#trivia you never asked for but got anyway

[sorrygotthesesacks]

… ok?

[dawntheduckrb]

Home from my trip, I managed to navigate the city capitol interstate in the dark+rain mostly on my own :D (not without a death grip on my steering wheel the whole time, but that's okay)

Wasn't actually able to take any pictures, which is rare bc I usually come back from trips with at least 20. All I got was a picture of a miniature deck of cards I won in a game and the pretty state welcome sign on my way back in (taken with no other vehicles around me but my dad's, of course) (and theres one of these at every possible entrance to the state so i dont think this really says where i was at). Trip blab in tags but tldr; it was fun :)

[mayasaurusss]

"You like that?"

Inspired by Lottie getting chocked in the new teaser...don't judge me.

Contains: transfem Lottie, gn reader

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes inside the cabin's attic, muffled sounds and moans coming from both of you as you move against your lover. Lottie, underneath you, skin darkening around the cheeks and sweat trailing down her temple moans, sighs and whimpers as you ride her to her well deserved little death.

Ever since the crash, hell, maybe even before it, Lottie has been very open and lovely with you. At first you though that she was just begin nice to you, since you were new on the team, but after a while, you two became friends. As much as you could be friends with her anyways. You found out she was a very busy woman, and even if she did sometimes asked you to join her and the rest of the team -you were too shy at the time to fully loose up- you never found the time to develop your friendship more than the three hours a day during practice.

But something changed after the crash. Whether it was her need to be close to someone or a sincere interest over you, you and Lottie became close. Closer than ever, actually, sometimes attracting the envious eyes of your other teammates.

Both of you bonded over your hobbies, music and movies, trivia -a thing that you found Lottie liked to talk about,a lot- and books. And through the wilderness you had started to rely on each other so much, that with time, your affections turned into lingering touches and shy looks. You two became lovers into the chaos that was the aftermath of the crash, two pillars for one another. It was a cold November evening when you two kissed for the first time. The wind was strong against the cabin's outer walls, snow pressing against the window and ice forming at it's base. You had spent that afternoon in Lottie's embrace, fighting the cold biting at your skin. Everyone was asleep by the fire, cuddled up together, but neither you not Lottie slept. She had her body pressed against yours, gently lulling you to sleep by warming you. When your eyes begun to close, she snuggled her nose near yours, without even thinking about it, and before long, you threw your arms at her neck and kissed her tenderly.

When the air between you two finally grew thick with need, you couldn't keep you hands to yourself anymore, and neither could she.

You had noticed for a while how she looked at you with a different light in her eyes. How she lingered on your curves for a bit too long, how the flesh of her cheeks darkned when you were near her, how she became all fidgety and shy when you talked to her. It has always been clear -at least to everyone else beside you two- that there was something between you and Lottie.

"Hey..." she came to you one afternoon, when the heat of sunrays melted the snow on the window. "Lottie? What is it?" you were shoveling the snow off of the door at the best of your abilities, teeth pressed tightly. Lottie on the other hand didn't seem too affected by the cold, but that maybe was because she had been inside up until this point. "I wanted to tell you... that I really enjoy your company" she seemed fidgety and uncharacteristically shy, a side of her character that only surfaced while she was with you. "Oh...I really like your company too, Lot". You got back to shoveling away, but she remained at your side. "I meaan... I really like your company. I like you. And we kissed. So..." the way those words were pronounced and the faint red on her cheeks made you realize what the subtex really was.

She rubbed her thighs over and over again, trying to make her bulge less noticeable but failing miserably to do so.

"So...could we, you know..." her voice dropped in the last syllable, vocal chords barely holding on the sound in her throat. She looked so cute, so beautiful with the reflection of the snow in her eyes. And how could you say no to her?

So here you are: in the attic, with your hands on Lottie's throat while bouncing on her dick. The cold is seeping in from the outside and affecting your lovemaking, but the heat your bodies produce is enough to warm both of you. Lottie sits naked under you, a blanket between her and the floor. She had the thoughtfulness of making a little "nest" for you two to be comfortable. The others have her a weird look when she asked for more blankets and pillows, but ignore what they would be needed for. The sound of humping above their heads is enough to make them guess, you think.

"Fuck...oh baby, fuck..." Lottie's eyes roll back, her hands gripping at your hips and shaking. She feels weak underneath you, strenght leaving her everytime she sinks back inside. "Please...please, slow down a moment, or I am going to..." her pleas fall on deaf ears when your hips fall back repeatedly on her own's, even doubling your efforts and moving faster and faster, making her exhale every breath from her lungs. She can't help but be estatich when you take her faster, almost delirious; maybe she did hope you were not going to listen to her.

She can already feel herself bursting, skin tingling and brain empty. Her please and whimpers get erratic, exhaling so loudly you're sure someone knows what you two are up to.

"Lottie! Shut up!" you say, kneeling over her body so that you are face to face with her. Without even thinking about it, you place your hands at either side of her neck, lightly pressing on her throat. "Just-! Be quiet! The others might-" you quickly shut up when you see the look on Lottie's face: her blush has spreaded on her shoulders, her eyes are humid and she looks at you with such adoration and eagerness that your heart hurts.

Something inside of you suggests what that look means, and just to try, or maybe to tease and torture her, you clench down on her cock while tightening your grip on her neck. You watch as a long and loud whine escapes her throat, eyes rolling back and hips chasing you upwards, impaling you on her length and making you fall over her, loosening your grip over her.

"So...you like that..." Lottie just whines and shudders, protesting the lack of movement on your part. "Yeah? Don't worry baby..." you roll your hips downward, making Lottie moan loudly, a bead of precum falling from your entrance on her crotch, "I am going to give you the time of your life".

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝜗𝜚 𝒽𝓎𝓊𝑔𝑜

We’re back again with the “type of boyfriend” headcanons—this time for the best baby boy in TKATB. That’s right, it’s finally Hyugo’s turn. People have been asking for him (loudly), and since there’s barely any content on this chaotic rooftop menace, I figured... fine. It’s time.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

Also, I was only gone for like two weeks and suddenly y’all hit me with 1K followers—??? Why?? T-T

I’m not even a consistent writer, I just be vanishing like a ghost with commitment issues. But seriously, thank you. I’ll try to get to your requests after finals, once my brain cells recover from the academic warfare.

Anyway, writing him? Pain. He’s sweet, playful, has beef with the college, possibly a knife in his back pocket 24/7, and still manages to be boyfriend-coded. Balancing all that? Not easy—especially studying for finals kicking me in the face. But even while dying academically, I think I’ve got a solid grasp on him now.

Honestly? I might just become the main Hyugo writer. 

Someone has to. Let’s get into it.

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

Let’s be clear—Hyugo was the one catching feelings first.

The boy was already gone for you long before you realized what was happening. In the game, it’s mentioned he has a “certain crush,” and the way he stares a little too long or makes offhand comments about how you “remind him of someone”?

Yeah. That someone is you.

He doesn’t confess right away, though. That’s not his style. Instead, he lingers around you more often, steals your pen to “borrow it” even though he never returns it, pulls you into weird places like the rooftop “just because,” and randomly brings up your name in conversations with Sol—pretending it’s no big deal. (Spoiler: it is.)

✑ Unpredictable Lover (But With Bite)

Hyugo doesn’t ease into love. He trips, stumbles, and full-body slams into it like a cartoon character hitting a wall—and then laughs about it while nursing emotional whiplash. One minute you’re just the guy who shares notes or laughs at his dumb trivia. 

The next? He’s looking at you like you invented gravity.

When the MC reminded him of his old crush? That was it. Game over. His brain short-circuited and fully convinced itself you were his soulmate. Not in a clingy way (okay, maybe a little clingy), but in that wide-eyed, heart-hammering, "Oh, you're real? You're mine?" kind of way.

It’s not even subtle. If Sol’s the type to bottle everything up until it explodes, Hyugo’s just… holding the bottle upside down, watching it pour, and asking if you want a sip. He’ll tell you he likes you in the most offhand, dramatic, heart-melting ways—laughing as if it’s no big deal while simultaneously dying inside.

“I like you too much. It’s annoying.” cue deflection into food talk like he didn’t just ruin your emotional stability for the week

He’s drawn to people who get him—the weird parts, the unpredictable schedule, the random ass facts at 3 a.m., the way he vanishes and reappears with rare cassettes or bags of stolen berries like a chaotic little cryptid boyfriend. People who don’t try to "fix" him, but instead hand him a spoon and ask to share dessert.

He doesn’t do patterns. Doesn’t do expectations. What he does do is follow his gut, sprint into romantic territory like it’s a speedrun, and somehow still make you feel like the center of the universe—his odd little galaxy.

One day he’s got your favorite fruity snack in hand, saying, “Skip class with me. I found a crime documentary we can heckle together.” The next? He’s ghosted for two days. No texts. No calls. Reappears like nothing happened, dumps a bag of cassette tapes in your lap, and mutters, “They sounded like you. Messy but good.”

His version of sweet nothings?

“If I threatened the dean, do you think I’d get expelled or promoted?”

What.

Anyway, Hyugo’s idea of a confession is the kind of thing that makes you pause for a full ten seconds wondering if he just insulted you or proposed.

Like the time he sauntered over to you with a slice of cake in a paper napkin, tossed it on your desk, and casually said:

“I got this cake the other day and it reminded me of you. It was horrible—like, truly disgusting—but really pretty to look at.”

And then he smiled.

Not even sheepishly. Just smug. Like he thought he was being romantic.

And somehow? It kind of was.

Because beneath the trolling and chaotic delivery, there’s a genuine, rare honesty. That cake? It was real. He hated it—but he thought about you. He bought it thinking about you. He shared it, thinking that even if it sucked, he wanted you to be part of the joke, part of the moment. And that’s what Hyugo does. He doesn’t wrap his feelings in a bow—he throws them at you like a dodgeball and laughs when you flinch.

But that’s the thing: Hyugo’s love isn’t elegant. It’s not scheduled. It’s messy, spontaneous, way-too-loud, and utterly sincere. One day he’s skipping class to show you a crime documentary he downloaded illegally off a sketchy website, and the next, he’s vanished for 48 hours without a word. Then he returns like nothing happened, hands you a crumpled bag of sweets and pretty flowers and mutters:

“I don’t know. These felt like you.”

He doesn’t believe in doing things the “right” way. He believes in feeling. And if being with you makes his heart do that hiccup thing in his chest? He’s going to chase that.

His affection isn’t routine—it’s a riot. He’ll flirt by arguing with you about fictional crimes. He’ll compliment you by comparing you to garbage-eating birds. He’ll confess his feelings mid-snack, while chewing.

“I like you too much, it’s annoying. Can you pass the chips?”

And honestly? It’s kind of perfect.

Because Hyugo doesn’t do romance the normal way—he does it his way. Unhinged. Blunt. Endearing in the most unpredictable fashion.

If you can survive the whiplash of dating someone who gifts you detective movie posters, late-night existential rants, and a stolen plush frog from the student store—He’s already yours.

Sidenote, now thinking about—Let’s just say… if Sol finds out Hyugo has feelings for the MC too?

Sol is the type to internalize every emotion until it calcifies. He doesn’t say he’s upset—he just stiffens around you, goes quiet, disappears from hangouts, and starts writing darker poetry. But make no mistake: he sees everything. And Hyugo? He’s not subtle. Not even a little.

Hyugo would catch on instantly. He’d tease Sol. Not maliciously—more like poking a sleeping wolf with a stick to see if it barks.

“You’re awfully quiet, Sol. Something bothering you?”

leans a little too close to MC

“Or someone?”

And maybe he laughs. Maybe he makes a show of being the light-hearted one. But behind all that noise is a sharp, protective loyalty—Hyugo’s jokes are weapons, and he’ll use them to keep the people he cares about close.

He might pretend to flirt just to mess with Sol.

But when it comes to you? He’s serious. Hyugo doesn’t play around with the things that make his heartbeat go crooked.

If you’re the one who makes him feel free—if you accept all his chaos without trying to change him—he’ll give you everything. The good, the bad, the oddly sweet bird-themed analogies. The ugly truths he doesn’t tell anyone else.

Because once Hyugo falls?

He falls all the way. No brakes. No caution tape. No escape plan.

Just you, and a heart too loud to ignore.

✑ Smart but Soft (and a lil scary)

Hyugo’s the type who confuses people on purpose. He’s top of the class one day, doesn’t show up the next. Cracks the most complicated equation in five minutes, then sticks googly eyes on the school vending machine and blames it on aliens.

Some say he’s a delinquent. Some say he’s a genius. All anyone really knows is that Hyugo always gets things done. He’s reliable.

Strangely so. You call him at 3AM with a crisis? He shows up.

You’re in tears over nothing? He distracts you with candy and half a conspiracy theory. He’s not ashamed of affection either—not even a little. 

Hyugo doesn’t care who’s watching when he grabs your hand in the hallway, when he hugs you from behind, or when he loudly calls you embarrassing pet names in front of Sol, or pretty much anyone.

Yeah. He's that guy.

But there’s something… off about him too.

Not in a bad way. Just—off. Like, he’s always smiling. Always laughing. But sometimes you catch that flicker in his eyes that’s just a bit too sharp. Sometimes his grin feels like it’s hiding something sharp behind it. Something practiced. Like he's worn that mask for years and just got good at making it look natural.

And the truth is? You’ve seen things.

Once, after class, you were heading toward the train station shortcut—an alleyway behind the older school buildings. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the voice that echoed off the brick stopped you cold. It was rough. Deep. Too serious. Too cold. Not Hyugo’s voice.

“If I catch you touching her again, I’ll carve out your throat and make you apologize with your last breath. Say ‘thank you’ for the warning.”

And then you saw him.

Hyugo. Your Hyugo.

Back pressed to some guy’s chest, hand gripping his jaw like he’d snap it clean. Not smiling. Not even blinking. Calm in a way that felt unnatural. There was a flick-knife in his hand. The same one he later used to peel an apple while lying on your floor like it never happened.

And what did you do? Nothing. You minded your business.

Like, what were you supposed to say? “Hey, babe, nice threats today! Who was the guy? Should I be worried?” Because how do you ask someone if they’re dangerous when they’re laying in your lap, pressing absentminded kisses to the inside of your wrist? When he’s curled up beside you with all his warmth and nicknames and that childish excitement in his voice whenever he finds a weird bug or sees a raccoon?

How do you bring it up when he's sweet?

When he traces your knuckles with the same fingers that curled around a knife so naturally. When he leans into your neck and mumbles, “You smell like strawberries,” like it’s a confession.

When he tells you, “Don’t ever leave me, okay?” in a tone too soft to be anything but sincere. That duality is what makes Hyugo dangerous. And irresistible.

He’s smart. Very smart. Too smart, maybe.

But beneath that chaotic, happiness-bomb energy, there’s a darkness he doesn't talk about. A history he won’t explain. All you get are glimmers—warnings painted in pretty smiles and sugar-sweet kisses. And maybe he isn’t an assassin. Maybe he just knows how to handle himself. Maybe he is too cute for that sort of thing. ...Right? Or maybe the same hands that cup your cheeks gently could, without hesitation, end someone who hurt you.

And maybe—just maybe—that’s why you feel safest right next to him.

✑ Certified Cling Wrap™

Hyugo’s a walking paradox.

He’s an extrovert, yeah. The guy who can light up a room just by showing up, who always has something weirdly fascinating to say ("Did you know slugs have four noses?"). The type who remembers everyone’s birthday, even if he doesn’t show up to class half the time. He’s fun. Loud. Chaotic.

But when it comes down to it?

There’s nowhere he’d rather be than with you.

He’d trade a party for your couch in a heartbeat. Scratch that—he wouldn’t even consider the party if you were available. You could literally say, “I’m thinking of watching a movie tonight,” and he’d be like:

“Say less. I’m bringing snacks.”

He just wants to exist in your space. Quiet or loud, chaotic or cozy, rainy or sunlit—if you’re in it, that’s where Hyugo wants to be. And when he’s there? Prepare to lose all personal space rights.

Hyugo is Certified Cling Wrap™

Affectionate in the most relentless, devoted way. He’s the kind of guy who:

Will sit on the floor beside you just so he can lean his head against your thigh while you're working.

Wraps his arms around your waist from behind while you’re cooking, swaying with you and humming some dumb made-up song about your hair smelling good.

Steals your hoodies even though he already has a closet full of his own (“Yours smell like comfort and bad decisions.”).

Sleeps like a cat in a sunbeam—curled up on you, gripping your shirt with a soft little snore in your ear.

He doesn’t care if your hair’s a mess, or if you’ve said three words all day. To him, that’s the dream. A quiet afternoon, curled up together under a blanket, him reading some wild conspiracy thread aloud like it’s bedtime poetry, your legs tangled under the coffee table—that’s his definition of paradise.

And it’s not just physical closeness.

It’s emotional, too. Hyugo pays attention.

He notices when your laugh doesn’t sound real. When your “I’m fine” isn’t. When you’re holding back tears or trying to carry more than you should. And in his own strange, lovable way, he makes it better. Sometimes it’s through chaos—dragging you out of bed at 2AM for gas station candy and an illegal rooftop view of the cityline. Maybeee say for a bit to sun rise.

Sometimes it’s through comfort—sneaking in your favorite drink with a dumb note taped to it (“Drink this or perish.”).

And sometimes, it’s just… silence.

Him resting beside you, letting his fingers run lazy circles on your arm while you process whatever’s weighing you down. Not asking for anything. Just being there.

Hyugo’s the guy who’ll whisper “I love you” into your hair when he thinks you’re asleep, just to be safe. Who calls you nicknames like he’s been doing it his whole life—“bug,” “babyface,” “sweet disaster,” depending on the mood.

Who holds your hand like it grounds him.

And maybe he’s a little too clingy. Maybe he gets pouty when you’re not around. Maybe he whines into your voicemail if you ignore his texts for too long (“I’ve withered like an unloved plant. You better come water me or I’m dying dramatically.”).

But that clinginess? It’s love. Undeniable. Raw. Real. Because Hyugo doesn’t just want to be with you. He wants to build with you. A life. A routine. A weird little bubble of shared chaos and safety and inside jokes that no one else understands.

You’re his home. Not the apartment, not the school rooftop, not the alleyways where he sometimes does questionable things.

You.

And he’ll remind you in a hundred little ways, every single day.

✑ The Ass Silly Flirt

Hyugo flirts like it’s a full-time job and he's trying to get promoted.

He’s not smooth about it either—he’s annoying. Like, he’ll text you “thinking of you 😘” and then immediately follow it up with a picture of a traffic cone wearing a wig with the caption: “This u?”

And the worst part? You laugh or offended. Every time.

He texts you non-stop, like you're both in some private group chat that never shuts up. No context. No warning. Just raw, unfiltered Hyugo brain static 24/7:

“Do you think ghosts get boners?”

“Be honest would I survive if I just ate bubblegum and vibes for a week.”

“I saw a pigeon with a limp today and now I’m emotionally compromised.”

Mid-class, 3AM, during a fire drill—he does not care. You’re getting these texts whether you're ready or not.

And the memes? OH, THE MEMES.

Hyugo’s meme game is so strong it’s criminal. He’s got folders. Archives. A whole reaction gif arsenal like he’s been preparing for emotional warfare. He sends one for every situation, no matter how inappropriate.

You text him “I’m sad.”

He sends a gif of SpongeBob playing the world’s smallest violin and follows it up with “come cuddle or perish, dramatic ass.”

It’s his love language.

He doesn’t know how to say “I care about you deeply” like a normal person—he just sends you 38 TikToks in a row and expects you to watch them all immediately and react to each one like you’re being graded.

Now. Let’s talk about The Streak™.

Y’all have had a TikTok streak going for months. At this point, it’s longer than some people’s relationships. It is sacred. And if you break it? Hyugo will take it personally. You think he’s kidding? No. This man will hit you with voice notes that sound like break-up letters. 

“Hey. So. I noticed we haven’t exchanged any TikToks in the last… 14 hours. Are you okay? Are we okay? Just let me know if you hate me now. It’s fine. I’ll just go stare out a rainy window like a Victorian widow.” You better send something—anything—before he starts live-posting his descent into madness.

Speaking of voice notes?

He loves those. You open your phone and there’s just a five-minute recording of him rambling while pacing his room like a raccoon hopped up on sugar.

“Okay so listen—I saw this guy trip on the sidewalk and somehow launch his phone into a trash can, and I SWEAR it was cinematic. Like, Academy Award level physics. Anyway I thought of you. Wanna get dinner?”

Or sometimes it’s just him humming some random song he heard in the background of a YouTube ad and begging:

“Can you find this song? Please. I’m in shambles. I don’t have Shazam and my dignity won’t survive me asking a stranger.” And you do find it. Because you love him. And because you’ve accepted that being in love with Hyugo means acting as his personal Google assistant and meme judge.

Hyugo doesn’t flirt to impress. He flirts to torment. To tease.

To infect your brain like a catchy song and live there rent-free until you’re giggling like an idiot alone in your room just because he sent you a picture of a cat with bad bangs and said, “our child if we never discipline them.”

He’s a menace. A menace with heart eyes and a clingy streak. 

He’s the kind of guy who’d write “I love you” on a bathroom mirror with lip balm and then blame it on ghosts. The type who’d kiss you mid-sentence just to watch you stutter. Who’d steal your charger but bring you snacks to “make up for it” and then never give the charger back.

In short: He’s loud. Annoying. Borderline illegal levels of clingy.

But he’s yours. And that’s kinda the best part.

✑ Tailored to You

— Words of Affirmation?

Hyugo speaks your praises like he’s reciting scripture from a holy book only he knows how to read. 

It’s constant. Casual. Deadpan-delivered and terrifyingly sincere.

You’ll be mid-rant about your day and he’ll just go:

“You're the smartest person I know, and I hang out with Sol. That man knows Latin and still doesn’t know how to say sorry. Meanwhile, you? You breathe and my brain goes ‘yeah, this is the one.’”

Sometimes he insults you, sure, but in that “I’m obsessed with you but emotionally stunted” way.

“You make me want to be a better man. Unfortunately, I’m lazy and emotionally unhinged, so you’re stuck with this version of me. Congrats.”

And don’t even think about crying in front of him. He’ll switch from “hey sexy” to “you are the most brilliant, beautiful, badass person I’ve ever met” so fast it’ll give you emotional whiplash.

— Acts of Service?

Hyugo would absolutely walk into a war zone with nothing but your to-do list and a Monster energy drink and say, “Don't worry babe, I got it.”

He’ll do your homework shockingly he’s smart asf while you nap, call customer service on your behalf (“Hi yes, my partner’s about to commit murder over a billing error, please help”), and will not let you carry your own bag if he’s around.

Did your phone die? Suddenly, his is at 92% and in your hands.

Craving something? It’s on your bed before you even finish the sentence.

Exhausted? He’s already drawing you a bath and setting a snack tray like he’s your overworked but loyal butler who’s also in love with you.

He doesn’t even act like it’s a big deal. He just shrugs and says:

“If you’re good to me, I gotta be good back. That’s the rule.”

— Receiving Gifts?

He gives gifts like he’s on a scavenger hunt where the prize is your smile. They’re not always expensive—but they are weirdly specific.

A ring from a claw machine he swears “vibes with your aura.”

A charm bracelet/ring/necklace with tiny objects representing inside jokes only the two of you understand.

An old book with your favorite quote already highlighted, because he “happened to see it and thought of you.”

A dumb little vending machine toy he’s convinced is your new emotional support trinket. And the wrapping? Forget it. He’ll give it to you in a paper towel and say,

“Presentation is for cowards. Love is raw and weird. Take it.”

— Quality Time?

This man thrives on being around you.

Not even doing anything, just existing in your orbit. He’ll lay sideways across your bed like a lizard sunbathing while you read. He’ll follow you from room to room like a haunted but affectionate cat. You’re watching a movie? He's not even watching—he’s watching you watch it. “You scrunch your nose when you get invested. It’s cute. I like it. Shut up and let me admire you.”

Wanna nap together? He’s already curled up next to you.

Want to work in silence? He’ll bring snacks and just vibe, occasionally sending you memes while sitting 3 feet away.

Your time? His favorite gift of all time. 

— Physical Touch?

Oh you want space? Too bad, babe.

Hyugo is basically a heated blanket with limbs. 

He’s all over you—shoulder leans, back hugs, thigh squeezes, lap pillows, forehead touches, neck nuzzles. He’s like Velcro with feelings. He has zero shame. “You’re soft and warm and smell like my favorite person, why wouldn’t I be on top of you right now?” And yes, those hands? Again, the same ones that once threatened someone in an alleyway after class?

Those are the ones that cup your face so gently it makes your stomach flip.

That brush your hair behind your ear. That hold your hand even in public, especially in public, with a smug little grin like he’s bragging silently: “Yeah. This is mine.”

In conclusion, Hyugo doesn’t just love you in five languages.

He’s practically multilingual in affection—loud, devoted, and unfiltered. Tailored to you. Perfectly chaotic. Inescapably real.

Want to cry a little about it later? Yeah. Me too.

✑ Tailored to Him

— Words of Affirmation?

Hyugo thrives on your praise like it’s oxygen laced with espresso.

Tell him he’s smart? He’ll preen. Tell him he’s handsome? He’ll smirk and pull you into a kiss so sweet it tastes like a dare. But whisper to him, all soft and serious, “I’m proud of you” or “You make me feel safe” and he short circuits. Full-body blush. Ears red. Eyes everywhere but on you.

He might laugh it off, say something dumb like,

“Babe, stop it, I’ll fall harder and it’s already embarrassing out here…”

But he replays your words over and over in his head. He craves your approval like it’s sacred. He doesn’t want empty compliments—he wants real ones, the ones you mean. The ones that come out when you think he’s not listening, but he always is. He remembers your voice in detail. 

If you say something sweet in the morning, expect him to bring it up casually three days later like it didn’t melt his heart into syrup.

— Physical Touch? 

Let’s not play.

He’s got the soft hands, the smug smirk, the “come here and sit in my lap while I tell you about this video game I saw played last night” voice. But under that cuddly, somewhat short golden retriever exterior is a problem in the best way.

He’ll touch you constantly—absently tugging your fingers, nosing at your neck, kissing your knuckles like some old-timey heartthrob who listens to rap music and fights demons on weekends. Bro what?

But when he wants you? Oh, he wants you.

He leans in close when he talks, voice dropping an octave, and his fingers splay against your hip like he knows what he’s doing. 

When it’s just the two of you, he goes quiet. Focused. His usual chaotic flirty energy simmers down into this heated, steady burn. And God help you if you wear something that shows your skin—because suddenly he’s behind you, dragging his fingertips along your arms, whispering in your ear with that teasing-laced purr like:

“You really gonna look like that around me and act innocent? That’s wild.”

He’s cute. But he’s also lowkey hot in that "I’d ruin you with love and cheek kisses and then also maybe leave scratch marks you didn’t know you liked" kind of way.

— Quality Time?

Hyugo’s a social creature, yeah—but you? You’re home.

He could be surrounded by people, laughing at memes, bouncing from conversation to conversation—but the moment you walk in, he shifts. Eyes locked. Energy redirected. Like you’re his true north in a galaxy of distractions.

He doesn't need an occasion. Doesn’t need a plan.

He’s the kind of guy who shows up at your door with snacks, a blanket, and zero expectations other than being near you.

Spending time with you recharges him. Whether it's lying in bed watching weird documentaries, going on midnight walks, or sitting on rooftops eating vending machine junk food—if it’s with you? 

It’s worth it.

He memorizes your routines, your reactions, your sleepy habits. He makes mental notes like:

“They like their tea a little sweeter at night.”

“They squint when reading—they need a lamp, I’ll buy one.”

“They hum that one song while brushing their teeth—learn that on guitar maybe?”

Time isn’t just time with Hyugo. It’s devotion made casual. It’s “I choose you” in every second. It’s you matter most, no matter what else I could be doing.

So yeah. Hyugo’s a mess. But he’s your mess.

He’s a walking contradiction of softness and chaos, affection and absurdity. He loves in ways that feel like warm thunderstorms—loud, unexpected, but still soothing if you know how to listen. And when he loves you, he tailors it perfectly.

Words that lift you up. Touches that say "stay." Time that says “you’re all I need.”

He’s all in. And he’ll make damn sure you feel it.

✑ Joystick Jerk 

Oh, Hyugo’s a gamer gamer.

Not some flashy streamer, not a try-hard clout chaser—no face cam, no Twitch, no mic unless it’s Discord with you or the inner circle. He doesn’t stream, and when you asked why, he just shrugged and said something cryptic like:

“Gotta keep some parts of me hidden, y’know? Too many eyes makes the game less fun.”

Which like… okay. Cool. Normal people say that.

Totally not suspicious. Definitely not assassin-coded behavior. Definitely didn’t say that while sharpening a pocketknife and humming anime opening themes under his breath.

But listen, the man’s cracked at every game you throw at him. FPS? Headshots for days. Fighting games? You blink, you lose. Racing? Don’t even try it. Even rhythm games? He gets full combos and doesn’t even break a sweat. He’s got the focus of someone who’s either a pro… or someone who’s trained their hand-eye coordination to kill a man in silence.

And worst of all? He always wants to play with you. 

And when I say always, I mean always.

“Babe, let’s do co-op, I’ll carry you.”

“Play a round with me? C’mon, I’ll give you a kiss every time you die.”

“If I win, you have to say I’m hot. If you win… okay that’s never gonna happen, but I’ll still say you’re hot.” It’s cute at first. Until you realize he never loses. Not unless he lets you win.

And yes—you noticed.

He tries to act slick about it. Pretends he “accidentally” missed that final hit or “slipped” during the last lap. But the smug look on his face gives it away every damn time.

You: “You let me win, didn’t you.”

Hyugo, grinning: “What? No way. You’re just getting better. Natural talent. Gamer instincts. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you—”

You: “I’m going to delete your save file.”

Hyugo: “Wait—WAIT I’M SORRY—”

There was a time you swore off gaming with him completely. “Sore loser? Absolutely. Certified D1 crash-out? No shame.” But lately, he’s been playing way too much.

Like… you come over and he barely looks up from his screen. Just tosses a lazy “hey babe” and keeps mashing buttons like his life depends on it. Sometimes he forgets to eat. Sometimes he forgets you’re in the room.

So what do you do? Be normal? Communicate?

Nah. You’re evil.

Beautifully, diabolically evil.

Let’s say one day, Hyugo’s deep into a match. He’s playing some online team shooter with Sol, both of them barking callouts like seasoned war generals. His voice smooth and laser-focused as he barks commands into his mic. The screen flashes with rapid gunfire, his fingers a blur over the keyboard. He’s locked in, absolutely locked in—with that deadly kind of concentration that makes you want to ruin it.

So naturally, you do.

You drop to your knees without a word and slip under his desk, the soft whir of his PC fans the only warning he gets.

At first, he doesn’t notice. At first.

Your fingers trail up his calf, slow and innocent.

Then not so innocent. You press your palms to his thighs, feel the twitch under your hands. And when you start fiddling with the buttons of his pants, he pauses—just for a second.

His voice stutters.

“Y—yeah, flank left—mnn—flank, I meant flank! Just—move, damn it!”

Sol’s voice crackles through the headset, confused: “Yo, you good?”

Hyugo clears his throat with the subtlety of a panicked cat. “Yup. Peachy. Total—nghh—focus.”

You don’t stop. If anything, you get bolder—running your nails along the seam, watching him shift in his seat, those long fingers faltering for just a beat. You don’t even need to look up to know his jaw is clenched, teeth gritted in pure restraint. You can hear it in his breath. Shaky. A little desperate.

Then, finally, a low, bitten-off sound escapes him—a moan. Not loud. But real. Raw. The kind of sound you feel low in your stomach.

“Fuck—” And still? Still he wins the match. Freak of nature. You almost applaud. “GGs, I’m out,” Hyugo mutters into the mic, voice hoarse. “Emergency. Real life critical hit.”

Click. Call ends. Silence.

Before you can even shift, he’s got one arm under your shoulders, dragging you out and straight into his lap. The headset’s tossed somewhere across the desk. The game’s forgotten. All his focus now? On you.

Those baby blue eyes? Sharp. Wicked. Burning.

“You wanna play dirty now?” he breathes, voice low, chest heaving. “You think you can tease me while I play the game with Sol and just walk away?” His hand slides up your thigh, firm and slow.

“Nah, sweetheart. You started this.”

And Hyugo?

Oh, he never leaves a game unfinished.

✑ Sugar, Spice, and Chaos

For someone who lives on the edge of unhinged and adorable, it’s no surprise Hyugo is a menace in the kitchen—but only if it involves sugar. Actual meals? Nah. He either burns them, forgets them on the stove, or looks at savory ingredients like they personally offended him. 

But sweets? Baking? That’s his love language.

He’ll never say it, but there’s something almost calming about it—the measuring, the mixing, the slow transformation of flour and butter into something warm and golden. He’s got a soft spot for berry shortcake, especially ones layered with cream and strawberries. It’s nostalgic, he once said. You don’t press further, but the way he lights up when he tastes it? 

Tells you all you need to know.

So one weekend, he drags you into the kitchen with that signature grin, sleeves rolled up, apron tied (yes, it says “kiss the baker,” yes he wore it on purpose) and says: “Today, we conquer the cake.”

You start with the cake base—he insists on doing the measuring himself, swearing he has “baker’s intuition.” You don’t argue, even when you notice him eyeballing the flour instead of using the cup.

The moment the batter’s mixed, he tastes it with a spoon like it’s a gourmet meal. Then gives you a spoonful too. 

“Here. For quality control.” It’s… actually amazing.

While it bakes, he turns the kitchen into a war zone of whipped cream, sugar, and cut strawberries. He tries to pipe roses onto parchment and ends up with something that looks suspiciously like a slug.

“Abstract art,” he claims. “Put it in a museum.”

You laugh. He grins wider.

Then comes the fun part—assembling. You’re trying to do it neatly, but Hyugo? He starts feeding you strawberries like some dramatic prince and smearing whipped cream on your nose when you’re not looking.

“Look at you,” he smirks, “cuter than the cake.”

You chase him around the kitchen with a spatula in revenge. It ends in a tie. And a kiss. (With a side of whipped cream.)

Finally, the shortcake’s done—messy, chaotic, but somehow still perfect. Just like him.

The kitchen’s a battlefield of bowls, whipped cream smears, and flour footprints. You’re both a little sticky, a little out of breath from laughing too hard, and the oven’s still faintly warm behind you. Hyugo licks a smudge of berry syrup off his thumb with the same lazy grin that always gets him his way.

You’re sitting on the counter, legs swinging, and he’s nestled between them, sharing forkfuls of cake straight from the dish. His eyes flicker up every time you chew, like he’s not watching the dessert but you enjoying it.

He hums low after a bite, leaning against your shoulder. “I’d burn water for dinner, but damn if I won’t make you the best dessert of your life.”

You snort, licking cream from the side of your lip.

“Cocky much?”

“Confident,” he says, swiping a bit of whipped cream with his finger and tapping it onto the tip of your nose. “But also a little hungry still…”

You tilted your head, lost. “For the cake?”

“Sure,” he smirks, “let’s go with that.”

He kisses it off your nose—soft and teasing. Then off your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth. Each one slower than the last. Until it’s not about the cake anymore.

You reach for the bowl of whipped cream—because why not?—and dip your fingers in it. His eyes track you like prey, curious and wide as you smear a little on the side of your neck. “Oops,” you whisper, “missed a spot.”

Hyugo freezes. Then laughs, soft and dangerous. “Oh, you really wanna start something, huh?”

The next moment is a blur—his hands are on your thighs, spreading them wider around him as he presses closer. His lips find the cream on your neck and he bites—playful at first, then deeper. Your breath catches. That baby blue gaze turns sharp, electric with mischief.

He kisses down your throat, slow and purposeful, tongue chasing the sugar and teeth chasing your pulse. You’re not even sure how the bowl got knocked over, but it doesn’t matter. The spoon clatters to the floor. Your back arches into him.

“Tastes good,” he mutters against your skin, “but you’re sweeter.”

His hands slide up under your shirt, warm and insistent. The cake is long forgotten now, half-eaten and melting beside you. His mouth is busy elsewhere—your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve where your neck meets your jaw. He’s painting you with sugar and heat, and licking every trace away.

You’re not sure who pulls who in first for the kiss, but it’s messy and desperate and just the right amount of wrong. And when he pulls back, panting, pupils blown wide?

“Kitchen’s already trashed,” he grins, voice rough, “might as well finish the job.”

Let’s just say the next round doesn’t involve frosting—but it’s still very much dessert.

✑ Partners in Cosplay (and Crime)

You knew Hyugo liked crime flicks and video games—but this? This was a full-blown obsession.

He’s not just a fan. He’s a geek. Deep in the lore, the trivia, the obscure theories that only like four people on the internet care about—and he’s friends with all four. He’s the kind of guy who can quote entire movie scenes, word for word, with the dramatic voice shifts and everything. One time he paused a shootout scene just to explain the gun model they used and how it’s “totally unrealistic, but looks so fucking cool.” His eyes literally sparkled.

So when convention weekend rolls around? Oh, he’s already packed.

Costume? Secured. Prop weapon? Custom-made.

And when he asks you to go with him? He doesn’t even care who you dress up as—just that you’re there. His partner in crime. Literally.

You pick a character that kinda matches his—maybe one from his favorite show, or the one you think would annoy his the most. Either way, when you step out in your outfit, Hyugo malfunctions. Full on, mouth open, hand to chest, “I think I just fell in love again” levels of dramatic.

You walk the con floor hand-in-hand, him constantly pulling you over to booths like a kid with too much sugar and no parental supervision. 

He buys crime-themed keychains, limited edition figures, posters with ridiculous quotes, and sketches from artist alley like his life depends on it. He compliments cosplayers like a pro—“Damn, that’s clean! Bro, how’d you make the holster?”—and flirts with you every chance he gets. “You look way too good in that outfit. You trying to kill me or get me arrested?”

By the time you get to the hotel, his and yours arms are full of merch bags, his wallet’s empty, and his energy is still sky high.

You barely make it through the door before he’s tossing his stuff onto the couch and pulling you onto the bed with him. 

Still in cosplay, the both of you. 

“Okay but like… what if our characters actually hooked up? For research purposes.”

You raise a brow. “Research?”

He just smirks and leans in closer, fingers already unbuckling whatever fake tactical vest he’s wearing.

“I’m just saying… we could be committing crimes of passion right now. Or passionately committing crimes. Whichever hits harder.”

Before you can reply, his lips are on yours, hands warm and eager as they slide beneath your costume, tugging fabric aside and leaving goosebumps in his wake. He kisses like he’s still acting in character—cocky, sharp, teasing—but with that unmistakable Hyugo sweetness that always slips through.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispers between kisses, “real talk.” And when you end up tangled in a mess of half-off cosplay and breathless laughter, his voice is low and rough in your ear:

“Next year? We’re going all out. Couple cosplay. New characters. New roles. New positions—wait, did I say that last one out loud?”

You’re pretty sure he’s still joking… mostly.

✑ He’s Pansexual (lil angst)

Hyugo is pansexual—genuinely and unapologetically so.

He doesn’t care if someone’s masculine, feminine, both, neither, fluid, strange, loud, quiet, or something the world hasn’t learned how to label yet. If he’s drawn to you, it’s because you’re you—your voice, your presence, the way you move through a room, the look in your eyes when you’re focused, angry, glowing, grieving. He falls in love with essence, not gender.

“I don’t give a damn what you are on paper,” he once told you, head resting on your stomach, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “I like what you are to me. And that? That’s something nobody else gets to have.”

He says it so confidently, like it’s not even up for debate. 

Because it isn’t. But love—real love—terrifies him.

Hyugo plays it cool, because he’s always been good at pretending. But when he lets himself really care for someone? It unlocks this whole hidden, trembling part of him that he usually buries beneath bad jokes and gaming trash talk. That part of him that lies awake sometimes, staring at the ceiling, scared out of his goddamn mind that one day the world might take you away from him.

“I don’t… live a quiet life,” he admitted once, when things between you were still new, still fragile. “I got people who know my name and don’t say it fondly. I got enemies. I got… unfinished things. If I ever pull back, disappear for a while… it’s not ‘cause I’m tired of you. It’s ‘cause I’m trying to protect you.”

You hadn’t said anything right away.

Just looked at him—really looked—while he sat still, shoulders tight, like every second of silence chipped away at his confidence. Like he was bracing himself for you to sigh, to shake your head, to say you didn’t sign up for this.

Like he’d seen it happen before.

Because he had.

People have left Hyugo before. Screaming matches or messy, dramatic exits or Just… quietly. Gradually. Like a candle flickering out in a room he hadn’t realized had gone cold.

Some said he was “too much”—too chaotic, too unreachable, too unpredictable. Others didn’t say anything at all. They just disappeared. Let go without warning. Walked out while he was still holding on.

So when he opened up to you, even a little—when he admitted how messy his life was, how much danger it might bring, how scared he was of dragging someone good into his world—it wasn’t just a warning.

It was a test. And he hated that it had to be.

But you didn’t walk away.

And something in him cracked open for you after that. Slowly, cautiously—but it opened. Still, there are moments… quiet, stupid moments where the fear creeps back in. When someone else’s eyes linger on you a little too long. When your attention slips away for just a beat too long. When you laugh with someone else in a way that used to be his alone.

And then? Hyugo gets quietly possessive.

Not cruel. Not jealous in the way that burns everything down. But in the way that digs in—firm, unyielding, scared in the places he refuses to show.

He’ll pout first, like it’s all fun and games. Arms crossed, an exaggerated sigh, brows cocked high with all the drama of a man auditioning for a bad soap opera.

“You ignoring me now? Damn, babe. Who’s this new cast member and what do they have that I don’t? ‘Cause I will up my stats. I’m not above DLC bribes.”

But if the other person gets too bold?

That’s when the shift comes. Subtle, but sharp.

His fingers slide to your waist, grounding himself in your warmth like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. His voice softens, drops an octave—but there’s steel under the silk now. His whole energy changes, like a storm smiling through the sunlight.

“That guy’s not gonna steal you away, right?”

The words brush your skin just before his lips do, heat trailing over your neck, a kiss so casual it feels like a claim.

“I mean… you are mine, yeah?”

It’s not a threat. Not a demand. 

It’s a plea he doesn’t know how to voice.

Because he doesn’t want to trap you—he wants to be chosen. Every day. Every hour. Loudly. With intention. Just like he chooses you.

Even when the world’s unfair. Even when he’s neck-deep in shady jobs, fractured loyalties, or the weight of who he used to be. Even when he’s afraid. He’ll still love you like it’s the only thing keeping him real. Because Hyugo doesn’t care what you are. Only that you’re his. And yeah… sometimes he still wonders if he’s too much to stay with. 

But damn if he won’t spend the rest of his life giving you every reason to stay anyway.

✑ Flaws? Suprisingly there’s only Two…

Again—no one is perfect.

Hyugo’s learned, consciously or not, that being the comic relief, the sunshine, the dependable one earns love and keeps people around. So that’s the role he plays. Laughing through pain. Masking exhaustion with trivia. Brushing off his own needs with a practiced smile.

Which is a classic avoidant coping style, often stemming from early experiences where expressing pain or emotional needs either resulted in abandonment, punishment, or dismissal. He’s not unaware of his hurt—he just doesn’t believe there’s space for it. Or that anyone will stay if they see it. So he internalizes the belief:

“If I keep everyone happy, if I’m useful and entertaining, they won’t leave.” But emotional suppression is a time bomb. Eventually, the mask cracks.

It started small. Missed texts. Delayed replies. A few vague excuses about errands or errands or “sorry, I fell asleep.” But the dark circles under his eyes weren’t from sleep.

And you knew it.

So when you drop by his place unannounced and find him sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt halfway off, eyes glazed over in thought—You don’t say anything. You just step in quietly and sit next to him.

“Didn’t expect you,” he says, voice soft. He smiles—but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I look like a mess, huh?”

You don’t reply to the joke. You just ask, “Are you okay?”

That’s when it happens.

A twitch in his jaw. A flicker of discomfort. A sharp inhale. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking. Long week, y’know?” Then a quick subject change: “Hey, did you know in some countries, strawberries used to symbolize perfection? Which is kinda dumb, 'cause they bruise so easily—”

You cut him off gently. “No trivia tonight, Hyugo.”

He goes quiet. The tension in his shoulders rises like a tide. He won’t look at you. Just stares at the floor like it might rescue him from the weight settling in his chest. “I’m good,” he says again. But softer this time. “I have to be. I don’t really get to fall apart. People expect me to… I dunno. Handle things. Be cool. Be funny. Be the guy who keeps the mood light.”

You put your hand on his knee. Anchor him. Pull him back from wherever he’s floating off to. “You’re allowed to fall apart sometimes.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. It cracks midway through. His head drops, and for the first time in a long while—he doesn’t hide the exhaustion. “But if I do… what if you leave too?”

And that’s the real fear. Not pain. Not stress. Abandonment.

You pull him in. Let him lean on you. His arms wind around your waist like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he loosens his grip. And for a while, neither of you speak.

Eventually, he murmurs, “You’re the only one I want to be weak with. That’s… scary. More than anything else I’ve done.” And he means it.

He’s not fixed. Not magically “healed.” 

But tonight, he let himself be seen. And that’s the start of something more powerful than any armor he’s ever worn.

Next is that, Hyugo doesn’t just love.

He attaches—deeply, instinctively, and without conditions. The people he chooses are more than friends, more than lovers—they’re extensions of his purpose. And if protecting them means lying, fighting, getting hurt, or burning bridges?

He’ll do it. No regrets. No hesitation.

This stems from survivor’s guilt and a deep-rooted sense of self-worth that’s tied to usefulness. In his head, if he isn’t saving someone, then what is he even for? There’s a quiet belief that he’s more tool than treasure—someone meant to hold the line so others don’t have to.

But in doing so, he forgets:

You love him for who he is. Not what he can suffer through for you.

You’d told him not to come. 

You made it clear: “I’ll handle this. Don’t get involved.”

But that was like telling a storm not to rain. The moment he caught wind of someone cornering you—someone threatening, someone bigger—Hyugo was already halfway to the alley behind the gym building, jaw tight, mind made up.

By the time you arrived, breath ragged and furious, the guy was on the ground. Groaning. Bloody lip. Hyugo stood over him, fists clenched and knuckles torn open.

He didn’t even look at you at first. He just said,

“Don’t worry. I handled it. He won’t bother you again.”

But you didn’t feel safe. You felt sick.

Not because he lost control—but because this wasn’t his burden to bear, and he didn’t even stop to think about the cost. “Hyugo,” you said, your voice shaking, “what if he presses charges? What if someone saw?”

He finally looked at you. Eyes wild. Heart still in war mode. But his expression softened when he saw the pain in your face—not from fear of him. From fear for him. “I didn’t care,” he said honestly. “I still don’t. No one’s hurting you. Not while I’m breathing.”

That should’ve made you feel safe.

But instead, it made your chest ache.

You stepped closer, grabbing his bloodied hands. They trembled slightly against yours. “You don’t get to set yourself on fire every time someone throws a spark near me.”

He blinked. Confused. Quiet. And that silence? That was the part that stung most—Because it told you he genuinely didn’t see the problem.

You reached up, cupping his face. “You think I want to watch you destroy yourself in my name? You think that’s love?”

His throat bobbed with the effort of swallowing guilt. But he didn’t pull away.

You added, softer: “You’re not a weapon. You’re my heart. And I want all of it. Whole. Safe. With me.” That was the moment he broke—just a little.

He leaned forward, forehead resting against yours. “...I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just… I didn’t know how else to protect you.”

You held him tighter. “By letting me protect you, too.”

This flaw will never fully go away. It’s wired into how he loves. But now? He’s learning there’s strength in restraint. That protecting someone doesn’t always mean throwing himself into every fire. Sometimes, it means staying close.

And staying whole—so he can keep loving you tomorrow, too.

✑ Thoughts + Ranting

Okay. So I said Hyugo only had two major flaws.

...I lied. It’s three. Sue me.

There’s one I didn’t name before. One that’s not easy to admit, even if it’s written all over him like an unspoken scar. Here it is: Hyugo is a perfect example of someone who’s been sexualized—and who learned to play into it, because it was the only way he ever felt seen.

But let’s set the record straight, because the internet loves to twist things: I’m not saying he’s a pervert. Absolutely not. Don’t even try it. This isn’t a man hiding in your closet or panting in your bushes. He’s not creeping in the dark. (Save that energy for Sol and his dramatic, stalker-coded tendencies—respectfully.) 

Hyugo isn’t that type of man.

What he is, is someone who developed hypersexual behavior—something that’s often misunderstood. Hypersexuality isn’t about being horny all the time for fun. It’s an intense, sometimes compulsive fixation on sex or sexual behavior, often as a way to cope. It’s not inherently predatory, and it’s not inherently wrong. But it is a reaction. 

A symptom. And in Hyugo’s case, it’s a wound.

See, I was sitting in class when the thought hit me like a truck: What if people really do treat Hyugo like a walking fantasy? A quick fix? A body to burn through and discard before sunrise? What if that’s how he’s always been viewed—never as a person, just a fleeting high, a secret, a sin?

Because that kind of dehumanization sticks. 

It doesn’t fade. It etches itself into the softest parts of you until you believe it too. And maybe, just maybe, Hyugo learned somewhere along the line that his worth lies in how easily he can be desired—not in who he is, but what he can do for others. What he can give.

He doesn’t feel loved. He feels used. And to protect himself, he leans into it. Becomes somewhat flirt, the temptation, the chaotic late-night call you regret in the morning. Not because it’s what he wants—but because at least this way, he’s not being rejected. He’s being chosen, even if it’s for all the wrong reasons.

And that’s why he can’t let you go.

Because you didn’t treat him like a performance. 

You didn’t treat him like a transaction. You saw through the chaos and the charm and found the person. The equal. The soul. The boy who still believes in love, even if he’s too scared to admit it out loud.

You made him feel real.

Sidenote—completely unrelated to everything I just said—but I can’t stop thinking about the fact that Hyugo lost his virginity to a man.

Fantasia said it. I’m not taking it back. It wasn’t for shock value. It’s canon. It means something. It says something about him—and the more I sit with it, the more it adds layers to his character that I can’t ignore.

First of all, it confirms what we already sensed: Hyugo’s pansexual. He doesn’t box his heart or desires into categories. He loves people, not parts. He's comfortable in his skin, open with his identity, and doesn’t shrink himself to make others comfortable. He owns who he is with that same bold, cheeky confidence he brings to everything else. And that kind of honesty? It’s rare. He doesn’t make a show of it. He just is. Unapologetically.

But here’s where it gets tangled in my head—I keep wondering about the context.

Was it a casual hookup? Something spontaneous, wild, and curious, sparked by the need to feel alive or wanted in a moment of vulnerability? Or was it more than that? Did he love this person? Did they matter to him in a way that left a mark? Could this have been the crush he mentioned once, the one he speaks about with that strange softness, like he’s remembering something half-sweet, half-sore?

Did it end suddenly? Did it end at all?

There’s something quietly haunting about the idea that Hyugo’s first time wasn’t just a physical milestone, but an emotional one too. Maybe it was one of the only times he gave himself to someone not as a game, not as a performance—but as a person. Whole. Nervous. Real.

And maybe it didn’t last. Maybe it broke him a little. Maybe that’s where the cracks started—where he learned that intimacy and pain can exist in the same breath. That being vulnerable doesn’t always lead to safety. That being wanted doesn’t always mean being kept.

That’s why it sticks with me. Not because it’s scandalous.

But because it’s human.

And in Hyugo’s story, humanity is the one thing he keeps offering—despite how often the world tries to strip it from him.

Let’s take it deeper—Hyugo and… Geo.

I know I never shut up about Geo (he’s my husband, deal with it), but this isn't just about gushing over him. There’s something worth unraveling here. Something that speaks to how trauma doesn’t create a blueprint—it creates a battlefield. Two people can grow up in the same wreckage, and walk away with completely different scars.

See, Hyugo and Geo? They’re two halves of a shared history. 

Geo likes to say they’re stepbrothers—like that somehow distances them, makes the connection less binding. But let’s be honest: blood means nothing when you’ve been raised under the same roof, weathered the same storms, and built your sense of self from the same broken foundation.

That’s your brother.

That’s family. Whether you want to admit it or not.

And that’s the thing with Geo—he doesn’t want to admit it. Cold, closed-off, “don’t touch me unless it’s about business” 

Geo would rather die than openly acknowledge Hyugo as his older brother. But that truth lives in his bones. It’s there in the way he bristles when Hyugo’s hurt, in the way he silently watches over him from across a room, like a knight who doesn’t want to be caught caring. And Hyugo? He knows. He never says it outright, never demands affection or acknowledgment. But he knows. Geo is his little brother. End of story.

What’s fascinating—and heartbreaking—is how differently they responded to the same trauma.

Geo shut down. Became all logic and sharp edges. He put walls up so high no one could climb over, and he keeps his emotions buried so deep even he forgets where he left them. He’s aromantic/asexual, what if he’s emotionally scarred to the point of numbness, one thing’s certain: Geo is the embodiment of survival through detachment. He chose silence over softness. 

Distance over danger.

Meanwhile, Hyugo? Did the opposite. If Geo’s pain froze him solid, Hyugo’s set him on fire. He threw glitter over his wounds. Covered the screaming with laughter, with noise, with affection that sometimes feels like too much—until you realize it’s the only way he knows how to ask, “Will you stay? Will you care?”

That’s why people call him two-faced. 

Why they mistake his flirtation for manipulation, his touch for control. But it’s not conquest. It’s not about power. It’s about connection. About feeling real in a world that kept trying to erase him. Hyugo wants to be loved, and not just in passing. He wants to be seen—fully, achingly, intimately.

So yeah. In my eyes, Hyugo’s hypersexual.

But not in the shallow, performative way people think. It’s not about predation. It’s not about conquest or control. It’s about feeling. About proving to himself that he’s real, that he matters, that someone sees him and still stays.

Every touch is deliberate.

Every kiss is a question: Do I still exist to you?

When Hyugo reaches for someone, it’s like he’s trying to anchor himself to this world before it slips away again. 

Because to him? Intimacy is safety. Desire is reassurance.

And love—true love—is survival.

When he touches you, he’s not just touching skin—he’s tracing the shape of a future where he doesn’t have to be afraid. When he looks at you, it’s not lust—it’s hunger for warmth, for stability, for someone who doesn’t leave.

You don’t become his partner. You become his reason. His rescue.

And once you have Hyugo’s heart?

There’s no in-between. No lukewarm affection. He’s all in. No backup plan. No armor. Just him—raw and real and terrified that you’ll disappear too. Loving Hyugo means being chosen. Means being seen in a way that strips you down to the bone, and yet somehow, makes you feel more whole than ever before.

It’s intense. It’s overwhelming. But it’s never fake.

Now pair that with his two-faced nature—the side of him people whisper about. The switch that flips from sunshine to shadow in a blink. Because yeah, Hyugo can be the kindest soul you’ve ever met.  Soft, attentive, radiant. But cross a line? Or worse—betray him?

He’ll smile while slicing you in half with words sharp enough to scar your soul. That duality isn’t an act. It’s survival.

One face to charm the world. The other to protect what little of himself he hasn’t already given away. 

And the reason that duality even exists? Because Hyugo grew up in the same haunted house as Geo. Same broken floorboards. Same locked doors. Same silence. But while Geo turned cold, Hyugo became heat.

One froze to survive. The other burned.

And they’re still bleeding from it. Two brothers.

Two different coping mechanisms. Same pain—processed on opposite ends of the spectrum. So call Hyugo hypersexual. Call him two-faced. But don’t you dare call him fake. He’s just trying to feel something real. And in this world? 

That makes him one of the bravest souls I’ve ever known.

[lexirosewrites]

Day 12: Mating/Bonding

for @stmarchmm

The truly fucked up thing about it is that Eddie has been looking forward to this day for months.

Well, if he’s being technical about it, he’s been daydreaming about his and Steve’s bonding day since his sophomore year of high school.

There was a time in Eddie’s life when he would doodle “SH+EM” in his notebooks during math class, happier to plan an impossible future than learn how to graph slopes.

Maybe that’s why he failed his senior year twice.

He’ll never tell Wayne that the first time was actually on purpose.

Okay, sue him, he had a silly, embarrassing, massive fucking crush on the younger boy and he wanted to be in the same classes as him.

The second time Eddie failed, it was entirely because he couldn’t stop staring at the omega long enough to learn anything worth while.

Steve was worth failing for.

Wayne might have had some strong words about it if he knew, but it seems Eddie got away with that mortifying bit of trivia.

As it is, he managed to hide his fruitless crush for quite a while. At least until it wasn’t fruitless anymore.

In fact, it’s been very fruitful!

So much so that they’re holding a bonding ceremony today in front of all their friends and family in just a few minutes.

Eddie is going to commit his life and love to Steve, promise to protect him and their pack as alpha, and take a vow of faithfulness, til death do they part.

And that scares the absolute shit out of him.

Don’t misunderstand him, Eddie loves Steve beyond measurable words! He’s absolutely wonderful.

Steve is the most beautiful omega alive with the biggest heart and the tightest, wettest, juiciest pus—

He’s getting off track now and he has to focus.

Because if Eddie can’t get himself together and get out in front of a packed chapel in just a few minutes, it’s going to look like he doesn’t love Steve.

He’s afraid of lots of things in life.

Demobats, Robin, Dustin’s baking skills, Robin, ending up like his father, and most importantly, Robin.

But never of loving Steve. That’s the only thing he’s ever been 100% sure of.

And yet he is frozen in fear.

“Ed, it’s just about time to get things started. How ya feelin’ in here?”

Thank fuck for Wayne.

The only man (aside from Steve) who has ever been able to understand him.

Eddie doesn’t need to say a word about his current panic. All he has to do is turn to his uncle and his face says it all.

Wayne speaks fluent ‘Eddie.’

“Son, what’s on yer mind? That sweet boy of yers is getting all dolled up for ya right now and yer mind clearly ain’t there.”

“I’m going to do something to fuck this up and Steve won’t love me anymore,” Eddie blurts out.

There’s no point beating around the bush.

He’s been thinking about it all morning. Maybe longer than that. Maybe ever since Steve accepted his final courting gift and subsequent bonding proposal.

Part of him thought their entire courting was a cruel joke the universe was playing on him anyway.

Life has never been very fair to Eddie. He doesn’t waste time crying about it or whatever, but shit has always been unnecessary rough and he’s used to that.

But this was truly insane.

A perfect omega like Steve Harrington has no business even talking to an alpha like Eddie, let alone being courted by him.

The only reason he’d even started courting Steve is that Robin threatened to break his arm if he didn’t “man up and ask him out already, you lovesick loser!”

Robin really scares him.

But it had worked and they’ve been going steady ever since.

Every day feels like a dream and every morning Eddie wakes up expecting to find that it really was all a dream and he’s back dozing off in math class after doodling their initials in hearts again.

It’s a nightmare.

No, loving Steve doesn’t scare him, but the idea of potentially losing him terrifies Eddie.

“Well now, I think you’ve had too much time thinkin’ by yerself, kid. Ain’t a damn thing that could pull the two of ya apart, far as I can see. A sturdy axe and strong arm couldn’t split you boys up.”

Wayne’s words of wisdom always come from a place of love. And a simple explanation of life the way he views it.

Eddie’s not entirely sold on it yet, but he wants to believe that there’s hope for them.

He wants—no, needs— a life by Steve’s side more than anything else.

“That’s all fine and dandy, Wayne, but what about when I do something stupid and he realizes what kind of dumbass he’s mated to? What if he starts to hate me and he’s stuck with me?” Eddie challenges back.

Wayne sighs, coming forward to straighten the wrinkled lapels of Eddie’s jacket.

He meticulously smoothes them out from where Eddie was pulling at them nervously.

“Do you remember that time ya were supposed to pick Steve up for the movies and ya forgot ya had band practice that night?”

Oh god. That was one of Eddie’s lowest moments in life.

They both cried that night.

“Yeah, of course I do. I left Steve waiting in the rain and I felt terrible about it! Is that supposed to make me feel better or are you telling me that I’m right and I shouldn’t go through with this?”

Wayne gives him a look.

It’s the one that says he should shut up and listen.

He does.

“Ed, you’ve fucked up before. Ya left him in the rain, ya spilled ketchup on his favorite yellow shirt, ya tried to trim up his hair and took a big chunk out of it instead.”

Eddie wants to crawl under a rock and wait there until he’s dead and nobody can find him ever again.

“Yes, I get it! I’m stupid and reckless and I hurt the people I love! This pep talk sucks ass, Wayne.”

His uncle finally smiles. Such a weird old man. Proof that he’s a Munson.

“You’ve done just ‘bout everything ya can do to fuck things up and Steve still wants to be your mate, son. He loves ya.”

Oh.

Hmmm.

Yeah, that’s true. He has fucked up. On numerous occasions.

Never on purpose, but Steve has always forgiven him graciously regardless. That’s the kind of man he is.

Wayne wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him close for a tight hug, like the old days.

“Steve isn’t going anywhere. He’s made that clear. Now ya need to honor that decision by pulling yer head out of yer ass and showing him that he’s making the right choice today. Go get yer boy, Ed,” Wayne whispers emphatically.

Eddie has to wipe away a few stray tears first.

Then he struts into that chapel with his head held high, a new confidence in his step.

When Steve walks down the aisle to meet him, he’s as beautiful as ever.

Clothed in pure white and a natural blush that makes Eddie want to do nasty things to his omega.

He’s ready for forever.

“Hi, baby.”

[sanguineterrain]

Hi Sanne! Could I please request a Wally x reader where she’s super clumsy and kinda shy so when he flirts with her she gets all flustered and clumsy and Wally thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world? Thank you!

got this request AGES ago and forgot to post. hope you like! I don't know much about wally's personality admittedly except for the few comics I've read with him 🫣

gn!reader. wally makes your body and mouth clumsy. kissing and confessions. drinking.

****

"So what exactly is this again?" Roy asks, peering at his glass.

"It's a mocktail," you say.

"No, I get that, but why is it blue? And sparkly."

"It's supposed to be the ocean," Dick says. "Duh."

"Oh, sure. As usual, I'm the idiot. Never had the creative mind to find worlds in drinks. 'S like I'm drinking a snow globe."

"I can get you something else," you say, laughing.

"No, I like the snowglobe." Roy curls his hands around the glass protectively. "My snowglobe."

The team's decided to try their hand at a trivia night at a local bar. It's gone better than you expected, with only one near-blowup and no glasses thrown. All in all, a good night.

"I would like another daiquiri, please," Donna says, holding up her glass. "These are delicious. What flavor did you say this one was?"

"Passion fruit."

She nods. "Indeed. I'm passionate about this fruit."

"Don't get my team too hungover," Dick says, eyes shining and cheeks pink from two drinks.

"I'll do my best," you say.

If only Wally were here, you don't say. He'd be a big help in getting everyone back to the Tower. You have no idea how you're going to manage the Wonder Twins and Garth wobbling all over the sidewalk. Roy, though perfectly sober, will provide zero help, too busy giggling at Dick's lack of motor skills.

You take Donna's glass because she deserves another passion fruit daiquiri if she wants it, darn it. You order that and another two baskets of fries. Dick's got the tab. Everyone's taking advantage.

"Need a hand?"

You turn with the fries cradled in one arm and the daiquiri in your other hand. You don't anticipate Wally to be standing as close as he is.

The baskets go flying.

"Whoa!" he says, darting out to catch the food. He does so perfectly, of course.

"Oh!" Your face goes hot as Wally grins at you.

"Careful," he says. "All those heroes and not a single one came to help you carry the food? They should be ashamed of themselves."

"They're, um, having a good time. It's okay, really." Did you manifest him being here? "I was just thinking about you."

Wally's grin widens. "Oh, yeah? Anything in particular?"

Now, why did you say that? Your tongue just gets so clumsy around him.

"I was—I mean, it wasn't—I was thinking about how helpful it would be if you were here. I was hoping you'd come."

"Well, hope no more! You've got an official superhero on your side."

Wally wriggles the glass out of your hand and gestures for you to go ahead. Now you're carrying nothing. You go, knowing that protesting does no good with Wally.

"Seems like wherever you go, Wally isn't far behind," Roy says, waggling his eyebrows. "You two psychically linked or something?"

Dick and Donna exchange smiles. You look at Wally, mildly mortified by the teasing.

"We're soulmates, actually," Wally says, and that makes your whole body hot. "Wouldn't expect you to understand, Arrow Boy."

"Dude, I'm hurt." Roy clutches his chest. "I thought we were soulmates."

"You wish. Where's Garth?"

"Bathroom," Dick says.

Donna makes grabby hands for the drink. She takes a long sip and gives you a thumbs up. You return it.

"We should play pool!" Dick says.

"No way, you cheat," Roy says.

"I do not! Donna, do I cheat?"

"Physically, Dick doesn't cheat, but he has a long history of psychologically manipulating opponents," Donna says.

Roy snaps his fingers. "Bingo."

"I don't cheat, I'm just that good." Dick smirks. "Anyway, I'm tipsy, so my aim will be off."

Roy rolls his eyes. "Yeah, right. No bets. I can't afford to lose anymore money to you."

"Fine. You two joining us?" Dick asks, looking at you and Wally.

"I don't know how to play pool," you say, a little embarrassed. Working on a team of superheroes, the least you could do is know how to play pool. Pool is obviously a cool people game. Batman probably taught Dick pool when he was, like, eight.

"That's fine, we can teach ya," Roy says.

"No, we suck at teaching," Dick says. "Remember, Roy? Remember how we suck at teaching people? Wally's way better at teaching."

Roy glances at Dick, then at Wally. He nods slowly. "Ah... yeah. Our, uh, shortcomings as teachers—yeah, we suck. Wally, you're up!"

Wally squints at them. "What're you talking about? You guys are better at pool than me."

"Not true! You can calculate physics in your head and shit. Go on. Shoo, fly," Roy says, waving him away.

Wally looks at you, questioning. You shrug, trying to play off how nervous you are at the prospect of being alone with him.

You follow him to one of the pool tables. He takes down a cue stick and gives it to you.

"You really don't have to teach me," you say, suddenly self-conscious. "It's not a big deal."

"I don't mind," he says, smiling. "Plus, what if you're a pool prodigy and we never find out because I never taught you and unlocked your ability? Tragic."

You laugh. He beams. You back up against the table and the wooden edge hits your back. You wince.

"You okay?" he asks, inspecting you.

"Fine." You sigh. "Okay, I'm ready to unlock my special abilities."

"Right on. So you're gonna hold the cue like this."

He puts it in your hands and adjusts your grip.

"Okay, and you're gonna stand like—uh, is it cool if I touch you?"

"Uh-huh," you say, hoping your voice isn't high and breathy.

Wally gently bends you forward and moves your hips so your legs are planted. He's behind you, mouth near your ear.

"Alright," he says, and your whole body goes aflame. He's so close. "So pull back..."

You pull back the cue and promptly elbow Wally in the stomach. He grunts and you drop the stick, mortified.

"Oh my God," you say, spinning around. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. God—"

You dart away, the humiliation too overwhelming. You're making a beeline for the bathroom when Wally appears in front of you. Damn superspeed.

"Hey, hey," he says, hands on your shoulders. "I'm okay. Seriously, don't even worry about it!"

"No." You shake your head. "I give up. I'm too uncoordinated for this stuff. There's a reason I'm not out on the field."

"Aw, c'mon, none of that," Wally says, rubbing your arms. "You're a valued member of the team even if you don't go onto the field. What you do is important. You're like our Oracle."

"I've been tripping over my own feet all night," you say, looking down.

No guesses as to why you've been so clumsy. Starts with a W, ends with a Y.

"Well, I'll always be there to catch you," Wally says warmly. "I have great reflexes. It's kinda my thing."

You busy yourself with picking at a loose thread on your shirt, so Wally won't see your response to that.

"I'm still sorry for elbowing you." You cover your face at the memory. "Ugh."

He laughs. "Nah, it's okay, honestly. I'm a tough guy. Put on my own suit and everything."

And now, your mind is inundated with images of Wally in his suit.

He carefully tugs your hands from your face, gaze soft. You're caught off-guard as Wally rubs your knuckles with his thumbs.

"Listen, I..." He glances around as if searching for words. You've never seen Wally at a loss for words. He's usually talking too fast for anyone to keep up. "I don't know if maybe I'm misreading this. I don't think I am. But if I am, feel free to elbow me again."

Your eyes widen. "I would never—"

And quick as anything, Wally leans in and pecks your lips. It's warm, like a shock of electricity. You barely have time to process it.

"Oh," is all you can say.

Wally smiles nervously. "Is that a good oh or a 'I'd like to punch you in the face' oh?"

"I like you," you blurt.

He relaxes into a grin. "Know what? I kind of suspected. Especially after those idiots practically forced us into playing pool. I'm dumb but I'm not that dumb."

"You're not dumb, Wally."

"When it comes to this stuff, I really am. But I'm happy you like me because I really like you. Like, a lot."

"Yeah? Elbows and all?"

Wally laughs, draws you in again for a kiss. "You can elbow me any time, babe."

[robo-milky]

[MORE INFO]

Nicknames:

Tall Henchman (Grim) | Taller Herbivore (Leona) | Cleaner Shrimp (Floyd) | Monsieur Beau Parleur (Rook)

Background:

Prior to her isekai into Twisted Wonderland, Yuuen was the first year of an intense performing arts school that would guarantee her a contract of getting into a renowned all-girls’ musical troupe upon graduation. In that troupe, actors are split into otokoyaku (girl playing guy) and musumeyaku (girl playing girl). Yuuen aspires to be a Top Star (otokoyaku), the leading actress that plays will revolve around.

Notable Thoughts: Yuuen’s

“I can’t blame Headmaster Crowley for giving us so little… We weren’t supposed to be students here, in the first place.”

“Ahaha! I like Grim quite a lot! He’ll be a great mage someday, I know it.”

“Cloche is pretty easy to handle once you know the right tricks. Fluster her a little, and you can get away with anything— it’s not twisted if I meant it from the heart!”

“Ah… Jack’s unique magic is making me a little homesick.”

“It’s such a shame Epel had to be a boy. I’ve never thought about the kind of musumeyaku I’d want in my Top Combi, but it’d have to be someone with his looks. Kidding~”

“How can someone possibly be so beautiful?! Smooth skin, wonderful voice, elegant manners, I must learn it from Dorm Leader Vil!”

Notable Thoughts: Others’

“If only every other student was as diligent and respectful as Yuuen… Oh how easy being a Headmaster would be.” - Crowley

“Some people just have no sense of personal space, it’s exhausting.” - Cloche

“I did not chicken out of messing with Yuuen! …Grim’s just funner to rile up.” - Ace

“Oh là là, have I finally met my match? Yuuen-kun is cute, but I must show her why I am the Vice Dorm Leader of Pomefiore.” - Rook

Extras/Trivia:

- Originally had longer hair but it got burnt when Yuuen intervened in Grim and Ace’ fight in the prologue. Yuuen isn’t particularly upset, since she’ll have to cut it short when she’s contracted, anyways.

- Though Yuuen would like to adopt a more masculine style, she insists on wearing her uniform (dress) until she’s a real otokoyaku.

- Extremely good at cleaning, as a result of her first year duties, but has never really cooked before.

- Would like to try playing Lucheni from Elisabeth das Musical

- Can’t do make up by herself (Cloche does it for her when asked to)

- Pure hearted

- Wanna hear her natural voice? Good luck.

Gallery:

[emakataken]

Part 3

Idea: After a chance meeting at a firefighter bar, Tommy Kinard a guarded Air Ops pilot and Buck, a restless academy recruit, fall into something neither of them saw coming.

Part 1 - Part 2

~*~*~

It’s been eight weeks since Buck squared his shoulders and told McDaniel not to breathe near the memorial wall. Eight weeks since Tommy followed him into a bathroom without thinking twice.

A rough kiss turned into a number in his phone. That number became a rhythm they haven’t broken since.

Tuesdays and or Thursdays at the gym. The occasional Friday night trivia or Saturday bar crawl with cheap beers and questions Buck never really gets right, though they almost always go home with the prize.

They don’t talk about whatever’s between them.

The selfie hits at 9:58 pm. Tommy, shirtless, mirror smudged, hair damp, towel low. Need a spot for leg day?

Buck stares, his brain shorting out in the sizzling way it always does when Tommy flirts without apology. That’s not safe for my cardiovascular system, he texts back. Or my GPA. He adds after closing his textbook.

Good form should be studied.

Buck snorts and drops onto his bed. Is that what you’re calling it now?

Yep. Educational material, for my favorite motivated recruit.

Buck doesn’t mean to smile, but it happens anyway. Speaking of, he types. You got a sec?

Depends. Is it a trick question or a thirst trap?

Academy stuff, Buck replies. But I can send a thirst trap after if you need balance.

Fair trade. Hit me.

Buck flips to the notes app on his phone. What’s a third reason a two-person hose advance fails under pressure? I’ve got miscommunication and bad angle on the nozzle. I could crack back open my text book but indulge me.

Anchor loses balance, Tommy replies. Line whips. Nozzle drags. Shit goes sideways.

Buck plugs it in. You make this sound easy.

Another pause, shorter this time, Buck hadn't even selected what playlist he wanted to listen to.

It wasn’t when I was learning. You’re wired for it. Don't stress.

Buck swallows. The words sink in, he closes his eyes and lets himself feel them, steady and sure.

Still waiting on my thirst trap, Buckley.

Buck huffs. Flips his camera. His hair’s a wet, curling mess. He angles the shot just right: shirtless, sprawled lazy across rumpled white sheets, the navy-blue waistband of his briefs peeking out, faded HANES logo barely visible.

Fuck, Tommy texts. And you’re lucky I’m home.

Buck blinks. Then the phone starts to ring. He stares at the screen. Tommy’s name. “Didn’t realize this was gonna be oral feedback,” Buck says, voice low.

Tommy laughs, and it’s not fair, the sound does something to Buck’s chest, hot and direct and too easy. “You send me a photo like that and expect me not to call?”

“Wasn’t expecting a grade,” Buck murmurs, dragging a knuckle along his stomach. “But if we’re handing them out…”

“You’re looking at a solid A-minus,” Tommy drawls. “Points docked for lighting. And the fact that I can’t currently crawl through the phone.”

Buck shifts, the sheets rustling. “A-minus, hmm?”

“We'll work on it.” There’s a pause, it's not awkward, just full. Electric. Buck can hear the way Tommy’s breathing, low and even but not calm. It does shit to his brain that makes him want more.

“You touchin’ yourself yet?” Tommy asks, voice deeper, a little rougher the way it drops when he has him pinned.

Buck swallows. “No.”

“You waiting for me?” He doesn’t answer right away. Tommy hums pleased. “Good boy.”

Buck lets out a shaky breath, he really should figure out why that phrase set him off.

“Hand under the sheet?” Tommy murmurs.

“Yeah,” Buck says, voice catching just slightly.

“You hard?”

Buck nods, then realizes and clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Thought so.”

There’s a rustle on Tommy’s end. Fabric, maybe. Like the sound of someone stretching out across a bed. “You know what I’d do,” Tommy says, quieter now. “If I had you here?”

Buck closes his eyes and fists himself.

“Start slow,” Tommy continues. “Mouth on your stomach. Just above that waistband. Hands on your hips, holdin’ you still. Not for long. Just long enough to make you ask.”

Buck’s breath stutters out.

“And you would ask, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes sir,” Buck whispers through a hiss.

“You already sound so fucking gone baby,” Tommy says. “I bet you’re already halfway there.”

He is. The tension’s coiled tight behind his ribs, heat sinking down low.

Tommy keeps talking, voice low, coaxing, warm with intent, but by the time Buck spills over with a broken sound, he doesn’t say anything. Just listens. Breath caught somewhere between a grin and something adoring. Lets Buck feel whatever he needs to feel.

Buck breathes through it, chest heaving, the world narrowed to the sound of Tommy on the line and the pulse drumming down his spine.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t know what to say.

Because this, this is the only time it’s ever felt like this.

He’s been touched before. Wanted before. But not like this. Not through the grainy static of a voice calling him kid and good boy in the same breath, not with someone steadying him like they see him.

And Tommy doesn’t know.

Doesn’t know that he’s the first man Buck’s ever been with. Not just like this, but like this. With heat and hunger and something that looks too close to care. He presses the heel of his palm to his eyes. Sucks in a shaky breath.

“You okay?” Tommy asks, finally. The quiet’s gone long enough that his voice is gentler now.

“Yeah,” Buck says. He doesn’t trust his voice, but it holds.

“Alright. Then get some sleep, Evan.”

Buck exhales, soft. “Don’t hang up.”

“I won’t.”

“Can you talk?” Buck asks, words loose now. Neediness crawling out. “Just… say something. Anything.”

Tommy shifts, lets out a long breath, “Alright,” he says gently. “You ever fly over the Mojave before dawn?”

There’s silence for a moment before a quiet, “No,” fills the line. Then, after a beat, Buck says, softer now, “But minutes before twilight in the Hindu Kush Mountains… those were always my favorite. But fuck, that might’ve just been the altitude talking.”

Tommy stills.

Buck keeps going, like the words are rising from somewhere deeper. “But those seconds always felt still. Breathtaking. Right before the world woke up and hell’s cage rattled open.” His voice doesn’t shake, but it’s close as the memories rise up. His jaw’s tightens, breaths shallow. There’s nakedness in his tone he hadn't meant for.

Tommy doesn’t say anything right away. But Buck knows he’s still there.

“I figured,” Tommy says finally. Quiet. Solid. “Didn’t know where. Didn’t need to.”

“Talk to me about the Mojave,” Buck murmurs. “Please.”

Tommy s takes a deep breath and starts talking. “The Mojave’s different at dawn,” he says, voice low and sure. “Sky’s not blue, not yet. Just this weird mix of slate and copper."

Buck doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to.

“I used to fly recon loops outta Barstow,” Tommy continues. “You catch it just right, the sun cuts through the mountains and lights up the dust like gold.” His voice softens, just slightly. “For maybe thirty seconds, you forget what the mission is. It’s just you and the wind, and everything quiet.”

There’s the faintest sigh. Tommy doesn’t stop. Keeps going. Describes the sound of the rotors spinning up, the taste of sand in his teeth, the way his hands used to hum after hours gripping the throttle.

Letting his memories push Evan's away so he rest. He’s halfway through a story about watching storm systems roll in when he realizes Buck’s gone quiet.

Tommy smiles, voice dropping further. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s it. You’re good, kid.”

He doesn’t hang up. Just rolls onto his side and settles in, and lets the line stay open as his eyes drop shut.

Part 4

[bucksaiga]

i'll believe you when you're sober

E Rating Tags: Drunk Evan "Buck" Buckley, Fix-It, Frottage, Reconciliation, Dubious Consent

Every night feels quiet and monotonous. No one to yap his ear off with random trivia. No one to insist on massaging his scalp in the shower after a long shift. No Evan.

It's all Tommy's fault, he knows, but he constantly tells himself that it was for the best. It was the right thing. Even if every sunset is a vicious cycle of endless darkness. He's not sleeping as well without the goodnight kiss…and another…and another…and one more. He's not eating as well with out the "is this sauce too spicy?" "no it's perfect" pasta. Tommy's just not the same anymore.

At 10:40, he dragged himself to bed and tried to sleep on what used to be Evan's side. All it does is make him miss him more. Dream about him more. Toss and turn without him more.

He stared at the ceiling, ready for another sleepless night.

He slowly turned his head toward the night table, following the sound of his phone vibrating.

The number on the screen was unfamiliar, but at 11 PM, it had to be a mistake, or an emergency.

He answered either way.

"Hello?"

"Hey, yeah…are you Tommy?" A man on the other end of the phone asked.

"Yes? Who's calling?"

"My name is Greg, I'm a bartender at Bigg's Bar. I've got a guy, Buck, at the bar who's been disturbing the patrons and crying over you. He's had too much to drink so I suggested giving you a call. Can you come pick him up?"

"…Buck? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he almost got into a fight with some guy over…the moon, or something. Anyway, can you get him out of here? It's almost last call."

Tommy had to shake off the momentary shock. "Uh…Yeah, I'll be there as soon as possible."

The call ended and Tommy rushed to put on some clothes, any clothes. He put on one black sock and one white sock, some grey sweats that were a bit snug and Buck's favorite hoodie. He'd be sure to explain to Buck why he still had it once he was sober.

Bigg's was a 30 minute commute from Tommy's, but Tommy was sure to get there as quickly as possible.

He rushed inside and immediately approached the bartender. "You called me? About Buck?"

"Oh, yeah, he's over there." Greg pointed to the end of the bar to a man with his head resting on his arm and a glass of water in front of him. "Buck? Buck." Tommy nudged him.

"Mmh…" Buck mumbled as he slowly sat up. His heavy, glossy eyes went wide. "To-Tommy?"

Tommy nodded. "C'mon. Let's get you out of here before you get in trouble." Tommy attempted to help Buck off the bar stool, only to receive no cooperation.

Buck yanked his arm out of Tommy's grasp. "I don't…wanna go with you."

Tommy felt his heart sink immediately. He knew all along Buck hated him, but this was proof. "Why?" He asked, knowing the question was pointless.

"Because you hate me. You don't want me."

"Listen, I don't hate you, okay? And I'm not leaving without you."

Buck whimpered and put his head back down. "M'not going."

"Please." Tommy sighed. "You can't stay here all night, they want you to go."

Buck snickered. "So nobody wants me."

"Just let me take you home, okay? I promise I don't mind."

Buck slowly sat up and allowed Tommy to escort him out of the bar. Tommy strapped Buck into his backseat and handed him a plastic bag from one of his grocery shopping trips earlier that week.

"If you need me to stop or slow down, just say so."

Buck mumbled something as his head bobbed to the side, gently knocking against the window.

Tommy began driving, occasionally glancing back at Buck, who hadn't said a single word since they left the bar.

"I told him…" Buck slurred.

"Told who?" Tommy asked.

"The guy…at the bar. I told him…there were active volcanoes on the moon and he…he said I sounded stupid. You…never called me stupid." "You're not stupid, Buck."

"Can we go to your house?"

"Why my house?" Tommy narrowed his eyes into the rear view mirror.

"Wanna…use the white noise machine."

Tommy did not want to bring Buck to his house, but he also did want to bring Buck to his house.

"Fine." He acquiesced.

Tommy drove Buck back to his house, helped him out of his clothes and into the bed. He turned on the white noise machine and tucked Buck in securely.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"No!" Buck exclaimed, grabbing his hand. "Stay with me."

Tommy shook his head. "I can't sleep here with you."

"Why?" Buck whined. "Y'don't wanna?"

He did wanna. Very much so. He craved nights like this every night since he broke up with Buck. But he didn't think he deserved it.

"No. You're drunk. I don't think you'd want to sleep next to me if you were sober."

"Please." Buck begged. "I've missed you so bad. I just want to lay next to you. One more time."

Tommy joined Buck in the bed, against his better judgement.

He let Buck flop into his arm and nuzzle against his cheek.

“Goodnight kiss.” Buck mumbled.

Tommy slowly turned to Buck. A kiss is just a kiss, right? No big deal. They’ve done it a hundred times. Maybe even more.

Tommy planted a soft, chaste kiss on Buck’s lips.

“Another.” He agreed. “Another.” Of course. “One more.” Anything he wanted.

Until Buck rolled on top of him, the chaste kisses becoming slow, passionate and sloppy.

It was the kiss he remembered. The taste he remembered. The tongue he remembered. The Evan he remembered. It was so good, it made him moan.

But they hadn’t discussed the breakup. This wasn’t something that could be left in the past and forgotten. They were too broken to be here. He didn’t deserve these kisses.

Buck slid his hand down, freeing their cocks from the restricting shorts that kept them separated from one another, grinding against Tommy slowly and lazily.

He didn’t deserve the feeling of Evan’s cock slowly gliding against his own, so slick and wet and eager to push inside him.

“E-Ev—baby. We-we shouldn’t.” He moaned, attempting to refuse himself the oncoming orgasm. He didn’t deserve this.

“Tommy.” Buck whined. “I needed you. Missed you.”

“I missed you too.” His moan was a little louder than he anticipated. His cock was sputtering and leaking weeks of pent up precome.

“You’ve never been this hard before.” Buck whispered with a smirk he couldn’t see in the darkness.

“We’ve been apart for a long time.” Tommy admitted, gripping Buck’s ass and grinding up against him, meeting his movements.

Tommy should have been focused on other things. You are so drunk, I had to scrape you off a bar stool. We aren’t together anymore. What are we even doing?

But all he could focus on was—

“I’m gonna come!” Tommy moaned. “Don’t stop.”

“Come for me, daddy. Yeah. You feel so good.” Buck praised. He leaned into Tommy’s neck, softly biting his sensitive skin.

Tommy let out a guttural groan as his cock spilled between them, and Buck soon followed, continuing to slowly grind against Tommy, kissing him until they both had nothing left.

Buck rolled onto the pillow and sighed happily. “Man. I really needed that.”

Tommy slowly sat up. “I’m gonna go get something to clean us up with.”

“Don’t be gone long, baby. I wanna talk to you.”

Tommy wasn’t in much of a rush to return. Buck was drunk. There was no way they could have a decent conversation like this.

He returned, hoping Buck was sound asleep, slightly disappointed when Buck turned toward him as he cleaned him off.

“Tommy.” Buck mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“I miss you so much. I love you…so much.”

“I’m sorry, Evan.” Tommy said sincerely. “But I don’t think you know what you’re saying right now. Let’s pick this up in the morning.”

“Mmh. I do.” Buck weakly argued. “I mean it.”

“Okay. I will believe you when you’re sober.”

“Kiss me.”

Tommy offered Buck one more kiss. Two more kisses. Three more kisses. Ambushed when Buck pulled him in for a fourth, smiling against his lips as if he’d won something.

Tommy didn’t deserve to feel like a prize.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Evan.”

Tommy lied flat on his back and Buck rolled into his arms, lazily peppering kisses on Tommy’s cheek until he fell asleep.

Tommy could feel Buck’s breathing evening out and his breath tickling his cheek.

It was nice. And he didn’t deserve it at all.

The following morning, Tommy woke up in bed alone. He’d be able to convince himself that last night was a dream if Buck’s cologne didn’t linger on his sheets and on his skin.

This is exactly what he deserved. Buck obviously came to his senses when he woke up and realized this was a drunken mistake.

Tommy dragged himself downstairs to make some coffee. There was no way he was going to make it through the day without a cup or two.

He didn’t expect his door to swing open the moment he reached the counter.

“Oh h-hey, good morning.” Buck greeted. “I thought you’d still be asleep before I got back.” He lifted the bag in his hand. “I went to get us some breakfast, to thank you and apologize for last night. I-I don’t remember everything, but I know you picked me up before I did something I would regret. So, thank you.”

“Thank Greg.”

“Greg?”

“The bartender. He said you were crying over me and asked me to get you out of the bar. I felt responsible.”

“Yeah.” Buck laughed. “I uh…I memorized your number in case anything ever happened. Since we’re both first responders…” He trailed off, sighing. “So. Hungry?”

“Yeah. Thank you. I’ll make us some coffee.”

“So…about last night.” Buck began. “I don’t really remember everything. Did we…”

Tommy nodded.

“I figured. Did I say anything stupid?”

“You told me you love me.”

“W—hey, that’s not stupid.” Buck frowned.

“When you’re drunk and don’t mean it, it is.”

“I did mean it.”

Tommy shook his head. “You don’t.”

“Tommy. I’m not stupid. Or confused. I do love you.”

“I never said you were any of those things. I just don’t think you can love me for everything I am when I’ve been holding so much back.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I feel like I’ve…" Tommy sighed. "I've conditioned myself to be a good boyfriend. To be right. To be perfect. And in the process of all that. I don’t know if I’m ever really…myself. I’m afraid to let go. To unwind. To not be the confident, comfortable person. I’ve tried to be everything you were attracted to, but I can’t be that all the time. And when that veil is pulled away, I’ll lose you. You’ll lose interest.”

“Don’t you think I want to see more of that? It’s okay to fall apart in my arms, and give me a chance to love you unconditionally. That’s what I want to do. I want to see you. All of you.”

“You only think you do.”

“I know you’ll have a moment of weakness. Everyone does. I’ve seen it before. You’ve questioned your place in the 118 family more than once, and I’m always here to remind you how special you are. Beyond all the cool things you do. I just—I want to love everything about you.”

Buck nervously watched Tommy. He was quiet. Pensive. It made Buck’s grip tighten so much on his coffee cup, he could’ve cracked it.

“I told you last night that I would believe you when you were sober.”

“So…do you believe me?”

Tommy nodded. “I do, and I love you too. I don't ever want to let you go again."

Buck smiled. "Hey ca-can we have sex?"

"That's your first order of business?" Tommy snorted.

"I just wanna remember it this time! And maybe it'll help with my hangover."

"Can we finish breakfast first?"

Buck's sweet smile turned into a mischievous smirk that Tommy knew all too well. Before he knew it, he was being dragged upstairs by his collar.

"We can finish breakfast later."

Give me kudos <3

[jazzsonly]

ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢɪʀʟꜱ.

pairing(s): tara carpenter x fem!reader

warning(s): tara has a hugeeeee crush, reader is a soccer player, set in scream 5 but in college and includes anika (deal with it,) not too good of writing(lowkey still have writers block,) reminds me of an alt version of goodnight n go.

summary: ❝ Give me a call if you ever get lonely, I'll be like one of your girls or your homies ❞

────────✯────────

it was hard to not notice you, to not know who you were on campus would be a crime considering; you were the girl’s soccer team star, always people cheering your name on game day, always interviewed for the school’s news channel. and not to mention you were really fucking smart, according to even wes himself you’d beat him on trivia night many of times.

you tutored chad for multiple of his courses, and you were also top of your english courses. to add to the fact you were stunningly gorgeous, there was just something of the glisten of your y/c/e eyes that caught so many people’s attention, not to mention your perfect shaped lips, and god, the body on you—how you managed to keep such good shape was a question that plagued many minds.

one of those minds being tara’s who had been undying, undeniably crushing you for months now. she never really payed much attention to you, nor did she pay attention to your sport until she spotted you while accompanying mindy at practice.

that’s when she really got a good look at you, immediately plaguing mindy with questions of what you liked, were you single, what other hobbies you had, and so on and so on.

though, according to mindy, even if you had the smarts to back you up and were totally kind, you were some cliché player girl who brought all you pawns to watch you practice in attempts to impress and to her dismay it actually worked. besides your looks, something about doing a few tricks with your foot and a ball claimed to be very impressive to girls.

it’s not like this fazed the younger carpenter, she merely just wanted to get to know or so she claimed.

so after countless times of begging, pleading, and telling mindy how great she was—tara finally got the girl to agree to get you over for a movie night.

you were a little taken back as mindy wasn’t one of the teammate you were super close with but nonetheless you agreed, seeing it rude to decline such invitation.

“how do i look?” tara asked for the millionth time while flattening her long sleeve blue cropped top.

“you look fine!” mindy, chad, and amber all said in unison, clearly annoyed with the girl.

“why are you so stressed out anyways? you’ve had plenty of flings over before.”

“because, amber,” tara takes a seat next to her best friend.

“this girl is hot—like, ugh, and not to mention she’s really fucking smart.”

“not THAT smart” wes grumbled in jealously, trying to downplay you.

“smarter than you.” amber uttered, the boy shooting her a glare.

“she’s also super athletic, one more thing you’re not, wes.” chad teases the boy, earning a (weak) punch in the arm.

tara clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, you were super athletic. she thought, reminiscing on your speed on the field. you could out run anyone on you team, you could do a lot of tricks—some karate shit where you jump and spin to kick the ball, such a show off…a hot show off.

“your girlfriend’s here.” tara perks up at amber’s teasing words.

she makes sure to sit up right with straight posture, wanting you to think of her as respectable. she also made sure to wear blue because she had read humans can easily trust a person in blue.

the girl watched as you flashed that bright white smile to her best friend, greeting her with a humble hug. a six pack in one of your hands, while a bottle of wine occupied the other.

god, look at you. how could someone look so good in slight baggy pants, how jeans look at good on waist. and how could a band tee fit someone so perfect, i mean just look at the way the rolled up sleeves showcased your arms—not to mention the way it came up on your belly showing just how toned you were.

as hard as tara tried to find a contrast to your perfectness, there was no use—even your fucking eyebrows looked great.

chad greeted you with an obnoxious ‘bro hug’ as he was already familiar with you, obviously from tutoring but also playing beer pong together a few times. while wes gave you a shy handshake, still bitter for his loss in trivia night. and obviously you easily greeted mindy seeing as she was your teammate and the one who invited you.

“you’re tara, right? you come to practice with mindy sometimes. i’m y/n.” finally you greeted her, holding your hand out to which she immediately took to shake.

“ye—yeah. nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you too! i like your top.”

tara couldn’t help but smile to ear to ear, placing her hand against the blue fabric.

“i’m not sure what everyone liked so i got some buzz and wine.” you hold the items in your hand up.

“i’ll take that,” chad swipes the six pack from your hand.

“next time vodka will do.” amber took the bottle of grape wine.

“noted.” you chuckle, ironically taking the open seat next to tara.

you smelled so good. though, she could smell a light hint of weed off of you she could also smell sweetness.

“so, what are we watching tonight? i hear you’re really into horror movies, i’m a fan myself. i like the classics though, you know like uh, texas chainsaw and hellraiser.”

“i like elevated horror, like the babadook. that’s one of my favorites.”

“the babadook? never heard of it, you’ll have to show me it sometime.”

“never heard of it? we might just have to watch it tonight.”

“maybe so.” you flash your smile to the girl.

tara had no idea how she was being so calm right now, not with you so close—your arm right behind her, stretched out on the shoulder rest of the couch. or even just the simple fact you were talking horror to her, it was pillow-talk to the girl.

“hey minds, where’s anika tonight? i thought i’d finally get to meet the special lady.” you turn your attention to the girl occupied with her pouring herself a drink.

“she’s working a double tonight. next time though!”

now that you were really here, really in front of her and talking to her, she could intel that it was more than your looks that enflamed her. she noted that you were kind like mindy had ensured, by the way you made sure to include everyone let her know of this. you asked questions and found something in common with everyone to connect on a surface level.

she also grappled that you were actually smart, as you pulled random facts of knowledge out as you watched the movie. you went into detail on how the camera actually worked on the set of movies. even how the first camera was made in 1816 by some frenchmen.

and maybe you were a bit of a flirt, or player but that didn’t matter because at the end of the night when you asked tara for her number she had never done anything so fast with zero hesitation in her life.

“maybe you can show me some more horror movies…judging by your choice tonight i’d say you have good taste.”

“thank you…yeah, i’d love to show some others i enjoy.”

“mhm. when the others wake tell them i said goodnight and thank you for having me. also, please tell wes, again i’m sorry for beating him in trivia night.”

the girl snorts, nodding her head. “will do.”

“goodnight, tara.” once again you flash her a smile, a soft one.

━━━👩🏽‍💻part two seems far fetched but what do you guys think?

[caesariawritesstuff]

Under the Mistletoe

Summary: As a meager filing assistant for the GCPD, the last thing you expected was to be tricked under the mistletoe by a certain Edward Nygma.

Word Count: 1,244

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! I hope everyone has a wonderful day!

Holidays at the GCPD were something you never looked forward to it. It wasn’t the Christmas music, or the decorations, or the holiday spirit that got you down. In fact, you rather enjoyed it. But this time of year it seemed like all of Gotham’s criminals were out in full swing. And as a meager filing assistant, that left you with mountains of paperwork to sort through and put away.

You were dreading today, especially, since it was Christmas Eve. All you wanted was to spend the rest of your day huddled up on your couch, drinking hot chocolate and watching Christmas movies, but alas, you were forced to stay until your shift at ended at five. But as you walked into the GCPD, rubbing your cold hands together, you smiled at the decorations all around. Garland had been wrapped around the bannisters, and a small Christmas tree had been set up in one of the empty corners.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Edward Nygma fussing with it, adjusting the branches and ornaments hanging on it. He pushed his glasses farther up on his nose, studying his work. Ah, it must’ve been him who went through all this trouble to decorate the GCPD. Though…you admitted you appreciated what he did. Unlike everyone else, who seemed to walk right over to work he put in, you took notice of it.

Smiling, you stepped closer to him. “Hi, Ed,” you said.

He jumped, your voice taking him aback. But he turned to you, once more pushing the glasses further up onto the bridge of his nose. “Hello,” he said, addressing you. “I thought you would’ve had Christmas Eve off.”

“I could say the same for you,” you laughed.

He smiled, shuffling back and forth between his feet. “Did you know that in order to deliver gifts on Christmas Eve to every child on Earth, Santa would have to travel 221 billion miles, spending .0002 of a second at each home?”

“Oh really?” you asked, a bit surprised, but that was Ed for you – he was always spouting some strange trivia, fact, or riddle unprompted. But you smiled. “And just how did you figure that out?”

“Simple math,” he said, quickly explaining the complex equation that one would need to calculate Santa’s speed and delivery method.

You shook your head, laughing. “I can’t believe we’re sitting here discussing how long it takes Santa to deliver presents,” you said. “Anyways, it looks great Ed. Now I need to get to work before I get yelled at.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “See you around.”

You smiled and walked away, hurrying over to your desk. But as you sat down, you were surprised to find a small candy cane resting atop several folders. A small ribbon with a green note was attached to it, and when you opened the card, you discovered a riddle inside.

I always need to stay on my toes. I guide Santa's sleigh with my shiny red nose. Who am I?

Rudolph, obviously. You smiled. Ah, of course. Ed must’ve left it. It had the classic, tell-tale signs of something he’d do. You were sure he’d left one for everyone at their desks, it was the sort of kind, thoughtful gesture he’d do. You made a mental note to thank him later, but for now, you pushed your distractions aside and focused on the task at hand.

Time passed slowly and you worked for what felt like hours. When it finally came time for you to file some of the paperwork away, you stood and wandering into one of the nearby filing rooms, ready to deposit the folders into their designated spots. You’re just about to set one aside when you noticed a reindeer resting atop one filing cabinets. Rudolph, to be exact. And tucked underneath him was another candy cane, bearing a similar ribbon. Your curiosity piqued, you wandered over and grabbed the candy cane, opening the next note.

You can hold me and shake me, but I’m easy to break. I have lots of snow, even though it’s all fake! What am I?

A snow globe, you realized after a few moments of consideration. But you couldn’t help but wonder just what this meant, or where a snow globe even was. You wondered if there was another riddle hidden somewhere near a snow globe. Determined, you wandered out of the GCPD and through it’s halls, taking in all the Christmas decorations you could find. That was when you spotted it – a snow globe resting over on one of the desks. And just as you suspected, you found a third candy cane resting there. Once more, you picked it up and opened the note attached.

This is a green plant you see towards the end of the year, and when you stand under it, you might kiss somebody dear. What is it?

A mistletoe, you realized. Which meant there had to be a fourth candy cane hidden somewhere near another mistletoe. You grinned, wondering what the next riddle would be, finding yourself quite enjoying the little scavenger hunt. It was a nice distraction from the mountains of paperwork piling up before you.

You wandered through the GCPD, searching the doorways and ceilings for any sign of a mistletoe. And there – you spotted it right outside the breakroom, attached to the doorframe, vibrant green and hanging down slightly. You approached, desperate to know what was in store next, but when you wandered under it, you frowned.

Because there was nothing for you. No candy cane, no next riddle. Disappointment settled over you and you put your hands on your hips. Well, this certainly couldn’t be the end of the scavenger hunt, now could it?

That was when you heard a noise, the slight roughness of someone clearing their throat. You turned around to find Ed standing there.

“Hello,” he said, his cheeks pink. “Nice seeing you here.”

You held up one of the candy canes. “You’ve been leaving these around Ed. Tell me what I’m missing at this one?”

“Well, you’re…” he paused. Shifted on his feet, eyes darting everywhere else but you, before finally settling back on your face. “Did you know that mistletoes are actually poison to humans?”

You blinked, surprised. “No, actually. I didn’t know that.”

“You really want to keep it away from pets and children,” he continued quickly.

“Well…thanks for letting me know,” you said. You brushed a lock of hair behind your ear and looked away, unsure of what else to say. “Well, thank you for the candy canes. That’s really sweet.”

You’re just about to walk past him when he says, “Wait – wait. It’s bad luck to not kiss under the mistletoe.”

You paused, looking back at him. Studied the way he rung his hands together nervously, looking back at you and then away. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you smiled. Well, he was pretty cute.

“Mr. Nygma, was this all a ploy to get me under the mistletoe?” you asked.

He smiled, his eyes sparkling. “What if it was?”

You laughed. For someone who was so shy and awkward, his ploy to get you under the mistletoe was rather sneaky. “Well, you’re quite the riddle, aren’t you?” you asked.

He only grinned wider, but you smiled, grabbed his shoulders, and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him. Maybe a kiss was the perfect reward for solving his riddles after all.

[reyesstrand]

I wish you would write a fic where they meet because Carlos arrest TK right at the bar when TK goated the guys into a fight.

Carlos’ old life ends and his new one begins the moment he steps foot the appropriately named dive bar, The Trap.

He often finds himself here when he’s working this beat, especially on humid Saturday nights. He pictures the overturned furniture and broken pool cues; the sweating beer bottles and claustrophobic atmosphere. Miller is hauling out a bloodied guy in a flannel when Carlos pushes through the crowd, and Carter’s got another in cuffs.

“Your instigator’s getting checked out by medical,” Miller tells Carlos, and he nods, setting his shoulders. Peanuts crunch under his boots as he spots a lone paramedic at a high top table, her kit opened up as she shines a light in the eyes of a third man.

A third man who takes Carlos’ breath away. He’s the kind of wet dream Carlos barely allowed himself to acknowledge as a kid; all effortlessly cool in a form-fitting jacket and tight jeans. As Carlos gets closer, he takes in a sharp jaw and pouty lips and beautiful eyes that flit around. Carlos can’t quite read him—is he nervous? Scared of ruining a reputation? Too drunk and bothered to care? He closes the distance between them and knows immediately his last guess is wrong. His guy’s shaky, sure, but his gaze is clear and strong and somber when it meets Carlos’. It’s almost enough to make him falter.

“Officer,” the paramedic says, nodding at him and snapping the moment in two. Carlos can still feel the man’s eyes on him, taking him in, absorbing something from him like osmosis, but he focuses on her assessment that besides some split knuckles and a few bruises, Mr. Strand will be perfectly fine. The name is familiar, like a bit of trivia just on the tip of his tongue, but it slips away from him.

“Mr. Strand,” Carlos settles his hands on his hips, observing as many little details as he can. Especially up close, Carlos can tell this wasn’t just a drunken fist fight. “Want to tell me why you’re getting in fights for no reason?”

The man’s jaw clenches. “You don’t have to do all of this. I started it, we all got the shit kicked out of us, end of story.”

Carlos hums. The paramedic—June—finishes packing back up and squeezes the man’s shoulder as she departs. His expression is suddenly genuine as he thanks her, and Carlos tries to put the pieces together.

“Mr. Strand—”

The man wrinkles his nose. “That sounds so formal.”

“What should I call you then?” Carlos asks, unhooking his cuffs from his belt.

“TK.”

“TK,” Carlos repeats, trying out the taste of his name against his tongue, memorizing the feeling of it in his mouth even as he reads TK his rights and tries not to react to how he blows a zero.

TK’s eyes find him again, stormy and yet unwavering. Carlos can’t look, as he secures cuffs around his wrists, taking in the reddened, thin skin over his knuckles; the smear of blood on the back of his hand where he must’ve wiped at that busted lip before medical looked him over. They walk slowly out of the bar, most of the patrons already unbothered and going back to their previous conversations. Insects chirp in the distance, as Carlos gets TK settled in his back seat.

“I only wanted—”

Carlos’ gaze flicks to TK’s in the rearview mirror.

“Never mind.”

Tapping his thumb against the wheel, Carlos frowns. Then he calls in to dispatch and his sirens wail as he pulls away from the bar. He shouldn’t be talking to a man he just arrested like this, he can already hear the reprimand; the critique in his father’s voice. He pushes forward anyway.

“Whatever it is…I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

(i wish you would write a fic where…game!)

[shigayokagayama]

Could you do Teru for the ask game?

oh boy. ok.

Sexuality Headcanon:

gay. specifically. ok. maybe my most strange and specific take. but i feel like teru being into girls would kind of make his character arc... weaker? bizarre sentence i know but. hear me out. of the shots we get of him before mob enters the picture, 2/3 of them involve him flirting with girls. post mob we never ever see him with a girl again aside from one omake where there are a crowd of them trying to ask him out on valentines day who he is turning down. i feel like we are supposed to see these relationships as being a part of his fake, "perfect" persona he sheds rather than anything that came out of general interest. he's dating them because he's the handsome popular guy and that's what he's supposed to do, not because he's actually interested at all.

Gender Headcanon:

i like bigender teru a lot

A ship I have with said character:

terumob GIANT ASTERIX in the very specific context of being post confession arc. i see heart eye panel as the exact moment his false, idolized image of mob fades away and he sees him for what he truly is and still chooses to love him flaws and all. i really do think they are able to understand each other on a much deeper level than most people because they have both seen each other at their lowest and still chosen to continue wanting to be in each others lives. they both coped with their powers by creating these perfect masks to show the world (teru's as the prodigy and mob as the nice guy who will do anything for you and never ask anything in return) and were the first to be able to identify each other's facade because they recognized themselves in them and 💥. they mean a lot to me. also i do think the "they dont hang out much post canon" thing is a slight misconception, teru says they dont plan hangouts much and usually just run into each other and hang out from there. that with teru's "you should ask me to hang out more" gives such "im so used to other people making the first move that i havent developed the skills to let people know that i want them in my life" energy it makes me a little insane. anyway.

A BROTP I have with said character:

i need him ritsu and shou to run in circles hitting each other with rocks. i think any two of them on their own hang out normally and if you have the three of them + mob its normal but just the three of them and they start inventing games like "powerline volleyball"

A NOTP I have with said character:

pre confession arc terumob. like mob would never because tsubomi but if they did date it would last one month and they would never speak again itd be so bad (spoken from experience by a person with similar attachment issues who has dated people ive been hyperfixated on before)

A random headcanon:

HES SUCH A FILM BRO I KNOW HES A FILM BRO. this kid's letterboxxed is comprised solely of 1960s horror films made on a budget of 2 dollars and if you watch any of them with him he will provide trivia the entire film. also he has npd source fucking look at him

General Opinion over said character:

hes my favoriteeeeeeee the first time he showed up with the wig i went "alright this is gonna be my favorite character" and i spent the first half of season 2 mournfully going "i miss haystack boy :(" every episode he wasnt in. and then i read the manga and i got crazy insane over him. i really do feel like the anime dumbs him down a lot manga teru is a completely different person and hes so interesting i need to like. tear holes in my drywall. god. teru.

[circeyoru]

Hello~ Small thing but I’ve been thinking about Alastor in the Unwanted Soul series trying to get Reader to sing and dance with him. I feel like Reader would refuse to do that stuff but sometimes he catches them humming, especially anime OSTs lol. He doesn’t know what song it is but he’s happy to hear it anyway.

OH OH AND HE’D BE REALLY HAPPY IF THEY ABSENTMINDEDLY HUMMED A SONG HE’S PLAYED AROUND THE HOUSE BEFORE. He’d be so touched, like, they like the music he likes lol. Even better if they heard the song between him and Vox over the radio/TV and was humming that or any other song Alastor sang.

Sorry, just wanted to talk about that cuz obviously music and singing is really big in Hell and Alastor clearly loves that stuff. He’d be psyched if Reader enjoyed his songs or joined in with him but it’s highly unlikely Reader would actually sing or dance with him. I love this series and I agree with the other Anon that this is my favorite series. I keep checking your blog for updates. Thank you for writing for us!

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}

I'm literally treating these asks as trivia. Interesting but too small of a part to put in the story.

But, thanks for your words! Really!! I'm happy writing these parts and answering your questions for this! I can't stop saying that I never expected this series to blow up like this. so THANK YOU guys again!! (I need to learn more 'thank you' words...)

Back to the ask.

Now Reader/you are something that has a thing for music. There's no specific type you like but if it vibes with you, you like it. You're aware that Hell's a musical place, you got quite the shock when Lucifer first sang to you when he was trying to convince you to live. Yeah, awkward...

You just accepted it afterwards.

Ho ho, you hum and sing. On the spur of the moment. You even dance too, your memories good that you can replicate dance moves after vibing with the song and dance chorepgraphy. You did it anytime at home.

That is, before Alastor came into your life.

You kept these to yourself, or you would shut the door and ward off Alastor with your pages. Then you can do it. Sing and dance. But, of course, Alastor knew this little habit of yours and didn't point it out so he could enjoy it without you taking more measures to hide it. You hum in front of him, while he doesn't know what music you were humming, he enjoys it altogether.

This breaks when Alastor gives you his soul. It was a somewhat normal day, the trigger point was you putting your foot down and telling (not asking) him to leave. He just breaks off into a song, specifically *Stalker's Tango*. Take it as an intimidation tactic, but he was being very convincing. You were aware of his love for you and want for your attention, so it wasn't scary but annoying to you. (hope you guys read part 4 already) You return his declaration with a song of your own *I Can't Decide*, you accepted his soul to show him his mistake, not knowing that it was his plan for you to care for him.

Yeah, Alastor was eating it all up. The fact that you counter with a song too. Music to his ears. The fact that you were thinking this much about him. It's good. A good start.

You know how his radio could talk and play tracks (in the pilot)? Now Alastor plays romantic songs here and there in your home, though careful not to drown out your videos and music. He did a double take when he heard a double of the songs he was playing, it came from your room, then there was your soft humming. He'd lean against the wall next to your door and listen with a fond smile. He was aware that you could more easily do things on your own, like searching up the songs he played without asking him, then here you were enjoying it in secret. He won't say a word, treating it a secret between you two.

Alastor gave you a radio that connects to his staff, sometimes letting you listen in on the songs and as a way of communication. You only knew that when you heard his reprise of Charlie's *Inside Every Demon Is A Rainbow*, you won't admit to Alastor that his version was better and more accurate. You were actually hooked on *Stayed Gone* and hummed it a few times, especially Alastor's ending verse. You and Alastor reenacted the whole song when he was allowed to visit you, but since Alastor was interested to see you singing his verses, you sang his parts and Alastor sang Vox's. It was heaven-sent. He was somewhat offended that you liked *Hell's Greatest Dad* though, cause you were more hooked on Lucifer's beginning verse.

Now though, Alastor asks for your hand to sway a bit. You comply and Alastor would be humming some song, he makes an effort to take an interest in your songs because you were secretive on your interest. He tries (and purposely fails) on singing your songs, then you'd be correcting him and teaching him with a teasing side smile. He doesn't care for the songs and music, he cares that you like them.

[newstedz]

snowfall ☆ kirk hammett

okay so i'm relatively new to this but i just was so inspired by @mustainegf 's prompt that I just kept writing and writing and you get the idea. basic gist is that kirk calls you over to watch an old movie with him, its all fluff (timeframe is around 1987, post damage inc. tour.) also sorry for the incredibly generic title I literally cannot think of anything else

exhausted was an understatement.

you'd finally gotten a day off, and god was it needed. you barely had any energy to get out of bed to grab a snack, much less go outside. besides, it was freezing, and as much as you loved the idea of snow, it loses its charm when you're stuck waiting at the bus stop in the middle of a blizzard.  the day is yours, and ideally it would have been spent alone, tucked into bed. but then, you got a call. your stomach instantly dropped. you anticipated it'd be your boss, fabricating some asinine reason for you to appear at work today, even though nobody in their right mind would be out in the cold just to go to some shitty retail store. you pick up the phone with a groan. however, you're met with another familiar voice. one you weren't expecting, and suddenly, that dread in the pit of your stomach is replaced with butterflies.

"hey!" kirk beams from the other end of the phone. "sorry- did I wake you up?"

"no." you reply. granted, you weren't fully awake, but you didn't have the heart to make him think he may have been burdening you.

"oh.. okay!" he says, not seeming to need much convincing. "anyways, i just got this tape, you've gotta see this. it's some horror movie from like, the 50's or something. I got the tape  from this guy, he- I mean, that's not really important, I guess." he says, his enthusiasm dwindling as his voice grows more shy. "but I was wondering, I mean, i'd really like for you to come over and watch it with me. if you want." he offers sheepishly.

you can't help but smile. if it were anyone else, you'd consider making up some elaborate excuse about how you caught a stomach bug or fell ill after standing in the cold for too long. but you've known Kirk since you were kids, and you can't remember the last time you guys got to really hang out. between you working and his touring schedule, things just never seemed to work. it was something special to him, too. you knew how involved he was in tape trading, horror, and all that stuff you couldn't quite wrap your head around. but for him, you'd do it in a heartbeat. you gaze out the window. it's still snowing, but it had slowed to flurries. a thin layer of snow coats the grass and branches of the trees. you can't pass this up.

"sure."

"really? nice! so um. I'll see you." he exclaims, abruptly ending the call before you could even ask when he wanted you to be there. you sigh, getting up and heading for the shower.  one long bus ride later, you arrive at his door. as soon as you knock he rushes to the door, trying (and failing) to hide his excitement. "hey!" he grins, showing off his adorable, crooked smile. he steps aside allowing you to enter. "sorry its a mess in here. i just got back.." he murmurs. you cant help but laugh. "its whatever, man. i've seen worse from you." you reply, earning a chuckle from him. as soon as you two get settled, the snow gets heavy. very heavy. seems like you made it just in time. kirk seems to notice too. "looks like you're stuck with me."

_

the next hour is spent watching the movie, though it seems like it was only used as a catalyst for the two of you to play catch-up and for him to infodump trivia about the film. though you can't focus on the movie, at least not now. you're too focused on the way the light shines off his face and curls. the way he incessantly giggles when recalling a crazy road story. the snow is piling up outside, and it's only now that you realize he was trying to talk to you.

"hey, did you hear me?" he asks, tilting his head. he figured he was talking your ear off, though you really could listen to him all day.

"huh? i- no, you're good. i'm just.. cold." you attempt to wave it off unconvincingly, only leaving you to be met with more of his concerns. "are you okay? you were kinda just staring. are you bored? we can do something else, if you want." he murmurs as he gazes briefly at you, only to shift his focus to the TV screen. it could be the lighting, but you could've sworn you saw the lightest tinge of color come to his cheeks. 

"what about you?" you ask. the whole time you've been here, you've gotten the basic stuff, yeah. but it wasn't as personal as it used to be between the two of you. you used to stay up for hours talking about your worries, your goals. you were the first one he told about anything, and vice versa. but now it seemed like he was nervous just from being the same room with you. 

"what about me? i'm fine." he shrugs, now trying to shift the attention back to the movie.

"then why wont you look at me?" the question sorta just slips out. you didn't mean to pry, today was supposed to be lighthearted, but kirk's reaction seems to confirm your suspicions of there being something more, as he begins to stumble over his words. you place your hand gently over his. "you know you can talk to me, right?" as your eyes meet, his face goes red. "it's stupid." kirk murmurs again, though he knows he can't hide this from you anymore. "i feel like.. i'm running out of time. I mean- you're not always gonna be waiting around for me, and it's like whenever i'm gone, i.." he trails off, shifting his gaze away from you yet again. he takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I like you. like really like you, and I don't wanna drift off from you or mess anything up-" kirk rambles on, but you've heard enough. you laugh, suddenly scooting closer to him. all you give is an affectionate "shut up" before your lips meet. you move away to see his shocked expression, but he quickly swaps it for a huge, dorky grin as he pulls you in for another.

a few more shared kisses later, kirk pulls away, staring back at the window. he turns back to you. "y'know.. it's pretty nasty out there. maybe you should stay the night." he grins, not subtle in the slightest. you can't help but laugh and nod. suddenly, the room feels so much warmer.

[chunkymamatam]

The Obey Me! stories were very entertaining 😊

If you dont mind sharing more, I would appreciate it ❤️

Of course Of course!

Again this was all really fast pace when it happened so like if it seems like so much happened at once, it did, now imagine how that shit felt when it happened.

We were at when Asmo got all pissy and defensive when him and Satan asked me who I'm making a pact with next. I was joking like "You, Asmo, obviously, cutie."

The way this man was like "Do you think I'm that stupid? None of us are as Stupid as Mammon"

I was obviously like "It was a joke."

All this man had to say was "oh"

BITCH APOLOGIZE CUZ YOU ASKED AND I MADE A JOKE WHY'D YOU ASK HOE??? This all happened before I made a pact with Levi idk if I mentioned that but yeah. Nah cuz imma be honest it scared the piss out of me to see Levi try to pounce on me because I got all the trivia questions from the anime right and he couldn't believe I wasn't cheating. The others were however giving me easy questions but that wasn't on my command lmfao

He was a pouty baby when he admitted defeat in the observatory /aff, but yeah not long after I went up into the attic I was in the kitchen and Mammon force fed me Beel's pudding. Bro tried to turn Beel on me and I literally started crying bro. This man is huge and I already have a fear of men so this was not helping bro. I also know how food aggressive he is so I dead ass thought this was it. He asks me if I ate the pudding and I threw Mammon under the bus and was like

"He forced me to take a bite. I told him to put it back."

I've never seen a man's head turn so fast. Man was gonna murder tf out of him. He threw him through the wall and shit. I had to stay in Beel's room for a while cuz that destroyed my room lmfao and pretty soon after that Luke showed up on the doorstep cuz he had a fight with Simeon probably over his prejudice against the demons but I didn't ask so eh. Me and Beel decide to hide him like a good friend and this mfer goes missing. I get there to the basement fast enough that that he's not gonna rock Luke's shit but like he's still pretty pissed so like the traumatized mediator I am, I walk over and grab the book from him and go.

"Hold on, Luke doesn't even know what this is and what it does. There's no need to be hasty, you're a very reasonable man Lucifer. Here's the grimoire back." and I almost had him calmed down enough to see reason and fucking Luke snatched the book out of my hand, I could've beat his ass myself ngl.

I forget what he said to Lucifer but it pissed him off to the point of wanting to kill him again and he threatened as much so Beel jumps in front of him and is like "No punish me instead because its my fault! I let him stay in my room."

So now Lucifer is trying to kill both of them and I tell him no. This man has the audacity to ask my suicidal ass if I wanted to die. I gave this man a look and he realized who he just asked and was like "Actually don't answer that.. One of them is dying. You're going to choose"

I was like "uhm no one is gonna die." This man starts yelling at me that I'm just a human and all this shit about how weak I am. Well, my stubbornness makes up for my lack of physical strength so fuck you lmfao. Anyway he mauled me and I woke up in Beels bed, he looked so relieved that I woke up poor man. He offered me a pact cuz he felt like he owed me and I didn't want him to feel like he was indebted to me or anything so I said yeah to it.

Then the sleep over happened. Man Asmo was wild because he one got us sucked into a labyrinth by his Ex and also he was literally trying to use his charm on me which like why tf are you looking in my eyes like that??? Its hurting autism. Anyway we almost died cuz of his bullshit. That was just the first day too. The next day this man was fucking up the scavenger hunt for the other groups and it was making me and Simeon uncomfortable and Simeon said something which probably hurt his feelings more because they used to be brothers in heaven. He ran off after bitching Simeon out and then I got sent to try and speak some reason to him.

He didn't like that either cuz he was like "You can't tell me what to do. I'm a demon this is what demons do, they ruin things and by the way I'll never make a pact with you." And while he was talking all this shit he was cornering me between the rail and himself. I was so scared he was gonna throw me over and just say I killed myself. Then he has the audacity to be like "Actually if you can get a picture of Lucifer sleeping I'll do it" And I just nod my head cuz I'm fucking terrified bro. I tell Mammon, Levi and Beel we agree to go on and try to do it cuz money, spite, fuck it? idk. but what's important is we got stuck in the dungeon again with Solomon this time. We almost get eaten but Solomon summoned Asmo and did some magic shit so Asmo could better charm this snake. We ended up getting out again but Asmo was whining about his beauty sleep the whole time /Pf. Not long after that (I think? Its been 2 years almost give me a break please sob) during the dinner ball thing that Diavolo did when Lucifer was making his way over to threaten me, I was so violently trying to avoid him. I ended up getting passed to him anyway. I wanted cry man. This man was pretty much trying to crush me against him while saying shit like "I don't know what you're planning but you need to stop before i make you."

BESTIE I HAVE DONE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING INTENTIONALLY PACT WISE OTHER THAN WHAT I WAS FORCED TO AND WHAT WAS NECCESSARY PACT WISE. Nah cuz I shit you not I literally never asked for a pact with any of them other than Mammon and Levi, They all came out and asked me and for one reason or another I was like "fuck it we ball." Anyway, Funny little side note, instead of packing my actually pretty dresses/outfits that were good enough for this occasion Barbatos ended up packing my sequence dress. I've asked him why he hates me on multiple occasions because of it and its our little joke now. He said "I simply did not see the other options" smh time demon, for shame /j

Solomon saved me from Lucifer and the unlocked my magic power for me to use. Well dumb dumb Mammon (/aff) got us stuck in the labyrinth AGAIN and I summoned Asmo and Asmo was like "OOOO Power GIVE. we can make a pact teehee" I'm gonna be honest I agreed to the pact because genuinely that man kinda scared me. We obviously end up getting out and that night Asmo was all up in my bed just looking me over and pointing out all of my details. He was fr even trying to look in my mouth bro ┗( T﹏T )┛

Mammon's jealous ass came in after Asmo basically illuded to trying to fuck. Then one thing lead to another and all of the brothers and Solomon ended up in the room. Someone threw the first pillow and suddenly it was an all out warzone until Lucifer and Diavolo walk in to see what the commotion was. Lucifer wanted to yell at us but Diavolo stopped him and wanted to join. It was no longer a war and just a straight up massacre after that bro.

Lucifer said "hit me if you dare" and obviously I didn't value my life because as him and Diavolo are killing everyone with their deadly ass heat targeting pillows I sneak up behind this man and smack him in the back of the head with a pillow. I shit you not the room froze and he started slow turning I SWEAR HIS EYES WERE GLOWING

I started praying and begging Simeon to help me lmfao I have never run so fast in my life. I managed to hide with Simeon under the covers. I was terrified in the best way lmfao

Okay that's all the mental energy I have for this one. Feel free to ask for more if you want lol