavolo was just as untrustworthy as you, the foreign soul from another realm.

You, now their ruler, too.

But that’s exactly why you had to clench your teeth and bear it, bear the shimmering dresses and horned guests and Barbatos breathing down your neck so nobody would even think of attacking you. Snide remarks about your clothing of choice were met with “my husband picked it out, actually,” comments about how delicious your flesh smelled were ignored but met with a stern glare from your bodyguard, greetings that sounded so fake and that were obviously meant to butter you up were laughed at just as falsely.

Is this what it meant to be a royal?

“I apologize, My Liege. This ball runs til midnight. I assure you that you may retire to your chambers once this is over.” Barbatos whispers, strategically whisking you away from a group of demonesses muttering to each other and staring at you.

“Thank you.” you try to smile, but it probably seems like more of a wince than anything, “My feet are killing me. And the guests are just as bad.”

He smiles back sympathetically, and although he isn’t touching you at all, you can still feel the warmth emanating from him. Though the Avatars of Sin fear him, Barbatos has always been nothing but kind to you. You wonder if it has something to do with Diavolo, or if he really is that cruel. You suppose it doesn’t matter, whether you’re naive or not, because the fact of the matter is that you have the man Barbatos is loyal to encased in an eternal matrimonial vow. There is no way Barbatos would attempt to harm you.

“I will run you and My Lord a bath once this event is over.” he promises, and you can only sigh with relief when you notice he’s lead you outside, were the amount of people is nowhere near what it is inside, “Do you have a preference for which aromatherapy scent I use?”

“Use whichever one Diavolo chooses.” you reply, knowing he’ll be just as tired.

Barbatos laughs, a sound so full of mirth it makes you happy, too.

“I am sorry if that was out of line, My Liege. I was just amused by the coincidence. My Lord said to select whichever scent you would like.” Barbatos chuckles.

You find yourself laughing too, despite how nasty the demons around you treat you every time you hold one of these balls. It’s so sweet and considerate and just so Diavolo. You wish you could hug him right now and thank him for always trying to be a better man for you. He doesn’t seem like he will ever realize that he’s enough already, which simultaneously warms and breaks your heart.

He really thinks too highly of you. You’re not that special.

Barbatos leads you to a bench and gestures for you to sit. You do so without complaint, and before you can say anything he’s on his knees and massaging your calves. You feel yourself heating up in the face (because you still feel like he shouldn’t be doing these things for you), but you’ve learned a while ago that he takes pleasure in serving people. So you let him do his thing.

Part of your flustered state is also embarrassment, and despite your best efforts you cannot stop your eyes from darting around the gardens to check if anyone is paying attention to you. Thankfully, they all seem enraptured by an illusionist hired for the event who’s stationed in front of the grandiose fountain. He keeps making wispy demonic figures swallow running humanoid figures whole.

You’re used to this.

Another servant comes by, one by the name of Marie Anne. You know her well. Diavolo has always been very kind to her, offering her a life away from the downright cruel aristocratic family she had before. You don’t know the details, and you don’t ask. It’s not your place.

The demoness curtsies and smiles, offering you a bubbling glass of Demonus. It can’t get you drunk, but it can be refreshing. You take it and thank her. Her cheeks turn pink and she curtsies again before scurrying towards the crowd of demons watching the illusionist.

It’s funny how some demons could be so kind and others so nasty. There were many similarities that they have with humans, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

You tell Barbatos that he can stop now, and he halts his motions and stands up immediately. You’re still not used to being pampered in such a way, so you thank him. He only smiles and tells you it’s not necessary.

“I believe this is why the servants are taking a quick liking to you.” he muses, “I hardly think they would be this receptive if My Lord had married a witch or a member of the aristocracy.”

“You really think so?” you say, feeling your cheeks burn again from the praise, “I…I’m not doing anything special.”

“A simple thank you goes a long way, My Liege.” he hums, a content smile on his face as he stands beside you.

You suppose he’s right. After all, you’ve only heard (and seen, you think bitterly) terrible things about the aristocracy. They’re rude and impatient and only ever think about themselves when it comes to policies that affect the entire Devildom. If they didn’t fear Diavolo so much they surely would have attempted to overthrow him by now.

Too bad, you think smugly, staring at the insolent illusionist again as he makes a smokey human child scream at a demonic creature emerging from an equally smokey closet, He would destroy all of you if you even tried.

You feel immature for the thought only seconds later. You’re a ruler. You need to get your act together—you can’t be just as bad as them.

“My Liege, it’s almost time for the first official dance of the night.” Barbatos bows to you, swooping his hand gracefully towards the ballroom, “Would you like to reconvene with My Lord?”

“Please. I thought I would never get to see him tonight.” you groan, attempting to walk off the slight cramp in your calf as you follow Barbatos back into the fray.

The second your shoes hit the shiny flooring and make that click clack sound, there are shimmering eyes drawn to your form. They snap away as soon as they look, though, and whether it’s disgust or fear of Barbatos you don’t know. It doesn’t matter though, because finally you’ll get to see your beloved after he’s been mingling with the aristocracy all night. It isn’t hard to find him either, because amidst all the other clumps of beautiful demons you can clearly see an even bigger clump closer to the center.

You don’t even have to mumble awkward ”excuse me’s” as they all step aside for you (mostly for Barbatos though, as he’s leading the way and they’ve already made it plenty clear that they do not respect you) and before you know it, you’re standing in front of your beaming husband and a rather disgruntled Lucifer. He looks about as comfortable as you do in your formal wear, though he doesn’t show it. It’s too bad you know him well enough to see past his facade and pick up on all his little mannerisms he would never allow anyone else to see.

You spare him the teasing right now.

You try not to feel self conscious as you take your place by Diavolo’s side, a soft giggle leaving the lips of the demon you kiss goodnight every evening.

“Hello, my dear.” he whispers in your ear, stooping down to kiss your hand, “I’m pleased to see that you’re well. Have you been enjoying the festivities?”

Lie. Lie until you’re alone with him and can finally be yourself again.

“Yes, it's been lovely.” you lie through your teeth, a single drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck as hundreds of pairs of eyes bore into you, “Barbatos has been most helpful. I’m incredibly thankful for him.”

Diavolo lights up like a little puppy dog at the mention of his butler’s name, and lets another loud laugh escape him. Despite his cheerful demeanor, you can still feel the hateful glares being directed your way. In the periphery of your vision, you can see Lucifer glaring right back at the demons behind you, and that gesture alone warms your heart. You are safe with these demons. Things will get better.

Even if better is in a few hours, when you and Diavolo will be in bed and he’ll spoon you and hold you tightly and whisper words of love and affection into your ear until you fall asleep. You discovered his habit for sleepy rambling relatively quickly after the wedding, and eventually you couldn’t sleep without it. If it wasn’t for his love, you surely never would have gotten this far with interrealm relations. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve given up.

Diavolo was the definition of shoot for the stars. He truly was an amazing demon.

“My dear.” he coos, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiles that cheesy grin you know all too well and love far too much, “May I have this dance?”

He stretches a hand out for you to take, a symbol of how you two are bridging two realms together. Some of the people here tonight may think that’s the reason you two are doing this, that it's a diplomatic display to marry each other, but they’d be wrong. You know Diavolo isn’t the type to do something like that.

It’s like the demons in this palace tonight can’t understand that you two just love each other, and that's that.

And so you take his hand.

He sighs, a blissful sound that you know only you can produce from him, and sweeps you across the dance floor. His hand on your lower back is firm and unyielding, but it’s not possessive. Even when you were still living with the demon brothers, he never once overstepped any bounds.

Part of you wished he did.

It wasn’t just him that had wanted you two to spend time together.

You suppose that doesn’t matter anymore, not when his grip is so sure, not when his heartbeat is pounding in your ears as you rest your head against him, not when the demons and demonesses are moving out of your way. You know the respect is short lived and that they are only doing this for Diavolo, but that doesn’t stop you from enjoying it for now. Moments where a demon steps aside for a human are few and far between, but with you and Diavolo working together, you hope it will become more common.

“I love you.” you whisper to him, the words quiet enough so that only you two can hear them. You aren’t ready to declare such a vulnerable thing on your own, not when these demons have the strength to rip you apart.

And so Diavolo helps you, just as he always does.

“I love you more than anything.” he declares, his voice as loud as a blaring trumpet, a sharp contrast to your softness. You feel your face begin to burn, especially when you hear a murmur ripple through the crowd, but you cannot stop the wobbly smile on your face.

“Disgusting.”

“A human? Really? How will they rule us?”

“It would have been better if we stayed with our own kind.”

“What is Lord Diavolo doing?”

The ballroom begins to buzz and you feel yourself growing less and less sure of yourself. There are tears pricking your eyes, but you will them away. You cannot let them win.

And then, you see Diavolo’s form ripple. Wings sprout from his back and horns protrude from his head and there’s an uncharacteristically stern glare on his face as he fixes his malice at who you can only assume are the perpetrators.

You feel safe.

Maybe it’s a farce.

Maybe it’s make believe.

Maybe it’s temporary.

But Diavolo’s dream is possible, and you believe in him.

You just need to endure the burdens of royalty for him—the burdens he’s been bearing by himself for far too long.

[typingdyslexiaisathing]

Mammon Adores His Human (Obey Me!) fic

The sounds of sniffling and sobs woke Mammon. Making him grumble instinctually before he recognized who it was crying. So he snapped awake to then turn to you in the bed. His mind frantic as he saw you rubbing at your eyes and trying to make yourself as small as possible. Yet he wasted no time in touching you. Both hands to your shoulders as he asked you, "Hey now. What's got you all sniffling and not sleeping, huh?"

He figured it was a nightmare or stress or something. But he wasn't expecting what you said at all. You told him how you felt like a failure. How you were a terrible person and didn't do enough for people. That you didn't feel like you deserved to be with anyone and that you were worthless. Mammon was shocked to hear you say such wild things. His internal monologue going a mile a second with 'Why would you ever think that?! Who made you feel this way?! Is this just a dumb human thing or a you thing?!' It honestly left Mammon at a loss for what to say to you.

So he decided to act instead of just speak. Taking his warm hands to place them to your cheeks and give them a gentle squish to get your attention. Meeting your gaze to look serious for once. His own words deep and rich with affection. "You silly human. I have no idea why you think that. So let the Great Mammon tell you this right now. You are the most amazing and wonderful person in all the three realms and any other besides. You do tons for me and my brothers and loads of other people all the time. Because you try your best every time. The Great Mammon sees you. I cannot begin to tell you just how much I love you."

So Mammon leaned in to give you a kiss on the forehead. Sweeping you into his arms to hug you close and sigh into the crown of your head. "You are my number one favorite fan. Nobody means more to me. Sure, I ain't the only one here to thinks that of you. I have to all but fight fang and claw to have you all to myself instead of Lucifer or Asmo or any of my other brothers. We all love you and value you as you are. Silly human. My heart has so much love for you it might explode into dozens of fireworks. I can't get enough of you and how you make me and my family feel. As your first man, I'll always love you."

He felt you shiver in his arms to then openly cry into his front. His hands rubbing over your back and arms as you thanked him for being so sweet. He let you cry it out and hugged you tight. Until the both of you laid back down and fell asleep. With Mammon thinking he would talk to Solomon and Lucifer later about how to help you feel more valued and cherished.