#aha drabble

[messysketchyobeyme]

“You’re drunk.”

Lucifer hums. His eyelids droop slightly. “Perhaps…maybe a little,” he says, his words slurred and his breath tinged with the distinct smell of alcohol.

Lucifer had just gotten back from an outing to the Demon Lord’s Castle, only to immediately slump to your room. While you are than happy to spend time with Lucifer, it is still a little off-putting to see him act like this.

“What am I going to do with you?” you ask. You sound exasperated, but there’s an edge of playfulness to your tone.

Your fingers rest on the side of his face. You caress his soft skin before tilting his head toward you, so you can kiss his cheek.

Lucifer brings his hand to his lips to stifle a laugh.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” You pepper more kisses against his cheek, slowly moving to trail along the underside of his jaw.

The warmth of his skin beckons you to continue, and you can feel his cheek rumble when he bursts into quiet giggles.

“That tickles,” he laughs. Lucifer squirms in place but doesn’t make any move to push you away. Rather, he wraps his arms around you in a hug and pulls you closer.

“Good,” you say in between kisses.

[spideyhexx]

hmmmmmmmmmm peacekeeper coryo calling you a “worthless district slut” while fucking you from behind 🫶🫶🫶

i love you dally <3

cw; name-calling, degradation, just like disrespect hjfkdhjg

god like's got you in your rickety small bed in your tiny home because he wasn't about to bring you to the barracks, you weren't worth that to him. Part of him also feels dirty himself if the other peacekeepers saw him with you, even though they all do the same shit. Like Coryo just gets in his head about it, you know?

but anyways, he's got you on your knees, ass up and face down in your pillow because you can't hold yourself up anymore. He's fucked you through two orgasms already, edging himself in the process and you're not even sure why until he's gripping your hair and pulling it back so your chest is to his back. His mouth at your ear, whispering harshly that he's making sure he gives you a big enough load to hold you over for the next week.

You do try to respond, but he's already pushing you back down the bed and gripping harder at your hips. "Don't come again," he tells you, his voice in a snapped whisper as he grunts. You ask him why you can't, especially since you're feeling it build again. The way he pistons himself into you so relentlessly is overdoing it for you. You never would have thought this hard of a fuck would make your head spin and make you want orgasm so much, but it did.

"Because I said so," he scoffs when he says it and gives a particularly harsh squeeze to your hip, "I don't need to explain myself to you."

You protest. You don't fully care if he keeps you from cumming again because you already got to, but the other part of you is desperate for another release after his torment. That you've listened all night to him. That you let him into your home. Made him food. All of that.

Coryo lets out a chuckle once you finish speaking in your whiny, fucked out voice, "do you seriously think I give a shit about that? You're nothing but a worthless district slut. A hole to fuck," and to punctuate that, he slowly slams his cock into you four times.

Your legs tremble and tears prick at your eyes. It's like he knows it too because his next words are, "Don't fucking cry. You're fine. I'll hold you up if you're too weak."

And he does have to. Your legs feel like jelly as he works himself into you over and over and over until he's letting out a strangled moan, almost oddly whimpery as he pulls out and spills over your ass. Coryo slaps the head of his cock to your ass, panting over you and lets your body rest to your bed.

You hadn't even realized the wood splintered on the bed till you hear him muttering about it when he gets off the bed, and it creaks more than it used to.

The most decency he gives is throwing you a rag you had on your desk while he's tugging up his pants and getting his belt on.

"See you in a week, district," he says to you, before he leaves without another glance.

[wishluc]

can i request for something with yandere alhaitham x reader? feel free to go ham with everything else!

✧ CW: yandere character, blackmail, manipulation

✧ PAIRING: Alhaitham x GN! reader

✧ quick context; reader met alhaitham when they came some time ago to 'fix' Katheryne after complaints were made (about when Nahida had control over her)

Alhaitham had been expecting your return.

However, you probably hadn't thought he would be waiting, seeing that you had yet to seek him out yourself. Why were you still so reserved about reaching out to him? He remembers how your enthusiastic conversation had faltered when he mentioned his official position during your initial meeting...did that have anything to do with your timidity?

There was no point in waiting around his office any longer. After all, if you weren't coming, then he'd have to seek you out himself. Fortunately, he knew exactly where you'd be, busy at work.

He calls your name with an ease that came from hours of saying it to himself, "back already?"

You pause, putting down your torch to turn and look at him, your warm smile greeting him so familiari, "I hope my quick return doesn't make you think any less of Snezhnayan technology, Alhaitham."

"On the contrary," the corners of his lips twitch as he looks down at your crouched form, "I find their quick service quite remarkable. So, is this just a routine check-up?"

You sigh, before telling him all about the new barrage of anonymous complaints that's been flooding the headquarters; all about how Katheryne, again, had started to leave her post unattended for hours and spoke oddly. Unfortunately, you had been reprimanded for not doing a thorough job when you were here merely a month ago.

Alhaitham almost felt a tinge of guilt, knowing that he was to blame for that. But it dissipates almost immediately when you address him again.

"Did you notice her acting strange at all?"

He shrugs off your question, instead opting to flip through the book you brought along with you. It just happened to be the one he recommended to you during your last trip to Sumeru, and a smile almost did break through his neutral expression. He thumbed the little colored tabs sticking out of the top, making a mental note to thoroughly examine your annotations sometime. He'd prefer if you come to show him yourself, though. For a moment, he looks up from the pages, his eyes flitting between you and the Katheryne you were examining.

"So? Is there anything wrong?"

"Everything's right where it's supposed to be, and it doesn't look like anything's wrong," as you speak, you let yourself get busy with the familiar process of inspecting the inner workings of the bionic lifeform. Alhaitham watches over you with the same, unreadable expression as before, "I'll still have to stay for about a week to observe her and ensure that she's really in good working condition, just like the last time."

A week, you said? Alhaitham runs through his own schedule mentally, before deciding that it just wouldn't do. He had to put his plan into motion, at once.

Alhaitham watches from a distance, coffee in hand, as you approach the pieced-apart Katheryne. Under the morning sun rays, you're quite the mesmerizing sight, despite your frazzled state. You shift through the scattered remains before slowly standing up, clearly puzzled. A small crowd had begun to look over at where you stood, amongst the inner parts of the bionic puppet, and Alhaitham contemplated joining them. At the very least, he'd be able to talk to you.

That's when he notices you making your way out of the crowd and towards the winding pathway that lead up to the Akademiya. With a small smile, he tosses a few coins on the table and briskly makes his way to your destination, delighted at the prospect of seeing you again. Exhilarated that you were finally coming to him first.

One week would have been far too short a stay, anyways. After your first trip here, he realized he had to take things into his own hands if he wanted things to go anywhere. Cute as you were, you didn't seem to take to him as well as he'd hoped. With Katheryne in this state, you'd have to remain here for much longer than you initially planned, with all the work it'd take to wait for your supplies, put her back together, write up a report...and all of this so far was merely to extend your stay and buy him some time. He has other plans to completely ensnare you in his trap, involving manipulated footage and a concerned letter to your cooperation. Lucky him, too, that he had a house spacious enough for you to stay in when you inevitably would come asking him for help.

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

[serenescribe]

Bit of an odd request but I was listening to a bit of music and I was hit by an idea-

Idk if you know the tale of the Snow Queen, but essentially snow queens powerful ice mirror shatters, all but two pieces are recovered. One shard lands in a boys eye making him turn icey and Queen snatched him up.

However consider- Snow King Silver dragging a “mortal” who has a piece of something that was his. Unaware said “mortal” is actually a fae whose intrigued by this King’s combination of harshness yet tenderness.

the snow prince Twisted Wonderland | 3.9k Summary: A mysterious spell afflicts one Lilia Vanrouge, encasing his heart in frigid cold. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51960883

FREED FROM UNI, I AM! I actually had this written for a while, but put off posting it to save it for a more appropiate season. I really love Snow Queen retellings and AUs, so this was a LOT of fun to write! Thank you, Olive! :D

(An aside: There are extremely minor spoilers for TWST CH7 in here; they're all under the cut and mentioned in passing. If you're trying to avoid every little detail of CH7, I'd suggest passing up on this!)

In the heat of a sweltering summer that sweeps Briar Valley like a storm, Lilia feels a prick of something sharp enter his eyes.

It happens so fast, so swiftly, that had Lilia not been one of the fair folk, he likely would not have noticed it at all. If he were a human, for example, with their sluggish reflexes and oblivious tendencies, lacking a natural affinity for magic in comparison to the fae, Lilia would have chalked up the prick in his eye to a stray lash falling in, rubbing around until he feels as though he’s flicked it out before moving on with his day.

But Lilia is not human. He is fae.

He knows, at once, despite trying and failing to dig out whatever it is that has entered his eye, that it is not a stray lash or a speck of dust. There is a strange magic emanating off of the tiny sharp splinter, an aura he picks up on in an instant. It’s peculiar, the way it makes him shudder as he brushes against it, the sensation likened to the cold of a dead winter. It is unlike anything he has ever felt before.

But gradually, Lilia has to put a pause on his efforts. He is out on a journey to meet with humans for talks of peace, for their centuries-long wars are slowly crawling to an end. His soldiers look at him in concern, clicking their tongues as they ask him, “General, are you alright? Do we need to stop for a while?”

“I am fine,” Lilia says, waving his hand in dismissal. “I simply got something in my eye, is all.”

It is not wrong to say that, for it is not a lie at all. But Lilia knows as well as anyone else that the strange prick of magic infesting his eye warrants further inspection.

Later, he tells himself, as they continue on with their journey on horseback, for the stalemate in their war has allowed for easier travel through ways of steed.

Time ticks by, the lazy heat of summer dipping into the beginnings of a chilly autumn. But despite the changing seasons, the months that have passed since that fateful summer day, Lilia comes no closer to discovering what it is that ails him so deeply.

He is not oblivious to the changes occurring to him; quite the opposite, in fact. Lilia has carried about him a strange self-awareness about his shifting attitude, only realising the differences in how he’s been acting when he reflects on the changes in hindsight. He’s never exactly been the pinnacle of warmth, and especially not after his beloved friends died, but he’s always held a fondness in his heart for the few he opens up to — namely his second in command, Baul Zigvolt, and the young heir to the throne and son of his deceased friend, Malleus Draconia.

But now?

Lilia stifles a sigh as he reminisces, trudging through the gardens of the castle. The leaves are shifting to warm hues, leaves fluttering in shades of vermillion red and golden yellow, and the fallen leaves give a satisfying crunch when his boots stomp into them.

He exhales, twisting his lips as he raises his head up to the world around him. It looks as it always has, Lilia knows that well. And yet… something about it has felt different since that day.

Everything has begun to feel… boring. Banal and bland at best, wickedly ugly at worst. The crunch of the leaves irritates his ears, the drought of the autumn air makes his nose feel too sore. He turns his nose up at the food the castle staff serve, wrinkling his nose at the pungent smell of a dish he used to love, and he turns down whoever offers him a mug of beer, the foam that guzzles over the rim leaving his hands sticky and gross.

Lilia knows he’s changing. It’s not just his emotions, but also in the way he sees the world — everything is so intimately different in the worst way, and every waking hour he spends feels like a chore, an obligation he drags himself through. Where he used to spend time with Baul and his fellow men, or with Malleus most of all, being the one to raise him since he hatched, he now spends it all… alone.

But knowing something logically is different from knowing it emotionally. There are only so many apologies he can force out with his insincere tongue, schooling his expression into a facsimile of sincere regret. At the end of the day — of each day — Lilia truly feels nothing at all except the vacant void of a howling gelidity, frostbite nipping through his very veins.

At the very least, his men have respected this change, regardless of how perplexed they seem to be. Baul had pulled him aside once or twice to ask if he was feeling fine, but had he not been so preoccupied with his daughter’s sudden interest in the Valley’s newest dentist, a peculiar human who’d chosen to move here, of all places, he would have surely pressed the matter further.

On the other hand…

“Lilia!”

He sucks in a breath at the sound of that familiar voice. Once, it had lightened his heart to be greeted to such a cry upon returning to the castle from one of his many campaigns. But now?

“Hello, Malleus,” Lilia greets, making a deliberate effort to soften his voice as he turns to greet the young prince. Malleus has grown a great deal since he first hatched, now towering slightly above Lilia. Still, the boy has an inclination for continuing to call out to him childishly — something that had endeared Lilia in times past, but now only serves to irritate him by no fault of Malleus at all. “Is there something you require of me?”

“Not require, per se,” Malleus answers, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He toys with the chain of his cloak with one hand. “I was merely hoping that you could spare the time to join me today for some tea. It has been quite a while, after all. I understand you’ve been busy as of late, but you do not appear to have anything on today, so I thought—”

“You’re rambling again.” Abruptly, Malleus’ mouth snaps shut. Lilia winces internally at his misstep; why had he interrupted the prince like that, in so cold a tone? He sighs. “Apologies. I have been under… a great deal of stress recently.”

“It is no matter, Lilia.”

Well that’s good, at least, Lilia thinks. Averting his gaze, he says, “Unfortunately, I do not believe I can join you today.”

A pause.

“Truly?” He hears it, the surprise in Malleus’ voice, mixing in with a forlorn misery. “I was certain that you had nothing to do today, given your schedule…”

“I—” Pressing his lips together, Lilia thinks before he says, rather stiffly, “It is true that I may not have anything on. But I would like some time to myself if you would be so kind, my prince.”

Ah, another slip up of his. To refer to Malleus by his title rather than his name… the gap between them only widens, and the only reason why Lilia worries about it is because he fears that he may go too far, say the wrong thing when it’s far too late to take anything back. But what’s done is done; Lilia raises his head in time to see Malleus recoil, hurt glimmering in those chartreuse eyes of his.

If Lilia stays longer… will he continue to mess up so miserably?

Before Malleus can speak, Lilia cuts in. “If there is nothing else that requires my attention,” he says, “I would like to return to my walk. Good day, Malleus. Give my regards to the queen.”

And, abruptly, he turns on his heels and leaves.

Oh, Lilia knows that Malleus is displeased. He knows it because, within mere moments, there is a gentle flutter of snow wafting down from the skies. He raises his head, blinking up at the fluttering snowflakes — so delicate and fragile, a byproduct of the prince’s tumultuous emotions, his magic far too powerful for him to properly handle when his emotions explode past his limits.

And yet, when he sets his eyes upon the swirling snow, Lilia feels…

Something.

He raises a hand, watching a snowflake land on his finger — so tiny, so delicate, an eight-pointed speck weaved into such an elegant pattern. It melts almost instantly against the warm flush of his skin — and yet, Lilia is transfixed, mouth parting slightly as he steps back, watching as the snow begins to flurry down faster and faster, cascading through the skies. How long has it been since he’d felt anything other than such apathy, such revulsion, such irritation and disgust? Now, Lilia only feels a sense of childlike wonder.

When was the last time he stopped to stare at the snow as it fell? He cannot remember. Has he ever stopped to observe it like this? Or had war stripped away such inconsequential pastimes from his life?

Lilia does not know how long he wanders around, watching the snowflakes dance until he goes numb, so numb with the cold. He only knows that his fingers are frozen and his lips are blue when he finally returns to the castle in a daze, barely cognisant of the way his entire body is battered, pushed past the natural limitations of his faerie strength.

Winter crashes into Briar Valley like an enemy ambush, a sudden attack spurned from the shadows of nothingness. It is the worst winter they have had in an eternity, everyone says, peering outside the frost-tinted windows as they bask within the toasty walls of the castle grounds; the fire-spells keep everyone warm for as long as they stay inside.

With the thick layers of snow barring any method of safe travel, the ongoing talks of their peace treaties with the humans have been temporarily suspended — more for the children of men’s sakes than that of the fae. If she so willed it, Queen Maleficia could wash away the snow with a flick of her wrist, but such matters, in her opinion, are trivial; nature is not something to be fixed at an instant, so why should she expend her energy for such things?

So during those days, cooped up within the castle walls with little to do, Lilia winds up lounging in the cushioned nook of a window, a little alcove tucked away in a winding tower towards the murky corners of the castle. Few fae ever roam here, save for a scant few servants pattering about cleaning the dusty hallways, and Lilia spends many languid hours with his head pressed against the cool glass, so intensely transfixed on the dancing snowflakes outside.

They are beautiful. Perhaps they are the last bits of perfection he shall ever witness in his life.

He has found no information about the shard that pricked his eye, nor has he found any sort of cure. Lilia has spent many a month searching, sifting through the treasure trove of books in the castle’s library to no avail. He had, at one point, considered going to the queen and telling her of his predicament — “In the month of summer, I believe a magical spell of some kind has afflicted my eye.” — but his own apathy stops him every time; there is simply no point in dragging others into this matter, not because Lilia does not wish to trouble them, but because, try as he might, the larger part of him just doesn’t care.

So, with his head pressed against the cold glass, Lilia closes his eyes and sighs.

The winter solstice is approaching, the longest night of the year. As nocturnal fae, creatures of the night, it is a joyous cause for celebration for their kind. Despite the blizzard that rages across the Valley night and day, many servants, guardsmen, people of their kingdom have been looking forward to the events; the castle town shall be open to all, shielded from the elements. All fae, young and old, can look forward to a night of dancing and festivities, dining on the finest food at the banquets, and celebrating the longevity of the night.

In years past, Lilia would have looked forward to it. But now, like everything else in his life, he feels nothing at all.

“Lilia? Are you here?”

He stifles a groan at the sound of Malleus’ voice. Again and again, the boy continues to scour for him, to seek him out and spend time with him. Lilia tries to indulge him, he really does! But each occasion spent together, needing to force himself to fake sincerity the whole way through — “Oh yes, Malleus, I would like to try the new blend of tea! Thank you kindly for the offer. How is your grandmother doing? I heard she has spent some time with you as of late—”

He can’t stand it. He can’t. It gets harder and harder with each passing day, the chill that permeates his skin sinking deeper and deeper, turning his heart into one carved of ice. His eye prickles with pain whenever he grits his teeth in a false smile; across the table from him, the young prince looks detestable, a selfish beast with far too much time, uncaring of what his servants are subjected to in their indulgence of him.

So he avoids him. As soon as Lilia hears him, he flicks his wrist, a swell of magic surrounding him. Bat-formed, Lilia takes to the rafters, huddling away in the corners of the ceiling as he listens to Malleus come and go. It is only when he hears that familiar voice fading away that he dares to leave, flapping his little wings as he makes a break for another isolated corner of the labyrinthian castle.

The day of the winter solstice arrives, and with it comes the worst blizzard the valley has ever seen.

Cold winds lash against the fortifications of the castle, howling and rattling. Snow crashes from the sky, piling higher and higher upon the dead ground. And yet the castle is alight with the buzz of festivities — the many servants bustle about, wrapping up the last of their preparations, ensuring the banquet is ready with food for all, that the decor floats about in place, that the spells wrapping the castle and its town in a bubble of warmth remain solidly intact.

Throughout the day, Lilia sticks to the shadows, hovering out of sight. Today he feels… he doesn’t know how to describe it. Cold and dead as usual, his heart no longer the warm, affectionate thing it was before — but beneath the thick layers of apathy, there is something nestled beneath: the barest twitch of a muscle, a flutter of something. Lilia finds himself distracted with it the entire day as he meanders about, waiting for the clock to tick to a point when the festivities can start.

And when they do begin, the many residents of the valley teleporting into the castle en masse… Oh, how does Lilia even begin to describe them? Laughter rings freely, the merry melody of music from a string band sweeping the air as dancers circle across the floor. Wine glasses clink as people toast to prosperity and magic, hoping to see the weather ease up soon, and even the queen herself is out and about, walking amidst the crowd, a smile on her face as she mingles with the few faeries bold enough to approach her.

But Lilia—

He feels nothing watching all this. Nothing at all.

And yet… there is something else. That peculiar emotion buried underneath… it sings to him, calls to him, as though someone’s voice were tugging at a string. It only strengthens as the night goes on, likened to an unbearable itch; it is the first blissful thing he has felt in what feels like an eternity, and Lilia—

He misses it. He misses being able to love, to feel something other than apathy at best, and all these horrible, miserable emotions at worst — a repugnance, a rage, an irascibility that sparks every time someone tries to converse with him. Lilia misses being able to love freely, his heart softening as he grows older, brought on by the loss he’s experienced, and the love he mustered up to be able to raise Malleus into the man he is today.

So who can blame him for slipping off, for finding a way out of the castle grounds? Lilia answers the call, sneaking past guards who are far too drunk on wine, laughing and shouting as they play games at their stations. He does not bother with whisking up thick clothes for himself; Lilia merely plunges into the blizzard, battered at once by shrieking winds and a pelting of snow against his face, of a storm so deadly chilling that it would ravage even the strongest of faes.

And yet, he does not feel cold.

He grits his teeth as he presses on, dragging his legs through the thick boughs of snow. Lilia knows not how long it takes for him to trudge, only that it feels like forever — but he knows he is getting somewhere, because with each step he takes, the tugging in his chest grows and grows, the intensity of the emotion exciting him for the first time in months.

Is this the answer to his ailment?

Is there a cure tucked within the heart of the storm?

Lilia takes one step, and then another. He takes a third, and—

All at once, everything stops.

The wind dies away. The blizzard softens to a gentle snowfall. Little flakes of snow dance through the air as Lilia walks forward, head turning to and fro. How peculiar this is! He raises a hand, watching a flake fall into the open palm of his hand and rest there, and it is only the sound of hooves clumping against snow that snaps him out of his reverie.

Lilia turns his head, and sees a child.

A boy, who gazes at him with wide eyes that reflect the northern lights — auroras of shifting veins tinted shades of pink, purple, and blue, lights that Lilia has only gotten the chance to see once during a journey across the world. His hair sweeps across his forehead, locks of the purest silver as though spun from the nighttime stars, streaked with white like the pristine paleness of snow. He sits on a white stag, ice-spun crystals hanging from its glacial antlers, and around him is a fur-lined cloak and hood that swallows him whole, far too big for his tiny body.

Lilia’s breathing hitches—

Because the boy before him is the most beautiful thing he has seen in a long time.

“Hello,” the boy says after a while, a glimmering curiosity in those wide eyes of his. His mount trots forward, bringing him closer. “I’ve never seen you before,” he says, looking at Lilia closely.

At that, Lilia laughs. “I could say the same to you, little one.” He rests a hand on his hips, relishing in the joy, the curiosity, the emotions that flood him in full force; it has been so long! “It is a rare sight to see a young boy riding a stag in a storm like this.”

The boy’s face falls, and Lilia feels… worried. Did he upset him somehow? “I’ve been trying to stop the storm for a while now,” the boy explains, auroral eyes flicking to the storm that rages outside the bubble they’re within, continuing to ravage the valley to no end. “B-but it’s my first time really trying such a thing, and I don’t… really know how.”

Ah, Lilia thinks, finally coming to understand. A lost child. A boy with power over the very elements itself, who can control the season of cold and snow. And yet, who would place such responsibility upon a child, one so very young? He feels the fervent urge to lean in and coddle him, to reassure him that it’s alright, you’re trying your very best, I can help you if you just let me.

And why shouldn’t he do such a thing?

“I can help you, if you would like.”

In a flash, those pupils lock on him. “Would you?” the boy breathes. “I-I wouldn’t want to trouble you, mister—”

“It’s no trouble at all!” Lilia insists, stepping forward with a beaming smile on his face. He reaches out for the stag, feeling the beast nuzzle against the palm of his hand as he strokes it gently. Why should he return to the castle, to that unyielding, endless void of apathy and misery? Here, with the boy with eyes like the auroras and hair like the stars, Lilia feels something — the warm glow of parental affection, already growing so attached to such a young child.

“Then…” the boy mumbles, “would you come with me?”

Lilia only smiles. “Of course.”

And as he clambers onto the back of the steed, he asks, before they leave, one final question: “Pray tell, little one, what is your name?”

“My name?” the boy echoes, furrowing his brows. “I… I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

Lilia arches an eyebrow. What kind of a lonely life must this boy live, if he has not even considered his lack of a name? “Then would you mind if I gave you one?” he offers. Oh, it is such an incredibly forward move to suggest such a thing, with how important names are to his kind. But already, he is attached, his very soul bound to this child who gazes at him in wonder at the possibility of wielding his own name.

And the boy nods.

“Silver,” Lilia says, the name coming to him at once. Like the shine of the gleaming moon, the glitter of the stars, the wispy fall of the snow around them. Love blooms in his chest, the warmth cradling his very soul; Lilia curls his arms around the boy, his body so cold even through the chilling fabric of his cloak, pulling him against his chest into a hug. “That shall be your name.”

“Silver,” the boy echoes, testing it out on his tongue. He tilts his head back, a small smile gracing his rounded cheeks as he looks up at Lilia. “Thank you, mister. Could I ask what your name is?”

“It is Lilia, dear one,” he croons, relinquishing his name without a second thought. The two of them are bonded in mere moments, Lilia filled with a fulfilment he has not felt since that prick of a shard entered his eye.

There is nothing left for him here. That is what he tells himself as Silver leads them away, commanding his steed to take off into a prancing gallop, bursting from the tranquil heart of the storm into the raging blizzard, whisking them back to their home.

(Lilia fails to notice the figure that bursts through the clearing, chartreuse eyes widening in horror as a mouth parts to scream his name. He does not notice the horned boy who shivers in the cold, eyes wide as the wind whips at his long hair, watching the stag prance away, the boy who leads it ripping his guardian away from his grasp.)

[yuwumeniji]

Luxiem & "I Love You"'s

I love you the most!

WARNING: Please remember that I am writing about Luxiem based on their characters online and not of the people behind their vtuber avatars, thank you!

EXTRA NOTES: This is more of a general xreader type of fic! this is my first time writing something like this (especially with my lack of romantic encounters LMAO) so enjoy this little thing from someone who only knows what love is via otome game ;; also shhiiitttt i'm clearing my drafts a little, so this isn't proofread (i mean, what is?) and very short ^^ still, i hope this is enjoyable

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

MORE UNDER THE CUT!

IKE EVELAND

The type to rarely say "I Love You", but does make poems out of it

The way he says "I love you" is like written out of a book, he knows his scenarios well considering that he is a novelist

"Hey, so how much do you love Y/N?" "Well- (goes on for an eternity about how much he loves you)"

Has long ass monologues about his love for you and can't actually admit that in front of you

LUCA KANESHIRO

The type to always say "I Love You" even in mundane situations

He also shows his love physically

Sitting on the couch, letting you play with his hair or just being in each others arms while you are cooking in the kitchen - he'll always make sure to say something about how much he loves you

Hell, you could be arguing with him and he'll still find a way to say "I Love You"

MYSTA RIAS

Surprisingly says "I Love You" a lot, even though he'll act all pouty about it

He's a little bit tsundere about it because the thing is that he really loves and cherishes you with all his heart - saying "I Love You" isn't enough to express how much he feels for you

He does however, like teasing you, so he does say a "I Love You" every now and then to surprise you

Gotta keep you on your toes, you know

SHU YAMINO

Rarely says "I Love You", but whenever he does, it feels like it is the most meaningful thing in the world

He shows his affection in other ways outside of the verbal "I Love You" though, so there's that

In a sense, similar to mysta in the way that he thinks saying "I Love You" isn't enough to express how he feels

He's a little on the shy side - just a TL;DR

VOX AKUMA

Straight up says "I Love You" as often as he could; since his time is longer than a human's, he's afraid that he won't be able to say that phrase again the next morning.

Waking up in his arms? "I love you"

Bringing you a cup of your favourite drink while you're working? "I love you"

He would even find a way to say "I Love You" if you were shitting on the toilet

Because he truly does love and care for you. Rest assured that you'll be loved for as long as you lived

[zenonaa]

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

Tofu!

[ao3]

Byakuya glares at his all-electric Toyota that should be fully charged and ready to go. Instead it sits in his driveway, refusing to switch on despite working perfectly well the night before. Fixing it shouldn’t be an issue. Though he isn’t a former Super High School Level Mechanic with pointed teeth and cheap hair dye, he knows a fair bit about the inner workings of vehicles. He ran a secondhand automobile business as a preteen, where not only did he sell used cars but fixed them too. In fact, he even taught employees and customers how to repair them. This had been for one of the conglomerate's challenges for choosing an heir, then once he had completed the task, he sold the business to some locals who continued to run it for quite some time afterwards.

The business only became defunct when the world almost ended.

However, while Byakuya could try to repair his car and probably would succeed, he is donning a clean work suit and is due at his job in twenty minutes.

“Togami-chi!” lilts a familiar voice.

A car trundles to a stop on the road perpendicular to Byakuya's driveway. From the driver’s seat, Yasuhiro beams at him, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles.

“What are you standing around for? Let me guess. Enjoying the morning dew?”

“Do I look like I’m enjoying myself?” says Byakuya, scowling.

Yasuhiro squints. Adjusts his spectacles. “Uh...”

“My car isn’t starting,” says Byakuya bluntly.

“Did you charge it?”

“Of course I did,” snaps Byakuya. “There shouldn’t be anything wrong with it.”

Yet it won't start up at all. He shoots it a frosty look.

“Cars break down for all sorts of reasons. Electronics failure, motor corrosion...” Yasuhiro counts off his fingers. “The all-mighty Indra has the flu...”

Byakuya’s lips almost disappear into his mouth as he purses them.

“No matter. I can work from home,” says Byakuya, even if he prefers to teach his students in person. Less distractions. Better internet connection. Decent coffee.

Yasuhiro waves a hand. “No need for that. I'll give you a lift, ‘right?”

A single furrow dents Byakuya’s brow while Yasuhiro's car is dented in several places. Not including its owner, it’s a car only Columbo could love. Whatever’s wrong with the suspension means the car seems to lurch every time it goes over a pebble. As he stares at it, Byakuya half-expects the tires to roll off in different directions and the vehicle to suddenly be enveloped in a ball of flames.

It’s in Byakuya’s best interest to refuse. He cups his chin. Then again, not only would he rather be physically at the school than teaching his students from home, he has also been looking forward to lunch today.

“... Fine,” says Byakuya. “I accept.”

A wide grin spreads across Yasuhiro’s face. “I knew you’d come around. Hop on in!”

But when Byakuya heads toward the front passenger seat, Yasuhiro waves his hands frantically.

“Sorry, dude! That door won’t open. And I, uh, need to clean that seat anyway. I got some ketchup stains on it... You know what burgers are like.”

Byakuya had thought he knew what burgers were like, having even eaten his first one two years ago. Since meeting Yasuhiro, however, he isn’t so sure about them. Like how he isn’t so sure he should get into Yasuhiro’s car. His fists clench at his sides as he reminds himself that he would prefer to be physically present at the school, that he has survived much more hazardous situations than this, and he has really been looking forward to today’s lunch.

So long as he makes it there alive, anyway.

Squaring his shoulders, Byakuya forces himself into the back of the car. The stitching on the seats frays in some places, puckers in others, but is surprisingly clean. Like it has recently been washed. He can see moisture on the windows and a few crumbs on the floor, but overall, the interior isn't too horrific. Somewhat cramped, but dare he say tolerable.

And it’s just a ten minute journey. Yasuhiro glows.

“All righty.” The car rattles as Yasuhiro puts it into gear. “We’ll be on our way to Hope’s Peak in no time... just as soon as we collect Fukawa-chi.”

Byakuya's brow crinkles. “What?”

The car jerks forward, jolting Byakuya. With a grimace, he settles into his seat as best he can and looks out of the window. Touko only lives down the road, so it won't eat up too much of his time. He is slightly surprised that Yasuhiro is giving her a lift to work, though. Other than Makoto and Byakuya, Touko doesn't usually feel comfortable enough to accept rides alone with men.

The car soon stops, spluttering as it does so. Byakuya and his fellow killing game survivors used to live on Hope's Peak’s campus, but after it was sufficiently rebuilt, they moved into some modest housing in a street across the city. Even if the school is quite different now, none of them can stomach living there full-time, permanently.

He folds his arms over his chest. Drums his fingers.

“We'll pop Fukawa-chi in the back next to you,” says Yasuhiro. “Won't it be nice to see her again?”

“I saw her yesterday.” Byakuya glowers. “You know I don't like being late.”

Yasuhiro laughs. “You won't be late. She'll be out any minute now, ‘right?”

Touko’s house resembles the others on the street for the most part, two stories with a window embedded in its slanted roof. The garden is what makes her home recognisable, with long grass, wildflowers throughout and log piles. When the front door opens, Byakuya’s eyes draw toward the movement, and out comes Touko. Her single braid bounces as she hurries down the path.

His eyebrows raise a tad. She seems oddly eager to get into Yasuhiro’s car.

“Good morning, Fukawa-chi!” Yasuhiro says as she slips into the back of the car.

Touko doesn't spare Yasuhiro a glance. “Good morning, Byakuya-sama!”

She must have spotted Byakuya from her window. That explained why she came over to Yasuhiro’s car so enthusiastically. Though, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had known of Byakuya’s arrival without having to look outside. There must be some logical explanation, but she has an almost uncanny ability to know when he’s nearby... something he has somehow gained over the years.

Probably just intuition. Yes.

“Good morning,” says Byakuya before curling his lip in disdain. “Is that everyone, Hagakure? Or are you carpooling the whole street today?”

“Just you two,” Yasuhiro replies. “Next stop, work!”

The car emits a grinding noise that Byakuya doesn’t think cars should make, then they’re on the move. Byakuya stares out of the window again and tightens his lips. Without needing to look at Touko, he knows she’s staring at him. He can imagine her unblinking grey eyes, her chapped lips smile. The mole by her mouth. By now, he's very familiar with the sight of her. Understandable. They see each other inside and outside of work.

“Anyone want music?” asks Yasuhiro.

“No,” Byakuya and Touko say in unison.

Yasuhiro flicks the car radio on. The song begins with almost-immediate dialogue, a woman speaking in English about having rotten judgement. Within a few lines, the tempo picks up and a backing choir joins in. Byakuya still doesn’t recognise the song, but he doesn’t care to know either. He checks his wristwatch. Despite the minor detour, they should still arrive on time.

“Have you ever seen Hercules, Togami-chi?” asks Yasuhiro.

“No, I haven’t seen the fictional son of the fictional god of sky and thunder,” says Byakuya.

“I mean the Disney movie! This song is in it. It’s when this chick called Meg doesn’t want to admit she’s fallen in love with Hercules, so these pretty goddess ladies try to coax her into embracing her feelings.”

Byakuya doesn’t recall asking him to elaborate.

“I’ve seen it,” Touko pipes up, fidgeting her hands. “I didn’t watch any Disney movies as a kid, but Komaru has shown me some... I really enjoyed M-Megara’s character. She resonated with me a lot.”

A character that’s similar to Touko isn’t what Byakuya would expect from that kind of mass media company. And from what he knows of Megara from Greek mythology, he can’t see the resemblance. He turns to her, curious. “Why is that?”

“You should totally watch it sometime, Togami-chi!” says Yasuhiro before Touko can reply. “You could get together with Fukawa-chi, sit on the couch, share some popcorn...”

Touko growls. “Don’t interrupt me!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Yasuhiro says, wincing.

She looks at Byakuya again. “The character, Megara... Her story in the movie is different to her usual depiction in Greek mythology. In the movie, s-she sold her soul to Hades in a deal to bring back her dead lover, only for him to fall in love with someone else. It left her jaded and unable to trust easily, until she met Hercules...”

“That is quite different,” replies Byakuya. “In Greek mythology, she’s gifted to Hercules by her father for winning a war. Then, while Hercules was under a spell of madness, he murdered their children and in many retellings slayed her as well.”

“He’s different in the movie. Much more... palatable. In the mythology, as you will know, with his third wife, Deianira, he was constantly unfaithful and abusive toward her, and h-he even...”

“Girl, don't be proud! It's okay you're in love!” Yasuhiro belts along with the radio, earning glares from both Byakuya and Touko.

The song peters out soon after and the next rolls on. It immediately starts with dialogue as well, in English again, but this time with goofy voices that Yasuhiro tries to imitate.

“I can see what’s happening, and they don’t have a clue. They'll fall in love, and here's the bottom line. Our trio's down to two.”

“Is this from that movie as well?” asks Byakuya.

“Nope. Still Disney, but Lion King this time,” says Yasuhiro.

Byakuya squints. “Are you playing a Disney CD?”

“Yep!”

“Do you have anything else we can listen to?”

“The CD tray won’t open. It’s jammed.”

Of course.

“Does your radio have an off switch?” asks Byakuya.

“Aw, it’s not that bad! Did you really not watch any Disney movies growing up, Togami-chi?”

“No, I didn’t. I was more interested in works by directors such as Shinya Tsukamoto and Seijun Suzuki.”

Touko, who had been listening and quietly twiddling her fingers, perks up. “E-Excellent taste, Byakuya-sama! And it’s thanks to you helping me overcome my fear of blood that I could recently watch one of Tsukamoto’s finest works.”

Byakuya knows exactly which she is referring to. The premise is that the main character had double vision that caused her to hallucinate doppelgangers who wanted to harm her child. He had recommended it to Touko, actually.

“That one was interesting, wasn’t it?” he says. “Mental health is still a rather taboo subject in this country. And you did well tolerating the graphic imagery, as her hallucinations about her son dying can get incredibly violent. There was also a lot of self-mutilation in it with the main character...”

“Indeed. But she did it for an unusual reason... She was fascinated by her body’s determination t-to stay alive. It was gruesome, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. It was strangely cathartic...”

“I thought you would enjoy it. You know, when I look at you, due to your alter, it’s as if I see two people that appear the same but are remarkably different... one being a serial killer, and the other of course being you.”

“Can you feel the love tonight?” warbles a woman’s voice.

“Hey, uh, it’s nice seeing you two get along and all, but let’s keep the tone light, ‘right?” says Yasuhiro, frowning.

Byakuya and Touko glare at him. It’s not that he’s wrong - over time, Byakuya has discovered that he and Touko share a number of interests, and their discussions can get quite deep and passionate. So yes, he and Touko can and do get along now, but he doesn’t need Yasuhiro to say that. Or to interrupt their discussion.

According to Byakuya’s wristwatch, they should reach Hope’s Peak in approximately five minutes. Only one, maybe two more songs can play within that time. Then Byakuya can leave the car, go into work, and finally...

“Uh oh,” Yasuhiro says loudly. “Traffic!”

Byakuya and Touko both look outside of the car and stiffen. Last time he checked, a mere minute ago, the road had been busy with just the usual morning traffic. Now motor vehicles pack them in on all sides and cram the road as far as he can see. They're all at a standstill.

“Huh. Is it the Pride Parade already?” asks Yasuhiro.

“That was last month,” says Byakuya. He scowls. “Idiot, we all went together, remember?”

“Welcome to the impromptu Sayaka Maizono Tribute Act!” booms a disembodied feminine voice. “Today would have been her early twenty something birthday... so to celebrate her life, we have taken over the city to play her songs all day! Let's kick things off with a classic... Let's Be In Together, Best Friend’!”

Obnoxious pop music blasts from outside of Yasuhiro's car. Touko shrieks, while Byakuya restrains himself to a shoulder twitch. For this supposedly being an impromptu event, the organisers seem to have fitted speakers throughout the city with remarkable speed. Around them, the other vehicles empty out as their occupants stand on their roofs and start dancing to the beat.

“This is unbelievable,” says Byakuya. “I'm walking the rest of the way.”

He tries to open the door, only for it to not budge. Hopefully it's just child lock, though he wouldn't be surprised if the door is broken.

“Unlock the door,” says Byakuya.

Yasuhiro shakes his head. “No can do, I’m afraid. It’s too wild out there, Togami-chi. And hot... Without the air con, you’d melt within seconds. This is for your own safety.”

As if on cue, the people outside start jumping and screaming. Touko yelps and hides her head under her arms, as if a group of hooligans will leap over to their car and start stomping on it too. It's peculiar how someone so strong, who had helped save a city, save the world, is cowering at ordinary nine-to-five workers dancing. Then again, Touko has always seemed to view the world in a unique way.

Touko is a peculiar person.

“In here, we’re safe. There’s nothing to worry about,” says Yasuhiro. Byakuya tears his gaze from the roof.

“We’re due at work very soon,” he reminds him in a tight voice.

“Ah.” Yasuhiro wags a finger. “That's where you're wrong. Check the teachers’ group chat.”

The smirk on Yasuhiro's face is unbearable. Byakuya pulls out his phone and swats at the screen until he brings up the aforementioned chat. Near the bottom is a message from Makoto Naegi.

‘Hi all, classes are cancelled today - there's a music event going on in the city centre and most of the students are bunking off to take part, so I figure we may as well officially have a day off today. Have fun!’

“What sort of headmaster is this?” Byakuya says in disbelief, staring at his phone.

“One who was a close friend of the person everyone’s celebrating, as well as the older brother of a fanatic Sayaker,” replies Touko.

“Look on the bright side, now you’re not going to be late,” says Yasuhiro, grinning widely. “You can stay here with me and Fukawa-chi without worry!”

Either Byakuya can brave trekking back home through the city in the heat, where it's congested and he risks being swept into a stampede, or continue to sit in Yasuhiro’s car.

“Tell me, princess. Now when did you last let your heart decide?” warbles the radio.

Byakuya starts pulling harder on the door handle. Yasuhiro twitches.

“Togami-chi! You’re gonna break my car!”

“And it’s not already falling apart?” Byakuya snaps.

A rare look of seriousness washes across Yasuhiro’s face.

“I see now... I know what’s happening.” Yasuhiro opens the sunroof. “You’re hungry. Tell you what. There’s a generic fast food restaurant nearby. I’ll grab us an early lunch before the midday rush. You two stay here and I’ll be right back. You can pay me back later.”

“Wait. Why are you able to leave but not me?” asks Byakuya.

Yasuhiro gives him a pitying look. “Togami-chi, I hate to break it to ya, but you look like the sort of person that people would want to rob.”

“What?”

Without another word, Yasuhiro climbs out through the sunroof. The car shakes a bit as he clomps across the bonnet before jumping off. Then he disappears into the crowd, leaving Byakuya and Touko alone in the car together.

“The only person who has been robbed is me, as you've stolen my heart,” says Touko, placing a hand over her heart.

Byakuya’s eyes roll. “If I possessed your heart, you would be dead.”

As quick as a cat, Touko clasps her hands together and says, “Ah... that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

 “I died, and so I am in heaven...”

Some people have the nerve to clap back at him. Others just have the capability. Few possess both qualities. In the past, Byakuya would have dismissed her as being stupid or delusional, but he has come to acknowledge, almost admire, her responses.

He clicks his tongue. With the sunroof open, music pours in from outside, a song called ‘Girls Are Yummy.’ It meshes with the off-key singing of the audience, and the radio's tune.

“That fool left the sunroof open,” says Touko, squinting upward.

“And he left the radio on,” adds Byakuya.

If he's going to be detained in Yasuhiro’s car for some time, he may as well try to make himself more comfortable. He leans over between the front seats. First, he locks the car, in case someone tries to drag him out and get him to join in the celebrations. Then he focuses on the sunroof and radio. Though he succeeds in shutting the sunroof, which only slightly muffles the noise that had been pouring in from outside, the radio doesn't respond to any of his button presses.

This goes beyond the CD tray being jammed. Frowning, he stretches over to take the keys out of the ignition, but the music continues even then.

“What...?”

Without the engine on, the radio shouldn’t be able to play anything. Yet it is. After a few more attempts at pressing on the radio, Byakuya stops shy of punching it, instead returning the key so they can have air con again and withdrawing back.

His weight shifts. He wobbles. Falls backward. And onto Touko's lap.

“Yes, you want her. Look at her, you know you do. Possible she wants you too. There is one way to ask her,” sings the radio.

“I was enjoying the view before, but I think I prefer this side of you,” says Touko, smirking.

Byakuya’s face burns. “You need to watch your mouth.”

“Do I? We’re finally alone,” says Touko, undeterred. “Now that oaf’s gone.”

She isn’t wrong.

“Nobody’s paying us any attention,” she says, with a smile that sends a shiver down him. “They’re all engrossed in the event.”

That smile used to repulse him. Used to make his skin crawl, his stomach flutter. He supposes her smile still has that effect on him, but now he doesn't mind the sensation so much. Dare he say he might even like it. Enough that he brushes some hair from her face and tucks it behind her ear so he can see the curve of her lips better.

“In that movie by Tsukamoto, despite the danger of being around the main character, her guardian angel loves her and lets her use him as a punching bag,” says Touko.

“Perhaps he is just a figment of her imagination?” he suggests lightly, his hand resting on her cheek still.

Touko hums. “He could be real.”

“You referred to him as a guardian angel.”

“That’s not a contradiction.”

Byakuya clicks his tongue, looking at her while she looks at him. When her smile widens, he smiles back slightly.

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la. Float along and listen to the song. The song say kiss the girl,” the radio warbles. 

It wouldn’t have mattered if a different song had been playing, or if the radio had been silent. Byakuya still would have leaned in, and their lips still would have met. His eyes flutter shut. Keeping his hand on her cheek, his other holds her upper arm. Their mouths lock together, slowly enough that the movement doesn’t disturb their glasses. He can’t see her, and with the cacophony going on all around them, he can barely hear her either, barely hear her quiet mewls and hitches of breath. But he can feel her fingers curl in his hair, feel her body press closer. A hand lands on his thigh. And he can feel her warmth.

When his head draws back slightly, his lips tingle. Hers remain puckered.

“I suppose it’s not too bad being here after all,” he remarks quietly. To think he would be saying this in Yasuhiro Hagakure’s car. Or while surrounded by fevered idol fans. But Touko has always been an anomaly. When others defy him, his spit becomes acid. Yet when she stands her ground, he places his feet by hers. “Though I’m surprised you accepted a lift from Hagakure this morning. I thought Naegi and I were the only guys you felt comfortable being in a car alone with.”

“That’s still true...” Touko squirms a bit. “I would have declined if he hadn’t said he was giving you a lift because your car wouldn’t start.”

That makes Byakuya flinch.

“Byakuya-sama?” she says, confused.

“That can’t be right,” he tells her. “Hagakure stumbled upon me when my car was refusing to start. Then after I got in the car, he said he was on his way to collect you...”

Byakuya looks away from her, as if expecting the car’s interior to grow teeth and crush them. For a trap, any trap, to be revealed. Instead, he spots Yasuhiro, whose grinning face is pressed against the window. Soon after, Touko notices him too and shrieks. Yasuhiro jolts back with a scream.

“Hagakure!” Byakuya seethes while Touko disentangles herself from him. Both are equally flustered. He could ask Yasuhiro how long he was there for, but right now he’d rather not know. “Explain yourself. How were you able to tell Fukawa you were giving me a lift to work this morning before I told you that my car had broken down?”

“I... um...” Yasuhiro tries to smile again. “I have good intuition?”

“I will phone your mother in precisely three seconds if you don’t explain yourself.”

“No! Anything but that!” Yasuhiro squeezes his hands together, trembling. “Okay, so I might have loosened the battery terminal before you went out this morning... but I did so with good intentions! You and Fukawa-chi were about to get together and kiss just now, ‘right? I’m doing you a favour.”

Byakuya stares at him, wide-eyed. A few seconds later, his brow furrows.

“Idiot,” he says. “We’ve been dating for five months.”

Yasuhiro’s head jerks back. “Huh?”

Touko’s initial shock at seeing him quickly melts. She shoots a fiery glare his way.

“W-Weren’t you paying attention when Byakuya-sama announced our new relationship status at lunch five months ago?” she asks.

“I think I was going through a phase with a certain mobile game and must have missed him saying it,” says Yasuhiro, scratching his head. 

“We’ve held hands on multiple occasions,” says Byakuya. “We’ve kissed in your presence.”

Yasuhiro clicks his fingers.

“Oh yeah. That’s right, I remember now. Well, anyway, I brought lunch.” He tries to open the door. “Can you let me back in please?”

“No,” says Byakuya. “You wanted us to be alone in here, so we’ll give you your wish.”

“And we don’t need any of your shitty food either. We h-have the lunch I made for myself and Byakuya-sama to enjoy,” adds Touko.

“Hey, I put a lot of effort into setting this all up!” Yasuhiro shoves his paper bag containing fast food against the car window. “I had to prove my loyalty to the Official Sayakers Fan Club by buying a year's membership, then I had to get a tattoo on my butt before they’d hear my idea out on their reddit. Also, it’s my car!”

Only Yasuhiro would think that would endear himself to anyone in any way. Byakuya wishes he was in the driver’s seat so he could run Yasuhiro over. Except there’s too much traffic to move the car even if he wanted to. Traffic that Yasuhiro created with his pointless scheme.

“Scram!” says Byakuya.

“Ignore him, darling.” Touko touches a hand to his cheek and turns his head toward her. “Or would it help if I distracted you?”

Before he can think of a reply, her lips soar up and latch onto his. A shiver washes through Byakuya, tingling in his extremities. He’s fully aware that Yasuhiro can see them, and though Yasuhiro has seen them kiss before, this feels different somehow. Like being in this enclosed space means what they’re doing should be totally private. Yet when she pushes him onto his back and lies on top of him, he has no desire to break free. And when her tongue kneads at the divide between his lips, he grabs her behind with one hand and opens his mouth.

If Yasuhiro likes movies so much, Byakuya will give him a full goddamn performance.

“No! Please!” Yasuhiro bangs on the window. “Not on the seats! I only just got them cleaned from when I tried this with Naegi-chi and Kirigiri-chi last week!”

[dudewotheck]

writing prompt - kara and lenas first date goes wrong on so many levels.

@catwoman33100 thank u for this prompt, this was hilarious to visualize, hope u like

After finally, finally mustering up the courage to ask Lena out, and receiving a shy but vehement yes in return, Kara had settled on what she feels is a good and balanced plan for their first date - after she insisted that she’d take care of setting it up.

A picnic. Simple and intimate. Not at the local park downtown, no, at the regional one with a lot less foot traffic a little outside of the city. It’s scenic, with creeks and trees scattered all over - she’s actually been meaning to go check it out again after she chased down a bad guy through its landscape a couple months back. Not to mention, Kara sees the opportunity to finally showcase her food-making abilities (which are way better than her baking ones) remembering Lena saying something about how much she loves a good pasta salad. She just so happens to have a go-to recipe for that, amongst other things.

Kara gives her a time to be a ready, and a dress code (comfy-outsidey, in verbatim) revealing nothing else for the sake of a lovely, heartfelt surprise. She throws on her nicest pair of khaki shorts and a tank top/button up combo, gently arranges all the food stuffs into a cooler, checks the time and flies off to Lena’s balcony, goods in hand.

She’s already standing outside waiting for her when she lands, smiling so blindingly bright at her as she touches down. Lena’s got on similar shorts to hers, but her top is a light colored blouse that perfectly contrasts her own dark button up. The only thought that goes through her head is that Lena looks so pretty. That being said-

“You look so pretty.” Kara states wistfully, completely bypassing a proper greeting.

Lena chuckles, graciously taking the flowers. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself, handsome.” She says quietly. They stand there blushing and bashful for a few moments before Lena decides to do some questioning, eyes falling on the cooler. “So, what do you have in store for me, miss Zor-el?”

Kara fawns at the use of her Kryptonian name, opening her arm that’s not carrying the cooler. “Grab on and you’ll find out.” With a raised eyebrow, Lena walks forward and wraps her arms around broad shoulders, Kara’s arm closing in around her. They’ve flown together like this a few times already to get to whatever destinations, and despite Lena’s distaste for heights, it’s a lot different for her when she’s flush against a warm, toned body. Kara takes off grinning to herself. Hopefully Lena’s impressed with this.

The first blunder happens 2 1/2 minutes into their 3 minute long flight, when they hit a patch of icy air that causes Lena to dig her nails into Kara’s back. The sensation startles her just enough to lose grip of the cooler, sending it spiraling to the ground below. The drinks, the pasta salad made with love, gone in an instant. There was even a hidden bouquet of sunflowers in there that she was gonna give to her.

“Kara, it’s okay. I’m actually glad it was the cooler and not me.” Lena tries to console her while they’re in line at her favorite sandwich place.

“But Lena, I made it for you - and, and there were flowers-“

The second blunder happens after they’ve taken their newly bought food to the park, finding a cool and secluded picnic table under a tree to set up at. Right as Lena is about to take her first bite, guess what happens? A bird. And its excrement. Perfectly placed on her sandwich.

It takes Kara a solid 5 minutes to convince her to take hers. She had a big breakfast anyway- ( a lie, she hadn’t eaten a bite of anything the whole day).

The third blunder happens when they’re walking alongside one of the creeks, and Kara spots a frog on her secret quest for wildflowers. “Oh! Oh wow! Lena, look-“ She takes a few steps toward it. “It’s a fr-“ And promptly trips over a rock and tumbles directly into the muddy stream of water before she can consciously do anything about it. So much for superpowers.

The fourth blunder comes seconds after, when Kara remembers herself and flings her body out of the water with haste, wiping mud off of her face as she accidentally bumps into a nearby tree. There’s a thud, and a buzzing sound, and then - oh. It’s a beehive.

There’s already screaming as she registers everything.

Wait, did Lena say that one time that she’s allergic?

A couple minutes later, at the DEO due to Lena’s insistence of ‘not wanting to be photographed like this’, Alex is being frantically greeted by a muddy, disheveled sister and a blotchy Luthor with still forming hives. “What the fuck happened you guys oh my god-“

“Bees. Lots of them. Antihistamines. Now.” Kara sounds like she’s hyperventilating.

“It’s a mild allergy darling, please relax.” Lena says, completely unconcerned with her own situation. “I’m going to be fine.” She pats Kara on her damp back as she heaves panicked breaths. “I didn’t think I’d need an epi-pen today-“ She adds on in a whisper.

Alex is back with the medicine within a minute and Kara is still working on her breathing. “What the hell were you guys doing to end up like this - hunting down Sasquatch?”

Kara and Lena speak at the same time. “First date.”

…

“WHAT-“

[amethystpath-writes]

Test Me

NOT A PR0MPT

Hi! I was wondering if u could do a bit where the hero breaks into the villains mansion/layer to get some plans or something but the plans are in the villains ✨bedroom ✨and the villain is in the ✨shower ✨ and they catch the hero. A little ✨spicy ✨ u know? If u don’t want to do this I completely understand no pressure! Thxxxxxx😁

Mm. If you were honest about wanting the spice, I promise you are going to soak this up. Not explicit, but quite easily suggestive. Hide your phones. If you think you shouldn’t read it 🤷‍♀️ then don’t.

******

A lockpick, a desk, and a disk drive. Hero’s team had gathered the information on Villain’s base; now it was up to Hero to gather the plans hidden within. It was right in front of her- a sparkling silver lock just waiting to be sprung by deft hands- her hands.

"I wish you would have broken in sooner. I would have asked you to join me."

“It’s what I was here for,” Hero blurted, and she hadn’t even bothered to look at him as she hid her hand behind her back. Looking away from the locked drawer, though, she found herself losing her breath. “I-I wanted to see you.” Not like this, she wanted to elaborate, but…hell, she couldn’t think.

Villain was in a towel- and only a towel.

Maybe if he thought she were interested in him, then she might make it out alive. Would he kill her? Hero wasn’t sure.

Regardless, this was much more of Villain than what she had wanted to see, and she didn’t know what to do.

“I have something to tell you,” she played on.

“You want me to believe you came here to confess feelings?” Villain laughed and smiled something toothy and arrogant. “I wish I could believe you, Hero, but here’s the truth: you wouldn’t know what to do if I returned your flirtations.”

“I’m sure I would,” Hero insisted. “Test me.”

Somehow, Villain’s smile became wider, more cunning, more handsome, more capable of making Hero regret being here. “Oh, I don’t think you want that.” He spoke in a rasp, one challenging and impossible to ignore.

“What makes you think I can’t take it?” Even she noticed her own voice shake. “Is it because I’m the quiet one, only there to do everyone’s dirty work? I can’t have my own interests and explorations, Villain?” Anything to invite her stay, to give her time to initiate a plan B.

He hummed politely. “Fine, then. What would you do if I told you that that sneaky little outfit flatters you? That black exemplifies those gorgeous curves, and harshens the edges of your cheeks?”

Her cheeks, as Villain had pointed out, now grew pink, though surely in the dark he couldn’t see that. At least, she desperately hoped not.

No one ever paid her compliments. She was quiet and reserved, and she did her job. She was nothing interesting, nothing worth complimenting, and nothing to waste a breath on. That was what she told herself anyway. But here Villain was, standing half-naked with nothing but a towel, telling her how pretty she appeared to him…even if it were only a lie to toy with her.

He could say nothing else that would fluster her more. Or so she thought.

“What if I told you how badly I wanted to grab that wrist from behind your back, walk you into that wall, and pin your hands above your head? That I wanted to make you beg- not for your life, but for something better? What would you do, Hero? Would you take me up on the offer if I told you it wasn’t too late?” He stepped towards her, and she felt herself taking a step back to match.

Suddenly, Hero wasn’t afraid he might kill her. She was afraid of the tingle in her brain and the way that the lockpick in her hand felt slick in her fingers.

She needed to focus. If she wasn’t careful, she would drop the pick, and ruin any chance of getting what she needed. Not that she could open the lock in front of Villain, but maybe if she gained a say in this…this interrogation…then she could distract him. She could ask for a drink! A glass of red wine- wasn’t that a flirtatious beverage? And while he left to get her a drink, Hero would unlock the desk, take the drive, and leave.

But before she could ask, Villain continued in his taunts. “What if I told you that naked would flatter your body even more? That it’d have been stunning plastered against my shower wall? And ohh, that hair,” he sighed with closed eyes. “How beautiful it would look- dark, and damp with steam.” He took another step, then another. Before Hero could even think to count the footsteps, the cloth of her black sweater made her skin itch. Her back was against the wall. “Sweetheart, your head wouldn’t even touch the water before I ravished you.” His dry knuckles grazed against the sharp, albeit soft-skinned frame of Hero’s cheeks. “You would have chills from more than just the air. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

His voice flattered her just as much- quiet and hushed, as if this were a scandal in his own private home. It sounded thrilling. It felt thrilling. Hero’s heart thumped harder now than when she’d been caught. It shouldn’t have been possible. Never had her heart beat so hard against her ribcage, like it was trying to escape. Like it depended on Villain’s voice and commands to keep her alive.

His hand trailed down her cheek, down the centre of her chest- where she gasped, but didn’t stop him- to her stomach, then right above the waistband of her pants.

“Hand me the lockpick,” he whispered, head beside her own, “or I might pleasure you here…instead of giving you the courtesy of a warm shower.” It was no threat; it was an invitation. Hero felt his lips curl, tugging her hair ever-so-slightly away from her ear. “Either way, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”

Hero swallowed. Would it be so bad, she thought, to be taken by Villain? With his smooth talking and easy compliments, it was hard to consider walking away. Whatever she decided, she wasn’t getting the disk drive. Maybe she could have something else. Something enticing. Something fulfilling. Something she’d never had before with a man who paid no one else any attention.

She could spoil herself.

But only this once.

And never again.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

******

I have more like this if you’re looking for more: Distracted

Gasps of Air

And I have to give a shoutout to the queen and king of similar drabbles @save-the-villainous-cat and @epiclamer. They’re probably more accustomed to this sort of thing.

[doctorweebmd]

[kingscyrus]

V. ( A Witchers Tale )

-----Under the cold light of a crescent moon, the forest of Nyath groaned and whispered with the sounds of night. Ancient oaks and twisted pines cast long shadows over the narrow path that cut through the heart of the woods. Tonight, a new shadow joined the forest—a shadow of formidable height and power.

Cyrus, a witcher of legendary renown, stood an imposing 9'5", giants blood flowing through his veins. Clad in armor that bore the scars of countless battles, he moved with a grace that belied his size. His amber eyes scanned the darkness, his senses heightened by the potions that coursed through his veins. He had been hired to rid the village of Sarnwick of a creature preying upon its people—a monster known as the Skraeth. The villagers spoke of it in hushed tones, describing a beast with the body of a bear, the wings of a bat, and the eyes of a serpent. It was a creature of nightmares, but for Cyrus, it was just another contract. He followed the trail of broken branches and blood-stained leaves, his sword at the ready.

The air grew thick with the scent of decay as he neared the beast's lair. A low growl echoed through the trees, and Cyrus tightened his grip on his blade, the silver gleaming faintly in the moonlight. He stepped into a clearing and there it stood, the Skraeth, its eyes glowing a sinister green. It was larger than the villagers had described, its monstrous form casting a menacing shadow.

Cyrus didn’t hesitate. With a roar that matched the beast’s, he charged forward, swinging his sword with immense strength. The Skraeth met his attack with a swipe of its clawed paw, the impact sending a shockwave through the ground. But Cyrus was unyielding. He danced around the creature, his movements swift and precise, landing blow after blow on the monster’s hide. The battle raged on, the forest bearing witness to the clash of titans. The Skraeth's wings beat furiously, attempting to lift its bulk into the air, but Cyrus anticipated the move. With a powerful leap, he brought his sword down upon one of its wings, severing it with a sickening crunch. The beast howled in agony, its roar reverberating through the trees. But the battle was far from over. Engaged, the Skraeth lunged at Cyrus, snapping its haw and swiping with its remaining wing. Cyrus dodged and parried, his movements a blur of steel and agility. He aimed for the beast's vulnerable points, striking at its joints and soft underbelly, but the skraeth's hide was thick, and it fought with a ferocity born of desperation. The monster swung its massive paw, catching Cyrus off guard and sending him crashing into a tree. The impact would have killed a lesser man, but Cyrus rose, his eyes burning with determination. He hurled a vial of explosive powder at the Skraeth, the burst of fire and smoke momentarily blinding the beast. Seizing the opportunity, Cyrus charged once more, his greatsword a gleaming arc in the moonlight. He struck the Skraeth's exposed neck, the blade cutting deep. The beast reared back, its blood sprawling the forest floor, but it still fought on. With a snark, it lashed out with its tail, the spiked appendage catching Cyrus across the chest and tearing through his armor.

Bloodied but undeterred, Cyrus rolled to his feet. Placing his greatsword down and instead reached for a second sword strapped to his side-- a shorter, sharper blade for speed. The Skreath, sensing its prey's renewed vigor, lunged again. This time, Cyrus met it head-on. He dodged under its claws, slicing at his legs and belly, moving with the precision of a seasoned warrior. The forest was a cacophony of snarls, roars, and the clang of steel. The ground shook beneath their struggle. And the egress bore witness to this epic clash. Cyrus's breaths came in ragged gasps, each movement a testament to his endurance and skill. He landed a final, devasting blow to the Skraeth's heart, driving his sword deep into the beast's chest.

The Skraeth shuddered, its glowing eyes dimming as it collapsed. Cyrus pulled his blade free, the dark blood hissing as it met the enchanted steel. Breathing heavily, he surveyed the fallen beast. The forest fell silent once more, and the threat extinguished. Cyrus cleaned his sword and sheathed it, his towering form casting a long shadow as he turned to leave. The villagers of Sarnwick would sleep peacefully tonight, their terror vanquished by the giant witcher who now walked silently back through the forest, ready for the next challenge that awaited him. As the first light of dawn touched the treetops, Cyrus emerged from the woods, a solitary figure against the waking world. He had faced the darkness and emerged victorious, a true protector of the realm. And though his journey was far from over, for now, he found solace in the quiet victory over the monstrous Skraeth.

[myobmaya]

25

TW: Death🙂

It’s a blurb but it’s about *that* scene at the end of Season 4 so I’ll add an read more option.

Eddie stares up at the sky seeing the bats get closer. The terrified look on Dustin’s face plays through his head. The horrified scream you let out when he cut the rope sinks. Wayne’s heartache when he learns he’ll never make it back in time for their 9 o’clock shared t.v Dinner.

The bats encircle around him. His arm raises and right before he swings he thinks about Dustin taking his role and guiding the lost sheep’s.

Swing.

A bar comes in and bites his rib cage. He turns on instinct and thinks about you having to go back and tell his uncle a lie of what has happened.

Swing.

He feels himself hit the ground, air knocked out of him. He thinks about Wayne losing the only family he had and the guilt he’ll carry.

Too late.

The bats come in and he feels their claws sink into his stomach. His legs. The agony of feeling them bite at his flesh only to move onto the next open piece of skin. He wishes he had the strength to continue.

This is not what he had planned. But it’s the fate he knew deep down he had to come to face eventually.

He knows he’s out time. He thinks about the fact that he never truly had a chance, doomed from the start. Blood seeps out from his wounds. It’s gathering in the back of his throat and he has no choice but to cough it up, spitting the crimson saliva up only to retrieve it down.

He knows this is it. He’s just waiting for the end to come. A fate that was always bound to take place.

If reincarnation exists, he hopes his next life treats him better. If it doesn’t, doing this last act is enough to last him over until his bones desecrate into dust and the boy who sacrificed himself for a town that hated him is forever forgotten.

[spamgyu]

*Mentalizing collage mingyu for valentines day*

oh we are so back besties....

(not technically valentines day but the same idea.... aha)

College!Mingyu – Ghosting and Balloons

no bc college!mingyu as someone who lives down the hall from your dorm and you always run into him doing something questionable [College!Mingyu Masterlist]

He hasn't replied to her texts.

He always replied to her texts. Even if he was busy — reacting with a heart or the !! feature Apple had so kindly coded into their imessage.

What could he possibly be so preoccupied with that he can't even bother leaving her on read – her message staying on delivered.

She knew he wasn't at practice.

It was Saturday... at 8pm.

There was no reason for him to be ignoring her either. Even when she was on something, pushing his buttons, he never ignored her.

That wasn't the case this time. They were having a proper conversation right before he had gone MIA. Her last text to him was asking if he wanted to grab brunch with her the following day.

Which was sent nearly 2 hours ago...

Chewing at the loose skin on her bottom lip, Y/n closed out the messaging app; tossing her phone away from her with a groan.

This was exactly the reason why she loathed the idea of having feelings for someone.

She hated how much it consumed her; over analyzing every single word and action that was being said back and forth.

It had only been about three weeks since that God forsaken night. And though she said it herself that their confession's didn't change anything, it did.

Within hours she felt the sudden shift between them. She was welcoming of all his hesitant touches, allowing him to pull her closer against his body whenever they stood, not bothering to bat an eye whenever he played with her fingers — pinching the tips as he babbled on about his day.

More importantly, the shift in the way they talked to one another.

The banter still remained, not letting a single minute pass without teasing him about his spelling errors or his lame jokes he would send over.

But she also have taken notice how much softer his voice has become whenever it was just the two of them. The first time she heard that tone, her knees nearly gave out from under her — grabbing his upper arm to stabilize herself.

Just as her brain was about to conjure the worst case scenarios possible – ones that included Mingyu ignoring her for someone else.

Some other girl.

The familiar assigned ringtone began to blare loudly from her phone.

"Yes?" She answered with a sigh.

"Come out." She couldn't see him but she could tell he was smiling – brightly. He always did seem to be smiling a little to wide whenever he was on the phone with her.

"No."

"Wha– Y/n please."

"No."

"Is it because–"

"Yes." Y/n replied shortly.

She did say she had standards, and though he ticked off many of her boxes; she was sure she wasn't going to let anything slide.

Even if it was petty. It wasn't like she wasn't going to give in anyways. She just wanted to give him a hard time.

Like she always has done.

"Y/n," Mingyu's voice softened. She could tell his smile had faded. "I'm sorry, but if you come outside you'll understand why I wasn't able to answer my phone. So please just humor me this one time?"

Damn him and that stupid voice.

"Fine." Y/n grumbled, hopping off of her bed – bounding for their dorm building's exit.

She didn't know what to expect but it was definitely not Mingyu leaning against his car... holding a bouquet of tulip balloons.

This still didn't explain why he had left her on delivered for nearly three hours.

"You've got pollen allergy and I uh– wanted to ask you something." He answered her silent question.

Her frown remained as she stood a few feet from him, debating whether she would give in to his kind gesture or continue with her stubborn act.

"Would you be my Valentine?" Mingyu held out both his arms, a small pout on his face – he was hoping that maybe it would make up for going awol the past few hours.

And god was he right.

"Valentine's day is next week." She bit back the smile as she took the balloons from his hand.

"Tiktok said I should ask before the fourteenth and I– the stupid flower legos were sold out and so I thought maybe this would be better but then it was so hard to make because they kept popping and I–"

Y/n couldn't help but giggle at his quick rambling, watching him shift his weight from one leg to another in nervousness. She could clearly see how he was regretful of his actions – and considering how well the bouquet was put together, there was no doubt he had gotten too preoccupied with trying to make sure that it came out perfect.

"Yes."

"Oh thank god." He let out a sigh as his shoulders dropped. "I'd love to go get brunch with you, by the way. On one condition."

"You have conditions now?"

Mingyu nodded. "Dinner? On me?"

"Gross." She stuck her tongue out.

"You're gross!" He gasped, instantly catching on to her joke. "Unles– Ow okay ow!"

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

"This girl I'm talking to have mentioned it once or twice."

"That girl also said she's close to ghosting you."

Mingyu shook his head. "No, I just spoke to her and she said she's actually head over heels for me."

"Is she a gymnast?" Y/n replied without missing a beat, earning yet another pout from the boy.

"I don't like this game."

"Let's go, lover boy." She snorted, getting on her tip toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek before letting herself into the passenger seat. "I want sushi."

Mingyu stood dumbfounded in his spot, feeling the heat of her lips linger on his skin – reaching up to touch where she had made contact with him.

Maybe he needed to make flower balloon bouquets more often

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@thegirlwhoimagined @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy @yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @vanillacheol @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult @alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu @bubbly-moon @lllucere @bo-fairykim @pluviophile-xxx @daegutowns @jenoxygen @niktwazny303 @aahvii @fragmentof-indifference @leah-rose03 @haolistic @eclliipsed @joshuahongnumbers @gyuguys @yaaaridk @christinewithluv @yoonzinoooo

(for some reason it's not allowing me to tag some who wanted to be added to the perm tag list ... cries... pls check ur settings so i can for future posts)

May or may not have been inspired by this pic.....

[d1tz]

━ ❛ Ohayo, Keigo ❜ ━

Keigo Takami x Non-binary Reader

Spoiler below!!

Sypnosis: The dark era of AFO has ended, and your boyfriend, Keigo Takami, has already resigned from hero work after losing his wings. The days were rough, and the nights were horrid. Nonetheless, you stuck by him through thick and thin. As a reward for holding on for so long, you decided to cook breakfast for him.

Note: Hello! I've decided to write my very own fan fiction about our beloved bbg, Keigo "Hawks" Takami, specifically the aftermath of Chapter 390+ ! This is gonna be the first time that I'll be writing a short fan fiction, so please pardon me for any mistakes. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 1,280

Tags: Established relationship, end of 2nd war, manga spoilers, use of pet names (love, babe, chickadee), and of course, domestic f l u f f

As the famous lasagna-loving cat would say, "I hate Mondays."

The most despised day of the week had come again. It signaled the start of weekdays full of work and inevitable stress. At this point, everyone wished they were Garfield. Fortunately, a certain blondie wouldn't have to go with the hustling flow.

For him, this particular Monday was... slow. With Hawks being reduced to a quirkless man, there was no more hero work to do, no more public interviews arranged by the HPSC, and less paperwork to fill out. Funny enough, losing his wings gave him more time to relax, more freedom, and definitely more comfortable sleeping positions.

As Keigo twisted and turned, a hand reached out to cup his cheek, followed by a shower of slow but loving kisses. The warmth of it alone curved a small smile on his face. It was enough to make his eyelids flutter open, revealing eyes blessed by the sun. The shine it held grew brighter at the first sight they saw. It was you.

“ Good morning, love, ” your words were laced by a tinge of gentleness, “ How was sleep? ”

Keigo tried to suppress a yawn, only to let it out and partially cover his mouth. In a sense, he looked like an orange tabby cat, “ It was great, thanks to you. ” Every night spent with you was always the best.

You let out a soft chuckle, “ Save your cheesy comments for later. C'mon now, I have a surprise for you. ”

A groan dragged itself from the man's lips, “ Don't wanna get up... too comfy. ” It had been quite a long time since he was able to laze around. However, you had other plans, plans to explode your Chicken Little's mind.

You slowly put yourself on top of Keigo and put your body on his, “ It's a new day, big man.”

Keigo instinctively wrapped his arms around you so you could lift him out from the comforts of your shared bed. He then shifted his weight and leaned onto you, “ Ack - you're crushing me! ” The only response you got was a content hum.

You sighed, a happy sigh, and planted many kisses again in an attempt to wake him up. “ C'mon babe, ” you encouraged in between kisses, “ Just this once? You can go back to bed after this. ” And so he gave in, “ Alright, alright, ” Keigo rubbed his eyes to fight off the lull of sleep, “ I’ll get up. ”

After dragging your groggy chicken lover to the kitchen-dinner room, his eyes widened. “ Did you… ” the drowsiness was replaced with astonishment, “ Did you make all of this? ”

On the table was an array of delicious food, a small breakfast for you and him. Two separate plates of crispy bacon strips and fluffy eggs were there. Beside one of the plates is a small tower of waffles adorned with honey and berries. A glass pitcher of orange juice stood tall alongside the vase of vibrant sunflowers. And to seal this cottagecore-esque meal, who would forget a basket of thick banana bread?

“ Oh - I didn’t make all of it, ” you said, “ I bought the banana bread from a nearby bakery. Though I can proudly say I didn’t overcook the bacon! ” Frankly, you were scared shitless of burning the oven, let alone burning the food. Nonetheless, you powered through it for Keigo and for the food.

The blonde paused, bewildered. This was the first time someone had cooked him anything.

The aroma of freshly cooked food wafted in the air. This was home. You are his home.

The silence slightly disturbed you, so you had to ask, “ Is there something wro - ” only to be pulled into a tight hug. “ …thank you. Thank you so, so much, ” Keigo repeatedly gave his thanks to the chef, kissing your cheeks the same way you did when you woke him up.

“ You were having a rough time after... what happened. So instead of having you do all the cooking, I want you to sit back and relax, ” your boyfriend looked at you giving such a soft smile. He couldn't help but do the same thing as well.

“ Then... ” Keigo pulled a chair for you to sit on, “ Let's taste it. I bet my KFC gift card it's much better than Gordon Ramsay's. ”

Your eyes playfully rolled themselves as you sat down, “ What kind of ulterior motive have you got behind all this flattery, hm? ” you joked and watched him take his seat opposite to yours.

“ Well, ” the blonde had his eyes somewhere else, only to dart back to you, “ I guess I'll have to drop the biggest spoilers: Nothing! It's all genuine, straight from the bottom of my heart. ”

At this very moment, you noticed how much Keigo had changed. It was as if he had taken the stars from the sky and placed them in his eyes. No matter how many times they were put out, they would twinkle twofold, like morning dew. As rude as it was to stare at someone, you couldn't help but be enchanted at how the fruits of your patience had beautifully bloomed in the form of a smiling wingless bird indulging in your cooking. Something about this domesticity was so simple, yet so endearing.

“ You never stop being a glutton, huh? ” you commented, still smiling

“ Sorry not sorry, chickadee. It's all in the genes, ” your other half defended, “ Damn, that rhymed. ”

You laugh at how silly he was. Though the days of gloom and sleepless nights were far from gone, you were glad Keigo had returned in your arms, safe and sound.

BUNOS ::

“ Keigo? ” you ate the last bite of your banana bread before asking. 

The man let out a 'hm?' while munching on some waffles and berries. 

“ Sorry if this is a bit too sudden, but I just wanna know... do you have any idea on what you want to do from this point onwards? ” He slowed his chewing down, thinking about it deeply. 

“ You don't have to answer if you don't wanna, of course! ” making him uncomfortable is the last thing you want to do, “ Don't worry about it. In fact, that's been on my mind for a while... ” 

Now that his hero career has come to a swift end, he had to start over somewhere else from scratch. That begged the question: What did he want to do in life? 

“ Honestly... I still don't know... ” he admitted, “ My entire life, I've been so focused on saving people and following PR orders. I don't think I have any interesting hobbies. Man, I just realized how boring I must be! ” Despite his cheery remark, the sadness in his tone could be heard. However, you were determined to turn it all around. 

“ You're not at all boring, ” you said,

 “ And what made you think so? ”

Now, if you were to list reasons why you love Keigo, it would probably take a day or more to complete it. You love how his smile flashes you every time and forms cute dimples. You love how he behaves so playfully and how much he pours so much effort even in the simplest of things. But most of all… you adore Keigo Takami for being Keigo Takami.

Instead of telling him these, you got up, walked towards him, and put your hands on his cheeks. He looked into your eyes as you looked into his. You closed the distance between your faces and placed your lips on his. Though silent, the moment was tender.

“ Does that answer everything? ” you asked. “ No, ” your current mood was that one moyai stone face emoji, “ That doesn't explain anything. ” You pinched his cheeks, making him chuckle, “ Eat your food, birdbrain. ”

Lmao how do you even write a fanfic

[arcxnumvitae]

The irregular beating of his heart echoed in his ears with every stride down the corridor that he took. Where was he going, he didn’t know. All that ran through his mind were Seòras’ words, again and again. Over and over. Time and time again until--

“I banish him.” Words muttered softly under his breath, gaining strength in their anger as he continued on. “I banish Ushild’ro from Seelie. May he never step foot on this soil-- may he never seek to toy with the ruined heart of its king ever again.”

[daedalusdavinci]

98, puzzle! with riddlebat. RIDDLE ME THIS, BATMAN.

boy. if you dont klsjdnlksjfn these are like the same ask.

first of all, i already told you this in dms so you know, but im never going to write a riddlebat chess scene bc nothing i write will ever top the 75k fic @jovialjuggernaut-draws wrote about literally exactly that. it has autistic bruce. it has chess as a bonding exercise. it has a chess death match. the chess matches actually work if you were to play them out. its everything. just go read it dont ask me for shitty mimicries. no one writes riddlebat like liam and that includes me i will not infringe

however i will do my best to offer you something, at least, in repentance for literally putting off answering this for ages bc my brain was melting and writing is so hard

The sun fell over the study in shades of gold, and folded into a blanket in the corner of the couch, Bruce frowned over his fist at a tiny piece of wood that looked identical to 500 other pieces.

"If I'm beaten by a jigsaw puzzle, I'll never hear the end of it," Edward muttered to himself, on the floor between the couch and the coffee table and bent over the puzzle.

"You've been beaten by far worse," Bruce said absently.

"That Flash Jr punk," Edward agreed mournfully. He twisted several pieces, moved them around, tried a few, and then sat back, tapping his fingers irritably against his knee. "I'll admit, his method of brute force is looking more appealing by the moment, however."

"It won't help anything." Finally, Bruce sat up, tapping his puzzle piece against Edward's head before he placed it in its correct spot.

Edward attempted an irritated expression, but landed short of it on exhausted. "I loathe you."

Bruce hummed, dropping a kiss on his temple as he picked another puzzle piece and sat back again.

[kayforpay]

Sentence prompt: There’s something beneath the waves that calls to you like a mother calls her children. It began the night of your 18th birthday and now every night it calls to you, begging you to come home.

The sea is dark, and cruel. She curls her foaming fingers around your ankles as you step slowly into the surf. Her voice rolls like thunder, echoing your name off the cliffs with each wave. You've always been scared of the sea, as scared of it as you were drawn to it. The power of the water.

This area is known for riptides, but you're not stupid. You're looking out over the sea as a storm miles off the coast strikes the water with lightning. You won't go swimming.

The sea reminds you of your mother. Demanding, imperfect, cruel. You do what you can to be enough, and it never works. You are not enough, and you know that. The sea, just like your mother, will tear you apart, and tell you it's for your own good.

Your steps slow as the water reaches your knees.

There's been a dream. You've had it for years, ever since you turned eighteen, four months after you left home to sleep on benches and avoid your family's well-meaning belittling.

It's the same as this, but louder, realer. The sea screams for you. The water is cold, sucking your ankles to try and drag you under. The sky is dark with clouds. The sand is gritty, sharp stones digging into your bare feet. In the dream, you let it take you. You sink into the waves. Water fills your lungs, weighs your hair and clothes, and you wake up when you can't breathe.

Just like when you wake from those dreams, you're crying now. The sea won't want you. Your mother never did, and the sea is like her. You know this.

Your thighs feel like ice under the waves. You can barely stand.

It's been almost a year since you left home, and you still feel like a child. You look over your shoulder, waiting for your mother's cloying voice to curl around you, crackling in your ears like seafoam. You wait for her to drag you in with a net, gut you of anything you've accomplished.

She isn't behind you on the beach. You know not to turn your back to the ocean, but you have to look, have to stare at the dark sand, the tall, echoing cliffs.

A hand rests on your shoulder, wet and freezing cold. You can't move.

"Finally." A voice says. It isn't your mother. It sounds nothing like seafoam, nothing like water. You feel like the stones cracking in that voice. "You took so long to return to us."

You don't turn. This must be a dream. The water is rising, around your waist. You can't walk against this tide.

Something moves, and it walks in front of you. A tall, dominant thing. It looks like a fairy, like the fairies you heard about that steal children. But you're not a child anymore, and fairies don't exist, despite the way this thing's teeth gleam with each strike of lightning.

"Changeling child. You're coming home at last." It growls, the six long, crab-like legs it walks on crowding you in. You step back, and fall off the edge of the sand bar suddenly, and barely hold your head above the swells. The storm is moving in so quickly, rain falls like stones on your head. One of the crab legs presses against your head and you scream, your mouth flooding with seawater.

It isn't peaceful. The thing over you smiles, the mouth moving in words you barely make out.

"Welcome home."