odhdhs - Tumblr blog

odhdhs · 3 months ago

Text

(Part 3) Lin Ling's guide to becoming an emotional support civilian [YANDERE EDITION]

[TO BE HERO X] x [LIN LING]

[Part 1; Part 2 can be found here!]

Context warning: Cursing, falling

Author's note: Oh, thank god I'm done. This ballooned way past my expectations, so I'm really glad to be done! I hope you guys enjoy!

Once again, thank you @kiraisrika for the idea! [ And to my friends! if it weren't for their love bullying I wouldn't have finished so fast! ]

Lin Ling was awestruck.

His cheeks were on fire, and he could feel his heart pounding out of his chest, but how could he not be!? His queen, his idol—his goddess—was standing right there! In front of him! They were breathing the same air! Oh god, he can’t breathe—

“Welcome to True Love Recipe at our live venue! I'm your substitute host for today, rank 249th hero in the Association...Eye of Truth, Enlightener!” Huh? Lin Ling turned to Miss Juan, and from her facial expression, he could tell she was just as confused as he was.

Enlightener continues, “Welcome, Nice, Moon. This show is called True Love Recipe. As the name suggests, behind every romance lie hidden stories not known to outsiders.” Miss Juan was growing more frantic, pointing and slamming her hands down on the table. He was stuck in an awkward spot to either go over there and help her or continue to stand behind the couch, waiting like a sitting duck. ‘Damn Nice and his puppy eyes,’ he thought to himself, staying put.

“So, today, we'll test just how much you understand each other.” Gesturing to them with his cup of tea, Lin Ling can now finally see the mask drop slightly for Moon, her eyes widening. “Nice, how many total commercials has Moon starred in? And what is their total runtime?” Oh, easy, 134 commercials with about 285 minutes and 48 seconds.

“What kind of stupid, nitpicky questions are those?! Is he asking for a fight or something?” Or not, judging from Miss Juan’s reaction.

After a beat of silence, Enlightener smirks, “Since your love is so perfect, I'm sure you wouldn't forget such details.” He goads. Getting a bit nervous for Nice, he clapped inaudibly to try to get Nice’s attention while mouthing the answer. ‘134 commercials with about 285 minutes and 48 seconds,’ he mouthed on repeat.

“In total…”

134 commercials with a total of 285 minutes and 48 seconds! C’mon!

“In total, there are 134 commercials.”

Yes!

Nice turned his attention to Enlightener, who stopped mid-sip of his tea to stare at him with shock. “They had a total run time of 285 minutes and 48 seconds.” Behind them, on the big screen, giant pink letters appeared, spelling out the word ‘BINGO.’ Lin Ling let out a stubble-sigh of relief. If he knew his fangirl's knowledge of Moon would come in handy, he would have started stanning her mouth earlier.

Moon turned to Nice, whispering something to him, but Nice responded loud enough that Lin Ling and the Mic could hear. “Of course, you are my girlfriend after all.” He says, his eyes empty as he smiles back at her. ‘Right,’ he thought to himself, with all that happened earlier, the fact that the Moon is his fake girlfriend slipped his mind.

Recovering from his shock, he pressed on, his confidence returning in full force. “For the second stage, let us play a game.” Suddenly, a little spot of light appeared on his chest before a string emerged from the spot, connecting Nice to a small machine in the middle. From the looks of it, it looked like a lie detector. “Truth or dare?” Enlightener smirks.

“Honesty is one of the most important qualities—”

“Dare.”

“Huh?”

Nice offered him an embarrassed look. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but to answer your question,” There was a certain sharp glint in his eyes as he smiled at Enlightener, as if daring him to contest him on this: “I choose dare; I hope you don’t mind.”

Enlightener gritted his teeth, his smirk wavering to a scowl. “Well, Nice, I actually do mind. Before you so kindly interrupted me, I was just about to go on about how important honesty is in maintaining relationships, so tell me.” The scowl has now reverted back to his smirk, but he can’t help but compare it to baring teeth. “Is Moon really your girlfriend?”

Nice blinks, “Of course she is?”

All eyes turned to the machine. The machine spluttered for a little bit before a giant question mark appeared on its surface. “It’s…half correct?” The man seemed as confused as everyone else (excluding Nice), and at this point, Lin Ling’s lips were raw from how much he was biting them. Everyone turned to Nice for an explanation, but all he did was sigh, as if expecting this outcome.

“I wanted to do this in a more private place, like at the cafe we had our first date at, or at my apartment, but” he waved helplessly at the machine. “The cat is out of the bag, I suppose.” Standing up, he neatly dusts himself free of any dust before turning to a stunned Moon. Bowing at exactly 90 degrees, he looks her dead in the eyes as he asks.

“Moon, will you be my wife?”

Instantly, everyone in the room exploded in shock. Not even Moon can hide her startled “Huh!?” She backs away from him, her hand covers her gaping mouth. Nice smile at her reaction, gently taking both her hands into his own. “I understand if this is a lot to you, but,” Drawing back to his full height, he continues, “I can’t help it. I have fallen for you deeper and deeper every day, and it pains me that you aren’t fully mine, so will you marry me?”

“I-I-”

“Stop!” Enlightener screeched, slamming his cup down on the ground, “Don't get complacent just yet! There's still a third stage you have to pass!” Lin Ling held back on the ground. Of course. The heart screen door to the left cracked open, smoke billowing out, and in the white smoke was the silhouette of…a man?

The man stepped forward into the light, the smoke dissipating with each step he took. Lin Ling can feel his throat tighten up as he finally realizes who it was.

It can’t be… “Boss?” He muttered to himself. Nice snapped his head over to Lin Ling, but before he could say anything, Enlightener continued. “He was once an entrepreneur, but now he's been pushed into a corner like a trapped beast. He owes all of this to you, Nice! Nice, your entire hero persona is a product of his team's commercials! Not only that, but you've driven him to bankruptcy! You—”

“When are you going to pay me?” Just hearing his voice sent a shiver down his spine. When he was fired, one of the many thoughts going through his head was outside of ‘Holy shit, what should I do? I only have enough money to cover half a month of rent. I am so fucked—’ was ‘At least I never have to work, see, or even think about my boss ever again!’ Think again, past Lin Ling! Because there he is! Standing in… ripped frog armor?

‘What is my life?’ he thought for the 1 millionth and 1 time. As he questioned all his life choices and what led up to this situation, he failed to pay attention before a BOOM and CRACK could be heard. Whipping his head around, he can see Enlightener on the ground, rumbling surrounding him, and a crack in the pony wall behind him.

Snapping his head back to his ex-boss, black tendrils of fear began to swim around him as his face twisted in anger. “I can't go out of business. I don't want to go out of business!” His inky black hands were shaking with rage. Whipping out a whip made from fear, he bellows, “You owe me a final payment! Pay me!” His whip lashes through the air as he runs towards Nice, his arm raised high, ready to send a devastating blow when-

Nice punches him.

He is knocked out cold.

They were back in the van, speeding on through on the busy highway. Lin Ling had his eyes closed, resting his head against the cold windowsill. With such an anti-climactic fight, all the adrenaline has left his body, leaving behind an aching exhaustion. If it weren’t for the bumps in the road waking him up periodically, he would have fallen asleep right then and there.

Nice was curled up by his side, his face agitated. After confirming with Lin Ling that the man he punched was Lin Ling’s asshole boss, he was 1 second away from flying out of the car and giving the man a second round of ass-whopping. It was due to Lin Ling and Miss Juan’s combined efforts that they managed to keep him in the car. Lin Ling didn’t know why he hated his boss so much (perhaps he had experience with bad bosses before?), but he was too tired to ask. So now they ride in silence back to Hero’s tower.

Arriving back at Nice’s barren apartment, Lin Ling lazily threw his shoes on the ground haphazardly, and Nice picked them up and arranged them neatly near the entrance. “Do you have any pillows I can borrow?” He asked, yawning halfway through his question. His eyes were drooping now, and he desperately wished for a bed to crash on. A couch works, too. Honestly, the floor was also looking mighty tempting the longer he looked at it.

“Pillows?” Nice ask from behind, his arms pulling him back into his familiar embrace. “Yeah? I’m going to need them to sleep on the couch.” Nice stared at him before laughing. Lin Ling stares at him in sleepy confusion. If he had the energy, he would have rewound the conversation back in his head to see what he missed. But now, all he can do is stare at Nice so he can explain himself. “Silly little thing,” he coos, grinning, “You’re not sleeping on the couch. I have a perfectly sizable bed we can use!” Floating up, he tugs on Lin Ling’s hands, leading him behind the statue toward a bed on the ground, surrounded by water.

You know what? Sure, why not? Lin Ling was too tired to fight. Nice as he pushed him gently onto the bed. Unconsciously letting out a sigh, his tired body sank into the feather-light mattress. He can hear Nice giggle slightly as he burrows his head into the pillow, and like an ostrich, he ignores him completely in favor of pulling the blanket over himself.

In one second flat, he was out like a light.

Lin Ling woke up gradually.

The first thing he could register was warmth. The second was someone behind him, their arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing him like a teddy bear. It was… pleasant. Pleasant enough that he was about to drift off back to slumber if it weren’t for the sound of a camera’s shuttering and someone angrily grumbling to themselves.

“—Stupid Treeman company, stupid Miss Juan, stupid Nice. Lived with the guy for years and yet never once told me he had a boytoy.”

Nice, boy toy? What?

“—Miss Juan has to let me go now with these pics! Ugh, I can’t wait to revisit Bali and take a nice, long vacation there.”

Lin Ling slowly opened his eyes before immediately shutting them, hissing in pain at the sudden flashbang. The person—a girl—cursed out in shock at his sudden movement. He blinked multiple times, his eyes getting used to the bright room they were in. Once he blinked away all the blurriness, he looked to where the person was—

“Moon…?”

Moon blinks.

“Moon!”

Nice startled awake as Lin Ling jumped a good foot in the air, landing his ass in the cold water surrounding the bed. His heart was beating out of his chest, and the ice-cold water definitely shocked his system awake. “Moon!” Say something! “Hi! I didn’t know you lived here!” YOU IDIOT.

Both Nice and Moon are now staring, one concerned and one deadpan, at him. Lin Ling's face was hot all over, and he didn’t need a mirror to know he was blushing bright red. “Do you feel okay, Lin Ling?” “This is who you chose to cheat on me with?” They both said it simultaneously. Nice whipped his head in outrage at Moon held up her head while she looked back at her phone, clearly losing all interest in the conversation. “Save it, I don’t care, because!” Her scowl turned into a large grin, and a pop song rang on her phone. “That means I can leave!”

Miss Juan answers the call, “Moon, what is it—”

“MISS JUAN, NICE IS CHEATING ON ME; THAT MEANS HE BROKE THE CONTRACT, RIGHT?”

Lin Ling’s eyes widened as he desperately scrambled out of the stream of water. “Wait! No! We’re not like that!” He tries following, but with her quick strides and Nice pulling him back on the bed, soaking wet and all, he can only stare forlornly as she walks away, screaming into the phone. Or he would be if Nice didn’t put his hand over his eyes, blocking his sight.

Of course, “Nice, can you move your hand?”

Nice hums above him, as if actually considering the question at hand, “Would you continue to look at Moon if I do?” He asked, his tone playful but with a sharper edge. “I mean, yeah?” If she’s in the room and talking with him, what is he supposed to do? Not look at her? Nice hand tighten over his eyes. “Wrong answer!” Lin Ling groans.

“Can you at least let me go to the bathroom? I feel disgusting right now.”

Nice sighed, as if it physically pained him to remove his hand, letting light enter back into his world. “Fine.” He brightened up again, though, as he began to haul Lin Ling back onto his feet. “Let me show you where the bathroom is! Don’t worry, you have your own toiletries and everything.” Huh, he didn’t even think of that. Stepping into the bathroom, he had to admit it was nice, the white, futuristic, minimalist decor finally working in a room’s favor.

Looking at the fancy toothbrush holder, he spots a bright yellow toothbrush, sharply contrasting with the other two paler toothbrushes beside it. Squinting, he almost rubs his eyes because no way at’s—

“Is that my toothbrush?”

Nice nods. “Mpmh! We got it in yesterday!”

“...please get out.”

Shooing a stubborn Nice out of the bathroom, he quickly sped through his morning routine. (He grimaced slightly when he stepped out of the shower, realizing he would have to change back into his old clothes as he didn’t bring any fresh ones.)

Stepping out of the steaming bathroom, the white hung loosely around his neck; he was both half surprised and half not when Nice (who was apparently standing guard outside) lunged to his side before promptly attaching himself to him like the needy Koala that he is. He can see a few wet droplets dripping onto his white locks, but he doesn’t seem to mind, letting out a relieved sigh. “You smell good,” he mutters, digging his nose into his throat.

Before Lin Ling could even think up a reply to that comment, his stomach growled, drawing both their attention to it. Nice blinked at his stomach before promptly dissolving into a fit of laughter. It wasn’t even a polite little chuckle or even a giggle, no! It was a full-blown fit of laughter! Lin Ling could only stare in shock as the man laughed himself to tears, holding his stomach in for support.

“What—WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING ABOUT!? I DIDN’T HAVE DINNER LAST NIGHT OKAY!?”

Nice held up his hand as he desperately gasped for air between laughter. After a full minute of this, Nice was finally able to pull himself together, wiping away the tears from the corner of his eye. “Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you, I was just—” He sombered a little, pulling himself up to his full height. His arms were still wrapped around Lin Ling, but he couldn’t help but shiver slightly. “I just realized I hadn’t felt surprised in a long time.”

And if that didn’t break his heart. Hesitantly, he slowly pulled Nice into his own arms, reciprocating the hug. He can feel Nice’s body freeze, his hands around him like they didn’t know what to do.

“I’m here.” He says simply.

Nice was quiet for a second before, like invisible strings being cut, all but melted into his hug. “Thank you.”

Breakfast was awkward. They sat at the long dining table, Moon on one side, Nice and him on the other end. He was trying to enjoy his breakfast, but with Nice breathing over his shoulder and Moon alternating between glaring at Nice and staring at him hard like he was some kind of puzzle to solve, the food tasted like cardboard to him.

“So,” Moon starts, her voice cutting through the tense air like butter, “Your Nice’s boyfriend?”

Oh, thank god, a chance to fix this misunderstanding. “Actually—”

“None of your business, nosy. Also, your elbows are on the table.” Or it would be if Nice didn’t cut in, his tone colder than Lin Ling has ever heard it. Awkwardly realizing his elbows were on the table, he hastily changed his posture while Moon huffed, looking him dead in the eyes as she deliberately splashed some sauce onto his white shirt. He can see Nice’s eyes twitch, zeroing in on the stain.

“Uh-huh, anything else, your highness? Perhaps you would like me to cease breathing too, since it’s so rude and untidy.” The tension was back in the air, and it was stronger than ever. Nice rolled his eyes. “You leaving would be pretty great, actually.” He snipped back. This comment was what tipped Moon over the edge as she turned a bright red. Standing up and slamming her hands down the table, she screams, “AND WHO’S FAULT IS THAT!? I DIDN’T SIGN UP TO BE STUCK TO SOME POMPOUS, ARROGANT, ASSHOLE LIKE YOU! I—”

“Actually,” He cuts her off, slicing his Eggs Benedict perfectly in half. “You did. Deal with it.”

Holy shit. Lin Ling whipped his head towards Nice, his mouth gaping wide in horror. “Nice.” He hissed, horrified. Nice, like a liar, calmly turned to Lin Ling, his face the picture-perfect face of innocence that screamed, ‘I did nothing wrong ever in my life.’ “Yes?” His voice honey-sweet. Before he can tell him off for that line, because honestly, what the fuck was that!? The doors burst open, and out came Miss Juan, surrounded by the men in black suits.

Miss Juan took the chance to survey the room before nodding. “Good, you’re all here. We can get down to business then.” Pulling out her tablet, she continues, “Since Nice’s little stunt last night, you two have been trending on FOMO, so that means we have to capitalize on it!”

Moon's eyes widen in horror as Nice tenses, his hands tightening over Lin Ling’s. “No…you have to be kidding me.”

The shark-like grin on Miss Juan's face tells everyone that no, she isn’t kidding.

Wreck has been doing great.

His apartment was littered with beer cans; he doesn’t have the energy to get out of bed most days, and his phone has been glued to his hands 24/7 for even the slightest chance that Miss Juan or, heaven forbid, Nice himself, finally picks up theirs and answers all his texts and emails. (Most of them came at 3 am when he was drunk off his ass and desperate.)

When he was 22, freshly graduated with a performing arts degree in hand, and his best friend at his side. He thought they could take on the world together. Ha, what a joke. The minute Nice got popular, they tore Wreck from his side and tossed him away like he was just another piece of trash on the street. It’s not like he didn’t massively help contribute to Nice’s popularity or anything, he thought angrily to himself, rewinding the latest video of True Love’s Recipe.

It’s been months of Wreck sitting on his ass in his filthy apartment. (If Nice were still here, he would have wrinkled his nose before he smiled that smile that promised him hell if he didn’t clean up right this second. He would always help.) He was going stir crazy, and nothing helped. Running doesn’t help him (Nice would always complain, but he’d follow him during his route regardless), and none of the recent media has caught his eye (Nice loved shooter games and would deny it every time).

“I can’t help it. I have fallen for you deeper and deeper every day, and it pains me that you aren’t fully mine, so will you marry me?” THUNK The empty beer can slides pathetically off the TV as it glitches, no doubt because of his powers (Nice banned horror movies because of it, even though they were his favorite.) “Yeah right.” He mocks the screen. He’s about to grab the remote to rewind the video again when he hears a ping. A text.

Lunging for the phone, his eyes shake as he opens up his phone. Please let it be Nice, please Nice, please—it was Miss Juan. He sighs, dropping his forehead onto the phone. Fuck, he thought humorlessly, of course. Shaking his head, he opens up the test to see-

“HE’S GETTING MARRIED!? TODAY!?”

There was more, but his vision was blurred. 2 months. 2 months of no contact, no nothing with no prior warning, and 2 months of worrying and sitting on his ass, and this is how he’s supposed to figure out his best friend since diapers is GETTING MARRIED!?

Suiting up and running out of his apartment all went past in a flash. Civilians were screaming as their screens started glitching and buildings began unraveling, but he didn’t care. The only thing running around his mind was Nice and how he was getting married, and he didn’t even think to text him! Even if their entire relationship was fake, doesn’t he, as Nice’s best friend, deserve to know from the man himself!?

Before he knew it, he was at the park where the ceremony was taking place. The music was loud and grating, paparazzi and fans everywhere taking pictures, and ahead of them all, under a white floral wedding arch, stood him.

“NICE!” He roared, pointing his sword at him. All sounds around him fuzzed into background noise, and his vision tunneled in on Nice. He was wearing a suit, obviously tailored to harken back to his normal hero wear. It was white, with gold lining and a flowing, white cape. Nice turned to him gracefully, as if expecting him to show up.

“Wreck,” He greets back pleasantly, as if he didn’t ignore all his texts and calls from him for 2 months straight. “I should have known you’d crash my wedding. Just because you like Moon too doesn’t mean—” Oh no, you don’t.

In the back of his mind, he can vaguely recall a script attached to the text sent to him earlier, but he didn’t even open it up before rushing straight over here. Good. He thinks viciously as he swings his sword at Nice, rock tendrils sprouting out from the ground, splitting him and Moon up. He advances, lunging himself forward; he swings—Nice blocks it with his arm while the other comes up and tries to uppercut him.

It was a dance—a familiar dance of sweat and blood, of bruises and cuts. He knows how the song goes; he roughs up Nice, throws out some one-liners, perhaps threatens a civilian or two, but he would always let Nice shine. Let Nice have center stage as he dances in the background, propping him up. Nice always wins. They have danced this dance a million times; they know how this goes.

But, seeing Nice standing proud and tall and happy while he’s been sinking in worry. Something snapped within. Fuck the music, fuck the dance; he wants Nice to pay.

He savors the looks of surprise on Nice’s face as he tanks the punch—his sword slicing through his shoulder. Nice grunts, looking at him with newfound caution. He backs up, his feet off the ground, ready to fly. “What are you doing?” He hissed, Wreck’s laugh. Nice throws a punch; Wreck dodges. “Me? What have you been doing!? My texts, my calls, my emails—all ignored!” Before he can respond, the sound of a portal opens. Moon jumps out, kicking him in the head.

Moon’s saying something about lifelong regrets or whatnot. Wreck’s not listening. Because right now, right in front of him, a man walks over to Nice, concern clearly visible, and Nice smiles. It’s real. (He hasn’t seen it in years.)

His vision goes red.

“YOU!”

The ground erupts, rocks ensnaring the man in a cocoon. “Lin Ling!” Nice yells. Before he can do anything, the roots take them into the skies, far above the clouds. Moon joins them. Nice, Nice, Nice, standing across from him, angry. Out of all their thousands and one fights, Nice was never angry. He feels like laughing. He feels like crying. “Let Lin Ling go, Wreck.” He says through gritted teeth. His hands are balled up into fists.

“Not before you answer my questions, Nice.” Beside him, the cocoon cracks open, revealing the man—Lin Ling, bound together. He squirms, trying to get out of his restraint. He stills, however, when Wreck points his sword at him, the blade dangerously close to his neck. Nice flinches. “Who is he!? Why haven’t you been answering my texts!? Why do you look so…so” happy?

Nice looks away, his lips pressed to a thin line. “We can talk after this; just let Lin Ling go.” Wreck tightened his grip on his sword. He can hear Lin Ling gasp as it drew closer to his neck. Yeah, right. “And give you another chance to ignore me!? No. You are going to answer my questions here and now, or God help me, I will kill this man. Nice.”

Nice, flinched back as if he had been struck. “Don’t make me choose, Wreck.”

“WHAT!? SO BETWEEN HIM OR ME, YOU’LL CHOOSE HIM OVER ME!?”

His look gave him all the answers he needed.

He understands.

He’s been replaced.

He laughs.

27 years. 27 years of being friends, of being the person Nice turned to for support. When his parents kicked him out, he was there. When Nice went through his depressive episode, he was there. When Nice wanted to be a hero but was too nervous to do it alone, he was there. He was always there. Ready and happy to be his backup dancer. Because all he ever wanted was for Nice to be happy, in the spotlight.

But it didn’t matter. 27 years, and it didn’t matter.

“WHAT DID I DO WRONG!?” He screamed. “WAS I NOT GOOD ENOUGH!? WHY WASN’T I GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!?”

“No! Wreck! That isn’t it!”

“THEN WHAT IS IT, HUH!? I WAS THERE FOR YOU! I TRIED SO HARD, AND YET NOTHING. NOTHING I DID OR SAID COULD MAKE YOU SMILE YET.” He swung his sword at Lin Lin. “HE COULD. WHY WAS HE THE ONE TO MAKE YOU SMILE LIKE THAT AGAIN!? WHY COULDN’T I MAKE YOU HAPPY!?”

His parents were right, he realized; he couldn’t do anything right. He couldn’t even keep his one friend, the one light in his life, happy.

There were tears in his eyes, and he couldn’t see anything properly. His heart was both aching and empty, and it was all too much. With one last look at Nice, he dispelled the structures around them. Everyone screamed. Moon opened up a portal and clung to his side as everything collapsed between them.

The last thing he saw was Nice swooping in to save Lin Ling.

And then he fell.

392 notes · View notes

odhdhs · 3 months ago

Text

Incorrect and out of context quotes (from Amphibia) but with obey me characters.

-------------------------------------------

Mammon who drank too much coffee

Him speeding around in lightning speed: I'M THE TIME LORD NOW!

-------------------------------------------

MC: You're insane and I love it!

-------------------------------------------

Lucifer telling Belphegor to remove all his weapons (cause we know Belphie is insane like that)

Belphie removes all his knives that were in his clothes and shoes and hair.

Lucifer: How do you even walk?

-------------------------------------------

Anyone: What's a disk!

Mc: I don't know! I'm from another dimension, not the 90's!

-------------------------------------------

Mc doing something reckless and dangerous.

Lucifer: One of these days, they will get themselves killed.

Simeon: Don't say that!

-------------------------------------------

Mc seeing a mysterious button: Imma push it.

-------------------------------------------

Mc accidentally tripped and spilled coffee on diavolo's tapestry.

Mc: awh DANG IT! Tell me that tapestry wasn't hundreds of years old...

Diavolo: oh, way older than that actually.

Mc: NoOoOoOoOoOoOo...

-------------------------------------------

Mc seeing Solomon doing something non human things.

Mc: this is not a human thing. 😧

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me belphegor #amphibia #obey me solomon #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me mc #out of context #out of context quotes

19 notes · View notes

odhdhs · 3 months ago

Text

Thank you to everyone who got me to 500 likes!

#500 likes #tumblr milestone #thank you

0 notes

odhdhs · 3 months ago

Text

Vote to save: part 4

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me solomon #obey me beelzebub #pls vote #vote to save

18 notes · View notes

odhdhs · 3 months ago

Text

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 25

<<<Previous Next>>>

It had been three weeks.

Three long, buzzing, sleepless weeks since your portfolios were submitted, carefully reviewed, triple-checked, and delivered into the arcane dropbox guarded by an enchanted golem who had politely wished you “good fortune” in five different languages.

And now, the final wait was nearly over. The results would be posted tomorrow at dawn. You sat at your usual spot in the dining hall, the table glowing under soft lanternlight, half-listening to the hum of your friends’ voices. Every student around you carried the same barely-contained energy, like the whole Academy was holding its breath.

“I swear,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered, slumping dramatically over his tray, “if I don’t get placed in the Mythos Lab, I’m transferring to one of those boring wizard academies by the marsh.”

“You’d last two days before dying of boredom,” Chai Latte Cookie replied, poking at her mashed roots with her spoon. “Or trying to enchant the entire faculty into giving you snacks.” Hazelnut grinned. “So I’d go down in history.”

“You’d go down in flames,” Earl Grey said dryly, not looking up from his tea. “Which would be poetic, but still tragic.”

You chuckled softly, but your thoughts wandered. Three weeks. It felt like a blur and an eternity all at once. Between lectures, late-night study sessions, and whispered evenings in the Scholar’s Wing, it had passed without warning.

“Do you think we’ll all get in?” you asked quietly. The table stilled for just a breath. Chai was the first to speak. “I think we’ve done everything we could. We worked hard. We submitted early. We made each other better.”

She gave you a pointed look, warm and firm. “You’ve come so far.”

Hazelnut Biscotti nodded. “We’ve got a real shot.”

“And if not,” Earl Grey added smoothly, “we’ll simply rewrite the future until it suits us. That’s what scholars do.”

That drew a laugh from all of you. But the nerves didn’t quite fade .As you reached for your tea, Chai leaned forward suddenly, that familiar glint in her eye.

“And speaking of rewriting futures…” she said slyly. “What’s going on with you and the Sage of Truth?”

You blinked. “What?”

She grinned. “Shadow Milk Cookie. You’ve been seeing him almost every day for weeks, and I’m just supposed to believe you’re only talking about metaphysics and portfolio formatting?”

Hazelnut made a quiet “ooh,” and even Earl Grey quirked a brow with interest.

You hesitated. “It’s… kind of the same. I mean, we’re close. There’s this understanding between us, this rhythm we’ve fallen into. But-”

“But?” Chai’s voice softened.

You exhaled. “It’s like there’s this barrier we keep pretending doesn’t exist. We’re not just friends anymore. I think we both know that. But there’s no label. No definition. And it’s… starting to feel like that lack of definition is keeping us from something.”

Earl Grey set down his tea. “From moving forward.”

You nodded, voice quieter. “Maybe.” Chai looked at you, really looked, and reached across the table to squeeze your hand.

“You’ve already walked into the unknown once,” she said. “What’s one more step?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at your friends how far you’d all come. How much tomorrow might change. And how much, already, had changed. Maybe in the morning, there’d be answers. Maybe even the kind that couldn’t be written into a portfolio.

Your fingers curled around your cup, the warmth grounding you as you exhaled softly.

The laughter and chatter that had filled the table moments before quieted, a subtle shift as your friends sensed the sincerity behind your silence. “It’s not that easy,” you said, voice low but honest. Hazelnut Biscotti, halfway through chewing a roll, paused. Chai Latte leaned in just a bit, eyes softening.

Even Earl Grey tilted his head slightly, setting down his teacup. “It’s not like we don’t care about each other,” you continued. “I know we do. But there’s this… line. One neither of us wants to cross.”

Chai gave you a gentle smile. “Because of who he is?”

You nodded slowly. “Because of everything he is. He’s the Sage of Truth…Shadow Milk Cookie. He’s someone with centuries ahead of him, someone who speaks in riddles and answers with stars. And I’m…”

You gestured vaguely. “Just a student. One who nearly flunked their way through the first half of the semester and once tried to enchant pineapple ice cream.”

Hazelnut Biscotti let out a soft snort. “A noble disaster.”

You smiled faintly but didn’t look up. “I guess… I don’t know where we stand. We never really say anything. It’s always these quiet moments holding hands under the table, walking in the gardens after dark, falling asleep in his office. But we don’t call it anything.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to name it first,” Earl Grey said gently.

You looked at him, surprised. “He’s older. Wiser. But that doesn’t mean he knows how to navigate this,”

Earl continued. “Maybe he’s giving you room. Letting you choose if you want something defined…without putting pressure on it.”

Chai reached out and brushed her thumb lightly over your knuckles. “But not knowing still hurts, doesn’t it?”

You gave the smallest nod. “It’s like… it doesn’t matter if we both know what this is if neither of us says it out loud. It feels like we’re keeping it in a box we’re both too scared to open.” There was silence, but it wasn’t heavy. Just thoughtful.

“I’m not asking for anything big,” you added. “I just want to feel like we’re standing on something solid. That I’m not imagining it.”

“You’re not,” Chai said quietly, her hand still resting over yours. Hazelnut raised his cup. “And if he breaks your heart, we’ll steal his ink bottles and sabotage every quill he owns.” You laughed, the tension in your chest loosening just enough. “Thanks, I think?”

“Anytime,” he said, grinning. “You’re doing fine,” Earl added, calm as ever. “Better than most.” And for the first time that evening, you believed that might be true. That maybe even the undefined had meaning. And maybe tomorrow would bring something more.

Your fingers curled around Earl Grey’s hands, seeking reassurance, seeking something that felt steady. His warmth was grounding, the weight of his certainty anchoring you even as doubt pulled at your edges.

“…Do you really mean that?” you asked, your voice quieter than before. Earl Grey’s gaze was unwavering, calm as ever, yet beneath it, there was something almost tender.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” The world around you faded just slightly. The dim glow of the dining hall, the quiet hum of voices none of it seemed to matter as much as this moment.

Your hands remained clasped across the table, a touch that to you felt natural like time itself had woven trust between you both, like this was just another moment in the long thread of your friendship.

But to an outsider? To someone watching from across the room? It looked like something entirely different. Chai Latte’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she masked it with a small sip of her tea. Her fingers twitched against the table, as if resisting the urge to say something.

Hazelnut Biscotti, however, never resisted such urges. “Oh no,” he gasped, placing a hand over his chest with theatrical flair. “Are you two eloping? Has true love blossomed right before our eyes?” Hazelnut Biscotti was just jesting and his bluntness was more playful than Earl Grey’s.

Your head snapped toward him so fast you nearly knocked over your tea. “What?!” Chai Latte groaned, reaching over to lightly smack him on the arm. “Hazel, I swear-” But before she could scold him properly, something changed. A presence. A shift in the air, subtle but impossible to ignore.

Hazelnut Biscotti, who had been grinning just a second ago, stiffened. Chai Latte’s shoulders squared, and her gaze flickered just past you. Even Earl Grey composed, unshakable Earl Grey tensed ever so slightly.

Slowly, you turned. And your breath caught. Shadow Milk Cookie stood behind you. His eyes were unreadable, sharp yet measured, scanning the scene before him your hands still clasped in Earl Grey’s, the warmth between you unmistakable, the way your friends had suddenly gone completely silent. But more than that, he felt different. The air around him carried weight, the kind of presence that made words feel insignificant. And then, your eyes dropped to his hands.

Your notebook.

Your forgotten notebook.

Your stomach twisted.

Shadow Milk Cookie lifted it slightly, his voice smooth, yet oddly restrained.

“I believe this belongs to you.”

You hesitated, barely breathing as you reached for it. Your fingers brushed against his just for a second, fleeting but tangible. His gaze did not waver. “…Thanks,” you murmured, your voice smaller than you meant it to be. For a moment, neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The world shrank down to the inches of space between you, the unspoken questions hanging in the air, thick as ink spilled over parchment. Then, slowly, his eyes shifted not to your notebook, not even to you, but to Earl Grey. You barely noticed the way Earl’s fingers subtly pulled away from yours.

The moment stretched. Too long. Too quiet. Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze flickered back to yours, something unreadable in his expression something composed, but not detached. Something lingering. “Try not to leave it behind next time,” he said, his voice perfectly even. Then, without another word, he turned, steps sweeping behind him, disappearing as quickly as he came. You exhaled shakily, suddenly hyper-aware of the tension hanging in the air.

Hazelnut Biscotti cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “…Sooo. That was dramatic.”

Chai Latte snapped out of her daze and smacked his arm. “Hazel, shut up!”

“I’m just saying! That was a moment.”

Earl Grey took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, expression unreadable. “Intriguing.” But you weren’t listening. Because Shadow Milk Cookie had left. But something stayed. A presence, an impression, a lingering sense of something unspoken yet undeniable. And for the first time, you wondered…Was this a line being crossed? Or a boundary being drawn?

Your fingers curled around your notebook, grip tightening as your mind tried and failed to catch up with what had just transpired. You stared at the door Shadow Milk Cookie had disappeared through, heart pounding, an unsettled feeling creeping up your spine.

“…What just happened?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud might make it make sense.

Hazelnut Biscotti let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Oh, you’re in trouble.”

You turned to him, eyes wide with something close to panic. “What do you mean I’m in trouble? Should I- should I go after him? Should I just leave it? What do I do?”

Hazelnut leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I mean, if it were me, I’d probably start worrying about Earl here.”

Earl Grey blinked. “Pardon?”

“Yeah,” Hazelnut continued, as if he were making some grand revelation. “You should probably watch your back from now on.”

You paled slightly. “What? Why? What did he do”

“Relax,” he said, waving a hand dismissively as he turned to Earl Grey. “He wouldn’t do anything. You’re (y/n)’s friend. But if looks could kill? Earl’d be a goner.”

Earl Grey exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment. “You are truly a master of easing tension.”

“I try,” Hazelnut Biscotti said, grinning. You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. “No, but…what do I do?” You looked toward the door again, heart still thrumming against your ribs. “Do I go after him? Do I just pretend that didn’t happen?”

Chai Latte finally leaned in, resting her chin in her palm, gaze softer than usual. “Well,” she said, tilting her head, “if I were him, and I walked in on that little moment between you and Earl? I’d probably be spiraling.”

You stiffened. “What…why?” Chai gestured vaguely toward where your hands had been clasped just minutes ago. “I mean, come on. If you were an outsider looking in, that whole moment looked intimate.”

You hesitated. “But Earl and I-”

“I know it wasn’t that kind of moment,” Chai interrupted, waving a hand. “But if he did or didn’t hear the full conversation? If he just saw you two, holding hands, looking all serious and soft with each other?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I’d be spiraling.” Hazelnut Biscotti nodded solemnly. “I mean, you were looking at Earl Grey like he hung the stars for you.” Earl Grey sighed. “You are really not helping.”

You groaned again, covering your face with both hands. “I wasn’t! I mean, maybe a little? But that was just…he was just giving me advice! I needed to hear that from him!”

Chai tapped her fingers against the table. “And now Shadow Milk thinks you’re running off to elope.”

Hazelnut Biscotti let out a loud snort. “You should’ve seen his face. That was the face of a man having an epiphany he wasn’t ready for.”

You peeked at her through your fingers. “Are you guys sure he was…?”

Chai Latte gave you an exasperated look. “Do you really think he’d show up here just to return a notebook? He wanted to see you.” You opened your mouth, then closed it.

“Oh no,” you whispered. “Oh no no no.” Hazelnut Biscotti clapped a hand over his mouth, clearly thriving on your panic. “They’re realizing.” Earl Grey, ever composed, simply sighed. “Would you like to calm down before you decide what to do?”

You didn’t respond immediately. Your brain was moving too fast, rewinding through every interaction you’d ever had with Shadow Milk Cookie, trying to pinpoint the exact moment you had somehow caused this mess.

“I have to talk to him,” you said finally, voice firm even though your heart was still a frantic mess. Chai Latte smiled, just slightly. “That’s probably a good idea.” Hazelnut Biscotti looked vaguely disappointed. “So no eloping?”

Chai smacked his arm. “Shut up.” You barely registered their bickering, already grabbing your notebook and standing on shaky legs. Whatever just happened you needed answers. You barely registered the scrape of your chair as you pushed back from the table, the voices of your friends fading into background noise as your pulse roared in your ears.

You had to go after him.

Your legs carried you before your mind fully caught up, weaving through the dining hall’s thinning crowd, past lingering students, out into the dim corridors of the Academy. You caught a glimpse of him ahead, his clothes moving fluidly with every step, his pace measured but unwavering. He wasn’t storming off, wasn’t making a scene, but there was a distance in his stride that you felt.

A deliberate parting.

The kind that hurt.

“Shadow Milk!”

Your voice cut through the hush of the hall, sharp, urgent. Eyes watching but he didn’t stop. You picked up your pace, practically jogging to catch up, your heart hammering wildly.

“Shadow Milk Cookie, wait!”

At last, he halted.

But he didn’t turn right away.

You could see the tension in his shoulders, the subtle way his hands curled into fists at his sides before relaxing again. It was as if he was composing himself building walls you hadn’t even realized you were capable of breaking. When he finally faced you, his eyes were not cold, not indifferent, but guarded.

“I returned your notebook,” he said, voice even.

“That’s not-” You exhaled sharply, stepping closer. “That’s not the only reason why you left.”

“No,” he admitted. You hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. But there was something else in the way he looked at you, something just beneath the surface, something aching. You swallowed. “Then why?”

His gaze flickered, just barely. Then, in a voice quieter but no less sharp.

“You turned to him.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“Earl Grey Cookie,” he said, his expression unwavering. “You looked to him for the answers you sought. Not me.”

A strange, unfamiliar panic clawed its way up your throat. “I-I didn’t” You took another step forward, shaking your head. “That wasn’t-”

“You asked him,” Shadow Milk continued, and this time, there was an edge to his voice, something rawer than you’d ever heard from him before. “You held his hands. You let him be the one to give you certainty.” You stared at him, chest tightening. How much had he heard? Not like it mattered but still. You wondered if he had really good hearing, or if you lacked spatial awareness…maybe both. Still you had to say something anything.

“Because you never do!” The words left you before you could stop them, too loud, too vulnerable. They hung in the space between you, trembling, fragile. Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes darkened just slightly. “And do you believe I would give you falsehoods?”

“No!” You ran a hand through your hair, exasperated. “That’s not what I…god, you always do this! You always make me untangle things myself, always guide me but never say anything outright! I needed something clear, something solid!” Something you wouldn’t dance around like a riddle. Something you wouldn’t have to question.

His jaw tightened just slightly. “And you believed Earl Grey was the one to provide that?”

You faltered, breath uneven. “I just” You swallowed, hands curling into fists at your sides. “I don’t know. Maybe. I needed to hear it from someone. That what I feel is real.”

“And my actions have not made it real?” His voice was lower now, careful, but lined with something sharp.

Your heart twisted. “That’s not what I meant,” you whispered. A silence stretched between you, heavy and taut. Then, quietly he asked “Do you not trust me?”

Your breath stilled.

You looked up at him, at the slight furrow in his brow, at the rare, barely perceptible hesitance in his expression. His eyes held you in place, searching; waiting.

“I do,” you murmured. “I do trust you.”

Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for the briefest moment. “Then tell me, scholar.” His voice was softer now, but no less serious. “What is it that you seek from me?”

You hesitated.

“I-” Your fingers trembled at your sides. “I don’t know.” A long pause.

“Would you like me to name it?” Your breath caught. Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze was steady, unreadable. His posture was composed, but there was something behind it, something that made your chest ache. For a moment, you stood frozen, the weight of the question pressing against your ribs.

Would you?

Would having a name for this make it easier? Would it make it real in a way you were both too scared to face? This is what you wanted is it not?

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Shadow Milk studied you for a long moment, then, without a word, he let out a quiet breath.

“…Then we wait.”

You swallowed thickly. “…Wait?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable once more. “Until you are ready to cross the line you claim neither of us dares to step over.”

The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding came out shakily. He wasn’t giving you riddles. He was giving you the choice. The realization hit you with startling clarity. Shadow Milk had never been holding you back. He had been waiting for you to step forward. You let out something between a breathless laugh and a sigh, rubbing your temples. “You’re impossible.”

A faint hum. “So I’ve been told.”

You glanced up at him, expression softening. “Shadow Milk-” He tilted his head slightly. “Yes?”

You studied him for a moment, the way he watched you patient, unwavering, genuine

“…I’ll see you tomorrow,” you murmured.

Shadow Milk’s lips curled, barely perceptible. “Tomorrow,” he echoed.

You walked back toward your friends, feeling the weight of the conversation settle in your chest like an unfinished sentence, words unsaid, truths skirted around, both of you sidestepping the things that felt too fragile, too dangerous to bring into the light. Nothing had been resolved. Not really. All you had done was push it aside, tuck it neatly away like a book neither of you were ready to read, ignoring the way the pages still ached to be turned.

And so, you let it rest for now. When you reached your table, the atmosphere had simmered down. The initial chaos of your sudden departure had faded, replaced by the quiet hum of conversation, half-eaten plates, and stolen glances in your direction. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie was the first to speak.

“Hey, uh-” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking genuinely sheepish. “Sorry about earlier. I got a little carried away.” His gaze flicked to Chai Latte. “I’m apologizing…Partly because someone nearly yanked my arm out of its socket.”

Chai Latte huffed, arms crossed. “You deserved it.”

“But also because I-” He exhaled, looking at you more seriously. “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I thought I was being funny, but I should’ve read the room better.”

You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. “It’s okay, really.”

“It’s not, though.” Hazelnut Biscotti frowned. “That was a whole thing. And I guess I kinda made it into even more of a thing.”

Earl Grey Cookie, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke. “It’s not your fault,” he said smoothly, setting his teacup down with precise grace.

“And perhaps… maybe I was in the wrong. A little bit.” Chai Latte immediately turned to him, eyes narrowing. “Oh, don’t you start.”

Earl Grey gave her a look of polite skepticism. “You don’t think I was at least partially responsible?”

“You did nothing wrong,” Chai declared, shaking her head. “Seriously, what is with all of you acting like you committed some grand crime?”

Hazelnut Biscotti raised a hand. “To be fair, you literally just scolded me.”

“Yes, because you turned it into a whole dramatic scene,” Chai shot back, before gesturing vaguely to Earl Grey. “But him? He was just sitting there, minding his own business, and then boom he’s caught in some weird, unspoken relationship war.”

You winced. “Please don’t call it that.”

“Then what should I call it?” Chai asked, giving you an exasperated look. You hesitated, lips pressing together. Chai let out a long sigh. “See? This is the problem.”

Hazelnut snorted into his drink. “She’s got a point.”

Earl Grey, ever composed, simply hummed. “Regardless, I meant what I said earlier,” he said, meeting your gaze with something softer than his usual impassiveness. “You’re not alone in this.”

Your chest ached, but in a way that felt warm. “…Thanks,” you murmured.

Chai Latte reached out and flicked your forehead lightly. “You stress me out,” she grumbled. “I’m stealing your desserts for a week.”

“That’s excessive,” you protested. She raised a brow. “You’ll let me.” You groaned, but didn’t argue. The tension from earlier wasn’t entirely gone but here, in the company of your friends, it didn’t feel as suffocating. Though nothing was fixed not yet it was enough to know that you didn’t have to carry it alone. Still though, Chai latte just had to ask…

“Soooo…What happened?”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair as you finally finished recounting everything. Your friends sat in varying states of contemplation, processing the storm of emotions you had just unraveled before them.

Hazelnut Biscotti was the first to break the silence. “…Okay, first of all, damn.”

Chai Latte Cookie let out a slow, theatrical breath, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I told you this was a slow-burn academic tragedy waiting to happen.”

Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, leaned back slightly, studying you. “So… that’s where you left things?” His voice was careful, like he was handling something delicate.

You nodded, still feeling the echo of Shadow Milk’s words in your chest. “Yeah. I-I don’t know if I handled it right. He looked… I don’t know. Disappointed? Or maybe just done with this whole thing.”

Chai Latte shook her head. “No, no, no…he’s not done. He just threw the ball into your court. He’s waiting.” Hazelnut Biscotti looked deep in thought. “I mean… he literally asked if you wanted him to name it. You could’ve had all the answers right then and there.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the table. “I know! But I panicked!”

Earl Grey sighed, fingers steepled. “It’s understandable. Naming something makes it real.”

“Exactly,” you muttered, lifting your head just slightly. “And what if once we say it, we can’t go back? What if it changes everything? What if I’m wrong?”

Chai gave you a pointed look. “Are you?”

You hesitated. “No,” you admitted softly.

Hazelnut Biscotti smirked. “There it is.”

Chai clapped her hands together. “Alright, so you do love him.” You immediately recoiled. “I never said-!”

“You never denied,” she sing-songed, leaning in closer.

Earl Grey merely raised a brow. “You have feelings for him. That much is clear.” You rolled your eyes, feeling entirely too seen.

Hazelnut Biscotti snickered. “I’m just saying, if you’re gonna elope with him, warn us first. I need to know what kind of outfit is required for a ‘Fount of Knowledge’ wedding.”

Chai immediately turned and shook him. “Shut up.” Earl Grey pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hazelnut, please.”

You could feel your face burning. “We are not eloping!” Hazelnut Biscotti only grinned. “Yet.”

You buried your face in your hands again. “I hate all of you.” Chai patted your shoulder, but there was an undeniable gleam in her eyes. “You love us.” You muttered something incomprehensible into your hands.

Earl Grey, sensing that you were moments from combusting, redirected the conversation. “Jokes aside,” he said evenly, “you’re going to have to talk to him again.”

You let out a breath, still not looking up. “I know.” Chai nudged your side. “And what’s the plan?”

“…Survive.”

Hazelnut Biscotti shot you a glance. “Not a great plan.”

Earl Grey sighed. “At least be honest with yourself.” You let your hands fall from your face, finally looking up at them at the concern, the support, the absolute lack of judgment.

“…I just need time,” you admitted. Chai Latte gave you a soft smile. “Then take it. But don’t take forever.”

Hazelnut raised his cup. “To our poor, lovesick friend, may they figure this mess out before we all die of old age.” You groaned but clinked your cup against his anyway.

Earl Grey simply shook his head, but you could see the quiet amusement in his eyes. You sighed, slumping forward onto the table, your hands tangled in your hair as the weight of everything settled heavily in your chest.

“So, what do I do?” you asked, your voice muffled. “I didn’t fix anything. We didn’t actually talk about it. I just ran after him, panicked, and now it feels like we shoved everything under the rug again.”

Chai Latte Cookie hummed, sipping her tea before giving you a thoughtful look. “Well… you could talk to him.”

Hazelnut Biscotti snorted. “A revolutionary idea.”

You shot him a glare. “You know what I mean. What if he’s actually upset with me? What if he thinks I don’t trust him? What if I made things worse?”

Earl Grey Cookie tapped his fingers against the table. “Do you really believe that?”

You hesitated.

“...I don’t know,” you admitted, pressing your forehead against your palm. “Maybe? I mean, he did leave. That means something, right? If he wasn’t upset, he would’ve stayed.”

Chai Latte reached out, flicking your arm lightly. “He was upset. But not in the way you think. If he was actually angry at you, do you really think he would’ve stood there, listened to you, offered to name whatever it is between you?”

Earl Grey nodded. “He’s waiting. That much is clear. But you’re right about one thing, this conversation isn’t over. It’s just on hold.”

Hazelnut Biscotti leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. “So, how do you unpause it?” You stared at the table, feeling the pit of uncertainty clawing at your stomach.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I want to talk to him, but how do I even start? ‘Hey, sorry I looked to someone else for answers because I was scared of what yours would be’? Yeah, that sounds great.”

Chai sighed dramatically. “If only there were a world-renowned scholar of truth and knowledge who could help you work through the answers you’re looking for.” You shot her a flat look. “Helpful.”

“I am helpful,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “But seriously, you’re overthinking this.”

Hazelnut Biscotti snickered. “Like that’s new.” Earl Grey ignored him. “Start simple. He’s always been someone who gives you the space to figure things out, hasn’t he?”

You frowned. “Yeah…”

“Then take that space. But don’t leave it empty,” Earl Grey said. “If you don’t want him to think you’re avoiding the conversation entirely, show him that you’re still there.”

Chai smirked. “Or, you know, just ambush him in his office and demand he help you understand what you want.”

“That’s what I always do,” you groaned. Hazelnut clapped your shoulder. “Then you’re already ahead of the curve.” You shook your head, laughing despite the tightness in your chest. “You guys are terrible at giving normal advice.”

“We’re terrible at normal in general,” Chai corrected. Earl Grey sipped his tea. “You don’t need a perfect plan. Just take a step forward.” You exhaled, rubbing your temples. “Alright. Fine. I’ll figure something out.”

Hazelnut grinned. “That’s the spirit. Now, if you do elope, can I officiate?” Chai immediately lunged at him, and you buried your face in your hands again. You had no idea how you were going to fix this. You let out a groan, dragging your hands down your face before dropping your head onto the table.

“Why doesn’t he just take the lead?” you grumbled, voice muffled by the wood. “Why does it always have to be me asking the questions? Why does he answer every single one with another question? Shouldn’t he be the one to fix things?”

Chai Latte Cookie let out a soft snort, sipping her tea with amusement. “You do realize who you’re talking about, right?”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “Yeah, we’re talking about the Sage of Truth. Mr. ‘The Answers Lie Within You,’ Mr. ‘Have You Considered the Implications of Your Own Inquiry?’ Mr.-”

“Alright, alright,” you groaned, waving a hand to cut him off. “I get it.”

Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, tilted his head slightly. “Do you really want him to ‘fix’ this? Or do you want him to say something you’re too afraid to say first?” You huffed, crossing your arms. “Both.”

Chai Latte smirked. “Oh, so now you want him to tell you what to do?”

You slumped further into your seat. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” You lifted your head just enough to glare at them. “I’m allowed to rant.”

Hazelnut Biscotti leaned back, grinning. “Of course. Please, go on about how the all-knowing scholar should do all the emotional labor for you.”

You groaned again, flopping back into your chair. “I don’t mean it like that! It’s just…he always makes me figure things out on my own. Even now, when it’s us. It’s like he’s waiting for me to piece together some grand revelation, and I’m just” You gestured wildly. “floundering around like an idiot.”

Chai Latte patted your shoulder, not unkindly. “Sweetheart, you’re always floundering.”

“Not helping.”

Earl Grey, who had been quietly observing, finally sighed. “He’s not doing this to frustrate you.” You huffed. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“He’s giving you control,” Earl Grey continued, voice calm. “If he were to take the lead and define this for you, that would mean he’s the one deciding what it is. That’s not how he operates. You know that.”

You opened your mouth, ready to argue but then you paused. Because, well… he wasn’t wrong. Shadow Milk Cookie never imposed his truth onto others. That wasn’t his way. He let others seek, find, discover and let them come to their own conclusions. So of course, when it came to this, to you he wasn’t going to define it for you.

You slumped, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Ugh.”

Hazelnut Biscotti raised a brow. “That’s it? Just ‘ugh’?”

“Yes.” You gestured vaguely. “Just… ugh.”

Chai Latte laughed. “You really are hopeless.”

Earl Grey simply took another sip of tea. “You don’t have to figure everything out tonight.” You sighed. “I know.”

Hazelnut Biscotti smirked. “But for the record, if you do decide to confess dramatically, let me know so I can sell tickets.”

Chai Latte smacked him on the arm. This was going to be a long night. Not just for you, but for poor Hazelnut’s arm…

The following day anxiety ate away at your will. The sun had barely crested the horizon when the four of you found yourselves huddled together in the main hall, where the announcement would be posted.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with anticipation and unspoken prayers. The events of the night prior still lingered in your mind Shadow Milk Cookie, his unreadable expression, the weight of everything left unsaid but right now, there was only this.

The results.

The Spire of Knowledge’s early decisions.

Chai Latte Cookie bounced on the balls of her feet, hands clasped together like she was physically holding herself back from sprinting straight to the notice board.

“I hate this,” she whispered dramatically. “Why do they make it feel like we’re awaiting some divine judgment? Just post the names and let us live.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie cracked his knuckles, squinting at the large parchment still being pinned to the board by one of the faculty assistants. “I say we just charge in. Strength in numbers. If we’re gonna be disappointed, let’s at least be disappointed together.”

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching at your sides. The weight of weeks, months of inadvertent effort, of sleepless nights and endless study sessions, pressed against your chest.

You thought of the research statement, the carefully compiled portfolio, the nights spent poring over notes until your vision blurred. You thought of Shadow Milk Cookie’s revisions, of the way he had taken your work and strengthened it with a precision only he could wield.

You thought of him, and what it would mean if your name wasn’t there. Earl Grey Cookie, the only one among you who appeared remotely composed, adjusted his cuffs. “It’s posted,” he murmured.

Chai Latte let out a tiny noise of distress. The four of you exchanged glances. Then, all at once, you surged forward. The notice board loomed in front of you, names scrawled in elegant script beneath the seal of the Academy. Students rushing towards the board didn’t help your anxiety. Your eyes scanned frantically, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

Then-

You found it.

Your name.

It was there.

You got in.

A sharp breath left you, disbelief crashing over you in waves. For a moment, you could only stare, the words blurring as something deep and overwhelming settled into your bones. Relief. Joy. Maybe even a little fear, knowing what came next.

“YES!” Chai Latte Cookie practically screamed. “WE DID IT!” Your head snapped toward the list again, your hands shaking as you searched for their names. There, Earl Grey Cookie. Chai Latte Cookie. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie.

All of you.

You all got in.

“Holy!” Hazelnut Biscotti choked out a laugh, gripping Earl Grey Cookie’s shoulder and shaking him slightly. “We did it! We actually ha!”

He ran a hand through his hair, grinning like a fool. “This isn’t a dream, right?” Earl Grey Cookie exhaled slowly, a rare, pleased smile tugging at his lips. “It would appear that it is not.”

“Oh my gods,” Chai Latte Cookie wheezed, clutching your arm like she needed to steady herself.

“I was so ready to start crying. I was so ready to throw myself into the abyss of despair.” Hazelnut Biscotti laughed, light and full of life, and suddenly, it felt real. You turned back to your name, tracing over the letters with your eyes like they might vanish if you blinked too hard. You did it.

You were going to the Spire.

You let out a breathless laugh, your chest feeling so full you thought you might burst. Your friends were still celebrating beside you Chai Latte was gripping Earl Grey Cookie’s sleeve and shaking it wildly, Hazelnut Biscotti was dramatically wiping an invisible tear from his eye but all you could do was stare at your name, committing it to memory.

Then, without thinking, you turned to them, voice shaking with laughter. “We actually did it.” Chai Latte Cookie let out a small, breathless sound that might’ve been a laugh or a sob. “We did.” Hazelnut Biscotti threw an arm around your shoulders, grinning ear to ear. “You’re stuck with us now. There’s no going back.”

Earl Grey Cookie gave a quiet chuckle, nodding. “Indeed. The Spire won’t know what hit it.” And as the excitement buzzed through the air, filling the space between you and them, between the past and the future, between the uncertainty of last night and the surety of this moment. You realized something.

Even with all the unanswered questions.

Even with the ache in your chest that hadn’t yet faded.

Right now, this was enough.

For just a little while longer, you let yourself celebrate.

The moment the realization hit that you had made it, that all of you had made it was the same moment the rest of the Academy surged forward. Or perhaps in your own excitement you hadn’t noticed it…

A tidal wave of students pressed in, eager, desperate to see their own names among the chosen. The quiet tension that had filled the hall just moments ago shattered into an excited frenzy as hopeful scholars rushed to the board, jostling against one another, voices rising in overlapping cries of victory, disbelief, and, in some cases, quiet disappointment.

The four of you barely had a moment to bask in your triumph before the wave of bodies closed in. “Oh!” Chai Latte Cookie yelped as she was nearly knocked off balance, gripping your sleeve like a lifeline. “Chaos! Absolute chaos! I love it!”

“MOVE!” a particularly aggressive student bellowed, elbowing their way toward the list. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie barely sidestepped a flailing arm. “Okay! Okay! We got our results, time to retreat!”

“We can’t retreat!” Chai Latte Cookie shot back, clinging to you as the crowd pressed in tighter. “We have to bask!”

“There is no basking in a stampede,” Earl Grey Cookie muttered, though even he had to take a careful step back, his usual composure momentarily disturbed by the sheer force of bodies colliding around him. You barely managed to keep your footing as someone stumbled past, their arm nearly knocking the air from your lungs.

The press of students was relentless, an eager, anxious current sweeping through the hall like a flood. For every scholar who cried out in joy, another walked away in tense silence, their shoulders stiff with disappointment. For the four of you, though for you and your friends it was nothing but exhilaration.

“We did it,” you gasped out, ducking slightly as someone leaned in too close to read the names. “We actually did it.”

“Yes, and we will continue doing it if we can get out of here alive,” Earl Grey Cookie noted dryly. Chai Latte Cookie beamed, gripping Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s arm as she practically bounced in place. “I thrive in this energy. It’s like an academic battlefield.”

“We need to move before someone accidentally takes us out,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said, already maneuvering away from the thickest part of the crowd.

You didn’t argue. Pushing through the mass of bodies wasn’t easy, but eventually, the four of you managed to escape, stumbling into the open hallway where the air was clearer, where you could breathe. Eventually finding a table. And that’s when it finally sank in.

No more wondering.

No more waiting.

No more agonizing over whether your name would be there.

You were going to the Spire of Knowledge.

Chai Latte Cookie turned to all of you, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. Then, suddenly, brightly she laughed. “We did it.”

This time, there was no rush of students, no chaotic crowd, no distractions.

Just the four of you.

Just the weight of this moment.

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “Yeah,” he breathed. “We did.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on its two back legs. “Okay, but why does it feel like such a big deal? The Spire is literally brand new. It’s not like there are centuries of tradition tied to it.”

You sighed, tapping your fingers against your tea cup. “Because it’s not just about the Spire. It’s about him.”

Chai Latte Cookie pointed at you in triumph. “See? You get it!”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course, I do. The Spire is being built in his name. It’s not just an extension of the Academy…it’s his legacy.”

Earl Grey Cookie gave a small nod. “Exactly. The ceremony isn’t just for the scholars who got accepted. It’s also for Shadow Milk Cookie; he's being formally named the Fount of Knowledge. That title isn’t just honorary. It means he’s the first of his kind, the foundation upon which the Spire will be built.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low whistle. “No pressure or anything.”

You let out a slow breath, staring down at the steam curling from your cup. You’d known all of this, but hearing it said aloud framed like this made it feel heavier. Chai Latte Cookie, of course, picked up on it immediately. “And you,” she added, leaning in with a grin, “get to have a front-row seat to all of it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I’m literally just a student. And you know we won’t be in the front row.”

Chai Latte Cookie gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “How dare you reduce yourself to such a common title! You are his student. The most special student.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “Maybe he’ll mention you in his speech.” Chai Latte Cookie gasped again, dramatically this time. “‘To my most persistent and exasperating scholar…’”

You deadpanned. “Can we not do this right now?” Earl Grey Cookie smirked, but his voice was even. “It’s understandable if it feels overwhelming. This is more than just an achievement for you it’s entwined with him.”

That was the part that made your stomach twist. Because of course it was entwined with him. Your acceptance into the Spire, your entire academic growth, everything had been shaped by him in some way. He had challenged you, guided you, waited for you in ways that even now you weren’t entirely sure how to name.

And now, as the Spire’s foundation settled into place, he was at the center of it. Chai Latte Cookie gave you a softer look, resting her chin on her palm. “Have you even asked him how he feels about all of this?”

You blinked. “…I guess not.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nudged your arm. “You should. You are his” He wiggled his brows. “favorite.”

Chai Latte Cookie clasped her hands together. “Ooooh, what if he really does mention you in his speech? ‘And to the scholar who nearly burned down my office…’”

“I hate all of you. And for the record I didn’t come close to burning anything…I just thought I could do a magic trick…”

Earl Grey Cookie sipped his tea, unconcerned.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Okay, so just to clarify…there’s no dramatic tradition yet, right? No elaborate robes, no candlelit rites of passage, no century-old academic oaths?”

Chai Latte Cookie shrugged. “Nope. Just a very official ceremony.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “With him in the spotlight.”

Chai Latte Cookie shot you a knowing look. “And you watching from the front row.”

You exhaled sharply, tapping your fingers against the table before finally blurting out, "I have to face him today."

Your friends stilled for a moment before Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low whistle, setting his cup down with exaggerated care. “Wow. You sound like you’re about to march into battle.”

Chai Latte Cookie, ever dramatic, pressed a hand to her forehead. “A noble warrior, braving the battlefield of emotional confrontation.” You shot her a flat look. “I mean it. I can’t just ignore what happened last night. If I don’t talk to him, it’s just gonna sit there, all weird and unspoken.”

Earl Grey Cookie hummed, ever composed. “That does seem like the wisest course of action.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “Yeah, no offense, but watching you both avoid the actual problem is kind of exhausting.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I know! And I hate it! Why does he always answer my questions with more questions? Why can’t he just take the lead for once and fix things?” Chai Latte Cookie grinned, resting her chin on her palm. “Oh, you’re mad mad.”

“I’m frustrated,” you corrected, lifting your head. “Why does everything have to be a slow-burn philosophical riddle with him? I ask him one thing, and suddenly I’m left wondering if I even know what I’m asking.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie pointed at you. “That’s a you problem.” You shot him a betrayed look. Earl Grey Cookie finally sighed, placing his teacup down.

“You should know by now that Shadow Milk Cookie has never been the kind to force things. He waits. He guides. But he will not define this for you, no matter how much you want him to.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “…So it is on me.”

Chai Latte Cookie shrugged. “Pretty much.” You inhaled deeply, then exhaled through your nose. “Fine. I’ll talk to him. I’ll fix yesterday. And then we can all sit in a circle and sing kumbaya together like civilized people.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie burst out laughing. “Oh yeah. That’s totally what’s gonna happen.” Earl Grey Cookie gave you a knowing look. “You’re aware this might not resolve everything in one conversation.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But I have to try.”

Chai Latte Cookie grinned, nudging your arm. “That’s the spirit. Now go on, brave scholar. Face your fate.” You huffed, rolling your eyes but standing anyway. Your heart pounded as you pushed back from the table, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. This wasn’t going to be easy. But nothing worth holding onto ever was.You marched down the corridors of the Scholar’s Wing with renewed determination, your friends’ words still echoing in your ears. Face it. Fix it. That was the plan. No more avoiding. No more waiting. The heavy wooden door of Shadow Milk Cookie’s office loomed ahead, its familiar presence oddly reassuring. You knocked thrice out of habit more than anything before pushing it open, already preparing to dive straight into conversation.

But the room was empty.

You blinked.

For a moment, you hesitated, hand still gripping the door handle as you scanned the space. The usual air of careful organization lingered the scent of parchment, ink, and something faintly celestial. The room looked exactly as it always did, as if time itself hesitated to disturb it in his absence.

But he wasn’t here.

You frowned. It wasn’t like him to leave his office unlocked if he wasn’t expecting someone. Did he step out for a moment? Get caught in some impromptu meeting? You had no idea.

Your gaze drifted toward his desk. More specifically, his chair. It looked… comfortable. Too comfortable for someone who spent so much time seated in it. Sturdy, elegant, high-backed and well-worn from years of use.

The kind of chair that radiated both authority and the promise of unparalleled back support. You glanced at the door behind you. Then back at the chair. Well. He wasn’t here. And you’d come all this way. What was the harm? Without a second thought, you strode forward and lowered yourself into the seat. And immediately understood why he sat here so often.

“Ohhh,” you muttered under your breath, leaning back against the plush cushion. “This is dangerous.” The chair cradled you in luxury, the perfect balance of support and comfort.

You stretched your arms over your head before resting them against the armrests with a sigh of satisfaction. No wonder he always looked so composed. With a chair like this, you could solve existential dilemmas and nap without consequence.

Your gaze flicked to the neatly stacked papers on the desk. From here, the entire office looked different. His perspective, not yours. This was where he sat when he pondered over ancient texts, where he rested his chin in thought while listening to you struggle through complex theories.

A strange thrill ran through you at the thought. You drummed your fingers against the desk. I could get used to this. Smirking slightly to yourself, you mimicked his usual poised demeanor, lacing your fingers together and resting your chin atop them. “Hmmm,” you mused in your best impression of his voice, “and what is it, that you wish to unravel today?” You snorted at your own ridiculousness, shaking your head. Maybe this was the real source of his power an excellent chair and a great vantage point.

You barely had time to revel in your success before you heard the faint click of the door handle turning behind you.

Your stomach plummeted.

Oh no.

The second you heard the door handle turn, panic took over. Every logical thought vanished, replaced by one singular, all-consuming instinct: hide.

Without thinking, you dropped.

One second you were basking in the absolute power of Shadow Milk Cookie’s chair; the next, you were crouched on the floor, heart hammering in your chest, palms pressed against the cool stone beneath you.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

You barely had time to scramble into a somewhat reasonable position before the door swung open. Footsteps graceful, measured, and all too familiar crossed the threshold. You squeezed your eyes shut for half a second, bracing yourself. Silence.

“…I see,” came the calm, level voice of Shadow Milk Cookie. You did not see. You didn’t see anything. You were on the floor. You cracked one eye open. From your incredibly dignified position below the desk, you could just barely make out his shoes and the pointed dip of his shadow against the floor. He hadn’t moved past the doorway yet, meaning he was

Probably staring at this entire mess. Slowly, carefully, you tilted your head up just a fraction. Shadow Milk Cookie stood in the doorway, eyes fixed on you. He was holding a book in one hand, as if he’d been carrying it absentmindedly. His brows were slightly raised, but beyond that, he conveyed nothing. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Dare I ask,” he continued smoothly, “what you are doing?” Your mind went blank. Every excuse you could think of was horrible.

There was no reasonable explanation for this. You scrambled for words, for dignity, for anything. “I uh” You cleared your throat, shifting slightly. “I was looking for something.”

He blinked. “Under my desk?”

“Y-yes?”

Shadow Milk Cookie’s expression did not change. “And did you find it?”

You hesitated. “Not… yet?” A pause.

“I see.”

You had no idea what he saw, but you knew it was bad. Your hands twitched against the floor. Should you just commit to this? Stay here forever? Was this your life now? He took one step closer, barely brushing the edge of the desk. “And, if I may, what exactly were you searching for?” You opened your mouth then shut it. You could not say ‘my dignity.’

“…Something important,” you said vaguely. Another silence. Then, to your absolute horror, his voice dropped into something… thoughtful. “I could assist,” he mused, as if genuinely considering it. “If it is so crucial, surely a second pair of eyes would-”

“NO.”

Your panic made your voice slightly too loud, slightly too fast. You winced immediately. Shadow Milk Cookie arched a single, elegant brow. You scrambled, waving your hands. “I mean no, no need. I got it! All good!”

“…Is that so?”

“Yep. I-uh-I should probably get up now.” Shadow Milk Cookie gestured, utterly composed. “By all means.”

Very slowly, very awkwardly, you shuffled out from under the desk, brushing off nonexistent dust and avoiding his gaze as much as possible. You straightened your back, willing yourself to look casual completely normal.

His eyes flickered to the chair.

Back to you.

A moment passed.

“…You sat in it, didn’t you?”

You froze.

Your silence was incriminating enough. Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled, closing his eyes briefly, as if collecting some last shred of patience. “I would ask if it was everything you dreamed,” he murmured, “but I suspect I already know the answer.”

You, still wildly off balance, had the audacity to cross your arms. “Listen, in my defense-”

“There is no defense.”

“You weren’t here!” Shadow Milk Cookie sighed through his nose, shaking his head in a way that somehow managed to be fond despite everything. You, still flustered beyond repair, threw your hands up. “Okay, fine! I sat in the chair. It was dangerously comfortable. But you weren’t here, so what was I supposed to do? Stand? Like some kind of commoner?”

“You are a student,” he pointed out.

“Semantics.”

“Order.”

“Semantics.”

A long, drawn-out sigh. “You are truly impossible.”

You grinned, recovering just barely. “And yet, here I stand. Not banished from your office.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave you a slow, unreadable look. Then, finally he turned, setting his book down atop the desk. “For now.” Your victory was minor, but you took it.

And as he settled into his chair, you couldn’t help but eye it one last time, mourning the sheer luxury you had just lost. Maybe if you were subtle, you could try again. The playful air between you wavered. Just slightly. Because even though Shadow Milk Cookie matched your banter with effortless grace, even though he sighed in that way that made it seem like you were merely an amusing puzzle to him yesterday still lingered between you, unspoken, unresolved. You could pretend things were fine. He certainly wouldn’t stop you.

But as he settled into his chair, the one you had just vacated you hesitated. Your gaze flickered up to his, searching. He didn’t look upset, not exactly. But he was composed in that way that felt too careful, like a book shut too quickly before you could finish reading the last sentence. It made something in your chest tighten. You fidgeted slightly, fingers curling against the hem of your sleeve. “…Are we okay?”

Shadow Milk Cookie stilled. For a moment, the room was quiet just the faint hum of the enchantments woven into the walls, the soft rustle of his sleeves as he adjusted his posture. Then he sighed, long and slow, like the weight of the question was something he had already anticipated.

“I have no quarrel with you,” he said, voice as even as ever. That wasn’t the same as we’re okay.

A/N So it's been a while since I last posted so sorry to keep you all starved, I hope this makes up for it next chapter is coming out soon just need to finish editing it but I thought may as well let you guys read this while I finish ch 26 edits and revisions, I have to say I'm not entirely happy with this chapter but I hope that I'm just being overly critical of my own work.

Anyways....

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥

<<<Previous Next>>>

280 notes · View notes

odhdhs · 3 months ago

Text

"The Birds and The Feathers"(+Art)

Just a pretty swan in its nest by the lake living its best life....until these avians decided you are their target of affection.

Broken grammar, Swan!Reader x Avian Constellation characters {Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao, Ayaka, Layla, Al Haitham, Kaveh, Fischl}, GN!Reader, Modern AU(?), the reader is oblivious(?), non-establish relationship, you are "that one neighbour" type of thing feral-like behaviour, everyone acting similar to their representation bird, hints of yandere, possessive and obsessive behaviour, a bit of suggestive if you squint.

------

Note : Human with bird wings! Nest refers to everyone's own house, You are a swimming trainer at your local pool.

Note (13 May) : this was drafted before Mika appearance and during Kaveh first appearance (so no Mehrak)! So thats why he isnt here,and im already drained to add him

Kaeya {Pavo Ocellus//Peacock}

My my, a pretty bird isn't he? Your charismatic neighbour who would greet you with that bright smile of his.

He is that one neighbour who is always curious about your activity but won't pester you much if you refuse to answer, respecting your boundaries.

Checking up on you seems to be his favourite thing, he will briefly visit your humble hut near the lake and offers you some fruits or veggies he brought on his way home. Whenever you decline he somehow always gets an urgent call and can't bring all the groceries he had bought. Well, since he is already at your house, why don't you just accept these fresh fruits he so dearly brought to you?

If he is stopping by your nest, he often lazes around your house whilst chatting about his daily life and you just listened to him while munching on snacks he brought to you. If you are swimming, he will sit by the dock under a shade, leaving you to enjoy what you like the most. Beside, he is also enjoying seeing what he likes the most

One of the things he often gives you is little trinkets...well...the only kind of trinket he gave you is a peacock feather in a resin. It could be a bookmark, a keychain, or a small wall decoration. Since the rarely have time to hang out with you, he needs to make sure part of him will always be with you.

Peacock does value their beauty to attract their female counterpart, but for you? He would gladly be featherless with no second thoughts.

Diluc {Noctua/Great Horned Owl}

A magnificent fancy owl, isn't he? An admirable owl in its prime age running such a huge wine tycoon. Compared to the other houses in the neighbourhood, his is the biggest.

You often see him around but never interact until you bring your swimming class to collaborate with Dawn Winery. There, you saw him personally bring the crates of grape juices for your students. You both start a small conversation, and after that day you often see him on your way to work. He will pull over by your side and insist on driving you there.

His wings span is HUGE. When the sun's heat stings your skin, he will use his wings as your umbrella. What a gentleman indeed.

For some odd reason, he is active during the day and awake at night. How did he get enough proper sleep? You are not sure yourself. Another owl trait of his is his quiet steps or walk, you are always startled whenever he greets you at the swimming centre to bring grape juices for your students, and your wings spread to smack him in the face. After that incident, he always makes sure to approach you from the front.

Other than acts of service, his language is also gift-giving. At first, it was some raw meat to cook or a perfectly cooked steak you can eat, but after learning about the swan's diet, Diluc changed it into grapes and grape juices from his winery. Let's just say sometimes your nest smells like his wine.....like part of him.

Somehow this owl makes sour expressions whenever he sees peacock trinkets around your house after you confirmed Diluc where are those gifts from, he started giving you a quill pen with a feather interestingly similar to his.

Xiao {Alatus Nemeseos/Black-Tail Jade Finch}

Hm? Are you worried about your nest's safety at night? Afraid to go home by yourself when it is late? Suddenly crave eating in the middle of the night? No need to be worried about that anymore! This finch right here, Xiao, is ready to be your bodyguard.

You rarely chat with him, considering he is an introverted bird and prefers to stay in his nest. Other than seeing him dropping off and picking up his little sister, Qiqi at the swimming centre, you guys only meet in public places like parks or convenience stores, where it always started with a curt nod from him and an acknowledgement smile from you. Other than that, you guys don't talk much. However, if you guys do meet in public coincidentally at night, he often 'offers' you to walk back to your nest.

If you count 'waiting for you in front of the convenience store and walking side-by-side with you with no talking' as an offer.

Although his wings and bird's form looks small and cute, he is the most resilient and intimidating among your avian neighbour. Once you saw him decked a man thrice his size because -according to Xiao- 'He looked at you funny'.

He will not hesitate to guard you to your nest, no matter how often you tell him you don't want to bother him, he will just quip back "-and you prefer to get hunted by those bad birds?". As much as your interaction with him is awkward, you always offer tea whenever both of you arrive at the door. But he just refuses politely and 'scurry away'.

Although, he doesn't underestimate you. Once he saw you, the delicate swan became a vicious eagle to protect your swimming students.

Well, now he ought to see you protecting their child together- huh? No that's too far, he is thinking too far. He can just settle with protecting your nest and accompanying you on walks.

Ayaka {Grus Nivis/Snow Crane}

(Note : Ayaka's ability to walk on water refers to her Alt Sprint and how cranes mostly spend their time in shallow water)

Oh my! Look at her beautiful snow-like wings. Such a delicate bird and a classy one too. As a Kamisato, her giant nest (estate) where she lives with her brother is standing proudly on top of a man-made island above the lake with lilypads and lotus blooming here and there. The estate is so beautiful, you are drawn to the magnificent estate to take photos, especially the lotus lake, your swan instinct just brought your feet there.

You purposely approach the lake behind the estate. Avoided the guards so you can have a peaceful time. There, you saw her. The famous snow crane lady Kamisato Ayaka..she seems like dancing? You were mesmerized for a bit by her delicate moves, her flowy hair spinning around her like snow ribbon, and her blue ey- wait what?! She saw you, her wide blue eyes can tell she didn't expect an audience. You awkwardly make a thumbs-up and clap a little. Your wings cover your body whilst you run away from the spot.

You were just swimming around the lake near your nest, the swan blood in you just loves water so much. When you raise up above the water, you find yourself surrounded by beautiful lotus and lilypads floating around your lake, you turned around to see the snow crane above the water, smiling softly at you.

After that lilypad meeting, you both often meet behind your house -something about her feeling more comfortable to become a regular snow crane. She never hated the life of royal birds but living freely without rules to follow seems fascinating to her. So, you showed her your humble nest and how you teach little birds to swim. In return, she integrated you into her life; introducing you to her charming brother -Ayato- and the nice housekeeper Thoma, serving dishes that fit to swan's diet whenever you visit, and often a bundle of Otogi sticks or some fragrant oil from Otogi given to you before you leave-as decoration for your house she suggests and to make your nest smells more like hers.

Layla {Luscinia/Nightingale}

Poor little one, this small bird often crashes by your nest to nap or rest. Her eye bags get darker every time you see her. The least you can do is offer her warm milk to drink before she naps.

Well, you two have been close since you both were still little chicks. At this point, your nest is hers and hers is yours. Her wings feather is everywhere at your nest, from how often she is having a 'sleepover'-which is mostly you pushing her to get enough rest. She even has her own little corner in your nest, where her work drafts and papers are scattered around.

Speaking of sleeping, Layla, you know has an alternate personality that manifests from her when she is in deep sleep. This persona is energetic and determined, if Layla forgot to drink the milk you gave her before sleeping the nighttime Layla will drink it before she does her work. This Layla is very bold and affectionate to you, talkative too! Often she asks your opinion about her paper, and although you don't much about her study, you gave her the encouragement she needed.

Nightime Layla often asks for your blessing every time she is about to sleepwalk go outside. You often give her hugs and cheek kisses as a blessing. Once you gave her a mini dreamcatcher keychain with your feather on it, saying she could always ask for a new feather if the old one snapped, was dirty, or was missing...and she does. She keeps asking for another of your feather because somehow she lost it.

However, what you don't know is, she always keeps the keychain in pristine condition, she just likes to collect parts of you as a good luck charm!

Well....this often leads to Daytime Layla waking up to swan feathers in her closet and her desk drawer. She was confused but not thinking much of it. Instead, she uses the feathers to fill up her pillow fillings or quill.

Ah, somehow she always dreamt of you with this special pillow of hers. Hmm..can't have that..she misses you, welp! Time for another sleepover at your nest!

Al Haitham {Vulture Volans/White Backed Vulture}

So apparently, vultures often spread their wings wide to dry up their wings..and you learnt how wide vultures' wings are. How do you know? Well, this neighbour of yours, whose backyard is coincidentally facing the lake of your nest, often sunbathes his wings there near the lake whilst reading a book.

So, imagine your fear when a buff tall man of a carnivore bird with a stoic face just spreads his wings for an hour, sitting by the lake. You both just nod to each other in acknowledgement while you shake in fear, deciding not to swim that day.

You can tell he has a roommate, judging by the bickering noises and how there are extra shed feathers that aren't his. It is too soft and delicate to be Vultures. You wanted to bring it up to him as a worried neighbour, but you decided it will only make you a nosy one so you keep quiet, and keep greeting with nodding when you both meet by the lake.

Well, either he has sharp eyes or you are too obvious. One day he gave you some fruits and veggies along with small fish. You could tell he searched swan's diet, considering vulture's diet are all meat. "I apologize for any disturbance we may cause, my roommate and I are not on good terms as you can hear." his eyes glanced towards his nest. You waved your hand dismissively clearly not wanting to make things awkward, so you offered him to eat the stuff he gave to you together on your dock.

Well, his logical and rationality views on everything aside, his company is enjoyable. He is open to any perspective, even yours who isn't a scholar. He never belittles you if you awkwardly ask about some terms he had mentioned, you can see his eyes light up a bit as he enlightens you in detail to you, yet he also makes sure it isn't overwhelming.

Apparently, he prefers a quiet environment and so do you as a mute swan. You both often spend quality time together as neighbours with him reading books and sunbathing at your dock whilst you swim or float around on the lake.

Well, isn't this the domestic life he dreamt of?

Kaveh {Paradisaea/Paradise Bird}

Well, this is the bird that the vulture keeps talking about, though you didn't expect it is a bird known for its artistic side.

Paradise birds are known to be delicate and magnificent birds, the male all dance and sing and are pretty. Well, this one...surely a unique one. You first saw him when he stumped out Al-Haitham's nest all pent-up and angry, even his wings are all puffed out. You both had eye contact, his red orbs widen to see you so as to not make anything worse you swam away.

The next day, while you relax by the dock eating some fruits, you saw him carrying some wood and building materials into the nest. Whilst he is putting down the materials his eyes caught on your form, sitting by your dock with your cheeks puffed full of food. He smiled and waved then make a small jog towards you.

He introduced himself and apologize in advance if any of his model-building activity bothered you. You waved him off saying you spend your time teaching swimming to kids anyway. After giving him some of the fruits you eat, he excused himself and walks back towards Al Haitham's house //creak// well..until he stepped on a board on your dock that is loose. His architect side just crouches down and examines your dock, then offers you a free repair of your dock, oh he doesn't take no for his service alright.

Well, now there he is, on your dock doing a repairman job. Every time you want to help, he just told you to sit down all pretty. Just a feast for his eyes.

It is not just the dock he fixed. Even the decoration of your nest-exterior or interior- he gives suggestions and recommendations. Hell, he goes as far as making some bookshelves for you. In return, you listened to his rants about his roommate and offered him food since both of you has similar diet. Sometimes Al Haitham or Layla join in with the two of you.

Isn't he a creative man? he is able to turn the shed feathers into a dreamcatcher, keychain, and even earrings. Your white feathers and his brown-to-goldish one really give an elegant aesthetic. The thing you didn't know is that he has another pair of earrings from your feathers. He doesn't want to wear it since he will not hear the end of it from Al Haitham, plus it may make you uncomfortable although you have shown appreciation to all his crafts, even the small little things he made to your nests.

Well, for now, Kaveh can only help you with decorating your nest, next time, he will make sure to build a nest fit for you both together.

Fischl {Corvus/Raven}

(Note: I wrote this with platonic implications in my head, I am 22 and writing romantic stuff for her feels illegal to me// Oz and Fischl is like apes to human (totally different but has similarity))

Quite the eccentric one, isn't she? Mysterious, all-dark, and how she talks are all out of your dictionary, no worries, her loyal friend, Oz, is your saviour in communicating with her.

You knew her from your fellow swimming teacher, Mona, which Fischl often picks up after work. Whilst waiting for Mona packing up, you hit a conversation with her..which was...unique you can say. She spoke so politely and formally that you didn't know how to respond. Oz was there to translate her words (or simplify) and even then with him, you can //barely// hold onto a conversation with her.

Although she likes speaking in another' language' when you talk to her, her quirky personality and roleplaying with Oz always brighten up your day. Even if Mona can't clock in for the day, Fischl still go there to visit you. You often stay behind to make sure all kids got picked up by their parents and then enjoy the pool all by yourself, usually Fischl would take off her shoes and dangles her feet in the water whilst chatting with Oz and you.

Do you know how ravens remember the faces of people who feed them? Yeah, Fischl often payback your good deed 10 times bigger than what you have done. Like how you offered her some of your fist-sized bread whilst waiting for Mona and the next time you guys meet she gave you a whole-ass pie in return.

Her raven traits also showed up in her collecting shiny trinkets. The urge to hoard shiny things seems to override everything in her brain. She would stop and impulsively walk towards any shiny stuff she see and buy it, sometimes she and Oz would chatter about the trinkets collection with you-from delighted caw to sad croak from not being able to own any valuable stuff she saw.

You once asked her 'what's the best thing you have ever lied your eyes on?". Her light green eyes widened at your question, her hand went up to her chin and she thinks-even Oz made the same gesture, eye closed and humming. Fischl then answered, "Too precious that if I tell you, I'm afraid I will lose them." You giggled, amazed at her mystic answer. You express your curiosity to one day be able to see the thing she is talking about.

Must be so valuable and precious that she won't show it to you, huh? Well, it's not like she won't...But how does she show you to yourself?

4K notes · View notes

odhdhs · 5 months ago

Text

Luisa Madrigal! Yuu (6)

Hatter’s note: That damn crow… Crolwey you crossed all the lines and made an innocent soul suffer, but I assure you that you will be punished when fate chooses the right moment and don’t blame me for not warning you and I’ve done it several times so accept the consequences!

Triggers: Depression, mental breakdown, anxiety, etc…

Keep reading

73 notes · View notes

odhdhs · 5 months ago

Text

MC’s Date With The Brothers Goes Terribly… Then it Starts to Rain.

Side Characters ver.

Hello my dearest degenerates, there’s nothing I love more than ridiculous crack fics, but I wanted to do some fluff, so here we go!

Lucifer

This just had to happen on Lucifer’s one day off… didn’t it? He had the entire day planned out, his brothers would be out doing their own thing, which left him and MC to have the entire day together.

The two of them would have gone to Ristorante 6, watched a movie, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. But no, Lucifer can’t have nice things.

It certainly started off that way, MC and Lucifer held hands as they made their way over to Ristorante 6, and the Avatar of Pride was reminded for the thousandth time exactly why he adored this human so much.

The human was both one of the most stress inducing parts of his life, and one of the few things that made him feel completely at peace. He would move mountains for them if they asked him too…

While Lucifer was in the middle of staring incredibly lovingly at his beloved MC, the human stopped suddenly and pointed ahead of them.

“I think Ristorante 6 may be… closed today.” “What do you mean, MC- oh.”

Apparently, two demons got into a very nasty fight inside, and one slammed the other through a wall. The restaurant was in the middle of scheduling repairs and would be closed until the hole in the wall was fixed. Lucifer developed the tiniest of tics in his right eye, but all MC had to do was squeeze his hand and give him that perfect smile of theirs… *sigh* they were right… there were other good places to eat.

Well, the cafe they wanted to go to was closed that day and they both walked over there for nothing… the second restaurant they went to was full on account of Ristorante 6 closing earlier…

Finally, the two practically trudged to Hell’s Kitchen, but Beel was there an hour earlier and cleared the entire place out…

Lucifer told MC not to fret, they’d just head to the movies and buy some snacks, sure it wasn’t the fancy dinner they planned but… at least it was food.

Oh… the movie they planned on seeing was… not running that night…

“Did you check online before we left?” “…damn.”

Their date was going decidedly terrible, MC and Lucifer were eating movie theatre popcorn outside, in outfits that were way too formal, and were rapidly becoming more and more convinced that the day was just… cursed.

Then… a crack of lightning, then it began to completely pour.

Lucifer winced the moment he heard the lightning, of course… of course it would start to rain… as the rain began to pour down on the two, he simply stared straight ahead, completely and utterly defeated.

The Morning Star, the right hand to the Crown Prince of The Devildom, The Avatar of Pride himself, was defeated by a simple thunderstorm. He took a deep breath in, prepared to shout, scream, throw a tantrum of the highest degree, then just visibly deflated. He turned to MC, who looked just as defeated and drained.

Lucifer wordlessly used his magic to put up a small shield above them, sheltering the two from the torrential downpour.

“You know,” MC mumbled, resting their head against Lucifer’s arm. “The movies make getting caught in the rain seem much more romantic…”

That comment elicited a quiet chuckle from Lucifer as he pulled MC into a hug. The two were already drenched, what did it matter if Lucifer got cheap popcorn butter all over the front of his outfit? Nothing else mattered when he was with the one person in the world who could make his heart swell with this much love and adoration.

“How about we head home, MC? I think I still have some of Barbatos’ cake hidden in the kitchen, we can enjoy that and listen to some music.”

Lucifer felt MC sigh against his front, then look up with that bright sparkling smile that never failed to make him blush.

“I’d like nothing more.”

Mammon

Okay, Mammon had this whole day planned, by the end of it, his human would be swooning! He had gotten paid big bucks from his latest modelling gigs, and he was going to treat MC to a full day with their first man.

First, they were going to spend the morning shopping, then they were going to eat lunch at this new restaurant that had just opened up, after lunch they were going to just kill time until dinner, then eat dinner at Hell’s Kitchen, then they were going to go home, get changed, then head out to The Fall, party, then head home again where MC would most definitely shower the Great Mammon with all the praise and affection he deserved!

Of course, MC would be given all the love and adoration they deserved and more! Mammon’s human was the best, and they deserved the best! The Avatar of Greed was ready!

Or so he thought. The day began with Mammon deciding that he was going to make himself and MC breakfast. It was going fine until Mammon got lost in an intense daydream and by the time he snapped out of it, Beel had eaten the pancake batter and there was no time to make anything else.

Mammon’s surprise breakfast ended up being toast and cut up fruit. It wasn’t so bad, but everyone knows that fruit is very unreliable. Sometimes it’s good… sometimes it’s squishy and unappetizing…

The morning shopping trip was ruined when Mammon went to withdraw money from his account and it turned out that the money from his shoot wasn’t in the account.

Apparently his paycheque was being held back because one of the modelling agencies was being sued.

“…MC?” “Come here, silly.”

After having his face peppered with kisses, Mammon was completely rejuvenated. His human had magic kisses, after all! They never failed to make him feel better!

The two decided that instead of a shopping spree they’d spend a couple hours of window shopping, after that when the two stopped for lunch at the new restaurant. Twenty minutes after eating there, Mammon was dry heaving over a trashcan while MC chugged a bottle of water to try and settle the awful nausea that had completely taken over. Perhaps a bad review would be necessary…

The time that was meant to be spent just wandering around the Devildom was completely ruined when those damn witches showed up! Mammon was not about to forfeit his time with MC to play servant to those three, so he grabbed his human and sprinted away.

That cat and mouse game with the witches lasted for literal hours and ended with Mammon and MC hiding behind a random alley dumpster…

Finally, Hell’s Kitchen, it turned out that they didn’t take too kindly to dine and dashers, so Mammon ended up spending the time he was supposed to be spending eating with MC waiting tables to pay off his tab.

After that, Mammon was too exhausted to even think about partying, so MC suggested that they just head home and watch some fun action movies.

The moment they began their walk home however…

A single drop of water tapped against Mammon’s sunglasses, he looked up and pointed a finger at the sky.

“No.”

Another drop of water hit the rim of his sunglasses.

“No!”

I’m a matter of seconds, it had begun to completely pour, Mammon dug his hands into his hair and shouted in frustration.

“NO! NO! NO! WHY RIGHT NOW?! Why… why right now..?” His outburst had quickly petered out into Mammon physically drooping and quietly taking off his jacket. He held it over MC so they would be spared the brunt of the rain and looked down at his now soaked shoes. “I… I’m sorry… MC…”

“Mammon, what are you sorry for?” MC said gently, lacing their fingers with his.

What kind of a question was that? Mammon had fucked up the date he had planned and made himself look like a complete idiot in front of the one person who showed him any amount of love and affection.

His heart sank as he managed to drag his gaze over to MC. They were worried about an idiot like him… maybe they’d be better off without needing to constantly babysit him…

“Today… everything… I dunno…” Mammon mumbled, MC looped their arms around him, being careful not to drop his jacket onto the wet ground.

“Are you kidding? You planned this entire nice day for the two of us,” when Mammon didn’t respond, MC took on a more firm tone. “Listen, sometimes dates don’t turn out good, that doesn’t mean you have to mope in the rain. Let’s go home, order some food, and watch a movie or some dumb show, whatever makes you happy.”

Though the constant patter of the rain made it difficult to hear, Mammon sniffled and finally returned the hug. His human really was the best.

“You’re too nice to me… ya know that?” Mammon whispered.

MC pressed a soft kiss to his lips and smiled. “Get used to it, because I don’t plan on stopping.”

Leviathan

Levi had to psyche himself up for months in order to do this… he had seen and swooned over cliche TV show dates thousands of times and now, he wanted to take MC on one.

Simply asking them was a Herculean task all on its own… Levi tried to kabedon them, and failed miserably and ended up head butting MC by accident. The Avatar of Envy could have shrivelled up and died of embarrassment right then and there, but MC let out the sweet laugh that never failed to make Levi’s heart swell. They accepted the date request.

When the day came, the two left the HOL, and Levi began his checklist of things that needed to happen to make this a perfect date. First! Dinner!

Dinner… did not pan out well to say the least. The place they had decided to go to was incredibly crowded and the two of them got seated in just the worst spot. They ended up needing to end their meal early and eat outside because Levi was getting hit with a bad case of sensory overload.

Eating outside wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the fact that it was cold and windy as hell… Levi was cold blooded… not figuratively, but mostly literally, he did not do well in overly cold environments. He ended up cuddling closer to MC, which would have been really romantic if he hadn’t accidentally spilled their drink all over them.

Okay… that didn’t turn out good… well, after dinner they were supposed to go do some karaoke! Levi loved karaoke! He could sing something cute and sappy for MC, that was a romance staple!

And the karaoke place was closed for renovations… ugh…

Levi wanted to just go home and abandon the whole date idea, but MC looped their arm around him and pulled him away from the closed karaoke place.

“Remember the arcade we went to a few months ago? I saw it on the way here, let’s go there instead.” “Are you sure you want to keep this date with me going..?” “Positive.”

The arcade was fun until Levi spotted the DDR (Devil Dance Revolution) game that he and MC got the high score on last time. Levi wanted to see what other noobs had tried and failed to beat him and MC.

It turned out… someone beat them…

It seemed like Baphomet and Azazel made a good DDR team because they had managed to knock Levi and MC down to second place by a lot, that wasn’t all, apparently someone was salty after not getting past Levi and MC and put “are dumb” under their names!

Levi was practically frothing at the mouth when he pulled MC to the DDR machine to restore their lost honour. They… did not restore their lost honour. Levi ended up getting so upset he tried to unplug the machine, which somehow ended up permanently freezing the high scores onto the screen. It seemed that the entire Devildom would know that Baphomet and Azazel were better than Levi and MC, and that they were both dumb…

There was still one more thing Levi had planned on doing during his date with MC, he wanted to take them to a cherry blossom tree and suavely kiss them under it. Sadly, there were no cherry blossom trees in the Devildom, but there was a pretty decent substitute that was in bloom during that time of year. Levi and MC made their way to a spot where Levi knew there was a tree, and stood under it.

That was when Levi suddenly realized he had no clue how to be suave and began to stutter-spiral. MC patiently waited for Levi to properly articulate what he wanted to say, when they spotted a unicorn in the distance! MC excitedly pointed it out to Levi, who immediately went pale. Apparently Devildom unicorns are very territorial and very aggressive. They are Satan’s familiar for a reason…

Booking it from a unicorn was not how Levi wanted to end the date… it really wasn’t… but the final straw that broke the camel’s back had arrived in the form of a single raindrop. Then another… then another…

“Levi, please get out of the pond…”

“Leave me, find someone better.”

After the rain had started, Levi had taken off his jacket, handed it to MC, then proceeded to float face down in full demon form in the middle of a pond. The Avatar of Envy was so tired and embarrassed that he just wanted the pond to consume him.

“Levi,” MC tutted. “You’re going to get struck by lightning.”

“Good.”

“Leviathan!”

MC’s sudden shout caused Levi to flail in the water for a brief moment before he was able to use his tail to stabilize himself as managed to tread water.

“Get out of the pond right now! The Lord of Shadows would never abandon Henry like this!”

“The Lord of Shadows is cool, I’m not…” Levi crossed his arms and sunk ever so slightly deeper into the water.

“What the hell are you talking about?” MC asked. “Did we watch the same show? The Lord of Shadows is a huge dork, like you, now get out of the pond so we can go home and not get struck by lightning.”

Defeated by the power of friendship/love/fandom brotherhood, Levi made his way back to shore and was given a quick whack to the back of the head.

“Ow!”

“That’s for being a sulky dummy!” MC then yanked Levi forward by the front of his shirt and kissed him. Levi nearly gasped and began to fanboy right then and there in the middle of the kiss. A rain kiss! A dramatic kiss in the rain! That was one of the best tropes ever! “And that, was for trying to take me on a sweet date.”

“M-marry me…” Levi whispered before he could stop himself. MC giggled and patted one of his now bright red cheeks.

“Maybe someday.”

Satan

Going on fun spontaneous dates really wasn’t Satan’s forte, he preferred a schedule, but both he and MC had the afternoon free and Satan didn’t feel like bumming around at home when the two of them could do that any other day.

Oh-so charmingly taking his beloved MC by the hand and leading them to the nearest cat-cafe was the first thing Satan could think to do. He loves cats, he loves MC, what could possibly ruin a nice afternoon with both?

When the two reached the cafe, they were met with an employee closing the place early, claiming that all the cats had actually gotten adopted and they were waiting for more rescues to come in.

Satan couldn’t decide whether to be upset about the lack of cats, or happy that the cats got adopted into loving homes like they deserved. Satan settled on being aggressively happy.

It was no big deal, there were other things they could do together, like go to a library, or bookstore, or a museum, the possibilities were endless!

Well, it would have been endless if it wasn’t for the world conspiring to make Satan loose his cool. First, the line for his favourite book store was looped around the block because of a new book release. Inconveniencing, sure, but nothing too awful, there was a nice park nearby, the two decided to relax on one of the benches.

Problem number two arose when some idiot threw a Fangol ball a little too far and it ended up hitting Satan, then bouncing off his head and hitting the tree that the bench was under, normally, this would be rude and annoying but nothing that would activate Satan’s volcanic temper, except for the tiny issue that there was a wasp nest in that tree that decided Satan’s drink was enemy #1.

After being stung approximately eight times in the hand, Satan wasn’t doing too good, MC could tell and offered to go to the doctor’s with him. As Satan led them out of the park and towards the sidewalk he assured MC that there was nothing to worry about…

But MC, holder of Satan’s heart, went to go get him ice anyway.

The third and final thing to make Satan blow his top, the rain… the cold… depressing… rain…

“Oh…” MC mumbled as they looked up at the rain, then at Satan, whose hands were balled into fists so tight that his palms began to bleed. “Satan are you-”

Completely silent, Satan strode toward a nearby dumpster and slammed his foot into the metal, sending the entire thing into the back of the dead-end alley. The entire dumpster practically compressed and folded in on itself from the sheer force of the kick.

“Do you want to go home?” MC asked gently, taking a few steps towards him, Satan slowly nodded.

“Y-yes. I think that’d be the smart thing to do.” Satan massaged his forehead and took the ice from MC. “It seems that spontaneity isn’t our strong suit as a couple.”

MC sighed and nodded. “Yeah, we should go back to planning this stuff beforehand, and… you know,” They gestured around the two of them. “check what’s open and what the weather’s going to be before we head out.”

Only MC could soothe Satan’s temper as quickly as it flared up, and MC was getting covered with rainwater. That just wouldn’t do. He turned to MC and offered them his jacket. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

“Isn’t your line supposed to be ‘here, take this, you might catch a cold’?” MC lightly teased as they took the jacket. “Like a classic romantic lead?”

Satan shook his head and laughed softly. “No, that’s a common misconception. You can’t actually get the common cold or flu from being out in the rain. The real danger is hypothermia or frostbite.”

“Ah,” MC looped their arm around Satan’s and held his non swollen hand. “So smart, tell me more about the dangers of hypothermia.”

“Don’t tease, dearest, or I’ll take back my jacket.”

Asmodeus

Asmo had just the most stressful day… and decided that he and his sweet MC just had to go on a nice date together to fix it!

Most dates with Asmo had a sort of three act structure, first they would coordinate their outfits together for the actual date activity, then they’d do whatever they set out to do, then they’d go home and either snuggle, or do the Devil’s tango, whichever MC was feeling up for.

But on this particular day, the three act structure was being ruined. It started with the outfit coordination, somehow everything Asmo had that would match with what MC was wearing was in the laundry, he had to be convinced by MC that this wasn’t that big of a deal and the two of them would look radiant whether they matched or not.

Since that was settled, Asmo and MC made their way to Asmo’s all time favourite spa, which was not closed, no no no, it was actively on fire.

“How… how did this happen?” “Well, there were a lot of candles burning in that place, I guess we’ll just have to save the spa trip for another date.”

Everyone was fine by the way

Oh well, it would take more than a raging inferno to ruin Asmo’s date, he was determined to have a good time, so he cheerily took MC’s hand and led them away from the fire. He also casually mentioned that being so close to danger was a total turn-on.

MC very quickly ended that comment with a kiss, Asmo can’t make inappropriate sex jokes when he’s kissing his favourite person. It was truly a testament to his complete and utter adoration of MC that Asmo was willing to share the top spot of his list of favourite people with them!

While on their merry way to find something else to do, Asmo’s fan club caught wind that he and MC were on a date and decided to make their appearance. Now Asmo’s groupies are normally very sweet, but they can also be incredibly unaware of boundaries.

Everywhere Asmo and MC looked, one or two of Asmo’s fans would be half hiding and half spying on how the date was going. It was common knowledge that Asmo x MC was the OTP of the entire club, and some of the members wanted to get a peak of their ship doing something romantic.

As much as Asmo loved attention, it was getting kind of… creepy. He began to usher MC away from certain areas and tried to find a suitably nice place to get away from prying eyes.

The pair ended up in this absolutely gorgeous public garden that was thankfully quite empty. Though, all it took was one awkward step with the kind of shoes he was wearing and Asmo fell straight into a rose bush.

MC had to quickly get to work kissing Asmo’s cut up face better before he started to cry and ruined his mascara. What was even worse was that the fall messed up Asmo’s shoe and he’d have to walk back to the house like an uncoordinated baby deer.

Everything was fine… just fine… no need to worry… everything was… cloudy…

The moment the first drop of rain landed in front of Asmo he stood completely stiff and still.

“Don’t.” He growled. “I just got my hair fixed.”

The rain didn’t listen, and began pouring down, absolutely drenching Asmo and MC in a matter of minutes. MC tried to pull Asmo towards an alcove or a covered patio so they could call a cab home, but the Avatar of Lust refused to move. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, smiled serenely to himself, then looked back up to the sky and screamed with the hatred of a thousand suns:

“FUCK YOU TOO FATHER!”

It was quite a scene for MC to witness, Asmo rarely fully lost his cool, especially not enough to swear like an ‘uncouth barbarian’, combine that with his running mascara, scratched up face, and dirty clothes, he looked more like a feral movie star that was just rescued from the woods than the solid ten out of ten MC normally knew him as.

“Momo?” MC gently patted his back. “Come on, we should go home.”

Asmo finally turned to look at his sweet MC, the poor thing shouldn’t have seen him act like this… the day had gone completely horribly and he just had to drag MC into this, didn’t he? He felt his heart drop right into his gut as he practically collapsed into his human’s arms.

“Oh MC, I’m so sorry I dragged you out today… we should have just stayed home…”

“Asmo,” MC weighed their options, before settling on just rubbing his back. “There there.”

The awkward sniffling and snorting continued for the next couple of minutes while MC called a ride service to come pick the two of them up.

“Thank you, MC,” Asmo sniffled. “You’re the sweetest thing in the universe…”

“You’re sweet too, Asmo. It’s a shame today didn’t work out.”

“Mhm…”

“We can still save this date, you know? When we get back home we can take a bath and snuggle.”

“That…” Asmo sniffed. “That sounds really nice, MC.”

“Anytime spent with you is nice, Asmo.” MC then rolled their eyes while Asmo giggled. “Man that was corny…”

Beelzebub

Beel had come back from one hell of a Fangol game, and he was in an amazing mood! He wanted to take MC out to celebrate!

Between-meal snacks were packed, and they set off to the carnival. Nothing could beat the nice smell of fried dough, Carmel apples, popcorn, and spending time with MC.

Of course, the food wasn’t the only thing Beel wanted to enjoy with MC, there were rides and games to try while they enjoyed their snacks. First they made their way to the teacup ride.

In theory, having big strong Beel to spin the big wheel in the middle to make the teacup move would be a good thing, but even though it was the first ride, MC had eaten quite a lot of carnival snacks.

Beel only had to spin the centre disc once for the disc to both break and make the teacup to whirl around at a speed that practically threw them into Beel’s side. MC then… well… vomited. Everywhere.

Since Beel accidentally ripped the centre disc off, he couldn’t slow the teacup down manually to stop the puke-tornado, so it took a little while before the ride operator realized that something was wrong and stopped the ride.

The walk off the ride was both embarrassing and completely nauseating, MC needed to stumble to the nearest trashcan and hurl. Beel did his best to comfort his poor human and mumbled quite a lot of apologies.

“I’m sorry MC…” “Beel, it’s okay… I’d uh, kiss you but the… vomit.”

Both Beel and MC decreed that maybe rides weren’t the best idea after that, and went over to check out the carnival games.

After a few unsuccessful tries at a few games, a plushie caught MC’s eye and they were absolutely smitten with it. Beel vowed to win it for them, and lined himself up to try the pitching game.

Well, something good came out of that… Beel threw so fast it may have broken a record, the bad thing was that the ball tore through the tent and caused the whole thing to collapse.

The tent then caught fire after landing on some of the candles that were set up… the plushie went up in flames…

Beel turned to MC, who wordlessly patted him on the back. At… at least they still had their snacks…

As Beel and MC made their way to the exit, a group of kids rushed past the pair, Beel, not wanting to step on or bump into any of them, awkwardly wobbled, then fell and dropped all of his emergency snacks.

And then came the rain…

“Oh…” Beel mumbled as he stared down his spilled food, MC quickly wrapped their arms around him, looking up at him with a half-hearted smile.

“We can buy some more, or wait until we get home, it’s okay, Beel.”

The Avatar of Gluttony slowly nodded, tearing his gaze away from the wasted snacks. Thunder sounded above the two and the cold rain began to beat against them.

When Beel looked down at MC, he felt his heart flutter in his chest, they weren’t upset at him, they weren’t angry… they just wanted to make him feel better… Beel nodded resolutely to himself, he was going to make MC feel better too! He picked MC up bridal-style and began to walk away from the rapidly emptying carnival.

“B-Beel?” MC sputtered.

“Let’s go home, MC, I have cookies hidden in one of the cabinets that we can share.”

MC looked up at their sweet cinnamon roll, then buried their face in his chest. Their shoulders shook slightly as they looped their arms around Beel’s neck.

“M-MC?” Beel asked, he tried to shift MC in his arms to see if they were crying, but MC looked up at him with a sweet smile.

“You’re just the best, Beel. Never forget that.”

Belphegor

The Avatar of Sloth doesn’t exactly “do” traditional dates, but even he could tell that MC wanted to do something a little more exciting than “lay in bed and make out until Belphie falls asleep”.

Since Belphie is a totally wonderful brat boyfriend, he decided to take MC out to the best possible place in the human world for some stargazing… and napping.

He even put together a picnic basket so he and MC could eat while watching the sunset before the stars came out!

The favourite blanket was packed, the picnic basket was ready, and Lucifer gave the two permission to visit the human world for the evening. Belphie took a mental note to avoid doing any pranks for a week as a thank-you to his older brother.

Well, the first problem came when the two spread out the blanket and opened up the basket to find… nothing. Belphie immediately thought that Beel must have eaten their food, but then the memory of the food clearly sitting in the fridge entered his mind. He had forgotten to put the food in the basket… and he was too lazy to check why the basket was so light…

Oh well… no big deal, MC had a big lunch. The second problem came in the form of a swarm of mosquitoes. Gross, bloodsucking mosquitos.

“MC?” “Yeah?” “Did you happen to pack bug spray before I took you out on this surprise picnic?” “No…”

Belphie’s solution was to use his tail to bat the bugs away, but that proved to be quite useless. It didn’t help that while both MC and Belphie were being eaten alive, Belphie would end up accidentally thwacking MC with his tail.

Well, at least the sunset was nice, or it would have been if Belphie hadn’t slept through it by accident.

It was classic Belphie to manage to sleep through anything interesting, and apparently he also missed out on a shooting star which soured his mood even more.

The only little bright spot of the date so far was that MC did say that they wished for something for him on that shooting star… hopefully wish magic might salvage the date…

After being awoken by MC to look up at the sky, the two realized that something was… missing. Where were the stars?

MC and Belphie were laying on their backs facing the clouded over sky when they both had the dawning realization of what was to come.

Rain.

Of course… mosquitoes are extra active and crazy before a storm… that’s why they were coming at them…

Belphie let out a dejected sigh as the first raindrop of many hit the tip of his nose. MC scratched at their arms and began to pack up the blanket into the empty picnic basket. At least the blanket wouldn’t get too wet.

Well, he fucked this up royally. The Avatar of Sloth almost never put any actual work into something that didn’t benefit himself, but MC had managed to make themselves the exception. He wanted to make them happy, he wanted to see that cute little face they made when he’d crack a joke or make a quip about something, but now, lying flat on his back staring up at a coming rainstorm, Belphie had come to the crippling realization that all his work went to waste.

“You know, MC, the outdoors is going to lose my patronage.” Belphie murmured, blinking a few raindrops out of his eyes as the rain began to patter down with more ferocity. “I think the two of us should stick to indoor dates.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” MC sighed as they used the picnic basket as a makeshift umbrella.

“I’m um…” Belphie began, guilt twisting in his gut. “I’m sorry this turned out so shitty.”

“It’s okay, Belphie.” MC pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “If by some miracle the food that was supposed to be in the fridge hasn’t gotten eaten by the time we get back home, we’ll eat a late dinner, cuddle, and then sleep till noon.”

905 notes · View notes

odhdhs · 5 months ago

Text

"Itterasshai~" (-ｪ-)｡o

Get the full kareshi sensation at my ko-fi!

5K notes · View notes

odhdhs · 6 months ago

Text

Part 3 of 'vote to save'

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me one master to rule them all #vote to save #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me solomon #obey me beelzebub #obey me simeon #i type wrong word #its least not lasted

11 notes · View notes

odhdhs · 6 months ago

Text

I want to see a fanfic crossover about Obey Me and Love and Deepspace. Sounds interesting.

The MC from Lads would be teleported to Devildom and the story from OM would start and yeah 👍. Caleb is definitely gonna be the most overprotective one out of the five.

I feel like Xavier and belphegor would be sleeping friends

Lucifer would probably enjoy Zayne's company since Zayne is the most mature one out of the five and one of the more intelligent out of the five. (Academic intelligence) {I hope I ain't offending any non-Zayne girlies.}

Xavier and Solomon would most likely try to cook something. But at least Xavier can cook ramen or something, Solomon can't. I'm pretty sure Solomon can somehow burn porridge or water.

Asmodeus would definitely be flirting with all five of them. He would be eyeing them.

Asmo: MC! Why didn't you tell me that your childhood best friend would be such a snack!

MC: Because I know you would flirt with them. 😑

Levi would be too nervous to talk to them. I'm pretty sure all five of them are taller than him, and all of them have a menacing aura to him especially Sylus.

Zayne would most likely be interested in Beel's diet and being able to be so fit.

Idk much about Caleb's lore so idk what to put for him

Rafayel would be friends with Levi since sea creatures and all. I could see Rafayel and Levi talking about the creature. Also I feel like Rafayel and Caleb are the most interested in anime so I'm sure Levi would like to ramble about that with them.

Idk about what to put for sylus. (I'm srry sylus girlies)

39 notes · View notes

odhdhs · 6 months ago

Text

Azul Ashengrotto with a Bad Genius reader (Part 3)

• Azul didn't want to be cruel, no, that would be so insulting! An honor student like him? Cheat and blackmail? Haha! Oh, like aren't you any different. He hated you. No... He loathed even mentioning you.

• How could someone in his dorm, who's in lower status, be this much of a threat to him? You are the epitome of a behaved and well-mannered model student. Not only that, you have grades and intelligence far higher than anyone in class. Possibly surpassing Azul's. Now that is what's bothering him.

• The way you don't even need time to study about a certain subject for you already memorized the contents beforehand. The way you made zero effort during the physical activities in class for you already have learned sports. The way you just stood there quietly and minding your own business was enough for teachers to call you a model student... Azul despised that. He despised you.

{Ramshackle Dorm – Lounge}

BadGenius! Yuu: "Guys, what did I tell you about meetups? We almost got caught by Azul!"

Deuce: "W-we're so sorry!"

Ace: "I thought you said we'll meet you at your place!"

BadGenius! Yuu: "By my place I meant Ramshackle!"

Ace: "Why didn't you say so? We came all the way to Octavinelle just for you to kick us out?"

Deuce: "You should know better, Ace. They warned us about Azul."

Ace: "Like you're one to talk! You tagged along. Doesn't sound so honorable to me, Mr. Honor Student!"

Deuce: "Th-this is just only one time! It won't happen again..."

Grim: "Are we gonna start or what? I'm gettin' sleepy here 😾!"

BadGenius! Yuu: "I guess it can't be helped. Sorry for the misunderstanding, guys."

Random Heartslabyul Student: "Don't worry about it, BadGenius! Yuu 😅!"

Random Scarabia Student: "We should've back read the group chat 😓."

Random Pomefiore Student: "W-w-what if we get caught 😱?!"

Random Savanaclaw Student: "Geez, if you're so paranoid then don't come here in the first place 🙄."

Random Octavinelle Student: "Azul's already suspicious of us. Should we be alarmed 😦?"

BadGenius! Yuu: "No, I managed to convince him. Now that the issue's out of the way, let's get started, shall we?"

• The test was going to be hard, you knew it. All you did was help a classmate with their homework in exchange for money. When they finally understand the material, they gave you a suggestion – to start your own business. That business specifically involved memorizing answers in a much more simpler way. In fact, you don't need to memorize all of them, they just wait and you'll provide it. Even during the test, under watchful eyes.

• The Ramshackle Ghosts were kind enough to let you stay in the rundown dormitory. They also did you a favor of bringing an old unused piano, but it still works despite the harsh conditions. Your friends wondered why you brought them here to teach them piano lessons late at night instead of studying for the exam tomorrow. The students- or rather clients you have gathered, have asked you for tons of help that you can't teach all of them at the same time. So you just came up with an alternative.

BadGenius! Yuu: "Look, see this piano? I'll make small sequences of a song and you'll have to memorize all of it. At least four of them since the other half of the test is in multiple choice form."

Deuce: "......."

Ace: "....Hah?"

Grim: "Fnyagh... I thought you said there won't be any memorizing!"

BadGenius! Yuu: "There won't be any memorizing. Just familiarize the sounds. We will be given one hour to finish the test, yes? And we can't finish it at the same time. So I came up with a solution... The first half of the test paper will contain enumeration, identification, and a few equations. You will have to memorize only the first half of the test... The other half of the test paper will contain multiple choice questions, which means you'll be choosing which is the right answer."

• The students listened intently to your plan, some were yawning from how long your explanation is. You intend to wrap this up quickly so that all of you will at least have a decent amount of rest.

BadGenius! Yuu: "If you're either done answering the first half or not, wait until the long arm of the clock hits twelve. I'll automatically provide answers for you in the other half of the paper to write down during the test. Do not to tilt or turn your head in my direction. Just carefully listen to the tapping of my fingers on the desk. Memorize the sound sequence like the one I will play on this piano. And then identify which one is A, B, C, or D."

Random Octavinelle Student: "Ohh! I think I get it now 😮!"

Random Scarabia Student: "This is waaay more easier than signing a contract with Azul 😯!"

Random Pomefiore Student: "What if we'll get caught looking though 😰?"

Random Savanaclaw Student: "They just told you, DO NOT LOOK, JUST LISTEN. You're such an airhead 😑."

Random Pomefiore Student: "O-Oh right 😓."

Random Heartslabyul Student: "Wait a sec, won't the tapping sound the same 😧?"

BadGenius! Yuu: "They won't. I've tried it before on the classroom desks. Each desk give a clear sound. I've also cut the tips of of my fingernails to adjust the sound of the tapping. Here's an example..."

• You made yourself comfortable on a chair and thought of a simple song to play on the piano keys. You decided to play Für Elise by Beethoven and then tapped your fingers on the wood for comparison. Not a lot of people know about the song so it should be safe if the teacher doesn't recognize it.

BadGenius! Yuu: "The highest pitch is A.... This one is B.... This is C..... And lastly, the lowest pitch is D....."

• The students listened and observed the simple sequences. Their eyes lit up by how easy the sounds can be memorized. Soon, they were able to recognize each of them with their eyes closed. However, Grim and ADeuce were struggling.

BadGenius! Yuu: "Alright, now that you've familiarized the sequences, let's discuss the seating arrangements."

Deuce: "Huh?! There's more?!"

BadGenius! Yuu: "Yes. Everyone's level of hearing varies from person to person depending on the distance. If we can't hear the sounds correctly in case another student coughs or sneezes, we'll write the wrong answers."

Deuce: "U-Umm... I guess that makes sense."

BadGenius! Yuu: "There's also a drawback, we're gonna have to wake up early to occupy the seats before the others. Okay, now everybody grab your chairs. We'll start with... You. Since you're a beastman, your hearing is better."

Random Savanaclaw Student: "Naturally 😌."

BadGenius! Yuu: "So you'll be a bit farther from me tooo... There.... And you..."

Random Pomefiore Student: "Eh... Me 😧?"

BadGenius! Yuu: "Yes, you. You didn't hear me when I said not to turn or tilt your head during the exam, so obviously you'll be sitting near me.... Riiight here."

• As you begin placing everyone to their order of seating arrangements accordingly with everyone finally agreeing with you, the ADeuce and Grim were completely having trouble to understand and were left behind. They exited the lounge and went outside.

Ace: "... Did you get any of that?"

Deuce: "Yeah... no."

Grim: "Fnyagh... I thought this was gonna be easy."

Deuce: "It is easy. Just memorize the sounds. There's only four of them!"

Ace: "They'll only provide HALF of the test. We still have to do the other half on our own."

Deuce: "Hey, it's the least we could do. They've made the effort to arrange all of this so we might as well lift ourselves up."

Grim: "Great. I thought there wouldn't be any familiarizing cuz I thought they'll give the answers for the entire thing, not half of it! Fnyagh... It's too hard!"

Deuce: "I think they said something about our answers in the first half combined with the memorized other will equal to a passing score."

Ace: "If we can get it right! We don't have enough time to memorize the answers in the first half!"

Deuce: "Why don't we stop complaining and at least try--"

! F L I C K E R !

Deuce: "H-HUH?! GUYS, DID YOU SEE THAT?!"

Grim: "See what?"

Ace: "How can you even see anything? It's dark out here."

Deuce: "I could've sworn...!"

• Before Deuce can finish his sentence, you called out to them to get inside so you can properly seat them. Ace and Grim walked back with Deuce following behind. The boy glanced outside last time and went in the dorm. He could've swore he saw a flicker of something shiny...

Jade: "That was close one."

Floyd: "Eh~ so little Shrimpy wanna play games, huh Jade?"

Jade: "It seems so. I think it's time to report back to Azul, wouldn't you say?"

Floyd: "Yeah~ I'm gettin' bored."

• Unknowing to the students inside, a certain pair of eels cackled quietly, they've come to enjoy observing you but sadly this espionage has to end. Satisfied that they've gathered enough evidence, they shut the video camera, its lens shining in the dark, and left.

{Octavinelle Dorm – VIP Room}

• Azul was in a spiral. Getting paranoid by the minute, constantly overthinking things. Counting the contracts again and again did not help at all. But at the same time, he's getting impatient. Azul has to admit, he's come to like you and admires how your efforts made you come this far, but he likes the title of honor student more.

Floyd: "Azuuuul~ we're baaaack~!!"

Jade: "We're back."

Azul: "Good. Now where is it?"

Jade: "Oya? Is that how you thank us right after doing the work for you?"

Azul: "It doesn't matter now give it."

Floyd: "uughh, fiiine~!"

Jade: "How selfish of you, Azul 😊."

Floyd: "Yeah, how selfish~"

Azul: "Shut it."

• Jade handed over the video camera to Azul. The man snatched it and sat down. He rewind the footage from the day he ordered the Tweels to spy on you to the night before the exam. Jade and Floyd watched as a growing smile plastered itself on Azul's face. After the video ends, he let out a hysterical laugh. The twins grinned to themselves. Oh, this is going to be fun, they think.

Azul: "...ha... haha.... AHAHAHAHAHAHA!! FINALLY! NOW I'LL GET RID OF THEM ONCE AND FOR ALL!!! AHAHAHAHA!! EVERYTHING. WILL. BE. MINE!!!"

• Azul never should have given you that advice in the first place. Never in a thousand years did he think you would act that fast and now you've become a hindrance to his plans. It was a miscalculation, a big one. And he'll stop at nothing to bring you down. He needs to get rid of you before all of his own efforts go down the drain.

• Now what shall we do about those friends of yours, hm? How unfair of you to leave them out of your studies. Why don't he give them a hand?

To Be Continued...

110 notes · View notes

odhdhs · 6 months ago

Text

How would Obey Me Brothers play 'Just Dance'

Lucifer 🍷

When dancing, you can see the stiff movement due to inexperience and due to age. You can definitely hear the sound of joints cracking. That's how stiff he is.

(Can demons even crack their bones like how we humans can, like how we crack our fingers)

He is gonna dance with songs that are more old since I'm pretty sure his style of songs and music is more classical and old.

When it comes to MC, I feel like he would dance with MC with dances that are in pairs and would dance together, those dances would most likely be romantic songs.

Mammon💸

Mammon is the type of guy that says that he will not dance to this game but with a little persuasion from MC he will. when he does dance, he would dance with so much passion. Like it would almost look exactly like the coach dancers. Of course, he would definitely have a mistake or two while dancing.

Mammon is definitely gonna put bets on who can dance better and he actually usually wins these kinds of bets, if one of his brothers actually wants to bet.

Leviathan 🐟

Too nervous to even dance, he would only dance in the privacy of his room and only MC is allowed to be with him but some of the brothers would barge in to play as well just to dance with MC.

He is the type that will be unable to dance properly, often fumbles and make mistakes but when it comes to the kpop dances, he is definitely the type to perfect the dance in one try.

Satan 📒

Would prefer reading a book than dancing

Would definitely say something like 'i don't have time for dancing' and Lucifer would agree with him but since Satan wants to be different. He would definitely dance just to be the opposite of Lucifer.

When he dances, he definitely has a stiff movement but that is due to inexperience with dancing. After a while, he definitely gets better.

I feel like he would be interested in the lore of Just Dance.

Asmodeus 💅

Would definitely be the one who introduced Just Dance to the brothers, either that or MC.

Asmo is definitely the best dancer. He would perfect all the dance but will definitely superstar the dances that have more fluid movement. (Does that make sense, it makes sense for me)

He would definitely dance to 'nail, hair, hips, heels'

He would definitely post his dances into his social media, then it would make a trend in the Devildom to play Just Dance.

Beelzebub 🍔

Beel is the one who uses just dance as a form of exercise. I got this feeling that he is gonna be stiff when it comes to dancing since Beel usually does normal exercises like push up and that

(idk what to write for Beel srry y'all)

Belphegor 🐄

Ain't even dancing he is gonna watch MC dance and that's it and even if he participates, he would be the one that sits on the couch and moves his hands only just so that he could earn points for the dance.

(Also I just realized that if belphi never exercise, how the hell does he have abs)

This is my first time making this kind of post

Do y'all watch littlesiha?

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #satan obey me #obey me beelzebub #just dance

44 notes · View notes

odhdhs · 6 months ago

Text

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 10

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, family issues, generational trauma, self-growth, personal issues (and dealing with it), hurt and comfort, hmmmm…. let’s leave it at that for now :) A/N: Final chapter, guys! Thanks so much for reading <3

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

“Oh, what the hell—since when do you cook?”

“Bitch,” you laugh, nudging past them, the ceramic pot still steaming in your hands. “Do you want the risotto or not?”

The scent of garlic and pecorino permeates the air as you stand in front of the small foyer of the duplex where your friend—questionable, at the moment—lives. Your most recent culinary masterpiece, deemed safe (enough) for public consumption, rests between your hands in silent offering to the skeptic figure who’s barring you from crossing the threshold.

It’s still warm, and you’re not one to brag, but you think you’ve outdone yourself with this one. Not that it matters—everybody’s a fucking critic these days.

“Risotto?” Khol parrots in disbelief. “You don’t show up in forever, suddenly you’re all cuoca straordinario or some shit. Get out of here with your Mario ass–”

“Don’t mind them,” Anna interjects from behind your biggest hater, all cheer as she plucks the pot from your hands. “This smells amazing, actually. Come in!”

With that, she vanishes inside, leaving you and Khol alone in the doorway. You give them a knowing look.

“Oh wow,” you remark, all mock surprise. “You live together now?”

Khol rolls their eyes, already tired of you. “You missed the biggest arc of the last five months, but yeah.”

You step inside, and right away, something feels… different. It could partly be due to how much time has passed since you last visited, and it’s clearly still their place—the brooding industrial-emo aesthetic remains intact, still suspiciously close to resembling the lair of an angsty comic book antihero on acid—but it’s been overtaken by bits of boho-chic scattered all over the space.

Where there was once nothing but charcoal, vinyl, and concrete, there are now textures. Colorful woven throws drape artfully over the arm of the leather Eames sofa they won off a Craigslist bid. Tasseled pillows have multiplied across every seat surface like some kind of fabric-based contagion, while pothos vines dangle lazily from macramé hangers, stretching towards the moody Edison bulbs like they’re trying to escape the existential crisis of living here.

And then there’s the rug. Oh god, the rug.

A comically massive tufted ‘Flower Power’ rug sprawls across the center of the room, a swirling explosion of pinks and oranges—a final, cutesy fuck you to the apartment’s formerly depressing atmosphere before Khol’s new roommate staged her cheerful coup.

It should’ve been a hilarious sight, like a chaotic school art project where every kid picked a different medium to color and refused to compromise. But somehow… it works?

Against all odds, the goth cryptid and the hippie gremlin have found domestic equilibrium.

“Love what you did with the place, Anna,” you call out, toeing off your shoes at the door. “It doesn’t look like a twelve-year-old’s fantasy bedroom anymore.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Khol laughs, shaking their head. “As if you’re one to talk. Last time I visited, you still had that stupid-ass sofa. Is it still there?”

You sniff haughtily. “Excuse you, but that’s a custom piece. You wouldn’t get it.”

"Alright, you two," Anna says, leaning against the archway between the living room and kitchen, one hip propped against the frame. "Both of you have terrible taste in decor. Now, I have a fabulous Prosecco to pair with the risotto." She tilts her head, shooting her partner a pointed look. "Khol, darling, be a dear and grab the crystal from the cupboard?"

"Whipped," you sing as Khol, predictably, does exactly as told. They don’t even bother with a comeback, just flashes you a lazy middle finger over their shoulder as they disappear from view.

You grin, shaking your head. The moment stretches into something easy, comfortable. It’s nice—being here, bantering like no time has passed. You let yourself sink into it, tugging off your beanie as you cross the room.

The creaky couch welcomes you like an old friend, and you flop down unceremoniously, stretching your legs out, rubbing your feet against the oversized monstrosity of a rug that is... honestly, pretty fucking comfortable, actually.

Anna follows suit, settling beside you with far more grace, tucking one foot under the other.

She watches you for a moment, expression warm but slightly inquisitive. “We haven’t seen you in a while.”

You exhale, tipping your head back, staring up at the beams on the ceiling. "Yeah, sorry. Been a little out of it these past… couple of months, I guess."

Anna makes a quiet noise, something between understanding and acknowledgment. "You’re doing okay now?"

The easy answer sits on your tongue—yeah, of course. An automatic response, a reflex built from habit. Another front to put up, another lie to slip behind.

But you’ve been working on this. So instead, you take a breath and say,

"Not… really."

The words feel foreign, heavy, but oddly freeing as they leave your mouth.

Your gaze flickers to the side table—framed photos of Khol and Anna, smiling, sunlit. You don’t linger.

“I mean, better now compared to, maybe, a few weeks ago. I’m getting there.”

Anna’s brows lift slightly—not in surprise at the sentiment itself, but at the fact that you admitted it out loud. There’s something thoughtful in her expression, something softer around the edges. “Good. That’s good.”

You can tell she means it. Maybe even more than you expected.

"Yeah."

There’s a brief lull. You catch yourself tugging at the edge of your cardigan—a nervous habit you never quite broke. The warmth of the apartment is settling in you quite comfortably, but there’s something about sitting still under Anna’s gentle scrutiny that makes you restless.

From the kitchen, there’s the unmistakable clink of glass, followed by a muffled, “shit.”

Anna exhales, long-suffering. “I don’t know why I even bother buying nice things.”

“‘Oy,” Khol’s voice carries from the other room, “get in here and help. We have, like, seven things to carry.”

You take that as your cue, trailing after Anna into the kitchen. Between the three of you, it’s quick work—bowls of warm, brothy risotto in hand, glasses of white wine balanced carefully between fingers.

By the time you step back into the living room, Khol is already dropping onto the blue accent chair near the window with all the dramatics of someone who’s worked far too hard for far too little.

You settle into your usual spot, Anna beside you. You don’t touch your food. Your appetite’s still in remission, though it’s been steadily improving lately.

Khol notices. “Now, why the hell aren’t you eating?” They shoot you a side-eye like you’ve personally offended them. “I knew it. You put something in this, didn’t you?”

“Jesus, Khol,” Anna sighs, exasperated, already two spoonfuls in. “Your diet was literally gas station burritos and eight-pack Coors before I moved in. You’ll live.”

She pauses, though, casting you a look. “Don’t get me wrong—this is really good.”

“Ha,” you retort as Khol prods suspiciously at a floating mushroom. You glare. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

“Alright, alright.” With an exaggerated sigh, Khol finally takes a bite. They chew once, twice—eyes narrowed in concentration, acting like some hard-ass seasoned judge from Top Chef. You can practically see them digging for something snarky to say—until, begrudgingly, they nod.

“Shit. This is actually pretty good. Who are you?”

You preen at the praise.

For a while, there’s nothing but the quiet clinking of spoons against ceramic, the occasional satisfied hum. It’s… nice. Comfortable in a way you haven’t felt in what feels like forever.

You’ve missed this.

Missed being here. Missed being with people.

Somewhere between the second glass of wine and the last few bites of risotto, Khol angles their head toward you, their curiosity piqued. “How come you’re free today? You on leave or something?”

You swirl the drink in your hand, watching the light catch on the amber surface before answering. “Oh, I quit my job.”

There’s a beat of silence. You don’t know what reaction you were expecting, but Khol just blinks at you. "Huh. Finally."

Anna looks mildly more concerned. "You quit?"

You nod, stretching your legs out beneath the coffee table. “Yeah. The OT was getting ridiculous, and they had me working night shifts again. That was kind of the last straw for me.”

Khol grunts in agreement. “Good fucking riddance. That job was killing you.” They pause for a beat, turning serious, contemplative. “You’re not hung up about it, are you? You’ve been bitching about that job for ages.”

You exhale through your nose, staring at the rim of your glass. “Yeah, no. I’m glad I left.” The words come easily, and they’re mostly true. But still—there’s something about suddenly having all this space, this aimless in-between, that makes you antsy.

A thought strikes you, and you glance up. “Hey, you know if Marion's still looking for someone to work part-time at the bistro?”

Khol raises an eyebrow. "You looking to apply? It’s minimum wage, just telling you in advance."

"That’s fine," you assure them. "I just need something on the side. I’m doing freelance work right now, I just want something to fill in the gaps."

Anna perks up at that. "I think that’s a great idea. I can hit up Marion later, but I’m pretty sure they’re still looking."

Khol stares at you, and for once, they don’t have a quip lined up. No sharp-edged humor, no quick banter—just a quiet look of something almost foreign on their face. Pride. Maybe even relief. You’ve worried them. The realization jars you like a pebble dropped into a clear pond, sending ripples through the stillness of your self-imposed isolation. You hadn’t meant to, not really. It wasn’t like you deliberately wanted to disappear... But you did, didn’t you? You let the days blur into weeks, then months, telling yourself naively that no one would notice if you just—vanished for a while. Five months, to be exact.

You press your lips together, clearing your throat against the tightness creeping in. “Thanks,” you say, quiet but sincere. “Really.”

Khol snorts, and the moment shatters. “You can show your thanks by knocking ten percent off the cocktails when we visit.”

You roll your eyes, feigning exasperation. “Get me the job first, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Anna grins, raising her glass. “Now, that’s the spirit.”

––––

You get the job.

You stand in front of the fogged-up mirror, dragging your palm across the wet glass. The reflection that stares back is warped, smudged—half-formed, half-there—but unequivocally yours.

A month ago, you wouldn’t have been able to say that with certainty. Back then, the figure in the mirror had been more ghost than person—distant, spectral. Fractured. Someone you watched from the outside, not as a host of the flesh you inhabit.

Now, though, the pieces are starting to slot back into place. Some are still missing, and others don’t quite fit as they once did. You doubt it will ever return to how it was… But slowly, a familiar shape is coming back into focus. More than the shadow of a woman, but you. Time moves like water carving through rock—gradual, barely perceptible, but steady. Inevitable.

The shifts are diminutive. A morning where you wake up feeling less crushed by the weight of grief in your chest. An afternoon where you suddenly break into laughter, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve heard it in weeks. A quiet night where you go to bed without feeling like you’re stuck frozen in an endless loop of wishing, waiting for the impossible.

You’re here, alive. Present. And for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, you’re doing more than just holding on.

(You think he’d be proud of you.)

And the thought doesn’t leave you aching the way it used to.

––––

“You think I can handle taking care of another living thing? Like a plant?” You ask Maru, glancing at him lounging by the window, right where a sliver of afternoon sunlight spills across the floor. “I mean, I raised you well enough, I think. But you’re pretty self-sufficient anyway.” Maru looks unimpressed. His tail flicks once—dismissive, uninterested—before he returns to grooming himself, utterly indifferent to both your question and your sudden enthusiasm for gardening. “Well, if your dad can grow plants in that dungeon he calls a base, I’m sure I can manage,” you mutter unconvincingly. “How hard can it be?”

–

By the middle of the second week into your little project, you begrudgingly admit that your tiny repotted begonia isn’t exactly thriving. You don’t want to be a pessimist, but the (browning) margins seem to curl inward—more than they should, if the reference pics on that “Indoor Succulents” blog you’re subscribed to are anything to go by.

You eye it dubiously, trying to stay gung-ho about the whole thing, forcing yourself to look up care tips again. It’s just a plant. Not rocket science. So you do the research, gather more supplies, and give it another shot. You reposition it closer to where the sun lands—earning a disgruntled hiss from the sunbathing feline—and sprinkle a careful amount of water just beneath the leaves, closer to the root. Then you lean back, waiting, tapping your foot impatiently like it’s supposed to just... fix itself.

–

The next few days pass with you watching it more than you’d care to admit—checking, hoping, second-guessing yourself.

You narrow your eyes at the leaves, more russet than Inca Flame red, still hanging limp like a sad testament to your lack of skill.

But you keep at it, because you’re nothing if not stubborn.

–

A single flower has bloomed.

You stand there, spray bottle in hand, caught in quiet awe at the metallic pink sprout peeking through the foliage. It’s small, delicate, barely more than a bud, but unmistakably there—nestled among heart-shaped leaves that, for the first time in weeks, look alive. Brighter.

A faint smile tugs at your lips. It’s not groundbreaking, not by a long shot. But it’s something.

The fragile blossom clings onto dear life, stubbornly seeking the sun rays, inching toward the warmth it needs to grow—larger, stronger.

You can’t wait to bear witness to it.

––––

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up in this situation; all you could recall past the sweat blurring your vision is the memory of being in front of the reception desk, pen in hand, scrawling your name onto the sign-up sheet for beginner boxing lessons.

It’s not… something you planned on doing, really. You’d been showing up for the past week, trying to convince yourself that fitness was something you could get into. Something you could stick with. But this one’s more of an impulse decision, fueled by a mix of post-workout endorphins and the misplaced confidence that sometimes follows after an extra few—unpremeditated!—minutes on the elliptical.

It all started with a casual glance at a flyer taped to the wall beside the water dispenser.

GET TOUGHER, FASTER, STRONGER! SIGN UP NOW!

The cheesy tagline stared you down as you were in the middle of refilling your teal green AquaFlask. And for some dumb reason—sheer curiosity, definitely not because it reminded you of a certain someone—you thought: Why not?

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you’d marched straight up to the nearest staff at the counter, credit card in hand, and asked to sign up. Now, as you stare at the buff woman currently goading you to hit harder, reality sets in and you feel a little lightheaded. Even slightly delirious.

“Up, up–” your trainer urges, somehow not even remotely out of breath, despite being thirty grueling minutes into the session. Meanwhile, you’re standing there, red-faced and sweating like a fucking pig. “Keep your arms up at all times, alright?”

You pant, nodding weakly, fixing your posture. She gives you an approving nod in return.

It’s part of the whole self-improvement thing, anyway. Pushing yourself. Fitness, jazz, and all that. You’ve never had much inclination for sports or anything remotely physically taxing, as far as you can recall.

…Or maybe that decision was made for you the moment you tried out for volleyball in high school and took a spike straight to the face. A memory so humiliating, that your brain did you a favor and buried it deep in the recesses of your mind.

But things are different now! You’re trying new things. You’ve done wall climbing, aerobics, even pulled a hamstring attempting HIIT Tae Bo. And if getting punched in the face is the next step in this… wellness journey, then, well, so be it. You’ll take it with a brave face and, hopefully, minimal bruising to both body and ego.

You slog through two sets of combos and thirty jab-straight-hook-uppercuts, punching like your life depends on it. You’re wheezing like an asthmatic child, and you’re about one bad punch away from toppling over.

Then, mercifully—

“Okay, that’s enough for today.”

Oh, thank god.

“You did good,” she tacks on, flashing you an encouraging smile, like you didn’t just spend the last half hour flailing at the focus mitts with all the grace of a wrecking ball.

You stare at her, unconvinced. Did I? Because from where you’re standing—wobbling, really—you’re pretty sure you looked closer to an overstimulated toddler throwing hands with gravity, but sure. It must’ve been in the fine print, to segue in a little positive reinforcement. Probably to keep people from bolting after the first session.

Not that you’re planning to. No, of course not. You’re just... reevaluating some things. Like your life choices. And your capacity to lift your arms tomorrow. As you trudge your way out of the yoga-studio-turned-boxing-area, still gulping for air and very aware of the soreness settling into your limbs, someone calls out.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You turn your head, blinking in confusion. A guy—mid to late twenties, give or take—jogs up to you, looking offensively too fresh compared to how you feel. “Oh, hi. Sorry, do you mean me?”

He laughs as he slows to a stop, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “Yeah, you. I saw you training with Coach. Just wanted to say—you’re improving.”

You blink. Wait, what?

A wave of mortification rolls through you. Shit, you didn’t know you had an audience. “Uh—thanks, I guess?”

You shift your weight awkwardly, clutching your boxing gloves tightly against your chest.

His grin turns sheepish, as though he realizes how that might’ve come off. “Fuck, sorry. That came out weird, didn’t it? I swear, I wasn't, like, watching the whole thing or anything.” He makes a vague gesture to his left. “The studio’s right in my line of sight when I did my TRX reps. Hard not to notice.”

You force a smile. “Ah, yeah. Figures.”

“I’m Byron, by the way,” he offers, sticking out a hand.

Now that you get a proper look at him, you notice he’s got this kind of… geeky charm going for him. Curly hair, sleepy brown eyes behind round, rimless glasses, and shy boy-next-door vibes—except for the fact that he’s jacked.

(Honestly? Work.)

You give him your name, still smiling awkwardly. You’re about to wave goodbye and turn away when— “So, what are you doing later?”

Um.

You hesitate. “I’m, uh… heading straight home after this?” Your voice comes out a little more uncertain than you intended, mostly because you’re not really sure why he’s still talking to you.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he replies quickly, glancing down like he’s suddenly nervous. “I just… thought I’d ask if you’d wanna grab coffee sometime?”

Oh.

It takes a moment for the question to fully register. The first thought that pops in your head is: Wait, how does he know I’m a barista?

… The second thought is one of pure disbelief. Holy shit, did I just get asked out? At the gym? By the Temu version of Peter Parker?

Your face burns hotter than it did mid-workout, caught completely off guard.

“I—woah, um.” You stumble over your words, eyes quickly darting away from him. “Sorry, I already have… a boyfriend. If—if that’s what you’re leading up to.”

You say it like a question. He picks up on it.

“You don’t sound too convinced,” he comments with a light chuckle, shaking his head. “If you’re not interested, you can just say that, you know.”

A prickle of irritation flares up, followed by something sharper—something that stings. You push it down. “No, he’s just… not around.” “Ah.” He clicks his tongue sympathetically. “Long distance?” “…Yeah.” You have no idea.

He shrugs, undeterred. “Alright, no pressure. We could always just hang out as friends, if you want.”

I… don’t think I do. “Um, maybe?” you answer instead, forcing out a laugh.

“Oh, come on,” he says, his grin widening. “You can even introduce me to your boyfriend,” he emphasizes the word out, “when he gets back. Does he work out? We could all hit the gym together.”

Social anxiety is afraid of this man, you think belatedly. Unfortunately for him, you’re the very embodiment of what fears him.

You’re so out of your element that all you can manage is, “He boxes too, actually.”

“Yeah? He any good?”

That gets an involuntary snort out of you. Unthinkingly, you say, “Could probably beat you up.”

Byron laughs, startled but amused, shaking his head as he raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright—message received.” He flashes you a wide smile. “Well, if you change your mind about the coffee, I’ll be around.” He jerks his chin toward the pack fly by the corner. “There, usually.”

Okay, nerd. Despite yourself, you can’t help but find the whole thing slightly hilarious. Then again, you find humor in the dumbest things. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You offer him a quick, half-hearted wave, trying (and failing) to mask your embarrassment with an exaggerated, too-casual show of nonchalance. It’s so painfully awkward, you can feel yourself internally dying from the cringe of it all.

Without another word, you spin on your heel and start speed-walking away, practically running back to the safety of your personal space.

Smooth.

––––

It’s another relatively easy night at the bistro. You’re on the last two hours of your shift, and you’re carrying a single glass of roseberry mule to serve at table four. As you round the corner, you catch sight of a student, glasses perched low on her nose, completely absorbed in a thick coursebook on Programming Languages. Papers are scattered across the table, and she looks to be utterly engrossed in her readings, unaware of the world around her.

You don’t want to bother her more than necessary, about to set the drink down on the only clear space—by the iPad propped up on a tablet holder to her right—when something red catches your attention.

A familiar pair of crimson eyes stops you dead in your tracks.

For a moment, you feel like you’re suspended in time. The sharp memory of a similar instance where you’re in her place, and he’s there, keeping you company while he’s polishing a gun burns through your brain, and you don’t–you can’t think—

You stand there, rooted to the spot, wide-eyed and unmoving. Then, the girl’s gaze shifts to you, and a hot flush spreads across her cheeks, betraying her surprise.

With swift fingers, she locks the screen with a quick flick on the power button, pulling you away and breaking you from the echoes of the past.

“Oh, shit,” she giggles, a nervous edge to her voice. “That’s embarrassing.”

You shake your head, forcing yourself back to the present moment. “No—no, don’t worry about it,” you chuckle weakly, setting the drink down beside her with shaky hands. “Cute guy, honestly.”

That makes her giggle louder, her eyes bright with an almost conspiratorial glint. “Oh my god, you have no idea.”

Fuck—you can’t breathe.

––––

The night hangs thick with stifling heat, accompanied by the steady ticking of the clock as you catch your breath, your broken moans too loud in the heavy silence. The sheets cling to your feverish skin, damp and uncomfortable, as your body moves in a rhythm that feels unnatural now, but still—but always—familiar.

Your chest rises and falls in shallow, rapid breaths as you force the draconic toy deep inside you. The heat, the fire—it licks at your skin, making your whole body yearn for more. To chase more of the feeling, to chase more of the memory of him.

Errant strands of hair stick to your forehead, your chest flushed and burning, a quiet throb spreading through you with every friction, every desperate movement.

Your body aches, a relentless thrum urging you to push deeper, to find something—anything—to fill the gaping hole inside you, a wound you’ve tried to stitch shut over months, now threatening to tear its way open again, once more ripping from the seams.

A sharp pressure builds inside you. Your body stretches too far, too much, struggling to take in what it can’t quite handle. It burns in a way that hurts, but you need it. You need to feel more, to fill the emptiness, to grasp at something that feels real.

“Yours, yours–” you tremble, desperate. “Yours. Just yours. Please.”

You lie in the wake of it—pleasure fading into something heavier, regret creeping in like a shadow, waiting as always.

“I miss you,” you whisper in the dark. You always do.

You try to ignore the pull of it, the sharp descent that comes with the high.

You were doing so well.

But it’s fine. You’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

The words swirl and echo in your mind, until they’re swallowed by sounds that ring hollow. You let the moment wash over you, sinking beneath the weight of the tides, where sorrow and longing blur with the fleeting warmth of what you can’t keep.

Tomorrow will be another day. Another chance to try again.

For now, you let go of your grip on the fragile raft of sanity you’ve built, painstakingly, for months on end.

Tonight, you let yourself drown once more in the somber depths of loneliness and despair, confined within these four walls that feel—once more—like a penitentiary.

––––

The plane begins its slow descent, and through the window, the world comes into view—large swathes of land interrupted by winding roads that seem to follow no rhyme, nor pattern. A river glints faintly beneath the fading sun, while the sky turns a dull blue, a washed-out slate, streaked with the last embers of daylight.

Below, the small city stirs.

Tiny specks of color flicker to life, lanterns strung along the streets like beads on a thread, marking the season, an ending, and the inevitable turning of time. A chill hangs in the air, the wind whipping past you from the half-open window of the taxi, sharp and crisp in a way that you can only find in the province.

Your hometown.

It all rushes past in a blur of light and shadow, an eclectic mix of old and new—some buildings unchanged, others unfamiliar, as if they’d sprung up in the years you’ve been away. It’s been a while since you last came back, long enough for the roads to feel... foreign, almost. Though muscle memory stirs when the car takes a turn. One you could have easily navigated even with your eyes closed.

Only your sister lives here now, her and her family—a couple of hundred miles far. Far enough to feel like another world, yet close enough for the past to catch up the moment you lay eyes on the old two-story house tucked away on the quaint cul-de-sac of this suburban neighborhood.

The residential property was left to her, scrawled onto the title in an act of generosity, perhaps. Or maybe as a weight your mother never intended to carry, something meant to anchor her eldest child while she carved a different life for herself elsewhere. Free-spirited as she is, she left with the ease of someone shedding an old coat, slipping into the shoes of another, barely a glance over her shoulder.

But houses remember. And as you step out of the vehicle, your feet meeting the rough asphalt that once belonged to your childhood, you wonder if they remember you too.

"Maru, Maru!" Your five-year-old niece cries the moment she spots the grumpy feline peering through the mesh of his portable prison.

"What—no excitement for me too?" you tease, ruffling her hair. She giggles, scrunching up her nose.

"Auntie, hi! Hi!"

You snort at her enthusiasm, setting the carrier down. The second you pull at the zipper, Maru springs out, landing with a soft thud before stalking off with his usual air of disdain. Your niece shrieks with delight.

"Ah! Cat!"

"Well, there go the chances of her socializing with her brother," your sister remarks dryly from the doorway, sauntering closer. "Hey, stranger."

"Hey," you greet, hoisting a handful of paper bags. "Where do I dump these?"

She eyes the bags. "Any of those for me?"

"You have three kids, and one of them insisted on a Lego set. Do you know how much those cost?" You shoot her a flat look. "You’re getting socks."

"Wow, stingy." She huffs but takes some of the bags anyway, hitching one onto her hip as she grabs your other hand-carry.

You step inside, and the house greets you with a riot of lights and color. Plastic tinsel and bright string lights drape across every visible surface—along the bannister, around doorways—leaving no space untouched by the festive chaos. A Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, nearly buried beneath an avalanche of baubles and sentimental ornaments collected over the years.

The room feels swallowed by the exuberance of it all, an almost overwhelming jamboree of holiday cheer.

It’s gaudy, excessive, and completely over-the-top, but beneath it all, the bones of your childhood home remain unchanged—familiar in a way that settles deep in your chest. The Narra wood floors are still scuffed with the marks of time, there’s still the distinct tang of turpentine mixed with waxy resin and citrus you’ve long since associated with home, and the odd decorative masks still line the far wall, their painted expressions frozen mid-celebration.

Your eyes land on the canvas floater above the mantel—a whimsical cross-stitch of three women flying kites, their stitched dresses rippling in imagined wind. You remember it well, though you never quite understood why your mother had chosen that particular scene to painstakingly sew into existence. Still, it belongs here, another piece of the house's patchwork history.

Your gaze shifts to the couch, where Andrew, your sister's husband, is sprawled out, one arm lazily draped over the backrest, the other holding his phone.

He flicks his gaze up at you, offering a half-hearted wave before turning back to whatever has him so absorbed on the screen. Beside him, your three-year-old nephew is perched on his knees, bouncing with energy as he mirrors Bluey's movements on the TV with exaggerated enthusiasm, his tiny arms flailing in childlike glee.

You sigh inwardly, rolling your eyes. Typical.

“There’s a few more hours before dinner. Want to hang out in the kitchen while I roast the ham?” She asks casually, setting down your bags by the foot of the stairs. “Actually, scratch that—you’re in charge of the punch.”

“You just want a head start on the drinks,” you tease, the banter flowing easily between you. “Hey, where’s the little squirt?”

She points toward the small crib, near the island counter. “She finally stopped crying, thank god. Don’t wake her up, or you’ll be the one in charge of putting her back to sleep.”

The two of you slip into the kitchen, where the air already carries the promise of dinner—cloves and brown sugar blending nicely with the lingering scent of citrus. A tray of ham sits on the counter, prepped and ready, the scored surface glistening under the fluorescent light.

Your sister pulls a bottle of Luisita Oro Rum and Agimat Gin from the second-to-last cupboard and places them on the counter in front of you.

"Go ham," she quips.

You give her a flat look. "You think you’re funny.”

She shrugs, unfazed, and turns her attention back to where she’d left off before your arrival.

The two of you fall into a natural rhythm, the kind that comes from years of cooking together. You work your way through cans of Del Monte, the metallic clinks filling the space as you drain the syrup and dump chunks of mixed fruit into the large punch bowl.

Your sister leans against the counter nearby, arms folded, her gaze fixed on the oven door, as if sheer willpower alone could make the meat cook faster.

In the background, the soft drone of the TV drifts in from the living room, punctuated by your nephew’s occasional giggles.

There’s no rush, no need to fill the silence with anything more than the occasional clang of utensils against glass and the low humming of kitchen appliances. The day is winding down to a close, and for now, everything is alright.

“So, Mom called,” she says casually, one arm braced on the counter as she leans in, glancing at you. “Kept calling, actually.”

“Mm.” You reply noncommittally, shaking the last can’s contents into the crystal bowl, watching as the fruit chunks bob lazily in the pool of alcohol.

“She’s worried about you.”

You don’t answer.

“She was. She is.” Her voice shifts, more serious now. She watches you closely, noting your lack of reaction. “You know that, right?”

Your fingers tighten around the can opener, but you pull your gaze away from the bowl. “I know.”

She sighs, resigned, already familiar with this song and dance. Familiar enough to know there’s no winning this one, not tonight. Not anytime soon. “I am too.”

You blink, before looking away. “Oh.”

And maybe she does worry—your mother. But any hope of truly knowing is swallowed by the chasm between you, the one that keeps your conversations at surface level, never breaching the depths beyond.

Your body, born from hers, perhaps more alike than you realize, might have been brought into this world with the same pains that she’s carried. The pains of separation. The unresolved hurt of being unwillingly removed from your person—her former husband, your father—and that if you and your mother were closer, you could have opened up about your own situation. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t feel like a ship that has lost its ballast, drifting endlessly in the same turbulent seas for the longest time.

But you are your mother’s daughter, and she is her mother’s daughter. There is the truth that the women in your family are not the best communicators, nor do they wear their hearts on their sleeves. So you were born mute and overly sensitive. Pain drips from you, unnoticed, like a purposeless leak in the heart. You’ll carry it with you until you die.

“But you look… okay,” she observes, cocking her head. “Are you okay?”

You swallow. For the same reason you compare your mother to a storm you can't outrun and your sister to an intermittent drizzle, you find it easier to admit, “I haven’t… been okay for a while.”

Not wanting to bring the mood down, especially on a day like today, you quickly add, “Things are better now, though.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “Could be a little more specific there, but I’ll take it.” She gives you an exasperatedly fond look. “You let me know if that changes anytime soon, ‘kay?”

Your lips quirk in the faintest semblance of a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

–

It’s ten minutes before midnight.

You’re leaning against the island counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, nursing a glass of the fruit punch (though it’s mostly gin, with the teensiest amount of fruit), watching your sister’s family at a distance as they eagerly wait for the clock to strike twelve. The blinds of the large living room window have been pulled up, giving an unobstructed view of the sky, ready for the first firework to light up the dark.

For a moment, you feel like an outsider, watching through a lens, as if you’re not quite part of the scene. There’s a strange sense of detachment—voyeuristic, almost—as though you're peering in on a private, intimate moment.

Your sister cradles the infant in her arms, and that all-too-familiar pang stirs to life—the same one that always does when you look at her.

You can't quite place what you're feeling, exactly. It’s tumultuous, and it’s complex. Andrew’s practically dozing off in his seat, and you see your sister shake her head in mild annoyance. Your nephew, fighting to keep his eyes open, starts to fuss.

Something tightens inside your chest.

“Andrew,” she hisses, startling the man awake. He blinks, disoriented, before spotting their son and the early signs of an explosive tantrum.

He sighs, and pulls the boy closer to him. “Hey, hey, little guy. Look at the sky. In just a couple of minutes, the lights are gonna go boom-boom.”

Your nephew sniffs, his eyes blinking up at him as he processes the words. “Boom-boom?”

“Yeah! Just like the one we watched on TV!”

The kid’s face visibly perks up at that, bad mood quickly forgotten. “Boom-boom!”

You watch as your sister’s gaze softens, and a small smile replaces the earlier frown on her face.

And in that instant, you understand.

You look at your sister and, for a brief moment, all you see is a wretched mirror of yourself. She is all of your fears, all of your failures, and all of what you could’ve been rolled into one. Barely in her mid-thirties, and yet already carrying the weight of a family: three kids, a husband who feels like a faded echo of your father—a man who didn’t quite measure up, who never did, and just as unreliable.

You feel the suffocating weight of it all, of being tied to a place that’s meant to be a home but feels more like a tomb, marking the passing of dreams unrealized. She’ll grow old here, buried in the same soil you both sprang from, fading into the landscape of this town that swallows its own.

You look at her and you almost feel the repressed pain of missing the last semester of college to give birth, the lament of a missed opportunity that life has stolen from her.

You feel her pain as if it’s yours. You feel it in the marrow of your bones—her blood flowing through you. “3…” You look at her, and it feels like seeing someone bound, held down by an anchor around her foot, unable to break through the surface of freedom. You look at her and you see dreams once aglow, reduced to cinders. You look at her and see—

She glances up at you.

Oh. “2…” In the fleeting moment where your eyes meet—eyes you two share with your mother—you feel so small.

Just a kid. Shortsighted and unfairly dismissive. Too blind to see your sister’s quiet victories, too selfish to admit you’ve diminished them just so you could feel less alone about your own failures. A child grasping for meaning, unfair in the ways only children can be. “1…” And in the fraction of a second before midnight, it's as if you’ve been doused awake.

You see her anew—what seemed like monotony is really the bedrock of stability; tenacity in place of routine. An almost single-minded doggedness to make something out of this life. You see the steadfast strength she possesses, the kind that gets her up every morning, to face the world and all its demands without question. With purpose.

You see resilience. Compassion. Traits that you’ve always lacked, that you’ve long resented, the same traits your mother never learned to embody.

And now you see your niece in her arms, born from this, and you name the indescribable feeling that dwells in you—borne from the pure look of adoration in your sister’s eyes for her youngest daughter—as envy.

You know, with utmost certainty, that she will be okay, because she has your sister as her mother, and she is so, so loved.

As you watch them, something inside you shifts—a deep, aching realization.

You see… home. Something you've always longed for but never truly found. “Happy new year!” The spell breaks. The two of you startle at the sudden eruption of fireworks, the distant chorus of car horns blaring from the streets outside.

Your niece and nephew jump and shriek, their laughter ringing through the room, celebrating something they barely understand but find joy in anyway. The baby in your sister’s arms lets out a wail at the commotion, and she is soothed instantly with murmurs of soft assurances. Her father struggles upright—then, with no small amount of effort, leans forward to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

The image before you is far from perfect, but it’s theirs.

“Auntie, auntie!” The little rascals cry out in unison, their voices overlapping in excitement. “‘appy n’year!”

A breathless, almost pained laugh escapes you. Still, you smile as you respond with your own, “happy new year!”

You’re tired—tired of running, of measuring yourself against the ghosts of your past. Tired of carrying the weight of a childhood that’s left you with more questions than answers, of making excuses for wounds that should have healed long since. You've spent so much time mourning the growing pains, the irreparable, that you never stopped to see what’s in front of you.

This moment, this realization, feels like the final missing piece in the fractured puzzle of who you are.

The new year arrives, marked by the crackle of fireworks and the loud cheer from your family.

This time, you won’t hesitate. You’ll choose to embrace the change, both good and bad, with open arms. With the quiet resolve of someone finally ready to move forward.

You lift your gaze just as a brilliant burst of red explodes into the night sky, its iridescent glow bleeding into a softer silver before fading into the dark.

A warmth settles deep in your chest—bittersweet, but steady. A quiet peace.

Happy new year, my love. . . . . . . .

. . .

The air at the threshold of Vagrant’s land is restless. Volatile. A hazy distortion ripples through it, folding and unfolding, like a lost mirage—an area of transition between worlds. Porch collapse, he calls it.

Sylus has stood here countless times, watching the way this anomalous disturbance twists the very fabric of this reality, how it flickers in and out of form, erratic. Impossible to predict.

It had taken him longer than he likes to admit to understand the phenomena for what it’s truly worth. Not just an alternate space caused by some spartan energy field. Not just any other protofield. But a thread. A connection. A door.

A fault line between realities, an entryway that hums with the possibility of you.

Since the moment the idea took hold, he had thought of little else. It has consumed him in every waking moment; his entire being seeming to bend toward a singular purpose—getting to you. He had torn through endless streams of data, followed every unstable pulse of energy, mapped its fluctuations down to the smallest inconsistency.

Nights bled into days, and days bled into weeks, until he can no longer keep track. Not that the passage of time meant much to him at this point.

He’s worked tirelessly through the stillness, through the storms of uncertainty, through the aching silence left by your absence. Ever since you’ve exchanged your temporary goodbyes.

He had measured everything he could—the unstable frequency of radio signals streaming through the interstice. He had traced the influx in real time; recording the rate of deterioration, isolating the waveform, and filtering out outside interferences.

But for all the data he gathered, for all the precision in his calculations, the core of this phenomenon remained just out of reach. His knowledge on the matter is rudimentary at most. He could waste years observing for abnormalities, trying to decipher how its presence has disrupted the very threads of this universe, but the why and how of it all will still elude him.

Still, theory matters less than function. He doesn’t need to understand the full depth of it. He only needs to harness it.

It’s a gamble.

Contrary to whatever reputation he’s earned for himself, Sylus has never been one to play his cards recklessly. He deals in certainties, in probabilities stacked in his favor, in risks that—while dangerous—are still within his grasp to control. He has never been the type to leap without knowing where he’d land.

But this is different.

He has never needed to, before. Never had a reason to throw himself into the unknown with no assurance of survival, no way to predict the outcome.

He had no reason to—until you.

Now, it matters less whether or not the odds of his survival are abysmal, that he has no precedent to follow. That your world might reject him entirely. None of it matters. Because if the choice is between staying and never reaching you, or plunging into the great, endless unknown—

He’ll take the leap, every time. Without hesitation.

He’ll leave this world behind, step beyond the edges of everything that has ever defined him, and venture into lands unseen, uncharted. Unknown. He doesn’t know what awaits him on the other side. If he’ll make it there in one piece. If he will make it there at all.

Sylus has never really questioned why he’s the anomaly in this world. The curiosities of his existence are yours to ponder. After all, he finds that he doesn’t care much of the answer as much as he cares about being with you.

Because wherever you are—that is home.

He takes a step forward, and the universe dissolves into a blinding light.

Sylus wakes to the sensation of weight.

Something presses on him heavily, sinking into his limbs like gravity itself is wrapping around him for the first time.

The ground beneath him is unfamiliar, uneven—tangible in a way he’s never felt before. His fingertips press into the damp earth, leaving the faintest imprint, yielding beneath his touch. The scent of soil rises around him; a rich, bitter brown.

This world does not recognize him, yet it cradles him like its own all the same.

Above, the sky erupts.

Fireworks split open the night, streaks of color exploding and dissipating in an instant—too fleeting to hold, too bright to ignore. A flashbang of incandescent reds and fluorescent greens, followed by bursts of crackling gold and shimmering silver scatter into tiny pinpricks before fading into the darkness.

The air is heavier here, denser in a way that feels almost… alien. It clings to the contours of his new form, seeps into his lungs with every breath.

And oh, how it burns. Not in pain, but in its sheer presence. It rushes into him not as mere oxygen but as something real. Something palpable. He’s lost in the sensation.

He exhales. Then winces.

Immediately, he feels it—the weakness. The brittleness of this new body. Gone is the invulnerability he once wielded so effortlessly, the certainty that nothing could touch him unless he allowed it.

That certainty is gone now, stripped away the moment he crossed the threshold.

He is flesh and bone. Finite. Mortal.

A lesser man might have feared it.

But in the middle of this empty field, miles away from civilization, Sylus can only laugh.

He tips his head back, reeling from the sheer impossibility of it all, eyes tracing the brilliant display above—as if committing it to memory, a coronation of sorts. Of existence. Of arrival. Of a life finally his own.

Reborn. And for the first time in his existence, he is alive.

––––

It’s summer—the summer that marks two years since he left.

Two years. It’s enough time to feel the weight of it, but not enough to make the events feel like something that happened a lifetime ago.

The seasons cycle once more, as they always do, pushing time forward with a steady, indifferent rhythm. And with that change comes a familiar pang—a bittersweet ache, neither grief nor regret, just the weight of knowing that nothing stays the same. Mono no aware.

You’re closer to thirty now, and the thought doesn’t terrify you as much as it did before. Your hair’s in a pixie cut—short and sleek, although the edges are a little ragged from the half-assed trimming you gave it a few days ago.

It would have made you feel stupid, once upon a time, for trying out something drastic for a new look. Instead, you just take it for what it is—one more thing you did because you wanted to. Like the rest of the choices you’ve made over the past two years. It’s yours. Uneven, impulsive, maybe a little questionable. But yours.

It’s liberating. Even if it makes your head look like a pencil.

The voice—the one that picks at your face, your body, your thoughts, everything down to the last imperfection—never really shuts up. It’s quieter now, easier to ignore, but it still lurks in the background, waiting for an opening, a moment of weakness. Maybe it always will. Maybe that’s just the price of being human.

But you don’t fight it anymore. You don’t let it drag you down to a breaking point. You carry yourself differently now, you'd say. No pep in your step just yet, but you don’t feel the need to drag your heels either. Literally and figuratively.

The change has come in waves—sometimes gentle, sometimes harsh—but it’s there, marking you, marking the passage of time. Just like the earth, just like the seasons, you’ve shifted and grown. And perhaps that’s enough.

The sky is ablaze now, a deepening canvas of pinks and purples as the sun sinks lazily to the west. The fiery orange light spills through the large windows, bleeding into every corner of the room, and the world outside seems to slow, caught in the hour before dusk.

You’re behind the counter, wiping down plates with the kind of ease that comes from repetition, the motion so ingrained in you that it barely registers anymore. It’s all routine—the rhythm of it, the quiet hum of the bistro, the clinking of porcelain. The air is thick with the sticky smell of warm pastries, and it’s the sort of evening that feels almost liminal. A moment suspended in time.

You hear the soft tinkling of the door chimes, signaling the arrival of another customer.

It’s a soft, unassuming sound, barely noticeable against the evening lull. You swipe your hands across your apron, turning on instinct, your mouth already forming the usual greeting.

“Hi, welcome to—”

The words die in your throat.

It’s a slow unfolding—almost a gradual realization that stretches across the seconds like the last rays of sun dipping beneath the horizon. He stands in the doorway, a figure outlined in gold, and his presence fills the space between you, no barrier that separates, and it feels... impossible. Unimaginable. Inevitable.

His height is the first thing you notice. He’s taller than you expected, and you know he’ll tower over you, even at a distance. His hair is dark now, the color of midnight, almost—not the silver you once traced with your fingers in your mind. The cut is still similar to what you’ve always known it to be, though a little more unkempt, as if he’s lived in this body long enough for it to take on its own wear.

Then his eyes. The red is gone—no longer the shade of crimson that used to see right through you, those sanguine pools you once loved. In its place, a stormy grey, deep and impossibly expressive, pulling you in like an undertow. The color is striking, alien in its own way, yet there’s a warmth buried beneath it—and the familiarity of it tugs at you.

Even with the changes, even though you’ve never met the person standing in front of you, you’ll know him anywhere.

There’s a shift in the room, a subtle, yet unmistakable change in the air. It’s as if the whole bistro has drawn in a breath—and you with it. Time stretches thin, each passing second expanding into what feels like an eternity.

Your eyes lock—and for a moment, nothing else exists.

It’s as if the world has shifted off its axis. Or, perhaps more accurately, it’s as though a piece that’s always been missing has finally snapped into place.

Something settles in you, something foreign and indescribably familiar at the same time.

Sylus smiles.

“Hello, my love. Have I kept you waiting?”

It feels like home.

____

“Now I found myself this kind of love, I can't believe it I'll never leave it behind I thought I'd never get to feel another fucking feeling But I feel— This love, this love, this love Oh, I feel it.”

End A/N: So this is done! Wow! I'm kind of proud of myself for writing something this long in the span of, idk, three months? Basically, the entire duration of my "vacation" back home. Now with another term and a busier schedule coming up, I really wanted to finish this series before life catches up to me. *sobs* Anyway, I'm so, so happy about the reception of this fic, and you've all been so sweet :') Again, thank you for reading! I'll see you in the spin-off, or whatever shit I put out next haha <3 Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy @touya-apologist @gladiolus-mamacitia @btszn @wrimaira

1K notes · View notes