#let them know drabble

[afewproblems]

I just got a tattoo done and was thinking about all of the before and after care instructions they gave me and how older Eddie would have possibly reacted to the list of things he would need to do or items to purchase for a new addition to his sleeve.

The artist reaches out to Eddie years after corroded coffin makes it big. She's fairly well known as a minor celebrity herself in the tattoo and body modification space in LA, so when she contacts Eddie's agent about offering a new piece for his eclectic sleeve he checks out her portfolio and is immediately sold.

She sends him the idea and he signs off on it right away and before they know it, he and Steve are on a plane from Chicago to Los Angeles.

It isn't until it's done, and the second skin is placed over the piece, smoothed out to ensure no bubbling, that Eddie balks at the secondary list of steps he needs to take.

The artist taps out the instruction email on her phone, hitting send with a dimpled grin before reaching out to shake his hand and Steve's, thanking them for being such great new clients. She asks Steve if he would be interested in a piece at some point, to which he smiles politely and shakes his head.

Steve has never been into tattoos for himself, though he's always gone to great lengths to admire and kiss each piece on Eddie's body.

Eddie half listens as they continue to chat, pulling out his phone to review the email she sent him.

"Ensure that you leave the second skin on for three to five days and upon its removal (see removal instructions on page two)..."

Eddie has to stop himself from rolling his eyes right then and there. It's not as though this is his first ever tattoo, he's been getting ink since before this girl was even born.

He winces at the thought, reminding himself that just because she's young doesn't mean she doesn't know her shit, and she clearly does. He shakes his head and nods when Steve says goodbye for them and they make their way to the elevator.

"Okay, what's with the face?" Steve asks quietly as soon as the door closes.

Eddie sighs and folds his arms over his chest, careful not to bump the now tender area on his forearm.

"You look like you swallowed a lemon, spill," he reaches out for Eddie's shoulder, his warm hazel eyes, now lined with gentle wrinkles at the edges search his face, "do you not like it?"

Eddie barks out a laugh, "it's probably one of the nicest ones in the whole collection, no Stevie, it's not that".

Steve raises his eyebrow now and just looks at Eddie until the elevator dings and the doors open before them.

God Dammit.

He loves and hates this ability, that Steve knows Eddie will crack eventually if he just waits long enough.

"Fine!" Eddie sighs as they make their way back to the hotel.

It's gorgeous out, nothing like the weather back home right now, the palm trees lining the streets and the twinkling fairy lights on every corner gives the area an almost magical feel, despite the bustling pedestrians packing the sidewalks.

"It's a little weird all the instructions," Eddie says eventually. He speaks slowly, doing his best to articulate exactly what he feels.

Steve nods, though the confused pinch between his brow doesn't quite fade.

"And I've been getting these done since it eighties, Steve, it's just a little--"

Eddie growls and tugs on his hair in frustration, "I don't want to be shitty".

Steve shrugs and loops his arm around Eddie's small waist, tugging him closer.

"Be shitty, you know I love it," he grins and lifts his free hand to remove Eddie's from his hair, "what about the instructions made you upset?"

"It's like I'm being talked down to," Eddie says with a frown, "I got a stick and poke from Jeff in '84 that was totally fine with out any of this," he lifts his arm now to show off the shiny second skin to Steve who nods.

"And which one was that again?" Steve asks, there's a leading lilt to his voice that makes Eddie want to sit on the sidewalk.

He huffs out a low whine, "Steve--"

"Eddie," Steve answers with a soft smile.

And Eddie knows he's lost this argument, if you could even call it that, because the bats that Jeff did for him all the way back in '84, have since been covered up.

Over the years they had morphed into six blobs of bluish grey on the back of his forearm that could no longer be distinguishable as bats, and after being asked about his 'abstract' tattoos by an interviewer a few years back, he had made the decision to get them covered.

And it could have been any number of things that lead to the eventual fading and blobification of his bats, but Eddie figured it was probably because they had almost immediately gotten infected a few days after Jeff had finished them in his parents garage.

Eddie clears his throat and opens the email on his phone again, taking another look at the list the artist had sent him.

"Fine, you gonna help me take care of this thing Stevie?" Eddie grumbles as they enter the revolving door of the hotel, stepping carefully into the pie shaped section to avoid colliding with the moving entryway.

Steve snorts and lets his hand curl through one of the belt loops on Eddie's jeans, "I think I remember agreeing to something like that, in sickness and health?"

He leans forward and nuzzels his nose into Eddie's ear, "till the end of our days".

#i like the ending but im not sure how well if fits for this little drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #afewproblems writes #tattoos #steddie #older established steddie #steve x eddie #let them be grumpy old men that think they know better than the whippersnappers #these guys were born in the 60s they would probably have this immediate gut reaction #got sappy in the end #but i wanted it #had my own tattoo done this weekend and i was so surprised by the before and aftercare list

[eskawrites]

It’s 1979, and every day, Barb wears a dark purple bracelet around her wrist. It’s pretty, although a bit more basic than what Nancy would normally wear—just a simple band of woven fabric, and a little star charm dangling from the middle.

“Where’d you get it?” Nancy asks her one day out of the blue. She does that sometimes—asks people things without any lead up. Her mom tells her she’s inquisitive. Her dad just says she asks too many questions.

Barb never seems to mind. Over the last few weeks of getting to know each other, there’s never been a question that Barb isn’t happy to answer.

This one seems to make her sad, though. She holds her arm up and twists her wrist a little, watching the charm catch the light.

“It’s a friendship bracelet,” she says. Nancy is old enough to recognize the twinge of jealousy for what it is, but she isn’t quite old enough to understand why it’s there.

“With who?” she asks anyway.

This time Barb does hesitate. She looks around the middle school cafeteria, but they’re the only ones sitting at this end of the table, and the buzz of students is loud enough no one can really hear them even if they decide to pay them any mind. Not that they ever would. Nancy and Barb tend to fly under the radar.

“You know Robin Buckley?” Barb says, lowering her voice.

Nancy shrugs. She’s heard the name. It’s a small school, after all.

“She has the other one,” says Barb. “My parents took us to Indianapolis a few summers back. A lady at the mall was making them. I got purple for her favorite color. She has pink for mine.”

“And the star?” Nancy asks. She reaches out without really thinking about it, holding the little charm in her fingertips.

Barb smiles. “We used to stay out in the park for hours after dark, watching the stars. She knows all the constellations, and a bunch of old stories about them. She knows a ton of stuff like that. She’s pretty cool.”

“You guys don’t hang out anymore,” Nancy feels the need to point out. But Barb just shrugs.

“Yeah. We had all different classes last year, and I guess we just drifted apart. I say hi when I see her in the halls sometimes, but we just…don’t really talk anymore.”

“Oh.” Nancy lets the charm go. Barb lowers her arm and picks up her fork again. “We could get friendship bracelets.”

Barb’s eyes light up. “I saw some charms and stuff at Melvald’s the other day. We could make some!”

“Let’s do it,” Nancy decides. “When you spend the night Friday, we’ll ask Mom to take us to Melvald’s.”

“Deal.”

-

It’s 1983, and Nancy has a pink bracelet—with a pen charm, not a star—that she keeps in a shoebox of all of Barb’s things.

She only pulls it out and looks at it when she knows it’s a bad idea; when she’s already one bad thought away from breaking, and she holes herself up in her room so she can push herself recklessly over the edge.

She takes the bracelet in her hands and runs her fingers over the soft, time-worn threads. Pink for Barb’s favorite color. Barb had a soft, sky blue for hers. She thinks about that bracelet, dangling around Barb’s wrist while she drove them to Steve’s house, tied to her still, soaked in blood and rot as she decays in the Upside Down.

Nancy tucks the bracelet into her pocket. If Barb’s association with Nancy led her to her death, then Nancy’s association with Barb can mark her until the day she dies.

-

It’s 1985, and when a new girl walks up with Steve, Dustin, and Erica, looking terrified and in shock, the first thing Nancy sees is a pink bracelet around her wrist.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Nancy asks.

“I’m Robin, I work with Steve.”

But that’s not the answer. She’s not Robin who works with Steve. She’s Robin who carries stories of the constellations in her head and memories of Barb on her wrist. Robin, with a pink bracelet and a star charm that, quite frankly, looks ridiculous among the leather bands and thick rings she wears.

The group sits down once they’re finally all together. They exchange stories and make a plan, and all the while, Robin sits off to the side, on her own.

Nancy thinks about Barb sitting on her own by Steve’s pool, her gaze turned down and her shoulders stiff around her ears. She watches Robin curl up and hug her knees to her chest, and that damn pink bracelet is all she can see.

-

It’s 1986, and Robin complains every step of the way as Nancy wrangles her into a blouse and skirt.

“You should lose the rings,” Nancy tells her. “They’re unprofessional.”

“Gee, thanks,” Robin mutters.

“You can borrow some of mine if you still want to wear them.”

“No, it’s fine.” She pulls the rings off one by one, dropping them onto Nancy’s desk with small, satisfying clunks. She shakes out her hands when she’s done, and Nancy watches that star charm bounce back and forth along its soft pink band.

Robin notices her looking. She covers the bracelet with her hand and scowls.

“The bracelet stays. I’m not taking it off.”

“That—that’s fine.” Nancy thinks she should say something else—she’s not sure how they’ve gone this far without talking about it—but she can’t stop staring at it.

Robin’s shoulders slump. Her grip on the bracelet shifts and she runs her fingers over the charm, her expression turning sad.

“Sorry,” she says softly. “I just—I got this because of—”

“Barb.”

Robin meets her eyes.

“She told me,” Nancy says. “She—she still wore yours.”

And for the first time, it occurs to her that Barb was wearing a purple bracelet that night, too. That there has always been a part of Robin Buckley rotting in the Upside Down along with her, along with Nancy.

Maybe they were all doomed, intertwined, forsaken from the start.

“A purple bracelet,” Nancy says. “And a star charm. Because you liked watching the stars together. She said you knew all the constellations. She said—”

Robin’s arms are around her the second her voice breaks. She hugs her close, and Nancy swears she can feel that star charm pressing through her shirt.

-

It’s 1989, and Robin is moving box after box from her house with Steve into Nancy’s apartment.

It takes all day to get her clothes in the closet and her desk into the second bedroom they’ll use as an office and her frankly excessive collection of tapes onto the bookshelf in the living room. By the time dinner rolls around, they’ve both decided everything else is a job for tomorrow, or the day after, or next week.

But before they go to bed that night, Robin digs through a box of photo albums and picture frames to pull out a small, black shadowbox. She holds it carefully in her hands and walks over to where Nancy stands by the bookshelf. Nancy takes it from her with a soft, sad smile and reaches up to place it on the shelf. She feels Robin’s hand on her waist, and she steps back to tuck herself into her side.

They both look up at two pink bracelets, a pen charm and a star charm, hanging safely side by side.

#something-something childhood friendship bracelets and the way you never really know how to let them go #ronance #and barb! #ronance fic #(???? it's at least 1k words we'll it that) #ronance drabbles #that's the one!

[lovesickeros]

can.. can I ask for an affectionate reader with characters who aren’t normally like… used to the love? like, not just through words but physical affection like hand-holding, kisses, hugs, all that shebang. probably with a few people like yelan, ei, basically any character that is either cut-off from society or seems socially distant or isolated. 😞

☆ affectionate reader with yelan, ei, & furina

[ 4.2 Archon Quest spoilers ]

× yelan

Varies between how you display your affection, to be honest. Just like being affectionate with people? She's cool with it as long as you don't pop by while she's working (mostly because she'll end up dragging you into it for a bit of fun). I don't think she's all that touchy feely herself, but she'll absolutely get you gifts instead– like pretty knick nacks? She'll make sure to snag any she thinks you might like. Like a good meal? Sure, she'll take you out to one of the restaurants in the city, doesn't matter how expensive. Her treat. If you do prefer physical gifts rather then being taken out, you'll eventually get used to the random unmarked letters and packages showing up where your staying pretty often. It's obvious to know who it came from even if she never signs anything.

Flirty reader, though? Whole nother can of worms and now it's a challenge. The more confident you are the more interested she is. The other acolytes would absolutely seethe at the idea but she has no hesitation at just straight up flirting back– she's as charismatic as they come and she's got a poker face that's basically impenetrable. She'll probably also make a bet to see who cracks first (she always wins, unsurprisingly). Probably won't get dragged into any of her schemes this way but if you ask politely maybe she'll consider it, anyway.

The smell of freshly brewed tea and the clatter of dice across wood was a common sight at the Yanshang Teahouse– less common was the woman secluded in the far corner, her lips pulled into a grin that flashed fangs and a look that would scare off the most confident of men.

She'd normally try to scope out any new blood that'd made the mistake of stepping into her teahouse and was equally stupid enough to accept a gamble against her just for the thrill of it, but she was far too absorbed in the warm body at her side, one of her die clasped tightly in their hand as she guided them through the motions– they had a knack for it, she had to admit. The thought made her preen, the clatter of the die as it rolled across the table giving her that subtle, familiar rush.

Even if she knew exactly where it'd land.

"Six. Hm, maybe you're just lucky," She muses, plucking the die from the table and holding it up to her eye like a prized jewel, "Or maybe you're not as innocent as you'd have us believe." There's a sharp glint in her eyes at the prospect, but everyone else has the sense to keep their heads down and their words to themselves as she tosses the die herself.

"So why don't we find out and make a bet, just between you and me?"

× ei

Varies between Ei and the Shogun, because you'll probably be seeing either as much as the other. Sometimes you gotta really squint to tell who it is sometimes, but you get used to it. Both are fairly similar, though, in that their first instinct (especially in public) is to tense up like you're about to attack them or something. Difference is Ei eventually relaxes after a solid minute of trying to process your sudden affection and, if no one else is around, she might even reciprocate. Just don't tease her for being a little stiff and awkward about it, she's trying. That's what happens when your only company is a robot and uh. Nothing. For like 500 years. She's trying. Raiden, on the other hand, is just about as awkward as you can imagine. She's polite (blunt) about it because Ei is fond of you and also you are. The Creator. But she's not really built to deal with personal relationships and so she doesn't know how to deal with affection.

..Depending on what you do you may or may not blue screen Ei hard enough that she retreats back to PoE

Ei usually isn't fond of sitting still, unless it's to meditate. At least then she goes in with a purpose, something to achieve– but now, she's just focused on trying not to make a fool of herself. Her muscles are starting to ache from how hard she's tensing, though, in an effort to sit as straight and still as possible as their hands glide through her hair, weaving it into a single braid.

She can just barely hear the subtle lilt of their voice as they hum– and though it is soothing, it is also..very distracting. She can't focus long enough to try and meditate, too lost in the gentle rise and fall of their voice and the care they take to braid her hair. If she'd had a heart, she'd sure it'd be beating so wildly against her ribcage they could hear it.

But then it stops– their hands fall back to their sides and their humming falters. She freezes, too, racking her brain for any slights she must have committed. Instead, she is met with a calm, tender touch on the back of her neck, making her inhale sharply.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Ei? You're so tense.." She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from bowing so low her head presses against the ground, her hands folded in her lap, clenching instinctively. "..No, Divine One." She answers simply, trying to contain the adoration swelling in her chest.

Yet as much as she tries to relax, to ease their worries, she finds that she cannot.

"Hm." That small murmur, a simple sound that nearly made her jump, was the only warning she got before they scooted closer, wrapping their arms around her stomach and resting their chin on her shoulder with a grin she would liken to Miko's, if she dared to make such a comparison. "Really?"

She swears she must've been feverish at the affection, lightheaded and dazed until she thought she might simply perish at the brush of their hands against her own.

Much to her embarrassment, however, she doesn't realize she's instinctively pulled back into Plane of Euthymia until she sees the familiar dull purples engulf her vision once again.

Though only a small solace, it seemed a little..brighter, this time.

× furina

Varies between pre 4.2 and post 4.2 archon quests to be honest.

Pre 4.2 she comes off as very vain– of course the most Divine would see fit to spoil her with affection! She deserves it, and is obviously their favorite! Just don't look too hard because she's terrible at hiding how flustered she actually is. Absolutely goes home right after and screams into her pillow for at least thirty minutes minimum.

Post 4.2 she's a lot more openly bashful and flustered. She's really not used to affection and even the smallest show of it has her folding immediately. Now that she doesn't need to worry about being found out she's a lot more receptive to affection. Cup her cheeks and compliment her and her knees are buckling. Like. Especially weak for compliments and praise (she deserves it. please spoil her).

She swears she must be hallucinating– she had been having trouble sleeping recently. But..no. The visage of the Creator was as real as the sweat beading on her brow as she stared at them for a long, awkward moment. Should..she let them in? But then they'd see the pathetic state she was in, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of them-!

Her choice was quickly made for her, anyway, as she let out an undignified squeak of surprise when they suddenly tugged her forward into their chest, enclosing her in a hug.

Her first reaction was to freeze– her second was becoming absolutely flustered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink and her mouth closing and opening as she tried to find her words.

"I– ah..um." She stumbled over her words instead, floundering like a fish out of water. Yet she felt a distinct sense of emptiness wash over her when they finally pulled back, looking a touch sheepish. "Sorry, sorry– you just looked like you needed a hug."

The silence spoke for itself, her shoulders tensing slightly. But the way the concern and affection bled through their voice made her waver, her hands trembling as she let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sigh.

"It's..It's fine! Fine, I'm fine." She repeated, trying desperately to ignored the way her voice cracked and how hot her face felt– though it was more an attempt to affirm herself that she was not thinking about how warm they felt, how much she..actually enjoyed the hug. She wasn't thinking about it all! Absolutely not!

..Maybe a little.

"Just warn me next time, please?"

#asks #sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #yelan #furina #ei #THIS DIDNT SHOW UP IN MY INBOX UNTIL LIKE #NOVEMBERBIM SORRY IM ANSERRING IT SO LATE?????? #tumblr working right is a miracle that will never happen #anyway can u tell i have. biases. there r so many characters I wanted to write for this (shenhe.........) but I forced myself to limit it #to 4 for my own sanity and everyones elses #also didnt know if u wanted just yan or sagau so I went for my specialty 🧍‍♂️ #was gonna include my beloved cryo archon but decided against it #ei the pathetic lesbian that u r....mwah #I'm sorry this took so long it took me 50 yrs to figure out yelan.. 😭 #i am still not confident abt my characterization of her but shes so good at her job even im confused abt her #reading her lore crying and sobbing in the corner. shaking her like a can of soda #checks note idk uhh cocky doesnt let herself form personal relationships charismatic uhhhhhhhh #idk dont ask me i just started praying and hoping for the best here #i think she'd get a kick out of getting reader into like. fudging rolls and shit. create an absolute menace out of reader #set them loose and see what chaos happens #just kicks back and watches it all unfold internally laughing her ass off #i didnt know whether to just do headcanons in uh. bulleted list or like #full on drabbles

[whohasthecards]

IceMav Drabble

Just thinking about Ice coming home to his and Mav's home after a stressful day from work. He spent the whole day putting out fires and to make things worst, had to deal with homophobic talk. He and Mav hid their relationship well, but with how they were in the Navy, he couldn't outright shut it down, just glare at the other admiral and say something about focusing on work and important shit rather than gossiping around. He comes home exhausted.

---

Ice kicks off his shoes before he leans on the doorframe to the living room. Mav grinning widely at him from his sprawled position on the couch, a box of pizza in front of him, with a bottle of cold beer, and the sounds of the NFL blasting from the TV.

He gave a small sigh before smiling back softly at his husband in everything but in the eyes of the law. Not that it matters.

Mav's face quickly changed into a frown and he jumped out of the sofa and turned off the TV as he went to stand before Ice, cupping the other man's face, Ice instinctively leaning into it.

"Hard day at work?" Mav asked softly, thumbing Tom's cheek to smooth out the wrinkles beginning to deepen.

"Yeah," Tom said wrapping his arms around Pete's waist to pull him closer and leaning forward to nuzzle into his lover's neck. Pete reciprocating by wrapping his arms around Tom's shoulders, running a hand through the hair on the base of the other man's neck.

Pete always ran warm. It made sense, Pete always had energy, always moving around, even at rest, Tom would bet that energy would be bouncing around inside of the smaller man. Too much energy for his body. Makes him the perfect teddy bear.

They stood there for a while before Tom straightened up, "wait here a bit, love," he said giving Pete a chaste kiss before going to the corner of the room where a radio sat on a small side table.

Soft notes of the piano starts playing and Tom turned to hold a hand out to Pete a smile tugging at his lips.

"Humor me?" Tom asks and Pete smiled in response as he took Tom's hand.

Wise men say, "Only fools rush in."

Tom pulled Pete close and put both his hands on the other man's hips, Pete putting his on Tom's arms, "If I could do our whole relationship again, I would have come for you faster," Tom said leaning down to kiss Pete on the side of his lips before pulling back and smiling widely, "Cause I can't help, falling in love with you."

Pete snorted as he wrapped an arm around Tom's waist, and nudged Tom to start swaying side to side in the middle of their living room.

Would it be a sin, If I can't help falling in love with you?

Tom could count more admirals he interacts with who would count it as a sin. If he counted the other sailors he had worked with, he would lose count quite easily. Although he wouldn't know what would be difficult, counting how many people would consider his and Pete's love a sin, or counting how many people would accept them? With how the world is right now, he would never know. A part of him would not want to know the former.

Tom rested his forehead on Pete's forehead, "If love is a sin, I would sin a thousand times over just for you."

Pete looked him in the eyes brows furrowed, "Tom?" Pete's face then changed from shock to anger before it softened as Pete sighed and his shoulders sagged as he cupped a hand around Tom's neck to bring him lower and press a kiss on his forehead. Then a kiss to each of his cheeks. Then one more soft kiss on the lips.

"Some things are meant to be," Pete sand softly. "Doesn't matter what they think. If our love is the only sin the great Iceman commits, then the world should be thankful," Pete said smiling widely at him.

Take my hand

Tom entwined both his and Pete's hands together, resting one on Pete's hips, softly swaying them to a slow, gentle, spin. Unlike the aerobatics they were both accustomed in participating in when they were both up in fighter jets, pushing their jets to mach speeds.

Take my whole life too.

"You have it," Tom whispered in Pete's ear.

For I can't help, Falling in love with you.

Pete framed Tom's face with his hands before surging forward to kiss him.

Thomas "Iceman" Kazansky, ice cold, no mistakes. But if there is one person who would make him stray from protocol, and one person he would gladly be a fool for, it would be Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

#fanfic #top gun maverick #pete maverick mitchell #top gun #top gun fandom #tom iceman kazansky #wow a drabble without Jake? Shocking #icemav #iceman x maverick #iceman top gun #i dont know what I wrote to be honest #let me know what you guys think of this one and my other stuff #I read them all and thank you for them

[solomonssock]

To Capture A Demon's Heart

Mammon lovers I bestow upon you my apology fic. Please, rise up and come get your boy.

I fell for him a bit more writing this frfr

Pairing: gn!reader x Mammon (romantic feelings heavily implied, no established relationship, but don't you worry - you're working on that)

TW: Mention of Lucifer's punishments, Uhuhuh awkward discussion of infernal courting behaviors, mentions of violence, lmk if there''s anything else to add, ty!

Word Count: ~5,000

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

On the rug before you lay two options: “The Wicked Woes of Demonessa” or “To Capture a Beating Heart”. 

You flip over both DVD cases to skim their synopses, fingers trailing over the printed leads in all their infernal glory. You snort to yourself at the crossroads Asmodeus has supplied you with and wonder which would be better: an all-demon romance or a demon-human romance?

Ah-actually, the question should be: which would be easier to convince Mammon to watch with you?

The answer, as always, is neither. But that won't stop you from trying.

You shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips at the thought of how he'll react to your movie selection tonight. He's late, but with good reason, so you'll forgive him. Punishment by Lucifer is punishment enough. 

You kneel up from your position on the floor, rubbing out the pins and needles that had started to form. When all feeling returns to you, you reach under your bed to drag out the thick faux fur blanket Mammon had gifted you for your birthday this year. Custom-made, a pattern of your favorite hideously-cute zombie iguana plushies are plastered across the golden spread. You push your face into the fabric, its velvety softness tickling your skin, and inhale. It smells of the same smoky cedarwood that sticks to his skin. 

You toss it onto your bed and climb up after. One-by-one you adjust your pillows so that they rest upright against the mossy wall and face the TV. You take care to put more support on your side, anticipating he'll eventually stop resisting and cuddle up to you as he often does. When you're finally satisfied with the distribution, you hop off the bed to snatch your wallet from the table nearby. You dig inside until your finger bumps into what you're looking for; a golden grimm coin. 

Both titles are appealing enough that you're impartial to either, so you'll just do a coin toss. You're more interested in the cute expressions Mammon will show you tonight anyway. 

You flip the coin off your thumb, catch it in your palm, and lay it flat on the back of your hand. You lift your palm and grin - it's head. “The Wicked Woes of Demonessa” it is. 

A knock sounds at your door.

"Hey, Human, It's me. Open the door!" You hum to yourself, bending down to pick up just one of the DVDs. You stash both your wallet and “To Capture a Beating Heart” into your backpack and plop it into the chair farthest from the bed. You look over your room one more time and nod before walking over to open the door.

There waits your pouty demon, hair all mussed up with arms crossed over his broad chest. 

"Some nerve you got, making me wait!" He huffs. You flash him a toothy smile, tugging him inside by his elbow and shutting the door behind him.

"Happy to see you too, Mam." A light flush rises to his cheeks.

"Y-yeah..happytoseeyatooidiot," he grumbles. "Did'ya pick out a movie yet?" His eyes skitter away from you to appraise your set-up. 

Dimmed fairy lights, honey-scented candle sticks lit on golden candelabras, and the golden pendant he'd gifted you during your first year in the Devildom rests proudly over the collar of your pajama shirt. Everything is intentional. Everything is for him. 

"Sure did!" You saunter over towards your bed and bend over to pick up the DVD case from off the rug. You go to open the case, but a lack of following footfalls distracts you. You look over your shoulder to find him fidgeting in the middle of your room. 

You frown. "What's wrong Mam?" 

"W-what's that smell?" His eyes flicker to and fro, scanning your space for the source.  

"Uh, well I lit some scented candles. If they're too sweet for you I can turn them off, no problem." You toss the case onto your bed before heading for the coffin-shaped bookshelf in the back. You pick through a small black lace basket filled with spell tools you're borrowing from Solomon. 

You forget sometimes how heightened their senses are compared to yours. 

"You don't gotta go making a big deal out of it. A little sweetness ain't nothin' to the Great Mammon."  He chuckles loud and proud, but you catch the way he clenches his fists at his side.

"It "ain't nothin'" if it bothers you, Mam." You admonish. You finally find the candle snuffer and lift it out of the basket. "Your comfort is my priority, alright?"

He sputters, eyes wide, and you shoot him a soft smile as you move over to the first candelabra. "Really, it's no trouble."

Before you can snuff out the first candle stick, a firm hand wraps around your wrist. "Nah, s'fine. I..I like it." Your heart does a little flip at the admission, but as you glance down at the back of his hand you frown. 

"Aw, what happened here?" Your free hand traces the indentations pressed into his skin. They aren't too deep, but they seem a little aggravated. 

"Tsch," he releases you to shove both his hands into his jacket pockets. A slight crinkle catches your attention as they settle into the tight space, but you'll worry about that later. 

"Hey, none of that. No hiding." You place the snuffer onto the table and turn to him. You hold out your hands, palms up, and wait. Mammon can only shuffle his feet and avoid your eyes for so long.

"He's getting all creative now! Damn sadist."

You purse your lips and sigh out of your nose. Lucifer only had his brother's best interests in mind, but his methods could be awfully draconian at the worst of times. You'd seen in the group chat this morning that Mammon had tried to sell photos he sneaked out of Diavolo's private chambers. You haven't a clue of how he got past Barbatos of all beings, but you don't put it past him, he certainly is one of the most driven individuals you'd ever met. Undoubtedly, Mammon tested his luck and crossed several boundaries, but your heart aches for him. He's always hated sharing the weakest parts of himself.

"We don't have to talk about it. Will you just let me help you out a bit?" You bat your eyelashes when he finally meets your gaze. He scoffs and shrugs his shoulders.

"Can't keep your hands off me, can ya?" You quirk a brow at him, a knowing look on your face. You start to lower your hands slowly, purposefully.

"That's alright, Mam. I wouldn't want to force you." Before your hands can drop to your side, he clutches them in his own.

"Who said anything about force?! See," his hands squeeze your own, "all good to go." You drag your thumbs over the knuckles encasing your own.

"Go ahead and sit down, I'll join you in a sec." You gesture to the bed and your heart does happy little flips when he gravitates straight to the zombie-iguana blanket.

"Ya still got tha damn thing?" The question comes out soft, too soft, that you wonder if it was for you to begin with.

"Course I do. My first man gave it to me!" You can't stop yourself from laughing at the way his shoulders shoot up to his ears.

"Y-yeah," he attempts to catch himself as you walk back over to the bookshelf and dig into another basket, "It was a hassle to get it made, so don't go lettin' anybody else mess with it."

"Don't worry," you tease from the other side of the room. You can't resist the opportunity to rile up his greed, "I only take it out for our movie nights."

Sparing his dignity, you don't look up from the basket as you hear him choke a bit. When he calms down you grab the lotion-salve you'd made about a week ago, good for healing any minor wounds. Smelling of bergamot with hints of lavender, it's your proudest achievement thus far.

"Actually, speaking of our movie nights...," you stand and make your way over to the bed. Already, he's shoved off his jacket and shoes, making himself at home among the pillows. As your eyes scan his toned arms you're reminded that you quite literally have a model in your bed.

"This is the first one we've had in a while, huh?" He spreads his legs as you come closer, signaling for you to sit in between them. As you join him, his eyes soften and he holds out his hands for you to take. You're humbled by the trust he places in you.

You squirt some lotion into your hand and rub your palms together to warm it up before you reach for him. He sniffs the air and sits up a bit.

"The hells that?" 

You cock your head. Does he really not like the smell this time?

"You mean the lotion?"

"Yeah! Did Asmo give you that? I don't want that flowery shit." Ah, the real issue isn't the lotion itself . Rather, that another demon may have given it to you. Despite the laugh begging to spill forth from your lips, you manage to cool your expression.

You slowly massage the cream into your skin, biting your lip at the low warning growl that leaves him. You just had to be sure. "No, Mam. Asmodeus didn't give this one to me. I made it myself." His posture relaxes considerably.

That is, until you open your mouth again.

"But, if you don't like the smell I can go give it to him. He'd probably like it, right? I can go real qu-" You don't get to finish your sentence as his hand grasps the front of your shirt, tugging you forward until you're trapped in his arms.

"Ya ain't goin nowhere."  Goosebumps prick at your skin in response to this growl. It's not a warning. It's daring you to try your luck. You move quickly to return his embrace, smoothing your hands over his backside to reassure him. "You're stayin' here with me, understand?" Warmth flows through you from head to toe. 

"So, you don't find the scent completely and utterly repulsive?" Your hands trail upwards to massage his shoulders, pushing and prodding the tense muscles. He flinches, but doesn't stop you. 

"Ah, hold on!" Something clicks as he snaps back from you, holding you back by your shoulders. "Nobody said anythin' about being repulsed! Who said they're repulsed? Not me!" 

"Oh, good!" You pull his hands off your shoulders, dropping them onto your lap as you reach over for the lotion. Again, you warm it up between your hands. "Then just sit still, alright?"

He goes down quietly, too quietly, that you make sure to watch his face for any discomfort as you reach for the first hand. A touch to his skin surprises you. His hand is rougher than you expect, but you mask your curiosity and don't hesitate to place your hands atop his. The last thing you want is for him to recede into himself when you've finally gotten this far into whatever is happening between the two of you. You can ask about the rough calluses on his palm another day.

You start with the lines indented over his fingers, carefully kneading the skin as he hisses under his breath. His eyes, a blend of ocean and golden sun, remain transfixed on where your skin meets. But, his face is marred by a deep frown that makes your blood run cold. Did you overstep somewhere? 

"What's running through your mind?" You work your way onto his palm, tenderly rubbing the faded scars littered across the expanse of skin. The lotion can't heal something that has already come to pass. Nor can you, but you'll hold him here for as long as he'll let you. 

A sigh leaves him. "Don't go treatin' me like I'm fragile. I'm supposed to protect you, got it?"

 He's right, he's not fragile. Beneath the glamor he's taut, tough skin, with sharp fangs and leathery wings that could tear you to shreds. But, he's also the same demon who seeks you out for comfort after punishments or a big loss at the casino. The same demon who sits through horror movies if it means he'll have an excuse to spend the night with you. The demon who would truly do anything you asked of him - and that's not a power you wield lightly. 

You pat his hand with a smile to let him know you're finished and hold out your hands for him once more. You'll let him decide if he wants to continue.

"Hey, don't you dare ignore me!" Plopping his hand into yours immediately defeats the tough tone he's put on. You start from the top and repeat the motion, fingers to palm. A rush of boldness overcomes you as you press into the callouses. You adore this demon. You wish he could see himself the way you see him. 

"I know you're not fragile, Mam." You finish up the massage, but don't let go. You watch as the indentations gradually fade into even skin. "But, you're precious to me. I treasure what's precious to me. You get that, don't you?" 

Your stomach drops as silence greets you. At the very least, you think, it's a good sign that he hasn't pulled his hand away from you. You drop both of your hands into your lap and fidget with his fingers.

"You mean that?" You never knew Mammon's voice could sound so meek. 

You lift your eyes to his, grasping his hand tightly between your own. Wide eyes, mouth parted, and brows furrowed. Even like this, he's a vision.

"I mean it, Mam." 

At once, his cheeks are aflame. "I-you!" He stammers. A laugh rips from your chest, relieved that he didn't a) run out of the room or b) hide away from you. You want to tease him more, but you hold back. Instead, you reach over to pick up the DVD from off your comforter and savor this milestone between the two of you.

"Ready for the movie?" You ask, getting up from the bed.

"Huh? Oh that, yeah, yeah." He seems a bit dazed. 

"You feeling ok?" You lean over, lifting your hand to feel his forehead, but his hand catches yours before you reach him. 

"I'm fine! The hell we watching anyway?" You use your free hand to show him the DVD cover. The two demonic leads stand before each other, hand in hand, leaning in for a kiss under the title. 

"The Wicked Woes of Demonessa?!" He sounds exasperated. "W-where'd you get that junk?! We ain't watching that!"

"What, why not?" You pout, giving him puppy dog eyes.

"That's some mind poison! All it's good for is rottin' ya brain." He snarls, but you know you've got him. A little nudging is all he needs.

"Oh." You sigh, purposefully. "Well, if you don't want to watch it with me, I'm sure Beel or Mo wouldn't mind." "Like he-" "Or-" You counter before he can start running his mouth. "We can watch another movie I borrowed as a back-up."

Mammon eyes you suspiciously. "What other movie are ya hidin', human?"

You have to be a little evil in this back-and-forth or you'll never get anywhere. So, you shuffle over to the TV stand and grab the unopened DVD case resting next to the DVD player. You show him the cover and watch as he immediately recoils.

"ARE YA CRAZY?!" He shrieks. A myriad of ghosts with tormented expressions erupt from the house that rests above the title that reads: The Horrible Haunting of Hollow Hill Manner. 

"What?" You ask like it's not the most peculiar and pointed selection to ensure you two watch your movie of choice this evening.

"What?" He mocks your casual tone. "Who're ya borrowin' that from?"

"Satan." Your smile comes easy. "He recommended this one, it's a murder mystery that takes place in a haunted house. Apparently, it's based on a true story."

"A TRUE WHAT?!" He throws the fur blanket over himself, leaving only his head submerged. 

"Mammon," you snort, "you're literally one of the most powerful beings in existence. Fourth most powerful in all the Devildom."

You can't see his chest puff up, but you know him well enough to know it does. 

"E-exactly!" He exclaims. "I can take on anything. Some cheap old trick movie like that won't scare me, nuh-uh, it'll  just be a snoozefest."

"I see," you smirk, "then some cliche romance flick shouldn't be too bad, right? Wouldn't want you falling asleep on me." Hook, line, and sinker.

You pay Mammon's complaints no mind as you open the DVD case and pull out the disk. You pop it into the DVD player, thrilled you get to watch a classic demonic romance unfold. You've been curious for some time now about how romance in the Devildom differs from the Human Realm. The plot seemed entertaining enough, but really you were curious about the customs. You wanted to woo him on his terms, in a way he couldn't blow off as some human schtick. 

You press play and pad back over to your bed. He's pouty, so you decide to sit next to him and hold out on getting under the blanket with him.You'll wait until the mood passes and give him his space.You can feel his stare digging into you as the opening soundtrack plays, but you manage to keep your focus on the screen. For a couple of minutes you two sit like this.

"Why're ya bein' like that?" He accuses.

"Like what?" You snap your head to him, eyes widening as you see him sit up, blanket falling off his shoulders and into his lap.

"Distant." He huffs, looking away from you. "Y-you said you treasure what's precious to ya, right?" 

Your heart is about to fucking explode. You don't waste a minute, wrapping your arm around his and tugging at him to face you. 

"You looked upset, so I wanted to give you your space." You utter, softly. "Would you be ok if I joined you under the blanket?" 

He scoffs, lifting the blanket up and over you. "Like ya even hav'ta ask." Earlier in the night than you've anticipated, he cuddles into your side with his head resting on your chest. You can't read his face from this angle, but a subdued purr rumbling through him assures you he's comfortable. 

You two sit like this throughout the first half of the movie. It's an interesting premise concentrated on the love between a demon of nobility and a commoner of great strength who has been hired to train the noble in the art of war.  Later on, it's revealed that the commoner's unprecedented strength is due to them being an illegitimate child of a Great General of the East. The noble's father, a Recordkeeper, has hidden away documents proving the commoner's lineage at their father's request. Thus, they come to the castle under the guise of an instructor and soon find their plans disrupted when they begin to fall for the Recordkeeper's heir. 

Your curiosity is piqued as displays of what you presume is affection come onto the screen. "Hey Mam, I thought they liked each other, so why are they wrestling like that right now?"  

It's a more violent display than you expect, but you're entranced as their jaws snap, teeth are bared, and claws dig into skin. The leads throw each other against any surface within the weapon storehouse, stopping the other before they can plan an escape.  You look down at Mammon to find him hiding his face into your shirt, the tips of his ears tinged red.

"It's a show of strength." He mumbles into your shirt.

"A show of strength...," you repeat thoughtfully, "is that common in courtship here?"

Mammon groans, hiding further into your shirt. "I don'wanna talk about this. Don't they teach ya shit like that in your Demon Studies course or somethin'?"

"Unfortunately, no. The topic has never come up." Demon Studies has solely focused on social, political, and institutional relationships within the Devildom. Nothing interpersonal as far as you can remember.

"What?! Well they should, some silly 'ol human isn't gonna just pick up on that." 

"Well," you drag your fingers through his hair, "think you could enlighten me?" 

He peeks up at you with a glare. "Whad'ya wanna know?" The topic seems sensitive, so you tread lightly.

"Could you tell me what a common courtship is like here? You don't have to be detailed or anything. Like, are there steps?" Most of the romance movies you've seen during your time here have been pirated by Leviathan from the human realm. 

Again, Mammon hides his face from you. You are about to suggest you two move past the topic when he finally speaks up.

"Yeah. Yeah there are steps." You stay silent, but keep running your hand through his hair.

"Y'noticed how the noble started sendin' letters? Or how once they got a response from the sword swinger they started includin' trinkets or whatever with 'em?" A moment of silence passes and he peeks up at you. It hits you that he's waiting on you to respond.

You smile bashfully. "Oh, yes! Yes, I noticed."

He huffs. "It started then. Goin' all out with gifts, tryin' to impress each other like lunatics."

"Are trinkets usually given?" You ask.

"Mm," he hums, "yeah, but gifts are as varied as demons. Some prefer other things: food, poems, flowers, the heart of your greatest enemy, buncha stuff."

"Huh-" Did you hear that correctly? 

"The heart of your greatest enemy?" You parrot.

"What, ya sayin' humans don't do that anymore?" You shake your head. 

"None that I've met at least." You don't doubt that humans have done it at some point in time, but it sounds more like some distant wartime practice from the Middle Ages or earlier. 

"Still happens here. It's a show of strength and dedication, proof ya can kick any ass that comes threatinin' your potential mate." He seems to be relaxing more and more as you delve deeper into the topic. 

"So, the wrestling...?" 

"Show of strength. They're pretty equally matched, even though the lovebirds run in different circles. Makes 'em decent partners at least." You feel your mind expanding with the revelation that this scene is way deeper than you've realized. Despite the commoner's standing, they've been in control for most of the wrestling match. 

"Ooooh!" You take a minute to ponder. 

"So, demons won't usually go for someone weaker than them?"

"Bingo."

You wonder what this means for you two. You certainly aren't as strong enough as a demon, and especially not as strong as the Avatar of Greed. 

You lose your train of thought as Mammon sits up more to face you, poking you in the forehead.

"Doesn't mean they never will." You relax your face at his touch, you hadn't realized it was scrunched up so much. 

"It's not all about how tough ya are. It's 'bout how they make ya feel too. A courtship is pretty serious stuff, you don't pursue somethin' that intense with just any old schmuck."

Mammon's eyes follow your hand as it reaches to fiddle with the golden pendant he gifted you. In the middle lies some gemstone you can't find in the human world. It's clear with specks of gold and blue. He blushes and coughs into his fist.

"If it continues after that, it gets pretty serious pretty fast. Ya start scentin' each others stuff, which is a pretty ballsy move."

Your eyebrows jump up at this unexpected development. "Scenting...?"

"Yeah, puttin' your scent out so they know who ya belong to. No human nose is gonna pick up on somethin' subtle like that, but it's there." Wait, so does that mean-

"Is the house scented? Can it just be anything?" Mammon looks at you as if you've just grown another head.

"Huh?! No!" Embarrassment warms your cheeks.

"Why would we go wastin' energy like that? That's crazy. If anything is scented, it's intentional and nothin' time consumin'." You shrug your shoulders.

"Ah, ok. I didn't know." You fiddle some more with the pendant, looking away from him.

"Ack, no don't feel bad!" His face is just as flushed as yours, but he continues. "You didn't ask anything stupid. There's no way ya could've known!" You can't stop the giddy grin that pulls at your lips as he attempts to comfort you. You face him again.

"So, what happens next? If you're already doing something like that, aren't you practically together?" 

"Practically, but not officially." He grumbles. "Buncha kids go around scentin' each other thinkin' they're in love. The scent fades as fast as the feelin's." He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh.

"It's official when ya make it official. A spoken agreement between partners. No bullshittin'."

"That's it?" You try to sidestep the microscopic lens of human tunnel vision, but a spoken agreement feels less official than marriage in the human world. Joint assets, joint families, and rings as proof of being claimed.

"Whad'ya mean "that's it?"?! All and everything you really feel. Ya gotta say it and ya gotta mean it. It's a bindin' contract that's a bitch to ever try and break." It clicks for you then. A demon's word is binding.

"Like a pact, but for romantic partners?"

Mammon ponders for a moment before he nods. "That's not too far off. Little more goes into it, but it's complicated." The lull that comes after feels like the end of the conversation, so you take your chance.

"Mammon, has anyone tried courting you before?"

"Hah, of course!" His grin is as smug as it always is. "Who wouldn't want to take a chance to be with The Great Mammon?" He laughs to himself, but you wonder-

"Have you ever accepted an attempt?" You're curious.

"Uh-" The question catches him off guard. "Y-yeah. A handful of times, but it never went anywhere." You're a little disappointed, but you swallow down your pride. It would be more concerning if he'd never tried to find love throughout the milleniums he's lived. 

You shift your line of questioning. You'd rather focus on the present and this momentous opportunity lined up before you.

"So, say I were to get you something. What would you like?" You've never seen his head whip around so fast, truly inhuman speed as he jumps back from you and slams into the headboard.

"The hell, MC?!" His face, ears, and what you can see of his neck, everywhere is flushed at your implication. This is just as embarrassing for you, but you feel emboldened by the security of your room, the sweet scent of honey in the air, and the declarations of love coming from the movie that still runs in the background.

"What about a pendant to match mine? Would you wear something like that if I got it for you?" You've come so close. You won't give up now. 

"W-why would I want somethin' like that?" You know it's a deflection. He wouldn't have stayed with you, here and now, if it wasn't. But, you're tired of it. You only want it if he wants it too. No bullshitting, right?

"Nevermind then, Mam. Don't worry, I won't get you anything. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." You reach for the remote that fell to the floor during all the commotion. "We don't have to finish the mo-"

You squeal in shock as Mammon throws himself into you. It's enough force to knock you back onto the pillows sprawled all over. You're speechless as he hides his face into your neck. He's never gotten this close to you. 

"S'fine." His grip on you tightens. "A matching necklace, s'good."

You can't contain yourself. "Mam, look at me."

He hums but doesn't move.

"Mammon, look at me." You're gentle with him as you cup his cheeks. 

"Seriously, you would accept it?" 

"Now you're just bein' cruel. I said it's good, didn't I?!" You can feel the sting of tears building. You don't think you've ever been this happy. 

You rub your thumbs over his cheeks. "Hey, Mam?"

"Whatd’ya want now?" 

"Can I kiss you?"  

In an instant, you're pressed back into the pillows, Mammon's lips on yours. It's not fireworks like humans talk about, nor the clashing of fangs as demons might do. It's tender and filled with a longing buried deep within the soul. It's messy. It's unexpected. It's perfect. 

You pull back to catch your breath and are touched by the unshed tears in Mammon's glassy eyes. It seems the sensation was mutual.

"I love you, Mam." 

You can figure out what this means for you two going forward tomorrow. You can ask about the callouses on his hands or for the stories of hardship behind the scars. You can discuss where courtships went wrong for you both, talk through your communication struggles, and love each other openly without fear. You're just so happy, really, that he'll let you love him. 

"I love ya too, MC."  He settles back into your arms, and you two lay there for some time, movie all but forgotten.

It's when the credits roll that Mammon shoots up, rushing to grab his jacket.

"Ah, shit!" He digs into his jacket pockets, pulling out a couple bags of hellfire twists. Your shared favorite movie treat.

"I meant to give this to ya earlier. So, ya know, we could have a snack during the movie." You chuckle at him as he rubs the back of his neck.

"We still can. Ever heard of ``To Capture a Beating Heart”?"

#For the purposes of this drabble you have a TV in your room and yes Levi did let you borrow it because it’s an older model and you know he’s #Absolute king shit Leviathan ty for hooking your brother up #I fr did a coin toss for this one and it was heads #so sorry to those who might have been interested in the plot of to capture a beating heart #I listened to the Born to Die Album Paradise Edition for the entirety of this #Off to the Races screams Mammon and I will not be persuaded otherwise #I took a some things I thought would be interesting and contrary to human culture and tossed them into the courtship #Also hello everyone I did not expect anyone to read or enjoy my things and I'm so very happy to share my little musings with you all #mammon obey me #lucifer obey me #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #mammon x reader #reader x mammon #obey me x reader #obey me reader #obey me reader insert #obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #omomtrta #mammon x mc #obey me mc #mammon x you #mammon x y/n #demonic courting #courting rituals #obey me satan

[good-beanswrites]

If it's okay with you, could you write a drabble about the hypothetical aftermath of Amane getting attacked by Kotoko?

Welp thank you pal for making me absolutely insane with this request 👍 I ran through a few hypotheticals and realized I had to shift some things around since there were so many absolutely tragic outcomes. I worked something out but damn if it didn’t make me emotional to think about how uniquely rough Amane has it. Even making sure she's in a good place at the end, this got pretty serious, so warnings for child abuse and cult references. 

(So in canon, Kotoko goes in order and attacks Fuuta, but Kazui steps in. Then she attacks Mahiru while he’s distracted with his injuries. She’s about to attack Amane, but Mikoto gets in the way (my hc that he did it on purpose survives!). By the time they reach a draw, Kazui is back, and the two of them can prevent Kotoko from any further action against Amane. Sticking to this apparent system of three attacks and one rescue, I’m just shuffling around the injuries for this story. Fuuta’s attack went unnoticed, and he’s in the same state as canon Mahiru. Mikoto steps in before Kotoko can fight Mahiru, so Mappi’s the one who get out physically unscathed. While Mikoto checks on Mahiru, recovers himself, or discovers Fuuta, Kotoko is able to attack Amane next. Kazui comes to help, but not before she leaves Amane looking like canon Fuuta.)

Mahiru could practically feel her heart shatter into a million pieces when Amane finally cried in front of her. She hadn’t shed a single tear yesterday – it was the shock, Shidou said. Mahiru was skeptical. After all, she had been shocked, too, and cried plenty.

Amane woke as she came in with breakfast. She took a moment to survey herself, bandages peeking out from beneath her pajamas and an eyepatch securely over her right eye. As calmly as one might say “good morning,” she started to cry. Mahiru might have missed it, if Amane hadn’t wiped at her good eye with her sleeve.

“Oh, sweetheart…!” Mahiru rushed over to her. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She wanted nothing more than to wrap the girl in a secure embrace, but she remembered the mass of bandages that were around her chest. Shidou had mentioned broken ribs and bruises. It took everything in her not to cry along with Amane, at the thought.

“I can get you another ice pack, if you need. Or more medicine.” Her mind spun with ways to help with pain. Many of the first aid supplies had been used to keep Fuuta from the brink of death, but surely there were extras to spare for Amane. 

The girl just shook her head. 

She muttered, “I can’t… I…I’m going to be punished, I’m going to be punished…”

“No! You’re safe now.” Mahiru placed her hands gently on Amane’s arms. “Kotoko’s not coming back. We’re all watching over you. You’re safe. She’s not going to hurt you anymore.” 

“That’s not…” Amane pulled away. Her voice stayed level, despite hiccups interrupting her. A hand reached up to her eyepatch. “It’s this. It’s all of this. It’s sinful. I took it off last night, but he must have…” She started unwrapping it. “They’re going to punish me...” 

With a careful motion, Mahiru held it in place and took Amane’s hands into her own. She’d been picking up on the signs ever since they arrived here together, and a final wave of understanding washed over her. 

“I can’t let you do that.”

Amane’s expression twisted, though words came out far more frantic than fiery. “Let me go.” 

Mahiru didn’t. “I’m sorry. Amane, you need this treatment.”

“That is not your decision to make. That is not any human’s decision to make.”

Mahiru pressed her lips together. “I know. But I can’t watch as you… I can’t sit by again while someone…” She was careful not to apply any pressure, but she could no longer fight the urge to gather Amane up in her arms. “You don’t need to be afraid of those people, anymore.”

“I’m not afraid.” Amane hiccuped. “They love me, and I love them. I need to be good for them.”

“I love you, and I don’t want to see you in pain.”

“You just pity me because I’m young.”

“Why does your age matter? You are a lovely young woman – you are my friend – and I can’t bear to see you in pain.”

The two sat in silence for a moment. Mahiru doubted she would take that as an answer; Amane had refused to call any of the others her friend. At least she didn’t argue. In fact, it seemed she was leaning into the embrace a bit more. She sighed a shaky breath into Mahiru’s uniform.

“Listen, Amane. Can you do me a favor? I’m trying to be a good girl, too. To make up for something awful, I need to make sure you’re alright. Can you help me? Can we be good together?”

A long pause followed. Amane’s voice spoke up, ever so gently.

“I suppose I can consider it.” She added quickly, “for the sake of your redemption. Of course.”

“Of course.”

#milgram #amane momose #mahiru shiina #thank you so much! i dont want to be bubbly on such a serious drabble but i want to give an enthusiastic thanks because this one really got #the gears turning!! #i started making plans as soon as i saw the ask and it took so long finding something that wouldnt result in straight up tragedy :( #if i kept to the initial timeline and said kazui didnt step in until amanes attack then both fuuta and mahiru would be close to death #and given there seems to limited supplies i think one of them would have died if shidou needed to treat three critical patients #so i moved people around to make sure everyone survived #which brought me to the main problem of amane self sabotaging her medical care #even minor injuries could have resulted in death if she got her way and removed bandages/refused treatment #but the mental strain of keeping the treatment would be just as bad as the physical pain -- shed be paranoid 24/7 of #divine punishment and repeating the mistakes that led her here.... it would hurt more to be forced like that #so i needed someone to be able to get through to her gently #but the only one who shes been able to trust just got the shit beat out of him and is in no position to talk!!!! #everyone else would just make her more upset or not know how to convince her the right way :( #still - i think mahiru could do it the best! with her own trauma from allowing loved ones to die in front of her i think shed be motivated #so. yeah. #i know amane is supposed to be talking in the plural pronoun now but i couldnt get it to work - lets just say that kicks in soon after this #tw cults #tw child abuse #drabbles

[attic-club-sandwich]

Finally finished your request for you, Anon! I really appreciate your patience as I worked through this. I seriously was having a hard time for a little while omg. But I wrote for the 7 brothers and of course included Satan! If you can let me know what you think 💜

Summary: MC's hands are always a bit on the sweaty side, especially when they are nervous. When the brother ask them out on a date, they are extra on edge! A little bullet point style drabble on how the 7 brothers would react to you being hesitant about holding their hand for the first time. Based early on in their relationship with MC.

Taglist: @amberrskiies, @obey-me-posts, @sassykattery, @delphi-dreamin, @bite-sized-devil, @a-hidden-gem, @otomefoxystar, @siofrantic, @todothedodo, @marvelous-maniac, @nonbinary-disaster, @selfmadender, @animeismyhappyplace, @vampire-tr4mp, @gaychaosgremlin

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flower divider by @/saradika

I'll Hold all Your Worries

You were always painfully aware of how nervous you got around the brothers. They were to put it one way, drop dead gorgeous. Ethereal. Beauty unlike you've ever seen before. They may be demons, but their presence always managed to take your breath away. When things started to get a little more romantic with him though, you were hesitant. You could feel your palms begin to sweat when you went places with him, and you spent a majority of the time worrying and overthinking how disgusted he would be with you for it.

Lucifer:

When the day of your date with Lucifer finally comes, the butterflies in your stomach will not settle down.

You're heading to the human world today to visit a museum, and his outfit of choice has your head spinning.

The black turtle neck tucked into dress pants. The navy blue blazer. And....

Those damn glasses.

He notices right away how nervous you are.

But he stays quiet for now, not wanting to add to your discomfort.

You're walking together down a long corridor of the museum, admiring the many famous works of art.

You can feel your heart racing.

Your palms beginning to sweat.

And of course, his fingers brush against yours.

You squeak, pulling your hand away.

"MC? Is everything alright?"

You nod, your face flushing once more.

"I-It's just my um...hand...it's really sweaty. You shouldn't have to hold it...it's gross..."

He tilts his head, confused.

"That's why you don't want to hold my hand?"

The floor is very interesting to you as you nod, trying to avoid his worried gaze.

Suddenly, his long fingers are lacing themselves between yours.

"My love, I've experienced far worse things than a sweaty palm."

He brings your hand up to his lips, gently placing a kiss to the back.

"L-Lucifer...but..."

He chuckles, squeezing your hand.

"MC, I could never be disgusted by you. You are truly the most beautiful being in the entire three realms. I would be honored to hold your hand."

Your heart feels like it's soaring as you gaze up at him, wide-eyed.

"Let's head down this way shall we?"

You nod, a wide smile on your face as he guides you down the hall hand and hand.

Mammon

You stood nervously in the entryway of HoL waiting for him.

Mammon had finally got the courage to ask you out on a date.

A date. With The Avatar of Greed.

Needless to say, you were nervous.

You twisted your hands together, noticing that they were becoming noticeably sweaty.

Of course, you thought. They always get like this during the worst moments...

When he greets you, his face is flushed and he's stuttering.

"H-Hey, MC. Are ya um, ready to go?"

You can tell he's also nervous, which makes you giggle.

The two of you walk side by side to Devil Town.

He planned to take you out to lunch as well as shop around the many storefronts together.

As you walk down the cobblestone road Mammon bumps your shoulder, grinning.

You practically melt at his smile.

His golden-blue gaze was shimmering with nothing but adoration.

"What?" you ask, grinning.

He shakes his head, blushing again. "N-Nothin! I was uh, just wonderin' if you'd uh... hold my hand?"

You feel as if your heart skips a beat.

Your hand was definitely still damp with sweat.

But you want to hold his hand so bad....

"W-Well um.. It's just... I don't want you to be disgusted with me is all..."

Mammon is confused.

"Whaddya mean? Why would I be disgusted?"

You blush, staring down at your feet as you walk.

"My hand is so sweaty right now, I'm sorry."

To your surprise, he laughs.

"That's all? C'mon MC like that's gonna bother me!"

You feel his hand grasp yours, lacing his fingers in between your own.

"See? Not so bad is it?"

You feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

"You're sure you don't mind...?"

Mammon stops, turning you to face him.

"Of course not! You're um... really cute ya know? I've been wanting to do this for a long time now."

Now your face is really burning. "M-Me too... thank you Mams."

He grins, giving your hand a firm squeeze.

"I'll hold your hand all day. I'm never lettin' go."

Leviathan

You hesitate, taking a deep breath before knocking on Levi's door.

The two of you planned a movie night together, but this time it was...

A date.

After a few more moments, you finally got the courage to knock.

"C-Come in!"

You enter his room to see Levi adding the finishing touches to his bathtub, which is placed in front of his TV and has been filled with several blankets and pillows.

A small table filled with snacks stands right beside it for easy access.

"Wow, Levi, this looks so cozy!"

He smiles, nodding enthusiastically.

"Come on, we're all ready to go!"

He climbs in first, settling against the back of the tub.

Then it's your turn. You nestle yourself in front of him, right between his legs.

He pulls the blankets up over the both of you, and hits the remote to start the movie.

"Are you comfortable?" he whispers as the previews begin to play.

You nod. Hopefully he doesn't feel how fast your heart is beating.

Suddenly, you feel his hand moving, brushing against your wrist.

You flinch, pulling your own hand away.

"A-Ah, s-sorry...!" he blushes.

You shake your head, embarassed.

"N-No it's okay! It's just that um..."

You glance down at your now open palm.

"I'm a little nervous... so it's kinda sweaty... I know it's gross, I'M gross...so you don't have to touch it..."

Levi talks down on himself a lot, but he will not stand for you doing it to yourself.

"N-No! I want to! I-I mean... it doesn't bother me..."

He grasps your hand and your heart flutters.

"L-Levi..." you turn your head to glance at him, and he's bright red.

He's staring straight at the TV, unable to look you in the eyes.

After the initial shock of him grabbing your hand, you giggle.

He finally looks at you, still blushing.

"I-Is this okay?"

You nod, bringing your hands to rest on your chest.

"More than okay."

He smiles, hugging you just a bit closer to him.

"I won't let go the entire time!"

Satan

You had butterflies in your stomach the entire walk to the cafe.

Today you were on a date with The Avatar of Wrath himself.

Satan.

How did you get here? How were you so lucky?

Satan is another one to notice your nervousness.

So he tries to do what he can to ease your anxieties.

He orders your drink for you, knowing exactly how you take your coffee.

He's studied you for a long time, after all.

As you're sitting at the table sipping on your drinks, he rests his chin on his hand.

"Thank you for coming with me, today."

You give him a shy smile, suddenly nervous under his emerald green stare.

He's so beautiful...

"O-Of course! I love spending time with you."

He slides his other hand across the table, gently touching his fingertips to yours.

You can feel the palm of your hand sticking to the table.

Oh.

Not good.

You pull your hand back, your internal panic evident on your face.

"MC? What's the matter? I thought..."

His head tilted slightly, his blonde bangs falling into his eyes.

You glance away, your face flushing with embarrassment.

"I have this thing... when i'm nervous..."

You wipe your palms on your lap.

"My hands get disgustingly sweaty. I don't want you to have to touch them..."

Satan narrows his eyes. "Who told you it was disgusting?"

You glance back up at him, surprised at his tone.

"W-What? Um, no one I guess... Just me."

Satan reaches for your hand, gently clasping it in his.

"Well let me be the first one to tell you that I've been longing to touch you for quite some time now."

Blushing, you feel yourself squeezing his hand.

"I feel the same way."

The two of you sit hand in hand as the sounds of the cafe begin to fade away.

Only you exist to him right now.

And he's already made up his mind that he's going to hold your hand as much as possible.

Asmodeus

When Asmo asked you out on a date, you thought you were dreaming.

The Avatar of Lust? Interested in ME?

But here you were, trailing nervously behind Asmo as he took you to the biggest mall in the Devildom.

"You're gonna love this, MC! I'll show you all of my favorite stores!"

You began to sweat.

Was it out of nervousness or excitement?

You weren't sure which one.

After sometime of going in and out of several different stores, Asmo had already bought quite a few things.

"I want to buy you something too, MC!"

He went to grab for your hand, which was terribly sweaty.

"U-Um, wait..." you mumbled, slipping your hand behind you and attempting to wipe it off on your pants.

"What's wrong, darling? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable..."

You shake your head, keeping your gaze focused on the floor.

"N-No it's not that...It's just..."

He guided you over to a bench, sitting you down next to him.

"Tell me."

His eyes are full of nothing but concern for you as he focuses completely on you.

"My hands get really sweaty when I'm nervous. I don't think you should touch them..."

Asmo pouted, sticking out his bottom lip.

"But, MC, I don't care about that!"

You finally looked him in the eyes.

"But...Asmo... you wouldn't be disgusted by me...?"

Asmodeus reaches a hand out, touching your cheek.

"I could never be disgusted by you, MC! You're so adorable and cute, I would be the one honored to hold your hand."

You blush, folding your hands together in your lap.

Cautiously, Asmo reaches down to grasp one of your hands.

"Let's try again. Is that okay?"

You nod. Your heart is practically in your throat at this point.

He gently clasps his hand in his, and pulls you up from the bench.

"Let's get some ice cream from the food court. That always cheers me up! You have to get the strawberry okay?"

You giggle as he leads the way, your hand in his and the several shopping bags in the other.

"Let's go, MC! After our ice cream we still have so many more shops to cover!"

Beelzebub

You had become a lot closer with Beel lately.

So when he asked you out to dinner one day, you were equally surprised and excited.

You were feeling almost euphoric as you sat with him at a table for two in Ristorante Six.

He was engulfed in his plate of food, but also couldn't seem take his eyes off of you.

Of course, you were in a similar state.

His violet eyes and red hair always had your heart soaring.

It was hard to look away.

The two of you finished up and began to head back to HoL.

"That was so good, Beel. Thanks for inviting me."

He glanced down at you, giving you a warm smile.

"You're welcome. I love eating food with you, MC. I hope you'll go with me again sometime."

You feel your face heat up.

Suddenly you're nervous.

Finally being alone with him had you sweating.

That also included your hands, which had a horrible habit of sweating anytime you felt even a hint of nervousness.

As you walk side by side, you feel his fingers brush against yours.

You loved his hands. They were big and comforting.

And you wanted to hold them so bad but...

"S-Sorry Beel um... I can't..."

He stops in his tracks, panic flashing across his face.

"No I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong...?"

You melt at the sadness in his eyes.

"No! Not at all... I just um.. my hands are so sweaty right now. I know it's disgusting..."

Beel furrows his eyebrows, clearly confused.

"Oh... But I don't think that's disgusting."

You glance up at him, surprised. "You don't?"

He nods, gently grasping your warm hand in his.

"Mine are sweaty, too."

You giggle, "Are you also nervous?"

Now it's his turn to chuckle.

"A little bit, I didn't think you'd say yes to a date with me."

You blush, leaning into him. "I'm looking forward to our next one."

Belphegor

You never thought you would be having a date with The Avatar of Sloth.

He had asked you to meet him in the garden that evening.

You weren't sure what he had planned, but your tummy was full of butterflies as you made your way to the garden.

When you arrive, you see Belphie spreading out a blanket onto the grass.

"Hi, MC. I'm glad you made it."

You walk over, helping him adjust the blanket.

"I wanted to show you the stars tonight."

You glance up to the sky, noticing the dozens of glimmering stars.

"The stars...?"

He nods, "Yeah, they are different than the human world stars."

As you lay down together on the blanket, you keep one hand crossed over your chest.

You're feeling nervous.

Being alone and in the dark with Belphegor?

It made your heart speed up so much you were sure he could hear it.

You watch as Belphie points to different constellations in the sky.

He tells you about every single one, not missing a single detail.

"Wow." you breathe, "You know a lot about them huh?"

He chuckles. "I spent a lot of time studying them."

A few moments of silence pass when he suddenly reaches for your hand which is now laying between the two of you.

You blush as you pull away slightly, feeling that the palm of your hand has become embarrassingly damp.

"S-Sorry. I...didn't think..."

You feel your face burning.

"It's just my hand... it's sweaty, I didn't want you to be surprised and get grossed out..."

He chuckles, propping himself up on his elbow.

"You really think I'd be grossed out by you? I'm the one that asked you on a date."

You blush. He had a point.

"I-I guess you're right."

He smirks, slowly reaching towards your hand again.

"Can I touch you, MC?"

You nod slowly, allowing him to lace his fingers in between yours.

He smiles, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Your hand is soft and warm.... I like it."

He's blushing now, although he hopes you don't notice.

You do.

"Now don't let go of it okay? I'm not done telling you about the stars."

#cass writes #requests #anon #i hope you see this sweetie! #let me know if you do! #obey me #obey me! shall we date? #obey me! one master to rule them all #obey me brothers #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me drabble #lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #leviathan x mc #satan x mc #asmodeus x mc #beelzebub x mc #belphegor x mc #obey me writing

[xhanisai]

hey lads if you’re not gonna comment on a fic you enjoyed, at least leave a kudos man

#delete later #on like half of the stories i've written on ao3 or more #i don't even get 10% of the viewers leaving kudos on my work and that's just kinda tiring man #we've come so far from the fanfiction.net days where writers solely thrived on comments and private messages to KNOW if their work is well #received by the online people #now you can just press a BUTTON to know that you enjoyed a story and it only takes like half a second! #there are so many people online who are constantly BEGGING everyone to PLEASE comment or review or let them know somehow that you've enjoyed #their work because we get so little feedback often and it is demotivating af #but if you're not gonna comment AT least leave a kudos rather than staying silent and consuming the stories like it's nothing #one thing i loved in the beginning of the ml fandom was how interactive everyone was with fanfics and how it had such a positive status #people were happily reblogging and leaving kudos and commenting LOADS back then #now???? it's literally SILENCE #back when my writing was worse prepandemic i easily got hundreds of kudos in a few days #but now i'm struggling to reach even 200 kudos in three months on my newer oneshots #engagement rate is soooooo bad now and it's demotivating af #i think this is why i prefer to write and send drabbles on discord because people there do respond and react to my works and it gives me the #push to keep going

[ghosts-cyphera]

replies are completely anonymous <3

-> link to the new drabble <-

#what a poll lmao #pornstar!ghost #I’m just trying to see what keeps you all fed <3 #I don’t have any sort of plan for each part when I start writing them #I really just channel the story lmao and let it go where it wants to go #and yesterday’s drabble turned really really cute which shook me but also made me happy? #let me know what you think <3 #lo polls

[serenescribe]

Spoilers ahead for the latest parts of Chapter 7! Speed-wrote this with only Twitter live-tweeting threads for context. Might not be accurate to canon but who cares about that when the tragedy is impeccable?

What happens if you die within a dream?

Silver thinks he should know the answer to that — or more precisely, the answer in normal circumstances. If things were not as dire as they are now, if he and everyone else were not locked away in the throes of a dream they cannot wake up from, he knows what would happen. He would wake up easily, jolting upright as panic grips his heart, panting as his mind struggles to calm itself from the weight of a nightmare he cannot remember.

But things are not normal, and Silver is scared.

He is scared and in pain, sprawled out against the forest floor. His weapon has been tossed carelessly to the side, disarmed by the person pressing his weapon against his throat, and for some reason, perhaps because he is incapacitated and hurting, energy sapped from a battle he had not wanted to fight, he is unable to jump dreams again.

(And, to be honest, he doesn’t want to leave, to find another person’s dream and take refuge there, if only for a little while. This is Lilia’s dream, his father’s dream, and Silver refuses to leave without him by his side.)

And, as Silver presses himself as closely against the bloodstained grass as he can, pushing away from the sharp weapon the best he can, all he can think is, Ah. I finally understand.

He has heard stories all throughout his life — about his father’s might as the revered General Vanrouge of Briar Valley. His name is admired for a reason, respected far and wide across the valley. And though Lilia did not take down Silver immediately in their battle, the reflexes honed from years of training from the very man now fighting him, eventually, he succeeded. 

Silver is young, only seventeen. What chance did he face, going up against his father in a fight like this, when the Lilia he sees is in the height of his prime? When he is holding absolutely nothing back?

He feels the sharp tip of his father’s weapon press closer against the thin skin of his neck, but the only thing that crosses his pain-muddled mind is that the blade in his father’s hands is the very same one he would give to Silver whenever he sent his son off to chop some firewood. Silver thinks that he’s speaking too, can see his mouth move, having pushed his mask aside at some point, but the only thing that he hears is a muddled warble of nothing that sounds real.

His head is spinning. Every limb in his body is aching.

Silver can feel the sticky slickness of his own blood matting the grass beneath him.

What will happen to him, now that he has failed? He will not die permanently; he knows that much. But the alternatives that swim through his muddled brain do not bring him comfort in any form. Perhaps Silver will simply wake up back within the confines of his own dream — but that, in itself, would be a problem, because Silver knows that Malleus is after them, ready to lull him into an impenetrable slumber with the flick of a wrist.

And if Silver loses himself to the throes of this neverending dream… then what? What will become of Sebek and Grim and Yuu? He can see them out of the corner of their eyes; no matter how hard Sebek yells, he is not getting through the other soldiers, least of all his grandfather, as much in his prime as Silver’s father. They have been apprehended, outnumbered and outpowered, and Silver gets the sinking feeling that very soon, they will meet the same fate that he is steadily barreling towards.

He is the hero of this twisted story they have found themselves in, no matter how odd it feels to think of himself this way. His unique magic, as useless as he has believed it to be, has its own purposes now. It is the only thing that may stand between Malleus, overblotted as he is, unable to cope with the weight of abandonment, and his desires of a thousand years of blissful dreams.

So if Silver dies, to the blade of his own father, who stares down at him like a stranger, with not a single trace of recognition in those red eyes—

Then what?

#twst #twisted wonderland #oh boy gotta tag this one for spoilers #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst ch7 #<-- last one there is what i use for my friend #twst silver #my writing tag #context is basically just 'what if lilia just fought them actually' #because he doesn't know who they are!!! #tumblr drabbles tag #(bc i intend to post more shorter stuff in the future. am stockpiling for my eventual hiatus come august) #this one goes out 2 lettie ur a real one for letting me whack you with this fic #personal writing

[volivolition]

fic snippet from a wip i have called "Let's Make It (a) Home"

based on my headcanon that Perception can pull whatever Harry's looking at into the mindspace all the skills live in! this takes place in Martinaise, told from the lens of all the skills working together to gather and add things to the newly emptied brainspace they live in, as well as relearning how to get along with each other immediately after the whole amnesia thing. i just want them to make a home together as a family of 24...

#chemi chats #i need a writing tag at this point #inland drabbles #<- mightve been better for an ency tag but i might save that as a reference tag lmao #anyway i. love writing. i love these silly guys working together to fake a thought cabinet description. theyre so goofy. i adore them #all of my fic wips. i have so many and i dont know if i'll ever finish any of them and that makes me sad. alas. what can you do. #task: let's make it a home

[kanerallels]

🎄 Can you do "Winter Song" from the Hadestown Christmas Album for Obitine? ❤️💚❤️

Congratulations you introduced me to one of this year's favorite songs! To me this is in a happiness au where Obitine are secretly in a relationship

Christmas ficlet ask game!!

Snow was rare on Mandalore— especially now, after so much of the planet was destroyed. The atmosphere wasn’t supposed to be able to give them snow. And yet, Satine was staring out of her window at massive white flakes, coming down outside of the dome.

As a child, she’d loved the snow. She still did. But now, something felt like it was missing.

Something. As if I don’t know what it is.

It had been months since she’d last seen Obi-Wan. And while they commed each other often, and did their best to stay connected… it was hard. To be so far from him. Time seemed to stretch on far longer without him than it did when he was here on Mandalore with her.

Only a few more days, she told herself. Then he’ll be home, and everything will feel a little lighter. Until then, she’d have to make do with nightly calls.

Speaking of which— her holocom beeped. Snatching it up, Satine keyed it on, and the beautifully familiar figure flashed to life. His smile was a beacon of light in the dark room as Obi-Wan said, “Hello, my dear.”

“Hello, Obi-Wan,” Satine said, the ache in her chest easing just at the sight of him.

#thanks for the ask!! #obitine #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #tcw #yeah i know it might not be super realistic for them to be in a relationship when he's in the order #but let me have this. as a treat #christmas ficlets #christmas #writing stories is a kind of magic too #christmas drabbles

[embersofhope-if]

i would suggest a drabble where MC and Ash are hanging out for the last time before the games for the pride drabble (with it being WLW, MLM or just in general queer) but i feel like u got enough drabbles on your plate so just ignore this idea

uhm lets pretend its still june. this is both f!ash and m!ash but the only thing that's different is when Mc fixes Ash's hair.

there aren't really any trigger warnings. Mc does mention death a couple of times but that's really it. anyways! enjoy<3

wordcount: 3.4k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ F!Ash Versionˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It's hot, hotter than a normal July night. Just lying in my bed with a thin sheet is making me sweat so much I think I might drown in it. I know getting up to open my window might help to cool my room down but the very idea of moving conjures up an image of me bursting into flames as soon as I stand. I resign myself to sweat to death in my bed, or at least suffer until Ash decides to actually show up.   

This is her stupid tradition, and she doesn’t even show up on time. I should just tell her to go home when she shows up, it's what she deserves for forcing me to wait in my oven of a bedroom.  

But I wouldn’t do that. As much as I’m suffering in my room, she’s the one who has to sneak across the entire city. It would just be cruel to force her to go back without indulging her just a little bit.  

I doubt she’d even be upset if I did tell her to leave though, just allows her to go to the places she wants to go instead of worrying about me tripping on a rooftop and falling to my death.  

Just as I begin to contemplate moving downstairs, I hear a shuffle at my window and a slight knock. I quickly stand to go and open it, desperate to finally get out of this room.   

As soon as she catches sight of me Ash flashes a smile that she quickly drops trying to catch her breath. With how flushed her cheeks are and the fact that I can hear how hard her breathing is through the window she must’ve sprinted halfway across the city.  

“Can you please let me in? I didn’t come this far just to be shot out of your window by a peacekeeper” she manages to say; sounding only slightly like she’s about to pass out.  

“I don’t know. Maybe I enjoy watching you struggle to open an unlocked window.” I respond, already sliding the window open. Before I fully step away Ash falls into the room.   

I reach out to steady her, trying to make sure she doesn’t fall and wake up my entire family. Mother may like Ash, but I know for a fact that if she finds her breaking into my bedroom Ash would never be allowed back into the house again.  

“Are you alright?” I ask, worrying that she may have hurt herself trying to get here before it got too late in the night. The fact that she even has enough energy to get here after working all day in the factory will never not amaze me.   

“I'm fine. Don’t worry,” she responds, finally able to take a breath without wheezing. I realize that I’m still holding onto her arms, and she has yet to pull away from me. My cheeks flush at the realization at the lack of distance between us but I can’t bring myself to pull away either.   

With how close I am I'm able to see every freckle that’s scattered across her face, able to count every one of her ridiculously long eyelashes that Ash says are more of a curse than a blessing with how often they fall into her eyes. Her cheeks are rosy, but whether that’s from her being overheated or she's blushing as much as I am I’m not entirely sure. I look down at her lips and feel like I’m caught in a trance.   

Kiss her.   

Every other thought disappears from my mind focusing only on Ash's lips and how badly I want to kiss her. I bring my hand up, tracing the edge of her lips. They’re slightly chapped and I can tell she’s been picking at them recently. Something I know she only does whenever she’s worried.  

Just kiss her. It’ll make her feel better. Make her forget whatever she’s worried about.  

Before I get the chance to lean in Ash wraps her hand around mine and steps back. I can feel a bubble of disappointment rising in my chest and I do everything I can to not let it show on my face.  

“C’mon we can’t just stay in here the whole night,” she says, and I fight the urge to groan. Climbing buildings and sneaking around the city in this heat is the last thing I want to do.   

As she moves to the window I hesitate, contemplating just asking her to stay in for the night, but before I’m able to ask she’s already slipping back out into the night. Now I don’t have any type of fight in this, do I?  

I lean out of the window and look around making sure no peacekeepers are passing by. The streetlights are so dim I doubt that they would even be able to see me. Still, I try to move as fast as I can.  

At first, the heat is almost unbearable, but then I feel a slight breeze that causes me to shiver when it hits my sweat-soaked shirt. The higher I climb the more the wind picks up, causing the fire escape to creak and shake.  

Despite being in the best part of District 8 the fire escape is covered in so much rust I think it might be more of a safety hazard than anything. It creaks so loudly when I climb it, I think it might break off. Every time I feel the vibrations of Ash walking above me, I think the thing is actually coming down and dragging the two of us with it.  

Falling to my death on the very thing that’s supposed to help me survive would honestly be a funny way to go. At least there’s a sense of irony in it. I can think of a million worse ways to die. Including the very thing I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about all day.   

The Hunger Games.  

I know the chances of me being reaped are practically none, but the thought still haunts me. My name is still in that bowl, surrounded by thousands of other names, yes, but it's still in there all the same. I’m the lucky one compared to everyone else. How many times has the mayor's child been reaped to fight in the games? I can't think of a single time, not even in Districts like 1 and 2. Despite people being encouraged to volunteer there the mayor's children are never among them. Maybe they know something the rest don’t or maybe they just don’t feel the need to die for their District when there are already so many people clamoring to do it first.  

I’m so caught up in my head thinking about the Games I barely even noticed how much I’ve climbed. I look up and see Ash scaling the small ladder that leads to the roof. The fact that she hasn’t said a word since we’ve been out here worries me.   

Normally she’d at least whisper something to me but tonight she’s been completely silent. Maybe she’s thinking about the games too. I know she had to sign up for Tessera this year, even with the food I was able to give her it just wasn’t enough.   

Trying to convince her that I can just steal more food from my home was useless. I know it's not her pride stopping her from taking the food. Ash has never been that type of person. Confident? Yes, but never prideful. The fact that she refuses to let me help her is driving me insane. Maybe it's not just the Games that’s worrying her but something else. I try to come up with any other idea, but it feels impossible that it could be anything but that. 

As I reach the top and climb onto the roof, I see Ash just a few steps away. She’s looking off to the west, and I can tell she's mapping out which way we’re going to go. 

“Alright let's get moving before it gets too late”, I hear Ash say as she moves to jump to the next rooftop. I don’t even get the chance to ask which way we’re going. I’ve got to follow her and hope she remembers not to pick rooftops that I will die trying to jump to.  

I take a deep breath and jump to the first roof, running to catch up to Ash. She stops on the edge and turns to look at me, making sure that I’m right beside her before she gets too far ahead.   

“We’re going the same way we did last year, okay?” she says to me, the moon lighting up her eyes. There’s amusement in her voice and I can already tell what she’s about to ask.   

“You want to race don’t you,” I say before she gets the chance to say it first. She always beats me. Sometimes it seems like beating me in an incredibly illegal race is her proudest achievement. For how observant she is I don’t know how she hasn’t noticed that I’m letting her win. Ash may be better at ridiculously dangerous climbs but I’m still faster than her. She and Calliope like to joke that my biggest skill is that I can run away. I seriously hope I’ll never have to put that skill to the test. Racing Ash is about as much practice as I get with it.  

Ash lets out a laugh and for a moment I can see my Ash again, not the worrywart that’s hardly said a word to me the whole way up here.   

“Oh of course I do. At this point, it might as well be a part of the tradition.”  

I take a moment pretending to think about if I’m going to agree. We both know I’m going to say yes but this is as much a part of the tradition as the race itself. I pause and make a show of deciding on my answer.  

“Alright fine but if I win, I get a prize,” I say already getting ready to take off. There was one year when Ash took off before I could even finish my sentence. I may let her win but I’m going to make her work for it.   

“If I win, again, I also get a prize” she responds, I nod in agreement and we both get ready to run.   

“One, two, three”   

And we’re both off with me taking the lead. The first three rooftops are easy, it’s the fourth one that’s a bit of a struggle. With the first three, all you’ve got to do is jump down and run straight until you get to the next one, but the fourth roof has a small fence you have to jump over; to get high enough to do it you have to climb on top of an ac unit and take a not so small leap. Miss the landing and you’re falling to your death. Making the landing but still hitting the fence honestly is only slightly better. Not that I would prefer either, but impaling myself on a fence sounds better than falling off a building. Making the jump and feeling only slightly like you’ve injured yourself is genuinely the best case scenario; for me at least. 

I turn to see how close Ash is; she’s halfway across the second rooftop and if I want to keep my lead, I have to make the jump quickly. I climb the ac unit as quickly as I can and get ready to jump. I can’t afford to hesitate on this. I hesitate I die. This whole race is for fun but that doesn’t distract me from how dangerous this really is. I run across what little room I have on the unit and jump.   

Time freezes and I try not to look down. Try not to focus on the feeling of falling. Try not to think about how I could’ve completely screwed up this jump and I won’t even realize till it's too late. Suddenly I feel my feet hit the ground of the fourth roof. A jolt of pain is sent up my leg from the force of my landing, but other than that, I’m completely fine. I turn back just in time to see Ash take the jump as well and land significantly more smoothly than I did.   

She stops for a moment and we both take the second to look the other over and make sure we’re alright. Ash’s hair is in her face, but I can see that she’s still smiling; fighting back the urge to laugh. I so badly want to reach out and fix her hair. Just stop the race and enjoy her for a second but I know she wouldn’t let me. Not if it means she loses. Almost in unison, we take off again. The most dangerous part is over now; all we have to do is make sure not to be seen.  

We keep running for a good twenty minutes until finally I can see our goal. An abandoned building with an old water tower on the top. I’ve tried to figure out what the building was used for. There aren’t very many places in District 8 that aren’t used for something, so finding a completely abandoned one is more unsettling than anything. I don’t even remember how we found it. All I know is that one day I stopped feeling unsettled when I was there. One day I felt more comfortable there than anywhere else in District 8. One day it stopped being some old building and became ours.   

Our sanctuary away from the rest of the world. A place that only me and Ash know about.  

Normally it's about here that I start to slow down and let Ash overtake me in the race, but there’s a part of me that wants to win this time. I could use my prize to make Ash tell me what’s been bothering her so much, but that seems too unfair. If she wants to tell me what’s wrong, I couldn’t force her to. I wouldn’t want to force her to do anything at all. So, I start to slow down making it seem like I’m trying my best to catch my breath.   

Ash overtakes me just as we reach the last ladder, and she begins to climb.  I can already hear her shouts of excitement over winning, again. How she manages to still be so excited about winning the same thing every year is beyond me. Maybe next year I shouldn’t let her win. Bring down that ego of hers that only gets bigger with every race.   

But then I see the look of pure glee on Ash’s face as I climb onto the roof, and I know for a fact I’d never do anything to ruin it. Knowing that she’s happy in this moment is worth a slightly bruised ego.  

“Surprise, I win again,” Ash says brightly. She’s still out of breath from the run and is trying very hard to hide it. Her hair has almost completely fallen out of its braid, and it’s plastered to her face with sweat.   

“Oh, how shocking. I really didn’t see that one coming” I reply, rolling my eyes and reaching out to fix her hair; undoing what’s left of her braid and running my fingers through it trying to get rid of the tangles. “Now, what’s the prize this time.”  

I don’t even realize how close I’ve gotten to her until I notice all I can smell is her. The scent of cinnamon and leather is so intoxicating I could almost get drunk on it. As if I didn’t feel like her presence alone was enough to get drunk. All I can feel is the softness of her hair and her breath on my skin and it makes me feel like I’m spinning.  

I finally finish fixing her hair, but I can’t bring myself to pull away. I honestly think I might fall over if I try, and with the way Ash is gripping my arms, I think she might be having the same problem.  

At that moment, the world seems to fade and it’s just the two of us on that rooftop, bathed in the moonlight. We’re so close I can see her pulse racing at her neck, and I can feel the electricity in the air. Ash’s eyes lock with mine, and I see a mix of emotions swirling within them: excitement, anticipation, and something else. Something that she’s doing everything in her power to hide from me.   

Worry.   

She’s still worrying about the same thing that’s been bothering her all night. It must be the Games; there’s no other possibility; nothing else would make sense.  

I should pull away right now and ask her what’s wrong, but I keep looking at her and the thought of breaking this moment physically pains me. There is only one thing I can think of at this moment.   

Kiss her.  

I can’t hold back any longer. My heart is screaming for her, and I lean in, closing the distance between us. Our lips meet, and it’s like fireworks exploding in my chest. Time seems to stand still as we kiss. It’s soft, tender, and filled with all the thoughts and emotions that were too afraid to say out loud. I try to kiss away her worry and fear of what’s going to happen tomorrow. Replace her fear with the knowledge that no matter what happens I’ll be here for her, and I know that she’ll be here for me.  

Eventually, we pull away, both with wide smiles on our faces. Our foreheads rest against each other, and our breathing begins to steady. For a long quiet moment, we just stare at each other, comforted by the other's presence.  

“I know what I want my prize to be,” Ash whispers as she wraps her arms around me and leads us both in a slow sway to music that only she can hear.  

That’s right she still hasn’t claimed her prize yet. Last year she asked for some pastries and the year before that she had asked for my old pair of boots. Neither of which surprised me if I'm honest, normally it's easy to guess what she wants, but this year something feels off.   

“Alright, your wish is my command,” I say with a slight chuckle, and I try to move us into a proper waltz, but Ash doesn’t let me. Instead, she wraps herself around me even tighter than before and we stop moving altogether. Okay, something is seriously wrong; I’d be blind to not see it.   

Before I can ask her what the problem is, she pulls back and cups my face in both hands. Confused, I look into her eyes only to find her staring at me with such an intense look it startles me.   

“I want you to promise me that no matter what happens tomorrow you will keep helping my family,” she says with such finality that I struggle to respond.   

Why would tomorrow be any different than any other reaping day? She can’t possibly think that she’s going to be the one reaped. It’s almost always somebody neither of us has heard of. It’s sad to see them go but at the end of the day, they’re nobody.   

Ash is somebody.  

If she gets reaped there would be an uproar. Right? But what could anybody do if she was? What could I do if she was? Nothing. I could do absolutely nothing. Just like she would be able to do nothing if I’m the one who’s reaped.  

This must be what she’s been worried about all day. Why Ash is convinced that she’s going to be the one going into the Games I’m not sure, but if it’ll calm her down then I’ll promise her what she wants.   

“Okay, I’ll make sure they’re alright”, I say nodding my head and reaching out to cover her hands that still hold my face. I expect her to pull away, but she doesn’t.  

“I need you to say you promise”, Ash pleads, and I can feel my heart shatter when I notice that she’s starting to cry. Without thinking I pull her into me wrapping myself around her.   

“I promise you, Ash. As long as I live nothing will ever happen to them.”   

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ M!Ash Versionˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It's hot, hotter than a normal July night. Just lying in my bed with a thin sheet is making me sweat so much I think I might drown in it. I know getting up to open my window might help to cool my room down but the very idea of moving conjures up an image of me bursting into flames as soon as I stand. I resign myself to sweat to death in my bed, or at least suffer until Ash decides to actually show up.   

This is his stupid tradition, and he doesn’t even show up on time. I should just tell him to go home when He shows up, it's what he deserves for forcing me to wait in my oven of a bedroom.  

But I wouldn’t do that. As much as I’m suffering in my room, He’s the one who has to sneak across the entire city. It would just be cruel to force him to go back without indulging him just a little bit.  

I doubt he’d even be upset if I did tell him to leave though, just allows him to go to the places he wants to go instead of worrying about me tripping on a rooftop and falling to my death.  

Just as I begin to contemplate moving downstairs, I hear a shuffle at my window and a slight knock. I quickly stand to go and open it, desperate to finally get out of this room.   

As soon as he catches sight of me Ash flashes a smile that he quickly drops trying to catch his breath. With how flushed his cheeks are and the fact that I can hear how hard his breathing is through the window he must’ve sprinted halfway across the city.  

“Can you please let me in? I didn’t come this far just to be shot out of your window by a peacekeeper” He manages to say; sounding only slightly like he’s about to pass out.  

“I don’t know. Maybe I enjoy watching you struggle to open an unlocked window.” I respond, already sliding the window open. Before I fully step away Ash falls into the room.   

I reach out to steady him, trying to make sure he doesn’t fall and wake up my entire family. Mother may like Ash, but I know for a fact that if he finds him breaking into my bedroom Ash will never be allowed back into the house again.  

“Are you alright?” I ask, worrying that he may have hurt himself trying to get here before it got too late in the night. The fact that he even has enough energy to get here after working all day in the factory will never not amaze me.   

“I'm fine. Don’t worry,” He responds, finally able to take a breath without wheezing. I realize that I’m still holding onto his arms, and he has yet to pull away from me. My cheeks flush at the realization of the lack of distance between us but I can’t bring myself to pull away either.   

With how close I am I'm able to see every freckle that’s scattered across his face, able to count every one of his ridiculously long eyelashes that Ash says are more of a curse than a blessing with how often they fall into his eyes. His cheeks are rosy, but whether that’s from him being overheated or he's blushing as much as I am I’m not entirely sure. I look down at his lips and feel like I’m caught in a trance.   

Kiss him.   

Every other thought disappears from my mind focusing only on Ash's lips and how badly I want to kiss him. I bring my hand up, tracing the edge of his lips. They’re slightly chapped and I can tell he’s been picking at them recently. Something I know he only does whenever he’s worried.  

Just kiss him. It’ll make him feel better. Make him forget whatever He’s worried about.  

Before I get the chance to lean in Ash wraps his hand around mine and steps back. I can feel a bubble of disappointment rising in my chest and I do everything I can to not let it show on my face.  

“C’mon we can’t just stay in here the whole night,” he says, and I fight the urge to groan. Climbing buildings and sneaking around the city in this heat is the last thing I want to do.   

As he moves to the window I hesitate, contemplating just asking him to stay in for the night, but before I’m able to ask he’s already slipping back out into the night. Now I don’t have any type of fight in this, do I?  

I lean out of the window and look around making sure no peacekeepers are passing by. The streetlights are so dim I doubt that they would even be able to see me. Still, I try to move as fast as I can.  

At first, the heat is almost unbearable, but then I feel a slight breeze that causes me to shiver when it hits my sweat-soaked shirt. The higher I climb the more the wind picks up, causing the fire escape to creak and shake.  

Despite being in the best part of District 8 the fire escape is covered in so much rust I think it might be more of a safety hazard than anything. It creaks so loudly when I climb it, I think it might break off. Every time I feel the vibrations of Ash walking above me, I think the thing is actually coming down and dragging the two of us with it.  

Falling to my death on the very thing that’s supposed to help me survive would honestly be a funny way to go. At least there’s a sense of irony in it. I can think of a million worse ways to die. Including the very thing I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about all day.   

The Hunger Games.  

I know the chances of me being reaped are practically none, but the thought still haunts me. My name is still in that bowl, surrounded by thousands of other names, yes, but it's still in there all the same. I’m the lucky one compared to everyone else. How many times has the mayor's child been reaped to fight in the games? I can't think of a single time, not even in Districts like 1 and 2. Despite people being encouraged to volunteer there the mayor's children are never among them. Maybe they know something the rest don’t or maybe they just don’t feel the need to die for their District when there are already so many people clamoring to do it first.  

I’m so caught up in my head thinking about the Games I barely even noticed how much I’ve climbed. I look up and see Ash scaling the small ladder that leads to the roof. The fact that he hasn’t said a word since we’ve been out here worries me.   

Normally he’d at least whisper something to me but tonight he’s been completely silent. Maybe he’s thinking about the games too. I know he had to sign up for Tessera this year, even with the food I was able to give him it just wasn’t enough.   

Trying to convince him that I can just steal more food from my home was useless. I know it's not his pride stopping him from taking the food. Ash has never been that type of person. Confident? Yes, but never prideful. The fact that he refuses to let me help him is driving me insane. Maybe it's not just the Games that’s worrying him but something else. I try to come up with any other idea, but it feels impossible that it could be anything but that. 

As I reach the top and climb onto the roof, I see Ash just a few steps away. He’s looking off to the west, and I can tell he's mapping out which way we’re going to go. 

“Alright let's get moving before it gets too late”, I hear Ash say as he moves to jump to the next rooftop. I don’t even get the chance to ask which way we’re going. I’ve got to follow him and hope he remembers not to pick rooftops that I will die trying to jump to.  

I take a deep breath and jump to the first roof, running to catch up to Ash. He stops on the edge and turns to look at me, making sure that I’m right beside him before he gets too far ahead.   

“We’re going the same way we did last year, okay?” He says to me, the moon lights up his eyes. There’s amusement in his voice and I can already tell what he’s about to ask.   

“You want to race don’t you,” I say before he gets the chance to say it first. He always beats me. Sometimes it seems like beating me in an incredibly illegal race is his proudest achievement. For how observant he is I don’t know how he hasn’t noticed that I’m letting him win. Ash may be better at ridiculously dangerous climbs but I’m still faster than him. He and Calliope like to joke that my biggest skill is that I can run away. I seriously hope I’ll never have to put that skill to the test. Racing Ash is about as much practice as I get with it.  

Ash lets out a laugh and for a moment I can see my Ash again, not the worrywart that’s hardly said a word to me the whole way up here.   

“Oh of course I do. At this point, it might as well be a part of the tradition.”  

I take a moment pretending to think about if I’m going to agree. We both know I’m going to say yes but this is as much a part of the tradition as the race itself. I pause and make a show of deciding on my answer.  

“Alright fine but if I win, I get a prize,” I say already getting ready to take off. There was one year when Ash took off before I could even finish my sentence. I may let him win but I’m going to make him work for it.   

“If I win, again, I also get a prize” He responds, I nod in agreement and we both get ready to run.   

“One, two, three”   

And we’re both off with me taking the lead. The first three rooftops are easy, it’s the fourth one that’s a bit of a struggle. With the first three, all you’ve got to do is jump down and run straight until you get to the next one, but the fourth roof has a small fence you have to jump over; to get high enough to do it you have to climb on top of an ac unit and take a not so small leap. Miss the landing and you’re falling to your death. Making the landing but still hitting the fence honestly is only slightly better. Not that I would prefer either, but impaling myself on a fence sounds better than falling off a building. Making the jump and feeling only slightly like you’ve injured yourself is genuinely the best-case scenario; for me at least. 

I turn to see how close Ash is; He’s halfway across the second rooftop and if I want to keep my lead, I have to make the jump quickly. I climb the ac unit as quickly as I can and get ready to jump. I can’t afford to hesitate on this. I hesitate I die. This whole race is for fun but that doesn’t distract me from how dangerous this really is. I run across what little room I have on the unit and jump.   

Time freezes and I try not to look down. Try not to focus on the feeling of falling. Try not to think about how I could’ve completely screwed up this jump and I won’t even realize till it's too late. Suddenly I feel my feet hit the ground of the fourth roof. A jolt of pain is sent up my leg from the force of my landing, but other than that, I’m completely fine. I turn back just in time to see Ash take the jump as well and land significantly more smoothly than I did.   

He stops for a moment and we both take the second to look the other over and make sure we’re alright. Ash’s hair is in his face, but I can see that He’s still smiling; fighting back the urge to laugh. I so badly want to reach out and fix his hair. Just stop the race and enjoy him for a second but I know he wouldn’t let me. Not if it means he loses. Almost in unison, we take off again. The most dangerous part is over now; all we have to do is make sure not to be seen.  

We keep running for a good twenty minutes until finally I can see our goal. An abandoned building with an old water tower on the top. I’ve tried to figure out what the building was used for. There aren’t very many places in District 8 that aren’t used for something, so finding a completely abandoned one is more unsettling than anything. I don’t even remember how we found it. All I know is that one day I stopped feeling unsettled when I was there. One day I felt more comfortable there than anywhere else in District 8. One day it stopped being some old building and became ours.   

Our sanctuary away from the rest of the world. A place that only me and Ash know about.  

Normally it's about here that I start to slow down and let Ash overtake me in the race, but there’s a part of me that wants to win this time. I could use my prize to make Ash tell me what’s been bothering her so much, but that seems too unfair. If he wants to tell me what’s wrong, I couldn’t force him to. I wouldn’t want to force him to do anything at all. So, I start to slow down making it seem like I’m trying my best to catch my breath.   

Ash overtakes me just as we reach the last ladder, and he begins to climb.  I can already hear his shouts of excitement over winning, again. How he manages to still be so excited about winning the same thing every year is beyond me. Maybe next year I shouldn’t let him win. Bring down that ego of his that only gets bigger with every race.   

But then I see the look of pure glee on Ash’s face as I climb onto the roof, and I know for a fact I’d never do anything to ruin it. Knowing that He’s happy in this moment is worth a slightly bruised ego.  

“Surprise, I win again,” Ash says brightly. He’s still out of breath from the run and is trying very hard to hide it. His hair has is completely all over the place, and it’s plastered to his face with sweat.   

“Oh, how shocking. I really didn’t see that one coming” I reply, rolling my eyes and reaching out to fix his hair; smoothing down the fly aways and running my fingers through it trying to get rid of the tangles. “Now, what’s the prize this time.”  

I don’t even realize how close I’ve gotten to him until I notice all I can smell is him. The scent of cinnamon and leather is so intoxicating I could almost get drunk on it. As if I didn’t feel like his presence alone was enough to get drunk. All I can feel is the softness of his hair and his breath on my skin and it makes me feel like I’m spinning.  

I finally finish fixing his hair, but I can’t bring myself to pull away. I honestly think I might fall over if I try, and with the way Ash is gripping my arms, I think He might be having the same problem.  

At that moment, the world seems to fade and it’s just the two of us on that rooftop, bathed in the moonlight. We’re so close I can see his pulse racing at his neck, and I can feel the electricity in the air. Ash’s eyes lock with mine, and I see a mix of emotions swirling within them: excitement, anticipation, and something else. Something that he’s doing everything in his power to hide from me.   

Worry.   

He’s still worrying about the same thing that’s been bothering him all night. It must be the Games; there’s no other possibility; nothing else would make sense.  

I should pull away right now and ask him what’s wrong, but I keep looking at him and the thought of breaking this moment physically pains me. There is only one thing I can think of at this moment.   

Kiss him.  

I can’t hold back any longer. My heart is screaming for him, and I lean in, closing the distance between us. Our lips meet, and it’s like fireworks exploding in my chest. Time seems to stand still as we kiss. It’s soft, tender, and filled with all the thoughts and emotions that were too afraid to say out loud. I try to kiss away his worry and fear of what’s going to happen tomorrow. Replace his fear with the knowledge that no matter what happens I’ll be here for him, and I know that he’ll be here for me.  

Eventually, we pull away, both with wide smiles on our faces. Our foreheads rest against each other, and our breathing begins to steady. For a long quiet moment, we just stare at each other, comforted by the other's presence.  

“I know what I want my prize to be,” Ash whispers as he wraps his arms around me and leads us both in a slow sway to music that only He can hear.  

That’s right he still hasn’t claimed his prize yet. Last year he asked for some pastries and the year before that he had asked for my old pair of boots. Neither of which surprised me if I'm honest, normally it's easy to guess what he wants, but this year something feels off.   

“Alright, your wish is my command,” I say with a slight chuckle, and I try to move us into a proper waltz, but Ash doesn’t let me. Instead, he wraps himself around me even tighter than before and we stop moving altogether. Okay, something is seriously wrong; I’d be blind to not see it.   

Before I can ask him what the problem is, he pulls back and cups my face in both hands. Confused, I look into his eyes only to find him staring at me with such an intense look it startles me.   

“I want you to promise me that no matter what happens tomorrow you will keep helping my family,” he says with such finality that I struggle to respond.   

Why would tomorrow be any different than any other reaping day? He can’t possibly think that he’s going to be the one reaped. It’s almost always somebody neither of us has heard of. It’s sad to see them go but at the end of the day, they’re nobody.   

Ash is somebody.  

If he gets reaped there would be an uproar. Right? But what could anybody do if he was? What could I do if he was? Nothing. I could do absolutely nothing. Just like he would be able to do nothing if I’m the one who’s reaped.  

This must be what he’s been worried about all day. Why Ash is convinced that he’s going to be the one going into the Games I’m not sure, but if it’ll calm him down then I’ll promise him what he wants.   

“Okay, I’ll make sure they’re alright”, I say nodding my head and reaching out to cover his hands that still hold my face. I expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t.  

“I need you to say you promise”, Ash pleads, and I can feel my heart shatter when I notice that he’s starting to cry. Without thinking I pull him into me wrapping myself around him.   

“I promise you, Ash. As long as I live nothing will ever happen to them.”   

#thanks anon! #emma writes🪶 #its pride month whenever i say it is. its part of the super powers lesbians have if u didnt know #is this good? no but im tired of staring at it everyday. #ash fairchild. #mc vesper. #mc calling everyone who isnt ash nobodies kinda makes me chuckle im ngl #also if i mess up any pronouns in m!ashs version please let me know its like 5am and i literally can't see any errors anymore #i know theyre there i just cant find them #drabbles.

[jokeringcutio]

By the way, I accept 'imagine if...' prompts for slashers on the topics in the tags

#there'll be some pregnancy/birth/baby fics with our favorite slashers coming up #Drabbles and imagines mostly #expect horror drama and angst #I mean Art the Clown will eat the afterbirth #Stepdad William Afton will deny it is his baby when you are his stepdaughter while being delighted he got you like this #So prepare #And if you don't like these type of drabbles ignore them because there'll be loads more of kinder drabbles and fics online as well soon #All my tales carry warnings #There'll be more unrelated Stepdad William drabbles and fics #New chapters to Explore and more #New Albert and Harrow tale #you may request any bad guy #or any old one tbh #let me know if you want gore dark or romantic etc

[good-beanswrites]

hi! may i request some mikoto + amane (platonic obvs) … anything? they are very dear to me 😭

Yes!!! Thank you so much for the request -- they really are such a good pair ;-; (The thing is, I had so many nice scenes in mind about how they parallel each other, but they wouldn't know or reveal that about each other so I kept restarting...) Anyway, here's something right after Mikoto's first trial/verdict!

Mikoto could pick up on someone’s bad mood from a mile away, though the skill was unnecessary when the other party very clearly and calmly informed him, “I’m in a bad mood.”

After refusing his offer, Amane turned back to a thick textbook she’d been taking notes on. Didn’t kids usually complain that school was already a prison? She must have wanted the full experience. He'd worked nonstop at his studies as well, but this was a new level. Amane often reminded him of his little sister, though she always took the extra step like this. His sister would have jumped at this opportunity to play a few rounds of their favorite card game.

“It’ll be fun!”

He flashed a smile, but it had no effect on her severe expression. “I know you’re just trying to comfort me about our verdicts. I refuse to be pitied.”

“Comfort and pity are two very different things. But anyway, it wasn’t either of those things.” He gave an easy shrug “To be honest, I’m just a little bored. It’s weird not having any work to do during the day.” 

Mikoto couldn’t remember the last time in his life he’d had so many hours to himself. A lot of the others were fun to play games with. A few of the sportier prisoners helped him stay active. He enjoyed smoking breaks with the other men. Still, he was left to his own devices for the majority of his time. It was maddening. He’d recently requested some more art supplies, having used up the last batch, but they had yet to come in. Now with the verdict announcement, he wasn’t sure they’d ever arrive.

“That is your own problem. I already have something to do.” Her eyes lingered on the cards for the briefest of moments before returning to the book. “I told you, I’m not in the mood for it.”

Regardless of her hostility, he took a seat beside her. He leaned his arms out on the table. “We don’t have to play the same game.” The last time they'd played as a big group, several prisoners pulling the tables together to fit everyone. Amane had kept very quiet, eyes darting around at the cards as she tried to keep up with the rules. Not many of the others noticed the frustration clear in her face. Mikoto wasn’t the type to let her win out of pity, though he had begun to mutter the rules and strategies to himself a bit more as the night went on… 

“Is there a game you liked to play at home?”

 “No. There was no time for games in the house.” 

“All work and no play… hah… I know what that’s like.” He slumped his cheek onto his arm, lazily shuffling the cards around. He felt bad for bothering the girl if she truly was upset. He thought it was the bad experience that made her reject him, he hadn’t realized there were also family issues attached. Usually he could read people well; maybe he was losing his touch. He seemed to be losing touch with a lot of things, these days.

He readied a game of solitaire. 

“Mikoto?” Amane kept her face turned away. “There was… one game.”

“Yeah?” Mikoto shuffled the cards back together. He slid them over to her. “You should teach me!” 

She didn’t touch them. “You probably already know it.”

“Nah, I only know a few games. I’m better with tarot cards, though those aren’t really the gaming type. Come on, what is it?”

She told him the name of the game, insisting it wouldn’t be worth playing. She kept her attention on the textbook, but her eyes weren’t reading any of it. 

“Ahh, I’ve heard of that one! We start with four cards, right?” He started dealing them out.

“No, five –” she pointed to the deck, urging him to add two more. 

“Right, right.” He laughed lightly. “And the goal is to get pairs, and put them in a pile, uhh, here.”

Amane shook her head. She shifted her body slightly towards him. “You must be thinking of a different game. There’s actually three piles for pairs. One here, one here, and when it’s your opponent’s turn…” 

Her eyes gleamed as she explained the rules. She pointed to various cards, telling him exact moves and point values. “And to win, you need to –” Her expression shifted. “You… you already knew all this.”

“Of course not!” He put on his most convincing smile. 

She deflated. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“Tch, tell that to the warden.”

His shoulders sagged along with her. If Amane could see right through him, why was the rest of Milgram still coming up with stories about what he did and didn’t do? “Well, I might already know the rules, but it’s been a long time since I’ve played. You can still give me a hand. Plus, if you really are in such a bad mood, it’ll be good to take a break from your studies. You should always take a break when things get too overwhelming, yeah?”

She gave him a withering stare.

“Eh? What’s that face for?”

“Alright, let’s play. You can go first.”

“I mean it, what was that look? Aw, come on…”

#milgram #mikoto kayano #amane momose #see - the thing is they both had crimes about 'protecting themself' but both would deny it was for that reason #they both seem to have some family trauma but would never admit it #theyre both used to putting on their best behavior and being 'good' for others but hardly realize that themselves #they are both in denial all the time !!!!! #so i tried to show them getting along for their own perceived reasons -- mikoto thinks he likes her because she reminds him of his sister #and amane thinks she likes him because hes being kind about their verdicts #and while both are right theyre Also drawn to each other because they are very similar at their core #and both have skills with reading people/picking up on cues making it tough to lie to one another #that forced honesty makes for a solid friendship haha! #i also remember a comment from yamanaka that amane would be the worst at card games because shed have trouble with the rules #she seems old enough to handle complex games but she probably never got to play a lot at home ;---; and mikoto probably learns a lot of #types of games (and tarot) so can connect with even more people #i thought long and hard on whether mikoto would let someone else win but he doesnt seem the type (plus amane would notice) #once again i know amane starts speaking in the plural but this comes a bit before that #yaay thank you so much for the request! this was really fun to do - i hope you enjoy! #ive thought a lot about amane and john but less on her and mikoto lol so this was nice :D #drabbles

[ruinakete]

HC + names

WORD HEADCANONS & DRABBLE ・ accepting! ( word count challenge beneath the readmore; 500! content warnings; mentions / implications of slight engage spoilers; implied murder! )

names, just like personal dates, do not matter in her eyes. not exactly. to her, it is not the name itself, it is how you wear it; the journey it took to earn it.

after all, she had not been crowned the full name, zephia dahut kurosawa, upon birth. her family surname had been lost to the ages, long before they had fallen to her magic. where her mother bore the surname of the flower humans preferred to gift her, zephia bore the surname of a tragic legend, horribly translated within the waves of the tale.

and she had been the one to first utter the syllables of the name, wrenching it from the crinkled papers of an old storybook until it fit perfectly into the mouths of the tribe. years later, within the ruins of a human village, she tore the second surname from the murky waters at the bottom of the mountain and presented it before sombron. and he accepted the dirty, sullied name just as he had accepted her; dirty and sullied and at his command.

however, the names themselves did not matter. no, they were no more a trophy than they were hers.

HUMANS CALLED IT THE FEAST OF THE ANTHURIAMS. a name weighed down by what the mortal mind perceived as the war between divinity and the fallen. a name this mage dragon first scoffed at upon first hearing of it, pointed helix twitching when the abbot fell into a silent stride beside her. there was irony in the event━━━or the holiday many recognized it as━━━so, it tempted the laughter in her throat. “as long as they understand the weight of to-day, then all is well, right?” she had chosen to offer, decades earlier, when the idea first sprung at the feet of the Lord, “followers will be sacrificed or maimed, yes, but the lasting impact could overcome the cost. the name━━━” or, had she managed to utter all of the suggestions before her name slipped through the Lord’s lips, thus reminding her of her worth in each letter? but this mage dragon had foretold the worth of delirious faith correctly: blood and innards were strewn across the dark sand of the Altar, an awful nostalgia to the gore-soaked snow and dirt centuries prior. and, here, beholding the eyes that once witnessed every child's last twitch, her gaze was narrowed on the only figure visible through the skittering cloud of kicked-up dust. before the church's hundreds of eyes, this boy twitched and heaved and stood as if he had been born the other day, but there was a glory to every ragged breath. an untamed hunger the child within her once swallowed. the abbot sighed beside her, but she interrupted the beginnings of any voice with her own, "who is he?" "hm, that is griss. he joined a..." but her ears had already deemed it worthless; it had not been the answer she hoped for. later, she had demanded the same from the boy himself, immediately once the clergy saw to it that the Eyes of God had been drained from the majority of his system. "who are you?" was what she pried for; and a follower, was what he gave willingly, still wide-eyed and trembling. though the tremors could not be fear. no, not if his lips continued to twitch into what she hoped to be an exhausted grin. her head lolled to match his, sangria eyes narrowed to a scornful slant until she deemed his reaction to such judgment enough. fangs bared in her smile, consideration melded into a figurehead's generosity; mage dragon had not hesitated to lean closer, raising a clawed hand to cup his cheek as she crooned, "hm-hm, how wonderful. how promising. again, boy. you are the Lord's follower before you are...?" griss, was the drawled name she heard. therefore, griss was the reward he'd receive. the mage dragon had not released him when she purred, "as i am the Lord's follower before i am zephia." a pause, as her gaze lowered to the blade at her hip, "come, griss. you will draw blood with me. then, a prayer before we leave the monastery, will suffice, yes?"

#saizov #engage spoilers #☽ ━━━━━━ ❝ she; the daughter known by her teeth ・ 【 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 】 . #☽ ━━━━━━ ❝ to appease the handmade goddess ・ 【 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 】 . #shout out to ree who let me chew on their hc @ the feast of the anthuriams!!! #obsessed w young griss and zephia... tbh the entire idea behind this holiday eats down so hard #ty ty for the ask!! possessed by demons.. the other asks have been queued :salute: #so v cheesed at this word.. esp since connecting her faceless parents to only the names she knows them as is v important to her memory #her entire thing is having to earn your place in a community so the same is most likely toward names and titles #and yeah all drabbles will try to be 500 since i want to try a silly little thing