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prael · 8 months ago

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REPLACED

Newjeans Minji x male reader smut

Quickfire challenge 1. Thank you @midnightdancingsol

The prompt: "You know why this happened, @capslocked – yes, you."

Masterlist word count: 3,911 Kofi(donations/commissions)

It's all a matter of perspective. From one side of the room, the world is calm.

And the other? Well, that's Minji.

“Want to know the one thing worse than outright rejection?”

Minji has barely walked in the door and she is already shouting off in riddles. She's standing in the doorway, her hair wet from the rain and a little bit tangled just above her shoulders. The water on her overshirt is so deeply sodden into the fabric that it weighs on her. It sticks to her skin that's so clearly visible underneath the LED spotlight above her and her face is twisted in this way of pure irritation that you've rarely seen. It's almost comical.

Or it would be if she wasn't throwing her bag on the floor with an almighty thud and a little yelp from the floorboards below.

“Minji?” is all you say in some hushed tone as you sit on the armchair by the window, hot drink in one hand and your phone in the other as the world passes by in the distance, drowned in downpour.

You look up to watch Minji as she shouts, "How about getting a part, only for it to be taken away? Being promised the world and then having it rug-pulled so you fall flat on your fucking face?!"

Now, Minji never swears in anger. And never means never (again, in anger, specifically). So, it's pretty much a sign of the end of the world when she does. She's kicking off her shoes now, throwing them in the direction of the door and they clatter on the floor like the battering of a drum.

"I—uh."

"You—uh," she mocks, taking a step forward.

"Woah. Minji. What happened?" You ask, setting down the phone on the sill of the window. Minji's stomping her way toward you. Her eyes are wide and filled with something you haven't quite seen before.

"This complete—"there are some sounds from her mouth but they don’t quite resemble words"—shit for a fuck brain!" See, Minji never swears like this, so she's so bad at it that it's laughable.

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh, it's a great idea; an amazing concept. I'll write you a fantastic character and it will be romantic and hot and everyone will love it," Minji rants in some sarcastic tone while peeling her shirt off her skin and piling it onto the hardwood floor. She stands in only her sports bra with her arms raised and her voice in high pitch, mocking. "Except, you're not good enough. Oh, no. I have to give the part to this other girl. She's prettier and nicer and just better than you!"

"Ouch." You say, watching as she flops onto the couch opposite. The coffee table in between you is a lousy line of defence. Her socks have little splatters of rainwater on them and not too far above that, her skirt sits just above the knee.

"Oh, shut up," she replies.

"Minji." You throw her a look that says 'Stop taking it out on me', which she understands, but it only gets her to fold her arms dramatically with a little huff and a puff from her mouth, followed by a pout. Then you ask her, "What part even was this? TV?"

"Not exactly."

"An ad? Video game? Movie?"

"Fanfiction."

Fanfiction.

"What?" You blink, to which Minji sighs and rolls her eyes, head tilted to the ground.

"Fanfiction."

"A fanfiction?" you question again. It’s not like you misheard, it’s just an utterly strange thing for her to be so pent up on.

"Don't say it like that." She snaps, leaning back into the chair and crossing her legs so one of her little rain-splattered socks is suspended in the air, and she twists and turns her foot impatiently.

"Just trying to figure out why you're so annoyed about fanfiction."

"Because the guy's a complete moron."

"Probably," you say, drawing your mug of coffee close to your lips. You blow on the surface and Minji is silent. You wait, the steam is coming off the top and through it, you watch her as she thinks as her eyebrows furrow together. Minji shifts in her seat again, the annoyance making her chronically uncomfortable.

"He replaced me!" She shouts, slamming her hands into the arms of the chair and then Minji stands. She takes a few steps and then stops and turns to face you, her eyebrows furrowed and her arms folded, her legs are slightly apart and she's tapping her foot.

"Does he think I'm not pretty enough? Not funny enough? Not sexy enough? Does he think that I wouldn't be good enough at what he wants me to do, hm? So he doesn't want to write me sucking a dick? Well, screw him. Fucking Capslocked."

You're not sure what's going on here, so you're just sitting back and watching her, coffee nestled in your hand and feet propped on the table. She's standing still, waiting for you to say something, anything, and when you don't, she begins to pace.

"Why would he change his mind and just decide that someone else is better than me? What, does he not like my body? Do you not like my body?"

"Your body is fantastic." You say, taking another sip of the coffee.

"Yeah, and don't you forget it." She snaps, stopping again and placing her hands on her hips, either side of that exposed waistline.

"The fuck kind of name is 'Capslocked' anyway?" You mutter, mostly to yourself. Minji doesn't reply, but you see her take a step closer to you.

"And," Minji begins and then pauses, you look up at her and she's just staring. Her cheeks are flushed and her breathing is a little laboured, her chest rising and falling with each breath. There's a pause. Her tongue runs over her lips and you can see her thinking—gears grinding inside her head.

"And?" you ask.

"Shut up," she hisses, kicking your leg so your feet fall from the coffee table and you almost spill the drink down yourself. She places her hands on your knees, bending over to you.

"Minji, my drink—"

"Shh." her hair falls across her face, a black silk drape half-covering the expression beneath. There's an anger under there, something she's trying to push back down, but it's not quite working. Her nails dig into your thighs as she pushes them apart, and the steam rises again above the surface of the liquid in your cup. Minji is too busy running her hand along your crotch.

"What're you—"

"Replaced me," she repeats to herself, a little huff leaving her as she slips down onto her knees. "Fucking replaced me."

"Minji, I'm sure he—"

"I don't care. Shut up. I'm not talking to you." Her hands are shaking, whether from frustration or some other confused feeling that burns under her skin. Probably a mix of many feelings. They're fumbling at the button of your jeans and she's tugging down the zip, her teeth bared. You're watching, and it's as if she is possessed.

Your heartbeat is thunderous in your ears, the heat is rising and Minji is pushing her hair out of her face.

"I'm gonna do this so well."

"You always do."

"I said stop talking. So. Stop. Talking," she sounds out each word with authority, her eyes wide and angry. Minji is pushing down the fabric and reaching into the opening in your underwear. She wraps her fingers around you, the cool touch of her skin making you jerk.

"Minji, my drink." Your hand trembles slightly as you try not to spill it. Minji doesn't listen. She pulls you free. A low hum leaves her throat as she licks her lips and leans forward. Her warm breath is ghosting over you, her eyes are closed and there's a little smirk on her lips. Your cock is only halfway to hard and her hand is wantingly trying to coax you into arousal.

It doesn't take much. It never does with Minji.

"Fuck," you groan, the sound of your voice making her look up.

"Don't," she replies, a warning in her eyes. Minji's hand is moving up and down and it's not with that same gentle caress she usually has.

"God, Minji."

"Quiet." She stops, her lips are pouted and her eyes are locked onto you. Her hand is around you, the pressure is gentle, but it's enough to hold you. You're frozen there a moment, her eyes are staring right through you and you're not entirely sure what's going to happen. "Don't say a word, and don’t spill your drink,” she tells you, her free hand rubbing your thigh.

"Minji—"

"Don't." She whispers, her tongue licking over the surface of her lip. Her mouth opens, and she's leaning in. The warmth of her breath is making the muscles of your abdomen twitch and your head spin. Her tongue is the first thing that touches you. She's holding you still, and the head of your cock is resting on her bottom lip, and the feeling of the smooth surface makes you want to thrust forward, but Minji's hand holds you firm.

You bite your lip as Minji's tongue swirls around the tip. It's light and soft and sends electricity through your nerves. You groan ever so slightly and she looks up at you, her eyes narrowed. Your knuckles whiten as you grip the mug, her hair tickling the inside of your thigh as she lowers her head.

Her tongue runs along the underside and pastes your cock with a wetness. The hand around you moves down, and she takes you in. Her mouth is heaven, and her lips the closing gates. You let out a deep sigh, your chest heaving, and Minji's free hand slides up the inside of your shirt, her nails grazing your skin.

Her mouth moves, her lips tightening, and the movement is slow. It's torturous and the sensation of her tongue swirling around the underside of your cock sends you spiralling. Minji knows this, and she's looking up at you. You want to touch her; you want to tangle your fingers into her hair; you want to grab her and pull her against you.

But her eyes speak many words left unspoken. They command your stillness, your silence, and your complete submission.

Minji is working her mouth over you, and her hand is stroking you, up and down and up and down. She's bobbing her head and humming slightly. The melody is almost hypnotic but sounds as if being played by force rather than elegance.

Her scratches are harder than ever and it feels like fire across your chest. Your toes are curling and your head is thrown back. The heat from the mug permeates into your skin as you grip it tighter.

"Ah, Minji." You moan. Minji stops, looking up at you. There's a drop of spit on her lip, and her face is flushed. You're not sure what to do. She's glaring, and she's holding you. Your heart is beating like the hammer of a drum and just above it, her nails grip, threatening to pierce through flesh.

"I said quiet." Words laced with venom. She digs somehow deeper into your chest as she pushes herself to her feet. "Now, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you until I scream and you're going to stay quiet."

You're not quite sure what's happening. This is a Minji you have seldom seen before, but it's all happening so fast. She's pulling up her skirt, sliding down her panties, and she's kicking them off so the fabric lands somewhere to the side. She's stepping forward and her knees are touching the armrests. Closer and closer she comes with her eyes fixed on you.

Your mouth is dry, and her fingers are on your jaw. Her eyes bore holes in your own and she's lowering herself. In a moment of weakness, you throw a glance at your hand, still holding the half-full cup. There's an angry sound from Minji and she snarls, "Focus on me."

Minji swipes her arm at the cup, sending it flying. You watch the arc of the cup and the contents spill across the floor. She's not waiting, she's not looking. There’s not an ounce of concern within her for something so trivial.

You feel the soft wetness of her sex on your tip, she's rubbing herself on the head, the moisture spreading along the underside and Minji's face is screwed up in pleasure and her legs are shaking. She's panting and moaning and she's trying to slide down.

"Minji, are you—"

She thrusts her hand over your mouth with a growl and wild eyes. Her nails are biting into your cheek. "Not. Another. Word."

Minji's other hand is on your shoulder; using it for balance as she tries to move herself. She's lowering herself down and the head of your cock slips into her.

She's so warm. So unbelievably wet. Minji gasps and her back arches and her breasts heave beneath her slightly see-through sports top as she breathes. Her nails dig deeper into your flesh, her lips are parted and her head is thrown back, leaving her throat exposed—a pale expanse of milky perfection.

"Oh, God," she moans, the sound reverberating around the room as she slowly sinks and the walls of her cunt are tight on you. So tight. She trembles as she speaks. "You can't replace this."

Her skirt is around her waist, the material covering the sight of where your bodies meet. But you can feel it; you can feel every little movement she makes.

"I'm so wet."

So fucking wet.

"You're so hard."

Hard. So hard.

"How could anyone replace this?"

How? How could you possibly replace this?

Her cries are shrill, and the heat of her is all around you. It's the only thing you can focus on—her. You try to answer, but your words never make it past the hand on your mouth. She's panting, and her hair is wild, her eyes wide and her mouth open. And she's just riding until she can't no more. Until her muscles grow weak and until her cum leaks between her legs.

"This is what they want, isn't it? They want to fuck me. Riding them. On my knees. They want me bent over the table, or against the wall, or—or—fuck!" Her words are sharp and punctuated with gasps and moans. "Want me to cum—" she trails off into something close to a scream, her body convulsing. Her back is arched and her hips are pressed down onto yours.

She's grinding into you, and you can feel her clench around your cock. Your head is swimming, and your hips are jerking. You can't breathe. Her fingers are loosening their hold on your mouth, but you dare not speak. You're not even sure if you can.

Minji's hand is moving, sliding down your cheek, around your jaw and then gripping on your neck. She admires the red claw marks on your cheek.

"That's right," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "They want to fuck me, don't they? They all read and write those filthy little stories and keep dreaming of the impossible. But that fucker won’t write it for them."

You can only sit and take in the way that she is glowing with the sweat, the light catching her skin and highlighting the contours of her face and her collarbone. Her small top clings to her sticky chest and leaves so very little to the imagination. Through it you see the smooth curve of her breasts, the stiffness of her nipples and below it the ridges of her toned abdomen that flexes with her slowing grind.

She's climbing off you now and pulling you up from your seat. Her arms are around your neck and her eyes are on yours. You're staring into the depth of her eyes, the black pupils large and the irises a warm, golden honey.

"You're not going to replace me, are you?"

"Never."

"Good."

She leans back a little and pulls your shirt up until it's around your neck. She pulls it to your mouth, feeding the fabric into it before tying some sort of makeshift knot behind your head. "Now. Not another word." Minji pulls off her own top, peeling it away from her sweat-soaked skin.

You watch as she takes a few steps back; her cotton-hugged feet on the ground, her skirt falling back over those long legs and her hands on the hem of the fabric. She's smiling at you, a wide and wicked grin. You watch her and she's watching you. She's pulling it up now and her hands are underneath it. She turns to the window. "Now you're going to pin me against this window and do me, aren't you? Nod if you are."

You nod.

Minji giggles, throwing a look over her shoulder. "I'm the best, aren't I?"

Minji doesn't wait for you to nod again. She turns away and looks out the window—the city is alive. The rain is falling; the lights are flickering and cars are passing by far below. Minji is leaning her forehead against the glass, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly agape. Her hair is wild and messy and the light is illuminating her.

You're stepping towards her, one hand on her back, the other sliding over the curve of her ass. You can see her reflection, the smile on her lips. Her hands are on the glass, palms flat, and you're sliding a hand between her legs and over her wet, sensitive skin.

She's shivering and letting out little gasps as your fingers dance along the flesh and your fingertips tease her folds. She's whimpering, and the sound makes your cock twitch.

"Fuck me," Minji whispers, her nails scratching the window. You can't deny a woman so insatiable.

You adjust your jaw; it's so uncomfortably pinned open and you're unable to say a word. You can't tell her just how nice that ass is and how the view inside the window makes a mockery of the one outside. You can't tell her how her hair is so beautiful, or how her eyes are the prettiest you've ever seen. You can't tell her anything.

But you can tell her in another way—through touch. The thought sends a chill down your spine and your teeth sink into the material of the shirt. Minji's whining and you're slipping your fingers between her lips. She's hot, and the heat is dripping from her. It's on your fingers and it's soaking into your palm.

Minji is moving her hips, trying to find purchase on your fingers, the tip of one brushing her clit. She gasps and throws her head back. You're sliding a finger inside her, the movement easy and Minji is bucking her hips, her body trying to pull you further and deeper.

"Fuck me like I'm the only woman in the world. Like you'll die if you don't fuck me. Like there's no one else in the world who can make you feel like I do."

You're pushing her against the window, the foggy condensation from her breath and the heat of her body mar the surface. Minji is laughing—the hot and breathy kind of laugh—as you press her into the glass.

"That's it. Come on. Fuck me now,” she orders and just like that, you're doing it. She's moaning and her back arches. You're inside her and the tightness is enough to make you come undone. You're pressing her harder and harder against the window.

"That's it. Oh, yes. Harder. That's what they all want."

You're slamming into her, and she's taking it. You're not holding back. Minji is moaning and her fingers are curling, nails raking. Her voice is echoing in the room and the sound makes your skin prickle.

"They all want me like this. Bent over and begging. Oh, fuck yes."

"They can't have you." You growl through the shirt, your teeth tearing into the fabric.

"No." Minji screams, "They can't have me. They can't touch me. He can't touch me. Won't even write about me. If only he could see me now. I bet he would change his mind. Wouldn't you?"

You fuck her until the muscles in the back of your legs stiffen. You fuck her until she's screaming. You fuck her until the glass is a mess of fingerprints, sweat, and spit. Until the golden skin of her back glows with moisture.

You fuck her until your vision starts to fade and your heartbeat is so loud in your ears that it’s unbearable. You fuck her until you can't anymore.

And she's still going, her screams echoing and her body writhing against yours, and it's all too much. You need to release, and it needs to be inside Minji.

You're coming undone and your hips jerk and stutter and Minji's body is convulsing. Your cum is spilling into her, and she's cumming again and she's screaming, the sound so shrill that it hurts. You're groaning and she's shaking, the walls of her cunt clenching and drawing your orgasm out until you can't think and you can't breathe and everything is both too much and not enough.

Leaning forward so her back is flush with your chest, and she is truly pinned. Your breathing is hard, and hers is heavy and the two of you stay there for a while, frozen in ecstasy. The room absorbs the sound of your combined pants, the rain and the distant hum of the city.

Minji is the first to move, twisting herself free from the weight of your body against her. Your cock slides out. The feeling of the cool air and the absence of her body sends a shiver through you. You stumble, the shirt falling from your mouth and your vision is blurry.

Minji is laughing and you're looking at her as she is plucking away the strands of hair which stick to her face. And when she finishes, Minji steps forward and slaps you. "I told you not to make a mess."

"Minji, you made the mess."

"Shut up."

"But I—"

She grabs you by the neck and kisses you. Her lips are hot and the kiss is hungry and messy. Her tongue is in your mouth and her hands are all over you. The kiss is hard and deep and it's leaving you breathless.

She's pulling you to the ground, her legs wrapping around you and your hand is on her thigh. The heat of her core is against you and her nails are digging into your back. She's biting your lip, and she's pushing you over onto your back.

She's straddling you. Her hands are on your chest, her palms pressing down.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" you pant. Minji's looking at you with a disregard for your words.

Your cock is so tender under her rough motions, and there’s no stopping your whimper. Minji is smiling, and the sight is so sweet. "Are you complaining?"

"No," you manage to say, as a shiver runs down your spine as she lowers herself and brushes her lips against your ear.

Her tongue is running over your earlobe and she's nibbling at the sensitive flesh. Her hands are on your shoulders and her legs are squeezing your waist. "Good boy. We're not done. Not even close."

#minji smut #kpop smut #male reader #kpop fanfic #m reader #newjeans smut #kpop fanfiction #minji x reader #smut

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melioristicbeast · 27 days ago

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“Sorry,” Stiles said, unsure of why he was apologizing. “I’ve never heard that song before. Did you write it?” Derek looked uncomfortable, maybe a touch embarrassed, which was answer enough. “It’s good. I like it. It’s calming.” The small smile he got in response melted his heart a little bit. Fucking hell, he was so gone for this asshole. Stiles didn’t know what he was going to do. He wished he’d never realized how much he loved him. Wished he’d just continued to think they were best friends and nothing more. It was slowly going to kill him being so close, and yet so fucking far. Clearing his throat, he brought the book back up to continue reading, muttering that Derek should keep playing. He did, his fingers plucking gently at the strings, filling the loft with soft music. It really was calming, and soothing. Stiles really liked it. He liked it even more when he realized Derek could honestly express himself with the guitar. It still wasn’t a voice, but it was something, at least.

Actions Speak Louder than Words (ch18) by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

This fic is what spurred me to start doing sterek fanart back in the beginning of december - magic!stiles, cursed!derek, stiles/jackson terrifying everyone else as friends - an incredible 430K story with a completely endearing slow-burn and slowly unfolding exploration of the characters and their relationship, made complete with the perfect bow of cursed-mute-Derek because 'Derek's eyebrows have a language of their own but only Stiles is fluent' is my favorite and this author does it SO well. And gives Derek a guitar. Derek plays a guitar!!

Ella, consider this my loveletter to your works - they all, this one in particular, buoyed me through a tough time in my life and brought me back to a love of drawing that I haven't had in years and a fandom that has been so generous in their support of my silly art. Thank you for sharing your works!

And a huge thank you to everyone's support so far - the sweet comments in replies, the unhinged all-caps tags, yes-and'ing my silly ideas and headcanons, i'm just over here kicking my feet and giggling and definitely not getting teary-eyed over it no siree no lacrimal action happening here

#Teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek fanart #fanart of fanfiction #isthatbloodonhisshirt #Actions speak louder than words #my art #but also #mel blabs #and my too much gene is showing but lbr at this point it's more of a too much genome #Except when it comes to drawing a guitar apparently #strings? having it look like it's tuned??#shh #i had to draw a line somewhere and it was drawn somewhere after the 9th redraw of stiles' face and 4th of derek's LOL

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teamdarkdaily · 4 months ago

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DAILIES FOR PALESTINE (11/4 - 11/10)

It's time for this month's fundraiser week! All funds raised will go towards Rawan's fundraiser for helping her family evacuate. If you aren't able to donate, please share this post to garner more attention towards the fund.

The starting price for these is $5 but anything more is forever appreciated. All images seen above were drawn for donations from this event! I will take all funds raised at the end of the week and donate it to the fundraiser.

Order through my kofi listing here and read the information below!

My rules and general information for this:

Requests can ONLY be of Shadow, Rouge, Omega, Matilda, or Shadow's chao (Cherry). If you request a character I didn't list, I will just choose a Team Dark member at random and still put your donation in the fund.

I will not be drawing any ships between the Team Dark members or them with anyone outside of Team Dark (see rule 1)

Absolutely no NSFW, no hate messages or bigotry, none of that

The quality of the dailies range on this blog depending on how I'm feeling/how much time I have in a day. This will most likely be the same for these requests. However, if you donate an amount much larger than the base $5 I'll do my best to give it the quality it deserves as thanks.

I will be posting a screenshot of the amount I make from these requests at the end of the week along with the receipt of me submitting to the gofundme so everyone can be assured that their money is going to help these causes. Any names/info in these screenshots will be fully blocked out with only the money amount showing for safety reasons

There will be 7 slots available each week. If I don't have a slot filled for a day, I'll just do what I normally do for dailies and come up with an idea myself. Each slot that doesn't get filled, I'll remove that slot for the week in the kofi availability.

I'll include a link to the fundraiser we're raising for in each post that's a request. If you aren't able to get a slot or can't afford to donate, sharing the posts also helps so much for visibility of the fundraiser to others who might be able to donate.

#tdd fundraiser #sonic the hedgehog #sth #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e123 omega #team dark

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adieutristana · 2 months ago

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Hiiii, i have request for a fem r x jinx, so like r and jinx have known each other alll their lives, maybe r is like sevika's niece or smth close, then when jinx gets adopted by silco, they ontinue to grow close until they become lovers, now you can do whatever you want here, just req that somehow r gets seperated with jinx and joins ekko and the professor breaking into the lab, which led to r joining then in the alt uni, the same time as ekko or maybe earlier, then au!jinx(she's alr r's gf in that au) suddenly gets worried or jealous cause ekko and r suddenly without any reason becomes close and starts spending time together, you can end it however u want, just give us a happy ending!! That's it rllyyy, thank you for reading this req, and it's ok if you can't do it, no pressureee

of course!! thank you for the request <3

this one is pretty long, sorry ^^; i just wanted to include everything and do your request justice

summary; sevika’s niece, jinx’s childhood best friend becomes jinx’s girlfriend. they get separated in the alternate universe, and powder grows jealous.

characters included; jinx, powder (act iii au), sevika (familial), ekko (platonic)

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, s2 spoilers, idk if sevika has living relatives but we're making up a sibling for the story, mentions of death, arguing, mentions of drinking and smoking, jealous powder

men dni.

sevika has never been great with children. the day you were born, your small form writhing in her brother's arms as you cried, and cried, and cried, sevika didn't know what to do with herself. this was family. sevika was loyal to family. but she just... couldn't deal.

yet as you grew older, she grew used to it. whenever you went to auntie sev's, she pulled out whatever non-alcoholic drink she had for you, pouring it in a stained glass and sitting down opposite you at her table. she'd teach you to play card games- ones appropriate for children, of course. war, go fish, the like. nothing like the blackjack or poker that gave her a thrill under dim lights, but it was honestly... nice, to have this company. even if you were small and still struggling to speak for yourself.

she found herself growing comfortable with you. she had always loved you, had always cared for you. you were her niece. but the fact that you were still learning to navigate the world, learning how to be a person, scared sevika- especially considering the state of the undercity. how was a child supposed to thrive in such a troubled city? how were sevika and her brother supposed to protect you from the harm that inevitably comes everyone's way?

and then, you found a friend. a little girl, no more than a few months older than you, with turquoise hair and warm, sky-blue eyes. powder was her name. a playful, friendly girl who would play tag with you in the alleyways of the lanes. she showed you all of her contraptions, little bombs with scribbled drawings of various animals for faces. handmade. your young mind found this incredible. how could one girl have this much talent?

each day, after your lessons, you'd go to a specific place close to a boarded up, abandoned home in the outskirts of zaun. it became yours and your friend's designated spot. a spot where powder would train, punching and kicking at the air with a wide grin, you sitting and observing. a spot where she’d sit down and whistle her favorite songs painfully out of tune. a spot where you shared secrets, talked about her adventures with her siblings, and you shared your frustrations about stupid homework. you'd brag about how cool your auntie sevika was.

"she's just so strong! and she can fight off anyone. she plays games with me, and she helps me with my reading work. even if it's hard."

powder's eyes would widen, and she'd nod enthusiastically.

"really? she sounds awesome! maybe i'll get to fight like her one day..."

"why can't you?"

and then powder would grumble, her eyes flickering down as she folded her hands in her lap.

"my sister doesn't think i'm ready. she says i'm not experienced enough."

she makes air quotes when she says 'experienced enough,' huffing and rolling her eyes. you'd reach out to squeeze her shoulder, trying to give any kind of comfort. you weren't the best at offering consolation, but you could at least do this for her.

when powder came to that same spot a mere few weeks later, she was bursting at the seams with excitement. she couldn't stay still, and as soon as the girl saw you, she bolted in your direction. throwing her arms around you and squealing. you were confused- but powder was clearly happy, possibly the happiest you'd ever seen her. so you wrapped your arms around her in return. she pulled her face back, blue eyes sparkling.

"vi finally said i'm ready. i'm going on a job, tomorrow! topside! it's gonna be a good one."

powder was positively beaming, and you could only smile. you tried to find the words for a moment, although you were ecstatic for her.

"really? that's awesome!"

"mhm! she said she's gonna take me with the others, and i can help!"

powder heard violet's voice calling for her from the end of the alley, seemingly having searched for her. she looked back at you.

"i'll see you soon, okay?"

then, radio silence.

you visited your usual spot a few times after that, your heart wrenching in your chest upon seeing the spot powder usually occupied empty. you had heard rumors swirling around of powder being caught after her job, her sister growing angry. yet, you didn't want to believe it. powder was your best friend, she was amazing! there was nothing the girl couldn't do.

but it was true. your best friend, powder, didn't pull it off. an arrest. an explosion. what caused it? what happened to powder?

it was driving your mind wild, pulling you in different directions and eating at your insides. you asked around, other children of zaun, but each one ignored you, shook their head, shrugged, muttered a quiet 'i don't know.' it was killing you.

that was, until the next time you visited your aunt. you sat down at her dining table, cheap leather peeling off of the seat. uneven legs, heightening your fear of toppling over any time you shifted. sevika brewed coffee instead of lighting her usual cigar, her back turned to you as she slowly moved through the kitchen.

"hey, aunt sev?"

you asked, voice unsure. shaking.

"huh?"

she responded, her back still turned to you.

"you know my friend, powder. you've met her, haven't you?" you saw sevika pause, leaning over to brace her hands on the edge of the counter. "she's kinda... missing. do you know what happened?"

"i do."

she responded, tone blunt with a sharp edge. you winced at this, you knew just how scary your aunt could be if provoked. but you cared too much for powder, this was too important-

"she's with silco and i. he took her in. she's a problem."

"a problem?"

your heart sunk in your chest. god, how could your best friend be a problem?

"yes. she's distracting silco, but he insists that she'll be an asset."

"please, sev, tell me m-"

the woman turned her back and slammed an empty mug onto the table.

"i'm not talking about this anymore."

✧.*

the day after your seventeenth birthday was when you found powder- ‘jinx,’ they now called her. a dark alleyway in the outermost of zaun, not far off from your spot just a few years prior. you’d begun taking morning walks to clear your head of all the bullshit that came with being a young girl in the middle of a troubled city- one with a close relative who worked for silco of all people. to get the swirling anxiety, political unrest, friends disappearing left and right, all of it- out of your damn mind.

you’d experimented with walking routes, going through the lanes, through some of the highest roads in zaun, but none were quite as… peaceful as the outskirts. much more nature, less people, more tranquil than any other area. your head hung low, hands in your pocket, gaze on the ground. whistling.

you would recognize that sound anywhere. the same song powder used to always whistle, you heard it again. the tone was a bit deeper, a bit more raspy, but god, it had to be her. your head shot up, eyes darting around for the source of the song. busted windows, trash cans… blue braids.

your feet moved quicker than your mind could. you ran to the girl, breathless, throwing your arms around her.

and then she pushed you off of her, your back hitting the ground.

“powder- powder, what the fuck?! you don’t remember me?”

she stood over you, breath heaving, blue eyes boring directly through you. searching for any sign of danger or betrayal, studying your features…

“oh. oh.”

“powder, please-”

the girl yanked you up by your shoulders and got onto her knees, immediately pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. long nails dug into the fabric of your top.

“it’s jinx now.”

oh. oh god. you’d heard that name before. the name of a master criminal in the making, under the watchful eye of silco. his prodégé, his daughter. she had been powder, this entire time? under your nose for years, and you had no idea?

you wrapped your arms back around her, tentative, so scared to break her. the way she flinched told you all you needed to know.

“po-jinx, it’s okay… you’re okay…”

she only held you, her chin resting on your shoulder.

"a lot has changed."

"i know. but it's okay." you pause. "are you busy?"

jinx has her hands resting on your shoulders, pulling back the same way that she did the day before her job.

"no... no, not right now. why?"

the corner of your lips tug into a gentle smile.

"we have some catching up to do."

✧.*

the first thing jinx did was drag you around her newfound hideout. slim floors of metal with a seemingly endless drop below them, and a lack of railings. anxiety peaked as you walked through her home, but it was... charming. black lights paired with bright, colorful graffiti enhancing each surface. her face lit up as she showed you each of her handmade weapons.

you remembered the young powder with a single braid and defected color bombs, but these..? these were fully functioning explosives and assault weapons. god, where did she learn to do this?

"hey, whatcha thinking about?"

you're pulled out of your thoughts by one of jinx's fingers poking at your forehead. her blue eyes fixed on you...

"nothing. just... this is different."

jinx swings a leg over her seat at her workbench, picking up... a blowtorch?

"well, yeah. i told you things changed."

she quips, so nonchalant. how could she be so calm about her new lifestyle? it was such a drastic change, yet you couldn't help but... admire it. the environment surrounding you was a direct reflection of the person your friend had become. pilties feared her, zaunites revered her. to be able to make such a name for herself and have the unwavering sense of justice jinx had at such a young age was incredible to you.

god, jinx. she had really been staring you in the face for all of these years.

"tell me more.”

you said, slowly settling down beside her, bracing your elbows on the cold metal.

“oh, where to start?” she grinned. “well, right now i’m doing a lot in the way of enforcers and firelights. inventing, and all that. blowing stuff up.”

she giggled, not looking at you for a second. her thin hands held one of the very blue crystals a young powder held as if a precious amulet.

“and what about silco?”

“silco? he’s great! he’s always believed in me, said i’m smart and i can do whatever i put my mind to. he thinks i’m perfect.”

she hums, continuing to tinker away. your heart sinks the slightest bit. although silco was definitely a symbol of the undercity, he was feared. it just didn’t sit right with you. for him to have somebody like jinx in his grasp was frightening, but if she turned out relatively okay in the end, it was fine… right?

“oh, and sevika’s an ass.”

“my aunt?”

jinx turns to you suddenly, lifting her goggles off her face.

“since when is sevika your aunt?”

“…since i was born?”

you reply, raising an eyebrow… the same way sevika does with jinx. she folds over in a fit of laughter, her forehead on the workbench-

“oh, oh gods! that’s too good. how did i not know?”

✧.*

october 10.

jinx’s birthday.

jinx’s eighteenth birthday.

being slightly younger than her, you didn’t know exactly what was appropriate for an eighteenth birthday celebration. you were never good at birthdays to begin with. but you had to think, think. this is for jinx.

you’d grown accustomed to her new lifestyle, the mischief that followed her everywhere she went. whether she always found trouble or trouble always found her, you were unsure, but one thing was for certain: she had grown into one of the most badass women you’ve ever met. becoming close with her again, stepping into her shoes and experiencing a taste of jinx’s world, it was almost as if nothing had changed. in terms of your friendship, at least. she would still talk about her sister (although their relationship was less than ideal now), show you her contraptions, and whistle her favorite songs.

except for when you noticed your affections for jinx becoming something more than what was appropriate for friends.

curse you, curse you for falling for your childhood best friend. that was what you kept telling yourself. how could you fall for someone you had considered your best friend for so long? the thought of losing jinx again over something as trivial as a crush made your heart ache.

so you repressed it.

you repressed the way that your heart skipped a beat when she inched closer to you on her workbench.

you repressed the way her smile brought a swarm of butterflies to your stomach.

you repressed the way you wished to call her late at night just to hear her voice.

you repressed the way those blue eyes could make you give in to anything.

but that’s not important. no. what’s important is decorating jinx’s hideout while she’s out on a job for her birthday and throwing together a cake. pink and blue banners, big balloons with the number ‘18,’ crude paper-mache iterations of her monkey bombs, and making a gift.

you were hunched over your desk for hours trying to make her a charm bracelet, representative of your history. scrap metal from crushed cans, pliers, discarded chains, and acrylic paint could take you further than you expected. a mouse, for mouser. a blue ball, for her crystals. a can of spray paint. a bomb. a monkey. all little charms representative of what made jinx jinx.

did you burn yourself? yes. did you have to bandage yourself from getting cut by thin metal? also yes. but it was for her.

and a card. you decided in the days leading up to jinx’s birthday that you had to tell her somehow how you felt. it was eating up at you from the inside out.

when jinx arrived to her hideout, kicking the door open, it took a moment for her to notice that anything was different. somehow the streamers, candles, and smell of cake didn’t give it away, but she quickly strode over to you with the same jump in her step as always.

“heya t-”

and she finally noticed. glancing around at the handmade decorations on her workbench and the balloons, the pink and blue icing on her cake…

“oh. oh wow.”

she chuckled, in mild disbelief.

“wow, all of this for little ol’ me?”

you nodded, body tense with anticipation and anxiety. you knew the second she opened that card, everything would change. she sighed in that playful way she always did, and put her hands on her hips.

“okay. where to start?”

she glanced over the workbench. the cake, card, and small wrapped gift.

“well, it’s only right to start with the card.”

she sat down, and unceremoniously began tearing the envelope open at the top with her fingernails. not even using the flap in the back. you should’ve expected as much. she finally gets through to the card and looks at the front- a drawing of the two of you sat side by side.

“oh, this is cute!”

she beamed, and eagerly flipped the card open, and that’s when you saw blue eyes beginning to scan over the words inside.

“powder, rather jinx, i’m sorry that this is so sudden. eighteen is a big feat. you’re grown! and i’m proud of everything you’ve done. all the progress you’ve made for zaun, and all of the things you’ve come over. you’re a strong, smart, wonderful girl. but i need you to know that i’ve had feelings for you for a while now, and i can’t keep ignoring them. meeting you again and getting to know the person you’ve become has been one of the best experiences of my life. i wish i could spend those days alongside you as your girlfriend.

if you want to throw this card away and forget about it, i won’t be mad. just think about what i said.

-your best friend.”

her eyes scanned over the paper. again, and again, and again. did she really have to read it so many times? her brows furrowed, then raised, then furrowed again, before she glanced up at you.

“you… mean this?”

you let out a shaky breath.

“of course i mean it, jinx.”

you then felt thin, yet strong arms thrown around you and a head buried into your chest.

“i thought i was crazy…”

she murmurs, voice muffled by the thick fabric of your top. her tone is softer than usual, a side of her you’ve grown to realize is reserved for you only.

“crazy how?”

“crazy because i feel the same way.”

did the world stop?

was time hanging over your head?

“oh, god- jinx, you’re serious?”

you laughed, returning her embrace with tears pricking at your eyes. she squeezed you even tighter to her, beginning to pepper little kisses all over your face- no doubt leaving stains in their wake.

“ah! you still have a gift to open, jinx!”

you were mockingly protesting. in truth, you felt like you were floating.

“don’t care!”

✧.*

shortly after jinx’s own, your nineteenth birthday came and passed with jinx clinging to your arm. a day of being dragged through zaun tagging walls together, your girlfriend presenting you with a barely-edible cake, and rushed kisses on her couch.

which sevika walked in on.

regardless, you woke up to the sound of jinx’s deep breathing, close to your ear. still sleeping, her ear right up against the left side of your chest. you’d noticed she liked listening to your heartbeat, especially during late nights together. the first and only time you asked about it, she just said, ‘it’s relaxing.’ if anything could relax jinx, you’d do it.

you couldn’t move, not yet. you could only look down at the sleeping girl on top of you, snoring like an old man. if it were anybody else, you’d have stopped sharing a bed a long time ago. but jinx was kind of… endearing.

“mm… what time is it, toots?”

you heard her grumble.

“uh…” you moved your wrist from under her to glance at your wristwatch. “11:20.”

“ugh… it’s too early.”

“too early?”

“yes! i need to sleep more… five more minutes.”

one of jinx’s classic lies. but you let her, regardless, because who were you to deny a little longer of the girl you loved clinging to you? your free hand came to her lower back, your thumb rubbing gentle circles over soft skin.

“okay. then while you’re here, i need to tell you something.”

“mm… go ‘head.”

there was no easy way to put this, but you had to spit it out.

"i'm going to topside later. going to jayce's lab with ekko and the professor. they said there was something... important i needed to see. something about hextech."

with this, jinx's eyes fluttered open, looking up at you. thick brows furrowed.

"why?"

"something about hextech."

you repeated yourself. she grumbled.

"why d'you have to be the one to do it?"

your eyes widened for a moment. damn. you weren't sure how to answer this question, exactly. why did it have to be you? clearly, jinx wasn't asked about it if this is the first time she's hearing about it. but you knew it was important enough if you, a relatively ordinary citizen of zaun were asked to accompany heimerdinger and his newest student.

"i... i don't know. but it's important enough. i'll be a few hours tops, okay? a few hours, then i'll come back and be right here when you're ready to sleep. we can be just like-"

you pointed to her head still laying directly over your heart,

"this, again tonight."

jinx grumbled, slowly pulling herself away from your chest, bringing herself to loom over you. unkempt blue braids on either side of your face, rosy eyes locked on yours.

"fine. but you better be back when you say you'll be."

you reached up to place your hands on pale cheeks, tracing your thumbs underneath her eyes, still heavy with sleep.

"i'll be back before you know it, baby. it'll be like i never even left."

✧.*

the lab. the lab.

that's the last place you can remember being before waking up with a gasp. you felt as if you got a punch directly to the stomach, body reeling with the aftershocks of... something. all you could do was heave, pant, use your hands to brace yourself against a... bedside table? desperately trying to find some kind of support.

you slowly gain your composure. your breath coming to you in short gasps, as your eyes finally manage to scan your surroundings. a bedside table, a full-sized bed with blue sheets, a bookshelf with various travel guides and science textbooks scattered about. a corkboard on the wall, with photos of... you? and somebody else.

you stumble over the corkboard, slowly lifting your gaze. photo strips from photo booths hang on the board, as well as post-it notes with scribbled drawings. the pictures are of you, and a girl. a girl who, upon closer inspection, looks almost exactly like jinx. but not quite. her eyes didn't have those bags you'd grown accustomed to, and her face seemed fuller. she had a wide grin or silly expression plastered onto her face in almost every picture. the jinx you knew hated her picture being taken.

this girl's hair also was chopped to her shoulders. jinx kept her hair so long she had learned how to not trip over it. a gentle breeze sweeps the room, and the air is... more clear. not as overwhelming as the usual pollution of zaun. you think you can manage a deep breath in without feeling any side effects.

"there you are, silly!"

you hear from behind you. you snap your head over your shoulder with a gasp, and it's the girl from the pictures. oh, god.

she sets down a box on the bed, a few bolts spilling out from the cushion of the mattress.

"heh, whoops."

she chuckles, placing both hands on her hips. she really does look exactly like jinx. blue hair strung up into messy space buns and a little pink streak. that's new. you glance around at the room once again, noticing the corkboard. a drawing of you and the girl on a yellow post-it, with "POWDER" scribbled beneath it.

powder?

"what... what is this?"

you manage to breathe out. the girl- powder, strides over to you and wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind.

"only materials for my next big project! i told you about this. remember?"

she giggles, voice playing directly next to your ear. a chaste kiss to your cheek and a bubbly girl holding you. you raise an eyebrow, looking back at her. your shoulders tense, eyes blown wide. how could this have happened? didn't powder adopt the identity of jinx after that job?

"this is what happens when you pull a double two days in a row. i know you need the extra time, babe, but you're exhausted."

powder pinches your cheek between her forefinger and thumb. that same playful smile unwavering.

"come on, we've still got a lot to do today. we're talking some stuff over with benzo, remember?"

benzo? the benzo whose corpse you saw?

"i... okay. just give me a minute to freshen up."

you make your way down the hall to a bathroom. this place was set up like a goddamned labyrinth, but you managed. you look at yourself in the mirror.. your clothes seemed nicer. more tailor-fit. your skin was more clear, almost no blemishes or scars. your hair was a bit longer, you still had split ends- guess you could never be bothered to trim those in any world. but... this was different. you huff, deciding to cut your losses and just go to this meeting you apparently had planned.

as soon as you arrive to the last drop, it's like being flashbanged. your eyes widen at how much more bright the place seems. new booths and tables, it seems as if it's been recently renovated for the sake of modernity. and then you noticed vander.

you knew how much vander's loss affected jinx. she talked fondly of him often, but you could tell the fact that he was no longer here was killing jinx, no matter how much time had passed since that day. yet, here he was in the flesh, chatting away with a customer behind the bar as if nothing had happened. had anything happened?

"oh, oh my god. you're here. do you know what happened?"

your body jutted forward and you snapped your head around, your first instinct being to shove whoever was behind you. but you didn't thankfully. ekko.

"you're here too? shit, i don't know, i just- i woke up, and i was here, and everything's different, and everyone is acting different."

you muttered, beginning to pace around. the boy in front of you seemed stunned, shaking his head in disbelief.

"you don't know anything?"

"i'm just as confused as you are, ekko."

"sorry! ran a little late. you know how the streets get this time of day."

you heard from behind you, powder carrying a brown messenger bag.

"...jinx?"

powder just quirked an eyebrow, one of her signature confused expressions. she shakes her head, brushing off the fact and makes her way toward the bar. benzo's sat on one of the stools, waiting.

you shoot a glance in ekko's direction, mouthing 'sorry.'

✧.*

the second the meeting is over, you grab ekko by the arm and pull him into an alleyway behind the last drop. you sigh, letting his arm go, and he's visibly peeved.

"what the hell?!"

"i'm sorry, ekko, i just... this is all so weird. apparently powder never became jinx, and benzo is alive, and so are vander and silco and things just seem so... nice. i keep telling myself it isn't real, but i'm not waking up from whatever the fuck this is."

ekko looks down, his hand pressing into the spot below his eyebrows. he shakes his head.

"i talked to heimerdinger earlier. he said this is some kind of parallel universe. no hextech, so there's not a good chance of us getting back."

you swore you could've felt your stomach drop. oh no.

"how is there no hextech? are you serious?"

"i wouldn't lie about this."

"fuck. fuck."

you're tangling your hands in your hair, once again finding yourself pacing back and forth. the alleyway is clear aside from a few palettes and trash cans, yourself and ekko being the only occupying presence.

"we're trying to figure something out, together. but it's going to take a while."

your feet still, and you take a deep breath in. your lips press into a thin line. you don't exactly have it in you to be patient right now, but did you have another option?

"shit. okay. it's not like i've got any better ideas."

ekko sighs, his shoulders dropping. you glance over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in an effort to reassure him.

"i'll try and think of something, too. just keep me updated, okay?"

ekko gives you a small grin and nods.

"i will. it'll be alright- let's hope, at least."

your eyes wander over to the last drop's back door, and it's cracked open, with powder looking out.

shit. how long has she been there?

you walked to your apartment side-by-side with powder, but she seemed so... tense. she didn't look at you much during the walk back, which made you a bit fearful. she was so chipper just an hour or two ago, what happened?

you swung open the door after taking a few tries to find the correct key, something powder also noticed. thankfully, she didn't mention it, or you'd have a difficult time explaining.

you stepped in, taking off your jacket and dropping it on the arm of a leather couch. one that wasn't peeling.

"so, when did you and ekko get so close again?"

she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. this may not be jinx, but she has the same facial expressions. she thinks you're hiding something.

"huh? we've always been friends."

"you guys fell out two weeks ago and you swore you'd never talk to him again."

oh shit.

"you don't remember? i mean... i guess it makes sense, i thought it was just a misunderstanding. you're usually the one to talk things out."

huh? you and ekko were never particularly close, but you'd never had a falling out. shit, everything really was different here.

"yeah... uh, yeah. we made up."

you say, hoping to whatever was out there that she wouldn't catch onto the fact you didn't have a damn clue what she was talking about.

"huh."

she huffs, clearly unconvinced.

"what, powder? come on, you've gotta talk to me."

"ugh- that doesn't explain why you were touching him like that!"

she snaps, her voice raising, yet not quite yelling. the look in her eyes, she looks as if she's genuinely been betrayed.

"i.. what? i was touching his shoulder, powder."

"yeah, and yesterday you were resting against it. what next, you'll be kissing his neck?"

were you really? god dammit, you had no way of knowing what this other version of you was doing before-

"no! powder, no. i... i'm sorry. but you have to believe me, we're friends. we were discussing something important to us."

she rolls her eyes, tapping her foot against the ground.

"come on. i respect your privacy, i trust you to not cheat, but you've got to ease up on him. rather, he has to ease up on you."

"powder, nothing's happening."

she sighs, her head hanging down in defeat.

"you promise?"

"i promise you."

powder slowly steps closer to you, shaky hands slowly coming to cup both of your cheeks.

"i just don't want anything to happen between us, okay? things are good."

"they are. but nothing will happen."

as... unfamiliar as this is, this version of powder, this supposed life of yours, you couldn't deny that it was welcoming. in some ways, it was a lot better than the world you came from. the overrun streets of zaun, the political unrest of piltover, thousands addicted to shimmer and more friends dead than alive. you could get used to this, but you wouldn't.

you suppose it wouldn't be so bad to indulge yourself until ekko figured something out, though.

"hey. you still like wearing braids in your hair, don't you?"

powder hums, pursing her lips.

"uh... i haven't worn one since i was a kid, but sure."

you sigh, and gently take both of her hands in yours.

"come on. i'll do some twin braids on you, braid pink ribbon into your hair. does that sound alright?"

powder seems to perk up at this, blue eyes going wide.

"ribbons?"

"yeah. you've got that pink streak going on."

"oh... okay. sure. knock yourself out."

she squeezes your hands, smiling.

#jinx x reader #arcane x reader #arcane x you #reader insert #arcane imagine #sapphic

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always-just-red · 2 months ago

Text

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

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

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh.

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: ��Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms.

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation.

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…”

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper.

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers.

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you.

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins.

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him.

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy.

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer.

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish.

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes.

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours.

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly.

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.”

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up.

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs.

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance.

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you.

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight.

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too.

“This is�� really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm.

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s…

Perfect.

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers.

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there.

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

#🖋rach is actually writing #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads x mc #shen xinghui #li shen #qi yu #qin che #lads #lnds #l&ds

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pomefioredove · 4 months ago

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So people use Kalim, right? Like pretend to be his friend because he has money-

What if Kalim's crush is just like "Yeah I grew up poor....anyways! I bought you this gold bracelet! Probably not real gold, but I thought it'd fit your style." And is just always pulling up with gifts and little trinkets and just refuses to let Kalim spend any money 😭 I also imagine if Kalim gave them a gift, they'd just start bawling because they don't know how to accept gifts-

:3c I love a little kalim posting

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the mystery of the magi

type of post: short fic characters: kalim additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, realizing now that I went a liytle off-prompt, sorry u-u

You gave Kalim one rule.

One rule. You had no expectations, no requirements, no shopping list.

Just one rule... that happened to be impossible for him to follow.

"No money?" Jamil asks, watching Kalim pace the room. "You can't spend any money? So no clothes, no jewelry, no games?"

It's far past curfew, but even Jamil had long forgotten about that. That's how strange this whole thing is.

Kalim has never looked so worried. "Not a thaumark. They said so!"

"Did they...?"

Of course. Jamil has thought you were weird from the day Kalim started coming home with plastic toys and friendship bracelets, "gifts" of yours. But this is just absurd.

The heir to one of the richest families in the world has days to find you the perfect birthday gift, and he can't spend any money.

Kalim's eyes are wide with thought, which is a strange look on him. "They say that my presence is enough..."

"But it's not," Jamil finishes the thought for him. Kalim had always given gifts as love- handing out gold and jewels like they were candy- which made him a treat for... well, most of NRC. But not you.

"Well... there's plenty you can do without spending," Jamil says. "You could... cook something, or plan a nice date..."

Kalim pouts. "It's not enough! Everything they get me is so... perfect... I want to do the same!"

Perfect, meaning the cheap toys from claw machines, drawings, handmade jewelry, half-edible cookies... Kalim keeps everything you give him. Everything. His room is beginning to look like the prize shelf at an arcade.

"This is quite the conundrum, isn't it..." Jamil mutters. "Are you sure I can't-"

"No! I need to come up with it on my own! They're just... so good at gift-giving. I wonder how they do it..." Kalim sighs. Jamil rolls his eyes.

"Then... perhaps I can offer some advice. The sort of gift you're looking to give doesn't come from here," Jamil says, pointing to his head. He trails his finger down to his chest.

"...It comes from here."

Though that was complete nonsense, Kalim lights up. "I-I think I understand! Thanks, Jamil!"

And then he's gone.

Trapped in a circle of friends and Scarabia students, you awkwardly smile at their birthday wishes.

Grim's greedy little paws dig into the homemade cake before the candles are out, getting icing all over himself. You chuckle, a warm, loving sound that makes Kalim beam. Good so far.

"Time for gifts. We do have a curfew to mind," Jamil says, and Grim laughs maniacally, reaching out for the first box.

"Actually," Kalim says, smiling as if it were his own birthday. "I was hoping I'd get to give my gift first!"

You chuckle. "I don't see why not,"

Kalim returns the gesture, and he stands on the table, drawing everyone's attention to him. Jamil raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not seeing a box!" Grim shouts, and you shush him. Kalim clears his throat.

"I'm usually not so bad at this, but I had a lot of trouble thinking of the perfect present for you... until Jamil said I was thinking too much here... and not here," he says, pointing first to his head, and then lower, to his throat.

You give Jamil a confused look, but he looks just as lost.

"So... that's what I'm going to do. Happy birthday!"

Everyone watches in some mix of amusement and horror as Kalim begins to sing... in your honor.

Without any accompanying music, he performs, in front of everyone you know, a song about everything he loves about you. Even Jamil looks horrified.

When it's over, the room is quiet. Everyone is staring at Kalim as if his head had fallen off.

Then, slowly, you stand. And you clap.

You're beaming. "That was amazing! Again! Again!"

Kalim grins, unphased by the weird looks everyone is giving you two, and he hops off the table to pull you into a hug.

"I'm so glad you liked it!"

"Liked it!? That was..." you laugh, hugging him back. "That was perfect."

"I can sing it as much as you want! Every night, if it makes you happy!"

"Sevens help me..." Jamil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Trey gives him a sympathetic pat on the back.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #kalim al asim x reader

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shawnlenore · 26 days ago

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10 YEARS! I'VE BEEN MAKING HOW TO BE A WEREWOLF FOR 10 YEARS! Thank you to everyone who's followed me over this freaking decade, whether you showed up yesterday or found me on Tumblr in 2015. If you'd like to celebrate with me, please tell your friends about my little comic! howtobeawerewolf.com

I started making HTBAW after I was burnt out from college and the recession and grief. I had barely drawn a thing in five years and I thought I would give up art forever and move on to an office job. I wanted to give it one last shot. I came up with the premise while walking the dog lol

I had lost a lot of my love for drawing after scrambling my personal drawing preferences to try and fit into the animation industry at the time, and I think after a decade, I've finally hit a stride that I'm really proud of. I've leveled up a little more every year! My goal all along was to have a medium for my love of storytelling. I wanted to be able to prove to myself that I was good at telling stories, because I had always really enjoyed writing and creating characters, but never had an opportunity to do it on a large scale. So uh, I made an opportunity?

If you want to see the comic that inspired HTBAW that I made way back in 2014, check below the cut! Also please share this to help spread my little 10 year celebration :D

Anyway, if you want to see how far I've come since the original comic I made that turned into HTBAW, the progress between 2014 and my 1 year anniversary in 2016 was pretty huge lol

#how to be a werewolf #artists on tumblr #werewolves #webcomics #comics

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revelboo · 4 months ago

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AAAHHH omg. Your writing made me fall in love with starscream. I love how much depth you give him as a character. You write him so perfectly 😍 I keep checking Tumblr every day hoping for more

Thank you!

… I keep waking up to 300+ notifications daily and you guys ask me if I’m okay… how about y’all- you guys okay?

Everything is Alright Pt 50

IDW Starscream x Reader

• Lying flat on his back with you sprawled on top of him, partially curled on your side because of his canopy, he vents softly and traces the tips of his servos up your spine. At least one of you can rest, because he’s just been staring at the ceiling, his processor racing. Knowing he’ll need to mass shift again to go on rotation. Also knowing it’s going to tap into his energon reserves because he’s done it too often lately. And it’ll be some time before he can have this again. Upping his energon consumption, stealing rations is too risky. With their stockpile already so low, it won’t go unnoticed and he can’t risk drawing Megatron’s attention. Can’t risk you.

• Finally, he has to reluctantly shift you, his spark warming when you try to bury your face against his neck with a sleepy sound of protest. Not wanting him to go. Tangling his fingers in your hair, he presses his lips to the top of your head and shifts you off of him, finding your blanket and dragging it over you as you curl into the warm spot he’s leaving behind. Sleepy eyes look up at him as he shifts to the edge of the berth, legs dangling and mass shifts back to his full size. “You can’t stay?” That soft question freezes him and he turns to run a servo down your arm, his touch lingering. Because he really can’t. Someone will come looking for him if he does and that mech can’t find you.

• It still takes an effort to leave you, to step out into the hall. “Primus, Star.” The words and tone startle him as his door closes behind him, before Thundercracker is too close, hands on him pushing him toward the washracks. Baring his denta, he almost stumbles as Thundercracker sharply vents. “I can smell you. Everyone can.” Spark freezing in his chest, he allows his brother to push him into the thankfully empty space. His wings angle up aggressively as he snatches a chemical cleanser and steps under the spray. Washing away your scent and hating losing it. “You- how? You mass shifted, right?”

• Glowering at Thundercracker, he tips his face up into the warm water. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Because the other mech can’t know what he did with you. How much you mean to him, so much more than a pet taken on a whim. If he knows the truth, that puts you in danger, a piece to be used against him.

• “I’m not judging,” Thundercracker mutters, stepping into the open stall next to him. “I, ah, took a human, too. I just didn’t think we could...” Shrugging his wings weakly, he trails off. “It’s just a surprise.”

• A secret for a secret? Why tell him about his own human? Or is it a lie to pry more information from him? Jaw working, denta gritting he tries to ignore the other Seeker, but he’s painfully aware of how long it’s been since Thundercracker had stopped reaching out to him. There’s always been so much to do and slowly their trine had drifted apart. Grew distant and he misses that sense of belonging. “You took a human,” he finally mutters under his breath.

• Thundercracker’s wings lift slightly. Happy. And Starscream does miss this, having the time to just talk to Thundercracker and Skywarp both. “How did you,” Thundercracker trails off again, a hand rubbing at the back of his helm. And he waits for the other mech to figure out what he wants to ask. “Yours likes you, right?”

• Wings bristling, he has to remind himself that it’s not a wholly inappropriate question. “I would hope so.” Wonders what Thundercracker thinks might have happened between you. What he assumes you are to him. A toy? Venting roughly, he scrubs at his plating, more aggravated that his brother might think that than he likes or will ever admit. “I take it yours doesn’t?”

• Grimacing at the question, Thundercracker’s vents. “We got along. I thought we did,” he mutters. “They’ve been upset with me ever since I took them, though.” Glancing over at his brother, Starscream wonders at those words. Had Thundercracker been visiting a human in secret, sneaking out just to spend time with one? How had that gone unnoticed? Because he’s been distracted with you, neglecting his duties. “I just wanted them with me. Happy and safe. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but their lives are so short and we were happy together, but it’s all wrong now.”

• And he freezes, because that’s not something he’d ever even thought about, the rest of the other Seeker’s words lost. Uneasy dread slipping about his spark as he turns to look at Thundercracker. His brother’s just being dramatic. He has to be. “How short?”

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #idw starscream

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sillysiluriforme · 18 days ago

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Hi! IDK if you're still cool with MLB La Terreur oc's and stuff but I really really really wanted to show you mine because your au has captivated the very corners of my soul and have awakened an intense and fiery love for the characters that I have not felt since I was eleven years old. And omg the senti-children cult thingy and the Galattaca Girls? Mwah, mwah, mwah, a million chefs kisses!! They're probably my favourite thing out of this au! Anywho! I made an oc! Her name is Vivienne Shin-Auclaire! She's a student in the main gang's class, and while her family is super rich, she got into the school through a ballet dance scholarship. And she's kinda the worst about it! She's very bossy and extremely snarky and condescending about how she got in, claiming that she could've relied on her money but she ended up relying on her hard work and talent. She does treat other scholarship students a bit more kindly though and has more respect for them. She's got this 'work hard, play hard' mindset and believes that only people who put in a lot of effort should be the ones to succeed. So she absolutely DESPISES Chloe and her family at the beginning. She's also very, very strict about rules, kind of like a cross-breed between a teacher's pet and the most pretentious ballerina you will ever meet. But she acts like this a lot because she desperately wants people to think she's important and to prove to herself and her parents that she's important and influential. That's also why she likes dancing so much; when she's on stage, everyone is looking at her and admiring her. And she feels that if she shows people how hard she works, then they'll have to respect her! They'll have to shower her in praise! Right???? I'm also thinking of making her a senti kid because I really, really like that concept, but I'm still figuring out how to make that work lol.

I'm not very good at drawing, so I just made a picrew of her! I hope that's okay :) she is my stinky baby, the girlbossiest girlfailure, she will ruin the lives of others and then herself. Anyways, thank you so so much for giving us such a compelling and intriguing story! I can't wait to see what else you have in store for us! Mwah mwah!

love me an angry girl w big feelings

#miraculous ladybug #mlb la terreur au #silu's art #silu responds #ml ocs

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nieceeee · 3 months ago

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ONYANKOPON MASTERLIST

My one stop shop for this fine chocolate man. Content in purple is NSFW so minors DNI please and thank you!

UPDATED: 1/29/25

SERIES:

BESTFRIEND!ONY X READER

"ALWAYS MINE"

-bestfriend!ony x reader, your friends are confused on exactly how far this relationship goes. And it doesn’t help that they come over and you’re walking out of his bedroom

"BESTFRIENDS"

-Bestfriend!ony x reader have been friends for years. They do everything together from matching outfits to matching tattoos. But is Ony getting to close to his friend?

“SOUNDS OF FRIENDSHIP”

-PS: Bestfriend!ony always sneaks and checks on you every night as a part of his nighttime routine. But this one night, Ony hears something he definitely shouldn’t have. Yet, he can’t seem to pull himself away.

“GOOD MORNING BEST FRIEND”

P/S: What happens the next morning after you and Ony's encounter...

"WANNA BE"

P/S: “Not trynna hear you tell nobody that I’m just a friend. Just trynna make sure I’m the body that you call your man…” Ony is your best friend and its been that way for years. He was your safe haven as much as you were his. You've always shared a connection with one another that many didn't understand. But recently Ony has been struggling with his feelings for you. Things that he used to feel don't quite feel the same anymore. And he's forced to come to terms with reality...

ONE SHOTS:

"ALL THE THINGS"- Boyfriend Ony- angst, fluff, smut

- P/S: Most of your life your relationships have been transactional. You learned early on that nothing you get comes for free, especially with me. It was always a give and take. So when you got with Ony, you expected the same things. For every gift he got you, you made sure to double it because that's how the game goes right? Well Ony wasn't having that. He was going to get it through to you by any means necessary...

"For The 1st Time"- Arranged marriage- angst, fluff

-P/S: You knew that this was your destiny. From the time you were born. Ony knew it as well. But the problem...neither of you knew each other. Ony was set to be one of the most powerful men in his industry and to solidify that, your father promised you to him. But how the hell was he supposed to marry someone he's never met...

"My Little Secret"- Ony x reader - angst, smut

-You and Ony had never really solidified your relationship with one another. It was all "my man my man my man" when yall were alone but in public, nobody knew the dirty little secret you shared. Not even Ony's little girlfriend. So when he pulls up to the party with her on his arm, will you be able to keep that secret under wraps? If he doesn't tell, you won't tell..

"SPIN"- ony x reader - smut

-"Ass or tits?" was the question asked of him. "Titties all day. Yall can keep that other shit." Ony has always been an assertive man. He knew what he liked and what he didn't like. He knew what turned him on and what he pulled away from. He was always certain in his decisions. That was until you came along. The moment you stepped into his life, everything Ony swore he wasn't interested in was flipped upside down...

"MATTERS OF THE HEART" - fluff

-"pro athlete character who gets featured on a tiktok for the team where the social media manager asks to see what’s in the players’ lockers. he opens up his and everyone is shocked to see stick figure drawings from y’alls kids & printed out selfies of him, you, and your kids. the domestic display is so different from his in-game personality that it almost feels like a prank, but when questioned further, he just tells the viewers, “my locker is full of reminders for who im playing and winning for."

“I WONT BITE UNLESS YOU LIKE.” - smut

P/N: Ony’s life was everything he dreamed it would be. His dream career. A community he loved and who loved him. He had it all. So how the hell did he end up damn near losing everything when he met you?...

DRABBLES:

"ITS 7PM FRIDAY" - Ony's reaction to you singing Gloriila TGIF

"BOUNDARIES" - Bestfriend!ony who doesn’t know the meaning of personal boundaries and by doesn’t know I mean he doesn’t give two fucks.

"PERIOD PROBLEMS" - How your best friend acts when you're on your period.

SMAU:

"GIVE ME 5" "PT 2" - The guys are wondering what's taking Ony so long to get on the game.

"SEND ME MY BABY" - Ony wants pics of his baby girl

“PICS OR IT DIDNT HAPPEN” - You're wondering where your man went. Turns out he was just was just at the gym...

“COFFEE” - Ony brings you back a sweet treat after last night…

#nieceenotes #ony #onyankapon #onyankopon x you #fem!reader #aot x y/n #aot x reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #ony x black reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon smut #onyankopon fluff #ony x reader #masterlist

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itoshiabi · 22 days ago

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How I think your first meeting will be with blue lock characters

Pt.1: Isagi, Bachira, Sae, Barou, Nagi, Reo,

Pt.2- Here

Isagi Yoichi – The Neighbor Next Door

You were struggling to carry a box of groceries up the stairs to your new apartment when someone caught the toppling bag of vegetables just in time.

"You okay?" a concerned voice asked.

Looking up, you saw a boy with short dark hair and kind blue eyes holding your bag.

"Yeah, thanks," you sighed.

He grinned. "I live next door. Need help with the rest?"

Before you could refuse, he had already grabbed another bag and walked ahead.

"By the way, I'm Isagi Yoichi!"

And that's how.... You two become friends.

Bachira Meguru – The Art Class Menace

You had just started a new art class under Bachira's mom when someone sat beside you, grinning mischievously.

"Wanna see something cool?" the messy-haired boy asked.

Before you could respond, he doodled a tiny monster in your sketchbook.

"…Did you just draw in my book?" you asked, incredulous.

He laughed. "It's a gift! Look, he's cute."

You sighed, but something about his energy was contagious.

"Fine. But if you keep messing with my work, at least make it good."

His golden eyes sparkled. "Deal! We're officially art buddies now."

Sae Itoshi – The Wrong Drink Order

You were at a coffee shop when the barista accidentally called out the wrong name. Before you could grab your drink, another hand took it.

"That's mine," you said.

The red-haired stranger took a sip, then looked at the cup. "Not anymore."

You gawked. "Did you just steal my coffee?"

He sighed and slid his untouched drink toward you. "Take mine."

You hesitated. "What if I don't like it?"

"Not my problem," he said, walking off with yours.

You took a sip of his drink—and immediately frowned.

"…What kind of person drinks plain black coffee?"

From across the shop, he glanced at you with the tiniest smirk. Just like he thought. Every expression of yours is cute...... Maybe he might even give you his number too!

Barou Shouei – The Grocery Store Standoff

You reached for the last carton of milk at the store—only to find another hand grabbing it at the same time.

Turning, you saw a tall, muscular guy with sharp red eyes glaring at you.

"I got it first," you stated.

He scoffed. "No, I did."

You narrowed your eyes. "Do you really need this brand of milk?"

"Hmph. Only weaklings drink anything else."

You refused to back down. "Rock-paper-scissors for it?"

He seemed annoyed but agreed. When you won, he clicked his tongue and let go.

"Tch. Don't think this means you've won against me."

Nagi Seishiro – The Accidental Nap Partner

You were at the library, looking for a quiet spot, when you saw a tall guy sleeping across a table.

Not wanting to wake him, you sat down carefully—until he stirred and opened one eye.

"Mm… warm…" he mumbled, leaning on your shoulder.

Your body froze. "Uh—excuse me?"

He hummed sleepily but didny't move. "Comfy…"

After five minutes of trying to push him off with no success, you sighed.

"…Fine. But you owe me."

The next time you saw him, he handed you a snack. "Thanks for last time. Nap buddies?"

You weren't sure what just happened, but somehow, you had a new lazy friend now.

Reo Mikage - The Designer Boutique Encounter

You were eyeing a necklace in a high-end boutique, debating whether it was worth the splurge, when a voice beside you casually said,

"It'd look good on you."

You turned to see a well-dressed guy with violet eyes, leaning against the counter like he owned the place.

"…Are you a salesperson?" you asked.

He chuckled. "No. But I have good taste."

You raised an eyebrow. "Do you say that to everyone or just random strangers?"

He smirked. "Only the ones who catch my eye."

Before you could roll your eyes, he glanced at the necklace again.

"If you're not gonna buy it, I might. For you"

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lou-struck · 1 month ago

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Made With Love Part 5

Made with Love pt 5

OM Brothers & Datables x reader

Featuring: Simeon and a bonus character

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: yandere Simeon, mentions of kidnapping, passing out, overexertion. Slightly suggestive behavior. Love Potion based personality changes, obsessive behaviors, mention of suggestive behavior, lots of teasing, kissing, touching, etc.

A/n: Thank you to everyone who stuck with me through this process, I know it took awhile to finish this mini series but I hope that it’s worth it.

As the Sorcerer's words echo through the dark, a disbelieving shiver trails down your spine. "Can you please repeat that, Solomon," you ask, hoping that your fatigue has made you auditorily hallucinate and everything will be fine.

His hand comes to rest on your arm, the comforting gesture does little to calm your nerves when the worry in his eyes shines as bright as the human world sun. "Depending on many factors, potions can affect individuals differently. As an angel, this twisted love potion may be much more potent on Simeon than it was on any of the Demons. I advise you to be on your guard when confronting him."

"So the kiss may not work at all?" you ask, trying your best to remain calm, but the slight tremor in your voice betrays you.

He shakes his head, "I'm afraid that's the case." His eyes fill with concern as they flick to the window. "I wonder if I should head back to the lab to try and create an antidote, in case you were to, to."

"In case I fail," you say dryly, understanding the severity of the situation. "But there still is a chance that I can help him, so I'm gonna take it. You should go back to Purgatory Hall; Luke should be…~"

Crap

For the first time in hours, you remember that you did not start this quest on your own. Poor Luke must be freaking out all by himself. You were supposed to check in with the angel, but after your DDD was waterlogged, thanks to Levi, you haven't been able to contact him at all.

"What's the matter Mc?" Solomon asks gently, grabbing ahold of your arm. The warmth radiating from his fingertips brings you back down to earth. "You look like you've seen a ghost.

"It's Luke," you answer, guilt flooding your features at just the mention of the little helper's name. "I was supposed to call him and check in while he has been working on the antidote but I couldn't. Do you have your DDD on you by chance?"

"Do I?" He furrows his brows and pats his pockets. Finding nothing, he frowns. "Sorry, I must've left it in the Banquet Hall. I recall having it when I arrived, but after everything that happened, I must've forgotten to pick it up."

You frown. Just standing around is wasting precious time, but you dread the words that are about to leave your lips. "You should head back. Get the others up to speed and check up on Luke for me, okay?"

"I don't want to leave you," he says; the fire in his eyes tells you that he means it with every fiber of his being. "Not when things are the way they are.

"Technically, I should be the safest out of everyone." you mention, "At least we know what Simeon wants with me; if one of you guys ran into him, it could be a different story."

The determination on your features draws a long sigh from Solomon, one that really reveals his age. "Are you really okay with trying to find him on your own?"

You nod, giving him what you believe to be a convincing smile. "There is still a possibility that I can break the spell on my own. But if I can't, I promise I will call for help.

"If that's what you think is best," he sighs, "But I can't say I'm happy with this arrangement."

"I know you aren't," you say quickly. "But thank you for going along with my plan."

Before he turns to go, he grabs your hand and looks deep into your eyes. "Please be careful, Mc. He may look the same, but that is not the Simeon you know. If things get dicey, just call for me. Please, Mc, promise me you won't try to be a hero and do this on your own. None of us would be able to handle it if something were to happen to you. I wouldn't be able to handle it if you got hurt."

"I promise. I'll be careful," you say solemnly and he shoots you one last glance, begging for you to change your mind before he turns and leaves through a door.

The feeling of loneliness comes quickly; all of your senses feel as if they have been heightened by your current fear. Every shadow that passes you resembles a hand ready to pull you into the darkness, and now you really want to go home.

Where could Simeon be?

The Library?

The Botanical gardens?

The Bathroom?

With the thousands of hiding spots in front of you, you can't help but feel a tad overwhelmed. Your heart rate rises and the stone pattern on the tiles blur under your overwhelmed gaze. You stumble slightly over a divot in the hall and reach out to a long end table to steady yourself.

The porcelain vase rattles but, thankfully, doesn't come crashing down.

Just as you breathe a sigh of relief, a low laughter reaches your ears, and you turn your end to the wall of shadows at the end of the hallway.

Ah, alone at last Mc," Simeon coo's stepping out from behind a pillar, brilliant white wings out on display as he takes you in with dark eyes. "You have no idea what kinds of fun I have planned for the two of us now that I have you all to myself. His usual angelic aura is replaced with one that is dark and menacing; against your better judgment, you are hit with an incapacitating wave of fear.

All it takes is one single step toward you for your courage to falter as one thought races through your mind on loop.

This isn't Simeon…

You turn and run.

At long last, Luke has done it…he thinks.

The Lab smells of black licorice and garlic as the angel's slightly elongated reflection stares back at him as he gazes into the Deep lavender concoction that is supposed to solve everything. This cure should make everyone stop acting so scary, and you can still have the Valentine's Day party you deserve.

But something feels wrong.

You haven't messaged him once through this whole process. Every time Luke stares at his empty inbox, his heart breaks a bit more as he imagines those obsessive demons taking you away forever.

Simeon'

What is going on over there?

Unable to wait any longer for the potion to cool, Luke takes it off its burner. The vial is painfully hot in his hands, but he doesn't let go as he puts a cork in it and runs out of the Lab in a flash.

The sudden burst of cold air in his lungs makes the little angel struggle to breathe, but he keeps running. The taller demons he passes on the street give him odd looks as he passes, but he doesn't have time to care.

Keeping his eyes trained on the wet ground below, he doesn't see the large man-shark demon stepping into his path until he makes contact with his slick, gray skin. Being much lighter than that massive demon, Luke bounces off of him and hits the ground hard.

His knees sting as they scrape the ground and turn an angry red color, but as he struggles to regain his breath, all he can think of is the potion.

Did he break it?

"Hey, little guy?" the demon he had crashed into earlier says, holding out a fin. "Are you okay? That was quite the spill."

Luke takes the fin and gets to his feet. He holds the antidote a bit closer to his chest. "I'm fine, I'm really sorry for running into you, but I have to go."

"It's cool, I get it." the demon says, smiling with his rows and rows and rows of jagged teeth. "Have a good one."

Luke nods and starts to run once more. His stomach twists and turns as he thinks of Simeon, of Barbatos, of you.

While his tired, little mind may be making him think the worst, he has this strange feeling that you are in trouble.

Simeon~

You're in trouble.

Out of breath, you find yourself in the middle of the empty ballroom. The crystal chandelier gleams in the moonlight as a few white feathers float gently to the ground, each one casting a new shadow in Simeon's image.

He's toying with you.

"Are you done running?" His voice echoes through the darkness. "You must be tired, poor thing, won't you come here?" his tone is soft, angelic, and it brings tears to your eyes as you fight your natural instinct to run into his arms.

Although you cannot see him, you can feel his presence, he isn't just watching you at this point, he's hunting you. The intense power radiating from the darkness causes your knees to tremble as you stumble over to the wall. Your body feels far weaker than normal, but your mind is still sharp.

The potion is clearly still effective on him, so it could be entirely possible that he truly is as possessive as the others claimed he was. Meaning, you can use it to your advantage.

"Simeon, c-could you please come out here?" you call, forcing your voice to waver a bit more than necessary to lure him out. "Please, I got rid of the others, so It's just us. I-i want to spend my Valentine's Day with you."

You pause, awaiting his response, but get nothing. If your angel heard you, he doesn't seem to be taking the bait. Squinting through the room, you search for any sign of motion finding nothing.

Walking over to the partially drawn curtains, your fingers close around the thick woven cord and give it a light tug. A bit more moonlight would make your search for Simeon a bit easier, but you find it doesn't budge.

Gritting your teeth, you pull at it again and again, until the velvet drapery slides, revealing a disheveled Simeon who greets you with a manic grin.

"You've done well my darling." he coo's those bright, beautiful blue eyes of his practically concealed by those enlarged hearts. "You found what was behind curtain number one."

His skin feels like it's on fire as his hand latches around your wrist. You gasp at the sensation and instinctively try to step away, but he doesn't let you.

You are enveloped in his steaming embrace as he nuzzles his face into your hair. The faint glow of his wings illuminates the room as his feathers cocoon you. Despite the circumstances, you relax under his familiar touch. "Please don't be afraid of me." he murmurs, his voice soft and genuine as he tries to comfort you.

"I'm not afraid of you Simeon," you answer truthfully, "I could never be afraid of you. Today has just been difficult."

"I know My Love," he says, smiling into your hair. There is something eerie in his tone that puts you on edge. "It must've been difficult playing this little game of hide and seek all by yourself, but you did it. You found everyone, Just like I thought you would."

As his words wash over you, your stomach sinks and you twist around to face him. "What are you talking about?"

He smiles as he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as he eyes you with predatory hunger. "Did you have fun getting your special little moment with everyone else? Did you enjoy their pathetic displays of infatuation, picking off each lovesick fool one by one and sending them off with just a little kiss?"

The Venom in his words causes you to squirm in his hold. "You were watching me?"

"Since you stepped foot in this castle," he grins his nails gently tracing the side of your face. "But unlike those demons, I showed restraint and waited for them to get out of the way. Like always, they were too greedy to focus on the big picture."

Perhaps it's the unusual bout of exhaustion you are feeling, but you're having trouble seeing what Simeon is referring to as the 'big picture' as well. "And what would that be?" You ask carefully.

"Before now, I was always the one to make sacrifices when it came to spending time with you. Whenever I try, you always get taken away from me to either play peacemaker to those selfish demons when they cause problems they lack the mental fortitude to fix themselves, get treated like one of Solomon's little lab rats, or play babysitter to Luke, who is afraid of his own shadow." He is so vexed at the words spewing out of his mouth that his body temperature increases even higher than before, making this smothering contact stiflingly warm.

There is real pain behind his harsh words, the kind that definitely could be exploited by a personality-altering Love Potion; your heart breaks for the neglected angel. "Simeon…"

"So you can see it too?" I am done taking a backseat and watching everyone sweep you off your feet while I am obligated to give up my heart's desire." White feathers twitch as their owner stares down at you darkly. "So I will take you away and dedicate every waking moment of my life to keeping your content."

With wings like those, Simeon could easily carry you away from the Devildom, and judging from the look of desperation on his face, he is planning on doing just that.

"Please listen to me," you plead, placing your hand on his chest; his heart is beating out of control, "It's the Love Potion talking; you don't really want to do this. Let me help you."

He looks as if you had just slapped him across the face. His emotions are going from one extreme to the other. "How can you say that, Mc? How can you say that I wouldn't want to be near you at all times?"

"I'm sorry, I just never saw things that way until now." you apologize softly. "I never realized how little time we get to spend together. But I would like to fix it if you would allow me to."

The hearts shrink in size as you gently cup his overheating face, his blush looks painfully deep as you press your lips to his, softly at first, but the kiss quickly turns desperate as you think of all the times Simeon has had to play the good sport.

Although kindness is one of his best traits, you fell in Love with Simeon, not the worn doormat he perceives himself to be at the moment. You love his wit, his creativity, his warmth.

You pour your affections into the kiss, but something feels off.

Your body tingles as you feel your energy being drained from you at a rapid pace. Your arm becomes slack as it falls from Simeon's face and hangs limply.

Your eyes widen as you stare up at Simeon helplessly. A look of Victory on his face as he boops your nose. "Oh come on Darling; You're going to have to give me much more than that."

The doors to the banquet hall part for Solomon as he approaches, but as he sees the nine pairs of eyes on him, he wishes he could be anywhere else at the moment. When the awaiting demons realize it is just him, their eager, hopeful looks turn mostly cold and disinterested.

It stings.

"Diavolo is the first to greet him with a warm smile as the Prince strides over and pats him on the back. "Solomon, I am relieved to see that you have come back to us in one piece~."

"Where's Mc?" Mammon says interrupting his monarch, earring a murderous glare from Barbatos and a thwack to the back of the head from Lucifer.

Exhaling, his thoughts return to you, "Mc…Stayed behind to find Simeon on their own. I offered to help but they felt it was best if they faced him alone. Given the circumstances."

Satan sits up straighter in his chair, "That appears to be the best course of action," he relents. "We all saw Simeon; I fear if he were to run into one of us, he might become violent. But he would never hurt Mc, potion or no potion."

Asmodeus, the only one of the Avatars of Sin Solomon has a pact with, narrows his eyes, and sends the Sorcerer an accusatory glare. "There's something you're not telling us Hon; what is it?"

Signing deeper, he internally curses the demon for seeing through him so quickly. "There is a chance Mc will not be able to break the spell on Simeon with just a kiss. I heard Luke is back at Purgatory Hall working on an antidote as we speak in case they were to fail."

The room goes deathly quiet as everyone recalls Simeon's deranged promises from earlier. If you are at his mercy with no way of breaking the spell, he may have the upperhand and escape the Devildom with you.

"That is serious," Diavolo frowns, addressing the room, "We must find them and restrain Simeon before he does anything he'll regret. Mc's safety takes priority right now."

"Something's wrong," Lucifer says from his seat. "I'm having trouble detecting Mc's presence."

"Has the Dark Angel made his move already?" Levi shudders.

"Did you really give Simeon a nickname at a time like this?" Belphie asks, looking rather irritated. "I'm tired of waiting around while Mc is in danger."

Tired

That one little word causes Solomon's eye to widen as the passage of potion side effects flashes through his mind.

"I know that look," Barbatos says wearily. "What are you thinking about?"

"I think," he says, his mouth bone dry as he speaks. "We need to go find Mc, right now."

Simeon II ~

"Did you really think it was going to be that easy, Mc? Did you really think that I would just throw away the chance to keep you all to myself because of a little kiss?" He asks, his hand rising to gently stroke your cheek, forcing you to stare into his unnerving heart-shaped pupils. The hearts are dilating and constricting so rapidly they look as if they are beating. "I want more…"

"What's going on?" you breathe as Simeon holds your numb body like you're a porcelain doll. "Simeon, why can't I move?"

"Don't worry My Darling. It's not permanent, but this does make our dramatic escape a bit easier for me." He smiles, pressing another kiss onto your forehead as if he is mocking your earlier attempt of breaking the spell. Upon seeing your frightened features, he gently bushes a few strands of hair from your face. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Mc; my heart won't be able to take it."

"What did you do?"

His smile grows wider, "I didn't do anything. The one responsible for the little state of exhaustion you find yourself in, is you."

"Wha~"

"My selfless little love, did you not realize that with each kiss you gave to break the spell, you have been draining your energy?" he asks amusedly. "Or did you believe you were tired from walking all this time?"

"You're right," you say after a moment of contemplation. You have felt the tug of exhaustion but never even considered that breaking the spell would have an effect on you. You really thought you were feeling the effects of stress or not drinking enough water. "But how did you know?"

"Because I see you, Mc," he coos, "The others, time and time again, take advantage of that big, beautiful heart of yours. Let me help you. Let me take you away from all of this so I can worship you the way you deserve to be. Every day will feel like heaven; I will dedicate every waking moment to your rapture; you will be so content, you will never long for anyone else, only me."

He steps closer to the balcony doors as you scream at your tired limbs to move. Your Fingertips twitch slightly, but it's not enough. You need to buy yourself some more time. "Simeon, we can't do this. We can't just leave behind everyone else."

He stops in his tracks, "You don't love me?" he asks, his voice tender with emotion as hurt fills his bewitched eyes. The hearts have stopped beating, but yours aches at the accusation.

"Of course I love you Simeon," you say quickly, the wide, lovesick grin returning to his face at your words. "But I am happy here, and I know you are too. The other~"

"Will never stop using you," he interrupts, not taking his eyes off of you. "Aren't you tired Mc? Every day, you get thrown into the path of danger. And have to be the one to fix it. I saw what Leviathan did to you. I was this close to stepping in and striking him down, but then you broke the spell, And he was back to his pathetic self."

"That was an accident, he wasn't in control of his own actions." You say, coming to the thirdborn's defense. "But I still care about him."

"The others are not different, Beelzebub, Diavolo, Solomon. Their Love does not even compare to what I feel for you." Tears well in Simeon's eyes as he shakes. These words coming out of his mouth are so unkind; there is no way Simeon would say these things about his friends, his former brothers, and Luke, the one who looks up to him like an older brother.

"What about the Love you have for them? These are your friends, your family. How can you turn on them so easily?"

"Because you are~" he pauses, furrowing his brow as he tries to remain focused on his words, on his obsession. It seems that the real Simeon is fighting below the surface, trying to break out of the enchantment. "You are everything to me, the only Love I need. And I will do whatever I can to keep you safe."

He starts to walk out the balcony doors. The cold air makes you shiver as your stomach sinks in despair. You can't fail, not now.

"Simeon, I can't let you do this."

With your remaining energy you reach up to grab his face, kissing him once more, pouring not just your Love into the action, but everything else you possess. With Simeon fighting the battle on the inside, the two of your souls meet at the impact point.

Your muscles go slack as you and Simeon drop to the floor, exhausted. Your lids are heavy as you watch him blink away the hearts in his eyes.

With the fog cleared, he stares down at your weakened form with fear. "Mc? What happened? What did I do?"

"You're back. I'm so relieved." you murmur before you lose consciousness.

Simeon holds you gently, real tears streaming down his cheeks as he sobs out quiet apologies for only you to hear. Although the details come back to him slowly, he knows that he is the one to blame for the state you are in. Alive, but completely drained of energy.

He had brought you back inside from the chilly balcony, allowing his wings to disappear. He does not feel very much like an Angel right now.

A stampede of footsteps approaches and he tenses up, waiting for the consequences of his actions to tear him apart.

Being completely drained of energy is a weird sensation.

You aren't unconscious, but you aren't quite with everyone. Many concerned voices come through your ears, muffled, as if your ears have been stuffed with cotton.

Mammon, as the fastest of the bunch, was the first to come to your side. You recall him sliding across the marble floor, stealing you away from Simeon's trembling arms, trying desperately to shake you awake.

"Why aren't they waking up?" he mumbles, his tone worried, yet angry, and you know he is looking at Simeon.

"They used all their energy," another voice, Solomon, says plainly. "It was a side effect from breaking the spell we were under. I didn't put two and two together at the time, but Mc gave us each a bit of their energy with their kiss."

"I see," Barbatos muses "So that was what was bothering you Solomon."

You feel your body taken carefully from Mammon's arms as you are cradled against a broad chest. Diavolo's voice is comforting in your ear as he whispers. "You did well, Mc; once again, the Devildom is in your debt." his warm power courses through you as you begin to recover a part of your strength.

"But when will they wake up?" Beel asks worriedly. "They need to eat if they want to restore their strength."

"Maybe we should let them sleep," Belphie hums. "That always makes me feel better."

"Yer always sleeping," Mammon sighs.

"I'm awake." You mutter weakly, opening your eyes. You are completely surrounded by your loved ones, the nine demons and the Sorcerer look weary but relieved to see you awake.

"You did it, Hon." Asmo smiles, smoothing your messed up hair. "You saved us all."

"And I'm sure I've never looked better," you quip, earning a warm chuckle from Diavolo and the others, but you notice something just out of the corner of your eye. "Oh Simeon.."

Simeon watches you from afar, still on the floor. When he notices you looking at him, he quickly averts his gaze, ashamed of his actions under the spell.

Seeing him like this breaks your heart. Sensing your distress, Lucifer breaks away from the group. You watch as he walks over to Simeon and extends a hand to his former brother. "Come on," he says, "Mc should spend the rest of the day with everyone they care about."

You nod encouragingly to Diavolo to set you down as Simeon takes Lucifer's hand, getting slowly to his feet. His steps are small as he approaches. "How are you feeling?" he asks softly.

You wrap your arms around him, and he relaxes under your gentle touch. "A little tired, but I'm glad that everything is back to normal."

"I'm relieved to hear you say that. But words cannot express how sorry I am for putting you through all that." he begins, this time looking around at everyone. "The potion seemed to feed on my inner insecurities, twisting my desires and taking control of my body, please believe me that the words I was saying were not entirely my own."

"I am sure we all said things we didn't mean," Diavolo shudders, recalling his earlier behavior, "But I promise you that no one here is at liberty to pass judgment.

"Even so, you were an amazing Final Boss Simeon." Levi gushes, the respect he has for his idol not diminished in the slightest.

"Oh, well thank you Leviatan." Simeon replies. "Perhaps this will make for an entertaining plot in my next novel. Perhaps you could assist me with the details."

Levi looks so overjoyed he is about to faint, so you step in, taking Simeon's hand and giving it a squeeze, "I'm just glad we are all together now."

"Does that mean we can get back to the feast?" Beel asks hopefully. "I'm starving."

"What else is new?" Satan sighs, turning his attention to you. "You had us worried, you have to stop doing that."

"Speaking of worried." Barbatos adds with a frown. "Where is Luke?"

"Oh my," Solomon pales. "In the excitement, I forgot to contact him when I arrived at the banquet hall. Should I go find him and tell him that the spell has broken?"

"Poor Chihuahua, he must be freakin out right now." Mammon sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Perhaps you should go get him, Mammon," Lucifer says.

"I'm here," a small voice calls, pushing through the doors.

Luke pants hunched over, holding a small glass vial close to his chest. "I got the antidote."

"You created an antidote all by yourself?" Simeon asks, coming over to crouch next to his out-of-breath companion. "I am so proud of you, Luke."

"Me too," you hum, coming to the other side of him.

He preens under your praise but looks around the room, counting each individual with a frown. "Wait… Is everyone back to normal? What did I miss?"

The room falls silent as everyone glances at each other awkwardly, not wanting to discuss the more intimate details of your afternoon with the Little Angel.

"Mc was able to break the spell," Babatos answers simply. "But your alchemic success will not go unnoticed, I'll see to it that you receive extra credit in your chemistry class."

Luke's cheeks burn crimson at Barbatos' compliment. "R-really?"

"Absolutely, you did well Luke," you say kindly. "But I am sorry for not contacting you, I fell into the pool and my DDD was ruined."

"My bad," Levi mutters, his face turning redder than Lukes.

Diavolo, being the diplomat he is, claps his hands together. "Since we are all together now, I saw we all return to the banquet hall and enjoy the rest of the party. I believe Mc would enjoy some rest and refreshments."

"No more cookies though," Asmodues chuckles, sending you a playful wink. "I don't think Mc could handle any more excitement today."

"I'll dispose of them personally when we get back to the banquet hall," Lucifer promises you, placing his hand on your lower back, "But I will make sure to reward you for your efforts when you regain your strength."

"Hey, stop flirtin' with 'em, Lucifer," Mammon grumbles, yanking you away from the firstborn. "They've had enough of that today."

Mephisto (Bonus) ~

Although the President of the RAD Newspaper Club heard that today, Lord Diavolo had thrown together a private celebration in your honor and canceled his many appointments, he still decided to stop by the castle.

There is a large, elegantly wrapped present in his hands as he walks eagerly toward the banquet hall. Imagining the look of surprise on your face when you see that he has brought you some of your favorite gifts.

Presenting you with such a gift would surely make the Noble Demon look better in the eyes of his Prince.

It certainly isn't because he has feelings for you or anything like that.

It's just politics… or so he tells himself.

Checking his reflection in the hallway mirror just outside of the banquet hall. He readjusts his tie and smoothes out his hair, making it look just so.

With no attendants on duty, the doors open for him, magically revealing, much to his disappointment, an empty room.

'Where is everyone?' he murmurs, scanning the room. The tables are filled with food, and there is a large, unopened pile of gifts by the fireplace, but none of the attendees are around to enjoy them.

The dark hum of magic fills the room causing the demon to turn to the end table, where a small plate of heart-shaped cookies sits innocently seeingly appeared out of thin air.

"Strange," he says to himself observing the platter. The warm smell tantalizes his nose, and he is reminded of the sweet vanilla fragrance you wore to the ball the other night. "I wonder…"

He looks around sheepishly, hoping no one observes his little lapse in self-control. He had been taught by his governess from a young age that it is rude to take food from a gathering he wasn't invited to.

But he can't help it.

Raising the cookie to his lips, he takes a bite.

Tagging; @pixelcafe-network

#obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me #Diavolo x reader #Barbatos x reader #Simeon x reader #Solomon x reader #Lucifer x reader #x reader

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