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fanfic writer! obsessed with obey me! 20!

[zaynesplushiekiller]

hi everyone! truthfully the reason i havent been posting fics is because 1. im employed and 2. ive been watching marble hornets religiously and i commd my buddy to draw tim wright which i thought id share with you all

merry christmas in july!

[zaynesplushiekiller]

laying on top of you and sort of crushing you is march 7th, her hands are wrapped underneath you, and every time her fingers tense in her sleep, you can feel it. on your left side lay dan heng, one of his arms slung haphazardly on top of march, clenching a fist full of sunday's pajamas, unintentionally pulling him closer to you. on your right is sunday, his hands curled tightly next to your cheek, where you feel one of his wings fluttering with the cool breeze of the fan above you.

despite how adorable the scene is, and you know you all look cute- you are not comfortable in the slightest; dan heng's tail is wrapped so tight around your leg, you're pretty sure you lost feeling in it ten minutes ago. march makes it hard to breathe as you try and limit the amount of air you intake as to not disturb her. and sunday... he's actually fine, all things considered. though, his feathers are so light against your skin it tickles, so that's his vice.

and god forbid you adjust in any way, if you wake up even one of your sleeping companions, you won't hear the end of it. so you stay laying quietly. the fan above you is nice, and your pillow is extra soft. you're comfy, warm, and surrounded by love. you're pretty sure the kitty stuffed animal you've slept with every night is... somewhere? hopefully not on the floor.

in her sleep, march rolls over, and with a little bit of maneuvering on your end, she slots in between you and sunday perfectly. now you can finally sleep!

just as you roll over, watching dan heng's sleepy face with revere, a fuzzy feeling washes over you. his face is relaxed when he sleeps, a stark contrast to his normal face. you want to kiss his nose, but you're too afraid of waking him up, so you watch in blissful silence. now that his hand isn't pulling sunday in, it rests on your hip. as slow as possible, you draw your hand up his skin until it reaches his cheek. if you weren't trying to be quiet, you'd giggle at how he leans in. even in his sleep, he seeks you.

[zaynesplushiekiller]

you stand in front of lucifer's study, staring intently at the door. he has an open-door policy, and while his brothers don't pay attention to it, you do. but... the door to his study is just slightly ajar, you can't even see into the room unless you press your entire face against the wood, and you didn't want to do that. so, you stand and ponder.

is it open enough to be considered open? or closed enough to be considered closed?

you push the door open just enough to get a peak inside at your favorite demon, and almost jump when he instinctively looks up at you. the amount of paperwork on his desk could probably cause a flood to a small country, but he leans back and smiles at you, an invitation to enter.

"i was waiting for you to come in. you stood out there for quite awhile, were you waiting for me to open the door?"

"uh... no." you explain the situation, a little sheepishly. he smiles fondly at you all the same, pushing his chair back enough to give you space to sit. his body physically relaxes when you get yourself comfortable, and he relishes in the way you rub his shoulders.

"was there something you needed, love? or have you just come to keep me company?"

"i want to bother you for a bit. i miss you."

"miss me?" his raises an eyebrow. "you saw me this morning, and this afternoon, and about two hours ago. i must've underestimated my charm."

"hey... be sweet, okay? i could go see mammon or satan-"

"no, no, forgive me for speaking out of turn."

"that's what i thought." you kiss his lips, pressing your forehead to his. "i'm just feeling a little lonely today, that's all."

to amplify your point, you cup his cheeks with your hands, and press kisses all over his face. then, you trail down, kissing his jawline and neck. hearing the pleased noises he makes, you pull down his shirt to press one final kiss between his neck and shoulder.

his hand catches your chin, nudging you up to face him. "i see... just lonely? well, let's see if there's something we can do to fix that."

[zaynesplushiekiller]

there is seldom time in your day-to-day life where you can just relax with lucifer. legs intertwined with one another, his head on your chest and your fingers brushing through his raven locks. he lets out a content sigh and you take that as a 'you're doing good' sign.

demons only purr if they're feeling extra content, and most demons have unique sounds. mammon's purr sounds most akin to a kitty-cat, especially when his mouth is right next to your ears. levi is more of a garbled noise, he sounds underwater; it freaked you out the first time you heard him.

but lucifer and satan both sound like they're growling, it's honestly kind of scary. deep rumbling from their chests, you think if the noises were louder, the room would shake beneath them.

"you sound like a cat," you murmur, "so cute. i love you!"

he scowls. "excuse you? i'm not a cat."

"i didn't say that." you pinch his cheeks, guiding his face until he's looking up at you. he looks only mildly discontented, so you squeeze his cheeks again. "i said you sound like a cat. 'sides, what's wrong with that? you didn't even answer my other thing."

"what was it?"

"i love you! say it back."

he scoffs, lifting his head and scowling at you once more. "should i? you've insulted me. you'll have to work for my forgiveness."

"what! nu uh! that's not fair!" you can't hide your giggles, and he can't hide the smile that forms on his face when you laugh. he points to his cheek, and then his lips, waiting.

"go on."

you sigh dramatically, but relent. once you start covering his face in kisses, it's hard to stop. cheeks, lips, nose, forehead. he deserves this, that you know. the gentle warmth of a lovers kiss, embrace, more. he's lucky to have you- and you're lucky to be with him.

"i feel like mammon, i just want more of you," his lips ghost your fingers, "but... ah, i'm forgetting something, aren't i? i love you too."

all is well.

[zaynesplushiekiller]

inspired by molt by @hiddenonyx

i love this piece so much and cannot recommend it enough! the following fic is much less angsty than the original though! (i fear i cant let lucifer suffer too much lol)

-

Your right hand rests on the knob to the door of Lucifer's room, your left hand continues to scroll through weeks of unread messages from your favorite demons and angels. Though you considered the Devildom your home now, that didn't mean you never returned to the human world to visit your friends and family. Besides, sometimes even you needed a break from the chaos of the House of Lamentation.

However, clearly this break was ill-timed, as you had come to find out. Feet having barely touched the pristine marble of the Demon Lord's castle, and Barbatos was already ranting to you in that hushed-but-annoyed tone he usually took when discussing Solomon. This time, though, it was for Lucifer.

Lucifer?

Seriously?

You listened to the butler's rants as he made you a snack before you were to return to the HOL. He phrased it as a "warning, of sorts"- Lucifer had become more irritable than ever, snapping at Diavolo and disappearing mid meetings, so the Devildom (and the Prince himself) had become a mess in his absence. Alright then... through sickness and health, right?

Reading through Mammon's messages, you sucked out your breath. 'Lucifer's snapped at Beel. I tried to ask what he did, but Beel didn't even know! What's gotten into him?!', and then scrolling through a few more messages, 'He's molting. Damnit.'

You didn't really know too much about molts, with most of your information being confined to the sparse tidbits you'd hear from Simeon or even Diavolo. Simeon likes to sit with you, though he's not a fan of you plucking his wings for him, he will hand you all the feathers that are coming out, or that have grown in incorrectly. Spending time with you is one of his favorite love languages, after all.

Though... you didn't know molts were particularly painful, Simeon mentioned them being "bothersome", but that was the extent of it, no?

You opened the door to Lucifer's bedroom, and the first thing you notice is the smell. It's not overt, but there's a slight tinge of iron and... almost body odor? That or dread, you're not sure which answer makes you feel worse. You could expect it from Belphie or Leviathan, who both have a tendency to hunker down and not get out of their rooms for days at a time, but Lucifer? Like, 'Mr. Always Dressed Up and Fancy' Lucifer? Laying in his own filth? Rotting away into nothingness?

"Ah, it's you." His voice is strained, and cracks when he first speaks. There's several ways you could go about this situation, each seeming just as difficult as the next. Do you ask, do you leave? What can you do? Do you offer your heart and try to comfort? Or do you try and tough-love it? "I didn't know you'd be back so soon. I'm afraid it's not a good time."

You ignore his not-so-subtle way of telling you 'leave', sitting at the edge of his bed. You've only seen Lucifer's wings a handful of times (and most of those times have been when he's tried to kill you, yay?), but you're sure they're not supposed to look the way they do right now. There is blood caked around some of the fallen feathers, and the ones that are still attached to his black wings don't seem to look like they belong. Like you've seen Simeon do before, you reach out and give one of the feathers the lightest tug. It doesn't give you any struggle, so you decide to take a closer look.

Just as you're inspecting the faded-black color, Lucifer sits up in bed, and takes it from you. "I will not ask you again, lamb. Leave." His tone is only vaguely threatening, but it's hard to take him seriously when he looks as hot of a mess as he does right now.

"I, um, don't really want to do that." You reply, reaching your hand to cup his cheek. Getting a closer look at his face fills you with even more dread (if that's possible), his cheeks are sunken and the bags under his eyes have only gotten darker. His hair seems thin and greyer than you remember. He looks like shit. You had taken every word Barbatos had said seriously, but even he didn't know the extent of it.

"There is nothing you can do," he senses your question even before you ask it, "I'm afraid my decision was made hastily, and cannot be taken back."

"Like- decision to molt? I thought it was natural."

"Obviously. Though the body needs to be in a state where it can handle such a change."

"Oh..." Why the hell would he do that to himself? You've known Lucifer for some time now, and know he's the most prideful person in the world, so why would he- first, why would he continue to let his body rot? Why would he give himself so much stress to make the natural process stop? And second, why did he decide to let it continue at the most random time? Good grief! "Well... alright, but I think I can help a little. I'll run you a bath and get you some tea?"

Lucifer sighs deeply, and you can feel it in your own diaphragm. "Very well, if you are so stubborn that I cannot force you to leave me be-"

"I'm not going anywhere. Sue me."

-

Washing away weeks of grime and built-up emotion is soothing, you think. You sit on the edge of Lucifer's bath, humming while you scrub away at the blood that had stained around his back and arms. You don't ask about the clearly self-inflicted scratch marks, and don't pry about the barely-fading scars. His wings are a little annoying, and get in the way, but you don't really mind too much. The pile of feathers that grow by your feet keep you entertained when you get up to check your phone, or to stretch. You keep a mental tally for funsies.

Your notifications are empty for the most part, save for one text from Diavolo. You lean against the bathroom counter, opening your messages.

'Please let me know if Lucifer is alright.'

Your fingers hesitate over the letters, typing and deleting the same message a few times over. There's not one proper way to describe the situation, you know the person you love is suffering, and you know Diavolo loves Lucifer enough to want the truth rather than a pretty lie. But that lead you to the other problem, Lucifer had said some really, awful hurtful things to Diavolo. A part of you was afraid to amplify how much Lucifer was suffering, on the off-chance that it would downplay the pain Dia was also going through, if Barbatos' warning was anything to go by.

You decide on this: 'He's not dying, but I think you both would feel better if you spoke face-to-face.'

You're not sure if it's the perfect move to make, but Lucifer had admitted that part of his struggle was because of how he had treated the people around him. It won't fix everything, but a genuine conversation will help- that was how you saw the situation, at least.

On a roll for now, you change Lucifer's sheets while he gets dressed, and only feel your own body start to relax once you're sitting with him in his bed once more. Things aren't perfect or fixed, but it's much easier to feel better in a clean environment after a shower- you hope the sentiment is shared with your beloved. Even if it wasn't, at least his room was (mostly) clean.

And, you think, Diavolo would appreciate Lucifer not living in his own filth.

When he arrived, you took the opportunity to slip out of Lucifer's bedroom, giving them their space. You had done what you could, helping Lucifer relax and breathe for a little bit. You were proud of that, you thought.

"Are you not going to come back in-?"

You jump, nearly dropping your phone. Diavolo's head peeks out of Lucifer's bedroom, and he holds his hand out for you to take. "I want to say thank you for your kindness properly."

[zaynesplushiekiller]

"i got a question for ya."

mammon's voice breaks over the bubble that's grown around you and your phone. you've spent half the day scrolling mindlessly through devilgram while he paces around your bedroom. when you tried to ask what he was procrastinating, he huffed and groaned and refused to tell you- so probably devildom law or something like that. mammon always whined whenever the class required more writing than practice.

"hit me." you answer, turning off your phone and sitting up in bed. he's in the same place you last saw him, hovering in front of your bed. if he's not pacing, then he's picking you up and running around the house of lamentation with you, ignoring the way you tell him to put you down. and if not that, then he's talking incessantly about his latest scheme.

all in all, normal for him.

"why do ya keep choosing me?"

?!

your eyebrows furrow, and your lips pout a bit. "what? what do you mean?" you ask, crossing your arms. does he like... not want you to? wasn't the whole point of dating someone choosing them? (well, "dating" might still be too strong of a word. admittedly neither of you had verbally confirmed it, he never introduced you as "his partner", and you hadn't really called him your "boyfriend" yet. but whatever you *were* was definitely more than just friends.)

"i had a dream." he hesitates, but ultimately sits at the edge of the bed, unable to keep still. "that- ya know, we were together. like... married and all that. and... it made my chest hurt, 'cause in the dream, ya always had the choice of someone else, and ya never took it. and it just made me think- y'know, ya keep choosing me. i know i'm nothing, 'specially compared to lucifer or satan. they're smart and lucifer's reliable and perfect. i'm nothing like that. so... i just keep thinking, why me?"

your throat tightens, and the only action you can take that feels right is to wrap your hands around him, pressing your cheek against his back. he's warm, you know he's heating up even through the fabric of his shirt. "mams." your voice is muffled from the position, so you move to sit on your knees, and mammon can feel your breath on the back of his ear. "do i really need to answer this? i love you for you. i love satan and lucifer too, but you're *my* mammon. you're the sun to my moon. you're everything. can't i love you for that alone?"

"well, yeah- but-"

"don't interrupt during the program, please!" his little chuckle makes you smile instinctively. "you love me for me, right? for or despite all of my flaws, my inability to stay out of harms way, and to always get in business that doesn't involve me. and you like me for that, right? i like you too, okay? you're silly, and not the smartest, sure, but you're my mammon. you're kind and accepting, even when you shouldn't be. so... i appreciate that. even dream me loves you as much as possible."

"jeez, you're being too sweet now!" he huffs, though you don't miss the way he turns to give you a kiss. "ya know... i really needed to hear that. but that's all, got it? no more, i can't handle it."

you giggle, warm and bright. "maybe next i'll tell you about how gorgeous you look, should i start from the top or bottom?"

[zaynesplushiekiller]

you are deeply emotional.

tears being coaxed out of your eyes when satan yells at lucifer over nothing, or when lucifer loses his mind at mammon for the same reason. you can hide it, but there's always a strong pull of your lips when you get sad, and your eyebrows are too easily furrowed.

today is, for the most part, fine. you accidentally cursed levi much harder than necessary during class, and you almost tripped over your shoes- but those things happened pretty often. so... a pretty okay day, all things considered.

but tonight was going to be great! you and mammon had plans to hangout and watch movies early into tomorrow. he was going to get snacks and you were going to pick out the movies to watch, maybe that new documentary on cats satan was showing you? or that new anime movie levi wanted you to watch, claiming that it was so bad it was good. a fun night of laughter was perfect for you and mammon.

though, as the night went on. you began to do less watching and more chatting. movies played in the background as you and him stuck together on your bed, your cheeks practically smushed together. it was hard to tell where you ended, and mammon began, but it was nice all the same.

"y'know what this reminds me of?" mammon asked, pointing at the tv.

"wuzzat?"

he snickers, turning to face you. "one time, asmo dropped his wallet, right? and i try t' hand it back to him, and he freaks. thinks i'm tryna steal it. he spent the whole day yelling at me. all my brothers got in on it, too."

"but you got it cleared up, right?" you ask, feeling that familiar pang of guilt in your chest.

"nah. think he still thinks i stole it. but it doesn't matter, huh?"

your lips quiver in a way that's all too familiar, only responding with a little 'oh' to mammon's words. but... he didn't even do anything wrong! mammon wasn't a saint or anything, but he was actually trying to do good and they just beat him down!

mammon reaches out to cup your face, eyebrows furrowing. "what? why're ya crying?" and his face grows more confused when you're unable to properly answer him, covering your face with your hands to try and stabilize yourself. when that doesn't work, you fully pull away from him, pressing the backs of your cold hands to the bottom of your eyes.

"i'm not crying 'cause of you, dummy," you finally answer, "well, a little. that's so mean! you're so nice, why are they always so mean to you?"

mammon snickers again, snaking his hands around your waist. "aw c'mon, sugar, don't give me that. it's not that big a deal."

you huff in response. "mammon... if you won't be mad, i'll be mad for you. it's not fair, and i'm gonna cry again thinking about it. you're so-" you hiccup a bit. "you're just really nice, and, and... you always do things for your brothers! you make lucifer coffee, and you go to beel's games all the time! and- and- it's just not fair. you're flawed, yeah, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve.... kindness!"

when you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into a tight hug, it's his instinct to kiss the crown of your head. you spend almost every night together like this, but seeing you so emotional over him makes this one feel different.

"hey, hey, don't cry on me." he soothes. "it's alright, y'know i'm used to-"

"noooo!" you squeeze his cheek, holding his face close to yours. "you shouldn't be!! you shouldn't have to. ugh, i'm gonna cry again!"

"alright, alright, hold on. listen t' me, okay? 's long as you're here with me, nothing none of my brothers say matters. got it? so don't go crying about me! the great mammon never wants to make you cry!"

his face only relaxes once you giggle, and he peppers kisses to your face. "there, that's what i wanna see! don't you ever cry over me again, got it!?"

[zaynesplushiekiller]

most recent posts have been bangers i cant wait for people to check my profile and see the last time i posted was december of 2024

[zaynesplushiekiller]

"live wire..."

typically volt is a man of many words, seducing you in dollied-up speech- but tonight, it seems like *you* have the upper hand instead. pretty white lingerie, the color looks almost identical to volt's electrifying hair, if just an off shade.

he's respectful with his hands (surprisingly), keeping them to his sides. for once, it seems like the spokesman of the breaker box is reduced to just a viewer. but you don't ignore the way his fingers tremble or threaten to shoot out, to touch. unlike eddie, volt knows when he needs to keep his hands to himself, he's a patient man, if only for time being.

"my, live wire, may i ask... what's the occasion? for... this."

"occasion? what? did you think i was dressing up for *you*?" you revel in the way his face drops, and then the way it lights up again when you climb into his lap. but you relent, his face is just too gorgeous to be mean to. "aw, aren't you being so cute? you're making it hard to want to tease you. i just wanted to dress up pretty. so, go on, tell me how good i look."

he hesitates for only a second, eyes flashing behind you, and then back to your form. you know what that look means, there's someone standing behind you. well, that 'someone' will just have to wait until you acknowledge him, won't he?

"live wire, you're ethereal looking... but you must know i think that, when have i ever been speechless apart from looking at you? may i- please, may i touch? if only with my lips, they are the only part of me worthy enough to grace you with."

no matter how sweet or elegant volt was, the way he sweet talked you during sex (or foreplay, in this case) always made you more giddy than usual. but you bite back your excited giggle, giving him a quick nod instead. you won't be the one to ruin the show for eddie.

true to his words, he only touches you with his lips. kisses to your chest and stomach, ghosting over your skin in a way that can only be described as electrifying. literally, too, you're almost certain you can feel tiny electric shocks wherever he kisses. and although you might be imagining it, you're starting to think you can feel shocks from the tent in his pants. if it didn't feel so good, you'd pull away- he hasn't earned that right yet, has he?

he pulls away, lips puffy and red, surely in a pout. you can hear his pleas before he says them, and you can hear the unbuckling of eddie's pants behind you, but you don't give either of them the light of day. why should they get all the fun, huh? you're the one dressed all pretty, not eddie or volt. they can wait.

the pace you set is, for volt, absolutely agonizingly slow. damn his thicker dress pants, he can barely feel you when you grind- if only you were kind enough to let him pull them down, he wouldn't even take his cock out! he'd be so good, and he's never this cruel when he fucks you! he feels his head fall over the back of the armchair he's sitting in, pants in his chest building up the more you move. he's not even sure when you start to move faster, or when you get close. he's absolutely blinded by the feeling of you, even if it's not as strong as he wants. when you get close to your peak, you make a keening noise, grit your teeth. volt only realizes you've started making those noises when-

you stop.

"live wire? are you not-?"

"take off your pants."

who is he to deny you of that indulgence? he hasn't been sitting here this whole time wishing you'd ask him that, no, he's completely nonchalant of the whole thing. that's why volt unbuckles his belt faster than he's ever done in his whole life, and- he is so smitten with you, he realizes. even thinking about getting to fuck you (or you fuck him, in this case) is making his cock red. fuck, fuck, fuck. your thigh brushes against him, and he feels your lace panties hit the tip of his dick just right, and he can see eddie in the background, dick in hand, waiting for you to move, fuck, fuck.

he slams his head back into the chair as he cums, almost completely untouched. he whimpers, feeling the heat pooling in his stomach, did he cum from the thought of you and eddie alone? there's no way, right?

but your eyes widen, and you reflexively lean back in his lap, watching the cum drip down his shirt and your thighs. he doesn't feel embarrassed, not as much as he thought he would. of course, the scene might've been a little pathetic, but of course! he loves you and eddie so much that just thinking about you in pleasure makes him orgasm!

you do have a little concern in your eyes, rubbing his arms gently. "do you still want to...?" oh, he loves you.

"yes, please, live wire. we must... continue the show, for our sweetheart viewer."

even when you pull off your lingerie, and he's able to see your body without the lace panties and bra, volt thinks he's never been more in love. you do look lovely with it on, but there's something so entrancing about seeing you with nothing on. your body by itself, nothing to change the way you look... ah, maybe he's just obsessed with you... but if you asked him, he'd say the same thing about eddie, too. thinking about his big arms and the scars all over his body... volt might cum again.

no matter how often you sink yourself onto him, the feeling is always the same. you're warm and so very snug. and he knows he feels just as good as you, if the moans and gasps you let out are anything to go by. fucking you feels as good the hundredth time as it is the first time. knowing that, as good as he feels right now, you feel just as good, if not better?

when you start moving, volt lets you set the pace. he's still a gentleman, though, letting his hands rest at your hips and guiding you whenever you start to stutter with moving. he can't even look away from you, as much as he wants to see eddie's face when he gets close. you look so beautiful like this, the dim lights of the speakeasy on your face, the sweat starting to just line your forehead and chest. and then your eyes, the way they close and the way your jaw tightens. he can't get enough of you, not when you look like *this*.

"v-volt," your voice is shaky, "f-fuck, i'm so close, i want to cum with you, please? please, please, please." your words dissolve into mindless begging, but volt can't say he's doing much better.

"of course, live wire." he murmurs, watching your jaw lock and your eyes squeeze shut. and when you cum, he takes in the look you make for only a second before he can feel his eyes shut, and heat wash over him. but that image of you? the sound of his name in your mouth... in your time of need? it'll be filed away in his mind for future use, that's for sure.

he takes much longer than you to come to, blinking away the hot post-orgasm feeling. and by then, you've already pulled off of his dick, breathing heavily. volt knows what comes next, and his eyes draw to eddie's form.

"what'd you think, lover?" you ask him, breathless. "come here, did you get off? i'll suck you off if you didn't."

"don't worry about it." eddie huffed- is volt hallucinating? does eddie sound as fucked out as you? did the two of you really put on such a good show? "just... why don't you put that lingerie back on? i don't think i got to see enough of you in it."

[zaynesplushiekiller]

your lips press against mydei's scarred skin in such a feverish manner, he almost wonders if you're crossing the line between your usual body worship, or into something that might be a little more hands on. it's an unspoken ritual between you two, when he comes home from a long battle. sometimes you kneel before him (which never lasts long- he's the crown prince to his people, not to you), sometimes you sit behind him, sometimes you lay on top of him. the position doesn't matter, it changes more often than he can count. he's not a man of many words, but you seem worked up tonight, so he has to ask.

"what's the matter with you?" mydei isn't gentle, but he knows you're more emotional than him... and he realizes his less-than-thoughtful wording might be the cause of the pout on your face. "don't look at me like that- why are you treating me like a dying man?"

you scoff, pushing yourself up so you're sitting next to him rather than on top of him. "i missed you, i want you to know that. what, oh mr. crowned prince of castrum kremnos, oh great mydeimos, is that a crime?"

"you're being crass. is it on purpose?"

"hey!"

though mydei knows he's not the softest man around, he tries to be gentle when he handles you. his calloused hands guide you to move, rather than him picking you up and doing it himself. in some ways, this is what you've taught him- the patience of a domestic home life, rather than the harsh and fast-paced battlefield he's used to. you're kind and tender, it'd be difficult to not have similar tendencies after spending time with you.

he likes it when you sit on him, rather than next to him. he knows it's unbefitting of a king or prince, to have someone on top of them, but your position is the most simple reminder that with you, he's just mydei.

[zaynesplushiekiller]

the scene around you is peaceful and serene, a quiet night at the hospital with zayne isn't something you had thought you needed, but sitting on the bench with him in the silence is proving rejuvenating. the snow around you, the moon illuminating his relaxed face, everything is so calm. it's lovely, a much needed break after your stressful day.

"these somber moments..." zayne whispers, his voice barely audible. "makes me acutely aware of how fleeting my time with you is."

oh, okay.

"zayne... stupid." you huff, giving him a pretty major side eye. "don't you already know? i'm going to be by your side forever. you're going to get sick of me before you can get away from me."

his smile is to die for, and the little breathy laugh from him catches your voice in your throat. "really, now?" he asks, the tone in his voice makes your heart. "who's to say you won't get sick of me first?"

"of course you'd think that! we both know i'm far more adept at annoying people than anyone else!"

"i'd have to disagree." zayne chuckles at the way your mouth falls open. "you sweet thing, you've never annoyed me before."

[zaynesplushiekiller]

"i love you."

zayne's whispered words don't fall on deaf ears, you're not actually asleep. though your eyes were screwed shut and you hadn't moved in a good six minutes, you were wide awake. but he didn't need to know that.

"how lucky i am..." he continues, voice so soft you almost can't hear it. "to be able to find you over and over again. i love you."

his hands trace over your face, ice cold fingers meaninglessly draw patterns on your cheeks and his thumb relaxes over your lips. a thought crosses your mind, if he wasn't afraid of waking you up, you can imagine he'd continue letting his hands roam endlessly. was he trying to plant every inch of you in his mind? to remember until time itself ends?

"i want to be selfish and stay here forever." zayne loves you so much, he wonders if he can say the words endlessly to let them stay in your mind for as long as possible. if given the chance, would you replace him with someone else? he wants to repeat these words until you can't fathom being with away from him. he loves you so much, the selfish desire dies before it can reach his lips. he would still love you if you chose someone else.

but doesn't he know? you've already long forgotten anyone besides him.

"i love you."

his hands stop tracing your face, instead remaining stagnant against your cheek so he can kiss your forehead. his lips are as cold as his hands.

"i love you too." you whisper back, opening one eye to see how red his cheeks get.

[zaynesplushiekiller]

i need bootgill...... upiygh.......... I need him ...... I'm dying of dysentery and only one of your fics will save me ....

- 🍁

vulnerability is not allowed.

to be undefended is to be weak, and to be weak is to guarantee your demise. to allow even a single moment of sanctity is a chance at death. boothill is very aware of these terms.

so why? why does he let his guard down? why does he take a chance at breaking a rule he was practically created with? why should he even gander a dream of being safe?

you have the most gorgeous smile. it doesn't matter what the smile brings- happiness, mischief, anything- it doesn't matter. he feels like he's under the sun with you, he feels like he's the star itself when you smile.

"keep going! tell me more about your penacony expedition. something about a 'dan heng'?"

"oh darlin', let me tell you..."

it's in his nature to show off a little, but he does it tenfold if you ask. to show you the best version of himself, he lies a little, parades a little more, he does it all so you smile a little more.

at first he did it because if he told you he fought more enemies than he did, you'd be less likely to challenge him. though, deep down he knew you never would. it made him feel less vulnerable, more guarded.

but then he got sucked in by your smile, your sweet face, and now he doesn't even contemplate his own resilience.

have you done this? made him weak?

you smile, and it gives him his answer.

[zaynesplushiekiller]

"you are so beautiful." the words roll off of your tongue, voice blending in with the sound of asmo's fan- the one he always keeps running so he doesn't get too hot.

"of course i am, darling! how ever could i be the one and only asmodeus, if i wasn't gorgeous?"

his response is always the same no matter the compliment you give. indicative of him not understanding the depths of your words. he knows he's beautiful, but he doesn't understand it the way you do. or at least the way you think you do.

your hands are cold, though the feeling of them grasping at his face is a momentary shock. the real shock comes after you've held him, his eyes locking onto your own. there's a look of... something asmo can't quite put his finger on, more intense than love could ever be, but absent of the lust that fills the eyes of those who look at him.

"you don't understand," you huff out, "the 'beautiful' you hear is not the 'beautiful' i am trying to convey."

"what do you mean, hon?"

it's hard to collect your thoughts into words, given that you were a little emotional and a little tipsy, but you were soon overcome with the need to explain, to elaborate.

"when i see you, i don't see what they do." your hands cover his eyes. "they see your looks, your bravado. not your love, your warmth, how much you care. when i want to say 'you're beautiful', i want to say 'you are the stars in the sky, the sun, the moon. your soul encapsulates what happiness is to me.' does that make sense?"

your compliments are always thought-provoking, but in the way that makes asmodeus wonder if god still loves him though he chose to fall.

[zaynesplushiekiller]

i wish there was something similar to a dtiys but for writing (◞‸◟) but i guess thats just kind of prompts isnt it??

[zaynesplushiekiller]

I loved your Zayne post and I need to see you make one for Xavier NOW. Heart emoji

- 🍊

"happy birthday." his voice is soft and serene, and you barely even rise when xavier shakes you awake. he sounds like an angel, and his words don't register until he's practically shaken you off the bed.

the curtains to your bedroom are open and the sun has begun its dance on your covers, but not enough to disturb you and shine on the pillows. xavier definitely timed this, didn't he?

"happy birthday to you~ happy birthday to you," he sings, helping you sit up in bed and placing a small wrapped present on your lap. "did you forget? today is your day."

no, you didn't forget, but it's early in the morning and you're surprised that xavier is even up. for someone who sleeps on the job at any given opportunity... he's awfully chipper today.

"why are you up so early?" you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. there's a smell of breakfast food in the air and for a second your heart picks up its pace- oh no, he didn't try to cook, did he?!

"what's with that look in your eyes?" he asks, sitting next to you on the bed. "i woke up early to wrap your present and order some breakfast... don't tell me you're so shocked i can do that?"

the look of calm settling over your face tells him more than your words. he wants your reaction to be overdramatic but he knows himself better than anyone, save for you.

"you should open your gift now."

after taking a moment to wake up fully, you tug open the ribbon on the small present. it's not the neatest design you've ever seen, but it looks like xavier really tried to make the ribbon look good. complemented with the wrapping paper that was just your favorite color... when had you even mentioned that you liked it so much?

it's a small jewelry box, and you open it without much thought. this isn't the first birthday you've gotten cute jewelry as your present but... the ring inside looks awfully nice, doesn't it?

xavier takes the box out of your hands and kneels down next to you on the bed, and it feels like you've been hit by a truck. you've been up for maybe three or four minutes and... he's proposing? what??

"is it too soon?" he asks, taking note of your wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. he can practically see your heart thrumming out of your chest and the way your cheeks flush such an intense red, it almost worries him. "to ask you to marry me...?"

ugh, xavier, that jerk! proposing to you with your hair still messy from sleep, and you haven't even put lotion on!

it's silent for a few more seconds before you realize that he's looking at you with his puppy eyes, and you scramble to get out of the bed to pull him into a hug or kiss or something in between, the action is rushed because 'no, of course it's not too early, i can't believe we're going to get married', but he loves the gesture all the same.

"i was going to wait until we went out tonight but i- i couldn't. i can't wait any longer."

'xavier, xavier, xavier,' you think, 'what am i going to do with you?'

he slips the ornate diamond ring onto your finger, and the action finishes your thought for you.

'i'm going to marry you.'

[zaynesplushiekiller]

it's quiet today.

too quiet, and zayne is acutely aware of it. he knows it's half-past midnight and his shift ended three hours ago, but he can't bring himself to leave his office. it's quiet now, but it might be loud later, and at that point it would've just been easier to stay at his office.

so he did, of course he did.

his work-life balance is nonexistent, and he's not sure when the line of balance became so blurry, was it when he first started working, or was it the day after he knew he would become a doctor? he's not sure, and now it's become too engrained in his mind to just stay a little longer.

the quiet could not last for long, because this is a hospital and it could never last long, but he's surprised when it's a knock on his door and not an emergency code over the intercoms or a message on his pager.

"come in." he calls, but even he is surprised at how quiet his voice is. when's the last time he's had a sip of water?

"dr. zayne~ there you are!" you singsong, walking through his office and arriving in front of his desk. there's a pretty smile on your face and a look in your eyes. zayne has grown accustomed to this look meaning 'you haven't eaten or had a drink or slept in the last twelve hours so here's me bringing you things', and it seems to fill him with something. a feeling of yearning? he's not sure.

before he can say anything, specifically 'why are you here so late?', you sit a plastic bag down in front of him. he already recognizes the logo on the bag as the one from the convenience store down the street, and from only a glimpse inside of the bag, he knows whats inside of it.

"i was going to see if you just wanted to get takeout but then i realized the time, i figured this would be quicker."

"why are you here so late?" he hasn't forgotten the time like you have. it's almost one in the morning now, and you should be home, sleeping. you are a hunter now, after all.

you give him another look, one where you scrunch your nose and look away from him. "i bring you goodies and dinner and you treat me like this?" there's a shift in tone in your voice, and you let out a giggle at the end of your sentence.

cute, but doesn't answer his question.

"thank you for the food. why are you here so late?" you click your tongue in response. always the stickler for rules, isn't he?

"because i knew you'd still be here." he can't argue with that logic, but something both eats at and fills him. you should've been at home, not worrying about him. but the fact that you were worrying about him... well he couldn't deny that the idea made him a little joyful.

"c'mon, eat," you insist, sitting across him at the desk. "i won't even pester you about going home if you do. well- actually, i can't guarantee that." he doesn't respond, only shooting you a look.

"oh! let me tell you about work today..." once you start talking, he doesn't stop you. it's nice to hear your voice, to see your smile.

as he eats the food you brought him, a thought crosses his mind... how deeply he's missed this.