#so I have no idea how the world smells or what is considered a nice scent

[marchessa]

mehhhh

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter nine

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. Mentions of drug use

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Toshinori sends you a text just as you’re walking back from your room.

-> Slways a sad friday without your reports. Hope things are good. THank you for keeping my company moving and for keeping the peace this weekend.

He ends the message with a little flexed bicep emoji-- his little sign for ‘keep fighting’.

A pang of something clangs around in your ribcage. You miss him too. Usually, it’d be strange to consider yourself close with a boss, but Toshinori is different; he’s kind, he’s earnest, he treats you well. His riches are used to improve the world, not line his own pocket-

There’s also a sour feeling that hits your gut. Your position on this trip is borrowed; Toshinori should be here, representing his company, just like he had every other year. You’re only here because he likes you- not because of merit or knowledge. 

That only deepens your dread. No, you aren’t special or smart. You’re just a pity case, here because your boss is dying. And isn’t it selfish to pity yourself? Toshinori is the sick one.

By the time the elevator chimes open, you’re consumed by dread. You slide past the doors and next to the man in there, head tucked down to watch your shoes. They aren’t your silly red ones, but a brand new sensible black kitten heel-- a child’s choice in shoes.

“No hello?” The stranger says. “Thought we had a truce.”

You briefly look at the man, who’s turning your way, and then dip away, embarrassed; the man is cute, well put together, someone who you wouldn’t mind talking to-

-you realize he isn’t a stranger at all. 

It’s a simple black suit, pressed a bit unevenly in the legs, but well fitted across his waist. Aizawa is wearing a dark emerald shirt with no tie, unbuttoned at the top. Even his hair is tidy and hydrated; it’s still wet from the shower, pulled into a tight low ponytail. For the first time maybe ever, he’s clean shaven as well, a little nick on his cheek from the kiss of razor, right under his silvered scar.

He looks good. 

Like. Really good.

It’s a surprise and it also isn’t-- seems like you’re always lured in by a surprise Shouta sighting.

“I didn’t realize it was you in this… get up.” You shift your weight away from him. Does he even have cologne on? It’s not like you expected him to give a speech in his sweatshirt--- well, maybe you did. “I was-- I dunno. Thinking.”

He nods like he knows what that really means.

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m not allowed to think?” you repeat.  “Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?”

He shoots you a glare. “You didn’t even say hello to me-- that isn’t nice either. I figured our treaty was off.”

Ugh. He may have a point. Pretending is going to involve, well, actually pretending. You look him up and down, slapping on your fakest smile. “I’m so happy to see you.” 

Aizawa grimaces as if you’ve slapped him, fingers pressed into his temple like you’ve caused the onset of a migraine. It takes him a moment to mumble out: “The feeling is mutual.”

“At least say it like you mean it,” you demand.

“The fact you are here is just the best.” he says, more enthusiastic than you’ve ever seen the man, but also clearly fake; his lips curls up to the left when he’s lying. He rubs little circles into his skin to help him through the pain of being a decent person. “I’m so grateful you get to watch me present and then report how I did back to my boss.”

Despite yourself, you smile, just a bit.

“That’ll do.”

“For you.” Aizawa repeats it. That's right: he's doing this for your comfort, not his own. That thought wriggles inside you and buries down like a worm.

“Do we need ground rules?” you ask. The elevator dings down, down, down-

“A weekend treaty was my idea, I don’t need stipulations,” Aizawa says, ruffling his hair. It smells like product, something expensive than Hizashi definitely forced upon him.  “I can be civil without rules.”

“Then why are you never civil?” you shoot back, talking before you can think. The doors flick open and Aizawa walks out, giving you a bemused, yet annoying look.

“That’s a very pointed question,” he says over his shoulder. “You might be the one who needs ground rules.”

“Hey!”

--

Mic’s in the hall already when you two arrive. The place would be simply cavernous if it wasn’t filled to the gills with booths. The ceiling glimmers with chandeliers and the classic blue tiling, but the rest of the room is pretty standard-- almost underwhelming. The booth Hizashi’s set up is mild compared to the one’s surrounding it, which makes sense, you guess. It’s not like he could have wheeled a hospital bed into this hotel; just diagrams, brochures, and enough swag to lure even the least interested prospect into his arms. He’s unwrapping a lollipop when he notices you two approaching.

“Wow, wow-” He sizes you up with the candy. The bright red end shines in the light. Someone snags a piece of candy off of the table as they pass; despite the fact the hall isn’t officially open, there’s still a fair amount of people roaming. “Looking good, baby.”

“Which one of us are you talking to?” It takes you a second to realize Aizawa’s kidding.

“You, obviously-” Hizashi says back to him. They both chuckle and it’s horrifying how they do it in the same way: low, rolling, completely un-serious. They really have known each other forever.

“Oh, before I forget-” The blonde spreads out a sticker and a proper name placard. “I grabbed name tags.”

Yours in handwritten in surprisingly nice writing, but Aizawa's is laminated and on a lanyard, his name and degree written in red bold lettering-

“I didn’t know you were a doctor,” you blurt out as he puts it on. Aizawa shifts his weight to his other leg uncomfortably. “Should I be calling you Dr. Aizawa?”

“No.” he dismisses.  “It’s not medical-- It’s a PhD.”

“In Biomedical Engineering, so medical’s in the name, actually-”

Aizawa shoots Hizashi a glare. “You know what I mean. I’m not saving someone from a heart attack. All I do is sit on this damn computer and look at programs and numbers.” Aizawa takes a chair from the neighboring booth- a biotissue company- and drags it to behind the table before flopping down. 

  “You should look around, see what everyone's up to. If you just sit here with us you're just going to stress over your talk.” Hizashi waves him off. “Besides, me and babygirl have it handled.”

Aizawa hunches over in his seat as he drags out his laptop and a pen.

“I want to stress over my talk.”  He taps the capped end of his pen against his teeth, the click audible over the din of the growing crowd. “I want to sit here and be miserable.” 

Hizashi looks at you and waggles his finger beside his head in the ‘this guy’s crazy’ way. Yeah- obviously. You have to hide your giggle as someone walks up to your table and Hizashi launches into his spiel. It’s hard not to watch Aizawa out of the corner of your eye; he is, in fact, sitting down and stressing out. The man has pulled out a tiny laptop and balanced it on his lap, alternating between furiously typing and mashing the back button.

“You okay if he’s here?” Hizashi whispers. Honestly, you’re not thrilled; you had been hoping for a lighthearted day alone with your buddy--

But maybe it can still be a little fun.

“Oh, absolutely,” you say too loudly. “Aizawa and I are buddies.”

You're abusing his kindness for you by pushing him, you know that, but doesn't he deserve it? Just a bit? Aizawa sneers a smile from behind his screen, clearing unamused. 

“Best ‘buddies,’” he says, flat enough you could drive across it. 

Hizashi looks between you. Then, he does it again. 

 “Since when?”

----

The rest of the afternoon continues the same way. Swathes of doctors and investors visit you, half of which ask about Yagi. You tell them all that he’s a fighter. Most understand this means he’s doing poorly. Luckily, Hizashi handles most of the harder questions; it’s amazing to see him in his zone, smooth talking and pitching and just talking so quickly and professionally that you’re almost ready to buy a Prome product yourself. No wonder people have tried to poach him from the company. The customers Prome already has sing his praises and tell you about all the wonderful extra steps he’s taken for them.

You aren’t sure you’re truly nice enough to be a sales rep too.

Aizawa only greets a few people, seemingly ones he knows well or that are well known enough to give his full attention. The worried look never leaves his face, except when you chirp little niceties at each other. 

There’s comfort to it, you find. It’s better than the hot and cold thing you had going on. That bubbling, seasick anger inside of you can be funneled into thinly veiled sarcasm without consequence, with the added benefit of Aizawa seeming to enjoy it as well. 

“Great shirt by the way,” a passerby says. Aizawa looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape enough for a fly to fly into.

“Were they talking to me?”

They actually were, but you can’t let him know that.

“Of course, buddy,” you coo. “It’s a great shirt- did you put this outfit together?”

He gives you a sideways glance as he continues typing away without seeing the keyboard. “I’m forty-- who do you think picks out my clothes? My mother?”

You think he’s actually joking in good faith this time.

“Sesame, maybe.”

He is being silly. He’s even smiling now, a weird thing with too much teeth. “Yes. You’re right. My cats picked out my suit. How silly of me to not credit her for her work.” His tone is horribly flat, but there’s still some charm to it; honestly, with the way he’s carrying on, you wouldn’t be surprised if he really did trust a cat with his clothing.

“Well, tell Sesame that I think you look great.” 

“Thank you.” He adjusts his cuffs, running his fingers down the cotton edge of his shirt. 

“You two are so weird today,” the blonde whines.  “But you aren’t killing each other, so-”

Hizashi sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Keep this up and I’ll buy dinner and drinks tonight-- Fuck, keep this up and I’ll plan your fucking wed-”

“Long time no see, gentlemen.” 

A man, probably not much older than you, comes up to the table. He's seated in a wheelchair, rocking the wheels slightly back and forth. The stranger is exceptionally handsome:  all wide smiles and broad shoulders, his black hair perfectly quaffed back and parted. The downturn of his eyes is dark and pleasant, and it takes your breath away when you realize he's looking at you and only you. 

“I don't think we've met before.” He shakes his head a little as he speaks, back and forth in this delighted disbelief, as if he can't understand why he has never seen you.  “I'm Tensei Iida.”

The name rings a bell, but you can’t quite place it. 

“He's one of the super sexy doctors I was telling you about.” Hizashi says as he nudges you with his hip.  Tensei rolls his eyes in a way that tells you he's actually tickled pink. That’s it-- he’s Aizawa’s presentation partner.

“Oh, stop that,” he says. “Don't listen to Mic- I’m just a normal guy.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Iida.” You take his hand. His grip is firm and dry, and he parts from you with a squeeze. “You work in prosthetics, right?”

“I do.” He flicks his hair out of his eyes like a teenaged dreamboat. What is with this guy? Was he made in a lab to be perfect? “Shouta over there is one of my best patients.”

Aizawa huffs and slaps his computer closed. “I highly doubt that.”

Patient? “I thought you two worked together.”

Tensei rolls his head to the side as he sighs, continuing this fake bashfulness thing. Unfortunately, it’s working for you; he’s sweet and humble, not to mention cute-

“We do.” He speaks so well, you're hanging off every word- “We modeled his leg together.”

Your eyes snap to Aizawa instinctively. Leg?

“Leg?” you say out loud, stupidly. 

Tensei’s air shifts. He turns to Aizawa, knot creased, lips delightfully downturned. “I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

“It’s not.” Aizawa sighs, “I thought everyone knew.” He hems. He haws. Then, the man tugs his pant leg up with one hand and you see a sliver of  gray metal at the ankle. Before you can really look at it, it’s gone, hidden once again. A prosthetic. It may not be a secret, but there’s definitely shame involved.

Everything snaps in place. The way he walks, the way he always shifts his weight-- you have a thousand questions, but none of them are appropriate.

“I didn’t realize,” you say, carefully. Aizawa is avoiding your eye very, very pointedly, but his beautiful friend is enthralled. 

“Wait, really? That’s great to hear!” Tensei rolls forward a bit.  “You didn’t notice anything at all? No difference in motion or-”

“He, uh, stomps, maybe.” You glance over. “Just a little.”

“I’ve always walked heavy-- The mobility is perfect, I told you.”  

“Are stairs the only pain trigger?” Tensei asks.

“That isn’t the prosthetic’s fault, it’s my body’s. I’m always in pain.”

Oh. Oh. You think back to the stairs incident and the bed on the fifth floor. That’s why he called you cruel. Shit. Making him climb all those stairs…. you were being an asshole to a man with a disability and chronic pain. 

God, no wonder he'd been so antagonistic-- he still started it, but maybe you went too far.

“You must love working with this old grump.” Tensei flashes a grin towards you, almost flirtatiously, and that pulls you out of your thought spiral. 

“Well-” You have to swallow your worry. You force a smile and just say:  “Shouta's always nice to me.”

All three men look at you in the same way.

“Really now?” Tensei says, and you’re almost annoyed by it. No, Aizawa isn’t nice, but… well, he’s your enemy, not Tensei’s. He should be nicer to his research partner.

“We're buddies.” Aizawa's dry sense of humor shines through. “Work… married, or whatever the term is.”

Hizashi barks out a laugh and throws his hair over his shoulder, eyes tight with healthy skepticism. “I thought I was your work husband!”

“I have two hands!”

Tensei never stops looking at you. You like how his fingers twitch when he says your name. “You’ve clearly got everyone wrapped around your finger.”

The way he talks. You think he might be wrapped there too.

“That’s just what she wants you to think.” Aizawa stands suddenly.  “Tensei, I changed my mind. Let’s take a look at my leg.”

Another customer has started to look at the booth, so Hizashi is on again. Tensei’s attention seems to only be distracted by the mentions of work. “Right now?”

“Why not?”

Tensei starts to roll up his sleeves. “Alright, take the pants off and we’ll-”

“God, not here.” 

Tensei just nods. “I was joking. I can go back to a room if you want.”

“I do.”

Just as suddenly as he appeared, Tensei leaves with Aizawa in tow. The older man turns and gives you the smallest, barely there nods as a goodbye before disappearing into the thickening crowd. Once Hizashi is free again a couple minutes later, you lean in and mumble.

“Are those secret lovers or something?”

It shocks a guffaw from Hizashi.

“Please, I wish Sho had a dirty little secret like that.” You hope he doesn’t see your eyes widen. “It would take a miracle for Shouta to have a little fuck buddy. He’s still not over-- well, his last thing.”

Last thing? He’s been single for the three years you’ve known him- what thing could he still be holding on to? You don’t have any room to judge -- you’ve been dating Touya since sixteen and can’t move on either.

“Why do you even care? Tensei caught your eye?”

You think about his pretty dark eyes and try to feel something. “Maybe.”

“Oooo-”

--

Your heels ache by the end of the day, so you slip your feet out of them from under the table. The restaurant is busy, both with people and decoration, and somehow even louder than the convention itself. The waitress has just left the second basket of chips - this one still hot from the fryer- because you and Hizashi have already demolished the first one. You should really get actual food to absorb the alcohol in your stomach, but Aizawa texted you to wait for him.

Texted. You.

It’s weird to see a new message under his name, an unread message you can peek at through your notifications. It feels illicit, raunchy, wrong--

Hizashi sucks at the end of his straw until it gurgles on ice. He’s smiley-er than usual-- and drunk as a skunk. Drinking on an empty stomach does that; you’re swaying already too and you're just two margaritas in. The man has his phone out, tinder open for you to swipe through. Men, women: everything wants a piece of Hizashi and you can’t blame them. His blonde hair is tousled ever so slightly, his glasses are halfway down his button nose-

How does Nemuri stop herself from getting jealous of the attention he gets and his looks? 

“Isn’t being here fucking great?” He takes a mouthful of chips.  “We talk all day and drink all night.”

He's trying to wave down your waiter. 

“You gonna text Dr. Tensei?” He lingers on the word doctor, drawing it out with a warm affection.You snort into your own empty glass and lick the salt from the rim. It’s smoked, a little spicy too. You try to blame the burn in your stomach on that, instead of thirty.

“I don’t even have his number!” you try.

Tensei is… well, almost perfect, but… you aren't sure. It's not that you don't want him, but… 

Maybe you're just gunshy. Touya has you scared to let go, move on. You try and think of Tensei and his sweet smile, his stubbled jawline, his downturned eyes and scarred cheek-

No, that's Aizawa you're thinking of. You physically shake the thought away. The last time you drank was when you saw his…

“But, I have his number!”Hizashi sings as he tries to fish an ice cube out with his drink. “I saw that look on your face; I know you’d love to sit on his face-”

“Shh!” You physically try to lower his volume by waving your hands in the air. A waitress passes, giving you both a strange look, but Hizashi just crunches his ice away happily. “I didn’t say that! He’s just--”

Sex isn't a priority for you. It’s not that you don’t like it, but it’s never as life changing and groundbreaking as you want it to be. By the time it started to feel good, Touya’s would be done and half asleep. (Not that you and Touya even had sex that often. The drug use and cheating scared you; he insisted he was safe, but. Well. He promised a lot of things. When you did have sex, it was with a condom and followed by four weeks of panic testing and STI googling.) 

Sex just never seemed worth the stress, you guess. Maybe it’d be different with someone else. Nemuri clearly likes having sex, so do the girls you see on twitter. Maybe you’re broken or something.

“He’s kinda sexy.”  You try to hold on to optimism. 

“He’s awful sexy!” Hizashi agrees. “I’ll slip you his number later-”

“Why not now?” you say.

“What’s now?”

From behind you, Aizawa strolls in, now devoid of his lovely outfit and stripped down to dress pants and a white undershirt. His hair is back into it’s little knotted bun, curls squashed into submission. When he reaches over the table, you can’t stop your drunken self from watching how his bicep flexes, muscle under thick skin. God, maybe you do need Tensei’s number and a good fuck-- you’re acting like a dog in heat over exposed arms. 

Thick arms, with the rounded hint of muscularity, but still. Just arms.

Aizawa tips the basket over and salt scatters across the table. “You guys didn’t save me a single chip.”

When did you guys finish the second one? The man sits next to you, thighs spread just enough to touch you for a moment. Your back straightens at the contact and, after a blink, you move away to give him more space. He smells like tobacco flower and musk, a surprisingly gentle cologne for a brash man.

“That's what you get for being late! There's shots coming-- how's that sound?”  Hizashi says, much too loud. 

A groan escapes you. Uh oh, you forgot about that: it’s time for you to slow down and eat something that isn't fried. Luckily, Aizawa is here now and the waiter is coming. She passes out the shots of tequila, then she’s gone again, giving Aizawa time to look at the menu she's handed him.

“Tapping out this early?” Aizawa asks. His elbow accidentally touches you as he scooches closer. “I’ll have yours if you don't want it.”

“Please do.” You push yours in front of him and Hizashi does the same.

“Miss girl and I have been having fun without you! Catch up, catch up!” he urges.

“I can tell. You’ve over-served her.” 

You resent that, especially since it’s Aizawa’s fault, but you can’t help but laugh. It gurgles out of you, a bit too drunkenly. “I just need to eat.” 

“The chips weren’t enough?”

“No!” Your mouth is running without your brain. “Ugh, I hate being drunk, I always text people that I shouldn’t.”

Hizashi and Aizawa both look at you, both thinking of very different things. Heat pools in your cheeks-- and a bit in your core, at Aizawa’s lidded gaze. 

“Hey, uh--” Hizashi scooches out from the booth seat and stands, brushing the salt off of his shirt. “Don't be mad, but I’m gonna go.”

Aizawa sneers and you do the same. After all this time, he couldn’t wait a bit longer? Does he really think it’s a good idea to leave the two of you alone? Sure, you were jokingly nice today, but that can’t keep going-

“What? I just got here.”  Aizawa seems to agree with you. 

He waggles his phone in the air, text messages abundant.  “Duty calls.”

At least someone’s getting laid tonight. Aizawa slides away from you and into the spot Hizashi just left, this pissed off look smeared across his face. 

“It’s still on me, don’t worry. Here’s my card- go nuts, kiddos.” Hizashi slaps his card on the table and turns on a dime, humming a jaunty little tune to himself. “Don’t be jealous!” 

“I’m older than you.”

“I’m thirty.”

The two of you are left in Hizashi’s wake, sitting awkwardly apart from each other. 

“So,” you try. “How was your-?”

“We don’t have to do this.” Aizawa slides Hizashi’s card towards you. “You can leave too, if you don’t want to deal with me.”

Usually, you stay quiet, but your drunk brain is taking over. You lean back in the booth and cross your arms, trying to be assertive. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what? Set you free?”

“Assume what I want,” you say. “I’m not allergic to having dinner with you. We can like, just talk and be normal. We did it all day.”

Aizawa’s face scrunches up in disapproval, but he doesn’t object. He sits in constipated misery for a long moment before sighing and unbunching his body. He mirrors your body language, crossing his arms and leaning back just enough that he isn’t hunched over himself. 

“My day was… fine.” he tries in earnest. “Good, even. Took a nap. Finished my presentations.”

“When are you presenting?”

He flips the menu over, then over again, unsettled. His foot is tapping under the table, bouncing the table a bit. “Tomorrow at eleven and Sunday at three.”  

“I want to watch the one with Tensei, is that okay?”

His brow crinkles at the mention of Tensei.

“I can’t stop you, but it’ll be pretty boring.” he shrugs. “Just polymer talk. Hanging with Hizashi will be more fun.”

“Well… I dunno, I love him,” You tread carefully. “But he’s such a horndog sometimes.”

Aizawa snorts and rolls his eyes. There’s the whisper of a grin trapped in his gaze, you think.

“It’s true! He abandoned us tonight!”

“You should have seen him when he first met Nemuri-- it was much worse. He would run off to her at the drop of a hat,” he says. “She would call and he’d get this dopey look on his face-”

“That’s cute though.” You are picking at the salt on the table, dreaming of days when Touya gave you that unmistakable, gooey expression.  “Every woman wants to be loved like that.”

When you glance up, Aizawa is watching you, expression relaxed. He takes a delicate pause, watching you from across the booth as if you’re a million miles away, a look that only locks in when you meet it. It’s almost somber, the way you both watch each other in reverent silence, the din of the restaurant around you growing. 

“He left me alone at a frat house once.” Aizawa interrupts your thoughts. You blanch, then laugh, hand over heart at the thought. “Ran away to get some guy across campus.”

“Wait-- you were in a frat house?” you wheeze. You try to imagine him, yellow sweatshirt in the middle of a sticky floored basement, crowded so close he’s forced to dance along. 

“Against my will.”

Aizawa takes a shot glass and tips it back, swallowing it all in one measured gulp.  He shivers at the taste, tongue stuck between his teeth in disgust. It’s cute. It’s sweet. You can see the silhouette of the college boy he used to be. When he swallows the second shot, he makes the same face, wrinkles deeper this time.

“Slow down-” you say. “You shouldn't really drink all three!” 

“Well, you’re clearly too drunk for another.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Of course you are-”  he says. “It's why you're being so nice and chatty.”

You gasp and throw a hand to your forehead in fake shock. “I'm always nice!” 

Aizawa leans all the way back in the booth, eyebrow cocked skeptically. He sighs before he speaks. “If I remember correctly, you told me to go fuck myself.”

“No, you said that to me.” You close the gap between you by leaning forward into your elbows. “I said that you wished you could.”

It doesn’t feel scandalous to say until his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. It’s only a second, a glimmer-- but it’s there, it’s real, it’s temptation. You’re not stupid; you’ve come to terms with the fact that you find Aizawa Shouta attractive, but the sudden attention makes your mouth salivate ever so slightly. 

“I don’t feel like that anymore, I think.” you manage. “At least I don’t hate you anymore.”

“I never hated you.” He leans forward too, head tilted, expression open. “I just wanted an apology.”

The moment grinds to a halt.

“Are you fucking kidding?” You want to scream. Words bubble in your chest, hot and dumb. “I’m not apologizing.”

You jam your feet into your shoes and start fumbling with your purse. Anger makes you clumsy, makes your eyes burn with tears. “Well, okay, I’ll apologize for the stairs, but nothing else. You were so mean to me, on my birthday-”

“And then you immediately sexted me.” Oh, how his calm demeanor gets you even hotter; you want him to scream back, to act pissed-- “How was I supposed to take that?”

“Happily!” You gesture to yourself. “I have great tits!”

“You do.”

“Urgh! Don’t say that!” You slide out of the booth. 

“I thought I was being nice.”

“You’re disgusting-”

“- I don’t know what you want from me. You’re so hot and cold-” Aizawa says, that look on his face.

“You are the one who told me to forget about the stupid texts!” you say. “New flash-- I texted you by accident and yet, I thought ‘maybe I’ll give him a chance’-”

You sniffle, those angry tears ruining your ire once again. Horror flashes across Aizawa’s face as he looks around, gauging the reaction of everyone around him.

“Then you turned me down!”

“I had a chance.” He whispers, carefully, shock enveloping his usually stoic face. You almost think he cares, that he regrets, with that almost childlike sadness smeared across his features. In fact, he almost reaches for you before you pull farther away. “I thought--”

“You fucking did.” You wipe your tears with your sleeve and try to channel Bakugo’s advice. “But not now! Treaty is done! Burned to the ground! I’m back to being a cunt!”

You say cunt a bit too loud. For what feels like the millionth time, you storm away, past the onlookers, away from the man of your -- well, certainly not of your affection. 

“Wait.” He calls after you. “Hold on, wait-- we haven’t paid--”

You march out into the street. The alcohol is hitting you; the stars in the sky streak together with the light pollution, the muffled noise of the restaurant eaten by the growl of the city. You turn left and march down the street, as fast as you can without running, wide, wide strides to distance yourself from the asshole behind you as quickly as possible. You run the first corner you can, then another, then-- wait,

You were supposed to go left, maybe. 

Taking the next street should turn you right around, but… the lane curves and curves and --

You turn around.

Huh. This next street feels even more wrong. The cement has turned to cobblestone, the traffic has died down to something more residential. You pull your phone from your pocket, just to find it dead. The screen won’t even light up. Dammit. Damn. It.

The tears in your eyes wobble from anger to fear. 

You’re lost. 

The hotel can’t be that far; it’s not like you’ve been walking for miles. The rubbed raw spots on your feet are already broken open again, each step blossoming with fresh, hot pain, but you keep pushing. Touya always told you that you were hopelessly directionless, but you didn’t think he meant it literally. 

Maybe you are, without him.

That’s how this mess started, really. Touya left you directionless, adrift in the world. He always pulled you down, but at least down is a direction and a destination.

Where do you want to go? Not just now, but in life? Do you want Touya to return and give you that pull, like a stone in black waters? 

No. You don’t. The love is still there, but the self harm, the horrors… you can’t keep losing your life in his aftershocks, can’t keep being pulled by his riptide.

You want stability, a home. Someone who worries about you the way you worry about them. You want to stop crying and start being who you used to be.

Could Shouta be that person? You don’t think so, but you know Touya isn’t that person either. You don’t deserve much in this world, but you at least deserve to give yourself a chance.

There’s a twenty four hour bodega, neon light dimmed to near extinguished. The owner sleepily tells you where to go and you thank him warmly before trudging back down the streets, It only takes fifteen minutes until you see the familiar glimmer of blue tile. The front dress asks if you are okay when you limp by, cut up feet on the brink of giving up themselves. The elevator is only filled with strangers, giggling and whispering to themselves.

Your floor is the home stretch. You peel off your heels; the front and backs of your feet are covered in broken skin, blood tinging the suede of your shoes. Bed is calling your name, along with another big, long, upheaving cry. The past month has left you brittle, weak-

“Hey. Hey!”

There’s a man in the hallway. Your man.

“Shouta?” Your voice is wrecked. Down by your room is the familiar face of your enemy, pacing the hall. A couple of wide steps and he’s there on you, hands finding your waist,dragging you in so close that his forehead bonks against yours. Tendrils of curls tickle your cheeks as he huffs in relief, warm breath hot against your nose and cheeks. Surprise leaves you speechless, but he finds words. 

“Where were you?” His voice bites out, harsh and rude. “You weren’t answering your phone or the door, I thought-- You’re bleeding.”

If he wasn’t so close, you’d wipe your nose and tears away, but he has you locked in those broad hands. They rub up and down your waist, worrying away at you with an almost anxious annoyance.

“I’m an adult,” you sniffle despite your annoyance. “You don’t get to be mad at me for staying out late--”

“I’m not mad, I’m terrified.” You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. The lacquer of seriousness is gone, replaced by something strangely human, wildly unique from the person you once knew. For the second time tonight, you think you see who he used to be, the silhouette of a twenty year old you’ll never know. “You can’t disappear into the city without contact-- you scared me.”

You know that fear. You’ve lived it. The way Touya comes and goes, the way he frays the fabric of your worries simply for his own wills and wants-

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“No, I’m sorry.” He’s pulling you closer. “I’m so sorry.”

When his lips touch yours, it feels like home. It’s impossibly soft and warm, with the glide of chapstick, but what you focus on is how you are held. He cradles you, with trembling, needy, questioning hands, firm with want, questioning if you want this too. You don’t know if you do until your arms loop around his shoulders and tug him in deeper, harder-

When he pulls away, you don’t know if this was the right thing, but it feels right, deep, deep, deep in your heart and even deeper in your core. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again before pressing into you once more, this time with his whole body, walking you backwards into the door of your room, The pressure of him holds you in place.

“I’m so sorry.” Aizawa speaks it into your lips. You’re fumbling backwards, feeling in your pocket for your swipe card as his tongue dips into your mouth. He groans into the contact, low and animalistic, hungry and reverent. Every emotional nerve in you is fried and your brain is refusing to think, but something inside you is pink, blossoming with want. It’s the first time in maybe years you’ve felt this unbelievably, unquestionably good.

Aizawa’s teeth close around the plush of your lip and you gasp at the want it makes you feel alive. To be so aggressively wanted- 

Your keycard finds the slot on the door and the lock beeps open. You manage to break away enough to fumble to knob open-- 

And you two slide inside.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Don’t know if you take writing prompts so if you don’t feel free to ignore this I have an idea for a dcxdp crossover ghost hunger au ( but only if you want otherwise it’s just Danny being able to eat anything and everything literally )ghost prince Danny au Redeemed Vlad au Vlad x Maddie x jack 

 Halfas were mistaken for a lot of things in mythology and being very rare they were often considered the “special ones” of whatever species they were mistaken for and the last halfa before Vlad was the one that inspired the novel of Dracula Yes there are vampires, but the one from the story of Dracula was not a vampire

Anyway, Danny trying to hide from the GIW decides to lean in on the mistaken identity, and what better city to do that in then Gotham, the one rumored to have monsters already patrolling its streets anyway Danny, gets mistaken for a vampire and Danny decides to roll with it setting up shop in an abandoned cathedral while trying to get the undead of Gotham back into the zone ( Grundy, the talons, Jason, and possibly a few others)

And Vlad occasionally has him going to galas for business (and practice for when Danny is the ghost king ) and of course, Danny continues the vampire act there too tone down, but still enough to give off an otherworldly vibe

I love this idea! I think I've only ever seen one other story about fake vampire Danny.

I'm not really able to write an actual story with world building or anything nice like that (trust me I've tried not pretty🫠😆), my stuff is usually just gibberish that I clean up a bit before posting, so I'm really sorry if you wanted an actual mini story.

~

But I'll try to do a little prompt!

~

Tell Me What I Am

There had been some odd rumors going around Gotham.

Those who were more sensitive said that the dead becoming aware, most didn't pay much truth to all that was being said.

Still everyone was more alert feeling like the entirety of Gotham was in the presence of something Other.

~

Jason didn't enjoy going to the galas when he was young and now as the recent 'No Longer Dead Wayne Child" he was forced to go once again.

He looked around trying to avoid all the rich snobs that were trying to push their daughters practically into his arms

He snorted at his thoughts, "Very much not my type."

Distracted he bumped into someone and oh-speaking of his type.

~

Danny didn't mean to bump into someone especially the guest of honor of the gala but it had been a while since he was able to properly eat something that actual filled him up and not just distracted his mind a bit before it came back,

So forgive him for being distracted and-

oh

oh?

Oh!

"You smell divine" he mumbled in between his suddenly overly sharp teeth

"..Wha-Thanks I guess?"

Danny's foggy mind suddenly snapped back into sharp focus once he felt Vlad call for him.

He quickly fled from the man

' Shit I almost bit him what the hell! '

~

Jason thought back to the night of the gala

"Hey B, do the Masters seem...odd to you?"

Bruce glance up from his work

"Did something happen?"

He thought about the sharp fangs suddenly in the young man's mouth alongside his comment feeling almost like prey under his intense gaze that pinned him in place with the sheer hunger and want in them.

How the older man pulled him away but not before Jason saw his eyes flash red for barely a second.

"....Maybe."

~

Just an Idea

Hope this was to your taste Anon!

[yurislotusgarden]

ʚїɞ Not just a little crush ʚїɞ

ʚїɞ Port mafia!Dazai Osamu x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 1k

ʚїɞ Tw’s: literally nothing, just pure fluff of him being down bad

ʚїɞ This is literally just 1k words of Pmzai being down bad, whipped, even lovesick, for his crush🤷‍♀️

How did he end up like this?

The youngest executive in Port Mafia’s history, The demon Prodigy, one of the most feared people in Yokohama if not the whole of Japan, Dazai Osamu has fallen in love.

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't that. That the nice feeling he got whenever he was around you was just because of him standing near, or spending time with a friend, a close one, but denial can go on only for so long.

The brunette at first thought that his crush, as Chuuya had called it when he had caught onto Dazai's more than normally weird behavior, was one-sided. After all, there was no way that someone like you could love him, that just wasn't a possibility in Dazai's mind, yet you decided to go against his calculations once again, you seemed to like doing that and causing him to freak out.

It wasn't too long before he realized that, just maybe, you did at least like him in a romantic way, some acts just couldn't be brushed off as a friend gesture.

One thing he just couldn't brush off, as well as it being the reason he realized his crush may not be one-sided, was him remembering one of the times you cooked him food, even though you were aware how picky he could get with that matter.

///////////////////////////

A figure with brown-haired locks could be seen walking on the deserted sidewalk. Moonlight shone on him as he arrived at his destination, your house.

You always greeted him so sweetly, especially when compared to all the people in his life. Welcomed him like he was a classmate, a friend, a normal person that you both knew he wasn’t. He wasn't treated like a superior, like someone who would kill if the smallest mistake was made around him, and Dazai knew that he liked it from the very start.

Dazai had thought before how would it be if you somehow were in the PM, but to his surprise, he realized he hated, even despised that idea. Something about the concept of someone like you, a person who in his eyes could be an angel for all he cares, being in a dark place full of violence and death like the Port Mafia, was just absolutely not right.

Dazai had arrived at your door, not having to wait long after knocking for the door to be opened by you.

“Dazai?”

You. Oh, the lovely little thing that you were in his eyes. Innocent compared to him, a civilian who somehow met and befriended a feared mafioso without the slightest care in the world.

He had no idea how he managed to get where he was, but he had no regrets.

“Yes, me! Now let me in, it's damn cold!”

///////////////////////////

You disliked crab.

In fact, you disliked most seafood, he was perfectly aware of it, and yet, you did this just for him. 

A crab that could as well look like it was made by a restaurant chef laid in front of him on the table. It looked well-seasoned, the crab’s shell was purely gotten rid of, and the smell wasn’t overwhelming like a lot of food tends to be like to him… you really thought it out carefully. 

“What is this?” It was kind of a stupid question, but he wanted to know your reasons.

“What do you mean? I thought you liked crab?”

“I do-”

“Then shush and eat, you stick.”

What did you just call him? Did he hear it right?

“...’Stick’?” You turned to look at him as he said that, stopping the cleanup you were doing just moments before.

“Yes, have you seen yourself? When was the last time that you ate a proper meal, dear?”

Oh. Goddammit. Don’t get him started on the pet names. He was aware that you used it on people you considered close to you, as long as they agreed, and he’s been lowkey embarrassed ever since you asked for his permission to use them on him, or more like embarrassed on how fast he agreed to that. Dazai didn’t know why he liked it so much, maybe it was because of how no one ever referred to him as such, maybe it was the way you sounded when you addressed him with them, or maybe it was entirely just the fault of your voice but he simply didn’t care anymore.

“I think we both know that you’d rather not know the answer.” His answer caused you to let out a soft sigh, but what he said was kind of true. In truth, he would answer that it was the last time he ate at your place, which on one side wasn’t that long ago, but otherwise, he barely eats anything. You and Chuuya were the only ones getting any kind of nutrition into his body, which he supposed he should be thankful for… not like he’s ever going to voice it out.

“Right. Now eat, I don't need you collapsing on my floor.”

“But I don't wanna!” If any of his subordinates saw him like this, whining because of food, they would be dead on the spot, but he's alone with you, and he’s been over being embarrassed about his behavior with you a long time ago.

You sighed, and he knew that you were about to use the biggest thing you have on the brunet against him, just to get him to eat… Not like that wasn't Dazai’s plan from the start, he's gotta get his fair share of you, doesn't he?

“You eat the most you can and you get cuddles.”

“With you playing with my hair?”

You smiled softly and said, “I'll even add head kisses to the mix.” knowing damn well that it’s gonna win him over.

You knew what you were doing, you had to, and he didn't mind as long as you kept your side of the deal. He's gonna finish that damn plate if it means affection from his favorite person will be solely on him for as long as he wants it.

Hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

[loveinhawkins]

for the one word ficlet prompt thing!!

I'd love to see something steddie with the word "sun". not picky about how you use it and im good with whatever season you'd like! 💕🌻💘☀️

pre season 3 crossing paths in high school, my beloved ☀️💕 ao3

There’s a blind spot just on the outskirts of the school grounds, before you get to the woods: a little hill that if you sit at just the right angle, back pressed up against the grass, no-one can see you. Eddie goes there whenever he needs some peace—like now, reading alone during lunch. He can still hear the distant laughter of students floating along on the breeze, but it’s far enough away that it doesn’t intrude as he reads.

The air smells like summer’s approaching. His fingers skim through drying blades of grass; they feel almost as delicate as pressed flowers.

Despite the calm solitude, the words aren’t going in—and he knows that with the right teacher, he kinda gets Tennessee Williams, but Mr Hauser’s gone, and he was the only one who allowed Eddie free reign to go wild when reading aloud in class, every other sub since then would say he was being disruptive and… okay, that was true some of the time, but most of the time it was because it helped, damn it, gave him at least some hope of scraping a pass—

A shadow falls across Eddie’s page—it doesn’t loom in the way a teacher’s stance would, but he still jumps at the suddenness of it.

“Jesus!”

Eddie tips his head back against the hill, cranes his neck to look upside down. Squints against the sun.

It’s Steve Harrington, and he must have gym straight after lunch because he’s already changed into a T-shirt and shorts, which is an odd decision in Eddie’s opinion as a perpetual gym-ditcher, but whatever, it’s a free country… and it’s not exactly like the guy’s an eyesore.

”You trying to give me a heart attack, Harrington?”

“No,” Steve says shortly; he looks a mixture of embarrassed and… annoyed? Which would be a new personal best for Eddie, considering he’s done nothing to piss him off save for just sitting on the ground. “I didn’t know you were here, dude.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the idea,” Eddie waves his hands in explanation, “welcome to my hiding spot.”

Steve scoffs. “Not much of a hiding spot if I found it.”

It comes out a little petty, sure, but nothing major, Eddie thinks; it’s not like Steve’s picking a fight.

“What’s up with you, man?” he asks lightly.

It’s something he’s pondered more than once over the last couple of years, in between the stress of failed tests and the same platitudes in school reports: Eddie must apply himself next year; Eddie must try harder; Eddie must…

In the background of it all was the enigma that was Steve Harrington. Eddie had found that you couldn’t not look at him, his eyes drawn to even the most fleeting impressions: walking past the lockers or driving in and out of the school parking lot. Seasons changed—whole damn years changed—and still the question remained: just what on earth is up with Steve Harrington these days?

At least now, asking the question is profoundly less upsetting than it had been last fall, when Eddie silently tracked the progression of bruises healing across Steve’s face—along with Billy Hargrove’s intimidating stare.

“Nothing, I’m just…” Steve sighs. “Didn’t wanna spend forever in the cafeteria when it’s so nice out, but… Honestly?”

“Nah, I’d prefer you lie to me,” Eddie says deadpan, and Steve snorts before sighing again; Eddie almost asks him to read some Tennessee Williams out loud, ‘cause he’s surprisingly got the dramatics for it.

Steve flops down onto the grass, lies right on his back with no concern for his precious hair. “I’m so damn bored, Munson.”

“Gosh, my heart bleeds,” Eddie says. “Puh-lease tell me how hard it is to have passed everything and literally not have a care in the world?”

Steve blinks up at him, frowning. “Shit, are you repeating again?”

He sounds earnest, and there’s something in his phrasing that means Eddie isn’t nearly as defensive as normal—maybe because it’s about repeating again rather than failing.

Eddie lifts up the script in demonstration. “Not exactly reading this for fun, dude.”

“God, I’d take that over gym right now.”

“Okay, you’re bullshitting me. You love gym, Harrington. You, like,” Eddie gestures at Steve’s get-up, “actually make an effort and everything.”

“Not when the semester’s almost over, man. We don’t even have a cover right now, so we’re just left to, like, do whatever, who gives a shit. I’m bored outta my mind.”

“Tragic,” Eddie says—gym without a teacher sounds like a dream; he’d literally just leave. “I’m weeping for you.”

Steve rolls his eyes. But it doesn’t feel like a dismissal, even when he doesn’t reply and just lies back in the grass with another sigh.

So… Eddie mulls it over. What the hell, Steve’s graduating; it’s not like they’ll cross paths after that.

“Bet you can’t run to the woods and back before the bell rings.”

Steve sits up, a gleam of interest in his eyes. He checks his watch. “The bell’s gonna ring in, like, two minutes, Munson.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were so bored. Well, if you’re not up to the challenge—”

“No, no,” Steve says, standing up. “I didn’t say that.” He actually gets into position like he’s on the running track, looks at Eddie expectantly.

Eddie covers his bemusement with theatrics; he mimes firing a starting pistol.

And… shit, Steve Harrington can run.

Objectively, it’s not like it’s a surprise; he wasn’t exactly bringing up the rear in the swim and basketball teams. Still, it’s one thing knowing it, another to see it up close like this.

Eddie puts his book back in his bag, watching as Steve disappears from view. Reluctantly, he edges away from the hill—if he doesn’t, he’ll risk being late for class again by the time he walks over, and… He thinks of ‘86, what has to be his third time lucky. Start as you mean to go on, and all that.

Eddie turns back to look. Sure enough, Steve comes sprinting out of the woods, racing up to the hill right as the bell rings.

“Still counts, Munson!” he calls, a little breathless.

And Eddie knows that he’s not really solved the mystery of what’s going on with Steve Harrington.

What he does know is that Steve is smiling as he raises a fist in victory, the sun turning his hair golden for just a moment; he looks utterly free—as he should be, graduation’s right around the corner.

And Eddie can’t begrudge him that.

”Inspirational,” he shouts, cupping a hand around his mouth as he walks backwards. “I’ll get John Hughes on the phone, stat.”

The bell stops. Eddie turns around before he can trip on his own feet.

He’s getting closer to the school building now, can feel the change in the air, cliques unwillingly disbanding as teachers move them on.

But as he heads to class, Eddie faintly hears evidence that the moment hasn’t been broken entirely: Steve Harrington’s laughter, drifting across on the wind.

[moodymisty]

How does a space marine mark their favourite serf?

We already know that Night Lords have their blood ink tattoos and Space Wolves simply pee on their favourite, but what about the other legions? How would Astartes go about specifically marking their favourite serfs as theirs? So it got me thinking about the other 20 original legions and what their answer to this conundrum would be.

Salamanders handcraft specific pieces of jewelry and give them to their serf, each has a signature style and that style acts as an identifying mark. Another for the GPS club.

Blood Angels leave behind bite marks from repeated feedings. The bite marks and where the bite marks are placed identify the Astartes based on feeding preferences.

Ultramarines have filed out specific paperwork form A5 - 69 that now has you listed as their support serf/support wife. You have the paperwork and everything on you at all times to flash at anyone trying to hit on you.

The Raven Guard gives you a nice simple permanent anklet with different inscribing denoting a particular Astarte. You may or may not be GPS-chipped now.

If you are lucky then your Iron Warriors master will simply fashion you a nice iron collar with their information hanging from a tab. If you’re not, then the Iron Warriors will simply brand you with a customized burning iron, it’s quite painful.

Dark Angel will just stoically rub their face against you, trying to impart as much of their scent onto you as they can. Your goddam terrified and confused out of your mind as this occurs.

Iron Hands will augment you with specific pieces of valuable tech denoting you as being more valuable than other flesh bags, your permission is not asked for this procedure.

In the World Eaters, no one marks their serf as belonging to them, because of the simple fact that Angron would outright murder any Astartes he caught doing so, seeing too many connections between that and slavery.

For Luna Wolves they thankfully won’t impart their scent by peeing on you, they will however keep you in an all-night breeding session, arguing there is no greater way to claim a person than by getting them pregnant with their child. Truly their father’s sons.

For Word Bearers I don’t have any concrete ideas, but whatever it is it’s weird and it’s religious. Possibly a chastity belt, one that only they have the key for.

When an Alpha Legion astartes marks you there is no smell, mark or any other signifier. However any kind of marking ends up being somewhat moot. As when you are an Alpha Legionnaire, you are still obligated to share your serf with the rest of your Astartes brothers.

So apparently the White Scars ritually scar themselves with a long scar called an honour scar when they join the chapter. So any particular favoured serf is going to be ritually scarred in a specific manner similar to or resembling their master’s to showcase which white scar they belong to.

When it comes to the Death Guard I honestly have no idea for these guys and I don’t think I want to even consider it.

If an Emperor Children picks you as their serf then they’ll pick out very good and beautiful outfits to showcase that fact, there are a few specific pieces of high-quality clothing commonly used to denote a serf belonging to an Emperor Children. However, things get interesting in that regard when we get to post heresy…

To show ownership Imperial Fists will scrimshaw you a piece using some sturdy Xenos bone, with their scrimshaw style acting as identification.

If a Thousand Sons marks you as theirs, then expect warp magic shenanigans. How they mark you are going to be different with each Thousand Sons, though you’ll bet your bottom dollar that sorcery is always involved.

The Ultramarine one made me laugh out loud XD Some of these are definitely what I imagine what a SM of each chapter would do, within reason.

[toxictigertonic]

hopes you don't mind be asked about headcanons!! but I adore how you write them!! What about Prime Assets and hugs? How huggable they are from 0 to 10? Would they hug each other?

Ohhh this one has the potential to be so silly and yet so sad... All of them could use a good hug (I'm hugging Coyle to steal from his back pocket :) )

COYLE

- Starting out mediocre, Coyle ranks at a 4/10 on the hug scale.

- His hugs are so stiff and so awkward, it's like hugging a plank. You might also get zapped so watch out.

- You know those awkward dad hugs? The ones where it's just a side hug? He can barely even manage those.

- If you gave him a proper hug, he'd keep his hands out to the side, no contact. You'd think he'd get handsy but no, he's so confused by the hug he just freezes up.

- Please don't surprise him with a hug he will suplex you.

- Also he is Not Soft, and his leather jacket smells funny. Not funny haha, funny weird. Mostly like cigarettes and sadness.

- Definitely mumbling something weird during the hug that makes you reconsider your decisions. Not weird enough to pull away but enough to make you think "damn was this really a good idea"

- Take this hug opportunity to fuck with his battery, he's too caught up in how awkward this is to notice. Steal his wallet too, for funsies.

- Would have a hard time chasing you after you hugged him. Not because he's developed some sudden emotional connection but bc that was Weird and he now dreads looking you in the eyes.

MOTHER GOOSEBERRY

- 15/10 for hugs, the most comforting hug you will ever receive in your entire life. If you consider Futterman's presence however it drops down to a 9/10.

- Futterman threatens you about 5 seconds into the hug, if you try anything funny you're getting drill to the face. This is why he affects the score so much.

- There's also the chance that he's going to whisper a question about your dental hygiene, and God help you if you answer no to flossing.

- Ignoring the goose demon, hugging her is sooo nice. She's warm and soft and bc she's so tall anyone who's short is getting surrounded by nice hug.

- She loves hugs, she loves to give and receive them. You can even potentially make her nonviolent for a minute or two if you offer a hug.

- Pray for your spine though bc she gives bear hugs. She will not hesitate to crush the life out of you with her squeezes.

- The kinda hugger that pets your head and calls you her sweet baby, or something like that. Again, most comforting hugs in the world.

- You can ask to hug Futterman but he'll just hiss at you. Man hates being hugged. Being involved in a hug is already bad enough.

- If you're small enough she will pick you up during a hug. She could very easily lift someone but if you're smaller she's more likely to think of you as a child.

FRANCO

- He's hard to rank bc how do you rank someone who either tries to kill you or cries when you hug them. I'm gonna give him a 6 or 7/10 because the hug itself isn't too bad if he doesn't go for violence.

- The violent reaction is mainly bc he's not used to anybody being kind to him. Most times he's had human contact it's been to hurt him.

- That's also why he cries. He's so unbelievably touch starved that an innocent hug can send him spiraling.

- You better hug him while he cries. He might track you down afterwards if you don't, nobody can know he cried like that. Also, you hurt his feelings :(

- If you DO continue to hug him, prepare to be crushed in his arms. He's shockingly strong, and he's clingy when he's upset.

- Also don't he surprised if he ends up in your lap tbh. You gave him the hug, you should've expected this to be how things would go. Man just wants some comfort.

- He's gonna try to bury his face into your neck, even if you're a lot shorter than him. He'll hurt his back hunching over, he doesn't care.

- He is constantly in a state of not wanting to be touched but also desperately needing a hug. It's like dealing with a cat.

- If you pet his hair or say anything comforting he will cry so hard he throws up I do not make the rules.

GROUP HUGS

- BAD IDEA.

- Franco and Coyle would rather die than hug each other. Gooseberry is going to make them be friendly whether they like it or not.

- She makes them hug and they're just whispering threats to each other.

- "Putting you in prison will be the nicest thing I do to you." "Good luck putting me in prison with a fuckin' incisor lodged in your shin."

- Gooseberry picks Coyle up when she hugs him and he freaks out. He doesn't know what to do so all he can do is Flail.

- On one hand, he's attracted to her. On the other hand, keep your hugs to yourself, woman!

- You know damn well Franco is requesting hugs from Gooseberry every single day.

- He is just a sad little boy and he needs a comforting hug from her. This is how he convinces her to hug him every single time (not like he has to do much convincing, she loves hugs).

- Futterman wants to turn him into a fine paste. He knows what that little shit is up to and he's not having it. Leave his daughter ALONE.

- He's stopped full-on crying after getting so many hugs from her, but he still gets a little teary-eyed. Especially when the head petting comes into play.

Ask me as much as you want! I will happily take 18 requests from the same person, I do not mind!!

[blueishspace]

Looped Sun 6

Loop #205

Grian: Scar! How have you done this?

Scar: C'mon Grian, I learnt you can make more potions then normal and I wasn't supposed to try one?

Grian : Not on me Scar! I look ridiculus!

Scar: Nooo! You look cool!

Grian: I'm a kid! I look 8 at most!

Scar: Hmmm... I have an idea!

Grian: I won't like, it will I?

Scar: This is Grain, Grian's son! Taking care of him while G is away!

Grian: I hate you...

Stress: Aww that's so nice of you, I didn't know Grian had a kid though.

Scar: Oh I didn't either! Grian said that he wanted to wait a bit to introduce him!

Grian: I will get revenge.

Stress: Oh! I see, well that make sense. He is quite the grumpy one isn't he?

Scar: Oh yeah! Definitely!

Stress: Oh, sorry but I better go now. Got lunch with Iskall!

Scar: Oh It's no problem! By Stress!

...

Grian: You will regret this, do you know how many awws I have gotten already?

Loop #206

Grian: Revenge. Sweet Revenge!

Scar: Hey, that's not fair! I turned you 8, I look 3!

Grian: Sucks doesn't it? Well now we'll see who gets the last laugh.

Stress: Oh Grian, who is that little cutie? Yours?

Grian: He's Scar's.

Stress: Oh! I didn't know you were a thing!

Grian: What, wait that isn't-

Stress: Isn't it a bit early for a kid though?

Grian: No, you misunderstand-

Stress: Oh damn I need to go! Sorry G, see you later.

Grian: I...

Scar: ... Well that didn't go like you wanted to did it?

Grian: ... I...did she really?.... What the hell just happened?

Loop #209

Pearl was truly enjoying this Empires loop, no demons, no rifts, just regular fun with her friends.

Scott: Hey Pearl, do you think you could help me nake the next looper proof escape room?

And suddenly her loop became a lot of a hell better.

Loop #212

Waking up in an outer plane wasn't part of Grian's plans for this loop but he could deal with it... probably. Checking his surrounded he realized even without checking his loops memories that he was in Limbo... Aka the chaotic neutral dimension aka pure chaos central. This was fine, Grian could live in chaos, he was used to it... Didn't make getting randomly hit by a piece of cheese going at supersonic speed any better.

Scar woke up in a wonderful place, with fresh water and sweet fruit and big big trees, he knew that he would build trees like these as soon as he could because they were oh do gorgeus. Scar didn't ever want to leave such a beautiful and colorful place, ever... The following loop Scar was informed by Grian that that was Arborea, plane of chaotic good and especially known for being extremely addictive.

Pearl hated this actually. To be fair Pandemonium wasn't too bad for a plane if you didn't count the chill...and howling wind...and smell of rot...and demon infestation... Ok it was pretty bad actually but it would have been fine if it wasn't for the alignement. Chaotic neutral she could get but chaotic evil? For real? She knew she could get unhinged as Scarlet Pearl but chaotic evil??? Really world tree? Really?

Scott didn't know what to think, on one of hand Mechanus as the lawful neutral plane wasn't as dangerous as some of the others darker ones... on the other hand this place was just so dull and gray and lifeless he considered jumping in the void. He had tried to convince the people here that a lot of every colour would be as balanced as there not being any but did they listen? No, they didn't. He knew he could get to Baator from there and while he didn't really see himself as lawful evil he was really tempted to do it if it meant feeling something.

Loop #215

Grian: Red King?

Ren: You have finally arrived, what is the meaning of this meeting?

Grian: I have a challenge.

Ren: A challenge? You dare?

Grian: I do. I challenge you to a duel, one on one.

Ren: For what?

Grian: I challenge you for the red crown.

The court all gasped in shock.

Ren: I see... and what if you lose.

Grian: My 3 lives, be it death or servitude, they will be yours.

Ren: ... All 3 you say? I agree.

Grian: Of course.

Ren didn't know how many loops Grian had praticed sword combat for this exact moment and well, he didn't have to know.

Loop #218

It took a lot of effort on all their parts and 3 fails but finally Scott and Grian had managed the most difficult and stressful challenge yet...

Jimmy: I won? I won!

Jimmy had won one of the life games, Scott was tearing up just thinking about it.

Loop #220

CGem!Pearl: Another pearl? A looper?

Pearl: Oh yes, It's nice to meet you, my name is Pearl...hence being a pearl.

CGem!Pearl: Oh! Oh my! Well, this is unexpected!

Steven: Oh that's going to be confusing. You can be uhhh... Red!

Pearl: Hmmm, what about Scarlet?

Steven: Uhhh, Scarlet? That's a type of red right? I like it.

Pearl: Oh, hello there mate.

Amethyst: Heeey... say, you wanna ditch this place and go smash some stuff?

Pearl: Of course I would love that.

Amethyst: Woo, wonder what weapon you have.

Pearl: It's a scythe.

Amethyst: Sick.

Garnet: Hmpfff.

CGem!Pearl: We should form Sardonyx, don't you agree Garne-

Fire Opal: Oh there's no need!

CGem!Pearl: Wait Amethyst did you-

Steven: Giant woman! Wait? Scarlet?

Fire Opal: Oh I'm ready to smash some bits!

Steven: Wooo!

Fire Opal then proceeded to destroy a ship with her kusarigama.

Steven: So... why Scarlet? If you don't mind me asking.

Pearl: Oh It's a reference to that time I went insane in a game because my friends left me.

Steven: ...

Pearl: Sorry, that's a bit weird.

Steven: Oh no! It's not! ... I turned into a giant pink lizard dino thing once I'm not judging.

Loop #225

Scott: Grian, are you crying?

Grian: N-No.

Scott: You are... what happened.

Grian: Just... You know Grumbot?

Scott: The robot you and Mumbo made?

Grian: That's the thing, most of the time he is just a robot...but sometimes he isn't! Sometimes he's my actual child and has real feelings and... The emperors still destroy him and I can't do anything about it.

Scott: G-

Grian: And sometimes I can tell that he has a soul and I can feel as he dies while everyone else laughs at it... And then.

Scott: ...go on.

Grian: Sometimes it happens before the loop and I look to my loop memories and realize the me that was there before also didn't care... I got abandoned by my parents in Japan and that is the same in most loops, the last thing I ever wanted was to become like them!

Scott: Come here Grian, let it out.

Loop #227

Scar had almost finished building the new and improved Scarland. He was so excited to show Grian when a cyan and orange portal appeared. That had to be Scott coming straight from New Life!

Scott: Scar! Just the man I was searching for!

Scar: Me?

Scott: So, you are having problems learning about loop because of your dyslexia?

Scar: ... Yeah?

Scott: I was talking to some older loopers last loops and they showed me this library with book copies written in a way to help with dyslexia so I grabbed a few.

Scar: Wait you got me books?

Scott: Yeah. Decided to start small to see if they would work out. If you need more I can show you the next time we loop there.

Scar: I- wow ... Do you want a free tour of Scarland as a thank you?

Scott: Eh, Sure. Why not?

Loop #229

Scott had been waiting for a supervillain variant for a while actually, ever since Grian and Scar had took over the world that time a while back. But still, out of all possible power he didn't get neither ice, fire, magic or colour related. He got electricity manipulation which was pretty op but he couldn't understand.

Scott: I don't get it, why electricity?

Pearl: Didn't you get smitten by lightning back in Last Life?

Scott: Fuck, is this going to become a thing now. At least I don't explode.

Loop #230

Scott: ...

Pearl: Pf...pftt.

Scott: Don't laugh.

Pearl: What did you say last time? At least I don't explode?

Scott: ...

Scott the creeper wasn't amused in the slightliest.

Loop #233

Scott: So, let's see who is who. I'm Mind.

Grian: Heart, mostly because of the eye connection.

Scott: And the purple.

Grian: And the purple, I know... Pearl?

Pearl: Soul! Because of the red probably. I get to have a scythe instead of a trident so that's fine.

Scott: Huh... Then, what about The Whole? Is Scar taking his place?

Pearl: Let me check... hmm, yep.

Scott: One time you tried to sing about...I don't know but it was nothing fucking new-

Pearl: Wrong song!

Scott: What?

Pearl: Storm and a spring is later, we need to do Mucka Blucka right now.

Grian: ~I've been sleeping in a cardboard box spending every dollar on a losing lot-

Pearl: That's The Bidding... You know what fuck this, if you are going to do what you want then I'm skipping to me splitting the ground.

Grian: Wait no no, we are way to early to do the Mind electric... Scar Isn't going to be able to handle it right now.

Scott: And if he does he won't be very happy with us.

Pearl: Alright, let's try again then.

Loop #237

The loop had started normal, Grian should have known it wouldn't last forever but waking up to find all the ground in the world to be replaced by ice.

Grian: How?

Pearl: I am still a goddess of chaos and this specific loop's code is extremely simple to manipulate.

Grian: ... But why?

Pearl: Why not?

Loop #238

Pearl: How dare you?

Grian: What? I didn't do anything.

Pearl: Why did you rotate my base back, do you know how much it took to rotate the first time around?

Grian: Guess you'll have to turn it again!

Loop #239

Grian: You are evil.

Pearl: Oh c'mon, just giving you some encouragement to make a better storage system.

Grian: B-but... why furbies? Why?

Pearl: Horrific little things aren't they? Was talking with Tango about giving them spider legs.

Grian: Why are you like this?

Loop #240

Pearl: You did what?

Grian: Moved your storage ststem...to the moon.

Pearl: You mean the moon that is currently crashing into the world?

Grian: ... Maybe?

Pearl: I see how it is, did you know Tango actually made me some spider furbies before the end of the loop?

Grian: Wait... no.

Pearl: Be prepared. They are coming. You can run but you can't hide.

Loop #245

Scott: You know, if you take like three or four loops in which you learn redstone you would probably be able to surpass Mumbo.

Grian: I would wouldn't I? .... Hmmm...

Loop #250

Mumbo: H-how- Mate? How have you done this?

Grian: It's really quite simple really.

Mumbo: That's- That's my line.

Grian: Mine now.

Loop #251

It was the start of a brand new loop, this one started quite late already in season 10. Grian was sleeping soundly when he was woken up by a frantic sounding Mumbo.

Mumbo: Grian, I had an horrible nightmare.

Grian: Uh huh?

Mumbo: You built a super compact spaceship and I couldn't understand and you used my "It's quite simple" line against me! It was horrible!

Grian: ... Wait.

Loop #252

Mumbo: I-it wasn't a prank?

Grian: Nope.

Scar: Mumbo!!?! You are looping!?

Pearl: Welcome to the loops mate?

Scott: Good luck, you'll need it.

Prev Next First

[pro-mammonologist]

Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend

A fun vacation to the mountains! The brothers are fascinated by the human world and even more fascinated by the human world’s interpretation of them. After exploring a local church, Asmodeus learns of Mc’s relationship with the church as well as igniting an interesting fantasy of theirs.

What happens when the brothers discover Mc’s more impure fantasies? (Plenty of irony)

Note: inspired by the song Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend by Powerwolf, if you’re okay with a little bit of metal, you’ll love this and want it in your obey me playlist

GN!Poly!Mc but with a coochie x All Bros

This chapter is SFW with NSFW conversation but no explicit action. The MC also has religious trauma so yeah.

Chapter 1: “theres a phantom lust to wake”

You shielded your eyes from the light blistering down on your skin. Having been in the Devildom so long, you forgot the intensity of the sun. You were thankful it was warm considering the coolness of the Devildom, it was a nice change, it was familiar. You packed cool clothes, making sure that your outfits were nice and airy for your trip. The brothers did the same, considering how their bodies had adjusted to the coolness of the Devildom, you already had Asmo and Mammon droning on about the heat only a few hours into your arrival.

Yes, your arrival. Lucifer wanted a trip with all of you and everyone said the usual beach, camping, famous city 1, famous city 2, and Lucifer of course suggested a factory tour but you wanted to relax. So, Satan suggested a more scenic trip, a nature trip. You loved the idea, being a lover of adventure. At least with them! So you all got to planning you settled on a mountain trip. Central Europe has many different attractions but none compare to the beauty of the mountains, especially in Switzerland.

“Man, ever been here before?” Mammon asked to no one in particular.

Satan opened your travel guide. “No, I don’t think any of us have been at least not to this one specifically.”

You looked out the window next to Mammon, lofting yourself from the seat on your train. “Are we not going to the alps?”

Lucifer chuckled from across you. “The alps would be boring… what if you’ve gone before?” He sipped at his tea, swirling the cup around before placing it on the tray in front you.

“I’m human, Lucifer, and this stuff costs money and time! What makes you think I’d have explored the alps in their entirety!” The scenery outside was enough to keep you fascinated, let alone the mountain trip approaching.

You could hear faint snoring behind you in the aisle and Beel munching on whatever food he had. Levi was babbling about how he’s seen this exact area in such and such while Asmo doted on the woman on the other side of the train. They pulled straws to choose who’d be sitting with you, short had to sit the next aisle over. They’re convinced Mammon cheated, but he insisted that if that were the case he wouldn’t have Lucifer in the same row as you two. Lucifer was offended, but it was entertaining to listen to them bicker as Satan told you about his most recent series.

You were on the train for much longer than you figured you’d be, causing eventually the whole party to lament. Once you arrived, you all were thrilled and ready to explore, but what caught everyone’s attention the fastest was the cathedral in the middle of the town.

“Beautiful architecture.” Lucifer noted, smiling to himself. “Catholic imagery has always had its appeal despite its not so kind depiction of us.” You could hear Satan scoff and you giggled at his reaction.

“I agree.” you could smell the incense from the exit of the train station. “I was shocked to find you and Satan are two separate beings.” You moved toward Lucifer as Beel lifted Belphie and his bags back up.

“Man, churches are kinda eh, if you ask me. Pretty but uncomfortable!” Mammon thumbed his nose up and pushed his sunglasses up, though with the current weather, they are unneeded. “Ain’t these places supposed to be sunny?”

“It’s Europe,” you sighed, “it’s always cloudy!”

“Still too hoooooot…” Asmo whined. “And we have to walk to where we are staying??? Ugh!” He looked exhausted despite having just sat for hours. “I’m already so beat!”

Satan started walking eastward. “Well, to rest, we need to actually get there first!”

“Well, that building has people giving out refreshments!” Beel notes, also feeling thirsty and tired. And hungry. “Maybe they have food.”

“Uhhhh,” you start, ready to protest but Mammon, Asmo, Levi and Beel (also Belphie) are already heading that direction.

“I don’t see why we can’t go inside. Perhaps we might learn something interesting.” Lucifer suggests and Satan gives up on trying to get to the cabin and follows suit. You give in as well.

Getting up close, you’re even more impressed. The stained glass and Roman build, the renaissance ambience, its all amazing. You inhale the scent of incense again and exhale. It’s hard to not be familiar with any Christian establishment in this world, especially of a Catholic nature and within Europe. Nuns were walking around the courtyard and they greet your party, speaking German. Satan speaks it eloquently and they offer to give you home baked bread. Beel obliges and eats it up in seconds.

“Danke.” You feel strange, receiving food from a place you abandoned long ago. You find it strange how the brothers seem so unbothered by it’s presence, but considering the various interpretations of demons, it makes sense.

“So holy water won’t burn huh?” You ask Asmo, who is drinking to his hearts content.

“This is bottled water, sweetie… I don’t think it’s holy unless they bless it.” He winks and offers the rest to you.

“Yeah… I think it’s funny how you guys are so… chill.” You trail off and fixate onto the crucifix adorning the doors of the church.

Asmo blinks and looks at you deeply. “It’s just a building. Humans get a lot of stuff wrong about us, don’t worry.” He sees your sudden shift in mood. “I love how cute you get when you’re worried.” He tries to soften the mood and make you smile.

Your eyes remain transfixed on the building. “I’m not worried, I just never thought I’d be back at one of these after meeting you guys. Any house of worship, really, especially a Christian one.”

Asmo looks confused. “I don’t really know this stuff, I just know they think we torture bad humans and there’s like 9 layers of the Devildom… oh and that Lilith was a human that corrupted the first human man or whatever.” He leans in closer. “Do the books and stuff say anything about me????”

“Yeaaahh.” You respond and finally look away from the doors. “I don’t really remember that much. All I really remember is the stuff about Lucifer.”

He pouts and walks to the doors. “Man, why is he so special. He’s beautiful but he isn’t me.” He pushed them open and the sound of the old doors creaking open make you jump.

The nuns look over in your direction and your face goes red. Satan comes up from behind you and grabs your shoulders. “Jumping like that makes you seem more demon than we.” He looked down at you and you shuffled out of his grip.

“Those things are too loud to be that old.” You hear Mammon say looking toward you. He has a cheeky grin on his face and his sunglasses now folded and hanging on his shirt. “Don’t worry,” he nudges, “I’ll protect ya from any scary nuns.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but smile. Satan looks to where Asmo has stopped inside, admiring the—

“Gold!” Mammon shouts and chases after Asmo.

“There he goes again… do you want to go inside?” Satan asks you and you look aside to the rest of the brothers who are now looking toward you.

“It seems like…” you look at their eager and curious faces. “You all want to go in.”

“Is it wrong to be curious? We never get that much time here especially in a place with fictional depictions of us. You could say it’s like we are evil celebrities here.” Satan mentions and he’s right. Who wouldn’t want to know what someone wrote about them, especially if that many people believe it.

“Okay.” You say, nodding. “I wouldn’t mind seeing what they’re burning. It smells really good.”

You go inside and find yourself shoulder to shoulder with Asmo once again who was scurrying around trying to figure out what everything is. “Hey! Mc, what’s that man doing?”

“He’s going into confession.” You answer bluntly.

“Confession?” Asmo ponders aloud.

Mammon interrupts, “yeah you don’t know what that is? You confess to people stuff.”

“Kinda. But to a priest and it’s your sins.” You add, moving along to find where the smell is coming from.

“Ooooh… so it’s like that ‘daddy, sorry I’ve been naughty’ thing!” Asmo looks jubilant.

“Uh, more like ‘forgive me father, for I have sinned.’” Their ignorance is shocking. Don’t they know anything? “You really not know that or are you joking?”

Asmo taps his finger on his lip. “What’s the difference?”

Both you and Mammon look shocked now. You say, “uh, ones horny ones not!”

Asmo looks offended almost. “Are you not supposed to be horny in church?”

You froze and blinked for a minute. “Huh?” Thank the gods that there aren’t any English speakers around. “You… Asmo, you know lust is a sin.”

“Obviously but I was curious! It’s really funny that sorta stuff is sinful even though I see sexy nun costumes all over the place at Halloween in the human world. Don’t forget sexy priest too!”

It’s unfathomable what you hear from them sometimes, especially when it makes no sense. They’ve mastered your language, understand human pop culture for the most part, they even know some chunks of human history, but the one thing they don’t know is directly about them?

Lucifer joins your group. “You seem rather shocked, Mc. Is something wrong?”

“How do you not know anything about the group responsible for the whole religion condemning you?” You ask and Lucifer sighs.

“Well, as you know, I’ve long detested how I am depicted as well as the fact that Satan and I aren’t even considered separate beings. Truth be told, I just never encouraged them or myself to learn anything about it after the fall. I didn’t want them to be upset. Now, since you’re here, I think we might be more willing to interact with it.” Lucifer looks content and his words sound honest. That also makes sense but it’s still very mind-boggling their ignorance. “Mc, I only know what I’ve been told to be honest. I know much more about other depictions of demons that might be more accurate to us. But most human tales are a bit ridiculous.” Lucifer notes, scrolling to show you an image of Baphomet. “You mean to tell me most humans think this is me when it quite literally isn’t even me in the tale itself?”

“Yeah, I guess if it got that crazy, I would stay out of it too. Plus it’s not like you could really intervene and tell people it isn’t true.” You feel Lucifer’s cold hand on the small of your back. “Huh?”

“I’m curious, what did you think when you were going to meet us?” Lucifer looks at you, smiling.

“Well… a lot to be honest. Demons are depicted as deceitful, they’re to lure humans into sin. They’ll often treat you kindly, seduce you, or do whatever to make you feel safe and then take everything from you so I sorta expected that… but also I knew deep down that there’s no way that’s all true.” You answer him honestly.

He chuckles. “We do treat you kind, seduce you, and try to make you feel safe. Do you worry we are manipulating you?” He’s smiling but he’s hiding concern in his voice.

“Truth be told, the church manipulates so much that I figured I’d be used to it.” You only make him laugh again. “I know you guys love me.”

“Hmm, if I was expected to confess all of my wrongdoings to one person I’d feel terrible as well. That’s a lot of power to give one person, Mc.” His hand remains on your back and is now accompanied by Asmo’s arm.

“Heyyyy! We can all get a touch, can’t we??? I’d happily confess all my naughty thoughts to you, Mc!” Asmo snakes himself in between you and Lucifer. “And all the naughty things I’ve done.

“I’m sure you would.” You grin now, a thought coming into your head. “Say, wonder what that priest would say if I told him I’ve been bedding with demons.”

Lucifer grinned. “I’m sure they’d consider you quite the sinful human. I imagine sleeping with demons make for quite the punishment?” You nudged him playfully and stood by him for a minute.

“Don’t go getting too many ideas now.”

The clouds in the sky were heavy, ready to downpour. Lucifer pulled them group out of the church and you said your goodbyes to the nuns and made your way to your lodgings. It wasn’t too long of a journey, the rain only began when you were a few blocks from it. Lucifer rented an airbnb for your group and it was a homely loft, almost castle-like. It was clearly an older structure but had been receiving regular updates. It had only 4 bedrooms, but a multitude of beds for you all to share.

“So who gets to sleep with Mc?” Oh no. It has begun.

Beel asked the question innocently and Mammon was the first to speak up. “Obviously me!”

Asmo next. “Well, I think they want to sleep with me.”

Then Belphie half asleep. “Me n’ Beel should share.”

And then Satan. “I came up with the idea for the trip so I should pick where I sleep first and I choose where Mc plans to stay.”

Then Lucifer. “You picked it and I did the planning, I deserve first pick.”

Then Levi. “I never get to go first so I should!”

It was always bound to be chaos when you had to share rooms especially with seven demons completely obsessed with you.

You spoke up. “Let me try to make this fair. I guess I should choose first?”

They all agreed and you wandered the space. One room was large with one king sized bed in the middle, accompanied by a large window showing you the outside view of the woods. It was a dark room, much like the rest of the loft. Next there was another large room, this one with one bunk bed and another bed caddy cornered against the wall. It only has one window and small laterns hung to the ceiling, it’s charming and fantasy like. Thirdly, there’s another slightly smaller room complete with two beds next to each other, it wasn’t anything impressive, just like a hotel room complete with dark academia ambience. And lastly, a room about the same size as the next, another set of beds similar to the previous room but this time, it had a large window the exact same as the first room. The view in this one was certainly on par with the first one and you debated over which one.

But the answer was clear to you. “I want the first room. One more person can fit in the bed with me.” They looked as though they were ready to fight. “Okay, let’s do it this way… pick a number 1-50.”

“Ugh… 7.” Belphie answered.

“33.” Satan.

“I was gonna choose that one! 44.” Mammon.

“12.” Lucifer.

“Hmm… 24.” Levi.

“18!” Asmo.

And then Beel. “40.”

You waited a moment before saying who won. “Asmo gets to sleep with me.”

The brothers sighed of annoyance as Asmo celebrated and came up to you. “Yaaay! We’re gonna have lots of fun together.” He wrapped his arms around your hips and you pushed him back.

“Don’t get too touchy now. And don’t go feeling me up as I try to go to sleep, ‘kay???”

He pouted. “That’s no fun but I guess I will listen.”

You all started to move into your rooms and settle in. You could see the sunsetting as the downpour was intense. The sound was nice and calming, it made you want to cuddle up and relax with the brothers, but other things were on their minds. You walked up to the window to watch as the rain fell, gazing out into the woods.

“Mc, what are you thinking about?” Asmo asked, plopping onto the bed.

“Nothing really, just shocked Lucifer didn’t check the weather better.” You answered, briefly gazing back at Asmo.

“It must’ve not been in the forecast. You seemed upset earlier.” His voice went serious. “Was the church uncomfy for you?” He pulled at your arm to get you to sit on the bed.

“You could say that. I was kinda worried about you guys too. But really… there’s just not a lot of good in places like that. Even though they pretend to be good.” You chose your words wisely, not wanting to venture deeper.

He waited a moment before responding. “Okay. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah I’m good, to be honest…” you trailed off and your cheeks went pink. “I joked with Lucifer about how the priest would react if he found out I’ve been fucking you guys.”

Asmo giggled. “I imagine they’d be jealous, hun.” He rolled onto his back and cocked his head. “Ever seen any pretty ones?”

“Pretty priests??? Most of them are old.” You laughed, confused by his question.

“Well, it’d be funny if I were to seduce one huh? As a demon? It might be fun!” He suggested, his brain filling with naughty ideas.

You laid back beside him. “Well, they’re people too. I bet they wanna fuck.”

He turned his head to you slowly. “Have you ever been attracted to anyone of a pure status?”

You squinted at him, smirking. “Well, it is interesting to consider defiling them. But no one has ever caught my eye.”

“Demons love to corrupt.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Mc, I have… an idea.”

Uh oh. You looked at him and shrugged. “Okay.”

“You’ve already been corrupted by demons, so why not get punished by priests.” He suggested, nonchalantly.

“You want me to go get fucked by priests?” You were shocked, looking at him like he’s crazy.

“No silly, even better! Us pretending to be priests!!!! See, it sounds fun!”

Asmo was a man of many talents and many thoughts, but this one hit multiple parts of your psyche. Religious trauma, arousal, demons, kinks, and your insatiable lust for all of the above to be combined. Something you didn’t know until now. Well. Really, that’s a lie. It has always been arousing to consider how, as Asmo said, they’ve corrupted you, but to fantasize about retribution? Now, that’s new.

Asmo ran his hand up your arm. “Mc, you’ve been thinking a while…”

You snapped back in. “I like that idea.” You couldn’t be shy around him anymore, there’s no point with how well he can read you now. “So you wanna include the rest of them?”

“Satan and Lucifer will likely love this idea. Lucifer loves to punish as you know.” Asmo leaped up from the bed. “Let me go ask them now!”

“Hey!” You raced after him and he shouted for everyone to gather in the middle of the room. You were already feeling hot, embarrassment searing through you.

The brothers walked out of their rooms, complaining of being summoned, too tired, or annoyed. Asmo grinned eagerly and awaited for you to get beside him.

“So! Our lovely Mc confided in me of something naughty!” Asmo wrapped an arm around you and you saw the mood of the room instantly change.

“Naughty?” Lucifer’s mouth widened into a grin. “Do tell.”

The rest of them all nodded in agreement. Belphie yawned. “We just got here and they’re horny huh?”

You shot Belphie daggers with your eyes. “Asmo suggested I merely agreed.” He laughed at your response and looked at Asmo, eagerly awaiting to hear your fantasy.

“Mc has been dirtied by all of us, corrupted and fucked nice and good, so it’s up to the holy to punish them for their sins, is it not?”

Satan was the first to respond. “And we are to take up these holy roles?” He leaned on the railing to the stairs, propping his elbows up and resting his chin on his hands, his eyes lowering. “I quite like that.”

Lucifer chuckled. “Sounds interesting.”

“So we’re gonna punish ‘em?” Mammon looked to you, his face unreadable.

Levi came up beside Mammon, making him jump. “Ohhhh this is like that one episode of That One Time I Got Turned Into A Human! I know exactly what to do!” Levi looked even more excited that Satan or Lucifer.

Beel was still quiet but he looked deep in thought. When his eyes met yours you instantly knew what he was thinking about. You could see hunger in his eyes, this one not for food.

“So we’re all in agreement? Why don’t we do it tonight since we are all rained in?” Mammon broke the silence and to your own surprise as well.

“Hm, it’s short notice but I’m sure we can negotiate a scene.” Lucifer nodded and looked around to see everyone’s reactions and then his gaze landed back on you. “Shall we get on with it then?”

You breathed in deeply. “Yeah.”

[writers-potion]

Hello there. New to tumblr and really enjoying your posts. Can I please ask if you have any ideas/advice on how to write the experience of seeing and hearing things others don't and the disorienting feeling of trying to distinguish this from reality? Thank you 💚

Writing Characters With Special Senses

Hey! Thanks for the ask :)

I’m going to categorize the various types of “hallucinations” your characters may experience: 

Super-Sensitive Senses 

This is where your character would see/hear/smell things that others cannot. Hypersensitivity is generally considered a superpower, but what if it gets too much?

Your character can hear the sound of people’s blood flowing in their veins…which is indistinguishable from the sound of the nearby river, or the water flowing from a tap.

A party or buffet always smells faintly of blood from the barbeque/steak being served…which smells dangerously close to human blood, making a party smell like a murder scene for the character. 

You can depict the disadvantages of hypersensitivity where being able to pick up minute stimuli actually creates confusion for the character as to what they’re sensing is even real or not. They might:

Be scared of going outside because the world is simply too much for them to process

Get a headache

Develop random sets of allergies

So, your character might: 

Try to impair their sense of smell/sight, etc. because a flood of stimuli is actually painful for them

Avoid certain places and people

Befriend animals with senses above that of a human. A character who can smell extremely well will vibe with their Golden Retriever more than their human buddies. 

Struggle with anxiety that something bad is happening. When you have too much stimuli to process, one of them will always tend to be ominous.

Seeing Another Realm

This is where your character has “The Sight” per se. They see elves, fairies, demons that others cannot see. 

They feel scared and horrified. They might even seek psychological help and try to “kill” what they see. If they still can’t get rid of them, they may choose to ignore them.

On the other hand, the character might try to befriend and follow the things they see. They may actually have fun chasing and exploring these outworldly creatures. But once the Sight fades or the creatures disappear, they’re left teary and empty. 

They may cope with this by drawing pictures and writing diaries about what they see. 

Gamified Reality 

This is where your character is living in a “game world” or the world suddenly becomes (partly) gamified for them. They’ll see instruction panels popping up, HP bars or see profiles of other people as game characters. 

Your character might have fun with this “game”, but slowly start to confuse the purpose of their life with the tasks handed to them by this “game”

Your character starts to over rely on the game to form relationships. For example, let’s say a character can see a “Likeability Score” to determine how much the other person likes them. They start distrusting people with a lower number and obsess over increasing the “Likeability Score” rather than being themselves.

One day, the gamified reality suddenly disappears, but the character is left living in that reality, viewing the world as a gamer would.

Hallucinating

This is where the character actually sees stuff that doesn’t exist at all. Generally, these hallucinations will originate from a preexisting (almost always negative) memory, or is the result of a compulsion the character has. 

The character may make up a chant to make the bad memories/hallucinations go away. (e.g. “he’s gone, he’s gone, this isn’t real.”)

The character has a sign of their own which helps them distinguish hallucinations. For example, the hallucinations might be extremely real but with a slight red glow to them. 

The character may actually talk nicely to the hallucinations to go away and wait for them to fade. Each time they meet someone, they would mutter, "please go", wait for two seconds and if the person doesn't lose transparency, you know they're real.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

💎For early access to my content,  become a Writing Wizard 

[quitealotofsodapop]

So, Egged MK is almost certainly put on house arrest after the self-sacrifice stunt, but whose house? His, Pigsy and Tangs, where he was raised and will be most comfortable? Flower Fruit Mountain where Sun and Macaque can keep an eye on him and he is constantly loved on by all the monkeys? The bull families where there's an entire army of bull clones serving him, Red is always close by and Iron Bull can keep an eye on him and their grand calf?

I feel like after a lot of fighting, they eventually set up a rotation, so MK won't go crazy staying in one place.

Ref.

Oh definitely!

MK hates the idea of being cooped up in one place for too long - no matter how much his dads, mentors, and Red try to get him to rest in his delicate condition. Especially after harnessing the powers of the Five Stones and trying to sacrifice himself to the Pillar. That put MK in timeout at Pigsy's for a while.

MK was pretty much passed out after harnessing so much power. Pigsy and Tang made sure he was all nice and tucked into his bed, and fed his favourite dishes every night. MK felt like a little kid staying home sick from school all over again.

Sandy always drops in to make sure MK is taking his natal vitamins and drinking ginger tea for his morning sickness. He's a big softie and can't stand the thought of the Egg being hurt from all that hero-ing they did. He very briefly curses the Black Tortoise for putting MK under so much stress, but quickly apologies and offers some peppermint cookies he baked. Mo happily curls up on MK's lap during these visits - purring loudly against the monkey's belly as if he can hear what's inside.

Mei visited near daily - keeping her fave monkey man up to date on how chaotic their world had become now that billions of people shouldered the Pillar. Lots of funny videos are shared of humans' whose powers activated for the first time.

Red visits as well, not only to tag along with Mei as they did before, but to "court" MK in a subdued fashion. His Noodle Boy isn't in the shape for hitting the town just yet - but MK def finds the flowers, sweets, and heartfelt conversations just as good. Often they fall asleep in each other's arms. Pigsy pretends he didn't see them.

Wukong feels nervous leaving MK alone at all. This monkey will leave a hair clone hidden in the room to keep an eye on MK. Macaque catches Wukong doing this after a single day and scolds him. Only for MK to reveal that he's been seeing Macaque watching him from the shadow of his tv all morning.

After roughly a week; MK develops major cabin fever and is nearly screaming to be let out of his room. It smells. He hasn't had a real shower. He wants to get his own cheese tea!

Begrudgingly his family lets him.

Only for an arguement to spike up between the dads, monkeys, and the Bull family about where MK is going to stay for the remainder of his pregnancy.

Pigsy and Tang advocate for MK to stay in his apartment. Keep him somewhere familiar and close to his family and modern medicine.

Wukong and Macaque suggest Flower Fruit Mountain. That's where MK was born, and where he accidentally spawned his Egg. Maybe his Stone Monkey instincts would prefer returning to his island of birth to have his own baby?

DBK and PIF of course want MK to come live at the Bull Palace in the Flaming Mountains. Him and Red Son have already expressed their intent to court one another, and the Egg has taken enough dao from Red to be considered her child. They can have an entire squadron of Bull Clone servants tending to MK's every need. They are not only concerned for their future grandchild, but for MK himself. PIF's pregnancy with Red was very risky, and they both have trauma from the dramatic birth. If MK were to truly go into distress as so many records of Stone Monkeys suggest, then they want him nearby so that they comfort him and even call in Xiwangmu or Guanyin to help.

The argument continues even as MK walks in through the door with Red and Mei at his side.

MK: "Hey guys, is it okay if I had like a rotation for where I stayed the night?" Wukong: "Huh? Why?" MK: "I want to keep up my training as much as possible, but I know Dadsy and Baba would get worried about me. And I know the baby is gonna be a little fiery-bull baby, so I need to get used to the palace." Mei: "Don't forget sleepovers with da best auntie ever." MK: "Word. And I don't want anyone to think I prefer anyone over them! I love all you guys, and I hope that the baby does too." (*puppy-dog eyes*)

The fam shares glances... and agree to MK's plan.

Being a monkey, MK is instinctually drawn to make a nightly nest, something that before only manifested as messy blanket-hogging. Now he's cooking a mini-monkey, that instinct evolves into making a literal blanket fort every night.

What better way to indulge this instinct than by letting him make a fresh nest in all his favourite locations (almost) every night?

Pigsy and Tang are as adoring as before. They start clearing out the upstairs storage space to make a nursery for the Egg. MK catches Pigsy swearing as he assembles a crib, and just starts bawling at the sweet gesture. The apartment is sort of MK's "default" nesting space when he can't decide on somewhere or would be left alone otherwise.

DBK and PIF are surprisingly protective of MK in this time - owing to PIF's own past pregnancy with Red Son being so risky. The queenly demoness shows MK all of Red Son's most embarrassing wood-block paintings, and all the baby clothes they had saved for just an occasion. DBK will literally carry MK to and from the bathroom if he so pleases it (Red has tried, but can barely carry MK to the couch before he gets winded). His nickname of "Little Thief" now evolved into a term of endearment - what else to call the one who stole his son's heart? The army of robotic Bull Clones tend to MK's every whim - he feels uncomfortable asking a regular servant, and still thanks the robots for their help. [MK just seems like someone who'd thank an automatic door or roomba.]

MK's stays on Flower Fruit Mountain is always time for celebration. The little monkeys can tell that he's carrying, and swarm him for grooming and nap times. Wukong isn't comfortable teaching MK anything too strenuous at this time, but he does trick him into attending pre-natal yoga classes. Macaque is barely any better - he helps MK with his nightly nest-building, like a grand-monkey helping their grown cub. Macaque is the first to confirm the Egg's "quickening" when MK starts to feel it. The monkeys are just delighted to be in each other's company at this time.

If MK just wants some time with his bestie, he heads over to Mei. She has her own apartment deeper in the city, and has already tricked out an "MK and EK room!" ("EK?" "Egg Kid!") for their visits. It took her a moment to understand why MK was making a blanket fort, but she happily joined in when she realised it was a nesting behaviour! Dragons naturally join in with nesting to keep their litter-mates and their eggs warm. There's def photos of MK fast asleep in the nest, hugging Mei tight. She captions one of the photos "Looks like I'm a body pillow tonight. Future nibling has started kicking!"

Occasionally during his time with the Bull fam; MK runs off with Red to the Fire-Wind Cave for... meditating. And actual meditating since MK learned that Red Son used to be Guanyin's disciple and wanted to know what he learned from that time. Lots of soft cuddling and bonding occurs.

A few time Xiwangmu has busted in and offered MK some time in the Celestial Realm so that she can get to know him and her future great-grandcub. MK only comes once he's assured that the time difference isn't how the stories claim it to be (a celestial day is just super long, not actually a whole year passing on earth), and that he can take Red Son or his family as company. Xiwangmu has already prepared an entire wing of the Jade Palace in preparations for the new royal baby.

MK get's time alone of course. If he's not in his regular spots, he's normally playing arcade games or enjoying some nice street food. He makes a point of leaving offerings at the Temple of Nüwa. He wants to honour the goddess that gave him life, and the choice to preserve the lives of this world.

So it's no wonder that MK's Stone Egg 100% ends up being born in none of these super-safe places...

foreshadowing

[rickydicky-doodahgrimes]

can you share you rick grimes headcanons? both sfw and nsfw if possible!

I absolutely can!

Rick Grimes dating headcanons:

SFW:

He's not very big on PDA. It's not that he doesn't enjoy it, or that he hates it, he just has a lot of other things on his mind when you're out in public.

He has a smile that's meant only for you. It took a while for you to notice the subtle nuances of it, but it became pretty clear even before you were together.

After being on the road for so long, it's hard for him to sleep alone. Even if you're just in the same room as him, it calms him greatly. Neither of you realized how much he looked to you for comfort in that unforgiving time until those moments bled into the safety of Alexandria.

He's a gift giver, it's one of his big love languages. Physical touch is nice, so is quality time, but that's not always something you can give each other. To make up for it, he's constantly giving you small trinkets he's found. He commissions works from other settlements just for you. (Small crafts/arts that he's sure you'll love.)

Wallets aren't necessary, or important, anymore. But he carries a nice leather one when he's away for long periods of time. There's no money in it, only pictures of you and his kids.

Despite how he cares for his Colt Python and keeps it immaculate, he isn't surprised when you return it to him after borrowing it with the smallest of carvings on the side of the barrel. It's very 1980s high school romance with the way your initial and his are surrounded by an almost perfect heart. You never notice, but at some point, he carefully scratched it a little deeper so it wouldn't fade away with time and use.

Inside or outside of the walls, he tries to keep you within arms reach. Even the slightest hint of trouble and he's got his hand wrapped around your arm and pulling you behind him. It's become instinct for you to turn and press your back to his in those moments, a silent understanding that both of you would die for the other.

He never really asks you to marry him. It's more of a declaration of love that he is determined to keep forever. Despite the end of the world, he's determined to find you the perfect ring and he doesn't have it when he spills his heart out to you. Instead, he offers you the wedding band on his own finger. He knows that the idea of giving you a ring from his previous marriage is taboo, and it certainly won't fit you, but you accept it with glee. You wear it on a chain around your neck, right next to a small charm of the letter R.

He naturally prefers you to care for Judith and Carl over anyone else. It's not that he doesn't trust the rest of the group, but more that he considers you to be their mother in every way except biological.

After a particularly rough day, the only thing he wants to do is wrap his arms around your waist and bury his face in your neck. It doesn't matter what soap you're currently using, he can still smell you underneath it and that's all it takes to calm his shaky nerves.

If you're into tattoos, you ask him if he would ever consider getting one with you. He's hesitant, of course. It's not that he doesn't want to share something so permanent with you, it's just not something he ever saw himself doing. Eventually, he'll agree to something small and hidden. Names are off limits, even in the end of the world, so you settle on something personal, but not obvious.

You get a small outline of his pistol on your ribcage. He gets a small outline of hand holding on his chest. The freckle on your hand is matched perfectly to the small hand of his tattoo.

NSFW:

He's not a particularly rough lover. The world is hard and brutal enough, the last thing he wants to do is add to the discomfort of it all. But if you ask him to get a little rougher in the bedroom, he'll oblige you. The first time (and the second, third, fourth...), he's constantly checking in with you to make sure that he's not hurting you.

Even after months or years together, he still looks at you like you're the most wonderous, precious thing in the world when you're slotted together. He just can't believe that after everything he's done, who he had to become, you still choose to be with him.

He is incredibly careful about avoiding pregnancy. Even if he's lost in the moment, even if your legs are locked around his waist, he never cums inside of you. He can't bare the thought of bringing another life into this world.

Until he can, of course. And he makes sure to turn that into a full conversation of pros and cons beforehand. He absolutely wants to have children with you, he needs to see you become a mother to a child of your own and he wants to be the one to give that to you.

When you finally decide to start trying, it's the softest and most gut wrenchingly sweet love making you have ever experienced in your life.

"Our baby needs to be made of nothing but love. Only love. Our love."

He surprises you the first time he pulls you into his lap when you're outside the safety of your home. You're outside the walls, just the two of you. It was so surprising that the sound you make at his sudden moves actually scares him.

Despite how afraid he is to be too rough with you, he is still incredibly passionate. Love bites are a given, but they're always hidden underneath the fabric of your shirts. You give him the same curtesy with your own marks; love bites and scratches alike.

He doesn't get jealous easily, but when he does, it's clear in the way he sets his jaw. It's also clear in the way he drives you into the mattress later that night, his pace slow and bruising.

"Who was that?" "I'm not really sure, Rick. He just introduced himself today." "That explains why he was so eager to try and hang on you." "Are you jealous?" "Of that guy? Pfft." "You're jealous." "... Maybe a little."

No one is really surprised when you show up the next morning with a love bite just barely peaking over the collar of your shirt. You had tried to wear a shirt that covered it, knowing that Rick likes to keep your private life private, but he was quick to ask you to change your shirt.

"I put it there on purpose, ya know."

[f1oricide]

We all have cravings

Yan! Mikey x reader

This is kinda like a part two for the Yan Mikey hc I made. Also just know this is strictly fiction, I do NOT support this Irl if you do please seek help. This is my contribution to horrortober ig. I did not proof read this at all so I hope u enjoy my brain rot.

Tw: build up, poor writing, blood, kidnapping, yandere themes, cannibalistic themes, anxiety, panic attacks, nonconsensual touching (nonsexual), overall bad time for y/n

I hate my job. Customer service is bitch in a half, I swear to god customer service employees are doing gods work. I can’t even wipe tables in piece without some lady yelling at me about how her frappe has too much ice like it’s a global issue. What’s worse is how I spend 8 hours of my life for this, I need a better job.

Walking down the slightly empty streets of New York, my body aching for my beloved bed. I look at the shops as I walk by, absorbing all the trinkets and doodads inside. One place though, stopped me in my tracks, a quaint little bakery near by an alleyway. the inside had a golden glow to it, it was almost unreal, beautiful, and the smell was amazing.

so as any normal young adult would do, I walk in, not knowing what I want to buy. I instantly feel regret setting inside my stomach, why did I walk in? Oh god I can’t just leave without buying anything, maybe they didn’t noticed I walked in? Looking around right as that thought sped through my mind, I made eye contact with the baker, they greeted me, but god of course they saw me.

Well due to social obligation, I HAVE to buy something. Panic started to rise as I still have no idea what to buy, knowing the baker isn’t even rushing me, the panic is still there. Just as I thought all hope was lost, I felt another pair of eyes on me. Turning I see a man in a trench coat and fedora, staring at me through the glass like I’m one of the wonders of the world. Weirdo. We make eye context for a second before he snaps out of it, and stumbles inside.

Thank god, an out I thought as the man walked closer to the counter. “You can order first if you’d like, Im still deciding.” We made eye contact again, despite the added difficulty the fedora he was wearing made. “Wow, thanks stranger! You know this place has some delicious raspberry sweet rolls! I totally recommend them if you haven’t tried any!” Sweet rolls? As a recommendation? This dude just keeps getting weirder and weirder, but considering I don’t know what else to get, I might as well try it, what’s the harm? “Hmm that does sound tempting, maybe I will” making sure to add a smile after, the man seems to beam at my remark. “Trust me, they are AMAZING especially with some chamomile tea and vanilla scones”

Pfft- What are you? A rich old white British lady? “Pfft hahahah! Good one, it really does sound like I am huh?” He continues to laugh even harder as the “joke” sets in as I stare in shock and horror. Did I really just say that out loud? “My names Mikey, what’s yours stranger?” He says while wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh uhm- y/n” were doing introductions now I guess. “Well y/n it’s nice to meet you” holding his hand out, I didn’t fail to notice the green skin and the three fingers outstretched towards me.

Oh my god, what the hell?! An excuse, think of an excuse. “We should probably order, don’t wanna hold up the line” good one me. He looks behind us and I follow suit; low and behold, no one else of course. He chuckles before turning back to me and says, “I guess you have a point”. Retracting his hand he turns to the cashier and places his order. The cashier told him that he’s gonna have to wait for 20 minutes for it to be ready, Mikey nods and turns to me before asking the cashier for those raspberry sweet rolls. Oh god-

“Oh can you make those separate?” I sputter before Mikey quickly answers, “I insist, I don’t want you to waste your money if you don’t like it!” Convincing argument plus free food? You win this round “Mikey”.

After paying Mikey and I go to sit down at a nearby booth. Maybe I have him pegged wrong my mind started rationalizing. Maybe it’s a medical condition? We sat for a good minute in silence as I’m overthinking per usual. “So, what do plan to do with a whole loaf of zope bread?” I say to avoid the loud thoughts buzzing through my head. “Oh! Well I was planning on making it myself but I might as well try this places zone, I’m planning on pairing it with some-“ before he can continue, the cashier called out the raspberry sweet rolls to catch out attention.

I got the rolls and walked back to the booth. “Well, here’s my order”

…

“So…see ya…”

Before I could even take a step though, Mikey shot up “whaaat?! B-but you didn’t even try it! I want to see if you like it or not!” He stared at me with pleading eyes, like a dog begging it’s human for a treat. Why is he so invested in this? “I didn’t think you’d want to know my feedback..” “well duhhh, I recommend it to you, I just have to know i hit the nail on the head!” Oh… well whatever it takes to leave faster. I grabbed a roll and popped it in my mouth, it was EXPLODING with flavor. I think Mikey could tell with the knowing smirk that spread across his face.

After that we started talking more in the restaurant, I got to know him more. Apparently he has three more brothers, when he made me guess which one he was, it wasn’t hard to tell he’s the youngest. Eventually his order was done, disappointment sent in me because, well, this was actually a pleasant interaction with a not so total stranger. Acquaintance if you will. By the time his order was ready, I already ate all the rolls, so I guess this is it.

“It was nice meeting you, I didn’t really plan staying out this late.” I said as we walked out, the sky nearly dark. “It was reallyyy nice meeting you too, you know…” he stated reaching in his pocket. “If you need any more expert cooking advice, give me a call!”

.

.

.

That should’ve been it, but noooo, I just HAD to call back, we just HAD to get to know each other more, he just HAD to show me his ���secret” identity…I just HAD to fall in love…no..for his tricks

It all started with food, a fucking roll no less. He fed me and like a wild animal I kept coming back. I ignored all the red flags, all my friends concerns, not noticing how they quickly left my life after venting to Mikey about them. I kept coming back for more like a dumb dumb animal.

But now here I am, a small closet with one twin bed and barren walls, no fan or vent. What did I do to deserve this? What avengers level threat did I cause to end up here? There’s barely anything to do besides relive old mistakes and sweat. Dare I say it, I even miss my job and being a useful member of society.

The door finally opened the reveal the devil himself, Mikey. But somethings off…I’ve been here long enough to read Mikey’s face like a book. He looks nervous, like he wants something nervous… fear started to creep within me, what did he want now?

Usually he brings stuff in like crafts or food and water, but this time, it’s just him. Closing the door behind him, he speaks. “Hi my Angel…” a grimace grew on my face. That nickname used to make me swoon, but now it makes me want to throw up. “I have a very important question to ask you”

This was the question that ruined my life…and I thought it couldn’t get any worse… he wanted me…ME. To… just the thought is making me gag- EAT HIM. LITERALLY. The thoughts in my head started swarming me, his justifications and explanations fall on deaf ears as the room swirls around me. He gently grabs my forearms snapping me back, since when did I start crying? I can’t even breath right, I feel like I’m drowning.

“Listen, I know it sounds really really REALLY crazy, but I need you to trust me… you’ll be okay. This will be good for us! We’ll be together all the time isn’t that great?” No, it’s not great, far from it actually. “I won’t force you to do it now of course, take your time, I’ll wait, I’ll always wait for you”

Ever since then, no matter how much I stalled, it was only putting off the inevitable. No matter what I did, it never swayed him. Actually, it did, but not how I would’ve wanted. He started giving me less and less to eat. It started off small with a few less portions, but I never noticed the twitch in his smile whenever I put down his encouragement to chomp on his arm. He started giving less portions and no breakfast anymore, id be lucky if he gave me dinner.

Im hungry, starving even. It hurts, it hurts so so much. He would always come in more often, lifting his arm and encouraging me to bite. “Come on, you can do it baby”. It pisses me off. How dare you kidnap me after I gave you my trust. How dare you put me in a cramped tiny room, having to solely rely on you for everything. HOW DARE YOU force me to break EVERYTHING I thought was RIGHT all while you look at me and TELL ME YOU LOVE ME.

.

.

.

I hate you. I failed to notice hot tears running down my face. I hate you. I also failed to notice how hard I shook, how my teeth grinding against each other until it hurt. FUCKING I HATE YOU

Red, it’s all I can see. I used laughing when any character in media say they saw red, can you blame me? It sounds so…dumb, but I get it now. I understand, how ironic. Apparently, I could..taste red too…

Snapping back to reality a brick of drowsiness crashes down onto me, I must’ve had some high adrenaline because my jaw started hurting like a bitch. Liquid runs down my jaw, it’s warm..fresh. Why do I feel something on my tongue-

Shock slaps me in the face, my eyes go as wide as saucers, what have I done?? Looking up at Mikey I see the sheer amount of euphoria in his face, his eyes holding so much love, it might spill out. I need this thing out of me, I need HIM out. I gag trying to spit it out but he quickly puts his hand on my mouth. “you can do it, swallow quickly, it’ll all be over, your doing amazing” I don’t even think before swallow the lump down. The worst part about this whole experience was feeling the lump of meat slide down my throat and plop into my stomach. My mouth instantly starts salivating, and I’m forced to question if it’s because of the hunger still in me or the sheer amount of disgust and horror in me trying to throw it up while Mikey whispers sweet nothings in my ear.

Everything is too much. The air is too hot, too heavy, too wet. It feels horrible on my skin. It’s too noisy, to crowded, too much. Mikey only hugs me tight to his chest, his arm still bleeding , all while I lean in considering how it’s the only comfort I’ll get out of this hell hole. “I knew you’d trust me…I love you.. so so sooo much. I’ll never leave your side. We’re bound together as one, isn’t that great?”

All I could do was sob violently, slowly passing out, everything slowly fading to black.

[afewproblems]

For the angst prompts ;

"You look like hell." "I feel like it."

Famous Eddie showing up on Steve’s doorstep years after Eddie left

Oooo love this idea, thank you very much for sending it Nonny! I hope you enjoy!

***

"So, he's back in town," Robin says instead of a greeting into the receiver, a leading lilt in her voice.

Steve sighs and knocks his head into the wall beside the mounted hand set, "yeah".

She hums, the sound crackles over the line like static in Steve's ear.

"You want me to come over?" Robin asks carefully, as though dismantling a bomb, picking through what to say as gently as she can, hoping it's right.

And Steve hates it.

He hates that even after all these years, Eddie Munson can get right under his skin like this.

It should have ended back in '88, when Eddie had left them all behind to 'make it big'.

Or at least, that's what the note had said.

The one in hastily scribbled blue ink, dropped on the cold and empty side of the bed that Eddie had left. Steve had awoken alone, with only the note and the smell of weed and cigarettes and sex on his sheets.

He had tried calling the trailer, only for Wayne to pick up and explain that Eddie had been planning this for weeks, 'didn't Ed tell you?'

Eddie had left for New York along with Gareth, Jeff, and Grant, bound for city lights and a better music scene.

No, Eddie hadn't told him, but Steve didn't say that. How could he?

Instead, he thanked Wayne, his voice hoarse, and hummed something close to a yes when Wayne asked if Steve would make sure to drop by when he had time, the Pacers season had started after all.

"Steve?"

Robin's voice breezes through the phone again, jolting him back to the present.

"Sorry Birdy," he sighs, shaking the last memories of the Munson's from his mind, "don't worry about me, really".

She scoffs and Steve can almost picture the way she's certainly rolling her eyes, "I always worry about you Dingus, that's what I'm here for".

"I know".

They talk for a little longer, speculating on how much longer Clinton will last in office now that the truth has come out and which of them would host the finale of Seinfeld --'it deserves a special night Steve, we are taping it, getting as many snacks as we can, and indulging in some good old misanthropic comedy'.

He tells her goodnight after another half hour, and insists that he'll be okay.

And he will, of course he will.

It's been ten years since Eddie Munson set foot in Hawkins, and there was absolutely no reason for them to run into one another.

Well, sure, he still kept in touch with Wayne over the years --how could he not when the old man seemed to pull excuses to see him out of thin air.

Robin had always cautioned Steve on his continued relationship with Wayne, questioning why he insisted on maintaining contact with Steve.

But it was nice to have someone to watch the game with over a beer, the occasional barbecue in the summer and hell, Steve had even celebrated a Thanksgiving or two or three with Wayne Munson.

With Steve cutting off his own parents years back, it was nice to feel like he had still had someone looking out for him.

And really, there was no reason for Eddie and Steve to run into one another.

Steve would be fine.

***

It's almost a week after his call with Robin that the doorbell rings and Steve's world comes to a stop.

He's putting away the small grocery trip, and to call it that was a bit ridiculous considering the snack to fruit ratio, but Robin had been very specific about their Seinfeld watch party slated for the coming weekend.

Steve opens the fridge door to pop the milk in, tossing a, "coming!" over his shoulder as the bell rings a second time.

Steve hopes it isn't his neighbor again as he makes his way to the front hall of his small home. It would be her third time angrily telling him that the tree in his backyard had shed even more crabapples over the fence and into her yard.

And considering their postage stamp lots, where else was the poor tree going to do it?

"Look Mrs. Patterson," he says wearily as he flips on the porch light and opens the front door, "I'm going to do something about the branches this weekend--"

But it isn't Mrs. Patterson standing on his front porch.

It's Eddie Munson.

Steve blinks, feeling as though part of himself has been wrenched from his own body to watch from above. His palms are sweaty all of a sudden and there's a tightness in his chest that grips his lungs, he can't breathe.

Eddie tries for a half wave and a smile, but the effect is lost as Steve continues to stand in shocked silence.

He's thin; Eddie had always been on the lanky side but his shoulders were still broad and he was strong enough to lug his band equipment around. He's almost gaunt now, with deep set bags under his brown eyes. His curly hair hangs somewhat limp over his shoulders and he reeks of stale cigarettes.

But it's undeniably Eddie Munson standing at his front door.

There are so many questions, and Steve wants nothing more than to demand answers if he can manage to get the words out without yelling.

What are you doing here? Why are you here now? How did you know where I live?

How could you leave like that?

"You look like hell," Steve says instead, his grip tightens on the door frame as Eddie drops his head in a nod.

"I feel it".

His voice is slightly deeper, more gravely in tone now than it was ten years back.

But perhaps that's what screaming into a microphone and partying in New York for ten years will get you.

"How did you know where I live?" Steve asks after another beat of strained silence.

"Uh, Wayne, I ask him about you a lot and about half the time he'll give me an answer when he's not calling me a dumbass and telling me to call you myself".

"Wayne has been telling you about me" Steve says faintly, feeling as though he might be sick on Eddie's shoes.

Wayne, someone that Steve had been looking up to, getting advice from, and spending so much time with, had been doing so just for Eddie.

All this time.

Robin had been right to tell him to be careful.

"Leave," Steve whispers suddenly, making Eddie step back in surprise, "I don't want to see you, either of you, again".

"Wha--no, Steve, wait!"

But the door is already closing, slammed against Eddie's hands that knock and knock, pleading with him to open the door, to just hear him out.

But how can he?

It wasn't just Eddie showing up after all these years, but on top of that, everything that he thought he had with Wayne had all been some ploy to help his nephew keep tabs on him.

He'd let himself be hurt again, by another fucking Munson, one he thought he could trust.

Steve locks the door and flips off the porch light, uncaring of the muffled curse from the other side of the wood.

He doesn't want to hear what Eddie has to say, after all, Eddie hadn't cared enough to stick around all those years ago.

Why should Steve?

[potatonugget7]

You Are My Sunshine

Chapter 1 of my new QSMP borrower AU. Also posted on AO3.

TWs: Fear of death, blood and injuries, a scary owl. 3.6k words.

Tubbo never seemed to learn his lesson when it came to trusting humans. Yet there he was, fleeing yet another home. This time though, he had a child with him. Yeah, he adopted a child. Considering he was still *kind of* a kid himself, maybe it wasn't the greatest idea, but it was too late for that now, they were inseparable like glue. Now it was Tubbo and Sunny against the world! Plus she shared his love for coffee! When he was her age, he wasn't allowed coffee, so Tubbo was *pretty sure* he was doing a fine job.

Hopefully this new house wouldn't have such weird and nosy humans.

Thunder rumbled in the dusk coloured sky overhead, followed by smaller cracks and flashes of bright light as it stormed. It was spring, the season of heavy rain and occasionally snow; also known as the perfect formula for hypo-fucking-thermia. Tubbo grimaced as the rain continued to beat down on them mercilessly, another heavy drop of freezing cold water crashing down on his head as he and Sunny trudged through a muddy forest of unkempt grass blades. It would be night soon. The sun was setting already, which meant the temperature would be dropping further and dangerous predators would be out hunting.

“Sunny, remember what I said? Stick close to me so we can share the umbrella,” he chattered out and Sunny nodded, squeezing his hand tighter.

All things considered, the leaf they were using as an umbrella wasn’t very effective. They were both drenched, covered in mud and dirt. Tubbo had tried to keep her out of the mud when it first started raining, but he couldn’t carry her and the bags. He cursed under his breath, squinting up at the darkening sky. It was just not their lucky day. Correction; not their lucky week.

They had to move on short notice; in the middle of the night, which then led to walking all day. Humans travelled much faster than borrowers could and Tubbo wanted to put as much distance between them and their previous ‘house mate’. For hours they trekked through forests of overgrown grass, across plateaus of dirt and brick. Along shores of large ponds and watering holes. He was certain that by now, they must’ve travelled at least a ‘city block’ as the humans called them. 

It should be far enough. He hoped it was far enough. His legs ached and his feet were numb with cold. Tubbo wasn’t sure if it was his own exhaustion, or the rain weighing them down, but the bags felt so much heavier.

He paused as he felt a tug on his hand. Sunny had stopped and dropped the leaf-umbrella, a strained wheeze escaping her as she clutched her chest. 

“Sunny?” Tubbo dropped the bags and crouched down in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Sunny tried to nod as she coughed dryly, a pained look on her face. The poor girl had lung problems. Tubbo was pretty sure it was called asthma. It couldn’t be cured as far as he knew. He did everything he could; taught her calming breathing exercises and upon hearing that coffee supposedly could help, he started making it more often. However he wasn’t exactly sure how accurate that information was, considering its source was Pierre. Though he did quickly learn that Sunny shouldn’t have more than one cup a day or else she would be bouncing off the walls for hours. Sometimes it got really bad though, especially in the spring and all he could really do was hold her hand.

“Just stay calm princess, you’ve got this. If it hurts you can squeeze my hand, okay?” he whispered calmly, taking her hand gently.

Sunny nodded again and squeezed his hand tight. She had described the feeling to him before. 

‘I feel all tight and like the air is being squeezed out of me.’ she had explained.

“Try and pretend you’re smelling some tulips, or maybe some coffee? Take a nice deep breath,” Tubbo said quietly, giving her the most reassuring smile he could muster.

A few minutes later, Sunny was able to reign it in again, but it felt like hours. Sitting there in the chilly air, getting battered by raindrops as he held his daughter’s hands. Unfortunately the rain didn’t set with the sun and as a bolt of lightning shattered the velvety sky, both borrowers jumped in fright.

“Pa…” Sunny tugged on his hand, frowning up at the sky as thunder rumbled loudly overhead. “Can we please stop here? I’m tired… and it’s really muddy and dirty.” 

The smaller borrower kicked at the dirt with her muddy boots, a foul look on her face. Sunny wasn’t a typical child. While most borrowers her age would love to be playing in the dirt and enjoying the outdoors, Sunny would rather stay inside and count her collection of bits and bobs. Tubbo didn’t mind though. It brought him peace of mind to know Sunny was safe at home, waiting for him to bring her back whatever shiny new trinket he’d come across on his latest borrowing trip.

“I know Suns, I know,” he looked around, squinting past the tall grass blades around them.

They were about halfway across a particularly overgrown backyard. The house it belonged to stood tall in the distance. From what Tubbo could see it did have a back porch, standing on sleek, dark wooden beams, with a grate of sorts that wrapped all the way around. It would be the perfect place to make camp for the night.

“This umbrella sucks,” the small girl huffed, motioning to the leaf they were using. “I miss my parasol.” 

Tubbo sighed. Regrettably, they had left it behind and he didn’t have the heart to tell her that it would’ve been useless anyway. Being made of paper, it would’ve been ruined in a few minutes of being out in the rain.

“Well maybe I can find you another one once it’s warmer out. I think the humans like to put them in their fancy… erm, barbeque drinks,” he gave her the most cheerful smile he could muster in the moment.

“Can you make it shiny pa?” Sunny asked with a hopeful smile.

Clearly she was in a much better mood already when it came to being promised new things. Tubbo felt a small weight lift off his shoulders at the sight of Sunny's smile. The weather was gloomy enough as it was, they didn't need either of them bringing the mood down any further.

“I guess I could reinforce it with some aluminium?” Tubbo smiled back at her, but it was a mask to hide his own gloom.

He had left behind… well, just about everything. His workshop, his machines and inventions, his materials. It would take years to rebuild both the workshop and his collection, assuming their new home would even have what he needed. Tubbo didn’t think human engineers were very common, and certainly not living on the same street. Disclaimer; he had no evidence to back that up, it was just a hunch . Honestly they'd be lucky to even find an abandoned borrowers’ hovel, let alone an available home with a proper forge setup.

“Oh…” Sunny visibly deflated, pouting at the ground as they trudged through the squelchy mud.

It felt like a punch to the gut.

“Poppetttttttttttttt… please don't make that face. It can't be helped for now, I'm sorry,’” Tubbo drawled out.

Squinting through the downpour, Tubbo could see they were almost to the human house which this yard belonged to. The structure was impossibly large, its rooftop easily grazing the skies as it towered over the small borrowers. The grass was getting thinner as they got closer to the building. Instead, large, flat stones were embedded into the dirt. Weeds were fighting to break through the cracks, between the tiles and several puddles of water turned the path into some kind of stoney bog.

They were so close to the porch now; all they had to do was cross the stone terrace. The whole thing made Tubbo nervous. Something in the back of his mind told him that if something bad was going to happen on this trip, it should happen sometime around now. There was almost no cover on the stone plateau, save for a few overgrown dandelions and upturned stone bricks, but he would hardly call that cover. If any birds spotted them, it would be so joever. 

“Welp, up we go Suns,” Tubbo hauled himself up onto the stone, his muscles aching and sore from exhaustion.

 “Pa, can we have avocado soup for dinner?” she asked as Tubbo reached down and pulled her up too.

“Sure…” he replied quietly, taking her hand as they began crossing the stone terrace.

In all honesty, he really just wanted to get to sleep. Unfortunately that's just what parenting was, it seemed. Tubbo was a little worried about a fire. Even a small one could draw unwanted attention. The brunet glanced up at the house ahead of them.

He didn’t see any lights on, but what if they somehow smelled the smoke and woke up? He couldn’t just feed Sunny cold soup though. For one, she wouldn’t eat it cold to begin with. Two, she needed to warm up or she might catch a cold! A sick child was the last thing he needed right now. Tubbo really hoped these humans ate avocados at least.

“Hey Princess… um, I just want to warn you. I might not be able to get you avocados anymore…” he said slowly, trying his damndest to avoid eye contact.

Sunny paused midstep, letting go of his hand. She looked up at him with a blank face, but Tubbo could see fire in her eyes.

“Huh.”

“Well it’s just…” Tubbo crouched down in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Avocados aren’t super common I don’t think. When I was your age I’d never even heard of them before.”

“Really..?” Sunny asked with a look of awe and horror on her face, like she couldn’t begin to comprehend life without avocados.

“Yeah,” he stood back up, a sorrowful expression on his face.

“Well- what about- what about coffee?” the younger borrower asked in a desperate voice.

“No, I think coffee is universal–” Tubbo paused, feeling goosebumps prickling down his spine.

Lightning cracked through the air and the flash of light revealed a shadow on the ground. His eyes widened in panic and he let out a gasp. Quickly, he grabbed Sunny and threw himself to the side, hugging her tight. 

A pair of talons crashed down where they had been just seconds ago. A piercing ache jolted down his arm as his shoulder slammed into the stone, taking the brunt of the fall. Tubbo bit his tongue, swallowing back a pained cry. Now that the adrenaline was pumping, he barely noticed the dull throbbing in his shoulder.

“Pa?!” Sunny cried, her eyes wide with terror. 

An owl towered over them, its grey and brown serrated feathers having made it virtually silent. It looked like a demon, with its massive glowing yellow orbs and feathery horns. Tubbo had seen one in action once. It swooped down on a field mouse with terrifying accuracy and snatched it up into the air. The poor mouse never had a chance.

He didn’t answer her as he scrambled to his feet. The owl recovered quickly too, flapping its wings wildly as it swiped at them with its talons again. Tubbo darted to the side, dragging Sunny with him, dropping some of the bags.

“What is that?!” the younger brunette practically squeaked.

“An owl–” Tubbo breathed out, shuddering as the owl's head turned a hundred and thirty degrees, staring directly at them.

Terrifyingly silent, the owl sprung at them again and Tubbo scooped Sunny up with his good arm, the adrenaline pumping through his veins giving him abnormal strength. The brunet vaulted over a slanted stone tile, feeling the wind rush passed them as the owl jabbed its beak into the stone. He ignored both the pain in his injured arm, and Sunny’s snot soaking into his shirt. The poor girl had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as she shook, her face buried in his shirt.

He sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him, jolts of pain travelling up his ankles every time his shoes slammed into the hard stone. They were almost there. Tubbo wouldn’t let either of them get eaten by an overgrown finch right before reaching their new camp.

“Suns we have to be- very quiet,” he heaved out, the cold air making his lungs ache. “O-okay?”

“Mhm,” Sunny whimpered.

Daring a glance over his shoulder, Tubbo realised he didn’t see the owl anymore. A wave of anxiety washed over him and a pit formed in his stomach. It must’ve flown back to wherever it had been perching before it jumped them. They were lucky the first time when the lightning struck and Tubbo managed to catch a glimpse of the shadow. He didn’t think it would happen twice.

He stopped to catch his breath, and squinted up at the dark sky; it wasn’t circling above them. Tubbo turned his gaze to the shrubs and trees around the backyard, scanning the tall towering fences and the nearby houses. He didn’t see the owl anywhere though. 

“Okay Sunny… I- I don’t want to scare you–” he started, setting the younger borrower back down on the stone. 

“Pa… that was already really scary,” Sunny interrupted.

Tubbo took a deep breath, his legs shaking from the adrenaline. The pain was starting to really set in, and the cold and the damp really didn’t help either. Looking over at the porch, he could see how the skirt was made of wooden plants. The planks created a criss-cross pattern, with holes too small for any creature bigger than a small rabbit. The owl wouldn’t be able to get them there. 

He gently took her hand again and began walking across the stone plateau once more.

‘At least the rain had stopped…’

“I know, but that owl might still come back. So we need to get under the porch, quickly and quietly. We’re gonna set up camp there,” he explained, helping her jump over a crack where a dandelion had challenged the tiles and won.

“Finally…” Sunny yawned.

“Sunny. Kid. You are way too nonchalant for someone who just nearly got snatched by an owl,” Tubbo deadpanned.

“I thought you didn't want to scare me,” she stated, a blank expression on her face.

“...” they stared at each other in silence for a moment. 

“Look– you know how fragile my ego is.” deep down though, Tubbo was happy she was so quick to recover.

Sunny rolled her eyes, letting out a scoff. Tubbo went to clutch his chest dramatically in betrayal– but let out a pained yelp, quickly remembering that he had an injured shoulder. The cheeky look on the younger borrower’s face turned to sympathy when she noticed.

“Does your arm hurt Pa?” she asked, gently tugging on it.

“Uh, yeah. So please don’t pull on it,” Tubbo grimaced.

“Sorry,” Sunny mumbled.

Relief washed over him as they finally crossed over to the last stone tile. Tubbo breathed a sigh of reprieve as he shoved aside an overgrown dandelion stem. He didn’t notice the owl was back until he was slammed into the stone. 

His brain buffered, taking a second to catch up before he realised what had happened. Sharp talons pinned him to the ground, digging into his arms and Tubbo let out an agonizing wail. He squirmed, pushing up against the owl’s superior strength. However even with the adrenaline pumping through his veins he was no match for a massive, hungry bird of prey.

“Go! Sunny hide- under the porch–!” he yelled, his voice cracking.

“But–”

“Go!” he struggled, reaching for his sword.

The smaller borrower nodded, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. Tubbo managed to unsheathe his sword, using it to block the owl's beak as it tried to chomp his head off . At the same time, Sunny climbed up and between one of the criss-crosses in the porch skirt. 

Tubbo pointed the tip of the sword at its face the second time the owl lunged for his head. The pin was embedded in the feathery bastard's eye. The owl let out a deafening shriek and started flapping its wings frantically, scratching at Tubbo as it shrieked. The borrower let out yelp and curled up in a ball, covering his head with his hands.

‘Maybe that wasn't a great idea–’

Tubbo froze as he heard a click. Suddenly squares of light flooded the yard. Next, a loud shuttering noise, which was then followed by a resounding slam rang through the air.

“Yeah hang on Phil, it's that stupid owl again,” a deep voice groaned.

Thunk, thunk, thunk, clack, clack, clack–

His eyes widened in horror as he listened to the footsteps of the much scarier predator that was fast approaching. The owl noticed too, turning its stupid creepy head to the giant that now towered over the both of them.

“How many times have I told you to stay out of this yard?! Fucking bird,” the bald human yelled, stomping it's feet so loudly that it shook the ground.

The owl let out a shrill shriek, squawking angrily at the human before it took off again.

Tubbo slowly picked himself up, biting his tongue to quiet his own pained whimpers. His body felt like it was on fire. His shirt was ripped, and the sleeves were covered in messy, dark red stripes; gifts left behind by the owl's talons. 

“Jeez…” the human pulled a light box (Pierre said they were called phones) out of its pocket and held it up to its ear. 

“Sorry I'm back. Yeah the little one that won't leave the crows alone.”

The human didn't see him yet, and Tubbo didn't want to change that. Quietly, slowly, he pulled himself up onto the trim of the porch and crawled through one of the many gaps in the wood. He managed to drag himself behind one of the wooden posts that framed the porch before he collapsed in the dirt, panting.

“I mean, maybe? I didn't see one. It might've just been a rat.”

Tubbo heard some shuffling behind him and awkwardly sat up, leaning against the post for support. He pulled his heavy bag and laid it down in the dirt, still working on catching his breath. He just needed a minute to recover.

“Hello?” 

The brunet slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the startled noise that tried to claw its way up his throat. 

“Is anyone or anything down here?”

Tubbo knew there was absolutely no way the bald human could see him. Even laying down, it couldn’t see him from that angle, in the dark no less. Well- unless it could see through walls, which he severely doubted. However, the urge to get up and take off running again was strong. 

“Yeah, I think it was just a squirrel or something,” the human got back up, dusted itself off and went back inside.

“K, I have to put the kids back to bed now. I think the owl woke them up again”

Tubbo still felt his heart hammering against his chest. The ridiculous amount of close encounters he and Sunny had experienced today gave him enough heart attacks to last a month thank you very much. He waited until it stopped raining sawdust and the footsteps above him faded away to move again. 

Once he was absolutely sure the human wasn’t listening, Tubbo grabbed his hiker’s bag and got back up again, (much to his body’s dismay).

“Sunny?” he called out, stumbling over the uneven terrain. “Poultry Princess? Where are you?” 

“Pa?!” his eyes darted to the source of the sound.

Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. Sunny was fine, she was alive in one piece. The little borrower had peeked her head out of her hiding spot; behind another wooden support. Tubbo rushed over to her, nearly tripping in the process, and lifted her up into a tight hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay…” he whispered, setting Sunny back down on the ground when she started squirming.

The younger borrower grumbled, crossing her arms. She was giving him the look.

“...What?” he asked, dumbfounded. “Am I not allowed to hug you or–?”

“Don’t do that again Pa!” she cried, pounding her little fists on his chest lightly. “I thought- I thought you were gonna–...” her exclamations died down into sobs.

一

Once Sunny had calmed down, Tubbo had gotten a small fire set up. Though their clothes hadn’t dried yet, the warmth from the fire was welcome, and leftover avocado soup had never tasted so good. Luckily, the most essential items had been packed in their backpacks, and not in the bags they’d left behind while fleeing the owl attack. Tubbo didn’t think going back out there to rescue them was in his best interest at the moment. He’d just finished bandaging his new wounds after all, he wasn’t exactly keen on opening them back up already.

“Pa, can you sing me a lullaby?” Sunny asked as she helped her dad unravel their sleeping mat.

“I- well, I can try. Are you ready for bed then?” he pulled a blanket out of his bag and laid it down on the sleeping mats.

“I was ready for bed hours ago,” the younger borrower sassed as she flopped down on the mat.

“Fair enough,” Tubbo put the fire out before laying down next to her, pulling the other end of the blanket over them, like a blanket taco.

“Argh,” he cleared his throat. “My voice is a bit scratchy right now, so bear with me.”

“That's okay.”

“Ahem. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey… You’ll never know dear… how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

“Pa…”

“Yeah?”

Sunny turned to face him.

“Is that about me?” 

“Um, I guess you could interpret it that way, yeah,” he gave her an awkward smile.

“Okay…” she turned her back to him. “I’m glad the owl didn’t eat you.”

“Yeah, I am too, no more talking though. Sleep time,” he yawned out, pulling her into a warm hug.

“Night Pa.”

“Night Suns…”

[startanewdream]

Number 8 and hinny

In the dark kiss. (Under the cut for reasons, just to be safe)

Harry wasn't sure what he had expected, but full darkness claimed his surroundings as soon as he closed the door behind him. Maybe he should have paid attention before the lights were off because as he took another step in, he managed to stumble upon something metallic that rolled away from him.

Ginny giggled; he turned towards the sound, then promptly hit a shelf with his head.

"Here," she said helpfully, and he felt her hands on his arm, guiding him to her. "So—is the broom closet all you imagined?"

Harry shrugged, then remember she couldn't see him in the darkness. "I didn't think it would be like this," he admitted. The idea had sounded nice and daring, and he hadn't hesitated when Ginny had led him through the halls in search of a broom closet, but now he was remembering fondly that the grounds were warm and sunny, and he enjoyed the sunlight reflecting on her hair.

"Filch puts a door sweep to avoid rats," she explained, then snorted when he jumped. "There won't be any rats, that's why is so dark, remember?"

His face burned; Harry was glad that Ginny couldn't see it. It wasn't like he was afraid of rats, but there was something eerily in being in that small room, unable to see anything no matter how much he squinted his eyes; he was totally blind, unprotected. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

"Hey," Ginny called him, taking a step closer to him and placing his arms around her waist. "I'm here," she whispered, and it was easy to focus on her more than on the irrational fear that the walls were closing in.

He was holding Ginny, his girlfriend, and she was real. Her floral shampoo scent was real, far stronger than any citrus smell from the cleaning products; he inhaled her perfume, letting it comfort him. The warmth from her body was real, and he searched for that gap in her shirt that he adored so much, feeling her skin, tracing the goosebumps that arose under his touch.

And her mouth was real as she moved closer, and her lips brushed his neck, sucking the skin gently.

A gasp escaped his lips, the sound louder in the dark; he ought to break away, embarrassed, but Harry found out that as with many other things, it was easy to hide any self-consciousness and just enjoy Ginny's touch. Perhaps she felt the same, for as he leaned in, his hand holding her up to support her, he felt her fingers climbing under his shirt, her nails tracing his chest, leaving a burning path.

Even the sound of his heartbeat seemed to echo in that broom closet.

And then he pulled her closer, his lips searching for hers. He'd shared countless kisses by now, but there was something about being in the darkness with Ginny that Harry hadn't considered before; maybe the whole world had disappeared and it was just the two of them now, two bodies and souls together in that emptiness, but as long as he were with her, he was fine with it.

Her hand was over his heart now, and Harry knew she could feel how quick it was; his fingers traced her curves, going further than he had gone under the sunlight on the grounds, but as with everything, the darkness seemed to boost his boldness. Her skin was very smooth, so inviting. Ginny gasped when he touched her bra, and for a moment, Harry was almost brought back to reality; then Ginny pressed her lips against his once again, her tongue moving a bit more desperately, her hand burying itself in his hair to mess it, and that was all the encouragement that Harry needed; his fingers traced the fabric of her bra, then moved up, his heart racing even faster—

And then there was a light, blinding light, and where Harry was pulled back from that starless night to a burst of sunshine he didn't welcome for once.

"What—" He called, but he wasn't the only one to say something (or to curse lowly, in Ginny's case); when he could distinguish anything, he saw that Hermione was staring at them, mouth opened, and then he realised that he was still close to Ginny, her shirt lifted enough to show her ribs, and his hand was over her—

They jumped apart.

"I—sorry, Hermione," said Ginny, her voice an octave louder than usual as she fixed her clothes. "We were just sightseeing."

"Sightseeing," replied Hermione slow and disbelievingly.

"Yes, well." Ginny left the broom closet, her face now a mask of innocence even though her cheeks were still pink. "Harry had never been inside a broom closet before."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, recovering himself; he tried to comb his hair, as pointless as it always was. "I couldn't graduate from Hogwarts without the broom closet experience."

Hermione stared at them before shaking her head, apparently deciding they were hopeless. "Go on—you should be studying for your OWLs, Ginny—ah, don't look me like that. You should be glad it wasn't Ron that interrupted your... sightseeing."

Ginny looked mutinous, but Harry, face deep red, just pulled her down the hall, away from Hermione's sight.

"She would enjoy a few minutes with Ron in a broom closet," Ginny mumbled, annoyed.

Harry, who didn't want to imagine Ron and Hermione in the same conditions he had been with Ginny, just shrugged. "Sightseeing?" He asked instead, hoping to distract her. "I couldn't see one foot in front of me and you said we were sightseeing?"

Her face broke into a mischievous smile. "I didn't say you were seeing with your eyes," she teased, taking his hand and placing a kiss on his knuckles that sent a jolt down his body.

"Oh."

"Wanna keep seeing things? There is a broom closet in the floor above.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I don't wanna get caught," he noted, placing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"That's what Locking Spells are for." She grinned. "And since they are probably going to be on my exams, you would even be helping me study."

His heart raced. "All for your education," he said, accepting her pull to the stairs.