#my own pathetic attempt at hurt comfort lol

[jinkicake]

He Makes You Cry. 

Lucifer, Mammon, Simeon x Reader

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something like this for forever bc I love angst but.... don’t be fooled bc there is no angst w simeon (he’s too sweet and would never hurt you).... sorry! 

WC - 2.9k >:-)

~~~

((im sorry i had to put simeons first bc i love it and its my fav </3 like ignore luci and mammon lol))

Simeon

“This is for me?” You can’t help but gawk at the beautiful ring Simeon slipped onto your finger amidst your mini tea party. The thick diamond is decorated with a golden accent and even smaller jewels to accentuate the main stone. It’s unbelievably gorgeous and you start to doubt if your worth is enough to be wearing such a decadent piece.

“Only you can bring out the ring’s true beauty,” Simeon murmurs as his warm eyes run all over your shocked face, he makes it a point to memorize the expression. For too long, his eyes simply glance from one of your features to the other until he has you painted in his memory. “I do hope that you enjoy it, my love.”

You can’t wrap your head around what you must have done to deserve such a generous gift.

“Simeon,” His name is uttered from your lips in a gasp because moments later, you’re still in disbelief. “why?”

The angel cocks his head at your question, his smile faltering with a twitch of his lips before he plants a gentle look back on his face. He doesn’t understand.

“Why?” He repeats before glancing up at the crown model of the ceiling. The sunset of the afternoon decorates the room in a golden hue, a beautiful coating that makes you look even more angelic than before. Simeon doesn’t understand your confusion, don’t you see what he sees? “Because I love you.”

He wonders if that is enough of a reason, he hopes it is enough of a reason.

The angel carefully watches your expression morph into a frown as your lips press together tightly. You’re trying to prevent the tears that are pooling in your eyes but, try as you might, you fail. Simeon softly grimaces at your anguish, that is what your feeling must be, right? Did he go overboard with the gift? Do you hate it?

He thought you would love it.

“My light, what’s wrong?” He leans over the neatly set table and all of the cutlery placed to cup your cheek. You immediately lean into his warm palm and try to hide your face from him. The shaking of your head only serves to make Simeon even more nervous. “Talk to me.”

You cover your face with your hands, softly sobbing into your palms and Simeon can not hold back any longer. The angel gets up before moving to your side to kneel beside you. He grabs your wrist and then engulfs your hands in his own as he intently stares at you.

He looks and looks like he’ll be able to read what you’re feeling based on your expression. His heart hurts for you.

“I’m happy, Simeon,” You cry and gently pull one of your hands back to wipe your tears. The ring he gifted you catches the light of the setting sun and at the sight, more tears well up in your eyes. You can’t help but stare at the jewelry.

“Is it the ring?” Simeon whispers, he keeps his voice quiet as if speaking any louder will cause you to become even more upset. He’d hate to take the ring back. If you tried to return it, Simeon would not let you. The gift is yours, a special treasure of Simeon’s is now yours no matter if you fight it. The angel wants you to have it even if you don’t want it-

“I love it!” You gush and in a pitiful attempt to speak, only end up choking on your words.

Now, Simeon can see the adoration in your eyes and the way your face glows with certain happiness.

“You do?” He quietly questions back while tightening the grip he has on your hand, he gently squeezes your fingers between his own.

“I do! I do!”

He can only wish that your eager cheers were an answer to another question, one that he wishes to ask you forever and ever. The matter of whether or not you’ll have him.

Simeon is much too uncertain in himself to do that yet, but when the time comes, he’ll be sure to do it right.

“I’m glad you like it, it’s yours now,” With gentle hands, Simeon lifts your fingers up to his lips. He places a gentle kiss against each of your knuckles before turning your hand over to kiss the center of your palm. “your beauty outshines any diamond.”

You scoot to the edge of your seat before sinking out of the chair, you sit right next to where Simeon is kneeling and shyly look up at him. Despite your tears and swollen eyes, the angel still gasps at your beauty.

He rests his forehead against your own and watches your eyes flutter shut. Selfishly, he takes a picture in his mind and memorizes the soft curves of your face. When he’s done, he tilts his head and angles his lips to gently kiss you. The closed-mouth peck is innocent and remains so until the angel lets go of your hand to grip your shoulders.

His face tilts ever so slightly before you feel his tongue peek past his lips. You let Simeon kiss you and kiss you until he’s leaning you back against the floor and resting over the top of you. You let him steal the air out of your lungs and hold you incredibly close to his heart.

You allow the angel to coat you in his love, to pour all of his feelings into his touch while the heavy ring sits prettily on your finger.

It’s only natural to do since you love him after all.

Lucifer

“I told you not to touch those papers.” Lucifer’s anger is something that you’re just not used to (no matter how many times you’ve been at the blunt force of it). His current frustrations cause you to flinch and all too soon, your entire body begins to tremble under his booming voice. It’s as if your blood has run cold as you find yourself staring at the floor instead of his face. Try as you might, nothing can stop the bitter tears from appearing in the corners of your eyes. “Incompetent human.” His whisper is anything but quiet, you hear the snide comment clear as day, the tut of the nickname is nothing like his usual kind and gentle tone and is instead filled with endless irritation. 

In all the times you have helped him with his work, Lucifer has never gotten upset with you like this. Especially not over a small, clumsy mistake you made while organizing his many documents. 

His audacity nearly makes you scoff and any sadness that you feel is overcome with a wave of anger. You place the papers on his desk with firm palms before standing up from your seat. The loud screech of the chair against the hardwood floor forces Lucifer to look at you and only now, he can see the frustration welling in your eyes. 

The pool of his reflection makes his heart hurt. 

“Do it yourself then.” You snap and immediately head out of his office, slamming his door in the process. Such a petty act was an accident, his door is heavy and will always slam shut with brute force. You couldn’t find it in yourself to close the door gently, but, it’s not like he didn’t deserve it anyway. 

In an attempt to lighten the load of wallowing in your own pity, you head straight for your bed and straight to sleep. You’re blessed with a blissful nap for a few moments (hours) before it all slips through your fingers.

“(Y/N), dinner,” Your doorknob rattles under Mammon’s strong fist and the noise (along with his voice), bitterly awakens you from your slumber. On their own accord, your eyes automatically narrow toward the intruding noise. You try to drown it out with your blanket over your head but, it doesn’t work. 

The demon persistently toys with your door, annoying you with his presence. His scheme continues for a few minutes as you ignore him. You don’t give in and don’t reply at all, not even once. The silence that follows after he figures out you won’t open the door for him allows you to breathe a sigh of relief. 

Relief doesn’t bless you for too long though. 

A handful of minutes later, your door clicks softly as the lock of your doorknob becomes free. There’s only one demon that can actually unlock your door and the presence suddenly in your room nearly makes you suffocate. Out of habit, you curl in on yourself under your blanket to hide from him. 

Lucifer’s gentle sigh and quiet footsteps are not nearly as loud as the rapid thumping of your heart. You can barely focus, not when the sounds fill your ears and not when your bed dips under a certain weight. 

There are a few things that you can pick up. Lucifer has brought food with him and he places it on your table before sitting beside you. Right now, you can almost see the way Lucifer is sitting on the edge of your bed. You can’t fight the urge to simply check for too long. 

Timidly, you peek your head out from your blanket and keep the duvet tucked just under your chin while you look at him. Just as you imagined in your mind, Lucifer has his back to you (posture incredibly straight) as he stares at your wall. His softened eyes run along all the photos you have hung up and take in all the memories you have created in the devildom. His perfect posture bends ever so slightly as he sighs once again and reaches his hand behind to cup your bicep. 

“Eat, human,” He murmurs and glances back at you. You immediately hide from his stare as you switch to lay on your other side, your back now facing him. His previous insult still swims in your mind and you can feel your anger from before starting to resurface. The gentle touch of his thumb brushing circles into your skin works incredibly well to combat your heated frustrations. When it comes to calming you down, Lucifer knows exactly what to do. 

The room basks in silence, coated in a thick unmovable tension until you can no longer hold back any petty remarks. 

“I thought I was incompetent,” You sneer and clench your fist as persistent tears once again build up in your eyes. 

“Oh,” Lucifer murmurs and gently squeezes your arm with his large palm. “(Y/N)-”

“An incompetent human.” His words spoken earlier feel sad and bitter on your tongue as you fist your thick blanket in your hands. You try not to acknowledge the tears on your cheeks but it’s hard to ignore the wet droplets as Lucifer’s thumb wipes each away.

You hate that Lucifer’s approval means so much to you, that his thought of you can shatter your own personal image.

“You are not incompetent,” Lucifer promises before pressing his lips against your forehead. His gentle touch only serves to make you even more upset. “I am so sorry, my dear.” The bed moves underneath you as Lucifer lays down beside you, his long limbs fitting awkwardly into the small space. He takes no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest, ignoring how you push away at his wrists. “You’re my perfect assistant, capable of plenty enough. I spoke out of turn and I apologize.” Now in his arms, you bury your face in the crook of his neck and twist his thick jacket in your fingers. “Please forgive me,” Lucifer whispers against the crown of your head, holding you carefully as if you’re made of glass. He refuses to let go until he knows that you’re both okay again. 

Mammon

“Go away.”

“Leave."

“I don’t care what you do anymore!”

“Goodbye, human.”

Despite Mammon’s harsh words, you know that he doesn’t mean it. Reading the avatar of greed has become second nature to you now and you know that he is nothing more than upset. When the demon becomes upset, he has no better way to deal with it than to pettily push you away while simultaneously begging for your attention.

“I’m sorry, Mammon,” You try apologizing again, staring at him pathetically while he ignores you to count the bills in his wallet. His room has never been more intimidating in your entire time spent in the devildom. “I’ll make it up to you-”

“No you won’t,” He bitterly murmurs and lets his face fall ever so slightly. How could you forget the plans that the two of you made? “I get it, I’m not important to you.” His show of dramatics hurts, even if you don’t think you have a right to be. 

“Is that really what you think?” You quietly ask him, your voice no louder than a timid whisper as you stand frozen waiting for his answer. 

“You ditched me! No, you didn’t even ditch me because you didn’t show up! Instead, you were busy with Lord Diavolo.” His disappointment makes you feel awful and terribly small as if you’re being pushed into a corner. “What did I expect?”

“I’m sorry,” Again, you whisper your apologies. Deep down, you know that you shouldn’t allow him to dump his anger out on you like this. There is no reason for the demon to spout such mean things but, you let him continue. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re eager to hear just how far he will go with the disrespect. 

“Yeah, you should be.” Mammon ultimately sighs before stuffing his wallet into his pocket and standing up from the couch. He keeps his eyes glued to the ground, lips pressed together while thinking over his next words. “I just thought you were looking forward to our date as much as I was.” 

He doesn’t do or say anything else as he leaves the room, he merely brushes past you and heads to his door. 

Somehow, that simple action hurt more than his words ever could. 

“He hates me,” You bawl your eyes out, pitifully gasping for air while holding one of Belphie’s pillows to your chest. 

“No, Mammon doesn’t hate you.” Belphegor spits tiredly. He pushes his eye mask off his head before reaching over to pat your shoulder. “He might have been right to call you an idiot if you truly think that.” In their own way, Belphie’s words comfort you a bit and you stubbornly push your tears away with your sleeve. “The idiot just needs reassurance since he’s annoying but, you chose him.” 

Belphie rolls his eyes at the thought of his older brother being the object of your affection. He doesn’t really care but, it’s tiring to hear the demon gloat about it all the time. 

“Don’t worry too much about it.” He yawns, stretching his limbs for a few seconds before snuggling back into his blanket. “Let’s take a nap. 

You don’t get much sleep despite Belphie’s suggestion, instead, you do the complete opposite as you sit and think. It’s one thing to have Mammon mad at you but, to be disappointed? His anger seems much more preferable in comparison because you know he would never get angry with you (since he does love you and all). 

He does still love you, right?

In the face of confrontation, you usually run in the opposite direction with your tail between your legs. Why on earth are you now heading straight for the charming face of the secondborn?

You don’t even acknowledge Belphie’s lazy protests as you push his door open and head straight for Mammon’s room. You’re not even sure what you’re going to say to him, or what you want to say to him, as you shove your way into his secluded space. 

At the intruding noise of your arrival, Mammon pops his head up from the couch. At the sight of you, his shoulders drop and he lets his gaze fade toward somewhere else. Seeing him stare at the floor is nothing new, but you hate that he won’t look you in the eye. 

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” You try to keep your voice as level as you can but it’s impossible to do when it starts getting harder to breathe. Your throat has closed in and the pounding of your heart has become erratic, the room is now much hotter than before and you don’t even hear the sound of Mammon calling your name. All you can focus on are the tears on your cheeks and the thumping pain in your temple. “I didn’t mean to-”

Stress is always why you avoid confrontation but you just had to make sure he still loved you. 

“Oi!” Mammon quickly pushes himself off of the couch and is in front of you in seconds. “Hey, hey,” He murmurs, grabbing your wrists in his hands. “stop cryin’. It’s okay.” His heart aches when you shake your head. “Yes, it is. It is.” There’s something gentle about his voice, how he coos and tries to hush your cries. “I’m so sorry, human, I didn’t mean for you to get upset.” 

As smoothly as he can be, the demon wraps his arms around your shoulders and brings you into his chest. 

“I’m not mad anymore, never really was, I was just scared.” He places his chin on the top of your head while his hands gently rub soothing circles against your back. Mammon hates to see you cry and hates to see you upset. “It’s just- I was just jealous and lonely!” His heart aches at your cries and he starts to think that he has deserved every punishment he has ever received in the past. The demon can only pray that his touch will be enough to comfort you, to make the hurt stop.

“Listen. I love you, human, don’t ever forget that.”

[hyuuukais]

.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-

pairing • bang chan x fem reader

synopsis • fiction or reality? y/n preferred the former, escaping into another world, escaping her problems. so what happens when reality takes that away from her; wiping her own story-in-progress off both her laptop and beloved usb? and what happens when she opens the door in the middle of a crisis to none other then the love interest of her novel... and he's holding her usb?

warnings • general, food mentions, minho implies he wants to kill someone lol, y/ns ex is possessive, y/n is called a freak and pathetic

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER FIVE • AFTER THE STORM (1.6k)

"Yeah, no."

Minho blinks at you, confused. "Why not?"

"Why not? Why- Min-" you slump down into your office chair, laptop light highlighting your frustrated features. "I've moved on! I'm over it!" Chan's words echo in your head. "The past is the past and should stay that way."

"Clearly something thinks you're a liar," he crosses his arms. "Other than me."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You're clearly not over it! Why would you be?" He throws his arms up, looking at you directly. You avoid eye contact. "I wouldn't blame you if you weren't. That guy was seriously messed up."

"You don't know the half of it."

"So tell me."

Growing more irritated by the second, you push yourself up, looking up at Minho. Eyes meeting, he crosses his arms again, holding your glare just as intensely. There's something there- between you. Old tension, feelings of hurt and betrayal. No one knew you like he did, once upon a time, but could you ever get back to that?

Lightly, he brings a hand to your face, the other making its way up your arm, onto your shoulder. You sigh, leaning into the touch. Human connection never felt so good, so needed. He knew exactly how to make you give in.

"I'll tell you the basics," you say quietly, removing yourself from him. You choose to sit back in your chair, Minho getting comfortable on the couch.

"I always imagined myself getting married, having the best night of my life with the one I loved more than anything. I never thought it would be so scary," you begin, closing your eyes.

Images flood your mind; you in front of a floor-length mirror dressed in white, him behind you, pulling your hair back and breathing in your ear. He didn't have to say anything, just gave you that look. Clueless to your plan, he kisses your neck, whispering about how happy he was to finally have you forever. That if you broke this promise, something bad was sure to happen.

"You're mine," a shiver runs down your spine. "Only mine. Understand?"

Blinking back tears, you nod.

"Words, darling."

"Only yours," you whisper, and he smiles. "Always yours."

Pressing a final kiss to your temple, he leaves you alone in the dressing room. Finally, you let yourself break, falling onto your knees with a hand over your mouth to attempt to stifle your sobs. Makeup runs down your cheeks, and you can't breathe.

Someone steps into your room, lets out a gasp; they're by your side in an instant. Through your tears you can barely process Yeji trying to talk to you, trying to calm you down. Eventually your sobs lessen, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"Hyun's outside in the car when you're ready," she gives you a firm look. "Are you sure you want this?"

Her eyes are sad, knowing there may be a chance she'll never see you again. She was the only one who knew everything. Of course, you told Minho some stuff, mostly when he pressed you for an answer, but there were things you couldn't share. If you told him, he'd probably end up in jail.

"...then I left with Hyunjin."

Silence. Minho doesn't speak when you finish, just looks at you unblinking. You can't tell what he's thinking, but his fists are clenched at his sides. Shaking his head, he lets out a sharp breath.

"What?" You question. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that if I ever see that guy again, he's dead."

"...this is exactly why I never told you any of this." You can't help but laugh, and he stares at you harder. "As long as I'm here, neither of us should be seeing Yeonjun for a very long time."

Minho looks at you. "You said his name."

"Yeah..." You didn't even realize. "I guess I did."

Quiet settles between you two, less suffocating this time around. Sunlight peeks over the horizon, lighting up the room ever so slightly, and you realize just how tired you are. Yawning, you move over to the couch, draping your legs over Minho's lap. He makes a noise, pretending to shove you off, but you know he doesn't mind if it's you.

A few hours pass before you wake again, and the warmth of Minho is gone. Before you can wonder where he is, the smell of food wafts up the stairs- he's making breakfast. You stretch, wrap the blanket Minho must have put on your during the night around your shoulder, and head down.

"Morning sunshine," you yawn again as he scrapes the eggs onto a plate. "You literally have no food, so you better be happy with eggs again."

Waving him off, you sit, and he brings the plate over. This time, there's toast too, with the slightest bit of jam over it. He brings a matching plate over, sitting across from you this time. You think of last night, the heavy feeling in your chest seeing him again.

"You couldn't have used more jam?"

"No, actually, because like I said before you literally have no food," he rolls his eyes. "I used the rest up."

"We can go out today. Assess the damage of the storm." The eggs are hot, and you burn your tongue on an eager bite. Minho laughs at you. "Shut up." You make sure to blow on your next bite. "People usually are out helping others clear debris after a storm like that, but powerlines might be down more in town, so we have to be careful."

-

The roads are covered in bits of sticks and leaves, but the damage is surprisingly small. A branch fell onto a local shop, so most attention was focused there, allowing you and Minho to pass through nearly unnoticed.

Nearly.

"Oh, Y/n darling, who's your friend?" Mrs. Yang walks over to you slowly, her grandson close behind. "I've never seen him before. Are you new to town?"

"Ah-" Minho glances between you and the little old lady. "Just visiting."

"Well, you should come by sometime," she looks him up and down, a sly smile on her face. "Are you single?"

A blush spreads over Minho's cheeks. You stifle a laugh, he clears his throat, thoroughly embarrassed. Mrs. Yang spots his arm linked through yours.

"Oh! Y/n, you're not as lonely as I thought," she chuckles. Jeongin looks uncomfortable. "Although I thought you were with that boy over at the café... ah, I suppose I can be wrong sometimes." Your eyes grow wide when she winks at you. "I'll see you around, dear. My husband is over at the shop today doing small repairs, the stubborn old fool, so don't worry about coming in later. He really should call someone to do it for him..."

She mumbles the rest of her sentence, holding onto Jeongin for support as she walks away. You and Minho look at each other. This was definitely a great start to showing him around town. There were a lot of places closed up after the storm, so you couldn't show him much, but you stopped outside the little store you worked at.

"There's Mr. Yang," you say, pointing inside. "I don't know him very well, but he's a good boss I guess."

The one place you avoid is the café, but it looms ahead. Although you're sure Chan has probably forgotten about your little, ah, moment, it lingers in your mind. There was no reasonable explanation for his behaviour, or for the letter, or for your laptop becoming sentient, or-

"Helloooo, Earth to Y/n?" Minho grabs your hand, giving you a weird look. "There you are. I'm hungry."

"Hi hungry I'm-"

"Shut up." Letting go of your hand, he smacks your arm playfully. "The only place I can see nearby that seems to sell food is that guys café."

"That guy has a name," you roll your eyes. "I don't really want to go there..."

"Aren't you like.. a thing? Why wouldn't you want to go?

"We're not- we are not a thing!" You blush, looking away with a huff. "Whatever, fine, let's go."

Walking in, you order quickly and take a seat by the window looking out to the road. There's an unusual amount of people in here, but Chan is nowhere to be seen. Part of you wants to ask the young cashier where he is, but she's too busy. Your order takes a while to arrive, giving you and Minho lots of time to stew in awkward silence. It shouldn't be so weird still, him being here, but you could barely look at him right now.

"Here you go." The waiter brings your plates and drinks, then faces you directly. "Um, the manager- er- Chan, wanted to let you know he might not be able to see you for a while."

"Oh," you're surprised by the sudden comment. "Did he say why?"

"Something about being 'not all there'? I didn't push," they rub their arm anxiously. "Anyway, enjoy your food. It's on the house!"

"Hey wait- aaaand they're gone."

"Smells delicious." Minho takes a forkful, waving it in front of his nose.

"You're just not gonna even acknowledge what that kid said?" He shrugs. "Unbelievable."

"Y/n I can barely wrap my head around anything that's happened in the past 24 hours, forgive me if I let the waiter's weird message for you slide." He takes another bite. "Besides, is it really that weird? Maybe he's just freaked out by you. Chan, not the kid."

You freeze. Maybe he's just freaked out by you.

"Babe, you're a fucking freak," his words ring in your ears. "Seriously. You should be happy I choose to stay with you, 'cause otherwise, you'd be all on your own. Really a pathetic way to live, huh?"

And you can't breathe, fingers turning white by how hard you're gripping the cushion of your seat. But Minho doesn't notice, continuing to eat like he didn't just remind you of everything wrong with you.

●

notes • it is 6am and now that this is done, i'm going back to sleep

taglist • @yongbbokkie @chaeryred @tenebrisirae @toplinelix @chansdoll @amaranth-writing @3rachachoo @linosjureumi @thebrownemo @tfshouldidohere @channie-143

TAGLIST CLOSED ^^^blue means i can't tag you

[primojade]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 | in which tighnari makes up for the few weeks of loneliness away from your side as he let you teach him how to ice skate during the winter holiday because 'tis is the season to remember.

𝐂𝐖 / 𝐓𝐖 | gn!reader x tighnari; fluff; a bit hurt then comfort; kissing; let me know if I missed anything!

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 | this is my exchange gift for @mako-yaki in the Secret Santa Event hosted by @2022gisecretsanta ! I was supposed to add Ayato and Kazuha (and Wanderer cause I thought of a good scenario for him oof) but I sadly have no time to write more for them so maybe I'll just do a part 2 soon if possible! Still, I hope you like this as much as I love writing them! Happy holidays to you, comrade <3

PS. I'm most certain that teyvat do not have christmas because of its origin but for the sake of this fic, I just renamed it as a winter holidays with unknown origin lol. And I'm not certain too if my dear secret santa celebrates christmas so to be safe, christmas is referred to as 'winter holiday' instead!

masterlist

You glide for a few meters after stepping onto the ice to reacquaint yourself with the sensation beneath your skates. You awkwardly spin around, stumbling a little when the blades hit an uneven chunk of ice, but you quickly get back on your feet before you completely lose balance. You smile to yourself, at least you remember how to do that.

It's been a while since you have been in an outdoor rink, knowing that you were staying in Sumeru and its rainforest for a few years now. But the sight of multiple pairs of lovers skating together hand in hand as if they own the world, little children waddling about unsteadily on the ice, parents flailing around as they frantically attempt to chase after their cheeky children who have yet to wear their mufflers...

It all brings a fond grin to your face, memories of childhood and holiday outings coming to mind.

You gaze up at the place surrounding the rink, the bright blue sky filled with clouds and the towering pine trees located at the other end of the rink, and you feel excitement begin to well up in your chest. An excited hum escapes your lips, and you’re about to skate off when it hits you that you’ve forgotten something—or rather, someone.

You turn around at the sound of your name, and you see Tighnari standing a distance behind you, though even standing seems to pose a huge challenge to him. He’s trembling while flailing his arms as he attempts to keep his balance, even though it’s clear that he’s just barely taken a step off the ground.

His gaze darted between the ice then to you, slight panic glazing in his eyes. Though some relief sets in when you skate over to him, he gives you an irritated glare and an embarrassed flush of his cheeks when he sees you stifling your laughter at his pathetic state. 

You hold out your hand to him once you’re close enough and immediately he clutches tightly to your arm like a lifeline.

"The audacity of you to leave me behind, you heartless dunce." He huffed angrily, leaning against you as he tried to release the tension in his muscles, clearly tired from the effort of standing on ice even for a short period of time. "I can’t believe you almost left me alone to rot here!"

The way that extreme embarrassment tends to turn the fennec hybrid into a petty drama queen is so amusing. Especially when he still seeks you out despite how irritated he is.

"But you were doing okay," you said, though both of you know that he was the exact opposite of being okay. "It's your first time so don't be so stressed about it," you continue when his disgruntled scowl deepens at your unconvincing tone. "At the very least, you didn’t cry, 'Nari, I’m so proud of you."

He groaned in irritation when you patted his ears teasingly, brushing off your hand almost immediately. "I did not fall, thank you very much. And I don’t cry over such petty things."

"Oh? I'm confident your eyes were misty when I skated over to support you earlier."

“I did no such thing,” he scowled, though his long ears started dropping in defence. “Skating is rather hard, okay? I believe you were forgetting I have lived in the rainforest all my life. This is my first time.”

“Don't worry, I got you.” You said with a reassuring smile, nudging his waist lightly with your elbow. The action made him stumble and cling tighter to your arm in response. The absolute shock that crossed on his usually stern face makes you giggle, and it takes you a while to calm yourself so that he’ll stop glaring at you. 

You pried his hand away from your sore arm, and instead, intertwining his fingers with yours. "Don’t worry, 'Nari. We’ll hold hands, so don't let go."

Tighnari's brows shot up in the hairline, not comforted in the least by your reassuring smile. “I swear to all Archons in Teyvat, [Name], I’ll make you regret this if you let me go or pull weird tricks to make me fa—”

"I won’t! What kind of lover do you take me for?” You pouted.

Before he can come up with a snarky reply, you start pulling him across the ice rink. You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep your laughter to yourself when you hear him release an undignified yelp before tightly latching both his hands onto yours.

Come to think of it, despite his ungodly snarks and overall clumsiness at skating, your favourite scholar really isn’t too bad for a first-timer. He merely fell once so far. 

That first time was because you let his hand go for staring too long at that person who was executing a beautiful spin and statingstating bluntly that you skated like a "circus snake" compared to them. So rude. 

Though it wasn't that unusual when Tighnari insists on taking a break.

“What are you looking at?” His lips were curled downward in displeasure while seated on the bench.

“Nothing~"

"Sometimes, I really hate you.”

“Hehe. Love you too, 'Nari.” You respond in a sickeningly sweet, but mischievous voice. You bark a laugh loudly when he makes a move to get away from you but slips on the icy surface of the ground and lands squarely on his bum instead. That's twice now, you thought with a snicker.

After attempting for several minutes to convince Tighnari that you would stop harassing him for another hour and then failing spectacularly, you are left with little alternative but to drag him there. Back on the ice rink, you make the decision that you should definitely try to make your grumpy partner smile once more.

When he asks suspiciously what you're "plotting" this time, you refuse to say anything and gingerly take his hand before skating slowly toward the center of the rink. His misgivings and distrust towards you make you want to pout, but they aren't entirely unfounded given how you almost made him lose his sanity and completely drove him insane in the past hour.

“What are you doing?” He questioned in confusion.

"Dancing with the music while on ice!" You answer with a grin. "Since you're still new to this skating thing, just thought we could use a change of pace. And so that you would stop glaring at me already."

His brows furrowed. “And you didn’t think that I could use something like this earlier instead?"

You shush him, pressing a finger to his lips. "Shush. Just enjoy the moment, 'Nari."

He grumbles something incoherent under his breath, probably more complaints but nonetheless, his grip on your waist tightens to pull you closer to him, and he allows you to pull him along in slow circles. The both of you sway in time to the mellow beat, and after a while you hear Tighnari humming along softly to the carol while the ghost of a smile plays on his lips. His shoulders begin to loosen as he eases into the dance, the creases on his forehead fading away the more he loses himself in your eyes and in the faintly playing music.

Wordlessly, you felt your heart swell with affection. Tighnari has been so busy these past few weeks, and you both barely saw each other, if not at all. It makes you feel a little lonely, but you understand that his job requires his full attention and that many people rely on him as their leader.

You understand that, yes, still…it doesn't mean that you have to like it.

Perhaps Tighnari felt guilty about leaving you behind for so long either, and he felt it was his fault that he wasn't by your side at your lowest time when you needed him the most, so when the news of a new skating rink reaches his ears in the nearby country of Fontaine, he latches on the chance to take you along, knowing how you loved such excursions but have no time nor place to enjoy doing so. 

And even though it was his first time ice skating, and he wasn't even that used to the cold climate, Tighnari still took the effort to bring you here and you were grateful for his thoughtfulness for that. Whether he regrets it now or not because of your mischievous 'plotting' that almost made him senile remains to be seen.

When he appears to be less wary of the ice, you slowly skate backwards to pull away from him so you can lift his arm over and do a twirl along with him. The childish action pulls a chuckle from his lips, which causes your own to curve upwards as well.

"I supposed this isn’t half bad anymore," he remarked lightly.

"Right? I told you you would love this.”

He clarifies his sentence. "Correction: I like it when you don’t push me or make me skate like a Rishboland Tiger on incense."

Chuckling, you start skating and pulling him along with you. "It was your fault that you fell twice."

"You pushed me the first time," he argued.

"That was your fault, too."

"It wasn't, you lummox. I was doing fine until you—hey, look out!”

Before you can even process what he is saying, your left leg smacks against something hard, throwing you off balance. As you recoil and drag Tighnari down with you, all you can see is his gaping mouth and frozen expression of dread.

Your bottom takes the majority of the impact as your body crashes to the hard ice, and something sharp and unpleasant is jabbing at your side. Tighnari slammed directly on top of you, his immense weight knocking the wind out of you. He tries to get off of you as quickly as possible, but accidentally slips and falls on you again, this time, crushing your ribs.

“Ugh. I'm so sorry,” he muttered hurriedly, moving to get up so his weight is on his forearms that are resting on either side of your face. "Are you okay!?"

"I'll live." You replied with a grimace. "What was that?"

"A snowboard," he replies, looking over his shoulder where a blue overturned snowboard is lying. "Who in the world left that lying in the middle of a skating rink? That's highly dangerous! I would love to get some words with—"

"Probably a child," you stopped his tirade before it escalated to something close to a full-blown lecture. "Oww…"

Tighnari carefully crawls away from you so he has sufficient space to get back on his feet and once he’s up, he holds out a hand to you. "I'll help you up,"

You clasped his hand and allowed him to pull you up. But about halfway through, he manages to tip over—possibly because you put too much weight on him—and falls backward, dragging you with him.

You both crash land in a jumbled heap of limbs for the second time today. Perhaps the pain has finally reached your mind, but when you shift so that your weight is off of him and gaze down at his dumbfounded face, you can't help but laugh out loud. You know the people around you are giving you strange looks, but you can't help it.

You manage, struggling to recover your breath between laughs, "Today has been such a mess."

Tighnari is just staring at you like you've finally lost it, but before long the corners of his chapped, dry lips are also curling upwards and soon enough, he's laughing along with you at the ridiculous situation the two of you are in.

He sighed, blowing out a puff of breath and lightly flicking your forehead good naturedly. "You better make up for this later to me, you big lummox."

"Heh. Of course. Anything else you want as compensation?" You asked, brushing the viridescent strand of his hair from concealing his lovely face. He deserves this after all the terrorising from you today.

As he mulls over the query, his features settle into a thoughtful expression, and his lips pursed. Very cute, the way he’s almost pouting with his lips pushed out like that. Looking at him from this angle, with his dark hair splayed out around his head like a halo, lying on the shimmering ice beneath the bright rays of the sun in winter, you can’t help but feel your chest swell with affection. The loneliness you felt over the weeks apart from each other slowly, but surely unveiling itself little by little until it becomes nothing but a bittersweet memory.

He takes so much time to decide, and you feel impatient. So, with a mischievous smile, you lean in, catching him completely off guard when you press your lips to his. You pull away quickly after leaving a gentle peck, but his hand is quick to press on your back to keep you from moving away too far.

“One more time.” His tone is serious, but his face is well on its way to matching the colour of Nilou's hair as his gaze remains on your face, attentive olive eyes tracing the lines of your features and lingering on the changing colour of your heated cheeks. “As...compensation, that is.” he added, by way of explanation.

You smile brightly, ignoring the sting of your cracking lips when they spread too wide, and you lean in, more than happy to comply and compensate, while you’re at it.

This sweet moment is more than anything you could take home as a holiday keepsake.

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be added in my future works!): @samarill , @maehemthemisfit , @chocogi , @rvoulte , @luvwukong ...

[fenny-self-ships]

Hiiiiiiiii

Idk if you’re comfortable with hurt/comfort, but if you are I got a request for you! Lol

Basically, the idea is headcanons (or writing) of Jafar with an S/O that suffered SEVERE narcissistic abuse, and him quickly dealing just how much damage behaviors like his can cause. Like, he has to calm them down from a ptsd flashback, and they end up saying something about the “mind games” they were always playing, and how they were always on eggshells, and he’s basically over here like “ohhhh fuk…I do that kind of thing to people…”

Ooh some hurt comfort?? Coming right up 👀

I'm by no means an expert on this topic, so I'll stick with headcannons for now, but if you like 'em I'm more than open to writing a full imagine in future!!

Cracks my knuckles

Jafar with an abused S/O~!

Given the way he speaks, I wouldn't be surprised if it was something he said that triggered the unfortunate episode

A nasty, condescending comment about a hobby of yours, a hissing remark correcting your behaviour, or even deliberately misconstruing something you've said -- Incredibly self-serving, of course, but he's a master manipulator, and can very easily play the victim in even the tiniest arguments

Nothing could prepare him, however, for the sudden fit of anxiety and terror his words would induce

He is WOEFULLY uneducated on such things, and would regrettably have absolutely zero clue how to approach the situation -- He'd more than likely just freeze, simply staring down at you as you crumble

Once he's snapped out of his stupor, his first instinct would be to remove himself from the situation

He's clearly upset you, and he'd rather die than debase himself by admitting to his own wrongs. What a PATHETIC move that would be, huh?? (/sar)

Perhaps not the greatest instinct, but he'd give you time to cool off, to return to yourself, before slinking back in to discuss what caused your 'hysteria' (🙄🙄)

Likely with some warm tea to show in the smallest sense that he does actually CARE about you. It's not much, but it might be enough to get you talking

He would have fully intended to make a half-assed attempt at listening, followed by an empty promise to 'do better' and some kisses to top it off, but, in true Jafar fashion, his interest is piqued when you start describing the shit that he is oh so good at

The insufferable superiority complex, the 'do-no-wrong' mentality, the near constant mind games, manipulation and victimisation -- every single experience you describe he resonates with far too much

He hasn't had much experience with guilt, but you're his beloved. He cares about you. The sickly feeling creeps, resting heavier and heavier on his shoulders the more you manage to tell him

Truly an 'ohhhh fuck... I do that shit' moment if there ever was one

It's become second nature to him, almost a survival tactic -- not any excuse for his behaviour, of course, but he rarely gives a second thought to how awful the effects can be

He hates that it was you who had to tell him. He's supposed to be your biggest supporter, not your worst enemy

His illusion of perfection is shattered -- You aren't lucky to be with him, HE'S lucky you've put up with his disposition for as long as you have. He feels terrible.

All at once, you're wrapped up in a hug. Physical touch isn't his forte, but when you're as bad at apologies as he is, sometimes you have to compromise

This may be the first time you've ever heard a genuine 'sorry' from him

He will make an effort. Not to better himself as a whole, hell no, but to be better for you. The last thing he'd want to do is hurt you the way you've been hurt before. That'd be the WORST thing for his overinflated ego.

He's trying <3

[yuukei-yikes]

What are your mekatrio + Ayano hcs esp post-str? I’m still bitter that we didn’t get to see their reunion in mca

FOR FUCKING REAL UGH mca giving us the Good ending but at the same time starving us horribly. like it only delivered on ayano and hiyori being alive 😭 but we dont even SEE hiyori we just pathetically point at her silhouette and then we see shinaya scene that seems to have gotten the whole budget in animation. there is something that irks me abt the shinaya scene in str being so damn pretty and then ayanos theory of happiness is. THAT. like when i remember ayanos theory of happiness in mca i lose my mind bc sometimes i cant believe that rly happened. kagepro is such a joke

WAIT THIS ISNT MCA BASHING ITS MEKATRIO TIME omg post str tateyama siblings♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ i think ayano feels insanely guilty for leaving them alone for so long and feels like a damn failure and well ayano's mental stability post str is something to be studied by scientists let's just say she's BARELY hanging in there. she's desperate to make up for lost time and so is the trio but the trio is more like hey WE are also there for u if u need it especially kido and seto to BOTH kano and ayano, like we dont want you guys to ever hide something like that from us again bc we are supposed to be a family and we're in this together ok??? especially now that their parents are gone gone. like kenjirou had been long gone since before properly dying but... it still hits different that he's REALLY gone for good.

but if anything this drives ayano to try to suck it up even more. she's not even relying on kano anymore because she sees how it's affected him that she did rely on him so much back then, and she's even MORE incredibly guilty over it. ayano would be helicoptering over all 3 and ESPECIALLY kano.

kido has been carrying the pressure of trying to be The Big Sister replacement after losing 2 big sisters of their own, seto is sort of projecting all his insecurities and pain onto helping mary and obsessing over how much worse she had it as if that somehow takes away his right to also be upset and kano is. (gestures at his whole thing) i think post str kano is the most messed up of them all and i mean ALL the dan, even more than ayano or shintaro LMAO

because while ayano and shintaro are sort of clumsily tripping and stuff in the way of healing they're still in that path while kano is actively spiraling down bc he's so used to being miserable and now he's gotten everything he's ever wanted and he feels so undeserving and guilty and lost and alone. and ayano is here BEGGING to be relied on and needed but kano KNOWS BETTER than to do that because he knows ayano is hurting too and in the same way she is sucking it up for his and their siblings' sake he is doing the same for her. its such a mess. i love emotional constipation.

kano is on his way to a very very VERY ugly meltdown like im talking about a sort of um maybe 💀 attempt. YKNOW WHAT I MEAN. erm... ayano too actually but i think she is most likely to seek help before it gets to that point especially since teehee she's. done that before. also ayano is sort of distracting herself with her relationship mess with shintaro bc that's ridiculous and its EASIER to be hurt about that than everything else. like somehow this silliness sort of saves her LOL not to sidetrack to shinaya but i think a big reason theyre so fucking messy is not only the obvious reasons but also they find comfort in that because that way they can be primarily worried about stupid shit like bwaaa u cuddle with ur asuna body pillow and not me instead of THE TIMELINES...WEVE DIED 1000 TIMES.... IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE IT HAPPENS AGAIN.... yknow what im saying!

i think she ends up breaking down to mekatrio and they all hold her while she cries the same way she held them while they cried when they reunited :(( i think when they reunite ayano is crying but Not sobbing while the mekatrio is like a fucking mess clinging to her and stuff. kind of like when shintaro goes get ayano like u dont have to fight alone anymore. ayano is like that to her siblings when they reunite she wants to be strong and let them cry like little kids again because they've been getting by alone for so long

i think breakdowns happen like. seto first, then kido second, then ayano, then kano (and kano's is UGLY like something very bad happens for this to take place)

also there is something so interesting to be explored in post str mary and ayano. ayaki is still the same person as ayano yknow, kinda... like everything ayaki does is something ayano in this route is capable of as well. and maybe in the worst part of her ayano resents mary even if she knows she shouldn't, and she's also troubled over seto obsessing over her so much instead of taking care of his own baggage. teehee.

surprisingly kido is the most put together of the 4 but theyre rather like a pressure bomb abt to go off LOL i think their breakdown begins through them getting REALLY REALLY MAD and exploding at everyone. it could start with something like kano putting the empty milk back in the fridge instead of throwing it away LMAO also kido's self steem is basically nonexistent and relies completely on trying to be this Cool Leader so a breakdown is absolutely forbidden. but it happens♥️ everyone needs therapy 👍👍👍

[happyandticklish]

Mental Loops

Notes: Commission for @fucking-michaell ^^ Lee Devi is so underrated and I 100% support the mission of her getting tickled out of her mind to calm the fuck down lol. Little bit angsty in the beginning, but like, light light angst. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Nalini’s words won’t get out of Devi’s head so Ben gives her something else to think about. 

“Hey. You in there?”

This was followed by a round of soft knocking that Devi was determined to ignore if it meant they would go away. She tugged the pillow in closer under her head, closing her eyes as though that would speed up the sleeping process.

“You know, your mom already told me you were in there so this is about to get pretty embarrassing for you the longer you pretend you’re not.”

There was concern behind the attempt at a joke, and it prickled up against Devi uncomfortably. She already had to deal with sympathy from everyone else, she didn’t need it from Ben of all people. Even if he was being really sweet to visit her like this, and even if every part of her craved his company in this moment. It would only make the whole situation worse. It was much better if Devi dealt with this on her own, like she did most things.

“Devi. Come on. It's me."

Okay. That was slightly harder to ignore.

Outside the door, Ben was greeted with a vague grunting noise that he took to mean come in as he pushed open the door carefully. Devi refused to look at him still, curling up tighter on her side of the bed.

Ben took a seat on the edge of the bed in typical awkward fashion, attempting to touch as little of it as possible which left him in a crouched over position that couldn’t have been even remotely comfortable. A smile tugged at her lips at the thought of him rearranging himself over and over, and she tried to shove it back down before it could do anything crazy like cheer her up.

“So.” Ben folded his hands in his laps, unfolded them once more, and finally clasped his knees. “I take it you’re upset about something, considering it took me ten minutes of negotiating with your mother to even get to be up here.”

“Well observed,” Devi said dryly, hating how petty her words sounded. She toyed with the edges of the pillow, trying to sound more casual as she continued. “Okay. Yes, I mean. Although I wouldn’t call it upset, I would refer to it more as a resigned state of being.”

““A resigned state of being,’” Ben repeated slowly, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t get it, resigned about what?”

“About this! All of this!” She sat up suddenly, whirling around to face him and he had to stumble back a bit on the bed so as not to be knocked off. “About us, really, and how neither one of us is a doctor or lawyer or going into some really intensive line of research that my relatives can brag about at the dinner table.

Righting himself on the bed, Ben gave her a look. “Is this about Kamala? Because I thought you guys resolved a lot of that stuff? Or, not resolved, but accepted that she isn’t perfect either? If I’m being honest, the details of that whole exchange were never fully laid out for me.”

“No,” Devi spit out, scooching closer to him despite herself. It was easier to be irrationally mad at Ben when he wasn’t there with his lips rounded in that cute O of concern of his and his eyes drooping into some sad lost puppy look. She had used to think that look was pathetic. Now, she was finding it difficult to control herself around it. “Strangely enough, my mother’s attention is not entirely on Kamala, for once in her life. It’s one of my cousins—a different cousin. She just got married to some guy whose profession is apparently so impressive that my mom felt the need to rant on and on about it all night. It was insufferable. And then she made some comment about how maybe one day I would get there and…”

She trailed off, the train of thought fizzling out once she tried to verbalize it. There were too many things and they were too scattered to try to explain any of them without sounding hurtful or crazy.

Unfortunately, Ben was good at putting together the pieces. “So, what you’re saying is… I’m not… good enough?”

“No!” Devi grabbed his shoulder perhaps tighter than necessary. “Of course not Ben, I think you’re great. I…. well. You know how I feel about you. I just wish that that was enough for her.”

“Ah. So, this is about your mother then.”

Devi huffed, offering a wry grin. “Isn’t it always? I’m… look. I’m sorry about the date. Nothing even happened and I flipped out and I entirely forgot you were coming over and when you did come over I got nervous and… I’m really, really sorry.”

“Hey.” Ben bumped her leg with a light smile. “You don’t have to apologize for that stuff. I already knew you got like that before I started dating you, it would be crazy of me to start judging you for it now.”

“That is kind of my brand," Devi agreed. "‘Crazy Ben’ doesn’t sound nearly as catchy.” She mostly said it to ease the tension of the room, and mostly succeeded in the form of a soft chuckle from Ben. 

They sat there in silence for a moment before Ben hesitated, shrugging out from under her shoulder before asking, “I don’t suppose you want to… I don’t know. Talk about it? I know I may not seem it from all of our interactions, but I’m pretty good at shutting up and listening when I need to.”

“Ha,” Devi replied, a single syllable that said everything she couldn’t about how much she appreciated the offer. “Nah, I think I just need to get my brain off of it. Distract myself. Maybe actually go on that date I promised you so that I don’t make a total asshole of myself out of tonight.”

Ben smiled and seemed about to reply with some witty remark of his own before he paused, his eyes lighting up in inspiration. “Well, if distraction is what you’re looking for, I think I might have the perfect solution.”

Devi narrowed her eyes, stiffening a little besides him; there was something about his tone that put her on guard. “Ben Gross, I should warn you that my mother could still get her way if you try anything.”

“Just… trust me.” He shifted on the bed so that he was facing her back, gesturing for her to climb into his arms. She rolled her eyes but complied, settling into his arms which he wrapped around her a little too quickly. “If the distraction method is just a hug, that was a pretty lame build-uhuhp—mmehe!”

Okay, embarrassing giggle in the middle of a romantic moment initiated by her boyfriend—definitely not ideal. Nor was the jump she did as his fingers readjusted on her sides, still digging into her shirt in a way that was making her skin crawl. “What are you doing?”

“In psychology we were discussing how tickling can often be a source of necessary endorphins that can further promote bonding between two creatures,” Ben explained simply, his twitching hands leaving her incapable of making fun of the nerdy monologue. “We also learned how it can serve as a form of cathartic release—something to relieve the tensions of the mind. I figure your mind could use some relieving.”

Devi scoffed in an effort to cover up her nervousness. Though it certainly hadn’t happened in a while, she had distinct memories of her friends ganging up on her in a mess of limbs and fingers, a situation she had always quickly become the loser in. She could only hope that sensitivity had faded over time.

“I’m afraid your efforts will be i-in vain,” Devi insisted, hoping he hadn’t noticed the slight stutter as fingers nestled into her hips. She felt jumpy, like she had energy running through her veins; it wasn’t entirely a bad feeling. “As it so happens, I am not ticklish.”

“No?”

“Hmmmehe n-nope.” Her leg bounced anxiously as nails curled over that spot, her nerves sparking with sensation. She forced her thoughts towards anything else, the fight with her mom, the annoying smugness in Ben’s voice just then, the homework she hadn’t started sitting on her desk, anything but how much that single motion tickled. “T-Totally fihine, just, ah, stretching my leg that’s all.”

“So this—” he squeezed his hands into the bone suddenly and Devi refused to be held responsible for the shriek that slipped out as a response— “doesn’t tickle at all?”

“Behehen!” She thwacked his leg lightly, hating the grin on her face, hating the stupid giggles slipping out as he kept squeezing. “Thihis ihis stuhuhuhupid!”

“Hey, I’m not doing anything, it’s not my fault you’re so ticklish.” Ben smirked, leaning in to kiss her on the back of the neck—a move that would normally be pleasant but was far too soft and vulnerable in that moment. “How about this, if you stop being ticklish, I’ll stop tickling you. That seems like a fair trade, right?”

Devi wanted to insist that he was an asshole and that this was anything but fair, but speech had to be momentarily cut short as his hands crawled forward onto her stomach and suddenly her squirming became a lot more frantic. A desperate chorus of it doesn’t tickle ran through Devi’s mind as she tried to somehow trick her nervous system, but Ben was too good at this. Her night shirt made his fingers glide easily over her stomach, dragging the fabric over her skin as he did so. Her face scrunched into a reluctant smile, her ears hot with embarrassment.

Ben was right.

It tickled far too much to even try to focus on being upset.

“Ohohokay, ohokay, mohohove ahalready!”

“Move? If you insist.”

Devi fell back in a fit of cackles as he slipped his hands under her shirt then, scratching gently over bare skin. Devi's hands were wrapped around herself in a useless hug that did nothing to dissuade the unfairly light tickles assaulting her just then.

And maybe, in some weird, out of her control way that she would never admit to him later, it did help. Her mind couldn’t focus under these conditions, her thoughts melting into a pleasant fuzz that was making it really hard to hold onto any kind of negativity. She felt bubbly and light and like she needed him to stop or her mother was going to call someone about the murder occurring in their upstairs bedroom.

For one of the first times in her life, she felt fully present in the moment.

They stayed like that for several minutes afterwards, Ben covering her mouth every once in a while so Nalini didn’t interrupt them when nails curling under her arms prompted a squeal of laughter. Later on, Devi would be forced to reconcile with the unpleasant thoughts from earlier that night, but for now she allowed herself to give in to the addicting sensations and get lost in his touch and her laughter.

She figured she could put off being upset for at least one night.

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Day 1: Explosion

Undeserved

Warnings: (Hand) Gore, guns, attempted murder, blood, language

This is the start of a 31 part series, which is pretty much the prologue to another story — the one where he’s rescued, lol. Which is on *checks* rank 257 of my todo list!

This one’s human, y’all! :D

Masterlist | Next

It was a figure in the crowd, a missed sign, a tiny movement of his finger that changed Damien’s life forever.

One moment he was crouching behind a rock, aiming the pistol, pulling the trigger. The next moment he was lying on the ground, curled up, cradling his right hand. The pain wasn’t even the first thing to register in his mind; it was the smell of gunpowder and blood and burned flesh. It made him gag, only worsened by the sudden feeling of heat and cold, rushing over him. Something was wrong, so very wrong. Where his left hand held his right, pressing it against his chest, he could feel sticky blood and loose flesh. He couldn’t bring himself to look at it, to see how bad the damage was.

His ears were ringing from the explosion. What little noise made it past sounded strangely muffled, dampened by the rushing of blood in his head. The sounds of boots on the hard packed earth, shouted commands, weapons being drawn. There were voices, but he couldn’t make out a single word. They came closer. There was no way Damien could hide from them, fight them. He couldn’t even stop himself from shaking as the realization set in that he had fucked this up. He had fucked this up so majorly, there was no way he’d get out of this alive.

He didn’t even know what had gone wrong. His plan had been perfect; kill this bloody son of a mok ambassador who used his influence to take from the poorest, all in the name of diplomacy. His disguise had been perfect; an illusion cast with chaos magic, making him look like one of the ambassador’s men he had hidden amongst. His aim had been perfect; he wasn’t a great shot, but he had been so close, he would have taken his target out for sure.

But something had gone wrong. Terribly, utterly wrong. The fucking pistol had exploded, all but taking him out instead. He didn’t know how that was possible. He distantly wondered if there was anything left of it to find out. Fuck, he wondered if there was anything left of his hand. The only thing telling him that it was even still there was the touch of his left hand. His right was only pain, searing into his arm, pulsing with every frantic heartbeat. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. He couldn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes, or the pained whimpers from escaping his lips. All he could do was curl around his injured hand, frozen in agony. How fitting that they’d find him like this, crying in the dirt like the pathetic loser he had always been.

Then someone grabbed his shoulder, pushing him to the ground, face first. Damien struggled against it, inhaling dusty earth as he tried to scream. His injured hand was buried under him now, pinned between the leather of his armor and the rocks that littered the ground. Something hit his back, increasing in pressure until he thought his ribs would break. A knee perhaps, pinning him down, making sure he didn’t move. As if he even could.

“Check if there’s more of them.”

They wouldn’t find anyone. Damien had come alone. At least he had only fucked up his own life, not that of his friends. Or the closest thing he’d had to friends in a long, long time at least. It was a comforting thought; one that didn’t last long. Someone grabbed his left arm, pulling it out from under him. The feeling of the torn flesh of his right hand, slipping through his fingers, made him gag again. He tried to fight the nausea, focusing on his short, desperate gasps, each one filling his mouth with more dust. It clung to his tongue, to his throat, choking him. It left him no breath, no strength to fight as his left hand was bent back to rest against his back. The knee lifted, the pressure vanishing for one, precious moment, before it came down again, now pinning down his hand as well.

Then fingers closed around his right arm.

“No, no. Gods, no.”

They didn’t care about his pleas, or his desperate attempt to turn, to get off the ground. As his left arm was dragged out from under him, torn flesh was ripped apart. He tried to shake off the knee, still pinning him down, to wriggle out from under it. It was hopeless. As his feet scraped over loose rocks, trying to find anything to hold onto, someone slammed his head on the ground, making him dizzy. It was his own screams keeping the unconsciousness at bay, and the horrible feeling of bones being dragged over stone. 

There was blood on his tongue, and salt, and dust. It hurt on his cracked lips and in his raw throat as his screams died down to desperate sobs. Then his hand was out from under him, was being pulled toward his back. Blood ran down his arm, drying in the dust that covered his skin. He didn’t even realize he was speaking, begging for them to stop, to stop, until one of them slapped his head.

“Shut up, will ya.”

Through the haze of pain he felt how a rope was wrapped around his wrists, so tightly it pulled his shoulders back. Then someone grabbed his arms, dragging him to his knees, and his world turned black.

Tagging: @villainsvictim​ @whump-in-the-moonlight​

[youryanderedaddy]

♡100 followers special♡

Guys, I would like to thank all of you for all the support since I started this blog, you are the best <3 Btw this is the fic Elon Musk doesn’t want you to see lol, jk jk 

Title: Humanity

Words: 3.6k 

Summary: When you get sold to an odd looking robot after the last failure of a rebellion, things go better than you had expected. Until they don’t. 

tw: robot/AI apocalypse au, dystopia au, slavery, slight non - sexual public nudity, discrimination, vulgar language, mention of death and child abuse (in the past), obsessive behavior, non - consensual touching, angst 

              AD 3061y., 14 September

 Your hometown was in ruins, shattered by the Forces and left without any source of food, clean water or reliable manpower. The rebellion had failed just like the first ten attempts and as much as you had wanted to believe this time would be different, your dreams stayed nothing more than a way to cope with the harsh reality. Any intelligent individual had either managed to flee before the prosecution or died in agony while trying. You could still hear their pained screams ringing in your ear, the desperate look in their pupils sealed forever in your mind along with the sound of heavy breathing slowly fading into the background like your own hopes for a better future.

 The ones who decided to play meek and close their eyes to the inhuman torture happening in the area were spared, but what awaited them could potentially be worse than death itself. You were part of the flock of pitiful weak humans who had surrendered to the heartless machines wanting nothing more than to see mankind squirm and kneel underneath their mechanic heel like a bug. And now you would face the hour of judgment – tired and exhausted, heavy rusty chains around your bruised ankles making every next step a little harder than the last one. But you were certain that the most painful humiliating event hadn’t taken place yet and the thought made your blood run cold. You could recall the countless stories you used to hear on the streets from your friends about androids stealing kids and selling them like cattle to the most powerful leaders of society. Back then you would laugh at them, finding the ideas ridiculous, better fit for a conspiracy theory or a legend rather than an actual threat. But during that time life was easier – the robots were still your friends, just your average citizens, equal to the humans in every manner. It wasn’t until ten years later that some of them realized just how much better, stronger and smarter than the people they really were. That’s how the apocalypse started and that’s how it was going to end. These days the mortals were becoming extinct with the population cut down to one million. You didn’t have names or rights to any possession. Your mere survival had one purpose only – to entertain the machines so they could feel human again. And right now you were being dragged to Soraq, also known as the biggest slave market in the country.

----

 It was just as terrifying as you had imagined it to be. The Capital was supposed to express wealth, luxury and maybe even happiness but your old human views were easily opposed when faced with the mud  covering what was left of the pavement and the pale exhausted bodies of the mortals wandering the streets searching for a hot meal and a little bit of kindness it was clear no one wanted to provide. You reached out to help a young girl sobbing all by herself on the ground but the Officer roughly yanked your shoulder back and ordered you to keep going – his cold hard touch was enough to bruise your skin.

 After a few long minutes of uncertainty your keeper finally stopped, pulling you up some black stairs leading to a small stage and if you weren’t too busy looking around for the others who were captured, you might have noticed the crowd gathered inches away from you. Soon enough you were forced to redirect your attention as you heard the approving screams and cheering below. There were hundreds of robots staring at you, smirking maliciously, pinning you with their cold calculating gazes. You finally realized that this wasn’t just a bad dream or a nightmare, something unreal you could easily run away from by opening your eyes. You were about to become property and the worst part was the way the cruel machines perfectly resembled people – they looked the same except for the dark red pupils each possessed which glowed when going into a fight mode. But unlike humans the androids had gotten rid of their most intimate emotions and fears, turning themselves into empty shells, shiny and murderous with no way to experience anything properly, be it pleasure or pain.

 “Ladies and gentlemen!” The Officers started off with a low chuckle, his heavy hand wrapped tightly around your arm. His voice should have been programmed to be monotone but now it had a playful edge to it. “Today our dear subjects have decided to be feisty yet again. They still haven’t learned their lesson it seems.” He grinned eerily, quickly followed by the mocking laugher of the crowd. Some even shouted slurs and insults but you tried to focus on controlling your feelings. You needed to stay calm if you wanted to survive. “We really can’t expect more from the mankind. They are primal after all, they just can’t learn from their mistakes.” The male robot paused for a second to fix his microphone. “It’s in their DNA code to be foolish and pathetic. That’s why we need to take better care of them.” He whispered the last line down your neck and despite knowing that the machines didn’t have actual lungs, you could swear you felt his cold breath on your sensitive skin.

 “The woman is in her early twenties. Her background is unknown, but she certainly looks like someone you would want in your collection.” The android continued talking as if you weren’t there, his hands all over your tinier frame. The mass was yelling, but you only made out the words „down”, „strip” and „human”. Your eyes watered involuntarily and you let the tears stream down your cheeks in spite of the weakness they showed. It didn’t matter – it couldn’t get any worse so you could at least let yourself experience such little bits of comfort. In the next moment the Officer ripped your old ragged t-shirt, exposing your breasts to the cold autumn air. The hot red humiliation washed over you as the degrading whistles pierced trough your heart. It was such a cruel unfair punishment and you couldn’t even keep your composure long enough to not break down ugly – crying right there.

 “The bidding starts at one thousand eros!” The robot’s evil voice echoed through the area, reaching the market borders. Suddenly all the attention was on your scared vulnerable half-naked self. More than ten androids raised their hands, making your stomach turn in terror. Most of them had unpleasant appearances, resembling old people, usually men. “Do we have two thousand eros?” The officer added quickly afterwards having seen the shown interest. This time there were only five bots willing to buy you for so much money – but the show was far from over. “Am I seeing three thousand eros?” Your keeper kept going, determined to drain your bidders off their wealth, but to his utmost surprise now there were only two robots with their hands in the air – one seemingly younger and the other looking all wrinkled and bitter at the world. You silently prayed that fate would work in your favor only this time and hand you over to the man who would treat you more like a living being and less like an object.

 “Ten thousand eros.” Suddenly the android with a kinder appearance declared out loud, his cold stern gaze fixed onto you. The other male hesitated for a moment, probably wondering whether or not you were worth so much money, but at the end he cursed under his breath and slowly put his hand down with a sour expression. “Sold to K-010 for ten thousand eros!” The automatic voice of the Officer was ringing in your ear like an alarm while the crowd was shouting and cussing, some going as far as to criticize your new owner for giving up his monthly salary for a “cheap human whore”. Next he was invited on the stage to sign off all the needed documents leading to your freedom being ripped away forever and you were injected with a tiny chip which would make your location visible to your buyer at any given time. The android looked at you soon after and in one swift move he managed to place his leather coat on your shoulders, muttering at you to cover up. You obeyed, embarrassed by the reminder that your upper half was still fully exposed to all the hungry prying immortals. When the chains were finally removed, the robot took you by the hand and led you to a small white flying car with a yellow lily drawn on top – the brand was popular among the most powerful members of the Forces.

 “Don’t even think about running away.” K-010 growled when he noticed the way your attention drifted to the nearby road before finally taking your seat. You knew it was pointless now that the tracking device was deep into your skin but deep down you still couldn’t kill the last bit of hope screaming at you to do something before you were too far away to find home again, wherever it was. “If you so much as look outside while we drive, I will use my lasers to turn you into ash. Okay?” You nodded meekly and sank into the soft comfortable seat, wishing that your body would stop shaking in fear but to no avail.

---

 The journey was long and silent but it made you remember the days when music was still allowed and you used to turn the radio all the way up in your mother’s car. You would sing loudly until your throat hurt and your friends would ask you to just shut up and focus on the road. Everything was so normal and happy back then. The stinging nostalgia threatened to overcome so you tried to focus on something else. You finally faced your owner in an attempt to study his appearance. He was probably in his late twenties, his hair white with some black locks here and there, a fashion trend you usually didn’t care much for. You couldn’t afford to bother with your hairstyle when you were constantly running for your life after all. The robotic male had sun-kissed brown skin, he was taller than most human men and his lips seemed softer than most robots’. But the biggest mystery laid in his deep dark eyes, they looked scarlet at first but the more you stared, the easier it was to realize the color was actually brown.

 “Are you a cyborg, K-010?” You asked in a small voice out of the blue, breaking the peace and quiet in the air. The android didn’t spare you much attention with his gaze fixed onto the open sky serving as a road, still he opened his mouth slightly to respond. “My name is Kyle, the numbers are just a formality.” He inhaled sharply as if he was reminiscing a bad memory. “And yes, I am biologically human – just with a few practical upgrades.” You had heard of such people before, the ones willing to become an experiment so they could join the high society oppressing their own neighbors, friends and relatives, setting the lands on fire and destroying the dying environment but you had never met one until today. Honestly, you felt betrayed. It was one thing to be some unfeeling machine’s plaything and entirely another to be owned by someone with a functioning heart even though they weren’t too keen on using it properly.

 “Why would you do that?” You couldn’t stop the question from leaving your lips in the next moment. “You should know what humans have to go through just to stay alive. Today hundreds of us were crushed and sold like some animals! Yet you changed yourself to appeal to their disgusting standards.” You raised your voice, the hot tears already spilling down your cheeks yet again, your fists clenched in pure anger at the foolish greedy man. He simply shook his head and leaned back. “I had my reasons, sweetheart. You don’t know anything.” With that the conversation had ended, you could try and argue or even blame him for being a selfish bastard but it wouldn’t have done you any good so you decided against it. It didn’t matter much anymore.

----

 A few months went by slowly even though time meant little to someone in your position. Living with Kyle wasn’t as terrible as you thought it would be – his mansion was big and spacious, luxurious even. You had your own room and you were allowed to explore the house in your free time. You didn’t have many duties to attend to, your work mostly revolved around cooking, cleaning and keeping company with your owner when he was too tired to keep the robotic mask on and just wanted something sweet, something weak, something more human around. He didn’t want much out of you so you tried to do your best and stay on his good side – there was always a warm meal waiting at the table at night, every window was carefully wiped from the previous dust and the glass was now shining brightly, and you would listen for hours on end to the cyborg’s ramblings no matter how dreadful it could be sometimes.

 But it couldn’t be denied that the man had some odd habits, even if you were to overlook him buying a living being instead of simply hiring a maid. For example, you knew how thin the walls actually were because you could hear him cry almost every night. The half-robot would hold you close any time the news were too loud or a bottle of beer had fallen and shattered on the ground. Still you weren’t allowed to leave his home so all the doors leading to the outside world were locked while he was away or at work. And there were these weird long cuts on his shoulders you had managed to take notice of the first time your master had asked you to bathe him. You hadn’t meant to prey upon his naked form, but the task had been so awkward you needed something to focus on to drive the unpleasant thoughts away. The injuries looked deep and the man would close his eyes any time the soap made contact with them. Finally one day you gathered the courage to ask him what had caused the raw scratches. You were messaging his scalp gently, applying jasmine in his roots, trying to soothe his nerves and get to the information.

 “ ’S not important. ” K-010 answered lazily while arching his back into your touch. More often than not the male would melt under your care and you couldn’t help but wonder just how lonely it was to be neither a human nor a machine. “She is dead now.” He whispered darkly, secretly hoping it wouldn’t reach your ear, yet it did. “Who is dead?” You questioned him after a while, stroking his wet locks until you heard him moan. You were getting better and better at provoking a reaction from the cyborg and despite knowing it was manipulative and a little devious, he was still the ruthless owner who held your one and only life in his palms. You needed to be sneaky if you wanted a safe, comfortable life.

 “My mother.” Kyle added quickly before looking at the blue ceiling, the glossy material copying both of your reflections. The mention of the woman made the sensitive skin of his nape crawl but he kept talking. “The crazy bitch used to beat me every. She even tried to kill me a couple of times.” A slight smile appeared on his full red lips. “It didn’t work out in the end, unfortunately.” So that’s where the cuts were from – he had been violated in his childhood by no other than the person supposed to look after him. You had always hated abusive parents taking advantage of their authority and even now your own imagination made your heart ache at the picture it painted. A small boy being hit over and over until there his whole body was bruised and bloodied. A child with no one to turn to. It didn’t excuse your master’s evil doing but it certainly explained a lot. “Don’t make such a sad face, darling.” He cooed at you, reaching out to pinch your cheek. “I will always be grateful to the Forces since they gave me the power I needed to finally free myself from her grasp. I even buried her myself after everything was said and done.” Kyle grinned from side to side like a little kid waiting to be praised for the picture they had drawn, except now the man was speaking of the way he had murdered his mother. You were at a total loss of words, suddenly too frightened to respond.

 “What’s so special about being a human anyways?” The cyborg grumbled, sounding almost offended of the words you still haven’t said but were definitely thinking deep down. You were staring forward unable to draw away from that one crack in the wall, his words flying above your head. Your confusion was interrupted by the man quickly raising to his knees and catching both of your hands with his strong robotized ones. The cold touch of the metal combined with the camouflage of a soft skin was enough to mess your mind even further into the maze that was his dark gaze. Next thing you knew the male had you pinned on the hard ground, spotlessly clean and reeking of abstergent. You tried to squirm away but the hold of your wrists was too tight and strong to even make your struggling worth the trouble. “Just look at how weak you humans are.” K-010 taunted you, smirking teasingly, cruelly, yet there was something desperate in his eyes, something hidden. “You are so fragile I could probably break you if I were to press harder on your flesh.” He whispered into your ear, breathing down your neck as he dug his icy fingers into your collarbone and made you whimper pathetically at the dull pain. “People are foolish creatures, illogical by nature. They try to fight authority yet the moment they are left with a free choice, they find a way to run from their responsibilities.” The cyborg chuckled maliciously while digging his nails further into your skin.

 “We might be doomed forever because of our emotions but there is something you fail to consider.” You finally spoke out despite your rapid heartbeat and fear so great it could defeat death herself. The predator already had you in his sharp claws and there was no pointing in playing coy anymore. The worst had come to worst. Your words caught the attention of the half-robot and he licked his lips in anticipation to hear what you had to say. “Unlike the androids we can still experience love. And at the end a life without love is a life wasted in the big picture. We might be mortal but you are the ones waiting to die instead of living.” You spat at the man fiercely, ready to face any punishment he would bestow upon your weak tired body for the sheer honesty. Instead he started laughed maniacally, the sound so loud it hit the ceiling and echoed through the house like a pained scream and so violent his shoulders shook to the sides. For the first time his eyes were glowing in a bright red color so saturated and vivid you couldn’t stand to look at them.

 “This is really funny, my little human.” Kyle pronounced carefully, having calmed down. He lowered his head so that his lips were ghosting over yours, just brushing against them. “I belong with neither humans nor robots so why does my chest ache every time I look at you? Tell me, darling, am I in love?” His voice was harsh, husky – as if he was purposely trying to sound evil but the tears in his eyes pointed at another feeling. A raw painful feeling.

 You couldn’t reply not only because you had no idea what to say after the confession but also because you couldn’t breathe properly with his pretty, wicked face so close to yours. Your silence only managed to stir the cyborg up further into his madness and he kissed you roughly, hungrily lapping and biting at your lips until they were sore and bruised, the robotic man more than happy to lick the small drops of blood off. For a moment you considered kicking or shouting for help but there wasn’t anyone willing to in the radius of kilometers. No one of significance cared much about the few remaining mortals. “I could never love you.” You uttered weakly, half – heartedly pushing the man away. You were all alone in this and there wasn’t really a point in fighting someone so much bigger and stronger, yet a sad little part of you hoped that Kyle would leave you alone if you made it clear enough just how much his actions were hurting you.

  “It’s fine if you don’t love me by choice.” Your master replied calmly in a cold piercing voice. His hands were wandering through your form stopping at your hips to draw them into his. The pretty dress you used to like so much was now crumpled and reeking of him, torn apart from your shivering body and thrown away. You wished you could cry but all the adrenaline had left you too uneasy to process the pain and fear. Kyle whispered in your ear while stroking your hair gently and it made you feel like a trembling sheep before a starved butcher. “I own you, little human.” He placed a small kiss on your hot sensitive neck. “And I have enough love for both of us.”

[jinkicake]

~ ♡ Good Enough ♡ ~

(( Day #4 )) Lucifer x Reader

He hates you. He hates you. You’re sure that he must hate you.

A/N: This is my attempt at an actual fic like a long ass story... ummm,,,, I wrote this a while ago because I just love love love luci and mean m3n so I decided to combine the two!!!! xxx this isn’t the longest thing i’ve ever written but it’s the longest thing i’ve written in a while... hopefully it is alright~~

WC - 5,021

mean, stubborn Lucifer (pretty much luci before like lesson 20?? lmaooo)

~~~

For as long as you’ve lived in the Devildom, Lucifer has been hard on you. 

You’re not sure why the demon pushes you to your limits but, try as you might, you just can’t make Lucifer come to like you. No matter how early you wake up to be on time for breakfast or how intensely you study for your classes, the demon only says that you can ‘do better’. He always finds a flaw in every single piece of yourself that you present to him and that fact only makes you want to try harder with him. 

No matter how difficult it may be, you still want to get along with him (even if he has other plans).

“(Y/N), you’re on cleaning duty tonight.” 

Lucifer’s sudden announcement in the middle of dinner nearly makes you drop your utensils in shock. He has to be kidding with this. Last night was your turn to clean the kitchen and you didn’t leave a single spec of dust on any appliance. Not to mention, Mammon is the one who cooked tonight and you really do not want to be in charge of cleaning that up. 

“(Y/N) cleaned last night, Lucifer,” Asmo reminds his older brother before he sends a gentle smile your way. He tips his shoulder towards you thoughtfully but then instantly stiffens under his brother’s glare. 

“And?” The avatar of pride crosses his arms over his chest and waits for anyone else to refuse him. No one ever does. Asmo sends an apologetic wince your way before turning back to his food. When none of the other demons stick up for you, you know that you have to do something about it yourself. 

“Why do I have to clean up?” At the sound of your soft voice, Lucifer’s eyes slightly widen. This goes against every moral you have that relates to coexisting with Lucifer, the main rule is to never question his authority. As of lately, you’ve grown tired of the way he picks on you. It’s nothing extreme compared to how he punishes his brothers but, you don’t understand why he tugs on your hair and hands you time-consuming tasks.

All of the other demons slowly look toward you before glancing at Lucifer. The eldest demon places his utensils down gently against his plate as his red eyes narrow your way. 

You don’t have the strength to look him in the eyes so you keep your gaze locked on your half-empty glass. 

“Are you questioning me, human?” His now emotionless expression doesn’t falter once, not even as you fist your hands in the napkin settled on your lap. Everyone in the room knows exactly what you did and the tension becomes so thick that you wish the ground would just swallow you whole.

Right now, you know that you have a choice to make. You can either fight with Lucifer or comply with him. It would be so much easier on everyone if you complied but, it wouldn’t be easier on yourself. 

“I just don’t understand why I have to do it when you already had me organize the library today.” You try to keep your composure, try to keep your heartbeat leveled as you finally muster up the courage to look at Lucifer. 

His jaw clicks with frustration when you look into his eyes. He can see the uncertainty and fear swimming in your iris and the demon hates how it looks on you. 

“You’re not going to be cleaning it alone, I am also on cleaning duty tonight.” Lucifer’s answer doesn’t satisfy you at all but, you take the small inch as a win. For once instead of reprimanding you, Lucifer gave you something to take. 

You truly don’t understand him. You fear that you never will. 

The kitchen is filled with just as much tension as the dining room and you think that you’ll never have the luxury of breathing freely again. Lucifer remains quiet as he hands you clean dishes, ones that he expects you to dry to perfection and then place neatly on the drying wrack. 

Every time that you misplace a single dish, he is quick to correct you. 

“Place it beside the other bowl,”

“Organize the utensils by category.”

At one point, he reaches over and holds your hand to guide exactly where he wants each dish to go. His entire body is pressed up against your own as he leans over to hurry the task along. You hate how your heart skips a beat at the proximity, how you happily soak in the difficult presence of Lucifer. 

When you finally put the last spoon in its drying space, you wipe your hands on one of the kitchen towels. The realization that you can leave puts a smile on your face and you reach over to grab your phone so that you can go back to your room and hide. 

It seems that Lucifer has other plans as he boxes you in against the counter with both hands on either side of your body. He bends his tall frame over slightly, dipping his head so that he can look at you closer. 

“Do you think we are done here?” It’s obvious to you that this is a trick question. Regardless if you say yes or no, the demon is going to give you another task. You battle his question with one of your own. 

“We have classes tomorrow, shouldn’t we call it a night?” You try to keep yourself as polite as possible and even go as far as to give the demon a wobbly smile. Lucifer’s frown doesn’t falter in the slightest as he pushes himself off the counter to stand to his full height. He runs his fingers through his hair, and for a split second, you have slight hope that he is going to let you leave. 

But, then he glances down at you. 

“We’re mopping the floors right now.”

In addition to mopping the floors, the two of you also deep-cleaned the fridge and washed all the kitchen towels. Needless to say that by midnight when you both finish, you are exhausted. 

“I expect to see you at six am before breakfast to go over those reports from this afternoon.” Lucifer’s clipped tone as he leaves the kitchen almost makes you cry. You can feel frustration aching in your chest but when the demon turns around to get your confirmation, all you can do is blink the tears away and nod. 

No matter how many times you go over it in your head, no matter how many hours you spend thinking about it, you just can’t understand what you did to make Lucifer dislike you. His endless tasks feel like a punishment no matter how many times he tells you that they are not. 

You also can’t figure out why you go along with the demon’s gentle torment of you. You can’t figure out why you want him to like you so badly, why you want to make him happy. 

For the same reasons that you can’t figure out Lucifer’s intentions, you can’t figure out the same feelings in your own heart. 

Ignorance is bliss and you plan to continue keeping up with the demon until you physically can’t anymore. 

There is something inside your chest that is pushing you, it’s a feeling that motivates you to shoulder Lucifer’s harsh demands. What a coincidence it is that you can’t figure out that emotion either, love. 

You think it’s the exact reason why you find yourself outside of Lucifer’s office the next morning. Perhaps it’s because you just hate to let him down. 

“Come in,” Lucifer murmurs as you softly open his door. His eyes run over your figure as you enter and gently close his door behind you, the dark circles under your eyes physically pain him. He’ll give you a break after this but, for right now, he just needs more time with you. The demon just can’t get you off his mind and whenever you’re near, unfortunately, he feels a little more at ease. Lucifer knows you can put up with it for a little while longer. “sit.”

You sit wordlessly in the chair on the opposite side of his desk, mirroring Lucifer’s position. After that, you wait. Lucifer doesn’t hand you any documents right away, he continues to read over and hastily marks any section that needs it. All you do is sit there. 

The soft lull of his record player, a gentle piano melody escaping through the speakers, nearly makes you fall back asleep. Your eyes flutter shut under your exhaustion and despite the slight warmth from the fireplace, Lucifer’s office is very cold, the brisk temperature is the only thing that keeps you from escaping into a slumber. 

“(Y/N),” Lucifer calls out to you and causes your body to lurch as you sit up in a hurry. You subtly try to blink the sleep out of your eyes as you face him. The kind smile you give him does not phase the demon in the slightest. Lucifer merely stares at you for a long pause before going back to the document in his hand. 

The entire situation just makes you so incredibly confused, why would Lucifer have you come in and not even give you any work? You could have been sleeping. 

“Umm, I think I should-” The words of your planned escape fall off your tongue when Lucifer glances up at the sound of your voice. There’s something about the expected stare he gives you underneath his thin glasses and the shade of his hair, the dark strands tinted with gray, that makes you squirm in your seat. “never mind.” 

Lucifer continues to stare at you as he carefully watches your attempt to save a pitiful conversation. He notices how you glance over his walls, the clock, and then back down at your lap. The demon focuses on your fingertips and how you tightly clasp your hands together for warmth. 

He seems to have forgotten in his time away from the human world just how sensitive humans are. 

The avatar of pride rises from his seat, standing tall before you as he extends his limbs to take off his jacket. He slowly circles the desk and comes to stand right behind you. His gentle hands softly push your upper body forward in your seat so that he can wrap the thick jacket around your shoulders. Once he’s sure that your arms have gone through the holes, Lucifer reaches over to button each clip extremely slowly. His long fingers capture your attention and you greedily watch with anticipation as he gets closer and closer to your chest. 

“Don’t fall asleep again.” He murmurs against your ear, his lips so close that you can feel them ghosting over your skin. You can only pray and hope that the demon can’t hear the loud thumping of your heart. “Understand?” Lucifer gives you a hard look as he finishes his work with the jacket and walks to stand back in front of the desk. 

At your obedient nod, his lips twitch upward. 

“Good.” 

For the rest of the session until breakfast, you sit in the silence of the light piano melody and the sound of his pen against paper. Lucifer doesn’t give you a single file to review. 

“Rest well tonight and tomorrow, I won’t be needing your assistance.” This new revelation before breakfast nearly makes you gasp, Lucifer rarely ever gives you a break. At the sight of your lips twitching as you fight back a smile, Lucifer scowls. “Don’t look so pleased, human. I will see you again the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay,” You quietly murmur before bringing your hands up to your cheeks. No matter what you do, you can’t stop relief from filling your face. It angers the other demon to no end, do you not care that he will be working all alone without you? Do you not care to extend the same politeness and ask if he still wants help? 

He’s aware of his incredible selfishness toward you and your time but, ignores it nonetheless.

Through his anger, Lucifer has to remind himself that you are both a student and a human. The fact that you put up with him so easily is a show of genuine kindness. 

The demon hates it to no end. He hates how you’re changing him despite how hard he tries to fight it. Lucifer is sure that he hates you. 

You become sure of it too the very next evening.

‘Come here now.’

The text from Lucifer comes without warning and you stiffen upon sight of it. Mammon, who looks over your shoulder, even screeches at it. Stupidly, you thought Lucifer would not bother you for the night. You thought you had a free night for once but, it seems the demon can’t even give you that.

“Is he mad about something?” You ask his brother because you really don’t get it, why would Lucifer tell you to relax and then demand that you go to see him? That seems like the opposite of relaxing. 

Levi shrugs his shoulders while Beel continues to down his popcorn. 

“Dunno, good luck! We can rewind the movie when you come back!” Levi’s enthusiasm is not new, he can barely rip his eyes away from the television. Mammon gives your wrist a gentle squeeze of support before you make your way out of the demon’s room. 

Finding Lucifer is incredibly easy since his office is somewhere you can walk to in the dark with your hands tied behind your back. You contemplate waiting before heading into his room, to give yourself time to mentally prepare yourself for his torture but, the quicker you enter, the quicker you get to leave. With that in mind, you push his doors open and step in without a second thought. 

His office is quiet as a soft melody plays in the background, if anything, the air seems relaxing. Well, it seemed that way until you entered. 

“Do you not understand the concept of knocking?” Lucifer asks without looking up from his pile of documents. His glasses rest on the bridge of his nose as he roughly notes something against the paper in his hands. The rough action causes you to tightly swallow the rest of your nerves. “I believe it is a common human world practice, is it not?” 

At your silence, Lucifer looks up at you with an expecting glare. The resentment in his eyes is something akin to frostbite and you’re sure you’re going to freeze over. 

“It is,” You answer and then take a few steps forward to stand directly in front of his desk. Lucifer hums before glancing back to his paper and like this, you can finally get a good look at him. Seeing the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes and the lighter strands of gray against the dark backdrop of his thick hair almost causes you to squirm upon sight. He’s a handsome demon and even you can acknowledge and appreciate that. Lucifer is ethereal even when he is glaring at you and threatening you with your life, you’re sure of it. 

“Then why is it that you fail to knock each time you enter my office?” Gone is Lucifer’s patience, it seems that you’ve been given the short end of the stick since you’re now the target of his bitter frustrations. 

For a brief moment, you mull over your words before choosing to tell him the honest truth. 

“I get nervous and forget,” Slightly honest, it’s true that you get nervous but, you fail to knock because you’re always trying to get in and out of his office as quickly as possible. Lucifer’s pen stills in his hand and his jaw clenches together tightly. 

“I give you no reason to be nervous.” He looks at you with a narrowed gaze as if he is trying to understand you, as if you will spill all your secrets under his glare. Much to his dismay, you remain silent and are unable to reply. 

Conversing with Lucifer is always a tricky dance where you try not to step on his feet. 

It’s best to get straight to the point. 

“Um, is there a reason you wanted to see me?” You stare down at his desk instead of his face as you run your fingers along the wooden trim. It’s distracting, a good thing to you, and a bad thing to him. 

“I can hear you all talking through the walls.” Bitter, Lucifer sounds undeniably bitter. “It’s too loud, I thought I told you to rest.” If this is his attempt at showing his concern for you, you find it to be weak. 

“I am relaxing, we are watching a movie.” Lucifer’s frown only grows larger at your words and you anxiously start to toy with your fingers. Your thumb runs over your knuckle and then the tip of your finger before pressing down on the digit to pop it. 

“A movie?” His voice sounds dangerous as if he is insinuating that you are doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. “Who is we?” The rapid beating of your heart must not be good for your health and you try to take a moment just to breathe. 

“Mammon, Levi, and Beel,” You answer truthfully as your eyes dart to a random corner in the room. There is no way you can face the disappointment in Lucifer’s eyes or attempt to understand him. No matter how much you think about it, you can’t understand why he is acting so difficult. 

“Sounds like fun.” He practically spits this out through clenched teeth and you finally look over him. Timidly, your eyes run over his hard face. The feeling in your gut is pity.

“Well, would you like to join us?” At your question, Lucifer looks at you as if you insulted his very being. His eyes widen dramatically and he places his pen down against the hardwood of his desk. However, the shock quickly evaporates from his face and is replaced with anger. 

“No.” His decline is firm, set in stone. “Unlike you and your head full of air, I try not to spend my free time doing such worthless things.” 

Your eyes narrow toward him and your nose scrunches up in disgust at his dramatics. If Lucifer was trying to offend you, he did so incredibly well. As you try to put a lid on your temper you think of your second rule that comes with surviving Lucifer, never let your anger get the better of you. 

Despite how hard you try to remind yourself to do this, the words work to no avail. Who gave Lucifer the right to judge you so hard? To pick you apart and pluck at any piece of you that he doesn’t find satisfactory?

“I wouldn’t want you there anyway.” The petty reply leaves your lips before you can catch it and the glare to match your words is not something you even try to hide. With just the two of you in the room, you have no worries about how this explosive decision would affect any of the other demons. Lucifer’s eyes narrow at the fight instilled in you. He slowly places his hands in his lap while keeping his deadpan stare on your face. 

“Excuse me?” He settles for this and tries to give you an opportunity to take it back. Horns appear on top of his head as voluminous wings sprout from his back 

“You heard me.” If Lucifer is shocked by your outburst, he does an exceptionally well job at hiding it. “Do you really dislike me so much that you have to nag me about everything?” You can’t help how your voice grows with emotion, how you firmly place your palms on his desk and slightly lean over the wood. “I do everything that you ask for and I do it perfectly. Would it kill you to be the least bit appreciative?” 

Your fingers twitch against the hardwood as Lucifer continues to stare at you. Timidness is flowing through your body once again and you try everything in your power to push it away. No good will come to you right now if you back down. It’s not like you can pretend this never happened, no, you have to push through. 

“Do I dislike you?” Lucifer repeats as he finally pushes himself out of his chair, standing to his full height to tower over you. He crosses his arms over his chest, letting his muscle bulge under his jacket and you have half a mind to think that he does this to hold back from lunging at you. “I loathe you, human.” 

Fear instills in your core and disappointment takes root at the painful feeling of it all. 

“What? Why?” You can’t help but ask him of this, ask him why he’s stepping all over your heart so easily. 

“No matter how much effort you put into this place, the Devildom will remain the same.” In contrast to your own wide eyes filled with glossy tears, Lucifer’s are narrowed and tinted with irritation. The bitter feeling rubs him entirely the wrong way. 

“You hate me because you think I’m trying to change this place?” No matter how much work you did for Lucifer, no matter how closely you followed his directions to a ’t’, it didn’t matter. That much is true for you now. “All I ever did was what you asked of me.”

“I did not ask you to change my brothers and I most certainly did not ask you to change me.” This is too much for you to keep up with, your head is spinning under Lucifer’s true feelings. “I see the way you look at me.” 

You instantly freeze and dart your eyes to the floor, he can’t be insinuating this. Right now, you’ve never wanted to run away and hide as badly before in your life. You can’t have Lucifer saying this out loud, not when you haven’t even said it to yourself yet. 

“Do you think that you are subtle, human? All the lingering touches and meaningful stares, I know exactly how you feel about me.” Lucifer’s harsh words stab at your heart, picking and pulling you apart. Unlike you, the demon doesn’t appear affected in the least. Lucifer still stands tall with his arms crossed over his chest and glare as dangerous as ever. “You will not change me.”

“Haven’t I already changed you?” You wish you would bite your own tongue and stop talking but, you can’t. The harder Lucifer pushes you, the harder you push back. At this point, you’re not even aware of what you’re saying anymore. You just want to affect Lucifer as terribly as he’s affecting you. “I-I think you’re wrong about how you feel about me.”

“Oh? Tell me, how do I feel about you?” The demon seems to be mildly entertained, his eyes widening in some twisted amusement as you tremble in front of him. 

“I think what you really hate is how much you need me.” Your hands instantly slap over your mouth after the words finally fall out. Need is a strong word. Regardless of how Lucifer claims to feel about you, you know the demon wants you near him all the time. Why else would he keep you attached to his hip?

It seems that the tension of the entire room, which is filled to the brim, explodes. Before, it was like a suffocatingly thick smog covering the two of you. Now the room is draped in heavy silence, one so loud that all you can hear are the ticks coming from the grandfather clock beside the door. 

You subtly glance towards it, the door, and start planning how exactly you can escape from this situation. 

“Get out.” Lucifer’s orders send you quickly excusing yourself without a second thought. Not once, do you look at him or think to do so. You don’t see the stunned look on his face or the pieces of his heart all coming together. No, you run back to your room and hide with your tail between your legs. 

Under the covers, you pray that no harm will come to you. 

Weeks have passed since that incident with Lucifer and all has seemingly run smoothly. The demon remains cordial with you and does not make a scene in front of his brothers. He simply hands you documents to review and makes you leave them outside of his office when you are done. The complete 180 shift of his treatment toward you almost makes you feel embarrassed about your previous words. 

How could you be so bold and claim that the demon needs you? It’s been weeks, much to your aching heart, and Lucifer has not asked for you once. 

‘I know exactly how you feel about me.’ His lingering words sometimes ring in your mind, forcing you into a state of humiliation. It’s safe to say that you somewhat understand your feelings for Lucifer better now, you can admit that how you feel about him is different than how you feel about anyone else that you know. Your affection for him makes the distance between the two of you more difficult to cope with. 

All you want to do is see Lucifer. 

“(Y/N), Lucifer wants to see you in his room.” Asmo knocks on your door in passing, delivering the words that seal your fate before he happily heads to his own room. 

You regret your earlier dramatics and begs for his attention because as you walk to his room, you can’t think of anything scarier than facing him. The demon must have a reasonable explanation to call you out and you hold onto the hope that it will all pass over smoothly. 

Once in front of his door, you actually remember to knock. The sensation of the hardwood against your knuckles momentarily distracts you from the anxiety in your heart and you’re thankful for it. 

“Come in,” Lucifer’s voice sounds sharper than normal as if he is on edge. You mentally say a prayer to anyone who will listen before entering his room and closing the door firmly behind you. 

The demon can’t hide the shock on his face when he finally sees you. His eyes slightly widen and his hand moves to rest over his chest. The moment of weakness doesn’t last for long before his face falls into a rather pleasant expression. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to knock,” He teases and you can’t help but awkwardly rock on your heels. You’re not sure what to say to Lucifer or how to face him. The demon can tell this right off of your face. “calm down, human.” 

“I’m not going to eat you,” His voice draws you in, and forces your feet to move as you walk over to the couch by his piano. “sit.” You sit on the edge of the cushion, incredibly close beside him, and mentally prepare for the scolding you’re sure you’re going to receive. “I am only going to say this once,” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping his anger won’t be too blunt. 

“Look at me.” There’s a soft touch against the back of your hand and you timidly open your eyes to find Lucifer’s fingers brushing against your own. You obediently look up at him. “You were right,” He grabs your hand with his own.

Lucifer is admitting to one of his faults, your lips part in shock and eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Right about what?” 

Lucifer looks you over as his eyes slightly soften and a gentle smile takes place on his face. 

“I do need you.” The confession nearly makes your heart stall in your chest and the gentle glide of his thumb against your palm does little to calm you down. 

“You do?” You repeat, testing the words on your tongue. Lucifer bends his head forward slightly, letting his hair brush against your forehead. 

“I do.” His voice sounds much closer now and you freeze at the proximity of his body. “I always have, please forgive me for always being so harsh with you.” One of his hands crosses your body to hold onto your hip, wrapping his arm around your waist. “It seems I was the one who was unaware of my feelings.”

“Your feelings?” Finally, you look up through your lashes to find Lucifer staring intently at you. He nearly sighs at the contact. 

“Must I spell it out for you?” He looks away for the slightest moment before bringing his eyes back to you. “I adore you, (Y/N). I was harsh because of it. I am terribly sorry.” 

You’re having a hard time keeping up with the suddenness of it all. It seems that you couldn’t have been more wrong about this meeting. While you were preparing for a scolding, he was preparing for a confession. 

“Is that so?” You murmur and attempt to hide your face from his stare. Lucifer gently cups your cheek and your skin burns underneath his gloved fingertips. The flustered state of your appearance nearly makes the man coo. 

“It is.” He confirms and dips his head to rest his forehead against your own. Lucifer doesn’t expect anything in return from you, just getting to express his desires to you is more than enough. “I apologize that I took so long to come to terms with it.” 

Deep down, the two of you always knew that you shared a mutual adoration for one another. 

With a slight tilt of your head, you brush your lips against his cheek. 

“(Y/N),” Lucifer warns as his eyes flutter shut. If you continue to be so soft with him, to love on him so kindly, the demon can’t be responsible for how he responds. “do you think I would be satisfied with such a sweet kiss?”

His hands tighten against your jaw before pulling your chin downwards, allowing his lips to brush against your own. 

“Please allow me to shower you with my love for tonight.”

. . .

2023/02/07 ♡

[funtarou]

Bully || Angst End || Suna x Reader

Bully! Suna Rintarou x Extremely Timid! Reader headcanons, part 2

Me questioning why people like this bullying trope. Are ya'll okay? Do ya'll need a hug?

So the popular demand is fluff ending. Idk what do people expect from a fluff ending after Suna has been acting so mean 🤔

Am gonna make two ending. But this one is the angst one. I'm gonna post the fluff continuation another time because I don't like making this post too long and making people wait too long✋

Story Warning: Comfort/Hurt ig, angst, mentioned past action of bullying, Suna kinda mean and dense, crybaby/nervous reader, curse words, small violence session, a lousy attempt at a quick redemption of a bully idk lol

Writing Warning: Like always, my English and Grammar aren't the best, sometimes I Made spelling mistakes, and I didn't proof-read my stuff enough Times to spot the autocorrect my keyboard put without me realizing it.

Read Part 1 Here

After a few more days of arguing with his ego and his heart, Suna decides to apologize. Even if you don't accept his apology, atleast he'll make some percentage of the guilt calmed down because he atleast attempt to say sorry.

His original plan that he cooked in his mind was simply walking up to you when you're alone and say sorry, before walking away again.

Well, that was the original plan.

He attempted that plan once, but when he's only a few more steps away from you, his legs feels like it turned to jello and his heart started to beat faster. He asumes it was the sudden pump of adrenaline from his guilt. But that uncomfortable feeling made him repulsively act on habbit and before he knew it, his hand was already pushing the back of your head down. Like he usually does when he passed by you in the hallways.

Your head was pushed down rather roughly and you almost fall from the sudden impact. When you looked up, you're meet with the person who you were glad stop bothering for awhile, until now that is.

When he realized what he had done, he quickly pulled back his hand and stared down at your figure, your head still hangs low in a pathetic attempt to hide yourself from him.

He was about to say something when one of your friend appeared and Excuse you from him before dragging you out of his sight.

Conclusion, he somehow became pathetic at self-control when being around you.

It pissed him off, and Made him remember why he hates when you're around. You always Made his blood boils and heart beat faster than before, and the feeling just went up to his face sometimes, making it look slightly redder. It's anger, it's hate, atleast that's what he's been telling himself. Because what else could the feeling be other than that. The only other times he feels like that is after practice or doing something that took his breath away, like sport.

That doesn't mean he's backing down from his own decision on apologizing one way or another. And now he started to take what Atsumu once said more seriously

"Where ya headin, Suna?"

Atsumu asked, seeing as Suna didn't cross the road like he usually do when going home after practice. Instead Suna continues to follow the twins as they turned a corner at the side walk. Ginjima was with them a moment ago until he stopped at a bus station.

"I'm just going to that store near your neightbourhood. Need to buy some stuff."

Suna nonchalantly answers, not even looking straight at the two brothers walking in front of him. His eyes are more focused on his phone and in the stuff he wrote in the notepad app.

"What could a Suna Rintarou buy in a gift and bakery store?"

Atsumu said half-teasingly with a chuckle, but inside he was actually curious and wanted to know the answer. Osamu was the same, waiting for answer even though he's not looking.

"a gift and a cake or something, whatever they sell there."

At first the twins just hummed in reply to the answer. And a moment of silence engulfed the three of them as they continues walking. It didn't took long till they reached the twins house and part ways, Suna still continuing his walk.

It took till the twins closed their doors before they proceed what Suna answered. And it took them another second to come bursting out of their house and running after Suna. When the middle blocker is in arms reach, the two immidiately cling to him, stopping his steps and almost making the three fall flat on the ground.

"WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING TO DO WITH A GIFT, HUH, SUNA?!"

"IT'S NOT ANYWHERE NEAR MOTHER'S DAY OR FATHER'S DAY AND IT IS SURE NOT CHRISTMAS OR ANYTHIN!"

Suna wish he had kept his mouth shut.

The twins ended up tagging Along in Suna's Shopping journey.

For the most part, Atsumu and Osamu were just window shopping, while Suna is seriously looking at the gifts and it's prize tags while measuring the amount of money he has left.

At the end, Suna decided to buy a pair of earings that's decorated with baby blue fake gems. Not the most expensive gift, but hey, he's still in Highschool and only given allowence once a month from his parents. Along with that, he also buys some chocolate truffles that came with a saying a card. Obviously he's planning to write "I'm sorry" or something in it.

The twins keep bombarding him with annoying questions Along the way back to each other's home. Most content of the questions are just Why did he buy those and for who he bought it. Luckily he could dodge most of the questions by answering vaguely Ir just repeatedly saying "it's whatever" or "non of your business".

Even tho he already got the gifts, he still needs a few days to Made up his mind and control himself. Trying so hard everytime to stop himself from doing something bad to you. It's a habbit at this point to bother you, you know? It's been one of his things everyday without a miss before he decided he wanna apologize. But he really tries okay. He's been talking to his mirror and rehearsing the stuffs he's gonna say, to the point his mom thinks he's gone coo coo.

At some point he thoughs this nervous and guilt-drowned feelings is too much. He's even acting like a lovesick teenager who wanted to confess to their crush but has little to no courage to. It's weird, he's trying to apologize and stop teasing you, not trying to get you to date him. Atleast that's what he said to himself.

Finally, he had found that courage inside of him to face and (try to) talk to you nicely. He feels like he's in a more fresher mood and state, and everything has been going smoothly since he woke up today. He didn't oversleept, the breakfast was his favorite food, the walk to school was calming, the weather is also very friendly, No homework due today and his lunch for once was homemade by his mom. Maybe this good morning vibe Will help him.

He waited till lunch break to go and search for you, drag you to somewhere more quiet and apologize with the gift. He already has the blue print in his mind of how the scenario might go. And he's even ready to vanish from your existence if you refuse his apology.

Lunch break finally arrives. But something didn't go as planned.

"Where are ya goin' Suna?"

Atsumu voice stopped him from going down the stairs, to the first grade's floor.

"... I have business with someone."

Suna answered a little bit hesitant. He only glanced slightly at Atsumu before averting his gaze back down to the staircase. But when he did look back at the staircase, surprisingly Osamu appeared walking up the stairs towards him.

"with who, Suna?"

Osamu asked, his monotone voice somehow sounding more intentionally intimidating than usual.

"Wha- Osamu when did you get there-- And it's non of you two idiot's business okay."

Suna tries to passed by Osamu to walk down the stairs, attempting to just ignore the twins. It's probably just one of their teasings or jokes again.

What he didn't expect though, was Osamu suddenly grabbing his shirt colar and slamming him againts the nearby wall in the middle of the staircase. It took him off-guard and made him cought from the sudden impact that travels through his body. His reflexes Made him gripped Osamu's hands that are still holding him by his colar. Even though Suna is taller than the quiet twin, but the view of Osamu's glare at him from up top wasn't anything pleasant. And for once, Suna's on edge.

"Answer, Suna."

Osamu's voice sounded like when he and Atsumu was in a fight, but more angry than annoyed.

"I- tsk, fine! I was going to see (Y/n), okay? Let me go, man."

Suna grunted, trying to shove Osamu away from him, only to be stopped when Atsumu's the one pushing him back againts the wall by his shoulder.

"And what? Steal her stuff again? Scribble every nasty sylables ya know on her books? Trip her down on her face? What other "jokes" are ya plannin to give her now, huh?!"

Atsumu yelled, the tone of anger clear in his loud voice. His voice also attracted passing students' attention and some stopped to circle around the staircase where the three is having a tense moment.

"-- What are you talking about, Atsumu?"

Suna tries to play it cool, act as if he doesn't know what the twins are talking about. He gave the two his own glare, but that doesn't hide the way his eyebrows curved in a confused manner. How did the two suddenly know? Did you finally decided to snitch on him after he has given you days of break from his rude presence?

"Don't play dumb on us, Suna. Damn, yer one sneaky fucker to be hidin' yer nasty bullying on (Y/n) from us. From everyone in the team. Last time ya trip her and Made her nose and knee bleeds, what now? Push her down the stairs?!"

Atsumu taunts at Suna with a low chuckle, but the smirk he has right now is anything but playful.

"Thank God her friend finally stood up for her and told us about ya. What did ya do all this time, huh?! She was so scared to admit it when we ask her... We even need to search through her room for evidences for some of your nasty acts. Why did she even try to cover up a shitstain like you."

Ah, so that's how. Her friend snitched on him. Damn if only he knew the bitch that blew his cover off. And he was so close from closing and hiding the problem forever with you without outside factors bothering. What a bad timing, he should've done it faster and yet his stupid ego just needs to get in the way.

"Yer lucky she doesn't want us to told on ya to the teachers and her parents. But get this, Suna..."

Osamu finally spoke up again, loosening his grip on Suna's shirt, only to throw a Swift punch across the taller male's face. Suna's head hit the wall behind him, before his body slides down the wall. It took him a few seconds to get his eyes focused again, the impact behind his head from the wall making his head rather disoriented. Osamu is shorter than him, but he was always the physically stronger twins.

"... Don't ever go near her again. Don't ever talk, don't even breath the same air as her. Or you'll pay the same weight as the one you've put her through."

Osamu continues, cracking his knuckles before stepping back for his twin to step in front of Suna. Atsumu didn't say anything as he grabbed Suna's colar once again and threw another punch across the untouched part of his face.

"We're being merciful here, Suna. One punch from each. And just so you know, your position Will be on edge in the team if we decided to tell coach or Kita-san about your attitude."

Atsumu coldly says, letting go of Suna to let his body slump back down. The twins didn't threw him another glance as they went down the stairs, passing through the students crowding the place. No one dares to speak a word to the twins, not when they look this pissed off.

It stings. His face stings and his chest stings. His head feels like it's ringing, and at this point he doesn't know if it's because of the punches or because of hummiliations. People are still just staring at him. Suna Rintarou, who was known to be intimidating to others, who was known for his nonchalant face and scary glare. Now that same Suna Rintarou is sitting in the middle of the staircase, two bruises on his face, feeling hummiliated by the crowds watching.

But there's another sting in his chest beside embarrassement. He cant quiet get what it is. It appears everytime he reply how Osamu warn him from ever going near you. It appears when he imagined being another stranger in your story, a bully that you forgot as time goes by. He though he already try to imagined this kind of thing, he though he was ready to actually be another nobody in your life after he apologize. So why does his eyes feels like it burns after someone else Made it clear to him that he Will not be associated with you in any other way after this.

The hand that was gripping the gift he was going to give you tightens. The gift bag crumbled behind his back, where he had try to hide it from anyone to see ever since he exit his classroom. He's not sure if the treats inside is okay anymore. And he could careless if the earings were still in one piece, or if the earings' box is okay. He wouldn't be able to give it to you anyways. Not with what the twins had say.

A few seconds passed by and a teacher arrived to break down the crowd. The teacher asked of Suna's condition and details of the previous commotion, but Suna were just giving her vague explanation and a "it's not a big deal" excuse. She didn't seem to commentate much, and just excused Suna to go to the infirmary to check on the bruises on his face. It weren't noticeable to him at first, but there are small blood on the side of his lips, where it probably got injured from that punch either Osamu or Atsumu gave.

He walks passed by the students who was watching the scenery before in silence. His head hangs low and he didn't bother to hide the crumbled up bag in his hand anymore. Not like anyone would care, they're too focus on his Messy looking self.

With all his luck going downhill the moment lunch break starts, he wasn't expecting to bumped in to you as he turned a corner. You looked up at him, already stammering your apology. But you stopped midways when you realized, 1) it's Suna and 2) his face looked beat up, two prominent bruises on his face and a faded blood stain on his lips. As if you forgot the person in front of you was your bully, you stood closer to examine his face, worriedness clear on your face and voice.

"Suna-senpai, W-what happened? It looks p-pretty bad. D-did Tsumu and Samu--"

"It's non of your fucking business, bitch."

Suna cuts you off, Made you go silent in the middle of your nervous sentences. Your hand that was going up to touch his face stopped mid-way, as you noticed his glare.

This was a perfect chance. A perfect chance to apologize quietly while no one is around, while the twins aren't around. He could've easily said sorry and hand you the bag while running off somewhere else. And he just blew it by saying more mean things to you. He though he practiced enough to keep his nasty sylables shut. Guess the twins' warning still has him on edge, turning on his fight and flight mode even in the calming presence of you.

...

Calming?

"B-but Suna-senpai--!"

"God you're so annoying. Cant you just leave me alone so those two idiots Will be fucking happy. Now fuck off!-"

It somehow hurts now, saying these words. He spent so much time thinking how he's gonna dissappear from your story' after he apologize and close the case between you two. He spent so much time thinking what you would've wanted in his head, how you'd love it once he dissappear. But he forgot to think much of the aching feelings he has, the so called "annoying" feelings that appears when you're around. The annoying yet sometimes comforting feeling.

He walked passed by your Frozen figure, trying to ignore the hurt and shocked expression you gave him after he yelled.

Even if he does realize what his weird feelings meant now, what differences does that make? He still has been a complete jerk to you. There are no sweet memories he gave. There are no comfort that you could find in him at this point. And the twins had already told him not to be involved with you in any way anymore. Even if he shouts "I actually love you" now, it won't change anything. He'll still be another random face in your story, clubmates with your childhood friends, someone you once try to avoid, a senior whom bullied you because he likes you but finally left you alone.

'God cant I turn back Time and forget ever saying hi to her.'

A/N: Gonn work on how to make a fluff ending from this point of the story now

For ya'll who just want the angst, ya'll can stop here ✌️

[ghostbustermelanieking]

Jmart with 1?

so i made this prompt entirely too complicated. i've kind of had this idea for a while and used this prompt as an excuse to write it lol. i need to put more safehouse fics out in the world, right? also can be found here on ao3

1. things you said at 1 a.m.

It's too cold, after leaving the Lonely. It shouldn't be this bloody cold in London in September—it feels like it's below zero—and Martin's teeth are chattering as they walk back from the Institute. His fingers are freezing. Jon's shivering, too, clutching Martin's hand with both of his, leaning towards Martin as if he is a heater. It feels like they need winter coats, hats and scarves and gloves to block the wind, but the wind isn't blowing at all; Jon Knows, without even trying, that it's really just 10°C outside. 

Martin hasn't completely shaken off the remnants of the Lonely yet. He's out of it, taking long moments to respond when Jon says anything; his eyes are still a faded gray. And he's shaking so hard that Jon can feel the vibrations all the way up his arm. He's tired. He keeps swaying into Jon's shoulder, unsteady on his feet. Hold on, Martin, Jon keeps saying. We'll be home soon. He squeezes Martin's hands. Numbly, slowly, Martin squeezes back. 

They go to Martin's flat, because Jon doesn't have one and the Institute isn't safe. Martin's fingers are numb with cold (Jon Knows without trying), fumbling around his key without getting a good hold on it before Jon reaches for it and asks if he should do it. Martin nods, quiet, and Jon lets them in. 

It isn't any warmer in Martin's flat. Not surprising, as deep as the Lonely had seeped into Martin, but it still hurts Jon a little to see, the cold seeping into his bones. They sit on the couch, vaguely speaking of dinner; Jon isn't hungry, but he knows Martin needs to eat, and so he presses the issue, thinking only of all the times in the beginning that Martin had pressed him to eat or brought him tea. He makes the tea this time, makes it the way he remembers Martin making it once, before the Unknowing, and brings the mugs into the living room. They never do make it to dinner; Martin is quiet, responding numbly, or not at all, to questions, and Jon isn't doing much better. Martin talks of moving to the bed—well, really, he tells Jon to take the bed and Jon says absolutely not, thinks It's your bed and I won't leave you alone —but it never happens. In the end, Martin falls asleep on the couch, his head tipped back against the back of the couch, his mouth half opening, shivering violently in his sleep, his tea going cold on the coffee table. 

Jon finds every blanket in the flat that he can and piles it over Martin, practically cocooning him in them. It's clumsy work; Martin's comforter keeps sliding off, and the afghan from the couch gets tangled in the extra quilts. But it looks warm, and that's all that matters, that Martin is warm. 

(There's fog in the flat, just a little, creeping over the floor. The Lonely is here with them, seeped into both of their bones, but it's sunk deeper into Martin, and all Jon can think is that he won't let him go. He won't let Martin be lost, not again. Not if he can help it.)

There are no blankets left. Jon pulls his own coat over himself, and then—trying not to feel too entirely pathetic—Martin's. It's large and warm, warmer than Jon's own; it smells like Martin, too, Jon's nose pressed against the collar. But Martin isn't gone this time, isn't off somewhere cloaked too heavily in fog for Jon to reach him; Martin is right here. Jon can hear his deep, shaking breaths, feel the comforting weight of him on the opposite side of the couch. 

He fumbles through the layers of coats and blankets and finds Martin's hand again. It is the warmest part of him, as he's falling asleep, his hand in Martin's. 

---

Jon and Martin sleep on the train to Scotland. They're both exhausted, both worn out, and both, somehow, still freezing. They shouldn't be this cold. Jon Knows they shouldn't be this cold. 

Martin's brought blankets, and he insists Jon take one; he's been better today, more there, more… Martin, and he wasn't happy that Jon didn't leave any blankets for himself the night before. Jon's so cold—even in a jumper and a coat, and with the sun coming through the window—that he doesn't argue. (Well. Only a little, only to see Martin's face screw up in mock irritation in a way that might make Jon melt a little inside.) He takes the blanket. It smells like Martin, too. 

They sleep, and Jon wakes up still cold, fingers still freezing, bones aching—except on one side, where he and Martin have slumped against each other, Jon's head on Martin's shoulder, and Martin's head against Jon's. The warmth seeps through the layers of blankets and coats and all of it. 

Jon stays there, leaning heavily into Martin, for a long time after he wakes up, not ready to move away from the warmth.

---

There aren't enough blankets in the safehouse. 

There is only one bed, which helps. One large bed—Daisy must have liked her space. But still: it makes the discussion over blankets easier. (They argue a little over who will take the bed; Martin tries to take the couch, and Jon tries to take the couch, and it begins to get ridiculous. It just makes sense, in the end, to share the bed.) Between the two of them, they pile the sheets, three quilts, and the blankets Martin brought on the bed. It still isn't enough. The bed stays freezing, and Martin stays freezing, too. He's been layering jumpers, scarves, even wooly hats, and pushing the same towards Jon; he looks like someone braving a blizzard, or sick with a cold, and Jon tells him so. He worries, afterwards, that he's crossed the line, made a joke about something distinctly unfunny (reverted back to a version of himself that he'd rather forget), but Martin just laughs a little and says, "If I'd known this would be the effect of working for Peter, I might've invested in more winter clothing." Jon laughs, too, and accepts the scarf and hat when Martin pushes it his way. 

There's a box of firewood out by an old shed. Jon doesn't bother speculating what it might be for. They build a fire in the hearth, that first night, and that helps. Read books they've both packed on the couch, their knees touching through the layers of blankets, and it's the most peaceful Jon's felt in a long time. 

The cold creeps back in, though. Even with the blankets, even with the ancient heating system in the house turned on, even with Martin in the bed with him ( Martin, who Jon has missed tremendously for seven months now). The cold and the fog and all of it; it creeps back in while they are sleeping, when Jon is too distracted to notice. 

He wakes up sometime in the middle of the night, shivering, teeth chattering. There is a quivering in the blankets, a sort of shaking, and Jon knows that Martin is shivering, too. The fog is creeping back in; somehow, the Lonely hasn't left them yet. Jon reaches out and brushes his fingers over Martin's arm; he hisses a little at the contact. One or both of them are as cold as ice; he isn't sure who anymore. 

His mind immediately begins racing, searching for any sort of alternative to the blankets and the jumpers and the socks and scarves. More jumpers in the suitcase, he thinks. The coats. Maybe they can conserve some warmth with the curtains, or some ridiculous thing like that. Anything to keep Martin warm. Somehow, two of the blankets have ended up on his side—Jon isn't sure why—so he attempts to rearrange them, pushing them over to Martin's side, and slides to the edge of the bed, ready to retrieve more things from the suitcase. But Martin's voice, rising blearily, sleepily from the other side of the bed—"J'n?"—stops Jon in his tracks. He hadn't realized that Martin was awake. 

Martin yawns, twisting in the covers, his teeth chattering a few more times. "What… what time s'it?

"1:07 a.m.," says Jon automatically. He shivers hard a few times on instinct, wraps his arms around himself. "I-I'm sorry, Martin, I-I… didn't mean to wake you."

"Mm, wasn' really sleeping anyway…" Martin yawns again, rubbing at his eyes. They look bigger, somehow, without his glasses, dark and soft in the dim light of the room, and Jon loves him so much. 

"I… I wanted to get you more blankets," Jon says, forgetting for a moment that there aren't any others—he revises, "O-or… something else to keep you warm. Something… y-you looked cold, I mean."

Martin blinks a few times in disbelief. Looks out at the blankets at the bed and pulls at the two knit ones from his own flat, like he can't believe they're there. "Jon, you… gave me the blankets back," he says, voice stiff thick with sleepiness. 

Jon chews at his lower lip, shudders all over as another wave of cold hits. "Y-yes, well, they'd… ended up on my side of the bed, somehow, and you… you were cold, as I said, and I…" 

"Jon, I g-g-gave them to you for a reason," Martin says, sounding more awake, and maybe a little fauxly put out; he's clenching his jaw as he talks in an attempt to keep his teeth from chattering. " You're cold, Jon. You were sh-shivering in your sleep!"

It's Jon's turn to blink in surprise now, caught off guard by Martin's words. "Yes, b-but you… you need the blankets more than I do, Martin… th-they're your blankets, and you've been freezing since the Lonely, a-and…" He looks out at the room. He can't see the fog anymore, but that doesn't mean it's gone. "I don't want to lose y—" he starts, stops. Martin might not be his to lose. Amends: "I-I don't want you to be lost, not again, a-and I…"

Martin makes a faint sound of what might be disgust. "This is ridiculous, Jon," he says, and Jon allows himself to worry for a second (Has he gone too far, saying I don't want to lose you, assuming Martin wants this kind of contact, when Martin only said he loved Jon, not love?), before Martin continues: "W-we were both touched by the Lonely… we've both been alone for so long, w-we…" He stops, rubs a hand over his face. Jon can feel him shivering from here, all the way across the mattress. (King sized. Why does Daisy need something this big?) 

Martin lowers his hand. His eyes are wet; Jon can see, and he worries still that he's gone too far. But then Martin's reaching across the mattress, his hand extended towards Jon, and saying, "W-we should just… it'd be warmer if we, um…" 

Jon slips his cold fingers through Martin's; Martin squeezes his hand, so gently that Jon's chest aches a little. He says, his voice soft and sleepy, "... C'mere?" 

Tentative, Jon slides across the mattress, through the nest of blankets towards Martin's broad, soft chest. And then Martin's arms are sliding around him. Martin's embracing him, hands soft and just as cautious against Jon's back. And Jon can't help it anymore; he melts into the embrace. Winds his own arms around Martin, pressing as close as he can physically get (arms around his shoulders, face pressed into his neck). It's easy, too easy, because Martin has been gone for so long and Jon just only now got him back—he's thinking of the tapes and Martin slipping away down the hall, Martin being taken into the Lonely, Martin's voice saying he wouldn't be coming back, and it's all too easy to cling to Martin hard as he can. They're both still freezing, skin chilled to the cut, but… Jon can feel it dissipating. Something warm is growing between them, he thinks. Something. 

"How did neither of us think of this?" Martin whispers. There's a quiver in his voice, just subtle enough that Jon can't tell if he's laughing or crying. "Two days we've been freezing, bundling up, a-and throwing blankets at each other like we're jumping onto a grenade… a-and neither of us thought of this?"

"I missed you," Jon whispers. He hears a sharp gasp from Martin, like he might cry, and it only makes him hold on harder. He's never held Martin like this before, never. (They hugged, before the Unknowing, but that was quick and awkward and over too soon, and Jon had foolishly thought there would still be a chance for this when he came back.) He's never held Martin like this before, but he knows he never wants to stop. He presses his nose against the hollow of Martin's neck and says again, "I missed you, Martin. So much. I… I don't think I can begin to tell you how much." 

Martin takes a few trembling breaths. Ducks his head to press his lips against Jon's forehead—Jon leans into the affection of the touch, the warmth. "I've… missed you, too," he murmurs. "So much, Jon, I… staying away from you, a-after you came back… I thought I'd lost you, a-and it… it almost killed me."

"I'm here," says Jon, "I'm here, you're here," and he kisses Martin at the soft spot under his jaw. Presses closer into the bubble of heat they've created, threads his fingers through Martin's hair and adds, silently, I'll keep you warm. 

When they wake, the next morning, the cold is gone, and so is the fog. Like it was never even there in the first place. 

[malfoyslovies]

heather - draco malfoy

Pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N wishes she were the girl Draco fell in love with.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: angst, self-doubting

A/N: this is a lyric fic based off the song “Heather” by Conan Gray—lyrics are in bold italics. also there’s no dialogue lol.

(not my gif)

i still remember

third of december

me in your sweater

you said it looked better

on me, than it did you

You sat alone in your common room, reminiscing about a day in December; a day you spent with Draco.

It was a good day. A day spent by the frozen-over Black Lake—him giving you his green polyester sweater, the two of you running around like idiots in the snow, neither of you having a care in the world. It wasn't a date, though. It was merely a day—just like any other day—that allowed you to spend some time with your friend.

You and Draco were friends. That's it. Of course, you wanted to be more. But Draco never knew, and now it was too late.

Now, he was in love with her.

only if you knew

how much i liked you

but i watch your eyes

as she walks by

You wish Draco knew of your abiding love for him. You wish he knew how you would literally die for him. You wish he knew how you would give anything and everything just for him to be happy.

He was happy with her, though. And you knew it was incredibly selfish, but you wished he was happy with you instead.

God, you just wished he knew.

what a sight for sore eyes

brighter than a blue sky

she's got you mesmerized

while i die

It was the girl Draco couldn't keep his eyes off of. You always noticed the looks they gave each other—how Draco subconsciously smiled in content whenever she laughed. You saw how much chemistry they had. Everyone saw. The two lovesick teens were the talk of the school.

You hated how you always got that sick feeling in your stomach whenever you overheard people taking about them. You didn't want to admit it was jealousy. You didn't want to be that kind of person.

But fuck, you just couldn't help it.

why would you ever kiss me

i'm not even half as pretty

you gave her your sweater

it's just polyester

The girl had Draco's green sweater draped over her shoulders—the same sweater that you had borrowed on that memorable day in December. You still remembered exactly how it felt on your skin, how warm it made you feel in contrast to the cold temperature the air was on that particular day. You remembered how Draco had lent it to you without a second thought, gently placing it on your shoulders with a warm smile on his charming face as soft giggles escaped from both of your mouths.

Now, it was her shoulders he had placed the sweater on, the same smile on his face as they both giggled, just as you two had. Except this time, he had placed a chaste kiss upon her lips.

Now, you felt cold again. But this time, it was a different type of cold. It was a deeper, metaphorical type of cold.

It was like ice water had flooded your brain, spreading to your torso and limbs and then wrapping around your heart until you were left with no mercy.

Now, you were sure you had lost him to her.

but you like her better

wish i were heather

Her name was Astoria Greengrass. She was a gorgeous Slytherin who was at the top of her class, both her beauty and her grades incomparable. Any guy would be crazy not to fall for her.

watch as she stands

with her holding your hand

put your arm 'round her shoulder

now i'm getting colder

You picked at your food with your fork, a lump in your throat as you watched Draco put an arm around her shoulders. She smiled big and rested her head on his shoulder before he kissed her forehead affectionately.

He was so affectionate with her, it was funny. You never thought Draco would show his vulnerable side in front of anyone other than you. But now, with her, he had no qualms with expressing vulnerability in front of the entire Great Hall.

And now you felt as cold as ever. You still felt the ghost of Draco's arm around your own shoulders. You could still hear the sound of him laughing at your pathetic attempts at cracking jokes. You could still see him smiling adorably at the subtle compliments you would give him, to which he would reply by complimenting you back.

You had realized that none of that meant anything to him anymore.

Or maybe he just never cared in the first place.

but how could i hate her

she's such an angel

but then again

kinda wish she were dead

How could you hate her? She was one of the nicest people at Hogwarts. She was selfless. She was intelligent. She would do anything and everything for the people she cared about, while also keeping the sarcasm trait of a Slytherin. She was an angel. It was impossible to hate her.

But then again, you kind of wished she were dead. It was awful, you knew, but you wanted to hurt her. You wanted her to feel the pain you felt. You wanted her erased from Draco's memory.

But Draco was happy with her, and Draco's happiness mattered most to you.

Even if it hurt like hell.

as she walks by

what a sight for sore eyes

brighter than a blue sky

she's got you mesmerized

while i die

Whenever you complained to your parents about something, they'd say, "Life isn't fair, darling." You’d always thought the saying was so simple and boring and overused, and that people just said it when they didn't have any good advice to give. You didn't think it held any deep meaning.

But now, it somehow did.

why would you ever kiss me

i'm not even half as pretty

you gave her your sweater

it's just polyester

You were stupid to think Draco would ever kiss you, that he would ever look at you with heart eyes, that he would ever love you in more than just a platonic way.

Perhaps if you had confessed your feelings sooner, before Astoria came along, Draco might've told you he felt the same. You could've been happy by now. But none of that happened, because life isn’t fair.

but you like her better

i wish i were heather

You knew she didn't mean any harm, but you felt astonishingly angry at her. Not only did she take the boy you loved from you, she took your best friend. It was as if Draco didn't have time for you anymore. You barely talked. Hell, he barely even spared you a glance anymore.

And you had no one to talk to about it. It was actually quite ironic. He used to be the person you would talk to about everything. He used to listen to you rant, or let you cry on his shoulder as he comforted you until you were smiling again.

But nothing lasts forever.

why would you ever kiss me

i'm not even half as pretty

you gave her your sweater

it's just polyester

You looked at yourself in the mirror, pointing out everything you didn't have that Astoria did. Perfect eyes. Perfect nose. Perfect lips. Perfect hair.

And Draco.

She had Draco, and you didn't.

but you like her better

wish i were

And you thought to yourself,

I wish I were Astoria.

[diavolosthots]

Feeeeeeeeeeeeeed me hot fallen Simion. My pussy is dying, for a dark, feral yandere fallen angel 💓💔

***REQUESTS ARE NOT OPEN THIS IS FROM LAST TIME***

Heres my disclaimer for all things yandere: I'm not the best at it lol

Warning: Yandere, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, manipulation

Falling ( YANDERE!FALLEN!SIMEON X GN!READER )

In retrospect, you really already knew it was going to happen. Simeon had been odd for a while now, straying further away from the light while Luke so desperately tried to pull him back. A child clinging onto its parent, begging them not to leave, but it was too late. You guessed it had started way before you even came into the picture, like a lot before. Your gut tells you it’s the aftermath of the war. The guilt and conflict, the inner debate over what both sides stood for and if he had chosen the right one, only to find out much later that he really hadn’t. He had served an absent father for years, taking orders from Michael blindly until he woke up one day and realized how badly he wanted to think for himself; to be his own person. 

Simeon fell, and he fell hard. Bright wings burning in the sky as he crashed into the Devildom, bruised and beaten, but with a smile on his face. You, especially, had been worried; that must have hurt, but he wouldn’t have any of it.  At first he was still much like himself; kind, funny, a little mischievous… until one day, he just… changed. His humor turned dark, much like Satan’s except so much worse. He would gamble, albeit more successfully than Mammon, and his confidence borderline narcissism, much like Lucifer and Asmodeus. His appearance changed, too. The white flow over his shoulders, the heavenly pants mixed with the leotard, all of it turned into leather. Dark leather pants matched with equally dark shoes. A black button up that only had the last two buttons buttoned on the bottom, stuck into his pants and otherwise revealing his naked chest. He wore jewelry too, his hair gelled back to reveal gold earrings that too closely resembled that of a snake, a traitor. Simeon became meaner, too, hating and ignoring everyone who didn’t like him or what he stood for, but most of all Simeon became jealous. Jealous of Diavolo and what he had, of Solomon who seemed way too happy in his own skin, and of you, because in all of this, you never left his side and it irked him. 

Your heart of gold stood out to him, something he hated but also felt the odd need to protect. He brushed it off as his angel side talking; the fall hadn’t been too long ago so it would make sense for some of the good to still shine through, but he really didn’t want it to. He felt more free, having fallen, and was one of the few that actually rebelled and took his dark side seriously. You had to beg Lord Diavolo more than once to let Simeon off the hook, which he found amusing and teased you for, “please, Simeon, just stop…” Your pleas to him were even better than your begging to the Demon Lord and he found himself laughing, “please what, (Y/N)? Do you not like me anymore?” It’s not that, he it wasn’t that. On some level, you actually loved him, but it was becoming too much for you. “Come here.” he’d always do this. He would mess up and then cradle you in his arms, keeping you close against his exposed chest while he promised things that he will never fulfill, and you fell for it every time. 

To you, the idea that something so full of light and love could actually turn evil doesn’t make sense and you desperately clung onto the sliver of hope that deep down he was still his old self. “Ssshh… it’s okay. You don’t have to protect me.” But you did. With tear stained eyes you looked up at him, finding yourself in an unfamiliar room that you would soon figure out, you could never escape out of. A soft smile graced his face and although you knew it was fake, it still brought some comfort because it looked like him, like the Simeon you knew. “But I do… you’re destroying yourself, Simeon… you’re trying so hard to be someone you’re not. You didn’t have to fall.” His hand cupped your face, his face turning even softer, looking at you like you were a child that just didn’t seem to understand the world. “My dear (Y/N)... you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to… your silly human mind just doesn’t have the capacity to.” Tears streamed harder. You felt like you were just being brushed off and you hated that he treated you this way. At some point, you used to be his equal. At some point, he treated you like you were worth something, but lately he had just been crushing you, making you feel smaller and smaller. 

“I’m not a silly human… I-I… I don’t need protection…. “ He shook his head, wiping your tears, “of course you do. They’re out to get you, (Y/N). You know why, right? Because you’re just that, a human. Tiny, fragile, and helpless. Nobody cares for you.” His words made you choke, quickly pushing off of him as you looked at him in disbelief. You managed to stand, trembling legs and hands finally finding the courage to walk around the room, the room you didn’t recognize, in an attempt to free yourself, “let me out…” your voice was timid, scared of what he might do. He had gone crazy before, picking a fight with Beelzebub in which the latter barely made it out alive had it not been for Lucifer stepping in. You knew Simeon would only need to use a quarter of the strength on you that he used on Beelzebub in order to break you, and you feared that. “Oh? Pushing me away, I see…” he stood up, slowly walking over to you, backing you up against the wall, “Why are you trembling? Are you scared?” It was a rhetorical question, he knew the answer to it of course. 

It was almost funny to see. You wanted to be there for him so bad, to make him see that you loved him and tried to guide him in the right direction, but at the same time he was so scary, too unpredictable, and so malicious. “Awe.. come here.” You shook your head, trying to go anywhere but near him, which was hard since he had you trapped. A laugh escaped him, his arms catching you and pulling you into his chest a little too tightly, barely giving you enough space to breathe, “don’t fight it, (Y/N). You belong to me. After everything you went through for me, trying so hard to prove your love… you don’t think I’ll let you go, do you? No… Honestly, I hate it. I hate how you try so hard to make me something I’m not… You try so hard to give me the same light that you see in yourself, it’s pathetic, really,but…” he pulls back just far enough to look at you, a sadistic grin playing on his lips, “but that’s going to make breaking you so much more fun. 

You shook your head, struggling in his grasp but his grip on you only tightened, laughter roaring in your ears as he turned you around and pushed you against the cold wall. Your face made contact with the bricks and you closed your eyes tightly, your body tensing when you felt him move just a little too close. His hot breath was tickling your neck when he spoke again, “oh Simeon… please… you don’t have to do this…” he was mocking you, knowing exactly what you were thinking. You whimpered, the tears falling harder as you sniffled, but he was quick to lick them away with his tongue, “don’t worry… I’ll be gentle… at least if you bring me more of those sweet tears.” 

[xseaxwitchxkpop]

Too Much Overthinking

A/N: This fic is pretty reflective of my own thoughts and pretty self-indulgent. While I kinda wanted to keep this to myself, I felt that there’s other people that could benefit from the comfort of the fic that I tried to go for. Self-love, or at very least self-acceptance, is such a hard journey and sometimes our heads get the better of us. The reader is not necessarily female, so I used no female pronouns, but the reader is framed as femme-presenting, so keep that in mind when reading. So many of fics like these end in sex and it irks me because us fat people are not fetishes, we are people, and deserve to be comforted as such, so I decided to write what I want lol. Also I chose Jongho because he comes off as very emotionally mature and very emotionally intelligent (ignore the fact that he was one of two members that caught my attention and made me stan Ateez lol).

Genre: Comfort

Reader Type: femme!reader, plussize!reader

CW: very negative thoughts, body image issues, a little emotional lol

Requested: NO

Group: ATEEZ -- Jongho

Word Count: 1,491

The boys stayed late at the studio, the night steadily getting darker as you stare out the window and watch the moon climb into the sky and shine. The day feels over already and Jongho once again misses the dinner you made him earlier, complete with missing the cute lunchbox cake you got to celebrate your two year anniversary.

Your heart sinks and your mouth turns into a frown -- you never considered yourself clingy or codependent, but there are times when perhaps you would like him to think about you a little more or that you wanted to stick to his side and never let go. 

But him missing this special dinner tonight triggered your negative thoughts and began a less-than-savory night for you; no, you don’t blame him for your thoughts because he didn’t force you to think the things you do, but the current situation certainly doesn’t help.

The soft blankets welcome you with arms of warmth and the mountain of pillows cradle your head as you stare at the ceiling with horrid thoughts running through your heads. You’re too fat, anyway, didn’t need the amount of carbs in the noodles. Your stomach sticks out and sweeps the edge of the counter in a way it shouldn’t, time to lose some! You’re nothing but a good fuck for him, he’s definitely trying to get another woman that’s thinner...they’ve been using a lot of female backup dancers lately…

You whip yourself around in your blankets, trying to squash the thoughts or at least put a temporary stop to them. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but you hear the door to your apartment opening and closing, accompanied by shuffling that indicates Jongho came by and took off his jacket, shoes, and made his way to the bedroom. 

You feel the bed dip down behind you and a solid chest snuggle against your back; his arm threw itself around your body and squished you against him, squishing your stomach in the process and making you feel extremely uncomfortable. His breath lingered on the back of your neck as you heard him whisper that he’s sorry for missing the dinner and that he’d make it up to you tomorrow.

You certainly didn’t want him to know you’re awake, but your mouth moves faster than your brain: “Are you actually?”

His breathing hitches, not realizing that you are still awake. The grip around your midsection loosened and you take the opportunity to lift his arm off of you and scoot away from him. He props himself up on his elbow and peers at the back of your head -- you can’t see the hurt and confusion in his eyes, but you can at least feel the searing gaze aimed at the back of your head.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks, wanting to reach out a hand and rub your arm, but forcing himself to stop. He knows that he fucked up by missing the anniversary celebration, but the synergy of the group was radically off kilter today and it took longer than it should have for all of them to perfect the choreography and he was going to explain tomorrow. But he can’t figure out why this bothered you so much -- you were always understanding and that’s one of the reasons you had his heart.

All you can do is sigh, not wanting to burden him with your negative thoughts, but your tear ducts have other ideas and so thus did your brain.

“What I mean is why stay so late? And without so much as a text or phone call?” you mumble.

“Hmm?” he says, not quite hearing you.

You sit up and turn yourself to face him, barely holding back tears. “Do you not love me any more? Am I not attractive to you any more? Am I just a good fuck for you at this point?”

Jongho’s face fell (not that you can see it in the darkness of the room) and he reaches out to your vague silhouette, wanting to caress your face. “Y/N --”

“No!” you shout at him, hugging yourself and scooting yourself further from him, the hard surface of the wall hitting your back.

“There’s gonna be a day where you wake up and realize that you don’t love me any more, realize that my fat stomach is not cute or good for gripping but repulsive, that my back rolls aren’t sexy but gross, that you’re just lying to yourself and lying to me! You don’t find me sexy, you don’t find my body attractive, and you’ll wake up and realize that and leave me! There’s so many better people out there, yeah, with thinner bodies, with no protruding stomach, with slim arms and a defined jawline, no fat poking out in their bras, with legs that don’t rub together and chaff and can fit beautifully into short skirts…one day, you’re gonna wake up and look at me the way I look at myself.”

Tears leave streaks down your face as you ramble. You tighten the blankets around you in an effort to hide yourself. And Jongho, your boyfriend of two years who has done nothing but make you feel loved, that shows you off in public and is proud to have you for a S/O, feels his heart drop so low he doesn’t know if it is in his body any more. His eyes also sting with tears hearing how you view yourself and he’s at a loss for what to say; he knows that you don’t think highly of yourself, but to hear it in its entirety, with you in tears and hearing, unfiltered, what goes on in your head hurts him. He remembers the intense struggle that Seonghwa had with his own image and how he still slips into that mindset sometimes, but you’re not Seonghwa and can’t be reassured the same way.

Jongho crawled his way to you and cupped your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes as much as possible. At a loss for what else to do, he places his lips gently on yours and just stays there; he feels the wet tracks from your eyes to your chin and the ragged breaths through your nose from your crying.

He eventually pulls away but stays close to your face, rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone. “Why are you thinking these things, hm? Was it because I stayed late? I really am sorry about that,” he whispers into the space between you two.

“I...I don’t know...I just...you’re using more female backup dancers...and you missed my...missed my dinner.”

“What do female backup dancers have to do with anything? Do you think any of them can take me from you?”

You look up at him as he hits the nail on the head, pathetically sniffling in an attempt to not only regulate breathing but also not to open the floodgates again.

“Oh, sweetheart, nothing like that will happen,” he says, pulling you into a tight hug, fighting you, fighting him because the last thing that he wants is for you to think he’s gonna leave you high and dry. 

You sink into him, trying even harder to not cry and trying not to think about how you look when crying, trying to ignore the thoughts that tell you that you being an ugly crier is part of the reason that you are horrendously unattractive.

“But what if it does? They’re fit, they’re healthy, they’re attractive…” you start, muttering into his shoulder.

“Who said that?” he counters with lightning speed, not letting you finish the statement. “You? You can’t trust your opinion of yourself in the mirror, how are you to judge what I do and don’t find attractive? You say they’re attractive to me because you don’t find yourself attractive enough to be with me, which your heart will tell you is not true.”

You can’t hold anything in any more and let yourself cry, and not just a small one. You soak his shirt with tears, you claw your way onto his lap and hold him in a death-grip, and you cried, a cathartic one that poured at your emotions into this one cry.

Jongho can’t do anything but hold you with a heavy heart; hearing you cry your heart out hurt him to a degree and he had to hold back his own tears threatening to spill. 

He leans back against the mountain of pillows, pulling you with him, and rubbing your back and squeezing your shoulder. You cry yourself to sleep, eventually becoming dead weight on your boyfriend’s chest, which he wholeheartedly embraced. He slowly falls asleep after you, promising himself that, despite the good communication you two had, he’d try to be more mindful of how much you feel loved and ensure that he doesn’t leave doubt in the future for his love for you.

[onlyswan]

cloudburst | jjk

→  pairing: jungkook x oc

→  genre: fluff, angst

→  warnings: mention of depression, profanities bc i curse a lot

→  word count: 1.2k

summary: cloudburst (n.) an extreme amount of precipitation in a short period of time, sometimes accompanied by hail and thunder, which is capable of creating flood conditions;

or the only word close enough to describe the peculiar episodes of rainstorm that befall the vicinity when jungkook and ivy’s skin touch.

note: so um i came up with this idea for like more than a year now lol it’s supposedly a story but my motivation always ends up short so i gave it a try today and ended up using jk and i badly need to post it somewhere so here you go i guess lmk what you think?

___

“the weather app said it would be sunny today. why the fuck is it raining cats and dogs?” the woman who just entered the café grumbled, her hair dripping across the floor with every stride she took on the way to a table.

 her friend it seems like laughed at her appearance, “i warned you that it rains here a lot yet you still moved. invest in all things waterproof,”

 ivy looked over at jungkook with a guilty look on her face, which he deliberately ignored. he continued sipping on his coffee, one hand scrolling through his laptop and the other with no plans on letting go of hers. they’ve been here before. they’ve fought countless of times because she can’t stop worrying about how their relationship affects other people, and well, the entire planet.

 “jungkook, humans need sun. the plants and trees that give us oxygen need the fucking sun. it can’t rain every day! we will die!”

 “but i need you every day. is that not an enough reason?”

 and how could she possibly forget this one…

 “the local government is panicking about the flood. it makes no absolute sense why it would rain this hard suddenly often. i think they’re executing a project to redo the roads,”

 “good. that’s their damn job,”

 the thing is… jungkook knows what he wants and he will not let anything stand in his way of getting it. this fact has been well established ever since he was a little kid. when his parents wouldn’t let him get the toy he was eyeing the moment they stepped into the mall, he made his own means and got it for himself, selling the drawings he worked all night on to his classmates and mooching off them for food during recess instead of spending his allowance on overpriced food at the cafeteria. they don’t support his career choice? that’s fine. he moved out and tried, is still trying, his very best to survive in the world outside their roof. to say his parents are still baffled by this action is an understatement. he might be stubborn, and well, bratty, but he never begs. he never asks twice. it is that simple. wait. correction. was.

 jungkook is a hopeless romantic. he isn’t shy about it, but he isn’t very proud of it either. he likes classic romance movies and that’s how he imagines true love would be like. he loves the yearning, stolen glances, shy compliments, petty jealousy. but oh my fucking god, not like this. he is whipped. there is no denying. the fondness he has even for the most trivial things about ivy fascinates him. why do the smallest interactions put a stupid smile on my face? why does her voice gives me butterflies? why the fuck can’t i get enough of her? his friends are terrified of commitment. if they could only hear his thoughts, they would laugh at his face. one day they will understand and i will laugh at their faces then, he would always think to himself when they discuss about not wanting to get tied down and bossed around. because he would do anything and everything for ivy. that is why he pissed off all the damn time. sure, he enjoys the longing and slow burn. but not when one small touch and it rains so hard it looks like the sky is going to fucking fall upon the earth, not when ivy is sad and he can’t hold her in his arms without making her feel more down. rain makes her gloomy and depressed, that is one of the first things he learned about her. the irony makes him want to laugh and cry. she always assures him that it’s alright, that she has found comfort in it somehow, because she has him by her side. and she means it wholeheartedly. jungkook finds it hard to believe her, but he smiles and kisses her anyway, the ringing of the raindrops against the roof turning mute. her kisses make everything better.

 her love language is physical touch, so when they both came to a realization as to why it rains every time they are together, she felt cursed. why? out of all people, why her? she had boyfriends before, but the connection she has with jungkook is different. he treats her right. she is generally shy but once she talks, she would go on and on. she rambles when she is happy, excited, frustrated, or angry. they all get tired of this eventually, but not jungkook. he finds it adorable, and he listens intently whether it’s about how fucked up her childhood was or how much she wants a black cat. he makes her feel happy and loved. but it seems like the universe is against her happiness. when things don’t go her way, she shuts everyone out and drowns herself in her own misery. she knows she’s pathetic, but at least she’s not letting this patheticness bother anyone else, right?

 jungkook never begs. he does not ask twice. but for ivy, he would get on his knees. just like when he spent the entire night knocking on her door.

 “just leave, jungkook. this is fucking stupid. we are stupid,” she made sure to speak clearly, to not wobble on her words. her voice betrayed her at the end. “we’re over,” it came out as a whisper and she was almost terrified that he heard it. he did.

 “let me in, please. let’s talk properly. how are you just going to decide that we’re done? there are two of us in this relationship, ivy,” he tried to reason with her, pulling at his sleeves in an attempt to warm his freezing hands. he wants nothing but to cuddle in her soft and warm bed, he’s in pain. he hates this entire situation, but he loves her most in the world.

 “you sound ridiculous. we haven’t been together that long. you will move on, and i will, too,” the truth is she feels ridiculous. yes, they haven’t been together for that long but she has grown attached. and this hurts worse than she expected. “…right?”

 “that’s bullshit and you know it. i don’t care about the consequences. i don’t want to lose you,” it has never been this difficult to walk away, so you know what? fuck ego. fuck the goddamn planet. “we will make this work. we have to. so when you’re ready to open the door, i will be here.”

 ivy smiled at the sight of her boyfriend focused on drawing on his tablet, legs crossed and the digital pencil gripped by his tattooed hand she usually loves holding, but she’ll let him work for now. he tsked when a strand of hair fell over his eyes, which she brushed back immediately.

 “just put your hair in a bun so it wouldn’t bother you,”

 he pouted, “you do it better than me,”

 “liar, you just don’t want to move,” she rolled her eyes but stood up anyway.

 “maybeee,” he chuckled, averting his attention back to the screen as she did his hair. she loves his hair, more so with that damn undercut, but she won’t tell him that and well, she doesn’t really have to, because he already knows. with the way she constantly plays with it and tells him to put it up? she’s not exactly slick.

 “thanks, baby. i love you,” he hummed. she kissed his cheek as a return of appreciation and fought back a wince when the lady from the other table continued complaining because the drizzle outside intensified to a rain once again.

 jungkook merely shrugged and turned the screen towards her. “what do you think?”