#HES SMART YOUR HONOR I SWEAR

[velarisdusk]

god i hate the narrative that cassian is just some dumb bumbling brute and it’s all sarah janet’s fault with acosf. like idk abt yall but i remember him being pretty well spoken before that book?? like i remember my voice for him while reading was like,, not quite regal but like NICE IDK, and during sf bc of the way he was speaking it turned into like,, a bimbo jock idfk

and i mean he literally studies and implements war strategy for a living, that’s his life’s work, that takes BRAINS. and listen, have we seen things go wrong on that front more often than not? sure, yes. but i urge you to remember that the war against hybern and the queens was unprecedented for ALL of them. they’d never fought in anything as batshit as that before, sure the War, BUT WAS THE CAULDRON IN PLAY?? NO

ON TOP OF THAT, a point i’ve seen many times is that he literally helped feyre process her trauma SO WELL in acomaf, and you mean to tell me he had to be TOLD nesta, HIS MATE, was scared of fire??? when he literally saw her flinch and wince every time they were around fire?? be fucking for real dude.

in short, sjm i don’t know what you did with the real cassian, but bring him back right the fuck now. i don’t like the dumbass you brought in that you’re trying to pass off as him

[emacrow]

Lilith, The Mistress of Fear is getting her small scarecrow. By emacrow/prompt creator pt 1

It was her turn to watch over the young king in his latest, most rarest vacation, reincarnation at the finest.

Unfortunately, being alive is the cost she paid gratefully because the last reincarnation vacation his majesty had took was ended shortly due to the idiotic ghost guard who fell to watch him.

This time Fright Knight was smart enough to use the reincarnation trip easy enough, but being reborn in a woman body that was shocking similar to her own original body from back then was nostalgic in a tragic way.

Same two birthmarks under her right dark emerald eye and right side of her mouth. The chaotic scar covered her left arm, and long scar going through her right eyebrow across her pale emerald eye, ending at her cheekbone.

Her body was still strong and muscular in the sense of tallness, but unfortunately she can still feel the softness that she needed to train more as she could still hold the soulshredder that seemed to had grow larger in size for her. (I think because your ghost form was much taller than you think?)

Clothes are a bit smaller as she gotten older and much taller then most ladies and men, then what she used to but getting specially tailored clothes to match her size was a godsend.

She had been alive for twenty-four year now, working as a bounty huntress that these small men whisper of The Mistress of Fear at night, while taking care of the young king in the daytime who was born to shameful parents that dare abandoned him in a wasteful bin.

Thankfully She can trace where his newest body was at the right time, not mere a couple minutes before the disposal men come with their raging machine on wheels.

Five years in Gotham, she kept a downlow considering there is a liminal in a bat suit patrolling around. Unfortunately that didn't last with a particular scarecrow.

Said scarecrow who was in sack mask looking at her with his face redder than a tomato considering she was sitting on him in her living room.

Jonathan Crane, supposed bringer of Fear as the Scarecrow.

Amateur at best.

Lilith considered Crane annoying at the beginning the first three dozen times they has met up with him trying to spray her with 'Fear Toxin and Gas' considering how he believe he was better at her with bringing Fear to other.

That declaration made her laugh hard that first meeting if Crane think he could best her, with how short and scrawny he was compared to her majestic tall and strong form, even her young King wasn't that scrawny when he was a ghostling.

This supposed 'Fear Toxin' was nothing to her, for she was The Mistress of Fear, formerly known as The Fright Knight in the infinite realm.

Then came the odd courting such a present with a doll stuffed filled with exploding Fear toxic, chocolate with toxic vial filled with the hazelnut spreading inside added a nice flavor, the dance between the two during a gold spar giving her a good nick on her shoulder was a nice touch, switching the candle in her crafted pumpkin with a ticking bomb full of Fear gas was a lovely gesture for her halloween party, and the best was a beautiful Sword sheath filled with concreated Fear toxic that melt even the hardest metal, but the soulshredder seem to love the spa treatment in it. Lilith swear the soulshredder was spoiled rotten by that sword sheath.

The little sneaky seeking short man somewhat crawled into her anicent void of a broken heart, and took over. She enjoyed their weekly meeting between them now that was until two weeks ago.

Jonathan can deny and struggle all he wanted after the last discussion and spar two weeks ago when she told him that she accepted his courting, which led to him avoiding her like a ghost, ha.

Jonathan think he could avoid her after taking her heart with him was rather dull of him considering she knew all his secrets hideouts by now with the amount of time he had kidnapped her in the previous years.

He should be honored to gain the hand in marriage of Mistress of Fear after all the beautiful lavishly courting gifts he sented her the past 2 years. Badly lying and saying they were to sabotage her was laughable. He had seduced her mind, and then she seduced him the same way all the way into marriage.

There is no escaping The Mistress of Fear, Jonathan. You dug into this haunted house of a heart, and once you're in, there is no escape.

Second part link here<-

[kiwriteswords]

Planting Seeds [Aaron Hotchner x Florist!Reader]

Florist!Reader Masterlist|| Main Masterlist [I need to update this, sorry!]|| Ao3||Word Count: 2.3k|| AN: Florist!Reader is making me miss my days at a florist so much, I have been applying for weekend jobs just to get back into it for fun! Tags/Warnings: Female!Reader, Florist!Reader, Non-BAU!Reader, pre-relationship, slight angst, Hotch is clueless, Sassy!Reader, Flirty!Reader, JJ putting Hotch in his place, Reader is JJ's friend from college, sexual jokes, Aaron Hotchner doesn't realize how he comes across, mentions of bad men!!. Summary: Aaron Hotchner has to prove to you that he's not like other men who come into your flower shop, but when he's sort of clueless to how he might be percieved, he realizes he needs to make it right to you.

For someone who ran a flower shop, you’d long stopped believing in fairytales.

Romance? Sure. It bloomed in your shop every day. Husbands who still brought home roses after twenty years. First-date jitters, apologies tucked into tulip petals, “I’m sorry I was an idiot” scrawled on notecards. 

You’d seen it all. 

You arranged it all.

But the reality was this: for every sweet old man who wanted to surprise his wife, there were just as many men walking in with wedding rings they pretended not to wear and vague stories about coworkers or friends they just happened to be buying orchids for at 7 p.m. on a Friday.

You smiled for them all. 

That’s what you did. 

But you didn’t swoon anymore. 

Not even when the suit was expensive, and the jawline could cut glass.

Not even when he walked in again.

Badge and all. 

The bell above the door chimed, and you glanced up from behind the counter--

Aaron Hotchner.

You remembered his name, of course. JJ’s broody FBI friend. The one with quiet eyes and sad shoulders and impeccable taste in arrangements. The one you’d flirted with a little too easily last time, not expecting he’d ever actually come back.

And yet---

Here he was. 

Suit and all.

A small pause in the doorway, as if checking to make sure he wasn’t interrupting anything. He looked…better in the daylight. Less weight behind his eyes, maybe.

Or maybe you were just projecting.

“Agent Hotchner,” you greeted smoothly, standing up and brushing off your apron. “Back so soon. I’m honored.”

He gave you a polite nod. “It’s my partner’s birthday. I thought flowers might be a nice gesture from the team.”

Partner. Mmhm.

You walked around the counter, wiping your hands on a towel tucked into your waistband. “Let me guess. Female partner?”

He hesitated for a half-second. “Yes. Emily.”

“Right,” you said, nodding like it didn’t matter. Like you didn’t already recognize that vague tone. That slightly-too-careful wording. Not girlfriend. Not wife. Just Emily.

You’d had plenty of Aarons in this shop.

Buying peonies for their assistant. Daisies for their kid’s teacher. Something casual for a friend---

Never clarifying the business or romantic variety. 

Always just vague enough to keep their conscience clean.

You’d also had plenty of men who looked at you like Hotch did now---

Measured, intrigued, maybe even a little charmed.

And sure, it stung a little, watching yet another man you might’ve flirted back with turn out to be someone else’s. You weren’t bitter. You were just tired.

“All men say that,” you muttered under your breath, then caught yourself.

He tilted his head. “Pardon?”

“Nothing,” you said, offering your best customer service smile. “So, for Emily---what’s she like? Fun and bright? Elegant and aloof? What’s the vibe?”

He considered it. “Tough. Smart. She’d roll her eyes if this was too sentimental. But she’s important to me. To the team.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So…understated, but meaningful.”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

“Alright, Agent Hotchner.” You stepped back toward the wall of fresh blooms, motioning for him to follow. “Let’s find the perfect ‘I swear this isn’t too sentimental, but I still care deeply’ birthday bouquet for your very important…partner.”

He didn’t respond to the teasing lilt in your voice. Just followed quietly, eyes scanning the rows of color in front of him.

You told yourself not to care.

You arranged flowers for wives and girlfriends and side pieces every damn day.

He was no different.

Even if---some small part of you hoped---you were wrong.

Hotch wasn’t oblivious.

He noticed the shift the second it happened.

One moment, your smile had been coy, your laugh light and easy as you teased him about flower language. The next---

It was like a door had closed. 

Not slamming, no. 

Just…quietly locking behind you.

You stopped meeting his gaze. Your tone went crisp. Polite. Your hands moved faster, more business than artistry. 

When you asked, “Would you like to include a card?” there wasn’t a trace of the playful warmth from last time.

He had no idea what he’d done.

But he knew what it looked like.

Disinterest. You were no longer charmed. Maybe you never were.

“Just sign it from all of us,” he said simply.

You nodded and scribbled the note without looking up. “It’ll be ready in ten minutes. You’re welcome to wait, or I can set it up as a delivery.”

“I’ll wait.”

You didn’t respond.

And he didn’t press.

The arrangement was beautiful, of course. You were good at what you did. The flowers were understated but elegant---

Dark burgundy ranunculus, dusty pink garden roses, seeded eucalyptus, and sprigs of something pale and trailing. It was thoughtful. Exactly what he’d asked for.

He thanked you. You smiled---distant---and turned back to your workspace.

Hotch left with the bouquet and a strange, tight feeling in his chest that he couldn’t quite name.

He told himself it didn’t matter.

He was imagining it.

Probably.

Later that afternoon, JJ knocked lightly on his office door, stepped in, and closed it behind her. She had that, “I mean business,” look written on her face that he’d only seen a number of times. 

Typically, when something hits close to home. 

Never a good sign.

Hotch looked up from his case file. “Something wrong?

JJ crossed her arms and fixed him with a stare he’d seen her use on suspects in the field. “You really tanked that flower shop visit, huh?”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

She walked up to his desk, voice low and unimpressed. “She called me. Five minutes after you left.”

“…She--who?”

JJ said your name like it was obvious. “The florist, Hotch? My friend since college, who I told you was sweet, single, and might actually like you if you tried being a human man for five minutes.”

He gave a slow blink, still very much processing. “She called you?”

“Oh, yeah.” JJ leaned against the desk. “Said---and I quote---‘Why would you tell me he’s single if he clearly has a partner? I don’t sell second bouquets for side chicks, JJ.’”

Hotch blinked again.

JJ threw her hands up. “Do you see what you’ve done?”

“I---wait. She thought---Emily?”

JJ stared at him. “Yes. Because you called her your partner and got all vague and cryptic, like every married man who’s ever flirted with her while hiding a wife and a mistress in the car.”

Hotch exhaled, rubbing his temple. “I meant work partner.”

“Well, yeah, we know that,” JJ said, exasperated. “But you didn’t say that. You gave zero context. You walked into her space again, brooded around her flowers, flirted like it was your job, and then acted like you were spoken for.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

JJ raised both brows. “Hotch.”

A pause.

“…I don’t…flirt.”

She sighed, though there was the faintest tug of amusement at her lips. “You need to fix it.”

Hotch shook his head. “If she’s not interested---”

“She was interested,” JJ cut in. “Until you made it sound like you were emotionally unavailable and off the market. I told her you were a good guy. That you’re single. Thoughtful. That you used to buy flowers for your wife. That you’d never play games.”

Hotch looked down for a beat. That ache in his chest again---

Sharper this time.

“I didn’t mean to give her the wrong impression.”

“Well, you did,” JJ said, softening slightly. “But the good news is, she still asked me if you were actually seeing someone. Which means she cared enough to be annoyed.”

Hotch didn’t respond. Just stared down at the file, the corners now creased under his fingers.

JJ smirked. “You going to keep reading that page you’ve been on for ten minutes, or are you going to go get your dignity back?”

He looked up. 

And this time, he didn’t argue.

Hotch didn’t usually get nervous.

Not in the field, not with a gun to his head, not when standing in front of a room full of press demanding answers. But now? Standing outside a flower shop with his hands in his coat pockets, replaying JJ’s very blunt advice over and over in his head?

Yeah. 

He was nervous.

The bell chimed as he stepped inside.

You didn’t look up at first. You were focused, hunched slightly over your workbench, carefully arranging peach garden roses and lisianthus into a tall glass vase. 

You wore a sleeveless black turtleneck under your apron and a pair of gold earrings that swung gently when you moved. Even with your hair pulled back, you looked like you belonged in an editorial---

Effortlessly composed, fingertips lightly dusted with pollen.

When you finally did glance up, your posture didn’t change.

Neither did your face.

“Agent Hotchner,” you said, voice cool but professional. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

He nodded. “I was hoping you had a minute.”

You gave a small, casual shrug. “For you? Sure. Two minutes. That’s the customer service minimum.”

Ouch.

You wiped your hands on a towel at your hip, crossing your arms. You weren’t being rude---

Not at all. 

(Maybe a little…)

But you’d turned off the warmth you’d had before. Your smile was polite, lips pressed and practiced. Your tone was smooth and just a little flat.

Like you’d been disappointed before.

He exhaled slowly. “I wanted to apologize. For earlier.”

You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Which part?”

Touché.

He shifted his stance but didn’t look away. “For being unclear. I wasn’t trying to mislead you. Emily is my…my coworker. A close friend. But that’s it.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. Not unkind, just…guarded. Assessing him the same way he probably assessed everyone who walked through your door.

“Okay,” you said simply.

Hotch blinked. “Okay?”

“Well,” you added with a mild shrug, “I assumed either JJ was lying to me about you being single, or you were one of those guys who likes to keep their options open while pretending they’re not taken. You know how many of those walk in here?”

You didn’t wait for an answer.

“I had a guy last month buy a bouquet for his wife, come back ten minutes later to buy the same one for his girlfriend, and then tried to get a third for his assistant. Said it was easier if they all looked alike so he wouldn't forget who got what.”

Hotch looked mortified. “That’s…”

“Creative,” you said dryly. “And disgusting.”

He actually huffed a small laugh at that, and you cracked a smile. Just barely.

“I’ve seen worse,” you added. “Men who text their mistress while I’m ringing them out. Men who ask if I’ll personally deliver the flowers to their wife, and when I say I don’t offer delivery, they go, ‘Well, maybe you could do it for me, sweetheart.’” You shook your head. “So yeah. I’m a little…guarded when a handsome man in a suit comes in, acts sweet, and says he’s got a ‘partner.’ It’s never just one woman, Agent Hotchner. It’s a minimum of three.”

He winced. “I didn’t mean to sound like that kind of man.”

You met his eyes. “You didn’t mean to. But you did.”

There was silence for a moment. Not cold---

Just full.

Then you softened, just slightly.

“I’m not mad,” you said. “I’m just used to protecting my peace. You’re not the first to walk in here and look interested until reality caught up to them.”

Hotch straightened a little. “And if I said I was still interested?”

You raised a brow. “Then I’d ask why you didn’t say that before walking out of here like you’d never met me.”

He paused. “I assumed you weren’t.”

“Aaron Hotchner,” you said flatly, “you assumed wrong.”

Something about the way you said it---firm, unapologetic, completely in control of your own narrative---hit him hard.

You didn’t blink. Didn’t backpedal. Just stood there like you’d said nothing out of the ordinary, even though his heart had stuttered a little.

“So,” you added, “are we still doing this apology thing, or are you going to ask me on a proper date?”

That actually made him laugh---

Low and quiet and genuine.

“I’d like to start over,” he said. “If you’ll let me.”

You gave a small nod. “Alright. Clean slate.”

You stepped behind the counter again, reaching for a narrow glass vase. Then, from a bucket behind you, you pulled a single dahlia---

Soft pink with deep copper tips.

You twirled it gently between your fingers before sliding it into the vase and pushing it toward him.

“This is my favorite,” you said. “Dahlia. Strength, softness, elegance, survival. Kind of a metaphor, if you think about it.”

Hotch nodded slowly. “It’s beautiful.”

You didn’t need to get into the specifics of the metaphor being that Dahlias…so rare and so difficult to grow and nurture, that there were contests to see who could grow the biggest and best one. In some ways you related to them. A flower that most couldn’t quite nail down how to care for. 

You tapped your fingers lightly against the counter. “If you come back with a bouquet of those? For me? Maybe I’ll flirt with you again.”

He smirked. “Was that what you were doing?”

You leaned in just slightly. “Don’t flatter yourself. I flirt better when I’m not annoyed.”

Hotch took the vase carefully, fingers brushing yours just for a second. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And Hotch?”

He looked up from the flower in his hand.

You gave him a soft, knowing smile. “Next time you walk in here, leave the guilt and the vague statements at the door. I don’t bite.”

Another pause.

Then you grinned. “Unless you ask nicely.”

And that was when Hotch knew he was in trouble.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy

[munv]

Hii cld i request for diasomnia with a reader like sparkle from hsr?

DIASOMNIA X !SPARKLE READER

I kid you not..I have NOT played honkai star rail ever since the new planet came out..Im behind in terms of memory and in service apologies if this isnt accurate enough I had to run to the wiki for this on a Sunday morning (it was 12 when i started to write this)

discord server

MALLEUS

At first, he would see you roaming around faintly, but he never knew if you were some spirit, a fairy, or a trickster fae. He finds himself interested in the way you are able to change your appearance more than once, sometimes you'll pop up as lilia, maybe even silver. Perhaps another dorm leader if you're up to it !

He finds himself less lonely and letting out light laughs at your antics. He watches as you agitate sebek more times than he could count. You have a very interesting way of describing things as well and sometimes he has you become him just to satisfy his curiosity

LILIA

He's literally you. You're literally him. You are one.

He likes the way you arent interested in anything crazy like wealth or power, but mere amusement. You're dramatic, chaotic, and full of mystery. He's cackling and giggling with you in seconds.

Sometimes the both of you will act out plays with overwhelming flair. He's literally obsessed its crazy. He always like to dance around the mask you've made your own. Slightly pushing to figure out your identity but never quite doing such. He wants to keep it fun, despite being skeptical.

SILVER

You confuse Silver. Now, he's a smart boy but theres a limit to what he can figure out when you're involved (nothing). He dead asked you where Lilia put his blanket and you said "Sleep soundly upon it dear knight, the answer will come in a sound dream"

"...so..the dorm longue or no??"

"yes!"

He let out a sigh as you giggled

As mischievous as you are, he notices that you arent malicious and only want some fun. So he tolerates you and the odd nicknames you give him. You'll sing him lullabies, the rhythm luring him into his dreams. He's come to terms that he has grown comfortable with you. Smiling as he drifts off into wonderland

SEBEK

He REFUSES to even understand the seeming madness that spouts from your mouth whenever he's within your vicinity. You enter the room? "valiant knight! there you are!" He screams in genuine terror.

You wink, disappear, he tries to follow - yet hits a wall.

He loathes every second you appear (according to him, we all know he lies)

Yet, its so different when he's defending your honor. He's furious, unforgiving, brutal, and loud. You swear there were some slurs in there somewhere...

When you arent looking? he smiles at your theatrics

[yandereunsolved]

𐚁 Yandere High Honor Arthur Morgan (RDR2) 𐚁

One misstep in a mission led him into what could only be described as a more torturous cycle of love and abuse than he has ever felt before. Real smart of him to fall head over heels, quite literally, with someone hell-bent on locking him up. And maybe he'd be okay with that if you were the sheriff and he'd get to tease you before making some grandiose escape. But you had to be a bounty hunter—and an annoyingly good one at that.

You just don't give up. But neither does he.

He always manages to slip through your fingers, as your heart has evaded his. You'll get him this time or die trying.

He really could leave you in the dust with his trusty steed if he wanted, but it's cute how hard you try.

He pulls on the reins as he narrowly avoids another tree. Damn forests. Always growing those things.

He sneaks a look back at you so eagerly chasing after him, a deer after another one of its kind. How fortuitous.

He shouts at you, hoping to provoke your wrath, "Aye. What's the phrase? Seventh times the charm?"

He chuckles near lightheartedly, but you only hear a vicious cackle. With a single bullet from one of his twin Schofield revolvers, you feel your horse's legs buckle under you before you get a chance to respond. You swear this man can be in two places at once. By the time you have rolled off, not being able to spare a second to look for injuries, and stood up, Arthur is sitting on his high horse, quite literally, holding the revolver a couple feet from your head.

"Sorry, partner. Seems like you winnin' jus' wasn't in the cards."

You raise your hands from your sides, keeping your fists closed, your small backup slip joint knife in one.

"Seems like you're hiding somethin', darlin', or is this just another one of your tricks?"

You realize you haven't responded to him at all, almost frozen. Damn it. Fuck it all. It's not time for your 'instincts' to kick in. You become disturbingly aware of the metallic copper taste overwhelming your taste buds.

"Come on now!" He gets off his horse, yours having limped off, not rideable in its condition anyhow.

"The big bad bounty hunter who has taken in some of Colm's men gets all shy when in my presence." He gets closer. He seemingly walks with ease, but you can see the tenseness of his muscles, a strange mix of conflicting emotions in his weary eyes.

"Seems you're easier than I thought," his chapped lips murmur into your ear, innuendo woven throughout his tone—unashamed, almost.

Your body goes into the motions before your mind has time to make a calculated decision. You open your slipjoint knife to slit his jugular. A dead bounty is better than a dead bounty hunter. His hand wraps around your wrist, twisting it, causing you to drop the knife. You fall to your knees in pain as his grip tightens, no joy in his eyes from harming you.

"A-Ah, hah... fuck me," you breathily moan out, the adrenaline that's pumping into your veins becoming feckless.

You don't know how willing I am to take you up on that offer.

Arthur shoves you onto the dewy ground. Your knees buckle beneath you as your chest makes itself well acquainted with the dirt. He straddles your hips, the familiar sound of rope moving in his… his rugged hands.

The world threatens to turn black on you, but you stay conscious out of spite.

"You'll rot in hell, Arthur Morgan. Arrested or not," you spit out through gritted teeth, your blood seeping into the earth and the collar of your clothes.

Your body sits somewhere between alert and comatose, trying to find a split moment to make your escape before hogtied.

He chuckles.

"You ain't the first person to tell me that. You are the most attractive," he gruffly huffs out.

His thighs squeeze your sides tighter as he roughly ties your wrists and knots them together. He lingers for a moment, admiring you in this position. But he is a respectable man, well, somewhat respectable. So he keeps an 'appropriate,' appropriate for an outlaw grip, on you as he binds your ankles.

"If I was a worse man, I'd kill you." If I was a better man, I'd let you go.

He makes it a point to show the difference in strength as he connects the bindings of your hands and ankles together. His hands wander to various limbs, holding them down as you begin to struggle, frustrated by how long he's taking. How embarrassing this is.

"Kill me or let me go! You won't do it, though, will you? Inside of that twisted, fucked-up mind of yours, you like me. Maybe I remind you of the innocent souls you've tortured, you sick—"

Your voice is dampened by the sweaty bandana he stuffs in your mouth and ties around the back of your head. You still try to shout, albeit quite muffled, and you're getting light-headed again.

Arthur wants to say, 'God, you look good this way. The things you do to a poor man like me.' But refrains. 'I really am too much of a sick, ugly fuck to expect love from you.'

"You talk too much, dear. This ole' trick should shut you up for a while."

He hoists you up onto his horse, securing you to it. In a last-ditch effort, you try to use the leverage of the horse to nudge the cloth out of your mouth. You get it a little ways out and cause one more uproarious ruckus with your mouth.

"Or I could take your tongue, but I suspect you like it."

You can tell by his tone that he isn't joking. You stop and quiet yourself. You almost want to curl up into yourself, but don't.

"Good job, darling. Seems you're finally learning how to listen."

He talks to you sweeter than his horse. A shiver runs down your spine as your cheeks heat up, all involuntary, of course. As if it couldn't get any worse, he pats the top of your head, rubbing it as if you needed to be soothed like an animal in distress.

"We'll work on it. Together."

He mounts his filly, instructing her to start galloping. You don't know how long this ride will be or if you'll survive, although you suspect you will—and you'll have to play house or give in to whatever fucked-up fantasies are going on in that mind of his. You're too much of everything at this point. So you lie defeated, hogtied like some common criminal, on the back of the horse that belongs to one of the West's most notorious outlaws.

"I’m a poor, lonesome, cowboy." "Poor, lonesome, cowboy." "Poor, lonesome, cowboy." "Taking my darling back to camp."

[cosmerelists]

How Kaladin Would Flirt With Other Cosmere Characters

As requested by @cam-ulu29 :)

Hot off the back of my post about other characters flirting with Kaladin, cam-ulu29 asked if I could also write about Kaladin being the big flirt with other characters. So let's just say that Kaladin had the ability & the desire to flirt...how might he do so?

1. Lyn

Kaladin: I'm glad that there are women Windrunners now. Lyn: Man, me too! Kaladin: And specifically I am glad that you. A woman. And a Windrunner. Are here. Lyn: Awww, thanks! Kaladin (visibly sweating): Yes you. As a woman. Who is a Windrunner. And is here. Lyn: Are you...are you having a stroke right now?

2. Renarin

Kaladin: Hey, Renarin...back when you first joined Bridge 4, did you have a crush on me? Renarin: ! Renarin: W-Was it obvious? Kaladin: N-No, not really! Syl told me. Later. That she thought you did. Renarin: Oh... Kaladin: ... Kaladin: Any chance you still do?

3. Leswhi

Kaladin: Hey, uh, Leshwi? I was wondering if you would be free for an honorable duel, maybe Tuesday night? Leshwi: Certainly. I will assemble the shanay-im. Kaladin: Oh, well, I was actually thinking of an honorable duel with just you and me, you know? Syl: And me! Kaladin: And also Syl. Leswhi: ... Leshwi: Tuesday you said? It's a date.

4. Rlain

Kaladin: Ugh, all these women keep coming to the clinic to flirt with me. Kaladin: I can't get any work done! Kaladin: I bet if they knew I was in a relationship already, they'd stop. Kaladin: Hey Rlain...do you want to hold hands? Rlain: ...Are you asking me to pretend to be your boyfriend? Kaladin: Pretend?

5. Laral

Kaladin: Crazy how we're both single now. Laral: ... Laral: You mean because you got dumped and my husband DIED? Kaladin: Uh... Laral: ... Kaladin: So...not the right moment to see if you want to get a drink and catch up? Laral: NOPE

6. Adolin

Kaladin: I think horses are mean and scary. Adolin: That's just 'cause you haven't been around them enough! I swear! They're cool and friendly! Kaladin (continuing as if Adolin said nothing): But I would accept being around horses. Lots of mean horses. Kaladin: If it meant. Kaladin: Being around you. Adolin: ...? Kaladin: ... Adolin: ... Adolin: Oh! Adolin: Nice.

7. Shallan

Kaladin: [sighing dramatically] Shallan: What's wrong? Kaladin: I want to flirt with someone, but she's much wittier than I am, so I don't know how to even start. Shallan: Oooh, that's exciting! Can I give you advice? Kaladin: I would LOVE advice. Shallan: Well, it depends on whether you can match her wit, or whether you think she's entirely too witty for that. Kaladin: I think I could. Sometimes. Probably not while also flirting, though. Shallan: Sure, sure. Well, you can always just enjoy her wit and let her enjoy how smart she is. Kaladin: Yeah? You think making her feel smart is a good tactic? Shallan: Well, it certainly can't hurt! Kaladin: [significant look] Shallan: ... Shallan: Oh! Shallan: Nice.

8. Moash:

Kaladin: You know...I bet I could swallow a WAY bigger sphere than you could... Moash: MY BED IS UPSTAIRS LET'S GO RIGHT NOW

9. Szeth

Kaladin: You know...I've been thinking that maybe this trip is a chance to find what I really need. Szeth: I feel the same way. Kaladin: You...you do? Szeth: I do. Nightblood: (Me too!) Kaladin: Well, good...because I think what I really need is... Kaladin: You... Szeth (simultaneously): Vengeance. Nightblood (simultaneously): The eradication of evil! Kaladin: ... Kaladin: I don't know what I expected.

10. Jasnah

Kaladin (talking to someone else): I mean...being partnered is fine, I guess, but the sex stuff I don't really get. Jasnah: ... [...] Kaladin (to someone else): Darkeyed Radiants is good and all but, I mean, we still have slavery. Anyone who really cared about social change would do somehing about that! Jasnah: ... [...] Kaladin: (to someone else): I like Wit, but storms can he be annoying sometimes. Small doses, you know? Jasnah: ... [...] Kaladin (talking to someone else): So then I convinced the ardents that locking up the insane in dark rooms was NOT a good thing--they're gonna change the treatment! Jasnah: ... Jasnah: Has Stormblessed always been so attractive?

[themuseofaphrodite]

can’t turn back now ✧ OB87

summary: ollie bearman may be the most popular boy in his year, but even he has trouble with asking his crush out on a date. 

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

word count: 1.1k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Only three more days remained until the winter formal, and Ollie Bearman still hadn’t asked his crush out. It was so embarrassing, how his throat dried up and his hands became extra clammy whenever he was around you. He’d tried at least seven times, but it was like a spell was cast every time he attempted to bring up the conversation. You were so beautiful, with cinnamon ringlets and bright green eyes, and a laugh that sounded like twinkling bells. It wasn’t just your beauty that made him dumbstruck; you were super smart and funny too. On top of that, you never hung on to him or made him feel as if he was being used for a leg up in the social pyramid of school. You were special, and he wanted you to know that.

How would he do that, though?

He didn’t want to be too sappy, because you’d told him before that grand romantic gestures repulsed you. “It’s too similar to a romcom. Cute, but it should stay on a telly screen.” That crossed out every idea he had so far: a big bouquet of flowers sent to your dorm, writing a puzzle in the school newspaper for you to solve…

“Hey, Ollie!” you called out, jarring him out of his thoughts. You jogged up to him with a big smile plastered on your face as you asked, “Are you ready for this weekend?”

Ollie blushed. “Yeah, kind of. All my friends have dates, so I’ll probably be seventh-wheeling if things don’t change soon.”

“Aw, Ol,” you mock-pouted. “Poor you, most popular boy in year twelve. And you can’t find a girl to ask out? I think I know at least ten who’d gladly accept your offer.”

The only girl I want to ask out is you, but I can’t fucking talk when I’m around you, he thought frustratedly. “Yeah, I have someone in mind. Just, um, waiting for the right moment.” He tilted his head to look down at you, a shy smile dancing on his lips. “What’s up, though, Y/N?”

“Oh, um, I was wondering if you knew whether we had an exam in literature today. Penny keeps telling me we are, but I think she’s tricking me.” Your best friend Penny loved making you panic over exams, since she knew how seriously you took them. This time, she’d roped all your other friends into her prank, so you weren’t sure if you should take her for her word or not. “Do you have any idea if she’s right? Or did she get to you too?”

Ollie shook his head. “No, I don’t think we do. Professor Gilliam would have told us for sure.” “Yeah, on that damn cursed blackboard,” you responded, nodding your head in agreement. “Fucking Penny keeps lying to me. I’m so annoyed.” “Sorry, Y/N,” Ollie said apologetically, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. He curled his hands into fists, preparing himself for what he would do next. “Anyways, I had a question of my own to ask you. Um…”

You looked up at him, subconsciously leaning forward like Ollie was about to tell you a secret. “Don’t tell me you stole Gilliam’s planner and you want my help to hide it.”

Ollie laughed, but it sounded shrill and fake to his ears. “No, definitely not. Um, it’s something else.” He worried at his lower lip, thinking how best to phrase this. “The winter formal is coming up, and I was wondering…” 

You blinked up at him, still confused. 

This is the point of no return, Ollie mused internally. Please God, don’t let me fuck this up.

“I was wondering if you would do me the honors of being my date?” he finally spat out, the words clipped and almost indecipherable.

Your face froze in shock, jaw dropping a moment later as your brain processed what Ollie had said. “You…You want me to be your date?” you stammered out.

Ollie nodded, panic starting to well up in his gut, his fight-or-flight response activating the longer you didn’t say yes. He steeled himself, willing himself not to bolt or melt into a puddle of mush on the pathway where you stood. “Yeah. If you want. If you already have a date, I understand. It’s totally OK, Y/N, if you don’t want to go with me.”

“Oh…Ol…” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, clasping your hands behind your back. “Of course I’d like to be your date. I was wondering when you’d grow the balls to ask me out.”

A surge of relief flooded through Ollie and he let out a long sigh. “Thank God. I was worried I’d have to change my name and leave the country, that’s how mortified I’d be.”

“You think I’d really say no to you?” You questioned him, crinkling your nose. “That would be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and I once cut my own bangs.”

Ollie rubbed the back of his neck, still in shock. “Your bangs are beautiful, Y/N.”

“Yeah, now that I let a professional cut them,” you shot back, giggling. “Not all of us can have perfectly styled hair all the time, Bearman.”

“I might have perfectly styled hair, but you’re fully perfect in my eyes, L/N,” Ollie retorted, his chin jutting out defiantly. “I didn’t ask out those other girls because I knew I wanted to ask you.”

You put your hands on your hips, beaming like a beautiful ray of sunshine. “Yet it took you almost a fortnight to do so. Imagine.”

“You try asking your crush out to a dance, and then you’ll see.”

“I almost had to because you were such a scaredy cat!” you chortled, nudging Ollie playfully on the shoulder. “But it worked out. Guess I’m stuck with you for a while now, hm?”

Ollie elbowed you back. “Hey, Y/N! I’m not that much of a hassle. You know you adore me.”

“Sure, Bearman. Whatever lets you sleep easy at night,” you teased lightheartedly.

“Don’t even deny it. Why else would you stick by me? For my social status? You and I both know you don’t care about that. So, it has to be my charm and good looks.”

“Someone has an ego,” you chaffed. “But you’re not wrong. It’s something about that dopey face that really drew me in.” Thank you, God, for giving me the courage to ask this girl out and the charm to be approved by her, Ollie thought to himself, suppressing a smile as he listened to you talk.

He absolutely could not wait for Saturday to arrive.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[lees-chaotic-brain]

careless whisper by george michael , gojo , angst

WC: 2k

CW: cheating, angst, hurt/no comfort, reader has female pronouns (referred to as madam and birthday girl), alcohol consumption (all characters are of age), swearing

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to the event taglist): @chosolovers @ssetsuka @ichikanu

listen to this while reading

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For one night, one night alone you were going to put all of your suspicions and past hurt aside and enjoy the party. After all, it was your birthday so the night was supposed to be all about you.

Shooting a smile at your boyfriend across the room you can't help but feel your stomach flutter as he shoots you a wink and begins making his way through the crowd towards you. Stopping in front of you he sweeps forward in an exaggerated bow, extending his arm.

“Madam Birthday Girl, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

Laughing at his antics, you relax, reassured by his usual behavior. Of course everything was normal between the two of you. You were just being paranoid. Placing your hand in his, you allowed him to escort you onto the dance floor.

I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor

Wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying slowly to the music you rested your face against his chest and enjoyed the peace of the moment. Or, at least you tried to.

As soon as your nose brushed his blue button up your senses were invaded with some sort of expensive oriental perfume, meant to be subtle with rose and jasmine. But judging from the way your nose burned, whoever had been wearing it must have been wearing a whole bottle for the residual left on his clothes to be so strong. Nothing like the one or two spritzes of understated wildflower perfumes you preferred. 

Fighting the urge to gag at the overpowering scent, you looked up over his shoulder in an attempt to get some fresh air. Instead you were confronted by lipstick stains on the edge of his collar. Bright pink lipstick stains, which couldn’t possibly be yours, because you would never wear a color that garish. 

Suddenly you no longer felt like dancing, and as the song’s outro played you decided to give him one more chance to explain himself after the party. If he couldn’t do that, then the two of you were done. Looking up into his eyes you gave him a forced smile, a small part of you screaming that this was going to be the last time the two of you danced like this.

As the music dies, something in your eyes

Calls to mind a silver screen

And all its sad good-byes

After the song ended Gojo watched you walk away, unsettled by the finality in your eyes. Had you figured it out? Did you know where he had been before the party? Who was he kidding of course you had. As much as the two of you had danced around the obvious truth for months he knew that you knew. He had fallen in love with your quick wits and intelligence. There was no way you hadn’t put two and two together.

But despite forgotten dates, the nights he came home late or not at all, the perfume that wasn’t yours clinging to his skin, he dared to hope that you would just keep pretending not to know. That things could stay the way they were. If only you weren’t so smart.

Though it's easy to pretend

I know you're not a fool

Walking across the room you mingled with the guests, accepting birthday wishes and engaging in small talk. Heading over to the bar, you got a refill on your drink and leaned against the bar sipping it. You heaved a sigh, wishing the entire thing was over and that you could just go home. A large warm hand placed on your shoulder interrupted your stewing, causing you to turn around.

“Oh! Geto! Hi! I wasn’t expecting you to come. How are you?” You were surprised to see none other than your boyfriend’s best friend, Geto Suguru. The large man chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly at your surprise.

“Sorry, I was in the area and decided to drop by. I’m doing okay, but actually I’m here to ask you that. I’m really sorry about what Satoru did. It was fucked up. How are you doing with the breakup? I may be his best friend but just know that I’m always here for you-”

“Wait, what? The breakup?” You were confused. You hadn’t even told your best friends about your plans to confront Satoru, seeing as you had only made up your mind a few minutes ago.  “What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean?’ We had a conversation and Satoru promised me-” Realization lit up in his dark eyes. “He didn’t do it, did he? Oh that son of a-” He stops, looking at you guiltily.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. You should hear it from him. I gotta go now.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you with a sinking feeling in your gut.

From across the room, Gojo watched his friend leave, knowing that whatever had just happened between the two of you could not not have been good. Not wanting to obsess over what Suguru could have said, he turned away and jumped into a conversation. Whatever was said had been said already. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

Time can never mend

The careless whispers of a good friend

If he had watched a few seconds longer he would have seen you shake yourself then chase after his friend, looking for answers. Darting around guests and avoiding dancing couples you caught up to Geto just outside of the building.

“Wait!” You yelled, hurrying to catch up with him. “You can’t just leave like that! I need to know what you mean.”

Not turning, Geto shook his head. “Trust me on this one. You don’t want to know. Let him tell you. I’ll make sure he does, but you shouldn’t hear this from me.”

“I’m pretty sure I already know.” The words fly out of your mouth before you could stop them. “He’s cheating on me, right? Listen, I need to know. I’m probably going to break up with him tonight. So it doesn’t matter anyways. Just tell me.”

Rubbing his face with one hand he sighed and chuckled without humor. “Of course you know. Jesus this whole situation is so fucked up.” He turned around and looked at you properly.

“Let’s go find somewhere to sit. This might take a little while.”

To the heart and mind

Ignorance is kind

Geto had left a couple of minutes ago, leaving you sitting on a sidewalk bench organizing your thoughts. Fighting the urge to cry, you were unsure why the pain in your chest was so sharp. You had been almost positive, he was cheating on you, so why did it hurt so bad to have your suspicions confirmed? It wasn’t like the knowledge was anything new to you.

Maybe it was because you now knew that the woman was the daughter of a wealthy family close to the Gojos. Maybe it was because you knew that it had been going on for months, and when Geto found out he had made Satoru promise to either end things with the other girl or break up with you. Maybe it was knowing that after making that promise Geto had found him with the other woman again, leading him to assume Satoru had broken up with you. 

Whatever it was, it fucking hurt. Letting out a small sob, you clutched your chest feeling your heart break. Unable to stop the tears from spilling over your waterline you opened your phone and texted him that you knew before you could back out.

But as you wiped your face and headed back to the party because you would be damned if you let him ruin your night, a small part of you wished you hadn’t discovered the truth.

There's no comfort in the truth

Pain is all you'll find

After receiving your text, Satoru watched the entrance intensely, waiting for you to return. The second you step through the door he locks eyes with you, gesturing towards the outside, mouthing that he wanted to talk.

Instead of turning around and walking back outside so the two of you could talk like he had expected, you just strolled into the party and joined a group of your friends. Whipping out his phone, he tried to send you a text, only to discover that he had been blocked.

Then the panic set in as he started trying to make his way towards you. But at that moment a popular song came on over the speakers, and the crowd became rowdy, making it impossible for him to get to you. It was like the crowd was against him, pushing him back towards the edge of the dance floor instead of across it to where you were.

Didn’t they understand that he needed to get to you? That he need to explain himself? He wishes the crowd would just disappear. That it was just you and him, with nothing else in the way.

Tonight the music seems so loud

I wish that we could lose this crowd

As he continues to scan the crowd for you, he finally catches sight of you dancing with your friends, laughing and singing along to the song. Shouting your name, he waves frantically, but the venom in your eyes when they meet his make his voice die out. 

Maybe it was for the better that the two of you didn’t talk right then. You didn’t seem like you were in a place where you would be able to talk reasonably. Turning, he decided to head out for the night and give you the space you so clearly needed. He would just talk to you tomorrow.

Maybe it's better this way

We'd hurt each other with the things we'd want to say

The next day when he went to your place to talk, Satoru was greeted by a box of all of his things sitting outside of your apartment and a post-it note declaring that the two of you were over. And despite all of his screaming and pleading and banging on the door, you didn’t come out that day. Or the next. Or the one after that.

Now it’s been months, and he’s given up on winning you back. It’s clear you have no interest in hearing him out. And in those three months he had come to realize just how much you had meant to him. You were his better half, the one he truly loved. The other woman he had cheated on you with couldn’t hold a candle to you. 

If only he hadn’t been such an idiot. Maybe if he hadn’t been so conceited and cocky he would have seen the value in what the two of you shared and the two of you would still be together. Maybe the two of you would have spent the rest of your lives in happiness together. But that’s not what happened, and now he was all alone. 

We could have lived this dance forever

But now, who's gonna dance with me?

Years had passed, and he was still alone. At first he had tried dating to get over you, but after realizing that the first girl had a similar smile to you, the second had the same shade eyes as you, the third your hair color, he stopped. 

It didn’t matter how hard he subconsciously tried to find girls to replace you. None of them were ever going to be you. And the guilt he harbored over the way he treated you would follow him into the grave. He lost the best thing that ever happened to him. There was no recovering from that.

And I'm never gonna dance again

Guilty feet have got no rhythm

Note: to the people who asked to be tagged on the poll, i haven't added you to my event taglist yet, it was just for this fiic dw. however if you would like to be added, let me know!!

[thoughtsandmusingsandideas]

I had a thought for a creator but they didn't believe they were the creator and could influence others into believing it too.

The two characters are Sara kujou and yae miko

@mastadon64 here you go!

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Godboss - Kujou Sara and Yae Miko

Kujou Sara

Cw: Sexual innuendos

-Honestly, waking up in Teyvat, you had a hard time convincing yourself you weren’t dreaming

-(It took you tumbling down a hill and slamming into a particularly sharp rock to realize it was not a dream. Also, ow)

-(You ignored the way your blood was golden. You were pretty sure you’d never seen the Genshin characters bleed anyways. It was probably just censoring. Totally.)

-Some way or another, you ended up in Inazuma

-Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as you were expecting

-Most of the creatures were pretty chill, and as long as you avoided the people, you didn’t get in much trouble

-And then you kicked a Tenryou commission officer in the face and got arrested

-You know, jail wasn’t as bad as you expected either!

-Your cellmates weren’t too bad either- one of them asked you if you were god, which was weird, because you didn’t look anything like the Shogun, but you gave him a stick of dango and he shut up

-(You might not have been a god, but the fact that you managed to keep your inventory from the game was the closest thing to a divine blessing that you could imagine. Who needs a gnosis when you have your own pocket dimension?)

-It’s about half an hour before you’re taken from your cell for questioning

-You walk into a small interrogation room, shock igniting in your chest as you spot Kujou Sara

-Wasn’t she important?

-Was kicking that guy in the face really such a grave offense?

-“Are you the Creator God?” She asks, deathly serious

-Why did people keep asking you this???

-You’re pretty sure you don’t look too godly, garbed in stolen clothes that you’re ninety percent sure you put on wrong, a fading bite mark on your arm from when you tried to pet a rifthound, leaves in your hair. Honestly, you looked pretty disheveled, and…

-“Is that your way of saying you think I’m hot? Like… godly or whatever?”

-Considering the way the Tengu’s face turns a vibrant red, you’re either very right, or very wrong

-It’d be funnier if you were right though, so you press on

-“I mean, not that I’m not into it, but I’m feeling kinda iffy about the power dynamic here- prisoner and cop is a cute trope and all, but not all that smart in real life, I mean I get it if it’s a kink or whatever, I know handcuffs are attractive, but as of right now it’s immoral-”

-“Shut up. Please.” Sara mumbled, covering her red face with her hand. Her hair has more volume than usual, tiny sparks of static dancing between the strands

-“… I mean after I get out of prison I’d totally be down to go on a date, and if you feed me well enough I might even let you handcuff me.” You add.

-The silence in the room is heavy

-“Get out.”

-“Yes ma’am. Hm. No. Yes Mommy? Yes Master-“

-You’re cut off by an electrically charged arrow striking the wall beside your head.

-“Out.”

-“Okay!”

-You’re released from prison three days later, now with a whole gaggle of new friends from criminals

-(You ignored the fact that some of them made really important sounding speeches swearing their fealty to you. Also the small shrine they were building in your honor. If you didn’t acknowledge it, it didn’t exist)

-You were surprised that as soon as you left, you were met with a glaring Kujou Sara, who takes your hand in her own

-“Am I being arrested again?”

-“… I’m going to take you on a date. And then I’m going to handcuff you.”

-“Yes Mommy!”

-“I Will Shoot You Again.”

Yae Miko

-You had to admit, stumbling upon a small shrine that seemed to be dedicated to your doppelgänger was creepy

-But you had also just been Isekaied to video game land, so you were pretty adaptable at the moment.

-Or high on adrenaline.

-You pick up one of the Sunsiettas from the shrine, biting down and relaxing, until-

-“Your excellency?!” A voice squeaks, and looking up you see a very frazzled shrine maiden staring at you.

-“Uh. No?” You say, swallowing the Sunsietta.

-The shrine maiden starts sobbing. “Your excellency!”

-“Oh- no- I’m- uh- I’m like you? You know? I’m uh… a messiah? Priest? Prophet? Whatever gets you to stop crying?” You awkwardly pat her head.

-“You- you’re the Creators chosen one?” She blubbers.

-“Uh. Yeah. Totally. Stop crying.”

-“CHOSEN ONE!” And she’s crying again

-After a lot of crying, you’re led to the Grand Narukami shrine, where you’re introduced to the head shrine maiden as the chosen one

-“… Are you sure she’s not just the creator?”

-“You flatter me. I’m just gods favoritist and most specialist little princess.”

-The Kitsune likes this. Perhaps too much, but we’ll let her have her fun

-And thus, the war to get you to admit that you’re the Creator begins, hidden under the guise of her introducing you to chosen one duties

-She takes you on a pilgrimage all across Inazuma first, going to the most dangerous places possible just to put you in danger and save you at the last second, disappointed that you never use godly powers to save (read: reveal) yourself

-She meditates with you, and paints obscure markings on your face when you fall asleep, which you have to pass off as messages from the creator

-She takes you to meet the Shogun, but after leaving you alone for five minutes, returns to you teaching her poker and robbing her blind. You cited divine luck and she pretended she didn’t notice the cards stuffed inside your sleeve

-It ends pretty anticlimactically, actually

-She’s introducing you to the local foxes, when you trip over a rock and face plant into the floor

-And get a nose bleed

-Miko can’t help but doubling over in laughter at the sight of your pout as golden blood drips down your face

-“And how are you explaining this one, Oh revered Chosen One?”

-“Genetic condition.”

-The laughter doubles

[arilevenatz]

Whispers of Atravelle | 𝟑

Chapter word count: 6.2k

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Wanna be tagged? Comment under the series Masterlist!!

YN, still panicking internally, quickly put on her best "humble and innocent" act.

"Well, Your Highness, I never had the honor of meeting the royal family before, so I am quite unaware of the proper decorum," she said, trying to sound all old-timey. But then, because she was still YN, she added, "I mean, my bad—guess I missed the ‘how to act around princes’ lesson growing up."

The prince tilted his head, amusement flickering in his sharp eyes. "Is that so?" he mused. "That is rather peculiar. From what I have heard, your father is a highly respected man. Some even say your family is treated akin to royalty in your town."

YN tried not to choke. Was this man calling her out? She needed to play it smart. "Ah… well, respected, yes. But royalty? Nah—I mean, not quite, Your Highness." She coughed, correcting herself. "I am but a simple daughter of a priest, no more, no less."

The prince studied her for a long moment, that same tiny smirk still playing on his lips. "Is that so?"

YN did not like the way he said that. Not one bit.

YN tensed as the prince rose to his feet. He took another slow glance around the lavish room before stepping closer to her.

Too close.

She instinctively took a step back, her mind running wild. Was he about to scold her? Punish her? Did she mess up by not groveling properly? Her brain was about to short-circuit when he suddenly lifted his hand—

She flinched.

But instead of the slap she braced for, she felt nothing but air. Slowly, she cracked one eye open.

The prince—no, Hongjoong—stood before her, one brow raised, his hand casually extended toward her. "I was merely introducing myself," he said, voice laced with amusement. "Hongjoong."

YN blinked. Then blinked again. "Oh."

He tilted his head, smirk widening. "Did you think I was going to strike you?"

She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. "No," she lied.

He chuckled. "You flinched."

"Nah, that was just—uh, a reflex. Yeah."

Hongjoong hummed, unconvinced. "A rather interesting reflex." He still hadn't dropped his hand.

Feeling like a socially inept fool, YN quickly grasped it, shaking it once before letting go. His grip was firm but not forceful, the kind of handshake that screamed confidence but also a little mischief.

"So, YN," he said, crossing his arms. "Tell me—how does a priest’s daughter end up calming a beast that not even our best tamers could handle?"

YN groaned internally. She knew this was coming.

YN felt her throat go dry. "I—I don't know," she stammered, gripping the fabric of her dress.

Hongjoong didn’t look convinced. He took a step closer, his sharp eyes locking onto hers, unreadable yet intense. "You must know," he pressed, tilting his head slightly. "No one else has ever done what you did. You are the only one. How can you not know?"

She swallowed hard. The weight of his words, his presence—it was too much.

"I swear, I don't," she whispered, forcing herself to hold eye contact despite the anxiety creeping up her spine.

Hongjoong didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he studied her, his sharp gaze scanning her face as if searching for a lie. YN felt like a mouse cornered by a particularly intelligent cat. He was important—too important. He could do anything to her if he wanted. And she? She was just a girl who happened to touch a monster and not die.

"I see," he finally said, voice softer, but his gaze still calculating.

YN exhaled, shoulders tense. Was that it? Was he done interrogating her?

Then he smirked. "You're a terrible liar, by the way."

YN wanted to throw herself out the window.

YN felt herself getting frustrated. "I’m not lying," she insisted, her voice a mix of desperation and exasperation. "I don’t know what I did, I don’t know why it happened, and I don’t know what you expect me to say!"

Hongjoong’s smirk only deepened, like he found her struggle amusing. "Mhm," he hummed, clearly not believing a single word she said.

YN groaned. "Dude, I—" She caught herself. Right. Priest’s daughter. Not supposed to talk like that. She quickly corrected, "I mean… my lord, I truly do not know."

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. "That was a bit of a strange slip," he mused.

She clenched her fists, barely holding back the urge to tell him to mind his own business. This man—this prince—was not just intimidating. He was annoying.

After a moment, he chuckled. "You’re interesting," he admitted, turning toward the door. "I can see why they’re so curious about you."

YN didn’t like how that sounded. "Who’s they?" she asked cautiously.

He didn’t answer. Instead, as he reached the door, he glanced back at her. "We’ll meet again, priestess."

YN scowled. "I’m not a priestess."

Hongjoong shrugged. “I believe you" he said, almost mockingly, before stepping out of the room.

The door shut behind him, leaving YN alone in her luxurious prison. She let out a long, frustrated sigh before dramatically flopping onto the absurdly soft bed.

"Bro, what the fuck is happening," she muttered into the sheets.

YN wanted to eat in her room, away from prying eyes and annoying questions. The palace was overwhelming enough—she didn’t need to add awkward dinner conversations to the mix. But today, something was different.

A knock on her door startled her. Before she could respond, the door creaked open, and standing there—smug as ever—was none other than Prince Hongjoong himself.

Her stomach dropped. "Uhh… what?"

Hongjoong leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "You’ve been summoned.”

She blinked. "Summoned?"

He nodded. "Dinner.”

“.... I'd prefer eating alone" she said, waving him off.

"Not today," Hongjoong said, stepping inside. "You’re eating with us."

YN immediately narrowed her eyes. "Us?"

"The royal family," he clarified, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

She nearly choked on air. "What?"

"You heard me."

She stared at him, waiting for him to laugh and say he was joking. But he just stood there, looking at her like this is happening whether you like it or not.

She shook her head. "Nope. No thanks. I’ll pass."

"You don’t have a choice."

YN groaned, dragging her hands down her face. "Bro, I just wanted to eat in peace."

Hongjoong chuckled. "And I just wanted a quiet night, but here we are."

She glared at him. "Oh, wow, must be so hard being a prince."

"It is, actually," he shot back, giving her a knowing look. "Which is why I’d prefer not to waste more time arguing. Come on."

YN sighed, feeling utterly betrayed by the universe. "This is some bullshit," she muttered as she reluctantly followed him out of the room.

She had been mentally preparing herself to sit through an awkward dinner, probably filled with polite nods and silent chewing. What she hadn’t prepared for was walking into a room full of literal gods.

The dining hall was grand, but YN barely processed the details because her brain short-circuited at the sight before her. Seated at the long table were seven other men—each one of them looking like they had been sculpted by the gods themselves.

She froze in the doorway.

Holy shit.

Her eyes widened as she took them all in. Each one had a distinct presence—some exuded power, others had a more relaxed air, but all of them were fine as hell. Was this a dinner or a model lineup?

She side-eyed Hongjoong. Wait… he fits in too.

Her whole life, she had assumed people in ancient times were supposed to be a little crusty—bad skincare, questionable hygiene. But no, apparently, everyone in this era had just decided to be ethereal beings.

Is it in the water? The food? The genetics?

Hongjoong, clearly amused by her reaction, leaned in. "You gonna stand there gawking all night, Priestess?"

That snapped her out of it.

She cleared her throat, quickly composing herself. "Nah, I’m good."

But as she stepped inside, she couldn’t stop thinking:

What kind of unfair world did I wake up in where every guy looks like he walked out of a fantasy novel?

Hongjoong walked ahead like he owned the place—well, he kinda did—and took his seat at the head of the table, his movements casual yet commanding. Meanwhile, YN stood there awkwardly, suddenly feeling like she had walked into the wrong classroom on the first day of school.

She shifted uncomfortably, hyper-aware of the weight of eight pairs of eyes on her. The men at the table didn’t look unwelcoming, but they also didn’t look particularly welcoming either. It was as if they were assessing her, trying to figure her out.

Hongjoong, clearly entertained, raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you going to sit, or are you planning to stand there all night?"

She swallowed hard, her voice a little unsteady. "Uh… where should I sit?"

He tilted his head slightly before nodding toward an empty chair.

YN exhaled and moved to the seat, trying to keep her steps as normal as possible. She had never felt this out of place in her entire life. Sitting down, she kept her posture straight, hands neatly folded in her lap as if that would somehow make her blend in better.

Spoiler: it didn’t.

She was the sorest thumb in history.

The air was thick with something unspoken, tension? Curiosity? Suspicion? All of the above? The guys weren’t staring outright, but she felt their eyes on her.

Was it because of what happened in the arena? Was it because she wasn’t dressed like them? Or was it just because she was an outsider?

Either way, YN had never felt smaller at a dinner table.

She glanced at Hongjoong, who, to her annoyance, looked perfectly at ease. Meanwhile, she was out here trying to remember how to breathe normally.

She cleared her throat. Okay. Just act natural.

…Whatever natural even meant in this situation.

For a few moments, there was only the sound of plates being set, the quiet clinking of silverware, and the occasional low murmur of conversation between the men. YN kept her eyes on the table, trying not to make it painfully obvious that she was staring at literal gods incarnate.

But then, one of them spoke.

"You’re awfully quiet for someone who managed to calm that thing earlier."

Her eyes flicked up to see the guy across from her, leaning forward slightly with his elbows on the table. He had sharp eyes and an even sharper smirk, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead.

"Who—me?" she asked dumbly, pointing at herself.

He chuckled. "Yeah, you. Who else?"

Hongjoong, who had been sipping his drink, set it down with a sigh. "San, must you always be so blunt?"

San. Alright, noted.

Another one, seated beside San, let out a laugh. "He’s not wrong, though. You were—what’s the word—fascinating to watch."

He had lighter hair, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and a way of speaking that made it sound like he was constantly amused by everything around him.

"Wooyoung, let’s not overwhelm her just yet," came a calm voice.

The guy who spoke was composed, elegant even, with an aura that felt more mature. He didn’t have the teasing smirk of the others, but there was still something unreadable in his gaze as he looked at her.

Seonghwa.

She had to mentally pin their names down before she got lost in the sea of hotness sitting at this table.

"Overwhelm me? No, no, I’m perfectly chill," YN finally found her voice, waving her hands.

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

"…Chill?"

Seonghwa blinked, and the rest of them looked at her like she had just recited an ancient curse.

Oh. Right.

She forgot she had to blend in.

"Ahem," she cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. "I mean… I am quite alright."

San squinted at her like he knew she was trying too hard, but before he could say anything, another voice entered the conversation.

"You should introduce yourselves properly."

The speaker had a quieter presence than the others, but something about him made YN instinctively straighten up. He was observing her closely, but not in a way that felt rude—just… analytical.

Hongjoong nodded at him. "Good point, Yeosang.”

The introductions started off simple enough.

"San," the sharp-eyed guy across from her said, offering no further explanation. His smirk was just as sharp as his gaze.

"Wooyoung," the mischievous-looking one added, tilting his head with a grin. "Don’t look so tense. We don’t bite—well, most of us don’t."

Before she could react to that, another voice cut in. "Seonghwa." He had an air of elegance, his tone calm but firm.

"Yunho," the tallest one introduced himself with an easy smile. He seemed like one of the friendlier ones, which made her feel a little less like she was being interrogated.

"Mingi," the giant beside him said simply. His voice was deep but not as intimidating as she expected.

"Yeosang," came the smooth, composed voice of the one who had been analyzing her since she arrived.

"Jongho," the last one stated, his expression unreadable. He was definitely one of the more serious ones.

YN blinked, processing all the names. They had just casually introduced themselves like normal people. But something still felt off.

Hongjoong, who had been sitting quietly, finally spoke. "You seem confused."

YN scoffed. "Confused? No, no, I’m just—uh, you know, chillin’."

Seven pairs of eyes stared at her again.

She groaned, rubbing her temples. "Forget I said that. What I meant was—why am I here? And why are you guys so invested in me?"

Hongjoong exhaled dramatically, resting his chin on his hand. "I suppose there’s no point in dragging it out any longer."

She frowned. "Dragging what out?"

He leaned back slightly, scanning her face before dropping the bomb.

"We are the eight princes of Atravelle."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

YN’s brain straight-up lagged.

"…The what now?"

"The princes," Seonghwa repeated, watching for her reaction.

"You mean, like, royalty?" she asked dumbly.

San rolled his eyes. "What else would ‘princes’ mean?"

"I don’t know!" she threw her hands up. "Maybe I thought you guys were some kind of—I don’t know—knights? Warriors? A really attractive cult?"

Wooyoung snorted. "A cult?"

"Don’t act like it wasn’t plausible," she shot back, still trying to process everything.

"Wait, wait—" she held up a hand. "So you’re telling me that all of you—every single one—are royalty?"

"That is precisely what we are telling you," Yeosang confirmed.

She stared at them again.

"So you mean to tell me," she exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose, "not one, not two, but eight princes are sitting here in front of me?"

Jongho raised an eyebrow. "You seem troubled by that."

YN let out a slightly unhinged laugh. "Troubled? Oh, nooo, I’m totally fine. I’m just a humble priest’s daughter who got thrown into an arena, calmed a Titan, and is now casually dining with royalty."

She leaned back in her chair, eyes wide. "This is just my normal Tuesday."

Hongjoong smirked, clearly amused. "You are very strange."

She glared at him. "And you are withholding a lot of information."

His smirk didn’t waver. "Perhaps."

Then Jongho surprisingly started, "You do realize that what you did with that creature is impossible, right?" he asked, arms crossed.

Right.

That.

That was the question she knew was coming.

She had managed to calm a raging beast—no, not just any beast. A Titan.

And she had no idea how or why.

"I mean… I guess?" she tried, but that clearly wasn’t the answer they were looking for.

Mingi tilted his head. "You guess?"

Wooyoung leaned forward. "Come on, priestess, tell us your secret."

"I am not a priestess," she shot back instantly, but they ignored her.

Hongjoong was watching her now, elbows resting on the table, fingers interlocked. He hadn’t asked her outright yet, but his expression told her he was waiting.

She swallowed.

Alright.

Time to try and explain the unexplainable.

"I really don’t know how I did it," she started, gripping the edge of the table. "One second I was about to get crushed, and the next thing I knew, it just… calmed down.”

"Because of you?" Yeosang asked.

"I—maybe?" she ran a hand through her hair. "I think? Look, all I did was panic and—boom—friendly Titan."

There was another pause.

Then Wooyoung burst into laughter.

"Boom—friendly Titan?" he repeated, shaking his head.

San looked at him. "She talks weird."

"She talks different," Seonghwa corrected.

"Is that not the same thing?"

YN groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Kill me."

Hongjoong chuckled under his breath. "Not just yet, priestess."

She glared at him. "I do have a name, you know."

"Yes," he nodded, eyes glinting. "But priestess suits you."

YN wanted to throw something at his smug face.

Unfortunately, she was outnumbered, so she just exhaled and focused on not losing her mind.

Because one thing was clear—

These guys weren’t just curious.

They were invested.

And she had no idea what that meant for her.

It was Yeosang who finally broke the silence. “How do you think you did it?”

YN blinked at him. “Did… what?”

He tilted his head slightly, like he was studying her. “The taming. How did you manage to calm the beast?”

Oh. That.

She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “Honestly? I have no idea.” She shrugged. “It was coming at me full speed, and I kinda just… accepted my fate. Closed my eyes and braced for impact.”

A brief silence settled over the table.

Then—without a single word—the princes exchanged glances. Not just casual looks, either. This was silent communication. A full-on, detailed conversation just by flicking their eyes at each other.

Seonghwa finally spoke. “It’s alright. We have plenty of time to figure out how.”

YN blinked.

Wait. We have plenty of time?

Oh.

OH.

That was when it finally hit her.

They were not letting her go.

Girl, you’re doomed. This is it. This is your life now.

She forced a laugh. “Uh… what do you mean by that?”

Mingi, who had been mostly quiet, simply leaned back. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

Oh my god.

She quickly masked her panic, sitting up straighter. “I mean—I was supposed to take the animal and leave, right? So… since that’s, uh, not happening, what is happening?”

Hongjoong smirked, resting his chin on his hand. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Her eye twitched.

She was so going to fight him.

You pushed your chair back and stood up abruptly. "No. Nope. This is not acceptable," you declared, hands slamming on the table. "You cannot just keep information from me, especially when it's about me."

The room went silent.

It wasn’t the outburst that caught their attention—it was the fact that you were standing between Mingi and Yunho, both of whom were huge. Even with you standing and them still seated, they still towered over you. It was almost comical, like a tiny kitten hissing at two lions.

Wooyoung snorted, barely holding in his laugh. "This is hilarious."

Seonghwa shot him a warning glance, but even he looked faintly amused.

Hongjoong, however, just leaned back in his chair, watching you with an unreadable expression. "Are you sure you want to know?"

You crossed your arms. "Yes."

His lips curled into a smirk. A menacing one. "Then here it is, priestess. You’re staying here to tame all of the Titans present in Atravelle."

Silence.

You blinked. "I’m sorry, what?"

Yeosang sipped his tea like this was a casual breakfast conversation. "You heard him."

Your brain malfunctioned for a second.

"ALL of them?"

"Every single one," San confirmed, way too casually for your liking.

Your hands flew to your head. "Bro—what makes you think I can do that? I don’t even know what I did!"

Jongho, who had been quiet till now, finally spoke. "You’re the only one who’s ever managed it. That’s why we need you."

You exhaled, pacing slightly. "Okay, but see, here’s the thing—what if it was a one-time thing? What if that was just a fluke?"

Wooyoung grinned. "Guess we’ll find out, huh?"

You groaned.

You clenched your fists. "Okay, but what if I refuse?"

Hongjoong barely looked up from his plate. "You don’t have a say."

Your eye twitched. "Excuse me?"

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, San—spoke, his voice smooth yet firm. "Sit down, priestess."

And for some godforsaken reason, you did.

Maybe it was the way he said it—low, authoritative, like he knew you would obey. Or maybe it was the way his eyes bore into yours, a silent challenge you weren’t prepared to take. But whatever it was, your body moved before your brain could catch up. You were back in your chair before you even realized it.

Wooyoung, of course, was loving this. He grinned, resting his chin on his hand. "You look good listening to us. Now, eat."

Your eye twitched again.

You were going to lose your mind.

You sat there, silently eating, trying to process the absolute insanity of the situation. Meanwhile, they—the literal eight princes of Atravelle—were anything but silent.

Jokes were thrown across the table like it was a battlefield, and for a bunch of men who looked like they were sculpted by gods themselves, they were behaving like absolute losers.

"Mingi, stop hogging the bread, you giant—"

"I’m not hogging it, Yeosang, you just have tiny hands—"

"Tiny hands?! You—You absolute tree!"

"What? Not my fault you can’t reach across the table."

"I swear to the heavens, if you do not hand me the bread—"

Meanwhile, Jongho, sitting beside them, casually picked up an apple and crushed it with one hand, completely unbothered.

You nearly choked on your food.

On the other side of the table, Wooyoung and San were ganging up on Yunho, nudging him in the ribs as he groaned in frustration.

"I’m just saying," Wooyoung teased, leaning into Yunho’s space, "you have a habit of staring, man."

"I do not!" Yunho grumbled, shoving him away.

"You totally do," San agreed. "Like earlier? When she was dragged into the arena? Your mouth was literally open."

You blinked. Were they talking about you?

"I—!" Yunho spluttered, ears burning red. "That’s—! I was just shocked!"

"Mhm, sure," San smirked. "Shocked by what? Her eyes? Her hair?"

Wooyoung laughed. "He’s shocked by how pretty she is—"

"Eat your food before I throw you across the room," Yunho snapped.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong sat at the head of the table, watching the chaos unfold with an exasperated yet amused glint in his eyes.

And you? You were still stuck on the fact that you were currently surrounded by eight drop-dead gorgeous royal men who also happened to be absolute dumbasses.

Handsome losers.

Your life was a mess.

After the meal was done, you got up and casually—very casually—tried to make your way back to your room.

Only one slight problem.

This castle was huge.

Like, ridiculously huge. The kind of huge that made no sense. The hallways stretched forever, the turns were confusing, and every damn corridor looked exactly the same.

You weren’t about to embarrass yourself by asking someone for directions like a lost child. Nope. You would rather wander until you somehow miraculously stumbled upon your room.

So, you stood there, pretending you totally knew where you were going, hands on your hips, nodding at a random hallway like, yeah, this looks familiar.

You took a step forward, determined to fake it till you made it—

And then you felt it.

Breath.

Warm breath.

Right behind you.

Your entire soul left your body.

You spun around so fast you nearly collided with the person standing there.

And oh.

Oh, you were done for.

Because standing behind you was one of the princes.

And he was way too close.

It was Seonghwa.

And he was standing way too close.

Your breath hitched as you looked up at him. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and had the kind of presence that demanded attention without him even trying. His dark eyes studied you with quiet amusement, his lips barely curling at the edges, as if he knew something you didn’t.

"You appear lost," he said smoothly, his voice rich and controlled.

You immediately straightened, trying to save face. "No, I'm not."

One of his brows arched. "Oh?"

"Yeah," you said, crossing your arms, attempting to look confident. "I was just... admiring the architecture."

Seonghwa tilted his head slightly. "The architecture?"

"Yeah. The, uh... walls. Very wall-like. Great walls. Top-tier."

There was a pause. Then—

"I see," he murmured, clearly holding back laughter.

Damn it.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. "Okay, fine. I’m lost."

Seonghwa finally let out a soft chuckle. "Come. I will take you back."

He turned, expecting you to follow. And well... what choice did you have? You weren’t about to wander around until you accidentally walked into the royal treasury or something.

As you walked beside him, you glanced up. "You don’t have to do this, you know."

Seonghwa didn’t look at you, but his expression was unreadable. "I was asked to."

You frowned. "By who?"

"Hongjoong."

Of course.

The damn prince had probably figured you’d get lost and decided you needed babysitting.

As you walked beside Seonghwa, the question had been nagging at you the entire time. You had seen the creature. You had seen the blood, the smoke, the person that had been pulled out of it. It made no sense.

So, finally, you asked, "What are Titans?"

Seonghwa didn’t stop walking, but he did glance at you, as if assessing whether you truly wanted to know. Then, after a brief pause, he started explaining.

Titans, as he described, were monstrous, humanoid beings—towering in size, with an insatiable instinct for destruction. Some were mindless, acting only on a primal urge to attack. Others, however, had intelligence, strategy. And those—those were the ones to truly fear.

You listened, nodding like you understood, but holy shit. This was so much worse than you thought. Not only were they terrifying, but apparently, some humans could become them. The guy they pulled out of the Titan today? That meant—

"So, wait—" you tried, attempting to put the pieces together. "That dude earlier. He was inside the Titan, but he was the Titan?"

Seonghwa nodded.

You blinked. "You know a lot about them."

At this, Seonghwa finally looked at you, his sharp gaze settling on yours. And then, in a tone that sent a shiver down your spine, he said,

"I have to."

You didn’t know why, but something about the way he said it made your stomach drop.

It wasn’t long before Seonghwa finally stopped in front of your room.

"Here," he said.

You turned to him, hesitant. "...Thanks."

He gave you a small nod, then, just as he was about to leave, he glanced back.

"Try not to wander too much, priestess," he said, his voice carrying something unreadable. "You never know where you might end up."

And with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, feeling like that was absolutely some kind of warning.

Seonghwa entered the dimly lit chamber where the rest of the princes were already gathered. The air was thick with anticipation, all eyes turning to him as he stepped inside.

Hongjoong, seated at the head of the table, leaned forward, fingers interlocked. “So?” he asked, his voice steady but expectant.

Seonghwa exhaled. “She asked.”

A subtle shift passed through the room. Yunho tilted his head, arms crossed over his chest. Mingi let out a low hum, tapping his fingers against the table. Yeosang remained silent, but his gaze sharpened, his mind already running through the implications.

“So, she’s curious,” Wooyoung mused, leaning back in his chair. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Or a problem,” San countered, his eyes narrowing. “Curiosity leads to questions, and questions lead to truths she might not be ready for.”

“She doesn’t have to be ready,” Hongjoong said simply, drumming his fingers on the table. “She will learn. Because she doesn’t have a choice.”

There was a beat of silence.

“She has no clue what she’s done,” Jongho muttered, arms resting on the table as he stared at its polished surface. “She tamed a Titan—without knowing how. That’s not normal.”

“It is impossible,” Yeosang corrected, finally speaking up. “Even if she had some natural ability, even if she had years of training—it should not have worked. And yet, it did.”

A slow smile crept onto Hongjoong’s lips. “Then she’s exactly who we need.”

Yeosang, ever the intellectual, adjusted his posture, his brows furrowing in deep thought. “It’s not possible,” he stated firmly. “Taming a Titan—any Titan—is unheard of. Even more so when the Titan in question is a shifter.” His voice was calm, but the weight of his words settled heavily in the room.

Wooyoung, ever the one to lighten the mood, exhaled dramatically. “Honestly, I’m still in shock. Like, I watched it happen, literally. And my brain still refuses to accept it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She just stood there and suddenly, boom, it felt like I was tamed by her.”

Seonghwa, who had remained composed throughout, finally spoke. “She saw the man who came out,” he informed them, his gaze sharp. “But she didn’t see who he was.”

A beat of silence followed his statement.

“Well,” Yunho mused, leaning back in his chair, “that’s a damn relief. If she had, we would’ve been beyond screwed.”

Jongho let out a low hum of agreement. “We’re already treading dangerous waters. She’s observant, and if she starts asking the wrong questions…”

Hongjoong smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Then we’ll just have to make sure she asks the right ones instead.”

The room remained silent for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling in.

Seonghwa crossed his arms. “She’s already asking about the Titans. It won’t be long before she starts wondering about everything else.”

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming idly against the wooden surface. “That’s fine,” he said simply. “Let her ask. We want her to be curious.”

Yeosang frowned slightly. “Curiosity will be dangerous.”

Hongjoong’s smirk widened. “Only if she finds the wrong answers.”

The words hung in the air, unspoken understanding passing between the princes. They had all known this moment would come the second she calmed the Titan. She wasn’t just some lost girl—she was now an anomaly, something they couldn’t ignore.

“She’s not stupid,” Jongho pointed out. “She already knows we’re keeping things from her.”

“Then let’s make sure what we do tell her keeps her on our side,” San said, his tone light but his meaning clear.

Mingi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “How do we even do that? It’s not like we can just sit her down and explain centuries of history to her over tea.”

“Actually, we could,” Yunho mused, before grinning. “But I doubt she’d sit still long enough.”

Wooyoung laughed. “No way. She’d either zone out or start asking the most ridiculous questions.” He mimicked YN’s voice dramatically, “‘So like, when did y’all decide to have giant murder creatures ‘chilling’ in your kingdom?’”

Seonghwa shook his head, but even he had a small smile at that.

But Yeosang’s mind was still on the bigger picture. “We need to test her again.”

Everyone turned to him.

“She could have been lucky,” he continued. “A single Titan responding to her once does not confirm anything. If she truly has this ability, then it should work again.”

Hongjoong nodded slowly, considering it. “You’re right.”

Wooyoung grinned. “So, what? We just throw her into the pit again and hope for the best?”

“Not yet,” Hongjoong said, standing up. “We’ll give her time to settle first. Let her believe she’s safe here.”

San leaned back, arms resting behind his head. “And then?”

Hongjoong smirked.

“Then, we see if she really is the key we’ve been waiting for.”

Meanwhile, in YN’s Room…

You lay flat on the giant-ass bed, staring at the ceiling, existential crisis fully activated.

“…I am so screwed.”

The events of the day kept replaying in your head. The dinner. The bombshell of the eight princes. The Titan taming. The fact that they basically said you were stuck here forever.

You groaned, rolling onto your side. Okay. Brainstorm time.

Option 1: Run away. LOL. Yeah, no. You’d probably get lost before even making it out of the palace.

Option 2: Refuse to cooperate. But then what? They’d just keep you locked up.

Option 3: Play along and figure out what’s really going on.

…Yeah. That was the only real choice, wasn’t it?

With a sigh, you sat up. Fine. If they wanted you to be some kind of Titan whisperer, then you’d at least make sure you understood what you were dealing with.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d find a way out of this mess in the process.

Over the next few days, you noticed something strange.

Despite what Hongjoong said—despite the whole “you don’t have a choice” thing—you weren’t being treated like a prisoner.

No locked doors. No chains. No guards breathing down your neck every second.

Instead, you were… kind of being spoiled.

Your room? Huge. The bed? Felt like sleeping on a cloud. Every morning, a tray of food was brought in, filled with things you didn’t even know existed but tasted amazing. And the weirdest part? The princes kept checking on you.

Like, actual royalty. The most powerful men in the kingdom. Just casually stopping by.

At first, you thought it was a coincidence. Maybe they had to make sure you didn’t jump out a window or something. But nah, these guys were actually going out of their way to talk to you.

Seonghwa was the first. He didn’t say much—just knocked on your door one morning and handed you a book. “You looked bored,” was all he said before walking off.

(You were, in fact, bored. But you were not expecting Prince Perfect Face to be the one to fix that.)

Then there was Yunho. You ran into him in one of the halls (because yes, you did eventually get lost). Instead of making fun of you, he just laughed and walked you back to your room, chatting the whole time like you were old friends.

Mingi? He straight-up handed you a dagger to practice. Didn’t even explain. Just put it in your hands, patted your head like you were some kid, and said, “You should learn to protect yourself.”

(Which was honestly kind of sweet in a very ‘I can’t say emotions so take this knife’ way.)

And don’t even get started on Wooyoung. That menace? He was just having fun messing with you. Always sneaking up, teasing you, calling you priestess just to see you get annoyed.

But out of all of them, Hongjoong was the one who confused you the most.

He was watching you. Not in a creepy way, but in a calculating way. Like he was waiting. For what, you had no idea. But sometimes, you’d catch him looking at you like he knew something you didn’t.

And the worst part? Being around them, it was easy to forget the situation you were in.

Because yeah, they were princes, but they were also just… men. And not just any men—attractive, confident, powerful men who, at the end of the day, still acted like a bunch of chaotic idiots when they were together.

Which was dangerous.

Because the more comfortable you got, the more you wanted to trust them.

But you couldn’t.

Right?

One afternoon, you were in one of the palace gardens, sitting by a fountain, when a voice spoke behind you.

“You look less miserable than usual.”

You turned and found Yeosang standing there, arms crossed.

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “What a compliment. I feel so special.”

He huffed out a small laugh and sat beside you, surprisingly close. His presence was warm—solid.

After a moment, he spoke again, quieter this time. “You’re not scared anymore.”

That threw you off. You frowned, turning to face him. “I—what?”

“The first day you were here, you looked ready to bolt at any second,” he said, his gaze steady. “But now… you don’t.”

You swallowed.

You wanted to argue. To say that of course you were still scared. That you weren’t dumb enough to feel safe here.

But… was that really true?

You did feel safer.

Not because you trusted them completely, but because… they had never actually hurt you. They had the power to, but they hadn’t.

And deep down, part of you was starting to believe they wouldn’t.

“…You’re making it really hard for me to keep my guard up,” you muttered.

Yeosang smirked. “Good.”

You scowled. “No, not good. I’m supposed to be—ugh. Forget it.”

He just looked at you, amused. Then, after a moment, he said, “We’re not your enemies, YN.”

Your stomach twisted. Aren’t you?

Before you could answer, he stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his coat.

“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand. “Hongjoong wants to see you.”

You eyed his hand, debating whether to take it.

Then, with a sigh, you reached out.

And just like that, he pulled you to your feet—holding on just a second longer than necessary before letting go.

Yeah. This was dangerous.

Taglist: @jujusreader @nkryuki @footballjournal @zzenkha @yuuuuuuusthings @lunaryoongie @freyaphoria @milymacha @dekyepunn @pinkpearlstar @mochi13 @clmstorm @scheepmans @hecateslittlewitchling @s4nniebe4r @gae-ping-boosay @haowonbins @asweetblueberry2 @sassy-snassy @amazaynaastha @lilyalone @lunaryoongie

[wovendreamscapes]

Azriel's existential crisis (aka Eris is sexy and hot and Azriel is seriously not okay) Also known as the annoying thing that took me two freaking hours to write.

Azriel had never had an actual biological clock before, but watching Eris kneel down to a child’s level and wipe their tear-streaked face with a gentleness that shouldn’t be possible from a male who set people on fire. . . well.

It was ticking. It was clanging. It was screaming at him.

“Come on, little flame” Eris murmured, tucking a loose curl behind the child’s ear. “You’re alright.”

Azriel actually, physically, audibly sighed. Cassian, the bastard, heard him and shot him a look like Mother above, you have it so bad. And he did, but Cassian gets annoying when he is right, so Azriel ignored him.

The kid, a faeling with dirt brown curls and watery hazel eyes, sniffled and peered up at Eris like he hung the stars, and Azriel felt that, because same, kid.

“It hurts,” the child whimpered, holding up a skinned knee.

Eris hummed and tsked sympathetically. “Of course it does. I’ll tell you what. How about I make it better? In return, you tell me who won the very dramatic game of tag I saw earlier?”

The child hesitated, then whispered conspiratorially, “It was Caris, but we’re telling her she cheated. Cause she did.”

Eris nodded solemnly, as if this was the most serious intelligence he’d ever received. “Understandable. And how did she cheat?”

Azriel was fully leaning against a tree now, arms crossed, because Eris looked so—so soft with the child. He wasn’t even using magic, just a damp cloth to dab at the scrape, careful and unhurried. The child hiccuped another sniffle but was clearly distracted by relaying the heinous cheating scandal of Caris, complete with hand gestures.

“Caris pushed me, but she said she tripped, and I know she didn’t, because her eyes did the thing—”

“Ah, the thing,” Eris agreed. “A telltale sign of treachery. Smart boy, being able to see that.”

Azriel clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might crack.

It was the voice. The voice.

Eris had a particular way of speaking to children—not like they were idiots, not with that patronizing lilt some adults used. He spoke to them like they were actual people, just smaller, and like their concerns such as skinned knees and cheating and all were actually worth listening to.

Which, of course, they were. But it made something in Azriel ache in a way he hadn’t expected.

“There we go,” Eris said, tying off a tiny bandage with a flourish. “Good as new.”

The child beamed up at him, then promptly launched into his arms, and Azriel saw the Mother.

The kid was hugging Eris like he belonged there, and Eris, to Azriel’s complete lack of surprise, just scooped him up with practiced ease and ruffled his curls.

“Off you go,” Eris said, patting his back. “And remember—Caris may have cheated, but you let her win, didn’t you?”

The kid hesitated, then nodded like this was true. “Yeah. I did.”

Eris winked and set him down. “I thought so.”

The child ran off, dramatically shouting something about an honor duel for the tag championship, and Eris finally turned back to where Azriel was still staring at him like an absolute lunatic.

He arched a brow. “You alright, shadowsinger?”

Azriel made a noise that was meant to be a casual grunt but sounded suspiciously like a distressed whimper.

Cassian howled in laughter. Azriel could swear he heard his shadows laughing too.

“Don’t,” Azriel muttered.

“Too late,” Cassian wheezed. “You should see your face—”

Azriel absolutely refused to acknowledge the warmth on his own cheeks. Instead, he just looked at Eris, at the way his mate was brushing dirt from his hands, looking so damn perfect that Azriel couldn't take it.

“You’re good with them,” he said, and his voice came out rough.

Eris snorted, crossing his arms. “It’s not difficult. They’re just tiny drunk people with no self-preservation. A little respect goes a long way.”

Cassian was still snickering. “You want one, don’t you?” he said, grinning at Azriel. “Admit it.”

Azriel did not dignify that with a response.

He did, however, glare at Cassian, because obviously he wanted one. Multiple. Many. An entire litter. He had visions of red-haired, hazel-eyed, sharp-tongued little nightmares darting through their home, of soft, sleepy murmurs and bedtime stories and—

No. Stop.

Eris cocked his head, clearly amused. “Azriel.”

Azriel swallowed. “Hm?”

“You’re staring again Shadow.”

Azriel absolutely was.

He dragged a hand over his face and exhaled slowly. “I just—” He hesitated. His mate was too perceptive to lie to.

“I want to put a baby in you,” he finally said, with the quiet, calm intensity of a male who had lived too long to get embarrassed easily.

Cassian choked.

Eris blinked. Then, to Azriel’s unending horror, he smirked.

“Oh?” Eris purred. “Do you?”

Azriel groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable.” Eris patted his chest condescendingly. “But I regret to inform you that’s not how that works.”

Azriel muttered something truly vulgar under his breath, but Eris just laughed, the bastard, and tugged him forward by the collar.

“Maybe,” Eris mused, eyes alight with something warm, something that made Azriel's cock take notice, “one day we’ll figure something out.”

Azriel narrowed his eyes. “Are you messing with me?”

Eris just kissed him, slow and deep, before murmuring against his lips, “Would I ever do that?”

Azriel grumbled but let himself be kissed, mostly because he didn’t trust himself to keep thinking about the undeniable fact that Eris Vanserra was perfect and needed to be impregnated immediately, no matter how impossible that may be.

Cassian, meanwhile, was still dying behind them. “This is hilarious,” he gasped. “Rhys is gonna lose it.”

Azriel would kill him later.

For now, he had a mate to hold, and an existential crisis to endure.

[askthestans]

Hey Stan, can you tell us stories about your brother Sherman being a total square?

Stan and Ford: At the same time. You mean Square-mie?

Both of them laugh, not in a harsh way, but the kind of lighthearted chuckles that usually come from one sibling teasing another. It's obvious they love their older brother, but... like most siblings, they'll always jump on a chance to make fun of one another.

Stan: Oh, he always hated that nickname! Look, Anon, lemme first introduce ya to the official scale of Pines fun-ness. At the top, there's me, for obvious reasons. Second best is Mabel, also for obvious reasons. And... He pauses, putting his hand to his chin. Damn, I gotta say, I think Ford's next-

Ford: I am as much of an adventurer as I am a scientist.

Stan: Yeah, definitely Ford, despite his dorkiness and obsession with... He gestures at Ford's honors and trophies for grades and intelligence related successes from childhood. That garbage. Good grades and other crap. And then-

Ford: Definitely our nephew, Dipper and Mabel's father. Works in IT, very smart, has a little bit more of Mabel's fun-loving nature. But far less adventurous than you or I. You and I could never live a boring suburban life like he does.

Stan: Grinning. Then, near the very bottom, you've got Dipper. No offense to the kid, but he's Ford's smarts but minus Ford's rebel streak. Walkin' wet blanket at times, always askin' how many laws we're breakin' while we're out havin' fun... although me and Ford are teachin' 'im to grow past it, as much as his parents will let us corrupt 'im. But he at least likes to have fun, I'll give 'im that. So that leaves us at-

Ford: Way at the very bottom of the Pines fun-ness scale, you have... Square-mie. He coughs. Shermie, sorry.

Both men howl with snorts and laughter again, barely able to explain why.

Stan: Wiping a tear from his eye, wheezing a bit. Okay, okay, Anon, picture this: take Dipper and his dad's wet blanket crap and crank it up to 1000. This guy? Our brother? Good ol' Saint Sherm? Guy's never even had a parking ticket his entire life! He won't even jaywalk! He never goes even one mile per hour above the speed limit! He's like the human equivalent of white bread. Of unflavored oatmeal. Got average grades, got a boring old suburban house with a literal white picket fence, had an average job-

Ford: Shudders. I have no idea how he worked as an IRS accountant for decades.

Stan: Ugh, don't remind me. He's always barkin' at me. "Stan, you pay your taxes yet this year?" this. "Stan, you need to contribute to your civic duty.", that. Cripes, ol' Sherm is like the anti-Pines. A Pines is supposed to laugh in the face of rules and authority. This guy huffs whatever authority's smokin' like he's part of a cult. Even when we were kids, he'd always do chores even when he wasn't asked. Kept his room clean as a whistle. Barked at me to do my homework and foiled our pranks when he could. Pure goody two shoes, so much he'd make an angel blush. I think all of our Ma's rebellion genes went to us, and Pa's strictness went to Sherm.

Ford: Yes, so after I returned and we explained to him what had happened, he...

Both men fall into a snicker fest again, unsure who will stop laughing first long enough to tell the story.

Stan: Holy mackerel, he... he... Snort. Picture Dipper at, like, seventy years old, but with an even bigger stick up his ass and even less muscles somehow. Gets told this long, convoluted as hell tale about me fakin' my death and pretendin' to be Ford for three decades, Ford gettin' lost in sci-fi sideburn land for just as long, the world almost ending with Sherm's grandkids along for the ride... just mind bendin' stuff... and the first words outta his mouth... and for reference, this guy never swears, and he never has thrown a punch at anyone... he's so square he's a cube! But he just says...

He wheezes, so Ford has to finish the story.

Ford: Snort. He raises his voice a bit, likely to mimic Shermie's. "I just knew I shoulda kicked your asses more when we were kids."

The two howl and cackle with laughter, leaning on each other for support.

Stan: And then he just... walked away, out his door, down the street to the gas station, bought beer for the - and I'm not kidding - the first time in his life, and sat back down in his old man chair and faced us as we just stood there, gobsmacked, while he cracked one open and drank it with an expression like a man betrayed. And he said-

Ford: "You two knuckleheads are lucky I'm even older than you, 'cause if I wasn't, I'd plant my loafer up your ass! You're gonna sit down, shut up, and let me drink this crap while I process whatever the f*ck I just heard and how many goddamn taxes you owe. And then maybe I'll think about huggin' your sorry asses."

More laughing.

Stan: I'm not sure if he was more mad about the taxes, or the fact that I'd faked my death all those years ago, or... the world ending part where Dipper and Mabes coulda been hurt... or maybe because we drove him to drink and swear and threaten someone for the first time in his whole goddamn life, all in the same day, he... Chuckles. He never really said. All I know is, is I don't think I've ever had my jaw that close to the floor in my life.

Ford: Honestly, I think we just kind of... broke him. Even still, I think he blew our minds more than we blew his.

Stan: He laughs a bit more, then shakes his head. Pfft, can you imagine Sherm kickin' our asses, anyway? He'd probably gently nudge one of our shins and give up. He's too nice for anything worse. That's the thing with our brother: he may be boring as sin, but... he's a good guy.

Ford: He always protected us from bullies when we were kids. Carried us home whenever we sprained an ankle or broke a bone.

Stan: And bought us ice cream whenever we asked, and fixed our bikes, and patched us up, scared the "monsters" outta our closet, and taught us most of what we know. Kind of like a second Dad, honestly, and one a lot less grumpy. A bit more somber. And he helped our parents out in their old age when we weren't around, until the... well, you know. 'Til the end.

Ford: His smile fades, then he sighs, expression a bit bittersweet. And he did actually hug us.

Stan: He scratches the back of his head, a bit embarrassed, but smiling fondly. For three hours straight.

[faiszt]

⠀⠀⠀───⠀⠀ ACADEMIC LIFE⠀⠀·⠀୭⠀⠀🚬̸⠀ִ⠀ﾟ⠀ r. ︎ cameron ꒰ 注意！ ꒱⠀minors do not interact⠀⠀ে♥︎ ूੂ⠀ eighteen plus

୨୧⠀summary!⠀you and rafe are the complete opposites of what an exemplary college student would be and, honestly, you can barely stand each other. except when he’s the one responsible for de-stressing your brilliant brain for you.︎⠀♥︎

୨୧⠀content warning:⠀ smut. hard & strong language. weed mentions. enemies with benefits. masturbation. slightly praise kink. dirty talk. fingering. handjob. ୨୧⠀wordcount:⠀2.8k⠀·⠀again, minors do not interact!

୨୧⠀letters to lovers:⠀hey! this has been in my drafts for a while and though i’ve read and re-read it, i can’t really guarantee that i haven’t missed any little mistakes. so, i apologize in advance. i hope you like it! ♡ see you soon.

star student, there was an appeal to being the highest-graded student in the class, though college was more about survival than being exemplary. you decided that surviving wasn’t your only goal, but rather always being the best, almost a matter of honor for your competitive brain.

everything could be a competition if you tried hard enough not to be the loser. but, rafe believed that you were actually just a spoiled know-it-all in who’d end up successful, because you’re brilliant, but alone and divorced at thirty... or rather, maybe not even divorced because he doubted you could stand to be around anyone without losing your temper with them in the next five minutes.

he certainly had a lot of opinions about you for someone who’d make the long walk to the visual arts building just to see the know-it-all who pretends to be a nobel prize winner in physics.

and he’d say it from the rooftops if he wasn’t drooling over you and your beautiful, stupidly smart brain that he’d like to do many things with which, again, he’d never mention out loud. envy or weird love, probably hard to say which feeling was stronger in him.

it wasn’t like you didn’t have controversial opinions about him either. like his stupidity, his bad sarcastic comments, his slowness, his use of weed beyond what’s supposed to be recommended, maybe looking like a chimney wasn’t exactly cool. he was intelligent, not the scientist type, but as hot as insufferable.

rafe was the perfect person to set an example for you of what not to do, so you criticized him whenever you had the chance, then he criticized you whenever he had the chance. it wasn’t an academic competition, much less an artistic one, maybe it was just one about who could last the longest without trying to get into the other’s pants again.

the first competition you both lost.

in the passenger seat of his minivan, you had your arms crossed over your chest and a grumpy expression on your face. rafe looked at you over his shoulder, rolling his eyes and chuckling softly at your behavior before taking a drag on his joint. “you need to relax, two-shoes,” a low cough between his words. “i swear this one is good.” he offered you the joint, but you grabbed his wrist and pushed it away from you. “fine, you’re the boss.”

silence reigned in his minivan for a few minutes before he sighed and put his joint aside, looking at you, waiting for you to tell him what was making you so mad that you asked to spend time with him and didn’t insult him yet. a miracle, honestly. “it’s not like i’m going to care that much, but if you want to talk about what’s makin’ your lame ass hurt so bad... i’m all ears.” yeah, he wasn't really unbearable.

“i’m just stressed, rafe,” you sighed, still looking as grumpy as you did before. “and a joint isn’t going to make that better.” you took away his hopes and he just looked like a kicked puppy after knowing that you didn’t even want to try the best thing he could offer you. “i just need to stop thinkin’ about my academic life, that shit is killin’ me.”

“i see...” he mimicked your behavior, crossing his arms in front of his body with a slightly serious expression. “get a dog and teach it to bite you every time you spend more than three minutes quiet.” rafe suggested in the dumbest way he could think of, starting to laugh when he saw that it only made you more grumpy. “okay, okay... i can drive around, how ’bout that? i’ll take you somewhere nice... and i can make you chill your brain, princess.”

his words echoed in your mind as he drove around, you didn’t know where he was taking you and honestly, you just hoped that this would be enough to take your mind off all that unbearable pressure on your shoulders. ironic that he was the one who cared enough to want to take care of you when you turned to him.

twenty minutes or a little less, the silence was quite loud, though the music on the radio was too, you were talking to your own thoughts and he was trying to talk to you, even if you couldn’t hear him. the sun had already set on the horizon, the blue sky was no longer as vivid as it used to be and the clouds were slowly covering the stars that were trying to appear. melancholic, you thought.

you would’ve even thought about it a little more if you hadn’t been distracted by the minivan pulling up. the whole city right in front of your eyes through the windshield, you had never seen it before. “a viewpoint?” your eyes didn’t want to leave that sight, but you did it anyway, looking at rafe with a little more than that tired, stressed mood from before.

“the best place in this shitty city, actually. nobody comes here, perfect to have a nice joint,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest before leaning back in his seat. “i mean, it’s a good place to chill with a pretty girl, yeah? now smile a little, you’re makin’ me depressed.”

“your life is already makin’ you depressed.” you retorted and he just laughed, placing his hand over his chest as if he had been slapped hard.

“ouch, princess, why so mean?” then, rafe sighed, almost like a snort, looking away from you for nothing more than a second. “come on, you can’t stay sulking forever... you need a helping hand or somethin’ to lighten that mood?”

you knew perfectly well what he meant by helping hand, not that he was discreet with the meaning of his words when his hand was already snaking over your bare knee. “i’m trying to be generous with you today, but looks like you don’t deserve my generosity right now.” he was just teasing you, quite predictable, it wasn’t like he’d deny you if you just looked at him with that look.

“you were less pathetic to try to finger me back then, you know?” your not-really-funny joke made him laugh, kinda bothered as he took his hand off your knee, adjusting your seat so you could lie down a little more.

“yeah, yeah, pathetic... let’s see who will be the pathetic one here in a few minutes.” damn bastard. you should’ve known rafe was silly, goofy and whatever, but he took it seriously when you called him pathetic, almost as if that was his only weakness when it came out of your mouth, specifically.

before you could think straight, his hand was already on you again, between your thighs, caressing the thin fabric of your underwear while he didn’t even look at you. he looked so good, not at all bothered like he was before by your little joke, maybe because he knew you’d still have a massive crush on him even if he was the most jerk man in the whole world.

your skirt meant nothing more than a boring piece of cloth that was getting in the way of him reaching his goal and, honestly, he wanted to take it off right that second, but he held himself back. “pussy and joint, thank god.” yeah, well, he was high, you already knew that anyway.

“are you going to be quiet or do you need me to sit on your stupid face?” rafe paused for a second contemplating your words before nodding, pulling your panties down as if he was following orders you didn’t even have to give him.

“this isn’t as threatening as you think it is.”

“rafe.”

“it’s the weed.”

and could you stay mad at him? definitely not. he was a little... well, frustrating and silly, but damn, you could put up with so much bullshit if it meant having his fingers all the way on you. rafe was the perfect blend of everything you couldn’t be, the perfect antidote to whatever it was you had.

his long finger with a silver ring stroked your clit gently, little pressure, just looking at you as if he wanted to gauge exactly what you wanted and how you wanted it. he wasn’t a stranger to it, but pleasing you every time was what he wanted to do. “can i put my finger inside?” anyone could say anything about him, except that he wasn’t a good boy even when he was fingering you.

“yeah.” you sighed deeply, watching his fingers caress your clit before moving down your slit in an almost chilling manner. that was exactly what you needed and you couldn’t believe how well he did it even when he was kind of high.

you had to bite your lips, his middle finger stroked your entrance for a brief moment, using your own juices to make you wetter for him—which, honestly, you already were, but he wanted a little more, just for the show. until he began to lightly pump his finger in and out for a good time, watching you with a small smirk, listening to your every single little grunt.

“you look so pretty with my finger inside your pussy, princess.” he almost sounded like he was purring in his whisper, putting a little more force on your finger and increasing the pace. didn’t you want to de-stress? then, he’d de-stress you nice and deep. “can you suck it for me?”

rafe pulled his finger out of you, making you miss it for a minute before he brought his wet finger to your lips. “open your mouth for me.” he asked in the nicest way possible waiting for you to open your pretty little mouth, like he wasn’t finger fucking you before, like he was a sweet gentleman. “yes. just like that, you’re so obedient, princess.”

he brushed his finger across your lips, chuckling softly in a sly manner. “this could be your lip gloss... i’d love to kiss you with that taste...” he stuck his finger in your mouth, running the tip over your tongue, making you taste yourself on his finger before going deeper. his silver ring was cold against your lips as he was tickling your throat, he loved the sight. “you choke so well on my cock, i wanna see if you do the same with my finger.”

idiot, that was the truth about him, he was still chuckling softly like a silly boy when he purposely started trying to make you choke on his finger. you’d be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t like the way he treated you. “there you go, nice and wet.” he seemed satisfied when he made you gag enough for your eyes to water, it was exactly what he wanted to see. “back to your sweet pussy...”

you took a deep breath as he removed his finger from your mouth, saliva wetting the corner of your lips as he slowly put his finger back inside you, pumping in and out again. “you’re going too slow.” your words came out with a spark of discontent.

“yeah, princess? let’s do this your way then... is that fast enough for you?” the question was almost on purpose, just because he absurdly increased the pace of his fingers and wanted to see if you’d answer him without sighing. which you didn’t, and like the good bastard he always was, this served to make him feel way proud about the effect he had on you. “or do you need a little more?”

he put another finger inside you, making you let out a restrained moan as you bit your lower lip, then he stopped. “no. i wanna hear you. now... or i’ll stop again.” he warned, moving his fingers inside you again. hearing you moan was like listening to music, he couldn’t get tired, especially knowing that he was the one making you moan like that.

but, rafe was weak and you could see the bulge growing in his pants, but he was too busy pleasuring you to care about how horny he felt.

“rafe,” you called him, your hand slowly moving towards his thigh. he was making you feel so fucking good, it was fair that you did the same for him too. “let me touch you too... please.” a smirk began to appear on his lips when he heard you asking to touch him, that was the last straw and he knew he couldn’t deny you anything—not when his fingers were so deep in your pussy.

“yes, princess, whatever you want. my cock is yours... to do what you want.” he grunted, using his free hand to pull his pants down, a little bit, just so he could pull his cock out of his boxers. thick and hard, waiting for your touch. then, he took your hand, guiding it towards his erect member and wrapping your fingers around it. “mhmmh... sweet girl.”

he began to arch his hips upwards as he thrust his fingers deeper inside you again and again, pumping in and out quickly, your moans intensifying and making him feel ever closer to a pleasurable end. he was so worked up for you.

“i’m going to...” your legs were going weak, your fingers squeezing his cock as they moved up and down. your mumbling was intense and messy, you had to look at him and damn, what a sight. you could see his cock glistening with his pre-cum, as if it was offering itself to you. “... fuck.”

“use your... words, princess...” rafe moaned hoarsely, his digits slowing way too much just so he could appreciate your expression of pleasure, the expression of someone who was so close to break down.

“yes... mmhm... i’m going to... come...” each of the words that came out of your mouth dragged out like a long moan. he could feel how much you were squeezing his fingers, moving your hips towards them and almost closing your legs—he knew your stress was dissipating at that moment, seeing the satisfaction reflecting in your eyes.

a low chuckle escaped him, he pumped his fingers in and then, they were completely out of you, so he could just put them all the way down inside you again. back and forth until your inner thighs were shaking. “and so am i...” he grunted, using his free hand to guide your hand one more time, making you stroke him faster and harder than before. “come for me, sweet princess... let me know i made you come like you needed.”

it didn’t take long, your orgasm came like a flood that almost left you drowsy. your breathing was labored, your legs weak and shaking, just like you wanted—just like you needed, the stress of your college life finally leave you alone for a while.

meanwhile, rafe next to you had his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of your hand on his cock, making him see stars until he was a cumming mess. the jets of cum on his bare stomach making him notice how intense he was with you and how only you could provide that to him. “this would be embarrassing if i hadn’t made you cum just now,” he grumbled before straightening up in the driver’s seat to grab a roll of toilet paper from the backseat. yeah, of course he had that there. “here if you need, my princess.”

the emphasis he placed on the possessive pronoun might stress you out if you weren’t simply too busy still thinking about how amazing his fingers felt. you watched him clean himself out of the corner of your eye before doing the same, wiping yourself down and lifting your panties back into place—as if nothing had happened.

“thank you.” despite your behavior, it was clear that this would give him a few good days without having to deal with you insulting him for any little reason you could think of. eventually, he’d totally win you over, it was just a matter of time.

rafe was almost overjoyed to know that he was your escape valve, glad to be able to take advantage of the chances you gave him, especially because he’d make good use of each one of them. “how about we go get something to eat now? i’m so hungry that i could eat you.” he said, the confusing face you made when you didn’t understand what he had said was priceless.

“what did you just say?”

“nothing. it’s the weed.”

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox, you’ll be welcome. ꒰ ˶> ˕ <˶ ꒱ ♡

©⠀𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐙𝐓, 2025.⠀don’t use my work without my consent.

[danieyells]

@mayoigotokurousagi asked for a few more of the home screen dialogues I liked from a couple of characters, so here's Leo! Also included are the Japanese versions of the text for this one.

I LOVE HIM HE'S SUCH A LITTLE SHIT. . . . Once again this is nearly now all of them because this mfer has such personality lmao his also go with a few other characters', so there's i think one for Romeo and two or three for Sho in there too.

Also as a warning. . .i got a little horny in my commentary for some of these. But it's not my fault, Leo's the one who's saying things like that lol

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Nice timing, Honor Roll. Give me your hand. Come on, just do it." あ、特待生サマちょうどよかった。手、貸して。早く早く

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Hey, your messages are piling up. Hurry up and open them, it's annoying." ねぇ、さっきからずっと未読の通知来てんじゃん。うざいから早く読んじゃってよ

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"Ugh, you're so loud. Ask for permission if you want to talk to me. ...Nope, denied." うるさ……オレに話しかけんなら先に許可取ってくんない？ ……はい駄目

This isn't the only time he complains about volume. Maybe his ears are always sensitive even without using his stigma?

"I'm thirsty, go buy me a drink. What kind? Why don't you take a guess?" 喉乾いた。ジュース買ってきて。 なに系がいいって？ じゃあ、オレが飲みたい味、当ててみてよ

he likes spicy stuff, do you think he likes bitter stuff too? Maybe lemonade? Do you think he's one of those influences who's like 'i never eat anything bad for me' so he either drinks diet soda or no soda at all? I feel like he wouldn't be able to handle restrictions like that--also he loves Painfully Spicy Food so. . . .

Hey Honor Roll! ...Don't make that face at me. I'm being totally genuine right now. ね、特待生サマ♡ ……なにその顔。別になんも企んでないよ

We were deprived of a cute heart in his localized text to emphasize how saccharine he was being. How dare they.

"Have you seen Cap? Ugh, bet he's lurching around lost again..." ねぇ、うちの寮長サマ見なかった？ ……あいつ、また迷子にでもなってんじゃないの

the real question is, does Leo then go look for him himself, wait for him to come back on his own, or get Sho, the PC, or someone else to bring him back for him?

"We're fighting again? Which house? ...Ugh, pass." ……なになに、また揉めてんの？どこの寮？ なんだ……つまんな

I wonder which houses he wouldbe up to fight. Probably Hotarubi since he's kind of invested in Subaru's suffering? Maybe Frostheim since they already have beef--on the other hand, maybe that'd be boring for him. But man he seems pretty ready to go with that, Sho wasn't kidding when he said they got kicked out of every club in Shibuya because Leo's always picking fights.

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ugh, I'm so tired... I'm done with these classes already. I'll just show up for tests and skip the rest." は～……ねむ…… なんか怪異の授業も飽きたし、テスト以外もう出んのやめよ……

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm starving! Huh? Where'd Sho go? I swear he was here a second ago... Whatever. I'll make that NPC go buy something for me." お腹空いた～。 あれ、翔ちゃんは？ここにいると思ったんだけど…… ま、いっか。モブ女に購買行かせよ

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"That fucking himbo left me behind again..." あのポンコツ朴念仁……またオレのこと置いて行きやがって

he really wants to get involved in the spy situation huh. That or it's something administrative. Even at affinity 3 Alan leaving him out of something interesting upsets him a bit, which is interesting.

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Right now? I'm programming an app. I'm not doing anything that complex, just making an ordering system." 今？　アプリのプログラミング中。 別にそんな難しいことしてないよ。オーダーシステム作ってるだけ～

Of note, this is Sho's Affinity 7 line:

"Nice, got an order. More demand than I thought. Getting Leo to make this app was a good call." お、出前の予約が入ったわ……思ったより需要あってよ。 玲音に予約アプリ作らせたの正解だったな

So he made Sho an app for his food truck! Probably not for free of course--good to get the occasional reminder that Leo's both really smart and really good with technology lol

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ugh... Cap smashed my woofer. I was just playing music in the Pit since we can't go clubbing..." だっる……クラブ行けない代わりに地下で音楽流してたら、寮長サマにウーハーぶっ壊されたんだけど……

That was kinda mean on Alan's part haha

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Who's DMing me? Oh, it's this account. Huh... Now that's interesting."

the tea has arrived, piping hot i see. . . .

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hey, over here. Give this tabloid to that national treasure wannabe in front of the food truck. Just do it!" キミ、こっちこっち。 あのキッチンカーの前にいる国宝気取りに、この週刊誌渡してきて。いいから早く！

My guy does not like Subaru huh lmao or rather he loves tea and wants to set Subaru off or something. . . .

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hey, Cap, could you open this bottle for me? Do it yourself? I can't, that's why I'm— hey! Where are you going?! ねぇ寮長サマ～、このペットボトルの蓋開けて～♡　 いや、無理だから頼んで…… ちょっとどこ行くの！？

Leo really said 'i need a big strong man in my life' and Alan said 'good luck becoming one' kekw ONCE AGAIN DEPRIVED OF HEARTS

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Time to see what the bug I planted in his car picked up... Huh? What the fuck?! Someone broke it!!" さてと、あいつの車に仕込んだ盗聴器の収穫は～…… は？　なにこれ！壊されてんだけど！！

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"This pillow mist? I only bought it because it was trending, but it's better than I thought it'd be. Ro-Ro's hooked on it too." あ、この寝香水？　バズってるから買ったんだけど、意外とよくてさ。ロミサマもハマってるみたいよ？

Romeo's Affinity 8 line references this:

"You're smelling the bedtime fragrance I bought from Kurossa earlier. He has a good eye, so I often ask him to pick things out for me." この香り？　さっきクロッサから買った寝香水だよ。あいつセンスいいから、よく見繕ってもらうわけ

"Kurossa" obviously being from "Kurosagi", Leo's surname. These two became fast friends, huh. Maybe they already knew each other from social media, since Romeo has an Instagram too. I bet they take the prettiest selfies.

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Night, then. What? I haven't slept yet. Unlike you, I actually have shit to do." じゃ、おやすみ～…… なに？　今から寝るんだけど。オレ、キミと違って忙しいの

Sho also stays up pretty late lmao. I assume Leo does much of his hacking in the dead of night. . .then again why's he using his sleep mist before he goes to bed?

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Why is this place so overrun with fucking losers?! My eardrums are going to burst!! ...I'm going back to the garage to play with Cap." どこいても雑魚どもがうっさい！！この学園、マジどうなってんの！？ ……ガレージ戻って寮長サマで遊ぼ

The word "雑魚" which was translated as 'loser' means "nobody" or "unimportant person" lol which means Alan is someone of greater importance than others to him? Or just more bearable? Or maybe just likes that he's quieter or finds him more entertaining lol it's kind of nice to see that they're "getting along" in the loosest sense of the term i guess. . . .

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Huh... The little kabuki prince's sister married an actor from a different troupe? Bet there's something going on there." ふ～ん……梨園の御曹司サマには、別の屋号の歌舞伎役者と結婚した姉がいる…… なんか、超匂うわ～……

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"You think I smell good? It's L'Occitane body lotion. I just throw some on after showering in the morning." この匂い？　ロクシタンのボディーローションだけど。 朝シャンの後、ぱぱっとつけてるだけだよ

the pc mentions that Leo's hair smells floral, so I bet he smells super nice. And I guarantee you he's not using men's fragrances either, he wants to smell pretty, leave that hypermasculine shit to Alan and Sho.

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Okay, okay, I'm coming... Ugh. Calling the whole house out at the ass crack of dawn... What is wrong with that himbo?" はいはい、行くってば…… はぁ。朝っぱらから寮生集会とか、あのポンコツ朴念仁なに考えてんの？

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Ugh, I totally missed out on that ultra-spicy chicken thing they had in Shin-Okubo. Guess I'll read the reviews and get Sho to recreate it." あ～新大久保の激辛チキン、完全に食べ損ねてる…… ネットのレビュー調べて、翔ちゃんに再現させるか

I feel like, if not for that it'd have all the flavor sucked out of it from the spiciness, Sho would probably have a good time replicating flavors like that. He likes to make different cultures' foods after all.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Wow, so late already. Better get a bath going and get ready for bed. Here you go. It's for scrubbing the bath." やば、もうこんな時間じゃん。さっさと風呂溜めて寝る支度しよ。 はいこれ、風呂掃除用のブラシ♪

If you do a real good job of cleaning the tub for him, he may even let you have some of his bathwater! Isn't he generous?

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"That dumb video got over 10k interacts? God, you're all so basic... Muting." あんな適当な動画が万バズとか、本当ちょろすぎ……うるさいから通知切ろ……

No respect or love for his fans is2g

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I can touch you, but you can't touch me. That's how this works, got it?" オレからキミに触るのはオッケー。キミからオレに触るのはダメ。 いい？　これがオレたちのルールね

This is probably so much more innocuous than it sounds--like literal touching, or maybe him holding his fame as an influencer over you--especially since he's saying it with a straight face but. . .it's so easy to imagine this as Leo cuffing or tying your hands and when you ask what he's doing he climbs in your lap and moves your clothes out of his way and says this. . .and at this point you've probably never fucked or kissed or anything before so it's a little out of the blue but you can't really stop him and he just toys with you until he's satisfied. . .one of my favorite of his lines just because it's a little dirty lol

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"There she is. Hey, Honor Roll! You free? There's something I was really hoping you could help me with." あ、いたいた。ねぇ特待生サマ～、今日って暇？　 ちょっと付き合って欲しいことがあんだけど♪

given this is his expression in the first line(and the little music note with his second line) he's probably up to no good lol there's either something he really needs to hear or something he really wants to do to you specifically. in Japanese he says "I just want you to keep me company for a while♪"

BUT MAYBE I'M ASSUMING TOO MUCH MAYBE HE JUST DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO ASK YOU TO HANG OUT OTHERWISE. Like how the PC asks Sho if they need help on the food truck and he immediately clocks "you don't have to offer to help just so you can spend time with me you know"

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hey, Honor Roll, come sit down. Not over there, next to me. Good, you're comfy. Don't move, I'm taking a nap." 特待生サマ、ちょっとここ座って。 違うよ、オレの隣。 あ～気持ち～♡しばらく昼寝するから動かないでね

Lap pillow hours! Whether you like it or not! He said no touching him, so no moving him off your lap, either! He might make an exception for having his hair pet though.

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"They went to the Pit again? Must really get a kick out of it... Like big, dumb animals throwing themselves at each other." あいつら、また地下に行ってんの？好きだね～本当…… やってること、虫相撲とほぼ変わんないじゃん……

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"The whole demon nickname? People can call me whatever they want. I know who I am." 悪魔って呼ばれてること？ 別に、好きにすればって感じ。オレが何者かは、オレが一番わかってるもん

His expression saying this is his default one where he's smiling, so I guess it really doesn't bug him, which is good. He probably gets a kick out of it.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Stay like this till I tell you to leave, okay? Got it? I didn't hear an answer." オレが行っていいって言うまで、キミはずっとこうしててね♡ ……わかった？　返事は？

Again, this one's a little dirty which makes me like it a lot hahaha. . .this is a late night one(it's labeled "GoodNight" and only pops up between 10pm and midnight) is he telling you to sit still while he sleeps on your lap or uses you as a body pillow? Is he making you sit still with a toy in you while he ignores you or pretends he's not tormenting you sexually? SORRY I FIND SEXUAL THINGS SO AMUSING BUT HE'S MAKING IT SOUNDS SO HORNY. The audio doesn't sound as horny as i'm making it sound off but like LOOK AT IT.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Wanna make a bet, Honor Roll? Over which will come first—me falling for you, or you getting hooked on me." 特待生サマさ、オレと賭けない？ オレがキミを好きになるのが先か、キミがオレに沼るのが先か

I think it's a little late for you, sweetheart. I think you've already caught the feels and that ship is sailed.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"Why the hell would I go to class? I already learned all the first year material." 授業なんて出るわけないじゃん。１年で覚えなきゃいけない範囲は、もう全部やっちゃったし

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Cap really puts the "him" in "himbo..." Look at him, he's got a flower stuck in his hair." 寮長サマってさ、あんな見た目してなんでポンコツなんだろね…… ほら見てよ。頭に花くっついてるし

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Quick Honor Roll, stand over there. Perfect. Now hold my phone. You're the cameraman." ちょっと特待生サマ、そこ立って。そそ、いい感じ。 で、オレのスマホ持って。はいキミ、カメラマンね

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Can't believe how many gross dudes this account keeps reeling in. AI-generated pics make it so easy! "Could you send me some more money ♡?” Send." このアカ、変態ジジイ釣れすぎなんだけど。ＡＩ美女画像マジ便利～！ もっとペイペイちょ～だい♡っと

I find it funny that they use AI generated images for their backgrounds and also have a character who scams people with AI generated images. . . .

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"That rule about having to wear your academy or house uniform on campus is so outdated. I'm going to die wearing all this crap in this heat." 学内は基本、制服か寮服じゃなきゃ駄目ってさ、今時そんな校則あり？ 暑くて死んじゃうんですけど

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I can't believe Sho seriously ran out of my Killer Sauce. It's summer, this is when I want to eat spicy stuff." 翔ちゃん、オレのキラーソース切らしてんのマジあり得ないんだけど。夏こそ辛いもん食べたいのに

well maybe if you didn't dump so much of it on whatever you ate. . . .

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I keep telling Sho we should let off some fireworks and he keeps saying no! You want to do it too, don't you, Honor Roll?" 翔ちゃんに花火したいって言ってんのに、全然付き合ってくんないの！ 特待生サマも、やりたいもんね～？

One of Sho's summer lines references this:

"Leo won't shut up about wanting to let off fireworks, but no way am I doing that shit with him again. I'm sure you can guess why." 玲音が花火してぇってうるせぇんだけどよ、俺は二度とあいつとはやんねぇって決めてんの。わかんだろ？

I guess Leo isn't a very responsible fireworks user.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Yeah, apparently there's more anomalies around in summer. Statistically speaking. It's just fucking annoying more than anything else, really." ああ、なんかこの時期って、日本は怪異が増えるらしいね、統計的に。 普通にめんどくさいだけなんだけど

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Thought I could have some fun here at Japan's most elite educational institution. What a let down." 日本有数の名門校なんて言われて、期待して入ったのにさぁ。 結局この学園も、つまんないやつばっか

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Sports? Hard pass. I hate getting sweaty. Ask Sho instead." スポーツ？　パス。オレ、汗かくの嫌いなの。 翔ちゃんでも誘ってきなよ

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Sho hurt himself playing basketball? How unfortunate." 翔ちゃんがバスケ中に怪我した？ へぇ、そうなんだ。大変だね

He gives so few fucks about his best friend lmao then again they're ghouls, Sho'll probably be fine in like two hours.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Ugh, I want to go clubbing... We should make one in the Pit. Sinostra's got a casino, can't be that hard to get a permit." あ～クラブ行きて～…… いっそさ、地下改造して箱にしちゃうのどう？カジノがありなら余裕じゃない？

Leo pointing at sinostra: if the criminals in there can have a fucking casino there's no way it's hard to get a business permit here. They kill people like on a weekly basis and no one's shut them down. The standards must be in the ground.

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"This coat? Cute, right? I knew it'd look good on me, so I bought it." ああ、このアウター？可愛いっしょ。絶対オレに似合うと思って買ったんだ～♪

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm freezing... I'm having a carbonated bath tonight. Wanna join, Honor Roll? Of course I'm serious." あ～、さぶ。今日の風呂は強炭酸にしよ…… 特待生サマも一緒に入る？ 別に、マジで言ってんだけど

This one happens regardless of affinity which is kinda funny to think about. then again, Japanese bathhouse culture probably means that's not super weird if you have a tub big enough, maybe? Then again a bathhouse and just having a bath with someone are different things. I bet he has lots of baths with Sho.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hey, everyone! It's me! Ugh, my throat's all dry from the cold. I'll just stream tomorrow..." こんばんは。ＬＥＯだよ～！ ……やば、乾燥で喉死んでるわ。配信は明日にしとこ……

Of note here, Leo's online handle is just "LEO" in Japanese. In English his name probably had to be given just as Leo to prevent this being lost in translation, because his actual name, in kanji, is 玲音, which is pronounced "Reio"(the same as 'leo' but with an r). But "Leo" is stylized since Japanese doesn't have the L sound and the R sound is closest. So in Japanese he says "It's LEO!" whereas in English he just says "It's me!" since his handle and his name are the same. Although, as someone who follows streamers, introducing yourself again at the top of a stream isn't too uncommon i think? But I also don't watch the influencer types, so the culture is probably very different haha.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The ghouls won't listen to you? No shit. You realize we were hand-picked by demons, right?" グールが言うこと聞いてくれない？そんなの当たり前でしょ。 だって、オレたち悪魔に選ばれた人間よ？

He's one of the only ones who mentions something like this on the homescreen(off the top of my head Haku is the other one who really mentions how none of them are normal). And he's absolutely right--they were chosen by demons, made pacts with those demons, and ultimately overcame them somehow. Most of them are gonna be kinda stubborn. A demon probably wouldn't choose someone who'd be influenced easily. . .except the demon who chose Kaito apparently. Probably just looking for easy pickings, that one. Or maybe Kaito wasn't always such a coward. . . .

His birthday (Year 1): (May 23rd)

"You got me a birthday present? Oh, thanks. Just put it over there, I'll look at it later.  I will, I promise." オレに誕生日プレゼント？　あ～、ありがと。そこらへん置いといて。 大丈夫だよ、後で見るってば

Rude ungrateful little shit lmaoooooo "yeah yeah my fans sent me a bunch of gifts already. I'll get to it."

His birthday (Year 2): (May 23rd)

"Yeah, it's my birthday. What do I want? …How about you give me your bank card?" そう、オレ今日誕生日なの。 なにが欲しいって？ ……じゃあ、キミのキャッシュカードちょ～だい♡

he's gonna be so jealous of that Taiga just hands you his wallet and goes 'get yourself something nice' lmao LEO YOU ARE A FAMOUS INFLUENCER AND A HACKER AND A SCAMMER YOU DO NOT HAVE TO ASK HER FOR MONEY LMAO i love him so much chat

Your birthday (Year 1):

"It's your birthday? I'll help you celebrate.  Meet me behind the garage later." へぇ。今日キミ、誕生日なんだ。 そうだ……オレが祝ってあげる♡後でガレージの裏においで

Your birthday (Year 2):

"Hey, Honor Roll. Heard it's your bday. I'll make you one of those surprise birthday videos. Shut up, just go stand over there." ねぇ特待生サマ。今日キミの誕生日らしいね♡ 　じゃ、サプライズ動画撮るから。 うるさい。そこ立って

i know the surprise is probably whatever the gift is and not the video itself but when he announces it it sounds like so much less of a surprise lmaoooo and then he's snippy with you like you are not going to ruin my video for you

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year! I prefer digital payment.  What do you mean, what do I mean? I'll be nice to you again this year, so pay up." ハッピーニューイヤー♪　はい！ なにって……今年も仲良くしてあげるから、お年玉ちょ～だい？

He's referencing otoshidama, money you're given on new years(usually as a child) but it sounds like you've just got a recurring subscription to Leo's friendship lmaoooo "We can still be friends, so compensate me monetarily" lolol i swear if he weren't vice captain i wouldn't be surprised if he eventually transferred to Sinostra in his second or third year. I think he'd fit in.

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"This is that ultra-spicy chocolate they only sell this time of year... I'm actually genuinely stoked right now." これ、毎年この時期にしか買えない激辛生チョコレートじゃん…… え、普通に嬉しいんだけど

White Day: (March 14th)

"Here, as thanks for the chocolate. You're not going to tell me you don't know Godiva, are you? All right, now we're even." はい、これお返し。キミ……まさかゴディバ知らないわけないよね？ じゃ、これで貸し借りはチャラね

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Ha ha. You were photobombing one of my pics so I uploaded it and said I had a new girlfriend. 10K interacts in less than an hour. Suckers." あはは。新しく彼女できましたって特待生サマのこと匂わせたら、一瞬で万バズしたんだけど。嘘なのに～

Comments section like "gee Leo how come your boyfriend lets you have two partners?"

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Trick or treat!  Ugh, the only good thing about this dumb event is the video content it provides." トリックオアトリート！ 　って……こんなくだらないイベント、動画のネタになるだけマシなんだけどさぁ

Not much of a halloween guy. . .even though this is Sho's halloween dialogue???

"You really need an explanation? Leo made me wear it! Shit, why am I always the girl..." ああ？　言わなくてもわかんだろ。玲音に着せられたんだっつの！ クソ、なんで毎年女装なんだよ……

You're making your boyfriend best friend crossdress for your halloween vids? When you don't even like Halloween? And this is a REGULAR occurrence??? Like I get that he doesn't like sweets I guess but lmaoooo

Christmas: (December 25th)

"This Christmas-themed food Sho made might pull some traffic.  All right, uploaded. You can eat the rest, Honor Roll. Say "ah"!" 翔ちゃんのクリスマス映えごはん、適当にあげて…… はい終わり。後は特待生サマが食べてね。あ～ん♡

what you want him to eat all of that? and mess up his figure?

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Was that on purpose?  Are you seriously ignoring me right now?" あのさ、それわざと？ キミ今、オレのこと無視してるよね？

(13 affinity and above)

"Ugh, everyone's so loud.  I'm putting my headphones on, so tap here if you need me, okay?" はぁ……どこもうるさ…… オレ音楽聴いてるから、なんかあったらここ触って呼んでね～♡

oh no he's becoming self aware i like that he's not like. 'hey pay attention to me!!' instead he's like 'okay we can sit here in silence that's fine, i'm gonna listen to music so if you want something let me know'. Parallel play with Leo! He's content to just vibe out with you--and he likes you enough that he'll give you attention if you ask too.

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Who are you? Ah ha ha! I'm kidding. Have you got a good excuse for why you've been gone so long?" ……キミ、誰？ ……あはは！冗談だよ。 で、しばらく来なかった言い訳、ちゃんと用意してきた？

MAN THAT TOOK A LONG TIME. He really just has a lot of personality lol or maybe i just like his personality a lot? Either way I like a bunch of his lines so that's honestly like 90% of them. Bit of a goober. I'll do Sho's in a few hours! Since i already have his japanese file open from doing Leo's lol this is now all of his lines, and Sho's is partially done as well as of writing this! I love Leo so much haha

[agaypanic]

Enemies to lovers with Chase: he’s obviously a bionic genius but after being enrolled in school he develops a rivalry with the smartest girl in school and he’s constantly competing with her until they get partnered for a project and realize how much they actually like each other.

Swear Not By The Moon (Chase Davenport X Reader)

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Summary: Being a man with bionic super smarts, Chase excelled at everything and was always ahead of everyone. When he first started going to Mission Creek High, he unknowingly became rivals with you, the smartest girl in school. When you have to work together on a project, you realize that Chase Davenport might not be so bad.

A/N: the davenport siblings each have their own room bc (can’t remember if its canon but i dont think it is) i feel like after starting school, they’d get real rooms in case they had friends over and whatever. title inspired by romeo and juliet dialogue teehee. idk if this is giving good academic rivals but i tried lmao

***

It was completely unintentional, Chase constantly competing with you at school. He had bionic super smarts, so it was inevitable that he would climb to the top of the food chain. Academically speaking, of course. 

But before him, you dominated everyone else around you. You had for years. So when Chase Davenport waltzed in and suddenly became the best academic student at Mission Creek High, you felt an intense need to put him in his place.

Because of your high placements, you shared all of your classes together. One AP or Honors class after another, you had to see that stupid grin on his stupid face as he got a question right or corrected a teacher’s mistake. Not that he saw, because he was too busy putting his nose in books, reading chapters ahead of where the class was in the curriculum.

You figured the only way to beat him was to study your ass off. You already devoted a lot of your time to your studies, but that felt like child’s play compared to now. You had your lunch in the library, sneakily taking bites of food so the librarian would see you eating. As soon as you got home, you’d study for at least an hour. Sometimes, you’d even do some reading in the morning before you had to leave the house for school.

Chase finally seemed to notice you when one of your teachers posted the results of your latest tests. He was bewildered to see that someone had scored one point more than him. He looked around the class to try and figure out who it was, and when he saw you smirking at your grade, he knew it was you.

The silent competition between the two of you didn’t stop. Now that Chase was aware that you were rivaling him, he doubled his efforts, no matter how much teasing he got from his siblings. 

Then, one day, the rivalry wasn’t so silent.

“Davenport.” You greeted him with a single word, not even looking at him. 

“L/n.”

The two of you stood next to each other, looking at the grades you and your classmates got on a recent midterm. You lifted a finger, letting it scan over the names until you got to Chase’s.

“One hundred percent! Very good.” You mused, and you could see him smirking out of the corner of your eye.

“It was nothing.” He said with a shrug.

“Now… what did I get?” You asked yourself quietly, moving your finger until you got to your name. You both gasped, you with feigned surprise and him with disbelief. “One hundred and one percent! Wow.”

“How did you…” You finally turned to look at Chase, smiling innocently at him. His mouth hung open slightly, and you couldn’t help but lift his chin to close it.

“Mrs. Roberts told us there’d be a chance for extra credit. I guess you should’ve been more thorough.” The pleasure you felt from seeing Chase’s reaction made the grueling hours of studying immensely worth it. “Better luck next time.”

You walked away, a bit of a pep in your step now. Chase stared at you until you were out of sight, and then he sneered.

“Oh, it is on.”

***

For the rest of the year, you and Chase battled to be at the top of your classes. Extracurriculars just made the fight more intense. You’d win first place at the local science fair, he’d win first place at a debate championship. When one of you placed first, the other grumbled with their second-place trophy and swore they would win gold the next time.

You were actually excited for the end of the school year. The little rivalry you had formed with Chase Davenport was starting to wear you out, although you’d never say that out loud. Especially to him. 

But before the school year could end, you had one more project for your history class. This time, you would be paired off with a classmate, and you’d have to work together to create a presentation on a specific era, highlighting important figures and events of the time.

“Please be someone good.” You muttered to yourself as your teacher read out the list of partners. Eventually, she got to you.

“Y/n L/n and Chase Davenport.”

You froze in your spot, not paying attention as she continued listing people before going into more detail on your project requirements. Your eyes darted to Chase, who was already looking at you. You couldn’t help but sneer at him. The one person you had a strong distaste for, an academic enemy, was now your partner on a month-long project that would greatly affect your final grade.

How could this go wrong?

“So…” The teacher gave you the last five minutes of class to talk to your partner. Chase stood next to your desk, looking down at you. “Do you want to go to your house or mine? For the project.”

“I don’t care.” You answered while packing your belongings into your backpack.

“How about my place then? We can go today after school.”

“Fine by me.”

***

You knew that the Davenports, their father to be more specific, were wealthy. But that information didn’t make you any less stunned when you saw the mansion at the end of your slightly uncomfortable and awkward walk with Chase. And you were even more taken aback when you walked inside. Sleek designs, attractive decor, and a beautiful view out of windows that made up an entire wall.

“We can go to my room,” Chase suggested as you took in your surroundings. “I have a lot of desk space there.”

“Okay.” You replied. You figured that the very least you could do was try to be civil with Chase. After all, this was an important grade, and you’d have to work with him for a whole month.

Chase pulled a stool to his desk for you to sit on while he settled into his desk chair. You took out your notebook and a pen, flipping to a blank page. Chase did the same.

“Do you have any ideas?” You asked, tapping the tip of your pen against the paper.

It took a while, but you eventually settled on the Elizabethan era. Considered a golden age and famous for different creative ventures such as theater and literature. It would be easy to fill a presentation with quality and interesting information. The two of you brainstormed different topics to bring up, writing them down in your notebooks when your pen suddenly stopped working.

“Damn.” You muttered, scribbling in the corner to try to get the ink to reappear.

“What’s wrong?” Chase asked, looking up from his paper to see you drop your pen in your bag and look around for a replacement.

“I ran out of ink.” You sighed in frustration, unable to find another writing utensil. You pulled your bag onto your lap for a closer look. “I swear I had-”

You cut yourself off when Chase’s hand came into view. He held a pen, waiting for you to take it. After a moment of hesitation, you grabbed it, setting your backpack down on the floor.

“Thanks.” You said, looking at the pen for a brief moment before getting back to writing.

***

Wanting to get as much useful information as possible, you decided to go to the library after school the next day. You didn’t know what Chase was doing, but you hoped that he would put as much effort into this as you were. 

You headed straight for the classics section, knowing that Shakespeare was prominent during the time period you and Chase were looking into. You’ve had to read a few of his plays for different English classes, but you were eager to read them again.

Searching the bookshelves, you soon saw that Shakespeare’s plays were on the top shelf, which you could reach without a step stool. There were a few scattered around the library, but a quick glance showed that there wasn’t one in your section. You went to the next book aisle, hoping to find one.

“Y/n?” Chase’s voice startled you. He was in the next aisle, seeing you before you saw him. Although surprised by your presence, he offered you a polite smile. “What are you doing here?”

You had to tell yourself to hold back a snarky response. Although you didn’t care much for Chase inside of school, that didn’t mean you had to be a bitch to him outside of it. Besides, he was being pleasant to you. It confused you, but you decided not to ask him about it.

“Same as you, I’m thinking.” You finally say, noticing some books about English history stacked in his hands. “I’m looking for a stool to get the books I need.”

Spotting one at the end of the aisle, Chase grabbed the stool, balancing the small pile of books he had in one hand.

“Where’s your books?” He asked, waiting for you to lead the way. It stunned you a little that he didn’t just give you the stool or let you grab it yourself, but you decided not to overthink it.

Back in your section, he set the stool down where you needed it. Instead of saying goodbye and leaving, Chase stood by the bookcase, watching you stand on the footstool.

You started grabbing books, becoming more excited with each title you looked over. Now, having your own stack of books, you looked down and tried to carefully lower yourself to the ground.

“Careful,” Chase murmured, and you felt the warmth of his hand hover against your back. He didn’t touch you, but his hand stayed close until you were stable on the ground. “Don’t wanna, you know, ruin the books if you fall.”

You rolled your eyes before looking up at Chase, not realizing how close you were to him until now.

“Thanks.” You said a bit hesitantly.

“No problem.” He responded. The two of you stood in silence, not knowing how to continue. You wondered if you’d keep having moments like this with him. No glares or sour thoughts. Just a bit of silence caused by some friendly action. “Do you wanna come over tomorrow?”

“What?” You asked, not expecting the question.

“For the project.” Chase clarified. 

“Oh. Sure, I think I’m free.”

“Great.” Chase smiled at you. “See you tomorrow then.”

***

You don’t know what was happening to you. It had been two weeks since you started working on this project with Chase, and he was gradually becoming the only thing on your mind. Sure, you thought about him often before this. But those thoughts were always accompanied by feelings of annoyance when he’d get a higher grade than you or disgust when he’d give you his signature smirk of condescension. 

What you felt now was something hard to describe. It was something warm and enjoyable, but as enjoyable as it was, it made you slightly dread seeing Chase because you didn’t know what the feeling meant. 

He didn’t even have to be around you for you to feel it. The other day you remembered that you still had the pen he let you borrow the first time you worked together. Looking at the pen and thinking about the memory made you smile, which you covered with your hand as you wondered why the small object got such a reaction out of you.

Suddenly remembering where you were, you pushed thoughts of Chase and the pen and how he was starting to make you feel out of your mind. You had to focus.

You were sat on Chase’s bed, supposed to be rereading Romeo and Juliet until you got distracted by your thoughts. Chase was at his desk, skimming through a history textbook. You played with the edge of the page you were on, about to return to reading, when Chase looked over his shoulder at you.

“You know, I’m surprised you’re still reading that.” He said, leaning back in his chair, deciding to take a break from studying. “Big, old-timey words. Thought that’d be too strenuous for you to handle.”

That was another change you noticed. You still poked and teased at each other. But lately, when Chase would do it, your cheeks would grow hot from some kind of feeling that was entirely unlike the anger and annoyance you usually felt.

“Very funny.” You deadpanned, yet you couldn’t help but smile a tiny bit. “I’m surprised you even know the meaning of the word ‘strenuous.’ Considering your size, you’d think your brain would be just as tiny.”

Chase kicked at your leg, rolling his eyes as you laughed. 

“You’re hilarious.” He said, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Seriously, though, I don’t know how you’re not bored of that by now. Especially since you’ve read it before.”

“It’s considered a classic for a reason, Chase.” You said. “I mean, I obviously have problems with the story, like the age gap and the suicide without really checking if Juliet is dead. But you have to admit that some of the writing’s nice. Beautiful even.” You shifted into a more comfortable position. “I mean, listen to this. ‘O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.’” Before you could continue, Chase interrupted you.

“‘What shall I swear by?’” He recited, standing from his desk chair and moving to lay down on his side, a foot or two away from you. You looked at him with a questioning look. 

“Since when could you recite Shakespeare?”

“I dunno, just can.” He answered with a shrug. “Keep going.”

You looked at him curiously for a few more seconds before turning back to the book.

“‘Do not swear at all; or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I’ll believe thee.’”

“‘If my heart’s dear love-’”

“‘Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be ere one can say ‘It lightens.’ Sweet, good night!’” You paused to catch your breath, and you felt Chase’s eyes on you. Either you were crazy, or he was slowly inching closer to you. He looked at you expectantly but patiently, and you took another deep breath before returning to the page. “‘This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest come to thy heart as that within my breast!’”

Chase was even closer to you now, using his hands to keep himself stable as he raised from his laying position. Without meaning to, you leaned forward, closing the already shortening distance between you.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?’” Chase’s voice was quiet, but the words rang in your ears. You must have imagined it, you must have, but you could’ve sworn that for a second, his eyes were on your lips instead of locking with yours.

“‘What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?’” You recited softly. But you started to have a feeling that this was becoming less of a recitation and more of something else. Some kind of confession, you secretly hoped, disguised as casual quoting of someone else’s words of romance.

“‘The exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.”’

“‘I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: and yet I would it were to give again.’” As you spoke the words, you realized that they indeed rang with truth. 

Chase was now fully sitting up, and your breath hitched when you felt his hand snake around you to cup the back of your neck. You dropped the book in your lap, gaze fully fixated on his.

“‘Wouldst thou withdraw it?”’ Chase asked, using his other hand to hold your cheek, thumb sweeping over the bone. “‘For what purpose, love?’”

“I like when you call me that.” You whispered, too overwhelmed by his hands to continue reading the play.

“That’s not the line,” Chase responded, smiling before pulling your face to his and kissing you. 

It was soft at first, as if you were both scared the other would realize they didn’t want this. But when that passed, the tension from the past two weeks, honestly the past year, made you hungry for each other. It wasn’t long until you were straddling Chase’s lap, book and project long forgotten. Chase’s hands trailed down your body, squeezing your hips before pulling away just enough to speak.

“So…” He started, needing to catch his breath. “Am I the god of your idolatry?” 

You giggled, slapping his shoulder before wrapping your arms around them.

“I’m surprised you know how to pronounce ‘idolatry.’” Chase squeezed your hip once more at your teasing before kissing you again.

[tequilai]

TELEVANGELISM

DEAN WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

CHAPTER 1

PRÉCIS: There’s a new pastor in town. He’s young and handsome, but you can’t deny his faith—especially not after he helps your father get sober, right? But there's just something off about him

WARNINGS: dark fic, vamp!dean, father(pastor)!dean, religion, age gap, coercion, blasphemy, corruption, manipulation, dean is not really in his right body/mind as he’s a vamp, also not even a real priest.

A/N: I listened to Televangelism by ethel cain on repeat every time i wrote more for this and i urge you to do the same. It fits so well and it's so good and it really put me in the setting just from the music. This also took sooo goddamn long because i was debating on turning it into chapters or just a one parter... that being said CHAPTER 1!! PLS LMK IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES

That rabid dog. That rabid dog woke you up every morning at the ripe time of seven o’clock. Howling, barking, and foaming at the mouth for nothing. That rabid dog who growled as you passed by. The only thing keeping him from pouncing on you and mauling you to death was the tight chain secured around his neck, the same chain that was so snug against the weeping willow tree in the yard. You’re sure that if that rabid dog were smart enough, he would run around that tree fast enough to cut it down with just his chain.

Six years, that rabid dog has woken you up every morning faithfully at seven, but not on Sunday, no. On Sunday, he woke you up at nine, two hours before service would start, two hours before you would sit in those hard wooden pews, two hours before your daddy would swear on God's name at the confessional he would stop drinking, only to never stay faithful to his words. The same daddy who would kiss your head with his whiskey breath and make you swear to always be the good girl you are. You loved your daddy, but you couldn’t lie, especially when you would pray, pray for forgiveness on his behalf, pray for the lord to forgive him for that night with your mother.

When the news broke out that the church’s father had disappeared into the night, the only trace left was his blood splattered across the rotting wood of the church. You were devastated. He was as old as your daddy. He had sunken eyes and a yellowed, wooden-looking smile. His wife and three children attended the funeral, of course. Their shared tears and pleas for God to bring him back from the grave rang in your ears for the entire service.

You could almost smell the chemicals flowing through his body from the formaldehyde, almost like he was dipped in it instead of filled with it, but you couldn’t pay attention to that anymore. Not when the new priest, Father Winchester, walked in. He was to take the place of Father Murphy and have the honor of speaking at his funeral and introducing himself. You had heard whispers and gossip around town about him, how he was handsome, how young he was- how they’d never heard of him before in their lives. He was a mystery, but he would be the new priest until the church decided otherwise; considering how Mrs. Murphy was staring at him from her seat, you don’t think he’ll be going soon.

The old church was dimly lit, with one old and ugly stained glass window front and center behind the altar and choir, illuminating patterns all across the room. There was always a smell of dust, no matter how clean the church was- it smelled old, it looked old, and it creaked as if it was built two thousand years ago with the same wood they nailed Jesus to the cross with. The man's heavy footsteps let out a whine and creak on the cold wooden floor as he approached the altar. He didn’t look like a priest. He didn’t move like one either. There was no gentleness in him, no warm smile or soft voice to lean on. He looked like someone who’d been in a fight right before walking in. And won. The soft murmurs of the congregation filled the space, accompanied by occasional coughs and that wretched creak of the pews. Mrs. Murphy's children sat painfully still in their seats, their heads hung low as they refused to meet the eyes of the man who would soon replace their father. Father Winchester took this silence to look at his audience, his eye contact almost painful as he met eyes with almost everyone in the church. He grunted as he cleared his throat; you swear you could've heard an ant run by with how eerily quiet the church became.

“I regret that I would have to meet all of you under these circumstances, but I am extremely grateful that I get to be here today.” He pauses, meeting eyes with the church again, but this time his eyes flicker toward the back where you sat, and they keep coming back to you during his entire speech.

“Not only am I here to introduce myself with hopes that you all welcome me into your sacred church with open arms, I am here to remember the late Father Murphy” The sniffling starts- the sniffling from Mrs. Murphy that you think is simply just for petty brownie points that she would even care enough to shed a tear at her husband's funeral.

Every time his eyes meet yours, you fight not to call your daddy to sit with you. Usually, you beg him not to come in, as you’re sure that the gossip will only get louder and stronger about him being a raging drunk. He only agrees with a deep sadness in his eyes, promising you once again that he’ll get better- a lie. This time, though, you long for him and want him to give the meanest look he can to Father Winchester for ogling you.

Eventually, you stop listening to his praises, not that it made sense anyway, and start eyeing him too, not for the same reasons he was eyeing you, but to look at him with a fresh eye. He was handsome- you couldn’t deny that if you tried. He had short brown hair with beautiful but striking green eyes, and a short and scruffy beard, accompanied by his strong jawline. Tall- about as tall as your daddy, but Father Winchester had muscles that could probably kill a man. He stood tall and confident, almost cocky, but he was still young. Younger than your daddy, but older than you- maybe by twelve years or so.

As church ended, people lined up to meet the new priest. You couldn’t even be bothered, it was ungodly for you to do so, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with Father Winchester, something that made your bones clack in your body. You’re sure your Irish goodbye goes unnoticed as you sit in the back of the church, but the moment you opened those damned wooden doors, your daddy stood on the grass field outside of the church, smoking his cigarette before he looks up at you- the only one, coming out of the church doors. He hacks up something in his lungs before looking up at you with a look of confusion. This was out of the ordinary for you. He was used to the previous routine. He would hear the chatter inside the church and know that service was finally over. That gave you seven minutes to say goodbye and hug everyone while they wished you and your father well.

“What you doin’ baby?” Your dad's voice shows nothing but concern as he looks you up and down. Maybe you started your monthly in church? Wanting to get out as soon as anyone saw the red staining the back of your beautiful peachy dress. Hell- he didn’t know, but he knew something was wrong. He knew because never in the twenty-three years you’ve been at church, even as an infant cradled in your momma's arms, you always stayed for a little while longer.

“Nothing, Daddy- jus’ wanna go home, I'm not feeling well.” You felt horrible lying to him. You can’t believe you mustered up the pathetic courage to lie to him on church grounds. Your dad looked at you for a beat- and then two before he lifted the almost orange butt of his cigarette to his lips, sucking in the last bit of tobacco before he flicked the cigarette into the grass. He looked down at his button-up shirt, dusting off the bits of ash that had fallen on his shirt earlier, and he looked up at you again.

“You can go sit in the truck, 'm gonna say somethin’ to the new priest.” You felt your whole body shiver, and you looked up from staring at your feet, a subtle pout on your lips as you spoke.”

"But, Daddy, I-"

“Quit it. Go sit in the truck, I’ll only be a minute.” Your face frowns into an angry expression before you stomp past him to the truck, listening to the hinges and springs scream at you as you open the door. As soon as you place your bible in the middle of the bench seat, you reach over to the door handle, pulling it as hard as you can and slamming the truck door- something your daddy was sure to chew you out about later.

Your father continues to look at you for a beat before he faces forward, shaking his head and grumbling something under his breath as he heads inside the church. The old beat-up truck reeks of cigarettes, and the stench sticks to your clothes like syrup. He always made sure not to smoke on the way to church, trying to maintain the sickly sweet perfume he spent so much on at the department store.

You tried to be mad. Mad at your daddy, mad at the church, mad at whatever that thing was staring at you from the pulpit. But you were tired. And scared. And maybe a little curious. With a sigh and a childish thrash, you grip the crank on the side of your door and, frustratedly, turn the handle to roll the window down with a huff. You rested your cheek against the warm metal of the door and looked out the window, watching the church doors, waiting for your father to return. He was a smart man, surely; he felt the destructive energy from Father Winchester just as you did. Unfortunately, your own body betrays you, and you start to feel sleepy, the pleasant breeze from the window not helping to aid your urgency to stay awake.

A thud on your side of the door jolts you awake, your heart leaping into your throat. Your eyes snap open, blurry with sleep, only to find Father Winchester's face inches from yours through the open window. His green eyes are fixed on you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"Sorry I scared you, sweetheart," he says, his voice smooth as the skin on his face, a smirk finding its way to his lips. "Your father wants to tell you something." He nods his head to the other side of the truck, where your dad opens his door. His hat was long gone from his head as his arm bent to hold it to his chest; he looked softer somehow, more kind.

“I’m quittin' for good, baby. This time I mean it.” You looked at your daddy’s face—really looked. And something about the way his hands shook, the way his voice caught—it made you believe him. Almost. Then you looked back at Father Winchester. He held your daddy’s cigarette pack in his hand like a trophy. “He’s done with these, too,” Father Winchester said. He smiles when he says it, but it’s not a normal smile. Not the kind that lifts your heart. It’s too slow. Too wide. And when the sunlight hits him just right, you could swear his teeth look too sharp. “I believe he’s ready. God’s got him now.” He looked at you when he said it. And you nod, because what else are you supposed to do? Because you want to believe your daddy. You need to.

Father Winchester doesn’t take his eyes off you. “I see something in you, too. Something sinful. An addiction of sorts.”

Your heart knocks once—hard. “I want you to come by the church tomorrow,” he says. “Just you. If your father’s busy, I’ll make sure you get home safe.” You open your mouth to lie—to tell him you’ve got class, or errands, or anything to keep from being alone in that church with him. But before a single word makes it out, your daddy cuts in.

“I’ll bring her,” he says, nodding like it’s already been decided. “Long as you make sure she gets back safe. I gotta head to work.” Your eyes dart to your daddy like he just handed you off. But he’s not even looking at you. He’s looking at Father Winchester’s car—a sleek, black Impala parked on the grass.

“Nice car,” he mutters.

“Thank you,” Father Winchester says, and he looks so damn proud you want to knock his jaw loose. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” He taps the side of the truck twice, fingers lingering just long enough to make your skin crawl. Then he turns and walks away, slow and easy, like he’s got all the time in the world. He doesn’t look back. But you do. And you get this awful, sinking feeling—like tomorrow’s already swallowed you whole.