#if you think of yourself so lowly maybe go figure out your own issues

[local-moonbat]

Absolutely fucking appalled at the discourse on this site recently

[multifandomgrabage]

Random and non cohesive HB thoughts, particularly season 2:

I don’t condone or support Stella’s actions, but I am very disappointed in how she is written. Im fine with her being a villain, and I’ll even let a lack of a backstory slide! My main issues with Stella are:

A) Being 1 dimensional. Please, give her traits outside of “bitch” and “angry at Stolas”. The majority of the fan base already is (somehow) in support of Stolitz, you don’t need another prop to keep your ship going. (subpoint to a): Also, not a fan of the “wife finds out that her husband is queer” trope, but whatever, she is a villain. Its pretty fucking basic though.

B) Her lines. My fucking gosh, her lines are so fucking flat and weightless. You’d think that something an abuser says would stick and sound intimidating, but no. We get “I LiKe ToRmEnTiNg YoU”. For fucks sake, what was that?! As someone who grew up with an abusive mother, I can confidently say that no one will say that. Its like they didnt respect their ADULT audience enough to figure things out and felt they had to have a giant ass neon sign screaming

“LOOK HERE, THIS IS ABUSIVE, SHE SAID SHE LIKES HURTING HIM! A-B-U-S-E! NOW GO AND FORGET ABOUT ANY TERRIBLY TOXIC THINGS STOLAS OR BLITZO HAVE DONE”

Clearly the show is meant for adult audiences. We don’t need to be told what is and isn’t abuse. Why not do a little something called “show vs tell”? Some alright examples they have previously done are the portraits usually having just Stolas and Octavia, or a pissed Stella. Or seeing how she threw a fucking imp butler across the room.

I got a bit off topic, but here are some ways id probably write her:

A narcissist. To the outside world, she is friendly Stella, who just likes to party and smile. She has a perfect family, and everyone loves her. But under the surface, in order to feel superior she puts Stolas down constantly, through verbal abuse and perhaps some physical. Her love for Octavia is conditional, she is only pleased as long as everyone is doing everything to her command. All this possibly stems from an inferiority complex that she desperately covers through a high ego, false confidence and making sure others feel lesser to her.

Some possible lines?:

“You are nothing without me. You think you can make it on your own without me? You cant even take care of Octavia, what makes you think you can handle yourself”

“You would choose a lowly imp over me? I guess I shouldn’t have expected more from someone as low as you”

“You don’t even deserve to have me, consider yourself lucky that I am willing to stay”

“You look so damn stupid like that, singing in your self pity. Had you stuck with me, you wouldn’t have been in that position.” That or someone else mentioned Blitzo and Stella being childhood friends, her being arranged with Stolas, and then having the cheating incident

whoever had that idea is a genius.

C: Why is her design so damn good? I love fancy pigeons and they made her a fancy pigeon. (this isn’t a complaint but a thought)

Moving on from Stella, lets get to S2 E2…

I was so excited to have an episode where it wasn’t the Stolitz shipping show. I got my hopes too high. The one positive thing Ill say is that I enjoyed the adoption flashback. Maybe I read too much into it but it feels kind of like a commentary in how shitty the adoption system is, especially to teenagers. Any kid really, as they’re treated like literal dogs, and then kicked out on the street.

Back to me complaining about shit:

For one, why did we spend so much fucking tome in that stupid ass sitcom? If Stolas is such a caring dad, shouldn’t he just leave and look for Octavia? So much character growth could have happened in that time.

I know that Loona didn’t just tell Octavia to just deal with her dad neglecting her just because “he’s trying”. Its HIS responsibility as a parent to take care of his kid, and Octavia has every right to be upset st him and her circumstances. Her parents have been unstable, but after a divorce, even more so. Her dad has straight up ignored her, in favor of arguing with Stella. She did nothing wrong and has nothing to apologize for. I got so excited when Stolas started to apologize, but then Octavia apologized.

Did I mention that there was 4 minutes of Octavia and Loona together at most? Despite the thumbnail? Yeah, that blowed.

Honestly the only reason I keep up anymore is because of the animation and the weak dying hope that it’ll get better.

thats all ig, please don’t be rude in the comments. You can disagree but keep it civil. Going to bed now, bye

EDIT: So Imma randomly add a brainbarf of thoughts here too, because I do not feel like organizing shit. My brain's thoughts just expand everywhere, so bare with me.

Another reason why Stella's abuse doesn't really land is because Stolas just... doesn't seem afraid of her at all? For someone who claims to love tormenting someone, she sure is doing a shitty job at it. The way that Stolas would just have the balls (or cloaca ig) to keep going out using Blitz, worry free despite his wife doesn't give the vibes of "Victim of Domestic violence, verbal and physical abuse" to me.

To continue on why her abuse doesn't land, it has to do with the nature of this show and how it portrays stuff. It gets very confusing. Loona assaulting Blitz, Blitz and Asmodeus (on separate occasions) touching Moxie's groin area (without consent) and Multiple characters using slurs against Moxie is supposedly "funny".

Personally I don't find it humorous, but I do get somewhat jaded and desensitized to stuff like that happening. Not to say that it's acceptable behavior, but you do kind of get used to it and take it a little less seriously in the context. In S1E2 Stella is seen screaming and throwing shit around. This *can* be seen as portrayal of abuse, but given that many characters do similar shit it can also be seen as another unfunny attempt at humor.

Fast forward to season 2, if you've lasted that long you should expect some edgy shit like that to be written in a way that tries to excuse it. But all of a sudden, we get "Actually, abuse is bad. Feel bad for Stolas because he is abused by his wife. Yeah, we constantly make our characters do abusive things too, but it's funny when they do it, just ignore it and feel bad for Sad Gay Owl Man."

What? The fuck? Is the deal with powers, especially human disguises? Initially I thought that maybe only Succubi and Incubi, as well has hellhounds had the power because some hellborns are more powerful than others. How would that work if Hellhounds are below Imps in the hierarchy though? By that logic, shouldn't Imps also get that power? So that idea doesn't work. I don't fucking know why or how any of this works. Theres no storybuilding or explanation for it. For something that appears so often, I think there should be. The purpose of a human disguise is to blend in among the human world, so I can see Succubi/Incubi having that power because I'd assume they're some of the only demons allowed to go to the human world. I wouldn't know why a hellhound would come to Earth, but I guess they just have the power too?

Speaking of rules about demons on Earth that weren't explained!

Stolas is able to summon himself in some big scary owl demon form without his book ANYWHERE near him in "Truth Seekers". Yet in S2E2 he can only conjure up a poorly designed human form because now his powers are attached to the book? HUH?! Where is the consistency?

Also, given that IMP is big enough to get a commercial, how have they not gotten in trouble for breaking what I assume is one of hell's only rules? We know that they aren't supposed to be there, and yet this seems to have no consequence? Having them have to try and fly below the radar in hell would raise stakes a lot more imo.

But whatever, fuck the rules, because there are none!

______________________________________________________

Unrelated rambles, but still kind of relevant and similar? I just don't want to make a separate post.

I don't like Andrealphus' design. It's way too bright and saturated and honestly has my eyes strain a lot, despite not being red. I kinda wanna redesign him. Also I feel like he's gonna be yet another gay stereotype, which is always fun to have /s.

Lucifer's design is underwhelming. Not necessarly because the design is bad on its own, but because of two things:

A) Too many characters look like that. We have too many skinny white Tumblr Sexyman Twinks. We have too many characters with that copy paste smile. Too many characters in suits. He just doesn't stand out. This leads me to my next point.

B) His design doesn't say "Lucifer, King and Ruler of Hell, Fallen Angel". It says "Generic Vivziepop Snarky Guy with a quirky interest". BEFORE SOME OF YALL START SAYING "B-but ackshually he pwobably haz a more dwemwonic fowm 🤓", respectfully, no. I feel that the leader of hell should have a default design that commands some kind of respect out of fear, it doesn't have to be crazy, but it should be intimidating, and stand out. What kind of king just blends into a crowd of his own people? Especially in a fantasy? This is fiction, and there is no reason to hold back and not try something new. In fact, 90% of the characters being skinny could actually be used as an advantage, because then you could just make Lucifer's bodyshape different from the default and he'd already stand out much more.

Fuck it, two redesigns coming up. When I'm done I'll link them here.

[mypoisonedvine]

claimed || alpha!Andy Barber x reader

summary: an interrogation with an alpha is no place to have an unexpected heat.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut (dub con; the reader goes into heat and can’t think clearly enough to say no), a/b/o dynamics, loss of virginity, mentions of misogyny/discrimination against omegas, vague noncon and violence references, kinda housewife kink, possessiveness, breeding kink, praise, overstimulation, knotting, slight bondage (reader is handcuffed), slight pain kink, implied/subtle age gap, pregnancy mention at the end, kinda soft!dark andy but he's really not that dark

"This would be a lot easier for both of us if you started telling the truth."

You chewed your lip, looking away from the man across from you; it was impossible to keep eye contact when his gaze bore into you like that, when he gave you that stern, dominating look.

Andy Barber was so obviously an alpha, he was one of those types that just reeked of it. Figuratively— with the way he towered over you, his masculine body and strong features— but also literally considering his scent was filling the room now: pine, cinnamon, sage, and something a little bit sweet that made your mouth water.

It made sense for an alpha like him to have a high-powered, high-pressure career like this; he probably got a real kick out of squeezing information out of scared betas who couldn’t stand up to him.

And that was the role you were going to play now, because he was wrong: it would not be easier if you told the truth. If he knew what you really were, you’d be doomed.

You’d been hiding successfully as a beta for a long time by now, and you weren’t about to give it up now, even if it would likely have the charges against you dismissed. Omegas lived sheltered, oppressed lives; sought constantly by alphas, they had their pick of the finest since omegas were so rare, but until mated they were extremely vulnerable— and afterwards they were usually made to be subservient housewives, constantly bearing children as a consequence of their extreme fertility.

Maybe some omegas were okay with that, plenty probably loved that lifestyle since it was sort of the instinctual habit of an omega by nature, but not you. Never you. You wanted a life, a real life, your own life as more than an alpha’s mate. Thankfully you’d found the right mix of suppressants and perfumes to hide your scent, the right work schedule so you could always be home for your rare heats, and voila: to the rest of the world, you were a beta.

Being a beta meant being unnoticed, unacknowledged, never pursued and never courted. And that was exactly how you wanted it.

If Andy Barber knew that the man you’d stabbed was an alpha trying to force himself on you, there was a chance he would understand that it was self-defense and let you go. Then again, a lot of alphas seemed to think that being forced to mate was just par for the course for an omega; surely Andy wouldn’t be one of those types, as a man of the law, right?

“I can’t,” you finally answered.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he assured, some of his anger shifting to a soothing tone. It really did calm you down; he must have been using his ‘alpha voice’ on you, and the fact that it worked should’ve been a red flag but you didn’t notice. “Let’s start from the beginning. You said you were at home but no one has confirmed your alibi. You said you didn’t know the victim but you obviously reacted when I showed you his picture. And, you said you weren’t there at the time of the murder but we found your DNA on the body.”

A little smile pulled at the corner of your lips, exactly not the reaction Andy had been expecting. “You’re lying,” you whispered.

He tensed up as you called his bluff. The DNA found at the scene was in the process of being analysed, sure, but it would be weeks until the results came back. “How can you be so sure?” he pressed.

“Because I.  Wasn’t. There,” you hissed, glaring back at him; he shook his head solemnly..

“No, that’s not it. I can tell when you’re lying, too, you know,” he warned.  “Tell me how you know I don’t have your DNA at the scene?”

“Because… because…” you breathed, blinking a few times as the room started to get warmer. Your head was spinning, your thighs clenched together— and when Andy reached out to rest his hand on yours and ask if you were alright, his touch sent it all into overdrive.

No, no, it wasn't your time yet. It shouldn't have come for a few more days, and you’d arranged to be bailed out tomorrow so you’d go into your cycle safely at home and not in jail. But now it was beginning and you had no way to stop it. Had the smell of an alpha really been enough to start your heat early?

Andy watched you start to pant and sweat with a furrowed brow, unsure what he was witnessing because he’d never had the opportunity to see it before. His ex-wife had been a beta, he'd never even met an omega before— they were quite rare after all.

But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in instinct; his body told him everything he needed to know about what he was seeing. “Omega,” he growled lowly, watching your whole body erupt into shivers at the timbre of his voice.

As far as alphas go, Andy was relatively level-headed, not as preoccupied with instinctual desires to dominate, to claim, to impregnate. A lot of alphas viewed mating with a beta as settling, although it was the much more likely outcome, statistically speaking. Andy, though, never really saw it that way, even knowing how much harder it would be to have a child with a beta. Their fertility was significantly weaker, both the males and the females, and Jacob was the product of years of trying; in all their marriage him and Laurie had never used any contraceptives and she only got pregnant the once.

But an omega? Especially a young one like you? He could knock you up right now, if he wanted. That power was intoxicating. It was exactly what he never knew he needed so badly.

“I don’t need the results of your DNA to know what you are,” he explained firmly. “I can’t believe I didn’t know before— you must have tried really hard to keep it a secret, little one. You must be so afraid of who you are… and who I am, for that matter.  It must scare you to imagine what I could do to you.”

You whimpered, the noise tugging his heart in conflicting directions; to comfort you, or to make you do it again.

“I���m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think,” he assured. “Not if I can help it…”

Honestly, he wasn’t so sure he would be able to help it; he felt his own sanity slipping as he watched you writhe and cry, instinct overtaking logic in the both of you.

"Alpha, please," you shuddered, the title making his cock harden instantly, uncomfortably filling the trousers of his suit.

"You smell so good," he purred, taking his jacket off as he stood up to cool off a bit. "I can smell your heat, Omega. I bet everyone in the building can—” he glanced to the locked door— “but I'm the only one here."

"Need you," you whined, tugging on the handcuffs that kept you bound to the table.

"Stand up, bend over," he commanded, and he'd barely finished speaking when you'd already done it, bent at the hips with your forearms resting on the table as you waited for him. "Good girl."

He rolled up his sleeves and took his place behind you, caging his body in with yours, nuzzling into your neck to get a deep breath of your scent.

"Fuck, so sweet," he groaned. "Waited so long for this. To feel an Omega on my cock. Never thought it would really happen. Has an Alpha ever taken you before?"

"No, I never… no."

"Not just unclaimed but a virgin. Christ, am I dreaming?"

But he was too far gone to take any more time to appreciate his luck— he needed you now, and he was taking you all for himself.

If he wasn't so overcome with need he wouldn't have thought to tear your clothes off, but now he didn't even think to question the idea, shedding you of your clothes like they were made of paper until you were completely exposed to him, your wet core vulnerable while another wave of your sweet scent filled the room.

"Look at all this," he grinned, kneeling down to lap at your folds and taste your slick. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your channel craving to be filled. "All for me, Omega?"

"Yours, it's all yours…"

"Doesn't it feel good to be claimed, little one? To be owned?"

"S-so good," you agreed. "Want your knot, Alpha. Want your mark."

A growl echoed in his chest when you said that, and he craved nothing more than to bite your neck and bond you to him for life.

But, it would be better if he saved that for a little later.

He stood up again and gave your ass a quick slap— nothing too rough, just enough to make you yelp all cute and whiny— before grabbing your hips to pull them back into his. You gasped and pushed back onto him, shamelessly rubbing yourself against the thick outline of his cock.

"Gonna make a mess on me with all that slick, Omega," he growled, but it was by no means discouragement.

"Want it in me, please," you sobbed. Unable to resist your begging anymore, he hastily opened his belt and fly, sighing with relief when he wrapped his hand around his cock and pulled it out. Your whole body visibly quaked when he swiped the swollen head through your folds, coating himself in your plentiful arousal.

Without any further warning, he pushed his cock in with a loud moan, a cry tearing from your throat as he tore into your body. "Shh," he soothed as his fingers rubbed your spine, "that's my girl, that's my pretty Omega."

But pain wasn't really your issue; it hurt, yes, but what made you cry was that you were already on the edge, about to come from hardly anything. When he thrusted once, you lost it and your legs quivered as a new wave of slick started to dribble down them.

"Are you coming?" he asked darkly.

You could only nod, biting your lip to try to keep from moaning too loudly.

"Oh my god…" he groaned, amazed at how sensitive you were. Clearly he wasn't the only one realizing how powerful and incredible it could be when an alpha and omega mated.

He started to really pound into you then, each brutal thrust knocking you forward.

"Feels good when you come for me, Omega. Do it again."

You couldn't help yourself; his voice had complete control over your body, his words a command you were helpless to resist. With a broken whimper you came again, walls squeezing his cock in a weak and stuttered rhythm.

"It's better than they say it is. Even better than I imagined. So fucking good," he sighed. It felt so right, that was the thing. It felt like your body was made to be claimed and owned by him.

"Want your knot," you whined, "please, Alpha—"

"If I give you my knot, you're mine. My Omega. You will never allow another Alpha to touch you. You will not speak to another Alpha, look at another Alpha, even Betas are off-limits. When I bite you, you'll be bonded to me and become my wife, you'll never disobey me or leave me. When I knot you, you'll give me a child. Is all of that perfectly clear?"

It was everything you'd wanted to avoid just an hour ago. Now it was your greatest dream come true. "Yes, Alpha. Yours, Alpha."

"Want to be bred, Omega? Bred by your Alpha?"

"Please!" you sobbed.

"Then keep coming and I'll let you have it soon," he promised. "I'll give you all my come like you need so badly."

You whimpered as your walls seemed to try to suck him in deeper, gripping him so tight that it made his head spin. Orgasm after orgasm washed over you, too many and too numb to count, each part of you slowly stripped away and replaced with pure, all-consuming pleasure.

The base of his cock began to swell and you mewled proudly— that is, until, it just kept growing and you couldn't imagine taking anymore.

"P-pull it out," you begged instead.

"I told you that you would take my knot, was I not clear?"

But you hadn't realized how big it would get, how far it would stretch you— and it was still going. "It hurts, Alpha, please!"

"You'll get used to it, gonna keep it in you all night and give it to you every day so you'll have plenty of practice. Take my fucking knot while I come inside you and breed your cunt."

When his knot finally grew to its full potential, streams of hot come began to fill you, deeper than you had ever imagined possible. It was overwhelming, apparently unending, and one final orgasm rocked your body as you milked his cock for all it was worth.

He wrapped his arms around your body, holding you close and soothing you as you shivered and cried, his kisses trailing up your shoulder to your neck where, finally, he sunk his teeth into your skin and left his mark on you.

Your walls quivered around him at the feeling of being claimed, mated for life. In that moment you didn't notice or care that it was to a man you barely knew; he was your Alpha now, that was all that mattered.

He kissed and licked over the sensitive bitemark, whispering praises your ringing ears couldn't quite process yet.

At least you were getting bailed out a day early.

//

Andy kept his promise about exactly how owned you would be. For the first few months you didn't even leave the house, he was too busy filling you with his cock every day. Although he was happy to claim you anywhere he happened to find you— the shower where he hopped in randomly, the kitchen where he bent you over the counter, the living room where he pinned you onto the couch— his favorite place was the bed. It was rougher and more animalistic in the other places, but in bed he was possessive in an entirely different way.

"My wife, my sweet little wife," he whispered in your ear as he slowly thrust all the way into you, making your back arch until your chest pushed against his. "My Omega. All mine."

"Yours," you agreed.

The protectiveness increased tenfold when your scent changed during pregnancy, even more when you started showing; he was obsessed with the way you looked full of his baby.

As for you, omega life was better than you'd expected. At times you felt smothered by him, but simultaneously you felt worshipped and loved like you never thought you could deserve. He certainly spoiled you, though he expected your unwavering loyalty in return.

That part was easy, though. Love, not fear, kept you in check when other alphas had a wandering eye. They knew you were mated, the bitemark scar (which Andy never, ever let you cover) and ring (which Andy never, ever let you take off) were sign enough along with the change in your scent to them. Occasionally one would shoot his shot and get unilaterally rejected by you before getting his ass kicked by your husband. If only they knew what you'd done to the last alpha that tried to creep on you; how you met Andy in the first place.

In the end, maybe it wasn't so bad to fall into your instincts, your natural role in society. Andy sure made it pretty enjoyable with the way he brought you to the height of pleasure over and over every night. "Mine," he promised you in deep whispers, "from the moment I saw you."

[neopuppy]

Dive Into You: Part 2. (M)

Preview: “You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. You should be thanking me nono.”

Pairing: brothers Jeno/Haechan x female reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Genre: pwp, church boys AU, smut, love triangle, brothers nohyuck

Warning: daddy issues, sacrilegious themes, explicit language, master manipulator Haechan, innocent Jeno, virgin reader, corruption, bible quotes

Smut Warning: oral(F receiving), slight sensory deprivation, fingering, all in church.

Intro—>

Part 1–>

“I told the new family in town that you’d be showing their daughter around boys. I expect you to be on your best behavior.” Pastor Lee slaps a hand over Jeno’s shoulder with a firm grip. “No funny business.”

“You got it, father. You know, like because you’re a pastor.” Haechan snorts, pouring hot steaming coffee into a ceramic mug.

“Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious. Make sure your brother acts right. People around town are already talking enough about my atrocious parenting skills. Word travels fast in these small towns you know.” Pastor Lee adjusts his tie in the mirror. Stepping out of the front door with not even a wave goodbye. Jeno left rubbing at his shoulder with irritation.

“What time do you want to head out?” He questions, eyes burning into Haechans back.

“Oh, I can’t do that ‘show the new townies’ around thing today. Got a brunch date in the next town over with someones mom.” Haechan turns, leaned back along the kitchen counter blowing steam from his coffee.

“What?? She’s your girlfriend now. Aren’t you supposed to hang out with her tonight?” Jeno’s eyes widen befuddled. More in disbelief his brother would be two timing you, familiar with his antics.

“Your point?” Haechan scoffs, checking messages through his phone. Petty smirk on his lips sending you a ‘miss you’ text.

“You’re a dog. You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. Should be thanking me nono.”

“Dick..” Jeno mutters, grabbing his bag to head out. Not wanting to spend another minute around his brother.

“Wait a minute..” Haechan grabs a hold on Jeno’s arm, pulling him back into the kitchen. “Take good care of my girl today yea?” Jeno’s eyes squint as his brother sneaks a $20 bill into his side jacket pocket.

“Maybe get her a milk shake or something. Whatever it is you kids drink. We’re not really going on a date tonight if you know what I mean.” Haechans eyes shift around mischievously. Knowing damn well Jeno knows. Knowing exactly what to say to get under his skin.

Jeno grips at Haechans collar, huffing against his face. Anger seething through fingertips aching to bring his brother physical pain. Jaw tightening, resisting the deep urge inside building for years everyday.

“Gonna give me a black eye nono? What will father think when he finds out his bad seed is also abusive?” Lips curling with a slick grin. Haechan the expert on how to push Jeno’s buttons. Worked on himself well to get exactly what he wants.

“That’s what you want isn’t it?” Jeno clenches the fabric between his fist, arms shaking with rage. “You’re the perfect one, I’m the fuck up. You’re the one dad brags about, I’m the one he pretends doesn’t exist.”

“You think your daddy issues would get your little church girl turned on? Should I tell her how you cry yourself to sleep wishing you were me?” Haechan snorts, loosening from of Jeno’s grip. Hands smoothing out his freshly ironed shirt.

“I’ve never wanted to be anything like you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true nono..” Haechan pulls on a jacket. Fingers twirling around keys. “You know how much I love my car” with a cocky wink matching a shit eating grin Haechan heads out. Leaving Jeno festering in his anger. Fists slamming against the counter. Back tense with underlying hatred, hatred for himself. Tired of how easily Haechan manages to provoke him.

——————————————————————————

Jeno’s nervous, pissed off, feeling anxious. Pacing back and forth in front of your house. He didn’t have much of a choice with the looming threat of getting shipped back off to Jesus camp hovering his mind. The idea to ditch this whole ordeal passing his thoughts more than once. It’s not that he liked you, but it’s also not necessarily that he didn’t like you. Convincing himself he just hasn’t gotten any for too long now. Dick probably desperate for anything at this point. Nothing related to how cute you looked with your lips all swollen after kissing him. Jacking off at home that night reliving the events long forgotten.

Forget about stroking himself off in the shower the next morning again. Or the other five more times since. No he didn’t like you, not really..

“Aren’t you one of Pastor Lee’s sons??” And older woman carrying bags of groceries approaches. Lipstick covering her two front teeth, over sized dress hanging from her body.

“Oh uh.. yes I am. I’m supposed to.. show your.. daughter? Around today..” Jeno stutters out, mentally slapping himself.

“Oh..” the woman adjusts a bag in her hold, throat clearing. “What about that lovely brother of yours? What’s his name again?”

“Haechan..” Jeno’s eyes shift, looking away. How did his brother manage to convince everyone he was such an angel. A modern day fallen angel, roaming earth in disguise.

“Ah that’s it..” she makes a sound of disapproval, bag dropping on the porch. “A polite young boy would have offered assistance.” Voice lowly whispering as she unlocks the front door. Jeno’s eyes darting between the groceries and woman, cursing himself yet again for coming off exactly how everyone says.

“I’ll call her down.” She steps inside. Loud shouting vocals calling out your name. The sound of foot steps against stairs following. Your figure appearing, dressed up to impress. Jeno’s throat itching, swallowing, adjusting his collar.

“That’s not your bike- is it?!” Your mothers shrieking voice questions. Eyes bulging out, taking in the sleek black motorcycle off the sidewalk.

“I’m here!” Your smile falls, only spotting one brother waiting for you outside. Not the one you’d expect even. You subtly give a look around, searching for someone else maybe hiding in surprise. Jeno unfortunately does not fail to notice.

“That is my bike Ma’m.. it’s safe. I promise.” He holds up two helmets. Craving to crawl into a hole under your moms scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m not so sure about this..” she mumbles. Eyes glaring into Jeno, trying to put the fear of God...fear of a strict crazy mother, in him.

“It’ll be fine mom! He has a helmet! I’ve been on a motorcycle with dad before!” You lean up, pecking your mothers cheek. Summer dress twirling up with air as you run forward. Jeno catching a glimpse of your underwear. Shifting a helmet over his groin momentarily.

“I thought Haechan was coming too?” You asks, taking the helmet held out for you. Typically being his brothers helmet, little did you know.

“He’s busy.. errands out of town or something.” Jeno mumbles, avoiding your eyes. He’s being weird, but then again you didn’t know him well enough to confirm he wasn’t always this way.

“Oh.. well I guess I’ll see him later anyway.” You frown, tugging at the light fabric of your dress. What a waste. “You ride a motorcycle?”

“Yea.. I don’t have a car so.. you’ve been on one before you said?” Jeno’s brows furrow. Eyes trained on your feet, teeth digging into his lower lip. You had to wear cute strappy sandals with a summer dress. That just made sense, to show off your cute freshly painted toes..Jeno’s brain feels like its turning in his skull. Lips begging for mercy to let out a scream.

“I actually haven’t. Just said that to make my mom shut up.” You lean in close. Lips grazing his earlobe as you whisper. Words muffled, Jeno blinking slowly. Perfume wafting around his head, as if this could get any worse.

“Uh..” Jeno steps away abruptly. “Put that on!” His voice awkwardly shouts to you, chin jerking toward the helmet in your hands. Head shaking, pulling on his own. Straddling around the bike seat, engine coming to life.

“Am I supposed to hold on to you?” You stand to Jeno’s side. Admiring the shining black bike, fitting for his character. At least physically.

“I..” Jeno’s breath catches under his helmet shield. Only now realizing you’ll be riding with him around today. Legs parted on him.. arms squeezing his abdomen.

“Jeno??..” you pull on your helmet with confusion. He wasn’t much for words it seemed. So opposite of his brother.

“Uh.. yea.. just hold on to me..” he sighs to himself. Sounding more displeased than intended. Uncomfortable awkwardness travels through you watching his shoulders slump. With reluctance, you lift your leg. Straddling Jeno’s back, bad day to wear a short dress..

“This is kind of..” your lips purse together, center a little too close to Jeno’s body. More than close, right on him. Cotton airy smell coming off his black jean jacket. Scent fresh and clean, hair lingering of lightly scented shampoo. His broad shoulders covering majority of your view.

“You should.. hold on tight.” Jeno licks his cracking lips. Foot kicking up the bikes lock. With another look toward your mom motioning the sign of the cross. You lean your body forward, chest pressed up on Jeno’s wide back. Arms circling around his small waist.

Jeno’s own thoughts rolling in like rapid fire. Throat squeezing in, heat between your bodies pressed together moving between his legs. Trying to focus on anything, anything but your breasts pressing into him. Anything besides your smooth thighs around him. The memory of kissing you too vividly choosing to repeat itself.

“God be with you!” Your mothers voice screams out. Bike engine too loud as Jeno rides off. Your dress blowing behind you, smile covering your face. Chin on his shoulder, admiring the view of your new home.

Could only be an even more perfect moment if it was Haechan you were wrapped around..

——————————————————————————

“That’s it? A diner? That’s the tour of the town?” You twirl around the cherry sat atop melting whipped cream. Chocolate shake looking unblended and less than appetizing.

“There really isn’t much to do here..” Jeno mumbles, chin tucked into his chest. Basket of half eaten fries more interesting than you apparently.

“I could have told you that..” you murmur in response. Sitting back in the booth with boredom. Jeno does the same, brows furrowing in thought. A minute or five of silence passing. He grunts lowly, pulling his phone out.

“Look at you two!” Mark jogs over sporting a huge smile stretched across his cheeks. Red and white striped apron covering what looks like an all white uniform.

“You work here?!” You sit up, eyeing the uniform. Almost too fitting, a too old altar boy working part time at a cheap fifties diner.

“Well of course, phone bills don’t pay themselves! Timothy 6:10 For the love of money, is the root of all kinds of evil!” Mark proclaims, finger waggling about like a mad man. Your lips pulling back over your teeth in...displeasure.

“Right..”

“Fucking shit” Jeno groans, kicking at a foot under the table. Tsking as thumbs slam down at his phone screen.

“Ah Jeno! Proverbs 21:23! Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps himself out of trouble!” Mark places hands on his hips. Lips pursed together with disappointment.

“Yea..sorry Jesus. Whatever.” Jeno mumbles again, eyes not moving from his phone.

“Gamers right” Mark shakes his head your way. Eyes lighting up, taking your own phone out.

“What do you play??” you scoot in closer to Jeno. Closing the space between the two of you in the booth. His shoulders stiffen, curling in hunched over the table.

“Kartrider..” Jeno barely whispers. Catching enough of it, familiar with the game.

“I play too! Oh! I bet I have a better rank than you!” Laughing unlocking your phone, swiping the game open. “Look at my character, she’s so cute!”

“There’s no way you’re better than me....I’m always top ranking in this county..” Jeno’s eyes widen. Forgetting about his current race, watching you hold up your phone with laughter.

“Come on, let’s race. I’m gonna kick your ass!” You lean in closer, reading out Jeno’s ID as you enter it in. “Add me!”

“Language!” Mark sighs, head shaking with both of you. “God’s children have truly fallen. After everything the lord has done for us.”

“Come on Jeno! Play me! I’ll go easy on you” nudging at his side with a wink. Your smile grows, finally something you can do together. Jeno dragging you around downtown past rusty antique shops. The only thing that caught your interest a quant little family owned bookstore. Learning fast he wasn’t much for conversation. Face appearing pained and uninterested with every word from you.

“Don’t feel like playing anymore..” Jeno shuts his phone, screen turning black.

“What?! Aw come on. Can’t stand the thought of a girl beating you?” Jeno leans back, eyes taking in your face slowly. All he cared about was winning, competing in stupid games just to achieve a high ranking. You’d win of course, he’d never let you lose.

“Just don’t feel like playing anymore.”

——————————————————————————-

“Thanks for showing me around, the one street you took me to.” Your voice drips with sarcasm. Hopping off the back of Jeno’s bike. He removes his own helmet, hair flopping around messily. “Was fun I guess.”

“Yea well” Jeno holds out his hand for the helmet you borrowed. You hold it under your arm, brow quirking in confusion. Your hand slowly lifting, placing in his. Jeno’s eyes widen, staring at your hands held together. Too many feelings rushing at him all at once.

“Helmet!” Jeno shouts abruptly, hand flying away from yours like you’re too disgusting to touch.

“Geeze, fine. Sorry...” you place the helmet on the back end of Jeno’s bike. Turning away, without even a goodbye. He grabs your elbow, your foot stopping mid-air.

“You..” head turning, staring down where he holds you.

“Yes?” You implore him to continue. Jeno’s hand dropping from you when you fully turn to face him again.

“You.. you really like my brother..?” Jeno’s eyes fall to the ground. Thick dark eyelashes shadowing across his cheeks.

“Yea of course. Is that what this is about Jeno? I really do like him, I would never use someone.” You smile, bouncing back on your heels. Jeno’s lips suck in with frustration.

“Wish I could say the same about him.” Jeno mumbles, turning his engine back on.

“What was that?” Voice raising, trying to speak above the loud roar from the motorcycle. Jeno flicks down his helmet shield, speeding off. Cloud of dust surrounding you. Smacking at the air coughing out, bike disappearing behind dusts.

“Fucking jerk.”

—————————————————————————-

“Haechan! Where are we going? The church?!” Your shoes lift up dust. Arm in his hold pulling you toward the small old building.

“Where else would we go baby? Can’t go to my place, the holy spirit’s home.” Haechan laughs, pulling a lanyard from his back pocket. “Besides, this is my dads church you know right? It’s like my property too, we’re safe here under God’s watchful eye.”

“Isn’t this.. I don’t know. Sacrilegious?!” You anxiously follow him inside. Haechans easy smile comforting you, arms wrapping around your waist. He steps back down the center aisle. Pews displayed at your sides, Haechan leading you one in front. He pulls you to the center of the pew, sitting with hands on your hips.

“This feels..” you start, chest rising and falling faster as guilt passes through you.

“Wrong? God didn’t make us this way..” his hand smooths down your bare thigh. Passing the fresh new dress just for your date tonight. Fingers skirting between your thighs, one playing at a side covering your mound. “..for us to not touch and explore..”

“It’s just..” your hands grip at the front of the pew behind you. Where you’d normally kneel to pray..

“Just?..” Haechans eyes gaze up at you. Pure sin and danger hidden in the face of an angel. Tongue sliding up your other thigh. “You’re so sweet.”

You sigh in defeat, legs quivering, upper body doing the work to hold you up. His head dipping under your dress, nose pressing into your slit. Cotton from your panties shoving between you. Soft moans sounding from underneath, Haechans tongue licking at your underwear. Enough to properly soak them up, allowing drool to freely fall from his mouth. You gnaw at your lip, gathering up your dress fabric in one hand. Admiring the way the beautiful boy between your legs eats you up.

Haechan lets out a dreamy sigh. Long fingers stroking up and down your thighs. Teeth biting your at core with cloth between. Your stomach folds in, curling closer to where he sits below you. Fingers wrapping around the sides of your panties, tongue lapping at your inner thighs.

“Body of a virgin can heal more sins than body of christ you know..” underwear at your knees. Haechan leans back in, lips wrapping around your clit. Tongue swirling around, suctioning between. Your other hand lifting to your mouth, biting down on your thumb. Muffled moans and whines echoing around the church walls.

Haechans eyes stay on your face, tongue rolling your clit around. Hands squeezing your inner thighs, pulling back, clapping down slaps. Your hips jolting forward with suppressed cries. Everything about him was absolutely depraved. Looks deceiving from the boy your mother had always warned you about.

“Don’t hide your pretty sounds baby.” Haechan pulls away. Lips shining, coated in your wetness. Glares from the colored glass reflecting off his skin. Red tinted eyes sparkling up at you. Haechan reaches for your wrist, yanking your hand out from your mouth. His lips part open, tongue swirling around your entrance. Sucking up the wetness gathering around.

“Oh God!” You shout out, neck loosely dropping back. Tears on the brink of escaping the corners of your eyes.

“That’s it baby. You pray to me now.” Haechan groans, mouth closing over your entire mound. Eyes rolling back into his head, swiping up and down your core. Hands finding his hair, fingers digging into his scalp. Haechans tongue thrusts into your tight entrance, muscle working extra hard to enter.

“Oh my God!” Body shaking, ass digging into the pew. Hips twitching forward, grinding against Haechans face. Chin covered in your wetness, tongue wiggling inside you. Fingers finding way to your clit, pinching and rolling the bud. “Oh my God!!”

Haechan groans inside you, scalp in pain from your pulling. Cock hardening in his jeans, taste of innocence in his mouth nearly orgasmic. You taste too fucking good, nothing like that used up whore from earlier..

“I-I c-can’t!” Haechans fingers work at your clit. Rapidly sweeping back and forth. Tongue sliding out, jaw hung open. Eyes return to your face, smile breaking out over his cheeks.

“You can.” He pants, tongue hung out lazily lapping at your hole. Clit pinched between two fingers, massaging every little nerve. “Cum on my tongue.”

Your head drops forward, tear slipping free. Haechans raspy tone saying those words driving you past your limit. Ass lifted off the pew, core convulsing. Haechans tongue placed against your fluttering entrance. Catching all of your release. You weakly fall forward again, forehead resting on top of his messed up hair.

“So good.” Haechan moans words out, licking clean the wetness seeping from you. Neck lifting, hands cupping your cheeks. “Taste.”

Tongue pushing between your parted lips, trying to catch your breath. Haechan laps at your tongue, realization hitting you in seconds what he’s making you do. Tasting yourself between your lips. His tongue covering every corner inside your mouth. Haechans hands return to your hips, pulling you off the front of the pew to straddle his lap.

“You want it?” His hand digs into the back of your hair. Jean clad dick shoving between your thighs at your heated core. Weakly nodding, eyes half open lazily pecking pouty lips. Haechan lays back down flat across the pew. Warm hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly. “Come here.”

Your head nods, under his command. Mind controlled by whatever he’s saying, telling you ‘I want it- no matter what it is.’ If it’s from Haechan- give it to me, now. You lay down on his chest, kisses continuing. Hands squeezing around your ass, pulling up your dress. Hands flying down hard with mean slaps. Fingers gliding down finding way between your legs again. Skimming up and down your slit from the back. Soft moans passing between your swollen lips.

Body tensing, sounds of the large entrance doors opening up with a slam. Haechans eyes open up staring into yours, brows lifted. His lips purse out with a silent ‘shhh’, earning a rapid head shake from you. Familiar smirk pulling at his lips, free hand clamping over your mouth. Your eyes widen, lips pressing into the palm of Haechans hand. Fingertips circling around your needy entrance. Panic rushing through you as loud foot steps approach closer and closer.

Your forehead shoved up against Haechans. Mouth closed off, silent whimpers falling out behind his hand. Finger sliding inside you, his lit up eyes watching your expressive eyes react. The fear and curiosity alone could make him cum.

“Are you kidding me!” A flash light shines over your faces. Mark standing at the end of the pew in disgust. Your head lifts quickly, ripping Haechans hand off your mouth. Cheeks heating up absolutely mortified. Moving fast, adjusting your dress to cover up. Haechan stays laid down, eyes fluttering shut with irritation.

“Fucking cock block.” He whispers to himself, sitting up. Tent in his jeans extremely evident.

“I knew you stole my keys again Haechan!” Mark clicks the flash light on and off angrily. Both of you covering your eyes. “and you! Mary of Magdala! You should be ashamed! Think of your mother!”

“Dude, chill.” Haechan stands, hands held up trying to block the bright light from his eyes. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Weren’t doing anything?!? If people found out what you were doing, this one would be getting pelted with stones!” Mark passes the light over your face. You cringe, hands coming up to hide yourself.

“Mark, quick, what’s the verse about fucking that really cute voice of an angel choir boy?” Haechan throws him a knowing look, pulling a lanyard from his pocket. Marks eyes widen, snatching his keys away.

“Don’t steal my keys again! Next time I will be telling your father!” Mark scurries away, door slamming behind him.

“Oh my God he’s gonna tell your dad!” You panic, pulling your dress down. Attempting to wipe away any mascara that could be on your cheeks.

“Nah he’d never, can’t risk everyone finding out about Renjun. Don’t worry baby, I got something on everyone.” Haechan pulls you in, gently pecking your lips. Your senses relax, mind torn with stress still. Who the fuck were you right now..

“You know..” Haechan turns you around, hand scooping your chin. “I’m gonna fuck you. Right there.” He holds your jaw up. Eyes on landing on the altar.

“Jesus will know all your sins after I’m done with you.”

Part 3–>

Taglist:

@seuomo @unknown5tar @sunoosi @safariria @nctlover94 @underjeno @nanascupid @jenorenle @scruffiejelly @mel-yjh @count-your-shadows @sunflowerhae @johnjaespeach @nctflix @notsooperfect​ @skrtbeepbeep​  @lanadreamie​ @nctstrawberrycow​  @meonlightuniverxse​ @sunshinedhyuck​ @haechanswhore​ @brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr​ @kpopmultiifandomm​ @d1nne​ @neobanguniverse​ @pewpewpwe00​ @abitofafan​ @haechansworld​ @born5sos​ @bockhyun​ @prettychannie​ @xuyiyangstan​@alexameliamg​ @ahsshilee​ @jeon-jungkook-is-actually-god @xwanna127x @heyitsbreeeeee @tarolovebot @loveyukhei @eleanorfreakingchan @classic-antifood @winwiniee @sheytanni @player23 @wavetease @nahyuckk @n0hyuck @doyoungssouthernbabygirl

[hitnran]

UNHAPPY (gender neutral! reader)

how you deal with them when they’re unhappy

includes: chifuyu, sanzu, ran, rindou

note: you can view these as either their past or present selves

— CHIFUYU MATSUNO

For Chifuyu, it doesn’t take too much for him to really make him super unhappy. But often times, he does get annoyed at some things that just tick him off. Sometimes it’ll be something small, like someone cutting in line or someone stepping too close into his boundaries. At those times, he usually either lets it go or will confront whoever it is he has to deal with (verbally or physically, depends on the situation).

But nothing would make him more unhappy like the situation involving the death of Baji - someone who changed his life for the better.

For the first few days, it felt like the situation didn’t even occur. He would drag this out to days, weeks, months. You didn’t want to ask too many questions out of fear of being too insensitive, maybe this was just how he dealt with it. Though, you would always at least check up on him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” He would softly grin, assuring you that he was okay. Never had you heard him fully talk about it, and you wouldn’t force him.

Upon plans to visit his place and hangout, you figured that it wouldn’t hurt to show up earlier than usual. It wasn’t like he minded it either - more time to spend with you.

You gathered together both of your favorite snacks and drinks, the door was left open for you. You quietly snuck in, figuring he would be in his room, maybe reading a new manga or playing with game.

But upon peaking through the cracks of his opened room door, you found him sniffling and sobbing, staring down at something in his lap - Baji’s Toman uniform.

You felt your throat go dry and your chest ache to see him like this - so vulnerable about a topic that he swore he accepted, but you knew him better. You slowly pushed opened his door, falling to your knees and pulling his head close to you.

He cried harder, feeling weak to show this side of himself to you, but he couldn’t help it. Chifuyu tried letting out words like ‘I’m okay,’ but he failed and choked on his words.

“You..don’t have to keep it to yourself anymore, Chifuyu,” You comforted him, softly humming and running your palm over his head.

Once he is calm enough to speak, you both move to a more comfortable spot where he can talk. One of Chifuyu’s favorite thing is to lay down with you, so this isn’t out of the ordinary, but when he’s unhappy, he relishes this moment more than he ever has.

The feeling of your stomach raising up and down and the sound of your heart beating makes him feel at ease - it helps him know that you’re there with him and you’re all his.

When he’s unhappy, he really appreciates it when you give him his undivided attention and just listens to him talk. Chifuyu’s aware that some things are out of your control, but it’s the thought of having someone to share these moments of his life with that means more to him. Whether it’s him ranting about someone who annoyed him or him reminiscing back on his memories, at the end of his session, he will always shower you with attention to show you how much he is thankful for you.

— HARUCHIYO SANZU

There’s a lot that actually makes Sanzu unhappy. It might be more common than him actually being happy, but nonetheless, for the most part he doesn’t care. Sanzu simply does not care enough to worry about minor inconveniences. If it doesn’t get in the way of him and/or those he is loyal to, he isn’t going to waste his time and energy on even thinking about it.

Other times, if he’s just having a bad day, he’ll maybe blow things out of proportion and take those minor inconveniences as a way to just blame his bad day on. If someone really wants to get on Sanzu’s bad side though, all they’d have to do is either mention his siblings that he loathes so much or talk badly about those who he is loyal to.

You will immediately know when he’s unhappy when Sanzu doesn’t talk. He’s already wasting his time and energy to even worry about what’s making him upset, so he’s not going to add more by talking. Unfortunately, this even goes for you. He’d enjoy it if you would give him his space, allowing him to just let time deal with his temper.

Though, Sanzu greatly appreciates how patient you are with him. Never did he ask for you to do these small things you do for him, in fact, he thought it should be the other way around where it would be him giving you everything.

When he’s unhappy and unwilling to speak, you still put so much effort. His favorite food is ready and waiting for him, his clothes are free of wrinkles, and life just seems so much easier for him to deal with.

Depending on how serious the issue was, it’ll either take a few hours or a few days for Sanzu to speak to anyone else again, but you will always be the first. He’ll walk up behind you, ignoring whatever you’re doing and inhale your scent that he missed so much.

It’s really better to just not ask about what happened unless he brings it up himself, but he likes it if you’d just talk about yourself.

“What are you doing, doll?” His words are a lot softer around you, a big contrast to the personality he puts out towards others.

And as you begin to talk, Sanzu can’t help but soften his expression, nodding at every sentence and giving you his attention. He knows that he isn’t the easiest to deal with and he knows that it was nothing you have to deal with - you could ignore it and he would be fine with it. But your efforts will never go unnoticed, and he will be sure to make it up to you to the best of his ability.

— RAN HAITANI

It doesn’t take too much to make Ran unhappy. He’s unbothered by a lot of things and it may just be an older brother instinct to just deal with things as they go. If it’s things involving his career as a dangerous man, then it’s a little different. Things are in the moment and he has to make sure that he isn’t caught with his guard down.

If someone is bothering you, Ran will deal with it on the spot. If Rindou got himself in trouble again, he’ll deal with that too on the spot. He just doesn’t wanna waste his time.

Like Sanzu, it had to just have been a bad day where things kept piling up on him and he just had enough. He’ll immediately go and find you, not wanting to really project his problems on you, but more as a way to distract himself.

You hear a familiar set of feet creep your direction, your name is dragged out as Ran calls for you, wondering where you are.

“There you are,” Ran’s face visibly beams as he finally sees you.

He immediately walks over to you, grabbing your attention and leaving you to toss out whatever you were doing prior. Ran’s a touchy person, but never really ‘clingy.’ You’ll know when something happened that irritated him when he clings onto you more.

“Did something happen?” You curiously ask, looking straight at him.

He shook his head, nearly forgetting the reason why he was upset in the first place, “Let’s go out tonight or something. Tell me what you wanna do, and we’ll do it.”

If Ran is unhappy, he really just doesn’t wanna bother with it especially if it isn’t something he can immediately deal with. The best thing you can do is just ask if he wants to talk about it. Usually he’ll brush over it, wanting to at least let you in on the details of his life, but that’s about it.

His thought process is really ‘why spend time worrying about those things when I can just be with my partner?’ He doesn’t want to think of you as a distraction, but no doubt does he see you as a mood booster. You always make his day.

— RINDOU HAITANI

Rindou gets irritated a lot. One thing he hates dealing with his people. He just hates dealing with how ‘indecisive and stupid some of them’ can be as he says. But with his title, he’s kind of forced to have to consistently be around others, usually those who aren’t looking to be his friend.

When Rindou’s unhappy, he’ll find everything else annoying. If it someone who cut in front of him in line, suddenly everyone to even looks in his direction will piss him off. If his brother took the last of his favorite snack, suddenly he’ll start thinking about how he can step outside and beat the shit out of a person just for fun if he wanted to.

He tries his best to not snap at you, it’s nothing he wants to bother with if he makes you unhappy too. He’ll be very similar to Sanzu where he just wants to be left alone for the most part but only out of fear of taking his anger out on you on accident or saying something out of pocket due to frustration.

But even after just a few minutes of asking to be alone, Rindou will usually go and find you and just ask to silently do something together. He just doesn’t wanna be left alone with his own thoughts; it might drive him more crazy.

Rindou will make it super evident when he’s upset (he’s stubborn), but when he is, it’s good to just be patient with him as he’ll most likely come back and drape his body over you, silently asking for attention.

Take off his glasses and kiss his eyelids, play with his hair and his fingers, tell him you love him and he’ll melt. His face is left with an expression he wouldn’t dare show anyone else, but nonetheless, he’s grateful to you and he immediately forgets what upset him in the first place.

“Thanks,” He lowly murmurs into your neck. You feel the heat from his ears go hot. “For dealing with me.”

[arrowflier]

Okay, I'm trying to figure out how it all works here with asks and I'm so sorry, if I do it wrong.

Thank you for all your beautiful speedwritings, they're perfect. You're so skilled, it's incredible.

If you still take prompts, I wonder whether you could do something about Ian talking to the paralayzed Terry and telling him how he, as a farther, could do right about Mickey and how Mickey deserves everything and how while Ian doesn't understand WHY, he sees that Mickey cares about his asshole of a parent. I guess, I prompt something like Ian being protective over Mickey in front of Terry, maybe without Mickey being in the picture for the most part.

Thank you in advance, if you consider that!

Thank you anon!  Content warning: Terry Milkovich.  He deserves his own.

"Hey, I gotta run out for a sec," Mickey says after rooting unsuccessfully through the refrigerator in the new Milkovich house.  "They're out of that protein stuff the doctor said he needs."

"I'll come with you," Ian says, already grabbing for his stuff, but Mickey stops him with a hand on his chest.

"Need ya to stay here," he tells Ian.  He bites his lip, not meeting Ian's eyes.  "Don't wanna leave him alone, you know?"

No, Ian didn't know.  Because if it were up to him, Terry Milkovich would be alone and miserable for the rest of his hopefully short life.

But Mickey still felt something for the man.  If he could even be called a man after what he put his children through.  And Ian might not understand that--he stopped caring about Frank years ago, and his real father years before that--but Mickey is tired and anxious and staring unfocused over Ian’s shoulder, and Ian isn’t going to let him down.

“Okay,” he says instead.  “I’ll hold down the fort.”

And Mickey is smiling, quick and thin, and pecking him on the side of his mouth in thanks and in goodbye.

“Keep your mouth to yourself under my roof, boy,” Terry growls from the living room, and Mickey rolls his eyes and flips him off without looking.

“Back soon,” he promises Ian, backing away.  “Don’t kill him while I’m gone.”

“Aw shucks,” Ian answers flatly, eyebrows raised.  “There go my afternoon plans.”

Mickey comes back over at that, kisses him again.  Pulls back more slowly, ignoring Terry’s grumbling.

“Make it up to you later,” he says lowly, and winks.  Then he pats Ian on the cheek, and is out the door with his wallet and the ambulance keys before Ian can say another word.

It’s quiet for a moment.  Ian keeps on with what he was doing before Mickey left--rinsing out the old bowls in the sink, sipping on a beer--and Terry does the only thing he can: sit and mope.

The quiet doesn’t last for very long.

“Why are you still here?” Terry demands to know.  “You after my ass now?”

Ian can’t help it; he snorts so hard he can feel bubbles from the beer in his nose.

“Oh yeah,” he reveals.  “You got me all figured out, Terry.  I’m just with your son so I can get to your saggy, decrepit ass.”

It feels good, to wind Terry up the way he used to wind up Frank.  To taunt him without having to worry about the repercussions.  And Terry must realize he’s enjoying it a little too much, because his next words are a lot harder to laugh off.

“Shoulda put bullets in both of you when I had the chance.  Fuckin’ queers.”

Ian goes still.  Water continues to splash off the dishes, wetting his arms, but he ignores it.

“What did you just say?” he asks quietly.

“You heard me, you pansy-ass fuck.  I should have put you in the ground where you belong, and let him jump in after you.”

Ian reaches out calmly to turn off the water.

“You shouldn’t say shit like that,” Ian says softly.  Softly but sure, a thread of something in his voice like barbed wire, like blood, like the butt of a pistol against Mickey’s head.

“Did I hurt your little girl feelings?” Terry goads.  “Gonna cry now, princess.”

A humorless laugh escapes Ian as he pushed back from the counter, makes his way to the living room where Terry has no choice but to sit.

“You know,” he says casually as he does, “I used to wonder why you hated us so much.”  He smirks.  “The gays, you know.”

He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of Terry’s chair, towering over him.  He doesn’t lean forward, doesn’t put his hands anywhere near the man.  He just stands, and looks at him.  Waits until Terry’s typical sneer starts to fall, for his eyes to dart nervously around the room.

"But that's the thing, isn't it?" Ian says finally.  "I don't give a shit if you hate me, or why."  He shrugs.  "Don't even really care if you hate him."

"Then why the fuck are you talkin to me?"

"Because your opinions are garbage," Ian answers plainly.  "You're garbage.  And if it were up to me, I'd throw you out with the molded leftovers and never spare you a second goddamn thought."

"But it isn't up to me," Ian adds.  "And Mickey asked me to take care of you, so here I am.  For him."

"You his bitch now?" Terry mutters.  His eyes may be about all he can move, but he uses them to full advantage, eying Ian up and down like there's some visible sign of his

"Thought it was the other way around."

"I'm not his bitch, Terry," Ian says calmly.  "And he isn't mine.  He's my husband--yes, husband, despite your best efforts--" he repeats firmly at Terry’s responding scowl, "and I will do everything in my power to make him happy."

"Milkoviches don't do happy," Terry grunts.  "Makes people weak."

"Well Gallaghers do," Ian counters, "and it makes us strong."

"You always did think you were better than us, you gay ginger fuck."

"Better than you?" Ian repeats.  "Abso-fucking-lutely.  But better than Mickey?"  He snorts.  "Not in a million years."

Now he does lean in, bracing his hands on the arms of that hospital-issue chair.

"Despite your best efforts, your son is amazing,” Ian tells the man he hates more than anything.  “He's a good man, a good husband.  A good uncle to my sister's kid, my brother's.”

Terry is avoiding his eyes, trying to look like he isn’t.  Ian doesn’t care--he revels in the knowledge that his very presence makes the man uncomfortable.

"I've hurt him too, you know,” Ian confesses, just to see the faint flinch Terry tries to hide.  “So many times.  And he should have left me for it, but he didn't.

“Because unlike you,” Ian continues, “Mickey takes care of the people in his life.  The people he loves.”  

Ian pulls back, away from Terry’s face, gives him room to breathe again.  Rubs a hand over his own face, and sighs.  He can hear a door slamming outside--Mickey, probably, already back from the store.

“I'm working on making it up to him,” he tells Terry while they still have the room to themselves.  “All the shit I've put him through.  Because of all the people on the earth, he might deserve it the most.”

Mickey’s footsteps are approaching the front door, and Ian moved back toward the kitchen.  Before he starts the water again, he looks back at Terry one more time.  At the face that once haunted his dreams, now pale and sweaty and forced still.

“Maybe you should try to make some things up to him, too.”

[emeren]

Mmm maybe eren walking in on the reader using a vibrator and offering to help her and over stimulating her..

you got it! here it comes :)

red handed - eren jaeger 

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader 

word count: 2.5k

content warnings: smut, 18+, masturbation, overstimulation, crying

notes: this one was fun to write, it was my first time writing about a vibrator so idk if it’s that good but i hope you all enjoy nevertheless! <3

you sighed to yourself, anxiously glancing at the clock. your roommate had informed you he wouldn’t be back until around nine; the numbers 7:30 blinking back at you expectantly. there was no way he’d be home early; eren was late to nearly everything he did. 

deciding to move into a small, crappy apartment with your childhood best friend had seemed like a good idea at the time. you and eren knew each other forwards and backwards; right side up and upside down. 

what you didn’t know was just how needy eren could be. he hated being bored more than anything in the world. he was always lingering, always pestering you to go do something. he would sometimes just walk into your room and stand there, asking you what you were doing and if you wanted to hangout. 

most of the time you didn’t mind. most of the time. but there were instances where the lack of a lock on both your bedroom and bathroom doors became an issue.

instances where the pent up hormones became too much to bear and you had to relieve yourself, quickly and quietly. 

you thanked your lucky stars that eren had decided to go out with some friends tonight. you’d finally be able to enjoy a moment of bliss for the first time in well over two weeks. 

after double checking that the front door was locked and peaking your head into eren’s room to make extra sure he was gone, you skipped to your own space with an air of giddiness. finally some alone time!

you softly closed the door behind you, turning to look at your beside table. pulling the small drawer open and rifling through various pieces of junk, your eyes landed on the small, inconspicuous piece of plastic. 

you’d come to realize that your hand wasn’t quick enough to combat eren’s nosey nature, and after a few near misses, you invested in your very first vibrator. 

it was a light pink color; just nearly longer than your middle finger. you picked it up carefully before plunking down on your hard mattress. you shifted so your back was pressed against the head board, knees slightly bent. 

you could feel yourself aching in anticipation, cold hand slipping past the hem of your pajama pants to press the plastic device against your clit. your thumb moved to click the on button, halting as you heard a floorboard creak from out in the hall. 

“ugh,” you muttered to yourself, trying to quell your paranoia. “eren’s not gonna be home for at least an hour.” 

you paused for a minute longer, ears straining. when you were met with just the distant sound of sirens, you allowed yourself to continue, clicking the button. the soft vibration buzzed against your nerves, breath hitching involuntarily at the sudden pleasure. 

it was a wonderful feeling; your chest heaving as your lower half embraced the foreign object. you leaned your head back against the wall, shifting to a more comfortable position as you bent your knees for better leverage. 

your mind began to wander, an image of eren popping into your brain. a few years ago, you would’ve cringed and banished the thought away, but you’d come to acknowledge there was no denying just how attractive your best friend was, no matter how guilty it made you feel. 

you pictured his muscular back, leaned over the sink as he washed dishes with a pair of black sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. you could feel your face heat, closing your eyes as the pressure within the pit of your stomach began to build. 

it was easy to reach your breaking point with the vibrator; breath growing shallow as the image of eren’s muscular arms and defined v-line started to fog your mind. you exhaled out through your nose, the gentle buzzing making your clit twitch with desired release. 

you were so wrapped up, so distracted. it was the single moment of bliss right before your orgasm, face hot and hands clammy. 

you’d never let your mind wander so far before, but you were beginning to imagine eren touching you; letting his hands wander down your skin and caressing your curves, squeezing and- 

“what’re you doing?” a voice startled you from the moment of peace, replaced by an overwhelming embarrassment as your eyes snapped open, focusing on the tall figure leaning against the open doorframe. 

eren’s arms were crossed, face shadowed as he observed you. you quickly sat up, pulling your vibrator from your pants and clicking it off. the pace of your heartbeat was through the roof, eyes wide and chest tight. how fucking embarrassing! 

“i’m- i was-,” you were at a loss for words, standing from your bed. your heart pinged with annoyance, the embarrassment quickly dissipating into anger. “can’t you learn to fucking knock?”

eren didn’t say anything, quirking a brow at your snippy tone. it just aggravated you more, your brain trying to combat the dopamine that never truly reached its full potential. he stood in your doorway, staring you down as you seethed in your place.

“don’t be embarrassed,” he spoke softly. his face had some unknown expression on it, one you’d never seen before. his pupils were dilated, brows furrowed and gaze serious. “it’s a normal thing to do.” 

you huffed, shifting your legs in an attempt to quell the burning between your thighs. “i know that. what’s not normal is you barging into my room without knocking when you weren’t even supposed to be home for another hour.”

“i got bored, so i decided to come home and hangout with you,” he explained. his lip was curved upwards, as if he were trying to suppress a smirk. “s’more fun here anyway.” 

you frowned at his words, your mind flashing that image of his rough hands trailing down your body, squeezing. you swallowed at the thought, the anger quickly being overpowered by your unfinished arousal. “how long were you standing there?”

“long enough to know you didn’t finish,” he commented, holding eye contact as your eyebrows raised in surprise. you opened your mouth to respond, but eren beat you to it. “c’mon, i think i know you pretty well.” 

“not like that,” you muttered demurely, the dull ache nearly too much to bear. you felt like you’d be antsy till you got off, shifting uncomfortably as your eyes fell to the floor. “could you- could you give me some privacy?” 

eren didn’t respond for a moment, the sound of your bedroom door shutting sending a feeling of relief to your brain. you looked up, frown deepening. 

eren was leaning against the closed door, eyes dark and serious. “let me help you.”

his words sent a confused throb to your cunt, face going slack. was this really happening? 

“eren, you don’t mean…” you breathed out, the ache in your center multiplying tenfold at the sight of his tall and muscular figure staring down at you. shit, shit, shit!

“i do,” he responded seriously, taking a step towards you. he was normally tall and formidable, but in the darkness of your bedroom, he seemed infinite. you paused for a moment, your resolve already thin due to the incessant throbbing of your clit. eren seemed to take notice, eyeing you carefully. “who better than your best friend?” 

you held your breath before responding. you’d been thinking of this, dreaming of this. now here he was, standing before you and looking at you as though you were his for the taking. and it excited you. it excited you to no end. “i- okay.” 

eren was quick to smile, stepping up to you. you craned your neck to look at him, heartbeat erratic as his calloused hands ran down your bare arms. he slowly lowered himself to his knees before you, fingers hooking under the waistband of your pajamas. 

his teal eyes glanced up to you, asking for permission. you were afraid your voice wouldn’t work, instead feverishly nodding your head in acceptance. he pulled your pants down tantalizingly slow; like he was unwrapping some sacred gift. 

you bit your lip as your thighs became exposed, the feeling of eren’s hot breath fanning across the newly exposed skin. he leaned forward, eyes still locked with yours as he placed a kiss to the soft flesh, lips slicked with chapstick. it was sinful and he knew it. 

your cotton pants dropped to the floor, standing in nothing but your underwear and a t-shirt. eren’s gaze grew heavy on your panties - the inevitable wet spot showing just how desperate you were for attention. 

“trying to finish before i got home?” he cooed, curling his lip. you felt your face heat, glancing away. 

“yeah,” you responded bashfully, eren motioning his head towards the bed. 

he breathed out a laugh at your answer, giving your thigh that deeply desired squeeze. “that’s so cute. bet you’re so needy for me now, hm?” 

you could feel yourself growing wetter at his words, choosing to sit on the end of the bed in front of him rather than respond. he kissed your leg again, eyes catching on something beside you. 

“what’s this?” he smirked, reaching to grab your vibrator. you were too slow to react, reaching for it in vain as eren inspected it. “tsk, tsk. sit back down.” 

you hadn’t even realized you’d lifted from the mattress, eren’s dark tone making you abide as though you had no free will. 

he gave you a sadistic look, lunging forward to press his tongue flat against your clothed clit. you hissed at the feeling, hands fisting your bed sheets. eren chuckled against you, the vibration making your stomach burn. 

“just that already has you squirming?” he mumbled, lips pressing a kiss. as if this couldn’t get anymore embarrassing. “’s’hot.” 

you breathed out, the sight of eren between your legs in the lowly lit room entirely too attractive. you weren’t surprised he was so bossy and vocal, hand tapping your leg impatiently. 

“off.” he deadpanned, leaning back to watch you as you stood, yanking your underwear down your legs. you tried to quell your excitement; eren’s pupils growing impossibly larger at the sight of your exposed cunt. you sat back down, breath shaky as eren situated himself in front of you. “so wet already.”

eren, just as he always had been, was impatient. you’d just sat down and he was prying your knees apart, tongue hungrily pressing itself against your center. he was sloppy; eating you out with an animalistic hunger that had you nearing your climax much faster than usual. 

“eren,” you whimpered, the feeling of his tongue circling your entrance causing a moan to ripple from your mouth. the sound of his name only made him suck harder. he wasn’t letting up; absolutely determined to bring you to your high as fast as possible. “m’gonna cum, eren.” 

he groaned at your words, arms hooking around your thighs to hold you in place as he focused intently on your clit. the warm, wet feeling was becoming too much; edges of your vision growing dark as you let your release come crashing down, legs twitching as eren released his suction on you. 

he looked at you just long enough for you to notice the sheen on his chin, the sparkle in his eyes, and the grin on his lips. “been waiting so long for this, i’m gonna make the best of it.” 

your chest was heaving, brows pulled down in confusion as eren brought his first two fingers to your entrance, circling it twice before stuffing you with his long digits. 

you were burning, just having come down from your embarrassingly quick release only to have eren fucking you with his fingers. they easily slid in and out, wet with your sheen as he began to gently suck on your inner thigh. your vision was hazy, eren pushing his digits in to the last knuckle and curling slightly. 

the feeling of another release was building in your core; churning and readying you to succumb to eren’s will once more. and you were ready; a breathy moan leaving your lips as he angled his fingers particularly deep. you laid down, hands subconsciously lifting to grope your own chest - searching for an anchor. 

“shit,” eren swore at the sight of you palming your breasts, squirming in his hold as his fingers pumped in and out of you, quickening his pace. you whimpered in response, screwing your eyes shut. 

you felt the cold object press against your clit before he turned it on; eyes widening in surprise as you shot up. eren was grinning at you, thumb clicking it on as an involuntary cry ripped from your chest. 

the vibration was too much as his digits abused your cunt, stuffing into you as far as possible. your clit twitched aggressively, face and neck hot. your brain was growing fuzzy, thoughts clouded as you stared down at eren, mouth hanging open and eyes glossy. he was watching you seriously, pressing the vibrator harder against your clit in order to make you jolt. 

you were burning, abdomen flexing as your eyes began to water. the sensations were too much, legs trying to close but you were blocked by eren’s broad shoulders. 

you’d never been one to scream, but you couldn’t help the strangled sound that escaped your mouth as eren included his tongue in the overstimulating mix. hot, sticky tears slid down your cheeks, eren’s tongue lapping at the spot where his fingers disappeared inside of you. 

his eye contact. oh, his eye contact. it was pervasive and inspective, analyzing every sound and movement you made. 

he pulled his tongue back for just a moment, the vibrator buzzing intensely against you. “cum for me.” 

and you did. it was too much; your legs jerking and stomach cramping, mind turned to mush at the overflow of dopamine. you collapsed back on the bed, eren leaving the vibrator pressed against your clit for a moment longer, the feeling now more uncomfortable than anything. you waved your hand, too exhausted to beg him to take it off. eren only chuckled, pulling his fingers from you but pressing the object against you harder. 

“let me see those tears,” he said sweetly, tapping your thigh. it was a sinister sweetness, the tears pooling down your face as you began to grown numb below your waist. you forced yourself to sit up, eren smiling as he saw your wet face. “good girl.”

he removed the vibrator, tossing it on the bed as he stood. you laid back down, breathing heavy and legs weak. eren hovered above you, leaning down to wipe your cheeks. 

“next time, just ask for my help,” he sneered, your eyes rolling weakly. he had a boyish grin on his face, something teasing about his nature. “i’m way better than some stupid vibrator, anyway.” 

<3 <3 <3 

[bloody-bee-tea]

Have a fluffy thought for distraction: discussion conference at Cloud Recesses, sect leader Jiang has not returned to the talks after a break and no one can find him. Hours later someone goes to feed the bunnies and finds him in the meadow, covered in bunnies. Maybe he's asleep, maybe he's awake, either way he can't move because that would disturb the bunnies and you don't disturb animals that picked you as their seat :3 he lives in the meadow now.

A field of rabbits

Well it certainly distracted me into writing XD <3

When everyone files back into the conference room and Jiang Wanyin is nowhere to be seen, Nie Mingjue doesn’t immediately panic. 

This is the Cloud Recesses after all, and it’s highly unlikely that he got attacked or ran into some trouble here. After Wen Xu managed to burn the Cloud Recesses, they made sure that it’s one of the most fortified places right after the Unclean Realm and possibly Lotus Pier.

Jiang Wanyin might be a magnet for trouble, and he might look for fights more than anyone else Nie Mingjue knows except himelf, but the chances that he found either here are slim to none.

It’s much more likely that there was an emergency with his Sect that he has to deal with before he can come back to the conference. 

It happened before and it will happen again; after all, they are all Sect Leaders here and there are always issues the second in command can’t deal with on their own.

Nie Mingjue has the utmost understanding for that.

But when Lan Qiren steps into the room and frowns, before worry visibly clouds over his face that’s the moment unease makes itself known in Nie Mingjue’s belly.

If Jiang Wanyin had to deal with something else, then he would have notified Lan Qiren, there’s no doubt about that.

Jiang Wanyin has the utmost respect for Lan Qiren and he would never be late or miss a meeting intentionally, not without telling Lan Qiren or informing him otherwise.

But it doesn’t seem like Lan Qiren knows what happened to Jiang Wanyin either, and that’s cause to worry.

People are already starting to whisper about his absence and Nie Mingjue clenches his fist.

Jiang Wanyin has been leading his Sect for over three years now; bringing it back from the brink and restoring it to much of its former glory and still people are talking about him as if he’s a helpless teenager who doesn’t deserve their respect or fear.

Nie Mingjue hates it with every fibre of his being, because Jiang Wanyin has stepped up for his Sect in a way not many would have been able to and it itches him to snap at all of them.

It’s only Lan Qiren who catches his gaze that stops him.

“Sect Leader Jiang has been delayed by an important issue. He is requesting for Sect Leader Nie’s assistance, so if you would, please,” Lan Qiren says with a meaningful glance towards Nie Mingjue and Nie Mingjue nods his understanding.

Lan Qiren has no goddamn clue where Jiang Wanyin is and he wants him to look for him.

Nie Mingjue will more than gladly do that.

There is no real danger here that could have befallen Jiang Wanyin, but Nie Mingjue still worries.

He has never seen anyone with eye rings that deep or black, especially since Jiang Wanyin is otherwise almost deathly pale and the concern that he might have just dropped dead is a real one.

Jiang Wanyin is pushing himself far too hard.

Nie Mingjue asks every disciple he sees if they have seen Jiang Wanyin but he only gets vague answers in return.

It seems like Jiang Wanyin vanished like a shadow.

Nie Mingjue feels frustration rise in him when he makes his way through the entire Cloud Recesses with no sign of Jiang Wanyin.

“You think the rabbits will be mad that we didn’t feed them?” Nie Mingjue hears a disciple say suddenly and he frowns. 

“I think better the rabbits than Sect Leader Jiang,” another voice replies and before Nie Mingjue can inquire about what they mean, they are gone.

But he finally has a lead and so he follows the path that leads to the meadow with the rabbits.

He used to come here a lot with Lan Xichen when they were both younger and less burdened but ever since the Sunshot Campaign neither of them have the time for this anymore.

His feet still remember the path well though, and it’s not long before the first rabbits come into view.

The rabbits and a figure clad in purple.

Nie Mingjue breathes a little bit easier just for having found Jiang Wanyin but then it registers in his mind that Jiang Wanyin is splayed out on the ground, not moving or talking, and the worry comes back with a vengeance.

Nie Mingjue stealthily makes his way over to Jiang Wanyin, but as soon as he gets closer he realizes that Jiang Wanyin is breathing easily and deeply and he seems more relaxed than Nie Mingjue has ever seen him.

He just fell asleep then. That’s good.

Nie Mingjue has to bite back a smile when one of the startled rabbits makes its way back onto Jiang Wanyin’s stomach, where it promptly falls back asleep.

Nie Mingjue is unsure if the rabbits climbed on Jiang Wanyin and prevented him from leaving, causing him to fall asleep, or if Jiang Wanyin fell asleep and the rabbits claimed him as their bed, but it doesn’t really matter.

What matters is that Jiang Wanyin finally got some rest.

Nie Mingjue carefully sits down next to him, but of course Jiang Wanyin startles awake. It seems like the war and the stress are still too close.

“Relax,” Nie Mingjue lowly says, taking care not to startle the rabbits any more than Jiang Wanyin’s violent waking up did and Nie Mingjue watches fondly as the same rabbit as before makes its bed on Jiang Wanyin’s stomach yet again.

It seems to be a particularly good spot for sleeping.

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Wanyin asks him and his voice is rough enough to suggest that he at least slept for most of their break.

That’s good.

“Looking for you,” Nie Mingjue lowly gives back and puts a hand to Jiang Wanyin’s shoulder when he tries to get up. “Relax,” he says again and Jiang Wanyin does sink back into the grass, but there’s tension in his face now.

“The break is over,” he whispers, sounding horrified and Nie Mingjue nods.

“It is, but don’t worry. Lan Qiren has your back.”

“What did he say?” Jiang Wanyin asks as if he fears the answer.

“That there has been an important issue. You asked for my help, if you’re wondering,” Nie Mingjue says easily and then lays down on the grass as well. “And I like what you’re doing so I’ll join you.”

“Sect Leader Nie—” Jiang Wanyin starts but Nie Mingjue doesn’t let him speak.

“Mingjue. Nie Mingjue if you must,” he corrects him and then closes his eyes as the first curious rabbits start to explore him.

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Wanyin whispers after a long moment and Nie Mingjue blinks over to him.

“What for?”

“Missing the conference. Making you miss it, too. You can go back if you want to, and I’ll follow soon.”

Nie Mingjue eyes first the rabbit on his own stomach and then the numerous ones on Jiang Wanyin and raises an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t think either of us will. You don’t move if an animal has chosen you as their sleeping spot. It’s just not done. Believe me, I know. Huaisang has many birds who like to sit on me and you’re simply not allowed to disturb them. It’s an unwritten law,” Nie Mingjue tells him and reaches out for another rabbit to add it to the ones already on Jiang Wanyin.

“And would you look at that, another one chose you. You can leave even less now.”

Jiang Wanyin is staring at him with wide eyes and Nie Mingjue is absolutely unprepared to see tears well up in them.

It seems like Jiang Wanyin wasn’t prepared for that either if the panic in his eyes is any indication and Nie Mingjue does the only thing he can think of.

He plops a rabbit onto Jiang Wanyin’s face.

The rabbit doesn’t struggle like Nie Mingjue expected it to and instead stays on his face for long, long moments, and Jiang Wanyin doesn’t make a move to dislodge it either.

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng finally croaks out again and Nie Mingjue sighs, before he crosses his arms behind his head.

“There is no need to be. You’re pushing yourself too hard. Lan Qiren and I worry. It’s good for you to take some time off and where better to do it than here. Lan Qiren will inform us if there’s anything important, but you should know how these things go by now. Sect Leader Yao will think he’s the most important man in the room until Jin Guangshan reminds him that he is in fact the most important man in the room and by then it will be evening. It’s not like we’re going to miss much.”

“True,” Jiang Wanyin says with a snort, which finally makes the rabbit move off his face.

There are no more tears in his eyes, but Jiang Wanyin seems bone-deep exhausted.

“Rest some more. I’ll make sure no one disturbs us,” Nie Mingjue lowly says and Jiang Wanyin closes his eyes with a sigh.

“I shouldn’t be this weak,” he mutters under his breath and Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes.

“You’re human,” he gives back. “And your body has needs. Sleep is one of them.”

“I don’t have time to sleep,” Jiang Wanyin whispers but he closes his eyes.

“You do now. So make the best of it,” Nie Mingjue advises him and he’s pretty sure Jiang Wanyin falls asleep before he even finishes talking.

Nie Mingjue stares at him for a moment longer—he didn’t quite realize that Jiang Wanyin was so tired that he would basically drift off in the middle of a conversation—but it’s not really a surprise, not with how exhausted he looks.

He watches Jiang Wanyin for a while, looking for any kind of movement, but he seems to be deep into sleep already and so Nie Mingjue turns his head back to look at the sky.

He’ll have to talk to Lan Qiren so they can figure out how to efficiently help Jiang Wanyin lessen the burden of leadership.

Jiang Wanyin is one of the good ones and it would be a shame to lose him to stress and sleep-deprivation this soon.

Nie Mingjue will make sure that he leads a healthier lifestyle than Lan Qiren and Nie Mingjue did back when they took over their respective Sects.

And the first step for that is to let Jiang Wanyin sleep in a field of rabbits. It seems like a good start.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[levi-my-beloved]

Birds of a Feather

Chapter 2

Pairings: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Warnings: Violence, swearing, descriptions of sexual acts

Word count: 5.9K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in the Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened to be Humanity’s Strongest… and your ex.

A/N: big ol’ oof i’m back again with more BoaF shenanigans. i’m having way too much fun with this, and i know i said chapters would be released every two weeks but i actually got way too excited not to post these sooner. haven’t had any issues with accidentally deleting this post yet, but i wouldn’t put it above myself. anyway, here’s chapter two of “Birds of a Feather”

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

You hated surprises. In all shapes and forms. You liked to be in control of the situation, able to predict every move your victims would make. The job was going smoothly, all the steps falling into place. Infiltrating the nearest MP warehouse was easy enough. Stealing medicine, ointments and food was child’s play. You wondered how any of them became members of the MP in the first place, considering how incompetent they were. Only a few throats had to be slit on the way, one of your knives now dripping in their blood. Running it through the crease of your elbow, the crimson came off on your leather suit. Various straps and holsters held knives and blades of all sorts, some were more intricately designed than others.

Crouched low behind a large, wooden crate, you remove one of the smaller daggers from your boot, now clutching it in your left hand. They seemed to have upped their security, judging by the increase of soldiers walking around the place, each with their own rifle on their backs. Shit, they were really getting fed up with you. A small, satisfied smirk sliced across your shrouded face. Even with upped security, this was easy as piss.

That was until a commotion above you had you stopping in your tracks. A strange zipping sound followed by what you could only assume was the releasing of gas filled the air, followed by shouts, some familiar, most unfamiliar. Shit, how the fuck did they know you were here?

It wasn’t long before you were scampering onto crates of weaponry, back up to the broken window in which you’d entered. Swinging up from a beam, you landed deftly on the windowsill, peering out. Dread pooled in your gut at the scene.

These soldiers had skills you’d never seen. Swooping and swivelling with expert precision, it would have been mesmerising if not for the fact that they were chasing your Shadows. Your family.

“Shit… PHANTOM AND RENDEZVOUS,” you shouted, your voice carrying across the rooftops. It was a simple command. Disappear and meet up back at the hideout. But, in doing so, you’d given away your position, and it wasn’t long before you too were racing across the rooftops.

Taking out a set of throwing knives from your waist, you leapt from the tiles onto a balcony, spinning behind you and throwing two of the steel blades at those who were in your pursuit. Both knives hit home, sending two of the three soldiers spiralling into the streets below. Dead.

But one was still on your tail, dodging the two falling bodies effortlessly. Using your momentum, you crashed through the wooden window, rolling as you landed before continuing to flee.

Shit, this really wasn’t good. But one question still circled your mind. How the fuck did they know you were there? How could you possibly have been compromised? The job was airtight. Nobody outside your trusted group knew the positions you would be in and when.

The thought had thrown off your rhythm. Not concentrating on where your feet were falling, you’d missed the staircase right in front of you, only noticing when your foot met air instead of solid ground. Throwing your hands up to somewhat protect you, you were thankful for the corner as you slammed into the wall, your front jolting in protest. Shaking your head in an attempt to free yourself from the disorientation, you swiftly stood and wasted no time skipping the rest of the stairs, shouting a quick “Sorry!” to the couple who yelped in surprise as you vaulted over their kitchen table and burst through their door, back out into the streets. You had a few seconds reprieve before the hissing of gas met your ears, and once again took off running.

The street was irritatingly busy, you having to pick your way through the crowds whilst the zipping and hissing of ODM gear threatened to swoop down from above.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” You muttered, now shoving people aside. This was not ideal. Though the crowded street gave you some cover, it had slowed your momentum significantly.

Scanning around as you sprinted, you saw the perfect opportunity to broaden the gap between you and your pursuer. It was risky as shit, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

With a burst of speed fuelled purely by adrenaline, you raced towards the broken wagon. It acted almost as a ramp up to a swinging tavern sign. ‘The Broken Casket’. You’d never been and honestly had no interest in going, but you silently thanked whoever decided to place the sign at the perfect angle for you to use as a stepping stone. The wagon creaked as you sped up the planks of wood with cat-like agility. Using your arms for momentum, your foot connected with the swinging sign as you leapt across the street. However, in your planning, you’d failed to notice the sound of ODM gear had ceased behind you. It only occurred to you after another body slammed into yours mid jump, a low grunt interrupting your thought process as the two of you crashed into the dirt.

Surprised shouts and exclamations of the crowd brought you back to your senses as you expertly kicked the soldier from your body, rolling to avoid any sort of attack coming your way. This was bad. This was really bad. Drawing two more blades from your leather suit, you flipped them in your hands, ready to face off against your attacker, who had already begun his onslaught with his own steel.

The singing of metal rang in your ears, sparks flying with every collision.

Raising your arm beside your head, you blocked a heavy kick to your face, hissing ever so slightly at the contact. Shit, this guy was good. Ducking beneath a swipe, you took advantage of the fact you were wearing a masked helmet, bringing your head up viciously. You watched as he dodged backwards, his footwork borderline perfect before sweeping for your leg. Barely having enough time to register the attack, you leapt and twisted, bringing your own leg against the side of his head. He mimicked your block, your foot connecting with his forearm instead of his skull. You’d traded blows with hundreds of people before, each fight ending in just a few seconds. You knew you were good. Really good, in fact. But the man currently shrouded by a green cape was just as good. Dare you admit, maybe better than you.

No, you wouldn’t admit that, not when you had just landed a solid hit to his stomach with the hilt of your knife, not the end you’d wanted to land but at this point you were thankful for any successful blows. Rolling deftly to the right, you lunged once again whilst you thought he was still reeling from the impact.

He wasn’t.

He had lulled you into a false sense of security and let you believe the blow had impacted him more than it actually had. A knee cracked against your jaw, throwing you to the side. Sliding against the ground, you slammed into a wall, slumping as you recovered. Your hand came up to cradle the side of your face, wincing as you gently took hold of your chin, before jerking your jaw back into place. You couldn’t deny it. That hurt. A lot.

“You done?” raising your head from the dirt, you glare into the void beneath the hood, a voice you’d sworn you’d heard before, but you pushed down the confusion of familiarity. Slowly placing your blades back into their scabbards, you raised your hands as you stood, taking a step forward away from the wall behind you.

“Shit… Yeah. I’m done.” You admitted lowly, now standing before him, arms still raised in submission. That was until he came closer. You tried not to give away your plan as he cautiously walked towards you, keeping your eyes trained on the ground until you could see the tips of his boots in your vision. You couldn’t help the feral grin that sliced across your face.

Before he had time to question it, your foot connected with the underside of his chin.

It was a move Prongs had taught you a very long time ago. If ever you were in trouble, this was your best bet of escape.

The world turned upside down as you flipped backwards, watching in satisfaction as the man staggered backward. Now it was his turn to cradle his jaw.

“Never let your guard down, Scout.” You spat, before bolting away. That was close. Too close. You just hoped the rest of your Shadows had made it back.

꧁⎈꧂

What. The FUCK. Just happened? He had never seen someone with those kinds of skills before. It would have been impressive if it wasn’t a life or death situation. Levi stood there in the middle of the street, slouched ever so slightly, eyes wide with shock.

What the fuck just happened?

His hand still cradled his chin painfully. How the fuck was he just bested? He wasn’t even thinking clearly throughout that entire chase. All that was running through his head was how the fuck this guy was able to pull of moves like that. He’d seen some daring examples of parkour in his time but leaping over an entire street? Swinging from overhead bridges? The leader of The Nest was on a whole other level. He thought back to their entire ordeal. He must have been taught by someone. There was no way he couldn’t have been.

For some reason, that voice played in his head on repeat. A teasing carousel. He wouldn’t dare assume, but it sparked something in his mind. Something he wouldn’t dwell on now, but if they managed to catch this Raven, then maybe he could figure out just where the hell he’d heard that voice. Sure it was a little muffled and distorted by the mask, but it still bothered him.

Straightening himself, he pulled the hood of his cloak lower against his face. He told Erwin this was ridiculous. He told him this was a fruitless expedition. He was getting a little sick of people not listening to him for various reasons. He suspected it was because of his background.

Levi had done half of the job he was tasked with. Keeping the leader away from the rest of the group for as long as he could. Whilst he wasn’t able to detain him, this should be enough to please the Commander. As if remembering where he was, his skin began to crawl. The filth all around him almost felt suffocating.

“Shit…” he muttered, running his hand through his dark locks, sweat making them stick to his forehead. Looking back to where he’d watched the criminal race away, he pulled the triggers on his ODM gear, the gears shooting into the brick and wood of the upper streets before engaging his gas to meet up with Erwin and Hange. If everything went to plan, they would have the leader of The Nest already detained by the time he got there.

Levi couldn’t deny this operation had been a shitshow. They had severely underestimated the skill of these Shadows. Comrades falling left and right in their pursuit.

It was strange, being back. Dragging up memories he’d tried so hard to bury. His past suddenly creeping back up behind him. Gritting his teeth, he decided to concentrate on where he was going rather on the tendrils of discomfort seeping into his mind. He would face those demons later, when he wasn’t surrounded by death and filth.

Now he thought about it, facing the underground city and facing titans were similar in many ways. Both were terrifying thoughts to most. Both seemed to be caked in dirt and grime. And both seemed to result in the inevitable high death toll. It was frustrating to no end, but it wasn’t a surprise. Everything seemed to result in death. The only constant in this cruel world. It followed him like a curse.

His thoughts twisted back to you. Wondering if you were down here, somewhere. You were always so mysterious. Even when the two of you were together you’d disappear for days on end, only leaving a cryptic message behind. You’d never told him where you went, and he’d never pried. The wind in his ears took the form of your bubbling laughter, images of you clutching your abdomen after he’d told some sorry excuse of a joke.

Shit, he needed to get out of here. The longer he stayed, the further his thoughts strayed back to you.

꧁⎈꧂

You had never run so fast in your life. Wanting to meet up with your Shadows as soon as possible, hoping they would all be there safe. It was a fool’s hope, you knew that, but it was the only hope you had left, unable to shake the unease. Had you all been compromised, or just you and your Shadows? Was the location of The Nest safe? Was Scarlett safe?

You had come to the conclusion you must have been betrayed. There was no other explanation. It seemed impossible, one of your trusted betraying you all to the MPs, but how else would they have known you would have been at the warehouse? How else would they have known to call in the Scouts? They knew MPs alone couldn’t take on you and your Shadows, so they asked for help from a more skilled regiment. That was the only conclusion you could come to as you arrived at the rendezvous point.

Only to be greeted by an eerie silence. Not a soul to be seen.

This was wrong. Everything about this felt wrong. They should be here by now. Unless…

Unless they were at the backup site...

“NOW!”

A woman’s voice had your head jerking up to see you were surrounded. You watched the Scout pull some sort of trigger and as you did, time itself seemed to slow down. A faint click to your left alerted you to whatever trap they may have set. Leaping into a forward roll, you felt a rush of air behind your head as you dodged. Your heart pumping faster than ever as you look behind you, seeing the weighted net that had missed you by less than an inch.

Returning your gaze to the rooftops, you watched as several soldiers zipped onto the ground around you. The hidden square you’d chosen as your first meetup point now riddled with green capes, rifles and blades pointed in your direction.

You were trapped.

“What the fuck do you want?” your voice sounded a lot more confident than you felt. Coming out as a threatening demand rather than a timid question. (E/C) eyes widened behind your mask as a tall, blonde haired man pulled down the hood of his dark green cape. You knew that face, you’d seen it in the papers. The Commander of the Scouts had come to pay you a visit.

How thoughtful.

“The question still stands, Erwin Smith. What the fuck do you want?” you stood a little taller, though he still towered over you. Subtly, your hand went to one of your blades on your belt. If he got close enough, you could sink it into his throat. Throwing the Scouts around you into disarray was probably the only way to escape this, though those chances seemed incredibly slim.

Erwin raised a thick eyebrow to you.

“I’m surprised you’re familiar with my name, considering your… living conditions,” though he seemed to choose his words carefully, they still fanned the flames of hatred in your gut. His perceptive eyes glanced towards your hand nearing a wicked dagger on your belt. “I’d strongly advise you against that,” he warned, his voice low as he nodded his head to something behind you. Swiftly, you turned, and immediately regretted everything. Horror and guilt pierced your heart as you beheld Una as she was dragged forwards, a blade positioned near her throat. “Her life is in your hands, Raven. Co-operate, and we’ll let her go. Fail to do so…” the blade pressed into her throat a little, a small trickle of crimson staining the pale flesh of her neck.

“R-Raven, I'm so sorry,” she rasped, finding difficulty in speaking with the steel against her jugular.

“Shh, shh Una, don’t speak. You’re okay, yeah? You’re fine, you’re going to get out of this, okay? You’ll be alright,” you tried to reassure her as much as you could, but you knew she was scared. You could tell by the way her hands shook by her sides, her eyes squeezed shut. Fuck, this had not gone to plan.

Turning back to Erwin, your voice lowered to a snarl.

“Alright. What do you want? I won’t ask again,” the arrival of another soldier briefly held your attention, faintly acknowledging him as the one you fought earlier. Your jaw tensed as he landed next to the Commander, his face still shrouded in shadow by his hood. You felt a sick satisfaction in knowing that the inevitable bruise blossoming under his chin was from your fight earlier. But he didn’t seem bothered by it.

Annoyingly.

“I’m sure you’ve guessed what we want by now, but I’ll tell you anyway. We want to take you with us, back to the surface, where you will atone for your crimes. In return, we will release this girl and allow the rest of your gang to go free,” it was an incredibly good deal for you, the only issue being…

You die.

The image of your wife danced behind your eyes as you closed them. She was right. You’d been captured.

But a strange calm settled over you. Maybe you could see him again. You’d finally be reunited and free of this world’s filth.

“Alright,” there was almost no hesitation to your answer. Something that caused Una to cry out.

“NO! Raven you can’t! They’ll kill you! Get the hell out of here, I'm not this important!” she attempted to bargain with you, only resulting in that blade pressed closer to her throat.

“DON’T!” you shouted, your voice now breaking ever so slightly. “Please… let her go.” slowly, your hands came up to your masked helmet. Removing it, you allowed the reveal to settle over the soldiers around you.

The leader of The Nest was a woman.

The shock was always something you revelled in. Of course, under normal circumstances, a venomous smile would crawl across your face.

But not this time.

Levi had completely frozen. Eyes wide, mouth parted in shock. His heart was a sick amalgamation of sheer joy and utter terror. Though your face had changed slightly with age, he’d recognise those eyes anywhere. They were harsher than before. Colder. No longer the eyes of a softer, young girl, but those of a savage, hardened killer. But it was you. You were here, in front of him. You were alive.

And he’d knee'd you in the face.

“RAVEN DON’T.” Una knew it was already too late. Your face had been revealed. There was no turning back now. Tossing your helmet to the side, you turned back to face the trio now in front of you. The woman who had pulled the trigger on whatever trap they’d set was now staring at you almost in awe. Erwin’s expression too seemed surprised, but it was the expression of the shorter man next to him that caught your attention. He seemed frozen solid, unmoving. You tried to catch a glimpse of his face beneath his hood, but that only provoked him to shadow it further.

“Let her go. Let them all go,” your voice had dropped significantly, though your eyes still held that steely determination. Staring up at Erwin, you watched as he nodded his head for Una to be released. Raising your hands to show you had nothing up your sleeves, you slowly walked over to her form sprawled out on the floor, head refusing to rise and look at you.

“Raven… I—“

“It’s alright, Una. It’s alright,” you cooed, gently lifting her chin to look at you, her hood still hanging low across her face, her features stayed hidden throughout everything. “This wasn’t your fault. None of this, was your fault, okay? We were betrayed, and I'm pretty sure that wasn’t you,” you chuckled gently, trying to lessen the tension.

Still, you could see the slivers of silver lining her eyes in the low light, tears of guilt welling up. “Hey, listen to me. You’re going to be okay. You’re all going to be okay. We prepared for this, didn’t we? We knew this might happen someday,” your voice was soft as you spoke to her, as if you were simply trying to comfort a child after a nightmare.

Helping her to her feet, you reached for your mask, lifting it from the floor and placing it in her hands. Her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes widened.

Una knew the significance of this.

“Give it to Prongs. Tell him I’m sorry it wasn’t quite the ceremony we would have wanted. Tell him to look after them for me. Look after her, for me,” taking a step back, you fisted your hands to stop yourself from tearing up, eyes trained on the ground. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper, before raising your head. “Now go. Get the fuck out of here.” your commanding tone returned, giving your last order as the leader of The Nest.

Levi’s heart clenched at the exchange unfolding before him. Though your appearance may have changed, you were still as soft as ever. He’d tilted his head down at your gaze, fearful of your reaction when you’d figure out who he was. How this would look. Him, in all his ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’ glory, and you, the Underground’s most dangerous criminal. He wouldn’t be able to stand the flash of betrayal he knew he’d see in those familiar eyes.

Unable to stop your heart shattering as Una turned and ran, you took a breath. Raising your hands once again, you allowed soldiers to pull each arm out by your side as they began searching your body for weapons. You always made a habit of bringing a ridiculous amount of knives and blades with you on every job. And this was no different.

“That was honourable of you, Raven,” Erwin was the first to speak, though the title now made you scoff. You wouldn’t tell them your name, not yet anyway.

One of the soldiers patting you down was forced to gesture to a friend, her own hands now full of your various weaponry. And that was only your belt. You flicked your eyes to the three in front of you. The woman looked like she was going to burst any second.

“THAT WAS INCREDIBLE! Sorry, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. The way you dodged that trap was unlike anything I’ve ever seen! It was AMAZING! Who taught you to do that? The name’s Hange, by the way. Hange Zoë, science and titan enthusiast. I’d shake your hand but you seem to be a little tied up at the moment!”

The sudden explosion of excitement caught you off guard, your expression turning to one of sheer incredulous confusion, before realising you’d probably have to listen to her babbling throughout your entire journey back.

“I didn’t know you were going to torture me. Just kill me now,” you huffed sarcastically, expression darkening as soldiers roughly pulled your arms behind your back, clasping them in manacles after making sure all weapons were removed from your legs, your expression unchanging.

But that didn’t seem to deter the scientist. If anything, she found your attitude amusing.

“Wow! Levi, she’s just like you! Is everyone from the Underground so unapproachable?” she asked cheerily as the two soldiers holding your arms began to steer you away. But you refused to move. Levi too seemed stuck to the spot.

Everything went still, and it was as if nothing else existed but the two of you.

Ever so slowly, Levi pulled down his hood, revealing those dark bangs you remembered so clearly. Silvery blue eyes met (E/C) ones. It wasn’t quite the reunion either of you were expecting, but you were both here. Alive

“Levi…” you whispered after refinding your voice, torn between wanting to run to him and running away from him. Fear clung to your heart, knowing how much he would hate you for what you’d become.

Levi schooled his expression back to neutrality as Hange looked between the two of you.

“Do you two… know each other?!?!” Hange’s beam of excitement caused him to cringe internally. Looking you up and down, the raven haired man raised a thin eyebrow in what looked like disgust.

“Tch, no.”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting. You blinked in surprise, eyes narrowing to your previous lover, trying to mask your hurt. Maybe he didn’t remember you? But with the look of recognition in his stormy eyes, you swiftly ruled out that possibility. What you’d feared all these years had finally come to fruition. You’d found him again.

And he despised you.

Levi turned on his heel, stalking away from you as the two MPs tugged on your arm, finally prompting you to move. He didn’t think his heart could shatter much more. After losing his mother, his family, his home.

You.

He didn’t think he had the ability to break any further. But life clearly thrilled in proving him wrong.

꧁⎈꧂

The walk back to the surface was agonising. Both of you stealing glances at one another at every opportunity. His, masked with indifferent contempt, your’s overflowing with betrayal and rage.

How could he stand there and say the two of you didn’t know each other? As if you hadn’t been in a relationship for years. As if he didn’t know every little thing about you. As if you hadn’t shared his bed, moaning in ecstasy as he pried you thighs open, burying his tongue, his fingers or his length between your aching folds. As if you hadn’t heard every whimper and groan he could make, coercing them from his throat as you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. As if you hadn’t been the one to finally hear those three words you never thought he could say. As if they weren’t directed at you.

Great, now you were angry and aroused.

Dragging your eyes away from him, you focussed on the long street ahead of you, now failing to notice the way his expression shifted slightly as he looked in your direction.

As you walked, more and more civilians stepped out of their homes to watch, many of them nodding their heads in respect, or removing their hats in mourning. You return their gestures, refusing to let your head bow as you dip your chin in recognition.

Levi could do nothing but observe the strange reactions from the swiftly gathering crowds. Some of them even shout to you.

“We owe you, Raven!”

“Give those fuckers hell!”

“Don’t let them take you lying down!”

You chuckled in response, both a sound and expression he’d missed so dearly. It made those long dead butterflies flutter once again in his stomach.

Even more so when a little kid approached you.

“Miss Raven… Why are there soldiers everywhere?”

Your eyes softened to the grubby little girl, crouching down where you stood, much to your escort’s dismay.

“They’re here to make sure little squirts like you listen to your mommy and daddy and go to bed on time,” the kid squealed in delight in your words. You lamented your hands not being free, the temptation to tickle the little tyke almost overwhelming, making your wrists squirm in their restraints.

“Hey, get the fuck out of here, stupid kid,” the soldier to your left delivered a harsh kick to the child’s side, sending her sprawling to the floor and out of your way. You don’t think anything could have brought you more rage. Not even your ex’s indifference to your existence.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” standing swiftly to your feet, you glowered dangerously into the MPs surprised eyes, now struggling in his grip as the kid started to cry. “She’s just a kid, you foul mouthed, pig eyed, vile piece of shit,” if it wasn’t for your circumstances and situation, Levi would have laughed at your insults. Clearly you’d broadened your vocabulary since the last time he’d seen you.

It was only when you’d managed to deliver a harsh, bone cracking kick to the soldier’s kneecap did Levi decide he should probably intervene, as much as he’d originally intended to stay away from you.

Something he subconsciously didn’t want to do.

“Oi, move along. I’ll deal with her, fucking degenerates,” his sharp voice cut through the commotion, causing the soldiers to stop in their tracks and whirl around.

“Captain Levi, sir! We were just—”

“I don’t care. Go.” he ordered. If they were Scouts, they wouldn’t have dared to hesitate, but since they weren’t a part of his regiment, it took them a moment for the order to register in their small minds, before they scurried away.

As soon as your arms were free of their grip, you immediately rushed to the little girl’s side, cooing gentle reassurance.

“Hey, come on now, you gotta be brave, yeah? You can’t cry every time a pig like that gets the better of you. Hell, then I’d never stop crying,” your little joke stopped the kid’s sobbing. Clearly your reputation extended even to the children of the Underground. “Where’re your parents, kid? Where’s your mom?” you asked, ignoring the obvious gaze burning a hole in the back of your head.

The little girl sniffled, pointing back to the head of a worried looking young woman, searching frantically for her little girl. A soft smile graced your lips, before you gently gestured for the girl to run along back to her mother, that smile growing as you watched her scamper off and giggle slightly as she was reprimanded in a giant bear hug.

“You haven’t changed, have you?” Levi’s cold voice brought you back to reality, prompting you to rise back up to your feet.

“Thought you didn’t know me,” there was none of that friendly familiarity he’d seen in your eyes earlier. There was only cold, ruthless ice. He shivered despite himself.

Softening his own gaze as you turned your head to him, he could recognise that spark of hatred. He’d seen it so many times when you faced down some sort of oaf who’d decided you were easy pickings back when the two of you were teenagers. He suddenly felt a pang of pity for all those who had suffered under this glare.

It was indeed terrifying.

“(Y/N)—”

“Don’t fucking call me that. You don’t get to call me that,” you didn’t try to tame the loathing fury in your tone. You didn’t pretend you didn’t revel in that confused look in his eye. Good, let him be confused. Though you didn’t know why. He should know well enough why you were furious.

“Okay…” —Levi took a breath— “Okay. Raven, then. That’s your alias, isn’t it. Raven?” He didn’t know why he was asking you such an obvious question, but he couldn’t help it. He had a craving just to hear your voice. The same voice that had haunted him for years, the same voice that had awoken him from the few hours he would be able to sleep.

Still, where his tone had lowered, yours refused to. How dare he show up after all these years and then claim he didn’t even know you.

“Obviously,” you spat, pure venom lacing your tone.

“So this is where you went. This is what you did. You were a part of The Nest this entire time and you didn’t think to tell me?” it was his turn to spit, clearly whatever had caused his gaze to soften previously had been replaced by something you couldn’t quite place. You weren’t as good at reading him as you used to be. His face had changed with time, and he’d clearly learned to school his expression much better than he used to.

“So what if it was? You don’t know me, remember?” you couldn’t help but use his words against him, wanting to drive home how much it had fucking hurt. Your eyes flickered to the now blackened bruise on the underside of his stupidly chiseled jaw. Something ugly twisted in your gut, whether it was satisfaction or guilt, you couldn’t decipher.

As if in retaliation, his own eyes glanced at the almost matching mark on your chin, the same mixture of emotions flashing briefly in his eyes before he took hold of your arm. It wasn’t as rough as you would have expected, but if anything, that simply annoyed you more.

“Tch, just move already,” the two of you had started to draw more attention to your conversation than either of you would have liked. So reluctantly, you placed on foot in front of the other and started walking again, returning back to acknowledging and recognising the respect those gathered were giving you. You remembered everyone you’d helped. Bringing them food, water, medical supplies.

“RAVEN!!” A loud shout of your alias had your head whirling to the right, searching for the owner of the voice. “RAVEN?!?” a small, older woman pushed her way through the people, almost falling to your feet. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she looked up at you.

You recognised her as one of your regulars. Her son had fallen ill months ago, and needed a medicine the MPs refused to hand out if not for a hefty sum of money. You’d offered your services to her after seeing her begging in the street, the sight hauntingly familiar to you. “I… I wanted to thank you. For everything you’ve done for me. For my son. He— I fear he wouldn’t be alive today without your help,” the woman hiccuped through her gratitude, drying her eyes with a worn, stained handkerchief. Your expression shifted to one of gentle indifference. You wouldn’t make the same mistake of outwardly showing your caring side like you did with the little girl.

“Make sure he stays rested,” was all you said, before continuing on without the prompting of Levi behind you, who now stood still in mild shock. Watching as many placed a hand on your shoulder as you walked, your head still held high.

“I don’t know what you men plan on doing with her, but she’s only ever helped us. She’s a good person,” the older woman’s eyes only spoke the truth as she looked to Levi, who only glanced back at you in response, watching as you climbed the stairs.

“I know. She always was.”

You stopped and turned back before you left for good, eyes lingering down the crowded street, a thousand faces peering up at you. Hats in hands, hands folded over one another in mourning. You recognized that with your leaving, a lot of people will go hungry. Many will die of diseases or viruses without the medicine you could steal and distribute. You knew Prongs was good, but he didn’t quite command that same kind of respect you did.

With a final nod of your head towards the crowd’s respect, you turned and left the Underground, leaving your past along with it.

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: taehyung needs y/n to make out with him & she’s only doing it to be a good roommate

if the title didn’t get your attention i don’t know what will 

pairing; roommate!taehyung x reader

genre; this sits right on the line between nsfw and sfw?? i think the term we’ve established for these kinds of drabbles is smalmost smut,.,. smerhaps smut.,., smaybe smut.,,. stuckwithyouniverse!! roomie!couple but before they got together just because i wanted to see cocky tae again :’)) 

wordcount; 1.8k 

                                      »»————-　♡　————-««

one of the things that you enjoy most about going to a university with a big campus are the nice, relaxing walks along the tree-lined promenades while drowning out the sound of distracting chatter with your own music

after all, it’s nice to catch a bit of a break while going from one class to the next 

and you can get your steps in for the day at the same time which is an added bonus 

who doesn’t like bragging about getting 10,000 steps in on a daily basis?

and not to mention- 

“hEY-!” you let out a shriek when you feel someone’s hand wrap around your elbow from behind, and the next thing you know, you’re being pulled off to the side behind a tree and-

“jesus christ, taehyung-” you let out a breath of relief when you see that it’s only taehyung and you reach up to yank your earbuds out when you realise he’s saying something to you

“-ith me.” he blinks, “okay?”

“what??” you frown, reaching over to rub your elbow soothingly seeing that he practically manhandled you a second ago, “i didn’t catch that.”

“i need you to make out with me.” taehyung claps his hands together before taking a step forward and opening his arms towards you, “like- right now.”

your eyes widen in alarm and you resist the urge to slap him across the face 

“wha-” you shove your hand against his chest instinctively to keep him from coming any closer, “i’m sorry, what?!”

“i think the instructions were pretty clear,” taehyung’s shoulders drop and he lets out a quiet groan, “i need you to shove your tongue down my throat in the next three seconds-”

“yeah, i got that-!” you scowl, “you pretended to not know who i was two weeks ago when i said hi to you in the cafeteria and now you want me to kiss-”

“no, not kiss-” taehyung interrupts, holding a finger up to shut you up, “i need, like, a feverish, dry-humping session against this tree level makeout session-” he raises both his hands before shaking his head and taking a small step back, “okay, let me explain very quickly: do you remember that girl i brought to the apartment over the weekend?”

you let out a short laugh before rolling your eyes so hard that you swear you can see your pink, wrinkly brain that’s also laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation 

of course all of this is about a girl

the day taehyung doesn’t have a girl problem is the day the world ends 

“i locked myself in my room to specifically avoid meeting the girl you brought to the apartment over the weekend,” you cross your arms before letting out a huff, “because the last time you brought a girl over, she thought i was your maid and she asked me to make an egg-white omelette for her the next morning- which i did because i’m nice... and i guess i did get a twenty dollar tip, which was pretty sweet-”

“okay, whatever, it’s not important-“ taehyung reaches over to pinch your lips together and you immediately swat his hand away, “anyways, i thought it was pretty clear that it was a one time hit-and-run situation but apparently she thinks that we’re dating now-”

“oh, of course you think that because your ego is the size of planet earth-!” you scoff in disbelief, “because after spending one night getting not-very-romantically railed by you, she’s suddenly madly in love with you and your magical penis-”

“y/n, she took a picture of my class schedule in my room and she’s been waiting for me at the end of every one of my classes for the past four days-” taehyung hisses, pausing to lean over so he can check to see if his brand new lover is still hot on his tail, “i tried to break things off after she showed up to my class on monday and she just laughed in my face and said that i didn’t know what i was talking about-”

“what?” you gasp quietly before shuddering, “oh, god. that’s a little creepy- wait, but i still don’t understand how she came to the conclusion that you guys were dating if it wasn’t even explicitly stated that you were officially boyfriend and girlfriend-”

“i don’t know!“ taehyung snaps, “look, can you just do this for me first? i’ll answer whatever stupid questions you have later-”

“first of all, i’m only asking questions to help you figure this out, and second of all-” you purse your lips before raising both your eyebrows, “maybe if you were more communicative with your sexual partners, you wouldn’t have any of these issues in the first place- have you ever thought about that?”

“can you please not be such a dweeb for one second-?! c’mon, just-” taehyung leans over again and his eyes widen in panic before he’s ducking back behind the tree, slapping his hands on your shoulders, “y/n, there’s no time. she’s coming! fuck, she’s- can you please just do this one thing for me-”

“no way!” you scoff, shaking your head before brushing his hands off your shoulders, “i’m always picking up after you! you made your bed and now you have to lie in it-”

“what are you talking about?” taehyung frowns, “you know i never make my bed-”

“it’s a saying, you idiot-”

“what about if i cover the groceries for the rest of the month, hm?” he clasps his hands together before shaking them slightly, his eyes wide and pleading, “please??”

you open your mouth to reject him again before quickly closing it again 

hm

groceries are expensive

and if taehyung’s taking care of the bill for the rest of the month, that means you can buy whatever you want and he won’t be able to say no…

plus you can use your share of the grocery money to treat yourself to something nice 

oOh you could get yourself those platform boots you’ve been eyeing online 

...fine. 

you’re doing this to get free groceries and to be a good, helpful roommate 

you uncross your arms before looking back up at taehyung, “throw in the laundry and i’ll-”

“deal!”

before you get the chance to finish what you were saying, taehyung slinks an arm around your waist and yanks you towards him 

it’s only a millisecond later that he swoops down to slant his mouth over yours, the alarm bells going off in your head the moment you realize that the two of you are actually really truly 100% honest-to-god kissing right now 

he grabs your hands and forces you to cup his face (so it’ll help with hiding his identity) before he places his hands on your hips and gives you gentle squeeze 

and for a brief moment in time, you find yourself thinking that taehyung is... most certainly not the worst kisser in the world...

he tastes like that strawberry gum he’s always chewing... 

and his lips are awfully soft... 

and you don’t know why you never noticed but the smell of his cologne is really making you feel some type of way... 

...and did you just hear a soft moan?

“boo!”

the moment his lovely little girlfriend rears her head around the tree, taehyung pulls away and proceeds to bury his face into the crook of your neck, the hairs on your arms prickling to life when you feel him plant a kiss under your ear 

“oh! i’m so sorry-” she gasps before covering her mouth and letting out a giggle, “i thought i saw my boyfriend run behind here and i figured he was just playing a sexy little game of hide and seek with me-”

“ah, well-!” you gasp when taehyung’s hand suddenly slides down so that he can grab your right thigh and hitch it up against his waist, your cheeks instantly warming when he pushes you up against the tree, “i-i guess you thought wrong because behind this tree is me and-” you clear your throat quietly to prepare yourself for the words that are about to come out of your mouth, “me and my boyfriend playing a sexy little game of… public indecency...?”

“aw... cute! i’ll just leave you two lovebirds alone-” she crinkles her nose before wiggling her fingers at you, her right eye dropping in a wink, “i can’t wait to do that with my guy- i just have to find him first, that’s all...”

“i have a feeling he’s a lot closer than you thin- mmph!” taehyung reaches up and turns your face back towards him so that he can shut you up before you blow his cover 

you barely register taehyung’s lady friend bidding the two of you adieu because of how preoccupied you are at the moment, all five senses clouded with nothing but taehyung taehyung taehyung taehyung taehyung

the feverish making out from a second ago begins to slow, taehyung setting your leg down gently before he’s placing his hand on your waist again 

your arms are still securely wrapped around his neck and he can’t help but wonder how it’d feel to have your fingers tangled in his hair 

somehow, something about all of this just feels... right... 

but it’s probably just all in his head, right?

“mm... we should do this more often...” he jokes, oddly delighted to see your hazy eyes immediately lower to his lips when he pulls away, “thoughts?”  

...

“-!” you shove taehyung away from you when it hits you that the two of you no longer need to be making out and you clear your throat before reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, “y-you can quit slobbering all over me now-” 

“slobbering?” he laughs lightly, raising a brow before reaching up to ruffle his hair, “i don’t think i need to remind you that you seemed pretty enthusiastic to have my tongue in your mouth a second ago-”

“i was- i was method acting!” you argue, your voice wavering slightly, “i didn’t- i just- i only played along for the groceries, remember?”

“whatever helps you sleep at night, darling...” taehyung whistles lowly, shoving his hands into his pockets before turning on his heel, “thanks for the help!”

“i’m serious!” you frown, stamping your foot against the ground as you ball your hands into fists at your sides, “this meant nothing to me, taehyung! do you hear me?!”

“uh-huh, i hear you!” taehyung turns to smirk at you over his shoulder, “see you at home, girlfriend!”

teeny tidbits masterlist

[saeyoungchoismaid]

The King

Pairing: King!Lucifer x f!reader Genre: angst, fluff Warnings: uh minor character death, mention of war?, fighting, near-death experience???  Summary: Prince Lucifer, the eldest son of King Henry, has been exiled from his kingdom, but when his father becomes sick, he's supposed to become king once his father passes. The future king is to marry (Y/n) to join their kingdoms together. Instead of him becoming king though, his father chooses Lucifer’s younger brother to become the king.  Word Count: 5.3k words A/N: this fic is entirely based on the movie The King on Netflix!! I let you guys vote on who the fic would be about and most of y’all said Lucifer, so you ask and you shall receive!! If you want a better understanding to what’s going on, feel free to watch that movie!! The first part is from 13:25 and kinda just goes from there 

You feel your heart drop to your stomach when the man announces to the king, “Your majesty. Prince of Wales.” Your husband-to-be leans forward to look down the long row of men at the entrance, confirming that, yes, his brother is in fact here. After all this time. 

“My son,” the king starts, “come in.” You rise with the rest of the crowd, suddenly finding it hard to breathe as he walks down the aisle to the king’s throne, your hands starting to shake from nerves. Just how long has it been? Lucifer stops a little ways away from you, his eyes trained on his father. You could hear a dog barking outside the castle from how quiet it is in the room. 

You stop breathing when his eyes flicker to the right to look at his brother, only to freeze when they spot you right by his side. You stare right back at him, the sound of your heartbeat filling your ears. Both of you look away from each other when the king takes in a deep inhale before speaking. 

“I feel my life nearing its natural end, and yet, still even I must appear of ruder health than you.” He pauses and you watch as Lucifer blankly stares in his father’s direction but not actually looking at him. “The time has come for us to consider the issue of my succession,” the King announces, ending the sentence with a cough. This part makes you feel sick suddenly. 

Lucifer doesn’t know yet of his father’s decision? 

“You will not be king,” he states abruptly. Lucifer doesn’t react physically but you can tell, just by his eyes, that he is surprised, and maybe a bit disappointed, by this news. “While you are my eldest son, for reasons that are on display for all here to see, you will not inherit this crown.”

“Nor have I sought it,” Lucifer quips before you can even blink, venom dripping from his words. 

“That privilege and responsibility will instead fall to your brother Leviathan,” the king informs him. At the mention of his name, Leviathan sits up straighter. Lucifer’s eyes move to him before once again finding yours, his brother not seeming to notice the look Lucifer gives you. Well, he didn’t really give you a look, per se. Again, it’s in the eyes. 

I guess he’s starting to catch on to where this is heading. 

“He is soft, but he is eager. He will lead my army against the newly treasonous Solomon.” Your eyes flicker to your fiance, seeing him take a deep breath and look down. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he’s nervous about tomorrow. He wants to serve his father and make him proud. “I will assume that this news comes as neither surprise nor disappointment.” When you look away from Leviathan to focus back on the king and Lucifer, you find that Lucifer is, once again, staring at you. 

His gaze makes you feel pinned to your spot, air having a hard time finding its way to your lungs. “But it is my duty as king and father to say it to you directly.” His eyes finally leave yours to focus back on his brother, his eyes now pinning him to the floor. 

“And what of miss (L/n)?” Lucifer asks, your heart lodging in your throat at the mention of your name. All eyes turn to you but you can’t take your eyes off of those piercing, dark eyes. 

“Miss (L/n) is the bride to be of the next king, you know this,” King Henry informs. To prove his point, Leviathan reaches down and gently clasps your hand in his. You just hope that Leviathan doesn’t feel how clammy your hands are from how nervous you feel. You watch as Lucifer’s eyes flicker down to your conjoined hands, his own hands balling up into fists. 

“When do you fight?” he asks softly his younger brother, suddenly changing the subject.

“I set off tomorrow,” he informs, hand tightening on yours. “We fight by week’s end.”

“You need not fight. These feuds need not be yours,” Lucifer reassures instantly. You can see the fear and dread he holds for his brother. He’s never been much of a fighter. When you two would get into arguments, he’d either avoid the subject, instantly apologize, or avoid you altogether. When you were informed of his battle, you almost wanted to laugh. You’re sure that you’d do a better job at leading a war than he would be. 

“I have said what you were summoned to hear,” the king finalizes, bringing all of your attention back to him. Lucifer takes a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling, clearly trying to keep his composure. “Leave us now.” Lucifer smiles, the clear disbelief he feels being evident. 

You watch on with solemn eyes as he leaves, your posture suddenly slumping with dread. So that’s that, you suppose. 

Luckily for your fiance and King Henry, you were the best healer in the country. Well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration but you were quite good. Because of this, King Henry allowed you to go with his son to the battle. No one would say it out loud but you were all sure that Leviathan would somehow end up injured one way or the other. 

You walk alongside your husband-to-be, coming to stand beside him as he sits down in a chair. “Lord Simeon,” he greets before sitting. “Are your men ready for the day?” he asks once he’s sat down. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth to chew on it, a nervous habit that you’ve picked up over the years. 

“They are, sire.”

“Very good.” A pause ensues. “Tell me of your preparations.” When Lord Simeon doesn’t immediately respond, you cringe a bit. Leviathan just seems so awkward and out of place here. 

“My lord,” he warns, staring off behind you two. You turn around to find the true reason he had gone silent. 

Lucifer moves towards you all on top of a horse, his brows furrowing for a moment when he sees you. He slides off the horse as his brother asks him why he’s here. “I will not allow this havoc to transpire. I’ve come to see it stopped,” he replies, eyes moving to look at you. You think he’s going to address you but Leviathan speaks up before he can. 

“This is my battle,” his brother protests. 

“If I have my way, there will be no battle.” He pauses before walking in between you two, his side brushing yours. It causes a shiver to go down your spine and you’re disappointed by your reaction to such a simple thing. 

“You, come ‘ere,” he says to someone behind you. Your heart skips a beat at how demanding and confident he is. 

“My lord.”

“You have no place here!” his brother declares as he turns around to face him once more. You keep your back to him though, afraid of how your body will react to him. 

“Go to the rebel camp. Deliver the following message to Solomon. Tell him that Prince Lucifer challenges him to settle today’s score man on man. He and I. We will fight in our armies’ places.” This has you turning around to look at him, eyes widened and heart racing for a completely new reason now. 

Is he mad?

“Yes, my lord.”

“Who do you think you are?” the man who was answering to Leviathan just a few moments ago asks. 

“I am nobody to you,” Lucifer says with a shake of his head. Lucifer then turns away from him to walk to a tent to get armor, eyes connecting with yours as he passes. You want nothing more than to chase after him, beg him not to do it, but you know better. 

You know that once he puts his mind to something, there’s no stopping him. It’s something you’ve always both loved and hated about him. 

Despite this, you still find yourself following after him. 

You follow him inside an isolated tent, his back to you when you enter. You just stand there though, not knowing what to do or say. “You will not stop me, brother,” he says as he starts to unbutton his shirt. With no reply, he turns around and stops halfway down his shirt to look at you. Your eyes automatically move to his bare skin before you can stop yourself. To your surprise, he slowly continues unbuttoning it. 

“I think you’re in the wrong tent, Miss (L/n),” he says lowly, almost playfully, causing your eyes to move up to his. You gulp a bit, trying to think of something, literally anything, to say. 

“I’m not. Why must you refer to me in such a way?” you reply, slowly walking further into the tent. He lets go of his shirt when he’s done with the buttons, his upper half on full display to you now. 

“In what way, Miss (L/n)?” he asks, eyes boring into your very soul. You suck in a breath as you stop at the table between you two, looking at the armor that covers it instead of looking at him. 

“Calling me that. You need not do so. You used to just refer to me as (Y/n),” you reply softly, fingers brushing across a chest plate that is cool to the touch. You’d rather be touching his chest but you would lose that finger if you were caught doing so. 

“That was when I thought you were my bride-to-be,” he informs. Your breath hitches at this, your fingers coming to a stop on the shiny metal. Does his heart beat for you the way yours does for him? Is he upset about losing you and not at the fact that he won’t be king? 

“You may still refer to me as such. This changes nothing…” you argue, eyes still refusing to look at him. Your heart skips a beat when he starts to walk, moving to go around the table to meet you. You avoid him though by going around the opposite way. 

“My brother’s sudden role of becoming the new king changes everything,” he argues, stopping on the spot where you once were. You stop in his old spot, finally moving your eyes up to meet his again. 

You find despair and desperation lingering in his eyes but you aren’t sure that if he knows you can read him so well. He’s so used to hiding his emotions and being seen as emotionless nowadays. 

“It doesn’t change the feelings I once held for you…” you whisper, suddenly afraid that someone might be listening in now. He stares at you silently for a long moment, your heart beating faster at his pause. 

“Does my dear little brother know that I was your first kiss?” he asks, tauntingly starting to walk around the table again, to which you reciprocate by redoing what you had done before. 

“Whilst I was yours too, if I recall,” you tease right back, a smirk coming to your face. He hums and stops at the other end of the table, pulling you to a stop too at your end. 

“So, what are we going to do? Keep playing this game of cat and mouse?” he asks as he slips his shirt off and drops it to the table, bringing his hands to the table to lean against it. Your eyes flicker to his arms, watching as his muscles roll under his smooth skin as he leans against it. You gulp before flashing your eyes back to his strong gaze. It takes you a moment to realize what he just said. 

You sigh and cross your arms over your chest, turning to look away from him. You don’t notice how his eyes move to your deep neckline then, drinking in the sight of your cleavage from the side. “Lucifer, you mustn’t say such things. You know we can’t…” you trail off, not wanting to finish the sentence. Maybe if you don’t say it out loud, it won’t come true. 

Maybe there is still a chance for you two. 

Before he can reply though, you hurriedly change the subject. “You’re a fool to want to fight Sir Solomon,” you jab. You wanted to beg him to take it back, to not risk his life for something that isn’t worth it but, again, you know it’d be fruitless. 

“I am no fool, Miss (L/n),” he replies shortly, tugging on a new tunic that has a thicker material. With that, you leave the tent. You mustn’t get such fairytale ideas, like the possibility of you two having a future, in your head. You are engaged to his brother, to the future king, and nothing can change that.

“You have no place here,” Leviathan asserts as soon as his brother comes out of the tent. He fixes his armor as he converses with his brother. 

“You do not know war, Leviathan,” is his calm reply to his frantic brother. 

“I do know war,” he argues. He doesn’t. 

“You do not,” Lucifer speaks your thoughts without knowing he did so. “You’ve been recruited to our father’s madness, to wars that need not be fought. These men are not our enemies. Our father has made them thus.”

“Why then are you here? You so disapprove of our cause and yet, still, you find it necessary to upstage me.” You aren’t able to hold back a snort. Leviathan is sounding more and more like a child throwing a tantrum by the minute. The duo turns to look at you at the sound, making you quickly start coughing to hopefully cover it up, knowing that if one of the other men heard you disrespecting the prince, the future king, in such a way, you’d surely be punished. 

Leviathan is too much of a coward to say anything to you about it though. 

“I do this not to steal your thunder, brother. I do it to save your life.”

“Pardon me, my lords. Our herald has returned from the rebel camp. They have refused Prince Lucifer’s offer. They want battle.” You can’t stop or deny the relief that fills your entire body. You watch as Leviathan walks away, once again reminding you of a child throwing a fit by stomping their feet. You don’t know why he’s acting in such a way though. He got what he wanted. 

You look to Lucifer to find him already looking at you, your heart skipping a beat from his gaze. You wordlessly follow after your fiance, not trusting yourself to be alone with the handsome male. 

Your eyes widen when you see the man of the hour ride up to your side of the battlefield, your fiance pushing through his men to reach the front. Without thinking, you follow after him. You don’t trust him to be civil or to not be a coward. 

“Where is Lucifer?” he calls, making your heart fall out of your chest and onto the dry ground. Has he reconsidered? “I come to fight him in our armies’ stead.” Yes, he did. Oh god, you might be sick. 

“No. His offer was refused,” Leviathan responds instantly, your eyes moving the back of your fiance’s head now. For once, you actually agree with the man-child. 

“The offer has been reconsidered.” No, no, no.

“I said no!” he shouts, making you cringe a bit. You don’t mean to be so mean to your future husband but he just doesn’t sound threatening at all. He really does just sound like a child to you. 

“Why is the little dog barking?” he asks and you want to laugh but you also know it’s not supposed to be funny. But, c’mon, he practically just read your mind! “Hm?” he hums with a taunting raise of his brow at your husband-to-be. “Where be the big dog?” he screams, making you flinch at his sudden volume. 

In a flash, Lucifer pushes through men and comes to stand beside you. “It will be done,” he says with his eyes trained on your enemy. He goes to move forward but you grab his wrist before you can tell yourself not to, his squinted eyes softening when he turns to look at you. 

“Lucifer, please,” you whisper for only him to hear, your eyes starting to sting. What if he gets hurt? Or worse.

Solomon chuckles to himself as he looks between the two of you. “And here I am with the whoring fool,” he starts, Lucifer seeming to not care about the words coming from his mouth. He was overall indifferent until his next words. “Have you claimed your brother’s wife to be as your own? I’m sure you’ve taken her innocence by now too. Takes a whore to know a whore.” Lucifer pulls himself from your grip and marches forward, coming to stand next to his brother. 

“This fight need not be had, Solomon,” Lucifer warns, doing his best to remain calm when really, all he wants to do is punch him in the jaw. “My father will soon be dead. Your grievances will die with him.”

“Don’t be afraid of our small contest, young Lucifer. I promise to finish it quickly and not embarrass you too much in front of your new whore,” he taunts before turning away from him. “Come on.” 

Lucifer is quick to move forward, his jaw clenched tight before it’s hidden by the helmet he slides on. His tongue poking the inside of his cheek is still very visible though, letting you know just how truly peeved he is. 

“Your father is plague to England,” Solomon declares as he slides his helmet face down. “Come for me, big dog!” he shouts as he points his sword at Lucifer. Lucifer does the same before getting into position, your whole body shaking from how nervous you are. 

They start to circle each other and do so for a moment before Solomon speaks up. “Once I claim your head, I might just claim your brother’s too before taking your whore. I think she’ll love bouncing on my cock and calling my name,” he taunts, trying to get a reaction out of him. 

A reaction he did receive. 

Lucifer instantly plunges forward with his sword, only to be blocked and pushed aside. The fight continues on for a while, each one getting in hits and gaining the upper hand before it’s the other’s turn. Your eyes leave them as three men ride up to the fight, watching the two hit and slice at each other. 

Lucifer ends up dropping his sword while Solomon is attacking him, slyly grabbing one of the other men’s daggers as he backs away from his opponent. Once they fall to the ground, fear swallows you whole as it seems that Solomon will deliver the final blow. Before he can though, Lucifer trips him and brings him crashing to the ground and before he can recover, he moves on top of him and stabs him in the neck. 

You almost cry from the relief that you feel. 

He removes Solomon’s helmet before marching towards his brother with it. “Someday this will be your head. Dropped at the feet of a man who might otherwise have been your brother. Come with me, Leviathan. Please. Walk away from this field.” You stare at Lucifer in awe, feeling just how much he cares for his brother. 

“After you just stolen its prized scalp?” He’s joking. He has to be. “This is what will be spoken of tomorrow!” He’s not joking. “This field was mine!” he shouts. God, you’ve already said this so many times but he really is just a child on the inside. He’s acting like Lucifer just took away his toy when it was his turn to play with it. “It was to mark my dominion. Instead, now it marks only this head. This bloody head!” You look between the two, hoping for Leviathan to just let it go and to realize that Lucifer just saved his life. 

“Move!” he screams. Guess no such thing will be happening today. You watch him go before turning to look at Lucifer, only to find him gone. You quickly pick up your skirts and walk speedily to the tent he was getting ready in. When you arrive, you find him tossing his armor off and dropping it to the earth. 

He stops when you come in, his eyes holding all of the words he left unsaid to his brother. He doesn’t say anything as he takes off the last of his armor, gently setting it down onto the table. Without thinking, you charge forward and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“I thought you were to die out there today,” you whimper, letting your tears free and land on the ground by his armor. He softly shushes you as he wraps his arms back around you, gently rubbing your back with one hand while the other cradles the back of your head. 

“Shh, it’s alright, (Y/n). I’m alright. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, kissing your temple. You sniffle as you pull back, staring up at him with your watery eyes. You didn’t have time to pull away from him before his lips found yours. Now that they’re there though, you can’t bring yourself to deny him. You greedily kiss him back, praying that no one should walk in and find you two in such a vulgar state. 

He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before, stealing the breath right out of your lungs and taking it for his own. Your hands move up his back to his hair, tugging on the long strands as he slips his pink muscle into your mouth. A moan tumbles past your lips and onto his without warning, making him hum and drag your body impossibly closer to his. 

A man’s barking laugh from outside of the tent snaps you out of your moment of relapsed judgment. You pull away from him and listen to you both pant, breathing in and out the same air from how close you are. “I must go,” you breathe before disappearing from the tent in the blink of an eye. Once outside of the tent, your hand grasps at your chest, trying to calm your racing heart and the blush that is surely spreading across your cheeks. 

It was odd hearing the news of Leviathan’s death soon after Lucifer had defeated Solomon. You had gone back to the kingdom, thinking the fight was over, only for your fiance to continue on in his desperate attempt to prove himself. He met his end in the western fields of Wales during battle. You didn’t cry though, you simply frowned and looked out the closest window to you. You never loved him, but you did care for him, just not enough for you to shed tears over his death.  

Soon after his death, you find yourself standing amongst the priests and minions of the king, frowning at the ill king as he rests in bed. He wasn’t the best king to rule but he was usually quite kind to you, so you held no hatred towards the man. You look away from him when you hear screaming, a sigh coming from you. 

His son doesn’t feel the same way, it appears. 

You watch him walk in, flinching a bit when he refers to his father as a monster. He walks past one of the men, saying as he walks past, “Move. Leave him.” 

“The king needs rest,” another man argues, standing up to the angered man before you. 

“Soon he will have it,” he quips, moving around this man as well. 

“He’s dying,” the man hisses, continuing to insist that he leave the king alone. 

“Leave,” Lucifer breathes, the single word dripping with venom. The man drops his argument then, slowly moving out of Lucifer’s way. When Lucifer reaches for his father’s covers, you step forward. 

“Lucifer,” you say softly but it was like you weren’t even there. He tugs the blankets off of him and drops them to the floor, moving around the bed to stand on the opposite side of you. It seems he also realizes that you’d be able to calm him if he just gave you the chance. 

He doesn’t want to be calm though. 

You stand still as Lucifer places his hands on the bed and moves to hover his head over his father’s, leaning in to whisper, “You feel this cold? Wretch.” 

You’ve never seen him like this before.

Your eyes begin to water as his father shakily tries to raise his hand to touch his son, your hands squeezing at the sides of your dress as you watch him gently touch Lucifer’s hair. Lucifer begins to rock, seeming a little unnerved by this. 

“Lucifer. Lucifer. You must be king, Lucifer. Please. You must be king, Lucifer.” It was honestly a strange sight to see him so weak, to see him begging his son for something so openly. Tears started cascading down your face as he starts to have trouble speaking, his face scrunching up in pain and...disbelief? Regret? Worry? Fear? You aren’t quite sure. “I know not what I have done,” are the king’s last words before he lets out one last groan before going still. 

You wipe at your eyes and cheeks, turning to watch Lucifer leave his father’s side to stand before the others. They all start to bow and get on one knee, your eyes widening a bit at the realization that he really is the king now. 

You lower yourself into a curtsey, watching fresh tears leave your eyes and fall to the wooden floors. “You know not what will become of you. So, I offer you this. The most blessed reprieve, the most dreadful misery. You shall suffer the indignity of serving me, the wayward son you so revile. But know now that you will be watched over by an altogether different king.” 

With that, he brushes past everyone to leave the room. You raise from your curtesy to quickly follow after him. You don’t bother calling out to him as you follow him, wiping away your final tears before taking a deep breath. 

When he finally stops, he is in front of a grand window that looks over the front of the castle and shows snippets of the town where he’s been living. “Lucifer,” you whisper as you come up to him, noticing that he seems to not hear you. You aren’t sure if this is because of how quiet you are or because he is stuck in his head. 

Becoming the king can do that to you. 

You quietly come up behind him and slowly wrap your arms around him, leaning into his back. You feel his body shaking, soft cries escaping him as you silently hold him. You feel his arms come up to rest on yours, tears splattering on your sleeves and skin. You let him cry though, not making a peep. 

There’s nothing you could say that would heal him right now. 

You’re there for every part of the ritual that Lucifer must complete to become king, your heart seeming to race the entire time. You don’t shout along with everyone else as he is pronounced king, everyone joyously shouting, “King Lucifer!” over and over again.

You’re right beside him at the table as you and the king's companions and allies eat to celebrate his success, your hands secretly conjoined with his underneath the table. Your new relationship, if you would even call it that, didn’t need to be a secret anymore, seeing as how he is king and you are to marry whoever the new king is to be, but just yesterday it was his brother and it almost feels wrong to be with Lucifer now.

Not that you were complaining one bit. The man beside you has had your heart since the beginning. 

You watch as the gift bearer announces gift after gift and you continue to watch on as Lucifer gives every single gift away to someone else. He’s so noble. It makes you swoon each time you see him act in such a way. It wasn’t until Dauphin’s gift was presented that his mood suddenly shifted. 

“From the Dauphin, son of his majesty Charles, King of France,” the announcer says before stepping to the side to allow Lucifer access to whatever was inside the decently sized box. Your brows furrow as you watch him stare down into the box, becoming more concerned the longer that he doesn’t move. He finally reaches in and takes out something that you cannot see. You don’t have to wonder for long what it is since he announces it. 

“A ball.” A heavy pause. “There is no accompanying message from the Dauphin?”

“No, my liege.” Another long pause. 

“I shall keep this gift. This one is sent only for me. For the boy I once was,” he says softly before throwing the ball against the wall and catching it single-handedly. You aren’t sure why such a simple action makes heat come to your cheeks. He then walks back over to his seat and sets the ball down but doesn’t set himself down. 

“I have a gift of my own that I’d like to present now,” he says as he raises his hand to cut off the announcer from announcing whoever’s gift was next. Everyone appears just as confused as you, your eyes turning up to look at him instead of the announcer. You find his eyes already on you, along with a gentle smile. “(Y/n),” he says as he offers you his hand for you to take. You wait for him to continue but he says no more. You gently place your hand in his and allow for him to help you stand, your free hand gathering up your dress. He leads you to the fireplace behind your chairs, the heat of the fire not helping the blush that appeared only a moment ago. 

“My darling (Y/n), ever since I met you, I knew you and I were to be wed someday. Now that I am king, that day is closer than ever before. I hope you will accept my gift,” he says softly to you, not really caring if others heard him or not. He then removes something from his pocket before going to one knee, your eyes widening even though you two are already engaged. You look down to your left hand and see the ring that has been passed down through his family for generations. His eyes move to where yours are, a small grunt leaving him as he brings one hand to take it off. “My gift to you is a proper proposal that you may decline if your heart so desires. I shall no longer ask you to be my wife because it is your duty. I shall ask you to be my wife because I want you to be.” Your eyes sting at his confession, your heart trying to beat out of your chest to fly into his hands. 

“I want to be with you too, Lucifer,” you whisper, afraid if you spoke any louder, your voice would give out. He smiles brighter than before as he slides the ring he picked out onto your ring finger, putting the old ring into the box in place of the new one.

He then stands and wraps his arms around you in a hug, your eyes burning from the oncoming tears. He swiftly pulls back though to share a passionate kiss with you, clapping and shouts of joy ringing around you. When you both pull away from the kiss, you let out a watery laugh as you look down at the beautiful ring. “You and I will rule this kingdom together until we meet our end. You shall be by my side every step of the way, no matter what hardships we may encounter. I love you, (Y/n).”

You sniffle and wipe at your teary eyes with a big smile. “I love you more, Lucifer.”

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⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[mha-platonic-yanderes]

Settling In: Parentals

Inspired by @i-cant-sing and their Yandere Todoroki Clan AU

The room is pink. Well, it’s mostly pink. It’s pink with white furniture and embellishments. The closet doors are white and so is the windowsill. The floor is hardwood brown. But everything else is a bubblegum pink.

You’d prefer another color, one that wasn’t so bright and grating to the eyes. But you don’t say that. You just fiddle with your one dufflebag’s handle. This is all you have left, after bouncing around from group home to group home. A year ago—when your parents died—you had thrice as much. Now this and the backpack for schoolwork is all you have left.

“Do you like it?” The mother of this house and wife to the current number one hero, asks you a question. He’s not here; nobody’s here except you two. The house seems too big for three people, but there are pictures on the wall of others. It doesn’t look lived in; there is no semblance of a family. Though, the pictures on the wall show a six person family. It shows that there are four more people here and you get your own room. In a house with now seven people, you get your own room and you aren’t giving it up.

Despite the pink color and the vast emptiness, you answer honestly, “Yeah, I do.” You do like it, even if it's not for the right reasons

Her hands are on your shoulder. You can feel the increased pressure on one side lift up, almost as if she’d been purposefully holding onto you too tight.

“Good. Now, let’s unpack.” She gracefully takes the bag out of your hand, setting it atop the bed. You sit down alongside it, opening your backpack. A couple of notebooks, pencils, and two textbooks sit inside.

You start to stand, heading to take the materials to the desk they’ve provided. Though, whilst holding a pair of pajamas—slightly too little but in [y/f/c]—she takes the books out of your hand.

“Just relax, [Y/N].” Rei replies, “Let me handle it.”

You sit on the bed twiddling with your blouse’s edge. You wore your best outfit, even though it was just your school uniform, without the frumpy sweater. 

The bed is insanely soft. With satin sheets, a thick, fluffy comforter, and a healthy amount of pillows, it's easily the softest place you’ve been.

“I’ll have a driver return your school books back to your former school.” Rei replies, on the other side of the room. You shift to look at her, but she has her back turned to you. “I’ll discuss with my husband what school to place you at.”

“Alright.” You’ve had to transfer schools about three times since last year. Moving again isn’t a hassle anymore. You know not to hope you won’t move again. Though. you know not to get attached to anything in case you have to—in case this doesn’t work out.

“We’ll get you a better education than the one you were definitely receiving.” You can hear the gentle thump of one of your textbooks. She heads back to your duffle bag; it’s now half empty. “My eldest three all went to Somei Private Academy for junior high. Two ended up continuing through highschool as well. My eldest went to Shiketsu and my youngest is in Yuuei now.”

You know those schools. They’re expensive, private academies. You’ve only ever been in public schools. The wealth was obvious when you were picked up in a blackened car with a driver. You just didn’t expect them to spend that money on you, a lowly orphan.

“Or we’ll just hire a set of tutors like we did for our youngest before he went to Yuuei.” She decides what to hang up or fold. You’ll have to go through it all later to find everything. Luckily, you don’t own much—or unluckily, depends on how you look at it. But you don’t dwell on the issue long, responding quickly to the lady, “Alright.”

She smiles at you. It’s sincere, motherly. It’s what your mother would’ve done, before the accident. It’s something you sorely missed since then.

“You’re extremely agreeable, aren’t you?” She finishes out the bag, pressing it into the top of your closet. Your backpack gets sat beside the desk. This room is large and your things are set in its appropriate places across from it. 

“I guess.”

“That’s a good thing, darling.” She goes to mess with your hair, “Now, for dinner tonight, let's change you into something a bit nicer, yes?”

You pause, looking at your toes in their pristine white socks. You can see her legs as well, considering how close she is to you, “This is the nicest thing I own.”

“That’s fine. We’ll just have to go shopping for some new things.” Rei replies, taking her other hand to your chin, forcing you to look her in the eyes, “Enji and I know what we are getting ourselves into, buying you a whole new wardrobe will be nothing.”

She takes her hands from your head and into your hands, helping you up.

“Where are we going?” She leads you back from your room to the rest of the house.

“Shopping, darling.” Rei replies, “We have five hours to do so, before I must start dinner, that is. Is there anything you want?”

“No, not really.” She’s already planning to drop a substantial amount of money on you and she’s already being incredibly maternal. You aren’t going to stretch that patience thin and have her snap already. You aren’t going to ruin this for yourself.

She smiles at you, “I’ll figure out what you like soon enough.”

===

The shopping mall standing in front of you was not where you usually would’ve gone. A basic department store, maybe a strip mall if you’re lucky would be where you usually shopped. This place however, is at least four stories high standing stark white and black against the almost colorless blue-grey sky. Though, you don’t get to admire it long. Rei quickly pulls you out of the cold outdoors and into the perfectly heated building.

“Now, I say we head to clothing stores first and then to more home goods type stores, so we don’t have to pack the heavy stuff around. Though, if we get too much to carry, we can send it back to the car and then continue shopping.” Rei replies, “Is that alright?”

You nod, still reluctantly going along this whole situation. The car is actually a limo and you have your own room in a massive estate. You have an impossibly nice and maternal caretaker who’s insanely rich. This is your “Annie” moment; this is your fairytale scenario. The shoe has to drop at some point. You aren’t going to be blindsided when it does.

“Good.” She locks arms with you, holding you close. It’s weird, but not entirely uncomfortable. You want to trust her. Your sense of judgement is clouded, knowing that she can’t really be this nice, but you want her to be like this

She leads you into a clothing store, taking you to the brightly colored section. Rei silently holds a peach colored sweater up to you. She grabs an orange skirt, looking at them both together.

“What do you think of this?” She asks, holding them up together. The sweater is thick, 

assumedly warm. The skirt however, isn’t,. You tell her that.

“That’s what some white stockings are for [y/n].” She laughs lightly, “and please call me Rei. You don’t have to be so formal.”

“Alright... Rei.” Acclimating to her is easy. At the moment, you don’t care what the rest of her family is like, she’s nice and maternal and everything you miss from your own mother.

She grabs multiple sweater and skirt combinations, not grabbing a single pair of pants for you. This store doesn’t sell tee shirts or blouses, sticking to a younger, but put together catalog. You briefly entertain the idea of them being traditionalists, but you don’t mind that. You’ve lived in worse houses than one with conservative ideals.

And besides, the outfits are cute. You hope you can keep them if everything goes south.

“Put these on.” She hands you the clothing, “and I want to see every outfit you try on. I want to see if it looks good.”

The fitting rooms are nicer than any you’ve ever been to. When checking the price of the items she’s handed to you, you can see why. The least expensive thing is a 10,000 yen skirt. It’s plain blue, just like the 1,500 yen one you have on now. It's obviously of higher quality, but guilt pangs in your chest at the thought of her spending so much money on you. This is at least a dozen items in here.

You slip it on, alongside the white sweater, filled with gold stars. You look at yourself in the mirror, before heading out the door. Rei sits in a chair, looking at you.

“You look absolutely adorable.” Rei comments, “We’re keeping it.”

She doesn’t let you put your input in. But she’s paying for it, so you don’t complain.

Five more times, you come out in sweater and skirt combinations. She has nothing but praise for each outfit. It’s refreshing. Your last home was less than pleasant.

Rei leaves you to change back into your uniform. All six outfits are bought and placed into two bags, both on her arm away from you. She wraps her other arm into the crook of your arm.

“Onto the next store we go.”

As you all head to a different floor of the mall, you voice concerns you originally had back in the dressing room, “You know… you don’t have to spend so much money on me.” You tell her, then backtrack, “Not that I’m not grateful! I am really! It’s just that I don’t need stuff this fancy, you know?”

“[Y/N], I am your mother now. It’s my duty to get you clothes and stuff.” She says it with a certainty that is oddly comforting. Everything about her is that way, from her soft, smooth skin to her warm, grey eyes to her bright, white smile. She’s intensely maternal, something that you didn’t realize you wanted anymore, until today, “and we must keep you up to the Todoroki standard. After all, you’re going to be one of us for now on.”

Being one of them. You don’t know of any Todorokis; you’ve never been a huge fan of heroes like some of your peers. But belonging, that’s something you’ve craved since it was ripped away from you. A family—that’s what you’ve always wanted.

“All right.” 

“Chin up, shoulders back.” She tells you, “You’re new life begins tonight.”

===

Rei never let you carry a single bag throughout your trip. She also wouldn’t let you see any of the receipts or let you have a final word on anything you got. But, you got all nice things—all things you like. So, you don’t mind.

“Change into the white dress with the red and pink roses.” She instructs, “And redo your hair. First impressions are important, after all.”

You haven’t met her husband, nor any of her children. But, as the pictures on the wall show, her husband is Endeavor, the number one hero. Usually you’d meet the person fostering you beforehand, but with his affluence, there needed to be no meetings beforehand. 

Following her instructions, you rifle through the bags, finding the dress she wanted you to wear. Slipping out of your old clothes and into the cold, expensive dress is a quick process. Doing your hair to a standard that would make her proud, is not. Eventually you get it right. 

Unlike earlier, you take the time to unbag your stuff. You mimic what Rei did in your closet. Shirts, sweaters and dresses are hung up. Skirts, leggings, and stockings are folded in the dresser. The shoes are placed on the inside of your closet. The few decorations you got are placed so that they don’t move what Rei and her husband already got you. She’s extremely peculiar about order. You won’t break that order.

“[Y/N].” She knocks on the door that doesn’t lock, “What’s taking you so long. Do you need help?”

You open the door for her, “I was just putting everything away, Rei.”

She comes in, looking at the room. She pulls the draws out and reopens the closet door, looking inside them. It’s an inspection, to see if everything is up to code.

Rei pinches your cheek, “ It’s perfect, exactly how I imagined it.”

Perfect. She’s praising your work. The word warms your heart, bringing a smile to your face. You haven’t gotten enough praise in your life, clearly.

“Thank you.”

“Now come on.” She tugs at your wrist, “Enji will be here any moment and I need help plating the table. Usually Fuyumi would do it, but you’ll meet my other children at a later date. Tonight is just about you, me, and Enji.”

“Alright.” Relief settles from your scrunched up soldiers. You only have to meet one new person, not five like you assumed. One person is better than five people—even if he is the #1 Hero. 

You’re led back through the sitting room and into the dining room. It’s nice, well lit. It’s low to the ground and cushioned. You’ve expected this from this house. Every room besides your own is extremely traditional. You expected the whole house to be like this, once you walked through the doors.

“The plates and cups are in the left cabinet, do be careful with them.” Rei points to a side room, at the back of the dining room, “I’ll bring in the cutlery. Enji should be here soon.”

As if on cue, you hear the front door being opened. A low voice calls out, “Rei, darling? [Y/N]?”

You freeze, plates and cups in hand. Something about the number one hero calling out of your name unsettles you. Though, somehow immediately aware of your apprehension, Rei places a cold hand against your back. You can feel it through the dress, which isn’t surprising, considering how thin it is.

“We’re in the dining room, honey.” Rei takes the plates and cups from your hands, placing them down and simultaneously leading you to your seat. You sit, legs together and bent to the side. You sit currently in the seat to the left of the table’s end. 

The number one hero—Rei’s husband—kisses her cheek. He towers over her. She was waiting for him at the entrance. You try not to make any noise; you try not to interrupt them.

She heads to the seat across from you, leaving Endeavor to sit at the head of the table. You aren’t surprised; this family gives of very traditional vibes. He radiates heat to your right, still aflame, showing off his powerful quirk.

The food is already on the table. It’s more than enough for the three people here, possibly more than enough for the six people in the photos—plus yourself. You make your own plate, only getting what you know you’ll eat. You don’t want to take too much, you don’t want to be greedy. 

“Make sure you actually get full, [Y/N].” Rei smiles at you. It’s warm and soft.

“I am, Miss.” You can feel Endeavor staring at you, but you don’t look at him. You shift your head down, looking at the plate in front of you. You don’t grab more; you don’t want to ruin their hospitality with your selfishness.

Rei and Endeavor talk to themselves, mostly about work. They occasionally talk about three other people—Shoto, Fuyumi, and Natsuo. There are four children in the photos on the wall; it’s a family of six. Though, you don’t ask about the unnamed child, it isn’t your place to do so.

You finish your food fairly quickly, but so do the other two. You look up at Endeavor for the first time tonight, asking, “Can I be excused, sir.”

“No.” He replies, “We have things to discuss.”

“Oh… alright.” You fiddle with the hem of your dress underneath the table, “What do you want to discuss, sir?”

“I’ll take the dirty dishes and excess food.” Rei smiles at you, “You’ll be fine, [Y/N]. Pass me your plate.”

Endeavor waits for Rei to leave to start talking. You are acutely aware of how hot it is now, without Rei’s cooling, calming effect.

“How was your day today?” He starts the conversation off decently well. You look him in the eye, “Good.” You were taught manners growing up; you know how to hold a conversation, no matter how intimidating the person you’re talking to is.

“That is a pretty dress on you, [Y/N].”

“Thank you.”

“Now then. While you are here, there shall be rules you will follow. Rei and I have devised a fair list and she’ll go over them with you extensively in the morning.” He tells you, “Though, the ones concerning you tonight are: no technology post-dinner and that you shall be in bed by ten o’clock. Rei shall wake you up at seven am tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Those aren’t too harsh rules; other homes have had worst lists. Though, you won’t make a final decision on that until tomorrow. You tentatively ask another question, “Uhhh, sir. Rei mentioned other children. If you don’t mind me asking, where are they?”

“Shoto goes to U.A. They have dorms now and are forced to stay there. Fuyumi and Natsuo have since moved out, but visit occasionally. You’ll meet them when it is appropriate.” Endeavor tells you, “And [Y/N], call me Enji. You are now dismissed.” 

“Alright, Enji.” As you stand to leave, you use his name, “Thank you.”

[wh6res]

UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic. 

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane." 

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears. 

"bitch," you mutter under your breath. 

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again. 

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?" 

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway. 

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?" 

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him. 

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath. 

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement. 

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year. 

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her. 

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" 

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living. 

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing." 

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done. 

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way. 

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement. 

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears. 

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend. 

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word. 

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel. 

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode. 

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information. 

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics. 

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve. 

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too. 

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today  —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?" 

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind. 

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head. 

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest. 

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!" 

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys. 

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history." 

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said. 

"do you really want to know why?" 

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart. 

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss. 

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone. 

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment. 

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day. 

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor. 

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down. 

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud. 

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand. 

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't… 

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper. 

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused. 

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going. 

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back. 

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video. 

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers. 

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples. 

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration. 

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin. 

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day. 

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder. 

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp. 

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time. 

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside. 

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home. 

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off. 

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung. 

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him. 

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with. 

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it...  but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you. 

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob. 

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face. 

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3

[diavolosthots]

Hey man so idea. Some angst with mammon when he realizes he might not be a good choice for mc because of his financial issues and then mc telling him that it's ok.

Its 12:03 am which means my day off is over so here is this

Warning: VERY MILD angst-> happy ending

Greed and Money (MAMMON X GN!READER)

Greed. The word is most often associated with money, but greed can be so much more than that. Greed can be for power, or knowledge, or even something as simple as food and exercise. You can be greedy for a sense of family, or your life’s purpose. Greed, by definition, is the intense, and more often than not, selfish desire for something; a desperate need or yearn to have something, to own it, that anything that stands in the way of it, can and most likely will be eliminated. Greed is one of the seven major sins and by far one, if not the, worst temptation to fall under, as a human being. Greed can most often be seen in political figures, or people with immense wealth, but one could also argue that Stephen Hawking was greedy for knowledge. The Avatar of Greed himself, however, falls very much into the main category; greedy for money and immense wealth. 

Mammon finds it hard to strive away from shiny things and Grimm, when in his mind, he could have it all. Of course, this has caused a major strain on his family and how they treat him. He’s very much the black sheep within the family, something you took very quick note of, and that’s why you decided to take him under your wing. At first, he was repulsed by that for many reasons. Things like, “I can handle myself (Y/N)!” or ,” I ain’t weak! I got this!” quickly became repeated phrases every time he was around you. Deep down, however, he came to actually like it. He liked that you cared enough about him to check up on him. Compassion and being cared for is something he hasn’t felt in at least a millennia, or so it seems, so moments with you quickly became his favorites. 

He began to fall for you shortly after too. At first, he reigned back, thinking that maybe he just liked the attention you gave him, but really, it was so much more than that. He loved the way your hands always grabbed onto him when you laughed, or the way your eyebrows lifted when he told a story that may or may not be complete and utter bullshit. He liked the way you laid your head on his shoulder and literally and figuratively kicked him in the ass on certain days, but as much as you seemed to like him and accept him, he can’t help but feel like he would be an issue to you in the long run. A burden. Just another responsibility you would have to handle. “H-hey… uhm…” and talking about how he felt just seemed so ridiculously hard, too. You’d look at him with these concerned puppy eyes and he immediately feels bad and quickly makes up a lie about how Satan tried to trip him down the stairs instead of talking about what’s actually going on. 

But he can’t hold it out much longer, not if he wants this relationship to become serious, but he was so scared. You always said you didn’t care about his Avatar, but he hated that you had that mindset because he IS his Avatar, and his Avatar is him. “(Y/N)...” he tried to start this conversation with you for the uptenth time already, but your eyes immediately had that wave of concern inside of them and he hated that so much, “what’s wrong? Did they say something again?” he didn’t deserve such genuine concern, not right now at least. “No just… just listen, will ya?” That only gave you more of a concerned look and now he’s confused as to what to do because if he keeps on you’ll worry your pretty little head off and he doesn’t want that, but if he doesn’t continue on then he’ll walk around with that thought in mind for a really long time before it ever gets brought up again. 

“Listen I…. I ain’t the saint ya make me out to be… I know I mess up, and sometimes I believe that what my brothers say is true a--!” “Stop. No it’s not.” You interrupted him, determined to get that thought out of his head because you were not about to let this amazing person have a depressive episode over nothing. “You’re an amazing older brother, and an amazing brother to Lucifer, no matter what he says. They can be harsh, yes, but I know they lo--!” “(Y/N)!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice and he heard too late that it had echoed off the walls and reached his ears again so he quickly took your hands in his to soothe both him and you, “that ain’t it. Just listen. What I’m tryin’ t’say is that I know I steal and I lie and I’m greedy… of course I am; it’s my Avatar. Ya always say ya don’t care about that, but I feel like ya have to care about that because it’s part of me! I ain’t the best financially… I’m only lucky to people who summon me.. Who get lucky enough that I’ll take their soul in exchange for immeasurable wealth…. But to myself …. I haven’t been lucky to myself in a long long time… and although I get money, I burn it just as quick. You know that, I know that too…. So I don’t know… I feel bad for being an unstable source in ya life because ya deserve better…. Ya deserve someone like Lucifer or Satan who got their life figured out…”

Of course, the truth hurts. It hurt him to admit that, financially, he is a failure and he would and could easily lose any and all finances either of you own, that’s why he wants you to think carefully about being with him and he certainly wouldn’t shame you for leaving him if it came down to it. If the roles were reversed and he was after someone who’s financially unstable, chances are he wouldn’t be running after them much longer, so he’s confused as to why you would keep running after and being there for him. 

“Mammon… I’m not going to leave you based on your inability to control finances. It’s actually laughable and kind of sad that you’d think so lowly of me. I love you for you and everything you come with, not some ridiculousness you decided to tell yourself. Yes, it’s your avatar, but it’s nothing that’s unmanageable. Satan can manage his anger, most days, and maybe you can try and learn how to control your spending and gambling on most days, too.” He kind of stopped breathing when you said you loved him so the rest barely registered in his mind, but that’s okay. He just feels overwhelming love right now and he’s genuinely thankful for you. “I ain’t crying…” you were about to ask what he meant but he already picked you up in an embrace, twirling you around with him once before setting you back down and just burying his face into your shoulder, sniffling a little. 

“I ain’t cryin’.... But I love you too… thank ya, you know, for being there and stuff… Thank ya for coming into my life and sticking around and accepting me…” You never understood why it was so hard for him to see that he was worthy and deserving of all of those things, but at the very least, it made you happy that you could bring some sort of happiness into his life. “You’re welcome, Mammon…. I’m not giving up on you.”

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Omg bae (respectfully) I need you to write the Companions reaction to Brother Thomas telling the SS to give them all their stuff, as in meaning they kinda have to strip-

((ENJOY BAE))

(Imma do something a little different and do platonic and romanced separate)

Cait:

Platonic & Romanced-

"Shit, you aren't gonna offer any caps first? Haha, seriously though- hope you like the taste of your own teeth, bitch."

•if there is one thing Cait can't stand, it's a con man. Even if he wasn't demanding something so radical, she'd still smash his face in for undermining your intelligence.

Curie:

Platonic & Romanced-

"Ah, i see. I trust we will be issued our very own ceremonial robes, yes? Très bien!"

•Dont..don't trust curie with things like this. She honestly believe they have her best interest in mind. Plus she'll get excited to have a whole new band of people to call friends.

Danse:

Platonic-

"Civilian, this is obviously a shakedown. Out of mercy, I recommend you reassess the situation. If you persist, I'll take it as a threat to our livelihood and deal with you accordingly."

•Danse usually isn't so quick to be violent, or threatening for that matter, but this was different. If asked, he'd probably brush it off and say that it was necessary so valuable brotherhood gear doesn't fall into the wrong hands..but honestly? His reasons are a bit deeper than that.

Romanced-

"Ask my partner to strip one more time and I'll turn you into a pile of ash, do you understand?"

•As unlike him as it may sound, this may just be an empty threat. At least in the sense that he wouldn't waste fusion cells, he'd just beat the crap out of Thomas. Now, Danse ordinarily would prefer just to intimidate, but for you it was more of his protective tendencies and emotions taking control.

Deacon:

Platonic-

"Hey buddy, at least buy us dinner first."

•He may be cracking jokes, but deacon is obviously very uncomfortable with the situation. He's already scanned the area and figured there was something fishy before Thomas' odd order- so having that bunch confirmed does nothing to ease his nerves.

Romanced-

"No."

•The most disturbing part was that he was so calm, flatly telling the preacher no. No jokes, no horrible distractions..just a simple defying word that almost promised horrible consequences if Thomas didn't relent.

Gage:

Platonic-

"Well boss, you want me to hold him down?"

•Gage would probably kill him just for funsies- but in this case, he'll just slash the clothes off of Thomas' back and make him parade around naked in front of his following. Maybe even whip him with a rolled dirty rag or some shit.

Romanced-

"You've signed your ticket, bitch."

•Won't even hesitate to start beating the shit out of him. It's one thing to disrespect your common sense, another to demand something like this from a raider boss..but it was an entirely more personal infraction to order around his loved one.

 

Hancock:

Platonic & Romanced-

"Hey, I know you. Didn't Ham knock you out on your ass for your crazy 'salvation' gig? You ain't nothing but a crook- about to be a bleeding one too if you don't step the hell back."

•Hancock would probably make Thomas cry from embarrassment. You don't "mess" with Hancock, especially if you've already proven to be an issue close and personal to his home. It isn't good for the health. And by good for the health I mean..well, look at what he did to fin.

Macready;

Platonic-

"Hah! You're out of your gourd dude."

•He doesn't even understand why the two of you are here! What's the point? May as well leave this place before he gets fed up and loses his cool.

Romanced-

"I'm sorry, did you just ask what I think you did? Do you want a rear full of lead."

•Initially, Mac would be dumbfounded. Was this clown serious? I mean...the numbers are in his favor..but damn. Even if he doubts he could win, he'd be willing to fight "Brother Thomas" if it meant "defending your honor."

Maxson:

Platonic-

"Civilian, I advise you to not make orders to those above you.."

•He'd probably try to intimidate the cult leader, puffing his chest out and stuff...but honestly he's hoping that Thomas will give it up.

Romanced-

"Do you have any idea who you're harassing? Cease this idiocy at once or I'll take care of you myself- and that's a promise."

•Okay, so maybe Arthur doesn't really want to have to deal with Thomas or his cult, but when it comes to someone threatening the person he loves- especially in such a humiliating way- he isn’t above putting his pride aside and choke someone out like a lowly raider. Also- no one threatens his coat.

Nick:

Platonic-

"We don't need this..."

•Nick is...tired. Why must you drag him into these kinds of predicaments?

Romanced-

"That's a bold command coming from someone like yourself."

•Don't worry, if Thomas persists- the infamous "beep, beep, beep" prank is sure to follow. That or Nick might call in some favors..

Piper:

Platonic-

"Haha..you're hilarious...you're joking though, right?"

•She knows he isn't- but she just can't handle anything like this. If you don't do something to ease the tension, she might just slap him.

Romanced-

"Woah, creep. Back off."

•She'll be more civil than she'd like just because he didn't outright aggress either of you, but you bet your ass she'll write as many slandering articles as she can so no one else will join his band of weirdos.

Preston:

Platonic-

"General, you aren't seriously going to...right? This man is obviously a thief."

•Though he usually doesn't like to pass judgement on others and give the benefit of a doubt, buuuut he can't let this one slide. He just sincerely hopes you won't give in...

Romanced-

"I don't know who you think you are but you've lost your mind!"

•He's never come so close to punching someone that wasn't technically "hostile" before. Preston doesn't even entertain the idea of you complying for funsies either.

X6-88:

Platonic-

"I'm warning you, step away from them now.."

•X6 plays no shit when it comes to someone being even halfway threatening to you. Don't expect him to hesitate "defending" you if Thomas doesn't relent.

Romanced-

*shoots him in the face*

[tenthgrove]

More yandere Tiziano can't squalo plz

Squalo and Tiziano- The Escape

Yandere Squalo and Tiziano x Reader (GN)

Content Warnings: Coerced Relationships, dub-con kissing, manipulation

(A/N: Since this request was quite open-ended I decided to take my own approach and write a short fic about what happens when you try to escape from them. This scenario is set in the same canon as the previous post on yandere Squalo and Tiziano, about a month after Reader is forced to move in.)

This house is uncanny in its shallow attractiveness. A wonderful meditteranean retreat, spacious bedrooms and sprawling gardens, two beautiful men who fawn and wait on you constantly.

It would be the stuff of dreams, had you not been forced to be here.

You awake to Squalo and Tiziano's voices calling you from the hall. You should have figured that your insistence on sleeping in the spare room last night would leave them extra clingy all morning. Every time you manage to get away from them for a bit, they always bring their affections back 10-fold the next time you're forced to wallow in their presence. Maybe it was a mistake, in retrospect, to insist on such a thing when all it ever achieves is putting off the innevitable, but on the other hand if you had agreed to one more night pressed between them like some wrangled stuffed toy you think you might have screamed.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that this will all be behind you in a few hours.

Your first port of call is to throw some clothes on and check the bags hidden away down the side of the wardrobe. You've been carefully shifting all your more important belongings into them for the best part of the week. God knows if they find them, no excuse in the world will conceal what your plan was.

::::::::::::

Breakfast is as you expect. Tiziano cooks for the three of you while Squalo whines about how much he missed holding you last night. You force yourself not to lash out at him since you know your plan depends on keeping them happy for the next hour or so. You smile, and nod, and indulge their petty conversation while you eat, before heading back to the spare room to finish getting dressed.

You see, the best part of your plan is that they know you're leaving today. You have their permission to go shopping and, with some convincing, to go alone. The 'escape' part is simply that you have no intention to come back.

You wheel your suitcase quietly down to the front room, clutching your handbag tightly. Inside is 300 euros that Tiziano willingly gave you, after you mentioned that a shopping trip might lift your spirits.

How kind of him to fund your breakout.

Your heart rises with hope as you fiddle the key into the lock, only to sink down again as you hear a voice behind you.

"You're not leaving without saying goodbye, are you Tesoro?" Squalo calls. Shit, he heard you. You quickly shove your suitcase behind a plant pot and put your hands behind your back before the pair join you in the front room. They smile, and you fight the urge to scowl.

"Are you sure we can't come with you, love?" Tiziano pleads.

"No. It's nice of you to offer but I'd really like to do this by myself," you insist, adding a curt smile.

"Alright beautiful, we understand," Tiziano sighs, tracing his fingertips up your arm in a way that makes your skin twitch. "Now, how about a kiss goodbye?" he requests. Your insides curl. This is the part you were hoping to avoid. Still, no point in dragging it out or you might never leave.

You take a sharp breath and lean forward, eyes closed. Tiziano's kiss is bearable enough, tender and gentle so that it's easy enough to ignore the sensation. That comes to a screeching halt when Squalo yanks you from his arms, smashing his mouth against yours like his life depends on it. You push him off in revulsion, but it seems he's satisfied enough.

"Alright beautiful, off you go," Squalo chuckles.

"Yes, thank you," you say. There's an awkward pause as they smile at you, waiting for you to leave. You'd hoped they would bugger off so you could get your suitcase back but that doesn't seem to be the case.

"Well, aren't you going to go?" Tiziano prompts you. You exhale.

"Yes, goodbye," you concede, walking out the door sans-suitcase. Damn, you really wanted to take your stuff with you but you guess you'll have to manage. As long as you've got your money and documents, you'll be fine.

You look back blankly at Squalo and Tiziano as they wave you off from the window. You won't miss those two.

::::::::::::

Your feet feel like stone. Walking for an hour was fine, two was uncomfortable, three was tiring and nine is getting downright unbearable. Barring your quick stop for lunch you've been walking non-stop and you're really starting to think you won't be able to make it.

Your original plan was to walk to your friend's house and plead for shelter, hence avoiding a risky phone call that might be traced by the mysterious syndicate Squalo and Tizianio claim to work for. You have high-confidence in the viability of this idea- your friend is hardly the sort to refuse to rescue you from a situation like this and they weren't on the list of relatives the pair used to threaten you when they first made themselves known to you. That means they don't know where this person lives.

But, all that's for nought if you can't actually get to the place.

In Squalo and Tiziano's house, control was always achieved through the fear of the power they might possess. Never once did they threaten to hit, starve, isolate or deprive you. And yet, every time they would passingly mention how their syndicate had eyes in every town and village, you felt yourself shiver.

You don't want to stop at a hotel. You don't want to stop anywhere run by people you don't know, just go straight from A to B. But this doesn't look anything like the area your friend lives in, and your feet are ready to give out on you.

Worse, the sun is starting to set.

Damn it all, you think. You make a B-line for the nearest hotel and force your fears to the back of your mind.

You know it's stupid, but you half expected a squadron of armed mobsters to burst out of the staffroom the second you approached the receptionist. Of course, Squalo and Tiziano have probably only just realised you aren't coming back and even then, there's no way they'd have found you this quickly. You remain calm as you ask for a room, even as the receptionist makes clear you aren't getting it without showing your i.d. No matter, you think. You'll only be here for one night.

::::::::::::

Dawn brings with it a new sense of optimism when you awake to find your hotel room as you last saw it. You're not in the trunk of the car, bound or threatened at gun-point, and there certainly isn't anyone clinging onto you in the bed. It would seem that you've made it through the night undetected.

In other words, you've made it through the hardest part.

You dress quickly and gather your things. You don't think you'll stay around for breakfast; it would be better to just pick something up from the shops and eat as you go. You found a hotel leaflet with a map of the local area, and it seems you're less far from your friend's house than you thought you were yesterday. With any luck, you'll have reached it by the next day.

And thus, your freedom begins.

You check out at the reception without issue and begin the final stretch of your journey. That's when you get the distinct feeling you're being watched.

You're not even at the end of the street when a car pulls up beside you, the voice within stopping you dead in your tracks.

"You know darling, it isn't usually typical to go shopping for 22 hours straight, but we're glad you enjoyed yourself," Tiziano cajoles. You snap around to meet eyes with him, sitting in his car with Squalo at his side, both smiling gleefully. They're enjoying this.

You look around, your ankles shaking as though you aren't sure what direction to take. The locals clearly take no notice to the sight of someone being hollered at on the street, and given how deep syndicate control supposedly runs in this area, you doubt they'd care much more if you were to be dragged in.

You could run, you could always run, but they've got a car and you're willing to bet quite a few weapons. Even if you gave them the slip, you're now close enough to your final destination that tracking you down would be a piece of cake.

Shit, shit, shit. You guess you don't have much of a choice.

Fists clenched, you avoid eye contact as you approach the car, climbing into the back with your head bowed in defeat. Squalo chuckles lightly.

"You're really too cruel, love. Forcing me to spend two nights without your embrace in a row," he chides you.

"Not to worry, we kept ourselves busy. Registering at a hotel in your own name? Really darling, how amateur!" Tiziano remarks. You growl lowly. That's it. Consequences be damned.

"How about you two just fuck right off to hell!?" you explode. "Damn the both of you! I was doing just fine until you waltzed on over and decided you fancied having me for yourselves! Fuck you! Fuck you both!"

Tiziano laughs.

"Oh darling, do you really expect us to believe you hate us so strongly when you were so quick to get into this car?"

"What?! That doesn't- You would have chased after me if I didn't!" you protest.

"Oh, definitely," Tiziano concurs. "But don't you think you would have at least tried to flee if being with us was such a horrible fate?"

"You threatened my family! You threatened me!"

"We did no such thing. All we did was politely remind you we're aware of your addresses," Tiziano reiterates.

"Like I don't know what that's meant to imply!" you fume.

"Alright, we'll play along. Maybe we were a bit pushy in making you ours," Squalo admits teasingly. "But I honestly can't remember the last time I saw you look afraid. Angry, yes. So attractively angry..."

"...But the fear your words would imply you feel for us simply isn't there, Amore," Tiziano agrees with him. He finds a suitable spot and pulls the car to a halt, turning to you fully. He takes your chin in his hand as Squalo brings a hand to your shoulder.

"Can you truly, honestly claim to despise being with us as much as you'd assert?" Tiziano presses you. You go quiet.

"Just as we thought," Squalo scoffs. "Now, I'd say we've both earned another kiss."