#i will not write a tags rant about him right now i will Resist. but just know that i love him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

this-is-krikkit · 1 year

Note

I have a challenge for you! You know the ‘almost kissing meme’? Can you write the scene with Sannes in the background, third wheeling a couple of morally dubious, amateur torturers? Merci et a pui tarde.

thank you so much for this distracting prompt, my friend!! did wonders for my nerves 👌🏻🫰🏻

Almost kissing meme: wrong atmosphere

Characters: Hange, Levi, Sannes

Tags: tw torture, tw blood, tw canon typical violence really, levihan, levihan kiss (couldn't help it lol)

Hange lets the scalpel fall on the metallic tray behind them, and before Sannes is done screaming from that latest wound, seize what's quickly becoming their favorite weapon and shove it in between the edges of the deep, oozing wound on his stomach, fingers clenching around the electrical trigger.

His cries turn into muffled gurgles as he convulses against his bounds, and it's such a fascinating sight it takes half a minute for Hange to realize Levi's tapping their shoulder and trying to get their attention.

"Stop, Hange!" he calls out for what must be the tenth time, his eyes focused on the mush they've turned the man's abdominal skin into.

They release the button and take a tiny step back, turning halfway to stare at Levi with a frown and the scariest, most manic glint he's ever seen in their eyes -not helped by the fresh bood that's splattered all over their face.

"What? Come on Levi, don't tell me you're getting squeamish," they scold, sounding as angry as they do disappointed. "This guy murdered Nick, for fuck's sake, made him got through much more extensive torture than this before he-

"I know," Levi cuts in, sparing a glare to the pathetic human lump in front of them who's slumping in his seat wih his head bowed down, "I know. But don't you think you'll fuck that thing up by wetting it in all this blood?"

He's seen the way Hange practically drooled over this unique piece of technology they found while looking through MP arsenal a while back and he's had to listen to enough rants about its uses and misuses to know they've grown overly -and disturbingly, though not uncharacteristically- attached to it. And even if he doesn't much care for it himself, he's aware Hange's been meaning to study its applicability in the fight against Titans, and he definitely wouldn't want them to waste their only sample over this sorry specimen.

"Oh, but I won't!" they reassure him quickly, their foul mood seemingly gone in an instant. "This type of taser is top quality, you know, one of the most resistant from what I've read in that forbidden weaponry book you got me for my birthday. No, in fact I was wondering if electricity wouldn't conduct even better through blood, since it's mostly water! Tell me, Sannes, does the pain feel worse here," Hange asks as they apply it a short second onto healthy skin, "or here?" and then into the wound again.

Sannes only groans this time around, clenching his teeth and biting his tongue with the forced muscle contractions.

"I'm not your lab rat," he pants when he can speak again.

Hange sighs, straightening their back and legs as they tower over him. They stretch their arms high above their head, and Levi can't stop a snicker from showing on his face when he realizes what their next move is -and he hopes this doesn't give their prisoner any clue.

Thankfully, all it does is direct Sannes' attention to him in the form of a pointless glare, and makes him completely miss the cue when Hange lets one of their arms fall down swiftly, their full palm landing harshly against his cheek, slapping his face so hard his neck muscles allow for an unnatural angle between his head and body for a fraction of a moment before it lols back into place.

"You are whatever I want you to be right now," they purr, voice so low and dangerous it sends a not entirely unpleasant shiver down Levi's spine. "I'll do it again, so focus this time around."

"No need! The second, the second one was worse," Sannes gives in hurriedly, uselessly fighting against his restrains and just as Hange's taser was about to touch his cut flesh again.

"Hm, is that so?" Hange mumbles, retreating their threatening hand and petting his hair like they would their horse's with the other. "But that could be simple nociceptive pain from the wound itself, and not the neuropathic-like jolt of electricity... Let me clarify, because as a high ranking useless MP officer, I fear you may not be the sharpest tooth in the Titan's mooth," they add, giggling madly at their own joke. "Do you think the pain was more intense from the pressure I applied on those slashed guts of yours, or did the taser hit itself really feel more powerful there?"

"Wall's sake," Sannes snarls as he frees his head from their lose hold, clearly reinvigorated by the insult to his ego, "just stop talking, would you? That ought to be the worst torture you're putting me through right now."

He spits on the ground as he finishes his sentence, missing Hange's boots by a breath thanks to their quick jump aside, and grins up at them.

Hange hums quietly while Levi clicks his tongue at that silly mistake, and before Sannes sees it coming they leap forward, their right, taser-holding hand ahead of them while their left one supports their weight on the wooden back of the chair as they pull the trigger.

Sannes' eyes widen and he lets out a long, pathetic wail as the electricity surges into his groin and throughout his body at full force, and Hange's laugh echoes almost as loud.

"If you really think that's the worst part," they warn when his voice breaks, "boy do you have another thing coming."

They sound confident enough and Levi's pretty sure Sannes is fooled by that front -if he's conscious enough to hear them, that is, and the way his eyes keep rolling in his skull make Levi doubt it for a second- but he's known Hange for a long, long time, and he knows how shaken their friend's death and all the recent events have left them. Which is why he fears they're about to lose it, especially when he sees the way their hand shakes as they bring the taser up and against his ribcage.

"Don't!" Levi warns.

He grabs their wrist and swirls their body around, and Hange was so out of it it takes them a couple of seconds to speak again.

"What?" they ask once they're face to face, eyebrows knit in confusion.

"Focus, shitty glasses," he whispers. "He could die right away if you do that."

Hange blinks a few times, processing his words.

And then a shy, almost embarrassed smile graces their lips.

"You listened," they realize, eyes lighting up with excitement and something else he's seen in there before but could never properly identify. "When I told you my hypothesis about how direct precordial tasing stimulation might kill someone because it would bypass the heart's natural impulse," they add, putting the taser down on the table and bringung their hand flat against his chest, right above his accelerating heartbeat, "you listened."

He only realizes how close they are standing and how intimate that gesture was when he feels them inhale sharply and when their own free hand timidly cups his forearm, keeping his hand in place against their cheek.

"I always listen to you, four-eyes. You don't give me much of a choice anyway," Levi replies with a shake of his head, one of his hand reflexively coming up to swipe at the blood stains on their face.

Their eyes meet his, the gorgeous dark brown of their irises a thin circle around the black of their blown out pupils. And Levi gets an idea.

An insane idea, one he's had before but never induldged into outside his own bed or shower, never dared to dwell on when Hange and their stupidly full lips were around to tempt him to act on it. One he should definitely not entertain right now, he tells himself.

Except he's not the one dangerously leaning in.

"Guess you were right. Watching a deranged freak like you make out with her assistant is definitely worse than that shit from before," Sannes taunts once more.

He's almost proud of himself when he spots the awed look on Hange's face as they take in the tooth on the floor, the bloodied drool at the corner of Sannes' mouth and the nearly exact same position Levi's standing in right now, like his right foot wasn't in that bastard's face not a flash of a second ago.

Levi doesn't need to think about it.

He automatically, gently but swiftly pushes Hange away, so there's nothing standing between him and Sannes before he makes his move.

"What?" he asks as nonchalantly as he can, shrugging. "He was being rude."

It hurts, the clash of their teeth against his and the way their glasses poke at his nose, the leather digging into his nape with the force they're using to keep him in place and their feet that lands on his own as they find their balance after their launched themself forward. It's a hurt he welcomes though, a pain that connects him to this world that's getting more and more fucked up every day, something real and loud and impossible to ignore.

Hange beams at him.

And then they grab the thin straps of his apron, tugging on them hard and crashing their lips against his.

Hange's gone before he gets a chance to properly respond, and if it wasn't for the loud pop that rings as they release his lower lip, Levi would think he's made up that unbelievable moment where they sucked on it.

"You have to teach me that flying tooth kicking technique some day, shorty," they say with a smirk as they let go of him, "it's way too hot for you to keep it to yourself."

They turn around again, facing the slobbering, wincing in disgust but finally quiet mess that's become of Sannes.

"Sure. There are so many things that are wrong with you, four eyes," Levi says to the tiny hairs sticking out at the back of their long neck, trying not to wonder how they would have felt under his palm if he'd had the time to touch them.

"Thank you," they reply, head turning to give him a wink. "In the mean time, I guess I'll just have to stick to the old fashioned teeth removal tools!" they add excitedly, picking up pliers from the table.

Levi hides in a smile, and gets closer to the chair to hold a now struggling Sannes' face in place as Hange forces his mouth open.

#levihan drabble #levihan #levihan fanfic #snk #snk fanfic #shingeki no kyojin #this is too long to be a drabble isn't it #i got carried away...#levi ackerman #hange zoë #my stuff #asks #mutuals #dont f with moogles

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ririspace · 3 years

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tysm for taking requests!! do you think you could write something with fem reader and clingy/cuddly gi-hun?? Much love!! ❤️

your welcome!and yes of course :D i hope you dont mind making this to a husband version :d

CLINGY AND CUDDLY HUSBAND AU! GI-HUN X FEM!READER <3

warnings:written in lowercase,the game doesn't exist,husband!au,fluff

tags!: @xyinparadise @maximumcoffeeme @gay-mother-figure @jeonselca @snixx2088 @passionkillerphil

6:13pm:you finally shut down your laptop and reorganize your paperworks.another day of work sure is tiring.all you want to do now is just to lay in bed and snuggle with gi-hun all day…

you clocked out of your shift and proceeds to shut off the lights as you were the last person to leave the building.just when you were about to leave,there you saw a 6’0 tall man wearing a navy baseball cap waiting for your presence.”hi darling,hows work?”gi-hun asked as he waved at you.“it was fine!.i manage to finish this week’s work last minute,so i wont be that busy during the weekend”you replied as you walk towards him,smiling.

both you and gi-hun would walk home together atleast 2 times a week,since its the only time where you guys can spend some time together during the weekdays.

you guys usually stops by a shop to buy light snacks and some groceries,but gi-hun noticed you seem tired than usual,and insisted to do the groceries tomorrow.

“y/n are you alright?you look like youre about to pass out,”gi-hun asked,concerned.you denied it,but he knows youre telling obvious white lies. “h-HEY PUT ME DOWN!PEOPLE ARE GOING TO SEE US!!?,”you panicked as he carries you in a bridal style. “this reminds me of our wedding,i cant’t believe youre still flustered if i carry you like this!and i dont mind people seeing us being lovey-dovey,im just showing off my wif-“ his words were cut off as you both fell on the ground.he couldn’t kept his balance resulting in your dress being covered in dirt.

“honey,i just bought this dress using my own money and now it’s covered in dirt.who’s going to pay for it?”you bellowed.

“shit”he said under his breath.

“l-lets get you home!i’ll get the warm bath ready i promise please dont get mad!”pouted gi-hun.

oh,how could you resist his puppy eyes. “fine,take me home faster then,”you sighed in defeat.gi-hun eyes lighten up. “giddy-up then,y/n!!,”as he carries you in a piggyback style.he may be childish but you love him for it,thats what makes gi-hun well,gi-hun.

you and gi-hun finally arrive home after all the mess.you did enjoyed getting piggy rides,so you didnt complain much.you sat on the couch while scrolling through your phone as he get the bath ready.

“the bath is ready,babe.come in”

“wow gi-hun..i didnt expect you to do..these!”you said elated,pointing out at the rose petals and candles.gi-hun can be romantic sometimes too,huh?

”c’mon,dont keep me waiting in here..”gi-hun pouted as he play with the water.

without wasting time,you put your phone down,undressed and submerged yourself into the luke warm water.a relaxing bath sure does it magic after a tiring day.you can feel his warmth as gi-hun massages your back.its the little thing you both do everyday that makes it special.

“gi-hun,do you want me to wash your hair this time?,”you suggested. “thank you,honey,”replied gi-hun.he’s blessed to have a loving wife like you.the whole bath wasnt anything explicit nor erotic,it was just the both of you bathing together,blowing bubbles and rant about your day.

after drying yourselves,you both went straight to bed,too tired to do anything else.suddenly,gi-hun’s gaze shifted to you, “youre not mad anymore about your dress right?i will get you a new one once my salary comes in,i promise!,”he exclaimed.you then shifted your position to him, “its fine,i can always laundry it to wash the stains off,im not mad at you,alright?”,you comforted him.dang,maybe your tone was too harsh back then,youre hoping he will understand that you didnt fully mean it. “y/n,i will never get mad at you,okay?im sorry again about you dress,”he apologized. “awhh c’mon gi-hun,you know i myself couldnt bring myself to be mad at you..”you murmured.

“hah!i knew it,”the man chuckled.he then snuggle up against you,starting from your neck and ending up chest to chest with you,your heartbeat slowly catching up to his.he grab your hand and intertwined your fingers with his.your lips met at the slightest touch,then slowly parting away.gi-hun kissed your forehead and slowly caressed your face.

“goodnight sweetheart,rest well.i love you and forever will.”

“i love you too”

#seong gi hun #gi hun headcanons #gi hun x reader #seong gi hun x reader #gi hun squid game #squid game x you #squid game headcanons #squid game husband!au #squid game x reader #husband gi hun

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fandom-puff · 4 years

Text

Idiots Like Lockhart

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Requested by: anon (mix of two requests as they were VERY similar)

Summary: Lockhart’s shameless flirting is getting to you.

AN: so the first of the kinktober fics is queued up! Things are getting busy w school (and I also recently got animal crossing new horizons and Tom Nook do be keeping me in debt) so things may be slow or erratic in terms of uploads.

Warning: unwanted flirting

“Good morning, YN!”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you plastered a strained smile on your face as you turned to your colleague.

“Morning, Gilderoy,” you said politely, before turning back to your porridge. You didn’t need to look to your other side to know that Severus was tensing up.

“I trust you got my owl?”

Sighing, you set your spoon down. “I did, Gilderoy. The answer is still no, no matter how many autographed pictures you put in the envelope. I’m not going to the Three Broomsticks with you,” with a huff, you abandoned your breakfast and made your way to your classroom, really not in the mood for Lockhart’s pathetic flirting today. If Severus would just come out and say that you were together, you wouldn’t have this issue. Everyone on the staff already knew you had been a couple for two years now, so you didn’t see the point in hiding it from Lockhart. Perhaps Severus merely wanted to wait for the right opportunity (he was a bit of a drama queen with his sweeping black robes and low drawling voice) but still.

In an increasingly foul mood, you groaned when you spotted a lilac envelope on your desk, your name written in swirly purple handwriting. Pursing your lips, you swept it aside, soon letting your first class in. The lesson went without a hitch until a giggling group of third year girls saw your envelope.

“Oooo, is that from Professor Lockhart?” One girl asked, her friends squealing slightly when you nodded. “Oh! Open it professor! I bet he fancies you! Imagine that, a real life celebrity sending our teacher love notes!”

You sighed and kept a level head. “Miss Beckett, my correspondence with my colleagues is none of your concern, do remember that,” you said, gently but firmly, before holding up the note. You read it quickly to yourself and rolled your eyes, before tapping it smartly with your wand and muttering ‘incendio’. Several of the girls gasped as the pretty paper burst into flames, but a few of the boys grinned.

You swept the ashes into your waste paper bin, before turning to the chalkboard, the chalk magically beginning to write as you explained the basics of the new topic you were covering with your class. All was going fine until there was a burst of knocking on your door. You flicked your wand at it to open it, half expecting a student on a message from another professor.

Instead, you were met with the sight of someone who was quickly moving up your list of least favourite people. “Professor Lockhart,” you said through gritted teeth. “Is there a problem? Surely not another one of your practical lessons have descended into chaos? I’d expect better from such an... accomplished wizard,” your backhanded comment did not go unnoticed- someone muttered from the back of the class ‘I thought that vampire seemed a bit stupid!’

Lockhart’s boyish grin fell slightly, but he stepped into the room. “YN-”

“Professor YLN, if you don’t mind,” you said cooly, turning back to your chalkboard. There was a snort of laughter from the left of the room which was quickly covered up by a fake cough. “Now, class, it’s a common misconception that the-”

“YN, please, just listen to me! I understand your worries, but a little drink at the three broomsticks will do no harm. We won’t get hounded by paparazzi, darling. If you’re that worried about a public scandal, I can put a concealment charm on you,” he said, smirking as he winked at a few of the students. His arrogance caused anger to finally flare up inside you. The chalk clattered to the floor as your focus was torn away from teaching.

“Professor Lockhart, I suggest you leave my classroom this instant before I hex you into next month,” you said, eyes flashing with rage. “And for the record, I would never go anywhere with an arrogant, self-centred, immature fool like you, no matter how many pathetic love notes and inappropriate interruptions to my lessons you make. As a matter of fact, I’ll be reporting the harassment to Professor Dumbledore, so tread very carefully, Gilderoy, or so help me god,” you glared at him, your wand clutched tightly in your hand. “Now get out and leave my class in peace. We have important content to learn,” you had slowly been backing him out of the room and slammed the door in his face, before storming back to your desk. “Books out. Answer the questions on the board,” you instructed your class.

“That was brilliant, Professor!” Someone commented and you couldn’t help the small smile that twitched on your lips.

“Thank you, Benjamin,” you said bashfully, before burying yourself in your work. You dismissed the class when the bell went, and sighed. You wanted nothing more than to curl up with Severus, but you still had a few more classes to teach.

***

Later that day, you and the majority of the staff were sat around in the staff room, drinking tea and chatting, although you kept to yourself. Most had heard about your rant at Lockhart, but you still hadn’t seen Severus- what if he was angry? What if all this was simply too much for him?

When he swept into the room with Lockhart on his coat tails, jabbering on about a duelling club, you tossed your book aside. Without really thinking, you flung yourself into sev’s arms, burying your face in his neck. Minerva and Albus smiled at one another, knowing how much comfort you sought in each other’s arms as Severus rubbed your back, frowning. “Are you alright, my love?” He murmured, kissing your temple.

“Much better now I’m with you,” you replied, pulling back and pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. Without another word, you walked back to your shared chambers in the dungeons as you explained what had you so tense that day.

Lockhart was left gaping, his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out, rather like a goldfish. “She... what... HIM?” He said incredulously looking around the staffroom.

“Oh yes,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “Severus and YN... such a strong love they have for one another...” he hummed, popping a sherbet lemon into his mouth and looking off dreamily.

“You’re very welcome to place your bet, Gilderoy,” said Professor Sprout grinning. “So far ive got 10 galleons on it happening by easter, Filius bets 15 by Valentines Day, and we’ve got Minerva betting 50 by the New Year half term! Should I put you in the book?”

“Betting? What for?” Lockhart demanded.

“On when Severus will propose to YN,” Flitwick said brightly.

“Speaking of which, Pomona, I want to change my bet to October half term. Something tells me Severus isn’t likely to leave it any longer...”

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @justanotherwildstar @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @darkthought15 @strawberriesonsummer @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively @talksoprettyjjx @extra-trash77 @rangerelik @dracosbbygorl @simonsbluee

#severus snape x y/n #severus snape headcanons #severus snape fluff #severus snape x reader #severus snape imagine #severus snape #lockhart #gilderoy lockhart #harry potter #hp #imagine #request #harry potter imagine #fluff

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shotorozu · 4 years

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Hi! I saw your requests are open and decided to take the chance lol, hc for todoroki and kaminari having a fem! s/o that’s tiktok famous, they don’t know this but once they saw their s/o doing a tiktok and standing at the back all of the sudden the s/o’s fans simps for them now and wants to see them often on their videos. Idk if that makes sense but it’s all up to you if you want to change it! No rush take your time and stay safe!

they appear in a tiktok

characters : kaminari denki, todoroki shouto

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns (gender neutral), quirk not specific

fic type : headcanons [crack, fluff]

notes : i did something similar to this where s/o was basically a pro hero’s daughter, and she accidentally goes viral bc of that. i’ll tag it later :))

≿————-　❈　————-≾

kaminari denki

probably knows you’re famous anyway, mans on tiktok consistently. (if not everyday)

and he’s well aware that people simp on you, which denki can’t really blame because have they seen you?

he’s kinda jealous though, but we won’t dwell on that right now!

has to constantly resist the urge to comment on all of your videos, but he knows you hate spam comments lol

because of UA, you’ve been posting less frequently— only once per week instead of everyday

y’all know the rake it up dance? [dc: makhamidd]

you were filming a tiktok doing that dance, while using minimum energy at the beginning.

denki immediately walks in your room in THAT part, (it makes sense if you watch it)

he’s like “bae- this energy though 😳” it’s kinda hot

anyways, he’s hyping you up in the background— and you can tell he’s watching you

so after you end the video, you pull him into a tight ass hug— teasing him about the fact that he was watching you.

fastforward! you post the video moments after you finished cuddling denki, and you leave the video alone to let it sink in.

you check back on the tiktok, and suddenly it has around 700k likes

woah that’s a lot,, especially since it’s been just a few minutes.

and the comments ranged from “they popped OFF in the middle of the dance”, “pain. just— real pain.” and “is your boyfriend single?”

okay so the thing with you and denki is that— you didn’t really wanna include denki in your videos

because a. if you guys break up, how will you tell your followers??

and b. the simps will be mad.

anyways, you’re baffled!

“denki, you’re famous. people wanna see you more!”

and he’s like 😎 woah, i’m famous now.

you’re a little jealous of the comments of girls hitting on your man, but you know denki could care less about them.

but you decide to be civil, and include denki in your videos more often :) to satisfy your followers.

your account radiates more vine energy because of him.

todoroki shouto

y’all know the daily screams? the ones from spencewuah— i love those (see one here)

you’re famous for being hot as fuck, and also ranting angry at the camera in this world (and a few casual things like dances and other things here and there)

todoroki does not have tiktok, i mean.. what’s he gonna tell endeavor when he’s like

🔥👄🔥 “what are you laughing at, shouto?” BANDNSN

anyways, he doesn’t discover your account— but, he knows you’re quite famous on tiktok (but he’s not sure what you’re famous for.)

anyways, you’re screaming at the camera right? ranting about something stupid that happened today

and your boyfriend walks into you screaming, and he’s just in the background like 🧍

you see him, and you’re like

😺 “—how are you, shou?”

and shouto’s like,, “love, are you okay? why are you screaming?”

you laugh and end the video— and say it’s something you do on tiktok.

the both of you think nothing of it, as you both spend time with each other for the remainder of the day

you upload the video after shouto leaves, and your video blows up— like.. a lot more than 700k likes this time.

the comments are either

“are we gonna talk about the voice change? they went 👹➡️✨”

“is that ENDEAVOR’S SON?? wtf”

“is your boyfriend single?”

“pain.”

you were expecting this to happen, your followers liking your boyfriend a lot more than you,

and you’d see how they’d comment flirtatious things about shouto (it’s lowkey making you uncomfortable)

you casually bring up about how shouto’s famous on tiktok, and he’s like

“oh?? you’re a lot more famous though, love.”

“you don’t get it shou, they’re SIMPING for you— be proud!”

and he’s like,, so confused. why should i be proud?? i literally have you

“but i have you, love. why do i need their compliments?”

“shouto, you’re too kind.” you swoon, pecking a kiss on his lips briefly

does shouto appear on your tiktoks more? a little bit more— but not constantly :) bc shouto is only YOURS

≿————-　❈　————-≾

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing.

do not plagiarize my work :))

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wrathandgreed · 4 years

Note

(I hope requests are still open) So ive been thinking. How about the brothers reaction to MC taking a large step away from them when ever one of them raises their hand up. It could be as simple as a high five. MC used to be in a abusive relationship and is paranoid about getting hit

Note: (For the record, I don’t know if you sent me this on purpose - I’ve never done requests; I’ve literally just put out my very first OM headcanons. But I figured I could try. I’ve never been in an abusive relationship, but a number of my friends have. I really hope I can do this one respect - if anything about this is not on the level, please let me know! Also, if I missed a trigger warning in the tags, or tagged this wrong, let me know. Also, for the record, I tend to like soft!Brothers and I really wanted them to try and be better - not put the onus on MC to “get over it” or anything.)

Second note: After writing this, I’m not sure that most of these guys would be a good choice for an abuse survivor!

Third note: I am NOT good at keeping things short and, as usual, I went overboard with Asmodeus. Like, it should be its own fic at this point. But write what you want to read, right?

Warnings: references to domestic abuse, both physical and verbal. References to suicide baiting. Uncensored swearing.

~5K words

Lucifer

A strange choice; his perfectionism and exacting behavior sometimes make you remember how it was back in the human world; everything had to be JUST SO….or else.

And he’s threatened to kill you. Twice.

But there’s something inherently decent about him - and you live for the rare moments he laughs.

His perfectionism usually isn’t even about you, so you just kind of….ignore it.

You’re doing some of your RAD homework in Lucifer’s study.

It’s quiet there.

And, while he won’t do the work for you, he’ll definitely help when you’re stuck.

Also you can give him tea and soothing when he (inevitably) gets upset at his paperwork - Mammon’s bills, Asmo’s bills, Satan’s bills (hey, dark magic books are expensive).

You start hearing the shifting and muttering that herald the beginning of the rant.

You gather the tea and walk towards his desk.

“Devil’s sake!” Lucifer suddenly snaps out, slamming hand on his desk as he reads yet another ridiculous piece of paper.

It’s not at you, the anger isn’t at you, you KNOW it’s not at you, but you freeze anyway.

Slammed hands on desks, punched holes in walls, hands on you, always hands -

The cup of tea hits the floor and you’re out of the room before Lucifer can even look up.

He’s seen it all in your paperwork - the police reports, the restraining order, the lists of injuries - so he puts it all together before his study door closes behind you.

He knows better than to go after you immediately. You’ll want some solitude, some quiet on your own, to steady yourself a little.

If he goes after you now, it might frighten you more. Looks like hunting.

You need to know he’s calm, that he’s not acting or reacting out of emotion.

He takes his time cleaning up the spilled tea, straightening his papers.

When he shows up at your room, he has a mug of hot chocolate.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything. You made a mess in his study, and he’s such a stickler for everything being neat. He was angry before, but he’ll be even more angry now.

“No, I’m sorry,” he returns, and offers you the chocolate.

(You blink once. Has the Avatar of Pride ever apologized before? If so, it was never in your hearing.)

The two of you talk quietly for a time. He insists that you don’t need to apologize - ever. He insists that, while he appreciates the tea-and-break routine, it’s 100% not your responsibility to control his anger. It’s his. He says that his anger isn’t good for him anyway (just look at Satan) and he needs to take a break when that hot feeling starts.

Maybe he should start scheduling breaks; setting timers on his D.D.D. so that he no longer works long enough at once to let it all get to him.

He doesn’t want you afraid of him.

Mammon

Mammon is pretty much the only demon who HASN’T threatened your life. He often sounds irritated, but he’s never even sounded angry at you.

If anything, he’s a mush and an abuse victim himself. So he gets where you’re coming from, and tries really hard.

So you shouldn’t be afraid of him.

But….he moves too quickly. He’s constantly jumping from one idea to another, one topic to another, one emotion to another. And that’s just emotionally.

You can’t trust where his hands will be. Ever. And that’s not a sex thing.

Sometimes, his protection of you makes you feel safe. If anyone hurts you, Mammon will hurt them a thousand times worse.

He’s funny, and his hands on you are gentle, and once you tell him about your past, he tries really hard not to go back to his “stupid human” habit, because it hurts your feelings.

But sometimes, his protection feels like obsession. Why were you talking to that guy? C’mere, you’re MY human.

Then, inevitably, the tug on your hand or arm or waist, pulling you closer.

It starts simply enough.

You’re playing video games in his room. He’s not as much of a gamer as Levi, but he enjoys them.

Especially ones where you can be competitive or drive cars really fast.

He’s been getting more and more excited, coiled like a spring. And it’s from enjoyment, not anger, but that level of energy, in your experience, explodes at some point.

You get quieter, but that only makes him more boisterous. He wants you to join in the fun! C’mon MC, did you see that?! It was awesome!

After a really impressive win, he shouts in triumph and suddenly his hand is in front of your face for a high-five.

You recoil and hit the floor, crab-crawling backwards before you can stop yourself.

His look of complete confusion, in different circumstances, might be funny. He actually looks at his hand like he doesn’t recognize it.

He drops to the floor too, “Babe? What’s wrong? Y’okay?” And he reaches out a hand towards you.

When you flinch, he gets it.

He sits on the floor, stuttering out apologies, not even finishing one sentence before starting another. He makes sure he’s cross-legged, leaning back on his hands - non threatening, leaning away, hands not hidden, but not prominent, and in a position it would take him time to move from.

When you start crying, he can’t maintain that pose and crawls towards you, pulling you into a hug.

If you resist, you know he’ll let you go. And that’s why you just curl into him instead, crying out on his shoulder while he holds you close - but not tightly.

“I jus’ need ya to talk to me….let me know if I’m gettin’ to be too much. I know I’m loud. Just….. jus’ remind me, I’ll never be mad.”

Leviathan

Boy already has anger problems.

Envy’s kind of prone to it, you know?

On the one hand, he literally attacked you over a piece of TSL memorabilia.

On the other, he’s generally harmless the rest of the time.

He’s meek and shy and terrified of touching you - so, 95% of the time, you feel super safe with him.

When you wake with a nightmare, when something jump-starts your fear response, he talks you through it, easily abandoning whatever game or anime he’s involved in.

He’ll only touch you when you ask, or when you reach for him first.

But then there’s the MMOs.

You know you should leave when he starts getting mad. Not in a victim-blame sense, but for your own mental health it’s probably not a good idea to be around him when he raids.

He ALWAYS gets mad.

You’re sitting in his room, so involved in your handheld that you forget it’s his raiding night.

(Usually you make study plans with Satan, or shopping plans with Asmo on his raiding nights. You don’t want him to give them up; he enjoys them, but it’s not good for you to be around.)

After finally completing a tough level, you pop your headphones off just in time to hear Levi swear loudly.

You go still as a string of swear-filled trash talk fills the room. Things you’d never expect shy, needy Levi to say.

You know it really is just trash-talk - the threats of violence are just too absurd. Rip off their arms and use their own fingers to bowl their skull like a bowling ball? Really?

Also this is LEVI. Levi? The demon who needed you to taunt Mammon about his credit card because he couldn’t do it himself? He might be Admiral of Hell’s Navy and all, but he’s not exactly threatening.

You get to your feet, a little shaken but ready to just walk out of the room. It’s raid night, and this is why you don’t hang out on raid nights. You’re not comfortable around other people’s anger.

You’re halfway across the room when Levi suddenly shouts in frustration and throws his controller on the floor.

And you’re out the door.

Levi just glimpses you as he’s reaching to pick up his miraculously-unshattered controller from the floor.

“Henry?” He calls out, just a second too late.

With only one moment of hesitation, he logs out of his raid and goes to follow you.

You had less than ten seconds head start, but it takes him almost twenty minutes to find you, sitting out in the garden, gazing at nothing.

“MC?” He calls quietly. He doesn’t want to sneak up on you.

A single blink, and the tiniest flash of fear - he left his game to follow you.

Calculation: extreme concern - or extreme anger.

Conclusion: Undetermined.

So you wait.

“Are you ok?”

Okay, so not mad. “Aren’t you raiding?” You ask, instead of answering. You’re not ok, but you’re also not in the mood to talk about it.

“I, uh, h-had a, uh, power outage?” Even he doesn’t sound convinced, and you snort. Levi only has three modes: simple, stuttering, and verbose. Thankfully he goes with simple. “You ran out. I was worried.”

You debate brushing his concern off, but he deserves better than that.

“I’m not good with anger. Even if it’s not directed at me.”

“Oh.” Levi pauses as he considers. He knows the basics of what’s happened. “I - I mean, I could, you know, NOT - “

“No,” you say quickly and lean in to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to change anything. Do your raids, make stupid threats to stupid players. Just….warn me to leave first?”

Levi nods, but he skips the rest of his raid to stargaze with you in the garden, arms wrapped around you from behind as he points out different Devildom stars and constellations to you. You get a lecture on how Devildom stars are used in Devildom sailing. It’s actually kind of interesting.

Satan

Okay, seriously? The Avatar of Wrath? Author speaking here, I literally can’t picture a worse combination than an MC who’s still recovering from domestic abuse to date the AVATAR OF WRATH.

Like, yeah, he has good control over himself, but he also loses his temper in a moment’s notice.

He has CANONICALLY tortured people for calling him strange.

He flips out with no warning and destroys parts of the house and his brothers just let him do it because he’s too powerful to control when he rages.

I can absolutely see MC falling for the quiet intelligence, the consideration, and so forth, but witnessing one (1) single rage should be enough to tell them that this relationship won’t be good for their mental health.

Let’s not even talk about the (again, canonical) desire for domination, power play, pet play, etc, that kind of defines our boy.

I mean, I love Satan. Out of all the bros, he’s the only one I could imagine legit dating in real life.

But I’m a little ball of rage myself, and I have no problem with anger, mine or anyone else’s.

And the fandom (including me) can totally play cute and love on their “soft little angy boi” all they want, and he definitely has soft, sensitive sides, and I may actively choose to ignore the whole domination/power play/etc when I fic or headcanon because I really love soft!Satan….. but he’s not.

I can’t even make a headcanon, because I cannot picture a situation in which this is actually GOOD for MC.

Because no matter how hard he’ll try and control it, and how much his rage probably won’t be directed at them, I just keep picturing “It won’t happen again” except it will, and it’ll just wind up being flashbacks to the number of times “It won’t happen again” ended in black eyes or an ER visit back in the human world.

And MC walking on eggshells for eternity to avoid setting him off, and how is that healthy?

Asmodeus

Another decent choice for MC, at least on the surface.

King of consent over here, at least how I picture him. Especially for someone he cares about.

Always accepts “no” about literally anything. Don’t want sex? We’ll cuddle. Cuddling a little confining? Holding hands is cool. Really don’t want to be touched at all right now? Gossip and tea!

You were coming to really care about the Avatar of Lust, and you believed what Simeon said about him - how much he desperately needed love and affection. You got it; you needed some, too.

I mean, even if he’d been a bit of a jerk, he’d warmed up significantly since the pact, so new that it still burned on your skin, was formed.

But even Asmodeus wasn’t without faults. However much he focuses on love, he can sometimes, really be….mean.

You’re standing on a balcony in Diavolo’s castle, having escaped for a few moments.

He’d always been catty, gossipy, filled with drama, but the genuine affection and likability of him sometimes made you ignore it.

His constant mocking of Luke you could put down to the whole angel/demon conflict.

His occasional snapping or poking at his brothers you could put down to being stuck in the same house with the same people for literal eons.

The only thing that might make up for your awful existence is if you just ended it.

The words haunt you as you stand looking up at Devildom’s endless nighttime.

How many times did you hear similar words yourself? How useless you were, how much of a burden, no way you’d survive on your own without him, and he didn’t even want you that much. Why didn’t you just go kill yourself?

Dammit, you think to yourself as Asmo steps out on to the balcony.

“Darling! Why are you out here all alone? Or are you waiting for some company?”

When he goes to put his arms around you, you just say “no.” Simply, quietly, emotionlessly.

Asmo circles around to look at you. “Something wrong, sweetness?”

You take a breath. Another. You consider swallowing it, again, don’t want to start a fight. Back down, put on a smile, ignore it.

But realize you can’t. You spent years dealing with this crap, and you’re not going to do it again.

“You’re mean, Azzy.” Your voice is quieter than you expected. You look up into the demon’s eyes. To his credit, he looks deeply confused and, as you take a step away from him, hurt. Before he can open his mouth, you continue, “How could you say that to Mammon?”

“Are you defending MAMMON?” He asks, torn between incredulity and anger.

“Right now? Yes. But also Luke, Lucifer, and everyone else you talk shit to. Or about. He’s your brother. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to hear that out of someone you love?”

Dismissively, “Oh, if it actually bothered him, he’d - “

“What? Beat you up? That’s not like him. So he takes it. And takes it, and takes it, until, because it’s all he hears, he believes it. And then why fight back? Why defend yourself, if you’re such a piece of shit? You deserve it, after all, right?”

You don’t even realize it, but you’re crying by this point. And you’re mad. All the mad you couldn’t fling at your abuser before is filling you now. You don’t even know if you’re talking about Mammon or yourself anymore. Maybe both of you.

“And even though he’s beaten down, you keep going. When he won’t respond to the usual anymore, when that doesn’t seem to hurt him, rile him up, you go worse. You told your brother, who you claim to love, to kill himself. We’re barely even friends. So what happens when I annoy you? Should I just go die now, save you the trouble of telling me to do it later?”

You step right up to him, into his personal space, almost nose to nose, and stare directly into his red-yellow eyes. “Is this who you are, Asmodeus?”

Asmo has gone from defensive; incredulous and angry, to baffled, hurt and worried in just a few minutes. But at your last, pointed question, he jerks his head back as though you slapped him. Not knowing what to say or do, he reaches for you again, but you dodge his hand and brush past him back into the castle.

You get Solomon, the only one who won’t ask questions, to switch rooms with you. (Luke is thrilled; teaching him to play gin rummy actually cheers you up a little.)

For a few weeks, you and Asmodeus pass each other in the House without speaking. Then, one evening, there’s a knock on your door and Asmo slides into your room.

He looks….well, not awful; he could never look awful. But the glow is gone from his skin and, unless you’re mistaken, he hasn’t bothered doing his hair. He looks like he’s missed some sleep.

You look up from your homework and watch him. Silently. It’s not your job to fill the silence anymore.

More than most of them, Asmo despises being vulnerable. But it’s fix this or not, and the pact is pushing him to be on good terms. At least, he blames the pact. It’s easier than acknowledging how much the weeks of silence have worn on him. How awful it was watching you walk to class with Mammon instead of him.

And no matter what, he values honesty in his relationships, no matter what kind of relationship. So he would be honest.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly.

Lean back in your chair, hands folded. Waiting.

“I don’t know….if that’s who I am. Maybe it is.”

“Why are you here, Asmo? What do you want?”

“I want you to stop ignoring me!”

Steady face. “I spent too many years having someone talk to me the way you spoke to your brother. The rest of it - the gossip, the side comments, the cattiness…. it’s not your best side. In fact, it’s pretty unattractive when it’s mean, but I could handle it. But I can’t handle cruelty. I don’t want to be around it anymore.”

A pause. “What is my best side then?”

Disgusted, you chuck a pen in his direction. “Fuck’s sake, Asmo. Get out.”

“No! Not, not that. If that’s my bad side, the **unattractive** part, then what’s the other half?”

You search his face, but he doesn’t seem to be fishing for compliments. If anything, he looks….lost. Confused. And you wonder if anyone’s ever said anything to him, good or bad, about who he was; not what he looked like or how he fucked.

It’s not your responsibility to psychoanalyze a demon, you think to yourself. But you’re not someone to walk away. You wonder how it’s possible for someone to be thousands of years old, and know less about themselves than you know about yourself in just a few decades. And you have nothing to lose by being kind.

“You can be wonderfully kind, Asmo, and generous. You want to see the beauty in everyone and everything. As nasty as you can be with it, I’ll give you points for honesty. You connect with people, and the times you’re actually genuinely interested in them is….charming.”

He’s silent for a few minutes. Then he nods, as if he’s made a decision. “Okay. Tomorrow, after RAD, do you want to go for bubble tea?” At your confusion, he just smiles and continues, “It’s like skin care, isn’t it? Attractiveness requires effort, darling, until it becomes habit. If I want to be attractive inside as well as out, I’ll have to practice the good things, so they outweigh the bad. I can’t do that alone. I need a practice partner who won’t tolerate failure, right? At least until it’s habit.”

You feel your entire brain have to reboot before you can give a coherent response.

“Tomorrow. One hour. I have papers due.” You wait until he leaves your room before you smile.

Beelzebub

Probably the best choice for this MC.

The most emotionally intelligent of his brothers.

Also the most sincerely kind and gentle.

But also, like Satan, prone to sudden outbursts and rages. They’re all food-related (or, rather, lack-of-food-related), but they’re there.

A smart MC always carries snacks while dating Beel. Phone, wallet, keys, fried bat wings.

Strangely, though, the food-induced rages don’t really bother you. It’s not anger, really, and it’s never once been directed at you. And, unlike back in the human world, there’s a concrete way to help: feed him.

Today you have a whole backpack full of snacks.

You’re with Belphie, watching one of Beel’s games at RAD.

(You’re not sure Belphie wants to be there, but you’re not allowed out alone, and Belphie decided to take you - keep you safe and support his brother. Two birds, one Belphie.)

Belphie tends to nap against your shoulder any time the ref goes to make a call, but he’s somehow always awake to clap for his brother.

(You stand on your chair and cheer, but that’s you.)

The game is a close one; double overtime. Even Belphie is too tense to sleep towards the end.

And at the end of double overtime, Beel manages the single extra goal that results in victory.

You cheer yourself hoarse for your demon boyfriend.

The whole stadium is crazy, so you hang back and wait. Belphie hates crowds and you’re not keen on them yourself. It’s going to take awhile for Beel to make it through the crowd to you anyway.

You’re standing in the aisle, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly there’s a loud shout and arms wrap around you from behind and lift you up.

You gasp, and your scream strangles in your throat so what comes out of you is nothing more than a squeak. Your phone goes flying.

You’re frozen for a moment as panic surges. You want to fight and you’re fighting your own brain to push the panic into your limbs so you can fight for yourself.

You vaguely feel a tugging and you hear someone - Belphie? - insisting that you be put down and then your feet are on the ground but there’s no such thing as your legs and you start to fall before the same arms help you gently sit. The ground is gross, but you’ll only care about the damage to your skirt later.

Everything is fuzzy and confusing; you’re not even sure of what you’re looking at until your vision is filled with blue and violet.

You know that swirl of color. That’s a SAFE color, and you start feeling your poor brain start to work again.

You blink into your boyfriend’s blue-violet eyes; you realize he’s cupping your face with his hands and the weird underwater noises start to sound like his voice. You realize, very belatedly, that what probably happened was Beel lifting you up in a victory hug.

“M’okay,” you say, but it sounds robotic. It takes a few more seconds - you don’t know how many - for all of your senses and brain to actually begin working in sync again. You start hearing the sounds of the crowd departing the stadium, and you hear Beel continuing to say your name and trying to get you to answer questions. You almost smile; but smiling wouldn’t make any sense.

“I’m okay,” you say, and you must sound a little more convincing this time because Beel looks relieved. He shoots a few more questions at you, and you realize they’re the kinds of questions people get asked when someone thinks they have a concussion or head trauma.

Your answers satisfy him, so Beel helps you to your feet.

“What was that?” He asks. “Low blood sugar? Are you hungry?”

You have to smile at his very-typical diagnosis. A little sugar wouldn’t hurt, though. For some reason, eating grounds you after something like this. You dig a chocolate bar out of your Backpack of Snacks (Snackpack?) and hand the rest to him.

He impatiently takes a bag of chips out of it but doesn’t open it. He looks at you expectantly and you realize he won’t eat until you do. So you take a bite of the chocolate and he looks more relieved.

“So what the fuck WAS that?” Belphie asks as the three of you move towards the exit.

“Later.” You haven’t yet found a reason to really tell Beel (and, by extension, Belphegor) about everything. You do later that night.

Beel swears he’ll never surprise you like that again. He’s a lot more cautious about touching you for a few days, but eventually things go back to normal between you.

Belphegor

Author note: Dude fucking murdered you, deliberately, in cold blood, and taunted you for your gentleness and desire to help as you died. But let’s say you can get past that - or try to. Probably the second-worst choice, after Satan, for this reason.

You started dating Belphie for the strangest reason: you could trash-talk the shit out of him.

He kept trying to be around you after you made the pact (which, let’s face it, you made so you could MAKE SURE he never hurt you again). Until, after politely dodging him wasn’t working, you told him to take his emo-boy routine and fuck off somewhere else.

You flinched, waiting for retaliation, but he just blinked at you and told you to stop being a brat.

And he was smiling.

But it wasn’t a mean smile - it was a smile that shared the joke.

Your lips quivered into a returning smile, and you threw another insult at him.

He topped it, and hurled one back.

Before you knew it, the two of you were screaming obscenities at each other in the middle of the common room and laughing like hyenas.

For some reason, Belphie calling you a dumb bitch wasn’t an insult. It was a mark of endearment. And it didn’t hurt your feelings or make you afraid.

It was empowering to call him a dickhead if he did something you didn’t like and have him simply laugh and amend his behavior. Nothing bothered him.

He didn’t move quickly; in fact he didn’t move at all if he could help it.

But you would remember, sometimes, the way his hands felt on your throat, or how cold his eyes had been. And you couldn’t say it was a momentary madness, because he’d planned it. He’d been imprisoned because he wanted to kill humanity.

You put it out of your mind. It was something you were good at, after all.

Until the two of you sat down to watch a movie one evening. A simple plot hole sparked a discussion that wound up being….not an argument, but definitely a difference of opinion.

As usual, insults were flying fast and furious when suddenly Belphie laughed and smacked you with his pillow.

It wasn’t an angry move, and it wasn’t hard enough to hurt. It wasn’t a hard blow at all! But the surprise had you falling back on the couch. And the fear had you curling into a ball, arms wrapped around your head protectively, legs curled up to guard your middle.

There is dead silence.

“Hey, Brat?” Belphie asks. When you don’t answer, he calls your name instead.

You slowly, very slowly, begin to uncurl yourself from your position. It takes time for the residual fear to leave, but enough is gone to leave room for embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“I get it,” is the answer.

Cue awkward silence.

“I figured you were still afraid of me.”

“I’m not!” When he just stares blandly at you, you sigh. “Okay, a little. If you wanted to hurt me - again - you’ve had a ton of opportunities. So I don’t think you want to. But…..”

“It’s a hard thing to get over.”

“Yeah. And not just you.” Hesitantly, you start to tell him. You want to just give him the basics, but once you start talking, you can’t seem to stop. He doesn’t interrupt, barely seems to blink, just watches you. A blank vessel to help you empty the poison that fills you sometimes.

You see his jaw tighten as you go on, but you know the anger isn’t at you.

When you finish, he’s silent for a few moments. Then he gathers you up to him. “I’ll never hurt you,” he says.

You look up at him with the same bland look he gave you a moment ago.

“Again,” he amends. “I’ll never hurt you again.”

You let out a watery laugh and he hugs you a bit tighter.

“You’re still a brat, though.”

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

Note

Oh gosh, that post about Saeyoung and his characterization made me want to clap! I once had an argument with one fan who was bashing on him for... 'loving his brother more than he loves us'??? That literally made me feel weirded out. Like, damn. And yeah, a lot of people make him seem more cruel, than he is in canon. I think there's a similar problem with Suit! Like, yeah, he was acting aggressive and harmful - that's undeniable. But... he never really directly hurt us? It's more bark than bite. Well, maybe except for that bite and pushing us on the floor, but in fanon it's always way more extreme than that. I read a few fics where he literally tortures mc and enjoys it, and... it always felt so wrong to me. And I love dark scenarios! I have a few aus myself, but there's always some outside force, that makes them act this way. Like, I can imagine him isolating us or locking us in the room. But I literally cannot imagine him, for example, tying us up and hurting us directly. I genuinely don't believe he's capable of that... Maybe it's just my interpretation of him, I don't really know.

But yeah, I've seen a lot of people in my native fandom, who hate Choi bros, cause they... care for each other?? It's so confusing to me, as a huge Saeyoung fan. Like, his love for his family always made me appreciate him more, why would it push someone away? Of course he should put Saeran first - he's in a cult for Gods sake! It did made me feel a bit upset at the time, when in the Secret Endings we barely got any interaction with him, but it wouldn't feel the same otherwise. I first fell in love with Saeran during the Secret Endings, cause I related to him so much at the time. I just remember crying my eyes out reading his inner thoughts. I think that's why Unknown and SE Saeran are my favourites, haha. And all of that wouldn't be possible if the story was only focusing on our romance with Saeyoung!

So yeah, sorry for the rant, but I just wanted to express my opinion on the matter. I think false characterization is a pretty annoying problem in all fandoms. And that's just Saeyoung and Suit! We could discuss literally every single character in mysme here lmao

Sorry for my huge essay btw I really should be sleeping right now, but I read that post and just couldn't resist ahaha

It's always something, y'know?

Yes, they're angry and bitter, but it hurts to see people think that's all there is to their character. I don't know how many times I've had to go and explain to people that Suit Saeran is afraid. He believes anger is a sword and a shield, if he cries first, they can't make him cry.

It's not a healthy mentality and it hurts him greatly, and he knows that even if his malice was meant for him, you suffered. He apologizes and you're there to say, "I know, I forgive you, and I hope to stay by your side as you heal and become better for yourself."

Suit Saeran is able to say he fucked up. He wasn't right to do what he did and he pays for it. He may say that he likes seeing you cry and be upset, but he doesn't. He just can't admit vulnerability. He just saw Ray get basically torn limb from limb for loving somebody, of course, he's not okay right now.

He locks you in your room, but God, he'd never tie you up or physically beat you. I know why Cheritz added in the bite to that VN itself because it gets them paid for adding in those elements, but I don't care for that, myself. Because I can't see him lashing out in any physical way. Emotionally, yes, but not physically.

If you pay attention to what happens, the only time he touches you is the bite, when he pushes you against the ground, and maybe if you want to count when he nudged you against the wall? But, I think that last one was more him making you walk yourself into a corner.

And it's worse with Unknown because... God, it's so twisted up and it makes me sick. People should write whatever they want to write and enjoy that content, but if I had a dollar for every time I opened a story about Unknown and it turned into Torture Porn, I'd be rich and upset at the same time. Unknown and SE Saeran were also what pulled me in during 2016, so their characterizations mean a lot to me.

Unknown isn't like Ray or Suit Saeran. He doesn't care for you like those two do. You're his eyes. You're a tool. But, he still finds a sense of amusement in you. You're interesting to him. That's just... yeah, it's going to be a mess when you consider him in romance, but it doesn't need to be as grimdark as I've seen for years. I don't even wanna get into that because I'll just get upset. I just wish people tagged things properly because I get so disheartened looking for Unknown stuff and it's just. that.

And Saeyoung gets this rough, too. People will make him out to be the joker that he doesn't want to be. Yes, he loves to play pranks and have fun, but that's not all he is. Don't just lump him off as that one thing. Saeyoung did what he had to do for Saeran in the SE. I'm sorry that he closed himself off again. But what choice did he have at that moment?

Leave Saeran in the hospital to die? Because if he kept lashing out, he was going to get more attention and focus. Not even Jumin Han can protect Saeran from that. He can't. Saejoong would've found him and he would've been fucked royally. Saeyoung made a hard choice, take his brother from the hospital because if he didn't, Saeran would likely die. Yes, that was a bad choice because Saeran needs therapy and specialized care, but he had two options. Let Saeran die or try to help Saeran himself.

It was a mess.

It was a horrible mess but they made due. I personally imagine them to be getting therapy after things settle and they're able to do what they need to do. God, just. Yeah. Fanon is going to happen and there isn't a lot anyone can do. This happens to every character and we're all just going to cry.

#natasha in space #ask #mod kait #character analysis

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wagner-fell · 3 years

Text

“So then Catra writes on this note ‘hey Adora’ and Adora is like ‘grrrr’ and so they do this whole passive aggressive dance where you could have cut the sexual tension with a knife. Oh, and then-”

“I. Hate. History. Class.” Mari slammed their plastic lunch tray onto the table.

“Oh thank god,” said Kevin. Listening to Mari rant was much preferable to hearing about the Princess Prom episode from Astrid. Again.

Blessica hit Kevin and gave him a pointed look.

“I mean it’s bad enough I have to write essays about fucking colonizers. But now I have to sit next to this white-ass American boy? No thanks.”

“You know,” began Astrid, “if you wanted, I could kill this new guy for you with, oh I don’t know, werewolf po-”

“No!” they all shouted in unison. Astrid was mundane with the gift of the slight but she didn’t think of it like a gift. What was the point of being able to see this fantastical reality if she couldn’t be a part of it? What was the point of having three werewolves as your best friends if they refused to turn you into one?

Blessica tried to tell her that, as a downworlder, she would face a lot of discrimination. But what kinda excuse was that? Astrid was a Korean lesbian who, for most of the time, lived with her single mother. At least this branch of marginalization gave her freakin’ superpowers. The only superpower Astrid currently had at her disposal was not having to date men.

Astrid angrily took a bite of her cinnamon roll and Mari followed suit. Blessica tried to pat her arm but Astrid swatted her away.

“American?” Kevin asked. “I don’t remember any Americans. Is he new?”

Mari nodded through a mouthful of baked goods. She tucked her tie into her black-and-white uniform sweater vest so they didn’t stain it. Normally she wouldn’t have bothered but laundry had been a living nightmare lately. They promptly realized that her sweater vest was also going to get food on it. In removing it, their stomach flashed briefly. She stuffed it in her bag and set an alarm on her phone so they wouldn’t forget to put it back on before the lunch bell rang. Like that time Miss Yang made them jelly doughnuts and she got detention for a week. Mari really hated this school sometimes.

When she looked up to see half the surrounding area staring at them, they looked down at her collared shirt to see if she had gotten fresh cinnamon bun gooeyness on it already.

Astrid laughed. “It’s because you exposed your six-pack.” She moved her fork around in circles, making sure the ranch covered each piece of lettuce in her salad. Astrid loved ranch. She kept a gigantic bottle of it in her bag at all times. “You know, one time this guy asked me if you got them tattooed on. Cause girls can’t have abs and all that bull.”

“And what did you tell him?” asked Mari, amused.

“No.”

“Thank go-”

“I told him the truth. That the only tattoo you have is of Consul Lightwood’s face on your ass.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“The world deserves to know.”

“You're a hazard to society.”

“Awwwww. Mari! I love you too.”

Astrid smiled and shoved a mouthful of salad into her mouth as Mari rolled their eyes.

“Holy shit,” said Blessica, staring at something over Mari’s shoulder. “That is the second hottest man I have ever seen.”

Kevin glanced in the direction she was looking at then back to her. “What? Who?” he asked at the same time Mari drawled, “second hottest, who’s the first?” with a single eyebrow raised.

Blessica blushed as Kevin continued his search. “M-magnus Bane. Obviously.”

“Riiiiiiiight,” said Astrid, looking between her and Kevin.

Blessica blushed deeper. “Shut up.”

“Wow,” said Kevin. “That him?” He pointed and this time Mari turned around…to face Kit fucking Herondale.

Blessica, still red in the face, nodded.

“Wow indeed,” agreed Astrid.

“Aren’t you a lesbian?” questioned Blessica.

“Blessie, darling, I may rather suck on a cactus than suck on a dick but hotties can admire their fellow hotties. Gender is irrelevant in this scenario.”

Mari slammed their hands down onto the table. “Ladies! We are better than simping, even just hottie wise, over an American, white boy! We have standards! And Kevin! I know that” disgust dripped from her voice, “is your type, but resist!”

He rolled his eyes. “Jesus. You hook up with two blonde nephilim and suddenly it’s your type.”

“Yes,” said Astrid slowly, as if explaining something to a very dim child, “that’s how it works.”

Mari felt like they were missing something. Her three friends began discussing where they wanted to go tomorrow for Blessica’s birthday but they were stuck on Kevin’s statement. Something about it wasn’t quite right. It took her longer than she was proud of to figure it out.

“Wait, hold up, did you say nephilim? Kit is a Shadowhunter?!”

They all exchanged a look. “Uh, yeah. Didn’t you see the Mark on his hand?”

Mari turned back to him again. He was sitting by himself at a few tables, scrolling away. And on the hand holding his water bottle… was a voyance rune, clear as day. How did they miss that? “What is a Shadowhunter doing here anyway?”

Kevin shrugged. “Perhaps he’s here to check out London’s up-coming werewolf. I hear she’s a hazard to society.”

Astrid’s head shot up. “Really?!”

“No, sorry sweetie,” interjected Blessica. Astrid finished her cinnamon bun with an annoyed ‘hmph’.

They chatted more about Blessica’s upcoming sixteenth birthday before Kevin came up with the dumbest idea ever. Which was an extremely difficult title to earn amongst the 11th years at St. Lucy’s Academy.

“We should invite the Shadowhunter.”

Mari scoffed. “The whole pack’s gonna be there! Like hell they would let a Shadowhunter crash it.”

“Oh please. Once they lay their eyes on McDreamy, they’ll all forget about his angel blood.”

Astrid gasped. “Is that a Grey’s Anatomy reference? Are you finally watching it?” They all ignored her.

“I think it might be fun,” said Blessica. “And it’s my party so…” She stood up and walked over to Kit’s table, Kevin right behind her.

Astrid picked up her salad with one hand and her second cinnamon bun with the other. “Come in,” she said. “What’s the worst that can happen. You fall in love?”

“Haha,” said Mari, slinging her bag over their shoulder and joining the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ @adoravel-fenomeno @im-not-ruined-im-ruination@thechangeling @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @sofiatheskeleton @cncnbr @its-taff @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @noah-herondale-lightwood @maxboythedog @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @illusions-give-reasons-to-live @book-dragon-not-worm @the-blackdale @the-wckd-powers Lmk if you want to b adde/removed from the tag list!

#mari machado #mari Machado Sotomayor #blessica reyes #astrid yang #kevin chu #the merry hoes #kit rook #kit herondale #mari the werewolf

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nafeary · 4 years

Text

“Sun and Moon”

⚬ Pairing: Leonardo da Vinci/Reader

⚬ Characters: Reader, Leo, Comte, and Mozart

⚬ Word Count: 1.3k

⚬ Genre: Fluff, but also a lil bit of Leo being an edgelord

⚬ Warnings: none

⚬ Event: 500 Follower Milestone Celebration [Requests Closed]

✧✎ Prompt/s: Requested by @nishtharya

4. “You’re like the moon.” “Didn’t you say I was hot?”

14. “Gossip and cuddles? “Gossip and cuddles.”

✧✎ A/N: haha, did I say flashfics haha uhm... I’m sorry, but im physically unable to write things without plot, it seems. I hope you enjoy this regardless 💜💜💜 take care everyone, and drink water!

Snowflakes were brimming the edge of your wool hat, your fingertips numb and stiff as you pulled your mantle tight around yourself. Impatient footsteps were stamped across the white ground of Comte’s mansion, evidence of you foul mood. Things had been difficult enough, especially with the mansion’s butler having fallen sick, and now a vexing encounter with some disparaging men at weekly market had left you intensely frustrated.

As you huffed a billow of your breath into the air, you spotted the le Comte conversing with Leonardo, the latter rather apparent in showing his apathy. Your eyes met across the distance, molten gold slowly enrapturing your senses—they’ve always had the ability to annihilate even the most stubborn of negative emotions, yet you couldn’t help your frustration at the period-typical misogyny you had had to face.

Your lover promptly turned back to his friend, giving him a friendly pat on his shoulder before sauntering over to you. Le Comte nodded your way before disappearing inside the mansion.

“So,” you began once he stopped in front of your form, resisting the urge to wrap your arms around him and rubbing your icy fingers together in an attempt to spark some warmth. “what were you two talking about?”

“Nothing too important, cara mia.” He’s apparently taken notice of your shivers, warmth spread across your skin, when he clasped your hands in his; then, he started to squeeze them, kneading your skin with his thumbs until you felt the uncomfortable stiffness gradually wear off.

He brought your hands close to his face, pursed his saccharine lips, and started to blow on them. A sensation fizzled to life in your lower tummy, akin to a hearty soup warming you from the inside.

Leo guided your threaded hands to his chest while gazing at you beneath his dense lashes. “He merely informed me that the ball tonight was canceled.”

Ah... the ball. A friend of le Comte’s had invited Mozart to play at that ball—which would have been tonight—and the master of the mansion insisted on his attendance. Society and tradition invariably got their way, thus causing you to be appointed as his entourage. None of you were elated at this development, and you were certain that Leo was reluctant to let you attend a ball as someone else’s sweetheart... pretend or not.

But he’d kept quiet, enjoining you to enjoy yourself while requesting Mozart to look out for you. As much as you appreciated his consideration, you had contemplated the decision to attend regardless—but the occurrences today had officially soiled your mood.

“I see... truth be told, I wasn’t in the mood to hang around nobles, anyway.” And truly, you’d much rather curl up beneath your lover’s blanket, asking Leo whether he could whip up that minestrone that was the epitome of soul food. Perhaps even telling him about those men’s revolting views.

Bits of snow began to powder his ashen hair, reflecting the light of the moon as they slowly melted. The frosty flakes in stark contrast to his calming expression, they prompted you to lift the corner of your lips, not wanting to look too cold and mad under his warm gaze. “I see. Is there anything you’d like to do, mia principessa?”

He shed his mantle, gently pulling it over your shoulders in a graceful arch. “Gossip and cuddles?” You hated how needy you sounded, yet there was no use concealing the desire to spend time with your beau. Leonardo would waste no time figuring out your hidden emotions, either way.

“Gossip and cuddles, it is.”

“—and they had the audacity to tell me that I ought to cover my cleavage further over the day. What’s the point of doing that if evening wear shows of racks left and right, anyway?”

You’d been ranting about the ways of the 19th century for a good hour now. In between a few tears of vexation—especially looking back on the more hurtful comments they’d thrown your way—and plenty furious curses here and there, Leonardo had prepared you some minestrone. After only a couple of spoons, you could already feel the crease in between your eyebrows subsiding.

Now, his arms were protectively wound around your stomach, molding the marbles of your spine against his chest. Being the big spoon was his favourite thing, that much he’d admitted. Not that you were complaining, of course—the warmth his hugs shared was incomparable. “Thank you for listening to me. I’m sorry if I bored you.”

“Nonsense,” he whispered in response, pressing his soft lips against the shell of your ear, and continued peck after peck until he reached your temple. “They had know right judging you based on your appearance.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, the only sound disturbing the peace resounding from the little cocoon Lumiere had curled herself into, adorable quiet mewling making you simper from ear to ear.

You recalled the earlier fortunate events, halting at the sheer convenience. Pursing your lips in thought, you were more than certain that Leonardo must have asked Comte to excuse yourself from the activity upon seeing your distress—he could read you like no other, after all. He must have already known to your desire not to attend the festivities.

“You know, Leo? You’re like the moon, in some ways.”

He playfully nibbled your ear, prompting you to flinch in surprise, vermillion staining your cheeks. “Didn’t you say I was hot? Just yesterday, you were claiming that in between your pretty gasps—”

Swiftly, you turned around, lightly pinching his arms in the process. “I get it. Let me talk.” As serious as you were trying to come across, you couldn’t help a few giggles from slipping past your mouth, his wide-eyed expression, and that surprised pout lacing his lips, just too satisfactory.

“You’re always incredibly attentive and caring. No matter what, you never fail to watch over your loved ones, just like the moon never fails to guide us through darkness.” Just the way he immediately got to work to make you feel better, without ever having been asked to do so, filled you with a sense of belonging.

Your stare fluttered past the window revealed by the drapes, the moonlight sparkling in alabaster droplets that poured from the kohl sky.

“Beyond that, you never reveal your true intentions—even if you’re directly called out, you just... manage to stay in the shadows without ever admitting that you were looking out for someone.” You’ve gotten used to your lover’s innovative ways—both in helping people out, and hiding that that’s what he was assaying to achieve.

“And you shine so so bright, Leonardo. Especially when you choose to step into your moonlight, celebrating with the people around you instead of merely watching them live from the shadows.” At this point, you were aware that your were trailing off, the cogs in your mind turning slower and slower, as though they were treading through syrup.

Slowly, his body began to respond to your admittedly embarrassing musings, yet his eyes were the last thing you managed to focus on before succumbing to your exhaustion, a stunning gold that beheld you as if you were his greatest treasure.

As you let your head fall onto his chest, he could feel his unconscious slipping to and fro like an ocean tide as he whispered a honeyed, “ti amo, cara mia,” into the tangles of your hair, the universe never seeming so in orbit.

“If I am indeed the moon, you are the sun—so bright, I’m afraid I might appear to tenebrous.”

Tag List of the most wonderful sweethearts (just message me if you’d like to be added <3): @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta @delicateikemenmemes

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radiantroope · 4 years

Text

Passed Around || JJ Maybank

pairing: jj x reader

mentions: john b, pope, kiara

requested: no

summary: everyone in the outer banks has their opinions of you. a touron with a smart mouth learns just how quick jj will come to your defense.

warnings: underage consumption of drugs/alcohol, swearing, violence, blood

author’s note: i just started writing randomly and this was the product, enjoy.

masterlist | add yourself to my tag list

* i do not own this gif! if it’s yours, please let me know so i can properly credit you! *

Of course, there was another party at The Boneyard. No surprise there. Summer or Winter, there was always a party. The amount of people that filled the beach always somehow managed to surprise you, especially when it was off season for the tourists. Sometimes you’d still get a couple; people visiting family who lived on the island for Thanksgiving or Christmas.

It was the beginning of December and you’d just arrived at the beach, already hearing thumping music and loud laughter. The brisk ocean air was much colder than you preferred as it came off the ocean. You were yearning for those hot Summer nights again.

You pulled the jacket you were wearing tighter around yourself and continued on your way down to your friends. Just as you hopped over one of the dead and forgotten trees, you heard a shout of your name. You looked to the kegs and smiled when you saw Kiara waving her arm.

As you approached her, you raised an eyebrow at the three kegs set up. Three, how did they manage to score three? You didn’t ask, sometimes you were just better off not knowing. You gratefully took the plastic cup John B passed you and quickly drank some of the bitter liquid.

“Rough day?” the curly haired boy raised an eyebrow at you.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes but ranted anyway, “My grandma is still here. She was supposed to leave after Thanksgiving and now my parents tell me she’s staying all the way through Christmas! If I have to listen to her talk about what college I should go to or about boys any longer, I’m gonna go insane!”

“Does- she doesn’t know about JJ?” Kiara asked with her brows furrowed.

“Oh, she does, but she’s in some alternate reality where she thinks I’ll marry a Kook and be a trophy wife,” you retorted with a sarcastic smile on your face, “My mom’s told her a hundred times that JJ and I are together and nothing will change that.”

You looked over your shoulder at the said blonde who was sitting in a circle with some other teenagers. You saw smoke pillowing through the air and were hit with the faint smell of weed. JJ’s cerulean eyes caught yours and he smiled, waving for you to join him.

“Go, we’ll catch up about your crazy grandma later,” Kiara said, smiling at you.

You smiled back at the girl and turned to walk towards your boyfriend, calling over your shoulder, “Love you, Kie!”

You and JJ had gotten together about nine months ago. Years of longing looks and lingering touches were driving your friends insane. How could two people be so oblivious? Everyone knew your hearts were set on each other, but the two of you were always too stubborn to admit it. Plus, you didn’t want to be the one to break the no macking rule.

One day at the Chateau it boiled over when one of your hookups over stayed his welcome. JJ woke up for the third morning in a row to find the guy helping himself to his stash. He lost it. He wailed on the poor boy and literally kicked him out the door. This resulted in you insisting you liked him and the blonde calling bullshit.

“How do you know how I feel, JJ? You don’t!” you’d screamed, stomping your foot like an angry toddler who’d just been told no as you tried to get your point across.

“Yes I do! Pope told me you’re in love with me!”

Yeah, Pope spilled the beans after you made the drunken confession one night. You swore him to secrecy, but that boy couldn’t keep secrets to save his life most of the time. You still to this day would never let him live that down. But how could you stay mad at him when it resulted in the best possible outcome? JJ was yours, and you were his, finally.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” you flirted as you walked over to the blonde boy.

JJ smiled and laughed, shaking his head at you, “You’re rediculous.”

“But you love me,” you stated as you plopped yourself on his lap, sitting most of your weight on his thigh. His arm wrapped around your waist tightly and he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“Damn right I do.”

You watched as a blunt was passed around the group and listened in on the conversation, chimming in now and again. You took a few puffs yourself when JJ held it up to your lips. You weren’t a big smoker though. Half of the time it made you more anxious than it calmed your down.

JJ had gone to get you both refills on your beers but got distracted talking to Pope and John B. You took his seat and turned to watch him, smiling when he laughed and his eyes crinkled at the corners. His bright white teeth sparkled in the glow of a fire that was going. You watched as the breeze blew his cut off tank and you caught his muscles tense at the cold hair.

“So you and Maybank, huh?” a voice caught your attention and you whipped around.

A Touron, Dominic, who frequented the island this time of year sat in front of you. He had shaggy dark brown hair that was straight and fell around his face, barely touching his jaw. His eyes were a beautiful mossy shade of green. You probably would have hooked up with him in the past is he wasn’t known to be such an ass. He ran around with Rafe and his goons during the day and spent his nights on The Cut causing trouble. He was nicknamed “girlfriend stealer” after many-a-hookups that resulted in ended relationships.

“Yeah,” you responded blandly. There was no way in hell you were going to entertain this kid. He took pride in stealing people’s girls; you would not be one of them.

“You could do better,” Dominic remarked, an infuriating smirk growing on his face. You resisted the urge to slap it right off.

“Like you?” you scoffed, eyebrow raised. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t act like you don’t want to. I remember the way you used to look at me.”

You clenched your jaw and pressed your lips into a line. You stared at him with a blank expression, the smirk on his face growing. He opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off.

“Everything okay over here?” JJ asked from behind you.

He’d seen the way Dominic was looking at you. He knew the game the little shit was playing, and it was a dangerous one. The group of teenagers in the circle you were sitting in looked between the three of you nervously. They all knew better than to push JJ, especially when it came to you. He was quick to fight - even quicker when it was over you.

“Yeah man! Just telling Y/N here she used to be a lot more fun before she got a boyfriend,” Dominic replied casually, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

You stood up and turned to face JJ, seeing that he’d handed your drink refills off to John B and Pope who stood behind him. He’d been anticipating this the moment he saw you two talking. You put your hands on the blonde’s chest and stared up at him.

“Let’s just go, J. It’s not a big deal.”

“Nah, I want to hear what he has to say,” JJ pushed your hands off his chest, eyes never leaving the brunette who was now standing.

Dominic snickered and pushed his hair back off his forehead, saying, “I heard she got passed around quite a bit. Rafe sure had a lot to say about her. Was hoping I could find out for myself.”

Low blow, asshole, you thought to yourself, feeling your stomach sink at the mention of the oldest Cameron sibling. You’d messed around with him long before you and JJ got together, Topper too. It put a rift between you and the Pogues for a while. They didn’t care who you slept with, as long as they weren’t Kooks, but you did what you wanted. JJ was the most upset. You were sleeping with the enemy.

JJ went to walk around you, ready to pummel Dominic into the sand. You grabbed the front of JJ’s shirt and pushed him back with all of your strength. You hated when he got in fights. You couldn’t watch. Most of the time he won, but when he didn’t, you had to clean him up. You tried to keep him out of them the best you could.

“Don’t, JJ, please,” you begged, pushing against his abs, “It’s not worth it.”

JJ’s eyes flickered down to yours, his cold gaze softening a bit when he looked at your pleading face.

“Wow, they weren’t kidding. You really are her bitch,” Dominic said through a laugh when he realized you were convincing JJ not to fight him.

“Shut the fuck up!” you yelled over your shoulder, pushing your boyfriend back once again.

It was useless, JJ managed to get past you, your hands grabbing onto his arms and shirt - whatever you could get ahold of to keep him back. John B grabbed your arm the second the blonde’s fist hit Dominic’s face. You looked back at your curly haired friend and he simply shook his head. Not even Pope moved, they were going to let the guy get his assbeat for talking about you like that. No one talked about you like that.

“Don’t ever talk about her like that again!” JJ yelled, arms swinging, “I’ll kill you, you hear me?! I’ll fucking kill you!”

You tried to shout your boyfriend’s name over the cheering from people watching the fight. He couldn’t hear you, still standing over Dominic who’d been knocked down. He landed blow after blow against the Touron’s face.

“Alright, JJ!” John B yelled, stepping forward.

“He’s had enough, man!” Pope added.

You breathed in deeply through your nose and closed your eyes for a second. As you opened your eyes, you screamed JJ’s name as loud as you could. It was so loud, everyone went quiet and their eyes turned to you.

The blonde froze, fist still pulled back mid swing. His anger fueled frenzy was over and he was brought back to Earth by your voice. He dropped Dominic, who was groaning in pain, into the sand by his shirt. His arm fell to his side and he turned to face you. He had blood trickling down from his nose but other than that, he seemed to be perfectly unharmed.

“Are you done?” you questioned, arms crossing over your chest with a raised brow.

JJ simply nodded in response and walked away from the boy he’d just seriously beaten. He approached you with slumped shoulders and sheepish expression, knowing you were going to scold him for getting in yet another fight. But how could he just stand there and let someone degrade you like that?

“Sorry,” he muttered softly and reached for you, slipping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you back towards the kegs. Kiara stood there, shaking her head as she had watched the altercation from afar.

“If he presses charges, you’re thouroughly fucked, you know that?” you asked him seriously. Though you brought your hand up and intertwined your fingers with his that was hanging off your shoulder.

The blonde boy nodded and took a cup of beer from Kie with his free hand. He downed it all in one go, grunting as he pulled the cup away from his lips. He gave it back for her to refill.

“I know you’re trying to defend me, J, but sometimes I wish you could just walk away,” you sighed and leaned into him, feeling a kiss against the top of your head.

“I’ll try to be better, promise,” he mumbled into your hair and when he pulled his head back you heard him laugh softly. He wiped his hand against your hair and when you looked up at him, he gave you an innocent smile. You saw the trail of blood leaving his nose was smeared and narrowed your eyes.

“You got blood in my hair, didn’t you?”

“Yup.”

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years

Text

Long Nights - part 2

Neil x Reader

Chapter 2: Praise you

(see chapter 1)

summary: you found tremendous joy in coming up with new ways to make the lockpicking sessions challenging. And entertaining.

...even if the last part was mostly a one-sided thing.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, teasing, implied smut I guess? oh, and of course - ✨hand content✨

author’s note: Took me a while, but it was fun to write! Didn’t expect it to get this long, but here we are - over 4,2k words of shameless hand content

The song for this chapter is Fatboy Slim - Praise you

Anyway, enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @vaneilla @gallifreyan-uprising @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @truly-insatiable (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

-----

You cracked it.

It took you a good while, though. A whole sleepless night, even.

And half of the morning after that.

But maybe the absolute exhaustion was the key, pun intended.

At first, it boggled your mind so much that you were dangerously close to using brute force just to examine that lock. You tried every technique that you could think of - to no effect. It wasn’t like anything you’d seen before. The mechanism wasn’t responding as usual, it was more like a thing from goddamn Upside Down, or however the fuck that was called.

It became a matter of pride.

The sun had risen over an hour ago and the sunlight was pouring through the gaps in the blinds. Grasping at the last strands of sanity, you decided to take a break. You put on your headphones and danced around your apartment to the sounds of a song with that one bloody line that somehow seemed fitting for this madness.

Is it worth it? Let me work it, I put my thang down, flip it and reverse it

Because it felt exactly like that was what had happened to it. And no amount of cursing and switching tools would help in the face of glitched reality.

And when you sat down at your desk again, with your head so empty that your last brain cell was amusing itself by yodeling and listening to an echo, you bound the first pin. The sound was so distorted it almost startled you. The last thing you needed right then was to break the hook inside the keyway, so you leveled your breath and continued, even though your fingers cramped painfully. That wasn’t enough to stop you. Not as you finally got proof that the task was actually within your reach.

With every click like a backwards version of the sound you knew so well, the next pins got set quicker and smoother. And when you opened the lock, you couldn’t help the cheerful scream that escaped your mouth.

“Fuck yes!” You punched the air, the adrenaline rushing through your veins, the biggest grin lighting up your face.

That’s when you knew there was no way you were going to sleep anytime soon. Besides, you still didn’t know how you managed to convince that device to cooperate. You had to prove to yourself that it wasn’t dumb luck, and should you ever come upon a bloody nightmare like that, you’d be able to use the experience to crack it open. Because of that, you spent the next couple of hours reverse-picking it (which turned out to be another level of bonkers) to lock the damn thing, only to open it back again. And again. And then three times more. When you got comfortable with the process, your eyes were burning, your fingers stiff and trembling, but the immense satisfaction was worth every bit of it.

You were about to crash on the bed as your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the incoming message.

//did you pick it?

At first, you assumed you got it from Mahir, but as you were typing in a long rant, you realized that there was no history of the previous conversations on the screen, so you checked the sender again.

Neil.

Huh.

You’d exchanged the numbers the day before, but you didn’t expect to hear from him until they got everything ready to start the lessons. Oh well. You snapped the picture of the open lock and sent it back, adding a short message.

//that was fun, hope you have more of them

As you faceplanted on the bed, the phone buzzed with a reply.

//N: you bet

You couldn’t wait to get all the answers about how they managed to manufacture the most bizarre and mind-bending thing you’d ever seen, but there was no point in asking those questions over the phone. Plus, you really needed to get some rest.

//awesome! now excuse me, imma get some Zs - let me know when you guys are ready to start

After a second, you typed in another text.

//ps. how’s your nose?

//N: will do, sleep well!

//N: as for my nose...let’s say I’m glad it wasn’t the straightest one in the first place

That cheeky bastard.

//hey, don’t try to guilt-trip me, i’m trying to sleep

You almost drifted off, but you couldn’t resist checking that last notification.

//N: ...I wouldn’t dare

Snorting, you rolled to the side.

Then you fell asleep, dreaming of the impossible locks.

-------

It took them another day to prepare all the stuff, and after several further messages you got a date and location.

The building looked like a contemporary tenement house, definitely standing out from two older ones at its sides. You always assumed it belonged to one of those fancy start-ups, but apparently it was some sort of temporary headquarters of your new associates.

It didn’t surprise you that you weren’t given a tour of the place, you assumed you needed to have some sort of clearance to walk freely through the area. For now, you were restricted to the ground floor, or rather to the lobby and your classroom - a rather cozy space, but equipped with everything you needed to begin.

Neil turned out to be a fast learner, at least when it came to covering the theoretical side of lockpicking. You walked him through the basics, but you couldn’t help the itch in the back of your brain. After the encounter with the preposterous lock, your mind started to question everything that used to be unshakeable.

And of course you asked Neil about that bloody device as soon as you saw him, but he just smiled lightly and said that The Protagonist insisted on telling you all that himself when the time was right. So you had nothing left to do but to continue with the lessons, hoping that you the man himself would decide to grace you with his presence sooner than later.

You propped the chin on your hand and watched as Neil grabbed the tools. Your gaze wandered over his outrageously long fingers as he gave the lock a try, but apparently, the most idiotic grin on your face didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey, eyes up here,” snorted Neil, and you looked at him just to meet his amused face. He caught you shamelessly staring, and there was no point in denying it.

Trying to salvage your mental coherence, you choked out, “Dude, your hands are--”

“What?” he asked, tilting his head.

“...huge,” you finished, the wide smile not leaving even for a second. You bit your lip and glanced back at Neil. “Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna stare for a bit longer.”

A hint of a blush crept upon his cheeks. My, oh my. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his throat and proceeded to bind the first pin, pressing his mouth into a thin line in an attempt to keep a composed demeanor. The sparkles in his gaze were quite telling, though.

The sight was utterly adorable, but more importantly, it planted a rather gut-busting idea into your head.

You stifled a giggle.

All in due time.

____

One of the perks of the location was a small cafe on the other side of the street.

Neil took you there on your second day during a break, walking in with a confidence of a true regular. He knew the staff by name and vice-versa, so it didn’t surprise you as he charmed his way through the conversation.

“I’ve got this,” he said, raising a hand to stop you before you could place your order. “One black coffee and one--...” he hesitated, still preventing you from chiming in. You crossed your arms and watched as his forehead creased, the confidence leaving him with every second passed. He narrowed his eyes, and you could almost hear the gears grinding in his head.

Whatever he was doing, or trying to do, it was time to put him out of his misery.

“Iced mocha for me, please,” you said, wondering which one of you had a more puzzled expression. “Cat got your tongue?”

Neil shook his head.

“No, it’s just…” - he let out a small sigh - “I can’t read you.”

“Good,” you snorted. “Why would you want to, anyway?”

The young barista smiled, putting the first coffee on the counter.

“Oh, your colleague here has a thing.”

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “Do tell!”

“It’s nothing,” said Neil, cringing slightly, but it wasn’t enough to prevent the enthusiastic answer from spilling from the barista.

“He likes to guess the orders of his companions, but this is prolly the first time I ever saw him freeze like that. Can’t wait to tell Doris!”

Neil groaned, avoiding your amused stare. “Spare me, Max.”

“Aww, man, I’m honored to be your first!” you teased, nudging his arm lightly and snickering at the absolutely done face he gave you in return.

That cafe quickly became your place of choice during breaks, but sometimes, if the weather was nice enough, you ordered to-go, just to spend that bit of free time between lockpicking sessions sitting on a grassy hill overlooking a bank of the river. You chatted about everything and nothing in particular, or simply sat in silence, enjoying the ambiance, beverages, and each other’s company.

The last thing took you by surprise, in a way. You’d expected those brief moments of a break during the day to be your sacred moments of solitude, the usual necessity to avoid getting too cranky around people. As Neil joined you on that second day, you found out that his presence was not bothering you, or at least your social batteries weren’t being drained in their regular manner. Sure, it probably helped that he was incredibly easy on the eyes, but a real treat were those moments when you ventured onto a territory he felt strongly about. In a wink, he was ready to drop his typical composure just to go straight into bubbly rants, gesturing wildly, the blue irises lit by the fire that he most often kept under wraps.

There was nothing more boring than people who lacked passion.

Lucky for you, that was not the case with Neil.

Moreover, he made you laugh.

A dangerous combination.

Alluring, even.

Good thing that you were not one to become smitten that easily.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t have some fun, though.

--------

“You need to listen to what the lock has to say,” you prompted, pacing through the room and watching as Neil struggled with a new type of mechanism. “It’s all about feedback.”

He pulled out the tools and rubbed his face, trying to hide the first hints of frustration.

“What if we apply heavier tension to amplify it?” he said and glared at the lock as if it was taunting him from its place on the practice stand.

“Sure, “ - you leaned over the table to rest the chin on your laced fingers - “but can you think of any reasons not to do that, my dear Physics Boy?”

“The higher possibility of breaking tools?”

“Precisely,” you said as you snapped and pointed your fingers. ”Also, you risk binding the pins too tightly and you wouldn’t want that, either.”

Neil sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“So...patience, then?”

“Yes,” you beamed. “It really comes down to one thing - you have to feel it.”

A corner of his lips twitched. “I’ve heard it before,” he said, shifting in his seat.

You shrugged, eyeing him curiously.

“Maybe because that’s one universally useful advice?”

“Would help if I understood it, too.” He gave you a weak smile, but his expression told you he wasn’t convinced.

You hummed in acknowledgment.

“Listen, I can smarten it up for you, but let me just show you what I mean.” You grabbed the second pair of tools from the table and placed them inside the keyway, but as soon as you opened your mouth to provide some follow-up instructions, you got struck by a better idea. Your eyes flared up. “Okay, know what? I’m just gonna-- if you could scoot back a bit--...” you said, shuffling in his direction. Neil’s brows snapped together in consternation, but he moved back. Without further ado, you sat down in front of him, nestling yourself between his spread legs on the edge of the chair, and let out a content sigh. “Should be easier now. Put your hands on mine.“

Neil tensed, and you could swear you heard him swallowing hard behind your back. He followed your suggestion, wrapping his arms around you and placing his hands on top of yours.

“Now, lay your fingers on the tools just above mine,” you continued as you slid your digits back to make more room for him. “Great, try not to press them and focus. Close your eyes, if you want.” As you gently moved the tools, you couldn’t resist but to add, “You can breathe though, you know?”

“Blimey.”

You giggled at the sarcastic bit in his tone and drew a long breath, hoping that Neil would follow it, and focused back on the lock. Purposefully slowing down your movements to allow him to feel how the mechanism responded to your ministrations, you kept sliding the hook back and forth the keyway, setting pin after pin. Neil relaxed after a moment, his shallow breath ghosting over your shoulder got deeper and more steady. His palms rested heavier on your hands, and you marveled at their size again, nibbling on your bottom lip. With all your senses sharpened, you stole a brief moment of self-indulgence, closing your eyes and relishing in the warmth radiating from Neil, the way it enveloped you, carrying a scent of his cologne - airy citrus undertones mixed with hints of powdery musk, a fresh and unostentatious combination you found fitting him so well.

The final click, more pressure and voilà - the lock was open.

“Did you feel it?” you asked softly, weirdly unwilling to move, hoping to linger in the position for a little while longer.

“Yes,” said Neil, and his husky voice made you turn your head to look at him. As he pulled his hands back somewhat hesitantly, you noticed his dazed expression and slightly flushed cheeks.

“Good,” you chirped, grinning, then reached out over your shoulder and lightly booped his nose, enjoying probably a bit too much the way his eyes widened. “Your turn.”

-----

Days. Weeks. Or was it months, plural?

You lost track of how much time had passed since that morning in the Old Town district.

The progress was counted by the number of models you introduced to Neil, showing him all the tricks you’d learned over the years. You still waited for the meeting with The Protagonist, although, ever since your student spilled a little too much information during one of his enthusiastic rants at the breaks (seriously, how could a person that bad at keeping secrets survive so long in any sort of spying business was beyond you), your initial curiosity itch had been scratched, and you were now in that blessed moment before it got unbearable again and demanded taking further actions.

It also helped that you found tremendous joy in coming up with new ways to make the lockpicking sessions challenging. And entertaining. Even if the last part was mostly a one-sided thing.

Neil was clearly feeling confident that evening. He really started to get a hang of this, and you loved watching him like that - fully focused, blonde strands falling to the eyes, with the tip of the tongue poking out...

It would be a shame if someone was to test his level of concentration.

“You know, I spend so much time looking at your hands that they recently started making cameos in my dreams.”

The blue eyes darted at you from under raised brows.

“Is that so?" asked Neil, switching his attention to the lock again.

“Yep. Mind you, most of those dreams are rather uneventful.” You pouted, sliding from your place on the windowsill. “Still waiting for one that is not so boringly PG-13.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and swallowed with effort.

...warmer...

Circling the table, you stopped behind Neil’s chair.

"I’m just saying,” - leaning over, you purred right into his ear - ”that such long fingers like yours can give a girl all sorts of ideas--"

Snap.

You bit back a satisfied smile and smacked your tongue. “Those were perfectly fine tools, you know.”

Neil turned in his seat and gaped at you.

“Why are you like this?” he complained, helpless and flustered.

You shrugged. “I thought it was a high time for a little stress test. Might come in handy later.” Snickering at his puzzled face, you added, “What? You’re not exactly in a stress-free line of work.”

He shook the head lightly and scoffed. “... yeah, I see your point,” he said, a corner of his mouth curling into a half-smile. “But I don’t think there’s a high risk of someone trying to seduce me in the field.”

“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?” you asked, arching a brow, your tone nothing but serious.

“I-...”

The panicked look on his face as he blinked rapidly was more than enough to break your deadpan façade.

“Oh man, I’m just pulling your leg. You should’ve seen your face though.” Giggling, you grabbed a fresh lock from a shelf and tossed it to Neil. He sighed and replaced the messed-up device. “Besides,” you continued, “if there is one thing that the espionage movies have taught me, it’s that the spy always has plenty of beautiful creatures willing to keep his bed warm.”

The playful sparks appeared in Neil’s eyes.

“Is this a very elaborate way of asking me if I’m seeing someone or are you volunteering?”

Well, well, well.

“What if it’s both?”

“Then the first answer is no. As for the second one--” he hesitated, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. “...a follow-up question - is it a good idea?”

You tilted your head, sitting down on the edge of the table in front of him.

“Why?”

“What if it’s gonna make things… I don’t know, weird?”

You gestured vaguely. “Can’t get any weirder than all your timey-wimey, inverted entropy bullshit.”

“That’s not exactly--”

“I know what you meant,” you sighed and met his darkened gaze, a shade of smile tainting your lips. “And yet, you’re trying to appeal to my reason while looking at me like that.” You left your seat and grabbed your backpack. “It’s getting late. Finish with this one and get some rest.”

Then you left, not waiting for a reply.

It was one of the warm nights and you decided to take a walk. A promenade near the river was not as crowded as you expected, making your journey home way more enjoyable. With your favourite tunes seeping through the headphones, you took in the view, the city lights reflecting in the water only added to the ambiance.

The phone buzzed in your pocket.

//N: I can’t believe you left like that

You chuckled, texting him back.

//why, you had any plans?

The answer came almost instantly.

//N: maybe

He was adorable. But--

//have you finished with the lock?

//N: …no

//N: wait are you gonna use our conversation as some sort of motivational tool now

Even if you weren’t, after getting a message like that?

You just had to.

//maybe?

//N: jesus

//sex is but a great metaphorical carrot. besides - it’s all about that delayed gratification and whatnot

A moment of silence.

And then:

//N: you’re evil.

That spiteful period at the end got you snickering loudly, earning you some curious looks.

A huge grin lit up your face.

//gn <3

-----

You must admit, that game was quite exciting.

And Neil was getting better at it, and soon implying became no longer enough to make him lose his focus.

At first, it was relatively easy to prompt a blush or a slight tremble of a hand. But with every next attempt, he grew more and more resilient, and soon, the only indication that he heard you was the fire burning in his eyes.

Then you got really mean, throwing some ambitious tasks in front of him, tricky locks and complex mechanisms, as your teasing got more straightforward.

And descriptive.

It became hard to shake it off once you left the training room. The lingering looks. The accidental touches. The atmosphere, almost electric. In other words - the heat sink was ready to be popped, and it was no longer a matter of if, but more of when.

“4 minutes.”

Neil barely nodded, lips pressed together and brows knitted in concentration.

3 locks in 15 minutes. Difficult, but doable, considering his current level of skill. Too bad he’d slacked at the second one, not leaving too much time for the final push. Sure, you didn’t go easy on him along the way, but the real challenge was supposed to be a race against the clock, so now you just watched him with bated breath.

Click.

You checked the time.

“45 seconds”

“Goddamnit!” he uttered through gritted teeth, readjusting cramping fingers on the tools.

“Come on, you’ve got this,” you said, taking a step closer.

Another click.

He didn’t know that there was only one pin left to set. You did, that’s why you tried your best not to reveal it with your expression. Too early to celebrate, anyway.

“Nine... eight… seven… six… five…”

That’s when you heard a final click and you looked up from your phone, only to see the lock giving in and opening up.

“Yeah!” Neil cheered, banging a fist on the table and tossing the tools away.

You smiled, hiding the phone in the pocket. “Good job, I knew--” but before you could finish a sentence, Neil sprung up from his chair and closed the gap between you, then cupped your face with his palms and kissed you hungrily.

You froze for a second, but as your mind caught up, you kissed him back, tugging at the light blue shirt. He smiled against your lips and made you back away until you hit the wall, huffing at the sudden coldness of the surface. But he was bent on kissing you senseless until you both ended up gasping for air.

“You’re so paying for all that teasing,” he panted, running the tip of the tongue through his swollen lips. “Not to mention, you’ve given me a few fascinating ideas, and I’m very much willing to give them all a try.”

You grinned, fighting with your evidently short-circuiting brain for a grasp of coherence as his hands traveled down your body.

“My, my, all of them?”

“The night is young,” - his throaty chuckle sent a wave of heat through your body - “and I’m up for a challenge.”

“I’m counting on it,” you breathed, burying your fingers in his hair, and pulling him into a kiss again.

Actually, the challenge started right away, and that meant getting to Neil’s place, as the company conveniently rented him a room in a nearby hotel. Walking distance, but in your current quite heated state, every distance seemed way too long. Especially when you had to keep up appearances.

At least until the elevator’s door closed behind you.

The dark gaze fixed on you. Your breaths intertwining. His bottom lip between your teeth. The five o’clock shadow under your fingertips. Your hands sliding under his shirt. His knee parting your legs. The intoxicating smell of his cologne. Your quiet moan. His tongue slipping into your mouth--

A quiet sound announced you reached your floor, and you stumbled out into the corridor, giggling, unable to keep hands and lips off each other.

Your back hit the door, barely missing the knob. Without skipping a beat, Neil reached to the pocket of his pants, then into the other one. When he tried the third one, you broke the kiss, your expression nothing but innocent.

“Looking for this?” you asked, showing him a key card.

He furrowed his brows. “Yes, thank you, I don’t know how--...” he started, but when he tried to snatch his property, you hid your hand behind your back. His jaw went slack as it dawned on him and he stared at you in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.”

He groaned.

“You’re unbelievable,” he uttered as he pulled out his wallet. “Credit card?”

“Only if you’re not overly attached to it.” The roguish lights danced in your gaze. “Especially when you’re in a hurry,” you hinted, palming over the bulge in his pants. Neil squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a moan, and you stifled a chuckle. ��Try any membership card.”

He glared at you. “You’re so in for it, you have no idea.”

“Promises, promises,” you pouted, trying not to burst into laughter at his wounded expression. “Work it.”

“Gladly, just tell me what to do.”

So you walked him through the process.

Fortunately, Neil really was a fast learner, making the door give way in no time.

“Good boy,” you hummed, and the blue eyes flared up.

He crashed his lips on yours, closing the door behind you.

Then he gave you a taste of what was coming for you.

And then some more.

And then…

...he gave you all.

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet fanfiction #neil tenet #robert pattinson #tenet #tenet fanfiction #long nights

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alexwritesfiction · 3 years

Note

Heyy bestie , I was wondering if you could write a Byler fanfiction where it's a very cold night and Mike is playing at Will's house. But it becomes very cold so Joyce insists Mike to sleep in Will's room. But Will cannot resist himself from watching Mike sleep, so he stays awake and later he cuddles Mike

I hope you'll write xx 🥺🤞

Wish I Were Heather (byler fanfic)

Read on AO3

Warnings: Fluff and a bit of Angst | Pairing: Mike Wheeler/Will Byers (otp <3) | Words: 2029 | Requested: @your-local-book-worm345

A/N: Here it is! the softest ship i can imagine, i love you for sending this in <3 hope you have a good read!

Requests closed | tag list at the end, ask to be +/-

------

“Can we play DnD now?” Will asks for the umpteenth time as Mike took a bit of a pause from his rant. He was pretty bummed about how El had dumped him. What had he done wrong, he kept asking Will. Will The Wise, for the first time in forever, had nothing to say.

He’d wanted this forever, for them to be apart so that he could have his chance. But it broke him to see his best friend sad. He couldn’t relish in joy while Mike suffered.

“Yeah, okay.” Mike said distractedly, surprising the living lights out of Will. He’d expected to hear an annoyed “not yet”.

He looked at Mike to confirm he hadn’t heard something wrong, only to see Mike already pulling the game board from under the bed. Before he could even question how it had gotten there, a strong wind thundered outside their window. Mike dropped the game, cringing at the spilt contents on the floor. He was just reaching to pick them up when Joyce’s voice filled the hallway.

“Boys, it looks like it’s going to storm tonight,” she said, concern etched on her face. It was clear she didn’t want either of them going out.

Mike looked at Will, a smile on his face. This confused Will, he couldn’t understand why Mike would be happy he wouldn’t be able to go home tonight. As much as this made hope flutter in his heart, he crushed it down as a simple occurrence.

Will thought about his chances of staying over would be over if he'd still been with El. He didn’t hate El. He really didn’t, but oh how envious he was of her. She had it all, the looks, the brains, the powers, Mike. Everything. Just for once, he wanted to see how it felt like to be her. He wished he was El, just to experience how it would be when everyone you loved, loves you back, counted you as important. He wanted to see how it felt to be in a relationship with Mike Wheeler, to be everything he wants.

“I can stay over tonight, if that’s okay, Mrs. Byers?” Mike voiced out his request, now staring hopefully at Joyce who looked conflicted. She knew Karen, as reckless as she was, cared about Mike and Joyce didn’t know if she’d be okay with the impromptu plan. She shook her thoughts away and focused on the two boys sitting on the bed with their board game yet to be played. d made will extremely sad.

Her lips curled into a genuine smile. She reminisced how long it’d been since things had almost gone back to normal and Will had finally been happy after a long time. Without thinking, she uttered a quick okay, but snapped back to reality when she heard a whoop from the curly haired boy.

Like always, Will expected Mike to leave. He'd stopped staying over at his house since some time, and made will extremely sad.

“Don’t get too excited, I still need to call Karen,” she shushed, taming them down, even though she knew he'd be staying over. The boys shrugged, grinning as they planned out their campaign. They knew she’d relent with enough sweet talk and reassurance.

Will eyed his Will The Wise costume beside his desk but dismissed it quickly. They were probably going to stop playing in just a little while. Will’s mind debated with itself. On one hand, he was delirious that Mike had decided to stay over, but he didn’t know if he'd able to stop himself from acting on his feeling for him. This night could either make him and Mike even closer, or taint their friendship, but nothing could lessen the extent of what he felt for Mike.

Joyce watched the boys for a moment, her gaze lingering a moment more on her son’s nervous face which quickly fizzled into excitement when Mike shook him to show him the game. She’d known he had some feelings for the boy next to him, but she didn’t want to ask him about it. She could see he was extremely touchy about the topics, but she was internally happy that after a long time he was in a dilemma that was actually of his own age and not about a monster being his end.

She sighed softly, leaving the room and calling the Wheelers’. Five minutes later, she was about to knock on the boys’ door when she heard deep laughing from the other side. She figured she’d let them be. She wrote out a note for them saying they could feast all they wanted from the snacks, and then slipped into a much needed peaceful slumber. She wasn't haunted by fear that night like always, but still she thought about a familiar bearded man who sacrificed himself for everything.

She still felt like he was alive, sometimes, like he was just there, trying to reach her. It was moments like these that Will knew to be there for his mother. After all, he knew very well how it was to feel like that.

“Do you want to set up another campaign?” Will asked roughly five hours later, as he slowly started to pack up the game. They’d played DnD late into the night and Mike could feel his eyes drooping heavily with sleep. He covered himself up in the stretched out part of Will’s blanket up to his nose, so that only his eyes were visible. Will was wide awake, he didn’t want to miss a single moment with Mike. Not when this was probably the only time he had Mike all to himself, even for just a while.

“No, I think I'm going to pass out,” Mike groaned, facing the other side, away from Will. Will smiled at how adorable he looked, all wrapped up and about to sleep. A gentle smile spread on his as he quietly watched him. A few beats passed and Mike’s eyes finally closed of their own accord, only to open a second later. His body jerked as he slowly sat up once again. Will frowned as Mike looked at him, and it was different. He looked at him with so much intensity it scared Will.

Mike still had the blanket wrapped around him as he stared into Will’s eyes, biting his lip nervously. He heaved a breath and Will could barely keep his restraint from crushing Mike into his arms, but he didn’t have to, because in the next two seconds, Mike had his arms wrapped Will, enveloping him like he'd never want to let go. He buried his face into Will’s neck and inhaled softly. Will was as still as a statue, not quite comprehending what just happened.

The warmth radiating off of Mike snapped him out of his trance and he hugged him back, with loose hands at first but as soon as he felt Mike’s small smile on his neck, he returned the embrace with just as much force. He felt at home, they both did. It felt to Will as if heaven had come own to greet him as he barely helped himself from choking up. He rested his head softly against Mike’s shoulder, his small frame completely lost in Mike’s lanky posture.

They sat there for god knows how long, just breathing each other in. The moon watched over them as a few silent moments passed, the sounds of their breathing creating a serene atmosphere in the room.

“This is nice,” Will finally managed to voice, still not letting go of his grip on Mike. It felt too real, and he wanted to dream so bad that maybe Mike did reciprocate his feelings. He wanted to dream of being with him, holding hands, sharing everything with him, being more than just friends. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, he couldn’t while Mike was still tangled into him. So he didn’t, deciding to just let the moment be.

Mike hummed in agreement to Will’s comment. His hands on Will tightened again before he took a long breath and whispered words into the air that would be the breaking of Will Byers.

“I'm sorry,”

Will frowned at the words, chest aching as he realized why he'd said it. But Mike could feel the confusion radiating off of him.

“For what I said that day in the rain. I didn’t mean it. I'm sorry, Will. I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have pushed you away just because I found a girl. You were so right. I love her, but she could never make me feel the way you do. She’d never be the same as what your friendship means to me, Will.” Mike uttered out in a small voice, as he realized just how true it were. Will was more precious to him than anyone. He'd always felt like he was Wil’s protective shield, and he loved being it. He loved how Will trusted him, how he could feel free with him, everything.

“Mike-” he tried to say, but Mike cut him off.

“I missed you,” Mike said, almost breaking from the comfort he felt in that moment, finally saying the words he'd wanted to as soon as he'd stepped into Will’s house. The force of his words shattered Will, and he drew in a shaky breath before retracting his arms from Mike’s neck. Mike tensed, fearing he’d said something to push him away but relaxed into Will’s touch as soon as he clutched his arms around Mike’s torso, his head now gently resting just near his heart. It didn’t feel awkward at all, rather just deepening the bond between them.

“I missed you too,” Will whispered into Mike’s warmth and he barley caught it because of how inaudibly he spoke. His feeble voice showed how vulnerable he felt, as he held onto Mike for dear life.

They let a minute pass before Mike finally ended the hug, Will wanting for it to last forever. He reluctantly straightened up, giving Mike a small smile as he watched a large grin appear on his face. He looked at Will with pure adoration shining in his eyes.

He grabbed Will, bringing him in for one last hug that only lasted barely three seconds before pulling away and slowly compelling the smaller boy to sleep. He muttered a soft goodnight as he turned to the other side once again, making sure to leave half of the blanket for Will.

Will chuckled, shaking his head as he watched him sleep. In no time, soft snores escaped Mike, making Will smile at how much he felt comfortable with him. He observed Mike’s sleeping form. How his chest rose and fell gently, how there was a crease between his eyebrows, how his lips were in a pout, how is cheeks were a little more chubby, how he looked like an angel resting.

He slid down beside him, wrapping himself in the rest of the blanket. He closed his eyes for a second as if to gain confidence. Without thinking, he intertwined his hand between Mike’s side and his hand resting on his side, so that now he has circling his waist, impossibly close. Will’s eyes snapped towards Mike’s face to see if the sudden action had woken him up. His heart melted with cuteness and relief as Mike slept just as heavy.

Will dared to do something he'd longed to do, feeling brave. He pulled Mike close so that his face was less than a centimetre away from his curls, his body pressed up against Mike’s back. His hand tightened its grip on Mike, but careful to not hurt him. His legs tangled with Mike’s under the warm blanket. He never would have thought in a million years that he'd get to be big spoon with Mike, that he'd get to caress his cheek like he was now.

He couldn’t quit describe how he was feeling, just that it was something that he never wanted to stop. He finally felt like he belonged, right there cuddled up to Mike. He felt loved, he felt comfortable in his own skin, with Mike. And he couldn’t be more grateful.

----

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#wish i were heather #stranger things fanfic #my works #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #am writing #byler #mike wheeler #will bylers #stranger things

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 3

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it’s own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You’re Peter’s classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you’re lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Peter always unapologetically stealing all the uwus. It’s the MCU law, sorry, didn’t make it. Tony Stark can ✨rail me✨. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves THE WORLD! I’m not kidding. Please visit her and show her some love, my homegirl is stressed 💖✨

I didn’t see Bruce nor Tony for a week. The doctor was away on some science conference (he sent me one dorky selfie next to a whiteboard full of barely intelligible equations as proof), Tony was in California, having some sort of a board meeting. How do I know? Peter, out of lack of better things to do, constantly texted me updates on his science patron’s whereabouts and what-abouts.

In times like these, it took me for a loop - I was on a first name basis with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. In the beginning, I was intimidated - I avoided them both like the plague and tinkered in the lab with headphones on whenever I could, until Tony made a comment so snarky I couldn’t resist joking back. That’s not to say Bruce was a social butterfly, but even he gave into my tomfoolery after seeing me stand calmly throughout several of Tony’s hissy fits.

What amazed me even more so was that despite Tony being literally an insufferable little brat, I still longed after him. Sure, the man was hot as hell - but his physical traits were much less significant when it came to my feelings towards him than the amount of sheer drive and willpower he possessed. He was stubborn - that’s another trait we shared - and unapologetically himself in every damn situation.

I could write poetry about the million expressions in his face, about the shine in his eyes.

But I won’t. He’s a technical guru. Ever since I started hanging around the tower, I became much more conscious about what I posted online. Not to say I had a Stark fan blog or anything, but I’d stopped scrolling through the tag, even if I didn’t actually click on any articles. I dutifully reblogged pictures of Tom Ellis instead - while he was a very fine, distinguished man, he wasn’t Tony Stark. I enjoyed looking at the first and enjoyed being around the other. And even though my feed still had the occasional “I love arm” shitpost, I focused on aesthetic pictures and quotes instead - things I had an active internet presence for.

My personal life wasn’t very interesting. I didn’t have any close friends and any and all sex I’ve had was just a bunch of one night stands, fueled by alcohol, selfish lust and the occasional joint. Despite having a fair share of kind, generous lovers, the morning after left me feeling a little bit emptier every time. I thought about getting a boyfriend or something… But quickly became totally clueless as to where I could find one. Men under twenty-five could barely hold my interest long enough to have a casual chat and I wasn’t naive enough to think there were a lot of honest, well-intentioned thirty-somethings that wanted to date my high school ass.

Peter had a crush on me, I knew that. The boy developed one or another kind of feelings for anybody who showed him the tiniest bit of kindness and it alarmed me. In any other case I would have bailed on him, gently, of course, to spare him the disappointment but my selfishness got in the way. I regretted it every day. A wave of desperation rose in me every time I thought about moving on without seeing Tony or Bruce, without Peter shyly smiling at me as he explained how the things he created worked. A faint hope that one day, his schoolboy puppy love will grow into a brotherly kind of regard was the only thing that kept me afloat in my sea of guilt.

As the Fall rolled around, so did my gloomy mood. It was hard to be sad when the sun was shining and the birds were chirping outside, but with clouds hanging over the city like a lead curtain, the bottled up negativity rose to the surface uninvited. Mother had returned from her business trip, adding an uncomfortable, hollow sort of chill to the house wherever she stood. I don’t know what was worse - the hours we spent in one room ignoring each other or the immaculately structured questions she asked me about my studies and extra-curriculars. Mother didn’t ask me about my friends, or my feelings or any of the other things a mother was supposed to give a damn about.

I was an asset to her company and that was that. If you would have asked her, she would tell you I’m old enough for her to mind her own business - which was technically true. Yet according to her, I’ve been old enough since seventh grade. My dad answered his messages sporadically, sometimes with a two-word answer and sometimes with a cocaine and booze fueled rant eleven texts long. I felt sorry for him. I really did.

My phone was blowing up. Party invitations, likes from people I saw once or twice (“oh my god, you’re, like, so hot, what’s your Insta”), DMs from guys looking to score an easy piece of ass. I never answered. If I wanted to party, I just sort of showed up and everybody went along with it. I took care of my appearance and it showed - never once was I turned away from a party. Everyone wanted to dance, to share their drinks, to light up and get faded together and fade into the city, into the cold air and grey sky.

Skirt swaying and top clinging to my chest, I danced. The sweaty, heated bodies around me did the same. Not one of us cared, it was a Tuesday night and the place packed way too many people. An arm snaked around my waist, startling me. I had to begrudgingly crack open an eye to see the bastard in the dimly lit room.

“I saw you at the bar, you looked bored. Maybe you need something to cheer you up?”

So not a creepy rapist. Just your friendly neighborhood drug dealer. At house parties like these, there was always The Guy. He never danced, he sipped on the same drink all night yet always looked like he was having the time of his life. I was no stranger to the occasional joint, or even something more stimulating…

“I got the good stuff, sweetums, you’ll be fine and dandy in no time.”

Eh, what the hell. I inconspicuously danced with the guy to the middle of the crowd, exchanging a few crumpled dollar notes for a baggie of two pills. In no time, I chased one down with a hastily poured Jack.

The world did become better, as the drug dealer promised. People were nicer, friendlier and I almost didn’t believe mother was a useless, stone cold bitch. I almost didn’t care that I was deeply, madly in love with a man as unreachable as Olympus. If I squinted, the guy sitting at the bar looked kind of like Tony, tan, dark hair, worn jeans and a band tee.

So I danced. I danced and I stared right at him and then we danced some more. I closed my eyes, letting his arms grab me and pull me, I let his beard scratch my neck where he sucked a mark on me, I let his rough palms choke me against a wall in one of the bedrooms on the second floor of the house. It felt good to be wanted. It felt great to be needed as he rutted inside of me, hitting that sweet spot with every twitch of his hips.

It felt lonely when he left, pressing a kiss to my forehead and saying something dumb like “Be good, kid.”. I don’t remember what exactly it was, only that I had to turn my face away from his breath that reeked like weed and vodka.

To shake off the void that made home inside of my chest, I went to the roof to get some fresh air. The house had a nice patio on it - I actually knew the owner - that hosted more plants than I’d care to count. There was an ashtray and an abandoned pack of cigarettes. I greeted the faintly blooming sunrise surrounded by a cloud of smoke, shivering in the autumn mist.

Sounds of the party became less prominent with every passing minute as people geared up to go home and get a few winks of sleep before going to work. New Yorkers weren’t really thoughtful partying on a Tuesday, but then again, neither was I. The city always was busy - even then, at the crack of dawn, the dull throb of a bassline was rudely interrupted by a blaring car alarm followed by dogs barking in aggravation.

The more I sat there, the bleaker everything became. I had enough common sense to know I was just coming off the drug but for once, I had been happy and content for several hours without a care in the world. It had been too long since I felt that way and what’s a little low after a good high?

Mother left for her early conference at five AM sharp, I entered my house at five-thirty, making a beeline in the shower and immediately dumping my alcohol and cigarette soaked clothes into the wash with the smelliest detergent I could find. I gave similar treatment to my body and my hair, using the chemically-smelling products on my body and on my hair, brushing my teeth multiple times.

By the time I was leaving for school, only a faint smell lingered in the air where I’d previously entered, so I set the air freshener to automatically spray the obnoxious mist every ten minutes. Mother gets home at twelve for lunch, that should be more than enough time for any remnants of my partying to disappear into the lilac and lavender fumes.

The Valium I’d popped to deal with the aftermath of Molly made my brain sluggish. One look in the mirror and I hastily put my sunglasses on - the ashen colour of my face and the slightly crazed look wasn’t very complimentary to my complexion. The teacher didn’t give a damn. I stared blankly ahead of me for most part of first period.

“What happened to you? You look like hell!” Peter’s exclamation, while usually would’ve alarmed me, barely made a dent in my stupor.

“I feel like shit, too,” Admit what you can’t deny. Deny what you can’t admit. “I didn’t get any sleep. Like, at all.”

Peter frowned, the crease between his eyebrows growing deeper with every passing second. I flinched when his hand tentatively touched my forehead - the pounding in my temples slowed to a dull throbbing but it was still unpleasant when someone was all up in my space.

“Jesus, you’re as cold as a corpse. Maybe you should go see the nurse,” His worry bled into me too. Like hell I was going to the school nurse! They were specifically trained to recognize the signs of substance abuse.

“I’ll head home straight after school, I think we’ll have to skip our sciencing,” No way also I’d be letting Tony and Bruce see me like this. Oh my God, I was a mess. “Mother’s home.” I added. Even the emotional frostbite I’d get from being around her was more tolerable than being a downer for Peter and Tony.

Peter’s face immediately softened in sympathy. He knew almost everything about my relationship with my family, including him actually seeing my mother that one time. He told me she gave him the creeps and I don’t blame him at all. The stoicism that was required for her work made my mother an unbearable person to exist around outside of her fancy office on the top floor of a glass high-rise building.

“Okay, but promise to text me if it gets worse. You might have caught the autumn bug that’s been going around,” He obviously said the last part to calm himself down. Sweet little Peter, naïve child. I solemnly nodded nonetheless.

When I got home, I went straight to bed. Tony was being Tony, as usual, but in a strangely kind way. I suppose it should’ve made me feel better and it kind of did, but then it went downhill from there. I couldn’t explain why I started crying. I bawled my eyes out at how unfair this god-damned world was and when the doorbell rang… Let’s say, the delivery boy hightailed it out of there once the bag of takeout was deposited into my arms. I looked and felt ghastly.

I ate as much as I could and dropped into a restless nap, drifting in and out of sleep with exhausted exasperation. There had not been a time where I felt so low after popping a pill and I was equal parts alarmed and satisfied. For one, the drug dealer didn’t lie like they usually do - the stuff was good and I still had the other pill hidden away in a bottle of painkillers, inconspicuously mixed with other white pills but shape distinctive enough for me to recognize should I have need in taking it again.

The thought of well, taking it again, was fleeting. I had school tomorrow and a missed science bender to make up for. A few buzzes of my phone later, I felt happier. Better. Not so down anymore. I meant every word that I said - Bruce was very precious, kind and gentle. And so, warm and soft. And totally kissable.

Well, fuck. What do I do now?

#bun writes #party favours #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #I've already got a room in Hell y'all welcome to book one nearby

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