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junichan · 10 months

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Dirty Monkey (Platonic SWK x Reader)

Summery: A regrettable insult leads Reader to give the Monkey King a bath and a little TLC.

The Wukong in this story is based on Monkey King Reborn, and heavily inspired by @celestialkiri’s and @sixteenthchapel’s monkey boys. (I love their art and AUs so much, omg!) I also think calling the self-insert character ‘Reader’ is terribly clever, so I used that here.

Warnings / Triggers: None, a brief mention of naked monkey butt.

Reader overhears Wukong and Bajie bickering and throwing insults at each other as per usual. It’s a normal occurrence early in the journey. Most of the time these barbs roll off their backs and the only ones really bothered by their antagonism is Tang Sanzang, who just wants his disciples to get along. But this time Bajie goes a little too far.

“Dirty monkey,” Bajie sneers.

There’s an instant of silence, as if everyone knows he’s crossed a line, even Bajie. He starts to open his mouth to backtrack, even as Wukong’s expression goes frighteningly cold. The monkey’s muscles tense, his lips pulling back from his teeth. He’s ready to maul his fellow disciple.

“THAT’S ENOUGH.” Reader’s voice is rarely so loud. It crashes over them, crushing the tension with the force of a shockwave. There’s even a growl to her voice. The surprise is enough to break Wukong’s momentum; he’s never heard that tone of voice from Reader before.

Wukong will never admit it out loud but he loves these little hints of the steel in Reader’s spine.

“Both of you need to cool it,” Reader continues, fixing Bajie with a glare that makes him shuffle self-consciously before turning it on Wukong. The monkey huffs, refusing to feel reproached. But at least he decides to walk away, rather than continuing to fight or argue.

A few days later the travelers stop for a rest. Wukong has been even more abrasive and distant to the others than usual. While the rest of the little group is making camp, Reader finds the monkey some distance away, glaring at the horizon with his back hunched and the fur on the back of his neck bristled. Wuknong refuses to admit it but clearly Bajie’s crack about his hygiene hurt his pride.

That’s when Reader grabs his arm and pulls him off. Wukong of course tries to shrug her off, snapping at her to leave him alone. (He’s a king after all, he’s not about to be dragged around by his elbow like a child.) But Reader insists that he must come with her somewhere and her persistence gets him curious enough to relent.

She takes him to a secluded natural pool, and that’s when Wukong notices the little wooden bucket Reader brought along. She intends to make him bathe. He clues in really quick and can’t help feeling a little dejected.

“So you think I’m dirty too.”

He’s about to call her an idiot and go back to brooding on his own somewhere when she stops him.

“No. You just stink. You’re covered in dried blood and who knows what else from the last ten demons you fought.”

She’s got a point, as much as he hates to admit it. He tries grabbing the bucket from her, insisting that he wash without her supervision, but she keeps it out of his reach. Once again curiosity - and the not-so-secret fact that Wukong’s going a little soft on Reader - gets the better of him. Even so he grumbles as he allows himself to be ushered into the cool, clear water.

Wukong thinks shucking his clothes will scare the human woman off, and it does embarrass her enough to politely look the other way, but she doesn’t leave. (Don’t worry, Reader doesn’t see anything besides his bare backside for a few seconds. This is a SFW story. Also, LOL, monkey butt.)

To his surprise, Reader wades in after him. He tries not to look too interested in what she’s doing. He even tries objecting again when she takes some soap out of the bucket. But as soon as her gentle hands start working the sweet-smelling soap into his fur the demon monkey practically melts.

Neither of them say anything as Reader slowly and carefully washes Wukong’s back. It reminds him very much of when he was home on Flower Fruit Mountain. All the monkeys in the troop would groom each other, for both hygiene and socialization, and as the highest-ranking monkey of them all he was always given the most attention. There was a reason he was called ‘Handsome Monkey King’ after all. Back home he had been almost meticulous about taking care of his appearance, but since being on the road it had seemed less important.

So Wukong kneels in the water, while Reader stands behind him. The feeling of the human’s fingers gently working the blood and dust off his fur feels really, really good. The cool water is refreshing, and the soap smells a little like jasmine and sandlewood. Having someone groom him makes him feel like a real king again. And more than that it makes him feel a little homesick.

After a while, he can’t help but wonder out loud, “Why are you doing this?”

Reader pauses for a moment. She’s behind him so Wukong can’t see her smile, but he can hear it in her voice as she explains, “A dirty monkey is a monkey that’s unwanted and unloved. You are neither of those things, and I don’t want you to forget that.” Her arms encircle him from behind, and he feels her cheek press against the top of his head while she hugs him.

Wukong can’t remember the last time he was told he was loved and wanted so directly. Or the last time someone dared to embrace him! Certainly, it was long before he was imprisoned under a mountain for 500 years. For a moment he’s stunned into uncharacteristic speechlessness. Then he scoffs to cover the awkward moment of sentimentality. “Tch. Don’t be stupid. I know what I am.” The usual edge to Wukong’s voice isn’t as sharp, and the hand that he places over Reader’s gives the smallest, softest squeeze. Quietly he admits, “…It’s nice to be reminded though.”

The Monkey King won’t say the words, but Reader knows that he means ‘thank you’. And she’s glad to have lifted Wukong’s spirit a little.

Before the moment can get any more awkward, Reader steps back and grabs the bucket to rinse Wukong off - by dumping the bucket of water over his head!

“Hey!!” The demon sputters, shaking water from his eyes as he turns to glare at Reader. But she’s laughing so much it’s hard to stay angry and he starts chuckling too. He gets her back as they’re moving toward the shore by shaking the water off his fur and soaking her in the process.

They stay by the pool for the rest of the afternoon. While they dry off Reader washes Wukong’s clothes too. (And discovers the Monkey King never bothered to learn how to wash them himself. ‘That was what servants are for.’ No wonder they were so gross!) By the time they rejoin the others, Sun Wukong looks like a brand new demon.

Bajie immediately protests that it isn’t fair that Brother Monkey got a glow up, which strokes Wukong’s ego even more. The whole ‘dirty monkey’ slight is well behind him now.

After that, the Monkey King became a lot more mindful about the state of his fur and clothes while on the road. Every so often Wukong would plop himself down in front of Reader with his back to her. He wouldn’t say anything, but they both knew it was a silent request / demand for some grooming. Sometimes Reader found it a little annoying, especially if she was in the middle of something, but she always indulged him, combing her fingers through his fur until it was silky soft.

He never forgot what Reader said. He would make sure that no one ever had the chance to imply he was dirty. Sun Wukong was loved and wanted, and everyone should know it just by looking at him.

#sun wukong x reader #jttw sun wukong #journey to the west #monkey king #monkey king reborn #sfw drabble #jttw #sun wukong

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hollowtakami · 1 month

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MY LITTLE DOVE

CONTENT: caregiver!keigo + regressed!gn!reader, pet names (dove, little feather, baby bird), just a fluffy drabble to keep my mind out of a bad place.

AUTHOR NOTE: please keep interactions/tags for this post strictly SFW; ddlg/ageplay/pro+comship are not welcome.

You could feel yourself slipping.

Huddled under a sea of blankets with an army of stuffies, chewing on the end of your sleeve, you fold into yourself.

The scent of your favourite stuffie under your nose would usually comfort you, but not right now. Above the surface of those blankets was a world. That alone was far too big and scary for you right now.

Your little heart pounded as you count the minutes on your fingers to ease your worries, startling at the faint sound of a door clicking open.

A small sigh and the shuffling of boots could be heard through the ajar door your bedroom, shoes kicked to the side of the rack and a jacket strung up on a hook as you heard a melodic voice call out to you.

“Baby bird, I’m back!” Keigo chirped, the baritone of his voice flooding your senses with warmth.

You do your best to ease the blankets off yourself and with clumsy movements, clutch your stuffie to your chest with your head down as you waddled over to the avian.

Keigo saw you emerge from your room like a lost spirit, floating over to him slowly. His face fell when he couldn’t see yours, his eyes soon clocked onto the stuffie and he soon softened.

“Hey there, dove,” his voice smoother than any sippie cup of warm milk before bed, lowered as to not startle you again. He extended a hand to you, gentle and inviting, whispering, “you feelin’ small?”

With a small nod you raise your head to look up, expecting to see even a small glimpse of annoyance in the suns of Keigo’s eyes; nothing.

He beamed when he saw your face, riddled with worry but willing to trust him. And trust him, you did.

You slowly shuffled into Keigo’s chest, babbling to yourself happily when you felt the tickle of his feathers cocoon around you. He patted your hair, kissing the crown of your head.

“C’mon, little feather,” Keigo smiled, “let’s get you cosy, yeah?”

When you were regressed, your age sometimes ranged. Keigo was no stranger to working with children due to his line of work, and so took to your regression quite well. Hidden behind a mask of tenderness was, at first, the fear of making you feel worse. Though, like a feather in the wind, the two of you found your flow.

“Okay, baby, sit on the bed for me while I find you some jammys, ‘kay?” Keigo softly directed, to which you did with a nod, your stuffie still with you.

Keigo sent a few feather dashing out of the room as he picked through the drawer where you kept your regression gear; pacifiers, sippy cups, your favourite pyjamas.

He turned with them in his hand, smiling to himself when he saw your demeanour light up at the sight. You clapped your hands together happily, letting Keigo get you out of your day clothes and into something comfier.

Keigo eventually got you into bed after calming you down when you got so giddy - he can’t lie to himself though, you were so adorable. He left the room for a moment, crossing his heart and promising you and your plush friend that he would be right back.

Sitting on the bed, tucked into a blanket with your stuffie huddled close to your chest, you popped your thumb into your mouth. You were too baby to think anything wrong of it, babbling to your stuffie about something as you subconsciously suckled and bit at your thumbnail.

Keigo soon came back into the room, a clean paci in his hands, his feathers carrying a tray lined with a sippy cup of warm milk and a plate of apple slices.

The avian clicked his tongue when he saw you mindlessly sucking your thumb, smiling as he helped the paci into your mouth and wiped your thumb.

“Save your teeth for these apple slices, baby,” Keigo smiled, his feathers resting back into his wings as the tray was set down onto the bed slowly, Keigo snuggled up to you, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You giggled as the scruff on his chin tickled your skin, your bubbly laughs making Keigo’s heart melt.

“C’mere, dove, let me help you with your snack, yeah?” Keigo softly suggested.

You nodded, too baby to want to feed yourself.

After a few slices, you finished off the sippy full of milk, eyes droopy. Setting the tray down on the bedside table, Keigo held you close in a blanket of his feathers, keeping you safe from any monsters while you and your stuffie got some well deserved rest.

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sykosomatic · 10 months

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Male reader x Billy or Stu thing where reader is a fan of horror video games and novels instead of movies?

yes!! this is so up my alley…. i’m gonna do both of the boys <3 pretty short, sfw, no warnings! hope you like it, anon!!

•••

stu (and billy, by extension of being right next to the two of you when the invitation was given) had invited you over to his house one weekend; he wanted to hang out with you again after seeing how you’d reacted to him being so enamored with horror movies. usually the others at school thought the pair were weird, strange and off-putting. but you knew the feeling, so you’d hit it off with them immediately.

and you had a surprise for them! you’d just bought what promised to be a really cool game; a horror point-and-click about a slasher killing a babysitter. heavily based on the halloween movies, you figured, but without the copyright. and it was in 8-bit, with the absolute coolest soundtrack.

when you got to stu’s house (with billy of course at your side, eyes leaving you so so briefly every few moments), you slid the disk into his parents’ computer, watching it boot up. you, in the desk chair, and the boys at each of your sides. you caught them with wide eyes, enamored, eager to see the next big thing that happened.

“oh! right there, knife her, man!” stu cheered, watching as you clicked the corresponding arrow; the two of them whooping and hollering when the player character slashed the babysitter up, splashing pixelated blood across the screen.

“can i go next?” billy asked with a broad, mischievous grin as your victory message popped up on the screen. he and stu shared a look you couldn’t really figure out, but that seemed harmless enough.

“oh, and then me, dude!” stu chortled, grinning ear to ear, leaning in closer to you. their eyes were bright like a child on christmas morning, eager to see how many bloody scenes they could play out.

you each unlocked new scenes throughout the night, and by sunrise, you’d beat the whole game.

“man…. this is way better than psycho…” you heard stu yawn as day broke into the window behind the three of you.

excited by the prospect of expanding the boys’ horizons, you went over to your overnight bag, pulling out two more things. books; horror novels, which you loved so dearly. though the boys weren’t really known for their activity with literature. “if you like that game, i think you’d really like these—…” you offered up, the boys turning to look at you as a final congratulatory cutscene finished playing on the screen.

they shared a look. “alright.. but only if you read them to us,” stu confirmed. you had a feeling you’d be in for a few more all-nighters at this rate. and you were so excited for the prospect.

#slashers #writing #male reader #drabble #billy loomis #stu macher #billy loomis x stu macher #billy loomis hc #billy loomis x male reader #stu macher x reader #stu macher x male reader #original scream #scream one shot #sfw #sfw Drabble #sfw slasher drabble #asks #asks answered #requests

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trigunwritings · 1 year

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hello! may i request a wolfwood x fem!reader where he returns after being gone for a few days to find the reader wearing his shirt bc it smells like him and brings them comfort? newly-ish established relationship so it's not a sight he's seen before. fluff or smut would be great. thank you! 💖💖

It’s an odd feeling, settling down. Not something he had given much thought to before. Living a life that roamed from one place to the next had left the man without a true concept of home and the comfort a place like that offered.

The orphanage was the closest he could think that might fall into the description, but that still didn’t quite fit—a familiar place in his memories, but it had long faded away into just that: a memory. One that he thought back on fondly from time to time, and one that he defended fiercely when it was in danger. He even sent money from time to time when he could spare it.

But all the same, Wolfwood had never once considered himself as having a home to return to. He lived his life assuming he simply would never have one; that he would wander without any true anchor for the rest of his ever-decreasing days. Why did an undertaker need a home anyway? Who would even wait for the return of a person with blood on their hands and sin in their hearts?

Not exactly material for a family-man anyway. At least, that’s what Wolfwood often told himself.

But that’s when he met you.

And his entire perspective changed.

Instead of wandering, he rarely liked to stray far from your side—it left him antsy and reaching for so many cigarettes that the inside of his mouth burned from the smoke. The idea of leaving you alone, even if you weren’t truly by yourself, was a source of anxiety that the man had never quite felt before. He wanted to be there for you, to make sure you were safe and fed and healthy and happy.

So he often kept his trips short, whatever travel was absolutely necessary for an odd job here or there, things that kept him busy and out of the perception of not those who would hurt him, but anyone that might try to come after you.

This last job took way too long to get done. Though he’d been given a huge payment for discretion and speed, it didn’t negate the fact that he had to travel for almost two full days just to make it back to the small town the two of you had taken to living in—one that didn’t ask too many questions of a wayward priest who smoked through a pack faster than he could say a proper prayer.

He felt a little nervous as he opened the front door, ears picking up only the sound of the desert wind rolling across the sand. It was just past midday, so why was it so quiet? His brains pulled and picked at a readied set of ideas that could have happened, so he quickly stepped into the small home and all but dropped his weapon against the wall as he glanced about—

-only to see you laying in bed, sleeping. Wolfwood let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“God…” he murmured. “That got me way too worked up. Good t’be…”

Home, though the word remained unspoken as he stepped closer to the bed in preparation to reach a hand out and shake your shoulder to waken you. Before he could however, Wolfwood couldn’t help but notice something. Something you were wearing, oversized and quite familiar…

He let out a chuckle.

“Making it a habit of wearing my stuff, huh?”

You don’t reply, as his soft words don’t wake you. Instead your body curls up tighter, hands and arms entangled in a soft blanket in the same way that you often cling to the man when he is sleeping in bed with you—as if he might disappear.

Wolfwood considers his options for a few moments before finally deciding that it doesn’t really matter. Why the hell not? A nap sounded pretty damn good after all the walking he’d done in the last twelve hours alone.

He climbs into bed beside you, pulling you back against his chest and burying his nose into your hair. You make a soft noise in your sleep, and he holds you even tighter, not wanting to let you out of his arms for even a moment. Never wanting to be away from you for as long as he could help it.

Because that’s the moment he decides that he does have a home—and that home is with you.

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun x reader #writing #sfw #Drabble #nicholas wolfwood #trigun wolfwood #wolfwood x reader #Wolfwood Drabble #sfw Drabble #sfw writing #love me a soft man in this household

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dcawritings · 3 months

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You're bewitched by the devil's lullaby Dance away in the dead of the night Hear the voices humming in your mind He will never let you out of sight

- Devil's Lullaby by Jim Yosef & Scarlett

It should burn.

The hands, the claws, the very touch should seep into your flesh like brimstone and fire, scorch through your still-white feathers like a dry thicket come alight by a sudden spark.

Every ounce of Grace still desperately singing in your blood should have long-since boiled away in the unyielding heat of Hell. And even then any denizen of the sinful Depths would see its blinding purity — and you as an extension — as nothing more than a beautiful, cloying drug promising the sweetest, most delectable high any immortal could experience.

You should be screaming in pain. Begging for mercy, praying for forgiveness, wishing and pleading for a swift end; anything other than the slow, painful drain of Grace that haunted the edges of stories told of the shadowy depths far beneath the aether of the cosmos.

And yet...

“Little thing,” a deep voice croons, low and steady while claws drag themselves through the nervous fluff of feathers that are your unkempt wings; it has been impossible to preen them properly yourself since falling over the edge of Heaven’s gates. “You’re thinkin’ a little too much again. Can see it on that pretty face.”

A second hand finds the curve of your chin and tugs it so your eyes lift and meet his.

They burn like coal, pupils white-hot and gaze burning hotter than anything you've ever seen before. Against the soft warmth of Heaven's skies, this demon lord's mere gaze is the center of a dying star, the very moment that its core implodes upon itself in a brilliant, horrible supernova.

You say nothing, but he knows he has your attention acutely.

He is Eclipse, after all, a member of the Circle of Seven and the namesake demon of Lust — who else is there for your focus to fall? It isn't like there's a more vibrant, attention-grabbing demon in his lavish mansion of a home after all. His visage is bright and hot and heavy; like a star made of lead.

It presses down over your shoulders like a heavy blanket.

"Sweet angel," he purrs, dragging those dagger-edged claws through the feathers covering your wings so gently that he manages only to pluck out the ones that are broken and loose.

Claws that can rip and tear through bone and flesh as easily as paper, claws that can maim and desecrate the floor with immortal blood with barely a glance if they so much as misspoke in earshot.

The same claws that should have burned you to ash the very moment he caught your limp, exhausted body as it had tumbled seemingly from Hell's dark sky.

The demon hums, cooing softly, "You'll burn yourself out thinkin' that hard, darling. No need for those silly. Little. Thoughts."

Eclipse emphasizes each word with a gentle tap to the tip of your nose, grinning wide and sharp with a maw of teeth that you know have ripped lesser demons apart.

You'd heard tales of Asmodeus, the official title given to the demon lord of lust, but you'd never imagine he would be like this. His body is tall and thin, face haloed by what seems to be a mockery of sunrays that glow a bright cherry red when he gets agitated. The flare of fire around his void-dark face was mostly at demons who prostrated themselves before him in the hope that he would offer them even a shred of his infernal power.

He never does.

Some are allowed to leave with a burning threat, while others are simply massacred on the spot; at least Eclipse has taken to using one of his massive hands to shield your eyes when he does it, quickly realizing the sight of shredded viscera bothered you deeply.

He spent hours consoling you after that first time, when all you can remember is the color of crimson staining the walls; that was also when the demon first started to call you his.

Never once did the dark, haunted stories of this terrible demon mention how gentle he can be. How his voice can feel like a soft breeze against your cheek and the half-remembered sound of home. How, when he soothes you with honeyed words, your body feels safe and warm and small and perfect—

"That's it," he coos, feeling you grow lax and loose against his chest again, wings unfolded so he could reach every inch from the base to the very tips. "Sweet little angel mine, you'll want for nothing if you just let me do all the hard thinking for you. Yes... Just relax, sleep. Sleeeeeep...."

You shouldn't feel so comforted by his words, his soothing touch, his burning hot presence pressing against you like a safety blanket.

His promises should be threats, his love should be loathing, his adoration should be the promise of pain and suffering — he should be supping from your Grace like a fine wine until nothing of you is left but a hollowed husk of a creature no longer welcome beyond the gilded embrace of Heaven's Gates.

So why do you feel safe?

"Sleep now," the words drift through the air like a promise. "Let go."

Eclipse may not be your kidnapper, but you are trapped all the same; a feeble bird in a burning cage, where the flames reaching between the bars threaten to blacken your feathers and rend every drop of heavenly light from your veins.

Can you even escape back to the holy light of Heaven? And, assuming that you even can eventually find a way back...

"Hush now, sweet one, and sleep for me. Don't fear for a moment, don't want for a thing — you're mine, after all."

... will you still want to leave?

"My beautiful little angel."

The warm embrace of unconsciousness had never felt so wonderful before.

So warm, so sweet, so addictingly perfect.

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dc-himbo · 3 months

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Jason Todd × Transmasc Reader

AN: Back at it again on my bullshit. Just wanted to write some Ole J. Todd thoughts. Transman reader, but really, you can read it as anyone that uses he/him pronouns. Corruption kink if you squint. NSFW (sort of...maybe) and all that. I'll probably start posting a few drabble here and there. Also, I like using this tense because it highlights he/him pronoun usage. I know some folks find it a little confusing, but I tried to be as clear as possible. Let me know any feedback. :)

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It's selfish.

The way he wants him is downright selfish. It's this yearning that calls out to him so fucking strongly he sometimes feels like he can't breathe. He has no idea how someone can be so fucking pure in Gotham and it's not fucking fair how he radiates sunshine and light and innocence.

Jason feels like touching him would mess him up. That it would leave behind dirty fingerprints and smears of back and red on his unmarked skin.

Jason hates that part of him wants to see it. Part of him wants to leave behind bruises and bites and marks. He wants to devour him. Corrupt him. Coax out every little gasp and moan and make him beg for things he didn't even know he wanted. It drives him crazy to think about. He wants him. He wants him, and it's not fair. He's fucking pissed about it.

Jason takes it out on him. He doesn't mean to... except maybe he does. Maybe it's easier if he hates him. If he avoids him. But he doesn't. If anything, he thinks it makes him more determined to be around him. He's always including him. Asking about him. Smiling at him. Listening to him.

So Jason tries. He tries and he tries so fucking hard to be worthy of him. He thinks that if he works hard to do the right thing, to be a good son and a good sibling, the dependable one, the reliable one... he thinks that if he can even be a fucking ounce of good like he is that he can maybe deserve to breathe the same fucking air be does. That his hands would be less dirty and he could touch him. That he can be more than just a quick fuck. That he can have more.

He's fucking selfish.

#jason todd drabble #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x transmasc!reader #as transman want to write transman #transman reader #trans reader #sfw drabble #corruption kink #if you squint

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happybird16 · 2 years

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“What’s wrong?”

Levi must have caught you pouting, staring down at the collection of shoe boxes in front of you.

Shopping is always such a pain, especially in big department stores. There’s always way too many options and most of them are bland and ugly. Especially shoe shopping. Generic boxy sneakers and fragile looking heels.

“I like this shoe, but…,” you click your tongue, shoving box after box to the side. “They don’t have any in my size.”

It was sweet of Levi to offer to come with you. He hates shopping even more than you do, especially big department stores. For the most part he’s just been hovering at the edge of the aisle, your items piling up in his arms.

Now he approaches your side, fabric rustling in his arms with every step. “That one? What size do you need?”

Rising from glaring at the stacked shelves, you tell him your size. “I don’t see any staff around.”

The whole store seems almost empty, nary another customer in sight. You can’t see a single vest in the entire department, the staff probably all flocked together somewhere to gossip. You can’t blame them, slow days at work suck.

“Hmm.” Levi looks around for a moment, eyes locking onto the swinging black doors denoting the departments back room. “Hold onto these for a moment.”

“Wha…” Shoving all the clothing you’ve gathered so far into your arms, the man turns to stomp towards the entrance.

“Levi! You can’t go back there! It’s employees only!”

“It’ll be fine,” Levi calls over his shoulder, the swinging doors closing firmly behind him.

Hot anxiety fills your stomach, goosebumps running along your arms and up your spine. Shuffling nervously in place, you twist the fabric in your grasp in a fit of nerves.

“I can’t believe he’s doing this.” Paranoid, you look nervously all around the department. What if someone finds out. What if staff comes by and finds him back there?

You really don’t want to get kicked out.

You pace and pace, wearing small circles into the carpeted floor in your worry. What if there’s already someone back there and he’s confronting them?

Time seems to be ticking by so slowly. Every minute feels like an hour. How long is he going to be back there?

Someone passes by and it makes your heart hammer hard in your throat. You’re going to get caught. You’re going to get caught. Someone’s going to find him back there and you’re going to get kicked out. Probably even banned.

You’re mind whirls, scenarios of being dragged out of the store swimming in your vision.

The doors catch behind you, swinging open with a loud plasticky snap. Your breath catches, and you turn to face the noise.

“Here.” Taking the items from your grasp, Levi shoves a rectangular box into your hands.

“My shoes?” It’s the ones you wanted in exactly your size.

“Figured if no one was around I’d just grab them myself,” Levi shrugs, as if it was something completely normal.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Bet you paced nervously and everything,” Levi jokes. “You always do that when you get anxious.”

Feeling called out, you feel your face heat in embarrassment. “We…we could have gotten in trouble!” The words come out a bit shaky as you shuffle the box in your hands.

“It’s fine. There wasn’t even anyone back there.” Levi clicks his tongue, “It was a fucking mess, took me forever to find anything.”

“Don’t do that again!” You’re happy to have the shoes, but that was way too stressful. Plus, he’s no doubt messed up the store’s inventory.

“If there’s no staff I’m just gunna’ fuckin’ go get it myself,” Levi rolls his eyes, before locking them back onto the box in your hands. “Those the right ones or do I have to go back in?”

#myaotdrabbles #Levi drabble #Levi x reader #Levi/reader #sfw #sfw drabble #Levi Ackerman #levi ackerman/reader #I remembered something my dad used to do when I was a kid #and it was such Levi behavior that I had to write something

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wtnvwritings · 2 years

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I mean... Kevin and “Do you wanna know a secret?” could go very well (or wrong) 👀👀👀

“Do you wanna know a secret?”

Your eyes narrow for a moment as you peer at the man over the book you were reading through—some anthology about Librarian attacks and how to recognize them in their native habitat and non-native bookstores (an invasive species there, really). There is something peculiar about Kevin’s tone, something mischievous and sly that ekes into every word like a child whom is barely trying to hide something they’d done.

“I don’t know,” you finally say. “Is this a secret sanctioned by the sheriff’s secret police?”

Kevin smiles, the corners too wide and his teeth too sharp. “Hardly!” he says, then laughs.

There’s a sudden clambering in the closet halfway across the apartment, the one between the living room and kitchen that you never opened. You sigh and turn towards it.

“We’re only joking!”

The clambering stops abruptly, to which your eyes return back to the book, and then finally to your boyfriend yet standing in front of you with an absolutely terrifying smile of mischief. He shifts a bit from one foot to the other, as if waiting for you to ask the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

“…what is the secret then, Kevin?”

“Oh you know, some of the normal secrets,” he says liltingly, like there’s a tune to his words. “The date of my death, the true face of the community radio station management-“

“I wouldn’t consider those normal secrets.”

He waves you off gently and continues, “-the exact price on merchantile goods even though sales tax is purposefully confusing, but most importantly… I got us a puppy!”

Before you have the chance to ask him why, how or even where the supposed pet is, the very creature appears in his arms all in the span of a blink. It writhes in his grip, looking as if liquid shadow with multiple eyes on every surface of its body—but relatively dog-shaped.

“Kevin,” you say slowly, caution filling your tone. “I thought the landlord said we couldn’t have pets.”

“He’s not a pet!” Kevin argues with a gleeful smile. “Instead he is a force of utter dismay and ill-fortune, destined to be the undoing of the fabric of the universe itself.” He pauses for a moment, then lifts the puppy into the air. “And he’s a trained emotional support animal! Cecil suggested I have one, and boy, he was on the money! I already love this adorable conduit of chaos!”

You sigh, a smile slowly pulling over your lips. At lease Cecil understood somewhat the trauma that Kevin was still healing from.

“Alright then, what are we going to name him?”

#wtnv #welcome to night vale #Drabble #sfw #sfw Drabble #writing #Kevin #WTNV Kevin #Kevin WTNV #kevin drabble #kevin writing #prompt drabble

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sleepingdeath-bboys · 1 year

Text

teddy bear ; fluff

pairing ; jamie winton x wife!reader

tag list ; @jamiewintons | @pink-booty-butts

word count ; 1027

warnings ; references to pregnancy, insecure!reader & body changes after child birth, potential ooc dialogue

read also on ; ao3 | wattpad

Everyone had always said that pregnancy and childbirth would be the most difficult thing you’d go through. That watching your body change and warp to welcome this new life would be jarring, dysphoric even, and your shifted hormones would only make things worse. That you’d ache and moan and swell until you were no longer able to lay or stand comfortably — and anything you dropped would cease to exist unless your husband was around to help.

An unfortunate truth you’d lived through when you’d accidentally lost your grip on your car keys and you’d bid them a tearful farewell, holding a private funeral service in your mind as you waddled back over to the settee. Feeling wider than you were tall as your baby kicked and shifted and shuffled about inside of you (and, as they so often did, managed to directly target your long suffering bladder).

But you didn’t care about all of that; you were happy to grow your perfect little family. You were excited to have a child with your husband and it showed — hell you damn near embodied that pregnancy glow that other mothers spoke about because of how unabashedly gleeful you were. The only real issues you experienced during that “difficult” time were your little one’s boxing matches with every organ in reach and other people’s insistence on getting to touch your swollen stomach.

Which, honestly, you never really understood and never really let happen, but you tried not to let it perturb you too much.

Even your labour wasn’t too much of a worry for you — of course it was painful and stressful, but it gave you your little girl. And being able to hold her tiny, pudgy fingers and look into those big brown eyes (which you’d always quietly hoped she’d inherit) made everything you’d gone through worth its metaphorical weight in gold.

The real issues began after you’d been discharged from the hospital and were able to return home. When you began to notice just how different everything was; how different you felt and looked and acted. That was the most difficult part by far.

————

It was just shy of eight in the evening when Jamie had put your little girl down for her evening nap after another feed and you’d found yourself standing in front of the bathroom mirror for what was probably the thousandth time. You couldn’t help but hawks and poke and prod at every little difference that had manifested about your body: the loose skin, the remaining swollen areas, your enlarged breasts and your stretch marks.

Tiger stripes you’d heard them be called — that and angel scratches and track marks and a million other things that they weren’t. You weren’t attacked and you certainly didn’t feel particularly brave… you just felt, wrong. Unlike yourself.

Like an observer in your own life; your own body.

Wrong. Unbecoming. Depersonalised. Not you. Not you. Not you.

A million degrading thoughts flashed through your mind like a flurry of swarming insects (bees perhaps for their stinging ferocity whenever you focused on their contents) and your careful, almost curious, ministrations turned violent and accusatory. Blaming your body wordlessly for betraying you, for changing too much, for not changing enough.

Why hadn’t you bounced back yet? Why had it scarred you, scorned you, with those damned reminders of everything you’d done?

You didn’t need the marks and the skin and the dimples and the scars to recall the little light you’d brought into the world. You’d seen her every day of her life, goddamn it — so why couldn’t it just let you heal -!

All at once you felt your thoughts and your motions come to a stuttering halt when a pair of long, slender arms wrapped around your torso and carefully guided your hands away from your stomach. Then they were followed by a pair of warm, soft lips pressing themselves chastely against the skin below your ear as those large hands rubbed comforting circles on the backs of your own.

And then came a deep, soft voice that was so rich with concern and adoration that you felt your resolve crumbling as traitorous tears slipped down your cheeks and your lips began to quiver with sobs you tried desperately to silence.

Don’t break down. Don’t break down.

“Talk to me, love; please let me help,”

The dam broke.

————

All at once you collapsed into yourself as Jamie turned you around and pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly and fiercely as you both slowly slid down onto the cold, damp floor. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, almost wailing and sobbing into his skin as he shushed and rocked you in his arms, his own tears wetting the top of your head as he listened to your insecurities and rebuked them with such certainty and sincerity that l you didn’t have the room (nor the energy) to argue.

“Darling you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,”

“You carried and grew and birthed an entire miniature human after nine months — your body changing is natural and expected. It doesn’t change how gorgeous and attractive you are to me,”

“I love you and your body just as much now as I did before you got pregnant — I just see the signs that you sacrificed so much to grow our family. You’re amazing, sweetheart, and I only wish that you could see that too,”

Then, once you had settled somewhat and calmed in his embrace, Jamie carefully repositioned himself and tilted your head upwards so that you were able to see him. See his red-rimmed irises and deep dark eye bags. See the reddening of his ears and cheeks and the quivering of his upturned lips. See the furrowing of his brow before he leaned forwards to press his forehead against yours and whispered out a promise that made your eyes start watering again.

“If you ever start feeling like this again, please talk to me. We’re life partners and I intend on keeping my promise to stick with you through everything; the good and the bad. You never have to go through this alone again,”

#sleepingdeath #18+ account #jamie winton x reader #sfw death #jamie winton fluff #female reader #ymata imagine #ymata fluff #ymata x reader #sfw drabble #fluff drabble

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aztecbrujeria · 5 months

Text

Sfw

Otters:

I looked around the palais, my cute fuzzy friends also looking, I saw the coast was clear and decided to tip toe to his office.

“He’s in court little ones he won’t know.”

I was leaving a trail of sea water behind me as I sloshed the big watering bucket in my arms holding the babies. I used my hips to open the door to his office and walked in backwards keeping an eye out.

“Phew, that was close little ones. We can wait for him h—“

“Ahem, Raindrop, what are yo—“

I turned around sloshing more water and the little ones began to chitter in my arms. I blushed and smiled.

“I-I found them alone and didn’t want to leave them…look they’re just babies aren’t they cute?”

My toothy grin followed by my joy at the otter pups as they all piled at the edge of the bucket and looked at Neuvillette, one held out a little seashell.

My beautiful hydro dragon raised his eyebrow taking in the look of me soaked and carrying the water bucket with the babies. He tipped his head back and started to laugh, making my heart melt. He held his sides and walked over to kiss me on my forehead and took the bucket.

“Come Raindrop, let’s get you dried and look at these little ones.”

Carefully he set the bucket down in front of his desk where the sunlight poured in and turned to grab a stack of towels he’d learned to keep in the office for me.

I sat down by the bucket and picked up one of the pups and cuddled it before putting him back in the large bucket. The soft terry cloth surrounded my shoulders as Neuvillette sat right behind me and pulled me in for a hug.

He rested his head on my shoulder as he peered over me into the bucket.

“Raindrop, you amaze me so much, but we can’t keep them love. We’ll have to return them to their rightful place.”

I sighed heavy and sat back into him.

“I know but they were all alone and I didn’t want them to get hurt.”

He hugged me and tipped my chin up,

“Why don’t we pick a place to start putting the orphans in so you can go and visit, yeah?”

My eyes sparkled up at him.

“Really?”

He smiled softly and bent down to give me a loving kiss.

“Yes my little raindrop…though I should call you a water nymph you keep showing up like this.”

I gave him another toothy grin and turned back to the bucket. That’s how we started a sea life sanctuary outside the city.

#husbando #genshin impact #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #sfw drabble

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trigunwritings · 1 year

Text

Names and Things

Rating: General

Relationship: Fem!Reader/Vash/Wolfwood

Summary: On the way home, Vash and Wolfwood argue.

Written by @blood--hunter

Note: A continuation of Bad Habits, but it’s not necessarily canon unless you, the reader, want it to be. The reader is married to Vash and Wolfwood. Implied to be pregnant. Never shown.

“Can’t believe you forgot the car…” Wolfwood grumbled, adjusting the rope over his shoulder. It was one thing to have to carry his weapon, but something else entirely to drag a man halfway across the desert.

Vash has the decency to at least look a little ashamed.

“Well, forgot is a strong word.”

“You got it fucking stolen. Didn’t you?”

His husband reamains quiet and Wolfwood can only shake his head. “You’re the reason I need to smoke.”

The leader of the Glass-Gang is still passed out, so there’s that. His luck wasn’t all bad today and there was the thought of returning home to their wife with full pockets and a job well done. That—at the very least—lifted his spirits.

“So,” Wolfwood says, trying to focus on something other than the near unbareable heat, “I was thinking Leon D. Wolfwood.”

Vash bulks, swinging his blond head around to look at him. “Who says he’s gonna get your last name!”

“Because I’m the only one who has one! Dumbass!”

“Well!” Vash stalls, obivously trying to think of a comeback as he pouts, “What about Kevin the Stampede?”

“Kevin? Really.”

His husband nods resolutely, “Or maybe—maybe something like Colton!”

“You just really want a hard ‘K’ sound, don’t you?”

“Yeah! I think it sounds cool!”

Wolfwood rolls his eyes and looks back as the man he had been tugging across the sand begins to stir.

“Looks like our bounty is waking up.”

Vash eyes the man as well before looking at Wolfwood with a smile, “Why don’t we ask him? Hey! Do you like Leon or Kevin?”

“Huh?” Is all the gang leader says.

Nicholas shakes his head, passing the rope to Vash.

“I’ve been dragging him for half a mile now. You take him.”

“No way!”

“You’re the one that lost the car!”

Vash takes the rope, pouting. Nick can only watch him, one brow raised. He didn’t dare slip a cigarette into his mouth, knowing that it would just end up flying into the desert like a piece of paper. Though, his fingers did itch for the lighter in his pocket.

“And if it’s a girl?” He asks, not thinking.

Vash gets that far away look on his face, the look he gets when he or their wife accidentally trips on something from his past. She’s always better at soothing him, but Wolfwood doesn’t know what to do in these situations, too used to being “tough” and not letting these things get to him.

“Rem. We’ll name her Rem.”

He’s silent for a few moments more, letting the sun beam down on the back of his neck. “Yeah. I think I like that.”

“I think Kevin sounds good.”

Both Vash and Nick swing their heads around, staring at the man half unconcious in the sand, a rope firmly around his middle.

“Yeah, maybe Leon isn’t so bad…” Vash murmurs, beginning to walk once more, the gang leader slowly being dragged after him.

“Told you … Do you think she’ll like it?”

“Ask her and find out! But I don’t think she’ll go for the middle initial.”

“D is not that bad!”

“…What does it even stand for anyways?”

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #Vash #nicholas d wolfwood #Wolfwood #trigun x reader #vash x reader #wolfwood x reader #writing #blood hunter #blood--hunter #sfw #sfw writing #Drabble #Vash Drabble #Wolfwood Drabble #sfw Drabble #fem!reader

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fullmetalwritings · 2 years

Note

Hey! Sorry to bother you but if your asks are still open, could you write a drabble for Kimblee with a male, state alchemist reader? (If you want to go more specific, he is called the Blood Alchemist because he can control the blood inside of a human being so he can control the body. He was used in wars many times before, but he hates gore. If you want you can change his title, I just forgot what it was supposed to be initially when I wrote him lmao)

When he looks at you, it’s more like that of a predator than that of a man. His gaze is as sharp as a knife. Between that and the pristine white suite that he wears, you couldn’t be more certain of the man’s identity even before he gave you his name and asked for your own in turn.

“Oh,” he murmurs, recognition seeping through his expression. “So you’re the Blood Alchemist. I’ve heard of your… work. Your record in the war was very interesting.” His eyes linger on your face for a few moments before he takes in a breath and crosses his arms. “Not a single casualty connected to your name and yet you excelled on every mission you had been assigned.”

You’re not quite sure what to say to him at that, even if what he’s telling you is only the truth. It’s not as if any of your missions had been kept a secret—no more than any other State Alchemist at the time of the Ishval Civil War. But your skills, so unlike that of your peers, had been put to a very unique form of use. Sure, you had not been the direct cause of death for countless innocent lives, but your puppeteering had certainly pushed more than a few into the direct sight of a sniper.

Kimblee seems to take the silence with continued interest, eventually deciding to take a seat across from you on the train heading towards Central. You had almost hoped that he would have passed you by entirely, but his familiarity with your face (something that most alchemists from the war seemed to have) was the downfall of such yearning for a peaceful ride home.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” you finally say. “I never wanted to be a tool in the first place.”

“We were tools the moment that we signed up for the military,” Kimblee argued, tone oddly soft for the harshness of the truth in his words, “and like it or not, there’s some pride to be taken in your skills. A man like you shouldn’t forget how much time and effort went into the research of your alchemy.”

“Research that killed hundreds,” you say, turning your eyes sternly out the window. “…Perhaps even thousands, or even more.”

“True enough.”

Kimblee doesn’t seem all that deterred, but he drops the subject without fanfare, his own eyes finally falling from you and towards the window overlooking some rolling hills and grasslands. For a few minutes, the silence is blissful—you even wonder if he might get up and leave you be. But of course, the man is nothing if not curious (and always had been in the few times the two of you had crossed one another), and finally turns back to look at you with a smile like that of a snake. Hungry. Dangerous.

“So tell me,” he says all too casually, resting his chin on his hand against the window, “what business does a man like you have in Central?”

This… is going to be a long, long train ride.

#writing #fmab #fma #solf kimblee drabble #drabble #sfw #sfw writing #sfw drabble #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist #kimblee #kimblee drabble #i don’t normally do overly detailed requests but gonna admit this one kinda called to me #and i just love kimblee too sdfsdflss

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endotwrites · 3 months

Text

simon takes up a lot of space

cw: gn reader, insecurity surrounding physical appearance

a/n: i’m running out of ideas to write about so gimme some time to think mwah 🥹

simon sometimes forgets he takes up so much space. he’ll reach for something across from him only to knock something else off the table. or he’ll try and tiptoe down the stairs for a sneaky cigarette only for the stairs to groan under his weight.

sometimes, simon wishes he could manoeuvre in a way that no one would even realise he was there. like a ghost, drifting through the hallways instead of a 6’4 man with the broadest shoulders known to man.

when simon sits with his thoughts and prays to whoever will listen to just make him the slight amount smaller, you’re there to remind him how much you adore him.

all of him.

his large biceps that encapsulates the whole of you when you pout at him for a bear hug. his wide back that he lets you sit on when doing push ups. his soft stomach that have stretch marks similar to your own.

teaching one another to love themselves for who they are was always a massive part of your relationship and as much as simon reminds you that he will love you no matter what, you are always there to say the same for him.

even if he takes up 3/4 of your bed.

#endot writes #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod modern warfare #cod #cod x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fanfic #ghost x reader #ghost drabble #ghost mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw3 #call of duty #endot sfw

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zephyrchama · 4 months

Text

Writing prompt: If MC had been a sheep since they came to the Devildom and then suddenly became human again, would the brothers recognize them? (Under the cut, all 7 brothers, SFW, written in second person.)

Others might have written about this before, it's a fun concept. In the beginning of the manga it's explained that MC appears to be a sheep for reasons. I like to think that they gradually change back and their sheep characteristics slowly become more human, while maintaining sheep-like qualities for a while, but it's more fun to write about if they just. suddenly. change back all at once, ta-da.

Humans sometimes face adverse effects when traversing realms. The unnatural spatial movement has equally unnatural consequences for human bodies, which is why you found yourself in the body of a small pink sheep when meeting the brothers for the first time.

Solomon and Diavolo say it will wear off in time, as you adjust to the Devildom. Your body will return to normal eventually, but they don’t know exactly how long. Its been quite some time now and everyone just accepts that this is how things are. You are a small pink sheep, and you are family.

You expected a gradual transformation - to slowly regain human features over time as you got used to life in the Devildom. That didn’t happen. Day by day nothing changed, until the transformation happened all at once.

Lucifer

Lucifer had seen your photo on the exchange student paperwork months ago. A generic little square image stapled to the application, hardly better than a driver’s license photo. He might have taken your paperwork out of the student council room and put it in his private office desk for safekeeping, or to look from time to time to remind himself you really were human.

He was the first one you thought to tell. A big change like this was surely worth a visit to his room, even if he was busy. You knocked your usual knock. Now that you were human-sized, you could reach the middle of the door, but the lack of hooves meant your knock was quieter. There were several seconds of silence. Maybe he didn’t hear you. You went to knock again, but a familiar gruff voice called out “come in,” from the other side so you reached for the handle.

There were piles of record book and stacks of forms upon the desk, but the eldest brother was still visible from the doorway. As if sensing something was different, he paused mid-writing and looked up. Lucifer was taken aback for a moment but quickly regained his usual composed poker face. You tried to hide a smile. Seeing him surprised like that was a rare occasion.

“I see you’ve finally gotten used to it here. Congratulations.” Maybe it was the soft light inside the House of Lamentation, but Lucifer thought you looked far better in person than in that photo. He put down his pen and crossed his hands under his chin. It almost masked the way he leaned slightly forward to get a better look at you over the large desk. “Do you feel alright?”

You nodded, it was strange to adjust to your old height again but you were glad to be back in your body. “You’re sure you feel fine? Come here,” he commanded.

Sitting next to him as a sheep while he worked had become so natural, yet doing so now as a human made you feel so self conscious. Your eyes wandered around the room, avoiding his gaze until he grabbed your shoulder and said “look at me.”

To you, he was just being overprotective. A routine check up on the exchange student to make sure they’re healthy after a sudden transformation. Maybe being close enough to feel his breath each time he exhaled was also necessary. To Lucifer, it was the time he’d been waiting months for. To see your glossy hair, not just a ball of wool, and study the contours of your face. How smooth your cheeks were and the way you politely kept up an embarrassed smile. Yes, the real deal was much nicer than a photograph.

Mammon

Mammon had no idea who you were, at first. You were sitting on the couch, wasting time while waiting for the next family meal. The front door slammed open loudly and closed with a bang. Mammon finally strolled into the living room after a long evening of make-up lessons at school.

“When’s dinner ready? I’m starvin’!” His boisterous voice made the house a little livelier. “And hey, where’s--”

He stammered when his eyes met yours and his voice faltered back down to a normal indoor volume. “Didn’ know we had someone vistin’. Hmph.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he really this dense? He couldn’t recognize you despite all the time you spend together? You turned around to watch over the back of the couch as Mammon walked to the dining room, then left to go down the hallway that led to your room. Several moments later he was in the kitchen. You could hear voices, but not what was said.

After some time he came meandering back to the living room. With one hand on his hip, he remained standing and leaned against the other couch. He was agitated and impatient, and with no one else around he turned to you.

It must have been five seconds, max, but it felt like you stared at each other for an hour. You pouted, glaring at the idiot who thought you seemed like an oddly familiar and comforting presence. “Who’re ya here to see? If it’s The Great Mammon, I’m a busy guy. I can’t just stand around. WIthout compensation, I’m leavin’.”

“Mammon,” you said. Just one word. You sounded hurt. It made his heart skip a beat, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Huh? What’d you say?” He heard you loud and clear. He just wanted you to speak again, to hear your voice once more and confirm he wasn’t imagining things.

Of all the ways you imagined showing off your human body to him, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Maybe you were wrong for expecting him to recognize you no matter what, but just like him you would never admit that.

“Oh my gosh, you’re a fool! Here’s your ‘compensation!’” Swiftly, you launched a decorative cushion square at his stomach. Your strike is nothing to him, but you landed an emotional blow when you went to storm off.

He grabbed your wrist before you got out of arm’s reach. Forcefully at first, but quickly realized he had to loosen up to avoid hurting you. “Wh- huh? Is that you? Why didn’t you say anything!? When did this happen?”

Walking away was futile as Mammon was rooted to the spot. “That’s really you, right? This ain’t a joke?”

He pulled you in towards him and spun you around to look at your face. You were mad and upset and relieved that he stopped you and embarrassed at having so many emotions at once. He finally knew, you're his human, alright.

Leviathan

It took a while for things to click for Leviathan.

He first saw you from afar on campus. He wanted to steer clear from you., like with every other student. Though he did do a double-take and stare.

He’d never seen you (well, proper human you) around before, and you looked just like the customizable characters you always created in his games. Same hair style, same eyes, same sense of style. His P2 was real. It was uncanny and he couldn’t wait to tell you all about seeing your player character wandering around campus.

That’s when he realized he hadn’t seen you all day. The sheep you. You were always easy to find due to being bogarted by his flashy brothers. You were one of the few to casually greet him every day as assurance he was welcome at RAD. You were human, and humans weren’t sheep. Didn’t Lucifer say something about that when you first arrived? Oh.

When Leviathan didn’t show up to classes after lunch you went looking for him. It was a tough quest. He wasn’t in any of the usual hiding places and wasn’t answering his DDD. He really didn’t want to see you. Or, well, he really did, but clearly wasn’t prepared to. You finally found him on a bench, shrouded by overgrown tree branches and isolated far on the outskirts of RAD’s campus.

Low muttering gave away his hiding space, unintelligible as he was biting down hard on his thumbnail while he raved. His hair was a tousled mess and from time to time he’d jump up to flail or shake his head.

“Lev-”

You tried to greet him and got met with a glorious, high-pitched shriek. You pushed on anyway.

“Levi! I’ve been looking for you. Notice anything different today?”

“You! Y-y-y-youuu!!” He could not look you in the eye, or look at you at all, but your familiar voice made everything clear. It took some time for him to speak again.  ”You sat in my bed! You sat in my lap!” He referenced all the times you’d stay up late gaming with him. He never objected to that before. “You! You did all that! How could you?”

 ”I… thought we were friends?” ”Well I didn’t know you looked like that!”

All the wholesome memories Levi had of you two bonding, demon and sheep, suddenly changed. No longer were you a cute fuzzball sitting on his legs or snug against him like a plush while he slept. You were a cute human, with human features, sitting between his legs and being held against him in bed. Overnight you went from essentially a security plush to a real person, and he was having trouble adjusting.

“You lied to me! Aagh!” He kicked his legs and pulled at his hair in anxious frustration, his thoughts branching in dozens of conflicting paths at once, so you did the only thing you knew to calm him. A big hug.

He froze right up. You stubbornly told him “I’m still me, you know.”

“But you look…” For the first time he tried looking right at you, but all you noticed was the intense blush across his face. It made you smile.

Satan

Great Detective Satan picked up on your change quickly. It wasn’t hard to deduce for anyone who paid close attention to mysteries, like he did.

You hadn’t asked for any help that morning reaching for things high up. You didn’t ask anyone to carry your heavy school books. Most obviously, you were sitting in the dining room enjoying a hearty piece of toast when he also sat down to eat breakfast. Even though he didn’t physically recognize you, who else would be fearlessly sitting at the House of Lamentation’s breakfast table and happily greeting the Avatar of Wrath?

Rather than the scrambled eggs, Satan was most interested in you. He didn’t hide the way he stared. “You look different.” Slowly, eyes never wavering, he took the chair beside you.  ”Oh yeah! Check it out, I changed back!” You went to stand up and show off, but first needed to wipe the crumbs off your face. Too bad the napkin just slid off your lap and onto the floor. “Ah, hold on, I’ll show you in a sec. It’ll be worth it.” You didn’t want to look sloppy on your first day as a human again, and although hands were easier to eat with than hooves, you had prioritized munching on delicious breakfast food over eating cleanly. Without another clean napkin in arm’s reach, you went to pick up what had fallen.

“Allow me.” Napkin unfolded, Satan leaned in close. Before you could acknowledge his offer he had a hand wrapped around your chin. The heat of his fingers could be felt on your lips through the cloth. He spent an unnecessarily long time tracing the contours around your mouth. A cleaning this thorough would surely ward crumbs off your face for at least a week.

A full minute later, Satan was satisfied and leaned back in his own chair. He didn’t stop staring though. You gave a heartfelt, “thanks! Now let me show you,” and stood up to twirl.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus recognized you right away. He was the only one not taken aback, and was thrilled to see you returned to full glory. “You look just like your socials!”

Not one to miss out on trends, Asmodeus had signed up for a few human realm social media sites. He considered it to be the cultural exchange aspect of your exchange program. On particularly slow evenings he’d even scroll through several years of your image posts and save the cutest ones. Asmodeus was very well acquainted with both your human and sheep looks.

“Do you have anything to wear other than your uniform? We really should trim your hair, too. That didn’t stop growing while you were a sheep, huh?” He was immediately all over you, twirling your hair in his long fingers while circling like a predator locked on to its prey.

“Oh really?” You hadn’t noticed your hair being overly long. You were just happy to be back to normal. “Yeah I’ve got plenty of clothes, but my hair? Are there, like, demon barbers around here? Can you help?”

“Leave it to me! And your nails!” His hand found yours and soon your fingers were entwined. He lifted them up, cheerily exclaiming “how about matching with me?” as he pulled you towards his room. It was hard to keep up with him, but at least you stood a chance now unlike before in that small body. He noticed, and with a cheeky grin turned to ask “you're not still having trouble? I’ll carry you, you know. And when you need another trim, you come to me first.”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub lucked out. He came into the dining hall for the most important meal of the day, just in time to see you twirl for Satan, proclaiming “I’m back!”

Your voice was the same, and you smelled the same as ever. He let out an astonished “woah” while taking the seat across from you. This new form was much better than the sheep one. His fears of accidentally hurting you with too much strength somewhat abated. Though, in his eyes you were still tiny.

“Morning!” you greeted. “Notice anything new?” ”Boy, do I.” Through a mouthful of food, he asked “how did this happen?” 

“Dunno, it must have happened overnight. I just woke up and bam.” You flashed a pair of finger guns at Beel and he laughed.

After breakfast, you two became alone in the dining room. You piled up the dirty dishes and Beelzebub carried them into the kitchen as you followed behind, saying “we better hurry, I didn’t realize it was this late already.”

“Yeah.” He placed everything in the sink, then turned to face you. He held out his arms. “Ready to go?”

Carrying you to school appears to have become a habit. Beel didn’t even hesitate to gently lift you up like you were weightless. It was an everyday occurrence when you were a sheep. But back in your old body with longer legs, having his arm wrap around your waist without a layer of thick wool to cushion you, things felt different. “Y’know, I might be able to walk to school today.”

“Hm?” Beelzebub took a moment to process this. Like he had completely forgotten you got your body back in that short span of time. “Oh! Sorry. Force of habit.” Almost dejectedly, he crouched to set you back on the ground. You reached around to grab his shoulders anyway.

“Well, I never said you had to let go.”

Belphegor

Belphegor thought he was still sleeping. Your human figure was a familiar sight he had seen multiple times. It was how you manifested in your dreams, after all. Sometimes when you napped together he would pick up glimpses of your dreams. On this day he had made it to RAD with time to spare and was dozing off in his seat when you arrived.

Unreservedly, he dragged himself several feet over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder right next to your ear. “Hey.” This was a dream anyway, might as well enjoy it.

“Belphie, are you still asleep?” you asked. Physical contact wasn’t so bad, but it got embarrassing in public like this. With a futile shake you tried to rouse him. “Look! Did you notice? I’m not a sheep anymore!”

“Mm, yeah. You’re you.” Avoiding the lights, he buried his eyes in your neck, wishing it was a little darker. He liked you like this. But if this was a dream, why did the light bother him? Why was he still so tired? “Is it… Hm? What time is it?”

“Time for class to start soon. If you fall asleep again Lucifer is gonna kick your butt. Wake up.” You roughly ruffled his hair, causing him to groan and cling to your waist tighter. It did succeed in getting him to raise his head, at least.

After a sleepy pause, Belphegor seemed to grasp his surroundings. He squinted and leaned back, sizing you up. You couldn't tell if he was waking up or preparing to slouch down again until he spoke. “You really changed back? For real?”

“Yep!”

“Heh, good for you.” He pat your sides and let go. It tickled a little. Now, while you were distracted, was his turn to ruffle your hair. Payback disguised as playful praise.

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