#suspicious sheep

[witheredbloom]

the way liam spoke about the sheep i was so sure they'd be zombie sheep or man eating sheep of some kind i swear.

[spindleanddye]

I scoured an Icelandic sheep fleece this evening! It looks like a human hair golem exploded on my dining room table

[sskk-manifesto]

\\

[dragon-dress-128]

POV: You’re playing Wii Play, Charge!

[munchymunchkin]

[disgruntledexplainer]

honestly, the greatest threat to any religion is not the forces that actively seek to destroy it, but rather those that seek to twist it into a weapon to turn on their enemies, or a means of social control. it is much easier to fight an enemy that declares itself an enemy, but one that disguises itself as an ally, or even as your champion, can deceive you into willingly betraying all that your faith stands for, turning it into a farce of the worst kind.

Islam is used for oppression in Islamic countries, Christianity is used for oppression in Western countries, atheism is used for oppression in China, Shinto is used for oppression in Japan, Native religions are used for oppression in our tribes, etc, etc. The point isn't that any or all religion is inherently evil or violent, just that cruel and selfish people seeking power will use anything they can to control others.

[littleguypumpkinsheep]

Of course I’m going into it with a lot of prior knowledge but. Just. I really really don’t like that you can almost immediately tell there’s something off about Dutch. The way he’s constantly but subtly a little mean and manipulative to Arthur. The fact that you can tell there’s something weird about him before you can get that idea from Micah. It’s just. I don’t know. I don’t know anyway anyway. It fills me with immense sadness

[alteredphoenix]

Since I've been asked before if I had considered doing art based off my Berseria/Luminaria fics (or some scenes in them), and I would, I've been considering taking a crack at doing a comic - just to see how it would go.

I'd go with a premise that takes place after Celia's ep2, where two children of Lazui (I like to think of them as being actual howlines connected to Lazui, rather than the "angels/somewhat vaguely humanoid/higher beings of existence in animal guise" trope I like to inject my Lumi fics with) observe Michelle and, confused at her reaction, ask themselves "what kind of wolf doesn't want to hunt/what kind of wolf doesn't enjoy the thrill of the hunt", which would lead into an exploration of mercy, death, predator/prey dynamics and their role on the ecosystem (gradually on the downswing as it is in canon), and how growing up in Amr Qhagan (sheep country/Tarulhan's domain) has shaped Michelle's upbringing and morality even as it clashes with her displays of pragmatism.

Just a little something to get experimental with (as the idea itself isn't based off a written fic at this time).

[scap34]

bottom! sub! virgin! Toji x clan leader! top! sadistic! male reader

Turning your hired gun into your partner <3

warning: cussing, dirty talk, degradation, mild manipulation, loss of virginity, sex

The Zenin elders are stupid. You think idly as you look down. 

Dumb fucks that obviously didn’t notice a gem. You think as you thrust into Toji’s tight hole roughly. The man under you gasped, gritting his teeth, his face scrunched into a twisted expression of pain and pleasure. 

He squirmed away from you, unconsciously. You grabbed his bruised ankle and pulled him closer, a strangled moan left his throat, when your cock fully entered him. 

He clenched the sheets under him, with a white knuckle grip. The corner of his eyes reddened and shiny with tears. His eyes refused to meet your gaze as you leaned down, smirking. 

“Too much? Should I stop?” As expected he shook his head, too stubborn to quit halfway. His body trembled under you.

You leaned back grinning. Your hips rocking into his ass, as you took in every soft whimper and moan that left Toji’s mouth. 

It took all your effort not to hold him down and fuck into his tight virgin hole roughly, leaving your claim on him. To watch him fall apart under you, the big man, so small under you. 

Instead you steeled your will. You wouldn’t let this be a one time thing. From the minute you saw Toji. You need him. Under you, sobbing as you fucked him senseless. 

You knew about Toji. Of course you did. Everyone did, even your clan did. The black sheep of the Zenin family, Toji, was a taboo. 

Fucking stupid idiots. 

When you saw him first, he was trying to steal from you. The darkness had barely let you see the man. But when he stepped into the moonlight you could immediately tell. So you did nothing and watched as he snuck out without a single person noticing. 

After he left you pulled up your phone and placed a hit on a man. 

The next day he walked in through the front door instead of the window. More accurately he burst into your room, and tossed a head at your foot. 

Unseeing eyes met your own. It was the man you placed the hit on. A small-time sorcerer that was looking to go big in the wrong places. You looked up at him amused, crushing the head under your foot. Toji glared at you. 

“Pay up.” He said curtly, tossing the scrolls he stole back to you. You caught them and smiled at him. 

“I have a job for you. Sit down.” You said smirking. He gave you a suspicious glare, but you could see his weary shoulders, the grease in his hair, and the desperation in his eyes. Young and desperate. A perfect combination. “It pays a lot.” 

He sat down. 

It was absurdly easy to keep him close to you. A bodyguard post you said to him. He didn’t question it. No one in your clan questioned it. No one would. Other than your brother, you were the strongest. Being a clan leader had its benefits.

It was even easier to seduce him. A few gentle touches, soft glances and forgotten towels, and he was wrapped around your finger. All but crawling into your lap when you called pretty and selling his body to you with false reluctance. 

You hadn’t had the heart to tell him how his eyes betrayed his words. When he looked at you with such trust craving validation, all you wanted to do was to fuck him until you were all he could think about. 

So here you were, pinning the poor man to the bed, taking his virginity. You pulled your cock halfway out and thrust it into his hole. Toji bit his lip and whimpered, muscular thigh flexing like he wanted to break free. But he wouldn’t, they stayed in place, calves hooked on your shoulder exposing his pretty pink hole.

You leaned down, hovering over him. Kissing his tits, you licked his nipple. He arched into your mouth, moaning. His useless cock twitched against his stomach. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now.” You muttered against his chest, pulling out your cock and slamming it into his hole before he could respond. 

He let out a strangled moan, pretty face scrunched up as he let out muffled sobs. You could take it slower, let him adjust before you fucked him, but you wouldn’t.

It wouldn’t change the way his cock hardened, leaking pre-cum against his stomach. You rolled your hips, watching him twitch and clutch down on your cock with a moan. Large hands gripping your sheets tightly as he whined, so sweetly.

Face flushed, with moans slipping from swollen pink lips, he was a sight. Your sight. Yours to toy with, yours to protect, and yours to fuck. 

His body was so perfectly slutty despite being a virgin. his greedy hole sucking you in, begging for you. He was meant for you, to be yours. And now he is all yours now. All for a measly 50,000 yen. What a steal.

…

Life, it turned out, was hard without skills other than fighting. He’d gotten kicked out of 4 jobs within a week of leaving the clan. Living on the streets left him feeling more exhausted and dirty. 

If he couldn’t find a job outside jujustu, he’d find one within it. He’d be a killer, a hired gun. 

The offer came from a man who claimed to be a handler with promises of money if he joined. He accepted.

Money, was the fucking leading cause of all things shitty. He decided he needed a fuck ton of it. 

His first job was supposed to be simple: sneak into the Gojo clan and steal a scroll. 

But as it was, nothing would ever work out for him. A man was in the room.  A strong sorcerer too. Toji’s body was tense, expecting an attack at any minute as he took the scroll. 

None came. Instead, the man watched him leave. Curious. He didn’t care. 

His phone rang a few minutes from the meeting spot, in the morning. It was the handler, there was a hit placed on the man who asked him to steal the scrolls. 100,000 yen to kill him and return the scrolls. 

He’d known exactly who’d placed that hit. In the cold morning light, he strolled towards the man and cut off his head and delivered it to you. 

You were crazy or bored. He decided when you offered him a job. The rumors about him weren’t pleasant. He knew that. But here you were, smiling at him with that cunning light in your eyes. You, a sorcerer, that was strong enough to probably kill him. 

He hesitated for a second and thought about his life if he left. He’d probably go to the handler and take more jobs. Lose all the money with his shitty luck and end up living in shitty apartments eating cheap noodles. 

“It pays a lot.” You continued.

He sat down. 

…

He didn’t even realize when he got so invested in you. 

You were beautiful. It wasn’t just your face, your body was slender compared to him. Soft hands, and lean fingers that seemed to have never touched a weapon. Even the way you dressed was elegant, traditional kimonos and long sleeved shirts. 

He had fallen for you. You, the Gojo heir, a man he should hate. And yet when you brushed your long hair out the way looking frustrated he could do nothing but pull out a clip he brought with his own money and clip it back. 

The smile you gave him, washed away all the coldness he’d felt since his birth. Like all the cold words, sneers and abuse he’d received was gone, healed by a single glance from you. You were a spring waterfall, cold and bottomless, ethereal in the light, beckoning him to you.  

You, and your stupid mind games were all he wanted. So when you gave him a slutry smile and called him pretty, he immediately gave in, offering his body to you for 50,000 yen. He was worth less than that. He thought, distantly, as your hands settled in his hips. But he could never afford you. 

You were priceless and he needed you. So he played along. You were stupid to think he was the prize when he clearly won you.

[beatlepaul4ever]

Just feast your eyes on John’s plump rear.

You’re welcome.

The Beatles

[deebris]

Weight of Care

Simon Riley x little sister Reader (platonic!)

Synopsis: Simon, your older brother, has been your guardian since you were a baby. Amid the collapse of your family, he made the courageous choice to take you out of the house, raising you as if you were his own. However, despite being happy, your relationship is complicated. While you see Simon as a paternal figure, he struggles with the pain of being mistaken for one. His heart tightens every time you call him "daddy," and he thought you had managed to move past that—until you do it again one night.

Warnings: Just a little angst with a happy ending; reader is 6 years old.

Word count: 1.2k

“Did you brush your teeth?” Simon asked upon hearing your muffled laughter. He opened the bedroom door, its walls now marked by your numerous drawings. Toys scattered across the floor shifted as he entered, and with the first step he took inside, something cracked underfoot, breaking.

“How many times have I told you that you need to put your toys away after playing?” he said firmly, shooting you a stern look. Simon hated messiness, but with you around, it seemed impossible to keep everything in order.

“I was going to put them away,” you murmured, embarrassed by the scolding. But your guilty expression quickly turned into a tearful grimace as your eyes fell your sheep, now shattered on the floor. “You broke it!” Your childish scream echoed through the room, and you hurried to gather the pieces with trembling hands.

“If you had put it away, this wouldn’t have happened,” he accused you, hoping it would serve as a lesson. Maybe then you would finally start to be more responsible with your things. And even knowing he was right, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at seeing your broken sheep.

Watching you wipe your tears with the sleeve of the pajamas and hearing sniffles made his heart soften. It was frustrating how he simply couldn’t stay mad at you. The last thing Simon wanted was for you to become a spoiled child, but in that moment, it was hard to maintain his sternness.

He already felt guilty for not being able to take care of you completely due to work, and knowing that Mrs. Trelawney, your babysitter, was much more lenient than he was only made everything harder. Every time Simon came home, you seemed more stubborn and whiny.  

“Come on, it’s time to sleep.” He lifted you by your armpits and placed you in bed, pulling up the yellow blanket that you loved so much. You had already taken a bath and were wearing clean lilac pajamas covered with stars. “I’ll buy you another one, you don’t need to cry.”  

“But it’s not the same,” you murmured as he collected the toy pieces from your hand, placing them on the dresser to throw away tomorrow. Some parts were sharp, so he checked your delicate hands, worried about possible cuts.  

“It’s the same,” he insisted, sighing tiredly as he tucked your feet under the blanket. Surprisingly, you didn’t argue, remaining strangely silent. “What’s wrong?”  

“Sorry,” you whispered, feeling bad for upsetting him. “I promise I’ll put it away.”

Your promise made him cast a quick glance at the bedroom floor, where pink, blue, and all other colored toys were scattered. Even your dolls were out of place, thrown in various corners. He still felt frustrated because you always said you would tidy up and never did, but this time it seemed different, so he decided to put a bit of faith in your word.  

“Tomorrow. Now you need to sleep.” He stood up to leave, but suddenly remembered something:  

“Teeth.” Simon said, and you blew near his face, letting him feel the freshness of mint on your breath. “Show me your tongue.” He spoke in a suspicious tone, knowing that you sometimes didn’t clean your mouth well. “Good.” He praised, satisfied to see you sticking your tongue out, then making a face, which made him laugh inside.  

He turned off the bedside lamp, watching you settle into the pillow, and began to move toward the door. But hearing your naive voice, he stopped in his tracks, his heart tightening:  

“Daddy, can I go to the museum with my class tomorrow?”  

“What?” Simon asked, stunned, still turned away from you, his hand frozen on the doorknob. Surprise echoed in his voice, mixed with a thread of worry. He slowly turned around, trying to decipher the expectation in your gaze.  

It had been so long since you last called him that. Simon thought he had finally managed to correct you after so many attempts, but he realized that wasn’t working. He had lost count of how many times he repeated that he was just your older brother, but deep down, he knew he was guilty. In trying to erase any trace of your father in your life, he had created a space where that confusion was natural. It was understandable that you saw him this way.  

“Miss Sarah is taking us to the museum tomorrow. Can I go?” You repeated the question, oblivious to the tension in his shoulders.  

“Why didn’t you ask earlier?” Simon swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure.  

“I forgot,” you explained, sitting up in bed to grab a piece of paper from your backpack. It was a permission slip for guardians to sign, allowing the trip. “Please?” You pouted, holding the paper in one hand and one of your decorated pencils in the other, as if that could increase your chances.  

“To the museum?” He asked, his voice tinged with melancholy. Simon sat on the edge of the bed, already starting to sign his name on the line, but his mind wandered to a distant place, filled with his conflicting memories and feelings.  

The situation between you two was complicated. You were the only family Simon had left, a little girl. He still remembers when he found out that his mother was pregnant and, even more, the first time he saw you. He had been away from home for several years, and coming back always felt torturous. But the idea of having something so small and innocent waiting for him was what truly saved him. 

Simon took you from home long before your parents died, unable to bear the thought of you growing up in that environment. After his brother died, he projected all the fears and regrets an older brother could carry onto you. It was as if you were his only way to redeem himself for Tommy. You were so young that you barely remembered the rest of the family; for you, the world revolved around Simon.  

He didn’t even realize he was wandering until he felt you gently pull the paper from his hands. Your big eyes locked onto his for a moment, filled with concern, until you broke eye contact, standing to put the paper away and lie back down, pulling the blanket over yourself.  

“Are you okay?” You asked, noticing he was still standing there, lost in thought. The nervousness in your voice snapped Simon back to reality, bringing him to the stillness of the room, where silence hung between you.  

Simon thought of several things to say, like, “You know I’m your brother, right?” or “We’ve talked about this,” but it felt like a never-ending cycle. It was as if nothing could stop you from continuing to call him that. He didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. He knew that, in practice, he played the role of a father in your life, something he chose for himself. Even so, every time he heard, a strange sensation coursed through his body.  

“Good night.” He simply said in his deep, familiar voice, but now, something different was in the air. For the first time, he didn’t try to correct or resist, finally allowing himself to accept the way you called him ‘daddy.’  

You hesitated for a moment, sensing something strange about him before responding softly: “Good night, Si.” And a faint smile formed on his lips, something rare, as if, at last, something had clicked into place.

Taglist: @aenishas

[rellsingsovern]

you’ve been teaching a tiefling girl alongside a half orc boy for three years. he comes in on the first day singing under his breath and afraid to rage. she comes in on the second day with a bass guitar and a spitfire attitude.

she doesn’t trust you. you’re fond of her immediately.

you go through that year and the next in the same kind of pattern. she continues to talk about her rage and her yearning for justice and her ‘german shepard mode’ she assumes for her friends. she hires her detective friend to follow you around, says you’re suspicious and weird, but she still doesn’t go to her actual class.

he stays quiet and unassuming but he’s got enough natural talent that it only irks you a little that he doesn’t use his rage like you know he could. then he comes back junior year and asks to multiclass into artificer.

you refuse. he takes the classes anyway, and his grade drops to a C.

you would care more if the tiefling girl didn’t come to you asking about becoming a paladin of the war god’s wife, the war god who your family has pulled power from for generations, the war god who would soon be no more. it’s too easy to steer her away from doubt and into fire.

you wouldn’t need the weak frost genasi girl who refused the call. you wouldn’t need the soft highcourt boy who followed you like a sheep. here was one who understood how to use rage in all the ways the half orc never was able to.

you teach her to smite. she writes your name on the ritual scroll alongside the warlock teacher’s. you’re only a little pissed about it. you have everything you need.

you’re standing over her, a giant over an ant, the fire of your domain all around. the half orc grabs you by the neck and forces you away, screaming that you’re a horrible teacher. you have only the slightest second to bask in the satisfaction of crushing him in your hands when the spitfire tiefling gets up and dashes away on her skateboard.

you strike her so hard her back explodes with red diamonds. she turns to look at you, and blinding daylight bursts out of her mouth when she says,

you don’t know her like I do

then she dives into the lava under the floorboards and lights two of your boyfriend’s clones on fire.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 LOST IN THE DARK (THEN I FOUND YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: with a blizzard rocking yokohama, you find yourself seeking refuge in nakahara chuuya's apartment because, somehow, his building is the only one that has working generators... yet you find yourself becoming a bit suspicious (and concerned) when you realize the one person you expected to be there isn't. so you decide to go looking for him yourself, forcing chuuya to come along, and you end up maybe biting off more than you could chew.

wordcount: 8.2k; sfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, i don't think any other warnings necessary but lmk if i've missed any

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ughhhhhhh i was not going to post today BUT 1) i remembered that it was ghostienon's birthday yesterday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!) and 2) sophie said she was sad so i forced myself out of bed to edit and format. i hope you guys enjoy the background to how reader and dazai started living with each other ;) i love being able to write them as stupid teens HAHAH if u guys can't tell. we also get some hints as to mori's opinion on her and dazai's growing relatioship in this installment, though that will have its own dedicated fic <.<

“God, it’s fucking cold.” Chuuya shivers, tucked beneath a blanket in his apartment, scowling out the tall windows looking over the city. “When will this storm end? I swear it's never ending."

A blizzard has been tearing through the entire Kanagawa prefecture the past two days, and right now, Yokohama is taking the full force of it, has been since three am. The harsh winds knocked the power out hours ago, and none of the building’s generators are working. The easternmost building, the one where you live, was the first to go, so you dragged yourself all the way across to the westernmost building to force your way into Chuuya’s apartment, the only building that’s power was still holding strong by the time you made your decision.

Evidently, you were not the only one that had that idea. Ozaki Kouyou sits primly in a bundle of furs as she reads through mission reports from her subordinates, Hirotsu Ryuro flips through files on an upcoming mission for the Black Lizards, and the Colonel is berating one of his subordinates over a walkie-talkie in the corner of the room. You and Chuuya are huddled on the couch with each other, trying to keep each other warm as you wait for the worst of this to pass.

“Says you,” you say bitterly, burrowed in three of his blankets as you glare at him. “You’re like a furnace, I think I’m going to freeze to death.”

The power in his building had gone out an hour ago, and being on one of the upper floors, his apartment became chilly quickly. Chuuya scowls at you and his hand darts out to press against the back of your neck. You shriek and give him an accusing look at the feeling of his icy fingers against your bare skin, slapping his hand away hard. He snorts, looking thoroughly smug at his actions and you have half a mind to beat him to death with a pillow.

“Better than being out on the streets, hm, boy?” Kouyou says idly, glancing up from her papers, raising her eyebrows.

You watch as Chuuya’s gaze flickers down to the ground, a guilty expression crossing his face. You don’t know much about what happened last year that led to Chuuya joining the Port Mafia—you do know that evidently he’d been monikered ‘King of the Sheep,’ a small organization of teenagers that had stupidly taken to trying to siphon off territory from the Mafia, and he’d been exiled by his kingdom of orphans courtesy of Dazai. You think maybe he’s probably wondering if they’re still out there, trying to wait out this storm in whatever back alleys they can find.

You nudge your shoulder against his, trying to draw him out of his thoughts, and he gives you a tight smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes.

At least you guys don’t have to worry about any attacks until the storm passes. 

The Dragon’s Head Conflict has been raging for a month now, you came back to Yokohama at the start of it and it's only continued to escalate with each passing day. There are so many foreign organizations trying to get footholds in Yokohama for the money that started this conflict, the entire city has become a bloody battlefield. You’ve hardly slept the past few weeks trying to work with Mori to figure out a game plan for handling Strain, the biggest threat of this conflict by far, but it’s hard when the Mafia’s warehouses and ports are getting assaulted day after day. 

Chuuya’s been taking on the brunt of the attacks, single-handedly pushing them back, but you know he’s getting tired. You see the exhaustion on his face and the bags beneath his eyes—the storm, as awful as it is, is bringing him a break that he very much needs. And Dazai-

“Dazai.”

You sit up straight, blankets tumbling off of you as your eyes widen. Instantly, you can feel all of the eyes in this room on you.

“What about that bastard?” Chuuya asks irritably.

“Where is he?” you demand. You haven’t seen him since the storm started, don’t know where he is; you don’t even know what building he lives in. You figured that he would have wormed his way into Chuuya’s apartment too when he realized his building lasted the longest with power, but you didn’t even think anything of it until now just because of how cold you were. “Where does he even live, actually?”

A month you’ve been in Yokohama and you’ve never been to Dazai’s apartment. You spend a lot of time with Chuuya up in his, and Dazai usually pops in too whenever you’re there; they come up to yours once in a blue moon. But you’ve never been to his.

“Out in some shipping container in the yards in southern Naka-ku,” Hirotsu answers your question and you turn to look at him, appalled.

“What?” you ask bluntly. “A shipping container?”

“The Boss offered him a nice apartment in the central building,” Kouyou hums. “He refused many times.”

“I wouldn’t want to live in the same building as Mori either,” you say snippily. “He’s out there now? In this storm?”

Kouyou lifts her shoulders in an elegant shrug, raising her eyebrows as she finally looks up at you, there’s something chilly in her eyes that you don’t like as she studies you. Chuuya doesn’t meet your eyes when you give him a pressing look.

“Those containers aren’t insulated,” you continue. “He’ll freeze to death.”

Kouyou scoffs. “That boy won’t be killed by something as mundane as the cold,” she says dismissively. “He will be fine.”

You give her a dismayed look. You’re not too close with Dazai, you’ve only known him for a month, and in that time, you haven’t really had the opportunity to spend much time with him besides the occasional invasion of Chuuya’s apartment. The two of you always seem to have missions scheduled at opposite times of each other—whenever you’re free, he’s gone and whenever you’re gone, he’s free. Sometimes, you think Mori does it on purpose, but you don’t know why.

“It’s blizzarding out there,” you argue. “He’s stick and bones in an uninsulated piece of metal that’s probably buried in snow. We can’t just leave him out there.”

“Leave him be,” Kouyou says sharply, and you’re almost taken aback by her tone, giving her a cool look. “Don’t involve yourself with that boy.”

You draw back at the sternness—you and Kouyou have been on good terms, so you don’t really know where this is coming from, and it pisses you off a bit, but that might just be because you’re cold and already irritable.

“Excuse me?” you gape, looking between her and Chuuya, noticing how Chuuya immediately averts his gaze from you. “Chuuya?” 

“You heard me, girl,” Kouyou tells you firmly. “Keep away from him.”

“Why?” You’re half convinced you’re not hearing her correctly because what does that even mean. Your voice rises as you become more incensed. “What do you even mean? Chuuya hangs with him all the time-”

“Mori has forced the two of them into a partnership,” Kouyou interrupts. “Chuuya has no choice in the matter. You-”

You bristle, about to rise to your feet, but before you can say anything, Hirotsu speaks up: “Kouyou-san is right, hime. The Boss has that boy on a tight leash for a reason, he does not like anything trying to interfere with it. Even you. Especially you.”

Chuuya gives you a look from the corner of his eye. “The Boss is weird about him,” he agrees quietly, but he does seem distinctly uncomfortable, like a part of him wants to go out searching for Dazai. “You’ve had to have noticed.”

Of course, you have. It’s impossible to miss the way Mori hangs over him. He has Dazai shadow him everywhere he goes, never far out of sight. He’s harsher with Dazai than he was even with you back when he first took you in years ago, has impossibly high expectations and refuses to accept failure from him. You think maybe it’s part of the reason why he’s always so careful to ensure that you’re on missions at opposite times—Dazai has shown interest in you since your arrival in Yokohama, becoming giddy like a kid whenever he runs into you, and Mori already warned you not to distract him.

You rise to your feet, shaking your head. “I’m not leaving him out there to freeze.”

“Girl,” Kouyou says, voice tight, finally looking up from her reports again to give you a stern look. “I won’t say it again-”

��Or what?” you ask coolly. “What is he going to do to me? I’ve known Mori longer than any of you. I know what he’ll do if he doesn’t like what I’m doing, it’s not worth leaving Dazai out there alone, especially in this weather.”

You toss off the blankets and storm over to where you’d hung your jacket up, looking back at Chuuya over your shoulder. “Are you coming?” you ask, annoyed. 

Chuuya glances between you and Kouyou nervously before sighing and tossing his own blankets off. “Whatever. You’re bringing him to your apartment. I don’t want his shitty ass here.”

“Whatever.”

“I don’t know why the fuck I agreed to this,” Chuuya spits out complaints as the two of you trudge off the road through knee deep snow to the slope leading down to the shipping yards. “You’re insane. Dazai would not do this for you.”

“I wouldn’t be stupid enough to be in this situation,” you scowl, tossing Chuuya a dirty look before your eyes trail across the shipping yard. “Do you know which container is his? They all look the same.”

“That red one out there, I think,” Chuuya says, pointing out across the shipping yard to one of the few containers not falling apart. You grimace, it’s all the way out in the center of the yard in the deepest parts of the snow. Chuuya sees your displeasure and rolls his eyes. “Come here.”

You yelp when he grabs your arm and yanks you closer to him. The Tainted Sorrow is an ability you’ve become well acquainted with over the past few weeks, but it’s still jarring to feel it wash over you so suddenly. Chuuya gives you a sharp smile when he feels your grip on his arm tighten as he uses his ability to launch the two of you in the air; your stomach lurches at the sudden feeling of weightlessness that spreads through you.

It takes a total of maybe five seconds for him to get the two of you in front of Dazai’s supposed shipping container, and you shiver when the two of you land in the knee deep snow, casting him a dirty look when he keeps himself floating right above it.

“Asshole,” you mutter, ignoring his smug look as you trudge forward to the door of the shipping container. “Dazai! Dazai, are you in there?”

Your voice strains as you shout over the howling wind, grimacing and blinking rapidly at the snow pelting your face. You get no response from inside the container and you give Chuuya a scowl.

“Are you sure this is the right container?” you demand as your fingers enclose around the bitterly cold metal handle.

Chuuya shrugs. “I’m pretty sure.”

“I can’t stand you,” you snap as you try and fail to yank open the container, the deep snow preventing it from budging even an inch.

“Here, move,” Chuuya says, coming to stand next to you, finally dropping down into the snow as he nudges you out of the way to use his ability to pull open the heavy, jammed door.

You squint as you look into the dark container—it’s mostly empty and you’re about to turn on Chuuya for having the wrong one before you notice a chair and a desk in the far back corner. The snow spills into the container as soon as Chuuya gets the door open and you yelp as you slide in, nearly slipping to the floor. 

Chuuya snorts. 

You glare at him, but you have more pressing matters to attend to.

“Dazai,” you call again, frowning when you don’t see him in the container, wondering if you came all the way out here for nothing. Chuuya would kill you. “Do you see him?”

“I’m gonna kill you if we came all the way out here for nothing,” Chuuya says, voicing your thoughts. You wince as he jumps down to stand next to you. “Maybe he went over to those other friends of his? That low ranking guy?”

Maybe, you think, taking a few steps further into the container, eyes straining in the dark to try to make sure he’s not there before facing Chuuya’s wrath and leaving. Just as you’re about to give up, you spot a lump covered by a thin blanket in the corner of the container and you frown. You think at first it’s a pile of dirty clothes until you draw a bit closer and see that it’s moving, a slow and steady rise and fall that could only be Dazai huddled beneath it.

“Dazai?” you repeat again, making your way over to the corner of the container and kneeling next to the lump. Chuuya trails a few steps behind you slowly, pausing when you reach out to snatch the blanket off of the lump. “Jesus, Dazai…”

He’s sleeping beneath the blanket—sleeping or just straight up unconscious, you’re not sure. He looks small curled into a ball in the corner of the container, his skin and lips are paler than usual, breath concerningly slow. You reach out to press your hand against his cheek, feeling how cold and clammy his skin is.

“And you wanted to leave him out here,” you hiss at Chuuya, shooting him an accusing look. To his credit, he does look guilty as he looks down at Dazai, brows twisted and lips curled down, an unreadable look in his bicolored eyes. “Help me get him up.”

Dazai is lighter than you expected—he’s tall and gangly but there’s so little meat to his bones that you can almost lift him up on your own but it’s just awkward because of his height. Chuuya grabs his feet, you grab under his arms; his body is limp, like you’re carrying a corpse and not a living, breathing human being.

“Chuuya, hold on, I’m gonna put him down,” you say before the two of you get to the entrance of his shipping container.

Chuuya grunts as the two of you lower him to the ground, giving you a questioning look. You ignore it, pulling off your thick fur coat and wrapping it around Dazai, trying to warm him up even just a little because you fear that if you bring him out in his thin button-up and slacks, he’s just going to get even more sick. 

“You’re gonna freeze,” Chuuya says with a sigh, shaking his head. He pulls off his own jacket and tosses it at you. “I run hot anyway. Take it.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly, shrugging it over your shoulders and then looking back down at Dazai. “Ready?” 

“Yup,” Chuuya agrees, leaning down to grab Dazai’s feet again.

You grimace as the harsh and bitter winds immediately sting your face, a shiver running down your body. You glance over at Chuuya, whose face is already becoming red with the cold, he looks distinctly uncomfortable although he’s trying to hide it, and you feel a bit guilty. You look to the side, all the way across the shipping container yard up the hill to the road the two of you had come from, all of it covered in several feet of snow.

You realize, a bit dreadfully, that Chuuya will not be able to use his ability while carrying Dazai and you give him an agonized look.

Chuuya looks just as harrowed.

“This is going to suck.”

“Give me your blankets,” Chuuya demands, shivering violently once the two of you get Dazai up to your apartment. 

Luckily, the backup generators had come back on while the two of you were out so you didn’t have to walk up literally nearly forty stories to get to your apartment. The heat is still off though, so it’s freezing and you really need to change into something warmer, but you’re more concerned with the boy curled up beneath your covers, still breathing but still also concerningly slow.

“He’s not looking too good,” you say quietly, reaching out to pull the blankets tighter around him. You brush your fingers across his cheekbone, trying to see if he’ll stir at all, but he remains frighteningly still. “Do you think maybe I should call Mori?”

You don’t want to call Mori and you’re pretty sure Dazai wouldn’t want you to call Mori, but you think that if he doesn’t move or show some kind of life in the next ten minutes, you’re going to have to. As much as you don’t want to get the man involved, you want Dazai to die in your bed even less. You sigh as you take a seat at his bedside, pulling out your phone to try to figure out what exactly you should do if he’s hypothermic.

“Yo, I asked for blankets,” Chuuya says irritably, rifling around your clothes closet for blankets. “Where are they?”

“Downstairs,” you say dismissively, “I thought you weren’t staying.”

Chuuya’s shoulders slump as he scowls at you. “Only long enough for you to figure out if he’s gonna live,” he mutters and then storms downstairs to find blankets as you finally find a website that will load so you can figure out what to do with Dazai.

Be gentle. When helping someone with hypothermia, handle them gently. Only move the person as much as is necessary. Don't massage or rub the person. Vigorous or jarring movements may trigger cardiac arrest.

Move the person out of the cold. Move the person to a warm, dry location if possible. If moving is not possible, shield the person from the cold and wind as much as possible. The person should be kept in a flat position if possible.

Remove wet clothing. If the person is wearing wet clothing, remove it. Cut away clothing if necessary to avoid too much movement.

Cover the person with blankets. Use layers of dry blankets or coats to warm the person. Cover the person's head, leaving only the face exposed.

Monitor breathing. A person with severe hypothermia may appear unconscious, with no clear signs of a pulse or breathing. If the person's breathing has stopped or appears dangerously low or shallow, begin CPR right away if you're trained.

Supply warm beverages. If the affected person is alert and able to swallow, give the person a warm, sweet, nonalcoholic, noncaffeinated drink. Warm drinks can help warm the body.

Well, you think, he’s not conscious for a warm drink and Chuuya changed him into a warm pair of your thick sweatshirts and sweatpants. He’s piled under the blankets in your room and he didn’t go into cardiac arrest from the two of you jostling him out of the shipping yard and into your apartment, so you think the only thing really left for you to do is make sure he keeps breathing.

You can do that.

You turn your attention back to Dazai, chewing the inside of your cheek as you look down at him. You shift into a cross-legged position, hesitantly reaching out to touch his cheek. His skin is cold under your touch but your breath hitches when he finally moves on his own; you almost draw your hand back like you’ve been burned when you see his lashes flutter, but you don’t. Your lips part when he unconsciously leans into your touch, a soft puff of air escaping his lips as he shifts into a more comfortable position, pressing his face into your hand. 

You’re only snapped back to reality when Chuuya walks back into your bedroom, your fluffy blanket from the couch downstairs pulled entirely around him. He gives you a judgmental look, eyes drawing from where you’d very inconspicuously yanked your hand back into your lap before looking back up to your face and your cheeks heats up.

“I was checking his temperature,” you hiss, lying through your teeth. “Don’t look at me like that when you look like an egg.”

“Yeah, okay.” Chuuya rolls his eyes as he waddles over to you, sitting on the bed next to you as the two of you look over Dazai. “How is he?”

“Alive,” you say with a shrug. “There’s nothing else to really do but make sure he keeps breathing. Give him warm water to drink when he wakes up. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine,” he replies awkwardly. “I’ll stay for a bit. Don’t want to go back so Ane-san can scold me anyway…”

You think it’s more that he feels guilty over wanting to leave Dazai out there while he was suffering but you don’t shatter the facade he’s putting up because if he feels bad, it’ll be easier for you to make him do the things you don’t want to do while he’s here.

“Yeah, she’ll probably be mad,” you agree, glancing down at Dazai again, some of your tension easing when you see that his chest is rising and falling a bit more steadily and much more deeply now. “I’m not happy with her.”

“Why?” Chuuya asks.

“What do you mean why?” you ask. “You know why.”

“She was just trying to look out for you,” Chuuya says with a frown. “She’s right, the Boss gets weird about Dazai. I mean, I’m sure you’ve seen it yourself but you haven’t been here the past year. I always thought it was weird that he never introduced Dazai to the Flags like he did for me but… I just don’t think he likes it when people get close to Dazai.”

It is weird, you won’t deny that, but it’s not worth leaving him out there to die. Plus… you remember the day you first met him, his excitement at having someone else his age around, his disappointment when he thought you didn’t like him… he’s just a boy, a lonely one at that, and Mori is cruel for trying to keep him isolated.

“I don’t care what Mori wants,” you say tightly. 

It’s a lie—the thought of doing something that pisses him off chills you to the bone. Your throat spasms as your mind is drawn back to the warzone he found you in; the way he’d give you small smiles and pats on the head all the while telling you that if you couldn’t get a hold of your ability, he’d send you back where you came from. The thought is cold and haunting, a constant reminder that if you can’t prove your worth to him he’ll discard you like a useless tool, but…

Your gaze drifts back over to Dazai, still shivering from where tucked underneath your blankets, but he looks much more comfortable. Much more at peace. You think again of the way he was so happy to meet you. The way he was so bothered by the thought of you not liking him. The way he constantly tries to seek you out even though Mori ensures that the two of you have opposite mission schedules. The way he so instinctively leaned into your touch. 

But maybe just this once you’ll do what you want regardless of Mori’s wishes.

Chuuya gives you a heavy side eye before shaking his head. “Wanna play cards?”

“... Yeah, sure.”

The first time Dazai wakes up, he’s not even coherent.

He doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, doesn't know who you are, and is panicked over something. Chuuya had left hours ago once the two of you were mostly certain that Dazai wouldn’t suddenly die, going back to his apartment to face the wrath of Kouyou for disobeying her. You’re starting to doze off when you feel him jerk up next to you; he thrashes under the covers as he tries to free himself, nearly knocking you off of the bed.

“Dazai,” you gasp, startled. You shift around to try to get him to calm down and nearly end up with a fist to the face. “Jesus, Dazai, chill.”

You grab his hand and try to pin him down to the bed but it only ends with him thrashing harder, eyes wild, more panicked. You let go of his wrist and he scrambles away, tripping off the bed and onto the floor, yanking the blankets with him. You curse as you follow after him, kneeling on the floor next to him as he scuttles back into the corner like a frightened animal.

He looks… terrible, actually. His skin is pale and clammy, you think he must have developed a fever from the cold. He looks half delirious, his visible eye is glazed over and full of fear and your throat tightens as you lift your hands to try to show you mean no harm. Dazai doesn’t calm down, kicks his feet out when you try to get close and you sigh before stopping a few feet away from him.

“Dazai, calm down, it’s just me,” you say quietly. 

When he finally starts to calm down, you shift forward to place your hands on his ankles, stopping him from kicking out again if something sets him off. When he doesn’t immediately start thrashing under your touch, you take it as an okay to come closer. Scooting against the floor, you come to sit next to him, pressing your shoulder against his. Dazai instantly is leaning into you, body exhausted, head falling against your shoulder.

“We have to get you back up on the bed,” you tell him but you feel him weakly shake his head from where it’s resting on your shoulder. “We have to, Dazai. You can't stay on the floor.”

“Why are you here?” he croaks out. “... Why am I here? Is this your apartment?”

“You were going to freeze to death out there,” you tell him. “I-”

“But why? Why do you care? I don’t-no one cares so why…” Dazai doesn’t even finish the question, tongue loosened in his half-delirious state. He sounds distressed but more than that he sounds confused, like he can’t understand why you would go out of your way for him. Him.

“C��mon, Dazai, back in bed,” is all you say, voice quiet as you shift into a kneeling position, wrapping an arm around his waist to help him stumble back to his feet.

He’s light, but his limbs are awkwardly long so you stumble a bit when he leans his full body weight onto you, nearly tripping over one of his legs as you help him onto the bed. As soon as you get him situated, you reach back over onto the floor to grab the blankets he’d pulled off the bed and tuck him back under them.

His eye tracks you—big and black and empty as you leave his side to grab the chamomile tea you’d brewed when he finally started stirring thirty minutes ago. It’s not as hot now but it’s warm enough.

You sit at his side, shoulder pressed to his and back against the headboard as you lift the mug to his lips. He stares down at the mug for a moment, making no move to drink it, but then he lets his head fall on your shoulder again, pressing his lips to the rim of the mug.

You tilt the mug back, using your other hand to keep his head steady, watching as he takes a few sips before stubbornly turning his head away, pressing his face into your shoulder so that you can’t force him to drink anymore.

“You should take a few more sips,” you tell him quietly. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“No,” he says, voice muffled against your shirt. It’s only when he hears you put the mug back down does he finally lift his face. He still looks entirely out of it, but his gaze still somehow manages to take upon a more accusing look. “Why am I here?”

“I told you why,” you frown, side-eyeing him.

“Why am I really here? Did Mori tell you to come check on me? I don’t need-”

“I came because I wanted to,” you say as you become increasingly more irritated. “I’m not Mori’s lapdog. I do what I want.”

Dazai stares at you, more withdrawn now and an uncertain look in his eye. “But why?” he asks, a bit quieter this time like he can’t possibly fathom why someone would come for him because they wanted to. You almost want to reach down and grab his hand but you refrain. Instead, you knock the side of your head gently against his.

“I told you back when we met that I wanted to know you. Wanted to be your friend,” you say, honestly.

“You didn’t say that,” Dazai accuses, averting his gaze. “That you wanted to be my friend. You didn’t say that.”

“It was kind of implied,” you reply, rolling your eyes and that add a bit more quietly, “I do. I do want to be your friend. And friends look out for each other.”

Dazai’s entire expression shifts at your words, expression crumbling. Just as suddenly as his expression changes, he throws himself back into a laying position, turning away from you and lifting the covers up above his head to hide himself from you. You stare at him, unsure of how to take his reaction—a rejection? Or maybe he’s just flustered? He murmurs something that you can’t hear because it’s smothered by the layers of blankets on top of him.

“Huh?”

“I said that I’m allowing you to be my friend,” Dazai raises his voice, pitched and wobbly, like he’s trying to make it come across more snooty than it actually does. As if it’s a bother for you to want to be his friend. It’s almost funny but you can’t help the way you roll your eyes again. “Be grateful.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you say sarcastically, “for gracing me with this most honored title.”

You hear him sniffle and then sneeze beneath the lump of blankets. “It is an honored title. You’re welcome.”

You roll your eyes. Again. But you don’t respond this time, resigning to just leaning back against the headboard and grab the book you were starting before you’d started dozing off. You think maybe he might be right—it is an honored title. Dazai doesn’t have many friends, doesn’t let people get too close and certainly doesn’t let them think they mean anything to him. He’s very selective with the people he chooses to associate with.

“The next time you wake up, as your friend, I’m forcing you to eat some soup.”

You hear him grumble but you think he must be too tired to protest because he doesn’t even get any words out before you notice that his breath has evened out beneath the blankets. You sigh and pull them down a bit so that he doesn’t accidentally smother himself to death in his sleep, ignoring the small smile that twitches to your lips as you turn your attention back to your book.

The second time Dazai wakes up, he’s much more alert and entirely more difficult.

“You need to eat something,” you hiss, trying to wrangle Dazai up out of bed. “And you need to drink something, you’ve sweat so much that my sheets are soaked through. You’re going to be dehydrated and then you’re going to feel worse.”

“Go away,” Dazai shrieks, nearly smacking you in the face as he tries to push you away. “Go away, I don’t want your help, just let me go back to the shipping container to die. I don’t-”

“Oh, would you just shut up?” you hiss, taking the pillow he was laying on and whacking him over the head with it hard. Dazai flops back on the bed hard, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. You raise the pillow again threateningly. “Get up and eat soup or I’ll hit you again.”

“You just whacked me with a pillow while I’m dying of fever,” Dazai says, voice riddled with shock. “I can’t believe you just-”

“Eat the soup,” you demand, winding back your arms again as you prepare to hit him again. 

Dazai gives the pillow a wary look before sitting up and scooching across the bed to the nightstand, staring at the now lukewarm soup with a contemplative expression. “Do you eat or drink soup? It’s liquid, isn’t it? Wouldn’t I be drinking the soup?” 

You stare at him flatly. “There’s carrots in it. You’re eating the carrots, so you’re eating the soup.”

Dazai’s face twists in disgust as soon as the c-word leaves your lips and you know you’ve made a mistake. Everything happens in a split second—you see him look at you from the corner of his eye, you see his gaze dart to the door, and you see his body tense as he prepares to make a break for it.

He doesn’t get more than an inch before you’re bringing the pillow back down on his head, sending him sprawling back down against the mattress with a loud ‘oof.’

“You can’t just beat me until I eat the soup,” Dazai protests loudly, disgruntled as he looks around trying to figure out if he can try to make another break for it, casting the pillow a wary look. Luckily, even if he is more coherent now, his brain and body are still sluggish from the fever. “You can’t.”

“Watch me,” you say, and just for good measure, you whack him with it again.

“Stop! I didn’t even move that time,” he cries out. “Now you’re hitting me just to hit me!” 

“You’re not eating it fast enough.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair!”

Dazai bristles like an irritated cat as he stares at you, but his shoulders slump as he drags himself back over to the nightstand. You’re almost insulted, honestly, considering you spent an hour trying to figure out how to cook it properly for him, but you simmer down when he lifts the spoon from the bowl.

He blinks suddenly, eyes wide and owlish. “This spoon is large.”

You stare at him. “It’s a soup spoon,” you say flatly. 

“Can I keep it?” he asks, twisting it around to look at it more carefully.

“No, Dazai, you can’t keep my spoon.”

Dazai pouts at you but then lets out a heavy, disappointed sigh as he gives the soup one last wary look before taking his first spoonful of soup. For a split second, you watch with bated breath to see his reaction to it, but then his face lights up as he spoons up another mouthful of the soup. You pretend that you’re not entirely pleased and smug that he likes the soup you made him, but you can’t help yourself from making a snide comment.

“So after all of that, you like it,” you say dryly. 

Dazai scowls. “I’m just hungry,” he disagrees, but his cheeks are flushed pink. “That’s all.”

“Sure,” you agree blandly.

“It’s true.”

You don’t say anything else after that, staring at the wall as Dazai scarfs down the entire bowl of soup because whenever you look at him, he stops mid-spoonful and waits for you to look away again. You think he’s ridiculous and want to roll your eyes, but you also can’t help the fondness that blooms in you as you pull your knees to your chest and wait for him to finish.

It’s not long before you hear the spoon scraping against the bottom of the bowl. When you look over at him, you see the frown on his face as he looks down at the bowl—as if he hadn’t realized that he’d finished all of the soup already. You nudge his shoulder with yours, drawing his attention away from the empty bowl. 

“There’s more in the pot if you want it,” you offer, watching as a conflicted expression crosses his face as he looks back down at the bowl. “It’s gonna go to waste if you don’t. I ate earlier.”

Finally, Dazai mutters, “Only because you’re forcing me.”

You give him a flat look but don’t say anything else, taking the bowl from him and making your wait out of the bedroom to the kitchen. It’s been a little over a day since you first got him in your apartment. It’s dark again, the moon high in the sky and stars glittering prettily—you pause at the towering windows in your living room to look up at the sky and you find yourself thinking of Dazai. 

Or, of his eyes that is.

When you hear people talk about Dazai, they mostly talk about his mass of terrifying feats. They talk about how he’s sixteen and already in command of one of the Port Mafia’s most elite combat squads, they talk about how he’s sixteen and rivaling the Colonel’s success rate on operations, they talk about how he’s on track to be the next promoted executive whenever there’s another opening. They talk about how his blood is blacker than anyone else in the upper echelon, they talk about how he was born to be one of them. You can never tell if they’re scared of him or if they admire him—probably both, and you think they’re probably more scared than anything. 

They also talk about his eyes. Eye. Whatever. Too dark, too emotionless, too dull. Soulless, hollow, creepy. They’re uncomfortable meeting his gaze—they say he’s inhuman, that only a demon could have eyes so hauntingly empty. 

You think they’re wrong, they remind you more of the night sky than anything else.

You love the stars. 

You sigh as you walk over to the kitchen and pour the rest of the soup into the bowl. You heat it back up in the microwave for a few seconds before bringing it back over to the spare bedroom where Dazai is staying. You think you’ve probably not been gone for more than two minutes, but by the time you’re back, Dazai is curled up beneath the covers again, dozing off. 

He doesn’t notice you enter the room and you watch him for a moment, tilting your head to the side as take note of the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his lashes flutter as his eyes droop shut. There’s still sweat beaded on his forehead, a faint flush over his cheeks that proves the fever is still running him down—you find your lips curving up, you think he’s much more pleasant when he doesn’t speak. 

He only jerks back awake when you take a few steps closer to him, eyes wild with panic as if he was surprised by your presence. He doesn’t seem to recognize you for a moment but when he does, he visibly relaxes, brows furrowing in confusion as if he didn’t realize he’d started falling asleep.

“You can sleep if you’re tired,” you say as you place the soup down on the nightstand and take a seat on the edge of the bed next to him. “I can heat up the soup later.”

Dazai stares at you with an unreadable expression, he looks like he wants to ask you something or say something but his lips remain sealed shut. After a few moments, he sits up silently and shifts into a sitting position. Your shoulders brush and his thigh is pressed against yours as he starts to eat the soup carefully again, slower this time.

Too slow, you realize almost a second too late when Dazai’s head lolls to the side and he nearly drops a whole spoonful of soup onto the bed. Luckily, you’re quick enough to grab the bowl and catch the spoon and soup before it hits the sheets. His head drops on your shoulder and that fondness in your chest starts to spread again. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Dazai so at peace before, and yes, it might be because he’s half dead with exhaustion, but you think it’s a welcome difference from the tight expressions you’ve seen from him when you happen to cross paths with him at headquarters. When he’s not Dazai Osamu, but the Demon Prodigy, the Black Wraith, cold and distant, intimidating and cruel, not a sixteen-year-old boy who dislikes carrots and has a fascination with soup spoons. You think back to his refusal to believe that you were helping him of your own free will and you can’t help but frown a bit.

You let him lay on your shoulder for a second longer than necessary before shifting him back into a lying position and tucking him beneath the comforter. You sigh as you take a seat next to him, back against the headboard as you pull out your phone to shoot a text to Chuuya so you can let him know that Dazai is doing better.

You yawn as you think to yourself that you’ll stay a bit longer—watch over Dazai to make sure he doesn’t get worse again before heading back up to your own room… but you find yourself sinking into the mattress, a bit too sleepy and a bit too comfortable…

Dazai feels better the next time he wakes up. 

He yawns as he shifts in bed to nuzzle into the thick blankets and soft pillows. He feels warm, comfortable, surrounded by a familiar and pleasant scent that leaves his defenses dangerously low. A bit alarmed by how at ease he feels, Dazai’s eyes fly open, trying to figure out where the fuck he is and why the fuck he feels so good.

He tries to sit up, but there’s a weight pressed against his side that makes him pause, so he turns his head to the side slowly, unsure of what he’s going to find. He freezes when he sees you propped up against the headboard next to him, fast asleep, neck turned at an uncomfortable angle.

“Friends look out for each other.”

At once, the past day or so comes back to him—most of it is a fog but he vividly remembers him waking up a few hours ago and you whacking him around with pillows until he got some soup in him. He finds his lips curling up into an amused smile as he looks down at you, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest that makes him feel almost… Dazai doesn’t dare to admit it. He’s never had someone take care of him like that before.

He sighs as he reaches out to shift you into a more comfortable position. Carefully, laying you down against the mattress and placing your head on the pillow where his had been resting. He pulls the covers over you and watches as you let out a sleepy hum of appreciation, rubbing your face against the pillow before settling back down into a deep sleep.

His hands drop back down to his lap and he stares at you for a moment, wondering if you meant what you said, wondering if you were telling the truth when you told him Mori hadn’t been the one to send you to check on him, wondering if maybe… 

Wondering if maybe you really did want to be his friend. 

Dazai doesn’t have many friends. He has Oda, but he pretty much forced himself into Oda’s life by almost dying on his doorstep—literally—so he doesn’t think that really counts. Chuuya… well, he pretty much coerces Chuuya into hanging out with him by antagonizing him into video game challenges, so he doesn’t think that really counts either. 

Dazai might not have any friends, actually. 

He decidedly doesn’t like the emotion spreading through him now. It's light and airy and it clings to his black heart dangerously. It blooms in a way that nothing should be able to bloom in the dark. It’s too… feels too close to hope and Dazai knows better than anyone that hope is a dangerous, dangerous emotion—one that he shouldn’t allow to take root in him unless he wants to be hurt in ways that he’s tried to carefully guard himself from.

He should leave.

He should leave now. 

He’s feeling better, there’s no reason for him to stay now that he can move around and think but…

But this bed is so much more comfortable than the floor of his shipping container… The sheets and comforter are warmer than the thin and ripped blanket he uses to cover himself at night… The pillows are so much softer than the clothes he props behind his head as a pillow. Dazai has never slept so well in his entire life—the nights that he is able to sleep are restless and plagued with faces he’d rather forget and voices that haunt him. This is the first time in… well, forever, that he’s been able to sleep peacefully, that he actually feels rested when he wakes up in the morning. The thought of going back to that metal box almost makes his body itch with discomfort. 

He’s just so warm and so comfortable and you smell so nice… and Dazai... for the first time in his life, he feels content.

As soon as Dazai is awake, he feels his eyes drooping back shut just as quickly, breath evening out again as he drifts back to sleep.

“So he’s just… living with you now?” Chuuya asks, baffled.

“I mean, I guess so,” you shrug helplessly. “He just… never left after we brought him there that day.”

Never left and brought his few belongings into the spare room he’d been staying in when he was sick, but you don’t add that part. Honestly, you don’t mind that Dazai has usurped your spare room—your apartment is too big for just you to be living in, you don’t mind the company after spending two years alone in Kyoto and Dazai is fun to be around despite the awful movie he picked on Friday and his terrible taste in food. 

Plus, you think it’s a bit of a much deserved, subtle rebellion from Mori, who has seemed to do everything in his power to make sure that the two of you never have time to interact with each other. You’re still not quite sure why he seems to be against the idea of you and Dazai becoming friends—probably something to do with a future plan of his, or maybe he really is just worried that you’ll distract Dazai from the carefully constructed path Mori has set him down—but you’ve decided that you like Dazai and you want to be his friend whether Mori likes it or not… which is saying a lot, considering you don’t think you’ve ever wanted something more than you want to impress Mori.

He’s not happy with you—you can tell by the disapproving stares and the disappointed comments that make you want to curl in on yourself, and you have a feeling that as soon as this conflict is over with, he’s going to send you right back to Kyoto, but that’s an issue for you to deal with in the future. 

For now, you’ll enjoy not being alone. Not having to watch your back and sleep with one eye open. Having people to rely on. 

Having friends. 

“And you didn’t tell him to get the fuck out?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you do that?” Chuuya demands. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“He lived in a shipping container, Chuuya,” you defend yourself, “and I have a spare bedroom, it’s not a big deal.”

Chuuya stares at you for a moment, gaze sharp and accusatory, and then his expression shifts into one of disgust. “No.”

“Excuse me?” you demand, baffled.

“No. No, no, no. No.” Chuuya shakes his head, taking a step away from you. “You need to see a goddamn shrink. There’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“Something wrong with me? What are you even talking about?” 

Chuuya doesn’t even respond, looking severely disturbed as he storms off in the opposite direction, leaving you standing there, perplexed and slightly insulted. 

“What’s the pipsqueak crying about this time? Is it his height or his terrible taste in clothes?” A familiar voice mocks from behind you. 

You brighten a bit at Dazai’s voice, feeling him hanging over your shoulder as he looks over to where Chuuya had left. His cheek brushes yours from how close he is—he has no concept of personal space, you’ve realized in the past few days he’s decided to make himself at home in your apartment, but you don’t really mind.

“Couldn’t tell you,” you answer. “Just ran off mid-conversation.”

Dazai clicks his tongue. “Stupid slug is always getting emotional about something,” he says. “Whatever. More popcorn for me. I finished my assignment early. Movie?”

“You’re not picking this one.”

“What? My movie was great.”

“Hah! If you say so.”

“I do say so, and I have another that you’re gonna looooove.”

“You will literally have to tie me down and clamp my eyes open to make me watch another movie of yours, Dazai.”

“...”

“... Stop looking at me like that.”

“...”

“Dazai!”

[fandoms-x-reader]

Body Swapping

Inspired By: @ricaaathelittlelamb

Headcannons

Summary: In one way or another, Solomon is trying to perform a spell when something goes wrong and you end up body-swapping with one of the demon brothers. While you're in their body, you get a first-hand look of what it's like to live with their sin and it brings you closer to them (individually).

Lucifer was in a very important meeting with Lord Diavolo and demanded that no funny business go on at the House of Lamentation while he was gone.

Which of course meant that funny business had to occur. It was a must.

At least that was the excuse Belphie and Satan gave you as they led you to the library where Solomon was already waiting for the three of you. 

“What exactly are you planning?” you asked, giving them a suspicious look.

“Just a simple transformation spell,” Satan replied, but you could see the sinister look in their eyes.

“So, have you decided on what it’ll be then?” Solomon asked the two brothers. They shared a look with each other before Satan replied, “A sheep.”

“A sheep?” you questioned and when Satan locked eyes with you, you understood what he meant. They were going to turn Lucifer into a sheep while he was in the meeting with Lord Diavolo.

“He’ll be absolutely humiliated,” Belphie added, a sinister chuckle escaping his lips. Bad idea.

“How are you even going to perform a curse like that?” you questioned and Solomon held up one of Lucifer’s socks. 

Come to think of it, Lucifer had recently been asking you if you had seen his socks.

“We just needed an item of his,” Solomon replied, beginning to gather the ingredients together.

“And why exactly are you helping them, Solomon?” you questioned curiously. Solomon gave you a happy smile before answering, “I have my reasons.” As mysterious as ever.

You sat back and watched as Solomon said the incantation. Clearly, they were all determined to perform this spell and nothing you said would change their minds. 

You watched as the smoke filled the room, blocking out nearly everything in sight and when it disappeared you were seated in the assembly hall in front of Lord Diavolo and Barbatos.

“Diavolo?” you questioned, furrowing your eyebrows. “Yes, Lucifer?” Diavolo asked in return giving you a curious look. Lucifer?

You looked down at your body and mentally cursed. Of course, Solomon messed up the spell. You had to bite your lip from laughing at the mental image of Lucifer in your body, standing in front of the Anti-Lucifer League and their honorary member as he finds out what they did.

As angry as you were, you knew Belphie and Satan would be upset if you passed up the opportunity to find out information only Lucifer would know.

“Diavolo,” you said, sitting up a bit more as you locked eyes with him. “I have to know - what do you really think of me?” you questioned with an innocent smile.

Diavolo was taken aback by your question but a large smile soon spread across his face as he replied, “I think you’re wonderful. You’re an excellent leader and a loyal friend.”

As Diavolo spoke you felt a deep sense of gratification. No, not gratitude - pride. It was an amazing feeling. 

A graceful smile broke across your lips as you silently pleaded with Lord Diavolo to continue his praises.

Diavolo opened his mouth to continue speaking when the door to the assembly room suddenly burst open and a very angry-looking “you” came walking through the door.

“Lord Diavolo, do not say another word,” your body stated and both he and Barbatos looked at you as if you had lost your mind. The audacity. 

But then Diavolo looked at you closer and he understood what was happening. “Y/N, I see that you’re just as charming in your body as you are in Lucifer’s,” Diavolo stated, looking somewhat amused by the situation.

Your body walked forward as if to come lecture you when suddenly the room filled with smoke and you were back in your body. You were teleported to the House of Lamentation before Lucifer had a chance to scold you thanks to Solomon who figured it was the least he could do. 

When Lucifer got back to the House of Lamentation, the lecture was a long one. You had tried to explain that technically you were a victim as well. But, he pointed out that it didn’t stop you from taking advantage of his body to gain information from Diavolo.

After the first hour, you had grown bored and decided to use what you had found out about Lucifer to your advantage. 

“Is there anything else you’d like to say for yourselves?” Lucifer questioned, his gaze narrowing. “You’re really great at giving lectures, Lucifer,” you replied. Satan and Belphie looked at you like you had just grown another head while Lucifer stared at you in shock. He didn’t expect that.

“What?” he asked, more to himself than anything else. “It’s just the way you reprimand with so much passion - it makes me really respect you,” you replied nonchalantly.

Satan and Belphie realized it was a trick. Lucifer knew it was a trick. Yet, he couldn’t help the swell in his heart. Lucifer sent one more glare to his younger brothers before asking them to leave.

You, however, were going to have to pay for stopping his lecture short. And you did so by sitting next to Lucifer and giving him praises as you held his hand or gently ran your fingers through his hair. You started this game and now you were “suffering the consequences”.

Except it didn’t feel like a consequence to either of you and you were actually glad to have some alone time with Lucifer. Especially when you got to see his eyes glowing blue with pride as he gave you a smile full of love.

Mammon felt an indescribable need to be around you almost all the time. It didn’t matter where you were going or what you were doing - Mammon wanted to be there.

Which is how he got stuck in the lab with you and Solomon while you were trying to create a spell. 

The two of you were partners in a class and had to perform a specific curse in order to pass the assignment. 

You were in charge of reading the instructions to Solomon and he was the one actually putting the ingredients together since he had more practice at spells.

And Mammon was being completely unhelpful as he sat next to you, bored out of his mind.

“How long is this gonna take?” Mammon asked, looking over your shoulder to read from the spellbook in your hands.

“If you’re bored, you can leave. You’re not the one who has to do the assignment,” you replied with a small smile.

“And leave ya’ alone with Solomon. You’re just askin’ for a death sentence,” Mammon replied, making you chuckle.

You told Solomon the next ingredient to add and then Mammon took the book out of your hand. “Lemme help,” Mammon told you, reading down the page and telling Solomon the next few ingredients. 

“See, it goes faster if you tell him more things at once,” Mammon stated and you playfully rolled your eyes at Mammon, taking the book back and giving Solomon the last ingredient after the one Mammon said.

Things got fuzzy as Solomon added the last ingredient and the next thing you remembered was staring at yourself, both of you looking very confused.

“Now see this is what I meant! This is why I can’t leave ya’ alone with Solomon. He turned you into another me!” your body said and it was obvious who it actually was inside.

“Not exactly,” you replied. Mammon turned to look at you confused and you motioned towards your body. Mammon’s cheeks turned a deep shade as he realized he was in your body.

He was doing everything he could not to look down at your body. Just because it was him in it didn’t mean it wasn’t your body and we all know he had a big weakness when it came to you.

Mammon glared at Solomon who immediately responded with a smile. “Why don’t the two of you go shopping for a bit I’ll have a cure by the time you come back!” Solomon suggested, leading you both to the door.

Mammon hesitantly agreed and you followed him around town, looking through the windows of the different shops.

It didn’t take long for you to find something that you wanted and as you entered the shop, you slowly began to feel more and more greedy as you grabbed random things that you didn’t need but wanted.

Mammon had walked around the store as well and was wondering why he didn’t want a single thing. Was there something wrong with him?

Then he saw you with your arms full of stuff and he understood what was happening.  Your eyes had a familiar gold glint to them and Mammon couldn’t help but admire you from afar. Was it bad to enjoy watching you indulge in his sin?

He didn’t have the heart to tell you that you couldn’t get what you wanted. He would give you the world if he could. So he simply fronted the bill, knowing he would regret it later.

Luckily, Solomon approached the two of you before you could enter another store. He quickly said the spell that undid the effects of the curse and you were thankful to be in your own body.

Then you saw Mammon standing there, holding the bags of stuff you had just bought and an intense wave of guilt crashed down on you. 

“Mammon…come on, maybe they’ll let us return the items since we didn’t fully leave,” you told him, gently taking his hand to lead him back to the store.

Mammon gave you a soft smile before replying, “No, it’s okay. These are all things that ya’ wanted.”

“But, I don’t need them,” you argued, trying once again to lead him back to the store. Mammon let out a small sigh before saying, “Would ya’ just let me spoil you for once.”

You were taken aback by his words and your heart melted as you saw him looking down at the ground with a small blush on his cheeks. He just wanted to do something nice.

You couldn’t take this away from him. “Alright, then you deserve a thank you,” you replied, giving him a chaste kiss that only made him blush harder.

Thanks to the mishap, it was easy for you to understand how greed can overpower you and lead to some bad choices. But those bad choices can sometimes lead to good things. 

Levi had only wanted to replicate a spell that he saw in one of his anime. 

The spell was completely harmless. It was meant to bring a stuffed animal of your choosing to life. A simple animation spell.

He requested the help of Solomon who - after much begging from the Avatar of Envy - agreed to help. 

And of course, Levi had to invite his player two along as well. He wouldn’t want you to miss out on all of the fun!

So now the three of you were standing in a circle around a Ruri-Chan stuffed animal. Levi had sent her longing gazes as Solomon prepared for the spell and you couldn’t help but notice them. He really was obsessed with her.

Levi handed Solomon the instructions on how to perform the spell. And Solomon read them step by step, following them down to the detail. 

Except, clearly he didn’t do something right as you and Levi were now in each other’s bodies. 

You let out a small gasp as you and Levi locked eyes, the two of you understanding the predicament you were now in.

Levi was a blushing mess as he tried to back away from the two of you, only to stumble to the ground. “Ow!” Levi exclaimed as he hit the hard floor. 

“Levi, are you okay?” you questioned. It didn’t seem like a hard fall, but from the way he acted, you would think he fell down the stairs.

“Normie bodies are so weak,” Levi pouted as he looked back up at you. You looked over at Solomon who was looking confused as he read over the instructions. 

“Levi, what spellbook did you get these instructions from?” Solomon questioned. He was sure he had done the spell right.

“Spellbook? I got it off the fan page for the anime,” Levi replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wait - this wasn’t a real spell?!” you questioned as you turned to look at Levi. 

“It’s a real spell - it’s just not what Levi wanted. These were instructions for a body-swapping spell,” Solomon replied.

“You don’t say,” you responded sarcastically, giving Solomon a slightly irritated look. “If you knew it was a body-swapping spell, then why did you say it?” you asked him.

“I honestly wasn’t paying attention to the spell because I didn’t think it would work,” Solomon replied. 

You turned to talk to Levi when you saw him cradling his Ruri-chan plush in his hands. You felt a spark of envy inside of you, but you did your best to calm yourself down. Were you really jealous of a plush? Still, sometimes you couldn’t help but wish Levi looked at you like that.

“Someday I’ll make you mine,” he said barely above a whisper as he held the plush to his chest and you felt yourself lose control. It was like a ball of fire built up inside of you as Levi’s tail suddenly snatched the plush from your body and threw it across the room.

“Hey!” Levi said, turning to scold you but he stopped in his tracks when he saw the way your eyes were glowing orange. Were you jealous?

Levi was a bit excited at the idea of you being jealous of the doll just because Levi had been hugging it close to him. 

He didn’t have time to relish in the feeling though as Solomon quickly reversed the spell. 

When you were back in your body, your gaze met Levi’s and a deep blush coated your cheeks. You knew that you had only reacted that way because you were in Levi’s body, but it didn’t change how you felt about Levi and you couldn’t help but feel like you had just exposed your true feelings.

Levi isn’t good at taking advantage of situations, so unfortunately for him, you left before he could say anything else.

But, he does pay attention more to you when the two of you are hanging out instead of his figures. He knows the difference between reality and fiction and he didn’t want to lose someone who was real to his fantasies.

Part of him did like seeing his sin on you though, so he’s not opposed to trying to make you jealous again with his love for his anime characters. Especially if you had spent too much time that day with his brothers.

You were falling a bit behind on the curses and hexes portion of your classes. Solomon had offered to help you after class and since Satan was well-versed in the area as well, he decided to help too.

You sat next to Satan as Solomon demonstrated how to do the curse you were working on. “And then you add this ingredient in and it’s done!” Solomon said with a proud smile.

“Wait, did you add the-?” Satan tried to ask but it was too late. Smoke filled the air as you suddenly felt dizzy.

You opened your eyes and let out a small gasp as you saw yourself looking right back at you. “What’s going on?” you asked, but your voice was different.

You looked down and recognized the clothes you were wearing. A blush coated both of your cheeks as you realized what had happened. “Solomon - you didn’t,” you said, looking up at the sorcerer.

“It looks like I forgot an ingredient,” Solomon replied a bit sheepishly. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a great sorcerer?” Satan asked him. Hearing your voice when you weren’t in your body was throwing you for a loop and only added to the irritation that was currently building.

“I am a great sorcerer,” Solomon argued and you felt your chest tightening. Solomon opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off.

“Just fix it,” you snapped at him, your eyes beginning to glow green from your frustration. 

You felt someone place their hand in yours, and you turned to see it was yourself. Well, Satan. Even though it was your body, he had a strong presence and it still comforted you.

He knew his anger well. He knew how easy it was to set him off. He had centuries of practice and he still loses control. So he could only imagine how you were feeling.

He, on the other hand, was feeling amazing. He felt perfectly content and it reminded him of the time he spent with you. When he was in his body, that was the only time he felt content. 

And as much as his anger was a hindrance at times, Satan was grateful for it. If he felt happy all of the time, then he was afraid that he wouldn’t consider his time with you as special. 

Was that how you felt? Satan was now overthinking things. If you felt that content all the time, then being around him wouldn’t make a difference right? Not in the same way it made a difference for him.

“Okay, done!” Solomon suddenly said and the room once again filled with smoke. You let out a breath of relief as you looked down and saw that you were back in your body. 

You gave Satan a smile and he returned it, but you noticed there was a hidden emotion behind his eyes. 

“Well, I think that’s enough studying for one day,” Solomon stated before leaving the room with his items. 

You turned to face Satan who seemed to be lost in thought. “I think I should just stick with you teaching me next time,” you told him with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

Satan let out a small half-hearted laugh as he replied, “It’d certainly be less risky.” You could still see thoughts running through his mind. 

Just as you were about to ask him what was wrong, he spoke up.

“Do all humans feel that content?” Satan asked curiously, bringing his eyes to yours. You were a bit surprised by his question.

“I mean, how is anything supposed to make you happy if you’re always happy,” Satan added, further explaining his question. 

“Well, being content is different than being happy. Just because I feel content doesn’t mean there aren’t things that can make me more happy or give me butterflies,” you answered.

You had an idea of what Satan was getting at. An unspoken thing between the two of you. Something that was always felt but never talked about it.

“Butterflies?” Satan questioned. He had read many books on humans, but he had never heard of a feeling that resembled an insect.

“Like this,” you responded, gently placing your lips on his. Satan was surprised but immediately responded to the kiss, gently pulling you closer. 

When you pulled away, the two of you locked eyes and he understood what he was feeling.

Butterflies.

“I’m thinking - matching colors,” Asmo told you as he gently grabbed your hands in his, inspecting your nails.

“Asmo, I told you, she needs her hands to perform this spell,” Solomon replied and Asmo let out a small sigh. 

Solomon was trying to teach you how to do a particular spell but Asmo had wanted to spend some time with you because he hadn’t seen you all day.

The two of them argued for a good ten minutes about which was more important when you finally had enough and told them you would do both.

So here you were, sitting on Asmo’s bed as he painted his nails while Solomon was doing his best to instruct you how to do the spell.

“She only needs one hand at a time,” Asmo replied, letting go of one of your hands as he began painting the nails of the one he still had in his grasp.

Solomon wasn’t completely pleased but accepted it. At least you could use one of your hands. It was definitely less efficient, but sometimes there was no arguing with Asmo.

“Okay, now, hold out your hand and repeat after me,” Solomon told you. You looked at the item in front of you. It was one of Asmo’s hand mirrors and you were trying to do a transformation spell to turn it into an apple.

The spell would only last five to ten minutes since it was your first time performing it. But the more you did it, the longer the effects would last.

“Ego praecipio ut convertas in malum,” Solomon stated. You nodded your head, letting him know that you got the phrase.

“Ego praecipio ut convertas in-Asmo!” you shouted as he suddenly gave you a small tickle.

“Sorry, dear, you just looked so cute with that serious sorcerer look,” Asmo replied with a small smile as the room suddenly began to fill with smoke.

Solomon gave you a worried look as things went hazy for a moment. “What just happened?” you asked for a moment and suddenly you heard a squeal from beside you.

“There are two of me!” Asmo shouted as he pulled you into his arms. You looked to Solomon for help and he told you, “The spell that you said translates to - ‘I command that you turn into…’ and since you finished that statement with Asmo’s name, it seems the two of you switched bodies.”

Asmo - in your body - looked at Solomon confused and then looked at you in his body before finally looking down at himself.

His eyes lit up as he recognized the opportunity that had presented itself. “Okay, Solomon, thanks for coming by, see you later!” Asmo told Solomon as he gently pushed him out of the room before closing the door. 

“Asmo-,” you tried to scold, but Asmo stopped with a small pout on his lips. “Y/N, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! We have to take advantage of it!” Asmo said with a smile as he sat back down next to you on the bed.

And you wanted to continue your lecture, but your mind was currently being overwhelmed. You could somehow sense Asmo’s attraction to you and it was strong.

You tried to think clearly as Asmo got closer to you, gently stroking your cheek. The idea of kissing yourself was strange to think about. And while you were somewhat bothered by it, Asmo was completely turned on at the idea of kissing himself. 

And his excitement only made you grow more excited thanks to you being stuck in Asmo’s body. 

You were being overwhelmed with lust and even if he was in your body, the fact was that you had feelings for Asmo that were only making things that much harder. You wondered if Asmo constantly had to fight these feelings when he was around you.

Asmo could see that your eyes had a pink glow to them and he couldn’t help but smile. He knew exactly how you were feeling right now and it was driving him crazy.

You looked into your own eyes as Asmo moved to close the gap between your lips.

Just before they touched, the effects of the spell wore off and you were both returned to your own bodies. You melted into the kiss a bit, glad that you were kissing Asmo instead of yourself and when you opened your eyes to look at him, you saw the same pink glowing in his eyes that had been glowing in yours moments before.

Asmo gave you a small smile as he ran a finger over your bottom lip. He looked up at you with hopeful eyes before saying, “Just because we switched back, it doesn’t mean the fun has to stop, right?”

Of all the sins to experience firsthand, Gluttony was one the absolute worst ones.

That was what you had come to find out after a mishap in the kitchen.

You and Beel had been spending some time together when he got hungry so the two of you decided to go to the kitchen to get a snack. 

You saw a plate of cookies there with a note saying “From Purgatory Hall”.

You and Beel had assumed that it was a gift from Luke so you each took one, happily indulging in the small angel’s treats. 

It was only after you and Beel had switched bodies that you realized those cookies were definitely not made by Luke. 

You and Beel looked at each other wide-eyed as you took in each other’s appearances. You quickly grabbed the note that was left with the cookies and turned the paper over.

You let out a small gasp as you saw that the back of the note was signed by Solomon. Of course - who else would it be?

You pulled out your D.D.D. and immediately called Solomon. He answered the phone and before he could say a word, you asked, “Solomon, what were in those cookies and how long do the effects last?”

“Beel? You sound distressed,” Solomon replied. You mentally face-palmed as you realized you were using Beel’s phone and that you had his voice since you were in his body.

“It’s not Beel, it’s Y/N. We switched bodies after eating one of the cookies you so kindly left here for us,” you explained.

“Really? I must have mixed up the ingredients,” Solomon muttered to himself, getting lost in thought.

“Solomon - the cure?” you questioned, bringing him back to the conversation at hand. “Right, I’ll be right over,” Solomon replied, hanging up.

You looked over at your body and saw Beel rubbing his hands over your stomach. A blush coated your cheeks as you asked, “Beel?”

He was now blushing too as he realized what he had been doing. “Sorry - it’s just that I feel so full. I can’t remember ever feeling like this,” he replied with a smile.

You thought it was cute how happy he looked to finally be full. But the moment was soon ruined when you felt a sharp pain in your stomach followed by a loud growl.

Your eyes went wide and flashed the color red before you suddenly felt terrible. As if you had been starved for years and years on end even though you had just eaten. 

Beel could see the amount of pain you were in and immediately rushed through the kitchen grabbing whatever he could and giving it to you to eat.

You didn’t care what it was, you just needed food. If this was how hungry Beel felt all the time, you felt like the rampages he went on from time to time were completely justifiable.

Beel felt so guilty as he watched you eat, worried about you. He knew how hard it was to be so hungry you felt like your stomach was tearing itself open. 

He had learned how to manage his hunger from the centuries he had been alive. But he couldn’t imagine how hard it was for you to feel this way for the first time.

Beel gently rubbed your back as he told you, “Solomon will be here soon.” He was doing whatever he could to try and help.

As if on cue, Solomon suddenly knocked on the door and Beel immediately rushed him inside the house and led him to you. Solomon saw the drastic situation and immediately said the spell to undo the effects of the cookie.

You let out a huge sigh of relief as you were finally in your body, the famished feeling finally gone. Beel also looked much more relaxed now that you weren’t in any pain.

You turned toward Solomon and gave him a very serious look before telling him, “You’re banned from the kitchen.”

Solomon opened his mouth to argue, but when he saw the expression you made, he quickly closed it again. He gave you a small nod before leaving and you turned your attention to Beel.

“How about a Crazy Ghoul hamburger for a snack?” you asked him with a small smile as you began cooking.

You now knew that even if Beel didn’t say anything, he was constantly hungry and it was now your mission to try and bring that smile back to his face when he finally felt full.

Whenever you could, you would try and bring Beel his favorite snacks accompanied by a hug or a small kiss on his cheek.

And although he may not feel full in the food sense, he did feel fulfilled in a completely different way.

You let out a small chuckle as Belphie’s head fell to your shoulder for the fifth time in the span of thirty minutes.

You looked down at his sleeping face and couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful he looked.

You didn’t want to disturb his sleep and wake him up. But the two of you were currently being tutored by Solomon and Satan and you were afraid of what would happen if Satan caught him sleeping.

“Belphie,” you whispered softly as his eyes fluttered open. “Come on, we’re almost done and then we can go up to the attic for a nap,” you promised Belphie.

He was reluctant but nodded his head, once again sitting up. You turned your attention to Satan and Solomon once again and Satan said, “Okay, now that we’ve said the incantation to start the spell, all you have to do is add the ingredients, Y/N.” 

You nodded your head as you began adding the ingredients one by one. “Okay, and just a dash of powdered toadstool,” you said to yourself as you opened the small container to grab a pinch of the ingredient.

Just then, Belphie’s head once again collapsed on your shoulder, causing your hand to falter. You spilled almost the entire container of the powdered toadstool into the pot and you, Satan, and Solomon all looked at each other with a hint of panic in your eyes.

It can’t be that bad, right?

Belphie suddenly felt wide awake as he looked at everyone around the room. His eyes widened as he saw himself staring right back at him and he immediately looked down and noticed he was in your body.

You gave Belphie a pout as you stared at him. “Belphie, this is your fault,” you told him. Usually, your pouting was quite effective on him. But right now, with you being in his body, it didn’t have the same effect. In fact, all it did was make his head hurt.

Poor Belphie was still trying to comprehend what exactly happened.

Satan let out a slightly irritated sigh before telling you, “Solomon and I will work on the cure. Maybe the two of you should go somewhere where Lucifer won’t find you. The last thing I want is one of his lectures.”

You nodded your head and let out a yawn as you stood up and led Belphie up to the attic. 

Normally Belphie would be excited to go up to the attic with you and take a nap, but he wasn’t even the slightest bit tired right now.

You let out another yawn as Belphie sat down on the bed. You were suddenly extremely tired. The kind of tired where you felt like you would collapse if you stayed awake any longer.

You looked over at Belphie and instead of seeing your body, you simply saw a pillow. You gave him a small smile as you had a purple haze to your eyes and Belphie knew what you were feeling.

“Wait, Y/N-,” Belphie tried to say, but you didn’t give him the chance to get any other words out as you practically fell on top of him, wrapping your arms around the body as you felt yourself falling asleep.

Belphie was not enjoying a single moment of this. He couldn’t fall asleep even if he wanted to and yet you were passed out.

On top of that, you were laying on him and holding him close. He didn’t care if he was in your body, he wanted to do the same to you. This was his thing.

After a little while of laying there, Belphie felt as the two of you switched back, your positions reversing. 

You frowned as your eyes fluttered open and you said, “I was having such a good dream.” Belphie smiled at your words as he nuzzled even further into your chest. It was finally his turn.

You let out a small sigh, missing the feeling of cuddling into Belphie and instead essentially being his pillow.

Belphie seemed to sense your frustration and immediately pulled you on top of him, your leg resting over his body as your head rested in the crook of his neck.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t that bad if you were the one on top of him as long as you were in your body and as long as he still got to lay on top of you when he wanted to.

Body swapping with Belphie gave you an insight into how tired Belphie was all the time and you didn’t blame him for falling asleep often.

On the other side, it gave Belphie the insight of what it was like to be the one who was being laid on. You were so much more than a pillow to him and he would make sure that from now on you got the cuddles you wanted in addition to the ones that he wanted.

[devildomwriter]

Fill Your Hearts With Christmas Cheer | Raphael, Simeon, & Solomon x Reader

1.9k+ words | GN! Reader | Luke included platonically | CW: none

Summary ~ You and the purgatory hall gang are making ornaments but things don’t go to plan thanks to Solomon and a couple kisses.

The room smelled like a mix of cookies and burning skin as you dropped the hot glue gun again, stinging yourself for the ninth time.

“I think we need to revoke your glue gun privileges,” Solomon joked but Simeon nodded completely seriously.

“I agree. Why don’t you take a break and help Luke with the cookies?” Simeon suggested.

Raphael was quick to protest, “You want them near an oven after this?”

Simeon quickly draped a blanket over your shoulders instead, tempting you to stay seated. You sighed and held up your pinky to Simeon who gently kissed it, healing it instantly.

Raphael and Solomon glared and Simeon chuckled and set your hot chocolate next to you.

You think you’d just about had enough of hot things for now.

Apparently making ornaments wasn’t as easy as you thought. Luke got a brand new tree this year and hallmark ornaments were too expensive, so instead you, Solomon, Simeon, and Raphael collectively decided to make some.

Raphael brought out some of his less expensive fabrics and threads, Solomon collected a mixture of odd materials, some of them glowed suspiciously, and Simeon being a responsible adult had gone to the craft store to get beads, stickers, foam cutouts, glitter, and pipe cleaners.

You avoided the things that glowed but Raphael and Solomon were happy to use them and you stuck to stringing beans onto a pile cleaner to make fake candy canes. When you’d made enough you switched to cutting out foam and decorating it into different shapes, this however required your hot glue gun and it seemed to hate you.

Solomon headed you three times with a spell and Simeon and Raphael had kissed the injured area the remaining six times. Solomon was becoming upset he didn’t have an angel’s healing kiss. Luke had no idea this battle of sorts was happening in the next room.

The smell of cookies wafted more strongly in the air now as you heard the oven open.

Raphael got up to assist Luke taking them out even though the young angel was plenty used to this as well as oven “kisses” as he called them.

Simeon smiled at your current cut-out shapes of foam that remained unglued from each other.

“Is this a Santa hat?” He asked and you nodded.

“Are you putting it on a sheep?” Solomon laughed and again agreed with a big smile.

“Yes, I just need to glue it on—“

“Allow me,” Simeon intercepted your reach for the glue gun and did it himself with quick and delicate precision.

Seeing how well it turned out you decided you would give up on the glue gun, especially now that Luke was in the room. You didn’t need him to see his brothers and Solomon fighting over who got to heal your minor burn.

“Enjoy everyone!” He exclaimed and set the plated gingerbread cookies in the middle of the table.

“These look delightful, Luke.” Simeon complimented and you all reached for one.

You dropped the cookie, surprised it was still so hot.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry ___ they’re still kinda hot!”

Raphael, Solomon, and Simeon eyed each other and you quickly retracted your hand.

Luke got up from his seat and rushed over to you. He held your hand and mumbled words of healing over it, the slight heat immediately faded and you grinned.

“You’re the best Luke!” You cheered and kissed his forehead.

He blushed and pulled down his hat, “Y-yeah. It’s no problem!”

Solomon, Raphael, and Simeon appeared to sulk for a minute and inwardly scolded themselves for being jealous of a child. You snickered at their reactions and they quickly diverted their attention to the crafts.

“Oooh, who made this one!?” Luke asked as he held up a carved figure of Mary with a real cloth dress around her.

Raphael smiled and raised his hand slightly, just enough for Luke to notice and praise his hard work.

You looked at your overjoyed foam in contrast and sighed. You tried not to be jealous. After all these angels had thousands of years on you and so did the supposed human, Solomon.

Luke looked over the others and stared at yours with concern. “What smells like burnt flesh?”

You blushed and Solomon coughed to disguise a small laugh as you glared at him. This only made him laugh harder and Luke looked concerned.

“What? What happened?”

Simeon smiled somewhat sadly, “___ has had their glue gun privileges revoked,” he explained and Luke looked alarmed.

“Oh no! Are you okay, ___ you really need to be more careful! The glue gun is really hot!” He exclaimed and you turned red.

Luke may be thousands of years old but he was still a child and here you were a mildly responsible adult being told off by him for improper handling of a glue gun.

Luke quickly joined in the craft activities, excitedly kicking his feet as everyone smiled his way, focused more on him instead of their own projects.

You made more farm animals and handed them to Simeon to glue who would quickly set down what he was doing to handle it for you before you got impatient. Luke thought this was sweet but Raphael found it concerning and Solomon just snickered at you.

“What kind of ornaments are normal in the human world?” Raphael asked you after completing every single person and animal involved in the Christmas story.

“Umm well…red balls and golden balls are pretty normal. Santa is a big one of course but there are really random ones too.”

Raphael tilted his head curiously. “Oh? Like what?”

“Well, one time they were selling ornaments that looked like sticks of butter at a bookstore. There were also candy bars, beer, boots…lots of stuff.” You explained and he looked puzzled.

“And that’s…normal for Christmas in the human world?”

“Ornaments are about self-expression a lot of the time. My ornaments tell a story of my interests through the years. Things I liked as a kid to the modern day. It’s funny, almost none of it stayed the same year to year. One year was Care Bears, then NASCAR, then Starwars, that kind of thing.”

Raphael smiled at the thought. “In that case, I’d love to see your personal Christmas tree sometime, ___.”

“I’d love to show you! I almost don’t have room for some ornaments, maybe I’ll bring a few here,” you suggested and Solomon nodded.

“___’s childhood ornaments…” he mumbled to himself, his cheeks flushed pink.

“Solomon, why are you turning red?” Luke scolded and Solomon laughed it off and continued on his bizarre ornament instead.

Three hours in and you still had no idea what Solomon was trying to make. He hadn’t finished even one thing and was using most of the ominously glowing materials he’d brought.

“Solomon…your ornament is glowing…” Luke pointed out.

“Mhmm,” was all he had to say in response.

Raphael sighed at the sorcerer’s antics and about twenty minutes later you passed out.

When you woke up Raphael was leaning over you looking worried.

“Thank heavens,” he sighed and shoved his hair out of his face.

“What on earth…” you groaned and Simeon entered the room with a bottle of water.

“Well we found out why they were glowing…” he revealed and you arched a brow as you drank the water. Raphael helped prop you up, holding you in his arms. It was such a surprise you nearly choked on the water.

Simeon’s eye twitched slightly as he explained, “Those…things…were radioactive.”

You began laughing in sheer surprise. “What? Do you have any idea how radioactive something needs to be for you to pass out in its vicinity?” You gasped.

“I thought they’d be fine by now,” Solomon sighed entering the room with a large lump on the top of his head.

Luke puffed out his cheeks, upset with Solomon. He rushed to your side and hugged you. “I’m so glad you’re okay, ___!”

You sighed and rolled your eyes at the whole situation. “Honestly…I can’t even make ornaments without something happening to me…”

“That’s not your fault,” Raphael consoled, “it’s his,” he said with a strong bite to his words as he glared at Solomon.

“Whoops…” the sorcerer shrugged.

“You only lasted as long as you did because of our kisses,” Simeon sighed and Luke shot up.

“Wh-What! Your what!?”

“Oh dear,” Simeon mumbled.

“Really, Simeon…” Raphael sighed.

“Well the cats out of the bag now,” Solomon shrugged as Luke tugged on Simeon’s cape aggressively trying to get more information out of him.

You looked at Solomon who looked sincerely apologetic for once and he slowly reached into his pocket and handed you an ornament. The one he’d been working on.

“Why the f—“ You remembered Luke was next to you. “—uuuudge… would you put it near me!!” You asked him and he chuckled.

“Well, I decontaminated it so…it’s all good now.” He explained and your shoulders relaxed.

You took a good look at the ornament for the first time and smiled. Solomon had intricately placed the rocks together with bits of fabric to make the shapes of you and him together holding a sheep with a Santa hat. You chuckled and smiled at him. “Thank you Solomon… this is amazing.”

Solomon immediately brightened up, believing he was completely out of the dog house and Raphael mumbled something about it but you couldn’t make it out despite being in his arms.

Raphael reached for something behind him and handed it to you. He too had made an ornament of you and him together, both with white wings. You hugged his arms around you and thanked him sincerely. He gave you one of his small and adorably cute smiles as Solomon rolled his eyes.

Before you could set the two ornaments aside another one was placed in your hand by Simeon was a mischievous grin, a sight becoming less rare for him.

Raphael and Solomon looked surprised as you looked over his ornament. He was carrying you bridal style in this ornament and he clearly had a groom’s outfit. You snickered at how obvious he was being and thanked him through small laughs.

He tilted his head, worried you thought it was funny instead but Luke interrupted any questions he had.

“Wh-what’s wrong with you people! ___ have this! This one is normal!” Luke insisted and gave you his adorable ornament.

He’d neatly drawn the five of you on a piece of paper cut out in your shapes with foam clothing on top of you all. It was surprisingly intricate.

“Wow. Luke can use a glue gun,” Solomon said playfully and you glared at him. He laughed and Simeon held back a chuckle as you reached for Luke.

Luke ran up to you and you wrapped your arms around him and ruffled his hair.

“Don’t be jealous of a child…” you heard Solomon whisper to himself as he looked away and this time Raphael laughed, something so rare everyone looked at him in amazement.

“Sir Raphael laughed!” Luke gasped.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” you laughed and Raphael immediately stopped and sighed exasperatedly instead.

You gently set your ornaments aside and stretched your arms out inviting Solomon and Simeon in for a hug too. You made a sincere wish that moment that days like this would always continue, not just at Christmas but throughout the rest of your years.

[enwoso]

if you still need inspo, how about grumpy's first words?

BABY BABBLE — alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

it was media day at united and alessia had been busy all day taking photos in the new kit for the next and upcoming season as you sat playing around with whichever united player was free which right now was ella.

“and where’s mary?” she asked as you hummed pointing over to the goalkeeper who was wearing the brightest kit in the room it would be hard to miss her.

ella had been trying to get you to talk for some weeks now of course wanting you to say her name first. imagine her best friends reaction to her child saying her name first instead of the traditional mama.

“can you say mary” ella tried over pronouncing the word, so that each syllable could be heard properly as you just smiled and babbled away not saying anything remotely similar to what the brunette had said.

alessia had been patient with the fact you weren’t talking yet, you were still pretty young and she quite enjoyed listening to your cute little babbles. alessia had each babble translated and could understand you to know if you wanted or needed anything, she felt as though the two of you had your own little special language that only the two of you could understand.

“and where’s mama?” ella questioned her hands going out either side as she looked around confused waiting for your answer. you pointing straightaway to your mummy who was taking photos with a ball.

“mama ball” you smiled still pointed to your mum as ella gasping loudly as her mouth hung open in shock.

“wait what?” ella whispered in disbelief that you’d said your first words other than your usual baby babble.

“who is that over there?” ella repeated pointing towards alessia again who was non the wiser of what was happening with her daughter as you sat in a huddle of toys still with the same smile on your face.

“mama ball!” you said again, the mama was clear as day but ella couldn’t quite understand the second part as it sounded like ba to her but quickly her shock changed to a big celebration as she held her hand out for you to high five.

“gosh your so clever tiny!” you high fived the brunette as you heard her shouting your mummy over who came over the ball in her hand.

“watch this less!” ella smirked as alessia kneeled down the ball in front of her as the blonde was suspicious as to what was about to happen.

“ok tiny, who’s that!” ella pointed at alessia as you grinned to yourself, “mama ball!” you giggled after you said it seeing the apparent shock on your mummy’s face before in seconds she scooped you up attacking your face with kisses.

“oh my little girl” alessia pouted, it was the small moments like this when you reached another milestone that alessia wishes she could keep you this small forever as there’ll be a day where you won’t rely on your mummy as much.

you were sat on her knee playing with the football she and brought over. you repeating to yourself the word ball.

“so that’s what she meant by ba, it’s ball!” ella realised as alessia looked at her with a strange look, “what did you think she was saying?”

“well sorry i don’t speak baby babble, to me it just sounded like the noise a sheep makes!”