#yet somehow managed to write almost every day so far

[nekohrine]

I'd really love to write something besides dialogue but those bitches just wouldn't stop talking

[schoenpepper]

Here Kitty Kitty Kitty (Housewardens)

Intro: You're a wild little thing, aren't you? Let's see how the NRC dorm leaders deal with you, then.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, not much i think idk tell me if i should pop a warning somewhere, it's reaaally long

A/N: My goodbye gift before I die in college. Not that I'd be too busy though, my prof list isn't even complete yet. Hollywood lied to me about college it all sucks (not even started first day yet). Oh this was a request btw so I hope you like it anon. Even though I'm not sure I really followed through with the request I'm sorry.

Masterlist

Headcanon order (on the what he thinks of you part):

Fierce, reckless, territorial, soft to people close to you

You tried to tell Neige you weren’t interested in the National Arcane Academy Culture Fair, you really did. But your best friend is a lot less of a pushover than he seems to be, hanging onto your arm and pulling you right to the middle of the chaos. NRC is dark, dreary, and every corner seems to be black and covered with spiderwebs. Which, honestly, is quite the refreshing turn from the bright white glitter you’d gotten used to in RSA.

“Their science club is doing a cafe!”

The black-haired, starry-eyed boy points at a spot on the map. “It’s not too far from this place, maybe we can drop by and try out their treats.” he smiles happily. You look away (two years is not enough time to get used to the sparkles that magically appear whenever he beams) and sigh. “Where are the dwarves? Won’t they enjoy going to the cafe more than I would? I told you I was just fine sitting on a bench somewhere until the SDC.”

“Huh? Oh, you’re right. Where are they—” you pull him back as he turns, but not before he bumps into someone.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking…”

“Hm? It’s fine, oh hey, aren’t you that superstar on the news?”

The ginger is getting uncomfortably close to your friend’s personal space, so you get in front of Neige, shielding him from this nosy NRC student.

“Y/N!” Neige gives you a worried look, tugging on your sleeve, “I should apologize.”

“What? He said it’s fine already.”

“Ace, are you disturbing these visitors?”

At the sound of the new voice, the young man in front of you straightens up almost unnecessarily straight, back taut and expression nervous. A short student with strawberry red hair is accompanied by a tall student with glasses and green hair. The redhead seems very uptight, with the way he drags down this ‘Ace’ person to his level by the collar to chastise him from apparently ‘disturbing’ you. Neige waves from behind you, trying to stop them while making sure not to leave your circle of protection. “No, we bumped into him, it was my fault really.”

“Ah, I see,” he nods as he lets go of the other person’s collar, “my apologies that you had to see that shameful act. If you need anything, please let the culture fair committee members know, you will recognize them by this badge.”

“Cool, but we’re just going to the cafe. Thanks for the help, bye,” you cut the conversation short and pull Neige away.

“Y/N, that was very rude.”

You shrug, “What was I supposed to do? Didn’t you see that guy has an on and off switch for exploding like an active volcano? Did you want to be on the receiving end of his next outburst?”

“Don’t be so judgmental, Y/N, you barely know the person,” Neige sighs.

“I don’t need to know him.”

Exchange program:

It turns out that you did, in fact, need to know him. Neige somehow managed to convince you to sign up for an exchange student program between RSA and NRC, so you got sorted into Heartslabyul and the guy you insulted at the culture fair is now your housewarden.

Ace and Deuce are okay, if not a few cells short of a brain sometimes. You do enjoy getting caught up in their shenanigans whenever the dorm leader and his eight hundred something rules get a tad bit too stifling. At some point, their dumb (affectionate) tactics manage to work their way into your heart, so you begrudgingly call them friends.

You think Cater’s a good guy, if not a bit social-media-obsessed. You don’t mind having him nearby because he generally just chats about random things. As long as you manage to put up with him asking for a pic every once in a while, he’s not awful. Trey is a comforting presence. He may or may not have Pavlov’d you with the way he always has a sweet treat with him, making you calmer and more susceptible to behaving within his general vicinity.

Riddle is a whole ‘nother thing altogether; you make him mad. Er, madder than usual, at least. Something must be in the tea in Heartslabyul because you and the housewarden in the same room is a guarantee for a beheading. Usually you, but there have been a fair number of innocent victims who’d just happened to get caught up in your squabbles. Riddle is a flame and you’re a tankful of gasoline, always with a witty comeback or something else that’s sure to make every situation worse.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Think a dry, wooden cottage smack dab in the middle of the woods and a wildfire. That’s how you and Riddle get along. You’re hot tempered; pot, meet kettle. You’re sarcastic and snippy, traits that he most certainly does not appreciate. Every time he’s lecturing you about something or the other, you speak. And every word that comes out of your mouth makes him want to collar you.

…Another one? How did his dorm somehow get stuck with the most ‘act first, think later’ individuals? You give Riddle a headache, but don’t worry, he’s all too used to it. He will bail you out of trouble and every stupid situation you find yourself in, but also, he will assign you a 5000 word apology essay each time he does.

Riddle gets it. It’s a sign of disrespect when people touch your things without your explicit consent, and he’d get mad too if it was him in that situation. Does, however, do a double-take when he sees you tackle someone to the ground after you hear them insult Neige, screaming something about “your people”. Turns a blind eye.

Since…since when have you and that duo been so close? He’s not mad (for once). But he does feel rather…upset. You’re always such a spiky individual, so to see you almost melting into the couch, head on Deuce’s lap as he patted your hair and legs over Ace’s, it’s almost surreal. He’s not angry, no, but then why does he still feel unhappy?

Love story climax:

“I just don’t understand. Why do I feel so uncomfortable when I see Y/N together with other people?”

Trey hums from where he’s standing in the kitchen, letting Riddle know that he’s listening while whipping the bowl of cream.

“You’re smart,” Trey chuckles, “you’ll figure it out.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and looks back down at the chopping board, cutting off the top of another strawberry. It wasn’t an illness, but maybe if he diagnosed it like one, he could arrive at a proper conclusion. He mentally retraces his steps and every unpleasant feeling that had welled up inside him. He feels okay, good maybe, when he sees you. He gets mad when you retort while he’s trying to discipline you, but even then, he seems to have started to find it rather…cute? And he gets unreasonably anxious when you’re so close to your friends.

…No. No. Absolutely not.

Riddle Rosehearts is not in love with you.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

You still make him mad, but now instead of being collared, you just need to coax him a little and this strawberry shortcake is ready to fold like a collapsible tent. Make it up to him by being sweet and loving him lots, okay? If it’s to other people, he doesn’t really care as long as it doesn’t get violent. You are exempt from the apology letters though, congrats (he thinks that time writing them could be better spent with him).

Riddle probably needs heart medication at some point, you’re going to drive him either insane or to his inevitable death. He gets a lot more protective of you now because you’re his partner, but please please please at least try not to get hurt. Or try to consider if you might get hurt before doing something. Or how about this, you call him up before you make any decision at all?! Yeah. Heart attack.

Honestly, he probably doesn’t realize that you have a tendency to be overly possessive and territorial of him. Riddle isn’t exactly the type of guy to frequently get love confessions (he should be), you know? So the only time he nottices is when you catch him in the middle of equestrian club meetings or something, and he’s just a step too close to some newbie. Tells you to keep it down and assures you, his love for you is real and unchanging.

Happy guy. He thinks he’s silly when he gets so giddy at the smallest things you do, like kissing the back of his hand, but he can’t exactly stop the somersaults his heart does whenever you’re being so affectionate with him. Regardless, it’s quite rude to make public displays of affection, so be reserved and try to keep it all in private. Will blush at every little thing until like, two years into the relationship.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Neige’s words are cut short when you tackle the hyena beastman to the ground. He looks at you, horrified, and was likely about to chastise you before you pulled out a familiar leather wallet from the beastman’s pocket. “Thief,” you hiss, “you picked the wrong students to mess with.”

“Tsk, [laugh with me].”

The hyena rolls around and you’re unable to control your own movements, rolling with him. You’re lying on the ground when the magic snaps but he’s already running away, Neige’s wallet in hand. “Oh no you don’t!”

You weave through the crowd of students and booths, trying to keep your eyes trained on the mop of caramel hair that was zooming farther and farther away from you. You finally spot him by one of the stages, where he sprints by a tall lion beastman who catches him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten. You come to a stop, panting lightly as you glare at the lion beastman. “Is this guy a friend of yours? He has something of mine, so you better have him give it back quick or I’ll—”

“Ruggie,” The lion yawns, “no stealing during the culture fair.”

“Finders keepers!”

“Ruggie.”

“Fine.”

You get Neige’s wallet back and immediately turn tail and leave. These NRC students are freaks (no stealing during the culture fair? then it’s okay to steal any other time?).

Exchange program:

Something something it’s better to make friends than enemies. While not a saying you’ve ever given a fuck about before, it’s hard not to care when it led you to where you are now. Due to a mass voting in RSA for whoever to send to the exchange program, you’ve been bolted out as the sacrificial lamb (that’s what you get for always picking fights). Savanaclaw takes you in because you wrestle one of their dorm members to the ground on your very first day.

Jack Howl is probably one of the closest things you’ll see to another RSA student in this place. You get along well with him because he doesn’t take your quips at face value (or rather, he doesn’t care for your insults and dry sarcasm). Ruggie takes a bit more getting used to, but he’s a really cool dude when you manage to keep all your valuables away from arm’s reach.

And Leona…he’s like a stray cat. And you’re also a stray cat. And you’re in the same dark alley, coexisting together. You ignore each other most of the time unless the other gets a tad bit too close. It’s not too bad when the boundaries are in place.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

He’s too tired and sleepy most of the time to deal with your temper. Not as if you can do anything about it though, try as you might, you can never win against Leona. You can talk crap about how lazy he is or whatever, he doesn’t care, but whenever you even attempt to fight him you’re already subdued one way or another. Leona thinks you should pick and choose your battles well.

While Leona is a big believer of instincts, there’s a fine line between believing and charging in like a bull seeing red at the first tingle of a gut feeling. He’ll let out a sigh but still, he’ll fish you out of trouble and claim you’re bothering his naptime and he’ll totally leave you to fend for yourself the next time the consequences of your stupid actions find you (he will not).

He’s a lion, of course he’s territorial. So he understands your need to stake your claim on a certain place or item, as long as it’s not something he’d already claimed as his own. Leaves you about it. Territorial about people though? Same thing. Do as you will, he can’t muster the energy to care.

A low growl is emitted from his chest, pupils constricted into pinpricks, ears and tail stiff—Leona isn’t dumb. He knows that the instinctual actions of his body mean something, and in this case, it means he’s annoyed watching you be all buddy buddy with Ruggie. You, the little porcupine you are, laughing so easily with the guy you swore was your enemy, it makes him gnash his teeth in anger (envy).

Love story climax:

He can’t get you out of his head.

The few months you’ve been at NRC, you’ve started to become an existence that he didn’t mind constantly having around. He’d found you annoying at first, so why is it that now, just seeing you so happy with Ruggie is enough to drive him insane? He keeps his eyes closed but he can’t sleep. You’re still lingering in his vision, a hazy mirage by the moonlight of the savanna. Why can’t he stop thinking about you?

Why can’t he stop thinking about your hair and how soft it looked to touch? Why can’t he stop thinking about how incredible your skin would feel on his? Why can’t he stop thinking about your lips…?

Fuck.

Leona rolls over in his bed, burying his face in a pillow. Maybe if he suffocated to death he wouldn’t be haunted by thoughts of you. But, if you’re so willing to be close to Ruggie, why not Leona? He could be your…friend too. Do you already think of him as a friend? You tend to run to him with that stupid smile and chatter away even when he tells you to go away, is that a sign that you saw him as some sort of confidant? Whatever.

Leona’s not good with emotions, but he’s the farthest thing from a coward.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Okay wildfire, Leona likes it, but you need to tone it down a bit unless you want your ass handed back to you on a platter. No he’s not threatening you, it’s just that you should already know the folks in NRC aren’t scared of fights. No he doesn’t care that you’re not scared of fights. Stop picking fights. If you sass him back enough he will sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

There’s a reason why he always has one hand on you, whether on your hip or the back of your neck. It’s not because he’s a clingy kitty (stop teasing, he’s not a cat!), rather, it’s so he can easily stop you when a situation arises and you decide on something he wishes you didn’t decide on. Now that you’re in a relationship, he’ll sit you down and start a long discussion on why you should learn to think before you act.

Let’s get something straight, you are part of his territory, not the other way around. He’s just as protective and possessive of you as you are to him, if not more, so pretty much everyone knows to book it when they see you two together. Any poor soul who has a crush on either of you quickly get the picture.

Tsk, you’re so clingy (affectionate). Unlike most guys on the list, Leona doesn’t give two shits about other people, ergo, he doesn’t care when you kiss or touch him in public. In fact, he encourages it. Go ahead, mark him up. But if he reciprocates, he’ll tell you he’s just doing what you’ve been doing, so you have no right to refuse.

You knew it was instantly trouble when the person he bumped into had all the tells of a bad mood. You push Neige behind you while he apologizes profusely to the stranger. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry!” His words obviously went unheard because this annoyingly tall NRC student only grimaced, and you know from experience that when someone bares their teeth at you, it means they haven’t forgiven your pitiful apology.

“You can’t see where you’re going, hah, maybe I should squeeze you ‘til your eyes pop out? Maybe you’ll see it then?”

Let it be known that though you were half this asshole’s size, that did not mean you were going to take this lying down.

“Hey, back off. He said it was an accident.”

You feel Neige tugging on your sleeve. “Hey, Y/N let’s just—”

“I don’t care if it was an accident, I’m in a slump and you just made it worse, y’know?”

“Well I don’t care if you don’t care. You better back off before I take your slump and shove it down your stupid—”

Another unfamiliar figure approaches, this one shorter than the asshole, with purplish-white hair and glasses, yet somehow looking just as dangerous with the kind smile he has on. He gives the guy in front of you a very pissed-off look behind the carefully maintained grin. You think he might be trying to whisper, but it’s not very quiet.

“Floyd! I told you to sell the drinks while Jade and I are gone, what are you doing here?”

“Ehhh, but I didn’t feel like selling drinks.”

They’re gone before you even know what’s going on.

The interaction only cemented what you’d known before you even got here; everyone in NRC is a weirdo.

Exchange program:

Apparently, someone’s great idea for a prank is signing you up to be an exchange student to NRC. So, hurray.

You’re plopped into Octavinelle because the very reliable headmaster of NRC drew lots from some magical (rigged) thing. It doesn’t take you too long to realize that the quick-to-violence guy you’d met a little while back is one of the frontrunners of the dormitory. Thankfully, your second meeting has Floyd in a better mood than before, and he decides that you’re interesting before bestowing you your very own nickname; catfish. You do not appreciate it.

Jade is easy enough to get along with, you’ve discovered it’s good to just do as he says and as long as he has nothing to gain from it, he won’t torment you (too much). Though, he does make your hackles rise every once in a while because dear Seven he gives you the heebie-jeebies, even despite the perfectly polite thing he has going on.

Azul, it takes you way too long to befriend. He starts off avoiding you almost entirely, like you’re a contagious disease (if only you knew). You’re not the type to suck up to anyone, and definitely not the type to force close proximity with someone who seems to hate you, so you leave him alone. Eventually, one potion explosion, two torn contracts, and one messed up lounge later, you and Azul become acquaintances. Friends, maybe. Uh, tentatively.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Azul thinks you’re unnecessarily high-strung. Well, where do you get the energy to always be so combative and hot-tempered? He’d rather stay away from people like you when business isn’t involved. He’s one to always keep calm and cool after all, he doesn’t think he’d get along with you at all.

Your tendency to act according to your nature and intuition and just general however you feel like acting, it’s an enigma for sure. Azul prefers a plan and at least three other backup plans, so you running headfirst into any situation makes him sigh and take another step back from you. Sevens know it might be contagious (does not call you stupid to your face, but to your back? Absolutely).

The first time he saw you almost bite Floyd’s head off for just touching your things without your permission, it was enough for him to put another strike on his record. Oh dear, you really are a handful, aren’t you? Does not realize your territorialism extends to people until Jade showed him what happened to the last student that tried messing with one of the dwarves.

Azul thinks he needs new glasses. Is that you? Looking so sweet and cuddly with your friends? Really? He gets flashbacks to when you almost scratched his eyes out that time he tried roping you into one of his contracts. Now seeing you all clingy with that celebrity, he feels…uncomfortable. It must be because you’re acting strange (he’s not jealous, thank you very much).

Love story climax:

“Yeah their food is crazy good,” you grin at Neige, helping him choose a few items on the menu, “as long as the bill is paid, at least.”

While Azul is flattered at your actions to recommend the Mostro Lounge to your closest friend who’d dropped by for a visit, there’s an annoying, itchy, gnawing feeling in one of his hearts that makes him unable to sit still. He pushes your original waiter aside and approaches your table with his little notepad, shooting you the most charming smile he’s able to give. He taps his pen against the paper to get your attention. “Y/N, I’m so glad to see you stop by again. I assume you’ll have the usual?”

“Oh, hey Azul,” he does not fail to notice the way your tone gets softer with him, “yes please. And can you add some other dishes for my friend here? Maybe two or three of your most popular ones, just so he can try them.”

Azul nods, jotting down your order. Then, he places a hand over his chest, grinning, “Of course, and just for you, it’s free of charge!”

It doesn’t take him long to confess now that he knows you like him too.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Thinks it’s hot 100%, he will die on this hill. While he still doesn’t appreciate you constantly getting into fights with other people, seeing you angry is so interesting to him. Also, you turn down the sarcasm with him, so he can fully enjoy seeing you tear someone a new one. Will not stop you unless it’s beginning to get physical.

His hair is about to turn white. Except, it’s already white. Anyway, the point is that you stress him out very much, as you being reckless means you tend to get into situations that isn’t in his Plan A. Or B. Or C. He bails you out of trouble with a calm smile and an eloquent speech, and it’s usually enough to resolve the situation. This doesn’t mean he likes you having virtually no self-control or self-reflection skills though, you’ll have to have a long talk with him (communication is key).

Azul thinks it’s cute when you let him pop your personal bubble, and he’s very happy to watch you try to pick a fight with anyone who gets too close to either you or him (keyword being try, he does his best to stop any actual fights from happening). He doesn’t mind you seeing him as part of your ‘territory’, as long as he gets something in return (and you don’t get too suffocating).

Watching you curl up into him whether in public or private gets him flustered, but especially in public. Angelfish, the big bad businessman has a reputation to uphold, you know? Still, he can’t find it in himself to push you off when you’re just so adorable like this, knowing how feisty you typically are. Do try to save it for private spaces though, he would also like to cling onto you shamelessly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

Something is off about the person Neige bumped into. Call it a gut feeling, or maybe it was the way the brown haired student was instantly alert, sweeping the white haired boy to a ‘safer’ distance before deciding on whether or not it was worth it to actually face you and Neige. You’re not sure what exactly is wrong, but your intuition is saying that this is not the kind of person your all-too-naive friend is supposed to fraternize with.

“It’s fine.”

His answer is curt, and he steers the other boy away immediately. You share a look with Neige, when you click your tongue and pull him along to find a map.

“They seemed nice.”

You hope there will not come a day when your friend is at the mercy of people with bad intentions, as it is very likely that he’d be eaten alive. “They seemed like bad news. Everyone here seems like bad news.” You reply, finally finding the botanical gardens where the cafe had been set up. You sit across from Neige at a table where some student takes your orders. Neige asks for a caramel macchiato with extra caramel and some macarons, and you opt for something a little less diabetic. “Don’t say that, Y/N. They didn’t even do anything to us, even though I was at fault for bumping into them. Isn’t that nice?”

You roll your eyes, “It’s nice that they didn’t, what, beat us up? Have higher standards, LeBlanche.”

“They seem like they’d make for good friends, that’s all,” he laughs softly.

“You think that of everyone.”

“Maybe you should give it a try.”

Exchange program:

Neige’s great plan to get you more “accustomed” to people is to throw you to NRC in the school’s newly-cooked-up exchange student program. You can’t stop him, because he really is only thinking of the best for you, but it doesn’t mean you have to like it, right? You get put in Scarabia because they have a lot of room.

Jamil is…okay. He’s a lot of things, but mostly, he’s not someone you’d ever find back at RSA. He’s a stressed out nanny most of the time, but there are a few moments when he feels more morally gray than people should probably be.

Kalim, however, you get along with splendidly. With him as your housewarden, you almost feel like you’re back with your normal circle of friends. Except Kalim is like, horrendously richer than them (and a bit more airheaded, though you think that could still be debated).

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Sorry, but most of your sarcasm is going to bounce right off Kalim’s head. He will not notice it unless you’re really blunt about it, in which case, why? It’s not easy to be mad at someone who’s so genuine all the time, and being unnecessarily mean to him is just, well, mean. It’s best to just go along with him. You can’t win against this type of person.

Twinning! No, seriously, you’re two cookies cut from the same dough, with the exact same cookie cutter. You and Kalim are exactly the same in this kind of thing, and it drives Jamil absolutely insane. Sorry to say but whatever trouble you stir up you’re going to have to face yourself; Kalim is no help, he rarely even has to face the consequences of his own actions, much less yours.

Kalim is the kind of guy to unintentionally get too close, like, all the time. No he doesn’t mean it, but it also doesn’t help when your instincts go nuts because he borrowed a pencil without asking. He does notice that you’re very protective of your stuff, but he doesn’t really notice what he does most of the time, though he tries to respect your boundaries. Does not notice it translates to people.

Oh hey! You’re hanging out with Neige, that’s so cool, can he come with? No…? You want some time with your friend because he’s only visiting for a short time? That’s cool…yeah, he can give you guys space. It’s not very often that the Al-Asim heir finds something that makes him feel disappointed or upset, but this is certainly one of them. And the worst part is, he doesn’t even know why.

Love story climax:

You’re such a sight to behold.

Kalim wonders if Neige knows how lucky he is, able to touch you and hug you like he does. You don’t even fight back, only returning the embrace with a smile. There’s a sharp pain in Kalim’s chest and he wonders what he has to do in order for you to let him that close. He’s your friend too, isn’t he? It’s…so unfair.

“Kalim?”

Jamil approaches him with a worried expression. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at the fountain for a while.”

He sees the change in Jamil’s face when he notices that it’s you sitting by the fountain. “I see.” The words make Kalim laugh. He rests his elbows on the railing and leans forward, resting his chin on his palms. Of course, Jamil would know. Jamil would understand. Jamil can see the blooming feelings in his chest that he himself took far too long to get.

He wonders if you know.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being in a relationship does not make Kalim able to detect sarcasm. If you ever try to sass him, he will take it at face value. Anyway, now that you’re this close, it’s easier to understand that with his background, Kalim has never wanted for anything, and no one ever really says no to him. He has a tendency to not hear what you’re saying sometimes, only believing in what he wants to hear. You’re going to need to find some time to discuss this with him.

The only way that this would differ from when you were just strangers/friends with Kalim, is that Jamil is now kind of obligated to help you out when you find yourself in situations you can’t (and likely don’t want to) talk your way out of. At some point he just hypnotizes you to stay out of trouble, at least for a weekend, so he can breathe. Between you and Kalim, he’s probably about to overblot again.

Are you jealous? Kalim laughs it off and hugs you, promising he only loves you and no one else! It’s unlikely he understands the nuances, but Jamil assures you it’s better that way. Your protectiveness goes a bit unnoticed, if only because he’s used to bodyguards and being protected, and it’s also very unlikely that he notices your possessiveness.

Kalim lives for displays of affection! Physical touch, gift giving, words of affirmation—his most fluent language is every love language ever. You want to hug in the middle of a crowd? Sure, he might lose you in the throng of people, after all. Want to kiss? Why not? Make sure not to miss his lips, okay? Private, public, with an audience or alone, Kalim will love you and he will do it in a way that you will never doubt his feelings for you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t—oh! You’re one of Vil’s friends, right?” Neige holds out a hand to the purple-haired boy for a handshake while you look on with a raised brow. “Um, Epel, I think, is what he called you?”

This Epel kid puts on a smile and shakes Neige’s hand, but it’s easy to tell it’s fake. He’s looking around nervously, as if to ascertain that no one sees him holding hands with Neige, and he takes it back as quickly as he’d put it out. “Right, I need to go, it was nice seeing you,” Epel laughs awkwardly and attempts to leave. He’s rooted in place once his name is called out by someone tall, blonde, and annoyingly pretty. You know from watching your friend’s works that this is the person who often played his rival; Vil Schoenheit. He does not give you the impression that he considers Neige a friend the way that Neige sees him go be.

“Epel, it’s time to go back for rehearsals,” he snaps at the younger boy, before putting on a perfectly practiced smile as he turned to Neige, “apologies for the trouble, we’ll leave you be now.”

And they walk away.

Your friend next to you is waving happily while you cross your arms.

(Clearly, that pompous-looking peacock has something against Neige.)

“It’s a shame, I wanted to introduce you to Vil, but he seems very busy.”

You scoff lightly, but at the very least, you try to mask your distaste. There’s no need for you to tell him that Vil likely hates his guts and the very dirt he steps on, not unless the other makes a move on it. “I don’t need to know anyone here,” you roll your eyes and hold onto his wrist, pulling him away, “let’s just find that cafe. Botanical gardens, right?”

“Right!”

Exchange program:

Due to a few…accidents, the faculty members of RSA have chosen you to represent the school in an exchange student program (they want you shipped off to NRC, like, bad). Pomefiore is the very lucky winner of the “which dorm should this kid be in” raffle, which means hell for you.

Epel is surprisingly funny. He’s probably one of the prettiest people you’ve ever met (and RSA is filled with pretty boys), yet his natural way of doing things is so crude, for lack of a better word. He feels good to chill with, and escape from all the prissiness that the dorm (and its housewarden) has to offer. Rook, though, you stay far away from. Sometimes when you’re alone, you feel like someone is watching you. And it’s probably him.

If there was anyone in this entire school that you absolutely loathe, it’s the world-renowned model actor blah blah blah Vil. He cannot stand your flippant attitude and you cannot stand his everything.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Vil does not know who Jesus Christ is, but I assure you that if he did, the name would be on his tongue 24/7. You don’t stand a chance in a verbal or physical fight with Vil, so you’ve learned to settle for making stupid comments behind his back. That he can still hear. He finds you very frustrating to work with, but he does love a challenge. You’ll learn to be more elegant by the time he’s done with you (you will not).

Part of the ‘does not give a fuck’ club. Whatever mess you find yourself in is your business, do you understand? He’s not one for spoon feeding, potato, so all your problems are your own to bear. Vil thinks that basing everything off intuition and instinct is straight up barbaric, but unfortunately for both you and him, you can’t be moved to Savanaclaw.

What are you, an animal? He can understand not wanting other people to touch your possessions, but must you hiss like some sort of raccoon? Fine, he’ll back off if he must. Your possessiveness of people doesn’t escape him, he just doesn’t think it’s any of his business. However, your actions now, in part, reflect Pomefiore which is under his rule and jurisdiction. Watch how you act.

It’s such an ugly feeling, and one that Vil refuses to define. And it’s Neige again, why is it always Neige? He knows you’re close but must you be that close? You’re always against people being in your ‘bubble’, so when he sees you all over that doe-eyed rival of his, it leaves him seething. Stop holding his hand, stop whispering so close to his ear, stop ignoring Vil…please…

Love story climax:

“Mira, Mira, who is the most beautiful of them all?”

Since he already knows the answer, why does he keep asking? Vil’s never pegged himself as a masochist. Then, what the hell is he doing to himself?

“Searching. The account with most comments tagged as beautiful, Neige LeBlanche.”

…Of course.

Why is it that Neige can get what he can’t have every single time? He works just as hard, doesn’t he? If not more. Neige is the protagonist, Vil is the antagonist. Neige is the hero, Vil is the villain. Neige is your best friend.

Who is Vil to you? Do you even think about him half the amount of times that he thinks of you? Is he a stranger? An acquaintance? A naggy dorm leader that you wish to avoid as much as possible?

He’s come second to your best friend one too many times.

He’s not giving up your heart, not to Neige, not to anyone.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Congratulations, you’ve been upgraded from annoying (derogatory) to annoying (affectionate)! While he doesn’t enjoy your cattiness too much, Vil does like a bit of bite. He’ll indulge you just a little, everything’s fine in moderation, after all. Just make sure you know when to tone it down, darling.

Vil is a responsible person, and he expects you to be responsible too. If you pick a fight all on your own, he has no qualms letting you face the consequences by yourself. But he’s not heartless. If it really is too much for you to handle, or if it’s not your fault, he’s more than happy to help you mediate things (or beat someone up idk).

Jealousy isn’t pretty, but he rather likes the color on you. This man is beloved by literal millions so you’ll have a hard time keeping him all to yourself. But if it’s any consolation, his love is all yours, alright? Vil wouldn’t mind a possessive lover just as long as you know your place. If you think of him as part of your territory? Well, why not?

Vil Schoenheit has a reputation to keep. He can’t just let you do whatever; he’s a public figure. So all your lovey dovey-ing will have to wait until you and him are behind closed, locked, chained doors with shut windows covered by heavy curtains, do you understand? If you do, then feel free to adore him as much as you want to. He will return your affection in kind.

“I didn’t notice you there, sorry!”

“It’s fine…gosh these normies are so clumsy, can’t even walk without tripping over their own feet…though I guess I’m not one to talk.”

Your sense of hearing has an impeccable range, at least, more than enough to hear this walking matchstick’s grumbling that he’d likely meant to keep to himself. You glare at him and push Neige back, rolling up your sleeves. This guy might be tall, but he’ll bend to your level with a nice kick at the groin. “What’d you call my friend, you blue-raspberry-flavored lightstick?”

“Y/N, stop it!”

He squealed, seemingly panicking as he backed away. “What the, I say a few words and you pick a fight irl? That’s so lame.”

“I swear to the Seven if another stupid word leaves your—”

“Threat detected.”

A cute, blue-haired (blue-flamed?) robot kid is pointing some pretty big laser guns your way, so you’re forced to take a step back, watching him slowly lower them. “Hello, please refrain from threatening my big brother, or I’ll have to annihilate you.” The kid warns you with a chipper tone of voice, but he’s glaring at you harshly.

“Y/N,” Neige whispers, “let’s just go.”

You weigh your options and decide that, even though you can probably take that six-foot gremlin, it’s very unlikely you’ll come out unscathed with the adorable death machine in the mix. You send the man one last glare while your friend pulls you away from possible homicide.

Exchange program:

The greenhouse going up in flames was definitely not your fault. Uh, totally unrelated sentence aside, you’ve been chosen to represent RSA to go on an exchange student program to NRC. Because no one from Ignihyde was at the meeting (physically), they couldn’t exactly turn you down. Most people ignored the panicking tablet, anyway.

Ortho is a sweetheart, you’ve found, when you’re not threatening to de-ball his beloved older brother. But the catch is that you can’t spend much time with him without also spending time with Idia. Which, ew.

Your housewarden is someone you barely ever saw. But you’ve taken it upon yourself to annoy him as much as humanly possible (no you’re not petty who said that), so you usually camp outside his door to spook him from ever leaving. This escalates to occasional talks through the door, which turns into him slipping you a controller, to him realizing you can’t play if you don’t see the screen, to actually letting you hang out in his room.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Make no mistake, Idia’s tongue is just as poisonous as yours, if not more. The combination usually leads to trash talk that once made Ortho splash the two of you with cold water. He thinks you’re funny, but you’re both petty so most verbal fights turn to you two swatting at each other like children.

Bro, don’t you have a strategy for every level? You can’t win if you just wing it all the time, y’know? Idia’s the type of gamer who spends several hours at a game’s wiki page just to find the best route to the finish line, so you being as you are kinda gives him a headache. And look, he’s not helping you out, okay? None of his business.

What…you chill in his room but don’t let him have some of your honey butter potato chips? That’s lame af, but like whatever. He notices the people thing when he sees you through one of the cameras (that he did not plant nuh uh) in school, about to commit murder because someone called Ortho things neither you nor Idia appreciate. Hey, he’s rooting for you.

It took him like three weeks just to be able to sit two meters away from you without you bitching about it, so Idia is, understandably, a bit peeved when he sees you practically when he finds you hugging Ortho. He shouldn’t be annoyed, it’s Ortho, for sevens’ sake! But it’s not like he can just stop feeling frustrated. He can’t stop feeling disappointed. He can’t stop feeling…wait, what is he feeling? Jealousy? No! Absolutely not!

Love story climax:

He has to look away when you turn your head, lest he get caught in the act of totally-not-staring. He tries to focus on the game and on the way his character is moving on the screen.

But why is it that he feels like it’s a waste of time?

He loves gaming! The online world is his passion, his everything. But when you’re sitting right beside him, he thinks he’d prefer to admire you, adore you, instead of beating his high score at Kingdom Odyssey: Rise of Dragonheart. He takes another peek at your pretty face, glowing by the light of the screen. Your features morph into one of excitement, and he feels his heart lightening too when he catches your bright smile.

“I won! You lost, suck it!”

He doesn’t even mind you gloating, because your smug smirk is just…

Ew. Gross. Blegh.

It’s like he got turned into a shoujo manga character right there. Idia turns back to the screen. “Dumb luck, noob. Next round it’s gg for you.”

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

He doesn’t fight with you as often…but he still fights with you. Nothing serious of course, but trolling each other has become as much of a love language as quality time is. Idia really does enjoy trash talking with you the most, if only because you turn it into a competition. When you lose, he makes you do something silly. Like uh, marrying his character in Sunfall Brookes…

Worry not! Idia, being the super awesome and totally cool genius he is, has whipped something up so that Ortho is behind you at every turn. He can’t support your stupidity irl most of the time, but having his little brother (who is fully equipped with deadly laser guns) back you up is probably good enough. So it’s fine, you’re fine, worse comes to worst Ortho’ll pick you up and fly you right back to your loving boyfriend (who may or may not be waiting to hear about your stupid actions).

While you do share your potato chips now, it seems to have become a bit more troublesome. Like, what do you mean does he love Moonkiss Eclipse the Magical Sparkle Girl more than you? Of course he loves you more (pssssst Ortho can you hide the body pillow before my s/o pops me into a body bag). Your main enemy will be the thousands of fictional characters that Idia loves, so good luck!

Idia’s not like, super great at public displays of affection. He’s not great in public, in general. Your clinginess and kisses and whatnot will have to wait until you’re back at either his or your room, ‘kay? It’s worth it though, you get to see a shy, blushy Idia with flaming pink hair.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I AM FINE, HUMAN! YOU CANNOT INJURE ME WITH YOUR WEAK HUMAN BODY!”

Neige’s sheepish apology is met with a loud, annoying, obnoxious response. It makes you want to deck the green haired man in the face just for damaging your eardrums. “Hey, cut it out, will you? You’re loud,” you click your tongue, glaring at him, “and very annoying.”

“HOW DARE YOU CALL ME ANNOYING, HUMAN?! I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, ONE OF MALLEUS-SAMA’S MOST LOYAL RETAINERS, AM A FIGURE OF—”

You figure you’re unlikely to get anything useful out of this student whose head seems very deep inside his own ass. Just as you’re planning your escape route (or how to get away with murder), a voice that successfully stops the blabber arrives.

“Sebek?” a beautiful horned fae intercedes from the sidelines, “I thought you were with Silver and Lilia.”

“MY LIEGE!”

This is probably your cue to leave.

With your hand wrapped around Neige’s wrist, you whisk him far far away from this school’s legion of freaks. As good as the eye candy (the horned fae) was, another word from the green weirdo is bound to have you arrested after socking him in the gut.

“Y/N? Where are we going?” Neige asks hesitantly.

“To the cafe,” you answer curtly, “then after that we’re going right back for your SDC practice, okay? I cannot stand one more second with all these NRC students around.”

Exchange program:

RSA held a very, very random name drawing for the exchange student program, and surprise, it’s you! And apparently, during a housewarden meeting, Diasomnia offered to be your dorm during your stay (no one needs to know Diasomnia’s housewarden wasn’t there).

You start sort-of acquaintances with Silver, but he’s actually an amazing antithesis to you. Since, you know, you’re always blazing in your fiery temper and he’s just…asleep. Maybe not antithesis. Anyway he’s a good friend.

Being in the same dorm as Sebek does not make you tolerate him more. In fact, you butt heads so much that Lilia’s assigned someone in Diasomnia to always be watching the two of you when in the same room. Lilia is cool, he’s cute, he’s super fun. You get along nicely with him once you’ve gotten used to being jumpscared.

Malleus, to be honest, you barely ever saw. He’s a bit stuck in his own world, and it’s not as if you cross paths often in your schedule. He’s more a bystander in your world before something (a fight with one of his retainers, you can guess which one) happens, and you finally manage to call him a ‘friend’.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

My, you’ve got quite some courage, saying those things in front of the Prince of Briar Valley. Malleus doesn’t mind though, in fact, he welcomes it. He sees it as a sign that you’re friends. After all, none too many would do as you do and sass him, saying such crude and bold words. As long as you don’t cross a line, the fae prince will smile with a ready retort in light fun.

He thinks your antics are amusing, to say the least. But you know that thing where his superiority complex kind of comes out every once in a while? Yeah, he sees you as entertaining. Kinda condescending. The good thing about this is that he doesn’t get mad at the situations you find yourself in, plus it only takes a snap of his fingers to clean up your mess. The bad thing is that you feel like half a court jester.

Malleus understands your natural instinct to claim some place and things as territory. He’s a dragon fae, after all, and those myths and legends of their greed do hold some degree of merit. This extends to people? How interesting. Watches on with amusement as you tackle a student to the ground for calling Lilia ‘weird’.

In all his years of living, this is the first time that anything has made him feel this way. There’s a bitter taste lingering on the back of his tongue, and neon green sparks curl and flicker around his fingers. It’s out of his control, he can’t help it; you’re so unbelievably unlike yourself right now it’s driving him insane. Why would you cuddle with Silver under a tree like this? Do you feel something for his knight? Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Love story climax:

“Beloved.”

The word is strange, weighing heavily on his lips. And yet, as he watches your sleeping figure, mind almost subconsciously erasing Silver from the picture, he finds it to be a word befitting of you. Lovely. “It will be dark soon,” Malleus whispers, and the prince is brought to his knees next to you if only so that you may hear his yearning, “it is best to return indoors and sleep there.”

Your eyes flutter open; you are a vision he cannot ever hope to erase from his mind.

“Sorry, I was,” you let out a soft yawn, stretching your limbs, “I got really tired from PE. Oh, I should wake up Silver.”

Malleus can’t help the lightning that zooms across his fingertips. You didn’t seem to notice the term he’d used for you, still addled from sleep. You’re focused on gently shaking his retainer awake.

It matters not, for you will be his soon enough.

(How could you ever hope to be more territorial than a dragon, dearest?)

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being assertive and straightforward with your words is a great trait of rulers, beloved (yeah, in a relationship means he’s planning for marriage babe, keep up). Sass and sarcasm will have to be taken down a notch though, although he loves you, the faes in Briar Valley are old and not very accommodating of your hobby of wordplay. He does enjoy it, however, so feel free to speak as you wish when the two of you are alone.

In this kind of situation, he babies you a lot more. It’s not really condescension though, he believes that you can handle yourself especially since he now sees you as an equal. But Malleus is highly, if not overly, indulgent of the one he loves. Sees no need to change it unless something big happens. Is more liable to clean up after your messes, this time out of love.

Malleus thinks you’re so adorable when you’re jealous, with the way you get so fussy and protective over him. It’s not as if you really have a reason for jealousy, the prince is less ‘lusted after by many suitors’ and more feared. At least, that’s what he believes. So you only have Lilia and Silver to comfort you after a long day of fighting with his many many admirers.

Have a sense of decorum, dear, a public place is not suitable for displays of affection. Or so he says, but really, who is Malleus to stop you if you wish to be loving and sweet? He’ll melt faster than you can even say his name. He will have to hold back on reciprocating temporarily, but rest assured he has a mental tally and will be repaying you threefold once you’re in his private quarters.

[shaesinflames]

🌥️ Rainbow Factory Infection AU🌥️

Hello everypony!! Ive been loving the infection stuff and wanted to jump onto the trend myself with an AU that came to me very suddenly. I'm gonna try and get all my thoughts out here:

☁️ Scootaloo fails her flying assessment by getting disqualified for checking on her injured friend who had crashed during their turn. The two of them get taken to the Rainbow Factory as a punishment for their failure, and quickly realize the deadly situation they're in.

🌈 There are few dozen pegasi there already. All of their wings have been torn off of them, their cutiemarks are branded over, and chains are fastened around either their legs or neck. They all seem so... dull. As if the color has been stolen from them.

☁️ Rainbow Dash enters to examine the new sacrifices, and is mortified when she sees Scootaloo. She had trained her every day to prevent this from happening; she never wanted the pony she thought of as a little sister to end up here. Dash had to quickly decide if she was more loyal to her career, or to her friends.

🌈 She chooses Scootaloo. This does not go over well. Whether you enter the Rainbow Factory as a prisoner or an employee, you were not allowed to leave until you died. Rainbow Dash grabs Scootaloo and attempts to flee with her.

☁️ A chase ensues. She realizes that even if they do escape, they wouldn't be free. They would be hunted for as long as the factory existed. The answer suddenly seems obvious. Dash veers away from the exit and heads deeper into the building, straight for the core.

🌈 Because of her high status in the company (and a lot of kicking), Rainbow Dash gets into the restricted access room and corrupts the core, sparking a reactor meltdown. Her and Scootaloo manage to escape seconds before the core collapses, and the Rainbow Factory is lost to the rainbows it created.

☁️ Not long after, ponies begin to emerge from the ruins. Well, they seem to still be ponies. Mostly ponies. The Inital Victims. The pegasi who had been deemed useless and dispensable in one way or another, and had been put through torture for weeks or months in order to drain them of their very magic and soul.

🌈 The Victims seem to have a symbiotic relationship with the Rainbow Infection in their body. They live just out of reach of death; gaunt and hollow, yet somehow surviving. Blind, weak, and terrified, they seem to believe they're still trapped in the factory, and will viciously maul any living being they sense with a newfound strength. So far, they don't seem to be curable, or killable.

☁️ The Infected pegasi have a much more unpleasant experience. Every waking moment is nothing but agony as the infection consumes their magic and feast on their vessel, reducing them to nothing more than another fluffy white cloud looming in the sky.

🌈 The Infected aren't hostile, and seem to still be lucid up until their death. However, they are incredibly contagious, and the final stage of the infection seems to be designed specifically to further the disease.

☁️ Unicorns and Earth ponies are completely immune to the Rainbow Infection. Alicorns are not. The princess's have been barricaded in Celestia's castle to protect them all.

🌈 Without any pegasi to moderate the weather, it has become increasingly unpredictable and harsh, making typical farm work almost impossible. The Survivors are getting low on rations, and they're getting desperate and hungry.

I think thats about it. Idk at the time of writing this its 3am lol.

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Beautiful Stranger

Summary: Jake was talked into picking up the coffee order for the group, but little did he know he would be leaving with more than that.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Wow friends…it has been a hot minute since I have posted. Life got crazy and my motivation to write had lessened. But I am back and slowly going through my inbox requests! Thank you all for the constant love and support. Excited to put out more writing for you!

Jake had no idea how he was the one picking up coffee for the group, but here he was standing in line at an overly crowded coffee shop, twenty minutes out of the way of base.

It was obvious that he didn’t fit in with this crowd. Hipster was the word that came to mind seeing the strange outfits and unruly haircuts. Someone wearing a crisp uniform and hair with every strand in perfect place screamed odd man out. He was uncomfortable to say the least and swore up and down he would never be doing this again.

Bradley told him they ordered ahead so he wouldn’t have to worry about going through the order of nearly ten coffees, but scanning the pick-up counter told him he would have to wait some.

He found a small corner out of the way of traffic and took in his surroundings. One of the benefits of a place like this meant people watching would entertain him until the order was ready.

There was a couple splitting a bagel not too far from him. It looked like something out of a cheesy movie, with the whispering and lovey smiles. He had to bite his tongue to keep from snorting out loud.

The next group he saw looked to be college students strung out on entirely way too much caffeine with the way they were frantically typing. He didn’t miss those days of cramming for exams and writing pointless papers at the last minute. But he did think he at least looked a bit more put together when he was their age. Or that’s what he told himself.

Jakes eyes nearly passed over the young woman in the opposite corner from him, quietly writing in a notebook. She was locked into whatever she was working on, despite all the noise around her. Between the music playing throughout the store, expresso machines going off, and countless conversations being had, Jake had no idea how the woman could get any work done. But here she was, chewing on the end of her pen lost in thought, not giving anything around her an ounce of attention.

He found himself starting to really look at her. She was dressed casually but somehow managed to make it look almost professional. Her hair was pulled back into one of those giant clips that he never understood how it stayed in place all day. The makeup was minimal, but she didn’t need it in his opinion.

“Hangman?” Jake nearly jumped when he heard his order called out, breaking him away from the thoughts of the random stranger across the way. He politely nodded thanks to the barista and took the two drink carriers from her. But before he walked out, he threw a quick glance over his shoulder nearly tripping over himself when he saw the woman looking up at him. He recovered as quickly as possible, making it through the door without dropping anything.

It was on the way to base that the thoughts starting spiraling out of control. Was it a coincidence that she looked up as he was leaving? Was it his call sign that pulled her attention? And if so, why? Jake shook his head, stopping himself from continuing down the rabbit hole. He had zero interaction with this woman and yet his mind wouldn’t get off her. It was early in the morning, and he wasn’t fully awake to be making rational decisions. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Bradley and Natasha met him outside the locker room, thanking him for grabbing the coffee. He grumbled a response and went to his locker to put his things up. Bradley didn’t give much thought to the minimal interaction with the pilot, but Natasha did. “Everything go okay with the order?”

Jake nodded his head and shut his locker. “Just don’t see why you need something that expensive and out of the way when we have a perfectly good coffee machine here.” Natasha shook her head with a smirk, realizing just how out of his element he must have been.

“It’s good coffee. Can’t help that I have expensive taste.” Jake huffed out a breath, “Lord help your future husband.”

It was a week later when he got a text from Natasha begging him to grab her a coffee from the same damn place. He went to reply no, when another text popped up saying she was running late and would buy lunch to make up for it. Rolling his eyes, he replied back saying he was feeling something expensive for lunch to match his taste. An emoji with a lovely hand gesture was sent back with the word “fine”, making him chuckle. At least it was one coffee this time.

Jake took a deep breath as he walked into the coffee shop, mentally preparing himself for what seemed like unorganized chaos. The place was packed with nearly ten people in line waiting to order. He looked down at his watch and saw that he was here around the same time as last week, but for some reason today was busier than before.

The counter was filled with drink orders, taking him a minute to read through all the names. His friends’ wasn’t there yet and he turned to find refuge in his corner while he waited. He looked around at the people and while they weren’t the same as before, the types of groups remained the same.

“For someone who looked like he’d rather gouge his eyes out than be here last week, you came back.” A soft voice pulled his attention down to a woman sitting at a table close to him, revealing the beautiful stranger he had just managed to stop thinking about.

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but for some reason words wouldn’t form. He could slap himself for looking like an idiot in front of her. He had never once been at a loss for words with a woman, but something about her made himself conscious of everything he did.

“I didn’t mean to call you out like that. I just didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” She was smiling up at him, making the tops of his ears burn.

“A friend was running late and asked if I could pick up her order.” It was a short statement, but the smile on the woman’s face dimmed a bit. “Must be some girl for you to put yourself through this first thing in the morning.”

Jake quickly shook his head trying to back track, “She’s my teammate and promised me lunch if I did this. Nothing more.” The woman hummed and looked back down at her notebook.

“Well, if you make this a regular thing, I am good friends with the staff and might be able to get your order out a bit quicker. Wouldn’t want you to go into crisis mode over a coffee shop.” She was biting back a smile as she poked fun at his clear discomfort of the place, but Jake couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Darlin’, you have no idea how much that would mean to me.” Why he just committed to this being a regular thing, he had no idea. But he did know he wanted to see the beautiful stranger again.

“Hangman, right?” His eyebrows shot up at the remembrance of his call sign. “Hangman is my call sign. You can call me Jake.” Her eyes sparkled in what he thought was amusement.

“Well Jake, my name is Y/N, and I would be happy to help you out. I am here most days working on things. Why don’t you give me your number so you can text me when you plan on stopping by. That way I can let my friends know to look out for your order.” This girl was nothing but confident. Jake didn’t think he had ever had a woman ask for his number before and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Hangman?” His name was called out like last time, but instead of feeling relieved to get out of the overcrowded shop, he wanted to stay as long as possible. “Better get going, pilot. Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” She gave him a wink, something that he normally did with women, and knew he was already in trouble.

He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing the coffee and headed out to work. He hadn’t made it out of the parking lot before his phone vibrated with a text. “Make sure it’s not another week before you come back in. I might forget all about you.” Jake smiled and drove to base, texting her back when he pulled in.

“Wouldn’t want to keep a beautiful woman waiting.” The smile never once left his face as he walked in. Natasha thanked him over and over again for the coffee but stopped when he saw the difference in his demeanor this time. “What’s gotten into you?” He shrugged his shoulders, “You were right. The coffee there is worth the drive.”

She gave him a skeptical look but didn’t push him any further. She would rather have a happy Jake than one who was ready to pick you apart at a moment’s notice.

And that’s how it was for the next month. Jake volunteered to get the coffee, finding any excuse to talk to his beautiful stranger. But the visits became longer, and the texting became more regular to the point where every free moment he had was spent getting to know her. It wasn’t long before Jake asked Y/N on a date, and he quickly found that this girl was the one for him.

Everyone knew something was up with their teammate. He had become less selfish and more of a team player. A feat no one thought was possible but didn’t want to push their luck. It wasn’t until Natasha said she would get her own coffee that the truth came out.

“Jake, you have been getting my order for me for nearly a month now. I can get it this once and give you a break from the drive. Just let me know your order.” Jake shook his head at her and said he had no issues getting it.

Natasha kept pushing until Jake blurted out, “I see someone every time I go there. It is one of the few times the two of us get to spend time with each other because of our schedules.” She stopped and thought about what he had said. Who there would he see every single time?

And then it clicked.

“Oh god. Tell me you aren’t seeing Y/N.” Jake tilted his head in confusion. “How the hell do you know her?”

Natasha looked at him in shock. “Because she owns the coffee shop. And her dad is our boss.”

Jake froze as he took in her words. Owning the coffee shop made sense. She was there all the time and said she knew the staff well, because it was her staff. That didn’t bother him. What did was not knowing who her dad was.

“I didn’t know Maverick had a daughter.” Natasha shook her head.

“Not Maverick you idiot. Admiral Simpson.”

And that was when certain things clicked into place. She looked up at him the first day because she knew the call sign. Her dad had to of talked about them a time or two, especially with this new assignment. The amusement she had when he told her his name was for the same reason. She knew who he was, but he didn’t have the slightest clue who he had been talking to. This girl was okay with the last-minute changes in plans or the late replies due to his schedule because she had grown up with it. The group insisted on getting coffee there because they were supporting someone in the TopGun family.

He was head over heels for the Admirals daughter and was royally screwed when he found out.

A/N: Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? I always love hearing back from you all! Thank you so much for reading!

Tag list: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @bobfloydsgf @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticassidy

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Chiori and Yae with a reader that tries to slack off all the time

characters: Chiori / Yae Miko x gn!reader (separate)

a/n: Chiori is such an asshole and I absolutely adore her. She’s like if they gave Stannis Baratheon hair and a second sword.

(I wrote this like... 2 months ago and finally finished it. A total henry move to write 90% of smth and then let it rot in my WIP folder for months, if you ask me.)

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Chiori

While the two of you matched when it came to radiating calm energy, the way they came out in quite contrasting ways. Where the Seamstress worked hard at following her passions, you were easygoing, where she was direct and brutally honest, you were charming and always said what the other party wanted to hear. Where she was Chiori, you were you.

So when you once again found yourself in her Boutique, chatting away with customers and somehow managing to make them spend more than they had planned, only to up and vanish from one moment to the next, Chiori couldn’t help but feel like she had an inkling of an idea to as were she would find you.

“What are you doing here?”, Chiori’s voice suddenly rang out, waking you from your slumber as you slowly looked up at her, your eyes still half closed and yet still managing to make out the vexed look on her face.

“I was taking a small break. Do you need me for something, Chiori?” you asked in a completely innocent tone, an unwavering smile plastered on your face as she stared you down before signaling to the once locked door.

“And where did you get the keys for the room?”

“They were in the door, so I let myself in. Oh- Was I not supposed to go here?” You realized with widened eyes, glancing between her and the door before shooting her an apologetic smile.

“Yeah no, don’t do that again. The next time you want to take a nap, do it at home”, came her response almost immediately.

Putting the whole “sneaking off and going into a locked room to take a nap away from people” situation aside, what annoyed Chiori even more was how impossible to read you were. If she was sure you were lying to her, she’d have thrown you out long ago. Were you really clueless enough to let yourself into a room or were you simply playing dumb? 

“Ugh. If you want to stand around and do nothing, come with me. I’m in need of a model right now.”

Yae Miko

While you were certainly far from being as lethargic as a certain ninja-girl loitering around the shrine every so often, you had your moments of supreme languidness. And while there were times she felt the urge to help you out by giving you a bit of motivation to get your day started, more often than not, Yae found herself amused by the lengths you took to go unnoticed by your superiors.

“Oh my, you look exhausted. You must have been working hard to get all of this paperwork finished. I do hope I’m not being a nuisance right now”, Yae observed as she entered the room, her voice both soft in nature while masking her mischievous intentions, letting herself into your office only to see you half-slumped over your desk with finished paperwork surrounding you.

That being said, Yae had no doubt it didn’t take you as long as your dramatic rendition of an exhausted warrior would suggest, considering the clever ways you found to make your work easier. So often had you inadvertently impressed her with your way of working that she wouldn’t put it past you to reinvent the wheel if it could shave off a few seconds from your work.

“No, I just now finished my work”, you were quick to soothe her worries, and yet by the way you rubbed your eyes awake, the Kitsune couldn’t help but doubt your words.

As expected, you had learned from your mistakes. The last time you were caught finishing early, you got a few sentences of praise and an extra load of work, the way your self-satisfied smile turned into one barely holding on as you tried to mask whatever emotions washed over you on the inside, being exactly the kind of subtle reactions she loved to watch people go through.

“You should know that you are truly a commendable employee. So, to reward you for your hard work, I should give you a promotion”, Yae spoke before shooting you a small smile as if to praise you, and yet by the time her words registered in your brain, your mouth was left hanging wide open.

“Thank you, but that’s really not necessary. I can think of a dozen people more suited than me-”

“You’re selling yourself short. I’m confident you’re more than qualified for the position”, Yae quickly cut you off, her expression unchanging as she slowly turned around. “Or… Is it that you do not want more work?” She added as her smile grew wider, barely hiding her enjoyment anymore.

“No… thank you”, you responded with a meek sigh, realizing the futility of fighting it.

Once you’d take a closer look at your new privileges and responsibilities, you’d surely realize that she made sure most of your new workload wouldn’t take nearly as long as your current one if handled in an intelligent manner, and yet, when she saw your current reaction, a part of her found herself hoping you wouldn’t realize anytime soon.

By the time Yae reached the door however, she found herself halting in her tracks, quietly humming to herself as she seemed to think about something before finally turning to face you once again.

“I do suppose you did work well today. Take the rest of the day off.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

I love your blog so much!! You're without a doubt my favorite writer on this app, you write yanderes so so well and you just manage to capture so amazingly the personality of EVERY character you write, especially Byakuya, i love him so much, and you just write him so well, i've been reading and rereading your works nonstop!

Could i please request yandere Byakuya with a Reader who's very kind and gentle and they like to follow him around (not in an annoying way, but in an attempt to try to befriend him and make sure he is okay during the killing game, since he is kinda excluded for being an ass). Better yet, how would he react to Reader actually leaving him alone after he went too far, or was too mean to them

Love everything you post so much, feel free to deny, remember to eat and drink water!

Thank you so so much! I'm happy i could make you happy! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Sweet ‘n Sour | Yandere Byakuya Togami

It’s honestly an honor

That you’re transmigrated into an anime/game

Too bad it’s the killing game of Danganronpa

And of course, with you thrown in the middle things are really unpredictable

So you’ll comfort yourself in being as kind to these characters as you possibly can

Especially Byakuya

A fan favorite and an intriguing ally throughout the game

Of course, you just gravitate toward him

Even though he sneers and insults you

Sometimes threatens

But you don’t mind…

…

Even though….

Those comments are beginning to hurt 

It’s one thing to love a meaner character through the screen but in person, it’s pretty hard

despite your inclination to maintain your usual smile and gentle actions

After a while, you just stop trying 

Too bad some may consider that your biggest mistake:

“Honestly I was hoping you’d turn up as one of the corpses during this farce; it probably would have made it even more interesting.”

That was it.

That was the last straw for you. Toko could have all his time and attention for all you care. The sheer fact you’ve put up with this for so long disgusts you. To hear your own life be spat on by the guy you’d been trying to extend a helping hand to–it was despicable. (Of him or of you, you couldn’t decide.)

“Ah, I see. Have a good night then.”

That was the last time you went out of your way to speak to him; immediately changing your schedule to accompany someone else. Since you’d been away with Byakuya you almost forgot how kind the rest of the group was. 

“(Y/n) I’m so happy you’re willing to hang out now! Let’s make donuts together!”

“After that I hope you’ll indulge me and Naegi in a puzzle of sorts.”

“I-if it’s alright with you..”

It was refreshing. 

To be told you were actually wanted around was somehow so fulfilling.

What terrible company you’ve been keeping.

“I’d love to!” Within a matter of days you are feeling the warmth of friendly interactions; whereas the man you’re avoiding is having a….less than stellar reaction.

Crash! 

Toko was excited that her Byakuya-sama had finally chased you. A rival weak enough to be effected by words wasn’t much of a rival at all! But upon your absence in only a few hours into his daily routine Byakuya had made an intense realization. 

That he desperately desired your attention on him.

He didn’t have to actually see you skirting your routine with him to know he hated the thought of you spending any amount of time with his classmates rivals. It literally made his skin itch and his throat close up with every minute away from you. Naturally he doesn’t care that even Toko is unnerved by the tantrum he throws. Books are strewn about, the shelves dangerously leaning against one another. All of it just an emphasis of the palpable malice emanating off of Byakuya. In the middle of the ruins he just stands still. 

Alarmingly still.

Like a predator looking out. 

Are they hunting? Scoping? Contemplating the ways to torture their enemies?

No one really knows.

Even when he pulls at his hair and belts out in an uncouth laughing fit. In an instant he stops demanding Monokuma show himself this instant. He needed to find you. Now. He’ll make it a point to inform the headmaster of his own teaching. 

Because apparently you–being the kind and gentle soul you are should be able to withstand all kinds of people. Especially him. Always him. So he’ll offer his own guidance by keeping you within arms reach at all times. 

He expects you to persist against anything he can throw at you.

How else are you going to rule the world as a Togami?

[angellayercake]

How about a spicy prompt?? Terzo realizing the reader really likes his hands (tends to stare at them a little too long as he does random tasks, things like that). Take this in whatever direction you see fit. Thanks!

Oh you did it anon! You finally got me to write something about THE GLOVES!!! They make me crazy insane and I probably think about them far more than what is normal but there we go 🙃

Terzo x GN Reader | NSFW | 1200 words

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

You twitch every time a sharp nail comes in contact with the desk. It’s not even the noise that is driving you to distraction. It is those damn gloves. And, well the hands that are wearing them. And by default the infuriating man to whom they belong. 

Why it was decided he needed to wear his full vestments for this particular meeting you do not know but in your mind at least you violently curse the person who insisted on it. It would be a lie to say that you didn't find him distracting on the best of days being so well acquainted with the capabilities of his dexterous fingers but there really is something about those particular gloves that melts your brain among other less appropriate parts of your anatomy. 

Usually it is manageable. Rarely does he wear them and even then you are only cursed with a glimpse from a distance, barely catching the sharp glint of nails and certainly not able to hear the quiet creak of the leather every time he gestures. Which damn his dramatic Italian ass is everytime he speaks.

 At Mass you fight to keep your thoughts on his words as much as you can. Rituals are so full of spectacle and performance it's easy to break your fixation. And official events are usually so stressful you don't have a thought to spare.

But today you are not so lucky. To call this meeting tedious would be under selling the situation greatly. You can't even remember what is about now, which is especially bad for you considering you are supposed to be note-taking. The visiting Cardinals had insisted on meeting with all the Higher Clergy to tell them something they deemed very important but that was proving very dull for almost everyone else. 

Sister Imperator has the appearance of listening attentively but you can see the glaze over her eyes, probably thinking of all the other actually important things she could be doing with this time. To her right Cardinal Copia sits in a similar position to you, notebook and pen in hand, yet every minute or so his grip loosens as his eyelids droop and it's only the dropping of his chin or the pen about to fall from his hand that jolts him back to wakefulness. To her left, Papa Nihil has given up all pretence of paying attention, slouching back in his chair and snoring quietly. 

And then there was Papa. Your Papa. Initially he had tried to engage the visitors with his usual charm but even he had not proved a match for their dreary topics of conversation. So he had taken to torturing you instead. Ever the attentive man he had cottoned on quickly to the way your gaze was drawn to his hands with every flick of his wrist and now seemed to be doing his damnedest to keep them centre of your attention. Which was hardly a challenge. 

Every time he flexes his fingers you watch the leather strain to accommodate the movement of his impatient tapping. They are so tight they fit like, well, a glove, but more indecent somehow. The skin tight leather and the glinting pointed tips elongating his fingers perversely until all you can think about is the way they would feel against your skin. The cool sharp scratch followed by the soothing soft warmth. He likes to tease, to push you to your limits and then further still until all you can think about is him so you can easily imagine how he would start. Seemingly innocuous touches as he slowly peeled away your clothes only to reveal how much the barest touches of his gloved fingers had ruined you.

Suddenly he flattens his hands on his desk in irritation, interrupting the drone of a Cardinal with an angry interjection but after a moment's shock you drown out their bickering taking the opportunity to admire the gloves openly displayed as they are. Careful lines of stitches fan from his wrist, the deliberate placement helping achieve the perfectly tight fit. You had watched him pull them on once, easing them over his hands and struggling to slide down the zip which follows the curve of his thumb and keeps them in place. Clearly still incensed by whatever they are discussing he gestures towards one of them palms up so you can follow the seam across his palm allowing for the movement of his thumbs. 

As precisely as it is sewn you can only imagine how it might catch your pebbled nipple if he were to palm at the curve of your chest as he explored you. Your skin could be left a criss cross of scratch marks as his large hands covered the planes of your body varying the pressure as a threat of something more, the possibility of him breaking your skin ever present. Perhaps they aren’t so sharp as that but a part of you wishes they were as you allow yourself to think about them sliding between your legs.

His finger tips would trace you meticulously, one wrong move and he could damage you severely, but isn’t that a large part of the reason you find yourself so drawn to them. The anticipation tinged with dread of the sharp sting of his claws only building the warm pleasure you feel. And for him, hopefully the power you would allow him to hold over you would only make him want you more, making the necessity of his slow, precise movements even more frustrating for the two of you. 

You realise somewhat detachedly that your pleasure would likely ruin his beautiful gloves. They are such an important part of his image, his costume that marks him as the dark and powerful leader but even then you think you would have no regrets. Not when you would feel the metallic nails grow warm against you or the leather slipping smooth with barely there friction due to your arousal. Perhaps they would survive, stained with the evidence of their effect on you, the scent of you lingering on his fingertips as a reminder of your sweet lustful sin.      

Sister Imperator stands, and everyone else follows her lead, signalling the end of this meeting and breaking your reverie. You risk a glance at Papa, daring to catch his eyes and he knows, he always knows when your thoughts have strayed to the sinful. It is impossible to look away from his smug expression even as his gaze drops down your body knowingly. Slowly, deliberately returning his eyes to yours he beckons you towards him. One long finger curling deliberately pulling you towards him, as inevitable as gravity. Until Cardinal Copia interrupts your line of sight and prevents you from stepping into his orbit. You are needed, urgently for some other pointless duty, the realisation that your fantasy is no longer about to come to fruition dousing your lust as if cold water was cascading down your body.    

Papa’s displeasure flits over his face before his expression shutters and he is back to business even as you are steered out of the room by the Cardinal. You spare him one last look and you can only hope the flash in his eyes and the quirk of his lips are a promise that if not now you will be his again as soon as he can get his hands on you. 

[ken-dom]

Alone Together

Sierra Six x gn!reader

2.4k words

∘₊✧ Summary: you take Six to the carnival for your first date, hoping he’ll relax a little

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: this was written for @heresthestorymorningglory’s birthday! Thanks for being my best goose, I hope you have an excellent day when it eventually rolls around 💖 (we were too excited to wait to post our birthday fics). It was SO hard writing Six without sending it to her to check it was Sixy enough!! If you haven’t read her Six, thoroughly recommend.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: fluff, first date, kissing, mild peril?!, mention of clowns

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Six’s arm is secure around your shoulders, almost swallowing you up in his embrace as he keeps you close.

And keeps you safe, of course. Even during his rare downtime, Six was on high alert. You’d never seen someone play a ring toss challenge with such laser focussed eyes and tensed shoulders before, but he got every single one, winning you a red love heart shaped balloon that bobbed along above you as you strolled through the fairground.

It was cute of him to choose the balloon over an annoyingly large stuffed toy, but you know it was partly (mostly) so that if he lost sight of you, you’d be easier to locate in the crowd should anything go wrong. But, really, what did it matter? You’d never felt safer than when you were with him, and your first date is shaping up to be just about perfect; except that you haven’t stopped to eat yet.

The aromas of deep fried doughnuts and roasting onions make your mouth water as you move through the fair, and you fully intend to drag him off for a hot dog or fries when you see a ring the bell game and stop in your tracks, considering it.

Six looks down, seeing your eyes light up, and smiles. But he feels you sigh as you glance at the arm around your shoulders and look back in the direction of the food stalls, forgetting it.

‘Hey, let’s have a go?’ he encourages, lightly squeezing his arm around you.

You huff, amused. ‘Are you kidding?’

‘No.’

‘Nah, it’s huge. And you’re huge!’ You squeeze his bicep. ‘Far too easy, and where’s the fun in that for either of us?’

Six takes a deep, even breath, slowly sliding his arm from around your shoulders as he thinks on it. ‘How about we make it interesting?’

You raise an eyebrow in his direction and he remains apparently unfazed, with both his hands free he pops a Skittle or two into his mouth, chewing leisurely. There’s no urgency in him at all and you realise he’s started to relax. Just a little.

‘If you ring the bell before I do, you choose what we do for the rest of the night.’

‘I fully planned to do that anyway,’ you smirk playfully.

‘Even the haunted house,’ he offers with a tilt of his head, as though it’s a very attractive deal.

‘Oh? Scared?’ 

‘Terrified,’ he quips, tossing another Skittle onto his tongue and sucking for a second before giving in and crunching the sugary shell.

‘Whatever, you just want to show off,’ you wink.

Six grunts, shoving the candy bag back into his pocket, and confidently strides over to swap a five dollar bill for the mallet, assuming the position.

He swings the mallet down to the base with such force that you’re sure will send the little red puck right up to the top of the ten foot pole and send a triumphant ring through the fairground.

But, somehow, he misses. Spectacularly. 

The second time, the mallet conveniently – and comically – slips out of his hand before he swings it, and falls to the ground behind him.

He tilts his head in defeat, a wry smile pulling at his lips.

You glare back, annoyed that he’s doing this to let you win. There’s no way Six, with all his precision and skill can’t manage to wield a simple carnival mallet.

The third time he brings the mallet down, the puck shoots up to just an inch below the bell and drops back to the bottom again without a win. There’s that precision.

With sparkling eyes, he catches your gaze and mutters, ‘Too distracted, I guess. Your turn.’

You narrowed your eyes at him as he leant against the side of the nearest trailer, folding his arms over his chest and trying to appear casual.

You grip the mallet, squeezing your fingers around the handle to brace yourself, and bring it down hard. The little puck shoots up, and you don’t reach the bell, but you’re so close you could kick yourself.

With much less effort this time, you do it, and the bell rings loud and proud through the chatter and music, and you were offered a range of ridiculously large stuffed animals to choose from and take away with you.

Six stayed propped against the trailer, smirking again but blatantly this time, as you picked out a huge panther plushie.

‘That one. Reminds me of him,’ you smile, throwing it immediately over to Six. 

He catches it easily. It looks so much smaller in his hands and you laugh at the frown he reveals as he lowers it.

‘That thing’s yours now. You’ll need to name him.’

‘No thank you,’ Six retorted, holding it back out toward you.

‘I rang the bell, I make the decisions, remember?’

Six’s jaw clenched as he stared at you.

‘Fine. Bruce,’ he eventually grunts, reluctantly sliding the thing under one arm as you slide your arm into the other.

‘You let me win, Six. You’re not getting away with it that easy.’

‘You didn’t want to win?’ he smarms.

‘Of course I did. I just didn’t want you to pretend to lose for my benefit.’

Six sighs resignedly. ‘Hungry?’ he suggests, hoping you can forget about the stupid ring the bell game over a bag of sugary doughnuts together, but an idea lights up in your eyes and you drag him away in the opposite direction.

You pass the stunt cage and watch a peroxide blonde mount a motorcycle, making a mental note to return to here later and catch the next show. But for now, you had other ideas.

‘You mentioned the haunted house?’

Six’s brow furrows again.

‘Oh, impatient are we? I apparently had to win a biassed game to get what I wanted, so I’ll take it at my leisure, thank you.’

Six rolls his eyes and drops back in defeat, leaving you free to stop off at the sweet stall for a big cloud of blue cotton candy on the way.

He watches you as you excitedly point to what you want, still clutching your balloon as he clutches Bruce. He’s in awe at the way you move, the way you laugh with the vendor as though you’ve known her your entire life, the glee on your face as you return to him with the ball of pure sugar.

You reach up to pop a handful into his mouth, fingertips brushing briefly against his bottom lip. He almost lets out a hum at how your gentle touch tingled, but manages to stop it before it erupts.

‘How’s it taste?’ you ask innocently, tearing off a chunk of blue for yourself.

Six blinks away, inclined to answer with something like Not as good as I bet you do, but worried it would be too much. So he stayed silent as you shared the rest of the floss with him.

‘Will that keep you going?’ you ask teasingly, not waiting for an answer. ‘Haunted house next!’

You grab his hand to pull him toward the attraction, your knees weakening slightly as you feel how big it is against yours. You’ve noticed the size of his hands before; big, warm looking palms and long, surprisingly elegant fingers.

‘I’ve never actually been in one,’ you admit excitedly as you stop by the little ticket office to admire it in all its stereotypical horror film beauty. ‘But I’ve always wanted to. I love a bit of a spook!’

Six takes care of the tickets and follows your lead. You step inside and drop his hand as you venture first. A skeleton pops out to wave and you laugh, but then there's a second, unexpected skeleton, and you jump, grabbing his hand again.

Six’s cheeks turn hot at how you find safety in him, but you can’t see the blush colouring his cheeks in the gloom of the spooky corridors. He’s thankful for that.

You move closer when the winding path through the house grows darker, sickly smelling smoke making it hard to see very far ahead of you, and eventually you’re so close to Six that his breathing catches in his throat.

The haunted house doesn’t phase him one bit; he predicts almost every movement before it occurs and has absolutely no fear of the dead and creepy; it’s an occupational hazard that he’s much more concerned with the living and creepy. But having you cling to his arm feels nice somehow. It makes him feel safe and wanted, which is new, and surprisingly pleasant. He doesn’t want you to let go and hopes there's a while before this comes to an end.

A group of ghosts sweeps past and you giggle, but the bizarre gust of wind that accompanies them chills you to the bone. Before you can quite recover, a clown appears right in your path, and you jump enough for Six to automatically pull you closer. Feeling you tremble with the after effects of your surprise, he quickly seeks out a particularly dark, undisturbed corner and tugs you toward it, setting you in front of him so you’re facing away from whatever else is going on in the haunted house for a moment.

‘Hey, you doing ok?’ He sounds lighthearted, but you can tell he’s forcing it, concern lacing his tone.

‘Yeah! Yeah, it’s fun, it’s just…’ you trail off.

‘A little jumpy,’ he nods, as though he agrees, but you know he isn’t phased.

As your eyes adjust in the darkness, they find his piercing blue gaze intense on yours and your heart races a little faster.

‘Need a break?’ he whispers huskily..

You can only nod. The thrill of being scared out of your wits is all part of the fun for you, but being so close to Six after the adrenaline rush, alone together in the dark, renders you speechless. You’ve been drawing closer by the second and now you’re mere inches from his face, can feel his warm breath on your cheek, smell his peppery cologne. Bruce nudges you in the chest and six drops him.

You can’t recall how it started, you just know that your lips were trembling one moment, and pressed to Six’s the next. His muscular arms snake around your waist as his strong hands glide up your back, pulling you flush to his chest and finally letting out that hum he tried to suppress when your finger grazed his bottom lip earlier. It vibrates against you and you think this might be as close to reckless abandon as Six might get and smile against his mouth.

You feel his tongue, hot and wet, trace the join of your lips and you instantly part them, eagerly inviting his tongue to slide against yours. It’s languid and needy, and the taste of the cotton candy you’d shared hits you first. It tastes different on his tongue than yours — more blue somehow — and then the artificial sugary fruit of the Skittles he’d been periodically chewing on all night follows. It’s sickly sweet, but so him you can’t help but find it delicious.

The groans and cackles and clanks of the haunted house fade into nothingness behind you, and it’s just him. Just Six, and you, hidden away. Secure and yet adventurous, safe and exciting. Your grip on the balloon he’d won you loosens and it floats up to the ceiling, somewhere in the dark, ready to be discovered when the carnival moves on.

He shifts a little, suddenly impatient, and deepens the kiss with a quiet moan that sends butterflies soaring in your stomach, and when the fingers tenderly rubbing at the nape of your neck slide up into your hair and scrape against your scalp you all but swoon, thankful he has you pinned against his chiselled frame within those thick arms to keep you upright.

The kiss slows to a stop, and Six pulls back for breath, sighing almost dreamily. He’s smiling at you, but it’s not playful or jokey this time. It’s warm and soft, and unlike any expression you’ve seen on his features before.

‘Better?’ he breathes, already fumbling in his pocket to retrieve yet another Skittle and drop it into his mouth.

‘Much,’ you smile back.

He drops his gaze, coy, and nods. ‘I’m excellent at distraction techniques.’ And with that, his mischievous sparkle is back. ‘Now can we please get some food? Skittles will only sustain me for a few days.’

You roll your eyes spiritedly, and one corner of his mouth twitches, pleased he’s calmed you enough to be mock-exasperated with him.

Six holds an elbow up as an offer for you to tuck yourself under his arm again, and you accept, pulling his forearm up gently to cover your eyes. As cute as the ghosts and skeletons had been, that final clown jump scare just about finished you off.

After collecting discarded Bruce, he carefully guides you back out into the bustle and bright lights of the fair, the familiar melodies of carnival music and the sizzle of the nearby hot dog stall flooding your senses again, and you pull his arm away from your eyes.

‘Thank you,’ you mouth, reaching up to stroke his cheek with a tender caress.

His eyes slide shut and he leans into your touch for just a moment, but he’s quick to snap his gaze back to his surroundings again. Force of habit, you supposed.

You drop your hand and look around too, getting your bearings. ‘So what can I get you? My treat.’ 

His gaze is already trained on the doughnut stand before you finish the sentence. Laughing, you nod and head over without waiting for his confirmation, bringing him back a bag of four deliciously golden doughnuts dusted in thick sugar.

Six eyes you suspiciously as you hand over the little paper bag. ‘I didn’t give you my order.’

‘Didn’t need to; I saw you eyeing them. To be honest, even if I didn’t, I could’ve guessed.’

Six, paused with a doughnut half way to his mouth, raises a questioning eyebrow at you. 

‘Six. Come on. You taste like sugar.’

Six blushes deeply. He’d never considered how he might taste. He felt exposed, but in a good way? He wasn’t sure how to explain it. You see it this time, and smile inwardly.

‘What, you want my fries instead?’

‘No, no, I’m good,’ he protests, taking a bite big enough to tear the first doughnut clean in half and mumbling through a full, sugary mouth, ‘thank you.’

[mondaymelon]

— 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝗱 !? ♥

:feat~ xiao, kazuha, scaramouche x gn!reader:

⤷ fluff. fluff to cure to soul.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

Seems like someone is catching feelings... how do they hide them? (...or try to)

XIAO is impossibly perplexed... both at himself, and you.

Because when it comes down to it, he's an immortal and you're merely a human, two contrasting types of beings that should never strive to coexist... alongside one... another...

...Yet, why does he wish for that possibility, with the few remnants of hope that still remain in his soul?

It's something unnatural, these emotions that are welling up in his body, but he can't bring himself to detest it. The feelings that arise when he's with you, the quickened rate of his heartbeat and the strange heat that's risen to his face... while all of it is unnervingly unfamiliar, somehow, it's comforting.

And he can't begin to explain why... but he's felt this warmth in his being before... albeit on a lesser scale. The way his eyes seem to light up, ever so slightly when you appear before him... yes, he's seen this before.

He recognizes it.

And it's what they call 'love.'

He wants to scoff at the very notion of such an outlandish topic. One that he could never even dream of experiencing... until, of course, now.

He's certainly not the most expressive in his emotions, so at first, it's almost like the atmosphere between the two of you hasn't even changed. But soon enough, it's growing more and more clear, from the way his usually unreadable facade has morphed into one of a flustered expression whenever you get too close, how he sometimes flinches when the two of you make contact... and how sometimes, he refuses to meet your eye, staying silent.

Maybe you don't notice it in the beginning, but as time goes on, it'll only become more and more apparent. More and more obvious, until...

"I think I'm in love with you." ♥

KAZUHA has heard tales of such... emotions from the Crux's drunken sailors.

But to say that prepared him for confronting such feelings himself... that was a different topic entirely. The most he'd felt of such 'love' was when his past friend was still alive... but the affection he had experienced then was nothing compared to how passionate his adoration of you was.

Needless to say, he had found himself knee deep in such a predicament. Running through his mind all of those stories the sailors had spun... tales of a beloved...

Kazuha would be jesting if he claimed that he had never imagined himself in such rose-tinted fantasies. And now that he was in one himself, he's already far too entranced to deny it.

Ah... but working up the courage to confess is much too difficult... so for now, the wanderer will tarry with his time, writing poems of professing his adoration and daydreaming about the moment as the Crux's hull is gently lulled by the waves. Perhaps one day he'll sort himself out, perhaps one day he'll find himself speaking those three words that are spoken between lovers.

Kazuha is used to hiding, being a vagrant and a wanted criminal, however, cloaking his affection is another story. The male know's he's being painfully obvious, even when he's trying to act subtle... but he certainly can't help the way his cheeks flush whenever the two of you accidentally brush hands, or the way his mouth can't help but form a serene smile whenever you laugh. And every time those moments reoccur, time and time again, he gains just a slight more incentive.

In the moonlight, his beauty is striking, but all he can think of is you.

"...I have something important to tell you.

I'm in love with you." ♥

SCARAMOUCHE denies it. His feelings for you, and no matter how easily you're able to fluster him.

Why? To be exact, he's not even sure...

Maybe it has to do with the fact that he's closed off his heart to people long before he even met you. He who killed his emotions, so that they wouldn't hinder him. In order for his past torments to end.

"Killed..." Yet somehow, he still... felt something towards you, and unfamiliar emotion that seemed to bubble up from inside him and developed quicker by the day. An affection... obsession towards you that he couldn't stop.

...Would he want to stop it at all?

Needless to say, he's head over heels... but still persists onwards like nothing has transpired within that head of his. Sure, he feels strangely attracted towards you and everything you do, but that doesn't mean anything. Means nothing at all.

Ah, but even someone as powerful as Scaramouche can't keep such pining bottled up for who knows how long... sooner or later, a confession will arrive... and he knows full well of it.

The very thought of it has him disgusted.

Is he even able to feel such an emotion as 'love'? Perhaps he's just imagining it, a delusion forged by his own mind to satiate his sole self... after all, he doesn't even have a heart. He doesn't have anything to prove that he has a single shred of 'humanity.'

Or perhaps, he did 'have' one, and you were the one who stole it.

Haha, if that's the case, perhaps he won't mind. He'll bide his time, clench the fabric over his chest, smiling to himself as he imagines his absent heart beating alongside yours.

And maybe one day, he'll understand what his love towards you means. ♥

(a/n) once again, scaramouche is the only one who doesn't confess to it. (oops)

[degredationfanfics]

Took two days to write it. If it's repetitive sorryyyy I did breaks in between. Nsfw, small mention of past post, beware it's horny.

John kneels at your feet, chin resting on your knees, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he avoids your gaze. His lips part as he stammers, "This really necessary?" His voice is shaky, betraying just how flustered he is. He’s half-hard, clearly worked up, but too embarrassed to admit it, even though his body tells a different story.

You run your fingers through his tangled hair, smiling softly as he squirms beneath your touch. His blush deepens, his body trembling, caught between the need to submit and the shame of being in such a vulnerable state. “Tsk, wolfman…~” you murmur teasingly, brushing your fingers over the rough scars on his cheek. His breath falters, and when you lean in for a kiss, his lips move against yours weakly, distracted. He’s too far gone in his arousal, his mind clouded with conflict.

You coax him to his feet, hands sliding down to cup his bare lubed ass. He’s no longer the scrawny John Marston from years ago; family life has filled him out, giving him a solidness you admire. His body, while not as broad as Arthur’s, carries a certain weight that suits him, makes him look healthier.

"Damn you..." Before he can protest, your fingers slip between his cheeks, teasing his untouched entrance. His familiar musk of sweat and earth clings to him—raw, masculine, and undeniably John. When the tip of your finger presses in, his body tenses, a shudder running through him. A guttural moan escapes his lips, more honest than any words he could manage.

"Fuck!" he slurs, his heavy-lidded eyes briefly meeting yours before you tug him forward by his neckerchief, guiding him to the bed with a roughness that leaves him stumbling. You lift his legs with ease, positioning him exactly how you want. His eyes stay glued to yours, wide and vulnerable, and in this moment, he looks almost… breedable. The thought sends a shiver through you. His need is unmistakable, etched into every line of his body, and you relish it. Your hardened cowboy, laid bare and trembling beneath your touch.

Grinning, you savor the sight of him. You spank his ass, the sharp smack making him jolt, followed by a firm pinch that draws a breathless gasp from him. His cock is fully hard now, twitching for attention, but you don’t give it to him just yet. You grip it, feeling its weight—it’s not the biggest you’ve ever seen, but that doesn’t matter.

"You're holding well, boy~" you purr, biting your lip as you squeeze him. His whole body tenses in response, and he instinctively reaches for his cock, but you stop him before he can touch himself. His hand hovers midair, frustration and need swirling in his pleading gaze.

"Nuh-uh... not until I say so, Johnny~" you tease with a smirk. He groans but you keep him in place, your finger inside him moving slowly, driving him crazy.

His cock is already dripping with precum, and each twitch of his body, every whimper, makes your grin widen. Watching him unravel beneath you is intoxicating—knowing that you have him completely at your mercy.

John’s moans grow louder, each one a wordless plea for more. He trembles beneath you, his body straining with need, hoping you’ll finally take it further. He’s too lost in his own desire to say anything coherent, his hips swaying in a futile attempt to get more of your touch.

Somehow, the two of you have shifted positions without quite focusing on it. Now, John is on his stomach, chest pressed to the mattress, while you straddle him from behind, still working your finger deep into his manhole. His back arches as you continue, his body responding with a raw intensity he never expected. The tension between you is electric, even though you can no longer see his face.

Then, he begins to grind against you, his hips moving instinctively, rubbing into your crotch. The friction sends a sharp wave of pleasure through you. His movements are clumsy, but the sensation of him pressing against your clit while you finger him drives you to the edge. You bite your lip, struggling to stay focused as desire clouds your mind.

You wish you had a cock right now—to truly claim him, to fuck him the way you know he wants. The thought burns through you, and you wonder if John feels the same, lost in the haze of need. He grinds harder, slurring with his stupidly sexy rough voice, his body nearing its breaking point.

John Marston, the hardened outlaw, reduced to this—a desperate mess, rubbing against you like he's in heat. Your bitch in heat. He's always, in heat...The realization swells inside you, filling you with a fierce sense of ownership. He’s yours too, completely and utterly.

You sink your teeth into his neck, then his shoulder, and finally his ear, each bite drawing a deep shudder from John. It makes him so horny, his muscles taut as your fingers continue to work his now-loosened entrance, sliding in and out with ease. The wet, rhythmic slap of your fingers fills the room, and he’s helpless against the pleasure that overtakes him. Panting, whining, completely overwhelmed, he clings to you, like a lost puppy in need of comfort. “Good boy,” you murmur over and over again, your voice thick with satisfaction. You can feel how soaked you are, the warmth between your legs undeniable. Onto his skin, you left marks that’ll last, little trails of saliva and spots of blood dot his neck and shoulder.

{Your husband's masochistic tendencies were something you toyed with with great amusement. You knew he wasn't going to mind a few love bites. The guy was ready to piss his tought guy cowboy jeans for you afterall...}

Tears begin to gather in his eyes, the intensity of the moment pushing him to the brink. And then, with a sharp gasp, he cums. It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced before—his body convulses with the force of it, shuddering as pleasure overtakes him completely. But even as he rides out his release, he stays focused, determined to keep going, to give you everything. His hips still in motion, grinding, humping, rubbing up against you, driven by some animalistic need to keep pleasing you. In his haze of lust and devotion, he’s wild, needy, barely holding himself together. You could practically hear him bark as he loses himself in that role you’ve put him in. And wooaah, you love seeing him like this...

With one final, sharp slap to his ass, you signal that it’s over. His body jolts, then collapses against the bed, trembling and spent. He lies there, gasping, panting, utterly drained, still a bit teary eyed and you smile down at him. He got you completely satisfied. And you didn't even had to touch yourself. Man, he really was something.

[emojellyace08]

Found you're writing really good 😈😈 and now you're my next target 😂😂 How do you think gun would react finding someone 100x times beautiful from crystal with great body anddddddd 👀👀👀 is strong like ui daniel but is not quite rich and lives a normal life working at a part time cafe ??? 😮😮😮 lordddd 🤌🤌 the reaction would be priceless, please do it 🥲

Gun Park (Park Jonggun x Female Reader!) short story

A/N: Hello fellow human! Sorry if I ever replied back REALLY LATE. I'll still make Lookism x reader content, but I'm really busy rn so sorry if this felt rushed (and I have a periodical exams to take in Wedensday oof). Genre: fluff? Warnings: mild cursing and mentions of mafia activities (unedited)

Gun isn't exactly the type to easily fall in love, even impressing him alone without trying hard is challenging by itself as many successors, enemies, and other people tried to show their all to the Shiro Oni. But every blood, sweat, and tears were wasted just trying to lay a finger by the unstoppable man, if they would even call him one.

And it is also just a normal day for everyone, people in the city are either spending their money off by their personal plans or continue on with their daily lives. Other women were having their shopping galore either with their friends or alone with quite noticeable make-up plastered on their face yet making their face sparkle up with the cosmetics. Ulzzangs posting their new selfies getting tons, if not millions of likes and social media users having a debate who's prettier or more attractive. Students were stressing out with their school activities or gossip drama with the adults wanting to slack off and get a chug of beer after a long day of their shifts or just take a long nap like a lazy cat with their eyebags being dark and hollow like a panda.

And to most people, you're just an ordinary woman living her life in the crowded city of Seoul. You wouldn't exactly call it the best life ever, but you were somehow thankful to make it this far after long days of shifts and even sometimes working on Holidays even if you want to have a sip of your own coffee at your own place. You're already a functional and working adult yet you sometimes miss your home despite you and your family having your own personal problems. Yet you continue to strive not only for them but mostly for yourself. If it weren't for some men forcing you to have a chat with you by offering their numbers quite rudely, you might even have better days without them putting you into situations you don't even want to experience just because you were considered beautiful.

It was already five in the afternoon, yet you're still there at the cafe doing your duties as a barista and a waitress. The place will be quite silent, almost weird with the sound of silence if it weren't for the chatty customers with some chilling with their drink and pastries of choice. College students doing their research in groups, office-workers updating their marketing plans, and angsty teenagers listening to their melancholic music with their Airpods on. With the stress that you are feeling right now, you felt the need to listen to your own playlist while you watched the sun sank in the sky with a splash of pink, yellow, and blue creating a splash of colors that felt nostalgic yet different at the same time.

Hours passed with people coming in and out, the sky already turning night time with white stars sparkling at night. The yellow lights of the place illuminating at the dark to not only make the place more atmospheric, but to also make the customers feel comfortable with the chill yet warm vibe.

"Miss Y/N, are you already getting the order done for customer five?" your manager with a dark perfect bun for her hairstyle with pale foundation, reddish blush and lip tint, and sunken eye bags (reminding you of a porcelain doll) asked with a raised eyebrows and strict tone as you responded with a hum for agreement while you're mixing and preparing the drink condiments. "Yes Sajangnim (boss) I'm already done with the coffee macchiato and I already have the egg sandwich." you replied while hurrying to prepare the Americano. "Good, more tickets are coming you better hurry up." she replied while she scolds your co-worker that you are deeply annoyed at when she's slumping on the side clicking on her phone instead of helping you out. "She's probably texting someone to date huh?" a voice on your side whispered while you yelped in surprise. "Fucking, geez stop spawning randomly on the side like that." you hissed as he chuckles silently trying to minimize his voice while you also tried not to laugh hysterically. "Okay fine. You're working too much. I'll do the coffee latte and get the mango graham and the croissant." he suggested while your eyes widened in confusion and a bit of surprise. "You sure Jace?" you asked the young man with big ears as he raises a thumbs up "It's fine Eonni (older sister ; metaphorically). Now you go." "You just want your fees to go higher." you teased as he manners to go shooing you away. "I need it since I got to repair Vasco's phone." "Whatever, just do the job right and smooth." you smiled while he finger guns with a tongue-click sound.

You took the orders in your hand and approached the table before you quickly noticed the two familiar guys. You sighed before going closer to the very annoying customers just then the blonde with dark shades greeted you with a dramatic enthusiasm.

"Yo Y/N! It's nice to see you where have you been?!" Goo stood up while waving his hand making the other customers look in confusion. You not wanting to create a scene, you placed the tray in the table and planned to go away. But a hand held your own in a soft but not rather affectionate touch before you swat it away.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" you asked while you felt your blood boiling in frustration. "But we're here to-" "Shut the fuck up Walmart Ken." you scolded Goo while he created a insulting gasp while the ebony-haired man smirked in amusement. "We're here for Charles orders. We're going to take you back in the place where you truly belong for unfinished business." he commented in a calm yet teasing manner making you even more agitated. "This is my business, Gun." If it weren't for the other customers if they ever got frightened and with your manager firing you, you might created a miserable scene that you don't want to happen in the first place. But these people haunts down your biggest fears like a black hole swallowing your entire existence.

"And how did you even find me here? And don't you see the no smoking sign?" you rolled your eyes making Goo and Gun grin more while Gun huffs his smoke, "We have our own ways." "And c'mon Y/N, we know you miss doing tough missions with us!" Goo again interfered while you stood their in cold feet not knowing what to do with this situation. "And besides Charles is offering you a billion won with making the four major crews stronger for him to pay you, even make it thrice the price if you did the job well." Gun offered while taking a sip of his coffee and the other man looking at the menu sheet to order more of the sweets. "Well don't you contact me when either the Workers tried to interfere or your goons stabbing all of your backs." you replied with a sass while Gun just replies. "If that ever happens, I'm not going to hesitate to beat their-" "Yo Y/N, can I get a latte with a chocolate doughnut?" the childish guy ordered interrupting Gun's long speech. Though his eye accessory hides his orbs, you can imagine (almost see) Goo flickering his eyelashes like a puppy begging to play with it's owner. "Whatever, I'm leaving." you rolled your eyes in frustration before going to the employee room and aggressively slamming the door. "Wait what? Y/N We still have lots to talk about and my order-" Goo was about to chase you before Gun kicked him in the legs under the table, successfully earning a hiss of pain from the other guy. "Let her be, she'll change her mind." Gun interrupted while Goo raised his eyebrows. "Hah?! For fuck's sake we're just going to let her run away? Again? You'll be in fault if Charles scolded our scrawny asses again." Goo ranted as the people in the cafe started to weirdly glare at them for being to noisy. "I know where she's going, besides she would get scolded, even probably fired since she left during her shift. So just stay calm." Gun replied while stealing the sweet and umami food that Goo just offered that's been sitting for a minute now. "Hey! that's my sandwich!" "Just buy another one you got twenty thousand won on your wallet." Gun replied while he wipes off the extra mayo on his mouth with a tissue. "Says the one who's chomping off my toast right now, idiot." "Stop making Gordon Ramsey references or I'll kill you."

"Y/N where the hell have you been! Don't you see that there's lots of tickets flooding in here?! Oi you brat answer me!" your manager who's been flickering your guts scolded you while your co-worker from earlier smirks at your downfall, you not only fixing your bag in your locker but also trying to make yourself composed as you don't want to lash out your anger to the people who have done nothing wrong to you (they do, a lot but you just don't complain about it). "If you won't answer my question-" "Shut up." you murmured interrupting her speech in a lifeless manner. "I'll leave. You can fire my ass." "Hey Y/N what is going on in here?" Jace asked before you again slammed the exit door, leaving the poor guy confused and lots of responsibility in his hands...

You ran, as fast as you could. You kept running and running. You ran past the tall buildings filled with city lights creating a beautiful atmosphere, yet the familiar feeling of sorrow began to linger on your mind and heart reminding you of the memories of the past that you tried to bury deep down to start a completely fresh start of the first chapter of your life. But it looks like even books can have it's pages ripped and burned.

After a long mile, you stopped your movement as you breathe deeply trying to catch air like you're being suffocated by your feeling of dread. You didn't want to go in this place, but it is the only place that you called home.

This is the place where you met them, where you grew up, and where you were turned into a monster.

It is an old and abandoned park, the fake wood texture of the metal benches started to rust with the colorful paint with vulgar words and drawings adding to the stain. Trash were everywhere, even a scary place like this looks like it's been a hang out for runaway teenagers or addicts. The trees and plants look completely dry and lifeless since it's not been watered and just not being cared of, making the crunchy leaves fall down into the ground. Newspaper with the dirty and used ashtrays and used beverage bottles were also scattered in the area. It is a complete mess like what you are right now, but the smell of toxins and beer makes your mind hazy and in peace as you try to think of the good memories that you have in here (if you ever had one).

You thought that you can finally have your moment of peace and solitude. But it looks like you have to deal with these fuckers you kept whistling and cooing at your existence. Looks like they're drunk men who's been wasting their life, completely indulged in alcohol and other things that are addicting even though they mostly look formal, decent, and clean. The police were doing a bad job for shooing away people who don't have a home but doesn't arrest people like this. People who were supposed to act normal and responsible now that they have everything, not chugging on alcohol.

"Who is this chick over here?" a skinny man with a white polo asked as his friend's arms snaked into your shoulder, making you uncomfortable. "What are you doing here alone? Is your boyfriend supposed to take-" "Shut the fuck up and leave me alone retards." you swatted his hand away and getting distance from them, but this doesn't alarm the men keeping their annoying behavior in touch. They started making laughs and mocking faces making your blood boil. "Feisty huh? Don't worry, We will take care of yo-"

Everything went fast as you slammed him into the ground. His friends were caught off guard but the other goon decided to take you down. "You bitch!-"

It looks like a bad idea huh? Since you were so fast, you managed to capture and block his punch. You put pressure on his hand as you then twisted it making it dislocate and elbowing him on his armpit impacting pain on his shoulder and upper limb. He is now crying on the ground, coughing and crying like a little toddler who scratched his elbow as the other men decided to attack you besides the leader of the group who cowers in fear. Kicks, punches, and attacks are made by you causing them to get knocked out by your bare strength. You clicked your tongue in dismay when a familiar figure approached the scene. "I knew that you would be here." he muttered while you huffed in pure disgust as Gun smirked at the damage you have inflicted. "If you asked again for me to be a slave of your shitty management I'm not going with you." cutting him off with a unsatisfied tone, you started walking away from the place but then he tapped your shoulder. But you're not in the mood to interact with anybody. You didn't even thought twice that you punched him in the face yet he didn't even budged. A flow of blood starting to drool down on his chin. The masochistic Shiro Oni starting to get excited about your sudden aggression as he let himself get hit in the first place. "Will you stop following me around like a dog?! GET LOST YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"

"Punching me on the face would not end great for you, but this is why I like you Y/N. Now show me what you got can you?~" his demonic grin appearing on his scarred face.

[oneofthosebells]

Not managed to pull anything proper together yet for Wille's month, but the Day 11 prompt (Future), reminded me of a crack fic idea I kind of really want to write one day...

Erik gets a vision of his own future somehow (psychic, witch, friendly angel, take your pick) shortly before parents' weekend and the car crash. But it's a limited vision; he gets flashes of his own death, the funeral, the video leak, Simon breaking up with Wille - twice - and lots of flashes of Wille suffering and heartbroken. Disturbed by the vision, Erik drives (slowly and carefully for once) to Hillerska for parents' day where he quickly sees that Wille is head over heels for Simon.

So, of course, he asks his good pal August to give him the lowdown on Simon, and August is more than happy to badmouth the rude, money-grubbing little commoner who shows no respect for his social betters and isn't at all a suitable friend for a prince. And Erik realises that not only was his vision of the future true and that Simon is going to break his little brother's heart, but that it must be Simon who leaks the video, for money or fame.

So Erik, with August's eager help, sets out to get rid of Simon any way they can. But every plan fails. Because they hadn't reckoned with just how far Wille would go to protect Simon and prevent him being kicked out of Hillerska. Wille calls his brother in an outrage that August is trying to get Simon expelled for dealing drugs?! And how DARE he when it was all August's fault in the first place, and he's never actually paid Simon for any of it, and can Erik throw some royal weight around and back Wille up in proving Simon's innocence and getting August expelled instead please? Because they can claim August is just blaming Simon to cover up his own misdeeds in stealing/buying ADHD meds from other students. [Sara can testify August tried to buy meds from her, and there's no actual evidence of Simon's involvement as no money has exchanged hands and there's no second lot of meds with Micke's name on in this timeline]. Erik can't tell Wille he's not on Simon's side, and to his horror, there's enough evidence against August on top of unpaid tuition fees to get him kicked out.

The weeks/months go by and Erik gets more and more desperate without his mole on the inside - because Wille seems blissfully in love and happier than he's ever been whenever he speaks to him, but Erik knows Simon's going to break his heart, he's seen it. And he knows for definite that Simon is a wrong 'un - he got August expelled! He's anti-monarchy and a socialist! He's clearly a bad influence!

Then one day, Wille calls him upset because he had a big row with Simon, and maybe they are just too different to make it work, and he thinks this is it, they've broken up - but then Erik's hopes are dashed when Wille calls him happily the next day to tell him actually they've sorted everything out again.

Erik's frustrated and desperate and maybe losing the plot a little bit by now because he's been obsessed with ending this relationship for so long now he's almost forgotten the original reasons why. But he does remember the one thing from his vision that would definitely break them up - the video leak. Erik doesn't have a video, but he does have revealing photos - (probably August took them, haven't quite worked out the details of that one yet) - and as Erik's obsession with getting rid of Simon at any cost reaches a peak, he clicks send on the anonymous tip off to a journalist...

(@youngroyals-events)

[webshooterrr9]

merman diary 3

[TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION. ORIGINAL WRITING IN THE LOCAL LANGUAGE OF THE MERFOLK]

w.c: 1.15k

content warning: none (yet)

written with no specific character in mind - so imagine this as a mermaid!au with whoever you want! male!char x fem!reader

Diary Entry - 10/26/24

She taught me how to speak.

Our first encounter was not as magical as I hoped. She was scared of me at first. I couldn’t imagine why. She was the weird one. It took a few days for me to see her again, but once I did, I took my opportunity to introduce myself. She had her book again, and was peacefully reading when I went up to her.

‘She’s here again,’ I thought. I watched as her hair seemed to flow in the wind the same way it would under the sea. Her eyes seemed so focused on what she was reading, squinting occasionally with every turn of the page. Her face would sometimes react to whatever words she saw on the page, with a laugh or two here and there. She was gorgeous.

Just like every other day, I made sure to stay far from her line of sight so that I could watch her without interruption. But today, I knew I had to introduce myself. How could I not? She was a mythical creature unlike anything I had seen before - I had to make myself a part of her life, of her world. Cautiously, I swam closer, making sure to stay just under the surface of the water. I made my way to the shore, letting my tail drag against the sand as I crawled my way through the shallow water. The female was so immersed in her reading that it took a while before she noticed me. I managed to crawl up until I was only a few shells away from her before she finally looked up.

I quickly covered my ears. She let out the most terrifying screech I had ever heard, jumping back in shock. I was mortified; leaping back into the water, I hid under the waves for a few minutes before my ears stopped ringing. There is no way to describe how I felt other than shocked. How could such a stunning creature emit such a deafening sound? But my curiosity didn’t waver; I gathered my courage and peeked above the waves once more. She was still there.

I grew very confused. She looked frozen. I wondered if it was my fault. What did I do? The only movements in her body was the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. The female stared at me with wide eyes - a direct contrast from the calm, musing look she had while examining her book. My interest got the best of me, and I swam right back up to the shore where I had been previously. She gasped as I got closer, but dared not move. How could she be scared of me? I clearly wasn’t gonna hurt her. Maybe she’s never seen a merman before - but how couldn’t she? We’re everywhere - and she’s right by the ocean.

I decided to try a new technique, since she clearly wasn’t getting the message. I lowered my body towards the sand, almost completely flattening myself against it, in an attempt to make myself smaller and less threatening. Again, I have no clue why I had to do this, since she was obviously the strange one, but whatever. She seemed to understand what I was trying to communicate at this point. Her body relaxed somewhat and her eyes returned to their more lidded state. ‘Okay,’ I thought. ‘We’re making progress.’

I reached my hand out to her, only to notice the lack of webbing in between her fingers. Merfolk had short fins on the back of their arms, and slight webbing in between each of our fingers to make gliding through water easier. But she had none of that. Could she swim? I guess she didn’t need to. But why would she be so close to the water if she couldn’t even enter it? Nonetheless, I continued my slow advance towards her, and she made no effort to back away this time. I touched her hand with mine. Her skin was… dry, but somehow still soft. I let my fingers graze her knuckles, eventually turning her hand over to trace her palm. She just watched me, the both of us curiously examining each other.

She wasn’t afraid of me anymore. And I continued to meet her almost every day after that.

Over the next few days, we visited each other almost every day. Well, I visited her, but still. It was a gradual process, with each meeting allowing us to get even closer. Every day I saw her, she would try to talk to me, and I to her. I quickly realized that her brain was less intelligent than mine, as I was able to grasp the meaning behind her speech, but she was still struggling with my language. But I desperately wanted to communicate with her, so I stopped trying to teach her my language and instead focussed on learning hers. It was relatively easy - the grammar was roughly the same - and I felt very proud of my new speaking ability.

She is a human. That is what these creatures are called. And I was right in my assumption that she was a female. A woman. Apparently, not all humans are solitary (most of them live in groups), but she enjoyed her alone-time.

It was fascinating. Learning more about her and the culture of this new species. I tried to teach her about the culture of my people, but I found that her language did not have adequate words for what I was trying to say. It doesn’t matter, though. My world can wait. All I want is to learn about her.

She told me her name. She told me her age. She told me her role in society (it’s called a job, or whatever.), and how she lives her daily life. She explained why she liked to hang out on the beach, and why she couldn’t be here every day. I just listened. How could I not? I had no interest in speaking when her words said enough. Entranced is the only way to describe it. I thought she was beautiful before, but now… oh my. She’s the light of my life.

I can’t wait to show her my world. I need her. There’s always a looming fear in the back of my mind whenever we meet - that one day, the monsters will show up, and I’ll have to leave, never to see her again. I don’t want that to happen. I have to get her out of there. Land is too dangerous. I need to take her home, introduce her to the safety of my world - where nothing will hurt us. I need to show her to my people - let them admire my prized possession while I dote on her. It’s almost unnerving. She’s so special to me and I’ve only known of her existence for like a week. But I can’t help it. She’s enchanting. She’s magical.

a/n: will update this whenever i feel like it. no regular schedule set.

dividers by: @cafekitsune

[rainforestakiie]

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Haunted House~

hi! i am back with the haunted house day! i'm not sure what to say, it's a bit different and i tried to give it a new spine. i might write a part two later!

i hope you like it!

@adamsappleweek

The radio crackled with static before the voice on the other end broke through, chilling and distorted. It mentioned another body found in the park. Adam froze, his fingers twitching as he gripped the arm of his chair. This was the third one this week. He could almost feel the weight of the town's fear pressing down on him. Coldean, a sleepy, forgotten little town nestled in the shadows of the hills, had been under a dark cloud for months now. A predator, a phantom, roamed its streets.

The murders had started slow—one every few weeks—but now, the grim discoveries were growing more frequent. What tied the bodies together wasn’t something as simple as age or appearance. No, it was far more disturbing. Every victim had been found utterly drained of blood, their skin pale and taut over their bones like fragile porcelain dolls. Men, women, the elderly—it didn’t matter. The killer had no preference. Only one mercy was granted: no one under eighteen had been claimed yet. But that cold comfort did little to soothe the hearts of the town’s residents, whose whispered conversations in dimly lit rooms trembled with dread.

Each new corpse brought with it a fresh wave of terror, a creeping realization that the nightmare stalking Coldean wasn’t just some ordinary killer. There was something profoundly wrong, something unnatural about the way they were being found. It was as if death itself had a lover here, and they danced together, leaving behind nothing but hollow, lifeless bodies—bodies that had been kissed by darkness and drained of all they once held.

Adam stared at the radio, the eerie voice recounting the gruesome details of the latest murder twisting through the air like a spectre. His fingers, once busy with the task at hand, stilled as his mind drifted. The static-filled broadcast droned on, pulling him into a daze, where every word felt like a cold finger trailing down his spine. His thoughts spiralled, wondering what kind of monster lurked in Coldean, draining life from its victims as if savouring the fear, they left behind.

A sharp snap in front of his face yanked him back to reality. Adam blinked, his gaze refocusing as he looked up to find Lucifer, his boyfriend, standing over him with a pout. The pale fingers that had just snapped hovered in the air for a moment longer before retreating.

"Adam," Lucifer huffed, his arms crossed as he leaned down with a frown that somehow managed to be both scolding and adorable, "this is exactly why I wanted to get rid of that stupid radio."

Adam blinked again, owlishly, and then let out a soft laugh, feeling a warm flush creep up his neck to his cheeks.

"Sorry," he murmured, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Though your idea of getting rid of the radio was to chuck it out the window."

Lucifer's lips twitched into a grin, and he dropped to his knees in front of Adam, glancing over at the offending device as if it were some ancient relic.

"I’m just not a radio type of man," he sighed dramatically, his bright blue eyes shimmering with mischief.

Adam snorted, rolling his eyes fondly.

"You're not a modern technology type of guy," he teased.

Lucifer beamed up at him, that cherubic smile making Adam’s heart flutter dangerously. It was impossible not to melt under that gaze, no matter how ridiculous the situation.

"True," Lucifer admitted, leaning closer. His fingers brushed Adam's hand, sending a gentle warmth up his arm. "But I am so happy you're moving in with me."

His voice was softer now, almost a whisper, his words laced with affection.

Adam’s cheeks flared red, and he gave a sheepish shrug. "After the third time I said no, I couldn’t handle those puppy eyes any longer."

Lucifer hummed, his grin turning sly. He moved even closer, eyes gleaming. "I wouldn’t have stopped, you know. I would've kept going—grand gestures, over-the-top confessions, until you caved."

Adam leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, "It’s a good thing you’re so damn cute, or I’d have probably hit you by now."

Lucifer preened under the compliment, meeting Adam halfway to press a sweet, lingering kiss against his lips.

"I love you," he murmured against Adam’s mouth, his breath warm and soft. "I can’t wait for our first night together in our shared home."

Adam snorted but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at his lips.

"Me neither." His heart swelled at the thought.

For the past two years, he had been dating Lucifer Morningstar—an enigmatic, slender man with porcelain-white skin and a dash of rosy-cheeked charm. His blonde hair, streaked with faint coral tones, framed his bright blue eyes, always sparkling with mischief or affection. Though shorter than Adam, it wasn’t by much, but Lucifer had a way of filling a room with his presence, with his sharp smile and even sharper wit.

Lucifer’s grin was full of those same sharp teeth, an odd but strangely alluring feature. His hair was slicked back in a sleek ducktail style, save for one rebellious tuft. His appearance—complete with light purple eyelids and jet-black eyebrows—contrasted with the oversized, cozy sweaters he always bundled up in. And he had a terrible habit of stealing Adam’s clothes, especially his favourite hoodies and fuzzy socks, always looking cuter in them than Adam ever did.

In contrast, Adam was broader, with tanned skin kissed by the sun and a thick mop of brown hair threaded with deep red highlights. His bright green eyes stood out against the warm tones of his face, often catching the light whenever he stole a glance at Lucifer. The two had met in the most ridiculous of ways—by pure chance, colliding in a rain-soaked park one stormy day. Adam had been dog-sitting for his friend Eve, but her mischievous poodle had yanked free from his grip and bolted. Lucifer, by some miracle, had been nearby and helped him catch the runaway dog. From that moment, they were inseparable.

Adam adored him—more than he thought possible. The words tumbled out of him before he could stop them, soft and vulnerable. "I... I love you too." It was the first time he'd said it out loud.

Lucifer’s eyes widened, his entire face lighting up like the first rays of dawn breaking through a dark night. He grabbed Adam’s hands, pulling them close to his chest.

"What?" he gasped dramatically. "What was that? Say it again!"

Adam rolled his eyes, but the blush on his cheeks deepened. "I said... I love you too."

Lucifer let out an exaggerated gasp, clutching Adam’s hands even tighter. "You love me! You’ve finally succumbed to my charm!"

Adam chuckled, gently pushing him back. "Oh, stop it."

But Lucifer only grinned wider, his heart practically glowing. "Never."

Lucifer’s bright blue eyes scanned Adam’s flat, humming with approval as he noted the packed kitchen. Boxes were stacked neatly, all labelled and arranged according to the precise system Lucifer had devised. The sight made his heart swell with satisfaction.

"Well done," he praised, standing and dusting off his knees. "I’m impressed you’ve managed this much by yourself."

Adam’s face lit up at the compliment, his heart fluttering under the warmth of Lucifer’s gaze. Lucifer had this way of making the most mundane tasks feel like grand achievements. One of the many, many things Adam adored about his adorable boyfriend was that Lucifer was, well... a bit of a clean freak. The moment Adam had agreed to move in with him, Lucifer had practically pounced, producing an entire timetable of how to pack his things. It had included color-coded labels, a specific order for boxing up each room, and even how to stack the boxes in a way that maximized efficiency. Adam had been blown away by it all, and even more so by how organized Lucifer remained when he came over to help. Lucifer had been eager to whisk him away from this flat and into his beautifully restored Victorian home by the park.

"How’s your bedroom coming along?" Lucifer asked, glancing toward the closed door with a knowing glint in his eyes. "According to the schedule, it should be done by now."

Adam’s heart stuttered in his chest, panic flashing in his green eyes as he followed Lucifer’s gaze to the bedroom door. He hadn’t even started packing the bedroom. Not a single box had been touched.

"Uh, w-wait!" Adam leapt to his feet, trying to intercept Lucifer as he began to stride toward the door. Desperate, he threw out a hand.

"Hey, before you go in there, can I just say how cute you look today?" His voice was hurried, a little too eager, but he managed to force a smile. "I mean, really, Lucifer. You’re glowing."

Lucifer paused, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arching as he turned back to Adam. His grin softened into something affectionate as he stepped closer, leaning in to give Adam a quick peck on the lips.

"You’re sweet," he cooed. "But you look amazing too."

He gave Adam a playful tap on the nose, but his attention was already drifting back to the forbidden door.

Adam’s mind scrambled for another distraction. "Did you... uh, do something new with your hair today?"

Lucifer chuckled, running a hand through his sleek blonde locks.

"Nope. Same as always." His eyes narrowed with growing suspicion as he tried to sidestep Adam.

"Uh—wait, look!" Adam pointed dramatically over Lucifer's shoulder at nothing in particular. "A—uh, bird!"

Lucifer blinked, glancing back with mild confusion before rolling his eyes. "Adam," he sighed, smiling fondly but clearly undeterred.

"You’re not getting out of this." He gave Adam a gentle but firm nudge and brushed past him, making a beeline for the bedroom door.

"No, no, no—!" Adam practically lunged, but Lucifer was already pushing the door open.

The atmosphere shifted immediately. Lucifer stood in the doorway, his once warm expression turning to stone as his eyes took in the disaster that awaited him. The room was... a catastrophe. Clothes were strewn everywhere, furniture barely visible under the piles of clutter. There wasn’t a single box in sight. It looked like a whirlwind had torn through, leaving chaos in its wake.

Adam’s face flushed with embarrassment as he leaned awkwardly against the doorframe, rubbing the back of his neck. He tried to play it off, awkwardly whistling as if that might somehow distract from the disaster before them.

"Heh... uh, surprise?" he ventured, the laugh that followed painfully forced.

Lucifer’s lips pressed into a thin line, his once vibrant blue eyes darkening with irritation. He slowly turned to face Adam, his voice low and sharp. "Adam."

Adam gulped. He knew that tone. The tone of a man who had reached his limit.

"You haven’t even started," Lucifer stated, his voice barely more than a hiss. His gaze flicked back to the chaos, disbelief creeping into his expression. "You were supposed to be done by now."

Adam flared his hands wildly, trying to explain.

"I have started!" he insisted, panic edging his voice. "Look, I was going to—"

Lucifer’s eyes scanned the room again, taking in every inch of the over-the-top mess. He gasped, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "This?! This is starting?!"

Adam winced, rubbing his neck again as he tried to think of something, anything, to say. "I... I was just... taking a break?"

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped as he dragged a hand over his face, fighting the urge to scream. "You’re calling this a break? A break, for how long exactly?”

Lucifer sighed heavily, brushing his fingers along the bridge of his nose as though warding off an oncoming headache. His lips curled into a sharp, somewhat cruel grin that sent a shiver down Adam's spine. Those bright blue eyes, now gleaming with a dangerous mix of frustration and mischief, locked onto Adam’s.

“Well,” Lucifer drawled, his voice smooth but laced with venomous sweetness, “it looks like we’ve got such a fun night ahead of us, don’t we?”

The way Lucifer was staring at him made Adam’s instincts scream run. There was a certain gleam in Lucifer’s eyes, the kind that told Adam that his boyfriend was already mentally plotting out how the night was about to unfold—boxes, labels, and relentless cleaning until everything was in perfect order.

Adam let out a strained laugh, rubbing his hands nervously as his eyes darted around the chaos of his bedroom. The mess seemed so much worse now under Lucifer's scrutiny. It was less of a room and more of a rat's nest—a disaster zone he had somehow convinced himself he could "start later."

"Uh... yeah... fun," Adam echoed weakly, feeling the walls close in around him. He half-heartedly kicked a pile of clothes with his foot, as if that would somehow make it better. “I was, um, getting to it…”

Lucifer’s cruel smile softened just slightly, but his eyes never lost their gleam.

“Oh, don’t worry, darling,” he purred, stepping closer until their bodies were just inches apart, “We’re going to get to it together. Every last sock, every stray paper... it’s all going to find its home tonight.” His voice dripped with satisfaction, like a cat that had finally caught its mouse.

Adam gulped, desperately trying to think of a way out of this, but it was too late. Lucifer was already eyeing the clutter, mentally organizing each chaotic pile into neat, color-coded boxes.

The night had officially begun, and there was no escape.

Adam could only sigh in resignation, knowing there was no escaping Lucifer’s determination.

“Alright,” he muttered, giving in.

Lucifer’s face immediately lit up with a radiant smile, the frustration of earlier melting away as quickly as it had come. His blue eyes sparkled, and for a brief moment, Adam forgot about the looming night of hard work ahead. That smile made everything worth it.

Hours passed, and true to Lucifer’s timetable, they worked tirelessly, sorting through the chaos. By the time Adam taped up the final box, the sky outside had already begun to shift into the pale grey of dawn. He stretched his aching muscles, glancing over to check on Lucifer, only to find him curled up on top of one of the packed boxes, fast asleep.

A soft, fond smile tugged at Adam’s lips. Lucifer looked so peaceful, his delicate features softened by sleep, his long lashes casting faint shadows over his pale cheeks. He was so incredibly cute, so sweet, even after bossing Adam around all night. Adam let out a quiet sigh, his heart swelling with warmth as he moved closer. His hand reached out, gently brushing through the soft blonde hair that had fallen across Lucifer’s face.

Another odd thing about Lucifer was how cold he always seemed. Even now, as Adam’s fingers touched his skin, there was a chill that clung to him. Lucifer was perpetually freezing, no matter the time of year. Adam remembered how concerned he’d been the first time he noticed it—how every time they touched, it felt like he was holding ice. He’d worried endlessly that Lucifer might be sick, that something was wrong, but every time Adam brought it up, Lucifer would just laugh, brushing it off with a casual wave of his hand.

“I’m just naturally cold,” he’d say with that teasing smile, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Still, the icy touch had never deterred Adam. If anything, it made him want to hold Lucifer closer, to warm him up with his own body heat. Whether they were curled up in bed, lounging on the couch, or even just walking down the street, Adam couldn’t resist pulling Lucifer into his arms, holding him tight as if his warmth could seep into Lucifer’s bones.

Now, as Lucifer slept soundly, Adam bent down and kissed his cold forehead. The gesture was soft, tender, and full of love. Lucifer stirred slightly at the touch but didn’t wake, his lips parting just enough to let out a contented sigh. Adam chuckled under his breath, his heart feeling lighter despite the long night.

Carefully, he scooped Lucifer up, his slender frame fitting easily against Adam’s chest. Even in sleep, Lucifer instinctively snuggled closer, his hands curling into Adam’s shirt as he buried his face against Adam’s shoulder. Adam couldn’t help but smile as he carried him to the bed, cradling his perfect, cold, adorable boyfriend in his arms.

“Sleep well, love,” he whispered, laying Lucifer down gently and pulling the blanket over him.

With one last glance at the neatly packed boxes and the now peaceful room, Adam climbed in beside him, wrapping his arms protectively around Lucifer’s cool body.

Despite the chill, Adam felt nothing but warmth in his heart.

Adam stirred in the early hours of the morning, the room still cloaked in shadows with only the faintest dim light filtering through the curtains. The darkness wrapped around him like a heavy blanket, quiet and unsettling. He wasn’t fully awake yet, caught in that hazy state between dreaming and consciousness. He felt the mattress shift as something cold slid back under the covers, and instinctively, Adam reached out, pulling the familiar figure closer.

Lucifer.

Without thinking, Adam snuggled into him, burying his face against Lucifer’s cool skin. As always, his boyfriend’s body felt ice-cold, but tonight—or rather, this dark, creeping hour before dawn—he seemed colder than usual. A shiver ran down Adam's spine as Lucifer purred softly, the sound a low, almost animalistic rumble as he nuzzled his face against Adam’s throat, his cold breath brushing across Adam’s skin like a chilling breeze.

“Mm…” Adam hummed, half-awake, his voice a lazy whisper as he fought to shake the lingering grip of sleep.

"Did you go outside?" The words tumbled out in a drowsy slur, his mind slow to catch up with the oddity of the situation.

Lucifer made a soft sound of confirmation, his lips brushing the pulse point at Adam's neck in a delicate, almost eerie caress.

"Only for a second," he murmured, his voice smooth and sweet, like poisoned honey. "I thought I heard Snowbell outside."

Adam yawned, sinking deeper into the comfort of Lucifer’s embrace, the familiar chill oddly soothing despite the eerie stillness of the night. His nose pressed into the soft tangle of Lucifer’s pale blonde curls, his eyelids too heavy to open.

“Ah, okay…” he mumbled sleepily. “I hope Snowbell turns up before we move. That damn cat is always in and out.”

Lucifer chuckled, the sound soft but carrying an edge of something... darker, though Adam was too tired to notice. Lucifer’s cold, bony arms wrapped tighter around Adam’s warm middle, hugging him close, his touch feather-light yet possessive.

"It’s your fault for letting him out," Lucifer teased, his voice lilting playfully but with an undercurrent of something sharp. "I told you to keep him inside while we’re packing up the flat."

Adam pouted, eyes still closed, his mind only half-engaged.

"I didn’t let him out… The blasted cat outsmarted me," he grumbled, the words punctuated with another sleepy yawn.

Lucifer giggled softly, a melodic, almost too-perfect sound that seemed to hang in the air for a moment too long. His cool lips brushed Adam’s cheek, trailing up to meet his mouth in a slow, lingering kiss.

“Aww, my poor lamb,” Lucifer whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, “Outsmarted by a kitty cat~”

There was something in the way Lucifer said it, something in the way his lips lingered too long, too cold against Adam’s. The room felt colder, the air heavier, as if the darkness was seeping into the space between them. Adam’s heart fluttered uneasily, but he couldn’t quite place why. Still, the warmth of the blankets and Lucifer’s closeness lulled him back into the comforting arms of sleep, even as the shadows in the room seemed to stretch just a little further than they should.

Adam drifted back into the comforting haze of sleep, lulled by the familiar coldness of Lucifer's embrace. Hours passed like shadows creeping across the floor, and by the time the sun fully rose, casting soft golden light through the cracks in the curtains, the morning was greeted by the triumphant return of their elusive cat, Snowbell.

Adam was still waking up when Lucifer, ever alert, immediately scooped up the huge, fat, fluffy white cat as soon as he sauntered back into the flat. Snowbell purred loudly, his eyes half-lidded in contentment as Lucifer smothered him with affection, stroking his fur and cooing in that soft, lilting way he only did with the cat.

Adam couldn’t help but smile. It was impossible to stay mad at Snowbell—not when he was rubbing his fluffy face against Lucifer’s chest, soaking up the attention like a sponge. Lucifer, as always, looked perfect in the moment—his pale skin, contrasting starkly with the cat's snowy fur, made the scene even more adorable.

Adam instinctively reached for his phone, wanting to capture the sweet sight. But he paused, remembering Lucifer’s strict rule: no photographs. It had been one of the few conditions Lucifer insisted on when they first started dating. At first, Adam had taken it personally, thinking Lucifer might be embarrassed to be seen with him. But it hadn’t taken long for Adam to realize it wasn’t just about him—Lucifer avoided photos with everyone.

When Adam had introduced him to his best friend, Eve, she had immediately cooed over how adorable Lucifer was and begged to take a photo to show her friends. But Lucifer had shut that down with a polite, yet firm, "no." It was a pattern Adam noticed with everyone—whether friends, strangers, or even in public. Lucifer would quietly pull away from any interaction that involved cameras or photos.

Eventually, Adam had come to accept that Lucifer simply didn’t like having his picture taken. Even when Adam had been invited into Lucifer’s old Victorian house for the first time, he noticed there were no photographs—only oil paintings, rich with dark, brooding colours and shadows that seemed to shift under the dim light.

Still, as Adam watched Lucifer now, holding Snowbell and smiling softly as the cat purred, the scene was so heartwarming that Adam couldn’t resist speaking up.

"I wish I could photograph this moment," Adam said, his voice warm but tinged with a playful hint of longing.

Lucifer glanced up at him with a sweet smile, his blue eyes gleaming with that strange, otherworldly light they sometimes had.

"Don’t worry," Lucifer purred softly, "You’ll see this all the time once you’ve moved in with me."

Adam blushed, his heart doing that familiar flutter at Lucifer’s words. He couldn’t resist returning the smile as he moved closer, wrapping his arms around Lucifer’s slender middle from behind. The warmth of the morning sunbathed them both, though Lucifer's skin remained as cool as ever beneath Adam’s hands.

Both Lucifer and Snowbell leaned into him, enjoying the touch. Adam smiled down at the cat, reaching out to scratch behind Snowbell’s fluffy ear.

“And you," Adam scolded playfully, "You’re not allowed out for two weeks now. You little shit, slipping out like that."

Lucifer gasped theatrically, clutching Snowbell protectively.

“Surely that’s not enough, darling,” he cooed, planting a delicate kiss on the tip of Snowbell’s cool nose. “You won’t be allowed out for at least a month, though.”

Adam chuckled, resting his chin on Lucifer’s shoulder, his breath warm against Lucifer’s neck. "Isn't that a bit much? The vet said we only need to keep him in for two weeks."

Lucifer leaned back into Adam’s chest, a serene smile on his face as he tilted his head to nuzzle against Adam. “Adam, we're taking Snowbell to a new home—new surroundings. If we let him out too soon, he might try to find his way back to your old flat. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Adam exhaled softly, wrapping his arms more tightly around Lucifer and pressing his lips gently against the side of his boyfriend’s neck. He could feel the smoothness of Lucifer’s skin beneath his lips—oddly cool and, as always, devoid of a pulse. It was strange, but Adam had grown used to it by now, though the thought still flickered in his mind from time to time.

Lucifer moaned softly at the contact, his body swaying in sync with Adam's as they stood there, bathed in the early morning light. Snowbell meowed for more attention, his fluffy white tail swishing back and forth, clearly not satisfied with being left out.

"Alright, alright," Adam chuckled, scratching the cat again, his fingers sinking into Snowbell’s thick, luxurious fur. "But you're still not going outside for a while."

Lucifer smiled, tilting his head back to look at Adam with those luminous blue eyes.

"We’ll keep him safe," he whispered, his voice so soft, so reassuring.

And in that moment, with Lucifer in his arms and Snowbell purring contentedly between them, Adam felt an overwhelming sense of calm wash over him. For now, everything felt perfect—almost too perfect. But even as the warmth of the moment wrapped around him, there was that tiny, nagging chill at the back of his mind. Something about the stillness, the coldness that clung to Lucifer’s skin, lingered like an unspoken secret.

With the final box loaded into the moving van, Adam exhaled deeply, the weight of the moment settling in his chest. It was done—his flat was empty, their life was packed up, and they were finally leaving for the next chapter together. Nearby, Snowbell was locked in a cat carrier, resigned to his temporary fate, his fluffy white face pressed against the mesh with a look of begrudging acceptance. Lucifer cradled the carrier with an almost reverent care, a soft smile lighting up his pale features.

Adam turned to face Lucifer, feeling the familiar nervous flutter in his stomach. He smiled shyly, scratching the back of his neck as the air between them seemed to still, growing heavier with anticipation.

"So, um… you… are you, like, ready?" Adam asked, his voice wavering slightly. The uncertainty gnawed at him, though he couldn’t place exactly why.

Lucifer’s laugh was soft but full of warmth, and he stepped forward, stretching onto his tiptoes to press a delicate kiss against Adam’s lips. His coldness was always startling, but in that moment, it sent an electric thrill through Adam’s skin, a mix of excitement and something darker, a chill that lingered beneath the surface.

"If I wasn’t ready," Lucifer teased with a playful glint in his bright blue eyes, "you wouldn’t be here right now."

He studied Adam's face for a beat, his smile shifting into something more mischievous. "Are you getting nervous, Adam?"

Adam swallowed hard, feeling his heart hammering in his chest.

"Yeah… a little," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I’ve just… never had the best luck with… people."

Lucifer’s expression softened, the playfulness fading into something deeper. He reached up, cupping Adam’s face in his cool hands, his touch feather-light.

"Adam," he whispered, his voice laced with sincerity, "I love you. So much. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I’ll never do anything to harm you. You mean everything to me."

The intensity of Lucifer’s words hit Adam like a tidal wave, a surge of emotion flooding through him. It was the first time he’d ever heard Lucifer speak so earnestly, so raw and unguarded. For a moment, it felt like the whole world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them in the soft, creeping light of the morning.

Adam’s throat tightened, his heart pounding so loud he was sure Lucifer could hear it. He could barely find his voice, but when he did, it was a soft, fragile whisper. "I love you too. I really do. I’m sorry I never said it until last night, but… I do. I love you."

Lucifer's smile in that moment was so warm, so genuine, that it made Adam’s knees go weak. The look in his eyes was almost too tender, too perfect, like something from a dream.

"I know," Lucifer whispered, his voice soft as velvet, before leaning up to kiss Adam again.

Their lips met, and for a moment, the world was still. Lucifer’s coldness melted into Adam’s warmth, and everything else—his fears, his doubts, the creeping unease he sometimes felt—faded away. In that kiss, there was only love, a deep, all-consuming love that seemed to wrap around them both like an invisible thread, pulling them closer and closer.

As they pulled apart, the soft rustling of leaves in the distance and the gentle hum of the moving van were the only sounds that filled the air. Snowbell meowed quietly from his carrier, as if reminding them of his presence.

Lucifer chuckled, glancing down at the cat, then back at Adam with a smile.

"Come on, love," he said softly, taking Adam’s hand in his. "Let’s go home."

With that, they climbed into the van, the morning light casting long, eerie shadows behind them as they drove away from Adam’s flat, leaving behind the life they once knew for something new, something unknown—and, perhaps, something far more dangerous than Adam could have ever imagined.

As they pulled up to Lucifer's home, Adam couldn’t help but feel that same sense of awe that washed over him every time he saw it. The house loomed in front of them like something out of a dream—or perhaps, more accurately, a fairytale teetering on the edge of a nightmare. It was enormous, a towering Victorian behemoth painted a soft, dusky pink, with delicate white trim curling around every window, door, and turret. It felt alive, like the house had its own heartbeat, its own secrets lurking beneath the surface. The dark, intricate iron fencing surrounding the estate added a touch of eeriness, contrasting with the garden full of pale, moonlit roses and climbing vines.

The house stood there, still and watching, as if it was waiting for them. Adam always felt small in its shadow, a mere speck against its grandness, like he could get swallowed whole by it at any moment. The way the stained-glass windows caught the light and cast strange, twisted patterns on the ground made his skin prickle. And yet, there was an undeniable beauty to it. The kind of beauty that both enchanted and unsettled, much like the pink house in Coraline—vibrant, magical, and yet, carrying an undercurrent of danger.

Adam stood there, rooted to the spot for a moment, taking it all in, feeling the familiar mix of awe and apprehension tighten in his chest. The towering spires and intricate details always left him breathless, and as he looked up at the house.

He whispered, almost to himself, "I feel so small here…"

Lucifer, who had stepped out of the van and was now standing beside him, leaned into his side, his slender frame fitting perfectly against Adam’s broader build. He snuggled into Adam’s chest, his coldness a comforting contrast to the growing warmth of the day. Adam’s arm automatically wrapped around him, pulling him closer.

"Is this really your house?" Adam asked, his voice full of awe, as it always was when they arrived.

Lucifer laughed softly, his breath cool against Adam's skin.

"You ask that every time, love," he said, his tone teasing, but affectionate. He looked up at Adam with a grin, his bright blue eyes twinkling.

Adam blushed slightly, glancing down at Lucifer and rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I always have to check… it's just… it’s so… grand. Like something out of a storybook."

Lucifer’s smile softened, and he nuzzled his face against Adam’s chest, his sharp cheekbones brushing against Adam’s shirt. "Every time you ask, it’s always the same answer. Yes, Adam. It’s my house. It’s been my house for the past thirty years."

A soft hum of awe escaped from the back of Adam’s throat as he glanced back up at the towering structure. Thirty years. The thought of living in such a place for that long, and alone, filled him with a strange melancholy. But before he could dwell on it, Lucifer’s cool fingers cupped his cheeks, gently pulling his face down until their noses were almost touching.

"I know it’s pretty fancy," Lucifer whispered, his tone gentle, as though he understood exactly what Adam was thinking. He pressed his cool forehead to Adam’s, his lips brushing lightly against Adam’s jaw. "It’s a family house. It was passed down to me by my mother."

Adam blinked, nodding slowly, leaning into Lucifer’s touch. "I know… I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I don’t believe you.”

Lucifer shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"No, I’d be wary too," he replied, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along Adam’s skin. "The truth is, this house is all I have left from my family."

His voice lowered, a flicker of sadness darkening his bright eyes. "They died in an accident when I was little. This was the only thing left to me in their will. That… and a small trust fund."

Adam’s heart ached as he looked at Lucifer, the weight of his words sinking in. Without hesitation, he pulled Lucifer closer, wrapping his arms tightly around him and burying his face in Lucifer’s soft blonde hair. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Lucifer’s head, his fingers carding through the silky strands.

"I’m so sorry," Adam whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

Lucifer let out a soft breath, his body relaxing into Adam’s embrace.

"It’s okay," he murmured. "I’ve had time to… make peace with it. But…"

He hesitated, his voice dropping even lower as he pushed his face against Adam’s throat, breathing in his scent. "You’re the only person I’ve ever allowed into my home, Adam. That makes you special."

Adam’s arms tightened around him, pulling Lucifer even closer as a wave of warmth washed over him. He could feel the weight of those words settle deep in his chest, a warmth blooming that pushed back the coldness that always seemed to cling to Lucifer.

"The fact that I… that I want you to move in with me should also tell you just how important you are to me," Lucifer added, his voice barely a whisper now, as though the words themselves were too fragile to be spoken aloud.

Adam felt a lump form in his throat as he hugged Lucifer even tighter, pressing his lips to the side of Lucifer’s neck.

"You’re important to me too," he whispered back, his heart swelling with love. "More than you know."

As Adam stepped through the grand entrance of Lucifer’s house, a strange mix of awe and unease curled in his chest. The air inside was cool, almost unnaturally so, and the dim light from the towering windows cast long, eerie shadows across the floor. His emerald eyes widened as he took in the extravagant décor. It was like stepping into a scene from an old, haunting novel—the kind of house where the walls held whispered secrets. Everything was ornate, draped in rich velvets and dark woods that gleamed under the faint light. The grandeur was overwhelming, like it belonged to a family of ancient nobility, untouched by the modern world. Yet, it felt abandoned in a way, the house heavy with the absence of life.

No photographs adorned the walls, only large, imposing oil paintings of landscapes and faceless figures that seemed to watch them. It made sense to Adam—Lucifer had lost his family long ago. But it also left the place feeling… hollow, like a stage set, beautiful but empty of warmth.

Lucifer’s excitement was high as he grabbed Adam’s hand, his cold fingers pulling him eagerly through the winding halls. His voice was light, almost giddy, as he spoke, but there was something unnerving about the way their footsteps echoed, the creaks in the wood following them like a quiet, unseen audience.

“Come on! I have so much to show you!” Lucifer said, his bright blue eyes almost glowing with enthusiasm.

Adam tried to keep up, his eyes darting around the rooms they passed—each more beautiful, more decadent than the last. Lucifer’s house was a labyrinth of dark corners and grand spaces, but one thing caught Adam's attention. Every mirror they passed was draped with thick, heavy sheets. Dark, velvety cloths covered the reflective surfaces like mournful shrouds. He frowned, a chill running down his spine.

"Lucifer," Adam asked hesitantly, tugging lightly at his hand to slow him down. "Why are all the mirrors covered?"

Lucifer barely paused, waving the question away with a soft, almost dismissive laugh.

“Oh, I just don’t like looking at myself,” he said casually, though his tone held a hint of something darker.

Adam’s brow furrowed. "Why? You’re—"

He blushed, feeling suddenly shy, "You’re fucking gorgeous."

Lucifer stopped for a moment, a flush rising to his pale cheeks. He looked back at Adam with a soft, almost bashful smile, but there was something deeper in his gaze, something that lingered just beneath the surface.

"You’re far too sweet for this world," he murmured, before quickly pulling Adam into another room, avoiding the question entirely.

Before Adam could push further, Lucifer stopped in front of a large, intricately carved door and opened it with a flourish.

“And this,” he said, his voice brimming with warmth, “Is our room.”

Adam’s breath hitched at the words. "Our room?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer turned to him, his hands gently grasping Adam’s, holding them tightly. His smile was soft, filled with a tenderness that made Adam’s heart ache. "Yes, unless…" Lucifer’s eyes searched Adam’s face, "unless you don’t want to?"

Adam’s response was immediate, shaking his head fervently. "No! I want to. I really do." His voice was almost desperate, as if the thought of not sharing a room with Lucifer was unthinkable.

Lucifer laughed, a light, airy sound that filled the room. "Good. Because I really want to share it with you." He leaned in, kissing Adam softly, his cold lips sending a shiver down Adam’s spine.

Just then, a small, annoyed huff interrupted them. Adam glanced down to see Mister Snowbell, sitting at their feet, his fluffy white fur puffed up as he meowed in clear discontent. His blue eyes glared up at them, as if to say, This house is far too large for my liking.

"Aww, is it too big for you, Mister Snowbell?" Lucifer cooed, bending down to scoop the cat up into his arms. He cradled the fluffy creature close, pressing a kiss to his soft head. "Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the size eventually. You both will."

Adam’s heart skipped a beat at the way Lucifer’s gaze flicked up to him when he said those words. There was something in Lucifer’s tone, something almost possessive, but it made Adam’s pulse race in the best way. He smiled back, a warmth spreading through him as he reached out to scratch Snowbell behind the ear.

Later, as they settled into the enormous, old-fashioned four-poster bed, Adam felt like he was sinking into a cloud. The mattress was so soft, it nearly swallowed him whole, and the pillows—filled with duck feathers—were like little pockets of heaven. Thin curtains hung from the wooden posts, billowing softly with the breeze from the open window. At their feet, Mister Snowbell had already curled up, his purring a low, comforting hum that filled the quiet room.

Lucifer lay beside him, his head resting on one of the large pillows, his blonde hair fanning out like a halo. He smiled at Adam, his blue eyes soft in the dim light.

“I’m so happy you agreed to move in with me,” he said quietly, his voice tender.

Adam rolled over, his hand brushing gently along Lucifer’s cool, rosy cheek.

"I’m happy too," he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to Lucifer’s forehead.

Lucifer closed his eyes, letting out a soft purr of contentment.

"Say it again," he murmured, his voice almost pleading. "Say you love me."

Adam’s heart swelled, and he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over Lucifer’s ear as he whispered, "I love you."

Lucifer sighed, his hand coming up to touch Adam’s cheek, his fingers cold but gentle.

"I love you too," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

They kissed again, slow and sweet, before snuggling close beneath the heavy blankets. Adam was on the verge of sleep when Lucifer’s voice cut through the quiet, low and calm.

"Adam," he began, his voice almost a murmur, My house… it makes a lot of noises. And the way it’s designed…”

“You might see things, hear things that aren’t really there. Trick of the eye, trick of the ear…" His voice trailed off, almost as if he was hesitating to say more.

Adam, barely awake, only hummed in response, too tired to fully comprehend what Lucifer was saying.

"Okay," he mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed.

Lucifer watched him for a long moment, his gaze lingering on Adam’s peaceful face. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he slipped silently from the bed, the floorboards creaking softly beneath his feet as he disappeared into the shadows of the house.

Lucifer moved down the corridor in silence, his bare feet making no sound on the cold floor. The house itself seemed to hold its breath as he passed, the faintest creaks and groans of the old wood the only sign that it was alive at all. Adam, he knew, wouldn’t hear him. He never did. Adam was a heavy sleeper, wrapped in the embrace of his dreams upstairs, safe and blissfully unaware of the darker things that stirred below.

As Lucifer turned the corner, the grand staircase loomed ahead of him, spiraling down into the darker recesses of the house. His pale hand trailed lightly along the banister as he descended, each step careful and measured. Unbeknownst to him, Mister Snowbell followed at a distance, his white fur like a ghost in the dim light, the ribbon around his neck bouncing softly with every silent step. His tail swished lazily, a faint thrum of life in this quiet, suffocating house.

Lucifer reached the bottom of the stairs and moved to a small, almost unnoticeable door at the far end of the hall. He paused, glancing back briefly before pushing it open with ease. It revealed a hidden staircase leading even deeper into the house, the air growing colder, damper, as if the very walls were leeching the warmth from the world. Snowbell continued to follow, his feline curiosity drawing him down into the depths.

At the end of the descent, Lucifer reached a dimly lit basement. A dank, foreboding space where the shadows seemed thicker, more oppressive. In the centre of the room was a basket—a large, wrought-iron cage—and inside it, bound and gagged, was his latest victim. A mortal, trembling and wide-eyed, struggling weakly against the restraints.

Lucifer’s gaze locked onto the human, and as always, the guilt began to gnaw at him. He hated this part. The endless hunger, the constant need to feed. He hadn't wanted it to come to this, not again, but his options were running out. The police had been closing in on the bodies he’d left in the park. He had to move his feeding grounds, had to cover his tracks. This house, however, would offer no such leads. Not down here, hidden from the prying eyes of the world above.

Slowly, he approached the cage, his blue eyes darkening with a mixture of hunger and regret. He crouched in front of the bound human, watching as they trembled, their eyes widening further in sheer terror. Lucifer sighed softly, whispering more to himself than to the victim.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice low and haunted. "I don’t want to do this. I don’t want any of it. But I have to. I need to feed. I have to stay in control."

His hand reached through the bars, brushing against the mortal’s cheek, and they flinched, tears welling in their eyes.

Lucifer’s expression softened, though his heart remained heavy.

"It’s nothing personal," he continued, his tone eerily calm. "I’m just... so hungry."

His fingers lingered over his chest, tapping lightly where his heart should be, where the dark hunger coiled.

"The thing about my kind, about us vampires… the more we care for someone, the more we love them, the harder it is. Once a connection is made, once something sparks in here—" he pressed his hand firmly against his chest, "—the hunger grows."

His eyes darkened, turning from blue to a deep, almost glowing red. "I crave it. I crave him. I want to taste Adam’s blood, to have him fully, to revel in him. But I can’t… I won’t. I can’t stand the thought of him dying because of me, because I couldn’t control myself."

He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper now. "I need him. More than anything. I need him to love me, to want me, to stay with me. I can’t lose him… not like I lost everything else."

Lucifer's lips parted, revealing the sharp, glistening points of his fangs, his eyes fixated on the mortal’s neck. His hunger surged forward, the thirst overpowering the remnants of his guilt.

"Which means," he breathed, his cold breath washing over the terrified human, "I need to feed. More than usual."

Without another word, Lucifer’s teeth sank into the human’s throat, the rush of blood flooding his senses. The warm, metallic taste filled him, a heady mix of power and satisfaction. He drank deeply, his body trembling with the intensity of it, draining the victim completely until the body slumped lifeless in the cage.

Lucifer pulled away, blood staining his lips and chin, his chest heaving as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The guilt returned, heavier now, but the hunger had been sated—at least for a time. He straightened himself, staring down at the drained body with a deep sigh.

But just as he was about to turn away, he felt something warm brush against his ankles. Startled, he looked down, only to find Mister Snowbell weaving between his legs, the cat’s long, white tail flicking against him in gentle strokes. The sight brought an unexpected smile to Lucifer’s blood-stained lips.

"Sneaky little thing, aren’t you?" he whispered, bending down to scoop Snowbell into his arms. The cat meowed softly, nuzzling his face into Lucifer’s chest as if the dark deeds in the room mattered not at all.

Lucifer chuckled softly, pressing his forehead against the cat’s fluffy head. "Did you follow me all the way down here, little shadow?" Snowbell responded with another soft meow, his ribbon bouncing as he moved. Lucifer giggled and cradled the cat closer, feeling the warmth of his tiny body against his cold skin.

"Well, at least one of us still has warmth left," he whispered, his gaze drifting back to the lifeless body in the corner. Snowbell purred, unaware, as Lucifer carried him back up the stairs, leaving the darkness behind for now, but knowing it would always follow him.

Lucifer ascended the stairs with Snowbell cradled in his arms, the fat cat purring softly, blissfully unaware of the heavy, dark atmosphere that seemed to cling to the air. The house groaned around him, old wood shifting like something breathing beneath the surface. As he walked, the faint echoes of ghostly moans began to trail behind him, soft at first, like whispers carried on a cold breeze, but then growing louder, more distinct—restless voices filled with sorrow and pain. The trapped spirits, their ethereal forms flitting just out of sight, haunted the shadows of the grand hallways.

Snowbell stirred, his green eyes wide as they followed the translucent shapes that flickered past. His whiskers twitched, and he let out a low, confused meow as if he sensed the spirits were near, even if he couldn’t fully understand them. One particularly mournful figure, barely visible, drifted across the stairwell, its hollow eyes fixed on Lucifer with a mixture of longing and despair.

Lucifer tightened his hold on Snowbell, stroking the cat’s soft fur as if the motion alone could keep the darkness at bay.

"Ignore them," he whispered, his voice tender as he spoke to the cat, though his eyes were sharp, watching the restless ghost as it passed them. "They're just... wandering."

Snowbell tried to look again, his chubby body squirming slightly in Lucifer's arms, but Lucifer gently cupped the cat’s face, guiding his gaze away from the spirit.

"Don't mind them, little one," he cooed, pressing his lips to Snowbell’s fur in an almost absentminded kiss. "They always wander like this. It’s nothing to worry about."

His blue eyes, now settled into their usual cool, icy hue, trailed after the ghost with a deep frown. The figure disappeared into the wall, its soft sobbing growing distant, blending into the old creaks of the house.

"They always do," Lucifer murmured to himself, more sombre now.

He sighed, the weight of the souls he had fed on over the years settling heavily in his chest. Adam had changed everything. Since meeting him, Lucifer's hunger had grown insatiable. His need to consume was not just to survive, but to stave off the maddening desire that came with his love for Adam. More blood, more victims... and more spirits bound to the walls of his house. They lingered here, drawn to the place of their demise, unable to pass on, unable to find peace.

"I’ve had to feed so much more since I met Adam," Lucifer admitted softly, stroking Snowbell’s fur as if the cat could understand.

Snowbell purred in response, content in his arms. Lucifer's lips twisted into a slight grimace, watching as another spirit hovered at the edge of the hallway, its face distorted in a silent scream before fading into the shadows.

"Which means," Lucifer continued, his voice taking on a distant tone, "there are more of them now. More souls... trapped inside my house."

He paused at the top of the stairs, looking down the long corridor that stretched into the darkness. It felt like the house itself was watching him, the spirits murmuring and shifting in the walls, their presence a constant reminder of the things he had done.

"But they’ll fade away in time," he whispered, more to himself than to Snowbell, his gaze distant.

He knew the truth—spirits, like memories, would eventually blur, becoming indistinct over time. And then they would be gone, lost to the void. But for now, they remained, tethered to this place by his own hand.

Snowbell meowed softly again, breaking Lucifer from his thoughts. He smiled faintly, brushing his thumb over the ribbon tied around the cat’s neck.

"You don’t mind the ghosts, do you?" he asked, his voice lightening as he looked down at the fluffy creature. "No, of course you don’t. You’re not afraid of anything."

The house groaned once more, a long, deep sound that seemed to come from somewhere far below, as if the very foundation of the place was shifting under the weight of the souls it held. But Lucifer, unfazed, simply turned and continued down the corridor, Snowbell tucked safely in his arms.

Whatever darkness lingered in the shadows of his home, whatever restless souls cried out from the walls, none of it mattered now. Not when Adam was upstairs, safe in their bed. Lucifer smiled to himself, the thought of Adam's warmth filling him with a brief moment of solace. As long as Adam never knew the true cost of his love, everything would be fine. The spirits could moan, the house could creak, and Lucifer would carry on.

For Adam, he would do anything—even this.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

HELLO hi im new here but. the. the concept of combining prompt number 11 with the idea of Furina having the hiccups and desperately trying to cover it up has me losing my MIND

“You’re so red, are you okay?”

Characters: Furina x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: Sorry it took me so long, I'm currently trying to get out of a writers block I've had for the past few weeks, so there might be a few more uploads in the next few days or nothing once again.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Furina

Today was supposed to be the day, everything down to the most minute detail planned out long before you even received the invitation. From the decorations of the room, the food and drinks Furina had asked her chef to prepare and her outfit, to the conversation topics she picked out specifically to impress you, having done her share of all-nighters filled with enough research to write a whole book about each and every one of them.

So when she started hiccuping only a few minutes into your little tea party, having answered one of your questions too eagerly while still having remnants of a small piece of cake in her mouth, the Archon wasn’t sure if she felt like screaming her frustrations out of the window or wanted to disintegrated into a puddle of water, yet, stuck with neither option, all that was left for her to do was try and keep shut until it finally stopped and draw as little attention to it as humanly- well… archonly possible.

If you had been paying any less attention to how great the food and drinks were and took a closer look at the person sitting opposite of you, you might have easily noticed how nervous she seemed all of a sudden, the sound of her voice talking about whatever subject you touched on growing much rarer. And yet, you chalked it up to her simply enjoying her food as well, not paying any mind to it before digging into the cake in front of you once again.

Or at least you were until the silence that had engulfed the room was suddenly interrupted by a… weird sound, there one moment before being gone almost instantly, only to pop up again and again, slowly drawing your attention to Furina as a curious look made its way onto your face.

“Did you hear that as well?”, you asked, expecting the Archon to give her usual confident sounding answer, one that would seem far-fetched but somewhat realistic enough to explain it all. Only for her to greet your question by visibly shrinking into her seat, embarrassment washing over her face as her cheeks grew redder and redder with each inch she shrank, before suddenly jerking her shoulders up for a split second as the same sound rang out through the room once more.

“N-no…?”, Furina managed to respond eventually, her answer sounding almost more like a question than yours while failing to look you in the eyes for even a second.

Once again silence swept over the room, neither of you daring to speak up again for a few seconds causing the sporadic sounds to be even more noticeable and considering how Furina tried covering her mouth and how the sudden jerks of her chest matched the times the sound appeared you slowly got an idea what you were dealing with. However, theory could only take you so far, and so you decided to test your hypothesis almost instantly.

“You’re so red, are you okay?” The moment you rose from your seat and leaned over the table, moving closer to Furina before almost pressing the back of your hand against her forehead, only for her to almost jump up from her seat, dodging your hand as if her life depended on it.

“What are you doing- DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!”, she practically screamed at you, causing you to stop in your tracks, her face somehow growing even redder than before as a feeling of shame washed over her.

“Is it gone now?”, you eventually asked, the crypticness of your question being obvious by the puzzled look you received at first, only for the lack of Furina’s hiccups to quickly dawn on her, causing a relieved look to sweep over her face… one that got quickly replaced by one of panic as she realized it meant all her attempts to hide it were futile.

“So you noticed…”, Furina stated, her nervousness causing her words to come out an octave higher.

“Noticed what?”, you played dumb, tilting your head ever so slightly before finally sitting down once again, the confusion on your Archon’s face quickly being washed away as a small expression of gratitude peaked its head.

“Do you wish for another cup of tea?”, Furina finally returned to her previous tone, both of you deciding to ignore that little incident and simply enjoy the rest of your time together.

[weepinwriter]

ZHENYA ‘PSIKH’ BOGDANOV

(pardon the terrible lighting 😔)

Codename : Nyx, named after the primordial greek goddess of the night (yeah it's a feminine name, but does Zhenya give a damn? Hell no)

Nickname : His friends and family members know him simply as Zhen, otherwise in the underworld he is better known as Psikh Bogdanov, or the madman as some prefer to call him for simplicity

[ 20 || 6'1" || cis-male || demisexual || in a relationship with Ash and Rin ]

Appearance : Short midnight black hair, and emerald green eyes

His stats

(dudes here ready to go full on doomslayer on his enemies)

Some facts about him:

~ He likes smoking, and that too the best quality cigars

~ As a child Zhenya wanted to be a writer, maybe even a journalist. He liked journaling his days as a kid, writing small stories and frequently narrating details of his day with his father, uncle and Ash before the incident with his dad, following which he discontinued writing indefinitely. He never touched his little journal after that.

~ Once had a bucket list containing all the things he wanted to do as a kid. These included bungee jumping, going to the seven wonders of the world and hell, even riding an ostrich (overall he just wanted to do every crazy thing one can possibly do). One of the wishes in this list included going to Disneyland with his dad. Unfortunately it never happened and he refused to ever go there

~ is very fond of daffodils. Ash regularly buys daffodils to be put in a vase in the middle of the room where he can see them

~ he is very fond of Donna tartt's books, especially the secret history

~ during his (cringe) puberty phase, when emotions and hormones run high and teenagers become the biggest menaces alive, Zhenya had the misfortune of stumbling upon Twilight. Following that fateful encounter he became a hardcore Twilight fan, especially as a firm member Team Jacob. He even went as far as to get a wolf tattoo and got his ears pierced as a form of his teenage rebellion. Thankfully he got over his cringe phase quickly, and now everytime he thinks about it he can't help but feel embarrassed to the core. (I can say this with a guarantee that Rin tries to pull his leg every once in a while by mentioning his horrific past, just for the sake of seeing Zhenya blush furiously.)

~ also likes reading books and historical research papers on medieval punishments and torture methods, for science ofcourse he says

~ is a pretty decent cook

~ although he can only cook dishes related to chicken, Zhenya is experienced enough to debone a raw chicken blindfolded holding some of the sharpest knives ever. The countless scars on his hands and arms are a testament of his perseverance. Apparently he's ‘practising’...

~ “a balanced diet is very important.” also him, proceeds to carefully remove all the peas from his food

~ has never lost a single match of rock-paper-scissors, even against Rin. However, one cannot say the same for his terrible luck and history with UNO. My guy here can get almost all the power cards at the beginning of the game, yet somehow always manages to lose them all and be defeated brutally. It has come to the point some believe he's intentionally losing, he's not.

~ likes watching and listening to true crime podcasts

~ Zhenya has a very bad habit of smiling whenever he's lying, making it impossible for anyone to figure out when he's lying or not (except those close to him who can see the discrepancies between his real and fake smiles)

~ can hold his liquor very well. The most he can go with, is 23 shots, which is his highest record so far, until he eventually passes and wakes up to the absolute worst hangover of his life

~ will call you a moron if you were to ask him the classic “would you still love me if I was a worm?” but still answer with a yes

~ sorry no Pixie cameo this time 😔, on another note, Zhenya actually adopted Pixie from the streets when he accidentally stepped on her on his way home. Feeling guilty he brought her home and the kitten that was barely a month old became a part of his small family. Now refuses to let anyone even touch her without his permission, talk about being overprotective

MIKHAIL 'MICKI' VICTOROVICH LANG

(this is @headdaze's MC, btw all comments are made by them-)

Codename : Tisiphone (he’d probably get a kick out of the nicknames he could make– like he picks up the phone and goes “hello? This is tisiphone answeirng the phone at avengers speed-” OR EVEN BETTER “hello? Tis me, tisiphone–”)

Nickname : His close ones simply call him, Angel, meanwhile the rest just go along with Micki

[ 20 || 5'5" || agender, he/they || demisexual || working on getting Ash, will work on Rin (when they meet each other as adults which they haven’t yet LOLOLOL)]

Appearance : Slightly long brown hair, with grayish, green blue eyes

Some facts about them

~ after destroying a microwave, ruining a meal, burning a few items, and other travesties, micki resigned himself to simple dishes… no five star courses (later on Zhenya takes it upon himself to cook for Mikhail, after keeping him 6feet away from the kitchen ofcourse)

~ loves nothing more than a good book and as such gets heavily irritated when something good disappoints them

~ very pro-healthy food but still eats unhealthy

~ vision is ABSOLUTE SHIT, wears either ridiculously thick glasses or contacts

~ usually sweet but can have a scary side too (people like to call him the wolf in sheep’s clothing)

~ his dream is to go around the world, eat the things he wants, and buy the things he wants without feeling guilty about spending money

~ a MASSIVE penny pincher

~ “ZHEN CAN YOU PLEASE STOP RUINIG YOUR LUNGS WITH THOSE FUCKING BEAUTIFUL CIGARS” “No.”

~ comfy > fashion, the man is not going to strut outside on a winter day in an outfit even if he looks good in it because if it gets him a cold it is GAME OVER

~ literally cannot stay up for the life of them, alwAYS gets irritable when sleepy so prefers to get their hours of sleep in

(why is a majority of this basically just me)

IF : VENDETTA BY @vendetta-if