#rip my precious french boi

[lesbiantoaster]

What is lost, what is found (Lenore x Annabel - Nevermore)

Firstly a disclaimer is due: I'm European and don't know how to English. And it's my first time writing such a long text. I just needed to put this short story somewhere which isn't in my head. I apologise in advance...

Sound of heels tapping on wooden flooring as four pairs of feet run through the corridors of the Nevermore Academy. Blood roared in their ears as Ms Poppet's words about Duke's whereabouts has been ringing in their heads. They hardly let her finish as Lenore run from the lecture to confirm her worst fears, and the rest of the gang followed her suit. Finally, they reached the merits table and frantically started scanning the list looking for Duke's name but couldn't find it... No thought Lenore as she felt her throat fighting and her sight getting hazed. No... No... NO! Her legs finally gave away as Lenore's knees hit the floor and tears slowly began to flow down her cheeks. Shortly after she was joined by the rest of the gang. Everyone was crying and hugging each other really hard, yet it felt so wrong since each of them could feel the gaping emptiness left behind by their friend. It can't be... cried Lenore in her mind as she looked up once more just to make sure Duke's name wasn't there.

There was a barely audible "No!" heard behind them. All of them turned their heads towards the newcomer just to see a very distressed Morella frantically scanning the merits table till reaching the ultimate conclusion - Duke's gone... Behind her, there was the group of people Lenore wanted to see the least. Ada and Will were standing beside sinisterly grinning Montressor and Lenore noticed that they were suspiciously avoiding looking in her direction. Prospero was standing a little bit further behind the group leaning against the common room's threshold looking stoic as always but also a little intrigued by the whole situation. But the only person who caught Lenore's attention was Annabel. Memories of their last conversation flashed in Lenore's mind (but that's another can of worms that'd be better not to be opened right now). The blond was trying to look indifferent to this whole situation but Lenore spotted the look of surprise and worry behind the ice queen mask.

"YOU!" Morella's voice startled everyone presents in the room. She turned violently and strode towards Montressor. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!?!" she stopped about two meters before him "WE'VE AGREED NOT TO DO ANYTHING TO OTHER STUDENTS!!" no one has seen her this furious before.

But it wasn't enough to make any impression on Montressor, who just laughed and said "And what do you think I exactly have done doll?" then walked away saying "Let's leave these losers to themselves." to Ada and Will, then proceeded to go upstairs to the dormitories. Prospero gave the gang one more look before climbing the stairs himself. Annabel followed him shortly after but not before sending Lenore one last look that could mean only one thing "Meet me later". The five were left there in silence not really knowing what to do next.

After meeting with Annabel in the broom closet, Lenore entered her and Morella's room as silently as possible not to wake her roommate. As she closed the door behind, her ears were filled with the low tones of the bell signalling the beginning of the curfew. Sighing to herself Lenore changed into her nightgown and get into bed. She cast one last worried look towards the sleeping figure of Morella who looked so small. One could tell she cried herself to sleep. I hope she'll find some peace in her sleep thought Lenore and blew out the lamp standing by her bedside.

Laying in the darkness Lenore couldn't sleep. Instead, she was tossing around trying to calm down her thoughts which were speeding through her mind like bolts of lightning during a really bad storm. She was tired and broken. Sleep was the only relief she craved but wasn't granted as her mind was tormented by the events of the last twenty-four hours and the revelations they'd brought. Finally, her body falls into a light dreamless sleep.

The next day she was gently woken up by Morella.

"The breakfast will begin shortly. Would you like to join me and the rest?" asked Morella with a small voice.

"No, I'm good. Thank you." answered Lenore looking with a blank expression on her face at the ceiling. She waited until Morella exits the room when she got up and dressed for the day. She sat on the edge of her bed for a while trying desperately to make her limbs listen to her will. She felt empty. Eventually, she got up to fetch her suitcase. She opened it and took out a small ring box. She already knew what was inside, yet she couldn't help the tears once her eyes spotted the wedding band inside. She fell on the floor with a thud while her cries filled the room and her chest was filled with heartache. Now everything about her life was clear. She should be relieved... dare she say happy even, yet the only thing she felt at the moment was pain. After a while when Lenore managed to calm her nerves a little bit, she sat once again on her bed looking intensely at the small box in her hand and let the thoughts flow through her mind.

When it was time to start heading down to classes Lenore got up and looked through the window. She regarded the landscape before her. I will NOT let it go unpunished, Duke... Lenore thought with newfound determination And I will get our friends out of this hell... all of them! For you, my friend. I WILL find a way! Then she recalled all of her friends' faces and vowed them the same thing. Lastly, her mind was filled with the images of Annabel. A small smile tugged onto her lips and warmth filled her chest as she took out the wedding band and put it on her ring finger with a small "I do..." escaping her mouth, before going down to Ms Poppet's class.

During the classes, Annebel kept casting worried looks in Lenore's direction. She wasn't really paying attention but knew she can ask Morella for notes later after dinner. Because let's be honest - Ada who sat next to her probably pays even less attention to the lecture than she does, daydreaming about some foolish fantasy of hers. Annabel hardly slept last night thinking of all the things that happened that day. She hoped that she was finally getting through to Lenore who started remembering more of their lives but the happiness was short-lived since Duke's second death. She was sure that Montressor was somehow behind Duke's demise but she just wasn't sure how. But she was determined to find out and make him (or whoever else it might be) pay for it. For Lenore. Oh, Lenore... Annabel looked towards her beloved. She's been worried for her pet since their first talk yesterday. And the feeling only managed to grow stronger as the day progressed. She was worried sick at breakfast when she noticed that Morella came down without her dashing roommate. The blond recollected their last conversation just before the curfew.

"Pet! You have to believe me... I have no idea what might have happened to Duke" Annabel pleaded as she tried to put all of the remaining energy she still possessed to convince Lenore of the sincerity of her words. They've been talking while hiding inside this broom closed for at least half an hour. Annabel would be delighted if it wasn't for the grim reality of the situation.

"But what was that thing Morella said about you agreeing not to harm others?" Lenore asked. She was tired but she had to make sure Annabel wasn't behind Duke's fate. That would be simply too much for Lenore to handle...

"It was after the banquet. The guys proposed sabotaging other students to have better chances of winning the second life... I tried to gain control over them before too much would be said but I didn't think they'd go rogue so fast..." pondered Annabel "But I swear I didn't think they'd do such a thing!" Lenore didn't answer that. After a moment of silence, the blonde took Lenore's face in her hands to make sure the other will look her in the eyes for what she was about to say. Annabel gently turned Lenore's head towards her and added "I might not know what happened to Duke but I promise I'll find out. I love you and I'm sorry about your loss... Everyone could tell he was a dear friend to you... But I'm telling the truth. Everything I've told you today is true... Do you believe me, pet?" she looked up expectantly. Before Lenore could answer announcing the curfew sounded for the first time.

"We'd better be going to our beds..." said Lenore.

"But-" Annabel tried protesting but couldn't find a good argument.

"Let's meet here tomorrow after classes and finish this conversation, shall we?" asked Lenore.

"Yes. Goodnight, pet." Said Annabel as she exited the closet to head to her and Ada's room.

After classes, Annabel carefully entered the broom closet. Her heart was pounding with stress and anticipation of what Lenore would say. Her beloved pet was already waiting for her inside. It was the first chance for Annabel to better look at Lenore that day. It was clear that the recent events took a great toll on her. Annabel wanted to throw herself on Lenore, embrace her and pepper her beautiful face with kisses until all the worries would fade into the background, just to see that spark in Lenore's eyes she adored so much. But she didn't. She wanted to give Lenore as much space as needed even if it was at the expense of her own heartache. They stood in silence for a couple of seconds before Lenore began "About the question you asked me before goodbye..." she lifted her eyes to look straight into Annabel's eyes. The blonde's heart stopped when Lenore crossed the distance between them and took Annabel's face into the palms of her hands. "I do..." she said with something new in her gaze. Something Annabel haven't seen since they were alive. Love. Hope. And Trust. The blond could swear that her heart exploded with the relief and happiness that it was filled with at that moment. When she took Lenore's hands in her own, she felt it. On her right cheek. She could feel the metal band touching her skin. She didn't have to look at it, because she knew it was the identical wedding ring that she had on her left hand. She gasped at the realisation and looked into her wife's eyes to make sure she doesn't just dream about this moment.

"Really?" Asked Annabel with a hushed voice.

"Yes, really." chuckled Lenore "I really do.." as she said that she leaned down and kissed Annabel with all the love to convey everything she wanted to tell her with these two words.

I do believe you

I do remember now

I do promise to get us out of here so we can get our happy-ever-after

I do love you, too

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 4

Prompt: Teratophilia Pairing: monster!IN(Jeongin) x fem!reader WC: 3,395 (I literally said “what” outloud...no way) Summary: Would you still love me if I was a worm? Of course you would! But what if I had three tails and claws and teeth sharp enough to rip your throat out and black eyes? Would you still love me then? This is a work of fiction, it does not represent IN or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.  Additional warnings under the cut.

TW/CW: Idk a great tag for this but Jeongin’s conscious is essentially trapped when he shifts into a monster (unwillingly), the monster is very enthusiastic about fucking, Jeongin is not so much out of fear you’ll get hurt. That said IDK where to rate on the consent scale.

Also I use italics to indicate conversations between the monster and Jeongin. Sorry if that’s annoying or unclear.

Simple warnings - monsterfucking, big dick, humping, unprotected sex, breeding, knotting.

 “Babe, I think you need to know something about me before you start fantasizing about our dream apartment together,” Jeongin sighs. He knew this day was coming. For as excited as he was to dream about the future with you, he was afraid. He knew if it got to this point he’d have to tell you. Mentally listing the number of people who knew and the number of people who’d stuck around he found the number could be held in one hand alone.  You don’t even look up from your phone, scrolling aimlessly, waiting for him. Your eyes flick up to look at him as he fails to continue further. “Mhm. Okay?   “You know how you have a time of the month and like, I am super understanding and buy you supplies and have no problem going out to grab pads or even, like, lay down a towel because a good orgasm can really help cramps? I’m going to need you to be just as understanding okay?   Finally you look up from your phone, concerned. “You don’t need the monologue, what’s up?   He takes another deep breath, hands gripping his knees. Staring straight forward he blurts his whole prepared speech, “I’m actually a monster. A real monster with teeth and fangs. Once a month I need to lock myself to a chair because the need becomes too strong and I could-I could hurt people.”  You’re a blank, expressionless. It worries him, it isn’t a reaction he’d prepared for. “Okay? Like a theoretical monster or-”  “No, like a schedule three restricted access elevated permissions type monster. As in only a few people and even fewer know who are alive. Real serious shit type of monster.   Your brows furrow, “like a werewolf or…?”  At least you don’t look scared. It’s only natural for you to have questions he tells himself. “It’s complicated. Not like one of those hollywood types. Technically I think I’m ‘otherwise unspecified’ but, to summarize, think scales and teeth and wings and talons and black eyes.   The fear and regret and panic in your precious Innie’s eyes is hard to miss. The rapid way he’s rattling through the worst as a nervous habit proves his sincerity. You smile softly at him, “I think I need to see for myself.”  “What no. NO. I could- did you not hear me? I could hurt you if I-” he shudders. “If I get free I don’t know-I couldn’t guarantee-I’m not myself.   You shrug and turn back to your phone, “I trust you. I just wanna see.”

  It takes weeks of working on him to get him to agree to let you join him on his formerly labeled “boys night”. It was not without a long list of compromises on your part. You were to only observe through glass of the french doors in his living room. He would wear additional heavy duty cuffs and chains to hold him back in case the first set failed.  “No matter what,” he reminded you as you locked him into the recessed hooks behind his couch, “no matter what you cannot touch me and you cannot leave the next room. Not even to leave the apartment. The apartment door is the last line of defense and if I get out-”  ‘I know. You’ve said a billion times Innie,” you say as you push his hair back. “It’ll be fine. I trust you.   Jeongin shakes his head, holding his tongue. So stupidly confident, he knew no matter what he said he couldn’t shake it from you. Stubborn and confident in the face of the unknown. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he looked over your handiwork. Everything was just the slightest big large, for now and not for long. The faintest shimmer crossed his forearm beneath the cuff. “Leave. Now.”  Tucking back his hair again you can’t help yourself, tilting his chin up to kiss him. “I love you.”  The kiss dries his mouth, he’s so thirsty he could die. His tongue presses to your lips, eagerly licking into your mouth as you grant him permission. You taste so sweet, sweeter than any candy he’s ever tried. Chasing your lips hungrily his teeth snap at you as you pull away. The sudden aggression making you both jump.  “Are you deaf? Leave!” Jeongin’s fingers dig into his knees, veins popping out all over. Grabbing you he tries his best to toss you backwards, chains cutting his throw short. It’s just enough to send you stumbling backwards. A split second of fear shines in your eyes, a split second that he hates himself for. “Leave,” he whimpers, head hung as he hears the click of the door behind you.

  It’s just in time. Jeongin’s arms start itching, he twitches and contorts to try to relieve the nagging flares popping all over his arms and legs. Slowly the iridescent shine stays, black scales tipping his arms and covering his hands. He screams as the bones of his finger morph curling back and up before lengthening into claws. The human part of him that remains is glad he can’t find you, hoping you left fully and locked the door behind you. Pain shoots through his spine, forcing him to curl in on himself. His jaw unhinges, gurgling through the spit pooling in his mouth, teeth turning to fangs as two feathery wings sprout from his back.  Panting and screeching he’s a half formed creature. Part lizard, part bird, part wolf, and still some human left to spare. The doctors told him it would’ve been easier if he had been able to fully transform, that being in limbo is what made him able to remember it all. This partial transformation kept the sliver of human unable to act and conscious of his state. Full shift meant the human portion wouldn’t know, could escape the pain of knowing and being unable to act.  The creature inside was pissed. It was always upset but tonight the cuffs felt particularly tight and heavy. Tugging with all his might the metal left raw impressions in the scales. Teeth snapping into the night air in desperation. He wanted to feed. He wanted more than food.

  You sat in the small what the landlord considered “dining room” just beyond the doors. Hidden in the pitch black dark beyond the doors you followed your boyfriends�� instructions to remain still and calm. Watching the pain and anguish crossing his face, you want to burst through the door. Despite the various ways he could rip you limb from limb or otherwise harm you, he looked sad. Your heart ached as you watched him struggle, magnificent wings beating and folding and flexing to try to assist his fruitless tugs. Beautiful. He was beautiful, an angel even.

 Almost an hour passed of him fighting frantically with his restraints until he wore himself out, scraped and bruised. Pitiful vocalizations were all that was left of his resistance. Feathers covered the floor, some falling from stress and others from effort. He was still beautiful. Hair hanging into his eyes, he was still beautiful. You watch him for hours, staring, though he really didn’t do much more than doze off and tug at the chains. The way the light falls on him is entrancing, dark scales seemingly twinkling at you like he was covered in stardust. Moreover he still looks like your boyfriend, despite the additions. Your heart ached for him, face covered in tear stains. The once loose cuffs looked far too tight.

  The scraping of metal against metal perks his sensitive hearing. The most delicious scent of vanilla and coconut wafts past his nose. His breathing accelerates as the pat of a bare foot hitting the ground echos loudly in the otherwise empty apartment. The door clicks and his head snaps to face the intruder.  Your stomach drops as his black eyes turn to you, grinning. His teeth are sharp and slick with saliva. “Innie, it’s me,” you whisper.   Eat. EAT. Take. TAKEtaketakeeatdevourpossess. His senses go hayware, newly invigorated to tear at his bindings. What a delicious offering. What a snack. If only this body could have her whole-   He snaps and growls in your direction, chains straining and cuffs cutting in. “Innie! Yang Jeongin! I know you’re in there!”  The monster howls, doing one last tug before settling again. Don’t hurt her, you can’t hurt her. I will kill us if you hurt her. She’s not for eating, she’s not an offering. She’s my girlfriend. She’s my girlfriend. She’s my girlfriend. The monster huffs, head twitching to his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he gives you a once over.  “I’m going to come closer. I’m-we need to be able to get along.”  He sneers and growls at the thought. This tiny thing is right. No eating. Girlfriend. Fine. No eating. The monster appears to sulk as you draw nearer. What used to be your boyfriend’s body has grown much larger than you originally thought, almost completely covered in a pattern of smooth scales.   “I’m going to touch you, the cuffs look tight. I want to make sure you aren’t hurting yourself.”   Please no please no please no I can’t control it, I’m not- he’s not in my control. The monster gives you a sideways glance but makes no movement as you reach your hand out slowly. The scales vary from slick and soft like a snakes underside to thicker and more protective where callouses used to be. In particular where the cuffs encircle his legs and arms has built up a layer of armor. A small chirp noise eminantes from his chest over a deep rumble.   “Are you purring? Do you purr?” You smile as you continue to stroke the soft side of his body. “Is the big scaly boy purring?”  A small click comes from his throat, head shaking back and forth. Moremoremoremoremore this. Need this. Good. Hunger. Want tiny thing. Everywhere. Yes. Want everywhere. More everywhere. More now. More fast. Moremoremoremore. Practically panting his eyes slide closed into a state of bliss. Suddenly he flinches and pulls from you with a snap.

  Your blood runs cold, teeth inches from your shoulder as you throw yourself backwards to the wall. “Hey! Innie! Be nice!” No leverage to hold over your words, a rush of adrenaline has you giggling. “I know you don’t mean it. I know my Innie won’t let you. I trust him so I trust you.”  Stupid tiny thing. Pretty. Want. Want more. Need. He whines and hangs his head.  “It was my fault, I went too far and you didn’t know how to handle it. Just warn me next time, okay?” You approach him again, speaking in a low soothing tone. He’d been overstimulated, he didn’t know kindness, he acted out of fear not out of a wish you hurt you. You made every excuse in the book. Heart beating wildly you were closer than ever before as he leaned back, shaking his hair from his eyes.  Closer close, yes, close. Do not fucking hurt her, you know what will happen to us if you hurt her. Closetastytinyclosetastytiny. DON’T.  Both of you barely breathe as you stroke his hair, slowly pushing it back so that it doesn’t bother him. You’d politely not looked at his boxers, previously loose now stretched to the max, but it was hard to ignore the twitch at your thigh. His eyes slide closed again and you withdraw your hand, his mouth twisting into a frown. “This time you’ll warn me right?”  He chirps again. Stupid tiny thing more now more.  Instead of returning to his hair you start touching his chest. He’s still human here, morphing into fur on his stomach and then to scale on his thighs. Your hands shake as your fingers caress down to the band of his boxers. The faint rumbling starts again. Long strokes from chest to waist, steady as you feel the muscles below relax. As your fingers ghost over the band he growls. “Not there?” You ask softly, shortening your path.  Claim. Hurt hurt need claim. Tiny human need. Need. Breed. Spawn. Offspring. Yes. Tiny thing carry spawn. “Touch. Hurt.” The words are mumbled and unclear, monster unsure of the shape of the words when spoken.   Your eyebrows shoot up. “Hurt? Where, how can I help? What can I do?”   His head hangs down, staring at the nearly destroyed boxers. “Hurt.”  Thumbs slipping below the waist band you watch his face, his mouth, his claws as you tug downwards. The soft thud of muscle against muscle as, whatever is going on down there, hits his furry lower abdomen. The noise he makes is new to your ears, a pleased trill traveling high to low. Pheromones flood the room, musky and masculine. Your head rings, blinking to clear your vision. “That help?” You don’t dare look down. Whatever it was sounded as monstrous as the being that had changed your boyfriend.  Don’t you dare, don’t you dare let her. You can’t have her. You can’t. You’ll hurt her. The monster huffs.  Eyes glued above his waist you continue to pet him, opting to skim his collarbones and shoulders instead of lower. “How is that my sweet thing? See we can be friends. I can help you. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”   Purring, his head droops again, chin to chest, “more.”  You gulp, heart dropping into your gut. “Oh-okay. If you’re sure.” Holding your breath your eyes flick south. “Fuck, more? More?” Your voice trembles. Innie wasn’t normally anything to shrug at, perfectly average length and just a little bit thicker. This, whatever the monster did to his body, this was the most. Your abs flex, walls of your sex clenching. His dick looked mostly human, deep purple and blue veins ran the thick shaft, all the way up to the head, tapered and an angry red.  “Touch,” he insists. You’ll hurt her. She-I-. Your spawn too. Our spawn. Our brood. We breed. We spawn. He lightly growls as you hesitate.   Shooting a glare at him you scold, “be nice, or I leave.” His claws grab what he can, the lower half of your calves, sharp ends carefully pressed. You weren’t going to leave him. Whining he almost looks sorry. “You manipulative little shit.” Pressing your palm to the base his cock easily passes the length of your fingers. “There’s just no way-”   “Find. More. Moremoremore,” he moans and thrusts against you. The tang of need on his tongue. The chains rattle ominously. “Find. Hurt.”   “Let me just take,” you try to scoot away from him, his claws scratching lightly as he tenses. “I need to take these pants off. To help. If you want me to help--” the grip drops immediately.   Growling and snapping as you leave him he looks more like a feral creature than your beloved. Hair wild and wings stretching to his sides. She won’t leave. She should leave. God damn it, can you just control yourself? Listen to me and we can get through this. You’ll have her, fine, you’ll get to have her. My rules, her rules. You get your fucking claim can you just listen for once? The monster leans back, heels pressing into the floor.  Naked in the moonlight you straddle him, bolder than before as you hear the familiar clicking and rumbling. “I promised. I kept my promise. Now promise, no bite, no scratch, no eat.” Your elbows rest on his shoulders, pressing his hair out of his eyes to stare into him, trying desperately to reach the boy inside the beast.   He growls, burying his head in your chest. You heard her.  Tentatively you wrap your hands around him, needing both to cover his circumference. He’s already sticky with slick. Self lubricating perhaps, or from the steady stream of substance trickling from his slit. You squeeze and pump him as you rub against his scaled thigh. IN looks pleased at least, head back and eyes closed as he purrs. However your arms quickly start hurting, range of motion and girth a challenge to your muscles. Meanwhile you’re practically dripping down his thigh, quickly growing desparate.  Your scent is potent in the air, drool leaking from the sides of his lips. Delicious devour defile deep so deep want need wantwantwantwant candy dumb stupid tiny. Fragile mine mine have need mine. He grunts and whines, arms tugging again at the chains. For some reason despite the closeness, despite the fact that he could easily bite you, you aren’t afraid.  “Normally you’d prep me but,” you smile adoringly at his pleased expression, “I somehow don’t think that’ll happen huh.”   He chirps back, hips bucking enthusiastically upwards as your grip loosens.  You’re glad for the tapered tip as you position him at your entrance. It’ll still be a stretch no double but at least it wasn’t a blunt one. Baring his teeth IN growls, writhing and thrusting up into your wetness. “My speed!” You yelp as the head pops passed your entrance.  Her speed jackass go her speed! Warm, want more. Deeper need, need deep. Tiny thing is small tight warm warm tight need. He pants and groans as you slowly slip down, his hips canting and bouncing, eeking out whatever extra depth he could. Finally you settle, only able to take a little over 3/4th of him, leaving the bulbous, calloused base exposed. You bend forward and wrap your arms around his neck, rocking your hips as you get used to the burning stretch. With your ear to his neck you can better feel his pleased subvocalizations, trilling as your fingers scratch the leathery base of his wings.

  “Good boy. You’re being really good for me,” you mutter as you feel him tense and shudder. “Doing well, going my pace. Feels good. Good right?” Leaning back you grind against his lower abs, letting the coil in your stomach wind back. “Just a little more and then I gotta rest, okay?” Your walls squeeze desperately around him. Your beautiful monster. Dangerous and hungry but yours.  More need moremoremoremoremoremoremore faster go faster deep fast. He grits his teeth and yips, frustrated. His muscles flex, as his arms tug again. Grab, grab tiny. Grab fill breed fill spawn. Mate mine mineminemine. Hungry. Twisting and tugging again a link pops with a bang. Throwing you off balence, falling foward to grab him by the shoulders. Your overstimulated clit spasms, orgasm rolling painfully over you. Your scent floods his nostrils, sweet and musky and a little spicy now. Delicious. No don’t you dare don’t you dare. She’s my girlfriend don’t you dare. He tugs again, the second set of chains popping open. Our tiny. Our.  The curve of his talons perfectly fit over your shoulder as his arms wrap around you. It all happens in the blink of an eye, the chains popping, his arms gathering you between them, the force of his hips driving forward as he locks you in his embrace.  You’re screaming as he forces the rest of himself inside of you, practically roaring as you both fall forward. Hanging off of him he cradles you as he pounds brutally quickly into your cunt. There’s no art or finesse to it, only aim to drive himself as deeply as possible into your womb. Every noise he makes is strange and animalistic, rough tongue licking away at your neck as if he was preparing you for something much more sinister.  You’re moaning, maybe, or choking on air, could be screaming. The blood rushing in your ears clouds your perception of noise. Cumming again on him, drives as deep as he can go, base of his cock growing thicker and locking inside of you. Whiting out from the pressure, your body is limp and vulnerable to the monster.  Bitebitebitebitebitebitebitebite mate bitebitebite. He waits for the other man to speak. Bite? The other man has quieted or left. He bares his teeth, your neck exposed. It would be easy. He huffs, another spurt of release emptying into you, stomach distending slightly.  The monster gathers you, sitting back and draping your form over his chest as he purrs. You shiver, locked to him naked in the cool night air. Two wings wrap around you, cloaking you in what little he can provide. The man will be back in the morning light, the monster is satisfied and so are you.

I was thinking about this one and as I was writing I feel like next year I’ll do fewer prompts but just...all monsters. Like monsterfucker october for kinktober. Assign different traits to all the skz and atz members.

[dullyn]

KIT, MY BELOVED (AFFECTIONATE) For the Arthuriana ask: ♘🫅💚 📽😏🥖 (I think I know who you'll say but it's just an excuse to hear u wax about Lance again) 👨‍👦🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

Sarah thank you for enabling me <3

♘: Bors, please save me Bors. I just love him so much and when he finishes the Grail Quest, ah.

🫅: I want to say Guinevere because like,, that’s my girl. However, my favorite lady has to actually be Iseult the Fair. She’s just so smart and crafty, especially when it comes to dealing with the barons and King Mark’s suspicions of her. Like when Tristan carries her while disguised as a well meaning peasant and she is like “the only man I have between my legs besides you is that man” and it’s like hell yeah he is girl.

💚: The Lot-Pellinore blood feud. I don’t know if that counts as just one thing since it’s like an ongoing arc, but god it’s just so funny. They just keep one upping each other with more murder until Percival is just hanging at the round table lacking like any living brothers.

🎥: I recommend everyone go and read Sir Galahad, A Christmas Mystery. It’s a poem, and not a very long one, but I still think everyone should read it. It’s such a whimsical take on the Grail lore.

😏: Yes.

🥖: Okay so oddly enough Bors is my favorite french. The entire WIP originated as an excuse to write a Bors-centric story and then I realized it was far more compelling to write Lancelot-Guinevere interactions. This love of Bors can be seen in the snippets before each Part (old man Bors my beloved). But yeah,, Lancelot gave me brain worms and now he’s the protagonist. That being said I love my dumb Lancelot, he gets like smarter as the story goes on because he is currently a fifteen year old boy, but he’s so precious. Just a stupid baby with a sword who then grows up into a murderous bastard.

🧑‍🧒: Sir Ector. The way that he raises Arthur and Kay and does all he needs to do and asks like zero questions. Ideal father figure, just supporting his random adoptive son he got from a wizard.

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿: Lamorak, just because the funniest thing he could do in the blood feud is exactly what he did. He banged his enemies’ mom (rip to Morgause). It reads like a bad middle school joke.

[canmom]

l'aventure d'canmom à annecy épisode DEUX - lundi - partie 1

sure hope everyone knows the days of the week in French.

I'm gonna be writing throughout the day today because there's gonna be a lot!

this morning i wasted my reservation for The Most Precious of Cargoes by not showing up early enough, rip. As a consolation I went into Grad Films 1! These kinda slapped! ...mostly anyway.

first up, we had Sheep Out by Zofia Klamka, which was pure style. a severely dressed animator has her routine disrupted by a runaway cartoon sheep, taking her on a crazy chase through the ads and posters of the city. edited tight as fuck, the initial routine montage of match cuts transitioning perfectly into crazy smears, wacky perspectives and some really playful shots with the characters running through posters at different scales and interacting with the real world. calls to mind Kon. hell of an opener.

Apartment 203 was a bit of a dud for me. Found footage style about a serial killer, it explains the premise in text at the outset so there is little tension, and it's just a camera looking around a dirty CG with foley of breathing, music, and offscreen violence and screams.

Luckily such misses were not the rule in this block!

Echoes by Robinson Drossos used a very strong sketchy traditional animation style to depict a boy descending into a sewer that becomes an increasingly surreal cave. The pencil texture and strength of drawing and movement do a ton for this one, i fully winced when the boy falls down a shaft hitting his head on every surface.

Carrotica by Daniel Sterlin-Altman was a blast. It's about the desires and fantasies of a single mum obsessed with her carrot research and her repressed gay son who writes erotica in his notebooks, all depicted in stop motion. Excellent naturalistic voice acting and a script that is both funny and very genuine.

Humantis by Paris Baillie from Calarts was a really cool stop motion one about flower petal creatures which engage in strange formal dances, and one of these creatures whose white petals start becoming corrupted with green. The creature tears petals from the others to try to hide its condition but inevitably gets found out, only to discover other green humantises. Yet in the final shot of the film, we see that it still mourns its white petals. I loved the visual style here - really imaginative creature designs.

You are the truck and I am the deer was not really to my taste - poetry over abstract imagery of corruption and trauma, i kinda get it, but it felt a bit too generic for me.

Yapalaponky by Masataka Kihara... I'm sure glad I can post a picture so I don't have to describe the creature. The film depicts a series of cute/funny little interactions between the man and the creature, good visual gags around weight and such, eventually pulling back to a child in a car on the way to a funeral (I think). Always interesting to see jp animation outside the anime bubble - I appreciate the visual imagination of these weird guys with their う faces.

The Time Botanist by Glenn Paul-Parvenu is a delightful tribute to rubber hose and earlier animation, with its mc getting sneezed back into older and older styles by her anthropomorphised time machine. Good concept, nails the execution!

The Last Visit by Keawalee Warutkomain is a meditation on grief, animated in the pages of a book. Foregrounding its process this much, it led me inevitably to think about the act of making a film to grieve someone. I made a short animation when Fall died - it was really rough, but I felt moved to use the art I was making at the time to commemorate her somehow. I always felt a little ashamed that I didn't make something better, but like... as if she'd care! And it makes me wonder like, the stuff about technical execution, how it relates to something so personal as a film about grief - but then, it's not just a personal project, it's being screened for others here. What is the right way to make art 'for' someone who has died? I really don't know.

In this case, Warutkomain is mourning her aunt. The film is more about the experience of grief than the aunt herself, and it felt a little too long for what it had as such an abstract film, but like, it feels cruel to make that kind of criticism. It certainly provoked thought of my own experience of grief, but the subject is inherently resonant - I realised I was getting lost in my head and missing the film. I don't know what to make of it all. Certainly the animation in the pages of a book was a cool effect.

Adiós by José Prats seemed like another such personal film, but in this case a tight drama. A father is struggling to accept the departure of his son, the dialogue full of loaded lines about leaving him behind. They go out hunting, but their dog accidentally eats poison; the father is resigned to losing the dog, but the son runs to fetch salt instead of staying at their side - and this turns out to be the right call, since the dog is saved, and the father finally accepts his son's decision. Strongly executed stop motion, this was a very solid note to end on.

I love student films, because there are few other cases where people get to create with such few restraints. Which isn't to say there aren't pressures - students are trying to impress future employers and their instructors and so forth, and they draw inspiration from other student films so you get certain genres - but I'm always impressed by the sheer variety of stuff that people can cook up in just a year. Definitely a strong block, can't wait for more. (Also some of the directors were present, I hope they appreciated the applause - living the dream of getting a film into annecy. one day.)

[thesinglesjukebox]

MANDY, INDIANA - "PINKING SHEARS"

Ian brings us some British-French post-punk with no Indiana involvement...

[7.40]

Ian Mathers: I don't remember what the song was, but I still remember the feeling the first time I encountered music that didn't immediately make sense to me. This isn't quite the same thing as music I find disappointing or lacklustre at first but grow to love -- a category that contains an awful lot of my favourite music, and is an endlessly renewable resource. But up until that point everything I had run into was something I immediately either liked or disliked (yr boy was a big fan of "Never Gonna Give You Up" when it was originally a hit, if that helps date me), and to hear something that was somehow neither was profoundly disturbing. As I got older and more into music, finding something that truly doesn't make sense at first has become rarer and rarer. More things get adopted into your repertoire, you have more context, and often you realize that stuff that bent your brain in your own history had plenty of antecedents that make them less singular. And that feeling... that little shock of non-recognition when you're used to recognizing so much, that little moment of "why or how did someone come up with this?" that sparks across your brain... it's like hearing about a new country when you thought you knew all of them. It's a reminder that life never settles into a comfortable box. None of the elements that Mandy, Indiana use to make their music are particularly confusing to me (hell, I even took French all through high school). But the first time I played i've seen a way, I had that feeling. These didn't feel like songs. They had elements of songs. Some like "Pinking Shears" even had choruses, relatable sentiments (who isn't tired?). They had sounds and structures I was broadly familiar with. But something about the way each track, and the album as a whole, was put together made me feel like my brain was degaussed. I spent maybe my first four listens in a rapturous quasi-panic, for the first time in years not being able to respond to a piece of music in the ways I was used to responding. I'm sure when that happens to anyone, it's not 100% inherent to the music itself. There may have been other bands who could have done this to me if the phase of the moon or my choice of lunch that day had been just right. But it felt rare and precious when I got that experience from Mandy, Indiana. And then, a second miracle: as I kept listening, "Pinking Shears" and the rest of i've seen a way resolved in my ears into just songs, the way these things always do (since it's hard to repeatedly experience the shock of the new from the same thing). And it turned out those songs were really really great. [10]

Vikram Joseph: This is so strange and addictive - a righteous French diatribe about racist border policies over a rhythmic racket and stomach-churning synths that sound like a cow in distress. From Brooklyn Vegan's English translation: "Those we bombard are told to fuck off / and then we elect bankers / and posh assholes and rentiers / and we are surprised to get fucked." I mean, yeah. Imagine how fatigué we are. Imagine how fatigué we are of it. [8]

Tim de Reuse: What's it take to go industrial in an age of digital purity? Chase the feeling of a grimy, misanthropic without actually getting any dirt under your fingernails. Meticulously ugly, to distract you from how it's actually neat and tidy. Check out the perfect knife's edge of that snare drum; check out the huge, reflective metallic object that passes for a bassline; check out the clean, papery reverb. I'd criticize it for being inauthentic if it wasn't so much more fun than the things it's ripping off. [8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Nestling its way into a sound between Filth-era Swans and the EBM of the same decade (Severed Heads, Front 242, Nitzer Ebb), "Pinking Shears" aims for a raw, cavernous sound that's more hollow than all-consuming. The playful French vocals provide an amusing contrast to all the whirring, but that's sort of it. Big synth bass, big crunch, big yawn. [5]

Micha Cavaseno: Vaguely answering a question nobody asked, which is "What if Liars were signed to Amphetamine Reptile or Skin Graft?". It's got one point, and it delivers it in perhaps the most cast-off gag and splutter of a way, before hurrying along with its day and avoiding trying to remember what color and texture of its release it was, but never quite getting rid of the taste for the next couple days. Love the clutter of the percussion sounding like a rude joke at a dance's expense, pushed aside by a belch of bullying rock. How rude. [7]

Taylor Alatorre: I always sorta felt that the world needed a Kidz Bop version of Einstürzende Neubauten. [7]

Hannah Jocelyn: I'm sorry, that percussion riff sounds like "Crack a Bottle," the vocals sound like The Google Translate Song, I can't take this seriously. That said, [6]

Oliver Maier: This is my "just say you hate fun". [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Genuinely a bad and unpleasant time in the way that most latter-generation "post punk" can only feint at. Feels much longer than 2.5 minutes, but not tediously so -- each moment of this drags you down into itself, each metallic hi-hat snap and guitar scratch a barb into exposed skin. [8]

Nortey Dowuona: Simon Catling's humming bassline shows up halfway through the song over Isaac Jones' drums, with jagged shards of guitar by Scott Fair slunk in at each interval at the end of Valentina Caulfield's chorus, punctuating them with a phlegmy shriek. Caulfield's vocals at first feel like a representation of politesse but gain an edge of menace over the crashing of the percussion. The bass presses the guitar into the margins allowing Caulfield to fill up the middle of the mix, repeating the refrain. [6]

Michael Hong: I like when that beefy fart of a bassline arrives, a really nice rejoinder for the rattling voices in your head. [6]

Brad Shoup: I love when post-punkers stomp, when they strip it down to a megalithic groove. All kinds of stuff on the ground can stick to it. The first half feels like a (bear with me) minimal, metallic go-go take on Cop Shoot Cop's "$10 Bill". To reach the more trad second half, they catapult in some streaks of noise. (This transitional part, and I take far more pleasure in hearing than saying this, sounds like "Come With Me" from the 1998 Godzilla soundtrack.) But that recedes, and Valentine Caulfield reveals the song's final form: protest rap. A [7] for the journey. [7]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: You don't need to be francophone in order to understand Mandy, Indiana's vitriol and rage. But the lyrics are worth dissecting: "Nothing makes me want to continue in the filth of our society/I don't have have any desire to wake up when we let humans die in the Mediterranean." This is a tirade about how we treat refugees, and the existential exhaustion that comes from living in a world where this feels normal. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: For months I assumed based on the name that Mandy, Indiana was an emo band. If I had known they would instead be spoken-word French over a harsh but oddly unchaotic post-punk dervish, I might have listened to the album earlier than Q4. Assumptions foil me again! [9]

Aaron Bergstrom: I did not expect the revolution to be this much fun. Embrace the chaos. Build a new world from the ashes of the old. Dance on the barricades. [9]

Claire Biddles: My face is just gasping_pikachu.jpeg the whole way through this -- yes!!! [9]

Michelle Myers: Mandy, Indiana's music makes me feel like I'm wearing a perfectly worn-in leather jacket and red lipstick that never smears, waiting in line to get into a club that I already know I'm not cool enough to get into. [6]

Kat Stevens: I'm glad there'll always be people making music that sitcom teenagers can slam their bedroom doors and stick on at high volume, to the despair of their parents. "Where did we go wrong, Adam?" "I don't know Helen, our sweet girl... it's like I don't even know her anymore. Were we too indulgent? Too strict?" "Well Adam, in retrospect maybe constantly playing The Downward Spiral to get her off to sleep while she was a baby wasn't the best idea." [7]

Alfred Soto: To play loudly and indiscriminately when holiday twaddle begins to choke you. [7]

Anna Katrina Lockwood: I am so tired, yet I cannot sleep. [8]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[astertiae]

5 9 18 for the ygo meme! :3

OH BOY THANK YOU FOR THE ASK LETS GOOOO

5. Favorite opening/ending

I really like the DM opening Wild Drive! And I’ve loved Precious Times, Glory Days since I was a child! Honorary mentions to both Get Your Game On and Hyperdrive though, they both go so hard, extremely awesome openings!!!

9. Favorite minor character

Rebecca Hopkins is my daughter and I love her!!! Also I haven’t watched Zexal yet, but I know there’s a character who plays madolches, and I play madolches, so obviously that’s the best character ever (anyone who loves madolche is objectively the best character)!

18. Random headcanon

WOULD YOU LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT MY GX DUNKIN DONUTS HEADCANONS??? They go like this:

Judai: sausage egg and cheese on a croissant (reminds him of golden eggwich) and he eats it dry without a drink to wash it down because he’s a terrifying force of nature, Edo: iced coffee with caramel swirl, french cruller (rip french cruller my BELOVED I MISS YOU SM), upgraded to get hash browns too as he got older, Syo: full size doughnuts ONLY! NO munchkins, no powdered doughnuts!!! Kenzan: jelly munchkins (he likes the texture) and he’ll easily eat five of them in under a minute, also I feel like he’d like the blue raspberry coolatta, Manjoume: seasonal items especially pumpkin anything, Asuka: glazed doughnut but especially big fan of the brownie batter, bonus for my fellow Reggie fan but Mac is a Starbucks stan and will not touch dunkin on principle

[pretendingimanauthorforaminute]

Not for Him

For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel lonely. This boy, this strange boy that was always watching me, not just watching me, but seeing me. For the first time and only for a moment, I didn't feel alone. His words, his world that he created, was objectively nothing a tiny blip of poorly done script, misspelt and crossed out words. Yet the meaning behind them, it forced emotions to course through me. I had to focus myself, so that the tears welling in my eyes did not seep through. Although this boy had cracked something in me. I would not let him see it. No fear. No surrenders. No Weakness. He would not be the one to break me. His Words, his written world, although beautiful, was just a fantasy to him. story he created, without knowing the honesty that lies within the violence , the pain and most heartbreakingly, the truths. All of a sudden, I was stuck with the desire to rip it to shreds. To destroy every part of me he out to paper. The parts that no-one else saw, How dare he. How dare this boy notice what no-one else could. Why should he get to own a piece of my tragedy. I knew I couldn't though. There was no part of me that could take the pages of me and throw them in the fireplace to watch as they burned to ash. My world alongside them. I couldn't do that to him. I wouldn't. I knew it would break me. It would break both of us. I couldn't bear to see the hurt in his eyes when he watched the person he cared about destroy something precious he created.

I was a monster, but I wasn't monstrous. Not for him anyway.

Inspo for this one comes from a gorgeously tragic french queer film that was just released. Lie with Me. There's this flashback scene in it where one of the main characters is reading the other main characters writings. This is inspired by that look, in that moment. Again I don't consider this a fanfic, but more of a inspo based story.

[twst-hanaya]

Rook Hunt: Apathy Wrapped In Kindness

Okay so this is just going to be me ranting about Rook Hunt (finally - despite him being my fave most special little boy, I haven't written one post about him since starting this blog). It's basically just my personal interpretation of his character and how I imagine he would act, specifically with regards to love and romance. Basically just some personal head-canons, so don't get mad at me if we have different views of him.

I do love a man that can give me emotional damage in ways I never thought possible. Let's get started.

My impression of the fandom consensus - at least, the part of the fandom that writes Reader/Character and MC/Character fics - is that Rook is either an obsessive Yandere or a very gushy and romantic that likes to make grand gestures and dramatic declarations of his love for his significant other in French, with maybe a touch of danger, but it's sexy so we're good.

Realistically - (bad word here I know, I like fantasizing just as much as the next girl but this is for the sake of my deep love of his character okay) - I think Rook would make a terrible lover.

He himself says that he's too obsessed with beauty to be tied down, that his eyes will always chase what shines. He won't give up the opportunity to experience the other beauties of the world. He's so caught up in the expansiveness, the endless novelty, that dopamine hit from finding that shiny new thing, that the idea of limiting himself deliberately is foreign to him. He doesn't commit, not because he's afraid, but because he is greedy. Commitment is a choice to sacrifice, and he wants to experience everything this world has to offer.

As he is now, he is overwhelmed with the abundance of experiences available to him, and he doesn't quite understand the beauty that can only be found in that sacrifice and deep connection with another human being. His intake is just that - taking. Receiving. He eats beauty and enjoys his meals, the delicacy of human existence. He enjoys observing and even helping grow what he finds, making precise comments with his sharp, observant eye. He gives quite a bit in that sense - wisdom, encouragement, and most importantly, the truth.

See, my favorite thing about him is that despite his affable and friendly nature, he always keeps people at a distance. And even worse, he's a hypocrite. If he finds you interesting, he has no qualms about ripping apart your barriers and peering into your soul without you even knowing, while simultaneously disliking any attempts by others to probe into his own life in any significant way.

So this is what I think loving Rook Hunt would look like.

He'll shower you with praise and attention and understanding and advice. He will carve you open and lay bear your every fear and hope and dream, and he will consume that beauty, of a person's most secret, vulnerable part of their being - a risk you have taken, a gift you have given him - with shining eyes and even something like affection and gratitude.

He will do all of this, and when you ask him to please - please give me a piece of yourself too? Something precious, the same as I have given you? He will turn away. His curiosity satisfied, his interest sated, he will move onto the next shiny thing that catches his eye.

He will make you love him, and he will take that love in his hands and hold it up to the light to see how it catches it. He will admire how it sparkles so brightly and how it is malformed and dark in certain spots, and then he will put it down. It will have no place in his life, the collection of things he is willing to keep.

And what are you left with? A love that has nowhere to go and is too unwieldy and overgrown to fit back inside of you the way it used to. There's a big hole, and you have in your hands a love with nowhere to go.

So what were you? Just an experience? His kindness wasn't untrue - he meant every word he said. But his detachment, how he cuts himself out of the equation of life and places himself as a spectator who watches a play, is a type of apathy the inevitable cruelty of which will hurt you when you are standing alone under those bright stage lights looking for his silhouette in the shadows of the audience.

His heart will never belong to anyone but himself. Some might catch a glimpse, on accident. Maybe a sliver he's willing to expose in order to protect the whole. What a cold man.

But maybe, just maybe, someone can show him one day that that emptiness isn't just something he only leaves behind in others but grows in himself as well. Like I said, I don't think he quite understands the value of sacrifice, the kind of sacrifice that binds a person to something greater than themselves - the kind of sacrifice that binds oneself. But maybe when he breaks that person open and they inevitably reject him, unable to bear that feeling of loneliness despite standing beside him, he will feel even a hint of what he has let go, of what he has unwittingly lost with his careless consumption of others' hearts.

Anyways I need someone to write me a 100k+ slowburn Rook/OC fic with this in mind otherwise I have to do it myself and that shits fucking hard man, lol.

[nagipops]

hii I love your blogs sooo much you're really talented (I just needed to say it sorry) so straight to the point, I already made 2 requests to you and I really enjoyed your writing so I would like to make another again. As I'm clueless about what to request I'll just ask for random hcs for konoha 11, idk if it's too much but if so then you can do with Neji (I love him so much), Kakashi and Naruto. Thank you in advance and sorry anything ^^

RANDOM KONOHA 11 HEADCANONS!

FEATURING: naruto, sakura, shikamaru, ino, choji, neji, rock lee, tenten, kiba, hinata, and shino

WARNINGS: mentions alcohol, drugs, food, bugs, and the tiniest nsfw mention if you get the joke. hehe

A/N: AHHHH ANONN this seriously made my day, im so so glad you enjoy my work!! 💖

NARUTO

you know how we all have “the chair”, where we throw all of our dirty clothes onto?

yeah, imagine that, but from the seat to the fricking ceiling

its just a GINORMOUS MOUND of clothes, you wonder how he even goes through that many clothes so quickly???

definitely shoves it under his bed whenever guests come over (somehow)

holds chopsticks really weirdly. but it works.

asked tenten to put his hair into space buns to mimic his sexy jutsu and went around flirting with the village

jiraiya was so proud of him T-T

comes up with the WORST pickup lines

they’re so bad, its almost charming. almost

has gone AWOL multiple times, disappearing from everywhere, just everywhere

it scared you a little, so you searched the entire village for him

you finally found him sitting on the ledge of a cliff, gazing out at the vast sea

concerned and panicked, you cried out to ask him what was wrong

he turned to you with a crestfallen, devastated look on his face and said,

“i bought shrimp ramen instead of chicken ramen.”

you’ve never searched for him after his disappearance ever again.

SAKURA

100% makes origami shurikens and chucks them at you

they are deathly precise and deathly sharp. seriously, how are these not illegal weapons yet???

writes threatening motivational notes to herself on the mirror

“u got this!” “make sure to smack naruto today!” “ino sucks!”

her backpack would always be way too high up on her back. idk why but. it would

does her hair all nice and pretty before she goes out but once she arrives to her destination SHE KEEP. TAKING. IT OUT. and redoing it over and over and over again

like it’s impossible to make eye contact with her because she’s holding a bobby pin between her teeth while braiding her hair

her guilty pleasure would be hostess treats

ding dongs are her favorite. don’t ask me how i know, i just know.

eats the yellow starbursts just to spite naruto and all her haters

loves small lap dogs, she think’s they’re so cute and cuddly

but she especially loves chihuahuas

they’re so feisty and naruto HATES them, so of course she had to go and get one for herself

dresses the poor dog up in little bonnets and jackets and ties its tiny fuzzy hairs into pigtails

she and the chihuahua are not that much unlike <3

SHIKAMARU

this man is a god at shogi but he absolutely SUCKSSSS at cup pong.

is this an ick? idk. but he is absolute trash at this game.

it gets even worse when he’s got a couple drinks in him

tries to calculate the velocity and acceleration and angle and shit but his shot is always a good two feet off BYE 😭

just mutters an “aw, shit” before awaiting his turn again

hates checkers, loves chess

“checkers is for WUSSIES” - shikamaru nara

i said this in another post, but he is Very Good at whistling

like that’s his hidden talent

can copy any tune with the perfect pitch and rhythm

speaking of, he can do really cool tricks with his tongue

like making a four leaf clover, touching the bridge of his nose with it, flipping it upside down, you name it

he has slanted, scrawled handwriting, to the point where it’s almost illegible

wbk he cheats in school SO OFTEN. but he never gets caught. he’s not stupid, he just couldn’t care less about his classes.

thinks weed and e-cigs are stupid, cigarettes are where it’s at

you just can’t replicate the feeling of taking a drag from a cig after a long, tiring day

plus he looks hella cool while doing it B)

INO

teaches the boyz™️ how to braid their hair

like they all gather in a circle around this feisty fashionista and fail attempt to braid their hair

sakura was just fuming in the sidelines

“OI, INO-PIG, THAT’S A DUTCH BRAID, NOT A FRENCH BRAID!!”

yeah, ino 🙄

the only one that can actually do it is neji because a) this man is talented af and b) he’s got the long hairrr

ino probably envies his thick, sleek hair because hE’S a bOy

also asks everyone for their blood type and zodiac signs and tells them if they’re compatible with her or not

and definitely judges you for your sign 😣

“oh, you’re a gemini? hmm, what a shame...”

makes bouquets for her favorite people and kin assigns everyone a flower

only assigns the pretty nice ones to the people she likes (sorry sakura, you’re out of luck)

one of her favorite hobbies is crafting! she’s really good with details and small things so she loves making those miniature dollhouses and stuff

also really good at watercoloring. especially painting flowers and landscapes

also i feel like she would be really good at playing any instrument because of her skilled hands

can play a badass flute solo. period.

CHOJI

would honestly rather die than get anywhere NEAR an asparagus

he just thinks they’re so gross and bitter and NOT SALTY

he always eats his yakiniku a little bit undercooked because he’s way too impatient to wait for it to cook fully. who do you think he is??

whenever he cloud gazes with shikamaru, when asked what he thinks a cloud looks like, he just says some sort of food

“oi, choji, what does that one look like to you?”

“a... yakiniku grill... with... pineapple rings on it! ooh, and a wagyu steak right there!”

he thinks pringles are an abomination to society. where’s the crisp? where’s the grease? where’s the saltiness?!!!

asks ino to teach him how to do his hair all fancy and the two of them devote an entire day learning different hairstyles

it’s his new favorite thing to do now :D

he really likes crayons!!!!

like he’ll write with them, draw with them, color with them, do everything with them

he’s even tried to eat them. he said they tasted good.

definitely had the 128 crayon pack WITH THE BUILT-IN SHARPENER, and everyone thought he was the coolest kid in town

he ate it UP, he even scored some bbq dates with the ladies

i also feel like he loves basketball, and he has a MEAN slam dunk

like his vertical isn’t that high, but the man can REACH

he loves when people laugh at him when he challenges them to a 1v1 and then proceeds to absolutely destroy them <3

NEJI

he seems like a cucumber kind of guy.

just cucumber

like i feel like he puts it in everything; soba, salads, sandwiches, his face, yeah

it’s mellow and cool, just like him!

speaking of, i feel like he lives for spa days and facials

it just lets him be alone in his little cucumber scented world for an hour or two and he gets damn clear skin from it as well

seriously he has PERFECT skin. flawless. not a single blemish. his cheeks feel like baby butts they’re so smooth.

i feel like he’d be a god at solving rubik’s cubes, don’t ask me why

like if anyone scrambled theirs on accident they would just take it to neji and he’d solve it in the blink of an eye

CAT PERSON!!! loves the little meow meows

who are we kidding, neji basically is a cat; agile, aloof, does silly things without trying to, very cute

he just feels akin to the little fuzzballs and he thinks petting cats are extremely therapeutic. good for the soul

he is a golf man. he would take his juniors golfing and everyone thinks he’s uncool. cmon neji let them go to the skate park at least T-T

also very good at karaoke, definitely surprised everyone once he got a few drinks in him since he started serenading you

LIGHTWEIGHT!!! do not get more than one shot of alcohol in him. he will go berserk.

i also feel like he’d really love photography; not taking pictures of people, but of nature

he loves taking a quiet stroll through a pretty forest and snapping pictures of all the unique flora and fauna

it’s so serene ︶ ‿ ︶

ROCK LEE

100% milly rocks everywhere

gai got in on it too once he asked what lee was doing

“is that what all the youthful cool kids do these days!”

they also dab together. a lot

DO NOT BE SEEN WITH THESE TWO!!! you are not associated with them.

definitely is the one breakdancing in the middle of the dance circle at a high school party

he’s mad skilled at it too

headspins and windmills galore

challenged naruto to a dance-off and completely OBLITERATED him

lee then asked if naruto wanted a rematch, this time with one hand tied behind lee’s back

naruto obliged, and he STILL lost

RIP naruto and his fangirls, they all scrambled to lee afterwards T-T

i feel like his favorite subject is science

not the boring physics equations and laws and theories but the fun EXPERIMENTS

definitely has singed all of his hair off one time and he went to gai blubbering to help him grow back his precious hair

but he loves experimenting with different combinations and chemicals to get different reactions each time

created a potent love potion and carried it around with him all day one day

and it was actually working

girls were flocking to him left and right, staring at his lips and his face

he was so abashed at the sudden attention

heck, it even worked on sakura

“oi, lee-san!”

“hehe, yes, sakura-san?”

her eyes shifted downwards to his lips and his heart thumped harder

“hey... lee-san?”

“what is it?”

“you have something on your lip. we’ve been trying to tell you all day but you just winked and blew kisses at us.”

legend has it lee has still not recovered to this day.

TENTEN

has THE prettiest handwriting. and she can write SUPER fast

it’s like a superpower

like she transcribed five pages of a report in less than two minutes with perfect handwriting

naruto is so jealous.

she is also super good at origami! those diligent, accurate hands aren’t just for throwing things

taught sakura how to make shurikens but does NOT endorse any violent uses of them

she can replicate all of her weapons with paper and they can actually function, it’s so cool

made paper kunai knives one day and the wholeee village wanted to get their hands on them

i feel like she’d listen to mitski. idk i just get those vibes

LOVES BIG DOGS!! especially fluffy wuffy samoyeds

like man’s best friend?? no, GIRL’S BEST FRIEND!!

hugs and cuddles and squishes all the big dogs

she thinks small dogs are spawns of satan

sakura and her have definitely quarreled over this

but at the end of the day, all dogs are adorable fur babies, so she lets it slide :,)

KIBA

kiba always looks SO GOOD in photos you take of him, candid or not

like you could just whip out a camera and snap a photo of him at any given moment and he would look perfect

you framed a picture of him yelling at akamaru for peeing inside the house

it’s pure artwork

i feel like he tries to swagger around with his hands shoved in his pockets but it fails MISERABLY and the girls are wondering if he broke his leg or something 😭

kiba just walk normally. for the love of god please just walk normally.

he tries to slump back in his chair really low but one time he slouched way too low so he slipped off of his chair and onto the ground LMFAOOOO

he just wallowed there... in shame...

also.. he LOVES when the girls put makeup on him!!

he tries to act like he hates it. but it secretly gives him so much confidence

not to mention the girls hyping him up are a huge ego boost

okay the inside of his jacket hood is the warmest. thing. EVER!!!

seriously, no wonder this dude is so happy-go-lucky all the time, he’s living in literal heaven 24/7

it’s like you’re sleeping on a cloud inside a warm, cozy bed during a cold winter morning

10/10 would recommend letting him give you his sweatshirt when you’re chillin with a hair tie ❤️

HINATA

always smells like lavender soap. always

also has the cutest pencil pouches with little puppy faces and kawaii things

oH and she has those mini yoobi highlighters, she thinks they’re so cute (and functional!)

everyone flocks to her to try them out and marvel at the cute tiny highlighters

and they try to steal them from her but she doesn’t even stop them because she’s too timid to 😭

naruto goes BALLISTIC over them

she lets him have all of them <3

tennis girl!!! tennis girl.

all of her opponents always underestimate her because she’s so timid and shy and quiet

but she has a KILLER serve

and then she takes her opponents to the slaughterhouse with a complete shutout ;)

she’s really athletic believe it or not, she can beat most of the boys in a mile run and she has incredible endurance

i feel like she really loves velvet scrunchies

she just thinks they’re so pretty and they keep her hair soft so they’re cute and functional

also takes the PRETTIEST notes!!

color codes, dividers, headers, you name it, it’s all super readable too its insane

everyone asks her for her notes, not to study but just to appreciate the pure artwork that it is ^w^

SHINO

shino is SO easy to prank

“how do you catch an eyemaster?” *cue naruto and kiba snickering*

“eyemaster bait. that is because—”

even when everyone’s laughing their asses off, he still continues to explain his answer since he does NOT GET THE JOKE

tried his hand at writing haikus

here’s his best one so far:

“Bugs are amazing. That is because they are bugs. Bugs are very nice.” - Shino Aburame

VERY proud of it, since it took him weeks to perfect

praise it, pls

had one of those ant farms and bug-catching kits as a kid

and he would fill the kit TO THE BRIM. LIKE IT WAS HEAVY BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY BUGS.

he loves the little chitters of the different bugs

he had jars of different bugs all lined up on a wall shelf in his room

collects silkworms off of trees and sticks them into his pockets (no i definitely did not do this as a kid...)

HELP I FEEL LIKE he would record a timelapse of his ant farm growing and upload it to youtube with a movie maker title screen that says

“my ants”

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

[nobodyfamousposts]

Helluva Deal (Miraculous X Helluva Boss)

Well, since Miraculous crossovers with Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel are a thing now, I figured I’d write my own on how I think it would likely go. Since this IS the Helluva Boss universe, expect mentions of death and the afterlife, allusions to violence, innuendos, and general inappropriateness:

“Let me get this straight.”

Blitzo stared down the demon before him.

Said demon simply looked back, unimpressed. The little thing was small with blue skin, dorky-looking round glasses, and uneven horns. It wasn’t even a notable demon. Just a random weaker demon who somehow got the funds to pay for their services.

And normally, Blitzo was hardly one to turn down money—or a job that offered money. But this…

“You want to pay us to kidnap someone from Earth—not murder, which is in our company’s name, but kidnap. Which is decidedly more difficult and less fun.”

“Yep.”

Blitzo steepled his fingers together and held them up to his face. “And you want this person kidnapped—not so you can kill her yourself for whatever issue you may have, but because you want her to make you a jacket.”

“Yep.”

“A plain old jacket you could just get anywhere here in Hell.”

The demon gasped in offense. “It’s not just ANY jacket! It’s an MDC original piece and I want one!”

Blitzo took a breath, getting the feeling he was going to regret this. 

“Why?”

This…made the demon pause and eventually shrug. “Well, I did say I would have died for an MDC jacket. And I’m dead now, so…gimme.”

Well, who was he to argue with that logic?

Although…

“That is going to require quite a bit more effort…” He started, obviously leading…

The demon gave a flat look. “I’m not paying you double. I need the rest to pay her for the jacket.”

“Why would you want to pay for it?” Blitzo demanded. “This is Hell! You’re a demon! Just steal one!”

“It’s a commission! I have to pay for it!”

Blitzo would have spit out his drink if he’d had one.

“What are you even in Hell for, anyway? You won’t kill. You won’t steal. You just want to pay some human for a jacket you could get anywhere. What’s the point of that?” He asked, giving the other demon a strange look because really, what kind of demon WANTED to pay for things?

The demon stared flatly at Blitzo, his tail flicking against the chair in apparent increasing agitation.

"Are you saying that a commission shouldn't be paid for?” The demon asked curiously, sounding a little...too polite. “Because the last guy who tried to skip out on paying for a commission died. Eyes stabbed out and everything. Do you want to risk that kind of thing happening to you?"

…

Blitzo paled.

“Oh.”

The silence lingered to the point of long past uncomfortable as the demon continued to wait for an answer and Blitzo’s not so subtle attempt to desperately press his secret security button under his desk had no effect.

This would turn out to be because of Loona disconnecting the thing due to her hangover. Though in the moment, Blitzo would choose to blame Moxie.

After a good minute of no response from his team, Blitzo started to sweat when the determined artist demon seemed to grow bored and pulled out a pencil.

He jumped to his feet.

“We’ll take the case!”

And immediately fled the room.

_______

Once on Earth, the problem came up rather quickly that they had no idea who MDC was or how to access them. The client only knew the target was a fashion designer in Paris, which narrowed it down to one city at least but still was little help when the city in question was one of the fashion capitals of the world.

Blitzo, naturally, took the lead in trying to work out a means of information gathering.

And by “naturally”, what was really meant was “horribly failing”.

“I’m telling you, the plan is foolproof. We hold someone for ransom until MDC trades herself.” Blitzo said with apparent glee.

“Sir, that would be the exact opposite of subtle and get us the wrong kind of attention!”

Moxie, for his part, was trying to come up with what he would call “sensible plans”. Millie was simply scouting the area while the two argued. Ever faithful Loona stayed behind to try using her own connections…a magazine.

Needless to say, Blitzo was the one carrying the team. Or at least in his not-so-humble opinion.

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “I don’t see you coming up with any plans, Moxie.”

The smaller demon gave his boss a disgruntled glare. “I already told you! We should just go back and ask the client for more information!”

“Hmm…” Blitzo paused, before pulling out his phone. “Hey, Loona. The client still in my office?”

“Yeup.”

Blitzo immediately closed the phone. “Yeah—nope.”

“Sir—”

“He gouged a guy’s eyes out, Moxie! I need my eyes! I’m too pretty to lose them! They frame my face!” Blitzo exclaimed, bringing his hands up to his head in a fit of dramatics. “Is that what you want, Moxie? Do you want me to lose my precious, precious eyes?”

Moxie stared at the man like he was insane. Granted, Moxie had long had doubts about his boss’s sanity, but still...

“Hey, fellas?” Millie called, interrupting the two as she waved them over to the side of the building they had set up a temporary base atop of. “Listen to this!”

Blitzo immediately headed over, with Moxie following along behind looking annoyed. As they got closer, they heard what Millie had called them over about. Blitzo leaned over and peeked into the room in question.

Below them was an open window of the building where apparently a number of teenagers were gathered within for some inexplicable reason. And in this specific room, a group of the teens were gathered around one particular girl with a large forehead and hair that appeared to be made of meat. It was this girl who had their attention.

“—really friends with MDC?” One short blonde asked, looking overly excited like Blitzo did when he got a paycheck.

“Of course!” The meat-girl replied, looking smug. “We go way back! I was even the one who encouraged him to start in fashion and inspired his Heroes line.”

Blitzo looked back up at his team. “I thought MDC was a girl?”

Moxie shrugged. “If no one knows their real identity who's to say if they're a boy or a girl?"

“What else are they saying?” Millie asked, which returned the focus to the room.

More talking from below, using words that none of the demons really understood or cared about.

“—which was why he even made the Fox outfit for me!”

“Wasn’t that design based on Rena Rouge rather than Volpina?” One other girl with blue hair asked from the doorway of the room. She appeared to be rather annoyed for some odd reason.

The meat-girl looked somber. “Well, that was before he had to change it. After all, as bold as he is, not many people would support an akuma line, even if he had kept my idea to donate the funds to charity for the victims.”

The group “oo”-ed over the girl and praised her for her thoughtfulness. The meat-girl preened at the attention. The bluenette rolled her eyes. Some other blond guy looked on in disappointment.

“How amazing!” The little blonde exclaimed, clasping her hands to her cheeks. “I’d love to be able to meet MDC!”

“So would we!”

All eyes fell to the window which Blitzo, Millie, and Moxie used to make their entrance.

Honestly, he thought it was one of his better displays of dramatics. It certainly warranted some applause. Or screams of fear. Maybe one fainting.

“Akuma!”

Honestly, he was rather disappointed by the underwhelming response.

“I know we're demons and all, but I thought this place was French, not Japanese!"

“Nevermind that.” Blitzo replied to his workers before stepping forward to face the students.

Or rather one student in particular.

“Greetings! I am Blitzo. The two behind me are Millie and Moxie.”

The class stared as one of the two glared at them while the other waved cheerfully—or would be considered cheerfully if her teeth weren’t so razor sharp.

“We represent IMP, a for-hire group out of Hell. We take contracts, complete tasks, and make wishes come true!”

The teens looked at the demons in wariness and confusion.

“That sounds nice…” The little blonde in pink said.

“Those wishes generally involve murder.”

“I take it back! That sounds horrible!”

Blitzo grinned. “We are the ‘Immediate Murder Professionals’, dealing with the unfinished business of those poor wretched souls who are seeking some small vindication in their current status in Hell.”

“Then…why are you here?” The bigger male demanded.

Blitzo ignored him in favor of his true target.

“You! Ugly girl!” He shouted, grabbing the meat-girl.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, insulted.

He shook her. “Take us to MDC and we’ll rip out those sausage-links you call hair!”

“…don’t you mean ‘or’?”

He grinned ferally.

“No.”

She shrieked in fear.

“Lila!” Others cried out in horror.

Ah, yes. There was the fear. This, Blitzo was good with. It made him feel better about the previous lackluster response to his entrance.

“Why do you want me?!” The girl—Lila shouted, looking panicked. “I don’t know where MDC is!”

He raised an eyebrow at this. “But you said you were friends.”

She glanced around, taking note of the fact that her cohorts were still in the room. Though he didn’t know why that should matter for her answer.

“We are! But…I don’t know where he lives now! He’s moved since his name got out there and hasn’t given me the address yet!”

A glasses-wearing girl frowned in confusion. “But didn’t you just say that he invited you to his house for fittings?”

“Yeah, you said it was for the latest line that just came out.” Another girl with multi-colored hair added.

“That was months ago. Before he moved.” Lila replied quickly. “So I can’t help you.”

“Sure, you can!” Blitzo replied jovially. “We can just use you as ransom until MDC agrees to hand himself over.”

Moxie approached the two, keeping his gun leveled at the other kids. “We can save some time and see if she can’t call him.”

“Hey, yeah!” Millie agreed, grabbing Lila’s bag off of her and searching for her phone. “If they’re friends, she’s gotta have his contact info!”

“It’s not in there!” Lila replied quickly. “I was worried someone would steal my phone to get his info so I don’t keep his number in my phone!”

Millie frowned, before holding the now open phone up to Lila. “Then just type in the number yourself.”

Lila glanced around the room in growing agitation. “I can’t! I don’t have it memorized!”

“Then where did you write it down?”

“I lost it!”

The demons were looking particularly vexed.

“When and where?”

“It was a while ago. I don’t know where.” Lila replied.

A girl with glasses looked at her in confusion. “But didn’t you say you just called him this morning to congratulate him on the new line? And that he promised you a free outfit as thanks for all your help?”

Lila paled. “I—”

“Then the number should still be in the phone under its call history.” Moxie noted. Millie grinned and looked back to the phone screen to look through the data.

“I deleted it right after!” Lila shouted desperately.

Millie looked up at her in irritation.

Then promptly crushed the phone in her grip.

Lila shrieked, though it would be up for debate as to whether it was in shock at the loss of her phone or in fear that she may soon share that same fate.

Blitzo seemed similarly put out, but ended up shrugging it off as he pulled Lila closer to him. “Then it’s back to Plan A to hold her for ransom. Or torture her to see if she can’t remember the details.”

“No, please!”

“Lila!”

“Let her go!”

Lila grabbed at the arm holding her, panicked but not enough beyond reasoning. She couldn’t afford to reveal she lied now. She could only hope that these monsters would take her somewhere private where she could manipulate them with less witnesses.

Marinette, for her part, was also analyzing the situation.

These were three unknowns. Definitely not akumas. If they were to be believed, they were actual demons. From Hell. Which existed, apparently. And was where Lila would likely find herself in the next hour if she kept this up.

But from Lila’s expression, it seemed she was insistent on staying tight-lipped about her lies. Marinette figured as much due to her history. But she would have thought that Lila would have had some measure of self-preservation. Though perhaps that only applied to the preservation of her lies and manipulations rather than her own well being.

It was clear that Lila wasn’t going to get herself out of this. Not in any way that would spare her and everyone else in the room, at any rate.

As it was, the classmates were about to rally in Lila’s defense. While they had stood their own against akumas in the past,Marinette didn’t want to see how well they would fare against demons. Nor did she want to have to test if the Miraculous Cure would be enough to fix whatever would be left of them if they tried.

Marinette looked to the doorway.

No one was paying any attention to her right now. She could escape. She could go out, find a place to transform, and come back to deal with these…demons.

But by the time she returned, who was to say what could happen. The demons could kill Lila. They could kill all of her friends for being witnesses.

Ladybug may not be able to fix this.

But Marinette…as Marinette, she could.

“I’m MDC.” Marinette admitted.

Everyone froze.

“Come again.”

“MDC.” Marinette enunciated. “It stands for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. My name. I’m MDC. I’m the one you want.”

Alya stared. “Girl?”

Moxie looked at her in consideration. “That would fit with the client’s report of MDC being female.”

Millie, frowned in suspicion. “How do we know she’s really MDC?”

Marinette took a breath and slowly pulled out her tablet. “Well, my signature is in the clothes, so if you’ll let me pull up one of the shots, I can point it out and—”

Blitzo cut her off, grabbing her arm. “Yeah, I think we’ll just take you both and let the client sort it out. Sound good? Good, because we’re leaving.”

“Bye all!” Millie said, waving to the group. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

Moxie rolled his eyes. “That’s a pretty short list…”

Blitzo ignored them an opened a portal, dragging both girls after him. Without a glance back, both Millie and Moxie followed him through the portal. Before anyone else could move, the gateway closed behind them.

A long pause followed.

“Not so fast!”

Suddenly, the door was kicked open as Chat Noir burst into the room.

The much less enemy-filled room.

“Um…did I miss the party?”

_______

The room they soon found themselves appeared, for all intents and purposes, completely normal. It looked like an office of the sort they’d find anywhere in Paris. Complete with a secretary’s desk, a few chairs, and a table littered with magazines.

The difference was made quickly apparent, however, through the view out the window. The landscape the deceptively quaint room was mostly a collage of red and black, with a sunless sky above and a myriad of strange buildings. Also of note where the various denizens of…distinctly non-human appearance wandering the streets outside.

“All right, ladies! Welcome to Hell!” Blitzo announced with a flourish, causing the girls to pale.

Lila fell back with a screech, landing on her butt and immediately attempting to scuttle back away. Her path was quickly halted as she bumped into something. Looking up, that “something” was actually a wolf monster, making Lila panic even further.

Loona, for her part, was not having a good morning—ignoring, of course, that it was actually the afternoon. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that her hangover still hadn’t cleared, now some…thing had shoved into her, followed shortly by an ear-piercing shriek that only made her head feel worse.

Seeing the way the wolf demon growled, Lila opened her mouth, possibly to scream even more when Marinette quickly shoved a hand over her mouth with a smile to Loona.

“Oh my! Your hairstyle is quite lovely!” She lied. Blatantly lied to the wolf girl’s face.

“It’s bed-head.”

“I couldn’t even tell. It looks so sleek and shiny!”

“Whatever.” Loona grumbled and stormed off to the break room, slamming the door behind her (and then immediately regretting it due to the noise agitating her headache).

Marinette decided to take the initiative. “So…what do you want with us, anyway?”

“Our client paid us a pretty penny—”

“Basic contract.” Moxie interrupted.

“Pretty. Penny.” Blitzo continued as if he hadn’t heard. “For a chance to meet with MDC.”

Okay, they had mentioned that before.

“Then what?”

“If you are MDC, you can do whatever the client is wanting. If you’re not, you’ll at least make for a decent distraction while we escape and blow up the building.”

The humans in the room blanched at that.

“WHAT?!”

“I know. She was a beautiful building.” Blitzo said mournfully as he actually wiped a tear from his eye. “And I just got my office arranged how I like it, too. But it

Marinette stared.

Lila whimpered.

“I second that ‘what’.” Moxie interrupted. “Nobody at any point discussed blowing up the building!”

“It was on page 3 of the handout I gave you this morning, Moxie.” Blitzo exclaimed, covering his eyes in exasperation. “At least read the mission briefings!”

“Sir, the ‘handout’ was a paper napkin. There was no third page!” Moxie insisted.

Beside him, Millie for her part was looking over the aforementioned napkin for the part that was supposed to mention the circumstances in question…or really any of the plan.

“We’ll discuss it later.” Blitzo said over his shoulder to Moxie as he proceeded to grab both human girls and drag them over to a previously closed door.

“Hey wait—!”

“Hang on!”

Within seconds, Blitzo opened the door and proceeded to shove both girls through before slamming it shut behind them, the last thing they heard being him mentioning where to buy explosives.

_______

So.

Recap.

Hell was real. Demons were a thing. And the two human girls were getting a first hand view of the less than pleasant or holy side of the afterlife.

Marinette was…actually taking it all in stride.

Lila was less so. She was sitting ramrod straight in the chair, keeping a tight grip on her knees and trying very hard not to move as her eyes glanced quickly around the room at the assembled demons.

Marinette actually felt bad for her. And probably should have been panicking herself, all things considered. Maybe she would have been had it not been for her extensive experience as Ladybug.

Sure, it was Hell, but floating gods and people turning into monsters had already broadened her horizons of the possibilities of the universe. Plus despite the name of the company that had kidnapped them both, murder didn’t appear to be on the table. All in all, despite the circumstances, Marinette didn’t feel that scared.

The fact that the “client” in question who hired the group was actually a fan of hers wanting a commission helped quite a bit with that.

As did the flattery.

“OMG! OMG! I can’t believe it! It’s you! Can I get your autograph?! No—wait! I need to focus! Can I get a jacket with your autograph?!”

“Thank you.” Marinette said, somewhat flustered. Honestly, she hadn’t thought she had gained THAT much fame. Especially not enough for someone to want to commission her from the afterlife.

…was that a thing? Could that be a thing?

“What I don’t get is why the other girl had to tag along?” The demon asked, curiously. “Is she your assistant or something?”

Lila brightened, looking ready to speak—likely to try to lie her way out of this. Or mess up what little peace Marinette had managed to create.

“No!” Marinette interrupted quickly, ignoring Lila’s petulant glare. “No, she’s not. There was just a mix up since they didn’t know where I was or who to bring.”

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “Well, how were we supposed to know?!”

“You could have asked me when I contracted you.” Said the demon, somewhat annoyed.

“I have a website, you know.” Said Marinette, very annoyed.

They paused.

“…the fuck’s a website?”

Silence.

Marinette coughed. “In any case, you wanted to commission me?”

“Oh, yes!”

_______

It didn’t take long to make the arrangements. Marinette named her prices and the demon was more than willing to pay her for her services. They made use of Blitzo’s office to negotiate and fine tune some details regarding the arrangement. From determining the materials to writing up the contract to negotiating the costs, it was all pretty professional.

And ultimately involved the humans not being murdered and the building not being blown up, which was always preferable.

It finally came down to determining just how the demon customer wanted the jacket to look, and Marinette started drawing out some sample sketches on spare paper in the office that may or may not have been important documents for Blitzo which she may or may not have particularly cared given the whole “kidnapping and being used as a sacrifice” matter.

The only issue seemed to be that the demon customer wanted the jacket to be made of materials that were only available in Hell. Which made sense, she supposed, since she wasn’t sure how long anything she made on Earth would last in this environment. Millie and Moxie had been sent out to gather the necessary material in question, and what they returned with was a strange sort of leather. It was unique and of a color she had never seen before, and part of her really wanted to get a bit more detail about the make.

…given how pale Lila had already gotten, Marinette kindly decided to refrain from asking questions.

“Well then, let’s go over a few sketches and determine which one you like.”

The demon looked almost giddy at the prospect. The IMP team looked relieved. Except Blitzo, who still seemed to be pouting over their takeover of his office.

Lila was…less enthused. “WHAT?! What are you thinking?! He’s a demon!”

Marinette shrugged. “Well, I do have a non-discrimination clause.”

“That shouldn’t apply to demons!” Lila hissed lowly.

“The demons who have brought us to Hell and are currently our only way of getting back.” Marinette pointed out, dryly.

Lila huffed and went back to her chair.

So, with Blitzo and his team begrudgingly kindly being forced willing to donate their office for her use, Marinette sent to work to try and design a jacket to the client’s taste as quickly as possible.

The sooner she got done, the sooner they could go back to Earth.

…hopefully.

Lila, for her part, was terrified and miserable and just wanting to go back to Earth. Immediately would be preferable. Even without Marinette.

Yeah, thanks Lila.

“Why do I have to stay here? Why can’t I go back home? Or do anything else?”

The client tilted his head. “Are you saying you don’t like art? Because the last person who told me they didn’t like art had their eyes stabbed out. With pencils. Would you want that to happen to you?”

“…can’t I like art and not stay in Hell?”

“No.”

Lila paled and sunk lower in her seat, where she remained quiet for the next couple of hours while Marinette worked.

It was mostly in silence as Marinette drew one sketch after another. Asking occasional questions about preferred length, how many pockets, special embellishments, and which parts of the various jacket styles did he prefer. Eventually, they had come to an agreement about the set look he wanted, the materials needed, and when he wanted it completed by. And from there came the matter of payment…

“Um…I’m not sure what the exchange rate is for Hell currency.” Marinette said, looking at the coins he handed her.

The demon frowned, tilting his head in consideration. “I could always rob a human bank and pay you with that.”

Marinette paled.

“This is fine. Really. I can probably buy some things from Hell with this.” She said with a forced smile.

“There are tons of things you can only find here.” Millie said, brightening. “We could deliver them for you!”

Well, that was a good point.

“That’s true.” Moxie agreed. “You could make other things with the fabrics here. Hats. Shirts.”

He paused, looking over his shoulder at Millie who was busy chatting with the customer regarding the fabric he chose. Seeing she was suitably distracted, he turned to Marinette. “So…how much would it be to make a dress. Just out of curiosity.”

Aww. Even in Hell there was love.

She smiled. “We can certainly discuss it.”

The moment was ruined as Blitzo stepped in and slung an arm around Marinette’s shoulder.

“How about one of those sexy maid outfits for the bedroom? You’re French, right?” He asked before giving Moxie a nudge. “You could stand to have a little more fun in the bedroom.”

“Sir, I’m 14.” Marinette replied dryly.

“And what we do in the bedroom is none of your business!” Moxie rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t we just have a discussion about this last week?”

Marinette coughed as the two started to argue. “So…um…are we going to return to Earth so I can start working on this?”

Blitzo sighed. “Fine, fine. Killjoys.”

Lila heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God.”

_______

With an agreement forged between Marinette and IMP to have the customer’s order completed and delivered within two week’s time, Marinette and Lila were safely deposited back in their classroom no worse for wear.

…well, physically. Mentally, there were probably going to be a few scars.

Several of their classmates had apparently remained since the earlier incident. Perhaps it was out of worry? Or maybe classes had resumed after their disappearance—akuma attacks and strange circumstances had become rather common, after all.

Still, it was Alya’s cry of surprise and then being pulled into a hug that assured Marinette she was, in fact, back home.

“You’re back!” Alya exclaimed, relieved. “We were so worried!”

It wasn’t every day your best friend and classmate was dragged to Hell, after all.

“—and I’d been trying to reach out to Ladybug and Chat Noir, but only Chat showed up and Ladybug must be busy or maybe she already knew? Did she help you? How did you escape?”

Part of her wondered if Alya had even stopped to breathe. The rest of her was just basking in the happiness that they had made it back safe and nothing too terrible had happened in the meantime.

The absolute LAST thing she needed was to come back and find out Hawk Moth had let loose another akuma that destroyed Paris while she was gone.

Alya suddenly gasped as though struck by a thought.

“Oh my god, Marinette! I can’t believe you did that!”

Marinette smiled. “Well, I had to—”

“You claimed to be MDC just to protect Lila! And here I thought you hated her!”

Happy feeling gone. Gone like a punch to the face. Knocked out. Dead, even.

Alya beamed. “I’m so proud of you, girl! I knew deep down that—”

“Nope!” Came a quick interruption. “That’s not what happened. It was just a lie. Completely and utterly.”

The interruption was half expected.

The fact that it came from Lila was not.

Everyone froze.

“What?”

“I never met MDC.” Lila explained, wasting absolutely no time with subtleties and just blurting it out. “I never knew Marinette was MDC. I just lied about knowing him because I thought he was the next big thing and I knew you would all believe me.”

“…what?”

Lila sighed. “I lied about knowing MDC. And being the muse behind his fashion line—well, hers. Since Marinette is MDC. She never lied. I did.”

The classmates were startled, but seemed to be taking in the information.

Rose, for her part, tried to be positive. “Oh...well, you didn’t have to lie about knowing MDC—”

“No, I mean about everything. Ever. In fact, there’s probably not a single time we’ve known each other that I was ever honest with any of you.”

Everyone stared.

“I’ve been lying since the moment we’ve met.” Lila continued. “I am a liar. Always have been. I am a horrible lying liar who lied about everyone I ever claimed to know and everything I ever said I did just to get you all to admire me because it was easier to manipulate you that way and get you to do things I wanted. From interviewing me for the Ladyblog to carrying my lunch tray to buying me things. I lied about having tinnitus just to get to sit next to Adrien and lied about not being interested in him to manipulate Nino into guilting him into letting me come to his house. Ladybug herself even called me out for lying. And when Marinette got upset that day I came back over the seat change? I threatened her in the bathroom because she was wise to me from the very start.”

A few stares were sent Marinette’s way. She didn’t have any explanation for them though. She was just as surprised as they were. More, even.

Lila shrugged. “Everything I’ve said. Everything I’ve done. All lies. Ever.”

Everyone gaped in shock. Nobody even really knew what to say.

Marinette started. “But why—”

“Because that was Hell, Marinette. HELL. The bad place you go to after you die, reserved for bad people. And until today, I didn’t even think it was real. Or that there could be a chance I could end up there. But I imagine if anything would warrant that, it’d be lying, manipulating, and trying to get revenge on a superhero.”

Nino blinked. “Wait…what was that last one—”

As if a great weight was lifted from her shoulders, Lila sighed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go join a convent to try and save my soul now that I know I have one.”

With that, she promptly exited the room, leaving the group staring after her in complete bewilderment.

Alya gaped. “...what?”

_________

Epilogue: 

Marinette completed her commission to the demon and later for Moxie. Her fame increased in both realms and she eventually did open up her own design house. The only issue came in the customers who wanted to pay her by removing her competition, which she was mostly able to prevent until IMP took a hit on Gabriel Agreste. While Marinette did stop the attempted murder, this did still reveal his secondary identity of Hawk Moth, allowing the Butterfly and Peacock to be recovered and peace to return to Paris.

The classmates were shocked at the reveal of Lila’s true nature, but were more bewildered than anything given how it happened. They did all feel foolish and embarrassed for trusting Lila, but considering what could have happened, they all chose to take it as a life lesson to be more cautious in the future. They all remained friends and moved on to live quite fulfilling lives.

IMP formed a contract with MDC and gained a secondary job of delivery service as well as assassins, which increased their profits.

And Millie loved her new dress.

Lila Rossi convinced her mother to send her to a convent, where she became one of the most pious and devout members, spreading the message of being good in life more than any other.

[byunbaekby]

title: haven’t been caught pairing: badboy!haechan x goodgirl!reader word count: 1.7k genres: fluff, established relationship au, high school au, secret relationship warnings: mentions of weed, suggestiveness, one cuss word, not proofread additional: based on the song “good girls” by 5 seconds of summer. also, big thanks to @florence-cvrt​ for all their help <3

-

She's good at school, she's never truant She can speak French, I think she's fluent.

“Lee Donghyuck, if you don’t get your hand off my thigh right this instant, I will tell Mr. Qian to fail you.”

You bring a light slap down on his hand, which is threatening to slide up your skirt. Your boyfriend’s hand immediately leaves your leg, innocently tucking it back into his lap. When you turn to him, his pretty lips are spread into a fake virtuous smile and his long hair barely covers his entertained sparkling eyes. Still, he complains, “Wait until I tell the student body that their vice president is actually violent and manipulative.” 

He tsk’s as you show no reaction, instead flipping through the pages of the French textbook. “What would you tell them?” 

Donghyuck leans back in his desk chair where the two of you reside in an empty classroom, adjusting the collar of his leather jacket before running a hand through his hair. “That even though you walk around school smiling at everyone and kissing teachers’ asses, you love hitting your boyfriend and threatening him.”

“You, my boyfriend?” You laugh at him, eyes never leaving the book. “They’d never believe you.”

You’re right, because the school has no idea that you, the It Girl and vice president of the student body council, are dating Lee Donghyuck, the guy who smokes weed behind the school and always skips class for no important reason other than to entertain himself. How you even started dating is another story, but now your relationship is on the infinite downlow.

“You’re right,” he relents, but he’s obviously not given up yet as he leans closer to you. You try not to get swayed by the sudden infiltration of his scent, and continue scanning the pages of the French book. “They won’t. But it wouldn’t be a surprise. I mean, we’d be the hottest couple ever. So, maybe I should put a nice big hickey, right there on your pretty neck. Maybe then they’ll believe you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be,” teases your boyfriend, his voice dipping lower into dangerous territory. 

You roll your eyes. “Sure,” you respond sarcastically.

“If you say so.”

Before you know it, your boyfriend has leaned in to kiss you, lips inches away from yours. When you realize what he’s up to you put a hand up, so his lips meet your palm instead of their intended destination. “No.”

A whine leaves him, a stark juxtaposition from his dark appearance. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not appropriate.”

“Not appropriate?” he questions, crossing his leather covered arms across his chest. “You’re my girlfriend.”

A shake of your head tells him no, along with a teasing smirk upon your lips. “Not right now. Right now, I’m your French tutor. Now pay attention,” you tell him, gaze skimming the textbook page. 

“Fine,” he scoffs, leaning back in his chair. 

“Je suis allé au café et j'ai pris une tasse de café. Translate that for me.”

“That means,” he starts, rolling his neck back to stretch it out, looking less than interested in the lesson. “My boyfriend is so sexy and I wish he would kiss me right now.”

Your eyes narrow, and you shake your head. He speaks up again. “I was kidding, actually it means, Donghyuck, I love when you wear your leather jacket, it makes you look so sexy.” 

You lean forward, capturing your head in your hands in frustration. He just laughs. “Tu es une telle honte, pourquoi je sors avec toi,” you sigh out, exasperated. 

“Oh,” he hums, leaning forward to hold your hands instead. “Maybe that one means, My girlfriend is so beautiful and smart?” You look up at him, raising an eyebrow at his sudden attempt to appeal to you. “Because you are.”

You roll your eyes, a smile spreading over your lips. “Actually I was calling you a disgrace and wondering why I’m even dating you.”

“Not surprised,” he chuckles softly, but immediately closes the French textbook on the desk before the two of you. “Come on, you know I’m not good at this school thing. Mr. Qian already knew that when he asked you to tutor me. How about,” he tilts his head at you, about to put up an offer. “We ditch this tutoring session and go get some ice cream? On me.”

A purse of your lips tells him you’re considering it, and he adds, “If anything, I’m just studying more by being with a beautiful lady who speaks fluent French.” 

You chuckle, leaning forward with pursed lips. “Je t'aime.”

“That one I know,” he smiles as he presses a sweet kiss to your lips. “Love you too. Now let’s go,” he says, standing and pulling you along by the hand. 

'Cause every night she studies hard in her room At least that's what her parents assume But she sneaks out the window to meet with her boyfriend.

Carefully you climb down the side of the house, trying your best not to make any noise against the wall but also trying not to fall to your death. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as both your feet touch the solid ground.

“Going somewhere?”

Immediately you jump, eyes widened as you turn to meet the owner of the voice. “Donghyuck!” You hiss, voice still low. “I thought you were my dad!”

“Well, you can call me daddy too,” your boyfriend says as he approaches you to press a kiss on your cheek. The tip of his light chin stubble brushes on your skin as he does so. 

“Don’t even joke about that,” you roll your eyes, allowing him to slide an arm over your shoulder and walk you down the street to where he parked his car out of view from your house. “So, where are we going?” “A friend’s party. His name is Mark.”

A cautious eyebrow is raised by you. “Will anyone from school be there?”

He shakes his head in response, knowing you can’t be spotted together especially with you under his arm at a college party of course. You’ve got to protect your precious reputation. “Nah, he’s in college. There’s no way he’d let high schoolers in.”

“We’re high schoolers, silly.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs before turning and grinning sinfully at you. “But we’re cool.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” you tease as he releases you and unlocks his car.

She may be clever but she just acts too square 'Cause in the back of the room where nobody looks She'll be with her boyfriend, she's not reading books.

As you slide up onto your tiptoes, the feeling of your boyfriend pressing against you is much too present and you scoff. “Can you stop being a horndog and get this book for me?”

“Darling,” he chastises, reaching up to grab it easily above you. “That’s what I was doing.”

As he hands the book to you, you roll your eyes. “Sure, like you weren’t trying to rub up on me.” 

“Not at all,” responds Donghyuck, dark eyes glinting with mischief. You leave him behind as you turn into the next aisle, searching carefully for the next book you were looking for. As you get deeper into the library shelves, the light gets further away and the tall shelves begin to cast a shadow upon your hidden figures. “Why do you even wear your uniform, anyways? You know it’s not required by the school.” 

“Yeah,” you respond matter-of-factly. “But as the vice president I should adhere to the suggestions set by the administration. Clearly you don’t care,” you say, glancing over his usual outfit of ripped jeans (which definitely didn’t fit normal dress code anyways) and his trademark leather jacket over a white Adidas shirt. 

“Okay, but your president Huang Renjun is a lame virgin with a stick up his ass and even he doesn’t wear his uniform everyday,” retorts your boyfriend.

“More reason why I should have been president instead,” you respond, scanning over the back of a book sounding not at all petty.

“That’s because at the time, you were more focused on becoming my girlfriend than campaigning, you minx,” Donghyuck teases as you slide the book back into its place, unsatisfied with its synopsis. When you don’t respond, instead turning into yet another aisle, he follows you, fingers tugging slightly at your skirt. “That’s okay, I like the skirt anyways,” he says, his famous smirk over his lips as your mouth gapes and a flustered warmth slides up to your cheeks. “S’cute.”

She said to me, forget what you thought 'Cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Donghyuck already starts as he approaches you in the front of the school, already losing his bad boy personality in the fear that you’d be upset at him. “I’m so sorry.”

The two of you had been caught making out in the bleachers by a few members of the football team after school yesterday. Okay, perhaps it wasn’t the most discreet of places but you swore they’d announced over the intercom that football practice was cancelled for the day! Unluckily, it seemed a few players still wanted to get some practice in. 

Surely, rumors flew in less than twenty-four hours. Y/N, with Donghyuck? No way. Impossible.

Yeah, that was what you thought too, until it happened. You fell for him, for all his rough edges and playful teasing. He doesn’t deserve to be hidden. 

The smile you give him must throw him off, because he blinks. He’s probably forgotten his pre-made apology; he knows how important your reputation is to him. In his silence, you speak up.

“I don’t want to hide anymore. Let’s,” you propose as you interlace your hands, surely feeling eyes on you already. “Show them what a hot couple looks like.” 

He blinks, eyes flying to your hands and it’s probably the first time you’ve seen the snarky Donghyuck speechless. He recovers smoothly, smirking and nodding. “Okay. Let’s blow them away.” 

“But if you fail your French test in third period, I will break up with you.”

A boisterous laugh leaves his lips as he kicks open the doors to the school hallway. “Noted.”

Before the two of you enter the hallway to expose your unlikely clandestine romance to everyone, you lean up and whisper in his ear. “Je t'aime.”

“I know what that means,” he smirks as he presses a proud kiss onto your temple, and takes a step inside. 

[ssatoritendou]

Murder Mystery Dinner Party

Pairing: ranpo/reader

ranpo edogawa

Word count: 2.9k

+ summary: You are trapped with your mortal enemy, ADA Detective Ranpo inside a book designed specifically for you and Ranpo. The perfect world or is it?

Genre: comedy, fluff

Warning: fowl language

How did you end up here? In this situation.

“Ranpo I look ridiculous!”

“Yes, I know.” He said. “But I look…” he looked at himself in the mirror.

“Fantastic, Ranpo. You look amazing.” You groaned.

“How we look isn’t the problem at hand. Poe’s ability has been amplified and we are stuck in a book that is a puzzle.”

“Yeah but maybe I don’t want to help you.”

“Who said I need you to help me?”

“The handcuffs provided to us say you need my help.” You said yanking his arm.

This was your worst nightmare. You were trapped in a book with one of your enemies from the ADA, more specifically Ranpo pain in the ass Ranpo. He made Dazai look like a walk in the park.

“Look I don’t want any backtalk, do as you are told my friend is trapped by an actual psychopath. Who wants to destroy the city that we love. Stop acting like a brat and help.” He dragged you out of the limousine.

“I’m not the brat. If anything you are and another thing—”

“Madame and Monsieur, may I see your invitation?”

“Invitation? But we don’t have an invitation.” Ranpo said to the butler.

You bumped his shoulder, flipping the invitation reading it out loud. “Anniversary party For Mr. and Mrs. Ranpo Edogawa. Who is the idiot who married you?” You laughed.

He looked at you looking down at your hand.

“Jesus Christ why am I married to you in this book.” You stomped in the snow-covered ground.

“Right I’m the brat?”

“The host is waiting for the lovely couple.” The man said.

“The sooner we figure out the mystery the sooner we can get out of here.”

“Hold on. I want something in return before we go forward. I’ll help you save your friend, but I want my friend back.”

“The scumbag executive?”

“He is not a scumbag. He is different from them, the rest of them. You want to talk about a scumbag I think we both know Dazai Osamu’s number.”

“If Poe gets out of here alive, I will talk to him and Dazai to getting your mentor out of the book.” He stuck his hand out to you, you believing that there is no way he would lie to you it would be against his morals shook it to agree.

“Now my stand-in partner, let's solve the mystery.”

“The cocktail hour is being served in the library.” Someone said taking your jackets. “Down the hall to the right.”

The both of you looked down the hall of the mansion. and saw a light pouring out of a room, with laughter coming out of it.

“I know that laugh,” Ranpo said

“Which one there is like 10 laughs going on?” Ranpo started to run forward, to the French doors, “Hey Ranpo slow down we are handcuffed.”

“Boss!” He said to him.

“Ranpo my boy, you and my precious ___ are late to your own party. I bought you that pocket for a reason.” The boss of the ADA said patting Ranpo’s shoulder.

“___ dear, what happened to keeping him on time?”

“You know how much of an asshole Ranpo can be so I don’t have to answer that.”

The group laughed on cue.

“That wasn’t to be funny but an insult.” You grumbled.

“Yukichi leave the poor sweethearts alone. Come and sit down and relax have a drink.” Koyo said to you taking your shoulder.

“A…Ane-san?! What are you doing here?”

“Honey it is your anniversary, Edgar invited us. You know Chuuya was looking for you he wanted to give you a gift knowing that boy he is probably halfway drunk with Osamu.”

“O-Osamu? C….C..Chuuya they are here? And they aren’t trying to rip each other’s head off?”

“For you, they would never do that.” She patted your head.

You felt tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

“I’ll find them later.” You told her.

You tugged on the handcuffs pulling Ranpo into a private conversation.

“Half of the ADA is here.”

“Koyo said Osamu and Chuuya are here. I wouldn’t doubt if other people from the Mafia were here too.”

“Then who is hosting?” He asked.

“Detective it is Edgar Allen Poe. Look at these books.” You pointed to the books on the wall.

“They are all written by him. The Mansion of Tragedy.”

“Isn’t that the book he made for you?”

“Yes. How did you know that?”

You shrugged, “You learn to know things about your enemies.”

“Your eyes are red. You have been crying.”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“Miss. Ozaki told you Chuuya was here. I can tell you it is not him. It’s a fictional version of him. This book, this world that was made for us to mess with us. Nothing here is real.” He told you. “Play your part.”

“Oh yeah dotting wife to a pric—”

“Well if it isn’t the guest of the hour.” A booming voice said behind you.

“Poe!” He yelled happily.

“Took you long enough to get here!”

“Says the host who is late to the party!” Ranpo pushed his shoulder.

Poe just laughed in return. He clapped his hands together turning to the group, “Everyone's dinner and entertainment is in the dining room lets move our way there.”

The group exited the library walking ahead of you and Ranpo, following Poe.

“I thought he was an overly shy guy who hates groups and loud settings.”

“He usually is.”

“He writes this as we are in it right?”

“Sometimes. Once you solve the mystery you escape.”

“Ok so if his power is being amplified by Fydor’s accomplice. Do you think he is writing things that aren’t true or suspect to let you know?”

“Why would he do that he knows I would know that this isn’t real?”

“He put people we know in here. Fukuzawa is treating you as his son. Poe had an awesome house and is a charismatic host. There is no war going on when our friends and family are in the same room together. Have you ever seen Yosano laugh at anything Motojiro said? I vaguely remember me having to clean his wounds as he whined about his bombs weren’t good enough because she sliced him in half-healed him and cut him again and again.”

“Sounds like the perfect world. For you. Come on the other guest are waiting for us, Dear.”

The meal was lemon chicken with a side of green beans and rice.

“This is my favorite meal. How did know that?” You asked yourself that.

“Not sure,” Ranpo said taking a sip of his water.

‘He didn’t know the answer to something.’ You will hold on to that one.

There was a dinging of glass. “Welcome everyone. I invited you all here because of our shared love for this wonderful couple. To think five years ago we were all at each other’s throats. We have our own Romeo and Juliet without the tragic ending. I even remember the story of how Ranpo first met ___.”

“Poe you don’t need to tell that story.” Ranpo tried to hush him up.

“Nonsense ___ has heard this story thousands of times it’s only embarrassing for you.”

“Ranpo Sweetie let him tell the story to all our friends.” You squeezed his arm giving him a threatening smile.

“Now I’m sorry if I mess up this story I wasn’t there, just the story from Ranpo’s point of view. ___ was out with Tachihara and Gin at the arcade it was their day off in a long time. They were playing a game to see who was paying for dinner and drinks. ___ was sitting behind Gin telling her all the moves to make to beat Tachihara. She predicted every move his character in the game was making. He was so in love with her and he even started a fight just to get into close quarters with her.”

Ranpo put his face in his hands. Very embarrassed.

“That was because you wanted to talk to me?! You were with that insane farmer boy and Yosano. Kenji dislocated my shoulder. I couldn’t go on missions for months. I had to do psychical therapy. Can you imagine do psychical therapy with Mori and Elise in the room, news flash that is the torture no enemy of the Port Mafia knows! And Chuuya, Chuuya he never let me go anywhere that was out of his eyesight. It made me feel like I was a child again.” You complained, having a death grip on the fork.

The tabled laughed.

“Are they laughing at me?”

“They are laughing at Poe’s story. Story.”

“I don’t believe it’s just a story.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Now I passed the mic over to Chuuya. Who has a story about ___’s first time meeting Ranpo.”

You looked across the table to Chuuya who stood up with your diary.

“Chuuya you put that down right now! I swear to god I will kill you you might be a god but in this book we don’t have powers and I’m at least 3 inches taller than you.” You shot up from the seat leaning over the table trying to grab him.

Ranpo pulls the hem of the dress bringing you back down. “It’s time for you to be embarrassed.”

“I go-to entry on October 3rd, 2017…,

‘I have gotten myself into trouble again. But it wasn’t my fault completely it was those ADA bastards who started to fight with us for no reason. A day off in a million years. Gin and I were about to beat Tachihara, he was going to have to pay for drinks and ramen. “Someone complained that we were threatening the arcade owners” yeah as if. Now we are banned for life. I’ve been going there for years since I was a kid. Chuuya used to take me there before we were in the Port Mafia. Why did I have to back up Tachihara with that freak Kenji, that kid threw across the street into a car dislocating my shoulder. Tachihara got off with a few scarps and bruises. Lucky son of a bitch. Luckily one of them was nice he helped me up and made me a shoulder sling out my scarf. And he gave me a lollipop. Which he just had, he had very pretty eyes. If he wasn’t from the ADA I would’ve…no there is no doubt about it he was really cute even though he acted like a child. With the right amount of snooping, I can figure out his name and everything else about him.’

Ranpo turned around smirking.

You rolled your eyes. “Chuuya give me the damn diary.”

“___ dear—” You interrupted him slamming your fist on the table, he slid the book over to you. You picked it up flipping through to last year mere days before Chuuya’s birthday the day the cannibalism virus took over Mori and Fukuzawas bodies.

“God damnit it is not here. Forget it but Ranpo you need to hear this I remember every word every detail I written in that passage, ‘Ranpo Edogawa is dead to me. No matter his personality, his eyes, his smirk. He is an awful person. If Chuuya dies I vow to kill that scumbag of a detective.’ That is what I felt then and what I feel now. If this is some lame trick to make me fall in love with you I will not fall for it that easily. You took away my lifeline. No schoolgirl crush comes before Chuuya.”

“___ has Poe ever seen your diary?”

“That is what you are taking away from my speech—” he let his face fall down his emerald eyes piercing into you telling you to answer his question. “no he hasn’t.”

“Chuuya has.”

“Of course he has he is like my older brother. He purposely would go into my room looking for it to read it and make fun of me…what are you saying? Are you saying that is Chuuya my Chuuya?”

You looked at him across the table. “C…Chuuya are you in there?” You asked the expressionless man.

“Now honored guest we are going to play a game. A murder mystery dinner party. On the inside of your name cards is your role in this game.”

The crowd made an ‘ooo’ noise picking up their cards reading them to themselves.

“What does yours say?”

“Victim.” You swallowed. “Yours?”

“Victim.” You both looked at each other, instinctively grabbing hold of each other's hands. The lights fluttered off making the room turned pitch black. There was a crash and a noise a loud grunt.

The lights sparked back on, you assumed you or Ranpo would be the first to go ending your lives in this game Fydor’s accomplice was playing with you. To distract you from what was really going on.

But open the light being shown the first to die was Chuuya. You gasped hand grabbing your face.

“He isn’t dead. Yosano died in one of these books before the sooner I figure out the who done it we all go back to our reality.”

“Does that mean Chuuya is home or is he back in his own hell?”

“That my dear I don’t know the answer too.” He looked over at you your eyes scanning over Chuuya’s lifeless body, bleeding out, eyes not even close just starring holes back at you.

“Don’t look at him, look away. Look at me.” You turned your eyes towards the brilliant detective, your eyes are glassy. “The lights will turn off again in 20 seconds pick up your knife and if someone grabs you touch you in any way stab them over and over.”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“Yes, but you might leave a clue behind.”

The room is pitch black again you are being yanked around from your chair. You fought back pushing one hand against the killer's chest feeling ribbon bolo tie. Gripping it you yanked it off not even making an attempted to stab him.

You felt yourself almost drifting to sleep. It was so painless, even though you were bleeding out. You didn’t even scream you had accepted the death.

The lights flickered back on, Ranpo looked over at Poe who was smirking at the little mystery he set up. He looked down at your body, people shuffling around it. Noticing the distinct bolo tie in your hand.

“Poe, I know who the murder is.”

“You do?”

“I know it to be the Twin Dark team. See Dazai is shying away from looking at ___’s body because he very much sees her as a sister figure, some he could never mess up. While being on the over the side of the table smirking at Chuuya’s body. Something he has dreamed of doing. Another aspect is ___ is holding Chuuya’s ribbon tie. She pulled it off of him during the struggle.” He clicked his tongue a few times.

“Congratulations Ranpo you solved another novel.”

“Not so fast Poe. This was sloppy work so easy so simple-minded even for you. Even pulling Chuuya from the other book. Only to kill him in front of ___ and bring him back alive to kill her in front of me. You wanted an emotional reaction that badly. Bring up my fondest for her something I told you in confidence.”

“I want to keep playing,” Poe said.

“No…no you don’t. You want to stop but your puppeteer wants to keep me and ___ in here as long as possible. In fact, they will probably make you restart over and over. But he doesn’t know you can’t do that. Once the killer or killers are revealed the book has to end and your power stops.” Ranpo explained.

There was a glow coming from a book falling off a shelf. “That is my ride. And puppeteer I would run when ___ and I wake up, she will be pissed. And Chuuya will be there.”

You shot up gasping for air.

“___ you alright?” Ranpo asked rubbing your arm.

“Who was the killer?” You asked.

“Me and that prick Dazai. God when I see that mummy again I will kill him.”

“Chuuya?” You turned your head towards your mentor and best friend for 16 years.

“Been awhile hasn’t it kid?” You got up and ran up to him hugging him. “Woah calm down you are squeezing the air out of me. It hasn’t been that long.”

“It's been a year Chuuya. You have no clue how bad it's been. It's just Mori and Koyo running everything and they had me run the weaponry. It is so boring.”

“You can keep telling me the rest once we get home. Give me your phone and I’ll call us a ride.”

“yeah.” You tossed your friend the phone. You looked over to Ranpo who was sitting with Poe. You walked over to them. “Is he alright?”

“I think he is just overworked. He probably just needs a few days in bed.”

You hugged Ranpo. “Thank you for saving him.” You pointed to Chuuya.

“Anytime. Is he ok?”

“He seems normal. Once we get back to base Mori will check him out. If anything is wrong could I call you and Poe?”

“Yes. You would have to call the office, I don’t have a cell phone.”

“Thank you.” You got up from crouching down talking to him.

“Do you actually hate me?” He asks.

“I don't know detective you tell me?” You asked running back towards Chuuya.

Ranpo chuckled hearing you and Chuuya talk in the background picking up Poe to go home.

[99liners]

terms of endearment: knb boys;

↳ concept: knb boy’s preferred names in the bedroom for you and them.

pairings: knb boys x female reader.

knb boys: hyuga junpei, kiyoshi teppei, izuki shun, GoM, kuroko, kagami and haizaki.

taglist: @knb-kreations​

a/n: if you want the other knb boys for this, please request for the same!

hyuga junpei:

loves to call you ~

when he’s eating you out: peach 

when you’re giving him a blow job: queen

when he wants to express that he wants to be inside you: “i would give up masturbating forever just to see you naked right this second.”

what he moans when he cums: cara ~  it’s latin for “beloved”

what he coos when you guys cuddle: honeybee

and he loves it when you call him:

loverboy (no, i do not take constructive criticism. i said what i said)

kiyoshi teppei:

loves to call you ~

when he’s eating you out: goddess

when he wants to express that he wants to be inside you: “i wish i could control myself better around you, but when i see you, all i want to do is rip your clothes off and fuck you.”

when you’re giving him a blow job: my little slut (has a tendency to add “my little” before a lot of nicknames because you’re too precious and dear to him)

what he moans when he cums: kitty

what he coos when you guys cuddle: mon cherie; french for “my dear”

and he loves it when you call him:

daddy (i am sorry but someone HAD to do it)

izuki shun:

loves to call you ~

when he’s eating you out: sugar (because you taste so sweet)

when you’re giving him a blow job: good girl (compliments all the way as he guides you)

when he wants to express that he wants to be inside you: “pleasuring you should be considered an honor.”

what he moans when he cums: lolita (just for the fun of it lol)

what he coos when you guys cuddle: cinnamon

and he loves it when you call him:

papi (he goes all gooey when you call him that hehe)

kise ryota:

loves to call you ~

when he’s eating you out: sexy witch (he loves to spice things up)

when you’re giving him a blow job: vixen

when he wants to express that he wants to be inside you: “let me show you some stars, love bomb.”

what he moans when he cums: tight (not necessarily a name)

what he coos when you guys cuddle: baby love

and he loves it when you call him:

darling

midorima shintaro:

loves to call you ~

when he’s eating you out: queen

when you’re giving him a blow job: spoilt brat (you totally imagined that, didn’t you?)

when he wants to express that he wants to be inside you: “i can’t stop thinking about that thing you do with your hips.”

what he moans when he cums: koishii; japanese for darling

what he coos when you guys cuddle: sweetheart

and he loves it when you call him:

preferably his name but he LOVES it when you call him handsome, yeah it’s a different story that he will never admit it

aomine daiki:

loves to call you ~

when he’s eating you out: pet

when you’re giving him a blow job: sweet cheeks (because he fills your cheeks ever so good)

when he wants to express that he wants to be inside you: “you are the only girl i could only ever make love to.” (now we all know how much you must mean to him)

what he moans when he cums: little minx (loves to call you little)

what he coos when you guys cuddle: doll

and he loves it when you call him:

sexy

murasakibara atsushi:

loves to call you ~(y’all high on weed if you think it is not going to be ALL food themed)

when he’s eating you out: candi

when you’re giving him a blow job: toy

when he wants to express that he wants to be inside you: “sit on my lap, sweets.”

what he moans when he cums: sugar plum

what he coos when you guys cuddle: sweetums 

and he loves it when you call him:

lovebug (he likes to feel small in front of you, like in a cute lovey dovey way)

akashi seijuro:

loves to call you ~

when he’s eating you out: royalty

when you’re giving him a blow job: duchess

when he wants to express that he wants to be inside you: “with every twirl of your hair and every giggle, i get a little stiffer.”

what he moans when he cums: empress

what he coos when you guys cuddle: princess

and he loves it when you call him:

contrary to popular belief, he would actually love it if you just call him something general like baby (emperor has now become kind of his professional identity and when he’s with you, although he always treats you like his empress but you calling him baby makes him feel,,, normal? you know?)

kuroko tetsuya:

loves to call you ~

when he’s eating you out: amorcita; spanish for little love

when you’re giving him a blow job: cherry

when he wants to express that he wants to be inside you: “you’re a little vixen and you constantly drive me crazy but i love it.”

what he moans when he cums: my love

what he coos when you guys cuddle: dove

and he loves it when you call him:

baby boy

haizaki shogo:

loves to call you ~

when he’s eating you out: hot stuff

when you’re giving him a blow job: doll face

when he wants to express that he wants to be inside you: “my dick wants nothing more than temporary asylum inside your pussy.”

what he moans when he cums: mine (no do not give me that look, his words not mine.)

what he coos when you guys cuddle: angel

and he loves it when you call him:

hunk

kagami taiga:

loves to call you ~

when he’s eating you out: gorgeous

when you’re giving him a blow job: baby girl

when he wants to express that he wants to be inside you: “when you touch me—even just graze my skin—i get a tingling sensation down there.”

what he moans when he cums: kitten

what he coos when you guys cuddle: sweet love

and he loves it when you call him:

tiger (it makes perfect sense!! get it? taiga-r? get it? no? okay.)

bts version | ikon version | nct version | got7 version | bigbang version | btob version | monsta x version | seventeen version | exo version | ateez version | park hyungsik version | tvxq version

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

feedback is deeply appreciated.✨

t.o.e series masterlist | masterlist | KnB masterlist | rules | ask box

jaimie

© 𝟫𝟫𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝟐𝟎𝟤𝟣. 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃.

[missvifdor]

Twisted Girls! To How the female versions of our boys react to meeting my MC /OC / YUU:

Riddle: Glad to meet a girl smaller than her! Also curious to see the difference between the MC in their world and the one here. Finds her very nice and pretty.

Leona: Oh so, the lovely Herbivore looks like this if he had been a woman? Interesting. Isn't she cute when she introduced herself and saw her blush? * Satisfied smile *

Azul: Charming creature that is! So small and pretty, Azul would be interested in making a contract with her. Act confident on the outside but inside is dying of because female MC compliments her so much on how beautiful she is!

Kalim: Wow! MC is so pretty as a woman! And kind ! She is so excited to meet her and get to know her! Oh ! Her male double might agree to organize a banquet for the occasion! * Takes her in his arms, not suspecting the effect it has on the Female MC *

Vil: So much untapped potential! Such a waste ! At least her masculine double has given this potato a skin and hair care regimen that she seems to follow through! If she weren't so concerned about this potato mess, she would recognize that this version of MC is very interesting and adorable.

Idia: Oh my! This version of MC would be perfect to be the heroine of an Otome Game! She looks so sweet, could they become friends? * Becomes a blushing mess when the female version of MC smiles softly at him *

Malleus: * Eyes that glow * Oh my god, so small! So fragile! * Tears her from Kalim's embrace to carry her in his arms * Promises to protect her at the risk of her life, her Child of Man is so cute * Coo as if she was carrying a baby*

Vice-leader:

Trey: Imagine MC exactly like this if he had been a girl! But find her a bit skinny though, will make sure she eats as well as possible! Can't wait to start chatting and getting to know her.

Ruggie: Wait, wait, wait ... is that MC ?! She looks very weak and she is tiny! How does this version plan to survive in a school full of boys ?! Ruggie knows how difficult life can be as a girl, even more so than when you come from a difficult social background! She will make sure that this little one knows how to defend herself and take care of herself. If women are not united with each other then who will be?

Jade: Oh my lord, so look at this cute little thing! Jade is sure she could easily squeeze her into his embrace! She would be so easy to tease (Pray that she and her male double don't start to ally or MC won't end it). Jade can't wait to see all of her expressions and reactions.

Jamil: First of all try to temper Kalim, she knows how intrusive or tactile the girl can be. Finds MC to be nice but too naive. Will try to make sure she is safe because after all she is an only girl in a boys' school, that can be pretty scary.

Rook: Starts speaking French and has listed all the things that make MC so beautiful and charming, she is so excited to meet new prey! And even more delighted when MC begins to answer her in French too!

Ortho: Oh! What were the odds that a meeting like this would happen ?! At least 0.0001%! Has already noticed and recorded all the differences between female MC and male MC. MC already behaves like a big brother to her, maybe this MC could become her new big sister?

Lilia: Already planning an adoption or at least a potential marriage. Malleus' reaction says too much.

The rest of our boys:

Cater: Already starting to take lots of pictures. This version of MC is too cute not to remember it! Always wondering what MC would look like if he had been a woman, here is his answer! Begins to flirt cheekily, knowing the effect it has. Is totally proud when the female MC gets even redder than Riddle when she is angry.

Ace: * Blushes * Oh my lord. MC as a guy, it's something, but as a girl ... Ace didn't even know she could have a Bi panic before today! Nervously ran a hand through his messy hair and tried his arrogant approach.

Deuce: MC as a girl who looks so nice and wise! (That's wrong, we know that female MC is far from wise). Maybe she could take her example and become his friend. Deuce feels his heart leap in his chest when their eyes meet!

Jack: * Blink twice * So small, was she even able to survive in a world like this? Maybe she should bring female MC to come and train with her? * Internal scream as she's the cutest thing she's ever seen *

Floyd: * Ripped MC from Malleus's embrace * Shrimpy is clearly the cutest creature in this universe! Oh my God ! Maybe she could bring it back with her! * Now arguing with his male double over who will have the right to squeeze Shrimpy *

Epel: * Eyes that shine * There ! This is what Epel want to look like! This version of MC looks so mature and sexy! * Promises to ask her for advice on how to look like her *

Silver: * Doesn't pay much attention to what's going on * * Just smile at female MC and go to sleep in a corner *

Sebek: How this version of MC dares to monopolize Malleus-Sama's precious time! It is a scandal ! * Start screaming in dismay but everyone ignores it*

And the male version of MC OC YUU: So that's what it feels like when you have twins? Oh, it doesn't really change in the end. If they really look alike, MC know this version won't have a problem managing his life in a boy's school. And then, now, while they're here, MC will be able to take out so much reference to his world. and Femme MC will understand them too! Talking to someone who understands will definitely do her good.

[spiltscribbles]

this night seems so long!

~Notes: I’m reposting this and i’m still not happy with it :S rip XS

SEND ME A PROMPT  |  A REBLOG MEANS THE WORLD!

.-

It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts

with the mild pheasants' song ...

but now I feel the northern wind's blast—

its severe weather strong. 

Alas! Alas! This night seems so long!

And I, because of my momentous wrong

now grieve, mourn and fast.

TS Eliot

.-

The late summer chill seeps through the creeping windows into the flat that they once called home— the feebly standing, slowly disintegrating haven that was painted with laughter before lies, with hopeful kisses before hesitant touches. The cold burrows itself into Sirius’s bones and coats his every thought and  nests deep inside of him until he’s more frost than man.

But then he sees Remus— beautiful and golden and perfect Remus— padding out their bedroom clad in Sirius’s oversized jumper that swallows his hands whole, and that familiarly gentle smile that makes his eyes glitter  once his soft gaze rests on Sirius, and his sleep supple  skin tastes like the things too beautiful to name. He tastes like Remus— like sunlight and parchment and whispered laughter and raspy groans and that’s all Sirius ever wants, has ever wanted.

“It’s September first.” He says once Sirius finally unlatches from his neck, red faced and pleased, and Sirius swears that Ganymede has nothing on him. That if he could he’d restructure every celestial star from above to follow the precise slope of his nose, and the pedal soft curve of his cheek, and the path of his jawline to temple. For everyone to worship him in ways he’s always deserved.

“We’ve made it another month,” Sirius retorts, mixes the splash of milk with the sugar in Remus’s Earl Gray, which is a travesty and a point of teasing throughout their whole relationship since they were nothing but lads. Sirius blames Remus’s beverage faux pas— including his preferential nature to black coffee—to being raised by a Frenchman for a mother, and Remus always counters that if Sirius was any more bloody English he’d be afraid that Queen Elizabeth would poach him for her next husband. Which of course always ended the argument because then Lily would laugh from besides him, and Sirius would glare along with James— both hating it when Remus and Lily’s Muggle references go over their heads like a second language they couldn’t speak.

But Lily’s not here, and neither is James. They’re tucked away in another safe house— the fourth in a calendar year, and they’re both going a bit mad if the letter Lily sent him only a few weeks ago is anything to go by. And Sirius aches for the both of them, aches for baby Harry— his one year old God son who he loves like nothing else. And how could he not? He’s Lily’s bright eyes set into James’s open face, has James’s warm, brown complexion but inherited Lily’s freckles too. He’s Sirius’s God son, and there’s a mad man after him, and sometimes it feels like Sirius’s brain is a mushy, muddled stew melting out of his scalp when he’s forced to contemplate on it for too long— to contemplate on how little Harry seems incapable of escaping the danger— because it goes back to the same name over and over again. The name of someone Sirius refuses to ever let himself contemplate for longer than a breath.

“Aye,” Remus says in that lilting, Welsh bread accent of his before he takes a slow sip and Sirius is left to study the sweep of his long lashes against his fine bones and how less than a fortnight ago that face Sirius adores so endlessly  came home caked in mud and blood that was only partially  Remus’s own and Sirius wasn’t allowed to ask what happened while he cleaned the cuts and kissed the healed pink skin with gentle reverence. “Maybe 82 will be our year Paddy.” Remus says with such raw yearning that it blows the wind out of Sirius like he’s  just taken a bludger to the gut. And he feels so stupid and thankful all at once. Because of course those idl contemplations are nothing but ridiculous fodder. Of course Remus would never— could never.

“Yeah moony,” he says quietly. “Maybe it will.”

Sirius steps forwards, and he kisses him and Remus breathes out like he’s been holding it for a long while, and then his fingers slide into Sirius’s overgrown hair and tugs,  and they’re lost in one another for the rest of the morning.

.-

Three days later Remus leaves again under demands that he won’t ever disclose to Sirius— penance for the trust Sirius broke as a schoolboy with a prank that proved near deadly— and a week after that the Order gets news that the Prewettss were compromised, that it took five of those Death Eater bastards to finish them off, and that their older sister with seven kids of her own can’t bare to hold a public wake.

The cold gets worse, and Sirius doesn’t know where to step to avoid another avalanche; is afraid that with every move he takes, a landmine is waiting to blast.

.-

The bare branches of the elderly tree outside their flat knocks against the partition that once bathed them  in spilt sunlight and stolen serenity and careful comfort. It scrapes against the glass like the fingers of an inferi, accentuated by the sound of the whistling wind, crooning like the menacing melody by a milky eyed, haggard looking banshee. And everything is unmoving, everything is still— petrified for a moment in frozen history.

And Sirius feels his insides collapse when he remembers that he’ll never hear Gideon’s laughter or see Fabian sat next to Benjy again. It’s a generation lost, Sirius thinks morbidly, the way he always gets when Remus isn’t home and he’s tossing back shots of Fire-Whiskey like it’s what keeps his veins pumping life. A generation  of them that’s being killed off one by one, a generation of Hogwarts graduates being obliterated and there’s not an end in sight and Sirius wants to scream. He wants to fight them with his bare hands. He wants to ravage each of their hideouts and use them as target practice for his unforgivables and he wants to run, God he wants to run. He wants James and Lily and Harry to come with him, wants to steel Remus in the middle of the night before he knows what’s even happening. He wants to escape it all and hold onto his family with a iron grip that can only be severed through death.

Sirius wants it so much that it begins to ache, to twist in his stomach and weep within the hollows of his bones.

But then the branches knock against the window once more, and he’s brought back to a reality the makes even idyllic daydreams like that something treacherous and awful. So he pours himself another finger and raises the glass to fallen friends and pretends that the throbbing in his heart is something that can be spelled away if he only works hard enough.

.-

Remus comes home a week later and Sirius feigns that the sight of his lover doesn’t make Sirius picture Marlene’s twisted face of agony and Dorcas’s limp body at the feet of this dark wizard that has destroyed everything Sirius has ever known and tainted everything he has ever loved.

.-

The safe house is sparsely decorated, save for the candle Lily’s always got burning and the succulent she keeps on a shelf besides a small portrait of Harry, tucked between one of her and James on their wedding day, and another of the five of them at their Hogwarts graduation. 

It’s no home, especially not one for a baby that’s as curious and boisterous as little Harry. It’s a prison at best. still packed boxes strewn about the ground, and  a tension permeating the air and it’s awful. But Sirius manages to forget about it when he glances to his right and sees a giggling Harry bouncing happily on Remus’s lap, and Remus is glowing in a way Sirius hasn’t seen for edging on a year. The stiffness threaded through his shoulders has dissipated and his smile is wide and he’s dotingly kissing Harry’s chocolate splattered cheek while James and Lily roll their eyes fondly from across the breakfast spread. And Sirius thinks that if this is all he sees for the rest of his life he would thank every God and every spirit above.

“Uncle Moony, you better be convincing Harry that if he doesn’t eat his berries that the boogie man will come and munch on his toes tonight,” Lily scolds half heartedly, which makes James drop a kiss to the crown of her head before topping off her tea.

“No toes, mommy! No toes!” Harry babbles in that in-between state of gargling and speech that is as precious as it is incomprehensible.

“Saucy boy,” Sirius chuckles, tousling Harry’s already hopelessly disheveled hair and kissing the corner of Remus’s lips that taste like hazelnut and blueberries and a bit like sunlight too. And he thinks that this is what happiness feels like— He’s nearly forgot.

“I’ll get’m washed up, shall I?” Remus says as he rises swiftly from his seat, Harry clapping excitedly. 

“Good man,” James winks and Lily blows him a kiss. Remus looks down at Sirius, a brow cocked slightly.

“I’ll be up in a minute, yeah? Just wanted to help these plonkers with the dishes.”

Remus grins brightly and nods, and then, he stilts— like in hesitation— before kissing Sirius’s temple, promptly shuffling off and humming Harry an old French lullaby that he knows Hope once sang him when he was a boy.

And Sirius’s heart feels so full, so fragile, And Sirius hates that he didn’t tell him I love you, is afraid that the space of time that they’ll get to say that to one another is rapidly dwindling.

“We’re finishing up all the kinks in the plan,” James says, saddling up besides  Sirius, handing him a sponge and keeping the dishcloth in his own. “You still want to act as secret keeper?”

“Course you daft wanker,” Sirius bristles. “I’d do anything for you lot.”

“I know,” James says unflinchingly.  “You and Moony are the best friends a bloke can ask for.”

And God that hurts like nothing else, so Sirius doesn’t even try to retort in any meaningful sort of way.  “Don’t forget Wormyy.”

James laughs. “Would never dare.”

And then silence drops over them like a heavy quilt threatening to smother them to death. And Sirius scrapes off the grime from the dishes and pretends that the plate isn’t still scratched and battered even once the debris is gone. And he swallows down the lump in his throat when he remembers that Remus is leaving again in a matter of hours.

.-

Remus is still curved around Sirius like a blessing stroked to life  with heavenly colors the morning after he gets back. Sirius wraps his arms around him, squeezes tightly and berries his head into his neck, wanting to feel him, to smell him all over. And as they lie down in that heap in the bed Sirius has always called theirs, but Remus has only ever referred to as Sirius’s, he sobs.

“Don’t go Remus, don’t leave me anymore. Just stay here, stay with me. I love you so much that I’m afraid I’ll crack with it and I know you don’t— that you can’t feel the exact same way— but please, just don’t leave us. Stay here, stay and love me too.”

Remus’s even breaths never falter, and he never flutters his eyes open, but Sirius has known him for nearly half his life, and he knows it like he knows his own name that Remus is awake and simply doesn’t answer him. 

What Sirius doesn’t know is what that means.

.-

They’re sitting on either end of the couch now. 

Sirius is pretending to fill out a crossword but is actually trying to decode a letter they had been able to intercept between McNair and a lower ranking Death Eater about some assignation that was meant to be held in the wee hours of October seventh. But every few minutes his eyes wander to Remus, to how he’s curled up with a book of poetry in one hand and his blanket swathed around him. His fringe is hanging in limp curls and the circles beneath his eyes are only that much more prominent, that much more sickly. And his gaze is large and fragile in a way Sirius has never seen. And he wants to slide the novel out of Remus’s hands and he wants to kiss away his frown, and he wants to lock his fingers through the holes in his green sweater and he wants Remus in every way imaginable, to tell him I love you and I love you and I love you so much its like I’m dying. He wants to kiss the inside of his elbow and the knot of his ankle and beneath his naval too. He wants him and knows that he’ll never stop wanting him, and is sure that this— this love— will prove his Achilles’ Heal, and Remus is Patroclus destined to leave him  first and Sirius is destined to wallow in ruin.

Sirius wants to beg him to stay here, to stay with him, to love him like he knows he does.

But Sirius simply does not— Does not tell him any of that.

They haven’t spoken to one another with words for days now, and it feels pathetic and hopeless— the way they only regard one another with stiff lips and cautious glances in the daylight, but that doesn’t stop them still clutching for one another once the sun dips into the  horizon. Like if they can convince themselves that the sex is still miraculous that they still love each other too. As if their bodies aren’t just vessels, aren’t just sacks of skin and bone. And it feels like they’re both giving up on one another and holding on to each other with equal fervency. And Sirius doesn’t know anything any more.

It’s pathetic and it’s painful and it’s pointless. It’s so obviously over, it’s been over for nearly half a year, but they’ve always been cowards when it came to one another. And Sirius doesn’t think that will ever change.

So he only settles deeper into the couch, and he keeps the Shakespeare in Remus’s grasp, and he moves his free hand to deftly clutch around one of Remus’s cold feet, and he squeezes and Remus freezes, and they both breathe for the first time in far too long. But then Remus pulls away, and Sirius lets go before he can feel the sting of rejection and they go back to pretending to go on.

.-

Remus is gone the next morning for a council with Dumbledore, so Sirius wanders the flat like a ghost with no direction, no idea what’s next.

He decides to tidy up the space, like it matters, like anything is normal. And when he reaches for the empty mug on Remus’s nightstand, he sees that his book of poetry is still open, and he lifts it to glance at the sonnet written their in black and white…

When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor’d youth,

Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.

And Sirius throws it hard against the wall before he can read another word.

.-

Remus is preparing for another mission for reconnaissance, tells Sirius that night over their curry take away. And it feels like the world is dissolving right in front of Sirius’s eyes, like his lungs have forgotten how to breathe during those interludes where Remus leaves without a trace— only starting up again when he returns smelling of blood and fear and the outdoors. And Sirius hates everything so much— Is afraid that he hates Remus most of all some days, even if he’s the one person he can’t fathom existing without. 

.-

The sky breaks open that night and rain pellets down like the bullets from the Muggle films that Remus loved showing him, before the war, and before his disappearing act, and before it felt like a knife was plunged into Sirius’s chest every time he looked at him— and the only worst thing than this would  be if he stopped seeing Remus all together, because he knows it like the innate way he knew how to move his lips against Remus’s on that feted day towards the start of seventh year— that the knife would simply be pulled out and he’d bleed to death bit by bit. 

It hurts like nothing else loving him, but Sirius can’t fathom a world where he does not. Where he doesn’t get to trace the consolation of freckles dusting his high cheekbones, where he doesn’t get to kiss the singular mole at the nape of his neck that’s ordinarily covered up by his thick jumpers. A world where they don’t intwine in the ways that lovers are want to do.

Sirius loves Remus even if he knows it’s fruitless because there’s a war destroying the world and there’s a spy in the order and Remus is the only one who’s brilliant in a reserved way  and cunning when he wants to be and the only one who knows how to properly keep a secret from his friends like it’s a second skin that he wears as effortlessly as a cloak.

And God.

Remus is sitting besides him now, a pinky’s breath away from his perch on the sofa.

There are words that writhe in Sirius’s throat, clacking against his teeth, begging to spill out. He wants to tell Remus he loves him, that he’d forgive him anything. He wants to tell him that Remus can Avada Kedavra him in the cold morning light and Sirius would still only see him bathed in an etherial  glow, but can’t see him doing that to their dearest friends, to Harry who is sacred and should always be protected. He wants to beg him to just speak, to tell Sirius the truth, to tell Sirius he still loves him. Beg Remus to run away with him. To go off to Prague or Cordova or maybe even the states, to say sod it to the whole damn war and just spend their days and nights tangled up with naked limbs and sweaty sheets.

And he thinks he will, thinks that the burning sensation of want within him is too furious to tempt down anymore.

But then the dying sun shimmers through the window, unspools in Remus’s honey curls and twinkles in his butterscotch eyes that were once always dancing with a quiet humor that enthralled Sirius to him like a drifter to a prophet. And it’s not healthy, this vigil he’s always held for him— especially now, especially with his suspicions that James begrudgingly agrees with and Lily fumingly does not— but Sirius’s never been one for self preservation, has never known how to let a scab heal over naturally. He has to poke and prod until it scars, until it becomes a indelible part of him. 

They stay there like that for either a minute or hour more, and when Sirius sees that Remus finally has enough of their staring match, he begins to move away, and it is Sirius— with a quick hand and desperate need— who presses him back down to the cushions with a hot mouth and wandering palms and he pretends that all he feels at the sound of the whimper Remus lets out is pleasure and not pain from his heart chipping that much more.

And this is vacant of words too. This is just instincts and moans and intuition of knowing another’s body and pleasure points and wants  for half a decade now.

They make it to the bedroom and Sirius refuses to be gentle, refuses to deprive himself of anything, and Remus is matching him with every thrust.

When they kiss its wet, and Sirius knows its the tears leaking out their eyes, and he knows in that unspoken, understanding way that this is the final time. That when Remus leaves later tonight, he’ll stay gone, that he won’t ever sleep besides Sirius again, won’t ever hold him like this. Sirius will never get to see him in the splendid, golden hours of morning and never get to run away with him after all. So Sirius blunders Remus’s mouth with his hard tongue, and he relishes the way Remus bites on his bottom lip until he tastes blood. And he throws them onto the mattress and they wrestle together in the sheets, scratching and pulling and canting obscenely. And when Sirius kisses his protruding collar bone it’s I’m saying I love you, and when Remus sucks on the hinge of Sirius’s jaw it feels like an apology. And when Sirius squeezes the scar on his inner thigh where the very first bite mark lies mangled and knotted in his skin, he’s begging him one last time to stay, and when Remus tells him in a voice that’s tenuous and tender and filled with sorrow, “Fuck me” the syllables slot together in a different formation that sound like “I’m already gone.”

They’re having parallel conversations and they’re not speaking and it’s the end.

So Sirius bucks against him and Remus wraps his long, long legs around Sirius’s narrow waste, and Sirius codes his fingers with the lube they’ve always kept in his nightstand and is fast when he plunges them into that ring of tight, tight muscle, when he stretches and scissors  and slicks him open, spurred on  by Remus’s gargled words begging him. “Now Sirius, now, now. Do it now.”

So he doesn’t bother with any of the rest of it. He barely sheaths himself half way before he has to stop, has to catch his breath, to re acclimate himself to the pressure. But then he hears Remus whimper and he surges forwards and doesn’t let up this vicious rhythm that he hears pulsing in his fucking ears. And it’s graceless and it’s hard and it’s a bit rushed but it’s what they need. And when Remus tosses back his head— features twisted up with emotion— Sirius berries his face into his neck and he feels his tears intermingling with Remus’s own and Remus’s loud pleads for him to go rougher, to stay longer, to keep fucking into him. So Sirius listens because there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Remus— even now— and he focusses on his hand circling Remus’s length, on pumping it with a tight fist and a bit of a twist, the way Remus has always preferred it. And he hears Remus croaking out an “I’ve always loved you,” and even if those words are too late, too little, too hollow, they still work to bring him off the edge, and Sirius thrusts deeper only twice more before he’s releasing himself into him— into the love of his life— quickly followed by Remus’s own cock whimpering out it’s own climax. And it feels like the ending to the story Sirius never wanted to stop being told.

But before he can pull out his overstimulated prick from Remus’s arse, Remus just squeezes him with his legs,  eyes fluttering shut while he rests his arms around Sirius’s broad shoulders. “Just stay.” he asks. “Stay until I have to go.”

And the sound of him— so desperate so pliant so tired— breaks the rest of his heart so much so that Sirius feels the remains splintering in his lungs and shattering open his ribcage with a sob he never lets out until Remus is gone.

“Anything you want Moony. Whatever you ask.”

And Remus’s lips twitch up into the best approximation of a smile that he’s given Sirius in far too long, and Sirius rests his head against Remus’s chest, and kisses the freckles that he was so elated to find their the first time they had done this. And he takes in deep the scent of  cinnamon and citrus and sunlight that’s always clung to his skin, and he thinks that this is the first time they’re letting each other feel hopeless together.

.-

The cold has turned over to a blizzard, and it seizes the flat once more the next morning.

Remus is gone and Sirius is left alone and nothing is right.

So he grabs the floo powder from the beautiful, ceramic container Hope had gifted Remus when he first moved into the flat the summer after their seventh year, and he finds James waiting for him on the other side, and he’s never taken in just how exhausted and terrified and sad his brother is looking these days.

“Wotcher, Pads.” James says, sipping on his tea with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and nothing is alright, nothing will probably ever be alright again.

“Hiya, Prongsie,” Sirius says, hearing just how threadbare his voice sounds in the quiet of the Potter cottage.

“So just a morning call? Or would you like me to fetch Haz for you?”

Sirius swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to speak.  “James I love you more than life, love Lily and the sprog just as much— But—“ he chokes up right then before ramming forwards. “I can’t— I can’t be the—“

“I know,” James interrupts, a thin, forgiving smile on his face. “Pete’ll have to do, but I’d still rather it you.”

“I’m so sorry James.”

“Me too.”

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

[bluemusickid]

𝓕𝓮𝓶𝓶𝓮 𝓕𝓪𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓮

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Conwoman!Reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, unprotected sex (do not recommend, pls be wise) Ransom's hurt ego/pride.

A/N: I love Ransom so much. I'd probably let him get away with murder, which is probs wrong since I'm a law student. Anyways, hope you enjoy!! Also the writing is crap and not at all intelligent, I just needed to let off some Ransom steam. ^_^

I post my stuff here and on AO3, nowhere else. 

You took a sip of your martini. Perfect. The one thing about these high end resto-bars was that they never went wrong with their martinis. Always the right balance of sweet and intoxication. If only you could always afford these places.

You didn't mean to sound bitter, oh no no. Life has worked out better than expected. Your way of life got lonely sometimes, but survival of the fittest was the way of life, right?

In your experience, doing what you did, you realised that men were very literal creatures, always thinking linearly. Most of them lacked any depth to their thoughts, their way of life. The rich ones? They were as deep as an above ground pool. Throwing money every chance they got, flaunting their first row seats at the operas, trips to their villas in the French Riviera and what not. Their wives had no idea, always doting after their perfect husbands, with their Himalayan Birkins.

Imagine the surprise these men felt when you took what was most precious to them; no, not their families or children, but their money. A woman, no less. A woman who they had considered a damsel, in need of pearls and diamonds, and their strong strapping arms and care. And they didn’t dare report this. How could they? As far as their wives were concerned, you didn’t exist. You snorted. Good riddance, and all that. 

That’s why you chose him.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

He wasn’t a different one, that's for sure. A pretty boy with arrogance dripping off of him like he had just stepped out of a swanky prep school. He screamed rich kid, with his perfectly coiffed hair, right to his buffed fingernails. 

This should be easy, you thought to yourself.

You walked passed him, swaying your hips ever so slightly. Your look for tonight was carefully calculated: bait for a good, prize catch. There were many men there, sure, ordering crates of champagne for their "business associates".

But this one was different. He didn't pay heed to you as you made your way towards him, placing yourself next to him at the bar, nor did he check you out like most men did. He simply took a swig of his drink, focusing hard at something in his phone. Weird. You chose to give him the benefit of the doubt, calculating his next move. Surely, he'd ask to buy you a drink. He was just playing hard to get, you were sure. His next move stunned you, however.

He got up, slid a 100 dollar bill on the counter, and walked away, his jacket slung over his arm. You blinked, not really understanding what had happened. You ordered a red wine, quite perplexed. This was perhaps the first time something like this had happened, and it quite perturbed you.

You didn’t have time to dwell on your thoughts, however, as the bartender slid a coaster towards you.

“Mr. Drysdale sends his regards.”

You frowned. Drysdale? The famous real estate mogul? Man oh man, this was gonna be good.

You smirked as you read the scribbles on the coaster. To think you thought that he was gonna be different. Oh well. Room 537 it is, then.

You made your way to the room, checking your makeup and spritzing on a bit of perfume on the way. Standing outside his room, you knocked three times before the door swung open to reveal a treat.

Mr. Drysdale, sans shirt and his tight dress pants. Yum.

You composed yourself and entered the room, remembering the fact that you had a job to complete.

“So, that’s your game?” you asked, setting yourself down on the settee by the minibar.

“I don’t play games.” he said, pouring an amber liquid from the crystal cut decanter.

“Then why bother giving me your room number?” you drawled, accepting the glass.

“I know you wanted me to chase you. Knew it from the moment you entered. But that’s not how I work. I get what I want, and I wanted you.”

“A real charmer, aren’t ya?” you said dryly.

“Let’s cut to the chase sweetheart. You want me, I want you. Simple.”

“How can you be so sure that I want you? I could have just come up to confront you or something.”

“Yea, right. That dress says differently. You know what you want and you were going after it. I just skipped a few steps along the way. You’re welcome.” he smirked, raising his perfectly shaped eyebrow at you.

“So now that your plan has come into play, what do you suggest we do?”

He grinned and took a swig of his drink. Placing his drink on the counter, he took your hand in his and pulled you up, pulling you tightly to him.

Leaning towards your ear, he rasped, “I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk.”

With that, Ransom didn’t waste any more time. He picked you up bridal style and tossed you on the bed, without any preamble.

“Last chance to leave, kitten. Whaddaya want?”

You gulped. You wanted this, you needed this. You didn’t bother answering him as you pulled him down by his tie, lips melding against his as you held onto his collar. He was surprised by your sudden attack, but reciprocated equally, if not with more ferocity.

Lowering you onto the bed, he yanked the thin straps of your dress down, sucking at your pulse point, his hands caressing your body. You moaned, feeling his actions go straight to your core, lighting you up from within. He pulled the dress down with urgency, freeing your breasts from their confines.

Taking a hardened nub in his mouth, he swirled it around his tongue as his hands wandered lower. He was about to pull your dress up, when you stopped his wandering hands, pushing him off you, as he looked at you, bewildered.

“What the-!” he began but you quickly silenced him with your lips, your hands working double time to undo the buttons of his shirt. You deepened the kiss pulling him by his tie, while grinding against him ever so slightly. He broke away from the kiss, panting; his eyes wide, an unknown emotion swirling in the midst.

“Oh sweetheart.”he growled, “You’ve awoken the beast, now.”

With that, you were lost in a frenzy of movements. He nearly ripped your dress off, throwing you on the bed, caging you underneath his body. Lowering himself, he nipped and sucked at your neck, your collarbone, your breastbone, his voracious tongue leaving fire in its wake. You gasped, fingers making their way to his messy locks. What had started off as a game, a new target, was quickly becoming something more, and that thought scared you.

Eyes on the prize, sugar. Let him lead.

His tongue was drawing circles on the tattoo at your abdomen, while his fingers were at your core, his thumb lightly nudging your clit. Jesus. Your hips moved of their own accord, tugging at his hair in silent plea. Looking up, he saw your need and whispered lasciviously, 

“I’m gonna make you scream till all the other floors know my name, sweetheart. Just need to get you nice and ready for me. Wouldn’t want to break my promise now, would I?”

With that, you felt your entire focus shift to your core, as his intrepid tongue drew patterns on your clit, his digits moving within your wet channel. You groaned, tugging on his hair, bringing him closer to where you wanted him. You felt your walls tightening, the coil in your belly ready to unwind. He withdrew his fingers, moving up swiftly, gazing into your indignant eyes.

“Only time you’re gonna come is on my cock, sweetheart.”

With that, he thrust himself inside you, your walls engulfing him. Luckily for you, Ransom didn’t do sweet, slow thrusts. He set up an unrelenting pace, spearing into you, his shaft reaching places which no man had been able to reach before. You groaned, closing your eyes, your head jerking to the side, unable to handle all the sensations he was invoking.

Grasping your chin, he turned you to face him. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. I wanna see how good you feel while I’m taking you apart.” he rasped.

Something in his voice made you break; making you almost feral. You pushed on his shoulders, catching him off-guard for a minute, enough to push him on his back and straddle him.

Leaning down and catching his lips for a kiss, you whispered, “You should have the best view for a show like that, then.”

You sunk down on him, moaning loudly as you engulfed him to the hilt. Holding onto his hands for support, you began riding him for all your worth. Ransom watched on with awe, his eyes mesmerised by the sight of you; your eyes closed, mouth slack with arousal and your breasts bouncing with each bob. 

You were quickly reaching your peak and Ransom could feel that too. He planted his feet down on the mattress, thrusting upward, meeting you thrust for thrust. Your thighs started quivering, an intense pressure building up with each thrust.

“Come on, come for me, kitten.” muttered Ransom, through gritted teeth.

You threw your head back, screaming as you reached your peak, raking your fingernails across Ransom’s chest. As your walls clenched around him tightly,  Ransom grasped your waist, holding onto you as he thrust upwards, chasing his end. 

Leaning down, you took one of his buds into your mouth, swirling your tongue around as you met his eyes.

“Come for me, tiger.” you said huskily, tugging on his lower lip.

Ransom grunted and cussed loudly as he poured himself into you, his grip on your waist tight as he held you in place till he filled you with every last drop. Rolling off him, you watched him catch his breath, slowly drifting off, his arm encircling your waist as he went deeper into slumber.

After a few minutes, you checked on him, just to be sure. He was out cold.

You smirked. Alright. 

Time to start Part 2 of the Plan.

--------

Ransom woke up, feeling satisfied and smug. Yet another conquest down. He didn’t understand why women played these games women loved to play with him. Smirking, he looked over to look at you, but was surprised to see your side empty.

He frowned. Getting up, he checked the bathroom. Empty. 

She left without even giving her name. Ahh, well, not the first time this had happened. Moving to check his phone, he noticed his wallet open, with all the cash missing.

Oh, so that’s why she left. Wow, what a surprise, he thought. Good thing she didn’t leave a name, for she was no more than a common whore, he thought, puling on his pants. 

He was sorely mistaken though.

As he walked past the attached common area, he saw something which made him stop in his tracks.

The safe was wide open, with all of its contents gone. Every last thing.

He stormed into the area, his anger surging with each passing second. He couldn’t give less of a fuck about the goddamn valuables that were missing. But she had taken something which had taken him 3 fucking years to get. 

She had stolen the documents; not just any documents, but the very ones which would have bought the Langleys’ silence and their company, making Ransom a very, very rich man. All gone, because of a quick fuck.

The bitch had stolen his ace of spades. And he would make sure that she would suffer. 

Ransom would make her pay. By hook or by crook.

-----

A/N: Eeeeek, I was too nervous to put this out ughhhhh. Also, I have a taglist now, if you’re into that sort of thing. 😅  (link is also available in my bio)

Tags: @donutloverxo​ @ozarkthedog​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @readermia​