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i am going to work on that damned thing i've been trying to write and actually finish it so HELP ME god. there will be no scribbling. no gaming. no frolicking around on the guitar. no off-key singing and no reading. until it's done.
(i'm exaggerating, but it's a way to get motivated, i guess).
(there will be reading. a lot of it).
(the bug is weak.)
#bug says with determination as they reach to pick the guitar up from its resting place smh#like realistically. i have. more than half of it done. i just need to. finish it. then never look at it again#but this part is so hard. ignoring that fact that i haven't written anything cohesive in years i've. never written anything like this#(it's not good by any measure of the imagination. BUT i gotta start somewhere i suppose. get better by doing and all that jazz.)#(*jazz hands*)#(i just have a lot of misdirected determination and a need to shout into the void to get it out of my head.)#(so i can stop foaming at the mouth like a feral raccoon)#so i can maybe start on one of the other ten ideas i've had because at this point they are haunting me#laughing at me and i can't take it anymore#personal#please.. i am begging you.. i need the brainspace to learn about wood and not about.. pathetic.. soppingly wet.. fictional gays..
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Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)
For The Weak And Weary
PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader
SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?
WORDCOUNT: 6.2k
WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.
A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.
And this was entirely new to you.
He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had.
But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you.
You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.
But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.
If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.
“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.”
It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered.
He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?
“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.”
Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse.
Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”
“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”
The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”
“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”
“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!”
A stiff silence falls.
“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.
“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.
You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains.
Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest.
You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away.
He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you.
When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive.
And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours.
So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second.
But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds.
Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood.
Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through.
In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did.
A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.
Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming.
How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?
Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips.
All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.
How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.
You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest.
If only Keegan could see you now.
Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.
Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them.
“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas.
You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar.
“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too.
Everything would be done if another city fell.
Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry.
Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down.
You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him.
Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another.
Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.
Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.
“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm.
Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.
Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...
When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike.
—
It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that.
On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.
Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do.
Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness.
“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up.
The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did.
Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.
“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”
The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears.
“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!”
On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock.
Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.
And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious.
With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream.
You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static.
I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead.
While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out.
It rang a devastating bell.
Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t.
Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.
The only love of your life.
“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.”
Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.
The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…
Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile?
Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky.
“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him.
He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression.
“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.”
“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine.
You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.
It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.
“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact.
Your face gains heat.
“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment.
“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”
“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.
He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow.
“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?”
Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began.
Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died.
At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.
So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar.
“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found.
“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.”
The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk.
“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls.
You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.”
Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.
“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around.
Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more.
You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.
Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water.
More than one-thousand miles.
But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering.
Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet.
Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important.
Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.
—
The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything.
Until you said you were from Dallas, of course.
But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious.
But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.
You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years.
In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place.
Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet.
The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds.
“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?”
You weren’t going to stop until you found it.
Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet.
“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him.
Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.
“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you.
“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.”
You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you.
“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”
“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard.
Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?”
“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it.
“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”
“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.”
“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.”
Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after.
“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question.
“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile.
“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building.
Yelling is on the other side.
“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told.
“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.
…Keegan?
“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.
“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”
“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood.
Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch.
Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago.
Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.
Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system.
The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real.
Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three.
“...Sweetheart?”
His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.
You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.
The door shuts, but neither of you notices.
“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.”
He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible.
“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.
Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet.
“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”
“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?”
His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years.
“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?”
Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh.
The man forces a weak huff.
“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you.
You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.
Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same.
Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you.
He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck.
“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?”
You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.
“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.”
You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you.
The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.
“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”
“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”
You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.
Not to leave again anytime soon.
TAGS:
@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast
#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#call of duty#x female reader#call of duty keegan#call of duty x reader#call of duty x you#cod keegan#keegan p russ#keegan x reader#keegan russ#keegan x you#keegan russ x reader#keegan p russ x reader#call of duty ghosts#cod ghosts x reader#cod ghosts#cod keegan russ#cod fic#cod fanfic#cod x female reader#x fem!reader
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{overview} You make a wrong turn once or twice
{warnings} fem reader, chapter story, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, some emotional angst
Chapter 35 <- Chapter 36 -> Chapter 37
It was strange how something so small could be so violating.
The tracker had been removed in under ten minutes- it had taken longer for the anesthetics to kick in. Now here you were in a hospital observation room with the little wire in your hands.
Dr. Harrelson wanted to keep you for a few more hours to make sure your symptoms evened out and to make sure you didn't have a reaction to the anesthetics.
The sun was up now. You could see it expanding over the ceiling. There was a knock besides your curtain.
“How are you doing, pup?” Dr. Harrelson questioned. The back of his hand rested against your forehead, a small quirk in his lips at your perfect temperature.
“I feel a lot better physically,” you half chuckled. Your eyes darted down to the small wire that was being twirled between your fingers. “Is there any way we can trace it back to someone?” you asked.
“I don't see why not,” he shrugged. “All your alphas have to do is”-
“No alphas,” you interjected. “I've given them enough trouble in my time with them. This is something I need to figure out on my own,” you emphasized.
You've had more than enough time to think. This tracker had been injected into you years ago. It had nothing to do with your pack now. Why should they be involved in it? Or forced to fix the situation? Looking back now it was a blessing you were alone when this happened.
You couldn't cause any more problems.
Just because you were marked doesn't mean you couldn't be thrown to the curb. It was clear they had no qualms about being apart from you. Maybe it was easier for them. They didn't have to worry about you. They didn't have to change their schedule to accommodate you. It could just be the four of them.
Like the good ol’ days.
“Pup?” Dr. Harrelson pressed. You opened your eyes.
“Where do I go to get this looked at?” You asked. He sighed, scratching at his narrow jaw.
“You can send it to a lab,” he said finally. “There’s one on base. You'll need an alpha to sign off on it though,” he explained.
“Any alpha, or just my alpha?”
“Any,” he sighed once more.
“Dr. Harrelson,” you spoke. His honey eyes softened. “Thank you for helping me. I would also like for you to be my primary doctor. If that's alright with you?” you added. His face softened even more.
“Would be my honor. You’ll have to convince your alphas of that though,” he smiled.
“Anais I need a favor,” you murmured hesitantly.
“What happened? You don't sound too good,” she spoke from the other line. You could imagine the crinkle by her eyes as she spoke.
“I was sick and had to go to the doctors. I'm fine now but I found something. I was hoping you and Briggs could help me,” you explained.
“Why didn't you call me earlier?!? Where are you? We’ll be right there,” she growled from the other end.
“Still at the doctors at the entrance of the omega ward. Thank you, Anais,” you breathed.
The pair were there shortly after she hung up. You didn't see Anais’ alpha a lot- he was a busy man. He had a duffle flung over his shoulder and you already knew Anais had planned to stay the night with you. As soon as she got close you wrapped your arms around her, breathing in her honey scent. The two of you walked side by side, Briggs standing opposingly behind you.
“So they pulled this out of your leg?” Briggs started, holding the small wire between his fingertips. You nodded, a pang shooting through your legs at the thought.
“How come it didn't dissolve?” Anais spoke. You honestly hadn't thought to ask that.
“Defected or something,” you guessed.
“You or the wire?” she questioned, making you giggle.
“Probably both,” you sighed.
“You have any idea who could've placed it?” Briggs hummed, his elbows resting on his knees.
“It would've been around the time if first went into omega holding houses or a little before,” you explained.
“I’m sure you would've felt it being injected. What about when you first arrived at the omega holding house? Don’t they do physicals?” Briggs asked.
“They do. But I kept my pants on the whole time. They just do routine stuff like blood pressure, heart rate, check your eyes and ears,” you explained.
“You said a little before,” Anais began. “Could it be someone from your family? Maybe your grandparents? They were the ones that worried about you,” Anais suggested.
You didn't know what to think. It felt more likely that it was someone from one of your omega holding houses. But why would they want to track you? You never stayed at one long enough to get attached to someone.
“Maybe it's just for scientific reasons?” you spoke. Both their eyebrows quirked. “Like how scientists track sea turtles and things like that. Maybe they track a lot of omegas just to see where we end up or how long it takes before we get scooped up by a pack,” you continued.
“Not a shabby idea,” Briggs hummed. “You satisfied with that though?”
“No,” you replied. “That’s why I need you. I want to send it to the lab on base so they can track who it's from. I just need an alpha to sign off on it,” you explained slowly. Briggs held up a hand to stop you.
“This is something your alphas should do for you”-
“I can't go to them with this!” you sputtered. “You two know that I've been a bit of a troublemaker already. The last thing I need is more problems- especially after being marked. They’d give me the boot,” you admitted.
“I’m going to tell you this as not only an alpha but a friend, that's insulting,” Briggs snapped. Your eyes widened, and you could see Anais shiver from next to you. “Nothing is worse to an alpha than their omega not trusting them to take care of them. Not only that, but your betas would throw a fucking fit too,”
“I understand that Briggs, but you don't know the whole situation”-
“Neither do you,” Briggs interrupted. “You seem to forget that your pack are the top dogs around this place. I don't need them comin’ after me,” he breathed.
“They wouldn't do that! Besides, how would they even know?”
“Nothing happens without the 141 knowin’ about it. Wouldn't be surprised if they already knew about your leg,” Briggs spoke. Your heart dropped into your stomach.
That couldn't be true.
They couldn't know everything.
“Alright,” you agreed. “I shouldn't have expected you to do that. I'm sorry. Both of you,” you whispered, shuffling a bit closer to Anais. The energy in the air had made her uncomfortable. Briggs reached out a hand holding the back of her head and pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead to soothe her.
“Why can't you do it?” Anais pressed, looking up at Briggs. His blonde brows furrowed.
“If they found out. They would separate the two of you,” Briggs added. You didn't quite appreciate the way he spoke about your pack. Sure, they could be a bit extreme in some cases, but they were fair.
“They wouldn’t do that,” you assured.
“Say it’s mine!” Anais yelled suddenly. “The wire,” she clarified.
“I don't know about that”-
“You would do that Anais?” you asked.
“Of course,” she chuckled. “You would do that for me too! Remember that one time I knocked over a display case and you said it was you because you knew you wouldn't get in trouble because of who your pack is,” she giggled, causing a smile to grace your face. Both of you turned to Briggs.
“I guess that could work,” he sighed defeatedly.
You couldn't take it anymore.
In four days it would be a month since you’ve heard from your pack. It wasn't right. It wasn't natural.
The bonds you had worked so hard to build were already fraying.
The flat was no longer theirs. All scent of them had been erased from the surface.
You couldn't believe that they had no time to call you.
They had done it before.
What made this time so different?
You were marked.
They already had you where they wanted you. The courting phase was over. They had gotten what they wanted. An obedient omega waiting for them at home. They didn't need to impress you. They didn't need to win you over.
The bonds you had worked so hard to build were already fraying.
A few days ago, in a moment of weakness, you called Laswell.
A few more rings and it’ll go to voicemail.
“What’s wrong, honey?” The sound of her voice made you sob. Well, sob harder than you already had been.
“When are they coming home?” you gasped out, your hand gripping the neck of your shirt. You could get her growl on the other end. Not against you, but for you.
“I’m not sure, honey. They miss you,” she pressed out, her own eyes watering at the pure anguish in your voice.
“That’s not enough,” you sobbed. “Can I hear one of them? Please?” you begged.
“I can't,” she whispered. “They are fine though, sweetheart. They’re doing everything they can to get back home to you. It’s just- It’s never-ending,” was all she could say.
“That’s not enough,” you gasped out, your phone dropping to the floor.
It was exhausting. Constantly teetering between heartbreak and anger.
What If you left?
How long would it take before anyone noticed?
Anais would know immediately. But who would she tell? Would there be anything anyone could do? What was stopping you from walking off of base right now?
The chip behind your ear might make it a bit challenging.
Your chip.
You hadn't thought about that before. Were they checking it? Could they see that you went to the medical center?
If they had enough time to check the app, they had enough time to call you.
Bastards.
What if they did know that you went to the medical center in the middle of the night? No one bothered to check up on you.
Bastards.
You pulled yourself off the floor trudging into your room. You threw on a sweater, a pair of jeans, and your lace-up shoes. You made your hair semi-presentable.
Could you really do this?
Leave the safety of your flat and head out into the world.
You should at least put on some scent blockers.
Your hand gripped the cold metal of the door handle. You had everything you needed. Vernie cuddled up in the backpack on your back. Your phone, keys and a bit of cash and a card your pack had left you with.
All you had to do was open the door.
All you had to do was open the door.
And move your feet.
Which proved to be harder than opening the door.
All you had to do was get onto the elevator.
That part was easy.
All you had to do was leave the building.
That part was hard.
All you had to do was make your way to the entrance of base.
That part was long.
All you had to do was decide if you wanted to go left, right or straight.
You could always turn back around.
No.
To the right was where the city was. It had the bakery. The store. The aquarium. To the left was the beach.
You didn't know what was straight ahead.
Why not find out?
You stayed a little past the treeline, so nobody could see you from the road. You only had to walk around an hour before you were in a completely different area. It was nice. Suburban. It made you feel safe. Vernie padded alongside you, her leash in her mouth.
“How about a little break?” you questioned, looking down at the pup. She paid you no mind too absorbed in the leaves beneath her paws. You stopped at a gas station, quickly putting Vernie back into the backpack. You grabbed some water and a large fountain soda. The two of you sat on the curb, taking in the world around you. While it wasn't entirely glamorous, it was free- and it was yours.
The leaves had nearly finished turning. Just another thing your pack was missing. In the distance you could see some dark clouds rolling in. Maybe you should turn back? You have proven your point.
To turn back now felt like giving up. Giving up on what you weren't quite sure. Yet, the feeling was enough to move you to stand. Just as you were about to continue Vernie turned, beginning to pull you back the way you came.
“Vernie,” you sighed, gently pulling the pup along. She was as stubborn as you, tugging back on the leash. You looked back up at the sky again. “Maybe you're right,” you grumbled, heading back the way you came.
You were halfway there when the rain started to come down. It started off as a drizzle, you picking up the pace to compensate. That didn't matter much.
You were thoroughly soaked. Your sweater the perfect material to soak up any moisture in the air. You were more concerned about Vernie though. She seemed fine. You had flipped the backpack to your front, holding her against you for warmth. The trees provided some protection, but the wind was strong.
“I’m sorry Vern,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss against her head. You had started to shiver now, the temperature dropping as the clouds blocked the sun. You shouldn't have left. You especially shouldn't have wandered out without a raincoat. “Sorry, Vern,” you apologized again. You just had twenty more minutes till you were home. You didn't want to walk through base like this.
You suppose you deserved it.
Tires screeching to a halt caught your attention. You shrunk back, trying your best to conceal yourself against the treeline. You peaked around as the door of the car slammed shut, a very pissed alpha and beta heading your way.
Hi friends! 👋 See you in three days for chapter 36🫣Hope you are liking section 2 so far!
#novemberheart#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#ghost x reader#poly141#price x reader#simon ghost riley#soap x reader#johnny soap mactavish#poly141 x fem reader#poly 141#poly141 x reader#captain john price x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#cod a/b/o#a/b/o dynamics#a/b/o#price cod#ghost cod#Gaz cod#soap cod
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Quen's sister ~ Chris Sturniolo (Part two)
Summary: After meeting the Sturniolo triplets and getting Chris' number you've been texting non-stop, which your sister notices and makes a plan.
Warnings: possible swearing, nicknames, surprise date, fluff
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Over the past few weeks, you and Chris had been texting non-stop. It had been friendly but also kinda flirty. You had many jokes and sent many memes to each other. You were often found with your head in your phone, but now a massive smile was etched onto your face and soft laughter left your mouth.
Quen noticed this and knew it was Chris. Why? Only because Nick and Matt were experiencing the exact same thing. Chris was found buried in his phone, smiling and laughing as well.
So the three knew they had to make a plan. They had started simple, group hangout. You and Quen would go to their place, they would go to yours or you'd meet somewhere and do something.
As all this happened, your sister, Nick and Matt noticed how close and connected you and Chris were. They also saw how both of you liked each other but wouldn't dare admit it.
"We gotta get them on a date." Quen said.
Her, Nick and Matt were sat in a coffee shop thinking of another plan. Quen had said she went to meet Larray whilst Nick said he had a meeting for Space Camp and needed Matt to drive him. Neither you or Chris suspected a thing.
"What are we going to do, say we're going for dinner but actually only they show up?" Matt asked sarcastically.
"That's fucking genius!" Nick exclaimed.
"Yes! We can book the table and time but they arrive!" Quen shouted.
"I was joking." Matt muttered.
"It's a good idea, joke or not." Nick said, patting Matt's shoulder.
So the three made a plan. They booked a table at a nice restaurant under Chris' name. Quen messaged you to get ready for dinner at six, whilst Nick said the same to Chris and said they would meet you there, but in reality they would just go home.
~~~~~~~~~
A few hours later, you took an Uber to the restaurant, thinking you were meeting for dinner. Not knowing you were about to have a date with Chris.
When you arrived and got out. You sent a message to Quen, but didn't get a reply. You waited a few minutes thinking she must be on her way, when you saw Chris walking over.
"Hey!" He greeted cheerfully.
"Hey, Chris." You responded.
He smiled and gave you a hug. You smiled, feeling the butterflies in your stomach. When he pulled away, you felt slightly cold.
"Are we early?" Chris then asked.
You checked the time and saw it was five fifty. You know the table was booked for six.
"Not really, maybe they are inside?" You suggested.
"Let's go see." He replied.
You both went inside and spoke to the waiter who led you to an empty table. You thanked the waiter and sat down, looking at the menu and texting your siblings you were at the table.
Ten minutes past and no responses from either Quen, Nick or Matt. They didn't show up either. You both ordered some drinks, still waiting for your siblings.
"So, how you been?" Chris asked.
"I've been good, I started posting on TikTok more." You answered.
"I saw." He replied, smiling.
"You follow my TikTok?" You asked.
"Of course! Love the prank ones." He said.
You smiled and continued chatting. You shared some stories of your past week and some funny videos you've both found. The night went on as you ordered food, totally ignoring the fact that Quen, Nick and Matt didn't show until it was time to leave.
Chris paid, which you were grateful for even though you said he didn't have too. He smiled as you went outside about to get an Uber.
"You know, it was fun, just us." Chris said.
"Yeah, I totally forgot it was supposed to be a group thing." You responded.
"Kinda like a date." Chris mumbled.
"Yeah." You whispered.
You looked up at Chris as he looked down at you. Both of you smiled at each other.
"I really like you." Chris blurted out.
"I really like you too." You replied.
"Wanna maybe go on another date?" He suggested.
"I'd love too!" You exclaimed, making him laugh.
"Okay, text you later, sweetheart." He responded, kissing your cheek as he got in an Uber.
You smiled and got in another Uber, heading home, a massive smile on your face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags:
@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo triplets oneshot#sturniolo triplets fanfic#sturniolo triplets x reader#chris sturniolo oneshot#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo oneshot#nick sturniolo fanfic#nick sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo oneshot#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#quenlin blackwell#sister!reader#younger sister#dating#fluff
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Emergency Contact
Summary: Having siblings sucks. Having siblings who are constantly getting into life threatening situations is worse. 5.9k words.
Disclaimer: as usual, if they're ooc no. uhm. Diavolo and Barbatos are here and they are referred to as Lucifer's boyfriends but it's in like a fun jokey teasing way that siblings do. except Lucifer actually is dating Diavolo in my head so. asmo and solomon ARE dating because I want them to be. maybe next time I'll make solomon date satan. you can only call a man a cute kitty so many times before people get ideas. if you couldn't tell by the title and the summary, people get #sick and break their #bones. oh. there is one (1) cannibalism joke. not demoncest just bros being bros.
Notes: this took so long because I've never written a decent ending in my life and i spent two days on it. also that anon really pissed me off for some reason idk. if you don't like how anyone is characterized write your own fanfiction man idk. solmare doesn't even have consistency with this nonsense. Lucifer is nice to his brothers in this because I want him to be. amen.
It’s a little known fact that Lucifer is everyone’s emergency contact. When it comes to those he cares about, he is protective, almost annoyingly so. So, it makes sense that the person who knows everything about everyone should be in charge if something goes awry. His phone hardly ever rings for emergencies, half because his brothers’ manage to get themselves out of trouble through a series of convoluted and confusing hijinks and half because most of them would rather eat nails than call him to tell him something is wrong. He’s even Barbatos’ emergency contact, despite the fact that Barbatos has never been sick or injured.
When his phone does ring, though, it’s almost always because someone has managed to damage themselves beyond repair, which is why he’s staring at the caller id on his D.D.D. like he can make it stop ringing if he glares hard enough.
“Lucifer Morningstar speaking,” it hadn’t stopped ringing and Diavolo had almost reached across the table to answer it for him.
“Hello this is Devildom General Hospital. We received a patient today and your name was on his–”
“Who.” It comes out dull and flat. He’s gripping his fork so hard he can hear the metal squeak.
“Excuse me?” The demon on the other end of the phone sounds perfectly polite but Lucifer is already so strung out all it does is grate his nerves.
“Who are you calling for?”
“Mam–”
“I’ll be right there,” he’s standing up in a hurry, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and ignoring Diavolo’s many questions as he leaves their dinner.
“Sir, if you’ll just–” he hangs up before the nurse can say anything else.
-
Mammon managed to break a bone or two in a scuffle he won’t tell Lucifer the details of.
“Do you know how hard it is to break a femur, Mammon?” Lucifer is gripping the steering wheel of the car so hard he’s surprised it hasn’t snapped in half.
“Pretty damn hard, all things considerin’.” Lucifer exhales sharply out of his nose and looks at his brother from the corner of his eye. He’s staring out of the window, and the white of his hair is dirty with mud and something red that Lucifer knows didn’t come out of his skull but worries him regardless.
“Mammon, this isn’t something to joke about.”
“I know,” he taps the hard cast of his leg with a bruised knuckle, “‘m the one with the broken bones.”
“If you know why are you doing it?” Lucifer can’t stop his voice from raising a few decibels towards the end of his sentence and has to mentally count to ten to not start screaming.
“‘Cause I just got the shit beat outta me ‘n’ I don’t wanna listen to yer lecturin’.” Mammon finally turns his head to stare at Lucifer and the elder looks away from the road for a second to meet his eyes. It’s not often that Mammon genuinely argues with him, not often that Mammon gets mad enough to let the blue of his eyes light with fury. Whatever happened tonight was not something that he wanted to happen, and it’s not something he needs a scolding for.
There’s a tense silence where Lucifer sighs and then flicks the turn signal, sliding across the lanes of traffic to take Mammon somewhere else before they go home.
“Did you win?” He’s pulling into Madame Screams’ drive through when he asks.
“‘Course I did.”
“Good.”
They both silently agree not to tell the rest of them about their little pit stop, and it’s as Lucifer’s pulling into the garage that he turns to his brother.
“Mammon.” A hum sounds from the passenger seat. “Next time, call me yourself. I don’t want it to be the hospital unless you’re physically incapable of talking.”
“Roger that.”
—
Lucifer is not known as the most comforting of his brothers. The six of them tend to rely on each other for that, going to Mammon or Beel if they have emotional troubles. Lucifer, as the oldest, is good for cleaning up messes. Putting things back together and making it look like nothing was ever amiss in the first place. It’s his job to protect them, from the world and from themselves, and he takes it seriously. Still, despite his brick wall in place of a heart and his general ineptitude when it comes to being affirming in any sense, he is not incapable of helping his brothers out of a tight spot. He’s just not preferred.
“Lucifer,” Levi’s voice is shaky and stuttering on the other end of the phone. He knew something was wrong when his phone started ringing in the middle of class. His brothers all know how much he hates distractions during class time, just like they know when he has a class so they don’t bother him. He knew something was worse when it was Levi’s name flashing across the screen. Levi refuses to call any of them unless the world is ending. He knew something was horrible when he remembered that today was one of the few days that Levi is mandated to come to campus.
“Yes?” He’s already left class walking down the hallway towards the abandoned wing where he knows Levi is. He keeps his steps measured and even, keeps his breathing calm. It won’t do to have two of them panicked at the same time.
“Are you busy?” They both know the answer to that question, just like they both know he’s going to lie.
“You caught me in the middle of a break. Why?” He tests the door handle for the swimming pool. Closed for renovations, the sign says. The same thing it’s said for the past several millennia. The door swings open without any effort on his part, the magic seal already broken before he got here.
“Would you like to go for a swim?” There’s a splash on the other end of the line. Lucifer snorts.
“I’m not one for water.” There’s silence and another splash and Lucifer lets out a heavy sigh. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”
“Yay,” Levi says, soft and timid, and Lucifer can see him now, all of him, filling up the entire pool. He doesn’t get in yet, just removes a glove and sticks a finger in the water to let Levi know he’s here. He watches as the miles and miles of indigo scales shift and slide along each other until he’s face to face with thousands of sharp teeth.
“You’re going to break the pool again,” is what he says, voice dry. He sputters indignantly when that earns him salt water to the face. He’s soaked now, head to toe and he’s going to miss these shoes.
“Oops.” Levi’s voice is sprinkled with something mirthful, no longer halfway to tears as it was just a moment ago. “Get in. The water’s nice.”
“Yes,” Lucifer swipes a hand across his face to push his bangs back. Salt water drips into his eyes anyway. “I can see that.”
Levi giggles and his face moves away, body coiling in, on, and over itself, too big to fully fit in the pool.
“You said you’d swim with me.”
“Yes. I suppose I did.”
Truthfully, Lucifer doesn’t like swimming. He is not a bird that is built for water, and getting wet usually means being cold and grounded for a while. Truthfully, he’d rather finally open one of the many letters Michael has sent him over the years. Truthfully, he would do anything for his brothers. Truthfully, Lucifer doesn’t think he’ll fit, but a promise is a promise, so he slides out of his uniform and climbs in.
Levi doesn’t ever tell him what made him so upset he rebroke R.A.D. 's pool, but he does leave a box of Princess’ Poison Apples on his desk the next morning, so Lucifer sets his sights on re-fixing the swimming pool. Maybe this time he’ll convince Diavolo to make it bigger.
—
Satan would rather rip his own teeth out with nothing but a Q-tip and a single milligram of ibuprofen to numb the pain than ever ask Lucifer for help. Their relationship is getting better, he will admit, but he’s filled with a rage towards the oldest that could melt even the strongest of metals, and it will take a while to temper the flame. So, no, he will not ask Lucifer for help, but, if he’s annoying enough about it, Lucifer will fix it anyways.
He starts by mentioning it to Asmo, squinting at him and saying that no, he can’t tell if Asmo’s eyeliner is uneven, because he can’t see.
“Can’t see?” Manicured fingernails are digging into his cheeks as Asmo grips his face and moves his head from side to side. He has to shelve books in his mind’s inner library to not rip his brother’s face clean off his head.
“Doesn’t look like cataracts or anything,” Asmo hums, dropping his face. Satan massages his jaw slightly. “What do you mean you ‘can’t see’?”
“I meant what I said. Your face is slightly blurry and I can’t tell if your eyeliner is even because it just looks like a blob. Ergo. I can’t see.” Satan crosses his arms over his chest and dodges Asmo’s subsequent grabs for his face.
“Oh,” a snort, “you probably need glasses.” He turns back around to his vanity and Satan has to stop himself from saying no shit out loud.
“Glasses are for losers.”
“Lucifer wears glasses.”
“My point exactly.” Asmo twists his lipstick back down before popping the cap on and pulling open a drawer. He gestures for Satan to look inside and he does and–
“I didn’t know you wore contacts.”
“Not very many people do. Mammon has glasses too, you know. He’s sensitive to bright lights. The sunglasses indoors are not just a poor fashion statement,” Asmo sighs and shakes his head, like the image of Mammon wearing his sunglasses inside brings him physical pain. “And, I think Levi has some because all of those screens destroyed his rods and cones.”
“Oh. I’m sorry for calling you a loser.” Asmo waves him off.
“The point, Bitty, is that you wouldn’t be the first.” It wouldn’t be just you and Lucifer is what he’s saying. Satan nods and then frowns.
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“Why?” Asmo reaches over to poke his cheek. He narrowly avoids getting a finger bitten off. His voice rises several octaves, turning into a coo. “You’re just an itty bitty baby– Ow, dammit fine.”
-
He then proceeds to complain about it as loudly as possible, as frequently as possible. No, he can’t help Mammon with his homework, the words are bleeding together. Yes, he does have to sit front and center now because otherwise the board is unreadable. No, he did not catch that last slanderous missive about Lucifer in the R.A.D. Newspaper because he couldn’t read the draft that was sent to him for editing. (He made Belphie read the drafts to him out loud and thought that the article was funny.)
“Satan,” everytime Lucifer has to talk to him he looks constipated and it makes Satan laugh inside.
“Big Bother.” Lucifer’s eye twitches.
“You have an appointment with the optometrist. Get in the car.” Satan sets his book down.
“Can’t Mammon take me?” He doesn’t want Mammon to take him. Still, it’s funny to see the vein pop on Lucifer’s forehead.
“... Get in the fucking car.”
Satan plays heavy metal in the car because he knows Lucifer hates it and makes him sit in the lobby during the actual check up because he thinks it’s funny to watch his leg bounce up and down. (And because Lucifer gets a copy of all of their medical records anyway. The freak probably checked Satan’s eyes himself while he was sleeping and already knows his prescription.)
“Those glasses look nice on you,” is all Lucifer says when he picks out the frames.
“I changed my mind. I hate these ones.” (He doesn’t.)
—
He’d been in his room, up to his eyes in paperwork when his phone rang. It’s not unusual for Asmo to call him, the younger always wanting to chat and gossip for as long as Lucifer will pretend to listen, but it is unusual for him to call in the middle of an Asmo Night.
“Hi Asmo, what–”
“Lucy!!” He has to pull the phone away from his ear to avoid rupturing the drum.
“I believe I have asked you not to–”
“Hey! Give me my–” There’s a scuffle on the other end before a voice that Lucifer recognizes as Solomon’s starts speaking.
“Lucifer! I believe Asmodeus has had enough for tonight and needs to be deposited home. I would do it myself, but as per our agreement, I am not allowed–”
“Within twenty feet of my front door. Yes, I know. I’ll come get him. Please keep him out of trouble until I get there.” He rubs the bridge of his nose before standing up and making his way to the door.
“Wonderful! Now, about that pact–” Lucifer hangs up before Solomon can finish the question and hits Levi’s door on the way down the stairs.
“Bed, Leviathan.” There’s a small squeak in response. “Or at least pretend to be sleeping. I can hear your game from out here.” The RPG music leaking from Levi’s room into the hallway quiets drastically.
He stops by the kitchen to find Asmo his crackers and a bottle of water before leaving, instructing Beel to carry himself and Belphie to bed on his way out.
Lucifer does not like parties. He thinks they are loud and annoying and too many people try to get handsy with him when really all he wants is to drink his Demonus in peace. He’s dealing with that now, batting off people’s hands and ignoring requests for a night alone as he makes his way to Asmo’s booth.
“Asmo,” Solomon’s voice is soft and fond as he rouses Asmo from a short nap, “Lucifer’s here. It’s time to go.”
“Mmkay.” Asmo rubs his eyes and gives Solomon a peck on the lips that Lucifer has to fight the urge to gag at. He crawls out of the booth and grabs Lucifer’s hand, and somehow the crowd parts to let him past with no fuss. They barely make it outside before Asmo is hurling all over the sidewalk and Lucifer is remembering that Asmo smells like warm, sugared peaches.
Asmo smells like peaches. Allegedly, he smells like whatever is the most alluring to you, but Lucifer thinks he has always smelled like peaches. He smells like the holy peach cobbler that Michael used to make in the Celestial Realm. Asmo smells like the peach flavored macarons that Barbatos makes when he and Lucifer have tea. He smells like the Georgia peaches the human made him try once. Asmo smells like peaches, he smells like home and love and care, and you would have to hold Lucifer at gunpoint to get him to admit this to his brother.
And now, Lucifer is getting a face full of that smell mixed with vomit as Asmo leans over a bush and loses whatever meager dinner Beel had shoved in him as well as half his body weight in alcohol. There’s a flash from the corner of his eye and he makes a mental note to follow up on that.
“It will sound hypocritical coming from me,” he starts and is promptly interrupted by another retch.
“Then don’t–good Diavolo, that tastes awful–say it.” Asmo takes the water bottle that Lucifer dutifully hands him and rinses his mouth out.
“Are you done?” Lucifer starts fishing around his jacket pocket for a pack of Asmo’s favorite crackers. They taste like flowers, allegedly, and they're one of the few things that Beel genuinely doesn’t like to eat.
“For now.” Asmo takes the crackers and starts munching on them gratefully, leaning heavily into Lucifer’s side as they both walk home.
“Thank you for coming,” he says. Lucifer scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“I would never leave one of you alone.”
“Aww, that’s so–”
“The paperwork alone would take at least a decade.”
“Nevermind.”
-
If Lucifer hunts down the demon who took the picture and threatens them within an inch of their life, that’s between him and his Father. And if Asmo finds out and gives Lucifer a hug at breakfast the following morning, that’s between him and Mammon’s camera roll.
—
Lucifer hates Fangol. Well, that’s not true. He admires the dedication someone has to have to play it and to play it well. He admits that sometimes it’s fun to go to games and get caught up in the hype of the crowd. He also likes that it makes Beel happy. What he doesn’t like is sitting in the stands as his second youngest brother makes a game winning play and then gets tackled onto the turf so hard you can hear the sound his head makes when it hits the ground.
The crowd goes silent and the players and the band take a knee and Lucifer is half dragging half carrying Belphie down the stands to the ambulance as the EMT’s check over their brother.
“Sir, I understand–” The paramedic cuts themself off when they see whose shadows are looming over them. They heave a sigh and gesture to a patch of grass near where they have Beel laying on a gurney. “Try to avoid being in our way.”
It’s a fight to keep Belphie from being underfoot, but there isn’t one when Lucifer says he’s riding in the ambulance with Beel to the hospital. Only a curt nod and then a muttered threat in his ear that he rolls his eyes at and then their off.
“Sorry.” It’s the first thing out of Beel’s mouth after he’s done being asked routine questions.
“It’s not like you asked to receive a concussion.”
“We don’t know that it’s a concussion,” Beel says, wagging his finger slowly. Lucifer rolls his eyes.
“You told the paramedic you wanted to throw up and pass out at the same time.”
“Average Beelzebub activities.” It makes Lucifer snort, lips twitching up into a smile.
“That is the exact opposite of a Beelzebub activity. You’ll be okay, though.” The you have to be goes unsaid.
It turns out to be a concussion and Beel is barred from playing for a while and then everything is fine.
-
Lucifer has changed his mind, he definitely hates Fangol. He has half a mind to ban Beel from ever playing it again, but if he didn’t have something to focus his energy on, they wouldn’t have a House to live in.
He stayed home from the game, wanting to relax, for once, with a new cursed record and a bottle of his prized Demonus. He might have also paused the record to watch the stream of the game on his phone, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s busy cussing out one of the commentators for their clear bias against Beel–they haven’t been angels in literally thousands of years, people need to find a new excuse–when it cuts suddenly from a replay of the last down to a live feed from the field. And then his phone rings.
“Mammon,” he already knows what happened before he picks up.
“I know ya said not ta call ya tonight, but,” he sounds haggard, and his accent gets thicker when he’s panicking, “ya also said not ta let the hospital call ya so–”
“Mammon,” it comes out snappier than he wants it to and he has to soften his voice when he opens his mouth again, “breathe. What’s happened?”
“Dear Father who art in Heaven–” Lucifer curses again because Mammon only reverts to praying when something is seriously wrong. “Beel got tackled ‘nd– Lucifer, ya could hear the crunch from Diavolo’s good seats.” Lucifer sucks in a breath and considers sending up a couple prayers himself.
“I’m on my way. Beel will– Beel will be okay, Mammon. He’s strong.” He hears Mammon’s assent from the other end of the line just as he hears Levi mumble something to Mammon.
“Oh, yer kiddin’.”
“What? Mammon, what’s going on?”
“We can’t fin’ Belphie.”
“Shit.”
-
If Lucifer breaks traffic laws on his way to the stadium, no one who pulls him over will be able to make anything stick for very long. He watches as the ambulance pulls away and his D.D.D. buzzes with a message.
Mams
I went with Beel. Everyone’s still tryna find Belphie.
“Lucifer–” he’s met with an armful of brothers before he can put his phone back in his pocket and he’s not strong enough to pretend he doesn’t want to hug them back.
“Did you find–”
“No, obviously not Levi, he just fucking got here.”
“Satan, now is not the time–”
“I’ll decide when the fucking time is, Asmo. Did you see what they did to our–”
“Yeah, I was sitting right next to you. You’re not the only one who’s upset–”
“Guys,” Lucifer raises his voice above their arguing. “Now is not the time.” He hands Diavolo his keys, grateful, for once, at his many attempts to bond with his brothers. “Will you please take them to the hospital? I have a brother to find.”
It doesn’t take him long to find Belphie, but it does take a toll on his knees.
“Belphegor.” He wonders how the youngest climbed on top of the press box without anyone noticing.
“The stadium lights are too bright,” Belphie says, “you can’t see the stars. They drown them out. It’s a bad omen, Lucifer.”
“Belphegor, please come back down.”
“I can’t see them, Lucifer.” His voice is thick with tears.
“They’re still there, Belphie. I promise.”
“We made them together, and I can’t see them.”
“If you come back down we can visit Beel and the two of you can find them together.” Diavolo’s Father help him, he is not climbing on top of that box to bring Belphie down himself.
“Promise?”
“On my life.”
The bad thing about the press box for the R.A.D. stadium, is that the ladder has rusted away. People never go on top of it to watch or film the game anymore because they started to use magic to get the good camera angles. The bad thing about the press box is that when Belphie makes to climb down he slips and has nothing to grab and lands on the concrete stadium seating with a snap that makes Lucifer’s stomach churn.
-
“I can’t believe you fell while getting down. That’s like, one hundred times easier than goin’ up.” Mammon is beside himself with laughter while he doodles on Belphie’s cast.
“Haha. Laugh it up Mammon. When I’m out of this thing, I’m going to break every bone in your body.” Mammon rolls his eyes at Belphie’s threat.
“The witches have used that one before. Try again.”
“What are you, a magic eight ball?”
“Reply hazy. Try again later.”
“You know,” Asmo says from his spot opposite Mammon, doodling on Beel’s cast, “it is kind of cool that you guys managed to break the same bone.”
“It’s because we’re twins.” Beel says, smiling brightly.
“Yeah,” Satan snorts, “or cause you’re both stupid.”
“I’m just glad you’re both okay,” Levi cuts in before Belphie and Satan can start in on each other.
“Indeed. Although, I believe it’s best that Fangol is heading into its off season.” Lucifer says, and there’s noises of agreement throughout the room.
—
It’s a simple fact of life that Lucifer doesn’t get sick. The Demon King is asleep, the Earth’s year is 365 (365.25) days long, the Crown Prince of the Devildom hates pickles, Michael is a massive loser, and Lucifer doesn’t get sick. He does not get sick or injured or cursed or hexed or anything of the sort because he does not have the time. Except. Except he is most definitely sick right now.
Belphie realized something was wrong when Lucifer didn’t come down for breakfast. He’s a stickler for meal times, always wanting them to share a meal together. Something about family and tradition and will you just do what I say for once that Belphie doesn’t care about or want to listen to. He comes to breakfast and dinner and lunch on the weekends anyway, because Beel does, not because Lucifer wants him to. So, when he looks up from his spot at the table, the cloth permanently drool stained despite the oldest’s best efforts, and watches all of his brothers leave except Lucifer, he gets confused.
“Beel,” he asks, tilting his head just so, “did Lucifer have a meeting today?” Usually he would tell them. Several times throughout the week if it was planned and then again in the morning before he leaves. He’s weird like that, he doesn’t like not knowing where everyone is. Belphie thinks he’s a control freak, even if he finds knowing his brother’s whereabouts comforting.
“No,” Beel says this around a mouthful of muffin, “I don’t think so.”
“Hmm. Well. I guess we’ll see him at school.”
-
They do not, in fact, see him at school. Mammon shares first period with him, which means he can never skip the first hour and a half of R.A.D. Except today, there’s no harsh pokes in his back whenever he starts to zone out, and there’s no pointed coughs when he pulls out his phone and starts playing games. He looks around and there’s no Lucifer.
Demon Brothers
Mams: ayo. where is. lucifer.
Catan: he’s not in class?
Mams: if he was I wouldn’t be askin.
Catan: the phone screen makes you bold, brother. watch yourself.
Mams: o7 aye aye cap’n.
Beel: Belphie says he wasn’t at breakfast either
Mams: is belphie’s phone broke???
Beel: he says typing is too much effort
Mams: understandable have a nice day
Asmo: o.o Lucifer not at breakfast? But he’s always weird when we miss it!
Catan: typical Lucifer hypocrisy
Levs: you know he can still read this chat right?
Catan: when has that ever stopped me -_-
Levs: you guys have hit like all of the Summoning Lucifer Bullet Points
Levs: 1. Mention his name fifty times
Levs: 2. Blow up his phone
Levs: 3. Text during class time
Levs: 4. Slander him at least once
Levs: 5. Ask about his private business/goings on
Beel: and yet
Mams: no Lucifer
-
The real header comes during the afternoon, when Lucifer doesn’t show up to the scheduled Student Council Meeting.
“Alrighty!” Diavolo says, chipper as ever, “when Lucifer gets here, we’ll start the meeting. He has all of the paperwork, anyway.”
So they wait. And they wait.
“Yo, dude,” Mammon calls to Diavolo and he turns his head, Barbatos coughs into his fist at the lack of formality. “I don’t think Lucifer is gonna show.”
“Yeah,” Belphie yawns, “he wasn’t in school today, either.”
“Or at breakfast, apparently.” Levi says, though it’s hard to hear him over the music of his game.
“That is. Odd. Is he still at home, then?” Diavolo pulls out his phone and starts texting.
“No use,” Asmo says, “we’ve been bothering him all day.”
“Privately and in the group chat,” Satan adds. “Though, he may not have opened my messages because they were all cursed.”
“He didn’t open mine either,” Beel says. “I think he’s just been off his phone.”
“Unusual,” Barbatos says, stepping out of his shadowy corner. “Perhaps something is amiss?”
“With Lucifer?” Asmo sounds incredulous, lowering his compact just long enough to arch an eyebrow at the butler before tapping more powder on his face. “Nothing is ever wrong with Lucifer.” Belphie yawns before nodding in agreement and adding his own two cents.
“Even when we curse him things aren’t wrong. He always manages to make it seem so … normal.”
“I remember that time his pants kept falling down,” Levi says. “I thought it would make him less intimidating. I was wrong.” He shudders. “Very wrong.”
“Then why isn’t he here?” Barbatos says, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Why does he do anythin’?” Mammon stands up as he says this, grabbing his bag and his phone and making his way towards the door. “Lucifer does what he wants and shows no remorse for it.” There’s a pause where he remembers the Fall. “Mosta the time.”
“Well, if we aren’t going to do anything,” Asmo’s compact shuts with a click, “I have people to do and things to see.”
“It’s ‘things to do and people to see’, Asmo,” Satan says, following his brothers out.
“I know what I said.”
Barbatos and Diavolo watch as the brothers leave, one by one, all citing different excuses before sharing a look.
“Is it rude to stop by people’s homes uninvited, Barbatos?” Diavolo asks, pushing his chair back.
“Yes. But in cases where Lucifer is concerned, manners and politeness have never stopped you, my Lord.” Barbatos follows behind the Prince, steps silent in contrast to the clacking of Diavolo’s shoes on the Academy’s stone floors. Diavolo’s laugh echoes throughout the hallway.
“I suppose you’re right. Come, I believe I must pay a visit to my right hand.”
“Always.”
-
The House is cold when Diavolo gets there. He can hear Beel rummaging in the kitchen, and Belphie’s soft snores accompanying him. He can hear Levi and Mammon fighting over something and he can hear the thud of books falling over in Satan’s room. He can hear Asmo because Asmo greets him when he enters.
“Oh, hey!” He waves excitedly, before pointing at his feet. “Which shoes do you think look better with this outfit?”
“I think they both look nice,” Diavolo replies and Asmo pouts.
“Not helpful.”
“The ones on your left, Asmodeus.” Barbatos’ eyes peer from behind Diavolo’s shoulder and Asmo smiles in response.
“Thanks! Hey,” he tugs the shoe on his right foot off and tosses it into a pile next to the door before grabbing his left foot’s twin from seemingly nowhere, “you guys didn’t see Solomon out there, did you?”
“I thought I told you that he isn’t allowed within twenty feet of the front door.” Lucifer’s normal baritone is raspy with sickness, vocal cords raw from coughing.
“He’s not going to be within twenty feet. He’s going to stand an inch outside of the barrier.” Asmo turns and places his hands on his brother’s shoulders, spinning him around and pushing him back towards the living room. “I also thought I told you to lie down and sleep. I suppose we both aren’t good at listening, hmm?” Lucifer grumbles at him despite following Asmo’s guidance to the couch.
“I heard the door open.” Diavolo follows the duo towards the living room, Barbatos his ever present shadow.
“There are six other people who can answer it.” He watches as Asmo pushes Lucifer into a sitting position and shoves blankets around him.
“That’s what I worry about.” Asmo rolls his eyes.
“Stop being a baby and just lay down. How can you catch Mammon and string him up by his toenails if you can’t go a second without coughing?”
“I can,” Lucifer pauses to cough, “I can take any one of you down, even in this weakened state.”
There’s a snort from the entrance to the kitchen as the twins walk in, Beel carrying soup and Belphie carrying nothing.
“You couldn’t block even the lowest level curse from Satan at this rate.” Belphie says, curling up on the couch next to Lucifer and resting his head on his lap.
“I could–”
“You’re very strong, Lucifer,” Asmo placates, patting his older brother’s head condescendingly. “Now, eat your soup and shut up. I have a date to get to and I’m running late.”
“Maybe I should cough on you so you can’t go anymore.” The threat is empty, but Asmo’s smile still sharpens in response.
“Maybe I should take a seam ripper to all of your clothes,” he turns on his heel. “Oh, also. Diavolo is here.” The responding squawk Lucifer lets out sends him into another coughing fit, one that disrupts the sleeping Belphie on his lap.
“My Lord,” Lucifer makes to get up and is physically yanked back down by Belphie, “I apologize for not greeting you earlier.”
“No worries! You didn’t show up to the meeting today, and you weren’t answering your phone, so I stopped by to see how you were.” Diavolo gestures to the bottles of cold medicine on the coffee table and the bowl of soup being shoved at Lucifer by Beel. “It seems you are all taken care of.”
“Indeed. I appreciate your concern–”
“Beel, Lucifer’s boyfriend was worried about him. Isn’t that sweet?” Beel nods at Belphie’s joke, resting his head against the side of Lucifer’s knee from his newly acquired spot on the floor.
“The sweetest. Someone tell Asmo he’s being beaten in the best boyfriend competition.” There’s twin thunks as Lucifer smacks the both of them on the head, face now flushed with something other than fever.
“That’s enough out of you two.” He sighs and looks back up at Diavolo and Barbatos. “Would the two of you like to stay for dinner? Satan’s in charge tonight and he likely won’t poison it since I’m too ill to eat much of anything.”
“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Diavolo sits in an empty armchair that he thinks is Lucifer’s regular seat when his phone buzzes.
Emergency Chat ONLY
Belphie: hey satan, lucifer’s boyfriend is staying for dinner
Catan: man. now I can’t put this human world poison I found in it.
Belphie: probably wouldn’t work anyway
Beel: Barbatos is also staying
Belphie: my apologies Beel. you’re right
Belphie: lucifer’s boyfriendS are staying for dinner
Levs: this is great
Levs: I wanted to talk to Diavolo about the new chapter of the manga we’re reading
Mams: the rule is no loser talk at the dinner table
Levs: why do you open your mouth so much then
Mams: i’m gonna fucken get you
Asmo: if Lucifer gets to bring his boyfriends why can’t i bring Solomon
Catan: because Solomon sucks.
Catan: actually
Catan: would Solomon be able to con a fever high Lucifer into a pact
Mams: the downside here is that Solomon would be at dinner
Beel: I’d lose my appetite
Asmo: he’s not that bad
Asmo: and don’t lie Beel
Asmo: we aren’t going to let him cook
Asmo: we aren’t stupid
Lucifer: This chat is for emergencies only.
Belphie: i know. that’s why we’re discussing dinner
Lucifer: If I see Solomon anywhere near the House I will find a way to reverse his immortality.
Catan: wear a blindfold
Asmo: kinky
Catan: freak
Lucifer: I believe I also told you to stop referring to Diavolo and Barbatos as my boyfriends.
Mams: sucks 2 suck
Levs: L moment
Lucifer: I also believe they are in this chat.
Belphie: i know. that’s why we’re discussing dinner.
Belphie: keep up old man
Lucifer: I will remind you that you’re laying in my lap.
Belphie: what’re you gonna do
Belphie: cough on me??
Levs: chat, clip this
Mams: what was that scream???
Diavolo: Belphegor.
Barbs: Lucifer did more than just ���cough on him.”
Mams: oh damn.
Mams: so what’s for dinner
Beel: Lucifer says Belphegor stew
Mams: I thought it was Satan’s turn to cook????????
Catan: lucifer just tried to shove belphie in the oven.
Barbatos: With no seasoning? How revolting.
Diavolo: Demons taste better fried, anyway.
Mams: PARDON???
#my inability to leave anyone out will kill me because tagging this is so hard#obey me shall we date#should I tag nightbringer too?? nah I won't#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me asmodeus#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphie#obey me belphegor#should I tag dia and barb even though they aren't centered??#no that's sick and twisted#obey me fanfic#obey me fanfiction#obey me brotherly bonding#bee writes
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♡. Stuck by the glue🎐🍃🌧
Pairing: literature student Wonwoo × literature student gn reader. (University au) ( edit: though I have mentioned "she/her" pronouns once. Sorry about that 😭)
Genre: fluff, lots of fluff and bit of crack lol, established relationship, there's lots of kissing | Word count: 1.5k [ik I went overboard lol] | MASTER LIST
Song rec: tip toe by hybs // glue song by beabadoobee ft clairo // love scene by baekhyun [yes title is inspired by the glue song]
Warning: there's lots of kissing ? And Wonwoo rides a bike.
Summary: you were at your boyfriend's place. you were bored and Wonwoo is reading. So Wonwoo came up with the idea of taking you to a bookstore he came across few days back
Note: here's some oddly specific details🍃 reader is tall but shorter than Wonwoo and wears glasses and even if you dont wear glases that is also okay (This is for all my tall glass girlies and gays out there because I'm one of them as well)
Taglist: @hongmingo , @shuabby1994 , @unlikelysublimekryptonite , @asyre , @yumiyumis-blog @soobunsbun , @nishloves , @aaniag , @sikuthealien , @jespecially , @thepoopdokyeomtouched (girlie lemme know if you were in my taglist 😭 because I've lost track of it😭)
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A nice pleasant Sunday afternoon. You came over to Wonwoo's apartment for lunch. You both don't live too far away, barely ten minutes away from each other. After lunch you laid on one side, on the sofa, your head resting on Wonwoo's lap. You were going through random shows on TV. One of Wonwoo's hands was caressing your hair while the other held a book he was reading. To be more accurate, going through the reading material suggested by their professor in class. You were bored. Not because of Wonwoo nor the random tv show displayed in front of you. Wonwoo did notice that. "Are you okay? Or you're bored? Which one?"
"Jeon Wonwoo am I that transparent-" you turned to look at him, your lips pressed in a thin line.
"Well maybe anyone can figure that out because you are going through random tv shows without actually watching them" He said while squeezing your cheeks.
"Okay then what about the book you're reading? Is it doing any better?" You said.
"I am particularly not liking it at all and reading it for the sake of my degree" He said with a forced smile really did explain that he was suffering.
"Wow okay, things we go through as literature students huh, even I hated some reading material from the previous semester. I swear to God they were so sexist and insufferable I don't even want to talk about those anymore" You said mulling over that for a few moments.
"Yeah exactly but I was asking if you're bored baby" He had a soft smile on his lips clearly because he saw that you got distracted from what he asked you previously. You were flustered about the fact that you went a bit off topic.
"Umm well yes I am and what will you do about that?"
"Hmmm lemme think…" he paused to think and then continued "we can go to a bookstore? there's a new one I came across, it also sells second hand books which are cheap"
"What-" you were always over the moon whenever you went book shopping with your boyfriend. "Oh yes we are going to the bookstore now!!"you exclaimed in sheer excitement. One thing Wonwoo knew is that you loved books and anything related to books. Bookstores had a special place in your heart, his too since that's how both meet. In a bookstore. Nearby your university. On a busy rainy monday afternoon.
"Alright sweetheart, wear your shoes and cardigan, I'll go get changed okay?" He said and then pressed a kiss on your cheek. You nodded and then started getting ready and fixed your hair too.
Wonwoo came out of his room after a few minutes in a sap green hoodie and wide legged jeans and… riding gloves?
He walked up to you. "So I'm guessing you're ready let's goo then"
"Umm baby are you gonna give me a ride as well?" you looked at his gloves and then raised your eyebrows.
"What kinda ride exactly are you talking about baby?" Wonwoo smirked.
"Eyyyy shut up you dirty minded weirdo I'm talking about the gloves you're wearing" you smacked his arm while the blush on your cheeks were becoming even more evident.
"Well yes love I'm gonna give you a ride to the bookstore because it's a little far away" Wonwoo squished your cheeks with both of his hands and planted a peck on your lips. You both put on your shoes and walked out of his apartment. Wonwoo locked the door and handed you your helmet. Wonwoo riding a bike was your favorite genre of Wonwoo. You found that really attractive of him for some reason. You also remember him, giving you a ride to your home because it was raining and you weren't carrying an umbrella. As cliche as it sounds like a scene from romantic dramas, that was the first ever time you saw him riding a bike and giving you a ride as well. You liked that feeling of holding someone close and resting your chin on their shoulder. And that someone became Wonwoo.
When you both reached the bookstore you saw it's an old bookstore and is a little dilapidated but it had its own beauty in its way.
"It's quite an old one, you know. I came across this a few days back while the night out with the guys" he said.
"Oh ohhh I see"
You both entered the bookstore and were greeted by an old man.
"Ahh we have a young couple as customers today! Good afternoon to you both. New books are on the ground floor, the second hand ones are upstairs" the old man may have aged a lot but he seemed to be very cheerful for his age which you really liked.
"Good afternoon grandpa and thank you" You both greeted him and went inside the bookstore. You felt a hand around your waist.
"We really do give off couple vibes huh"
"Yes honey we do! now coming to the point on what books we wanna buy"
"I'll guessing it's either a horror or a romantic one"
"No, I mean well yes that would differ if there's any book which grabs my attention and you're gonna follow me and hold the books" you smiled and if anything that made his heart melt.
"Why is she so cute, so enthusiastic about her interests, god I love her so much" He thought to himself.
"Wonu back to earth are you even listening?" You raised an eyebrow.
"Yes I got it I heard what you said" He said.
You both started looking through the romance section first but didn't end up finding anything much interesting. Then you both went through the crime and thriller. It's like that's where the magic happens.
"Wonu wonu! Isn't this the locked room mystery novel you were searching for?" You held a book named "The Village of Eight Murders" by Seishi Yokomizo.
"Oh yess I was. There's also a fourth book, the last book of the series The Inugami Curse" He said and then took the book from your hand going through the pages.
"Found it!" You said after finding the fourth book. He raised his eyebrows and looked at you. "So are we.." you cut him off mid sentence "we're taking these two, hold them baby" you were happy to finally found the book he was searching for. He was happy too.
"Wonwoo?" you called him by his name, your voice was soft.
"Yes love" He said, his fingers still going over the titles of each book on the shelf he's looking through. You turned and looked at him.
"I wanna go upstairs" you said.
"Hmm alright let's go" he said while a soft smile lingered on his lips.
While going upstairs y'all heard the rain suddenly started pouring down.
"See I told you it will rain tomorrow around this time, now I want my kiss baby" Wonwoo said grinning.
"Nope you aren't getting any right now especially not when we are here standing inside a bookstore" You said with a playful smile on your face. The books upstairs were second hand books so it was common to come across the one's which might have damaged covers too. Wonwoo picked out a book for you.
"y/n isn't this the book you were talking about yesterday? Its cover is slightly torn though" Wonwoo handed you the book. It was "The Remains of the Day" by Kazuo Ishiguro.
"Oh my God yesss! I'll buy this and we can glue that part you know" you said looking at the torn cover of the book he was holding.
"Yeah it's like how books helped me glue to you and we ended up in a relationship"
"My my aren't you being so cheesy for someone who's standing in the fiction aisle with me" You gave him a coy look and then went back searching through the shelf of books.
"Well then love what about kissing in the bookshops as well, like they do in the romance books"
A blush crept your cheeks and ears. You turned to look at him. He smiled looking at your flustered face, his eyes traveling back and forth on your eyes and then your lips.
"Since when did you become so romantic-" your sentence was cut off by him putting his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to the side slowly. And then he pressed his lips against yours. A soft and warm kiss in the middle of a crispy old bookshop while the euphonious sound of the rain drizzling played outside. He pulled away shortly after but you chased for his lip even more.
"I always was and you're cute when you want more you know" he whispered, his cheeks slightly flushed now as well.
"Yes of course you are" you mumbled and pouted.
"We should check out these books, you know" you said.
"Yes love we will but let's just stay here until the rain slacks off" Wonwoo said as he took you by your hand and made your way to the couch placed on the right side of the room.
"Till then we'll sit here okay?" Wonwoo made himself comfortable sitting beside you.
"Yeah you're right" You said leaning on his shoulder.
Let's just say,he made your day a lot better than before.
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A/n: my exams are finally over so yes I'm back and I'll write more ig. A lotta drafts are piled up literally. Also feedbacks and reblogs are really appreciated. I have proofread once but lemme know if there's any grammatical errors.
ALSO YES I WAS LITERALLY GIVING Y'ALL BOOK RECS THROUGH THIS CUZ DUH I'M AN ENGLISH MAJOR TOO.
#seventeen#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fic#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fluff#wonwoo#jeon wonwoo#jeon wonwoo fluff#wonwoo fluff#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo x you#svt fanfic#svt scenarios#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt wonwoo#svt hip hop unit
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you're not jonathan
for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'no upside down au' rated t wc: 997 cw: recreational drug use, language tags: meet-ugly turned meet-cute, flirting, somewhat ambiguous ending but we all know what's gonna happen
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Steve was not supposed to be the one picking up the drugs for the party.
He wasn't even going to the party.
But Jonathan couldn't get it from his usual guy, said he was back home in California for the summer, and it wasn't like Robin had a hookup.
Eddie Munson didn't technically deal anymore, but he made exceptions for previous customers, and Jonathan had been a regular during high school.
It wasn't shocking news to Steve, but what was shocking was hearing all these stories about how Eddie didn't even usually meet someone during daylight hours. Except today, apparently.
Steve tripped over another branch, barely caught himself before falling on his face.
"I better get so high off this shit," he said to himself.
"I only sell the good shit."
Steve froze.
Somehow, he'd missed a person walking up to him, probably when he nearly ate dirt.
"Is there any reason a hike is required to get some weed?" Steve asked, brushing his hands on his pants to get the remnants of the tree trunk he saved himself on.
Eddie crossed his arms in front of him, raising an unimpressed brow.
"No. Jonathan suggested the place."
Hard to believe the guy who hated being outside for more than a few minutes would have suggested a half mile trek into the woods, but Steve didn't really care to argue.
"O...kay. Well, I've got the cash if you wanna get this over with," Steve said as he reached into his pockets that were..."Fuck."
He started patting his pockets, his shirt, looking around him at the ground to try to find his wallet.
"Everything okay?" Eddie asked, coming closer.
"I lost my wallet. Shit!"
"Alright, I can help you look, man. It's not a big deal. Gotta be somewhere, right?" Eddie started looking around him, though it was half-hearted at best. "What's it look like?"
"It's brown. Um, leather?" Steve suddenly forgot any other details about his wallet. How convenient.
"Okay, so the color of the ground. Should be easy."
Steve snorted.
Eddie was smirking as he walked the way Steve came, checking the ground around him as he did so.
Steve followed behind, but he was pretty certain they wouldn't find it.
After ten minutes of looking, Eddie sighed.
"We should just smoke a bit. Take the edge off. Ya know?"
"I don't think that's a good idea. I can't pay you until I find my wallet," Steve said as he continued looking, bending down to get a closer look at a spot that seemed like the color of his wallet.
"On the house."
Steve stood straight up.
"Really?"
"Can't really kick ya when you're down, can I? Plus, I planned on smoking after you left anyway. We can share," Eddie shrugged, like it was no big deal.
Steve had never gotten high outside of house parties, the comfort of his own home or a friend's home soothing his anxieties about losing his inhibitions.
But out here? With Eddie? It didn't seem like a smart thing to do.
"Alright," Steve shrugged back.
Eddie must have sensed something about him, though, because he didn't let him take more than three puffs of the joint before he put it out and found a collection of boulders for them to sit on.
"You ever think about how trees are alive but they don't have ears?" Steve asked a minute later.
"Oh, you're that kind of high." Eddie poked his hand, making him look over at him. "You eat today?"
"Maybe. I've been busy. Do you think trees get hungry?" Steve replied.
Eddie searched his face before letting his pinky rest against Steve's hand on the rock.
It felt like fire.
"They do."
"But they don't have pancakes or cheeseburgers. Like, we can't grind it up and put it in the dirt for them, right?" Steve's jaw dropped. "Can we?"
Eddie watched as Steve looked over at some of the trees surrounding them.
"I don't think we can, no."
"A shame. They're missin' out. You know who else is missin' out? Jonathan! He made me come here and he didn't even tell me you had long hair or like the nicest eyelashes. Which is weird because he didn't shut up about anything else about you but he forgot about the eyelashes!" Steve's hand curled around Eddie's pinky. "And you look warm."
Eddie's brows raised.
He wasn't sure who Steve was. Jonathan had just insisted he was cool.
But Jonathan hadn't mentioned that his hair looked softer than silk, or that his eyes were wide and innocent despite his lip curling up in the corner in annoyance.
Jonathan seemed to have left a lot of things out.
"Well, it is summer. It's pretty warm," Eddie gulped. "But you do look a little cold."
"I get cold easy. Robin says it's because I don't eat enough red meat or something. Low irony or something."
Eddie was so endeared.
"I could help you stay warm? Walk you back to your car if you want?"
Eddie did not want that, but he knew Steve probably needed to walk off some of this high before his friends started to worry about him.
"Don't wanna walk," Steve leaned his head on Eddie's shoulder. "My head is walking."
"Should I try to head back and get one of your friends?"
Steve shook his head.
"Be fine in an hour."
"Okay," Eddie put his arm around Steve's shoulder, surprised to find that Steve was shivering. "Hey, you okay?"
"You do have good shit."
"That's not an answer," Eddie chuckled.
"I'm good. Best."
Eddie let him burrow further into his side and waited for his shivering to subside before he suggested heading back to his car again.
Steve still refused, and Eddie didn't have it in him to push.
Not when they were finding shapes in the clouds and he was holding Steve close.
He'd definitely owe Jonathan a lot of product if this went the way he wanted it to.
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hi, i'm fourteen and i have this friend who asked me if i wanted to try eating her out. not a girlfriend, a friend. i don't have any feelings for her but i do think she's gorgeous and she's probably the best friend i have and the most mature 14 year old i know. i trust her a lot. im definitely not opposed to trying to give her head, either. i'm just worried it might be a bad idea, and i'm anxious that i won't do it right and she won't even feel good. i definitely don't want to have sex this early but does giving someone else head even count as real sex? she wouldn't really be touching me at all, except for she did say she'd want us to make out before i did it, though i'm not entirely sure why, but i am okay with it. i'm also worried about, like, STDs, because i've never been with another person like... sexually, i've kissed other people but i haven't in a while. but i think she might have done stuff with people? i don't know how recently. like... i don't know, do you think this is a really bad idea and we're too young or is this fine? how do you even eat someone out, like, what do you do? sorry if this is annoying i just really need an adult to ask about this and it's not like i can ask my parents since i'm not really supposed to do this.
hi anon,
thank you for asking! I'm really grateful to be an adult that you trust enough to talk with about stuff like this. it's not annoying, and I'll do the best I can to give a helpful answer based on everything you've told me.
I think maybe, in your case, this might not be a great idea right now. it sounds like there's a lot about this situation that makes you nervous in a way that's not fun - the kind of nerves that come from being excited to connect with a new person are one thing, but I'm hearing much more anxiety than excitement in the way you're talking about this.
oral sex (using your mouth) definitely counts as real sex - it's definitely not just putting a penis in a vagina! - and can be just as intimate and emotionally complicated as any other kind of sexual expression. you said you don't want to be having sex at your age - which is totally normal, and completely your choice to make! - and that includes oral sex as well, so maybe it's best if you sit this one out for the time being.
I want to be super clear that I'm not saying this out of any sense that no people your age should be sexual; I think wanted sexual exploration between young teens can be a great way to start exploring sexuality and finding what feels good! but that doesn't mean that every teenager has to be having sex, or that they're immature if they don't. people are ready to explore sex at lots of different ages (and some people never do at all), and none of them are weird or wrong. you could feel totally different in ten years, one year, a month, or even a week, but right now you don't feel ready, and what you feel right now is what's most important.
holding off until you've had time to learn more about sex may also help, because every situation is less scary when you feel more prepared. (it's why they make you spend so many godforsaken hours practicing driving before you can take the test to get your license.) in the spirit of learning, I want to share some resources about some of the things you had questions/concerns about.
this page on Planned Parenthood's website talks about lots of different kinds of sexually transmitted infections (STIs, also frequently called sexually transmitted diseases, or STDs), including how they're spread and how to treat them. I don't want to make STIs sound scary - I recently wrote a whole post about how they really shouldn't be! - but because it is important to know what risks there are if you plan to be sexually active so that you can do your best to minimize those risks, and what to do if someone does catch an STI. an important thing to remember is that, at your age, it might be difficult for you or your friend to get tested for STIs without help from your parents, which may be awkward and unpleasant or totally impossible if you're unable to tell them why you need a test in the first place. that's an important factor in deciding whether or not to have sex!
additionally, here's some info about dental dams, which are basically condoms for oral sex - they're a flat piece of latex, like a condom that got rolled out, that goes between the mouth and the hole.
and to help with your question about how going down even works, I recommend this video by sexologist Dr. Lindsey Doe. you won't be seeing any real genitals in this video, although there is a drawing and some nude Barbies, and you'll probably want to listen with headphones unless you're alone. there are also links to more of Dr. Doe's videos on the topic.
and lastly, for more thinking about this topic, I want to direct you to Scarleteen's answer to help figure out when you're ready to start having sex, which is very good on its own and has links to some other good reading on the topic. Scarleteen is a great resource specifically designed and run to help answer teenagers' questions about sex without judgment, and I recommend them very heavily.
I hope that this has been useful, and helps you feel empowered to make whatever decision is best for you.
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I have been thirty for a few months. I never thought I'd make it, truly. I had no plans beyond twenty. I'm a high school drop out with various disabilities, I'm not conventionally 'attractive', I've never had many friends and my support network has failed me several times. And the idea of making plans, after a trail of failures and let-downs (both of myself and others), only filled me with dread. I have to take care of so much. I have my blessings, of course, but not without my own troubles. I have never been on a date, I've never been kissed even though I do want that. I've had to make the decision between bills and feeding myself. I've watched everyone around me fade away or leave. This, however, will pass. This time, in ten years, I'll have been forty for a few months. In twenty, I'll be fifty. And I can see myself being those ages. This year, I planted flowers for the first time and I've watched them grow. I've started reading after years of being told I am too stupid to understand things or that having joys won't make me successful. I've made new friends. I even repaired the strained relationship with my parents, something I never thought I'd be able to do. My life isn't going to be plastered on a big screen or be a bestseller but I don't need it to be. If I never marry or I die alone with no one, I don't think I'll regret it because I'll have myself. My thirties, I realize, are my gift to myself to know love and be loved by myself. Like I ... was the one who grew those flowers that made me happy because I know flowers make me happy, I chose to read the books I love because I know that they will make me happy, I choose to find my little joys instead of the joys others have expected of me. I'll get myself to forty, fifty, maybe even a hundred! I'll continue to give myself little joys because right now that is what is making me happy. That may change at forty! At fifty, a hundred, I don't know! I believe, however, I would like to find out ... and that is something I never would have said at twenty. I don't know if I will make it because as my farmer of a grandfather would say, "You have no idea what a year will bring." And you don't, there is no way to predict what the year, the month, or even tomorrow will bring, but you plant the seeds anyway. You plant them and take care of them as though you know they get to full ripeness and harvest. That process, I've learned for myself, is how I've found love. I just plant the seed today. I may or may not have flowers tomorrow but knowing that I may is enough for me to want to see.
.
#ask#Anonymous#i can add nothing to this anon i dont want to add anything it will just derail the beauty of everything you just wrote and truly....#thank you for taking the time to write and share this and i wish nothing but the most beautiful and comforting moments to meet you#as you move through your thirties and beyond#i hope each year proves to be a gift to yourself from the bottom of my heart i do#the road is long and we have time
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POTA Caesar x reader - turning Page Part 1
It's been far too long since I've seen the films! It's time to change that! I hope you like the story anyway. And I have no idea how many parts this story will have. Maybe 2-3?
Warnings: sfw, very slight closeness, friends to lovers, slight angst, slow burn - english is not my native language
Content: You were Will's cousin and lived with him. You and Caesar grew up together and loved playing together. But you got older, feelings changed, just like events in the world.
German Version
When you heard the news from Will that he had rescued a baby chimpanzee, you almost died of curiosity. You really wanted to see the baby!
You were downstairs at the front door so quickly and pulled it open before Will could even think about putting his keys on.
"Where is he?" you asked hastily and Will laughed, then you noticed the box in Will's hands.
"Is it in there?" you were about to look for yourself, but Will just managed to block you and shook his head in amusement.
"Take it easy, (Y/n). Let me come in first, then I can introduce you to him."
Him? So he was a boy, you thought to yourself and followed Will into the kitchen. Your eyes followed the action excitedly. Then finally Will opened the box and a little chimpanzee appeared, blinking at Will and you with curious golden-green eyes.
You almost fainted at the sight of the baby. He was so cute! Carefully, the little one stretched out his tiny hands and with wide eyes you pushed your finger towards him. He accepted it gratefully.
"He's really cute! Is he going to stay?" you asked and Will nodded: "For now, yes. I couldn't possibly leave him in the lab." You nodded understandingly and didn't take your eyes off the little monkey.
"What's his name?" you asked and Will shrugged.
"Caesar," Will smiled and you looked at the little Ape with big kid eyes.
"Hello Caesar!"
It was amusing to watch Will trying to be a surrogate mother to little Caesar. You tried to help as much as you could, even though you were only ten years old. Still, you tried to help and take care of Charles, well at least you tried to talk to him and play games with Charles. But his Alzheimer's didn't get any better.
You felt so sorry for him and it seemed like it was getting worse every day. But you had no idea about the plans Will was making, you didn't even know what exactly was going on with Caesar and what the researchers in the lab were doing with the Apes, maybe you were just too young at the time to understand. You had fallen too much in love with the young Ape that you cared for so much that you only had thoughts for him. He was growing so fast and learning so quickly. It fascinated you.
With a heavy snort, Caesar let his breath slide against your neck. You giggled. You had just been playing tag, but Caesar was much faster than you.
"Stop it Caesar, it tickles!" the little monkey made happy noises. You sat with him at the dinner table. He was so clever, he had already understood how to drink from a bottle of milk when he was only one day old. Now he was nibbling on a few apples and looking at you with shining eyes.
Three years later, Caesar had learned to use the toilet. Which surprised and amused you at the same time. He got cheekier and started teasing you by breathing against your neck. He knew it tickled you. But then you had your moments where you tried to beat each other at chess.
He was always one step ahead of you, he always won. And sometimes, when you were lucky enough to win, you could see something in his eyes. Something mischievous, but also something gentle. He let you win on purpose. You really had the feeling that you were sitting in front of a human and not a monkey.
Will did tests with Caesar in between. He was just as fascinated by his intelligence and wanted to test it. You looked at the whole thing with a critical eye, because you saw from Will how the monkeys were treated in the laboratory and also how Caesar's mother Bright Eyes was killed. The monkeys were not seen as living beings, but as guinea pigs.
"This time I win," you growl, sitting opposite the monkey who looks at you mischievously. You had another game of chess and this time you thought you would finally win. You made your move and were so close to winning, but your hopes were dashed when Caesar made his move. Your mouth fell open and you almost fell off your chair.
"You've won again?" you shouted in disbelief and hit your forehead on the tabletop, not too hard of course. This monkey had now beaten you for the fifth time in an hour. He was so quick with his moves, while you took a little longer. Caesar grunted in amusement and you looked at him in offense. He was making fun of you, great.
Soon Will's girlfriend Caroline joined us. She had helped you with Caesar, she really knew a lot as she was a vet. You went for a walk together in the park with Caesar, Charles and Will. The young monkey really blossomed when he was out in nature and he wasn't even afraid of dogs. You soon found that out when Caesar snarled and stood up to a German shepherd who didn't even know what was happening.
Caroline and you got on really well and you were also glad that you were finally not the only woman in this male household. You were no longer a child but a teenager, your body was changing and so were your moods. As a result, you were more easily annoyed by Caesar's games. He had got into the habit of teasing you and testing your limits. But you couldn't blame him, after all he was getting older too and entering a kind of puberty.
Still, he was gentle with you, he had never hurt you before. His every touch was deliberate and controlled, he could well appreciate that his strength was so far above yours that he could kill you with ease. Of course he didn't want that. He liked you, you had grown up together and you were family to him.
It was another one of those days when you were sitting in the garden reading a book in the evening when everything was quiet. You were far too focused on the book that you didn't notice the shadow in the neighboring trees and how it dropped to the ground with ease. Soft footsteps came closer to you and suddenly someone breathed gently on the back of your neck. Startled, you dropped your book and pinched your neck where you felt the breath so Caesar wouldn't have a chance to do it again.
You giggled and gave him an offended look. Wait a minute! You got up and walked towards him. You tried to tickle him too, but Caesar was quicker and dodged your hand. He liked this game. Caesar was faster than you and before you knew it, he grabbed you by the hips and pushed you against him. His green-gold eyes met yours and there was silence for a few seconds. You just looked at each other.
His eyes fascinated you, they looked so human and yet different. Those golden speckles in his eyes glowed and you only noticed it now. His hard chest was warm against yours and he too seemed lost in your eyes. His gaze was equally pensive.
"Caesar," his name came through to him and he liked the sound of you pronouncing each letter. Your scent wafted into his nostrils and he breathed in and out deeply. He knew that these feelings were only arising because he was changing physically. At least Will had explained to him that he could be going through a kind of puberty, much like humans. Was that why he saw you a fraction differently than he had the years before?
The barking of a neighborhood dog snapped you out of your thoughts and Caesar's grip loosened, but it took ages. Your pulse beat against your neck and his eyes fixed on him. He only now saw how soft and fragile your skin seemed and how easily he could break through it with his sharp canines. He had never noticed it when he was younger. He had seen you differently and now. You've changed, you've grown up and… He shook his head quickly and turned away, disappearing into his room.
You looked after him, puzzled. But he left you with a comforting warmth that frightened you.
But that evening was just the calm before the storm.
You watched Will's car drive away with tears in your eyes. He and Caroline had taken Caesar and they had just left you behind. They knew you were just trying to free Caesar and now they were taking him to a monkey house. You slumped on the floor crying, holding one of Caesar's T-shirts in your hands. It still smelled like him. He really did have a pleasant scent.
You closed your eyes, then you made a decision. Days later, you secretly grabbed Will's car keys and took his car. You drove to the monkey house where Caesar was supposed to be living now.
The blond guy who took you to him wasn't exactly sympathetic and you scowled at him as he stared at your neckline. Still, he had taken you to Caesar's, but it had cost you the last of your cash, which you had to hand over to this idiot to get him to take you to Caesar's.
When you arrived at Caesar's cage, you froze. He was sitting in the corner, his gaze fixed silently on the wall. You stepped closer to the bars and gripped the cold metal with your trembling hands.
"Caesar, I'm here," you spoke softly, hoping it would calm him down a little. When the monkey heard your words, he immediately jumped up and walked quickly towards you. He didn't take his eyes off yours for a second. Your hand slipped through the bars and gently stroked his cheek. His head leaned into your touch and you felt the tears gathering in them. He looked so exhausted, but you could see how the fire in them hadn't gone out yet.
"I'm so sorry," you breathed and a tear escaped your eye. His big thumb gently stroked it away and his eyes looked at you with affection.
"Not your fault. Caesar, was bad," he gestured and you immediately shook your head and contradicted him: "You are not a bad monkey, Caesar! You are the gentlest and kindest monkey I have ever met!" Again a tear rolled down your cheek and again the chimpanzee wiped it away. He was just trying to protect his family when this neighbor just couldn't control himself. Nobody wanted that to happen.
'You have to go,' grunted the monkey. He didn't want you to stay in this horrible place any longer, "I'll be fine," he gestured further. He saw the struggle in your watery eyes and that you were already thinking of a plan to get him out of there, but he didn't want to. He would find a way himself.
"I love you, Caesar. Don't forget that," you whispered and stroked the soft fur on his face again. You were the only one allowed to touch him there and he enjoyed that touch, and what he enjoyed even more were your words, even if he couldn't fully appreciate what you meant.
"Caesar loves you too, (Y/n)."
A few years had passed. The virus had taken everything from you. Will, your family, everyone. You had escaped when people went crazy. They started fighting for things, be it food or places to sleep. You were scared and didn't want to stay in the city any longer. You packed up what you needed and disappeared into the forest. The only place that was safer than the city.
As on many nights before, you sat by the fire and stared into the flames. You thought about the past and especially about Caesar. There wasn't a day when you didn't think about the monkey and you wondered what had become of him. The loneliness consumed you more and more with each passing day and your fear grew. The forest was dangerous and you were mostly lucky that no bear had caught you yet.
You survived by eating berries, although you had bad experiences with some of them. Some of the ones you found were poisonous and made you throw up quite badly afterwards. That was the last time you picked those particular varieties.
You sighed and rubbed your eyes against your forearm as you rested your face on your arms. Suddenly there was a crack in the undergrowth and you tensed, then the earth began to shake. Confused, you stood up, what was going on?
You looked around in panic as the first deer came towards you and with a wobbly leap you jumped to the side to avoid landing under the animal's hard hooves.
A few seconds later, more came. It was a mass panic that was triggered and it forced you to run. Your heart pounding, you ran through the undergrowth, hoping not to be trampled to death by the herd.
What had happened? What had startled the animals so much? You almost tripped over a root, but you quickly managed to catch yourself and keep running. But you almost missed the next danger ahead of you, a ravine. You wanted to stop, but one of the big deer crashed into you and you were thrown down with a scream.
You hit a rocky outcrop with a hard thud. Pain shot through you like a bolt of lightning and your head rumbled. Every movement burned and you were afraid to move, you didn't know if anything was broken. You tried to stay calm, breathing heavily.
"Take it easy, (Y/n). It's going to be okay," you tried to tell yourself, but you could feel how much of a lie it was and tears gathered in your eyes, you sobbed.
"Caesar…" came out of your mouth subconsciously and images from the past flashed up again and an arm with dark fur. He came towards you as if in slow motion. He looked so real. Your brows drew together and you stretched out your arm too.
Suddenly the arm sped up and in a flash the large, rough hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you upwards, followed by another hand. A cry of pain escaped your throat as your body began to burn again. You were laid down on the floor and your eyes blacked out for a moment.
A dark shadow hovered over you and green-gold eyes looked down at you, worried but critical. Rough hands scanned your body for injuries and a hissing sound came from your lungs.
Then you opened your eyes, the blurry outline above you becoming clearer and clearer until you could make it out. Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes widened.
"Caesar?…"
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Sometimes we get onto the idea of Obi Wan being attached(tm) to Anakin. Him just not killing Anakin is the usual suspect. There's also the way his grief held him down for ten years in the show. That was fun.
My personal pet agenda is the various conversations in tcw Obi Wan and Anakin have about the general idea of padawans who leave the order. They take on a weird tone at times. Especially that one in the deleted utapau arc. To be harsh: Obi Wan doesn't quite say it directly, but arguably conveys the vibe that leaving the Order would be wrong and disappointing.
Which is not good, in my opinion!
I don't think this (which you can take as an interpretation, it's been a while since I've actually watched the scenes now) is some sort of deliberate manipulation on his part. I suspect that he's fallen into a common pitfall of parents and teachers: wanting too much for your child or student to succeed. This is what makes attachment(tm) a culprit. He made a promise to Qui Gon. He made a commitment to Anakin. He took a risk by insisting on his training. And on top of all that, he really likes having Anakin around. It's easy to think that he just wanted what was best for him. What a happy coincidence that what's best for Anakin has also become necessary to his own sense of self and what makes him happy. Right?
(I really did find the vibe of their tcw conversations about these things off)
But that's just the cartoon. In the movie- Well, in the movie, he mostly just makes a comment about Anakin's crush (which was just a crush at the time) and later is aware he's two-timing him with Padme (sorry, couldn't resist), but just sort of decides to not talk about it with him because everyone is happier that way. We know he made an important promise, and we know he was happiest with Anakin by his side.
So not so much. But it meshes well enough, for him to have avoided the idea of having to let Anakin go, for him to not take the path he was training him for.
One last thing: this is barely relevant. I mean it's an interesting character detail, for sure. It's a layer to their relationship that's fun to think about. But it's unnecessary, in a way. For one thing, Anakin did want to be a jedi- he wanted more, and he was conflicted about things, but Obi Wan maybe being a little bit clingy about this one thing wasn't the reason for him sticking around. He had his own reasons too. Secondly, while they might have been more honest with each other if Anakin had decided to leave the Order to be openly married and start a family… Palpatine would still exist, and would still want to take him as an apprentice. Anakin would still have issues of his own that would drive him to fall.
So this interpretation probably doesn't change the outcome. It's just for fun.
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Are You Flirting With Me? Sanji x Reader (OPLA)
Sanji is a known flirt around all women, but y/n isn't sure if he's flirting with her or not and they confront them. Sanji x Female Reader
Y/N
Sanji was a very confusing man. He was a shameless flirt and ladies' man, fawning over every girl who crossed his path. Nami said he was all over her when they first went to The Baratie and had continued his ways since joining the crew. But when you joined the crew after they beat Arlong Sanji was odd, initially flirting and complimenting you, but after a couple of months, he seemingly stopped but continued with Nami and the other girls.
It didn't bother you at first, it was a nice break. You didn't have body issues, in fact, you liked how you looked and took care of your image, and before you left your island to join Luffy you'd been proposed to twice. But now when you look in a mirror you start to notice small flaws in your appearance. You hated what you were becoming, you had to get off the ship and away from the blonde cook for a bit.
With one last look in the small mirror by your hammock you throw it against the wall and watch it smash into tiny pieces on the floor, 'stupid cook,' you hiss.
Grabbing your jacket you leave the sleeping quarters and head back up onto deck.
'Y\N DINNERS READY!' Usopp calls out from the deck above.
You wave him off, 'I'm not hungry, I'm going to head into town for a bit.'
Before Usopp can say anything you're already walking down the gangplank.
SANJI
'Where's y/n?' Nami asks as Usopp comes back into the kitchen frowining.
I finish plating up y/n's food and put it down in their usual spot next to mine.
'She said she wasn't hungry and was going into town, looked upset,' Usopp answers.
Nami slams her hands down on the table, 'WHICH ONE OF YOU UPSET Y/N?'
The four of us share looks at one another, trying to figure out the answer, but no one comes forward to admit to doing anything wrong. It couldn't possibly be me because y/n and I had developed a close bond, the only girl seemingly immune to my flirting but still played along and gave me compliments when the rest of the crew wouldn't. Maybe I'd check on them after dinner.
TIME SKIP
There weren't many places to go in this town and I found y/n in the first tavern nursing what looked to be their third beer.
'What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?' I joke, and sit down next to them.
y/n doesn't even look at me as they reply, 'Are you...flirting with me?'
'Gods no! What gave you that idea?' I say, a little shocked.
y/n shrugs their shoulders, '...I mean...have you heard yourself talk around girls?'
I order a beer and bump my shoulder with y/n's, 'I've been told, look at you y/n, even with my flirting you looked past that and actually wanted to get to know me.'
y/n's head snaps in my direction their eyes wide, 'so that's why you stopped? You don't think I'm ugly.'
I shake my head, 'You're beautiful y/n. Wait is this why you're upset?'
y/n nods and faceplants the bar top grumbling. After a minute or two y/n explains how they thought they were ugly because I stopped flirting with them while continuing to do it with Nami and other girls around them. y/n was embarrassed, but I had to admit I was also in the wrong for not noticing my actions around them.
'I'm sorry Sanji,' y/n mutters.
I smile and throw an arm around their shoulder, 'I'm sorry to y/n. Trust me you're not ugly, because whenever we dock somewhere the guys and I have to keep guys away from you. Now I managed to save you a plate before Luffy could eat it if you're still hungry.'
y/n leans into me and smiles, 'You are the best cook I know. Thank you for coming after me Sanji, it means a lot.'
The two of us finish our drinks and leave the tavern, y/n holding onto me as they stumble having drunk on an empty stomach.
'On a scale of one to ten, you're a nine, and I'm the one you need,' I say seriously, but wiggle my eyebrows at them.
y/n bursts into laughter, 'Never change Sanji.'
From now on I would try and find the right balance because I never wanted to lose y/n.
#anime fanfiction#anime imagines#opla#one piece fanfiction#one piece imagines#one piece live action#one piece#one piece live action imagines#one piece live action fanfiction#anime blog#opla sanji#sanji x reader#opla sanji x reader#one piece sanji#sanji vinsmoke#one piece sanji imagines#one piece sanji fanfiction#opla sanji imagines#opla sanji fanfiction#vinsmoke sanji x reader
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Merlin as Arthur's familiar/Arthur's shapeshifter falcon AU
@dsabian , @theroundbartable , @theplatanitosqueal , @stressed-but-chill , this part is quite long.
LINK TO THE OTHER PARTS: PART 1 , PART2 , PART 3 , PART 4 (You're here) , PART5
Morgana, Arthur (with Merlin on his shoulder) and Uther having a family dinner. Gwen and other servants enter to serve the food.
Uther: Does the bird really has to be here?
Morgana: Oh, let him be. He's very well behaved. Even more than Arthur.
Arthur: I'm very flattered you think so highly of my manners, Morgana.
Merlin: (chirps)
Morgana: See? He agrees.
Arthur: Shut up, Merlin.
Uther: (thinking) Am I the only one that thinks is weird they treat this animal like a person?
Arthur: (takes a bite of his food) Hum, what is this? A pigeon?
Merlin: (chirps loudly, horrified, and flies away, leaving the room)
Uther: Arthur, control your bird! He left feathers on my food!
Arthur: Sorry father. (worried) He isn't normally like this, I think something upsetted him.
Morgana: Maybe is because you're eating a bird?
Arthur: No, that have never bothered him before and small birds are part of merlins' diet.
Morgana: Wait... (turns to Gwen) Gwen, what type of bird is that on Arthur's plate.
Gwen: I'm not sure... (turns to other servant girl) Gladys, you were with the cook when they prepared the food right? What kind of bird is that?
Servant girl: I don't know, it kind of looked like a falcon but it was too small too be one.
Morgana: You mean like a merlin?
Arthur: (pales) Fuck! (stands up) I'm sorry father. I need to go (leaves)
Morgana: Yeah, me too. It was a nice dinner, your majesty (leaves too)
Uther: But you barely touched your plates! (sighs, to servants) Take this away, and make sure you don't cook merlins for dinner next time, for gods' sake.
In Arthur's chambers. Merlin is in his human form crying, while Arthur and Morgana try to comfort him.
Merlin: He was just two years old!😭 He was barely starting living.
Arthur: (hugs him close, patting his back) I'm so sorry, Merlin.
Morgana: (puts a hand on his shoulder) Are you sure is Claws?
Merlin: I'll recognise him anywhere. (snifs) He had just started his first nest with his mate.
Arthur: Wait, he had a partner? 😧
Merlin: And five little eggs. (breaks the hug abruptly) OMG! I need to tell Brownie what happened to Claws!
Arthur: Go, meanwhile I'll talk to the hunters so this never happens again.
Merlin: (smiles) Thank you, Arthur.(kisses him on the cheek) I'll be back as soon as I can. (turns into a bird and goes flying through the window).
Arthur: (in shock with a hand on his cheek) 😳😳
Morgana: I'll try to get Claws' rests, so maybe we can do him a proper funeral when Merlin comes back.
Arthur: (snapping out of his trance) Right, good idea, Morgana. I'll meet you at your chambers in an hour.
Later. Arthur shouting at the hunters.
Arthur: What were you thinking?!😡
Hunter1: (scared) Bu-but, sire. You told us to get rid of it.
Arthur: Yes, but you were supposed to bury him somewhere in the woods, not get him cooked!
Hunter2: We were going to, but the cook saw us and thought it was todays dinner-
Arthur: I don't want to hear your excuses! (threathening) No one must know about this, specially Merlin, this stays between us. Do you understand?
Hunter1: Yes, sire!
Hunter1: Yeah, we won't mention this to your.. uh.. pet.
Arthur: Now, get out of my sight!
Hunters: Yes, sire! (leave)
Morgana: (enters, in disbelieve and furious) I can't believe you!
Arthur: (turns to her, nervous) Oh, hi, Morgana! 😅
Morgana: Don't "hi" me. You killed Claws! You murderer!
Arthur: You're talking like I've just killed a person. He was just a bird.
Morgana: He was not just a bird to Merlin and you know it! Did you think about how devastated he would feel?
Arthur: He was never supposed to know he died, just that he disappeared!
Morgana: yeah, because that's ten times better, isn't it? Are you even hearing yourself?
Arthur: Morgana, stop. I feel bad enough already.
Morgana: As you must! 5 merlin chicks are without a father thanks to your sick jealousy!
Arthur: (Guilty) I didn't know he had a family. (thoughtfully) How do you compensate a female bird for killing the father of her eggs?
Morgana: Don't. She'd probably just take your eyes out.
Arthur: (sighs) Will you tell Merlin?
Morgana: No, that would just crush him more. Your secret is safe with me.
Arthur: (relieved) Thank you.
Morgana: But you better start acting on your feelings for Merlin before you start killing the entire merlin race!
Later at Claws funeral in the royal garden. Morgana puts Claws bones in a box and Arthur buries it while Merlin watches in grieve.
Morgana: I'm sorry I could only save the bones. The servants tend to eat the royal leftovers.
Merlin: It's okay. If he wasn't eaten his dead would've been in vain. (turns to Arthur) Was he delicious?
Arthur: Ahm... yeah?
Merlin: (smiles, sadly) I'm glad. He was a nice friend. He didn't care I wasn't enterily a bird though he didn't quite understand it.
Morgana: Did you know Arthur thought he wanted to mate with you?
Arthur: (flustered) Morgana! 😳
Merlin: Oh, he did propose me to mate with him once.
Arthur: What?!
Merlin: Yeah, he did the most beautiful flying dance I've seen, but I just couldn't see him like that. So we stayed friends. It surprised me a lot, normally merlins just leave after I reject them, but he never stopped hanging out with me, even when he found his mate.
Arthur: What a nice friend (thinking) That flirtatious bastard.
Merlin: Anyways, I need to go now. Brownie needs me to hunt her food since she's incubating her eggs still and can't leave her nest.
Arthur: (guilty again) Right, send her my condolences.
Morgana: Mine too.
Merlin: (kisses Arthur's cheek again and leaves in his bird form).
Morgana: Well, that went well.
Arthur: Morgana.
Morgana: Yeah?
Arthur: I need to learn how to fly.
#merlin bbc#bbc merlin#merlin#merthur#merlin fanfic#merlin fic#merlin prompt#merthur fic#arthur and merlin#merlin and arthur#merthur prompt#Merlin as Arthur's familiar/Arthur's shapeshifter falcon AU
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My Elderly Mother Plays Baldur's Gate: Part 4
If you're not up to date on the saga, my mom is having me play Baldur's Gate 3 on her behalf because she has trouble using controllers/keyboards but still wants to "smooch the wizard boy." She is playing a neutral good wood elf druid; this is a detailed account of her crimes. Part 1 & 2 Part 3
Hey, everybody! Thanks to everyone who followed my blog to keep up with my mom's adventures. Also, shout-out to whoever called my mom "Crime Mom" last time I posted about this; she really got a kick out of that. We played for a full day yesterday so we could really get into Act III and make some progress.
Here are the atrocities she committed during yesterday's play session:
My mom is very pissed that she cannot keep Myshka the white cat. When she found Myshka, she told him that she was his mother because of course she did. Naturally, Myshka started following her around the city after that, and she was SO thrilled about it. However, when we went back to camp to trade out a companion and immediately came back to the city, the cat wasn't following her anymore, and my mom was so fucking upset. ("That boy thinks I'm his mother and I LEFT HIM! Why can't I take my son back to my camp with us?") My mom told me to tell my "tumblr friends" that Myshka should be able to join our camp like Scratch and the owlbear cub. So, if any of you guys are from Larian—take notes, I guess. My mother demands a cat son.
Upon seeing Mystra for the first time in the Stormshore Tabernacle cutscene, my mom immediately said in the bitterest voice imaginable, "I'm prettier than her." She is, of course, right. Fuck Mystra, all my homies hate Mystra.
When we found the Hag Survivors Group, my mom asked me if she could try combat for the first time, and she actually started to get the hang of it. ("Left bumper, mom. No, that's the trigger. BUMPER. Other left. There you go.") However, she didn't fully understand what "area of effect" meant and decided to cast Fireball ("Ooh, I've always wanted to use that one!") in an enclosed space before I could stop her. She instantly incinerated Mayrina, the floorboards, and the paladin, Adrielle. I was so fucking proud of her but also laughing so hard I was nearly in tears. She had me reload the save for her.
My mom returned the stolen money to the Counting House's head banker, then asked me to rob the rest of the building on our way out. When I asked her about the logic of this particular decision, she said, "We're saving the city from mind flayers, so these funds are really going back into the local economy when you think about it. We're a great cause!" I have no idea why she didn't just keep the stolen pouch of money in the first place. We wasted so many scrolls and Arrows of Transposition to get everything out of those vaults.
She was FURIOUS when she found out Auntie Ethel wasn't actually dead. My dad called in the middle of the day to check in on dinner plans and mom kept him on the phone for at least ten minutes while she ranted about hags who "should stay dead when they're told to."
My mom adores Jaheira. The two of them are very similar to each other, so I think she gets a kick out of seeing Camp Mom do Camp Mom things that she would do if she were actually in the game. My mom also loves Minsc and Boo. TASTE.
Don't know how soon my mother will come back for another play session, but I'll keep you guys updated whenever I can! She has already asked me if I would DM a D&D session for her retired friends, so I'm trying to find time to do that. Maybe I'll do some updates on that if we get it going.
Thank for everyone's support! Crime Mom and I appreciate it.
#crime mom plays bg3#bg3#baldursgate#baldur's gate#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#gale of waterdeep#mystra#fuck mystra all my homies hate mystra#jaheira#minsc and boo#minsc#larian studios#larian#@ larian let my mom have a cat pls#d&d#dnd#forgotten realms
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I have this idea for a fic and you are the very best to write it🥰.
Sports journalist reader and Pedri being in a private but no secret relationship, she is ok with it until people start commenting that Pedri surely wants to keep her private bc he wants to keep his image of being single and linked with ig models, and maybe it gets worse whe he fucks it up with a public comment along the lines of him not being in a relationship and she is like "ya basta de estupideces" and we get drama. Here I don't know what could happen but it ends with our beloved reader doing the post match interview with the players, when it's Pedri's turn they do the questions as normal but at the end he knows the mic is on and he says something like: "me esperas para llevarte a casa amor?".
It's Enough -P.G8
Summary: You're tired of people assuming things that are not true while your boyfriend shuts them up
You loved your work, you loved being a sports journalist, you were happy when you got the job at Sport and you loved being able to make people see a different point of view from what other journalist do, make players feel comfortable around you and ask them different questions than: "How was the rival team? Any thoughts on winning a certain trophy this year?"
And that's how you met and eventually make Pedri, your ten months boyfriend, fall in love with you, you being yourself even while working.
You had let people known you were in a relationship together two months ago and while everybody knew that, you both liked your privacy and you both tended to keep things on the low. And mostly, Pedri.
Everything has been great, both of you understanding each other, talking of anything, making time to be together, rarely fought but this one... it was the biggest one, you could ever have.
"I'm sorry"
"You really just think a simple sorry will cut it? I have my best friends asking me if you take this relationship seriously! My mom's calling me like crazy because she saw the video and my co-workers are sending me <<I'm sorry>> kind of texts, my brother wants to hit you in the face and I would gladly let him!" You shook your head "Why did you do that?!"
How on earth will he say "I'm not seeing anyone at the moment" when he clearly has you?!
"Y/N, amor-" You cut him off
"Comments about you with other girls have been going on and on lately, I honestly don't care about them, I know you and I know you wouldn't do that but then, you went ahead and said that shit that sent everyone into madness, it makes me rethink of everything I thought I knew about you once!" You admit with tears at the verge of falling "Did you lie to me? Do you really love me? Or you want me just to keep you company at nights?"
"Hey, no. Please, don't think that" Pedro shook his head "I've never lied to you, I'm in love with you, you are the girl of my dreams and the love of my life"
"Si lo soy, entonces ¿Por qué carajos dijiste eso?" (If so, then why the hell you said that?) Your voice broke lightly and the first tear fell down "You just embarrassed me in front of everyone, Pedri. There's nothing you can do to take it back, people think I'm good with open relationships, with you cheating, people are saying that you are hiding our relationship because you're embarrassed of me, people are saying you broke up with me just because you had what you wanted, people are saying shit about us, about me and it's all thanks to you"
"No, I didn't wanted that. I didn't- I'm not ashamed of us, of you, I just wanted to protect you, I-"
Your phone ringing interrupted him, you looked down at your hand and your boss's name flashed across the screen, you sighed in fear. You were news and bad ones.
"I gotta answer this"
"Please, amor-"
"Don't call me that, Pedro. In fact, don't call me, don't text me, don't even look at me, nothing at all because if you do I will do something I will later regret on"
"Like what?" He asked softly
"Like breaking up with you" You said strongly looking at him "I really can't bear with you right now, Pedro. We'll talk later" You shook your head and answered the phone going upstairs
Pedri felt like crying.
He knew he screwed up the second those words came out of his mouth, but it was as his body just blurted them out before his mind could process it. He just wanted to keep you safe.
But what a way of doing so, right?
He tried to do something else to shift his attention to the small office he set up for you at his house like washing the dishes, play some NBA, laundry and eventually get ready for his match.
He went upstairs with the intention of going straight into his room but his body tricked him and he ended up at your office, his heart breaking up when he heard you sniffing while speaking to your boss.
"You're giving us bad reputation with those news, Y/N" He heard your boss say
"I know, sir; my apologies" You said "He must have been really tired, you know he isn't like that"
"Whatever it was, it's done"
Pedri closed his eyes, his hand on top of the doorknob ready to come in and defend you but his phone interrupted him
Tiburón🦈
"Ya vamos a empezar a calentar. ¿Dónde estás?" (We're starting the warm up. Where are you?)
He sighed and went to your chat: "I love you, always have and always will. I'm truly sorry about everything, my love. But I'll make it up for you, I swear to God"
And leaving a kiss on the door, he left the house quickly, his body was on his way to Lluís Companys but his mind and soul stayed with you at his house.
You sighed, coming out of the shower. You had to go to Barcelona's match because you were scheduled for tonight's interviews, looking at the watch on the wall, you saw you were a bit early but still needed to go so you could make it on time.
You weren't in the mood for anything today. From being called names, to have all of your contacts worried about you and your relationship, to have your boss onto your neck wanting for you to dissolve any rumor but won't even knowing how to do so.
You wanted to simply disappear but you never had powers back in high school and you won't grow powers now being an adult. So the only thing you did was buckle your pants up and act as if nothing was affecting you.
Calling a cab, you went to Lluís Companys and with the help of Aaron, the cameraman you started the reportage in which ended up with Barcelona being the winner. 2-0. Both goals from Pedri.
Both goals that were dedicated to you.
Your heart beating incredibly fast at the gesture of your boyfriend who changed his glasses celebration for your name on a personalized Barcelona jersey, still with the 8 number
"Te quiero" he had said before giving the jersey to one member of the staff and return the game.
You felt extremely proud knowing he was the MVP however your happiness slowly turned sour because as he was the MVP of the match you had to interview him, you wanted it or not and you weren't ready to face Pedri yet.
"Buenas noches, Pedri" You said with a small smile, professionalism running through you
"Buenas noches" (Good night) He said softly
"Vamos a ser un poquito rápidos que sabemos que tienes que irte... Enhorabuena por la victoria de esta noche" (Congrats on the win tonight) ", 2-0 against Getafe How do you feel?"
"Well... Good. We played very well, we had control, we managed to knock the rival mostly from the sidelines, we knew we had to be strong since Getafe is a great team as well. And well, it was a very good game which we won and now to focus on the next game"
"Both goals from you with amazing assists of Fermin and Raphinha. They were amazing, by the way"
"Gracias"
"And you are the MVP for tonight's match. Congratulations as well with that, Pedri. How do you feel about that?"
"Good, good. It feels amazing, my goal is to score more and make more assists this season and hopefully I'll be able to help the team in any way I can"
"That's good to hear, Pedri. Once again, congratulations. Have a good night!" You said quickly wanting to get over with everything. "¿Lo agarraste?" (Did you got that?) You ask Aaron who nods and goes to show you a bit of the footage.
"Amor, ¿me esperas para que vayamos a casa?" (Babe, you wait for me so we can go home?) You heard Pedri asks "Por cierto, esto es para ti" (By the way, this is for you) He hands you the jersey
"What? Why?" You receive the jersey looking at it
"I'm dedicating goals to my one and only girl, is it bad?" And as much as you wanted to refuse a smile slowly came up to your face. You shake your head softly coming over to him to hug him "Te amo" (Love you) He said "And I'm sorry" You smiled and kissed his lips before kissing his sweaty, dirty but rosy cheek
"Don't do it again please" You whispered watching his big brown and beautiful eyes
"Never. You're my girlfriend, I'm in love with you and I see the rest of my life with you by my side, amor" He whispered back before pecking your lips softly "Entonces... ¿Me esperas? Voy a bañarme y a cambiarme rápido para que vayamos a casa y descansemos" (So... You wait for me? I'll shower and change really quick so we can go home and rest) You nod softly
"Better be quick, I really want to go home" You smiled untangling yourself from him
"I'm off right now"
"Y/N..." Aaron called you softly with a panicked look to his face
"What?"
"Football players mic was on and that was live" You open your mouth in shock, troubles keep coming at you.
"Don't mind" Pedri said "Let everyone know I'm taken by the best girl ever" You looked at him and he winked at you squeezing your hand.
What a sneaky boy he was.
°°° °°° °°° °°°
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In The Dead of Night
TEN
Characters: AU Eric played by Bill Skarsgård from The Crow (2024)
Setting: This story is set in A WHOLE OTHER WORLD than the movie. Shelley isn't a part of this story. Eric will be different from the movie, I started this story long before I saw the movie.
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.
Notes: FINALLY seen the movie. All similarities with the movie are accidentally. I got this idea after seeing the trailer.
×
I looked at Eric with pleading eyes until I heard a loud groan from Robin and how he turned on his heel to leave.
“Robin!” I shouted after him and jumped out of bed. It was a reflex to follow him because he was the one that left, but he was also my best friend. After a few seconds of searching, I found my panties on the floor and the gray tank top Eric used the night before, and then I ran after Robin through the staircase.
“Robin, please! You don't understand! I was just-”
Robin turned around in the middle of a stair while I stood on the first step.
“No! I don't understand! Because the only way I can see you have been able to get in contact with him is that you searched him up! Behind my back!”
“Yes, yes… But it was for Lotti!”
It wasn't a complete lie, but it was far from completely true either.
“For my mom? For my mom? You don't know a fuck what's best for her!”
“She misses him all the time.”
“That doesn't mean he's good for her. And neither for you! He's a fucking junkie, Della!”
"No, he's not; he's clean!”
“That's what he says to you, you fucking idiot! How many times should I say to you, addicts are manipulative assholes, and he will hurt you. I just want your best, but instead you go behind my back and fuck the trash.”
I stood quiet because I was in the wrong and didn't know what to say, but also because I didn't know much about addiction, and once again I became worried Eric was actually taking something. Had he hidden pills somewhere?
“I get that it's an exciting story with the lost son, the son who came back from an addiction, but I've seen him close to death twice now, even if he had sworn he would never do anything again. My mom doesn't need that, and I don't think you want to be near that either. You have probably seen the signs that he isn't stable, and I'm quite sure you don't want that in your life.”
I could hear Lotti's words in my head about his long periods of opiates use and the short periods of him being happy. Maybe this was a short period he was happy, and he would soon fall down in the dark pit of drugs again. Hadn't he closed the door, only ignoring it for the moment? He had said himself he thought about drugs all the time.
Robin started to walk down with slow steps, not as upset anymore, but his shoulders were slumped, and I could see a genuine worry in his body language when he dragged his hand over his face.
“Robin…” I whined but stayed on my step.
“This is just fucked up, Della. Going behind my back but also how much you will destroy for yourself…” he said with a sigh. I stayed silent and let my tears fall until I heard him walk out the entrance door. I took a deep breath because I knew now I had one more man to explain my actions to. In one way it felt easier because Eric wasn't the type to scream and make a scene, but he would be much more hurt than Robin. Robin's emotions were loud, but Eric's was big.
I met him already in the hallway, dressed in gray sweatpants and a Joy Division t-shirt that was so well used it had a big hole in the armpit. He gave me a quick look when he threw down his sports bag with his things on the floor, then he pulled on his high-top Vans.
“Eric..! I cried pathetically. Now the tears streamed heavily, and I tried to drag his body close to mine, but he either turned his back against me or pushed me away lightly.
“Please just let me explain, please!”
I didn't even know how to explain my behavior, but still I said it, just to be able to make him stay, but it didn't work because Eric just pulled on his bomber jacket. In that moment when his arms were occupied, I took my chance to hug him around his waist, hugging so hard he wouldn't be able to go away.
“Della…”
He tried to sound bored and irritated, but I could only hear the tears in his throat.
“Please Eric, just let me explain.”
I tied my fingers together around his back to make it harder for him to push me away, but I noticed at once I didn't need to worry about that; Eric was too kind to push me hard. Instead, he let his arms hang by his side while he stood with his eyes closed. I looked at him and dried my own tears from my cheeks and wondered if he would cry, but he just took a deep breath until he spoke again.
“I want to go now, Delilah.”
“No! Let us go back to bed; please just let us talk!” I rambled in my panic and tried to make him move towards the bedroom. I was stupid for believing that. Eric's body was just muscles, and he wouldn't move an inch if he didn't want to.
“I don't want to talk. I want to go...”
He really tried sounding determined and hard, like he could do to Odin, but he just sounded like a broken boy.
“Eric, I want to explain-”
For the first time during our conversation, he looked at me. His beautiful big green eyes were full of tears, but he blinked them away and looked down at me again.
“I don't want to talk because it doesn't matter anyway. Everything between us is a lie; you have gone behind my back, and I guess the stalking Jackie talked about was also true then-”
“No, no! Let me explain!” I cried pathetically and hugged him even harder.
“No, Della. Let me go.” He looked at me seriously while a tear crawled its way down his porcelain skin. ���Just let me go.”
I looked straight into his eyes while tear after tear swam down his cheeks. I cried loudly instead, like a kid losing its favorite stuffy. I wanted to continue to hold him, only letting him go when everything was okay again, but not even I knew how we would get past this. I was a stalker, a liar, and hadn't respected his boundaries. Eric was an addict, but that was his only flaw. He deserved something better.
Hyperventilating with tears, I let him go slowly, and he took the trunk standing on the floor and wiped away his tears on his cheeks. I hoped he would give me a final kiss, a hug, and say that we could stay in touch, but he just walked out of my apartment and closed the door behind him silently. I continued my hyperventilating cries, and it became worse when I realized I had one thing more to tell him. I opened the door fast and could hear his slow steps down the stairs and a sniffle. I took a deep breath through my pained lungs and shouted:
“I love you most in the entire world!”
×××
Desiree dragged her fingers through my hair, even if it was greasy. I had been lying in bed for six days, and both me and my bedroom smelled like sweat and stale air. I didn't notice the smell, though, because I was just thinking about Eric. A bit about Robin too, but mostly about Eric. I loved him so much it felt like my body had shut down, and for short moments I wondered if I would be able to function again.
“I get that you're sad over Eric and Robin and everything, but laying here just makes it worse…”
Desiree just knew that Eric was Robin's brother, and I had approached him without Robin's consent. She didn't know why Eric had broken up with me too, but she probably created her own story about all of it.
“You can talk to Robin. He will probably understand. I mean, it's just his brother. It was a stupid thing for you to do, but it is only his brother. Such things happen.”
I sighed deeply and closed my eyes even harder. It wasn't as easy as Desiree believed, and hearing her talk so lightly about it just made my chest ache even harder.
“Can't you come on a walk with me at least? You will feel better when you go out.”
I did what she said. I don't even know why; maybe it was just nice someone else made a decision for me. I wore Eric's big hoodie over a pair of leggings with my nose down in the collar to smell the little scent of him that was left on it. Desiree looked at me while I did it and sighed.
“He's really nice but don't you think this is for the best? You're so different from each other. I always thought you wanted a more ambitious guy who could afford traveling with you.”
She was right; I had dreams about traveling all the time, meanwhile Eric had problems even affording a visit to my hometown, but money wasn't everything. He was.
“I don't want that anymore…” I said with a small voice.
“You feel that now because you two just broke up, but I know how much you like to travel. He works as a part-time janitor. It doesn't sound like he can even afford a trip to New York.”
I dug my hands deeper into the pocket of the hoodie. It was too early for her to diss Eric. Maybe in a few weeks it could be comforting, but I doubted even that. Talking shit about Eric was what weak, prejudiced people did. He was the kindest soul and did his best in life.
“What about Dante? I mean, I've seen on Instagram that he's still single and you two were-”
“God! This shit about Dante! He's an asshole!” I groaned loudly. My whole family was obsessed with the thought of me and Dante, even if I had said so many times he was an asshole.
“I know you could nag sometimes, but all couples do that, and you were so perfect for-”
“No! Can you please back off? I never ever want to be close to him again!”
“Because he complained about your clothes sometimes? Every partner you have had has complained about your clothes!”
My style was eclectic, theatrical, and sometimes ultra-sexy. I was a vintage girl, but I also liked some drama, and every partner I have had has either complained about the length of my skirt or the size of my hat. Everyone except Eric. That wasn't the reason I hated Dante, though.
“Yes! Because he complained about my clothes!”
Desiree made a smacking sound with her tongue, like she thought I was silly.
“So? He was handsome, stable, rich, sweet…”
While Desiree continued to enumerate everything good with Dante, I looked at my phone that was ringing. It was an unknown number, and in regular situations I wouldn't have answered, but now I did just to make Desiree shut up.
“Hey, it's Nick... Uhm…”
“Hi?” I said confused but also nervously. I wondered if he would shout at me for breaking Eric's heart, but it didn't really sound like he was mad.
“I know you and Eric have broken up, but I think you should come? He's a mess, and I'm afraid he will do something stupid. Please Della?” Nick said pleadingly. He didn't need to say more than that, I stood up at once and gave Desiree a look. She looked back at me, confused.
“I will be there as soon as I can.”
×××
I had hoped a reason would arise where I could go to Eric, but him feeling so awful that Nick felt forced to call me wasn't what I wanted. Nick told me he, John, and Granny had watched him in shifts because they didn't know what he could do in his anxiety. They had started to watch him after Granny had seen the prominent blue imprint of a belt around his neck, and he had asked for Granny’s anxiety medication he knew he had.
Together, Nick and Granny had locked away every sharp object or thing he could strangle himself with, in a wardrobe, even if Eric said they were silly. They didn't dare to take any risks because they knew Eric had an impulsive side that could come out when you least expected.
I borrowed mom and dad's car again, and my tears streamed down my cheeks while I was driving. Of course I could see why he wasn't boyfriend material. He used drugs and self harm to cope with life when I had the plan to be an adult and travel with my safe boyfriend. Eric handled everything in life turning against himself and was far from being safe. Still, I didn't want anyone else, and even if he didn't want me, I would stand by his side.
I had packed some things, ready to stay if it was needed, but left the bag in the car. I didn't know if Eric actually wanted me there, and it would maybe provoke him if it seemed like I thought I would stay. Instead, I walked up to his apartment with just my phone and keys in his hoodie's pocket and pushed the doorbell with a deep exhalation.
It was Nick who opened the door, dressed in a white tank and black sweats.
“Hey,” he just said, and let me go into Eric's apartment. I gave him a little strained smile and stopped awkwardly in the hallway. It didn't feel right to just go in when Eric had asked me to leave him alone the last time we saw each other.
“He's in bed; maybe you can talk to him?” Said Nick, who scratched his jaw uncomfortably.
I nodded a little and moved into the room at once. Standing next to Nick in the hallway felt just awkward, and it felt better to just go to Eric.
I could see long pale legs sticking out under the black cover and a tattooed back. His black hair melted into the pillow. I didn't know if he knew I was there, if he was sleeping, so I just sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for signs he was ready for my presence. He seemed to be sleeping, so I moved the cover away from his neck and saw the angry bruise on his skin. It wasn't just black and blue but there were also wounds where the leather had penetrated his skin. It really looked like someone had tried to decapitate him.
“Oh god…” I whispered to myself. “Have you cleaned the wound? It looks awful.”
I looked at Nick, who leaned against the armrest of the couch.
“Ehm… No…” he said guiltily. “He wouldn't accept that anyway. You really believe he would let me clean his wounds?”
I sighed and dragged my fingers through the back of Eric's greasy mullet. To touch him was a reflex, but it caused him to wake up, and he looked at me with heavy eyes. He had a longer stubble that didn't match his raven colored hair.
“Hey…” I said softly, but I could feel the nerves in my chest.
He looked at me for a few seconds, then turned his back to me. I stared at his broad back hurt and then at Nick, who smiled at me disappointedly and stood up.
“Do you want coffee?” He asked me.
I furrowed my brows in confusion.
“I think I should go?”
“That easily? I thought you loved him?” Asked Nick with a bit of attitude. It was obvious he was protective of Eric.
“Yes but… He doesn't want me here?”
“He doesn't want me here either. So, coffee?”
I looked between Nick and the back of Eric.
“Yes, thank you.”
The two of us sat on the couch while Eric continued to sleep in the bed. We didn't say anything because there wasn't that much to say. I knew Nick wouldn't ask what happened between me and Eric, and I wouldn't tell until I really must. After 45 minutes of us just staring between the window, our phones, and Eric's back, he turned around and looked at us. His eyes were tired and sad, and at once I had a bad conscience. Was it me who had destroyed him like this?
Nick stood up and walked to the kitchen when he noticed that Eric just looked at me, and I took a deep breath. I didn't know what would happen, even if I knew Eric wasn't the angry type. He looked at me with big eyes that just became more and more shiny.
“I miss my mom…” he suddenly said with a wobbly voice and let himself cry without restraint.
“Hey, hey…” I said with a beating heart, broken of seeing him like that. I ran up to the bed and sat down next to him and hugged him.
“You can be with your mom, you know.”
Eric shook his head and took a deep breath. He laid down on his back and pushed his hands against his eyes.
“I have pain everywhere…” he whispered, and I nodded just a little and started to pat his chest. I didn't know if it would be okay, but I knew that if he had anxiety, it was where the pain started.
“Harder…”
I patted harder, in a circle. It made Eric remove his hands from his face and look at me. We didn't say anything; we just looked into each other's eyes while I patted.
“I lost my job…” He said after a few minutes.
“No, why?” I said with an empathetic voice, but it seemed to just make everything worse, and his face shrank up because of new tears.
“I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
“I forgot I needed to go to work.”
It was typically him, especially when his emotions went wild. I nodded in response and continued to pat his chest.
“I can't do anything right…”
"Yes, you can! You're so great, baby.”
I felt awful hearing him talk about himself like that and laid down next to him and steered his face against mine. He looked between my eyes and lips, and I moved closer to him, encouraging him to kiss me, but he looked away.
“Delilah…” He paused and looked up at the ceiling before he turned his gaze to me. He shook his head a little, but I couldn't interpret what he wanted to say.
“It's broken between you and me. It's broken…” He turned his eyes away from me again and closed them tightly. I laid and looked at his perfect profile and felt my chest start to hurt in a similar way Eric's probably did.
“But… But you need me...” I whispered. Eric didn't say anything, even if I crawled closer to him, kissing his earlobe and patting his cheek.
Eric breathed heavily and licked his cracked lips.
“I just… I don't feel well at all…”
He said, and let me continue to touch his face. I nodded fast, eager to just make him feel better.
“We could talk if I felt better…” he whispered, and he laid his cheek heavy in my hand. My heart beated faster now; the thought of him being able to talk to me and give me another chance took over everything else. I could do anything for him to forgive me.
He looked at me with big, green, soulful eyes and I knew I would do anything for him, especially when his eyes started to swim with tears.
“I saw something at your place when I was there... You still have pain medications for your shoulder, right? If I could just get a couple so my chest pains would stop…” His tears ran down his cheeks again, and I wiped them away with my thumbs. “Just three or four, it wouldn't make a difference? It's just for now.”
I didn't even know that I'd left the morphine pills so he could find them and admired him for not having taken anything. Maybe he could just take a couple? Just now when he didn't feel well?
“Please Della… It feels like I will die, please...” He cried, and he made me nod a little, even if I hadn't really thought it through.
“Yeah?” He said it with a small, hopeful smile. It was the first smile he had given me that day, and it was so precious I couldn't stop myself from just smiling back.
“Yeah,” I said and nodded a little.
“Can you get them now?” he asked eagerly. His eagerness made me doubt my decision, but I had too bad a conscience to take my words back. He would never talk to me if it seemed like I played with him.
I nodded at his question, and he hugged my hand in his as a thank you. I squeezed it back a little bit too long but then stood up, walking out to the hallway. I prepared myself for Nick's questions because I knew he wouldn't get me. He seemed to believe Eric was a lost case, but it was me who had been with him the most the last few months, and I knew this was just now. He would see it was just now he would take the pills.
“Are you going now?” Nick asked, confused, when I was almost at the door.
“I will be back.”
“Okay? I just thought you felt he was more important,” he said with a shoulder shrug.
“I do!” It angered me that he even said such a thing. “I just need to get something.”
Nick looked at me up and down and stopped at my eyes. I couldn't look at him, so I looked away, and it was obvious enough for him to understand.
“You're going to give him drugs!”
“No!”
“You're going to get him drugs!”
“No! I just-”
“Are you so fucking slow that you would give an addict drugs! Huh??”
“I'm sorry!” I cried and dragged Eric's hoodie sleeve over my eyes. “I just want him to stop being in pain!”
“Why did I even call you?? You're just a naive little girl! Get the fuck out of here before you've destroyed him completely!”
I ugly cried from shame but also terror of seeing Nick that angry. I turned on my heel and ran out the door, down the stairs as fast as I could. It felt like Nick was chasing me even if I knew he wasn’t.
I jumped into my car while sobbing. First I just felt sorry for myself, for evil Nick had destroyed everything, but it didn't take a long time before I realized what I'd almost done.
I think about drugs all the time.
I could hear Eric's voice in my head and thought about how he had told me how much he still dreamt about drugs. If I had given him it, what would have happened then? I wanted to believe it would just be that time, but not even I was that stupid in reality. I just couldn't stand hearing him cry in pain.
I was a naive little girl, and Nick did the right thing by throwing me out. Everyone made it sound like Eric wasn't good for me, but everything pointed to how it was the other way around.
×××
Three days later, Robin agreed to meet me on the bench outside of the salon. He had Odin with him, who was much happier to see me than Robin was. I cuddled with him for a while even if Robin was waiting, but even he knew it would be calmer if Odin just got his attention. When I sat down on the bench, Robin gave me an unexpected first question.
“So it's Eric that has started to raise him?” He looked at Odin, who had laid down on the ground in a way he wouldn't have done some months ago. I shrugged my shoulders and swallowed hard.
“I guess so. He's really good with animals, and Odin really-”
“I know he's good with animals; even our dog Max loved him more than me.”
I laid my head to the side and gave him a sympathetic look.
“No one loved him more than you.”
“Yes, my parents, our relatives, even the dog! I had only my uncle on my side. Otherwise, it was so much about Eric all the time!”
“Don't you think that's from your perspective, because he was the adopted son?”
Robin made an irritated sound and shook his head.
“The apartment he has now is his first home. Did you know that? He lived as a parasite on mom and dad all the time-”
“Don't call him that; he has had a tough life.” I tried to say it softly, but it still provoked Robin.
“He lived on the streets as long as he thought it was fun then he-”
“No one thinks it's fun to live on the street! Come on!” I was annoyed now because Robin really tried to own the narrative, even if it all was completely unbelievable.
“He did! Then he came home to mom and dad, and they needed to save him! It was me who fucking forced mom to get him into rehab! She couldn't take care of him when dad just died! And Eric didn't do anything else than get eaten up by heroin until he overdosed! Some nice son there!” He more or less shouted now, and I wanted to hush him because of his harsh words, but then he would probably get quiet instead.
“So your dad died and Eric overdosed because of it?”
“Oh shut the fuck up. That wasn't the reason.”
I sighed and dragged my hands over my face.
“But you took him to rehab then? It was nice of you, Robin. You might have saved his life.” I tried to talk to his more human side, and it seemed to work because he took a deep breath.
“Yes, but it was totally fruitless. And now he did it again.”
I furrowed my brows in confusion. Eric hadn't OD’d since I got to know him...
“You remember when I said my uncle had hit his head and gotten into a coma? It was he who was in a coma. Eric. Everyone thought he would die. Can you understand now why he isn't good for you? He has been clean for like half a year.”
I didn't listen to the last part of what he said. I just thought about where I was in life when Eric was close to death. I was dreaming. About him.
My Eric. My dream man.
×
#bill skarsgård#bill skarsgard#fan fiction#writing#story#bill skarsgård writing#bill skarsgård fanfiction#fiction#the crow#eric
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