Shadowringa

When the two of you arrived at the beach, you were actually excited. All you and Eridan ever did was sit around, but now you guys could really hang out like actual people. You wouldn’t feel awkward being cooped up on the couch with him. The two of you would be free to do as you pleased out in the wide, open ocean. What you didn’t understand is why it bugged you so much to be alone with him. He was your best friend. You jumped out of the car and grabbed your beach bag from the back. Eridan grabbed his things as well, and the two of you headed to a clear spot on the beach. You each rolled out your towels and sat your bags down. You

Summary: Anime/Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club Title: Selfish Kyoya Ootori x Male!Reader Oneshot Warnings: None. An alarm was not a welcoming sound, as Kyoya had mentally noted down as he was forcefully dragged from a dimension of sweet dreams. He heard shuffling beside him, and a pressure was removed from his chest as that infernal beeping continued its dreadful tune. Cracking open his eyes with a somewhat pained expression, he glared at the man whom was sat on the edge of the bed, tiredly reaching for his phone so that he could turn off that alarm. "You get back in this bed, right this instant." Kyoya was not a morning person. Everyb

The next room the trio entered was a simple one. The same red carpet and maroon walls adorned its interior and a red door stood in the middle of it, leading to another room. But what really irked the three the most was the headless statue that stood in front of it. “What a lousy place for this thing… Step back a tad.” (Male Name) and Ib took a step back and watched as Garry pushed the statue out of the way. “Ta-dah! Now we can proceed. All right, let’s go!” (Male Name) hid the grin that appeared on his lips as Garry tried to act manly. The three entered the new door and found themselves in an entirely gre

(y/n) = First name (e/c) = Eye color (h/c) = Hair color (y/c) = Your city  — Aren’t you cold?  Jiwoo looked over his shoulder and stared at you for a bit.  — Cold is for peasants.  You quietly stared back from the balcony’s door, slowly closing it and pulling a blanket from the shaft. He was absent mindedly looking at the sky, taking notes on a small notebook. You put the blanket over his back, and he slightly pulls it next to his body, a small smile escaping from his lips.  — So I guess even noblesse feels the cold wheatear of (y/c), right?  — Shut up, (y/n)! — He