#naera raumon

[midnight-bay-if]

How would you rate the ROs lap pillows out of 10?

S: 7/10 - There's enough space to enjoy, but their thighs are pretty firm.

Rain: 10/10 - Very soft, perfect height, and Rain can hold steady to impress you when needs be.

Taj: 7/10 - it's a nice pillow, but good luck getting them to sit still.

N: 9/10—Extremely comfortable, but they are very selfish with their lap pillows. It would be wonderful if you could get them to agree without switching places after ten minutes.

Umbra: 8/10 - They haven't the softest thighs, but they will happily remain still for as long as you wish to enjoy them, barely moving an inch.

[midnight-bay-if]

What is the one thing that each of our ROs would be most scared to hear from MC?

(For some reason, I have this vague recollection of answering an ask like this before, but I can't for the life of me find it, so I'm going to assume it was a hallucination of some kind :'))

S: "You cannot save everyone; you can't save me."

Rain: "It was your fault."

Taj: "I don't feel safe with you."

N: "You are a monster."

Umbra: "Who are you?"

(Taj was really difficult for me because there really isn't a lot MC could say to them they couldn't forgive or brush over and forget. Actions speak louder than words for Taj.)

[midnight-bay-if]

How would the RO's react to getting home super late and being greeted by a very sleepy MC hugging them and saying "I missed you" ?

S: Another long day, another broken promise. They had spent far too long relying solely on themselves, so when Rain suggested they delegate tasks to finish early, their brow creased, leaving them to wonder, 'Why?’. They enjoyed their work and had always believed in the principle of ‘if you want a job done well, do it yourself’. This had been a gross miscalculation and neglect on their part.  

They had left you waiting.

So, when they return home in the early hours, they expect to walk into a dark, cold house where an eerie silence taunts their lack of forethought. They are already composing an appropriate apology for you in their minds so they can properly express their regret the moment you open your eyes. They barely settle on a word, a foot barely in the door, before a weight pulls them into a warm embrace.

“I missed you.”

They did not believe it possible that their guilt could grow, but your whispered declaration only solidified in their minds how terribly they had behaved. “Forgive me, darling,” they whisper, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead, “I could offer an explanation if I thought to, but none would be adequate enough to explain my absence. I apologise for not returning to you sooner. If there is anything I can do—”

“Saying ‘I missed you’ wasn’t a criticism, my love,” you explain gently. “You’re passionate about your work, and I think it’s wonderful.”

“You’re far too good to me.” You notice the faintest flush on their cheeks, the stray hairs that are typically so perfectly in place, and their rising chest, and you realise how quickly they must have rushed home the moment they became aware of the time. They run their thumb softly across your cheek in a tender caress.  “I am impossibly fortunate to have you. If there is any way you would like me to reward your patience, tell me. I will make it so.”

Rain: They were feeling a bit spiteful—a surprise even to themselves. However, the desire for their time to be exclusively yours has become increasingly excessive since entering a relationship with you. It appears that Selby has grown more demanding. Their more reasonable side understands how perceptions influence the situation—Selby isn’t pushing them harder; they wish to spend more and more time with you—but that doesn’t diminish their sour mood in the least.

As soon as the mission concludes, they insist that Selby drives them to your apartment, practically flinging open the door without much consideration for the lateness of the hour. They simply want to see you.

It appears the feeling is mutual, for before their eyes can adjust to the sudden light, your arms are wrapping around their waist, your cheek nuzzling against their chest. “I missed you.”

Three words. That’s all it takes for a bad day to become joyous. That is a power you possess; it’s entirely yours. “I missed you, too,” they whisper, their arms squeezing you tighter. “So much. So, so much.” They release you just enough to gaze into your sleepy face. “But you must be terribly tired. Would you allow me to tuck you in?”

Taj: They felt the weight of the day on their shoulders, and all they wanted was to sleep until midday the following day. As always, they completed their mission with only minor grumblings about the late hour. Their complaints were never directed at Selby, not any longer. Theirs was an unenviable position, and Taj knew that despite heading home to their bed after a job well done, Selby would stay awake for hours yet, writing up a report while the details remained fresh, only to sleep for a couple of hours before getting to work making breakfast for the team while Taj rolled over in bed, refusing to be dragged out until dinner.

Well, that was how they lived before… before you.

Having a spare key to your apartment already seemed a bit absurd, but being welcomed with a tight embrace and a whispered ‘I miss you’ felt like an entirely different novelty. Someone misses them? They have someone who thinks of them when they are away? Someone willing to wait despite the myriad of reasons they give you not to? It’s stupid. Ridiculous. And the only reason they feel their heart beating.

“Hey, Koel,” they whisper in the tone they always adopt when feeling slightly soft and vulnerable, lacing their words with a sharp edge. “You shouldn’t stay up waiting if I’m working late. You’ll fuck up your sleeping habits.”

“You’d do it for me.”

“What makes you think I’d do something like that?” they scoff.

You smile. “You saw the sun rise this morning.”

N: It wasn’t their typical routine. In an ideal world, they wouldn’t spend two minutes outside your company. Not because their heart yearns for you (they are not that pitiful) but because their already waning power withers like a rotting apple after it has fallen from its tree, forgotten on the ground with the sun bearing down on it. You revitalise them in a dependency they despise relying on. This fettered symbiosis turns their stomach… but it has its consolations.  

So, when they return home in the dead of night, they are grateful to be breathing the same air as you once again—though taken aback by the sudden inhalation of your breath as you pull them into an embrace so tight that they fear it might burn you.

“I missed you.”

‘What nonsense!’ The reprimand imperils their tongue, yet they manage to suppress the biting remark before it can take root. Perhaps it isn’t the heat of their touch they should have worried about, but the sting in their words. This has so often been the case. There is power in the coercion, but far too often with you, their instinct is to forsake the charm in favour of chastising your gentleness.

How dare you lower your guard with me? They think. Do you not remember what I am? Why I am still here? Do you think that will change because you dare to love me?

They pull away just enough to run their fingers along your neck and towards your cheeks, cupping your face with the mercy of someone who understands that you have made the wrong choice, yet does not wish to inflict a wound where none need exist.

“Of course, you've missed me, my dear,” they cajole patronisingly, for the alternative is recognising their genuine gratification. “The feeling is entirely mutual, but I wouldn’t want to bolster your ego any further. There's hardly enough space in this tiny hovel for my own.”

They refuse to acknowledge that your ongoing confessions are far beyond what they ever deemed themselves worthy of, for to do so would be to concede that their power is not what they desire. Not any longer.

“Let’s go to bed, and I will demonstrate exactly why you have missed me so.”

Umbra: They hadn’t intended to be away for so long. Recently, you had been kindly encouraging them to take some time apart from you. Initially, they had interpreted it as a disparaging judgment of their character—believing you sought distance because you found them strange, broken, unsettling—but you swiftly reassured them otherwise in the dark of night with dishevelled sheets and honeyed words. No, rather, the distance was meant to encourage them to explore more of the world beyond you.  

Odd, they thought. Why must one be encouraged to leave their happiness behind? Fresh air and sunlight mean little to them compared to the light of your life. They are content to remain your shadow for as long as you shine.

But they did as they were told, your smile providing all the encouragement they needed. They did not venture far. The rooftop opposite your apartment felt like a sufficient distance, although they were uncertain about what an appropriate amount of time away would be. They did not want to disappoint you, so they fidgeted away the hours while keeping a watchful eye on your bedroom window. Just in case of danger, they promised.

When they finally feel brave enough to return home, they are taken aback as you squish them against yourself, leaving them fearful that something terrible has happened during their absence, despite their caution.

“I missed you.”

At first, they thought the words fell from their mouths since they parrot what they so often feel, but then they realise it was you. Their usual despondence at being held disappears in an instant, and their long limbs encompass your form, holding you with a strength they typically dare not evoke.

“Yes,” they mutter, the word choking their breath. “I have all the sun I need right here.”

(Hope you enjoy! But... I do seriously need to learn to rein it in if I'm ever going to finish writing the 40+ asks in my inbox.)

[midnight-bay-if]

NSFW

How would the ROs react to MC accidentally walking in on them while they’re changing?

(Sorry for the wait on asks everybody. Life has been... interesting.)

S: They have stripped down to their underwear, thumbs tucked into the waistbands, ready to bare all for a quick change before a mission. Nothing seems out of the ordinary... until the familiar sound of the old-fashioned door handle twisting with the usual struggle disrupts the silence, as the mechanism sticks at an odd angle. They sigh, anticipating Rain or Taj bursting in, their manners entirely disregarded. It's a routine they have come to expect, and they have had to set aside certain notions of decorum after working with them.

The self-conscious ideas of propriety seem to belong entirely to humans in their experience.

What they do not anticipate, with their hand half outstretched to still the turning of the handle, is coming face to face with your wide eyes when the door swings open.

A stunned silence hangs in the air... until both of you scramble for a way to salvage this greeting—you by covering your eyes with a hand, and they by hurriedly grabbing any material to cover themselves.

“I’m sorry!” you call, your eyes still firmly covered. “I think Rain just tricked me. They said you were waiting for me and that I should come straight in.”

They exhale sharply. Of course, they did. “It is quite all right; if you could give me a moment, I shall be with you shortly.” All the while ignoring their fluttering pulse and the fact that you are mere feet away from their bare skin. Would you dare look? Do they wish you would? When you don’t immediately leave, they cannot help but push. “Were you hoping for an invitation?”

“Right! Sorry!” The door slams shut behind you, and they already deeply regret your absence.

Rain: They hum a familiar tune of home as they pull off bright items of clothing, the door left ajar. They notice it, their leg half out of their trousers, and begin hopping over to close it properly. However, they only get partway before the door swings open, your voice trailing in soon after.

“Rain, there was something I meant to disc— Rain!”

Your shout startles them, their feet getting tangled in the legs of their trousers as they trip and fall to the ground. “Ouch!” they exclaim, landing elbow first. “What? What is it?” The note of surprise in your voice sends them into a panic.

“Y-You’re not dressed.”

Oh. Right. Yes, S did warn them about this. “Sorry! I forgot to close the door! I didn’t startle you too much?” they ask, slipping their pants back up their legs, feeling no real achievement since their chest remains bare. They finally notice how demurely you stare down at your feet, a hint of shyness that seems to emerge only when you are alone together, and their heart skips a beat. “Be out in a minute?”

You nod, darting out much quicker than you entered, and they smile. “Perhaps leaving the door open wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.”

Taj: They were meant to be alone. Rain informed them that everyone else had already left on their way out the door. It was quiet; there was no reason to doubt this. So, when Taj began shedding their clothes on the way to the bathroom, they thought little of it. The heating had been left on, and the place was sweltering due to the humidity. They leant forward, reaching to turn on the shower when they heard a voice.

“Taj, is that you leaving your clothes all over the floor?”

Your voice.

They swivel their heads towards the door, and there you stand, arms laden with various items of clothing, mouth agape, staring at their bare backside... until your eyes begin to trail of every scar.

“I didn’t know—”

Taj never gives you the chance to explain, slamming the door in your face with a resounding bang. They press their forehead against the wood, breathing harshly, their heart thundering in their chest as all the blood rushes to their… “Fuck.”

“Taj, are you alright?” They hear you through the door, and their breath shudders. Stop it. Stop talking. They need to calm down, and your voice… “I swear I didn’t realise you were, um, naked. Are you angry?”

Angry. It isn’t the first word that comes to mind; it would be easier if they were.

N: They are admiring every detail of their guise in the mirror. “The skin is so smooth,” they whisper, trailing their fingertips over the unblemished surface of their torso. So perfectly immaculate. That isn’t to say they are not also taken with their usual body; all the prongs and bumpy skin feel exquisite when in the throes of passion if you know how to use them, and they know. Well, they have never heard any complaints.

But there’s something about being human that is endlessly fascinating to them. The weightlessness of their head without their horns, the ease with which clothing can be slipped on and torn off without a tail… and the skin. So delicate, like the most exquisite silk. N would be lying if they claimed not to have thought about exploring each and every inch of yours.

As if summoned by fate, the bedroom door swings open, revealing you standing there, mouth agape, taking in the scene. “Now, which one of us is the mind reader, my dear?”

You shake off your surprise and swiftly squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m sorry! I d-didn’t know. I promise!”

“It’s quite all right. You can take a peek if you like.”

“N-No! Thank you!” you squeak, backing out the door, pulling the door with you.

“Are you sure? I certainly don’t mind—”

“Goodbye!”

They sigh, a little wistful. “Oh, well… maybe next time.”

Umbra: They never liked taking their clothes off. Each layer gets peeled back like they are being forced to peel off their own skin, grimacing as if in pain. They at least have the good sense to do it in complete darkness, with curtains shut and mirrors covered by whatever dark material they can get their hands on, so they don’t accidentally catch their reflection in the mirror.

It isn’t the scars or stitches that denote their marred limbs, nor their ghostly paleness that causes them pain, but the fact that, even stripped bare, they feel no colder. All of this is repulsive, and each inch of exposed skin serves as a reminder of the monster that lies within.

Most of their skin is bare when the door handle turns, and in you walk, nonchalant, without fear despite the wretch that they are. It is they who show fear. “MC! I-I’m not… I was getting changed—”

Only now do you realise what you have walked into. “Oh, Umbra! I’m sorry!” You squeeze your eyes shut, and Umbra feels as though they can breathe again. That’s right, MC. Close your eyes. Save your stomach from churning. They anticipate you heaving with disgust or running away as you retch… but you do none of those things. Instead, you turn, lashes fluttering demurely. Not ashamed, but embarrassed. Your fingers flex against your thigh before tugging at the hem of your shirt, as if shy.

You like what you see.

An impossible sensation seizes their chest, a tingling and heat they thought themselves incapable of feeling. They can live with being a monster if they are not monstrous to you.

[midnight-bay-if]

Romanced!ROs reactions to the MC telling them (sweetly, earnestly, lovingly), "I wish my dad could have met you."?

Your story gives me brain rot 💚 I just love how vibrant all the characters are!

(Thank you! It always makes me happy to hear people connecting with the characters :D)

S: The topic of parents was a source of tension between the two of you. They avoided discussing theirs due to a lifetime of unfulfilled expectations and disappointments leading to estrangement, while you… well, that much should be obvious. It’s not that you have ever explicitly warned them against mentioning James, but they dare not insert themselves where they are not wanted. They always understood that should you wish to share more about your father, you would do so on your own terms.

“I wish my dad could have met you.”

The whispered confession came amidst wonderfully inane ramblings and general chit-chat. They always enjoyed hearing your train of thought as you mapped out your day with every strange occurrence and benign encounter. Just being with you was enough to soothe their busy mind. Every moment like this feels irreplaceable. Yet, their ears catch the words at the same time they take in your demure expression, and somehow, the already irreplaceable becomes utterly invaluable.

They immediately reach out, taking your hand in theirs and holding it as if it were the most delicate and precious thing in the entire world, bringing it to their lips to press a gentle kiss against each individual finger, one by one.

“Would you tell me about him? I would love to hear anything and everything you wish to share.” And they listen. And listen. They hitch a ride on the rollercoaster of your emotions as you weep, laugh, and everything in between. It’s a beautifully awful thrill, and they feel privileged to have been invited to witness the end. “He sounds wonderfully eccentric in all the best ways. It would have been an honour to have met him.

Rain: Hearing about you has always been endlessly fascinating. Getting you to open up beyond surface details has been somewhat challenging, but when you did, knowing you trusted them enough to share the smaller details always put a massive grin on their face. It was a level of trust they had yet to extend themselves, and yes, they realise they are hypocrites for holding so much back. Their justification is that every new detail of your life they learn leads to a better understanding of you, which in turn allows them to take better care of you.

The topic of parents came up naturally after Rain convinced you to sit still through a watercolour. While they dodged every stray query in their direction, they parried with a barrage of their own.

“I wish my dad could have met you.”

They almost dropped their paintbrush. The words were heavy, but they were consumed with joy. They rush to you, almost tripping over their stool, and practically jump into your lap.

“Rain, paintbrush! You're still holding it.”

Too late. There’s a line of pale paint diluted with water running the line of your cheek. “Oh, sorry!” They quickly turn to grab a cloth before you pull them back into the embrace, undeterred.

“Forget it, I quite liked it.”

Rain relaxes, dropping the brush onto the floor so they can splay their fingers across your back. They struggle to express the reasoning behind their excitement for such a casual confession, but it has been so long since they considered themselves a permanent fixture in someone’s life. Sure, they had S and Taj, but the lines between colleague and friend blurred during missions, and the danger made everything feel temporary.

With you, everything feels safe.

“I know I would have loved him,” they agree, tucking their nose between your neck. “If he is anything like you, he had to have been wonderful.”

Taj: They were at a loss for words. No one could accuse Taj of being sensitive, and on more than one occasion since learning of your father’s demise, they had prodded you for details—sometimes out of genuine curiosity, other times to twist the knife. They feel ashamed of it now, but they didn’t believe you capable of true sorrow. More fool them.

So, despite Taj’s blunt questioning on more than one occasion, the words “I wish my dad could have met you” seem to come from absolutely nowhere. Taj feels their whole body freeze, their limbs stiffening to an almost comical degree. Your voice seems soft, as if afraid the words might offend them somehow; their answer matters to you, and that unnerves them. Because when it matters, they can never get it fucking right.

“I, um… yeah,” they begin awkwardly, running a hand through their hair, their ears twitching madly. “From what you’ve said… I mean, I don’t know much about human fathers or whatever; I’ve always pictured them as pitchfork-wielding madmen…” they grimace, cursing their clumsy tongue. “But based on what you’ve said… I think we might have gotten on. Or, well, I reckon we would at least agree that nothing matters more than your safety. So… yeah.”

It isn’t their most accomplished attempt at comfort, but they mean it. Every word.

N: They had lounged in your lap for what felt like hours, deep into the night. It was a rare moment of quiet that N had come to appreciate. Long gone were the nights of depraved debauchery; now, these moments of serenity had become far more practised. Not that you could consider them entirely innocent. If there were something they could say to make you blush, they would undoubtedly say it.

“I wish my dad could have met you.”

It seems it is your turn to evoke a reaction. “Pardon?”

“My dad,” you continue, a little more nervously twirling a long lock of their hair in your fingers. “I would have liked to introduce you to him.”

They laugh because they find the notion ridiculous. They had not intended to come across as cruel, yet the sound was mocking. “My dear, you do remember what I am, yes? I doubt daddy dearest would approve of their only child capitulating to a demon.”

They realise too late that it was the wrong thing to say. “Capitulating?” Your emotions are closing down; they see the shutters over your eyes shutting them out, and if they were not spread across your lap, they think you might have physically walked away.

“Forgive me, my dear,” they begin, desperate to salvage this moment if at all possible. “I was casting aspersions on my character, not your father's. I did not mean to sound dismissive.” They sit up, bring their face close to yours, smoothing over the creases with a gentle caress. “Here’s an idea: consider your most precious memories of him, and allow me to take a peek inside so I might get to know him as you do.”

Umbra: The words pierce their chest.

They had been enjoying a casual stroll by your side, their long limbs sometimes creaking uncomfortably with the movement, like a calf fresh from the womb as it stutters onto its hooves for the very first time. But you make everything entirely easy. You cannot help but explain memories that you believe are new to them, yet they remember just as readily. They wince a little at the pictures you paint when there is an obvious black blot in an otherwise perfect palette where the line between reality and imagination blurs.

But they push past it; their chest might ache, but you are smiling, so the rest can be buried. Then you say it: “I wish my dad could have met you,” and suddenly, every little stimulus threatens to overwhelm. You reach for them with open palms, and despite all their progress, they shrink from you like a child cowers from the cane.

What do they say? How honest do they dare to be? Too much. Your words are too big to be accepted by a heart so small. No. Not them. Not this. You don’t remember. They shouldn’t make you. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

And they clutch one hand with another to mask how they shake. “I’m sorry,” they whisper, although the apology seems malformed and misshapen, the words broken before you can mend them. “I waited too long, and now nothing fits. It’s wrong. I’m wrong.” You scowl with obvious concern. Their mind is scrambled, and explanations are hollow, yet there is little more they can offer. “I would have liked to have met him, too.”

Another version of them might have been braver.

(This is probably not my best work, but I've been feeling a little run down and working on little sleep recently. But I hope you find it satisfactory anyway!:))

[midnight-bay-if]

(Sorry if I sent this ask twice I wasn’t sure if I sent it in or not and if I did I’m currently gaslighting myself that I didn’t lol)

Anyways!

How would the ROs react (both crushing and dating) to a MC looking bittersweetly at someone else getting flowers. And when they ask what’s wrong, MC says that no one has ever gotten them flowers before.

(It's okay, anon. You did already send it in, but I don't mind :) Also, I know you said both crushing and dating stages, but I chose which stage would be most interesting for each RO. Hope this is okay!)

S (crushing): Their tongue is running away from their head--sometimes, after a chaotic morning of wrangling Taj and Rain, they need to vent, and you have always been a sympathetic ear. "Taj has an unfortunate tendency to pester Rain after being forced out of bed--" They stop, recognising your attention has deviated, no longer nodding along with them. They follow your eyes to a nearby couple exchanging flowers with bright expressions.

"They are pretty," Selby probes gently.

"Nobody has ever bought me flowers before."

Well, that certainly will not do. "Excuse me a moment."

You watch as they turn on their heel and jog toward the flower shop the couple just exited. Your eyes widen when they return with the largest bouquet of deep red roses you have ever seen. "Forgive my tardiness," they say, bending forward in a bow as they hand them to you. "I hope you do not consider this too presumptuous, but you have only expedited my plans, not defined them; I will surprise you with the next."

Rain (crushing): You whispered the confession after a long night of binge-watching old soap operas together on the couch. A man courting his neighbour knocks on her door with flowers bought from the local corner shop. You sigh wistfully, bemoaning the lack of flowers in your own life. Rain's heart thuds and they realise this is something they wish to rectify. But here, it is viewed as a largely romantic gesture... would you even want to receive flowers from them?

The next day, Rain waits for you to return to your apartment with bated breath. After spending the day wandering the town for the most beautiful wildflowers, they came home and began to weave. As you open the door, they hold up a carefully crafted flower crown with flowers of your favourite colours.

"I-I know it's not the same, but... I hope you like it."

Taj (dating): Taj scoffs as you pass the sickly, sweet couple; their nose twinges when the pollen from the flowers they exchange crawls up them, the scent enough to make them cringe. They turn to you, ready with a harsh word to ridicule them, when they catch you glancing forlornly back at them as you pass.

"What's wrong with you?" They ask testily.

"Oh, nothing; nobody has bought me flowers before."

Taj scowls. Their instinct is to ask why you would care; flowers die quickly when cut. Any manipulator could walk into a gas station, pick up a cheap bouquet of flowers, and be in their lover's good books for a week. But, for once, they keep their mouth closed. Even if it's not something they understand, your face tells them it would make you happy.

But rather than waste their money on dying flowers, they think of the next best thing. For two nights straight, they stay up, folding coloured pieces of card, book open in their lap as they create the perfect undying bouquet. They slice their finger more than once, cussing out the air as they perfectly align their origami flowers.

When you come home, they present your paper flowers, cheeks burning, and fingers covered in plasters. "I will never fold another piece of paper again."

N (dating): N used to scoff at the demons that made such obvious romantic overtures with their victims. That's what they were, after all. Victims. There's absolutely no way these demons felt genuine affection for these people. Their grand gestures were simply traps to ensure the continued cooperation of the human. Demons were incapable of love.

Which does nothing to explain their continued loitering in your life. Their reason for finding you ceased to be an issue quite some time ago. Sure, perhaps your mental entanglements have them on a leash somewhat, but they would be lying if they said it is impossible to snap such a tether. They could seek a way if they wished.

When you so longingly stare at a couple exchanging flowers with obvious envy... It doesn't displease them to think you may share such a glance with them.

N thinks on all the grand gestures they have witnessed in their time, and as usual, they do not wish to settle for second best.

You return to your apartment after a few hours away, a strong floral scent hitting you as soon as you open the door. The floor is lit up with a line of candles, deep red petals scattered between them. You follow the trail across your apartment to your bedroom door. You push it ajar, light spilling in, the scent growing stronger. N lounges on your bed, a rose pinched between their forefinger and thumb, large rose bushes of every colour filling the room.

"I hope these are to your liking, my dear."

Umbra (crushing): Umbra prefers walking when the sky is grey. The overcast weather may accentuate their pale skin, but they always feel it suits them more. Nothing could detract from your shine, but their shadows are vast and looming... the larger your light, the greater the shadow they cast. So, they were grateful you suggested window shopping while the weather was dull.

A moment for you and them.

You pass a flower shop, your eyes drawn to its interior as if magnetised. A couple exits as you step up to the glass. A woman stares down happily at the bouquet in her hands, and Umbra thinks their heart might be harder if it were capable. They turn to you, hoping to share in the blissful moment, but your eyes appear sad.

"What's wrong?"

"Nobody has given me flowers before."

Umbra gasps, and their brow furrows. This is not okay. This needs to be fixed.

Without hesitation, Umbra turns on their heel and storms towards the couple, manoeuvres in front of them and snatches the flowers out of the woman's hand. Then, without a word, runs towards you, waving the bouquet in the air with a massive grin.

"MC! I got you flowers!"

(I'm not gonna lie... I cracked myself up with this one.)

[midnight-bay-if]

what would the RO’s reactions be to an MC who always responds to ‘I love you’ with ‘I love you more’?

S: They smile softly, take your hand in theirs and press your palm against their cheek, leaning into it. "You are impossible, confounding, and I am entirely bewitched. If you believe your love is more all-consuming, I will endeavour to remind you how utterly enamoured I am, however often I must."

Rain: "Impossible," they point out confidently, resting their head on your shoulder. "And I'm willing to place bets on that. I think. I've never actually tried gambling before; Taj always said I would be terrible at it, but... I feel like this is a fact I can bet on."

Taj: "Are you really going to keep playing this game? You know the punishment," they warn, hands poised to strike. They inch closer towards you as you back away, but they don't let you escape. Before you can run, you are writhing in their hands as they tickle every sensitive spot they know.

N: Their lips flicker, and they conceal their thoughts behind the mask they wear so well. "If you say so, my dear, I am sure you are correct. After all, what could a demon like me know of love."

Umbra: Tears swell in their eyes, and they fervently shake their head. "Don't," they whisper, barely able to form the word. "I know what I am willing to sacrifice for you; I would never ask the same."

[midnight-bay-if]

What would the ROs do if they woke up to find the mc had left the room to sleep like on the couch or something because they didn’t want to wake the ROs up with nightmares?

S: Their eyes flutter open, noticing the hand they rested on your waist now clutches the cold sheets where you once lay. They do not hesitate to search for you but are stricken by what they find. You, curled into a ball on the couch, whimpering in fear from whatever haunts your dreams. It's a familiar picture, and it pains them that you feel obligated to bear it alone when you have been so gracious with their own nightmares.

Without a word, S carefully manoeuvres themselves on the couch so their chest is pressed against your back. They slide one arm under your head while the other cradles your arm, intertwining your fingers in theirs. "Do not isolate yourself needlessly, darling," they whisper, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. "We are aware of one another's darkness, yet here we remain. Please, do not starve me of my strength."

Rain: Rain is a light sleeper, so the moment the mattress rises from the lack of weight, their eyes flutter open to find you perched on the edge, readying yourself to leave. Before you can move, however, Rain reaches out, laying their hand atop yours, tugging your attention.

"Can't sleep?" They ask with a bleary smile.

"Nightmare," you repeat wearily, "It's okay. Go back to sleep. I'm going to sleep on the couch."

Rain's brow furrows, their lips thinning into a displeased frown. "Please stay. I don't like sleeping alone, you know?" They lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand that they hold. "If you are concerned about your nightmares keeping me awake, you needn't be. When alone, I do not sleep at all. I finally rest when I am beside you. Stay."

Taj: It takes until the morning for Taj to realise you sneaked out of bed in the night. Expecting to gather you in their arms the moment their eyes open, they are disappointed to find your side of the bed long cold. Grousing, they drag themselves out of bed to go hunt for you. They find you already in the kitchen making a pot of coffee, dishevelled hair and dark circles under your eyes.

"Didn't sleep well?" Taj queries, a cold stare you recognise all too well. It's the look of being perceived.

You shrug, trying to play off what you know they have already seen. "Nightmare," you offer, a slither of the truth, "but I didn't want to disturb you, so I tried sleeping on the couch."

Taj snarls, closing the distance and wraps their arms around your waist, resting their chin on your shoulder. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Pretend. I hate it." Their breath hitches. "I didn't even realise you were gone. I hate that, too. Wake me next time."

"You know you hate it when I wake you."

"Not if you're scared. Not if you need me."

N: N stretches their limbs, cursing the crick in their back as equally as the hard lumps in your mattress. They really must convince you to purchase something a little more luxurious. You'll thank them later. Their eyes flutter open, expecting to see you pressed closely to them, your rhythmic breathing lulling them sweetly back to sleep. But you are gone. Instinctively, they want to reach out with their mind to locate you, but they push it back down. Boundaries.

It's still dark, but N has no problem navigating it. The apartment is small, so figuring out where you have gone doesn't take a genius. Moments later, they find you curled into a ball, shivering and whimpering in your sleep. They tut, shaking their heads.

"I really wish you would ask for help, my dear," they whisper to themselves, kneeling until they are level with you. They press a hand to your forehead, allowing some of their warmth to seep into your skin. "Allow me to lay to rest whatever is troubling you inside that noggin' of yours, love, or at least let me stand beside you. Do not hide from me."

Umbra: Usually, Umbra spends their nights curled up at your window or lying beside you, guarding your sleep against those who might impose. It mostly depends on you. They like watching you fall asleep pressed against them because sometimes, on occasion, they allow their own eyes to shut. They do not need to, but being with you inspires hopes of ordinary domesticity; it reminds them to live.

But it never lasts long. The moment you shift in your sleep, and the fidgeting and the whimpering starts, Umbra is awake and alert. They once asked S what they might do to help in such a situation, but there is no magic cure, just reassurance. "I am here," they whisper, unsure if you can hear. "You are safe. You are safe." The words are a safety net they sometimes question whether they know how to wield.

You wake with a start, shoving yourself to the other side of the bed, chest heaving and hands shaking. You stare at Umbra, eyes wide, fear gripping your throat. "I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?"

"No," Umbra replies simply. "You never could."

"Would you prefer me to sleep elsewhere?"

"Why would I prefer that?" They query, cocking their head to one side. "I cannot protect you if you are anywhere else."

(Hopefully this was okay!)

[midnight-bay-if]

Hi! Hope you're doing great! I came across this in another IF blog, and it sent me down a thinking spiral. I just think it's so thought provoking. Feel free to ignore if too spoiler-y, or if you just want to. RO's reactions and choice to either save MC and sacrifice the world, or save the world and sacrifice MC.

Have a great day!

(Hello! I'm certainly trying to be well, haha, but thank you for asking :) A similar question was asked some time ago, but under the guise of Eren Yaegar and the rumbling. Which is here. But since that ask is talking about MC destroying the world in particular, I'll answer this separately.)

S: Their duty demands them to protect the innocent, but MC is innocent as well. It's an impossible choice. A paradox. But do not get their answer twisted. S will do everything and anything in their power to save both; they will place themselves in the most advantageous position to maintain control. But in the end, if they fail, they would have to choose the world.

Rain: They understand the devastation of losing their entire world. Perhaps it would be a mercy for MC to die rather than watch their world burn.

Taj: MC becomes their world. Why should the gods take anything else from them? Who gave them permission? Taj doesn't give a fig for the rest of the world. Let MC live. Let Rain live. Let Selby live. The rest of the world can go to hell.

N: Devastation is a landscape N is more than accustomed. Bring it on. They have everything they need.

Umbra: Nothing matters more than MC. Nothing. What's the point of a world without MC in it?

[midnight-bay-if]

How would the ROs react if a drunk MC, when they are already dating each other, go to them and ask if they are single? As MC is trying to flirt with them.

Bonus: if RO say they are NOT single, since they are in a relationship with MC, the same starts to cry a LOT because they feel like they just lost their soulmate.

(I had to leave out the bonus suggestion for Umbra because there is no way they would be willing to tease MC like that, lol. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy :))

S: It was a rare night off for them, and they were spending it celebrating with you. The party spirit had truly overcome you; perhaps the bar should have already stopped serving you, but you didn't seem inclined to slow down. S reasoned with it by watching you and inwardly promising to keep you out of trouble since seeing you unwind for once has been a treat. You are laughing. It's nice.

Then, suddenly, as if stricken by a surprising heat, you set your sights on them. You climb onto the chair next to them, a sultry smile teasing your lips. "You are very... attractive, and I see the way you look at me," you declare through a hiccup, "you single?"

Their eyes widen, and then they chuckle. "Not at all," they reply, still smirking, "I'm afraid I am in a very committed relationship with a beautiful soul who definitely does not know their limit."

Your face falls, tears welling in your eyes. "No..." Your head drops onto their shoulder. "...But I truly believe you are my soulmate."

They lower their head, resting it on yours. "As you are mine."

Rain: Rain tried not to drink. From previous experience, the most unfortunate version of themselves comes out when inebriated. All snot, tears and vomit. It's pathetic to witness. But they have been happily supping on a mocktail while you have been gradually getting more and more loosened up. While they grow sadder under the influence, you laugh. It's nice to see another side of you.

The night goes on, and you grow quieter. Apparently, at some point, you pass a threshold you shouldn't have because you stare at them in an entirely different way. Almost as if you are looking through them. Then, you shake yourself and begin scooting yourself closer.

"You are very attractive."

"Oh, I, uh... thank you, MC."

"Are you single?"

Rain inclines their head to one side, wondering for a moment if you are joking, But you don't laugh. In fact, you look at them rather seriously. "No, I'm not."

You collapse against the table, burying your face in your arms. "No... but I'm so sure you are my soulmate."

Rain's entire chest warms before their face turns flush.

Taj: The difference between you sober and drunk wasn't immediately apparent. You were holding your liquor pretty well. For a human. Or, so they thought. The first sign you might be more affected than they initially thought is how you dance. Your feet no longer step in time with the music, and you slightly tumble into other dancers who guffaw at every misstep.

Taj was ready to gather you back to the table they were occupying until you stumble across on your own with a titillating smile. You fall into the seat next to them, your breath tickling their cheek as you grow closer.

"Hello, good-looking," you mutter with glassy eyes. "Are you single?"

"No!" Taj scrunches their nose in disgust at the question. Utterly offended, they cross their arms across their chest and inch their body slightly away. "And you should know that better than anyone."

Your brows furrow, taken aback by the sudden hostility. Then, tears swell in your eyes. "So, I don't have a chance? But I'm sure you are my soulmate."

Taj cuts off the curse on the tip of their tongue, their face growing a little softer from your admission. "You're an idiot, Koel." They gently take your hand and pull it into their lap, forcing you closer. "But you are my idiot."

N: They are in their element. It's rare to get you to unwind like this. Understandably so, but when they asked you to come and enjoy the nightlife with them, they half expected you to say no. You didn't. Before they knew it, both were knocking back drinks one after another in between bouts of very close dancing. Entirely on purpose on their part. There are far too many eyes on you tonight; everyone should know exactly who you are with. You are theirs.

Sometimes, it is all too easy to forget - especially with how effortlessly you seduce them - that you are human. So, when they take a break at a table, and you join them moments later on shaky feet, they are surprised to see your glassy eyes staring at them as if they are a stranger.

"So, you are very attractive and I have consumed enough liquid courage to fill a bucket. Single?"

They laugh. How could they not? Humans are so ridiculous. They lean closer, gaze heated. "Mmm... the things I would do to you right now if you were sober...Alas... As it happens, I'm not single."

"No..." Your head drops against their chest, and they think they hear you cry. "But I'm sure you're my soulmate."

The word catches in their mind. Their heart begins to race, and their palms turn hot and clammy. For the first time, they feel disgusting in their disguise. "Doubtful," they whisper, choking on it. "But even if you deserve better, I'm not letting go."

Umbra: Their eyes dart to every corner at least thrice when you change positions. Why else would you ask them to come if not to ensure you were safe? They look like a fish out of water sitting in the corner with their hands tucked at their sides, but even if they do not know how to conduct themselves, they like watching you dance.

You have had a few drinks - well, more than a few but they aren't exactly sure what too much alcohol looks like. They have noticed you are a little less stable and swaying back and forth more as you move. Nothing about it stands out as odd, until you set your eyes on them with the look of a predator stalking its prey. You stalk over to them, your ankle bending uncomfortably as you walk, then fall into the booth next to them.

"Hello, good-looking," you greet cheekily. "I've seen you staring at me. Are you single?"

Umbra's brows shoot up in alarm, and they feel their hands begin to shake. "I'm dating you!"

You smile brightly. "I'm dating you?! Woah! I hit the jackpot."

You seem happy, even slipping your hand between their arm to hook around it. It settles them a little. But they won't be truly content until they see in your eyes the recognition that keeps them tethered to this world. What else is there but that?

[midnight-bay-if]

Crushing!ROs reactions' to the first time they see the usually-grungy MC all fancied up?

S: Their eyes wander to yours, and all movement, aside from their shaky intake of breath, stops. The fancy baubles and expensive materials are mere decorations for your magnificence, but every feeling you have ever evoked demands they bear witness to you now. You are resplendent.

They cough, averting their eyes to prevent staring. "You never fail to surprise me."

Rain: They never placed much stock in appearances. People looked the way they looked until they didn't. That's just how they saw it. Then, you walk in dressed so intricately, and they forget how to breathe. You look like a painting; breathtaking, iridescent, a masterwork. Rain itches to grab their paints and put colour to the memory, so they never forget when your eyes met theirs.

"I... I don't think there's going to be a person in this place whose eyes don't stray to you tonight..."

Taj: They don't care what you wear; they care more about how stupidly long the wait has been for you to make yourself presentable. Then, they see you, and the ache in their feet vanishes instantly, and their ears twitch as their stomach churns uneasily. Suddenly, you feel so far out of their reach that it brings them shame.

"For what it's worth," Taj states before their nerves can silence them, "I don't think you need to be fancy to turn heads... You do it well enough already. Ask me to repeat that, and you'll regret it."

N: They have waited for this moment with trepidation. You allure them well enough without needing extravagant detail, but N has always desired the finer things in life. Upon hearing of the excuse to play dress-up, N was practically flinging you into a changing room to get started.

The moment their eyes meet yours, they are besotted. Their elegant lines of clothing only accentuate what they already knew existed beneath. So much of you had been hidden before; now they see it all plainly, and it utterly seduces them. What a fool they must be.

"You are a spectacle, my dear. I hope you will stay close; I would hate to have to share you this evening."

Umbra: Clothing is practical; it has uses. They weren't aware clothing could also be a statement until you revealed yourself entirely changed. They don't understand why their ice-cold heart begins to thaw upon the sight. You are wonderful. They have thought so since your tiny hand reached for them in darkness, an outreach of kindness despite their bloodied blade.

They saw you then. They see you now. You are wonderful.

"I am afraid my darkness might cast a shadow on your shine, MC. But allow me to bask in it a moment longer, at least."

[midnight-bay-if]

Ro's reaction to MC who teasingly leans in to give them a kiss on the lips.... only to kiss them on the cheek on purpose *cough* on accident

S: They wait readily for the moment your lips press against their own, leaning forward in anticipation, only for you to artfully dodge their advance and kiss their cheek instead. Not wasting a moment, S reaches up to grasp your chin in their hand, firm enough to keep you still but not enough to restrain should you wish to break free.

"This will simply not do,” they mutter, leaning close enough to count the shades of colour in your eyes. “Now you have tantalised me, and I can be demanding when lured. Do not leave me wanting, darling."

Rain: They are smiling. A smile that quickly falls upon the location of your lips changing direction. They do not let you move far. Before you have even fully basked in their reaction, they are chasing you with their lips. You laugh, dodge, laugh again, and ultimately surrender to Rain's attack, letting them press a soft kiss to your lips.

"There," they whisper, pulling back barely a hair's breadth, "I used to be too afraid of the chase, MC, but no more."

Taj: They feel stupid for having waited for it. You leaned forward as usual; nothing about your body language suggested mischief, but it should have. The quick kiss on the cheek should have been sweet, but it wasn't enough. They want more. They swipe out a hand, fingers curling over the delicate line of your wrist to hold you in place. They bring your hand up against their chest, resting it against their beating heart.

"I've never enjoyed being teased, Koel," they mumble, ears twitching.

"Liar."

N: It's a game they play well. The kiss on the cheek does not come as a surprise, and N is already planning their next move. They smile languidly, their cheek resting on their hand, waiting for you to move again. And you do. You lean forward closer, readying yourself to relent to their waiting lips. They don't give you a chance. They lean to the side, pulling back just out of reach. Your sigh of frustration is music to their ears, and they laugh.

"I'm sorry, my dear, I could not resist..." This time, they initiate the advance, cupping your face and neck to keep you steady. "Allow me the chance to apologise properly."

Umbra: At first, they don't realise you are being playful. They see you tug on their sleeve, gesturing for them to lean forward slightly, so they do. They think you mean to tell them something, something for their ears alone. Instead, you gently kiss their cheek and pull back with a cheeky grin. But Umbra is still there. Still in the moment of your lips pressing against the cold expanse of skin.

They reach up, hands trembling, as they press the tips of their fingers against the heat of the spot your lips just were. "What did I do to earn that?”

[midnight-bay-if]

hiii, hope the flu’s gone away even if somewhat, bug my ask is a spin on this ask;

https://www.tumblr.com/midnight-bay-if/768586461085908992/hmhmhm-if-youre-up-for-it-mc-tackling-their-ro

but uh-oh! they CAN’T get up because they’ve been wounded/too damaged TO get up, how would the RO’s react then?

(sorry if i already asked this in some form, i think last time i did was like 4am and much less coherent)

(I wrote these as if the ROs are already in a relationship, but also, I had to make sure the MC showed a sign of life at the end because my emotions have been yo-yo-ing recently, and I don't think I can bring myself to go full pain, haha. I can direct you to this ask for that :) Sorry this took so long!)

S: Initially, It isn't apparent what - or who - hit them. One moment, they were deflecting blows from a particularly pertinent foe; the next, they were on their side, the gravel of the ground cutting into their skin. The burn is enough to distract them initially, but the dead weight on top of them eventually demands an audience. They regret their hesitation almost immediately. "MC!"

They carefully manoeuvre themselves out from beneath you and lay you flat on your back. You are bleeding heavily, and your eyes aren't open. They have already jostled you too much to escape, so they will not try to move you further. "Time to wake up now," they say aloud, ignoring the crack in their voice as they appraise your injuries. "Rain! Call an ambulance!" They trust that their voice carries because they cannot bear to look away from you for even a moment.

They tear at the pieces of their clothing that are thin enough to tear and create tourniquets for the deep cuts on your limbs. It's not enough, but it is all they can do to stem the bleeding. "I'm so sorry, darling," they whisper, reaching down to take your hand, holding it against their chest, ignoring how limp it feels. "I'm sorry I was not quick enough; it should be me... it should be me..."

It is almost too good to be true when they feel the lightest squeeze of your hand against theirs.

Rain: They know it is you almost instinctively. You have always been so brave; of course, you wouldn't think twice about knocking them out of danger. It's who you are. It's one of the reasons they fell in love with you in the first place. But... this?

They see you limp, motionless, and it feels like their heart has been ripped out through their throat. Or maybe that's the feeling of a scream being shredding their throat. "No, no, no, no," they whimper, over and over, as they frantically search for signs of life. It is lucky Selby is beside them because Rain is no longer in control of themselves. The urge to maim, to kill, to seek vengeance is something they learned to push down some time ago, but it all comes back in a rush.

The words "they are still breathing" are all that stops them. Selby rises to get help, leaving Rain alone by your side. Knowing you are still breathing, Rain presses their forehead against yours so they can feel your breath hitting their cheek. "I am here, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

It may have been their imagination, but they are sure they see your lips twitch a smile.

Taj: "Watch it, you lump," Taj gibes, thinking you had mistakenly fallen into them. It's only when you both fall down, and you do not get back up that they realise the severity. You should be arguing with them, telling them it's their fault for not paying attention, or shouting that you are okay. Anything. "MC, get your ass up."

You don't even flinch.

Taj sees red. The person responsible has their throat ripped out before they can take their next breath. "Taj, leave it! Focus on MC!" Selby gives the order, but they do not know if they can. How can they bear to see? What if you are not breathing? What if you have just died protecting them because they were too damn slow?!

It feels as if their heart is being crushed in their chest, but they force themselves to their knees beside you. "MC, wake the fuck up! I'm not kidding!" They shout, slapping your face enough to sting without bruising. When that doesn't work, Taj grabs your hand and holds two fingers against your pulse point. They feel it.

"Keep fighting, koel; I owe you a kick in the ass for doing something so stupid."

N: It all happened so quickly. They had been taunting their latest prey, enjoying watching them squirm beneath their fingers, when suddenly, a scream - your scream - rings inside their head, and they are hurtling across the floor. The pain is nothing compared to the silence that follows.

They twist their head around and see you there, lying still; now it is they who scream. "I forbid it," they whisper, crawling to you with all the will they have left, ready to give it to you - in their blood if they must. When their hand reaches your shoulder, they cup your cheek with the other, your blood soaking their hand. They are about to choke on their grief when they see your chest rising. "You're alive," they whisper, aghast. "Now you stay alive, you hear? I would be awfully put out if you died, my dear. I came a long way to find you; you wouldn't let that be for nothing, right?"

They will wait to hear your answer for however long it takes.

Umbra: They let down their guard. How dare they?! HOW DARE THEY?! Umbra's entire world turns black. For a moment, they return to their natural state: the creature who knows no will of their own, an echo, a weapon... and then they open their eyes. They stand in a puddle of blood of their own making, surrounded by those who dared.

Then, they rush to you with blood-soaked hands, but dare not touch you. Tears in their eyes, they rub their hands against their clothes, but the blood merely smudges, the metallic tang making them gag. "I-- I can't, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

Umbra doesn't know what they meant to say. They only wish to make it stop. To make it all stop. This wasn't supposed to happen. You were not supposed to do this. This is for them. Not you. Not this. "I am scared."

Death is easy; loss is unconscionable.

Then, they see it; your chest rises with a breath. "Yes! Breathe!" They laugh hysterically, finally grabbing your hands in theirs. "I- I do not know how to make it go away, so I will get help. You are going to be okay; I promise."

(P.S. It is very difficult to write when a cat is adamant that your seat is theirs.)

[midnight-bay-if]

Sooo... How experienced are the ROs? Romantically and in bed? I think everyone knows the answer for N, but the others I'm not too sure about.

(I have no idea what you're trying to imply 😂 N is clearly celibate and completely innocent. /j)

S is a big believer in long courtships and sharing genuine feelings before sleeping with someone. They do not pass judgement on those who do not feel this way, but it's important for them to be sure before falling into bed with someone... because if they have sex with you, they will fall in love with you. It's happened once before, and it did not end well.

So that should give you an idea of their experience.

Rain loves very deeply, openly and often. Or did, anyway. They have become much more reserved in recent years. But, it would be fair to say they are experienced, despite their age.

Taj has fallen into bed with a few people in their time, but romance? Not really. Their interest has mostly been in the physical.

N: They have had many bedmates, but all kicked out come morning.

Umbra: None. Zilch. Nada.

[midnight-bay-if]

Hi! :3

What if MC had to break up and marry that new person? Maybe it was blackmail, maybe it was political threat or something. So, for many years MC had to live with this lie and abandon the person they truly love? But somehow RO gets to know about it??

(It took me a long time to figure out how to answer this; I hope these are okay!)

S: They hear the rumour through the grapevine; a coerced marriage, heartbreak, fear, all leading to sombre acceptance. It's everything their parents wanted for them, but somehow the fate has become yours. It all balls up inside them; the anger, the hurt, the sadness for you... it's overwhelming. Why would you choose to settle? Why would you not come to them for help? These are questions they are desperate to ask but can do nothing until they have looked you in the eye and seen the answers that lie within. This time, they promise, they will not look away.

Too many years wasted already, they refuse to waste a second more. Now, they will do what they do best; concoct a plan, arrange a meeting, coerce their way to your side. Nothing is off the table. They are prepared to bet it all to see you returned to a life of happiness.

They made a promise to you, after all.

Rain: S tried to protect them from any news of you, knowing how much it hurt. But once they hear the truth, it tears them up inside. Had the roles been reversed, would they have done the same? The thought they might have shames them. They do not blame you. Your desire to protect was just one of the beautiful shades of your mosiac they fell in love with. So much of their colour dulled when they lost you. They fear the same may have happened to you. They want it back; they want you back.

So, they will find you. They will stand firm, steady. If you tell them you are unhappy, if they see it within you, nothing in this world could prevent them from pulling you free. Even if it means dragging the ugliest parts of themselves from the deepest dredges they drowned back to the surface, they will. For you.

Taj: Taj doesn't remember the exact moments that followed being told the news, only that the room was turned over, furniture clawed into, and ornaments shattered on the ground. Their heart thunders against their ribs; their bones rattle with the uncontained fury as their hands shake. Anything is preferable to the stinging sensation of tears they desperately try to abate.

They are pissed at you. How could you decide this all on your own? Why? Did you think they would feel sorry for you? Not even a little bit. You should have come to them, trusted them. Did you think your act of self-sacrifice would ease your fuckin' ego? Well, since you took the choice from them, they will take it from you. They will find you. Get you back. Pull you into their arms, and never fuckin' let go.

Your spouse is going to feel every ounce of pain they suffered without you.

N: How you continue to surprise them is a mystery all on its own. They never believed you were the type to just roll over. They still refuse to believe it. It would be easier for them to think you had truly changed your heart and fallen for another who wasn't riddled with their cruelty. But no. You had given yourself over to someone just as cruel. It infuriates them, the rage tearing in their gut, burning through the magical disguise they once wore so easily.

Who did you think you were protecting? Clearly not yourself.

Well, perhaps they will find out why while squeezing the life out of your spouse; they can explain it all through the gurgles of their death rattle. As far as they are concerned, the demon they buried for you deserves some play time.

Umbra: They do not hesitate. All the pain, the discomfort, the fear; they shove it all down, pushing their body past its limits to find you, to reach you. They never should have let you go. They should have been there. It's all their fault. Useless. Pathetic. Worthless.

It's been a long time since they thought to press a dagger to a man's throat without your say so, but they regret not doing so the moment your spouse thought to snatch you away. They wanted to be the person you saw in them; they did. But in the end, they were always this. If you tell them to stop, they will consider it. They promise.

But they would be lying to themselves if the thought of letting their hand "slip" wasn't ever so sweet. They may be a monster, but so are those who dared force this on you.

[midnight-bay-if]

How would the RO’s react to accidentally walking in on the MC changing during the crushing phase?

S: They already have their question prepped, glancing down at the papers in their hands with purpose. Their mind is cluttered, chaotic; they need to ask you now before the next item on their itinerary takes precedence. So, momentarily, manners are left aside. They push open the door to your bedroom, the question already on the tip of their tongue, when they come face to face with you, holding out a shirt to your bare torso to cover your modesty.

"Ah, apologies, MC!" They declare, whipping their face in the opposite direction to you so fast you would think they had been struck. "Forgive me; my question can wait." They leave the room without waiting for a response, closing it securely behind them. Red-faced, cheeks burning, they wait patiently beside the door, knuckles white from the grip on the paper.

They squeeze their eyes shut, desperate to push the mental image out of their mind. This is not how they first wanted to see your skin bared. "Idiot, Selby. Damn idiot."

Rain: Rain is still learning. Personal space and privacy were foreign concepts back home. So, when Rain decides they want to talk to you, they do not even stop to think about the closed door separating you from them. They push it open, stepping into the room without a second thought. When they see you standing there, half-dressed with wide eyes, their cheeks heat up, but otherwise, they do not blink.

"MC, I was thinking--"

"Rain!" You scold, doing your best to cover yourself more.

"Oh," Rain mumbles, some of Selby's etiquette lessons coming to the surface of their mind. "This is rude, isn't it?" Mortification wraps into guilt, and Rain quickly turns their back. "So sorry, MC! I forgot! I wasn't trying to look, I swear!"

It's a lesson they will not forget again.

Taj: As far as they are concerned, they are trapped in your suffocating apartment against their will. They could be at the Selby Manor with their own room, filled with home comforts and surrounded by quiet gardens with only the birds for company. Instead, they are pacing one room with headphones on, doing their best to drown out Rain's incessant chatter. So, when they decide to push open the door of your bedroom without knocking, are they doing it on purpose to be irritating? Yes. But would they have done it if they knew they would greeted with the sight of your bare, flushed skin? No. Of course not.

"Fuck!" They exclaim, slapping a hand over their eyes. "Couldn't you put up a sign?! Or, I don't know, fucking tell us you are getting changed!"

"But it's my room--"

Taj doesn't wait for you to finish your sentence, slamming the door shut behind them. They drop their forehead against the door's wood, breathing heavily against it. When the image of you doesn't immediately dissipate, they begin banging their head against it.

"Stop thinking about it. Do. Not. Think. About. It. Damn it, S is going to kill me."

N: If anything, it is your fault. You have already expressed an interest in a quiet mind in moments of solitude. N is only trying to accommodate your requests. So, when N stumbles upon you half-naked, it is only because you asked them to come to find you in person should they wish to discuss anything.

Your startled cry as you cover yourself with your shirt is adorable, actually.

"Oh, MC, you really shouldn't have," they tease, smirking, leaning against the door frame. "If I had known your mental blocking was intending to entice me into your room, I would have come in sooner."

"I wasn't..." You huff, the frustration they find so endearing bubbling to the service. "Please leave."

They shrug. "Have it your way, my dear," they reply, pushing off the doorframe. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Umbra: They have spent far too much time on the outskirts of civilisation, watching from afar. Boundaries are a new concept to them. Learning human behaviour from the shadows at a distance has left their education in some areas needing improvement. Umbra is just excited to be close to you, always. Even if you can't necessarily see they are present, they would happily watch you from the darkness.

There was never anybody around to teach them it was wrong.

You taught them enough to announce their presence - that they no longer need to skulk in the shadows. You are happy to have them near. But the lesson failed to teach them that sometimes they have to wait for a response before entering your space.

They knock sharply, already reaching for the door handle. "MC, It's Umbra. I'm announcing myself," they state bluntly, pushing the door open, made all the quicker by the startled yell you release as your feet tangle in your pant leg. Umbra shoots to your side, dismissing your half-nakedness in favour of checking for injury. "MC, are you okay?"

"It was a good attempt, Umbra," you say, trying to be encouraging. "Maybe next time, wait until I say you can come in?"