A New Life for Better or Worse {¶ Sleepy Bois Inc. ¶}

Kill Them? Easy.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you looked at Ranboo.

"What could be dangerous?" You whispered, understanding that whatever was in Ranboo's house must have frightened him. 

"Y-You just can't come in. You have to find somewhere else to stay for tonight Y/N just-" Ranboo rambled on softly, brightly colored eyes filled with worry.

You shook your head slightly, telling Ranboo that you weren't going to go until you knew that he was safe and secure in his own home. 

"Let me in Ranboo." You demanded after a bit of silence, the rain pouring down onto you. No matter the trees in the forest the rain still pelted down onto the ground, onto you. 

"Y/N I can't, you have to go-" The tone of worry and concern in Ranboo's voice became more urgent, like the seconds you were spending talking were more dangerous than anything. 

You ignored Ranboo's words and pushed yourself into his own home, admiring it and breathing in the well known smell of wood and home. 

The tree had already been hollowed out when Ranboo had made his home in it, by whatever had laid residence in it before Ranboo had taken custody over the house. 

The top floor of his house was the actual tree, a small work table filled with scattered around papers and an ink and quill. 

There was a small bin filled with papers, trashed ones, next to the table. The rest of the room had only a small chest and a few torches in it, making sure that no monsters would be able to appear out of no where, or as you liked to call it, "spawn." 

Voices were heard from downstairs, some loud, some quiet, but they were definitely voices.

It... surprised you. Ranboo normally didn't have any other visitors than you. 

Unless-

You walked downstairs carefully and quietly, that sort of prideful click in your stride still there as you stepped down into the bottom rooms and looked at the five men sitting on the couches.

The eldest of them had blond hair. He wore a white and green bucket hat. It fit perfectly around his head and it looked like it had been worn out, yet he still wore it. He had purple and black wings, the two colors blending together and creating the color. He was wearing a simple green shirt and jeans, a diamond sword at his side. 

He seemed like the father figure of the group, sitting back and laughing loudly every once in a while at one of the others jokes, observing. He seemed quite cheery and bubbly. 

The man sitting next to him held a god like presence. His hair was a bright pink, looking like it had been stained with blood though. His hair was long and in a pony tail, a messy one. His eyes were a dark crimson red and powerful, holding the stare of a king, but the king hated his own kingdom. His outfit seemed more complex than any of the others. He was wearing a sort of trench coat, the color of blood. It had gold pieces everywhere, holding and pulling things together on the coat. A red ruby held together the top piece of the coat, and it looked as if he was wearing a white dress shirt underneath the coat. His arms were covered by bandages and his hands wore a gold fingered glove. A small splatter of blood was on his cheek, as if he had forgotten that he had killed a man a few minutes ago and not cared to wipe the blood off. 

He seemed like a brother figure of the group, the person who sat back and observed everyone with that menacing and mysterious glare, the one that said "I'm a god, and your a human." 

There was a brown haired man sitting next to the god like one. His hair was fluffy and covered a good portion of his head, dark brown eyes like a black and bottomless pit. He wore a black beanie and a trench coat as well, except his was a light brown. He had a white dress shirt underneath the trench coat, like the man sitting next to him, and black pants on. Coming from underneath his white shirt was a sort of black bandana, covering his mouth and nose. He wore fingerless black gloves on his hands, one of them tucked in a pocket of his trench coat while the other was out in front of his face, holding up a flaming match.