I will be reposting all my older fics to my new account @arcaneorphic as well as any new fics! If you follow me I hope you’ll follow me to my new account! Thanks!
You woke up in the morning to find yourself in the demon of pride’s bed. It was nice. You’d long-since forgotten about falling back through time, about being an attendant, about having to pretend to be distanced from the brothers.
For a moment, you were yourself, and Lucifer was himself, and you felt safe and loved and secure again.
He wasn’t in the bed, but that wasn’t abnormal for him. You often awoke to him leaving the bed, or having left by carefully ensuring you wouldn’t wake up. Your fingers gently trace the place he once laid. It’s cooler, meaning he’s been gone for a little bit, but you can still find a stray feather here and there amidst the folds of the blankets and sheets. You tenderly grasp the pillow where his head once laid, curling closer to where he once was.
You were shaken from your comfort by a throat-clear from across the room.
You groggily look up to see Lucifer standing in the doorway with two mugs of coffee.
“Care to explain what our attendant was doing last night by climbing into my bed? Might you have been hoping for something.. More?” He smirks, moving to hand you one of the mugs. It’s obvious that he’s riding the high of what he assumes was your tired confession.
And your heart aches, because you so desperately miss your Lucifer. The Lucifer who knows that this isn’t the way you take your coffee, and it certainly isn’t your favorite way to start the morning. The Lucifer who would climb back into bed with you, whose pride was always left at the door when you two were alone. The Lucifer who knew you, and knew that you knew him.
Your eyes grow sad at his question. He’s astute at reading the room, so he leans back against his dresser opposite of you to watch you. He still doesn’t know you well enough to make assumptions, and when you don’t give him reactions he expects, it makes it all the more obvious to him.
“.. I’m sorry, I.. mistook you for someone I knew.”
“... That’s hardly a mistake people make often.”
“... I apologize.” You begin getting up, setting the coffee he gave you to the side, not even taking a sip. He notices this, and feels a pang in his heart as he realizes that his offering wasn’t even something that interested you.
Competition isn’t a problem to him, but to think that he can’t even reach you scares him more than he’d like to admit.
“.. Please, don’t apologize. It was nice. I enjoyed your company. Maybe next time, you’ll be able to share it with me while knowing it’s me.” He smiles warmly, masking the pain under a suave demeanor. Even if your heart belongs to someone else, he’s made up his mind that he wants it.
“I don’t think so, but thank you for the offer.” You begin straightening your clothes.
“Well, for you, my door is open. If you change your mind, just ask.”
And with that, you leave.
You leave the demon in a turmoil of emotions. Your heart already yearns for someone. Who is it? Why aren’t you two together anymore? There’s so much about you shrouded in mystery, and he needs to know why you mistook him for this.. Unknown, undisclosed person.
You return to your work as the brothers’ attendant, but Lucifer can hardly focus the rest of the week.
Who in all the three realms could you have loved so much as to look at them with the eyes you looked at him with in your sleepy haze?
And why does his heart feel like it’s bleeding?
Here's a sneak peek at the Inarizaki Manager!Reader I've been working on
Y/n used her shoulder to push open the gym door. Currently her attention was on the updated playbook that Kita had given her at lunch. She noticed how the changes to Inarizaki’s plays meant that Suna would get more time on the court, which was a smart move on coach Norimune’s part, but that also meant that starting positions would change. So, that meant that Y/n would have to familiarize herself with this new dynamic in order to help the team to the best of her ability.
She continued to walk further into the gym, eyes still glued to the book in her hands. Even though practice wouldn’t start for another twenty minutes most of the team was already there. Normally she would be on high alert when she entered the gym seeing as it was commonplace for her to dodge stray spikes, mostly from overexcited first years; but she didn’t hear the sound of volleyballs, so her distracted nature was fine for the time being.
“You need to look where you’re going,” said a voice just before Y/n took another step.
She recognized the voice immediately and stopped in her tracks, “I know, I know but I didn’t get a chance to look this over until right now and I don’t want to hold you guys back by not knowing what’s going on”.
Kita sighed, “I appreciate it, but if you happen to hurt yourself, or worse, if one of them happen to hurt you then that would be a far bigger hinderance”.
Y/n finally tore her gaze away from the book in front of her and gave Kita a playful smile as she closed the playbook, “Well, I wouldn’t want to be a ‘hinderance’.”
Kita gave a strained smile in return. Usually Kita would respond to Y/n teasing with a quick-witted response, but the look on his face showed that he was in no mood for joking.
“What’s wrong?,” she searched his face for any sign of what was bothering him.
Without saying a word he turned his attention to the other side of the gym, and when she followed his gaze she knew what had him so bothered. Her eyes landed on the twins, who seemed to be ‘communicating’ through a very reluctant Suna. This was unlike their usual heated fights, this was different—this was cold.
"Want some granola?" Suna asks, totally unsympathetic to your blubbering form sitting on the stairs between the fourth and fifth floor in front of him.
"Rin…I'm literally…" you groan, tired of it all. A few tears are swiped from your moist cheeks as you shudder and attempt to even out your voice. "No, Rintaro. I don't want any damn granola. I want my boyfriend back! How the hell can he just break up with me like that, over text of all freakin' things?! He's…he…he's a…"
"A dunce face," Suna completes for you.
"Yeah! A dunce face! I mean, why would he do that? How can he do that? We were fine last week!"
"Humans are fickle creatures," he muses.
"Yeah? Ha. Well then it's official. I hate humans- oh, except for you of course," you quickly say to your best friend. "But that…dunce face, and our physics professor, and the lady at the store who didn't give me proper change- I hate them!"
"Mm, I'm not a human actually," he says around a mouthful, noting the flavor profile between the oats and…nutmeg? Mhm, nutmeg. They totally put nutmeg in it. "I'm a genie."
"Oh, really?" You raise an eyebrow.
"Yup. I'm not fickle at all. In fact, I've had the fattest crush on you for the last few years and never wavered. Even when your face looks like that. I probably love you by now or whatever. Don't know what's wrong with your boy toy," Suna shrugs as if he didn't just confess to you and smacks his lips. "Anyways, Atsumu is waiting for me on the quad. I was supposed to be there half an hour ago but a pesky human kept me back."
Suna drops the mostly finished bag of granola on your lap, only containing the little bits and pieces you liked, and plants a big kiss on you, right on your snotty and bitten lips. "Later, dude."
You pull out your phone and post a pic of you laying in bed with the caption. "I'm Lonely" on devilgram. Within one minute someone immediately called your phone.
MC: Hello?
Barbatos: Do you know what you've done?
MC: Uh... Making a post in Devilgram?
Barbatos: MC.
Barbatos: You forgotten how much power you wield.
Barbatos: That single post.
MC: Oh come on Barb.
MC: I think your overacting a bit- *Then you got a message from Barbatos through your chat with him and its a pic*
MC: Oh.
It was a pic of student council room with most of the officers are either punching, biting each other and throwing or being thrown across the room.
MC: Ah... I can see your hand at corner of the pic.
MC: What are you holding?
Barbatos: My knife.
MC: Why do you have a knife?
Barbatos: ...
MC: Barbatos?
Barbatos: ...
Barbatos: ... Mistake were made. But I don't regret any of them.
Atsumu sees you stand behind the school’s glass doors. The sky is grey and pouring rain heavily. A loud shrill in the air is the only sound that echoes through the empty hallways. Atsumu wonders why you’ve lingered back after school hours until he sees-
You have no umbrella.
But Atsumu could care less. He’s going to walk to you, open his umbrella with a show, glance at your sad hopeful eyes, and ignore them as he covers his head to march into the rain with pride. That’s how he’s planned it.
Because he knows you told on him last week when he lied about practice to skip cleaning duty. He saw you kick his eraser far away from his desk when he accidentally dropped it. He knows you still have him blocked on twitter (no, he did not check). And he’s pissed at you so of course, he’s going to show it.
As he approaches you, his squeaky sneakers alert you of another presence but you don’t turn around. You just stand there, clutching your bag and thinking of whatever you usually think of to pass the time. He doesn’t understand why you’re willing to wait for the rain to pause- the sky doesn’t look like it’ll stop crying anytime soon.
(He overheard you and your friends talking about a new show once).
He takes his umbrella out of his bag. Ready and waiting in his tight grip. He’s a foot away and he notices how you turn your head just a little bit. It’s almost unnoticeable but your hair bounces…just a little bit.
Atsumu hates how he’s always quick to notice every single thing you do, every movement. Even if it’s just a little bit.
He hates how your new haircut looks on you. He hates how you look different but still act the same towards him. Your head seems to be locked in that position. As if you don’t want to be the one who looks first but Atsumu’s already seen you so he doesn’t understand why you persist in playing hide and seek.
(He saw how your friend wanted matching haircuts and how you nervously responded each time but still agreed).
He stops next to you, sneakers now silent. He’s ready. He knows what step he’s on, he’s confident he’ll execute it perfectly.
Hands on the umbrella, he springs it open and the metal bars screech, the cloth puffs as it’s stretched out.
Atsumu doesn’t look at you yet. He doesn’t bring the object up yet, he’s still holding it outwards.
Just glance and bring your arm up. Just glance and bring your arm up. Just glance and-
He shouldn’t have looked at you because of a million reasons.
You’re staring straight at him when he glances. It’s like you’re peering right into his eyes and deep into his soul. He’s never liked that. He’s never enjoyed how you understand the reasons behind his reckless slash selfish actions. Why he does this, why he does that. He doesn’t like how you always defend his stupid mistakes when you think he’s not around. He doesn’t like how there’s softness in a strained relationship. Don’t you dislike him? Isn’t that why everything you two do…is out of spite? Just do bother each other? To prove who’s better…
(He knows you lied about how he was helping you with a project when Kita was going to make him do four extra laps. He knows you were the one who wrote those notes on a class he had missed and left it in his locker. No one else draws double loops for the character “ne” except you, because it is an old habit that doesn’t die no matter how hard you try. He knows you began wearing two-star clips after his stupid friends loudly talked about his love for the stars.)
You don’t blink as you gaze up at him. Why do your eyes look different? Mascara? No…the way you look at him is so gentle and delicate. Immediately, Atsumu knows he is a goner. He feels his neck gradually heat up so he quickly turns to face the downpour. He coughs loudly and brings his arm up.
Why would he be effected? There’s no reason at all. He’s perfectly fine yet his fingerd softly shake.
Then, he kills his pride to make sure the umbrella covers you more than him. He can always wash the jacket. Osamu wouldn’t even realise it’s missing or wet.
You let out an almost silent thank you but his ears are quick to hear it. There’s something in his chest that feels like it’s squeezing him. A coiling sensation that stops him from breathing steadily.
You shuffle closer to him and he almost drops the umbrella.
He covers it with a fake cough and musters up the strength to say
Can you do when haikyuu boys are drunk?shoyo/atsumu & kuroo & maybe kenma?
I'm really sorry, I only have atsumu for now, I go back to school this week, but I will be doing the other characters to come!
Miya Atsumu, who gets drunk the night of his bachelor party and finds himself clumsily knocking on your hotel room door despite the unspoken rule not to see you. Giggling like a child upon seeing your face after opening.
You practically yank him inside and sit him down on the couch, while you grab him a glass of water. He does some incoherent mumbles that you can’t make out, from so far away- or at all because at the degree he is slurring his words, he’s barely pronouncing your name right. Shocking, because according to him-
“Iths ma favorite ward!”
“I believe you, baby,” you say with a smile, handing the glass of water to his unsteady hands which you help steady as he downs the drink as if it’s been years since he’s even seen water.
“Tat’s real good.”
You laugh and he moves your arms out of his way to that he can rest his head in your lap.
“Can eye tell ya something?”
“I feel like you’re gonna tell me anyways-:”
“We’re getting mawied.”
“Yeah, we are,” you confirm and he looks up at you, eyes gleaming like a five-year-old being handed a giant lollipop. “Why aren’t you out celebrating?” you ask, as you softly rake your fingers through his bleach-blonde, nearly dead hair.
“Eye’d rathwer be here.”
You try your best not to cry as you ask, “rest of your life, huh?”
“Rest of ma life.” He nods then, makes a point to admittedly, awkwardly, wrap his arms around your waist, scared you are just a drunken dream and that when he’s sober, you’ll disappear. But you won’t, as you whipser, “rest of my life too.”
Ushijima does nothing halfway. Especially when it comes to his daughter.
It’s very adorable to see, there’s nothing quite like her asking him for anything and everything, and him doing it.
For her third birthday, she wanted a pony. When he couldn’t find one, he and Romero dressed up in a pony costume.
When she asks for candy, he gets her two of whatever she likes- one when she eats all her dinner, and one because ‘mommy doesn’t need to know.’
When she comes barreling into your bedroom while you two snuggle, wailing and desperately trying to dry her eyes while you both scramble from the bed to calm her down. He’s quick to reach for the baseball bat next to his bed to ward off any “monsters.”
“What’s wrong, baby?” You soothe, opening your arms for her to leap into. She does, and you hoist her up and onto your hip, her face burying into your neck.
“Jock’s gone!” She sobs, and immediately, you and Wakatoshi tense up.
Jacques, the handmade giraffe Uncle Satori had sent all the way from Paris for Reina’s second birthday had immediately made its presence known in everyday life. Everywhere Reina went, Jacques was close behind or enclosed in her tiny hand: play dates, dinners out or at the table, sitting on the toilet at bath time…
In her arms every time she was going to sleep.
“Oh sweetheart,” you croon. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”
“I…I…” she lets out a sniffle and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “I forgot to…”
“We’ll find him,” Wakatoshi assures, and Reina’s eyes light up at her favorite hero.
You gnaw at your lip before looking at the time, “baby, don’t you think we should maybe just try tomorrow?”
“She needs it tonight,” he says simply, planting a kiss to your head before stalking out of the room. “He’s got to be in the house somewhere. Probably just playing hide and seek.”
What a damned game he was playing.
Surely enough, everywhere Jacques would be, or was suspected to be was exactly where he wasn’t; he wasn’t in the bathroom, or in the chair next to hers at the dinner table. He wasn’t in the playroom, nor under her bed, everywhere that Jacques could be, he certainly was not.
“Doya think he ran ‘way, daddy?” Reina wails, fingers clasping onto your pajama pants. A soothing hand cards through her locks, and despite Wakatoshi having the patience of a Saint, you could see it in his eyes it was slowly slipping away.
“It would make more sense than him just not being here,” he mumbles, and you offer him a sympathetic look for his efforts. “Okay, Reina,” he sighs, crouching down to be eye level with her; exhaustion paints his face and his hair sticks up wildly with his anxious carding, “when was the last time you had Jacques?”
She sniffles and wipes her nose on your sweat pants, “I told him to stay and watch the washin’ machine, ‘n come get mommy when it was done, and he never did!”
Wakatoshi blanches and his jaw slacks. You cover your mouth to hide the laughter that desperately wants to bubble out. Reina’s bottom lip wobbles as she unknowingly just took three years off of her fathers life.
“…the last time you had him was in the laundry room?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So… he’s in the laundry room?”
She nods again. Big brown eyes flick up to you, and he sinks his teeth into his lip to stop himself from laughing in a similar vain as you. “Okay,” he says, standing up and scrubbing his face with his large hands. “In hindsight, that should’ve been my first question.”
“Huh?” Reina asks, eyes flying up to you when you finally let a few cackles out, watching as your mammoth of a husband shuffles down the hallway to the laundry room. The light flicks on, then off, and when he emerges, there’s Jacques, dangling from his beefy hand.
“Found him,” he says blankly. Reina gasps and quickly runs over to her father, eagerly clutching the giraffe to her chest.
“You didn’t run ‘way!” She squeals, rocking the plush back and forth before planting a kiss to its head, chirping a sweet little “thank you, daddy!” before shuffling back off to bed, like the last three hours of struggle didn’t just happen.
Wakatoshi looks at you with exhausted eyes, but the minute they lock with yours, he’s unable to fight the wide smile that starts to spread over his face, causing the both of you to break out in loud laughter and snickers. You quickly make your way back into his arms, your head thunking against his chest while it rumbles with his laughter.
“I cannot believe that little snot just outplayed us so hard.”
“You’d think this is our first day,” you snort. Your head turns up to look at him, and you give him a kiss on the base of his jaw as a reward. “You’re so good to her.”
“I almost have to be,” he sighs sleepily. His olive eyes glaze over your face, “there is no way you’d be able to handle her antics on your own.”
“Hey. Just because she likes you more than me does not mean I can’t handle her on my own.”
He offers you a small snort and reaches up to gently stroke the corners of your smiling eyes, “I do suppose so; her ability to give me grey hairs certainly does come from you.”
“Exactly,” you chuckle. Lovingly, despite his slander, you nose at his jawline for him to lean down for a kiss which he happily complies in, his hands gentle on your cheek in the middle of the hallway. You giggle against his lips and nuzzle your nose against his, “I want another one…”
“A kiss?”
“No, a baby.”
Immediately he pulls back, face dropped in a deadpanned expression to contrast your excited one. “Clearly we need to get you to sleep, you’re talking nonsense.”
“Toshi!”
“Come on,” he grunts, hoisting you up and over his shoulder, ignoring your laughter and the banging of your fists against his back. “Bed time. Before the both of you give me an aneurysm.”
Living alone is fun and liberating until you fall sick and there's no one to ask for help when you're too tired to cook or fetch your own food. This is a lighthearted wintry story for anyone who needs a holiday pick-me-up.
In Another Story, Jumin texts you "text denied" and you can get a heart from him if you reply with "denial denied", so that's when I know this man got verbal sparring potential, which is to say, my kind of man. The banter here is 100% powered by that.
Masterlist Read on AO3
-
Jumin likes you. You don't know this yet, and perhaps his feelings haven't grown that deep to be labelled as love, but he has a very strong inclination towards you.
Jumin wants to do almost everything for you. You're an important member of the RFA, as he likes to remind you, so he wants to cook for you when you fall sick. It's a reasonable thing to do, so please don't read too much into this.
Jumin is atrocious at cooking. His list of experiences consists of making instant pancakes, and that's it, really.
But it's late and he's here after a hectic work day, arranging the steaming soup he'd personally packed from home on your dining table. He's here, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, winter coat hung by the door, concern knitted into his face. He's here, standing as awkward as the bare Christmas tree in the room that you haven't had the chance to decorate, but you don't feel uncomfortable because he's here. He's here, he's here.
Your heart makes way for him.
Jumin sets down a spoon by your hand. "Is your headache persisting? If you need to see a doctor, I can refer you to a specialist in the area."
You shake your head. "It's fine, I just need to rest. I'm only like this because I overworked myself. The holiday season is always rough. And yes," you say, holding up a hand before he could protest, "I've taken a break from work." If you don't stop him in time, you know you'd be subjected to a slew of nagging, fully backed up with scientific research.
"How about your fever?" Jumin asks while sliding into the chair opposing you. After a beat, he leans across the table with an arm stretched out. "May I?"
It's an opportunity to engage in physical contact with Jumin, and you are an opportunist when it comes to him. Your hand reaches for his and presses it to your forehead. Your skin burns against the chill from his, and the fault isn't entirely on your fever. Immediately, Jumin stands up and places his other hand on the side of your neck. "Your temperature is still very high. Are you sure you can take care of yourself like this?"
You give him a pointed look. "If it's low I'd be a corpse."
"If it's lower you'd be normal."
"Are you saying I'm abnormal, strange, odd, peculiar, et cetera?"
"I'm referring to your current biological state. Only with a healthy body, you can function with optimal productivity," Jumin states. He is very determined to share his wisdom. "If you'd like a caretaker…" he trails off before continuing, "no, actually, I'm available to stay over if you need me to," Jumin enunciates his offer carefully, letting it hang like a question.
Though every cell in your body screams in agreement, you set your hopes aside. He could have meant nothing by it. He could have only been extending his hospitality as a friend, nothing more.
His hands are still on your face for longer than necessary.
"I'll decide based on how good your masterpiece tastes." It was a safe answer. As you shift your attention to the soup in front of you, Jumin pulls back, seemingly too aware of what he has let happen.
The soup is still hot, its swirling steam brushing your face. It has a muddy texture and a stuffy aroma with a note of coarseness, which you doubt it's how it's supposed to smell, but you're willing to give Jumin the benefit of the doubt.
"Masterpiece? Well, I suppose it is. My chef said ginseng chicken soup is an effective remedy to fever, so I would have to thank him later." Jumin straightens his vest and slides back into his chair.
"Wait," you pause, spoon hovering and mouth hanging open, "it's supposed to be a chicken soup?"
"Yes."
You blink. "Then where's the chicken?"
Jumin clasps his fingers on the table. "I burned it and didn't have time to boil another one, but I'm sure its essence has seeped into the broth. Chicken essence also has medicinal qualities, I heard."
"Medicinal," you echo. Perhaps you should retract the benefit you extended to him.
Jumin gives you one confident nod and you throw back a hesitant smile, raising the spoon to cheer and taking a sip. Then fight back a cough. Then fight to keep your expression straight.
Not to be dramatic, but it tastes like death. Did Jumin pour the entire ocean tainted by factory waste into this soup?
His creation should be on the Guinness record. It's a miracle how it can be excruciatingly salty and bitter with none of the usual earthy sweetness from the ginseng. This is best served for your worst enemies, except you aren't sure if your worst enemy right now is the soup or Jumin. If he told you this is an elaborate plot to worsen your health to prevent you from returning to your hellish routine, you would probably believe it.
It would be an insult to thank the chef for this.
But Jumin's watching you eagerly and you can't bear to stomp on his spirit, so despite how your stomach is very much stomping in protest, you force a wide grin. "It's very unique and flavourful! I can still taste the chicken on my tongue; it's like its poor burnt soul has never left the pot. The power of phantom chicken, truly." You cover your mouth, attempting to hide a cough. "Did you follow the exact recipe?"
Jumin seems relieved at your reaction. "No, actually, I took some liberties. I know I'm still a beginner, but it would be boring if I did just as the chef told me, so I put my own twist and innovated a brand new dish."
This innovation could invent a new illness in people.
"Wow, I didn't know you're creative too. Good for you!" You can feel your grin evolving into a wince, so you quickly scoop more soup into your mouth. Better finish it fast than let it grow cold. Who knows how it would taste then.
"May I give it a try? I'm curious how it managed to warrant such high praise from you," asks Jumin.
Your throat is as rough as asphalt when you croak, "You didn't try when you made this?"
"I was rushing to get to you. As you already know, I'm good in everything that I put much effort into, so I was confident this would turn out well." Jumin sits back with arms crossed, a small smile tugging his lips. "It appears that once again, I'm right."
Look where over-the-top lying and grade-A bullshitting got you. "No," you briskly refuse.
His smile turns into a frown. "No?"
"No! You're not suggesting we share a spoon, are you? That'd be unhygienic."
"Surely you have another spoon at home?" He looks around the kitchen and sees the cutlery rack. "Oh, it's there. Please sit down, I can get it on my own. Don't exert yourself."
When Jumin starts walking towards the rack, you quickly jump off your chair, ignoring the pounding headache that follows and desperately grab his arm. "Jumin, wait. You made that soup for me, yes? That means it's mine to finish. Don't even think about stealing my food."
Jumin twists his body almost just as fast. "Don't jump like that. Are you all right?" He holds you by your shoulders, eyes flitting up and down to examine you. Once he's reassured, he says, "Though I have to say, I find it surprising that you don't want to share food. Since when did you change?"
"Since you made that with your whole heart." You motion at the soup beside you. "It's mine, all right?" Without waiting, you swipe it up and try to gulp down the rest.
Keyword: try.
It's a fantastically failed attempt. They say the more you grow, the more you know yourself. Well, it's true. The questionable things you'd do for a crush know no bounds. Turns out, it's you who deserves an award for being the best fool in love.
You're about to finish when you begin to choke, and what a sight it is. You, trying to dial back the coughing to a minimum to avoid spreading the virus and embarrassment, yet also visibly cringing from having to swallow the contents down. Jumin, his whole body frigid in alarm before switching the bowl out of your grasp with a glass of water, which you gratefully drink.
So much for pretension.
"Okay, fine, it's horrible," you give in, tears blurring your sight. Would it be too much to declare your taste buds to be damaged?
Jumin's expression is a slow-motion picturesque of horror. "So you lied to me."
"Well, I can't mock your hard work to your face," you hurriedly say. "I love the, um, texture? It's soupy. It transports me to the seaside. Very refreshing." If the seaside is engulfed by a tsunami, that is.
"Soup is supposed to have the texture of soup."
"It could've gone worse! It could've been so lumpy it's chewy."
Jumin looks affronted. "Has the fever gone to your head? What kind of liquid is chewable?"
The salt has. "The fever is in my head. And in my other body parts. Don't you know how fever works? Also, insinuating me of delirium and therefore incapable of forming coherent thoughts just because I'm slightly sick only makes you sound all the more condescending. Maybe your soup has transformed me. Maybe your soup has dissolved my brain into mush. Maybe your power of cooking has transcended science."
"Then stop eating it if you hate it so much. Just how bad could it be?" Jumin strides to fetch a spoon from the cutlery rack and then tries it himself.
To no one's surprise and probably Jumin's only, he instantly sputters it out. You watch him. Then, with an attitude fuelled by a hundred I-told-you-so's, you calmly pass him a glass of water.
"Why," Jumin gasps, "would you put your body through this? This is inedible."
Patting the edge of his lips with a tissue—a wonderful disguise to touch him again—you decide to test him. "Why do you think?"
"If you're doing this to spare my feelings, you're only wasting your energy. I don't get easily offended and I'm excellent at receiving feedback. I would've improved this soup if only you had told me the truth."
You wrestle the bowl out of his hand and place it on the table. "Jumin, from the bottom of my heart, I'm begging you not to do anything more to it. Ever heard of what doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result means?"
"The very definition of improvement means implementing different methods to make it better."
"Not when those methods have one thing in common: you."
"You seem to have lost your pleasantries, but I'll excuse it since you're ill," says Jumin, tone totally pleasant.
"Do you know how aggravating you can be sometimes?" you retort, not at all pleasant.
Jumin nods solemnly. "I've heard Zen accusing me with more colourful insults, although I can't say I agree. It also appears that Assistant Kang often shares his opinion." He puts on a neutral expression so carefully crafted that you know it's anything but. It's an expression designed to boast. "Of course, I'm one of a kind. It's natural that not everyone can get along with me. It'd be a privilege to gain my courtesy."
And yet here you are in my house. "I wouldn't say it's a privilege to be personally poisoned by you."
Jumin grunts. "That's not what you implied when you doled out those high compliments."
"If you'd read into the subtext, you'd know I wasn't praising you." You pick up the bowl again for yourself. "Let's move on to something else after I finish this."
"Are you serious?"
You mimic his deadpan tone the best you can, "I'm always serious."
"So now you drink poison."
You shrug. "You said it, not me."
This time, it's Jumin who touches you first. His fingers splay out on your arm, halting you from doing another stupid thing. As you proclaimed earlier: the best fool in love. "Pardon me if I still can't comprehend why you're so adamant about finishing that. Unless you're trying to prove that the fever has infected your brain?"
"Are you asking because you really have no idea or are you looking for confirmation?" You aren't going to let Jumin push you to confess first. Not when you're in your worst shape, complete with ashen lips and bird-nest hair from lying on the bed the whole day. Your nightmare before Christmas has arrived too soon.
Jumin tilts his head. "What are you insinuating?"
"Don't play coy, Jumin."
"I'm not playing anything. It would be cruel to play with a sick person."
Sometimes, a person could get a sharp zing of epiphany and it would feel like this is it, this is what you're meant to do. And sometimes, that moment comes when the man who stirs up a flurry of emotions in you is so infuriating that it has become your new mission to make him confess first. The visit, the food, the dancing around the truth. They all click. The fever has not gone to your head.
Who visits a random woman's place on a freezing night, during peak season at work, when the said woman is only felled with a mild illness, nothing medication and rest can't cure?
Not Jumin.
"Let me ask you one thing. Why are you here?" you prod.
Jumin looks at you as if it's something you should already know. A common answer to a common question. "You need to eat a proper meal and no one's around to take care of you. I'm not going to let you drag yourself out for food when it's snowing that hard outside."
Glancing out the window where snow is falling rapidly, you won't deny that trudging alone in that weather would be a poor survival method. Zero out of ten doctors would suggest it. You snort, eyeing the soup at hand. "And this is a proper meal?"
"Accidents happen, but my intention remains the same."
"You could've ordered something for me, sent over a chef, or asked Jaehee to check on me. Aren't you too busy to waste your precious time like this?"
"No time is wasted if it's spent on you. You're an important person to me, so I needed to make sure with my own eyes that you're all right." Jumin's forehead creases with worry. "All I could think about at work was you. I was afraid you might faint and no one would be here to help."
You don't bother to hold back a small smile. "Well, you're here now, so what's your assessment?"
At least he has the decency to look contrite. "Moderately alarming upon first look, worse after consuming the soup I cooked. My alarm is on full blare now, so please, stop this madness." Jumin pries the bowl out of your hand and sets it back on the table before fixing his posture. After a moment, he pushes the bowl farther out of your reach for good measure.
You shake your head at how adorable he is. "I also have an assessment on my own."
"Go on."
"I think those things you've said and done are a roundabout way to confess that you like me," you say.
You let it float between you, trying to gauge Jumin's reaction, but he's still, too still for your liking. You know you aren't wrong, but could this be the wrong time to poke at his feelings?
"And would it bother you," Jumin asks slowly, "if I tell you that you are correct?"
Bother you?
Bother you.
Jumin must think that his feelings could disrupt your peace, but if they could, then you don't want to know another moment of peace. He's the one who brings the sense of calmness that you long for. His mere presence brings you comfort, and he's the one you rely on to lift your spirits. It's appalling how your feelings that are so palpable to you could be invisible in the eye of your direct affection.
You take a step closer, studying him. Windswept hair, ruddy cheeks, and a tender expression that you've never seen him wear with other people. "Do you really think you're the only one with a crush?" you whisper, voice delicate.
Jumin stares at you in disbelief, which slowly morphs into relief when the truth dawns on him. "I didn't want to be," he murmurs. "Truth be told, I've had my suspicions since you insisted to eat that cursed dish, but I couldn't be sure until you give me a clear sign."
"So you admit that you're searching for a confirmation." A smug grin appears on your lips. "I literally swallowed poison for you. If that isn't a clear enough sign, then I don't know what is."
He clears his throat. "I wouldn't go so far as to call my cooking poison; it was a beginner mistake at worst. Can't you spare some mercy on my first trial?"
You gawp. "To hell with mercy. I was your experiment subject?"
Jumin's response is immediate. "I thought it'd be more special if you were the first person to try my cooking."
"Well, it was certainly nothing like anything I've tasted before."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I was responding to your sarcasm with another sarcasm. Do keep up." Jumin's eyes twinkle with mischief, and it makes you want to strangle and kiss him at the same time.
You cross your arms. "Should I kick you out?"
"You wouldn't want to do that," he challenges.
You hoist yourself up the table. "I want to do a lot of things to you, Jumin. Shame they'd have to wait until I recover."
Carefully, he slots himself between your legs, arms kept to his sides so he won't touch your bare thighs by accident. It's endearing how cautious he is. "I can't wait to see what you've got planned. Is there anything I can do to make your illness go away faster?"
You laugh. "You'd be scandalised." You close your legs just a bit more so they brush against his trousers. Jumin's breath hitches and you arch a brow, a silent dare for him to make his next move. He chuckles, then settles his hands on your thighs. A light touch that turns into a gentle, reassuring grip.
"I doubt they could rival my desires against you," he utters, his tone taking on a sultry cadence that draws your body in.
"Stay the night. You made the offer earlier, and the weather is too harsh to go home anyway. So, stay."
Jumin lights up at your request, and you're giddy with how transparent he is. Look at the joy you can spark within him. "Are you going to pour wine for me while putting on the records too?"
You crack up laughing. "I can't believe you just quoted 'Baby, It's Cold Outside'!"
"Paraphrased," he corrects. "It's unfortunate that they don't mention wine in the song. Didn't they know wine is the most fitting drink for the holidays?"
"You think wine is the best fitting drink for any occasion."
"Red wine contains antioxidants that are helpful in preventing coronary artery disease and has been proven to reduce stress and anxiety. It has countless qualities that are beneficial for your health," parries Jumin.
You pretend to think before saying, "Like your ginseng chicken soup?"
"I see you're fond of reminding me of my failures."
"I'm fond of seeing you admitting defeat." You make a show of cleaning the invisible dirt on his shoulders. "But you haven't given me an answer. Will you stay or do I have to belt out the whole song to persuade you?"
The corner of Jumin's mouth twitches up. He's always been fond of your theatrics, and now, finally, he can tell that you want to be with him as much as he does. "Of course I'll stay, I'd be a fool to turn you down. In any case, I'm glad everything works out."
The triumph in your chest transforms into suspicion. "What works out?"
"My overnight clothes are packed inside that briefcase." Jumin gestures at the leather briefcase neatly parked on the edge of your couch.
"You planned for this?" you ask, partly in awe, mostly in surprise.
"I simply prepared for all the possible scenarios."
"And one of them is to sleep with me."
Jumin rubs his lips. "I never mentioned anything about sleeping together."
You roll your eyes. "Fine, but don't ask me to sleep with you later, because I won't."
Jumin braces his hands on the counter, trapping you between him. You have to keep reminding yourself not to make out with him when you're still sick. "Is this the game you want to play? Very well. Just so you know, I never lose. If you don't want to sleep with me, then don't." He leans in, mouth dropping beside your ear. "See how long you can last."
But just because you're ill doesn't mean you've lost your touch. You tilt your head to meet his gaze and smirk. "Game on."
-
Footnotes:
Wanted to title this "Jumin's Bullshit" as a reference to Tyler's Bullshit from the film The Menu, but alas. Holler if you've watched it tho!
Went with ginseng chicken soup because it's a traditional Korean healing food and I thought Jumin would want to cook something with a homemade feel to comfort you. Also, I was craving it.
Welp, you basically fed my angst needed appetite with MC was tired and the update which has now gave me the idea of this ask. A lot of people, including the creators of OM, Write off MC as some pushover who takes the abuse and forgives everyone easily. They just give, give, give and everyone takes/barely apologizes to them.
The thought of everyone reacting to an MC who not only doesn’t forgive them and means it (they also used a spell to “remove their heart and emotions” so it can be easier for them to not want anything to do with everyone). Think about it. You really gonna forgive someone who killed you? Demons who tried to forgive you despite treating them with kindness? being a forced therapist and pulled into a realm beyond your understanding without your consent? You’re kindness made them see you as a doormat which is why they expect you to take such foolishness.
Imagine MC snapping from an already extremely stressful day because everyone needed something from them or their help and they just wanted to be alone and relax but nope! Any bottled feelings they had, bursted open and they realized that they can’t take it anymore and want to leave; not caring about whatever compromise or apology everyone tries to give them. MC is very stubborn after all 🤭 (sorry for the long ask, I’m a very detailed person 🫣)
heyyy, im sorry if this ask is answered late, my hand was blue and bruised from writing too much :'), im glad you liked the "Mc Was Tired." Post, tbh who wouldn’t want to leave after all the shit Mc has been through.
Don’t worry about the long ask sweetie <33, You have really put in the feeling of Mc in the best possible way and it's good that you’re a detailed person, it just means you see things through an advantage point <33
i'll try my best to do this ask justice and i hope you like it <33
-Annie
You All Mean Nothing To Me.
Genre: angst
Ships: none
TW: mentions of abuse, neglect, and murder, blood on Mammon’s part, and cusses
How long had it been since your arrival here again? You didn’t know. You kept your head low as possible as you didn’t want to attract attention from the stunt Asmodeus had pulled on you by spreading your secrets throughout RAD, including the embarrassing ones. The last time you saw someone they had bursted into fits of giggles after seeing you, that memory still burned fresh into your subconscious as if someone had burned it deep within. You merely wiped off your angry tears and made your way back to the House Of Lamentation, wanting to bury your head in your pillow as you wished to cry your frustrations out, it's not like anyone would understand you anyways.
You only entered the entrance of the cursed mansion when all of a sudden you were interrupted by the sound of Lucifer who suddenly dragged you to his room by your arm. You yelled at him only for him to ignore and drag you to his room where you were yelled at for something Satan and Belphegor had done.
"You really are a trouble aren’t you?"
"I didn’t do anything, Lucifer. I didn’t even know you had a suit like that until now..."
"NONSENSE!"
Yelled Lucifer as his voice boomed throughout the house as the remaining brothers merely stared as the two culprits only chuckled at your state right now. This? Was just the tip of what happened today.
Mammon refused to help you for a task with the witches and snickered at your face when getting humiliated by them, stole all of your jewellery and sold it to god knows which demon, got mad and yelled at you when you tried to take your stuff back and accused you of stealing his stuff when it was yours
Leviathan emotionally manipulated you again into staying with him when you needed to complete your assignment but took no responsibility for it when confronted by Lucifer
Satan, once again, used you as a coverup for bringing his cats home and let out all of his repressed anger on you by reminding you of your mistakes as he laughed at your tears and refused to apologise when confronted by you
Asmodeus once again hit a nerve by insulting an outfit you had worked hard on and spread rumours about you when you got mad about it
Beelzebub once again ate all of the snacks in the house and offered a half hearted apology but when you ate his snacks on accident he refused to accept yours even though you didn’t mean it which lead to his annoying twin saying not so nice stuff to you. It may not have hurt you if he didn’t mention you as a replacement for Lilith during his anger.
And now? With Lucifer insulting you for something he knew, you didn’t do? You snapped.
"Kneel."
"Pardon? I didn’t just hear you telling me to kneel now did i, Mc?"
"oooh you did not mc" Cooed Belphegor mockingly as Satan suddenly felt your wrath rise up.
" I, Mc, Command YOU, Lucifer Morningstar, TO KNEEL BEFORE ME RIGHT THIS INSTANT."
You stated as your pact mark glowed a bright blue. It was then the entire room went quiet as the only sound heard was the thumping of Lucifer's body as it involuntarily obeyed his master's orders. Lucifer decided it wasn’t the best to speak up as he, and everyone else could feel your wrath increase and your aura darken with each passing second. The prince, having lost his smile the moment he sensed your wrath in the atmosphere and the ever stoic butler watched as his face twisted into that of a frown. It was then you turned towards the rest of his brothers and glared at them and commanded through gritted teeth, barely keeping yourself together,
"What are you all looking at? kneel now."
"Hey human-"
"KNEEL RIGHT THIS INSTANT YOU DEGENERATES"
And with one swift motion, they all kneeled, trembling on the ground with fear, especially Satan, who was visibly shaking from your wrath. You then turned your attention to the prince and his butler who in turn looked at you with an unreadable face as you spoke through gritted teeth.
"You knew this would happen, didn’t you?" You asked as the expression on the prince's face remained the same, as he nodded and so did the butler as well.
"You all have spoken too much, hurt me too much, and got away with too much. This time, I will be the one speaking or doing anything around here, and you all have no choice but to obey me. Including you two as well. I will speak, and you all will remember each and every word i will speak from this moment on, till eternity ends."
You stated as you grabbed a chair and walked towards the centre as you set it down and crossed your legs as you started speaking, the glare never leaving your face as you started to speak.
"You know, when i first came here, i almost expected some disturbances, it is hell after all, what i didn’t expect, however, is for those who were supposed to care for me, to completely turn on me."
"It's not fair you know, It's really not fair that i have no other option but to become a FUCKING DOORMAT SPECIFICALLY DESIGNED FOR YOUR COMFORT TO USE ME AS YOU FUCKING PLEASE WHILE YOU ALL GET AWAY WITH LITERAL ABUSE AND NEGLECT."
They all flinched violently as no one dared to interrupt your wrath. The prince and his butler included.
"Over and over again, I have given you way too many chances. In hopes, that you would finally understand your mistakes but all you do is FUCK IT UP.”
“You all mean NOTHING to me.”
“You.” You pointed a finger at Lucifer and walked towards him as you spoke accusingly, “it felt nice, didn’t it? To be so fucking mean to me all the damn time like I wasn’t the one who brought your pitiful family together, like I wasn’t the one who made you rest, and brought you food, right? Like I was the one who didn’t argue with the prince for you to FUCKING REST?!” “M-Mc-“ wavered Lucifer’s voice as he raised his hand to grasp your limp hand. You merely swatted it away and only looked at him with the hatred he never wished to see in your eyes. “Fuck off Morningstar, you pushed me to fucking far, you’ve lost it.”
And with that, you walked to Mammon as you yanked his earring out of his piercing ignoring his screams and the obvious blood from his ear. “You brought this on yourself the moment you decided to sell the jewels of my dead grandmother, you sick fuck. It was a damn mistake sticking up for you in hopes that you would change, but who am I kidding? You really are a useless scumbag that can never change.” You stated as you ignored his cries of pain and heartbreak and walked towards the demon of envy.
“You know what you’re doing, aren’t you? With all the self deprecating shit.” You gestured to him with a frown. “You really are pathetic, with nothing but a damn fish, and an anime waifu to run to when things go even the slightest bit wrong.” You only smirked at his expression as you muttered “Fucking deadbeat of a demon.” And walked off the the Wrath incarnate.
You grabbed his collar as you glared at him. “Shaking aren’t we? You pretentious fuck. Let me tell you something satan, you will always be a copy of Lucifer. No matter what you do, you will always be mean, sadistic, and utterly useless as that miserable demon there.” You gestured to a fallen Lucifer. “The only thing you’re good for is taking care of animals, or I thought you were, but it all went down the drain when you killed that poor bird for annoying you.” And with that you flung his head back and walked to the twins, who were shivering in fear. You looked at Beelzebub as your eyes relatively softened at him. You then put a gentle hand on his shoulder, “The only thing wrong with you is your uncontrollable gluttony, atleast you actively cared for me when everyone was chiding me…” you trailed off and went to his twin much to the giant’s surprise, as he unconsciously touched the spot where you grabbed him gently, unlike his twin, who was currently shaking like a leaf under your glare.
“Ahhh, my murderer…” He only looked at you pleadingly as you only hardened your glare. “What was it you said? That the only reason I’m still alive and liked by everyone is because of the fact that I’m the descendant of your dead sister?” He only shrunk in front of you as you continued, “You’re pathetic, manipulative, and extremely untrustworthy. Belphegor. Maybe I shouldn’t have let you free.” And with that, you walked, completely ignoring asmodeus, but instead spot on him and walked towards the prince as he merely kept his head down, waiting for his turn silently.
“Take me back to the human realm. I do not wish to stay here anymore.”
“MC PLEASE-“
“Did I fucking stutter? I refuse to stay in a house full of murderers and abusers.”
And with that, he spoke no words as he and the butler left with you in tow, as you didn’t bother looking back at those still kneeled on the floor, calling for you.
It was then you turned and looked at them with eyes devoid of any love they were delusional enough to notice for them and said the following words that would break their hearts for eons to come.
“You all mean nothing to me. Not now, not ever.”
Alas, if only they actually cared for you when you still loved them…
Thinking about the Miss Em episode of obey me and how Mc would react to coming back from wherever they are and seeing the whole Devildom obsessed with this stuffed toy and then figuring out it’s meant to represent them
gracieabrams
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
ellievsbear
