#oh yeah and i had tried to get promoted just for the pay raise because i was trying to move out of my shithole apartment

[gobbluthbutagirl]

i don’t know if this is going to be a positive thing to hear or what but i am obsessed with your worlds worst target odyssey and i hope you continue sharing its all insane and incredible. have a good day and stuff

well see the thing is i quit like 4 months ago. so there’s not really anything new to share and there won’t be until i move back to california and pay that beast a visit to see if it’s still standing. but it’s all tagged with “#my job wrapped” if you’re feeling so inclined to take a horrible journey

[kenphobia]

YOUNG AND RECKLESS!

"here's an idea! let's buy a cake, lure Elias out and throw it off a cliff. watch him get it."

summary. when the new hire and the hottest archival assistant become besties, all hell breaks loose.

contents. really really old content; somewhat ooc since i was too lazy to fix dialogue; wholesome, general fluff; there's not much of a plot tbh; not edited

The job were boring, you knew that from the very start.

When you first stepped into the Magnus Institute, a weird feeling had crept up on you like a snake slithering pass the halls and jumping at you with fangs sinking into your shoulder. Yet after the terrible, terrible interview with Elias and getting accepted into the job, that funny feeling slipped away once you settled into the notion of things.

You worked in the Institute for far longer than you would've liked, always having to look around corners because that sense of dread and foreboding death trickled in at the worst times possible (AKA when you're idly standing in the corner, waiting for the printer to finish its job). But the pay was good enough to pay your stupidly costly london rent AND your necessities at the same time, so you had to room to complain.

Though, you wish your boss wasn't so weird and creepy all of the time. Makes sense since this is an Institute known for collecting statements and artefacts regarding otherworldly, and dare you might say 'spooky', beings and events. And also for holding the highest MIAs/deaths record among all other academic institutes, but you digress.

Working in the library department was fine, nothing really big like the artefact storage or the achives. Like you mentioned, it paid a hefty amount and the place was quiet enough for your introverted self to get comfortable in.

Well, until you were brought into the archives and met the one and only (and possibly the hottest person in the archives), Tim Stoker.

After another excruciatingly awkward meeting wth Elias regarding your sudden promotion, you sighed in relief as you pass those doors and hear it close on you. You tried shaking off the feeling of being watched, but the loud pounding of your heart echoed louder than what your mind is trying to tell your body.

As you try to silently pass through the halls, squeezing yourself into tight corners despite having no one but you around, your body suddenly came into contact of another. You stumbled, nearly falling to the floor until a hand grabbed you and pulled you closer by your arm.

"I get that I'm charming, but really is no need to fall head over heels for me." You looked up and saw a man with bright hair. He was tall, taller than anyone in your family and his colorful outfit choice really made stand out from the boring, nearly barren hallway.

You raised a brow at his words. "Oh please. With how you bumped into me while being in a spacious hallway, I'd say you're the one who's head over heels here." You played along to his sudden flirtatious move, rolling your eyes and flipping off a strand of hair with the back of your hand. "You seemed like the type of guy who'd pay someone just to have a mary sue moment with their crush."

"Oh, you wounded me!" The man cried out dramatically, putting a hand on his chest and letting you go in the process. You were alreayd standing on your two feet and yet you still nearly stumble backwards. "But yeah, maybe I was or maybe I wasn't. I'm Tim, Tim stoker by the way."

Tim offered you his hand and you gladly accepted it, shaking it gently but firmly. "(Name) (Last name), it's nice to meet you, Stoker."

"Please, call me Tim. And the pleasure's all mine." He laughed, winking playfully.

And from that day moving onwards, you and Tim were practically stuck by the hip at every hour of the day. Wherever he went, you were there as well. And wherever you ended up at, Tim was closely following behind you like a unassuming bodyguard with a few tricks up his sleeve.

Oh, Tim's at the police getting evidence for a report? You were there as well, merely for fun and also you can secretly record police officers fucking up for laughs. You're out in the woods for a camping trip, getting wood for fire? There's Tim guarding both of your tents, rehearsing alpha male jokes to tell you when you come back.

It was almost impossible to split the two of you up. Well, almost impossible.

"Hey, (Name). Did you see the email Elias sent to everyone?" Tim called you from across the room, sitting relaxed in his chair while you turn your gaze away from the bright screen of your laptop.

"Hm? No, not yet. Why?" You asked him, despite knowing it was either about you and Tim or random changes being implemented into the Institute.

The bright-haired man struggled to contain his laughter, even bringing up his wrist to bite at his cuffs but even still he wheezed through his teeth. "Hgh— Listen to this!" Tim coughed, breathing in before displaying a poor impression of Elias.

"May I remind everyone that bringing in alocholic beverages are strictly prohibited in the archives, as well as bringing in any lighters or any item alike that could potentially set fire to 'important materials'. Sincerely, Elias Bouchard."

You raised your brow in amusement, chuckling all the while Tim stopped himself from bursting into laughter when he was impersonating Elias. "Is that so? Surely, no one has been bringing in alcohol or lighters into the archives. Right, Tim?" You teased, poking him with your words as to hint him to cough off his crimes.

Tim composed himself. "Yes... No, of course not. I mean, that would be stupid, wouldn't it?" He sighed, leaning on the office chair. "But... If you hide it well enough, then it's not so stupid anymore." He grinned mischievously, pulling out a flask from his pockets. It looked a lot like a calculator in his hands rather than a little alcoholic bottle as the metal shimmered under the buzzing, yellow-ish lights.

As he shook it, he didn't realized the looming shadow over him until you divert your eyes from his form and hold back a snicker. Tim looked at you with confusion, closw to saying something before he turned and saw no other than Elias' percing pale blue eyes.

"Is that so, Tim?" Elias spoke callously, though a wide smile was attached to his face, stretching skin across his facial bones like plastic covering. "Why don't you meet me in my office for a little chat, wouldn't that be lovely?"

Tim shrinks in his seat, averting his gaze down to the ground. "Yes. of course, sir."

You watch in half amusement, half concern as Tim is dragged out of the office by Elias. A familiar face peeked out of the corner, carrying a tray of tea and donning a blue cloud-patterned sweater.

Martin raised a brow as he settled the tray down. "What just happened?"

You pour some tea for yourself and drink from it, doing a dramatically loud slurping sound before smacking your lips. "The cycle of life, Dear Martin."

notes. this was supposed to be for a request but hhhh i need to fill the space somehow oopsies i'll do the req later maybe

[fandomworld9728]

Do you have a Staticapple-centric AU? I just thought of one, In many AU fics Human Alastor summons Lucifer but what if Vox did summon him just to get his dream career? Hold on! There's a twist! Vox was like a completely different person before death as he always had a cold-hearted and quiet personality so... Let me say Lucifer was the one who helped Vox on his personality shift and maybe... They fell in love in the process? (Maybe have Charlie as a staticapple child as a bonus in the end but that's up to you) and then after death, they met again? Maybe after Alastor rejected his offer just to save his old dead Vox personality Luci knows and loves or maybe follow the canon timeline and Luci would go and bring his Voxxy back to he once was. I dunno that's up to you

(Ooo~ That's a good one! No, I actually haven't made any StaticApple-centric AUs. Which is odd because there's a lot of potential there)

Victor couldn't believe he was so desperate to advance his career to the point where he was even considering what he was doing now. He must have lost his mind! Summoning a demon. Selling his soul. Was it worth it?

He could ask himself that later if this worked. Which he doubted it would. Thought, he supposed it couldn't hurt to try. He was going to Hell anyways…

Finishing drawing the circle and symbols, Victor lit the candles and waited. And waited. And waited- How long was this supposed to take?!

"This is so stupid! Why did I get my hopes up? I knew it wasn't going to work." Walking away and leaving the ness for someone else to find, Victor tossed the book behind him. What a waste of his time.

"Son of a bitch. That fucking bullshit book gave me a papercut." Sucking the blood off his finger, he almost left until the room was cast in a red and gold glow.

"Oh fuck."

~

Victor was freaking out. He had Lucifer, the first fallen angel and the King of Hell, in his apartment. He had not only managed to summon a demon, but the most powerful one in existence.

"I've been thinking. You should change your name to something unique. Something that stands out."

"I-I'm sorry?"

"You sold your soul to me for help in advancing your career, did you not? I'm doing my job."

Right. Victor had been so lost in his disbelief and panic that he already forgot. Shaking his head, he got back on track and tried to ignore that amused smile the devil wore.

"If you believe that a change in name would help, I supposed I could consider it. What did you have in mind?"

"Vox."

". . . What?"

~

It had been a week and already had soared in the rank thanks to Lucifer. The ridiculous name got him attention and opened the door to conversation. Also, the suggestion on covering the cult like set up from his summoning with a made-up story really sealed the deal.

There was only one thing that seemed to be stopping him from getting where he wanted to be.

"It's your shitty personality."

"Excuse me? You want to fucking repeat that?" Lucifer just cooed at him as if he were an angry kitten, which did not improve his mood.

"Vox. You've got to face the facts. You're a cold-hearted asshole who keeps to himself. You need to at least pretend to be a charmer in this line of work."

"Oh please. What would you know about faking charm?"

"I'm the least charismatic personal you'll ever meet, but I sure as hell can fake it. You know who I actually am? I'm an awkward man obsessed with ducks and who locks himself away for days. Weeks, months... sometimes even years at a time because he has no concept of the passing of time."

Vox was silent for a moment. Trying to process what the fallen angel had just told him. "That's just sad."

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up you dick. When you're ready, I'll teach you how to charm the pants off of anyone you come across."

~

Vox didn't like this. Not one bit. Over the past couple of months, Lucifer's lessons had paid off. He had gotten a promotion that came with a nice pay raise and decided to move the two of them into a nice house closer to his job.

The hours had become longer though, what with meetings and late nights out with his coworkers. Though, no matter what, Vox always came home to a hot meal and Lucifer there to greet him.

Sometimes he'd come home to the demon fast asleep on the couch, trying and failing to wait up for him. Every time he'd wake him up, he was greeted with a sleepy smile and a welcome home.

They spend so much time together, learning about each other and growing closer. Vox is the one who earned those soft, beautiful smiles and those tinkling laughs. He did. Not those useless wannabes surrounding his angel and trying to touch him.

It wasn't even the women piss him off. It was the men. They thought that they were being sneaky. But the more those bastards had to drink, the ballsier they became.

Hands on Lucifer's hip or lower back, lips too close to his ears, and he put up with it for Vox. To help him with is career, get him connections. Not only because of their deal either. The demon had confessed to him one night that he had grown to care for him.

It had been a pleasant surprise to know that someone, especially someone like Lucifer, cared about him. That he wasn't alone.

A growl slipped passed Vox's lips as he saw a hand go to his angel's ass and squeeze it. That paired with the look on Lucifer's face had him downing his drink and slamming it down hard enough he was surprised it hadn't shattered. Making his way over, he grabbed Lucifer's hand and dragged him away without a single word.

"Whoa! Vox? What's wrong? I-If it's about that guy, don't worry. I can protect myself. It was just harmless flirting on his part."

"Oh? So, you just let any man grab you like that? Do you enjoy it? Having their disgusting, unworthy hands all over you."

"What? Where is this- wait. Are you jealous?"

Once in private, Vox crowded the other man against a wall. He wanted to keep him close, make sure he couldn't just run away.

"Jealous? Jealous?! Of course I'm jealous! How can you just let some nobody like him touch you that way so freely?! He doesn't deserve the honor... all he wants from you is your body. He doesn't care about you or love you like I- ..."

Ah fuck. Vox had gotten so worked up that he let his feelings for the fallen angel slip out. Vox waited and braced himself for the rejection. After all, even if they were separated, Lucifer was still very much devoted to his wife when it came to his heart.

However, instead of rejecting him, all Lucifer did was give Vox that soft small smile he loved so much. A golden blush settled on his cheeks as he reached up to hold his face.

"You love me?"

~

Why was he remembering all of this now? Remembering all that he had lost the day he died? Vox hadn't been able to find Lucifer and the king never reached out to him.

So, of course, at his lowest the sinner was reminded of the only other man he had ever loved. Right after he had been rejected and almost died in a fight with the man who had broken his heart.

Sitting up in a bed he'd never seen before, Vox took a moment to gather himself before he went back to Valentino. He had no desire to go back to the moth demon, but he was the only one he had left.

"Yay! You're awake!"

Lifting his head, Vox was surprised to see the most adorable little girl climbing into his bed. She reminded him of someone.

Like, if Lucifer had strikes of black in his hair and swirls of blue in his red eyes. Was... was this girl his daughter? Did the king not wait for him and that's why he never reached out or tried to find him? If so, why was his kid smiling at him like this?

"Daddy! He's awake!"

"Okay Charlie. Let's not yell, duckie. He's still recovering."

Walking into the room was a worried looking but smiling Lucifer. It was that soft smile he loved so much, the one he hadn't seen in so many years... He looked the same as when they last saw each other, only with exhaustion clear on his face. Though, he was still the most beautiful creature Vox had ever seen.

"Well, look who it is. I finally found you. Actually, Charlie did."

A proud smile on her lips, Charlie stood on the bed and put her hands on her hips. "Yes! Charlie is amazing! She found papa!"

". . . Papa?!"

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Every Little Thing *He* Does is Magic, Chapter 2

Pairing: Platonic Steven Grant x Reader (for now)

Rating: T

Word count: ~800

Story Summary: The events of Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, retold from Reader's perspective after the fact to her best friend.

Tags/Warnings: Companion fic, canon Divergent since Steven still works for the British Museum post-canon, No Jake Lockley, developing friendship, spoilers for ELTSDiM

A/N: Double update since this one is so short! Proceed to chapter 3. 😉

“...So how did the rest of your first week go?”

Y/N smiled as she FaceTimed with Amy while making herself dinner the following Friday night. “It went well! Most of it was reading paperwork and meeting various benefactors and trustees, but my meeting with the Curatorial staff today was really productive. The Egyptian exhibit should only be closed for a few days at most to install the new artifacts.”

She paused to take a sip of water. “Steven made a great suggestion to bring some vases up from storage to spruce up the Ancient Greek collection, which can literally be done overnight, so we'll be updating that area as well.”

Amy grinned. “ Steven did, huh?”

Y/N nodded, ignoring Amy’s suggestive tone. “He also had a lot of really great, out-of-the-box ideas on how to improve the tours and said he could have a sample tour based on those ideas to show me by Monday morning.” 

“Oh that's great! I know you were hoping to have the tours redone before those new artifacts are in place.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, but I felt bad because I probably shouldn't have had Steven do any VES-related tasks until he officially started on Monday even though he signed the paperwork today. After he and I wrapped up our solo meeting he mentioned needing to get back down to the gift shop since he was technically still employed as a clerk until Sunday.”

Amy winced. “Oh oof, yeah, I'm sure that's an entirely different pay grade, although from what you’ve said it seemed like he didn’t actually mind doing tasks for his new position early.”

Y/N shook her head. “That’s what I thought too, but then he clarified that it was only because he knew I was busy and he didn't want to bother me by… how did he put it? Oh yeah, ‘hovering’.”

“Oh, okay, good. That was really considerate of him.”

Y/N nodded, a small smile forming on her face at the memory. “Yeah, he definitely seems like he's a really caring person. I told him he wasn't bothering me and that after staring at a mountain of paperwork and meeting a bunch of people with tangential connection to the museum it was nice to be able to actually talk to someone on staff.”

Amy winked. “Specifically him though, right?”

Y/N huffed out a laugh. “I have to admit, it definitely didn't hurt that it was him. Anyway, he asked me how I was settling in and I said that the staff had all been really welcoming for the most part and that I wasn't sure how I was going to be received since I'm not British, and then he said that it didn't matter where I was from, that my qualifications spoke for themselves.”

Amy raised an eyebrow, her lips turning up in a smile. “So basically everything I said when you were freaking out about everyone hating you.”

Y/N huffed out a breath, a smile on her own face. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. He really did have to get back downstairs after that though because I had a phone call I had to take.”

“So do you think everything is going to work out?”

Y/N nodded. “Everyone seems on board with the changes I'm making so far, and I really do think Steven’ll make a great Visitor Engagement Specialist -- he’s incredibly knowledgeable and observant.”

“And hot,” Amy added with a smirk. “And exactly your type.” 

Y/N’s face heated. As much as she’d tried over the past week, she couldn't completely ignore her attraction to Steven. “Maybe, but that has nothing to do with my belief in his ability to do his job or why I promoted him in the first place.” 

Amy let out a light laugh. “I know, I'm just teasing you.”

“Either way, I'm looking forward to seeing his ideas for the new tours in action.” Y/N paused. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, in addition to the Egyptian artifacts on loan from Cairo, we just had a donation of first editions of several classic British novels come in.”

Amy’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, now you're speaking my language.”

Y/N grinned. “I thought you'd be interested in that. I'll send you some pics once we get them authenticated and the display is set up.”

“Please do.”

Y/N nodded as she turned off her stove. “I should run, my dinner is ready. I'll talk to you later though, ‘kay?”

Amy nodded. “Okay, talk to you later.”

“‘Night, Ames.”

“‘Night!”

Y/N ended the call then plated her food.

As she sat down to eat, her mind drifted to Steven. His ideas for revamping the tours really were great and Y/N was excited to see them in practice.  I can't wait until Monday.

[erigold13261]

Concept: Vinyl City as not only the Musical Capital of the World, but also the Queer and Disabled Capital of the World. HRTs, any sorta gender affirming care, prosthetic limbs, AAC devices, Sigh Language being mandatory in schools… you name it, the city’s got them all!!!!!!!!

I like finding hope in a fictional world and believing humanity can do better at caring for each other

Considering how big the city is implied to be, I would definitely see it as already having all that stuff whether or not it was going to be known as the Queer and Disabled Capital of the World.

But you are right in that sense! I can see the megastars all influencing the politics of the city to make it the better world they wished they had when they were younger.

Neon being a strong supporter of easy to afford cybernetics/prosthetics and advocate for robot and queer rights. Also deals the most in making sure everything is as accessible as possible or there are alternates if that thing literally can't be made accessible.

Sayu and Eve being big proponents of learning multiple languages, and making sure sign language is seen as a real language (because some people don't see that).

Sayu also making sure things are accessible, especially for physically disabled individuals. Probably also does anti-drug campaigns with the Mermaid Club (like those posters with the Mermaids on it saying things like "Drugs aren't cute!" idk)

Eve is definitely the biggest promoter of mental health care. Trying to make sure things are affordable and that not just anyone can become a therapist. Along with wanting to promote active living and exercise as best as possible.

DJSS and Mama trying to make education better in the school system. Raising standards and funding for public schools to be on the same footing as private schools or personal tutors.

I can also see those two, plus Neon and Sayu, as being strong advocates for healthy eating. Sayu talking about eating disorders, Neon and DJ as making sure everyone can get food no matter what, and Neon and Mama making sure health plans in schools and food standards are all up and implemented.

Tatiana trying to make Vinyl City more pedestrian-safe. Like trying to turn the city into a walkable one. I can see her restructuring the public transport systems and making stores and homes more integrated instead of doing that stupid thing where all the shopping areas are located far away from any residential areas.

1010 would promote anything that Neon is also promoting, but I can also see them advocating for abuse survivors. Especially children in need, but also other abuse victims (relationship, work, sexual). Also not to mention they and Neon advocate a lot for veterens and housing.

Oh, Yinu and Mama would also be building more funds and trusts that help in the medical sense. Basically trying to make healthcare extremely easy to get and pay for, especially when it comes to big surgeries.

All of these things are also supported by artists not named, but the ones named are those who if you ask a citizen, they will say "Oh yeah, Neon J/1010 are the big supporters of cybernetics."

And of course, each artist tries to support the queer community. Making shelters and safe places for queer events to take place. Funding and running pride parades and NSR sponsored queer events. Just literally showing up in their flag colors on stage or something. And of course not tolerating discrimination or bigotry within the city.

[incarnateirony]

Ok. I might crack. I'm being asked to apply again, this time to be a Trainer. Which, apparently, makes even more money than Supervisor. They're like PSPSPSing me with a ten dollar raise at this point.

Apparently the supervisors have already been giving people my verbage in consults and supervisions, like I straight up got shown what text blocks of mine are being given out.

Apparently, Training as a division got a new director, everything, and they really, really want someone in training. Me, I'm Someone. They're trying to rip me off the front lines at this point and understanding my vibe, they're like, no see, you'd do 40 as this and then you could do incentive at 1.5 pay eight hours a week if you wanted, before overtime 1.5, so they're like pspspsps no see you can still go psychopomp on the front lines and you'll make like sixty dollars an hour ez pspspsps please

"love getting in ur head and knowing what you're thinking", me, trying not to die laughing at the way my ~supervisions go

"Siiiince you have exposure to other crisis workers chats, I think it's fair to say you have a sense of... you are not normal, and I mean that in the best way."

"I know."

"You're just. Really great with people. I guess."

"Yeah, thanks.'

"I just feel like you were made to be a teacher at this or something."

"Really, now?"

Had a chat about the fact that my bosses completely understand I only open my consults on technical need to by order of operations, not for need of consult, and that she knows to give me space. I mentioned noticing that when I went to work another shift, I noticed the absence in comparison, because the supervisor there tried to hands on be helpful almost too much until they realized they could chill. And she's like. Yeah, it's like that with the old ones here, sometimes you don't know the faces outside of your team or time and it's like, oh, nevermind, this is an eldritch counselor, my bad.

She kept trying to make sure she wasn't ~stressing me out making me her go-to for followups now that company delegation of them changed, since I also work in the followup department now, and so on, and it's like, no i'm good, i'm cool

We're massively overbusy right now, for the record. She even said, "if you've been thinking to yourself, is it just me, or is it really weirdly busy, it's not just you." "Thanks."

Almost like there's a connection of psychotherapy and psychopomping in the more intuitive arts of guiding the lost, idk, weird.

Never have I ever had a job I keep passing up promotions and just keep being offered bigger moneys to beg my cooperation

they are literally like fry.takemymoney.memeing me

I also get 24 hours additional personal leave in july regardless of whatever

Update: coworker chatter off the main teams bloc is SENDING me

[casspurrjoybell-18]

Mutual Desire - Chapter 71

*Warning - Adult Content*  

"Um, is everything okay between you two? I felt some sort of tension."

Damien wanted to tell Nick that whenever he and Craig happen to be in the same room there is always tension but he refrained, not wanting to start a topic of conversation that wasn't going to go anywhere.

"What are you doing here, Nick?" Damien said, unfairly upset.

Nick put a hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt.

"Ouch. What a way to welcome me. Someone got up on the wrong foot I see. And your eyes are red. Have you been drinking?"

"I have to go Nick," Damien informed him as he stared walking, leaving his best friend behind. "I have a supper for Sam's birthday waiting for me."

Damien was almost at the door when he took his phone out of his pocket to check the time 7:03 p.m. was displayed on the screen.

He still had time to arrive on time and be there to yell ‘SURPRISE’.

"Hey, wait a minute," Nick called out.

Damien turned to face his best friend who had followed him to the door.

He was starting to get impatient and just like with Craig, he was trying to control his irritation.

"First, you're going to explain why you didn't answer my texts or calls."

So much had happened in such a short time that Damien had completely forgotten that Nick had tried to contact him.

"I was in a hurry to get ready for Sam's supper and I didn't pay attention to my phone. And now I'm going to be late if you keep holding me back."

Damien was about to turn around but was stopped by Nick's protests.

"Wait wait." Nick said, raising his voice.

"This supper thing isn't going take the whole night, is it?"

Damien sighed in irritation and looked at his phone screen as some sort of reflex.

"I doubt it. It's at Andrea's parents and I don't see..."

"Who's Andrea?"

Another irritated sigh escaped Damien.

"Sam's fiancée. You know, the one who invited you to the wedding by handing you the card in person?" he said condescendingly and annoyingly.

"Oh. Yeah that's right. The mute is getting married in August," Nick reminded himself.

Damien rolled his eyes.

Nick tended to call Samuel ‘the mute’ because Samuel hardly ever speaks.

"Okay then. Text me when your boring supper is over. Gianni and Elio managed to book a booth at the last minute at Neon Sky. I've gotten some pretty good news today," Nick said with a huge smile on his face.

Three thoughts crossed Damien's mind.

The first was for his disdain for Nick's two close friends, Gianni and Elio.

He thought they were pretentious, loudly obnoxious and lacked tact.

The second thought was for the ‘Neon Sky’ club.

Damien remembered how he had found the DJ's playlist was an absolute killer, so much so that he had thought about hitting the dance floor, something he never did at the club.

The third thought was for this good news Nick claimed to have received.

Damien was particularly anxious and had his guard up, because he knew that this good news must necessarily have a link with Nick's work, therefore with the software and therefore with Nabokov.

Damien had just realized an important thing he hadn't taken into consideration when he said his farewell to Nabokov.

His memory suddenly came back to him and, alas, much too late.

He bitterly remembered Nabokov's condition so that Nick's project could be part of his choices.

With everything that had happened, it had gone completely over his head and he had unconsciously buried this unpleasant memory deep in his memory.

The Russian man's degrading condition was one night of fucking and now that it was official that Damien had no intention of sacrificing his body, it obviously meant that Nabokov wasn't going to go through with his end of the bargain.

"Good news?" Damien Clark asked intrigued.

Nicolas D’Alonzo's big arrogant and amused smile lit up his face and it did nothing to calm Damien's apprehensions who was doing everything to not show his nervousness.

"I might be in a good position for a possible promotion," Nick announced proudly, his ocean eyes dancing with joy.

"A promotion?" Damien repeated, trying to maintain the same enthusiasm as his best friend but failing.

Damien didn't like the turn this conversation was taking.

"Yeah. I'm gonna celebrate tonight and get fucked up," Nick informed, his smile widening by the second, making him look like a kid on his way to Disneyland.

This news of a possible promotion had surely been announced before Alexander Nabokov and Damien spoke to each other.

Now that the Russian man knew it was Craig Damien had chosen, it was only a matter of time before Nick found out that Damien had lied to him and that Nabokov had never officially selected his project among his choices.

Damien was totally fucked.

Completely fucked.

"So, you're possibly in line for this promotion because your software was picked?" Damien asked, adding salt in the wound, as if he wanted to torture himself even more.

Nick nodded with excitement and pure joy that pinched Damien's heart.

His already distressed mood darkened further.

"Yeah and it's all thanks to you, Dam. Ask me whatever you want."

Damien was aware that he could no longer go on like this.

He had to tell Nick the truth.

"Listen Nick, I have something I need to tell you and..."

The ringing of a phone cut off Damien rudely.

It was Nick's because of course it was.

Nick answered the call and Damien took advantage of his best friend's inattention to go back in his living room and take a seat the sofa, leaving Nick alone next to the door.

From a distance, Damien could hear Nick's voice but not what he was saying.

Damien sighed and closed his eyes.

He definitely couldn't have even one moment of peace today.

As soon as Nick was done with his phone call, Damien was going to get everything off his chest.

He now had no intention of keeping secrets from his best friend and he fully understood that the time had come to be honest and take that weight off his shoulders.

Damien was aware that it would take him a lot of courage to be able to tell Nick the truth.

He was about to take a huge risk concerning his friendship with Nick since there was a good chance that Nick wouldn't forgive him his lies as well as his relationship with Nabokov.

It was a safe bet that the friendship between the two men was going to take a hit and maybe even break permanently.

Damien couldn't bear imagine his life without Nicolas in the picture.

The two best friends had once been apart for almost a year and Damien had found it unbearable.

He didn't want to go through that again.

"What were we talking about?" Nick's voice startled Damien who hadn't heard him cross the living room, far too lost in his thoughts.

Nick was standing in the same place where Craig was a few minutes ago.

His eyes were on his phone and he seemed to be texting, his fingers moving fast across the screen.

Damien was staring at his best friend, his gaze completely blank, as if he were looking through Nick.

Nick, after a few seconds spent giving his attention to his phone, raised his head and laid his eyes on Damien who was looking at him just as much, his expression lost.

"Damien? Are you okay?" Nicolas D’Alonzo asked worryingly, with a slight raised eyebrow.

Damien Clark heard Nick but he was unable to answer him.

He was just staring at him, as if he were under the influence of heavy medication which made him completely numb.

It was as if Damien realized that there was a good chance that he would soon lose Nick permanently and that Nick would break off their friendship when he heard of the secrets Damien had kept from him.

He was afraid of losing his best friend, his brother. His heart was pounding against his chest like a drum.

"Did you find out you were pregnant or what?" Nick scoffed to ease off the atmosphere that had suddenly grown heavy.

Damien had no reaction.

The only movement coming from him was the blink of his eyes. Nick's amused expression quickly changed to worry and confusion.

"Okay, you're scaring me now. What's going on? You look awful," Nick said, alarmed, an uncharacteristic serious look on his face.

"Craig left me, it's over," Damien said suddenly, his voice choked.

Total amazement arose on Nick's face.

He opened his mouth slightly, but no sound came out.

"Oh. Fuck," Nick muttered under his breath.

Damien finally looked away and lowered his head.

He had found it best to start at the heart of his confession with his breakup with Craig and gradually move on to his relationship with Nabokov.

It was as if, subconsciously, Damien was delaying the unveiling of his most cumbersome secret as long as he could.

"I didn't expect that," Nick admitted, visibly in shock.

Damien rested both elbows on his thighs and he covered his face with both hands, giving the impression that he was meditating.

"Is there still a chance for things to work out between you two?" Nick asked with a hint of hesitation in his voice.

This question wasn't difficult to answer.

Damien was aware that the chances of Craig returning with him were next to zero.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head.

"You're sure? There's probably a..."

"I cheated on him, Nick," Damien interjected, now looking his best friend straight in the eye.

Nick's eyes widened and his eyebrows rose.

"What?" he exclaimed, amazed.

Damien looked away, staring into the void in front of him.

He knew it was going to be an emotionally draining ordeal to confess everything to Nick but he didn't expect to feel so torn inside.

"But why Damien?" Nick asked, his tone soft and concerned.

Why?

Damien thought that there were so many possible answers that were as pathetic and sad as one another.

‘Because I'm an asshole. Because someone pissed in my brain. Because I've never been good enough for Craig.’

That's what Damien would have liked to answer but he did nothing of the sort.

"I don't know, Nick. I don't know," Damien whispered, shaking his head again, his gaze lost.

Damien ran his hands over his face to his neck.

He felt Nick's gaze on him.

A gaze that must have been loaded with pity and confusion.

"I thought you loved him," Nick said tenderly.

"I still love him, Nick," Damien corrected in a whisper.

Damien could barely speak.

Every word he said was like a punch to his stomach.

Telling someone out loud and for the first time about his break-up with Craig made it all the well too real and Damien felt like he was finally facing the reality from which he was protected by his illusions that Craig would forgive him one day.

"So why Damien?"

Damien didn't give an answer to his best friend.

He hid by putting his face in his hands and closed his eyes.

He hadn't expected Nick to ask him such harsh questions.

Damien loved Craig more than anything and he had no doubts about that.

During their three-year relationship, Craig had been the dream boyfriend, and Damien's love for him had only grown over the years.

Yet despite this passionate love, Damien had fallen victim to his almost mystical sexual attraction to Alexander Nabokov, even going so far as to commit the irreparable.

So, could one say to love someone but cheat on them?

Damien was dying for an answer because he felt like he was totally contradicting himself.

The silence had lasted for a while with Damien who seemed unwilling to engage in his conversation with Nick by refusing to answer him.

Nick didn't insist since he didn't say a word but Damien knew he was still in the living room a few feet away from him without even seeing him.

He liked the fact that Nick wasn't rushing him and blasting him with questions.

It was the ringing of Damien's phone that broke the silence.

Very slowly, Damien pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and watched Dimitri's name appear on the screen.

He placed his phone, which continued to ring, on the table and hide again, covering his face with his hands.

Dimitri was probably calling to find out if Damien was on his way to Sam's supper.

By the time Damien had decided to be truthful with Nick, he knew he wouldn't be able to go to the supper anymore.

Not only was he going to be late but he wouldn't be in a good state of mind to celebrate anything.

He knew he should've told Dimitri the moment he knew he wouldn't be able to show up again but that was the least of his worries.

Now he didn't have the strength to talk which is why he let his phone ring and vibrate loudly on the table.

He could have rejected the call, but he didn't want Dimitri to find out that he had intentionally ignored him.

The ringing and vibration finally ceased, bringing back the silence that was then broken immediately after by Nick's voice.

"Hey Dimitri. It's Nick... yeah, um Damien isn't feeling too well. He won't be able to make it to the supper... no don't worry, everything's fine... yes... I'll tell him... okay... bye."

Without even seeing it, Damien realized that Nick had taken Dimitri's call.

He mentally thanked his best friend for the gesture because it was one less thing he didn't have to do though he knew he would have to explain himself to Dimitri and Samuel sooner or later.

"Damien." Nick gently put his hand on his best friend's shoulder.

Despite this affectionate gesture, Damien stayed in his bubble, his thoughts racing all over in his head.

"I’ll be out of your hair. When you're ready, call me, okay?"

Damien couldn't let Nick go.

He still hadn't told him the truth and Damien knew he had to do now without losing anymore time.

He had to.

Damien couldn't postpone it for later like some overdue dirty dishes that needed to be washed.

The more time he took at holding the truth, the less chance he had of being forgiven.

Yes, the truth had to be told.

Damien cleared his hands over his face and his eyes rested on Nick's back who was about to leave.

[obey-me-rot]

You're Mine

A/N: I guess as a writing blog I should be doing some writing right? Honestly this has just been the biggest headcanon I've had in a while since I started playing Obey Me of the brothers just...like Devildom culture must be so different! And then the whole pact thing with human masters must be so different as well! I just view them as big animals just wanting to get your attention u wu. Warnings: Jealous boys, public shows of dominance and a lot of biting.

It's almost painful being in the Devildom sometimes.

A cultural exchange program amped up to 100 %.

As much as you loved the brothers, you also were meeting some pretty cool demons in RAD. Surely you were the human student everyone was so excited to meet, but none of them really talked to you, you know? But there were some that were brave enough to overlook your pact marks and dive into a conversation.

Even some were bold enough to talk to you out of school!

Making so many friends was so exciting, especially since you still thought of yourself as new! Wait till the brothers see how many new demons you have met!

Problem is you forgot how weird demon culture is, especially when it has to do with a demon and their master.

"MC?"

Lucifer blinks as he notices the demon approaching the two of you, pausing your daily walk with him as confusion turns to familiarity and you run up to greet your friend.

The first thing he notices is how they are a low ranking demon, so there’s no need to be hyper aware of any sort of threat. In this instance he doesn’t need to look to make sure his pact mark is visible to the demon.

His mark was embedded right in your iris, so anyone could see whose protection you were under.

He smiles politely as you turn around to introduce them, the demon waving at him shyly as if remembering that, yes, this human made a pact with Lucifer and therefore should not be messed with in any way. Yet there was no sort of violent tendencies coming from this demon, which put him at somewhat of an ease.

That is, until the demon takes a hold of your hand.

It’s a simple touch, one that a human would mistaken for a sign of friendship and camaraderie. The demon was speaking excitedly about a new flower they had seen over at the Botanical gardens and how much they wanted to show it off to you.They tighten their hold and Lucifer has to dig his fingernails into his palm from ripping their hand off.

You had no idea what it meant and the action would most likely scare you.

And Lucifer wanted you to trust him as much as possible.

“Would it be okay if Lucifer comes along?”

“...y--yeah! I don’t mind!”

Hesitation mixed with fake happiness, this demon really thought that he would get some time alone with you, didn’t they? They probably planned this whole thing out and whatever excitement they were showing you was just a front to hide their true intentions. Besides, look how they are hanging off of you, they want to make a pact with you so badly it’s almost disgusting.

Might as well get rid of the pest now.

“Come on MC, I want to show you the huge petals--!”

“OW!”

You and the demon look back to see Lucifer biting down on one of your fingers, your ring finger to be exact, while making eye contact with the pest. His teeth are not necessarily breaking skin but the pain of the bite made all your attention go back on him, turning around to tug your finger away and cradle it close. “Lucifer what the hell!”

He smiles and tells you not to worry about it, your retort falling on deaf ears as Lucifer’s eyes fall on the demon one more time. Their eyes are wide and they have immediately taken two steps back, their back as straight as a needle as Lucifer sends them one last look that lets them know of his intentions.

Leave now or I will gut you in front of my human.

You turn to apologize to your friend for putting them in such a weird situation but the demon is already long gone, no sign of them ever being in your presence as you look around aimlessly.

“They left...” you frown and look at Lucifer, “Next time at least warn me.”

“If I did then you would have probably forbidden me from doing so.”

The Avatar of Pride smiles as he takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours as you kept talking about how you would apologize the next day. But Lucifer wasn’t listening, he just kept staring at you as you talked, happy that his master wasn’t particularly mad.

That demon would have to learn to get his own, this human was already his.

He had finally gotten you all to himself.

Mammon had a photoshoot today, making you tag along so he could finally show off his modeling skills. And it would help him out as well. The product they were trying to sell did not appeal to him one bit and he just really needed you as inspiration.

And inspiration did you give.

“Oh gorgeous Mammon gorgeous! Lean back and close your eyes.”

The cameraman was giving him compliment after compliment, excellent after excellent, it was as if all eyes were on him at that exact moment. He smiled as he thought about how you must be looking at him. His shirt was open, letting the cloth hang off the side of the couch as the camera focused primarily on the low riding jeans that showed off the boxers he was promoting.

“Perfect! Perfect!! Now turn around and stare into the camera!”

His eyes opened and his head turned expertly, Mammon smiling as he tried to make eye contact with you--

Only to see that you were gone.

Camera flashes stop as he bolts up, turning to look for you before his eyes focused on your form.

There you were...talking with someone else.

“Mammon?”

He doesn’t stare at the cameraman, only gets up and stalks towards you and the demon currently holding up the lights. Both of you turn to face him, a voice speaking loudly about a five minute break as Mammon stands behind you and hugs you from behind, placing his chin right on your shoulder as he looks at the interloper.

“Are you taking a break?”

Mammon smiles as he buries his face in your shoulder, hugging you tight as the demon tells him he did a wonderful job. Without raising his head, Mammon speaks up.

“MC, who is this?”

“Oh right! Haven’t introduced you. He is a friend from RAD! We sit together in Pactology 101.”

“Well we used to sit together...”

“We talked way too much in class, didn’t we?”

It’s like nails on a chalkboard when he laughs, Mammon feeling glad that he was closer to you so he could hear the sound of your laughter instead of the ugly screeching of the intruder taking up your attention. Did this guy think he was stupid? That he couldn’t notice all the goddamn pheromones he was releasing? Mammon shakes his head back and forth, breathing in your scent heavily as he tries to leave his own behind.

This guy was embarrassing himself with how badly he wanted to form a pact with you.

“MC.”

“Oh oh, remember when the teacher caught us texting in class?”

“I think he might want to just put us back together cause we are still causing trouble!”

The Avatar of Greed frowns, did you not hear him?

“MC…”

“Well the teacher knows we are a good match, doesn’t he?”

“A match made in hell, I would say.”

Why was this guy still talking? Why were you still listening to him?

“MC….”

“Hey after this...would you want to go get some coffee, MC? If you’re not busy.”

“Nah, I only have this toda---FUCK!”

A pair of teeth tug at your earlobe, Mammon growling in your ear as he makes eye contact with the annoyance in front of him. He should be counting his lucky stars that you were still in the room, if Mammon found him anywhere else this demon would be nothing more than a meal for his familiars.

“MC, you have to stare at me or else I’m going to take longer.”

You rub at your ear as Mammon lets go of you, breaking eye contact with the other demon as he gives you his signature pout. He didn’t want you to see him be all scary, Mammon wanted you to see him like the number one demon he always tried to be for you.

“And you had to bite me because of that!?”

“Because you weren’t paying attention! You have to keep your eyes on me or else I’m not going to sell this stupid product. In fact--”

He drags you back to the couch, yelling at the cameraman that he would be posing with you so he could actually get through this photoshoot instead of doing a solo shoot. The man sighs but calls makeup to get you ready, Mammon smiling as he sits down right next to you.

The farther you were from that guy the better, all of his master’s attention needed to be on him after all.

Of course something like this would happen. Bad luck seemed to follow Leviathan wherever he went.

"Did you see the finale of it live?"

"I did!!! My movie theatre put it on the big screen and everything!"

Levi was glad that you were a nerd just like him. It was refreshing and probably one of the biggest reasons he had decided to make a pact with you.

Well, he had tried to kill you first and then make a pact with you but it was still a special story! Who would have thought that he would land himself a human master with his own interests!

Though he guessed that was a bad thing now.

He couldn't keep his thoughts in check as the clerk of the comic store kept talking to you, Levi annoyed that he couldn't keep up with the conversation you two had. It was about some comic cinematic universe that had been adapted in the human world and he honestly didn’t want to put anymore thought into it because of how close the clerk was getting.

Dammit he should have bought the new manga volume in Akuzon...but you had been so cute irl asking him to get the manga in this comic store you found,and if his master was begging him so cutely then what else could he do?

“I actually got the limited edition of this one movie--”

Nobody cared.

“It was up for a lot in Akuzon but I’m glad I got my hands on it--”

Stop talking!

“And I have a pretty cool viewing set up in the back--!”

Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking, stop talking to MC!

Levi frowns as you gush about the movie some more, glaring down at you for letting your attention stray from him. But why should he be surprised, of course your attention would stray. Him being the yucky otaku that he is, of course you would go with the demon who took his interest and actually turned it into a profit--

No.

No! It wasn’t your fault! It wasn’t even his fault! It was this demon’s fault!

Thinking they looked so cool with their most basic of interests. If Levi could expose them for the fraud that they were, MC would be able to see the absolute fool that this demon was making themselves out to be. Smiling a lot more, inching closer as they talked, even offering to take you to the back of the store--!

People may say what they want about Levi but at least he wasn’t this desperate to get on the good side of a human...at least the first time he met you.

His eyes fall on the back of your neck, hair conveniently placed out of the way as he remembered something Lucifer had discussed with him and Mammon after they had made their pact.

You will not think rationally when you are with them, make sure to monitor your actions so you don’t embarrass yourself.

That’s what he said but…

Surely Levi wasn’t going to embarrass himself more than this demon already has.

“This is the one with the symbiote creature, right? And you got the bonus deleted scenes! Honestly I would be so down with watching it right--EEP!”

Levi made sure to let his tongue lick the back of your neck first before biting down, wanting to make the bite as painless as possible. Although he guessed that not making you feel pain was out of the question as he felt you tense up, his tongue swiping against your nape one last time as he pulled back and tugged on the back of your shirt.

“MC let’s go. They don’t have it.”

You turn to look at Levi, hand on the back of your neck as you tell him that he could have gotten your attention in any other way, but he knew for a fact that he had made his point across with the demon in front of him.

Summoning Lotan in his own home was one thing, summoning Lotan in a store would probably cost a lot…

Even if he knew brothers wouldn’t blame him with how nauseatingly this demon was trying to approach their master.

“MC, here.”

Satan breaks his pencil, but it seems the two other people don’t seem to notice.

“And it's the first edition too, but I took it out just for you.”

You smile and mention about how you didn’t need anything fancy for the assignment, just a simple book that talked about Devildom history. Which Satan agreed, this bug was acting like he owned the entire Royal Library. A pass to get a first edition title wasn’t that rare of a fucking find--if he wanted, Satan could call up any of his connections and get about 16 copies of different first edition titles that spoke not just about the Devildom history but about whatever the hell topic he could get his hands on.

This guy wasn’t that special yet he was acting like he had just given you the world on a silver platter.

The demon sat down at the table you and Satan were studying at, looking at you the entire time he explained how to open the book and how to make sure it stays in its pristine condition.

Which made Satan break another pencil.

From what you had mentioned, this guy was just someone you knew from RAD. You labeled him as the ‘smartest person in the class’. Which was a bit of an insult on his part but he guessed that as long as he wasn’t the one in your class it didn’t count as an insult towards his person.

He, of course, being the smartest demon you know.

But Satan didn’t have to be the smartest demon in RAD to know what this nuisance was doing.

If he were to read you any book on Devildom demonology, certain demons needed a human master. This insect in front of you would count as one of them. Lower demons usually tend to be without guidance and need a soul to feed from. In comes a human master, being able to fulfill that need with a pure soul of their own. The demon feeds and in return, develops a sort of ‘affection’ towards their master since they are now the hand that feeds them.

The same couldn’t be applied to Satan or his brothers, however. As the seven demon lords, they are able to gain the sustenance they need from the feed of other lower demons under the sin they were made in.

They are free to form pacts, but it’s not like they need it.

A good metaphor would be that they are essentially ‘picking off the plate’ of the lower demons, making the lower demons only cause minimal casualties up in the human world as they feed and keeping the seven lords from going feral with hunger.

Of course, things were different now. Satan had you now, a human all of his own.

Essentially, someone was trying to ‘take a bite’ of his favourite food, and Satan hated sharing.

Friends be damned, politeness be damned, he needed to show this demon his place.

“Isn’t it fascinating? The cover was made with a demon’s skin.”

“....really?”

“Yes. I believe it was from recently dead demon’s during the first Celestial War. Do you want to feel?”

You nod, curious about the black and shiny cover as the demon holds out his hand for you to take--

Only for you to yelp as Satan takes it first, dragging your hand back so it would be close to his lips as the Avatar of Wrath’s teeth bite at the skin near your wrist. You hiss in pain at the sudden sharpness, quickly pulling your hand back and staring at your demon as he gives the annoyance one last pointed stare.

“That is how demons started their pacts before we arrived in the Devildom, wasn’t it?”

The demon nodded slowly, his eyes darting to the mark on your wrist and then back at Satan. He opened his mouth to try and speak up but seemed to decide better against it, giving you one last smile as he stood up. “...I’ll...I’ll go get you the second volume. That one might include more accurate and updated information on pact markings.”

Satan smiles and nods as he scoots his chair close to you, looking back at you tracing the mark on your wrist with a frown before putting all your attention back on him.

“Did demons really used to form pact marks like this?”

The Avatar of Wrath shrugs.

“I was only guessing, he was the one who left thinking it was the truth. Here, let’s go look for a book on our own.”

Asmo would like to think that he had perfected the fake smile to the point he could keep it up for an indeterminate amount of time.

“MC! Try this!”

Yet the corners of his mouth twitched as he watched one of your friends, who happened to be a store clerk at Majolish, open the door to your dressing room to hand you another outfit they had picked out. And it wasn’t a bad outfit--!

Just...did they have to keep opening the door every single time?

Granted, he shouldn’t be in your dressing room in the first place but he insisted he would stay since you were only trying some shirts on! It wasn’t like he was seeing anything inappropriate and your pants were staying on the entire time.

This sight was okay for him because he was your demon and you were his master.

So it wasn’t right that some random nobody kept coming in to hand you shirts that they thought looked cute on you! That’s what you had Asmo for!

Yet here he was, secluded to sit down on the little chairs that someone would usually toss the unwanted clothes they wouldn’t buy. Which was already doing horrible things for his self-esteem.

“I learned a couple of things by working here. See? The color really matches your hair.”

The Avatar of Lust scoffs when he hears that. What exactly did the demon learn? How to match colors? Oh look, someone learned the basics of the color wheel, someone give them a medal.

“And since you are wearing something long at the bottom, it’s only fair that you go with something short on top.”

This demon is going to win an award for making basic observations, Asmo could already see it. What a future they had ahead of them.

“These colors are summery too so...it goes great with the weather!”

Oh he wants to gag, Asmo’s heard enough.

“You don’t think it’s too revealing? I do like the color though…”

Before the demon can answer, Asmo grabs your shoulders and pulls you back to him with a smile as he makes you look in the mirror.

“I think it’s revealing enough for the summer look you are going for...except can you maybe get it in a light pastel? Any color would do it just needs to be a pastel color if we want it to go with the light color of your bottoms.”

The demon deflates at the sudden lack of contact with you but nods as they step out, waving goodbye and stating once again how ‘gorgeous’ you looked. Which Asmo guessed was the only compliment they had in their arsenal.

Gorgeous didn’t even begin to describe you.

“I did like this color, Asmo. Does it not look good?”

“No it looks perfect on you! But--”

He tugs on the floral print top and smiles as he wraps his arms around your shoulders.

“Floral prints are extremely last season and I want you to be on a more neutral type of clothing. Just simple colors. This way we can add some jewelry--some of my own creation of course.”

Asmo smiles when you giggle, fixing your top and looking at yourself in the mirror a couple more times as you mumble to yourself about how Devildom summers seem rather temperate compared to the ones you were used to and how you wouldn’t need anything sleeveless.

Damn the Devildom summers, if they could even be called that at all.

His ears twitch as he hears the pest start to make their way back, Asmo’s smile dropping slowly as he looks down at your neck. This was the spot they kept staring at, wasn’t it? Shame it wasn’t decorated--

But he could fix that~ “I found some other colors that would go well with you MC, do you want to--”

“OW OW OW!”

Asmo’s teeth are right on your neck, turning to look back at the clerk with a smile and a little wave as he hums at the way you clench and unclench your fingers while looking at him through the mirror, wanting to ask just why he was doing this but the pain keeping you quiet. It was cute how much you were hurting but how you were doing absolutely nothing to stop him. This could technically mean that you approved of what he was doing, correct?

He lets go as the clerk immediately closes the door, you calling out for your friend but Asmo brings you back and makes you look at the mirror one more time.

“There we go. That’s a pretty mark, right MC? An Asmodeus Limited Edition item, just for you~”

If this kept happening, Beel was going to eat this demon.

“You need to try some Devildom food, MC! I promise it's good!”

Beel stomach growls again as you laugh, ignoring the parfait in front of you. He gives you a tap on the shoulder and your attention is right back to him. “Oh sorry, Beel. Here!” You scoop up the delicious frozen treat and feed it to him, Beel smiling as he takes another two bites of his hamburger and watches you and your friend talk. He actually had no idea that you had any friends in RAD and was happy to see that at least some demons were treating you nicely, compared to theo ones who had teased you when you first arrived.

Well he said teased, more like threatened to eat you.

He figured you would make friends fast though, you were nice and all the demons here were already attracted to human souls so it was bound to happen that one of them would have the courage to talk to you.

Yet this one seemed rather...eager.

“How about this. Hell’s Kitchen serves good food but I know this awesome corner in the wall place we can get some grilled bat sandwiches. Guts and everything.”

His stomach growls again, he knew of the place this demon was talking about and would most likely want to take you there himself if you ever asked.

Beel takes another two bites before waiting for you to feed him the parfait.

Nothing.

He frowns and stares at you again, the demon keeping your attention all to himself as you spoke about how you didn’t necessarily want to eat anything with guts in it. His eyes went to the parfait, watching some of the perfectly placed scoops slowly melt and droop down on the plate.

MC, pay attention to him!

This was his time with you! He didn’t mind if someone else stepped in and he was glad you were making friends but this demon was interrupting his mealtime!

He ate his burger, you fed him ice-cream, this is how it had always worked!

People could say what they wanted but Beel was a creature of habit, and he was in the habit of having you feed him.

Not just that, he was in the habit of having your attention all on him when it was his time to hang out with you.

Wasn’t this demon just being a bother? Didn’t you also want them gone?

They kept talking about all the stuff that clearly grossed you out, seemingly delighted with your reactions as they kept trying to egg you on to say yes to an outing. If it wasn’t for the fact that you were smiling the entire time, Beel would have already made the move to unhinging his jaw and--

“I promise I’ll treat you to the best ghost pepper pizza you’ve ever had. You’re free after this, right?”

Beel’s stomach growls, whether in hunger or anger Beel wouldn’t be able to say. All he knows is that this demon is bad news for both him and you.

So what would be the quickest way to make him back off?

“I’m not but I can take a raincheck--!”

You drop the spoon you were holding as Beel bites your cheek, throwing the demon one quick glimpse before letting out a few sounds that seemed to make up your name. The demon stares at you and Beel as the Avatar of Gluttony pulls away from you, licking his lips as you slowly put a hand on your cheek and turn to look at him.

“The parfait is gonna melt. I want another bite.”

“Beel…”

Eyes turn to the demon once again, Beel frowning as he takes a hold of your hand underneath the table.

“Please leave. If MC is going to eat Devildom food then they’ll eat it with me. The only thing you are going to do is gross them out.”

“So what did you want to talk about?”

Belphie frowned as your fingers gently played with his hair. That is not what he had asked for when he asked to lay on your lap. Belphegor wanted the usual way you would comb through his hair, both of you gently whispering to each other as the planetarium ambience lulled him to sleep.

“Well...uhm...I wanted to ask something important.”

And who the hell was this person? He peeked up to look at you smiling at the screen, frowning that you still didn’t seem to notice you were doing a shit job at giving him the attention he needed. Whoever this was had been on the line with you for a good solid ten minutes, talking about useless subjects such as their day and what they had for lunch. If anything, Belphegor had no idea how this thing was taking your attention. You were doing most of the talking anyway, they should just hang up and leave you alone to pay attention to your demon.

“We’ve known each other for a while.”

Belphegor most likely knew MC for longer...maybe.

“And honestly I haven’t met a human like you before. You just...I just expected humans to be something and you aren’t that so it threw me off.”

The Avatar of Sloth yawns as he buries his head in your lap, smiling at the darkness he found in the small crook of your thighs. He yawns again and closes his eyes to try and fall asleep but the grating voice of the demon on the phone was sending nothing but warning signals to his brain.

“So I wanted to ask something I didn’t think I would ask a human before.”

He really wanted to yell ‘get to the point’ or ‘hang up the phone’ but he knew that you would most likely shush him and tell him to be patient, which would then result in you gently pushing him away so you could talk somewhere more private. And he wasn’t ready to lose his favourite pillow just yet.

So he continued listening, tracing random shapes on your thighs as he felt his eyelids start to droop.

“I know you have seven pacts already…”

Damn straight.

“But would an eight be too much for you?”

That wakes Belphegor right up, eyes wide open and head turned to face up at you to see your reaction. Of course you would be surprised, this demon really had the guts to ask the current master of the Seven deadliest demons in the Devildom for a pact?

You better be grateful that Belphegor found comfort in your lap and would prefer to stay here, rather than go break the neck of the demon insolent enough to try to take his master away.

So go ahead, reject him.

“A pact? With me?”

What were you doing?

Don’t give him such a hopeful answer! Belphegor had to share you with six other demons constantly and those demons were his siblings! He was okay sharing with Beel but he drew the line at anyone else! Adding an eighth demon to that would be like asking for a bloodbath, a bloodbath with only one target.

Belphegor frowned as the demon started talking again, stuttering and jumping over his words like he was a dog who asked to eat their masters table. Which essentially he was, not like there was room for him anyway.

“I know I’m not like those brothers--”

Damn straight.

“But making a pact with you would make me really happy...is what I am trying to say.”

He wants to gag.

A part of him couldn’t blame the demon, you were perhaps the best master a demon could ask for, but you were already t a k e n.

And you were to blame too, you know?

You weren’t rejecting him like you should. The face you were making was far too surprised and flattered at the proposition given to you. Were you that greedy? Had Mammon rubbed off on you? You had seven of the most powerful demons under your command, what more could you possibly want?

As a master, you were doing a bad job at rejecting this insect and an even more horrible job at not paying attention to the actual demon you were tied to.

He turns his head back to the darkness of your thighs, feeling you shift as you also struggle to find an answer. This was becoming too much, if Belphegor didn’t act fast you were most likely going to say yes, just because you didn’t know any better!

Fuck it, you could try to push him off but Belphegor would hold on tightly, he had to save you from your mistake.

“Uhm. Well that is honestly really flattering. And eight pacts wouldn’t be so bad--”

You slap a hand over your mouth, your teeth biting into your tongue as you look down at the demon nipping at the inside of your thigh. Belphie looks up innocently, batting his eyelashes at you as he bites down a little harder--

“I’ll-try-to-have-an-answer-for-you-later-got-to-go-bye!”

Fingers hurry to end the call as Belphegor quickly lets go, smiling as you gape down at him.

“I was in the middle of a call!”

“I know.”

“Then what was that about!?”

The Avatar of Sloth shrugs as he closes his eyes.

“You weren’t paying attention to me. It made me mad.”

You sigh and lean back, Belphegor waiting for a few moments before smiling as he feels your fingers combing through his hair.

“Next time,just talk to me, Belphegor.”

He would have answered, but that would make him promise something he most likely was not going to do.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

[dfdph]

That Time

3. That time I realized it was over

Author D.

Pairing Jungkook x Reader (female)

Genre Slice of Life AU | Angst

 Word count 2.6k

A/N This drabble collection will not be posted in chronological order.

©️ dfdph, 2022 - All rights reserved. Reposting or translating onto other sites is NOT allowed.

          When the alarm went off at exactly 7.00 o’clock Jungkook was already awake. He let it ring for a couple of seconds, listening to the annoying and acute sound before turning it off. He turned his head towards the window: the curtains were slightly open to let a few rays of sunshine enter the room.

           It was a habit of hers. She couldn’t sleep in total darkness.

           It looked like a beautiful summer day with the sky of a light blue and the sun slowly rising. If he concentrated a bit, he could hear some birds chirping good morning.

           He got up with a sigh and walked towards the bathroom. He emptied his bladder, rinsed his hands and washed his face. He looked at his reflection on the mirror: his facial hair was getting longer, it had now reached the point where it was more than a shadow over his chin.

           He didn’t mind. She always wanted to see him with a beard.

           He went back to his room to dress up: a simple dark suit and a white shirt. He put his nose to the collar, sniffed it a bit and frowned. It was clean, but smelled oddly different.

           His breakfast was just as simple: a cup of caffé latte and a slice of toasted bread with butter. He ate quickly and silently, casually scrolling through his Instagram home feed without really paying attention. He then washed the few dishes, carefully placing his clean navy blue mug next to her ruby red one.

           By 7.30 he was ready to leave the apartment.

           In less than twenty minutes he was at his office building’s underground parking lot, locking his car and walking upstairs towards the entrance hall. The elevator ride to the nineth floor was silent and lonely because, just like every morning, he was one of the firsts to arrive.

           His office was one of the biggest on the floor: one of the perks of being a partner of a big law firm. It was a position he achieved not too long ago, one of the very few good things that happened to him the past month.

           “Good morning, Mark.” He smiled at his long time secretary.

           “Good morning to you.” The guy called back standing up from his desk, papers already in his hands. “Busy day today.”

           Jungkook sighed. “Always is.”

           “First things first, Mr. Lee Jr wants to see you in half an hour. He personally came to my cubicle to ask for you just a few minutes ago.” They both rolled their eyes: a meeting with the boss’s son and wannabe president was often a waste of precious time. “At nine you have a meeting with the Kims for the merge case. Everything is ready, they just have to sign the last paper and we are ready to go. At 10.30 …”

           Mark continued to talk, but Jungkook wasn’t listening anymore. He sat down on his very comfortable faux leather seat, turned his back to the man and faced the full-length windows looking over the city. The view was objectively beautiful, one of the main reasons why he worked his ass off to get the promotion – besides the pay raise, of course – , but for some reason it didn’t bring joy to his heart as he thought it should have.

           “Oh, and J.” his secretary called him with the familiar nickname, grabbing Jungkook’s attention. “Jimin called me this morning, he said he tried to reach you all evening yesterday but you never answered.”

           Jungkook closed his eyes and sighed, trying to ignore the worried tone the man was unsuccessfully trying to hide. “Yeah, had a bit of stuff to do.” He replied vaguely.

           “He said he is picking you up at six for a drink and I quote: he’ll kick your ass if you don’t show up.”

           Jungkook smiled lightly. “Guess I have no choice then.”

           His day at work went slowly and uneventfully, but before Jungkook knew it, it was already time to go clock out and meet with his best friend, Jimin. A part of him – the same part that ignored his calls the day before – was dreading this moment. Despite the love he had for the boy, he was clearly the last person he wanted to see. He already knew what was going to happen, Jimin was so predictable.

           More than a month had passed since the day him and Y/N broke up. Or more exactly the day she stormed out of their apartment crying and he didn’t make a move to stop her.

           It was easy at first: the anger giving him energy and distracting him from the real thing, clouding his vision. He was angry at her for all the things she had said that night and all the nights before that; for the way she didn’t give him room to talk, just like she always did when they spoke about serious stuff. He was angry at her for running away, for the words she said while doing so. They sounded so childish back then, but now … Now they were the most painful memory Jungkook had.

           It didn’t take long for the sensation of loss to replace the anger. He felt lost without her. She was everywhere even if she wasn’t physically there.

           She was in every single object in their once shared apartment: in the red mug next to his, in the embroidered initials on their towel sets, in the dying orchids in the living room. She was in all of his habits: in the way he slept with the curtains open or in the way he only had bread with butter for breakfast now because she was the one who cooked him bacon and eggs.

           He never realized how everything in his life was so deeply linked to her and how at loss he felt alone in the heavy silence of their bedroom, the sheets smelling different than they used to.

           When he slept it was on the right side of the bed because the left was hers, when he woke up in the morning it was because of the white digital clock she bought at Ikea, when he drove to work it was in the car they chose together. When he looked up from his computer in his office it was to look at photographs of her and them together over the years, and when he unlocked his phone it was to see the picture he took of her smile.

           He had thought about calling her more than once, even more than he cared to admit. But some force always prevented him to do so. Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was just stupidity.

           So the last person he wanted to see today was indeed his best friend Jimin – bubbly, caring, loving Jimin, who knew him way too well, even better than himself. He knew that he was out in a mission: make him admit his feelings, whether good or bad, because he was not a fan of bottling things up. And he was probably going to make him question all of his life choices – more than he was already doing.

           The thirty second elevator ride down to the entrance hall was dreadful as Jungkook battled between running away and the guilt of thinking to do so. Thirty seconds was too short anyways to take a decision, because before he knew it the doors opened and there he was, face to face with Jimin. As if he knew what he was thinking – and he probably did – the boy had waited in front of the elevator, giving him no chance to escape.

           “Gotcha!” he exclaimed, arms crossed over his chest, a sly smile curving his lips.

           Jungkook couldn’t but sigh in defeat.

           “I still don’t understand why you are giving up.” Jimin was saying looking at his friend as he sulkily played with the almost empty glass of whiskey. Of course, he was not one to waste his time and poke around things. “I mean, we are here at six thirty getting drunk with expensive whisky. Clearly, there’s something wrong.”

           Jungkook sighed once again. “I know.”

           “Do you love her?” Jimin asked carefully.

           The other froze. It was the question he dreaded the most. He couldn’t answer.

           “I know you do.” Jimin smiled sadly. “It’s as clear as day.”

           “Is it really?” Jungkook asked quietly, finally finding the courage to voice his fears. “Do I really love her? What if it was only … habit?”

           “Don’t be ridiculous. It was not habit and you know it.”

           “No, I don’t.” Jungkook insisted with furrowed brows. “We … didn’t know.”

           There was a pause as Jimin collected his thoughts. “Is that the reason why you broke up?”

            “One of the, I guess.” Jungkook shrugged.

           “What was it then?”

           “I don’t know …” The man whispered. “We’ve been fighting a lot for … for a lot of things. And … at one point I just didn’t have the energy to fight her anymore.” It was scary admitting these things out loud, but it was a relief as well. Jungkook knew deep down he needed this. “And that night it was the last straw … so when she left … I let her go.”

           Jimin took a sip of his drink, measuring up his next words. “And don’t you regret it?”

           “I don’t know.” Jungkook answered sincerely. “I wasn’t lying when saying I’m not sure it was love anymore. It’s just … we’ve been together for so long, we grew up together, lived through so much together … but what if we care so much about each other and because of it we can’t see that it’s just that … care, care and not love.” As he shared his thoughts Jungkook felt the heavy burden on his heart being slightly lifted and the sensation was so pleasurable that he wanted more. So he kept talking. “There were days that I didn’t want to see her.” He confessed. “There were times that I didn’t want to hear her voice. It’s just that it has been really stressful at work and it is not an excuse, I know that, but the fact that after a hard day the least I wanted to see was my girlfriend made me think.”

           Jimin looked at his friend as if he was some stranger. Nothing of what he had said made sense to him. Being great friends with both Jungkook and Y/N he thought he knew everything about them. If someone asked him a month ago if he believed in true love he would have answered yes and he would have given them as an example. Jungkook who didn’t love Y/N? That was bullshit.

           “And now? Now that you don’t see her anymore … don’t you miss her?”

           Jungkook sat in silence, the heavy burden back with all its weight on his chest. Of course he did. He nodded. “But what if-”

           “What if what?” Jimin interrupted him. “What if it was the habit?” Jungkook nodded. “I don’t believe that. I can’t believe that.” Jimin shook his head. “It’s true that I didn’t have a single idea that something wrong was going on between you two, but I saw the way you looked at each other, for years, even when the other wasn’t looking and that … that is definitely not habit.” He exclaimed.

           Jungkook looked up at the ceiling, thinking about his words. The times he had asked himself that same question were uncountable, before but especially after she left that evening a month ago. He also asked himself why didn’t he stopped her when she left, why didn’t he fight for her and why he still doesn’t. If he really did love her, if it really was true love, then why doesn’t he leave that bar right at that moment and run to her and beg her to be with him once again?

           The answer, as it often happens in situations like these, was right in front of his eyes.

           For a second, a part of him thought it funny how destiny – or whatever – seemed to have been listening to their conversation, because there was no reason whatsoever for him to see Y/N again, in that bar randomly chosen by Jimin, after over a month nonetheless.

           The moment after felt like someone had stabbed his right arm, not deadly but painful enough that he wished it was. He thought that hearing her say she hated him as she left him was the worst memory he could ever have, but he was wrong.

           It was this. It was watching her laugh with tears in her eyes, a hand on her stomach and the other on some man’s bicep.

           He wanted to look away but it was as if he was frozen. He really didn’t want to see any of it but not a single muscle in his body moved. And so he watched. He watched as the unknown man laughed as well and leaned towards her, as she didn’t shy away from his vicinity and as he put a hand on her left knee. She had her hair cut, way shorter than she usually did, and wore a summer dress unfamiliar to him which, for some reason, added fuel to the pain he was already feeling.

           Maybe it was because he always liked her in dresses or maybe because she wasn’t wearing it for him but for someone else. Or maybe it was because he couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed like that with him.

           When was the last time he made her laugh? When was the last time they were happy together?

           And all of a sudden he unfroze: before he knew it he was standing up, startling Jimin who had just caught glimpse of the same scene, and running out of the bar and around the corner of the building. He leaned against the wall, a hand over his chest. He was hyperventilating, his eyes were blurry – maybe for the lack of oxygen or for the tears that he could feel forming in his eyes.

           “Oh my God, Jungkook!” Jimin, who caught up with him, exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

           The man violently shook his head, blindly looking for him with a hand. Jimin readily grabbed it before giving him a tight hug, trying to calm him down.

           “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.” The boy sang trying to not tumble under the weight of his semi-conscious friend. “It’s okay.”

           For the first time since he could remember, Jungkook cried. He cried like he never had before, violent sobs shaking his body and pained whimpers coming out of his lips.

And as he felt him clinging onto his back, Jimin couldn’t help but tear up as well, because he never saw his friend like this. It was as if someone had died.

And in a way maybe it did. Because what Jungkook was feeling wasn’t simple jealousy, it was loss: loss of someone who had been such a crucial part of his existence, of something – he was just now realizing – he took for granted.

The past month he had been living in denial, he could clearly see it now. And as he wasted time asking himself stupid and unnecessary questions, Y/N seemed to have found her answers.

           The conclusion was simple. “It’s over.”

[willowcrowned]

This scene idea from @obiwanobi‘s disaster sith AU has been stuck in my head for days. Apparently I have zero self control, because it’s now past midnight and I’ve written the whole thing.

“Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan shifts minutely at his desk, the only indication that he’d heard Anakin at all. He frowns slightly, scrolling down on one datapad, then types something on another.

“Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan shifts again, absently pushing a bit of hair out of his eyes from where it’s fallen. The late afternoon light slants across his face, illuminating his golden irises and the faint crease next to his mouth.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin tries for a third time.

Obi-Wan sighs. “Yes, Anakin?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, dear.”

Anakin slumps back in his seat, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at Obi-Wan, waiting for the inevitable moment when he looks up and gives Anakin a distracted smile. Obi-Wan doesn’t look up, and Anakin frowns. Obi-Wan hasn’t looked at him all afternoon. Something is definitely wrong.

“Was it something I did?” Anakin asks.

Obi-Wan’s gaze flicks up towards him for half a second. Excellent. Anakin is already making progress.

“Was it something I... didn’t do?”

“Not everything has to do with you,” Obi-Wan replies, just detached enough that Anakin knows he’s faking.

“That wasn’t a no.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t reply.

“Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan very deliberately looks down at his datapad, and it’s really a shame that he isn’t telling Anakin anything, because with the way the light is coming through the window, turning his hair into a glowing halo of red-gold, long lashes casting their shadows over his honey-colored eyes, Anakin would really like to— but no. He’s on a mission. He has an objective. He will get Obi-Wan to talk, and then he’ll show Obi-Wan how it pays to talk about his problems, because then Anakin doesn’t have to spend time dragging answers out of Obi-Wan that they could be spending in much better ways.

“Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan sets his datapad down with what Anakin thinks is rather more force than necessary. “Yes, Anakin?”

“What did I do wrong?”

“You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Anakin huffs. “So what did I not do that was wrong?” He can already see Obi-Wan opening his mouth to protest that statement too, so he continues. “I know I did something— yes, I do know, shut up. You’re not that good a liar.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Anakin raises his eyebrows.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Sure.”

Obi-Wan raises his eyes skyward for a half second before inclining his head, indicating that Anakin should continue.

“Anyways,” Anakin says, staring Obi-Wan down, “just tell me what it is, and I’ll stop bothering you.” Or, he thinks, start bothering you in much nicer ways.

Obi-Wan pinches the bridge of his nose, something that absolutely should not be as hot as it is. “If I tell you, you’ll stop bothering me?”

Anakin nods.

“Do you promise?”

Anakin nods again.

Obi-Wan lets out a long sigh. “It’s just— Anakin, I’m a bit worried that you’re not actually trying to kill me.”

Oh. Oh. Oh shit.

“Why—” Anakin’s voice jumps up a pitch. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, there was that whole affair with the sabotaged speeder, and you had the perfect opportunity to just let me crash, but instead you risked your life to pull me out. And before that, there was the bounty that you could have at least tried to let that mandalorian collect. Not to mention the fact that you haven’t even touched the neurotoxin you’ve been keeping in our bathroom.”

“I, just, uh,” Anakin says, resisting the urge to do something stupid like jump out a window, or something stupider, like try to distract Obi-Wan by breaking a datapad, “I— I’m not finished learning from you yet! It wouldn’t be very prudent of me to kill you before you’ve taught me everything.”

A confused crease forms between Obi-Wan’s brows. “Anakin, I thought we’d gone over this. You’ve long surpassed anything I could teach you. You have all the power of a true lord of the Sith.”

Anakin blinks, grasping for a retort. This is bad. This is really, really, really bad.

Obi-Wan’s look fades into one of understanding, then despondence. “You really aren’t trying to kill me.”

“No! It’s not that! It’s—”

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, resigned. “This is my fault. If I had taught you as a true Sith should have, this would never have happened.”

“What? No! Obi-Wan, this isn’t your fault!” Anakin huffs. “You were right to teach me the way you did— can you imagine how unstable I’d be if you’d put me through any of the traditional training? It’s my fault! I get attached too easily! Just look at Ahsoka! She’s a great apprentice, and it’s not like I’m training her in the traditional way!”

Obi-Wan blinks. “Ahsoka isn’t your apprentice. She’s our daughter.”

Anakin gapes, mouth wide open. “She’s our daughter? Since when?”

“Since we found her?” Obi-Wan looks at him with astonishment. “You’ve been training her? As an apprentice?”

“I’m too young to be a dad!” Anakin’s eyes are wide as he runs his fingers through his hair repeatedly. “I don’t know anything about parenting.” He freezes. “She hasn’t been eating vegetables! Shouldn’t I have been making her eat vegetables?!”

“She’s a carnivore, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says slowly, as though he can’t believe he’s having this conversation. “She doesn’t need to eat vegetables.” He shakes his head as if to clear it. “You’ve been training her? As an apprentice?”

“Oh, yeah,” Anakin replies, momentarily distracted. “She’s great at it, too. Except for the murdering me part. We’ve already decided that I’ll just fake my death if she needs the street cred.” He frowns. “Maybe it’s a good thing she’s our daughter and not my apprentice. Two apprentices in a row not killing their masters wouldn’t look very good, would it?”

“No,” Obi-Wan says faintly. “No it would not.” He sighs. “You really haven’t been trying to kill me?”

“I can’t kill you,” Anakin says, trying not to pout. “I love you.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replies, looking at Anakin with his strange mix of amusement and fondness. “Yes, I know.”

“You’re not... angry?”

Obi-Wan sighs, and gives Anakin a small, rueful, smile. “No, I’m not angry. A little disappointed, to be sure, but not angry. Never angry.”

Anakin can’t stop the wave of relief that rushes through him. He hadn’t thought Obi-Wan would kill him for the betrayal and take a new apprentice— not really. But still, he’d been dreading the inevitable cold gaze, the disappointment, the confirmation of what he’s always known: that he’s never going to be a good enough apprentice.

Obi-Wan gives him a half-fond, half-exasperated look, like he knows what Anakin is thinking. “Come over here.”

“I thought you were busy,” Anakin teases automatically, already standing up.

“I think,” Obi-Wan replies, leaving his chair and pulling Anakin close, “that given the circumstances, I can put the work off.”

“And what circumstances would those be?” Anakin asks, grinning, so close he can see the reflection of his own amber eyes, in Obi-Wan’s golden ones.

“It seems,” Obi-Wan says, “that I have an apprentice to promote, and a millennium worth of tradition to overthrow.”

“Oh,” Anakin breathes, “really?”

“Well, I’m certainly not keeping you as my apprentice forever.” Obi-Wan grins. “Terribly inefficient, if we’re going to start calling our daughter ‘Apprentice’ as well.”

Anakin smiles in wonderment. 

Obi-Wan brings up his hand to caress Anakin’s cheek. “I name you, Anakin Skywalker, a true Master of the Sith. May we reign as one.”

“May we reign as one,” he repeats, and Anakin Skywalker, Master of the Sith, leans in, and seals it with a kiss.

[whisperlullaby]

Friend Date

Pairing: Protective!Bucky x Reader

Word count: 1255

Summary: Bucky tries to convince you that someone asked you on a date. Not believing they would ask you out, you go on your friend date.

Warnings: Aggression, adult themes (?), drinking/alcohol consumption.

A/N: This came about because of a conversation I had with @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ about my own experience not recognizing when someone asked me on a date. A special thank to @river-soul​ who always reads my stories before I post them. As always if I missed any warnings please let me know!

“Bucky will you calm down, it's not a date.” 

You fluttered around your apartment collecting your keys and jacket while Bucky stood by the door, still as a statue. 

“Ben has been making eyes at you for weeks now doll, he thinks it’s a date,” Bucky stated, tilting his chin up as if to make a point.

You stopped in front of him and crossed your arms.

“Ben has been a friend throughout the recruitment process. He’s just taking me out to celebrate my promotion to field agent. You yourself suggested going out to celebrate the accomplishment so I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Bucky raked his hand down his face and sighed. 

“Yeah I meant I would take you out to celebrate your promotion, not that you should go out with the first guy who asked!”

You blinked at Bucky for a moment. He seemed frustrated and a slow smile started spreading across your face as you dropped your hands to your hips. 

“You’re jealous!” 

Bucky huffed at your exclamation.

 “Jealous? Me? Doll I’ve seen Ben during training and in the showers. I have nothing to be jealous of, trust me.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. He was being so cute you almost called Ben to cancel so Bucky would stop pouting. He glared at you when you snorted which only made you laugh more.

“Bucky I swear Ben is just a friend. I have my sights set on someone a little more pouty and brooding anyway.” You caught the slight look of shock in Bucky’s eyes before you continued. “We’re just going to the bar down the street and I’ll text you when I get home and you can take me out tomorrow night, okay?”

“Doll, he’s taking you on a date. If he tries any funny business I’ll break his arm,” Bucky warned with chilling sincerity. 

You looked at him and smiled.

“It’s a friend date. Ben is like a brother to me; it would be too weird to date him.” 

Bucky couldn’t help but take his turn laughing. He heard Ben in the locker room before you got to the gym to train. Ben wanted you, bad. You had absolutely no idea what he felt for you and all Bucky could do was shake his head and laugh. However this ended, it would be a great story. 

“Well you just keep on laughing Buck. I’m going to go to my ‘not a date’ to celebrate my promotion. You have a key so make sure you lock up before you leave.” 

You gave Bucky a quick peck on the cheek and made your exit. 

As you approached the bar you saw Ben waiting outside for you.

 “Hey Ben! I hope you haven’t been waiting long. I got held up at home.”

Ben smiled at you. Eyes looking you up and down.

“You look great. I already paid the cover charge so we can head on in.”

You looked up at Ben and chuckled. He was just such a thoughtful friend. 

“Aw that’s so nice Ben, thanks! First rounds on me then.” 

You and Ben walked through the door and made your way over to the bar. You ordered your usual drink of choice and Ben got a beer. He handed the bartender his card before you had a chance to get your wallet out.

“Here ya go can you start a tab?” 

The bartender took Ben’s card and ran it through. You sighed and raised your eyebrow.

 “Ben I told you the first round was on me you didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweets. I told you I was taking you out to celebrate your promotion and I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I let you pay for your own drinks,” Ben said with a sly smile.

You shrugged as the bartender came back with your drinks. You made your way over to a table near the back of the bar and fell into an easy conversation with Ben. After a few more drinks you spotted the pinball machine in the corner and got up to play it.

“Okay Ben, you take the right paddle, I’ll take the left one, and with our combined training in stealth combat and target practice we’ll get the new high score.” 

You and Ben, though drunk, managed to get the new high score for the game. You threw your hands up in a cheer as you felt Ben’s arm circle your waist. You brought your hands down and clapped them together as his hand tightened on your waist. You looked over at Ben as he started to lean down towards your face. You were confused by his actions so you took a step back and held up your hand. 

“Yeah! Great job high five!” 

Ben opened his half closed eyes and looked at your hand for a second before removing his arm from your waist and giving you a high five. You turned to walk back to the table when Ben grabbed your arm.

“Sweets, I was kind of hoping for a victory kiss back there?” Ben mumbled, pulling you into him.

You huffed out a laugh. 

“Um why would you get a victory kiss Ben? We’re just friends.”

Ben looked at you, his eyes suddenly flashing with anger as his grip on your arm tightened. 

“I don’t ask just friends on dates.”

Your mouth dropped open. Bucky was right. Ben asked you on a date and you had absolutely no idea.

“Ben, you need to let go of my arm you’re hurting me.” 

You flinched as his grip only tightened. You were starting to panic, you never expected this from Ben and in a bar full of people you couldn’t exactly lay him out on the ground with a killer left hook. As luck would have it you never had to make a decision. Bucky came out of nowhere and placed his metal arm on Ben's shoulder to the point you heard a popping noise. Ben screamed and dropped your arm.

“Hey there Benny boy, I believe the lady told you to let go. It doesn’t seem like a very friendly thing to do, not listening when a woman speaks, don't you think?” Bucky’s voice was laced with a cool venom that sent shivers up your spine.

Ben looked back at Bucky, eyes wide in fear. Bucky let go of Ben’s shoulder and he ran out of the bar leaving dust in his wake. You turned to Bucky with tears in your eyes and he pulled you in for a gentle hug.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying. I just didn’t expect Ben to do something like that, and you were right. He thought this was a date.”

 You snuggled closer into Bucky craving his touch and warmth.

“I know doll he wasn’t enough of a man to ask you on a date straight out. I know you were just confused.” 

Bucky was rubbing small circles at the small of your back to relax you. You were infinitely grateful he didn’t say I told you so.

“Bucky, did you follow me to the bar tonight?” You asked, pulling back to look at his face.

Bucky held you close and whispered in your ear, “I had to make sure Benny boy didn’t try anything funny with my girl.”

Your eyes snapped to meet his and you smiled wide.

 “Oh, is this how a man asks a woman out?”

“It is, ” Bucky agreed with a grin.

[blackbat05]

I need a break

Shangqi x Reader (Platonic) 

A/N: I feel like I’m loosing steam towards the end of my placement and wow I have never needed a break this badly before. Perhaps a short Shangqi x Reader imagine where they are both University students. Seriously at this rate I’ll just be solely a Shangqi writer HAHAHA. Doing this on my phone because I don’t want to open my work computer. Let’s see where this impromptu idea takes me to. Hope you enjoy it and as always like and comment if you wish!

Genre: PG-13

Warnings: None really, just friends supporting each other! I guess there’s an inaccurate timeline if you look at the MCU but hey this is an imagine plus if you look at some of the wiki pages, Shangqi is actually born in 1998/1999. So appreciate if you’re kind enough to go with the flow to read this comfort fic! 

‘Y/N!’ Shangqi rushes to catch up with you after class. You made an effort to conceal your tiredness but he saw it right through. ‘Gosh…you alright?’

You think to yourself. Were you really alright? The answer was pretty obvious. You were ten weeks into your placement and your emotions were a jumbled up mess. Having to deal with work responsibilities was one problem, school assignments were another issue all together. At this point, you felt like you were just getting through each week for the sake of it.

At first, you believed that what you were going through was simply a transition to becoming an adult. You thought that naturally, you would be able to persevere through the stressful periods by yourself. But of course, it has been hard.

You were a social work intern at a neighborhood youth centre, thirty minutes away if you took the train and bus. The work was fulfilling in it’s own ways, but recently there were self-doubts filling your brain, if you were really cut out for the job in the future. If you weren’t, what else could you do?

As you sat with Shangqi in the school’s student-ran cafe, you found yourself pouring out the exact same concerns to him. Credit to him, Shangqi never interrupted your monologue, he just simply listened. That’s what best friends were for. That’s what you did for him to when he ran into issues with his family.

Even then, he couldn’t deny that hearing you doubt yourself broke his heart. He had known you since high school. You mostly kept to yourself and one or two close friends. Despite joining the school’s athletic team where you were one of the main athletes, you preferred to stay in the shadows unlike some of your teammates. That didn’t stop you from going out of your way to help other students in need; like helping the girl who was in an arm cast to copy the social studies notes, even if it meant you had to do it twice. Or maybe just talking to a friend who was stressed out about their results.

Basically, you had studied your ass off to get a secured spot at this university who were only one of the few that offered the degree. He remembers you telling him the moment you got your offer, ‘I’m finally good at something. I don’t have to worry anymore!’

Shangqi wasn’t stupid. The pandemic had done some crazy things. And by crazy, it affected the self-esteem that you had been working so hard on by participating in various projects and events, with you being in charge of a drama production that was promoting on mental health. That was a big deal considering that you were a major introvert.

Online engagement was never easy. In fact he has heard some of your struggles that you’ve shared with him regarding this and it only makes him admire you even more. For someone who preferred to keep to themselves, stepping out of one’s comfort zone, to take on a role that wasn’t just simply about helping people - that took guts.

‘I’m sorry I’m just loading you with all this. I just feel…’ You trailed off, suddenly becoming emotional again. Again, Shangqi does not pry. ‘That I can’t do anything right.’ You emphasize that you had ended the statement for you were unsure that you could keep your cool if you had tried to continue on.

‘If I hear you saying sorry another time,’ he chides, ‘you’re paying for our meal later.’ Your lips curved upwards slightly before returning to its somber position. Shangqi decides that a meal won’t cut it. He needs to deploy ‘Operation Y/N’. Standing up with your buzzer to collect the food, Shangqi whips out his phone. There will be a few changes for today.

Food was definitely a cure in this situation, but it was only a part of the solution. After inhaling your ramen at light speed, Shangqi tells you that today will be a different Friday. ‘And you can’t complain! It’ll be a weekend tmr,’ he tells you. So why not? You figured that even if you went back home early, your head wouldn’t be in the right place to complete the essay for your English module.

‘Hold up! The VR studio that Katy was talking about?’ You look at the tickets inside the taxi that was taking you and Shangqi to the location. ‘How did you even, it was so hard to get these tickets!’ From the time Shangqi met you outside the classroom, he had yet to see you so ecstatic. Until now.

‘Well,’ Shangqi gives his best shrug. ‘I called in a favor from a friend. Said that it was for emergency purposes.’ He raised his fingers to make connotations in the air much to your amusement.

‘Wow… just how much do I not know about you Mr Popular?’ You teased. Shangqi decides to leave the fact on him having to persuade the Wakandan Princess in giving him free tickets.

‘Please! I swear whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it! It’s for Y/N!’

‘Ey well why didn’t you say so? If it’s for that nice friend, of course!’ Shuri leaves the entrance of the compound, an exasperated Shangqi trailing behind.

Yeah, the VR studio that Katy told them about was also funded by King T’Challa himself. With stunning life like visuals thanks to Wakandan technology, the VR studio was located in a middle class neighborhood. T’Challa believed that no matter where kids came from, they should have the right to enjoy and to explore the world. For now, he wasn’t ready to share that he was on the way on becoming a full-fledged Avenger yet - you just had too much on your plate. He’ll just have to settle with this white lie.

‘Is Katy coming?’ You were on the verge of vibrating off your seat. ‘She would love this place!’ Even when you were struggling, Y/N still manages to think about other people. Today, Y/N will put her needs first.

As if to answer your previous question, you can see an equally excited Katy waiting for the two of you at the roundabout. ‘HEL-LO EVERYONE! LET’S GET OUR FRIDAY STARTED IN PROPER SHALL WE?’ Her loud voice had attracted stares, some very displeased looks too but at this point in time, you didn’t give a damn. Katy was right, it was time to enjoy!

You wished that you could slow down time, or even replay it continuously when you needed cheering up because the only thing you felt was pure happiness - euphoria even. Your stomach was in knots for laughing hysterically together with Katy when Shangqi jumped in shock from a surprise scare from a zombie. ‘I’m keeping that for leverage,’ she tells you, quietly slipping her phone into her fanny pack. 

The Wakandans had really outdone themselves this time. Your favorite VR was the paradise VR. Slipping the headgear, you say goodbye to the smiles of Katy and Shangqi, whisking away to a beach that oddly reminded you of your dream destination - Hawaii. From where you were standing, you were surrounded by green and majestic islands. Despite their sheer size, you weren’t intimidated. In fact, you were healing. 

Your mind was no longer in the room of the VR studio. How could it when the sun kissed your skin, giving you the much needed energy that you were lacking for so long? In the room, the two sees you kick your shoes to the side, going barefoot. It may have seem strange, but with the monitor beside you, your actions were perfectly logical. 

As a kid, you used to despise the prickly feeling of sand in between your toes. But now, you grew to love the sensation that each grain of sand had on your skin. It made you feel grounded, that everything was going to be ok. You raise your virtual hand to touch your face - were you crying? 

‘She must have been really stressed huh?’ Katy whispers to Shangqi who nods in return. How he hated the fact that you were giving so much to your work but still felt underappreciated. Forget the Avengers with superhuman abilities, you were the true MVP. The VR ends and you remove your headgear. ‘I’m ok,’ you automatically reassure them despite the dry tears left on both cheeks. You step down the platform slowly, trying to regain sense of the real world. 

What you didn’t expect was the two embracing you in a hug, squishing you in between them. Maybe that had set off the waterworks. For someone like Katy, she had sage advice.

‘Life can be pretty shitty right? But I’m so proud of you fighting it Y/N. Just remember that it’s ok to be weak. I mean, I’ve seen worse from Shangqi,’ she jabs her finger towards his direction, earning a glare from him. That’s Katy, always trying to add a bit of humor to this grey world. Calming down, you let go of the both of them. ‘Thanks guys, for everything.’ 

‘Hey,’ Shangqi responds, slinging his arm over your shoulder. ‘We’re friends, so we don’t leave each other behind.’ Phone beeping, he retrieves it to check the message. ‘And look at that, nice timing. Who wants Korean BBQ?’ 

Trailing behind them, you get an amusing view of Shangqi bickering with Katy on how many Soju bottles she’s allowed to order later. As San Francisco welcomed the night, you were just thankful that you had the two of them to walk through this crazy maze called life. 

‘Last one to the shop is paying!’ 

‘Oh you’re on Mister!’  

A/N: I really just think that this was also an imagine for me to cope too. So I can only hope to finish my placement/assignments/exams well! To anyone who does studies and work simultaneously, I fucking respect you (allow me to use expletives for now, these people deserve the respect). If you’re going through a stressful time, I hope this brings the slightest comfort for you and remember… YOU ARE NOT ALONE! Again, thank you for reading! 

[shemarmooresfedora]

hi hello bestie! congrats on 750 thats so huuge and you deserve all of it <3 can i ask for prompts #27 aand #47? thank youu

No Goodbyes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: angst with fluffy ending, swearing

Word Count: 0.9k

When you announced to the team that you were leaving the BAU, none of them were very happy to say the least. It was nothing personal, you loved the team but even Hotch agreed, you couldn’t pass up this promotion. It was a chance to lead your own team and a pretty good pay raise if you may add.

Despite her unhappiness about you leaving, Penelope was throwing you a farewell party. You decided to help her because you didn’t want her going overboard.

When you walked in on your last day, you wore a bright smile. Yes, it was sad but it was also the start of something new. You would see the team around.

“Good morning, Spence,” you greeted him just like you did every morning.

“Morning,” he muttered back with less enthusiasm than usual.

“Gonna miss me?” you asked with a grin.

He looked up at you from his file and grabbed his coffee mug, heading to the break room without a word.

You furrowed your brow and got back to work, finishing filling out your exit interview paperwork.

-

Even though you had helped plan, Penelope still managed to sneak a few surprises past you like a huge banner that said “Bon Voyage Y/N” and a massive cupcake platter.

“Pen, I said small and simple,” you reminded her.

She grimaced, “Then you’re not going to like the presents we got you.”

“Oh god,” you laughed.

“The girls are bringing you on an all-expenses-paid shopping spree for some boss babe couture!” Penelope exclaimed as JJ and Emily clapped excitedly.

“And Hotch, Rossi, and I built you a new desk and already moved it into your new office for you,” Derek smiled.

“Thank you very much, everyone! It’s much appreciated. I’m going to miss you all. Bring it in!” you outreached your arms for a group hug.

Everyone joined except for Spencer.

“Ooh cupcakes,” Emily grinned, eyeing the platter.

“What flavor?” Spencer asked.

“Vanilla!” Penelope replied.

Spencer frowned, “I prefer chocolate.”

“But, Y/N’s favorite is vanilla,” Penelope gritted her teeth.

Spencer shrugged and walked off. You didn’t see him for the rest of the party.

-

You were packing up your desk at the end of the day while people were beginning to shuffle out.

You were gently placing your belongings in the cardboard box when Spencer approached.

“That’s my mug,” Spencer pointed to the mug you had already put in your box.

You looked up at him with a flat expression, you dumped all the pens out of the mug and on to your desk and handed it to him.

“Happy now?” you deadpanned.

“That’s my pen too,” he pointed to one of the pens scattered on your desk.

“Then take it, take all of it. I don’t care anymore. You want it? Take it,” you finally snapped, "Today was supposed to be my day, Spencer, but you couldn’t get your head out of your ass for one second to congratulate me or even say goodbye. So I’m done. See you around…or not.”

You grabbed your box and stormed off to the elevator without looking back.

-

A knock sounded at your door later that night.

You opened it, revealing Spencer with a gift bag in his hand.

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes and tried to close the door again but he shoved his foot in.

“Please just let me give you your gift,” he pleaded.

“Spencer, if this is some sort of mean prank, I really want no part,” you sighed.

“No, it’s not, I swear,” he promised.

“Fine,” you opened the apartment door all the way to let him in.

“I’m sorry I was so rude to you today,” he followed you to the couch.

“Why, Spence?” you asked.

“I guess I just have some residual feelings of abandonment,” he started to tear up, “Everyone leaves, Y/N, and I hate it. I hate goodbyes.”

You pulled him into a hug, “Spence, I know it won’t be exactly the same but I’m only moving two floors down and my apartment will be the same so I’ll still only be a 5 minute walk from you.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he sniffled, “Open your present.”

It was the mug from earlier and a photo frame of the whole team.

“So you can never forget us even if you try,” he smiled softly.

“Do you know why I was trying to take this mug with me?” you asked.

Spencer furrowed his brow, trying to think back on any sentimental value the mug may hold.

“It was my first day and we had a case. I was so nervous. You offered me a coffee and I told you I didn’t have a mug to put it in yet and you gave me this one and told me I was going to do great on the case,” you smiled, reminiscing.

“And I wasn't wrong,” Spencer added, “I’m going to miss you so much, Y/N.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it then, Pretty Boy?”

Spencer looked up to gauge your facial expressions to see if you were joking or not. You were genuine.

“Will you go to dinner with me, Y/N? Like a date?”

“How about right now?” you smiled.

submit a blurb prompt request for my 750 celebration here! (closes on friday 7/9 11:59 P.M. EST)

[oliviayamaoka]

The Roseville Murders (Chapter 2)

Hi, just wanted to say I adjusted the plot slightly and will go into more detail with the story next chapter! This was a bit experimental and I wanted to write the growing relationship / rivalry between Y/N and Danny. I also wanted to write Y/N as a girlboss and to be just as witty as Danny!

Anyways, please comment any ideas or suggestions you may wanna see in future chapters! I have this planned out but would love any ideas or stuff I can add into the story! Tysm for reading!

It rained softly outside as you took a seat at your workplace. The desk was a bit cluttered with your art, notes, junk, and your papers regarding your current investigation.

One of the drawings on your desk was a sketch of Ghostface’s mask, attached to it was a few notes regarding the origin of the mask. Did Ghostface care for the history of it, anyways? You already theorized he was a narcissist who took pride in his work. Perhaps, he admired Edward Munch and his infamous “The Scream” artwork? Or maybe he based his persona off of it? You weren’t too sure but you did research the distribution and the company that made the masks. It wasn’t a particular popular company but it only distributed to the USA, Canada, and Brazil.

Ghostface didn’t seem too caring when it came to where he stabbed victims. As long as there was a lot of blood and something only he could perceive as art. And maybe you too. You felt excited, you already had a three year timeline. Maybe, you could get ahold of other states and ask if there’s been similar killings. Maybe even Brazil and Canada? You had to pinpoint a location and see if you could find just one name, any name.

Three years. Three countries. A part of you doubted he was Brazilian. Maybe Canadian? You weren’t so sure, you were pretty sure he was American. Y/N would probably have to go to the library tommorow to do research and use the slowly growing internet. Your research was suddenly halted when you knocked your sketchbook over.

Our slid a page. You kneeled down to pick it up, holding it as you examined the dark sketch. On the paper was a sketch of claws? No, they also looked like tentacles. Ever since the incident, you had dreams of these tentacle claws grabbing you and pulling you away from life as you know it. It must’ve been a sign of trauma or maybe it represented what happened through the nightmares? You slid it back into your sketchbook, deciding not to dwell on it. It would only make your room feel more depressing.

Beside your sketchbook was your leather journal. Y/N wrote everything in there, for mental health reasons. You included the incident and what Jonathan did for you. Your previous therapist said journaling your thoughts helped the healing process. It worked but journaling about how you killed your abuser was hell.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when your phone rang. It was a chunky, black mobile phone you got about a week ago? Y/N reached for it and answered.

“Hello?” You answered, using your other hand to organize your desk.

“Hello?” A voice answered, it was a male by the sound of it.

“Hi, who’s this?” Y/N asked, paying no mind to the phone call as she started to put some of her stuff away. Art supplies.

“Who’s this?” He replied.

“Y/N L/N, am I who you’re trying to reach?” You asked, sitting back down.

“Ah, you’re no fun, detective.” He chuckled as you stopped, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. Who was this?

“My apologies but, this is my personal phone. Can I ask who gave you this number?” You questioned him.

“Why does it matter, gorgeous? I know it’s you now.” He responded.

“Please don’t call me that. And yes, I am indeed a detective but I’d feel more comfortable discussing anything with you on my work phone.” Y/N said sternly.

“Oh, yeah… Detective L/N, huh? Think you’re some sort of hotshot because you’re new? Where did you come from? Washington? Gonna take more than the feds to catch me.” He said to you.

You listened intently and stopped for a moment. Catch him? Must be a stupid prank. Although, not a funny one since he had your personal phone number. An eyebrow raised as you looked at your notes on Ghostface.

“You still haven’t told me your name. Let’s not be rude, yeah?” You responded, being a little more cocky since you were off-duty.

“Awe, don’t tell me you forgot my name. I’ll give you a hint… I’ve been quite famous lately. In fact, I think you’ve taken quite the interest in me, Y/N.” The man teased. It was 100% Danny.

“I asked for a name, not an alias.” You said.

“Maybe after dinner, hotshot.” Danny said to you as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m not in Roseville to play games. Either verify you are who you claim to be or quit wasting my time.” Y/N spoke with a stern tone.

“My last victim had three stab wounds to the throat. It was going to be two but their scream wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. And they had a tattoo on their upper thigh. Bella Smith.” He said as you froze for a moment.

It was true. The latest murder victim was a middle-aged woman named Bella Smith who worked at a convenience store. She had multiple stab wounds but it was pretty much impossible to see she had three wounds on her throat just looking at photos of the crime scene.

“Okay and how did you get my number? I imagine the infamous Ghostface doesn’t have access to these types of things. How do I know this isn’t some sort of elaborate prank orchestrated by my coworkers?” You questioned.

“Honey, I am Roseville. Also sounds like you have experience with these kinds of things. You ever get humiliated like that?” Danny asked, grinning widely.

“No, it’s just a very logical conclusion. And why would you be talking to me anyways?” You asked him.

While you spoke to him, you quickly wrote down what he said and what he sounded like. You quickly speculated what his age may be, maybe 25?

“I keep tabs on the cops who are investigating my work and to be honest? They’re all stupid, it’s pathetic. Although, I noticed something about you. You come from one of the big cities, don’t you? You’re actually smart compared to those other pigs.” He said.

“Those pigs you speak of have tried their best in pursuing you. They have families too.” You responded.

“Really, huh? You’ve only been here three weeks? I think you should just trust me on this one because those other officers really don’t know what they’re doing. If you actually find out who I am, are they gonna give you credit? The newbie? A woman?” He asked.

“I don’t understand why gender is an issue. And why would they try to steal credit?” You questioned.

“They’re stuck in this shit hole city and I bet they could just really use a promotion right now. They want so badly to be the hero that arrests me… but first, they’ll let the freshly graduated detective do the work. It’s so easy to overshadow women in this world.” Danny said.

“Well, I don’t care. As long as you’re put behind bars.” Y/N responded.

“The bars at this station? I must say, your desk is quite cute. A bit plain but I like your style… interesting files too.” He mused.

“Huh?” You responded, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Your lil’ office at the station, I like it. This place has always been easy to break into. You noticed it too, didn’t you? Their security sucks and their morgue is just too damn small.” Danny said as you frantically looked around, shoving your shoes on.

“I’m going to call them right now and tell them you’re there. That was a stupid move on your part.” You said, practically yelling.

“So young and naive. I’ll be long gone.” He responded, chuckling as you hung up.

“Fuck, shit!” You said, quickly dialling the number to the police station.

You practically flung your door open, sprinting down the hallway and out through the front doors of the apartment complex after three flights of stairs. Your heart rate increased as you continued running down the sidewalk, feeling more frantic when there was no answer.

“Answer…!” You yelled, calling the emergency number.

“911, how can I help you?” A staticky voice answered as you continued running.

“I’m Detective Y/N L/N! Please inform the police station that there’s an intruder! He might be armed and dangerous! Do not touch anything since there may be forensic evidence!” You instructed.

“Oh—yes, right away, ma’am!” The dispatcher answered as you hung up, continuing to focus on your running towards the station.

Back at your apartment complex, there stood Danny with his own mobile phone. It couldn’t be traced back to him since it was stolen and he didn’t leave any DNA on it. If anything, it had the previous owners. Bella Smith. Your apartment complex had fire escape stairs outside your window. Easy enough, he thought. His outfit was black and had some stuff hanging off it. Strings? Ribbons? Danny was quite quick and extremely quiet when it came to climbing the set of stairs.

He reached your window, pulling it open gently and hoisting himself through, landing gently whilst kneeled down. For precaution, he had his knife gripped in one hand. This was purely for investigation and to see what you truly had on him. His head tilted curiously as he noticed your desk. Your art and notebook. His gloved hand reached out to your sketch of him.

Danny was truly impressed at how detailed and good it was. He read through your sticky notes and theories. Other than the fact he was blown away, he knew you were a threat since you successfully guessed his age range and height. Wait, his height? You did a careful examination of the footage he was in, looking at objects around him and his boots to correctly guess a height.

“What the fuck…?” Danny muttered as he looked at your notes.

The Scream by Edward Munch and a costume company? He skimmed over your notes and the psychological profile you built on him. He felt somewhat panicked since you were indeed no joke. His gaze averted towards your leather notebook. Eagerly, he grabbed it and opened it. Most of it was your thoughts and causes of your stress and anxiety. He stopped flipping through when he saw a darker page. It was dark because of the writing and how crumpled it seemed.

December 23rd, 1992

I was walking down an alleyway two weeks ago. It was cold so I had a jacket over my uniform. I suppose that’s why the man didn’t know I was an officer.

At first, I thought that he was going to try and rob me. It took me a while to realize that my money and belongings wasn’t what he was after. I suppose it would be appropriate to say that I was in shock for a moment. He never finished what he started. Despite being in shock, I was able to feel everything and the adrenaline only helped my rage.

Why? Why did this have to happen to me? After getting him off, I pulled my gun out and he stopped. I still remember the look on his face after I shot him. He was scared and pathetic, as he was in life. I don’t regret killing him. I never will. I just feel utterly violated. Never once have I been touched like that so violently. Is this what this fucked up world has come to? What if I didn’t have my gun and training?

He definitely did this to other women… he deserved to die. And I would do it all over again to him and to other men just like him. Of course, I had to call the police. They were going to charge me with manslaughter but they said that they would push this all under the rug, just as long as I never tell anybody. Did I contribute to corruption in the police force? This getting out would ruin everything. I don’t know but I do know that this was my gift.

Freedom was my gift for killing that man. It felt oddly exhilarating. I hope nobody remembers him, I hope his family know what kind of monster he was. Anyways, I’m being reassigned somewhere. They said they’ll give me my first investigation. In a smaller city.

Danny’s fingers trailed over the page. He felt angry and sad for you. That this happened to you. But, something arose in him when he kept re-reading that paragraph. You… enjoyed it? Behind the mask, he had a soft expression on his face. He imagined your beautiful face full of blood with you and your gun. He smiled gently as he kept the notebook.

He did indeed feel bad for you but he wasn’t satisfied with his limited knowledge of you. Danny decided to use this notebook of incriminating evidence to hold some leverage over you. Not only that but he figured he’d get to know you better if they had something interesting to talk to you about. Danny couldn’t help but grin when he thought about your journal entry and the sketches you made of him. So smart yet so naive.

Danny quickly took a look around your apartment to see all points of entry. He took a peak into your bedroom, it was neat and tidy. He seemed somewhat paranoid so quickly went back to your living room window, making his swift little escape. Not without taking some of your notes on him and your sketchbook.

About two hours later, you rubbed your eyes in frustration as another officer came to talk to you. There was a forensic team still investigating your little office space. Apparently, there was nobody here and your office seemed untouched. For about thirty minutes, you inspected any points of entry and tried to look for out of place shoe marks since it rained outside.

“Detective, are you certain it was the killer who called? We get prank calls a lot.” He said as you nodded.

“Yes, I’m certain. It was him, he knows I’m going to catch him soon.” You said as he nodded a bit.

“Okay, well, we’ll take it from here. Come early tommorow.” He said as you sighed.

“I will but please, don’t miss anything. I’m starting to think he was lying. It was him though.” You said as you turned, walking down the hallway towards the exit.

It seemed to be evening at this point and the rain stopped pouring. It was slightly humid but the city looked oddly beautiful when it was wet? You couldn’t stop thinking about your phone call with Ghostface earlier. Y/N already had some tech professionals try to track the number he called from and all of the information regarding the phone company. You’d have to wait two days at the latest for the results to come back.

As you walked through light puddles, you felt more and more tired. All the running and frantically searching for him was enough to just make you exhausted. It was all last-minute too. Y/N stopped dead in her tracks when she felt her mobile phone ring. You pulled it out of your pocket and answered it.

“Hello?” You asked, tired.

“Hey, gorgeous. Just wanted to apologize for my little deception trick earlier.” He responded as your eyes widened.

“Ghostface…” You responded, shocked that he had the courage to call you again.

“God, hearing that from you…” He said with a slight husk as you took a deep breath quietly to calm yourself.

“You know I’m close, don’t you?” You questioned him as he chuckled.

“Of course, I do… only these hands of mine can do wonders for you.” Danny said to you as you scoffed.

“You’re disgusting.” You say to him.

“Don’t lose your temper now, detective. There’s… things we should discuss.” He cooed.

“Things? Seriously?” You asked him, already tired of his bullshit.

“Yeah! Like, this lil’ notebook of yours! Really deep stuff… Victor Houston, was it? The serial rapist? Must’ve felt real good to put him down, didn’t it? Did it feel as good as you said it did in this thing?” He asked as you froze.

You probably let out a small whimper of shock as your hands trembled. Your heart pumped hard and fast. It was all you can hear as you felt your face heat out of pure embarrassment and shock. He… read your journal? This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good.

“W-What…?” You asked as he cackled.

“God, you’re so hot when you sound scared. Don’t be offended though, babe. You still sound real sexy in your cop tone.” He said as he continued.

“Yeah, I read all about the guy you killed. And how it was all covered up to accommodate you. Are you a star student or something? It’s hard covering up murders… or has it always been easy for you?” He asked.

“I-I, um… how did you get that…?” You asked him, trembling.

“You see, Y/N… we’re the same. You and I are too smart for Roseville. It’s just that I got the upper hand this time. While you rushed to the police station, I took a quick trip into your apartment.” He said as you let out a light gasp.

“Yeah, that’s right! I know where you live, I know where you’re from, and your number. I know who you truly are, Detective Y/N L/N.” Danny said mockingly.

“And what are you going to do with it?” You asked him.

“Always so straight to the point. I might give that annoying little journalist Jed Olsen. You’re trying to work with him, aren’t you? You mentioned in one of these notes… you also think he’s handsome.” He said as you covered your eyes.

You fought tears.

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask.

“I should be asking you that. I’m a bit jealous you find someone like Olsen… attractive. He’s so boring, so normal, so… ugh, I hate talking about him. Still though, nice to know I have another fan besides him.” He said to you.

“Where are you going with this?!” You snapped as he chuckled darkly.

“I won’t tell anybody. Just as long as you halt your investigation for a while. I still want to have fun in Roseville here and well… get to know you.” He said.

“Go to hell.” You muttered.

“How original… so what’ll it be? I kinda need to know now since I’m also on a bit of a time crunch.” Danny asked you.

“W-What the fuck do you want me to do? Sit back and watch as you kill more innocent people?! I won’t let you.” You said with a venomous tone.

“What are you gonna do? Stop me behind bars?” He asked mockingly.

“Fuck you.” You said.

“I’m sure we will. But first, I just want you to sit back and not do anything stupid. We’ll see each other eventually. I’ll call you from another phone soon.” He said, hanging up.

You held your phone in disbelief and quickly made sure you had your gun. How the hell could you have been so dumb?! It was genius, leading you away from you apartment and finding such leverage against you purely out of luck. Your breath trembled as you walked back to your apartment, having your gun ready in your pocket as you did so.

[copias-thrall]

Would it be alright to request some Papa IV x f!Reader? Like the reader is a very kind and sweet person and she has always supported Copia kind of thing? Maybe they’re having a whole day to themselves to celebrate?

Yes! Let’s get some more sweet Copia 😊 

They made fun of him and called him The Rat.

Terzo made him the butt of all his pranks.

Nihil undermined him at every turn.

Imperator pushed him to the point of breaking.

What you saw a man trying to do his best with his only flaw being an outsider within the Abbey walls, and in a place where actual hellbeasts were basically demon cats, were rats such an odd choice of pet?

You were fairly certain Copia knew the “Squeak if u like cheze” sign was taped to his back, but he just walked down the corridors anyway and let the Siblings and Ghouls chitter at him. You’d seen this man save one of the Abbey mice from a glue trap, and your heart just couldn’t let it continue.

So, you’d approached him and offered to remove the offending paper.

Copia, however, had just smiled at you.

“It is good of you to say, Sister. But let them have their fun, eh?”

He’d given you a slight bow and had gone on his merry way.

After that, however, Copia had warmed to you, often seeking you out so he could sit with you in the mess hall at mealtimes or chat theology with you on lazy Saturday afternoons.

When some of Terzo’s faction had started stuttering to make fun of Copia’s shyness with public speaking, you’d tried to shut them down. Not everyone was good in front of a crowd—especially when that crowd was hostile. All that did, however, was get them to double down and start calling you, "rat lover."

“Doesn’t it bother you, Cardinal?" you'd asked during one of your food dates. "It’s so…petty.”

But he’d just given you a fond look.

“It is of no consequence, dear Sister. Let them be thinking what they will.”

You’d learned all of his rats’ names and started smuggling them contraband from the kitchens.

Copia had you transferred from Imperator’s admin pool to work as his assistant.

“All this new paperwork!” He’s swept his arm across the stacks of his desk. “I thought I could be using a little help from a friend, yes?”

You’d inherently understood you weren’t there to file paperwork—you were there to tell him when to take a break, to replace his cold coffee, and to be a sounding board.

And you didn’t miss the way Copia’s mismatched eyes would look on you with adoration.

Well, you thought he was pretty neat, too.

When he’d been away on his first tour, you’d done your best to keep up with him. You had your other duties and your friends, but you tried to send him a supportive word before, during, and after each performance.

His missives back had grown fewer as the tour had dragged on, but each one had been effusive—if riddled with typos.

After the first tour, things had been different. Copia had come back from the road a glowing success…and in a tight suit that showed off his assets instead of his smothering cassock.

The tide turned, and while there were still his many detractors, gone were the days of “kick me” signs and farces.

You’d noticed a significant pay increase and an extra day off.

“But Cardinal! You need me here!” you’d protested.

He’d simply grabbed your hands and kissed each one.

“I do. And that is why you must be well-rested. Lots to get done. Now, shoo!”

And truth be told, the two of you had worked harder. Copia had spent less and less time in his study and more time attending meetings or at band practice or at weekend symposiums. You’d done your best on keeping his mountain of paperwork down to a molehill, but sometimes the two of you needed to work late into the night to meet seemingly arbitrary deadlines while you put your foot down and told the kitchen Ghoul that making some rigatoni past hours wasn’t going to kill them.

Of course, then you needed to put your foot down about Copia stopping long enough to eat the carbonara. Sometimes he’d growl at you, and you’d have to snap your fingers at him and tell him being hangry wasn’t a good excuse to be snippy with you; he was predictably contrite after he’d consumed a good portion, and you took his apologies as your due.

All of which is to say: you had Copia’s back from the get-go, and he knew you were always in his corner.

When he comes back from Mexico newly ascended, there are dozens of Siblings who want a piece of him. Some—like you—have been in his fan club since day 1; others jumped on the bandwagon during the final tour; while a few just see the razzle dazzle and want to shine too.

You’re in his study because you want to make sure everything is caught up before he comes back to work. You imagine that he’s going to spend a few days reaping the rewards of his promotion, and—while a part of you feels a little let down about not being a part of that particular party—you are genuinely invested in Copia succeeding.

So when the door bangs open, you’re startled to find Copia…er…Papa Emeritus the 4th striding into the room.

“Oh! Your Dark Excellency! I was just making sure—”

“How did I be knowing I would find you here, eh? Today is not a day to be working!”

“But you—”

He makes a shushing noise and reaches his hands out. They linger in the air between the both of you until he makes a “come here” motion with his fingers.

Tentatively, you curl your fingers into his gloved ones.

“We are taking the day off, yes?”

“W-we?”

Copia raises an eyebrow at you. “Sí. With who else should I be celebrating?”

You blush, pleased that he seems genuinely baffled.

The March air is living up to its reputation, so Copia leads you to one of the sunniest rooms in the Abbey. There, you find a picnic blanket set up with a picturesque spread of food, and Rain helping Mountain to position a bevy of potted plants around the area.

Copia clucks at them good-naturedly to leave. Rain gives you the thumbs up and Mountain just pats you on the head as they leave. (As Copia’s Girl Friday, you’ve had to backmanage his ghoulies as much as you’ve had to organize his report piles.)

When he gestures for you to sit, you arrange yourself comfortably in a big square of sun that’s streaming in from the windows. As you take in the meats, cheeses, sandwiches, and fruits that populate the corner of the blanket, Copia putters around with a bottle of Champagne and two glasses.

The whole thing is a little unexpected, but not unwelcome, and you watch him with fondness as he utters a Whoopsie when the cork goes flying at the ceiling and as he obsesses over making each glass level.

You two clink glasses with a Salute, both taking a modest sip.

“This is lovely, Cop—uh, Papa.” He’s all smiles. “But why me?”

His eyebrows draw together, and he tilts his head at you.

“Mia cara…who else would it be?”

You blush and shrug your shoulders, looking down at your platter. When he takes your hand in his warm, leathered one, you look up and get lost in his earnest, mismatched gaze.

“You are the most important person in my life.”

His thumb strokes over your knuckles.

“You are too sweet, mia cara. Helping an old man—”

“You’re not old—”

He tsks at you.

“Helping a person I am being. At my side even when you are in the knowing.” He taps his nose and winks. “Our little conspiracy of silence, yes?”

That Copia is not quite exactly the bumbling, nutty-professor he leads the rest of the Clergy to believe he is? Yeah, obviously.

He nods.

“And yet, you are by my side. Keeping my head on straight. Because you are wanting to.”

Because you saw the way he treated his rats, his Ghouls, and even Sister Imperator. He may have a dangerous ambition, but he’s not a dangerous man.

“I believe in you Papa.”

He gives you that fond look again.

“Well. I believe in you too, Sister.”

Copia lets your hand go and claps.

“Now! Let us enjoy this feast! Next up is a movie marathon where we enjoy our food comas, yes?”

You pop a grape into your mouth.

“Of course, Papa.” You give him a devilish smile. “How ‘bout you give the schedule so I can make sure we’re on track, hm?”

He blinks at you for a moment before giving you his little rat laugh.

“Ah, eh heh heh! There is my little taskmaster.”

“What would you do without me?”

He tosses a gape and just barely catches it in his mouth.

“I wouldn’t, cara. I wouldn’t.”