#you lay a finger on them and ill break every bone in your body

[regionisms]

the teal mask dlc has me in a chokehold, so I wanna ramble about my past pokemon teams that I hold near and dear to my heart. buckle up, cause this is about to get LONG.

these are all the teams I have used to beat the championships/storyline in each of the games I have played. I also have an unspoken rule, that if a pokemon becomes part of one of these teams, then I am unable to use it in a future championship team, allowing me to use a variety of different pokemon each play through.

first up, my kalos team, aka my first team in my first ever pokemon game. you can pretty much tell how new I was at this game considering how many type duplicates I have in my team, yet somehow able to pull through with these guys.

waterlily (female greninja) ember (female pyroar) savage (male lucario) magmar (male charizard) atlantis (female lapras) and then xerneas who I didn't name for some reason.

next up, my team from the original moon titles. this time, I had a bit more of a type understanding, but again, I primarily just used pokemon that I enjoyed the design of.

igneous (male incineroar) granite (male lycanroc) lazuli (female alolan muk) zindro (male kommo-o) mulong (female drampa) and once again, the game's legendary.

my team from pokemon ultra sun. heck of a lot more understanding of type match ups, everyone in this team had their part to play and never did I feel one was more powerful than the others.

aquarius (male primarina) chasm (female lycanroc) terabyte (male ampharos) dracula (male crobat) Kurt (male zoroark) majora (male glalie)

next up, my team for pokemon ultra moon. yes, I enjoyed playing through ultra sun so much that I bought moon as well, I couldn't help myself.

hawkeye (male decidueye) hector (male alolan marowak) po (male pangoro) starscream (male flygon) chu-chu (male dedenne) salamander (male shiny quagsire)

and now, my team for pokemon shield. absolutely love these guys, they're all my skrunklies.

bongo (male rillaboom) akira (male grimmsnarl) rango (male sandacona) kaiju (male duraludon) paprika (female centiskorch) iggy (male toxtricity)

and finally, my most recent team, my scarlet team.

gulliver (male quaquaval) nougat (male clodsire) duke (male mabostiff) lumiere (female kilowattrel) cynder (female ceruledge) titan (male baxcalibur)

[atc-tatiana]

Break and Bite

~•Part one•~

•Part three•

Miguel is at peace with you safe. Your neck shows Miguel mark. But it’s not like people will see it. Especially if you are ill.

Tw: Miguel being weird, You are being weird, change body, Miguel begin toxic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Buzz buzz buzz~ My eyes flatter open, my vision was blurry. But I could still make out a brown blob. My hand reach out to touch the blob, but it’s seem far away. My eyes rolled back, my eyelids closed and open. I could feel a throbbing pain against my neck. Then my head was pounding like crazy. I hissed and drop my hand on the soft surface I was laying down. My body moved together, trying to comfort myself. My eyes closed themselves and kept close.

I felt something so warm and hard underneath my side. Then something else popped on my open side. What appears or felt like fingers glazed over my back. What ever it was, it felt warm and pulled me closer to warmth. I could feel my legs rubbing together, skin to skin. The back of my head was being caressed ever so gently. A warm breath caress my lips, as I heard a soft humming. Something so warm touched my lips, making them open slightly. Then I heard some low murmurs as I felt warm sucking on my lips. My breath was shaky the pain was getting worse by the minutes. The pain was like multiple paper cuts on my forehead. My neck was as if someone nails scratching ever so slowly. My feet’s were trembling, I could feel so much. I could feel every little breeze hitting my skin. I could feel whoever rough fingertips glistening in my back. The soft material underneath my body and up my body. The coldness of a shirt on my body. How it was loose on my body, this shirt wasn’t mine. This shirt feels different, everything around me feels different. Even my hair feels different, smoother and lighter. My skin feels heavy, my bones feel sensitive. One wrong move and pain will consume me whole.

His lips outline my lips so gently, so soft. My eyes open again, hoping I could see again. But it was more blurry than ever. I closed my eyes again feeling more comforted by the darkness. My ears mumbled every noise, so I could hear was underwater noise. It was almost calming but dangerous. Not allowing to hear your surroundings, especially if you are new to this. Or even get to see your new surroundings. I wasn’t aware that I was lifted up and carried around. I felt like I was being thrown in the air without a warning. But it wasn’t as violent as I describing it. The next thing I knew a shot of pain was inflicted upon my shoulder. It was too sudden my whole body started to shake. In seconds I could actually hear and see. My whole sense were back, but my body was still weak. I could feel the coldness underneath my bottom. I could see that I wasn’t wearing any pants. I was just wearing a large shirt and underwear that wasn’t mine.

I felt hands on the side of my face, pushing me to face him. My eyes were narrowed I was adjusting to my sense. My eyes looked up at Miguel eyes they were soft…and tantalizing. I groan feeling groggy, my body wobbly. When I did adjust I quickly slap Miguel face. I moved away from Miguel towards the wall. I looked down and saw I was in a metal table.”What the fuck have you done to me?” I breathed through my mouth so when I speak I sounded very loud. I didn’t know how I’m alive still!? My eyes looked everywhere in this room. It was dark very dark, just like HQ.”Listen (Name) don’t overwhelm yourself with those feelings. You’ll overload yourself with emotions then you’ll die.”Miguel got closer to me, his body lean against the table. His knee was propped up on the table, ready to pounce at me. My head looked to the side, I cover my mouth. There were a full paper of people, people that look like me. I took the papers and scanned over it. Different name’s different people, different age. I slowed down on page 256 label perfect match. There were only ten 100% people that were in equal match. I looked up at Miguel whose was still looking at me, patiently. My body trembles as I looked at both wrist, I didn’t have the gizmo. I throw the papers to the side and crawl on the edge of the table.

“You are a phsyco pathetic person. You fucking”Miguel grabbed me tightly, slamming me against the concrete wall. Miguel hand tightly held my mouth close. I looked up at Miguel how he was heavily breathing. How Miguel chest was tightly press against my chest. Miguel free arm was on the side of my head. I was trembling uncontrollably as Miguel face came closer to me.”Tu no me hables así entendido? I did all of this for you. I made you a part of my life so you wouldn’t get hurt.”Miguel breath was heavy against my lips. Miguel voice was low and menacing. I lifted my hand up to shot webs but nothing came out, I tried to punch Miguel. Everything I could have done was wrong! I could do anything! I���m not me! I’m someone else someone who isn’t spider women!

Oh god I thought. Miguel change me, he fucking change me into someone else but me. Miguel let go of my mouth still looking at me. I started to punch Miguel chest, my body violently move around. I thrash around as I kept punching Miguel. Like in those romances novels when a girl and a man get into a fight. Where they end up kissing and sleeping together. But I kept fighting and throwing insults at Miguel. All the while Miguel was just letting me beat him.

Another minute pass and I was breathing heavily. My fist was still on Miguel chest, my head was laying on Miguel chest. I was crying from frustration, not only will I not be myself. But I will never be able to be in my world. Everything I work so hard for all is going to be dumped in the trash; like everything was for nothing.”You fucking….”I hiccup as I felt everything crashing down on me.

Miguel hugged me tightly, after he lifted me up. I wrapped my arms around Miguel neck, as I cried on his shoulder. I repeated to Miguel why did he do this to me? Besides I never talked to Miguel, I never even know him. So why didn’t he care for me?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[moononastring]

Spirit Meets the Bones [ Prompt ]

Find it all here.

Author's note: long ago, a 'nonnie asked for Eiris during Iris's cycle and I finally wrote it. This is for the other anon asking for some Eiris fluff. Enjoy! ☺️

Tagging: @penellaphedaneer | @gwynberdara | @positivewitch | @foxybananaaaz | @helion-ism | @simoneashly | @lattristantketchup | @story-scribbler | @cynicalpotato95 | @readthelastpaage | @rityrooroo | @applestrudeldoo | @ruhncervos |

Eris gently closed the door of their bed chamber then paused. He delicately sniffed the air and every nerve in his body tensed at the faint scent of blood.

He narrowed his eyes, fire already gathering in his hands because if someone had hurt Iris — if someone had made the mistake of touching his wife — he would roast whatever Iris had left of them.

But a movement on the bed caught his eye and Eris turned to find a squirming figure bundled beneath the sheets. He blinked rapidly then snorted, the fire disappearing from his hands. The corner of his mouth lifted just so as he approached the bed and found none other than his wife, curled up on her side and his expression dropped immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, and Iris’s head shot up, meeting his eyes. She bit her lip, her expression tight at the movement then buried herself further in the sheets.

“Nothing. I’m — I’m just tired.”

He tilted his head, tasting her lie. He scanned her then, noticing the fetal position, the thin line of her lips. “You slept like the dead last night. Are you feeling ill?” he asked quietly.

Iris hesitated, her cheeks flushing just so. “Yes. I don’t feel well.”

He straightened. “Did you hurt yourself? I smelled blood.”

Iris’s flush deepened. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“Wife. You’re lying.” he said curtly. “Tell me what’s wrong. Now.”

Iris pursed her lips and avoided his eyes, which only set Eris further on edge. What the hell was wrong with her? She didn’t avoid him anymore.

Narrowing his eyes again, he did the one thing he did best — annoy her.

Making his way over to her side of the bed, Eris sat on the edge and watched her for a moment as she watched him. Without breaking eye contact, he reached a hand to poke her cheek very gently. “Is this your way of telling me you want to stay in bed and do the dirty kind of training?” he said and smirked when she swatted at his hand angrily.

“If you even think about touching me, I will claw your eyeballs out.” she said and raised a threatening finger before wincing then pulling the blanket up to her chin.

His lips twitched at the sight before sighing. “Then tell me what’s wrong. You seemed fine yesterday,” he asked, hating the way worry was curling in his stomach. He hated caring and cauldron boil him, he definitely cared too much. “You seemed more tired than usual but still fine.”

Iris only tightened her grip on the sheets, clenching her teeth. “I told you. I — don’t — feel — well.”

He squinted at her once more. “That doesn’t explain the blood I scented. You didn’t kill anyone in the bathroom, did you?”

Iris flushed deeply. “No,” she mumbled, then closed her eyes, wincing slightly. “Just — just go about your day. I’m going to rest.”

Eris watched her for a moment and when she shifted once more sucking in a breath, the faint scent of blood hit him again.

And suddenly, it clicked.

“Oh.” he said with a blink.

Iris cracked an eye open and watched him silently.

He gave her a small, yet somehow still obnoxious, smile. “You’re on your cycle.”

If possible, Iris flushed even deeper but shot him a glare. “Don’t — don’t say anything else.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything? It’s your first one since we’ve been married. We could’ve prepared for it better.”

Iris turned to lay flat on her back then let out a groan, immediately curling back on her side. “Prepare how? I just — I deal with this on my own, okay? You can go.”

Eris shook his head. “Oh, wife. You’re ridiculous,” he said and crossed his arms. “I will not go. I will stay right here. What do you need?”

“Some peace and quiet.” she mumbled, and Eris chuckled.

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed? This is very natural.”

“I know that.” she snapped. “I’m just not used to having anyone around when I deal with it. I just stayed in my room until it passed.”

Eris pursed his lips then hummed. “We can certainly do that too.”

“I will stay — you can go.”

Eris tutted then gestured with his hand. “Move over.”

Iris blinked. “What.”

“I said move over, Iris. I can help.”

Iris only stared at him, her face the shade of his hair but before she could say anything, she sucked in another breath, and her body tensed on the bed as she let out a groan.

Eris let his gaze wash over her once more before standing with a shake of his head. “You play so hard to get when you’re so eager for me, wife.”

“Shut the fuck up.” she immediately snarled but Eris only grinned, his eyes never leaving her face as he slowly slipped off his jacket and tossed it to the side and then followed by removing his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Iris demanded and Eris fought back a laugh at her expression.

“As I said, I can help you.” he said and Iris found that she had nothing to say as he wordlessly climbed onto their bed beneath the covers and slid himself behind her, lining up his body to her back perfectly.

“Talk about being eager,” Iris muttered, stiffening in his arms. “I don’t see why your shirt had to come off.”

But Eris only rolled his eyes again, resting his hand on her lower abdomen, and wrapped a leg over hers. “Relax, I won’t be ravishing you on your cycle.” he said, his voice soothingly low. “Unless, of course, you’re into that. Then we can discuss.”

Iris shot him a look over her shoulder that had him chuckling before she turned away and quietly said, “We’ll discuss at a time where I don’t feel like death, thank you.”

The Prince of Autumn snorted and gently snuggled her in closer to him as she tensed once more. “Well then, let’s get you relaxed. I promise to behave.” he said softly, and Iris hesitantly, and very slowly let her body ease into his.

Eris let it fall silent between them, slowly allowing the heat from his body and hands to spread to wherever he touched her. Focusing on her lower abdomen, he felt her start to melt against him. When a low groan escaped her, Eris bit back a grin.

“Feeling good?” he murmured.

“So good.” she whispered.

Eris willed himself not to think about when he would hear her say those words in a different moment. His cock was difficult to manage around her as is and he didn’t want to ruin the moment because he liked the sounds she was making far too much.

He pressed his fingers gently into her lower abdomen again, massaging, and chuckled when Iris whimpered.

“I think I’m dying.” she gasped, arching into his touch and he smirked.

“Murdering someone through a heated massage will be a first for me,” he said. “Though it seems like a nice way to go.”

“A most blissful death,” she said and groaned again, tensing.

Eris grimaced at her discomfort. “Is there anything different I can do to help?” he asked quietly, lifting his head to gaze at her.

Iris bit her lips and looked over her shoulder to peek at him, face flushed. “My back.” she whispered. “It’s worse. Can I turn around?”

His lips twitched at the question, and he loosened his arms. “But of course, wife.” Eris said with a small smile. “I am at your service.”

Much to his delight, Iris turned and attached herself to him with zero hesitation. Both arms settled on his chest, and she burrowed into him. He fought back a chuckle when she let out a little whine the moment his fingers made contact with her back.

“Right there.” she whispered, and he felt her stretch as he gently massaged her lower back, the heat seeping into her bones. Iris let out a moan that went directly to his cock.

He grinned wickedly, wondering how many more sounds like that he could elicit from her. Eris watched her expression, as she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut when he kneaded her lower back again.

“Fuck.” she groaned. “That feels amazing.”

“Imagine what else these fingers could do, wife.” he murmured and was delighted when she flushed.

“Shut up, please.” Iris replied and sucked in a breath when he rubbed at a particular spot that had her whimpering again.

“Had you told me, we could’ve started this earlier,” he replied with a small laugh. “You could’ve had all this heat easing your discomfort but alas, too proud to ask your husband for this.”

Iris was silent for a moment then glanced up at him and quietly said, “I thought you’d be grossed out.”

Eris tsked and shot her a look. “Blood is blood. What is there to be grossed out of?”

She shrugged as color blossomed on her cheeks and the corner of Eris’s mouth ticked up.

“Some males find these things gross.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Those males are idiots. And I am not one of them.” He took one of her hands and gently put it around his waist, tugging her closer. “This is the most natural thing in the world. The least I could do is help you through it.”

“Even when it puts you in a position like this?” she said with a small smile, and he raised his brow.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like someone who is excited.” she said dryly.

He watched her smirk and then without missing a beat, wiggled against him, too close to where he desperately wanted her but hadn’t had her yet. He closed his eyes for a second, breathing through his nose then squeezed her.

“Excited to have you in my arms?” he said tightly, refusing to give her the satisfaction. “I knew you’d always end up here.”

It was Iris’s turn to roll her eyes. “So confident. It’s a shame I’m too tired to kick you.”

He tsked. “Kick me and risk my massage coming to an end? I don’t think so.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll make it easy for you.” she said, and Eris laughed softly.

“When have you ever made anything easy for me, wife?”

Iris gave him an innocent small smile then bit her lip again when he massaged a particular spot on her back. “I have no idea what — you mean.” she choked out and Eris snorted.

“So mean yet so needy.”

“So annoying yet so useful.”

“Useful, am I?” he teased, wrapping his leg over hers once more and pulling her closer into him.

“That’s the only reason I’m allowing this to happen.” she mumbled into his chest with heated cheeks.

“Oh, wife. You’re so generous. Thank you for tolerating your husband so graciously.”

“You’re welcome. You have been promoted from husband to walking heating pad.”

His brows shot up. “That’s a promotion?”

“Oh yes.” she said and nuzzled into his chest, relishing in his heat. “Husbands? Annoying and barely tolerable. Heating pads? Amazing. Magnificent. Always welcome.”

Eris rolled his eyes, squeezing her gently and Iris’s eyes fluttered shut, her body shuddering in his arms; he felt a strong sense of pride that she was so visibly relaxed by his hands.

“In that case, I’m deeply honored to be your walking heating pad, wife.” he murmured and drank in the sight of the soft smile that graced her face.

Her eyes stayed closed as she slid an arm around his waist and sighed. “Do you think we could stay like this and just…take a nap?” she mumbled. “I’m so tired and my body aches.”

“Are you asking me to shirk my responsibilities?” he teased and watched her lips twitch. “Using me so openly like this, I should be offended.”

“Just for an afternoon.” she said, and roses bloomed on her cheeks as she added softly, “I like your hands.”

Eris’s heart leapt into his throat, and he forced himself to swallow calmly, fighting hard not to grin. “My hands like you too.” he replied quietly and continued his gentle massaging, her body putty in his arms. “I think an afternoon of just the two of us sounds doable.”

“Then we are in agreement, husband.” she said, opening her eyes to meet his with a sleepy smile and Eris wanted to devour her.

“Indeed.” he could only say. “I am but your humble servant, wife.”

[proserpina-magnus]

Hi hope your day is going well and you’re staying hydrated 💖 I wanted to ask if you could write a bittersweet angst Regulus x reader where they were very close and both got the death mark but the reader was secretly working for the order and Regulus still believes in Voldemort’s ideas so he snitches on her and as the death eaters are torturing her she has flashbacks to memories she made with him and at the end he regrets it but can’t do anything- yes I want to cry my eyes out today ✨

Bestie I am so sorry this took so long!! I had to motivate myself to write this because Regulus angst hurts me to the core.  I really hope you enjoy this! xoxo

Tacanda [ Regulus Black ]

little information before reading: The italics are passed memories.

Tacada: Things better left unsaid; Matters to be passed over in silence.

Word Count: 1336

[ Warning: female reader, (light)ANSGT, sorta cannan Reggie, blood/bruises mentioned, betrayal, heartbreak, slight bone breaking, torture, petnames such as "darling" and "mon amour", hints directed towards child abuse revolving around the Black Family, Bellatrix makes a appearance ]

"I'm sorry darling, this wasn't how it was supposed to go," Regulus's voice wasn't kind, his words were plain, said without any emotion. his dark eyes squinted slightly, opening the door to the damp and dark cellar. A few of your fellow deatheaters slipped inside the room, their wands in hand, a dark smile over their features.

"Regulus! Regulus please," you yell in desperation, your eyes are as wide as saucers, filled with fear. He only turned his back to you, nodding at the deatheaters as he walked outside of the room. The door shut tight, locking you inside.

Your arms bound by magic to the chair rest, you wiggle and squirm to try and move. You're screaming out for him to come back, saying empty promises to try and get back on their good side.

Your pleas aren't heard and if they were, Regulus had ignored them. Resentful doubt filling in your nerves, Regulus wouldn't have left you. This wasn't happening, it was just a scare tactic for you to join their side.

"Please, I'm on your side!" You cry as they hit you with the first curse, it's a simple charm of pain. Your ears fill with their horrible laughs, their mumbles of insults slipping past your mind.

"I'm [ name ], you're Regulus Black right?" Your voice expands through the now open train compartment. You don't wait for his answer, instead, you slip onto the seat opposite of the smaller boy.

"Yeah, why do you wanna know," the boy said, a huff in his voice. His hair was combed back with gel, making him look more boyish.

Somehow, you had gotten him to talk to you and by the end of the train ride, you both had been well acquainted. You will never forget the first smile you ever saw him make, it was heart stopping.

Your body felt waves of pain, a stinging vibration hitting your skin. You saw their wand move from the corner of your eye, hearing them yell the Crucio curse. A loud scream ripped from your throat, your nails clawing at the wooden chair.

You fell back onto the floor, your stomach pressing into the chair leg as you stay strapped to it. The deatheaters chuckle insanely, each taking turns to send you awful spells.

"Reggie! We have all our classes together! Even potions!" You exclaim. It was your fourth year, you had been worried all summer that you wouldn't get to spend time with him.

"Really? That's... great," Regulus emitted, his voice was bored but his eyes were wide. He was filled with joy. Regulus flushed red when your arms wrapped around his side, pulling him closer into a warm hug.

He shrugged you off, looking around to see if his Slytherin friends had seen. You pouted, saddened. Regulus made a small frown, before leaning down and placing a sweet kiss on your cheek.

"Fuck you," you spat at them, sour blood leaking from your opened wounds. Your lip was bruised, a gashing wound on your forehead. You struggled to keep your eyes open, sneering at them.

"You fucking bitch," one of them rasped, bringing his hand into your hair as he grabbed it. He smashed your head into his knee, a hurtful crack filling to room.

With blood seeping from your nose, a dainty pain ached over every part of your body, you let out a cackling breath. Laughing in their face only made them angrier, another painful spell was casted.

You saw white flashes, eyes blurred as you choked on your blood. Metallic copper filled your mouth, you struggled to keep your teeth from biting your tongue.

Regulus planted his lips on yours, the Slytherins cheering in the distance. The Slytherins had won a quidditch match against Gryffindor, but Regulus had pulled you to the side behind the stands instead of celebrating with his mates.

Your eyes widened, his sweat and dirty hand coming to hold your jaw. It took him 5 years to finally kiss you and you weren't about to waste it. Before he could pull away, you brought him back down with a fistful of his hair.

"Regulus..." you whispered, lips warm as you feel the heat rise from the back of your neck. His eyelashes batted, he wasn't the small boy he used to be.

"I'm so in love with you, I have been since the moment you stepped into my compartment during the first year. Please, I'm begging you, love me back," Regulus whispers, his words hushed like he can't believe he's admitting it. Your eyes fill with longing, a gorgeous smile on your lips.

"Oh Reggie," you whisper back, pulling him down to a hug. He pulls you closer, holding you like it's the last time he would get to hug you.

Regulus listened outside the door, hearing snaps and loud crying whimpers from the room. His fingernails dug into his palm, eyes filled with rage. He gripped his wand, his knuckles during white.

Was the lord's acceptance more important than love? He shared wonderful moments with you, you've seen him cry and all the possible worst parts of him, how could he repay you with such cruel punishments?

"She's not the girl she was Regulus, she lied to us... she lied to you," Bellatrix whispered in a chilly voice, but Regulus paid her no mind as he stared hardly towards the ground.

Regulus almost lost it when he heard you call out for him, his eyes filling with hot tears. He was surprised he was hit from showing so much emotion towards a traitor. "Suck it in! A Black doesn't cry!" Bellatrix hisses, pulling him harshly away from the door.  Regulus let himself get pulled, he felt like a failure.

You hummed to yourself, a happy glow flowing around you. You had attended to some plants in the garden, casting charms to keep them healthy. Regulus watched with loving eyes, a small smile on his lips. There were only a few more weeks of school left, soon you and Regulus would leave Hogwarts and start your lives together.

"Mon amour, let me show you something after you're done," He called, making you turn your head to see him. With a confused smile on your lips, you asked him; "what are you going to show me?"

"It's a surprise darling, I think you'll enjoy it," Regulus persuaded, you finished charming the plants quickly. You turned completely around, seeing Regulus hold out a hand for you to take.

Your hand found his, clutching it with warmth. He brought you away from the garden, leading you back to the castle. You kept persisting he tell you what he wanted to show you, but he only smiled at you and kept walking.

In a moment, Regulus was on one knee, a small box in his hand. Your eyes peered open, taking in a deep breath as you watched him open the box.

"Please, I'm begging you, will you marry me?"  Regulus asked, you nodded your head as quickly as you could, your words getting caught in your throat.

"Of course ill marry you!" You choke out, watching on shaky limbs as Regulus pushed the silver ring against your finger. Your eyes filled with tears, Regulus soon scooping you up in his arms, twirling you around the room.

Your eyes had shut tight, they had no reason to open. You thought about your last order meeting, a promise to Sirius that you would change his brother's mind and get him on the good side. Your promise fell short, laying in a puddle of your dark blood, you let out one final cry. "Regulus please, I'm begging you,"

Your lover was long gone, you had only wished for death at this moment. Nothing could hurt worse than the heartbreak that filled your lungs, or maybe it was blood.

"Stupid bitch," was the last words you heard, before a blinding green light casts over the room. No amount of begging could bring you back, not even if Regulus said please.

[bokettochild]

Hi! I really like the fics you write, and for the requests I was thinking some Wild and Legend bonding? I’m a big angst fan, but fluff always makes me happy :)

Okay, so, this was partially inspired by this, but also this.

I'm not really sorry, this has been brewing since the last update and I finally wrote it. That and I broke my writers bloc and figured out how to write Legend again!

Suffer 🙂

Sunset Comforts

Twilight was dead.

That was the thought flashing through his mind as he called the younger heroes to order. The worry that stung in his heart as Hyrule and Four charged towards the enemy that had downed their friend with ease.

A gleaming axe had struck the wolf form of their brother mid spring, and the pained and breathless whimper of the canine mixing with the wet squelch of the blade pulling free echoed in his mind.

Legend’s stomach rolled, the need to turn to the side and be sick growing as the battle continued on around him.

He didn’t know how he took command, simply let his emotions fall to the back burner, pressing down the need to vomit along with memories of a dark sewer, a gleaming blade, a wizard's cackle and wet and wheezing breaths. He focused his gaze on the enemy and called out orders, forcing the hero’s spirit to take the reins while a young hero fell to the background, eyes wide and full of tears as sobs built up in a throat that words had not poured from in years.

Blades sang a death dirge as monsters had fallen; enemies laid low by the weapons of the heroes still standing. There were no words to the song as an eerie silence hung over the field, only the sounds of battle and the occasional cry filling air that felt thick and muddled as they fought. And when at last the final monster had fallen from Wild’s blade, and the shadow had long since faded back away from where it had come, leaving the heroes bloody and breathless, Time and Wild had sprung to the rancher’s side.

Legend stood to the side, hands gripping his blade, ignoring the blood that trailed over his clothes and skin, eyes wide as they’d watched Time firmly press Warriors’ scarf to the gaping wound in -the now hylian- Twilight’s chest.

White and red clashed beneath blackening green, and Legend’s stomach revolted again at the sight, one hand pressing to his lips as he’d been forced to turn away, the sight to much for him. Bloods stench was heavy on the air, death and destruction smelling of gaping wounds and foul flesh, and it made his stomach roll. There was no task he could complete as he stood to the side and allowed the others to fuss and heal, and the mere smell of the blood on his hands made him wince back nausea.

He was covered in the stuff, it coated his body and overwhelmed his senses, and as the other’s fussed over far more pressing matters than blood; a wound, gaping and black with shining bones exposed to the air and torn flesh and-

Legend keeled over, heaving and wheezing for breath as the contents of his stomach found a new home in the carcass of a slain bokoblin.

The camp that night was plagued by the eerie heaviness in the air that had lain over the battle-field.

Warriors leaned back against Sky’s side, hands shaking from having laid the final stitches, eyes bleary as the Skyloftian gently pressed a potion to the captain’s lips. Not far from the two, Hyrule’s glimmering hands worked over Twilight’s chest weakly, shoulders drooping and hands shaking until Four had gently pulled him away with his one good hand, the other wrapped and hung in a sling from his neck as he gently ushered the traveler towards his bed roll to sleep.

Time, to no one’s surprise, sat at Twilight’s side, the ranchers hand clasped tightly in his own as worry creased already heavy brows, a single eye dark in the fading light as a song, bitter and almost tearful rings through the air. There are no words, but Warriors’ voice, heavy and weary, joins in, and though Twilight’s body lies still and the rancher hasn’t opened his eyes, there’s a flicker of his lids as his breath evens slightly, the faintest of hums sounding wet and broken from blood-stained lips.

Legend turns his gaze away.

None of the others had seen his shameful reaction earlier, and as much as he wants to be of aid, he knows that the blood that coats the bandages wrapped around Twilight’s chest and spatters over his clothing will only made him ill again, which will be in no ways helpful.

Violet eyes drift over leaves and stone before coming to rest on the form of the Champion, curled around himself at the furthest edges of the camp, fingers digging into his arms as his eyes remain fixed on his mentor. The vet blinks in surprise as his gaze trails from Twilight’s broken form to the huddled form of the man’s protégé, hiding on the edges of the camp and making no moves to approach him.

Does Wild have trouble with the blood too?

A closer look reveals that the champion’s face is red, eyes puffy and tear tracks rolling down his face, but the gaze on the champion’s face is hard, and Legend finds himself shaking off shivers from the intensity of cornflower hues as they stare across the camp, resolute and dark.

He’s useless to the healers, and the sight of Twilight’s blood streaked across all the surfaces around camp, red and wet and warm and full of life that should be staying inside him and not bleeding out because he needs to live, he needs to live, he needs to stay alive! Link can’t live without him he can’t it’s just not possible please-

The vet forces himself to breathe, shaking his head and blinking back his own tears as he moved towards his fallen friend’s protégé. He can’t offer any help to the others, but at the very least he can knock Wild out of his own head.

Twilight would want that.

As feet pick across the camp, bare because he can’t stand the ooze that coats his boots, he wonders when he began to wonder what the rancher would want or do.

Wild’s fingers are digging into his arms, blood springing up beneath his nails as they grip tighter, and Legend has to fight the urge to flinch away at the sight. It’s shameful, his aversion. He’s a hero and he’s killed more enemies than he’s seen seasons. Yet, he still flinches back at pooling red, and the droplets that roll down the champion’s arms to drip onto the ground are enough to make his stomach lurch again.

“Quit it.” He scolds, positioning himself in the way of the kid’s line of sight, blocking off the sight of the rancher as cornflower blue flicks up towards him.

His stomach rolls again at the ethereal glare that’s cast his way, eyes too old and a soul too shattered for the young body they’re set in. Still, he’s fought a corrupted goddess, he can meet the gaze of the champion, but it’s hard, and he hates it, but he forces himself regardless. Violet and blue clash, trails of gold set in each as both boys glare at each other, both disapproving in their own way before Legend shakes his head, reaches down and pulls the champion’s hands free of his arms. “None of that now. You don’t need more scars, kid.”

Wild’s eyes blink slowly, but there’s no recognition in them, and Legend finds panic flooding through hm as he realizes that Wild may or may not even be fully aware at the moment.

Great Seven, what would Twilight do?

Wild is stiff as a board and silent as death itself as Legend kneels before him, the kid’s gaze unmoving as he glares over Legend’s head, right between his ears, to where Twilight lays in his mentor’s hold. Pain leeches into the silent cold of ethereal blue, and something inside the vet shatters, his chest burning lightly at the pain and hopelessness that crosses over the kids face for a brief second before it returns to stony coldness.

Ah.

“It’s not your fault.” He breathes, crossing his legs underneath himself as he gazes up at eyes that won’t meet his own. “Wild! You can’t blame yourself; you hear me?” His own gaze hardens as he focused on the kid. “Twilight chose to chase the Shadow. It was his choice-” Glowing blue turns to him with a ferocity that nearly steals his breath, but Legend presses forwards, golden tinging at his own irises as his voice rumbles low and firm, blessedly free of its usual squeaks and breaks. “Twilight chose to fight. I’m not saying this is his fault, but it isn’t yours either.”

The champion’s gaze is stony and silent.

“You had no way of stopping this.” Legend repeats, hand clasping the kid’s arms just below the shoulders and gaze heavy as it meets the flickering blue before him. “You were on the other side of the battlefield, your arrows would have only made things worse and you had no way, on Din’s green earth, to reach him before the shadow struck.”

Wild’s eyes flicker up to Twilight’s broken form again, but the vet catches the kids face in his hands, eyes firm and glimmering slightly in faded light of the sunset. “Do you understand?”

“I failed.” The kid croaks out, broken and stiff and every word labored as if it is a weight that holds down the kid’s tongue. Each weight falls hard and heavy on Legend’s shoulders, pain dancing through his chest at the broken soul that cracks through the stone gaze. “I couldn’t save him.”

“No one could.” Legend presses, voice catching in his throat.

“I should have.”

The words are simple, but they bear a weight that nearly fells the veteran hero right then and there, and he watches in horror as tears pool behind Wild’s eyes as they turn to gaze at the dirt at his feet.

“I’m supposed to be the Hylia forsaken Hero.” The kid curses softly. “And I can���t even save my best friend.”

“You can’t save everyone.” He murmurs in reply, his own gaze struggling to stay on the kid before him and to not follow it to the ground.

Red hair and a bubbling laugh ring in his memory alongside a booming laugh that is weakened by blood that trails from an open wound, hidden in the sewers below the castle. Hands that held his own, laughter that rang with his and voices that carried joy and wonder on tehri lips as they filled his heart and breathed life into his soul.

Both of them are gone. He couldn’t save them. He’ll never have another chance to try.

“But Twilight is still alive. He’s still breathing and...” A wet laugh stutters up in his chest, broken and wrong, but impossible to hold back. “He’s still trying to sing on key.”

Wild’s eyes freeze the breath in his throat, hard and shattered and angry as they bore into him. “Twilight is still alive because Warriors and Time saved him.” The kid hisses. “He’s alive because everyone else banded together and staved off the monsters. He’s alive because you all are heroes enough, that while I was pulling my sorry ass off the top of a wall, you were all down there protecting him!”

The kid’s voice rises and those behind them turn to stare, but Legend isn’t cowed. He’s heard many a worse speech from his own shattered soul ringing in his mind again and again over the years. The kid’s broken voice and aching soul aren’t enough to bring him to tears and reassurance.

Twilight might treat the kid with care and grace that one would a wounded child, which Wild needs. But the kid also needs the sense slapped into him, and Legend’s very good at that.

“You all protect everyone!” Tears spill down the kid’s cheeks as he glares at Legend. “All I ever can do is sit by while everyone else struggles, and I can’t even offer help!”

“Wild-”

“My whole world died while I was sleeping!” Wild’s voice breaks, blue eyes sparking with lights that aren’t natural or Hylian.

“And I killed mine!” Legend shoots back, gaze and voice both dark as he meets the kid’s stare. “You’re not the only one of us to have ever failed!”

The champion blinks at him in shock, and Legend takes the moment to catch his breath, eyes blinking open again to meet the kid’s. “I destroyed a whole world. People, places, families and homes. Just blotted them out of existence.” His voice is firm but tears prick at his eyes as he glares down the taller hero. “You aren’t the only one who messed up.

“What matters though, is that when you were given a second chance, you took it. You stood to your feet, after being killed in battle you came back. And you walked right up to Ganon and drop-kicked his ass back into whatever hell it came from.” Violet and gold swirl in the vet’s gaze as it bores into Wild’s, the kid’s expression fading just left of wonder as he stares back. “You are still living your second chance. You are going to make new mistakes. You are going to get hurt. Other people are going to get hurt. What matters is that you don’t spend all your time crying over what you aren’t, and instead use it to become what you can be.”

The vet’s gaze softens. “You’re a good kid, Wild. And a great hero. Don’t ruin that by worrying about the past. You don’t live there, so you don’t belong there. Get your ass in gear and start worrying about the now.”

Wild opens his mouth to protest but is cut off by Legend. “And I don’t mean fussing about a battle that’s already lost. I mean by getting over there and hugging the stuffing out of your grand-mentor or whatever the shit Time is to you, because the guy is on the verge of tears and none of the rest of us can help.” The vet cracks a weak and strained smile. “Twilight’s strong. He’ll pull through. Don’t make me have to explain that you’re depressed because you can’t accept what he sees in you.”

He’s not fast enough to pull away before Wild’s arms are wrapping around him in a tearful hug, sniffles and sobs escaping the kid as he whispers thanks into Legend’s blood matted hair, and Legend can’t even bring himself to pull away. Instead, he gently rubs the kids back, grumbling back fondly until Wild pulls away, rubbing at his eyes and nose he offers Legend a wobbly smile, before standing and making his way back into the center of the camp.

Time’s face when Wild comes over and wraps his arms around the man is priceless, the tune on his lips fading out as the man folds Wild into his arms with a quiet sob, and Legend fights back a twitch of his lips as the two hold tight to each other.

Night falls as the others fade off into sleep.

Legend had finally pulled himself back into the camp once the lights had dimmed enough that the blood across their faces and clothes could be mistaken for dirt and shadow, and while the others cling to each other in their sleep, his eyes are fixed on the rancher.

Twilight’s breaths are sharp and strained, chest stuttering and stopping agonizingly often as the night continues on. Each time it stutters, Legend has to hold his hand above the rancher’s mouth and nose, waiting for warm air to caress his palm. Each time it comes late, panic blossoms inside of him, and Legend has to hold his own breath as he waits for it to eventually puff out again.

Time sleeps not far off, Wild’s curled in his arms where the two had dozed off after their nerve-wracking evening, and Sky is settled not far from them, Hyrule pressed to one side and Wind to the other, and Four lying across the lot of them while they sleep.

Warriors sits at the edge of the camp, hands working over the blades of his brothers, cleaning away blood and dirt and sweat with practiced movements as his gaze flickers from the forest to the fallen hero, concern in the royal blue gaze as it turns every so often to Legend.

He knows the captain wants to tell him to sleep, wants to tell him to rest, but seeing as the man himself doesn’t seem able to do it either, neither presses the other to sleep. Grim understanding flashes across the camp when their eyes chance to meet, and Warrior’s turns his attention back to Legend’s sword where it lays across his lap, hands working over it while its owner sits beside Twilight.

He doesn’t know when he’s taken Twilight’s hand in his own. Doesn’t know when his fingers start trailing over worn scars and calluses, taking comfort in the warmth that they find there as he holds it close to his chest, breaths deep and stuttering as his eyes flicker over Twilight’s pale face.

“You better be okay.” He whispers, voice breaking slightly as tear prick at his eyes. “I told the kid you will be, but it you make that a lie I’ll-” A sob breaks the silence, one that Warrior’s politely ignores as Legend drops his gaze, clinging to the still hand. “You’ve got to make it through this, Twi. Please! Please!”

Scarred and calloused fingers twitch softly, clasping Legend’s own weakly as another sob shatters the silence.

[mxvladdy]

I have a prompt idea! The Brothers reacting to an MC that can regenerate after they die. Someone stabbed them? The wound will close in a bit. Did they fall from a high place and their body shattered? It’s all good, they’re body’ll just snap everything back into place as they’re conscious. We’re they poisoned? They’ll treat it like a stomach bug and be fine the next day. Funny part is MC could tell them the worst ways they died during their childhood in a lighthearted way which makes things more disturbing, especially since demon threats against them won’t work.

Ok first time I read this prompt I had a good laugh bc all I could think about was an MC that made that little squeaking noise those rubber chickens make when they inflate every time they regenerated lmaoooo. Could you imagine the pavlovian response all the brothers get if they hear a squeak? Like Lucifer would be trying to sleep and Cerberus finds one of his old chew toys and the fear it brings is legendary.

TW: Death, Blood, Injuries

Lucifer

When you first tell him he has no idea if it was a crude joke or not. You are so blasé about something that should traumatize you. He hates how you snort at his every threat. What good is blackmail if you don’t go for it?

He does not believe you at first. Just another little human talking big trying to impress him. He would keep a keen eye on you too, making sure they have no reason to get even so much of a scrape on their knee. Believe you or not he doesn’t need this program to fail. Then Belphie happened. Seeing your lifeless body made so many things happen in his mind he felt physically ill. He hadn’t felt like crying so hard since Lilith…

And then you sit up and crack your spine, like you were waking up from a nap instead of getting up after being thrown from the second story.

He-is relieved, and terrified. Were humans supposed to do that? He doesn't remember reading this particular ability in his father’s schematics. He believes you now nonetheless.

But he still doesn’t let you just go getting hurt whenever you feel like it.

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head firmly. He is unfazed by your cute little pout and huffing.

“Lotan is friendly!” You try again pushing the form back at him defiantly. Lucifer picks it up again against his better judgment and scoffs. Friendly, if Lotan is friendly then Cerberus was a saint. “Come on what’s the worst that can happen? I’m out of school for a day or two if things get dicey.” You plead leaning up and over his desk. Ugh. He rubs at his temple in annoyance.

“The fact that you think skipping a few days of school because you became fish food as a minor hindrance terrifies me.” He drolls but picks up his feathered quill irregardless. You squeal in delight and hug him fiercely, managing to pull a smile out of him. They grab the liability agreement and run out the door already shouting for Levi to hurry up before Lucifer changes his mind. He chuckles leaning back in his chair. Fine, if they are happy… let it be on their head if it severs. Wait- could they regenerate from that? “Shit.”

Mammon

He believes you. Not because he takes their word for it but the first night on duty as your caretaker you fall out of his balcony window.

One minute they are having a heated argument about his unwanted duties, him hovering over you while you lean up against the railing refusing to break eye contact. Next thing he knows the old stone gives and you both tumble.

He has wings and catches himself. You- not so much. He can still hear the sickening crunch of bone meeting stone when he lays awake at night. The first thing he worries about is how much trouble he would be in with Lucifer that he failed again. He's a blubbering mess over your body swearing he would do better if they would just get up. Whatever you want it’s theirs if you just open their eyes.

And of course, you do. He won’t admit to the scream that erupts from his mouth when you ask him to swear on that deal or they are going to Lucifer as soon as they can feel their legs. He agrees readily, glad his hide is saved for now.

When you two become closer he figures why not make some money off of this little quirk. Enter the troublesome duo of grifters.

You whimper, hamming it up for the terrified looking demon glazing between your broken leg and Mammon wiggling his ring heavy fingers at them. “Look what ya did to my human.” He tuts. “What, ya don’t look both ways when riding.” He kicks at the upended bike by his feet. The demon sputters swearing that they did and neither of them had been in the way.

“Mammon~” His human sniffles flashing him a teary eyed pout. To the other lesser demon it looked like a plea, but Mammon knew it was a warning that your leg would start mending soon.

“Who do you think is gonna pay for this?” He goes in for the kill waving his free arm down at his human’s prone form. “You want Lucifer or Diavolo ta hear about this? Ya know this human is special to us.” The demon blanches and shakes its head. Terrified it threw its wallet at the avatar of greed and bolted leaving their bike and bag behind. Waiting for the demon to be completely out of earshot Mammon turns with a dazzling smile. “Damn,” He whistles, helping his human back to their feet. Already the bone and skin had mended leaving only an ugly red stain on the fabric of their uniform. “I think you just moved up the ranks of my most favorite things. Gonna rival Goldie soon if this picks up...” He opens the wallet and pockets the handful of cash in it, tossing the worn fabric to the street floor.

“Hey.” Mammon looks down at you. You were now scowling eying his pant pocket. “Don’t forget your side of the bargain.” He chuckles raising his hands in defeat.

“Alright- Alright. One stupidly expensive ice cream coming up.” He can't hide his blush when you hug his arm close to your chest, excitedly leading him back to the main street.  

Leviathan

Oh like in that one anime???

But really, he is the first to take your word for it. Finds it kinda neat. Not that he is going to test it. Who would he have to play with if you were just yanking his chain?

He listens to absolutely spine chilling tales of your little “mishaps” as a child. But you brush off his concern. Don’t worry about it! Makes for great stories. To tell right?

Of course, when he sees it first hand he forgets for a moment that you would eventually feel better. He left his tank open one night to clean out some debris gunking up the water pump. Damn things get stalled so frequently now. He turns his back for a moment to get a tool and the next he smells human blood in the water!

He scoops you out of the water before whatever fiendish creatures he holds in his aquarium can take a bite and gets you to solid ground. He is panicking hardcore, he doesn’t feel a pulse. He sees that they smashed their head, blood pooling sluggishly down your temple. You must have slipped on the wet tank edge and hit their head.

Just when he is about to name another Henry in your honor you pop up spitting out whatever water that had gotten into their lungs. They flash him a knowing smirk at his red-rimmed eyes and joke that they have a killer headache.

Nurse Levi to the rescue!

Levi checks in on you again, leaning over the edge of his tank. “D-don’t you move a muscle!” He shouts down to you. Squinting he sees a hand emerging from the mound of pillows and blankets inside his tub-bed. you shoot him a quick thumbs up before turning your attention back to his giant flat screen. “You sure you don’t need Barbatos or some pain meds?” He frets. He was close to just giving up on the pump and coming to take care of his miraculously healed guest.

“Levi I’m fine! Not even sleepy.” Your muffled reply wafts up to him. You push down some of the blankets to give him a relaxed smile. “See not even a scar.” You show him the side of their head that had been cut. Sure enough, nothing was there but a smoothed patch of skin. It lessens some of his panic, but barely. He knew internal damage was still a thing to humans.

Finishing up quickly with the pump he slithers back down to your side sheepishly. He had apologized what felt like a thousand times, but he was ready to drop a couple thousand more if need be. His looming causes you to look up from the anime you were watching. The flashing blue and yellow lights illuminate their calm gaze. None of the panic he felt seemed to transfer to you. “Want to join me?” You pat at the covers. “Waters warm.” You chuckle at their own joke pulling the blue covers down and away to give him room to join them.

“I-if you’re sure.” He stammers wiping at his face to hide his flush. You nod, patting the empty side again. He joins you snuggling close, he runs a hand where a gruesome scar had been not even an hour again. You nuzzle in close. His slightly cool fingers felt great on your skin before turning back to the screen completely nonplussed.

What a weird human...

Satan

Much like Lucifer doesn’t believe you. He has never heard or read about humans being able to do that. Will not believe them and gets annoyed by the “fake” stories you kept insisting were real.

The fact that a single human has such a vividly morbid imagination fascinates him, but he won’t divulge in your little fantasy. There is only so much foolishness he can deal with.

He forgets about it after a while and you stop bringing it up. If he doesn’t believe you so be it, he’ll find out one day surely, you aren’t exactly the most careful with your body. When he does find out it about does him in.

He had warned them of climbing on his bookshelves. He doesn’t have them tethered down or stable. He doesn’t need them to be. His shelves would never even dare to topple on him. But this weak little human takes his room as a personal jungle gym, climbing up him and his things for a book. They could just ask but Devil’s forbid they did something halfway intelligent.

You hear him fretting through the fog coating your senses. His fingers shakily poking at your crushed abdomen and legs all bent akimbo clearing broken. “Don’t be dead-please don’t do this.” He hisses about ready to use magic to put you back together again. You pull your strength and grab his hand before he can interfere with your natural healing ability.

He starts, green eyes looking down relieved and amazed at you. “Don’t.” You croak, already feeling your lungs and rib cage healing. “I’m good.”  

“You’re good!” He shouts voice cracking in exasperation. “I’ve seen the aftermath of Beel’s feeding rampages that have looked better!” You snort pushing his hands away to rest up on your elbows. Eh- he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“I look like a chewed-up burger huh?” You joke laughing at his stunted and slightly disgusted look. “I’ll be ok, just help me up? My legs are always tingly after healing.” Wordlessly he follows your instructions amazed at how well you are handling all of this. Were you actually human? You stand on wobbly legs bending and popping your joints. You give yourself a quick check over “Tada!” You give him two very bloody thumbs ups once you see that you are back to normal. “It’s all good!”

He shakes his head bewildered. “I-if you say so.” Satan wrinkles his nose looking at the mess of your clothes and his room. “Go wash up. I’ll get you a new set of clothes and work on this mess.” You nod already heading to his slightly cleaning bathroom. His warm hand wraps around your wrist catching you mid stride. “Don’t tell anyone about this ok?” He pleads. If anyone knew that he had been so foolish, he would never live it down.

You nod miming zipping your lips. “Betcha believe me know huh?”

He rolls his eyes turning to the task at hand. “Don’t push your luck, or next time I’ll leave you under a shelf.”    

Asmodeus

Believes you. You have never lied before so why do it now over something so trivial. Humans die all the time and if you say you can't then ok. He asks tons of questions about how you found out about this.

He doesn't like the stories you tell but doesn't find it off-putting how easily you talk about it. He's been around the block with mortals and they cope in all sorts of ways.

He cuddles you and coos over every story you tell then shoots off hundreds of compliments about your complexion. It's amazing how well your skin holds up to all the foolish actions of your past.

Even though he trusts you and your stories he still is super careful with you. You are not going to get hurt on his watch, absolutely not! Will patch you up if you need it all while gripping about your foolishness.

But accidents happen, and even the most watchful demon trips up sometimes.

Asmo tuts over you rubbing at the potion burning away at your flesh. "I told you the maroon bottle love." You hiss as the antiseptic hits muscle.

"Maroon and burgundy look the same, bite me!" He clicks his tongue and bites off the argument brewing within him. How can you not see how different the two colors are. You grouch some more while he works on getting the rest of his potion off your cheek. You had just wanted to use one of his acne toner, the one that smelled like cucumber and rose. He was preoccupied with his eyeliner but told you to just grab it from his shelf. He had a lot of bottles and a lot of them were definitely not for human use. 

You unfortunately just happened to pick one of them. The one you nabbed was a toner built for his stronger skin. It ate away at your cheeks and flesh of your palm on contact. It's burning and tingling making you yelp in surprise. Luckily for you, Asmo acted fast coming up from behind and knocking the toner-soaked cotton pad from your reddening fingers. He curses at you the whole way to his bathroom. Done with your right cheek and hand he nods in approval, seeing your flesh already knitting back together. "At least you have lovely bone structure. Ahhh~ I'm jealous!" He pokes a nail at the exposed bone of your cheekbone. The mending muscles and nerves almost growing over his nail before he could pull away. You quirk a brow.

"Want them? I'm pretty sure I could regrow my jawline before anybody would notice. " You shrug taking the washcloth from him to dap at your left cheek. Asmo laughs, it was a ridiculously tempting offer after all.

"Could you?" He taps at his own chin in thought. You glance back at him and sits on the toilet. In theory, you probably could. Hadn't happened...yet.  

"Ye- just give me a heads up first? And maybe some good booze to knock me out." You say only half-joking. Asmo nods eagerly, twirling a lock of soft tawny hair. He might take you up on the offer.  

Beelzebub

He doesn't want to know and he never wants to find out. He just likes you too much to see you get hurt :(. It gets to the point where you cannot bring any past stories of incidents (no matter how funny you think they are). If a story comes out be prepared to be carried everywhere by this gentle giant. If you won't cease your foolishness then he will.

Though he probably should have heard a few of the stories. Mostly the ones about poisons and inedible things you use to eat. A lot of his world revolves around food and he loves to share it with you.

He never heard you complain about the foods he had you try with him. It wasn't until Simeon and Luke tagged along did he learn the awful truth that he had been poisoning you almost every time you two went out.  

Takes him forever to get out of his head about it. You are clearly fine and never brought it up because you just loved spending time bonding with him.

You find him in the ally behind the restaurant. His massive form curled in on itself from where he sat. "Why didn't you tell me?" He rumbles hearing you approach to stand next to him. "I could have killed you." You sit squat next to him resting your arms on your knees.

"I mean...if we are keeping count it would be dead about eight times over by this point." You meant it to be funny but he groans in anguish pulling at his hair. You grab his fists and pry them from his scalp. "Hey! Hey!" You pat his knuckles, eyes filled with concern. "I'm still here right, still kicking and eating all these awesome foods, don't worry. Please?"  You can tell your words do not calm him but he doesn't pull from your grasp either. "If you are curious, all the foods that would have done me dirty just gave me some bad cramps and gas for the evening. Nothing a tum and hot tea couldn't fix." You fill the air with useless chatter, all while stroking his knuckles.

You really wish that Luke hadn't said anything. Simeon had read the room, his neat brown brows raising in astonishment as you sank into the meal Beel bought for you. But he otherwise stayed silent tucking into his own meal without a fuss. You couldn't completely blame Luke though. He was young and just looking out for you. Though, he-well- both of you could have handled it better. With him screaming and you screaming, it was a recipe for disaster.

Beel rises a few minutes later rubbing at his burning eyes. "Are you sure you are ok?" He checks in with you once more. You nod perking up as you see him grunt in acceptance. "Just let me know next time you can't eat something."

"But it tastes good!" You pout. He frowns not budging from his spot until he sees you sigh in defeat and agree. No more purposely poisoning yourself just for munchies. "Fine-but you are just saying that to get extra portions."  

Belphegor

He finds out when he kills your dumbass for believing him. It totally harshed his vibe.

Here he was getting an amazing monologue, reveling in his eldest's brothers' anguish and look of anger from the prince. He was ready to give his final performance and hopefully wipe the floor with that red-headed bastard plans to "commingle"

He tossed your "lifeless" body from him, taking a sick amount of pleasure in the way your body flopped down the stairs. He notices how the other brothers seem completely unfazed by your corpse at their feet.

Huh? Perhaps they didn't understand the actions he did. Or maybe they truly have given into the demons they had become. He stops his tirade only when he watches Asmo bend down and poke at your cheek. He didn't look sad, just merely annoyed. Like you were taking too long to get up.

But that is impossible. You would never get up again... 

Mammon rolls his eyes at his youngest brother's actions. Honestly, he loved the little edge lord, but this was ridiculous. He had a racket to go check on. His hand drifts down slowly to his pocket. If he just angled it right he could probably check his phone without looking rude. He makes eye contact with Satan and jerks his head exasperatedly at Lucifer and Belphegor going at it. The blonde shakes his head and shrugs. Slowly he inches closer so Mammon can go on his phone without getting caught. Covering for Mammon Satan looks around the room feigning interest.

Beelzebub and Leviathan seemed mildly more attentive to what was going on than him. The latter of the two eating it up like an arch in an anime, while the former was trying desperately to placate his twin. Asmodeus on the other hand was having none of this. He plops down next to your body turning your head to face him. He checks you over quietly ignoring the storm exploding out of his elder brother and the rest of the gang. "Honestly darling," He strokes the bridge of your nose, feeling the bone and cartilage shifting back into place beneath his finger. "is this a good time to ask if I can have your jawline?" He sees the corner of your lips twitch.  He leans in and whispers in your ear. "How long are you going to play dead?"

"Am I boring you, brother?" Asmo glances up from his position over your head. Belphegor looks down at his face apoplectic with rage at being ignored. "And I see you on your phone Mammon!"

"Shove it! I got shit to do!"

Asmo gets to his feet dusting off his pants and ruffles. He shrugs up at Belphie who was doing a great interpretation of Lucifer when angry. He was so much like Lucifer it was scary sometimes. "Sorry honey! Just check on my bestie."

Belphie snorts making his way down to the first floor. "Just checking I killed-"

You pop up grunting loudly as your spine reconnects. "Help your bestie up?" You raise a hand for Asmo who happily takes it. You turn your back to a dumbfounded Belphie and Lucifer, both not understanding what just happened.

"About time." Mammon sighs pocketing his phone. "I got some idiots we can swindle out of some grimm."

"Oi!" Satan butts in cutting Mammon off. "You had your turn! I have some spells they said they would help me test out."

You grin, not fighting it as the two tug at you like a toy between toddlers.

"Enough!" The two jump away from you at Lucifer's roar. You squeak in surprise when a firm leather-gloved hand spins you around so you could stand face to face with a fully shifted Lucifer. "You!" He runs his hands over you in disbelief. "How..." Your first conversation with him comes back to mind.

I can't die so try to threaten me with something else next time K?

"Would someone tell me WHAT is going on and why they are still breathing!" Belphie pushes through to you and Lucifer.

Beel grabs him up before he could get his claws into you again, stroking his dark hair like you would an angry cat. "It's a long story..."

[giorno-plays-piano]

Tainted Apollo

Pairing: Kars x Reader

Warnings: mentions of gore, death of minor characters, slight allusion to dubcon.

Words: 3056.

Summary: Finding a peculiar sculpture in the ruins of an ancient temple, you realize you have stumbled upon a god set in stone.

P.S. I forgot to post this one here haha

____________

"Good morning, Sire." You welcomed him as you stretched in your improvised bed, an old metal container of some kind with a pile of blankets on top of it.

Rubbing your sleepy eyes, you slowly put your feet on the floor and adjusted the hem of your nightgown so he wouldn't see too much of your flesh. Kars always found this habit of yours ridiculous. He had been a piece of stone for God knew how long, and even after you found him he'd been confined to bed for no less than a year, barely moving and unable to speak. Kars was sure you didn't even understand what he was, but you still cared about covering your body in front of him. What a pathetic habit, he thought.

When you found him in the sands, somewhere in what appeared to be a long abandoned temple that had been in ruins even before he reached the Earth, you first thought he was some kind of sculpture, adoring his unusual but captivating form. He hated you watching him with your eyes wide, even touching a lock of his petrified hair - you were just a mortal human woman, one of those he had been determined to wipe out, but you had the audacity to act like his sole purpose was to lay in the sand for your entertainment. If he could move, he would definitely end your pathetic like there and then. But Kars couldn't.

It must have been ages, if not a millennium, since he had been banished from Earth. Drifting through darkness, his body had turned to stone, his limbs losing their ability to move - regardless of him finally becoming an ultimate form of life, it brought him nothing but eternal suffering and oblivion. Kars had stopped functioning like a living being almost completely. Almost. If he hadn't been returned back to Earth by some accident, he would continue his meaningless journey to the stars till the end of times because the darkness enveloping him had no limits. It felt like being thrown into a cold throat of some gigantic monstrous creature, but instead of reaching its stomach and finally dying he had been forced to circulate somewhere in between, neither dead nor alive. If silly humans thought the Hell was real, it had to be it.

He couldn't remember what force sent him back to Earth as he could think of no one doing it intentionally, but it didn't matter as long as he could reach Earth. Regardless of what would happen after, Kars knew he would survive and regain his power, finally giving humanity what it deserved for what they had done to him.

Funny, but when his mind had awoken from hibernation, Kars realized there was no one to take revenge on. Humanity had successfully wiped itself out.

Even after year and a half that passed, he still saw just you, a girl who had brought his petrified form to her home to take care of him knowing he was alive - by the time you met him Kars was able to open his eyes. Oh, he remembered well how horrified you were, stumbling upon an immensely beautiful statue that turned out to be a stone god, he heard you saying that for a few times. That day you ran away with such an expression Kars didn't expect you to ever come back, although you showed up a couple of days after, trying to talk to him in that odd new human language he had never heard before. As he kept silent, unable to even move his lips and make a sound, you realized the god you stared upon had been trapped in stone, and you could do nothing to free him. You went away, but came back with an odd machine that reminded him of Stroheim, and Kars thought of melting your bones when you dared to use to transport him. However, he had to admit how further did human technology evolved when even a small and timidly-looking machine like yours could lift and transport him to your home, a place inside another machine that had been definitely used for military purposes before being abandoned. It looked incredibly pathetic, as if you were a little rat that had to live in a pile of garbage out of pure need.

The world he once knew and wished to conquer had disappeared. All he saw while being driven away by your small machine had been a never-ending desert and ruins of other machines: he learnt lately those were enormous satellites, star ships, and other rusting remnants of an epoch that had been long gone. Watching gigantic sand stingrays crossing the desert as if it were a sea made him realize how far humans had gone - they had created monsters that were never meant to exist in the first place.

Of course, they paid for it. Judging from the stories you told him and what he observed himself, humanity had faced almost complete annihilation even without intervention of their outer space enemies, if there were any. The atomic war destroyed nearly everything humans had been creating since the beginning of their era. It affected even the natural course of life of every living being on Earth, forcing them to change and finally become a horrifying, mutilated, monstrous life form of something they had been once. Even the Moon had been gone, it's ugly half-destroyed form shining in the night sky and making it even more revolting. You had said something about unsuccessful colonization and the war over moon territories while Kars had to force himself to look down on the sand that was at least familiar to him.

Disgusting. He still had hard time believing how far humans had gone, destroying everything that existed long before they started ruling the planet. What would Jojo say now if he saw what a nightmare the world had become? Wasn't it better to let Kars wipe out the humanity before this had happened?

He had been fighting the urge to break your spine or melt your insides at least for a couple of months, blaming you for the crimes of your ancestors despite you obviously being too young to commit any of the atrocities that had happened. How come a human being had the audacity to survive in this post-Apocalyptic world while other life forms had mutated into monsters? When you were wiping any impurities off his cold stony skin, he was dreaming of the time when his body would come out of this odd hibernation period he couldn't control and then murder you in some rather painful way, prolonging your death till you felt all kinds of despair a human like you could. As he struggled to move even his fingers, he had finally decided not to harm an only being capable of taking care of him.

Each day you brought him to sunlight so he could observe what was outside of your pathetic shelter while you worked to grow anything in this lifeless place, several times a week departing to some place to fill the ugly rusted water tank, then watering your plants in a some kind of a nicely equipped greenhouse - funny, now you used it to protect the plants from the intense heat rather than trap it inside. Fruits and vegetables were what your diet was based on, including some synthetic supplements Kars refused to consume, disgusted by something made purely by humankind. Sometimes you would bring him fried meat, and while the thought of eating a mutilated animal had been revolting to him, Kars knew you could offer him nothing else. Even the meat you brought you offered only to him, rarely taking a piece for yourself: now it must have been a great privilege to consume meat. Besides, it truly sustained him better than fruits or vegetables, and he was dependent on what you were feeding him, slowly getting his strength back. After a year and a half he was now able to move his lips and fingertips, making you nearly ecstatic: it seemed you were doing everything right.

What did you think he was? A deity? A monster? A machine? Probably an immortal being who had existed long before the annihilation, that's what you said: you were talking to him from time to time either to pay your respects, tell him more about your world you thought he knew nothing about or voice what you were going to do right the next moment. One day as you brought several rectangular plates made with what looked like a blue metal to him, you read Kars about ancient Greek gods, wondering if he had been one of them - you saw him melting food with his skin, and for you it was the inherent symbol of his divinity. Kars had to give you some credit: you weren't as stupid he first thought you were. You weren't worshipping him as much as he deserved, but you probably did the best you could do, just a little desert rat having nothing but her plants and a decaying metal house.

"I won't come back till the sunset." You said once you finished washing your face and brushing your hair, tucking them under a faded scarf out of some light fabric and then reaching out to grab your mask. "I'll try being quick, Sire, but it's important I visit that place. If I'm lucky, I might bring something very useful to you."

Useful to him, huh? He would appreciate if you stopped humoring yourself: there was nothing useful you could bring him aside from a dozen people to devour. While he knew there were some people left on Earth still, he also knew you wouldn't master the strength to capture, less sacrifice them to him. Besides, Kars was still deciding whether it was worth devouring those creatures. While it certainly would make him return his powers faster, he could wait a couple of centuries - Kars doubted remaining humans could do something worse to Earth than what had already been done.

You didn't return after the sunset that day. It was the first time you hadn't keep your promise to him, and it made ill-tempered Kars bitter: oh, he would remember it and make sure you remembered it, too. He spent the night thinking what he was going to do to you, albeit not getting too violent in his thoughts. Something probably happened on your way, and you had to stop and spend the night in the desert before coming back.

The next day you didn't return either. He waited for you till the sunset but heard nothing but the sound of sand stingrays travelling to the other part of the desert. The complete silence troubled Kars more than he was able to admit: you had been somewhere around most of the time, taking to him or making some other irritating noise. While he found you just one more annoying creature inferior to him, your absence had a strange effect on Kars - it felt like something was crawling beneath his stony skin, making it harder to keep calm despite the fact the man had always been patient, unaffected by something so unworthy of his attention. However, your absence was a clear sign that something had happened, and it somehow bothered him.

Were you attacked by the monstrous creatures roaming the earth? Humans? Some other force he knew nothing about? Surely, it had something to do with the thing you attempted to bring, but you were vague about its nature, and Kars doubted it was really something decent. How come you had the audacity to risk your life when you were his one and only follower, sustaining and taking care of him while he was still in hibernation? Were you so unbearably stupid you decided you could leave him alone for long? Who had given you the right to bother Kars with your absence? It was inexcusable. The only reason why he didn't punish you was his petrified body, but he wouldn't stay in such state forever.

The lack of your presence was becoming more and more disturbing, and Kars questioned himself why did it matter. He had never needed someone's company - even though he had respect for both Esidisi and Wamuu, their closeness to him wasn't something essential. Not that your presence was either... and yet he found himself constantly thinking about the reasons why you were late. Although it irritated him, Kars decided that time he spent into space had its effects on his mind.

When you returned at last, the sun had already disappeared over the horizon. You were bleeding - he saw crimson stains on your face and your left arm, your faded scarf absent when you stormed inside your house, a small metal container in your hand as you flew to your stone god. Something had gone terribly wrong.

"I'm sorry, Apollo." You were running out of breath, but Kars heard you calling him by a Greek god's name. Was it the god of light? Your choice was rather peculiar. You were probably calling him like this in your mind since you brought those books home, but was afraid to voice your thoughts to him. "I wasn't as prepared I thought I was. The guards are still there even after all these years."

Leaving the container on the floor close to him, you took your bag and started your things there, searching for food and flasks. Somebody had been following you to your hideout.

"This is all I could find." You whispered, opening the container and taking out a small glass vial with a bright red liquid inside. "I can't tell how it will affect you, but I believe it would be of use to you, Apollo. Please, consume it."

You had carefully lifted the vial as if it were going to explode and then put it on his chest, awaiting for Kars to melt it onto his body. He had been suspicious about this, for some reason unable to detect what the liquid was as the vial seemed to block it, he consumed it, nonetheless - there was a chance it could speed up the end of his hibernation.

And it did. He felt the familiar heat, albeit Kars had never thought the stone could be turned into liquid, and yet it was it, something he had been chasing for so long once before becoming who Kars was now. How come it had been somewhere here all along? Was it fate to land here where it had all ended for him once? Kars had no answers. Not that it mattered now as his petrified body was rapidly recovering, his limbs finally able to move, his dark locks softening, the paralysis shattering while he stood up, showing you his perfect form in all its glory as you stared at him, either afraid or unable to move. He was the God you were waiting for, his large wings turning into flesh hands, a halo of light surrounding his perfectly proportioned, sculptured body and making you lose your eyesight for a couple of seconds. It happened so suddenly you were trembling on your knees in front of him, forgetting about those who had trailed you and the danger they could bring to your God and you, both fear and admiration engraved into your stare. Kars was much more than you had pictured him to be, undoubtedly.

As much as he enjoyed that look on your face, devouring your fragile figure with his eyes, he could feel his enemies breathing down his neck. Of course, all of them were unworthy of seeing his true power, but even someone as miserable as them would do for a quick warm up after centuries of hibernation: once several disgustingly looking men with scars and mutilated limbs showed up in your hideout, all of them Ripple users just like Jojo had been, Kars let out a laugh, watching them demanding both him and you to surrender. Worthless little creatures, they thought they could give orders to him, the most perfect form of life on Earth. He had slashed all of them the next moment, pools of their blood dirtying the floor and spreading further to metal walls: apparently, despite them still being able to use Ripple, their power had deteriorated greatly to the point they only posed a threat to a fellow human being, someone as frail and delicate as you.

Turning to face you still on your knees, he saw your wide eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks while you covered your mouth with your hands: was your God more terrifying than you had imagined him to be? Did you think he would forgive those who made a mistake of challenging him, the most powerful being the Earth had ever hold? Silly little girl, there were so many things you had to learn about him, the God you were destined to worship and love with your whole being.

"Stand up, woman." He said, watching you tremble and trying to wipe away your tears, not knowing what you had to say to the God you finally saw in all his glory. "I demand you to leave with me before the sun rises. Gather whatever belongings you need for a long journey, we will depart soon."

You bowed to him deeply, afraid to open your mouth and say something your God would consider inappropriate, and hurried to take your bag, quickly putting everything you considered important in it while Kars stepped closer to the pathetic beings, consuming what was left of them and feeling the power coursing through his body, filling him with warmth he had craved for so long. That little vial you brought was truly worthy of him, and Kars felt satisfied it was you who found him in the sands in the middle of nowhere. He would take you with him while he would try to resurrect the Earth as he remembered it, bringing the balance to it and watching it flourish once again.

"Apollo, I have taken everything." You whispered to him timidly, forgetting you were using that fictional name you gave him.

Kars chuckled, marching through your hideout flooded with blood of his enemies. If you needed to compare him to some stupid Greek god so desperately, you should have chosen Hades.

[broadstflyers]

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic! It's really just an idea I've had for months, and then wrote, and then couldn't figure out which hockey boy it fit, until some mutuals were kind enough to help. I settled on our boy Barzy! It's inspired by Taylor Swift's "Gold Rush", and I really wanted to do my best in reflecting the beautiful imagery this story creates for me. I hope I did it justice. It's a little terrifying putting my writing out there, but I hope people enjoy it!

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Two curse words, it's really just internal conflict within the reader

Summary: You're celebrating your dad's 50th birthday with some friends and family at a dinner party. You happen to land your eyes on a beautiful stranger, who you can't seem to get out of your head. You spend the rest of the night wondering, should you go up to him?

Or do you let him walk out the door?

___________

They say when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, time stands completely still. As you gaze into their eyes, it feels as though you’ve known them for multiple lifetimes. It feels like home. Is that even remotely true?

You start to take a sip of your drink and turn your head slightly to take in your surroundings. Your eyes dance around the room, until they stumble upon another pair of wondering eyes. Your eyes lock, and you’re instantly sucked into the mysterious yet intriguing twinkling grey-blue color that compliments his navy blue suit. Suddenly, your breath hitches in your throat, every part of your body stiffens, except for your lips that part slightly and eyes that widen. The drink is long forgotten, you’re even struggling to keep it from practically falling out of your hands and onto the wooden floor. The party is now just a blur, the noise? What noise? The world is muffled, as if someone stuck your head into a hundred pillows. Images stream through your mind like an endless movie reel wrapped in shimmery gold. Endless laughter on a first date over coffee. Him rubbing the back of your hand as you take a stroll through the park. Holiday mornings, exchanging gifts. Would he participate in the tradition of opening small gifts first, or would he want the biggest gift right off the bat? Ice skating and him catching you as you stumble on a pesky track in the ice. Him tossing you into the pool while you’re trying to put up a fight in a losing battle. A sweet and quiet proposal where he promises his forever love. A kiss at the altar in front of all your friends and family. Chasing after rambunctious little kids trying to get them to nap. All these gold dripping images of a pure love plow through your brain. Your heart is the unmovable object. They are the unstoppable force.

You and him only shared a look for what was probably half a second, but the thick air that seemed to only be affecting you made time feel like it stood completely still.

You burst back into reality with the help of a slight head shake. “Woah,” you quietly whisper. You blink a few times and finally get around to taking a sip of your drink to quench your parched throat. Did you just see a whole future...with a stranger?

“Hey, are you okay?” Stella asks. Her hand gently touches your arm as she cocks her head to the side. Her brows are furrowed in what can only be described as pure confusion. Did you really space out that badly as she was talking? What were you guys even talking about?

“Oh,” you say as you gently shake your head, “yeah.” You chuckle, “yeah, I’m just fine.” You wait a beat then say, “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom really quickly, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she nods. “Do you need me to come with?”

“I’m totally fine, I promise,” you reassure with every bone in your body while giving her your drink. You really just needed to be alone to calm your racing mind that has now turned a complete stranger into a romantic interest with the power of a golden montage.

You make your way over to the exit of the dining hall and push the creaky open with your shoulder, and the amount of force you had to use honestly hurt. Your heels click down the tiled hallway of the golf club to find the bathroom door. The rectangular bathroom mirror framed in an intricate gold design holds your reflection. You slightly tilt your head as you take a look at your face. It’s like someone took the color of a clown nose and colored in your face with it. Jeez. You shake your head and sigh. This isn’t good, and deep down, you know that. You hate when you’re like this, all flustered over someone who just happened to lock eyes with you. His eyes. They were gleaming and just all around beautiful. What were you thinking again?

Oh, right.

Well, it’s pretty obvious he has this power over you, and you don’t like that. Now is your face going to become red everytime you see him? You check your phone. There’s still two hours left, plenty of time to possibly see him again. You can’t tell if that’s necessarily a good or bad thing.

You pace around the bathroom trying to reason with your begging heart. He was pretty good looking, which means that so many people naturally want him. Who was he even talking to, anyways? You gasp and stop in your tracks, blood running cold. “He was talking to a girl,” you mumble. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t sound completely and utterly crushed. In the heat of the moment, you completely failed to realize the blonde standing next to him. You lean over the counter, the cold marble feeling on your arms making your arms break out in goosebumps. You take one last stern look in the mirror at your face. “See, this is why we can’t allow ourselves to fall that hard,” you whisper angrily, “everyone wants him, and I just...I don’t like a gold rush like that.” You shake your head again and take one last deep breath to shake out any other thoughts. You can see yourself standing barefooted at the bottom of a hole looking astounded at how tall the walls have grown, and how distant the light looks. It feels like you soared lightheartedly into the sky, just to fall and crush every bone in your body.

You roll your eyes to yourself while slightly cursing yourself out. Pushing the bathroom door open, you step out into the hallway and make a beeline back for the dining hall. Your purse starts spastically vibrating, so you hastily fish your phone out to put an end to the obnoxious noise. Scanning the text, you read that your mom is asking where you went, as the cake for your dad’s birthday is going to be cut soon. You sigh as you text, “I’m hurrying back now.”

That’s all you see before you feel a slight brush tickle your bare shoulder. Your eyes don’t dare move from your phone screen. You reason that it’s not someone you know, as they would have said something to you. Your hands shake as you put your phone back in your purse.

“Oh, sorry,” the voice trails off as he continues to walk down the hallway after he brushed up against you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, without turning around, which is admittedly ridiculous.

As soon as you can judge his footsteps are far away enough, you make a quick glance behind to see if it really was him. And judging by the navy blue suit, it was.

Suddenly, the golden montage flows through your mind once more, showing an image of yourself wearing an old shirt of his, maybe one from when he was in high school for whatever sport he played, if he played one. Your feet feel the coolness of the wooden floor of the supposed home. The home both of you share? It’s so tangible, so real that you almost reach out to touch it. It’s right there...

Your head jerks yourself out of the vision once more, or rather the fact that you’re now faced with a white wall in front of you. You sigh a long frustrated sigh. I can’t believe I really walked by the entrance, how embarrassing, you think as you turn on your heels to backtrack. Why does this stranger have you so wrapped around his finger? No one else has been able to even come close to doing that. You feel your face with your hand, and it’s burning. I’ll go in there looking like a tomato, it’s fine.

You do your best to quite literally shake off those thoughts as you push open the dining room hall door. “There you are!” your mom says. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, we’re going to sing happy birthday to Dad.”

“Can’t wait,” you beam. After all, your dad only turns 50 once, and this night is about him, afterall. You follow your mom to a table with a white tablecloth resting on it.

Stella pops out from behind your dad to approach you and whispers, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You resist the urge to gently shove her in front of everyone. “Yes,” you pleadingly insist, “now stop asking me in front of Mom and Dad, they’ll think something is wrong.”

She side eyes you with an attitude. “Fine.”

“They’re my girls,” your dad says with a smile.

You and Stella laugh while leaning into him for a quick hug. “Hey dad,” you both say in unison.

The room completely dies down, people could hear a pin drop. “Ready?” your mom asks the guests. The room takes a collective deep breath.

And so the melody of Happy Birthday rings joyously through the hall, you can see the mystery stranger out of the corner of your eye. Heat radiates off your skin, it’s almost like you can feel his eyes boring into you. It takes all the willpower you can muster, but you resist the temptation to look over at him all throughout the song.

When the song is over, the room breaks out into obnoxiously loud clapping. You, Stella, and your parents share loving looks and warm smiles.

Eventually, everyone proceeds to return to normal chatter at the one rectangular table of two that they’re sitting at, and so do you, Stella and your parents.

You pull out your seat next to your sister near the middle of the middle of the table and sit, fixing your dress.

“Ahem,” Stella says in an ill attempt to cover her suspiciousness with a clearing throat noise. Queue whatever accusatory question she’s got.

“Let me just set something straight,” she starts.

“Go for it,” you say as you reach for some water.

“It’s definitely that guy a few seats down, isn’t it?” She smirks. She’s got you trapped in her little web, and she knows it.

You may or may not have fought back choking on your water or pulling a ridiculous spit take on the nice white table cloth.

You lean in and harshly whisper, “Well you didn’t have to say it that loudly.” You glance over at the mystery stranger and see his hand wrapped around his glass as he goes to drink it. He has a thick silver ring on his pointer finger?

“Hello?” Stella shifts her head to selfishly cut off your view of him.

“Okay,” you sigh in defeat, “yes it’s him. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, very satisfied because she finally pried it out of you and got you to admit it. Someone else has you wrapped around their finger. She didn’t even have to know all the details of the montages to know. She could tell by the way your eyes glossed over and how your lips would slightly part like you were in a hazy daydream.

And you were.

“Who is he anyway? And why don’t we know him?” You ask.

“I don’t know, honestly. A little strange, isn’t it? Why don’t you ask mom who he is?” She suggests, but her cheshire smile suggests that she will somehow find out, with or without your mom’s help.

“But mom’s going to absolutely harass me until I say something to him. Just you on my tail is enough,” you say with an eyebrow raised as to say ‘don’t test me.’ And Stella knows you’re right.

“Alright, fine,” she concedes, “But why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“I did,” you nonchalantly float.

Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an “O” from disbelief. Did you really not talk to people that much?

“Really?” she practically squeals.

“Yeah, he brushed by me and said, ‘Sorry’ so I said, ‘It’s okay.’” Okay, now you get why your friends and family get mad at you for refusing to talk to people. But cracking this joke was one you could not pass up.

Her face scrunches up and she exhibits the biggest eye roll you have ever seen. She opens her mouth to start saying something, probably to scold at you, but you open your mouth to cut her off first.

“Alright no, I haven’t. And do you know why?” As you’re about to get your thought out, you’re interrupted by a fit of laughter down the stretch of the table. Your eyes scan but freeze on the stranger, whose nose is adorably scrunched up as he laughs with multiple, yes multiple, people about goodness knows what. And there’s that other blonde that you still don’t know, laughing with him. You tear your stare away and focus back on your sister.

“Look, that right there. That’s why,” you say, anger burning through your chest.

Stella raises an eyebrow in her own judgemental manner. “He talks to people? You know people do that right?”

Now it’s your turn to return the favor of a judgemental eye roll. “No, Stella, I mean just look at him and the people he’s surrounded by. It’s so obvious that everyone wants him. Just look at that girl with him. I’m not the only one who wants to love him.”

Silence ensues between you two. She picks up her phone and shoots a quick text. After a moment she says, “Well, I think if you just talked to him, you’d be pleasantly surprised with what could happen. I have to help mom with distributing gift bags. You stay here,” she instructs.

You can only assume you’re not being called to help because Stella graciously told your mom that you’re potentially working up the courage to talk to someone that’s not one of your three friends or your family. How generous of her.

A few friends of your dad stop by your seat to say goodbye before they head out. The noise slightly dies down enough to scarcely hear some other conversations. You hear nothing out of the ordinary, just a girl talking about getting into her dream school to some guy. Your ears slightly move as you pick up on a voice that sounds like the one in the hallway earlier.

“Yeah dude, but did you see the fake out on the goalie on the second goal? That had to have been the best part.”

Out of instinct you open your mouth to interject, but quickly shut it and put it under lock and key. You blink in disbelief. Hockey? Did this man just speak on hockey?

You circle the rim of the coffee cup and stare at the brown liquid. In a different universe…

In a different universe you would have actually kept your mouth open, and maybe even squeezed some words out, too.

“Actually, that seamless stretch pass down the neutral zone from the defenseman after a pretty difficult forecheck set up the play pretty well. I’d give him a lot of credit, too.”

He’d probably look a little shocked, as do most guys when you interject your two-sense about hockey. But maybe he’d break out into a small smile and offer a rebuttal. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe one day…

Maybe one day you’ll be sitting next to him on the couch, watching a game while cuddling and brushing the hair out of his face. Oh who are you kidding, you’ll be up and screaming at the TV. It’s your staple.

A noise of someone dropping something behind you slightly startles you and pulls you out of your once again golden daydream. You finally stop mindlessly circling the rim of your coffee cup to take a sip, but only to find it’s now ice cold.

This is why you hate looking through a pair of rose colored glasses. It distracts you from enjoying things. You glance over at your dad who’s still talking to one of his good friends that lingered after festivities. You’re supposed to be celebrating him right now, but instead you’re literally stuck in this cursedly pure golden daydream that is almost too good to break.

You can see him. He’s still there, at the end of the table, chatting away with some dude. The blonde left at some point, though.

“Well, I gotta head out, man, good to see you. My sister needs help with packing her stuff for college tomorrow, so we’ve got a busy day coming up.”

Could that girl have been his sister?

“Congratulations to her on getting into her dream school by the way,” the guy says. “I talked to her when she was here earlier, and she seemed super excited.”

A wave of cool relief washes over your body, remembering the conversation about college you picked up on earlier. It was his sister.

“Yeah she is, she worked really hard, and it also involved a whole lot of crying,” he chuckles.

Ain’t that right, you think to yourself.

The table shakes as he pushes out of his chair. Your eyes remain glued to your coffee cup no matter how much you want them to move. You just can’t gather the courage to say something, and you’re cursing yourself for it. You don’t want to sit here and dream about him anymore. You want to actually let these things happen, for once. You want to just unleash all these swirling and sickeningly sweet emotions from your body and drown him in it. You want so badly to leap up and say something, anything. Step on those voices taunting you and mocking you saying that it could never happen, it could never be so it will never be. He’s so inviting that you can’t resist any longer. You go to reach out to him, but the door shuts before you know it.

And just as fleeting as he came,

He’s gone.

Fuck. It feels as though a brick is sitting on your chest, suffocating you. You really let your worries control you, and this time it feels as though you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You just can’t believe you let it happen when your mind was begging you to talk to him. You always do-

“Shit,” you mumble. In your frustration, you knocked over the remnants of the coffee onto the not-so-white-anymore table cloth. Tears prickle up in your eyes, your throat closes, and your nose begins to sting. You quickly swallow these emotions down your throat and begin to use a napkin to soak up the excess coffee. Drinks have really not been your friend tonight.

For the first time, you notice as you clean that it’s just you left in the room, besides a few people cleaning up on the other end. You’re not sure where your family has gone, but you haven’t received any texts prompting you to leave yet. It’s so silent that you can hear some muffled chatter down the hall.

Suddenly, you hear the same creak of the door open with an “oof” that doesn’t quite sound like your dad. Your blood runs cold and you freeze mid press into the tablecloth. You glance up without turning around to see a lone jacket hanging on a chair suspiciously close to the chair he previously sat in. Your eyes widen and dart around the room, but you dare not move, waiting to see what he does. Even after cursing yourself out for ten minutes while cleaning up spilled coffee, you still haven’t learned to make the first move. His presence feels like a forcefield, you can feel it heavily pressing into your back.

But he isn’t moving to grab the jacket, no.

A pointer finger with a silver ring taps your shoulder.

“Hey,” the clarity of his voice rings in your ears like a bell. Your heart is racing so fast that it feels like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage and run its own 10k. You slowly crank your head around to meet his eyes for the first time-- face to face.

And you must say, his face is really pretty when you actually talk to him face to face. Maybe you should do this more often. You take in his golden features, and struggle to hide a small smirk creeping up on your face. His messy hair falls perfectly into place on his head, and his kind face makes you feel as though a mess of metallic gold swirls are playfully swirling and dashing around you both. You’ve found him in this lifetime.

“I’m Mat, can I help you clean up before I grab my jacket?”

[bump1nthen1ght]

Sick Day (Demon x Reader)

Pairing: Gender Neutral Reader/ Non-Binary Demon

Genre: Urban fantasy, Domesticity, Established relationship

Warnings: Mentions of sickness (fevers, body chills, headaches), but nothing graphic

Word Count: 2008 words

Summary: Your demon partner isn’t sure how to play doctor

A/N: Based of this prompt by @monsterkinkmeme

“It’s the first time you’ve dated a demon and it’s also the first time you’ve gotten sick since you’ve been together. A fever paired with a throbbing headache has you hiding in bed for most of the day, trying to sleep whatever bug you caught, off. Your demon lover, on the other hand, is beside themselves and has turned to Google and WebMD on how best to take care of you. They now think you are dying because of your symptoms and are devising a way to save you.”

The minute I saw this prompt I was immediately awash with PINING for a large demon partner to cuddle with and I knew I had to write it.

A week after finals, 7 months into your relationship with Motholg, your immune system gives up.

You had been leaving work, thinking the heat in your cheeks and the ache in your bones was a product of a 6 hour shift, walking to Motholg’s apartment for date night. The past two week had you cooped up, anxious and studying, meaning you barely were able to make time for your partner.

You probably should have expected it, it’s happened every finals week since high school; A couple days into break you get a high fever and are stuck in your bed for a solid 48 hours. But you thought that, perhaps, this year was the exception. After nearly passing out when handing Motholg their fresh-made lasagna, you knew you weren’t so lucky.

“Darling?”

You groan from your blanket burrito, eyes and sweaty forehead barely peeking into the dim light of Motholg’s bedroom. The thought of forming a coherent thought makes your brain pound, so you don’t even try.

“I’ve made you some...uh…”

The door creaks open, Motholg automatically ducking their head so their long horns don’t hit the frame. Their red, slitted eyes narrow at something steaming in a teacup. “Yas-mine? Jasmeen? Uh-some herbal remedy I ordered from your virtual shopkeep. It was touted by several women named “Brenda” to  be the best thing for human illnesses.” Motholg’s hooves tap against the floor, just below the line of “too loud” for your migraine. You give another non-committal hum as they sit down on the bed. Despite being custom-made for their 7-foot stature, the bedframe still creaks under their weight. The top of your blanket sarcophagus is pulled back, revealing your disgruntled face.

Motholg helps you prop yourself up and hands you the teacup. You take a sip, quickly realizing it’s still quite hot, but power through anyway. The scalding water melts from your mouth down to your toes, abating your shivers, if only temporarily.

As you drink, Motholg’s fingers card through your messy hair, massaging your skull before resting their palm on your cheek. Their hand covers almost the entire side of your head, spotting a glimpse of a frown between their fingers.

“You’re even hotter than before and still quite sweaty. Would you like me to take the blankets?”

You shake your head, setting down your cup of tea.

“No, it’s probably just my fever breaking. It’s actually a good sign, despite how shitty I feel.” The warmth of your cocoon is beckoning you, your exposed chest and arms already shivering. “The blankets are good for my chills, but a big glass of ice water would be nice.”

Motholg raises an eyebrow, clearly perturbed by your backwards human symptoms. But they pat your head once more before sitting up.

“Of course, dear.” Motholg leans down to kiss your forehead, but is intercepted by the palm of your hand.

“Uh-uh, I don’t need you getting sick too.” Motholg scrunches up their face, then blows a raspberry into your skin. You retaliate by pushing away their face feebly.

“As if your human illness could fell me darling.” The sigh dramatically, pushing your hand away. “Though you are very sweet to think it could.”

You stick out your tongue and shove them. Motholg relents, blowing a kiss as they back out of the bedroom.

Your brain is beginning to drift into sleep when a glass clinks on the nightstand. Not bothering to open your eyes, far too tired, you mutter a “Thank you.” Motholg whispers a “You’re welcome,” as they lay on the bed once more. Their warm fur tickles your neck as they cuddle up behind you, arm thrown around your side and nuzzling their face into your hair. A hot breath and a slight nip of their extended canines only wills you to dreamland faster.

Motholg won’t go to sleep, only needing a full 8 hours every 4 days, but are rather content to lay beside you. They lovingly stroke your arm and sidle farther down under the comforter, whispering occasional sweet nothings and rocking you into unconsciousness.

--------

The dull red of the bedside clock pries open your eyes, a stark contrast compared to the pitchblack of the bedroom. Your brain is still in a fog, but given then the 3 AM flashing nearby, you’ve been asleep for about 9 hours.

And I’m about to sleep 9 more.

Motholg had left the bed at some point, but their warmth still lingers on the blankets. You close your eyes and snuggle in.

Slam!

But then the door slams open.

On a normal night, the noise might’ve jerked you upright , but your eyes simply roll over to the doorway. Your brain already misses unconsciousness.

Motholg stands, their new smartphone in hand as they breathe heavily.

“Darling, what did you say your body temperature was?”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, slowly giving up on those peaceful 9 hours.

“99.7 last time I checked.” You tap your forehead with the back of your hand. “Probably less now. The sleep has been helping a lot. Good night.”

In an instant, Motholg is over to the bed, placing their hand on your forehead. You let out a disappointed sigh and try to go back to sleep anyways. The click of their hooves on hardwood, Motholg’s jittering shakes of your shoulder, and the strong smell of iron quickly eliminates that as a possibility.

You turn towards your partner, now noticing the sheen of liquid covering their hands. Red streaks follow their fingertips on their smartphone.

“Babe, why are your hands soaked in blood?”

“Goat’s blood, technically.”

Before you can even respond to that baffling answer, Motholg grabs your shoulder. The blood sticks to the short sleeves of your pajamas.

Damn, now I’ll have to wash this tomorrow.

“Here, it says the ritual-”

“The what?”

“-needs to be completed at 3:30 AM on a new moon.” Motholg pauses, checks their phone, then continues, “Yes, a new moon.”

Motholg begins to walk away, your arm still in their grip, but your resistance stalls them.

“Okay, Motholg, you’re scaring me. What’s going on? How the hell did you get goat’s blood at this hour?”

Motholg sighs and rolls their eyes, “Unimportant-”

You give Motholg a dissatisfied look, finally making them relent in heir tirade. They turn towards you.

“I fear for your life. I’ve consulted your online physician and your symptoms fall in line with many fatal illnesses.”

Now accepting that this is officially a conversation, you throw back your blankets and sit up.

“Do you mean WebMD?”

Motholg nods furiously and shows you their phone screen, tapping the glass with a long claw.

“See here? Full body chills are associated with pneumonia, so is a high fever. There’s also the possibility something is wrong with one of your organs. Not surprising, considering how squishy they are.” Motholg flicks their screen upward, a myriad of diagrams flips across it.

“Now, I know a couple of ceremonies my father used to perform to curse others with these illnesses, so I thought if I reversed the procedure-” Motholg pauses again, flipping to a new tab on their phone, “-So, I did some googling-”

Motholg pauses when your hand rests against their cheek. Their red eyes, which glow just slightly in the dark, look to you. You brush your thumb across their face, just barely grazing against the fur which starts at the base of their neck.

“Darling, I appreciate the concern really, I do. But these websites…” you pause, slowly pushing Motholg’s phone down and out of eyesight, “They really only show worst case scenarios. Honestly, they kind of just scare you into going to a doctor in person.”

Motholg’s eyes dart between your face and their phone, now pressed face down on their bed. They give off an aura of anxiety and stress, their hands fidgety and their hooves lightly tapping against the floor. “Here,” You pull up the covers, opening up the spot next to you. “Do you want to lie down with me for a while?”

“Oh, I don’t need to rest.”

“Just because your body doesn’t require it doesn't mean it won’t feel good. C’mon.” You pat the bed. “I think it will give you some peace of mind, keeping an eye on me.”

Motholg’s eyes shifted back to their phone, their brow furrowed. You pout your lips and slide your fingers up their chest. Their fur sticks and tussles under your touch.

“Babe, I would feel better if you relax, seriously.” You reach down to the bedside drawer, pulling out your sleep mask. “You can even bring your computer and get some work done.”

Hesitantly, they nod. You sigh in relief. Their hand unconsciously twirls your hair.

“I suppose….You would know about these things.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Motholg leaves to get their things, while you slip back under the covers. Before you put your sleep mask on, you shout to them.

“Make sure to wash that blood off!” You look down at your damp sleeve. “And could you get me a wet wipe as well?”

Motholg makes an affirmative noise, and you finally lay back and close your eyes.

Their body heat lingers above your as they sweetly wipe away the blood on your arm. You mutter a thank you. The bed dips as they down next to you, mattress bending as they adjust their laptop and fluff the pillows.

“Darling?”

“Hmmm?” You murmur, face still stuffed in your pillow.

“I just wanted to apologize for waking you. I feel very foolish for acting so paranoid.”

You flip your head to their side, keeping your mask on.

“No need to apologize, I get it.”

“Thank you for your understanding, but still, I feel so silly. To think a tiny sickness would force my emotions to overcome me.”

You slowly push up your mask, eyes peeking out from under the duvet. Motholg sheepishly picks at their keyboard, avoiding your eyes,

As disgruntled as it made you at first, Motholg’s droopy gaze stirred guilt in your gut. You wonder how many scenarios had run through their head while they googled, how helpless they must’ve felt. There might be a hole paced into the floor of the living room, given how flustered they were when they barged in.

You reach out to Motholg’s wrist, brushing your thumb over the back of their palm. Their red irises look over, and you think you see the tinies remnants of tear tracks at the corner of their eyes.

“Emotions aren’t a bad thing, they’re natural.” Grabbing the top of the blanket, you roll over to Motholg’s side. Their large body dwarfs yours and when you curl up against them, the tips of your feet barely meet the top of their calves. Their black fur is soft against your face, like a  mixture of a plush carpet and a goosefeather pillow.

Oh good, they used the Tea Tree soap.

“I’d probably do the same if you got sick.” You reach your hand up to their chest, cording through their thick fur. “We’re just gonna have to trust the other’s okay, huh?”

With your chin tucked into their ribs, Motholg smiles down at you. A claw runs up the back of your neck, stirring up goosebumps but relaxing your muscles.

“I believe so, darling.” Their fangs jut out from their lips as they continue to rub your neck. It’s quite goofy looking, for a demon, and gets a chuckle out of you.

You crane your neck and Motholg meets you halfway for a kiss, consequences be damned.

“Good night, I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetling.”

You fall asleep with Motholg’s fingers curled in your hair, the slight tap of their claws on the keys, a simmering contentment in your heart.

--------

A week later, when  you’re back to full health, you and Motholg are making dinner when-

“Ah-choo!”

You stop stirring the pasta and furrow your brows at Motholg. They’ve stilled, mid-movement while setting out the plates. Their face burns with embarrassment.

“A silly human sickness, huh?”

[whimsicallyreading]

The Answer is Love

“You rescued me when my mind was a prison. You set me free when no one else would listen. Now I finally feel complete, and I will follow you into the sea of eternity-” Broadside

-Crescent City AHOEAB dribbles because I love these two idiots <3 Prompts are currently open.

CW- Pure fluff only

Ear Ache-

Bryce woke up knowing the day would be terrible.

Pain stabbed through her skull like shards of glass through the soft flesh of her brain. She felt cold but knew her skin would be hot to the touch. Every little noise sent lashes of pain through her ears that ripped and tore until all she wanted to do was curl into a ball on her bed and cry.

She had an ear infection.

A common condition that put could put most fae out for days. Even a half-breed like her. Their ears were sensitive on an average day, like delicate instruments, they picked up the slightest sounds and caught the faintest melodies. They also required a lot of care. Tiny pains that would only pose a sight nuisance to most creatures could send a fae soldier to their knees.

Bryce had only suffered through this a couple of times in her life. Once when she was a toddler and her mother had just met Randall. When Ember couldn't console her crying child and was on the brink of an exhausted mother meltdown, Randall swooped in and saved the day. He'd laid her over his shoulder and massaged the insides of her ears. A trick he'd learned in Pangera to soothe fae children whose sensitive hearing became shot from the explosives.

It could put Bryce to sleep in minutes, and Randall still bragged to the present day. Not that she complained. Even as a teenager with school-induced migraines, she would lay her head in his lap, and just the comfort of it could ease the ache in her head...and her heart.

Bryce wished he was here now as she smothered her head under a pillow to block out the hum of the firstlights. Pain. Shattering, consuming pain.

"Bryce, are you awake?" Hunt knocked on her door.

Damn his knocking. Bang. Bang. Bang. Her eyes watered, and tears poured down her face. Bryce would holler for him to please shut up if the sound of her blood rushing through her head wasn't bothering her.

"Bryce?" The door creaked open. She'd put off oiling the hinges. Squeel, Squeak, Scratch.

She sobs quietly.

A feather-soft touch brushes against her cheek. "Tell me what's wrong, Sweetheart."

His warm voice that would typically send chills down her spine makes her body quake in a not so pleasurable way. Bryce doesn't dare reach up to touch the source of her pain for fear they may suddenly erupt. Thankfully, Hunt notices her flinch. His eyes crawl up her figure, scouring her for illness or injury.

"My ears," she mouthes to him.

Hunt's eyes shine with sympathy. He picks up Bryce's phone from her bedside table and shines the light on bright down into them. His eyes squint, and he examines them with as much care as a medwitch.

Frowning at whatever he discovers, Hunt makes his way out of the room with all the quietness of the Umbra Mortis. When he comes back, he has a long, heating compress in his hands. One that Bryce used to wrap around her thigh on bad days when she still had the venom from the kristallos clinging to the bone.

Gently guiding her into a sitting position, Hunt squeezes himself behind her so that her back is flush to his chest. He takes the heating compress, lays it across his front, and then carefully positions Bryce's head, so one ear lays against the warmth.

A large, scarred hand appears at her mouth and slips a tablet between her lips, followed by an icy drink of water. A softly hummed melody vibrates the side of her face, soft enough not to disturb her ears. The rhythm is low and soothing, making Bryce's eyes droop in content.

A warm finger massages the ear that faces away from him, helping release the pressure building up inside it. Relief wells up in Bryce so strongly that a breathy sigh escapes her lips.

Soon, she is blissfully asleep in a cocoon of soft velvet feathers.

When she wakes, it's late in the afternoon. The fading sunlight forms a warm pool on the floor where Syrinx is curled up happily. Bryce nestles her head against the hard pillow of Hunt's impressive pecs. Cracking her eyes, she sees a pair of shoes that are not his at the bedside.

"Ruhn?" Bryce's voice is barely a whisper to keep from agitating her own ears.

He looks a little too smug at their position and waves a small dropper and bottle in her face. "Hunt texted me that you would need this," Rhun said, matching her volume, keeping his voice soft. "Also, I fed Syrinx. You're welcome. He was nearly about to break in here and bite your ass."

Bryce laughed, then winced at the spike of pressure throbbing in her ears. The motion of which causes Hunt to stir beneath her.

Rhun looks at her in sympathy. "Come on. I'll help you put the drops in."

Careful not to wake Hunt, Rhun grabs her under the arms and moves her to the foot of the bed. Tilting her head, Bryce allows him to drip the correct number of droplets in each ear.

The relief is swift as the throbbing subsides to a dull ache. "That's some powerful stuff."

A shift of the bed, Hunt's eyes open, and he quickly takes in her state and the number of people in the room. Of course, he wouldn't be able to sleep through the invasion of their shared space, even if it was just her brother—insufferable males. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I meant to wake you before Ruhn got here, but I dozed off."

He sits up and gathers her in his arms once more. Bryce is more than content to comply, his warm body like a drug to her too-cold skin.

Hunt lets her nuzzle her face into his neck as he gives Ruhn a predatory look over the top of her head. "You can go now."

"I literally just got here," her brother complains, brows furrowed in annoyance.

Hunt leans back with Bryce in his arms, combing a hand through her wine-dark hair. "You could have just called up and given me the drops downstairs, but you showed yourself inside. "You've brought me the medicine, and now you've overstayed your welcome. Your sister is very sick. Not fit for company."

Bryce could swear the testosterone was flying in the air like sparks as they got into a silent pissing contest with one another.f

Grumbling, Ruhn finally concedes and bids her goodbye. Cursing out Hunt for his lack of appreciation as he shows himself out the door.

"There. All better. Now we can watch Lunathion Lover's Lockdown without judgment. It's a new episode." She looks up at Hunt to find him mischievously grinning down at her. "We can make popcorn."

"Popcorn and Trash TV?" Bryce murmurs. "You really know the way to my heart, Athalar."

Hunt moves her to the couch and buries her in a mound of blankets. After coffee, popcorn, and several hours of mind-numbing reality shows- albeit at a barely audible volume- Bryce felt leagues better.

Later on, after Hunt had gone to take a shower, she opens her messages to see Ruhn had texted to check on her. Juniper had dm-ed her and offered to bring food by for both of them. And she had missed calls from her mother that Bryce decided she would get back to later.

Bryce's heart swelled. It had been a long time since she felt so loved. Many things had changed, and just maybe, they were finally for the better.

Lemme know if you would like to be added to a tag list! 

Prompts for this fic are OPEN :) DM them or feel free to send them through the ask feature. I love hearing from everybody! 

[yubiina]

When i was here

i’m really excited to show you this next work! It’s my fav i’ve done so far. I hope you all enjoy this and let me know if you did.

Of course I'll put warnings for it but letting you know this is ANGSTY.

Genre: Angst

Warnings: kidnaping, torture, mental illness and trauma, manipulation, Jake just being evil Jake and Y/N just spirling into insanity🧍.

................................................

You don't know how long you've been here

Long enough to lose track of time. Unknowning of each passing day and night and with no sight of another human being in an alarmingly long time.

You don't know how long you've been here.

But it's long enough to have made friends with the walls. Its dark paint flaking off when your nails picked it, leaving scratch marks on its surface. And your strength chipping with it along the way.

They listened to all your secrets when you whispered to them during late sleepless nights while your mind ran wild, too fast for you to catch any sort of rest to the point where sometimes nothing felt real.

You don't know for how long you've been here.

But you figured it was a pretty long time when your bones grew weaker from the lack of sunlight. Your weak legs would tremble with every step you took in the small, suffocating room that whatever god you had wronged in this lifetime, dammed you in as redemption.

You don't know how long you have been here.

But you longed for the comfort of someone's touch. The warm hold of someone's hand on your cold skin had become unfamiliar. The cold water harshly hitting your weak body and wrapping around you like a blanket was the closest thing you'd get to embrace.

You remember when you dared to dream about what you would do when you once you got out of here. How you would hug all of your friends and family. How you'd lay in your warm bed after all this was over, ready to look past it and move on and never come back, how you'd finally vent your feelings of loss and distress.

But you had taught yourself there was no point in having emotions if they cannot be shared or heard by someone that cared.

You don't know for how long you've been here.

Your hands shook when you tried to hold yourself up but eventually falling to the ground,  you ignored the pain on your bruised knees and stayed on the ground, as still as a rock. Gazing at the tall ceiling you'd stare at every time you couldn't fall asleep. Your mind flashed with memories of the people you had spent your life with, their faces blurred every time you tried to remember what they looked like.

For how long will you be here?

The corners of your lips turned and stretched into a small smile, recalling the old oast memories of when you first entered this room, still somewhat fresh in your mind.

" Wait until I get out of here" you seethed, voice trembling in anger

" I'm not going anywhere anytime soon" He turned his back and made his way towards the door with a wry smile, closing in before you could catch up with him.

" I'm getting out do you hear me? I don't give a fuck what I have to do Jake" you screamed through the small window on the door.

With a bounce on his step, he walked away as you continued to scream at him to come back, your voice bouncing off the walls and echoing through the long narrow hallway.

" I'll fucking kill you or I'll die on my own I'm not letting you keep me here do you understand" you cried out. Tears streamed down your face as your vocal cords strained, your muscles twitching in anger.

Turning to the side he stared right into your eyes filled with rage and tears through the long hallway, he smiled at you pitifully. Turning off the lights the outline of his body was now just a blurry shadow.

" entertain me, sweetheart" With the slam, the metal door drowned all of your barks, making them sound like whimpers.

You had promised you would not lose strength, that you'd stay stubborn and you wouldn't lose faith in seeing the outside world again. It didn't matter if anyone was looking for you, you were determined and sure you'd get out.

"I can't give up that's what he wants" you'd chant to yourself like a prayer in the dark corners of your room.

" that's what he wants"

"that's what he wants"

" that's what he wants"

For how long have you been here?

"I'm getting weak" you whispered to yourself as the smile you had on your face grew bitter and pitiful. Pitiful for yourself, for what your life has come to now and what it could've been. That's when time slowed down when you realized you no longer had the fight you had before and when your own body gave up on you and you cried for the first time in this room. When you smiled, you realized you could no longer make it.  

You're as good as dead.

A loud buzz echoed through the hallway, with a loud click the door opened and the small intercome red light turned on.

" Y\N it's time" the static voice buzzed through the room.

Slowly opening your eyes you glanced at the opened door, no one in sight. Your head turned to the red light of the intercome, your face lacking any reactions.

Shouldn't you be jumping in joy? ecstatic to run out the room and, if fate was kind enough, possibly into your freedom.

But you knew that was the case.

At first, you weren't sure if this was another way for Jake trying to rile you up and think you have a way out, only to lock you in again and laugh in your face. Like he had done last time.

You left the room filled with marks of you. the chipped walls, the scratched sheets. All left for the next person that would stay there.

But you knew it wasn't that. You wouldn't be free, running in the cold rain or the hot sun with tears in your eyes, realizing you're finally free. Just like how you had dreamed.

That dream had died with you a long time ago.

Slowly standing up you dragged your body out the room and through the dark hallway. You turned your back on the room like Jake once did when he left you.

...

" baby u look tired c'mon" he teased you from his bed. He placed his computer to the side, eyes fixated on you while you continue to write on your desk. You dropped the pen from your slightly bruised fingers and looked over to him.

He opened his arms and gave the warmest smile he could give you, inviting you in.

You crashed into his body, head on his chest while he wrapped his arms and legs around you. Grabbing the nearest blanket he draped it over your tired frame, almost drifting asleep.

..

You look back at those moments of your vulnerability. How you fell asleep in his presence when he was the reason you were trapped in this purgatory.

When he'd make sure you ate the food on your plate and drank enough water, and he was the reason why your body had given up on you.

How he promised you he'd protect you from harm when you heard loud thunder when he was what you should have been afraid of.

And when you ran to hug him after you had not seen each other in a while when you should have been running as far from him as you could. While you still had time.

As you slowly walked past the hallway into a set of stairs, you look back at the red flags you never noticed, diving in further into your mind.

When you brushed past all the alarmingly possessive traits he held, and the times he said sorry when he lied to you, only you manipulate you later and say it was for 'your own good'

Looking back only made you hate yourself more. Maybe you deserved to be here, perhaps your naivety and blind trust were the sin you had to pay for.

Opening the metal door with all the strength you had left, the lights of the computers on the desk illuminated the room, you stopped to stare at them, eyeing them like a bug that had finally found a source of light.

The big chair shifted back and forth as his foot tapped against the cold tile.

You stood silent as he continued to keep his focus on the screens before him, you didn't dare interrupt him, whatever he was doing.

Pulling his hands up his back muscles stretched lying back in his chair with a sigh, sitting comfortably in silence.

" Y\N baby, it's time now" he turned his chair slightly to look at you with a smile. His eyes were mocking and cocky, looking at your pride. He must be proud at your state, after all it was all his doing.

You only walked forward when you noticed he patted his legs, a silent command to come near. Hesitantly u sat on his lap, staring at his screen while he focused on you.

" these are the ones I told you about," he said. The way he talked to you so light-heartedly about using you for his plans made you realize how low you are to him.

'"your new friends baby" his next victims.

"I told you I'd get you friends right? you know what to do?" you only nodded to try and get his attention away from you. The light from the giant screen hurts your eyes but you didn't break away from it, continuing to stare at the faces of the new people he planned on manipulating to get whatever he needed, whether that was something he would use or just satisfaction.

" it's not me can you all get off my fucking back" the voice shouted in frustration.

" ok Dan we get it, calm down"

" shut the fuck up Thomas"

"Dan, Thomas both of you stop-"

" Jessy best you don't get involved in this"

" yeah sure Richy, you'll know they'll bicker all damn day if someone doesn't step in"

The voices spoke through the screen one after another.

" it's your time to shine darling" he caressed your jaw, his other arm wrapping around your waist and caressed your thigh. The white nightgown you had worn for a long time didn't do much to cover up and his sudden touch almost made you flinch away like it scorched your skin and burned you to the bone.

-----------------------

"I can trust you with this, right Y\N?" Thomas's voice spoke through the phone

" of course you can Thomas" you smiled.

" your guys's trust is precious to me, so is your well-being. I'm here to help you the best I can" you laughed

-----------------------

he placed a strand of your hair behind your ear in the most gentle manner, like he never laid a hand on you before.

After all, he had done, and after all you had gone through, he had the audacity to say he was in deeper pain than you were.l because you denied his care and love.

But maybe that held some truth to it.You had long become numb to all vile actions you had been put through, you found comfort in the pain that was brought upon you.

To the point where you no longer knew anything else.

Of course, he would grant you the freedom you longed for. In the worst possible way.

Your new freedom was being forced to work by his side and do his dirty deeds for him. What he thought was freedom was keeping your close enough to him whenever he needed you. No matter what he put your through.

His freedom was a new version of hell.

After all even the devil needs a friend

"I'll get you in, and you'll be their friend. Until I say so and then I'll take it from there. Don't worry, I won't let it tire your pretty little head, ok?" how fucking caring of him.

Of course, even broken dreams can come true.  It's like after they get abandoned by their owners they bloom, in desperation to grab their attention back once more for their love and attention.

But your dreams died that day, and so did you.

"give them a show, yeah?"

For how long has he kept you here?

you smiled.

" long enough to lose"

[cruciology]

Familiar Need

Requested by anon: Could you do a Sandor x reader she's one of Baelish's girls and Sandy is a regular and he takes her with him after the Blackwater battle? Idk if that made sense?

You sunk the pitcher beneath the surface of the steaming water, filling it to the brim before pouring it over the Hound’s head. Setting the pitcher on the wooden table next to the tub, you grabbed the bar of soap. The Hound let you run your fingers through his hair as you straddled him, both of your naked bodies hidden under the water. His hands held your hips, absently feeling the curves of your body as you scrubbed dirt and sweat and, most likely, blood from his hair. 

You had many odd requests from customers in your time; bathing together was a perfectly normal one compared to others. But you had heard many things about the Hound. You had been afraid when he paid for your services that he would be one of the more difficult clients, someone who took pleasure in hurting you, seeing you bruised or beaten. So you had been surprised when he had asked you to bathe with him. It seemed so innocent. What followed after was nothing but, but every time was the same. Every time, he wanted the same thing. Every time, he asked for you by name. 

He took the soap from you, taking his turn to wash you with his large hands. His thumb traced your nipple, making you suck in a short breath. In your line of work, you didn’t meet a lot of people that could make you do that. That was something else that surprised you when the Hound had first come to you. You assumed he would be like any other client, tossing some coins at you and finishing as soon as they could get their cock into you. But the Hound liked to take his time. He liked to hear you moan his name, to feel you come undone around him. 

You toyed with the thick, dark hair that covered his chest as he ran his hands across your back. You leaned in, placing a kiss on his scarred cheek first, then his lips. 

“Almost didn’t think you were going to come see me tonight,” you said. You knew how you sounded. Needy. But you had come to look forward to the Hound’s visits. The first time he had chosen you, you had been frightened, but that was over a year ago. You knew him much better than that now. “You haven’t been here in days.”

“Been busy,” He said shortly. He tucked away a strand of your hair that had fallen loose from where you had tied it up. It was hard to believe that the hands that had taken the lives of so many men could be so gentle with you. The other women in the brothel were terrified of him. They didn’t understand how you could let him touch you, let alone how you could look forward to it. It wasn’t a secret that he was a killer and that he took pleasure in it, but that wasn’t the side he showed to you. You often found yourself aching for his touch. Like right then, when you sat on top of his thick cock, hard and waiting. You could easily adjust yourself and have him fill you, but you only had to wait a bit longer. 

“Been busy a lot since dear King Joffrey took the throne,” you said with no attempt to hide your disdain. 

“Keeping that little shit alive is a lot of work,” the Hound grumbled. He would never speak ill of his charge with anyone but you. He wasn’t stupid. 

“Is it true what they’re saying?” You asked. “About King Robert’s brother coming with an army?” 

“Do you really want to talk of battles and war?” The Hound asked, dropping the bar of soap into the empty pitcher on the table. 

“I don’t care much for war, no, but I do like to be informed,” You said. “It’s not a secret that Lord Stannis has no love for women in my profession.” 

“You do sound informed.” 

“If we manage to survive the attacks, I fear I don’t know what he’ll do with us afterwards, the godless whores.” It was a bit of a hot topic in the last few days. You had to assure the other girls that you were positive things would be alright despite having little optimism yourself. 

The Hound kissed your collar bone, then your throat, moving to your jaw, and finally kissing your lips. His hand caressed your cheek, his finger tips burying in your hair. He pulled your hair down, the ends of it grazing the water just slightly as it fell down around your shoulders. You traced your thumb along the burned side of his face as you kissed him back. He used to hate being touched there, thinking that it must disgust you like it did everyone else. Now, he enjoyed the feel of your soft hands against the ruined flesh. 

“Nothing will happen to you,” The Hound promised, his lips still on yours. 

“You can be so sure?” You asked. 

He stood up, holding you tightly against him with just one arm. Sometimes you thought he just liked to show off how strong he really was, but you didn’t really mind. You liked how easy it was for him to hold you. He stepped out of the brass tub, still dripping water. Taking you to the other side of the large room, he pressed you onto the fur blanket on the bed. In one quick thrust, he was fully inside of you. You never could quite get used to his size, it always made you gasp. Normally, he liked to take his time, exploring all of your body before entering you, but he seemed to know how badly you needed to feel him, all of him. 

“I’m sure,” He said, kissing you roughly. He took both your hands in his, drawing them up above your head and pinning them. His free hand slid down your body, following your curves to the point where your bodies met. He rubbed your clit with his thumb, making you arch into him, your eyes squeezing shut. 

“Sandor,” You gasped out. His grip on your hands tightened and his speed quickened. Each thrust of his hips slammed into you, making you feel closer to the breaking point. He knew exactly how to make you come undone. The stars of light burst behind your eyelids, your chest heaving as you came. The Hound released his grip on your hands, holding himself up on his elbows as he pushed into you almost violently. 

You pushed him back, rolling him over onto his back and catching him by surprise. He held your hips to guide your rhythm. It was his favorite way to fuck you. He was so much larger than you, he worried you’d be crushed under his weight. With you on top of him, he could focus on how good your pussy felt. You liked being able to watch his face as you fucked him. You liked seeing his eyes squeeze shut as he felt you slide up and down his hard cock. You liked the feel of him digging his fingers into your ass. You steadied yourself with your hands on his chest, rolling your hips against him. 

“Fuck,” The Hound growled as you rode him. He squeezed tighter to you and you knew that meant he was close. He would pull out of you just in time to finish on your thigh with a grunt, but very suddenly, you didn’t want that. You moved your hands over his where they still held you. 

“Finish in me,” You said. You heard him curse again before you felt him shudder, filling you with his hot seed. 

His chest heaved as you got off of him. You rested your head on his shoulder, finally feeling the cool night air on your still slightly damp skin. You lay in silence for a long time, just listening to his breathing. 

“You’re that afraid that you’re going to die?” He asked finally. 

“I wanted to feel all of you,” You said. You could still feel him inside of you, not just the dull but pleasant ache he always left, but also the stickiness creeping down your thighs. “Don’t leave tonight.” 

“I can’t-,” 

“Sandor,” You said, lifting yourself onto your elbow. He studied your face as you looked down on him. “Please, stay.” He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you back on top of him. You laid your head on his chest, letting him pull the blanket over both of you. 

Stupid. You were bloody stupid. You should be down in the basement with the rest of the girls, but instead, you were up in the brothel alone. Even Littlefinger was nowhere to be found. If he could be counted on for anything, it would be saving his own skin. 

You were only out of hiding out of sickening curiosity. You heard rumors of wildfire. You figured you would be safe enough, with the battle being mostly on the shores. If you had just stayed inside, watching from the safety of your room, you would have been fine. It was when you decided to step outside of the brothel. 

You weren’t even ten steps away from the door when you were pulled so hard you feared your arm would pop out of its socket. You immediately shoved back, but when the dagger pressed to your throat, all attempts to fight back were quieted. 

You couldn’t tell where the man had come from, what side he was on. It didn’t really matter. Both had bad men and any man threatening you with a blade was bad in your book. You were sure you knew exactly what he wanted from you. A man coming to a whorehouse wanted one thing. 

“Let’s step inside,” He said, smiling with a rotten mouth, reeking of ale. His weapon was still pressed to your skin. If you so much as breathed too heavily, you would bleed. 

“Please,” You said. “Just lower your dagger.” 

“How do I know you won’t run?” The man asked, keeping his dagger exactly where it was.

“Where is there to run in all of this?” You asked him. As if to make your point, a flash of green fire burst to the chorus of screams. 

Looking satisfied with that answer, the man pulled his dagger away from you, his hand still tightly on your arm. But with a flash of silver, his grip went slack and he was suddenly relieved of his head. It was your turn to scream. 

But your terror only lasted a moment when you realized who the sword belonged to. 

“Sandor!” You cried in relief, throwing you arms around the Hound’s neck. He hugged you back, lifting you off the ground, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. “Are you alright? Why are you here? You should be-,” 

“I know where I should be,” The Hound said, setting you back on your feet. “And it’s not in that fucking castle.” 

“Won’t you be in trouble for abandoning the king?” 

“I’ll be in more trouble for telling him to go fuck himself,” The Hound said. You let out a surprised laugh. “I’m leaving. Tonight. Right now.” 

“What?” You felt as if you had been slapped. “Where?”

“Don’t fucking know, but I’m going,” He said. He grabbed one of your hands with his, dwarfing it. You always felt so small next to him. Small, but safe. Always safe. “Come with me.”

You studied his face. He knew what he was asking. This wasn’t a fleeting feeling. You belonged to Littlefinger just as much as the Hound belonged to the King. You would be stealing yourself away, but it would be in good company. 

You squeezed his hand and nodded. 

[feliix]

Mine ✦ JHS (18+)

✦  Pairing: Werewolf!Hoseok x Reader ✦ Word count: 3.6k ✦  Rating: M  

✦  Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship!au, werewolf!au

✦  Summary: It’s your boyfriend Hoseok’s first time in heat, and as much as you’ve prepared yourself for this moment you’d never expect it to go like this.

✦  Warnings: explicit smut, heat sex, unprotected sex, fingering, dom!hoseok, oral: female receiving, dirty talk, rough sex, impregnation kink, breeding kink, hobi is possessive af, knotting, creampie, marking, blood play, praise kink, aftercare,

✦ Requested by this anon ‘Hoseok x reader werewolf alpha heat with human mate? First time experiencing his heat and his knot?’ this anon: ‘May I request for the drinks and Drabbles, Hobi + cocktail. (Lmfao this is gonna be a lot, you don’t need to do all, whatever you feel inspired by {love you}; dom Hobi, spanking, creampie, fingering, toys, pet names)’ and sweet beanie @jintobean​‘ahem. pls might i order some hot coco hoseok it can have some nsfw idc i just need my heart to burst pls and thank’

✦  A/N: another episode of i try to write a drabble but it turns into a oneshot :)))) tagging my bby @hobiance​ for the much needed encouragement and werewolf hobi love♡ also this is my first actual werewolf smut please be nice and beta read by the wonderful, amazing and life saving @ally-127​

✦ Written for the BHQ Drinks and Drabbles game hosted by @bangtan-dreamland​ 

read part two here 

You had no idea what you were anticipating as you got home from work today. Before you had left Hobi was acting stranger than normal. His temper was short, his motions were labored, and he wasn't himself. It didn’t take long for you to realize something was wrong, and before you had even gone on lunch you received a text from your boyfriend.

Hobi: I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I think I’m in heat

There was no time to think about the next course of action, it was clear what you had to do. The next thing you knew you were in your bosses office, telling her that you were beginning to feel ill and that you’d be taking the rest of the day off.

He could smell that you were home before you had even walked through your front door. Hobi’s senses were mad, higher than he had ever experienced before. 

To put it lightly, you were worried. You had never experienced a werewolf in heat before, only heard about it from the older boys and their girlfriends in passing. But now there was no time to ask questions. Hobi was in heat and you’d have to figure it out together.

Muffled moans traveled throughout the apartment as Hobi ached in pain in your bedroom. Concern immediately flooded your system, not knowing if you should rush over to check on him or take things slow. The groaning only gets louder as you approach the bedroom door, pressing your ear up to the door to try and make out the slur of words coming from his mouth.

“Y/N?” He nearly cries as he senses your presence, the smell of you awakening senses he didn’t even know he had. 

Slowly, you turn the handle of the door to reveal yourself to him.

He’s in pain, lying in a pool of his own sweat as a dewy sheen glistens over his body. The only thing covering him is a pair of cotton underwear. They were the only thing soft and breathable enough that he could stand to have on his body, unlike the other clothes torn into shreds that he ripped off earlier. Hopefully he can hold back from treating yours in the same way – you really like the blouse you have on today.

As you see him curled up on the bed you can’t help but become worried for his current state. His face is scrunched in agony, soft groans leaving his lips between each labored breath. Slowly, you make your way over to him, careful not to move too quickly and startle his instincts.

You can only imagine the pain he's gone through over the past few hours. Knowing he's broken every bone in his body to turn, over and over again. Finally that part was over for now, but the everlasting ache of his muscles is still no match for his oncoming heat.

“It hurts,” he moans as his arms cup his sides roughly, rocking back and forth in attempts to relieve some of the pain. You can feel the heat radiating off his body from a foot away.

Instinctively, your hand reaches out to stroke his arm, the hairs standing up as his body shivers in a cold sweat. And then you notice it. The way his nostrils flare and exhale thickly as his eyes begin to glow an amber and gold hue. Your touch comforted him yet riled him up all at once, his wolf wholly and completely awake now that your skin was on his.

His eyes lock on you intently, a deep message hidden behind in his stare – almost like he was going to swallow you whole. You know what he needed. By the bulge in his pants to the look in his eyes you can tell it's you he wants – the only thing he needs at this moment, and you are ready for it.

You already know what you were getting yourself into when you began dating a wolf. It was only a matter of time before your sex life did a 180, and no, you weren’t entirely sure what to expect but today was the day that you’d finally understand what this was all about.

Like a second wind had taken over him, Hobi sits up in the bed, his posture firm and his muscles straining as he holds himself from grabbing you by the waist and mounting you at that moment. He’s waiting for reassurance from you, holding onto every ounce of strength he has before moving an inch.

And so you reach out to him again, bending at the waist as you place your arms on his shoulders, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “I’m ready,” is all you have to say for him to know, and then he’s scooping you up with his supernatural strength to lay you on the bed.

Without missing a beat, Hobi’s fingers are looping through the sides of your underwear and ripping them down your legs. Surprisingly, you are a lot less nervous than you had expected to be. Maybe because you know how much pain he is in from holding himself back, and all you want is to finally satisfy his wolf that has been eating away at him for so long.

Your sweet scent fills his nostrils as he moves closer to your cunt. Closing his eyes, he basks in your scent – your scent overtaking him stronger than ever before. With deep inhale, he nestles his nose against your core, admiring the way you smelled before extending his tongue to lap at your slit. Immediately, your body jerks in reaction to his touch, the sensitivity of your clit being tested by his quick and frivolous motions.

“Tastes so good,” he mumbles against your inner thigh, making your body jerk at the vibration of his lips. His ministrations are much more impactful than before; this time he's hungry for it, dying to satisfy an itch that was nearly impossible to scratch.

Soon his hands are prying your legs as far apart as they could go, shoving his face into your center and devouring any juices that slipped past your entrance. Even though you had done this a hundred times, it felt different. He was driven by hunger, his actions quick and frivolous to ready you for his length. It was different but it was intentional; his sole purpose backing each and every flick of his tongue.

Moans pass his lips as they wrap around your clit, sucking harshly. Involuntarily your hips buck towards him, unable to control your own actions from the pleasure his mouth is bringing you. You can tell that he likes it by the way his arms wrap around your thighs, holding you down as his tongue flicks past your entrance and into your velvety walls.

A string of curses leave your lips as your body is rendered immobile, unable to move from the way he’s holding your legs to the bed. He’s ravenous – his nose pressing roughly into your clit as his tongue explores your sex. As much as he wants to be gentle he can’t; his wolf sending each of his senses into overdrive with each drip of arousal that lands on his tongue.

He’s moving so quickly that you can’t subdue your quickly approaching high. Any tug at his hair only makes him move faster, bringing you closer and closer to ecstasy at an alarming rate.

“Hobi,” you cry out, “I’m gonna cum if you keep at it like that.”

He doesn’t respond to you with words, only squeezes your thighs to acknowledge you. He’s too busy devouring your pussy to come up for air. Your words only make him move faster and more desperately, your high coming to a peak as he flattens his tongue across your slit. You take a quick glimpse of his amber eyes before he squeezes them shut, feverishly indulging in your release, licking it up as if his life depended on it.

By now a layer of perspiration has coated your body, the silky fabric of your blouse sticking to your skin. But Hobi isn’t done – things are just getting started.

Retreating from his spot between your legs, he sits back on his heels, wiping any left over arousal coating his chin with the back of his hand. He’s still hungry – the squint of his eyes and the determined look on his face told you so. Heat coursed through your veins as you waited for him to make his next move. He was trying to be patient, trying to let you recover for a moment before he got back to business, but you knew what he wanted.

In the interest of time you remove your own shirt, sitting up on the bed to throw the garment to the side and unclip your bra. His hungry eyes take in your nude figure as he moves forward to push you back onto the mattress. Your body relaxes as his lips connect to a sweet spot on your neck, sucking on it harshly, sure to leave a mark for tomorrow.

You arch your back in response as his lips begin to trail down your chest. A line of wet kisses is left behind as he makes his way down to one of your breasts, taking it in his mouth and circling the sensitive bud with his tongue. His teeth brush gently across your nipple, the sensation of his growing canines scraping against it breaking goosebumps against your skin.

Every day since he first turned has been leading up to this moment. Waiting out each passing moment for a sign of carnal instincts to over take him. Over the past few days you’d just brushed off his overly clingy demeanor, assuming it was just him growing into himself as a wolf. His suspicious and on-edge behavior went completely overlooked. You didn’t expect Hobi’s first heat to come on so soon after turning, but alas, here you were.

Hobi’s hands grab a hold of your hips, flipping you over so that you're laying with your chest pushed flush against the mattress, legs bent and the knees with your ass on full display. Your smell consumes him; all that he can think about is the taste of your arousal on his lips and how badly he needs to be inside you now.

His long digits trace your slit as arousal floods from your entrance, coating your slick on his fingertips. Anticipation pangs at your chest as you wait for his next move. You can only imagine the restraint he is holding onto at this moment. Everything in him wants to drive his hardened member into you, but he knows that your human body is not meant to handle what is coming for you.

Hobi’s eye’s screw shut as he brings a finger up to his mouth, basking in the taste of you. A wanton moan erupts from his lips at the taste – so perfectly sweet he would never be able to get enough.

Dire thoughts rush through your mind as you rest on your elbows, face turned to the side to try and see Hobi out of your peripheral vision. His pupils are completely blown, eyes focused only on your center as his chest heaves in anticipation. He’s sizing you up, wondering if you’d be able to accommodate his new size. It worries him deeply, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he knew once he started he wouldn’t be able to control himself like he normally could. You needed to do something, say something to help settle the internal warfare consuming his mind.

“I’m ready, Hoseok.”

His hand is quick to line himself up with your entrance, grasping onto your hips with such pressure that it is sure to leave bruises tomorrow. Sharp fingernails dig into your skin as his tip meets your entrance. It’s fiery and red, inflamed from how hard he is. The precum that leaks from his tip coats your slit, combining with the wetness dripping down your thighs to create a delicious mixture.

One last reassuring squeeze of your side is all he gives before pushing into you ruggedly. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as he makes his way into your core, surprised at this new sensation. His size is bigger than you’d ever taken before, so much thicker and longer than his normal length. It’s a lot to take in at once, and he’s trying his best to let you relax as your body adjusts to his size.

“You can move,” you say, lip caught between your teeth as your walls stretch further around him.

With your fists grasping for the sheets, Hobi begins thrusting his hips slowly  into you– holding out a second each time he bottoms out to let you breathe. His nails only dig into your sides further, the only thing giving him a grip onto reality to hold back his animalistic instincts.

Deep grunts leave his mouth as he tries to hold himself back, but he can feel his humanity slipping further and further away with each clench of your pussy.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he bares his teeth, canines prominent in his bite, “need to breed you now.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as his words meet your ears. 

You’d never had serious baby talk before let alone tried for one. It was his primal instincts talking, you were sure of it. But even if it wasn't there was no turning back now. He was losing control and he was losing it quickly.

Quickly, his hips snap into yours, his muscles flexing as he holds your body steady, fucking into you deeply. Breath is sucked out of you as his pace increases; stars forming at the back of your eyelids as you squeeze them shut, mouth salivating at the increasing pleasure bestowing upon you. His length is a lot to get used to, but the everlasting pressure against your g-spot was making the pain melt away.

Hobi thrusts in and out of your effortlessly, your abundance of arousal coating his cock and making it easy for him to slide in and out of your velvety walls. With each thrust he bottoms out, and it becomes difficult for you to remain upright. Limbs shaking from pleasure, your elbows begin to give way, landing you flat against the mattress.

Your mouth opens, but the only thing able to escape is a silent scream, too immersed in the feeling of him battering your walls to make a sound. A loud leaves you lips as he pulls you back up, his arms wrapping around your waist to use all his strength to hold you in position. His chest is pressed flush against your back, the heat radiating off his body soothing you as his mouth meets your ear. A quick nip is placed on your earlobe as he catches it between his canines. It doesn’t hurt like you’d expect it too, or maybe you’re too caught up in his throbbing shaft plunging into you to notice if it does.

“Taking me so well.”

His praise quickly soothes your nerves, helping you relax into him as he holds your body close, closer than you had ever felt to him before. His tip is repeatedly hitting against the sensitive spot deep inside of you, you know he’s not ready to let up just yet, but you’re too on edge to hold on.

“Hobi I-I’m gonna–”

“I can smell it,” he groans, mouth meeting your neck as he sucks harshly on it. You can feel his canines scraping against your soft skin, itching to break the flesh and claim you. It’s what he’d always wanted – having you here like this just makes it all the more enticing.

A string of cuss words fall from your lips as your eyes clamp shut, relishing in your release as your pussy spasms around his cock. His movements don’t slow either – his pace is still erratic, plummeting into you at an ungodly rate.

Feeling your release over him only makes him thrust harder, deeper. It sends him into a full blown frenzy, unable to keep himself from chasing his high. “Smells so sweet, need to make you mine.”

You knew what this means. You knew you already were his, just not in that way yet. He was holding onto every last ounce of strength to stop himself from biting, from sinking his teeth into your precious skin and claiming you as his mate. It was painful for him to keep at it like this, and you didn’t have any second thoughts before saying it.

“Do it, Hoseok,” the words slip between cries, still shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm, “claim me.”

So he does.

His eyes slam shut as his mouth finds the crook of your neck, breaking the flesh as his canines sink into your skin. Screams blow past your lips as blood begins to trickle from the wound on your shoulder. Your chest tightens in pain, praying for the awful sensation to but cut short and pleasure to take over. Relief takes over once his tongue meets the small incisions made on your skin, his saliva filling the holes and alleviating the wounds as he licks up the blood.

“Mine.”

Your heart flutters at his claim, having never felt as close to him than you do right now. Firecrackers lit through your veins, the connection between you and Hoseok binding to eternity and you couldn’t be happier. It felt like you were floating on thin air. Your body is unable to focus on any pain right now, you’re too blissed out from the shock of him claiming you to notice how his cock is beginning to swell inside of you.

Cum shoots out of his member, filling you up to the brim until your abdomen begins to feel heavy and swell. That floating feeling quickly begins to fade as his orgasm keeps coming and coming, no inch of your insides gone untouched by his seed. It seems like it's never going to end, and you can feel the pressure from his release building and building inside of you. Your sensitive walls stretch as his cock expands; knotting to plug you up and make sure none of his cum drips out.

“Hobi,” you whine, tears spilling from your eyes as his cock continues to inflate inside of you, “Hobi it hurts.”

“Its almost over baby,” he comforts you, stroking your hair before guiding you onto your side, laying behind you. After such a rough round, his familiar touch eases your pain. The light kisses he places along your spine lets you sink back into him, focusing on the feeling of his soft lips instead of the balloon sized cock stretching your vagina. Gentle hands trace circles up and down your arms as you listen to the sound of his calming breath. His chest heaves as he tries to come down from the adrenaline rush.

Soft kisses soon turn into small licks running over the length of your back as you lay there, still speared on his cock. Now that his animalistic needs were met, it was all about you.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning you up,” he answers calmly, his lupine senses finding nothing strange with this new method of aftercare. You’re too immersed in your thoughts to question him any further; if this is what his wolf was telling him to do then so be it.

As Hobi’s knot begins to subdue he doesn’t let go. His tongue soothes over the spot of his mark, now forming into a dark scar to let everyone know you were his. Its crazy how just one bite felt like it could change the entire dynamic of your relationship. You were his now, and he was yours. Forever.

“Hobi?”

“Mmm,” he mumbles, refraining from letting his mouth leave your skin.

“Did you mean that thing you said,” your lip worries between your teeth before you can finish your question, wondering if he even remembers anything that happened or if his wolf took everything over.

“What thing?”

“The thing about breeding me?” Your eyes slam shut to brace yourself from the answer.

“Yes,” he sighs out nonchalantly, like he isn’t admitting that his intentions were to get you pregnant.

“Yes?”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he presses a chaste kiss between your shoulder blades before pulling out. A small whimper leaves your lips at the loss of contact, not sure if you were relieved that he was no longer inside you or not. “Of course I want you to have my pups.”

Butterflies flutter in your tummy as a smile stretches across your face. All you want to do right now is to turn around and kiss him, so you do. His face is just as bright as yours when you meet his eyes. His hair is messy and his skin is shining with perspiration, but he looks beautiful. He welcomes your kiss like he’s been waiting for it all day. Mouth chasing after your lips, capturing them in a quick kiss before pulling away.

It's the first time he’s seen your eyes since you’ve gotten home, and even then he couldn’t appreciate them like he could now. There's a different glow that he didn’t notice before. Maybe it's because he’s bound to you now, willing to do anything and everything for you.

“I love you,” you sigh, pressing your palm to his cheek. He looks so innocent now, the amber in his eyes now faded back to the chocolatey brown color you love so much.

“And I love that you’re mine.”

‘Mine’ is copyright 2020 @parksfilter​, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

[mxvladdy]

Diavolo- True Form

Whoooooooo weeeee! ‘Pologies for the wait on these longer posts. I’ve been hit with a one two punch of house emergencies and sudden costly ass repairs, so my creative juices have been rightly squashed as of late.

Plus side I got my drawing tablet and drafting table back so I can neaten up my blog lay out now (yay!) 

Anyway this one was a challenge in the best possible ways. I really like Diavolo because of how little we know about him so it gave me some wiggle room. Or at least what I know of him- im only on like chapter 23 of the stories. Idk if I did him justice as this is angsty af but I sure had a blast writing it!

Hope ya like! Next up: Beelzebub 

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, and swearing. 

Diavolo-

He'll never show you, so don't ask. His true form is god-like in its own right and such knowledge, such truly raw demonic power in its natural form is not for your mortal eyes.

No matter what your lineage, it would break you. And despite his roles and being the literal devil, he doesn’t want you suffering.

Sometimes when he thinks you wouldn't notice he relaxes his hold on reality, just a fraction. He wants to relieve some of the tension that is always building just below the surface. Like closing your eyes when you have a tension headache. The mental energy he has to exert to keep face is enormous. Regular glamour doesn’t work nearly as well as his own, or Barbato’s magic.

But you see hints during your downtime spent in his company. A ripple in his reflection on the window pane. Unexplainable shadows dancing across his exposed skin. Too many teeth in his mouth when he laughs. Sometimes when you stare into his eyes you see something indescribable staring back behind them. His usually warm and inviting gaze darkening. A barest flicker, a hulking bestial thing kept locked behind in his golden gaze. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

On certain nights when you can slip away from the brothers you stay in his room. Lying  awake, you watch his magic wane and shift as he slumbers. Sometimes you see runes, or at times letters. You are tempted to write them down and ask Solomon. But something stops you each time.

The worst images are the faces. Unknown souls trapped beneath his flesh clawing to be freed. Silent screams fading back into his body as he dreams. Your fragile fingers trace the patterns they leave as you wait for the next day wrapped in his embrace.

Only once have you seen more of his form then he would ever wish. The depths of his strength and mental fortitude were unknown to you so the slip up took you both by surprise. He masks the error well, but the sudden shift in energy in the room couldn’t be suppressed .

You are suddenly so aware of the oppressive weight of gravity on your frame. Your bones grinding together under the force of his aura. You panic, desperate by the need to breathe, but are unable to draw even the smallest bit of oxygen as it is robbed from the room. Time and reality wrapped too, distorting in ways only you thought only Barbatos could do. You knew in that moment the sudden dread of death, how mortally was but a rusty shackle tethering you down.

He collects himself, dispelling the energy and locking his glamour down tight to protect you. But that split second of fury felt like an eternity to you as you sink to the floor. You hiccup a shaky sob and shiver. Your fragile human mind bowing under the strain of what it cannot comprehend. Scolding hot tears fall from your cheeks, before splashing crimson the stone below you.

You didn't approach him again for over a month. No matter how strong you are, some things were better off unseen.

Mini Fic

He didn’t know. For once in his ancient pitiful existence, he had been unaware of his surroundings. It had been for just a moment, one tiny crack in his veneer. The foolishness of Mammon and Belphegor’s actions finally poked the right nerve. He wouldn’t hurt them, for Lucifer’s sake. That prideful demon would never forgive him if he did. But he could scare them. A quick look at his true self; a flash of the deepest bowels of hell. Enough to give them a reminder of their positions and standing in his court. He had expected their whimpers of fear, could taste the acidic tinge of it exuding from their pores. What he didn’t expect though was your blood curdling screams alongside.

Ironically, he would have to thank the second eldest later. His fast thinking is the only thing that saved you from complete damnation. His body shielded yours, taking the brunt of the stronger daemons hellish might for you. What little magic Mammon still had left used to protect you. Though, while your vision was blocked, you could still feel his oppressive presence. It racked your mortal flesh. Diavolo knew what affects his power had on humans. He spent years breaking and consuming damned souls with zeal after all.

The brothers had run from him after that, screaming for Simone. Barbatos following close behind, a look of consternation on his usually impassive face. You had been so limp in Mammon's arms. Diavolo could do nothing, shocked by his own weak will and realization that he might have ruined everything. You had been whisked away so quickly by his faithful servant and the brothers that he hadn’t had a chance to look you over himself. But the brief moment he saw will haunt him for years to come. Your eyes red from the sudden haemolacria, the blood staining your clothes and face. Your fingers digging away at your soft skin, black and purple blotches staining what he could see. Mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He knew what you must have seen. The souls of the damned trapped under his glamour breaking free to latch on to your unmarred soul trying to drag you back with them.

Against his butler's advice he stands at your door now days later trying to see you. He couldn’t sit around and just hear updates second hand. The brothers had been keeping guard most days in a valiant attempt to keep him away. But he could only be waylaid for so long before he used his rank against them.

He had arranged a full council meeting. Every one of the brothers knowing full well it was to get them out of his way. Yet, the order was absolute. This time none of the brothers could reject it. Barbatos would keep them in that room for eternity if he so wished for it. He hated using his age and power against them, but he saw no other way to get to you.

It was foolish now, standing as he was in front of your door. A part of him hoping you would turn the knob and let him in. Let him comfort you for once, instead of the asinine distractions the brothers offered. He could help too. Hells, he wanted to. He wanted to be closer to you. Power discrepancy be damned. The other part of him knowing it was for the best that you didn’t. Your guardian and tormentor all in one. He listens to your muffled sobs for a moment fighting with his feet to stay cemented to the floor instead of heading back in defeat.  

"When my father was still around he took me down to the deepest depths of the kingdom. Where the worst of the traitors and sinners are imprisoned." His deep baritone rumbles through your door during a break in your crying. "It’s a place few seldom go; even now I have yet to return. Back then he told me ‘there will never be a human soul that is undeserving of punishment. Even the ones destined for the celestial realm are tethered to sin.’ At that time I believed him. The things I saw in your realm... " The prince chuckles wearily.

He remembers the ever present scowl on the old King's face. His dark eyes looking out at the sea of damned souls he controlled. Even as a young daemon, fresh into his wings and still sharpening his horns to impress others he could tell how much his father detested his position. How it had warped him, turning him bitter and cold, even to his mate and only child.

Diavolo never wanted to be like that. Not to the ones he supposedly cared for at the very least. "I think that is why he hated the other realms so much.” He continued. “Humans, for their ability to choose which realm they would eventually end up in after they pass. That even the worst sinners could find redemption enough at the last moment to get to the pearly gates. While daemons, no matter how well they served, or the duties they did for the good of their own would never be seen as equals to our celestial counterparts or yours. That this existence is all we'll ever be destined to have. Nightmares and monsters, stories to tell little human children to keep them in line.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I believed wholeheartedly that every human deserved the punishments only my kind could dowel out. But, in this past year I have spent with you, I find myself changing. You are so undeserving of such torment. Somehow you are understanding and forgiving beyond measure to us. You handle our ill tempers with such grace. For daemons such as us, it is staggering, and humbling. I regret that I have hurt you so deeply and have broken your trust. I swear it as the head of this realm I would never intentionally do so." He looks at the door handle willing it to open. " I am so sorry."

Your crying picks up again. Huge heaving sobs that rattle your chest. Great Father, he just keeps making it worse. Clearing his head Diavolo turns.

Rejection of this nature was new to him. No one had ever dared to ignore him, especially such as this. The royal in him- his father's blood- seethed that he would even stoop so low as to grovel to a short lived thing like yourself. Even deeper yet, it demanded another taste of your essences. You little soul kept safe behind your rib cage. He wanted it added to his collection, kept tucked away deep within his maws.

It was sick; it was wrong. He chokes on the idea. The intrusive thought burrowing deep. How deplorable was he? Perhaps the angels were right to keep him out of heaven.

You didn't show to class the following day, or the days after. Unsurprising to him and the seven of the inner council. He figured the other day wouldn’t change anything. But it was utter agony to him. These days trapped in his office only getting short and curt updates on your health from Lucifer. It had been a special kind of torment.

Today he sat once again at his desk staring at some godforsaken bitching of a royal cousin. He knew this whelp. Some backwater thrice removed eons ago. Yet he was demanding an audience? The gall. The ink of their eligible handwriting makes him cross eyed. Would this day ever cease? He looks to his hourglass, the sands within seemingly frozen in time.

"My Lord, perhaps you should take a moment to stretch your legs?" Barbatos moved from his corner. Gloved hand coming to rest on top of the same three lines he had been reading for the past two hours. "This work could wait another evening I’m certain ."

"Did I do the right thing my friend?" Diavolo doesn't even bother answering the question his servant posed. They both knew he wouldn't. "This program. Our human exchange students. Solomon is one thing, but-"

"Your will and path is absolute." Barbatos states. "There are no mistakes within you, merely stumblings onto different paths."

With a gentle push Barbatos moves the hulking demon out of his way to collect and organize the scrolls and letters scattered about the large desk. "You made the right choice bringing them here. Look at what they have done. They are entertainment to you are they not?"

The prince rose knocking his desk aside and descended on his butler. His true form out in all its unholy glory now. His highly condensed magic distorting the study as if he was a black hole. The axis of the room shifts. His priceless collection of books and toys disintegrating from the cold radiation he emits.

It was all for show really. There was nothing he could do to an ancient being such as Barbatos. So he lashed out, throwing a tantrum in the security of his office. The hopeless agitation he felt fueling the flames of his rage. His butler had only added holy water to his already festering wounds.

Barbatos had been by his side for time in memoriam. The crafty bastard had helped raise him. Had shaped him into the ruler he was today. If anyone could break and remold him it would be his oldest companion.

The dark haired daemon waited for the waves of agitation to dry up. Moving only when the prince was in his more presentable demonic form. Large barrel chest heaving as he reined himself in. “Are you back to your senses?” He asks coolly, already categorizing the items to replace and furniture to be mended.

"I had not meant for it to go like this."  Diavolo croaks into his hands collapsing back on what remained of his desk. Building a bridge between realms, yes. That noble idea was the greater purpose of this program, but the rest of it. The classes, and dances. The parties where he threw his newest toys about to see how they would react to things other mortals worshiped? That had been for his own curiosity and amusement. Lesser beings navigating a foreign world blind to the dangers that were right under their very nose. Bring a mortal with no magic into his realm? Deep down he knew this was an inevitability. Especially with the freedoms he granted them. He just didn’t think he would get so attached.

“No one believes that you would hurt them on purpose.” His butler cuts off his downward spiral. “It would ruin the program. That is what you are so stressed about, right?” Barbatos eyes him skeptically. Diavolo, himself, and Lucifer had spent many sleepless weeks constructing and negotiating this program. If the Arch Angels heard a mortal was hurt down here it could very well end this little escapade. But the look in the prince’s eyes told a different story.

A warm glow emanated from his cheeks and he was unable to meet the old daemon’s gaze. Ah. "Or perhaps things have changed?" Barbatos smiles coyly up from beneath his bangs. "You are your mother's son after all. Neither of you were ever able to stem your bleeding hearts for long." Diavolo squawked indignantly but didn’t argue. Instead he merely turns a darker shade of red and curses under his breath.

He skipped out on court that evening. Not that he cared much. The other nobles would no doubt use the time to gossip about his whereabouts and uncouth behavior of late. Truth be told, he was avoiding the brothers more than anything else. They had made it expressly clear (some more then others) how they felt about him currently. He wouldn't doubt that Belphegor had a few more brothers on his side now.

Instead he stood at your door once more with a tea tray in hand. He had bumped into Simone on the way. The angel had come to bring you dinner and to check up on the last of your wounds. Celestial magic worked miracles on those who have been touched by the darker arts. Diavolo was grateful for his talents. And, by some miracle, Simone had made it abundantly clear he was not going to bring this to the higher ups on his end either.

Upon seeing the prince slinking up the house's stairwell the other man had simply smiled and offered him the tray. “I suddenly got a message from Luke. Could you perhaps drop this by our friend’s door?” Diavolo had accepted without preamble, large hands dwarfing the platter of little tea cakes and sandwiches. The young cherubs work no doubt. His cooking was a fine treat, and a great incentive to at least open the door.

“Hello again.” He knocks twice. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know I am the last person you wish to see but I was hoping to talk?” Silence greets him. Were you awake? He breathes deeply and focuses on picking up your vitals. You were up, your heart thumping steady somewhere in the room. That was good. “I also have dinner for you. Simone had an urgent matter to attend to so he- for better or worse- entrusted this to me.”

Diavolo searches hopelessly for something else to say. He couldn’t just leave the food and go. He needed to see you. “I don’t plan on staying long today. I understand when I am not wanted, but I cannot help myself but be worried for you. Perhaps this is just me contritioning, because I know I caused this. The amount of times I have been called a ‘ass’ by Solomon over this have been staggering.” He rambles. After another bout of silence from your end he coincides. “I see- I will leave the food by the door and let you rest.” Defeated he puts the food down and turns to leave.

The door clicks open slowly. One bloodshot eye peeking through the crack. “Oh mio piccolo mortale.” He loses his grip on your shared tongue at a loss. You looked- you must have been in the hall longer then he or the brothers had known. Such damage couldn’t be done in a few moments. Your skin was healing as nicely as Lucifer had said, but the deep purple scarring still remained on the surface. The burn pattern of it all was random. Twisting wounds that reflected an oily sheen from the light of the hallway. “I-.”

“I know-” You cut him off with a raised hand. “and I feel as though I owe you an apology too.” Your voice was so weak and shaky. A mockery of your normally strong and jovial tone. Hearing you laugh at school had brightened the dreary halls. He hadn’t realized it until you weren't there.

“You owe me nothing.” Diavolo says in earnest. He watches you contemplate your next words before throwing whatever you were going to say away.

“Would you like to come in?” Your eyes drop to the tray. “Luke always makes more than I can eat.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” He backs out. All his plans crashing and burning around his feet. His actions had been irreparable.

“Perhaps not,” You open the door wider taking the tray and heading to your side table, leaving him no room to argue. “But then again, being a lamb among such wolves as yourself and the brothers isn’t smart either.” You meant it as a joke but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle. It was true. Gods. “Dia-” You approach him again but falter at the last second.

As much as you wanted to be close to him again the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The cold hell fire of his magic ensnaring you, searing your skin. The whispered words of sinners long since past still echoing in your head, all in languages you’ve never heard before. The worst though had to be the screaming. Lost souls begging for help. Some sounded so familiar…You shutter involuntarily.

You wanted to hate him for this. Curse him for putting you through this pain. But how much could you blame him? Or any of them? They were daemons. Whether he meant to hurt you or not, it truly had only been a matter of time before it happened. It would be hypocritical of you to fear or hate him forever over this. Six of the seven brothers have threatened your life before, and you have forgiven them. Hell, one of them actually killed you. What’s more was that Diavolo’s wrath hadn’t even been directed at you.

Wrong place at the right time; seemed to be your forte. “Please, come in.” You repeat again firmer than before mustering up either courage or sheer human stupidity to order him in. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “We need to talk.”  

He enters, following at your heel like a lost puppy. All air of princedom gone as you clicked the door shut. Diavolo fiddles with his hands, old habits from childhood coming with his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. Yelling? Some kind of beratement? A plea to go home and never look back?  He would let you.

You pass by him, giving him a large berth of space to get to your seat. “Tea?”  

Diavolo jerks his head to you. He had forgotten momentarily the plate of food he had used to get access to you. You smile sheepishly pushing it and a plate of sweets towards him with your unbandaged knuckles. He doesn’t move till your hand retracts back to your lap. You jerk your head to the open seat waiting for him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“I- thank you.” The daemon sits making himself as small as possible in the straight back chair. He takes the porcelain and drinks mindlessly. The scalding hot tea doing little to help the tightness of his throat, but it did thaw some of the ice in his mind.

“Are-how…” He fumbles so unsure of what to do next. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your school work.” Diavolo closes his eyes, wincing internally at his words. That’s what he comes up with? Idiotic.

You smile anyway, eyeing the massive pile of books and paperwork spewn about your bed. “Yeah. I’ve taken to doing my school work with Levi in his room. Mammon and Beel are nice enough to drop it off to the teachers when they are due.” He nods. He knew this of course. But it was nice to hear it from you. But yet, you don’t meet his eyes. Far too afraid to see what hid behind them.

The thought of being dragged back into those dark depths again makes your pulse quicken. You instead stare at your nail beds, finding them more interesting. They were purple now. The nails stained black by the contact with his magic. “Will- will that go away?” He asks. Demonic curses or taints were nigh impossible to remove fully. Disgustingly, he hoped they didn’t. Then your nails would match his. The darker depths of his soul coo at the idea, happy that in a small way every daemon would know your his. Not as good as a pact, but as close as he could get to being a part of your little mortal life.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly bringing your hands up to place them on the table. “Simone and Solomon have done what they could. But, it is as good as it’s going to get for now. They say it could fade with time.” You look up at him, eyes gazing to the left of his face. “Luke thinks I should see a stronger angel.” Diavolo winces, the thought stung, and terrified him. “I told him no.”

That surprised him. This was your chance. The celestial realm had been skeptical from the beginning. If they knew, it would be a perfect caveat for them to step in. “Why?” Finally you look at him. The fear was still there. Hesitation evident in your eyes. Yet you forced yourself to look at him, fighting through your trepidation.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About your father and what you think of me?”

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation reaching for your cold hands. You flinch but don’t move away. It felt-nice. His warmth chasing away the perpetual chill that covered your fingertips. Idly you stroke his strong hands with your thumbs.

“Then, I think we can work on this privately.” Slowly but surely you felt like you could fix this. Not for the program, but for yourself.  

[preciouspeterbparker]

would it be enough?

okay this isn’t edited or anything, but! here’s a little ficlet i started a few months ago and got the inspiration to finish. 

title from & inspired by “peace” by tsweezy (that song makes me cry every time bc i feel like i’m never gonna get my happily ever after lol, so i had to give peter his)

word count: 1.6k

warnings: depression, happy ending, borderline personality disorder, domesticity, discussions of mental health issues

It’s dark in the bathroom. The only light is coming in from the frosted window over the bathtub, scattered beams pouring through the glass of the shower. There are two bodies underneath the rainfall showerhead, wrapped up in each other. 

The taller of the two men pulls away slightly, reaching for a non-descript bottle of shampoo. He squeezes some into his hand, while his partner pumps a blob of body wash on a loofah. Their actions are like a choreographed dance as the smaller of the two tilts his head into the other’s skilled fingers, his own hand moving to lather at the sculpted chest in front of him. 

Peter sighs at the feeling of Tony’s nails scratching at his scalp. He loves moments like this; where it’s just the two of them enjoying each other’s company, forgetting the world outside of the little bubble of peace they’ve created. Running the loofah across the older man’s shoulder and down his bicep, he watches the way the shadows and light drift over the skin. Carefully, he presses the pad of his thumb to the pale, mottled scar tissue covering the center of Tony’s chest where the reactor used to sit, rubbing gentle circles into the skin. It’s smooth to the touch, bare of the greying curls that are smattered from his pecs all the way down to the ‘v’ of his hips. 

He loves this body- its strength, the way it makes him feel protected, the things it can do to his own. Looking up into Tony’s eyes, he thinks of how much he loves the man it belongs to. “I love you,” he says softly, puckering his lips as he’s maneuvered so that his head is under the water once more. 

“I love you more,” Tony replies automatically. “Close your eyes, Pete.” His hands tilt Peter’s head back and he runs his fingers through the foam saturated curls. Once the front is rinsed, he opens his mouth again, “‘kay you can open now.” He takes his time washing all of the remaining suds out as the younger man continues to run the sudsy netting over his skin. 

Next is the apricot scented conditioner that Peter loves. He applies a handful to the dripping auburn locks and rubs the excess into his own salt and pepper hair. Then Tony clocks the way his boyfriend is grinning goofily up at him. It brings a smile to his face as well. “What’s so funny, why’re you smiling at me like that, Pete?”

Peter’s eyes shine as they meet the older man’s. “You’ve got soap on your nose.” He hands Tony the loofah and runs his fingers under the water so that he can reach up to wipe the white foam from the other’s face. “Got it,” he says softly, letting out a quiet sigh as Tony rubs the sudsy loofah over his shoulders. 

Moments like this, as peaceful as they are, are nothing if not effervescent. Even as he stands there under the warm spray, Peter can feel the chill settling deep in his bones and beginning to weigh him down. There’s a knot forming in his chest. He takes a deep breath and tries not to focus on it. He takes in the smell of their bath products, the feel of his big toe bumping against the inside of Tony’s foot. He listens to the sounds of their breathing, the water swirling down the drain. If he ignores the feeling it will go away. 

It doesn’t quite work, and Tony makes a soft questioning sound in the back of his throat and pulls the shorter man a little closer as he rubs the soapy netting in soft circles over the expanse of his back.

Peter lets his forehead rest on Tony’s collar bone. His chest feels- tight. He takes a slow, shuddering breath and tries to calm himself down. He’s starting to get restless, that weird fizzly feeling thrumming in his muscles. “It won’t always be like this, Tony,” he mutters, self-deprecatingly. His arms wrap around his partner’s waist in an attempt to comfort himself. “I’m...I have bad days. So bad sometimes…” He succumbs to the lump in his throat and lets his voice trail off at the end in an attempt to keep it from breaking. His eyes start to burn. He doesn’t mention that he can almost feel one coming on now- 

How did he go from being perfectly happy to feeling like he’s falling apart in the span of a few minutes? It never fails to make him feel ridiculous, how sensitive he is to his own thoughts. If only he could control it, if only he wasn’t so-

Another gentle noise from Tony, who presses a kiss to the shell of his ear. “I know. I love you every day, Peter. Not just when you’re having a good day.” 

Peter lets out a frustrated noise, followed by a shaky sigh. “But...you’re so good, Tony. You’re, you’re normal, and… And I- I’m never gonna be that, I won’t ever really, truly know what that’s like.” And he won’t. Because even on the good days, he’s always aware that it won’t last. Just like the current situation. “There are days where all I can manage is sitting in front of the TV, wrapped in a blanket.” His voice breaks, and the tears that had been stinging at his eyes begin to fall in earnest. “I’ll- I’ll go days without showering because I can’t bring myself to get up long enough to take one, and I’ll put it off until I literally can’t stand it anymore because I stink so bad.” A  soft sob rips its way up from his lungs, his whole body shaking with the force of it. Fuck-

Tony just rinses him off under the water, eyes full of compassion as he wraps his arms around him. “It’s alright baby, I’m listening. I’m here.”

The young man splutters, gasping as he starts up again, voice quiet. “I’ll split on you, there will be days where I’ll forget how much I love you, forget all the good stuff. Even though I know, Tony I know how much you love me, I do, but there will be days where I’ll swear that you don’t, that you never did.” 

He’s not sure why he’s saying all of this. Maybe because they haven’t actually had this conversation. Tony knows about his mental illness, of course, but honestly, Peter had been content to let him do his own research about his condition and what that would mean for them. What he would have to deal with every day for the rest of their lives. He hadn’t wanted the words to come out of his own mouth. He refused to be the catalyst that would force him to watch the love of his life realize that he wasn’t good enough, that he was too reactive, too sensitive. That he was just- too much. In every way. 

Too late for that now.

“I know, baby. Peter, I know all of that. I’m not going anywhere. You being borderline didn’t scare me before we got together, and it doesn’t scare me now.”

And something about that rubs Peter the wrong way. He wants to scream. “But it should, Tony! We’re talking about moving in together and you... You shouldn’t have to deal with my- With my crazy.” He cuts himself off and bites at his wobbling lower lip when he notices the way Tony is looking at him. He looks- hurt, almost. “What?”

Tony’s voice is low. “Don’t you ever call yourself crazy. You’re not crazy. You know what you are? You’re my boyfriend. You’re the most generous person I’ve ever met. You give the most amazing snuggles. You’re sensitive and extremely empathetic, and you always know the right thing to say. You’re helpful. You’re expressive, and in touch with your emotions, which can’t be said about most people. You are beautiful Peter, and so is this brain of yours and everything that comes with it. I wouldn’t change you for the world, okay?” 

He pauses to press their mouths together and looks down at Peter, who stopped crying during his little speech and is now gazing at him with adoration in his eyes. “And baby, I know we aren’t married yet but I mean it- for better or worse, through sickness and in health. Or, uh,” he trails off, suddenly looking a bit shy. “However it goes. You know what I mean.”

Peter blinks up at him, heart fluttering in his chest. He’s disoriented by the sudden surge of serotonin flooding his system. This is exactly what he means, but- “You- You wanna marry me?” A shaky smile takes over his lips at the thought. Forever with Tony. 

Tony chuckles. “Of course I do. Who else is gonna put up with me?” He presses another kiss to Peter’s forehead before dragging him under the water. “Let’s wash this conditioner out, put on some comfy jammies- Ah, yes I know we just woke up- and lay in bed today, hmm? I’ll be big spoon.”

The younger man grins, squeezing his eyes shut as the water cascades down his face. “Sounds like a good deal to me- Hey wait.” He cracks an eye open and squints at Tony. “That wasn’t you proposing, right? Because I think I deserve-”

An affronted noise leaves Tony’s mouth. “You can wash out your own damn conditioner! Who do you take me for? Of course that wasn’t a real proposal- I have standards!”

Peter just laughs as the man’s fingers don’t move from their place in his hair.

That knot is still in his chest but-

The good moments, like this? They’re enough to make everything else worth it.

[spicycreativity]

Intertwined - Chapter 1

Rating: Teen

Content Warnings: It's a hanahaki fic, so. Mild body horror, blood, respiratory illness. (Starts at Ch 3 and gets worse from there).

Characters: All

Pairing: Moceit

Additional Notes: This one was supposed to be Darker and Longer, but turns out I'm not in the headspace to write angst atm, so it ends up moving p fast. Swaps between Janus and Patton's POVs. Post-PoF, light angst. Not whump. They both get hanahaki, but there is absolutely no version of Moceit in my mind where Janus isn't the one who falls first. My AO3 username is WizatdGlick.

Summary: The story of how Janus and Patton find each other at rock bottom and fall in love anyway.

A gentle knock on Janus' door drew him out of his thoughts. He donned a mask of triumph as he rose to open it, straightening his hat as he went. It couldn't be Remus; Remus never knocked so softly, which meant that Janus had to perform. He slid into the role with difficulty, struggling to find the edges of this gloating persona when all he felt was numb and tired and lost.

It was Patton at the door, and Janus felt everything slip, and Patton's eyes lit up with recognition, and all of Janus' resolve fell away in the face of that beseeching gaze.

"Come for another debate?" Janus asked in a low voice, making no effort to hide his ironical smile.

Patton smiled too, though he dropped it a moment too soon. Janus got the distinct impression that Patton was also far too wrung-out to put on any kind of act tonight. "Just came to check on you."

It would be as natural as breathing for Janus to draw back, place his fingertips delicately to his chest, widen his eyes. ' Check on me?' he would say, all faux-innocence, ' Please, Patton, I'm not a child. I don't need your pity.'

But he didn't.

Here was Patton, reaching out, and hadn't that been what Janus had wanted all along? That tiny, fervent flame that he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge, that smallest ember of hope that someone might just give him what he was convinced he had to take.

The seconds stretched out until the silence verged on awkward, and Janus' pride stood up to do what his cunning would not: "I'm fine." He was fine, strangely. Not happy, as he perhaps should have been, but nothing hurt.

Patton's brow furrowed. "Am I supposed to believe that?" he asked gently.

Something warm and soft and dangerous bloomed in Janus' chest at Patton's look of confusion. He had freckles on his nose, scattered like spilled cinnamon: a trait assigned by Thomas’ subconscious. "Patton," Janus said, flicking his gaze upwards to meet Patton's eyes. "Would you like to come in?"

"To your room ?" Patton asked, eyes widening. He looked past Janus' shoulder and Janus fought not to move and block Patton's gaze with his body. He had just invited Patton in; there was no point getting shy now. "Won't that, y'know, do something to me?"

"It's just a matter of self-control," Janus said, hoping to get a smile out of Patton.

Sure enough, Patton did smile. "What color is my shirt?"

Janus said, "True blue," and stepped backwards to let Patton in.

It was a risk to bring someone into his room like this, but he felt unusually clear-headed tonight, calm and strangely secure despite the fact he had just let a known enemy past his defenses, and despite the exhaustion that made every breath feel heavy.

"Warm in here," Patton remarked, looking around.

Janus motioned him over to a set of armchairs. To be seen was to be judged, and he wasn't sure what he would do if Patton found him lacking again . "I have a question for you, Patton."

In the low light, the tear tracks on Patton's cheeks glimmered when he tilted his head inquisitively. "You do?"

Janus nodded, slow and calculated. He was sure he already knew the answer to the question, and preemptive anger bubbled thick and hot in his veins. "Who," he said, unable to keep from glaring, "came to check on you?"

"Well," said Patton, "Ah… They don't-- Everyone's upset right now--"

"And you're not?" Janus demanded. "And don't you dare tell me that you're fine." His emotions were running too hot; he needed to check himself, but seeing Patton make excuses filled him with a passion he'd only ever felt on Thomas' behalf.

"I am--"

"Don't."

"But I have to be," Patton whispered. "I can't-- I know they told me… They said it was okay for me to be sad, but--"

"If you fall apart, there's no one there to pick up the pieces," Janus guessed. "Sure, you can be sad, as long as it doesn't interfere with your role."

"Don't be mad at them," Patton pleaded, and Janus realized with a jolt that he would get into no one's good graces by slinging around insults.

"It's just hard," Janus said plainly, only half-noticing the words coming out of his mouth. He had just become aware of a keen and sickening new desire, borne on the back of a newfound respect for Patton that he had even lasted this long without having some sort of spectacular breakdown. Janus' whole chest ached with it, that and the equally sickening knowledge that he had just become horrifically vulnerable, that he had fallen under a spell he could never hope to break.

He saw it in his mind's eye: he saw himself stand and lean over, take Patton's jaw in his hands, kiss him long and deep and slow. He saw himself lay his body and soul bare before Patton, getting on his knees to forgive Patton all his perceived flaws. He meant well, after all. He only ever meant well, and it wasn't really his fault that those good intentions were capable of morphing into a cruel and deadly weapon.

But he would plunge that weapon straight into Janus' heart before their lips could ever even meet. Janus could see it now, Patton pulling away in confusion and disgust. His tenuous patience would give out then and there, and Janus would have no hope of acceptance ever again. Same for Remus, probably. They would remain Dark Sides forever, damned to be eternal outcasts. All thanks to Janus' pathetic inability to control himself.

"Why do you care so much about…" Patton hesitated for a moment and gave a shallow sigh. "Well, about me?"

And now Janus found himself walking a chasm’s edge. His instinct was to lean hard into the opposite of the truth and insult Patton so deeply that he left and never came back. Eliminate the threat. But that wasn't an option now of all times. No, he had to maintain a friendship with Patton, somehow. He had to keep himself under control. How fun. "You're a part of Thomas," Janus said. He paused.

"So are the others."

"You've earned my respect."

"Oh," said Patton. "Wow, um. Gosh, that's…" His lower lip trembled. "I should go," he said in a broken voice.

Janus surveyed him in silent agony, teetering on the precipice of a lie. With a monumental effort, he pulled himself away from it and opened his arms. "Come here."

The floodgates opened. Patton fell into Janus' lap, already sobbing. Janus held him, all his muscles stiff and awkward. He was much smaller in the mindscape than he was in Thomas’ eyes and it was difficult to support Patton’s much larger frame. A sharp pain flared in Janus’ collarbone where Patton had buried his forehead and his tears were already starting to seep through Janus' clothes. He cringed at himself and the absurdity of the situation, wishing he had some way to make it better. He should have had words for this, all the right words to soothe away Patton's worries and set him right again. But he was so tired.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Patton said through shuddering sobs that dug his forehead harder into Janus' clavicle.

"It's okay," Janus said, concentrating hard on keeping the effects of his room at bay.

"Are you--" Patton sniffled " --sure you're okay?"

A rush of affection melted Janus' heart and he sighed and held Patton closer despite the shooting pain in his collarbone and the ache in his arms. Even in the midst of a post-breakdown breakdown, Patton was self-sacrificing (self- destructive) enough to check in on him. "You don't have a selfish bone in your body, do you?" Janus sighed, lamenting Patton’s bleeding heart. For some reason, this only made Patton cry harder. Janus cast his mind back to the last time Remus was this upset, found nothing, had to speculate. He and Remus and Virgil were self-sufficient, secretive. When it came to personal crises, they weathered them alone and bore the aftermath in stoicism. "Do you want me to play with your hair?"

"I don't know," Patton sobbed into Janus' chest.

Janus sighed and began to run his fingers through Patton's honey-colored hair, grateful that the thick material of his gloves kept their skin from touching. It was better this way, and a good reminder for Janus. He guarded his heart so closely for a reason.

 

Janus, despite the discomfort from the awkward weight distribution and the clammy feeling of cooled tears on his shirt, was half-asleep in the chair by the time Patton stopped crying.

"Sorry," Patton said, pulling away, and even with snot and tears all over his flushed cheeks, even with his eyes all red and puffy behind his fogged-up glasses and his hair standing up at strange diagonals from Janus' attempts at comfort, he was radiant.

"For having feelings?" Janus asked, gently imaging himself into a new, dry shirt.

"For making them your problem." Patton took his glasses off and began to polish them on the hem of his own shirt.

"Patton, I need you to know this." Janus waited until Patton looked at him before continuing, "I owe you nothing. If I had wanted you to leave, I would have asked you to leave and thought nothing of it."

Patton nodded and went back to polishing his glasses. They were silent for a long moment, during which Janus found himself unable to suppress a series of yawns. It must have been around 4:00 in the morning by this point. They had to have been the only ones awake.

"Hey, Janus," Patton said, finally putting his glasses back on. "You know The Breakfast Club?"

"Yes," Janus said distractedly, trying to figure out where Patton was going with this.

"This wasn't our version of that, was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"When tomorrow comes and we're back to, to some sort of normal… You'll still be my friend, right?"

Now here was a situation Janus had never once envisioned for himself. He had pictured winning over Roman, had pictured gaining Thomas' support. Never once had he expected real friendship with any of them, let alone Patton. "Yes," he said, feeling sick at the irony of it. He had been comfortable as Patton's enemy, was now yearning for his kiss… How could he be friends with Patton when he burned like this for Patton's wholehearted affection? Was he really just supposed to endure it?

Patton smiled, so sweet and earnest that Janus had to bite down on his tongue. "Good," he said. "Speaking of, do you wanna have breakfast with me?"

"Not right now, I hope," Janus teased.

"No, no, not right now." Patton muffled a yawn into his sleeve. "I guess I'd better go."

Janus nodded. "See you in the morning?"

"Um," said Patton, who didn't appear to have been listening. "Thank you, Janus. You didn't have to-- Well, thank you."

He sank out without another word.

Janus imagined himself into his pajamas, imagined the lights off and threw himself onto his bed. "Fuck."

 

--

 

Frigid air seeped from the hallway seeped under the crack where Janus' door stopped just short of the carpet. He didn't allow himself to notice, and continued to put his outfit on piece by agonizing piece. The cold air made his joints slow and achy, and he struggled to get the clasps done up. It was just as well that he hadn't put on his gloves yet. He had become quite adept at handling things while wearing them, but for this task, the bulky fabric would only get in the way. After all, just like his singular snake fang, his gloves were for aesthetics, not function.

Finally, he donned his hat and faced the door, forced to confront that fatal truth: He could never have what he wanted. The moment he had achieved his goal of Thomas’ acceptance, the triumph had slipped away in his hands to be replaced with a truly unattainable goal.

Memories from last night, the phantom sensation of Patton in his arms, teased him until he had to sneer at himself. Pathetic. He was acting pathetic. Falling for Patton was strategically inadvisable, even if he couldn’t help it, but actively pursuing him was out of the question. It was all-risk, no reward. Still, his treacherous heart fluttered, teasing him with the thought of Patton’s lips on his own, Patton’s hands on his body, sharing heat, deepening the kiss--

“All risk,” Janus said out loud to himself, “no reward.” A mantra to see him through. He opened his door, his gloved hand slipping a little on the polished brass of his doorknob, and nearly walked straight into Remus as he passed by with an armful of dismembered dolls.

“Well,” said Janus, tilting his head to better examine the pile of plastic limbs and bodies in Remus’ arms, “I won’t ask what you’re up to.” He stifled a yawn behind his hand, visualizing a piping hot cup of coffee. A shudder wrecked his concentration and he frowned. “Are you the reason it’s so cold in here?”

Remus ignored the question, his feverish eyes darting from Janus’ mouth to his hand to his face. “I knew you were up late last night. That’s why I came this way.” He gave a crooked but strangely boyish grin. “I wanted to know where you’d gotten off to. Or who you’d gotten off with. ”

Janus, to his horror, blushed. Fragmented images flashed through his head-- What if he had kissed Patton? And Patton had kissed back? Mask, mask, mask! “I was spreading the Gospel.”

“You were spreading something , though, weren’t you?” Remus shifted the dolls in his arms and held up a masculine torso. “I know I heard Big Daddy’s voice. Play a little game of Patton- Snake , did you?”

Janus swore he could hear porcelain cracking as his heart began to race. “In all seriousness, Remus, we did reach an agreement.”

“Sounds like you reached more than that.” Remus waggled his tongue.

God, he was relentless when he was on the scent of something. Janus hid his face behind his hands, realizing a moment too late that this display of shame would only add fuel to the fire. So he took the only option left and muttered, “Boundaries,” into his palms.

“Oh,” said Remus, leaning back on his heels. “ Oh. Janus, you didn’t .”

“Of course we didn't!” Janus hissed, dropping his hands.

"But you wanted to?"

“How much did you hear yesterday, anyway?”

“Oh, I heard the whole debacle, including that heartwarming little moment at the end,” Remus said, rocking forward onto his toes. “Thanks for putting in a good word for me, by the way.”

They fell into an awkward silence as Janus once again reached for words that simply weren’t there. “I didn’t mean it,” he said finally, cursing himself.

“No?” said Remus. “Not even a teeny tiny little bit?” He poked Janus in the chest with the plastic torso, still clenched in his left hand. “Right here?”

“You,” said Janus, “are just as evil as I am.”

Remus backed off with a grin, leaving Janus in doubt that he had ever even been angry in the first place. “So where are you off to now? Roman’s got this place awfully cold; gonna go warm Patton’s snake?”

“You already made a ‘Patton snake’ joke,” Janus said, slamming another mask onto his face to hide his blush. “But to answer your question, he asked me to join him for breakfast.”

“Aww.” Remus wiped fake tears from his cheeks. “You better not start spending too much time with him or I’m going to get jealous.”