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You feel a lot like love

summary: lovesick boys & living in their head rent-free... you have no idea what you do to them, or maybe you do. ft.Riddle, Leona, Azul, (Vil, Idia, and more later if this does well) tags: crushing, pre-established relationship & established relationship, off camera date/confessions, GN reader(you/your), lovesick boys 4 u, marriage mention, Azul gets insecure but the thought of you makes it better, no beta we overblot like men

wordcount: 1200+ | Masterlist & Taglist

• Riddle Roshearts

“Attention!” Riddle’s head snapped upwards, unaware that he had zoned out; thankfully so was the professor, who was calling out some other unfortunate student. As the red haired dormwarden went through the stages of shock, simply stunned and unable to process the realisation that he was not paying attention in class. However he quickly enough settled back into the regular plane of consciousness, taking note of his surroundings and re-checking his notes, eyes widening when he spots “[Name] Rosehearts”. Oh. Riddle gulped a silent, empty breath, staring at the string of words for what felt like the longest two seconds of his life. Oh, oh how was he supposed to confess to you? As his thoughts once again abandoned the class, deciding that you have become his favourite subject, Riddle silently agreed with his subconscious to give up on paying attention in class for one day; instead focusing on you. The smitten, heart adorned dormwarden slipped out a red notebook, a journal, opening an empty page, he started to write his heart and see if he could come up with a good confession, a well-phrased way to ask you out. He could beg his beating heart to stop running laps in his ribcage, yet his mind could not be further from it as he thought of you, his other half. The dorm of heartslabyul has never known greater paranoia. Ace was fully abiding by the rules, Cater has never been faster, Trey was mentally going through the list of possible scenarios. Why? It was quiet. Too quiet. Riddle was not around, he had ghosted Trey and Cater- even after they tried to report on rule breakers; something was clearly wrong, or at least upside down and slightly to the left. Deuce was studying diligently and holding his breath, almost as if Riddle was peering over his shoulder, hell that would at least prove the dormwarden was there! This, to the heartslabyul dorm, was the cruellest joke on earth. And then Riddle came back to the dorm, for the first time ever dressed in a more.. casual look. No way in hell was on campus, judging by the soft red cardigan and absence of the NRC uniform jacket, the button up replaced by a regular black shirt with a loose, circle collar that allowed his collarbone and neck to breathe. If anyone was to be honest, this did not look like Riddle at first glance. And then at second glance all hell silently broke loose, Trey’s glasses comically cracked, Cater dropped his phone, Deuce aced a test; Riddle was placing a kiss on your wrist, leading you slowly by the arm like a gentleman. He was on a date. Unmistakably so if the red roses you held as a bouquet were anything to go by. And once again, Riddle could not care or even try to pay attention to his surroundings; as if he would want to look elsewhere while he had you to focus on.

• Leona Kingscholar

“Wakey wa– Oh fuck n-o, never mind.” Ruggie closed the door back before he even properly opened it. Leona barely huffed, rolling over to better cover your body with his; like a weighted blanket, the rumbling in his chest far too relaxing for you to stir awake. ..And yet, he couldn’t fall back asleep. Far too awake to keep his eyes closed, yet not enough to get out of bed; alone with his thoughts as he idly held your sleeping form. Sometimes he wondered if these types of mornings would end, or if he could wake up with you for the rest of his days, and he wishes he could smack himself upside down on the head for these loud what-ifs. As if he could sleep it off, feelings like these never really worked like that; it only used to make him angry, frustrated and madly irritable in the past, but now he felt scared at the possibilities those thoughts encapsulated. The ones that were possible were worse, making him wish. Wish.. it felt ridiculous to say such a word for someone so seemingly void of even the faintest hint of sunshine, Leona was not cheerful, surely not. But he was hopeful, then not; it stayed like that for a long while, until you decided to take these matters into your own hands, your considerably smaller, slender hands, soft compared to his own. He, unaware of his own, took your hands in his idle ones, feeling your palms and fingers. Leona closed his eyes as he nuzzled onto the crown of your head, comforted by the scent of your hair. In the back of his mind, his hands memorised the feel of your fingers, wondering what kind of ring you’d like best. The grumpy lion beastman mentally laughed as his morning pondering comes full circle, thinking about how you had his heart in your gentle hands.He smiled at the thought. He could be hopeful.

• Azul Ashengrotto “Takoyaki!-” Azul’s eyes widened, looking at the idle pool of ink at the base of his quill. He clicked his tongue, expression shaping up to one of frustration, and near-disgust. Lifting up his hand, he made sure that the sleeves of his uniform were not ruined, carefully taking off the stained glove and leaving the office in oddly collected fashion. The feeling was.. off, making Floyd look down to try seeing his expression, albeit unsuccessful. Azul knew the eel twin would quickly put it together, putting more effort into his steps, walking faster with hopes of not running into you. He would cry if you discovered the power you held over him and his heart. The mere possibility had him gulp in hopes of swallowing his nerves, twisting the doorknob and locking himself in his room as the ever familiar and forever disgusting feeling of tears stung his eyes once again, and Azul half haphazardly hid himself under his blankets, ignoring all noise, blocking out his own thoughts, or at least trying to. And yet, the image of you in his mind is the exact thing that brings him comfort; he lays wondering what you’d think if he made a fool of himself in front of you, only to feel conflicted when he fails to imagine a negative reaction, he knows you wouldn’t berate him for a slip up. You never even call him out when he acts out of character, going as far as to cover up for him when he messes up big time, and you never ask for anything other than his time for it when you do. “Fair enough”, it was his response the first time, now he finds himself internally craving, damn-near begging for more; haa.. He would laugh had it been anyone else’s suffering, but he’s not sure if he can even feign dislike of the situation, only ever hoping for more chances to keep this silent arrangement going. He has always been quite greedy, capitalising your affection, time, attention. And forever caught off guard by you, it seems. He nearly jumps out of his own skin when his phone notifies him with a custom ring-tone, the one he set for you. Scrambling to grab his phone swiftly and reply fast, all he sees is “I’m going over to your dorm room. Floyd said something was up with you, are you ok?” -And before he can even start typing you send another; “I’m bringing some of your favourites do you want anything” Oh you really are simply wonderful. Azul knows he means every word, replying to your messages “Just you”.

╰┈➤ Before Constellations, There Were Chains

➜ Synopsis: You thought you would be fated to die alone thanks to your mother's actions. But in the eyes of someone else, you didn't deserve it.

➜ Pairings: Perseus!Yoichi Isagi x fem!Andromeda!reader

➜ This Fic Contains the Following: Reader is the daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia, reader is not having a good time thanks to mother's actions lol, nudity (not sexual), marriage proposal, author's first Blue Lock fic, potential word vomit, angst with a happy ending

➜ WC: 1,370

➜ Note: my second part of the Touch of Divine Rush collab! thanks again to @dark-mnjiro for letting me participate! i had so much fun writing both of my pieces 🙏🏽💕! man i hope isagi is not ooc in this haha

This wasn't your fault.

This wasn't your fault.

This wasn't your fault.

That was the sentence you kept repeating in your head as you were stuck on this strange and vast land with weather that was much too cold for your liking. As the wind raged on, you could only wish that you were able to turn back time to where everything was fine and you were much happier in your life. But now?

You were completely and utterly miserable having wondered what you had done to deserve such a horrific fate. 

Oh wait, now that you thought about it, there was one person to blame for this mess that transpired. 

Cassiopeia, also known as your mother. 

Unlike you, Cassiopeia was much known for running her mouth and boasting about her beauty and yours. While it always flattered you, it was never a good idea for a mortal to boast that their beauty was far greater than a god's. Such an act was considered blasphemy to many, especially to the gods. And little did you know, an act like that was going to hurt you greatly later on. 

And bring you a savior that you never expected. 

How did this all happen? Let’s go back to where it all began…

“You are to be put as a sacrifice for the kingdom.” You remembered hearing your father say to you, you also remembered the look of horror you made when he dropped the ball on you. You also remembered that you froze, at a loss from what you were told.

“But father, why?” You stammered out, unable to comprehend why he would come to such a conclusion. Your mother said nothing to you, she didn’t even have the courtesy to look your way as you looked hers for help and hoped that your father just went mad, or was jesting at the very least. But no, not even a glance at you. You noted the slight shake in her hands. 

Cepheus only gave you a dejected look in return as he continued on, “I had spoken with Zeus, in order to keep our home from being lost, only you would save us all. As our sacrifice,” he then pulled you close to him in a hug, as if that was enough to comfort you. “Because of your mother’s actions, this is the only way we can be free of that brute’s wrath on us.”

This time, your mother had the audacity to look your way. But not at you, but at your father with an angry glare. Almost like this whole ordeal wasn’t her fault, but it was. Because of her, the Nereids of the sea were angry and complained to Poseidon, the god of the sea. Unfortunately for you and the rest of the kingdom, Poseidon decided to appease to the sea nymphs by unleashing a sea monster named Cetus onto your people out of anger. Desperate to stop the eventual destruction of the kingdom, Cepheus pleaded to Zeus for any solution and said god recommended that you be put as a sacrifice for the beast and also as a way for Cassiopeia, to atone for her crime against the gods, of which you had absolutely no part in. This was the only way for the beast to leave the kingdom in peace.

Which led you to your current predicament now, chained to the rocks on the shores of Jaffa with barely any way for you to move without feeling discomfort or pain, and the worst part was you were fully in the nude, as if it was all the more to humiliate you while leaving you to your doom. You were also shivering thanks to the strong winds that blew towards and around you along with waves that would splash you every now and then, which made your shivering worse. You were miserable. 

You began to cry, despite already crying earlier, still feeling the tear tracks thanks to the windy weather. You already cried earlier before as you were abandoned by your parents and everyone you loved… So what good was more crying going to do for you? You didn’t know and you couldn’t help it either. 

It was getting harder to see or breathe thanks to your tears and the sobs you let out as you once again attempted to wriggle your wrists around to free yourself.

Again, it was all futile. You sighed in defeat as you awaited your fate, for that horrendous sea monster to ravage you as part of his lunch. It was a pity that you never got to live your life as you wanted to, that the book of your life was gonna end abruptly with torn off pages or an unfinished sentence.

As you looked down at the raging waves in bitter resentment towards your mother for causing this mess and to your father for letting you go so easily, you weren’t expecting to hear someone calling out to you.

As you looked up to see who it could be, you locked eyes with a young man who wore a concerned expression on his face. Oddly enough, he wasn’t sailing through the sea as one would usually do, he was on a winged horse. He looked well built and strong, with dark blue hair and deep blue eyes that lit up with curiosity at the sight of you. 

“Are you alright? What happened to you?” He had asked the first question once again.

You were shocked that someone actually seemed concerned for you at this time, but you at least found it in yourself to answer: “I’m not alright, I was abandoned here…” you trailed off.

This time, the man was in disbelief, “Why?’ He asked.

“Sacrifice. Because of my mother’s boastfulness, I have to suffer the consequences for something that I had no part in. I am to be a sacrifice for a sea monster,” you answered.

He couldn’t respond at first, he seemed to be in deep pondering as to why you were left alone over someone else’s mistake. This whole mess wasn’t your fault at all, you weren’t to blame for anything. But in a way, maybe it was for the better that you were here alone.

Because he never imagined, not even in his wildest dreams, that he would meet someone as beautiful as you. This must be fate, as funny as that theory sounded. He now knew what he had to do to make things right.

You were confused by the determined expression he wore as he asked for your name. After you answered, he declared, “My name is Yoichi, my fair maiden. I am going to save you, you will no longer be some beast’s meal.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked, “But what about Poseidon?’

“Poseidon be damned,” he responded. This made your heart skip a beat at his words.

And so, true to his word, the man you now knew as Yoichi was true to his word and slayed the beast known as Cetus. What disgusted the hero was that said beast had the audacity to lick his lips at the sight of your figure, but that didn’t last long as he was now dead and sleeping with the fishes. 

At first you had doubts that he would rescue you, but Yoichi returning to you after his battle squashed those doubts into nothing. As he freed you and you held onto him as he flew you home with Pegasus, you knew that you would be alright in his hands as a small smile grew onto your face. 

As you were reunited with your parents, Yoichi then asked your father for your hand in marriage. And you were okay with this proposal, he was your savior and rescued you from a tragic end. How could you refuse him? At your insistence, you two were wedded not long after. After you passed on, the goddess Athena placed an image of you amongst the stars along with your husband.

As for your mother, her constellation still faced repercussions even centuries later, close to the North Star and never below the horizon. Hanging from her throne and never to bathe below the horizon for her hubris.

— imagine being loved by me! ⟢

pairing: xiao | alatus x reader

summary: the one where your best friend gives you ten tattoos over the next ten years. the problem? you fall deeper in love each time the ink stains your skin.

word count: 7.1k words

tags: modern au, tattoo artist!xiao, childhood friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, relationship study, non-explicit smut

warnings: emotionally stunted xiao but i fink everyone knows that already, mentions of needles, there's smut but it isn't detailed

notes: this blog's been dead for Months but i thought i'd revive it with this fic that my beloved @delvalentine commissioned me to make! i love u to DEATH, v, i hope i did your requests justice :')

header art cr: yuca7302 on twt

01.

“Ow, fuck! Can you be more careful?!”

“I am careful. You just have a shitty pain tolerance.”

“Wow, that’s not something you should say to your first willing client,” you huff, trying not to pull away as Xiao repeatedly punctures the skin of your forearm with pen ink and a not-so-sterile sewing needle. “My family could sue you if I die from a blood infection, you know.”

Xiao rolls his eyes. “Something this small won’t kill anyone. Plus, you came here on your own volition, so stop complaining.”

“Are you saying you’re just going to let me die of sepsis if everything goes to shit?”

“Pretty much.”

You didn’t know what to expect when your best friend of several years asked if you wanted a tattoo of your favorite constellation. It’s been a running joke between the both of you that the two moles on your forearm looked a lot like two-thirds of Orion’s belt, and that maybe, in another life, you would’ve been born with all three of its stars on your skin. 

You should’ve known that Xiao likes to blow your expectations out of the water—whether he intends to do so or not.

It’s sundown when he finishes embedding black pen ink beneath your slightly inflamed skin. Xiao doesn’t comment when you repeatedly complain about how much that fucking hurt, and that you’re never agreeing to do it again, but you don’t miss the way his eyes occasionally flit up to the starry sky before shifting to your new ‘tattoo’ as he walks you home.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget that night. How you admired the amateur handiwork in the soft glow of your nightlight while thinking about the boy who gave you a star fashioned with his own fingers where others would’ve given flowers instead.

But then you remember Xiao is nothing but your best friend, and it’s a little…weird to be thinking about him like that. 

Must be the sepsis fucking with my head, you muse before flicking off your nightlight, and the room is plunged into pitch black darkness. 

02. 

You’re eighteen when you realize Xiao is completely serious about this tattooing business.

It comes as a not-so-pleasant surprise to you one day when your high school’s guidance counselor approaches you while you’re hurrying over to your next class—asking if you’ve seen Xiao around these days because apparently, your best friend hasn’t been attending his classes for a better part of the semester. 

Of course, you receive the news with a scowl. While you don’t exactly see him all that much at school because of how different your schedules are, you never expected to find out he’s been playing hooky all this time. 

You don’t particularly like sticking your nose into other people’s business—especially not Xiao’s, since you know how he likes to keep to himself better than most. But for some reason, you aren’t able to resist, and end up calling him after excusing yourself from your two-hour Biology lecture. 

Once your classes are done, you head over to a nearby tattoo parlor whose address Xiao texted to you right after you squeezed his whereabouts out of him during that phone call. It’s located in one of the more run-down parts of town that your parents would’ve detested Xiao for inviting you to. But whatever prejudice you might’ve had about the denizens of this district all go up in smoke once you meet the owner herself.

“You should’a seen Xiao practicing with our machines a few months ago!” Beidou, as Xiao had sheepishly introduced earlier, barks out a laugh before slinging an arm around your best friend’s shoulders. “Said there’s someone he wanted to give permanent tatts to. I’m guessing you’re the guest of honor?”

“Beidou,” Xiao groans. “It’s not a big deal. I already practiced on her before.”

You don’t completely catch it when Beidou makes an inappropriate joke as a response to what Xiao just said—eyes trained on the fading dot on your forearm. It’s been two years since Xiao gave you your first ‘tattoo’, and even if the receding ink makes it look like one of Orion’s stars are starting to die out, it’s still there.

“Okay,” you say in the middle of their bickering, startling both Xiao and Beidou in the process. “I’ll let him ink me if he wants to.”

Xiao stares at you with brows furrowed. “You sure?”

No, you’re not sure because as much as you want to support Xiao in what seems to be a budding passion of his, you’re certain that your father is going to kill you when he sees a full-blown tattoo on any part of your body. You barely got away with the artificial mole that Xiao did for you a few years back.

“Positive.” You back your words up with an indignant huff before sifting through the pre-made designs on Beidou’s catalog. “You just have to put it somewhere not everyone can see, I guess.”

Beidou snorts out another jarring laugh when Xiao clicks his tongue to alleviate the embarrassment that’s painting his face just a touch of red. 

Earlier in the day, you intended to scold your best friend for not taking his studies seriously, but ended up going home that day with a new piece inked onto the skin of your left hip: a little spruce twig that you last remember seeing in your old hometown—years before you even met Xiao. 

There’s no particular meaning behind it, apart from a hint of sentimentality and rebelliousness. It’s your first actual tattoo, and one of your best friends gave it to you, free of charge. Even if it hurts ten times more than Xiao’s novice needle method from two years ago, you end up loving it more than you thought. One time, you stare at Xiao’s intricate handiwork in the mirror for so long that you nearly run late for your first class of the day. 

(Another thing that makes this particular piece memorable is the process itself.

Xiao is a person who’s always been startlingly precise in everything he decides to put his head into. When you learned that he wanted to become a tattoo artist, you instantly felt like there’s no other path more perfect for him than this.

Yet you couldn’t help but notice how his fingers sometimes trembled as he gave you your first piece—with you lying chest-down on Beidou’s tattoo chair in nothing but your shirt and underwear. It shouldn’t have been strange. Xiao has seen you dressed down like this dozens of times before. 

But when all’s said and done, he refused to meet your eyes, and you don’t have the slightest clue why.)

03.

You just can’t stop staring when you see Xiao’s half-sleeve for the first time.

It’s meant to be a phoenix, he said, but you can’t really see it because the patterns are too abstract to make sense of. Still, the azure ink sits nicely on top of his built bicep, and you have to tell yourself that you’re just trying to find the stupid phoenix as an excuse to keep ogling him.

Thankfully, your weird fascination lasts for only about a week until you’re back to shitting on him like you always do. 

By some miracle, Xiao manages to graduate high school despite being on probation from his excessive absences. He’s actually smart if he makes the effort to hit the books, but you’re not sure if he’s planning on going to college with how comfortable he is with being one of Beidou’s most in-demand tattoo artists. 

You ask him about his future plans at a party being thrown by the previous captain of the football team in his parents’ lavish penthouse somewhere uptown. It took a great deal to force Xiao into tagging along with you as your plus one, and you’re going to make good on his acquiescence by interrogating him about things he normally skirts around.

“I told you, I didn’t take any entrance exams,” he grumbles against the rim of his red cup. “I’m managing just fine working for Beidou, so I don’t see any reason to go to college.”

You’re about to argue that Beidou’s tattoo parlor won’t be open forever, and that he needs to think about broadening his career options until a bunch of girls with linked arms shuffle closer to where you and Xiao were lounging on the couch. You don’t talk to them a lot, but everyone in your grade knows the infamous Pyro Trio.

“Hey, Xiaooo,” Hu Tao drawls with a smirk, pushing up her sleeve to reveal the branches of a cherry blossom tattooed on the delicate skin of her arm. Behind her, Xiangling and Xinyan snicker like it’s some sort of inside joke. 

You intend to shift your gaze elsewhere. Clearly, you’re not the person these girls want to speak with. But the sight of the ink on Hu Tao’s skin makes the back of your neck prickle with misplaced irritation. Xiao must’ve been the one who did her piece, which shouldn’t be a surprise. Though he’s this year’s most notable absentee, rumors about Xiao’s handiwork haven’t gone unnoticed among the students in your (now) alma mater. 

That doesn’t mean you have to like the idea of your best friend inking other people that aren't you, though.

You decide to excuse yourself from Xiao’s company—given that Hu Tao is giving him plenty of attention already as is. Your best friend utters something you don’t quite catch as you walk away, and you don’t bother turning around to ask him to repeat himself.

(As you stuff your face with shot after shot, you force yourself to just keep dancing to the rhythm of whatever song is blaring to the speakers. You didn’t give two shits about the fact that Hu Tao keeps feeling up the stupid phoenix tattoo on Xiao’s arm. Nor did you care about the fact that your best friend—who’s normally evasive when it comes to casual contact—seems like he doesn’t mind at all.)

The night ends with Xiao begrudgingly getting behind the wheel of your car, since you’re obviously in no state to be driving anyone home. When he announces that he’ll bring you back to your apartment, you slur out a drunken protest—asking if he can take you to the tattoo parlor instead.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Why?”

You huff, curling in on yourself on the passenger seat. “The cherry blossoms you gave Hu Tao were ugly as shit. You can do a better piece on me. Y’know, as practice.” 

Both of you know that you’re bluffing. Xiao’s pieces are one of the most intricate you’ve ever seen, even if he is a rookie tattoo artist, and that you don’t have a lot of points of reference to compare to. But instead of taking offense at your mindless jab at his work, Xiao slots the keys into the ignition with a defeated sigh.

“Fine. You mentioned wanting spider lilies a while back,” he says before propping his arm against the car seat as he backed up on the street. It’s the perfect angle to moon over his not-so-phoenix tattoo, and if you were any more intoxicated, you would’ve reached out and squeezed his arm. 

“Where do you want it?”

You know he meant to ask where you wanted him to put your prospective tattoo, but the question sends your mind straight into the gutter. Thankfully, you still have some semblance of coherence lingering in your drunk thoughts, and you answer with:

“Right hip. Opposite end of the spruce twig.”

When Xiao heaves another sigh and steps on the gas pedal, you don’t think much of it—still convinced it’s completely normal to expose such intimate parts of yourself to your best friend so he can tattoo a fucking flower just above the swell of your thigh.

04.

“You have been watching way too much anime.”

“Come on! At least I’m not having you tattoo the names of my shitty ex-boyfriends on my ass, right? Just give me my modified Tanjiro hanafuda and Fullmetal Alchemist flamel!”

“...Is this your way of coping with taking up a nursing course? Is it that stressful?”

You whine as you hold your phone closer to your ear, already picturing the look of disbelief in Xiao’s face when you asked when he’s free to give you your next tattoos. You still go to college in the same city, but it’s been weeks since you last saw him. 

“You have no idea,” you groan. “It’s like my first year, and I’m already burned out! How is that even possible?”

Your best friend grunts on the other line. “Maybe if you stopped being such a perfectionist, then maybe you’ll learn to be more content. Less stress on your part, too.”

“Ah, no can do. I never do anything that isn’t perfect,” you chuckle. “

“Yeah, I saw you score at the top of your class during your, uh… what was it again? Biochem exam?” 

For someone who doesn’t exactly give a damn about anything outside tattooing and other similar forms of artistry, you find it endearing to know Xiao actually remembers all the things you rant about in the wee hours of the morning. You don’t hate biochem, but if you have to draw another chemical configuration, you might just pop a vein. 

“Okay, let’s say I agree to tattoo those weird doodles you sent,” Xiao propositions, “do you even have any free days? You usually study on weekends, right? I don’t think you’re free to drop by the shop even if you wanted to.”

Fuck. He’s right. You still have a few major exams coming up in the next two weeks. If you wait that long until you get your silly weeaboo tattoos from Xiao, you would’ve already gotten over your momentary hyperfixation on the TV shows that were salvaging your sanity in the middle of the semester. It wouldn’t feel as thrilling to get them anymore.

“I’m free…” You trail off, eyes darting to the digital clock by your desk then to the course notes you have opened on your laptop. You haven’t studied as much as you wanted to for your upcoming anatomy test, but…

“Right now, actually. Can you pick me up?”

You can hear him frowning. “Don’t you have a car?”

“I do, but I don’t wanna drive when I have plastic wrap all over my body.” 

“You’re exaggerating. It’s not all over your—”

“Jesus, get the hint, Xiao. I miss my best friend, and I want to have a quiet evening cruise on his motorcycle before he gets me inked again!” 

Xiao falls silent, and this time, you’re having some difficulty picturing what expression he’s wearing on his face. You like to think you’ve startled your un-startle-able best friend, but that’s pushing your influence too much. 

“Okay,” he says, more agreeable than you thought he’d be. “I’ll be there in thirty. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”

05. 

When you introduce your first serious boyfriend in a while to Xiao, you’re a bit annoyed with how prickly he’s being. 

Sure, it’s wired into his system to be the snarky asshole everyone knows and loves, but if there’s anyone else who knows about the tragedy that is your love life better than yourself, it’s Xiao. When you finally land a decent guy to settle down with, you at least expect him to be a bit more supportive.  

“Actually, we came here ‘cause we planned on getting matching tattoos,” your boyfriend, Yin, explains with a dimpled smile. “Isn’t that right?”

You stifle a soft laugh, a bit embarrassed to agree, but too in love with your boyfriend to protest. 

A few years ago, you distinctly remember drunkenly rambling to Xiao about how stupid it is to get couple tattoos especially when relationships these days are built on flimsy foundations. 

If you break up, what then? You have a physical reminder of that person on your body for eternity? No fucking thanks!

“Sorry, we’re closed right now, as you can see,” Xiao grunts before jabbing his thumb at the sign he just turned at the door. “You can try some other time, though.”

At the time, you were pissed at Xiao for denying your little request. He always agreed to ink you during ungodly hours of the day, but now he’s playing the ‘shop’s closed’ card just because he doesn’t like your boyfriend?

But then, you end up grateful for his attitude exactly a month later. 

“Fucking cheated on me with some bitch from his Physics lecture,” you sniffle on Xiao’s ratty sofa as he makes you some tea in his kitchen. “I can’t believe I nearly tattooed our anniversary on my wrist! I would’ve had to fucking amputate it in the end.”

Xiao sighs before placing a piping hot cup of honey lemon in front of you on his coffee table—crossing his legs together. He doesn’t tell you I told you so, like others probably would if they were in his shoes. Your best friend just stares at you with withering understanding, no matter how stupid the choice that got you here in the first place turned out to be.

That’s one of the many things you loved about him. 

“You were supposed to have ‘XV’ inked together, right?” he asks. 

You huff before tossing some of the soiled tissues you used into the bin. “Yeah. We made it official on September 15th.”

“Well, if you still want the tattoo, you could just give it a different meaning.”

Scowling, you stare at Xiao as if he just grew a second head. “What the hell are you talking about?” Is he really suggesting for you to get the same tattoo that he denied you and your ex a month ago?

Xiao shrugs noncommittally before taking a sip from the tea he prepared for you. “It’s been fifteen years since we became best friends. That’s worth commemorating, at least. Unless you suddenly don’t give a shit about that, too?”

Your jaw hangs agape at the sudden reminder. October 15th. When you were four, you accidentally spilled orange juice all over Xiao’s teletubbies backpack, and when he forgave you on the spot, you crowned him as your first bestie. 

That was fifteen years ago. Holy shit.

He startles when you abruptly shoot back to your feet, earning yourself a perplexed stare from Xiao who just wants you to sit down and drink your damn tea—

“Is Beidou’s shop open?” you ask. “I want her to do our matching tatts.”

Xiao grimaces. “Our?”

You nod brusquely, tugging at his arm. “Yeah, I’m allowed to have matching tattoos with you, ‘cause you’ll never walk out of my life, right, Xiao?”

He’s always been a stubborn little shit, so you don’t really expect Xiao to relent as quickly as he does. You nearly stumble to the carpeted floor when he lets you pull him up—faces hovering so close to each other, you nearly choke on your own breath.

It doesn’t help that Xiao has definitely…put in a few inches of height. Back then, you used to tease him a lot for being taller than him, but now?

“Never,” he whispers so softly, you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren't as close to him as you are. “Now drink your stupid honey lemon tea so we can head to the shop.” 

About two and a half hours later, you’re sitting on the vacant seats in the shop’s waiting lounge—a familiar sting still sizzling beneath your ribcage from where you had your first matching piece with Xiao permanently inked. You made him swear to have his own ‘XV’ tattoo made on the same place, and he makes good on his promise when he emerges from the workroom, wearing nothing but his dark-washed jeans.

Unlike yourself, you rarely see Xiao in various states of undress. The most skin you could get out of him on most days is the lean muscle of his tattooed biceps, and sometimes those are enough to have you staring dumbly at him for several minutes.

Now, though?

You learn that he has several tattoos on his torso—spread across his skin like patchwork. It makes you wonder if he did some of them himself, or if he had Beidou work on them for him. Still, despite the plethora of new ink stains to gawk at, his weird phoenix tattoo remains as your personal favorite.

Along with the newest piece he got not five minutes earlier—the tattoo he shares with you.

“Are you happy now?” he grumbles, letting you marvel at the perfect roman numerals just below the jut of his ribs. “It’s a good thing Beidou gave it to us free of charge, you know.”

You giggle. “All of my tatts so far have been free of charge.”

“That’s only because you’re special to me,” Xiao sighs before freezing up in the next moment—like he didn’t mean to let that slip aloud.

You smirk. “Mm? What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Fuck off.”

06. 

Much to Xiao’s disappointment, your shitty taste in men doesn’t exactly end with Yin.

About three months after getting the tattoo to commemorate your fifteen years of best friendship, you meet Kaeya. He’s an exchange student, and you know better than to form any sort of attachment to someone who isn’t going to be in the same continent as you by next year. 

But you let him in anyway. 

You allow Kaeya to get to know you in ways that not even Xiao is familiar with. The smooth-talking foreigner likes to kiss every single one of your tattoos—lamenting the fact that they’re all inked in spots hidden from view. You laugh every time he brings it up, saying your parents are going to kill you and Xiao if they saw any of the pieces your best friend did for you over the last six years. 

“That best friend of yours…” Kaeya muses once he’s done bringing you to paradise and back, smoking a cigarette that makes you wrinkle your nose with distaste. He would’ve been perfect, if only he wasn’t such a chronic chainsmoker. “He’s in love with you, isn’t he?”

You nearly fall off the bed at his bold declaration.

“W-What the fuck are you talking about?” you stammer. Xiao? In love? With you? 

Kaeya shrugs. “I dunno, sweetheart. If I was a tattoo artist, I wouldn’t let anyone freeload my craft as many times as you did—even if you are my best friend. Unless I was down fucking bad for you, of course.”

Xiao doesn’t like Kaeya, but the reasoning behind it is a bit different from why he doesn’t like your ex. He knew Yin wasn’t a good match for you. Kaeya, though? The two of you had inarguable chemistry. The only problem was he was a free spirit that didn’t like to be tied down by commitments—something you clearly struggle with. 

When you reassured Xiao that Kaeya is nothing but a way to scratch a passing itch, he merely scoffed and told you to do whatever you wanted.

Could his dismissiveness be because…he’s in love with you? 

That can’t be right. You’re the one who knows Xiao best. If he hypothetically does catch feelings for someone—much less, you—you’ll surely be the first to notice, right?

Right?

Kaeya chuckles before tracing the XV tattoo along your ribcage with a cold finger—almost like he’s teasing. You roll your eyes before crawling back on top of your midnight lover, kissing him just to shut him up. 

When you drop by Beidou's the next day, Xiao is nowhere to be found.

“Didn’t he tell you?” She gapes. “Our boy’s starting his own shop downtown! He had the soft launch and everything a week ago. I was wondering where you were.”

“Uh…” 

You’re not sure how to break the news that Xiao has been giving you the cold shoulder ever since you got together with Kaeya. But finding out that he put up his own tattoo parlor without even telling you? 

If Kaeya turns out to be right, and your best friend really was in love with you, he sure as hell wasn’t acting like it. 

Deciding to play along with whatever game he’s playing, you make an appointment to get a new piece inked under a fake name. Xiao accepts it right away and schedules you for an early evening slot. You make it a point to arrive twenty minutes late just to get a rise out of him. 

When he sees you at the entrance to his shop, you almost let yourself feel smug about the unadulterated surprise on his face. Almost. You’re still pissed off that he didn’t invite you to one of the most important milestones of his life.

He fulfills your request in silence—the French word for green inked unassumingly on the underside of your shoulder blades. Xiao doesn’t say a word about his evasiveness, nor does he address the fact that you, his literal best friend, are standing in the shop he’s kept a secret for god knows how long. 

When he still refuses to talk, you slam your payment on top of a nearby table—intent on storming out of the building even if he hasn’t wrapped your newest piece in a protective layer of plastic yet. Xiao barks that he doesn’t want your fucking money, and you end up throwing your hands in the air, asking:

“Then what the hell do you want?”

You expected him to blow up in a fitful of rage. He’s never been good at anger management, you knew this well. But instead, he crosses the distance separating the two of you and crushes your mouths together.

“You,” he whispers hoarsely, desperately against your lips. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

Kaeya calls you multiple times that night—even leaves a text message asking where you are and if you’re free. You aren’t able to answer any of them though. Not when you’re busy being railed into the next life by your best friend of fifteen—going sixteen—years in the same bed that Kaeya just had his way with you a week ago. 

When Xiao’s lips graze each and every tattoo he personally inked onto your pliant body, it’s leagues different from when Kaeya does it. It’s like your best friend is leaving a trail of fire sizzling beneath your skin everywhere his mouth trails along your hypersensitive flesh. 

Even the way he makes you fall apart from a blistering orgasm is ten times more intense than every session you had with Kaeya and Yin combined.

There’s no affection nor is there adoration in Xiao’s gaze as he fucks into you—golden eyes fueled by something carnal and zealous, but you knew better than to call that love. 

When morning comes, Xiao isn’t here with you, and you don’t know which emotion to feel. 

Kaeya, at least, has the decency to leave a note whenever he has to depart early. But all that your best friend leaves you with is a sinking feeling in your stomach, and a glaring realization that you did not want to make when you’re crying all alone in your apartment at the crack of dawn.

Kaeya was wrong. Xiao isn’t in love with you.

You’re in love with Xiao, and you immediately know you’re in deep fucking shit because of it.

07.

It’s two weeks into your mission of complete radio silence when Xiao finally breaks.

You’re in the middle of a pharmacology lecture when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You knew it wasn’t Kaeya because he’d already packed his things last week and headed back to his home country. The bastard even asked you for a quick farewell fuck, but you turned him down right away and gave him a kiss goodbye instead.

When you find out it’s a text message from the same person you’ve been trying to avoid all this time, you’re all too quick to parse through its contents.

Xiao: I'm sorry. Can we talk?

That’s how you wind up standing right outside of his new tattoo parlor. 

You haven’t been able to take a good look at it the last time you were here—too frustrated with your best friend to really make sense of your surroundings. But he’s put up his new shop in a pretty good part of town. You wonder how Xiao managed to afford it all. 

Then again, he’s been working at Beidou’s shop for years. You knew he had a decent number of regulars, as well as potential clients that are highly interested in his work. 

For once, you let yourself be proud of him. Even if he didn’t put your name on the guest list for his soft launch.

Xiao looks a little sheepish when he lets you inside and flips the sign on the front door to give the two of you some privacy. You aren’t faring any better. The last time you saw him, he was balls-deep inside of you—fucking you like you’re the most despicable woman in the world.

“So there’s this…collage piece I wanted to try,” he starts, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

Of course when Xiao invites you over to talk, you shouldn’t have expected any actual talking to take place. That’s just not his style. He’d rather make up for whatever mistakes he made by inking another stupid tattoo on your body, but honestly? You’ll take whatever you can get.

When you saw his sketch of a Statue of David peppered with four-leaf clovers, you couldn’t even dream of parsing the meaning behind the piece. The only thing that makes you relent is an old memory of you and Xiao hunting for four-leaf clovers in your mother’s garden—even putting the effort to plant whatever you could find in a pot in hopes that they would grow bigger.

It takes him hours to complete the entire thing. This one is probably the most realistic piece he’s done for you, and you can’t help but watch the intense concentration on his face through the mirror on the wall as he inks it a few inches above the last tattoo he did for you. 

You’ve never really realized how…breathtaking he looks like this.

His fringe falling across his pretty gold eyes, the comfortable set of his jaw as he focuses on his work, and the soft slope of his cupid’s bow despite how harsh the words that come out of his mouth can be.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You really are in love with this guy.

When he’s finally satisfied with his work, Xiao puts down his machine before wiping a sheen of sweat off his brow. He already looks so fucking good while he’s working. How is it fair for him to look even more gorgeous right after the entire process?

“Come on, let’s wrap it up,” he says before stretching his limbs. The action makes the cropped shirt he’s wearing ride up his torso a little, and you’re teased with a glimpse of the tattoo he matches with you.

Your heart nearly leaps to your throat, and if it weren’t for the dull sting of your newest tattoo, you would’ve been entranced by the sight of him entirely.

“Sure,” you say, even if your heart is begging for you to just be honest with him. To let him know how you’ve felt all this time because frankly, you can’t keep carrying the weight of your own feelings for much longer.

But then you remember how…apathetic Xiao looked like the night he dared to tell you he wanted you. There was no love to be found in his animalistic gaze, and you fear that he’ll turn you even further away at the slightest hint of more-than-friendly affection from your end. 

You can live with this. His fleeting yet heated touches. His deep, piercing stares. 

You’ll do anything to preserve what you have with him now—even if that means sacrificing everything else you could still dream of.

08.

Sometimes, you think Xiao is making you hope on purpose.

Sure, your friendship was more or less salvaged after offering your Statue of David tattoo as a quiet apology. You’re back to teasing him for all the most minuscule things, and Xiao is back to being your voice of reason in no time.

These days, though, you don’t really have much time to hang out with him like you usually do. You’re in the last year of your nursing degree, and your shifts at the hospital on top of your regular academic workload render you much too exhausted to catch up with any of your friends. Xiao included.

But there comes a night when he visits you in your apartment when you’re busy studying for a tricky surgery exam—a bucket full of fried chicken, and a bottle of sparkling water in hand. What kind of fiend would turn away an unannounced blessing like that ? 

You munch through the midnight snack Xiao brought for you all while forcing him to do your flashcards with you. He knows the drill, anyways. Though he’s been out of school for years, Xiao is still familiar enough with your study habits to be of substantial help during these trying times.

While you’re in the middle of differentiating the different types of sutures, though, he proposes an idea.

“It’s been a while since I inked you with a sewing needle and pen ink, isn’t it?”

You narrow your eyes, taking a swig of your carbonated drink as your gaze flickers to the pseudo-Orion’s belt on your right forearm. The third star has all but faded from view over the years.

“Yeah, why are you asking?”

Xiao rummages through his knapsack for a few seconds before bringing out what seems to be a small sewing kit, and a jar labeled ‘Indian ink’. You gulp in equal parts dread and anticipation.

“I figured out how to make the tatts stay longer,” he says, a gentle smile settling over his face. “You want me to give you a new one? I can even revive good old Orion, too.”

You sigh. Who are you to turn the love of your life down anyway?

Xiao gets to work while you’re lying sideways on your bed, flinching every now and again because he decided to outline the spitting image of the flower vase sitting on top of your nightstand along the curve of your waist. 

Unlike your first experience with manual needling, your pain tolerance is much better. The only reason you’re squirming every time Xiao embeds the ink into your skin is because you’re fucking ticklish. All those years of being intimately acquainted with Beidou’s tattoo machine were all the sensory training you needed, it seems. 

When Xiao is done with this piece, he pulls you into an upright position, making you hold out your arm so he could resurrect the first tattoo he ever gave you. You roll your eyes, but let him do as he pleases anyway.

At this point, you’ll let him do anything with you.

It’s nearly three in the morning when you’re putting away the dishes and glasses you and Xiao used for the night. He’s kind enough to throw out the trash while you clean up in the kitchen, and when he meets you back in the living room to exchange farewells, you don’t really want him to go.

“You have morning classes tomorrow, right?” he murmurs as he pulls you into a firm embrace, careful not to press down too hard on your new tattoo. “Take care. Don’t burn yourself out too much. All your hard work will be for nothing if you end up keeling over before graduation.”

You can’t help it. The soft timbre of his voice coupled with the fond look in his eyes tears all your defenses asunder. As you look up to meet Xiao’s uncharacteristically doting gaze, your chest twists more and more as you keep yourself from lunging in for a kiss.

“You’re such a pessimist, it’s almost funny how caring you sound,” you chuckle. “Go on, now. Shoo. It’s late.”

Before you can push him out of the door, however, Xiao catches you by surprise when he leans down to peck your lips. You stay frozen in place even as he pulls away—smiling so prettily, you can hardly believe this guy is your perpetually pissed off best friend.

“Good night.” 

Unlike the last time he left you all alone in your apartment, you’re filled to the brim with an emotion you can’t quite name. It’s far from the emptiness that made a home in your heart when you thought you were in love with someone who didn’t love you back. But you’re not about to call it happiness either.

Whatever this strange feeling is, you let it sit in your chest for a while longer, and it lingers even when the memory of Xiao’s lips stops prickling against the skin of your own.

09.

On the day of your graduation, Xiao asks you to drop by his shop after the rites have concluded. You tell him that he’s self-centered as fuck, and that this is your day, so if he wants to use your body as a practice canvas again, he’s going to have to wait tomorrow.

You don’t tell him that you’re sulking because he didn’t even show up to congratulate you for surviving four gruesome years of nursing. But you suppose that someone who never went to college in the first place wouldn’t be the best at sympathizing with this particular milestone in your life.

He shows you his latest sketch when you make it to his shop the next morning—and you can’t contain the look of disbelief that colors your features when you realize what it is.

“A bouquet that’ll never wilt,” he chuckles, one finger expertly pointing out the flowers he’s drawn on the neat page. “Orchids and hydrangeas: your favorite. Violets: you press a bunch of these in books every summertime. Pink baby’s breath ‘cause you wouldn’t stop gushing about them at your sister’s wedding.”

You aren’t able to stifle the flattered giggle that spills from your lips. “Can’t believe you actually remember all that. What’s the lily of the valley doing there though?”

“Oh, this?” Xiao hums with one brow raised. “Your mom had lots of them in her old garden. Those are my favorite.”

“And, pray tell, why is your favorite flower going to be permanently tattooed on my body?”

Xiao doesn’t humor you with a verbal answer right away. Instead, he wheels his revolving seat closer to you so that he’s close enough to press your foreheads together. Your breath hitches when his mouth curves into a loving smile you’re starting to get used to seeing.

“Because you’re mine,” he says simply. “Now, are you going to tell me where you want me to ink your eternal bouquet or not?”

10.

You’re a complete sap when it comes to weddings. Everyone knows this.

It’s for that reason that none of your guests are surprised when you end up crying in the middle of exchanging vows with your fiancé. Xiao sighs before taking out a handkerchief from his front pocket, dabbing at the tears streaming down your face. For someone who comes on so tough to other people, you’re awfully sentimental.

“Sorry, sorry—” you sniffle, thanking every single god out there for the invention of waterproof mascara. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

The rest of the session proceeds swiftly. You get to kiss your best friend of more than two decades and call him your husband in front of some friends and family. The matrimonial rites were held in a private resort at the base of a mountain. Both you and Xiao wanted to preserve the intimacy of your wedding as much as you could. After all, you didn’t need all that flashy and grandiose wedding prep to prove to the world just how much you want to spend the rest of your life with Xiao. 

Your thoughts stay the same even as he lays you down in the king-sized bed of the cabin you had to yourselves. He sighs in between kisses as he strips you off your wedding garbs. You’re surprised he’s taking his time with you. Xiao has been eye-fucking you since you started walking down the aisle. It was so bad that even Beidou made a few off-hand remarks about the sexual tension during the reception. 

“I was thinking,” you breathe as he grinds his hips against yours, “of getting another tattoo. My last one.” 

Xiao lifts his head for a moment, one brow arched. “You’re married to a tattoo artist, and you think the tattoo you’re getting after the wedding is your last one? You’re dreaming, princess.”

“Fine. Point taken.” You roll your eyes. “But anyway, I want a dragon tattoo riiiight…here.”

Your husband watches with rapt attention as you guide his hand to the spot you’re talking about—just below the collection of your favorite flowers inked above your waist is a blank stretch of skin. Xiao’s lips twitch into a fond smile as his calloused fingers graze your flesh.

“Still against having showy tatts?” he asks before pressing a soft kiss on the spot you pointed at. 

“Mhmm. You see, my dad doesn’t care if I’m married and have my own life. If he sees that I have tattoos, he’s still going to murder me,” you chuckle. “So yeah, tatts are staying under my clothes until he grows old enough and forgets that he hates seeing ink on other people’s skin.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind then.”

When Xiao ravishes you for the first time as your husband, your chest overflows with love for him. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their best friends by their sides for as long as you did, yet you ended up tying the knot with yours. Although the entire process was more than twenty years in the making, you suppose there’s no point in rushing anything.

After all, Xiao is as permanent in your life just as much as the ink stains on your body.

“Look,” you chuckle once Xiao is done cleaning up in the bathroom and settles down right next to you on the bed, “Kaeya sent us a postcard. He says congrats on overcoming the emotional constipation.”

“Throw that thing away,” your husband grumbles, pulling you away from the pile of postcards on the nightstand. “Why are you even keeping touch with him still?”

“So I can use him as an excuse to get you jealous, and have you fuck me rough?”

“Oh, princess. If you wanted it rough…” he starts with a sigh, rolling his neck with a smirk. You gulp, wondering if you’ve bitten off more than you can chew this time around.

“All you had to do was ask.”

⟢ end notes: it's been a while since i wrote for genshin, so i hope you liked it! thank you sm for reading ^^

I’ve seen a lot of dad!ego, but I haven’t seen husband!ego yet

I can see ego as such a simp for the reader. He’s obsessed with soccer as much as he’s obsessed with her and he needs her attention 24/7, and physical touch is his love language and he’s just smitten over the reader

Pls write soft!husband ego for me pls

You order, I serve.

Masterlist

Current Blue Lock writing event

Tags: husband!Ego x gn!reader, fluff

A/N: This is my second time writing a shipping thing with Ego. Technically, my first time because the first one was basically reader breaking up with Ego WHOOPS. But uhm, yeah I love dad!Ego but currently I kind of struggle seeing Ego in a romantic relationship with anyone😭 But!!! I'm very happy to write whatever I get requested for. So if you want to, keep requesting for partner!Ego

-Ego used to say there's nothing he loves more than soccer. Well, that was prior to meeting you

-it wasn't love at first sight, but you certainly grew onto each other's hearts quite fast

-your friends and family used to always tell you how you rushed your relationship too quickly, how you got engaged and married too soon. But now, years into your marriage, you wouldn't want it any other way

-to others, it's surprising how soft, emotional and sentimental Ego acts towards you. Everyone knows him as such a self-serving and egotistical person, but for you, that part of him always fades

-not only does he love you, but he's also very obsessed with you, on a level equal to his obsession with soccer

-and when it comes to his obsession with soccer, you're extremely supportive of him. From beginning to end of Blue Lock you were on his side to support and encourage him, which is something he adores and appreciates so incredibly much about you

-while Blue Lock was happening, Ego was so busy with work. He hated how it made him lose time he could have spent with you. That's why, whenever you weren't at work or busy with your own things, he required you to be in his office, usually sitting next to him or on his lap. But honestly, you're on his lap most of the time

BLLK Boys: Their Drunk Persona & Dealing With Them

❥ Headcanons for: H. Chigiri, M. Bachira, R. Itoshi, R. Kunigami, R. Mikage, S. Nagi, Y. Isagi

❥ Notes/Tags: All characters aged up to 20+, gn!reader & pre-established relationship between consenting adults, nicknames & JP honourifics, no spoilers, SFW

❥ WC: Short; ~500 each

❥ CW: direct mentions of alcohol and drinking too much, emetophobia warning

❥ PC: YI ♡ . SN ♡ . MB ♡ . HC ♡ . RI ♡ . RK ♡ . RM ♡

♥ Yoichi Isagi: The Blackout Drunk

❥ Poor Isagi probably gets drank under the table every single time. His competitive nature makes him believe that this is going to be the night where he’ll be able to catch up to the others; alas, despite your dutiful reminders of what happens every time he lets himself get riled up, his Japanese genetics are his own worst enemy. He also forgets how badly his body reacts every time, which doesn’t help you to convince him that he and alcohol are not friends.

❥ He’s a notorious puker, but at least he’s a champ about it and manages to hold it until he gets to an appropriate receptacle. People know to keep a trash can near him. 

❥ His red face/Asian glow is very cute on him. His blush is full-body and he gets really warm really fast. 

❥ He might unwittingly start to think out loud about things he’d usually keep to himself while hunched over the porcelain throne, so whoever’s in there to make sure he’s okay is going to hear the inner workings of Yoichi Isagi—which should make for very interesting commentary. 

“Yoichi-kun, I got you a Pocari Sweat… you okay?” 

Bounding up the stairs to the washroom two at a time, you’re rushing with the bottle tucked under your arm to check on your boyfriend. You told him not to play that drinking game with the others, and look where it got him. He might excel at soccer, but he’s definitely no winner when it comes to holding his liquor. 

“Not enough… need to be… hic… more…”

You slow down at the partially-closed door, hearing him muttering conspiratorially with his head bowed over the toilet. You can still see how red his neck and ears are, even from here, dark locks of hair plastered against his sweaty skin. 

“Yoichi?” you repeat louder to announce your presence, gently knocking the door with your knuckles. He raises his head and blinks at you blearily, dazed. 

“I-I’m fineghk—”

“Not fine.” You sigh, kneeling beside him to brush back the bangs on his forehead as he hurls up whatever’s left in him. He rests his head exhaustedly on a limp elbow, eyes closed, probably to help with the dizziness. “You should try and drink this electrolyte,” you prompt.

“Need to be better,” he mumbles again, like he never even heard you, lost in his own head. “Gotta be better for [Name]…”

At this point, you’re used to his unknowing mumblings. Knowing that he’ll never admit to saying this when sober, you let yourself smile secretively and whisper back into his ear,

“You’re already my number one.”

He cracks a blue eye open, looking shocked. The sweetest smile you’ve ever seen cracks over his blooming face. He won’t remember this, but you’ll just have to keep reminding him once he’s sobered up. 

♥ Seishiro Nagi: The Touch-Starved Drunk

❥ 190 cm of lover boy is going to end up draped around whoever’s close enough (or unfortunate enough) to end up stuck beneath him. 

❥ His sleepy disposition + a couple drinks = immediate snooze town. He’s able to fall asleep literally anywhere, so if you don’t want him conked out on a bench in the middle of nowhere, you better hope you’re strong enough to haul him around. 

❥ He falls asleep on you like a koala hugging a branch to get as much of him touching you as possible. He whines like a baby if you try to wake him up or move him. With a face like that, how could you ever say no?

❥ He craves your warmth and refuses to let you go, even if you’re embarrassed by how openly he’s displaying his affections. He doesn’t care if everybody can see you because they should all know you belong to him, anyways.

He already knows that you’re ticklish, but that doesn’t stop him from burying his face into your neck. White strands of coarse hair make you shudder, and you can feel how cold the tip of his nose is when he presses it into your skin. Some other party-goers shoot you odd looks as he wraps his arms around you possessively, trapping you in your seat.

“Uh, Sei?” you try to reason, panicked, but there’s no use fighting him when he’s three times as strong as you. “Don’t fall asleep yet…

“Sleepy.” It’s all he has to say for himself as he sighs, the warm breath once again making you flinch as it sweeps the baby hairs on your sensitive nape. “You’re comfy….”

“If you fall asleep on me, I won’t be able to get up! You’re too heavy!”

“Where would you want to go without me anyways?” he grumbles, hugging you even more tightly so that air is squeezed out of your lungs. He treats you almost like his personal teddy bear, sighing contentedly as he leans his full weight into you. “Don’t go anywhere. Stay right here. With… m…”

He doesn’t even finish his sentence, falling asleep with his mouth still half open. People are still staring at you for having a giant man wrapped around you on the couch. No matter how much you wriggle, he refuses to let go; and when he stirs, he just holds onto you tighter. You might be more annoyed if he wasn’t so damn cute about it, his face happily content to be holding you.

You decide he’s earned five more minutes of getting his way before you really start to try and shake him off of you. 

♥ Meguru Bachira: The Reckless Drunk

❥ He’s already impulsive enough sober and lacks social anxiety, so he’d be an absolute menace after a few drinks. 

❥ If you do not lay eyes on him at all times, he’s absolutely going to disappear, and you’ll find him doing rooftop parkour or something equally outrageous. He’s a wanderer and is the person that always goes missing with nobody knowing where he went. You’d probably need to strap him into those kiddy backpacks with a leash just to keep track of him.

❥ He would not have the capacity to hold his tongue and would probably accidentally start a couple fights just by making some off-hand comments. 

❥ As much of a handful as he is, there’s reasoning behind it. He’s used to acting out for people to notice him, even if it’s negative attention. He feels like he has to do something crazy because all he wants is for your eyes to be only on him.

“Megu—how the hell did you get up there?!”

It’s freezing cold outside at this hour, but here you are, shivering as you shout up into a tree. Your boyfriend laughs down at you gleefully as if he’s not perched on a branch that looks like it’s one dirty look away from snapping in half. 

“Are ya’ impressed yet, [Name]-cchi?” His words are somewhat slurred, which is ever more worrisome. You can’t let a star athlete break his bones because he fell out of a damn tree. Teeth chattering, you shout up to him again. 

“Come down! Please?”

“Mm… don’t wanna.”

It’s times like these that you remember he will always be a kid at heart, and if you’re going to win, you need to address the child inside of him. You happily wave and turn around. 

“Okay, bye then! Have fun up there!”

“H-hey—wait!” 

He’s quick to jump down from the tree the moment you pretend to walk off, rolling in the sand before bouncing up to his feet. He pouts, stumbling after you. He obviously expected you to yell at him more.

“Gotcha’.” You turn around and quickly wrap your arms around him, squeezing him meaningfully with a stern look. “Seriously, Megu, stop climbing random things. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“It just looked like it’d be fun.”

“Do something crazy like that again and I’m going to die young. Do you want that to happen?” You peer up at his reddened face meaningfully, and he shakes his head fervently. You smile softly to assuage the scared look on his face that he’s made you angry. Then, you realize;

“Where are your pants?!”

♥ Hyoma Chigiri: The Secret Drunk

❥ He would hate going out and would equally hate the drinking culture because it’s so noisy. On the off-occasion that he concedes and indulges, nothing much changes at all; he seems like he’d have a high tolerance and simply doesn’t bother with drinking since it’s bad for your health. 

❥ He’s picky as all hell and would end up critiquing the alcohol like a wine connoisseur, much to the annoyance of the other jocks around him who are just drinking to get drunk. 

❥ He would find the quietest corner in a party setting or hunt down the family pet, preferring to be alone or with you to avoid dealing with everybody else’s mess. 

❥ He probably ends up disappearing halfway through the night, timing his exit with the moment people start to forget about him. 

"Pspspsp... c'mere, kitty-chan..."

"There you are, Hyoma-kun!"

The cat, startled by noise, darts away to retreat even further into the shadows. Chigiri sighs irritably before realizing that it's you, and his expression brightens immediately.

"Hey," he greets quietly, barely audible over the music thumping downstairs. "Sorry I dipped. You looked like you were having a good time catching up with your old friends."

"I know, don't worry." You kneel beside him, offering him your glass. He eyes it judgementally to which you smile wryly. "It's not 150 yen beer, I promise. It's a fruity drink that I like."

"Hm..." 

You always admire how he looks when he's serious. His pink eyes look almost crimson red in this low-light, and the braided hairstyle you helped him with earlier tonight frames his angular face. He sucks his teeth, aerating the drink in his mouth like a professional—as if this also didn't come from a can.

"It's too sweet," he decides, though he's more gentle about it with you than he was to the other guys who tried to pressure him into doing shots of something vile. He passes it back to you with a reassuring smile. "But drink as much as you want."

"I think I'm done, actually. Should we get out of here?"

His eyes light up as if you've told him that he's won the lottery. He grabs your hand and is already immediately hauling you up to your feet.

"The next part of Shingeki no Kyojin came out. I haven't watched it yet because I was waiting for you, but we'll have time if we go now. Did you leave anything? Do you have your coat?"

It's hilarious how excited he is to get home to watch anime, but knowing that he wants you there when he doesn't care for the company of anybody else makes the warm glow on your face fill your heart, too. 

♥ Rin Itoshi: The "Gap Moe" Smiley Drunk

❥ Rin probably would never touch a drink until he’s goaded into it. You’d really have to get under his skin to convince him to put a toxin into his body when his entire life revolves around conditioning himself to be the world’s best striker. But he hates losing even more, so he’d cave pretty easily. 

❥ He’s trained his face to be incredibly stoic and has suppressed his feelings for so long that when he becomes even the slightest bit inebriated, those emotions break past his barrier.

❥ He isn’t even ‘drunk’ and talks/acts with the same blunt unfriendliness as per usual, but he’s stuck with a goofy smile that makes people take him a lot less seriously. People think it’s creepy because he’s locked into a cheerful looking grin until the drinks clear out of his system. 

❥ It’s the only time anybody besides from his partner can catch him smiling so openly. He hates pictures, but nobody would pass up a chance to get a shot of the infamous Puppeteer going “😊”.

"I'm not drunk," Rin snaps at you in a very hostile tone of voice. "Just leave me alone." 

To anybody else, they would've backed off by now. But his entire demeanour is completely negated by the peaceful smile that tugs on his lips. At this point in your relationship you are fully aware that Rin accidentally says things he doesn't really mean; and it seems like that cheap shot of sake did you a favour into revealing his true thoughts. Literally. Even now, he's smiling.

"If you're not drunk, then why do you look like that?"

"I always look like this," he retorts.

You laugh. Openly. You have to, because no way in hell does Rin Itoshi of all people walk around grinning like he's Buddha or something. He looks like he's about to start skipping away, flower petals raining behind him. It's unconscious, you know, but it's still hilarious. He flushes red, brightly, and you're even more delighted to know that you've gotten this crazy egoist to blush all because of you. 

"It's cute," you say (stifling another laugh), patting him on the shoulder. He always begrudgingly lets you have your way with him—you're the only one who's earned this privilege. Rin always takes things too seriously, so you've decided for him that you'll be the one to lift him out of the ruts he digs himself into. 

"It's not," he groans defeatedly, rubbing his eyes with a sigh. "I can't go out there and be seen like this."

"Then let's just stay here for a little while longer." You sit down beside him on the bed, unable to help yourself from smiling back to him even if he isn't meaning to smile at you. "For what it's worth, I really like this look on you. You could stand to smile more."

(You look away before meeting his eyes; then, you would've been able to tell that his gaze softens, and the smile is genuine.)

♥ Rensuke Kunigami: The Competitive-But-Always-Loses Drunk

❥ He’s always going to be super nice, but even after the tiniest bit of alcohol gets into him, he is so. Freaking. L o u d. Like, shouting at the top of his lungs even if you’re sitting right next to him because he thinks he’s talking normally kind of loud.

❥ Would end up trying to arm wrestle anybody he talks to. If they decline, he’ll try to get them to play rock-paper-scissors with him. He’s just super competitive and truly believes he can win even when he can barely walk straight.

❥ He worries a lot about people’s perceptions of him being a mean person, so you suspect that’s why he tries so hard to be extra sociable. He doesn’t seem to realize that people already think of him fondly as an older brother figure. 

❥ As his partner, you often end up bearing the brunt of his series of shouted challenges. Have an abundance of patience, because he cannot stand losing and will continue to beg you to play him until he wins one. 

"Wh—why am I going backwards? TURN AROUND! TURN AROUND MUSHROOM BOY!"

"His name is Toad—"

"I FELL OFF?! HOW AM I IN LAST PLACE? NO WAY! THIS IS BULLSHIT!"

"Ren, you're holding the controller upside down..."

"NO!" he protests, shaking you off when you try to reach over to help. "I got this! I... YOU WON FIRST PLACE ALREADY?! HOW?"

You ignore all the heads that turn to track the source of the noise. Kunigami is still driving poor Toad off the road, too drunk to comprehend that the controller detects his full-body leaning—and that, it is still in fact, upside down in his too-large hands. It's too funny not to laugh, even if you do pity him somewhat for earning yet another DNF in last place for what might be the eleventh time in a row.

"Rematch!" Kunigami grumbles, whipping his head to look at you. "What kind of MAN am I if I can't even win this stupid.. Ma... Marine Camp game?"

"It's called 'Mario Kart'. Marine Camp?"

"Whatever! REMATCH!" He's already spamming buttons on his (still upside down) controller. "You said... if I won, I'd get to pick your outfit... 'n I have to take that seriously! It’s on my pride!”

You feel yourself become bashful; you had said that passingly, but only because you thought he was too drunk to remember. Kunigami looks at you pointedly again, face so red it just about blends in with his orange hair. 

"C'mon, rematch!"

"Okay, okay... but only if you let me help you fix your controller first!”

♥ Reo Mikage: The Sloppy/Weepy Drunk

❥ Two words: absolute. Crybaby. So many tears. 

❥ Don’t expect cute sniffling or anything either. It’s the full ugly cry: dripping snot, wailing, whining, etc. Reo is complete waterworks by drink two. 

❥ He likes to talk big about revenge and all that, but in the end he simply never learnt how to cope with his emotions, so alcohol just sets him off even more. He is incredibly easy to make fun of in this state because he’ll just start to cry even harder, so you definitely need to usher him into a private room or something. 

❥ He’ll start crying about things that happened years ago, like how embarrassing it was to rip his pants in elementary school; then he’ll start to complain about Nagi and cry harder, even if Nagi’s not even around; then he’ll cry about how cute you are and that you don’t love him as much as he loves you (no matter what you say to console him). 

"There, there..."

"A-and then... he s-s-said... ugh—said "So, wh—cough—wh—"

"You have to breathe, Reo."

"I'm trying!"

With a small sigh, you end up wiping tears off Reo's cheeks with the same tissue he refuses to take from your hand. You lost track of him during the party, and in that short amount of time he had already managed to slosh down one too many drinks. You're still shocked that he'd subject himself to drinking when he ends up crying his eyes out in front of everybody every single time he does. For somebody so preoccupied with reputation, he's excellent at tanking his own. He's lucky you managed to excuse him before he started to weep in front of somebody of corporate import... or somebody malicious enough to take the scene to the internet. 

"You probably hate me too, s-s-seeing me like this..." 

"I don't hate you, Reo. If I did, I wouldn't be taking care of you."

"Everybody hates me!" he wails miserably, another fresh set of tears welling in his violet eyes, spilling down his face. You have to say; he spends so much time fronting with a media-trained smile or brooding with a deep scowl that it's somewhat of a relief to see him actually vent his feelings out. He's vulnerable like this, and it shows his undying trust in you. 

"What if I said I liked you a lot?"

“Y-you—you do?" His eyes widen past the tears, doe-eyed and cute with eagerness, but he's sporting a shiny snot bubble now. You know you’re in real deep to be able to say this to a face like that:

"I do."

If some other magicless person got stuck in Twisted Wonderland and tried to take my place, I'd simply let them. Yeah, bitch, now you take care of these motherfuckers and deal with Crowley's bullshit, see if I fuckin care. Have fun babysitting a bunch of sunovabitches who barely even remember you exist half the time.

I love the angst of "they pushed the Prefect away and replaced them only to miss them when they finally leave", but, also, if I were Yuu, I'd absolutely just let it happen. Call me a pushover, but I ain't shedding a tear for friends who left for the newest shiny thing. And it would relieve me from all the trouble. Guess who's not fighting Overblots anymore? This bastard, that's who.

The curse of the bat

Characters: Lilia Vanrouge; GN!Reader

Note: An AU I came up with while watching Overlord, that will be featuring almost all nonhuman twst characters.

You were invited to one of those shady auction houses as a new head of your family and it’s business and by a coincidence one of the biggest manors in your whole country. As a business owner it was a great opportunity to establish some relationships and gain even more support from the merchants and dealers. While you were planing to sell almost everything you bought here, there was one specific relic that caught your attention.

“How much for this?” You asked pointing at the bat sculpture. It was rather simplified version of the said animal, but those wings and ears were good hints on what animal the said relic represented. The owners eyes rounded in surprise, he looked at the sculpture and back at you multiple times, to be completely sure that you meant this specific peace of… art. “Are you sure you want this one?” He asked, one of his eyebrow raised in suspicion. This question normally never leaves a good merchant’s mouth, which means…

“Where’s the owner of those items?” You asked in a calm tone. The man stilled and looked around nervously, as if he was about to get punished for something. “He’s out doing… business. Listen, I understand your suspicions, but I’m his servant, so he is aware that I’m here and-“ That’s not what you wanted to hear at all. “Let me rephrase my words. Why are you so hesitant to sell me this item?” You asked, leaning slightly closer to him. The man stiffened again. “I’m not supposed to tell you, but this item is cursed! It was found in the ‘Briar Valley’ castle, it should not be here, amongst humans…” The servant whispered-yelled at you.

“Hmmm, cursed you say?” You ask, with seemingly calm tone. In reality, this poor man had no idea how much your interest has been picked. “Yes, it’s very cured and that’s why-“

“I’m buying it.”

After scaring the merchant’s servant half to death and buying what seems to be a cursed relic from once a fae castle, the rest of the working day was quite uneventful. After arriving home, you went straight to your office, ordering everyone not to bother you the rest of the day.

Placing the bat sculpture on your shelf, you sat down and began to do some paper work, after which you planned to mess with said relic some more. But you’ll be damned, the servant was right, the relic was cursed, it kept plugging your thoughts, to the point where it was hard to think properly.

Picking it up once again, you placed it on your working table to inspect. Gliding your hands over its seemingly smooch edges, watching closely how lighting from your candles, make it look almost alive like, in a strange peculiar way. Perhaps you were too deep in your own thoughts, but suddenly your hand slipped a bit, causing you to prick your ring finger on one of the sculptures teeth.

Tender flames of your candles started to flicker, as if there was a small breeze in your office. Surprised, you put the sculpture down, while turning your head towards the window’s direction. They were closed, just as you saw them be, when you first entered the room.

Suddenly, a cold wind picked up inside your room. Blowing out almost all the source of light you had, leaving only moons cold shine pecking through the curtains. Freezing on spot, too afraid to move, you kept looking at the moon, as if her kind light could save you from whatever you brought upon yourself.

“Please, kind human, look at me. I’d love to know whom should I thank for my freedom.” Behind you, you heard a smooth, silk-like, voice spoke. Slowly, you started to turn your head around.

Before you, on your office table, sat a young looking man. Skin white as a snow, beautifully illuminating in the moon light, eyes of the color of blooming red roses, that lovers present each other on their dates. Hair dark as the ravens wings, with stripes of bright pink in it. He looked quite petite, yet you felt an undeniable strong aura radiating from him. The man was dressed in all black, which only made his pale face and rose read eyes stand out even more. The stranger was smiling slyly at you, with glints of excitement in his mesmerizing eyes.

Hopping off the table, he stood before you, looking you up and down, as if confirming something to himself. “My name is Lilia Vanrouge.” He said with slight bow, before he got down on one of his knees before you. “And I shall repay you, for your kindness, by serving you to the best of my abilities.” He said bowing even deeper, hand resting on his chest, where the heart was supposed to be. After his small speech, Vanrouge lifted his head, looking at you expectingly. Smile spreading both on his face and in his voice as he spoke once again.

“What shall your first order be, Master?”

[ TO LOVE ] SCARAMOUCHE.

to love is to betray—at least that’s how scaramouche has always seen it.

and then he meets you.

“this is my bath,” you tease him lightly, and even despite the shooing motion of your hand, even despite the soft glare sent your way, you still make room for him to settle between your legs.

“well, it’s also mine now too,” he huffs.

he leans his back against your chest, let’s his body melt in against yours, let’s the soft trace of your hands fill the empty cracks with something he’s lacked for long time.

scaramouche is almost certain you realize he’s in love with you before he comes close to knowing himself. and it’s funny—even though you fall first, he falls harder.

maybe it’s just the world being cruel once again, just as it always has been with him. it’s cruel, downright evil, really, that something about you makes him forget so easily who he is, who he’s supposed to be. love has always written itself as betrayal—but you make it seem so promising, luring out the softest parts of him, the naive ones that hope and hope…just to crumble in the end, like always.

but then you wash his hair, lathering shampoo into your hands and working through his hair softly, slowly, delicately like he’s fragile.

“admit it. you just like it when i wash your hair, huh?” and you’re still teasing, still using that slightly amused tone when you speak to him. he should be insulted, he thinks, but there’s a smile on his face.

for a moment, he notes that he’s lucky his back is facing you and the smile stretched across his lips is hidden—otherwise you’d have the satisfaction of knowing you’re right. because he does love when you wash his hair, he loves the closeness and the safety and the feeling of being wanted. of being cherished. of being something to someone without having to earn it first.

but he can’t bring himself to admit it, so instead, he scoffs, leaning more weight onto you as he quirks a brow.

“well, why wash it myself if you’re around?”

it’s his way of giving himself the upper hand—his way of convincing himself that love is not the reason why he so desperately chases the tenderness of your fingers against his scalp. no, instead, he convinces himself that mortals such as you were made to serve him like this. to treat him like he’s holy and divine, like he’s the god you’re meant to worship as you kiss his shoulder with a giggle.

“that’s true,” you hum, “why would you do it when i can take care of you?”

but you’re different—and it scares him a little. you don’t worship him like he’s a deity, like he’s all mighty and the answer to your prayers. instead, you simply love him, like it’s a choice, like it’s something you want.

you cover his eyes as you rinse out the suds. love. you cup his cheek and admire him. love. you lean down and press a kiss to the tip of his nose, teasingly grazing over his lips before pulling away. love.

everything about you is completely in love—but to love is to betray, and he knows the inevitable will be soon to come.

so he denies the urge to pull you back in, ignores the almost painful need to feel your lips press against his, turns away every part of him that screams to let i love you spill from his lips.

because every time he loves, every time he so graciously gives every piece of himself—like the heart he doesn’t have, even offering the parts that don’t exist and giving them up anyway—love always tastes like a bitter sip of betrayal.

i love you, he wants to say. but he knows as soon as the words slip, so will you from his fingers. just like the last time—just like the first.

“you don’t need to take care of me,” he grunts, “i’m fine on my own.”

“on your own,” you hum in thought, as if you’re carefully taking in his words. “isn’t that lonely?” you ask softly. by now, your hand has resigned to rubbing slow circles into his chest, pulling him in closer, almost as if proving a point.

i’m right here. you’re not alone.

“no,” he says stubbornly, “i’m above needing—”

“cause sometimes i’m lonely,” you admit, cutting him off. there’s no shame in your voice, not even a trace of hurt or sadness or even hatred. instead, you smile, pressing another kiss to his shoulder, and then the crook of his neck as you murmur, “but i guess not so much when i’m with you.”

“me?”

“yeah,” you nod, resting your chin on his shoulder, cheek pressed against his, “you. cause i love you, you know?”

and once again, scaramouche realizes he’s in love. he’s been so painfully in love for so long—and he thinks you’ve known it for even longer.

and to love is to betray, he thinks—but you’re still here, still holding him tight in your arms as you smile into his skin. so he finds a little hope, a little relief, as he closes his eyes and listens to your heartbeat against his back.

after a moment, with a tight grip on your thigh and wobbly lips, he quietly whispers, “i think i love you too.”

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

Il Dottore x fem! reader

I don't know if it's obvious, but I am quite literally, down bad for this man. He is one crazy bastard, but you know what?

That's the reason why I fell in the first place.

Red cecilia - Blood, Syringes, extreme sadism.

You have been warned.

Characters in the story include : Il Dottore, Fatui agents.

Story is under the cut.

The screams and cries of a man echoed in the hallways of the building. You silently walked around the chilly corridors, watching the snow fall from the windows.

From what you have recalled, the mad Scientist had no Fatui agents patrolling this building. Said building was his property, which he used to conduct experiments. He didn't allow agents from the Fatui to stroll or patrol around it, for he hates having people possibly disturb him when Dottore works with his 'patients'. With the snow falling so peacefully, and the corridors empty and dark...you were right.

A creak of light passes through the cracks of the door, the light spreading to the floor and walls of the corridor. You could clearly hear his patient, who you assumed was tied on the table, screaming and begging for help.

"No..no! Please!" The voice cried. The please echoed in your ears your face blank as the screams grew louder.

You sighed, grabbing the handle and opening the door. As you expected, Dottore had emptied the contents of the syringe into the poor man's veins.

"You're so cruel", you said, leaning on the door, staring at the rather...insane doctor in front of you, his smirk dancing on his face. Though you cannot see his eyes, you can tell he was amused by your words. He watched as the man beneath him withered and grunted, the vein Dottore punctured was bleeding from the table to the floor. He watched as his patient's life slowly slid off his hands, before taking another syringe and injecting it onto his patient's neck.

Suddenly, all the effects of his previous 'medication' completely disappeared. The patient finally takes a breather after what seemed to be excruciating pain. His body was limp. The patient must have been unconscious.

Dottore merely chuckled at the sight. "It's wonderful isn't it?" He asked, looking at you while his hands pointed to the spot beside him. You nod, walking down the room to stand beside the scientist, his hand quickly finds itself on your waist. "I finally found a way to revive humans who are infected with any type of incurable virus."

You raised your eyebrow, watching how he puts the syringe down. Dottore now has his full attention to you, pulling down the mask that was hiding his beautiful ruby eyes..

"What exactly did you inject into your patient's arm, doctor?" You asked, looking at the small bottle that had no label. "That's definitely not something you'll find in my office."

Dottore brushes the hair off his face, chuckling, "It's a booster for rabies. The virus spreads ten times faster, so our patient over here experienced the third stage of it." He explained, his hands traveling down your waist.

"I suppose you used my formula in making such a strong dose of rabies", you said. By now the man has regained consciousness, his eyes wandering around the room before it lands on your figure.

Without even noticing the firm grip Dottore had on your waist, the man immediately begged you to set him free, how he was tortured in the lab he calls a hellhole for hours on end, how he was innocent and-

"Innocent?" You asked, tilting your head, sliding out of Dottore's grasp and slowly walking to the man, "Well, whatever do you mean? I visited the lab because I wanted to see how badly this Doctor has treated you."

You bent down to see his eyes shake in fear, your smile unwavering. You were mad. You were as mad as the scientist behind you, who's glaring at him so menacingly, observing him, like how a predator looks at his prey.

"Pantalone told me that Dottore was in charge of helping you pay for the money you borrowed from the bank. Of course, as his lovely assistant, I should join in the fun."

You got up, and opened a fresh, clean syringe, grabbing the bottle of potassium from the neatly organized shelves (much to anyone's surprise, Dottore keeps his things in order), looking at your lover as he nods.

"Now be a good boy and take what your doctor prescribes you, alright?"

Il Dottore x Reader

The Fall of Icarus Chapter 1 - An unexpected letter

Summary: While being a student in the prestigious Sumeru Academy, the reader begins to form a weird friendship with the genius student Zandik, only to then lose said friendship due to his banishment. Years later a rogue letter finds its way to their report-file desk.

The gender of the reader is not specified.

(Minor spoilers for Dottore’s identity ig)// Word count: 2066

Notes: I am quite tired of the constant fics where the Reader happens to not be at a similar intellectual level as Dottore… Do not get me wrong I understand that it could be quite intimidating since the guy is quite literally a genius, but I always wondered how different his common behavior and developing intellect would have been during his Academia years…

Chapter 2

{No beta we die like Zandik’s grades}

People like Dottore are usually blessed with what I call an Imaginative Genius, he is inventive and curious in nature but that is not all you need in order to excel in an Academic environment. Any undergrad level Science student will complain to you about obligatory courses that range from boring classes on how to write an adequate lab report, to mind draining mathematics units that you have to take in order to graduate but most probably will never need in your actual profession.

Dottore is a genius, yes, but he is also impatient and insatiable, and those are the traits that led him to his unlabeled relationship with you…

Afficher davantage

Delivery girl.

synopsis: you’re the cute delivery girl they have a crush on.

character(s): hu tao, yae, ei (seperate).

warning(s): suggestive flirting (yae).

note(s): female reader, second POV, modern AU.

P.S: this prompt was inspired by my hunger and overwhelming desire to order food at 11 pm.

—mod angel 🎐

Afficher davantage

Kissing them in the middle of a sentence

Featuring: Albedo, Diluc, Eula, Fischl, Mona, Venti

Genre: Fluff

A/N: First Genshin post

A light pink hue extends across his face as he recovers his breath. One moment he was talking about his latest, the next, his breath was quite literally taken from him. He felt a smile adorn his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Might we try that again? For research purposes, I assure you.” You indulge the alchemist, warning a content sigh as he looked at you with a loving expression.

. . .

Sputtering and stammering, the bartender turned the shade of his hair. You never failed to catch him off guard, savoring his shocked reactions. It was quite the treat. He caressed your cheek softly, before pulling you in a second time. This time, initiating it on his own.

“I truly to love you, thank you for this.” You knew he didn’t just mean the kiss. He meant small moments like this, where you let him be vulnerable. Where you let him show his true colors. Even the colors of blush.

. . .

You shocked your girlfriend silent. She just brought her fingers up to her lips, before huffing lightly. She reckoned she should scold you for interrupting her, after all, it’s proper etiquette to wait your turn. And yet, she meekly pulled you close to her.

“Mark my words, I will have vengeance.” You could only smile at her empty threat. She adored you. She knew it, you knew it, everyone did. She was yours and you were hers.

. . .

She silently thanked the fact that Oz had given you two privacy, because there was no way he’d let her live down how flustered she was. Unable to form coherent words, she just rested her head in the crook of your neck, hiding from your eyes.

“I— Y/N!” Her weak objection sounded more like a whine at being ambushed in such a manner. She acted annoyed, but the blond definitely planned to tell Mona.

. . .

Mona brushed your affection off, claiming she foresaw this outcome. Still, she hid her cheeks from your gaze, ensuring you couldn’t see them flaring pink. She was still annoyed you interrupted her, but the kiss was still engraved in her astrological mind.

“Oh my, you could’ve just asked. Not to worry, I already saw this in the stars.” Kiss her again, just to mess with her. Her cheeks will puff out in a pout at being caught my surprise.

. . .

Venti best you to the punch, leaning in to kiss you just as you were about to go for him. He giggled wickedly at your shocked expression. He adored that expression you had when you were surprised. He found it adorable.

“Oh ho! Thought you’d get me, didn’t you? What a shame, I know you too well.” You can fry as you might, the god of wind was simply too skilled in catching your lips.

🍀 with selfaware!jamil finding his way out to a reader who loves him? poor boy needs some comfort

ANONNIE YOU SLAY ME 😭😭😭😭 HE NEEDS LOVE PLEASE

Disclaimer: This is a deviation from the planned plot of the Self Aware AU. It has spoilers for content that has been revealed, but not yet written at the time this post is published. If you want to know beforehand the events mentioned, look at this and this post before reading.

CW: mentions of traumatizing events, cults

Life was hard. You knew that better than anyone. Work, day in and day out, defined you, and you were sick of it. It was like everyone saw you as a welcome mat, pushing you to your limits and hardly even remembering your name in return.

In your fleeting moments of respite, you had once turned to the familiar worlds of the movies that has made up your childhood, but now that interest had taken on a new form. Twisted Wonderland, your new favorite game, which had in it Jamil Viper, your new favorite character. He was on your homescreen, he showed up when you logged in more than any other character, and it was him who seemed to have the most comforting dialogue out of all the others. Jamil's determination to undermine the one who kept him prisoner all his life while still keeping himself out of notice resonated with you deeper than you knew.

And you resonated with him.

The warmth of your love was overpowering. His heart could barely take just how much love and attention and pure understanding was poured into it. You knew him, not only at his best, or when he allows himself to be overshadowed, or at his worst, but all of him. You knew how much he hated bugs, how he used to evade his mother's wrath by hiding in pots, how much the pain of minimizing himself at every opportunity has become so commonplace that it had faded.

You were away now, off slaving away at whatever it was that had demanded your attention, and so was he. It was simply another day under the watch of this insufferable cult. The love you had given him came with its price when the script was not there to shield him. Raw, writhing envy clouded the gazes of his classmates, directing hateful glares in his direction. Sometimes, their eyes bore into his soul with fathomless, hollow expressions that carved a deep feeling of unease into him. Even Kalim, who Jamil had once known not to have a single jealous bone in his body, now did not speak to him without being first spoken to. The red in his eyes that had always reminded Jamil of the vibrant silks of home in years past now did not seem stained with dye, but with fresh blood.

He was not safe here.

He could not take it anymore.

He had to get out.

The ritual is today.

Jamil had been packing for days, everything he had considered essentials was tucked away in a magical backpack that he had enchanted himself. It was easy to hide, far deeper than it was on the outside, and magically connected to his pockets. He had everything he thought he would need, a spare broomstick, potion ingredients, a few completed potions, grimoires, food, water, first aid kit, nondescript clothing, and multiple handfuls of expensive gemstones and jewelery from the hidden crevices of the treasure hoard for anything else he might need. He did not know if magic would work in this new world, or if he would even get there, but now was the time where he not only could demonstrate his potential, but had to.

There was still room in the bag. All the essentials that he did not need on hand daily were packed and secure, and Jamil considered what else he could take with him. If this was truly his last day in the world he was born from, he would at least like to take the good with him, and maybe show it to you.

A picture of his family, a few of his favorite CDs, his headphones, a box of his favorite tea, some of the most comfortable pillows, a few of his favorite books, and his dancing shoes.

As Jamil looked around his room, he realized just how little he had allowed himself to get attached to here. With those few things removed, the space looked almost barren. His heart squeezed as he noticed just how much freedom he would have if he made it to the other side. Freedom to express himself, to push his limits instead of hide them, to love you, to love himself. Every morning he would wake up for him, and if everything went right, with you by his side.

It seemed almost impossible, but now was not the time to get cynical. He had to let himself believe, he had to. Jamil would either successfully get out or die trying, and either was better than being here.

Jamil heard a lone pair of footsteps come down the hall, and he froze to listen. The ritual would be happening today, and he could not miss it. The chatter between the members of the cult was easy to decipher, and though he had been thoroughly excluded from it due to how much the player preferred him, he had long since figured out what they were plotting. He would be a fool if he neglected to use Snake Whisper to his advantage, especially now that it was a matter of your safety.

He waited for the footsteps to pass from the door far enough, then quickly moved to peek through the door. He saw a glimpse of shoulder-length orange hair, and knew immediately that it was one of the cultists. Cater, he remembered his name being, and he was headed towards Kalim's room. Normally, he would have stopped him, but he knew what it was for, and what would likely happen to him should he interfere.

Jamil quickly hid the backpack in his closet as the footsteps returned, now accompanied by a second pair. The two stopped directly in front of his door, and his heartbeat quickened. The door handle moved just the slightest bit, before a hushed voice that was too quiet for him to decipher whose it was seemed to discourage it. The handle shifted back, and the jangling of a key ring was heard before the telltale sound of a lock could be heard.

" Kalim?" he called from the other side, injecting a fear he did not feel into his voice, " what are you doing?"

The pair walked away wordlessly, and Jamil tried pushing against the doors, knowing full well it wouldn't work. He tried remembering which pocket of the backpack he had put the vial with the alloy in as he gave a few final pounds against the door with his fist. He stepped away from the door, having made a show of being trapped, and now was the time to work on his escape.

Jamil rummaged through the backpack for the vials and bottles of potions for the right substance, pulling out one with a distinctive velvet-colored liquid that had a metallic sheen. He went over to the window, paned only with intricate gold filigree, and pulled the collar of his dorm uniform up over his mouth and nose as he uncorked the vial. Small drops of the liquid were cautiously doled out along the perimeter of the filigree, melting the gold that prevented his escape until he was able to grab hold and pull. The process was nerve-wrackingly slow, but eventually the panel came out without much struggle, and Jamil tossed it aside.

He corked the now-empty vial, reaching to put it back in the bag and retrieve his broomstick in exchange. He zipped it up, slung it over his shoulders, and walked to the other side of the room. Jamil squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, shoved his screaming doubts to the back of his mind, and pushed off, running towards the open escape route to build up momentum, broom in hand.

In seconds, he was running, stepping up onto the table, then the windowsill, and throwing himself from its ledge out into the air. And for the barest few moments, he considered, just for a little while, simply falling. Simply just... letting go of the broomstick and allowing himself to fall all those stories down... down... down... down... down... down... until everything went black and there was no pain, no need to escape, no more days where he felt overworked and underappreciated, no more sleepless nights, no more hiding.

Jamil closed his eyes as the ground got closer and closer...

And in one fluid motion, was atop the broomstick, pulling up just a bare few feet off the ground, and shooting off into the hot desert sky. It didn't matter if he didn't make it, if the connection between the worlds was too unstable to support his crossing, he would never let that filthy cult get their hands on you. He would see you every day until his last, even if that day was today. No doubt in his mind could dissuade him from his path of war as he soared at top speed towards the mirror.

Hellfire, thy name is Jamil Viper.

Jamil shot out into the mirror hall, students ducking and dodging out of the way with cries that were immediately swallowed up by the winds. Reaching into his pocket as he curved his path sharply to head for the school, he began the spell once he felt the pen in his hand. A flaming orange barrier swirled to life around him and the broom, leaving a trail in the air like the tail of a raging comet. Frantically looking over the school's spiralling towers, his sights locked on the very tallest.

The mirror room.

It only made sense. He could almost feel the dark magic pulsing from it, beckoning him closer to stamp it out at its roots. The tallest tower of the castle, clawing at the heavens, almost as if to peirce the glass above, the only thing keeping them separated from the player. As Jamil neared the building, he could see something on the balcony through the spiralling magic. It was gray, white, and blue, and as he got nearer, he could see its tiny frame. The familiar shape of the flaming ears was clear for just long enough that Jamil could see it.

It was the Prefect's sidekick, lifting himself onto the railing with his little front paws, completely split open from the forehead to the stomach, his shell hollow.

The circle of blood red candles and shining rose quartz was surrounded by all of its creators, each gaze transfixed on the open makeshift coffin they had made in its center. The coffin was pitch black with intricate gold patterns that elegantly framed a lock and mirror. Circled by broomsticks, purple gemstones, and shards of shattered glass, it was surely a sight to see. Inside the coffin was the bound form of the Prefect, with one single black key laid upon their unmoving chest with their tied hands laid over it. White flowers of purity and innocence in love were laid beside them, making it almost look as if they were dead.

But the lifeless cannot die.

The mirror room shone with ominous light as the dark mirror dripped splattered blood out into the tranquil fountain of water below it. Seven hollow shells of faceless students were laid out along the edge of the circle, half-open to reveal the purple silhouettes that had been encased inside of them to hide their identities. The silhouettes bled out from inside their prisons of skin that did not belong to them, each impaled by a shard of glass from the mirror itself.

Malleus Draconia, at the head of the ritual, extended his arms out towards the black coffin, followed by those that surrounded him. It slammed shut, beginning to rise from the floor. His voice, echoing powerfully through the mirror hall, commanded " You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth..."

The others raised their voices as sparks of all colors began to fly frantically, pulling themselves together into the shape of a golden key as they spoke in unison.

" REVEAL UNTO ME THE NATURE OF YOUR SOUL!"

The coffin rose higher as the key sped towards the lock, pushing itself in and turning with a resounding click. The black lid began to open, and a golden, almost heavenly light began to pour out from it. It swirled in place, forming a perfect swirling portal.

" Yes... YES!" the dragon fae roared in triumph, " GO! Bring them to me!"

And just as they were about to surge into the open portal, the shattering of glass stopped them dead in their tracks. It was Jamil, arms shielding his face in the barest seconds it took for the magic around the broom to begin detonating. The force of the magic blast knocked some of them off their feet, crying out in shock and surprise. The Scarabia vice housewarden made a dive for the portal, bracing himself against his broomstick as hard as he could.

He could make it, he could make it, he could make it, he could make it, he could make it, he could make it, he could make it, he could make it, he could make it to the other side, he could see your face, he could hold you close, he could hear your voice, he could survive.

Plummeting through the brightness, the wrath of the draconic cult leader fading rapidly behind him, Jamil shut his eyes. He was suddenly hit with a sudden shift in direction, slipping off his broom as the feeling like he was being pulled upwards overtook him. Panic overtook his senses as he was swung around wildly by the current of the portal, terrified of what would be next for him.

You had already long been stirred from your sleep, hearing distant sounds of faint voices coming from your phone, and having felt how it was scalding to the touch. The screen had turned white, and was vibrating off the hook. Your back was against the wall, desk lamp firmly pointed at the device like a weapon.

Suddenly, out of what seemed to be thin air, something appeared in your bedroom, flinging itself and two other objects from where your phone had been to the floor in front of you with a grunt of pain as it landed heavily. You suppressed the scream that built up in your throat as the figure sat up, revealing itself to be quite person-shaped. The strange intruder looked back at where they came from, quickly moving to shut off the phone before you could protest.

As the screen went dark and the vibrations ceased, Jamil stopped. He let out a ragged breath he didn't realize he was holding in, and knew he just had to stop and let everything sink in and-

" W-Who the hell are you?!?" you demanded, eyes wide and still against the wall.

Jamil whirled around, hands raised in surrender, his black eyes catching on yours. And, for a moment, all he could do was stare. It was... you. The player. The person who loved and understood him most, the person who he had endured these days of struggle for, the person who he had crossed the boundaries of reality for.

It worked.

It worked.

Jamil had to take a few seconds to find his voice, the budding emotions swirling in his chest, " I... I did it... It worked..." he lowered his hands, a smile starting to form on his face as a faint laugh escaped him, " I-I'm here! With you! It's me!!"

Your expression went slack, your brain trying to wrap around exactly what was going on here. You were playing the game, fell asleep, were woken up by your phone going haywire, and then your favorite character apparently flew out of the screen and was standing directly in front of you. Apparently, your hands had gone slack as well, and you dropped your weaponized desk lamp, the sound of it hitting the floor making both of you jump.

And, for a few moments, you and Jamil just stared at it. Silence overtook the room, stilted and thick, until a sound cut through the darkness. A poorly contained laugh, soft and clearly one of nervousness. One led to another in response, until both were doubled over, just laughing together.

" Why did that scare me so bad? I'm just dreaming..." you managed to say, a certain sadness settling into your eyes. You looked at him, that sadness settling deeper. Jamil had stopped laughing once he heard you speak, his black eyes baring into your own. Not in search of something, not to use his power, but purely in sheer, overwhelming adoration. You were here, in front of him, looking directly at him, not through a screen, but at him.

" I guess, since it's a dream, I might as well..." you said softly. At first he felt a bit of confusion, might as well what? His question was almost immediately answered, however, by you quickly moving to wrap your arms around him. Jamil's body became stiff as a board, eyes wide, since this was one of the last things he expected. He blinked, trying to process everything that was happening right now, and what would never happen again.

You felt his chest heave with the beginnings of a sob and gently gave him a squeeze, feeling the distraught boy cling to you with all he had. He made a strangled sound, like he was about to truly start crying, but took a sharp breath in to stop it. It was a heartbreaking sound, especially coming from someone so deprived and repressed, and it made you pull back to look him in the eyes. Something about how he tried immediately to hide his face made you think that this was far from a dream, but that was something you didn't want to unpack right now, so you just focused on comforting him.

" Jamil," you said softly, " It's okay. Let's get to bed, alright?"

Jamil sniffled, and you took his hand in yours to lead him to the bed. Pulling up the covers and getting in, you waited for him to do the same. He took off his shoes and backpack before awkwardly making his way to your side, looking at you like a sad puppy. You smiled softly, gently moving his hair aside to place a kiss on his forehead. His face heated up, and he hid his face with his hands again. You patted the spot next to you and asked in a whisper, " Do you want to cuddle?"

He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head no. It was all too much right now, he wasn't sure he would be able to take it.

You looked sad for only the barest second, but said " Alright, I won't make you," and got yourself comfortable, " Good night. <3"

But, before you drifted off, you held one of his hands again, rubbing the pad of your thumb over his knuckles to soothe him. He was surprised at first, but didn't pull away. And, slowly but surely, it seemed to take effect. He fell asleep, his face still feeling warm, and soon you did too.

What a nice dream this is...

You awoke to the smell of curry and an empty bed, sleepily smiling. Your neighbors must be cooking, it smells really good, too. You got up out of bed, not registering the second patch of leftover warmth that had been very close to yours. Walking out of the bedroom, it turned out the smell of curry and the sounds of cooking were coming from your kitchen, which was a VERY alarming realization. Thinking someone had broken into your house and started cooking, of all things, you rushed to go see who it was.

Jamil nearly jumped out of his shell when you rounded the corner in a panic, whirling around to look at you. Both of you stared at each other with wide eyes, unsure of what to do but still scared witless.

" Y-You... YOU'RE REAL?!?"

" YES?"

" THAT WASN'T A DREAM?!?"

" YES??"

" YOU'RE REAL?!?!?"

" YES!"

Thoroughly blindsided by this turn of events, you gripped the side of the counter for support, trying to process it. Jamil tentatively stepped closer to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. There was one thought coursing through your brain right now, blaring like a siren.

You had Jamil Viper in your bed.

This boy, who was not even supposed to be on the same plane of existence as you, let alone in the same room, had been crying and sleeping and holding your hand in your bed.

" W-Wait, why are you here? How did you even get here?" you asked, genuinely confused.

" That... requires a LOT of explaining, and the curry is almost finished. I'll go over it when we start eating," he said simply. You just nodded and moved to get out some plates and silverware for him, but stopped when you realized that he had already done it. Come to think of it, he was already completely ready for the day. Hair done, makeup, fully dressed in clothes you had never seen him in before, and meanwhile you had literally just rolled out of bed.

But still, you didn't want to just leave it to him, so you grabbed some cups and asked " Do you want something to drink?"

" I've already had something. You can sit down while I get this plated," he said dismissively.

You pouted, knowing how hard he works.  Having half a mind to just grab the pan yourself, you huffed " Jamiiil, I just want to help you! I'll plate it, just go to the table."

At first, he looked at you in surprise, but his eyes softened as he gave you a nod and walked over to the table, leaving you to do the rest. You happily scooped the rice and curry onto the plates, taking them over to Jamil to give him his food and sit down.

" Thank you," he said softly, his expression sweetened with a bit of softness in his eyes and smile. You smiled back at him, sending a burst of warmth into him that manifested as a blush. The two of you started eating, and seeing your eyes light up from the taste of his cooking almost made the poor boy keel over on the spot from how cute it was.

About halfway through, what he had said before began to haunt your brain again, and you looked up from your plate. You decided that it was time to pry, since he said he would tell you.

" ...Jamil?"

" Mmh?" he replied, mouth half-full of curry and looking like a deer in headlights.

" Why- well actually I'm more interested in the how, but just... You're here. How? Why?" you had stumbled a bit, but you trusted him to understand your confusion.

He swallowed, averting his gaze as he thought about how best to explain it. Jamil looked back at you, " It's a long story, but we were alive in the game. We weren't aware that we were actually in a game, though. Not until something happened that forced us to become aware, but it happened differently for each of us."

" Wait, we? It wasn't just you?"

" Anybody with eyes you can see," he explained.

" Then what happened to you?" you asked. It was a harmless question, but you saw his expression darken and his gaze become distant.

" Something very painful," he stated blankly, " And I'm glad I never forgave them. I wouldn't be here with you otherwise."

His eyes softened as he said the last part, but you were incredibly worried. Jamil moved his hand closer to yours, and when he hesitated, you gently grabbed it, " They hurt you?"

He wrapped his other hand around yours and shook his head, " It doesn't matter anymore. You're safe now, I'm free, and that's all I care about," he said. You had a million other questions swimming around in your head, but Jamil let go of your hand, " We'll talk more about it later, but you should finish eating before it gets cold."

You hesitated, but gave a relenting nod and turned to eat again. It gave you time to mull over your questions and the answers you got, some sending a shudder up your spine and making you swallow hard. It scared you to think of what could possibly have happened to Jamil while he was in the game, and the implication of you only being safe now. You felt something on your shoulder, looking over to see Jamil standing beside you, empty plate in hand, as he tried to give you a little bit of comfort.

You leaned into his touch, still not fully comprehending any of what was going on, but glad that at least it was the character you loved the most that turned out to apparently be alive and able to come into reality. It made you wonder...

Did he know? Did he love you too?

And where were you going to hide that Aladdin disk before he finds out and has an existential crisis?

~JAMIL VIPER: LOVERS END~

Aranara Mafia AU

-> Part 6

A bright green envelopes Zhongli as his polearm gets strapped away. He then feels a force punch his stomach, so he crouches on the ground, in a bow.

He then feels the force slowly go away, finally being able to raise his head and look at Arama's face.

Despite the permanent ":]", anger could visibly be seen on Arama's face.

Zhongli then turns his head towards the "Impostor", whose face looked at him with absolute displeasure and annoyance.

He then asked:

"'What do you mean, the world won't hesitate to punish me..? Are you cabbages blind? That's clearly an Impostor of the Creator, they haven't descended ever since the Archon war-"

As soon as he finished his sentence, he felt a kick to the jaw and fell on the ground.

"Thank you, Big Boss of the forest no. 2, now please put Arabalika down."

Nahida puts Arabalika down as he walks back to his home.

Venti and Ei look at Zhongli in horror, completely flabbergasted.

They probably shat themselves.

Venti tries poking Zhongli with a stick, but he doesn't wake up... till 30 minutes after

And yes, Arabalika did kick Zhongli in the jaw

That part was inspired by a comic I saw :]

-> Pt. 6.5

-> Pt. 7

Taglist:

@lunarapple @esthelily @java-lava @dedef7890 @justasleepyboi @vvyeislazzy @leafanonsforest @yourlocaldrugdealerbutfancy @ra404 @i-need-to-touch-grassss @overlysour @m1kali @undecidingfate

I've found myself in a hole of sagau recently so here's my idea thrown into the mix.

An imposter au where the Reader is immediately able to fight back because they have their Honkai Impact 3rd characters, who could recognise them at first glance, with them.

Finding yourself trapped in the sagau imposter au would be a troubling situation for anyone. Well, anyone but you, that is.

See, the thing is, you were not only an avid player of Genshin Impact; but one of Honkai Impact 3rd too. In fact, you started playing Honkai way before Genshin came out. You were already at the max level for Honkai, unlike Genshin. What, with your captain level resting at level 88 as opposed to your adventure rank 57.

You spent more time on Honkai than you ever did on Genshin. Even your unbuilt Honkai characters could reach the damage levels your Xiao reached because of Honkai's insane damage scaling.

So even if in this world, your genshin characters forgot who you were, you knew for sure your girls had your back. They definitely remembered their captain that they would personally greet on the bridge every time you logged in.

So no, you weren't worried about the sagau imposter au.

In fact, to say you weren't worried would be a total understatement.

"Kanchō!" Kiana's, the Herrscher of Flamescion, determined hues landed on your form as she thrusted the arm of a familiar bard roughly in front of her. "Would you like us to eliminate them for daring to lay a hand on you?"

"Tut tut tut~." Elysia, the Herrscher of Human Ego, playfully smiled - although the dangerous glint in her eyes gave away her true feelings instantly. "How could they not recognise the cute, unforgettable face of our kanchō? Of course, not as cute as me~."

In her hands was the mighty geo archon himself, Zhongli.

Mei, the Herrscher of Thunder, threw her almost identical look-alike to the ground not long after. "This... 'archon' takes on my physical appearance but she is far weaker to me by comparison. Both in physical and mental fortitude."

As your Valkyries glared down at the inferior characters, said characters held their head down in shame. Not from the bitter taste of defeat, no, but rather from the feeling of disappointment in themselves for not recognising you as immediately as your other-world acolytes.

"We are deeply sorry, great creator." Zhongli's deep voice resonated through the area. "Had we known the other was a fake, we would have-."

"Ah ah ah~." Elysia raised her hand, wagging her index finger from side to side with each word she had said. "No excuses. If you can't recognise our kanchō, you aren't good enough to worship our kanchō; let alone speak to them."

Venti was trembling, his lips jutted out as tears pricked the corner of his eyes, his thoughts a complete mess.

All of your followers were horrified, disgusted in themselves for worshipping a fake this whole time, questioning their previous action and regretting ever setting out for your head.

"To have raised a sword against Kanchō," Kiana piped up once more. "It's unforgivable."

Ah yes, what happened mere moments before, when you had just arrived at the first bit of civilisation you had seen since being isekai'd. At the time, you were alone, no Valkyries keeping you company.

You had just stepped foot into Inazuma when a bright flash of lightning briefly crossed your eyes, a purple sword ready to slice you in half appearing not long after.

You didn't even have the time to register fear - luckily enough, you didn't need to. The sword was halted before it could reach you, the familiar long locks of a Valkyrie you frequently played as blocking your vision from your attacker.

"Mei?" At your call, she tossed her head back. "Wha-? What are you doing in the Genshin Impact world?"

"Keeping you safe, kanchō." She answered before swiftly returning her gaze to the front of her, heaving against the other character's sword with such strength, they were knocked back several feet, losing balance and falling over completely. "You dare make an attempt at my kanchō's life?!"

As she leapt away to go fight the Raiden Shogun, an arrow shot through the air, aiming straight at your head.

You would have been none the wiser to it had it not been for-.

"Kiana?" The white locks held up in a high ponytail belonging to the main character of Honkai Impact 3rd appeared before you. "You too?"

"Shōsa would get mad at me if I ever let anything happen to you." She gave you a gentle smile as she held the great sword her teacher once wielded with a tight grip. "I also wouldn't be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you."

With that, she was off.

Okay, so that was two attacks in a row by two archons. Surely, the third one doesn't want to-.

"Calm down, kanchō~." A familiar playful voice reached your ears. "It's just me, you're quite jumpy right now, hm~?"

"Anyone would be after being attacked twice in a row, Elysia."

Her pink, crystal eyes shone with mirth as she gave you a little giggle. "Don't worry, the most beautiful girl ever, Elysia, will make sure not a harm lays on your head."

Your own eyes crinkled with amusement at her words. "Glad to hear that, oh-so-beautiful Elysia."

She looked ready to respond when, suddenly, her expression shifted and her eyes narrowed. She quickly tugged at your wrist, pulling you behind her before she took out her bow and shot it at an angle ahead of you.

"Sorry to cut this short, kanchō. Someone seems to want to be greedy and take my attention away from you! I'll be right back~!"

You pursed your lips as she, much like all your other Valkyries, left you in pursuit of your hitman.

Just what was going on here?

"The Bronya will get to the bottom of it." You jumped upon hearing the voice with a hint of a Russian accent to it.

"Ooh! Ooh! Me too! Me too!" Another, more childish, voice spoke up.

Two more of your Herrschers seemed to have joined you.

And that all led to this moment.

"Kanchō." The deadpan voice of Bronya, the Herrscher of Reason, drew all of your attentions to her. "We have located the imposter. The Bronya wants to ask kanchō about what would be a sufficient punishment for them."

After her statement, the Herrscher of Sentience came in, very roughly throwing what looked to be like a clone of you, at your feet. "Yatta! That was so easy!"

The imposter shook with fear, their eyes trailing up slowly to meet with your cold gaze.

"So you're the one parading around as me, huh? Hmm, let's see, what would be a sufficient punishment for you?"

Kanchō is the Japanese word used to refer to the captain of a warship.

Shōsa is like lieutenant commander or major in Japanese. Kiana is talking about Himeko when she says shōsa.

I made this cuz when Genshin turns against you, at least Honkai will have your back 😌

Come get your man, come get your man!

In which someone has an obvious crush on your man

Feat: suna, nagi, ran, eren

Ignore the pairings I’m indecisive lols

SUNA RINTARO

“Hey you’re suna’s girlfriend right?” You looked up to see a girl with a stretched smile looking at you expectedly.

“Yeah, what’s up?” You asked, seeing no reason to be hostile yet.

“So nice to meet you! I sit next to him in english, you could say he’s kinda my english boyfriend,”

Oh.

You knew suna was attractive and you had a feeling this was inevitable, but that does not stop the shock of the situation.

“He told me about you, said you had a weird sense of humor,” you replied with a tight lipped smile.

‘He didn’t say that, he just said she was weird’ you thought.

“Omg so he does talk about me! It’s so weird, he like totally ignores me but it’s nice to know he talks to others about me,”

Now you were more amused than anything.

“But anyways, the reason I wanted to talk to you, girl to girl is that I think he might be into me a bit-not trying to sabotage your relationship it’s just… if it was me, I’d want someone to tell me.” She sat down next to you, putting an hand on your arm in faux comfort.

A voice called her name “what are you doing here.”

Like a deer caught in headlight, the girl stammered over her words “suna, I was just talking to your girlfriend about us.”

“There is no ‘us’” he deadpanned.

You watched amused as she accused suna of leading her on, saying how she kept borrowing pencils from her, or not moving his knee all the time when they’d touch and other absurd accusations on why he’s into her.

When she stormed off embarrassed and heartbroken, he sat next to you.

“Why did you intervene? I was having fun getting to know your english girlfriend,” you teased making him groan.

RAN HAITANI

“Omg you’re so pretty!”

Your boyfriend was on the other side of the nightclub dealing with who knows what as you smiled at the girl who had been gassing you for the past 2 minutes.

“I’m so glad stinky old ran found such a beauty like you, how did he cuff you?” She looked around as if searching for someone before leaning in close to speak over the booming music of the club.

“Just asking to check, he told you about us right?”

What us? “No he didn’t, what’s up with that?”

She sent an apologetic look. “He was here last week and we kinda…hooked up. Im not trying to be a homewrecker I just thought you should know.”

This liar, last week he had flown out with you on holiday for the week. You had arrived two days ago due to his business needing him.

But she didn’t need to know that.

“Omg no way, he’s cheating on me!” You faked hurt.

“Im sorry girl, I-“

“Why are you like this,” Your boyfriends strong groan cut into your conversation.

“Stop lying to her ran, she doesn’t deserve this! Come clean right now, you and I hooked up in that bathroom last we-“

“We weren’t in the country last week, dumbass.”

She froze and as if piecing everything together, she was about to fume at you. You knew she was lying and embarrassed her like that.

“You sly little-“

Before she could finish, ran was already pulling you away from her and leading you towards the back of the nightclub.

“I hate you by the way,” he sulked before you could even begin to poke fun at him.

NAGI SEISHIRO

You stared at your boyfriends ringing phone next to you, then back to said man who was absentmindedly clicking on his keyboard.

“Baby can you get that for me?”

You agreed, pressing accept on the incoming call from a random girls name that you’ve heard in passing from Nagi himself, nothing to be worried about, quite the opposite actually.

He keeps complaining about how she won’t leave him alone, but you defended the girl you didn’t know, saying maybe she was friendly.

Answering the call, a pretty girl sat infront of the window, neck angled so that the gold light shined on her face.

She obviously wasn’t expecting to see you, as she quickly adjusted her position to a more casual setting.

“Uhm hello, you must be sei’s friend, can you put him on the phone?” She asked, not hiding her distaste that your man wasn’t the one answering the phone.

“Girlfriend,” you corrected. “And he’s busy right now, I can get him to call you back if you want,”

She glared at you seeing you not let down. “Okay I guess. Just tell him it’s KK calling, he’ll come to me.”

You sent her a challenging look before relaying the message to the man three meters away from you nice and loud so she can hear.

“Hang up.” You saw her eyes widen and didn’t bother to hide your smile.

“What was that?” You asked.

He repeated himself, not realising she could still hear him, but before you could hang up, she had already done it, too embarrassed to face the girl who has what she wanted.

“You see what I mean now?”

EREN YEAGER

You stood in between the spread legs of your boyfriend in the party hosts kitchen as his big arms held your back to his chest. His long legs kicked the cabinets as he swung his legs, staring down the girl stood across the room.

“Why are you staring at me?” She asked giggling seductively.

“You’re being weird.”

“Whatever,” she smiled, rolling her eyes.

You fiddled with the necklace eren bought you for your anniversary, which seemed to get her attention.

“Cute chain girl,” she covered her annoyance with intrigue. “Did yeager boy here get it for you?”

You sent her a look, nodding to confirm.

“Omg that reminds me of this one time when we went on holiday together, you remember that ‘ren? When you bought me that cute set?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

You knew exactly what she was doing and it wasn’t going to work. It’s such a shame she had to act like this too, she was pretty, you’ll admit.

You trusted your man, he gave you a head up about the girl who leeched on to him, warning you about all the lies and deception she would try to drill in your mind.

“That was back in Spain right? He bought a extras while looking for this one right?” You smiled at her innocently.

“Wowwww, you told her about me eren? I’m so flattered” if she was pissed, and you knew she was, she didn’t show it.

“Mhm he told me all about you, about how you leech on to him at any chance you get.”

She let out loud, forced laughter “she’s a funny one yeager, make sure you keep a tight leash on this one.” She looked at you and you swore you saw her eye twitch.

The pair of you stayed silent as you watched her aggressively walk back towards the party.

“You’re better than me you know, if any of your guy friends started to act like that I would’ve beat his ass,”

You chuckled, turning in his hold to face him. “Good thing you were holding me because one more second and I would have.”

God he was so in love with you.

PRINCE CHARMING'S KISS. dormleaders

Synopsis: A potionology accident involving the ADeuce duo leads to the prefect falling into a deep sleep. Only an act of true love's kiss can save them and it seems that the duo has picked a certain boy to play Prince Charming.

Character/s: Dormleaders x GN! Reader

Tags: Fluff! Papa Crewel doesn't seem too happy, Cauldrons, Tomato Riddle, Azul tries to get engaged, Kalim bawling his eyes out, Soft Vil, Idia is about to pop a vein, Malleus throws a lamp at Lilia and it's deserved

Word Count: 4k+ | 💌Masterlist | 💬AO3 link

"I SUMMON THEE, CAULDRON!"

"Deuce! No! I asked you to grab one not-" Before you could stop him, the cauldron already smashed against the pot atop your desk, flinging all the contents of the pink bubbling potion all over you.

"You dumbass! They said grab one, not summon one!" Ace hissed, throwing a towel over your soaked form. "Shit. We need to get them to Professor Crewel and — Oi, Prefect!?"

You fell forward, falling limp in Ace's arms as you both tumbled to the floor. Panicked, Ace was quick to push you onto your back, slapping your cheek and shaking you furiously. "Wake up!"

"W-What happened?" Deuce ran towards you two, guilt pooling in his stomach. His blood ran cold with fear once he saw just how pale and cold your face had turned. "Are they dead?!"

"No. It's not that strong of a potion." Crewel sighed, striding towards the two morons with a venomous scowl on his lips.

Leaning down, your adoptive-father gingerly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. All previous ire he exhibited seemingly melting away. "Oh darling, I have no idea why you chose these two strays as friends…"

"Once again, you've brought my pup to harm with your incompetence." The professor stood up straight once again, his stern gaze fixed on the two youngsters.

"Nonetheless, I think this will be a valuable learning experience for the two of you." Crewel said, grabbing a thick aged book from a nearby shelf and thrusting it into Ace's arms.

"That book there contains the instructions to brew the cure."

"D-Do we have to make the- uff-" Deuce coughed, unintentionally breathing in a cloud of dust released by the old book. "-cure ourselves?"

Crewel drew his eyebrows up to his hairline, jaw dropped in disbelief. "Seven's no! I'll be making the cure myself; I have zero faith in you two."

"You two are to write a 10,000 word long report about the potion and I expect it on my desk by tomorrow." The professor pressed a boney finger against the cover, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, and I trust that you'll keep my pup safe. You know the consequences if I find even a single hair missing from their head." The two watched helplessly as Crewel walked away, his sharp heels clicking against the floor.

"Man. What's with him." Ace grumbled, flinging the book at Deuce who easily caught it with one hand.

"Deuce, what'cha say we just head to Ramshackle?" Ace hummed, nudging your unconscious form with his foot. He hadn't even bothered with picking you up. Opting to just leave you sprawled out on the cold tiles.

Ace was truly the most friend ever.

"Interesting…" Deuce muttered, clasping a hand around his chin. Ace raised his brow, peeking over his friend's shoulder to read the text on the yellowed pages.

"One of the cures listed here is…"

R.R | RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

"A True Love's Kiss…?" Riddle trailed off before scowling at his two dorm members. Just what sort of shenanigans were they pulling now?

He lowered his teacup slowly while frowning and blinking incoherently. "Could this be another one of your pitiful attempts at a joke?"

"Why the hell would we joke about his?" Ace whined.

Riddle shook his head, walking over to your unconscious form draped over Deuce's shoulder like a stack of potatoes. Checking your temperature, he pressed his hand against your forehead and tsk'd at the heat.

For a split second, his eyes briefly wandered over to your lips.

What if…

Snapping out of it, Riddle stepped back with his burning pink cheeks.

"What utter nonsense. Hand me that book, I can brew the potion myself." Riddle said, pulling his gloves off before he then motioned for Deuce to pass him the book.

"Ah yeah…about that-" Ace chuckled, folding his arms behind his head. "Crewel didn't allow any of us to make the cure…so you're kinda our only hope."

The part where Crewel promised to produce the cure was purposefully left out by Ace. In truth, there really was no reason for Riddle to kiss you other than to serve as Ace's entertainment but hush now Riddle didn't have to know that.

"Well them, pray tell, what makes you think I should take the role of Prince Charming? "

"You get that disgusting dopey look on your face when you see them." Ace smirked.

"I-I do not!" Riddle shouted, face turning a deep cherry-red. Ace laughed, pointing at Riddle's flushed cheeks. "See?! You're turning into a tomato!"

"How are we certain that they even like me back?!"

"Ugh! Stop being a coward! You'll never know if you don't try!"

They began arguing anew, flinging insult after insult at one other. Deuce sighs and places you down on the couch in the lounge. He knew that if they continued their screaming, nothing would be done. It's was time he took things into his own hands.

Deuce grabs Riddle by the arm, dragging him towards you. The redhead turns to him, demanding the first-year to let go but Deuce only shakes his head. "I'm sorry house warden, I'll bear the brunt of your punishment later but I need to fix what I did."

"No-! W-Wait-" Riddle sputters, digging his feet into the ground. "I-I can't possibly-How unconsensual!-"

"Whoops!" Ace seizes the opportunity to shove the redhead forward, causing his lips to meet with yours.

"?!" Riddle stills for a few seconds, his calloused palms resting on your cheeks. Peering at you through shaky lashes, Riddle snaps out of his lovesick stupor and jolts back. His face blooming into an even deeper red than thought possible.

"R..iddle…?" His heart hammers against his ribcage as you flutter your eyes open, blinking up at him. The press and warmth of your lips still remained and a million of thoughts raced through his head. One of them seemed to echo louder than the rest.

At his lips’ touch you blossomed like a rose and the cure was complete, bringing the enchantment to an end. He was your 'True Love'?

Riddle hesitantly cradled your body, assisting you in sitting up. He coughed, averting his eyes to the ground, unable to meet yours.

"I apologize for the unsolicited kiss however, seeing as how my feelings are returned." He turned to you, clasping your hand tight in his. "I would like to court you properly. H-How does lunch tomorrow at noon sound?"

L.K | LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

"…so that's why I dumped them onto ya' bed." Ruggie yawned, extending his arms over his head.

There you were, curled up against Leona's king-sized bed, clutching one of his pillows tight in your arms. Blissfully oblivious to the fact that your friends abandoned you, placing you in the clutches of a hyena and at the mercy of a lion.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"So, since Leona's a prince and all, that 'True Love Kiss' stuff could totally work with him, right?" Ace grinned, placing his hands on his hips. "I've read 'bout it in fairy tales all the time! The prince kisses the girl and boom!"

"How'd desperate are ya' to go running to Leona for help?" Ruggie sniggered, grabbing a handful of dry clothes off of the clothesline.

Really, it was both pitiful and humorous at the same time. The two chose to cast the irritable, hot-headed lion as the Prince Charming in their decrepit fairy tale.

Let's be honest, when you hear the term "charming," the first thing that came to mind was not Leona Kingscholar.

Adjusting the laundry basket, he propped it against his hip, Ruggie tapped his chin and pondered. "I can help but it'll come with a price…"

Deuce rushed forward, shoving a box of donuts into Ruggie's free hand. "Will this cover it?!"

Whistling, Ruggie flicked the box open. His eyes gleamed seeing all the tooth-rotting pastries heaped atop each other.

A sly grin stretched across his face.

"Deal."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

After Ace and Deuce handed you over to Ruggie, the hyena unceremoniously barged into Leona's room and all but threw you onto the bed.

"True Love's Kiss? Do those things even exist?" Leona scoffed, tossing a blanket over your form. Ruggie shrugged, heading out of Leona's room. "Dunno but since you two like each other, I figured you would wanna help."

Leona rolled his eyes, glancing at you. Your face was shoved against the pillow, a leg hooked over it. Well, by the looks of it, you seemed pretty comfortable. There was no harm in letting you stay for a bit.

"Shihshishi good luck on your love life." Ruggie grinned, sending Leona a thumbs up before slamming the door close.

"Damn hyena…" Leona grumbled, plopping down next to your sleeping body. His gaze poured over your skin, gliding across the contour of your jawline before settling on your lips. Leona softly pushed down on your lips with his thumb, parting them ever so slightly.

"So, you need a True Love's Kiss…" Leona whispered, leaning in, eyes fluttering close. "I better be the only one, herbivore."

His lips pressed firmly against yours, a hand propped under your chin to keep your head up. The kiss was unusually delicate and tender for someone of his nature, such a stark contrast to his gruff personality. Leona moved closer and his hair fell over his shoulders, chestnut locks draping across your chest. Within a few minutes, Leona drew back to see if you had awakened.

You stirred, bleary eyes blinking open and he smirked. Pride swelled in his chest as he leaned down to kiss you again, his tail curling around your waist.

"You're all mine, huh?"

A.A | AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

"Man, just how strong are you eels?!" Ace growled, banging his fists against Floyd's back. Both of the Heartslabyul boys were slung over Floyd's shoulder, his grip on them tight and unfaltering.

Beside him, Deuce was kicking around, trying (and failing) to get the merman's grip on him to loosen. Suddenly, one of Deuce's kicks hit Floyd square in the jaw and the eel growled.

"Neh~ Squirm around some more and I'll snap both of your legs off." Floyd grinned, his bright sharp teeth on full display. Although hesitant, the threat seemed to work as the two boys stilled, not wishing to lose their ability to walk any time soon.

"Now, Floyd, there's no need for such aggression." Jade chuckled as he approached the group with you in his arms. Unlike Floyd's manhandling, you were carried in a firm bridal carry, treated as if you were a precious piece of china or rather…an offering.

"We just got word on the prefect's condition." Jade shut his eyes, placing a hand against his chest in faux sympathy. "How unfortunate that they've succumbed to such a fate. However, lucky for you we found a solution."

"Ya need a Prince Charming right~? Well, let's have Azul do it!" Floyd cheered, slamming the two boys down onto the ground. Ace groaned, cradling his back and squinting at the tweels. "You think you can drag me into another one of those contracts?! I'm not stupid!"

"Oh, you're mistaken. This one is free of charge, no strings attached." Jade chuckled.

"Yeah…I don't really believe that." Deuce muttered.

"Why're you so damn stubborn?! Can't we just hand shrimpy to Azul? I'm sick of seeing him makin' those dumb goo goo eyes." Floyd whined.

The eel yanked you from Jade's arms and stomped up to Azul's office. He kicked the door down, nearly knocking it off its hinges.

Jolting, Azul accidentally spilled ink all over his papers; The delicate fine print he spend hours painstakingy writing by hand dissolving into large blots of ink. His eye twitched as he grit his teeth, snapping his head up to meet Floyd's gaze.

"Floyd. What in the great seven's are you-?!" Azul was cut off when the eel plopped your dozing body onto his lap. It took the octo-mer a few seconds before he registered just what happened, cheeks burning a bright crimson when he realized you were pressed up snug against his chest.

"It's your lucky day, Azul~! You get to play Prince Charming!" Floyd sang as he made his way to the door. "Shrimpy here got cursed because of Mackerel and Crab so now you have to kiss them!"

Kiss…? Azul's mind went haywire but before he could speak any further, Floyd slithered out of the room and slammed the door shut.

It's not that he doesn't believe in the cure; love is a strong thing, and he's read that it can break even the most powerful curses. Even so, how could he promise that you'd wake up?

Azul pressed a hand behind your head, trying to calm his beating heart. Did you even acknowledge his feelings?

"True Love's kiss…Well, it wouldn't hurt to try." He murmurs, raising a trembling hand to rest against your cheek. He leans down and lightly presses his lips against yours, ever so clumsy, before checking for any reactions.

Azul stares down on your drowsy body as your eyes flicker open. He stares at you owlishly before breaking into a giddy grin.

"Prefect, s-seeing as how I'm your True Love-" Azul hastily unlocked his top desk drawer, pulling out a fancy piece of paper and handing it to you. "Let's make it official with a contract."

Azul smiled at you expectantly, nudging a pen towards your direction. Blinking, you looked down and read the text on the paper.

"Azul, this is an engagement contract…?"

"Precisely."

K.A | KALIM AL ASIM:

Jamil peered at Kalim through a crack in the slightly-ajar door. Seeing the poster boy for the golden-retriever personality sulking was truly a rare sight. Kalim had his head buried in his hands, kneeling by his bed which had your sleeping form atop it.

"What did you tell him?!" Jamil hissed, whipping his head around to glare at both Ace and Deuce.

"W-We just told him how we needed a Prince Charming's kiss to break the spell…" Deuce trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "…we figured since he was related to royalty, he could break it."

"He must have misunderstood it then." Jamil sighed, slipping into the dark room. So dark in fact that he could barely make out the silhouette of his dorm leader. Kalim had shut the drapes so tightly that not a single ray of sunshine could strike through his bedroom. How…dramatic.

"Kalim, what's the matter…?" Jamil approached the young boy, placing his hand atop Kalim's shoulder. He didn't miss the sight of the pure gold jewelry hastily draped across your neck or the iris bouquet in your hands. Well…it was evident who all those were from. You looked like you came straight out of a Scarabian version of Snow White.

"J-Jamil!" Kalim wailed, screwing his eyes shut as thick globs of tears ran down his flushed puffy face. The vice dorm leader sighed and reached for a tissue box, which he handed to the distraught boy. Kalim snatched a fistful of tissues and blew his nose loudly.

"The prefect is cursed to sleep forever-! A-And I couldn't find the cure!" He cried out in anguish. Jamil squinted his eyes. "Kalim, in case you forgot, the cure is-"

"I know! Prince Charming's kiss!" Kalim interrupted, wiping away his tears with the back of his arm making Jamil grimace. "I sent out hundreds of search parties but he hasn't been found!"

Jamil paused.

Ah. In foresight, he really should have seen this coming…

Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath to get his irritation under control. He reached for the hood of Kalim's shirt and yanked him back. Hissing into his ear, the snake spat. "Kalim, the Prince Charming is you."

"Wh-Whgat?" Kalim sniffed, his voice muffled and hoarse from his crying.

"You. You're the prince charming." Jamil groaned, running a hand over his face.

Kalim started at Jamil for a minute or two, processing what his friend just said. Eventually, he broke out into a wide smile and happy laughter.

Wasting no time, he was quick to swoop you into his arms, drawing you into a clumsy yet endearing kiss. It only took a few seconds before your eyes blinked open. He pulled away but not before pressing another quick peck on your cheek.

"So, I'm your prince charming, huh?" Kalim beamed, sending a you a silly toothy grin. He leaned down and peppered your flushed face with kisses once more, making you feel like your head was about to explode.

"Y-Yeah-" You shot him a bashful yet thankful smile.

Filled with happiness, the teen jumped to his feet and drew you into his arms. He lifted you up by the waist and spun you around, his loud laughter echoing out through the room.

"I'm so glad! Ah! But I still have to cancel all those search parties though…"

V.S | VIL SCHOENHEIT:

"Tsk. This is what I said about hanging out with those hooligans potato." Vil scowled, seething in rage and looking as if he was just about to hex both Ace and Deuce for this accident. "It'll only bring you trouble."

After he was informed of the incident by Rook, he wasted no time in whisking you away from your two incompetent friends and claiming he would care for you himself. Like hell he was letting you stay in that shabby dorm of yours.

Vil eased you into a luxurious bed in one of Pomefiore's spare rooms, draping a delicate lilac blanket around your torso. His palms brushed up against your brow, softly smoothing out the creases along your brow line.

Dspite the color vanishing from your cheeks and the once bright visage that made you look so vibrant losing it's glow, Vil believed you to be ethereal.

"True Love's Kiss can wake her from the spell." Vil murmured, reading off of a page in the book Deuce handed to him.

"Hmph, if I had a Madol for everytime that was listed as a cure." This wasn't the first time he'd heard of such a thing. Vil has spend hours pouring over potionology books and you'd be surprised at just how many spells and curses have it mentioned. A tad bit overrated if you asked him.

"Though there will be no need for a Prince Charming, potato." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small vial filled with a glimmering silver liquid.

The liquid swished around in the bottle, sparkling brightly. As you've probably guessed, this was the cure. Vil wasn't appointed Pomefiore's dorm leader for nothing. If he could make one of the most potent poisons this campus has ever seen then he surely knew how to make a cure as simple as this. It was mere child's play.

"The potion will suffice. Even a single drop is enough to wake you." He twisted the bottle open, gently grabbing a hold of your jaw to part your lips. He leaned down, holding the bottle over your face before pausing.

"As if I'd need True Love's Kiss to prove myself." Vil scoffed, eyes latching onto your face, his gaze intense yet warm. He tipped the bottle down, allowing a single drop to fall into your mouth before capturing your lips with his in a tender yet feverish kiss.

Vil eventually pulled away and hummed seeing the color and flush return to your skin. His fingers combed through your disheveled hair, undoing any knots. Your eyes fluttered open and Vil huffed, gliding his fingers along your flushed cheeks.

"Your skin is far too puffy, an unfortunate side effect of the cure. Worry not, I'll go grab a facemask for you." Vil pushed himself off of the bed, heels clicking against the floor as he marched out of the room. "A spa day is just what you need after another incident, potato."

It was all thanks to his potion that were you able to wake, he tells himself. Vil Schoenheit was not one for fairytales or wishing. He knew that he didn't need some magical curse or wish to win you over. No, he was confident he could accomplish it on his own.

As Vil eases the translucent mask onto your face, you smile brightly at him and his chest blooms in a sudden warmth.

Yes, it was definitely the potion.

I.S | IDIA SHROUD:

"S-seriously, w-wh-hy me? Do I look like a Prince Charming to y-you?" Idia groaned, trying to shut the door but Ace stuck his foot through the opening. "Knock it off with the grin, geez… Weirdo…"

"We know you both have romantic feelings for each other!" Deuce shouted, holding you in his arms. "We really need your help!"

Idia shrieked, hair burning up slightly. He could barely hold eye contact with you for 3 seconds, what makes these two think that he could even survive kissing you? The poor boy would end up melting into a puddle of sad gooey awkwardness.

"J-Just wait until C-Crewel finishes the potion!" Idia shouted, shoving Ace away and slamming the door shut. His chest heaved up and down as he pressed his back against the door, arms awkwardly splayed to his sides, scrambling to keep the door shut.

His eyes ripped wide in panic when Ace continued to pound at the door, calling his name. "C'mon, Idia! Most people would take this as a great opportunity to win their crush over you know!"

"NOPE, NOPE, NOPE. COUNT ME OUT. I'M NOT GOING DOWN THE ROMANCE ROUTE." Idia vehemently shook his head, burying his face into the fabric of his shirt.

Ortho laughed silently, heading over to his distressed brother who looked like he was about to pop a vein. Scratch that, he probably already has.

"Big brother, didn't you and the prefect already go on a date?" Orthro said, tilting his head up to meet Idia's shaky gaze. "Why the big deal? It's just a small kiss."

"Th-That was different! I-I-It was a gaming session through a screen!" Idia sinked to the floor, curling up into a ball. He sobbed pathetically. "I could barely even keep my composure-No way am I surviving IRL."

"Yeah but they need you right now. You may not be Prince Charming but I'm sure the prefect would prefer you over any other." Ortho whispered, placing a hand atop Idia's own. The dorm leader's lip quivered, newfound courage blooming in his chest. He shakily stood up, knees wobbling from his nerves.

"…They need me."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I'm telling you Deuce, this guy's hopeless." Ace sighed, lips drawn into a thin line as he casually leaned against the door. Deuce frowned, lightly kicking Ace's shin. "Don't say such things about our senior!"

"Oh yeah? But he's-Argh! " Ace yelped falling backwards as the door abruptly opened. With a grunt, he landed on his back and found himself staring up at Idia's flushed face.

"Alright, n-normies. I-I-I'll d-d-do it."

Idia stepped aside and let Deuce enter his room. Anxiously fiddling with his hands, Idia watched the first-year carefully set you on his bed before stepping out of the room.

"We'll leave everything to you!" The two scurried away and Ortho also excused himself, leaving to give you two privacy. Idia stood in the middle of his room, a great distance away from you.

Alright, he could do this. It was just a simple little kiss, no biggie.

Hovering his shaky hands over your cheeks, Idia leaned over your form. His breath fanning across your face as he moved in, delicately brushing his lips against yours.

Your hands snaked around his neck, drawing him in deeper making the boy squeak. Pulling away, Idia averted his gaze, voice small and meek.

"H-Hey you. You're finally awake…"

M.D | MALLEUS DRACONIA:

In a tall tower atop Diasomnia, an ominious green glow was emanating from an open window. Thick towering brambles, thorns, and vines wrapped itself around the brooding dorm. In the sky, claps of lightning and thunder flashed amongst the darkening clouds.

"Ah…we lost the prefect." Deuce deadpanned, his gaze fixed on the overgrown thick shrubs in front of them. Ace reached for a thorn, hissing as the tip of his finger was cut.

"Yeah..it's best if we leave them to Malleus, I don't think we can even get past all of…this."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Lilia stood in the corner watching as Malleus tenderly placed you onto the bed, the dragon fae handling you as if you were a delicate piece of glass that could break at any second.

"Ah~ My boy, are you going to be their Prince Charming? Khee hee, how ador-"

"Lillia, we need more pillows. There's hardly enough here." Malleus abruptly cut in, a stern look on his face.

Lilia blinked, gaze drawn over to the bed already filled to the brim with pillows of all shapes and sizes, so much so that some of them began pooling around the floor. All evidence of Malleus' nesting instinct.

"What a tragedy. There is to be a pillow scarcity in Diasomnia because of the devastation lay upon the prefect." Lilia replied, a dramatic theatrical sigh leaving his lips. He hurried out the door to meet Malleus' requests before the storm outside worsened. The dragon fae was already aggrevated, there was no need to make things worse.

Malleus' gaze was drawn to your serene expression, his aching heart plummeting to his stomach. Bending down, he softly cradled you in his arms. "Oh, my treasure, if only I could have prevented this."

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses amongst your skin before trailing them up to your lips. Fluttering his eyes shut, Malleus wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you off the bed as he pressed his lips firmly against yours.

Malleus drew back to see you ogle at him with with wide eyes, your fingers having immediately shot up touch your tingling lips. Chuckling, he bent down once more to press his lips against yours. You two exchanged kisses for what seemed like hours, the press of his lips against yours leaving your lungs burning and heaving for air. At some point he slipped into bed with you, holding himself above your body with his elbows.

"Khee hee, You two know it's supposed to be a 'True Love's Kiss' not 'Kisses', right?" Lilia barged into the room, a comically large pile of pillows in his arms. Malleus growled and tossed a lamp his way, one which Lillia dodged easily. The lamp shattered against the wall behind him, scattering into fragments across the floor.

"Ah ah, there's no need to be so furious. Let me just drop these off and I'll be on my merry way." Lilia cheered, dropping the pillows by the foot of the bed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old bulky camera. "Might as well take pictures!"

Snarling, Malleus drew his hand back to reach for the large painting sitting above the bed. You snaked a hand around his wrist, silently begging him to not hurl another object at his bat-dad.

"My baby boy is in love-OW!"

"What did I say about keeping them out of harms way." Crewel snarled, sitting in the detention room with both Ace and Deuce. Ace chuckled awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well if you look on the bright side, your kid finally has a love life, so there's that!"

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

Taglist: @keedas , @spadecentral

To be strong (Barbara)

What if during the Imposter AU, the only ones who refuse to believe that the Creator is an Imposter were the weakest characters in lore? Luckily for the Creator, they still have the ability to change their artifacts…

“Barbara! Why are you defending the heretic?! Step away from them immediately!” Jean yelled from the bottom of the church steps as the rest of the Knights surrounded the deaconess and the one she called the true Creator.

“Big sister, please!” Barbara begged. “The creator has blessed you too with their presence! I’m sure that you can see that they’re-”

“All I see is a fool who dares to mock the great Creator by wearing their holy face! Kaeya! Restrain her! I will deal with the heretic myself!”

As swords were drawn, Barbara’s legs shook from fear. How could she, a mere deaconess, protect her Grace from such betrayal? Although Barbara herself has been blessed many times by the Creator themselves, her role was that of a healer!

There was no way for her to stand up to the might of the Knights, many of which have been blessed too!

“Charge attack.”

Barbara turned to the Creator, who was, for some reason, moving their hands through the air, as if they were scrolling down a list of something. With a clap of their hands, the Creator gave Barbara an affirming look.

“Done. Do it!”

As her sister closed in, Barbara summoned her catalyst, drew as much power from her vision as she could, and-

Despite Jean’s pleas for a proper punishment, the ever so kind Creator waved off her treasonous acts. After all, she already had enough on her plate dealing with the sudden influx of water damage reports that rang throughout the city, as well as a complete reconstruction of the Anemo Archon statue, which found itself washed all the way to the front gates.

Meanwhile, the idol of Mondstadt, now a hero, found herself at the forefront of the nation’s praise, and more importantly, had the great pleasure of hosting a concert together with her Grace.

— SHE'S THE ONE I'M RUNNING WITH

RECEIVERS。yandere!nikolai gogol x asylum_attendant!fem!reader

WISHCARD。“Hello, Gogol. From what you had listened from other staff, you are to have an assigned attendant during your life here in this facility. My role is to devote my time to you – to please you, to take care of you, to accompany you and to entertain you. I am to supervise you throughout your day.” —— “So you'd be my friend?” —— “You could say so,”

BOUQUET。angst, very suggestive, obsessive behaviour, deranged!nikolai, heavy yandere tones, heavy hints of physical and emotional abuse, manipulation, heavy dubious consent, possible inaccuracies about asylum (more about this)

PRICE。approx. 15.0k words

FREEGIFT。after dark (mr. kitty), dark red (steve lacy), skins (the haunting)

OTHER SHOP。available on AO3

“Good morning, Nikolai.”

The man looked at the door and you gave him a friendly smile. He returned your smile with a grin as he watched you stepping further inside his room.

“Have you showered?” you asked.

“I have, yeah! Would you like to sniff me, missy?” he asked, a mischievous tone clear in his voice. You only shook your head and noticed that his hair was still damp. He probably washed his hair and let loose of it once in a while.

“Do you want to have breakfast in your room or the cafeteria?” you asked as you started to gather his blanket and folded it nicely, tidying his bed. Nikolai only watched as he sat at the edge of the bed.

“The cafeteria, please..” he replied. You nodded.

“Very well. Give me a minute and then we will go there,” you replied as you puffed up the pillow. However, your eyes were quick to roam around the bedding, trying to catch anything suspicious being hidden. That was the whole reason why you tidy up the bed after all.

You are Nikolai Gogol's asylum attendant. Gogol was being pursued because of involvement in a massive terrorist act that happened several years ago. But, six months ago, he was finally arrested for terrorism, a high number of first-degree murders and involvement in torturous and inhumane acts. There were also more records of his crime, including impersonating other private civilians and breaching the prison that held various dangerous ability users with explosives. Truly a dangerous man — you wouldn't be surprised if he were to get a verdict of death punishment.

But for some reason — some weird unknown miracle, he was admitted to the asylum instead. His reasonings for those crimes were counted as something that could be treated. There must be something wrong with the law if this kind of man is still alive after those horrendous crimes. Someone or something might had interfere with the law. But that part was out of your field, so you wouldn't question it.

Your job was to be his attendant in this facility. Your whole life as an attendant was to be dedicated to the patient. So you will dedicate your time, body and soul just to take care, please and entertain the patients you were assigned with until the end of their time in the institute.

Your life was strict — all and everything you should do and were allowed to do were regulated in the rule book. Just like the matron — your supervisor — said during your training period, “Devote yourself to the patients and the facility, that is your role and life.”

Although your devotion to the patient was important, this asylum housed patients that were criminals themselves. So the regulation book did teach and say about precautions and how to deal with them if the patients were getting violent.

Having a partner to deal with criminals was an ideal solution but the whole asylum was short-staffed of attendants. But you were fine. So far, Nikolai Gogol — your current patient — never harmed you or inappropriately touched you. Though, this man was annoying in his own way.

“Missy! I'm hungry~! Let's get to the cafeteria quick!” he whined, pulling your sleeve to get your attention.

“Yes, sir. Let's get going. You don't mind letting your hair loose?” you asked.

“Ehh~ I need to dry it naturally once in a while, no?” Nikolai got up from the bed, stretching himself. You went to the desk right beside his bed and took his favourite pompom hair tie. You kept it in your dress pocket, just in case.

“Come on! Come on!” Nikolai was getting impatient, pulling your arm and practically dragged you outside. You followed his steps but immediately pulled your arm from his grip. You must maintain a neat and proper manner after all. Nikolai pouted, seeing you fixing your appearance and posture as you walked ahead first.

“Hey~! Don't be so stuck up!” Nikolai shook your shoulder. “Feels like I'm talking to a robot! Aren't you supposed to be my friend?”

“I am your attendant, Nikolai. My role is to devote my time to you,” you replied, the same answer you had always given to him. Nikolai huffed and just twirled his finger around his hair. You only glanced at him, watching the man sadly play with his hair.

Nikolai was a bizarre man. You remembered — the first day you met Nikolai was his eighth day in the asylum.

“Good day, I'll be your personal attendant.” hands at the front, you bowed 45° to Nikolai who had his upper body strapped and was held by two guards. He looked up and his eyes widened. Then he let out an excited gasp before he tried to lunge towards you but he was immediately held back by a guard.

“I like you! You're so pretty!”

“Hey! Behave yourself..!”

You only smiled. It wasn't strange to have some patients charming up their way to escape, so you thought Nikolai might be the same. “Nice to meet you too, Sir Gogol,” you replied. Then you turned to the guards. “Bring him to his room, can you? I'll take care of everything after,” you said. They obeyed you and brought Nikolai to his room. When you came inside, Nikolai was sitting on the bed, still strapped.

“Miss. We'll wait outside and leave when everything's confirmed to be fine. This man is dangerous.” one of the guards said. You nodded and patted his back in a friendly manner.

“It's okay. I promise nothing bad will happen,” you replied. You were trained to defend yourself if the patient ever attacked you, and you also had a small knife hidden somewhere in your dress.

The guards left and it was only you and Nikolai in the room. He had been staring at you from the very beginning until right at the moment. You pulled the chair and positioned it right in front of him. You sat down, hands on your lap, proper manner.

“Hello, Gogol. From what you had listened from other staff, you are to have an assigned attendant during your life here in this facility. My role is to devote my time to you — to please you, to take care of you, to accompany you and to entertain you. I am to supervise you throughout your day.” you explained.

“So you'd be my friend?” he asked, beaming.

“You could say so,” you replied. He then cackled.

“So if I asked you to dance, you would dance?”

“Of course. Us attendants do have skills to entertain our patients,” you said calmly, which surprised Nikolai a bit. He was just joking but if you could dance so well for him, then he will take that information as his personal memo.

“Any other questions, Gogol?”

“Call me Nikolai, pretty lady! Let's skip to the first-name basis!” Nikolai said happily, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. You kept your demeanour as you scooted the chair to the back a bit, maintaining distance.

“Well, Nikolai. Anything else?”

“I thought there would be two of you being my friends but I guess not. My my! You must be a strong girl if you can be assigned alone to attend to a patient.” Nikolai remarked.

“We are short-staffed, first and foremost. Also, I do have ways to defend myself if you ever attacked me. And I wouldn't recommend that to ensure your safety, Nikolai. Although we are short-staffed, we are very strict on regulations towards the workers and the patients. You might get in big trouble if you display violent tendencies.” you explained before you stood up.

Then, you sat right next to him on the bed. Nikolai's smile withered as his mismatched eyes gleamed. His breathing got heavier — as if he just found something valuable, something so precious he would never let it go.

“Now, I'll take off this strap. But I need you to not get violent or inappropriate. Else, the guards might have to be harsher on you.” you said. Nikolai looked at you and then the strap and then you again.

“Uh-huh! Don't worry, I won't hurt ya! You're in my good book so far!” Nikolai grinned. “Come, come! Release me from this,” he said, adjusting his position so you could undo the strap.

“I'd appreciate your cooperation, Nikolai,” you said before you undid the strap. Then you helped him to take off the strap jacket. Once Nikolai was free, he instantly stood up. You stepped back in urgency, preparing to defend yourself.

But instead, Nikolai just stretched himself, groaning with a hoarse yet high voice. “Wah~! Feels liberating, hm!”

You looked at him suspiciously but he wasn't showing any hostility. Compared to how he looked, he actually was pretty tall. Though his body was not as big and muscular as the guards, he was pretty well-built.

You stood properly again, folding the strap jacket neatly. Nikolai then looked at you and smirked. He stepped closer but he was still looking friendly — and you knew better than to trust this persona early on.

“Nikolai.”

“You're so pretty. I really like you.”

You frowned a bit but remained calm. “Please do know that in my line of work, I have witnessed so many attempts from my patients to escape — including charming their own attendant. I am trained, Nikolai,” you said and Nikolai only listened with that weirdly smug face — as if he won an invisible battle.

“Besides, I am engaged.”

You thought his smug smile would drop when you clarified your status but Nikolai was just staring at you with the same dreamy look. He then giggled before his finger caught the white ribbon from your dress and twirled it.

“Oh, really? What a shame.”

You gulped — welp, this did not go as expected. Nikolai's finger then trailed up to your face, barely touching your chin. His touch was too subtle and too soft but both of you knew he had touched your face albeit very lightly. Nikolai let out a broken small giggle.

“You are just so pretty, little bird.”

“Birdie, did you hear what I say?”

“Huh?”

Nikolai pouted, tapping his bowl with his spoon. You two were now in the cafeteria. Your mind brought you into a journey to the past and it felt like you had been on autopilot this whole time.

“Why're you ignoring me?” Nikolai whined, lightly kicking your leg under the table like a child. You only chuckled awkwardly but you remained composed.

“I apologized for getting distracted, Nikolai. Uh.. how's the breakfast today?” you asked, immediately trying to change the topic to entertain Nikolai.

“Better than yesterday, love.”

“Is that so? Glad to hear that,” you replied. “What would you like to do today? Shall we continue our board game yesterday evening? Or would you like to play some musical instruments? Violin?” you asked. Nikolai hummed as he rested his cheek on his palm.

“My friend liked cello,” he remarked.

“Really? Do you know how to play it?” Nikolai shrugged his shoulders at the question — which did not confirm anything.

“I wanna go to the garden. From day to night — let's play cricket!” Nikolai exclaimed excitedly, two fingers pointed up to the ceiling. “I wanna see you run around the field with that dress!” he grinned.

“Oh, my my... We could play cricket but I'm afraid I have regulations to follow.” — yes. Attendants were expected to present themselves neatly, cleanly and with proper manners. But regardless, you still have to dedicate yourself entertain your patient. If he wanted to play cricket, then you'd gladly do so.

“Right, right. All that regulations bullshit. I know, I know.” Nikolai waved his hand, dismissing. He then raised his fork and took a piece of potato from your plate. “Hm~! Why does your food always taste better than mine? Not fair!” he whined.

“You can always request me if you wanted a personalised dish,” you said, giving him a few more pieces of potato onto his plate. Nikolai grinned cheekily as he ate the potato happily.

“Yeah, yeah! I know, you're my servant.”

“I am your attendant.”

“Okay, okay! Whatever! It's the same!”

“So, the garden today?”

“Yes, love.”

As per agreement, you and Nikolai spent the day in the garden. During the first few weeks of his time in the asylum, Nikolai often made an effort to come to the garden to take care of the birds. Since then, the birdhouse located in the garden seemed to be under Nikolai's care now.

“How's the birds today, Nikolai?” you asked when Nikolai excitedly opened one of the birdhouses to look at his birds. He cooed and tugged your arm to come closer.

“Look! Baby birds!” he pointed at a colony of chicks at the back of the birdhouse. You cheered a bit in adoration, the chirps were indeed loud in the house. “Aww, they're so cute. I'm not gonna disturb them for now. They need their mama.” Nikolai said as he adjusted some leaves and tree sticks in the section before closing the door.

“Would you like to feed the birds, Nikolai?” you asked.

“Oh, absolutely. Could you take one cup of it for me, dearest?” Nikolai grinned and you just smiled at him before you took a cup of seeds and nuts for the birds. You gave the cup to Nikolai and he giggled.

“Aren't we such a sweet couple? Taking care of the birds together like they're our children!” he exclaimed which you nodded with a smile.

“You are very fond of them, yes,” you replied. Nikolai was always smiley when he was taking care of the birds. And it gave you a sense of serenity, watching him feeding the birds in silence.

“... Don't you have questions, dear?” he suddenly struck a question. You looked at him but he did not turn to you at all, just focusing on the birds.

“What questions..?”

“About me liking the birds.”

Seeing a person being enthusiastic about something was not weird for you. Him taking care of the birds shadowed a piece of humanity inside him, you thought. But the way he solemnly voiced that out just made you think there might be something more than him purely having an interest in birds.

“Why do you like birds, Nikolai?” you asked — conversation to fill his time and keep his mind busy. Besides, you had to entertain him after all.

“I couldn't remember when I took a liking to them — I guess when I was young. But every time I see birds flying in the sky, unbothered, I can't help but to think, maybe freedom exists after all... Maybe I could feel something like that. Perhaps sooner or later, I could find what I seek..”

“... Well, what did you seek?”

“Freedom. A true free will.” Nikolai turned to you, eyes sharp. “I believe if I get rid of my emotions, I could be free from this cage. I despise feelings — for me, it's brainwashing. Why should I feel guilty when I kill someone? Why should I feel sad when a death of a family member occurred? Emotions, my dear, are just a hindrance in your very head from doing something. That's why, even as a sane man, I...”

He looked down at his palm and you did too. Just then, you noticed a long thin streak of blood scarred his porcelain skin. He was hurt. Probably from a sharp tree stick while he was adjusting them.

“Oh, my God. We need to clean it up.” you held his hand and Nikolai flinched. You looked at his face and his eyes were fixated on you.

“I... The blood... No, it doesn't hurt... Just...”

Instead of pulling his hand away, he held your hand back, engulfing you entirely. Nikolai sighed softly, “I... I love your touch... I love you so much...” he mumbled as he brought your hand to his lips. He nuzzled his face against the back of your hand, but before he could kiss it, you immediately pulled your hand away from him.

“Nikolai..!”

He looked at you — eyes confused and innocently pure.

“W-Wait here... Just wait. I'll bring a clean napkin and some plasters for you real quick,” you said, words quite stumbling each other as you took a few steps back and made a jog to the facility. You managed to turn to Nikolai one more time and he was still looking at you.

You felt unease — but you needed to remember, this was your reality of being an attendant.

A few minutes later, you returned to the garden with a small roll of bandage and a napkin. You saw Nikolai was still at the birdhouses, but this time, there was a man with him there. A man in an attendant uniform.

“Nikolai...?” you called for your patient and Nikolai turned to you. Just then you noticed he was clenching something in his hand — it looked like a rock. Swiftly, you stood in between Nikolai and the man, quickly taking the rock from his hand and dropped it to the ground.

“Taking care of your patient well, baby?” the man asked and you only sighed lowly.

“The male and female attendants are not allowed to associate together while on duty — that was one of the very first lines in the regulation book,” you said. The man snorted mockingly. “And you must not leave your patient's side,” you added, glaring at him.

“What? Talking to the mirror, darl'? You left this guy here alone too. And I'm supposed to follow my patient to constipate?” he replied. “Would be a mess if the head attendant saw us but I need to get my answer right now,” he said.

“What...?” you asked.

“Where were you last night? Why didn't you come home to our room yesterday?”

“... A-Are you serious..? Why are you asking this right now when we are on duty..?” you replied, averting the question. “Don't bring personal stuff into our work...” you mumbled, dissatisfied.

“What? I'm not allowed to be worried about my fiancée now?” your lover tsk'd and glared at you sharply. Noticing his eyes, you looked away.

“I don't wanna... argue here, especially in front of this guy. But well, he's a criminal, he sure understands, yeah?” the man cackled as he nudged Nikolai's shoulder. Then he turned to you, “Come back home tonight. I'll be waiting. Or else.”

The man finally left and you clicked your tongue. But, you immediately coughed to yourself, pursing your lips to subdue your frustration as you put up your manner again.

“Nikolai?” you turned to him and saw how he was still watching your fiance's figure leaving the garden.

“Nikolai, hand, please. I need to treat you.”

Nikolai frowned and then pouted. He half-heartedly gave his hand to you, letting you clean it and wrap it nicely with the bandage.

“I don't like it.”

“You don't like what?” you asked.

“He's been hurting you, hasn't he?”

“N-No! No, no... It's fine. It's just one of those lovers' quarrels. W-We... are fine... Besides, you don't have to worry anything about me. Just focus on yourself and I'm more than happy to assist you in every way possible. That's what I should do after all.”

You did not dare to look up at Nikolai, just giving your attention to his hand. However, that did make you miss the threatening gaze and quivering irises from him.

You were later than your schedule. You were supposed to be with Nikolai right at the supposed time but you were late. All because of... certain things happening behind the curtain.

When you arrived at Nikolai's ward, you opened the door, greeting him with your usual friendliness.

“Good morning, Niko—”

The room was empty, with no signs of Nikolai. You stepped inside, trying to look around — maybe he was curling up on the corner. But really, the room was tiny enough for you to know it was empty. The only thing that had been touched was the messy bed with scattered papers on it.

“Where'd he go? Does he have any therapy session or something?” you mumbled to yourself, roaming around the room until your eyes caught the sight of the scattered papers again.

They were folded. There was also a pencil in the mess. You felt curious and you reached for one of the papers. As you unfolded it, you realized it was not just any random note, rather it was a letter.

You could not read the language written in the letter. It was probably one of the Slavic languages which you did recognize by the way the writing looked. But you could understand the first line of the letter.

“For my dearest doll...?”

You frowned. This letter was dedicated to someone that he referred to as 'doll'. You wondered if the other folded papers were the same. So you reached for another one.

“For my little songbird...?”

You started to look after each letter, now noticing constant patterns. The name of the receivers was never mentioned, just replaced by some endearment terms. All the contents were written in a foreign language.

“Is he writing for the same person?” you asked yourself, checking other letters until you finally saw one letter that was probably different.

“For my dear friend, Fedya... Fedya? Why is this letter named but not the others..?” you mumbled before you took another one that was a bit crumpled at the side. You unfolded it — much to your surprise, the receiver of the letter was someone you knew.

“Why... Why does this have my name..?” your hands shook slightly, seeing a crumpled letter dedicated to you. You felt heavy in your chest. You were very curious about what he might have written to you as you couldn't read nor understand the content of the letter. But perhaps, not knowing what he wrote would be better for you.

“Shit.. What am I doing? I should look for him quickly—”

“Yeah, you should have looked for me from the beginning, love.”

You turned your head around, seeing Nikolai standing behind you. The door was closed and he was eyeing you with hidden intentions — malicious. Nikolai tilted his head, hands behind his back.

“Hello, love.”

“N-Nikolai..! H-Hey..!” you tried to maintain your friendliness but your mask crumbled as Nikolai was fast enough to grip your shoulders and pushed you onto the bed. You gasped and immediately tried to get away but Nikolai laughed as he climbed to hover over you.

“It's okay, darling. It's okay, I'm not mad you're looking at those.” Nikolai closed the gap between the two of you, whispering to your ear softly. His hand slithered from your stomach to your chest and finally rested around your neck. He was seizing your jaw, hard.

“In fact, I'm happy. You wanted to know me better— You wanted to know more about me.”

“No... No, that's not it..” you placed your hands on his chest, trying to push him away gently to give you personal space but Nikolai only chuckled, unmoving.

“It's the first time we've been this close. I can smell your scent — you're so nice, darling...” he sighed.

“G-Get off..! You can't touch me— inappropriately..!” you tried to push him or at least reach for the hidden knife in your dress. But Nikolai only cackled before he raised himself a bit, still caging you under him.

“I'm touching you better than that man... Ugh, I can't even call him your fiancé — you don't deserve such treatment, dear. Really.” Nikolai sighed defeatedly. Then his eyes glared down at your body, up and down and it made you feel super self-conscious.

“I was gone for the toilet. But then I saw your... your fiancé again. He looked at me funny. I don't like it. He even mocked me, saying how I'm a weirdo and insane. He's totally wrong, but... But you said I can't use violence — so, I don't do anything to him..” Nikolai rambled and you just had to listen to him.

“His knuckles are red though... And I think—”

Nikolai trailed his hand from your neck to your stomach. He then smiled before he pressed his palm hard on the side of your tummy. You yelped, body jerking in reaction to the pain.

“He hit you, didn't he? He hit you. He hit you right here. On your tummy. Maybe somewhere else too. When I did this to my darlings, they didn't let out such reactions unless I wounded them. But I never wound you. I never hurt you here. So why is this?”

“I'm... I'm an attendant. Of course I might get hurt here and there.” you replied, making up an excuse.

“But that doesn't explain the small bruises on your face two weeks ago. Oh? What if there are new bruises on you right now and you managed to cover them with some cheap powder? What if I just...” he reached out his other hand to touch your face but you immediately turned away.

“Y-You'll hurt me, Nikolai,” you spoke out with sternness in your voice. Nikolai's hand froze in the air before it retracted. You glanced at him, seeing his somewhat surprised face. Then slowly, you felt his weight was lifted off you.

Before you could react, Nikolai gripped your wrist, pulling you to sit up.

“Eh..?”

“I don't wanna hurt you...” he mumbled, eyes everywhere but you. He looked like a lost cat. Though he did look harmless now, you scooted away from him. Some papers shuffled on the bed and fall to the floor. You only eyed them as Nikolai started to silently collect them.

“... Why is there a letter for me?”

“I wrote letters for people I cherished,” Nikolai replied. You frowned. The letters were a lot. And as you could recall, the head attendant for female attendants, the matron had given you a file of Nikolai's personal records that they could compile and receive. But never in the file mentioned anything about Nikolai having a known family member or friend that was willing to bail him out of jail or testify for him during his trial.

He seemed to work and operate alone. Imaginary friends, maybe? So why weren't the receivers for most — if not all — of these letters named?

“Why're you looking confused, dearest?” Nikolai asked, finally had collected tens of the letters in his hands.

“Oh... No.. No, just wondering something..” you mumbled. Nikolai suddenly gleamed with excitement before he laughed.

“You're acting weird! Just say you're curious about me, honey! I have been plotting tons of riddles to spice up our relationship!” he said. You only chuckled awkwardly before standing up from the bed.

“Nikolai, I'm sorry for my lateness to attend to you... But now we can continue on our usual routine,” you said, trying to reach back to the usual tension and routine. You had regulations to follow after all. “It is almost noon.. Should we get lunch?” you asked.

“I'm not hungry yet,” Nikolai replied.

“Oh... Then, to the birdhouses?”

“Then your fiancé might be there too.. I don't like him. He's been hurting you.”

You pursed your lips. It felt like he had been rubbing that fact to your face as much as he could whenever he could relate something back to your fiancé.

“Where do you wanna spend your day today then?”

“... Somewhere where your boyfie won't find us.”

This fucking man...

“Uh... How about the lounge? We can play some new board games.” you suggested and Nikolai hummed, swinging his long legs.

“M'kay...”

After you tidied up his bed decently, both of you left the room and you could finally take a relieved breath. At least you two were in the open now. You did not realize how tense you were while being in a small room with only Nikolai.

“Alright, come. Let's get to the lounge. I'm sure you'll love the new board games.” you said, trying to lift up the heaviness in your chest. You felt as if you had been through the whole day but you were sure it was barely thirty minutes in that room.

You walked ahead first but your steps slowed when you felt your hand was being held — this time, tenderly.

You looked to your side, seeing Nikolai was holding your hand. His fingers linked in between yours, tightening his grip. He smiled cheekily. “I wanna hold your hand. Can I?”

Well, he was already holding it...

“Yeah...” you replied and Nikolai grinned.

With hands intertwined, you two walked to the lounge. Strangely, despite what happened in the room, you sensed no danger from him now. He was just happy as he got the chance to walk with holding hands.

Unconsciously, you returned his hold. It feels nice.

“Why...”

“Why're you like this?”

Your voice was small as you fruitlessly tried to push your fiancé away. His lips were giving nonstop sloppy kisses against your lips and neck. He only chuckled upon your question — his lips nibbled your earlobe softly.

“I'm kissing your bruises better, baby.”

“N-No..! Enough! Not now, please...” you begged and your legs shook when you felt him grinding against your thigh. “We're in the storage room— This is not appropriate..!” you raised your voice, in hope that it would get to his head.

“And? The more thrilling it is, the better.”

“You can't be joking— I won't have sex with you right in here while we are both waiting for our patients..!” you said, finally pushing him away with a mild kick to his thigh. Your fiancé groaned and you immediately stood straight from your position — leaned against boxes of unknown items.

This evening, Nikolai and several other patients were dragged to participate in an activity — probably a therapy session. So you and some attendants were left with no one to take care of. And by some horrible luck, your fiancé also had no patient, which means he could take advantage of your free time to do anything he wanted.

Including dragging you to a nearby storage room.

For intentions.

And you hated this. You felt incredibly unsafe. Much worse than when Nikolai had you under him.

“I'm leaving! I need to tend to my patient and I have no time to play with you.” you sternly said. Your fiancé clicked his tongue seeing you harshly rub your face with your sleeves as if his kisses were that bad and nasty — they were.

“Yeah, go and get attached to that terrorist freak,” he replied. “Tonight you're gonna come back into my arms anyway,” he added with a mocking laugh. You glared at him but you did not want to waste any more time in this storage room with him. So you quickly left the room and went to look for Nikolai — anything just to get away for now.

You travelled the whole floor and to his room, but Nikolai was not seen at all. You even went to the cafeteria as it was already dinner time, in case the staff brought the participating patients there, but you really could not find him.

“Did I really just lose my patient? Oh God...” you mumbled to yourself, trying to keep your appearance and face as calm as possible. Manners, first and foremost.

“Nikolai... My God, where are you?” you whispered to yourself as you kept your eyes down, not wanting to make a contact with other busy attendants and staff that might notice you just lost a patient because of how alone you were right now.

You walked out of the facility, making your way to the garden. Or to be exact the birdhouses. And much to your relief, you saw Nikolai standing at the birdhouses, alone in the dark garden as the only light provided were some dim tall lamps and the moon.

“Nikolai!” you called out his name jovially and he turned from the birdhouses. His smile returned to his face as he waved at you, not making any moves to come towards you instead.

So you jogged towards him, holding your dress up a bit to allow your feet to make bigger steps. You reached him and he just grinned.

“You looked tired, honey. Were you running around the asylum to come to find me?” Nikolai giggled playfully. “Don't fret, fret not! I'm not about to run away! Yet! Haha, kidding.” he tapped your shoulder as he laughed.

“Either way, I'm glad you aren't hurt or anything.. You seemed fine, after whatever the staff did to you... So.. Uh, would you like to come with me to get dinner?” you asked. Nikolai hummed and shook his head before he pointed to a bench nearby. You looked at the bench, seeing two meal boxes on it.

“They gave us food. And I took one extra for you before I ran away quickly — each patient should take one only because they made it just according to the numbers. But I really want to eat with you.” Nikolai said before he took your hand.

“Can you work overtime tonight, darling?”

You did not know what possessed you to agree — but when you nodded, Nikolai's eyes gleamed as he dragged you to the bench. He placed his arm around your shoulders, essentially pulling you close to him. You could hear his snicker when he was close to you.

However, he then made a confused noise before he gripped both your shoulders, forcing you to stand facing him properly.

“W-What?”

“There's a hickey.” Nikolai frowned, his finger pressing a spot on your neck. You gulped and quickly held his wrist to prevent him from touching you any further.

“I smell a faint scent of a man on your clothes too...”

“Nikolai..! Let's ignore this and let's just eat, okay?” you held both his wrists and tried to pull him to the bench. But Nikolai tensed himself, making it harder for you to drag him. You sighed and looked at him, shaking your head.

“Please don't make this harder for me...”

“I don't like it...”

“Yes, I know you don't like it but—”

“Wash it off.”

“What?”

Nikolai yanked his hand from your grip, only to hold your neck again. “Wash this off. Wash his scent off. I don't like it. I don't wanna smell his lingering scent. I hate it. I'll even wipe them off for you. Let's go. Let's go to the toilet and wash you off. I don't like it. I don't like him. I hate him. He hurt you and tainted you. I hate it.” he spoke, a bit demanding. Too demanding, to be honest.

“Okay, okay! I'll wash it off later! I promise this mark will be gone tomorrow, okay? But I really need you to eat now. Really, I'll make sure you won't smell any trace of my fiancé at all tomorrow.” you said, attempting a negotiation.

“.... Promise?”

“Yes, Nikolai. I promise. Now let's eat, okay?”

You and Nikolai finally sat down on the bench together. You silently exhaled a long breath in relief. The day was too hectic for you — your fiancé dragging you, losing Nikolai but then he acted weird. When your shift ended, you might have to face your fiancé again in your shared dormitory.

“You're gloomy now. What happened?” Nikolai asked as he mindlessly played with his food. You glanced at him and shook your head, letting out an awkward laugh.

“I think I'm very tired to explain anything right now. I'm just feeling too exhausted today. Everyone has that particular day once in a while.” you replied, nonchalantly. Nikolai however watched you in silence. He then hummed before sighing.

“I pity you.”

“What?”

“You're bounded to rules and regulations. And you are aware of that. Now, let's not lie to ourselves about those bruises, love. We both know what most likely happened. You're like a bird, aware that it is trapped but made no effort to get the key. You're only flapping your wings to avoid unwanted touches but you're still flying in your own cage.” Nikolai spoke, eyes solemnly looking down.

“... What are you implying, then?”

“You kinda reminded me of myself at some point in my life.” Nikolai snickered. You side-eyed him and just returned to your food.

“You mentioned how you wanted to get rid of your emotions. Yet, here you are, sympathising with me and my fate. You even wrote letters for people and most likely reminisced fragments of your life while doing so. You desperately want to run away but why do you keep coming back?” you asked, finally sparing a look at him. Instead of a shocked face, Nikolai was looking at you with somberity, sprinkled with a little crook of a smile.

“I could not describe how exactly I felt when I killed him. It felt light in here, as if nothing was confining it. Freedom. That might be how freedom feels like. Liberating, albeit for a short moment — for a new heaviness came to engulf me again.”

“I wanted to feel that relief again. I wanted to feel that liberation, that freedom. So I poured my heart to my darlings and basked them in affection that I know would kill both of us. If I indulged myself in much painful brainwashing, then when I get rid of it, I would achieve much pleasant freedom, no? That's what I thought. But it's never enough — I would never feel the same way when I killed him, none could make me feel as free as he did.”

“But I think... maybe I've found the perfect one now.”

You gulped, immediately breaking eye contact when you felt a slight unease. “... I.. I see..” you replied, low enough just for him to hear that affirmation. “... The greater the suffering, the greater the freedom,” you mumbled.

“Guess you are braver than I am, battling your own head while being aware of the consequences,” you commented. Though, you sounded like you were very uninterested and exhausted. How could you not?

You felt your energy was drained to zero and you did not feel like eating at all now. Furthermore, the meal that was given to the patients simply looked dry as hell — a true prisoner's food. They even tasted bland.

Silence surrounded the two of you. You just focused on trying to swallow the awful food, completely unaware of what Nikolai was doing.

“Dove, look.”

You turned to Nikolai, expecting his shenanigans. And just as you expected, he was holding a tissue with two fingers. Then with his other free empty hand, he made a fist. He covered his fist and gestured to you to blow on it.

“What?”

“Blow on it! You might get a prize!”

You looked at him confused and half-heartedly blew on the tissue. Suddenly he pulled the tissue away, only to show a single red blooming rose in his hand. Your eyes widened in surprise at the trick and Nikolai laughed softly at your expression.

“A rose, for the most beautiful dove I've ever seen.”

He gave the rose to you and you took it. A small smile curved on your lips.

“Waa! Now you are finally smiling! Do you wanna see more magic tricks?” Nikolai asked before he showed his hand. Empty on the back, empty on the palm. Then he trailed his hand on your hair, to the back of your neck and pulled back, only to show you a red fluffy ball in his hand.

“Huh? Where did that...?” you touched your hair, trying to feel if he had hidden anything but you did not feel anything weird.

“Not yet! I'm not done!” Nikolai closed his hand around the fluffy red ball. He poked his fist twice and opened his palm again, only to reveal three fluffy balls in his hand now.

“What?”

“Whoops! Not yet.” he closed his hand again around those three red balls. He then took your hand, placing it on top of his. “Say my name softly.”

“N-Nikolai...?”

“Haha! You're easy to trick! I just wanna listen to that.” he cackled. “But here you go, princess.”

He pulled his fist away from you and suddenly swung that hand in your direction. Instead of three fluffy balls being thrown at you, it was a rain of red petals.

“How did you do that?!” you cooed in amazement, hands open to reach the petal. They were real flowers, at least you felt so. You unknowingly giggled to yourself — for some reason, having petals thrown at you made you feel like some kind of princess in a telenovela.

“Did you feel better now?” Nikolai asked, standing up proudly. Both of your meals had been contaminated by the red petals and you were sure Nikolai did not want to eat such things anyway.

“If you still feel sad, I can give you more magic! Will you believe it if I say I trained the birds to do tricks with me? Like those in a circus, haha!”

“Your magic does make me feel better... Thank you,” you uttered, smiling nicely at him as your finger traced the rose. “Hopefully you did not pluck this from the crop. You might get in trouble with the gardener,” you commented.

“Who knows, who knows!” Nikolai laughed. Then he stepped closer to you.

“Red suits you, love! Red suits us, no? Your surprised face when surrounded by those pretty crimson petals was such a nice sight. I'm the luckiest man on earth to be able to witness such magnificent beauty, enough to make my breathing stop! How beautiful! How powerful! You're such a lovely girl, it's a shame...”

His fingers tucked your chin and he went closer.

“What a shame, there were more disgusting reds on you.”

And at that moment, you felt a delicate touch on your cheek — and when his lips touched that spot on your skin, you felt a light painful sting as it was a new red on you. But the sting was not for long as the way he stilled his lips on you felt too soft and tender. His thumb traced your lips, rubbing them ever so carefully and lovingly.

Lovingly.

“Did I kiss it better, love?”

You did not know how things escalated. Ever since that night, you made the effort to always have dinner with Nikolai, be it in the garden or the cafeteria, sometimes even in his room. It was better to stay overtime instead of coming home early only to your fiancé.

But your fiancé was quick to catch up on your lateness when you came home. Arguments erupted and you were afraid to spend more time with your patient. Nikolai even complained about how your fiancé often bothered him, which you believed almost immediately since you knew that bastard most likely did it.

“Are you gonna go back right on time again today?” Nikolai asked, holding your hand as he did not want to leave the lounge yet. If you were almost off duty, you should bring your patient back to their ward.

“Yes, Kolya. Come on, let's clean up this mess and go back to your ward,” you said as you took the box for the board game to tidy up.

“No, no! I don't wanna go back yet.” he held your wrist tightly. “Please, spend more time with me. Why're you so eager to leave me nowadays? I thought we...”

You felt a pang of guilt in your heart when you saw Nikolai was being crystal clear upset. You weren't sure what he thought of that soft kiss on the cheek he gave to you that night but he probably thought whatever relationship you two had right now had evolved. He had a unique way of thinking after all.

“Nikolai... I care about you, alright? But if I breach my regulations multiple times, I might get in trouble.” you tried to explain. Nikolai clicked his tongue and tightened his grip around your wrist, making you more nervous.

“Your fiancé gave you the trouble, right? He's always bothering me too.” Nikolai said. “Don't go yet,” he added, insisting to have you keep playing board games and cards with him. You shook your head, giving up on keeping your facade.

“Why? Why are you so scared of that bastard so much? Aren't you supposed to devote your time to your patient? I am your patient — so devote yourself to playing games with me.” Nikolai whined, shaking your hand like a child trying to force their parents.

“I can't, Kolya...! He threatened me. If I work overtime again, he'll claim that I'm getting attached to you. Maybe it could even escalate to accusations about helping you escape. I can't risk that. I can't risk anything now — I have no one and nowhere to go to if I lose this job.”

“....” Nikolai stared at you for a moment before he let go of your wrist. He turned glum and just slumped over the couch as he let you tidy all the pieces from the board game on the table. Awkwardness clouded the room as you silently cleaned up and put things according to their places.

“Be honest, dove,” he spoke, causing you to halt your work for a minute. You turned your head to him and Nikolai was still looking down at the empty table. But in his hand, he was playing with a red ball, squeezing it and kneading it.

“Don't you want to bleed those who bruised you?”

“To swallow such pain... To allow people to step on you, control your every manner — as long as you can still live another day just the way your brain had engraved.”

“Are you scared, dove?”

You did not respond as you turned your head away from him, not wanting to entertain his riddle this time. But Nikolai was not having it as he stood up, stepping closer to you. Without saying anything, he slithered his arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

“Are you scared, my dove?” he repeated. You tried to push him away gently but with his free hand, he held yours tenderly, unlike how aggressive he was just now. You felt his breath getting heavier as you noticed from the corner of your eyes that he was resting his head on your shoulder.

His hand that was on your waist started to knead your flesh, purposely putting more pressure on a spot where he knew he could get a small painful shriek from you. And you did, body wiggling trying to avoid his intentful touch — it backfired as it just caused you to snuggle against his face.

His cold lips traced your hair and then to the shell of your ear.

“I love you, dove. And I'll help you fly too.”

To convince Nikolai to let you go was hard. You had to make up promises and oaths to negotiate with him — which was easy to utter but not easy when Nikolai started to demand you to do those promises. Whatever, as long as you're free for now.

The walk to his ward was quiet. As usual, he wanted to hold hands while walking, so you let him — would be another headache if he started to whine and be forceful. At least it felt nice. You noticed how Nikolai liked to rub his thumb on your skin and he would grip you a bit harder when you two were making a turn. His fingers were also long and slender, though somewhat veiny.

“We are here, Kolya,” you said when you two were finally in front of his ward. You took out the key to his ward from your pocket and unlocked the door. You also scanned your keycard — double lock, double safety as the higher-ups said.

You opened the door and motioned to him to enter his ward. Nikolai glanced at you and then at your hands. You waited for him to finally enter and after a few minutes of being in silence, Nikolai stepped into his ward.

But he didn't let go of your hand yet.

“My love.”

“Yes, Kolya?”

He turned to you, smiling. Then he leaned forward and you knew, stepping back would only make him move forward and further out from his ward. So you stayed still.

“Brave girl now, huh? Think it's time...”

“What?”

“Nothing... Anyway, I have a request,” he said. You tilted your head, listening. Nikolai smirked.

“I heard from other patients that there is a circus show in town. I would love to watch it.”

“A... A circus show?” you asked, trying to confirm and Nikolai nodded. You looked at him oddly. “You wanna go out from the facility to watch a circus show?” you asked again and his answer was the same — a nod.

“Yes. Yes to all, darling. Could you do that? I just... Well, it's been months now and I really yearn to watch a circus show.” he said. You bit your lips, head hanging low as you thought of his wish. Of course you could request the matron to bring him out with extra supervision. But the possibility of Nikolai trying to escape was still very much big.

“I'll think about it..” you replied, smiling at him.

“Thank you, love. I expect good news.” Nikolai grinned. You let go of his hand finally and held the door to close. But Nikolai still wanted his bits of freedom.

“One more! Can you come closer for a second?”

You obliged, stepping closer but your hands were still on the door. Nikolai flashed you his usual coy gleam before he leaned forward. A soft kiss landed on your forehead and a dainty giggle emitted from him.

“Goodnight, sweetheart!”

And he himself pulled the door to his ward closed.

You stood in front of his ward, frozen. Your hand reached up to your forehead, on the spot where he kissed. A light chuckle crumbled from your throat as you left the hallway.

As tomorrow made its way, you were still following the same routine. And Nikolai did not fail to bring up the circus show topic again.

“How did you even listen to some conversation about this circus show?” you asked as you watched Nikolai carefully stroking the bird on his hand with his finger. You two were at the birdhouses — Nikolai's favourite place aside from the lounge.

“While you were gone for a moment, I bother people. So I bothered some patients and listened to their conversations. Apparently, there's an organization specialised in circus show that is performing in funfairs.” Nikolai said before he gently moved the bird off his hand.

“So? What's the verdict? Can we go out on a date?” he snickered.

“A date? No, no... Nikolai, of course there are cases where the patient could leave the asylum for a while but that requires heavy supervision.” you replied. “Not to mention, your reputation...”

“Well, that's to be expected, no? No way this facility would let someone like me escape easily!”

Then Nikolai — dramatically — grasped both your hands, holding them close to his heart. “Please, love? I really want to watch a circus show. It's fine if it's such a shitty non-popular troop but circus... that... that was once important for me.”

“Do you have some sort of past regarding a circus?” you asked.

“... Well, you might find out one day,” Nikolai replied as he looked at your hands. His smile deepened as he brought both your hands to cup his cheeks, providing warmth in the early winter.

“You feel cold, Kolya...”

“You too, dove. But your touch is just so comforting, I could bask in it no matter how frosty you feel,” he murmured as he tilted his head, pressing kisses on your palm. Your fingers clenched — tensed as you did not expect Nikolai to smooch your skin again in the span of twenty-four hours.

“Urm...”

“You aren't afraid of me anymore. I'm happy.” Nikolai muttered before his hold on your hands became loose and you took the chance to pull away. You rubbed your hands together, trying to calm your heart and console the lingering coldness from his touch.

“I really hope you'd consider it. I don't mind if there would be three or more guards following us along to the circus show. I don't mind wearing an electronic tag if they wanted to track my location. They can put me in a strap jacket, I don't care. I just really want to watch a circus show.” Nikolai rambled as his finger scratched the wooden wall of the birdhouses.

“Besides, the circus show most likely will be held during the night when the fun fair is at its peak of entertainment. That, my love, could be more reason for you to not come back to that bastard,” he added and strangely, his voice lowered a few tones while speaking the last bits — like a snake trying to slither its way into your mind.

And it did.

Logically, if you were to come home late — probably after your fiancé had gone asleep, you could avoid arguments and have a reason as to why you are late. I was on duty and the matron got the notice. You cannot threaten to report me because I was literally working! — Yeah, that would be perfect. Even for a temporary escape, at least you could enjoy a circus and come home without worry.

“My dove? What say you?”

“... The matron might be in her office this evening. I have to leave you alone for a moment if I want to bring this up to her,” you said and Nikolai cooed in eagerness.

“So we will go for a circus date?”

“Not yet, Kolya. Please keep your expectation low. Until the matron gives permission and some regulations for me to follow to bring you out, let's not get our hopes high up.” you stated. But regardless you smiled at him.

Nikolai grinned — though you had seen him grinning multiple times, this time you felt different about it. It was not uneasiness, nor discomfort.

Tricky. Perhaps enigmatic.

It was surprising that the matron actually allowed you to bring Nikolai out for a circus show. You did say how the circus was important for Nikolai and it might help with his mental development — guess your excuses worked.

So for a few days, you made your research on where would be the nearest circus show. Fortunately, there was one funfair that was organising a circus show and the journey to go there took almost two hours. But that'd be fine since you wouldn't be the one driving.

Regardless, he needed a lot of supervision. Three guards would follow along and drive you two to the circus show. You were also provided with a taser in case he tried to do anything nasty and an electronic tag that will be worn by Nikolai.

“It's heavy,” he murmured as you put the electronic tag around his ankle. You two were now in his ward and a guard was waiting as he was also one of the guards following you to the circus. Instead of your usual attendant uniform, you were wearing casually — black pants with a sweater-like blouse and a brown coat. Nikolai was still dressed in his white patient suit.

“Is it? I can't loosen it because it's a precaution. If you're too uncomfortable to walk, then tell me.”

“It's uncomfy.” Nikolai pouted but before you could reply, a hoarse voice broke the conversation.

“Don't whine so much. You are still a dangerous person.” the guard said, sternly. But then his tone changed when he turned to you, speaking to you with respect. “Miss, the car is already waiting at the asylum gate,” he said.

“Oh! Well, then... Kolya, come. We can go now.” you took Nikolai's hand and he got up from his bed, walking out with you. But you were quick to let his hand go as you did not want to make the guard suspicious if you keep holding him. As you both left the ward, the guard closed the door to his ward and locked it with his master key.

“Come, follow me.”

Nikolai was forced to walk right beside the guard. You just followed behind closely. A good handful of the patients were not afraid of the guards and Nikolai was certainly one of them as he kept bothering and riddling with the guard.

“Argh... miss, is he always like this?” the guard groaned as Nikolai tried to blow a raspberry at him. He tried to avoid him and Nikolai only laughed seeing his disgusted face. “I'm gonna spit on you if you're doing this again.” he threatened.

“Oh? I can't say I hate that.” Nikolai grinned, slightly nudging the guard's foot.

“Stop it. Behave yourself.”

“You might not get this experience to befriend a patient after this, guardian!” Nikolai exclaimed, swinging his body left and right which caused the guard to tighten his grip on him.

“Uh... he's just happy to go to the circus, I think...” you replied, looking at the guard with an awkward smile. The guard looked at you, defeatedly and sighed.

The three of you were now outside but then, Nikolai stopped his track right before the door. You almost bumped onto his back, even. The guard looked at him weirdly but not saying anything as Nikolai turned to look at you.

“I'm cold.”

“Y-You're cold?” you asked, trying to get more information from his vague words.

“Yes.. I am cold. I'll be cold. You two are wearing thick clothing but I'm still in my patient suit. It's thin and I'm cold.” Nikolai almost stammered but you got what he wanted to say anyway.

“So, do you want a blanket or something? I could find one since we aren't very far from the laundry area,” you asked. His eyes peered at you as his lips made a small crook.

“I'm fine with anything. I'm just cold.” Nikolai replied.

“Miss, can we even take a blanket out? The laundry attendants are always quick to file a complaint.” the guard asked.

“I doubt they would even allow me to bring out a blanket,” you replied, rubbing your lips as you thought. Then you looked at Nikolai, “Nikolai, would a coat be fine for you? An overcoat, perhaps?”

“That’s more than perfect, love.”

“Oh, well. I think there might be some overcoats in the office or dormitory. It's not far from here, so can you bring Nikolai to the car first?” you asked the guard. He nodded and practically dragged Nikolai to the car. As they left, you turned around to go to your small quest — to get an overcoat for your cold patient.

A few moments later, you managed to borrow an overcoat from a male colleague. The coat was big enough and it seemed that it would fit Nikolai's figure. Satisfied enough, you immediately made your way to the car, seeing that Nikolai was already annoying the guards.

“Nikolai! Here's your overcoat,” you said as you approached them. Nikolai happily opened his arms and you unhesitatingly put on the overcoat from him. “Is it comfortable for you?”

Nikolai looked at you and then opened the coat a bit to see the inside. He let out a chortle. “Yes, very much. Thank you, dear.”

“You're welcome. Just say to me if you need anything. I am still in my role after all.” you replied. Nikolai sneered before he tapped the car, wanting to get in already. A guard opened the door to the backseat and urged the two of you to enter as the other two guards went to the front passenger and the driver seat.

The journey was long — the asylum was located in an isolated area after all. Nikolai was just silent most of the ride as he was scolded to shut up and you were left on your own to carry on conversations.

“It's been a while since you left the facility, eh?” one of the guards asked you.

“Yeah, it has been almost a year, I think...”

“A year?! How can you not be sick in the facility, miss?” the guard replied in surprise. You let out a timid laugh.

“I see no reason to leave. I mean, groceries are all provided and we can just ask the matron if we ran out of something,” you said. “Besides, I always have new patients after a certain period. There's no time for me to leave my duty,” you added.

“Damn, you're a hard-working girl, aren't ya? Your future boyfriend must be one lucky guy.” the other guard commented. Nikolai turned to you and you just shook your head — signalling to him to not comment anything. You did not make your marital status public after all. Only your fiancé was busy running his mouth.

“Don't you have a boyfriend, miss? You seemed like so, since you aren't afraid sitting in a car with four men. Haha!” one of the guards joked and you bit your inside cheek, finding his joke distasteful. You frowned a little, unpleased.

“Don't say that, bald ass,” Nikolai spoke out.

“What did you call me?”

“Bald ass!”

“Nikolai—! Let's not fight, okay? Behave yourself.” you immediately held him and Nikolai only clicked his tongue before he slipped his hand out of his coat and leaned back with a dissatisfied huff.

“Yeah, listen to her, criminal.” the guard snickered. Nikolai glared at him and then at you. You only tapped his shoulder, mouthing 'No, please.' to him. His eyes trailed down and he only pursed his lips.

The ride was silent — awkward. And that awkwardness finally ended when you finally arrived at the funfair. The funfair was rained with colourful lights and people. There was a big sign of a circus troop that would be performing for the night too. Kids and adults all around, jovial and blithesome.

Nikolai shifted in his seat as he looked out the window in delight. He even undid his seatbelt first, eager to step into the funfair.

“Wait, Nikolai! Don't just barge out of the car, okay? You'll have all the time you want after this.” you gripped his arm, stopping him from doing anything reckless.

“Miss, we are all gonna wait here. You have the thing, yeah?”

The taser. You nodded after subtly feeling the pocket in your brown coat. With some more affirmation from the guards, you and Nikolai finally left the car. He was clearly excited as he immediately dragged you to enter the funfair area.

“Come, come! The show is about to begin, right?” he asked as you two stepped further inside the funfair. Fun rides and stalls were all around and Nikolai was eyeing each of them — his gazes glistened with pure joy and impatience.

“Uh, well, the show will begin at 10 a.m. and we have like one hour more. What would you like to do, Kolya? I rarely go to this kind of place, so I'm not very well-versed.” you said and Nikolai beamed as he gripped your hand, linking your fingers together with him.

“Then, no worries! I can show you around! This is my place to show off, hahaha!”

Nikolai was true to his words — he really did know this kind of place very well. You two began at a nearby ball and bottle game booth where they prepared various prizes. But you were sure no one ever really won those since all the participants before you left with small cheap prizes. Not to mention the bottle looked heavy and the balls provided to throw onto them looked squeaky.

But,

“Got it! I knocked the gold bottle! Haha! Suck it!”

You and the operator were both shocked when Nikolai managed to knock the highest bottle on the bar. The bottle wiggled when the ball touched it and it then fall to the ground.

“W-Woah..! You are very strong, sir! You can choose any of these items to be your prize.” the operator said, showing a row of stuffed toys and expensive gadgets for his choices.

“That teddy bear looked nice!”

The operator looked baffled. He took the teddy bear — it was not large, just small and cute, with a basic 'I love you' written in red cursive. The teddy bear even held a bouquet of roses. But certainly, out of other stuffed toys and prizes, it looked decent at the very least.

“This? Oh... Okay..”

As soon as Nikolai got the teddy bear, he pushed it straight to your face, giggling. You only chuckled as you took the teddy bear. You looked up at him. “You're not gonna make this little guy your sleeping partner?”

“I'd have a better sleeping partner.”

Mismatched eyes leering on your face down to your figure. Then moved up again to admire your light fluster.

“F-Funny, huh,” you replied as you hugged the teddy bear. “Thank you.”

“All for you, dove,” Nikolai replied, smiling coyly before he dragged you to another booth.

“How'd you even win that game? It is clearly rigged,” you asked with his arm hooked with yours — almost like a couple — and Nikolai even pulled you closer to have you keep rubbing against him.

“I rigged the game too. Magic!” he tugged his coat proudly and you could only look at him confused by what he meant.

The two of you walked around the fair until it was twenty minutes left before the show. The audience for the circus show was already gathering and some of them were already inside the circus tent. You kept Nikolai closed as the two of you lined up with the rest to enter.

“There's a lot of people. Is it usually like this for a circus show?” you asked, making a conversation as Nikolai was eating his cotton candy. He hummed and nodded as he plucked a small amount of cotton candy before giving it to you.

“Guess it's a popular troop if there are this many people,” he replied before he slipped the candy into the small gap between your lips. Your eyes flashed up to him as he slowly retracted his fingers away from your mouth, taking the chance to rub your lip with his thumb.

“Which means, the performers are most likely professionals. What luck, no?” he added as he nonchalantly licked that very thumb. “Hm~ sweeter. Strawberry lip gloss today, dear?”

“S-Stop it...”

You looked away, pursing your lips to swallow embarrassment at his nonstop flirting.

Almost five minutes before the show, you and Nikolai were already seated in the tent. Your position was at the last row but the highest, allowing you to look at the performance better. Then, the lights went out one by one, leaving the middle light on to focus on the stage.

“I'm so excited...” Nikolai muttered. “Can I hold your hand?” he asked and you silently held his hand without saying anything. He made his usual happy noises as he gripped your hand tightly yet carefully.

The show began, at last, starting with an acrobatic act from a couple of performers. You started to enjoy the show as the acts were amazing and eye-catching.

A magician came to the stage, making a magic trick involving white doves. And you could see how Nikolai was leaning forward in interest. The magician first summoned a single dove from his hat and then he continued the act by putting the calm bird into an open glass container. The container then was covered with a thick black cloth.

“Oh my.”

As soon as the black cloth was removed, several doves flew out from the container. You cooed in amusement, seeing the birds fly highly around the tent, not daring to go down further to the audience. The magician started to move to his next tricks, leaving his doves resting on the tent's bars.

But you sensed something weird.

For someone that claimed to love birds so much, Nikolai certainly was quiet.

So you turned to him, only to see that he was staring at one dove that was resting right by a small transparent section on the tent, looking outside. Even with the entrance door wide open, none of the doves flew out.

You wondered what he would be thinking. You wanted to ask but he seemed to be drowning in his mind.

So you let him be.

The show ended two and a half hours later. It took a while to leave the tent as there were probably hundreds of people, but you two managed to leave anyway. The funfair was still active, and people were still in their own world, merrymaking. Lights were still on, rides were still moving.

“That was great, dove! I'm happy that you picked a good circus show! Yippee!” Nikolai playfully raised both your hands to force you to make a 'Hooray!' pose and you just laughed. He even raised the teddy bear that you had been carrying since the beginning like his own son.

“I'm glad you like it, Kolya. It's worth the trouble,” you replied, eyes gleaming as you also felt glad that Nikolai was enjoying the show.

But then, you felt a buzz in your pocket. You slipped your hand into it, taking out your phone. One of the guards was now calling you. You glanced at Nikolai and raised your palm to pause him.

“What? Your fiancé called?”

“No, the guard.”

You answered the call, putting the phone right by your ear. Nikolai's eyes squinted in curiosity and knowing you have to be in a good manner to your colleague, Nikolai lunged himself to your back, hugging you tightly as he rested his head on your shoulder, attempting to listen to the conversation.

“Oh— Agh— Hello?” you squealed at his action but quickly maintained your professionalism with the person on the other side.

“Miss, the show has ended, yes?”

“Yes, yes! We just left the tent. We will come out the fair—” your words were interrupted when Nikolai pulled your phone away from your ear. He shook his head, not wanting to go back yet. You looked at him, rethinking.

“You wanna do something else here, Kolya?” you asked, slightly rotating your body to look at him better. Nikolai seemed taken aback and panicking subtly as his eyes shook from your eyes to your lips.

“Uhm... Uh, Ferris wheel.”

You understood quickly and nodded. “Okay... Okay, we'll ride that and then we go home. Is that okay with you?” you asked and Nikolai nodded before he turned you around to keep hugging you from behind. You only let him — you had grown used to his touchy behaviour after all.

You put the phone back on your ear. “We will get on one last ride. It won't take long, I think. Probably around thirty minutes.” you said. Gladly the guard only sighed and allowed you two to go on the ride. He also reminded you that they're waiting at the parking lot now.

“Yeah, thank you,” you said before ending the call. You tapped Nikolai's arm and he relaxed his hold on you to let you go. “We can ride the Ferris wheel, Kolya. Just one round, okay? Pretty sure it's expensive.”

“Yeah! Yeah, let's go!”

The line to the Ferris wheel was long indeed. Most of the people were couples and families. After fifteen minutes of waiting, you and Nikolai finally get to a cabin. It was a bit wobbly and you had to grip on Nikolai to have him help you to get in.

“Phew, that's scary.” you sat at the seat across from him. You placed the teddy bear right by your side as Nikolai scooted closer to the window, leaving the spot next to him empty.

Not for long.

“Dove. Come sit here.” he gently took your hand, urging you to sit beside him.

“Huh? Wouldn't the cabin be unbalanced?”

“No, it won't! You're funny, aren't you? It's fine, if you stumble, I'll catch you.” Nikolai said, voice soft as to reassure you. He seemed to notice that you disliked the wobbly feeling and he held your hand tightly to ensure you.

So you quickly steered to the spot right next to him, a bit stumbling. And Nikolai was quick to hold you by your waist, “I got you, love.” he chuckled.

“Are you scared of heights? Now now, how cute is that? My little birdie is afraid of heights.”

“I'm not scared. It's just this... this thing is wonky and shaky,” you replied, slightly pouting at his teasing. Nikolai laughed softly before he returned to look out the window as the cabin was starting to reach the top of the circle.

“Oh, would you look at that, dear? The troop from the circus is walking around the fair to greet people.” Nikolai pointed to a spot and you slid closer to him to look out the window too. “Oh! The magician is surrounded by his doves!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“Oh yeah. He looked majestic indeed with that unique white magician suit,” you commented.

Nikolai cackled to himself before he turned his head to you — and you did so. It accidentally caused your face to be closer to him. And that panicky look returned to Nikolai again. His eyes were shaky and twitchy, roaming on your every feature carefully as if to savour your whole beauty — and no one could miss his lingering stare on your lips.

This is dangerous. In a way.

“S-Sorry...” you mumbled as you tried to move back but Nikolai quickly had his arm right on your back, preventing you to move away. His other hand fondled your face, thumb rubbing your lips as his eyes stared yearningly at them.

He closed the gap between your faces and you felt as if your mind was starting to cloud with thoughts. You thought of many things and it was hard to process everything. Familiar heaviness returned, creeping its way around your ribs to cage your heart.

“Just a taste won't hurt.”

— he whispered before he placed a gentle and mellow kiss on the very corner of your lips. It lasted for several seconds and you felt dizzy at the serenity of it. Soft, peaceful, nice — it felt like new to you. And your rebellious head would just keep coming back to your early memories where you felt this kind of affection.

You missed it — the taste of that intimacy.

Just a taste won't hurt.

Tilting your head slightly, your lips barely brushed Nikolai's. Your noses touched against each other and you could feel twitching on his fingers. You could even listen to his slow yet heavy breathing. Your hand straggled up his body, stopping right where his heart should be — loud and fast.

Just a taste won't hurt, he says.

You shifted forward and with seconds passing, your lips finally connected with his. The hold on your face became tighter as Nikolai's fingers reached the back of your head, pushing you closer as he started to savour you — desperately.

He suckled on your lips, slightly nibbling on the tip of your tongue as his hands started to roam your body. The kiss broke for a bit before he continued to latch his lips on yours, swallowing your little mewl. The closer you leaned to him, the more desperate he became as he trailed his kisses to your jaw down to your neck.

“Hm...!” you moaned softly as he nibbled your skin. You felt stings on that spot and lightly pushed him to break away. Nikolai parted from you, his eyes glimmered at the dark mark on your neck.

“Now, that's pretty.”

You took deep breaths, trying to gain your thoughts and conscience. You just kissed your patient, whom you're supposed to take care of professionally. You were still engaged and your fiancé was probably waiting in your dormitory right at this hour. Isn't this technically cheating?

“Oh God... Oh God, Oh God..!” you started to freak out.

Possibilities and assumptions flooding your head. You broke regulations and your kiss with Nikolai might get you in legal trouble. Of course, you could escape your fiancé for a while but that doesn't mean he wouldn't feed lies about you — Circus show with Nikolai? Is this truly a work or an excuse for a date? Why does your own patient often touch you intimately? Why do you keep breaching the rules with him? Are you in a relationship with this criminal? Are you assisting in his escape? Did you abandon your engaged partner to spend more time during the night with your patient? What if they fire you and put Nikolai in harsher punishment? Forget about all of that, what if your fiancé bruised you again out of suspicion? Perhaps out of his own ideas and assumptions? What if he creates lies about Nikolai to have him transferred or worse, executed? What if he saw this mark and forced you to have sex with him to rebuild intimacy? Is this too far? Aren't you out of reach now?

“You're smitten by me, aren't you, dove?”

You glanced at Nikolai in fear. He was smiling yet it was solemn. His index finger touched your lips, teasing them.

“You're smitten by me and you did not realize it until now. You initiated the kiss. But that's fine, I'm not mad. I always love you, even your flaws.” he murmured. You shook your head and just then you felt a warm wetness stream down your cheek.

“Why're you crying, darling?” his large hand cupped your face, rubbing the tears off. “My dove, my poor dove... You're such a strong girl, aren't you? Battling with your own head by yourself — but it's fine. I understand you. I see you.” he whispered to you softly, voice sultry enough to comfort your conflict even a little.

“T-This is weird... This is wrong... I feel bad... I feel like something bad is going to happen to me...”

Nikolai chuckled before he pecked your lips, short and delicate, enough to halt the brawl in your head. The peck was so casual as if there was already something deeper between the two of you.

“It's fine. It's fine, my love. I promise everything will be fine. No one will know. No one will hurt you anymore.”

“There they are.”

One of the guards immediately woke his sleepy friends. They quickly got into their role. One of them started the car engine. The guard that sat in the backseat left the car to get your attention.

You and Nikolai approached the car. Your face was covered with clear exhaustion and gloominess — totally a damsel in distress. Meanwhile, Nikolai looked cheerful and bright. He also looked satisfied as if he just accomplished something.

“Welcome back, miss. Ready to go?” the guard asked.

“Huh? Yeah...” you replied, voice distracted. At this point, you just wanted to submerge your head underwater and never wake up. But that would be absurd.

“We had fun, police!” Nikolai said. The guard tsk'd and opened the car door.

“I'm not a police.” he sighed. “Quick. Come in and let's bring you back to where you belong, eh?” he said sarcastically to Nikolai. He clutched Nikolai's arm roughly to force him to enter the car.

“Okay, okay! Jeez! I have legs!” Nikolai whined. Then he turned to you. “Dear, you good? You don't leave anything, yeah?” he asked. You nodded as you thoughtlessly felt your pocket. Your face then washed with panic as you realized you did not have your phone.

“Miss?”

“Crap... I think I left my phone at the ride.” you groaned, frustrated at the things that happened today.

“Oh, you know where it is?”

“Yeah, most likely in the Ferris wheel. I'll just go grab it quickly,” you said as you gave Nikolai the teddy bear. “Nikolai... Stay here with the others. I won't be long.” you added, sensing Nikolai wanted to follow you. His hopeful smile drooped into a pout as he entered the car.

You left the parking lot and entered the funfair again. You jogged to the Ferris wheel section and directly went to the operator. You asked about your lost phone and thankfully he had it kept in his station. You retrieved your phone and checked if there were any important messages. Gladly there weren't except a few missed calls from your fiancé. You decided to ignore it for now and kept the phone in your pocket. Making sure the item was really in your coat, you headed to the exit.

The parking lot was dark since it was in a field that was in front of the funfair. As you recalled, the car was parked at the back where it was even darker. You weren't afraid that much — you did have your taser after all.

But what awaited you was even dreadful.

Three bodies were laying on the ground, right beside the car. All of them were wearing the asylum guard uniform. Your breath hitched as you stepped back. You were not sure if you wanted to check the bodies. But the blood pooling under their head certainly told you that they're most likely dead. There were even splatters of blood were painting the car windows.

“P-Police..! I should call—”

You could not find your phone.

You were sure you had it. You made a double check but your phone was nowhere to be found. Even your taser was not in your pocket anymore.

“What the hell...!”

“Shush, you might attract people, doll.”

A strong arm rested around your shoulder as a familiar man slopped right beside you. You glanced at him in fear as you noticed his hand was bloody and the other was holding a gun. Smudges of crimson were also present on his face.

“Nikolai..?”

“Shush, I say. Admire my presents for you.”

His bloody finger pressed against your lips and you swore you could smell fresh blood from it — it felt like the smell was engulfing your system as you started to feel dizzy at how strong it was. You pushed his arm off and stepped away from him.

Nikolai tilted his head. His upper half was smeared with blood. The overcoat was stained too. The electronic tag was nowhere around his ankle. He smiled before he wiped the blood off his hand.

“Sorry! Must've smelled uncommon for someone like you, yea?” he laughed. You looked at him warily as you slowly raised both your hands in the air, surrendering. There was no way you could fight or counter him, especially when he had a gun in hand. Especially since it just dawned on you that he had an ability.

But — didn't he tell people that his white cloak was necessary for his ability? Did he lie to the world?

“Y-You can run... I won't tell a soul. I won't attempt to stop you. Just... Just spare my life.” you stammered. Nikolai suddenly burst out a laugh as he strode towards you with wide steps. He kept chiming 'My darling, my darling,' several times as he walked around you in a circle with his gun against your body.

And he stopped when he was finally right in front of you.

“Sparing your life? And then what? Having you return to that boring asylum? Having you return to your... your fiancé — that fucking bastardized piece of garbage? No, no! I wouldn't dare to let my bird suffer! She shall suffer no more!” he spoke, theatrically.

“T-Then, what are you going to do with me..? Whatever happened between us is surely part of your escape plan, isn't it..?” you asked, feeling small and extremely vulnerable. Nikolai grinned before he wrapped his arm around your waist and held your hand as if you two were about to dance.

“No. No, everything I say to you is honest. I truly love you, from the very beginning I saw you. My nights are just spent thinking about you. I would think about our time spent on that day and what might happen tomorrow. You made me look forward to my life — and I love you for that.”

He leaned forward, nuzzling his face against your neck, tracing his lips to your cheek. And your breathing was staggering as you tried to wiggle your way, but it only made Nikolai press you deeper and closer into his warm embrace.

“I'm not done, love. Stay still.”

Though he was not scolding or raising his voice, you still heard that shadow of threat behind it. So you tried to stay still as Nikolai gave you kisses upon kisses on your warm face.

“I get so excited when it is almost your duty time. I get so happy when you smile at my magic. Your face, when you lost a game against me, was so cute, I almost wanted to crush you. When you touch me, goodness, when you touch me...! I couldn't control my heart. I feel like I could explode. And I look forward to each day passing to see if you could let me hold your hand while we are walking. I even touched myself with that very hand — you can't imagine how hard I'd get just with the thought of you sleeping right next to me, trusting me with your very heart. You don't know what you did to me, love. You made me feel things. You made me feel everything — and I think, maybe I could finally taste that same freedom I've craved for.”

You looked at Nikolai with teary eyes and a fearful gaze. He was blushing madly and his breathing was rigid. “Love, can I kiss you?” he asked softly.

“No. No, you can't,” you said, trying to assert a harder tone in your voice. Nikolai's dreamy eyes lost their spark as he looked at you perplexed.

“Huh? Why?”

“If... If you love me, Kolya... Let me go.”

“To where? You don't have anyone! You have nowhere! I am your someone now and we'll create our own home, right? No one will hurt you. No one will put ridiculous rules on you! Let's just be free together, love.” Nikolai begged, clasping your hands and you could hear the clacking sound of the gun dropping on the ground.

“No... No, I just... I admit I like what we had... Yes, you did make me forget my burden for a moment. Your touch was... perfect. Just too perfect. But, Nikolai... Nikolai, are you the right person for me to turn to? Am I the right person for you to indulge in..?”

Are you not just insane?

“Yes! Yes, we are right for each other! I know it! I can sense it..! Days after days we spent with each other just confirmed enough to me that you're the one I'm flying with.” Nikolai replied as he studied your eyes. He then sighed, loudly.

“My darlings are always hesitant, aren't they? But, that's fine because they are good afterwards. You are hesitant now but I'm sure you'll be just good after this.”

“What are you—”

Nikolai suddenly hugged you tightly and you felt a sharp pain right on your nape. You yelped and tried to scream for help but your face was buried deep in his toned chest, causing your voice to just sound like muffling noises.

Your head was getting dizzy, your heart was getting more scared and panicked. You clawed onto Nikolai's clothes, hoping for his humanity to sprout even for a second but he just held you tightly until you felt your limbs go limp.

Your world gradually wallowed in black and the only voice you could hear was the repetitive oath of his love.

I love you so much, dearest. I love you.

An unexplainable amount of time had passed.

You were in a nice apartment unit. Very expensive. If you tell yourself a few years ago that you would live in such luxury, you would be called a fraud. But here you were, covered nicely in a blanket with a cup of instant coffee on the table. Your eyes were fixed on the television, broadcasting news of a gruesome murder.

“The victim was found with multiple wounds and bruises on his face and body, suspected that it was caused by physical attacks. His hands and feet were cut off and were found in a tank of dried cement several metres away.”

“From reports and quick investigations, the victim was a male attendant worked in the Asylum of...”

You looked at the detail of the victim that was shown on the screen. His name, his age, his job — everything was compiled in your brain and was processed to one single person. Your fiancé.

He was murdered.

But you could not bring yourself to sympathise with it.

“My pretty birdie, good afternoon...”

You sat up from the couch and turned to Nikolai who just left the bedroom, shirtless and just with a pair of black shorts. His hair was messy as he just got up from his nap. He made his way to you and put his arms around your neck from behind.

“Good evening, Kolya. You slept well, hm?” you asked as you caressed his cheek and gave a soft kiss to him. He smiled before he returned one to you too.

“You're so cute.” he chuckled before his eyes flashed to the television. A familiar murder was shown and he let out a small laugh. He clasped your hand, lightly stroking your bandaged ring finger.

“So you've seen the news? Happy anniversary, love. May your nightmare is no more.”

You stared at him, studying his expression. Nikolai was still giving you the very same sweet smile, and hazy eyes, no matter how much time had passed. He was just always full of desire, always appreciating and alluring — pulling you further deeper into an inescapable tangle.

You smiled, raising yourself to give him a hug and he gladly embraced you back. His lips always took the chance to kiss you whenever and wherever he could. And you were fine with it — his touches were just like an intoxicating drug. Soothing enough for you to keep running to him.

My nightmare is no more, you thought.

©moonchery 2022 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated

I love this stupid guy

When they accidentally kabe-don you feat: Epel, Jamil, Jack, Deuce genre: fluff, budding romance notes: reader is written as Yuu, not gender specific, no pronouns used,

when he’s hiding from Vil

Epel just needs a break now and again. The skincare routine, intonation and vocabulary training, posture correction, calories check…everything is little too much for today. 

He honestly just wanted a rest in the courtyard before Vil figured out he’s skipping out on his lessons. Which is how you found the lavender-haired freshman laying behind the bushes. 

“So, how long are you planning on hiding?” You asked him with a cheeky grin Epel doesn’t appreciate

“When I’m good and ready” or caught. Epel whispered those last words under his breath as he guessed that Vil had already noticed his absence and was looking for him or had ordered Rook to bring him back. 

“Monsieur Cherry Apple~” Speak of the devil

Epel cursed as he heard the hunter’s call and in hurried desperation, pulled you down with him as he rolled into the bushes. He didn’t realized how he pinned you down as he peered out through the gaps of the leaves trying to see if Pomefiore’s vice housewarden was out of sight. 

He only realized his position when he heard a shaky tone whisper his name. 

He looked down to see you looking at him, surprised and flustered. He felt a rush of adrenaline as he assessed his situation. His arms and legs caged you underneath him, and the low height of the bushes forced him on his elbows and knees to avoid peaking out from the foliage, so your bodies were so close that he swore he could feel your heartbeat (which he noticed were quite fast) on his own. 

He’s been trying for so long to make the first move on you but now that he had you so close to him, he’s blanking on his next move. He’s wondering what would Leona do in this situation? Heck, what would Vil do? 

Epel was so nervous that he didn’t notice your own mental battle as you decided what you should do. You were fidgeting with your hands whether you should push Epel away or if you should pull him by his cute little bowtie. Finally you decided to shoot your shot, reaching out to touch the lapels of Epel’s school jacket, gently pulling the flustered freshman towards you. 

Taking the hint, Epel started to lower himself as he watched your expression for any last minute second thoughts or discomfort. You showed none. 

Too bad that’s as far as he got as reality smacked him in the face with a burst of light shining through a sudden gap of the leaves being pushed away. 

“Beaute! A beautiful embrace between two young lovers, intertwined like vines of the foliage that hides their rendezvous from the eyes of their peers.” 

Rook’s sudden intrusion forced the two of you back to your senses as you and Epel scrambled out from each other’s arms, looking away in embarrassment. 

Perhaps because Rook senses the awkwardness, Rook reached for Epel and pulled him to walk with him towards the Mirror Chambers to head back to the Pomefiore dorm. 

“I sincerely apologize, young freshman. But, our esteemed Housewarden is awaiting our presence as to begin your daily lessons” 

Epel didn’t grumble or sigh under his breath at that like he usually would. Instead, his thoughts were swirling around the last few minutes with you. He’s stunned and honestly a little giddy over the positive step in his relationship. You reached for him, right? That means you, his crush, want something more with him, right? 

Epel braved a glimpse behind him and noticed you fanning yourself to cool your warm face. He felt his ego swelled at the notion that he made you that way. 

He promised to himself that he’ll be the one to make the first move next time. 

when he saved you during Basketball Club 

Basketball was one of the few aspects of Jami's life that doesn’t revolve around Kalim or his duties as the servant of the Asim family so he assumed that he could have some time away from his responsibilities. Too bad that’s not the case when Floyd, the wishy-washy eel merman and Ace, the scheming slacker are his clubmates. Whenever one or both of them are here, there’s always a possibility of something that is bound to give Jamil a headache. 

Today was a little different however, when Ace decided to invite you to watch the club activities. Regardless how quiet or chaotic you are, Jamil would much rather deal with you than the worrisome Floyd and no, it is not because he finds you charming or attractive in any way. He swears it’s not that…not at all. 

You sat on the side benches, watching and sometimes giving encouraging hollers to your friends, including him which certainly boosts the morale of the club members. Almost unfortunately so as Floyd started getting too into his slam dunks. In his manic glee, the eel merman wanted to see if he could slam the ring hard enough to break it. 

Despite everyone’s pleas not to do so, Floyd went for it and slammed the basketball hard, succeeding in bringing the ring down along with the ball. The rest of the team ran from the hoop as the ball that was still stuck in the net of the hoop bounced towards you, bringing the ring with it. 

With quick reflexes, Jamil dove towards you to push you away from the ball’s path. The Scarabia student covered you as the both of you got on the ground, the basketball safely bouncing away from the two of you. 

Recovering from the fall, Jamil raised his head to survey the damage. It looks like the ball lost its momentum and is now rolling to a stop somewhere far from him. He sighed a breath of exhausted relief and looked down to ask if you’re alright. 

Still a bit shaky, you answered back with affirmation as you loosen the tight grip you just realized you had on Jamil as you must have wrapped your arms around his neck when he reached for you. To be fair, Jamil also just realized he had placed one of his hands behind your head, worried you might hurt yourself when diving to the floor. 

The both of you didn’t say anything else, lost in each other’s presence as you both wondered what’s the best course of action. Jamil is a tactful man but even he can be confused as to what to do. He searched you for a clue as to what you’re thinking. Were you uncomfortable? Scared? Maybe happy? 

“Floyd, this is why we said stop. Now how are we gonna play?” Ace complained to the tall Octavinelle student who responded with a frown

“I wanna see if I can, so I did it. You got a problem with that, Crabby?” Floyd said, showing off a glimpse of his sharp teeth in intimidation “We can talk it over if ya want. Come over here” 

“Nope. No thanks!” Typical Ace, running away after running his mouth but Floyd is unfortunately a chaser. 

Jamil sighed, getting to his feet then helping you onto yours. He weighed in the pros and cons of intervening before deciding to do so, in fear Floyd may break more things if left alone. Before he did, he took a quick glance at you and his keen eyes caught something rather pleasant. 

You were biting your lip.  

when he accidentally bumped into you 

Jack Howl is an honest student. He does his best in school and he makes an effort to not miss a class if he can help it. Except one day, that may not be the case. 

Jack was assisting his senior Ruggie in convincing Leona to attend one of his classes. He already missed too many classes that week and Professor Crewel was scarily serious that the lion beastman attend his class as his grades depend on this particular attendance. Worried, Jack had offered to literally carry Leona to his class which offended Savanaclaw’s Housewarden enough to walk on his own, angrily declaring that no one is going to carry him like some sack of potatoes. 

But now, Jack was almost late to his own class which explained his long steps and quick walking as running in the halls was prohibited. In his haste, he didn’t consider looking ahead as he rounded a corner which ultimately caused his collision with another student. 

Jack was young but he was still a bulky beastman. A collision with him would mostly end badly for the other party which is why with Jack’s build and strength, pushed the other student backwards onto the floor with Jack following suit. Thankfully, Jack managed to catch himself before he reached the floor, softening his landing and using his arms to avoid crushing anyone. 

“Ah, sorry-“ Jack started to apologize before he looked and realized it was you. You were also in a hurry to your class and the last thing you expected was to bump into what you initially thought to be a firm but surprisingly soft wall. 

“I’m sorry, Jack!” You apologized as well with a look of worry. “I should have looked where I was going. Are you ok?” 

But Jack didn’t respond. He was slowly working his feelings whenever he’s near you. He noticed that his tail starts to wag excitedly around you which he curses his obvious joy he feels in your presence. Thankfully you haven’t realized or you weren’t aware what his tail wagging means. 

That may change though as you spoke once more, “Umm Jack. Your tail is tickling me” 

Jack’s ears perked up and he looked behind him and to his horror, he watched his tail whip about, occasionally brushing against your legs that were under Jack’s. The soft fur was tickling your legs which made you reflexively move away but being under Jack meant you accidentally bump into the beastman’s thighs, which definitely made him flinch. 

Mortified, Jack scrambled hastily off you but still offered to pull you up which you accepted. After a quick look to see you’re ok, the white-haired student gave a quick nod before running towards the direction of his class, school rules be damned. 

You were left in the dust but you didn’t try to stop Jack. Especially since you needed to head to your class as well. With that, you turned to walk towards your destination but with a shy but satisfied smile on your lips. Turns out what Ace and Deuce told you about Jack’s tail was true after all. 

when blocking others from you 

It was not a secret that the school cafeteria was filled with delicious meals and treats for the students in NRC. Considering the rich, the powerful, and actual members of royalty were attending here, the school can’t afford to serve anything else but the best and finest lest they want to hear complaints. 

Still, that doesn’t mean there’s enough to go around. The cafeteria works on a first-come, first-serve basis where you gotta be there quick if you want what you want for lunch, especially when there’s something particularly rare on the menu. 

Which is why one day there was a scrambling line of hungry and greedy students who were on the brink of starting a fist fight for a special limited edition sandwich made by the finest and rarest of ingredients. Grim and Ace in particular were hankering for a taste of the supposedly grand sandwich so you, Grim, Ace, and Deuce were quick to get in line for the chance of such a treat. 

The crowd was getting restless. Students were pushing and yelling, agitated over so-called line cutters or people pushing each other to accelerate the pace. You could handle yourself well enough but a push too far from these relentless students could send anyone to the wall at this point. 

And luck would have it, a student was aggressively pushed back which in turn pushed you out from the line and back against a wall near the food line. You groaned over the slight pain coursing your back before seeing the back of another student coming your way. 

Before you could brace yourself, a strong arm came between you and the incoming student, effectively blocking the impact from you. You looked to see Deuce’s body protectively covering you as he placed his other hand against the wall near your head, glaring at the student who came flying towards you. 

“Watch it, buddy” Deuce said, his delinquent side peeking out as he gave the student a nasty warning stare. The student walked away, grumbling how it wasn’t like he wanted to get flung around like that and returned back to the line. 

Ignoring him, Deuce turned to look back at you with worry. “Are you ok?” His voice was nothing like the gruff tone mere seconds ago but instead a sweet voice of concern which had you more flustered than before. Not trusting your voice, you nodded your head. 

But Deuce wasn’t too convinced, he was worried that the slam might cause a bruise on where you landed. He cautiously moved his hand to the side of your head, gently touching you as he tried to feel for something, perhaps a bump or some blood. “You gotta tell me if you’re hurt, ok? A hit like that can do some serious damage” 

As sweet as Deuce was, you couldn’t pay attention to his words right now. Not when he’s caressing your head so softly like that, as though you’re a fragile baby chick in his hands. He was so oblivious to his effects on you that you curse him for his obliviousness but at the same time, you’re relieved he can’t tell how nervous he’s making you. 

“Yo Henchhuman, Deuce!” Grim’s voice called you and Deuce out from your own little world as the cat-like creature ran to you. “We got the yummy sandwich! Let’s hurry and find a seat” 

“What happened to you guys?” Ace questioned with a suspicious quirk of his brow, as he noticed the closeness of you two. 

“Some jerk pushed Prefect into the wall, and then nearly crushed the two of us,” Deuce angrily explained. “Looks like we’re good, though” 

“Well then, if nothing’s wrong then let’s find a spot to eat. I’m starving!” Grim already started walking with Deuce already following to make sure he doesn’t crash into somebody with his small body. You and Ace followed soon behind but yours and his attention were somewhere else. Ace watched you with mischievous curiosity, dying to interrogate you on the details Deuce left out in his story, and you looked anywhere but the red-haired freshman as you already knew what he’s thinking about.

Queen and King

SYNOPSIS. Inspired by Alice in Wonderland's Queen and King scene before and after the trial

CHARACTERS. Riddle Rosehearts

TAGS. Fluff, king can be referred to any gender, established relationship

WORD COUNT. 444

It was rumored that the best way to get rid of the Queen's collar was to have a trial with the King. They can persuade the Queen to listen to their wishes as he was weak to their charms of pleads. But it's not always successful, most of the time, the King will still listen to their Queen.

.

.

.

"You there!"

A student from Heartslabyul was startled by a shout. To which belongs to the Heartslabyul's Housewarden, Riddle Rosehearts. "You're breaking rule #251, a rule that states a student shouldn't wear those specific accessories on a Tuesday morning" Riddle pointed at the student's accessory.

As he was about to cast his signature spell, you popped out behind his back and tugged his sleeve to catch his attention. Where did you even came from? A thought from the soon to be punished student

"But my Queen— couldn't he at least have a trial? To show his innocence?"

"Trial?" He raised an eyebrow, although not condemning to his beloved King's suggestion. "Well,, uh— Just a little trial?" you pinched your forefinger and thumb together as if to gesture something small. You gave him most cutest face you can muster to get him to weaken his poise and accept your proposal.

The student was nodding his head fast, agreeing while putting his hands together like a prayer to also convince the Housewarden,

"Very well then—" Riddle then patted your head, "I'll indulge you and your little scheme." you clapped your hands happily, joyous when he agreed.

You pulled out a gavel as you recite the student's fault, "You have been charged guilty for breaking rule #251—" the student was about to cut you off but you continued your words, "—Since you're a first year I would've let it slide..." The student's eye lit up, thinking he'll get off scoff free. But you enjoy a little joke to mess with your junior, "But you're in Heartslabyul, you are not exempted from any kind of rules" before he can comment, you pointed your gavel at him to keep him shut "Case closed! You have been found guilty" you signaled Riddle to do his part,

"Off with your head!" Riddle cast his unique magic as the familiar heavy collar appeared on the student's neck, their magic was now restricted unless the collar is removed.

The rumors was always a lie. The King would never dare to disobey their Queen—in their eyes, He will always be right. Even if they do disobey him he'll always disregard it, even excusing their actions. He's always lenient to his King, favoring them more than anyone else.

Afterall, what's a Queen without its King?

Cell Block Tango [BSD]

YN is sick of listening to Dazai’s and Fyodor’s prison mind games. Locked away underground, she yearns for a distraction and decides that it’s time for a special game of her own. But can she keep control while playing against not one but two demons…

Rating: 18+, NSFW

3.5K words

a/n: Spoiler alert for anime fans but if you are up to date with manga translations then it’s nothing new. For the sake of this fic we are gonna pretend that the prison suits are two pieces rather than the jumpsuit. We are also sticking to the manga version of the prison, not the hamster balls :p

Afficher davantage

How to Survive your Haunted House

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs Characters: Chuuya, GN!Reader, Elise Summary: “You look like an Emma,” you told her after several minutes of staring at each other. This did not please her. Her expression shifted from bored curiosity to ferocious rage. She stomped and ran at you, passing through your body with no more than a cool wind. When you turned around, she was gone. Should you be more concerned about living in a haunted house? Probably. But it’s your house, ghost or no, and nothing’s going to scare you off. Not even when she’s nothing more than a shadow watching you attempt sleep.

10.7k // AO3 // Masterlist

A/N: This is part of @thecoffeelovingfreak’s halloween collab, Season of the Witch!! I was so excited for this collab, I wrote….. a whole lot. This is the longest one-shot I’ve ever written, coming in at a whopping 10k words!!@_@ Anyway, I hope you enjoy!!

The weight is unusual.

The noise you’re already used to; your keychain is always jingling against whatever else you’ve shoved in your pocket.

But this weight? This is new.

A thrill runs up your spine as your fingers brush the metal, warmed by your body heat. You pull your pocket open to peek inside. You know you have the biggest, goofiest grin spread across your face, but you just can’t help it. You can’t stop. You refuse to stop.

Even when your boss smacks the back of your head as he walks by. Even when your feet ache as you make your way to your car. Even when you find your mailbox half-buried in the roadside weeds for the fourth time this week.

You right your mailbox with a smile and a zip tie. Lets see those kids knock it off this time!

And then you open the gate to your new house.

It’s small and old and, if you’re being honest, kind of ugly. A drab gray in color, except for the lilac window shutters. Situated on a not-quite acre of patchy grass that’s only green-ish, bordered by a tall brick fence that’s only red-ish. It’s a cliché Halloween house, and you’re proud to call it home.

Or maybe that’s just the rush of euphoria brought on by the first taste of freedom since getting your driver’s license.

The rickety steps creak under your weight, and the crooked banister sticks another bunch of splinters in your palm — six in all, one for every day since you moved in. 

The key seems to burn when you remove it from your pocket.

The front door takes some jimmying (and a couple kicks) to open fully; the wood must be swollen, you decide, from the morning rain. You walk through the front hall, ignoring both the open doorways to other rooms and the little girl that stands between them, and straight up the staircase to the master suite. There, you shirk your work clothes and take the nicest, longest bubble bath in the enormous tub.

It’s the perfect start to your three-day weekend.

And then your stomach flips into your chest, and you realize you haven’t eaten in hours.

The little girl is at the bottom of the stairs when you reach the top. She glares up at you with the most adorable pout, and you can’t help but smile and wave back to her. It makes her stomp her foot and turn, mouth open to call for… well, you’re not really sure. A parent? A friend? A dog of some kind?

She begins to fade, starting from the tips of her Mary Janes and traveling up her poofy red dress. “See you later, Emma!” you call down to her. You glimpse another sharp glare just before she disappears completely.

Your stomach gives a low rumble, reminding you of why you were on the stairs in the first place.

You’d heard rumors about the ghosts before you moved in. About the house besieged with death. A bloody history filled with everything from murders to suicides to just plain tragedies. Everyone in town had a story. Some personal experiences, other general anecdotes.

The most prominent being the tale of the doctor and his daughter.

Their names have been lost to a game of historical telephone(something with an ‘R’, no, a ‘K’; wait, that was the other one–), but the story persists: one summer day, the doctor left town. He came back a week later with a child in his arms. No one was sure who the mother was — the doctor never told. But he claimed the child as his. All was well, until the doctor lost his hospital and was on the verge of losing his home. So he did the only logical thing he could think of — emphasis on ‘he’.

He killed his daughter and then himself. Their blood stained the walls in a morbid painting.

You don’t know if the story is true; all the newspapers were lost when a fire tore through the old library records around twenty years after the incident. The only thing that survived was a small photograph with a charred bottom corner. It’s hung on the wall of the current library, black and white and grainy, as part of a mural of the town’s history.

While the photo was nearly indecipherable when you first saw it, you can tell now that the girl in it and the girl in your house are the same. They have the same wide-set eyes, the same light and curly hair; they’re even wearing similar dresses — though the one in the photo is a deeper color, not the same dull maroon as the one in the house.

There were no names attached to the photo, so you had no idea what to call her when she just showed up three days after you moved in. “You look like an Emma,” you told her after several minutes of staring at each other. This did not please her. Her expression shifted from bored curiosity to ferocious rage. She stomped and ran at you, passing through your body with no more than a cool wind. When you turned around, she was gone.

Should you be more concerned about living in a haunted house? Probably. But it’s your house, ghost or no, and nothing’s going to scare you off.

Not even when she’s nothing more than a shadow watching you attempt sleep.

You peek open an eye and scan the room.

You don’t see her, at first. She’s crouched in the corner, hidden behind the closet door that just won’t stay closed. You’d probably have to nail it to keep it shut, but what would be the use of a closet you can’t open at all?

She’s not all there, right now, not even a recognizable silhouette. Just a wisp of herself, dark and vague. She doesn’t respond so much when she’s like this. You don’t know if that’s an energy thing or a personality thing. A princess that doesn’t deign to speak with a commoner. She was rather spoiled by her father, after all, before he slit her throat.

“I see you,” you say. She must have liked Hide-and-go-Seek. That closet was probably her favorite hiding spot; she’s behind it a lot.

You feel a gaze crawl across your bed to land on your face. You give her a smile, and she decides to stand–

That’s not Emma.

That is not Emma.

Or maybe it’s just the dark. Maybe it only looks three heads taller than her. Maybe she can fly. Ghosts can fly, right?

The thing in the corner jerks forward.

It doesn’t move like a human.

The closet door slams shut.

You scramble to the opposite side of the bed and fall to the floor. That thing — person? It’s person-shaped. A lithe torso. Two… arms? Maybe? And a head that’s twisted just a touch too far to one side. A person-shaped blob of smoke.

Ha. Ha. That’s funny. That’s funny, right?

You press your back against the wall.

It creeps over your covers.

One smokey tendril reaches out. It brushes the hair above your ear–

And then it’s gone. The room warms without the presence of the whatever-that-thing-was-you’re-getting-some-sage-tomorrow. Except maybe it’s not gone? There’s something heavy in your chest — ah, wait, that’s just your heart, half-exploded.

Okay. So. There are two ghosts in your house.

Emma, who you’ve only ever seen on the first floor, now that you think about it.

And whatever that thing was. It’s not the first time you’ve seen it. You thought it was her. Emma. The doctor’s daughter. It showed up the same night you first saw her.

Why did it decide to move tonight? It usually stays crouched in that corner. What does it do? It watches you, you know, but why?

Is it the doctor? Someone else? Something else?

Your heart slows to its natural beat, but your limbs are still filled with jelly. You reach a hand out on the bed and find it cold where the thing was kneeling on it.

The door slams again, and you jump a foot into the air.

Fuck this. You snatch your pillow and blanket (both still cold) and run downstairs for the living room couch.

  Your three-day weekend is spent cleaning up — both physically and spiritually. You light some sage to smolder while you clear out the cobwebs you missed in your first few passes of the house. You dust and sweep and vacuum and mop. You have a housewarming party planned for later that you need a spotless house for. Then you watch Ghost Hunters: International while you wait on a load of clothes to finish washing.

  It looks a lot more dramatic than the ghosts you have, but it’s on one of the few channels you get right now and it’s kind of pertinent to your situation. One of the investigators points out a white spot zooming across the frame in one of the cameras and calls it an orb. A different investigator plays back some warbly audio and claims it saying ‘murderer’ over and over. Yet another investigator takes off his vest and shirt to reveal three scratches running the length of his back.

The washing machine beeps. You turn off the tv and go collect your laundry.

Sure, the show had similar experiences — they used thermal cameras to catch shifts in temperature, and they saw an apparition of an old man in the window before they entered the house. But it just wasn’t convincing.

Your ghosts are different. The show claimed they were just leftover memories from when someone was alive. That they can’t interact with living people.

Which simply isn’t true. Emma never spoke to you, but she responded. And then that thing last night touched your hair. You felt that.

So the show is all a bunch of hullabaloo.

The day outside is clear and crisp. A gentle breeze rolls down the hill to you and your laundry. You hum as you walk out to the clothesline, glad that the sun is shining so bright. Your clothes will be dry in no time!

You hang them up and sigh as you take in the view. If the front of the house looks bad, the back looks worse. One of the boarded-up windows is empty of glass — you’ve got someone coming to take a look at that next month — and there are scraps of paint peeling away from the gray wood beneath. The grass is even less green. Two garden beds house dead or dying rose bushes. There’s a shadow in the–

Your blood runs cold. There’s a shadow in your bedroom, looking out the window. Looking at you. It disappears when it catches you staring back.

Isn’t sage supposed to get rid of ghosts? You haven’t seen Emma since you lit it. Maybe because it’s not in the same room? You haven’t been upstairs yet. That must be it! You just need to smudge it separately!

You start towards the back door–

Didn’t you shut it?

You stop a good six feet from the porch. The back door hangs open. Its hinges give the quietest of squeaks as it drifts gently back and forth as you watch.

Just the wind, surely. There’s nothing actively moving the door. And it makes sense that it’s open. You had your hands full when you left. You just couldn’t close it. Yeah. That’s what happened.

Crash!

You land on your ass. A roof tile lays shattered between your legs. It would have landed right on your head had you not fallen back.

A chill runs down your spine. You tear your gaze away from the tile to meet the eyes of the spectre in your window. Pure fear pierces your heart.

You run inside to grab the bowl of burning sage and race up the stairs. You kick the door open and thrust the bowl out in front of you as you enter.

No one is there. The spectre is gone.

Your legs shake as you step into the hall. A flash of blonde catches your eye as you start down the stairs — so Emma isn’t gone, either. You glare at the sage in your hand before tossing it in the trash.

Screw the cleaning. Your clothes are out drying, but you don’t need to be home for that. And everyone has off days; your friends aren’t judgemental and the house is presentable enough.

You leave the danger of your home for the library. The earlier records may have been destroyed, but the house has been standing for a hundred years since. There has to be something out there.

But how to search for such a thing?

You go to the computers first and type in the house’s address. It pulls up twenty years of realtor advertisements. It’s changed hands at least seven times in that period; it ends with the tragic death of a Eugene Davis, hit by a car as he exited for school one morning. The driver was never found, and the family moved out the summer after. It’s been empty since — until you bought it one year later.

Further back you find more.

Dozens of names on the victim list, at least one every two years, but often more. In no particular order: Kouyou Ozaki was shot by an ex-lover. Chuuya Nakahara was found on top of the fence, speared through the chest by the iron spikes. Michizou Tachihara was beheaded by a corrugated metal sheet during a remodel. Ryuunosuke Akutagawa was killed during a home invasion, but not before taking out the three men attempting to assault his sister.

The longest the house has gone without incident is thirty-two years — while Gin Akutagawa, Ryuunosuke’s little sister, lived there. But whatever miracle protected her ran out, because she disappeared one day and is currently presumed dead.

It’s a chilling list. Not just how long it is, but how gruesome as well. You touch your chest where the spike had gone through Chuuya, then rub your neck where it had been separated from Michizou’s head. 

Gruesome.

Had they felt any pain?

There’s no way to know, unless…

Maybe the thing in your room is one of them. The people that died on the property. But there’s so many. Is there a cause for it? And why wasn’t it mentioned when you bought the damn house? You pull up the advertisements that led you to it in the first place, but they’re all devoid of any type of warning.

“You don’t want that one.” A deep voice pulls you from your thoughts. A man stands at your shoulder, staring into the computer screen. “It’s cursed.”

“Oh, really?” you say. Your sarcasm is either lost on the man, or ignored by him. His lips tighten into a thin line.

“Really. But I have a feeling it’s too late to warn you away.” Ignored, then. He takes a card from his notebook and sets it on the desk in front of you. “If you need any help,” he says by way of explaination.

And then he’s gone, stalked off on his lanky legs to some annoying-looking brunet hiding in the shelves. You examine the card he left behind.

Doppo Kunikida, it reads, Lead Investigator, the Astral Devoiding Agency. Ghost hunters, if you had to guess.

Well. Now you know the house is really dangerous.

That thought in mind, you decide to do a little shopping once you leave the library.

When you return home, your mailbox is gone. You sigh at the empty post and dig around in the weeds, but you can’t find it anywhere. The zip tie you do find, snapped just below the head underneath some… poison ivy, you think.

It can just stay there for now.

The shadows stretch in the evening sun, spreading the spiked tips of the fence across your legs. You frown up at them and wonder where, exactly, Chuuya died. It’s been… fifty years, almost. Though any evidence is long gone, you can’t help but wonder. There are rust-colored splotches all around the top.

Emma is waiting for you when you walk in. She seems to be in a good mood; she smiles and waves at you. You smile back. “What’s up?”

Her mouth moves, but no sound comes out. By the time she stops speaking, she looks excited for something. Footsteps sound above your head.

Emma hops in place.

You stare up at the ceiling. Then you pull your newly-bought pocket knife from its bag.

The footsteps keep moving. You hear them wander down the hall and into your bedroom.

There’s a great clatter, then silence. Emma points up the stairs and places a ghostly hand on your back. Goosebumps rise around it.

You make your way up the stairs, holding the blade of the knife in front of you. Your bedroom door stands open into the hall, and across from it….

Your mailbox. You stop to stare at it. The knife shakes in your hand.

“You should really lock your doors.”

You turn your knife to the man in your doorway. The only thing you see is a flash of teeth that disappear as soon as you look at it.

Later that evening, as you’re changing for the housewarming party, you notice a bruise on your chest. A dark blotch just below your collar, with five thin, spotty growths spreading from it.

It’s a bruise shaped like a damn hand.

The couch isn’t comfy. You don’t want it anymore. It’s old and lumpy and has quite a few questionable stains. (Is that one juice or wine? Or could it be blood? That one is hopefully spaghetti sauce. And, um, that one looks like…. Gross.)

 It came with the house, like most of the furniture, and it just needs to be thrown away. You can’t exactly afford a new one, though, so you’re stuck with this one. You just can’t sleep on it.

And that is how you found yourself back in your bed. In your room. With the mysterious shadow-ghost-man.

You hate it. But you have to work tomorrow, so you suck it up like an adult(have you ever mentioned how much you hate being a real adult?) and snuggle deep under your comforter. Hopefully it, or he, or them — how many people died in this house, again? —won’t be able to get you. 

Whatever. It’s a well-known fact that monsters can’t get you when you’re tucked up under your covers. 

They can, however, make themselves known.

A weight settles in behind you. An arm wraps around your waist.

“I know you’re in there, Sweetheart.”

That’s the voice. The same voice that told you to lock your door(which you totally had). You hold your breath and hope he goes away.

He doesn’t. Instead he shifts closer, close enough to chill you beneath the blanket, to whisper in your ear. “Sorry about the other day,” he says. “Just wanted to get it over with.”

Get what over with?

You give yourself approximately two seconds to think it over, then, “What do you mean?”

“I’d get out if I were you.” Is-is that a threat? In your own home? In your own bed?

“This is my house,” you scoff, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Your funeral.”

His tone may be mawkish, but was that a hint of sincerity just below that?

His weight shifts away from you, but doesn’t leave the bed. You lower your blanket a smidge — just enough to peek.

Damn, you’re glad the sun hasn’t set yet, or you’d never be able to see how goddamn gorgeous he is. Burnt orange hair curling up to frame his face. A lithe body reclined on your bed. Toned arms spread across your pillows as he cradles his head in his hands. Long, luxurious lashes that rest against his cheeks.

He is, pun intended, drop-dead gorgeous.

“Take a picture,” he says without opening his eyes, “it’ll last longer.”

“Sure,” you say sarcastically, “let me take a picture of the non-physical entity taking up half my bed.” He says nothing, just smiles. “Would you even show up?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs.

You stare. He opens one storm-gray eye to meet your gaze. “Here.” He reaches over you to pluck your phone from the bedside table and drops it on your half-covered face. “Picture. I’ll even turn to my good side.”

“Would that be the side that’s more or less transparent?” You roll your eyes, but take the phone anyway.

Sure enough, he’s just a smudge of darkness in the photo. If he weren’t still lying there in front of you, you’d just think the lens was dirty. You show him with a triumphant smile. “See? You don’t show up!”

“Guess you have no choice but to stare, eh?” He gives you a wicked grin that sends your heart flying.

And then you realize you’re talking to a ghost and roll over under the covers again. “I have work in the morning,” you tell him, “so be quiet.”

You don’t expect to sleep, but you also don’t hear a peep from him for the entire night. He’s gone when you wake up, but the memory of his smile remains through the day.

The man shows himself here and there, mostly to tease you. A gentle push into a counter that knocks you off balance. Appearing in a corner of the room you’re in. Even crawling into your bed at night for what you can only assume is cuddling. He hasn’t spoken since that first night, but he’s got plenty of personality.

Just another ghost, you guess. Emma and… Hopper, you decide. A dapper name for a dapper man. Emma doesn’t seem to like the name you’ve chosen for her, and there’s no telling if Hopper will, but until they tell you their names, they are stuck with the ones you made up.

It takes a month of calling him that for Hopper to show up again.

“Emma! Hopper! I’m back!” you call into your empty house. A chill crawls up your spine as you shut the door, but there’s no one in the entryway. You take a step toward the stairs.

An arm settles around your waist, pausing you in your tracks and pulling you back into his icy chest.

“Who are you calling for?” Hopper asks.

You shiver in his grasp, either from his cold or his proximity. You aren’t entirely sure.

“You,” you tell him, “and that little blonde girl.” You turn to face him but he’s not even visible. Just pressure on your side and whispers in your ear.

“That’s not our names.” The voice comes from farther away, but the hand still settles on your stomach.

“Well it’s not like I have anything else to go by.” You slip into the light jacket you’ve taken to wearing around the house. “You never gave me your names.”

Hopper is leaning against the counter when you enter the kitchen. Emma runs through you and out the door, presumably to haunt the front hall. Hopper points after her. “Elise.” He tilts his hand so his thumb points to himself. “Chuuya. Haven’t you done any research?”

Chuuya. You remember the name. Just not where it’s from.

“I have.” You start to put your groceries away around him. “But do you know how many have died on the property?”

Chuuya taps his fingers together as he thinks. “Six?”

“More like forty-six,” you correct, “and they didn’t show many pictures.” You shoo him out of the way to reach the cabinet below him. “Which one are you, again?”

“Guess,” he says, and his smile is obvious.

“Hmm…” You think as you push pasta onto the shelf. So many deaths, you have to narrow it down somehow. “Illness?”

“No.”

“Mysterious disappearance?”

“Nope. Keep guessing.”

“Can I get a hint?”

“Sure,” he says, and you can tell you won’t like his answer by the snark in his voice. “The hint is: I died.”

You tilt your head up to glare at him, but he’s completely unphased. It looks like he’s trying to stifle a laugh, actually. That cheeky little shit.

You have half a mind to tell him to keep his secrets. You have no obligation to play this little game of his.

But oh, that smug smile of his drives you up the wall.

So you cross your legs and lean back against the counter’s door to study him. His clothes are old-fashioned — gray slacks, pressed into perfect creases. A white button-up covered by a silky suit vest just a shade or two darker than the pants. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and black leather gloves on his hands. Shiny black loafers on his feet, and to top it all off, a fedora resting on his head. All expensive. All designer.

He could have been dressed up for a special occasion. Or, of course, he could simply be an eccentric man dressing in an out-of-date style.

You think you prefer the second option.

It’s still not a very good clue, though. “Murder?” you ask after a bit of self-deliberation.

He clicks his tongue. “Bingo.”

Okay, so. Murdered. How many people were murdered here? You suck on your teeth as you think. “In the house or out?”

“Outside.” His voice is sour. “Still on the property, though. Barely.”

“Does that matter? Whether it was here or not?”

“It does.” Chuuya walks around to lean on the island. “The last kid got lucky. He just missed the threshold.”

Got lucky. The kid still died, but he got lucky. Sure.

“What do you mean by threshold?” you ask after rolling your eyes.

“The house. Anyone who dies on the property is trapped here.”

“No way. That can’t be true.”

Chuuya shrugs. “It is. This land is a spiritual hotspot. The house is the strongest point. They can travel a few feet outside, but that’s all.”

You stare at him.

“It’s true,” is all he says.

“They’re trapped in the house?” Chuuya nods. “But you stole my mailbox. That’s outside the fence.”

He smirks. “Special privilege.” You raise a brow. “Granted by proximity to the border.”

“Okay, so,” you lean back against the cabinet door. “Why isn’t the house overrun with ghosts, then?”

His face doesn’t change much — it barely changes at all, except for a more dangerous tilt to his smile. But that alone is enough to send a sense of dread creeping up your spine.

“We eat them.”

Oh. They eat them.

Eat them.

Eat them?!

Your jaw drops. “‘Eat’ as in…?”

Chuuya’s tongue slides along his upper lip. You think you might throw up.

“What…” What happens to them after? you want to ask. Scared of the answer, you ask instead, “What do they taste like?” and immediately think you should’ve said anything else.

“It depends, really.” He takes no notice of your discomfort, or if he does, he ignores it. “Usually like mud. But there are some that taste immaculate. There’s a certain criteria that makes them beautiful.”

“And what might that be?”

“They’re brave.” He leans forward until he’s floating over the island and in your face. “They don’t seem to mind their undead roommates.” He smiles that shark’s smile and your stomach turns.

You’re listing off realtors in your head when he backs up with a more jovial smile. “Kidding.”

The air leaves your lungs in an audible whoosh and you slump back against the cabinet. You’re not sure what he’s kidding about, but you’re not sure you want to know, either. “I don’t think you count as ‘undead’. Zombies are undead.” You poke a finger through his cheek. "They come with corporeal bodies."

He tilts his head to you. "True. Dead but not gone.”

“Because of the house.”

“Yeah.” He looks away, through the window and into the back yard. He’s lost in something, some memory of his lost life or, perhaps, his new one. You give him the time he needs, studying his profile as he loses himself in his thoughts.

He’s a handsome man, you decide. Had you been born in the same time, there might have been something between you and him.

Could there be something between you now?

Ridiculous. You disregard the flutter in your stomach, choosing to believe it anxiety and not hope. It takes a lot of nerve to live with undead roommates, as Chuuya put it, and surely that nerve can falter every now and then.

He turns his gaze back to you and grins. The flutter kicks up a notch. “So you know I was murdered. What does that mean?”

You frown. “Jack shit. A murder doesn’t really narrow it down much.” The only murders you really remember are…

You eye Chuuya from your position on the floor. “You weren’t one of those guys that broke in to rape that girl, were you?”

“Hell no!” he growls, nose wrinkling with a scowl. Insult flickers across his gaze. “The fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Sorry!” You throw your hands up. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Trust me, I would’ve done them in if I had the chance. But Akutagawa got to them first. Sometimes I swear he’s not even human.”

“He’s technically not anymore, is he?”

“Guess not.” Chuuya wrinkles a bag on the counter. “He didn’t hesitate to deal with them on this side, either.”

Deal with them?

You hesitate before asking, “You mean he… ate them?”

Chuuya shakes his head. “He ripped them to shreds. There was nothing left afterwards.”

So ghosts can die, or something similar. You stand and finish putting away your groceries. “So what’s the criteria?” Chuuya grunts and raises a brow. “What determines whether someone gets eaten or not?”

“How strong they are, usually. As long as we can fight the others off, we’re safe.”

So the stronger ghosts eat the weaker ghosts. That makes an unfortunate amount of sense. It’s just the same bs that goes one in the world of the living on a more metaphysical(and literal) level. You think of your mortgage and bills and how easy it would be for you to lose everything you’ve worked so hard for.

You start a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

“What about Elise?” you ask as the thought occurs. “She’s a child. Don’t tell me she was able to fight off the strongest person here.”

“She doesn’t have to.” Chuuya stands at the microwave, transfixed by the rotating plate. “Her dad’s the most powerful spirit. He protects her.”

“Her dad? The one that killed her?”

“Oh, so you know their story but not mine?” he jokes.

“Come on, Chuuya.” His smile grows at the use of his name. “It’s been a famous story ever since it happened. I bet even you knew it before you died.”

“Yeah, and?”

You give him the flattest look you can, and he busts out laughing. “Y’know, I think I like you. Don’t leave anytime soon.”

With company like him around? “I certainly don’t plan on it.”

You smile wide and ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach.

Elise waits for you, every time you leave. She bounces around on your return, darts in and out of doors, appears and disappears randomly. She’s happy to play now that you know her name, and you’re happy to entertain her.

Chuuya, on the other hand, often waits for you to settle before he shows himself. He loves to drape himself across you, to make himself comfortable in your presence.

You ask him, one day, as you’re laying on the couch with his head on your chest, why he’s so touchy with you. He closes his eyes when you ask, humming in deep thought. 

“You’re warm,” he finally says, and you must have a look, because he cracks a face-splitting grin.

“What?” he asks, “Think I can’t feel it because I’m dead?”

“Kind of,” you say, “I didn’t think you felt things at all.”

He opens his eyes and squishes a finger to your cheek. "Feel me touching you?" You nod. “Well, I can feel you, too. Hard to touch something and not feel it.”

“That’s a fair point,” you admit, “but I do have one question.” He tilts his head, and you poke your fingers into his cheek. They sink through his face, his skin turning more translucent so you can see them beneath it.

He waits a full minute before saying, “That’s not a question.”

“I think it’s a valid argument.”

He considers for a moment. “You don’t feel anything? At all?”

You wiggle your fingers, then pull them out of his face. “Just a little chill.”

And oh, the smug look he gives you–

“Okay, smartass,” you huff, “you’re actually touching me, though. Your hand doesn’t just pass right through me.”

“Well yeah,” he says, and you get this vague feeling that he’s about to say something you won’t quite understand. “I use a lot of energy when I want to touch things.”

Aaaand you were correct. “When you say ‘energy’, what do you mean?”

Chuuya clicks his tongue. “Same way you use energy to walk or talk. Except I feel like I’m running the whole time just to touch you. It would be ten times worse if I made it where you could touch me, too.”

“I wish I could touch you,” you mumble. “Wait,” you sit up, and he slides to the floor, “you have to– like, activate your ability to touch me?”

He hoists himself back onto the couch and turns to face you. “Yeah. It’s not automatic.” He places a hand on your arm, but it travels right through, leaving goosebumps where it hit.

You have to shiver before he pulls away.

You lift one knee onto the couch as you turn to him. “So you expend a lot of energy to touch things. Where do you get it?”

Chuuya shrugs. “It just builds up over time.”

You rest your cheek against the back of the couch. “But it regenerates quickly?” He almost nods, but hesitates.

“For me, it does. I just need a few hours of rest.”

“And for the others?”

“It just depends. Not everyone has the same reserves as me. I saw someone sleep for almost a year after using too much once.”

“Is that how you gather energy again, by sleeping?”

“Sometimes. We can also pull it from things like wind or rain, or even people.”

You furrow your brow at that. “People?”

“I could even take energy from you. It’s kind of da–”

“Show me.”

“What?”

“You say it takes a lot of energy to touch me. Let me repay the favor by giving some to you.”

“You’re reckless.” He shakes his head, but smiles anyway. Then he raises one hand straight up, palm facing you, and nods to it.

You lift your head and stare before setting your palm against his. The leather is soft, but cold where you would expect warmth. You line your fingers up with his, only then realizing that you can feel them. Your eyes widen and you look from your hands to him and back.

“A gift. To thank you for trusting me.”

“Trusting–” you start. Then all the air is sucked from your body. You gasp, trying to breathe, but your lungs are frozen.

Your entire body is frozen.

Ice runs from his hand into yours. It spread through your arm and into your chest. Your breath clouds before you. You can’t–

Why can’t you breathe?!

Chuuya clicks his tongue as he pulls away, and you can finally catch your breath. “I tried to tell you it was dangerous, but I don’t think it would have mattered. You’re dangerous, too.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold back the shivers. Your teeth chatter when you speak. “Why didn’t y-you say it felt like that?”

“It was probably worse, since you were freely offering it to me.” He disappears from in front of you. Asshole. You wait before following him, eager to gather more heat first. A blanket drops over you, covering your head and shoulders. By the time you’ve wrapped it more properly around yourself, he’s sitting on the floor facing the couch. His arms rest on the cushion, creating the tiniest indent, and he casts a shadow you’ve never seen from him before.

He looks more alive than you’ve ever seen him.

“You alright?” he whispers. His fingers twitch like he wants to reach out to you, but you both know that will only worsen the chill.

“Yes,” you stammer out, voice as soft as his, “I’ll be alright.”

It takes him a minute to believe you, but he does, and he smiles. It’s a gentle smile, fun of warmth he can’t possess, and you feel your throat tighten again. There’s a glow to his cheeks, some sort of rosy color, and you’re not sure if that’s because of you or the energy you gave him.

“Hey…” you start once your heart slows, “were you the one in my room? Back when I first moved in?”

“I was the one that threw your mailbox from it.”

You shake your head, then pause at the bout of dizziness that causes. “No,” you say, “before that. Almost a week after I moved in. There was– I don’t know, a shadow man, or something.”

He lifts his head from the couch, smile fading. “‘Shadow man’?”

You describe to him the figure in your room. You hadn’t seen it since Chuuya revealed himself, so you thought it was him.

His souring face says otherwise.

“Let me know if it happens again,” he warns. “I don’t know who it was, but I doubt they had good intentions.”

Your face pales and he frowns. He reaches forward, offering his hand but not touching you. You reach forward, and he wraps his fingers around yours. “I won’t let them hurt you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You’re sure he can feel your pulse race with the fluttering of your heart.

  Chuuya promised to keep the monsters at bay, and he has, for the most part.

Shadows disappear when you turn to look at them. Footsteps creak along the halls when you’re alone. Nightmares haunt your dreams every night. Emma clings to you more, trying to keep you close.

Your house has become more active, that much is obvious.

But whatever Chuuya is doing, it works. None of the other ghosts bother you.

You get comfy, as the days fade from summer into fall into winter. He limits his touches as the weather grows colder(your heating is busted), but still joins you in your bed. He waits until you’re snuggled under the covers to lay beside you, arm slung across your chest. You can tell — by the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes — that he wishes for more. He misses your warmth, but he’s not going to sacrifice your safety for it.

He’s halfway through a sentence, regaling you with tales of his living life, when he disappears mid-word.

“Chuuya?” You turn, but he’s not there. He’s not anywhere, you discover, as you sit up and study the room. You call out for him, increasingly frantic as he doesn’t answer.

The floor is cold on your feet. You ignore it to search for Chuuya.

And then you come to on the rooftop.

You teeter on the edge, a wisp away from falling, chilled completely to the bone. You gasp and fall back, scrambling away from the drop.

Ice wraps around your ankle and yanks you closer.

Your fingers scrape against rain-slick tile.

There is no stopping your fall.

You scream.

And then are pulled up.

Hands beneath your arms move you away from the edge. A leg kicks out against whatever’s holding you. A chill spreads across your back from where it presses into his chest.

“This one’s mine!” Chuuya growls.

It is utterly unhuman.

He pulls you into safety and steps between you and the edge. You can’t see anything there, except in the rapid flash of lightning. A boy, you think, based on the structure of their body. Whispers sound from all around you, and you can’t tell if they’re coming from the figure or from elsewhere.

Chuuya’s shoulders tighten. His snarl loosens into a scowl, and he glances back at you, searching your face.

“What are they saying?” you whisper to him, and his posture relaxes. He glances back and pushes you toward the open window you must have used to get on the roof.

“Tell ya later,” he answers. He helps you through the window. “Stay right here. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

“Safe?” you breathe, but he slams the window shut behind you. He’s not behind it when you look.

…safe? Is the house not–

Well, it’s haunted so–

Cursed? Is that what the ghost hunter called it? Is the house really curs–

Of course it’s fucking cursed. Chuuya told you as much. All the deaths should have told you. The house is fucking haunted.

The house is fucking cursed.

But what happened? The only ghosts to even touch you so far are Elise and Chuuya. Why did someone try to-to kill you? And who were they?

You slide down the wall beside the window. He said to stay here, right? In the attic? Or will the rest of the house be safe as well?

Are you really safe here?

Well. Obviously not.

You take a look around the cramped attic. You’ve hardly touched the place; the entrance is in the ceiling of a second floor closet and the ladder consists of half-rotted wood. All the boxes you saw on your first (and only) venture into it contain mysteries, still.

The trapdoor is open. Light leaks in from below.

You crawl closer to it, aware of every creak the floorboards make beneath your knees. Peeking into the opening reveals nothing, just the empty closet. The door to the hallway is open — it’s where the light is coming from — but you can’t see anything past it.

Until a woman pokes her head in. “I’m pretty sure he told you to stay up there, did he not?” she asks. She smiles, though, like she already knows the answer. “I won’t tell if you come down, though. I’d welcome it.”

Her hand lifts towards you with the grace of a ballerina. She stays in that position, an image of perfect beauty; golden hair framing her face, brown eyes wide and innocent. Not quite demure, but something like it.

“Um,” you squeak, “no thanks.” You back up and slam the door shut, plunging yourself into darkness.

Which isn’t any better than the woman, you think. You lift the door a crack and peek into the closet.

Nothing. The corridor is empty.

Who was she? What did she want? The way she looked… she had that same dangerous glint in her eye that Chuuya often wears when discussing the afterlife. What would have happened if you’d taken her hand? Nothing good, you imagine.

Something crashes inside the house.

A weapon. What you need is a weapon.

You search the boxes for something that could work as one. Not that any would, considering what you know of ghosts. But it’s to settle your mind more than anything.

In the third box, you find a pair of soft leather gloves. Petite, sized somewhere between adult and child. You place one in your palm, stretched out, matching your fingers to the ones of the glove, the same way you and Chuuya sometimes hold hands. They have to belong to him.

Where is he?

You hold the gloves to your chest, over your heart.

Is he hurt? Can he get hurt?

He could get eaten.

Oh, god, he could get eaten–

No. No, he has not been eaten yet. You’ve never discussed where he falls in terms of strength, but he’s survived fifty goddamn years in this house, he won’t be overcome so easily.

Another crash comes from below.

You have to get down there.

You cradle his gloves against your chest and make your way to the opening. The first step creaks under your weight, but it holds. It holds.

As does the next step, and the next. It’s the fourth one that cracks, sliding your foot past the fifth, sixth, seventh. You gasp as you slide, butt hitting each step until the bottom. You land face-first on the burgundy carpet. A quick body scan reveals a scraped nose, a sore rump, and — worst of all — a wounded pride. Surely you could have stopped yourself before you ate the rug? What the hell was that poor performance?

Never mind. It’s not important. Not as important as Chuuya, at least.

You peek through the closet door. Nothing. No shadow people, no strange women, no knight in designer armor.

Outside you venture, gloves pressed into your skin as though they were a worthy wooden shield and not soft leather smaller than your own hands.

The entire second floor is empty. You poke your head into each room several times to check, then head toward the staircase. You remember (now, after your fall) that stairs are stronger at the ends, away from the middle, so you walk with one foot pressed against the bannister. It is, perhaps, the quietest you’ve ever been inside the house.

There’s no one on the first floor, either, and you haven’t been able to find a basement. So where the hell–

Voices.

Voices coming through the floorboards.

You kneel down and press your ear against the ground.

The voices are muffled, but you can almost make them out. You hold your breath to hear more clearly.

The only thing you hear is your name, tossed about by several of the voices.

Chuuya’s isn’t one of them.

Someone shouts, crying out for blood. Their single cry turns into a chant, broken occasionally by a chilling shriek of your name.

They’re mine, you make out among chanting. After all…

“I found them first.”

You gasp and jump forward, twisting your body to see the man behind you. He towers above your crouched form, glaring down at you with something like malice. His shadow twists into yours, ignoring the light coming from the front hall. Pure hatred crawls up your spine, chilling to your bones.

There’s something deeply wrong with this man.

His fingers twitch.

Your hand erupts in pain.

You scream and hold it up. An inky black spike runs clean through the middle of your palm. You brace yourself for blood as it dissipates.

There is none, though. Just a cold white circle on your skin.

You look up at the man. More spikes rise around him.

You turn and pull yourself into a run.

They feel like bullets that pierce your legs.

You grunt as you hit the ground. The pain grows the longer the spikes are stuck in you. You don’t know how to pull them out.

Your hair rustles as he kneels and places a hand on your head. “It hurts, doesn’t it? It’s the same thing I felt when I died.” Your body goes numb. “It will be much worse for you.”

You swing backwards, fist making contact with his chest. He’s knocked off balance, and you spare a tiny moment for thoughts as to why.

And then you’re racing for the door again. The man shouts behind you, but you’re through the front door when his shadow spears your stomach.

The pain is intense, more so than before. A raging hellfire burning inside your abdomen, scraping itself into your chest and lungs. You heave into the grass; bile runs into the pathway.

You cough and look behind you, but the man stopped on the bottom step. There’s barely a foot between you and him, but all he does is glare down at you, teeth bared in a snarl.

He can’t go any farther. He’s at the boundary of the house.

Your trembling arms threaten to drop you face-first into your own vomit, but you manage to scoot away first. Then you’re laying on your back, and your heart pounds a mile a minute, and the rain is cold, and your blood rushes to your head because it’s on the downward slope of the hill, and you can breathe. You can breathe.

And laugh, apparently. Frantic, half-conscious giggles escape your mouth and are carried away on the wind. And then you groan as you sit up — the pain is not nearly as bad as it was a second ago, but still persists as a dull throb.

You shiver in the cold. You don’t have any shoes, or even any socks. You wrap your arms around yourself and feel something pressed into your shoulder.

Chuuya’s gloves. Wrinkled by your fist and dampened by the rain, they glow with a dark red light. You’re not sure what it means, but it scares you.

Where is he?

You make your way down the gravel path and to your car, sitting just inside the gates. Chuuya makes you keep it here so it wouldn’t be too close to the house. You never really understood why until tonight.

The dashboard lights up when you insert the spare key(kept taped to the underside of your seat), and the heat flares to life soon after. You wave your fingers in front of the vent until some feeling returns to them. The air does little to dry you out, but the gloves are dry before you know it. They still glow, faintly, fading, sputtering in and out.

You have to find him.

You’ll drive the car up to the porch, you decide. And you’ll stand just inside the spiritual boundary to lure out a ghost, and then you’ll step back and question them. It’s a sound plan. Probably.

You’re just swinging the car around when the headlights catch on a dark shadow above the brick fence. Your heartbeat kicks up a notch.

Then falls silent in your chest.

“Chuuya!” you scream as you exit the vehicle.

He doesn’t move. You can barely reach his hand to shake him. You pull the car closer, as close as you dare, close enough to fold the passenger side mirror against the side of the car. You hop out and up onto the hood, then the roof, and you’re finally able to reach him.

He’s not breathing–

Which is normal, you remind yourself. He’s dead. Of course he’s not breathing.

“Chuuya,” you whisper, again and again, repeating his name like a prayer. He’s laying on his back on top of the fence. Four iron spikes pierce his chest, stomach, and leg. He looks solid, there, more solid in pain than he ever has before. You have to get him down.

Your hands pass right through him. You can’t touch him.

Tears well up that you refuse to let fall.

Why can’t you touch him? Sure, it takes energy, energy he obviously doesn’t have right now, but you managed to push the other ghost! What was different now? What was–

The gloves. You were holding his gloves when you shoved the other guy.

They creak when you put them on, but do not tear.

And, miraculously, amazingly, gratefully, you grab his shoulder.

You brace your knee on the concrete and pull. His fingers twitch, and his face contorts. You whisper apology after apology as you lift him off the spikes. He grunts as you pull him forward, resting his chest against your shoulder. You’re halfway through freeing his leg when his arms wrap around you and his fists close in the fabric of your nightshirt.

“Told ya to stay… in the attic…” he rasps in your ear.

If a voice could make people drunk, you’re pretty sure that’s what this feels like.

You sob into the air, hugging Chuuya with all your might. He gasps and pushes you away. He cradles your face, studying it.

“You… You’re still alive…” he breathes. “But you…” his hand squeezes yours. “How?”

You squeeze his hand in return, then release it. You hold it in front of his face. “This is yours, right?” The glow is stronger now, emitting a dark red light.

He slides his palm up and laces his fingers between yours.

It’s the first time you’ve properly held hands with him.

He moves his face forward, pressing your foreheads together. “I thought you were dead,” he whispers. “Thought I was never going to see ya again.”

“I’m here,” you whisper back. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t stay. They’ll kill you.”

You know that. You are highly aware of that. Your bones still tremble in the cold from the rooftop, your back still aches where it was stabbed. But you don’t want to leave him. “What about you?” You pull back to look at his face. “What’s going to happen to you if I leave?”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “I’ll be fine. I can fight back.”

“What about this?” You grab his thigh where the tip of the spike pokes through. He flinches. “How did this happen?” you whisper.

He looks around before he answers, keeping one hand on your back and the other in yours. You shiver, despite the fact that his touch is no longer cold to you. “You need help, first,” he says, and lowers you to your car.

“What about you?” You grab the spokes to brace yourself against the wind. “You’re still stuck.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” he tells you, “so just get in the car.” He holds your hand for as long as he can while you slide onto the hood and then the ground. You glance up at him as you open the door, but he waves at you to hurry.

Blessed warmth. You hadn’t realized how cold you were, but now your body aches in the heat blowing from the vents. Your fingers crack when they bend and your cheeks begin to thaw. You’re still shaking, though, despite holding your hands to the vents and rubbing them across your frozen skin.

Thud!

You scream when the car rocks.

“Just me,” Chuuya says, head sticking upside down through the windshield. He crawls onto the ceiling of the car, then plops into the passenger seat. He leans the seat back and places a hand over the wounds on his chest.

It’s not blood that oozes from it, but something darker, something almost black that spreads into the air like smoke. You hover your own hand over his, and he takes it with his free hand. “I’m okay,” he whispers into your palm before kissing it. “I’ll be okay.”

“What can I do?” you ask, but he shakes his head.

“You’re here. That’s enough. I just need sleep.”

You nod, and he drops his hand to the glovebox between you, still wrapped around yours. His head lolls to the side. In the reflection in the mirror, his eyes are slightly closed, his mouth is slightly open.

His body starts to fade. So does the glow from the gloves.

And that is very, very bad, you think.

“Chuuya?” You shake his shoulder. He doesn’t respond. “Chuuya!”

Your hand begins to sink through him, despite the glove.

He’s going to disappear.

You won’t let that happen.

You lean over him, hands pressed into his heart. You don’t know how he took energy from you before, but he did say it felt so bad because you gave it to him. You try to dredge up that feeling again.

It comes to you slowly, or maybe it only feels slow because of how cold you already are. All the warmth you’ve gathered since entering the car leaves you, flowing into Chuuya. His wounds close, and the fabric over them repairs itself. He grows more solid under your touch. His eyes begin to flutter as the ice spreads through your veins.

He shouts your name.

Your vision goes dark.

And then gray.

And then blinding white.

You blink against the light, squinting to see through it. Sitting up takes more effort than it should; your limbs are heavy and your head swims in circles. You raise a hand to massage away the headache that threatens to knock you out again.

“Oh, you’re awake!” A man saunters in, hands in the pockets of his tan overcoat. He calls out the door, “They’re awake! Told you, Kunikida!” He sits down in the chair beside your bed(your hospital bed; you find that appropriate, somehow) and says, as if he’s known you your whole life, “We were so worried about you! How’re you feeling? Hypothermia is nothing to take lightly, you know.”

……..You have no idea who this man is.

Kunikida, on the other hand, sparks a distant memory from almost a year ago. “You’re the ghost hunter!” you say, pointing to him. He grimaces, as does his partner.

“We are paranormal investigators,” he tells you at the same time his partner huffs, “Don’t ignore me like that!”

“What are you doing here?”

Kunikida unfolds a newspaper and offers it to you. You frown as you read over it. The article doesn’t bother you at all; it’s just a short rundown of your house’s morbid history, followed by a few sentences about the mysterious call that led paramedics to you, half frozen in your car. No, what bothers you most are the notes, written in scribbly red ink across the paper.

Your address, the nearest hospital locations, even your own name, which isn’t in the article in the first place.

You eye the two men, holding the paper like a shield between you. “Have you been stalking me?”

“Yep!” says the first man.

“No!” says the other. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “We like to keep tabs on the house at this address. But beyond an occasional drive-by, we don’t investigate further.”

Drive-by. Investigate. What.

“I… do not like that.”

“We’re sorry,” Kunikida says, “but it’s a necessary part of our job.”

“It’s a dangerous house, you understand,” the first man says. “I would gladly take your place, but my partner here won’t let me.” H takes your hand and holds it between his. “Unless you want to join me? It would be a beautiful double–”

“Yes, yes, you freak.” Kunikida interrupts, taking one of the man’s hands and holding it. “No one is going to commit suicide wtih you.”

You pull your hand away from his and into your lap. “I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

“We just want to check in with you,” Kunikida says. He sinks into the chair beside the first man(you should really ask his name) and, while still holding his hand, pulls a notebook from his vest pocket. “We also wanted to ask about what happened two nights ago that led to you nearly freezing in your car.”

You…. don’t trust these men. “Why do you want to know?”

“I told you, we like to keep a record of all the incidents that happen there.”

“And why is that?”

“So we know what to expect when we investigate. Ranpo and Dazai have a pretty good idea, but I like to be thorough.”

“Investigate?”

“With your permission, of course.”

Oh. They want to investigate your house.

Wh-

Why?

You narrow your eyes. “What do you expect to find?”

“Ghosts, ghouls, and demons!” the first man exclaims. He swings his and Kunikida’s hands back and forth between the chairs.

“Don’t scare them, Dazai.” Kunikida admonishes. To you, he says, “You won’t have to worry about anything. We’ll do a thorough investigation and clean up all the spirits we find.”

Well. That’s not going to work, is it? Chuuya’s gloves are right there on the bedside table. If all spirits include him and Elise, then….

“We haven’t had a chance to explore it yet. All the owners sold it when the hauntings became too much for them. They didn’t even think to look deeper into it. But we have a whole team of psychics, all of whom have their own method of exorcism. There won’t be a thing to worry about once we’re done.”

Your frown deepens with every word. Dazai has to nudge Kunikida to quiet him. In the following silence, you ask, “Why are you so interested in my house?”

 “It is dangerous,” Dazai tells you again, “and it’s host to the most activity in town. It would be an interesting experience, if nothing else.”

“Is that it?” You shake your head. “I don’t feel comfortable letting complete strangers into my house for such a silly reason.”

“I assure you, it’s not silly.” Kunikida opens the notebook and starts reading off the stories he’s collected — stories you are well aware of, after all your research and everything Chuuya’s told you. It’s when he reaches the decade-old murder of a young woman that you interrupt him.

“I know the history of the house, thank you.” Did that sound sarcastic? That totally sounded sarcastic. It just wasn’t sarcastic enough. “I’m still not interested.”

“But this incident was only the first,” Kunkida says. “If you stay, you’re going to have another. And no one will be there to save you next time.”

You’re not so sure about that.

You return home the next day. You stand just outside the gate, staring up the hill to your house. You shiver in the wind that blows fallen leaves into your yard. The gate squeaks as you open it. Your car is still parked against the inner wall. You don’t know what awaits you inside the house, or even just inside the gate, but everything looks fine from the outside.

Except for your missing mailbox.

Your heart pounds as you make your way up the path and to your porch. The doorknob twists under your hand. You peek around the door, but there’s nothing behind it. It’s not even all that dark; sunlight streams through the windows in other rooms and leaks into the front hallway.

You step inside and close the door behind you.

And then are thrown back into it.

You gasp as arms wrap around you.

A face presses into your stomach.

And–

And–

And someone giggles.

You blink down at the head of blonde hair, tied back with a maroon bow. She raises her head to meet your gaze with bright blue eyes.

“Elise,” you breathe, patting her head with a gloved hand.

“You’re back!” she exclaims, and you blink — you’ve never heard her speak before.

“Well, look at that. She likes you.”

You jolt at the new voice. You have no idea who said that, but you do know it doesn’t belong to either of the two ghosts you trust.

Elise turns and huffs. “You promised!” she calls into the hall.

“Yes, yes, of course. I won’t touch them.” You blink, and a man appears at the base of the stairs. He’s tall and lanky, with slicked back hair and a piercing gaze. “I was just making an observation. You don’t usually let people hear you.”

“Well I like this one.”

“Right, right. I won’t take your toy away. Not yet.” He turns his attention to you. Your blood runs cold.

“Um,” you stammer, “you must be the doctor.” Elise’s father and murderer. “I-it’s nice to me-meet you.” You’re not sure if you should offer a handshake or not.

“I am,” he nods, “my name is Ougai Mori. I hope we can get along in the future.”

And just like that, he disappears.

You flinch. Elise huffs. “He won’t bother you,” she says, waving a hand. “He doesn't want to upset me, and he’s always trying to make up for killing me. Besides, I’m not the only one who will be angry if anything happens to you.”

Your eyes widen. “You mean–” you breathe. “How-how is…”

Something crashes upstairs.

Elise hops in place and points, setting a hand on your back.

You race up the stairs and to your bedroom. The door to it is wide open. On the floor across from it is your mailbox.

“You should really lock your door, you know?”