#astan

“Go away.”

Satan doesn’t even glance over his shoulder to see who opened his bedroom door. It doesn’t matter. He’s in the middle of an important chapter and he doesn’t intend to be interrupted. Even so, he continues to listen as he finishes his paragraph: footsteps shuffling, hesitant, the soft click of the door and movement toward his bed. He huffed with annoyance.

“I said-“ he begins, stopping when he feels the body push to press against his back, soft hands slipping around his chest. He squirms instinctively, a proper scowl breaking now as he prepares to shove his lustful brother off his bed.

“Asmo! I told you, I’m not-“

“Satan.”

Satan cuts of his hiss, as the sound of a hitching breath in Asmo’s voice stops him. He stills, listening, before tilting his head to try and catch a glimpse of Asmodeus’s face. He can’t – its pressed too tightly against his shoulder blades, and Satan can only see the edge of Asmo’s shoulders as they give a shudder.

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking. Asmo sniffles, rubbing his nose against Satan’s back.

‘You’re going to get snot all over my shirt,’ he thinks. Aloud he says, “What happened?”

“…nothing…I just…” Asmo swallows, trying to find a way to express what he’s feeling. Nothing happened and everything happened: how does he explain that? Sometimes, the despair just gets too much. Sometimes he feels crushed by the work he does to try and keep everyone together. To keep everyone a family. He hates the thought of anyone seeing his most important acting role slip, certainly he can’t allow anyone to see his face so red and puffy.

“Can I just…stay? Please?” he whispers, too weary to even add a drop of simpering to his request.

Satan stares over his book at his bedroom wall, feeling how tightly Asmo’s hands cling to the front of his shirt. ‘Why me?’ he wonders silently. The newest of the brothers, the most unpredictable, certainly the one least likely to allow such an invasion into his space.

Though, Satan supposed, he was certainly the most familiar with being swept up in one’s emotions.

“Okay,” he finally says simply, shifting to lay over Asmo’s arm more comfortably. He hears Asmo give an exhale and another sniffle, feels him melt with relief. Satan can’t quite relax himself, unused to being so close to another body. It’s alien, the feeling of Asmo’s heart racing against his back.

Alien. But not so bad.

obligatory impulsive cryp07 mlp au bcuz people liked my brainstorming instead of murdering me on sight ✌️✨