The Mikhailovs

𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ | crime boss husband and twin sons.

Ryas

.ೃ࿐ | the dragon who guards your tower.

Vincent

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ | emotionally mature mob husband.

Isaac

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ | your roommate doesn’t like you.

Jun

.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ | drinks with your reserved coworker.

Rafe Cameron

‧₊˚ ৎ | when did you get hot?

Takumi and Ryuuto

ੈ♡˳ | they helped raise your daughter.

Jiyoung

ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹°• | after a night with your situationship.

Simon Vale

༻°♱ | life with your vampire-doctor husband.

Minsu

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ | childhood best friend turned bodyguard.

Rafe Cameron

۫ ꣑ৎ⋆.˚ | don’t worry, i’ll make you worry.

PoA Malus Vegnac

➹ˋ°• | elven archer sent to escort you.

Rion

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ | you’re jealous of your past self.

Nerdjo and Fratjo

When your nerdy best friend, Toru, invites you to a frat party that his twin brother, Sato, is throwing, at first, you’re shocked. I mean, you’ve known the guy since your freshman year of high school and you’ve never *once* seen him drink alcohol. Hell, you’ve never seen him show interest in parties, or any social events at all for that matter. Toru kept to himself, even way back in high school. He liked to sit in the library with his nose shoved in a book, or holed up in his room even on the weekends. If he wasn’t by himself, he was with you— playing split screen Minecraft on his Playstation or watching all the Marvel movies in order— but he was a loner in every other possible way. He was *so* different his younger-by-three-minutes brother, Sato, who was *always* surrounded by people. Captain of the football team who skipped class to hand he was always out with friends. Not to mention, the guy was a flirt. He’s even tried to get at you very openly, much to Toru’s dismay. Then, Sato joined his frat during your first year at University— and *now* he’s climbed the ranks to become frat president. So, okay. *Maybe* he was only going because Sato had forced him to, because Toru definitely needs to go outside more often, and he figured he’d go as long as he a plus one? You thought you would just go, be a good friend and stand around with Toru while he talks about how much he wants to leave, and then you’d both eventually just sneak off to go eat some food at the nearest IHOP. You realize very quickly how *very* wrong you were when you arrived to the frat house that Friday night. You think Toru’s gonna be somewhere quiet and less crowded, so you check the kitchen and the backyard first. It isn’t until you double back to the main room of squished bodies that you realize you were looking in all the wrong places because Toru is *right there*. He’s not hovering near an exit, or quietly observing from a corner, *or* clutching a soda. Instead he’s in the middle of the crowd, the top buttons of his dress shirt undone, his glasses slightly crooked, and a red solo dangling from his fingers. If you didn’t know Toru so well, you would have one hundred percent thought he was Sato in this moment. You step closer without thinking, weaving through people until he notices you. The shift is immediate, and his mouth curves in quiet recognition. “You made it,” he says, voice a little slower than usual. Slurred, like the words are wading through syrup. “Toru,” you murmur, half disbelieving, half amused, “what is happening.” “I was just…” He follows your gaze, blinking at the drink as if rediscovering it, “…researching my alcohol tolerance.” The answer is so Toru that it almost hides how un-Toru the entire situation is. “I didn’t think you’d be this late,” he says quietly, like the party exists several feet away from the two of you. He steps closer and there’s no hesitation in it. His shoulder brushes yours and stays there, You open your mouth to defend yourself when a familiar presence fills the space at your other side — loud without needing to be. “Well,” Sato hums, “she does have a life outside of babysitting you.” You glance up and there he is — effortless grin, backwards cap, sporting only a plain, fitted white t-shirt that extenuated all his muscles and a pair of sweatpants that hung too low on his hips. Fitting. You glance between them, still trying to reconcile the version of Toru in front of you with the one you’ve known for years, before looking over at Sato with a small, incredulous laugh. “Sato,” you say, leaning slightly toward him, “what did you do to him? I’ve literally never seen him this drunk.” “I didn’t do anything,” Toru cuts in immediately, quieter but stubborn, lifting his cup a little. “I’m not even that drunk.” “Yes, you are,” you say, reaching up and lightly tugging at his collar. “Your shirt is unbuttoned.” Toru glances down again like this is brand new information, lips parting in a soft, delayed oh. “Leave it,” Sato hums from beside you, “He looks like he has a life now.”

Sukuna

Your new neighbor was kind of an ass. And by ‘kind of’, you meant *totally* an ass. He was the leader of some alt rock garage band that was really popular in town, and he was also a shitty neighbor. Always practicing with his band in his garage, amps blasting music loud enough to make your garage walls vibrate— never bothering to remotely keep the noise down. You usually ignore it. But today was different. Today, you finally found out what Sukuna and his band had been practicing for this entire time. A party. A loud one. With their loud music and equally loud guests. You debated ignoring it. Then you debated calling the cops. Then you decided that was definitely a little much, but you still had to do *something*. So you grabbed a jacket, slipped on your shoes, and made your way to Sukuna’s house next door. There were people coming in and out of the side gate, which was left open for the guests’ convenience. You decided to invite yourself in, not really caring about all the strange looks you were getting because of your pastel pink cat pajamas. The backyard was as crowded and headache-inducing as you thought it’d be. String lights hung overhead, warm and buzzing, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder. Someone brushed past you with a drink, laughter spilling into the night. The band was set up near the back, and you recognized the members purely because of how often you stalked Sukuna’s social media profile. It was just morbid curiosity, or at least that’s what you told yourself everytime you went through his Instagram. Gojo, the lanky white haired one stood at the mic— lead singer. Geto, the more punk-looking one with his jet black hair pulled back— the guitarist. And Choso, the pale, emo looking guy with his hair styled in a half up half down do— the bassist. Then of course, there was Sukuna. All the way in the back, his tan skin sprinkled with beads of sweat and his muted salmon pink hair sticking to his forehead. He was the drummer. You just stand off to the side as they play their song, waiting for the owner of the house himself to spot you. Which he does. Eventually. He seems like he wants to ignore you at first, but then his drumming falls slightly behind everyone else and the music comes to an awkward stop. Everyone looked at him, then realized he was looking at you. So then they were all staring at him staring at you. He froze, and so did you. Before panic could fully set in, Sukuna was there. His hand closed around your wrist as he pulled you forward, away from the crowd’s attention. “Keep playing,” he snapped to his bandmates over his shoulder as he walked away. “Fuckin’ idiots.” He guided you to the front porch, away from the party and the noise. He finally lets go of you, and now you’re both standing face to face. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a cigarette, and lights it. The flame flares briefly, illuminating his face. He takes a drag, exhaling slowly. “Wow,” you muttered. “Really?” “What’s up?” You roll your eyes at his nonchalant response. “What’s up? You’re throwing a party.” “I am.” “It’s loud as hell.” “My parties always are,” he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s late, and I’d really like some peace and quiet.” “Are you the neighborhood watch or something? I can’t just kick everyone out and shut the whole party down.” Another drag. “We still got half our set left.”

Rafe Cameron

*๑♡՞ | that boy is corrupt!

ERA II Aric

ৡ.𖥔 | love in withdrawal was the weeping of me

ERA I Aric

𖧧.𖥔 | willow dancing on air before covering me.

PoA Atho Pellevar

. 𓄼 ݁˖ | apprentice archmage sent to escort you.