#he might have just been miffed I was ignoring him

[amjustagirl]

Chapter 2

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader

genre: romance, angst

wc: 2.7k

summary: you've loved soshiro since you were seven. he will always place his duty above you.

chapt 1 / chapt 2 / chapt 3 / chapt 4 / chapt 5

The first step in your mission to reclaim your heart back from Hoshina Soshiro is to ignore his texts. 

// omg my blade got chipped in a fight //  // daikaiju with a ridiculously hard shell //  // so annoying!! //  // hmph!!! // // fix it for meeeeee //

<kindly send me your request through official channels please, vice captain hoshina>

// !?!?!??!?!// // u still have indigestion???//

You really should’ve foreseen his sheer stubbornness though, considering the mountain of rejection he had to claw through to get to where he is. He springs a surprise visit on you, breaking into your lab without warning. 

“Did you seriously ask me to fill in an official form for upgrades?” he demands, miffed. 

“Record keeping purposes”, you lie through your teeth. “My boss is on my back.” 

“Your boss?!” he repeats incredulously. “Aren’t you the head of your department?” 

A department consisting only of three overworked blade specialists servicing the entirety of Japan’s Defense Force and private security forces, but he has a point. “Well, the auditors might run their checks, and how am I supposed to justify spending budget on reckless improvements that a certain vice captain demands -” 

He slings an arm over your shoulder and a crackle of electricity zips up your spine. “C’mon, don’t be silly -” 

You shrug him off, waiting nothing better than to run for the toilets to fan away the heat spreading up the column of your neck to the apples of your cheek. “Fine”, you acquiesce. “I’ll get to it - just, stop bugging me -” 

He smirks, content at getting his way. “Great, now we can grab lunch. Food here’s so much better than on base -” 

That, you can fend off. “Can’t”, you say. “Lunch with colleagues. And no, you can’t join, Hana-chan wants to cry about her ex, and you’ll make her uncomfortable if you’re there.”

He goggles at you. “Since when do you have friends besides me?” 

“Always, you rude shit”, you say, though really, you’ve just been putting in more effort in being more social at work. “Now, get out.” 

At last, he leaves, so you can reset your heart to its factory settings. You fix his katanas and send it back via courier, when previously you might have delivered it to the base yourself as an excuse to see him again.

The next step is to find something else to preoccupy you. 

You sign up for pottery lessons on Sunday afternoons, which clashes directly with when Soshiro gets the majority of his time off. You aim to slaughter two birds with a single stroke, an excuse to avoid him coupled with a hobby for you that has nothing to do with him. 

It comes naturally to you, since you’re accustomed to using your hands and handling heat to create things, even if it’s usually steel, not soft clay. But it’s different when you do it for fun, for yourself. Blades can be beautiful, but your focus when hammering at them has always been its function, not form, so it’s a welcome change to just create things for its beauty. 

You make cups and bowls for your colleagues (now friends), a set of sake cups for your parents in a rust-red glaze. Your proudest creation is a tea set that you keep for yourself, displayed on the windowsill to remind you of a summer sky when it’s grey. 

Even Yamamoto-san gets a little gift since you now consider him a friend, a stone pot for a plant  he complained of having outgrown its home. He reciprocates next month with a plant for you, who he says needs a home. This you struggle with, not being born with a green thumb. You studiously research plant-rearing tips and plunk the monstera you are gifted with by your prized tea set, but it truly thrives when you bring another potted plant home. Pothos, at first, because they’re too-determined to live. Bird’s fern, for it’s graceful leaves. When you’re more confident, you top it off with azaleas, for colour, hydrangeas to match your tea set.   

(not violets, never violets)

“Huh”, you stare at the jungle on your balcony “Even plants need friends, I guess.” 

It’s still little too soon to put yourself out there on the dating apps and start searching in the radioactive waste pool of the Tokyo dating scene when your heart is still tethered to Hoshina Soshiro. Any willpower you have to stay away is shaken when you hear that Soshiro’s been assigned a numbers weapon, especially after hearing whispers in the lab that testing has been going terribly. You ask permission to be on base to watch one testing session yourself as a weapons technician. The Numbers Weapon 10 has a mind of its own, and it keeps clashing with Soshiro, causing their test results to be abysmally low. 

“Will he be safe?” you question Okonogi-san, the overworked third base operations leader. 

“If he doesn’t get his numbers up with the weapon, I doubt he’ll be allowed to wear it out on the field”, she shrugs. 

You slip away before he’s released from testing grounds. 

// did u srsly come to base //  // and not say hi!?!??! //  // i haven’t seen ur face in forever // 

<super bz, sorry!!> 

It’s the truth. Despite your pledge to carve out more space to live a life that yours, you make an exception, burning hours on a new weapon to match the volatile Numbers weapon that by all reports, only wants to be worn by Soshiro. Anyone who knows anything about Soshiro knows of his preference for twin blades, ‘cos it makes me look cool’, he jokes, so no one will anticipate a single katana as a backup weapon. 

// ty for the katana //  // it’s q cool //  // ok, v v cool //  // wld be cooler if you dropped by to say hi //  // free this weekend? //

You take a train all the way back to Osaka to visit your parents instead, lest he take it upon himself to commit larceny by breaking into your apartment. You don’t put it past him, since he has the combination to your front lock - his birthday, that’s another thing you need to change. 

“How’s Yamamoto-san?” your mother asks, none too subtly. 

You know your parents are proud of both you and your older brother for following the family’s traditions, and you’re lucky they’re progressive enough to encourage it even in you, but they’re of the age where they’re starting to long for grandchildren. Your older brother’s wedding scheduled for next year should distract them for now, but they’ll soon look to replicate their success with you. 

“He’s pretty nice, but I don’t think he’s the one”, you reply.

Your mother’s lips purse. “Are you still hung up on that Hoshino boy?” 

You’re stung into silence, your mother’s directness catching you off-guard. She tsks at you, pouring you tea that’s bitter from being steeped too long. 

“I’m not - that’s not -” 

Her gaze is sharper than any blade you’ve ever made. “Don’t insult me by lying.” 

“Ka-san. It’s hard but I’m trying to get over it- gods, it’s so embarrassing to say this aloud in front of my own mother -”

She sniffs imperiously. “Try harder.”

“Will do”, you reply dryly. “I’ll just walk into the nearest combini and pick up the first guy they have sitting on the shelf, shall I?” 

She raps your knuckles with her chopsticks. “Don’t be insolent”, she clucks. “Hoshina Soshiro -” 

“I know, ‘ka-san”, you interrupt, the wound still raw under its scabbing. “You don’t have to say it.” 

“Hm.” 

It’s too difficult to meet your mother’s eyes, so you’re glad when she bustles off to the kitchen. A plate is shoved under your nose, oranges, painstakingly peeled, apples, perfectly sliced. 

“There’ll be mangoes if you come back next week”, your mother says. 

“That’ll be nice”, you smile. 

The next step is the hardest, the part you fear the most. 

Soshiro insists on seeing you. There’s no excuse he accepts, not after forty two calls and unread messages. Initially you toyed with changing the combination on your front door to keep him out, but you’re certain he’ll stand outside and cause a ruckus until you let him in.

He’s waiting in your apartment when you return from class. “Okairie”, he grounds out, jaw set. “It’s nice to see you again.” 

There’s no point running. He’ll catch up with you within seconds anyway. 

You drop your bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. “It’s nice to see you too”, you reply, skirting around his palpable annoyance. “Are you staying for dinner? I can make curry rice - ”

“I wanna know why you’ve been ignoring me.”

You plaster on a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”, you hedge. “I mean, I’ve been busy at work, you’ve been busy at work - I’ve been picking up new hobbies -”

“Which I’d know, if you talked to me in the past three months -” 

“I’ve really been too busy, haven’t had the chance -” 

“Nonsense”, he scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t know that you dropped by base without saying hi -” 

“Pretty sure you were too busy tussling with that new combat suit  -” 

“You didn’t even bother to lunch with me the last time I came to your office -” 

“I was busy working on your weapon, which I don’t hear you complaining about -” 

You stop short when he takes you by your shoulders. You smell coffee and steel, a scent that just so Soshiro, that it makes your heart forget to beat. He’s close, far too close that you can see the dying sun-gold illuminating the violet iris of his eyes. You squeak as he tips your chin up, calloused fingers so painfully gentle as he meets your gaze. “Are you sure we’re okay?”, he asks softly. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Other than torturing your heart by being within your vicinity? 

Shaking your head, you take a large step back. “All good”, you splutter, ears on fire. 

He doesn’t give you a chance to hide, shouldering into your space. “Somehow I don’t believe you”, he pinches your cheek. “Spill it. Stop lyin’.” 

The pieces of your heart are stitched together with fragile threads, but his presence makes your heart slam itself against your ribcage over and over again. You are powerless from stopping it from falling apart again. 

“You can eat my entire tub of chestnut ice cream -” 

“Stop tryin’ to distract me.” He leans in, almost nose to nose with you, the curve of his mouth so dangerously close to your lips that your heart chooses this precise moment to combust. “Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.” 

Courage has never been your strong suit, but you owe it to Soshrio to be brave enough to be honest that it’s not him, never him that made you run and hide. It’s your traitorous heart at blame. Plus, you figure, when he turns you down, perhaps it’ll finally deprive your heart of any lingering hopes it harbours, so you can finally, finally reclaim ownership of your heart. 

Your lungs claw for air. 

“It’s not anything you did”, you whisper. “I just wanted more than what you probably ever thought to give.” 

His brows pinch together in confusion. 

“It’s just - I know you’re busy doing big things in the Defense Force and you probably never have time in between killing a million kaijus to consider anything outside of work, and I know that you’ve never given any indication that you see me more than just a friend, cos really, I know where I stand -” 

“You’re rambling.” He shakes you. “You’re not making any sense.” 

You close your eyes. 

(plunge a knife into your chest, carve it out whilst it's still beating, still bleeding)

“I like you, Soshiro-kun”, you say. “Not just as a friend, in case that wasn’t clear enough.” 

“Oh.”

It’s a simple word with exactly one syllable, but it does the job. He stares at you, slack jawed. His reaction twists the knife deeper into your belly. You clutch the counter for balance, prevent yourself from doubling over, spilling your guts on your kitchen floor. “I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship so I’ve just been kinda distant. I needed - I needed space. Just to get over it. I’m sorry if I worried you.” 

He still doesn’t respond. 

“Soshiro -” 

He looks up and you read only pity in his gaze. “I’m sorry -”

Your hurt pride will not allow you to let him see you fall apart. “Can we attack that tub of ice cream now”, you interrupt. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore.” 

“Right”, he says after a long pause, face carefully blank. “Ice cream.” 

You spend the rest of the evening eating ice cream and decidedly avoiding his gaze while chattering away about everything and nothing at all, papering over any awkwardness in a desperate attempt to pretend you don’t care that you’ve just killed any chance you’ve had at keeping your friendship intact. He’s almost silent save for some mmhms and grunts to indicate he’s still listening, so unlike his usual talkative replate with a joke in hand. You too, cannot put up with this charade anymore, so you feign tiredness, just to cut this ordeal short. 

“Stay safe”, you remind him. “Don’t get eaten by a kaiju.” 

“Yeah”, he replies. 

He doesn’t say seeya later, as he usually does. You’re unsurprised by that. 

Your phone remains empty of any new messages from him. 

In the initial aftermath, you drown yourself in work to overcompensate for your wandering mind and wishful heart. All tweaks to his weaponry are done purely through official channels, as you previously requested. He doesn’t even text you a thanks when you stay up working on changes to his blades. Not that you’ve ever felt entitled to his gratitude. It’s just your job - one that you’ve decided to take up because your seven year old self lost her heart to him, but really, that’s on you, not him. 

There are no spontaneous lunchtime visits, not even when you make updates to his brother’s tech. He doesn’t drop by your apartment the next time he’s off-duty, nor he does ask you to accompany him to another overpriced dessert cafe, not even when the gingko trees in Tokyo turn yellow, marking the season for every store to have a mont blanc special which you know he’d be weak for. 

This is good, you tell yourself. 

It hurts less than you expected. Of course it splits open your stitched-closed wounds to hear him say in your face what you already knew, that Hoshina Soshiro will never love you, not in this lifetime or the next. You allow yourself a few lonely nights to wallow in self-pity, spend a weekend facedown on your bed, stifling your screams into your pillow.  You might have lost your footing momentarily, slipped down a ravine of despair, but with a few weeks’ grace, you start to claw your way out of the ravine of despair. 

You will find your footing, find a way to get over him, live a life without Hoshina Soshiro by your side. 

You will. You will. 

It will become easier. You find contentment sitting on your balcony by yourself as the evenings grow cooler, leaves catching in the breeze, a meal you cooked for yourself on your lap. You throw yourself headfirst into pottery classes, where all you focus on is the feel of soft clay melting into your hands. Between work, your hobbies and weekend visits home, you don’t give yourself time to think about anything or anyone else anymore. 

Weeks pass. 

You catch a glimpse of him on the office TV as you clock in for work. Though you almost always turn it off right away, lest your heart believe it can find its way back to him, you make an exception today when the TV starts to blare about some daikaiju appearing, one after another across Japan, the third division  deploying to a location not too far away from you. 

 <stay safe>

 <don’t be eaten by a kaiju>

 <eat ‘em for brekkie instead>

The building starts to shake. 

You put your phone away. Your co-workers surround the screen, yelling about evacuations and contingencies. You start to head down towards the forge, determined to save as much of your handiwork as you can. Soshiro and the rest of the swordsmen in the Defense Force will need whatever you can save. 

a/n: manga spoilers from the next chapt onwards, read at your own risk! also, am off riding in mongolia til the 20th - next chapter out after - pls lmk what you guys think in the meantime ;)

[bloody-cupcakes]

omg wait what about dark reader play fighting with jd until you have him pinned to like the bed or something and teasing him when he starts to get turned on?

I think I'm starting to make the reader meaner and meaner with each one of these asks, and I don't even feel bad about it. Also I had to cut jump the scene to right after they started play fighting because I have no idea how to write that honestly 😭

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, noncon/dubcon elements, heavily suggestive, play fighting, brief grinding, mean reader (they make fun of JD for being horny), swearing, JD's a little bit of a pervert in this one

"Aha, got you!"

A proud grin was on your face as you successfully pinned JD down to the bed. He seemed a little miffed about "losing", only agreeing to do this in the first place because he thought for sure he'd win.

"Yeah, great," he grumbled with an eye roll, squirming slightly at the way your hands were holding down his wrists. "Now get off."

"Wait a minute-"

He scoffed in annoyance at your refusal to move right away, starting to feel more and more frustrated by the second. As you would soon come to find, that wasn't the only thing he was feeling currently.

"-dude, are you hard right now?"

He felt his face heat up at your question, trying to ignore just how much the answer was clearly yes. He could feel it, and now you could feel it, too.

But he didn't want to admit it, so he decided to lie through his teeth instead. "N- no..."

"You sure about that?" You smirked while pressing your knee further into his crotch, feeling the way his cock seemed to jolt forward and stiffen up in his pants at the action.

"St- stop-" He mumbled as he turned his head away, avoiding your gaze while his cheeks flushed bright red.

"Oh my God, you are." A sudden laugh erupted from your throat the moment you realized just how aroused he was, which did nothing but make him feel more embarrassed.

"S- shut up! It's not funny!" He tried to protest, the scowl he had on his lips immediately falling away when your knee forcefully rubbed against his groin.

It was now your turn to roll your eyes at him and the way he was acting. "Oh, don't be such a baby. You're fine."

"I- I'm serious, knock it off-" He tried to push you off him but you had firmly planted your body on top of his, your hands still pinning down his wrists at his sides.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" You openly mocked, giving him a look of feigned fear. "Oh no, I'm so scared."

The embarrassment he felt about the current situation was quickly beginning to give way to another emotion he was much more well acquainted with: rage.

"Yeah, you know what? I just might."

If it had been anyone else, they would've gotten off him immediately. Hell, if it had been anyone else they wouldn't even risk play fighting with him to begin with.

But you weren't just anyone else, meaning you weren't scared of him, so despite the glare he was staring up at you with you did the exact opposite of what someone else might do and ignored him.

"Y'know, if I had of known you'd get so worked up over something as simple as play fighting-" you leaned down closer so that your face was mere inches away from his "-I would've done this a long time ago."

"Fuck you," he spit out angrily through gritted teeth as he tried his best not to give in to the arousal that was coursing through his body.

Merely shrugging, you responded calmly with, "Well, I mean, if you insist. I wasn't planning on going any further here, but if you really want to-"

Starting to become sick and tired of your teasing, he attempted to push you off him for a second time. Unlike when he first tried to do it, it actually worked, but that was only because you willingly let go.

You snickered in delight at his red face and heavy breathing, watching as he tried to pull himself together between all the dirty looks he shot you. It was clear you weren't worried or bothered by his anger from the way you casually leaned back, relaxing as you rested your hands behind your head.

"The next time you get hard from me being that close to you, I'll force you to cum in your pants for being such a dirty little pervert."

JD had no idea whether your words were meant to be a threat or a promise, and although he knew he should feel offended by them he couldn't help the shiver of pleasure that ran down his spine.

He could only hope you hadn't been able to tell how he did actually cum in his pants, which was why he shoved you off him in the first place.

If you knew just how difficult it was for him to be close to you without getting a hard-on, you'd never let him live it down.

[rae-writes]

don’t mind me~

om brothers x poly!reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : nsfw

synopsis : why should you keep your hands to yourself if you’re dating all 7 of them?

a/n : I was basking in slutty vibes while writing this and I enjoyed it. Requested by @your-next-daydream​ 

It’s such a simple touch— the brush of your fingers over his own. Featherlight in nature, he can hardly feel it through the cloth of his gloves, making him grow antsy with the lack of real touch. Lucifer’s gaze cuts down at you, but you’re not deterred by it- you never are. It only fuels you to bite at the glove and yank it off with your teeth. By now, the conversation the first born was trying so hard to keep steady had dwindled as he focused more and more of his attention on the way your tongue poked out to lap at the pad of his thumb. It truly was a mesmerizing sight, one he would’ve knelt down to see; too bad you simply nibbled on the digit before leaving him scrambling to remember what he was talking about beforehand. 

Mammon liked the fact that you could always cut his lectures in half when you did this but fuck…you look so good doing it, he can’t help but trace your lips with a jealous growl afterwards

Levi could only watch through his fingers at how sensual the action was and he hoped you didn’t feel how much he was shaking when you held his hand later that day  

It was funny to Satan- how much Lucifer could lose his composure when you toyed with him. Don’t get the blonde wrong though, you’ll have to show him what that feels like too

What a deviant, Mc! Asmo fawns over how pretty you looked during your little stunt and winks at his brother; he didn’t even have to teach you that one 

Beel just smiles at you, especially if he was being scolded for emptying the fridge again. Oh- he’s blushing? Well, you can’t blame him..you looked really pretty you know? 

Belphie, too, likes how flustered Lucifer can get. What he doesn’t like is how you’re keeping eye-contact and smiling at the first born…you know you’re Belphie’s, right?

The snow haired demon has always been easy to fluster, especially when he’s interrupted mid-sentence by your hands trailing up his shirt. Mammon startles, words dying in his throat when your nails press into the skin of his abs— he wants to play it off, to tease you about how of course you couldn’t keep your hands off The Mammon, but he just can’t think properly. His mouth opens only to let out a gasp as your fingers graze his nipples and he can feel his head spinning when you scratch your way back down to his abdomen. Whoever he was talking to is long forgotten- Mammon could’ve been winning millions in the casino and he wouldn’t give a damn, so long as you kept your hands on him- fuck his fucking conversation. 

Lucifer should scold you for interrupting his lecture, he really should- but you’re so spoiled… maybe he’ll just let you have your fun with Mammon for as long as you desire

Levi! Is! Jealous! Why does his stupid brother get to feel your touch like that? Why’d you have to do it in front of him? It’s not fair! 

Satan couldn’t care less, though he’s a bit miffed that he’s being ignored now. He thinks you spoil that oaf too much- why him of all demons? 

Asmo just laughs and laughs- then laughs some more. Mammon’s facial expressions have always been funny; Asmo thinks it’s cute he still tries to deny how he feels even now

Beel didn’t notice at first- he was concerned Mammon had a fever- but then you began laughing, eliciting a few snickers out of Beel once he finally realized what was happening 

Belphie was half-asleep during Mammon’s ramble, but hearing your teasing tone makes his eyes snap open. Well, well, well. Why don’t you play with him instead, hmm?

The third born already didn’t want to be there being held up by a random conversation when he could be playing his new game- and now he really didn’t want to be there because if you kept mouthing at his neck he thinks he might actually combust. Your hot breath sent shivers across his body, the light trace of your tongue against his jugular making his knees weak, and when your teeth pressed against his pulse…Levi was latching onto you like a lifeline. Embarrassed whimpers escaped him but not once did he ask you to stop. If you stopped he wouldn’t know what he’d do— the conversation was already at the back of his mind and now you’ve invaded his every sense so please don’t pull away. 

Lucifer chuckles, entirely amused by the devilish smirk plastered across your face. Poor Levi, he’ll laugh, but he doesn’t really mean it as he takes his D.D.D out to snap a picture for the gc 

Mammon is howling with laughter. He knows he’s always getting flustered so watching Levi get hit with it too just makes his day. Wipes a tear away- still laughing- and high fives you as he leaves 

Satan tries to hide his smirk, looking at you in amusement. He’ll actually turn the conversation over to you, making Levi shrivel in embarrassment because now the two of you are talking like nothing’s happening!

Asmo thinks it’s so cute! Your adorable smug expression and Levi’s cherry hued face is just too good to miss out on. He’s whipping out his phone to take a picture too, though he’s posting this one on Devilgram 

Beel has no trouble keeping the conversation going- he’s just used to a flustered Levi. Though when you start chomping down on his neck, Beel snickers at his brother’s expense 

Belphie, again, was half-asleep and didn’t realize until he heard Levi’s strangled noises. He cracks an eye open, meeting your gaze, and flushes when you wink at him. Move over, Levi! Belphie wants a turn

You acted as if you were trying to be discreet, but the smirk on your face showed otherwise as you slowly rocked your hips over his. Satan inhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the book in his hands. He wanted to shoo away whoever was in the room quickly, but he wouldn’t dare open his mouth in fear of letting out a moan. The previous conversation was nonexistent now- Satan’s clenched jaw left no room for audible words but the feel of you rubbing against him elicited low growls that told you all you needed to know. The ripped page left in his hand from the force of his grip screamed at him, though it wasn’t as loud as the urge to chase after you when you bolted from the room with a laugh. 

Lucifer is desperately trying to keep his composure so he doesn’t have to deal with Satan’s wrath, but it gets harder the more you keep provoking the younger. He actually flees with you when the page rips, bouts of laughter rolling from his chest 

A smirk is practically glued to Mammon’s face- he loves seeing the others get a taste of your teasing. Though, because it’s Satan, he takes a couple steps back to he can freely laugh without getting hit (bolts when that page rips)

Levi is so fidgety and blushy. All he’s thinking about is what if you did that to him while he was gaming?! Fuck, that sounds hot…stupid Satan! It’s not fair he gets the experience first!

Asmo is snickering behind his phone, dodging and weaving as Satan’s tail tries to swat at him. He thinks the fiery blush on the fourth born’s face is just priceless and he needs to show the others. And if the pictures accidentally get sent to the other four as well, then…oops.

The quiet crunching coming from Beel halts as he admires your boldness. Go, Mc! Look at you being a menace. He thinks he might’ve chuckled a few times, but Satan’s glare shut him up- though he kept the amused smile

Belphie is in Levi’s boat : he wants you to move like that on him (preferably as a way of waking him up). He actually lets the conversation die out too while he tries to think of a way to snatch you up- but when Satan’s page rips, he takes it as initiative to run away with you and keep you to himself

Asmo thinks it’s not fair. It’s not fair how much he’s fumbling over his words at just the brush of your lips over his ear. It’s not fair he’s choking up in his conversation when your hand slips in his pants. It’s certainly not fair how hot you’re making him feel, like you are the demon avatar of lust and not him. Asmo tries to ignore it, to play it off, and laugh at your attempts, but a single curl of your finger inside of him sends his knees buckling in defeat. His previous conversation could not be any less relevant than it is now; as you abuse that special spot of his, soft chuckle swirling around in his head, he actually believes he’s been sent back to the celestial realm. 

[surprised pikachu face] just when did you become so bold, Mc? Lucifer is actually kind of impressed you’re going that far during his conversation…maybe he’ll teach you a lesson after

Mammon can’t even look at you, and if he could turn off his ears, he would. What’re ya doin?! He’s tryna talk here! He was yer first anyway! Stop that! 

Haha…oh, just ignore the Levi-shaped lump on the floor. He’s fine. Probably. (Mans is embarrassed!! When did you get so bold and why would you make him watch that?! He can’t handle it!)

Satan admires your boldness, but he swears to Diavolo, if Asmo starts getting loud, he’s gonna shove this book down his throat— but don’t worry, Mc, you continue as you please 

Beel’s face turns pink and he starts to shift his weight around. When you grin at him, he beams back, forgetting that his brother is basically melting in front of him. Oops. 

When? Will? It? Be? His? Turn?! Belphie is jealous and he will throw a fit about it. Mocks all of Asmo’s sounds and smirks when it makes you laugh- he’s ruthless

Beel’s polite as he tries to keep the conversation going- despite his face reddening by the second. You’re practically hidden behind his large frame, but he can still see your wandering hands at the bottom of his peripheral vision, working over the growing bulge in his pants. His words turn breathless the longer he tries to pretend nothing’s happening, eyebrows furrowing when you add pressure to your touch. Your head finally peeks out from behind him, eyes peering up with an innocent sparkle that makes his own widen and his mind scream ‘liar!’. Your body curls around his leg just enough so your tongue can lick a stripe up the imprint of his clothed cock. The action elicits a sharp gasp-growl from his throat and as he watches you hop up and saunter away, he can’t even remember what the hell he was talking about. 

Lucifer can see you out of his peripherals and just shakes his head at your antics. Really, Mc? Just what is he going to do with you?...pff- no, he’s not laughing. Not at all.

If he’s honest, Mammon did not even see you at first. He was too focused on the conversation, but when he did catch your hands wanderin around, he blushed. Hard. H-he’s tryna t-talk here, ya know?! …maybe you could do that to him sometime..?

Levi is doing his best interpretation of a tomato and he’s doing it well. The third born is dying in his spot and he’d ascend if you ever did something like that to him- critical hit!

Satan admires Beel for trying to keep the conversation going, but once he sees you peek out from behind his brother, he focuses on your little smug expression instead, chuckling when you run off. Menace.

Asmo saw you coming before you even crouched down behind his brother. And he was silently squealing at your boldness- and when you came around front to lick at Beel? Ooh, darling, you’re giving him goosebumps!

Belphie has one of his irritating smirks spread across his face, making his twin whine about him ‘being mean’. You can’t blame him though, look at the blush on Beel’s face! Ha! Wait…no, why are you looking at him like that- why are you getting closer?! Wait-!

When Belphie tugged you into the conversation, he was hoping you’d take over so he didn’t have to talk. Instead, all he got was a sly grin. Your hands were tame as they smoothed out his sweater, buttoning and unbuttoning, but he started to fidget when they slid upwards. Belphie couldn’t decide if he wanted to tell you to hurry the fuck up and do something or to quit your shit; he didn’t have to. Not when the words lodged in his throat as your hand wrapped around it. Your middle finger rubbed circles over his pulse point, thumb pulling back to trail down his Adam's apple. He found himself being unable to speak even after you'd let go, glaring at your retreating figure for making him feel this way. 

The narrowed eyes with the dangerous smirk look? Yeah, that’s the way Lucifer’s watching this go down. Finds it refreshing seeing you put his youngest brother in his place- please, Mc, do continue. 

Mammon snorts, grinning sharply at the dark irony of it. You look so good, it’s actually just unfair- not to sound like another brother of his - but shit, Mc…him next? Please?

Levi has a full on anime ‘holy shit’ moment. Then he cracks up laughing, pointing at how Belphie’s face turned bright red (rather than his for once). He wishes he would’ve snapped a picture…will bring this up at dinner

Satan hides his amused smirk well, choosing instead to counter more questions at his brother, knowing it’ll piss him off since the fourth born can obviously see what’s happening. But he’d never irritate him on purpose, of course not.

Unlike his brother who was too busy laughing, Asmo will and is taking a picture of Belphie’s reaction and he absolutely sends it to all your friends. Hm? Oh! Why, yes, he’s the one that convinced you to put it as your lock screen. What about it?

It honestly goes over Beel’s head at first- that is, until his twin starts blushing. Then Beel starts blushing and shuffling his weight around when he notices you’re staring at him…oh- oh that’s your hand sliding up his chest…oh.

[apomaro-mellow]

Family Planning 5

Part 4

“You’re shitting me”, Eddie said, Kimberly on his hip. “You’re trying to use basketball to get out of your share?”

“I’m not trying to get out of my share. I’ll still watch it when I have time.”

“Her.”

“Her”, Steve amended with a roll of his eyes. “But this has gotta take priority sometimes. Unless you want her all by herself on the bleachers.”

It was easy for Eddie to imagine their little sack of joy being knocked over by a ball, powdery contents spilling out. Yeah, that wasn’t gonna fly.

“Or”, Steve adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. “You could always just come to practice.”

“And what? Cheer you on with some pom poms? I’ll pass”, Eddie said. He and Harrington might be on better terms than at the beginning of the year, but that didn’t mean he’d suddenly gotten a heaping dose of school spirit.

And so basketball started with tryouts. Steve could tell Tommy and some of the others wanted to comment on him and Eddie, but thankfully they mostly kept it to themselves. Eddie took the bag on nights Steve had practice, which meant their schedule had to change a bit. Eddie tried not to be too miffed about the sudden wrench throwing. It meant that sometimes little Kimmy was sitting on his lap as the Hellfire Club convened for a night of merrymaking.

“Hey”, Gareth said on one such night, eyeing Eddie as he bobbed the bag on his knee like an actual fussy child. “I thought you were supposed to be like the perfect family.”

“You got something to say about my parenting methods?”, Eddie asked, eyebrow raised.

“I think the last time anyone saw all…three of you together was a while ago”, Gareth said.

“Yeah, you guys are more like a divorced couple where each parent has custody”, Jeff pointed out.

Eddie gasped and covered Kimberly’s imaginary ears. “How dare you insinuate that my pup is in a loveless marriage?”

“We call ‘em like we see ‘em”, Grant said.

“It’s not like we’re gonna go out of our way to hang out together.” Eddie ran in different circles than Steve, no reason for a project to change all of that. Still, he considered his declaration to the principal. And what would a loving husband do but dote on their lover just as well as their child? 

Eddie tries bringing it up slyly when they’re together next, Eddie leaning with his shoulder against the locker next to Steve’s.

“Sooooo, when’s your first game?”

“This Friday. If you wanna know when you’ll be on watch duty, there are schedules in the office.”

“Good to know, good to know”, Eddie nodded, asking no further questions.

---------------------

Steve tied his shoes and got into the headspace for the game. He felt only a little bad about leaving their project to Eddie more than they originally intended, but what could he do? Maybe if they won tonight, he’d offer to take care of it both Saturday and Sunday. He and the rest of the team came out of the locker room to start their warm up drills and that’s when he heard it.

“Wave hi to Daddy!”

Steve looked up to see Eddie in the stands, holding their pretend pup in the air. 

“Look alive Harrington!”

“Ughf!” Steve got a pass to the stomach that he quickly caught on the bounce and shot back. He jogged over to where Eddie was. “What’re you doing here?”

“What’s it look like we’re doing?”, Eddie batted his lashes. “Kimberly should see what her papa’s been training for and how important it is to him. It’s important to share your accomplishments with your child.”

“Ah, so this is all pretend? You’re playing at being interested in sports”, Steve said. “Do you even know the rules?”

“Ball in hoop makes crowd go aaahhhhh”, Eddie said flatly.

“There’s more to it than that.”

“Harrington! Game’s about to start!”

“You’re needed on stage Mr. Harrington”, Eddie grinned.

Steve jogged over to his team’s bench, trying to forget that Eddie was over there entirely. But it was hard to. It was nearly impossible to ignore him once he knew he was there. He thought it would put him off his game. And yet the opposite happened. Knowing that someone was watching him, hoping that he’d win meant something. His parents weren’t even here to say, out of town for the weekend.

And despite his put-upon attitude, Eddie’s cheers when he scored sounded genuine, able to be heard over the others. When Steve put the final basket in with a blessed five seconds left on the clock, the first thing he did wasn’t to turn to his teammates, but to look for Eddie in the crowd. Eddie was shaking that bag of flour to almost a worrying degree, but Steve would forgive him. 

He got pats on the backs from his teammates but right after he went over to Eddie. 

“Look at you, tiger”, Eddie smiled.

“Did you lose your voice?”, Steve asked, noticing a roughness there.

“Just short of it. That’ll teach me to try and do a crammed in mini session right before this.” To Eddie’s surprise though - worth it. Steve hadn’t smiled this openly at him before. And his scent was in full force, sweat glistening on his body. 

“PARTY AT HARRINGTON’S!”, someone shouted, leading to more cheers.

“See you there?”, Steve said with a wink before hitting the showers.

---------------------

Eddie’s done house calls before, usually for parties. But it was often just holing up in his car while people bought from him. Sometimes he ventured into the house just to claim a corner. Either way, he kept to himself. This would be his first time entering on a real invitation. Not just anyone’s. Steve’s. High school royalty.

Eddie had waited in the parking lot just in case Steve wanted a ride to his own house only to see him being mobbed around by the rest of the team all the way up until he got to Hagan’s car. That only made sense. He tried not to feel too disappointed as they sped off together. Steve was still expecting him. He’d still be welcomed if he went.

Part 6

Taglist

@marklee-blackmore @aol19 @im-really-annoying @ellietheasexylibrarian @queenie-ofthe-void

@redfreckledwolf @lololol-1234 @cuntyfiedcatholicbisaster

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

What if Crowley(spn) had a kid and the Winchester’s almost kill them? What would/how Crowley do/react and what would the Winchester’s do?🤔

That’s My Goddamn Daughter!

Team Free Will x cambion!reader

When Castiel locates another cambion, potentially with the power to kill a knight of hell, he and the Winchesters go after her but then Crowley shows up claiming she’s his daughter.

Warnings:  MOC Dean, mentions of rape but really just misunderstandings, blood, concussions, I have no medical knowledge, swearing, reader gets knocked out a lot lol

WC: 2.2k

A/N: I kind of want to do a part 2 to this. What do you guys think?

Minors DNI

“I’m sorry what? Can you repeat that?” Castiel sighed, slightly exacerbated. He thought he explained the situation pretty well. Dean’s eyes were wide in both shock and disbelief and Sam just looked exhausted.

“Like I said before, there is another cambion in existence and she could be the answer to the Mark.” Dean swallowed the last of his now warm beer and glowered at the angel.

“And you didn’t think to tell us this before now?”

“Dean.” Sam started but the elder held up his hand to stop him. Cas sighed, mentally preparing himself for a classic Dean tirade that always seemed to come when he presented the brothers with a new lead.

“You’re hiding things from us, lying. How do we even know if this so-called cambion is the real deal? Why didn’t she show up before?” The angel’s eyes rolled, why did they have such trouble understanding?

“There was a spell concealing her from the angels’ view but for some reason, that spell is now gone. I assumed it was tied to someone in her family, possibly the parent that was a demon. But now, that demon is dead so the spell is gone.” Sam seemed to accept that answer but Dean was more skeptical.

“So what do we do if we do find this girl? Just ask her to come back with us for tea and cake? She most likely knows that daddy dearest was a demon and might want revenge and we are probably the ones that did it or we know them. So what then?” 

Sam leaned against the war room table beside his brother. “Dean’s right. Remember that kid Jesse, he had a whole town under his thumb without even thinking about it and he was just a kid. What could an adult with an obviously powerful parent do?” Dean nodded along and Cas had the distinct urge to smite them both.

“We need to take that chance. She might be our best shot at killing Cain without the First Blade.” Dean huffed, still clearly miffed at being so blatantly brushed off by the angel. 

“Alright fine but you can’t get mad at me when I say I told you so when this inevitably goes wrong.” He shrugged and Cas smirked slightly, happy to get his way.

——————

“Well that was easier than expected.” Dean sulked, sitting on the motel room bed pouting like a child. The woman had been easy to find, in fact it was too easy. She was a goddamn librarian in a small town where everyone knew her face.

No locks on her doors, no weapons in the house. She welcomed them in with open arms after Sam fed her their story of being lost and needing directions. She gave them pie and lemonade, answering every question they asked, including Dean’s flirtatious ask about a boyfriend.

Her head dipped and she avoided eye contact as she shyly replied that no, she didn’t have a boyfriend. Sam smacked Dean upside the head for that when she wasn’t looking. Cas, getting sick of the circling conversation mixed with too much human lust, had stepped forward and knocked her out with his grace.

He caught her soft body as she crumpled, ignoring the pointed looks the brothers sent him. “She would’ve come willingly.” Sam pointed out but Cas replied with a simple, “There isn’t enough time for you two to ‘convince’ her.”

Sam blushed and Dean just smirked, too proud of himself. They quickly smuggled her out to the car and started the long journey home. Now, they were taking a break for the night and Dean watched as the girl slept on, blissfully unaware of everything going on in the world.

“She really doesn’t seem demonic. She’s just-“

“Nice.” Dean finished his brother’s sentence for him, saying the word like it disgusted him. “Are you sure she’s the half-breed we want?” Again, Castiel was questioning why his destiny was intertwined with the Winchesters. Y/N shifted in her sleep, curling up on her side cutely, giving out a large sigh.

Cas stood at the foot of the bed, intensely watching the men who flanked her on both sides, like guards watching over their ward. “I can sense her power, it is far greater than any other cambion. Her blood has old magic in it, she is quite possibly descended from a natural witch.”

Sam froze, his entire body going stiff with surprise. “I’m sorry, so this girl is a product of a natural witch and a demon.” Cas shook his head, arms crossing over his chest.

“No, the magic is too deluded for the witch to be her mother or father, it is more likely that it is her grandparent.” Sam’s eyes flicked down to the girl, somehow already feeling incredibly protective of her. She was by far the kindest person he had met in a very long time, how could she have such evil in her blood? But he was wary, both because of her power and the fear of what could happen should she succumb to that power. He knew that feeling, that rush from demon blood, how addicting it could be.

Dean could feel the heat radiating from her body as she rolled closer to him. The mark was quiet around her, soothed like a feral cat getting love for the first time in its life. But how dark could she get, what was she capable of? And who in the hell was her demonic parent?

“We should keep moving. If we found her so quick, there’s no telling who else would be coming after her.” Cas nodded and fluttered away, presumably to ensure that no demons had followed them.

Dean moved away from her as quickly as he could, a curling in his gut making him feel like he should be repulsed by her but her presence also called to him. He fished a half-drunk bottle of whiskey from  his duffle bag and settled himself in the chair in the far corner of the room. “Get some shut eye, I’ll take first watch.”

Sam pulled a ratty blanket over top of her, careful to not wake her and took a seat on the other bed. “Do you think this could work?” Silence settled over the brothers.

“It’s our only shot.” And with that, Sam settled back against the thin pillows, keen to get any rest he could to escape his swirling thoughts.

——————

A rattling woke Dean from his alcohol induced slumber. With a groan, he lifted his head from the back of the chair he had accidentally fallen asleep on. His neck screamed in pain but that was nothing compared to the throbbing in his arm.

The mark burned and the rattling became louder. His green eyes fluttered open, only able to see vague shapes in the dark room. A shadow stood by the door, their hand on the knob, desperately trying to open it. “Please please please.” Her voice was filled with tears and a panic that made his heart lurch in his chest.

“Sweetheart.” The sound of his own voice made her work even faster at trying to open the door, but it was of no use. She screamed and Dean bolted forward. Moving faster than even he could comprehend, he grabbed her, wrapping a large palm over her mouth to keep her from making any more noise.

Her back hit the mattress with an exhale of air through her nose. Her eyes were wide with panic, her breathing quickening becoming erratic as his muscular body settled between her plump thighs, shoving her skirt up her legs. She tried to grab at Dean’s shoulders to shove him off but using his free hand he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.

Tears rolled down her temples, wetting the sheets below them. “I’m not going to hurt you. You need to trust me.” Her head shook furiously beneath his hold, on the edge of hysterics. 

“Dean?” Sam muttered sleepily, sitting up in the bed. “What’s going on?” His hair stuck up in all different directions as he lazily looked around the room. His eyes landed on the situation in front of him and everyone froze.

Suddenly, the room exploded. With no hesitation, Sam launched himself at his older brother and tackled him to the floor. “What the hell were you doing!” Dean thrashed violently.

“She was trying to run! I had to stop her.” 

Sam snarled. “Not by doing that.” Dean landed a good punch to his jaw, knocking Sam for a loop but his grip remained strong even as his head spun.

Seeing her chance, Y/N slipped from the bed as quietly as she could but her legs gave out as soon as she rocked forward onto her feet. She yelped, catching the boys’ attention and they watched her fall, almost in slow motion.

Her head slammed against the corner of the bed before slamming into the floor. Blood pooled under her forehead, her eyes went hazy before they shut. “Shit!” Sam scrambled off of his brother, fear coursing through his veins like a fire. He slid a hand under her head, cupping her face gently. “C’mon open those eyes for me.” 

But she didn’t respond. Thick fingers fit against the dip of her throat, and he struggled to find her pulse. When he finally did, it was thready and weak but it was there. He breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s alive, probably a bad concussion though.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean growled, sitting up against the bed frame. “Why does this shit always happen to us?” As gently as he could manage with shaking hands, Sam lifted Y/N into his arms, resting her face against his strong chest. He could now feel the way her own chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

Sam laid her on his unmade bed, keeping her on her side in case she got sick. The wound, a small gash on her right temple, had slowed its bleeding. It wouldn’t require stitches, just a couple butterfly bandages. “I don’t know, Dean.” He sighed and got to work fixing her up.

Meanwhile, Dean was stewing, thinking. She could have used her powers to save him off, to escape but she didn’t. She was just a normal girl getting involved in something that she didn’t want to do. “What are we doing Sammy? That girl doesn’t have any powers, she’s just a kid.” 

“Without the blade, we have no chance at getting rid of the Mark. She’s our best shot.” But there was no conviction in his tone. Sam was also doubting the integrity of this plan but he was desperate. Dean with the blade was far more dangerous than this girl could ever be, they needed her.

“How dare you touch my daughter!” The door burst violently, shattering under the force at which it was hit. Crowley stood, absolutely fuming in the entryway, eyes red with pure rage. Sam and Dean sprung into action, their guns drawn.

“What are you talking about Crowley?” Dean shifted so his body blocked the demon’s view of the girl on the bed. His shoulders were tense, the Mark telling him to protect her with everything he had. But apparently, Crowley wasn’t having any of it today.

With a wave of his hand, the boys went flying into the wall, their guns tossed away and ropes appearing from nothing to pin them down. “I told you I would find the blade and this is how you repay me! You kidnapped my daughter! Lust after her! And then you harm her!” His voice thundered through the room, shaking the foundations of the building with his fury. “You sniveling weasels! I kept her out of this life for a reason!”

The Winchesters struggled against his hold. Crowley loomed over the double bed, intensely staring at the woman. “She was never meant to know. I just wanted her to have a normal life.” 

Dean’s nostrils flared with anger as the demon leaned forward and cupped her round cheek with one hand while the other brushed against the bandage on her forehead. “Don’t touch her.” The hunter snarled. His arm burned as the mark screamed at him to rip apart anyone that even so much as looked in her direction.

A vein in Sam’s neck ticked in time with his pulse while he pulled at his bonds. He could feel the loosening of the ropes around his wrist. An angel blade rested on the chair Dean had been occupying, if he could get even one arm free, he could grab it. “You are the ones that hurt her! Not me!” Crowley snapped but didn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Last warning.” But he disregarded the Winchesters and instead lifted Y/N from the bed, taking extra care not to hit her any more than she already was.

Her face easily tucked into the dark material of his suit shirt as he held her close. “Stay away from my daughter.” And with that, both him and the ropes disappeared, leaving only her sweater and the bitter smell of sulphur.

The boys collapsed to the ground. Dean wasted no time as he scrambled forward in a desperate attempt to reach the now gone pair.

“Son of a bitch!”

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Sam Winchester

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[caligvlasaqvarivm]

i never noticed the hints towards pale Solfef! in light of that, i think it's interesting that Eridan pursued Feferi in the pale quadrant while desperately wanting her to end up in his flushed one, meanwhile Feferi pursues Sollux in the flushed quadrant, despite them seemingly destined to be pale lol guess seadwellers are used to swimming up current lmao

that said, what are your thoughts on Erifef? do you think Eridan actually wants her flushed? or is that another subconscious tactic of his to keep her(someone he deeply cares about) by his side?

personally, i'm of the opinion that though they do care about eachother, they could never work out flushed. i think Eridan -though very enthusiastic about her and thinks they share the same troubles that comes with being so high on the hemospectrum, as well as isolated via physical location and the requirements to meet seadweller expectations- doesn't actually want redrom with her, but he knows pale isn't 'good enough' plus prefers to go to Karkat for all the traditional pale stuff. dude doesn't realize they can just be friends and she won't abandon him(cue Feferi abandoning him the monent she leaves quadrants with him, further exacerbating that fear lol)

meanwhile, on Feferi's end, it's too much to go into here but i think she has struggles with being present with others. so though i think she also deeply cares about Eridan and was absolutely miffed he was going to Karkat for things that she(being his moirail at the time) should have been talked to about, i think she has a lot of character development to go through before she can really pursue quadrants as something she needs and wants and not something she thinks she should do. i think flipping pale with Sollux could have been that catalyst but alas :' ] it seems Hussie changed his mind

So, personally, I do actually think Eridan's flushed feelings for Feferi are real... kind of. The fact that he has 0 self-awareness really makes talking about his feelings difficult because everything needs to be qualified with "this would change if he were capable of taking a step back."

The "kind of" here is because I don't think it's necessarily Feferi, the PERSON, that Eridan's in love with, but rather, the Feferi that exists in his head. To Eridan, Feferi is a bubbly, adorable, cheerful girl who's nice to everybody and doesn't have a mean bone in her body. He literally says that he thinks she might be too nice to have a pitch relationship with somebody, which is definitely not true, as Feferi can be plenty mean, and there's plenty to find flawed about her.

The first reason for this mistaken belief is that that's definitely the way that Feferi believes herself to be, so it's how she presents herself, and Eridan believes people when they tell him stuff. The second is because, in Eridan's shitty, friendless life, Feferi has been his one constant - the person who's always been there for him, the only person who's consistently nice to him (until he meets Karkat, and even then, Karkat is master of the mixed signals, and Eridan implies that death threats and insults are regular banter between them), and oftentimes the one person who cheers him up when he's at his lowest.

I think a lot of people in the fandom are too hard on Feferi - she's genuinely well-meaning, and most of her bad points come from ignorance and privilege, not manipulativeness or spite. She doesn't consciously realize it when she's treating Eridan poorly, and she makes real efforts to be a good moirail to him, even though he doesn't usually reciprocate those efforts. I think she suffers from the Umbridge Effect, where Eridan's problems - being on such the extreme end of trauma and anxiety - almost feel alien and unreal, while everyone knows a Feferi, so Feferi draws in some undue vitriol.

She has a few outbursts at him when he's egregiously rude for no reason, but given she's been dealing with his severe mental illness for so long, and takes his threats and casteism at least semi-seriously, I don't blame her for being exhausted and snapping from time to time. She's genuinely just not equipped to help him with his problems - lest we forget, she's also 13. Otherwise, everything else she does to harm him is something she just genuinely doesn't consciously realize is a problem, because she's got a hard time seeing past her privilege.

For example, using Eridan for feeding Gl'bgolyb without gratitude - the thing is, societally, it's his job, and HAS always been a violet's job. Not only that, but given his... everything, if she asked him if he's okay with doing it, he'd definitely insist that he is, and in fact, that it's HIS duty and HIS privilege. He also started INCREDIBLY young, so it's genuinely just been like this for their entire lives. It's a bit shitheaded for Feferi to not realize how much she benefitted from this arrangement, but, again, it's a crime of ignorance, not malice.

In a similar vein, I think she stayed in her moirallegiance for as long as she did partially because she got an ego boost out of it. She commiscerates with Kanaya over how burdensome he is, and she gets to say things like "we are not better than anybody," which she absolutely doesn't actually feel, given how she won't shut up about being a royal when talking to Jade. She's elated to break up with him, her narration celebrating with a big "you're FREE!!!" and it's not a coincidence that said break-up happens after Eridan's no longer useful to her - she outright states that he can't threaten their species anymore now that they're in the game and everyone else is dead.

BUT, I think she ALSO means it when she says that she stayed in that moirallegiance because she was genuinely worried for him. Both this statement and the above paragraph can be simultaneously true. There's nothing about Eridan that's actually that offensive to Feferi, and I really do think she means it when she says she wants to stay friends. His constant emotional crises have just left her burnt out in terms of sympathy, and she never really knew how to handle him in the first place, but in their first conversation together, she's still genuinely making an effort to get him to open up about his feelings and to cheer him up about his failed kismesistude.

After the breakup and his failed confession, the thing is, he does accept that rejection! ... Kind of. (Again with the kind ofs.)

He outright tells her he accepts that she doesn't like him like that... BUUUT, is trying to get her to go ashen with him and Sollux, instead. THIS is the "trying to keep her with him" angle you're talking about, IMO; I think his flushed feelings are genuine, even if they're aimed at this idealized version of Feferi moreso than the real deal. Without Feferi in the picture, I think Eridan and Sollux would have a completely lukewarm mutual dislike. The sheer lukewarmness is probably why Erisolsprite is so stable - they're completely mid for each other.

The realness of his flushed feelings for Feferi is, incidentally, part of why I think him and Roxy would work so well together - if this idealized version of Feferi (bubbly, adorabloodthirsty, pink, cute, cheerful, and kind) is his Type... well.

I also think he and Feferi would work pretty well as just normal friends; they might have fallen into that dynamic on their own if they'd met later on in life. In a hypothetical golden ending, I think they do fall into it once EriKar happens, since moirallegiances are stated to have a stabilizing effect on a troll's other relationships.

[italianpersonwithashippersheart]

DFF Questions And Theories Recap

I wanted to do a post where I could put down all the major questions that are still unanwered from the show and give all my thoughts and theories on each.

What Happened to Non?

Earlier I saw this post by @slayerkitty that pretty much outlined my own thoughts on this.

I have been leaning into the idea that the boys pranked and drugged him for a while now. And episode 7 just confirmed it.

What I am the most unsure off, is what happened after. Because the fact that some of these boys seem to be sure he is dead while others aren't makes me think that something happened after the prank

Now is Non alive? This one I am not sure off, if he is I am leaning thowards maybe him being in a coma or catatonic or in some kind of hospitalized situation, maybe under a fake name, thanks to Phi's dad.

Because the Mafia (Tee's Uncle) want him dead, so a fake name for both him and his brother/family might be to keep them safe.

I am not positive he is the third killer (if there even is one) if he is alive.

Most of my brain is on camp Non is dead. For the simple reason that Tan especially seem to be focused on knowing what happened to Non, and/or getting a confession. And if he can talk to Non there would just be no used for that. There would be no need to wait that long. I don't know just a feeling.

Who Are The Killers and How Many there are? And Is Tan Non's older brother?

I will start with the obvious, Phi has to be one of the killers, we are all on board with that.

While my previous theory was that Tan was not the brother and the brother was an unknown player I think I have changed my mind.

I am now 90% sure Tan is New, Non's older brother. Am I still a little bit miffed they probably casted an actor who is the same age as Barcode to play his older brother, yeah, but I figured if the actor pulls it off I can overlook the real life age, it's not like we have not ignored that before in BL land.

About the number I waffle back and fort. I am currently leaning more with there are only two killers. But I can't ever fully commit to it. If you discount the quick appereances I think I have a handle on who did what and when, mostly. And they could have definately pulled it off just Phi and Tan.

Again I do still think the way the guy that is supposed to come pick them up was introduce feel like a set up for a third killer. But it could just be about making sure they are trapped there. I don't know.

I think that Tan might be a bit of blank character on porpouse because if he is the brother, which I am becoming more and more sure with each episode, the bulk of his characterization will be post reveal.

It's definately a delicate balance to struck, because if you make the character too distinct then the reveal feels like it's coming out of nowhere. I really like the actor's microexpression and the way the camera stays on his face sometimes, I think it's very subtle and the actor does a very good job with them.

Who realesed the video?

This section is a bit shorter, I mostly just want to highlight the two post I have seen pointing out some stuff about the video

This one by @firstmix

and This one by @raelle-writing

I wanted to add that maybe Tee and/or Top hide themselves in the office because they thought they could film the teacher giving Non money, and then caught something else instead.

I also think don't think (EDIT: I made a mistake in the og post) it's Jin that realesed the video.

Humans or Suprenatural

I am firmly on camp there is no supernatural, there is no cult. It's all staged.

I think the killers might be using drugs on the boys (see this post by @lukaherehelp for an excelled post on that)

And maybe some sort of induced hynosis/trance on Top, but it also just might be that the drugs and the fear are making him more inclined to help the masked killer, especially if he already thinks it's a ghost.

Also I don't currently have a specific post or remember the specific person sorry my memory is trash, but someone pointed out that sounds, the voices they hear and stuff, might also be used to fuck with people, if you are the person with that theory and see this tell me I will edit this. EDIT: @slayerkitty pointed out it was @shannankle who had this theory, thank you.

I think the dissapearing quick motionless apparitions might be some sort of projection. Specifically something tech related. I am thinking about Tan weirdly awakard talk with White about how he totally doesn't know anything about technology (that was a lie if I ever heard one)

And finally last but certanly not least: What are the killers realtionship/attitude thowards White and What is White role in the story?

White is the wild card, he wasn't supposed to be there. We have at least two conflicting statement on whose idea him coming with them was. Tee initially says, we agreed you would be good if you came and then says actually you didn't want to come and I instited later.

I don't think he is one of the killers there are way too many shots of him alone that make no sense if he is in on it.

Phi seems to be occasionally protective over him. In the scene where they are seeing Tee and White make out he is laughing with everyone but then after Tee says enough my little one will be sad (something of that effect) he turns to see White being embarred and puts a stop to it. He also always seem to want to keep White at the house where he could be safer.

Then of course there is the little awkward moment with the hands when Phi is telling him what to do for the shoot. It was such a odd moment to include, that it makes me believe there is something behind it we are not seeing.

Tan instead seems to be gently stearing him in a specific direction, the direction where he asks questions and wants the truth. Someone left the page of newspaper about Tee's uncle before leaving Fluke and White alone in the house, probably hoping that White would find it. I don't want to used the world manipulation yet, but it does feel a little like he is using him.

White has to be one of the final standing boys. I am not sure if he is going to be the only one. If Jin didn't realsed the video then Jin might also make it. And of course it depends about the killers. Making the killers so symphatethic the audience root for them is always a gamble if you want to end your series with both of them dead.

Is White meant to have some parallels with Non? Tee obviously is trying to change himself and be better for White, although he struggles between care and selfinesh still. White might also come from a poor background, the boys might have been more nice to him because they felt guilty about what happened to Non. There is also that moment with the rash that I think will have a bigger meaning eventually.

And has @shannankle has pointed out in their post on colors. He and Phi have some color connections with the orange.

I think that is it. Obviously the last question is about the ending, but I don't really have any theories I am ready to share for that yet. As you can see I am sure of very little.

[rants-about-opm]

Jealous

-Trade Fic for the splendid @the-little-guru . The prompt was Badd's cat getting jealous of him spending more time with Garou.-

“Just pet her, you'll be fine."

Garou narrows his glinting eyes at the grumpy ball of fur occupying Badd's lap. Tama returns the disinterested glare, almost daring him to try. He barely lifts his hand before her whole body puffs up like a marshmallow, and she growls low in her throat. Almost on instinct Garou growls back.

"If your little rat bites me, I'm tossing her to the moon."

Badd frowns, adding a second pair of eyes staring Garou down. Privately he wonders if that trademark glare runs in the family.

"You realize that if you two don't get along I'm choosing her over you?"

Garou blinks lazily and shrugs, but he's actually quite miffed about it. This whole 'getting to know people' and 'making connections' thing was hard enough without being cucked by a damn cat. She's already purring as Badd rubs just behind her ears, her half lidded eyes watching Garou, like she's trying to mock him.

"Why couldn't you own a mantis or something?" Garou mutters. "So much easier to deal with."

Badd is only half paying attention, cooing nonsense to Tama.

"Tama's just jealous. Once she gets used to you being here, it'll get easier."

"This is the first time you've invited me to your house, and I've been here six minutes. How is she gonna get used to me?"

Badd glances up at him with a smirk.

"Cuz you're gonna keep coming over, smartass."

Oh.

Garou huffs and turns away, picking at a loose thread on his pants.

Suddenly an 8 pound ball of anger is dropped in his lap.

He tenses up as claws dig into his legs and Tama yowls, eyes wide and locked with his.

"Badd." Garou hisses.

He doesn't break eye contact to look at Badd, but he hears snickering.

"Badd, call off your damn bloodhound."

Tama leaps away, scuttling across the couch to go sit behind Badd.

"Worth a shot." He grins, ignoring Garou's death stare. "You want a coke?"

Garou stops glaring. He suddenly isn't mad anymore.

Rolling his eyes, Badd gets up and starts walking to the kitchen. Garou stands up to follow, only for Tama to dart off the couch and trail behind Badd possessively, sitting at the entrance to the kitchen to keep anyone else from coming in.

"Forget being the ultimate evil." Garou grumbles to himself. "I think she has me beat."

Unable to do something as boring as sit on the couch waiting for Badd to come back, Garou starts pacing. His fingers are already tapping against his leg impatiently, and he’s considering just leaving. Badd already said he would choose Tama over him, so why bother? There’s other people he’s kicked the shit out of before. Although, they might not be as willing to forgive him. Plus Badd was way more worth his time.

“I guess I’m stuck with him.” Garou sighs.

Shoving his hands in his pocket, he scanned the apartment for something interesting to occupy himself with.

He didn’t have to search long.

"You know, you can be really mean sometimes." Badd murmurs to Tama.

Taking two sodas out of the fridge, he sets them on the counter and reaches down to scratch beneath the little cat's chin. She purrs immediately, turning her head to allow better access.

“He’s a lot like you, you know. A stubborn, clingy bastard. No offense of course.”

Suddenly, Tama’s eyes seem to narrow, and she makes a weird noise, scurrying away.

"Tama?" 

Taking the sodas, Badd follows her, planning to hand off the drinks to Garou before going to see what she's up to, but Garou isn't on the couch. Badd stops, blinking in confusion. He cranes back to look down the hallway to the front door, but Garou isn't there either, and he would have heard the door shut if he had already left. 

Tama meows again from the opposite corner of the living room

Badd looks to where she's sitting in front of the cat tree, and follows her line of sight up to see...

"Garou, the fuck are you doing on my god damn cat tree?"

Yeah, the idiot is perched on the top of the tree, smirking down at Tama as she meows loudly at him.

"Cry about it, furball." He chuckles.

Badd sighs deeply, closing his eyes and counting backwards from ten like Zenko always tells him to do. His hand twitches, aching for his bat.

"If you break my two-hundred dollar furniture, I'm going to kick your ass."

Garou shrugs.

"I don't know why you paid that much when you could have just gotten a box or something, cats love that crap. Besides, if she's gonna hoard something I want, two can play at that game."

"Oh, you want me?" Badd replies, grinning smugly.

Garou's wide eyes snap up to look at him, his expression blank. Badd can practically see the gears screeching to a halt in his head.

"I have no idea what you're on about." Garou says flatly.

Badd crosses his arms.

"You're trying to make my cat jealous." He smirks. "Because you want me."

A moment of silence passes between them.

Garou hops off the cat tree, taking a soda from Badd and walking past him.

"I'm leaving."

"You want me."

"I'm never coming back."

"You're jealous that I pet her head and not yours!"

"Go jump off a cliff!"

Badd hears the front door slam, and laughs, turning to Tama.

"I'm so sorry, little miss prissy pants, but I can't *not* fuck him."

He turns to go upstairs, and freezes.

Zenko is standing on the bottom step in her pajamas, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

She looks back and forth between him and the door. She tilts her head judgmentally.

"Was that the weird goblin that tried to kill you?"

[lacyjaybird]

@inukag-week 2k24 Day 2!

Theme: Moonlight

"Stargazing"

The crackling of the fire didn't lull Kagome to sleep like it normally did. Tonight, she was restless. After a couple of hours of trying, and failing,  she slowly extricated herself from the softly snoring Kitsune kit in her sleeping bag. Allowing the brisk early autumn night air to lead her, she decided star gazing might calm her mind. 

Between their recent extra long stint in Onodera, her grandfather falling ill, and her Algebra finals, she was exhausted and stressed. And honestly just needed to connect with herself again.  Recently she only felt like a tool for use. 

Find that jewel shard. Bury that body. Perform those rites. Ace that quiz. Visit home. Go to the store. Go to the hospital. Study those equations. Bike faster. Aim higher. Write neater…

It was all very… 

Overwhelming. 

Barefoot, she walked until the fire was still visible, but no longer able to reach her. In either warmth or light, And she sat down. 

Looking up at the millions of stars illuminating the sky along side a nearly full moon was enough to send a shiver along her arms.  Truly a sight she missed in modern times.  

“The fuck are you doin all the way out here?” 

Well there went her silence.  

She didn't even bother turning her head to the voice,  knowing exactly who it was.  

“I wanted to have some alone time. It's that too much to ask?” She huffed, a little miffed at the voices owner from his recent demand in pace and action.  

“keh” He huffed, coming to stand behind her left shoulder. She could see the rustling of his red hakama pants in the edge of her vision, stopping at feet as bare as her own. 

“You're gonna get sick, stupid. And that's the last fuckin’ thing we need.” he huffed again,  this time moving his arms in a manner she couldn't decipher before the weight of his jacket thumped onto her shoulders. 

“I'm going to be fine. And don't call me stupid!” She snapped, feeling a tightness in her throat she wasn't quite expecting. 

And neither was he, apparently, because as quickly as it exited, he was in her face. Black brows knit down between spun gold irises. 

“Please,  Inuyasha. I'm just.. I just wanted a little bit to try and rest without being a disappointment for a while, okay?” Kagome turned her face away, the exhaustion and stress coming to a head and threatening to spill over. 

“Now who called you that?” He looked dead serious, the high cheekbones highlighted from the beams as he stared. 

“In not so few words, YOU.“ She turned to face him,  now. Her bottom lip starting to quiver. 

“YOU, Inuyasha. You've been running us ragged and blaming me for every delay. I can't walk fast enough. I can't bike fast enough.  I can't get it together fast enough after helping a woman bury her child. 

I'm annoying when I ask if we are able to get to the well soon. I'm annoying when I ask to take a bath after being covered in demon guts. I'm apparently insufferable when I ask for an hour or so to study before bed every other day instead of collecting materials for camp.  

I can't DO THIS Inuyasha! I can't keep running interference every time Miroku pisses Sango off or when Shippo gets on your nerves. I can't keep babying you when Kouga gets a whiff and comes to once again ignore my boundaries. I can't be expected to bring supplies and my schoolwork all while Ji-chan is in the hospital and Sota needs someone to fix him lunches while mom goes to Kyoto. But HERE I AM.” 

The tears are flowing freely as she gestures to the field in front of her, her hand shaking. 

“STUCK about two days travel from the well. And every.  Single. Time. I even mention needing to go home when you go to lead us off somewhere else on some rabbit chase,  you snap at me!” 

she points her finger into the tip of his nose, her gaze hardening. 

“So how else am I supposed to feel Inuyasha? “ 

“First off.” He gently pushes her hand away, leaning slightly back on his heels. 

“I never called you a disappointment. You figured that for yourself. And Second off, I been bustin our asses so YOU can.. So you can go home for longer this next time.” 

his ears droop as he looks away from her,  clawed finger picking at a loose string on the end of his sleeve. 

“Cause I heard bout yer grandpa and you been really trying to do the shit in that book and you do it for so long yer eyes get bloodshot and you won't even eat when dinner is ready..” She looks back to him, listening carefully as her anger begins to subside. 

“And you wanna help every fuckin’ sad sack this half of Hatakeyama. So o'course I let ya help cause I'm a piece of shit if we don't help bury a fuckin kid. But every day you just look worse and worse and the fuck am I supposed to do when I'm trying to get you back to your time so I can just sit and wait for you to come back to me!” 

Their eyes meet and there's a moment of silence before even the darkness couldn't hide the flush that overwhelmed the hanyou's features.  

Huffing, he spun on his heel and planted his butt firmly in the grass beside her,  looking to the left, away from her.  

“You were trying to help me.” she said,  quietly. 

“I've been putting so much on myself and you've been trying to help me get home quickly.. but I just thought you were criticizing me.” 

Fresh tears welled as she buried her face in her knees, the exhaustion and stress finally winning the war on her heart. 

“Hey! Hey.. c'mon. Don't cry over me. You've done much worse than assume shit about me. This don't mean a fuckin thing.” 

He waves his hands, trying to get her attention.. but settling on pulling her into his side. 

There,  he let her cry until soft sniffles came few and further between. 

“Inuyasha?” The smallest voice asked, looking down,  he noticed her pink nose peering over the neck of his now snot covered jacket, muted in the moons glow. 

“hnn?”  he hummed, gazing down at her toes barely poking or from under the red expanse. 

“Thank you. But in the future… can you just tell me you're trying to be nice?” 

“keh. You act like I ain't always nice. Like right now.  Cause I'm taking yer ass to bed.” 

She gave no fuss as he stood,  picking her up as he went,  and carried her to the low fire. 

Gently,  he laid her in her still open sleeping bag, fingers brushing her bangs as her eyes fluttered shut. 

“Go to sleep,  Kagome.”

The rest of the night was spent watching over his friends,  the moon his only company as her beams and his gaze meeting more often than not on the mess of inky black hair belonging to the woman he cared more for than his own need for a few hours of rest.

[creationofacentury]

Distant Thunder - P1

Summary: It was their first year. The first time Etho and Bdubs talked was in a potion class, and it didn't go well. Kinda. (Hogwarts AU)

----

"Do you know you shouldn't be doing that? That's not how it works."

Bdubs stopped his stirring and looked up. A white hair Slytherin was staring into his cauldron, expression intrigued but distant.

"Hey, don't stop. It needs constant stirring until it's finished. I don't think it's going to be, though,"

Miffed, Bdubs replied impatiently, "What am I doing wrong, then?"

"You stirred wrong. It's supposed to be stirred in the shape of oval. And oh, you are supposed to use spoon, not your wand. Usually they don't need to be stirred by wands, the ones that do are all pretty advanced."

"What are you trying to say?"

"You should restart. I mean, there's still time. You might still be able to hand in a passable potion." The Slytherin took out his wand, "Let me help. Evanesco."

Bdubs' potion vanished. He gaped at the Slytherin, "What-why did you do that?! Turn it back!"

"The potion was going to fail, though."

One thing about the Potion class is that Snape is only patient with Slytherins. If Bdubs tries to complain or argue, he might give Snape more reasons to take points from Griffindor, so instead of going to the professor or yelling at the person in front of him, Bdubs just said, "Go away, I don't need your help!"

A flash of hurt appeared on the Slytherin's face, but then he straightened, "Fine. I'm sorry for wanting to help."

Bdubs huffed and went back to work.

His potion ended up okay that day. The Slytherin's advice actually helped.

At dinner, Bdubs walked over to Slytherin's table, ignoring the curious glances that people are casting at him. "I'm sorry."

The white hair Slytherin looked up from his meal. He looked surprised and confused. "What for?"

"For how I treated you in Potion. I knew you were trying to help, I really shouldn't have snapped at you."

"Oh." The Slytherin said, rather eloquently.

"Etho, right? That's what Katie told me. I...well, I am not very good at this. Just. I'm sorry." Bdubs paused, a bit embarrassed. "May I partner up with you next time? You seem to know a lot about potion."

Etho's confusion melt away, and surprise took over. "Partner up?"

Bdubs huffed, "You don't have to sound so scandalous."

That got a laugh out of Etho. "I- yeah. Sure. I've been wanting to ditch some of these stupids for a while."

"Hey!" Some Slytherins, first-years that Bdubs recognized from the sorting ceremony, yelled indignantly.

"Sorry, but it's true!" Etho yelled back.

Bdubs snorted, surprised himself.

"Well, I'll see you on Thursday then." Etho smiled warmly at him and turned back to his dinner.

----

Notes:

I don't know if I'll post more of this story. This is going to be a massive project for me, and I am still trying out different ideas- it's going to take me ages. On top of that, I have several other unfinished stories...why do we only have 24 hours a day ;-;

[foodsies4me]

Magnus saying ‘I don’t know’ because he imagined his rship with Alec to be very distant. Now he actually likes him and how soft he is and accepting and basically the rookies unofficial big brother/parent. Good bye Magnus’ resolve 🙃

Obsessed with Alec being a magnet for tired children who just wanna cuddle and feel safe 🥹 When the trainees appear it’s gonna be chaos for who gets to hold Alec’s hand and sit on his shoulders and use his blue blanket!! (the Max duo might have a bit of leverage here)

Malec holding hands for 2.0 seconds! They both gonna be thinking about that allllll week. Now the pining official begins 😬 I’m glad they got to talk for a moment cause those feelings gonna hit them real quick.

Woooooo more Malec and smol rookies being cute (me ignoring the whole plot and the fact Magnus half forced Alec into a marriage then took him away from his family + Institute cause angst)

Honestly, you are so valid for ignoring the plot and everything with it.😂

Magnus is having a lot of co flirting emotions and those emotions are having emotions about it. The only thing they all have in common is that they’re currently centered around Alec and that Magnus isn’t enjoying experiencing them because of ✨plotty reasons.✨

Alec is friend shaped and cozy teddy bear shaped in toddler eyes which means he’s the perfect spot to cuddle up to when sleepy. This superpower also works on babies as Steph’s parents know, which is why Alec spent the first year of Steph’s life with a baby strapped to his chest or back whenever she got colicky because he was the only one she would stop crying at.

Steph’s mom was initially miffed, but now she’s just happy that know Steph has a good godparent to take care of in case anything happens. Alec…isn’t aware he’s legally Steph’s godfather and has been since before she turned 1 year old. Jace and Izzy are just waiting for him to find out and cackling in the background.

[triplesilverstar]

Scars and parts

Rating: Gen

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: Injuries, blood, body dysmorphia, stitches, verbal fights 

Word count: Roughly 2.8K

A/N: After a brawl in a local town, you know Vash needs to be patched up, and the stubborn fool won't relent at first. Once he does, you realize that between the two of you, you might not have any skin that's

The moment you were both back in the room you started routing around in your bag, searching for the first aid kit you know is somewhere inside. 

“Lose the turtleneck” his response to your request is nothing but a non-committal “hm”. “Don’t be an idiot, for all your flashy moves I know some of those bullets hit you, and those throwing knives. If your shirt wasn’t black I’m sure I'd see the stain from here. So lose the turtleneck so I can check it out.” 

“It wasn’t that bad” you turned to glance at him as he raises his hands up “besides I can check it out in the bathroom in a few minutes.” A miffed snort leaves you as you go back to your rummaging. 

“Oh yea? Are you that flexible you can treat your own shoulder? Or your back?” You find the small kit and smirk to yourself before turning to face the infamous humanoid typhoon, that as of late you also called your boyfriend.

“Honestly, it’s not that bad” he’s rubbing the back of his head now, clearly trying to keep his left arm out of your line of sight. Stubborn fool. “If it was, I'd be heading to the doctor to get it looked at.”

“Nice try” his expression is turning into a grimace at the stare you’re giving him. “This town doesn’t have a doctor and you know, that I know, and even if they did they’d be busy patching up the townsfolk that got involved.” The small town you’d both been staying at for the last few days while you recovered from being trapped in a sandstorm had been hit by a group of bandits. Said group was now sitting in the sheriff's office, bruised and battered, your wallet a little fatter with part of the bounty stashed inside. 

Vash had handed more than half to the town for damages, and as far as you were concerned hush money given his name, the rest you had split between yourselves. “Now stop being so stubborn and lose the shirt so I can have a look. From what I saw it shouldn’t need more than a few stitches so stop the drama Sunshine.” 

“Not sure how I feel about you taking a needle to me, Snipes”. His head is ducked down, gaze ardent on the floor as if he’s hoping it will open up and swallow him. It’s never a good sign when he goes back to ‘Snipes’ vs ‘Mayfly’ at least not in private anyway.  

You huff at him again “I’m not in the mood Vash, I’m tired. So lose the top before I make you lose it, if you’re worried now imagine how shakey I'll be if I've got to fight to see your injuries.” You watch his expression as the look of dejection crosses it before he makes up his mind. 

“Alright, you win. I’m not really a fan of taking my clothes off for a pretty girl.” His sigh makes you wonder just how dramatic this man can be, even his jacket is removed and thrown over the chair with a flourish which is stupid in your opinion as you can see the wince he’s trying to hide from the movement of his arm. Wait you do know, and have known for a while. 

You snort again “Oh yea, you won’t take your clothes off, but in the middle of the night I can jerk you off in your pajamas.” A flash of crimson shoots across his face as both hands reach for the bottom hem of his shirt while he turns from you, a portion of it clings to his wounds and you find yourself assisting in gently unsticking the fabric from his skin. You ignore how warm his skin is lest you get distracted, he’s always warm through the fabric of his clothes and his skin even more so. 

At the first sight you can see why he was apprehensive in showing you, his back is littered with scar tissue and metal plates and wires seemling holding the skin in place, the area of one of his shoulder blades nothing but gnarled tissue. You’re tempted to make a smart ass remark but hold back, this is another one of those huge steps you hadn’t been expecting. His insecurities regarding his physical form at least explain his hesitation, and his preference for any physical contact in the dark. You knew he had scars from your hands exploring atop his clothes, just not this bad, the thickness of even his sleep clothes hiding a lot.

Pensive you twist him, using his shoulders to make him turn at his hips after seeing a few nicks on his back, a slice from one of the knives running horizontal to his prosthetic arm unsure how it happened with no visible fabric tears to his coat or shirt. You can’t see any new damage on his torso, so you try to not stare too long at him bare like that.  Opening the kit you grab a few cotton swabs and the alcohol to wipe the blood from sight to make sure you have a good look at the wound and try to curb any infections. “This might sting a little” you whisper and watch his body shivers against the cold liquid, a hiss from his mouth as the alcohol does its job. You try to be gentle with the wound, it definitely needs a few stitches to close the gap in his skin. He might heal fast but this one is too much of a risk in your opinion. “It’s not too big, but it is deep enough to need stitches, I can see the layer of fat under the skin showing. I know you heal fast but I don’t think it’s worth the risk.” You’re giving him an out if he truly doesn’t want you patching him up, but the deepness is bothering you. “I’m surprised it didn’t slice your turtleneck or jacket.” An attempt to lighten his damping mood from being poked and prodded. 

Vash’s only response is to hum at you, head bobbing forward a miserable looking frown across his face. Since he’s switched to being nonverbal, you find yourself gently maneuvering the man to sit in the chair in the room, elbows resting on the back rest. Before tackling his upper arm you clean the smaller cuts and nicks on his back. None of them are bad enough to need more than cleaning and light pressure to stem the bleeding, you know that in another hour or two his skin will look like they hadn’t even been there. You hate when he’s like this, glancing at the back of his head, after the time spent being travel companions and now dating you thought the two of you had become closer than this, that the breakdowns you’d had with one another had forged a deeper connection. It eats you that it hasn’t, a voice whispering in the back of your mind that it’s because you don’t deserve his trust and affection.  

Your voice is soft when you finally have the needle threaded in your gloved hands to get started on the stitches and let him know, a final chance for an out. He makes a motion for you to get started, taking deep breaths and while it’s not the best position to be leaning over him while you work but it’s better than both of you standing, you're not the one getting your skin stitched up. At least you weren't half bad at it from the number of times you’ve had to patch yourself up over the years. Halfway through you try to re-engage him. “So, you going to tell me why the drama in getting you part way out of your clothes? I mean you were calmer when I found out you were a plant, which seems like a much bigger deal.” He tense under your hands and you keep talking, more to distract yourself than anything else, hopefully your words are distracting him from the needle sinking into his skin. “I mean, if it’s a matter of being worried about being considered easy on a first date I think we’ve gone well past that point. Plus you did buy me dinner last night, Sunshine.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you watch his shoulders slump a little, or at least as much as they can before the needle sinks into his skin for the next suture. “That’s not it. Most girls don’t find scars all that sexy. Really, a lot of people don’t react well to seeing them.” He leaves it unspoken but you know he sees it as the downside to letting his opponents live, he’s the one that pays the price for his own mercy and it’s a reminder of things he’s been through. While you support him, and his own personal beliefs have made a change in your own actions to an extent, you do wish he had a little more self preservation. You like your boyfriend whole. 

You’re starting on the final one and let out a breathy laugh “Well maybe that’s the problem Vash, you’re too worried about what girls think. I’d like to think most women understand that scars are a sign of what a person has survived.” You watch the red start at the tips of his ears again, slowly descending down his neck. How can this man be so adorable and ridiculous at the same time? “Plus, you’ve seen me Vash. Seen what’s hidden out of sight under my clothes, how can you think I'd judge you for scars like this when I have a few of my own as well.” That’s the understatement of the year. 

Once you finish, a thin layer of gel to keep the edges of your work moist and wrapped up under a bandage, gloves throw in a waste bin. You push the current self imposed boundaries between the two of you a little and rest a palm against the back of his neck rubbing along the skin there. You’d rather trace the scars etched in his skin and tell him how beautiful they are, but Vash has yet to allow your wandering hands to explore his skin too much when you’re being intimate. There’s no way he’d be amused if you tried it now. “But maybe I'm in the minority on that. We both know I'm pretty odd.” You let out a soft laugh to try and break the tension while he remains silent. You feel some of the tightness leave him and keep up the gentle ministrations against his neck for a few moments. Leaning forward you press a soft kiss to one of the metal plates across his other shoulder, his skin turning a deeper shade of red. “I know people haven’t always been kind to you” sliding your hand forward to press against the center of his chest, and pressing your forehead between his shoulder blades. “But I couldn’t imagine falling in love with anyone else.” Self imposed boundaries be damned, he can upset with you for the next few days if he wants, but you know deep down he needs some sort of validation. 

A few minutes of silence pass but you know you need to get moving, you can’t stay like that all night so you stop to clean up the supplies and wipe the needle down with fresh alcohol before packing things back up. Having finished Vash has pulled his clothes back into place and has moved to watch you put away your supplies back in your bag. “You don’t need to say things like that to spare my feelings” his tone has gone soft again. You’re sure if you turn to look at him he’d have his eyes downcast, and that sad smile he wears when he’s leaving a town he’s been thrown out of. 

“Wow. You really haven’t been paying attention at all have you.” There’s no point in hiding the bite you feel at his words, like you’ve taken one step forward and now another two back. Your chest tightens from the pain, and you’ve always reacted like a wounded animal when hurt.

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m pretty blunt, so why would I say something I didn’t mean” you’ve pulled out your sleeping clothes from your bag before turning back to face Vash. “If you want to be insecure about your body, be my guest. But don’t you ever assume I’ll say something to contradict what I'm thinking or what I do, Vash. I thought by now my feelings about you should be pretty clear.” Huffing towards the bathroom you scowl at him annoyed enough to know your skin is flushed. You don't register the look of shock that crosses his face as the door is closed before it shifts to one of his soft smiles, his blue eyes softening from your words. 

“You really are something else” he whispers to himself hearing the shower as it starts running.

You feel a little better after the shower, the sort of fight clouding your thoughts and leaving you feeling exhausted after the day's events. Feeling more like an asshole than a lover or even a friend to the self sacrificing blond. While you weren’t in the shower very long, there was still enough steam to fog up the mirror, and you feel yourself dragging your feet instead of going out to face Vash, your words weighing on your mind as having been a little harsh, wiping a hand down the center to look at your own visage. Tired eyes and wind burnt skin is reflected back at you, a sigh escaping your lips. Steeling your thoughts you grab your clothes and step back out in the room. 

Vash has changed into his night clothes, the loose long sleeved tee and pants that tend to hide his muscled physique, sitting at the desk and looking out the window. You can feel his eyes on you through the reflection as you drop your clothes beside your bag. “Figured i’d shower tomorrow, give my body time to recover” you nod at his answer, makes sense to not introduce water to all the small nicks and cuts, plus it would be a pain for him to have to keep his arm out of the spray. 

“I think i’m going to hit the hay, it’s been a long day” you don’t wait for him to respond, just slip into the sheets on the double bed and face the wall voice soft. Movement follows after, the creak of floorboards and the sound of a light being extinguished. The bed dips as his weight joins you, his clothed chest pressing up against your back, an arm wrapping around your middle. 

“Goodnight Mayfly” he whispers, voice flat in the shell of your ear and you groan. Damn plant, making it hard to stay mad at him and partly at yourself. You find yourself rolling over, hands reaching up to grasp the back of his head and drag your nails through his undercut. 

“You make it so difficult sometimes” you mutter into his chest, and feel him shudder. “I wish you’d take me seriously instead of playing it off as me just trying to console you.” A long exhale follows and his hand is moving, gentle circles rubbed into your back. 

“It’s hard sometimes to let those walls down, to let someone in. Even if it is you. Rejection is hard to take over and over when it’s something you can’t control.” You don’t stop your ministrations to his head, but instead of playing with his undercut you start carding your fingers through the longer hairs. 

“I will never reject you for something so superficial. Me wanting you, scars and all isn’t about walls. It’s not even about intimacy for me at this point Vash. I’m happy with moving at your pace.” You find yourself swallowing, he’s shifting so his chin is pressing into the top of your head “It’s the trust part that burns, or how it seems we still lack it. We always seem to be moving backwards.”

“I know. I get it.” His hand stops its movement and you feel his tight grip against your shirt. “As long as you're ok with waiting, I'm willing to keep trying.” It’s left unsaid that it’s him trying to let someone else carry a part of his burden, to lighten the load.

You know he’s damaged, so much of him used to giving for others and leaving nothing for himself, how he thinks he needs to right the wrong from the fall, it breaks the few pieces left of your heart everytime you think about it. How easily when he’s told he’s not wanted somewhere to just leave, how easily he can also tell that moment is coming and trying to leave before it. “I’ll keep waiting, Sunshine, but you need to keep walking towards that dawn.” You find yourself yawning, feeling better after this little heart to heart, the exhaustion seeping into your bones. 

“Why do you call me Sunshine anyway?” 

“Cus, like the song. You’re my Sunshine, you’ll never know how much I love you, ya big dork” you fall asleep face pressed up against his chest, and him the shade of a tomato.

Back to the Masterlist for the series

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Dad!Ashton Masterlist

A Dad For Christmas (ao3) - sourscarlets Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum T, 17k

Summary: Since the age of three all Ashton's daughter has wanted for Christmas was another father so her dad could be happy. Her Christmas wish comes in the form of a toy store owner that might just be what they were looking for.

Come On Skinny Love, Just Last The Year (ao3) - senioritastyles Calum/Ashton G, 4k

Summary: "Daddy!" Evan calls, eyes wide as he looks just past Ashton.

Ashton barely has time to turn around before his cart crashes into someone else's, his distracted walking leading him right into the collision. He looks up to apologize as Evan quietly giggles next to him, somewhat hiding behind Ashton's legs, and Ashton is met with warm dark brown eyes and golden skin and a smiling stranger who doesn't seem even remotely miffed at Ashton. The stranger is beautiful really, it's the only way Ashton can think to describe him as he fumbles trying to find his voice.

Or: Ashton is a single dad and he meets Calum by chance.

Daisy (ao3) - boomerluke Luke/Ashton M, 121k

Summary: The last thing Luke expects when he wakes up hungover in the bed of his latest one-night stand is to come face to face with a freaking kid. But there she is all wild curls, thumb-sucking, and nonstop questions. Luke can't get out of there fast enough.

Ashton isn't the type to have one-night stands. He's a parent, after all. It was a mistake, and it won't happen again. At least that's what he tells himself when he comes back from his shower to find the naked college kid still in his bed, arguing with Daisy.

They couldn't be more opposites. At 25, Ashton has the responsibilities of two parents, raising his daughter and trying to pretend like he has everything figured out. At 21, Luke is a self-proclaimed Grindr god who doesn't care about anyone or anything but himself. So why is the universe (with the help of Michael and Crystal) so hell-bent on seeing them together?

Drum Drum - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) T, 3k

Summary: Debbie, Arlette, and Lisa watch drumming videos of their friend, Ashton, from Craft Club.

Hot for Teacher (ao3) - FayeHunter Michael/Luke T, 1k

Summary: Michael doesn’t want to be up this early bringing his niece to school. At least the teacher is hot

i promise i'll keep you safe (ao3) - orphan_account implied Calum/Ashton N/R, 681

Summary: “Promise?” The young girl asked, raising her head of his chest to look at him in the eyes to make sure he was telling the truth. He nodded and kissed her forehead. “I promise, Kiddo. As long as I’m around, you will always be safe.”

OR

where calum and ashton have adopted an anxious and emotionally broken five year old girl, and one night, she gets scared by a storm and crawls into ash and cal's bed, where ash comforts her and calum sleeps like a baby beside them.

Lily (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance Michael/Luke E, 49k

Summary: Luke and Michael, they used to be boyfriends, lovers and each other’s world. Michael did not know whether those things really existed but he used to think Luke was his soulmate and that they completed each other; that was until Luke left without saying anything. After many years, Luke had decided to come back home but he did not come alone; he brought along a cute little girl, named Lily. When he suddenly came across Michael, the feelings that he had forgotten started to come back. Will he be able to ignore them? Or let his heart decide for him? Although many years passed, Michael had never really been able to be with anyone else because his heart has always beat for Luke. Meeting Luke again was like a second chance to save what had been lost; he wanted to get close to Luke. Will Luke allow him into his world again? Or was it just him and Lily?

never be (ao3) - radiance OT4 G, 4k

Summary: luke, calum, michael and ashton all work on the hemmings' farm during the summer.

Smudges of Love (ao3) - larryologymajor G, 2k

Summary: 5SOS oneshot...single dad!Ashton au Luke thinks Ashton and his daughter are lonely, so he does something about it.

(Or the time Luke got Ashton's toddler daughter the best birthday gift ever!)

Take Custody Of My Heart (ao3) - ghouluke Luke/Ashton M, 18k

Summary: Luke, a child custody lawyer, takes on the case of Ashton, a scared single father, who after a rocky divorce with his ex-wife, is fighting for custody over his daughter, Lily.

take my hand, now and forever (don't ever let go) - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) Calum/Ashton T, 9k

Summary: Ashton is a single parent who's not had good luck with dating ever since his son was brought into his life. Then, he meets Calum, who's the first guy who's ever shown interest in him and his son.

Trouble Is I Can't Find A Way (You're Part of Me) (ao3) - sunsetmagnolia Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum T, 24k

Summary: Ashton didn’t know what to make of the thought that Luke was here. In his city. After all the effort he’d put into making sure they were a whole country away from each other for so many years.

Where the Heart Is (ao3) - LyricalPary (hoseoky) Luke/Ashton, side Michael/Calum E, 86k

Summary: By the time that Ashton Irwin is twenty-seven years old, he's already a widower and a father of three. After his third nanny quits on him, he comes to the conclusion that life in general doesn't seem to like him very much—that is, until his luck turns around when he discovers a particular nanny by the name of Luke H.

The question now is, can a twenty-two year old man with mile-long legs and a smile made of gold really be the super nanny that Ashton needs?

Perhaps so.

you're the thing that i can't quit (ao3) - lucasfletcher Calum/Ashton T, 2k

Summary: “So, you’ve got the hots for your son’s football coach?” Michael asks from the other side of the bar, leaning on his elbows and blowing his gum in Ashton’s face annoyingly. “Shh, Michael,” Ashton looks around to make sure no one’s close enough to hear them. “And who the fuck even says ‘got the hots’ anymore?” “So you do!” he pauses and a grin takes over his features. “Also fuck you I can say whatever I want.”

or, the super cute cashton one

[fireflylitsky]

ZABUSAKU NOT DEAD YET PLEASEE

This is just me on my "Sakrua should have Kubikiribocho" bullshit 😂

Sakura wasn’t sure what a normal girl got for her eighteenth birthday, but she was positive it wasn’t this. Her sensei rubbed at the back of his neck when he presented it to her, smiling through his uncertainty. “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he admitted, gesturing to the unwieldy blade.

No kidding.

But she smiled all the same and thanked him as she accepted Kubikiribocho. The Executioner's blade. Zabuza’s sword. 

“Thought it might bring back some memories,” Kakashi said. He wasn’t wrong. She couldn’t fault him there.

It seemed so big when she was small. She thought for sure now that she’d grown, its grandeur would have diminished, but no. Somehow it only seemed bigger now in her clutch. 

Kakashi-sensei justified the gift further, stating she was the only one he could think of that would do it justice. So that was just great. Now she had to.

The first time Sakura heard it, it scared her.

“More…”

At the draw of blood—a kill—a voice scratched at the back of her skull. Deep and coarse. It put a dryness in her throat. Made her thirst, though not in any unpleasant way. Made her think that maybe more might be good, yes.

Needless to say, she decided to keep this to herself.

“More.” That was all it said for the longest time. She grew so used to it that it honestly became easy to ignore. Her blade carved through flesh, and with it came that hunger. That urging insistence. Sometimes it even sounded like praise.

It wasn’t until a particularly brutal battle, during which Sakura struggled to gain the upper hand, that the sword developed a vocabulary—a rude one. “Behind,” it warned with a growl, tacking on a muttered, “idiotic girl…”

Sakura narrowly dodged the attack because of that warning, leaving her free to balk at the absolute audacity of her sword. “Excuse me?!” 

It was on that day Sakura came to find out that some souls do not pass on to the afterlife. Some will cling to whatever they can and refuse death. Attach themselves to a vessel and live on inside it.

Kubrikiribocho just happened to be such a vessel, and Zabuza Momochi was anything but dead.

SO basically this becomes the story of Sakura and the soul of Zabuza bonding VERY SLOWLY over the course of many years. At first he's miffed when this stupid pink-haired girl becomes his wielder because ugh, she's not going to help his cause at all. (He believes that if he is able to absorb enough blood--enough life--through the blade, he can use it as a conduit to come back. After all, this blade's ability is to regenerate that which has already been destroyed)

But over time she piques his interest. He sees her potential. That feral streak in her. Maybe she can be useful to him. So he starts becoming more talkative (even if he is rude) and starts to guide her and work with her in battle.

They have lots of little quiet moments other people wouldn't understand (very underdeveloped snippet incoming):

Her body hurts. Her heart hurts. She feels it all welling up inside her and knows she’ll cry herself to sleep tonight in this ramshackle hut—alone, but not. Kubikiribocho lies in bed beside her. She sidles up against it and lays a hand on the oddly warm blade.

Zabuza’s silent, but she knows he can feel what she’s feeling. They’re too intertwined now. “I’m so sorry…” she eventually says. “This is unbecoming of me. Of a kunoichi. I just… didn’t want to be alone. Not after…” she chokes off, unable to put it in words yet.

“…Not like I’m going anywhere.” His voice sounds in her head, dismissive in a strangely comforting way.

“True… sorry about that, too.”

Silence spans between them and if a sentient sword could sigh, well, it sounds like that.

“Hey, Zabuza…?” she murmurs after a while, barely audible as she trails her fingers along the smooth steel of the blade, absently tracing lines down the edge.

“Hm?”

“I’m going to fix you,” she says, determined. “I’m going to bring you back no matter what. I’ll find a way. I promise.”

“Tch… yeah, yeah, I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

“I won’t be useless. Not to you, too.”

There’s another stretch of silence before she hears him speak again. “Did someone tell you that? You’re useless?”

“Not… in those words exactly,” she says. “But I know that it’s true. Especially after today.”

[sanemisstalker]

Hey guys vent post up and coming lol //// little life update. Nothing extreme just wanted to like, speak for a moment.

I had like, an 4-8k douma fanfic that tumblr deleted so, I'm a little miffed (I greatly dislike tumblrs drafts) but its kind of fine because it was super self destructive and probably no good for internet consumption (I go to him when I'm sad, arguably to a harmful degree. It was really hot though) but it was really well written so that kinda blows.

Um, two, I will get to your requests, I swear! I have a ton of drafts saved for a couple of different asks (looking at you, lesbian in my inbox that really wants me to write mitsuri porn). All of ur asks r really good, and I giggle and kick my feet everytime i read one.

My temporary no writing is because my ex boyfriend is over, and if I'm on my phone he'll feel ignored (I am still chronically in love with him even if he's emotionally negligent, so the past three days have honestly just been torture because of like... everything about him) so I have tried to only write during the night time, but I'm usually so worn out by then that I will just knock out before I get the chance to finish anything.

You will probably get birthday smut from me around my actual birthday- idk who yet. We'll have to see. In a very douma mood rn though.

Every bit of emotional reprieve for my situation with my ex was in that fanfiction (I spent 6 hours writing it this morning before I slept, but I'm trying to have a good birthday party and not start it by crying over something so small, it is what it is). My actual birthday is later in the week but college starts back then so-

If things get a little slow that's why. I am a working college student, sanemisstalker lore drop ig. I literally only want to write demon slayer smut though, considering it's the only thing bringing me joy rn, but hey, most of us have a 9-5. I have to feed my 3 kids (my roomates)

Also, I just got into jjk (the pacing is a mess) and i really want to fuck this guy so do with that what you will. He's sexy. Mad sexy. So I might start writing for jjk? No promises.

[sopejinsunflower]

2022.001.005: In Your Presence

I wake up with a start, eyes shooting open and lying still on the bed, waiting. 

The first thing I notice is how hot it is. The second thing is that it’s very bright. I finally turn onto my back and wince, using my hand to shield my face from the glaring sunlight flooding through the half-opened curtains. Once my eyes adjusted, I lay back on my pillow, eyes closed. It’s a Saturday and I would love to sleep in some more but that would require me getting up and shutting the curtains properly. I let out a groan, a little miffed at not being able to just drift back to sleep and continue whatever dream I was having. 

I lie there for a few more minutes, testing to see if I can just ignore being boiled under the blanket from the heat of the sun. Nope. I sit up, glaring at the curtains for not reading the room and shutting themselves. Seriously, it’s the weekend! 

The seven boys.

Guys. 

Men.

Gorgeous, gorgeous men.

One of them sleeping in the room across from mine.  

Well, good morning to me. I shuck the blanket off of me and pad my way to the window to throw open the curtains, letting in the morning sun. The tree growing out my window seems to be waving hello to me and I wave back. On the ground below, the gardener waves up at me, a little confused. Does he know that we have guests? Would he even care? I don’t remember ever really having a conversation with him. 

I wash my face, brush my teeth then decide that a quick shower won’t do any harm. I wash my hair and even shave my armpits and legs. It takes me a full fifteen minutes to pick out a dress, pastel yellow with tiny white flowers. I pull my hair into a fishtail, a little makeup, then stand in front of the bedroom door, hand on the doorknob, taking a few calming breaths.   

I’m a little more excited than I should be. Like a kid on Christmas about to run out of the bedroom to check the presents under the tree. It’s almost pathetic. I’ve been living in this huge, old manor for a month now and finally having company apart from the house’s employees is a breath of fresh air. And they’re around my age!

And handsome, don’t forget that.

I take a deep breath, count to three and open the door dramatically.

The hallway is empty.

Not just empty but as quiet as if there is no living being in this house except for sad ol’ little me with my shoulders sagging like a balloon emptied of air. That was anticlimactic. No gorgeous men standing around waiting for me to walk out my bedroom to greet me, no beautiful men waiting for me to go down to breakfast together, no handsome men asking me how my sleep was and did I dream of them? I jut out my lower lip, the disappointment hitting like a tonne of bricks. 

Okay, that probably came out of some romance fiction. I don’t even know what I was expecting to find. 

Then I remember; it’s Friday! It’s a weekend for me since I don’t have classes on Fridays but not for them. That’s it! Namjoon did say they always leave early to get to work so the four oldest must have already left. It’s a little after eight, about time they’ll be arriving at the office, wherever that is. I wonder what their jobs actually are. Since they are essential workers, it could mean they are frontliners. Doctors? Once more, my brain wanders over to some steamy romance trope with a medical team. 

Doctor, she’s not breathing. She needs mouth to mouth. Stat!

I shake my head to clear it. I walk towards the stairs and look towards the east side of the house. The other three should be home doing their online classes, just beyond those closed doors. Have they gotten their breakfast yet?  

I dawdle at the top of the stairs. I want to go check on them, like a good host would, but I’m worried I might be too much in their hair. They’re probably already in class. What if they think I’m hovering too much, disturbing them? I should just leave them be. We’re not exactly friends. 

After a couple of steps down the stairs, I pause and run back up, having second thoughts. I go to the first door next to the stairs, not even sure whose room it is and knock so lightly it barely makes a sound. I’m suddenly nervous. I wipe my palm against my dress and try again, a little more confidently this time and wait. 

No answer.

I try again, louder this time. Still silent. 

Maybe it’s the room of one of the older ones? Should I try the other rooms? I move towards the room across the hallway but then stop myself. Let them be. With one last look at the other room, I left to go downstairs, my own stomach starting to grumble. 

~~~

Jimin just can’t help the huge smile on his lips as he tries not to laugh. He watches you walk down the stairs, keeping his eyes on you until the crown of your head vanishes from his view.

God, you’re so adorable and you don’t even know it. 

Jimin had gotten out of his room pretty early today just as the sun had risen and filled the dim hallway with bright rays. He wandered in front of your door, pacing the hallway, waiting for any signs of movement behind your door. Jin had poked his head out, scowled at Jimin then disappeared back inside. If anyone could have seen him, they’d think he’s a nuisance, walking back and forth when it’s not even eight. And he dressed up for you, too, the heels of his boots would’ve made a lot of noise on the hardwood floor if his feet weren’t just wisp of air. 

But daylight brings invisibility again to the seven men and right then, Jimin thinks it’s a damn good advantage; he gets to watch you, uninhibited. When he finally heard you opening the curtains in your bedroom, he pressed himself up against your door, eyes closed, imagining you as he listened. You took a shower, a long one, and you mumbled a lot to yourself (he could hear your muffled voice through the door) as you got dressed (he could tell from the sound of hangers being tossed around) and he caught a few words that told him you’re taking a lot of time choosing your outfit today, which made him smile to himself fondly. It wouldn’t have mattered, love, he thought. You’re beautiful in a potato sack, didn’t I tell you that before?   

Then, once ready, you stood right behind the door and Jimin stood back, waiting patiently. The door opened and Jimin beamed, standing almost toe to toe. “Good morning,” he greets softly. But the hopeful look on your face was wiped off, the corners of your mouth drooping. You look forlornly at him, no, through him and sigh, shoulders sagging. Jimin felt a dull sting in his chest, his smile only withering slightly. It’s sad to see you disappointed but it made his heart bloomed at the thought that you had been expecting to see them. 

You had wanted to see him. Well, all of them, he guessed, but there’s no harm in indulging himself. It brought Jimin nothing but joy knowing that your first thought was them, him. He would rub it in the others’ faces about this the whole day today, how he got to be the first to see you, how pretty you look in that little yellow dress with the off-shoulder sleeves, exposing your beautiful collarbones as well as your pretty thighs just enough to remain sweet yet sultry. He would describe to them how your perfume had smelled first thing in the morning when it had just been sprayed on in intimate points that Jimin didn’t have to check to know where: behind the ears and inside your wrists which you then rubbed gently against your dress to transfer the smell.

If he remembers correctly, you would do the air walk with your perfume too, spraying it into the space in front of you and walking back and forth in the mist to get the scent on not too strongly. You do this method generally. But the latter method, well, it’s special. It’s when you want to make an effort, when you want the perfume to be just a tad bit more enticing. Jimin had chuckled to himself. It’s always the same, never changing throughout the centuries; little habits that make you, you. Little habits that become telltale signs.     

    When Jimin thought you were leaving down the stairs, you stopped and hurried back upstairs. It caught him by surprise to see you come up to his door and knock, small and timidly. He went to stand in front of you, leaning against the wall, facing you, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with an amused smile. What are you doing, darling? Did you come to call me down for breakfast?  

When the first knock was barely audible, he urged you on. “Louder, honey. Even ants won’t hear that.” You knocked louder, with more confidence and Jimin is thrilled, feeling like you heard him. He pretended to open the door. “Yes? What is it, sweetheart?” 

But you pouted and Jimin laughed affectionately. He half-expected for you to try the door as Namjoon warned you might but you didn’t. Instead, you look over across the hallway to Hoseok’s room, seeming to contemplate trying the other rooms. A slight jealousy poke at his heart but he pushed it down. No, he promised not this time. No jealousy, no negativity. You decided against the idea and turned back towards the stairs and left, for real, leaving him alone in the hallway now, staring after you.

“What are you doing?” 

Jimin jumps at the sudden voice. Yoongi is standing halfway out of his room, eyes in slits and hair all ruffled from sleep. They might be ghosts but they still sleep. They go to bed each night, just as one normally would. Learning to remain on the bed when their physicality changes, now that took longer to adjust.  

“You scared the crap out of me, hyung,” he says, a hand against his chest. 

“Oh,” replies Yoongi nonchalantly, nodding. “I scared a ghost.”

Jimin pulls a straight face. “Hyung, go back to bed.”

Yoongi stares him down for a few seconds, narrowing his eyes even more. Satisfied, he turns and heads back inside his room, melting through the door without another word.

~~~

“Did they come down for breakfast?”

Mrs Oliviera stops halfway through picking up my empty breakfast plate and gives me an incredulous look. I return her look and repeat, “Did our guests have their breakfast?”

The look on her face seems to imply that the question is too hard for her to process, staring blankly at me as if waiting for some sort of punchline that doesn’t come. Then, as if her world finally catches up to mine, she says, slowly and deliberately, “Breakfast?”

Now, I’m irritated. “Yes. Isn’t that what people eat in the morning?”

She gives me a disapproving look, continuing to clear the table. The plates clang against each other a lot more noisily than she usually does. Her movements are hastened. Her lips are pressed together before answering, “Yes, they did.”

“Oh,” I reply, masking the disappointment in my voice. I had hoped to run into them. “They’re such early risers.”

Mrs Oliviera snorts but then catches herself, scurrying to the kitchen with her hands full. She never reemerges. 

Like usual, when I have nothing to do, I take a walk outside, down to the creek with a pear in hand. I see the greenhouse in the distance and the gardener inside. Cherry blossoms are almost out, they were beautiful in the early spring but pretty things don’t last long. The trees still stand full, void of any flowers, making a good natural walkway down to the greenhouse. Sakuras lay flat on the ground, browned by time under my shoes as I walk.

The greenhouse is a thirty-metre giant geodesic dome with transparent glass, letting in enough sunlight during the day. By noon, the glass turns frosty, preventing the plants inside from getting too hot, and transparent again once the sun rays grow weaker. It’s intelligent technology but it mostly shows how much thought my grandaunt had put into the care of her flowers and trees. It’s also custom-made AKA costing a shit-tonne of money. I wonder what it must have been like for her living with all that money yet growing old and then eventually dying alone. Was it lonely? Or was it liberating to be able to not have to consider anyone else, doing anything that made her happy, like spending millions on the greenhouse? 

I entertain the latter idea more than the first; it’s a lot more fun to think that she had had a happy, fulfilling life. She had a lot of adventures and a house full of evidence of that (now compiled into my stupid list). She didn’t have family but she had freedom. And who knows, maybe sometime in her long life, she did find a love that was just as a whirlwind as her life had been, and it makes me wonder where the guy is now, if there was one. Or girl. Did they end up just as happy as my grandaunt was? Did they settle down and build families when my grandaunt never did? 

Sometimes I wish I had known her when she was alive. 

I enter the greenhouse and the gardener looks up, and an instant smile is on his face. I say gardener but he’s more of the groundskeeper. A Korean man in his sixties but looking like in his forties, he has a very serene face with hands that look leathered from all the labour work he has done. As far as I know, he has been working for the house since he was young, taking over from his father, the previous ground’s caretaker. It’s not just the greenhouse but pretty much everything that grows in and around the land of the manor. Even the forests that grow around the estate seem to respect him, never creeping in on the boundary of the manor; you can clearly see the line between the wilderness and the manicured grass.

“Good morning, miss,” he calls out, waving with the secateur in one hand. He goes back to work, pruning the white roses delicately. This is the first time I come around when he’s here, the first time he’s ever greeted me with more than just a nod from a distance.

I look around the greenhouse alive with different types of flowers; from the variety of roses to the hyacinth to the daffodils and the forget-me-nots, from the irises to the tulips to the wallflowers and the lily of the valley. There are orchids, petunias, geranium, pansies and chrysanthemums. There are even ferns and some others I do not recognise or know the names of but pretty nevertheless. From pots to straight from the ground to little hanging baskets and trays, the greenhouse seems to be bursting with fragile lives, all at the hands of one man, Mr Chang.

“Good morning.” I approach him, leaning in a little to see what he’s actually trimming. 

He moves back and looks at me. “Interested in botany today, are we?”

“I might be watching what you’re doing,” I say, “but nothing is compartmentalising.”

He laughs, going back to his task. “Once you learn what the plants need, you’ll know what to do.”

I laugh, too. “I’ll leave them to you. You’re doing an excellent job so far.”

“I’m glad to know I’ll be keeping my job even with a new employer,” he says kindly with a small smile. 

I chuckle, moving away to look at the other plants around, walking in slow steps. “Your job’s safe with me.”

The plants all have a light mist over them, signalling that they had been watered not too recently. The sprinklers attached to the frame of the dome work on timers for the most part but the heavy bulk of the tending to all the floras individually is Mr Chang. He finishes up with the roses and moves on to the rhododendrons. “You seem to be in a very good mood today. Did anything good happen?”

I try my hardest to conceal the wide grin on my face, glad to be walking away from him and pretending to look at the tulips. They are at the end of their season, with only just a few purple ones left. “Nothing much, really. We have guests. Having more people in the house makes me happy,” I reply, the excitement clear in my voice. This is the most I’ve spoken with him. He seems nice. Warm.

He straightens up and turns towards me. “What, Ollie isn’t good enough for you?”

I furrow my eyebrows at him, unamused. He laughs, turning back to the shrubs. He continues to talk as his hands move. “Well, who are these guests?”

“There’s seven of them,” I reply, turning to walk back towards him. “Very handsome fellas.”

Mr Chang’s hands stop moving and he looks back at me. His face is unreadable but when he speaks again, he seems to be arranging the words carefully. “Seven you say? Where did they come from?”

I shrug my shoulders at him. “I dunno. I didn’t get to talk to them all that much. Oliviera put them up in the attic at first, can you believe that? It’s ridiculous when we have so many rooms.”

He stares at me for a while, like he’s thinking of a response. He flicks his eyes up towards the house and from here you can easily see the windows to the rooms. I can easily spot mine with the windchimes glinting in the sunlight. Then, his face softens again and asks, “I don’t presume they’re still in the attic?”

“No, of course not.”

He nods slowly, again, thinking. A smile slowly creeps up his face and his eyes have a twinkle in them. “So there are seven handsome men in the house with you, huh? Interesting.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

I laugh, shaking my head. “What does that even mean? They’re guests, Mr Chang.”

“For now,” he says, almost to himself. He goes back to the shrubs, snipping dead flowers and fussing with the bush. “Do you like them?”

My eyebrows go up at his sudden question. “I met them like last night.”

“They’ll be staying here awhile, won't they?” 

“Yeah. How do you know?”

He shrugs. “Just a guess.” He finishes up and stands straight, arching his back to stretch. He puts away the secateur into the tool belt around his waist. He looks at me. “Do you think one person can love multiple people at the same time and equally?”

I stare at him at his sudden question. It’s an odd one, even odder considering the timing. “I told you, I don’t even know them,” I say lightly with a smile, walking towards the exit. “And what are you talking about? Like a poly relationship?” 

He smiles almost sadly. “I’m not talking about them. It’s a theoretical question. Yes, I mean a polyamorous relationship where there’s multiple people loving the same person. I think it’s impossible. It’s a human flaw that we are not able to actually regulate our emotions. We’re not even fair to ourselves, how are we to do that with others, right?”

I mull over his words, weighing them around in my head. Something that he says struck me but I refuse to acknowledge the feeling. I shrug instead. “You have a point but I don’t know. A normal relationship is complicated enough. A poly to work would need double the effort but whether it would work long term, I don’t know.”

“But theoretically?” He looks at me expectantly. 

I shake my head. “I really don’t know.”

The elder man goes back to work, going from one flower to the next, like a human bee, delicate in his handling. I remain in the greenhouse for another few minutes, taking pictures of some of the plants that pique my interest, and sharing some of them to a good friend of mine who works at a plant nursery. Some of these plants are rare, according to her, and hard to maintain and she wonders if she could come over to check them out and maybe talk to Mr Chang. I just passively said yes but she lives on the other side of the country and with travelling impossible now, who knows when she’ll actually be here. 

I didn’t tell her about the men.

As I’m leaving, I catch something white darting across the grass and towards the forest tree line. Its long fluffy tail gives one last swish before it disappears out of sight. 

“Yeah, she appeared out of nowhere just recently,” says Mr Chang, suddenly next to me looking in the same direction. “A little wild but I know she’s been eating the tuna I put out.”

“Do you think you can catch her?” I ask.

He shrugs. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do. She’s been using the vegetable patch as her personal toilet. Maybe bringing her indoors wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

I nod, agreeing, a little excited at the prospect of having a pet. “Let me know when you get her.”

***

All Hoseok knows is that you spend a lot of time on your phone.

Too much, he thinks from his cross-legged position on the floor, eyes never leaving you who is sprawled on the long sofa. He tilts his head to the side, trying to look at your face from the right way up. Your upper body is hanging down the side of the sofa, your hair sweeping the floor. It’s the fourth weird position you’ve assumed in the one hour you’ve been here. Is that even comfortable? His neck hurts from looking at you like this.

Last night, after you went to bed, they had a sit down with Ollie, much to her chagrin. Her main job, aside from taking care of the house and bringing them dinner nightly, was to keep them in the loop while they are stuck in the attic. She was the bridge between them and the world they were cut off from but she’s been neglecting it for the past years, always rushing to leave and refusing to talk to them any more than a few words when she would clean the attic. 

They had a million questions, so many things to catch up on and she reluctantly filled them in; the advancement of technology and the internet (people don’t use phone books anymore!), current fashion trends (that required the internet, accessed by a mobile phone with no buttons and a large screen, no antennas), current society and the lingo, and most importantly, this new Covid-19 pandemic. From the sound of it, it’s bad but at least being here means they are fully isolated and that the world has come to a halt. It’s a silver lining, for a short while. 

Ollie found them an old Samsung that they used to spend most of last night ordering new clothes that fit the times and, well, they all went a little crazy. But money has never been a problem. If you’ve lived for as long as they did, you’re bound to collect a fortune. Or two. All packages had been addressed to the little cottage the employees live in. The clothes should be able to get them through this last bit of spring and through summer.

Suddenly, you’re laughing, a full on laugh that makes you snort and spittles lines the sides of your mouth. You right yourself after almost choking on your own spit, laying across the length of the three-seater sofa. Hoseok crawls over to you and leans on the armrest over your head to try and see your screen. As if on cue, you replay the video and Hoseok leans in closer. 

It’s an orange cat sitting on a bed, grooming itself when it suddenly starts to fight with its own feet and rolls around the bed, bunny-kicking itself. You burst out into another bout of laughter, pressing your hands against your stomach. Hoseok can’t help but laugh along, sliding down to the floor, so amused he can barely hold himself up. In his ears alone, yours and his laughter mix in the air, the sound of two people enjoying each other’s company. He knows that you get along best with him when it comes to sharing humour; you both have the same explosive reaction, like twins from different parents.

Hoseok draws himself into a sitting position, his back against the edge of the sofa. Behind him, you’re still reeling in the last note of your laugh, wiping the corners of your eyes with the tip of your fingers. Hoseok sighs. “I can’t wait for you to show that video to the others.”

“I can’t wait to show this to the guys,” you say with a giggle and Hoseok’s eyes widen. He stares at you, eyebrows still in his hairline, mouth in a small O. He glances over at the window as if to confirm that the three o’clock sun is still up. He relaxes a little but is happy that you’re thinking what he’s thinking.

You let out a heavy sigh, letting your arms fall to your sides, your focus finally ripped away from your phone. Hoseok can finally look at you properly, his eyes roving over every inch of your skin, taking note of every little detail; every little scar, every little freckle, every little beauty mark. He memorised them the same way he would memorise an important map. Your looks always vary, and yet, in a cosmic way, the same. It amazes him every time.

Sitting up on his knees, Hoseok leans over your face so that he’s eye to eye with you, albeit upside down. “What are you thinking about, angel?” His voice is soft, barely a whisper. You’re looking up at the ceiling, unaware of the man staring into your eyes as if he’s trying to catch a glimpse of the soul inside. 

“Who are they?” you mutter in a faraway voice, lost in thought. 

Hoseok smiles. You’re thinking about us. 

He watches you bring your phone up once again, covering his view of you, and he lets out a small grumble, but scoots close nevertheless to see what you’re looking at this time. You close the Twitter app and open up a search engine. You wiggle your thumbs over the screen, undeciding what to type. Your forehead creases a little as you think before finally you type in Namjoon in the search bar and press enter. Hoseok is alarmed but he’s not all that worried. There are tons of Namjoons in the world and the search result is pretty inconclusive, listing the many Facebook pages and Twitter handles and LinkedIn profiles, all of which are not related to the Namjoon somewhere in the house. 

Hoseok is calm yet anxiety creeps in at the fringe, worried that you might actually find something on them. He doubts it but they’re not exactly sure how far and wide the internet’s net can cast. Or how far back in time. He’s positive none of their information is out there, given how new the internet actually is, but he can’t help but think of the possibility. He remains vigilant on the screen as you type in each and every one of their names, with much or less the same result. Hoseok notes that you don’t know their last names and could be the main reason why nothing substantial is coming up.

“Hmm,” you muse to yourself. “I don’t know their last names.”

 Hoseok’s glad they addressed their online shopping to a different location. Their full names would've been on the packages. 

You lock the screen, giving up on your search. You’re chewing on your bottom lip and Hoseok can clearly see the cogs turning in your head and the determination on your face. He sits back, wondering how to handle this. He’ll talk to the guys. It’s too soon for you to know anything. Too soon for the whole truth. But time has changed immensely since the last cycle and this timeline is much too advanced for their usual tricks. They have to be very careful with this one, with you. Any wrong move can ruin everything.

Any wrong move and they’ll easily lose you. 

~~~

I have never been this excited for dinner my whole life!

I’m fidgety and a little on edge with nerves, sitting down at the desk and then standing up to move to the bed to sit down again, only to stand up once more and pace the room. My room faces the back of the house so there’s no way for me to see the boys come back from work. Alternately, I resort to listening for their footsteps up the stairs. I keep wanting to go downstairs, hoping to run into them but I worry that they’re not even back yet, so then I’d have to come back up and repeat. The three youngest also haven’t emerged from their rooms.

I’m growing impatient, unable to sit still any longer, my ears perked for any noise from outside to signal the boys. It’s almost 6.30PM and dinner will be announced soon. The sun is low in the horizon. Shouldn’t they be home by now?

~~~

“How long has she been pacing around in there?”

Jin is smirking pretty smugly, watching the bottom of your bedroom door. Your shadow is clearly seen moving back and forth and it amuses him so much to know that you’re anxiously waiting for them. He doesn’t even break away to look at Jungkook to answer, “A while now. She’s been antsy since the clock struck five.”

The seven of them are standing just outside in the hallway, grouped around Jin’s door, all eyes in the same spot; the slit under your door. With the sun sinking, the bedroom is overflowing with warm, orange sunlight that spills from under the door crack and halfway into the hall outside. 

Jungkook groans. “Why doesn’t she just come outside? I want to see her face!”

Namjoon chuckles. “If she comes out, she might not run into us and would have to repeat going in and out, and by that time the you in her head would have been suspicious and she would’ve been caught waiting for us to come back. Then we’d know she’s been waiting.”

Jungkook stares at him, dumbfounded. Namjoon adds, quite proudly, “It’s basic women’s behaviour.”

Yoongi pokes him in the arm. “That’s sexist.” He leans against the wall next to Namjoon. “It’s more typical of y/n behaviour. Hasn’t she always been like this? Too shy to do anything outright and too proud to admit it when confronted.”

Jungkook groans again. “Ugh, I hate this part right here. I just want us to go straight to loving her.”

“To you it’s a repeat,” Jimin says. He’s sitting on the floor, hugging his knees. “But to her, everything is new. And if we jump straight into it, she’ll think we’re fucking lunatics.”

“And would hate us forever,” Taehyung adds on. “And run away and we’d have to wait another cycle.”

They remain quiet for some time, lost in their own thoughts. Yes, that has happened before. They had been too impatient, then. 

The grandfather clock downstairs half-chimes for 6.30PM and they hear Ollie call out that dinner is served. Hoseok notices that she’s not as warm to you as she had been for Soon-hee. With Soon-hee, Ollie would not dare to dream of shouting from the dining hall like that, and would have come up and knocked on her door to let her know dinner is ready, politely, the way for a housekeeper to act with her employer. With you, she’s more dismissive and treats you like a misbehaving child instead. He should address this with her, see what her problem is. 

Your bedroom door finally opens and you step out. You look over to the east side of the hallway, where the majority of their rooms are, hopeful. 

You go to knock on Jimin’s door. “Hello? Is anyone there? It’s dinner time.”

Jimin clicks his tongue, disappointed that he couldn’t give you what you wanted right now; to come out of his room and accept your invitation. But all he can do now is sit there in silence, simmering in his own feelings. He can’t even bring himself to look at your face. 

Taehyung is upset, mouth turned down in a pout as he watches you go to the next room and do the same. When you still get no answer by the third door, you give up, walking away to head downstairs with a look that rips their hearts to shreds. Namjoon sighs, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Jungkook watches after you, his eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Jin is shaking his head and Hoseok is silent. Yoongi gazes at the floor, face impassive as he tries to curb the turmoil inside him.

Jin finally straightens up, looking out the window at the setting sun. “Almost time now.”

~~~

At least one thing is good; the long table is set for eight.

I can feel myself instantly brighten up, bouncing over to my seat. Mrs Oliviera is setting my food down, the beef stew steaming wisps of smoke. She looks up when I enter. “Would you like some rice or bread with the stew?”

“Bread, please.” You take your seat as Mrs Oliviera places a few slices of toasted baguette on my plate. I gesture to the other empty seats. “I hope they come down soon. Have the others come back yet?”

Mrs Oliviera flicks her eyes briefly on me, placing down the bread basket and wiping her hands on her apron. She stares out the window, the sky turning purplish as the sun sinks beyond the horizon. She looks back at me, her face sympathetic. “They’ll be down soon,” she says and disappears into the kitchen.

You mean back soon, I think to myself but I shrug, not bothering to correct her. 

I take a sip of the red wine and get started with the food, breaking the bread into smaller pieces and toying them in between my fingers. I guess I forget what it’s like to have housemates that aren’t exactly your friends. You have different schedules and different activities, basically different lives, that you probably won’t run into each other all that much, never mind in a big house like this. It’s the same as back then, living in that group home as a teenager and then in a shared house when I was in university,  

Oh well. I shrug to myself and start to eat. I’ll see them when I see them, I guess. A few minutes later, Mrs Oliviera reenters the dining hall carting a trolley that looked familiar. She starts to serve dinner for the seven set places.

“Are they back?” I ask, pausing in between bites. “I didn’t hear anyone coming in.” I crane my neck to see out the dining hall but the front door’s view is blocked by a corner in the hallway, which is dark as the sun had already set but the lights haven’t been turned on. 

She never answered me. She flicks her eyes over towards the window, the sun disappearing as day turns into night, and grunts a response. Just as I’m about to turn away, seven figures emerge from the shadows of the hallway and walk in, all with bright smiles on their faces, all looking at me as they take a seat at the table. 

Jin sits closest to me and he looks at me with kind eyes. “Sorry for the wait.”

I shake my head, my appetite suddenly back in full force. “Welcome home,” I say lightly, not knowing how hefty the words are to my guests, the impact left them to inhale a short breath. 

I’m more focused on my own feelings at the moment. I forgot what it’s like to have meals with company. The noises of the other cutleries or the occasional short conversations or just the light bickering among the boys feels somewhat cosy. I look around at them all, looking like they belong here at this exact table all along, in their assigned seats. They don’t look out of place nor do they look uncomfortable eating in a house that’s not their own. The scene is perfect, almost as if it’s been drawn in a painting.  

I continue to eat in silence, smiling at their little back and forth with each other, answering their small questions about my day and returning the question. It’s nice. I love this feeling. It feels warm. It feels homey. And I can’t shake the distant feeling of familiarity even when it doesn’t quite make sense, a feeling I can’t quite verbalise that tells me I’m supposed to be here at this house with these people.

I came to Solomon’s Manor to escape the life I left behind, the money was the latter reason, an afterthought, an incentive in the grand scheme of things. I ran away from a miserable life of pain and heartbreaks, convinced that a year in solace would be just what I need to heal. 

But for the first time in a long time, just sitting here having dinner with these seven strangers, I’m happy, content, not knowing that this is just the beginning of a very old story, about to be replayed for the hundredth time. 

a/n: lmk what you think about this chapter in the comments or ask :)

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