#through my phone without speaking to a human

[notveryshrugemoji]

There’s a trend on tiktok rn that’s like “I’m definitely born in the right time” (bc tiktok is in its *I was born in the wrong time!!!* phase) and then it’ll be like “bc I can go get a silly little coffee anytime I want”

#mine would be #that I just ordered food for delivery #through my phone without speaking to a human #contactless delivery lol #I’m born in the right time

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“Humans in the loop” must detect the hardest-to-spot errors, at superhuman speed

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

If AI has a future (a big if), it will have to be economically viable. An industry can't spend 1,700% more on Nvidia chips than it earns indefinitely – not even with Nvidia being a principle investor in its largest customers:

https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=39883571

A company that pays 0.36-1 cents/query for electricity and (scarce, fresh) water can't indefinitely give those queries away by the millions to people who are expected to revise those queries dozens of times before eliciting the perfect botshit rendition of "instructions for removing a grilled cheese sandwich from a VCR in the style of the King James Bible":

https://www.semianalysis.com/p/the-inference-cost-of-search-disruption

Eventually, the industry will have to uncover some mix of applications that will cover its operating costs, if only to keep the lights on in the face of investor disillusionment (this isn't optional – investor disillusionment is an inevitable part of every bubble).

Now, there are lots of low-stakes applications for AI that can run just fine on the current AI technology, despite its many – and seemingly inescapable - errors ("hallucinations"). People who use AI to generate illustrations of their D&D characters engaged in epic adventures from their previous gaming session don't care about the odd extra finger. If the chatbot powering a tourist's automatic text-to-translation-to-speech phone tool gets a few words wrong, it's still much better than the alternative of speaking slowly and loudly in your own language while making emphatic hand-gestures.

There are lots of these applications, and many of the people who benefit from them would doubtless pay something for them. The problem – from an AI company's perspective – is that these aren't just low-stakes, they're also low-value. Their users would pay something for them, but not very much.

For AI to keep its servers on through the coming trough of disillusionment, it will have to locate high-value applications, too. Economically speaking, the function of low-value applications is to soak up excess capacity and produce value at the margins after the high-value applications pay the bills. Low-value applications are a side-dish, like the coach seats on an airplane whose total operating expenses are paid by the business class passengers up front. Without the principle income from high-value applications, the servers shut down, and the low-value applications disappear:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

Now, there are lots of high-value applications the AI industry has identified for its products. Broadly speaking, these high-value applications share the same problem: they are all high-stakes, which means they are very sensitive to errors. Mistakes made by apps that produce code, drive cars, or identify cancerous masses on chest X-rays are extremely consequential.

Some businesses may be insensitive to those consequences. Air Canada replaced its human customer service staff with chatbots that just lied to passengers, stealing hundreds of dollars from them in the process. But the process for getting your money back after you are defrauded by Air Canada's chatbot is so onerous that only one passenger has bothered to go through it, spending ten weeks exhausting all of Air Canada's internal review mechanisms before fighting his case for weeks more at the regulator:

https://bc.ctvnews.ca/air-canada-s-chatbot-gave-a-b-c-man-the-wrong-information-now-the-airline-has-to-pay-for-the-mistake-1.6769454

There's never just one ant. If this guy was defrauded by an AC chatbot, so were hundreds or thousands of other fliers. Air Canada doesn't have to pay them back. Air Canada is tacitly asserting that, as the country's flagship carrier and near-monopolist, it is too big to fail and too big to jail, which means it's too big to care.

Air Canada shows that for some business customers, AI doesn't need to be able to do a worker's job in order to be a smart purchase: a chatbot can replace a worker, fail to their worker's job, and still save the company money on balance.

I can't predict whether the world's sociopathic monopolists are numerous and powerful enough to keep the lights on for AI companies through leases for automation systems that let them commit consequence-free free fraud by replacing workers with chatbots that serve as moral crumple-zones for furious customers:

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0747563219304029

But even stipulating that this is sufficient, it's intrinsically unstable. Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops, and the mass replacement of humans with high-speed fraud software seems likely to stoke the already blazing furnace of modern antitrust:

https://www.eff.org/de/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

Of course, the AI companies have their own answer to this conundrum. A high-stakes/high-value customer can still fire workers and replace them with AI – they just need to hire fewer, cheaper workers to supervise the AI and monitor it for "hallucinations." This is called the "human in the loop" solution.

The human in the loop story has some glaring holes. From a worker's perspective, serving as the human in the loop in a scheme that cuts wage bills through AI is a nightmare – the worst possible kind of automation.

Let's pause for a little detour through automation theory here. Automation can augment a worker. We can call this a "centaur" – the worker offloads a repetitive task, or one that requires a high degree of vigilance, or (worst of all) both. They're a human head on a robot body (hence "centaur"). Think of the sensor/vision system in your car that beeps if you activate your turn-signal while a car is in your blind spot. You're in charge, but you're getting a second opinion from the robot.

Likewise, consider an AI tool that double-checks a radiologist's diagnosis of your chest X-ray and suggests a second look when its assessment doesn't match the radiologist's. Again, the human is in charge, but the robot is serving as a backstop and helpmeet, using its inexhaustible robotic vigilance to augment human skill.

That's centaurs. They're the good automation. Then there's the bad automation: the reverse-centaur, when the human is used to augment the robot.

Amazon warehouse pickers stand in one place while robotic shelving units trundle up to them at speed; then, the haptic bracelets shackled around their wrists buzz at them, directing them pick up specific items and move them to a basket, while a third automation system penalizes them for taking toilet breaks or even just walking around and shaking out their limbs to avoid a repetitive strain injury. This is a robotic head using a human body – and destroying it in the process.

An AI-assisted radiologist processes fewer chest X-rays every day, costing their employer more, on top of the cost of the AI. That's not what AI companies are selling. They're offering hospitals the power to create reverse centaurs: radiologist-assisted AIs. That's what "human in the loop" means.

This is a problem for workers, but it's also a problem for their bosses (assuming those bosses actually care about correcting AI hallucinations, rather than providing a figleaf that lets them commit fraud or kill people and shift the blame to an unpunishable AI).

Humans are good at a lot of things, but they're not good at eternal, perfect vigilance. Writing code is hard, but performing code-review (where you check someone else's code for errors) is much harder – and it gets even harder if the code you're reviewing is usually fine, because this requires that you maintain your vigilance for something that only occurs at rare and unpredictable intervals:

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773779967521780169

But for a coding shop to make the cost of an AI pencil out, the human in the loop needs to be able to process a lot of AI-generated code. Replacing a human with an AI doesn't produce any savings if you need to hire two more humans to take turns doing close reads of the AI's code.

This is the fatal flaw in robo-taxi schemes. The "human in the loop" who is supposed to keep the murderbot from smashing into other cars, steering into oncoming traffic, or running down pedestrians isn't a driver, they're a driving instructor. This is a much harder job than being a driver, even when the student driver you're monitoring is a human, making human mistakes at human speed. It's even harder when the student driver is a robot, making errors at computer speed:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/01/human-in-the-loop/#monkey-in-the-middle

This is why the doomed robo-taxi company Cruise had to deploy 1.5 skilled, high-paid human monitors to oversee each of its murderbots, while traditional taxis operate at a fraction of the cost with a single, precaratized, low-paid human driver:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

The vigilance problem is pretty fatal for the human-in-the-loop gambit, but there's another problem that is, if anything, even more fatal: the kinds of errors that AIs make.

Foundationally, AI is applied statistics. An AI company trains its AI by feeding it a lot of data about the real world. The program processes this data, looking for statistical correlations in that data, and makes a model of the world based on those correlations. A chatbot is a next-word-guessing program, and an AI "art" generator is a next-pixel-guessing program. They're drawing on billions of documents to find the most statistically likely way of finishing a sentence or a line of pixels in a bitmap:

https://dl.acm.org/doi/10.1145/3442188.3445922

This means that AI doesn't just make errors – it makes subtle errors, the kinds of errors that are the hardest for a human in the loop to spot, because they are the most statistically probable ways of being wrong. Sure, we notice the gross errors in AI output, like confidently claiming that a living human is dead:

https://www.tomsguide.com/opinion/according-to-chatgpt-im-dead

But the most common errors that AIs make are the ones we don't notice, because they're perfectly camouflaged as the truth. Think of the recurring AI programming error that inserts a call to a nonexistent library called "huggingface-cli," which is what the library would be called if developers reliably followed naming conventions. But due to a human inconsistency, the real library has a slightly different name. The fact that AIs repeatedly inserted references to the nonexistent library opened up a vulnerability – a security researcher created a (inert) malicious library with that name and tricked numerous companies into compiling it into their code because their human reviewers missed the chatbot's (statistically indistinguishable from the the truth) lie:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/03/28/ai_bots_hallucinate_software_packages/

For a driving instructor or a code reviewer overseeing a human subject, the majority of errors are comparatively easy to spot, because they're the kinds of errors that lead to inconsistent library naming – places where a human behaved erratically or irregularly. But when reality is irregular or erratic, the AI will make errors by presuming that things are statistically normal.

These are the hardest kinds of errors to spot. They couldn't be harder for a human to detect if they were specifically designed to go undetected. The human in the loop isn't just being asked to spot mistakes – they're being actively deceived. The AI isn't merely wrong, it's constructing a subtle "what's wrong with this picture"-style puzzle. Not just one such puzzle, either: millions of them, at speed, which must be solved by the human in the loop, who must remain perfectly vigilant for things that are, by definition, almost totally unnoticeable.

This is a special new torment for reverse centaurs – and a significant problem for AI companies hoping to accumulate and keep enough high-value, high-stakes customers on their books to weather the coming trough of disillusionment.

This is pretty grim, but it gets grimmer. AI companies have argued that they have a third line of business, a way to make money for their customers beyond automation's gifts to their payrolls: they claim that they can perform difficult scientific tasks at superhuman speed, producing billion-dollar insights (new materials, new drugs, new proteins) at unimaginable speed.

However, these claims – credulously amplified by the non-technical press – keep on shattering when they are tested by experts who understand the esoteric domains in which AI is said to have an unbeatable advantage. For example, Google claimed that its Deepmind AI had discovered "millions of new materials," "equivalent to nearly 800 years’ worth of knowledge," constituting "an order-of-magnitude expansion in stable materials known to humanity":

https://deepmind.google/discover/blog/millions-of-new-materials-discovered-with-deep-learning/

It was a hoax. When independent material scientists reviewed representative samples of these "new materials," they concluded that "no new materials have been discovered" and that not one of these materials was "credible, useful and novel":

https://www.404media.co/google-says-it-discovered-millions-of-new-materials-with-ai-human-researchers/

As Brian Merchant writes, AI claims are eerily similar to "smoke and mirrors" – the dazzling reality-distortion field thrown up by 17th century magic lantern technology, which millions of people ascribed wild capabilities to, thanks to the outlandish claims of the technology's promoters:

https://www.bloodinthemachine.com/p/ai-really-is-smoke-and-mirrors

The fact that we have a four-hundred-year-old name for this phenomenon, and yet we're still falling prey to it is frankly a little depressing. And, unlucky for us, it turns out that AI therapybots can't help us with this – rather, they're apt to literally convince us to kill ourselves:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/pkadgm/man-dies-by-suicide-after-talking-with-ai-chatbot-widow-says

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #ai #automation #humans in the loop #centaurs #reverse centaurs #labor #ai safety #sanity checks #spot the mistake #code review #driving instructor

[p0rk-guts]

Velvette if she served cunt

Design breakdown below 👇🏾(BEWARE IT'S VERY LONG)

Alright going into detail about my gripes and edits. Like Velvette but her design is just. Not good to me. None of her (main) outfit details look like they fit to me— pinstripe pants + long fur coat paired with black crop top and scene sleeves? Skull earrings? TINKERBELL HEELS????? Tell me how any of that meshes well or even makes SENSE for the social media influencer persona she's supposed to have going on. Now that I think about it I'm pretty sure she's supposed to be clown themed... But I'm just gonna toss that idea out bc being a revered social media influencer and a clown at the same time just seems a bit oxymoronic to me, and the "clown" details aren't adding shit for me.

And don't think I forgot about her features. Pale ash grey skin and wavy hair at best. If she was supposed to be some type of creature where a nonhuman skin tone would make sense then maybe I could let it go?? But as far as I can tell she doesn't have an object or creature or animal theme like the other V's and if she does I shouldn't need to do detective work to figure it out. There is no reason for *any* of these poc characters to have grey skin, especially since they don't have any other poc features at all.

Sorry that shit gets me heated anyways. Onto my redesign. Gave her a more obviously black skin tone and textured hair bc I love a 30 inch buss down as much as the next girl but considering how there are no significant poc cast members with visibly textured hair I think she deserves to flaunt some coils if no one else will.

Ngl I'm not. A fashion girlie. Idk what's trendy idk what screams "influencer" so a lot of this was just throwing shit at the wall that I've seen around recently but it looks cute enough to me. And there was a bit of inspiration taken from Aliyahcore and ghetto fabulous fashion ❤️

If you can't tell this is shamefully inspired by lovesart23's Velvette reimagining because imo they had some outstanding ideas for Vel. I low-key stole their idea for those floating eyes in her hair that follow her around and help her keep tabs on shit it was just a superb idea for a social media overlord to me. I also took some inspo from @furbtasticworksofart 's redesign because vampire influencer sucking up the souls of her followers in exchange for content??? Too good (also the eyes were supposed to have bat/vamp wings I just forgot 😭) So yeah she's a vampire demon now. Without the features she was looking too human anyhow. Maybe she also feeds off of the energy of her followers through tech like after Vox mind controls them or whatever... Idk idk is that anything

Speaking of Vox, the screen glasses are meant to connect her to him w/ their color and shape while serving the purpose of being like a second phone she can post and check the web with. Like lovesart said in their reimagining vid, Vel doesn't really do more than pose for selfies and scroll on her phone when it comes to social media so in my head she's constantly flipping her shades on and off, using them to scroll and stay active, and they can show when she's not paying attention or respect to something/someone bc scrolling is more worth her time in the moment.

The hearts everywhere are also supposed to kinda represent social media likes + connect her back to Val w/ his heart patterns. That might've been what the hearts in her og design were for but. I just didn't like their placement bc I'm a nitpicker and a hater❕

I have so much more I could say about possible ideas for Velvette because I love evil black girls and I only want them to succeed in my media and I could treat her so much BETTER but I'll refrain bc this is way too long anyway.

Alright for reading/scrolling through all that rambling I offer you the sketches + some alt hair ideas I had

P.S. I'm very open to constructive criticism but if I see anyone just dick riding in my replies or rb's I'm just blocking you on sight ✌🏾

#hazbin hotel #velvette #velvette hazbin hotel #velvette redesign #hazbin hotel redesign #my art #digital art #character design

[gh0stlyfixation]

5 reasons you’ve cried while pregnant

John Price addition

Simon Riley addition here

Johnny “Soap” McTavish

1. You were very emotional as it was, but now? Four months pregnant it was a rollercoaster ride. Man, what John would do to avoid those tears, you want a cheeseburger from across town and that lemonade only the gas station in the other town had? He’ll get it. But sometimes things can’t be avoided.

You walk in with your shopping bags, eyes full of tears. You drop the bags and catch John's attention from the kitchen only for him to drop what he was doing to rush to you. “What’s wrong baby?” He asks you.

“A little bumblebee died on my car while I was shopping.” You sob, you felt so stupid but you just couldn’t stop crying. John was taken aback not knowing how to respond as he generally rubbed your back to try and console you.

2. You tried, you tried hard not to call John during his debriefing meeting with the team. John checks his phone as he speaks to the team, “hold on guys,” he sighs and walks out. He steps just outside the door keeping it open. “Love?” He asked, he sounds annoyed.

It was only month six, you felt useless and helpless. You heard the annoyance in his tone. You felt even more guilty for calling for such a stupid reason, “never mind. I’m sorry for bothering you.” You say sniffling.

John immediately feels guilty for the way he answered, “no baby, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to sound mean.” John says quietly as the team watches him through the door.

“I um, I can’t open the orange juice jug and I want the orange juice and I can’t have it.” You ramble crying harder.

He pinches his nose, “the meeting is almost over, I’ll be home soon so you can have your orange juice. Just stay strong. You can do it.” He says making all the men snicker, including Simon. Price hangs up after consoling you some more. “I suggest you shut it. Especially you Simon because not long ago, your petting zoo started.” Price says. All the boys laugh at Simon now, what started as a cat ended up as a baby goat that now rests happily in his house.

3. It was 3 am, your designated snack time. Tonight? Cupcakes WITHOUT the icing, but to your dismay, you didn’t have any cupcakes. Tears, immediately.

You waddled to your bedroom where Price slept soundly (not for long), you shake him awake not being gentle, did you eat my cupcakes!” You yell at him.

He’s half asleep, all he sees is your red face and angry tears streaming down your face. He’s groggy, “I- I don’t know?” He mumbles.

“You ate them!” You cry harder now realizing there weren’t any cupcakes.

“I’ll go to the store, and get you some more!” He says now realizing how dire the situation is. He works in two hours, this isn’t how he wanted to start his day.

“I don’t want icing on them!” You yell at him.

“I’ll eat all the icing, you won’t even notice there was icing!” He says quickly pulling on his shoes.

When he returns home, he sits at the dining table as he eats off all the icing and you sit happily with the naked cupcakes. He glares at you as his stomach starts to ache from all the sugary icing, he hates sugar, but seeing you smile after just screaming at him, he’ll deal with the aches.

4. You starred long and hard at the ground constantly shifting your body around, “what are you doing love?” John smiles as he lifted himself on his elbows on the bed to watch you.

“Can’t see my feet.” Your bottom lip trembled and he sees it through the mirror, he gets up to try and stop the tears, “I’m so fat!” You cry stomping your foot on the ground.

“No love, you aren’t fat! Your growing a tiny human in your belly!” John tries to argue.

“I’m fat!” You say sobbing, pushing him away, “don’t wanna be touched.” You cry even harder.

5. You’ve sent John through the wringer these last few months but month nine? Fuck, it was a challenge. You were angry or horny most of the time, even he couldn’t keep up with your pace.

“Johnn,” you whine, “it hurts.” You sniffle.

“What hurts baby?” He asks rubbing your lower back

“Down there, need you.” You sob into the pillow. Fuck, this was one of the times he loved seeing you cry. Crying for him, “please,” you ask looking up at him with tears running down your face.

“Oh baby, how can I say no to you looking like that?” He asks before lifting your nightgown and diving in.

#captain john price #john price x reader #john price #captain price x reader #mw2022 #mw2 x reader #mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2

[jonphaedrus]

some facts about my father, a perfectly ordinary human being:

got tenure in two years by getting two 2.5-million dollar grants from the government and he's now held that job for the longest time any faculty at his university has ever been tenured. literally almost longer than his entire school has existed.

he's won a fullbright...thrice.

speaks five languages (fluently: english, hebrew, russian; functionally: polish, dutch) and can get around in three others (german, japanese, and "pidgin arabic" whatever the fuck that means)

he was once locked inside the great pyramid at giza. on purpose.

one time i went to austin when he was out of town and when we got back to his house the only food in his fridge was 1) bulk family size cocktail shrimp from costco with all the shrimp eaten out of it and only the marinade left, 2) three boxes worth of frozen yoghurt bars, 3) two bags of frozen mini-wontons that expired two years earlier

has only one demand for his funeral and it's that while his casket is being lowered into the ground i make sure they play "whatever it is, i'm against it!" from the marx brothers film horse feathers

broke into (and out of) martial law poland in the early 80s and brought four hams in his back seat so he could spent six months living with his girlfriend, including a short period of time where he tried to drive from białystok to kraków in the middle of a blizzard, got lost, had no phone, no map, ran into the police, accidentally gave them his fake texas passport and almost got deported, bribed them with a ham, and then somehow ended up at his girlfriend's brother's apartment by complete happenstance and got blind drunk for a week

made friends with his assigned kgb agent in the 70s in russia

his car broke down in the middle of the sinai desert in the 70s and was saved from dying by a roaming passing band of bedouin car mechanics who took his entire car apart and put it back together and drove off without saying anything except "it works."

convinced me and one of my childhood best friends that he had found a way to time travel an hour into the future through the careful use of daylight savings, a radio station, a car clock, and the fact that he has never been on time for anything in his entire life

when he got his house renovated he decided that two attics and two cleverly hidden crawl spaces wasn't enough, so he added two more attics and another cleverly hidden crawl space, and i wish good luck to whatever poor schmuck (my cousin) has to sell his house someday.

broke his cherry-wood dining table under piles of papers...twice.

when in grad school, pretended to be a visiting russian statistics professor named "professor blowjob" (in russian) and somehow got away with this in order to teach a lecture on how s of x = f of n (sex is fun)

conned me into the belief that i had a magical color-changing guinea pig and kept this act up for literally a decade before admitting the truth

became a fellow on one of the yellow river restoration projects by making friends with an old man doing tai chi with a sword in a park in beijing. turned out that old man with a sword in a park in beijing was the head of the national environmental protection office at the time.

#ill add more as i think of them. #and post links to the full stories once i get my dad to tell me them #so i can write them down #his versions are funnier than mine #this is a stable writing tag

[jawllines]

So on a Tuesday, Y/N wakes up from a fitful rest and leaves Harry’s bed to find him in the kitchen. Leaf is cradled to his chest while he speaks to someone on the phone – a designer, she thinks, they’re talking about a pattern of something, but Y/N isn’t sure. She doesn’t get to know either because as soon as Harry sees that she’s awake, he smiles, then hovers his finger over the end button, “Mael, I’ll call you a little later, yeah?” He hangs up without a second thought, and Y/N’s eyes go wide. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she frowned and Harry waved his hand. 

“Nah, s’boring shit anyway. Chevron is a thing of the fucking past and it’s not coming back any time soon on my watch.” He turned on his stool, stretching out his legs and waving her forward, and when she got close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, until she was standing between his thighs, “You take forever to get up. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were still a human.” 

or

Harry and Y/N like being around each other maybe too much

part 1

part 2

part 3

iv.

Y/N wondered how many vampires she’d seen in her lifetime. 

Unlike the stories and movies, they didn’t lurk in the night and meld into the shadows all of the time. Their skin was pale, but no more pale than someone living in the mountains with very little sun. Their eyes weren’t red, or golden brown, or pools of black – they were just normal irises, no different than humans, the color encrypted in their DNA from conception. They were gorgeous, sometimes eerily so, but not in a way that you could easily group them by their features. It was comparable to being backstage on a runway – the people surrounding you were models, you knew that, and they were all beautiful in their own way with their own unique features. The difference is that instead of only finding them pretty in passing, it’s mesmerizing, almost hard to fathom, alluring in an almost unignorable way. 

But Y/N can’t remember ever being out in public and seeing a vampire, even if she didn’t know what they were called at the time. Clearly she didn’t, if one was able to ask her on a date and she’d just presumed she’d lucked out with an attractive man who didn’t mind dating below his league. Otherwise, they were masters of camouflage, or Y/N was just less observant than she thought. 

Because right now, even to the untrained eye, Y/N is almost positive that she looks like a vampire. Or at least that something is off with her. It’s in the way her posture is almost too correct, ramrod straight like someone straightened out her back and put her in a brace to keep her unmoving. Her chest did not rise and fall with each breath – not because the need to use her lungs had not been completely eradicated yet, but for the fact she’s taking a ton of shallow breaths through her mouth to avoid smelling anything, or anyone.  The way she holds her fork looks weird to her – she hadn’t held a fork in so long it was an unfamiliar weight between her fingers. She gave terse replies to questions, and could barely hold a conversation longer than small talk. 

To anyone looking or interacting with her, they must think she’d grown up in a basement and just recently ventured out into the world. To Harry, who sits across from her with an amused look dancing across his features, he knew she was just attempting to reacclimate into society. 

They had been out before, but normally that was at night, or early during cloudy weekdays when most of the city population is stuck in their stuffy office buildings. When the amount of humans is sparse and Y/N could amble away if being around them became too much. She’d never been forced to sit among them for longer than a couple minutes at a time, maybe waiting in a long line, or patiently off to the side when a human woman was interested in the same earrings that she was. 

That had been her toeing the water; Harry held her hand at the edge of a dock while she dipped her feet into the pool of being a productive member of society again. She would have to return to work at some point, and she would need to be able to attend social events or see her family, or her friends back home without wanting to eat them. Harry was surrounded by humans all day nearly every day and he hasn’t lashed out and ended up in a tabloid for sinking his teeth into a designer. It was possible, though it would take time, and a lot of practice – at some point she would be able to integrate seamlessly back into the human world. 

At some point – right now, it was fucking hard. 

Harry took her out for lunch, at a small deli a couple blocks from his flat. It was a day when the sky was heavy with clouds and would be for the majority of the afternoon, so they were able to venture out with no fear that Y/N would get all rashy again. All of Y/N’s fear lay within being in closed quarters with humans and pretending that the scent of their blood doesn’t affect her in the slightest. Or that the leaves of the salad she was stuffing into her mouth tasted more than just bland, rubbery nothing to a palate now keen on something metallic and sweet. And in that fear, and her overexerting her effort trying to look normal, she thinks she’s making herself look uncanny, unapproachable, and too much like she doesn’t belong. Like someone clipped her out of a comic book and pasted her in The Very Hungry Caterpillar. 

“Relax your shoulders,” Harry spoke from across the table, having already eaten half his sandwich, tucking the straw of his soda at the corner of his lips and sipping, “It looks like I just brought you out of a boarding school.” 

“Shut up.” Y/N had been saying that a lot to him today because it was two simple words that didn’t require as much effort as trying not to eat someone. 

Harry smiled, all too relaxed for what Y/N would think are pretty serious circumstances but she guesses he’s been through this so often he isn’t worried about a thing. Harry never seemed worried when they did something new, always promising her that he would know if she was going to do something stupid, because he knows her. And if the need to subdue her were to arise, then he could do so easily, or so he tells her every time she’s stressed about it. 

“You had plenty to eat before we came,” he murmured, voice just a touch lower, his brows raising slightly, “Even if you take a small little breath through your nose, you won’t feel like you need to do anything.” 

It’s difficult to talk inconspicuously about it, in case someone nosy was listening into their conversation (because Y/N is fucking nosy, so she knows someone else is bound to match her), but Harry does it easily. Y/N did eat a considerable amount before they did this, from the baggies, and even a little treat from Harry just before they’d left the flat. She was full, blood-drunk, and hazy up to the point that they were about to walk inside the shop and she’d worked herself up. 

“Mind over matter,” Harry slid his leg to her and locked their ankles together – he was resting his chin and cheek in his palm, watching her carefully, drinking her in, “Just take a small little breath through your nose, hm? You’ll see it’s not as bad as you think.” 

Y/N blinks at him, gripping her fork a little too hard, and she feels the stainless steel give beneath her grip, “I – okay,” she nodded, slow, steady – the whole point of this excursion was to start working on being able to smell humans without wanting to desperately sink her teeth into them. Before she could start utilizing feeders, she needed to be completely in control of how her body responds and reacts to stimuli like this. At least that’s what Harry tells her, and she’s inclined to believe him since there isn’t anyone to bounce off of his ideas anymore. She isn’t sure if they’re still on the pathway he used for all the new vampires he mentored or if he’d toggled it based on their situation. She could message Christopher and Naomi about it but every time she messages them, her heart yearns and aches in her chest.

“You’ll stop me if anything happens?” She knows he will, but she feels better when he’s all cocky and sure of himself. One of them needed complete faith in the situation, and it usually was Harry. 

Harry, who had been treating her all soft and tender lately. His words could still be harsh and he rolls his eyes and rumples his lips at her when she says something he thinks is stupid, and he’s patient, but even that patience runs out relatively quickly – but every interaction has a much softer edge to it. With every harsh critique of her technique or skill, (“How many times are you going to listen to the neighbor’s conversation and not me outside, downstairs, when you’re on the balcony? It shouldn’t matter how many flights up you are, this is baby stuff we’re trying to accomplish now!”) there is a gentle caress of her skin. His fingers will dance along her wrist, and he’ll slide his fingers between the slots of hers, and squeeze, before murmuring, “Let’s try again.” 

They are much closer now – Y/N doesn’t know if they’re dating, or if vampires even date, but she knows that Harry treats her like they might be. Harry pushes his nose into her neck and breathes in deeply like she’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. He entertains her musings about code and work despite not having a clue what she’s talking about or saying. At the end of the night (early in the morning) when she is thinking about lying down, Harry offers his room to her, his bed. 

“You can always sleep in here,” he’d told her, “Even if I’m not here, yeah? Just don’t stain the sheets or anything, because to keep them this pristine even with a kitten has been hell.” 

Shit, he’s even referred to Leaf as their baby a couple of times, whereas previously he’s only called her his own. “What are you doing to my baby?” Is what he would say before when Leaf is playing with one of the many feathered string toys that Harry bought her and Y/N accidentally makes her jump right into the wall. Now it’s things like, “Our baby is so happy,” when she comes up to them on the sofa, purring and kneading at Y/N’s thighs before snuggling in her lap and falling asleep. 

Things with him were soft. This certainly felt like a relationship, sometimes, but Y/N knew better than to get ahead of herself. Last time she did that she ran away from her hometown and then got bitten by a fucking vampire, so it was better to just take things a step at a time. 

“What, you think I’m g’na let you eat someone and make me look bad?” He speaks low enough that only she could hear, helped by the loud chatter of voices around them, and stretches one arm across the table, looping his fingers around her forearm, and dragging the blunt tip of his nail along her skin, “Of course I’ll stop you, dummy.” 

Y/N shivers but feels safe; he’s got a leg wrapped around hers, and a hand on her. If she tried to move, he would stop her immediately. Harry doesn’t say aloud that that’s what he’s doing, but they both know it makes her feel better when he’s got his hands on her in some way. She’d told him as much in the past when she’d looped her arm in the gap between his and his body when they first went into the grocery store. 

“Hm, is this a ploy to make me touch you in public? You’re a filthy exhibitionist.” He’d teased her at the time, but now he keeps his hand on her when they’re out. An arm wrapped around her shoulder, a hand at the nape of her neck, his fingers looped around her wrist. 

She lets herself breathe in, just a little bit, a tiny inhale through her nose. The scents weren’t overwhelming like she’d thought – there’s plenty to sift through, it wasn’t just an onslaught of the blood pumping through the veins surrounding them. Fresh bread, the fabric softener on people’s clothes, the cleaner used to wipe down tables when they were emptied – she smelled all of that too. All a mix, like when she was a human, only she could smell and separate them just a note better than she could before. And the blood – she couldn’t smell blood before, but with a belly full, it wasn’t as hard. It still made her mouth water, and there was an itch beneath her skin that wanted to be plucked at, but nothing she couldn’t handle. 

Harry drags his nails back and forth on her forearm lazily, “See?” His relaxed posture stays, leaning on his palm, “You’re not a monster, are you, baby?” 

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head, “No, I’m not,” she cleared her throat a little, “We need to –  um – we need to get Leaf chicken treats, she likes those best.” Y/N wanted to practice being normal, talking about normal things, and thinking about something else than how she’s trying not to breathe in too deeply. She didn’t necessarily explain this to Harry beforehand but he doesn’t seem confused either, just goes along with it. 

“Really? I kind of thought she liked the shrimp ones better.” 

Y/N focuses more on Harry’s scent – he smells good. He always smells so good, that whenever she does sleep in his bed, she dips her nose into the blankets and stuffs her face into the pillows (obviously when he’s not there, she would never live that down).  If she could shove her nose in the base of his throat and not stuff her teeth into his neck then she would do it all of the time. Harry does it to her, unprovoked and unannounced, burrowing the cold tip of his nose against her carotid. She used to squirm, her ear meeting her shoulder as she pulled away from him, but now she’s gotten used to it – now, she almost expects it when he comes home from work, and if he doesn’t, she’s a little disappointed. 

It’s easy to forget why she’s at Harry’s in the first place if she’s just focusing on her and Harry’s dynamic. It’s also easy to forget that she would eventually face the music when she has to confront her feelings – Niall. There was a heavy weight on her shoulders like she wore a helmet of cast iron everywhere she went; sometimes she would forget about it, it’d been so long that it was easy to let it slip her mind, but then her shoulders would feel the pressure of it periodically. 

Like when you wear glasses for the first time. At first, it is all you can think about, how it rests on the bridge of your nose, the way the frames outline your field of view. But a couple of hours in they’re merely an extension of you, you forget they’re on your face until you reach up to rub your eye and something is in the way. 

The helmet was heavy, the look in Niall’s eyes as he told her, the cold feeling that had flushed through her veins when he’d admitted it. She wondered if it felt like his own helmet had been lifted, the weight of his guilt eased by the admission. Did he know he was going to transfer it to her? Take the helmet off and plop it onto her head? 

Her heart was torn in two. Y/N wanted to hate him for it, she really did – want to cuss him out, scratch him, and spit on him – how did vampires fight? Did they bite each other? Do they punch each other? Kick, slap? Was it still below the belt to kick him in the balls or was that an appropriate fighting tactic? Harry had never taught her how to fight – she thought maybe some sort of combat training would be important down the line, but vampires don’t usually do that. Movies and books make it seem like it was a constant battle, always something going on that they needed to defeat. Vampires typically coexist peacefully, is the thing, and their only true threat are hunters but it’s often better to avoid them or flee the situation than to fight, at least when you’re new. As long as she doesn’t act recklessly then she wouldn’t have to worry. 

And in the same breath that she hated him, she owed him her life. It was a new one – a flawed one, no more flawed than her old life, but still a new life. She would have to change how she lives, eats, exists, and it’s scary – it’s so scary! But she was alive. She was still walking around, she could still work toward goals she’d set for herself, and she could find a place for herself in this world instead of bleeding out in an alley, still feeling lost and alone. 

Would she have walked away from someone in need how she expected Niall to? If she’d stumbled upon the same scene, would she have been able to ignore it? She couldn’t even ignore a fucking kitten meowing! So it was hard – her feelings were difficult to work through and that was only worsened by her not seeing him. Playing house at Harry’s flat and ignoring what happened. 

“Where’d you go?” Harry pulls her out of her reverie, and she realizes she’d been digging her fingers into the croissant she was holding, her eyes dazed. He drags his fingers along her skin again, tenderly, gently, “Hmm? Where’d my girl go?” 

Y/N feels warm and bubbly and allows herself to revel in the giddiness that comes with Harry treating her like something special. If there was one single benefit from this whole mess, it would be Harry – experiencing this homely side of him. Whether it be the connection through their blood, or their time spent together, she felt at complete, and total ease in Harry’s presence. If she was starting to spiral, he pulled her out of it just as quickly. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, swallowing, ripping a piece of the flaky pastry and laying it on her tongue – it tasted like nothing, chalky and bland, “I. . .need to figure things out with Niall soon. I can’t keep burdening you.” 

“You’re no burden,” he answered without a second thought, “Not even a little bit, but I understand needing to sort things out for your peace of mind.” He reaches forward, thumbing at the apple of her cheek, and pinching playfully, “But you don’t need to leave just for that, hm? You’re no burden to me.” 

Y/N rests on the palm of his cheek, sighing, and the smell of all the other humans in the place pales in comparison to Harry, “Mm,” she nuzzles – it’s embarrassing, how easy she is for him, but he doesn’t tease her like he probably could, “I just. . .I think, how I’m seeing it, is I would have done the same.” She explained, “If I’d seen someone, I would have done the same, you know?” Her gaze flickered toward him, “Would you?” 

“I have,” he shrugged, “You know, it’s something that you never really know what you’ll do at the moment but when it’s presented in front of you – that’s when you’ll know. You act off instinct,” he squeezes her shoulder, slipping down to her bicep, “Just how you ran to go save Leaf with no concern of the sun. This isn’t me trying to sway you either,” he shook his head, “If you decided you fucking hated him and never wanted to see him again, I would endorse it. If you decide that you’ll forgive him, then I’ll accept that – whatever you want to do.” 

Y/N nodded, “Yeah,” she ripped another piece of croissant, “Yeah, okay.”

                                                                   .                          .                         .

Despite coming to terms with what she wanted to do, it still took her a week to gain the courage to see him. Harry doesn’t push the issue, merely enjoys his time with her and Leaf until she tells him she is ready. Honestly, there were a couple of times when Y/N wondered if she should just start ignoring it again and live life peacefully with Harry, or as peacefully as she could. But still, it weighed on her, like a Niall-shaped force that stretched himself over her and smothered her in her sleep. She had dreams of confronting him, some heartwarming and with a good outcome, some horrible that left her with tears bearding her eyes. 

She needed to do it. If she did, then she could better focus on whatever the hell is going on between her and Harry. And being a vampire. . .big, important things like that. 

So on a Tuesday, Y/N wakes up from a fitful rest and leaves Harry’s bed to find him in the kitchen. Leaf is cradled to his chest while he speaks to someone on the phone – a designer, she thinks, they’re talking about a pattern of something, but Y/N isn’t sure. She doesn’t get to know either because as soon as Harry sees that she’s awake, he smiles, then hovers his finger over the end button, “Mael, I’ll call you a little later, yeah?” He hangs up without a second thought, and Y/N’s eyes go wide. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she frowned and Harry waved his hand. 

“Nah, s’boring shit anyway. Chevron is a thing of the fucking past and it’s not coming back any time soon on my watch.” He turned on his stool, stretching out his legs and waving her forward, and when she got close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, until she was standing between his thighs, “You take forever to get up. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were still a human.” 

She laid her hands on his thighs, “I need to do it today,” she told him, and she didn’t have to be descriptive for Harry to know what she was talking about, “It’s gotta be today or I won’t.” 

His gaze softened, the pale skin of his face smoothed over into something contemplative and understanding. There’s a soft sound that pulls from his throat, and his legs squeeze around her as he nods, “Okay,” he answered easily, “Do you want to ambush him or should I give him a heads up?” 

“Will he run away if he knows I’m coming?” 

Harry pursed his lips in thought, “You know, Niall isn’t one to run away,” he started, “But he also isn’t one to admit when he’s in the wrong either, and he’s done that, so I reckon some of the things I knew about him fundamentally might be wrong. He may flee from guilt alone or he’ll respect you enough to want to hear what you have to say.” 

“Then you can let him know,” she took Leaf, scratching the soft, short furs beneath her chin, “If this is a friendship worth salvaging, then he’ll wait for me.” 

The drive, which typically felt like an hour-long adventure out to the secluded space in which Mitch’s house resided, felt far quicker than it ever had before. Y/N thought it was because this time, she actually wanted it to go by slowly so that she had the chance to collect her thoughts and plan out exactly what she was going to say, and how she was going to say it. She needed the full forty-ish minutes (accounting rush hour) to develop her script, but Harry must be pressing the gas pedal right down to the floorboards because they zip through the roads in record time. 

There’s a hazy, orange glow casting over the trees while the sun sank beyond the horizon, the other half of the sky blotching the inky black sky of a winter night. She wondered if there would be stars later on – there hadn’t been for the last couple of days because of clouds heavy with snow, that’s now freckling the earth and freezing up the soil. Y/N missed them – she feels like she hasn’t seen them in a while. 

They roll up in front of the house, and Y/N thinks all of three seconds go by before a pouting Naomi rips the passenger door open, “Shame on Harry for keeping you all to himself,” she whined, and she unbuckling Y/N before Y/N could even gather her bearings, pulling her out of the car and into her arms. Naomi looks a bit frail but she’s got the strength of someone who’s prepared for war, and she gives Y/N a bone-crushing hug. “I’ve missed you!” 

Y/N laughed lightly, squeezing her arms out from where they’d been trapped between their bodies so she could reciprocate the show of affection, “I missed you too,” she replied. 

“Oi,” he grumbled, “I wasn’t keeping her to myself, I gave her a haven in a rough time.” 

“You never let any of us come over besides Christopher!” 

Harry crossed his arms, after pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, “Why would I want you heathens in my flat? The lot of you would trash the place or steal from me.” 

“You’re just no good at sharing, you –” 

Their voices fade into the background as Y/N leaves them to bicker, a tiny quirk at her lips like the muscles in her face want to smile but are thinking better than to. It was nice, sort of, to be back; to smell all the familiar scents, like she was returning home. This felt more like home than her flat did now, just from the sheer amount of time she’d spent here. She walked the familiar map from the front door, to her room, and nearly made a pitstop to give herself more time but muscled through the desire to. Y/N took the four more steps she needed to before knocking on Niall’s door – she could smell him in there. 

“Come in.” His voice sounds stiff, and when she opens the door, the position he’s sitting in matches it. He must have heard her coming because he isn’t in the lax state he normally is – his legs are off the end of the mattress, feet firm on the floor. He sits straight, his face serious, stern. She’s so used to the nonchalant way he goes about that this is the most uncanny and makes her feel like an agent sent to question him, or a judge to sentence him. Y/N hated that, she doesn’t want it to be like that – she wants it to be normal between them. Or, normal-ish, at least. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her cat paw chair sitting at the foot of his bed. Niall followed her gaze and answered before she could even question it, “I – um – promise I wasn’t stealing that,” he replied, “I missed. . .you know – having it in here made me feel a little better. Which I know, I don’t deserve to feel good about what happened.” 

Y/N ignored him, closed the door behind her, and then plopped down in the chair, resting her back on the pink, plush toe beans, “Get on the floor,” she ordered, patting the empty spot in front of her with her foot, “Please stop sitting so straight, it’s freaking me out.” 

Niall is quick to crawl down on the floor in front of her, he relaxes his shoulders so they slump just a little, and he kicks his left leg out how he usually did when he was sprawled out on the floor of her room and they were talking. It brings some normalcy to the situation that Y/N desperately needs. She bites the inside of her bottom lip for a second before giving an unneeded clear of her throat (it was just a habit at this point, she wondered how long it would take for it to break). 

“I’m just gonna come right out with it because I don’t want to beat around the bush, and if I do, I’ll just talk myself in circles until I don’t make any sense,” she started, “At first I was so mad at you I could have slapped you and spit on you and called you names. I was pretty sure that I never wanted to see you again and that I would be fine if you were completely wiped from my life,” he grimaces at the description but does nothing to refute it, “But you couldn’t have been wiped from my life, if I wasn’t living to begin with, which – I know, it gets a little confusing and convoluted. This life I have now is. . .odd, and different, and I’m not human anymore, and maybe by all technicalities I’m not alive, but I feel like I am.” She runs her thumbnail along the inside of her other palm, following the lines in them she’s had since birth, “I feel the world around me, and I can love, and I can talk, and laugh, and work, and cry. I can do all the things that I did before and then some, so even if it is different. . .I’m still alive. And I wouldn’t be had it not been for you.” 

Niall is following along, motionless, soaking in every word, “I’m more upset that you kept it from me. It would have just been nice to know, right? What exactly had happened that night, it’d been plaguing my mind and you would ask every so often, and now I’m realizing it was less from a place of care and more you covering your tail.” She shrugged her shoulders when Niall’s face scrunched with shame, “But I can’t sit here and act like I would do something different. I don’t know what I would do, in a situation like that – I think, if I came across someone in my position, then I would have changed them too. I don’t really know how at this point, but I would have tried to figure it out. And I would have been scared, afterward, I don’t know if I would have told anyone either. But I thought we were close enough. . .at least a month in, I feel like you could have told me,” she sighed, “That’s what makes me angriest. I thought we were friends but you were just being nice to me because you felt bad.” 

“That’s not true.” It was the first time he’d uttered a word since she began, “You – maybe at the start, I was a little more protective of you because I felt bad, but the rest of it – I truly felt friendship with you. Not all of it was a lie,” he shook his head, “I wanted to tell you, I did, but it never seemed like an opportune time to. And the one chance I did get, I chickened out. But I get it, if – if you need to be angry, be angry, I honestly wish you would just slap me or hit me or something, so it felt like I was getting punished for it.” 

“I wanted to, believe me, but Harry was pretty convinced that you were punishing yourself enough for it. Listen, what I’m saying is,” she crawled off the cat paw, and took his hands in her own – they were smooth and ice cold – he probably hasn’t been eating well, “My feelings are very conflicted and confusing, and I don’t know if I forgive you entirely, but forgiveness isn’t out of the question. Do you get what I mean?” Niall hums his assent, “I know things can’t go back to the way they were entirely, but I’d like it if we could get somewhere close to it. And – and if you think about it, we’ll probably be around for decades, won’t we? I’m bound to get over it eventually.” 

Niall and Y/N don’t really hug – Naomi is the touchy-feely type, and Y/N can be when she wants to be, but Niall is much more reserved with his affections. So that’s why she is tentative and a little hesitant in embracing him, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck, but she’s pleasantly surprised to feel him hug her back tightly, “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and his words vibrated through her throat, “I’m so sorry, thank you for even coming back to talk to me. I thought surely with Harry at your side, you would’ve hated my guts.” 

“You would be surprised by this, but Harry went to bat for you pretty hard,” she peeled back just a little bit, “I mean, he didn’t try to change my opinion but his of you never faltered.” 

Niall frowned, “Ugh, it’s so hard to keep up with hating him sometimes,” Y/N laughed, “Seriously, he’ll be the worst prick alive and then he does something unreasonably kind and it’s like. . .either be a dick, or be nice, I hate the mix-up.” He gently let his arms slip away from her but he remained close, “Speaking of, I’ve been eavesdropping on him and Mitch – they never hear me coming so I can always get away with knowing shite I shouldn’t – has he told you yet? About the whole blood thing?” 

Y/N shook her head, and part of her was worried that Niall would save it for Harry to tell her, but she forgot that Niall is Niall, and through and through, he loved causing trouble for Harry at any given notice, “After Mitch’s initial displeasure that he’d been keeping it from him, he said there was something called ‘fated pairs’ or something like that. Your bodies call out to each other on a molecular level, something that was – predetermined the day you were both born. There was a lot of vampiric folklore nonsense that he spouted off, but he seemed pretty convinced. I don’t know why it affects you both in the way that it would make you horny, but, yeah. He said that it would’ve been the same if you were human – even if you were both humans, actually. That it was like a soul bond.” 

It was a lot to take in; Y/N is relieved of one stress and then immediately another is placed on top of her. Was it stress though? She doesn’t feel stressed at the thought of them being bonded together by their souls – she doesn’t mind that – but she is stressed that maybe he minded that. Because as far as Harry was concerned, there was no rhyme or reason for their reaction to one another’s blood. Y/N hadn’t even known he’d spoken to Mitch about it, and so to find out he has and he didn’t even express the findings to her. . .worries her, a bit. Did he not like it? Was the thought of being tied to her horrible? But if it was then he wouldn’t have been so doting and cuddly these last few weeks, right? 

“You look stressed,” he noted, “I would be too if I was bonded to that fucker, so I understand.” 

Breathlessly, she laughs again, “He’s not so bad.” 

                                                                .                           .                        . 

Harry gets pretty clingy when Y/N goes back. 

Though he’d promised that she wasn’t a bother, she still felt guilty to be inhabiting his home when he was at work. She’d been hearing him postpone different trips too, a couple of days in Italy, a fashion show in France – things that he always went to before, and she had a feeling it was because he didn’t want to leave her alone. It was sweet, but it made her feel guilty, so she decided it was okay to go back for a little while and reacclimate to the house. 

It wasn’t so bad – going from Harry’s modern, high-tech flat to Mitch’s Victorian-style mansion was different but it isn’t horrible. Y/N liked being surrounded by people when Harry was at work or attending some smarmy event, instead of being alone. The only downside was there was a little Leaf-shaped hollow in her heart, but Harry describes shared custody and drops her off with Y/N when he knows he’s going to be out all day or if he does have to leave for one of those week-long trips. 

The others act like she never left. She goes to the movie nights and nobody mentions what happened. Christopher gives her a big, long hug when he sees that she’s returned, then promptly warms her two mugs of “the sweetest blood” as a welcome home present. Naomi comes to inhabit Y/N’s bed and talks about pop culture and how Samuel is fucking someone who isn’t Theodore so that had been a lot of drama while she was away. Delphine starts to visit her room for Leaf – apparently, she’d grown up with a lot of barn cats, so she was very fond of them, and they find their shared love for animals as a link to start speaking more comfortably with each other. And wherever Delphine was, Saskia was close behind. Her past with cats was checkered because she had an allergy to them before, but being a vampire meant eradicating all allergies, so she hesitantly gave Leaf a pet or two. 

Leaf, all tiny and soft, loves the extra attention. 

Niall still comes to her room but not without being invited first. Y/N thinks eventually this will change, but it seems like he doesn’t want to smother her with his presence, though Y/N wouldn’t find it smothering at all. He’s still hesitant, and she gets it – Y/N liked that he respected her enough to let her decide if she was in the right headspace to see him that day or not. 

The only person who takes it hard and acts like it is the worst thing in the world is Harry. He never goes three days without coming to see her, and when he isn’t with her, he’s messaging her and calling her, asking if she wants to FaceTime in between flights. When he does come, he poses a strict, “Nobody bothers us” rule where he threatens to move her dresser in front of the door to ward off “unwanted” intruders (though they could all probably move the dresser anyway, they’re very strong). He crawled into her bed and pulled her into his body, dragging the blankets over them, “You smell too much like the others,” he’d grumble, resting his chin on the top of her head, “Hate it.” 

“You’re silly,” she’d respond but soaked in the snuggling happily — it used to be something they merely indulged in while she was asleep; before, Harry would only ever kind of curl around her or pet her or hold her when she was all blood drunk and full, seconds from slumber. Now he’s much more open and willing to do it whenever – when they were watching the telly, when they were on the ground and Y/N was painting her nails (“I should sit behind you, yeah? You can sit between my legs, and when you’re done with one hand, I’ll blow on your fingers to dry them,”) if they were outside on the deck, practicing whatever Harry had come up with for the day.He crowds her space like he was made to. If Harry was there, they’re glued at the hip, and that was just normal now. 

Y/N wondered if he would ever bring up the whole bond thing, but he seemed content not to. Still, it didn’t seem to deter him from letting her snack on his blood, which she sure only furthers the whole thing. So maybe he wasn’t concerned with it – maybe he was just seeing where it went. Y/N isn’t sure, but she’s usually good at ignoring things. If the other party didn’t want to talk about it then she wouldn’t either, it was never in her nature to press for answers. 

. . .when she was a human, at least. Being a vampire hasn’t changed her at a fundamental level, she doesn’t believe, but it has given her a new outlook on life, and a different perspective on some things. It was better to ask and get an answer that she didn’t want rather than continue not knowing something for sure. If she’d lived by that rule in the past it would have probably saved her a lot of trouble. 

So Y/N asks him outright, Leaf curled in her lap in a tiny furry heap, and Harry with his arms curled around Y/N’s body protectively. Nobody else was in the den – they were either in their rooms or out and about (with a strict curfew now, because of the whole thing between her and Niall – Mitch blamed himself for giving them a little too much freedom being newly presented). Harry suggested they utilize the tv then, instead of trying to watch it on her laptop screen. Harry tells her they should be at his flat, but since he was supposed to go three hours away for a photoshoot tomorrow, he didn’t want to leave her alone (it turns out he’d been postponing more than she had initially thought so now he was playing catch up – something about Spring deadlines and all of that). 

The screen clears as the next episode of the show they’re watching loads up, and maybe it isn’t the best timing or the best place to do it, but she has to ask before she loses her nerve. 

“Are we a. . .fated pair? Is that what it’s called?” 

She feels Harry stiffen behind her, his hold around her arms tightening only slightly as he processes what she’d just inquired. There aren’t a lot of things that could stun Harry, as long as he’s been around he normally has a response to anything and everything within a couple of seconds – but he sits with this for a little longer. His fingers, where they’d rested on her waist, began to play with the fabric of her shirt, plucking at the hem and fiddling with the stitches. The tension in the air is palpable, but it isn’t a horrible tension. Not something she wanted to run away from, at least. 

“Niall,” Harry finally muttered, like he’d been spending half of the time he was silent, trying to figure out how Y/N would have heard that, “That fucker is too good at masking his presence.” 

“Harry –” 

“I know,” he exhales, and Y/N thinks it’s funny that he does things like this not because he’s releasing a breath, but to express how he’s feeling. He nudges the side of her head with his own and dips his nose into the curve of her throat, his favorite spot, “With you at my flat, and with how you’d been eating from me still, the – how I felt for you was becoming concerning and a little obsessive. Not in like an obsessive “I’m going to kill her so nobody else can have her” way, more like a “I want to be near her and I’m forgoing responsibilities to spend time with her” kind of way. I don’t do that, for people, I’m not. . .so giving with my time, which makes me sound like a dick, but it’s the truth. I have my time and they have theirs, even if it’s someone that I’m interested in,” he slides his fingers beneath her shirt’s fabric, his nails tracing circles into her skin, “But with you, I just. . .wanted to be around you. To be with you makes me feel calm; it soothes me like putting ice on a sprain. And for you to drink from my vein and our bodies react so intensely to it. . .well, it had to be something.” 

“I was glad to ignore it and just continue enjoying myself with you, but I was getting curious. And I knew you and Niall would make up soon, and you’re so concerned about being a burden all of the time, I knew you wouldn’t take me up on my offer to stay with me. This meant I was going to be coming around her, and being way more possessive and clingy than I ever have before and Mitch always knows what’s going on in the house. He would ask me about it eventually, so I just beat him to it.” He lifted his head, and his words were less muffled when he coaxes her to lean back against his chest more, “He went into the most intricate, convoluted discussion about molecules, and vampiric folklore, and I’ll be honest most of it went right over my fucking head, except for him saying that we were bound together by our souls. That whether we had met like this, or centuries ago in my village, while I was running from war, or had I just been some random UNI student sitting beside you in class – we would always have this kind of connection. It’s rare,” he squeezes her hips, “It’s a rare thing, a really rare thing, and it used to happen more often back in the 1600s but that doesn’t mean it never happens now.” 

Y/N cranes her neck to face him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her brows pinched toward the center, and Harry reached out, using his thumb to press at the crinkle in her skin and smooth it out. 

“I wanted to, but – I don’t know. I kind of wanted you to conclude for yourself, if you liked me or not. I didn’t want it to feel forced because you knew about this. Other than my blood making you a filthy, horny little thing, I don’t know exactly what your feelings are for me. And I know – you told me you feel whole after you drink from me, but again, outside of that – outside of the blood, I don’t know how you feel.” 

Y/N thinks, that if she’d eaten recently, blood would be roaring in her ears and her heart would be thudding something fierce in her chest. It was one thing to have Niall tell her on a whim, it was another thing for Harry to admit it to her, all shy, avoiding her gaze and pressing tight and close to her body. It was another thing to hear him feel insecure about not knowing how she felt about him.

Because for Y/N, she’d thought she’d been incredibly obvious. She wanted to be around him always, she recognized his scent out of everyone anywhere, she felt safe when his hands were on her in some way, or even when he was just nearby. Even when he was short with her, or grumpy, Y/N had felt endlessly at ease. After what happened at the club, he was the only person she wanted to be around. The way her heart lights up when he calls her sweet names, or when she sees him for the first time in a while. How her whole mind swam at the prospect of him rather hurting his hands than letting anyone else see her vulnerable when she’d been in the sun. No matter when he lost his patience, or when he seemed upset, or even when he swore up and down that he shouldn’t be a mentor  – he was supportive, tender, and made her head feel melty and her insides gossamer soft. 

“I have plenty of reason to like you, outside of some bond,” she finally replied, wiggling in his arms to face him again – Leaf got up, stumbled out of her lap, then stretched with a silent yawn, “And it wasn’t just after eating. Just being with you makes me feel. . .complete, just as I said before. I thought it was just the blood, but when you leave for work and we’re separated, there’s a – it’s noticeable, the gape I feel in your absence.” Y/N curled her fingers up in his shirt, “I mean, how I feel for you, surpasses how I ever felt for Daniel, my old friend. As dramatic as it is, I’d thought I would never be able to love again –” 

“Oh, you humans and your theatrics,” he murmured with a laugh and Y/N smiled shyly, looking away. 

“-- but the way I’ve felt about you lately, I just don’t think whatever puppy love crush I had on him scratches the surface. Sorry, I wasn’t clear about it. I’d been so focused on trying to figure out my place in this world again and how to live life like this, that I hadn’t given myself a chance to sit and sort through my emotions. But they’re there – they’re real and scary.” 

Harry kisses her – she wasn’t expecting it, but she’d completely turned around in his lap by then so at least the angle wasn’t horrible. His lips are soft, and without the preface of something lewd, it is saccharine and chaste. Y/N shivered, her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into him, practically molding herself into the shape of his body. It was good – Harry’s been treating her delicately for a while now, but this was different. Like he was kissing something important to him. Something that he wanted to handle with softhearted gloves. 

When they part, Harry kisses the corner of her mouth, then her right cheek, her temple, over her forehead, and down the other side of her face. They’re feather-light and ticklish but his arms cage her in so she couldn’t wiggle away, helpless but to giggle. Once he finishes, he hums low and their eyes meet. 

“I’ll be keeping you, so get used to this.” He admitted, and if he’d eaten recently, then his cheeks would have flushed pink the way they do anytime he’s sentimental.

Y/N nodded and hid herself in his chest. 

She didn’t mind that at all. 

                                                              .                        .                       .

Harry couldn’t wait to see her. 

He used to take great pleasure in his week to two-week-long trips out of the country for work, whether he was going to Dubai, Milan, Paris, or other places like it. Harry would gorge on international feeders and sex and all the adoration from people who question his otherworldly beauty and get lost in his sharp gaze. It was nice to be sought after, admired, to get his fill of all the blood he wanted. He thought it was a fair trade, for all those years ago, when he’d been scrawny and worthless to everyone. 

However, now? He just can’t wait to get home. Without the sex and the gorging, there actually wasn’t a whole lot to do in any of those spots that he hadn’t done thousands and thousands of times before. It was work, strictly work, and there was no sort of pleasure, apart from the gratification of seeing one of his looks trek down the runway. Besides that, there was only one person he wanted to sleep with now, one person he wanted to be adored by, and only one person he wished to get lost in his gaze. 

And she was thousands of kilometers away from him, probably coding some program that made no sense to his brain, in his sweatshirt that he made her promise to wear and those horrific (and endearingly cute) slippers shaped like cats that she picked up from the store in honor of Leaf (who liked to chew on them when Y/N wiggled her toes). Even on the plane ride back home, he wondered how he could make it quicker – if there was a way to travel even faster than a plane. He supposes he could run, his legs are quite fast, but if someone spotted him going a little too fast to be human, then that would be a whole other list of shit to deal with instead of just tucking himself into Y/N’s side. 

So as soon as he was finished up, the models had gone home, he’d given his statement for editorials, and he’d shared one glass of wine with a designer he really couldn’t be arsed to learn the name of (he’d drank with types like Chanel and Dior in the past, so the glitz and glamor of it now are easily lost on him) – Harry was on a plane and headed home. He used the in-flight wifi to watch a movie Y/N had suggested to him, but he was barely paying attention. How could he, when he was so excited to get home to her? 

It was crazy to think this was where their relationship had ended up. She used to be nothing but an obnoxious little thorn in his side and now all he wants to do is smother her with affection and give her his blood. Y/N was so important to him, it made his heart feel heavy and full for the first time in. . .well, he isn’t sure it’s ever felt this heavy and full before. The weight in his chest is unfamiliar, and at first, it had been unwelcomed, but he likes it now. It’s as if she’d curled her body around it and took residence there. She’s always with him, in that sense of it. 

The others had gotten used to it far quicker than he’d imagined they would. He expected more teasing as well, but they all like Y/N a lot, so he guesses to tease him is to tease her indirectly and they don’t want to. The most he gets is scolded that he isn’t good at sharing, and why should he be? Harry feels like he’d spent centuries waiting for her, now that he has her – doesn’t he deserve to be a little selfish? Especially after a week of not seeing her, Harry just wants her all to himself. That’s why he suggested that she come to his flat the first day he’s back, so they could be alone. 

So he’s more than happy, after the flight, after getting his shit from baggage claim and finding his car in the mass of other vehicles parked for overnight trips, and the 30-minute long drive from the airport to his flat – to see her just as he’d envisioned her. Only with a few additions; she wore the sweatshirt, and she had on these little shorts that were filthy (but she swore up and down she wore them because they were comfortable and not to taunt him with how little it would take before her bum was out), but tucked under her thigh was Leaf’s feather toy. Whenever Y/N was working, Leaf could go from sleeping peacefully at her side to the zoomies in all of three seconds, so this was her way of keeping her preoccupied – the stick was placed just precisely so that the feather and the string hung off the side of the couch for Leaf to jump and pull at. Y/N has pretty decent thigh muscles so she’s able to keep it in place without letting it move around too much. 

She has those horrible little booties on,  but she’s wrapped up in the throw blanket that Harry usually has wrapped around him – not for warmth, of course, but the way soft fibers feel against his skin is nice. He knows Y/N is not using it for that purpose because it touches nowhere that her skin shows, besides a little bit of her face. Y/N has it so close to her so that she can smell him, and Harry is just. . .so endeared by that he could scream. 

When he walked through the door, Y/N turned to face him with a big grin. She slid her computer out of her lap, and Leaf’s toy fell to the ground once she stood, carefully stepping over the kitten, and getting up on the other sofa so she could climb over it. She gets to him quicker this way, and her arms slink around his neck, and she holds him close, “Finally,” she murmured, “A week is too long.”

“You could always come with me.” He smiled into her hair, letting his eyes close – it was good to have her in his arms again, “I don’t think they’d mind a puppy backstage.” 

Y/N peeled away from him, flicking him in the center of his chest, “Shut up,” she threw at him, but it held no real spite, and her eyes were dripping in mirth, “Should I dress myself then show up?” 

“Oh, baby, please don’t – let me be the one to dress you.” 

It was nice, that back and forth, and had Harry not felt so keyed up then he probably would have started a load of laundry, showered, gotten in more comfortable clothes and they could have just hung out for the night. 

But Harry was keyed up – a week away from Y/N meant a week away from not only her beautiful brain, but her beautiful body as well, and he was missing the sounds she’d make when his fingers slid against her. How easy she was to rile up, the way she tasted on his tongue, how dripping wet she got from even just a little bit of Harry’s blood in her. It’s precisely why he’d eaten so much before leaving, and he’s sure she could tell he’d just eaten recently, with how warm his cheeks felt they must be rosy. And that flush on his pale skin is clear as day, especially how it slithers down his throat, and if he’s really worked up, it might splotch his chest. 

“When’s the last time you ate, Sweetheart?” He inquired – the icy little tip of her nose was enough to tell him it had been a while.

“Mm, I had some earlier, when I woke up,” she explained, “But I got distracted with work, so I haven’t since.” 

Normally, Harry might chide her for that, but he’s all too excited to offer his throat, “I have a treat for you then,” he placed his hands on her hips, walking her backward, “Get on the couch.” 

Where Y/N used to start on the side of his body and eventually make her way into his lap while she ate, she just crawled into his lap now to cut out the unnecessary jostling around. The weight of her in his lap is familiar, nice, and something he didn’t realize that he missed until he was away from her. She stretches her thighs on either side of him and scoots in very close; Harry is already half hard, and he isn’t sure if he’d been like this since he saw her, or on the plane when he’d even just thought about her. Whatever it was and whenever it was, he was definitely already getting hard just from the anticipation of her teeth in his neck. It felt like young adulthood all over again, when it wasn’t “mind over matter”, and Harry couldn’t help but get hard in three seconds from one thought. 

“I missed you,” she tells him, pressing her chest up against his, her nipples were already hard and Harry felt dizzy with the want burgeoning up from deep in his belly, “So much, and you were only gone for a week. It’s a little embarrassing.” 

“I miss you when I leave you alone for an hour,” he slides his hand on the nape of her neck and brings her closer, “Isn’t embarrassing. I’m flattered that you like me enough to miss me, even. Now take what you need, baby, I ate enough to fill you up.” 

The slide of her teeth into his skin never gets old, especially when it’s his throat. There’s a bite of pain, immediately soothed over by the euphoric feeling of it not only being a vampire bite, but a Y/N bite. The way she goes about it is still so tentative to start, and unsure, like she’s worried about hurting him – but the moment she tastes his blood on her tongue, all that vanishes. She moaned against his neck like she’d been starving for months and he’d finally come to save her, her fingers digging into his body wherever her hands lie. Harry can feel her inhibitions leave her, the way she gulps, drinks him down, and takes her fill how he wants her to. 

It’s always after a minute that Y/N’s body starts to move out of tandem with her. She hates that she starts rutting against him like an overexcited puppy, but that doesn’t stop the way her hips twitch and push closer to him while she’s eating. Harry’s hand slid from her neck, to meet his other at her hips, holding her still as she rolled her hips into him greedily. “Mm, it feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Especially after not having it for so long,” Harry shuddered, closing his eyes as he melted into the feeling, “I bet your pussy is already soaked.” 

Y/N whines, and he can only imagine how debauched the scene must look from an outsider's perspective. Her hands slip under his shirt, fingers tracing along his stomach and when the muscles in his abdomen tense up, his cock throbs to match. Harry’s fully hard now, and he thinks he’s already leaking, dripping into the inside of his trousers because he was always one to forgo underwear when it caused lines in his pants. Y/N lines herself up with him, tucking him into the folds because her pussy just swallows these shorts up, and rolls into him, “That’s it,” he whispered, “Such a good girl, you can have anything you want.”

The times she bites his throat aren’t always for pleasure. Harry still tries to prepare her for the first time she will meet with a feeder, so each time Y/N eats she gets better and better. She’s learned to stop when she’s full and to not overstuff herself just because it tastes good. She also has learned to read the queues of the other person, that she might have had too much – it’d be different for a human, but she can tell by the way Harry might start feeling even a degree less warm than he began as. 

He isn’t sure what coaxes her to stop today. She pulled away from his neck and lulled her tongue over the little puncture wounds in his skin, before moving so she faced him. Y/N made a pretty sight with her hazy eyes and her mouth stained red. Before he could spend too much time admiring her, she fixes her lips against his, slips her tongue into his mouth, and oh fuck. 

She’d kept some of his blood in her mouth, so it filled his own when she kissed him, and his eyes all but rolled up to the back of his head. Who had taught her something so filthy? His cock throbs so hard in his pants and he’s leaking so much precum he’s wondered if he’s cum already – he’s sure it’s sticky and webby beyond belief around the head of his cock, and Y/N isn’t helping the matter, she’s just making it worse. 

Harry takes her by the chin, parts her lips, and makes sure they stay open. Without having to instruct her, she presses the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip, waiting patiently – normally Harry places a couple of fingers on her tongue for her to suck and bite at, so he presumes that’s what she was expecting. But Harry couldn’t help himself, and if Y/N was going to be filthy, then he was going to be filthier, so he encased her tongue and her bottom lip with his mouth and suckled at it. When Y/N mewls, he takes more of her in, sucking the taste of him off her tongue while he pries at her little shorts. He was in no mood for her to get off his lap to wiggle them down, so he tore them, shredding the fabric. 

She makes a startled sound, mixed with a moan when Harry slips his tongue back into her mouth to kiss her properly again. Harry’s head spins when he backs away from her – they could kiss forever without needing to take a single breath (or they would be able to one day when Y/N really didn’t need to use her lungs anymore), but Harry wanted to look at her. Want to see her with lips bitten red and swollen, filled with blood that Harry kind of wants to knick with his tooth and drink from. He presses at her chest just a little so she stretches back, and he gathers the fabric at the bottom of her shirt in between his thumb and index finger, pressing it up her quivering belly. 

Her pussy is puffy and swollen and soaking wet, he would’ve thought she’d been touching herself before he’d come home. He can’t tell if he wants to bury his face or his cock into it more, but another hard throb suggests he’d better do the latter or he would cum hard in his pants. He uses his fingers to spread her open, showing off the engorged bud of her clit, chuckling brightly when it pulses beneath his attention. Harry is unsure what drives him to sink his fingers lower, get three of them wet then return to her clit to slap it, but he does, and the payoff is Y/N trying to close her legs around him with the most wanton of sounds. He does it again, a little harder, and Y/N’s hand comes to grab his wrist, “I’ll cum,” she whines like that was supposed to deter him, “I’ll cum if you keep going.” 

“Isn’t that the point?” He murmured, sliding his fingers through her juices and tucking them up inside of her, petting at her g-spot for a second before slipping them back out and licking her off his hand, “Want you to cum.” 

“I wanna cum with you in me,” she sounded like she was pleading with him, and Harry had always been a sucker for pretty girls begging, “Please?” 

Harry’s quick to work the button of his trousers open, pulling the zip and removing his cock from the oppressive confines of it. He’s harder than he’d even thought, but he was right to assume that he’d leaked so much precum it looked like he’d cum. The clear fluid oozes from the tip in a long, sticky line, filling up the dip of his hip bone. Y/N ogles him with awe-filled eyes, “Whoa,” she swallowed thickly, her fingers tracing up the underside from his balls to the tip, in a move he doesn’t think she means to be as teasing as it is, “You’re really hard.” 

“I know,” he bites down hard on his bottom lip as he throbs again, under her attention, in the coolness of the air. 

“Like, harder than I’ve ever seen you,” she states, and now her palm slides against his shaft, and she squeezes experimentally, looking between him and his cock, “And you’re so wet –” 

“Y/N,” he just barely holds back from whimpering, “No teasing, Darling, I need to fuck this into you or I’ll cum all over myself. You don’t want to waste it, do you?” He inquired, and Y/N shook her head, scooting closer, “Yeah, let me fill you up, Baby, want to watch it fucking drip out of you when we’re done.” 

She visibly shivered again, and Harry helped her lift and slide his cock inside of her. Y/N moans, her face pinches up from the pressure of him against her walls but she slips right on down like he belonged inside of her. Harry thinks Y/N likes the stretch – the burn of it, as long as it doesn’t border on too painful. She bottoms out, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she smushes their lips together. The kiss is brief before she nips at his plush bottom lip and sucks it into her mouth. While she does that, Harry presses his upper lip just above hers, his fingers digging into her thighs as she squeezes around him, accommodating his size. Her walls were velvety soft and smooth as they contract around him, the ridges and bumps something he’s set on memorizing. 

Her ministrations with her mouth go to his chin, she kisses then bites her way down his jaw, to his ear, laving her tongue over the little wounds that were no doubt closing and healing over by now. Harry offers her his hand when he realizes that she must want to bite something, and he’d made the right assumption when she fits his knuckles between her teeth and chews on him. Harry laughs as she starts to lift her hips, then drops back down onto him, “You’re so fucking cute,” he chuckled, “Should we get you a chew toy? A little bone for a puppy like you?” 

“Shut up,” her words are muffled around his fingers in her mouth but she’s riding him well. It feels so fucking good, Harry is holding onto every last bit of strength not to cum before her. A damning feat to accomplish when she finds the angle that hits that bundle of nerves inside of her just right – she clamps down on him, her eyes bead with tears as she fucks down onto him, and nibbles at his fingers. 

“Do you feel good, Baby? S’my cock stretching you out nice?” Y/N nodded, whining, “You can cum for me. Don’t you want that? Cum on me and I’ll fill this little pussy right up.” 

Harry shoves the sweatshirt up so it rests just above her bare tits, or at least enough that he can visualize them and then get one into his mouth. Her nipples are still hard, so pert and sensitive for him when he pulls them between his teeth and lulls his tongue in big circles around them. Harry alternates between sucking hard and flicking his tongue, and Y/N goes from chewing on his knuckles to holding them uselessly in her mouth and moaning around them. Harry feels her start to cum before she can even tell him through these breathy little whines. 

He isn’t ashamed to say he starts cumming before she could finish – he makes sure to work her through it still, fucking through the point of overstimulation, his thumb lulling on her clit when he raised his feet onto the coffee table and started to fuck into her. Harry fills her up, his orgasm splinters through him so intensely that he thinks his vision whites out for a second. He’s throbbing so hard inside of her, he knows she could feel it each time, and in response to each one, she mewls and sighs as she finally starts to come down from her own high. 

Harry untucks his face from her chest just as Y/N drops his fingers from her mouth. He’s still tucked inside of her but his cum slicks out from around where his cock is plugging her up, too much of it to even keep inside. The feeling is a little atrocious as it cools, but the thought of what it must look like almost has him stiffening up again. 

Y/N all but collapsed onto him, and Harry oofs! dramatically, before wrapping her up in his arms. Her arms moved to hug around his waist this time, and she murmured something on his shoulder that he couldn’t quite make out. She turns her head, so her cheek rests against his shoulder instead, “I said I really missed you,” she repeated, “I’m happy you’re back home.” 

A lot of responses run through Harry’s head, including, but not limited to I’m happy you’re here with me, I’m happy you’re in my life, I’m happy my cum is dripping out of you right now, I’m happy that our fates matched in this way, I’m happy that we have a kitten name Leaf, I’m happy our souls are bound together. 

Harry doesn’t though. He thinks them, and he smiles to himself when he replies with something that he’s pretty sure covers all of that. 

“I’m happy too.” 

#WOOOOOOO #OKAY YAY #SORRY IT TOOK LONG #I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT! #I REMEMBERED THE TONGUE SUCKING!!! #WRITING #HARRY STYLES SMUT #HARRY SMUT #YAHTZEEE #OKAY #HOPE YOU LOVE IT #LOVE YOU

[xythlia]

⎙ 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄, 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐓 !

› mammon x f!reader

› request for my mootie wif the best ideas <3 @aestrayla I hope u don't mind I took some creative liberties but u know something like that would make him SNAP ajdhsks

warnings : squirting, talking about making reader a mommy (not sorry), creampie, mating press, semi rough sex, aggressive mammon, possessiveness, hickies/biting, dacriphilia, breeding

"Uh, hey- wait what is that?"

Your eyes rolled back in your head, breath coming in short bursts in between drawn out moans of his name.

The tinny voice coming from somewhere by your head barely registers in your brain, your field of vision dominated by Mammon as he laid over you between your legs.

"I dunno if you're busy or something but I was calling to talk..."

The way Mammons teeth flash as his lips pull back in a possessive snarl makes something ignite deep inside your tummy. One hand finds your face, gripping your jaw while he forces you to look in his eyes, full of something primal that makes your heart beat erratically, not get distracted by your phone.

You hadn't seen it, but he definitely did catch the way your ex's name flashed across the screen right as he'd slid inside you, pushed your legs up to make sure you felt every inch of his cock as it pushed inside your soaked cunt. You'd been messing around in his bed after a movie marathon, your phone had been the one thing not tossed onto the floor as you both got caught up in each other.

Seeing it turned his mind into a flood of red. How dare some scum sucking human guy call you up? Doesn't he know you belong to him? And what the hell were you doing keeping an ex saved in your phone? Don't you know who you belong to? Without thinking he'd slid his finger to answer the call.

Mammons lips brush against yours, shushing your cries and his hips stop moving, keeping his throbbing cock inside you as you squirm.

"Answer him, baby." A whisper of a growl.

Your eyes gape, full of confusion as he lets go of your jaw, pulling away ever so slightly.

He can see the panic dancing across your previously pleasure drunk face.

"Yeah, sorry I'm- I'm really busy-" you struggle through the words.

"Okay," he pauses briefly. "I mean we can talk more later but I was thinking about you, us, you know? I miss you. I was wondering if you'd wanna give it another try?"

The question sits like a loaded gun in the room.

Your eyes are wild, hands scrabbling above your head fumbling for your phone but Mammon beats you to it. Snatching it up as you whine.

Mammon pulls nearly all the way out of you, feeling the way you clench around him in a desperate attempt to get him to stay. The swollen tip of his cock is all that stays nestled inside you. Gently he sets back on his heels, his other hand finding your pussy as he feigns absentmindedness while slowly circling your clit.

In a tone that makes you shiver and squeeze your eyes shut he starts speaking.

"Don't think so, man. She's too busy about to become a mom."

At that, coupled with a hard press of his index on your aching clit, a particularly hoarse groan is pulled from deep inside your chest.

"What the fuck, hey who is this dickhead?" Your ex's voice takes on a hard edge but it doesn't even register to you, not with your head pressed back against the pillows and your hips rolling upwards to chase Mammons touch.

"Ya heard me, but why don't I let her tell you herself?" He mocks, setting the phone right above your head as his hands dig into your hips in a bruising grip before he slams his hips back against you. The force of it makes you gasp and almost choke on your own spit.

But he can't stop himself now, forearms planting themselves firmly on either side of your face, lips devouring yours. It's sloppy, almost animalistic the way he pounds you into the mattress.

Your head is spinning and you've all but forgotten that there's someone else listening to you right now. There's no space in your mind for that, not when Mammons pace is so brutal and the only thing you can do is claw at his back in a weak effort to anchor yourself.

"Fuck," he pants, "Ya wanna be a mommy?" A smirk paints his face as he nuzzles his nose against the side of your neck, licking and sucking against the thin skin like his life depended on it.

You whine, burying your fingers in his snowy hair. The question makes your mind short out, like an electrical wire snapping and spraying sparks in its wake. You open your mouth but all that comes out is an incoherent mess, cries of his name as you frantically reach down and grip the backs of your thighs to pull them up, your moans reaching a fever pitch as you feel his cock prod even deeper.

Letting go of your neck with a soft pop he finds your lips again, biting on your bottom lip and drinking down your cries like they're the finest wine in any realm.

After a hard nip to the swollen flesh he breaths out against your mouth, "Wanna hear you say it."

Tears slip down the sides of your face, you feel the odd wetness of them pooling against your ears as you sob eagerly. "I wanna be a mommy- please-!"

Your voice gets cut off in a squeal as he takes control of your legs, pushing them so far against your chest it makes you wheeze. He grunts against the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him, your slick walls throbbing and just begging to milk him. With your mouth dropped open in a silent wail Mammon feels something warm spray against his abdomen.

But still his hips keep thrusting against you, balls twitching every time they slap against your ass. He can feel the way he's clenching his jaw so hard his teeth might break. Seeing your slack jawed tear stained face and feeling the way you cling on to his shoulders so pathetically finally slows him down.

With a few long, deep thrusts he stills inside you, relishing in the way your pussy is practically sucking in the warm thick cum spurting inside you. It's confirmation, in his mind, that now he's gotta commit to this.

In a fleeting second of awareness his eyes slide from your cockdrunk face to your phone. The screen is dark.

With a grin that oozes smug satisfaction he captures your lips again in a slow, burning kiss, tongue sliding against yours languidly.

Dragging his spit covered lips to kiss along your jaw his hips gingerly start moving again, prompting a low whine from you as your eyes flutter open.

His hands reach under you, cupping your ass and holding you open for him. "Gotta make sure it takes, right?"

#obey me x reader #obey me smut #obey me imagine #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #om! mammon #mammon x reader #mammon smut #om smut #mammon x you #obey me x female reader #꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ kita writes

[teabutmakeitazure]

Pinprick in the Backdrop

The background is something you should always pay attention to.

>Yan! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

>Warnings: not specified to avoid spoilers. please proceed with caution.

>Word count: ~15k (slow burn)

>a/n: proofread to the best of my capabilities. if there's any spelling error, pls ignore

There are always some people you see everyday without fail on the train. Some you find on your way to the station and in the train, some on the train, and some when you step out of it. Most of you have never talked to each other, but you recognise them. Even if the middle aged lady who always sits near the door of car 7 changed her hair colour completely.

You can still recognise them. Seeing their face isn’t a requirement. It’s their existence that matters. It’s especially funny when you call the teenagers by name on Halloween despite the costumes they’re wearing.

Perhaps you missed a great opportunity to go into criminology or become a detective. Maybe even a spy. However, what’s done is done. You can’t say you hate your job, so you suppose it’ll do as long as you’re able to live a comfortable life and send some money back home to your parents.

Speaking of money, your boss - or should you say the man who also overlooks the finance department - has been absent from work for two weeks. It’s the main reason why your salary this month hasn’t come in yet. Why they decided to not pay you all is a mystery, but why your boss has disappeared is a bigger mystery. The money you have left in your account isn’t enough for the entire month, so they better pay you all soon.

-

The penitence of innocents always baffles you. There was nothing you could have done, nothing you could have changed, so why? Why does the human conscience produce these feelings of guilt? Maybe it’s because you unconsciously recall times when you were cruel or times when you had ignored to cherish the moments.

At the end of the day, it’s puzzling feelings like these that make you human. Black jacket hugged closer to your body, you head back to your desk, shaking the mouse as you try to wake up the monitor. Your boss is dead. The reason why it took so long to confirm was because he died in a different country and his cell phone was destroyed.

Another mystery is why he flew to a different country on a weekend, and that too for just four days. He didn’t even have any family there. They all live here, so imagine their surprise when they find out his ‘business trip’ was actually a personal one. You don’t question why they didn’t bother to contact his workplace when he didn’t return.

Quite a lot has happened within the span of a few days. First there was the news of your boss being pronounced dead. That was followed by the memorial they had in the office, and lastly, your salaries finally came in. You can refresh your savings now.

Still, the radical change in circumstances you cannot get over. Your boss, the half bald guy whose biggest transgression was making jokes in poor taste, dead? The information you all were given is vague. He left for a different country, somewhere in the Mimbo Republic to be specific, from Yorbia, where you are. It’s not your job to dig into people’s business, but this seems too fishy because his family also refuses to utter a word.

Thus, like all women trying to find information on a man they are interested in, you turn to the internet. Scrounging through news articles of accidents and injury and deaths, you finally find a few noteworthy ones from the day he supposedly passed away.

The darkness in your bedroom adds to the suspense, light solely coming from your backlit keyboard and the open window. It doesn’t help that it’s past two in the morning, almost three, but you’re determined as you scan through descriptions of a ‘buy and sell’ gone wrong.

Two hundred people. That is how many died at that event.

To be fair, the entire administration and security also kicked the bucket, and the attendees were around one hundred according to the article. None of this still makes sense. Was your boss among those people? If yes, why would he be at such an event?

Scratch that, his family definitely knows something.

After spending a little less than an hour snooping around, you finally shut down your laptop and go under the covers. It’s understandable when sleep doesn’t come easily.

-

The commute to work was the same as usual. The only difference was that one of the girls in your neighbourhood was nowhere to be seen on the train. Maybe she skipped school today. Despite the ordinary day, you are in no mood to entertain when familiar footsteps grow closer and closer to your desk.

“Hi, [Name]!”

You wish you left the building for lunchtime after all.

“You’re not going out for lunch?”

With the most uninterested face you can make, you shrug, eyes not leaving the monitor. If he gets the hint, he leaves.  If he doesn’t… you’ll just excuse yourself and leave.

“So you’re not eating?” He’s behind you now, eyes fixed onto your monitor as he tries to make sense of the gibberish. “Your work requires a lot of thinking. You should eat something.”

“Not right now,” you sigh. “I have a whole hour left. I’ll eat when I feel like it.”

You know what this guy is doing. His engagement recently went wrong when he found out his ex-fiance was cheating on him, and now he’s seeking out someone to fill the hole. Quite literally in his case, but whatever. Perhaps you would have given him the time of day if he wasn’t so obvious and desperate… or if you ever bothered to remember his name.

It’s worse when you remember that you didn’t recognise him after the break-up. Chills. That’s what you felt. It’s best to keep your distance. He isn’t the same guy who gushed about the love of his life 24/7. There’s something unstable around him.

“Well, whenever you feel like it, just shoot me a text.” His hands grab the edge of your backrest, just millimetres away from touching your back. “I want to treat you to lunch.”

Closing the tab and opening another one, you voice your response. “Sorry, but I brought food from home. I’ll be eating that.”

“Oh.” he sounds disappointed. “No worries. I’ll treat you some other time then.”

Note to self. Bring lunch from home everyday from now on. If that’ll help keeping him off your back then so be it.

-

It has now been two weeks since your boss’ memorial was held. His replacement has already been hired, but you can’t bring yourself to bother too much. Some of your coworkers have started cozying up to him and buttering him up which is intimidating the poor man. Workplace politics is something you could never have prepared yourself for.

Another thing you couldn’t have prepared yourself for is adulthood. Why is it so hard to choose what to eat? You can’t live off of takeout because it’s not healthy, and whenever you fail to finish eating the fruits you got before they go bad makes you feel like more of a failure. Thus, with great determination, you end up buying half a dozen apples.

If you eat one daily, you’ll finish them all in under a week. More items are added to your trolley and when you finally exit the self-service checkout, you roll your shoulders, readjust your backpack, manoeuvre the plastic bags into a more comfortable position, and begin the walk home.

It’s nighttime, just one hour away from the shops closing. You know you’re safe because almost all of the people you are familiar with. There are only some here and there who you haven’t seen before, but they’re all normal.  It’s evident from the way ‘it’ is stable around them. ‘It’ is light and calm. 

After a fifteen minute walk, you’re at your apartment building. Unfortunately, you wasted too much time walking around after you got off work and now you’ll have to eat dinner late. Well, it’s not like your sleep schedule is fixed anyway. Another day of sleeping late shouldn’t hurt. It’s the weekend now anyway.

-

It is on this wonderful Saturday afternoon that you realise you don’t have friends. Clarification. You don’t have friends where you live.

After graduating, all of your friends either stayed in the same city or moved away somewhere else entirely. None of them came here, or anywhere in Yorbia for that matter. It’s realisations like these that force you to ponder over your future. What are you going to do? What’s your aim? 

Before, it was to graduate and get a decent job. Now that you have that, what now?

With the lack of ice cream in your freezer, maybe you should start with procuring dessert. What about takeout as well? You could go for an evening walk, watch the sunset and get food for dinner altogether. That sounds nice.

Laptop turned on, you type in the address of a shady website and start browsing through the movie catalogue. Today, you will relax. Having hours of screen time isn’t a good idea, but it’s the weekend. Mistakes don’t count.

-

Maybe I should get mama and papa to move in with me after papa retires. That’s your thought when you head to the supermarket to get ice cream with takeout in hand. Getting food before ice cream wasn’t the best idea since it’ll be cold by the time you get home, but what’s done is done.

Life is lonely here. Sitting at home, alone, eating takeout and ice cream out of the tub while shows you’ve rewatched more than five times play on the TV. Maybe you should make some friends, but where?

Your workplace doesn’t have anyone, let alone any girl, your age. You also haven’t met anyone you wanted to be friends with. They’re all blended into the familiar background.

Paying with your card, you leave the self-service checkout counter and ready yourself for the walk back home. It’s more fun when you’re leaving the house for a walk, not the other way around.

Still, you take in the people around you like you do all the time. Most people you know, you recognise.  You’ve been seeing them for so long. There are always a few who are a little odd as ‘it’ is a little unruly around them, like your notorious coworker. However, ‘it’ is still light and faint but most importantly familiar. That’s the most comforting thing about it. The familiarity is what’s important.

So imagine the surprise and utter shock you feel when ‘it’ is as dark as the night sky around a stranger you have never seen before.

The darkest you have ever seen is something similar to how dark yellow is compared to pure white. So seeing something as contrasting as jet black to white, you can’t help it when the bags fall from your hand and onto the ground.

You’re frozen on the spot, mouth hung open as you stare wide eyed at the stranger who stands just a few metres ahead of you. He doesn’t notice at first, too busy speaking over the phone to pay attention, but when his eyes fall onto you, they’re slow and knowing, like he’s been aware of your gaze since you saw him among the others around you.

A few deep, trembling breaths, and you grab the bags off the ground and dash by him as fast as you can without it seeming too obvious you saw something. This time you do not pause to soak in the familiarity of the surroundings. Your only goal is to get home.

-

Bringing lunch from home is starting to get tiring. You have to wake up earlier and pack leftovers as well as make sure you have leftovers or cook something the night before in case you don’t. All because some weirdo who’s hung up on his ex can’t take a hint. To be fair you don’t have the guts to outright say no as well.

Maybe you should work on that.

Today, you decided to take a walk on the pier near your apartment building. It’s also a fifteen minute walk away since it’s close to the supermarket. Nevertheless, you sit down on a bench and just watch the water. 

It’s soothing, being idle like this. God, you really need a break.

Families and couples who you usually see around walk about the area. There’s something so special about this. This comfortable bubble you’ve created. Sure, you’re lonely with most of your social interaction being the neighbourhood kids or the teenagers on the train, but it’s all so comfortable.

It’s warm. Maybe you should ask your parents to visit. They’d like it here. The accessible sea and half middle aged or above population would be something they’d like.

The sun has gone down now, and the moon has started to become visible. So, with reluctance to let go of the passing time, you get up, backpack once again on your shoulders, and start the walk back home. Maybe you should also get an actual bag instead of using the one you did in university. You know, something that’s more feminine.

Regardless, as long as this one works, you’ll use it. No need to get a replacement if the thing isn’t destroyed yet. Wait, scratch that. Should you get more ice cream? Brownies maybe? The supermarket is right here and they have a section for freshly baked items. The brownies were amazing when you last got them.

You abruptly turn on your heel, completely determined to get what you are now suddenly craving. One step forward and you collide with something, getting pushed back a few steps from the force of whatever kind of brick it was. Barely are you able to regain your balance. Had you fallen, your laptop would not have survived.

You raise your head to look at what it was you walked into, ready to curse while there are no children around, but are completely frozen when you see him again. ‘It’ is large, so much more prominent and stronger than what you have seen in all the years you’ve lived. It’s like it’s protecting him, gently swirling around him like a protective layer.

It’s menacing, to say the least. You have no strength to utter a single word when the stranger steps closer to you, tilting his head as he inspects you for any injuries.

Or at least that’s what you think he’s doing.

You’re absolutely horrified at how ‘it’ seems to dissipate as he steps closer, the presence of it almost completely gone. It’s now as noticeable as it is for everyone, but you can still see the darkness of ‘it’. No way does it help that you can now also feel the mancing aura it has.

“Are you alright?”

Blinking at him, you come back to the present situation, the background noises coming back to invade your senses. Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, and your chest feels extremely heavy. Why is it so hard to breathe?

���Ah, it seems like the collision stunned you. It’s okay. I apologise for bumping into you.” The stranger smiles, and it causes bile to rise up your throat. You don’t like how he’s still looking at you like that. Like he’s looking for something.

“Hello? Are you alright, miss? Really, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he chuckles. You, on the other hand, fail to see what’s so humorous.

It takes a few more seconds to compose yourself, but your heart still beats loudly, spelling out the letters R-U-N in bold capital letters. However, social etiquette forces you to take a deep breath, bow, and voice your apology.

The stranger fails to get another word in before you awkwardly fast walk away with the nagging memory of the bandage covering his forehead and dark bangs messily falling over them.

-

Today, you walk home from the train station as fast as you can. The encounter yesterday has shook you to the core, and until you don’t see this stranger for a month straight, you will not cease the hurried travel back home.

Whoever this man is, you do not want to be within even a 10 metre radius of him. Something is definitely off about him, and in your experience the darker ‘it’ is, the worse person they are. You just don’t know what ‘it’ as dark as his means.

Nevertheless, fate likes to throw a pie on your face and laugh at you because he’s standing right outside your apartment building.

Fuck. That’s your only thought. Maybe you’ll hang around the neighbourhood or walk on the pier until he leaves. Yeah. better make yourself scarce. Unfortunately, fate throws another pie because when you turn your back and start quietly walking away, he notices you and calls out.

The bastard calls out to you.

Oh fuck me, you think. So much for not wanting to see him again. What does he even want? Does he want to know why you look at him like you’ve seen the man murder people countless times before?

“Ah, I’m sorry for disturbing your evening,” he says as he jogs up to you. How he noticed you while you were literally a building away you do not know. “I saw you leave this building in the morning, so I figured you live here. I’m sorry for intruding like this.”

‘It’ is still barely there like yesterday. That doesn’t mean you can’t feel the suffocating aura he has. Awkwardly, you sputter out a greeting. “Oh uh, h-hi.” The bandages aren’t there today, but those Godforsaken earrings are still there and his forehead is still covered by a hat. Does he have a receding hairline he doesn’t want to show?

He’s smiling at you, and you’re now noticing how wide and innocent looking his eyes are.

“My name is Chrollo,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Again, I’m sorry about the collision yesterday.”

You look at him for a few more seconds, heart beating erratically in your chest. “[Name]. And it’s okay. It was an accident on my part as well.”

Chrollo tilts his head slightly, eyes fixed on you and giving you his full attention. “Ah, that’s a lovely name. A lovely name for a lovely lady.”

You have never cringed this hard in years. Still, you force yourself to awkwardly laugh just to be polite and attempt to cut the conversation short. There’s no reason you should stick around. It’s utterly pointless and risky considering how his mere presence makes you feel.

“Excuse my forwardness,” Chrollo says, “but I was wondering if there are any good restaurants here I can try. I’m staying here at a hotel nearby until I find a proper accommodation, so I was hoping you could give me some recommendations.”

You open your mouth to say something just to stop short of any sound exiting your mouth. What comes next is an apology. Be useless to him. Don’t give him any reason to seek you out again. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t lived here long enough to know.” Wait, that makes it sound like I just moved here which makes me an easy target if he’s a serial killer. “No- what I mean is that I’ve lived here for a while but I usually cook, so I’m afraid I haven’t explored the food here. I only get takeout from the restaurant behind the supermarket nearby.”

Grey eyes blink at you, the gaze attentive. The corners of his lips are still turned upwards, and his lips slowly part to allow him to speak. Everything seems more detailed. You can’t wait to shrug him off.

“If I may, I’d love to explore the food here with you.”

Fuck. Did I just get asked out? No no. Be realistic. He just needs someone to cling to in this new environment or he’s a serial killer trying to make you lower your guard. You sigh. Whichever it is, you refuse his offer regardless. “I’m sorry, Chrollo.” The fall of his smile is instant. It’s almost creepy. “I don’t plan on eating out too much. I enjoy cooking, so I’d like to stick to cooking as much as I can.” Seriously. What is it with men and taking you out to eat? “Thank you for the offer though. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d love to get ho-”

“I don’t mind cooking together as well.”

“...” What? There’s no way he just said that to you.

“If you prefer cooking, I have no issues with cooking together.” He’s still looking at you, expectantly this time, and you feel like the ground beneath your feet is crumbling away. Why can’t men take a hint?

“Ah, I really should get home soon. Isasmo must be waiting for me. I promised him I’d be home early.”

“Isasmo?”

“Mhm.” You’re shaking your head now. The presence of a man awaiting your return or curious about your whereabouts always works. “He gets very worried if I don’t get home on time. I don’t want him to worry, so if you’ll excuse me…”

Chrollo chuckles. Closing his eyes, he gently shakes his head. The loss of his gaze is short lived, but when it’s back, it cuts through your being. “Sorry for keeping you. I didn’t know you had someone waiting for you at home.”

Like earlier, your heart starts beating in your ears. How he’s keeping you on edge you have no idea. It’s maddening. “Alright. I’ll be heading home now.”

He smiles. “No ‘see you later’?”

Because I don’t want to see you later! “Goodbye!” With that, you dash past him and quickly enter the comfort of your apartment building without looking back. Honestly, you should start coming home at different times. Just to throw him off in case he swings by again.

-

Today, you discovered that your other coworkers are ‘talking’. Due to your sad lack of friends, you have no way of getting in on what’s going on, so you’ve resorted to hanging around corners whenever you hear someone talking or walking around with headphones on so that people think you can’t hear them.

Oh you can definitely hear them.

After a few days of gathering information you have learnt that the coworker who has still not given up on his pursuit of taking you out for lunch is acting a bit weird. Honestly, you called it way back. The day his engagement broke, he started acting differently.

You know because you can see with your own eyes at a glance instead of having to rely on long term observation. It also doesn’t help that ‘it’ has become slightly darker. It’s no way as dark as Chrollo’s, but it is noticeable enough to be discernible.

Speaking of Chrollo, why is he at the pier? No, scratch that. Why is he looking at you?

Quickly, as to not make it seem suspicious, you grab your phone from your pocket, press it to your ear, and start acting like you just accepted a call. With that legendary tactic that got you out of countless social interactions in university, you turn on your heel and start walking in the opposite direction.

When confirmed that he isn’t following after you and is nowhere to be seen, you pocket the device and continue on your merry way. The wind is chilly, the moon is hiding bashfully behind a cloud, and a tub of ice cream has been picked up.

Goods in hand, you arrive at your apartment. It doesn’t surprise you that midnight comes quickly. It is only after the clock shows 12: 30 am that you release the unhealthy snack for the night from the freezer and sit in the extremely poorly lit bedroom and stare at your laptop screen.

This time, however, you aren’t gaming, only browsing through more than eleven opened tabs (you lost count after eleven) and growing more puzzled by the minute. The incident that may have led to your boss’ death is gaining attention, especially on the conspiracy theory websites. Some say that the entire thing was a result of the mafia’s activities, while some claim that a notorious band of thieves did that to steal everything.

You have no evidence or trails that your boss died while participating in that ‘buy and sell’, whatever that means, but it sure does make you suspicious because you recently found out one thing. His body wasn’t recovered.

The more you think about it the worse it gets. Despite not wanting to, you’ve doom scrolled for so long that you’ve ended up on a five year old conspiracy theory post claiming that a group called ‘The Phantom Troupe’ goes around the world stealing stuff. The comments are mostly people confirming it, some even claiming to be hunters and saying that it’s true and common knowledge among hunters.

If they’re that dangerous and destructive, why doesn’t the Hunter’s Association take action? It’s all just a bluff or an exaggeration. 

Lights all off, you get up to place your laptop onto your desk, but catch sight of something moving in the corner of your eye. It was barely there, something black or dark, but knowing that you left your living room window open, you simply sigh.

It’s completely quiet. So quiet, in fact, that you can hear your own breathing. Setting aside the fact that the awareness forces you to have to manually breathe, you slam the window shut but rest your forehead against the cool glass. Eyes stare down at the empty neighbourhood, and you start wondering how you got here.

It sometimes feels like a dream. Highschool feels like just a few weeks ago, and yet here you are. It’s surreal. 

Five minutes of reminiscence are all you allow yourself, hands promptly grabbing the deep green curtains and drawing them just to freeze when you catch sight of something shining right behind you for just one moment. Turning your head around at an unholy speed only gives you neck pain because there’s nothing there.

Curse you conspiracy theorists. You will be extremely mad if you have a nightmare or lose sleep.

-

Your coworker didn't show up today. It almost makes you feel sad because you can get lunch from outside without having to deal with him. Ah, but the food you brought…

Nevermind. You'll eat it at home. Shoving the lunchbox back into your bag, you grab your wallet and head to the elevator. Headphones are on like usual in hopes of catching any stray gossip from around you.

Oh and do you catch a big one. Your coworker isn't replying to any texts or calls. He's ignoring everyone. The guy from accounting said in the elevator that he might be hungover since he has a drinking habit. Honestly, you should try and advance your relationships with these people from simple greetings. They’re better information sources than the news.

Nevertheless, you breathe a sigh of relief, merrily heading outside the building to head to the little hole in the wall restaurant you've been eyeing for a while.

The streets are busy as usual, almost everyone's lunch hours overlapping at this particular moment, so it isn't a surprise that you bump into a few people while trying to make your way. Although… it is a surprise when you bump straight into Chrollo.

Headphones are promptly pulled down to hang around your neck, and you brace yourself to visually deal with the pressing feeling that’s constricting your chest. ‘It’ is there but the comfort of the crowd allows you to deal with it with less effort.

You still don’t know why he’s like that. You don’t know why ‘it’ is like that around him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, “we should really stop bumping into each other.”

It’s the middle of the day and he’s dressed like he’s going to a funeral. Long black coat, black hat extending over his forehead, black button down, black dress pants, black-

What the actual hell are those shoes? Is that big yellow thing a nail that was screwed in? What the fu-

“Is something the matter?” Head tilted to meet your downward gaze, Chrollo’s expectantly looking into your eyes. There’s a moment of silence between you both, but you fill it with action as you move to the side to not take up space on the street.

With a very noticeable deep breath, you sigh. “Nothing’s wrong.” Something is wrong. His thing around him is creeping you out and making you uncomfortable. “I’m just a little tired.” Make yourself seem uninterested. You don’t particularly like this guy, remember?

He nods. “I see.” A pause and the dreaded question is voiced. “Do you work somewhere around here?”

“Yes,” you reply simply.

“Is it your lunch break?”

“Yes…” you hesitate.

“Perfect.” Like how your luck with the male human specimen has always been, Chrollo proceeds to utter the most undesirable string of words. “If you haven’t eaten, I would love for you to join me for lunch. I found a restaurant and was heading there just now.”

Despite knowing it’s hard to get out of this, you still try. “Ah, actually, I only came for a walk. I brought food with myself.”

“It won’t go bad,” he negotiates. “Please. Just this once at least. I promise you’ll have fun.”

Chrollo’s voice is light, cheerful when he says that. You are tempted, but still want to go where you were originally heading. Maybe you could sneak to the restaurant you wanted after shaking him off somehow. But before that, just to confirm what he has in mind, you ask him where.

And being the joke that your luck is, it decides to practise its humour right now because he took the name of the restaurant you were heading to. It also doesn’t help that your eyes widened and Chrollo commented on it, saying that he ‘caught you’. Screw luck. Screw having your way. Life is just a horrible comedy show with dad jokes and shitty puns coming one after another.

A while later, you are seated across from a man who has broken the record of most uncomfortable you have ever been. This time, however, ‘it’ isn’t what’s making you uncomfortable. It’s the way he looks at you like he knows something or is trying to know something.

You hate to admit it but after spending more than five minutes in his presence, you’ve gotten used to the suffocating feeling.

Even if you would rather not be desensitised to it.

It’s quiet between you both, Chrollo choosing to observe you shamelessly while you try your utmost best to avoid looking at him or showing that you’ve noticed his blatant gaze. It’s not busy in here, so that doesn’t help either. Phone in your hand, you scroll through social media apps, tapping away countless stories of people out and about.

The silence got comfortable, but he opened his mouth.

“I forgot to ask,” he says, voice low, “what do you work as?”

Your eyes briefly flit up to meet his but return to the screen immediately. “Data analyst.”

“Data analyst? You must be quite intelligent,” he chuckles.

“If crying through eight semesters of school is smart, then I suppose so.”

There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks. “You got through it though. I count that as smart.”

Is he trying to flatter me? “Is that so?” You close the app and open a different one, indifference dripping from your tone. “What about you then? You didn’t say anything about yourself. For all I know, you could be a serial killer.” Fuck. Did I really just say that?

To your surprise, he laughs. The bastard laughs. “I’m afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you. I’m not a serial killer. I am, however, a fan of the arts.”

You remove your eyes from your phone screen, looking up at him even with your head tilted downwards. “You don’t look the part.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Those in STEM are all weirdos,” you state. Eyes move back to your phone, and you’re briefly reminded of the awkward lunches and dinners you went through during freshman year when you didn’t have friends. “The arts ones are pretentious. You look sophisticated, more like a theatre kid.”

Forearms now resting on the table, Chrollo leans towards you, an action you do not notice. “I’m quite sure that sophisticated and pretentious are synonyms, and even if they aren’t, they’re similar enough to be.”

You sigh. “‘A pretentious person works at the appearance of things. They want the appearance of substance, while either not understanding or not caring about actual substance. Sophistication, on the other hand, implies an authentic accumulation of knowledge and/or experience, and the ability to apply those things in advanced ways.’”

“...”

“That’s what an internet search says.” You look up, eyes slowly rising to meet his, but are startled when you see him considerably closer than earlier. He’s leaning forward, and out of instinct, you lean backwards. “So,” you continue, albeit nervously, “you’re wrong.”

Unfazed, he chuckles. “That means you think I have ‘authentically accumulated knowledge’. Why, I’m flattered.”

Again, you physically cringe with a crinkled nose at his smile and tone. “I’m only stating my observation. There are no intentions behind it.”

“Still,” Chrollo smiles, “you did think positively of me-”

“Food’s here!” He stops speaking immediately at your interruption, only shaking his head a little when you start eating. There’s not much time left for your break, so you’d rather get done with it and get back as fast as you can. 

Not having the luxury of savouring the food to your desire is sad, but you don’t think about it. ‘Next time for sure,’ you tell yourself. The fact that Chrollo didn’t let you pay for your portion just makes you want to get takeout next time. At least you won’t stare at him in horror again.

Even if slowly being desensitised to ‘it’ isn’t a preferable outcome.

-

Good news is that you haven’t seen Chrollo for a little more than a week. Bad news is that you haven’t seen your coworker for a little more than a week.

If you had a jenny for whenever a superior at work disappeared for more than one week, you’d have two jennys. That isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice. There’s got to be some kind of haunting going on. First your boss, then him? Another coworker? Another superior?

Sure, it’s been more peaceful without him here, but you don’t want another person to end up missing just to be pronounced dead. Neither is it good for the company’s reputation, nor is it good for the work environment. There’s already been word spreading around that they’ve started looking for his replacement.

Maybe that’s smart. Maybe… because not even the police have found any leads on his whereabouts yet. His entire apartment is just as it was, dirty laundry in the laundry basket, his phone and wallet still on his nightstand, bed not made, food left to cool still on the kitchen counter…

It’s a little eerie if you think about it.

Scratch that, it’s downright creepy. Where could he have gone? They even found half drunk bottles of different alcoholic drinks on his dining table. Did he get drunk and run off somewhere? Where could he have gone? Did he… get killed?

You have no idea of what’s going on. That is why you, being the detective that you are, have your laptop open in front of you at 1 a.m. as you scrounge the internet for any missing persons cases from this town. So far nothing noteworthy is coming up, the most being missing girls but nothing about a grown man disappearing to never be heard back from or seen again.

An hour or two of more searching bears no fruit and an additional hour of trying to sleep is rewardless. With great annoyance, you get up and throw on the biggest coat you own, something dark grey that almost reaches your ankles. Grabbing your keys and phone, you make the most foolish decision to take a walk at what you think is probably four in the morning.

The pier is silent. The only person you saw was a police officer on his bike drinking a hot cup of coffee.

It’s empty too, and cold. Is the nighttime really so serene? Hands are shoved into your pockets and your feet bring you to your destination on their own. It feels like walking on cotton, yet it doesn’t feel bad. It somehow feels soothing.

The empty pier’s cool wind blows through your hair. Enjoying this kind of loneliness is somewhat of a liberating experience. Did your missing coworker seek out something like this before he went missing? Did he want to feel the kiss of the cool late night wind on his cheeks? You lean over to look at the waves below, hair cascading around your face. You are met with the reflection of the starry night sky, and it isn’t long before you pull back.

Fifteen minutes of waddling around are all you allow yourself before pulling yourself back home. The keychains jingle when you turn the key in the keyhole, breathing a sigh of relief when you are finally back inside. Your feet immediately take you to your bedroom, hands grabbing the coat and throwing it to the nearest surface, and you immediately jump under the covers.

Face meeting something pink and smiling, you sigh again. “Goodnight Isasmo.” The pink axolotl’s smile remains and you cuddle the plushie before snuggling into the bed’s warmth. You hope sleep comes easy.

-

Three weeks. It has now been three weeks since your coworker has been missing. He has now been promoted to ‘missing person’ and his face, along with his cinnamon(?) hair, is now on every other newspaper or screen. It has also been three weeks since you last saw Chrollo, but you aren’t bothered by that. It’s actually a good sign. Never seeing him again is a favourable outcome.

Regardless, your coworker’s name is now permanently etched into your memory. Raaz Olen. That's his name. He has no direct family left, parents having passed away around a decade ago, and the only sibling alive is an older sister who wants nothing to do with him. It's a sad background if you think about it.

You sigh, turning off the computer screen before rubbing your eyes. Life has been uneventful these days. The most exciting thing you recently did was video chat with your old friends. Your best friend, the one who is about to replace your position in her life, suggested downloading a dating app because according to her you need some ‘action’. Were the eight semesters of action not enough? What’s so wrong with peace?

Yet in a moment of weakness, you caved into the idea and committed the act. A cropped group photo to show your arm awkwardly cropped out was uploaded and now there have been quite a few messages and matches. This unfortunate experience has only further proved why you say you have bad luck with the male human specimen. Their first move is to ask about your past relationships, and being salty over their shamelessness, you recount in detail just how agonising it was to be in love with what only hurt you back, to pine after what only reduced you to tears.

You deliberately left out the part that the object of your desire was your degree. At the very least, their uninterested replies were entertaining. Ah, such laughable insecurity. The app will go when you’ve had your fun. Until then, you suppose you’ll use it as a last ditch resort for entertainment.

If you do end up scoring a free dinner… well, no. You would rather not risk a date with a serial killer or worse, someone who wants a second date. The chances are slim, but never zero.

Another notification from the app dings, and you briefly check your phone to see a notification from someone who matched with you. There’s a “Hey! You’re very pretty,” as his message, and you almost scoff at the repetition. The amount of times you have been called ‘pretty’ by strangers on this app is laughable. Did they fall short of words? Maybe that’s just the standard compliment in the world of men.

You end up placing your phone face down, ignoring any following dings, and get back to work. There is only one hour left until you get to go home, and you would prefer not to leave this task for tomorrow to complete.

-

An old lady you see everyday on the train on your way back passed away. Despite having only exchanged greetings with her a few times and carried her bags for her at least a dozen times, you felt oddly sad when you heard of her death. Yes, you only knew her name and that her kids, her three sons, never called after moving away, but you felt like something had been taken when you heard.

Not something big but something small. Something you would not be bothered with by being gone but something you would definitely notice and feel the absence of. You took a day off to attend her funeral since it was hosted by the old age home she was living in, yet you ended up taking a day off after that as well.

Three boys, three men, lost a mother that day and none bothered to show up.

-

“Okay mama. I’ll pick you guys up from the airport. No, I don’t own a car. We’ll get a cab- it’s perfectly safe here! You’re not going to get mugged on the way from the airport, relax!”

More fretting comes from the other side, and you simply continue stirring the soup. The worries aren’t what annoys you. It’s the panic.

After around ten more minutes of reassurance, the call is disconnected and your soup is ready. It’s been a month since Raaz went missing, yet you cannot say you have moved on. It bothers you that a man like him can just vanish. Also, seeing his replacement walk around the office simply makes it worse. You prefer a person who would make you uncomfortable with interactions because of how ‘it’ seems to be rather than a person whose eyes wander where they aren’t supposed to.

Alas, on this fine Friday evening, soup has been cooked and a plan for your parents to visit you at the end of the year has been made. Your father agreed to use his annual leave to come visit you, and the only thing left is for the tickets to be purchased. If they like it here, you could convince them to move here! Maybe even look into your father working at the same place as you.

All is going according to plan! Now what to do about the guy who keeps pestering you to meet up…

You switch apps on your phone to see that he’s sent another few messages, mainly asking if you’re free this weekend. If you consider the sleep you need to catch up on and the show you want to binge, then you have no free time. Besides that, you really don’t feel like going out on a date. Should you just uninstall the app? Messing with the people you matched with has gotten tiresome. Perhaps you should.

Thus, with a few taps to your screen, your account on the application is deleted and the application itself is uninstalled. Honestly, you consider that a job well done. That calls for a reward; the reward being a coupon that can be redeemed anytime which grants you permission to do one stupid thing.

You know you would do the stupid thing regardless, but having a sort of system like that makes you feel less guilty when facing the consequences.

-

Being pulled into an alleyway with a hand firmly planted onto your mouth is not what you ever could have expected to happen to you on this Monday afternoon. Maybe your condemnation for toying with all those men on the dating app has caught up or maybe it’s one of those men here to force you to accept his advances.

Either way, you did not expect to start crying first thing when in a situation like this.

A hand strokes your arm, attempting to soothe you, as the other remains over your mouth. You can feel your assailant’s body heat and his breath over your ear when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “Be quiet and it’ll be painless for both of us,” he says.

You furiously nod, sensing the threat, and he immediately lets go. Legs promptly spring to run, but the hand grabbing your arm renders your efforts futile. It is when your struggling ends in you falling onto the ground and him twisting your arm behind your back painfully that you relax, repeatedly tapping the dirty ground with your palm to show that you give up.

There are no faces that come to mind when you think of who you could've angered to this point, so the surprise that floods your blood vessels when you see Raaz’s face under the black hoodie makes you almost dizzy. His hair is dirty and unkempt, facial hair clearly not maintained as he was always clean shaved, and there’s a wildness to his eyes. You try your best to not pay attention to how ‘it’ is darker than before. You liken the difference to how dark brown is compared to beige, but you realise that ‘it’ is more menacing than it ever was.

Raaz is clearly unstable, yet you yourself can’t stop shaking from the lingering adrenaline.

“Stay quiet and listen to me,” he orders. “I need a place to hide. [Name], you have to help me. You will help me.”

Hide? What does he need to hide from? You dust off your clothes as you stand, a groan leaving your throat when the soreness in your arm makes itself known. He immediately grabs it again, afraid you’d run, but let’s go when you angrily shrug it off. “What happened to you?” you ask. “Everyone thinks you’re dead.”

“I will be if you don’t help me.”

Taken aback, you try to think over the situation. Raaz, someone who you always thought was or had the potential to be unstable, is here, clearly frazzled and on the run from something or someone, and wants you to help him hide. What does he want? To stay at your apartment? Risk your life for him?

“I-if it’s that bad,” you start, voice already shaking, “I can’t help you.” The betrayal on his face makes ‘it’ stronger, and you freeze, barely able to get your words out. “If you’re not able to hide in such a big city, I-I don’t- I don’t think you’ll be safe anywhere I can keep you.”

Raaz grits his teeth, his hoodie now pulled down to reveal dirty cinnamon hair, and takes a step forward. Out of fear, and to maintain distance, you take one back but panic when you’re unable to lift your feet. One glance down and you see something shiny protruding from the ground wrapped around your ankles. It broke pavement to crawl around your feet and now they’re stuck to the ground.

You gasp when two arms settle on your shoulders firmly. With a shaky breath, you gather the courage to look up into Raaz’s crazed eyes, all colour draining from your face when his hands grab your face instead. Nails dig into your cheeks, harshly tugging it closer to his. When you retaliate by clawing at his wrists, he simply grabs your hair instead.

Tugging the strands, your head is pulled back, neck exposed. You can see him breathing heavily, ‘it’ growing more erratic and frightening. Like all rabbits stuck in a trap, you thrash, attempting to free yourself from his grip, to miraculously free your feet and be able to run into the safety of the public street.

“You-” he pauses, eyes widening. Your hair is immediately let go of, and he whips his head at record speed, looking over his shoulder. The panic is oozing from his countenance, hands shaking and lips trembling. You think you’re looking at a man running away from death just to be caught up with at every corner and turn.

Curses spill from his mouth, and he turns completely. You feel the grip on your feet loosening, and taking the opportunity, you pry your feet out of the grip. Raaz has still turned his back to you, head moving as he searches for something. When he does not react to your escape from your restraints, you run.

A hand barely grabs your hair again, but you are out of the alleyway before his pursuit is successful. Feet hastily take you back to the office building, and the first thing you do is run to the nearest bathroom. No one is inside, and you take the opportunity to catch your breath, letting all tears escape from your eyes before you wash your face and fix your appearance. The adrenaline is still in your system, and you’re left not knowing what to do.

How the hell is Raaz still alive? And what is he running from? Why does he have a target on his back?

You do not know him beyond a coworker who was not over his relationship ending. Who knows? Maybe his ex-fiance did what she did because she found something out and didn’t want to risk staying with him.

Either way, you can’t get the look he had on his face out of your mind. 

-

Embarrassment is all you can feel when you exit the police station with a ‘call emergency services if you see him again’. Why don’t they understand that you might not be alive to call emergency services if you see him again? Bitterness is in your mouth as you hop on the train to get home. It’s dark now, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t scared.

You honestly don’t know what you did wrong to have gotten caught up in all that. Regardless, you’re looking over your shoulder as you walk home from the station, adrenaline coursing through you as you make your way through. It’s when you’re home and have checked all the rooms and windows that you breathe a sigh of relief.

Whatever the hell happened, happened. You’ll keep emergency services on speed dial and try your best to dial them if anything happens again.

If only sleep comes easy after all this.

-

It’s been a week since your encounter with Raaz. Today is Tuesday, the previous week’s Monday being the fateful day. You’ve since been bringing lunch from home like before and find it a little funny how Raaz is the one who’s making you bring leftovers again. 

Anyway, to the matter at hand. Someone’s been inside your apartment.

You can tell because you left a pencil lead in the gap between the door and door frame of your closed bedroom door. It was still closed when you got home, but the pencil lead was broken and on the floor which is something that could not have happened unless someone opened the door with the lead still in the gap.

You had been doing that ever since the incident with Raaz and today is the day your paranoia proved to have grounds. Now what are you supposed to do? Live with the information that someone has been inside your home?

Isasmo stares at you from under the covers, his dopy black eyes peeking out. You’ve checked the rest of your apartment and other than Isasmo and you, there is no one. Or at least no one you are aware of. Maybe you should look into moving.

Should you inform the police? Maybe you should, but what would you say? “I was paranoid so I put pencil lead in the gap between my door like a psychopath and guess what? It was broken when I got home! I’m being stalked!” They might laugh at you or place you under observation, the latter of which is preferable.

You end up sucking up the courage and going to file a report, a picture of the broken pencil lead on the ground being your only piece of evidence. It’s an uneventful walk, one where you are completely alert and looking over your shoulder as you get to the nearest station. After being ridiculed for being ‘delusional’ and ‘overthinking’, they agree to file a report and ‘look into it’ when threatened to find your dead body in your apartment one day. Seriously, what does a girl have to do to be believed? Die? 

You shake your head on the way home as you think over your conversation at the police station. The older officers ridiculed you but thankfully a younger one got them to at least file a report. Though you’ve been told you’ll be contacted if their investigation yields results, you doubt there will be one to begin with. Well, at least the pencil lead was intact when you got home. That is a relief.

-

It’s been a little more than a week since you filed a report at the police station and none of your pencil leads have been broken again. You would have thought the first one to break might’ve been done by something else had you not noticed that you’re almost out of pencil lead. You had counted 7 in the package just this morning and now there are 4…

Who’s messing with you? Do they think it’s funny? What if you’re paranoid? Are you sure you counted properly?

A sigh leaves your lips as you drop backwards onto the bed. Is this really what you have been reduced to? Curse whoever is doing this. The police have not contacted you again, so you went there yourself today and they said they didn’t find anything. As if they actually searched.

It makes you mad, yet you can’t do anything. Since there hasn’t been anything besides the pencil leads in the closed doors’ gaps, you chalk it up to suspicion. Whether you are delusional or the authorities, only time can tell.

-

Work has been slow lately, and you are reminded every single day of how boring your life has become. There has been no new gossip circulating and your attempts at making any new friends have not bore fruit. Your old friends have also started contacting you less as they’re busy in their own lives. Sure, you hardly have time yourself with how your job takes up two thirds of your day but you also don’t have a social life. That’s why you basically have nothing to do besides work and binge watch stuff.

Goodness, are you turning into your father? The temptation to download the dating app again whispers into your ear sometimes, but you fight it. You will only do so when you are seriously looking for someone, not when you are looking for fun. 

Bag on your shoulders, you pocket your phone and head to the elevator. Despite the fact that there isn’t much work, it’s dark when you’re done. Maybe you’ve gotten slow, not work.

The elevator doors open and you promptly leave, heading straight for the train station. It's an uneventful journey, and you choose to fill the silence by plugging in your earbuds. You step out of the train station, adjust your bag again, and head for the supermarket. The grocery list on your phone is pulled out, music flowing into your ears as you go about getting groceries.

Now with two plastic bags in hand, you make your way home. If you had restocked milk earlier - and not gotten lazy - you wouldn't have to haul two heavy plastic bags back home. Delivery is an option, but you won't be at home during the day to receive them. If only they offered delivery during the weekend.

Your phone rings, but you don't check who's calling. It's probably your mother, and it would be inconvenient to stop and drop the bags to pull your phone out. With a sigh, you continue walking. However, your trek is cut short when a hand grabs your wrist in a crushing grip, and pulls you closer. The music is still blasting in your ears, and you start sucking in a breath to scream only to stop when the grip turns almost bone breaking.

One look and you see Raaz's face under the black hood. He narrows his eyes at you and pulls you with him, bags still in hand and earbuds still in. When at his desired destination - a random alley like last time - you are pushed in front of him and you almost fall face first. You brace yourself and end up staggering but the bags fall and slide in opposite directions.

“Bad news, [Name].”

You barely hear him, hands reaching to pull out the earbuds and pocket them. Turning on your heel, you face him. He doesn't look any better than last time, only worse. ‘It’ is quieter, but you can sense how erratic it is. It feels like he's hiding how unstable he is only to do a poor job.

“You're going to go down with me,” he smiles. “Since you refused to help me hide, you now have a target on your back too.”

Disbelief contorts your expression into one of disgust. He's bluffing. He has to be. “Stop lying, Raaz. I'm not stupid and I'm not going to help you.”

He laughs, loud and sad. “That's what your mistake was. You never said yes to lunch and then I… then I ended up drinking again because another woman I love didn't want me.” A hand runs through his dirty hair before it slides down his hood. “I drank so much I bumped into the devil I was running from. And then… ah, fuck. I ended up telling him who I was thinking it was just another guy at the bar.”

Raaz looks you in the eye, and you take a step back from the sheer intensity only to find your feet restrained to your ground like during the previous encounter. It baffles you, but before you could question it or let alone panic, he's talking again.

“Now you're going to go down with me unless you help me. I'll let you go. I-I’ll get over you and Liza if you help me. You won't be harmed… probably.” He shrugs at the last part, and you find yourself not believing him at all.

Still, you prod further in hopes of making a false promise and being able to get away. There's no need to reason with him to go to the authorities. If it could've been helped, he would've gone there himself. “And just what,” you ask, “are you asking of me?”

“Money,” he replies instantly. “I burned all my savings trying to run. I need money so I can get a ticket and get the hell out of here.”

“I don't even know what you're talking about. How do you expect me to trust you?”

Your question makes ‘it’ flare up for a second before calming down, and Raaz doesn't miss the way your eyes widened for a minute. “I suspect you can see things. I'm right, aren't I?”

“Answer the questi-”

“Your legs,” he deadpans. A finger raises to point at your feet, and he continues. “I restrained them. Do you know how?”

You gulp, but humour him anyway. “How?”

He smiles. “I can manipulate metal.” A beat of silence passes before he talks. “That's why I'm like this. Someone wants me dead for this and I know he can do better but he's too busy fucking with me to make it quick.” Raaz inhales sharply, running a hand through his hair again. “I don't even know what he wants by dragging it out, but I'm going to make sure he regrets it.”

“You aren't even sure I'll be okay if I help you,” you state.

However, he just smiles at your complaint. “When someone's too busy chasing the big fish, they ignore the little ones.”

“Fine,” you concede. If it’ll get this psycho off your back, you'll give him money. “How much do you need?”

“Half a million jenny,” he says, clarifying when your jaw hangs open, “and I'm being generous. I'm going to have to fly illegally and it's going to take money.”

“I… I don't have much.”

“You're a data analyst, [Name]. You'll get your bonus after two months. Do something, anything.”

You suck in a breath. Maybe you could take some out of your credit card and some as a loan. You really don't want to pay interest, but you'll have to if you want this problem solved. “Okay.” The deal is sealed and you are sent on your merry way with an address typed into your notes app.

You can't believe you just agreed to that.

-

It's dark and quiet. The taxi dropped you off a few blocks away, leaving you to walk to the warehouses that once used to be rented by people for storage. The people running the business sold it off to someone who never bothered to continue it. Now you're here, cold and scared as you stand outside the dilapidated structure.

The garage door opens on its own, Raaz's face peeking from the darkness inside. His eyes light up at the sight of you. “You're here.”

You're ushered inside despite your protests. All you wanted to do was throw the bag of money to his feet and be back on your merry way but you just had to be pulled inside by a freaking metal pole of all things. Now you're here, standing with your feet restrained to the ground as Raaz counts to make sure you brought as much as he asked.

The only problem is, he's now talking on the phone and he just mentioned how he's got ‘both the girl and the cash’. Oh, and now there's something that's restraining your hands and despite how much you wiggle and pry your hands apart, it doesn't budge.

When Raaz glances your way from staring at all the money inside the bag, he just smiles. “I'm sorry for dragging you into this, [Name], but a man's gotta do what he's gotta do.”

Anger is the first thing that makes itself known because you took out a loan with interest for this dunce and he goes ahead to stab you in the back. Maybe you should've told the police about him. Shit. You shouldn't have been so stupid. But it is also the police's fault for never taking you seriously. If they had, you would've actually sought them out a third time.

“What are you doing?” Your voice grows louder, angrier and more desperate. “Let me go! You said you wanted money and you got it so let me go!”

Raaz clicks his tongue, and what he says next makes things clearer. “Don't get me wrong, someone has been after me but if I do as the boss says, he'll get me out of Yorbia safely.” Something fades in his eyes as he continues. “It's not like it's my first time. If I didn't have this side gig, I wouldn't be alive right now. There are too many people after you when you're like this.”

Something hard and solid slithers up your body and covers your mouth, cutting short any words from your mouth. Raaz stands, the light behind him hitting his back to make him look more menacing. “You'll be taken soon. I asked them not to hurt you and sell you immediately. Though cruel, it's a small price to pay for my own protection.”

You can hear an engine rumble outside, and a buzz in his pocket is all he needs to start stepping towards the garage door behind you. He moves while looking at you, hand awkwardly reaching behind him to pull up the garage door as his eyes remain fixed on your body. “Tie her up quickly. It'll wear off if I look away so make it-”

Thump.

Something heavy drops onto the ground and immediately the metal grip on you loosens a little. You can hear footsteps and a kick before the sound of the door closing. It's agonising, being forced to be still and helpless while something happens behind your back that is definitely not in your favour.

More footsteps and a figure in black stalks towards the bag of money only to ignore it entirely and head for the door in the back. You take the opportunity to fight against the restraints, wiggling and trying to move your arms but it's metal and you only end up exhausting yourself. You hear a sigh from the other room and freeze.

When the person is back, you are more confused and helpless when you see Chrollo's face. This time, there is nothing covering his forehead and you see something black covered by his bangs. It's when he steps closer that you make it out to be a tattoo of some kind.

“Your involvement was a surprise, but a welcome one,” he says. ‘It’ is calm and his voice is even calmer. He steps even closer, now standing just two steps away. “I had thought you were working with him, so imagine my surprise when it turns out he was using you. Or trying to, at least.”

You make a face but the metal wrapped around your mouth stops you from being able to convey it properly. Chrollo smiles at the display, the corners of his lips curling upwards out of amusement. “Do you need help?” His question only makes you grimace. “I'll free you if you tell me about your ability.”

You have no idea what the hell he's talking about, but you nod anyway, desperate to have the rigid metal wrapped around you gone. Chrollo steps forward and you expect him to reveal a chainsaw or some other tool, so it's perfectly reasonable when you shriek as his hand grabs the metal and literally rips it away from your body. As he pries away the last of it, you end up gaping at him, mouth wide open as you stare at him in disbelief.

Hands hanging by your sides, your features contort into one of fear as soon as he stands. Chrollo is now looking you in the eye expectantly and you have no idea what to answer him. Thus, you take a deep breath, confidence coming from the fact that ‘it’ is still calm and not threatening at all. Your lips part to speak and you briefly catch a hint of satisfaction is his grey eyes. “Do you… come here often?”

Chrollo blinks, once then twice. He raises a brow. “Pardon me?”

“You know… do you hang out here frequently?”

Confusion grows on his face, but he quickly recovers. “No. I don't.” A few moments of silence pass and he speaks up with a sigh. “You're completely clueless about the circumstances, aren't you?”

Embarrassment heats up your cheeks and you look down at your shoes as you nod. Nervousness makes you bite your lip. You were about to be who-knows-what by Raaz before Chrollo strolled in casually. Speaking of, where's Raaz? You turn around, eyes falling onto Raaz lying on the floor and a hat discarded next to him. A realisation hits you, a hand on your shoulder disturbing your thoughts.

“What do you make of this situation, [Name]? What do you think is going on?”

You carefully eye him. Not sensing a threat, you voice your thoughts. “Raaz… was involved in illegal activities. It's why he disappeared. He was running from someone too and the people he worked for promised that he'd be safe as long as he did what they asked.”

Chrollo hums. “And what did they ask of him?”

“A woman to sell off…?”

“You sound unsure,” he smiles. The hand on your shoulder slips down to your wrist, thumb massaging the skin. “He was involved in human trafficking,” Chrollo reveals. “His fiancé didn't cheat on him. She was trafficked.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, more pieces of the puzzle coming out of nowhere. Nevertheless, the most surprising thing is how Chrollo is here. The hand circled around your wrist is wiggled out of, and the question on your mind is voiced. “How are you here?”

Chrollo tilts his head at you. “I could ask you the same.” When you raise a brow at him, he chuckles. “I'm here for your coworker over there. He told you about someone who was after him. That would be me. However, I'm not after his life.”

You raise your brow higher, prompting Chrollo to continue. “You’re a Nen user, right?” When you ask him what he's talking about, he grows more confused. “You're a Nen user without the awareness of being one? Interesting.”

A hand finds its way to his chin, but Chrollo is lost in thought for only a few moments. “What do you suppose I should do with your coworker? He used to ask you out, correct?”

“Yes? Does that matter?”

“Perhaps,” he smiles.

You gulp, sensing a kind of game he's playing with you. “Don't hurt him. Hand him over to the police. They'll… they'll know what to do with him.” Your request is heard, but Chrollo does not seem to care for it because he clicks his tongue and pushes his hands into the pockets of his black trenchcoat.

Crouching down in front of Raaz, he grabs his hand and you look away. A moment later, you look again and Raaz's palm is flat against the cover of a book in Chrollo's hand. Where the hell that book came from, you have no idea.

“Now that that's done,” he says, now moving to stand, “what to do with you…”

Your blood runs cold at the question. If this situation is anything to go by, Chrollo is not any better than Raaz. In fact, he may be infinitely worse. Regardless, you still do not feel any kind of threat from him, ‘it’ being considerably less suffocating than it was the last time you had met him. Perhaps it is the lingering adrenaline that makes it seem so, but you are not afraid of him at the moment. Thus, being the person that you are, you try at making him spare you.

“Maybe,” you start, “you could, you know, let me go home. I'm not going to say or do anything. I couldn't be bothered about this. I'll take the jenny I was scammed out of and go home. Or you could keep the money if you want! As long as I get to go back home.”

Your negotiation attempt makes Chrollo think. He spends a few moments pondering over the situation, eyes still focused on you. When he parts his lips to speak, you have already prepared yourself to not be let go. “I'll let you go if you agree to meet me tomorrow evening. I suppose I can think over what to do with you in the meantime,” Chrollo says.

The offer makes you take a step back. “Really? You won't scam me like Raaz did?”

“I can make a promise if it eases your mind.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. He's smiling at you teasingly and you in no way are feeling any sense of danger from him. Begrudgingly, you agree. “Fine. Where should I meet you?”

“Give me your number. I'll send you the location.”

You make a face at the request, but surrender when he pesters you with promises of no ill will. An hour later, you are at your apartment, the bag of jenny still with you as you start planning to immediately pay off the loan you took out.

-

It is 7 pm. You stand somewhere to the side where Chrollo had asked you to come, the man in question nowhere to be seen. He asked you to come around 7 pm and you ended up getting here at 6:36 pm. It’s been 24 minutes since you’ve been standing here in wait.

Though you’ve been waiting alone with your thoughts for so long, the dread starts settling in now. It does not help that you can feel a familiar suffocating aura before you turn to look at its source casually strolling up to you on the busy street. It also does not help that your alarm had been explicitly painted on your face as soon as he was within a 6 feet radius.

“I was expecting you to not come,” he says. “This is certainly a surprise.” Chrollo smiles at you again, the curve of his lips somehow more menacing than the darkness around him. There’s a hat covering his forehead like before, you note. It seems that he certainly wants to hide the tattoo in public.

“I suppose my life is on the line. I would rather not walk around with another target on my back. You don’t seem like someone I would want after me, if Raaz’s condition was anything to go by.”

“An excellent deduction. I’m not someone you would want coming after you, at least not for your life or ability.” You gulp his clarification, proceeding to ask what he concluded for the course of action he must take. Chrollo chooses to let a few moments of silence pass, listening to the bustle on the busy street before replying, “I’ll tell you in due time. First…”

That is how almost half an hour later you are sitting at a restaurant, Chrollo across you, and a menu in front of you. What the hell is going on, you have no idea. You came here to find out if you’re going to be kidnapped or killed. Not to be taken out for dinner. When asked what you’d like to have, you insist that you aren’t hungry, something that Chrollo makes it a point to ignore as he ends up ordering for you. It is even more disorienting when it ends up being something you’ve had multiple times for lunch during the workdays.

“So,” you start, nervousness seemingly dripping from your countenance, “I suppose the final verdict will be given for dessert?” When Chrollogives no answer, you continue. “At least give me a hint. Death or imprisonment?”

He blinks at you. “It’s a surprise.” With that simple statement, he is back to observing you, one hand on the table and tracing the rim of the glass tumblr in front of him. “I hope Isasmo isn’t worried about your circumstances.”

Ah shit, he remembers. “Nope. He doesn’t know.”

“You hid everything? I suppose that’s reasonable. An axolotl wouldn’t be able to help in any way.”

Your eyes widen, heartbeat picking up. “You… how do you know?”

Chrollo’s response is simple, but it isn’t any less chilling. “You talk to him everyday.” He’s still watching you, eyes crinkling at the corners from his amused smile. It’s maddening having to be on the receiving end of this. When you do not grace him with a response, Chrollo does not say anything further as well.

The silence is excruciatingly painful. Chrollo's gaze, however, is more uncomfortable than being called out in class for an answer and not knowing it. Thus, a bright idea pops into your mind, a legendary question that easily makes any conversation better. “So,” you start, bracing yourself, “you like jazz?”

The only reaction you get is speechlessness before Chrollo clears his throat. “Not particularly. You?”

You shake your head. “Not my style.”

Resting your face in your palm, you look away, eyes anywhere but him. The surroundings seem more interesting, the two couples and a few lone people in the background having more to tell than the person you thought was going to end up hurting you. Well, it’s not your fault you got caught in the crossfire of whatever was going on.

“What,” Chrollo says, perking you up, “was your relationship with Raaz?” He’s tracing the rim of the glass again, something that bothers you because of the discrepancy between the action and his expression. Regardless, you answer truthfully. There is no guarantee he already knows and is simply testing your truthfulness.

“He was my coworker. He used to ask me out for lunch numerous times. That’s all.”

“And did you go to lunch with him?”

You shake your head. “No.” 

Chrollo simply makes a thinking face before he’s back to normal again, hands sliding underneath the table. Silence once again hangs in the air, the tension thick enough to be cut through with a knife. You are completely unaware of Chrollo’s aims and motives, yet he knows you more than you could have ever thought.

Which reminds you…

“Chrollo.” He perks up at the call of his name instantly. You continue. “Someone was most definitely coming into my apartment during my absence. Was that you?”

The smile he gave you told you everything. A groan comes from your throat, the annoyance over being paranoid and doubting yourself while being sure that something was amiss catching up. “And just why were you breaking and entering?”

He clicks his tongue. “I thought you were working with Raaz.”

“Yet when you didn’t find anything the first time, you still persisted.”

“New evidence can pop up anytime,” he shrugs.

How someone can be so nonchalant over something like this, you have no idea. Sure, you were worried at first but annoyed later on, but still!

“So have you decided what to do with me?”

After a moment of contemplation, you are given a smile and a promise to be informed of your inevitable outcome after dinner. Yet after dinner you are taken to a nearby pier with no sign of the final verdict being given anytime soon. Now settled on a bench next to Chrollo, the little distance between you both resulting from your death glares whenever he slid close to you, you decide to enjoy the cool breeze before asking him again.

And you do. You ask him again what he’s decided to do with you, and all you are given before the knowledge of your inevitable end is a smile and a tilted head. This is when you notice how long Chrollo’s hair is.

“I was considering an… ‘arrangement’,” he says. The words cause your heart to start beating faster. “I wouldn’t harm a hair on your head or your family if you agree.”

He pauses, gauging your reaction, and you start praying he does not turn you into some kind of personal slave. “If,” he continues, making you start fidgeting with your hands out of nervousness, “you agree, you’ll live comfortably without a care in the world.” Another pause and the anticipation grows. The sound of chatter in the background is completely mute and the wind has already stopped blowing.

“What I’m proposing is… well, you allow me to court you. I will take the necessary steps, and you simply have to accept.”

The minute Chrollo utters those words, you freeze. A reply is on the tip of your tongue, and you know it is not a wise idea yet you open your mouth anyway. “If you wanted to ask me out so badly, you could’ve just walked up to me and asked instead of threatening to kill me or my family.”

All you receive in response is a shrug before he formulates a reply. “Would you have said yes if I asked under normal circumstances?”

“No.”

“Then my point has been proven.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Maybe you should test the waters. “And what if I said no? What then?”

Chrollo leans back on the backrest, now more comfortable before he continues his negotiation with you. “Was Raaz’s predicament not enough of an example?” The wind blows again, and he leans forward, eyes on the water. “Not that I would prefer that, but you understand what I’m referring to.”

And you do understand what he’s referring to. You understand because you saw what became of Raaz. Nevertheless, you need more information to negotiate. Perhaps you might be able to find a way out during his ‘courting’. “Are you a homeowner,” you ask. “And do you live in the house you own?”

Chrollo looks at you from the periphery of his vision, suspicion making him more alert. “No, but I can purchase a home anytime.”

“Alright,” you nod. “And do you have a stable income?”

“As long as the world has treasure and resources, I will.”

“I see.” You pause, thinking of more questions to ask. “What about family?  How much family do you have? Any siblings?”

“None,” he replies, “Any other questions?” He’s looking at you directly now. “Or would you like to leave some things to be discovered later on?”

You purse your lips at the comment. So he has money and no family. Sounds mighty suspicious or concerning. Depends how you look at it. You’re looking at it both ways. Silence settles once again as you think over what to say next. Chrollo seems content to leave you with your thoughts, as he doesn’t make any move to break the silence.

But when the silence is broken, it is broken by your capitulation. Chrollo is pleased as expected, yet there is no sign of relief or contentment on your end. Perhaps you could purposely make the relationship fail, and then he might let you go. At the very least, this arrangement is better than having your parents and yourself hunted down by a criminal.

-

It has been 3 entire weeks since you accepted Chrollo’s conditions. Your job is going fine, boring as usual, and seeing Raaz’s replacement still reminds you of the feeling of cold metal restraining you and keeping you in place.

It’s maddening, having to relive that feeling everyday. However, what’s worse is seeing Chrollo inside your apartment numerous times a week, mostly when you come home from work. He hasn’t made a move to stay the night yet, always excusing himself to ‘work’ or saying something along the lines of you not being ready for that step. It’s not that you’re ungrateful for it, but you don’t like being indirectly told that he pulls the strings and holds the power.

That’s why you’re here. Everything in the past several weeks has led to this and the tension and stress of those weeks has boiled down to reveal someone very tired and just a little spiteful. You knew he was someone to stay away from, and you did stay away from him. Or tried to at least.

“You said you wanted to speak to me about something?”

The devil has voiced your intentions, and you are now obliged to jump straight to the point. Having just got off work, you’re tired and a bit annoyed due to the lack of proper sleep. Despite that, you suck in a breath, continue strolling with him in the park, and give your response. 

“We should break up,” you say, a sense of finality in your words that conveys your message that you shan’t be swayed in your decision. “Or stop this, considering this isn’t a normal relationship.” You had refused to hold his hand today, saying you want to keep them shoved into your pockets since they’re cold. They are currently sweating. “I don’t love you, and I don’t feel any bit comfortable. Continuing this would just make the both of us miserable.”

The break up dialogue sounded better in the TV shows you’ve watched, but you let it slide and continue. “Let’s just… see other people, okay? You’re probably just lonely. You said you have no family, and I can’t be the replacement. I don’t feel it working. I don’t feel loved and I sure as hell can’t love back.”

There is silence before Chrollo stops in front of you. He turns, facing you, and you are suddenly reminded of the children playing nearby and your bag being on his shoulders. “Is it because you remember the circumstances? If that’s the case, I can make you forget them.”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant.” You flex your sweating palms inside your pockets, nervousness skyrocketing. “I just… it’s not working Chrollo.” There is desperation in your voice now. “You may find this arrangement fulfilling, but it’s not the case for me. I don’t even know what you do for a living! I don’t know your last name and-” You cut yourself off. You’ve gone off-topic.

“What I’m saying is,” you continue, “I’m certain this isn’t working out. We should go our separate ways.”

Silence once again settles, but it is soon broken by the sound of footsteps. With your head down, you see Chrollo’s shoes when he walks up to you. A hand on your chin raises your head to meet his eyes, and you gulp out of nervousness when his lips part to speak. “The condition was that I would court you and you would accept. There was no room for rejection to begin with.”

He pauses, looking for any reaction on your face. When he fails, he continues. “If you don’t feel loved, you should communicate instead of breaking up. A relationship thrives when both parties communicate, right?”

You brush off his hold, lips twisting in slight disgust. “You aren’t getting my point-”

“Explain it to me then.”

“I just did.”

“Your argument lacks claim and reason. It isn’t even an argument to begin with.”

A frustrated groan and you bring your hands out of your pockets. With a few slaps to your cheeks, you try again. “I don’t like you and I can’t stand you. If this wasn’t something that came as a result of what happened to Raaz and I met you as a stranger and ‘it’ wasn’t as creepy as it was, I might’ve given you the time of day but none of it happened!” Chrollo looks at you like you’ve grown two heads during your outburst, but you do not care. “Chrollo, you creep me out and I don’t like you. I can’t accept you and fall in love with you. What more do you not understand?”

He blinks, once then twice, before grabbing your shoulders. The action makes you freeze, the suffocating feeling from ‘it’ growing and becoming more visible and menacing now prevailing. “Elaborate on ‘it’.” The grip on your shoulders slides down to your arms but you do not feel any less threatened. Maybe that’s why he never stayed the night. You’re too frightened at times.

“There’s… something around you.” Revealing this feels wrong, but you know you have no choice now. “It’s dark, the darkest I’ve seen yet on any person. It’s scary and overwhelming and I don’t like it. Sometimes it’s calm and tolerable and sometimes it’s huge. It doesn’t have anything to do with emotions, or that’s what I think.”

Chrollo hums, letting you go. ‘It’ does not simmer down until a few more minutes pass, and he only speaks after it does. “It’s your Nen ability. You cannot see Nen, but your ability is an exception.”

“What do you mean?”

Chrollo glances around before stepping closer. He points to his right palm with his eyes and in a moment, a book suddenly just appears in his hold. Any questions on your end are silenced with the excuse of being in a public space. The only answer you get that evening is that the book is Chrollo’s ability.

Any further probing is told off immediately. Chrollo does not wish to say anything further, changing the topic promptly and continuing to converse like you did not just attempt to break up with him. The lingering fear from his threats slowly starts seeping in, and you once again grow bewildered over how your circumstances have changed.

-

You're in the kitchen when Chrollo says you need to pack your bags. He had gotten up from the living room sofa and strolled into the kitchen when he broke the news. Now, as he stands in front of you, your back to the counter, and recounts the essentials you need to pack, you blankly nod. Everything is a blur. You cannot control your actions, only watch them like a third party.

He turns his back to you now, sighing at your silence, but before he can take a step forward, you plunge a knife into his back. The silence is deafening, but when you pull out the blade to see your handiwork, you are greeted with only a handle.

The blade sits in Chrollo's palm, and he's looking directly at you.

All your muscles are frozen, and you cannot discern whether the ringing in your ears is from the adrenaline or from being stared down. Minutes pass this way, and it is only when you throw the handle somewhere to the side that it subsides.

“Pack the essentials,” Chrollo says, his voice cutting through the silence. You’re now noticing the TV is turned off. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”

You just noticed Chrollo’s palm is unscathed. How odd.

#yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucifer x reader #yandere hunter x hunter

[skzfairyyydreamz]

hi!! Ik this isnt very cheerful for ur early request😭 but if u r doing headcannons can i request straykids w an s/o whoes insecure maybe about like acne?? 🫶

Bf!Skz when s/o is insecure about acne❣️

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Bf!Skz x gn!reader

A/n: Sorry for the wait with this one my love i’ve been a bit busy but i hope you enjoy! Feedback, replies, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! To anyone who may be struggling with acne, skin issues/disorders etc know that your beauty grows from the inside. so don’t ever let something temporary define you. You are so loved. Thank you for being here. Sending big hugs to all who need it right now. 🫂❤️ ~Fae 🧚🏽‍♀️ (M.Lists)

(dm’s requests and taglist are open!!)

© Skzfairyyydreamz - Plagiarism is a crime. Do not repost, alter, translate or copy without my consent.

Chan

Channie is Definitely the “i know you better than you know yourself” kind of Bf so he notices everything about you. Especially when you aren’t happy with yourself.

Physically not being able to sit back and watch you look at yourself in the mirror with disgust; he walks over to you and pulls you away from the mirror.

“Stop that” “stop what?” you immediately respond trying to walk past him avoiding eye contact as if your mind wasn’t racing a mile a minute with negative thoughts about yourself.

quickly pulling you into a tight embrace “C’mere you know you can’t hide from me my love” he says in a soft whisper as he began pressing kisses to your head and the side of your face. You then realize there was no escaping this conversation.

“You are so, SO beautiful and you literally have no idea.” You hug him back burying your face into his chest as your eyes start to water still refusing to look him in the eyes. “but i don’t feel beautiful channie… my skin looks so nasty right now” “it doesn’t matter honey, it’s temporary. Acne comes and goes, its natural bc you’re a human. You’re MY human and a little breakout isn’t going to change the way that i love you or the amazing person that you are. so don’t let it change the way you feel about yourself.”

After a few moments of silence Finally lifting your head up to look at him properly for the first time that morning, you see a smirking chan as he takes his thumb wiping away your tears “oh if only you could see yourself through my eyes darling… ”

Lee Know

is also SUPER quick to notice when you’re judging yourself.

i definitely see Lee know being an aggressive lover so off the rip he is not having it if his s/o is feeling ugly and unhappy with themselves.

Will definitely force you to do self love affirmations.

Standing in the mirror together as he hugs you from behind “Chin up .. now repeat after me…”

on the days you really struggle he is patient but very firm with you bc he is such a loverboy and will NOT accept ANYONE speaking down on the love of his life , not even yourself.

“Go on jagi … say it. We’re not moving until you love yourself!”

Changbin

Soft binnie ofc is very understanding and will also reassure you.

will let you rant and complain about how you feel listening carefully without interrupting.

Will definitely kiss all your breakouts and blemishes.

“Dont worry baby give it 2 weeks tops you wont even remember it was here.”

constantly reminds you how beautiful you look at random times during the day.

“Acne is temporary but my love is forever” he aggressively covers your face in kisses as you fall into a fit of giggles.

Yes .. very cheesy in his true cute binnie fashion lols

Hyunjin

will spoil you ROTTEN to the core.

the very second you complain about the smallest breakout he’s already on the phone booking you facials and skin treatments at a luxury spa.

You come home from work to see a huge gift basket on the kitchen counter overflowing with expensive skincare products. Facial cleansers, serums, toners, oils, spf’s, moisturizers, you name it, its in there.

“Jinnie .. baby what is all this??” “if my honey wants clear skin, then thats what you’ll get” “i swear i don’t deserve you” you say with teary eyes

“wait wait dont cry yet i have something else for you” “HUH??” in confusion and disbelief you watch hyunjin run off and return with a canvas. He turns it around and its a painting of you with the most beautiful flowers blooming from your face in the exact same spots you began to breakout a few days prior.

Han

Another aggressive lover.

you start pouting to him about your skin and it somehow turns into a mini lecture.

“Jagi your acne is flaring up again bc you’ve been too stressed out. how may times do i have to ask you to leave that fuck ass job and just let me take care of you!? “But ji-” “And you stress eating all this junk food isn’t helping either!”

he’s definitely holding you accountable for eating cleaner and making sure you drink enough water throughout the day

And if you fail to do so he is definitely on your ass about it! 😂

Felix

Lix is very comforting when you come to him in actual tears the day before a red carpet fashion event you two were attending together. “lix i cant go like this, look at my fucking face??” “Hun it’s really not as bad as you think, i promise.” “it is lix! i dont know how to cover this up” you began to cry again “would you feel better if i called Maya to come give you a professional full glam for tomorrow?” he reassures you hugging you tight and rubbing your back while already reaching for his phone to text his makeup artist.

But he also disciplines you about talking bad about yourself.

He has this rule where you can only make one negative comment about yourself a day. And every time you break that rule he throws one of your beloved pocket mirrors away (you had a LOT and he knew that)

“ Ew why do i-” “ EH?!? what was that!?” he glared at you with a raised eyebrow. “Gimmie me!” “But lix wait- we’re in public i need to know how my skin looks!” “idc hand it over.. you look beautiful and since you cant be nice to yourself now you’ll just have to take my word for it.” he cut you off with his hand out.

accepting your defeat you sigh loudly closing the compact mirror putting it in his hand and pouting as he got up with a smirk walking away to throw your 5th mirror this week in the trash

Seungmin

much like seungmin you are very strong and independent, you keep your “burdens” to yourself trying not to complain too much or trouble anyone with your issues. Especially if you are insecure about them.

but minnie knows when you’re struggling.

he knows you get a bit agitated when you dont feel your best and thats when you begin to distance yourself a bit more.

His love language being acts of service he would do small things for like make you natural homemade remedies like his mom used to do for him anytime your skin would flare up real bad.

after getting out of the shower still pouty from a long grumpy day, “here” he hands you a spray bottle. “ What’s this min? ”

“Aloe vera face mask” he says simply giving you a kiss on the forehead and walking away not wanting to make you feel bad for bringing up something he knows you’re insecure about.

i.n

whenever you’re breaking out jeongin does everything he possibly can to keep his lover happy.

he will definitely help you create a WHOLE NEW skincare routine.

he’s working overtime researching different products and the ingredients that would work best with your skin type.

even tho you are not happy about your acne he thoroughly enjoys your new way of spending quality time together.

“you know you don’t have to make this an US thing, right? Your skin already looks great” “how about you mind your little business and pass me the toner” you try to hold back a laugh as your sassy boyfriend stared you down through the mirror of your shared bathroom.

buying and trying a ton of new skincare products together.

rating which ones you liked best and which ones didn’t work at all for you.

he will even book you an appointment to see a dermatologist if you need to and ofc he’s gonna be going with you!

Taglist: @hanniemylovelyquokka @milknhoneyracha @tinyelfperson @jiisungllvr @turtledove824 @laylasbunbunny

#skzfairyyydreamz #skzfairyyy #skz #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz headcanons #stray kids headcanons #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz comfort #stray kids comfort #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz fic #stray kids fic #kpop fic #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #skz requests #stray kids requests #skz channie #skz lee know #skz changbin #skz hyunjin #skz han #stray kids felix #stray kids seungmin #stray kids i.n #felix fluff #chan fluff

[lvrhughes]

Most Gorgeous | J. Drysdale

pairing: Jamie Drysdale x gn!reader

summary: When feeling insecure, Jamie is there to help.

word count: 0.5k

warnings: none?

requested: yes

not my gif!

“You almost ready?” Jamie’s voice came from downstair, calling you for dinner with his team. Your body stood in front of the mirror, one Jamie had ensured lived in his room after you admitted how much you liked it once.

Tears threatened to cover your cheeks, the reflection staring back at you as you choked back a sob. Hands reaching up to wipe the tears away before answering Jamie, clearing your throat to ensure he wouldn’t hear your emotion.

“Yeah Jam, I’ll be down in a minute.” The last word cracking, your hands moving to cover your mouth, willing that he’d simply ignore it.

That was never the case. Jamie would always do everything in his power to ensure you were okay, he was always observant listening to your voice crack as you answered, listening to the shift of the floorboards are your arms moved.

His body moved faster than his mind, leading him back up the stairs, opening to door to his room without second thought. The image of your staring in the mirror, tears soaking your waterline as you covered your mouth met him. His eyes softening at the sight, his arms opening quickly as he approached your frame, wrapping them around you.

“Oh baby, what’s wrong?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“Why me?” Your voice was quiet, barely audible but he heard.

Cocking his head in confusion, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror.

“What are you talking about? Why you? Baby, because your the most gorgeous human I’ve ever met and beyond looks you are so fucking perfect.”

“But I’m not! Jamie, look at me.” The tears that had clouded your eyes fell, covering your cheeks in soft streaks.

“I am looking at you,” His hand shifted on your body, holding your waist to keep your body pressed against his while he held eye contact through the mirror. “You are the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen and this outfit looks so fucking amazing on your baby, if you saw what I do you’d agree and even if you weren’t the hottest person to ever exist,”

His words bring a stubble smile to your face as he spoke.

“You are such an amazing person, baby your so kind and just fucking perfect I wish you’d see it too.” His words grew softer, his grip tightening. “Do you believe me?”

“I believe you Jamie.”

“Good because I need you to believe me when I say you are always gorgeous weather your wearing this or my sweats and a hoodie.” His hands shifted again, spinning your body to face him before pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“I believe you Jam.” He grinned the at words, pressing one more kiss to your lips before speaking once more.

“What do you think, we tell everyone I got sick and order takeout and stay in bed all night?” He grinned, waiting for you to nod before picking your body up and placing you on the bed.

“I’ll go send the message and order food, you pick a movie.” He spoke, running out of the room after in search of his phone while you smiled.

#mads writings! #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale imagine #philadelphia flyers #nhl imagine #jamie drysdale x you

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Oliver with a Twist

Aaron Hotchner has handled everything life has thrown at him, conquering courtrooms, criminals, death, divorce, fatherhood, and false imprisonment with dignity and grace. He’s a highly respected FBI agent, the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico, an accomplished prosecutor, an excellent father and friend. Ever stoic, he’s the very pillar of strength that holds his unit above ground despite their being forced to delve into the minds of the worst that humanity has to offer day in and day out. He rarely allows himself to get emotional.

And he most certainly does not get jealous.

Hotch steps through his doorway with a case file in hand, pausing mid-stride on his way to Dave’s office when he hears the words coming out of Emily’s mouth.

“So how’re you and Oliver getting along as roommates?”

“Oh, he’s just the best,” you gush, and Aaron can actually hear how radiant the smile on your face is without so much as a glance your way. “Now that I can officially call him mine, I can’t believe it took so much convincing to make it happen!”

He drops to one knee on the carpeted floor, feigning the need to tie his shoe. It’s not eavesdropping, he reasons. After all, you’re speaking freely in an open space. In fact, he’s just ensuring the well-being of his agents from afar.

Crouched on the floor.

Hidden out of sight.

“I mean, just look at this picture,” your voice carries on in a downright giddy tone.

There’s a soft gasp and then an appreciative, “He’s so handsome,” from an awestruck Garcia.

“The cutest, sweetest, most handsome guy ever,” you assert, and Aaron feels a strange stirring of warmth deep in his gut.

He’s not jealous.

“He loves to cuddle all night,” you tell the girls, receiving a chorus of dreamy sighs and supportive hums in response. “Like, seriously, once we go to bed, he has to be touching me at all times. And he especially loves sleeping on my chest.”

Aaron’s cheeks flare red hot at that last statement. Maybe, just maybe, he’s a touch jealous.

“Lose something?” A pair of Italian loafers comes into view, and Hotch’s guilt-ridden gaze lifts to meet his friend’s poorly disguised smirk. “Your dignity, perhaps?”

Not deigning to give Dave the satisfaction of a response, Aaron stands abruptly and clears his throat, then raises his voice to be heard across the bullpen. “BAU team, round table room, please. We have a case.”

—————

Just under forty minutes later, the team is settled in on the jet and finding ways to pass the time on the way to Topeka. Hotch tries to devote his attention to the case file before him, but he finds his focus straying in your direction, honing in on the smile playing at your lips while you scroll through your phone. Probably reading a text from Oliver, he thinks, shocking even himself with the vehemence with which his inner monologue spits out the name. Unbidden, his thoughts drift off to the man taking what should be his place, if he just had the guts to take a leap of faith for once in his adult life.

Does this Oliver know how you like your coffee in the morning? (A healthy splash of hazelnut creamer and two sugars, for the record.) Does he know you secretly listen to country music alone in the car even though you profess not to like it in public? He probably has no idea that you used to love line dancing in undergrad, and that your worn cowboy boots are tucked into a hidden corner of the closet in your apartment. Or how about the fact that you used to be in theater as a kid and still hum Broadway songs to yourself while you work? Your favorites are from Heathers, although if he’s not mistaken, Wicked is a close second. Has Oliver noticed the way your nose scrunches up when you smile, or the tiniest dimple that appears on your left cheek when you gnaw on your lip in concentration?

Does he know just how lucky he is to have you?

Blinking out of his stupor, Hotch notices that you’re worrying at that damn lip again and god, if he doesn’t want to-

Why are you looking at him like that?

“Aaron?” The soft smile on your face and the way your voice ticks up at the end of his name tell him that wasn’t the first time you tried to get his attention.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you wanted to see a picture of Oliver? Rossi says it’s imperative you know about the new guy in my life,” you explain with a playful rolling of your eyes.

Hotch’s gaze darts to the older man, his lips pressed together in signature disapproval because Rossi knows damn well he doesn’t want to see that. But you’re already approaching with a beautiful smile, phone in hand, and Aaron squeezes the armrest to channel his emotions anywhere but on his face, trying to prepare himself for what he’s about to see and-

It’s a cat. It’s a cute little orange tabby with white paws, soulful eyes, and a notch missing from his left ear.

“This… is Oliver,” he says rather unintelligently, and you let out a soft laugh while nodding.

“Named after ‘Oliver and Company’,” you add for his benefit, as if he didn’t already know that’s your favorite childhood animated movie. “Isn’t he just precious?”

Aaron’s truthfully always been a dog guy, but in that moment, with the way you beam at him while proudly showing off your fur baby, he decides he can learn to coexist with a cat- and maybe even come to love it one day.

“Yeah, Y/N,” he concedes, his features softening into a smile reserved just for you. “Oliver’s pretty damn cute.”

—————

🫒 Read the next part of the Oliver saga here!

[A/N: This was inspired by my little girl, Olive, and my desire for Aaron Hotchner to be her dad and my daddy 😜 Also I’m lame and I like puns 🙃

Writing this brought me much joy, and I hope it makes someone smile :)]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x y/n #bau!reader #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #criminal minds fanfiction

[dulcesiabits]

do you like me?, p.4.

summary: a collection of requested drabbles for a anniversary celebration for my blog, taken from two prompt lists! (ft. ace, riddle, azul, jade, floyd, ruggie, leona, kalim, jamil, vil, (platonic) ortho, silver, lilia, malleus).

info: 3.9k words, drabbles, fluff, angst

Ace Trappola

❛ don’t go where i can’t follow. ❜

Ace doesn’t even realize the words are out of his mouth until you turn to him in surprise, a cheeky grin tugging at your lips.

“What’s this? Scared I’m going to leave for alchemy class without you?”

Ace shrugs. There’s an urge to agree with you and pass his words off as a silly joke, to ignore whatever moment of vulnerability overtook him. After all, it was you he was talking about. Fearless, kind, clever. Always with a solution to every predicament he and your other friends ended up in.

But you were still a magicless human, thrown into situations most grown mages would tremble at. And sometimes, you’re so busy running towards the next adventure, he’s afraid that you’ll slip through his fingers.

“I mean it,” Ace said, ignoring your gaze. “If you’re going to do something stupid, don’t forget to bring me along.”

“I only do stupid things when I’m with you, don’t worry,” you tease. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving Ace Trappola behind.”

He rolls his eyes. Typical. He would simply have to run faster to keep up with you.

❛ wait, you think I'm cute? ❜

Ace was the last person who should have ever heard you say that you think he was cute.

And yet, because of your wonderful luck, there he stands, leaning against the doorway and shooting you a smug look. You should have been paying more attention to your surroundings. But, to be fair, you had been too busy talking with Deuce on the phone to realize you had an eavesdropping visitor.

“I don’t think you’re cute,” you say immediately. “You misheard me.”

“Righttttt.” Ace drags out the word as he sits on the couch next to you. You’re studiously staring at the loose stuffing poking out of a hole from the armrest. “You don’t know any other Aces around here. Be honest.”

“I said Deuce,” you say quickly. “I said Deuce was cute, not you.”

Ace frowns. “Juice, cute? Come on, prefect. Even your taste can’t be that bad.”

“I do have bad taste if I like you,” you grumble. Now it’s your turn to look smug as Ace blinks, unable to meet your gaze.

Riddle Rosehearts

❛ I’m not giving up on you. ❜

Riddle doesn’t even look at you as you speak. You rub soothing circles into his back as he sits with his head lowered.

“I’m scared,” he says quietly. You let him gather his words, his voice fragile. “I’m scared I can’t change.”

“Change takes time, and it’s never a straightforward process. It’s okay to stumble once in a while.”

“But what if I keep stumbling? What if I hurt--”

“Then I’ll catch you,” you say firmly. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way. You’re not alone, Riddle.”

Riddle rests his head on your shoulder. For your part, all you do is put an arm around him, reassuring him with your touch.

❛ how about a kiss before i go? ❜

You tap your cheek, watching Riddle’s face blush like one of the roses he tends to. He darts his eyes around the common room, but most people aren’t paying attention to the two of you.

“You aren’t going to give me one?” You give him your best puppy dog eyes, and Riddle deflates. You know he’s weak to you, even if he doesn’t like to admit it.

“Just one,” he says, and moves in quickly to peck your cheek, so fast you could mistake it for a breeze.

“Thank you, my love,” you tease. Before he has time to move away, you turn and give him a kiss on his cheek, making sure to let your lips linger. “That’s for-- Riddle? Riddle?? Are you okay?”

❛ i can be your family. ❜

Riddle says it so casually that you almost miss it. Cater nudges Trey, who’s giving Riddle an appraising stare.

The four of you were studying for exams together, although Cater treated it like a gossip session, and Trey didn’t seem to be too bothered by his grades. You tried to take it seriously, if only to spare Riddle a headache.

“Er, Riddle?” you say tentatively. “Did you...”

“What?” Riddle looks up from his textbook, blinking. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Because you basically just proposed to the prefect!” Cater chimes in. “I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Riddle.”

“What are you--” Riddle’s eyes widen, and it seems like the words he just uttered hit him all at once. “Cater! That was-- I was simply suggesting... if the perfect couldn’t get back home, then my doors would always be open to them--”

“Sounds like Riddle has a crush,” Cater says teasingly. “Don’t forget to send us a wedding invitation!”

“Cater, no--” Trey begins, but it’s too late.

“Off with your head!”

Azul Ashengrotto

❛ why are you avoiding me? ❜

The lilt of his voice is even, the words rolling smoothly across his tongue. Not even a tremor escapes as Azul corners you in the hallway after school.

"Azul, I need to get to class,” you say, looking down at your feet. So he’s not even worth looking at anymore, huh?

“You have five minutes before class begins.”

“Azul--”

“That’s enough time to answer my question.”

“It’s over, Azul,” you say plainly. “Whatever there was between us is gone, so I want you to leave me alone.”

No hesitation, no emotion; you say it as gently as you can, and it still hits him like a truck. You look at him now, nothing but indifference and pity and a bit of annoyance in your eyes.

Azul doesn’t stop you as you step around him. His nails dig into his palm. No one is around to watch as the world crumbles beneath his feet.

❛ you don’t mean that. ❜

“I do,” you say. “Let’s break up.”

“Why? What did I do? Was it the date? Did you not like it? Or is it because we haven’t been spending time together? I can ask Jade to watch over Mostro--”

“Azul.” You hold up a hand, and his tirade of words breaks at the gesture, like a river parting around a stone. “I don’t want to drag this out. It’s nothing you did.”

“Then why--” His voice cracks, and he has never hated himself more. “Why are you leaving?”

“I’m just not interested anymore. We’re not that compatible. I really like you, I do, but... not in that way. I’m sorry, Azul. You can find someone better.”

You wait for him to respond, and when he doesn’t, you leave.

❛ how about a kiss before i go? ❜

Azul doesn’t look at you as he says the words, but the red tinge on his ears is all you need to see.

“One kiss? What do I get out of it?” you ask, pretending to tap a finger against your chin in contemplation.

“Are you trying to make a deal with me?”

“I learned from the best.”

“Well…” Azul takes a breath. “In the interest of fairness, may I offer you a kiss in exchange?”

You laugh, tugging on the lapels of his coat to pull him closer to you. “I think that sounds more than fair! What happens if I want more than one kiss, though?”

“I would be open to further negotiations,” he says, and you lean in to peck his cheek.

“It’s a deal, then.”

Jade Leech

❛ It's just a scratch, don't worry. ❜ 

“A scratch?” Jade says slowly. “My. I think you and I have markedly different opinions for what counts as a scratch.”

“Jade—”

Jade’s hand smoothly grips the underside of your arm, gently pulling it up so he can look at the bandages peeking from under your shirt sleeve.

“Prefect,” he says calmly, “How big is this wound?”

“Not too big.”

Jade clicks his tongue, but doesn’t let go. “Please go see professor Crewel about this. If he tells you to take any medicine, then be sure not to skip a single dosage. I’ll be back to check in on you.”

“Huh? Where are you going?”

Jade’s smile gleams a little too brightly. “To talk to Azul, of course. I want to see if he knows about any physical altercations that’ve occurred on campus.”

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜ 

You say the comment without thinking, and Jade’s arms tighten around you. Your ear is pressed right against his chest; it’s hard to hear anything else.

“If it’s beating fast, then the reason why might be because a certain Ramshackle prefect acted quite recklessly.” His lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. He smells like a fresh, salty sea breeze.

“I didn’t realize I was going to trip right into a monster, to be fair. You don’t really expect to see those on hikes.”

“You need to go hiking more.”

“... What sort of hikes do you go on?”

He rests his chin on the top of your head. You’re hiding in the shadows of a brush, where Jade has pulled you into after the monster you’d disturbed had chased you two. You’re not sure you need to be quite so close to Jade, but he keeps insisting you press closer for safety reasons.

“I go on quite a lot of hikes. I’ll have to take you out more.” You wonder why his heart is beating so fast; is it really because of the monster hunting you down, or is it something else?

❛ oh, now you care? ❜

"Is that a problem?” Jade asks. With his cordial tone and raised eyebrow, he makes you feel like you’re unreasonable.

“It is.”

“I don’t see an issue with worrying over my classmate--”

You let out a sharp laugh. “Classmates, huh? That’s all our relationship is, isn’t it?”

“Why, yes. You made it quite clear that’s all you want our relationship to be.“

“It is, so drop the act. As a classmate, you don’t have the right to get involved in my life anymore.”

“Prefect.” You turn, ignoring the call of your name. Jade doesn’t chase after you, doesn’t drop the pretense or faux politeness, and it makes you sick. Still, with each step away from Jade, you feel the weight of his gaze on your back.

What are you to him now? Something to be hunted down, a problem to be solved, or a puzzle he’s going to turn over and over until he can slot you perfectly into the right place?

Floyd Leech

❛ you don’t mean that. ❜

“Hah? Who do you think you are?” Worse than anger, worse than excitement, is Floyd’s boredom. His complete disinterest makes you shrink; he won’t even look at you, gazing somewhere over the top of your head.

“Floyd, you can’t say something--”

He rolls his eyes. “So?”

“It’s not okay--”

“Why does it matter? You’re not the one I’m talking to, right?”

“I just don’t want you to get in trouble--”

“I don’t care.”

“Floyd--”

“I don’t want to hear you lecture me. It’s annoying.”

Floyd doesn’t meet your eyes once as he jumps down the stairwell, skipping two or three steps at a time. You open your mouth, ready to remind him to be careful, before you think better of it. You weren’t someone he was going to listen to anymore.

❛ you're lucky that you're cute. ❜

Floyd’s grin is menacing with how wide it is. Already you’re starting to regret your word choice as Floyd wraps you in his arms, squeezing you so tight it’s just shy of being uncomfortable.

“You think I’m cute, shrimpy?”

“Not really--”

“You can’t take it back.”

“Floyd--”

“Hm?”

You sigh, leaning into his touch. “Okay, you’re sort of cute. A little bit! So you’re lucky I’m not mad over you and Grim trashing the living room.”

“We were just having a bit of fun! If it bothers you that much, shrimpy, I can make him clean it up.”

“... You’re not going to?”

“Why would I? It’s more fun to spend time with you.”

You close your eyes. You had a feeling you would have a hard time getting mad at him no matter what he did from now on.

Ruggie Bucchi

❛ relationships are built on trust, and i trust you. ❜

“You trust me? Ruggie Bucchi trusts me?” you say with exaggerated surprise, scrunching your face at him. He hadn’t meant for the words to come out at all, but you had a habit of making him say things he normally wouldn’t.

“Don’t make me take it back,” Ruggie warns, moving to sandwich your cheeks between his hands. You puff your lips out, and he snickers.

“What did I do to deserve such a compliment?”

“You’re a good partner, ‘s all.”

“I’m just a good partner?”

“You’re the best partner I could ever have,” he contends, squeezing your nose once before letting go of your face. “Now, stop fishing for compliments and help me carry these groceries back to the dorm.”

❛ Nope, puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time! ❜ 

“Why not? They’ve always worked before,” Ruggie says. You can’t look at him; you know the second you do, you’ll cave into his demands and he’ll get his way. Curse his fluffy ears and cute, droopy eyes.

Ruggie moves to stand in front of you, but you turn your head to the left. When he moves to the left, you turn your head to the right.

“Come on!” Ruggie says, throwing his hands up. “Are you going to avoid me forever?”

“Yes. As long as you insist on trying to scam our classmates, then—”

“It’s not a scam,” Ruggie interrupts. “We’re just not being fully honest about the actual price of these drinks.”

“That’s a scam!”

“I’ll take you somewhere nice with the money. We can visit the town near campus, go to a fancy restaurant for once.”

“…”

“I’ll give you half of the profits?”

You wheel around to flash him a brilliant smile. “50%? I’m lucky I have such a generous partner. I’d love to work with you.”

Ruggie rolls his eyes. “Oh, so it’s not okay for me to scam our classmates, but it’s okay for you to toy with my heart and trick me— hey, cut it out with the puppy dog eyes!”

❛ You look awful. ❜ 

“Thanks.” You don’t lift your head from the desk as Ruggie utters the words, keeping your eyes closed.

“What, no backtalk?” There’s a rustle of clothing and a creak from one of the desks. Ruggie most likely hopped up to sit on one of them. “Did something happen?”

“There was an emergency in the kitchens this morning, and you’ll never guess who got woken up at the crack of dawn to wrangle some fairies into behaving.”

“Let me guess. You?”

“Bingo,” you groan. “And we had a test in magic history today—”

“Ow.”

“— Ace and Deuce picked a fight with some Pomefiore students, and now we have to write a five page essay on what we did wrong—”

“Double ow.”

“It’s just not a good day.”

Something touches on your back. It’s Ruggie’s hand, and he strokes soothing circles as he leans down to whisper to you. “Hey, listen. If you’re tired, why don’t we go get snacks from Sam’s? We can go back to Ramshackle, and turn on a movie or somethin’. Grab a blanket and cuddle up. Sounds like a plan?”

“… are we getting the food with Leona’s credit card?”

“We are getting it with Leona’s credit card,” Ruggie affirms.

You tilt your head to look up at him, trying to hide your smile. “You sure know how to cheer people up, Ruggie Bucchi.”

Leona Kingscholar

❛ do you want me to leave? ❜

Leona almost snarls “yes” before he registers who’s asking him that question. It’s you. He bites back his words, cracking open one eye to stare at you haughtily.

“If you want.”

You sigh, walking over until you drop onto the grassy knoll beside him. The wind stirs, causing the dappled shadows of the trees above you to shift.

You don’t ask him any questions. You don’t nag, chide, or scold him. Maybe that’s why he never hides when he knows you’re the one approaching him.

“Lend me your lap,” he says bluntly.

“Is that all I am to you? A pillow?” Despite your words, you still move to fold your legs underneath you.

Leona lifts himself enough to drop his head on your lap. “Yeah. A pretty good one.”

What can he do to get you to come around more often?

Kalim Al-Asim

❛ how about a kiss before i go? ❜

You’re not sure how anyone in the world could resist Kalim when he looked at them with such a sweet, pleading expression. You, for one, were definitely not one of those who could.

“Of course,” you say, leaning to peck his cheek.

Kalim laughs, flinging his arms around you. “Yay! You’re the best. I’ll see you after class, okay?”

He runs off, pausing to turn around and wave at you energetically. However, he skids to a stop, and then runs right back into your arms.

“I almost forgot,” he says breathlessly, “you need a good-bye kiss, too!” Kalim plants a gentle kiss on your cheek. “I’ll come get more kisses after class!”

Jamil Viper

❛ there it is, there’s that smile! ❜

Jamil starts, face heating up, as he hears your teasing voice echo through the empty gym. All his club mates had filed out a long time ago. Only he had stayed behind to practice a bit more.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbles, wiping the sweat off his forehead with one quick move. “Don’t you have clubs to attend?”

“I got off early,” you quip. “I wish you looked as happy to see me as you did playing basketball.”

Jamil rolls his eyes, moving closer to you stealthily until he can press a kiss to your cheek. “I do like you more than basketball.”

You stick your tongue out at him, moving away. “You’re sweaty!”

“... Or maybe not.”

Vil Schoenheit

❛ Who did this? ❜

“Don’t worry, Vil. My face will heal--”

Vil’s scowl darkens as he steps closer to you, towering over you in his sharp  stilettos. You step back until Vil presses you against a wall, tilting your chin up with a perfectly manicured hand. He smells like lavender, you think dazedly.

“My sweet potato... do you really think I’m worried about your appearance at a time like this?” he says coolly. “I asked who did this to you.”

“It was an accident--”

“I know accidents when I see one. This looks like it was done on purpose.” A slim finger ghosts across the bruise on your cheek, and you shiver.

“I-- It was an accident. I bumped into someone, and--”

“So it was a fight?” he says slowly. “What dorm were they from?”

“I’m-I’m not sure.”

Vil clicks his tongue. “You don’t remember? Well, no matter. I have my own methods to find out who did this.”

Ortho Shroud

❛ you’re my family too. ❜

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Ortho’s expression flicker across so many different conflicting emotions so quickly: frustration, worry, sadness, affection.

He holds your swollen ankle gently, mumbling about medical terminology so advanced you can barely understand a word. After a while, he releases a roll of bandages and starts wrapping them firmly around your ankle.

“Ortho, I’m sorry-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.

“I don’t want an apology! I’m just... I don’t want to lose anyone I care about,” he says. “So you have to take better care of yourself, okay? Please don’t get into any more fights.”

“Okay, okay.” You reach out to ruffle his hair, the warm flames tickling your palm. “I have to set a good example for my little brother, after all.”

Silver

❛ It's just a scratch, don't worry. ❜ 

“You’re bleeding! That is more than a scratch,” you scold, rolling Silver’s sleeve up to his shoulder to examine the gash on his arm. It was your fault for not paying attention until the blot monster was almost on you; if it hadn’t been for Silver’s quick reflexes, you would have died.

He leans forward, and you startle, thinking he’s falling. But Silver just rests his head on your shoulder, strands of hair tickling your cheek. “It’s okay. As long as you’re safe, then I can survive a thousand injuries.”

“Well,” you say with a sigh. “I’d prefer you not to get injured at all, prince charming.”

“I’d rather be your knight, not your prince,” he replies, and you loosen your tie to wrap it around his wound. “And I’ll protect you as long as you get in dangerous situations. But... I will try to get stronger so you won’t have to worry over me like this.”

❛ was that your first kiss? ❜

Silver’s eyes are hooded, his cheeks the same color of the dawn sky as he stares your lips. He doesn’t acknowledge your question. Maybe he didn’t hear you?

“Silver, was that--”

“It was,” he interrupts, blinking slowly. He’s dazed, and you wonder if even you could take him down in such a state. “It was my first kiss.”

“Oh! In that case, was it okay? Do you, um, need a break? Was I too rough--” Before you can finish, Silver cups your chin in his hand, his thumb so close to your bottom lip that you can feel the warmth from his skin.

“Can we do that again?” he asks quietly, and all you can do is nod as he brings his face closer.

Lilia Vanrouge

❛ It's just a scratch, don't worry. ❜

“Just a scratch?” Lilia tuts in disapproval, poking your forehead. “I’ve seen scratches before, and this could not be considered a scratch.”

“Lilia--” You try to sit up, but the cast on your leg makes moving harder than it used to be.

Lilia pokes you again until you lie down. “No arguing. You’re going to stay in the nurse’s office until you feel better.”

“Are you going to skip class to nurse me back to health?” you ask, batting your eyelashes.

Lilia chuckles. “Well... It is Magic of History, and I think Trein is a little too young to be telling me about the past. Now...” He brings the blankets up to your chin, pressing a kiss to your forehead on the spot where he previously poked you. “Rest. I want to stay with you for a very, very long time, and you have to be in top form for that to happen.”

Malleus Draconia

❛ there it is, there’s that smile! ❜

If Sebek was anywhere around, he would slay you for what you were going to do. Luckily, it’s just you and Malleus, so you pinch his cheeks gently, stretching them out like taffy.

“Child of man, what is this?”

When you let go, you see that a smile blooming on his face as he looks at you in amusement and adoration.

“Nothing. Just trying to cheer you up,” you say. “You look cuter when you smile.”

Malleus’s gloved hand reaches out to stretch at your cheeks, pulling them out, ignoring your muffled protests. “I think you look cuter when you smile, too.”

#liya writes #twisted wonderland #ace trappola #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech #ruggie bucchi #leona kingscholar #jamil viper #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #ortho shroud #silver #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x reader

[sugurus-fave-monkey]

Soul Snared

I do not know exactly what possessed me to write this. It was supposed to be a little Drabble but I got carried away. This is my first time writing anything of the sort soooo. Pairing is Mahito x Reader, and I guess this could be monster fucking (I think)

TW/CW: 18+MDNI, Mahito is his own warning, Geto mentioned and appears briefly. jealousy, Non con / dubious consent, spit, tentacles, choking, slapping, restraints, orgasm denial, orgasm, fingering, the tentacles cum, breeding, belly bulge, degradation, predator/prey, oral, vaginal sex, anal sex, deep throating, lots of tongue, shape shifting, dead dove do not eat, fr though this is a lot,not proofread, made on mobile, if there’s more I should mention please let me know.

Word count >2500

NSFW under the cut

Mahito had been the one to find you. He knew not a thing about you, but Geto had said you could be beneficial to them, so he had sought you out. Geto had instructed him to tail you for a while, but Mahito lacked the patience for that, so when he cornered you in an alleyway and you paralyzed his puppets without breaking a sweat, he knew why Geto had targeted you.

Rather than him having to subdue you, you had came along willingly, babbling about how the other sorcerers pissed you off, and you were tired of them having their heads up their asses. Mahito paid attention, always trying to improve his knowledge of humans.

He had observed, how upon entering Dagon’s domain your eyes had widened at the sight of Geto, rushing over to him, practically foaming at the mouth. Geto reassuring you that he was, very much, alive. The overjoyed expression on your face when you found out that your best friend, your mentor, was still alive. And Mahito felt something stir inside him, something new. Was it anger?

For weeks, Mahito watched as the two of you left together to do recon, unsure of how to process what he was feeling. He would lounge on the beach chair, trying to focus on whatever book he was reading. He had thought that if he had captured you, he would be the one to accompany you, after all, he needed to learn more about humans. Why should Geto always be the one with you, when he was human as well? He would try to ignore the rage he felt inside of him, when you and Geto would come back, your hair a mess, Geto’s robes undone, and you giggling, while Geto’s hand rested on your shoulder seemingly guiding you.

Finally Mahito was told the two of you would be working together, with your base of operations being the sewers. That was Mahito’s element, underground, rather than the sun beating down on him heavily. He had left ahead of you, having been told that Geto needed to tell you more specifics.

You had made your way down to the sewers, squinting your eyes to adjust to the gloom, Geto had given you some sort of drink to help block the smell, and you were thankful. Your footsteps echoed off the walls as you made your way closer to where Mahito would be. You finally reached him, he was lying on a concrete slab, his arms folded under his head.

He watched as you pulled out your phone, waiting for whoever you were calling to answer.

“Yup. I found him.” A small smile curled on your lips. “Yeah yeah, I know, Geto.” You giggled, and Mahito felt the rage course through his body again. “Okay got it. See you soon.” You ended the call and went to greet Mahito, but you were unable to speak.

Mahito had launched his hand at you, fingers curling around your neck, easily pushing you against the wall. “Ghaack Mah-“ was all you could muster before his fingers squeezed tighter around your throat. Tears brimmed in your eyes, as you clawed at his hand, feeling yourself get light headed.

Mahito took his time walking toward you, with a grin plastered on his face. He allowed his grip on your neck to slacken ever so slightly, allowing you to suck air into your lungs before tightening it again. His face was mere inches away from yours, you could feel the heat from his breath on your face. His eyes were filled with malice, rage, and something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. He was a curse, he wasn’t supposed to feel emotions, at least that’s what Geto had explained, while he assured you that you would be safe with Mahito. You cursed Geto in your head, and cursed yourself for listening to his honeyed words, and meeting his every order.

Your tears had finally spilled out, wetting your cheeks as you continued to struggle against the curse. However you froze up when Mahito stuck his tongue out, licking your tears away, the appendage hot on your cold skin. You shuddered as your brain practically screamed at you to subdue him, and run. You placed your hands together, ready to use your technique, but Mahito was too fast.

Two more hands sprung from Mahito, grabbing your wrists, and pinning you against the wall.

“Nice try, but you’re too slow.” Mahito taunted you. Now that he had you pinned, he released the hold on your throat, leaving you sputtering, coughing, and gasping for air.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Mahito?” You shouted. “Aren’t we on the same side?”

At that, Mahito cackled, he fucking cackled. “What do you think I’m going to kill you?” He sneered.

“If you hurt me, Geto will crush you!” You cried out.

“Geto this, Geto that!” Mahito spat. “I’m the one who found you! I’m the one that should own you!”

Realization hit you at that moment. Mahito was jealous, but that couldn’t be right. His nature was feral, more animalistic than human. You felt your stomach drop, and suddenly recognized that other emotion, it was lust. Mahito saw you as prey, and from what Geto had told you, he enjoyed toying with his prey.

You spat in his face, it was all you could do from your position, which earned you a backhand from Mahito, who smirked at you. Your ears rang, and your face felt hot where he slapped you.

“Finally caught on huh?” Mahito’s voice was icy, full of malice. “Geto’s not here to save you, so I’d suggest you do as I say. And if not, I’ll just turn you into a puppet to do with as I please. You’ll still be aware of everything, but you won’t be able to fight. Wouldn’t want that, now would you?” He giggled and stuck his tongue out.

You shook your head, too afraid to speak, nobody had ever treated you this way before.

“Ok then! Let’s get started.” Mahito said in a sickly sweet tone, before pressing his lips against yours. You gasped, and when you opened your mouth he took advantage of that, pushing his tongue into your mouth. He took his time, exploring slowly, rubbing against your canines, daring you to bite down, but he knew you wouldn’t. He had you exactly where he wanted you, and he felt the bulge in his pants beginning to grow. He pulled away for a moment giving you a second to breathe, before he was on you again, his tongue pushing its way to your throat. His tongue was long, too long, as it filled your mouth up, poking at your uvula before slowly making its way inch by inch down your throat.

You moaned around his lips, clenching your thighs together, your body betraying you. You knew Mahito had the ability to change his shape at will, but you never expected this. You gagged around his tongue, as it pulled in and out of your throat, your wrists straining against the hands that kept you bound. Mahito pulled away,his tongue slowly pulling out of your throat, only to wedge his knee between your legs. You hissed at the sensation, the friction revealing how wet you were.

“See that’s not so bad huh?” Mahito smiled at you as he let you free from your restraints. You rubbed your wrists, trying to coax some sensation back into your hands. “Why don’t you get undressed and lie down for me?”

It wasn’t a question. You slowly undressed, your shaky hands fumbling as you unclasped your bra, and slid off your panties, and you lied down upon the concrete slab, the coldness making you hyper aware of your body. You shuddered as Mahito sprang out some vine like appendages from his back. They wrapped themselves around your wrists and ankles, spreading your legs, and pulling your arms upwards.

Mahito licked his lips before walking towards you, and taking a seat, you could feel his breath on your cunt. Mahito swiped at your entrance with his index finger, before roughly shoving it inside you, causing you to yelp and buck your hips. Mahito was anything but gentle, pumping his finger in and out of you, exploring inside of you. You moaned, putting aside any anger you had. Mahito added a second finger and began to scissor his fingers inside of you.

“F-fuck feels good.” You moan out. You feel more of those things on your body, two of them circling on your tits, before they latched onto your nipples, one was seemingly biting, the other was sucking, another one made its way to your mouth, sliding in with ease, seemingly growing bigger as it slid down your throat.

Mahito groaned, as the appendage fucked in and out of your throat, he could feel everything that was connected to him, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to impale you on his cock, and fill you up fully. He replaced his fingers with his tongue, exploring your walls, hitting spots that were normally untouched. He sent a vine to your clit, making it suck on it, and rub circles.

It was too much, there were too many sensations, you gagged around the vine in your throat, and it slowly pulled out. “S’too much!” You cried.

Mahito withdrew his tongue from you, and the vines stood still. You could have cried, all of this, and the curse wouldn’t let you cum? You were about to protest, when you saw him unbuttoning his pants, and you widened your eyes. His cock was huge, thick, veiny, and had a row of stitches on it. There was no way that thing was fitting in you. Mahito pumped himself with his hand a couple times, before pressing against your folds, and you were right. The tip couldn’t fit inside. Mahito looked disappointed, and then shrugged, and right before your eyes, the girth of his dick shrank, allowing him to spear you on his length.

You cried out, as it stretched you, adjusting its size, growing inside of you. The vines resumed the roaming of your body, as Mahito thrusted into you slowly, feeling how your muscles clenched around him. He pressed down on your lower stomach, feeling himself. Your muffled moans grew louder, and he increased his speed, fucking into you roughly.

“Such a good girl, taking it all.” Mahito sneered. He felt your body tense up at his words. “Aw are you gonna cum for me? Huh? What a pathetic human, letting a curse fuck her. Go on then. Cum.”

Mahito’s degradation forced you to come undone, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, as your muscles tensed, your hips bucking wildly as you climaxed, squirting on the curse’s abdomen. Mahito pulled the vine out of your throat, allowing you to breathe fully.

“Fuck, you’re so filthy, squirting all over me. ‘M gonna fill you up, stuff you full.” Mahito groaned as his own release came closer. His balls clenched, as his cum sprayed inside you, ropes and ropes being churned from inside of him.

You allowed yourself to relax a moment, thinking it was over, that he had his fun with you, until you felt something wet against your asshole.

“N-no not there!” You squeaked out.

Mahito tsked at you, before flipping you over, onto your hands and knees, his vines locking you into position. His thrust his cock into your cunt again, and used his tentacle to slowly pry open your ass, your muscles clenching, trying to stop the intrusion. Mahito brought his hand down swiftly upon your ass, causing you to jump. “Just relax. It won’t hurt.”

What little resistance, defiance you had once possessed no longer existed. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts any more. You relaxed, and Mahito was right, the vine was warm, and coated in something slick, a moan coming from your lips, as every single part of you was stuffed full. Mahito wrapped vines around your waist, and used them to stabilize you, allowing you to collapse and be held in the air as Mahito bullied his cock and vines into you. When he would thrust in the vine would pull out. And he could expand, contract and lengthen them at will. Tears were spilling from your eyes, and drool was dripping from your mouth, forming a puddle on the slab under you.

“I told you it wouldn’t hurt. You like it huh? Being stuffed full, your body being mine to treat as I please.” Mahito taunted as he watched all your holes swallowing him up, his dick fucking his cum into you, hopefully pushing it into your womb. He quickened the pace of the vine in your mouth, pushing it deeper and deeper into your throat, before it finally released in you. As it pulled out you coughed up some of the cum it expelled into your throat.

The vine attached to your clit was pulled off, being replaced with Mahito’s thumb, roughly circling, applying just the right amount of pressure. “M-Mahito d-don’t stop.” You moaned weakly.

“Again? Alright, you can cum, but only if you tell me who you belong to.” Mahito smirked.

“Y-you! I belong to you Mahito, you own me!” You cried out, as your second release snapped, causing you to shudder, and twitch, your body relaxing completely. And as you came so did the vine fucking into your ass, filling your tight hole with cum, leaving its mark inside of you.

“Th-that’s right. Nngh f-fuck. M’ gonna breed you, give you all my cum., fill you up. You want that?” Mahito’s voice trembled, pleasure coursing through his body.

“Y-yes fuck, fill me up, please. Please breed me Mahito.” You were no longer thinking, words were just coming out of your mouth at this point.

“That’s it fuck, take it all, let me fill your womb up.” Mahito hissed as he planted his seed inside of you for a second time, and you could have sworn you felt a bulge in your belly as he fucked his cum further inside of you. You were exhausted, absolutely spent. Mahito slowly lowered you down, retracting the vines back into his body, before pulling out of you. And you slowly drifted into a deep slumber.

You awoke to the sound of hushed voices and kept your eyes closed. Your body had been covered in a blanket, and you were thankful for that.

“So you’ve found another finger?” You heard Mahito ask.

“Yes. I trust that you can carry out the plan?” That was Geto’s voice. You assumed he came to make sure you were okay.

The small talk continued, growing louder, footsteps approaching, until the two of them were standing above you.

“What’s this?” Geto asks. “Have you already started our little experiment?” Your eyes flutter open.

“Experiment?!” You move to sit up, however, vines bind you to where you’re laying.

Geto simply chuckles before he brushes his fingers over your face. “Of course. Seeing if a sorcerer can have a viable pregnancy with a curse.” He turns to Mahito. “Let me know if anything changes.”

And that’s when you notice for the first time, the stitches in his head, and you realize, whatever that is, is not Suguru Geto.

#jjk smut #jjk mahito #mahito smut #mahito #tentacles #jjk x reader smut #mahito x reader

[bubblebbg]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 (𝐚𝐫𝐞).

Upon popular request, part 2 of this post.

Miguel O'Hara x reader

It's just like old times, the two of you finding respite on the rooftop and away from the party. Miguel is glad to have you back, if not only for a moment. Unbeknownst to him, you're ready to return to how it was permanently, to do away with the obstacles of the present. Miguel is just as eager to accept you and turn back time together.

As things are starting to fall into place, he can't help but think about how all of this suits you. The warmth of your hand as you lead him up the fire escape and to the roof, the breeze in your hair, the way your laugh travels in the air. God, he's missed this, the way you smile, the light in your eyes, you and him. It's enough to nearly send him into a daze, that is until you sit on the roof's edge, beckoning him to sit with you. "You know," you say, and the familiarity of the way you speak has his full attention, "I'm sorry. I guess I didn't really think how much this all affected you. I've only really been thinking about myself."

You look at him apologetically, a timid smile on your face. He's not sure if he's supposed to have let go of your hand by now, but he doesn't want to. So he keeps your fingers interlaced, speaking softly in that tone reserved for you and only you. "That's not true. You've made time for me whenever you could, even if it hasn't been as much time as before. I didn't think you'd walk out without seeing your boyfriend."

You sigh, "I didn't think I would either."

He pauses, watching your expressions as you turn your gaze to the city again. Anyone else might think the slight shine in your eyes is the gleam of streetlights, but he knows you. Knows you like the back of his hand, and knows you're biting back tears. Miguel whispers, his hand leaving yours to tentatively wrap around your waist, "What do you mean?"

You take a moment, eyes searching windows and cars in the distance as if they might provide the answers, the words to say.

"It's funny, how things suddenly become clearer to you. This necklace," your hand goes to trace the silver gift around your neck, "The flower? I mentioned it once, almost a year ago, and you remembered it. And that made me so happy. So I thought -"

You breathe deeply, the tears breaking the surface despite your battle to keep them in. Miguel's hand instantly comes to wipe them, concern evident in his features. You let him, head resting on his shoulder.

"I thought to myself, when was the last time anyone else made me this happy? Or remembered anything? My boyfriend," you chuckle through the tears, amused and disgusted at your choice in partner, "He doesn't remember shit. I've been telling him about this birthday party for the last month and he still didn't take the time off. I bet you right now that the gift he has is something he picked up last minute that I don't even like. He's pathetic. I haven't been happy with him this entire time. And it's all clear now. I'm so, so stupid."

"Hey," Miguel soothes, "Don't say that."

"Miguel, don't lie. I'm stupid and you know it."

"Ok, maybe you're a little stupid," he teases, earning him a jab to the ribs as you both laugh. He smiles, rubbing your side while you lean into him, sniffling and giggling. "I don't think you're stupid for wanting to be loved though. It's human."

"I'm just stupid for not realizing it was supposed to be you."

His eyes widen in shock, sputtering and looking to your face with his cheeks turned red. "I-I.. you - huh?"

You laugh at that, eyes turned to your phone as you get a text notification. You show him your phone, and his already racing heart beats faster. It's filled with replies from your now ex-boyfriend, angry and scolding you for dumping him. "I broke up with him. Texted him with one hand and held yours in the other."

Miguel's smile widens, eyes meeting yours, "While we were going up the stairs?"

"Yep."

"You're ridiculous."

"You love it."

You're leaning into him, face only inches from his. He reacts in a moment's notice, eyes flickering from yours to your lips before meeting you halfway, a hand coming to cup your cheek. Your lips are softer than he imagined - and he'd never admit it, but he imagined them many times - and that warmth you exude fills his body. He all but melts into you, a weight lifting from his shoulders that he wasn't aware he had. Slowly, you part, lips still close as he mutters, "I do."

The way you look at him, riddled with the telltale signs of post-kiss afterglow (rosy cheeks, lidded eyes, glossy lips and all), it has Miguel nearly at the altar already. He's not sure how it's possible, but you've managed to make his devotion to you even deeper than before. His best friend, the person he'd gladly die on hills for, who he's watched from up close and afar: you. He's not sure when friendship become something more, but now the tenderness of your confessions sit in your hands, alive and beating.

Carefully standing up on the roof's ledge, you hold out your hand and he knows immediately what to do. He falls in place next to you just like in the past, guiding you as you step along the cement, his firm hold assuring you that you're safe. You won't fall, not with Miguel there to catch you. The two of you walk like this in a comfortable silence, savoring the sweetness of what's happened, the certainty of each other's touch.

Suddenly, there's a commotion on the fire escape. Your heads snap to look at each other and you both know what's happening; you're angry ex-boyfriend is ascending the stairs, no doubt in pursuit of some argument, maybe to ignorantly throw a few punches at Miguel and call you names (a horrendous mistake, but he's dumb enough to try). Miguel rolls his eyes. "I'll handle him," he says, turning to help you off the ledge. You don't budge.

"Don't. I've got a better idea." You pull him up onto the ledge.

"Oh," he smirks, "Are you sure? Last time we did this you nearly pissed yourself."

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "Shut up, I've changed. Come on, let's go."

"Hold on, I want that bastard to see something."

Miguel wraps his arm tight around your waist, pulling you into his chest. As your ex makes it to the top, eyes furious and jaw dropped in disbelief, Miguel kisses you again. You can feel his smirk against your lips, can hear your ex screaming. But none of that matters right now and you really couldn't care less, not when you're wrapping your arms around Miguel's neck, not when you feel safe like this.

Miguel leans back and you're both falling from the top of twenty five stories, a hasty descent for the ground as he holds you close. His chest swells with pride as the two of you watch your ex leaning over the edge in disbelief at the apparent leap of death you two have taken. The wind blowing against you, Miguel shoots out his red webs, swinging away from the building with one arm. You laugh heartily, and maybe you really have changed, your face fearless and joyful as he weaves through the cityscape with you. Different, but still you. Still his.

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #fluff #beyond the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #miles morales #hobie brown #gwen stacy #spiderman #spider society #spider

[mnare]

i need some angst, hurt / no comfort with mr simon riley, where he unexpectedly breaks up with y/n before leaving for a dangerous mission, but y/n tries to get him to stay instead of just letting him go. like imagine:

you’re sitting in the couch, tv on in the background but you’re not really playing attention to it as you scroll on your phone.

simon is in the bathroom, said he was gonna take an early evening shower. but it’s been an hour and a half. you hear him walking towards the living room, but instead of walking towards you, simon walks towards the front door, you only look up when he speaks.

“i can’t do this anymore”

he’s looking at you through his skull balaclava. dressed and packed like he’s gonna go on a mission somewhere. he’s just hoping you don’t see his facade of calmness. the mask always did helped him hide his feelings.

“what do you mean ‘can’t do this anymore’,” you ask standing up, tears welling in your eyes as you take a couple steps towards him.

“where are you going with your gear on simon?”

ghost sighs and turns slightly, as if he’s just going to run away without explaining himself.

“what the fuck are you doing simon? you think i’m not gonna ask questions? what do you mean ‘you can’t do this anymore?!”

“i.. i’m ending our relationship, y/n..” he hates say those words to you. knowing how much it’ll break you. you were the only one who he’s let close enough, close enough to see him, to see simon riley instead of lieutenant ghost.

“you know how dangerous my job is. i’m gone for weeks at a time, never knowing if i’ll make it back in one piece. and this time., this time i’m certain i won’t be coming back, love..”

by know he’s looking down towards the door handle, hands at his side trembling subtly. the grip on the handles of his duffel bag seems as if he’d tear it in half.

while he tells you all this, the feeling of dread you had upon hearing the first words he uttered when he stood by the door turned into frustration. how dare he think he can just pack up and leave without saying anything? you thought that you became a place of comfort for him, somebody he can trust with his human side. he didn’t have to be ghost around you. and this is how he reacts?

you’re fuming. taking deep breaths in a failing attempt to calm down. your hands balled at your sides, shaking as you stomp your way towards him.

“so just cause you think you’re gonna die, you’re going to leave me? leave us? tear down everything we’ve built?” you spit the words out at him, tears finally breaking through.

ghost, surprised to hear your words laced with anger instead of sadness, could only look at you. not know what else to do as he tries to reach for the lock on the door to make his way out.

you slapped his hand away from it, a finger pointing at him,

“you’re not leaving this house without sitting down and talking to me simon riley, you are not doing this right now”, you say through clenched teeth as you hold back a sob. you know he could easily push you away but you don’t care. he can’t be doing this, not now.. so this is what a couple weeks of avoiding you leads to huh? you thought he was going through something, tried to give him some space since he would eventually come to you, like he always did. this time, you guess not.

he reaches for the handle again, you try to smack his hand away again, but this time he manages to hold you back enough to let him open the door to walk out into the rain that started to come down.

“simon fucking talk to me! please!” you lunge towards him as he starts making his was down the small front steps of your shared house, gripping unto his gear, his legs, anything to slow him down, but he’s stronger than you. doesn’t slow down as he walks towards his truck, even when you finally are able to get in front of him, trying to push him back into the house.

between the rain and his heart beat, your voice sounds distant in his mind. he’s already doing it. pushing everything way till he’s numb. he won’t allow himself to feel anything right now, or else he’ll listen to you and stay. he’ll stay, and sit in the couch with you. stay under the blankets as you thread your fingers through his hair while he pours his heart out to you. telling you his fears, both old and new.

he opens the driver’s side of the car, your cursing and crying muffled, yet he can still hear every word so clearly.

“simon, i’ll fix this! please just talk to me; you can’t just leave like this! i’ll wait for you, i always will. please just come inside, and we’ll talk! please, simon!”

he stands still, his head hanging in shame as he’s about to climb into his car. you quiet down, thinking he’ll finally listen to you and come back and talk.

you talk to him while you hold his arm, gently as if he’s and injured animal.

“let’s go back inside simon,” you say softly, “i’ll make you some tea and we can talk ok? just please.. please, let’s just talk about it..”

he see you out of the corner of his eye, you hair and clothes are completely soaked through. you’re eyes red, even though he can’t tell where the rain begins and your tears end.

a fitting setting he thought, was it even raining before he walked out? he wasn’t sure, but he was sure he would regret his next choice of actions.

before you could even react, he pushes you away from him, causing you to stumble a few paces from him. surprise vivid on your face. he gets in the car and starts it as you smack the window, yelling for him to get out the fucking car and speak to you. you, soaked through to your bones at this point, talk to him through the window as he backs out of the small driveway. he gives you one last look, his eyes filled with tears behind the skull. the last sign of simon before ghost drives away.

leaving you standing in the road, the rain pouring over you as you scream at him for leaving you, sobbing and breaking down all for your neighbors to see.

~~~~~~~~~

ANYWAYS, i kept seeing this trope with simon, but y/n always just ends up low key accepting it and not doing anything (like huh?? i’d go psycho😭 tf is this coming from sir) but i’m no writer, and in my head, i was gonna make the reader low key insane, like making threats insane lol

but i decided to mellow it out, probably a bit more realistic this way tbh 😭😭

#simon ghost riley #cod angst #ghost x reader #simon riley angst #hurt/angst #drabble #why do i do this to myself #breaking my own heart #why am i in love with this fictional man #call of duty

[lancermylove]

Adopted by the Demon Bros (Scenarios)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland, Obey Me

Pairing: All dorms with gn!Reader. Featuring the demon brothers.

Warning: None

Requested by: @animealways

Prompt: obey me x twisted wonderland Headcanon for all the characters finding out yuu is adopted by the demon brothers (adeuce and grimm face realizing they have been getting the literall devil child in trouble day in and out/everyone els who had a overblote being like "oh shit i attacked a literall demon kid" 😂) 

A/N: The HCs ended up turning into this chaotic mess. 😂

———————————————

Ruggie couldn't stop laughing. Adopted by demons? Sure, you were. Just like he was the King of Sunset Savana. Leona ignored your statement while Jack brushed it off as a joke.

"I'm being serious! Look!" You shuffled through your phone's gallery to find your birthday celebration video. "See!"

The three men silently watched the video, and Ruggie was the first to speak. "They're just wearing costumes. You ain't fooling anyone."

You gripped your phone in frustration before yelling, "Fine." Which brother to summon? Calling Lucifer or Satan was out of the question; calling Asmo would be risky as he would find the Savanaclaw members attractive and possibly charm them; calling Levi or Belphie would result in chaos, so that felt Mammon or Beel.

You closed your eyes and began chanting a spell. Jack and Ruggie didn't react, but Leona's ears perked up as his muscles tensed. "Heed my call and come forth Mammon!"

The second brother appeared out of thin air. Jack started to growl, Ruggie's ears lowered as he backed away, and Leona maintained his composure but kept his guard up. When he saw the men, Mammon immediately pulled you into a protective hug. "Who are they? Are they tryin' to hurt ya, (y/n)?"

"Nope! Mammon, I want you to meet my friends. The princely prick is Leona, the clueless but sweet musclehead is Jack, and the ever-hungry hyena is Ruggie," you giggled. "So guys do you believe me now? I am adopted by the seven demons~ also known as the Seven Rulers of Devildom."

From that day on, Leona never picked on you but didn't let you get away with calling him a prick. Ruggie never played around with you nor tricked you into doing anything, and Jack was cautious around you.

Lilia and Malleus chuckled and thought you were trying to tease Sebek with your statement. Silver stood beside his father in silence as he tried to study your expressions. He was the only one who didn't think you were joking.

"Human! Do you believe I, Sebek, would fall for your tricks?"

His tone was firm and loud, as usual, but you also felt a sense of mockery. Yes, what you said would have been hard to believe if you were in a world filled with only humans, but in front of you were two and a half faes. Out of them, one could turn into a dragon.

"I am telling the truth! I am adopted by demons," you frowned.

"Demons don't exist," he said while rolling his eyes.

"Sebek, you are part fae. Lilia and Malleus are faes. Malleus has dragon horns...and Silver is a human adopted by Lilia, a fae," your frown grew deeper. "So why is it so hard to believe my family members are demons."

"You are lying, and I will not allow you to speak a lie in front of the future king of Briar Valley!"

You were at your limits, and without saying a word, you took out the wand Solomon gifted you and wildly waved your arm with the tip pointing to the ground. In a few seconds, a large circle with an intricate pattern appeared on the floor. Much to the Diasomnia members' shock, the magic formation glowed red, and suffocating dark energy poured into the room.

Lilia and Malleus quickly used their magic to suppress the formation and stop the entity you were attempting to summon. Sebek was speechless, and Silver was stunned yet amazed. Before any of them could say a word, your phone rang.

"Hey, Lucifer!" You emphasized his name more and chuckled, "Everything is okay. I wanted to introduce you to my friends because they didn't believe me when I said demons exist. Okay, I will take care, and yes, I am eating properly...and focusing on my studies. Love you too! Bye."

You slid your phone into your jacket pocket and looked at the four students. Their faces were pallid, and they only stared at you with wide eyes. Feeling like you got the last laugh, you playfully smiled and poked them for the final time. "Why do all of you guys look like you saw a ghost?"

"You are...what?" Idia asked.

"Adopted by a family of demons. Seven demons, to be exact," you smiled.

He blankly stared, but before the silence could get uncomfortable, Idia said, "So lemme guess. The oldest brother comes off as cold, cruel, and arrogant but is caring and misunderstood. Not that he cares. The second brother is the family joker, comes off as rude, but is the kindest one - always lookin' out for his brothers. The third brother is a shut-in otaku who is also a gamer and thinks badly about himself...but all he wants is someone to understand and love him."

Ortho didn't think his brother could talk so much in one go, but Idia continued, "The fourth brother has anger issues and pretends he doesn't care about his brothers. In reality, he does. He also likes reading and cats. The fifth brother is obsessed with his appearance, but his beauty is unparalleled. He's easy to get along with but is very clingy. The sixth brother is a musclehead and has a bottomless appetite. He cares about his family more than anything and will protect them at any cost. The seventh brother sleeps all the time and is spoiled by everyone. He sometimes has a short temper and is intelligent. Then you woke up from your dream and realized it was only a game."

"Running a lie detector scan. Scan completed," Ortho said. "Onii-chan, (y/n) is speaking the truth. They are adopted by demons."

"What's next, Ortho? Her family members' names are Lucifer, Mammon, Levithan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor," Idia sarcastically said.

"Yes," you said in absolute shock.

"What?" Idia questioned.

"Upload (y/n)'s family report from NRC's database. Onii-chan, you are right! Those are the names of the demons," he laughed.

You and Idia stared at each other without moving for hours. Neither one of you could process what just happened. Meanwhile, Ortho read the details of the demon brother's out loud.

"Why are all of you being so mean?" You huffed and crossed your arms.

"Maybe because you said your family is made up of demons?" Ace laughed. "Demons...actually demons? You couldn't think up of anything better?"

"It's okay if you don't want to introduce them to us," Trey sighed.

Deuce felt guilty for laughing at you earlier and apologized, "Sorry. Didn't mean to laugh earlier, but what you said was funny..."

"(Y/n). You look like you are about to cry," Cater chuckled, "and Riddle, why do you look scared?"

"S-Scared? Of what? Demons don't exist...," the house warden said under his breath.

"I was going to ask Asmo or Mammon to come over, but I changed my mind. You guys deserve to meet Lucifer or Satan."

"Lucifer and Satan? Like the literal devils?" Ace laughed harder. "What imaginary world do you live in?"

"Okay, that's it!" You closed your eyes, chanted a few words, and called for Satan. "Come forth and answer my call, Satan!"

Ace and Deuce nearly screamed when a man with horns and a spikey tail appeared beside them, looking confused. He ignored them and looked at you. "(Y/n), why did you summon me? Did something happen? And...who are these men?"

"Satan! These men are being mean to me, and I want you to put curses on them...well, except Riddle...he wasn't mean. Curse Cater, so he can't use his phone all day. Curse Deuce so he can't pick fights with anyone. Curse Trey, so he can't brush his teeth for a few days. Curse Ace, so everyone laughs at him whenever they see him," You g gritted your teeth.

"W-Wait, I need to upload photos daily! I can't disappoint my followers," Cater exclaimed while holding his hands up in defense. "I am sorry for not believing you! By the way, Satan, can I take a picture with you? I need a viral photo."

Satan raised an eyebrow but ignored his request and turned his attention to you. "You call those curses? How about I turn all of them into chihuahuas?"

"Then I would have to take care of them," you vigorously shook your head.

"When they try to talk, they start singing, but their singing sounds like listening to a soundtrack backward?"

"Oh...I like that idea! How about getting Cerberus to chase them around?"

"I can't control Cerberus...only a CERTAIN someone can," Satan frowned. "Making them invisible?"

"They have grades to maintain and will be expelled if they fail. How about bringing them to Devildom? They can see what hell looks like."

As you and Satan threw ideas back and forth, the members of Heartslaybul stood in a corner, huddled up. Your words were enough to make them believe you were being raised by demons - they all made a mental note to never mess with you... ever again.

"No, I am being absolutely serious. Rook, you believe me, right?" Your eyes darted toward the hunter, hoping at least he would back you up.

"I dislike such senseless humor. Kindly stop," Vil politely requested as he glared daggers at you.

"Why would I joke about my family? They really are demons!"

Epel shifted uncomfortably and mumbled, "It ain't nice to call yer family...your family by such a mean name."

"Mean? Epel, just like you are a human. They are demons. That's their race," you pouted. "I am not trying to be mean."

Vil took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He folded his arms across his chest and looked you straight in the eyes, "Very well. Then why not call one of your family members here? I am certain that if they are demons, you can summon them here."

"Oh, then I should call Asmo. He will get along with everyone in Pomefoire."

You closed your eyes and muttered a chant to open a portal for Asmo. You stood with your arms open, expecting the fifth brother to run out of the portal and hug you; instead, you saw Levi step out of the portal and instantly freeze. Seeing unknown people staring at him, the third brother frantically looked for a hiding place. He ran behind you and bent down. "Too many...people..."

"Levi? What are you doing here? I called Asmo."

"I...wanted to see y-you," he shakily whispered.

The members of Pomefiore stared at Levi's tail, not believing what they were seeing. Epel's grandmother always taught him that demons were terrible - creatures of the dark that could hurt and kill, but Levi looked nothing like what she had described. Rook, on the other hand, was fascinated. If he asked you to visit your homeland, would you take him?

"(Y/n). I apologize for my behavior earlier. I did think you were lying, yet you proved me incorrect," he smiled. "Levi, welcome to Pomefiore. My name is Vil Schoenheit, and I am the house warden. Would you like to join us for lunch? We won't bite. I promise."

"Demon?" Azul pondered while pushing his glasses up with the tip of his finger. "Ah, I see."

Jade nodded, "My apologies. Rather unfortunate that we cannot select our family members."

"Cheer up, shrimpy," Floyd added. "You've us."

"What? I'm very confused. Oh, wait. That's not what I meant," you laughed. "I don't mean my family members are demonic. I mean, my family members are actual demons."

"Actual...demons?" The house warden chuckled. "(Y/n). Did Ace accidentally hit your head with a spell drive disc again?"

"I'm being serious! Fine, let me prove it to you. Since you three enjoy tormenting people, its time someone tormented you," a devilish smirk tugged on your lips. "Come forth, Beel! Come forth, Belphie!"

"(Y/n)? Is everything okay?" Beel asked, concerned.

Azul jumped at the sight of their horns while the twins stared in shock and amusement. You quickly took out your phone to secretly record their reaction. "Hi, Beel! Everything is a-okay! Belphie. Beel. Meet Jade and Floyd. They're twins, just like you two. And this is Azul."

Belphie nodded, still half asleep, but Beel was too distracted to reply. The smell of freshly cooked food tickled his nose and drew him towards the Mostro Lounge kitchen.

"By the way, Azul, won't you treat my family to your famous Mostro Lounge menu?"

He noticed a hint of teasing in your voice but didn't think much of it. "Ah, where are my manners? Jade. Floyd. Kindly treat our guests to any food or drink they like."

You smirked, "Payback time."

Since that day, Azul banned you from summoning Beel inside Octavinelle. All the profits he made for the week were devoured by the sixth brother within an hour. Also, the students of Octavinelle thought twice before giving you a hard time.

Jamil shook his head at Kalim's excitement - how could he easily believe your words? He understood you trying to prank Kalim, but did you honestly think he would believe you? Demons don't exist. Wait, did you mean your family was demonic, like evil in nature? That made more sense.

"I wish I could call all of them here, but that would get too chaotic. Let me call the prettiest and easiest one to get along with!" You recited his change and called his name, "Asmodeus, come forth."

Jamil's eyes widened as a gasp escaped his lips, "Wait, why did your chant sound like a real-"

"Sweetie!" Asmo appeared behind you and threw his arms around you. "I missed you so much. Why did you choose to go to a school so far away? I worry about you so much that my skin is feeling the stress. Come back home with me!"

"Sorry, Asmo. I miss you too, but I can't drop out after coming this far. Wait for me a little longer."

"Alright. If that makes you happy, I will wait," he smiled and looked around.

Kalim beamed at him while Jamil stood with his back against the nearest wall, looking like he just saw a ghost. Asmo chuckled, "Sweetie, won't you introduce me to your cute friends?"

"Asmo, this is Kalim, and," you looked at the vice house warden and bit the inside of your lip to suppress your laugh. "That's...Jamil."

"Why do you look frightened? Am I terrifying?" Asmo sulked. "But I am the most beautiful demon alive..."

"You are pretty," Kalim beamed.

"Don't worry about Jamil. He probably has a secret fear of demons," you teased. "He will come around eventually."

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