#Hand Capsule Filling Machine

[adinathinternationalindia]

Hand Operated Capsule Filling Machine

For small to medium-sized manufacturing batches, the Hand Operated capsule filling machine is an excellent and cost-effective option. Numerous businesses, including the pharmaceutical, herbal, dietary supplement, and herbal product production sectors, use this 300-hole machine.

Hard gelatin capsules containing powders and granules are filled and sealed using Adinath’s Hand Operated capsule filling process. Because it features a bed with 300 holes and a tray with the same number of holes, this machine is also known as a 300 hole capsule filling machine. Lever, pressing plate with rubber sheet, and pin plate are included with the machine. Depending on the size of the capsules, the machine can fill a large number of them every hour with hassle-free operations. With additional parts and machinery, it can also handle capsules with diameters ranging from 00 to 5. The non-contact sections are constructed with hard chrome plating, which enhances its appearance, and all contact parts are composed of SS 304. Whole SS 304 or 316 machines can also be provided based on the specific needs of each client.

[blood-smiles]

𝐈’𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐅! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 . MDNI . gore . blood brought up very often. sexual assault attempt towards reader (not by yandere) . wounds

જ⁀➴ Your legs burned, limbs clearly unprepared as you sprinted out into the field like a wild gazelle. You hadn’t even begun to work, all you could feel was the sting in your chest, your heart brimming with adrenaline.

Your heart thundered in your ears, you could feel the vibrations of the organ in the right of your chest. Sweat dribbled down your back, mixing with the rain sprinkling from above, bullets zipped past your form just narrowly missing you by a silk thread.

You didn’t know where you were running to, you just were. You were quick and lithe, not a single bullet or stray piece of debris grazed you.

You slid to a stop, the muddy ground underneath your combat boots squelching under your weight. A man, clearly a soldier, judging by his camo uniform and badge, clutched his side while crying out in pain, he kicked his feet on the ground in a way to try and release some of the pain.

He got mud and rainwater all over you but that wasn’t important, you had to help this man, somehow. You studied his wound with the focus of a scholar, features taut with anxiety and the slightest hint of foreboding.

This was the hardest part of your job. Not the blood and bodily fluids, not the close monitoring of wounds, not the procedure but this— Knowing that the decision of letting this man live was in your hands, that a single mistake could send this man to his early grave.

You applied pressure with a cloth you had in tucked in your cargo pockets, your palm firmly pressing against the gaping hole in his side. 

You watched how the once white fabric turned a murky scarlet color, warmth seeped underneath your palm and soaked your hands.

“Don’t worry. You’re safe, you’re going to be okay.” You reassured the injured fellow, making sure to keep a calm, even tone of voice. 

You seemed sure and collected on the outside, like you had everything coldly calculated, almost as if you had already saved this man.

But the truth was far from it. You were a nervous wreck inside, tears pricked your vision, your throat burned and closed in with the need to weep for this man. Your knees were shaking even though you weren’t the one in pain, you allowed him to softly place his hand on your forearm.

“Please stay awake, I need you to stay awake.” You implored, your mind working like a tiny machine, an encyclopedia of methods and practices you had done in the past opening inside your brain.

You carefully planned your next action, his hand tightened on your arm, his dirty nails digging into your skin as he gave a weak cry, you pinched your eyebrows together in deep confusion.

“Sir. Sir? What’s happening?” You asked frantically, finally, panic seeping into your tone. He mouthed something, his whole body shuddering as he tried to muster the last of his strength to point at something behind you.

You read his bloody lips.

‘BEHIND YOU.’

You didn’t even have time to blink, because as soon as you opened your mouth to speak to the soldier, he was already dead.

BANG!

A bullet was planted between his brows, from

how loud the gun sounded it was like someone had shot him almost face to face.

Warm blood sprayed across your face, someone was behind you. Someone was behind you. Someone was behind you.

You breathed in, but you couldn’t move. There was nowhere to go anymore. You were stuck between the sword and the wall. Cornered like a lamb at the mercy of a vicious wolf.

The tears you had been battling against drained out your eyes, and as soon as the first salty droplet could hit the ground a boisterous sound filled your ears.

Before you could formulate your last words pain ripped through you endlessly, with no warning or hesitation. It shot you in the side, you could feel the foreign capsule burying itself in your guts.

The metal felt hot, god. It felt so hot. It felt like you were forced to touch boiling iron, but you weren’t allowed to pull away. There was nowhere way to escape the scalding heat of the bullet because it was inside you.

You had never screamed so loudly in your life, you hit the ground with an ear splitting wail, you curled in on yourself next to the deceased soldier. 

 IthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurts IthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurts IthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurts IthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurts IthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurts

You let out a choked sob, something between a cry of pain and a scream. 

A grand man chuckled at your pain, you could see the vague outline of his body out of the corner of your eye. He was large, built like a ravenous wolf, his teeth were bared, sharp and crooked like daggers as he bent down beside you.

His cold hands took a careless grip on your ankles, a new feeling arose, fear. Raw, primal fear. 

His grip was so tight and hurtful that he might have shattered your bones without even noticing— But it wasn’t like he even cared.

What was he going to do to you? You screamed and kicked in desperation, his hands creeped higher up to your knees.

Were you going to die like this? Why? What did you do wrong? You did everything they told you to.

Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me?

Tears didn’t stop, the dam behind your eyes broke. The walls of the well had ruptured, it held years upon years of hate and suffering, and now that it had burst a tidal wave, one with the height of a tsunami had left nothing in its wake.

Your throat felt stuffed with rocks, your vocal cords strained inside you, clawing at the ground, soil settling underneath your nails.

You had tried to fight, you really did but blood was starting to settle in a pool underneath you. Your hair had chunks of dirt and blood, your skin had small cuts and was debauched by debris and flesh that wasn’t yours.

The clouds had parted, a single beam of light pushing through the skies and falling on the burly figure of a soldier with hair as golden as the sun.

Was that an angel? Was he here for you?

Peace at last, why did you feel peace? As soon as you caught a glimpse of those cold, steel blue eyes you felt.. free.

The fight inside had left you.

Like you could rest, maybe it was the blood loss getting to you. The ground underneath suddenly felt warm and comfortable, like the dreamiest of beds, the ones filled with swan feathers that only royals had the luxury of using.

Your eyes fluttered closed, a soft exhale leaving your lips. Blood and rainwater soaked your clothing, you lost consciousness with a small smile.

It was a blessing that you had closed your eyes, because at the least that had protected you from the carnage and absolute inhumane cruelty that would exhibited in front of your unconscious body.

The so called angel was no divine being, but the infamous lieutenant who had his sights set on you, perhaps too closely.

He didn’t hesitate to take the other man from his throat, his thick fingers wrapped around the rugged man’s neck, his nails dug into the thick muscles like the teeth of a bear trap.

The separation of meat from muscle was quick and brutal, Marcelle’s hand ripped the man’s throat out like tearing fat from a chicken leg. It was a disgusting show of force and power, and it was all done for some girl.

Marcelle’s chest heaved, pure rage ran through his veins like adrenaline, his nose was scrunched up like a rabid bear’s would. Someone had hurt you, the light to his darkness, the moon among so many stars.

They tried to tear you from his arms, tried to take advantage of your weak build and gentle heart.

Hate wasn’t an adequate word for what he really felt, it was an understatement of what was going through his twisted head.

The wolf-like man’s larynx dropped on the floor with a wet splat, blood rushed out of the exposed maw that once used to be his throat.

Marcelle was nowhere done with him though. 

A tactical knife strapped on his thigh was dislodged, then driven into the wolf’s stomach, the blonde pressed the blade so tight against his flesh that the peritoneum had been torn apart like a bag of candy on the hallow’s eve.

Guts spilled everywhere, slimy sausage shaped innards were the first to go, unfurling from his stomach like climbing rope.

Everything dropped down at his feet, contaminated filth mixed with blood and mud. Marcelle scoffed at how easy it was to kill this one, it wasn’t a big show of strength to pull this guy apart like tender teriyaki.

The mangled one lost his balance, falling onto his knees while choking on carmine, it sprayed everywhere along with chunks of meat, or what was left of it.

The blonde bear grabbed the disfigured man by his hair, then pressed a dirty boot onto the small of his back. He yanked with vigor at the other’s scalp while maintaining hard pressure on his back.

Then a sick crack came from the crumpled’s spine, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, swollen with blood and severed capillaries.

His spine had been severed in two, cleanly snapped like a toothpick.

The man bent backwards in the fashion of an arc, the cadaver looked like it was doing gymnastics, but really his body was so greatly damaged that his spine couldn’t maintain his weight, he was bent at such an unnatural extent it hurt just by looking at  him.

Marcelle kicked away the body and its innards, sending what was of a man into a puddle, leaving his organs and blood to mingle with the water.

He saw you, curled up like a kitten. But blood streamed out your side like a river, it wouldn’t stop, he panicked.

He dropped beside you, picking you up with the gentleness of what could only be compared to picking up an injured baby bird. He touched your face with the delicate touch of a feather, your face was dirty, streaked with dirt and crimson. 

He pressed his ear against your chest, the soft thump of your heart whispering that you had limited time.

His breath caught in his throat.

He was taught to never cry. That a man should never cry in the presence of anyone, but in this moment, this miserable and unfortunate situation he could do no less than weep.

All he could see was the tiny smile on your lips, your precious visage ruined by destruction of war. You didn’t stop bleeding, you can’t stop. His eyes watered, for the first time in decades he allowed himself to shed a tear.

“No.. No— You can’t.. You won’t leave me!” He yelled to your unconscious form, his dirtied hand grasping your limp one. He squeezed tightly, hoping that if he gripped hard enough you would react, that those pretty (e/c) eyes would look up at him one last time.

His distress was heard, a group of young soldiers trotted over to him, finding their great lieutenant distraught over the soon to be corpse of a nurse.

He hugged the body close to his chest, trying to share warmth to the wounded girl, his chin rested over her head, his thick fingers smoothing over her filthy hair, they weren’t sure if he was trying to soothe the injured woman or himself.

They came up to him, touching his shoulder and trying to reach the nurse in his arms. He didn’t take well to that.

He snapped at them, snarling like a furious bear protecting his young. He clawed at them, finding a discarded gun somewhere, it shook in his hands as he aimed at them. His finger looped into the trigger, only to hear a click.

Blank.

Blank.

Blank.

The gun was empty of bullets, so he took the next alternative, the only thing he knew to do, fight with his fists.

There was no one that could go up against him, they knew that Marcelle could divorce their head from their shoulders clean.

“You are not going to take her.” He rasped, putting himself between you and the men. Now they all looked like enemies, like big red training targets with white swirls. 

The cadets glanced at each other, just barely noticing the lifeless bodies surrounding the blonde and the wounded girl in his arms.

“Holy shit..” one of them murmured as he looked around, Marcelle had gone berserk, especially on this man at his feet, completely disemboweled— Where was his throat? 

He stared at the human remains on the floor, feeling the urge to vomit his stomach out right here and there.

A new voice pushed through, the head nurse shouldered men away as she jogged towards the pair of bloodied lovers.

“Look. I don’t care who you are or what your rank is—“ she began, walking towards Marcelle with no fear whatsoever.

“But that girl is going to die if you keep hoarding her like an aggressive mutt!” She yelled, beads of sweat collecting on her brow, she plowed through the mud and dirt just to make it to you.

Marcelle stared at her with a vacant look in his eyes, he didn’t have it in him to touch a woman with intent of harm.

His grip tightened as she approached, water dripped now his face, sweat and rain soaked his uniform. He wasn’t about to let her tug you away, over his dead body.

She tried to pull you away, her hands gripping your forearms as hard as she could but Marcelle’s hold was unrelenting and soon she would have to call herself defeated in the strength game.

“Fine. You can carry her.” She said with an edge to her voice, she took the collar of her uniform in her hands and pulled him up how a dog would pick up a puppy by its scruff.

“But she is going to to live and you are going to take her back now.” She demanded it like his first drill sergeant, he listened to that one order, he slowly ascended from the ground and followed the nurse.

He stared at your face the whole way he walked, his finger curved gently, his pad brushing away your hair behind your ear.

You’re going to be okay, you’re going to live.

His jaw tensed as a new wave of emotions ran over him, he couldn’t break down, not yet. He had to be strong for you.

He gently pressed his forehead against yours, his palm gently residing over your chest, feeling the soft thump of your heart under his hand.

He didn’t remember clearly when but he got ushered out of a room, he woke up in a sterile area surrounded by other people in what seemed to be a waiting room.

He vaguely recalled that he had to be restrained by four men, he got stabbed with a tranquilizer and that’s when everything went dark.

Where were you? His heart picked up in his chest, what had happened? Were you alive?

With a sudden movement he got up from his seat, a clipboard fell from his lap onto the ground. It held only a blank paper, with a single room number in it written in blue ink.

Marcelle had never ran faster in his life, he didn’t know or care how many people he knocked down as he sprinted through the halls. Nurses and doctors turned their heads at breakneck speeds as he zipped past them like a wild animal.

He opened your room door with a bang, sweat gathered on his forehead and his body burned, there you rested.

You, covered in bandages, body clean of dirt and blood, your hair looking soft like nothing had ever touched it. Soft morning light entered through the window, you glowed under the sun like a white dove.

You were hooked up to a monitor, constant beeping telling him you were still alive, it seemed you were breathing on your own, judging by the way your chest slowly rose and fell.

He was filthy with grime and sweat, he could never touch you, afraid he would taint you he stood back. He wanted nothing more than to touch your face, to see your smile again.

It wasn’t long until he was unceremoniously kicked out your room by your main caregiver. 

Marcelle came back the day after, and the day after and the days following that. He kneeled beside your bed like a puppy nudging his owner’s hand with its muzzle.

His hand gently held yours, he placed it over his head, on his cheek, just to feel your touch again. Just to feel the way your fingers would run through his hair again, to feel your fingers curing his wounds again.

He weeped more in that hospital than he had cried in his whole life. He was sure that he would drown in his own tears if he kept it up, he missed you so much, he wouldn’t leave your side for a moment.

There were times he would refuse to leave your room at all, security was forced to tranquilize him and at one point threatened to place a restraining order if he didn’t abide by their rules.

Then that day came, he sat by your bed, holding your hand to his heart, praying to whatever was up there to bring his baby back to him. 

He had never been a faithful man, but if that’s what it took to make you wake up, he would pray all day, everyday no matter the hour or situation.

The slightest twitch from your fingers made him jump, a glimmer in his grey eyes showed that he had hope. He stared at your hand, waiting for that little movement to come back.

Your eyelids moved, your facial muscles twitched, Marcelle stood from his chair abruptly, the furniture scratching the floor and making an unpleasant screech.

You opened your eyes, your beautiful (e/c) hues flitted around the room with confusion, the grogginess of consciousness filling you again.

You looked through your blurry memories, it felt like looking through frosted glass but you remembered a few things, the one that stood out to you most was the blonde angel.

There he was again. 

Why was he crying? You wondered, trying to sit up only to give up when the pain was too unbearable, the man pushed you back down, scolding you and forcing you back into the bed.

You recognized him, your first patient ever. Marcelle.

Just when you were about to speak he basically pounced, he hugged you like you would disappear in that moment. He felt warm and comfortable, you could barely bring your hands to wrap around him.

His shoulders shook with silent sobs, he couldn’t stop crying again, but this time it wasn’t out of sorrow but happiness.

You were back. You were alive and in his arms.

He pulled away, looking you in the face as if this was all a dream, he touched your every feature, trying to re assure himself that this was no fantasy.

“I love you.” Were the first words he said when you woke up, that might have sent you to another coma in that moment.

The blood from your wound had rushed up to your cheeks, you searched his face for any trace of a joke but then remembered.

Marcelle doesn’t do jokes.

He kissed your hand softly, tears still streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t kiss you yet, you were healing and could catch sicknesses especially quickly.

So he would wait, wait until you were ready.

“I think.. I love you too.” You shyly smiled, fingers trembling with embarrassment.

To Marcelle, waiting would prove to be more difficult than he thought.

[heliosunny]

Hi, hi, hi!

I know he's not from Honkai but I saw that a long while ago you did a Neuvillette post. So I was wondering if I could get a Neuvillette Lucky Egg?

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Neuvillette x Reader

You had never believed in luck. If you did, your life wouldn’t be what it was now—stuck in a tiny apartment with your childhood friend, Melis, who made sure to remind you of every single bad decision you’d ever made. She wasn’t cruel, exactly, but she had a way of making you feel like an idiot.

So when you saw the Lucky Egg Dispenser at the back of a convenience store, promising "A once-in-a-lifetime blessing!", you almost walked past it.

But something about it made you stop.

It looked old, the paint chipped around the edges, but the golden lettering still shimmered under the fluorescent lights. A sign above it read:

"One egg per person. No refunds. Your fate awaits."

It was probably a scam. A cheap plastic trinket inside, or some useless charm. But before you could talk yourself out of it, you fed a few coins into the slot and turned the crank.

Clunk.

A round capsule tumbled into your waiting hands. The plastic casing snapped open, revealing—

An egg?

It was smooth, cool to the touch, and a pale blue color, almost pearlescent. Strange, but… oddly pretty. You turned it over in your hands, half-expecting a hidden button or compartment, but it was just an egg.

Three Days Later

The egg sat on your nightstand for days, untouched. Melis had scoffed when she saw it.

"Really? You wasted money on that?"

You ignored her.

Something in you didn’t want to throw it away.

Then, on the third night, you woke to a soft crack.

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you turned toward the sound and saw the egg trembling, thin fractures spreading across its surface. You barely had time to react before the shell split apart, breaking open like a delicate flower and something small tumbled out, landing in the nest of blankets you’d unknowingly made around it.

A child.

No—a dragon.

He looked human, mostly, but too otherworldly to be mistaken for one. His silver hair curled softly around his face, and from his head sprouted two smooth, curved horns. A long, sinuous tail flicked behind him, twitching as he adjusted to his new surroundings.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head—his purple eyes locking onto yours.

"You" he murmured, his voice like distant thunder.

The little dragon boy—because that’s what he was—blinked up at you, his eyes filled with something… old. Too knowing for a child. And yet, he was small, barely bigger than a toddler, his limbs still weak from hatching.

His tail flicked, curling slightly around your wrist where your hand had instinctively moved forward. His warmth seeped into your skin, gentle but noticeable.

"You’re the one who called me here" he said.

"I… I just got an egg from a machine. I didn’t—"

Your heart pounded. This was insane. But the weight of him, the warmth of his tiny body, the way his delicate claws curled into the fabric of your shirt—

He was real. And cute? Extremely cute.

And now he was your responsibility.

The First Day

By morning, you had accepted two things:

You had somehow acquired a baby dragon.

Melis could never find out.

So far, you were lucky. She had left early for work, grumbling about her awful manager, and you had time to figure things out.

Your new… companion had been surprisingly quiet. He sat on your bed, watching you with eerie patience as you gathered whatever food you had—some bread, a few leftover scraps from last night’s dinner.

"Do you eat?" you asked awkwardly, holding out a piece of toast.

He stared at it, then at you. Then, very deliberately, he leaned forward and bit your wrist.

"Ow—!" You yanked your hand back, but he barely broke the skin. It wasn’t an attack, more like… an experiment. His small fangs left the faintest indentations before he pulled away, licking his lips.

"Strange" he murmured. "Your energy tastes different than before."

Your what? You stared at him, but he only blinked, as if you were the one being weird.

"I require no food," he finally said. "I only need you."

The Second Day

By the next morning, he was taller.

Noticeably so.

The clothes you had scrounged together for him—a too-big hoodie and some old shorts—fit better now. His limbs were longer, more proportional. His horns had grown slightly, and his tail swayed behind him with more control.

"You… grew."

"Yes." He looked at you, unbothered. "I told you. I only need you."

What did that mean?

The Third Day

You had a problem.

Not just because your mysterious dragon child was now nearly a teenager overnight, his voice deepening slightly, his presence too much for your small apartment—

But because Melis was starting to notice.

"You’ve been acting weird," she said over dinner, narrowing her eyes. "And why is the place so damn warm? Are you messing with the thermostat again?"

"I haven’t touched it" you lied smoothly, forcing a smile.

Neuvillette—he had given you his name the night before—was hidden in your room. But even then, you swore you could feel him listening.

Melis huffed. "And where’s all the food going? I just bought groceries, and half of it’s gone! I swear, if you’re sneaking in some loser boyfriend—"

"I’m not."

She leaned forward, glaring. "Then what the hell are you hiding?"

Before you could answer, a faint sound came from your bedroom.

Melis’s eyes snapped toward the door.

And then—she stood up.

Your heart stopped.

"What was that?"

She took a step forward.

"Nothing," you blurted out, moving to block her. "Just the wind. Or—"

Melis reached for the doorknob and it swung open on its own.

Neuvillette stood there.

Not as a child. Not even as a teenager.

But taller now. Older.

His horns had grown sharper. His eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, his pupils slit like a predator’s. He tilted his head, looking at Melis like she was something insignificant.

Something inhuman curled in his voice when he spoke:

"You should not be here."

Melis froze.

And for the first time since you had known her—

She looked afraid.

The morning felt strange.

You had woken up groggy, expecting to hear Melis grumbling about the bills, the temperature, or whatever new complaint she had for the day. But instead—silence.

It wasn’t until you shuffled into the kitchen that you noticed the note on the counter.

I’m leaving. Don’t bother looking for me.

The handwriting was hers.

It wasn’t that you’d miss her exactly. She had been exhausting, always watching you like you were one bad decision away from ruining your life. But… leaving without even saying anything? Without fighting first? That wasn’t like her.

You stared at the note a little longer. Something felt off.

But you had work. You didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The moment you left, Neuvillette stirred from where he had been lounging on the couch.

You had grown more comfortable with him—enough that you no longer questioned how much he had changed, or rather, how fast he had changed.

Your strange little friend was gone. It had been easy to remove them, even easier to mimic their writing. You hadn’t suspected a thing.

But… there was something missing.

Even as he sat there, waiting for your return, he felt restless. Hunger, but not for food.

For strength.

Something called to him beyond the walls of your home, something old and brimming with power. He followed it.

He hadn’t expected to find a dungeon.

The entrance was tucked away in the city, hidden beneath the ruins of an abandoned building. The air shimmered with faint, magical energy—ancient, untouched.

The moment he stepped inside, something stirred in the darkness.

A goblin—small, filthy, and sneering.

It laughed when it saw him.

"Hah! A lost little human?" It bared its crooked teeth. "You won’t last a second, boy—"

His claws tore through the creature’s throat before it could finish its sentence.

Warmth flooded his body, like a surge of raw energy. The moment the goblin died, something deep within him awakened. His strength sharpened, his magic expanded, and for the first time—

He understood.

This place was meant to be his.

One by one, the creatures fell.

They thought him weak. Human-like.

They were wrong.

Each battle only made him stronger. Magic pulsed beneath his skin, ancient and limitless. The dungeon itself seemed to acknowledge his strength, bending to his will as he carved his way to the top.

And when he reached the end, when the last beast knelt before him, trembling—

Neuvillette smiled.

He was no longer just an intruder here.

He was the ruler.

And when he returned to you, stepping through your front door like nothing had changed, he was stronger than you could ever imagine.

Dinner felt… strange.

You weren’t sure when it had started, but something about Neuvillette was different now.

It wasn’t just his appearance—though that was the most obvious. He looked fully grown, his body lean and strong, his movements refined. His silver hair was longer now, and his once-uncontrolled tail was nowhere to be seen, no horns, either.

If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he was entirely human.

You swallowed another bite of food, trying not to stare. He wasn’t looking at you anyway—just calmly sipping his drink, completely at ease.

"You work every day" he said suddenly.

"Yeah? That’s normal."

"And what do you do?"

That was an odd question. You had talked about work before, but maybe he was just curious.

"Nothing exciting. Just a regular office job." You shrugged. "It pays the bills."

"I see." His gaze lingered on you, thoughtful. "And the machine? Where did you find it?"

"Machine?"

"The one that brought me to you."

Oh. That machine.

You leaned back in your chair, thinking. "It was at a small convenience store near my office. It looked kind of old, like no one had used it in years. Why?"

"No reason."

You were deep asleep when he left.

The world outside was quiet, the streets bathed in the dim glow of streetlights.

Neuvillette moved silently, his presence blending seamlessly with the shadows as he arrived at the convenience store. The Lucky Egg Dispenser sat in the corner, just as you described.

From a glance, it seemed ordinary.

But when he raised a hand to feel its power, he felt nothing.

No energy. No magic. Just cold, lifeless metal.

His brows furrowed. But then-

A system board flickered to life in front of him, glowing with strange, shifting symbols.

[NAME: NEUVILLETTE] [RANK: ???] [LEVEL: 62] [TITLES: DUNGEON RULER, ???, ???]

So this was the truth behind his existence.

This machine wasn’t just luck. It was something more—something that had brought him to you for a reason.

But what was that reason?

The board flickered again, shifting—

And then, a new line of text appeared.

[NO ADDITIONAL EGGS AVAILABLE]

So… there wouldn’t be another.

There wouldn’t be another like him.

That meant one thing.

You were his.

And there would be no one else.

----

The whispers echoed.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry."

The voice was distant, layered with something ancient, something aching. It wasn’t just words—it was a feeling. A pull deep within his very being, like something forgotten was trying to resurface.

The darkness in his dream twisted—

He woke up. His body jolted upright, breath uneven, sweat clinging to his skin. His heart pounded, the lingering sensation of the voice still curling around his mind.

"Neuvillette?"

His head snapped toward you. You were sitting beside him, your brows furrowed in concern.

"Are you okay?"

You were here. That was all that mattered.

Forcing a smile, he wiped the sweat from his brow. "It was just a dream."

But deep down—he knew it was more than that.

----

Neuvillette had grown stronger, but it still wasn’t enough.

The moment you left for work, he sought more. More power, more understanding—more of what he was meant to become. He followed instinct, the same strange pull that had led him to the dungeon before.

But this time, it led him to water.

A large, secluded lake, untouched by the city's influence. The air here was heavier, richer with something old.

A creature surfaced. A strange otter, sleek and dark-eyed, watching him intently. The creature did not flee. It did not fear him. Instead, it gave a small chuff and turned, swimming toward the center of the lake.

Then—it dived and vanished.

Neuvillette stepped forward, the water lapping at his ankles. Then his knees. Then his waist—

Then, with a final step, he let himself sink.

The water welcomed him.

He found the ruins at the lake’s bottom, hidden beneath the shifting currents. Stone pillars jutted from the depths, covered in carvings that glowed faintly when his fingers traced them.

The moment he touched them, something awakened.

A pulse—deep, rushing power.

And then the water moved. It bent at his will, swirling around his arms, surging through his veins. He lifted a hand, and the currents obeyed. He pushed outward, and the lake trembled.

The sheer force of his ability sent a wave rolling across the surface—too large, too noticeable.

Figures stood on the shore now. He had revealed too much.

It was time to leave.

The house was quiet. Neuvillette sat, fresh from his bath, dressed in a loose white shirt and dark slacks. His hair was still damp, strands falling over his shoulders as he leaned back against the couch.

He was waiting. But the night stretched on, and you did not return.

Not until much later, the door creaked open.

You stumbled inside, your movements slow and unsteady, the unmistakable scent of alcohol clinging to you. Your pupils were blown, your gaze unfocused. Behind you, a man lingered in the doorway.

"Who—"

The man’s smile faltered. "Oh, uh—hey, didn’t know you had a roommate."

His hand was still on your waist.

"I’ll take them now."

The man hesitated, then forced a chuckle. "Come on, I was just—"

Neuvillette moved. Faster than the man could react, he wrenched you from his grasp, pulling you into his arms.

The man stepped back, startled. "Whoa—relax, man. I was just making sure they got home safe—"

"Leave."

"Tch. Whatever, dude." He turned, muttering under his breath as he left.

Neuvillette watched him go.

Then, once you were settled, breathing softly against his chest—

He followed.

The man was still muttering when Neuvillette found him.

He hadn’t gone far—only to the lake’s edge, kicking at the dirt, grumbling about “weird possessive freaks” and “wasted effort.”

He didn’t notice the water stirring.

Didn’t see the way the waves rose.

A sudden wave surging forward. The man barely had time to scream before it dragged him under.

Neuvillette stood at the shore, watching, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

The man thrashed.

Neuvillette lifted a hand.

The water tightened.

Bubbles surfaced, erratic at first—then fewer. Slower. Until, finally—

Nothing.

With a flick of his wrist, the water carried the body further—deep into the lake’s heart, where no one would find it.

At least, not until it was too late.

Three Days Later

"Did you hear?"

You paused mid-sip, blinking. "Hear what?"

Your coworker leaned in, lowering her voice. "They found a body. In the lake. Some guy—totally eaten up. They think he drowned a few days ago."

You set your cup down carefully. "That’s… awful."

"Yeah." She made a face. "I mean, what kind of freaking fish do we have in there?"

----

The weekend arrived with an unbearable heatwave. You had spent the afternoon outside, running errands beneath the scorching sun. By the time you got home, you were practically melting.

"Neuvillette, I’m back!" You called out as you kicked off your shoes, holding up the bag in your hands.

He emerged from the other room, his expression unreadable as always, but his gaze immediately flicked to what you were holding.

"Ice cream?"

You grinned, pulling out one of the containers. "Figured you'd like something cold. Want to try?"

Neuvillette took it carefully, staring at it as if it were something foreign. But after a small, experimental bite—his pupils dilated slightly.

"…It’s pleasant."

"That’s it? Just ‘pleasant’?"

He hummed, taking another bite, letting it melt slowly on his tongue. His expression remained composed, but you noticed the way he leaned ever so slightly into the sensation, as if savoring it more than he let on.

A rare sight.

You chuckled, opening your own and sitting beside him.

"Guess I’ll take that as a win."

It was later in the day when it happened.

You were standing. Walking. Moving through the house with no real thought, no resistance, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

There was something you needed to do.

Something important.

The bathroom door was open. Steam curled from within, the scent of fresh water pulling at you.

You stepped inside.

The moment your foot hit the tile— The trance broke.

You blinked, the haze lifting from your mind. Your breath hitched slightly as you realized you were standing in the doorway, fully clothed, about to step into a warm bath—with Neuvillette sitting in the tub.

His sleeves were rolled up, his silver hair cascading over his shoulders. He was waiting.

And he looked surprisingly unfazed.

"…What am I doing?" you muttered, shaking your head.

Neuvillette tilted his head slightly. "You wanted to shampoo my hair."

What?

"I… wanted to—" You stopped yourself.

That didn’t sound right. That didn’t even feel like something you had decided. But there was no sign of deception in his gaze, no indication that he was lying.

It was weird.

The heat had left you sluggish, and thinking too hard about it made your head hurt.

You exhaled, rubbing your temples. "…Whatever. Just—move over."

Neuvillette did, watching in quiet satisfaction as you stepped forward, kneeling beside the tub.

Your fingers combed through his hair, lathering the shampoo, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp. His lashes fluttered at the sensation.

You didn’t see the slight curve of his lips. Didn’t notice the way his fingers twitched—resisting the urge to pull you in completely.

----

Your office was always a mess of rushed deadlines and overworked employees. The company thrived on exploitation, squeezing everything it could from its workforce before discarding them like broken tools.

Today was no different.

"Did you see the latest report?" One of your coworkers, Kael, whispered as he slid into the seat beside you. His hands trembled slightly, holding a file.

You sighed, not even bothering to look up from your screen. "Which one? They dump a new crisis on us every hour."

"The dungeon." His voice lowered further. "The one that just appeared."

That caught your attention. You finally glanced at the report in his hands.

A massive fluctuation had been recorded at a previously empty lot on the outskirts of the city. A dungeon had emerged overnight, far more dangerous than expected. The first wave of hunters and warriors sent to clear it had suffered heavy casualties. The survivors reported unusual conditions—monsters that grew stronger after each battle, as if they were learning.

But the company didn't care. They just sent in more people.

"How many deaths so far?" you asked quietly.

Kael hesitated. "Too many."

You stared at the screen, unease curling in your stomach.

Something about this didn’t feel right.

Far beneath the dungeon’s surface, Neuvillette stood in the heart of his domain.

His gaze swept over the carnage left behind—the remnants of another failed attempt. Weapons lay shattered, armor broken, bodies scattered across the cold stone.

He stepped forward.

The air hummed around him, the essence of the fallen swirling into his being.

Another level gained.

"Foolish," he murmured. "They send their people to die… yet they do not realize they are only feeding me."

He exhaled slowly, his body adjusting to the newfound strength.

He was still growing.

And soon—

He would be unstoppable.

----

You barely made it through the front door.

Every muscle in your body ached, exhaustion settling into your bones like lead. You dropped your bag, kicking off your shoes with little care as you stumbled further inside.

The damn company had kept you overnight. Again.

Piling up more work, more pressure, more demands—until you were left wrung out and barely functioning. You were too tired to even be angry. All you wanted was sleep.

"You're late."

You managed a weak chuckle. "Tell that to my boss."

He stood near the couch, arms crossed, gaze sweeping over your disheveled form. You could feel his displeasure—palpable, simmering. But before you could say anything, he stepped forward, placing a hand on your forehead.

Warmth—no, energy—seeped into you, flowing through every aching limb, easing the tension in your body. It was like stepping into cool water after burning under the sun.

You barely had time to register what he’d done before sleep pulled you under.

Neuvillette watched as you finally rested. Your breathing was slow, steady, free of the exhaustion that had plagued you moments ago.

How many times had they done this to you?

How many times had you come home like this—drained, miserable, struggling just to stay upright?

"This world does not deserve you"

If it was unworthy of your existence—if it continued to break you down—

Then he would rebuild it.

Piece by piece.

A second dungeon appeared—then a third, then dozens more, blooming across the city like festering wounds. What was once a rare phenomenon became unstoppable, warping the landscape into a nightmarish battleground.

From the depths of each dungeon, Neuvillette’s forces emerged.

Creatures of the abyss—twisted beasts, eldritch horrors, dragons that roared with primordial fury. They poured into the streets, overwhelming police, military, and the so-called “heroes” who thought they could reclaim what had already been lost.

The city fell apart within days.

And through it all—Neuvillette watched from above, his eyes as cold and endless as the ocean’s depths.

The world had tried to break you.

Now it was his turn to break the world.

---

You woke up in a different place.

The suffocating weight of exhaustion was gone, but something felt off. The air smelled of rain, fresh and crisp, yet there was an eerie silence outside.

You sat up.

The room was luxurious, but unfamiliar. You swung your legs over the bed—only for the door to open before you could take a step.

"You're awake."

"Where… are we?"

"The outside world is no longer of concern to you. This is our home."

No longer of concern?

You moved toward the window—only to feel an invisible force halt you mid-step.

"There’s no need to leave," Neuvillette murmured. "Everything out there is beneath you now. You only need me."

His fingers brushed against your cheek.

"And I will never let them take you from me again."

"Neuvillette, stop this."

Your voice was firm, but your hands trembled as you pushed against his chest.

"I don’t need protection. I don’t need you to tear everything apart for me. I’m okay."

"Okay?" he echoed, as if the word was foreign to him. His hands trailed up your arms, "You were never okay. They drained you. Used you. You just didn’t realize it."

You shook your head, frustration building. "Even if that’s true, it doesn’t mean you get to decide for me!"

He sighed.

"You don’t have to decide anymore."

Before you could react, his hand cupped the side of your neck—then he bit down.

A sharp sting bloomed where his teeth sank into your skin. You gasped out of pain, but he didn’t let go—not until he was certain his mark was there to stay.

When he pulled back, his lips were tinted red.

"Now, even if you run…" He brushed a thumb over the wound, smearing the blood. "I will always find you."

Your vision swam, the pain dulling into something hazy, sluggish. He was doing something.

"Sleep" he whispered. "It’ll hurt less that way."

Your body betrayed you before your mind could protest, the exhaustion swallowing you whole.

Even in sleep, you weren’t safe.

Soft lips traced the curve of your throat, pressing lingering kisses against your skin. The warmth of his mouth sent shivers through your unconscious body, his breath hot against each fresh mark he left.

His hands moved with deliberate reverence, tracing the shape of your collarbone, your shoulders, the delicate lines of your pulse.

"Mine" he murmured between each press of his lips.

[sunni-stuff]

Adira and Mama have always celebrated valentines together. And now we have Simon, who in addition to wanting to create a connection with Adira, he also wants to recreate that "love" with Mom. So, this Valentine's Day, Simon and Adira team up to give Mom a wonderful gift!

Valentine’s Day.  

The holiday where people got all sappy, handed out cards, and smothered their significant others with roses and kisses. The streets would be painted in shades of red and pink, filled with the bustling energy of couples trying to outdo each other with grand romantic gestures. 

But for you, Valentine’s Day had always been about something else. Since Adira was born, it became a tradition to celebrate the love of your life in your own way. You didn’t need a partner to make the day meaningful; you had her. Every year, you’d gift her a small box of her favorite chocolates—indulgent, sweet pieces she’d greedily munch on, leaving her cheeks smeared with chocolate and her gummy grin brighter than the sun.  

You couldn’t help but remember the memory of how Adira’s love affair with that brand of chocolate started. Godiva Gold Collection—an unnecessarily expensive, fancy brand that had somehow become her favorite. You still had the box that started it all, tucked away in the closet of keepsakes, its shiny gold lid a time capsule of an unexpected moment from your early days at the daycare.

It was your first Valentine’s Day as an assistant, back before you had your own class. You’d been trying to keep a low profile, just another cog in the machine, but one of the dads had made that impossible. For weeks, he’d been flirting with you, persistent in a way that made you roll your eyes more than blush. Day in and day out, he’d linger a little too long during drop-offs or pick-ups, throwing out compliments like confetti. It was harmless enough, but you never entertained it beyond polite smiles.  

That Valentine’s Day, though, he decided to up the ante. Strolling in with his daughter on one arm and an elaborate, glittering box of chocolates in the other, he sauntered over to you with the confidence of a man who thought he’d already won.  

“I thought you might like these,” he said, handing you the Godiva box with a grin that was probably meant to be charming but mostly came off smug. “Figured you deserved a little something for always being so amazing.”  

You took the box graciously, murmuring a polite thank-you. And that’s when the moment turned unexpectedly sweet.  

Before you could even process the interaction, a tiny figure toddled into the room—Adira, barely one year old, her chubby legs carrying her as fast as they could toward you. Her little hand stretched up, fingers opening and closing in that unmistakable signal: I want.  

You smiled at her, heart melting as it always did. “Of course, little fox,” you murmured, placing the box carefully in her hands. She hugged it to her chest with the kind of pure joy that only a child could muster, her little fingers already fumbling with the lid.

The dad’s confident grin faltered as he watched the scene unfold. His brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait… You give chocolate to all the kids here? Isn’t that, uh, bad for them?” He gestured awkwardly toward Adira, who had now plopped herself onto the floor, fully engrossed in her mission to open the box.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood back up. “No, I don’t give chocolate to all the kids,” you said, your tone gentle but firm. “Adira’s mine.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you watched as the realization dawned on him. His eyes widened, darting between you and Adira as if trying to piece together a puzzle he hadn’t even realized was in front of him.

“She’s… yours?” he asked, incredulous.

You nodded, glancing down at Adira, who had successfully pried the box open and was now holding a truffle in her tiny hands like it was a treasure. “Yep. My daughter,” you said, pride evident in your voice. “She’s the reason I started working here, actually. Thought it’d be a good way to balance work and being there for her.”

The man’s face turned an odd shade of red, and you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. He had assumed, just like so many others, that you were childless and ready to play along with his flirtations. But you weren’t. And that, in some small way, felt like a victory.

“Oh. Wow. I didn’t realize,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I, uh, thought you were single. And… you know, childless.”

“Nope,” you said with a small laugh. “Very much a mom.”

He began backing toward the door with an apologetic smile. “Right, well… I should get going. My daughter’s probably waiting for me. Happy Valentine’s Day!” And just like that, he was gone.

Wasn't he holding his daughter?

His swift retreat had you chuckling even as you turned your attention back to Adira, who was now blissfully munching on her stolen treasure. She looked up at you, her grin wide and sticky, chocolate clinging to her growing pearly whites.

“Yum!” she declared, holding up another piece as if offering it to you.

Now, every Valentine’s Day, when you handed her a new box, she’d squeal with glee, just like she did when she was a baby. And every time, it reminded you why you didn’t need flowers, cards, or romantic gestures to make the day special.

Adira was your Valentine. She always had been, and she always would be.

Valentine’s Day had arrived once again, painting the streets with an abundance of roses, teddy bears, and couples hand in hand. The air was charged with the energy of love—or at least, that’s how the advertisements made it seem.

For you, it was a different story. As a single parent, Valentine's Day didn’t come with the same excitement. Instead, it was a quiet reminder of the love you shared with Adira—the kind of love that didn't need gifts or fancy dinners. You had your own little celebration planned with her at home, but first, there was work.

The daycare was closing early that day, giving most of the staff the chance to spend time with their partners. But for the rest of you—those without a special someone—it was business as usual. The meeting, something about the upcoming budgets for the year, was mandatory.

As you wrapped up your workday, you felt a twinge of guilt. Adira wouldn’t have the patience to wait while you sat through the meeting. She never did, and today wasn’t going to be any different. So, in a bit of a spur-of-the-moment decision, you called Simon. He was more than happy to help, even though the idea of being with Adira all afternoon seemed like a challenge. Still, he was eager to do what he could, giving you time to get through the meeting without worrying.

Unbeknownst to you, your apartment was currently in a state of complete disarray.

It all started when Simon, while rummaging through the pantry for snacks, stumbled upon a familiar gold box tucked in the corner. He didn’t know why the sight of the Godiva box stirred something in him, but it did. For a split second, his mind conjured up the idea that you had someone special—someone who’d given you the overpriced chocolate. His stomach twisted at the thought.

Why did that bother him? It wasn’t like he had any claim over you. You were just co-parenting. But still, the idea of some other guy swooping in and winning you over with fancy chocolates rubbed him the wrong way.

The thought simmered in the back of his mind until he turned to Adira, who was running around, triumphantly waving around her Barbie head like a trophy . An idea formed, one that made the edges of his frown soften into something more determined.

“How about we make your mom something special?” he proposed, crouching down to her level.

Adira’s eyes lit up, her face brightening with an enthusiastic grin. “Yeah! Special for Mommy!” She bounced to her feet, already brimming with elation.

“Alright, lass,” he said, ruffling her hair. “We’ll need a plan. Let’s get to work.”

By the time thirty minutes had passed, your apartment was barely recognizable. Flour dusted nearly every surface, glitter and scraps of colorful paper were strewn across the living room, and the faint smell of something slightly burnt wafted from the kitchen. Simon was in over his head.

He had underestimated two things: the sheer mess a three-year-old could create when left unchecked and the complexity of trying to bake cookies with said three-year-old as his assistant.

His phone laid on the counter, a lifeline to Gaz, who had graciously agreed to walk him through baking cookies. "Alright, I’ve got the dough… I think. What’s next?” he asked, glancing at the slightly lumpy mixture in the bowl.

On the other end of the line, Gaz chuckled. “Mate, it shouldn’t look like that. Did you actually measure the ingredients, or did you just eyeball it?”

Simon huffed, frustration bubbling as he wiped a streak of flour off his cheek. “I followed the recipe! Mostly. Adira added her own… interpretations.”

As if on cue, Adira, perched on a stool beside him, giggled mischievously, her tiny hands gripping the now-empty container of sprinkles. She enthusiastically dumped half of it into the bowl, sending a white puff into the air. She giggled uncontrollably as flour settled into her hair, making her look like a tiny ghost.

“Looks funny!” she declared, wiping her flour-dusted hands on his sleeve.

Simon groaned, but he couldn’t suppress the chuckle that followed. “Yeah, you look like you’ve been rolling around in snow.” Glancing at the concoction they were making, pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself, “This is a disaster.”

“Oi, it’s not a disaster,” Gaz chimed in, his voice crackling slightly through the speaker. “You’ve just got… a creative helper. Roll with it. Kids love messy projects.”

As they moved on to rolling out the dough, Adira decided to take charge of the cookie cutters. She pressed them into the dough with all the strength her tiny hands could muster, creating wobbly fox shapes that were more abstract than symmetrical. “For Mommy!” she declared with each press, her little voice full of pride.

Simon’s heart softened at her excitement. Despite the chaos, she was having the time of her life, and he couldn’t deny that it was… fun, in a strange, messy sort of way.

“Alright, Gaz,” Simon said, propping the phone closer to his ear as he picked up a cookie sheet. “What temperature do I need to set the oven at?”

“Preheat it to 350. And keep an eye on those cookies—you don’t want them to burn.”

“Got it,” Simon replied, sliding the tray into the oven.

While the cookies were “baking” (a generous term for the mess he’d shoved into the oven), Simon pulled out some paper, markers, and glitter he’d found in your supply cabinet. Adira jumped in eagerly, grabbing a red marker to scribble a heart on a piece of paper.

“Mommy likes red,” she informed him with absolute certainty, her tongue poking out in concentration as she drew wobbly shapes.

“Aye, red it is,” Simon agreed, his own hands now dusted with glitter as he helped her glue a few sparkly hearts onto the card. “We’ll make it the prettiest card she’s ever seen.”

By the time the cookies were done, the kitchen was a disaster zone, glitter was everywhere, and Simon had flour smeared across his cheek. Adira was thrilled, though, holding up her homemade card with pride.

Simon pulled the cookies out of the oven, sighing in relief when they actually looked halfway decent. Adira gasped in delight, clapping her flour-dusted hands together.

“They’re perfect,” she declared, though one cookie was clearly missing a chunk where she’d snuck a bite of the dough earlier.

Simon chuckled, ruffling her hair. “You’re right, they’re perfect.”

By the time you got home, the chaos was still evident—scraps of paper littered the floor, flour smudged on the counters, and a sticky trail of frosting led to the living room. But in the middle of it all were Simon and Adira, sitting at the table with the slightly wonky cookies and a handmade card, waiting for you with proud grins on their faces.

"Happy Valentine’s Day, Mommy!” Adira exclaimed, jumping up to present you with her card.

Your heart melted at the sight, the mess fading into the background as you took in the scene before you. This wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was perfect.

Your voice caught in your throat as you held up the card Adira had made. The inside was adorned with little foxes, and the words scribbled across the page were a mix of Simon’s careful handwriting and Adira’s wobbly, childlike scrawl. The sentence read: “Call me Swiper because I’ve stolen your heart.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your chest tightening at the sight of it. The card was so simple, yet so heartfelt. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered love from the two people who had, in their own way, quietly wormed their way into your heart.

"You guys did all this…?" Your voice a little shaky, as you looked from the card to Simon and Adira, who were both sitting proudly at the table. Simon had flour on his cheek, and Adira’s face was a picture of joy, her hands covered in frosting and sprinkles. It was clear they’d both put their all into this little surprise.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin on his face as he shrugged. “Well, Adira here had the idea. I just... tried not to burn the cookies.”

Adira giggled, holding up one of the cookies as if it were a trophy. It was slightly misshapen, with sprinkles all over it, but it didn’t matter. It was perfect in its imperfection. “Mommy, for you!” she exclaimed, her voice full of pride.

Your eyes softened, your heart swelling with love and something else you couldn’t quite place—appreciation, gratitude, maybe even a little awe. The moment was small, yet so significant.

“Thank you, Adira,” you whispered softly, your heart swelling as you knelt down to scoop her up into a hug. She squirmed in your arms, giggling as she wrapped her tiny arms around your neck, her little fingers gripping your hair with an uncoordinated but tender affection.

Simon stood back, watching the two of you with a quiet smile. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face was enough. He was content, knowing he’d been part of this moment.

“This is the best Valentine’s Day gift ever,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple as she squished her cheek against yours, still grinning ear to ear.

Simon hesitated for a moment, a twinge of uncertainty crossing his face as he stood there watching the tender scene. He knew he wasn’t quite there yet, not in the way you and Adira had been all this time. He was a part of this moment, but he still wasn’t sure exactly where he fit in. His eyes flickered between you, your outstretched arms, and the small bundle of joy that was his daughter, so full of love and happiness—it made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t ignore.

But then, your words cut through the haze of his hesitation. "Why are you just standing there?"

You were smiling, the playful hint of a challenge in your eyes, but there was something more in your voice too—an invitation. You didn’t have to say anything else; it was in the way you held out your arms, in the way you pulled him in with your gaze.

Simon took a slow, steadying breath, his heart beating a little faster. He moved forward, tentative at first, before lowering himself to kneel beside you both. Adira giggled as he wrapped his arms around the two of you, her laughter echoing in the warm air of the apartment. He wasn’t just trying to fit into a place anymore. He carved one out for himself—right there, with you and Adira. And that, more than anything, felt like home.

It wasn’t the romantic, picture-perfect Valentine’s Day you’d imagined in the past, but it was better. It was real. It was messy, sweet, and full of love. The kind of love that came in small, beautiful moments like these.

And for the first time in a long while, you realized that maybe this was exactly how it was supposed to be.

A/N: I just wanna say rq, I appreciate the love AND to the anon who sent this, your brain needs to be kissed. I said I wasn't gonna do long fics as often but this was too juicy to pass up. Thank you!

ALSO, pls yall don't have to send me asks to be on the taglist! If you comment I'll add u!

TAGLIST: @pipedream411 @ficcharsimp009 @frogofrg @loonagabs @lunamoonbby @vixenshiftsvrs @devoetee @shorty-tolentino @aethelwyneleigh27 @ayesha-eroticax3 @julesjuminos @tacticalgirlboss @teenagellamaangel @gifted-aurora @awildewit @emilia527 @danielle143 @maniacalbooper @t3a-bag @sockertop @arrozyfrijoles23 @azaleapeachberry @terry2227 @rip-cod-brainrot @montenegroisr @sweetheartturtle2007 @hepprine @kodokunarisu-blog

[peachyhalstead]

married man | j. halstead

request:Can you do a Jay Halstead x Reader. They are both married and have a child together. The child just started pre-k or kindergarten and since the reader is heavily pregnant Jay has been dropping off and picking up their kid. And maybe like the single moms are flirting with Jay since they think he might be a single dad but they get surprised when the reader picks the kid one day after giving birth.

pairing: established (married) fem!reader x jay halstead

word count: 1.75k

warnings: none??

a/n: dad!jay dad!jay dad!jay !!!!! they have a little boy (his name is dylan) and a newborn girlie (what should her name be)

------

Grumbling as the alarm went off, you blindly reached over and whacked Jay on the chest. “Why’s it have to be so loud?”

Jay chuckled, silencing his phone’s alarm. “It’s not even that loud, babe.”

You glared at him through narrow eyes. “If I wasn’t about to pop right now I’d give you a piece of my mind.”

Letting out a hearty laugh, Jay got out of bed and folded his portion of the comforter back up, trapping the heat for you. “Only a few more weeks, babe. Then you’ll be able to move without having to pee every two seconds.”

You slowly followed Jay, yawning and rubbing the nine-month bump as you headed into the kitchen to package your son’s lunch.

He had recently started kindergarten, and loved telling you and Jay about all his escapades with his classmates as he learned different things.

“I could’ve done that, you didn’t have to get up.” Jay said, popping a capsule into the coffee machine and starting it.

Shrugging, you zipped the lunchbox closed and set it next to the matching blue backpack, one hand going to rub at the sore spot on your back. “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to fall back to sleep.”

Jay noticed, and his hands slowly made their way to the exact spot that bothered you in your first pregnancy. “Who do you thinks going to ask me out today, hm?”

Laughing softly, you clicked your tongue at Jay. “You really enjoy that, don’t you? Miss getting hit on?”

Jay shook his head. “Don’t miss it one bit. Just enjoy seeing those soccer moms think their whispers are quiet.”

A few weeks ago Jay had mentioned that some of the moms at drop-off had been talking about Jay, commenting on his lack of wedding band and no significant other ever at drop off or pick up.

“Momma, when will you go to school with me?” Dylan asked, your son finally making his appearance in his pajamas.

“Soon, little bug. Once Little Sister is here, I’ll drop you off with Daddy some days.”

Dylan frowned. “Can Sissy come now?”

You huffed, wanting nothing more than to deliver the weight that seemed to be constantly on your bladder. “I wish, but I think she needs a few more weeks.”

Jay smiled into his coffee cup, phone chiming with a text from Hailey. “Come on, Dyl. Let’s get dressed so you can show your friends your new shoes.”

Dylan beamed at the thought, and followed Jay back to his room, leaving you alone in the warm kitchen. The aroma of coffee lingered as you found a chair to rest in, hand absently tracing circles over your distended belly.

A sigh of contentment escaped you; this was your world, and despite the groggy mornings and occasional aggravations - like trying to convince Dylan to brush his teeth properly - you wouldn’t change it for anything else. That was the beauty of family - it wasn’t always perfect, but it was yours. And that made all the imperfections precious in their own odd way.

The sound of Jay's voice pulled you from your thoughts as he asked Dylan to choose between two shirts. You smiled, knowing how seriously your little boy took these morning decisions. Sipping on some water and slowly standing up, you decided to start breakfast.

The scent of eggs and bacon soon filled the room, joining the still lingering coffee aroma. Dylan would be excited; he loved his simple morning breakfasts. As you were flipping an egg, Jay returned with Dylan in tow. Their matching grins caught your eye.

“What are you two up to?” You questioned playfully, adjusting your hold on your bump.

“Nothing,” they both chimed in unison, their grins growing even wider.

“Okay,” you drew out the first syllable, grabbing a plate and moving the eggs for Dylan to eat, blowing on them as you cut them into pieces.

“Eat, then Daddy will bring you to school.” You smiled, cracking a few more eggs and grabbing a tortilla and the toppings you knew Jay liked, quickly making a breakfast wrap for him.

Wrapping it in foil, you smiled to yourself as you heard Jay helping Dylan put on his sneakers.

“Ok, we gotta go, Little Man! Go give Momma a kiss.”

Dylan skipped over to you, wrapping his little arms around your legs, promising you he’d come home with a drawing to put in the nursery.

Thanking him, you smiled at Jay as he grabbed the wrap and his badge, stopping to press a kiss to your forehead. “Take it easy today, babe.”

“I will. Go break hearts and catch perps, Jay.”

——

Jay hid his eye roll as he followed Dylan to the drop off location, ignoring the looks from the few single mothers nearby.

“I mean, who in their right mind wouldn’t grab that ass? He’s such a good dad, too.”

Jay overheard one of the mothers and shook his head, stifling a laugh. He still found it amusing and somewhat flattering to know that he was the topic of their little gossip circle. But he also knew firmly where his heart lay - at home with you and Dylan, and soon, your new little girl.

As Dylan scampered off towards his classroom, he turned to Jay with a big grin. "Daddy, do you think I can tell Mrs. Johnson about Sissy coming soon?"

Jay bent down to his level, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Of course, buddy. I'm sure she will be thrilled to hear it."

At that moment, a pair of giggling women walked by, shooting him suggestive glances over their shoulders. He merely smiled politely before turning away.

Arriving back at the car, Jay pulled out his phone and saw a text from you: Feeling better now that the house is empty. How did drop off go?

He quickly typed back: Smooth as always. He's telling all his teachers about his soon-to-be little sister.

Satisfied, he started the vehicle and headed towards the precinct. His phone chimed again with your response: That's my boy! Take care at work, Jay.

He chuckled as he imagined you grinning at your phone, feet kicked up on the coffee table even though you often chided him for doing the same thing.

——

The routine didn’t shift for the next few weeks, but the gossiping mothers were surprised when Dylan was dropped off by Will one day, Jay at the hospital where you were currently resting with the newest addition to the family.

“Uncle Will, can we see Momma and Sissy after school?” Dylan asked, tugging on his uncle’s hand.

"Of course, buddy," Will replied with a soft smile, watching as Dylan's face lit up with joy. "I bet they can't wait to see you."

Once Dylan scampered off towards his classroom, Will indulged in a moment of silence. He was used to the emergency room's relentless noise and bustle, so the unfamiliar hush of the school yard in the early morning was a welcome respite. A group of mothers were huddled together, shooting glances his way. Perhaps he was becoming part of their gossip routine now too - he silently hoped otherwise.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Jay could barely tear his gaze away from you sleeping peacefully, the tiny bundle in his arms a testament to your strength and love. His heart swelled in his chest at the sight; you looked more beautiful than ever, your face radiating an exhausted but blissful glow as your daughter, their daughter, clung onto his finger with her small hand.

Just then, she stirred awake and let out a soft whimper which turned into a loud wail. He quickly got up and started to gently rock her, not wanting her cries to disturb your much-needed rest.

“Hey there, little princess,” he cooed softly as he bounced her gently in his arms. “Let’s not wake Mommy up now.”

After a few minutes of gentle rocking and hushed lullabies - Jay trying his best to remember the ones you sung to Dylan when he was an infant, the baby quieted down, blue eyes peering up at her father.

“Hi, munchkin. You already have half of Chicago’s first responders wrapped around your finger.” He whispered, soft smile at his lips as he thought back to the replies from his team when he sent the photo of the baby in the group chat.

"The other half is itching to meet you. Just wait until Uncle Will gets a hold of you. You're going to be spoiled rotten." He laughed softly, mindlessly tracing a finger over his daughter's tiny forehead.

His phone buzzed where he had left it on the bedside table. It was a message from Will letting him know that Dylan had been dropped off at school and asking if they could come by after school to see the baby.

Jay's heart swelled, even more, knowing his son was equally excited about his little sister's arrival. Jay quickly typed a response, assuring Will they would be more than happy to have visitors later in the day.

——

The day passed in a flurry of nurses checking vitals and bringing meals, phone calls from family and friends, and quiet moments spent marveling over their newest addition. Dylan was bursting with energy when Will brought him by after school, his wide eyes taking in everything with an infectious excitement that had everyone in the room smiling.

"Momma, Sissy is really small!" Dylan whispered in awe as he approached the bed, carefully peering over the edge of the bassinet.

You chuckled at his innocent observation as Jay helped him climb up onto the bed to get a better look. "Yes, she is," you agreed with a fond smile. "You were that small, too, Little Man!”

Dylan looked at you with wide eyes, shaking his head. “Nuh-uh!”

“Mhmm!” You replied, fixing his shirt as he squirmed to get another look at his sister.

“When can you and Sissy come to school?” He asked, looking at you.

Jay laughed quietly, and you looked at your husband. “Soon, Dyl.”

——

Two weeks later, you consoled the crying baby as Jay helped Dylan put his backpack on. “Can Sissy come meet Mrs. Johnson?”

Shaking your head, you carefully strapped the little girl into her carrier, softly rubbing her cheek. “Not yet. Maybe during the spring concert, but she’s still too little.”

Jay stood up and grabbed his keys. “She can help Momma and Daddy drop you off, though. That sound good?”

Dylan’s face lit up at the thought. “Yeah! Everyone will get to see her!” He jumped excitedly before Jay guided him out the door.

Satisfied with your successful early morning, you carried the baby carrier to the car and buckled it in securely at the back seat. Moving around was still a little tough for you but you were slowly getting the hang of things. You climbed into the passenger side, glancing back at Dylan who was squirming in his seat with anticipation.

The drive to the school was filled with Dylan's non-stop chatter about what he was going to show his little sister. Jay had a soft smile on his face as he listened to his son, occasionally glancing at you in admiration and shared joy.

Once they arrived in front of the school, Dylan unbuckled himself and carefully opened your car door for you. “Be careful, Momma!” He cautioned, making Jay chuckle as he followed behind with his son’s backpack.

You smiled, letting Jay go ahead with Dylan so he wasn’t late, working to unstrap your daughter’s carrier so Dylan could see her one last time before he was in school.

“Jay, haven’t seen you the last few days. Is everything okay?” One of the mothers who had tried to hit on Jay asked, faux worry on her face.

Jay wore a smile as he turned to the woman, Dylan's hand tucked safely in his own as they made their way toward the school entrance. "Yeah, everything’s great, actually. My wife just gave birth to our second child," he responded casually, nodding his head towards the car where you were carefully lifting the baby carrier.

The woman blinked in surprise before offering a tight-lipped smile, "Oh, I didn’t know... congratulations."

"Thanks," Jay replied with a nod before turning his attention back to Dylan whose bundle of excitement was barely contained. As Jay opened the door for him to enter he looked into the bright eyes of his son and smiled reassuringly, "You ready?"

Dylan nodded eagerly, already tugging on his father's hand to drag him inside. Jay followed docilely, striding up the hallway towards Dylan's classroom.

Meanwhile, you were still out by the car, struggling slightly with the baby carrier that seemed to weigh even more than your now two-week-old daughter. A few mothers noticed and stepped forward to help you, their faces lighting up at the sight of the infant bundled up against the cold.

"Oh she's absolutely adorable!" One woman cooed, and you recognized her from when Jay was telling you how one of them started to wear low-cut tops after he started doing drop off duty.

You walked with them to the doors, smile brightening when you saw Jay and Dylan at the door, the young boy wanting to say goodbye to his sister.

“Bye, Sissy! Bye, Momma!” Dylan smiled, giving his sister a kiss and hugging your legs, unaware that his farewells caused the mothers who had walked with you to gasp lightly.

Jay’s smile widened at Dylan's display of affection, ruffling his son's hair gently, "Alright, champ. We’ll pick you up later. Have a great day at school."

Dylan nodded eagerly before disappearing into the bustling school building with his teacher. The remaining mothers turned to you, their surprised expressions replaced by warm, slender smiles as they admired your little girl.

Back in the car, you laughed as Jay started the ignition. “Think I felt the daggers from some of the moms when they found out you’re married.”

Jay snorted, turning back to the road to your house. “Well, that or when they found out we have great sex. Either way, watch your back, babe.”

You gawked at Jay’s remark, hitting him in the chest. “Jay! Your daughter is listening!”

“Oh, she’ll hear worse when Ruz babysits her." ------ a/n: send requests if you wanna!!

[tangyneon]

inky, tawny, teddy!

Your tastes might be ridiculous... but Gojo's weakness for you?

Now, that's a whole new level of ridiculous.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader tags: teen!gojo; teen!reader; tooth-rotting fluff; humor; gojo and you have been engaged since childhood because of an agreement between his clan and yours; neither of you really knows what that means now; pining looks so cute on gojo; denial too looks good on him; vaguely unestablished relationship; vaguely long-distance relationship; word count—895. warnings: none. this is a sequel of sorts to 'lychee pops!', but please feel free to treat it as a stand-alone if you wanna!! notes: many people asked me to write more for these two, so here it is, my loves!! hope you'll enjoy reading this, babes!! ❤️❤️

It's 10:30 at night, and Gojo Satoru finds himself standing in front of a vending machine.

But not for a snack, nor for canned coffee, and certainly not for that disgusting hot corn soup Shoko loves to sip, as if it isn't some crime against humanity.

No—this is the kind of machine that feels like it should be in a forgotten corner of a forgotten festival. Or maybe in one of the small shops that sell foolish knickknacks—things people don't really need, but they buy anyway.

Lit up by a single neon light—flickering, at that—the machine hums. Gojo feels a chilly breeze rush through the alley, sending a shiver up his spine and lifting his hair a bit. The night smells of rain on asphalt, of exhaust and smoke, of city life and its restless hubbub.

All the while, the boy—who should technically be asleep in his dorm right now; who could be anywhere else in this large, loud city—stays standing before the vending machine. Staring at the capsules filled with cheap things, idiotic things, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets and his mouth tugged down into a frown that is not quite a frown anymore.

This is stupid, he tells himself. Very, very stupid.

And yet, he stays right there.

He lets his eyes scan the chart of little plastic prizes—frogs, hearts, cats, stars—until something catches his eye.

A tiny teddy bear keychain.

White as snow, with round ears, stubby arms, and two black bead eyes that somehow seem to be staring right back at him.

Oh, wow, he thinks dryly.

Because the second he sees it, he thinks of you. His mind goes to the way you'd tilt your head, smiling softly because it'd remind you of the teddy bear you lost when you were a tiny kid. Even without you here, Gojo can already picture your fingers wiggling in that ridiculous little wave, a silent "I want it".

You would lose it over this thing.

The thought makes his lips twitch. Only a bit. Before he heaves a sigh as though he is being forced into something painful—even though no one is watching, and nobody is making him do it.

Nearly reluctantly, he digs a handful of coins from his pocket, then feeds them into the machine one by one—carefully listening to each sharp clink of metal—as if he is paying some kind of penance, eager for it to be over.

Soon enough, the coins are gone. And the capsule drops with a light, hollow, echoing thunk. He sighs again, then squats, pops it open and lifts the keychain by its thin gold chain.

It looks even stupider up close—this tiny white bear, dangling in the air, catching the glow of the neon light above.

Gojo stares at it for a moment.

Then—only because he feels the need to, for some reason—he mutters under his breath, "You better love this, dummy."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Gojo wraps it up the next morning.

He's not any good at this kind of thing, though. But then again, it isn't like you are either, so he does not really care—not that the boy would have cared, were you good.

He simply scrounges up a bleak envelope, shoves the keychain inside with a bit of tissue he finds at the bottom of Geto's bag, then studies it. He grimaces, then adds a folded scrap of paper.

don't get weird about it. just saw it and thought of you. it's stupid—just like you.

Sealing it, he scrawls your name and the address of your clan's estate on the front in messy handwriting, then goes to drop it off in a nearby red post box before he can change his mind.

And then—well, Gojo heads to his classes and forgets about it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Gojo does not actually forget about it.

He thinks about it, all day and all evening—until the moment he is sitting down with his dinner, and his phone buzzes in his pocket.

Half-eager, and half-ready to feign distraction and indifference, the boy flips it open—then pauses.

Your face fills his phone's screen—you and your bright grin, your shining eyes, and the tiny bear you're holding up beside you. As if it has made your entire day. As if it is already the most precious thing you own.

Gojo just stares at the photo.

For one beat. For two beats. Maybe for a whole minute—he is not sure, nor particularly bothered, truth be told.

His thumb hovers over the keys. He wonders if he should send back some smart remark. Or a joke.

Eventually, Gojo moves his thumb away, finding himself smiling—not his usual wide, mischievous ones, but something smaller. Maybe even realer. The kind of smile that sneaks up on the boy, softening his whole face without him meaning it to.

"Ridiculous," he mutters—but the word comes out unbearably fond, more a soft little laugh than a complaint.

He stares at the bear's dumb face for a second more. Then, shaking his head, he slides his phone back into his pocket, and leans back in his seat, eyes drifting to the inky sky outside the window.

Wondering already—already—what he can send you next.

Because if this is what it takes to see you smile so brightly from so many kilometres away, Gojo reckons he'll buy out the whole stupid vending machine next time.

© tangyneon 2025 || please don't plagiarise, translate or repost this || characters used here aren't mine || header is from pinterest || masterlist.

[kyupidu]

Hello!!! Can I have a yandere twisted Astro mayhaps?? :0 or just twisted Astro if youre more comfortable, headcanon or oneshot, its up to you!! Either way thank you and I hope u have a nice day/night :)

● Forever in his arms.

Yandere!Astro x toon!reader

Warnings: Yandere, Asphyxiation, Delusions, forced affection, astro is abit mean in the first half

Notes: This is my first yandere fic it might not be the best sorry! but i hope you enjoy reading! also i couldnt get the images to work so i just didnt add them..

A smile would grace your face as you finished your fourth machine, two more to go! This was your last floor till you were able to finally go back up. You snickered abit at the thought of being able to brag about how to gotten to such a high floor all by yourself AND finally being able to sleep.

Venturing off to find your second to last machine, noticing a twisted Cosmo approaching you quickly hid behind two boxes and a shelf. Sitting there for abit you peeked to see if Cosmo was gone. This caused you to fail to notice a certain sleepy twisted approaching you.

Closing your eyes and sighing thinking that the coast is clear, you twirled around just to be grabbed by the throat at slammed against the wall. Your head would hurt as you writhed trying to escape its grasp though Astro being the stronger one was unphased by your attempts.

Thrashing and kicking and yelling you grasped the hand around your neck and pulled on it hoping his grip would lighten. Your panic filled eyes would meet tearful ones, recognizing them. tears gathered in your eyes you choked out "S-Stop! Stop Astro!" you pleaded so fearful you forgot that this wasn't your friend.

Hearing this put a thought in his ichor fogged head making him remember.. something. Although he could slightly remember it. You had stopped him with a worried look in your face , although he couldn't remember anymore than that. What he did know is remembering it made him feel.. something.

He felt warm.. warm like... a hug.. -wait a hug? This thought caused a picture to finally resurface, of you hugging him. This made his hand loosen and fall to his side. You fell to the ground and scrambled to catch your breath.

As your breathing somewhat calmed you quickly got up and ran. This would cause him to come back to his senses. No.. you couldn't leave.. he loved you so much.. he yearned for you to hug him again.. he yearned.. for you, he would make sure you NEVER left. As you ran trying to find a place to hide still trying to catch your breath you failed to notice you were running toward a research capsule.

As you approached it you finally noticed it, you were too late and tripped over it. Falling to the ground, before you could even try to get back up four arms picked you up rendering you helpless. Struggling in his hold trying to get out as he turned you toward himself. You looked at him sobbing thinking that you'd never see your friends again. To him you always looked so beautiful even when your crying like this.

You looked cute crying, but he was sure you'd look even better with a grin. Using on of his hands pat your head and the other to cup your cheek and wipe away your tears. It felt so good to be in your embrace once more.

You slowly stopped trying to get out realizing that wasn't gonna work. "It's okay.. everything's okay now.." he said bringing you closer to him. It was good you stopped trying, it was always gonna be useless. No matter how much you ran he would always catch you. He hoped this meant you loved him too. You would forever be in his arms.

[jkwrites-m]

Skee-Ball

Part 2 - Mall Rats

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Surrounded by flashing lights and silence, Jungkook and Y/N shared an impulsive, intimate moment that deepened their already growing bond.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, kissing, cursing, fingering, public sex, unprotected sex, strip tease (?), missionary, oral (m. receiving)

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Jungkook’s suggestion to explore the nearly empty mall further felt like a dare. One laced with mischief, and I couldn’t resist.

The way he said it, eyes glinting with something wild and playful, made it impossible to say no. He reached out his hand like he was inviting me into a secret, and I took it without hesitation.

The deeper we wandered into the quiet heart of the mall, the more it felt like we were slipping into another world- one where time slowed, and only our footsteps echoed against the cold, tiled floors.

Most of the mall was asleep, the kind of sleep where lights still buzz but shops forget to breathe. Stores sat in silence, metal gates half-drawn, like they weren’t sure if they were open or closed. The hum of old air conditioning rattled in the ceiling, the only real sign the place was still alive.

The air around us buzzed, not with noise, but with something intangible. Anticipation. The thrill of being somewhere we maybe weren’t supposed to be. I could feel it in my chest. In my fingertips. In the way Jungkook kept glancing over at me, like he was waiting for me to crack a smile or challenge him to something.

Then we saw it.

The arcade loomed ahead, tucked at the edge of the corridor like a forgotten treasure chest. Its neon sign still blinked, barely, the letters flickering with fading energy- half blue, half red, all nostalgia. Inside, some machines were lit, others sat in silence. A claw machine hummed softly near the entrance, and the glow from the screen bathed the floor in shifting colors.

I stopped for a second, breath catching. “It’s still open?”

“Barely,” Jungkook said, tugging gently on my hand. “Let’s go wake it up.”

His hand brushed mine again as we stepped inside, his fingers lacing between mine for a heartbeat. That one small touch sent a jolt of electricity through my veins- sharp and sudden, like the moment before a first kiss or a drop on a roller coaster. My heart tripped over itself.

He walked ahead and let go, only to spin around and face me, walking backward with that confident smile of his.

“Ready for some fun?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. His eyebrow piercing glinted in the dim light, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“What did you have in mind?” I replied, playing along.

“A little game,” he said, his lips curling into that cheeky grin I loved. “Winner gets… whatever they want.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Whatever they want, huh?”

“Whatever they want,” he repeated, his gaze locking onto mine.

The arcade was a time capsule, filled with old machines and faded posters. Jungkook led me to a skeeball machine, dusty but still functional.

“First challenge,” he announced. “Whoever gets the highest score in one round gets to pick a dare.”

I laughed, feeling a rush of excitement. “You’re on.”

We took turns playing, our competitive streaks coming out in full force. I threw the balls with precision, but Jungkook managed to edge me out by a slim margin. “Looks like I win,” he said, smirking.

“Damn, you’re good,” I admitted, playfully. “Alright, what’s the dare?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I want you to kiss me right here, in the middle of the arcade.”

“That’s lame. ”

Without another word, he pulled me close, his lips crashing against mine. The kiss was hungry, desperate, like we’d been starving for each other. His hands slid down my waist, pulling me tighter against him, and I could feel the heat of his body through his shirt. The thrill of being caught, of doing something so reckless, only fueled the fire between us.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless. “Give me a better dare,” I said, my voice shaky.

Jungkook’s grin was wicked. “Alright. Let’s see how brave you really are. I dare you to strip down to your bra and panties and dance on this skeeball lane.”

My eyes widened, but the idea sent a shiver down my spine. “What if someone comes in?”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” he said, his voice laced with challenge.

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. The idea of being so exposed, so vulnerable, was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. I quickly shed my clothes, leaving only my lacy black bra and panties. The cool air kissed my skin as I climbed onto the lane, the dusty surface slick beneath my bare feet.

Jungkook watched me with a mix of pride and desire, his gaze devouring every inch of me. “Dance for me,” he commanded, his voice rough.

I moved slowly at first, swaying my hips to an imaginary beat. His eyes never left me, and I could see the hunger building in them. I ran my hands over my body, teasing him, teasing myself. The arcade felt like our private stage, and I was putting on a show just for him.

“Come here,” he growled, stepping closer.

I jumped down from the machine, my heart pounding. He grabbed me by the waist, his lips pressing fiercely against mine. His hands roamed freely, cupping my breasts, squeezing my ass. I moaned into his mouth, my hands tangling in his jet-black hair.

“I want you,” he whispered against my ear, his breath hot. “Right here, right now.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I pushed him back against the pinball machine behind him, my hands working to unbuckle his belt. He groaned as I pulled down his pants, his thick, hard cock springing free. I dropped to my knees, my lips wrapping around him, teasing the tip before taking him deep into my mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his hands gripping my hair. “You’re so good.”

I hummed in response, my tongue swirling around him, savoring the taste of him. The sound of his moans, the sight of his muscular body trembling with pleasure, sent a surge of power through me. I wanted to make him lose control, to push him to the edge.

“Stand up,” he commanded, his voice hoarse.

I obeyed, my legs shaky as I rose. He lifted me onto the pinball machine, positioning me so I was lying back, my legs spread wide. The glass was cold against my skin, but the heat between us was undeniable.

Jungkook didn’t waste any time. He thrust into me, filling me completely, his lips finding mine in a desperate kiss. The machine creaked beneath us as he moved, his rhythm relentless. I wrapped my legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with my own, my nails digging into his arms.

“Harder,” I gasped, my voice pleading.

He obliged, his hips snapping against mine, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the arcade. The thrill of being so exposed, of anyone walking in and seeing us like this, only heightened the pleasure. I was teetering on the edge, my orgasm building like a storm.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growled, his voice raw. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

His words pushed me over the edge. My body shook as my orgasm ripped through me, my cries echoing off the walls. Jungkook followed soon after, his thrusts slowing as he spilled himself inside me, his lips pressing against my neck.

For a moment, we sat there, breathless and tangled, the only sound was our heavy breathing. Jungkook’s arms held me close, his lips brushing my forehead.

“That was… incredible,” I murmured, my voice soft.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to try that,” he confessed, his voice filled with wonder.

I smiled, feeling a deep connection forming between us.

What started as a game had turned into something much more- a shared secret, a bond forged in the heat of the moment.

There was something unspoken in the way he looked at me now, like he saw a part of me no one else had. The laughter, the sparks, the silence between our words, it all settled into something real. Something lasting.

As we dressed and left the arcade, hand in hand, I couldn’t help but feel like this was just the beginning. The mall lights still flickered, and the world outside carried on, unaware that something inside me had shifted.

The empty mall had become our playground, and I knew there were more adventures, and more dares, waiting for us.

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These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

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Posted: 05/26/2025

[purin-gambler]

gachapon machines with bokuto was a small mistake. upon walking around the streets of the bustling city, your aimless journey with each others company somehow landed you in front of an array of different wind up machines, all filled with an assortment of different capsuled collectables. ranging from plushies, can badges, keychains— all the sort. the two of you deciding to take closer inspection of every wind up machine to see what was available to randomly receive in exchange of a few coins.

“kou, this ones cute!” you called out to bokuto, who turned from the machine of nostalgic mini figures of some childhood animation he once enjoyed. he stepped close behind you, large toned body against your much plush and softer one. large hands firmly squeezed around your pudgy hips to stabilize himself as moved forward to observe the selection of keychains inside the machine you were looking at.

a variety adorable little mascot keychains were displayed, your voice amused as you exclaimed, “this one kinda reminds me of you!” he glanced over to see your expression, an intrigued look of awe exhibited onto your features as you looked at cute assortment. especially at the little owl keychain you were specifically eyeing. a light breath of a chuckle bubbled from bokuto, and without question, he pulled out a few coins from his wallet, and already placing them into the gachapon, winding up the machine.

he nodded for you to take the capsule now sitting idly for your taking. a small exchange of gratitude was conveyed from your lips, before popping open the keychains plastic confinement.

a little cat appeared, to which, bokuto snickered. reminded of an old friend instantly, a mental image of said friend flashing his mind. though, it wasnt the owl you wanted, so he pulled out more coins for you— another attempt to keep going.

though when it still wasnt it, he kept going. and going… and going…

you told him to stop countless of turns ago, but each time he kept insisting, “just one more time…”

eventually, he did get the little owl that reminded you of him so much. a small exclamation of victory exchanged between you both, and the glimmer of happiness in your eyes was well worth the efforts to bokuto. even though he drained the machine of all its contents until you got what you wanted. still, it was well worth it.

maybe he’ll just hand out the extra 30 keychains he rolled to his teammates and volleyball fans…

[cogimiun]

solomon x reader

summary: you find a mystery potion & bring it to Solomon for identification

warnings: none

rating: all ages

“Well now…” Solomon mused, surprise in his voice betraying a placid expression, “You won this from a prize capsule?”

“That's what I said,” you answer him. His surprise is fair. You're confused too. The small bottle on the table between you looks old. Very old. The dust is caked on, and the label long worn away, leaving parts of the glass surface sticky to the touch where it had once been adhered. It's also only about half-full. “So what is it?”

The fact that it clearly shouldn't have come from a capsule machine is beside the point. That's where you got it, and now you have it, so naturally, you brought it to your Master Sorcerer, since it's clearly a potion. Of some kind. Solomon picks it up from the table and unplugs the stopper. He holds it directly under his nose to smell. This strikes you as vaguely unwise. Also, you can smell it from your seat as soon as he opens it, and it's wretched.

“It’s hard to tell if the potion itself is putrified, or just the ingredients,” Solomon says, and before you can ask, he adds, “It makes a difference. But there are some notes of magdalena. My guess—” Solomon rises from the table, retrieving two cordial glasses from the cabinet, “—is that it's some kind of love potion, or aphrodisiac.”

He doesn't say this with any of the scandal or embarrassment you would expect if you had brought it to the House of Lamentation. You've caught him in a scholarly mood. Nevertheless, he fills the small glasses generously from what's left of the bottle, without asking, leaving only a splash on the bottom when he sets it back down on the table.

Like a good apprentice, you lift the glass and toast with him. You try to keep your nose from wrinkling. It truly is vile, and Solomon doesn't even seem to notice. You knock it back quickly, trying not to gag as it congeals slightly on the way down. Ultimately, you can't stop yourself from making a face, and by the time your attention returns to Solomon, he's smiling placidly, with his hands folded in his lap, looking at you attentively.

You wait a beat, assuming he's about to tell you what he learned from your utterly unscientific experiment. Then you wait two. 

“...So which is it?”

“I'm not sure,” he admits readily, still smiling at you sweetly, “I feel the same.”

[devoutekuna]

Funfair

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

He most definitely enters an eating competition, having the advantage of two mouths, so he feeds his stomach one and his normal one. "If you win, I want the bunny!" Pointing to the giant bunny Infront of him, it wasn't an 'if' it was a 'when' at this point. Knowing his competition couldn't compete with him. Normally there wouldn't be such a competition. Stuffing his mouth already with the pie, atleast it was a meat pie, he just had to eat one of them and a few ribs, that would be a snack just for him.

Wiping his face after just a few minutes, watching as the lady handed his daughter the giant plushie. "I'm going to name you princess sparkles" pointing at the pink sparkly paws it had.

Gojo-

Gojo gets lost in the game whenever he plays with someone else, and in this context, it was his son. Sat pouting on the seat as he saw his father score a strike, "You saw that?" Cocking his head to the side. Realising that his son was starting to tear up as he kicked his legs on the seat. "Awh, I'm sorry baby" ruffling his hair so it accidentally all got messed up. Crouching down to the little guy's level as he held his bare knees. "I promise I'll help you win" trying to make a smile on his face as he shook his leg. Picking his son up as he brought him towards the aisle, grabbing a small ball for him.

Nanami-

The giant teddybear staring at his daughter, practically begging to be won by the punching game. "Daddy I want that!" Pointing to the bear which overlooked the punch ball machine. "Are you sure?" He knew he had the strength to win the bear despite his looks. Nodding her head. Sleeves already rolled up as he got ready. "Good lucky daddy!" Giving him a reassuring thumbs up, if he didn't get it in the first try, he'd definitely come back and do it over hand over again even if it drained him of his wallet. The machine made a blaring noise as it calculated how hard his punch was, the little ball thing being stuck inside the slot. Stepping back as his daughter watched in amaze. "Here you go" handing her the plushie.

Geto-

He's not big of funfairs, unless he's with you. Walking his daughter out of the park as she looked around the place, his hands filled with a giant stuffed teddybear. "Let's go on that daddy" pointing to the Ferris wheel which was in motion, normally she hated rides that came off the ground due to her fear of heights, always resulting in her crying in his arms. "Are you sure?" He knew how hard it would be to comfort her when she starts crying. Nodding her head eagerly as they stepped towards the queue.

Sat in the capsule with just him and his daughter, watching as it lifted into the sky, unfortunately this one didn't have any glass walls so it was just a fence holding them back from falling. He didn't trust his daughter to not try and look out. Hand wrapped around her ankle as she stared out, not noticing how high up they were due to the dark. "Can I have the bear?" Pointing to the bear held, he knew she'd try and throw it out the cage. "Nope" keeping it between his legs. Pouting her lips as she sat down next to him, kicking her legs on the bench.

Toji-

His daughter loved fish, mainly goldfish as that's all she knew. So when she sees bags of fish just sat there, she wants to get one, despite not even having the correct equipment to keep one. Fortunately for him he was great with guns, with this game he had to shoot the targets down when they moved. Picking up the gun as he aimed at the duck. "Remember, when you win, I want Mr fish" pointing to the fish which kept banging it's head on the bag. Holding onto his shirt as she pointed. "You've already named it?"

Taking a shot. Hitting a perfect bullseye. "Yep! And he's going to wear a top hat!" Rambling on about the fish. "That's cute" replying as he took another perfect score, only one more to go. Much to the owner's dismay as he saw that he got 3 bullseyes, normally it was rigged so they wouldn't get any but with Toji it wouldn't work. Handing over the fish to the little girl. Getting handed the bag as she looked in amaze at her father. "No way!" Swinging her father back and forth as she saw the fish swim around the bag.

[bones4thecats]

↳ Fractured Confessions III.

A Future! Trunks × Goku-Daughter! Reader × Obsessed! Zamasu.

Chapters: One. Two. Three (here). Four. Five. Six. Seven I. Seven II.

This was made with my lovely new friend Tumblr friend; @looooochie!

●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Gohan asked you, his hand grasping your wrist lightly.

Looking back at the time machine that Bulma made, you felt your soul become heavier. You loved the time you've spent here with your family and friends. But, you did owe your people the defeat of Black. You owe your family the defeat of Goku Black.

"I'm sure. Don't worry, big brother. I'll be alright. I've survived this long, after all."

Gohan nodded, hugging you before letting you walk towards your three traveling companions; your Trunks, along with Goku and Vegeta. Goku smiled at you along with Trunks while Vegeta just nodded at you.

Each of you hopped inside and left, heading off to your timeline to figure out the ending of this seemingly endless battle.

-

Landing, you looked outside the surrounding glass. Your eyes went dim once again. The memories filled your mind as you all jumped out of the machine.

Well... three of your did. Goku fell on his rear.

"I got sick from looking outside." He explained.

"Are you a kid?" Vegeta retorted.

Trunks hit the button, transforming the machine back into a capsule for safe keeping until the next use. As he did so, Goku and Vegeta looked around shocked.

"Everything's wrecked... is this the future?"

Looking around like them, you saw the spot where Mai collapsed. Or rather, where she was supposed to have collapsed. Yet, her body was... gone. Did the other resistance members collect it to bury?

Trunks ran towards the sight. He must have noticed it as well. You thought.

"Trunks!" Vegeta yelled as he chased his son. Goku and you, on the other hand, walked behind them. Your mind was too clouded with thoughts to run, while Goku was as chill as ever.

All of a sudden, five gunshots ran through the air, alerting the four of you.

Five bullets soared towards you and your father, but before they could land, you raised your hand and fired a ki blast. Unbeknownst to you, Trunks had thrown his sword at the same time, causing an even larger explosion than expected.

Looking at Trunks, he nodded. A silent telling that it was him and not someone else.

You could hear the guns cocking once again for another attack, but before they could fire, the sound of Trunks and your voices came out, yelling at the men to stop firing.

"This isn't Goku Black!" You screamed. "This is the real Goku! My real father!"

They were shocked and ran towards you four, apologized, and a stray soldier, seemingly younger than them all, walked up to you and asked if you were alright.

"I'm alright." You replied, a smile on your face. "How are you?"

"As best as I can be right now..." He replied sadly.

Noticing his sadness, you laid a hand on his helmet-covered head. His eye-covering was pushed up enough for you to see his green eyes sparkle underneath your affectionate touch.

"Don't worry, with the help of Vegeta and my father, we'll be fine."

A small flush overtook his cheeks as he chuckled nervously and pushed the covering back over his eyes, most likely in an effort to conceal his fluster.

"Wait. Who told you about us bringing warriors from the past?" Trunks asked another soldier.

"Mai did."

What?

-

It was true. Mai had survived the attack, and she had been helping keep the people's morals high throughout everything. But it was obvious she hadn't done everything she wished she had. It was during this time that the past versions of the Saiyan frenemies saw just how much you and Trunks mattered to your people.

You were truly the best duo they had seen.

But, while it was happy for the people below the surface of the destroyed city, it was not so happy for the two beings in a cabin just outside of the city.

-

"You mean to tell me that girl is who you've been looking at all this time?!" Black yelled, energy flaying in an emotional spur as he spoke.

Grey eyes trailed from the horizon to the dark-Goku and blinked tranquilly. His lips moved only to speak, not to smile, not to do anything other than reply to his partner.

"To be quick and honest; yes, she is."

Black scoffed, rolling his eyes while crossing his arms. It was obvious what his opinion on this situation was; it was dumb. They spent so much time, so much work on this plan, and his own future self was willing to throw it all away just to get his hands on some random girl?!

Not just a girl; but Goku's daughter?! Seriously?!

"It's like a damn enemies to lovers story. Except there's no way the lovers part is gonna happen. You and I have both seen how she's looked at us! She hates us to the ends of the universe. Her emotions are more dark than the tea we had to make that old yellow kai we once called Master!"

Turning around, a stray blast just barely misses Black's head. Thankfully he had dodged at the last moment, saving his head the pain of being separate from his body.

"If you insult her one more time, I will bind you in the Sacred World of the Kai, break your mind, and tear you apart piece by piece as your screams deafen all within earshot."

Black froze, eyes bulging wide as he stares at his future self in a mixture of fear and shock. He had never been this violent before, so why was he now when you were thrown into the conversation?

"Am I clear?"

"...Yes."

-

It was just like last time. The first time you traveled through time.

But this time, you didn't just have Goku Black on your tails, you had the future version of Zamasu there as well. He was terrifying. When you first met the kai, you believed him to be polite, troubled, but polite nonetheless. Certainly not capable of such violence towards others.

You heard your name being called behind you again. It was Vegeta.

"Get back to the time machine. Now!" He yelled, sending another blast towards the oncoming villains.

You looked upwards and saw how Black and Zamasu dodged and blasted back at everyone. They were so talented in fighting, it was unreal!

The fact that Zamasu was immortal and Black had gained control over your father's abilities only made it worse.

Zamasu's eyes never left your figure. Even as he blasted attacks back and sent off his own. It was beyond terror-filling.

Trunks held his hand out for you to grab and you almost felt his skin against your own before a hand wrapped around your mouth and another around your waist, pulling you back into the future and away from the past.

Trunks yelled for you, trying to help you free. But, you kicked him back into the machine and sent a ki-wave to close to hatch.

You saw Goku and Trunks try getting out of the machine as it started revving. Vegeta stared in horror while Mai cried as she started the time machine up to go back in time.

Zamasu smiled behind you as he held you close in a taunt to the others. As if to say he had won.

The last thing you heard was your name being screamed by the three males as they disappeared back all those years. All those years away from you.

"Did you just let them go?!" Black yelled.

"Oh, don't worry, my counterpart." Zamasu buzzed. "We have exactly what we need."

I love you... I'm sorry...

[angelsturniolo]

i'm right here, baby - c.s

in which ~ harper attempts to end her life and chris saves her before it's too late (happy ending!)

warnings ~ self harm, ed, death threats, mentions of death, hospitals, needles, anxiety, (whatever triggers)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

chris was never a boyfriend who ignored your own thoughts and feelings, instead he'd think your own was better than his.

for example, he said he wanted to have a steak dinner, but that didn't strike your fancy, so he told nick to turn the grill off and save the steak for later.

or, when he didn't want taylor swift but remembered you're a huge fan, so he told matt to turn on "long live"

but today, you thought of the worst.

what if, he was only doing this to make you happy?

no, thats stupid.

scrolling on the comments of your latest instagram post of you and the triplets at the beach, your heart dropped, all filled with "kill yourself ugly bitch" or "i can see your bones"

you've had major body issues since that one kid on playground said you looked like santa claus at 8 years old, after suffering an eating disorder your freshmen year, and the aftermath, familes telling you to gain weight, you did, but they still told you to.

a few days later, the death threats keep on getting worse, you told chris that you could ignore it, but really, you were refusing help, which lead you to sitting on the ledge of the bathtub, looking at your prescripted meds for depression.

you open the orange capsule, looking at the blue 200 mg tablets, wondering,

is it worth it? really?

without heasiation, you consume all of them, at first, you felt fine and stood up,

then blacked out.

chris found your unconscious body and started sobbing, screaming for matt and nick, the hurt in his voice was unbearable, all of their voices at that moment were unbearable.

nick struggles to call the ambulance as he's shaking, matt helps him as chris looks at the orange bottle, with nothing in it now.

the paramedics rush in, taking you away, all three of them quickly follow.

you were rushed in as the doctors hook up the machines, chris couldn't even bare to see his girl like this, thinking of the worst.

the doctors don't know if you're going to make it, by all the pills you've took.

chris cries as the doctors try to console him, he doesn't want to lose his girlfriend, he really doesn't.

the doctors say that they can do life shock to see if you'd wake up.

chris nods, his vision blurry from his tears.

the doctor preforms life shock as chris holds your hand

"c'mon harper..." he mumbles

the room went silent, thinkng you didn't make it

suddenly, your eyes flutter open, IV's in both arms, vitals, heart monitor, breathing tube, what the hell happened?

chris smiles widely as he kisses your head, "baby,"

you regain consciousness, "where, where am i?"

chris takes a deep breath, "you almost died."

hearing that makes your heart drop,

"you scared us baby, i thought you were going to die in front of me."

no words said by you, you move over so he can sit on the bed, you pat a spot for him, and he sits there, carefully wrapping you in his embrace

"i'm sorry.." you choke out

"no no no, don't be sorry, you should've told me sooner though,"

he sighs

"and always remember,"

he leans in and whispers,

"i'm right here baby."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: tysm for reading! i upload fluff for fun, and i'm planning on making a couple of oneshots.

kiss kiss, makenna

tags!

@24kmar @cherib3lla @bratzforchris

[blood-red-ocean]

It's been a while since I did an unhinged headcanon so here's what I imagine would be in each RL character's bag/backpack/pockets ✨

Miranda

- Poison. Either concealed in one of those old timey capsule rings or in a little bottle à la Emperor's New Groove.

- Paperwork. More specifically, expulsion paperwork already filled out except for the name section which she would fill out any time she was displeased.

- Some crow feathers. Whether it's from Cornelius getting nosey or Miranda being sentimental, nobody knows.

- Pictures of Eva and of MC.

- I feel like she'd also be the type to have a fountain pen in her handbag too.

Alcina

- One of those poseable wood doohickeys. You know the ones.

- Her signature perfume. And maybe a rose. And a tube of lipstick.

- A brochure of local wine tastings, and also a bunch of brochures from her theatres.

- She would probably have a Polaroid nude of MC stretched out on a chaise lounge tbh.

- Something to represent each of her daughters. A little trinket, perhaps.

Donna

- A book on herbology which is tattered and yellowed, the spine barely keeping the pages together.

- Her notebook with her order ledger and her own sketches and scribbles.

- A travel mug of herbal tea that she brewed herself.

- A little bag of dried flower petals and herbs.

- Her gardening gloves.

- I also believe that Angie would've gotten her a very small plushie of a plant that she takes everywhere with her.

Angie

- At LEAST twenty seven of those little travel sized alcohol bottles. Every time she takes a step, there's a clinking sound.

- Painkillers.

- A small, much less tattered copy of the herbology book that Donna has, but every page has a dried flower within it.

- In a secret pocket, there is a very small folded up picture of her mother.

Bela

- She doesn't carry a bag with her, it's not practical.

- Though if she did, she would probably just fill it full of office supplies.

- Maybe little things that made her remember her heart was beneath layers upon layers of numbness. The skull of a mouse, a four leaf clover, a small plushie.

Cassandra

- Its ✨the backpack✨ that she takes to dates' houses/dorms.

- Also like a billion of those little coffee machine capsules.

- An old takeaway cup.

- A stack of pieces of paper with phone numbers on them, just in case.

- A wrench, just in case.

Daniela

- TECH DECKS. SO MANY TECH DECKS.

- And like fifteen sticky hand things that she can use to hold MC's hand from a distance.

- Also a rag for when she gets sweaty.

- A skating magazine and a book on constellations.

- Also a book about theatre and some brochures for when she tries to connect with Alcina.

Mia

- Knives.

- So many knives.

- Empty her backpack out? Knives.

- Turn her upside down and shake her by the ankles? Knives.

- Look under her tongue and tell her to say 'ah'? Probably a tiny knife in there too.

[kurios-development-hell]

I had time to put into sketch a rough draft of how my SpamEX [[TAQUIÖN]] would look like. I need to do a ton of research about him before doing a clean ref-sheet.

Basically he has 4 arms, but they are braided in bundles of two to each side and tucked against the chest-plate. Because those arms are useless to manipulate objects (the hands are literal laser-guns that can split in half), he produces some kind of ionized smoke from the porthole filters to the sides of his skull faceplate (based on the gas used on old casino machines to fill up the lights -- he's basically constructed after old broken wild-west casino machines and software). This ionized smoke is able to coalesce into more solid things like arms and deft hands (that he uses to play his 15-player Baccarat at his casino or to drink his coffee and spirits). He's used to manipulate objects with just his smoke, and leave his real arms for when he needs to deal with foes, rivals and unruly bounties.

More about him when I get the time to develop him a little more. Thanks to the "Spam Fam" for helping me get the courage to finally draw a first draft of my SpamEX (AFTER A YEAR; I was very shy and unsure about how people would react to my "Enterrador" SpamEX...).

The poncho should have some Mexican "Día de los Muertos" patterns that I need to research later to give it a more readeable pattern to the poncho. The symbols on it (the Pique, Trèfle and Coeur) means "LIFE, LUCK, LOVE" respectively (Fortune is forfeited since he became a greedy casino mogul when he became a SpamEX). The buckle of his belt is a big Spamton NEO skull (represents his transition from the dead NEO and reborn as an "undead" SpamEX).

Anyway, I think he's taller than that Kris, but will make that ref sheet with cleaner profile data when I get the time. If I reckon well, he was made after Kris forgot to check on Spamton tangled in the wires after Kris and co. defeated him with violence. So Spamton's view on the Lightners soured so much that [[TAQUIÖN]] can't see them as anything else but mere walking SOUL capsules waiting to be pop'd...

oof I'm so hungry, I better go make my lunch... 🍝

[shaw-ni]

Steadyhands AU, post Edizzy divorce where after some therapy, an intervention from their friends and a break from each other which lasted a few weeks, Ed and Izzy’s relationships is firmly in the “ it’s complicated” option on Facebook (Izzy is a Facebook mum and does post pointed passive aggressive rants on his page daily). Ed starts bringing Izzy coffee during their lunch break, a large haf-caf cappuccino with coconut milk and one sugar (haf-caf because he needs some caffeine to keep himself awake but not enough to keep him trapped to the toilet seat). Ed has a new concoction every day, always with 7 pumps of what ever syrup they have on option, and coconut milk as well (which he gets to let Izzy have a taste, and even though it tastes like a headache and the cream is never dairy free, Izzy always tries at least one sip, he’s trying too, okay?). Thing is, the coffee might just be the best coffee he’s ever tasted, the first time Izzy tasted it (trying not to look into Ed’s big brown hopeful eyes) he almost moaned in bliss, but settled for a slight nod and a muttered “it’s good”, which might as well have been a Hollywood handshake coming from Izzy.

The coffee cups are damn adorable too, with little illustrated pirate ships and the ocean filled with sea creatures on the sides (and some weird swirly writing as well, probably the barista writing the order? Not sure what the hearts are about, who cares, cursive is beyond him). The coffee shop is called ‘the revenge’ which seems an odd name, but their Tattoo parlour is called ‘Queen Annie’, so who is he to judge (said Izzy never). There’s only one problem, however, every time Ed comes back from the coffee shop, he practically skips into the studio, smile dimpling his cheeks like he just ate something sugary sweet. And Izzy knows that smile, even though it’s been years since it’s been aimed at him, it’s almost enough to put him off his coffee (almost, it’s fucking good coffee, right!).

Anywho, this goes on for a couple of weeks, with Izzy gritting his teeth every time Ed prances through the Parlour doors, until one day Ed’s not here to give him his daily coffee fix ( he told Ed going clubbing with Jack was a bad idea, but what’s does he know? He’s only been on the wrong end of Jacks generous pours since before he was legally allowed to drink, but whatever). Beforehand, Izzy would of just used their shop owned coffee machine in the kitchen, but perhaps he’s been a tiny but spoiled these past few weeks because their Nespresso coffee capsule doesn’t sounds appealing at all (that, and he’s not sure when it was last cleaned). He eventually decides, fuck it, and grabs his coat to head out side. It doesn’t take him long to find ‘the Revenge’, the place has a distinctly 16th century feel to it, in that it looks like it’s came right of the set of a period drama. The outside of the shop resembling the front of a ship, equipped with a unicorn figurehead, intricate wood carvings and what appears to be several hand made flags (including the trans flag, which, fuck yeah).

Inside, the place is bustling with customers and live music, the pirate theme seems to continue with the interior and there is a relaxing low light illuminating the shop. The live music, a tall but awkward man playing sea shanties on stage, seems to be the reason for the large number of people in the shop, and fortunately the line behind the counter seems to be relatively short. He makes a beeline for the line and repeats his coffee order in his head (it pays to be prepared). After five minutes, the line has annoyingly, not budged an inch; at this rate he’ll end up late for his next appointment. Izzy stretches his head to peer over the few heads in front of him and notices a tall, blonde twat babbling away to the frazzled barista. Fucking twat.

“Oye, quit holding up the line, some of us have places to be,” Izzy yells over to said twat. Startled, the man turns towards Izzy, and oh shit, assholes shouldn’t be allowed to be pretty, Jesus Christ. Shit. The asshole looks directly at Izzy, his eyes seem to drift and then linger on his chest, before moving slowly back to his face. Shit. He must be feeling the effects of a caffeine withdrawal, the only explanation to why he suddenly feels so flushed.

“One moment, sir. We’re quite in the middle of something.” With that the twat turns back to the barista, picking up their conversation.

Never mind, the only thing he’s feeling now is pissed.

“Mate, I doubt this guy wants to listen to your sad attempt at flirting, just order your damn coffee and go.”

The blonde asshole splutters angrily? Embarrassedly? And turns his full body towards Izzy (Jesus, those shoulders don’t deserve this guy, not fucking fair).

“My attempts at flirting are not sad! You angry little man! And I’m not flirting, that would be unprofessional, considering I am attempting to converse with my own staff!” The man speaks in a way that emphasises the unspoken exclamation points in his speech without actually increasing the volume of his voice, his accent is familiar in the way a 5 year old might play Mary had a little lamb on the piano. And wait… did he just say his staff?

He scoffs. “ Your staff?.”

The asshole raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Mine.”

Izzy raises his own bushy eyebrow. “Well if I was you, I’d—”

“Oh, hey Izzy, didn’t think I’d see you here!”

Izzy turns too see his ex husband turned current best friend and forever love of his life weaving quickly through the crowd, suspiciously springy for someone who was supposed to be ‘too sick to work’ hungover.

Ed finally makes it through the cluster of people, and swings an arm around Izzy’s shoulder. He grins at Izzy and then weirdly enough at the blonde asshole Izzy was in the middle of arguing with. “I see you’ve met Stede!” He cups his hand to his mouth and mock whispers to the blonde twat, of course he’d have a pretentious name like Stede. “Man, Izzy here loves your cappuccinos, won’t drink it from anywhere else, he even said they were ‘not shit’ which coming from Izzy, is a five star review!”

Wait, what?

“He makes the cof—”

“He drinks the cappuccino?!?”

Izzy looks to the blonde prick, who seems to be turning an amusing shade of pink and oh… suddenly the hearts on the coffee cups make a lot more sense. Shit. Well isn’t this fucking fantastic.