-I'm a long-time lurker on Tumblr, but this is my first blog ever!
-I'm relatively new to writing, especially for fanfics/fandom related content.
ă ⊠Boundaries/Request info ⊠ă
-A blog isn't complete without requests, so ask away!!
-I mainly want to write Ranfren x reader drabbles/oneshots but I can do a few other fandoms! [Genshin (up-to Inazuma), Death Note, Mystic Messenger]
-I won't do anything too dark[really harsh violence or abus1ve relationships], however, I do believe some violence is necessary for these characters to show their love><
ă ⊠Misc/EndâŠ
-I don't have much to say other than thanks for reading this post!
-Don't be shy and request a story while you're at it>< I promise to try and be fast!
P.s- My fav character from Ranfren is the Guardian Angel!
a bouquet of dead roses blackened, brittle, and reeking of decay rests in randalâs outstretched hand, a grin tugging at his lips as he presents them like a precious gift. unsettled yet unable to refuse, you hesitate, knowing better than to question him. when he murmurs that they remind him of you, the weight of his words lingers, suffocating. the petals crumble at your touch, the thorns bite into your skin, but still you donât let go.
----
the roses are dead.
not just dried and brittle, not just on the verge of wilting dead.
petals blackened at the edges, curling inward as if recoiling from the touch of time. the once-vibrant red has dulled to the shade of drying blood, a deep, unsettling hue that whispers of decay. the stems, though still intact, have been bent at unnatural angles, as though plucked in a hurry, handled roughly, or perhaps tortured.
yet randal holds them out to you with a grin, as if presenting the most beautiful bouquet in the world.
"here," he says, voice smooth yet unsteady, like a lullaby played on an out-of-tune piano. "i got these for you."
for a moment, all you can do is stare.
the roses dangle from his grasp, barely holding together, petals trembling at the slightest movement. a few have already fallen, drifting lazily to the floor between you. the scent that reaches you isnât the floral sweetness you expect. itâs something earthier, heavier a mix of damp soil and something faintly metallic.
"...randal," you start, hesitant, unsure how to phrase what youâre thinking.
that these arenât flowers meant for a gift. that they look like theyâve been rotting in someoneâs hands. that they belong in a place of mourning, not in an offering of affection.
he tilts his head, watching you like a cat observing a cornered mouse. "what? you donât like them?"
thereâs no anger in his voice, no sharp edge of insult taken, but thereâs something else lurking beneath the words something dangerous.
your throat tightens.
"theyâre... interesting," you settle on, glancing at the twisted stems, the bruised petals, the tiny streak of red staining his fingertips.
you donât want to ask where it came from.
randalâs expression flickers, then shifts into something unreadable. slowly, he twirls the bouquet between his fingers, the stems twisting and creaking in protest. the thorns press against his skin, but he doesnât react.
"they reminded me of you," he finally murmurs.
your gaze snaps to his. his mismatched eyes are heavy-lidded, calculating, as if studying every micro-expression on your face, waiting for a reaction he hasnât yet received.
you swallow thickly. "because�"
randal hums, rolling his shoulders in a lazy stretch. "because theyâre beautiful, obviously," he says, offhandedly, like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
you glance at the dead flowers again, their withering forms crumbling at the edges.
beautiful.
somewhere in the back of your mind, the thought lingers like an echo: is this how he sees you?
"i-" you hesitate. the bouquet still hangs between you, his outstretched hand unwavering. heâs waiting. expecting.
you donât know what possesses you to reach out. maybe itâs the way his fingers twitch slightly, like he might pull them back if you take too long. maybe itâs the way his smile never fully reaches his eyes, like heâs daring you to reject him.
or maybe itâs because you already know you donât say no to randal ivory.
your fingers brush his as you take the bouquet. the stems are rough, thorns digging in just enough to sting. a petal disintegrates at your touch, floating lifelessly to the floor.
randal watches with a slow blink. his lips twitch, just barely, before curling into a smile.
"they suit you," he murmurs.
a shiver creeps down your spine. you donât ask what he means.
the scent of decay lingers between you, thick and suffocating.
and somehow, despite the weight in your chest, despite the quiet dread pooling in your stomach-
Hello! Idk if you write for Luther but Iâm absolutely in love with him so could you write where the reader is Lutherâs favorite pet despite being new and he gives her the most subtle special treatment (like affection) oh and fem reader pls đ
A/n - YIKES. Istg I did not mean to disappear.. I'm back.. hopefully for good...ALSO TYSM FOR ALL THE LOVE ON HOUSE!! I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT. But anyways;;;; This isn't really subtle..more like very obvious... 1.3k Luther drabble!!
Please be kind I literally only write for fun.. if you're mean to me I will sob.
CW. Fem!reader, Pet!reader, implied kidnapping (reader is Luther's pet), Body worship(??)(sfw), reader doesn't speak, Luther likes to praise the reader, a LOT of compliments, Randal..., NOT PROOF READ, CRINGE.
Tysm for reading, seriously... Luv y'all. Fic after the break!!!
Luther never made it too obvious, and neither did you. It was a secret well kept, one only shown through prolonged touches and overextended visits; you were his favorite pet, and as fair as he tried to be, heâd always have a preference for you.
It was a lazy morning in the Ivory household; Randal was in the nearby woods doing god knows what, and the catmen were asleep in their bunk beds, so the estate was quiet for once. You had just finished breakfast: a bowl of oats soaked with milk, some yogurt on the side, and a few pieces of chopped fruit thrown into the mix. After you became part of the Ivory household, Luther began paying closer attention to what humans needed nutrition-wise.
Sadly, that attention to detail didnât carry over to any of his other creatures: Sebastian still starved under Randalâs care, the catmen and Nana were left to fend for themselves most of the time, and Kitty Carpet rarely stayed in her human form long enough to be fed.. But Luther always insisted you eat a proper meal prepared by him.Â
Regardless, once you cleaned up in the kitchen, you made your way to the living room and curled up on the carpet in front of the TV before Luther cleared his throat to catch your attention.
He beckoned you over while he sat atop his chair in the living room, his focus on the television momentarily broken as he looked at you. When he was preoccupied with the TV, he was a man of very few words, preferring to focus on the show rather than talk over it. That seemed to change when you were around.
There was something so delightfully captivating about you that made him forget everything else in the room. It was a blessing and a curse, usually forcing himself to ignore your radiant presence to avoid showing favoritism, but that wasnât a concern now. No one else was there but you and him.
He patted his lap for you to rest your head on, tangling his long fingers in your hair as you obliged. Although he attempted to hide it, he seemed more interested in gazing at you rather than what he was watching. He lowered the volume on the television before speaking, his hands still tenderly petting you.
âI hope you're well fed.. I know I didn't have a whole lot of time to prepare breakfast this morning, but I hope it was sufficient.â He said, his usually even and bored tone, thick with admiration. His fingers traced down to your jawline, scratching the underside of your chin like a kitten.
His way of showing affection by always making sure your needs were met. With Nyen and Nyon, he could get by with letting them be self-sufficient, allowing them to make their own food or entertain themselves, but with you, he insisted on taking care of you personally. He always made sure you were fed, that Randal didn't bother you too much, and even selected your outfits in the morning.
He explained the simple gesture to the catmen as being a difference in gender, stating that a proper female pet should have a variety of outfits to choose from, completely omitting the fact that he enjoyed seeing you all dressed up.
Luther took pride in your well-being and frowned at even the lightest harm that came your way. He insists on helping you every time you need to use the stairs because of a previous bad fall. The hands he places on your lower back and arm arenât necessary when he does help, but the warmth of your delightfully human skin against his cold fingers is a temptation too grand to resist.Â
As of the current moment, he has completely abandoned any attempt at watching TV, instead entirely focusing on your presence and every minute detail about the way you react to his touch.
âYouâre so magnificent.. Truly. I could spend all day in your presence.â
He whispered, he was utterly addicted to the feeling of you, and this was one of the rare occasions he could indulge in that addiction.
As you purred and nuzzled into his thigh, clearly pleased by his affection, his thin lips curved into a tight smile, his hands traveling from your head down to your neck and shoulders, gently massaging away all the tension you had accumulated from the household's chaotic environment. He almost felt guilty for how much he doted on you, pitying his other pets, but when he looked at your face, your content expression melted away all his shame.
His hand dipped a bit lower, grazing your upper back, his thumb softly caressing your shoulder blades. He loved everything about you that made you human, every bone and inch of flesh; the way you flushed when embarrassed or cried when hurt. If he had time, he would explore every inch of you just to see how much you differ from a monster like him.
âSuch a perfectly delicate creature.. A gorgeous display of flesh.. Why canât all humans be as enchanting as you?â
Lutherâs hand trailed back up, fingers gently tracing the back of the hem of your neckline before dipping beneath your shirt, wanting to feel your skin directly against his hand. He lightly grazed your skin with his nails, going up and down in a soothing motion, watching your every reaction. You shivered from the touch, letting out a relieved sigh as he continued. The sound delighted him even more; the way you responded to his touch and praise only fuelled his growing obsession with you.
âWhat a pretty sound you made.. can you do it again? Or does it only happen when I-â
Without even finishing his sentence, his hand dipped down your back, repeating the soft scratching motion to elicit another sigh or whine from you. His smile upturned even more; he was smitten with the picture of you at his feet, becoming so pliant under his touch. It was a strange sight to see him so pleased, but you couldnât possibly focus on that when his touch was making you feel as light as air. You looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, put at ease by his hands and verbal worship.Â
You were about to beg for more (or maybe even offer to crawl on his lap so he could get better access) when you heard the back door of the estate open. Randal must be home.
Lutherâs expression quickly turned dull as his hand retracted from beneath your top; he leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows tightly knit in a pensive expression as he prepared for his younger brother to burst in and spew nonsense.
Your head turned to see the short, orange-haired boy in the doorway of the living room. He had a terrifyingly impish grin on his face, as if he saw something he could use as blackmail. Randal let out a sickening laugh that sobered you up quickly, making you lift your head away from Lutherâs lap to regain whatever dignity you had left.
âKu-ku.. sorry for the intrusion! My pet couldnât take the cold, so we had to come back.. Please, by all means, donât stop on my account.â
Randal beamed with a disgustingly smug grin before dragging his new pet by their hair towards the stairs, looking back with amused eyes before disappearing into his room.
Luther let out a sharp sigh, knowing it was only a matter of time before Randal came back to bother him again or before the catmen woke up. His moment of brief peace and solace had fled, and as much as he wanted to continue, he knew he couldnât.. Not for the time being.
He looked back down at you, running his fingers through your hair and cupping your face once more before leaning down to whisper in your ear,
A/n - OKAY.. sososoooo sorry I've been inactive on this blog.. I got caught up in life and this is my apology!!! A 1.5k self-indulgent Randal drabble!!
Please be kind this is my first fic...like ever... I've only made friend fiction before this
CW. forced kiss, reader being referred to as pet + wife (no pronouns used though), implied kidnapping (reader is Randal's pet), Randal being a freak (sfw), NOT PROOF READ, reader is kinda quiet, CRINGE.
okok... ill stop yapping.. fic after break!!
The thinly padded coffin wasn't the best place to sleep. It didn't make it any better that your captor, better known as Randal, had you in a vice grip- his arms tight around your ribcage like you were a stuffed bear. You had been attempting to wiggle out of his hold for at least half an hour, trying to loosen his grasp on you just by an inch so you could breathe properly; but alas, he never let up.
You had completely given up, sighing in defeat as you tried to fall back to sleep.. that's when you heard the nauseating cackle behind you, what could only be described as the distorted laugh of a poorly voice-acted anime boy from the 90s.
âGiving up so soon? I was having funâ
Randal's voice boomed behind you, his breath hot against your ear as you groaned in annoyance, immediately trying to wiggle away once more. He was awake the entire time and felt you struggle, he just decided to be an asshole about it. Your arms went up to claw at his, desperate to get him off you while he squeezed you tighter, the air in your lungs getting pushed out.
âYou're not going anywhere, you'll stay here with me alllll morning long.â
The thought of jumping off a bridge crossed your mind, but where would you even find one? In this maze of a house, you couldn't even find the front door, there was no chance of escape. You just hoped the tall man who bought you at the pet store would call him out of the room soon to give you some peace, although whatever task he would give Randal wouldn't pull him away long enough for you to fully catch your breath.
â... You're being too quiet. How boring.â
He let go of you with a huff, finally giving you the space to take a deep breath. Randal pushed open the dark coffin with a gloved hand on the lid, the fluorescent light of his room filling your vision. You hissed in discomfort as your eyes struggled to adjust, groggily sitting up as you tiredly rubbed your eyes. As your eyes finally adapted to the light you were jump scared by the orange-haired boy right in front of you, a large toothy grin on his face,
âAh- my pet is fully awake! How great, the day can finally begin!â
He said before excitedly pulling you up by your hair, not because he meant to cause harm, simply because he had no idea how to handle humans properly. He dragged you along by your hair, gloved fingers tugging at your poor scalp until you reached the kitchen where you saw three familiar figures. The strange man who bought you from the pet store, Luther, and his twoâŠcatmen..Nyen and Nyon. You weren't entirely sure what a catman was, but the way Nyen stared at you made you fear them both, even though Nyon had yet to threaten you the way Nyen did.
âGood morning..â
You managed out quietly, purely out of fear of seeming rude. You were going to turn to Randal to beg for some form of breakfast when you realized he was already halfway across the kitchen rummaging through the fridge recklessly. You duck as a jar is thrown your way, watching as it hits the wall and shatters, whatever strange liquid was in it coating the walls and floor.Â
âHEYYY! You were supposed to catch that. Hmph..guess you don't want breakfast after all⊠humans truly are picky eatersâ
Randal muttered the last part to himself while pushing the fridge door shut, shoving his hands into his pockets after and approaching you with a devilish grin,
âSince you're not hungry, how about we go out to the woods instead? I know a goood spot.â
He chuckled, already reaching to grab your hair once more. To save yourself the pain, and possible hair loss, you backed up- putting your hands in front of you defensively and finally spoke, breaking the streak of silence you had towards him,
âN-no you don't have to grab me- I'll walk right behind youâ
Randal smiled at your nervousness, somewhat proud that he had instilled such fear in you. He turned on his heels and began to walk, going through a few rooms before ending up at the front door. You were astonished how easy he made it seem, hoping to God you remembered the path he went through for your next escape plan. He opened the door, letting the dry, cold, Canadian wind hit your face.
You immediately winced, hugging yourself tightly as you stepped out behind him, the cold seemingly not affecting him as much as it did you.Â
âDon't you think it's too cold to go outside?â
He looked at you confused, slightly annoyed at your behavior before it finally clicked for him. His hands reached up to the top button of his uniform jacket and undid it, clumsily undoing all the buttons before taking the jacket off and tossing it onto you. The sight of him only in the white button-up was strange considering in the weeks you spent in the Ivory household you had yet to see him with it off.
âThanks..â
The shock of his new outfit didn't last long as you gratefully took the jacket, putting it on yourself and buttoning it up to ensure maximum warmth. Once you were all bundled up you nodded awkwardly to signal you're ready. Randal seemed appeased by the view of you in his jacket, a rather cartoonish blush spreading across his pale cheeks,
âMy pet is wearing my jacket.. I can already tell today is going to be goodâ
Randal said to himself under his breath, turning on his heels and walking towards the forest, snow crunching beneath his feet. You followed soon after, staying close by, weary of being separated from him in such conditions. The thought of escaping crossed your mind again, but you doubt you'd get far.. for now it was best to follow him and learn the land.
The two of you walked endlessly it seemed, Randal never halting to assess where he was or questioning his directions. He was disturbingly familiar with the woods and didn't take any breaks. Your legs felt heavy with exertion, struggling to keep up with Randal's pace but too proud to ask for a break. Finally, Randal stopped. You looked ahead and saw a shabby, seemingly abandoned, clubhouse decorated nonsensically with doll parts and various other childish things.
âWhat is this place?â
You scoff out, obviously not amused that you walked so far for something as underwhelming as that. Randal looked back at you, hands roughly cupping your face and forcing you to look at him,
âMy perfect little play place. Let's play house, shall we? I'll be the dad and you can be⊠the dog! No wait.. my wife.. yes that'll do.â
He said, that same distorted laugh you heard earlier in the morning ringing through your ears. He took your hand and led you to the clubhouse, tugging you into the musty, rotting building. The wood of the clubhouse was weathered greatly, along with all the plastic play appliances in it- a children's fake oven and kitchen set in one corner, across from it a dining room set and a small cot.
Randal pushed you towards the kitchen end of the house, stepping back towards the door again,
âYou can be a housewife and I'll be the husband coming home from work. I expect dinner and a kiss as soon as I get home.â
He proclaimed before shutting the clubhouse door so harshly the entire place shook.Â
âWhat!? Wait-â
You stood there, dumbfounded as you heard his footsteps going away from the house. You immediately started fearing the worst- that he'd leave you here all night long for the sake of the game. You searched around the decrepit play place, eyes landing on a bin full of fake plastic food. While you weren't sure of what Randal was planning, you knew better than to not play along.
âStupid.. this is so stupid!â
You grabbed the bin and a broken plastic plate you found, set it down on the small children's sized table, arranging food on the plate as if your life depended on it while feeling incredibly foolish. You were just about done making your faux food spread when you heard footsteps approaching again, knowing it was Randal.
With a big swing of the door, he entered the tiny house, his smile as unnerving as ever,
âHoney, I'm home!â
He cooed, making his way over to you- his eyes quickly glanced over at the plastic food, obviously pleased that you followed his demands. He had you cornered, your back pressed up against the toy stove as he stood in front of you, one hand gripping your face- squishing your cheeks as he looked down at you,
âHow sweet, you made all that for me. You're such a perfect wife.â
He said proudly before his lips crashed against yours in a bruising kiss, his other hand holding your hip against the stove, his fingertips digging into your soft flesh. It was obvious he had never kissed anyone by the amount of force he used, you were sure the kiss would leave a mark. By the pleased expression he had at the end of the kiss, it was clear as day.
This wouldn't be the last time you'd be playing house.
