#I hate thinking about them losing the mc

[chaotic-kitty]

Spoilers for Nightbringer hard mode story.

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[dreamingpine]

brain worms

[nanamiscocksleeve]

LADS Men With a Plus Size Reader

Warnings: None! This is actually very fluffy! Maybe PG13 at most! (OMG NCS, no smut?!😲😲😲) A/N: Finally, got around to writing one of the promised headcanons! Now, allow me to be clear here. The amount of customization the game allows is incredible but MC is a little bit on the smaller side, and I would have loved to see an option for a more robust body build. The same way there are naturally thin and petite women, there are also bigger and more rounded women as well and I think there was an opportunity lost there. Anyone that tries to hate on this will be blocked immediately.

Zayne:

Zayne’s large hand envelopes yours as you walk to the cafe he’d recommended. You knew it was popular amongst the hospital staff and weren’t surprised to see familiar faces; one of the tables was completely occupied by some of Zayne’s surgical nurses. 

“Why don’t you get a table?” Zayne brushes a kiss on top of your hair. “And I’ll get the food. Do you still want a hazelnut latte with your cake?”

“Yes please!” Zayne’s eyes fill with warmth as he squeezes your hand before walking towards the cashier. You wander over and pick a table near the nurses. You take out your phone and start to browse Instagram when a snide voice is heard from the table behind you. 

“Gross.”

You freeze but don’t dare turn around. Maybe it wasn’t directed at you. 

“That’s Dr. Zayne’s girlfriend?”

Shit it was.

“Why is he with that porker?”

“You’d think a man like that would have better taste.”

“I heard that they were childhood friends. He’s probably dating her out of pity.”

Even as your blood rages, you feel tears pricking the backs of your eyes. Were they aware you could hear them? And they had just said your worst fears out loud; that Zayne was dating you as a favor, not because he was actually into you. It was an old insecurity you hadn’t really grown out of. You startle slightly as Zayne suddenly sits down opposite you, food and beverages in hand. He sets down your coffee and cake while taking his own plate and tea off the tray.

“Why are you so upset?” He immediately observes the distress on your face and the way your eyes are glistening. You shake your head and dab at your eyes with a napkin, Zayne watching you intently. The cute slice of cake he’s gotten for you sits temptingly in line with your vision but right now it might as well be a lump of clay, all appetite for it gone. 

Zayne’s eyes flick to the cake and back to you. “Did I get the wrong one?”

You’re about to shake your head no when the conversation at the table behind you picks up again. Clearly, they hadn’t noticed Zayne sitting down. 

“He deserves so much more than that blob. There are so many attractive women at the hospital.”

“I agree. He could get anyone he wanted. Someone who actually takes care of their health and watches their figure.”

Shame fills you and you’re unable to look at Zayne in the eyes, knowing he had heard them, even though you know it was far from the truth. You ate all your vegetables and exercised frequently. But your body just refused to slim down no matter what you did. No matter how much you tried to lose weight, the weight just didn’t want to lose you. You’re about to get up and leave when Zayne speaks up, loud and clear, in a scathing tone. 

“Right, because weight is the only indicator of a person’s health, isn’t it?” Zayne’s words drip with sarcasm. 

The entire nurses’ table jumps at his voice, turning around to look at him.

“Oh, Dr. Zayne! We weren’t-”

“I don’t care what you weren’t doing. Do not talk about anyone that way, patient or not. Were you not taught compassion as part of your medical training? Or is it reserved for people who look a certain way?” His eyes are narrowed and the table looks tense. One by one the nurses start to get up, quietly murmuring apologies to him as they exit the cafe. 

Zayne watches them go, anger still visible in his eyes before turning his attention back to you. His hand covers yours on top of the table. “Are you all right?”

You sniff. “I try. You know I try. I cook all my meals. I exercise. We work out together. But I can’t get the weight to go away.” 

“No sweetheart. I know how much you take care of yourself.” Zayne reaches across the table to wipe your tears. “You do not have to lose any weight. You’re perfectly healthy, and as long as that’s clear, nothing else matters.”

“You’re not dating me out of pity?” You look at him uncertainly. 

“Pity?” Zayne chuckles in disbelief. “Darling when you first started coming to my office I was sure you were out of my league.” His thumb strokes your hand reassuringly.

“You’re so amazing. Talented, compassionate, considerate. And all those things will always matter more to me than anything else.”

He looks at your neglected slice of cake. “Now don’t take out your sadness on the dessert. If you don’t finish it in 5 minutes, it’s mine.”

Rafayel:

You grip your wrap firmly around your shoulders, stepping with grace into the dazzling venue. You never missed Rafayel’s shows if you could help it but this time around, you had a skin in the game. Literally.

One night after a round of passionate lovemaking, you had woken to find Rafayel painting, and when you saw what he was working on, you’d blushed and smacked him on the shoulder.

There, in the brush strokes, he had painted you sleeping on his bed, your hair in disarray as it cascaded down your back, your face buried into the pillow and not quite visible. The sheets covered you modestly but the wide curve of your hips, the pudges of fat at your side, and the bra rolls under your arms were all painted with clarity and you found you couldn’t look at it. A feeling of unease had settled in your stomach. Was this the way your boyfriend viewed you?

You had brought it up to Rafayel in a small voice. “Do you think I’m fat?”

Your heart sank as Rafayel’s face, which had been so soft, a curve in his lips as he had painted, changed into a mask of dismay. “Fat?” he had asked, looking quite upset. “Where in this painting have I made you look fat?”

“Here. And here.” You point out the areas and Rafayel pulls you against him, holding you fiercely. 

“Cutie, I swear to God I’m just painting you as you are. I don’t think you look fat at all. I’m just painting my beautiful girlfriend in all her glory.” Crushed against his chest, you try to talk. 

“But, most women in paintings don’t look like that, they have smaller hips and thighs and mine look so…ugly.”

You thought Rafayel’s heart might have broken as he heard your word of choice. “There’s nothing about you that’s ugly. None of this is ugly. It’s a body. Your body. And baby I love every inch of it exactly as it is. I didn’t mean to make you sad while I painted all the pretty little pieces of you that make you whole.” His hands trace your sides, squeezing you reassuringly. 

“There’s so much beauty in you baby. That’s all I see in this painting. You’ll always be the biggest masterpiece in my life.”

Knowing he held you in such high esteem had done wonders for your confidence, which was what you were trying to emulate as you walked into the gallery. Rafayel had hesitantly asked for your permission to showcase that painting for this show, promising he’d never use it without your consent. Nervous as you were, part of you was actually thrilled that it was going to be used. It was difficult to make out who the subject in the portrait was since your face wasn’t entirely visible. 

Still, it felt like an out-of-body experience as you approached the hung canvas, observing the crowd that flocked to it. Some people nodded at it quietly before moving on, others commented under their breath that Rafayel should have chosen a more appropriate model. 

“Can you imagine this woman being naked in his bed?” One of them asked and her friends snickered sycophantically. “He must have been drunk or something.”

“And why is that?” You turn in time to see Rafayel, dressed sharply in a couture outfit approach you and pull you to his side, his hand resting possessively on the jut of your hip. The woman backpedals.

“Mr. Rafayel! I mean, obviously, your work is unique but I can’t help but wonder what you might have been trying to convey when you painted someone with such a…heavy structure.”

Rafayel pretends to consider her words. “I suppose…people have different views on what beauty is. All I was trying to convey was how much I loved the person in the painting. Anyone that doesn’t see the beauty in this particular painting, well I’m afraid they have poor taste.”

Grinning at the affronted look on her face, Rafayel whisks you away, but not before you throw her a smug smirk over your shoulder. 

Sylus:

Who knew underground mafia bosses loved their parties as much as their money? As strange as it was, the cliques had started becoming familiar with you hanging around. Anytime Sylus was invited to a gathering, it was expected that you were his plus one. While most of the men entertained polite conversation with you, it was no secret how coveted Sylus was by the women in the N109 zone. 

They wrinkled their noses as you walked by, your head held high, knowing you shouldn’t let their words get to you but it was hard. You tell the bartender your order and put a $100 bill into the tip jar. After all, you couldn’t embarrass Sylus by handing out a miserly tip when he was supposed to be the richest man here.

You knew you looked good enough to kill; Sylus had chosen the gown you were wearing himself, even hiring a personal tailor to fit the dress to flaunt your best assets and a thick choker of diamonds glittered on your neck. The plunging V-line of the dress showed off a tempting display of creamy cleavage, the bodice of the dress pushing up your impressive bosom. The material crept over your belly and hips, your fupa visible a little more than you would have liked but Sylus had refused to hear otherwise. You remember the way his hands had caressed the bulge of fat after helping you zip up the gown, his low, contented, purr ringing in your ears.

“Kitten, you’re going to be every man’s envy tonight. How delightful that I get to flaunt you as mine.”  

A group of women, all model-thin and gorgeous, approach the bar, their cold eyes fixed on you, wearing smiles that could cut glass. Your fingers drum nervously on the counter as you try to ignore them. One of the women spies the tip you had put in and jerks her chin at you, her lips twisting into what looks like a sneer. 

“So Sylus has the money to let you throw around $100 bills into tip jars. I wonder…” She pauses and the group draws collectively closer like a cackle of hyenas. “Wouldn’t his finances be more wisely spent on other avenues?”

“Such as?” You ask carefully.

“A good plastic surgeon perhaps? Lord knows you could use some liposuction in more places than one.” Her entourage leers at you while covering their mouths to stifle their laughter.

Your back stiffens and your eyes widen in shock. You resist the urge to cover your middle. You knew you should have pushed harder to have the gown loosened. Your fupa, the soft squidge that bulged under the material of the dress…it was a mistake thinking you could attend a party with it showing up so obviously. 

A million retorts form in your head but they all die weakly on your tongue. You had no defense, and you felt pathetic that you were sitting here and taking their abuse but your mind felt frozen, like you couldn’t plan your next move. 

“How did you ever think that someone like you could pull off a dress like that?” The woman presses, her eyes boring into yours. Your pulse quickens as you try to find a way to escape.

“You’re right, she can’t pull off a dress like that.” A rich, deep voice answers the woman who pales as she sees Sylus drape his arm possessively around your shoulders. “It’ll wrinkle. That’s why I’ll be pulling it off for her as soon as we get home.”

His eyes flash scarlet as he signals to the bartender, who immediately starts pouring him a drink and expediting your cocktail, setting both glasses on coasters in front of you. You flush but try not to look too pleased as you take a sip, feeling the alcohol loosen you. 

“Mr. Sylus.” The woman’s voice changes immediately and she steps back. “We were just talking about fashion.” she fibs hastily, trying to cover up her reason for using the word ‘dress’.

“Fashion?” Sylus looks at her patronizingly. “Do tell.”

Caught, she wets her lips before saying, “Oh we were talking about jeans and how they never fit or have pockets-”

“Hmm. I can understand these problems. After all, jeans without pockets are like women without curves…there’s nowhere to put your hands.” His broad hand shifts to your hip, his fingers subtly signaling it is time for you to go. You pick up your glass and Sylus holds onto you firmly as you walk back to the crowd. 

Xavier:

You’re sweaty as you and Xavier walk back from the office gym to the locker rooms. Xavier drinks from his water bottle, swallowing zealously. “I think we’ve exercised enough for a whole week,” he says as you walk. You laugh and shake your head.

“We only did a half hour of cardio!”

“Yeah, but we lifted all those weights too! In fact, my muscles already feel stronger.” Xavier flexes his arm and a visible bicep forms, making you grin. 

“Oh so strong,” you say as you reach out to squeeze. Xavier winces slightly and you quickly withdraw. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok. I’m a little sore.” You reach the locker rooms.“I’ll wait for you outside.”

You nod and he disappears into the men's locker room. You wander into the women’s, undo the lock, and retrieve your bag, finding a stall to change your clothes. You peel off your damp leggings which stick to your plushy thighs and you drag them down, sighing in relief as the skin jiggles freely in the cool air after being stuffed in the heat of polyester for so long. 

The skin on your butt and stomach are dimpled, something you’d come to terms with. You recall how nervous you’d been to let Xavier see you in a bathing suit at the pool but now you barely glance at them. 

“It’s like your skin is smiling at me when I kiss it.” 

That’s what Xavier had said as he kissed the soft flesh lovingly. Who could possibly feel self-conscious after that analogy? As you fold away the sweaty clothes into a garment bag, you hear several of the other changing room doors open and a group of voices fills the locker room as you change. You normally wouldn’t have paid attention but you freeze when you hear Xavier’s name.

“Why do you think Xavier works out with her of all people?”

“I know! They workout together like almost everyday and she hasn’t lost any weight!”

“She probably lacks the discipline to go on a real diet. It doesn’t matter how much she exercises, that fat isn’t going to go away if she doesn’t eat healthier.”

“Xavier really needs to find a better workout buddy. She only slows him down.”

Your heart clenches in your chest as you hear the cruel commentary. How dare these women talk about your body like it was a source of entertainment for them? Both rage and sorrow fills you as you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Suddenly all you can see are the flaws.

How cute, to call cellulite ‘dimpled skin’ like it was something to be adored. You stare at the lumpy skin, at the way your stomach and arms have stretch marks everywhere, the way your skin bulges over the band of your bra. You wait in silence as the women finish their chat and you hear them exit the locker room.

After what seemed like ages, you finally finish dressing and leave the changing room feeling humiliated. The post-workout glow had all but vanished from your system and you couldn’t shake off the feeling of being perceived like a huge, hulking, ogre; built big and lumberingly, not at all cute like the princess Xavier claimed you were. You leave the dressing room, then stare in disbelief as the same group of women crowd around Xavier as he waits for you. You lurk, not wanting to be seen, then one of the women speaks up.

“Xavier, if you’re looking for another workout buddy I’d be happy to tag along.” One of them chirps perkily.

Xavier chuckles politely and shakes his head. “Thank you, but no. I have a workout buddy.”

“Oh cmon Xavier, don’t you think you need someone who can challenge you a little more?”

“I do actually. That’s why I work out with her.”

“Does she really challenge you?”

“I think she challenges me more than you. Didn't you finish last in the company relay race?” The woman’s face falls and your heart skips a beat. 

“And you,” Xavier says as he turns to face another woman. “Forgive me if I’m wrong but you struggle to push anything more than 75 pounds. My workout buddy does 150 easily. She’s very strong. Perhaps you might benefit from training with her.” The second woman looks offended even as she’s being chastised. 

Feeling your confidence soar, you skip over to Xavier feeling as light as a feather. Xavier’s eyes light up as you approach. “Ladies,” you say smugly to their scandalized faces before pulling Xavier away from them, holding his arm as you walk away. 

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[heartlesscorpse]

Mr. Gap as Your Portable BF!

Welp, the people wanted Mr. Gap so I give Mr. Gap HCs (I’ll do Mr. Silvair another time, maybe this Friday or smth), I’m gonna do both a switch of MC and Mr. Gap in the Otherworld and maybe do some sorta twist towards the end like the Blissful Love Life ending from Mr. Crawling’s route except Mr. Gap became a stowaway fbejbfjsndjbsd

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Gap being the fucking prankster he is, always doing the 'funny haha' because he thinks it hilarious just having a pair of organs for literally no reason. It gets hella annoying at times but HEY! He can be pretty helpful at times.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Gap is a bit of a braggart I mean like— the guy literally showed you a little newspaper clipping with his face in the photo and just dipped without another explanation.

⭑.ᐟ — Because Mr. Gap’s pretty much able to go wherever he pleases since he’s popping outta nowhere from the holes in the wall, a box, and literally anything that has a gap in it. So he’s got an eye on you at all times even when you least expect it, mostly just watching from places that’s out of your view.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Gap probably doesn’t like Mr. Scarletella much, the guy’s pretty weird anyhow for actively tracking you in the Ghost Apartments, so he may give a hand every now and then whenever you run into him. If you’re ever near any places with a hole in the wall or a vent of course.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Gap the first time he’s getting any affection whether they’re like small kisses, head pats, or you try to hug him, he would be a little against them at first tbh. Then he’d disappear for some time then and the next time he shows up he’s asking for kisses or whatever. Major cat behaviour stuff.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Gap probably appears under the covers whenever you’re dead asleep just to leech off of your warmth, by the time you’re waking up he’s already gone.

⭑.ᐟ — It’s somewhat better than Mr. Gap asking if he could take your fingers, your heart, or any of your body parts, but don’t think he’s gonna stop asking for those.

⭑.ᐟ — Your whole relationship with Mr. Gap at first is kind of questionable at best, there’s sort of a love hate thing going on your end but Mr. Gap doesn’t hold anything against you, he just finds you interesting and fun to tease sometimes.

⭑.ᐟ — Now imagine Blissful Love Life from Mr. Crawling’s route except Mr. Gap decided to tag along unbeknownst to you, you later got a jumpscare from Mr. Gap appearing in a drawer.

⭑.ᐟ — This man’s making an absolute ruckus around in your house, making you go on the wildest goose chase for any of your belongings, it’s even more difficult and annoying whenever Mr. Gap takes something the morning as you’re getting ready to go to work. He doesn’t want you to leave, he wants you to stay. Fuck your job even, those people don’t treat you right anyways. >:(

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Gap absolutely DETESTS getting bathed, the first time trying to get him to clean up was unsuccessful as he holed himself up somewhere in the walls of your home. He didn’t show up for a day until his mood was less grouchy.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Gap goes against whatever you tell him to, mostly. But he will listen if you’re that firm about it. He’s DEFINITELY not listening whenever you tell him to stay at home, but it’s too boring at home just staying there with Mr. Crawling! He’ll just tag along with you to work anyways.

⭑.ᐟ — Since your boyfriend (??) is also portable, you can have him chilling in your bag while you go about your day, a nice bonus being he can keep whatever pickpockets or thieves from stealing your things. And nobody would want to touch your bag unless they want to get bitten or lose a finger or their whole hand.

⭑.ᐟ — Your bag is basically a black hole now with Mr. Gap in it, he’ll give you whatever things you’re trying to look for but also keep them from you until you give him a kiss. If you don’t, it’s bye-bye to your wallet/phone for now.

[tsukii0002]

Imagine that Mc, who makes fun of the brothers for being so dramatic when they don't see each other for a while, thinks that they are not like that when it comes to being away from them for a while. So for a reason like exam time, delivering a major project at work or whatever reason, Mc has to spend some time in the human world with hardly any contact with their demons. (If you like the temporality with respect to the original story this would happen after Mc can travel freely from one world to another, after season 4 of OM, when they gets used to being with their demons every day, even if it's only for 5 minutes).

One day

Mc: It is incredible that there can be so much silence and so much tranquility, ha, ha in the end this is going to be good for me.

Two days

Mc: Well, at this pace of work I'll finish ahead of schedule… not bad, but it's a little strange that nobody “bothers” you.

One week

Mc: *eating* I've made too much food… Beel is not here… well, I don't have to cook again for five days.

Two weeks

Mc: *sitting in the living room* How quiet…. what will they be doing?, I hope they didn't get into too much trouble….

One month

Mc: …

Mc: Damn, it's not normal to feel so sad if it's only been a month…*sighing* well I'm just as dramatic… I miss them…

Returning to the Devildom

Mc: *hugging the first demon they see*

Satan: Mc?

Mc: I missed you…

Satan: *blushing as he hugs them* Us too.

Mammon, Asmo and Levi appear running down the corridor and embrace Mc.

Mammon: You're back!!!!

Asmo: Oh, honey, I've missed you so, so much!!!

Levi: Don't go away again for so long ever, ever!!

Mc: *about to cry without understanding why* It's your fault!!! I can't live peacefully anymore if I don't have you around!!!!

Mammon: *moved* Mc!!!!

Mc: I hate you.

Asmo: We love you too, hon!!!

.

.

I managed to fix my phone without losing my data!! 🎉 , so for a week I have been feeling a little bit like this, missing the guys, they are really part of my daily routine together with studying, work or doing chores, even if it's just 5 minutes to do the daily tasks. Anyway, all this to say that I'm back🩷.

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[justjudethoughts]

One of the things I love most about Lockwood is that he is the textbook example of the "one who is scared to love" but instead of being extremely cold and callous all the time like your normal tragic backstory male mc, he can't stop himself from loving.

The thing is, we know he tries. (See THB). He tries to keep everyone at a distance, tries to be cold and calculating, but he can't do it. He wants to be Sherlock Holmes, highly functioning sociopath, but he can't do it.

And it shows up in the smallest ways: how immediately understanding he is of Lucy when she doesn't want to explain what happened at Jacobs' even though he is interviewing her for a job. How he stood up for the bratty nightwatch kid when Ned was bullying him, simply because he didn't like watching someone smaller get picked on. Or when he mercifully changed the bet with Kipps, because at the end of the day it was a petty bet to begin with, and they had just been through so much together, and honestly it didn't matter anymore. There was no reason to humilate anyone. How he will always protect another agent, even if they are Fittes. Heck, he even stands up for the Fittes' agents, saying "they're just kids like us." It's the adults he has beef with.

Lucy mentions that any news of a death by ghost-touch weighs on Lockwood. He is incredibly patient with Danny Skinner and perturbed that a kid this young is in his living room alone.

All three of them think of Lucy as the one with the bleeding heart. She's a Listener, a feeler, the one who is most affected by the past suffering of the ghosts. But that's for the dead.

Lockwood is a bleeding heart for the living. He tries not to be. He hates it. Because caring means risking hurt. Caring means you can lose what you care about. But for as hard as he tries to pretend he doesn't, for as good as he is at acting like nothing can phase him, it does.

Lockwood is scared of loving. But he can't stop.

[irishmammonagenda]

"Solomon?" You ask, eyes unblinking like a lizard as you stare at your favourite Rat Bastard. "You know how you're immortal?"

Solomon turns to you in mock shock, "Really? Why I never wouldve guessed."

You deadpan. "It was a serious question."

Solomon smirks his usual evil smirk, which to anyone else observing would look like a pleasant smile. "Yes, and what about me being immortal, MC?"

"Well, did you ever know Merlin?" You tilt your head as Solomon's smile falters for a split second before he fixes it.

"..."

"Solomon?"

"Yes, I knew Merlin."

"Before or after you became a Rat Bastard?" You ask him, eyes trained on his pretty smile. (evil grin)

"Well...I may or may not've been good friends with him..."

"Do you think I could meet him?" You ask, bouncing one of your legs after you sit down on Solomon's workbench.

Solomon moves towards you, something flashing in his eyes for a split second before his hands find their rightful place around your waist. "No."

"Why not?" You pout.

"Because I'm the only famous sorcerer in your life." He states, that something flashing in his eyes once more. Something animalistic. If Solomon was a demon, you were sure his demon form would sprout out.

"What about Maddi?" You raise an eyebrow.

Solomon scoffs. "You hate Maddi. You put on a mask with Michael's face on it, and then tried to drown her in a ditch."

You shrug. "I'm just mad the bitch didn't drown."

"She did damage her oesophagos though." Solomon smiles evilly, actually evilly this time.

"So why can't I meet Merlin. I want his autograph." You bring th conversation back to the topic at hand, your flustered gaze trained to where the Great Sorcerer holds you by the waist possessively.

Solomon scoffs once more, grey eyes narrowed in on you. "And why do you want his autograph?"

"Because he's the greatest sorcerer to ever live? Duh."

Solomon's grip tightens at that. His brows furrow.

"...No he's not." The silver-haired sorcerer replies after an awkward moment of silence.

"Yes he is."

"No he's not." Solomon glares at you, grip tightening once more, it's almost painful. "I can give you my autograph if you yearn for one that badly. End of."

"But-" You pout, eyes flickering with the flame of mischief, wanting to see how far you can take this.

Solomon's eyes snap up and down your body before meeting your gaze, forcefully he moves closer to you, you lean back until he's directly in your face and your back is up against the surface of his workbench.

You feel his hot breath on your ear as he whispers, "The next words out of your mouth better be 'I love you Solomon!' or I'm not hearing them."

Your breath hitches, you suppress a grin, "It's just that-"

"Not hearing it."

"Emrys is just so cool-"

Solomon flicks you on the head for that one. He moves away from your ear so he can look at your face. Grey eyes instinctual and crazed.

"My darling apprentice....you don't want to know where this is headed." The Witty Sorcerer grits out, emphasising the word 'my' like it's an ancient incantation.

You stiffen, you've really done it now. There was no way you could keep teasing your favourite Michelin Star Murderer and come out unscathed.

A dark purple surrounds the sorcerer, are those flames?!

You pout, looking into the crazed feral eyes man who's about to lose control. You'd have to stop being a gremlin and take responsibility.

"Sol...I love you." You say, and you mean it.

And like clockwork, rhe dark purple flamey aura disappears, Solomon's grip loosens on you, he moves a little farther back, allowing you to get up off the surface of the workbench. His usual Rat Bastard smile returns, and the crazy feral look in his eyes diminish, never fully going away.

You raise an eyebrow teasingly, "So that's a no on meeting Merlin?"

Solomon sighs exasperatedly, love ever-present in his expression, "Forget Thirteen, you'll be the death of me."

You laugh, "Back to your Alchemy lesson now?"

Solomon chuckles. "Back to my Alchemy lesson." He nods, taking his hands off of you and walking over to his cauldron.

You follow him like a lost puppy, unaware of the extent of the danger just a few moments ago. Not danger you were in, of course, like Solomon could ever hurt you. But the rest of the realms?....well that's a different story....

Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Never wake a sleeping dragon....

Never underestimate the obsession love that Solomon the Wise has for his Darling Apprentice.

[always-just-red]

A/N: Poured my soul into this a couple weeks ago, am dedicating it to everyone who's similarly torn between Sylus and their original LI- especially my fellow Rafayel girlies! This is not going to help! It's going to make it worse!! 🥰

Unspoken

Sylus x Reader 🩸 (implied Rafayel x reader)

Summary: You could fix all of this if Sylus would just resonate with you. Why won't he resonate with you?

Genre: Angst, so much angst, brace yourselves

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, injury detail, blood, swearing, possibly not lore-accurate (I've taken some creative liberties with Sylus' healing abilities and MC's resonance for the sake of maximum angst, because I like to suffer!)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Like the first, warm prickle of sunlight when you step out of a cold shadow.”

“Hmm?”

“That is what you said to him, right?”

Sylus’s eyes are closed, his head leant back against the wall and his whole body heavy with tiredness. He doesn’t move as he asks you the question. Doesn’t fix you with that suffocating, crimson gaze— like he usually does— and you almost miss it. There’s a pain to his tone, accentuating the gravel of his voice, and a part of you thinks it isn’t all for the injuries you’ve set about tending to.

If he was looking at you, you would see it, wouldn’t you? That flicker of melancholy that sometimes likes to betray the rest of him. Maybe that’s why he keeps his eyes closed.

You deliberate his words, trying to ignore the way he tenses as you press gauze to a wound on his stomach. They do feel familiar: a simile dancing at the edge of your consciousness, just barely out of reach. It’s hard to pursue the past with the present wetting your fingertips, fresh, hot, and red.

One clue: That is what you said to him, right? Him. Him? Who was—

Ah.

Suddenly the words are your own, at the tip of your tongue, because you're saying them in a memory. You were with Rafayel in his studio, reunited and safely returned from the N109 Zone. He had been holding you close, telling you he’d missed you and that he’d been waiting forever; he was so, so bored. You’d smiled fondly. Laced your fingers through his and resonated: wanting to lose yourself in his power, wanting to forget there was any other kind of warmth. He had sighed softly. The sensation was usually buried beneath blood and battle; you’d forgotten how intimate it was.

Then he’d asked you what it felt like.  

“You heard that?” you say to Sylus.

He hums a little. “Not directly.”

“Sylus.”

His name evokes a faint interest, or perhaps it’s the way you said it: chiding, stern— like you were just getting started. His right eye opens, regarding you warily. “Mmm?”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“You’ve lectured me, sweetie.” He leans back again, eyes closed. “There is a difference.”

You resist the urge to wring his neck, especially when it’s bared as invitingly as it is now. It feels calculated. Deliberate. You can almost imagine him lying there, anticipating the fatal vice of your hands. It was what he always seemed to want: to drag you into sin with him.

“I wouldn’t have to lecture you if you actually listened to me,” you reason, releasing a breath. “You can’t keep spying on me, Sy.”

He hums again: this time sceptically. “Can’t I? But you say such pretty things to him, kitten. It’s like watching a melodramatic film. I’d hate to miss it.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Maybe,” he admits with a half-hearted chuckle. “Then again, maybe not.”

You don’t know what to say, so you pretend it’s because you’re busy. Sylus’s hastily rolled up shirt has slipped downwards, catching the edge of his wound, and you lift it delicately, your fingers skirting over skin. His jaw clenches. His hands fist. His mouth is a tight line and you’re not sure what it’s holding onto more carefully: a short hiss of pain or the rest of his confession.

There are always things he isn’t telling you, but he comes closer to it at times like this, when you could do anything to him— cut his throat, collect on so many bounties— and instead you’re just… nice.

It’s the reason he doesn’t call when he’s slumped somewhere after a shootout, his Evol exhausted and his strength draining from half a dozen wounds he can’t quite heal yet. It’s the reason he lay here for who knows how many hours before you found him, rolling his eyes as you rushed to his side, because Luke and Kieran couldn’t keep their mouths shut.

You want to shout at him— want to scold him for being so goddamn stupid— but you don’t. Here you are instead, humouring him and playing nurse, when a simple resonance would suffice. He’d tried to force it before, but now, when you had thrust your hand into his and willed him to take? He’d snatched his hand back. Insisted on bearing his pain ‘the old-fashioned way’.

He was so fucking stubborn.

“What does it feel like with me?”

Sylus’s voice is gentle but his eyes are sharp— cutting into you like a blade striving for bone. It’s an unintentional violence, a jarring: I know what you’re thinking, but I’d rather hear you say it. Kindred spirits; he sees your mind and your heart and then looks at you like it isn’t a weapon. Like you should be grateful for the knife at your throat because you can trust the hand that’s holding it.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffs, “if you can conjure up a metaphor for your little artist, you can do the same for me.”

Something is stoked in you, and though you bite your tongue, your careful fingers slip for a moment, pressing into the tender skin at the edge of his wound. Sylus grimaces— hisses— though you could swear there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

You’d sinned, hadn’t you? “You really wanna know?”

He nods, his eyes on you again. It’s your hand on the knife, and he trusts you implicitly.  

“It’s like… the ocean, I guess.”

“Inspired.”

“Shut up—” you flick his forehead— “just listen, ok? It was overwhelming at first. Zayne, Xavier, Raf… They’re all so powerful. But you? It felt like you could drown me. Like you wanted to drown me.”

Sylus is quiet. You’re running an antiseptic wipe over the smaller scrapes on his stomach, but he doesn’t flinch.

“It was consuming,” you carry on as you work. “Frightening. There was so much of it- so much you- filling my lungs, trying to take my breath away. The entire time I could feel how fathomless it was. I knew if I stopped fighting it I would sink, and that I would never, ever stop.”

You can remember it vividly, especially when you’re as close to him as you are now. Though there’s no more dark energy, twisting around you, dragging you closer, you can still feel its grasp. You can see it, too, when you look up at him: hunger, burning red.

It isn’t a command anymore; it’s a longing.

And you both know you can’t give him what he wants.

“But then I did stop fighting,” you continue, because you can at least answer his question. “And I could still breathe. I was still… myself.” You place a hand on his knee. “It doesn’t scare me anymore, Sy. It’s vast and intimidating, but it’s… exciting, too.”

You smile and give his knee a playful squeeze. “I wanna see how deep it goes.”

He’s stoic for another moment, an apathetic gaze dropping to your hand before lifting to your lips. Then he’s smiling too, leaning closer: “I want to show you how deep it—”

“Don’t ruin it.” You push him back to the wall.

He laughs, running a hand through his white hair, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a place in his mind where he’s closing the distance again, and he doesn’t care if you know it. You feel the heat in your cheeks betraying you, so you focus back on the man’s injuries: the gash on his stomach has already bled through your bandages. It’ll need stitches.

You sigh, starting to peel back your previous work.

“Does it hurt?” Sylus asks. “Now that you’ve… stopped fighting?”  

You glance up, and he’s examining his hand like it’s a gun he hasn’t yet fired and so can't know the power of. He flexes his fingers, pale in the light. “A little,” you admit, thinking of Zayne’s ice and Rafayel’s fire. Resonating was always a trust exercise: it could kill you, could burn, and you had to be willing to let it. “But I can handle it.”  

Used bandages tossed aside, Sylus’s wound looks as dire as when you’d first lifted his shirt to find it. You lean back, lips pursed in bleak assessment; somewhere at the back of your mind, Zayne is insisting this is a job for a real doctor.

“That bad, huh?”

You huff in answer, exhausted. You shoot Sylus a look of defeat before gingerly offering your hand.

His eyes flit between it and you, and you have to give another nod of encouragement before he surrenders. He holds his breath— it’s slow— his forefinger gliding tentatively up your wrist, spelling a silent question, before tracing a circle in your palm. He closes his eyes. His long fingers spread yours and he’s claiming your hand with something between reverence and sin.

His touch trespasses delicately. His Evol doesn’t.

You bite back a gasp as power surges through you, dark and devouring. Your eyes snap shut and your hand tightens around his, not knowing if it’ll ground you or drag you deeper, not caring so long as there’s something in all this everything to hold onto. This could kill you— you would let this kill you, but it won’t. Your nails are leaving crescents in his skin and you know, you know, the world will burn long before you do.

This is different than the others. Better than the others.

Suddenly your hand is empty and the darkness is not a promise but a place where you’re alone. Your eyes flutter open, searching for an anchor. Your head is swimming.

“Are you alright?” Sylus is looking at you, his hand on your shoulder, steadying you, and it takes everything in your power not to grasp it again.

So empty. So alone. “I’m fine,” you manage, but your voice is shaking.

“Tch.”

He’s not a man who wastes his time, and he knows better than to push that particular lie. Rejuvenated, he sits up, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders— reacquainting himself with the strength of his body. He’s imposing again. Looming over you, again. His wounds have all healed, and you watch as the stains of his blood lift and disintegrate, like embers on a breeze.

His hand moves to massage his neck, and he yawns as he lazily tips his head from side to side. “Enjoying the show, sweetie?”

You don’t really hear him. He chuckles, pulling his shirt back down before waving a hand in front of your face; you catch it in a heartbeat. “Stop it.”

“There you are.” 

He twists his wrist free, but then your fingers are around his hand, turning it over so you can get a better look. Your thumb traces thoughtfully over the marks you’d made. “Aren’t you going to heal—”

“No,” he smirks.

He wants you to ask him why, so there’s no way in hell you’re going to. You both have your secrets: some worn on the sleeve and others, clutched a little closer to the chest. What does it feel like with me? You turn the question over in your mind as you tidy up wet gauze and bandages. You had told him the truth, just not all of it.

Like how you don’t lose yourself in him, but feel more yourself than you ever have.

Like how every time it gets easier, but so much harder to stop.

“So,” you mutter, distracting yourself, “are you happy with your metaphor?”

Sylus mulls it over as he studies you, a faint glow in his right eye. There are also things he wants to say, but he’s thinking of you and the artist, locked in a wistful embrace in a cluttered studio, so he keeps them to himself. His gaze tells you what he doesn’t: that he will bear it with a smile, for you, and that he will hold onto it long after it makes his hands bleed.

“It was a trifle trite, perhaps. Though… sweet,” he purrs. “Who knew a kitten could be so eloquent?”

“Fuck you.”

“Mmm.” He grins as he looks at your marks on his skin. “That’s better.”

[lynxastrology]

Intimidating placements ⛓️💥

Disclaimer: These observations are based on my personal interpretations <3

Mars dominance: These people might face alot of challenges in life but their resilience and their willpower is what makes them powerful. They have a fiery energy to them and are very energetic people. These people never quit when they are faced with a challenge and are very independent. This placement gives off major WARRIOR vibes. The only problem about this placement is controlling anger which might take time but once they master how to channel their anger, These people are immensely powerful and strong both mentally and even physically. Can bless someone with great mental strength.

Aries ascendant/ aries dominance: These people are naturally very assertive. When they set a particular goal, they make sure that they finish it ASAP. These people have low level of patience which can cause some problems in their life but the drive towards their goals is nearly unstoppable. Their confidence and assertiveness is intimidating.

Capricorn mars/MC/rising: These people have absolutely zero tolerance for bullshit. They’re not bossy, they are the boss. Since they are heavily ruled by saturn, they have this air of authority around them and saturn also indicates karma so if anyone messes with them, karma will hit those people 10 times harder. People naturally see them as someone who is the BOSS and they might look kinda stoic and strict. They have patience but once they lose it, then can be very intimidating and merciless. BOSS BITCH energy FS

8°,20°: Personal planets (venus, MARS, rising) can bless someone with lots of sex appeal (esp if this degree is on the mars/venus). Their aura is just powerful even if they think they are not, people naturally see them as someone who is powerful, resilient and sexually attractive. 8° on the mars can make the mars sign a lil scorpionic 🦂.

Lilith square ascendant: This is a very intense placement in a birth chart. They evoke strong reactions from people and might have been a victim of bullying during the early years. These people usually get hate for no reason especially from women and its cuz of pure jealousy. One of the most sexiest and intimidating placements to have in a birth chart. Especially women with this placement intimidate alot of men but men also find them to be sexually attractive and seductive. People with this placement get alot of jealousy and hate which can shatter their confidence. Working on themselves and bringing back that confidence will make them very sexy, intimidating and powerful. They might have very intense facial features which look raw and sometimes even scary.

Pluto-sun aspects: These people radiate power and charisma (esp the easy aspects). Sun is all about identity, ego and pluto is about power and transformation. This aspect can make someone very resilient and they can handle pressure quite smartly. I have sun sextile pluto and i can handle pressure pretty well. These people are naturally persuasive and this placement is also kinda scorpionic 🦂❤️‍🔥.

Asteriod aura(1488) conjunct mars/MC in aries/scorpio/capricorn: Their aura might be very commanding and authoritative. These people might also viewed as a sex symbol and someone who is intimidating. They might also have a prominent sex appeal which can be viewed as seductive and dangerous (in a sensual way).

10°,8°,22° on the ascendant: Having these degrees on the ascendant means that your first impression to people would be strong and intense. 8° degress on the ascendant can give dark and sharp features to the native. Meanwhile, 10°, 22° (esp 10°) can bless someone with sharp and angular features. People who have this degree on the ascendant literally look like models and they look very seductive as well. These people can capture people’s attention and make heads turn fr 💋.

1st house ruler in the 10th house: These people usually are very charismatic and have a big presence to the people around them. They command respect and they naturally get that respect. This placement can be a fame indicator. Everyone knows their name and who they are because they attract popularity so effortlessly. Their career is the most important aspect in their life and they can also be authoritative. These people can also be excellent CEOs, entrepreneurs because they have an energy that intimidates people in a way that everyone respects them. Another BOSS BITCH placement ✨.

saturn-asc hard aspects: People with this aspect have the ✨best✨ bone structure. This placement is kinda similar to capricorn mars. These people have very defined facial features and their face naturally looks kinda stoic. I have this placement and everyone tells me that i have a stoic/ rbf. They have an aura about them that is authoritative and disciplined and these people also have good sex appeal as well. These people usually age like fine wine.

[nagaytoe]

THE KID AT THE BACK

-theories

Did i sit down and analyze this game for 3 hours straight because I'm hyperfixated on it? Yes, yes i did.

This isnt proof-read and long as hell so buckle up for a joyride, y'all (by the way, there's another TKATB fanfic in the works as we speak and also some fanart, though I'm not sure wether to post it or not... well, we'll see!)

Some of these might not seem all too thought through (??) Since i was kind of grasping at straws here (and it was like 2 a.m. lmao), so if y'all have questions/need me to elaborate or have theories of your own feel free to share!

(There's some inspiration here from other people in the Fandom, most of them from the community section on itch.io which isnt available any more)

Sol knows the player longer than we think

My theory ->

-Fantasia stated that one of her 3 biggest inspirations was the game AMNESIA

-In amnesia the mc loses her memory in an accident. One of the love interests is her childhood friend and also the only yandere in the game (at least from what i could find out)

-She already drew Sol with Forget-me-nots and in the valentines day special the boquet sol gave us also contained Forget-me-nots

-In the book (this gallery thing with all the cutscene images) on the top of sols page is written 'Remember Me' which implies we forgot about him

-Annabel Lee Poem:

+The poem contains the line 'I was a child, she was a child' which furthermore implies that Sol and MC knew each other as kids

+Except for the last two paragraphs the poem is written in past tense, which could be talking about sols POV with us

Perhaps MC had an accident, as mentioned above, and MCs father (highborn kinsmen) tore MC away from Sol to the countryside

+The poem mentions angels killing annabel lee which could also mean something like this: MC doesnt die but, however, gets amnesia. That way, the MC sol knows and loves is dead because MC no longer exists the way MC did before (also the fact that she forgot him)

Some people theorize MCs farm is near the sea and that is the reason why sol hates the sea (i believe the city is near the sea and that's where MC 'died' (maybe MC almost drowned and got Amnesia that way?(apparently its possible for people who almost drowned to get amnesia)))

+"The speaker loves annabel lee to the point of death and even after death" (MCs view how to interpret the poem) (-> Sol loves MC to 'death' (the day they got amnesia) and even after 'death' (after MC got amnesia and 'died' in a sense, as a person))

-sol says he thinks death is beautiful, i didn't really know what to make of that, the only conclusion i came to would be: If MC actually did drown and lose their memories due to that, sol might have been involved in MC drowning (or at least blames himself for that) but viewed MC losing their memories as a 'second chance' with them, since they can start from anew (perhaps he made some mistakes with MC in the past which all eventually built up to MC drowning (it could be that we were already teens at that point)

-sol states afterwards: "But people refused them to let them be together, as if fate refuses them to die together" which supports my theory that MC was taken from Sol by someone (most likely the father after he witnessed Sols behaviour and his final straw was MC drowning because of him) the 'let them die together' could mean something like their relationship 'dying' and then starting over again or perhaps he tried to die with them, who knows (all this is really far fetched i am grasping at straws here lmao)

-in a really quick scene right after he mutters "I'm won't let it happen to me... not again" (some people view this as Sol already lost someone he loved dearly but it could also be the MC who was taken from him

ANOTHER THING I COULD IMAGINE -ABOUT DYING TOGETHER COULD BE:

MC almost died, Sol went after them but they were already saved, Sol just didnt witness that and almost died himself/wanted to die but was saved from that by someone (maybe hyugo? Though, he is an exchange student)

-Another theory on hyugo. It's canon that he is an exchange student, however i do believe he is from this city (since he knows about the hierarchy and his brother Geo apparently is no exchange student), moved away and is now back for business (relating to his 'mafia schemes' but under the disguise of being an exchange student)

Maybe he moved around the same time MC left or some time after that

-Hyugo mentions on the rooftop that we remind him of someone and the pronoun of the person he refers to changes based on the one the player picked for the MC in the beginning. It could mean we remind him of someone else entirely, someone maybe not even related to sol (though i doubt that) or to the MC and he knows them from back then but maybe thought MC died as well and cant believe they actually survived (maybe he want to spike MCs memory by doing that)

-A dream within a dream: MC mentions that this poem, at least to them, talks about the uncertainty about something, like life (which could also imply that they might be uncertain about some things in their mife because they simply forgot them due to amnesia)

-THE SECOND DAY 'THE KINGDOM'

+some people think the kingdom (by the sea) refers to MCs farm and implies its near the sea, however in day 2 we find out about the hierarchy in the city and considering my theory that MC actually is from the city and almost drowned there, i believe the kingdom by the sea is the city. MC does mention in the beginning that they lived on the farm ever since they were a child, however, it could very well be that we moved there right after the incident that caused MCs amnesia (if MC was akid when it happened it would really matter because then it would still fit with the fact that they lived there since theyre a child, however if they were already a teen, perhaps the father moved there immediately to cut off all ties to Sol and told us we have always lived there on top of that (considering the previous theories)

The father also didnt seem fond of the idea that we go to the city (the fact that he is is indebted to someone from high class could imply he might be from there), that could be because he knows how dangerous the city is (and how we could potentially meet sol again)

-maybe the reason for the debt is that MCs father suddenly bought the farm land to get us away from the city as soon as possible and had to take on a loan from one of his contacts in the city

-we know that this is MCs last year at the university, if we say shes minimum 22, and was already in the school for 4 years that would mean she got there at 18. If the 'drowning theory' events took place when MC was a teen (like 16 maybe) it would explain why the father was indebted (i also think 2 years is an believable timeframe a higher class person would give someone to pay off their debt)

-at the end of day 2 sol says he's sorry for leaving us and "i dont know what I'll do if..." which supports my theory that he lost us once (and he blames himself as the reason (again, MC drowning?))

-inspirations:

+ https://www.tumblr.com/sweet-herbal-peach-tea/746168072919023616/tkatb-theories?source=share

+ https://itch.io/t/3749638/whats-the-secret-between-hyugo-and-sol

Another theory:

Sleepy Hollow and The kid at the back

-In the nicknames the boys have for MC (fantasia released that on twitter and tumblr) sol calls MC pumpkin (like the pumpkin of the headless horseman (also in the gallery there is a pumpkin above the book)) and Crowe calls them '(star-crossed) lover'

Star-crossed lovers are people who love each other but can't be together

I believe this might imply that, even though Crowe is the second romance option, MC can't be with him no matter what they do

I also found out that the nickname is a phrase from romeo and juliet (which furthermore implies crowe will die)

We know what romeo and juliet is about: romeo and juliet cant be together because their families are enemies (some people believe Crowes father might be them man MCs father owes money to(i personally doubt thah though but it would support this romeo and juliet situation)) and at the end romeo thinks that juliet died, kills himself and then juliet turns out to not be dead but kills herself after seeing romeo dead

-Jericho Ichabod is a character from Sleepy Hollow, along Katrina (the FMC who owns a farm (what a coincidence)) and Brom Bones (its implied he is the headless horseman). In the story, jericho courts Katrina at a party, she rejects him and on his way home the headless horseman kills him (in the scene where Sol accompanies MC to class he says 'it's always been you ichabod' which could furthermore imply that crowe or his family have something do to with the fact that Sol and MC arent together)

In the library scene with Crowe he asks MC about their opinion on marie Antoinette and when MC says something negative about her, his reaction seems kind of strange. MC also brought a book about torture devices and execution methods and in that book is a picture of 'The Executioner' and he has scars on his arms, wears a mask and a chained collar. This correlates with some of sols features. He has scars on his arms (as seen in one of fantasias drawings), wears a chocker (he also wears a mask when he breaks into MCs room but that's really something anyone who does that would do). This implies even more that he will kill crowe.

[harunayuuka2060]

Chubby MC: *glares at Azul with wide, angry eyes*

Azul: ...

Azul: I have no excuses.

Chubby MC: ...

Chubby MC: *sigh*

Azul: ...

Azul: Are you still mad?

Chubby MC: YES!

Chubby MC: Do you have any idea how I tried to convince them to revoke the marriage?!

Chubby MC: We had a drinking contest, and I almost fucking won!

Azul: ...

Azul: How did you lose?

Chubby MC: The aunties joined.

Azul: ...

Azul: *bursts out laughing*

Chubby MC: *frowns*

Chubby MC: You've got no right laughing.

Azul: Y-Yes... *still wheezing*

Chubby MC: ...

Floyd: Beluga-chan~.

Chubby MC: Hey, Floyd.

Floyd: Are you still mad~? *sits next to them*

Chubby MC: ...

Chubby MC: Both of them didn't think this through.

Floyd: ...

Floyd: Hehe~ Beluga-chan, you're being negative again~.

Floyd: Jade and Vivi had planned this all along.

Chubby MC: Yeah, sure.

Floyd: Eh~ What's that~? You think I'm pulling your tail~?

Chubby MC: No. But think about it, they settle with me. WITH ME.

Floyd: Hehe, yes~. And they hit a jackpot~. Actually, me too~.

Floyd: I've become your brother-in-law~.

Chubby MC: ...

Chubby MC: *pinches his cheek*

Floyd: Ehh~ Beluga-channn~.

Chubby MC: I won't forgive Jade just because you're acting cute.

Floyd: Hehehe~.

Chubby MC: ...

Jade and Vivienne: ...

Chubby MC: I can't promise I'll be the best spouse.

Jade: It's fine. You're already perfect. *smiles*

Chubby MC: *frowns*

Vivienne: ...

Vivienne: MC, if you are attempting to dissuade us from continuing this marriage with you, you should try harder.

Jade: I hate to agree with her, but she's right.

Jade: You can never escape us.

Chubby MC: I get that, alright.

Chubby MC: Though I have one request.

Jade and Vivienne: What is it?

Chubby MC: ...

Chubby MC: Once you're discontented with me, you'll leave me alone.

Jade and Vivienne: ...

Vivienne: That's not a difficult request.

Jade: Not difficult at all.

Chubby MC: ...

Azul: ...

Azul: What now?

Jade and Vivienne: *came to visit him again*

Jade: Business as usual.

Vivienne: Yes.

Azul: ...

Azul: *sigh* Alright. Let's hear it.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hiii can i request jamil, idia, riddle and leona have to fight with their s/o that been brainwashed (like a gas that brainswash ppl in a gas mask yk srry i cant explain things ;-;) by unknown enemy so they have to fight each other

Idia Shroud:

Horrible situation. Idia hated this trope. That’s not entirely true, watching the MC feel conflicted about fighting their love interest actually added a bit of interest into a story, but reality wasn’t the same. Idia didn’t feel anything ‘fun’ about this situation. Ortho was ready to take you down in an instant but Idia had stopped him, worried about him going overboard and potentially hurting you more than he needed to. He had already started to formulate a plan to overcome the brainwashing to at least subdue you, the only issue is mustering the courage to potentially hurt you himself during the process.

Idia has to tell you about how annoying that situation was after. He started ranting about games that just fell back on popular tropes for the sake of torturing their characters but eventually sighed, saying he had enough for an evening. He didn’t want to leave your side as much as he did want to disappear back into his room, wondering if there was a way to have you just stay in his room with him while you recovered.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil is tired of his bad luck, tired of the only things that brought him joy being taken away from him and then thrown back in his face like it was no big deal. His surprise is clear and for a moment he does think he’s pushed you away too much, that you truly were sick of dealing with someone who would never be able to go after what he wanted. It’s your choice of using magic against him rather than your words (which would cut deeper than any physical wound to him) that showed him there was something more going on, with you being a puppet on strings for some other being. He wondered if his unique magic might steal you away from them but it would be a shot in the dark, since you were aware of his ability (while the ‘you’ in this brainwashed state might not be).

Jamil is frazzled but relieved the situation is over. Looking out for both you AND Kalim was an exhausting feat, and he didn’t know why he added to his never-ending workload. He’s glad you’re back to your normal self, which still seemed to regard him in a positive light, allowing him to push down his worries for the future of your relationship a little bit longer.

Leona Kingscholar:

There’s no one who knew your weaknesses better than Leona but he couldn’t assume this would be a walk in the park. He didn’t intend to hurt you but he’d do what he had to for the sake of this situation ending sooner rather than later. Apologies could always be given after but there’s only so much he could take, seeing you like this, invisible strings attached to your limbs as you’re forced to turn against him. If he had been quicker he would’ve saved you from the invasive feeling of having your body controlled while your consciousness is present, and he forced himself to focus on the task at hand rather than the hell you might be living in as it would only make him angrier.  

Leona didn’t want to talk about it when you were back tomorrow. He hit you with an ‘it is what it is’ and moved on to your wounds, minor as they were there was still some scrapes you couldn’t get away from. You didn’t blame him and he didn’t blame himself, but he’s still not happy about having you turned against him. You were his, after all, and losing your loyalty even temporarily dealt a blow to his ego that he was desperate to keep hidden.

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle is alarmed at how quickly the situation escalated, flinching when his words don’t seem to be reaching you. He’s not used to being on the other side of you in a fight, even if you were to practice magic with him it was never with ill intent. He finds himself fighting against being distracted, trying to think of you as a simple misbehaving student who needed to be collared. His unique magic did make it a little easier to wrangle you in but he’s wracked with guilt cutting you off from your magic when it’s not really your own actions that caused you to be punished.

Riddle is wary about talking with you after, until he knows the brainwashing is gone and you’re back to normal. He shuffled around the actual topic he wanted to bring up which was incredibly unlike him, a fact you pointed out before telling him in the kindest words possible to spit it out. He admitted seeing you brainwashed was disconcerted, and that he’d rather never see you as an enemy again. He knew it wasn’t your choice but he’d prefer you stick close to him in the future, just so he could stop the problem before it even began.

[lou-struck]

Cancellation Comfort Part 3

Obey Me! Datables (minus Luke x MC!)

Featuring: Simeon, Solomon, Diavolo, and Barbatos

Part 1 HERE

Part 2 HERE

One of the things I hate the most in this world is when the same person repeatedly makes plans with me and then flakes on me the day of. One of my primary Love Languages is Quality time, so it really stings to get all ready and excited to go somewhere only to get a call an hour later than they said they were gonna pick me up to bail on the plans. 

This is how the Obey Me Boys would treat you after you were flaked on. 

Simeon

One of Simeon's favorite things in the Devildom is the wide variety of groceries he can find in the aisles of the various supermarkets. 

Having the evening to himself, the Angel would like nothing more than to spend the evening trying something new and delicious for dinner and getting to work on the latest novel in his series.

At first, he thought he would be content in his loneliness until he ran into you, and his heart skips a beat. Your bright smile beckons him to you, and he can't help but ask what you are up to. 

If you were free, he would gladly abandon his original plans to spend time with you.

You show him your basket and eagerly explain that you are getting some snacks for a movie night with a new friend of yours. Apparently, they have a report on human world cinema soon and wanted to pick your brain, so instead of just telling them about certain movies, you spent the afternoon selecting some of your favorites. 

Although he would want nothing more than to occupy your time for the evening, he is delighted to see you looking so excited.

Your DDD starts to ring and Simeon kindly takes your basket of groceries so you can finish through your many pockets trying to find the device. When you finally do raise the device to your ear, Simeon picks up on the static conversation. 

Your 'friend' on the other line coughs weakly through the speaker and says they are not feeling well and they just don't have the time to watch any movies with you. But they would really appreciate it if you could text them the details of the movie so they don't have to do the report. 

Ouch!

Simeon's gut tells him that this demon had been planning on flaking on you since the beginning, and his heart tells him that you are absolutely crushed by this revelation. You wish your classmate well and say kindly that you hope they feel better soon, but he can tell you are absolutely crushed. 

You look down at the basket of snacks, still sitting prettily in Simeon's hand, and reach for it, saying that you will just put them back since you won't be needing them, but the Angel moves it just beyond your reach. 

His smile is all kindness and love as he meets your gaze. "You know, Mc, I haven't had many opportunities to watch movies from the human world. Would you consider watching one with me?"

"You wouldn't mind?" you say; hope shines brilliantly in your gaze as you look at your guardian angel whose smile only grows. 

"Not at all; spending time with you is a blessing. I would be a fool to throw away something so precious. 

Solomon

When Solomon heard that you, his adorable apprentice, were going on a weekend camping trip with some classmates, he was up all hours of the night thinking of things you may need for the trip.

After carefully going over a few (dozen) maps of the area, he learned that there is quite a bothersome population of devil mosquitos that would love to bite something as precious as you, and he immediately got to work brewing you up several bug repellant potions and crafting an enchanted lantern designed to kill any pesky bloodsuckers that get close to you. 

Unfortunately for him, the sorcerer tends to lose track of time in his workshop. And by the time his tired eyes glance at the clock, he realizes that you are to leave the House of Lamination in less than a half an hour. 

He tears through his laboratory like a madman, shoving all of your gifts into his bag before running out the door. The cold morning air and his adrenaline waking him better than any cold brew he's ever chugged.

His hair is a mess, and his cape is inside out, but he made it. 

The flames of his triumph are quickly smothered when he comes across you sitting on the cold, stone steps of the House. Your camping bag at your side as you frown into your DDD. 

"MC, I'm glad I got to see you; I made you a few things for your trip to keep the mosquitoes off of you." He holds out the potions and lantern, and you regard them with interest. 

"Thank you for going out of your way, Sol, but I won't be going on the trip," you say, disappointment written all over your face. 

He looks to you for a bit more context, and you explain that your classmates decided that they didn't want a human slowing them down on the hikes and stuff like that, so you were uninvited at the last moment. 

Solomon clenches his fist tightly as he tries to understand how some demons are able to function without their brains. "I'm sorry you have been treated so poorly, MC, but if anything, they would only slow you down. Perhaps you and I could go camping together sometime instead."

"That would be nice," you humm, resting your head on his shoulder; his arm wraps around you as he raises his other hand to the sky. Green tendrils of magic dance around his fingertips. But you are too preoccupied with his embrace to notice. 

It's for the best,' he thinks to himself. After all, he knows you would not approve if you learned about the itching curse the sorcerer had just cast on your classmates' sleeping bags. 

Barbatos

The royal garden party is only weeks away, and Barbato's shopping finds himself searching antique shops for the perfect centerpiece for the dessert table. 

He steps out of another shop empty-handed, but his sour mood is quickly rectified when he sees someone walking across the street with two large shopping bags in their hands.

Although he has a job to do, he can't just walk away without at least saying hello to his dear human. 

As he approaches, he catches your eye and you give him a big smile. "Barbatos, it's good to run into you, I haven't gotten to see you at all lately."

"My apologies; I truly have not been giving you as much attention as you deserve. Once the garden party is over I promise I shall make it up to you every way I know how." He says, lowering his voice. With you so close, he sees the contents of your shopping bags full of baking ingredients.

Noticing his observant nature, you explain that you and your friend are going to bake treats together today.

As if fate wanted to toy with you in that very moment, you receive a message and whatever joy you were feeling was extinguished.

"Is something the matter?" He asks gently. In response, you showed him the text message you had just received.

They canceled on you. 

And not for any particular reason; the demon you were supposed to spend your valuable time with tells you rather bluntly that baking doesn't sound like fun, and they would rather do something that doesn't sound like a chore.

Barbatos is rightfully appalled at this rude behavior and scoffs at their narrowmindedness. You look down at your bags and frown, "I guess I'll need to return these.

His hands shake with his poorly concealed rage as he gently takes the bags from your hands. "Nonsense, it would be a shame for you to ruin your afternoon due to the actions of someone unworthy of your attention. Perhaps we can bake together?"

You eagerly accept his offer, but shyness and concern lace your voice as you ask him if he really has time to stop what he is doing.

He just smiles and tells you that there is nothing in this moment that requires more attention than you. In the back of his mind, however, he wonders if the demon who cancels on you needs a reminder that there are things way worse than baking. Perhaps they will miraculously get assigned cleaning duty in the RAD sewers for the next event.

Diavolo

He heard through Lucifer that you were really excited to go with friends to a new exhibit at the devildom historical society, and The Prince was absolutely over the moon.

This is exactly what he envisioned when he thought up the exchange program. Humans and demons get along and learn about the past together to create a stronger future.

In his excitement, he worked through his mountain of paperwork so he could slip away and observe the interaction from afar using the best disguise at his disposal.

Just as he was about to climb down the rose trellis, Diavolo receives a message from Lucifer that has his fake mustache falling to the ground in shock. 

Your new friends had just canceled on you, and the Avatar of Pride suspects that it may not have been on the kindest terms.

Rightfully, Diavolo is furious on your behalf. Although he is unfamiliar with the concept of getting canceled on personally he understands that it is a slight.

The idea of you, his beloved human, being treated so horribly causes his blood to boil, and he feels his horns emerging from his head.

His first instinct was to have the insulting demons imprisoned for their behavior, but Barbatos politely reminded him that he cannot simply arrest everyone who commits a social slight, so his mind went to the next, much better option.

He must comfort you,

No one can stop him as he poofs off to the HOL to find you sprawled across your bed, listening to sad music in the dark. His heart breaks at the sight of you looking so down, and he gets to his knees, ready to apologize on behalf of the devildom for your mistreatment. 

Once you get over the fact he just magically appeared in your room, you assure him that you are fine and you wouldn't hold the cancellation against anyone, but you may not want to see those demons for a while. 

Relief hits the royal like a ton of bricks, but he still wants to cheer you up. Especially since you and him have uninterrupted time to spend together. Even since you came into his life, the Prince has been researching as much as he can about humans, and he knows exactly what to do when they are feeling sad.

"Oh my, Mc, I seem to have developed a craving for something sweet. Would you care to join me for ice cream?" He is a terrible liar, but seeing him try to cheer you up makes your heart feel full as you lightly laugh and join him for an impromptu ice cream date.

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

[froggibus]

Pool Party - Obey Me

Includes: Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Beel & Belphie

Genre: fluff, crack

Summary: what better way to spend a hot summer day than at the pool with your favorite demons?

CW: swimming, sunburns, lots of sunscreen, kind of a crack fic ngl, alcohol and drinking, crocs, chicken fights, reader = mc

this is a part of my Summer Suntacular Event, come check it out!

guys i am SO BEYOND EXCITED TO FINALLY POST THIS!!! ive been waiting a WEEK...anyway sorry for starving my obey me followers for almost a year...my bad

Lucifer:

surprisingly not wearing his dorky scuba suit

hovers around the grill while Beel cooks 

brings extra water and sunscreen in case anyone forgets theirs 

pesters you about reapplying your sunscreen like every 20 minutes 

tries to beat Beel at chicken but almost instantly loses 

brings his extra paperwork and refuses to participate in anything until he finishes it

the only one who’s jaw doesn’t drop when he sees you in your bathing suit

he still thinks you’re hot—he just doesn’t show it like everyone else

insists on getting a group photo of everyone but it takes like ten tries before he gives up because everyone keeps squinting at the sun

wants to be the “responsible” one and not drink so he fills his thermos with sangria to be sneaky

literally everyone knows it's sangria cause who brings a thermos to the pool

Mammon:

asks for your help taking pictures of his brothers in their bathing suits so he can sell them

does not burn and refuses to put on sunscreen unless you beg him to

and then acts like he’s not doing it for you but just protecting himself

doesn’t bring his own beer or anything and just leeches off of everyone else’s

has another, secret mission of trying to push Lucifer in the water without getting caught

succeeds and blames it on you like the bastard (affectionate) that he is

thinks you look too hot in your bathing suit and tries to cover you the whole day. does not succeed.

will cause a fight if anyone compliments you 

“Mammon are you jealous or something”

“tch the Great Mammon doesn’t get jealous. you’re crazy.”

Levi:

a miracle that he even came outside i'm afraid

wears his dorky ass hawaiian button up and goggles around his neck

burns SO easily please slather him in sunscreen

hates that the other brothers get to see you in your bathing suit and pouts about it like the baby he is

lays on a lawn chair and plays on his switch + refuses to get in the water

however as soon as you ask Beel for a piggyback in the pool, he’s Michael Phelps

carries a water gun and pretends like he’s assassinating people

accidentally ruins Asmo’s makeup and starts a brawl

super blushy and flustered if you come near him in your bathing suit

and if you touch him his system does a hard reset

refers to the whole day as a ‘filler episode’ much to everyone’s confusion

eats about a thousand different popsicles with increasingly weird flavours

wears a pair of purple crocs with anime charms (he’s been begging you to get a pair for months so you guys can match croc charms)

Satan:

does not care much for swimming but he’ll lay on a lawn chair and read his book

talks to you at least three times about the dangers of UV rays and the importance of sunscreen

has a really dorky sun visor that he wears anytime he’s in the sun like an old man

brings an extra matching one for you 

needs to challenge Lucifer at absolutely everything

the second Luci steps in the water to play chicken, Satan is throwing you on his shoulders

has one of those lounge floats decorated with cats that he lays on while he reads and sunbathes

only drinks moscow mules and insists that you try them

has a meticulously maintained pair of Birkenstocks that he wears everywhere

tries to wear them into the pool and has a five minute argument with Lucifer about why he can’t

lays out your towel in the sun for you so it’s nice and warm when you get out of the pool

bonus points if he wraps you up in it

Asmo:

comes an hour later after everyone else because he had to shave everywhere and paint his nails to match his bathing suit

takes a thousand and one pictures of himself 

and about a million more of the two of you together (his favourite of which he sets as his lock screen)

has an incredible collection of cruelty free, reef friendly, non-comedogenic sunscreens that he applies liberally

goes in the water but refuses to get his hair wet and WILL cause a fight if anyone splashes him

weirdly good at chicken but only because he doesn’t want to fall in the water

loves aesthetic cocktails served in fruits and drinks them the whole day

probably the best at making cocktails too

has a timer set for when he has to reapply sunscreen and asks you (and only you) to help him apply it

also forces you to wear sunscreen 

Levi uses his expensive face sunscreen on his body and Asmo almost kills him

Beel:

the absolute grill master

he’s got 10 different things on the go, a beer in one hand and tongs in the other

challenges everyone to a game of chicken and refers to you as his ‘secret weapon’ to win

the Satan/Asmo duo get surprisingly close to winning but Asmo chips his nail and concedes

has one of those floaties that you can put drinks and snacks in and drags it along with him in the pool

lets you hang off his back while he swims

if you’re laying down on your towel he WILL come and shake the water off of himself on you like a dog

will only throw you in the pool if he 100% knows it won’t upset you

threatens the other brothers to do the same or face the consequences

forgets to put on sunscreen but somehow doesn’t burn???

comes out looking like a greek god

Belphie:

spends 90% of his time lounging on a pool float like the lazy mf he is

bats his eyes at you and asks you to bring him drinks everytime he finishes his

did not inherit Beel’s ability to tan and burns

five minutes in the sun and he becomes a lobster

only leaves his pool float to play one (1) round of chicken (that he loses) and if he gets too hot

also his pool floaty is definitely black and white like a cow

everytime he hears Satan lecture you about sunscreen he repeats it in a high pitched nerd voice 

belphie pls wear sunscreen

probably falls asleep on the floaty at least once until Beel comes and flips him into the water

if anyone splashes him he WILL retaliate to the fullest extent

compliments how you look in your bathing suit just to annoy Mammon 

steals everyone’s drinks if they leave them by the edge of the pool bcs he’s too lazy to grab his own

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | Obey Me Masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[matchavellichor]

A Losing Game

A/N: was in the mood to write pure filth so here's some jealous sebastian smut lul. also i left the context intentionally vague so that i could maybe write a prequel sometime but i hope it's clear they absolutely hate each other loool

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC - NSFW - 4.4k words - ao3

Summary: Watching his long-time rival and dueling partner kiss someone else ignites feelings in Sebastian that has him questioning just how similar hate is to desire.

Tags: Yule Ball, Enemies to Lovers, Pining Sebastian, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Mild Prey/Predator, No Safeword

For the first time in their many years of friendship, Sebastian is the one being dragged to a social event he has no interest in being a part of. Ominis, taking no small amount of pleasure in this, leads them into the Great Hall with an amused smirk on his face, only biting his tongue because he’s respectful of present company. Sebastian frowns.

His robes are scratchy, his date is doused in a nausea-inducing amount of flowery perfume, and there’s not nearly enough firewhiskey in the spiked punch this year.

He tells himself pointedly, as if it’s a matter of public record, that he isn’t looking for her.

Even as his eyes comb over the crowd, and there’s a little pang of disappointment in his gut when he still doesn’t spot her after the third sweep.

“Stop sulking,” Ominis murmurs from beside him. “You look miserable.”

Sebastian proceeds to sulk even more. “How would you know how I look?”

“I’m blind, not oblivious.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, sitting down at the table the blonde had chosen and preparing himself for an entire night of brooding.

He’d have no qualms in remaining seated in their desolate little corner for the entirety of the evening, but his date—Bianca or Beatrice or, maybe something with a D—has other plans.

She titters something about dancing, and then she’s suddenly tugging on his arm and dragging him towards parquet floors. In no mood to protest, he lets himself get weaved through pairs of students who are doing anything but respecting Headmaster’s Black rule to maintain a Potions textbook length apart.

So much for leaving room for Merlin.

He manages a tight-lipped smile when they stop under a cloud charmed to sprinkle snowflakes, small flurries of white blending into a halo around them. It’s a truly beautiful sight, a winter wonderland of silver and gold englobing them, yet despite this, Sebastian’s demeanor is tight and forced, starkly unhappy.

He pretends he doesn’t understand the reasoning behind his sour mood. Pretends he isn’t thinking about someone else’s hands, someone else’s smell, someone else’s eyes, and the obvious absence of them.

Sebastian feels dreadfully pathetic clinging to the prospect of even simply seeing her as a motivator to suffer through the remainder of the night.

He wonders when he became such a pining, spineless idiot and deduces it must’ve been somewhere during the first dozen times she’d knocked him on his ass in a duel. Surely, a screw was knocked loose then. Or a couple.

Sebastian swallows his displeasure and takes hold of a hand that’s not the right size, that doesn’t have the calluses and rough edges in the places he’s already far too familiar with. It’s easy to fall into pace, but it’s hard to enjoy it. Hard to pretend he’s dancing with someone else.

It’s then, glancing over his date’s shoulder through the haze of floating candles and snowflakes, that he finally catches sight of what he has decidedly not been thinking about all evening.

From the way he stills and all his attention narrows in on one person, you’d think Salazar Slytherin himself just made an appearance butt-naked on a unicycle.

Breath-taking is an understatement. Asphyxiating might be a more valiant contender. Sebastian would be impressed with himself if he managed to get enough oxygen in his lungs to keep his brain functioning for an entire night of staring at her across dance floors.

His eyes comb over every inch of the blood red floor-length gown she has on, head-to-toe, gaze rising to dust over the blush high on her cheekbones, even further up to the gems crested in her hair.

He takes a deep, fortifying breath, though it doesn’t do him any good.

Then, his attention narrows in on the person accompanying her and it’s like his stomach immediately pitches, falls down six flights of stairs, and subsequently plummets into a dark abyss, landing at the bottom with a pathetic, defeated sort of sound.

Because her arm is tucked into the crook of someone else’s elbow, and she’s smiling at something someone else is whispering in her, and despite being only a few feet away at this point, she doesn’t even spare a glance at Sebastian.

Instead, she drapes an arm around her date’s neck, which he reciprocates with a hand at the small of her back, pulls their bodies closer and—

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut and refuses to look, turning away from what feels like betrayal, though he knows is the farthest thing from it.

Maybe that’s what feels the worst. What makes his mouth taste so bitter he could gag from it. It’s the realization that he has no right to feel so upset about any of it. That he can’t expect anything from her.

That she isn’t his.

His shoulders stiffen and he suddenly stops any movements, letting his hands drop from where they were rested at a chiffon-covered waist, stepping away.

His date calls his name, emitting some cross between a petulant whine and indignant scoff, but he doesn’t really hear her. He’s busy high-tailing towards the drink table and doing the mental math for how many teal-coloured glasses of spiked punch he’ll have to drink to self-induce a coma.

Ominis, with his hell-anointed sixth sense, meets him three-quarters of the way there, falling into step as they weave through pairs of students.

“This is your own doing, you know.”

He’s right, yet Sebastian would still throttle him if there weren’t so many witnesses around. He ignores him.

“Sebastian,” Ominis sighs. “You’re being childish.”

“You aren’t helping.”

“I’m not trying to,” Ominis says. “I thought I’d already made myself clear that I was on her side concerning this.”

Sebastian scowls. “Some friend you are.”

“All you had to do was ask her.”

“Asking her is admitting defeat,” Sebastian mutters over the rim of the glass he just poured himself. “She wouldn’t have ever let me live it down.”

“I don’t understand this game you two play,” Ominis frowns. “Would it have been so hard for you to humble yourself for just a moment?”

Sebastian takes a long drink. “Yes. In front of her, it would’ve been.”

“Then enjoy watching her dance with someone else for the remainder of the evening.”

Sebastian has just about decided to actually throttle Ominis, witnesses be damned, but he’s already making his way back into the crowd, out of reach.

Sebastian groans, yet doesn’t go after him. Refuses to.

From his position on the outskirts of the dance floor, he’s in blissful ignorance of whatever it is she’s doing at the moment. Despite the curiosity eating away at him from the inside, it’s some form of solace that at least he can’t see the smile he’d caught on her face. Can’t see the glow in her eyes, or her hands on her date’s robes, or all the affection he craves so ardently misdirected towards someone else.

Somehow, it’s worse.

And then, as if Fortune, on his damned quarry smiling, has decided Sebastian hasn’t endured enough for one pitiful night already, the steady crescendo of a waltz begins to build.

The crowd pulses and sways in tempo with the symphony, leaving breaches and eyelets, brief openings that he can’t tear his eyes away from, because even if it hurts, he needs to see her again.

That’s how he catches sight of her for the second time that evening. Like the seas parting to reveal a miracle, she finds herself right in his line of vision.

Sebastian conveys the tightening he feels in his chest into an ice-cold glower, features hardened. He prays she’ll just look. Even if it’s something fleeting, a split second of a glance.

Once again, her eyes never make their way anywhere near him.

It’s almost intentional, in a way that drives him insane. As if she knows where he is, and she’s skirting over him pointedly, antagonistically. Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if it were intentional, a gleaming testimony to all the other ways she manages to get under his skin.

The dancing body of students continues to shift, like a pendulum, back and forth, revealing and concealing. He clings to the momentary sight of her, and still, like a fool, hopes that at some instance she’ll look back. Acknowledge him.

Give him some form of recognition so he doesn’t have to admit defeat so quickly. So that he knows that they’re still playing their game, that he’s not just losing alone.

The composition nears its apex, surrounding gowns and robes reaching a swirling mass of glitter and silks, and something heavy sinks inside of him, an impending sense of foreboding.

He knows what’s coming, somehow.

The orchestra finally reaching its climax.

Her fingers threading through the hairs at the nape of her date’s neck.

Her leaning forward, nose slotting against his, lips hovering over another’s and yet—

He doesn’t look away. Even if it feels like being split open, sternum cracked across the middle, until he’s left with a slick-red, yawning chest cavity.

He can’t look away, because her eyes are open and for the first time in the entire evening, they’re meeting his.

Like most instances involving her, he isn’t sure if he’s winning or losing anymore.

She doesn’t look away, and he can’t bring himself to either. It’s like he’s standing there, split from top to bottom, voluntarily exposed for her to prod at, to ruin. And yet, there’s a bittersweetness to it all.

Her lips aren’t on his, yet she’s looking at him as if she wishes they were.

There’s something taunting in her eyes. Something he might’ve mistaken as a threat if they were in their usual setting, mid-duel in the Undercroft.

A challenge.

It takes him a moment to realize that context shouldn’t matter. This is an invitation for battle, a glaring provocation. He stares.

The sight of her mouth on someone else’s makes bile rise in his throat, makes him so filled with rage and revulsion that he thinks he might suffocate on it all. Yet the sight of her eyes, the sheer amount of longing she’s able to convey in such a short glance, is enough to invigorate him, to channel all his rage and wanting into something else.

His legs move of their own accord.

Her reflexes are as sharp as they are in battle.

The second she sees him coming towards her, she reacts. Murmurs a hurried apology towards her date, who looks so confused Sebastian would almost feel bad for the bloke if he didn’t want to strangle him so violently.

She’s immediately cutting through the crowd towards the opposite direction, her eyes trained on one of the exits. He picks up his speed, but she’s quicker than him, smaller, able to duck through bunches of students with ease, even with her dress hindering her movements.

Adrenaline trickles up his spine. She throws him another glance over her shoulder and smirks, sly and knowing, a look that writhes under his skin in the way her glances always do.

Even if he’s the one chasing her, Sebastian feels awfully like the rodent in their little game of cat and mouse.

They both step into the quiet of the dimly-lit hallway, the sounds of the party bleeding away as the door shuts behind them, casting them in silence.

There’s a split moment where she spins around to look at him, chest heaving. The live-wire tension between them is pulled so taut it’s a miracle the air doesn’t crackle with static.

Neither of them move for a long moment, until her lips curl into a smile.

She breaks into a run and Sebastian doesn’t miss a beat.

He chases after her, his heart pounding with something primal, something instinctive. Like his self-control might slip away from him when he catches her, like he might just sink his teeth into soft flesh, dig his nails into supple skin. She runs as if she’s just as aware of this fact as he is.

He almost wants to punish her for it. Bite and scratch and mark as if in vengeance for her thinking she could ever get away from him. For her forgetting that she’s anything but his, as if she should simply know it by now.

She’s fast, but she’s nearly tripping over the dress she has fisted in her hands, and her heels don’t help. All it takes is for her to stumble around a corner and he’s on her, grabbing her gown, pulling her towards him.

He spins her around, and she grunts when he slams her against the wall. Teeth bared, strands of the elegant updo she’d had her hair in falling down over her shoulders, glittery makeup smeared down her cheeks — she looks like something savage.

For some reason, it makes something deep-set inside Sebastian ache.

“Let go,” she grits, struggling against the hold he has on her wrists, under the weight of his body that has her molded to the wall.

His grip only tightens, frustration simmering low in his gut. Sebastian has never known desire like this, shadowed by fury. Want and anger, love and hate, repulsion and obsession.

“I know what you’re doing,” he hisses.

She stills her thrashing in favor of looking up at him through her lashes with an expression so innocent, it’s crucifying.

“Attending a dance?”

His jaw sets. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“Why, are you having a hard time keeping up?”

He stares at her for a long moment, jaw working in tandem with his thoughts. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and she tilts her head, amused at how worked up he’s gotten.

“I know what you’re doing,” she says.

“And what’s that?”

“Thinking about how badly you want to kill me, probably,” she says. Her eyes fall to his lips and his breath stops in his throat. “Or kiss me. Haven’t quite worked out which one yet.”

“So certain that they’re mutually exclusive,” he murmurs, his gaze falling to mimic hers despite himself. “I think you forget that I’m very multi-faceted.”

“That I’m aware of,” she tilts her chin up, almost as if inviting him to press his mouth to hers, a siren’s call. “You manage to be mind-numbingly stupid and brilliantly obnoxious, all at the same time.”

He scoffs. “And you manage to be the most infuriating person on the planet.”

She seems starkly proud of the title. “What can I say, I invoke passion.”

“You invoke homicidal thoughts.”

“Not the only kinds of thoughts I invoke in you, is it, Sallow?”

He reddens. He’s spent too many showers hunched over his own fist with silencing charms plastered around the tiles for his response to be anything more than a blurted, evocative reaction.

“Anything you think I feel for you is precisely the opposite. I fucking despise you.”

He only notes a split second after that it’s not an outright denial.

Evidently, so does she. Because then, as if she were made to crawl under his skin, writhe underneath it until his nerves were a mess, she smiles.

What he truly despises is how pretty he finds it.

“You don’t hate me.”

He sneers. “Is that so?”

“Hate isn’t the opposite of love. Indifference is,” she leans in. “And I’d hardly call chasing me through the castle simply because I kissed someone else…indifferent.”

He decides then — or more accurately, his too-horny, too-angry, too-impulsive brain decides for him — to wipe the pleased grin off her face the most effective way he knows how.

With a hand fisted in her hair and his mouth crashing against hers.

It isn’t tender or sweet, nor the remotest definition of kind, but it’s fitting and dreadfully familiar, because it’s not like they’ve ever been nice to one another.

He lets go of her wrists to give her some fighting chance, because he’s cruel, but he prides himself on being fair. Instead of pushing him away, or going for her wand, or doing anything to indicate she doesn’t want this, however, she pulls him in. As if she knows exactly how to bring him to his knees, in any and all contexts, and revels in any opportunity to destroy him.

He almost thinks it’s a trap, another one of her grating ploys, but when she tangles her fingers in his hair and drags her nails down his scalp and kisses him back with just as much fervor as he does, it’s hard to believe it’s simply a farce.

Her tongue finds his and Sebastian wonders if they’ll ever do anything together that doesn’t mimic a battle. She fights for dominance in every stroke of her tongue against his, and his stubbornness refuses to grant her it.

“Fuck,” he groans against her mouth, because he’s learning just how much she kisses the same way she duels.

Dirty, unfair, brutal. Like she’s never been afraid of blood, or getting messy, or breaking things.

She stokes a fire that’s been simmering inside him until it’s red-hot and all-consuming, flames licking at the inside of his throat. He pulls her bottom lip between his teeth and bites until he tastes copper, finding some sick form of satisfaction at the pained little whine she lets out.

“You kissed him,” he pants, and there’s something raw in his voice. He rests his forehead against hers and stares at the crimson pooling on her lip. “You kissed him.”

She swallows. “I did.”

Sebastian despises how hurt he sounds. “I could kill him.”

“You won’t.”

“I could.”

“I know,” she nods, chest heaving against his. Her voice grows suddenly soft, until it’s barely a whisper. “I wanted it to be you.”

He groans, almost pained. “Did you?”

She nods.

“Has he ever touched you?”

She shakes her head.

“Tell the truth,” he says, fingers threading through the tangled remains of her chignon, tilting her face up towards him so he can meet her eyes. “Did you let him touch you?” He presses a leg between her thighs, barely able to feel her through layers of tulle. “Here?”

“No,” she gasps from the contact, nails scrambling to drag down his forearm. “Never.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, and tips his head down to press against her throat, drags his lips over her jaw. “Only me, hm? Say it.”

She shakes her head and his gaze darkens, pulling back to tighten his fingers still tangled in her hair, to tear a whimper from the back of her throat.

“No? Who then?”

“No one,” she whispers, and despite the tight angle her neck is at, despite the fear dancing behind her eyes, she smiles up at him again. “You haven’t touched me yet, though, have you?”

She’s baiting him, and he’s aware of it, and still it manages to work.

He feels his self-restraint slipping through the cracks of his fingers like sand. There’s traces of scarlet on her teeth he wants to drag his tongue over. He wants to suck the marrow from her bones.

He spins her around, presses her cheek into the cool flagstone of the corridor they’re in, and molds his body to hers.

“S-shit,” she curses when his patience wears thin and he yanks at the fabric hiding her body away from his, pulling at the skirt of her gown until it rips. “Asshole.”

“Looks better this way.”

His fingers coast up her thighs to hook into her knickers, tugging them down before she can protest. She gasps and he smiles against her cheek, pushing her hand away when she tries to cover herself.

He nips at her ear, his hand reaching between her legs to cup her sex, reveling in the way she tries to squirm away from him.

“What’s wrong? Going to act shy now?”

“Someone could see,” she grits, though something in her tone tells him she’s not going to stop him.

“Wouldn’t they be lucky.”

His breath stutters when he finally dips his fingers between her folds and finds how soaked she is. Something about the revelation is dizzying, the notion that she could possibly want this as badly as he does. He grinds his hips into her arse so she’s just as aware of how gone he is.

Immediately, his hand is fumbling with his belt, the other pressing bruises into her hip to keep her still. He kicks her feet open wider, spreading her for him. His fingers flex on her hip in anticipation.

“You have full permission to use any Unforgivables you want on me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. He groans. “You’re not getting me off of you in any other way.”

When she doesn’t make any move for her wand he positions himself at her entrance, rubbing to coat himself in her fluids. Her breathing is heavy against the wall she’s pressed against, her gasps coming out in soft little pants. He revels in them for a long moment.

Then, he’s impaling her and all of her breathing stops. Replaced instead by a strangled sort of sound, as if he’d managed to knock out all of the air in her lungs with a single thrust. His jaw falls slack.

He manages to composure himself enough to murmur in her ear, voice hoarse. “Hurts?”

She chokes out a sob, nodding weakly. Her head falls against the wall, clenching around him as she tries to adjust to his size.

His hips snap forward again, even harsher this time, burying himself to the hilt and tearing a yelp out of her throat. “Good.”

“S–Sebastian—”

He pauses, so deep inside her he can feel every little pulse, hips flush against her arse. “Want me to stop?”

Miraculously, she shakes her head. It’s never like her to back down from a fight, after all.

“Of course,” he chuckles, though it sounds uncharacteristically strained, imprecise. Like he’s losing his grip. His head falls to her shoulder and he moans, grunting feverishly against her skin as he starts a brutal, unforgiving pace. “You can take it. Look so pretty taking it.”

“Please,” she whines. “Too much, I–I can’t,”

“You’re a tough girl,” he whispers, tone vicious despite his words. “You’re going to shut your fucking mouth and take my cock.”

She nods fervently, obediently, and Sebastian thinks he deserves a medal for not finishing right then. He yanks her hips back from the wall, shifting the angle and she gasps when he feels him push in even deeper.

“Oh my God,” she moans. “Good — feels s’good, yes, yes. Plea–please don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, voice sandpaper-rough. He snakes a hand to her front to rub tight little circles between her legs. “Look at you babbling. Dumb little cock-drunk slut. Can’t even think properly with me inside you like this, can you?”

Her response is too garbled for coherence, a mess of moans and pleas. He groans in a way that’s almost just as saturated with desperation, that tells her she’s not alone in her unraveling. He pulls her head back to smash his lips to her, stifling all kinds of confessions that threaten to escape him.

She breaks the kiss to gasp for air and his fingers swirl against her just right. She tightens. “Gonna — m‘gonna cum,”

“Yeah? Come for me, baby,” his voice breaks on the word, and he’s aware he’s practically begging. He’s too far gone to care, so he scrapes a kiss to her heat-flushed cheek and properly pleads.

“Please. So fucking beautiful. Let me see your pretty face when you come undone for me,” he stares down at her through half-lidded eyes and briefly contemplates the possibility that he’s died and gone to heaven when she looks back at him. “That’s it, look at me.”

He studies her as he sends her over the edge and pulls himself over along with her, her lashes fluttering as she struggles to keep her eyes on his.

The sight is enough to ruin him.

Her makeup a mess from the tear tracks running through them, the hair fisted in his hands in an even worse state, and somehow— she still manages a lopsided smile, as if beyond pleased with herself.

He’s faintly aware of the fact she’s won. He makes peace with the realization.

There’s nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing to fill the silence in the hallway as Sebastian tries to regain his bearings, still buried inside her. Neither of them move for a long moment, and Sebastian likens it to the peace following a war, a brief period of prosperity.

He’s conscious that it’s temporary.

She winces when he finally pulls out of her, their shared spend trickling down the insides of her thighs, her knees nearly giving out to the point he has to hold her up, even if his own legs feel dreadfully unstable.

It doesn’t take her long for her to detach her body from his own, to duck under his arm and slip away. Panic suddenly seizes his chest, dread trickling up his spine. For some reason, he can’t bear to watch her leave. He opens his mouth to say something—an apology, maybe—but she beats him to it.

“That was fun,” she says plainly, glancing back at him over her shoulder. It’s as if they’d just finished another duel. Hardly anything to bat an eye at. Sebastian is at a remarkable loss for words.

She hasn’t continued down the hallway, but she looks as if she’s prepared to.

He’s faintly aware of the fact he probably looks like a fish right now, jaw still slack.

When he doesn’t say anything, she turns her attention to righting her underthings and fixing the tattered remains of her gown. He watches her.

“Goodnight, Sebastian.”

Suddenly sprung to life by the threat of her absence, he takes a step forward. “I’ll walk you back.”

She snorts. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Unless, you’d like to, uh,” he stares down at his shoes, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “I could transfigure something for us in the Undercroft.”

She looks amused. “My god, you’re insatiable.”

He reddens. “I didn’t mean—oh, Salazar, to sleep…I meant to sleep.”

She turns to face him fully and raises her brows. “You’re asking me if I’d like to forego my own bed in order to spend the night with you in a dusty cellar?”

Mortification washes over him. Why would she? He should’ve kept his mouth shut and walked her to her dorm room instead of deluding himself with the notion that this could’ve been anything more than a quick fuck.

She stares at him expectantly and his fingers twitch at his side with the desire to grab his wand and promptly Avada himself.

It’s then that she decides to saunter over to him, taking her time, until she’s right beside him and can tuck her arm into his. She gestures forward, almost impatient.

“Go on then. I’m little spoon.”

[saricess]

OK BUT WHAT IF

The Hunters Association find out that “Skye” is actually Sylus and they are a bit betrayed by MC but tell her that if she helps them bring him in then all is forgiven - but MC can’t do that and at the scene where she’s suppose to help them, she chooses to help Sylus, which greatly surprises them all.

She doesn’t want to fight her colleagues and friends so Sylus quickly transports them to his get away car to avoid it all.

The drive then is silent. MC’s thoughts are a maze - did she really pick Sylus over her life? What’s going to happen now that THA know about Sylus (his voice and looks), and now they know that her relationship with him must be strong because she chose him over them.

It’s silent back at the base as well. Sylus asks her if she’s ok and she just gives a “yeah i’m good” and makes an excuse to shower and uses a room to just be in more silence and think properly know that she’s alone. Sylus avoids the because he knows that her mind is a mess and doesn’t want to bother her more now that he’s made her (accidentally) lose a life she was happy with, and he fucking hates himself so he’s wallowing in his guilt.

It’s a day or two before MC goes looking for him and is just about to open the door to his music room when he suddenly comes out. Both are shocked to see each other and before Sylus can make an excuse to leave her, MC quickly says she wants to talk, and stand in the music room together.

(A small little fic in the idea, i’m still learning how to write the characters. Other writers please fix my mess and have fun!)

“Why are you avoiding me?” It’s not the question both of them were expecting, but it’s the first one that comes out of her mouth.

Sylus looks at her, and she can see something in his eyes she can’t quite point, not yet anyway. “I…didn’t want to bother you. After what happened a few days ago I thought my presence would only make it worse, seeing how you chose me over your friends.” His eyelids lower, his lips pulled in grimace. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

His words surprise her, but also hurt. “That’s not how I feel about you, and that’s not because I’ve had a couple of days to think over what happened. Even when they told me that they had found out about you and wanted me to help bring you in, hating you wasn’t even on my mind.”

The way his eyes widen in surprise hurts her, but then again, she hasn’t made her feelings about Sylus well known. She’s always pushing him away and ignoring the advances, when deep inside she felt the opposite.

“I’m sorry,” Sylus breaks the silence, and she’s surprised again by the apology. “That you were forced to pick between us.”

She shakes her head. “It’s ok. There’s nothing you need to apologise for. I made the decision and I will deal with the consequences.”

The words hand heavy in the air. She knows she will have to pay something for picking Sylus, but that won’t reach her here. Once she decides to step back into Linkon, she will deal with it.

She jumps when her hand is grabbed, not noticing that Sylus had walked over to her. His touch is soft and gentle and it makes her shoulders ease just a little bit.

“As long as you stay here, they can’t get you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Something about the way he says it, so confident, that it makes her smile. “I know.”

But then his fingers are on her chin, tilting it up to stare into her eyes. “I will never betray you,” His words hard and serious that it makes her gasp. “Know that form the moment I met you, I swore that I would never hurt you,”

“And you haven’t” she reminds him gently. “And I know you won’t, I believe that.”

He smiles at her, it’s one she hasn’t seen more - so genuine and soft, that it makes her heart skip a beat.

She pushes herself towards him, burying her face in his chest as she wraps her arms around him. It takes a few seconds for Sylus to process and hug her back, his fingers gently rubbing up and down on her back.

“I don’t regret my decision, you know” she muffles against him. “I don’t feel guilty about choosing you, so don’t you dare feel guilty about me having a choice and picking you.”

Sylus chuckles, a vibration she can feel thought embrace and blushes. “As you wish, Sweetie.”

Later on when they’re cuddling on the sofa, her head laying on his chest as he strokes her hair, she rests. The days from now will be different, but with Sylus by her side, it’ll be fine.