#ikemen revolution fics

[bjorkshire-pudding]

My name is Valerie, like the Steve Winwood song. Please consider taking the time to read this post before interacting or following.

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🔷39 years old 🔷She/Her 🔷Black 🔷Multi-fandom writer

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I write for a few different fandoms, including Bleach, Attack on Titan, and the Cybird Ikemen games (though I am largely moving away from writing for otome). My works will always be posted to my AO3, even if they are not posted in full to Tumblr.

My writing sideblog is called The Open Door, and there is where you can find some of my recent fics, both completed and in-progress. Fics will be added to the catalogue there as I organize.

I tend to write long fics with multiple chapters. I also tend to write my fics with Black MCs/OCs. Many of the things I write for my OCs are based on my personal experience. I also write both canon and non-canon pairings and focus mainly on AU writings. Some of my work is NSFW, and it will always be clearly marked as such. If you're a minor, I ask that you not interact - it keeps you safe and me comfortable.

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🔷Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan 🔷Bleach 🔷Ikemen Vampire 🔷Ikemen Prince 🔷Ikemen Sengoku 🔷Ikemen Revolution 🔷Ouran High School Host Club 🔷Haikyuu! 🔷Shinya Shokudo | Midnight Diner 🔷Tonari no Kaibutsu-Kun 🔷Pacific Rim

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[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: to blanc, you are the change he needed, and your pressing secret won't change that.

WARNINGS: mentions of mortality, blood. Vampire stuff.

COMMENTS: ok ok so @vivislosingitagain here is my thought process YOU like biting people and sucking their blood so YOU are a vampire. and HEY GUESS WHAT vampires are IMMORTAL kind of. and im pretty sure blanc is really fucking old so i think mortality angst would work great with him BUT WHAT IF HIS PARTNER WAS AS OLD AS HE WAS AND BIT HIM. that's the post.

also im so sorry if blanc is out of character i have seen this man three times in the routes ive played + the prologue oops.

It’s a clear night. The stars are bright in the sky, just as they were hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Blanc doesn’t know if they’ll ever change, but he takes comfort in their consistency. They’re stationary, unmoving, unshifting, just like him. He’s always been in Cradle, long enough to see the shattering of bonds between the armies and the first Alice fall. He’s seen the skirmishes and the blood and the carnage.

And he’s seen you, the one who followed him into the rabbit hole and into Cradle.

He remembers thinking you were cute. He remembers Oliver scolding him for speaking his mind, and he remembers you tearing your eyes away from him, a shy smile on your lips. You’ve always been alluring, in a way he never anticipated, and it makes him wonder if someone from the Land of Reason can really be magical like the people of Cradle.

It’s no use though—he knows the passage of time will take you away. He knows love (what he feels for you, there’s no doubt about it) is a powerful force, but it cannot break the way the sun and moon rise and fall, it cannot stop the stars from dying light years away, it cannot stop your inevitable aging.

He knows this, and yet he can’t let go. He greets you in the morning with a soft pat on your head, leaning over your bed as you stretch and yawn. His gaze softens when you rub your eyes and look over at him, and you’re looking at him like he’s the only thing you ever want to see.

He’s so selfish—he wants so badly for you to only look at him.

For someone so keenly aware of how mortal you are, he knows he's being awfully flippant about it. It’s the folly of man, to be so foolish as to yearn, but there’s always the possibility that fate will take pity on his poor soul and listen to its cries for his love to stay.

And so, the next night, a night that should be no different from any other, he breaks his routine. He keeps you up late, chatting over tea as the full moon rises in the sky, asking you if you want to go home. He watches you as you go quiet, your previously bright smile fading into a thoughtful frown. You’re staring into your tea as if it can give you the answer, and Blanc hopes the tea will give you the same answer he would.

I wish you would stay. I wish you would stay with me. I wish you would think I’m worth it. I wish that if I had to be hurt then you would be the one to hurt me because I’ve never loved anyone like you and I doubt I ever will. I wish you would be the one to thrust this dagger into my heart so fate doesn’t have the chance.

“...I want to stay with you.” you say, and Blanc knows you’re hiding something from him but he can’t bring himself to ask when you already look so worried.

“Are you sure?” he asks, reaching across the table to place a hand on yours.

Your head jerks up and you meet his gaze with parted lips���almost like you want to tell him but are far too scared.

“You can tell me anything.” he stresses, squeezing your hand gently.

“I’m not...” you purse your lips, looking away again as you choose your words carefully, “I’m not having doubts about staying here, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Blanc holds back his sigh of relief in favor of another inquisitive glance. Your brow furrows and he knows you feel his stare, your cute canines poking at your lower lip as you gnaw on it pensively.

“I have a secret I don’t think I’m ready to share yet.” you say softly, turning back to him, “I will someday. I just...need time.”

Blanc laughs, a sound that's full of relief and love and sounds like the wind chimes that hang in your no longer temporary bedroom’s window, the ones that have been there since you came and will be there when—if—you leave.

“Darling.” he breathes, staring straight into your eyes with so much love, “I have all the time in the world.”

The full moon sinks beneath the horizon and the sun comes up again. The teacups from the night before have been cleaned and placed back on their shelves, and the cake you two cut slices out of remains in the fridge. There are still traces of you within the house—your skincare is still in the bathroom, your toothbrush is next to his, and your chair still has a cushion of your favorite color. None of those things have been removed because you didn’t leave.

You’re still in your bedroom, sleeping soundly, but this time Blanc is there with you, his arms wrapped around you. His body is tangled with yours, your legs intertwining as the bed sheets knot themselves around your limbs. Your head is resting right over his heart, the part of him that’s pounding away for you. Gently, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and stares down at your sleeping face, the face that shows him all of your thoughts and emotions, the face that belongs to the person who loves him enough to stay.

He wakes you up with a kiss on your forehead, a kiss on the bridge of your nose, a kiss on your left eyelid and a kiss on your right, a kiss on your jaw—

He sighs when you start to stir, propping yourself up on your elbows. The bed sheets fall off your body like water cascading down the side of a cliff, and your bleary eyes have never looked more beautiful. He lays there, admiring you in the morning light as the wind chimes chime, the soft breeze from the cracked open window ruffling through your hair.

You shiver.

“Darling,” Blanc calls, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Good morning.”

You smile when you turn to look at him, and you allow yourself to fall back against the mattress next to him.

“Good morning.” you murmur, your nails tracing the curve of his cheekbone before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “You look so handsome.”

Ever the charmer, he’s rarely been charmed himself. And so he does the only thing he deems appropriate, and thanks you with a kiss on the back of your hand.

Weeks pass, and Blanc finds himself growing into this new routine. You're a sign of change, that he knows for sure. His own room remains vacant for the most part unless you decide to pull him into his room instead of your own when you’re ready for bed. It makes no difference to him where you go, only that he can follow you like the lovesick fool he is.

Except you’re not leading him to either of your bedrooms tonight.

You’re leading him outside, under the pale moonlight and into the chilly nighttime breeze. He looks up at the full moon and holds your hand a little tighter.

“Thank you for giving me time.” you say, the wind swelling as it passes between the two of you and further into the night, “I’m ready to tell you what I’ve been hiding from you now. It’s...not fair to keep it from you any longer.”

“I understand,” he smiles softly, cupping your cheek, “Go ahead.”

“I’m a vampire.” you say, and it takes his brain a few moments to catch up, “I’ve...found it hard to get blood in Cradle but since meeting with Kyle’s he’s managed to get me blood when I need it. I don’t like drinking from animals or people but it...has to be done for me to stay alive.”

Blanc’s brain is whirring as you spill your guts to him, your mouth moving faster and faster as you explain how despised vampires are in the Land of Reason, how people view them as monsters and how you’re certain you’re cursed.

Cursed. What a funny word to say to him.

“Is that why your canines are so sharp?” he blurts, leaning closer to your face.

You stop talking, bending backward just a bit at his sudden closeness.

“I—I’m sorry, what?” you ask, looking confused.

“Ah, well....I always thought they were cute.” he smiles kindly, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“I...” you blink owlishly before shaking your head in disbelief, “Blanc, I just told you I’m a vampire.”

“Indeed you did.”

Your mouth falls open as if looking for the right words to say, and yet you come up with nothing.

“You can feed from me if you wish. I don’t want you to suffer any longer.” he offers like its the most natural thing in the world.

Still, you say nothing.

And then he murmurs your name, as soft as the flower petals brushing against your ankles.

“I don’t want to use you like that. I don’t want you to be a food source for me.” you grit your teeth, staring at the ground like you couldn’t be more ashamed, “I don’t want to be the monster the Land of Reason made me out to be.”

“You’re not. I give myself to you willingly, and I'll do it over and over again.” Blanc murmurs, hands slipping away from you.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt, leaving his collarbone open to the nighttime breeze and your eyes.

“My love.” he opens his arms for you and his shirt slips off his shoulder, leaving his skin vulnerable—

“I give myself to you.”

And he pulls you into his chest, as he whispers words of love telling you that you can bite him, drink from him, take all that you need and that it will be okay because he’d give you everything if you asked for it, and that you changed his life for the better, you brought springtime’s flowers and winter’s shimmering ice and summer’s warm sunlight and autumn’s delicate, beautiful leaves to a life that was so repetitive and boring until you arrived—a life that belonged to the man you see before you but not anymore because its yours and it will always be yours.

Tears prick your eyes as you kiss his skin, worshiping each freckle and small scar you can reach. Your canines poke insistently at his skin and you ignore the urge for one, two, three, four, five seconds before your mouth opens and you bite down, hoping the small gasp that leaves his lips isn’t one of pain. You’re careful not to take too much but it tastes so good and who knew drinking from the one you loved could make you feel so happy and full.

Blanc looks up at the moon as you feed, happiness and adoration blurring his vision as he thinks about you, you who trusted him enough to bite him, to tell him who you were, you who stayed behind for him even though you could have left.

He stares up at the moon and sighs because he’s in love. He’s in love with you.

And after you’re done, after you pull away and lick the puncture marks to soothe them, after you press a dozen more kisses to his skin, Blanc still loves you. His blood is smeared around your mouth but he pulls you in anyway, kissing you with everything he has because you deserve nothing less than that.

And he loves you.

Over and over again, he loves you.

He doesn’t know how long he’ll be aging or how long you will have by his side, but he knows that if you will forever be his constant, he’ll come out okay in the end.

[kashimalin-fanfiction]

Ancestral Blood (Ikemen Revolution)

Ray and Lancelot decide to explore the ruins of the castle in the Forbidden Forest. What they find is a locked door that only their magic can open, revealing a secret lost to time itself.

───────────────⋆⋅♠⋅⋆ ─────────────── 

The castle in the forest had been relatively unexplored for centuries. Historians were the only visitors now, going through the place in their efforts to learn more about the country's history. However, such occasions had dwindled significantly in the past century or so. Stonework in the castle crumbled, blocking off stairwells and passageways. Animals had made their homes here, the remnants of nests scattered about. But these relics paled in comparison to the slight buzz still in the air from all the crystals that had occupied the building recently - a stockpile stashed away by the former head of the Magic Tower, Amon. While Alice the Second and both armies had located the crystals and rescued Cradle from near disaster, their ambient energy still charged the very air even after they had been removed. 

It was making the hair on the back of Ray's neck stand on end. 

"I'll get this next batch." The King of Hearts, Lancelot Kingsley, stepped out from his position alongside Ray and waved his hand. With a red glimmer in his eyes, the stones blocking the top of the third floor stairwell were slotted back into place within the ceiling above. Ray watched it with a careful gaze, taking in the way Lancelot utilized his magic with little effort. 

"Thanks, King Lancelot," he said as the path was cleared, taking tentative steps up the rest of the stairs, ready to cast a levitation spell at any moment. 

The two had come into the forest to practice magic, as had become routine after the two armies made peace. However, today, Lancelot and Ray both agreed to conduct a more practical lesson, combining it with their joint effort to examine the old fortress to ensure Amon had left no other surprises. 

“The upper floor’s definitely in better condition,” Ray noted. “That makes sense, given that animals probably couldn’t get up here as easily as downstairs.”

Lancelot nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Perhaps there will be more from Cradle’s history than we expect.”

“While I would love to believe that, too, this building has definitely been ransacked before. I’m sure any thief worth their salt would have found a way upstairs, especially back then. It will be a miracle if there is anything.”

Lancelot hummed thoughtfully. “This is only a practical lesson. It’s still worth exploring.”

Surprised at Lancelot’s excitement, concealed under the guise of a “lesson,” Ray continued to follow close behind. 

They investigated old guest rooms and sitting areas, a room that must have been a library - the sight of all books either gone or torn asunder broke Ray’s heart - and a couple of bedrooms, the beds stripped down to the frames for any cloth and ornamentation of value. 

But as they walked, Ray ahead of Lancelot, he paused, staring. 

It was a door that caught Ray’s attention. 

The paint had faded with time, most likely from the broken chunk of ceiling above that now cast light upon it. It almost beckoned him closer, and Ray allowed himself to be led by the siren’s call. 

The pair of double doors was tall – imposing. While some of the paint had faded with time, the blue and gold gilding was still brilliant. A heart, club, diamond, and spade trailed down on either side of the handles, an equal balance of Red and Black. Crystals were embedded into the wood and handles, and Ray reached out to take one in hand.

And a jolt ran through his body, snapping him back. Lancelot was at his side in an instant, but Ray shook his head.

“This door is locked with magic,” Ray stated.  “It felt like old magic.”

Lancelot placed his own on as well, tracing the designs gingerly before humming in agreement. “Old magic, indeed.” He stared up at the door as he drummed his fingers against it. “It’s sealed with two different kinds, I believe.” 

“You can tell?”

“You learn to sense these things. My father’s magic and I were quite similar, but when I work with you, King Ray… it is vastly different. And this magic… feels just like both of those.” 

Ray raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“... Let’s see just what that means.” Lancelot gestured to the other door. “Time for a test. Put your hand on as well. This time, lean into the magic.” 

Still skeptical, Ray reached out, his fingers resting against the wood. This time, he allowed himself to sink into the sensation that crept along his arm, settling inside of him with a comforting hum.

“On three, ask it to open. One…”

Ray took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Two…”

There was crimson in his vision when he opened his eyes, letting out a sigh. 

“... Three.” 

Open. A command befitting a King resonated in his skull. It echoed powerfully, his magic harmonizing with the magic nestled within the door. 

The crystals on the door illuminated, and opened before them. A dark room lay beyond, but Lancelot smiled and stepped forward with confidence. The dim sunlight came with, shining on darkened corners. While still worn with age and time, the room had a majesty to it. 

“I do believe this room has never been explored before. I assume nobody has been able to open it.” Lancelot turned about. “This may be one of the rooms that only the first Red and Black Kings had access to.”

“What?!” Ray darted inside, casting his own ball of light – too quickly, and ambitious, as it flared up to a blinding glare, which immediately diminished when he cursed at it. 

“Patience,” Lancelot chided. “I’ll manage the light.” With ease and poise worthy of his many years of practice, he split his ball of light in two, casting them to each side of the room. 

They illuminated a pair of desks, facing one another. They were well-structured and elegantly carved, matched by two chairs that had seen better days. Fraying rugs covered the floorboards, with gaps visible here and there from age and decay. 

“A study, then,” Ray said aloud, taking the time to head over to the desk on the right. Curiosity got the better of him, and he started tugging at the drawers. Pines from quills and unopened ink bottles greeted him, along with a few yellowed pages in a more archaic form of their current language. Deciding to not parse them right now, he placed them on the desk and intended to keep going when Lancelot called out. 

“King Ray, come here.” 

The hitch in his voice made Ray pause, head shooting up to look. Lancelot was starting to step towards the back of the room, a seating area accompanied by two couches and a low table. However, that was not what had caught his interest. 

Ray hurried to join him, and his gaze caught the edges of gilded frames. Paintings.

The building had been ransacked over the years time and time again, so the thought of discovering anything new sent a shiver up Ray's spine. 

One ball of light moved closer when beckoned, and Ray and Lancelot stared up at the paintings.

While grime and dust coated the surface, the works of art had not lost their brilliance. They were taller than either man, declaring to the whole crumbling hall that they were the most important figures present. 

The man on the left had a stern gaze, light brown hair trimmed short and framing brilliant blue eyes. His chin was held aloft, proud and poised. 

But the painting on the right was much more interesting, due to the people that stood before it. 

"... That is the spitting image of you, King Ray."

Even when Lancelot whispered those words aloud, Ray could not believe it himself. A mischievous emerald gaze stared out across the room, but to Ray it felt as if he was looking at a mirror. It was as if someone had planted it here, for him to find. 

“... Must be a coincidence, a trick of the light,” Ray said, realizing his mouth was dry as he tried to speak. “There’s no way.”

“All kinds of things are possible given how long Cradle has been established.” Lancelot stood firm on his stance, still casting glances between Ray and the painting before them. 

Ray shook his head, as if to deny it. However, a small spark had lit up in his heart, growing warmer with each passing moment. His magic had reacted to the door. His abilities had allowed him to open it. And now, it was his image – his ancestor – that they found in the room before them. 

He reached out a hand to touch the painting, fingers barely grazing the surface out of fear he might damage it. Staring up at the figure once more, he could almost imagine what this man was scheming behind those glittering eyes. Surely, something that his brother would sigh and complain about. 

Lancelot left Ray a moment, pacing the room and casting more lights to illuminate the space. It was probably more brilliantly lit than it had ever been before, and revealed how truly ornate the room was. 

“This must have been their study,” Lancelot said aloud, having most likely come to the same conclusion as Ray. “Of the two kings of Cradle.”

“To think they used to work together like this…” Ray trailed off as he finally turned away from the paintings, staring out at the room before them. “When history tells us they fought against each other, but there was a time they worked together.”

“They were brothers.” Lancelot now went towards the desk on the other side, opening drawers the same way Ray had done minutes prior. “But we can certainly assume this room has not been opened since they parted ways.” 

Ray’s eyes widened. What Lancelot said was most likely true – the door had not obeyed when it was only his magic. It only reacted when both of them had opened it together, willing their magic to unlock the doors. 

“... So that makes us distant relatives?” Ray asked, a teasing tone to his voices, his eyes glittering the same as the painting behind him. 

Lancelot turned, chin raised high in perfect profile with the other painting. “So distant that it is barely worth a mention. You are no family of mine.”

Ray laughed then, grinning wide. “It has been centuries. But still, what a discovery. We’ll have to tell Blanc about it when we get back. This is amazing.”

“It truly is.” Lancelot gathered a few documents he had found in his hands. He doubted they would be worth anything of value, but any history from before the brothers’ war was vague at best. “Well worth our time today, indeed.”

[ragyragd0ll]

Let me be completely honest, I thought Amon was short for the longest time until he was described as "tall and slender" in one route.

I also couldn't decide how to pronounce his name and just stuck with the thing that sounded closest to "almond"

[ciaossu-imagines]

Author's note: This is just another of the comfort fics I wrote as a self-indulgent thing during a really bad day. It's a longer one and I'm hiding this one under a read-more. Trigger warnings are in effect here - this deals with body hatred, self-fat shaming, body issues, and it could potentially trigger someone susceptible to eating disorders back into harmful behaviour, I guess. Other than that, there's just the fact that the characters are wildly out of character, so trigger warning for that.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror, turning this way and that. Her face…her whole body felt hot, her stomach twisted. Her face was twisted in unhappiness, and she was trying so hard, but the tears prickled at her eyes. Oh god, she’d been right…she couldn’t believe what she was seeing in the mirror. How the hell did anyone put up looking at her like this. No matter where her eyes fell in the mirror, all she could see was nothing but wrong, gross, bad…her hair was frizzy, the double chin, the boobs straining at her shirt, like heavy bags of sands, the thighs that could never achieve that thigh gap she wanted so much. And the fat…the fat everywhere, reminding her that she could never be pretty. She wanted to cry, wanted to smash the mirror, wanted to just…be someone else. Someone like all the girls she passed on the streets of Cradle,  slim and delicate and pretty. She’d been doing so good lately too. Though Luka’s home-cooking was so tempting, she’d been avoiding it all, finding excuses to skip out on meals without it ever becoming a thing, the hunger a reminder that she was winning. But that mirror…that hateful mirror just kept reminding her that she wasn’t winning anything, that she was nothing but a loser and a fat one at that.

A knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts, making her startle and jump like a wild animal. Brushing hastily at her tears and trying desperately to paste a smile on her face, to get her breathing under control, she hurried to the door, where the knocking had turned into what sounded like heavy banging, and turned the knob.

“Ah, sorry to bother you! I hope I’m not interrupting, little lady,” Sirius said, smiling down at her, his foot still half-cocked from where he had been kicking at the door. Kicking because his hands were full, a plate full of food that smelled so wonderful in each hand. “I noticed you hadn’t come down for supper, so I figured I’d bring it up. Thought it would be nice to have supper together, though the others have all eaten already. Luka really out-did himself tonight, so what do you say, little lady? Have supper with me?”

Her breath caught, her stomach rumbling and betraying her as she smiled the best she could.

“Thank you, Sirius! That was so nice of you…I’m just not that hungry tonight. Had too much to eat at lunch!” she said, laughing (just a touch too shrill, just a touch too fake).

“Really?” His eyebrow rose and what was that look in his eyes. “Where did you go to eat? Anywhere good?”

“Ah, just out with Fenrir!” The lie slipped out, perfectly told if she did say so herself. “You know how much fun he’s been having showing me all the interesting places he knows in Cradle!”

Sirius was moving about, moving past her to set the plates down on a table in the guest room she occupied. All she could see was his back and it unsettled her, not being able to see his expression, not being able to be sure of whether she’d sold the lie as well as she thought she did. All she could see was his straight, muscular back.

When Sirius turned back to her though? His mouth was pulled into a frown, his eyes narrowed, studying her intently. Too intently. So much so that she couldn’t look at his face any longer, let alone meet his eyes.

“That’s funny, y/n,” Sirius said, his tone sounding genuinely puzzled and…was that worry? “I saw Fenrir at lunch time myself. He’d been looking for you. Somehow, he seemed to think that you’ve been avoiding him.”

“Oh,” was all she could mumble out, her face heating back up, her hands balling up in her dress anxiously.

“Another weird thing…we’ve been talking and there’s not a single one of us who can remember seeing you eat anything for a couple of days now. Poor Luka’s getting a little worried, honestly. He thinks it might be his cooking, so make sure to let him know if something is wrong there, though I think that might not be it.”

“It’s not!” she said, her words tumbling out quick, her eyes wide. She’d definitely never meant to make Luka feel bad at all. She’d never met another cook as wonderful as him, even if she was upset at how fast all his food was going to her waistline.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing…nothing! I just…haven’t been hungry,” she mumbled out, just as her stomach decided to rumble, even louder this time, the smell of the food tantalizing. She could barely keep herself from drooling but no…no, she had to have more willpower than this.

Sirius chuckled a bit, his big hand settling on her head.

“I think your stomach disagrees.”

“I’m really not hungry,” she protested hotly, her ears burning and the tears threatening to spill again.

Silence fell in the room, unbroken for what felt like an eternity before Sirius’ deep sigh sounded. The worry had become apparent on his face now as he’d been standing and staring at her.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s not right to lie, little miss?”

There was only more silence.

“Y/n…I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong!”

More lies, lies he didn’t even acknowledge, letting the silence do the speaking for him.

“I just don’t want to eat!” Her words came out louder than she’d meant them too and she flinched at the sound.

“Why?”

She swallowed hard, looking resolutely at the ground. She couldn’t answer that…but Sirius wasn’t taking silence for an answer, pressing her once again. And then the tears did break through, spilling silently down her face as she mumbled out her answer, voice purposefully low as she uttered her confession, hoping he wouldn’t catch it.

“Because…because I’m fat, okay?”

The silence loomed, Sirius looking at her shocked and wide-eyed, struck dumb by her words…not that she would know, as interesting as the floor was to her at that moment. He let the silence hang as he tried to find the words, only for her to find hers instead.

“I’m fat and it’s ugly…it’s disgusting, okay. And it just proves that I’m lazy and no good and I don’t want to be. I want to be good enough for all of you here because I love you all so much but I’m just this ugly, gross eyesore who contributes nothing around here and takes up too much space so I just…I just need to focus on losing some weight and doing more around here, being better and doing more chores, and putting more effort in….I just…” her voice broke then, the tears heavier now, coming through in her voice. “I just want to be pretty and thin and graceful and lively and fun, like a woman’s supposed to be, y��know. So, I just can’t eat. Please…”

Moments passed before she felt a big, warm hand on her chin, insistent on turning her face up to meet Sirius’ own concerned one. Warmth and worry lingered in those beautiful eyes that she’d so often found comfort in, and she hated seeing it, blamed herself and hated herself even more for putting it there.

“Hey…hey, look at me,” his hoarse voice insisted as she tried to avert her eyes. His voice didn’t leave her much choice but to obey and she stared up at him, trying not to look even uglier in her crying.

“I don’t know who told you all those things, Y/N…” Sirius started, his words trailing off as he found himself stumbling over all the thoughts racing through his mind, “…but they’re not true.”

She laughed then, a pitiful little cold laugh.

“I have a mirror, Sirius. I can see myself. I don’t need other people to tell me because I can see.”

The anger and frustration in her voice hurt his heart and he could only nod his head several times, his hand dropping from her face.

“So, it’s the mirror then, is it?” he mused almost to himself, not getting any answer from her anyway. He drew himself up to his full height again, having been slightly bent to talk to her and his features drew into a resolute expression as he gently grabbed her shoulders and, not getting much resistance anyway, all but tossed her onto the bed in the room.

“Be a good girl for me and stay right there,” he said, his tone no-nonsense as he turned from her and walked out of the room. No longer having the energy to disobey him, and not thinking to anyway, she just sat morosely on the bed, trying desperately to control her tears, to shove them back in, feeling mortified and frustrated and God…why had he fucking left the food in there, smelling so good? It was hellish, her empty stomach protesting its state.

She was furiously wiping at her red face, drying the last of the tears as Sirius marched back into the room, Seth hot on his heels. She could die…as if it wasn’t bad enough having Sirius see her in this state, now Seth was too? She could feel Seth’s eyes on her, see the curiosity in his face before she hastily avoided his gaze. Small favours in that, for once, Seth was quiet and solemn as Sirius directed him where to go.

“Now Seth, you take that side and I’ll take this one. This old mirror’s heavy but as I was saying, I just don’t think it looks right in this room. We’ll take it out and find a replacement later.”

Her mouth dropped open, and a tiny gasp escaped her as she watched, wide-eyed, as the two men lifted the mirror and carried it, quick as anything, out of the room, their straining muscles the last thing she saw before she was alone again. Her brain wasn’t working right, and she was confused, emotions swirling inside her too fast for her to figure them all out and it was she could do to remain sitting right where she was, staring at the empty doorway until once again, with the air of a man on a mission, Sirius marched back into the room, shutting the door gently but firmly behind him.

He strode with purpose now, crossing to the bed and sinking down in front of her. There was no need for him to use his hands to make her look at him this time as she stared, face blotchy from crying, eyes wide and unsure, hair sticking up a bit from where she’d run her hands through it while calming herself down…all things he noticed and dismissed as unimportant. To him, it didn’t matter if she looked a bit of a mess right now. Because she was their mess, his and the Black Army’s and, truth be told, she was the most beautiful mess he’d ever seen and come hell or high water, he was going to make her believe that before they parted.

“There. The mirror is gone so there’s no one and nothing here to tell you lies anymore,” he said, his words a promise to her, his big hands closing around her tiny ones, his thumbs running little comforting circles on her flesh. She looked for all the world like she was going to protest, to say something to deny his promise and, quick as a wink, his middle finger was placed directly on her half-open lips, shushing all her denials before she could even start them.

“Now, you listen here, little lady. You don’t take up too much space. You deserve every inch of the space you take up. And I think you look perfect just how you are. Hell, you’re cute as a button, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise. And we all see how hard you work, believe me, please. We all care about you and none of us believe any of those things you said.”

“Now, as an honorary member of the Black Army, I’m here as Queen of Spades to give you an order,” Sirius continued, smiling at her now almost playfully. “Will you accept your orders?”

She didn’t know what to say but, given that all she ever wanted was to make those around her happy and to be good to them, she knew she couldn’t bring herself to refuse orders and so she nodded to him dumbly.

“Good. These orders come straight from every member of the Black Army’s court, so they’re very important.”

“Okay,” she whispered, squeezing his hand.

“Your orders, little lady, are that you’re going to do everything in your power to not believe any of those things you’d said either.”

Another pregnant silence, longer now, before, voice trembling, she spoke.

“What…what if I can’t?”

“That’s why we’re here…we’ll all be around to help you. Something tells me even Blanc and Loki will be as well. They’re hard orders, after all, so we all will be happy to lend a hand. Just ask.”

She could only nod, mouthing a silent assent and a thank you. The words just wouldn’t come, and she knew that, if she tried, she’d only start crying again. It was  just the silence…until even that was interrupted, by the loud rumbling of her still empty stomach, causing her to jump a little and Sirius to laugh softly.

“Now, how about you be a good girl and come sit down for a supper date with me?”

[deesfanfictionkin]

SYNOPSIS

This blog will be dedicated to world building, character building, and writing related to a multi-fandom crossover in a magical alternate universe called The Ever Young. The Ever Young is a land cursed, where time has permanently stopped, and life and death have no hold. Though once a peaceful land, it’s now separated into different regions. Each region has civil unrest, battles fought within their own boundaries, but those take the backseat to the large war that has been building and building…looming over everything as each region blames the others for the magic on the land and believes that, by winning control and eradicating or subjugating the others, they will be able to force time to restart.

There will be original characters used alongside the canon characters, both as secondary and main characters, as warning for those who do not enjoy that type of content. The fandoms currently represented are: Katekyo Hitman Reborn, K Project, Nanbaka, Servamp, Saiyuki, Mystic Messenger, Ikemen Revolution, Bungou Stray Dogs, Eyeshield 21, The Outsiders, Ronin Warriors, GetBackers, Class of the Titans, and Blush Blush.

[another-lost-mc]

Holiday Rush

JONAH CLEMENCE x f!Reader | Ikemen Revolution 2.4k Words | Fluff, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending Prompt: Jonah and his lover have a misunderstanding about the appropriate times to put up holiday decorations.

Jonah’s carriage came to a creaking stop in front of the Black Army headquarters. He saw his brother’s familiar figure waiting for him just beyond the main gates. After murmuring some instructions for the driver to wait for his return, he stepped down and huddled deeper into the plush lining of his coat. The biting cold wind felt like needles scratching at his skin.

Luka fell into step beside him as they both walked in silence towards the main building. Jonah noticed the spruce trees that lined the snowy pathway were decorated with silver bows. There were tasteful holiday tapestries hanging from balconies and windows on the higher floors. Twinkling fairy lights wrapped around vibrant green garlands that hung above the door and window frames. 

“I’m surprised the Black Army is capable of such niceties,” he said half-heartedly, a weak attempt at an insult. Luka ignored him and led him up the front steps and they paused in front of the door, stomping the snow off their boots. Jonah glanced at the elaborate wreath hanging in front of him. The giant black bow tied at the bottom of the wreath looked like it was made from real silk. The embroidery was made of glittery silver thread. Luka pushed the door open and moved aside to let Jonah enter first.

It took a surprising amount of willpower to stop the audible gasp that caught at the back of Jonah’s throat. He stared wide-eyed at the entrance hall that was brilliantly lit with candles. Garlands of holly and pine wrapped around the staircase banister leading to the second floor. Similar to the exterior, black and silver bows and twinkling fairy lights decorated the doorways. An enormous Christmas tree stood in the large sitting room nearby. Large glass and ceramic ornaments hung off the branches while strings of colourful lights wrapped around the tree. The only thing missing was a tree topper.

Jonah pulled his scarf loose as he walked around slowly, scrutinizing every detail of the transformation that had taken place here. He wouldn’t call the Black Army headquarters decrepit, but from his few visits in the past he remembered it was normally utilitarian and bland. The Red Army headquarters, although regal and elegant in its own right, had yet to be decorated for the holiday season and was clearly outdone.

Luka must have read his thoughts in the expression on his face because he offered his brother a mysteriously smug smile. “I think we have the Red Army beat this year,” he said. He motioned for Jonah to follow him and they slowly circled the tree. Up close, Jonah could see that the Black Army officers had their own custom-made ornaments hanging proudly from the branches. The officers had hand-sewn snowmen crafted in their likeness. One wore the same hat and cloak as Ray, another had a belt with pistol holders similar to Fenrir. There were several personalized ornaments with the names of other prominent Black Army soldiers too. The elaborate writing on the ornaments was familiar to him.

Jonah felt something sink in the pit of his stomach as realization washed over him. “I suppose you had help planning all this since I doubt your uncouth lot could come up with half these ideas on your own,” he said bitterly, the awe he felt only moments ago turning sour in his mouth.

“Of course we did. Alice has so many wonderful talents, wouldn’t you agree?” Fenrir’s voice echoed cheerily from somewhere above him. Jonah heard several pairs of footsteps descend the stairs nearby and he turned to face them, hackles rising. The unexpected invitation from his brother was beginning to feel like a trap.

“Perhaps she could help liven up the Red Army headquarters as well?” Seth suggested with an innocent tone that fooled no one.

“Oh, wait,” Fenrir said with a drawl, “she already tried that, didn’t she?”

Jonah glared at the Ace of Spades who stood at the bottom of the staircase with his hands on his hips and a triumphant smile on his face. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, however - they glinted with something menacing.

Sirius put his hand on Fenrir’s shoulder and squeezed. It would’ve looked friendly if Fenrir didn’t wince in pain. “Despite how clearly he doesn’t deserve her, we know that Jonah would never hurt Alice knowingly. Isn’t that right?” The older man’s question was laced with an unspoken threat. Jonah bristled with indignation at the accusation.

“If you’re all done posturing, I’ve finished the ornament for the top of the tree if you’d like to see it,” a child’s voice said nearby. Jonah glanced wearily at Oliver who was wiping his hands on a handkerchief. He looked almost comical with his sleeves rolled up and a startling amount of glitter and pine needles stuck in his hair. The Black Army officers hurried past him, their excited voices fading away down the hall. “And then we can help you figure out how to fix this little misunderstanding with Alice,” he said, giving Jonah a pointed look before leaving the room expectantly. 

“Isn’t it a bit early to be decorating for Christmas?” he had asked Alice one morning when he saw she had hung a wreath on their bedroom door. The fall harvest celebrations had just ended, and the weather was still mild. Her face fell for a brief moment before she smiled at him, nodding her apparent agreement. By the end of the day, the subject was long forgotten from Jonah’s mind. She never brought it up again.

If someone told Jonah his thoughtless question would provoke his darling Alice enough to turn the Black Army headquarters into a winter wonderland, he wouldn't have believed it. Caught up in the frenzied schedule of the holiday season, he failed to realize how much time she had spent here rather than at the Red Army headquarters. He despised the idea that his brother and the Black Army fools were able to soothe her disappointment in him by giving her a place to nurture her excitement for the holidays. Surrounded by the evidence of his failure, he realized that the wreath on their bedroom door had quietly disappeared without him even noticing.

In the large workshop Oliver had commandeered for himself, the Black Army officers were huddled around a table, watching the tree topper he’d made slowly rotate on a mechanical base. On the outside, it looked like an ordinary star shape made of stained glass. Somehow, Oliver’s invention shot out little puffs of real snow accompanied by bells that chimed a loop of different Christmas melodies. Oliver said something about the not-so-legal use of magic crystals to keep the mechanical device inside the ornament filled with water and able to conjure snow at specific timed intervals.

Jonah felt like an intruder as he watched the officers nearby collect the ornament and run off, eager to add the finishing touch to their tree. He slumped over at a nearby workbench, elbows on the table, head in his hands. He’s not sure how much time had passed, but he felt a small poke in his side. He glanced at the child who sat beside him.

“I knew Christmas was her favourite holiday, but I didn’t expect…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the boxes that lined Oliver’s workspace, filled to the brim with unused decorations, “…all of this.” 

“Do you really hate decorating that much?” Oliver asked. Not judging, simply curious.

Jonah shook his head. “With all of our other duties taking priority, updating our seasonal decor is usually done closer to the holiday itself. It’s my own fault I didn’t talk to her about it properly as soon as she showed an interest in it.” He looked away, attempting to hide the shamed flush staining his cheeks. “I hate that I made her feel like I wouldn't want this for us too.”

Oliver snorted and hopped up from his seat. “You’re an idiot if you think all these decorations are only for the Black Army,” he said as he pulled a random ornament from an open box and tossed it to Jonah. It was a red bow with Zero’s name embroidered with gold thread. “I think she was waiting for you to be more receptive to the idea, so she’s been making everything and storing it all here. If you want to make up for your stupidity," he said with a smirk, "I’d appreciate your help getting all these boxes out of my workshop and taking them where they belong.”

Jonah thought for a moment before he finally smiled. “If you’ll put up with the intrusion for a bit longer, I have a favor to ask of you and Blanc.”

Jonah paced in the entrance hall of the Red Army headquarters as he watched Alice’s carriage grow smaller in the distance. As promised, Oliver recruited Blanc’s help in luring Alice away early that morning, using some ruse about finalizing celebrations planned in the Central Quarter.

Once she was out of sight, Jonah left with his group of volunteer soldiers to retrieve the boxes of decorations from the Black Army. One of Jonah’s many other tasks that day was securing the largest tree he could find that would reasonably fit in the Red Army hall and arranging for its delivery. He ordered different potted trees, poinsettias, and other festive plants with extras to spare. He was not going to let his plans be side swept by miscalculations on his part.

One task Jonah did not enjoy was explaining his sudden urgency to overhaul the Red Army headquarters within the short window of Alice’s absence. The other Red Army officers laughed at his clumsy rebuke of Alice’s early decorating for the holidays which somehow led to a clandestine makeover of the Black Army’s base of operations. Jonah framed the daunting task as a competition since he knew most of the Red Army soldiers wouldn’t dare back away from a challenge if their pride was on the line.

Once all of the boxes had been delivered and unloaded into the main hall, the officers began sorting through them with obvious appreciation of Alice’s beautiful decorations. The King of Hearts personally took over the task of organizing the exterior displays and installing the new greenery. Jonah watched with dwindling patience as the others bickered over who should get to decorate the tree. He told them to figure it out amongst themselves with as little bloodshed as possible and left the room. When he returned ten minutes later, Edgar stood proudly beside the tree, hardly a hair out of place, with boxes of ornaments and lights opened and ready at his feet.

“How did you convince Blanc to keep Alice away for the entire day?” Edgar asked as he struggled to untie a knotted ball of string lights. No one wanted to risk her early return which would ruin the surprise.

“I suggested she take some of the carrot recipes she’d been saving as part of his Christmas gift,” Jonah’s voice replied from behind the Christmas tree. He had climbed up a ladder and was hanging decorations on the higher branches.

Edgar laughed - it was a clever idea on Jonah’s part. Blanc loved anything carrot-related and would spend the entire day in the kitchen taste-testing if time allowed it. “If that’s the case, then we’ll be lucky if Blanc doesn’t just keep her overnight,” Edgar teased. He ducked his head when a golden bauble came soaring at him from Jonah’s direction.

You stood in front of the large doors, stunned by what you were seeing. You first noticed the new brightly-lit trees that lined the path on your return journey home across the Red Bridge. You recognized many of your decorations hanging from the balconies and windows above you. The giant wreath on the front door had two ornamental birds made of felt nested side-by-side on a branch of holly. The red silk ribbon had Merry Christmas embroidered in beautiful golden script. You had only finished making it a week ago; the pine smell was still so fresh.

After a few moments, the doors opened wide and Jonah’s beaming smile greeted you. He had changed out of his uniform and was wearing a simple cream button-up shirt with a red scarf tied around his neck. He took your hands gently in his and led you through the elaborately decorated entranceway. Somewhere nearby a Christmas carol chimed; apparently Oliver had made two identical tree topper ornaments without you knowing.

You didn't know where to look first. You didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry that we couldn’t share this experience sooner than this, because of my own ignorance,” Jonah said quietly, remorsefully, “but I promise to try not to disappoint you so gravely in the future.” You could hear the truth in his voice and saw his eyes were bright and pleading as they stared into your own.

You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him. You felt his hands grasp your waist and pull you closer to him in response. You nuzzled his chest, soaking in his warmth and comforting scent. Your eyes felt hot with tears but when you looked up at him, your smile was wide and full of love. “I’ll forgive you if you give me the grand tour - I want to see the tree!” Your growing excitement was a soothing balm for the lonely disappointment you tried so hard to hide from him all this time.

You and Jonah held hands as he led you from room to room, eager to show you the efforts of a very long day's work. Along the way, Red Army soldiers stopped you to compliment your decorations and thanked you for your generosity. Some of them told you stories about how all the officers had asked for volunteers to help and how Jonah watched every step with a critical eye to make sure no decoration went unused.

Kyle congratulated you when he walked past you both, a red ribbon tied in his hair and a bottle tucked under an arm. Edgar found the pair of you as you were leaving Lance's office. He told you where he’d placed the stockings you’d made for each of the officers. He suggested that Jonah’s stocking be stuffed full of coal - the bauble incident from earlier was clearly not forgotten.

Eventually the hour grew late and exhaustion was finally starting to overtake the happiness you felt. Jonah smiled knowingly and steered you to the familiar hallway leading to your room. He found the wreath you made for and returned it to its rightful place on your bedroom door. Your names were embroidered on the silk ribbon, a memento of your first Christmas together.

“If you’ll permit me, I have one final surprise for you,” Jonah said with a twinkle in his eye. You admired the way his cheeks flushed in the dimming light. It was so adorable when he got flustered about something.

“I’m not sure I can handle anymore surprises after the evening I’ve had,” you said with a laugh as he pushed the door open then pulled you close to him.

“There’s one last holiday tradition that I refuse to overlook,” he said with surprising seriousness, his voice low and tinged with heat. He nodded his chin upwards. You followed his gaze and saw a sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway above you. He silenced your delighted laughter with a kiss.

[yarnnerdally]

I'm cackling at these poll results.

The top 3 (that I haven't already written the pregnancy/dad hcs for) so far in each game:

IkeSen: Mitsuhide (10), Kenshin (8), and all three in third tied with (3) are Motonari, Shingen, and Ieyasu.

IkeRev: Harr and Luka with (6) and Jonah with (3).

IkeVamp: (whoops I wrote for 2 of the top three tied for first already) but anyways Vlad (5), then with (4) all tied are Charles, Jean, and Vincent.

IkePri: Y'all killed me so far with this one. Simps, all of you, I say. Clavis is first with a whopping (14). Then I already wrote for Chev and Sariel and Rio who would be 2nd and 3rd and 4th (whoops), but then we have Gilbert, Silvio, and Licht all tied with (3).

This is gonna be interesting to try and group sets together lol. And like. I might just not write for a couple that haven't gotten votes so far. Like Dalim, Dean, Ray, Yoshimoto, Mitsunari, Napoleon, and Isaac. That might change. Might not. It would cut down on the amount of writing to do lol.

Eh. We'll see how it all shakes out.

[beneathashadytree]

HI GUYS! LONG POST, MAKING A BIG ANNOUNCEMENT OVER HERE! I WILL BE ACCEPTING WRITING COMMISSIONS FOR A COUPLE OF MONTHS, DUE TO THE FACT THAT I LIVE IN EXTREME POVERTY… PLEASE REBLOG!!

Here are my commision prices:

1$-2$ —> an SMAU (depends on length)

5$ —> a drabble (around 500 words)

10$ —> a oneshot (around 1000 words)

20$ or more—> a ficlet (2000-4000 words or more)

What fandoms I’m willing to write for (the ones in bold are the ones I’m best at and hyperfixating on):

Attack on Titan

Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

My Hero Academia

Haikyuu!!

Jujutsu Kaisen

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Moriarty the Patriot

Tokyo Revengers

One Piece

Bungou Stray Dogs

Kuroko no Basket

Ikemen Sengoku

Ikemen Vampire

Ikemen Revolution

Ikemen Prince

Love and Deepspace (my current fav)

How do I request a commission?

Either contact me via my DMs here, or on my Ko-Fi! I’ll be linking my account at the bottom of this post.

What’s the commission format?

Tell me your name or your OC’s name, their gender & pronouns, describe them to me both physically and in terms of personality, then tell me which character you want me to write them with. I’ll be writing “character x reader” or “character x OC” fics, so I need to know what I’m working with! Any extra details will help a lot. Of course, we will discuss everything concerning your commission privately.

If you want to check out my previous works to have a rough idea of how things will look like, be sure to check out my masterlist, which is my pinned post! Of course, my writing improves over time, so it may not be precisely as it is there.

How do I pay you?

You can pay me via my Ko-Fi account, which is linked to my PayPal! Here’s the link to my Ko-Fi.

Please consider helping me out, whether by requesting a commission, or by sharing this post and my links as much as possible!! I’m trying my best to do all I can now that I haven’t got many options left.

As some of you might already know, I’m a dentist, but still at uni. Sadly, studying dentistry is extremely expensive, and I can’t rely on my parents to pay my fees for me for a few reasons.

The first being that my dad is a heart patient, and can’t work anymore. The pension he receives is literally less than the equivalent of 90 dollars. Of course, that doesn’t provide anything in terms of food and living (we usually can only afford a meal or two a day) except for some of his meds—not even all of them. His health is steadily declining.

My mother is extremely narcissistic and very, very abusive. I’ve gone through hell living with her because I have to, but even she can’t even afford to take care of us because no one wants to hire her at her old age, and she’s used up all her savings on my dad.

I’m also physically disabled, and can’t move around often. I also have to have surgeries every now and then because of the chronic illness I have.

I am in serious, dire need of money, both for my tuition fees, and hopefully to be able to live. I have to keep us afloat until I can get married in a couple of years, since I can’t live alone. Besides, my dad doesn’t deserve to suffer with his heart problems.

I tried working with dentistry last year, and that worked for a while, but this year no one’s hiring due to the terrible state of our economy. I have no skills aside from my writing, so that’s what I’ll have to work with. I’m getting seriously desperate, so I hope you guys understand why I’m doing this, and hopefully feel inclined to offer any support you can—even if not financial, but just by reblogging this post!

[bjorkshire-pudding]

Me, absolutely cringing at some of the dialogue in these old prompt fills I wrote

Alice to Fenrir, after receiving the best oral she's had in her life: Where did you learn that????

Fenrir, with a shit eating grin on his face: What, you mean that's not a basic skill?

Alice, in her head: ...there was nothing basic about that

Why did y'all let me write this stuff

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: edgar contemplates you.

WARNINGS: none!! :D

COMMENTS: i cried three times while writing this idk!! also this got away from me hello 2k words??? SPOILERS FOR EDGARS ROUTE EVERYWHERE OK YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

TAGLIST: @vivislosingitagain obviously and @vioisgoinginsane meow!! @jade-s-nymph asked to be tagged too after learning i cried over this HE;PPL

Edgar isn’t sure what to make of you. Even now, even though you’ve decided to stay in Cradle with him, throwing your things and your only way back home into the rabbit hole that took you here, he finds himself wondering why you did that. You want to stay with him, that part is obvious enough, and you’ve always been so earnest with what you think that he has no reason to doubt you. But even so, he holds onto the hope that you really do want to stay, that you want to love him and you’ll choose that every day for as long as you two shall live, and that this isn’t some dream that he’ll inevitably wake up from and be forced to go back to the way he once was.

There’s an ache in his chest when he thinks about how he tried to use you, how he only viewed you as a tool. You always tell him that doesn’t matter now, that he’s done more than enough to prove that he cares for you in ways that far surpass viewing you as a tool, but some nights your words aren’t enough and he wakes up in a cold sweat, visions of the Magic Tower and his long-imprisoned uncle flashing in his mind. He finds solace in you, your arms around his waist and your face pressed against his back, and on those nights you wake up with his forehead pressed against yours so he can see your face first thing in the morning. You always know why he’s facing your way, and you always ask if he wants to talk about it.

By morning, Edgar is usually okay. He’s gone through night terrors enough to be able to chase them off on his own. He doesn’t want to burden you with things that he did to hurt you, actions he took that led to your suffering. It would be horrible to complain when you were the victim in that situation, and he doesn’t want to be horrible to you.

But all it takes for him to break, to crack just a little, is you taking him into your arms, pressing sweet kisses to his forehead, letting him know that he can talk to you about anything, anytime, and that all he needs to do is call because you will always come, no matter what. And for the first time in a long, long while, Edgar feels like he could cry.

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t, but with every passing day he feels like he can be more honest with you. The sun rises above the horizon and dips below it, day after day, and you’re still here. You still bring him pastries you made and jellybeans you picked up from his favorite candy shop when you run errands. You still bring him a blanket when he falls asleep at his desk because he is working too hard, and you always pull up a chair right next to him so that when he wakes up, the first thing he will see is still your face. You still sing his praises when he spars, you still shine down on him with that beautiful smile when you run into his arms. You still place sticky notes on the wall above his desk, reminding him to take care of himself and that his favorite pastry is in the fridge if he needs any food while you’re away. Your notes form a mosaic of love and care and sweetness above the space that he used to slave away in. Now, because of you, instead of a desk full of paperwork signed by bloody hands, it feels like sitting on a fluffy cloud overlooking a flower-speckled meadow.

Edgar doesn’t know how he can even begin to repay you for what you’ve done for him. He knows without a doubt that he will love you every day, for as long as his soul will allow. Promising to love you with his heart isn’t enough, he thinks, because his heart could stop beating any day and a love that dies like a heart is no love at all.

You’re the most special person in his life, without a doubt. For far too long he thought his love wasn’t enough, that it wasn’t worthy, and yet you’ve tried (and are still trying) to convince him that it is. You cradle his hands to your chest and you say they’re warm, you kiss his scars when the memories hurt, and you allow his bloody hands to touch and hold you. You’ve allowed him so much, you’ve spoiled him rotten, and he couldn’t go on living without you

 He doesn’t know what pulled you into Cradle, but he prays to every star in the sky that whatever leads you here doesn’t change its mind. Whether it’s fate or just you (beautiful, radiant you), if you were to slip from his grasp, he doesn’t know what he would do.

And so, when you come back from running errands with a sleepy stumble in your step, when the sun dips beneath the sky, when your eyes and fluttering shut and you can’t stop yourself from yawning, Edgar catches you. His eyes are soft as he takes you in, your fingers curling around his bicep as you smile. Your head falls against his chest, and you allow yourself to slip into his embrace, your ear right against his heart. An explosion of emotions swell from within him, starting from the very pits of his stomach and blooming into a beautiful flower as they hit his heart. The happiness he feels, just holding you, knowing you trust him enough to let down your guard around him, fills him with the greatest joy he's ever known.

“Welcome home, dumpling.” he teases, voice soft and quiet as he brushes your hair away from your face, “Had a rough day?”

“Mhm.” you answer, nodding. Your hair scratches against his shirt, and his heart pitter patters in his chest, “Jonah ran me ragged.”

Edgar tsks, swooping you up into his arms. He’ll have to let Jonah know not to get too overzealous with his love, even though he knows all too well how easy it is.

It’s familiar, carrying you to bed and falling asleep at your side—in fact, Edgar knows it's never been easier. Waking up the next morning is just as easy, and even though he wishes he could stay there till the afternoon, he gets out of bed and gets ready before you can convince him to come back.

He’s out the door before you open your eyes.

The day passes like any other, with him running around headquarters and organizing paperwork, starting the occasional sparring match with Zero or one of his soldiers just so he doesn’t get bored. He makes sure to go into town and get the present he wanted to get for you, his heart set on giving it to you by the end of the day. He’s sure you’ll love it, and he’s certain this is what he wants.

He just hopes you will want it as well.

By the time he gets back to headquarters, it’s time for dinner. You’re waiting in the dining room for him, two dishes placed in front of you, and he delights in the way your smile glimmers when you see him. You perk up completely at the sight of him, and it's enough to fill him with butterflies.

You really are too sweet to him.

Dinner passes in the blink of an eye. He talks about his day and you talk about yours, observing your hand gestures and facial expressions like they’re the most interesting thing in all of Cradle. No, even more so—they’re the most interesting things in this world and the next and the next, because no matter how many worlds and universes there are, they wouldn’t hold a candle to the person who found him at his darkest and dragged him out with their own two hands, allowing him the mercy of clawing at their palms and grasping for their wrists and crushing their fingers when the darkness latches onto him and tried to yank him away from the light.

The walk back to his room is quiet. He can tell you’re sleepy, your hand wrapped around his wrist loosening and tightening every few seconds. It’s cute how you walk side by side but still insist on holding onto him. It makes him feel so loved, even when he opens his door and lets the two of you in and you have to let go.

“You seem excited about something, Edgar.” you comment, slipping your arms out of your shirt and changing into your pajamas.

He snickers to himself, shooting you an indifferent smile. You can read him so well, better than anyone else, and wow he really loves you.

“You’re right. I picked up a little gift for you while I was in town.” he says, coming closer to where you stand, tired from the day's events and in your pajamas but looking so, so lovely.

He cups your cheeks, and that hand slides away when he drops on one knee.

Your hands fly to your mouth, covering your gasp when he pulls out a small black box and presents it to you. Your eyes are already watering, and even though he wants to wipe your tears he knows those are the happiest tears he’s ever seen.

“When you first fell into Cradle, I couldn’t have imagined what you would end up becoming to me. You’re my everything. I love you more than anything, and you’ve given me more love than I ever could have hoped for. Marry me, and we can spend our days happy and in love for as long as we both should live.”

My precious Alice.

Your yes is so loud he’s certain you just woke up half of headquarters as you throw yourself into his arms, crying into his shoulder as he slips the ring on your finger. You clutch it to your chest like it's something precious, like it's something you can't bear to lose, and Edgar clutches you in much the same way.

His suspicions are confirmed when Jonah kicks down the door, looking frantically into the room to make sure you’re safe (and Edgar knows he only came for you, his now fiance, because he knows full well Edgar can defend himself.) Zero comes soon after, lured by the commotion Jonah makes after learning you two are engaged, and if Edgar didn’t know any better he’d say Zero is just as happy as he is.

Leave it to his student to always look out for him. It seems sometimes Zero becomes the teacher himself when it comes to Edgar’s happiness.

If there was any sleepiness in your eyes it's gone now, especially when Jonah orders everyone into the dining hall for a celebration. Tears gather in his eyes but he doesn’t let them fall, not even when you point them out and ask if Jonah is okay and he snaps that he’s fine, that he’s just tired and that the two of you screaming ruined his beauty sleep. Neither of you comment on his choked-up voice or his sniffling. You know that’s what's best.

The chefs are all too happy to bring out the alcohol (which lures Kyle from his office, who then offers you his sincere congratulations even though he’s very much out of it.) And before you know it, it’s like nighttime hasn’t fallen and most of Cradle isn’t asleep, because you’re with the man you love and all of his friends and everyone is smiling and laughing and it makes you tear up again.

You had no idea your happiness would make people so happy. You had no idea your shared happiness could make everyone this happy. You had no idea you two had so much influence on other people’s lives, even though it seems silly to comprehend it now when you’ve changed everyone’s lives in some way just by being here and loving one of their own.

You were part of a family now. A huge, dysfunctional, reckless, loyal family.

Edgar’s lips find your cheek and he kisses you like it’s the first time. You turn to him with watery eyes and he smiles at you, the crinkles around his eyes and in his brow making your heart pound.

“Thank you for saying yes.” he murmurs, “I love you so much.”

He kisses you, in front of everyone, and you cling to his collar like you want him to stay there forever.

Because you do, and you always will.

Because your love is felt with your whole soul, and if it died with your heart it’d be no love at all.

[chaosangel767]

My baby boy!!! Oh I'm Melting Mo!! ITS SO CUTE 😍 Sending all the love back to you today ❤❤❤

@chaosangel767 asked: Mo!! I am so happy to see requests open. Congratulations on so many followers 🥳 Can I pretty please have Luka and prompt 18? Thank you Darling 💜💜💜

And I'm happy to see YOU on my dash!! Love you so much!! Yes you can have him, this is such a cute request!!

[😘] 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝙻𝚞𝚔𝚊 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛…

LUKA:

It's so easy to do whatever you want to Luka while he's cooking. It's a little cheat code of yours that feels almost morally wrong, yet... could you be blamed? As much as Luka shared of himself with you, it would be a disaster if you came to him out of nowhere and started to smooch him all over! Doing it while behind him at the kitchen counter, however...

"What are you doing? Do you have something you want to tell me...?"

Luka's hands are covered in flour from the homemade bread he's preparing, so touching you is out of the question... but even if he were to do that, you figure it would be to caress you and not to push you away, just as you usually find him doing as an answer to your kisses. Without replying to him, you simply press your lips to more of what you can reach of Luka: the reddened tips of his ears on each side, his jaw, his upper arm and shoulder...

"It's not fair when you do that... Makes me want to kiss you all over just like what you're doing to me... But then we'll get too lost into it and... I-I don't want to risk someone walking in there to see us exchanging such an act of affection, even if an innocent one..."

∎ Steal My Heart!! - xxsycamore’s 1500 followers celebration event | 💌 event masterlist

[aquagirl1978]

The Yule Ball - Blanc Lapin x Reader (Ikemen Revolution)

A/N; Part of the Series of Firsts event I am hosting.

Pairing: Blanc Lapin x Reader

Prompt: First Look

Word Count: 417

Tags: fluff perhaps ooc as this boy never got his route, i'm just winging it here folks, but if anyone deserved a fic for my event, it's this guy @vivislosingitagain - tagging you because blanc

“Alice!”

You knew that voice, bright and light, like a greeting from an old friend. And you knew that smile, warm and welcoming from the moment you met that fateful day.

But you almost didn’t recognize the man walking towards you. 

Straightening your back, you smoothed your skirt as the White Rabbit approached. The  friendly recordkeeper who you had met with frequently over a casual cup of tea was now replaced with an elegantly dressed stranger in a winter white suit.

He looked good. He looked more than good. Dashing and handsome, you wondered where this Blanc was hiding the whole time you’ve been in Cradle?

You schooled your expression by the time he reached you; the last thing you wanted was to appear like a lovestruck school girl.

With a smile so dazzling, he took your hand in his, bringing your joined hands to his lips and brushing a chaste kiss across your knuckles. His gaze met yours; why hadn’t you noticed before how truly beautiful his eyes were? Golden flecks shone under the lights of the ball like stars in his eyes, capturing your full attention as you stood there dazed.

He withdrew his lips from the back of your hand, his cheeks tinted pink like he had just come in from being outside. Your gaze was still fixed on his as he let go of you; already, you missed the warmth of his hand as a strange feeling stirred inside, leaving you longing for more of his touch.

He flicked his eyes away from yours; following his gaze, you watched as couples gathered on the dance floor as soft music filled the ballroom.

“Would you grant me the honor of a dance?” His words were polite, but his whisper was soft, yet sultry; words that were meant only for your ears. His hand was extended to you, in eager invitation.

Until tonight, you had only viewed Blanc as a platonic friend. As record keeper of Cradle and the first person you met in Cradle, Blanc had been a guiding force when navigating your way through Cradle, someone you trusted and was always there for you, be it with a helping hand or a listening ear. 

Slipping your hand into his, his warmth radiated through your body, lighting a smile on your face.

“Yes, Blanc, I would love to dance with you,” you replied as he guided you onto the dance floor, your heart fluttering at the thoughts of where this dance might lead you.

Insert Line Break

Tagging: @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @alixennial @redheadkittys @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @kisara-16 @kpop-and-otome @lordsisterxotome @lucyw260 @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @judejazza @maries-gallery @randonauticrap @xbalayage @xenokiryu

[ikeromantic]

MasterList and Blog Info

I've reorganized my writing links and all new stories will be linked in the sections below. You can still find my old masterlist HERE too.

Currently Playing and Writing For:

Ikemen Vampire Masterlist

Ikemen Sengoku Masterlist

Ikemen Prince Masterlist

Ikemen Revolution Masterlist

Ikemen Villains Masterlist

Obey Me Masterlist

Other Games/Fandoms Masterlist

Follower Celebration Masterlists:

Follower Celebrations 300, 400, 500, 600, and 700

Follower Celebrations 900 and 1K IkeVamp and IkeRev

Follower Celebration 1K IkeSen

Follower Celebration 1K IkePrince

No Longer Playing: Midnight Cinderella, Mr. Love: Queen's Choice, Destined to Love, Last Legacy

Other Fandoms:

Dragon Age, BG3, Mass Effect, Diablo, The Magnus Archives/Protocol, Malevolent, Stormlight Archives, The Expanse, Good Omens, The Wheel of Time, The Sandman, and a ton of random fantasy, sci-fi, and horror stuff.

Quizzies:

Your Perfect Valentine Quiz

Find Your IkeVamp LoveStyle Quiz

Blog rules and Ask courtesy:

I try to tag all my fics. If it's tagged smut or very spicy, you can assume it's mature, so don't interact if you aren't.

If I think a topic may be triggering, I will also tag that as tw: in the tags and/or in the description at the top.

If something isn't tagged and you think it should be, message me.

I love getting comments, likes, and reblogs. It lets me know there's still someone out there interested in what I've shared.

No hate please. Remember that fanart and fic are made for free from a shared passion. If it's not to your taste, read something else. You don't need to let me know how much you don't like it.

Asks are great, but I don't always have time to get to them quickly. If you don't hear from me, that means I have it in my to-do and will get to it when I can ^_^

If you want an ask faster, commission me on Kofi.

If you ASK as anon and I decide not to write your ask, you won't get any response. But if you ask as yourself, I'll let you know privately that I am not able write your request.

If the ASK box is open, I'm taking asks. When it's closed, I'm not.

[nightghoul381]

Falling for You Content Creator Challenge

Happy Fall Everyone! @judejazza and I decided to try our hand at a content creation challenge!

This will be an entirely SFW challenge!!

Rules:

This challenge will run from October 15th-November 30th I’ll be making and (will try to be) updating a masterlist as the challenge goes on

This is an SFW only event so all ages are welcome to participate (If you’re wanting to go with an NSFW idea, there are a lot of awesome challenges out there to participate in!)

Any and all forms of creations are accepted: fanart-fanfiction or anything else that strikes your fancy

The challenge will focus on the games in the Ikemen series (Ikemen Revolution, Ikemen Sengoku, Ikemen Vampire, Ikemen Prince, Ikemen Genjiden, Ikemen Villains)

There are two lists of twelve prompts each, feel free to use as many or as few as you like, mix and match to your heart’s content

Please tag both Freya and I in your fics (@judejazza and @nightghoul381) so we can find them easily and use the tag #falling4uccc so I can keep track of it for the master list!

The banner at the top is also free to be used for your submissions

We look forward to seeing all the amazing contributions!

There will be links to the songs and some ideas/clarification for the more vague prompts below, as well as a typed list of the prompts:

List 1

Walk in the Park

In Sickness and In Health

Coloured In Fire

Quality Time

All the Little Animals

Harvest

Sudden Downpour

First Cold Morning

When We Are Older

Twilight

Words of Affirmation

Trick or Treat

List 2

Hold me closer

Stars - Simply Red

All the Reasons I Love You

Night Changes - One Direction

It's a Kind of Magic

Can't Fight the Moonlight - LeAnn Rimes

I Wouldn't Have It Any Other Way

The Only Exception - Paramore

It's Warm in Your Arms

All Time Love - Will Young

Anything for You

Golden - Harry Styles

Coloured in Fire - Bonfires, fireplaces, wood fires, camping, fireworks, lanterns, the sky in the morning coloured orange as if it’s on fire.

All The Little Animals - Horse riding lessons, helping an injured animal, accidentally adopting an animal, stuffed animal toys, animal-shaped biscuits

Harvest - A harvest moon, a festival, helping on a farm, gardening

First Cold Morning - Hot drinks, jumpers, late morning bed snuggles

It’s a Kind of Magic - love spells, the magic of night, fairy tales, horror stories, a string of good events, fireflies

[kissmetwicekissmedeadly]

AHHHHHHH IT'S HERE!!!! IT'S HERE!!!!!!!

😭😭😭😭😭😭

AAAAAAAAAAA

IT'S AMAZING

THAT'S SUCH AN HONOUR i wrote that fic very quickly the other day and while i had SO MUCH FUN WITH IT i never expected it to be worth a fanart....and a fanart this good??? Im dead. I can't. Everything about this is amazing, i love love Love Olivia's character design with that hairstyle and that one-piece...... Im sorry but i so have a crush on her .....AND OF COURSE, ALICE'S SWIMWEAR!!! so silly!!! And the hat!!! Everything here is even better than how i imagined it.....im going to be looking at this and crying for a long time you can be sure about that....

DREW.......THANK YOU.... I DON'T DESERVE....

Merry Christmas to me i hope i dream of Olivia's ass tonight ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

I drew this for THIS FIC by @xxsycamore please go read it, its very fluff and much baka

bodyguard fem!oliver and alice

sorry for uhhhhhhhh making them stick their butts out like that. its for the viewers