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sheepiemc · 8 months

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Seven Stupid Reasons to Summon a Demon

Reason #4: need to scream about a bad book

CW: strong language (it's not anything too vulgar, MC just says fuck a lot because wrath - if this were a movie, it would be rated R for language)

Today was the perfect day to read.

It’s been gloomy all week, today included, and you finally got a day off from work. You have this book that you’ve been meaning to finish for a few weeks now and by gosh, you intend to get through it today.

When you first started it, you only got 20 pages in but you told yourself you just haven’t gotten to the good part yet. You’ve been trying to get to the good part all day but something else captures your attention. Like how your cat needs to be played with, or your plants need to be watered, or it’s a great day to make soup!

Perfect soup day…

Now you gotta make soup.

And when your cat sits in your lap to take a nap, well, it’s not like you can get up and get your book that’s sitting on the coffee table oh-so-far away. There’s always something getting between you and this damn book.

Next thing you know, the sun is setting (at least, you think it is; the gray clouds are so heavy you can’t really tell how low the sun is in the sky) and you haven’t made any progress.

When your cat finally releases you to complain about not being fed yet, you are determined to at least make a bigger dent than before. Once the little prince has been fed, you settle on the couch and get to reading.

And you read for a bit — 30 pages — before your leg falls asleep and you switch positions on the couch. Then, you keep reading — 40 pages — before the silence gets to you and you have to pick some music to fit the mood. Now, you can keep reading and you get to 50 pages — before you just end up staring out the window.

You think you hear thunder in the distance but you can’t be sure. Not unless you sit in silence and stare out the window for 15 minutes without hearing any more thunder. Maybe it was a sound effect in the music you’re listening to.

Your eyelids are getting kinda heavy but you slap your cheeks lightly to wake yourself up. You just gotta get to the good part! You get 10 more pages in before you feel your head lolling forward and your eyelids droop once again. You snap to attention once again and decide it’s time to take a phone break. You got as far as you did, you’ve earned it.

After scrolling through social media for a bit, your curiosity gets the better of you and you casually Google: “when do we get to the good part” in the book you're reading. You usually try to avoid reviews of books before you read them because you don’t want other people’s opinions influencing your judgment, but this book is proving quite difficult to get through on its own. Maybe if you know something good is coming around the corner, you’ll be more interested in reading it; what you end up finding thoroughly surprises you.

More than that, it boils your blood.

“WHAT?” You say out loud, to no one in particular.

You’re fuming!

“What the FUCK?”

You’re so mad, in fact, you have to let all this energy out somewhere!

You need to vent.

And you know exactly who you need to call in this situation.

You march all the way back to your room, book in hand, to get that cursed book off its specific, and highly prized, spot on your bookshelf. You close your eyes and concentrate, taking in several deep breaths as you do.

You open your eyes to a flash of green light and Satan stands before you in your room, with a look of surprise gracing his features.

“MC, to what do I owe—” He notices your wrath bubbling just under the surface, which is unusual but not unwelcome to him, “—the pleasure?”

You calmly replace the cursed book back on your shelf and hold the other “cursed” book up for Satan to see. “I’m tired of this stupid book!”

“Ah,” Satan nods once and uses magic to pull up your desk chair to sit in. “Of course. Go on.”

You let out a shout of frustration before you continue, “It just never got any better! After I gave it so many chances!”

Satan nods in understanding.

“The main character is just so annoying, she’s a serious NLOG. ‘Oh, I used to be like other girls, but now I’m not because I like sex and I murdered a guy once but he probably deserved it.’ Like, get in line.”

At that, Satan chuckles but he doesn’t interrupt your train of thought. Your cat peeks his head in at the commotion and makes a beeline for Satan’s lap once he spots him.

“And she has zero self-preservation instincts! Like she goes to confront a guy — who is definitely a vampire, by the way — ALONE, IN AN ALLEY, AFTER SHE WATCHED HIM KILL A GUY, and she has the nerve to question him about said murder?”

“Huh, a human? Going up against a creature much more powerful than themselves? What a foolish person they must be.”

“Hush, smart guy, I’m not done ranting.”

Satan laughs, “Continue.”

“On top of all that sheer stupidity, I find out that this other main character that was definitely advertised to be a vampire — he’s not even a FUCKING VAMPIRE, he only BECOMES a vampire at the very end of the book!”

“No…”

“YES! And it’s not because he wants to. It's to save his life! That means this fool is running around in out-of-fashion clothes and saying things like, ‘If you’ve been alive as long as I have…’ for the DRAMA of it all!”

Satan tsks.

“I feel like I’ve been cheated!! And there’s four other books in the series??? Why should I keep reading this garbage? Nope, I can’t do it anymore. I’m done.”

You punctuate that last statement by throwing the book on the bed with a huff.

Satan scritches your cat’s chin as he says, “You know what I think?”

“What—”

“I think you need new reading material.” He stands up from his chair and lifts your boy into his arms at the same time. The unexpected change in altitude startles the cat and he wriggles his way out of Satan’s arms and onto the floor. You both watch as he leaves the room to find a more stable napping place.

Satan then looks at you expectantly.

You look back at him, then at the TBR pile growing on your desk, then at the large bookcase overflowing with books already. “You know what I think…” You look back at him, “I think you’re absolutely right. Let me just get changed.”

You shoo Satan out of your bedroom and change out of your house clothes in record time. When you emerge from your room, Satan presents his arm for you to hold. Who knew the devil would be such a gentleman?

As you leave your apartment, you call to your cat over your shoulder, “Be good.”

As you make your way to your favorite bookstore and café that’s a convenient walking distance from your apartment, you ask Satan, “Are you looking for some new human world reading material as well?”

“Well, that, and it’s just nice to get out of the house once in a while.” He looks up to the sky. The heavy gray clouds are less noticeable because of how dark it is but you know they’re still there.

You look up too, and say, “I hope it won’t rain on the one day I actually choose to leave the house.”

Satan smirks down at you. “Now, what are the odds of that happening right now?”

A roll of thunder sounds off in the distance and you stop dead in your tracks. Satan keeps walking but turns to face you when your arm leaves his.

“You had to jinx it didn’t you?”

His smile widens. “Do you think we’ll make it before it comes down?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “If I have to run, I’ll make you regret it.”

He steps up to you just as you feel the slightest drops of rain land on your nose. “I’d like to see how you would make me do that.”

A few more drops and you scowl venomously at him, his face only inches from yours.

“Humans…” He chuckles and takes off running when more drops settle around you and you take off after him, laughing.

You make it to the bookstore in one piece, albeit soaking wet. The familiar brown brick exterior is already warming you up before you’ve even set foot inside. A light tinkling of the bell in the doorway announces your presence in the shop and someone far inside friendly shouts, “Welcome!” as you cross the threshold. You pause for a moment just to take in the immaculate vibes of this place.

The brown brick of the exterior continues in the interior. Bookshelves line the walls and tower over you, some books are up so high, you wonder how anyone is supposed to get those books off the shelf. String lights drape across the ceiling and add a moody glow to the atmosphere. At the far end of the store is the espresso bar and café, with its mismatched bar stools and dangling exposed lightbulbs. All the furniture here is lovingly worn and there are innumerable cozy corners where you can pick up a book and cuddle up with a cup of coffee.

You take a deep breath and sigh, your mood stabilizing already. Satan takes your saturated jacket and hangs it on the coat rack by the door as you try to wring out the excess moisture in your hair. He walks further into the store — past you — and when you meet his eye, he winks. A gust of warm wind dries your clothes and hair instantaneously and your eyes widen as you look around to see if there’s anyone who might have noticed. Your panic subsides when you realize there aren’t many people here anyway and everyone who is here is too engrossed in what they’re doing to make a note of how a couple of strangers magically got dry.

Before he can get too far from you, you tug on Satan’s arm. He turns around to look at you questioningly.

“I just got a brilliant idea!” You meet his gaze with a wide smile. “What if we make it a game?”

“A game?”

“Yeah, we both go in and separate, looking for a book we think the other will enjoy. We’ll meet back up at the cafe and read our books and then we’ll determine the winner.”

“Hmmm…” Satan holds a finger to his chin in thought. “And what does the winner win, exactly?”

You can tell you've interested him. Now, you just have to reel him in. You mirror his thinking posture, finger-to-chin and everything. “Hmmm… Maybe whatever the winner wants, the loser will have to give to them?”

“Oh, MC, that sounds dangerous.” You catch a glimpse of something in his eyes as he smiles — maybe it's a warning?

You shrug nonchalantly. “I like a little danger.”

He bares his teeth in a wide grin. “May the best demon win, then.”

“Hey!” You shout after him as he winks and heads off into the store proper.

Oh, it's on.

Now, this bookstore is fairly large for being squished between two apartment buildings. It’s longer than it is wide and two stories, with most of the first floor dedicated to the café and spaces for lounging. The bookshelves on this floor house the newly published books. The second floor loft is a labyrinth of bookcases — covered wall to wall in books of all genres — with a dedicated children’s section in the back.

You think you saw Satan head upstairs, so you try your luck with the new books first. How do you pick a book for the demon who’s read everything? Well, you can start with books that have just come out.

You pass some new history books, but what good would that be when you are almost as old as time? New memoirs and biographies? There’s only one human life of interest to Satan and you haven’t written a book (yet).

You pick up a cookbook. That might be interesting. He likes to cook. But you don’t think you will win with a silly list of recipes, now matter how delicious they might be.

You look at the art books and poetry books but knowing how fast he goes through books they might only hold his attention for a short time. You need something good. You pick up a book called Books Make A Home: Elegant Ideas for Storing and Displaying Books and crack a smile. He might take this as a dig at how messy his room is. As hilarious as that might be, you don’t think you would win with that selection.

You finally look at new fiction. A thriller or mystery is more his speed anyway. But none of the covers or descriptions catch your attention. Maybe you should throw a curveball and get a romantic comedy? You pick one up that boasts a plot about the son of Lucifer trying to stop the apocalypse with a human woman and of course, they fall in love along the way. You quickly put it back and shudder at how Satan might react if you presented him with this book for your competition.

Time to switch tactics. Maybe you should go with a book that you have read before but haven’t shared with him yet? With no luck down stairs, you make your way to the second floor, still no sign of Satan. Good, you don't want him to see you empty handed with how long you have been here already.

You snake your way through the aisles, waiting for a book you recognize — or anything really — to jump out at you, catch your attention, and say, “This one right here will make Satan eat his words and admit defeat!”

You find yourself in the young adult section. It's near the back where the children's section is but it's still separated by a half-wall; an appropriate place, right between being a kid and an adult.

Ah yes, your teen angst days. You remember them well. You think about how Satan, in a way, has been going through his “teen angst” days for longer than you’ve even been alive. You wonder if he has ever read any of these kinds of books, or if he considers himself above that kind of thing, or maybe he’s “too old” for them.

You scan the shelves and your eye catches a title on one of the higher shelves. It's a beautiful but impractical arrangement of the shelves. They’re so tall that you would need to call a worker with a ladder to get to some. The one you spot, however, is juuust out of reach that you think you can get if you use the lower shelf as a step. You reach for it on your tippy toes but it barely brushes your fingers. You adjust again and try to reach— when a larger hand with green nail polish easily reaches for the very same book you were trying to grab.

You quickly turn and lose your balance, forgetting you stepped up onto the shelf to reach as far as you did. You surrender to gravity’s whims, but those same well-manicured hands grab you and steady you by the waist.

“MC-!” You end up being slightly dipped in Satan’s arms. He searches your face for any pain or discomfort but is quickly reassured when you burst out in laughter. Once he knows for certain you are alright, he steadies you back on your feet and picks up the book that started this, as it lay forgotten on the floor. He stares quizzically at the cartoon devil gracing the front cover before you snatch it from his hands and hold it behind your back.

“You weren’t supposed to see that yet.”

“Is that the book you chose for me?” There’s humor in his voice, he sounds almost incredulous.

“MAYBE.” You huff. “I haven’t made a commitment yet. I was still looking when you snuck up behind me!”

He smirks at you, not falling for your frantic deflection. “You looked like you could use a hand.”

“I’m certain I could have figured it out on my own.” You’re indignant and you're not sure why. Maybe because he was laughing at the book? You turn your back to him and look at the book you picked again. Was it silly to give him a kid’s book? “This book meant a lot to me when I first read it. It’s about a demon from hell getting a taste of human life. I learned a lot about life and myself from reading it, actually.”

If you were looking at Satan, you would see his face soften at the confession. He tilts his head to the side and rests his hand lightly on your shoulder. When you turn to look at him, he snakes his hand down your arm to hold your hand.

“I’m sorry.” He takes a step closer to you and brings your hand to his lips. “If you picked it out for me, I'm sure I'll enjoy it.”

You feel your face bloom with heat from the unexpectedly sweet gesture. He gives you a teasing smile when you still don’t say anything.

You look down, away from his almost smug expression, and focus on his hands. They’re empty. You look back up at him.

“Did you not find one yet?”

His expression doesn’t falter. “I left it at the register so we could pay together. I also got a few other things that interested me from downstairs.”

“Let’s get going then.” You grab his hand tight and pull him along.

You make your purchases downstairs and get something from the café. As you come back with both of your orders — one latte complete with kitty foam latte art and one caramel black milk tea — you find Satan sitting on a loveseat, reading the book you got him.

“You’ve already started??” You put the drinks down on the coffee table in front of you and nearly trip over the bag of your books to get to his side quicker.

“Careful, MC,” he grabs your arm to steady you on the couch. “How else are we going to determine who won?”

“No fair, you got a head start! And you know I don’t read as fast as you, Sa- Stan.” You catch yourself before you say his real name. You don’t think anyone’s paying attention — or really cares — but sometimes you get funny looks from strangers when you say that name in public. Satan cringes at the “nickname”. It bothers him to no end when you use it and that always tickles you.

“Well, MC,” he says pointedly, reaching for something in the bag of books. “That's why I chose something that was reasonable in length.”

The book he presents you is still easily over 100 pages in length but, compared to the other books he has recommended to you, this one actually is quite reasonable. You hold the book in your hands and consider it. You don’t have anywhere else to be. And this place stays open pretty late. You shrug, plop down next to Satan, and get to reading.

Hours pass and Satan easily gets thru the book you gave him and several others he picked up for himself. He even got up once to buy another one after he went through his whole stack. All while you’ve been engrossed in the read Satan picked out for you.

Line after line, page after page, chapter after chapter, you devour the book like it was made for you. If you didn't know any better, you would say it was enchanted, or that Satan did some funny business to the pages to make you keep reading — without stopping — until the very end. But you do know better, and you know that this book is just that good.

It's really late now but you don’t care. You’re loving every minute of this.

Until you get to the end.

You stare at those last few words at the bottom of the page. Your mind is racing. In your haste to get to the end, you skimmed and skimmed paragraph after paragraph to find those words you were desperate to see. You couldn’t believe it. That can’t be how it ends. You don't know how long you stare at those cruel letters but you definitely aren't reading them anymore.

You frantically flip to the beginning of the chapter and read through it again. Maybe you just missed something? Maybe it will be different this time. You hardly register the tears in your eyes before they blur your vision completely and you can no longer continue reading.

You shut the book and study the front cover through your tears. So innocuous. Who knew this damn book would break your heart so thoroughly? Your grief quickly transforms into rage, directed not at the characters, or even the author — but at the damned demon that recommended the book to you in the first place, who was thoroughly enjoying all your precious reactions while sitting calmly next to you.

You stand up and turn to him, without lifting your head. You look at the front cover one last time before you raise the book high in the air and throw it back to Satan as hard as you can. You’re not worried about hurting him — his reflexes are so fast, you’re sure he’ll be able to catch it. Besides, there are very few materials in all three realms that can cause serious harm to a demon — a paperback is not one of them.

Unsurprisingly, he catches it before it makes contact with his face. “Did you enjoy it?”

You look up in time to catch that smug grin plastered across his face.

“What… the FUCK?”

You take a step towards him, fists balled with rage at your sides. You’re getting ready to square up when he says, “We’re in public, dear. You don’t want to make a scene, do you?”

Despite his words, you can see in his eyes that he would really love for you to make a scene. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction but he’s already eating up your barely contained wrath. His easy smile never leaves his face, as if this was just one big joke to him.

That’s it.

You lunge for him, hands going straight for his neck. He catches those, too, of course, but with his hands occupied, he cant stop you from slamming your knee down on the cushion between his legs. Just a warning. That wipes the grin clean off his face. In fact, he looks almost impressed. He closes his legs around your knee to keep it from moving any closer.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?” Even though your no match for his strength, that doesn’t stop you from trying to get him — to what end, you aren’t sure. Do you actually want to hurt him or are you trying to release your frustrations in a very unproductive manner? These are the thoughts you would be having if your mind wasn’t blank with rage. “It can’t end like that. It fucking CAN’T!”

And the object of your frustrations is loving every minute of this. You’re sure he’s humoring you when you get awfully close to reaching his neck. “Careful, darling. If you don’t calm down, I might transform and then we’ll both be in trouble.” You can see that warning from earlier in the night flash again in his eyes, like he wants to get in trouble with you. The vibrant green is almost glowing like fire.

“How could you do that to me?!” You continue to struggle in his grasp. “How did you know how to hurt me so perfectly?”

You start to smell sulfur before you finally slump against him, absolutely spent. The burst of rage and the time of night have finally caught up you, the smell of sulfur fading with your energy. He releases your hands and they fall uselessly to his chest. You lay your head there, too.

“That was so fucked up.” You feel Satan’s chest rumble with a noise of agreement as he wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on the top of your head. You take a deep breath and let it out shakily, tears still flowing and staining his sweater.

“Did you like it?”

You let out a high-pitched, “Mmmhmmm”, not trusting your voice won’t crack if you try to speak again. Satan rubs your back.

You take another deep breath and say, “It was so good but so… sad at the end.” He holds you tighter.

“I know. If you don’t like how it ends, we can always write our own ending.” You lift your head from his chest and look at him. It's the same thing you suggested to him when he read that book that made him cry. You smile sadly at the memory. Looking into his eyes now, you find the hidden sadness, beneath the hot anger, beneath the cool mask that he wears. His eyes search your own. You wonder what he finds in them.

Finally, you say, “It’s the sad that makes it good.” He nods in agreement. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck. He laughs.

“I’m normal, I swear,” you say. “Can we just stay like this a little while longer?”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving for anything in all three realms.”

And you two are at peace.

Before the confused barista at the coffee bar comes over and says, “We’re gonna be closing in 10, so could y'all…?”

You shoot up immediately and wipe whatever tear stains from your face that remain. “Oh my gosh, we’re so sorry!”

You extricate yourself from Satan and pull him off the loveseat you were lounging on. You gather your things as Satan scowls at the poor barista. “It’s so late, I have to get home to my little boy.”

Satan looks back at you and smiles, knowing exactly who you’re talking about.

You scoot out the door, the bell above the door jingling one last time tonight, and make your way back to your apartment.

Once you are outside on the sidewalk, you slip your arm through his and say, “So, what did you think of the book I gave you?”

“It was… an interesting depiction of demons. I liked it, though it did feel a little preachy toward the end.”

“Soooo,” Your hand finds his and you entwine your fingers together. “Who won?”

“Well, let’s see, considering I didn’t cry and try to hurt you over how emotional I got over your book…”

“Alright, I get it, you don’t have to rub it in.”

Satan chuckles. “Winner gets whatever they want, remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Embarrassment floods your system and your cheeks feel warm. Why did you say that? Why did you think you would win? Hopefully, he’ll ask for something easy for you to give him.

“Don’t worry, MC.” Satan laughs again. “I got everything I wanted already.” He brings your entwined hands to his mouth and kisses your hand softly. You rest your head against his upper arm and play with his fingers with both of your hands.

“I saw you read a lot of other books in there. Any good ones?”

He proceeds to tell you all about the other books he got today, some were “absolute drivel” and others were “not too bad, actually”. But your favorite one was when he talked about a book about storing and displaying his books that will be “quite useful at home”.

You smiled to yourself.

You know your demons so well.

#obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me satan #obey me mc #satan x mc #satan x reader #satan fluff #originally posted on ao3 #jsyk all the books are real they are real and they can hurt you #op #fic

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marvelmusing · 1 year

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Some Sugar Daddy!Billy Russo Thoughts

A/N: Complete and utter fluff because I’m yearning for pretty things

I’m thinking about your closest friend Billy Russo, the rich and successful CEO of Anvil, who accidentally becomes your sugar daddy because his love language is gift giving and you’ve always been too shy to ask anyone for the expensive things you long for. But Billy knows you better than anyone.

Whenever you have a bad day, he’ll wrap his arms around you, pulling you into his lap to let you cry or vent against his chest.

He’s so glad that he’s the one that you go to when you feel like this. He hates the thought of you going home to your empty apartment in such a state.

When you’ve exhausted all your sadness and frustration, and all you need is something to cheer you up, he’ll press a kiss to your forehead, and tell you to pick out any website where you currently have a wish list. He then tells you he’s going to buy you everything on the list.

The first time it happens, you gape at him.

“But… that’s a lot.”

“S’the whole point baby.” He sighs when he sees your hesitant expression. “How about you show me everything you like, and tell me why you want them? Anything we don’t like anymore can get knocked off the list.”

You nod, appeased by this method.

Billy would buy you absolutely anything, even if you wanted ten pairs of the same shoe in only slightly different colours. If that’s what made you happy, then Billy was happy too.

But getting you to talk to him about all the pretty things you liked, and would look so good in once he’s bought them for you, always helps to distract you from your awful day.

He listens to you chatter about the different styles and shapes you like, and coo over the pretty colours and patterns as you look at the images of things you had forgotten about. He helps you discard a few items that look too similar to what you already own, or what’s already on your wish list.

Whenever you seem too agitated by a decision, Billy steps in and makes it for you. Usually just a casual remark like: ‘get the purple one baby, it matches the purse you’re getting’ or ‘get the boots, you’ll wear them more often’ that soon settles your mind.

When it comes to the checkout part of your treat he usually tries to stop you from seeing the overall price.

“Billy.” You whine quietly, trying to protest against him spending so much money.

Ten thousand, two hundred, and fifty five dollars. On shoes. And one bag. And a card holder - because Billy had said ‘you need somewhere to keep my card safe when you go out shopping, now don’t you?’

In response to your reluctance, he merely kisses you firmly on the temple as he rolls his hips in an attempt to reach into his trouser pocket for his wallet.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t worry her sweet little head over a big number like that.”

Billy makes sure they’re delivered to his place, because your apartment building doesn’t have an elevator, and he would hate for you to carry anything heavy up the stairs.

Your apartment is too small to house all the things Billy buys you, so he gives you one of the empty rooms at his place. Your own little sanctuary, filled with the things you’ve always wanted.

You always wait until Billy gets home before you open any packages that come for you. He insists that you don’t need to wait, but he does love watching you unwrap things.

He’ll sit down in his armchair, while you’re on the floor surrounded by designer boxes with shiny logos embossed onto the luxurious material. It always makes you feel that special glow in your chest, like it’s your birthday, and you deserve every bit of attention because it’s your day - even if it’s actually just a random Tuesday.

Billy loves seeing how excited you get. Half the time you’ve forgotten what you’ve ordered, and the look of elation when you open the boxes and see whatever you had been longing for inside them is priceless to Billy. He loves seeing you bright and happy as you gush over how pretty everything is.

One of Billy’s favourite sights is seeing you buried among a pile of boxes and tissue paper, your slippers discarded because you wanted to wear your new heels, which still fit despite the fluffy socks you’re wearing. A new scarf wrapped around your neck haphazardly, as you shuffle on your knees towards Billy to have him feel how soft your new jumper is.

When you’re finished, you’ll prop yourself up on your knees and nestle your body between his spread legs, curling your arms around his waist.

Billy taps the crown of your head with a delicate finger. Tilting your head back, you peer up at him from where your face has been hiding against his stomach.

“You feeling better now, princess?” He asks with a knowing look. You smile a little shyly, but nod. Lifting yourself up further, you press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Billy.”

#billy russo #sugar daddy!billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo au #billy russo x female reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x you

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slasher-male-wife · 2 years

Note

I've been having some bad days lately, so I was wondering if you could maybe write something about Michael Myers s/o coming home upset so he just lets them cling to him as much as they want. Staying with them until they finally fall asleep on him

Of course I can do this. I've been busy with writing the Halloween event stuff so I'm glad to be back to writing stuff for y'all to read. I honestly don't know what's been really happening with me lately. I just feel really weird and I honestly might be going through a dissosiative episode. I'm getting help for this don't worry I just know how rough things can be. Michael might be a little ooc but I tired to write him from a little bit of a different perspective I guess. But I hope this makes you feel better.

Cling: Michael Myers x gn reader

Warnings: Bit of strong language

You're making the walk back home from a late night at work. Your shifts aren't terribly long, only seven hours. But the work is draining. It's getting you closer to your dream job but still having to deal with loud, rude customers who don't understand that you're only one person not some machine that can make everything perfectly. You don't have any friends to really hang out with either. No one to vent to at all. Everything has just been feeling so very off to you.

Your brain is fogged and your body is bone tired. You need rest and you know that. But it always seems like something has to be done before it grows into a bigger problem. Why does everything have to move so fucking fast. Why can't you enjoy things anymore? Everything is a mess on top of all the world events you need to keep on top of too. Finally you reach your house.

You open your front door and turn on the light. You shut the door and kick off your shoes, "I'm home Michael," You call out, walking into the living room. He's doing his normal thing just sitting and staring off into space, "Hey Mikey." You take a seat next to him on the couch and rest your head on his shoulder. You let out a sigh and shut your eyes. So much pressure has been building up in your life and it's getting to be unbearable.

You just want a break. One day off to finally relax. But you know just because it's Friday doesn't mean that there won't be anymore things to do tomorrow as well. You fight back tears but they're still forming in your eyes. You're tired. Mentally and physically. You need rest but you can't get that with Michael. The most he'll do is what he's doing now, letting you rest your head against his shoulder. Your arms feel to heavy to lift so you let the tears start to fall. You break into a quiet sob, barely moving. Even crying feels taxing to you.

Michael's arm shifts and you sit up, opening your eyes and wiping away the tears, "I'm sorry Michael. I should go upstairs now," Before you can get up Michael's arm is wrapped around you and he's pulling you closer to him. You hear him sigh a little, almost like he doesn't want to be doing this. But you know that nobody can force Michael to do anything he doesn't want to do. He's holding you now because some part of his brain is pushing away the violent thoughts and telling him to hold his god damn s/o. Small tears return as you lead into him more, "Thank you Michael. I'll get to bed in a few minutes I just need to rest a little first." You say slowly turning into mumbles.

Michael keeps his arm wrapped around you as you quickly fall asleep against him. He doesn't mind sitting like this for a few hours. Most of his time in Smiths Grove was spent staring at walls. He likes the warm feeling of your body against his. He's never really felt warmth before he met you. He somewhat enjoyed the hugs you gave him before. Some softer part of him somewhere in his mind. He rarely hugs back of course, but sometimes that soft part gets big enough to where he can weakly wrap his arms around you too. But he doesn't mind sitting here like he was before. Only now he has something better, something warm.

#michael myers #michael myers x y/n #michael myers x you #michael myers fluff #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader

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kapapi-o · 1 year

Text

Heaven Sent pt. 3

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Previous parts: Part 1 and part 2.

Not proofread, oop [1.8k words]

des: A third addition to my ongoing FemReader x Cyno brothel series.

warnings: light drug usage, brief violence, and choking (#notkinky ofc).

Don't worry y'all! it's not as heavy as it looks. This series will have a good ending :))

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Before he could stand up and blast his friend for being tardy, the general had already entered, and the air around him was far from pleasant. So, he decided to cast aside his previous words of banter in favor of the matter at hand.

"You're later than our scheduled time, did something come up? How is she?" He queried and was glad to have assessed him earlier. There was certainly malice, with an aura that only matched the one that led the Mahamatra.

An aggression to unjust acts.

"Nari,” he spoke, voice laced in apprehension. “I feel sick to my core."

He says, clearly upset as he sat himself at a round table in the room, folding his arms as he did. Upon hearing that bit from him, Tighnari's ears knowingly laid flat on his head —there was no medicine he could concoct that would remedy this. A simple hearing’s out would usually suffice, but this was no ordinary occasion as a friend needing to vent.

He sat across him, ready for a debriefing of the operation and more importantly, the root of his friend’s anguish.

"Today, I gave her the orbs that you made for me."

"And?"

"She will do it, the task. But I can't shake the feeling that if…if only I…" Cyno halts, ashamed to say the next chain of his thoughts. Luckily, there was a botanist that could, and it made him cringe to see the general at a loss in his convictions. He grumbled at the sight,

"If only what? You could do better?" Without meaning to, he tsk' at the poor fellow in front of him. This was no time for self pity.

The fennec man sighs, rubbing his temple with his fingers before glancing back at his friend. It’s been a long day for the both of them, and so, he advises the obvious to him,

"Stop being harsh on yourself, Cy." Tighnari leans into the table, trying to beckon the man in front of him to reason.

"Now that you know what you have to do, it makes no sense to mope about it."

"I understand that much.” Cyno replies, though his expression suggested his feelings remained. “It’s just that I can't help thinking that this could have been prevented…"

Tighnari raises his brow, "What could've been prevented?"

"Any of this."

For once he remains silent because it’s true. There were obviously variables that were within the Mahamatra’s control, but sometimes, just sometimes, it so happens to slip past them at a blink of a moment. In the end, there’s just some things that can’t be prevented, even if he tried. That’s just the truth.

Now how could he convey that to someone as upright as Cyno?

Perhaps not…

Even so—There is still hope to right what’s been wronged.

Tighnari recalls the times Cyno had mentioned her, the woman in the brothel. The fennec man figured that she's the hope in this equation, well, more so in his equation with how the general openly fretted.

"Are you worried about her?"

"I am but…not as much as I was expecting to be.” Very slightly, Tighnari notices the change in the air from the way he spoke of her just as he always has from previous rendezvous.

“She's strong."

Cyno’s body finally relaxed after relentlessly sitting firm and uptight in his seat. Allowing his back to lay on the backrest, his gaze expressed that his mind was somewhere else, far away. As eager as the botanist is, he chose to withhold his own curious observations of him for another time.

For now, it'd be best to just let themselves ease up after an eventful day. Tomorrow brings a new set of challenges.

“Let’s believe in her then, for all our sakes.” Cyno hummed in agreement and sighed at the moon.

The following evening, everything had been set in motion. You had personally asked the women working tonight’s shift to leave the target be, so that he could be locked on you alone, –and sure enough, he came by.

He bore a seemingly plain looking face. A smile from him would be as inviting and hospitable as any vendor on main street, no one would be the wiser to know that he comes to a place like this when night falls, or that he would be the culprit to many heinous things in the deep underground of the desert. Not that you needed Cyno’s information to know that he’s scum. But if you were still somehow not sold, then that smug grin and cockish air to him would’ve done it for you. For now, that attitude is welcomed. You knew right away how to get this type of person under your will.

“A drink, my lord?” You kneeled to his side, offering the drugged chalice with lidded eyes that looked through your lashes. The man above you snickered, enjoying your ignorance.

“I’m no lord, my dear.” He passed a dark chuckle that made your skin crawl. “Just a man with heavy pockets.”

At plenty of others’ disposal. You wanted to say, regret becoming you for not spitting in his drink.

Fortunately, that did not last long because with all guard down, this gullish man took it and chugged it in a gulp.

With his average body, the drug was taking effect by how his eyes started to daze.

Here’s my cue.

Instantaneously, you feigned being flustered by glancing away. Tucking the strands of hair that escaped behind your ear, showing off your prettily blushed cheeks as you do.

“Ah…I’m sorry, sire…I noticed the quality of your clothes and assumed so,” you lean in, pressing a gentle hand on his thigh and your warm perfumed breath hits his neck,

“H-how could you know…the wi..ser? Hah..a..sit with me.” His words slurred as he struggled to stay awake.

“Of course, sire.”

A few teasing touches later and he was dragging you to a room, but not just any room, though. It was a room furthest from the main hall so noise wouldn’t be heard, and a wide window showcasing the waste land. Perfect for anyone to just climb into and abduct someone. Honestly, you had to pat yourself on the back for getting this room all to yourself at short notice.

The job wasn’t done just yet though. You still had a bumbling bastard to deal with. He was almost out of it, so you coaxed him to rest his head on your lap. Once you heard heavy snoring rolling in, you pinched his cheek just a bit to check if he was truly asleep. When all you got in response was an increased volume of snoring, you dropped your infatuated facade and shoved his head off your lap.

You grabbed a wet cloth from the corner of the room and wiped the areas he made contact with, then threw it at his face. You then hang up the green colored shawl, signaling to Cyno’s aids hiding nearby that the target is ripe for the taking.

As you waited for minutes but it felt like hours, a shrill scream broke from the quiet ambiance and echoed down to your room. It startled you to say the least, but your uneasiness didn't subside because the scream had evolved to shouting.

Carefully, you moved to the locked door and pressed an ear to it. From what you've gathered of muffled voices, it seems to be a one-sided argument between the Madam and a client.

You sigh, there was nothing to worry about after all.

"Y-you…ungrateful wench...!" Your breath got caught in your throat as the horror of the man's hand on your ankle gripped you to the point of pain. Out of instinct, you kicked his nose with all your might, a small crack and pained groan emitted from him, and momentarily released you to hold the injured area.

You dash to the corner of the room where you tucked your things as the man crawled to you on his forearms, his lower body likely still numb from the drug.

"Y-you did something, didn't you?!" He manages to lunge for your leg and knock you down to the ground with him.

You can't scream for help. Whether that be the fact that if you did, you'd be as good as dead once the man tells her what you did, or the fact that it would be fruitless to cause no one would be able to hear you. Not when you purposefully picked the furthest room, and especially not when there was loud arguing going on.

So, you had to fight for your own. Continuously kicking your other leg to his face. Hoping to buy you time.

But for what?

How long will it take for them to show up?

Like always, and for many times more, no one will help you.

You were doomed from the start.

No.

Your mind spared a moment of clarity in the midst of all the negativity clouding it, and in that split second, a chance was thought of.

Your hand dived for something tucked in your things. Your hand searched and searched while your heart beat fights with panic. The man is up to your waist now, clawing at you until finally, your fingers brush against that familiar material. You grasp the orbs and pull it out from the sack.

I'm not helpless now.

With the orbs in the tight of your hand, you reach for the green cloth that hangs at the window and wrap it at the man's neck, tightening it in a chokehold. The man instinctively places his hands at the cloth, trying to pull away from the sudden loss of air.

Taking advantage of the moment, you knee him at his stomach, weakening him enough to roll yourself atop of him.

You then release the cloth briefly for him to gasp for air, –and only for your hand to shove the orbs in his mouth. You clasp onto his mouth with every bit of adrenaline strength granted you.

He, however, fought to swallow them so you quickly knee him in the middle where it's little. He winces and tries to gasp at the pain contracting his abdomen, but he ultimately intakes the drug. You release his mouth from your grip and he urgently coughs in between his gasps for air. He knocked on the floor harshly as his body once again tingled into numbness.

He tries to get up again, but with the lingering numbness from earlier still in effect, and the fresh dosage he just had, he succumbed to another slumber.

You push him away from you and back yourself to the corner, trying for the life of you to calm down your own adrenaline. No matter the method, you failed to compose as your breaths were still coming in like waves. While you did, your mind was replaying the moments fresh of passing.

Your eyes solely on the unconscious man in front of you.

In fact, you were so focused on him that you hadn't noticed the hooded figure sitting at your window, who also witnessed the last minute of your ordeal.

"You handled that pretty well." Another voice spoke suddenly into the room.

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A/N- To the folks that come back to this, thank you for your patience :)) (u guys help me fight my commitment issues <3).

There was def a lack of cyno w/ reader here but fret not, it'll all be made up for in the next part.

With loves, Kapi<33

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#cyno #cyno x reader #cyno x fem!reader #rescue #brothel au #genshin #sumeru #genshin impact #wholesome #y/n #y/n x cyno #evil men #cliffhanger

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crymeariveronceagain · 2 years

Note

I’m going to put this here under the assumption that you’re okay with receiving vents. If not, I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding and please ignore this ask. I hope you’re doing well either way.

(Very heavy vent below, once again do not read if you’re not comfortable. Put yourself first, please!)

Vent start: I don’t know what to do. That’s the summary of it. I just don’t know. I want to be okay and normal and healthy so much, but I just can’t. So often I hear “you’re not alone!” And “There are so many other people like you out there!” And I believe it but I just can’t seem to find them. Every person I’ve spoken to cannot relate to me, and if they can relate to me at all it’s with one of my most surface-level issues, and it just makes me feel more alone than before. I’ve been suicidal for years and years now. I have ocd, autism, adhd, sensory processing disorder, insomnia, and severe general and social anxiety along with severe depression. (These are professionally diagnosed.) I am 16 years old. I feel like I’ve been alive for centuries. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like a kid, even when I was a small child. I can’t even imagine what it feels like to be joyful because my entire life has been this endless cycle of stress and misery and there’s not a thing I can do about it. I’m not good at anything, I can barely even exist in the moment without dissociating. None of the doctors I’ve spoken to care about me, I am tearing my family apart because of what a bad state I’m in. I just want the people I care about to be happy, but I cannot even achieve that because the biggest obstacle in the way of their happiness is me.

Vent’s over now.

In other news, you are very good at writing and I admire your work, and how you are able to release it so quickly. Please take care of yourself, and I wish you well (whether or not you chose to read the vent.) <3

hoooooooooo boy that's a vent, but love, I'm glad you went somewhere with it. That's a lot. It sounds horrible to deal with. Like, every bit of what you described I would collapse instantly under. Pass out and die immediately. Just, sheer emotional crunch.

You are infinitely stronger than I am. You are far more powerful, more impressive, and amazing than i could ever be.

I'm so sorry no one can relate to you. That is one of the worst feelings. Ever. Human beings want to be recognized, seen, noticed, and understood. I believe it is also the human condition that as much as we want to be understood, no one ever perfectly does. It burns, hurts, stings. Aches.

And you're right, I can't relate to your struggles either. I wish I could. Honestly. Like, I know it's selfish, but I really wish I had more mental problems just so I could relate to people who go through this kind of thing.

As far as the suicidal thoughts go, what my advice there is: I love you. Hang on for me. The world is so much better with you in it. You might not be able to see how, but I see it. Someone's gonna read this post and think, stars, there's someone out there like me. And you, in this moment, are the hope for another person. You are hope, beloved. Keep being hope. Keep going.

Everything else, I'm sure you've heard every advice on the planet, there's not going to be much I can add to it. Like, everything you're going through? It's awful. It's hard. Nothing I say can make it better, because it... it's out of the reach of words.

Words can't make it better.

There are things words can't change. This is one of them.

But, all I can offer is that you are far stronger than I've ever been, or ever will be. You are the hope for every person dealing with what feels overwhelming. You are the strength people need to see in the world.

Because it takes a lot of strength, keeping going. It takes so much work. I know it has to.

Also, honestly, doctors piss me off <3. I hope you find better ones. You deserve better ones. People should care about you. I care about you.

And. For the record.

You are not an obstacle to anyone's happiness. That's a lie your brain is desperately trying to convince you of. But it isn't true.

People's happiness does not depend on you. You are outside of them. They control their own emotions. They are responsible for themselves. They are in charge of their own wellbeing. Joy is a choice. Happiness is an emotion, chemicals in the brain. Joy is a conscious choice. Like, seriously. There are things that people get wrong in this world, and one of them is that every emotion is just feeling. Like, Love is willing the good of the other. That's not a feeling, that's a choice. Joy is a choice to focus on what's good, to strive to just keep going.

So, darling, dearest, beloved anon.

You, my dear, are hope. You are strength. You are power. You may not feel like it. In fact, you probably feel like the opposite, most of the time.

But you give me hope. Because if you can do it, I can too.

If you are brave enough to keep on going.

Stars, the rest of us can only keep going on in awe of you.

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myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants · 3 years

Text

A/N: I would like to preface this by letting everyone know that I am in no way knowledgeable about actual science things. That being said I am amazed that in a random draw I actually managed to get a prompt that had to do with flowers lol. This is my contribution to the BakuHarem Collab! Please take a second to check out the other contributions here!

Warning: bad science, no protection, swearing, overs!mulation, accidental exhibti0som, intoxicated smut? idk sex pollen is a drug i guess.....

W/C: 3.5k

“Bakugou, dude. We should not-”

“Shut up Kirishima!” Bakugou walks through the sterile hallways checking every corner for signs of other people. “That bitch took my top spot with some bullshit flowers?!” He finally gets to the lab that was granted to you for your research. After winning first place, stealing first place in the UA university science expo. He walks into the observing lobby, looking through the large window to make sure you weren’t working in the lab after hours.

“Just keep quiet and listen for any one coming this way.” He walks over to the security door and holds his key card up to it, the light on the scanner turns green and he hears the dead bolt slide open.

Kirishima is lingering behind him, hovering in the doorway. He turns to Bakugou to talk him out of this again but his friend has already entered the lab. “Ahh geez.” He didn’t even wear any safety gear.

As the door clicks shut behind him, Bakugou stops to examine the lab. Several different species of flowers in full bloom behind temperature controlled enclosures. Some of them are recognizable; lavender, chamomile, and jasmine. “I thought it would smell like the perfume department, this fuckin place smells like heaven.” Guess it wasn’t a new shampoo she was using then.

He walks through the aisles turning his head this way and that, trying to find something, anything that he can fuck up without it being overtly obvious. He gets to the back corner of the lab and sees a piece of familiar equipment. “Perfect.”

*****

“He said WHAT?!”

Your roommate flinches at your reaction to her news. “He told Professor Aizawa that your ‘Viagra flowers’ are a joke to the science department and they should ‘wither and die’.”

You’re fuming. That fuck tard Bakugou, mister my shit don’t stink is ridiculing my research? “All that man knows is how to blow shit up! Just cause I beat him in the expo this year, he thinks my research is a joke?!” You stand up from the couch, pacing in front of it and you can’t decide whether to scream or cry. “Why did I ever like that twat?”

Cause he has wide shoulders, big hands and scarlet eyes that -

“Oh for the love of god shut up.” Screw your inner thoughts.

Ochako watches you pace, worrying in her eyes when yours line with silver and your neck flushes bright red. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that.”

You stop moving and look at her, guilt flooding through you as she slumps forward. “Don’t apologize, I was talkin to myself babe.” She nods her head weakly and you stand up straight “I’m gonna go.” You walk to the door grabbing your coat and key card.

“W-where are you going?” Ochako follows you to the door and grabs your wrist gently. You turn to her and smile, she was always so sweet but you knew that if shit went down she would be right beside you, kicking ass.

“I need to blow off some steam, so I’m gonna go check on my ‘Viagra flowers’.” She huffs a laugh and let's go.

“Alright, don’t stay too late.”

You nod, put on your shoes and leave the dorm. It’s a bit of a walk to the building the lab is in and hopefully the cool breeze will calm your mind.

*****

As you walk into the building you are grateful that your professor is more of a night owl than most students. Considering how many naps he takes during lectures it is no wonder he can’t sleep at night. You contemplate going to his office to say hi but think better of it.

Don’t wanna end up venting about Bakugou to my professor of all people.

You walk down the hallway and notice the door to your lab is cracked. Not unusual, a lot of students from your class have been coming and going to see the different species of flowers and plants you are growing. Assuming someone didn’t shut the door behind them you take your phone out of your pocket to check the time. Out of the corner of your vision a quick flash of red and you walk right into Kirishima, Bakugou’s friend and one of your classmates.

“Hey! How- how's it goin?”

You take a step back, rubbing your nose from face planting into his giant chest. Does this guy eat boulders for breakfast? “Hey Kiri! Just gonna do some late night tests! You checkin out my garden?”

“Yeah! Flowers are pretty.” He laughs, it’s high pitched and obviously forced.

You take in his nervous appearance, the fact that he is still standing in front of the door and your mood sours.

“Where is he?”

Kirishima looks like he is gonna try and stall but one look at the fury in your eyes and his head hangs down. “He’s in the lab,” you rush past him and punch in the code to open the door. “I tried to talk him out of it!”

The door clicks shut and the spiky blonde huffs in annoyance somewhere in the back of the lab.

“I told you shitty hair, if you’re gonna keep a look out you have to stand outside.”

You clear your throat and his head shoots up. You walk over to him, taking note of all of the plants and equipment, taking note of anything that looks different. As you get closer to him you notice that he smells particularly good tonight.

Keep it in your pants idiot

“Really Bakugou?” You stop a few steps away from him, noticing the various disassembled parts on the counter top behind him. “What were you gonna do, break my extraction equipment and make it look like a malfunction? Are you a B-Movie villain?”

He stands up and you are reminded of how small you feel next to him, wide shoulders, arms barely fitting the t-shirt he was wearing, strong chest that tapers to a toned waist. He laughs and you look at his face. What I wouldn’t give to just lick from your navel to your neck.

“A B-Movie villain huh? That’s rich coming from the fanfiction cliché scientist.” He crosses his arms, your eyes quickly dart to the sight of his biceps flexing with the movement then back at him.

“Fanfiction cliché? What the actual fuck are you talking about?” You take another step towards him, softly inhaling his scent. Why does he smell so good?

He laughs at you again, the sound caresses your skin and you realize your feeling very, very hot. You drag your fingers through your hair, your eyes zeroing in on a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. When you lick your lips and shift to take another step closer a small part of your brain connects the dots. “What. Did. You. Do?”

Bakugou looks at you, noticing your flushed cheeks and eyes that show you aren’t quite your normal smart and sexy self. Reaching behind himself you hear the unmistakable sound of clinking glass, he grabs a beaker, an open beaker. “Just grabbed this from your equipment, I know how long it takes to extract this stuff. Would suck if it were to suddenly go missing.”

“You idiot! Do you know how potent it is in that form?!” You reach for it but he pulls the beaker out of your reach. “Why do you think I keep it enclosed? You have to close it up now!”

“Why should I?”

Honestly how stupid can this guy get?!

“Put it back in the enclosure first and I’ll explain it to you!” Your breathing is getting heavy, the closer you get to Bakugou the hotter your body feels. You lunge for him again and trip, he hurries to put the beaker on the table behind him and catch you. Put off balance from the position you both crash to the floor with him underneath you. Sighing in frustration you lift yourself up only to bump your head on the table, knocking over the beaker and spilling the extract over you both.

“Shit!” You scramble off of him and run to the door, pressing the exposure button and effectively locking it. You turn to Bakugou and back up trying your best to keep your distance. “Stay on that side of the room, if we’re far enough apart the effects won’t be as bad.”

“What are the effects?” The question is spoken so calmly that you almost convince yourself he didn’t speak at all.

“What are the fucking side effects!?” His shirt is soaked, sticking to his tanned skin. The outline of his chiseled body makes your mouth go dry. You look back at his face, his mouth twisted in frustration at your silence but no less attractive. The sharp angle of his jawline, pink lips slightly chapped, aristocratic nose, scarlet eyes that-

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Shaking your head to clear some of the fog in your brain, you focus on him again.

“It’s an aphrodisiac so obviously it enhances sexual desire.”

“Yeah-yeah, sex pollen I get it. But what else?” he rings out the bottom of his shirt, lifting it slightly and you avert your eyes.

“It is not sex pollen, I don’t even use the pollen of the plant.” the last part coming out in a mumble. “The aphrodisiac only works on people who are consenting adults that are attracted to each other.” You clear your throat.

Bakugou freezes for a moment and looks up at you, examining you. The flushed skin, short breaths, and how you keep as much distance between the two of you as the small lab provides.

“So why are you so far away then?” The smirk on his face is sinful as all hell.

Cheeky bastard.

“Surely I don’t have to spell it out for you.” Resisting the urge to turn your face away from him like a pouty child..

“HA!” The smug look on his face momentarily lifts the cloud of lust and replaces it with anger. “Of course you’re attracted to me, who wouldn’t be?”

“Well, aren't you a cocky bastard?” Hoping you're not about to embarrass yourself you take a chance and muster up some courage. Slowly walking up to him you notice that his forehead is glistening with sweat, his breathing heavy, ears and back of his neck flushed with pink. “Tell me, Katsuki. How are you feeling?”

A few steps and you can see his hands balled up in white knuckled fists, a few more his jaw clench and unclench. Once you are only an arms length away you can see him swallow harshly, Adam's apple bobbing, nostrils flaring. You push your breasts against his toned chest, the light friction causing a moan to escape your mouth, the sound going straight to his cock.

“I’m - I’m fine.” Bakugou clears his throat, the sound of his first name from your lips sweeter than it should be.

“Lookin a little flushed, you feeling hot?”

He doesn’t answer, his attention captured by the closeness of your body, your lips, the tops of your breasts peeking out of the v neck top you’re wearing.. He stops breathing when your tongue flicks out to lick your bottom lip.

“Cat got your tongue?”

On impulse his hands move to rest on your hips, eyes never leaving your lips. “What was the question again?”

“How. Are. You. Feeling.” you walk your fingers up his chest with each word before pulling his head down so you can whisper in his ear, the anger fading fast. “Katsuki.” You hear him growl, the sound reverberating through your core, then you're being picked up.

“I’m gonna ruin you.” Bakugou crashes his lips to yours, pressing you up against one of the walls and bracing you with one hand so that the other can wrap around your throat. “Fuck, you drive me crazy.” He bites your lip, licking it to soothe the hurt. “Smart, funny, sexy, beautiful.”

You whine at the words and grind against the bulge in his pants, your pussy throbbing with need. “Need to feel you touch me Bakugou.” He stops moving and you shift to try and grind against him again but he holds you tight, slightly squeezing the sides of your neck.

“What happened to calling me by my first name, baby girl?” Loosening his hand and crouching down as if to put you down you sputter out “Kat-Katsuki Please touch me.”

The feral grin on his face has your pussy drooling and you all but sigh in relief when he stands up straight and slips a hand under your shirt, cupping one of your breasts. “Oh god yes.”

“You’re so soft baby,” he pulls one of the cups down and rolls your nipple in between his fingers. “Take off your shirt, wanna see those pretty tits.”

Katsuki keeps playing with your nipple when you rip your shirt off, making short work of your bra and tossing it. As soon as the other nipple is in view he dives down to suckle it, his mouth hot. You throw your head back, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pushing your chest out to give him better access.

He is merciless in his teasing, alternating between breasts, making sure to suck each nipple till they are both hard peaks. Kissing the top of your soft globes, your collarbone and neck, everywhere his mouth goes is left with a mark in varying shades of red and purple.

You grow impatient with him, needing to make him feel as good wanting to feel him with your hands, mouth, teeth.

“Wanna feel you too Katsuki.” you whine as he pinches one nipple while nibbling the other one. When you pull on his hair a little he groans but lifts his head, pulling both nipples with him before letting them go.

“What do ya wanna feel, baby girl?”

With all your inhibitions throw out the window you lean down and whisper in his ear. “Wanna feel you fuck me.”

You pull away and he quickly sets you down, you’re about to object when he takes his shirt off in one smooth motion then starts unbuttoning his jeans. You rush to follow, unzipping your pants and pulling them down, before you can pull down your panties he grabs your hand stopping you. “Leave ‘m on.”

Katsuki picks you up again before you can get a good look at his cock, but when it's pressed against you there is no need to see it. “Fuck you’re huge.”

He smirks at you, smug pride in his eyes. “Glad you approve.” Reaching a hand down he pulls your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your wet folds. “This all for me?” bringing his fingers up to show you the slick dripping down them he puts them in his mouth and sucks. “Gonna have to enjoy that tasty treat later.”

Your body is burning up, breathing is heavy as you both watch him drag his cock along your wet slit before pushing in. Your moans echo in the lab and neither one of you cares as Katsuki's cock drags against your inner walls until bottoming out. Right now is not the time for slow strokes, not with the aphrodisiac flowing through both of your bodies, so he starts a pace that has your ass slapping against his thighs.

“C-cumming!” You scream out before your body bows in on itself and you're creaming around his cock.

“Already?” a sideways grin on his face Katsuki starts moving you up and down in time with his thrusts, his cock reaching that much deeper. “Gonna cum for me again? Come on baby, wanna feel you milk my cock.”

Your mind is going blank, the only thing running through it is Katsuki. “Please don’t stop,” you dig your nails into his shoulders. “M Gonna cum again.” His thrusts go shallow and the head of his cock drags against your walls, hitting all the right spots.

You’re repeating his name endlessly, the only word that is in your mind then you’re cumming again. Your legs tense around his waist and your pussy clenches down hard enough that he has to stop moving or risk hurting you. He watches your face contorted in pleasure and starts thrusting as soon as he feels your orgasm subside.

“One more.”

Your head fuzzy, body limp from two orgasms. “I can’t!”

“Wrong,” Katsuki pulls out for a second, setting you on the floor and pushing on your back. You obediently bend forward grabbing the edge of the counter top and he wastes no time in rutting back into you. “You want me to stop?”

“NO”

“Then you got one more beautiful thing.” He sticks two fingers in his mouth, getting them wet then reaches around rubbing soft circles on your puffy clit. His other hand gripping your hip, before moving up and grabbing your shoulder using it as leverage to fuck into you harder.

“Come on, cum for me.”

You turn your head to the side trying your best to look in his eyes, yours tearing up at the overstimulation. “You cum too, fill me up Katsuki.”

“Oh fuck yeah.” Bending his knees he thrusts up into you and with the new angle, teasing circles being rubbed on your clit and the feral moans coming out of his mouth you cum one last time.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck

Katsuki cums after you, rope after rope of cum coating your fluttering walls.

You both stand there catching your breath. Katsuki pulls out and you whimper, “Oh don’t worry beautiful,” he picks you up again, walks over to a chair and sits down with you in his lap “not done with you yet.”

By the time you are spent both of you are exhausted and lost track of how many times either of you came. He helps you stand up, quickly pulling your panties back in place. “Don’t want you leakin.”

You giggle and pick up your clothes from the floor, he helps you get dressed and you both walk to the door. Making sure to check the air quality before leaving the lab you confirm that nothing is left in the air and unlock it. Before opening the door you turn to him opening your mouth to ask a question but he talks first.

“Let's go back to my room, yeah? I’ll help you clean up.” His voice rough from moaning and growling but you can see a small smile on his lips. Even though you know that the effects of the extract have worn off you can’t help but worry that he is still under their influence. Nodding your head you turn away from him again and open the door, walking into the lobby.

“I assume you're finished with the lab?”

You stop dead in your tracks, Katsuki bumping into you. “P-professor Aizawa?” Red hair peeks out behind him and Kirishima looks at you both with a nervous sharp toothed smile and red face. The fog of your memory clears and you vaguely remember hearing knocking on the window and door while you were… indisposed.

Katsuki steps in front of you, from the lack of red on his face or neck you know he isn’t nearly as mortified as you. “How long have you been standing there?”

The tired eyes of your teacher examine both of you. “Long enough.” He sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are both to meet me in my office tomorrow morning.”

And just before you can’t get anymore embarrassed he walks out and says over his shoulder. “The labs aren’t sound proof, and these walls echo.”

@doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam @sugarspiceanddynamight

#bnharem collab #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugo mha #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x you #lilliths masterlist #lillith writes

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jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav · 3 years

Note

what random hyperfixation aside from their cannon interests do u think the obey me brothers would have? like i could totally see satan be one of those people that is super into fragrance and knows what every single note smells like or beel being very informed about brand marketing lol

The idea of Satan being like every fanfic character and being able to pick out all sorts of smells from anything is hysterical lmao

I’m only at, like, lesson 39, so if this is either disproven or comes up as canon in the later lessons, Oops. So some of these will be more random/Vibe based, and some might have some justification I pull from canon like aspects of the characters’ personalities or canon interests bc, well, even when extrapolating/taking a canon character and saying “mine now”, I tend to like to refer to the source material.

So without further ado!

Random Hyperfixations/Interests the Brothers Have (At Least, According To Me)

Lucifer

Birding

No, not birdwatching

Birding

What is birding, you ask? Well it’s basically birdwatching but much more meticulous and aggressive

Birdwatchers tend to just kinda chill somewhere or set up a bird feeder and admire whatever shows up, maybe look up some local birds to better identify them when they see them

Birders(?) are like mf Pokemon trainers: Gotta Spot Them All! Birdwatching is a much more active hobby for them, they will literally drive out a couple hours just to see a bird they’ve never seen before and record it

I think this fits Lucifer because he is absolutely the kind of person who would try birdwatching and get super competitive about it

(No shade to birding, I just find it really funny that there’s a name for what is basically “INTENSE BIRDWATCHING”)

Anyway, Lucifer has probably been responsible for several discoveries of new bird species in the Devildom, and is well-known amongst ornithologists, who may or may not stalk him on his bird-ventures because the odds of him finding something new and exciting are quite high

Mammon

Idk why exactly but I feel like he’d be big into drumming? Most kinds of percussion, really

There’s something really tactile and stimmy about a drum set that I think Mammon would appreciate

I don’t know a lot about the technique of drumming, but I love a good beat, and rhythm is the foundation of music

Plus he could totally do streams and take (paid) requests every now and then

But mostly I think this would be something he just does himself

To relax, to have fun, to vent out any pent up Feelings

His drums are kept in a separate music room that is magically soundproofed tho because he has a tendency to get the urge to play at odd hours

And that has caused Problems in the House in the past

Leviathan

Okay, we all know Levi is into collecting, especially fandom merch and the like

But I think he’s also into Swords

Don’t get me wrong, he probably has some decorative and/or nerdy swords

But I do also mean like Actual Historical and Modern Swords

Cursed swords, enchanted swords, ordinary swords that are just Really Cool looking or have an interesting history behind them…

He can’t display them all at once, but he has a comprehensive organization system for them as well as a giant binder with all the information about them

A lot of his finds come from his underwater explorations of Devildom and human world seas and oceans

Like Lucifer, he’s got professionals who occasionally stalk him because of this

But they’re gonna have to be faster than him at actually finding the weapons bc once he’s got it in his sights, he’s not exactly keen on letting someone else take it

The Devildom Royal Museum has been in deep negotiations with him for centuries about displaying parts of his collection in personal exhibits but he’s been pretty stubborn

It’s not fair, he’s the one who found them, why do they get to take them away?!

However, as space becomes increasingly limited, Levi might have to concede some ground...

Satan

Straight up amateur archeology/whatever the Devildom equivalent of urban exploration would be

Satan’s a huge nerd, so it stands to reason that he’d be into visiting old ruins in the Devildom and see if he can find anything interesting

Archeology is basically like uncovering the mysteries of the past, and he’s big into detective stuff already

He probably finds the research afterwards just as interesting too

He has definitely let his grades slip a bit while following up on a particularly promising trip

Unlike Levi, if he finds something of value/interest, he has no problem handing it over to actual historians and the like, but he wants to be involved in the Process

He refuses to call the emotion he feels when seeing his name on an exhibit’s plaque “pride”, but...

Asmodeus

Heavy metal :)

It absolutely Does Not fit with his pastel pink softboi sex kitten image

So very few people know

Lots of people have heard Asmo sing, and a few have heard him scream for… certain reasons

But practically no one has heard him really scream

Part of him is slightly insecure about liking something that some might find unbecoming

But mostly he likes to keep it secret because he finds it deeply amusing to drop small hints about it and see people’s reactions

There may or may not be an underground Devildom metal band with a suspiciously charming singer who can go from the most primal growls to the crispest cleans without a hitch

I just really like the idea of Asmo dressed like a metalhead okay? He has the range!!

Beelzebub

Woodworking

This one is totally random, I have zero justification for it

I just think it’d be neat

Big things, small things, decorative things, functional things

Woodworking is a very physically and mentally involved process (unless you wanna lose a finger), so I imagine it’d be very grounding for Beel

Plus, bringing food into the woodshop would likely end terribly so if he’s looking to beat his cravings without emptying the fridge, that’s a plus

Now, my sleep-deprived brain supplies, has he ever tried to carve something with his teeth like a beaver? Well

I’m gonna say yes, but only once and it went poorly

He probably also does, uh… idk what it’s Officially Called, but when you burn/engrave stuff into wood with a heated metal stick

For some Sad Boy Hours, he’s definitely made something in tribute to Lilith and placed it at her tombstone

Belphegor

I’m gonna cheat a little bit bc while I don’t think it’s been brought up in canon, we do see it in his dance battle sprites… Ballet

It is the One Single Physical Activity Belphie’s into, and no it’s Not because ballet is easier than other activities

That is a bullshit lie fed to you by sexism, since ballet is perceived as more feminine than say, basketball or wtv

If ballet’s the base of your dance knowledge, you can do a lot of different styles with it, using a variety of techniques

But I imagine Belphie’s style is more classical leaning

He will literally do exercises in place to stay awake, his core is excellent

He can go on pointe, but because he sometimes takes long breaks from dance it may take him a while to build his strength back up to do it safely

Also it is now my headcanon that one of those breaks did not take place during his attic-captivity, because what would piss Lucifer off more than the THUNKS of Belphie’s slippers at odd hours?

THUNKS, you ask? But ballet shoes are so delicate lookin-

Toe shoes, my friend. Toe shoes.

They contain a wooden box at the toe which help support a dancer’s feet when they go on pointe. At shows, the music drowns it out, but if you’ve ever heard a pointe dancer practice in person, it is Loud. Not actually as graceful as it looks lol

Also also, does this mean Beel could have repaired Belphie’s shoes at some point? I dunno, i have no clue how ballet shoes are made. But i think it’d be sweet if he did ^-^

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #om:swd #obey me headcanon #mine #my writing #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Something causes Lan Qiren to just SNAP, go absolutely fucking feral, and run off to become a rogue cultivator.

Beautifully Spent

- Chapter 1 -

aka Five Times Lan Qiren Left The Lan Sect Behind

“It is your duty, Qiren.”

“Is it?” Lan Qiren asked coldly. “I believe you’re thinking of my brother. You might remember him – the sect leader?”

He’d never spoken that coldly to anyone, least of all an honored elder, one of his own teachers, but he had no choice.

Ever since he was young, Lan Qiren wanted to become a traveling musician - to wander the world freely, without the burdens that would fall on his older brother, the prospective sect leader. Even as he got older, he'd never quite let go of that ambition, refining it until it had become not only a dream but a plan.

He would see that plan come to fruition, no matter what it took.

His teacher looked at him helplessly. “What’s gotten into you?” he asked. “You know your brother has chosen seclusion –”

“I know that in the eyes of the sect I have never been a quarter the man he is,” Lan Qiren said quietly. “I know that in each instance that we have argued, you have all taken his side. I know that I was asked, time and time again, to yield – because he is the elder, because he is the heir, because he is the more talented of us two. I have always yielded, because I am a filial son, a good brother, and I love my sect. I have always yielded.”

His teacher cast his eyes down to the ground.

An acknowledgement of guilt.

“I will not yield this time,” Lan Qiren said simply. “This is the rest of my life, honored teacher. This is my entire life. For once, let himbe the one to yield – to do his duty to his sect, as he was always meant to.”

“But –”

“I have always been here for him.” Lan Qiren did not allow him to interrupt. “I have been his scapegoat when things have not gone his way, I have been his pawn in political games, I have even been his punching bag when he needed to vent his irrational anger. Everything he has had the freedom to do, he has done because he has had me here. If I were not here, would he be able to go into seclusion?”

His teacher was silent.

“He would not,” Lan Qiren concluded. “To go into seclusion when you are the only option to lead the sect is to be an unfilial descendant of our ancestors. And so, if I am not here, he would be obligated to live up to his duties.”

“His heart has just been broken. Do you have no empathy for him?”

“As much as I do for the woman who was forced by circumstances to agree to marry him, and no more.”

“Qiren…”

“Think of it as me being dead, honored teacher,” Lan Qiren said, and ignored his teacher’s flinch at such inauspicious words. “Do you need me to remove my forehead ribbon before I go?”

“Qiren! Of course not!”

“Ask my brother,” Lan Qiren said dryly. “He will have the final word, as usual, and he does not like not getting his way.”

He left that day, his head held high.

He did his best not to think of his brother, who had, in his own way, wanted freedom, too.

Lan Qiren travelled, after that. It was just as he’d always planned it: quiet nights along forest paths, visits to small towns in out-of-the-way corners of the world – inquiring and then solving any issues they had that required a cultivator, and playing for them when no such issues remained. He had anticipated hardship, knowing himself to be a rich young master who’d never really faced the world; he hadn’t anticipated kindness: a few married women in one town taking the time to show him how to do laundry, giggling at him all the while, a group of young woodcutters in the next the best way to forage and cook food when one was hungry, a merchant and his wife teaching him how to bargain to avoid getting cheated…in time, through the generosity and enthusiasm of others, he learned all the skills he needed.

He refused payment for night-hunts – amazingly, his sect did not cut him off as he’d almost expected them to, and he was still able to collect his usual allowance – but accepted it for his music, and from his place behind his guqin he watched, quiet and content, as life swirled around him in all its myriad forms.

In between music and night-hunts, he idly taught some skills to the children in the towns he passed through – the vast majority were common people, completely lacking in cultivation skills, but his sect’s rules and the philosophy behind them were applicable in far more situations than that, and basic martial skills in even more. Whenever he stayed somewhere for more than a few days, he added in lessons in basic literacy, mostly because the idea of not having books at hand was abhorrent to him; the parents involved were generally more grateful that he was keeping their children out of trouble than especially interested in what he was teaching them, but it’d never hurt anyone to know a little bit of reading.

When he happened upon a place already governed by another sect, he did not take particular care either to avoid or to approach them; if they happened to meet, and to invite him to stay with them, he would. Lao Nie tracked him down six times for that very purpose, citing increasingly less plausible excuses, before Lan Qiren finally agreed to make the Unclean Realm a regular stop on his travels just to make him stop; in contrast, Cangse Sanren just showed up at the camp he had made for himself one day, her husband as always by her side, and simply refused to leave for the next three months.

He did not visit the Cloud Recesses.

Not when he heard about how his brother had, however reluctantly, come out from seclusion and begun to do the work of sect leader, and do it well, the Lan sect prospering under his leadership as they had always expected to. Not when he got news that his nephew was born; not when he heard that one nephew had become two. Not even when he heard that his brother’s wife had died, though the thought of that miserable woman’s self-inflicted fate had moved him enough to write a letter of condolence to his brother – their first contact in seven years.

Lan Qiren did not expect anything to come of that impulse, though perhaps he should have known better: it wasn’t more than a week later that he received a letter in return, the heavy formal parchment used by the Lan sect as familiar to him as the back of his hand, his brother’s equally formal calligraphy very nearly as familiar.

The words on it weren’t familiar at all.

I have made a terrible mistake, his brother wrote. I need your help.

Lan Qiren was perhaps not especially filial to his sect, having abandoned it as readily as he did – but despite everything, he did love his brother.

He went home.

“Lan Huan, courtesy name Xichen,” his brother said, nodding at the small child, pudgy and fat and adorable, quivering like a pudding even as he tried to force a smile onto his face, clutching onto a baby only a few months old, the little one strangely solemn despite the inexpert manhandling. “Lan Zhan, courtesy name Wangji.”

Lan Qiren was not as shy as he used to be, and he had gotten better at dealing with children. He knelt down until he was level with them, though he did not force himself to adopt any expression that did not come naturally. “Hello,” he said. “I’m your uncle.”

“Hello, uncle,” Lan Xichen said.

Lan Qiren held out a hand and waited, even as his brother took his leave, busier than ever. It took a little while, but Lan Xichen eventually put his own hand in his, and walked with him; after a little while, he even entrusted him with little Lan Wangji, fussing until Lan Qiren had tucked him into the corner of his arm in a manner he found appropriate.

By the time his brother found them again, Lan Xichen was chattering on and on about his xiao lessons, while Lan Qiren nodded along and added his own observations – he was decently skilled at the xiao himself; while it was not his preferred instrument, there were times when it was easier to carry than a guqin, and he had had time, when he was younger, to indulge himself in learning more than one instrument.

When Lan Xichen saw his father, he fell silent at once. He did not hide behind Lan Qiren’s robes, though Lan Qiren half-thought he wanted to – his little hand trembled in Lan Qiren’s palm.

“Would you like to take your brother back?” Lan Qiren asked him. Lan Wangji was a good baby, crying only a few times, each time responding well and easily to the usual things a child his age wanted – milk, a burp, attention. Moreover, Lan Xichen was good with him, thoughtful and careful; Lan Qiren had no concerns entrusting the baby to him, and Lan Xichen brightened a little when he realized that, nodding happily and taking Lan Wangji, pausing only a moment to glance worriedly at his father before scurrying off.

Lan Qiren looked at his brother.

“He’s afraid of me,” his brother said. “You can tell, can’t you?”

A blind man could tell. Lan Qiren said nothing.

“Wangji cries whenever I hold him, too, even though he almost never cries the rest of the time. He’s not even a year old, and he already knows.”

“Knows?”

His brother looked out into the horizon. His hands were behind his back, clasped in a formal pose. “That I’ll ruin them, too.”

Lan Qiren put his own hands behind his back as well. After a few moments, he said, “You care for them both. That’s not nothing.”

Their own father hadn’t managed even that. He had treated Lan Qiren with utter indifference, while treasuring his eldest beyond the point of reason, encouraging him to always think only of himself; the seeds of their estrangement were planted long before either of them knew it, each of them learning different lessons from their father’s mismanagement – Lan Qiren how to be inferior and doubt himself, his brother to be self-absorbed and careless with the feelings of others; Lan Qiren to bend himself to the point of breaking, his brother to refuse to bend at all.

It had served neither of them well.

“I don’t know what love is, except possession,” his brother said. “Xichen torments himself to try to live up to my expectations, and all I’ve managed to teach him, other than fear, is how to say yes to everything just to make people go away. I find myself falling into the habit of thinking of him as an extension of myself, which is still more than I can do with Wangji, who doesn’t even cry like a regular child should…” He paused. “You didn’t cry much as a child either.”

Lan Qiren glanced at his brother, surprised. He hadn’t known his brother had paid enough attention to him back then to even notice.

His brother smiled thinly. “Our family is known for its quiet children, did you know? I hadn’t, but they told me after Wangji was born. Apparently, there’s a few in every generation: a little slow, a little strange, with minds that don’t work quite the same way as the rest of us. The ones that don’t like to look you in the eye – sometimes they learn to speak, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they’re brilliant. As babies, they’re generally a little too quiet. There were three in our father’s generation, but in ours there was only you. And now, there’s Wangji…”

He shook his head.

“I wronged you before, Qiren. I don’t want to do it again – I don’t want to know what sort of father I’d be to a child like you. I’m not willing to risk waiting to find out, either.”

When Lan Qiren left the Cloud Recesses, he took with him a qiankun pouch weighed down with more money than he’d ever had in his life, two children, one smiling happily as the other burbled quietly, and his brother’s trust.

He had no idea what to do with any of it.

#mdzs #lan qiren #my fic #my fics #not set in the same universe as spilled pearls #but will probably make the most sense if you've read that first #beautifully spent

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neoculturetravesty · 3 years

Text

We met in online class - Part 6

Image adapted from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, some fluff, lots of angst in this part Warnings: Strong language, descriptions of stress and anxiety, fist fight Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: Buckle up for some angst.

They say when it rains, it pours and Renjun was about to learn the true meaning of this expression.

Throughout his college life, Renjun had heard his share of praise from his professors who would tell him that he was gifted in a way not many artists were. But now that the career drives and job fairs had begun, Renjun learnt that at best, he was average. In the real world, he wasn’t ‘golden hands’ or gifted or anything like it--he was just one in a line of millions. Because in the bigger picture, Renjun’s competition was not just people in his school; he was competing with even better artists from even better universities that had even better skills and even better means. His design professor had very plainly told the class one day that out of all of them, maybe one or two would ‘make it’ in the real world, if they got lucky. So Renjun knew that if had to shut up anyone who ever doubted him, compete with the best and place anywhere solid by the time he graduated, he needed to land a stellar internship.

Not that his current internship was going any better. Renjun learnt that even small studios were a handful and that an internship basically meant being an errand boy. When he had taken on the job, he had fantasized about meeting exciting artists and maybe even helping the chief curate his best work yet. But more often than not, he found that he was sweeping the place down, and if he got lucky, he got to make a few calls to potential clients (who would yell at him before hanging up).

And of course, like any self-respecting college that thrived on the student body’s mental health deterioration, the professors weren’t going any easier on the projects, even with the impending exams.

On top of everything that was happening, Renjun had developed a constant tension in his neck and shoulders. Jaemin reckoned it was because Renjun was hunched over his paintings all the time as he followed the perfect lighting all over the apartment. You, on the other hand, reckoned it was because of all the stress.

“You’re just carrying a lot of anxiety on these gangster shoulders, Huang Renjun.” you had said as you kneaded your knuckles into his hurt one day as you brought him food. Lately, you had taken it upon yourself to make sure that Renjun was eating and staying hydrated through these pressure cooker times. Because when he was left to his own devices, eating would be pretty low on his priority list, simply because he did not have the time for meals. So you’d bring him a snack any time you saw him on campus, and when you didn’t see him, you’d get something delivered to him and if you couldn’t, you’d text him a reminder to eat. But as one would have it during end-of-semester madness, Renjun had received your food more than your company. Because truth be told, you were just as occupied.

Renjun hadn’t seen enough of you in what he was sure was now going to be a good two weeks running because you had way too much on your plate as well. Like Renjun, you too were swarmed by assignments and exams. But other than that, any time he did see you, you were ‘interview dressed’ for all the on-campus drives that were happening in your department. Renjun had come to wish you good luck on one of them and had seen how distracted you looked because apparently, you had pulled some all-nighters to prepare for this. Donghyuck had been the one to tell Renjun about this little bit.

Because when you weren’t studying or giving interviews or working on projects, you were preparing to throw an end-of-semester party with Donghyuck. He had to admit, there had been moments where Renjun had been irritated that Donghyuck would know more about what was happening in your life than did he. But then again, who was to blame for that?

Renjun knew it was no one’s fault but his own. Because that’s the dumb precedent he had set from the very beginning--that he wouldn’t get too close. He was paying that price for it because somewhere along the way, you had begun to confide in Donghyuck more than in Renjun, though this development was gradual and subconscious. He supposed that since you had met him, some part of you had learnt that she was walking into a wall anytime things got deep with Renjun. And there are only so many times that people were willing to walk into walls before they learnt their lesson.

Renjun knew that you were always ready to provide emotional support. But he also saw that when you were the one that needed it, you were subconsciously turning to Donghyuck rather than to him.

And because you weren’t doing so consciously, Renjun couldn’t even be upset with you. Who was he to be upset with you over it in the first place? He had spent all those weeks skillfully blocking you. So, just because he had changed his mind now didn’t mean that he could earn your vents right away. It would take some effort on his part and he acknowledged that.

But it wasn’t you hanging out with Donghyuck that bothered him. It was someone else.

Wong Hendery, it appeared, was always around you these days and for some reason, that really bothered Renjun. You had a lot of friends. You were just the kind of person who made friends wherever you went. His own friends were an example. Lately, any time he ran into his roommates in the living room or kitchen (since all of them were buried in work otherwise), they would inquire about you instead of him. You just made a lot of friends and that was a fact of life that Renjun lived with. And whilst so far, Renjun had been okay with all of them, he had no idea why seeing Wong Hendery around you made him feel some type of way.

And in the strangest turn of events, he had even found himself subtly voicing this to you a couple of times. It had bothered him even more that you had never taken him seriously any time he brought it up. You had either been distracted or disinterested whenever this came up. Or perhaps you had very tactfully been avoiding the subject. You weren’t exactly the scheming type, so Renjun was sure it wasn’t that. All he knew was that at the end of it, he would just end up feeling stupid, because, well… it was a stupid, baseless feeling to have, whatever this was.

All in all, Renjun couldn’t tell what matter it was from the pillage that kept his mood sour these days. His failure in the job fairs, his increasing workload, the impending exams, his lackluster internship, or something else. He recognized that a big part of it had to do with not seeing you enough. He wasn’t going to be the idiot that denied that anymore. Since the party at your parent’s house, he hadn’t had a moment with you where it was just the two of you and you could talk about… well, the two of you. Not seeing you enough was making him sour, he knew that. However, not seeing you enough combined with the fact that Wong Hendery was around you all the time was probably pretty up there as a reason for his bad moods.

The only upside in the end-of-semester times was that the damn virus seemed to be under control. Students could now more freely move about and a lot more cafes and parks had reopened. So, at the very least, Renjun could get a change of scenery whilst he painted or studied because he was getting tired of his apartment and the library and the damn studio.

Today, he had just grabbed his things and sent you a very persuasive text, because really, enough was enough. Yes, you were both very busy. Yes, you didn’t have any time today. But you could at least give him one study date out in the sun, and finally, for the first time in two weeks, he had felt that happiness in his chest when you told him you’d come.

The two of you sat by the river as Renjun sketched and made notes and you typed away on your laptop. Your hair was done up in a bun and you wore the campus hoodie and you didn’t even look up from your work when Renjun leaned over to feed you some rice. It had made Renjun smile. You looked like every boy’s fantasy of a college girlfriend but thinking about it also made his heart a tiny bit heavy. Because after all this time, the two of you still hadn’t had that conversation. Come to think of it, the two of you hadn’t even kissed ever since that afternoon in the strawberry fields. And maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t sat with you like this in a couple of weeks, or maybe it was seeing you share your time with other people. But Renjun felt that he had to address the some elephant in the room sooner rather than later. Because he didn’t want a some relationship any longer. He wanted more.

“No one’s going to be happier than me when this semester is over.” you mutter as you chew onto whatever Renjun had fed you.

“You and me both. Let’s celebrate our freedom together when it ends.” Renjun suggests as he sits up to stretch his neck.

“Done deal.” You look up from your laptop to give him a fist bump.

“Hey, I was thinking…” Renjun hesitates. “Let’s go somewhere together. After the semester is over.” He feels butterflies in his stomach even as he asks you that. And he knows why. Because this is the first time he’s asking you for a real date, where he wants to take you out for your company, no opportunistic strings attached. But also, he wants to take you away from everyone else where he would have all of your attention and he could finally tell you how he really feels.

You smile as you shuffle your notes. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Anywhere. We could go to the beach and go mudflat fishing. If that’s not your thing, we could go camping instead.”

You finally look at him and smile an undistracted, attentive smile. “I’d like that.”

Renjun looks at you softly as he returns your smile. “My exams end before yours. Let’s go right after your last exam.”

“Oh, I can’t go then.” You say, shaking your head quickly.

“Why?”

“Haechan and I are hosting the end-of-semester, remember?” you remind him and Renjun holds himself back before he could exhale over ‘Haechan and I’.

“Okay, how about the day after?” Renjun asks.

“I can’t go then, either. Hendery and I have to go visit the tower.” you tell him.

This time, Renjun can’t hold back. Because ‘Hendery and I’ was way, way worse than ‘Haechan and I’. Before he could stop himself, he finds himself commenting

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Wong Hendery, huh?” he hadn’t meant for that hint of accusation to lace his tone, but it had come out that way.

“Ughhhh, tell me about it. He says he’d basically be happy never seeing me again once all of this is over.” you say as you steal his bowl of rice and begin stuffing your face. Renjun feels that irritation again because as always, you seem to be blowing this topic off. But for some reason, he doesn’t want to let it go today.

“I just don’t trust him.” Renjun says and he finds himself clenching his jaw a little.

You look at him from above the rice and smile amusedly. “Why though? He’s a cool dude.”

“I don’t know. There’s just something about him. I just… I don’t know, I guess it’s a guy’s instinct.” he says, and like anytime he has brought up this subject before, he’s feeling incredibly dumb.

You raise an eyebrow and look away from him. You don’t seem very impressed by the comment. “Nah, he’s super cool and all of that. You can meet him if you like.” you say in a tone that is way too nonchalant for Renjun’s liking.

He had met him before, of course. But he didn’t know Wong Hendery even if he did know Wong Hendery. So how could he tell you that the man was bad news based on just a feeling? ‘He’s using you! Why don’t you see that he’s using you!’ Renjun wanted to yell at you. But he says something else.

“Just, like… I don’t know. He just seems mysterious and unsharing.” Renjun tries to explain.

“So are you.”

There is a moment of silence as Renjun feels a sting and you look at him with no expression.

You were right.

Renjun hadn’t shared anything about himself with you. The things you knew about him was information you had probably collected through his friends. The only time he had really opened up to you was that one night in his room. Suddenly, more than irritation, he feels angry with himself.

What a stupid, stupid, stupid idea it had been to set those dumbass rules with you. How had he expected it would pan out? How did he think he could use you as a means to an end, but not learn anything about you or give away anything about himself? He hadn’t thought this through at all. Then again, he hadn’t expected for it to go on this long; and he most certainly hadn’t expected that he would end up falling for you.

“I just… I don’t trust him around you.” Renjun admits and this time, he has the decency to sound a little ashamed.

“I know how to take care of myself, Renjun.” you tell him quietly.

Renjun looks away because for the first time since he’s known you, you’ve spoken to him that way. He wants to scream and pull his hair because no. You don’t. You don’t know how to take care of yourself. How could he tell you that you weren’t the best judge of character? How could he tell you that you allowed people around you to take advantage of you?

‘It’s why you’re sitting here with me’ Renjun thinks with another sting. He knew Hendery was up to no good with you because he himself had been one of those people that used you for their own gain. He had used your kind heart and your willingness to see the good in people for his own stupid plan. The stupid, dumbass, flawed plan that he hadn’t thought through in the slightest. He had thought he had, because Renjun always assumed he was smarter than everyone in any room. That was probably his dumbest yet most defining trait; as kindheartedness was yours.

As if to add insult to injury, your phone rings and Wong Hendery’s name shines cockily onto your screen, mocking Renjun in all its glory.

“Hey, are you here?” you say as you pick up. You look around till you spot him and wave at him “Okay, coming!”

Renjun looks to where you had signaled and sees Hendery in his bigass car. He notices Renjun looking, waves at him and smiles.

Renjun’s eyes close and he takes in a deep breath as you begin collecting your things. He doesn’t know why he’s being this way. He had been jealous before; he was an openly bitter person, that much he knew about himself. He despised every other asshole that did better than him. But this was a kind of jealousy he had never really experienced before. He wanted to protect you, but he also wanted to keep you… because now, he could feel you slipping away from him.

“I’ll call you, okay? Make sure you eat dinner.” your voice sounds a little resigned and suddenly, Renjun feels his heart drop. It’s a strange feeling, but there it is in the pit of his stomach. Renjun realizes that the feeling really closely resembled fear. And it’s because you’re leaving like this.

Had this been your first fight? Maybe it had. It hadn’t felt like a fight, because Renjun has fought with a lot of people before, and this was nothing like that. There was no screaming, no gaslighting, no accusations. But it was the tone you had taken with him. Like you were disappointed. Like you expected better. You had never taken that tone with him before. So as you stand up to walk away, Renjun grabs your hand. He looks up from where he sits.

“Hey…” his heart is sinking, he has this awful feeling in his chest and now he no longer knows what to say to keep you. So he brings your knuckles to his lips and presses into them for a few moments before he looks back at you. “Are we good?” He wants to kiss you, he wants to take you in his arms and kiss you and know that nothing has changed. But he knows that Wong Hendery is sitting right there and he doesn’t want you to think that he’s putting on a show of jealous, testosterone fueled possession.

He watches as your face softens. You crouch so your face is levelled with his. You keep holding your bag that’s slung over your shoulder with one hand. With the other, you gently hold onto his cheek and lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“We’re good.” you say and you smile and then you lift back up to turn around.

Renjun watches unmoving as you walk away from him and drive off with Wong Hendery. He keeps watching till the car makes a turn and disappears from view.

Though you had told him that you were good, that sinking feeling hasn’t left his chest. Because Renjun realizes that what you had done had felt a lot like a goodbye kiss.

Renjun doesn’t get time to dwell on his aching heart too much, because soon after, exams begin.

It is as if a lull had taken over the entire campus. Everyone around him had their heads down as they studied and slept and slept to study. Jeno and Jaemin had taken over the living room table as they crammed and kept each other awake through their all-nighters. Jisung would try to take some motivation from them but the boy had never been too fond of studying, so he’d end up asleep on the couch whilst Jeno and Jaemin took the floor. Even Donghyuck--who had insofar made it through college based on pure intelligence--could be seen bent over his notes in the library. For a week, each student on campus had a similar schedule; like someone had hit the pause button on everything else in life.

Perhaps it had been the exam stress. Perhaps it was everything that was happening culminating in Renjun’s mind, but that sinking feeling hadn’t completely dissipated from his chest. He had no way to explain what it was or why it was. But if Renjun had to describe it, it was as if a sixth sense was warning him. What the warning was about, he had no idea.

But as fate would have it, Renjun’s hardships were only beginning. Because right before his first exam, he had received a call from his mother.

He had picked up because this had been maybe her third phone call to him this entire year. But two minutes into the call, Renjun wished he hadn’t.

Questions were asked as if out of duty: if he was still in school, if he was still living with his friends, if he was looking for a job. And though Renjun hadn’t even asked for it--how she couldn’t send him money for the next couple of months because the Covid situation wasn’t doing any wonders for their restaurant. Although the conversation hadn’t even lasted a full 10 minutes, Renjun’s mind was fully fucked by the end of it. Why the fuck did she have to play with his head like this, just when he was about to go in for an exam?

He shouldn’t have been surprised. His mother had a way of sensing any time her son was emotionally strained, because she would always show up right on time to add to his burden. This is how it had been most of his life. She would appear usually when Renjun was at his lowest and remind him that he was a useless fucker that nobody cared about. And because she was his mother, she knew exactly what buttons to press to positively fuck him over.

Fuck this. None of it was fair. It wasn’t fair that she had called him after months and months. It wasn’t fair that she didn’t even want to know how he was doing. A global pandemic had turned the world upside down and she didn’t even want to know if her son was surviving through it. She just wanted to call to give him another reminder that she couldn’t take care of him. Fuck that. Fuck her. Fuck everything. Renjun didn’t need her or his father or anyone else ever again. Fuck all of it.

Renjun had hung up bitterly and that should’ve been the end of it. But for some reason, she had kept calling after that, which made Renjun throw his phone against a wall. Fuck that. She doesn’t get to call him to rub more salt to his wounds. He wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction.

It’s funny how when you’re truly feeling fucked, you tend to isolate yourself from the people who really care about you. And that’s what Renjun ended up doing following that phone call. Almost as if in self-sabotage, he started avoiding everyone and hid himself away. Because no way did anyone really need him, anyway. Renjun knew that even in his friend group, he was the one the others could do without.

Jeno and Jaemin had one another. They would babysit Jisung well enough, and when they didn’t, Jisung had Zhong Chenle. His housemates didn’t really need him, so hiding from them was easy. Lately, he had also stopped hanging out with Yangyang because he was afraid he’d run into Hendery. Lee Mark hadn’t really hung out with him ever since he joined the 127s. And Donghyuck… well, he had you.

So even you could do without him. You had been doing just fine without him these past couple of weeks. You had still been bringing him snacks, even after that study date. But Renjun wondered if that was because of your bad, kind habit rather than anything else. Truth be told, Renjun didn’t want your snacks anymore. Because each time he got them, it reminded him that he was nothing special to you. He wasn’t any different to you than Jaemin or Jeno or Donghyuck. He was just another guy that you were kind to out of habit. Fuck that. He didn’t need your kindness, or anyone else’s. He was fine on his own.

But on the night after his last exam, he finally picked up the phone he had thrown and read his messages through his cracked phone screen. Just to see if someone missed him. As expected, no one did. But there were some messages from you.

‘Hey shoulder gangster, remember to put on pain patches before you sleep!’

‘I ordered some chicken for you guys, eat well and study well.’

‘Hey, I tried calling you. I had gotten you coffee, but I couldn’t find you so now hyuckie is drinking it.’

‘Ayo. I hope your exam went well. Sending some Chinese food over, so eat before you study!’

‘Hey, Jaemin told me your phone is busted. Idk if you’re gonna see this message, but just wanted to know you’re doing well.’

‘I tried to see you before you went in for your exam but Jeno said you had already left.’

‘Hey… I hope you’re not still upset with me. I’m gonna stop bothering you so we can both study, but I’ll come see you soon.’

‘Okay, I guess i’ll see you after exam week? Meet soon.’

That was the last of it. After that, you hadn’t sent him anything at all. Even you had stopped reaching out to him.

It seemed that when it came down to it, no one would ever fight for Renjun. No one would want to find out why he was in hiding, or why he hadn’t replied. When worst came to worst, Renjun was always left to fend for himself. He was all alone in this world.

Jeno and Jaemin would always know what the other was feeling without having to use the words. Neither of them had to explain to the other what was on their mind. They just… knew. When one was in trouble, the other would come running. When one was down, the other would pick him up. Neither had to ask; the other would just sense it and be there. Jisung and Chenle had a similar connection.

But no one ever sensed Renjun’s heart. No one just knew when he was sad or upset or angry or in trouble. No one would pick him up because no one loved him enough to know his mind. No one had ever paid any real attention to him to know when he was struggling. No one had ever held his hand and taken him out of his despair. No one would even notice that he was in despair. Because he wasn’t anyone’s special anything.

He had been hiding away for an entire week and no one had even noticed his absence. No one had called in to check on him. Because no one really needed him. Not his friends, not his family. Not even you.

They say when it rains, it pours, and Renjun was about to learn the true meaning of this phrase. Because just when he is about to put his phone away, he receives a text from his mother.

‘Renjun, I didn’t want to tell you this way. But you’re not picking up my calls. Come see me. Your father and I are getting a divorce.’

Renjun had never really been a big drinker. He’d drink some with the boys every now and then. But that was it. But tonight was an exception. Tonight, it was okay to turn to the drink. Tonight, he wanted to forget.

After the kind of day he had had, he thought that even his demons could give him a break. He felt drained. Like his mind was slowly giving up and his body was doing all the heavy lifting. Putting one foot in front of the other. Making him breathe in and out. Keeping his heart beating. It would be doing his mind a favor, drinking. His mind needed numbing, then maybe his body could follow.

He walks into the bar a broken man. And he wonders if that’s how all men are when they walk into bars. Maybe that’s why men who walk into bars make such good punchlines for jokes. He certainly felt like one. Because the people that should love him seemed to treat him like one. Who was he to think any better of himself?

He had made peace with the fact that his parents never wanted him. He had accepted that they were happy to get rid of him. Then why did he still expect their love every single time? What was it that made him go running to them any time they asked? Why had he expected that somehow visiting them would fix everything?

Had he expected that they would sit him down and peacefully explain why they were parting ways? Of course, he hadn’t. Had he expected that his mother would cry and apologize for putting him through this? Of course, he hadn’t. Had he expected that his father would own up to his mistakes and call him his son? Of course, he hadn’t.

But he also hadn’t expected that neither of them would want anything to do with him after they parted ways. He hadn’t expected to be the collateral damage of a failed marriage that neither party was willing to own. He hadn’t expected to be summoned just so his parents could have a screaming match about whose son he’d be after they divorced. And that both would want to shift that burden to the other.

It suited them, Renjun thinks as he downs whatever the bartender had handed him. It would’ve been more unsettling to have made the trip to find something understanding and amiable. This was on-brand for them. This is how it had been since he was a child. They’d fight and Renjun would be collateral damage. This was the perfect ending to their twenty-one year old saga. Renjun had expected it.

So, why was he feeling like he had lost everything?

“Huang Renjun?” he hears a voice call out to him as if from miles away. Was he drowning? Then why did he feel like he couldn’t breathe? Why did the voices around him sound like they were coming from far away?

“Yoo Jimin.” Renjun finds himself automatically answering. He looks up and let’s his eyes focus and there he finds her. He smiles. Of course. Who else would’ve been the guest of honor in his pity party?

“What are you doing here?” she asks him and Renjun finds himself making a face.

“Drinking.” he says as he lifts up his shot glass.

“Did you follow me here?” she asks cryptically. Typical. Of course everything had to be about her.

“How would I know you’d be here?” Renjun says, looking away as he downs another shot.

“I told everyone at the party I was leaving to be here.” she says and her eyebrow is cocked as she comes closer.

“Party?”

“Haechan’s party? All your friends were there. Weren’t you there?” she asks cautiously.

Ah, yes, the party. The end-of-semester party. Here he was, drinking his pain away. And his friends, the people who should be concerned about him were partying. It was all very fitting he supposed. This perfectly fit into everything in his life at this moment. Including the fact the Yoo Jimin had been the one to find him when he was at his lowest.

“I didn’t feel like a party.” Renjun replies.

Jimin scoffs. “Typical. Of course Huang Renjun thinks he’s above a party everyone would enjoy.”

Renjun doesn’t answer. It’s an annoying remark and part of him wonders why it is irking him so. His heart was burdened by bigger things. Perhaps his mind thought that being annoyed at Yoo Jimin was an easier emotion to address. This was an emotion he understood. It was an emotion he could process right away. So he turns to her and finds her sitting on the stool next to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, because really. Why is she here, talking to him, sitting next to him?

“Oh, don’t worry, Renjun. I’m only waiting for someone.” she says, rolling her eyes and flipping her hair.

“You can wait for someone over there.” Renjun points to a place far away with his glass.

“Okay, you don’t have to be an asshole. I just came in to see why you were drinking alone while all your friends are at that party.” she says and now more than agitation, Renjun feels anger.

“Why do you care if I drink alone, anyway? You’re the one that broke up with me.” he spits out.

“Renjun, seriously, what is your problem? I’m only trying to be nice to you. You don’t have to come for me like that.” Jimin’s eyebrows are high on her forehead as she matches Renjun’s tone.

“Well, thanks a lot, Yoo Jimin. Thank you for your gift of empathy, but I don’t really need it. Not after everything you did to me.”

“Renjun! Seriously, what is it that I did to you? What did I do to you?” she raises her voice in agitation.

“Well, other than abandoning me? Pretending that you were happy with me then pulling the rug from under my feet and breaking up with me? Not even waiting a month before moving on?” Renjun spits venom right back. Who did she think she was, coming here and speaking to him like that?

“Jesus Christ, Renjun. Would you listen to yourself? Does it ever occur to you that you could’ve been the asshole in this relationship? That maybe I broke up with you because you were the jerk?” Jimin’s face is contoured as she yells at him. It’s good that the bar is relatively full, otherwise this could’ve been a scene.

“I was nothing but nice to you. I treated you so well and you treated me like dirt!” Renjun hisses.

“Renjun, that’s your problem! You only see the faults in others and never in yourself! But you’re not ready for that conversation, so let’s not have it!” she yells and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“No, no, by all means, let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about all the times I mistreated you, please.” Renjun mocks. He was already too used to being gaslighted by his parents. Jimin could join that club. This was already the worst day of his life. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Renjun, this! This right here. You never respected me. You never treated me like an equal. With you, I always felt like some stupid, airheaded trophy. I always felt like everything I wanted was superficial and shallow and not worth anything!”

“And whose fault is that.” Renjun laughs darkly.

“Renjun, you can’t even see what you’re doing! You just think you’re so much better than everyone else! You think everyone around you is a degenerate and that you’re the smartest person to ever walk this earth. I can’t believe I let you treat me that way for so long.” Jimin’s hands go from balling into fists to animatedly helping her point. “Renjun, I wanted to be a model for the longest time. But I didn’t, because of you! Because every time I’d post a picture on my Instagram, you’d tell me it was because I love getting validation from strangers. Every time an agent reached out to me, you’d tell me how showing off my looks wasn’t going to be a long lasting career. You just never respected me or my aspirations. Because all of them were so beneath Mr. Intellectual.”

Renjun turns away. He pours himself another shot and downs it. He didn’t want a lecture. Who was she to show up like this and give him a lecture unprovoked?

“If it weren’t for Jongin, I would’ve believed everything you ever said to me. That people would only like me for my looks. That what I wanted to do was superficial and shallow and that I would never amount to anything if I followed my heart.” she goes on and Renjun has had enough.

“Save it, Jimin. We’re broken up now, so what does it matter?” he doesn’t look at her. She could yell at him all she wanted. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

“I only came to you because I saw you drinking alone. And I know that’s not like you. I just wanted to see if you’re okay.” her voice has lowered significantly, but the agitation hasn’t left her tone. Renjun wonders if she has more to say, because he certainly doesn’t want to listen to any more.

“Well, that’s very kind of you, but I’m fine on my own.” he says coldly, still not looking at her.

Jimin sighs. “Renjun, when will you realize that the whole world isn’t out to get you? I know your family isn’t perfect. But you’ve got friends that care about you. You’ve got people around you that love you. If only you could stop being an asshole to them for one hot minute and see that.”

Renjun still doesn’t turn. Because she doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t know his life. She doesn’t know how alone he feels. She doesn’t know jackshit about what he goes through, what he has been going through. Who is she to comment on his life and stand there like that and lecture him? She didn’t know anything. Fuck her for making him feel like he was the asshole. The world was taking a giant dump on him, and she was making him feel like he was the asshole. Fuck that.

She grabs her purse and gets off the stool. “I’ve got to go now. I just hope you feel better. Whatever it is that you’re going through. Please don’t go through it alone, Renjun.” she says before she walks away.

Renjun feels a lump in his throat. How could he not go through it alone? Who was going to be by his side? No one. So what use were his tears? He wouldn’t let them fall. He swallows that lump away, and when it doesn’t work, he takes another shot. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He could just go home and sleep. Maybe that would work. The alcohol wasn’t numbing anything. It was just making him more bitter, but for more reasons than what he had come in with.

So he finds himself walking home. Putting one foot in front of the other. Breathing in and out. Keeping his heart beating.

He felt so alone. Was he the loneliest man in the world? He could bet money that he was. No one knew what he was going through. And that’s what made him feel most abandoned. But then again. Fuck that. He didn’t need anyone. What good were friends anyway? Friendships really meant nothing. Renjun finally realized that what he had were not friends, but connections. Because at the end of the day, that’s what this goddamn college life was all about. Making as many connections as you possibly could, so you could reap advantages from them later on life. All of his relationships were opportunistic. And realizing this was giving him the worst headache of his life. Like all the alcohol was thrumming in his head and blinding him.

He arrives at his doorstep, punches in his code, walks in and freezes at what he sees.

Jeno, Jaemin, Jisung, Donghyuck, Zhong Chenle and you were all in the living room, drinking and eating and laughing. None of them had even noticed that Renjun had walked in. Because they were all too busy bellowing together.

Suddenly, Renjun feels his blood boiling hot in his veins. How dare they. How dare they look like one big happy fucking family right in front of him. Renjun pushes back all emotions he’d been feeling and holds onto one: red hot burning anger. He heads in.

“Hey, hey! Look who’s finally back!” Donghyuck says mid-laughter as he finally notices him. “Come join us because Mark is passed out on your bed, by the way.” he laughs but his smile slowly fades as he watches Renjun’s expression.

“You okay, man?” Jeno asks slowly.

The others slowly start reading his energy as well because his demeanor has gotten everyone’s attention. Renjun wants to pick a fight. He wants to fight with all of them for not being there for him. But he looks around for an easy target. Someone he can direct all his ruthless anger towards. And his eyes zero in on you.

“What are you doing here?” Renjun asks you urgently. Like you’ve done something wrong.

“I just got you some food. We all thought we’d eat with you since you didn’t come to the party.” you say and you get up smiling and take Renjun’s wrist “Come, sit.”

But Renjun roughly snatches his hand away from your grip, making you look up suddenly. Your eyes are round, but you don’t look angry. You perhaps look shocked, but mostly concerned. And that makes Renjun want to hurt you more.

“You can’t just show up here unannounced. I didn’t invite you here.” Renjun spits at you.

“Hey man, easy. We invited her.” Donghyuck gets up and puts himself between the two of you.

“Well, this is not your house, either! You can’t just invite her without asking me.” Renjun scowls at the boy.

“Renjun, I just got you some food. I just wanted to make sure you had eaten.” you say gently, stepping up from behind Donghyuck to speak to him.

“Y/N, you are not my girlfriend. So stop acting like it.” Renjun snaps and he finally watches the hurt he wanted to see on your face. He also sees Jisung’s scared expression and Jaemin’s disappointed one.

“I…” you begin “... I know… I just… I came here with the guys… I…” you begin, but Renjun yells again.

“You need to leave. You can’t just show up whenever you want.” Renjun continues and takes a step forward but Donghyuck holds a protective arm in front of you. Whoop-dee fucking doo. Now his friends thought he was some sort of a savage.

“No, Y/N, you shouldn’t leave.” He says then turns to his friend. “Dude, what is your problem?” But Renjun keeps attacking you.

“These people are not your friends, okay? They are my friends. You’re crossing a line and you need to leave right now.” Renjun loves the reactions he’s getting. He loves that he has provoked every single person in the room. Because Jaemin has gotten up and taken your hand protectively whilst Jeno has joined Donghyuck in blocking you from his view.

“Hey, man. Easy.” Jeno warns. Jisung and Chenle watch this strange confrontation with worried looks on their faces, eyes darting between him and the others. Renjun can’t believe it. All his friends were protecting you. All of them. He was the fucking monster in this room, too.

“Renjun, I just… I just came here to see you.” you say, but there’s no accusation in your tone. Just annoying, tiresome understanding. He fucking hates it and all his friends can see that he does.

After everything he had been through, after all his life was putting him through, he was the asshole, he was the monster once again.

Well, then. If everyone thought him a monster, he should become it completely.

“Y/N.” Renjun laughs as he looks away. Then he looks at you with that sinister smile still on his face. “Y/N, the only reason I’ve kept you around for so long is because I wanted to get to your brother. So you can leave now.”

That did it.

Because Donghyuck’s eyes have closed as he stands in front of you and Jeno’s eyes have widened. Jaemin just looks shocked as he holds onto your hand. As do Jisung and Chenle. But you.

Your face has hardened. He doesn’t see shock or disappointment or the kind of reaction that would’ve given him full satisfaction. He sees your stone face as you finally say something with a hint of venom in your tone.

“Well, in that case, Renjun, you’ve been wasting your time. Because I got you a slot with my brother right after our first date.”

Renjun stands speechless.

He would’ve remained speechless if you hadn’t pushed past Jeno and him and headed straight for the door.

“Y/N!” Donghyuck calls out and goes after you. Renjun watches the others. Jaemin and Jisung have looked away and he sees nothing but pure disappointment on their faces. Jeno, on the other hand, is looking straight at him. Renjun looks back. Good. He wants everyone to hate him. This was exactly right.

He hears Donghyuck barge back into the apartment as the door bangs shut behind him.

“Dude what the fuck is wrong with you?!” He yells and Renjun finds himself shoving the boy, pushing him so he wasn’t in his space.

“What’s wrong with me? Please, Donghyuck. Don’t even pretend like you haven’t been using her the same way I’ve been. You’re not any better.” Renjun punctuates the last bit with another shove and Donghyuck grabs at his collar and roughly pulls him by it. Before it can escalate, Jeno and Jaemin rush forward to break the two of them apart. Jeno grabs onto Renjun, Jaemin onto Donghyuck, prying him off and creating some distance between the two. Jisung and Chenle look from the couch, mouths hanging open, visibly distressed.

“You didn’t have to do that, man. You didn’t have to be an asshole to her.” Donghyuck accuses as he tries to free himself from Jaemin’s grip and come face to face with Renjun again.

Renjun laughs bitterly. “Well, now that I have been, you can have her. Live your happy fucking life.” Renjun spits at him and he gets the reaction he was looking for because it makes Donghyuck lunge at him once again, making Jaemin tighten his grip and pull him back.

“What is wrong with you? You fucking asshole! Why do you think everyone’s out to get you? Stop acting like a little bitch and start acting like a man for once!” Donghyuck shouts and that does it.

Renjun feels his headache blinding him. And yet, he doesn’t know how he frees himself from Jeno’s grip. But before he knows it, he has balled his hand into a fist and aimed it straight for Donghyuck’s face.

#renjun fic #renjun angst #renjun fluff #ficscafe #kpopscape #neowritingsnet #dreamwritersnet #huang renjun #renjun #nct fic #nct fluff #nct angst #nct #nct dream #nct college au #renjun x reader #we met in online class

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stylistiquements · 3 years

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The Sorcerer pt. 1

Corpse Husband x gn!reader

Reincarnation AU | Summary :

The same candle lights up on Corpse’s desk every time you are reborn and turn 23. He has been looking for you during centuries but this time you might be closer than anticipated. {Playlist}

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

You’re about to blow your 23rd candles and Corpse is about to experience the consequences of it. Somehow, something about your rebirth is different this time.

☾ Words : 6009.

☾ Warnings : angst, mention of death (only suggested and not specific), grieving, swearing

Masterlist | Next

What does it mean to be a sorcerer in 2021? Corpse wonders as he chooses an outfit for his black bean character, lightly tapping his fingers in a crafted rhythm against his dark wooden desk. Nothing, really. The modern days turned his kind into a groundless concept, legendary creatures at best and it’s truly a shame when you think about it.

“Alright, are you ready?” Corpse asks as he moves his mouse above the “start” button and projects everyone into a new round.

“I won’t forgive you like I did last round,” Karl warns Corpse, dash of amusement in his tone.

“Sure,” he scoffs and the devious ghost of a smile shines on his lips when the bloody word “imposter” appears above his virtual pink cat hat.

Sorcerers used to be the rulers of this world and the most famous of well-hidden secrets; no one talked about it yet everyone knew. You just had to be here, respect and adoration followed their every move. People from all horizons went out of their way to meet them in hope of witnessing a miracle.

Oh, how the tables have turned now. They didn’t have to hide their face back then and it all went the harmonious way until a certain day when their fate met a tragic outcome. The day when life took a turn for the hidden.

Corpse is somehow retired now. Maybe that’s why he started doing youtube in the first place; because the craving of being needed had to be fulfilled one way or another. Or maybe because the thrill of life has been gone for so long he had to try everything to fill the void in hope of feeling a drip of something again. The weariness of a mere life stiffened in his rib cage from time to time, preventing a proper breathing.

He could have still been able to practice his magic facelessly -he wouldn’t be the first one to do so after all- but it seems crazy, surreal even, for him to picture being so public about such a heavy little secret nowadays. He found comfort in the concealed, in the invisible so long ago.

See, that’s the most important reason why Corpse is who he is today but stopping the explanations there would be neglecting the truth. Corpse would, but I'm more honest than he is.

Somehow, he believes a little too seriously that a kid’s app was designed to ruin his life. He feels this rotting taste that burns his tongue every time he thinks about it, he always talks about it with great passion; as if one minute videos could compete against the thundering energy that travels from his veins to the tip of his fingers. Witchcraft tiktok got the last bit of his ancestral pride and that’s a damn shame.

His character ambles around the hostile corridors dipped in yellow light, looking for a prey to slice in half. He doesn’t have a plan yet but he sure knows how to improvise by now. Corpse deems that he’s rather good at it. He meets Tina in O2. She’s wandering around, running like a headless chicken. What if he took that expression a little too seriously? Alas, he can’t wrap his mind around the idea of the unforgivable and she escapes his reach. Corpse’s nose wrinkles, better luck next time.

His fictional blood thirst gets stronger when he hops inside a vent and observes Rae’s red character doing her tasks. Corpse knows what comes next, it’s inevitable. A hint of excitement and nervousness hatch on his chest.

At the same time on the other side of the country, the ones you love are carrying a big cake to your table. It seems so silly and it leaves you slightly embarrassed that people are celebrating the fact that you were born but, somehow, you can’t forbid that smile to reach your ears.

When you look at the cake, a snort escapes your control. Your friends drew a glazed picture of you but you find yourself hoping that there isn’t much resemblance between that Picasso-ish designed cake and your actual face. I mean, except for that particularity your face displays; eyes that don’t match in colors, one green and one hazel, it really just looks like a kid's doodle.

23, what a weird number. It doesn’t sit quite right with you for some reason. 22 is fine, same goes for 24 but 23 … Somehow, it feels like something is either missing or too much. You’re not too sure which one it could be.

The warmth that emanates from the candles is sweet and tickles your chin softly and everyone is singing along the most disastrous birthday wishes. You’re preparing for your wish. What could you need more? You’re a faceless horror narrator on youtube and life is just about good. I mean, there really isn’t much to complain about and that should be enough.

Your mind drifts off for a second, contemplating what the dream life could be about while one of your friends is already complaining about wax getting all over your glazed face. You could wish for material things but they come and go and their meaning is only ephemeral, maybe 23 is about getting more than that.

Ah, found it. You close your eyes. May I find the place where I truly belong. 23 candles are blown in one breath, not a bad performance.

That’s when the candle on Corpse’s desk starts shining a delicate and orange shade.

Corpse doesn’t notice it at first, too impregnated by his hunt, but when the unusual warmth finally informs him of the merry event, he wrestles to keep his mind into the game. His virtual character stands motionless for a second as he mutes his mic and takes his headphones off.

Fuck, not now please.

Somewhere, a new version of the love of his life turned 23. His mind drifts off, wandering near this idea as his eyes meet the flame.

It’s been hundreds of years and that fucking candle kept you hostage of his mind. Because Corpse couldn’t forget about you, he built those walls to provide you from slipping away, from invading too much of his busy mind. It was a compromise he made with himself so he couldn’t reach you entirely and, therefore, miss you completely. Yet, your rebirth leaks through the pores of his brain and past the fences no matter how hard he tries.

Corpse battles to breathe, he tries to get his mind back on the game but somehow his throat is already filling with a dangerously acidic concoction. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice immediately the way his fingers start shaking at a painstaking rhythm.

He moves his character around. Left and right. It’s mechanical and meaningless, nothing but a lost cause. Corpse clenches his grip around the mouse, hoping that the unsteadiness would pity him. How much longer can he carry that feeling? It sits on his shoulders and his chest. It tests out his patience, his own resistance to pain.

“Corpse!” Rae shouts wholeheartedly, rooting him out of his spiral. “Where are you?!”

Fuck; he has no ounce of idea of what is happening in real life, too busy going down this familiar and intimate loop once more. He swallows it all, praying that you would spare him some earned mercy. You’re always so cruel, unabashedly sneaking in and taking over his space despite all his efforts.

“I-huh- I’m in medbay, I have scan," he bluffs, hoping that no one would notice the way his voice cracks at the end.

Because if anyone did, he would have to admit that he’s not okay, that he never was and doubts that he ever will be. Just as if conceding the facts would’ve allowed him to feel how flourishing his despair was. There’s this knot inside his throat. It’s painful and he’s so tired. How many times was he left crawling on his bathroom’s floor when his heart fractured a little deeper? He misses you every fucking day but each rebirth brings back more and more longing.

He would love to abandon himself to the aching pleasure of this unsolicited reminiscence but he knows that if he did, you would possess him wholly and never give him back. You plague his mind like a mist that grows thicker and thicker on his lungs. It diffuses everywhere and intoxicates what’s left of him.

“Sure sleepy but that’s bullshit,” Tina whines. “We know it’s Corpse. He’s been sus’ the entire round!”

“He said he had scan, right?” Sean interferes, believing that Corpse is the jester. “Why don’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

They’re all waiting for Corpse to step in, to defend himself but he’s no longer here, too busy trying to swallow the emotions that are leaking all over the place. It gnaws him alive, piece by piece and it hurts so fucking much. Will it ever stop?

Silence is convenient, “I voted” badges get pinned on everyone’s chest. His black character falls into the lava, what an ironic metaphor.

“Sorry guys, something came up and I gotta go.” He finally says, hurry in his voice. He doesn’t try to hide it. In fact, he can’t.

“Are you s…” Rae’s voice gets cut abruptly when Corpse quits the call without further notice.

Corpse knows what’s next, when his head gets overcrowded by feelings and his heart too empty. It’s ugly, it’s messy and oh how he wishes it would be different this time.

The room is spinning from the crumbs of your sweet face and the trickle of your voice that drips through his ears as if you were still here. He clings onto that distorted and stained picture as if it was the ultimate proof that you were real. Were you even real once ? Remembering feels like repeating a word over and over again: with time, it loses its meaning. It wasn’t you he remembered, Corpse figured it out a long time ago. You weren’t there anymore.

The thought of it drives him crazy. He wishes he could get rid of that fucking candle, constant reminder of your rebirth away from him, constant reminder of the defeat he has to endure every time you turn 23 and you’re still not by his side. He has been looking for you everywhere for hundreds of years, from the biggest capitals to the most secluded parts of this world, without a single hint of your existence. You’re his greatest failure and he can’t, he won’t stand that.

Corpse grabs the candle and it collides with the floor with a thud that tangles with his raw voice. His chest moves heavily. It's scattered and in discord and there is this distorted gaze on his face when he remembers that the candle cannot be shattered. It’s this unsolicited spark of self-awareness that brings him closer to reality. Fuck. What the fuck is he doing? Corpse finally lost his damn mind. His hands wander uncontrollably in his hair and he looks around frantically for a second, trying to remember how to survive.

Corpse’s head is pressuring him, rushing him to turn off his computer and spill the words that are stuck on the back of his tongue on a piece of paper. That grip is unforgivable and unclear but he starts writing as if it was the only thing left to do, maybe it is. It feels like survival instinct at this point, it feels like the last attempt to collect the pieces of himself you left behind.

Dear you,

Happy birthday, wherever you are in this world. Another letter is about to join the pile. How many are there already? I wouldn’t know. I stopped counting since it made me sick.

As every time, I hope it’s the best birthday you have ever had. I remember the twenty-third birthday we spent together as if it were yesterday. I can no longer recall the way your eyes wrinkled under your bright smile or the sound of your echoing laughter but I do remember that warm feeling inside my chest, the pain in my cheeks from laughing with all my heart. How pleasant was it to be able to live it all with you? To be able to embrace you, to breathe you, to see you. Forgive me, my love, for I am no longer capable of picturing anything of you. I wish I could. I wish I could be haunted by a proper ghost, at least, and not just a glimpse of the range of emotions that animated me when you were by my side. All I can remember now is that you felt like a firework and that my eyes never met a prettier human. It’s so truly unfair to think about the fact that no one matters as much as you still do.

I am drifting off, am I? I always tend to do that in those letters. I hope you’re doing well, I really do. Did you spend your birthday with the ones who love you? I hope you’re happy and healthy. It’s the only important thing, or at least that’s what I have learned so far.

I hate those letters, they make me realize how lonely I am. Somehow, it feels like I’m expecting an answer that is never going to arrive.

Fuck. My skin aches from the lack of your touch. I miss you so fucking much. Just tell me what to do. I tried everything and you’re still stuck inside my brain. I’m a sorcerer for fuck’s sake, one of the most powerful beings to have ever existed and yet the concept of one single human defeats me day after day, rebirth after rebirth. I’m a fucking shame for my kind. I hate you. I love you so very much. Happy birthday.

Yours truly, Corpse Husband

The paper is stained by the storm that has been building up in Corpse's mind for hours. The letters are deformed now. Look at the mess you just made. He throws the letters away, where he can no longer see it and brings his knees to his chest, resting his head between his legs. He feels like screaming one more time but he’s choking. Sweet and sore agony grips his throat as his veins are burning with thick poison.

Don’t be fooled, Corpse would have been able to cast a spell or two to forget about your existence and spare himself a bit. Yet, it would only erase the last proof he had of you, not his feelings. He would have to bear the burden of a quest he could no longer figure out. He would be left longing for something that no longer existed. As if it wasn’t the case already. He wishes he could sleep, life would be so fucking easier if he could just fall asleep.

A few days have passed since your birthday. The thread between days and nights is thin and confusing and the candle on Corpse’s desk is still radiating with as much energy as the first day.

Corpse’s head is heavy, aching, he wonders if he could still carry it on his shoulders if he wasn’t lying on his bed. That sore body feels like it has been drained from an eagerness that has been growing for too long. Corpse groans, trying to figure out what’s sheets and blankets and what’s limbs, living up to the name he chose for himself.

Every ray of the sun is burning his skin. It leaves his body smelling like heat, he doesn't like that smell. Now, he could just get up and draw the curtains but that laziness is as weary as infiltrated. If only it could rain, maybe it would soothe his nerves and his growing migraine.

After a few minutes of silent fulminations, Corpse finally unlocks his phone and opens his texts one by one just to ignore them. He’s curled up on himself, as if a compressed version of his darkness could help in order to block the light. Sorcerers are supposed to be tied with nature, with every ray of the moon and the sun. His bond with the sun is molded, if not completely doomed to grow untie. Corpse is a sorcerer like no others and that goes without saying.

One text captures his breath and his attention, bringing back some interest into the numbness. It’s coming from you, y/n. Or at least, the “you” from this present life. The “you” who isn’t aware of the past and the “you” Corpse doesn’t know is the one he has been looking for during eternity.

In this life, the two of you aren’t close enough to be friends -and he would never let you take that role- but, by the time of your first Twitter interaction -which consisted of you tweeting emo Sykkuno with tattoo pictures and Corpse replying with a meme that said "If life is a simulation please turn it off", Corpse knew you should be near him at all time. Not too close for you to actually be able to touch him but definitely not too far. It’s peculiar but something that has to be felt, not explained; a primitive hunch so loud it couldn’t be unheard.

His mind is awake again. The plan for today, which consisted of him rotting in his bed, seems compromised right now. Corpse turns to lay on the left side of the bed, where the sheets are cooler. His brows furrow and he sighs heavily as he rubs his eyes with his thumbs.

Corpse really doesn’t know why he’d feel that way in the first place for someone like you. You always seem so organic, radiating, so free in the way you choose to exist. He envies you for being so authentic when all he can afford to do is remain hidden, where no light can really reach him if not to draw a faint shape of his being. No harsh feelings though, it’s just the way he feels about anyone who doesn’t sound fake. There is still a bit of remaining endearment in the way Corpse’s words are thrown at you, you just have to know what to look for.

Now, Corpse trades his horror narrator's advices against some social media help. Those things are bigger than him, he’s too old for that anyway. You think the way he still uses symbols as emojis is charming -no one does that anymore- but Corpse just can’t keep up with today’s slang and way of showing emotions via texts. Kids these days are just too creative with the way they express themselves.

[Hello, Mr Sorcerer, hope you’re doing good. I need your help on something.]

Huh.

He meets your words and his mind gets coated in sweat, frozen blood preventing the next heartbeat from happening. Who told you?

Corpse can’t wrap his mind around the fact that his most precious secret is being exposed with that much negligence. He can count on his fingers the number of people who are aware of his true nature, half of them are actually other magical beings of some sort. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

His head is hammered by thoughts. He thinks he’s screwed, that everyone will know. He can already foresee what is about to come. That’s why there is a bit of fear in the way his eyebrows are arching. His alerted mind screams for him to just throw his phone across the room but his fingers, covered in panic, are faster. The first text he sends is not directed to you, but to Sykkuno, his familiar.

Familiars are to sorcerers what assistants are to magicians. In short -but not limited to- a massive help.

Corpse’s link with Sykkuno transcends the law of words and thoughts. They just understand each other and the way they do, without even having to see each other, is just something that has to be witnessed once in a lifetime. It’s a sort of energy that travels through space, a special connection. It's light and invisible but leaves a warm trail on its way.

However, what doesn’t transcend their bond is the concept of time zone -which Corpse forgot about for a second. Sykkuno is probably asleep right now. Corpse’s panic takes back its race once he realizes he’s on his own and he types:

[Haha, very funny. You know, if you wanted to talk, you just had to say hi :)]

Denial, that will do the trick, right? You can’t be that persistent. Or at least that’s what Corpse hopes when he leaves his phone on an unstable balance on his forehead, waiting for an answer he hopes would spare his mind from yet another issue he has to take care of.

[I knew you’d say that but don’t worry, I promise I won’t snitch,] you reply, lips twitching under a sly smile. [I’m way too afraid of you cursing me or something.]

[Who told you shit like that anyway?]

[I just know someone.]

His expression hardens, that head keeps throbbing harder and harder by the minute. You’re so impetuous and it turns him into an impatient and choleric fog. The topic is too important, crucial and it shows how you truly have no idea what you’re talking about when you act as recklessly as you do.

[Some crazy folk told you about magic and you believed them, huh? Thought you were smarter than that.]

[Dream would be pretty upset if he knew you called him “some crazy folk”.]

Corpse stares numbly at his screen before sitting back on his bed, pulling away from his vision the curly strands that fell down. He throws a bunch of silent curses at the sun which is still attacking him, if not even more now. He types a few words but erases them in a snap, repeating the process once or twice more. Now he has to send another text, this one is for Dream : “we need to talk.”

What a weird day.

Questions, Corpse has so many of them but he can’t stop shaking his head with confusion. He had no idea you knew Dream. Why would Dream reveal something so critical as Corpse’s identity? Why would another sorcerer send you his way? That’s not how things are done unless it’s something they deem they wouldn’t be able to handle and there’s really a few things Dream wouldn’t be able to do. Corpse hesitates for second, fingers fidgeting in the air. He doubts that he would ever be capable of doing something Dream can’t do but does it really matter when, right now, you’re holding information you should never be holding in the first place?

[Feeling like trading secrets under the full moon?] You outbid. It’s always so tempting to tease Corpse when he sounds like a grumpy old man.

[A sincere fuck you.]

[That’s very rude, Mr Sorcerer.]

The way you avoid providing any sort of explanation grows in his mind like weeds that need to be ripped off. Really, from all the good timing in the world, you had to choose the worst one. But there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips when he does the math and realizes that, if you wanted to use that secret to your advantage, you would have done it by now. A slow relief that softens his headache. Also, Corpse is well aware that, as annoying as you can get, he can’t refuse you a thing.

[Fine, tell me what you need.]

[So I keep seeing the same number again and again and your name keeps appearing in my head at random times. Still don’t get the correlation but I know there is one. I wanna know the number’s meaning and how I can get rid of you.]

Corpse huffs, he’d like to know that himself. He’s about to laugh it off when he reads the text one more time. Something about it is mysterious enough to pique his curiosity. You mentioned his name, it bothers him. Not that he doesn’t appreciate you thinking about him but because it sounds odd enough to be something related to magic in one way or another. There’s this mix of excitement and apprehension that fills the pit of his stomach and now half of a smile is embellishing his lips. This buzzing sound in his brain, maybe it’s the final signal that he should start practicing magic again, the final signal his life will feel thrilling again.

[Call you in 5. This is a consultation by the way, I’m not doing this for free.]

[Fine, you rat.] You answer with a victorious smile.

Corpse’s words linger in the air. It’s smooth like velvet -you could almost touch it if you pictured it hard enough- and it’s soothing in some way. It’s deep mumbles and bits of light chuckles and a little magic. You’re spinning slowly on your chair, playing with strands of your hair. There’s a different tone in Corpse’s voice. He sounds tired and it’s mixed with something else you can’t really pinpoint. For the best or the worst, that, has yet to be determined.

“So.” Corpse says, bringing you back to reality. “What’s that number you were talking about?”

“Right. So, I keep seeing the number 5 everywhere. I wake up at 5:55 every morning. When my eyes are looking at the clock, it’s 5:55PM and it extends to absolutely everything.” You faintly slap your palm against your thighs in exasperation.

Corpse is silent for a moment as he tries to collect the bits of knowledge that are still hanging here and there inside his mind. As he expected, the pressure below his left eyebrow makes it hard to think. He really doesn’t get why Dream wouldn’t be able to take care of a matter that sounds so frivolous. It feels like the most important piece of the puzzle is missing , the one that makes the whole picture makes sense.

“Okay, this is not really my specialty but the number 5 is an interesting angel number.” Corpse hums. The word “specialty” echoes. Dream talked about that once and somehow, that’s how you finally realized that Corpse was, indeed, a sorcerer. Not that you wouldn’t believe the information in the first place but there’s a remarkable difference between learning and experiencing. What would be his specialty then?

Dream introduced you to this new veil a couple of months ago and you never fully believed in it before getting involved. Maybe that’s why you never talked about it to anyone. Even now, your skeptical nature always finds its way back to you. He said all sorcerers had specialties and that his was clairvoyance. You don’t really know what that means but you wouldn’t ask too much. Knowledge seems like a curse in that field, or at least that’s what you have learned from Dream’s distressed tone when he talked about the past. He always sounded like a broken record, a little out of tune, as if his soul was still partially stuck back there and maybe that’s why Corpse always sounded that way too.

“Do you believe in guardian angels?” You raise an eyebrow, high voice brimming with confusion.

“Do you?” Corpse pauses, you’re silent for a couple of seconds and he realizes that he won’t get an answer to that. “The number 5 is your guardian angel trying to tell you that things are about to change in your life. In fact, it means that the process already started.”

“You’re kinda scaring me though,” you say as you readjust your sit, nose wrinkling under an almost grimace. You don’t like it, you don’t like their world. It’s not yours, you’re only a human with a mere life and an almost mere job. Sometimes, you hate Dream for letting you on this secret you were now forced to keep. It always felt so two faced.

“You don’t have to be scared, the change is only gonna benefit you.” Corpse’s voice is soft and the way you can tell he believes in the words he is speaking is almost as surprising as reassuring. You can’t help it, you don’t like change. The unknown is called that way for a reason and maybe this reason is the explanation for why it needs to remain that way.

“Sure,” you coy. “What do I do about you? That’s what really interests me.”

He scoffs. Trust me, that’s what interests him the most as well. Yet Corpse knows no answer to that. He hesitates for a second and his eyes wander into the void. Should he let you know that he doesn’t have a clue, that it somehow scares him as much as it intrigues you? It feels like his broken sorcerer ego would crack even more if he did. Maybe he just had to find out before letting you know.

“Are you obsessed with me, y/n?” Corpse winces. Why would he have to travel through sarcasmland(™) to escape the question? His eyes go wide for a second, flickering on corners of his empty room. It’s only fair that he would tease you like you tease him, right?

“You’re just being annoying now,” you mumble, cheeks flushing in a vivid tint of pink and Corpse snorts.

Corpse almost forgot about himself for a second, about that damn candle, but it hits him once the conversation fades away and the static silence is the only thing left. So he gets up, grunts in complaint rooted out by sore muscles, turns his computer on and plays some rain sounds. The melody of droplets hitting the ground is reminding him how to breathe.

“Rain sounds, huh,” you whisper. “You like those.”

Corpse hums and the two of you are left listening to the rain. It tickles your ears pleasantly, so you close your eyes and relax in the back of your chair for a moment. It’s a beautiful disharmony if you really pay attention, just like Corpse is. You feel like the conversation is about to end, you don’t want him to hang up just yet.

“Corpse?” Your voice trails for a second and Corpse hums again. “Why did you decide to be faceless?”

“What did Dream answer to that question?” His tone is interesting, a bit higher than it probably should have been. What came up as conversation modalities turns into a piqued interest.

“He never answered me," you mumble.

“So people like you can’t take advantage of our nature in real life too,” he lies and you can tell by the half chuckle that travels with the answer.

You know you won’t get more from him, way less than you wish you did. Those faceless sorcerers always leave you hanging. They let you in on their little Hannah Montana life but never bear the consequence that is this endless and flowing well of questions. The rain rings heavily through your ears. It’s time for the call to end.

"Goodbye, Mr Sorcerer,” you sing before hanging up.

When the darkness finally surrounds Corpse, he slips into a strange place that greets him with a familiar smell; vanilla and freshly cut grass. The birds are singing. He takes a long inspiration, his body knows before he does. Corpse looks around, trying to let the image of the surrounding setting sink in.

That place seems oddly familiar, yet totally new; a kitchen made of golden wooden walls. It's decorated with an old and distinguished taste. The wooden table is dressed with a pretty blue and red tablecloth. Vases of fresh flowers displayed on parts of the kitchen, dried herbs hanging above the sink in front of the window. It’s dipped in sunlight, too bright to be real. The rays of light are swaying with the shadows of branches which are dancing outside with the wind. Corpse doesn’t mind the light for once, he even closes his eyes for a second to let every pore of his body get soaked in it. God, did he miss that place.

“Honey, I was waiting for you.”

Corpse’s heart jumps a little before clutching harder. He knows who’s here, he knows it’s his unforgettable love and the idea makes him almost want to never open his eyes again. He can feel it, the profound kindness and sweet smiles that are surrounding you like it always have and it makes his eyes burn with tears that are ready to trail down his cheek, sobs jostling inside his throat. Corpse wishes he could just cover you in embraces and kisses but he can’t, he can never do that in those dreams.

Corpse tries his hardest not to let the frustration immerse him in bitterness by controlling his breathing which could get carried away at any moment now. He finally swallows it all to look at you. There’s a significant disappointment on his face when he realizes yours is as blurry as always. He wishes he could just witness this beauty one more time. He doesn’t remember what your face looks like, you’re not real. It’s nothing but a dream and you’re not here.

“I made some cookies for you.” The ghost of you says as it points out a chair that seems to have appeared out of nowhere, inviting him to take a seat as it does the same. “Those are your favorite, remember?”

With a voice sweeter than honey, so bewitching, Corpse’s body works on its own and mimics your gestures. His eyes are frozen on your silhouette. He tries to remember the shades and colors that were once painted on your face. If only he could remember.

“Did you redecorate our kitchen?” Corpse asks as he takes a bite of the cookie.

“Did I?” Your past self wonders out loud. “It’s been so long, I can’t tell.”

The treat tastes as good as it always has, Corpse takes another bite. The silence in the kitchen is delicate, contemplative. Outside, the weather is lovely; white clouds floating above the endless and bright green meadows. Corpse tries to take everything he can from that dream, from the peacefulness he feels now deep inside, and the perfume of your skin, to the sweet voice that caresses his ears. If Corpse could stay here forever, he would.

“Why are you here, my love?” You suddenly ask, forcing Corpse’s attention which he refuses by looking away.

“I wonder if the wind is warm or cool outside, maybe I should check.”

Corpse knows what happens every time you visit his dreams : you end up asking this question, he answers and suddenly he’s alone and you vanished into thin air. The response is always the same; because I miss you. It leaves him feeling lonelier than ever, craving a presence he can no longer be blessed with. Just a little bit longer, please. He blinks rapidly to expel the few tears that are forming in his eyes, so the knot inside his throat wouldn’t become more unbearable than it already is. Corpse is left feeling so desperate and helpless.

In a precipitation he almost can't control, he gets up and walks towards the door. He just wants to feel the wind on his skin. Please, just a bit longer. Corpse is almost at the door when his eyes deform with stupor under the pressure of a hand that grabs his sleeve. His heart stops, he was never able to touch you in a dream before. What changed? There’s a moment of hesitation before his eyes travel from your hand, to your arm, to your neck, to your face and he can no longer swallow his emotions when he dives into your eyes. Your eyes, he can see them.

When Corpse wakes up, wiped out of his dream, his breath is short and sweat pearls down his forehead. He’s in a rush, he remembers something about your face, something important. He knows what to look for now; your eyes, your irises. They don’t match in color. The left is green, the right has a pretty hazel color.

☾ A/N : Welcome on this new AU my friends I’m so excited to have you here with me on this new journey! I hope you liked the first chapter. A big thank you to @moontwinkles for beta reading the chapter and being a big help 💗 How are we feeling about this? Faceless leo men being sorcerers and familiar Sykkuno??? Idk I’m a little too passionate about it. Don’t worry the next chapter won’t be as angsty as this one but I needed to express my thrist for angst lmao anyway let me know what you think! Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

☾ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 *OPEN* : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @lochness-butmakeitsexy ; @bizarrebibitch ; @bellomi-clarke ; @ladybismuth ; @katyasrussianaccent ; @satanhauntedourcats ; @owl-llie ; @teenloves ; @notannis ; @mcntsee ; @rottenroyalebooks ; @peachdoppi ; @mirahg ; @foxxtrot-116 ; @koi-soi ; @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker ; @butterfly-skinnylegend ; @fanworrior ; @stickystrawberrysyrup ;

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse x you #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fic #corpse husband AU #the sorcerer #platonic!dream

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in-tua-deep · 3 years

Note

au where five found out about vanya's powers in the apocalypse? Like maybe he found Reggie's book or he saw the eyes of vanya's corpse?

oh man like. that would be interesting to be sure, if Five managed to find Reginald’s book in the apocalypse

(He doesn’t read it at first, not for a few months after he finds it. He opened to the page that detailed Reginald’s experiments with how long Deigo could hold his breath in clinical unfeeling words and has to put it away while he breathed - not too deeply though, he didn’t want to breathe in more ash than necessary)

But he eventually does. He sits Dolores up and rages and vents to her, cursing Reginald’s name with every new sordid detail, every new terrible sin he now knows to hurl at Reginald’s feet. He reads no great loss under his section and he’s too dehydrated to weep but something breaks inside his chest nevertheless

(He’d never thought that dad loved them, not really. He might have hoped, back when he was little but he knew better now. He was thirteen, old enough to know better. But he’d at least thought that dad found them useful.

Five had tried to hard, trained so much, been so adaptable. Even then he was no great loss.)

Five finds out from Reginald’s book about Ben’s death. Cold words that describe the way his brother died. Reginald seemed to care more about Ben’s death than Five’s presumed death, but that could be becuase Ben’s power was always bigger than Five’s. More violent. More efficient. Of course Ben was a greater loss, Five’s power wasn’t even inherently useful for fighting.

(Klaus’s power wasn’t useful for fighting either. Reading Dad’s dismissive words calling Klaus a failure makes him bristle. Reading about Reginald locking Klaus away in the mausoleum for days make Five want to hurl the book against the wall.)

Finding out about Vanya is - it’s weird. Vanya was always so ordinary. He loved her of course, for fucks sake he was the only one who cared to interact with her half the time. He loves all of his siblings but he has no illusions about how casually cruel they could be to one another.

But he reads about her powers and clenches his fists and wonders what Reginald would have done if Five had stayed, if Five had kept on his path of rebellion. Would Reginald have drugged him, too?

(Reginald had the power to take their powers away. Five wonders what Klaus thought when he found out, if he had cursed and sworn and raged at the man who watched his son suffer and turn to drugs to deal with seeing things no child should ever see. Reginald had the power to help, and he tortured Klaus instead.)

Because - of course Five assumes that they know. He reads Vanya’s books as well when he comes across it, tucking it into his wagon. He wonders when the truth came out, because the rage that drips from those pages is very real. Vanya doesn’t mention her powers in the book of course, but she would have been what, in her 20s when she wrote it?

Vanya said in her book that she left home at 18, which means she’s had years to get the drugs out of her system and discover what their father had taken from her. Did she think that they knew? That they had kept it from her? Is that why the pages of her book drip with bone deep hurt, making Five’s fingers shake with the ache of them

(Or it could be the hunger, a now constant companion)

Five keeps both books close, even though he wants to vandilize Reginald’s book half the time. It’s strange to see the insight on them and their powers from the perspective of a scientist, odd to see the written results of the torture they went though

(He almost rips the page on the effects of electricity on his warping powers out on principle, but he just ends up curled around Dolores as he trembles involuntarily at the memories)

Five has so few belongings when he is recruited to the Commission, or at least has very few personal ones. He leaves Dolores behind in the apocalypse with a heavy heart but she’s too big to take with him. Too big to hide.

(Five always learned to only take what you can hide, because what you can’t hide will always be used against you.)

He tucks Reginald’s notebook in the waistband on his pants, the hard edges against his back a constant almost reassuring pressure. Vanya’s book gets pushed into one of his deep pockets. The glass eye gets shoved into his sock the same way he used to hide scavenged bills and quarters he would then place beneath the floorboards of his room

(He wonders absently if his money stash was ever found, but it doesn’t really matter now does it?)

He goes through the Commission with the knowledge that he has a bomb hidden away. As much as he keeps the notebook around out of a sense of sentiment he knows he doesn’t want it to fall into the hands of the commission, doesn’t want them to have this dissection of his powers on hand

(he has so little of his siblings left, just the bitter words of Reginald and Vanya both - the irony is that no matter how much Vanya extolled being excluded she had constantly been by Reginald’s side to write down observations, listening to his words, by his side more than any of them. sometimes he reads Vanya’s vicious words and hears the echo of their father in them. It makes sense. He still hates it, just a little bit)

He writes his equations into Vanya’s book instead of Reginald’s. He doesn’t like to read the red book, only opens it to look at the photos included so that he won’t forget what his siblings look like, tries to ignore the words that detail exactly how much force it takes to pop Luther’s bones out of his oh-so-durable joints

He solves them one day, or at least comes close. Closer than he ever had before, and he figures why not? Time for another little experiment. Who knows? Maybe he’ll add this one to dad’s book.

He pushes, and pushes, and then he falls and he’s in a courtyard he hasn’t seen in decades staring at people he hasn’t spoken to in just as long. He looks at them all with wide eyes

(He looks at Allison and hears his father’s clipped tone stating how Allison in improving at overriding survival instincts, he looks at Luther and hears Vanya’s childish voice accusing him of caring more about being a hero than anything else in his life, including his family, he looks at Klaus and sees a face covered in ash and blood with unseeing eyes)

He looks down at himself and sees smaller hands with smoother skin, absent of the burn marks from the variety of fires he’d set in the apocalypse, absent of the crooked knuckles from when he’d crushed two fingers in some rubble trying to get to a can of food, absent of the cracked and brittle nails from malnutrition and food issues

“Shit.” He says, with feeling.

He can feels the press of the glass eye against his leg, the solid weight of Vanya’s book in his pocket, the edges of Reginald’s notebook digging into his skin as he hauls himself off the ground and into a standing position.

They have a family meeting in the kitchen.

Sort of. Five flits about, snagging bread and peanut butter and marshmallow fluff from the cupboard to make himself a sandwich, trying to avoid looking too desperately eager. He hasn’t had his favorite food in so long that the anticipation is actually insane.

“What’s the date?” Five asks, and learns that he doesn’t actually have all that long until the end of the world. But hey, it’s doable. Probably. Unless the reason the world ended was like, political nuclear war or something? But there would probably be survivors of that somewhere, so it was more likely something bigger scale.

(It has to be something he can stop, or this was all for nothing. He refuses to believe he doesn’t have a chance.)

“Cool, so like, the world is ending.” Five says, because why the fuck not? He has all his siblings in one room (except Ben, he has failed Ben, will always have failed Ben because he’s a coward who couldn’t return to a time when Reginald Hargreeves was alive) and he has Reginald and Vanya’s words pressed into his brain, “We have eight-ish days to fix that.”

“Five, what the hell are you talking about?” Luther demands.

Five waves his hand, “Dad sucked, I time-travelled, the end is nigh. I figured even you could grasp that.”

(His eyes ghost over Luther, skittering about the room. He can’t look at Luther’s body without remembering the cruel diagrams pain stakingly inked into the book as Reginald grumbled about failed experiments.)

“You went to the future?” Diego says, voice full of doubt that make his voice harsh. It’s so much deeper than when Five left, no more of the cracks of puberty.

“No shit.” Five says, and he’s so tired. “I was in that hellscape for forty-five years.”

“Forty-five years?” Diego squawks, as though he’s personally offended.

“That would make you... fifty-eight?” Luther’s voice also has doubt in it, and Five can’t really blame him looking at his squishy little barely teenage body.

“Dad was right,” Five manages to get out without gritting his teeth, “Time travel is a crapshoot and sometimes your body does fun and wacky things on you, blah blah blah trees and acorns.”

“Prove you’re from the future!” Klaus demands, eyes bright as he leans across the table, “What’re the lotto numbers, baby brother?”

“I think they’re ‘fuck you the world had already ended by the time I ended up stuck there,’ Klaus.” Five says, mock thoughtfully before tearing off a chunk of his sandwich.

It tastes like ash and peanut butter. Only Five’s genuine trauma regarding food waste and the fact that most things tasted like ash in the apocalypse have him still chewing his food and swallowing.

“Rude.” Klaus says, making a ‘blat’ noise in disappointment.

“Dad’s rich as fuck, wasn’t him kicking the bucket essentially like winning the lottery?” Five points out, and this time it is Luther squawking at him in disapproval.

“Don’t talk about Dad like that!” He demands, and Five has some more uncharitable thoughts about the way Luther’s arms flex just a little unnaturally underneath that big trenchcoat.

“I like this version of Five better.” Klaus declares, looking like Christmas has come early.

“Dad was murdered and you guys don’t even care.” Luther spits out, looking very offended.

“You were murdered and I care very much about that.” Five retaliates, and the entire kitchen goes quiet.

“Can you elaborate a little, Five?” Allison says, ever the diplomat.

(That’s a lie. Allison started more fights than Diego, probably. She just got caught way less often.)

“Well. I mean, I dunno if murdered is the right word considering everyone was dead. You might have just been collateral damage, who knows? Does murder imply intent?”

“Everyone was dead?” Vanya says, voice very quiet.

Five shrugs, then nods, then shrugs again. He doesn’t like thinking about it. “Yeah, but that’s not going to happen this time.”

“I don’t have time for this nonsense.” Luther mutters, and Five valiantly tries to ignore him.

“Five, are you - are you sure you’re alright?” Vanya’s voice wobbles and she looks like she wants to reach out and hold him or something ridiculous like that. She looks at him with big sad brown eyes, “Dad did say that time travel could... mess with you a little.”

Allison nods and oh, Five does not have time for this bullshit.

“I have proof.” He says, and he reaches back and pulls out Reginald’s red notebook and slams it onto the table.

“Is that Dad’s - ” Luther cuts himself off, looking at the notebook with wide eyes.

It is very clearly beaten up to hell and back. Ash has stained the edges of the pages grey and there may or may not be a gouge across the front from a near miss with a bullet while working at the commission. It is a book that has clearly been through hell.

Five also dig’s Vanya’s equally beaten up book from his pocket to dump on the table as well, equally stained with ash and barely held together after being read over and over again for decades, including being used as a notebook in the final years.

(Vanya lets out a little gasp, hand flying up to her mouth with the knowledge that at least one of her siblings read her book. Certainly not the one she thought it would be.)

Five reaches into his sock to pull out the glass eye triumphantly, setting it down on his small stack of treasures.

“What the fuck?” Diego is the one to ask.

“If I time travelled from that day in 2002 to right now, how the fuck would I have Vanya’s book?” Five says triumphantly, “It came out in 2015.”

“Why do you have an eye?” Allison sounds slightly horrified.

“It’s the key to figuring out who caused the apocalypse.” Five says, turning it over in his hands, “It’s gotta have something to do with it at least.”

“Why does he have Dad’s notebook?” Luther demands, sounding equally outraged.

“Found it.” Five shrugs, like the little scavenger he is.

(Emphasis on little. His suit still almost fits, and reading the numbers in Reginald’s notebook versus seeing how fucking tall all his siblings got in person is frankly unfair.)

“Oh my god, okay.” Allison says, throwing her hands up in the air like they’re all nuisances. It’s a familiar Allison look, and Five actually feels a little soothed by the memory. “So the world is ending, Five is back from the dead, and our only clue is a goddamn eye?”

“I was never dead.” Five points out, “But basically, yeah.”

“I don’t have time for this, I have to get back to my daughter.” Allison says, shaking her head.

“I mean if you want Claire to live I would think stopping the apocalypse would kind of be a priority.”

This draw Allison to a halt from where she’d been gathering herself to leave, “You... know her name?”

Five makes the executive decision to not mention the torn out magazine cover featuring his sister and niece that is pressed between some of the pages in Reginald’s journal. “I’d like to meet her one day.”

Just like that, Allison has been won over.

“Do you think it has something to do with whoever murdered Dad?” Luther asks seriously, even if the question makes Diego groan like this is an argument they have had before.

“Who knows?” Five shrugs, “But if we’re splitting into investigation teams, I call Vanya.”

Vanya startles from where she has been sitting quietly, “Me?” She asks, eyes wide.

“Yeah.” Five nods, “I mean, with Ben gone you’re probably the team’s heaviest hitter.”

“What?” Several voices ring out in confusion.

Five blinks, a little confused himself. Unless - “Wait, did you never train your powers?”

“Five,” Vanya says slowly, like she’s explaining a simple concept to a particularly dim child, “I don’t have powers.”

This was - this was unexpected. Why did he not think of this explanation? It’s just - he has now known about Vanya’s powers for like way longer than he hasn’t. It’s almost second nature to think of Vanya as having powers by now. And she doesn’t know.

“Oh boy.” He says, picking up Reginald’s notebook, “This debriefing may take a bit longer than I first thought. Oh, and at some point we should probably cut the tracker out of my arm as well.”

“The what out of your what?”

Yeah the day doesn’t really get much better from there.

#the red book au #five finds reggie's journal in the apocalypse #and so he is very familiar with his sister's powers!! isn't that fun #he's also like 50% more spiteful because actually Fuck Reginald Hargreeves #he is the president of the Dad Sucks Club #because he has the notebook he's been essentially planning his apocalypse game plan for years #with the power of strategy and knowing his siblings powers inside out #or at least to the extent reggie understood them #so he's much more MISSION REPORT when he gets to 2019 #time to debrief the squad on what the fuck is up #five lets the cat out of the bag so early lmao #fuck u leonard #five: haha yeah i want vanya on my team so i can see her sick ass powers in action #the family: her WHAT #five: *surprised pikachu face*#five has spent so long in the apocalypse with dolores who knows what he is thinking #that he struggles with the concept that people don't know what he knows sometimes #me pointing at vanya's book and reginald's notebook: there are both traumatizing to read #Anonymous #long post #far tua long

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pxnk-velvet · 3 years

Text

𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑌𝑜𝑢

.・ ✧。.・゜✧・.・✧・゜・.・ ✧。.・゜✧・.

𝐾𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑜 2𝑛𝑑 𝑌𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

✧ summary :: How I think they’d comfort you if you’ve dealing with something stressful or you’re just aren’t feeling good.

✧ warnings :: sad reader 😔, a lil bit of angst if you squint

✧ pt. 1 || pt. 2 || pt. 3

.・ ✧。.・゜✧・.・✧・゜・.・ ✧。.・゜✧・.

☾ 𝑇𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑘𝑎

plssss tell him everything so he knows what to do to make you feel better

spill all the drama that’s going on

helps you in any way possible to solve whatever problem your dealing with

you wanna be alone??? Ok, he can wait in the other room until you’re ready

wanna take your mind off of things??? he’s there talking about the most random things ever

When you told Tanaka about what happened, of course he wanted to hear more. More on the situation, the drama, and how you were feeling about it all. All the while, you sat squarely in his lap, animated hands waving around as you continued.

Your facial expressions reflecting what you felt as his hands sat gently at your hips. It felt quite nicely, actually. To be held like this while being able to let everything out all at once. And by the tension and stiffness he sensed in your posture, he knew you needed a break.

Once you came to a stop with a heavy sigh, Tanaka piped up, “You look tired. Wanna go get something to eat?” He suggested with a sweet smile, sitting up and wrapping his arms around your waist. To which you smiled back with a nod, pecking his lips before heading out to grab a bite.

☾ 𝑁𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑜𝑦𝑎

like Hinata, he tries to make you smile or laugh in any way possible

mans can read you like an open book tbh

knows when you’re uncomfortable and just need a break from his energy

although he does feel a little guilty, he understands that you need your space sometimes

while you’re having your alone time, he’ll do simple things for you like do your chores or homework for you (to his best abilities ofc lol)

You sat on the couch, the overwhelming feeling that had been sitting with you all day, drilling into your chest as your eyes grew heavy. The fight with your best friend had taken a lot out of and Nishinoya saw that. He knew the second he saw you that you just needed a break today.

So on the walk to your house, he talked a little softer than normal and refrained to just walking by your side. When you guys arrived to your house and you plopped on the couch, he didn’t follow, giving you the space he knew you needed at the moment.

Instead he wandered off, finding himself in your room. A lone basket of clothes sat in the corner of your room, a sticky note with “clean” etched on it sitting on top. And that’s when he got to work. Folding the clothes for you as best as he could. Even going so far as to putting them away for you as well.

☾ 𝐸𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑎

helps you by talking through the situation

while talking to you he’ll have you guys settle down somewhere where you guys can be comfortable sitting at for a while

has you say everything that’s on your mind to get your perspective on things

and if you’re in the wrong for whatever reason, he’ll tell you, obviously not in a harsh, rude way

in a way that helps you look at everything in a different way

The breeze rustled the tree leaves as you and Ennoshita sat underneath, leaning against the trunk as you both debriefed on what was going on. You sighed in frustration as you finished venting, eyes screwed shut.

“Y/n, look at me,” He took your face in his hands gently, guiding your eyes to his, “You’re being very one sided about this and I understand why. Your argument and feelings are completely reasonable. But you also have to consider how your friend is feeling, what they’re thinking too.” His words were smooth and soft as he spoke with caring eyes.

You sighed again, head falling into your hands as you thought about what he had said. He was right and you knew it. He truly did want to help you after all. And if having to correct you was going to do the trick then so be it.

.・ ✧。.・゜✧・.・✧・゜・.・ ✧。.・゜✧・.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu tanaka #haikyuu nishinoya #haikyuu ennoshita #tanaka ryuunosuke #tanaka x reader #nishinoya yuu #nishinoya x reader #ennoshita chikara #ennoshita x reader #tanaka headcanons #nishinoya headcanons #ennoshita headcanons #haikyuu blurbs

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stories-by-rie · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2 - Heart of Silver

Four years before Evelyn gets herself cursed, she meets Ariel for the first time; and a second time, featuring a stinky Mare.

words: 2665 || masterlist

It had all started in a club. It was a tiny one, close to the university, with mostly students working and partying there. For many, it was both a good way to earn a bit on the side, and to get the mind off nearing exams. The music was mostly pop, with some nichey songs in between, mixed in a way where no one could really complain.

For Evelyn, it simply was too loud. She could feel the bass in her heart. The room’s air was hot and heavy, and smelled like alcohol and sweat. People were screaming over the music, laughing, possibly also being aggressive.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

Mareike wrote, just leave, come over to mine instead, we’re having chocolate cake and watching old horror movies.

With a sigh, Evelyn typed her answer, I promised Kyla, I should at least stay a full hour. She held onto her first beer, but people pushed from all sides, so she slipped up anyway and felt the grip on her bottle lessen. Really, in such situations one had to set priorities, so she focused on the bottle, stumbled over someone else’s foot, and saw her phone fall to the ground. Over the loud noise, she didn’t hear it hit the ground, but she flinched nonetheless.

“Very sorry!” she yelled to whoever she had run into without even looking up, eyes on the ground. As she reached out to it, she saw her hand shaking slightly. Too much noise and too many people.

Her phone buzzed on the ground, the blue light showing her just where to reach.

“Broken?” A voice asked and when Evelyn looked at her phone, it indeed had a thin line running through the display.

“Just the display, I hope. Sorry, again.”

“No problem. You should have stuck with simple mobile phones, they don’t break that easily.”

Evelyn finally looked at the person who held a flip-phone in one of their hands, an alarmingly blue cocktail in the other that was only overshadowed by the bright blue of their hair.

“That’s so 2009,” was all Evelyn could say which was not a good thing for small-talk, but she blamed it on her anxiety or the alcohol.

“You don’t look like you want to be here,” the person said, tilting their head in a way that made the colourful lights reflect in their glasses for a moment.

“I really, really don’t want to be here.”

“Then why are you?”

“My… my friends are somewhere-” she pointed in the general direction of the dance floor where it was impossible to single out any familiar faces in the mass of dancing people.

“Ah,” was all the other said. For some reason, Evelyn was certain she was understood despite her stammering.

“I’m Evelyn,” she mumbled, ignoring the buzzing in her hand again. She wasn’t sure if she would meet the other again, if in any way exchanging names would matter. But she felt compelled to.

“Ariel. I use they/them pronouns, if you were wondering.”

Evelyn replied with a smile. She had been wondering.

“That’s a nice name.”

“Thanks, I chose it myself.” Ariel grinned and drank a bit of their cocktail.

And -- really, this could only be blamed on Evelyn’s anxious state paired with the alcohol -- she blurted out, “Ariel as in the Little Mermaid?”

Ariel nearly choked on their drink and shook their head. “Curses, no!” Even if they looked a bit amused and somewhat quieter, though enough to be heard, they added, “Ariel as in the Sylph in The Tempest by Shakespeare.”

Evelyn smiled and put the phone in her jeans pocket, held onto the bottle in her hand instead.

“Why are you here?” she then asked, even if it was probably a dumb question. Most people did come to party after all, but Ariel seemed to have come on their own and at least that was a bit unusual.

“I am glad you asked. I heard there’s a Mare living in the air vent in the restrooms. I came to kick it out.”

“By yourself?” Evelyn nearly dropped her beer again.

“Well, I hoped I would run into someone who is better with those creature thingies than me, but if this turns out to be fruitless, I am willing to drag the Mare out with my own hands.”

“Don’t do that! A Mare is much stronger than you and would cling to you instead! You would not even notice, just feel the pressure on your chest and suffer tremendously from bad dreams every night- that’s- that’s really not how you’re supposed to handle Mares!” Evelyn had spoked too fast, stumbled over her own tongue in haste to keep Ariel from making a mistake, and only now that she saw their -- victorious? -- grin, did she notice what she said. It felt as if she had walked straight into a trap.

“Sounds a bit like you know your fair share.” The way Ariel said it, they did not sound in the least surprised.

“You knew.”

“What are you in for again?”

“Psychology.” Evelyn took a step back, clutching her beer tighter.

Ariel followed her, narrowing their eyes. “Liar.”

“I studied Mythology and Mystical Practices before, but I didn’t graduate, so it doesn’t mean anything.”

“You still have the knowledge, though.” Ariel looked smug, sipping on their cocktail and Evelyn knew that they wouldn’t relent. But it really was not in her place to help.

“If there is a Mare in the vent, you should notify the building’s janitor, so that they can then call a company that specialises in this. The insurance might not cover the victims’ therapy if the whole situation isn’t handled following the book, so. Please, really, don’t mess with it. Sometimes it’s better to just leave these things alone.”

Nausea spread in her stomach. It was time to go. She really had indulged her friends for long enough, wherever they might be amusing themselves. Her heart beat in an unsteady rhythm, calling for sleep or distractions. She turned around, looking at the green exit sign, but Ariel kept talking.

“I already did notify the janitor, but he didn’t take me seriously. So I then contacted the owner, but he would not even talk to me. That’s why I decided to take the matter into my own hands and you will help me.”

“I absolutely will not.” The thought alone made her skin itchy, made the air in the club even harder to breathe. She looked down at her phone, several messages demanding to be read. She quickly unlocked it and opened the group chat.

I’ll head home, hope you still have some fun! Had a nice evening ^^

To Mareike’s messages of, r u home yet? just send an emoji that ur fine, she replied with a sparkles emoji.

“I’ll go,” she said, looking up to Ariel, but they were already gone. A hint of guilt crept into her bones – maybe she had been too harsh? But her heart beat so fast it made her cheeks feel hot, so she really needed fresh air. She put down her beer on a nearby table and fought her way through the sweaty bodies until she saw the night sky above her. The summer heat was not much better.

The second time she met Ariel was roughly two weeks after their first encounter, on campus during lunch time. Ariel was sitting – lounging – on a bench under some birches. The small leaves were barely enough to provide shelter from the staggering sun. Evelyn really just noticed them because their iced coffee fell right out of their hand, rolling all the way down to her feet.

“You lost something,” Evelyn said and held out the cup to them. She felt more than uncomfortable the longer she stood there, but she had started it now, maybe feeling still a bit guilty for the last time. The lid had kept most of the coffee inside but some of the cold and slightly sticky beverage still dripped down her fingers. Ariel pushed up their heart-shaped sunglasses, their own glasses underneath, and looked at the cup quizzically. Since they had last met, Ariel had gotten deep shadows under their red-rimmed eyes.

“You look awful,” Evelyn said, forgetting about the existence of her verbal filter.

“Thanks, it’s the exams.”

“What do you-”

“Doing my Masters in Curses.”

“That’s a thing?”

Ariel froze a bit and then mumbled, “I am sort of making it a thing?”

They finally took the iced coffee out of Evelyn’s hand, took off the lid, chugged it all at once and threw it into the bin next to the bench.

“Sounds very cool. And useful,” Evelyn mumbled and nearly missed how Ariel’s eyes shut again, only for them to flinch back awake. “You seem incredibly tired, though.”

“It’s the stress, don’t worry. It’s giving me bad dreams, is all.”

They looked each other in the eyes, communicating silently that they both knew that the other knew. It was Evelyn who finally broke it.

“You can’t be serious. You really went into that vent to get the Mare alone? You can’t just do that.”

Ariel just shrugged and let the sunglasses drop down again. “Well, actually I could. It wasn’t even hard. I just climbed from the toilet seat to the air vent – which is much smaller than it looks in movies, by the way – and crawled through it following the snoring sounds. Then I saw the Mare – which was the ugliest thing I laid sight upon so far, by the way – and hunted it through the maze. Just that I kinda lost it after ten seconds or so. I swear I could still hear it, but it was just too dark and I didn’t really think to bring a flash-light. Damn, it really scared the shit out of me, because I kept turning around? But there was nothing.”

“That’s because the Mare climbed onto your back and stuck to you then. I told you that would happen, but you didn’t listen. So of course you are tired now, you’re haunted by it.”

“Ah, right. You did say that.” Ariel rested their head on their hand and pouted. “That’s the bad dreams then.”

“Yeah. Mares eat good dreams, so you only have the bad ones, and more of them to fill the blanks.” Evelyn sat down next to them, a little helpless.

“I never have good dreams, though. Just weird ones. The kind where a giant slug comes and eats my master thesis and I give it strawberries as a thank. I miss the slug, I used to call it Bob.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at them, uncertain if they were being serious, joking, or if it was the lack of sleep.

“Well, maybe you will get lucky and the Mare will lose its sanity and leave you alone soon.”

“That can happen?”

“No.”

Ariel groaned and stretched, only to slump down again. “What do I do now?”

“Hire a company to get rid of it. Just know that no insurance company is gonna cover it, because you dragged the Mare into your bedroom yourself. You basically asked it to come inside.”

Ariel pulled a face and sighed heavily. “I can’t afford that. Can’t you come?”

“If you study curses, haven’t you covered mythological practices in your bachelor's too?”

“Not really. Just in theory. In more practical terms, I already only focused on curses back then. I want to be a curse-broker, so I never bothered with anything beyond ghosts. You seem to be able to, though. You never once mentioned that you wouldn’t be able to help me, just that you didn’t want to.”

Evelyn didn’t answer. They were right, of course. She had learnt everything she needed to know long before she had entered uni for the first time, growing up as the daughter of the owners of a company specializing on mythological creatures. Studying that at uni was supposed to only give her the licence to work in the field, she hadn’t gained new knowledge at any point.

“Have you ever considered that I might really suck at dealing with creatures? I might make the situation worse for you,” she then mumbled, staring at the blue sky behind the birch leaves. She said it barely loud enough to be understood.

“Do you?” Ariel worked through their bag and pulled out two lollies, offering one to Evelyn.

“No,” she replied truthfully. “I am really bad with curses, though.” She unwrapped the lolly and put it into her mouth. “Curses are more my sister’s expertise.”

Something in her voice must have betrayed her feelings. The hurt, the anger, the resentment. It was all she had to say to be understood. Ariel stayed silent for a long time as they sat on that bench, letting the lollies turn their tongues green. When lunch break was over, students walked over the campus to different buildings, but they stayed seated.

“She’s not dead, tho, is she? Wait! Did a Mare kill her?” Ariel then suddenly asked, their voice a bit shrill that it made Evelyn giggle.

“Nah, don’t worry. Mares aren’t high class enough to kill you. Maybe the after effect of the insomnia would in due time, but I don’t know many cases in which it went that far,” Evelyn explained and bit on the lolly stick after the sugar had dissolved inside her mouth. “My sister’s fine. She went abroad.” Evelyn then frowned as the trees’ shadows moved with the sun, the bright light blinding her now. They had sat there for a while. “To the USA. I haven’t seen her in a while, it’s been one and a half years.”

“You were close?” Ariel asked softly. Evelyn heard how they were more serious now.

“Yeah. I mean. I am pretty sure that I am always closer to people than they are to me. But we got along well. We were a good team. She got this really good research opportunity in Philadelphia though. It’s good she went.”

“But you still miss her.” Ariel handed her a new lolly with a grin and she accepted.

“Yeah, I do. Of course, I do.”

“Hm.” Ariel unwrapped their second lolly as well, eyes still droopy from their accidental nap. “Is she the reason you don’t go in the field anymore?”

“More or less,” Evelyn started, and the fear of oversharing hit her. But Ariel had asked, in some way at least. “After she left, I tried to make up for the gap she left behind. It did not work out well. I messed up this one job and no one got hurt, but it just reminded me that I was kinda raised into it all and it felt wrong so I left.”

“Huh. So you dumped your whole study subject?”

“Yeah. I worked without a license. My parents covered it all up, which just felt even more wrong. I should have had to face the consequences, or at least my parents. I should have gotten banned from field work anyway, so leaving was the only choice to make.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes. A bit.”

“I have just the thing. Back at home there’s a Mare that I can’t afford to kick out professionally. It’s kinda stealing my sleep.”

Without Evelyn noticing, they had come closer, a slightly mischievous grin on their lips. There really was no way to say no to them now. At some point she must have said something close to a yes, because Ariel was dragging her down the stairs towards the town and their apartment where the Mare occupied their bed. Evelyn wondered every now and then if all that conversation had been some detailed plan to lead her into that trap until she followed Ariel home to help them with the creature. But then again, she somehow had also followed Ariel into that new, quite weird friendship between them, so she did not actually mind that much.

----

previous chapter || WIP intro || masterlist || next chapter

#writeblr #novella #my writing #original fiction #fantasy #urban fantasy #ghosts #curses #wip; heart of silver #heart of silver chapter 2 #tw alcohol

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sir-subpar · 4 years

Text

Stay~ (Stickvin Oneshot)

*A Yandere Toppat Charles x Henry Stickmin Oneshot*

"Join the clan Henry~ No government or prison will even touch you, not if I have a say in it. You'll be safe with me, Henry, I promise. Just let me love you Henry, and stay."

Those were the words that Charles used to convince Henry to be on this airship. He knew Charles could be possessive, but he wasn't expecting him to be THIS possessive. Charles wouldn't let anyone near Henry, and he rarely left Henry alone. When there was a meeting, Charles had Henry in his lap. When Henry went to the restroom, Charles waited just outside the door. Charles had his arm wrapped around Henry most of the time, he barely gave Henry any privacy. It was driving him mad. Henry wasn't sure what to do. He liked Charles, he really did, but he needed space. So Henry ran and hid throughout the airship, hoping to just have a little bit of alone time. He managed to run off while Charles was in the shower, none of the other Toppats got in his way, they usually avoided Henry due to the fact that Charles got very angry when they were "too close" to him, and Charles wasn't afraid to hurt people for being so. He was a fine leader to the other Toppats when he had Henry with him, but when he didn't… he was frightening..

Henry crawled through the vents until he reached the airship's outdoor balcony. He just wanted some alone time. He felt the heavy wind whipping against his thin body as he watched the clouds pass by. Henry took deep breaths, savoring this moment of peace. He thought about Charles. Why did he love him? He had set off so many red flags he might as well just be a red flag made of other red flags sewn together into a gigantic red flag… and yet Henry loved him enough to agree to stay. To be honest, Henry kind of liked Charles when the two of them were alone. Charles was so affectionate, and practically worshipped Henry. He'd give Henry hugs, kisses, massages… he just spoiled Henry. But when other people were around he scared Henry with his possessiveness. This wasn't right… was it? This was dangerous. This was stressful. This wasn't healthy. Not like this. Henry knew he needed to talk to Charles. Maybe he could get through to him. Maybe he could- "Oi, Henry. What're you doing out here? Boss will freak out if he sees you're missing." Henry jumped in surprise at the sudden voice. He turned to face the Toppat. Rupert Price. He was one of the higher ups in the clan, but that fact wouldn't keep him safe from Charles's wrath if he was caught talking to Henry alone. "I know, I'm sorry. I just… needed space. If Charles starts looking for me, just tell him I'm here. He'll find me." Henry replied. He wanted to be able to talk to the other members of the Toppat Clan, but he knew it only threw them into danger. Charles was a yandere, that was just who he was. "Yeah, I will." Rupert took his leave, he didn't want to be added to his boss's list of casualties.

Henry leaned over the red, metal, guard rails. It felt cold against the skin on his hands. He gripped the railing so tightly his knuckles had turned white. What was he going to tell Charles? How do you convince a yandere to calm down and be less of a, well, a yandere!? Charles wasn't one to quit. Henry knew that better than anyone else. Henry took deep breaths trying to focus.

----

"Oh Henry~!" Charles called out to his lover as he stepped out of the shower into their shared bedroom. Then paused when he noticed when the room was empty. Charles froze. Where had Henry gone? His one true love, his treasure, wasn't here. Had he run off? Or had a member of the Toppat Clan decided to attempt to take his precious sweetheart away from him? Not. Happening. Charles quickly changed into his usual clothes. His signature red top hat and headset combo upon his head. Charles walked angrily through the airship in search of Henry. The other clan members backed away from him, not wanting to upset him further and become victims. Rupert peered around a corner only to appear behind Charles. "Oi- Hey boss." Charles whipped his head around so fast it made Rupert jump. His piercing green irises staring intently through Rupert. "Yes? Rupert?" Charles asked (practically snapped), his voice had such an edge to it that it felt as though it would cut people. "Uh.. Henry's out on the balcony. Ya know… since you seem to be… looking for him.." Rupert trailed off nervously, hoping that Charles would calm down. "I see…" Charles said as he walked towards Rupert. The other Toppats only watched awkwardly. Charles suddenly grabbed Rupert's neck, his grip was tight and relentless. "..and why, may I ask, do you know his whereabouts while I do not?" His voice was cold, and erie. " *gasp* I-I saw him out there while I was w-walking by! *cough* I swear!" Rupert struggled to breathe as Charles's grip on his throat tightened slightly. Charles let go of Rupert. He wanted to see his darling Henry. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "Very well. I'll go check there now. See ya."

…

Charles speed walked towards the airship's balcony. Why would Henry go there? Away from him? Why would Henry go somewhere where he wasn't by his side? He reached the door that led to the balcony outside. He walked through it. His eyes lit up at the sight before him. There was his priceless treasure, bathed in sunlight and surrounded by the endless sky and clouds around them. Quite frankly, his sweet little Henry was beautiful out here. Like an angel in heaven. Charles just had to gaze at the gorgeous sight before him.

Henry kept his back towards Charles. Charles smiled as he approached Henry, then wrapped one of his arms around his waist, using his other arm to turn Henry's face towards him and kissed Henry on the lips before moving to kiss Henry's cheeks and neck. "Oh Henry~ my dear, what are you doing out here alone? It's dangerous here, I don't want you wandering too far from me. I'll keep you safe, love." Charles said in a sing-song voice, as he kissed Henry's neck. Charles buried his face into his neck, nipping at the skin. "... Charles…" Henry whined, he had to talk to him, it was his only hope for improvement in their relationship. Henry knew Charles was not only taller than him, but he was much stronger than him as well. If Charles wanted to restrain Henry, he could. He wasn't sure if Charles would do it, but he knew he could. That knowledge scared him. "Hmm?" Charles hummed, just filled with happiness at the sound of Henry's voice. Charles inhaled deeply, taking in Henry's scent. "Charles, we need to talk. Can we go back to our room?" "Of course." Charles moved his arms to lift Henry, carrying him to their room.

…

Charles held Henry in his lap, the two of them on their bed. Henry could feel Charles kisses and breaths on the back of his neck. "Charles." Henry's voice was quiet, slightly distressed. "Yes my love?" Charles asked fondly. "I know you love me, and I love you too. Really, I do, but I need-" Henry was interrupted by Charles. "What do you need? I can provide it for you! Any treasures of the world are yours, just ask!"

"I need space Charles! I love you and all, but it's driving me crazy that I can't have a few minutes to myself without you freaking out and shooting somebody or something!" Henry's eyes stung from the tears forming in them. He took in a small gasp of air before continuing. "I was hoping that when I joined your clan we'd be like partners in crime. Not me being your pet. I want to be alongside you, but still be an individual. Why can't you let me do that?" Henry started to sob. "You say you love me, but you don't seem to really care about how I feel! And it hurts, Charles. It really, really hurts. It makes me reconsider whether or not I still want to stay." Henry started crying. Tears ran down his face, and he trembled. There was silence between them. Charles gripped Henry slightly tighter. Had he really been hurting him without realizing it? Would Henry leave him? He didn't want him to leave! He needed Henry. Every time the two of them were apart, he craved Henry's presence. He yearned to hear Henry's voice. "Henry… I-I… I never meant to hurt you. I just… I don't want anyone or anything taking you away from me, but… I don't want to drive you away either. Please. Stay. I'll try to be better. I want to make you happy. Let me make you happy." Charles begged. He took a deep breath. "I'll try to respect your privacy, and give you more space."

Henry sniffled, then turned around to face Charles. "You really mean, it?" Charles used his thumb to wipe the tears off of Henry's face, then he nodded. "I mean it. I don't want to lose you. Just tell me how I can be better for you." Charles pleaded, he'd do anything for Henry. "Okay, well to start. I'd like to be able to talk to other people without you threatening to kill and/or maim them." Henry began, he wanted to be able to socialize again. "I'll try. But you're still mine." Charles said slightly sternly. "We'll work on that."

This was going to take time. Charles would have a hard time changing his behavior, but he'd do it if it meant Henry would stay. "Please don't leave." Charles pleaded again, burrowing his face into Henry's shoulder. "I won't. But here are other things that we need to change." Henry stated, he loved Charles. If Charles was willing to develop a healthier relationship, then he could truly be happy with Charles and the Toppats.

"I love you, Charlie. Even if you're crazy. Thank you for hearing me out." Henry leaned back into Charles, the act of affection making Charles smile. "I love you too. I'll try my best to make you happy, Hen-Hen." Charles kissed Henry on the cheek before moving to lay down, bringing Henry with him. The two of them cuddled together. Doing their best to communicate their feelings better. With enough time and effort, they'd develop a better relationship. One based more on love and less on obsession.

#stickvin #henrles #henry stickmin #charles calvin #yandere toppat charles #yandere charles #toppat charles #henry stickmin x charles calvin #charles calvin x henry stickmin #stay #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction

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