#anyway i already thought the vest was cute in of itself but the fact it's snakeskin.. hehe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unclewaynemunson · 1 year

Text

There was a soft knock on the door before Scott stepped into the trailer: one tap, a slight pause, then three rapid taps. Wayne would recognize that rhythm in his sleep by now.

Scott greeted him with a smile and a quick kiss on his mouth as soon as the door was closed behind him. He was wearing a maroon sweater vest over a button-down shirt with a striped pattern, and when Wayne let his gaze wander lower, he noticed the finger-shaped chalk stains that formed a white contrast against his gray trousers.

Steve and Eddie were occupying the couch, their limbs tangled into each other and matching teasing smiles on their faces as they were having a dramatically heated argument about something Wayne had already tuned out of a long time ago.

Wayne was weirdly nervous about the whole thing. Steve had been at the trailer for basically every Friday night since the summer, shortly after he and Eddie officially became a couple. The boy had become a familiar presence, just as much in on the rituals as Eddie and Wayne. But Scott had never been there with them yet. Sure, they had dinner together on Saturdays or an occasional weekday when Wayne didn’t have a nightshift to get to - but never on Friday. Never on Shabbat.

It's always been important to Wayne, Shabbat. Back when he worked at the quarry, he couldn't always be home on Friday evenings, but at the plant, no matter how shitty the job itself, he was blessed with the possibility to get his Friday nights and Saturdays off, with only a few exceptions.

It was part of his identity, even if it was something he's had to hide behind closed doors – he was used to hiding parts of his identity behind closed doors, anyway. This was only one of the many parts of himself that he had been taught to keep hidden for as long as he could remember.

But here Scott was, giving him a smile filled with happy expectation, accepting Wayne for all that he was without any effort. A miracle disguised in a sweater vest.

'I'm sorry, I didn't have time to get changed,' Scott said, a somewhat unfamiliar nervous edge to his voice, as if this was just as big of a deal for him as it was for Wayne. 'I was getting a bit worried that I wouldn't be dressed appropriately, but you told me how important it was to be on time for the candle lighting, so I didn't wanna risk running late... I told Mrs. Horowitz at the school that I was going to a Shabbat dinner and she told me I should be dressed nicely, but here I am wearing trousers covered in chalk stains.'

Before Wayne could even reply to that, Eddie bounced off the couch and greeted Scott by wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

'It's cute that you're so worried, Mr. Clarke, but even with your chalk stain pants, you're still easily overdressing all of us.'

'Hey!' Steve chimed in from his spot on the couch. 'What about my Shabbat khakis?'

Eddie cackled, his curls bouncing around his face as he rushed back to the couch and went to sit on Steve's lap, completely ignoring the empty space right next to him.

'The fact that you're calling them your “Shabbat khakis” is saying more than enough to prove my point, big boy,' he said, teasing but with a look in his eyes that was so fond it almost felt like Wayne was witnessing something too private.

He let his gaze wander back to Scott, who was looking slightly less tense as he presented Wayne with a bottle of wine.

'Oh, you didn't need to do that,' Wayne said automatically.

'It's kosher, I checked,' Scott told him, and Wayne couldn't help but softly shake his head at the man in front of him.

'You know we don't bother eatin' kosher,' he pointed out.

'I do,' Scott said, like it even surprised himself that he did. 'But I thought, with Shabbat...' His eyes flashed towards the boys on the couch, but they seemed to be too busy making heart-eyes at each other and giggling to pay much attention to the conversation the men were having. Still, he continued at a much lower volume, 'I have to admit I'm a little bit out my depth, Wayne. Mrs. Horowitz made it all sound much more formal than you did when you told me about it, so I guess I got a bit nervous about the whole thing.'

Wayne looked at Scott fondly, patted him on his shoulder in the hopes that that would set him more at ease.

'Yeah, if you do it properly it can all get a bit formal,' he admitted. 'But the Munsons are doin' it trailer park style. You're good.'

A smile started growing underneath Scott's mustache – a smile that still left Wayne slightly breathless whenever it appeared.

'Aight, why don't you come over here –' Wayne took both Scott's hands in his own to guide him towards the small table in the corner, '– so we can light the candles together?'

'Candle time!' Eddie yelled out as soon as his ear caught the word “candles.” He jumped up from Steve's lap and skipped over towards Wayne and Scott with Steve trailing behind him like a lovesick puppy.

'Usually the candles would be lit by the woman of the house,' Wayne explained to Scott, 'but we ain't had a woman of the house since, well, ever, so you'll have to make do with little ol' me, I'm afraid. We light the candles and say a blessing, and then we wish each other Shabbat shalom.'

'Are there always four candles?' Scott asked.

'Well, officially it's only one, if you're unmarried,' Wayne told him. 'But we been doin' two ever since Eddie moved here, and then I figured it'd be nice to get one for Steve as well, and now you're here, so...' He trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable by what this implied – but Scott only gave him that breathtaking beaming smile and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

Wayne let himself melt into the touch, but Eddie impatiently pointed towards his watch.

'C'mon, man, time to burn some shit,' he commanded, and Wayne slowly shook his head as he reached for the matches. Only Eddie could refer to this mitzvah as “burning some shit” with a straight face, as if it was the most badass thing in the world to light a couple of candles.

Wayne welcomed the familiar feeling of anticipation as he lit all four the candles, then discarded the still burning match in the ashtray. He covered his eyes with one hand, recited the blessing, and then opened his eyes to wish everyone around him a good shabbos.

'Shabbat shalom,' Scott said quietly, with an almost shy smile tugging at his mouth.

They all took a seat at the table, which could barely even fit three people, but Wayne didn't really mind sitting a bit too close to Scott anyway.

'What did the blessing mean?' Scott asked. And he looked so genuinely interested that Wayne found himself going into a whole monologue before he even knew it; not just about the meaning of the blessing, but also about the whole symbolism of the lighting of the candles in general and the stories behind the hymns they were about to sing. It felt good, to share this piece of himself with Scott, to have Scott hanging onto his every word and asking all kinds of questions.

Scott, a teacher in heart and soul, always loved launching into excited monologues about big scientific facts and theories, and while Wayne loved listening to him when that happened, it was surprisingly nice to be the one doing the teaching for a change.

Eddie sat out Wayne's explanation with a surprising amount of patience and Steve, for whom all of this was still relatively new too, seemed to listen to him just as attentively as Scott. When Wayne felt like he had been talking more than enough and Scott stopped asking any further questions, they all rose from their seats to continue with the Shalom Aleichem. Wayne tried not to look at Scott while he sang and instead focused on Eddie's voice merging with his own. Steve never sang it with them, feeling more comfortable listening instead, but Wayne always felt this connection with his nephew while the Hebrew words rolled off their tongues, connecting them with each other and with the community around them across generations and continents.

After they finished singing – Wayne's favorite part of the evening – he proceeded with the kiddush, pausing to explain to Scott what exactly was happening while he handed out the wine.

'And now we wash our hands,' Wayne continued. He guided Scott to the sink in their tiny kitchen, pouring water over his hands and reciting the blessing for him. He laid a finger on his lips to indicate to Scott that he shouldn't speak, and took his time to meticulously dry Scott's hands for him. He was quite aware of the fact that Scott could very well do that part by himself, but if he saw an excuse to hold those hands and treat them to a bit of tenderness, it was impossible not to take it. He tried to ignore the obnoxious eyebrow wiggle Eddie was sending him from over Scott’s head, clearly knowing exactly what Wayne was doing, and instead dedicated his full attention to Scott’s soft hands, grateful that none of them would be speaking right now and simply allowing himself to enjoy the moment.

He continued to observe quietly how Eddie and then Steve came up to the sink for the washing. Steve still said the words of the blessing in an unsure voice, even though he had been doing this for a while now, and as always, his gaze found Eddie's after the last word as if he was looking for confirmation that he hadn't messed up – and Eddie always answered that gaze with an encouraging nod and a soft smile around his lips.

When everyone was back at the table, Wayne proceeded to recite the last blessing before they could begin their meal, handing out pieces of challah to the others so that they could start eating and break the somewhat solemn silence.

They spent the rest of the evening enjoying their simple Shabbat meal. Neither Wayne nor Eddie were particularly gifted cooks, and more often than not had their Shabbat dinner been nothing but a plain mac'n cheese. But ever since Steve had started joining them, their menus had somewhat improved. Even though the boy wasn't a very experienced cook yet, he loved trying out new recipes and definitely knew his way around the kitchen better than Eddie and Wayne combined. So they all enjoyed the delicious fish prepared by Steve, paired with the wine Scott had brought, while easily chatting away about the week they'd had and their plans for the weekend.

Even though Wayne wasn't exactly what you'd call an observant Jew, he still valued the Shabbat tradition of contemplating the texts and stories that were so important to who they were and why they were doing what they did, so he told Scott and Steve about one of his favorite psalms and happily joined Eddie when the boy spontaneously started singing it.

'What did ya think?' Wayne asked when he followed Scott outside at the end of the evening. It ached a little bit, to let Scott go home; Wayne wished he had an actual bed to offer him, so they'd be able to enjoy each other's company a couple hours longer, possibly forever.

They were outside, so Scott didn't touch him, but his smile easily managed to light up the darkness around them.

'Thank you for sharing this with me,' he said in a soft voice.

Wayne wanted to say something along the lines of Thank you for coming, but that wouldn't quite cover what he was actually feeling, so instead, he stayed silent. Scott seemed to understand him anyway, though, because he let his hand slide over Wayne's arm before he got into his car and drove off into the darkness. It was barely a real touch, nothing but a friendly gesture shared between acquaintances to anyone who might be seeing them from behind the windows of their trailer. But to Wayne, it was everything: it was understanding, it was appreciation, it was gratitude, and most of all, it was a promise.

#we all love jewish!eddie so i figured it was time for some jewish!wayne content too #you can also consider this a big fat fuck you to the antisemitic harry potter game #clarkson my beloved #wayne munson #scott clarke #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #fruity ficlet

254 notes · View notes

jjungkooksthighs · 4 years

Text

Claws of Carnality | jjk (3)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf, fantasy

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scenting

Summary: Denial is a crude adversary in how it battles your want to accept the alpha that has no shadings of doubt that you are, in fact, his mate. He intends to clear things up for you using the one surefire thing that will, however, prove him to truly be yours and you are utterly helpless in denying him.

A/N: So, here we are with part three already. Goodness, I can’t even believe how much attention this has gotten so far. Please keep it up, you guys! It really feeds my creative juices and encourages me when you guys let me know what you think of the stories I put out! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this next part. Things are gradually going to begin to heat up from here on out and I can’t wait to see how you all react!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

You try to swim through the flurry of thoughts, the floundering disbelief heavy as you wade through it in spite of the amused alpha that watches you with interest as a myriad of expressions pull at your features. It’s difficult to keep yourself afloat amidst the frenzy of emotions that cascade over you and your alpha notices this in the way that you fidget where you stand in the intensity with which he regards you, your hand clutching at your skirt as you inhale through your mouth to attempt to replace the air that eludes you.

One side of his lips curl upward in the effect he’s already had on you that only deepens in your silent refusal to acknowledge the final piece of the puzzle that would complete the missing segment of conviction still lost to you.

Unlike you, Jungkook has not an inkling of doubt that you are, without question, his mate. He just hadn’t known up until a few moments ago that you are to become something so much deeper than that to him that will extend into his very being, for even he’d had no idea that you are destined to be his soulmate in which there hasn’t been a pair of wolves like that for many thousands of years.

It all made sense to him in how his eyes had found themselves magnetized to the opposite pole that was you, the constant holder of his attention whenever he’d had the privilege to watch you frolic gleefully with your omegean friends outside your den whenever he passed by through the cover of the trees after a successful hunt, his own scent masked by the carcasses of his prey.

He’d never been able to explain the inexplicable pull toward you that had grasped him unrelentingly until he’d managed to catch sight or smell of you to, nor had it made sense to him why he’d wanted to express himself to you so much so that he’d danced in effort to satisfy the need to bask in the warmth of your intrigued gaze.

Nothing has ever quite compared to the way that his blood races when you so much as glance at him now that he thinks on it and gods, he longs for you to welcome him now as eagerly as you had in the supposed safety of dreams. Even now the inebriating scent of you coils around him insistently as it begs for him to come closer to the source of his desires he’s yearned for years.

It’s not as easy for you to accept this, though, no matter how much you want to. Gods, do you want to.

In light of the bright, flashing signs that your wolf begs for you to heed, there’s a very critical and very crucial element that would immediately clear away the lingering shadow of denial that this creature before you who looks to have been crafted by the gods is meant to be yours. Despite your purebred omegean blood that distinguishes you as the most desirable of candidates for alphas and betas alike in the rarity of such a pedigree amongst your dynamic, Jeon Jungkook could have any bitch in the pack he wished. There were many others who you believed looked better and gave back to the clan more than the likes of you.

And in the self-consciousness that shackles you, you had not breathed through your nose ever since he’d brought himself near to you.

You know that the moment that you do, there will be no question that he is truly the alpha from your dreams who boldly claims to be your mate, for the intoxicating scent of him that had incensed itself within you was deliciously unforgettable in the way it had had the power to have you glistening with slick upon a single whiff. Because of that, there is a reason that you are actively choosing not to use your olfactory sense around him.

Only within the old tales written in the aged tomes of the compound’s archives which are guarded by the elders has there been recollections of the legendary lupi antiquis, who were the progenitors of the werewolf race. These creatures were incarnations of nature manifested into the bodies of wolves that were guided by the moon’s phases in the celestial body’s wish to bring life to the earth in the decay of other mythical creatures who had grown sad and lifeless without a companion in the rarity of which they’d roamed.

To ensure the strongest and most virile of the moon’s creations found a partner that would belong and be designed solely for them, it was said that the celestial body preselected the companion that would remain loyal to them through the entirety of their life by choosing for them a soulmate.

The word has always been held close your heart in the romantic radiance of it, for it had been said that a bond unlike any other in the lupine world burgeoned inside two destined mates of the moon’s selection among the abilities that allow such a pair to share thoughts and feelings with one another telepathically across insurmountable distances in addition to each wolf becoming stronger where the alpha would gain physical strength while the omega would be granted bolstered mental fortitude.

Beyond that, the wolf’s kiss could cure their mate of any ailment or injury in the profound love that the very essences of each kindred spirit were vested with as they longed ardently to remain together forever and always.

As time had passed, the word had begun to become diluted in the diminished occurrences with which it happened as more and more werewolves began to populate and once pure bloodlines became soured by excessive mating between different partners in the uncontrollable ruts and heats that drove them to couple with any wolf in the vicinity under the influence purely of instinct to breed and be bred.

Many lives had been lost during the violent, territorial battles over both alphas and omegas for a partner that often ended in death to one or both participants, the lessons of the past yielding guidance to the future generation in the written accounts left behind so that the fledgling pups that came after would not suffer as the earlier wolves had.

It is why your pack has such defined rules now upon the presentation or period of peak maturity for omegas in particular because they have always been the desired mates of alphas.

It is also how the entire compound knows when the last happening of two soulmates was, which had been a couple thousand years ago when the moon had aligned with the rest of the planetary bodies in the meticulously structured history courses that all maturing wolves are mandated to take and in the stories that are told by the elders over annual bonfires celebrating the bonding between two wolves.

Perhaps it is all of these reasons that have every wolf in your pack still able to discern and recognize the defined series of circumstances that present themselves between two lupine creatures fated to be each other’s soulmate.

The first is the gift of sight, which allows each lupine creature to see the eyes of their mate. The second is the gift of olfaction, which is the amalgamation of scents naturally produced from the scent gland of each wolf that have the ability to draw the undivided attention of their destined other so temptingly that it causes sudden production of either slick for omegas and pre-ejaculative fluid for alphas. In addition, this one is powerful enough that it acts an effluvious vice that impulses each lupine creature in how desirously their mate can waft into and draw out their counterpart’s instincts.

Each are granted only after the moon lights a path for them both to meet, but that hadn’t happened for you, had it? After all, it’s not like the stream of dreams every night after the last eclipse could have-

Your eyes widen bigger than the largest star as your cheeks color themselves redder than a ruby in mortification as the links join together and that has the alpha relishing in the adorable sight of you as he croons, “There it is, pretty. I knew you would come around soon enough,” he fixes his sight on the edge of a reddened petal he’d caused to fall over your skin in your supposed fantasy that peeks out from under the edge of your silken choker that he wishes he could tear off of you and add more of his marks to as he continues, “Did you think I would allow my mate to suffer with how desperately you whined and how loudly you howled for me?”

You fumble for words in the embarrassment that soaks you as you try to speak past a mouth that is dryer than the desert while you shake your head like you’re in a daze and you might as well be in how incapable you are of rationalizing at this point.

“This can’t be… it can’t be possible.” You whisper quietly as if thinking aloud and Jungkook finds that he appreciates the sound of you, that he is pleased in how you’ve finally chosen to use that cute voice of yours and let him into your thoughts.

The alpha coos, “Oh, my pretty omega, but it can,” he takes one calculated step closer, “Come on, little omega, smell me. Do not think that I have not caught on to the fact that you haven’t used your nose in your efforts to deny this, to deny me.” His honeyed voice slathers itself over you, as you melt under its thickness, “You asked your alpha to come find you and I have, pretty. Now, it’s time for you to do the same. Scent me and see that I am the one the moon has promised you to, that I am the alpha you belong to.”

He delivers his words to you in the form of a command as he takes another step toward you only to have your heart beat faster against your ribcage, your wolf lowering its head in submission as you try to make yourself smaller under his searing, prompting gaze and the longer that you dangerously surrender yourself to those golden irises that are still speckled with the silver that mirrors your own, your resistance cracks and folds gradually under his increasingly prominent pressure. It can only be compacted and compressed so much until nothing remains and, unable to disobey his directive, you swallow a thick lump of nervousness down your throat before clearing it as he looks on expectantly.

His avid attention sears into you doggedly and, under its power, your omega blood boils in need to heed him and, purely driven by your body’s desideratum to yield to him without the input of any cognizant thought, your hand finds itself slowly and tentatively lifting toward the exposed neck that he has bared torturously against the obscenely opened shirt. The fluttery wings of anticipation flap animatedly within you as the alpha watches with intrigue, allowing you to slowly near him.

Your fingers do not stall as they ghost over the notch between his collarbones as you dare to allow yourself to touch the skin that tries to reach for you in the waves of heat that roll off of him and when you turn your hand so that the soft underside of your wrist just barely manages to rub against his sensitive scent gland that all but strains and pulses against you, your breath hitches as a deep rumble of a growl tumbles from his throat in response.

It is not a sound born of aggression, but of satisfaction that has your omega preening under its euphoniously low trill and when his fingers close around your forearm to possessively drag your radiocarpal joint back and forth over the intimate area that secretes pheromones wantonly for you, your wolf sings at his hot touch, at the way that his fingers curl deliciously over your delicate skin.

The whole time, his irises flash tellingly in gratification that has you helplessly falling for the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters as he greedily drinks in the way your mouth has parted dazedly while he coats himself in your own essence that is produced richly from the glands in your wrist.

The scent glands of the neck were far stronger, far more potent, but right now, he will take from you what you decide to give. There will be time for more later, he is sure.

Your delicious scent is quick to consume him, the sound that drips from his lips deepening in pitch as your aroma drapes itself over him in its entirety before sinking into his very pores until he’s momentarily drunk off you, his pupils enlarging until there is only you.

“Gods,” he utters, “you smell like sin, pretty. You’re like a fucking aphrodisiac in how you tempt me.” Somewhere in his pants, his cock twitches to life at the mere scent of you as your carnal essence awakens something far too primal within him.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper, your wolf baying in delight at his admission and wantful actions.

In response to him, your own irises dilate as your heart pangs wildly against your chest, breath a hard companion to come by in his overbearingly alluring presence that seeks your own in the warmth of his skin that reaches longingly for you.

You can’t begin to rationalize how long he slides your wrist sinfully against him as he makes a point of trailing your radiocarpal joint over the vast expanse of muscles that line his neck as they all but jump at your touch as the sound that tumbles from his lips darkens impossibly more only to draw out a whine from you. Minutes or hours could have passed since this started, but you have no care in the world because of how caught you are under his simmering stare.

Once he’s secure in the knowledge that succulent scent of you has smeared him to the point of no return, that’s when he pulls your hand back until he holds it under your nostrils while his mouth waters at the delectable waft of you through his own that sets his very blood on fire.

His fingers sink wonderfully into your skin and it is positively unholy in how his heat permeates you until you’re filled gloriously with it he orders, “Go on now, my pretty omega. Breathe me in until every last doubt is torn from you and all you can think about is me,” his breath is hot against your cheek as he inches impossibly closer in the need to be impossibly closer to you as you shakily exhale while he finishes, “Drink me in until this little body of yours is sated in the sweet recognition of the alpha that owns it.”

His words settle viscously over you and in the command of the alpha that you are helpless to resist with your omegean blood, you do. You did not want to fight this, did not want to fight him. It went against your baser instincts and nature to do so. It was all just your self-consciousness that had bound you back and away from him, but under his attention that does not waver in the imposing neediness of it that glints with a savage saturation dripping from his very being, you can’t withstand it. So, you obey.

The change is immediate.

Upon the first whiff of him that drizzles up through your nostrils to trickle fluidly like that of a delicious philter through you, your every cell is flooded with stimulation that is guided by the heady essence that is decidedly and uniquely him. He tastes of newly dewed grasses that are accented by an earthly underlayer and somehow it is all bolstered by the overwhelmingly delicious amalgamation of blooming gardenia, black vanilla and freshly matured pear.

A sudden deposit of slick finds itself between your folds that glisten to life and it earns a sharp growl from him as he brings one lip between his teeth.

He reeks of pungently dangerous desire that beckons your very being and your eyes roll to the back of your head at in its insistent invitation as he fills you with his quintessence and soon your body can no longer bear your weight in the way that his strong incense curls around you to have your limbs grow weak under its inexorable consummation of you.

Your weakly whisper, “Alpha…my alpha,” the concession quick to run through your veins as you yield to him.

Your legs begin to tremble precariously with each breath you take in effort to collect as much of him as you can, the familiar smell exactly alike to that of the one belonging to the wolf from your dreams as understanding and recognition saturate your being.

“Omega,” Jungkook breathes, satisfaction washing over him as he watches your body react so affectedly to him.

And when your body is no longer able to bear your weight in how quickly the alpha has drawn away their strength through his own power, he is there.

At the same time that your head falls back and your sense of equilibrium leaves you through numbed legs, one of his large hands finds its place along your nape while one muscled arm wraps around your back to pull you against the built planes of an aureate chest as he croons, “My beautiful omega. You’ve acknowledged me at long last. Such a good girl for me, you are,” he angles his head low so that his heated breath once more billows against you, “I’m going to take you with me to the forest now, pretty. Once we’re there, you’re going to watch me shift so that I can hunt just for you. When I return,” his pink tongue darts outward to wet his lips as his gaze surges with hunger, “I expect my mate to be waiting for me before I let every wolf in this fucking compound know that you’re mine when I claim you at the ceremony tonight.”

Your breath stutters at that and when his arms dip to collect you like his bride as he tucks you against the muscled chest that you subconsciously lean into you in the safety that pours from him that your wolf relishes in. Through it all, you can only barely utter, “As you wish, alpha.”

As he holds you close, you nuzzle your alpha and there’s a high-pitched, satisfied purr that easily cascades through your throat in the warmth and security that his able body offers. You care not how far your song of satisfaction is carried in the winds that swell against you only to roll tauntingly over all the alphas in the distance that Jungkook is in charge of as the pack alpha’s son who is meant to one day lead the compound.

All that matters is that you’ve found your alpha and that he, in turn, has found you.

High in the sky, the moon hides behind the awakening sun as golden rays begin to filter searchingly through the thick underbrush of the forest lining the horizon as far as the eye can see.

#btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #werewolf!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts abo #bts #jungkook #dom!jungkook #alpha!jungkook #alpha jungkook #alpha omega bts #alpha jungkook x omega reader #werewolf jungkook #jungkook hot #soulmate au

1K notes · View notes

flightlessangelwings · 3 years

Text

Work of Art ~ Chapter 1/2

Marcus Pike x tattooed!fem!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: fluff, pining, an asshole boss, Marcus being the bestest, reader dealing with misogynistic comments, kissing, insinuated spicy times

Notes: This idea was brought to me by @the-purity-pen and I got so carried away that I broke it into 2 parts lol. Thanks so much Leeann! And thank you to @we-can-be-himbos for beta reading! I loved writing this so much and I’m so excited to share this with y’all so I hope you like it! Moodboard made by me

This was not the ideal situation to walk into when you came in for work this morning. Your job as a receptionist and concierge at The Lustrio, an upscale and expensive hotel, had been fairly tame and quiet for the past five years you had been there. This was the first time there was an incident, and of course you were the one to run headfirst into it.

The Lustrio was very fancy with a rich, high-class clientele. The rooms were lavish and went for hundreds of dollars a night. Even the lobby was a sight in itself, and sometimes people walked through just to look at the exquisite art and ceramics on display. The architecture and design of the space was a work of art in and of itself. You and your coworkers were used to the usual flow of traffic throughout the day paired with people checking in and out.

While walking in to start your shift, you noticed broken glass everywhere, a priceless piece of art was gone, and the overnight security guard was unconscious on the floor. The sun hadn’t even risen yet and you immediately rushed to the bodyguard’s side as you dialed the emergency line. In no time, the lobby was filled with police, paramedics, and FBI agents. You felt like your world was turned upside down, even if it wasn’t your personal property that was stolen.

Luckily, the security guard was just knocked out, and you had gotten there just in time for him to be alright. As you watched them wheel him away, your boss, Rodderick White, approached you with his usual scowl on his face.

“Well this is just fantastic,” was the first thing he said to you during this whole debacle, “Fix your jacket too, you look disheveled.” You didn’t expect him to ask if you were alright or anything; he seemed to have a grudge against you for some time and you were used to his comments. If you weren’t so overwhelmed, you would have commented on the fact that he didn’t even seem bothered by the theft in the first place but you were too flustered to fully notice.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking Rod,” you snipped back. But you decided not to push your luck with him today and adjusted the collar of your shirt and lined your jacket to look more presentable. The uniform wasn’t horrible: a black blazer over a white button down shirt and black vest with your choice of black dress pants or skirt with black stockings. It just got warm at times with being covered up completely, and the tightness of the shirt collar sometimes felt suffocating.

“Rodderick,” he grumbled back before he cleared his throat and put his mask of friendliness on, “The FBI wants to talk to you.”

You sighed. You knew they would want to interview you since you were the first in that morning, but you weren't looking forward to it. “Yes sir, Mr. White,” you used your fake customer service voice as you followed where the various agents gestured for you to go.

The FBI unit had set themselves up in both the larger and smaller conference rooms that were just a short walk down the hallway from the lobby. In the large one, they had laptops and equipment set up. You noticed several agents were already busy trying to get a lead on the case. The smaller room that you were led in to was set up for interviews. Once you reached the doorway, you were met with a single agent who you assumed would conduct your interview.

“Nice to meet you,” he greeted you with a warm smile and an extended hand, “I’m Marcus Pike, the agent in charge here,” you took his hand and gave him your name, “I”m sorry this happened here. I hope you’re alright. Can I get you some water or anything?”

It was nice to know that a complete stranger showed you more kindness and concern than your boss who you had known for years. You brushed off the frustration you had with your boss, along with the lingering feeling of the warmth from the agent’s soft hand in yours. He was handsome for sure, and had big soft brown eyes and a smile that lit up the room. A sprinkle of scruff lined his jaw and framed his face perfectly.

“I’m fine, thank you,” your voice was genuine when you spoke to the agent and you followed him into the room where you sat down at the conference table.

Agent Pike closed the door behind him and the two of you were alone in the room.

Suddenly, you felt nervous, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. He must have noticed the nerves on your face right away before he gave you another sweet smile and said your name in a calm voice, “You’re not in trouble or anything. We just need your account of what you saw.”

Just those few words from him instantly made you feel better. Normally, you wouldn’t fall for someone’s charm like this, but something about this agent just seemed so genuine. Genuine and kind were two qualities that were hard to find in a person.

You felt yourself heat up as you gave him a nervous chuckle, “Since it’s just us in here, would you mind if I took my jacket off? I’m a little warm,” you tried to play off your jitters. When he nodded you added, “Just don’t tell my boss. We’re not supposed to be out of uniform at all when we’re here.”

Marcus laughed and looked down at the table, “Your secret is safe with me.” He looked back up when he heard your laughter, and this time it was his turn to be nervous.

With your jacket off, you were left in your short sleeve white button down shirt and vest, and you undid the top couple buttons to give yourself more room to breathe. But it wasn’t just the exposed skin that caught Marcus’ attention. He saw for the first time that you were almost completely covered in tattoos, and he couldn’t help but stare.

Marcus was absolutely a fan of art; it was what drew him to work for the art theft department in the first place. He also liked to dabble in art himself in his free time. To see how much artwork you had on your body made him stare at you in admiration. Marcus had thought that the lobby was nice to look at, but you were a work of art on a whole other level.

“Sorry,” he focused his attention to the papers in front of him to tear his gaze away, “I like your tattoos,” he added in a softer tone.

You smiled at him and Marcus thought his heart would break out of his chest. “Thank you, Agent Pike,” again, your voice was genuine. Truthfully, you thought his reaction was cute. You were used to worse anyway, and you could always tell when people stared out of interest or admiration versus disgust. Agent Pike definitely liked what he saw; you could tell already that he was not a subtle man at all.

“Marcus, please,” he met your eyes again and you both shared a moment where time seemed to stop for both of you.

“Marcus,” you repeated in a whisper and he echoed with your name.

Marcus had to bring himself back to the task at hand. He redirected the situation back to what he originally was supposed to be talking to you about. He asked you a series of questions about your morning, what you saw, the time you arrived, if you noticed anything in the past few days, etc. You answered all of his questions honestly, and your story lined up with events perfectly. Not that Marcus was concerned it wouldn’t.

“We have an idea of who it might be,” Marcus told you as he slid you a sheet of paper with the suspect’s photo on it, “Does he look familiar?”

You took the photo and furrowed your brows as you studied it, “Yeah,” your voice dropped, “He checked in a couple days ago. I remember I was the one who checked him in. He had a weird energy about him that gave me the creeps, but he didn’t try anything. Haven’t seen him since.”

Marcus clenched his fists involuntarily and suddenly felt the need to protect you. He wasn’t sure why; the two of you were practically strangers. Yet, even in your first meeting, he felt like there was something there. Even with his past history of failed relationships, there was something about you that just called to Marcus. Something about you told him that you were worth taking a chance on.

“Well we’re following up on him. My team is the best so we should have him soon,” Marcus turned serious as he fixed his gaze on you again. He waited for your eyes to meet his before he added in a more concerned tone, “Just stay safe until then.”

Something about his tone made your heart skip a beat and you felt your chest tighten. You could tell from the look on his face that he meant it, and his worry for you was genuine. Normally, you wouldn’t be flirtatious with a stranger, let alone an FBI agent, but you responded in a sultry tone, “I’ll be safer when you catch the guy.”

Marcus’ breath caught in his throat as he clenched his fists again; he definitely did not expect that tone from you. All he did was nod as he composed himself and slid his card across the table, “My number is on the back. If you think of anything else or need anything,” he paused as the tension in the room suddenly felt thick, “Call me.”

It took Marcus Pike and his team less than a week to catch the art thief, and when they did, his first thought was of you. He was pleasantly surprised that you had actually texted him the day after he interviewed you and he used the opportunity to make sure again that you were ok. He wanted to ask about your boss too, since he saw the older man berate you for seemingly nothing before Marcus and his team left. But, he decided not to push that envelope yet.

“Welcome back, Agent Pike,” your voice greeted him when he walked into the lobby.

Marcus was thankful you were at work when he came by and he greeted you with a smile and your name, “Nice to see you again,” he looked around, “Looks like you all got everything cleaned up well.” A look around told him that Rodderick was either busy in his office or off for the day, and for that Marcus was grateful. He wanted to talk to you anyway.

You whispered something to your coworker beside you and stepped around the desk to be closer to Marcus, “Like nothing ever happened,” you tried to make a joke but your eyes told a different story.

He read the question in your eyes clearly and it gave him the biggest pleasure to tell you, “We got him.”

Your face lit up and the relief on your face was clear, “I’m glad to hear it,” you let out a heavy breath, “I can’t offer you a free night or anything… At least not without Rodderick’s approval,” you said your boss’s name with snark and disdain and Marcus couldn’t help but let out a short laugh.

“I’m ok,” he replied lightheartedly before he paused and stared at you for a moment, “Can I ask you out to dinner instead?”

For a moment, you thought you had passed out. He couldn’t have actually asked you out, could he? But when you finally caught up to yourself, you responded with a soft but enthusiastic, “Yes.”

You took a deep breath as you stepped out of your Uber in front of the restaurant. It was a nicer place than you usually went to, but Marcus picked the place and insisted on treating you. You picked out a nice outfit for the occasion, and made sure that it was sleeveless to show you tattoos since you remembered that he really liked them. A smile lit up your face as you thought about the look on his face when you shed your jacket the day you two met.

But Marcus’ voice shook you from your throughs, and you looked up to see him dressed nicely in front of you. In his hand, he had a single flower for you, and you wanted to tear up at the gesture. It was something small, but you could tell how meaningful it was. With a thanks, you took the flower and hooked your arm around his as he led you inside.

At dinner, conversation flowed so easily. Marcus told you all about his career and his interests, and you did the same. You even made the joke that this was much better than an interrogation, which made him laugh. Everything seemed perfect, and both you and Marcus felt happy and comfortable with each other.

“So I have to ask,” Marcus started, “Are there any stories about your tattoos?” when your face flashed a look of apprehension, he clarified, “I’m not criticizing at all. Actually, I think they’re exquisite. Really a work of art.”

You bit your lip as you grinned. No one had ever complimented your tattoos quite like that before, so you indulged his question. You told the story behind some of them, and picked out your personal favorites, “I wanted to be a tattoo artist at one point, but it just wasn’t in the cards for me,” you sighed, “Maybe in another life.”

“Maybe in that life I’ll run the flower shop across the street and admire you from there,” he quipped back and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea.

But, stares from a man at another table caught Marcus’ attention. Your back was to him, so you couldn’t see, but Marcus did not like the way the man eyed you. A soft frown came across his face as he met the man’s gaze before he turned away. Marcus couldn’t help but think how rude it was for the man to blatantly check you out while you were obviously on a date with him. Of course, he knew you were beautiful and attractive, but he didn’t like the way the man stared at you.

“Marcus?” you asked when you noticed his expression dropped, “You ok?”

Your voice brought his attention back to you, “Yeah,” he answered with a half smile, “Fine.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth again, a voice interrupted, “Hey,” a deep rumble called your attention and it was the man who stared at you. He hovered close to you as he stared disapprovingly, “Don’t you have enough tattoos for a woman? Disgusting.”

Before you could even react, Marcus jumped to his feet to face him head on, “Don’t you have anything better to do? What she does with her own body is none of your business,” the anger in his voice caught you off guard, “And she is beautiful the way she is,” he added in a lower voice as he grabbed onto the man’s collar, “She’s a damn work of art.”

It was the last thing you expected, but you appreciated how fast Marcus was to defend you. But, you noticed the man’s anger also flared so you got to your feet too, “Hey, Marcus it’s ok,” you put your arms out between the two men to try to break them up.

Marcus glanced over at you for a moment before he decided to let the man go. He knew from the look on your face that you didn’t want to cause a scene. Asmuch as he wanted to just punch the guy, he decided to let it go. The man scrambled away the second he could, and Marcus let out a heavy exhale to calm himself down as you looked at him with wide, pleading eyes.

The way he immediately defended you lit something up inside you, and you wanted to cry from the rush of emotions. If you weren’t in such a nice restaurant, you would have tackled him in the biggest hug, but you kept your cool for now, “Thank you, Marcus,” you spoke in a hushed tone. Your hand dropped down to take his and you gave him a tight squeeze. You hoped your emotions came through in your grip.

And the way he smiled at you made your heart stop for a moment. Instead of sitting back down, Marcus squeezed your hand back, “How about we get out of here?”

You nodded as he left enough money to cover your bill and tip on the table and led you outside. As much as Marcus wanted to pull out all the romantic stops for you, he decided to change his plan for the evening and led you down the street to a diner, “How about pancakes a la mode for dessert?”

“I’m good with anywhere, Marcus,” you replied with a smile, “As long as it’s with you.”

In no time, you were seated in a booth for part two of your date. Honestly, you felt much more comfortable in a more casual place, but you meant what you said: you were happy anywhere as long as you were with Marcus Pike. Conversation picked up right where you left off and things just felt so natural with him.

“Hey,” Marcus suddenly turned the conversation in a more serious direction, “I’m sorry about that guy at the restaurant. He shouldn’t have said that to you.”

A flutter in your chest rendered you speechless for a moment before you swallowed hard, “It’s alright, Marcus,” you shrugged it off, “I’ve gotten worse.” You were bothered by the guy’s insult, but over the years you’ve learned to shrug those people off. But the look of concern on Marcus’ face made your heart flip in your chest, “Thank you for what you did though,” you added with a soft smile of your own.

Marcus seemed satisfied with that and his face relaxed, “What kind of date would I be if I didn’t defend the most beautiful woman in there?” he chipped back with a wink.

When you stuttered in an attempt to find the right words, Marcus laughed at you. Clearly, it had been some time since someone treated you the way he thought you should be treated. But, Marcus was determined to never let you feel unwanted or alienated again. He took pity on you and steered the conversation back to something light and the two of you talked over a pot of coffee for hours until you both decided you should leave.

Marcus put his arm around you as he guided you outside again and you fiddled with your phone in your hand as the two of you stood on the curb, “I guess I should call an Uber,” you mumbled as you made no attempt to do so.

He just watched you in silence as he thought about how nice it felt to hold you close. And Marcus couldn’t help how badly he wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t want to cross a line so he held himself back.

However, your voice interrupted his thoughts as you turned to face him with a determined look on your face, “Listen Marcus, I don’t normally do this on a first date but,” you reached out to cup his face in your hands and slowly pulled him in close to you. You paused for a moment to give him a chance to pull away, and when he didn’t you pressed your lips together in a short, soft kiss. When you pulled back and caught his eye for a moment, you saw the fire in his eyes and you crashed your lips together again. This time, the kiss was more desperate and heated.

Marcus tightened his grip on you and held you as close as he possibly could as he deepened the kiss. The two of you let the rest of the world fall away as you got completely lost in each other. The kiss was sweet, yet fiery, and you both could feel the unspoken words in each other’s lips.

When he finally broke away, Marcus whispered breathlessly, “I don’t normally do this on a first date, but would you wanna come over to my place?”

With your forehead pressed against his, your voice was just as hushed, “Yes.”

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike x you #Marcus pike fic #marcus pike x y/n #the mentalist fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

179 notes · View notes

saebyeog-i · 4 years

Text

soft | njm (m)

genre | office romance au / slight humor, smut lol

rating/warnings | stream of consciousness bs / alcohol consumption / semi public sex {oral, m receiving; mentions of breathplay} / slightly unedited whoops

word count | drabble! 2.1k because I don’t know how to shut up

pairing | IT Worker!Jaemin x reader

—

When you start your new job, you realize pretty quickly that Jaemin from IT wears sweaters all the time in the office. Even in the summer. Even when it’s 95 degrees outside, because he gets cold easily and they always blast the AC too much indoors.

He’s a very soft and unassuming character, and he’s the youngest person on his team by at least ten years, and during your first meeting when he’s getting your work station set up in your office he tells you he just likes that he gets paid to play around with computers all day and that’s why he keeps the job.

“Couldn’t you be a software engineer or something? Make far more money and not have to answer dumb computer questions all the time?” You ask offhandedly, and then realize you’ve insinuated that he’s paid poorly. You attempt to back pedal your statement, but he’s not the least bit offended.

He chuckles, eyes crinkling and he shakes his head. “I get paid plenty well for this job, and besides, I never have any tight deadlines or work overtime. I don’t exactly dream of extra and strenuous labor.”

He wears sweaters that are two sizes too big for him, made up of bright obnoxious colors and gaudy patterns that would usually make you fake vomit at seeing them on a real life human. But he makes them look charming, somehow. Grandpa sweaters, you call them, even to his face, with patterns that just make you gag. Never a sweater vest, mind you, only ever a full pull over knit sweater, with the occasional cardigan over a long sleeve turtleneck. Over time, you see a variety of patterns and colors, and you think he must have an endless supply of them.

You’re not bad with computers by any means, but you do like to bat your eyelashes and have other people do things for you when you can. You’re admittedly a little bit lazy, not stupid, and besides, he’s much faster at fixing any issues than you are, why waste time trying to figure it out yourself?

You think it’s cute, the way he smiles with his eyes and chuckles quietly whenever he comes to your office to fulfill a help desk ticket. You like the way he smiles at you and the way he’ll compliment your outfits, how soft and unassuming his words always are, and never cringe worthy like that older man in marketing who thinks he’s being nice but is in fact just being slightly creepy. When you tell your roommate about Jaemin from IT complimenting your new dress in the kitchen as you made your morning coffee, she asks if you have a thing for him because of how often you bring him up in your stories from work.

“Oh, no, definitely not— he’s soft, but a little too soft, you know? Need me a bit of a freak, someone who wouldn’t be opposed to like, I dunno, choking me if I said I was into that,” you sigh, trying to imagine the soft and pixie-like Jaemin from IT with his hands around your neck. It doesn’t compute. “Besides, I think he puts like, eight shots of espresso in his coffee, his cum probably tastes like battery acid,” you sigh into your yogurt as your roommate crinkles her nose one morning before you both depart for work. You move on from the brief idea, and think you’ll stick to just enjoying sweet and innocent Jaemin that wears oversizes sweaters from afar instead.

On anyone else, the fashion sense would be annoying.

But not on Jaemin.

He’s soft and squishy and kind of adorable with the way he scrunches up his nose when he laughs, and the endearing way he explains to the older company employees how to run the Microsoft Office automatic software updates to get the latest version of Excel and PowerPoint. He does his best to teach them how to do it on their own to give them a sense of accomplishment and understanding of the technology they rely on but seem to have no hope at operating beyond the basic level needed for their jobs (but still doing it for them anyways, with patience and a smile and never a complaint).

It’s an attractive quality, you have to admit, and if he wasn’t the walking embodiment of marshmallow fluff you’d think more about him. But he is, so you don’t, and instead sigh out loud as you watch him huff and blow the fluffy bangs out of his eyes as he’s crouched under your desk, re-running the wires for your office phone.

You’ve always had a bad habit of mumbling your thoughts out loud when you’re distracted, and sometimes he’ll catch you cursing out the equipment or your supervisors for not knowing the difference between something you’d deem as basic for your department or field. He finds it charming, thinks it makes you more candid and honest and it’s a different side of you than the one who bats her eyelashes and files help desk tickets when she could easily do something herself. You’re taken aback by this comment, because you didn’t count him for someone that would keep track of something like that, which you admit to him in slight disbelief.

“Oh believe me, I’m more observant than you think I am,” he chimes mysteriously as his fingers glide across your keyboard, entering his admin password to run another round of program installations and software upgrades.

You don’t think much of it when he’s the only person who fulfills your tickets for six months straight.

Not until the holiday party, anyways.

At the holiday party, it’s an open bar and everyone is dressed UP up. You expect to see Jaemin in another grandpa print sweater two sizes too big for him— that is, if the soft boy shows at all. Company holiday parties like this don’t scream ‘Jaemin from IT’ at you, given that from what your more seasoned coworkers have told you about years past, after tonight you can expect at least one person to end up suspended or fired for behavior; that and the Company President gives everyone an Uber code for a free ride home since they already know how absolutely wasted everyone plans on getting.

To your surprise, Jaemin from IT does in fact show up at the holiday party. You spot him as soon as he enters, about an hour into the party itself, and he slips into the crowd and makes his way to the bar. You were expecting a tacky Christmas sweater on him, but instead, he’s dressed in the exact opposite.

Instead, he’s got his hair styled up (a first, and you never realized how badly you wanted to see his forehead before) and instead of a gaudy array of colors and patterns, he’s wearing a nicely tailored suit in a rich wine color with a black button down underneath.

When he waves from across the room and approaches you just to be friendly and say hi, you’re definitely caught off guard enough that you don’t realize you’ve mumbled out “How is that fair? How can he look like THAT outside of a sweater and then not let me just suck his dick right here?”

Jaemin blinks for a moment, taken by surprise, when he realizes it’s that same candid habit of yours and you haven’t realized you’ve said it out loud. His mouth curls into a smile and he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek and gets nice and close, close enough to flirtatiously whisper “Well if you insist, though I’m sure we could find somewhere a bit more... private.”

And then you’re so caught off guard by confident sexy suit wearing Jaemin you think he’s read your mind for until you realize what you said out loud. But he’s into the idea given the fact that he doesn’t run in fear from your words and fuck it, so are you, and he’s not just cute and squishy anymore he’s fucking hot in that suit and with his dark hair styled just so, so you feel flirty and courageous when you say “You know I think I like the suit over the grandpa sweaters, but I think I’d like the suit even better on the floor.”

After the way his mouth ticks upward in a smile, the movements are all a blur that you can’t quite separate out into discrete events: downing you drink, linking hands with him, scurrying off towards the single occupancy restroom furthest from the dance floor and bolting the lock so you can be sure as shit that when your lips crash against his and then your knees hit the floor there will be no interruptions.

“Funny,” you say, trailing kisses down his throat after a moment, “Never thought I’d see you as anything but soft.” The admittance and double entendre are entirely intentional and you know that he knows.

“Seems like now’s a good as time as any to pay back all those superfluous ticket requests,” he breaths out, and your lips curl into a grin as your fingers find their way to his belt and tug his dress pants down.

“If you insist,” you tease back his words from earlier, sinking to your knees all too happily.

You take him into your mouth easily, relishing in the groans and shaky exhales that comes from his perfect lips as his fingers thread through your hair and his grip tightens. A fire deep in your belly ignites at the noises, enjoying how easily you can make the man you thought so soft and unassuming fall apart at just a run of your tongue and a hollowing of your cheeks.

“Fucking shit don’t do that unless—”

He’s cut off by his own groan as you run your tongue along his slit once before taking him as afar back in your throat as you can manage, then he’s cumming in your mouth with a high pitched shaky whine.

When he’s finished, you make an obscene show of his cum in your mouth for him and curl your tongue back as you swallow, wiping away the excess saliva with the heel of your palm. “Pay back enough?” You ask surreptitiously as you rise back to your feet, dusting off the skirt of your cocktail dress.

Jaemin from IT digs his fingers into your hips and pulls you close to him, a growl deep in the back of his throat before his lips clash against yours, “All that and then some.”

His fingers link with yours after as he hurriedly drags you from the bathroom to the exit of the venue, waving haphazardly at his team members before launching the ride share app and tapping in the provided code for that free ride. “I meant it when I said your wardrobe is both flattering and professional,” he hums, “But out of respect for your sense of style, I’ll refrain from tearing any garment off of you and provide a hangar for it instead. Deal?”

The words are so forward and presumptuous. You can’t help but feel a little turned on by the action, however, and find yourself scoffing as you smile and stick a hand out for him to shake, “Deal.”

So even though you’d maybe been hoping to get a bit more free alcohol out of the company holiday party, you’re celebrating some much better company some thirty, forty minutes later, once you’re out of the car and your bare back is pressed against the locked front door of his apartment as Jaemin from IT fucks into you in a way that is the absolute opposite from soft, just as he’d promised. And when you’d moaned it out and asked, he happily agreed to (delicately, tenderly) lay his hand on your throat and apply pressure.

Your expensive cocktail dress rests on a hanger on the coat rack in his living room, just like he’d promised. You don’t put it back on until the following afternoon. And then again a year later, when you enter the company holiday party arm in arm with Jaemin from IT— Na Jaemin, you’d finally learned and committed to memory his last name after that first night, who was now your boyfriend.

“You know I didn’t take you for an outfit repeater,” he teases, this year arriving on time (at your behest) and wearing an all black suit save for the glittering of the jeweled pinstripes on his jacket.

You roll your eyes and tug him towards you by his neck tie. “Who’s fault is it that not enough people got to appreciate this dress last year, hm?”

He looks up in thought playfully for a moment before answering, “The sweaters?”

You press another kiss to his lips, this one a little less aggressively and a little bit softer (like you liked him, you’d come to find out) and reply, “Yeah, definitely the sweaters.”

—

author’s note | I originally wrote this in my dm’s to Clover half asleep at 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday and she told me she’d sue if I didn’t post it, so, here, lol have the expanded version that I wrote after chugging a glass of Reisling and a shot of Jameson at 10pm last night.

#let's #try this #one more time sigh #get your shit together tumblr #fix your damn tags sigh #jaemin fanfic #jaemin fluff #jaemin smut #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct smut #-sighs- clover what have you done to me #swamp witch writes

193 notes · View notes

takonei · 3 years

Text

I rate the DR 10th anniversary outfits because

Sooo someone posted scans of the thing and I am here to rate those disasters. Here we fucking go.

---

Makoto: 7/10 Simple and effective, but nothing special.

Taka: 7.5/10 A bit more classy than Makoto but still simple with not much originality.

Byakuya: 6/10 Out of all the characters who could have worn a jacket incorrectly, they choose McRich for the job. I hate it. But outfit is fine I guess.

Mondo: 10/10 So ridiculous and in character. Love it.

Leon: 5/10 What are you, scottish? The shoes ruin everything for me they’re so ugly smh. I know I can’t draw shoes either but what are those

Hifumi: 0/10 Look Hifumi, I know your character gets too much hate but I gotta say: Ew.

Hiro: 6.5/10 I like the outfit. But my guy, that color is piss. If you had just changed the color I would have added 2 points.

Sayaka: 7/10 Like Makoto, it’s nice but that’s it.

Kyoko: 9/10 Damn, she look classy as hell. I don’t like that much whatever is going on with the sleeves but the rest looks stunning.

Hina: 10/10 My girl looks SPLENDID in yellow. And the flowers are great too, I just love her. Plus that smile <3

Toko: 8/10 It’s nice, I like the bun(s?) and the dress looks good. The flower in her hair is a nice touch and the colors fit her.

Sakura: 9/10 My girl looks great in buns (+ flower). I like the kimono a lot but the colors used irks me just a tiny bit. Still love her, though.

Celeste: 8.5/10 I wish that veil was a bit more transparent so I could see her dress in it’s entirety. Either way, she looks stunning and that hairpiece is just in character.

Junko: 9/10 The dress looks fantastic, the mask is a nice touch but I feel like she would have been perfect with loose hair.

Chihiro: 7/10 Say what you want about the onceler, I like that outfit. Very cute but the socks(?) give me the same vibe as Miu’s bondage gear and mmmm don’t like that

Hajime: 7.5/10 See Makoto above but a little 0.5+ for that flower.

Nagito: 8.5/10 I’m a sucker for boys with tied hair, as you may already know. White looks nice on him, and the outfit is nice.

Twogami: 4/10 You just took Hifumi’s ugly outfit and put a fur coat on it. It doesn’t look that bad since it’s at least less flashy, but I just don’t vibe.

Gundham: 6/10 The outfit is okay I guess but are you telling me that this guy wouldn’t choose something 100 times more extra? He looks so plain. Give him the crazy outfit he deserves.

Kazuichi: 6/10 You fucking disaster. You just took your jumpsuit and made it fancy. This is so damn ridiculous, but I can still see some appeal in it but like, you’re a disaster man. Also nice glasses bro

Teruteru: 10/10 I love it. The vibe it has,,, I love this. The colors, the simpleness yet effectiveness, it’s just perfect.

Nekomaru: 6.5/10 It’s fine, I guess. It does fit him, but I don’t see that much stuff that could be considered out of the ordinary in a good way.

Fuyuhiko: 7.5/10 Palette color is good but like. The outfit is peak bisexual. I don’t even hc him as bisexual.

Akane: 10/10 THAT’S MY GIRL. She is more of a queen than Sonia will ever be, I’m sorry. She is rocking with that cape. And the outfit is great.

Chiaki: 7/10 It’s cute and effective, it fits her. I don’t like her hair that much for some reason, but overall she looks neat.

Sonia: 6/10 What do you mean this isn’t a miss universe contest? I can’t vibe, I’m sorry. It looks nice, but it feels more like a popular girl’s dress than who Sonia really is.

Hiyoko: 7.5/10 It looks better than her in-game outfit, at least. The colors suit her, I like it.

Mahiru: 7/10 I have mixed feelings. I love the dress, but the headband is a huge no from me. Little plus for the flower, though.

Mikan: 1/10 Who thought this was a good outfit? Genuinely curious.

Ibuki: 9/10 This is so damn extra, I love it. So many ribbons for nothing, it almost gives a Touhou vibe. But the outfit itself? Horrendous color palette, but it fits because it’s Ibuki.

Peko: 9/10 Opposite of Ibuki on the same spectrum. It’s calm, classy anyway, and fits Peko. I don’t have anything to say, it’s just really good. Nice flower btw

Rantaro: 7/10 Outfit is fancy af, but you would have a better grade if it wasn’t for that damn fedora.

Kokichi: 7/10 Who the fuck wears purple socks with white shoes? Also as I said before, he looks like the type of person who gets drunk before coming to the party. Outfit’s good, but once you get to the details it’s a disaster.

Keebo: 4/10 I do not vibe. I don’t know what I’m looking at. Is this another armor? Is this an outfit on the armor? I don’t know. Scarf looks a bit out of place. Also Keebo, wearing your jacket like Hiro doesn’t suit you I’m sorry.

Gonta: 4/10 I do. do not vibe. Too many squares? Too green? idk what bothers me the most. Also he gave me a heart attack the first time I saw him bc I thought he had cut his hair.

Shuichi: 6.5/10 After those two disasters I am glad to see someone at least decent. The color palette doesn’t suit him that much, but I can respect it.

Kiyo: 10/10 The guy is so classy it hurts. I don’t even know if that’s a skirt or pants but either way I love it. This outfit just suits him 100%.

Ryoma: 3/10 What the fuck is this. What. What is this. This hat reaches Touhou levels of ridiculousness. It’s horrible. The outfit is kinda better than whatever some of them have going on but holy shit the hat ruins everything for me.

Kaito: 9/10 The coat is fantastic. Black with tiny moons and stars + a space interior? That’s beyond perfect. Outfit is nice, although I would have liked a different color for the vest and the pants.

Kaede: 8/10 It’s simple and effective. I really like the flowers but still, I can’t get used to Kaede’s haircut. At this this one has cute flowers and ribbons.

Miu: 8.5/10 Now you would think that with what Mikan got, Miu would get something super revealing, but this is surprisingly not the case. It’s very original and it suits her a lot, especially the huge sleeves.

Tsumugi: 7/10 The dress is nice, but that’s pretty much it. I like how she tied her hair, it does look nice. Also those shoes are weird tbh

Tenko: 9/10 I was wrong. This is, in fact, a mini-short. She looks so classy and I love the new placement of the hairpin. She looks a lot like a talentswap Magician!Tenko and I love it. So classy. Very good.

Kirumi: 10/10 That’s peak fancy. I just. I love. her. She’s so fucking great like the elegance, the classiness, everything is perfect. I believe in Kirumi supremacy.

Maki: 3/10 I’m sorry I hate this dress. It had good potentiel but the color palette irks me. No. I can’t. Hair looks nice tho.

Himiko: 8/10 It’s just so damn cute. Idk if the space theme is a reference to her beta design but either way, I love it.

Angie: 8/10 A different kind of fancy. I like the large pants, it does fit her vibe. Also that veil is cool af.

39 notes · View notes

miracul0us-multishipper · 4 years

Text

You (Part 2)

Now you see me, now you don’t!

Part 1 | AO3

Felix Graham De Vanily was, in his own humble opinion, special.

He was smart.

He was composed.

He knew exactly what to say and when, and he could make people see exactly what he wanted them to see.

He wasn’t his cousin, after all, almost identical looks aside. Adrien never knew when to speak up, or when it was better to stay quiet. Never knew how to hide his thoughts and keep his - utterly unrealistic, when it came to his father - hopes in check. And he might be smarter than Felix gave him credit for, but all that intelligence left him as soon as his friends were concerned.

That was what all his flaws boiled down to, really.

Adrien made the fatal, unforgiving mistake of caring too much. Always had.

(It was what Felix liked about him, deep down. Adrien was genuine, in everything he felt. Felix envied him for the ease with which he made friends.)

But.

Felix wasn’t like Adrien at all. He was too smart to care for people - his mother aside - any more than he had to. Mundane distractions. Friends, crushes - all things that would only deter him from his path in life: high above the crowd, always the center of attention, yet unreachable. Playing everyone, but gone before anybody noticed.

It was a glorious but lonely road. No, scratch that. It was a lonely but glorious road. Much better.

He didn’t need anything or anyone.

He was the sole and solemn genius of the family.

He was a magician, who didn’t need any fancy jewelry to work miracles - just the right distraction and disguise.

He was-

“Ow!”

Groaning Felix looked at the little bite marks on his finger.

“Were you even listening?! Or did you just wait for an opportunity to stab me in the back?”

The black and white bundle of fur and betrayal on his lap meowed and swiped at his hand, now out of reach.

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”, he grumbled and shoved the traitor off of his legs, but couldn’t help but smile when he smugly licked his nose - as if to say: I'd do it again. “I raised you too well. Now, where was I?”

He sighed.

“Ah, yes. I don’t care for anyone - please stop scratching that ear, honey, it’s not healed yet - because I'm just too smart for that. So it’s utterly impossible that I, Felix Graham de Vanily, am in love with Dupain-Cheng. Got it?”

His cat, the little bastard, answered by knocking his pencil box over and started to chew on a pen. Felix narrowed his eyes.

“Oh? You dare doubt my word?”

With quick fingers he stole his cat's spoils and placed it out of his reach.

“Quite bold for a creature without opposable thumbs, hm?”

Insulted, the poor, thumbless pet retreated to his laptop and laid down on the keyboard - causing the screensaver to give way to the last opened tab. Which was Marinette's Instagram page.

“Wah!”

Hurried to hide the proof of his interest - as if she might somehow appear in his room if he looked at her picture for too long - he shooed his pet away and closed the tab. Said pet meowed smugly and, upset about being chased away from two spots already, sat down on his pillow. Great.

“You did that on purpose!”, he accused his cat. “But that tab proves nothing. It was merely a passing interest in her admittedly wearable work. It has nothing to do with any confessions - faked confessions, or that she can apparently recognize me in disguise, or the very neutral fact that she is cute, by some people's - not my own! - standards.”

His cat blinked. And sneezed onto his pillow.

“Bless you. Now move, or I’ll use you instead of a bunny for that hat trick I’m working on.”

Sighing, Felix let himself fall backwards onto his bed, grabbing the fleeing cat and burying his face in the fluffy fur.

“Oh, to be a cat!”, he wailed into his involuntary comfort pillow. “With no troubles except how to best annoy his owner.”

The poor animal hissed and escaped his grasp, saving himself from the bitter fate of a comfort pillow.

“Run, you uncaring monster.”, Felix sighed, “Leave me to my worries. Which don’t include Marinette at all, by the way.”

He sat up and watched as the little traitor turned to sulk on his dresser.

“Stop looking at me like that. Even if I had a short bout of interest - possibly even infatuation! It’s already all but cured.”

He nodded to himself, ignoring that the disinterested cat had begun cleaning his leg instead of listening.

“School's closed, after all!”, he hummed, scrolling through the news on his phone. “And social contacts are to be reduced to the bare minimum. So I’m not going to see her again before this passing interest has... well, passed.”

As if in response to his words, his laptop started to ring and the monitor lit up with the picture of blue, blue eyes and a smile that could melt the stars off of the sky. Not that he paid attention to such things.

“Oh no, no, no!”, he panted as he fell out of his bed and stumbled towards the computer. “Incoming Skype call?! Oh, come on!”

The ringtone repeated itself and Felix jumped.

“What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?”

Panicking, he looked at his pet.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”

The addressed party blinked. And went back to licking his nuts.

“Argh! I am surrounded by incompetence!”

Taking a deep breath, Felix straightened his vest and cravat - just because he was staying at home for the foreseeable future didn’t mean that he would dress any less professionally.

“Who needs your advice anyway. I can do this.”

He straightened his back and sat down on the chair in front of his desk.

“I am Felix Graham de Vanily, the best actor in all of France and the United Kingdom, not in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I can totally answer a Skype call.”

Before he could think again, he pressed the green button.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng!”, he greeted overly enthusiastic. “We meet again.”

“If you can call it that.”, Marinette laughed with the voice of a goddamn angel. She was wearing a white, polka-dotted pajama top, was illuminated by early-noon sunlight falling through some sort of window in the ceiling, and her hair – was – down.

If this was some sort of cosmic test, it wasn’t fair.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your virtual company?”, he said quickly, trying not to think too much about how her hair looked even softer than the fur of a certain cat. Then, for good measure, he added: “Miss me already?”

Marinette disappeared for a moment, before returning with a sizable stack of papers.

“As much as I could do without my favorite pain in the neck, we have a school assignment to do. You know, since school is closed?”

She leaned in and he held his breath.

“Did you even notice? I haven’t seen you last Friday.”

What was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I noticed alright! It kept me from embarrassing myself by avoiding you, because my brain got all mushy ever since you fake-confessed to me pretending to be my cousin?

Ha! Fat chance.

“Aw, worried for me?”, he improvised, as usual, by being sarcastic. “Let me soothe your concern for your favorite pain in the neck: I merely got tired of cosplaying Adrien. I'm a very busy man, you see?”

She rolled her eyes and somehow managed to make it look cute.

“Of course you are. Well, hopefully not too busy for a presentation on marine biology, due next week.”

He blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the one Adrien and I are supposed to do?”

Felix Had Questions. For example:

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t hack into Adriens E-mail account. I saw you present homework that you couldn’t have known about if Madame Mendeleiev hadn’t emailed you, as Adrien.”

She raised an eyebrow, in a way that could almost be described as playful.

“Plus, you seem the type to do that.”

He scoffed and crossed his arms, as if it would hide his racing heartbeat.

“First of all: No, I am not breaking into my cousins account. I may like to prank him - or rather everyone, really - but that goes a little far. Secondly, that Lila girl was only too eager to do homework with Adrien-Me, so I could keep up with every assignment once I could get her hands off of me.”

“I thought a magician never revealed his tricks?”

True. But he had wanted to see if she would get jealous. Which she didn’t. Which was expected and totally fine by him. He didn’t care anyways.

Lucky for him, Marinette wanted to tease him more than an answer.

“Well, I hope your work ethic is better when it comes to presentations. I'll send you the materials!”

A click later, his laptop alerted him of One New Email, containing no less than twenty-two pages of material. He raised his eyebrows.

“Not to crush your little illusion of me as a hard-working student, but that looks like awfully tedious work. What makes you think I would voluntarily do homework meant for Prince Charming?”

The sassy little smirk she'd shown him during their battles of wit last week returned.

“You mean, aside from the fact that, once school is open again and Adrien is back, your little trick with pretending to be him will be revealed? And that I’m your best chance not to be chased out of town by a very angry Chloé Bourgeois? Not to start with Alya, Rose and Juleka, who still haven’t forgiven you for that stunt you pulled the last time you were here.”

Sound argument, he had to give her that.

“Pah!”, he said, just for the sake of irritating her. “So what? It’s not like it was my idea to move to Paris anyway!”

That was at least partially true. His mother had insisted to come back to France, mostly because she wanted to keep an eye on Gabriel. But he hadn’t been against it either.

It wasn’t like he had friends in London anyway, and in Paris it at least didn’t get boring, with all these butterflies and superheroes. Plus, he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he had missed Adrien. That boy could use a little family - once Felix was done pretending to be him.

Marinette hummed and tapped her chin impatiently.

“Well, then see it as the prize you promised me after our little insult-match at the Trocadero.”

“Wait, wait, wait!”, he held up his hands. “I already settled that score, didn’t I? You confessed to me, remember?”

“I practiced confessing to Adrien with you, you mean.”, she reminded him with a raised eyebrow – Ouch, by the way – before leaning back in her pink chair. “And that was because you talked me into it. I never told you what I wanted, did I?”

Well, fuck. Not that the prospect of working with Marinette was that unpleasant, but in his current state of emotional confusion, it would only be detrimental. He needed an out, an excuse!

“Why would you want to work with me anyways? I would have thought you'd jump at the chance to do something with Prince Adrien of Dreamland. Why settle for the pain in the neck?”

Marinette sighed.

“Adrien is still recovering from his flu, and given the current, ah, global situation, I thought it would be better to put his health first. Besides, you're my favorite pain in the neck.”

“I'm flattered, darling”, he said, trying not to sound like it was as true as it was, “but-“

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette interrupted him with a shout, and suddenly her eyes dominated the entire screen, as if she were mere millimeters away from her own computer. “Felix! What is that?!”

“Huh?”, he made, eloquent as usual. He turned around, just in time to see his traitorous cat jump from the dresser right onto his lap. Apparently, now that Felix had someone else to talk to, the little bastard felt neglected.

“You mean him?”, he asked, turning back to the screen with the cat in his lap. An inhuman squeal came from the other side of the line and Marinette sacked back into her chair, which spun around its axis, like, three times in a single second.

“Felix Graham de Vanily!”, she said with all but glowing eyes. “Show – me – the cat!”

Since her voice made absolutely clear that it had been an order and Felix had always had a strong survival instinct, he obediently held up the little monster. Who let out a plaintive little “Mow”, but otherwise submitted to his fate.

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette repeated, “He's adorable!”

“You think?”, Felix said dumbly, at a loss for how to react to this sudden change in situation.

“I do! I do! What's his name?”

“Uh...”, Felix thought, debating whether a lie would save his reputation. “Uhm...”

“Don’t tell me you named him Felix Junior!” She turned towards the cat in false exasperation. “Did he name you Felix Junior?!”

The cat that was most certainly not named Felix Junior meowed in his feline confusion.

“No, of course not!”, Felix snapped back, sinking into the chair as if it might have mercy and swallow him.

“Then what's his name? What, for God’s sake, is this pretty little kitty called?!”

What had his life turned into?

“'dini.”, he mumbled, hiding his face behind the cat.

“What? Speak louder!”, Marinette demanded, and so he accepted his fate.

“Houdini!”, he groaned in embarrassment. “I named him Houdini, alright? I was eleven!”

For a moment, the line went quiet. Then, inevitably, Marinette burst out in laughter.

“For real? I can’t believe it!”

Sulking, Felix turned away from the screen, but immediately Marinette stopped.

“No, no, no! Bring Houdini back! I love his name, okay? Give him back!”

“You're not telling anybody of him, got it?”, he hissed, cheeks as red as Ladybug's suit. Marinette snickered.

“Of course, I promise. Houdini will be our little secret, alright? Now bring him back!”

Satisfied, Felix turned the chair back towards the laptop and placed Houdini on the desk. The curious thing didn’t hesitate to lounge onto his keyboard and examined the camera, much to Marinette’s delight.

“Oh lord, he's so cute!”

Felix sighed and leaned back.

“Believe me, he knows.”

“He looks just like you!”

At that, Felix spluttered and jumped up again.

“W-w-what?!”

Internally already setting up the equation: “Marinette thinks Houdini is cute, and Marinette thinks Houdini looks like Felix, then Marinette thinks Felix is cute?” he was about two seconds from fainting.

“He's got a little tie, see?”, Marinette giggled on, ignorant of the thought-spiral she'd sent him into. “Just like you!”

Oh. She meant the patterns of his fur, which admittedly looked a little like he was wearing a tie. Of course.

“Who's the most adorable thing in Paris? You are!”, Marinette continued with her shameless adoration of that undeserving little brat, who currently Mow-ed happily at the screen. Pah!

“Just so you know, he bites people for fun.”, Felix badmouthed his own pet, absolutely not because he was jealous. “You can’t trust him. He'll act sweet, but as soon as you're not looking he's got your fingers between his sharp little fangs!”

“Eh, I can handle it.”, Marinette shrugged and immediately went back to admiring Houdini. “You're a good kitty, aren’t you? The best, the best! Yes, you are!”

“No, he's not!”, Felix insisted through clenched teeth. “He's moody and arrogant! Nobody likes him, that's why I took him in! He thinks it’s fun to hurt people, he holds grudges forever and he's incredibly annoying when he's bored!”

Wait, was he still talking about the cat?

“You just like him because he looks all cute and innocent, but if you knew him, you'd never even want to be in the same room as him.”

Marinette had gone quiet on the other side, and Houdini narrowed his eyes at him in betrayal. Then she shrugged.

“If you don’t want him anymore, I'll take him in.”

“What?!”

She would have to pry the little shit out of his cold, dead hands!

“Did you not listen to a word I said?” he asked, trying not to let on that he didn’t actually dislike Houdini.

Marinette smiled.

“Sure. But I still think he's a good kitty.”

“But why?”

She hummed, pushing her stack of papers aside so she could put her elbows on the desk. Resting her chin on her hand, she looked up in him.

“Most cats are. You just got to give them a chance to come out of their shell.”

“But... But he's mean!”

“Maybe he's just lonely. Maybe he needs some friends, and then he'll learn to be nicer. I can wait.”

He was not blushing!

“Why would you want to? There's lots of better cats, you could just pick one of them right away.”

“Yeah, well, I want Houdini. All cats deserve a chance. Even the meaner ones.”

She smiled down at the black and white loaf that purred on his keyboard.

“In my experience, peop- cats only show their best sides if you give them a chance to open up. If you're too quick to brush them aside as hopeless, or mean, you might miss out on the most wonderful personalities underneath. And I think Houdini is one of those.”

And then, because the universe just wanted to see him fall, she winked at him. Jesus Christ!

“Anyway, I'll give you some time to read through the material I sent you. Message me once you’re done, we've got a lot of work ahead. Bye!”

Before he could realize what she had said, the window blanked and closed on him. Disappointed that his fan had vanished, Houdini meowed and returned once again to Felix' lap.

“Bye.”, Felix stammered belatedly. What had just... How could she go around just saying things like that? And then hang up?!

“Ugh, Houdini!”, he lamented. “Look what I have become!”

Reduced to a beetred, stammering, weird-cat-metaphor-using fool!

The cat gave a smug “Mrow” and headbutted him in the chin, but Felix didn’t have it in him to complain.

“Fine,” he sighed in defeat, “you win. So what if I like her?”

Houdini purred.

“You do too, don’t you? Bet you'd bite her anyway.”

He purred on, unperturbed.

“Knew it.”

He sighed once again.

“She's right, though. You are a good kitty. Deep down.”

Houdini meowed and licked his finger, just where he'd bitten him earlier.

“Well, now you're just sucking up to me! Two-faced little demon. Mwah!”

He pressed a small kiss to the top of his furry head, then rolled the chair closer to the desk and opened his emails.

“Alright, then.”, he tried to motivate himself, “let's show Marinette what a good kitty- what a good person we are and do our homework.”

At that, Houdini promptly stood up and jumped onto the bed, leaving him alone with twenty-two pages of reading material.

“Bastard.”

- - -

Bonus:

Ladybug, crashing through Felix' window: Felix Graham de Vanily!

Felix: Ladybug?!

Ladybug: I have it on good authority that you own a good kitty! It is crucial for the safety of Paris that I pet him right this instant!

Felix, remembering her right hook: ... sure?

#miramu writes #felinette fluff #felinette #felix/marinette #canon!felix #marinette dupain cheng #felix graham de vanily #its corona time

522 notes · View notes

mammonxluciferismykink · 4 years

Text

Slightly Yandere Lucifer x Mammon x Asmodeus

When Mammon first knocked on Asmo’s door Asmo thought he’d get a lecture, he groaned in annoyance nearly slamming the door in the older demon’s face not wanting to deal with him. It’s not like he had done anything wrong tonight either so what was the big idea?!

Asmo went to curse the demon for being at his door at this time but then he looked at him in the face and noticed the needy look the other held there. It froze him for a second, the heavy blush on the other’s dark cheeks, the slight panting coming from him, the messy hair and slight shivering.

Anyone else would have probably thought the male had come down with a cold but not Asmo, definitely not...especially when he could smell Mammon. Mammon smelled of Death Rose, a sweet and sour mix of scents. He smelled ‘wet’, needy, a bit like precum. He smelled simply delicious. Asmo then let it hit him like a truck.

Mammon was in heat.

Asmo blinked before looking out looking to the left then the right of the hallway. Mammon’s gaze followed what he was doing, a hint of confusion but he went to speak anyway.

“A-Asmo...I um..EEK!”

The demon squeaked after being yanking in and slammed against the wall. Asmo kicking the door closed holding his hands against the wall pinning him there. The fact that Mammon was here could only mean one thing, he wanted release and there was no one better than himself. Mammon shivered as Asmo pressed his thigh between his legs, he could already feel how hard he was in his pants nudging his thigh and listening as Mammon whimpered.

Oh yes he was definitely going to take this opportunity, before anyone else could steal it from him.

It was strange though, Asmo was terry sure Lucifer kept tabs on things like this but here Mammon was, twitching for release. Asmo simply chuckled pressing close pushing their chest together. He was the Avatar of List after all, what would he be to not help in this time in moment. Asmo’s lips found Mammon’s neck pressing a kiss against it before he started to nibbles down it. Mammon panting a bit harder as he moved his head in order to give more room.

“So you need me to rearrange you don’t you? Stick my cock inside and breed you? Mark you up like some used toy?”

Asmo purred, voice smooth like silk. Mammon moaned when Asmo drew his fangs before sinking them into his throat. His his bucked again, harder, as he arched off the wall rolling his hips. Asmo’s fangs produced aphrodisiac which usually kicked in very quickly for humans, however even if it would take Mammon a little longer since he was a demon it would still work.

Mammon flexed his hands like he wanted to do something, to push Asmo away or closer Asmo didn’t know nor did he really care. He was starting not to be able to think straight either, not with his older brother whimpering and shaking against him. Asmo picked Mammon up, his hands cupping his ass cheeks, kneeding the mounds. Mammon yelped and hugged onto him not to fall, blush growing deeper. Asmo dumped them both onto the bed, a loud squeal of protest coming from their combined weight.

Asmo peeled away from Mammon who whines at the lost of touch only to get a harsh kiss in order to shut him up.

“Shh, Shh. Don’t worry Nii-San, I’ll spread your boy pussy in no time..”

He hummed against humanity before pulling away again. He pull his shirt over his head showing his body with was covered in lean muscle, his skin a lovely peach color. He practically ripped open Mammon’s shirt showing the slightly more rippled body, the difference in their colors making everything aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Asmo nearly came imagining how his cock would look diving deep inside Mammon..

As Asmo fought with a passion to get his pants unbuckled Mammon moves a hand around him before running it through his hair. Without much thought Asmo purred again at the touch, it was soothing, loving, and gentle as if Mammon was more than a one night thing. Asmo pauses to look up at him again as Mammon pulled him into another kiss. This time more passionate then the first and Asmo blushed a little before moaning, he pushed his tongue against the other’s lips who happily accepted him.

in order not to fall Asmo put his hands on each side of Mammon as their tongues slid together. His body in between Mammon’s legs forcing him to stay open as Mammon wrapping his arms around Asmo’s shoulders. With her lovey doves they were being it was a wonder how they even fought in the first place. Sometimes they argued so much that it was really questionable if Asmo hated him or if it didn’t matter to Mammon.

However right now, they could see through each other. Asmo didn’t hate Mammon and Mammon did care, he cared a lot. Asmo pulled back from the kiss first panting for air before kissing down Mammon’s chest making the older demon bite his lip in anticipation.

He didn’t need to apologize with words, Mammon already knew. Asmo took a nipple in his mouth rolling it in between his teeth as he pressed his hips firmly against Mammon’s. Mammon moaned, legs twitching as he tossed his head back in bliss and then the door opened.

Mammon jerked kicking the younger off him who yelped and tumbled off the bed. They both looked at the door to see Lucifer, wide eyed and frozen. Mammon got up on shaky legs.

“L-Lucifer! I-I can explain..”

The thing is, he couldn’t and Lucifer knew that. Asmo cursed as he rubbed his back from the fall and Lucifer found himself closing the door behind them. There was nothing to explain, they were both almost naked. Chest out, Mammon’s cock standing in the open and Asmo’s boxers still barely on. Lucifer didn’t say anything until he noticed to two puncture wounds on the Avatar of Greed’s neck. He wrapped his large hand around Mammon’s throat pulling him close to examine to mark.

He then sighed in relief before looking at Asmodeus who was staring in awe. Lucifer then pushed Mammon back onto the bed not caring for how the male yipped at the treatment. Asmo felt himself grow harder at Lucifer peeled off his gloves with his teeth dropping them to the floor. Was Lucifer, going to join them? Asmo get back on the bed quickly with a grin as Lucifer pulled open his vest and tugged his shirt over his head. He was ripped and Mammon along with Asmo couldn’t help but blush.

“Asmo..you should have reported him to me. This is my responsibility after all..”

The oldest demon commented as he climbed on top of Mammon who simply averted his gaze completely shy. Asmo tilted his head a little before humming.

“How could I? He came to me so cute and needy, I had to take my chance..”

Asmo argued a little. This is what he was talking about when he said his chances could be stolen. He was a little annoyed. Lucifer slapped Mammon who yelped, Asmo gasped at how quick it was. He went to say something but found Mammon biting his lip, his cock even squirted out some loads of precum.

”Bad boy, you know to come to me first. Do I need to mark you again?”

Lucifer grumbled as he brought his fangs out raking them down the other side of Mammon’s neck, Mammon shivered pulling at Lucifer’s hips wanting him closer, his nails digging into his skin at how desperate he was for touch. Lucifer hummed, his eyes lighting up before he bit down, a popping sound could be heard as Mammon cried out, tossing his head back.

“S-Shit! Lucy!~”

He whined as Lucifer’s symbol printed itself into Mammon’s skin. Lucifer licked up some of the running blood leaving a dark hickie before he looked at Asmo who was a deep shade of red at the point. Lucifer chuckled and kissed his head before moving down to his ear to whisper. Mammon poured at the action.

“He’s mine. Tonight will be the only night I’m sharing him with you, so don’t grow used to it.”

Asmo shivered nodding immediately but deep in his mind he wondered what that meant. Had, Lucifer and Mammon been doing this for a while? Sure they made jokes, Satan, Leviathan, and himself but he would have never thought it to be true. However Lucifer was here and Mammon was whining for him like a puppy to its owner. It had to be true. Tonight sure was an interesting one.

The only way Lucifer has found Mammon was his scent, he knew it well. He’s fucked Mammon many times to know that scent, to have it memorized in his head like a natural barcode. When he hadn’t found him in his room he knew he went somewhere else, finding Asmo on top of his lover annoyed Lucifer quite a lot but, this also meant he could teach a lesson as well as take care of his lover.

Lucifer ended up under Mammon, his chest against his back as they all laid naked now. His cock sliding against Mammon’s slippery tight rim. He held his legs open for Asmo to see everything, his hands on the back of his thighs as Mammon moaned and shuddered at the teasing. Asmo rubbed himself a couple times before pressing in the tight rim. Mammon gasped grabbing the other’s face and pulling him close kissing him hard moaning loudly against his mouth when the younger demon slammed in groaning at how tight the greed demon was.

Asmo kisses him back, all sloppy and wet as he gave powerful, thrust. Lucifer hummed, chuckling a little. He didn’t blush often but right now he had pink over his cheeks. The plan was to have Asmo stretch out Mammon a bit before he entered as well.

“A-Asmo!~” the older demon whimpered, his own cock twitching. He reached down to grab it but Asmo slapped his hand away glaring. Lucifer wondered if it was strange to be proud of that form of dominance but then again everything happening was strange. It was strange thousands of years ago when he and Mammon first started this. It had been a secret for years, no one knew but now Asmo knew but Lucifer trusted him to keep a secret.

Lucifer slowly pushed in and Mammon jerked, his hole spasming as Asmo slowed down his thrust in order not to hurt his older brothers.

“W-Wait!” Mammon gasped out. Lucifer kisses the mark he made watching as it glowed. He sucked his skin before nipping the flesh watching Mammon completely break down from pleasure and pain. Lucifer was now completely inside, Asmo panting, it was all so tight. Mammon hugging them and Lucifer’s larger cock rubbing against his own, not to mention the awfully erotic face Mammon was making up at him. Asmo was a bit worried, he might cum sooner then he thought he would...

When Mammon was ready Lucifer rolled his hips hugging the other to his chest as Mammon grabbed hold to his hand, squeezing it as he tossed his head back to cry out again. Asmo moves with his, his chest drenched in sweat as he looked down between Mammon’s legs watching intently as Lucifer’s and his own cock disappeared and reappeared out his stretched hole. Lewd sounds filling the dark room, precum running down Mammon’s thighs, damn...he was gonna cum.

Asmo grabbed Mammon’s ankles as he rocked his hips in and out, his chest heaving as he pressed a kiss to his ankle. Asmo’s eyes were catlike at this point, full of lust and he gave a sudden powerful thrust as he came, cum flooding Mammon’s insides as the second born screamed. Lucifer covered his mouth as Asmo panted heavily above them before pulling out falling back.

Lucifer chuckled as Asmo tried to gain his breath. Now he could teach his lesson. He flipped them over, pull Mammon’s hips up forcing him on all fours. Mammon gave a light purr and Lucifer kissed his shoulder before grabbing his hands and yanking them. He gave a harsh thrust, one that made the whole bed shake and Mammon had to bury his head in the pillows to keep himself from crying out.

“L-Lucy!~ oh annh! Oh s-shit!” Mammon wailed as Lucifer pounded him into the bed like he hated him. Asmo watched in fascination as Mammon struggled to stay quiet. Lucifer pressed firmly against his back, cooing at him as his thrust grew harder. He let go of one of Mammon’s hands to wrap his around his throat tightly chuckling as Mammon bagged and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“You’re mine, only mine. You belong to no one except me. Do you understand?”

He growled against Mammon who bucked uncontrollably as Lucifer found his sweet spot. He was drooling now, cheeks a dark red and fangs out. He was going to cum, he was going to cum, oh fuck he was going to cum! Mammon nodded, saying yes in whatever way he could while Lucifer cut off his air supply. Asmo didn’t know how long this was going on but he could see the fucked up love behind it.

Mammon arched like a bow as he came with a broken scream, his hole tightening around Lucifer yanking his orgasm from him. Lucifer gave one last deep, brutal thrust before he let go of Mammon’s other hand and throat, grabbing his hips hard enough to leave deep bruises as he came inside. Mammon cried again ripping holes into the bed as he came as well.

Lucifer kisses him to which Mammon weakly smiled. No one could fuck him like Lucifer could. Lucifer pulled out kissing Mammon’s back before pulling his clothes back on. He didn’t bother to ask about Mammon’s clothes since they had been torn up but he picked up his brother. He gave a simple smile to Asmo seeing his bright red face before turning away and leaving with the other.

Sorry it’s a little messy. I was simply in a rush to get this first chapter out uwu.

#obey me asmodeus #shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #lucifer x mammon x asmodeus #polyamourous #oh yes asmo

51 notes · View notes

headoverhiddles · 5 years

Text

Universally Loathsome - Marilyn Manson x Reader

Synopsis: After his show at the Hard Rock in Orlando, you and your man put your complimentary Universal Studios park passes to good use.

Notes: I wrote this because Universal Florida is my happy place, and I need a pick me up right now lol. Also, this takes place right after this concert, so Heaven Upside Down era.

His lazy drawl fills the Hard Rock Cafe arena, as the strobes go crazy.

"I love you beautiful motherfuckers so much," he points to the crowd, to a response of deafening cheers, "Florida's where it all started for me, and... I almost got arrested for indecent exposure in Jacksonville, which is... pretty close to here." More cheering. "So if any willing gentlemen in the crowd would like to come up here... and let me put my dick in their mouth..." The cheers grow. "...History can repeat itself." He grins, stumbling around and leaning on the mic stand. "I wonder what would happen if I... oops," he pops the top button of his vest open. "Oh no, I can't believe I just showed you all my tits, ahh, I'm such a slut..."

The crowd is going absolutely insane, and he winks over to you suggestively. You watch your boyfriend, trying to hold in your giggles. He's in what he likes to call rascal mode tonight, you can tell. And good thing-- you two roped complimentary passes inside the theme park for the rest of the night to celebrate, so he can let out all this energy after the show. The regular park closes in a half an hour, horror nights too, with it being Halloween, but the extra hour is just for you two, paid for well no doubt.

After Mar's done and the strobes distract the audience enough for him to bound off stage, he runs into your open arms. After you hug your sweaty man, he picks you up, spinning you around and smiling like a big kid.

"Let's go play."

"Shower first," you give him a stern look. He nods, resigning himself to the fact that he's really gross and covered in sticky glitter makeup.

You hang out backstage as he gets cleaned up, saying goodnight to some of the roadies. You check social media and search for this concert, as you do sometimes just for fun, and see people already sharing photos they'd taken of Marilyn screaming or wading into the crowd.

You snort to yourself, and save one that looks right up his nostril. Beautiful angle, and perfect for blackmail when he's being a dick.

"Let's do this."

You turn, and see him dressed in a hoodie that reminds you of the full body zip from his High End Of Low days.

"I know what you're thinking, and no, this is not the depression hoodie," he sticks a finger in your face and wags it. "I burned that a long time ago." You pretend to bite his finger, and take his arm.

Your bodyguards, who warily agreed to leave the two of you alone once you get into the park, lead you down, out the back door of the hotel venue, and through a citywalk shortcut to the front gates of Universal Studios Orlando.

"I haven't been here since I was a teenager," you grin, listening to the entrance music and sighing from the nostalgia. "This has always been my happy place."

"I've literally never been here," he tells you, "We go to the one back home in LA, but I've never been to this one myself. I used to live here but I only ever wreaked havoc on Disney with Twiggy."

"Oh, Universal was spared?"

"Until now, yeah. So you'll have to be my tour guide here." He takes his sunglasses from his face, hands them off, and turns to his guards. "Okay, that's fine, we're fine."

"Sir, we really think--"

"We talked to the park operators, and there's like... nobody here right now, we're both fine," Marilyn insists, "Bye." So, you two are left alone as you walk toward the gates.

Your passes are scanned by an older woman who doesn't seem to recognize Marilyn, since his name on the pass is Brian. For the best. To your left, towers one of your favourite rides.

"The Rip Ride Rockit," Marilyn reads the sign, "Ooh. Ooh, I wanna do this. Fuckin cool looking."

"Bri, you get sick on roller coasters."

"I'm too drunk to be sick, the drunk sick makes me not motion sick."

"Well, glad to hear your body has a system," you sigh, and he takes your hand as you two run toward the lit up ride.

"You get to pick your song as you ride," he muses, "Motherfuckers should have my songs on here."

Because he likes to stir shit up and see what he can get away with, Marilyn uses a VIP lanyard with his face on it to get into the express lane.

"Uh..." the young employee hesitates, frowning, "Sir, this is a meet and greet for that concert, not for--" Marilyn puts his hood down, and the guy's eyes widen. He waves you both through, starstruck.

"Whoever said you shouldn't use your fame to get stuff... probably wasn't even famous," Marilyn says, pulling you up the steps.

"What's the hurry?" you laugh, trying to keep up, "You're just gonna throw up all over me anyway."

"It's a music ride, that's very exciting to me," he says. You can't deny you've missed this ride too, so you keep up.

You're the only two on the roller coaster train as you both pull the bar over from the side to strap yourselves in. The employee working comes over to check, and gives a thumbs up to the operator.

"Give me a handjob," he giggles.

"No! I'm gonna rip your dick off if we do that on this!"

"Nah, that'd happen like... on the Mummy." Apparently he remembers what the Mummy is like in the LA Universal park, and he's not wrong. "Uh. Uh," he starts to snap his fingers as the ride goes up, "Yeah. Hell yeah."

"What song?" you laugh.

"Stronger, by my boy Kanye."

"He's a dickhead, you know."

"So am I, doesn't make my music any less amazing."

You smirk. You'd picked Stronger as well, anyway.

After the ride, Marilyn hangs onto you, a little bit woozy. "That was a mistake."

"I told you."

"I don't listen, I'm a child, you know this. I don’t like the rides, but the rides like me."

You two walk through the park, past the San Francisco area of the water in the middle.

"This is nice. Just walking."

"Yeah," he says. "It's nice not to vomit." You rest your head on his shoulder, giggling.

You two do a few more rides-- he has way too much fun in Men in Black shooting at everything, and Simpsons becomes a favourite, even if the only part he could keep his eyes open for was the funny queue playing the episodes. He even takes some dark, creepy pictures with the employees in Diagon Alley, posing in his new Slytherin scarf he bought.

"Can this be used for sexy purposes?" he asks one of them, holding up a wand. The girls giggle, and you roll your eyes.

"Um. Wouldn't recommend it," one responds.

"On the other hand..." the second one shrugs, "It's magic. You could just make it into something that could be used for sexy times."

"I like the way this one thinks," Marilyn smirks. "(y/n), I'm gonna use this in you."

"Like hell you are.”

“Please?”

“You can use it to spank me.” You lean in to whisper. “It’s too thin to put it in.”

Marilyn buys the wand just to make up for the trouble he's causing the poor employees.

You head out of Harry Potter world, and circle back around to do ET.

"I wanna do the Mummy again. And what about those big ones across the citywalk thing? Spiderman, he's cool. I wanna do his ride."

"That's the other park. If you wanna deal with your manager having a meltdown by requesting another day here tomorrow, that's your call." He immediately takes out his phone, and you huff, feeling sorry for the guy, always having to rearrange flights last minute.

"Yeah, hey. It's me," Marilyn drawls into the phone, "I need another day here tomorrow. No, I'm just... I'm gonna be really hungover. Lots of vodka and drugs and stuff. Yeah. Amphetamines, got my face in a big... yeah, really bad, I won't be able to fly tomorrow." His eyes light up like a kid in a candy store as he sees the Halloween Horror Nights 2018 tribute store. "Gotta go, I'm snorting coke off (y/n)'s tits. Cancel my flight!"

You both run in, and get shirts from inside-- yours is a Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers one, and his is a Killer Klowns from Outer Space one, with a little clown in boxing gloves on it that says 'Shorty's Boxing Gym: Knocking Blocks Off Since '88." He poses for a picture of the new shirt in front of an old horror movie poster, hands in his jacket pockets and doing his signature sneer. He posts it on his Instagram, captioning it:

Next motherfucker's gonna get my metal. Pic📷: @(y/handle) #justustwoclowns #wannatussle #truelove #wehatelovewelovehate #happyhalloween #universalorlando #shooterjennings.

You head inside the Egyptian crypt that leads to the Mummy, listening to Brendan Fraser's fake interview about the strange things going on on set.

"I met him once," Marilyn tells you, "He was scared of me, he thought I was flirting with him."

"I can see how he would. You're just overly affectionate," you pat his arm.

"And high as fuck, but I wasn't flirting with him. He's too much of a pretty boy for me."

"Yet you still wanna fuck Johnny," you tease him, and he grins, unable to refute that.

You finally get to the loading area after Marilyn stumbles over four posts in the dark queue. The lady there squeals. She's a different one than the one working earlier, and she's obviously a fan.

"Sorry for her," her coworker says, "She's a huge fan of your stuff."

"Nah, it's cool," Marilyn offers a smile.

"I was at the concert, which is why I'm working late," she explains hyperactively, "God, you were soooo amazing!" Marilyn thanks her. She waves at you as well. "By the way, I see your pictures together on insta at shows and premieres and stuff, you two make a really cute couple. Goth icons!" You smile at the girl, and thank her and her coworker for working late for you two. An obligatory selfie later, you and Marilyn get into the ride, and start heading through the darkness. You get to the part where Imohtep's face appears and fire blows beside you.

"You say god," he mutters. "I say Say10."

You get off the ride, and you nearly lose your shit when you see the ride photo. You fall to the floor, and Marilyn looks up at the screen in inquiry.

"Oh my god."

"We're buying it!"

"Absolutely fucking not. Look at my chin!"

"I love your chins, baby."

"I only mentioned one, but thanks."

You dash over to the counter, ordering the picture in the biggest size. It's gold. In it, you've got one hand up happily, the other looped with Marilyn's, and you look generally normal, other than your hair blowing a little from the force of the acceleration. His eyes are glinting yellow from light reflection, so he looks legitimately possessed; he's got his chin pressed down into his neck folds, and his mouth is halfway open, like he just remembered something he wanted to say. It's the most awful picture of him you've ever seen, so naturally, it's getting framed at the house next to his lovely prosthetic limb collection.

"Mm, makes me wanna fuck you," you lick your lips, "Give it to me, baby, I wanna look into those sexy yellow eyes while you destroy my pussy."

"You're fucked up."

You nearly collapse in laughter again.

Despite the terribly candid ride picture, Marilyn decides he likes the Mummy a bit more than the Simpsons, and after riding it four more times without fail, he's nauseous as all hell (as are you) and done in for the night.

You hold hands, heading to the gates. "Hey. Want to stop at Ben and Jerry's on the way out?" you ask.

"Nah," he drawls, hand moving down to your ass and giving it a spank, "You're the only thing I wanna lick tonight." Even motion sick and half-way to hungover, he's still in rascal mode.

A car comes to pick you up, and some press follow you to the car for a bit, taking photos and asking Marilyn for comments on the park and the show until Marilyn wraps his Slytherin scarf around his face. He gets into the car with you, and rolls the window up. The paparazzi obviously saw the Instagram post.

That makes you think...

Messing around on your phone as you're driven back to the hotel, you giggle. Marilyn keeps looking over, but he's currently too nauseous still to speak. You giggle again, and send off what you'd just done.

"Happy Halloween," you grin, punching his shoulder playfully.

He looks at his buzzing phone, and snorts. His bad Mummy picture and stylish posing Instagram picture are side by side, with your accompanying text: "Get you a man who can do both."

129 notes · View notes

atopearth · 4 years

Text

Chrono Trigger Part 2 - Unity Against Lavos & The Parting of Friends

I kinda wish everyone could talk, it’s kinda annoying that only the ones that are in your party will talk. It’s like, I honestly prefer using Frog and Ayla in battle, but story-wise, I much prefer to hear what Lucca and Marle have to say, sigh, such a dilemma lol. Wow, I love Enhasa already. It’s so awesome how you can interact with the book and it goes on fire! Like whoa did not expect that, how cool! Also love how that yellow NPC near the door just up and disappeared, like it really simply and straightforwardly showed how interestingly crazy this place is haha. Wow, I didn’t realise you actually had to open the water, wind and fire books in that order to open a secret door, I just thought it was fun LOL. Okay, those Nu were frustrating when I had a party of Lucca and Marle lol, had to use Frog and Ayla instead to win hahaha, it’s hard to win, they always take you to one HP! If only Marle could cure all loll. Hmm so Janus is probably the prince of this land that supposedly has no magical powers, and was the one with the cat telling Crono and them that they’re going to lose someone important? Lady Schala is his sister and…she’s the one that Kid from Chrono Cross is supposedly a clone of or something right? And Schala has an abundance of magical power apparently~ Hmm, I wonder if the Queen has become crazy or something ever since this random advisor accurately predicting the future appeared, it also sounds pretty crazy that they’re supposedly harvesting power from the Lavos?! Gotta love how our party just loves to jump headfirst into danger, we literally just enhanced the pendant with that glow and jumped into the Queen’s chambers hahahah. I wonder why Marle’s pendant is so unique though. And why does it look identical to Schala’s? Schala seems to be the only one that wants to actually save the kingdom of Zeal before the Queen leads it to ruin by listening to the evil prophet. That golem was easier to kill than the Nu hahaha. I’m shocked that Schala is capable of sealing the gate of passage between the different times though!

Hmmm okay, so the Lavos fell from the sky and then burrowed itself into the planet’s core to suck up all its energy to grow stronger…I wonder if it does that to lots of planets or something. Magus revealed its form and then now it’s taken Death Peak as its throne with the Lavos miniature spawn flowing from the mountaintop making people unable to go near it. I…feel so sorry for Belthasar though… Not only was he trapped in this time, but he was all alone… It’s great that he left all this knowledge and technology behind and it ends up helping Crono and them stop Lavos, but it’s just saddening to think that he spent all this time by himself until old age and probably even into insanity because he felt the need to write down his knowledge before he lost it all. The Epoch is so cool though! To think there’s a machine that can just zoom through to any era we’ve visited! The contrast between the living standards of the Earthbound ones (that possess no magic) and the others is pretty apparent, it’s basically peasants and royalty. It seems that Janus actually does possess latent power that surpasses Schala though (according to Melchior who has been banished to the mountain of woe by the Queen for disagreeing with her harnessing the power of Lavos through the Mammon machine). Honestly though, since Belthasar was one of the gurus of the Zeal kingdom (Guru of Reason), I’m very interested in what the Guru of Life Melchior would be capable of. And I wonder what the last guru is doing now? Getting to Melchior was pretty easy, but it’s kinda saddening how powerless the party feels against Dalton and the Queen, especially since they keep using either the party’s lives or Schala’s life as a hostage. Prettyyyy crazy that they’re trying to achieve immortality through the power of the Lavos, like wow, are any of these people in the castle sane?

Omg, I never expected Crono to use Luminaire! It’s kinda crazy how many things Chrono Trigger and Chrono Cross have in common/referenced. Those Golem sisters/twins were so annoying!! I guess Crono constantly countering them made it so much worse because they just kept countering each other, so I kept dying loll. Well, Lavos just wrecked us badly! Lol! Crono actually survived the first hit though hahaha. Anyway, I’m not sure why I never realised that the Prophet was Magus, like who else could it be?! Hahaha. I wonder why he’s adamant on killing Lavos though. As expected, Magus couldn’t really do anything against him. What was the power Crono showed, was it just his willpower accompanied with something else? Did he really “die” like Janus foresaw? I find it so saddening that so many people died though. I know Schala used her power to get everyone to safety and asked them to not hate her mother or the kingdom and what they had done, but seriously, look at the destruction, look at all the people that had died! They’re literally left with one village worth of people! Her mother was their leader and she led them all to their deaths with her decisions. Lmaoo at what a shit Dalton is. And lmao at the party for getting tricked by him and then getting sent to like a jail or whatever lol. I feel sorry for the rest of the Zeal people though, they’re obviously powerless against Dalton so they probably are forced to listen to him even though they’re so positive about rebuilding… Sigh. Yay, I’m glad we kicked him out for the Zeal kingdom, now they can really properly live in peace! So glad I took Ayla with me since you lose all your equipment, Ayla just uses her fists so it’s all good lolll.

I….honestly didn’t think that the ritual back then where the Gurus were forced by the Queen to activate the Mammon machine (even though they told her it absorbed too much power and could create a dimensional vortex) caused them to be transported to Lavos and then proceedingly sent to different time eras. I didn’t think about that old man in the End of Time to be Gaspar, one of the Gurus! It’s pretty saddening though, everyone basically lived in different worlds after that, but I guess the most innocent one was Magus/Janus who just went to look for his sister, but then got dragged into it, and ended up getting sent to the Middle Ages all alone… It’s kinda ironic isn’t it? The reason he could be a prophet here was because he came from the future, but at the same time, Magus actually belongs in the castle anyway. It’s just saddening that instead of wanting to reunite with his family, he instead survived all this time hoping to summon Lavos again and destroy it for everything that happened. Okay, I didn’t expect to be able to get Magus to join the party! That’s crazy yet cool! I wonder how Frog really feels about it all though, I mean, they’re prioritising saving/reviving Crono right now, but it would be terrible to fight alongside the guy that turned you into a frog and killed your friend… I mean, I understand Magus’ motivations, but it doesn’t change the fact he killed a lot of people in the process of achieving all this. Anyway, I love how Magus flies instead of walking like a peasant lmaooo. Honestly though, I find it kinda sweet how Magus’ accessory is Schala’s amulet, he’s kept it for all these years. I wonder how he felt when he saw her again after all this time…

I’m so glad I can just follow the walkthrough to find all those magic chests we couldn’t open before! I totally forgot where they were hahah. I really liked the idea of the blue vest/plate one though! It’s so cool how it’s like a heirloom or something that the family have kept all this time, so if you get it in 600AD, it’s a blue vest, but if you choose to get it in 1000AD instead, it upgrades into a blue plate! It’s such a cool idea! No idea why it doesn’t downgrade instead but it’s cool! I guess the coolest thing is that Truce Inn survived for 400 years! Ohh wait, you can get both the vest and the plate! Lmaoo, the benefits of time traveling hahahah. I have to admit, it’s kinda weird yet hilarious how when you go to Guardia Castle with Frog and talk to the King and Queen, they praise Frog and thank him blah blah even though Magus is in my party too haha! Why is that Chancellor in Marle/Nadia’s time so dodgy? Is he trying to create a rift between Marle and her father so he can overthrow them or something? Ohhh, Toma the explorer gives you some spirits to pour on his grave if anything were to happen to him! I was wondering who that Toma guy was since he got his own area for a grave but apparently he’s been looking for rainbow shells his whole life. The side quest with Cyrus’ ghost was rather saddening yet nice, I liked how Cyrus really was a true friend and only hoped for the best for Glenn, I’m happy that Frog got to see him and hear that he was proud of the warrior he is today.

Omggg it was honestly so hard to get Crono’s doll clone (as a new body), my buttons are all different and I had no idea what was X and Y etc lol, I ended up having to change the keyboard controls loll. Anyway, aside from that, I also completely forgot where Crono’s house was LOL. Omggg climbing the monster’s shell at Death Peak to climb higher was something I did not expect! Thought the monster was going to revive and attack me lmao. Ohh how interesting, the Chrono Trigger/Time Egg that the Guru of Time aka Gaspar gave to the party allowed them to travel back to right before Crono died?! That’s really cool and interesting though! The fact that they could really just swap his doll for him so that the doll will die instead, and then come back to the present with him. It was honestly so cute to see Lucca hug Crono after getting him back. I loved that moment! Although I didn’t mind a party without Crono (since he doesn’t talk lmao), but walking around and doing stuff without him just felt weird haha.

Gonna do some side quests before the ending so here we go! I love that Ozzie is still alive with his own fort because lmaoo he’s such a silly villain. Loved it when he got some monsters to go against the party and they fell into his own trap because of him lol. They really dislike Magus for joining the humans though lol. LOL at him trying to tempt Crono and them with a treasure chest next to a guillotine hahahaha, the poor imp that got sacrificed though, he just wanted treasure! LMAO at the random cat that came out of nowhere and pressed a switch and caused Ozzie to fall into a hole hahahahaha. Wow, Son of the Sun was so annoying! That stupid roulette to do damage on him lol! It’s really interesting to see and know that you can get the moon stone to get enough Sun by placing it there in Ayla’s time and then just coming back to get it in the present, it’s so crazy loll! Spiced jerky for 9900G?!?! Wow, that is the craziest price ever lol. Okay, wow, that jerky was worth it. I can’t believe we gave it to the family of elders/mayor in 600AD, and because we gave that jerky to the mother for free, she decided that there’s hope and love in sharing with people in this world instead of just believing in money, and because of that, the mayor in 1000AD is now super generous and gives you the moon stone that came into his possession! That’s so crazy but amazing! Lol! I also love the different dialogue by the children and the wife. Previously, the children hated the father and the wife was sad that her husband and the children weren’t getting along at all, but now they love him and she kinda wants him to be just a little less generous lmao. The power of spiced jerky indeed.

Really gotta respect Lucca, like dang, she really knew how to utilise that Sun stone and make something good! Lmao that on her Wondershot, it says play time determines your damage lol! Anyway, I love how Taban is just as crazy amazing as she is and made sunglasses too! It was also really sweet how he made a suit and a helm for Lucca to protect her, he’s such a great dad! The only thing is that the dialogue of the other daughter (LOL, my bad, I realised later that it’s actually Lucca’s mum) seems to still feel kinda left out, I wonder if she’ll be happy later on? It’s saddening that Toma is dead, but I love how his spirit comes to tell them that he found the Rainbow Shell! At least he actually found it!! Now it just comes to Crono and them to actually get it! Okay omg, I didn’t expect to be able to get Crono to sit on the chair and laugh like a maniac at Giant’s Claw LOL, that was so random but awesome. It’s actually kinda amazing that the Chancellor is framing the King (Marle’s dad) for selling off the “royal heirloom” a Rainbow Shell, guess we should be glad we actually do have it when the Chancellor kinda just made it up because he probably thought it would be impossible to find. Lmao, I love Marle. First, she screams and just charges right into the trial, and then when she gets thrown out, she gets evidence of the rainbow shell and then jumps right into the trial through the back hahaha, she’s so cool. The Chancellor was a monster gg! I love how much Leene and them from 600AD revered Crono as a hero, they even made a dish called Crono Special that you can eat here in the present! LOLL I didn’t expect the real Chancellor to be locked up in the treasure chest hahahah! The reconciliation between Marle and her father was pretty heartwarming. They really just never properly communicated and that caused their rift, so I guess it was good that this all happened haha! Gotta give it to Melchior for being able to forge such good weapons and armour in a jiffy with the rainbow shell!

It’s so cool how when you lend Robo to Fiona to make the land green again, you actually see him on the world map grazing stuff hahahah. Wow, Robo literally worked for like 400 years until he practically “died”, at least there’s a nice green forest now, and Lucca has fixed him up! I wonder what exactly these Gates want the party to do, is there some kind of mastermind wanting them to do something throughout the ages? Ohhh Lara is Lucca’s mum! She looks so young! Lol. Anyway, I see, so the reason why Lucca is so obsessed with science, engineering and everything is because her mum nearly got killed by Taban’s contraption when he wasn’t home, so she vowed to learn everything about it all so that it won’t happen ever again. I honestly thought she was just interested because of her Dad, but really, it was because of her mum, she even used to hate it because her dad forgot about promises with her due to research. Oh, so Geno Dome is the actual place Robo is from? His real name is Prometheus? Was Atropos his “partner”? Love how she was a pink robot with a flower lmao, so simple but cute and straightforwardly tells you she’s a girl haha. Kinda sad that this “Mother” overwrote her programs and made her attack Robo and other humans. I wonder who took over them all…or did Atropos and Robo get too “kind” and that didn’t align with their expectations of having these robots befriend humans to get information and knowledge about them to destroy the humans and take over the world? Omg that mother boss was so easy after I learnt my lesson and didn’t use Magus to kill all the panels lmao.

It’s pretty insane how the Queen was the one who caused and allowed Lavos to get enough power in the 999 years to lead to the destruction of the world in 1999AD. Anyway, the Black Omen was kinda long but not hard so I guess that’s okay. The stupid Nu sent me back to the beginning because I pressed the button too fast zzzz, had to walk it again sigh. The Queen is ugly loll. Anyway, Lavos with different attack modes (copying from various monsters and bosses we’ve fought throughout the game) was pretty interesting! I forgot a lot of them but it’s pretty cool to see him utilising the info he gathered from the world to try and kill us. Lavos’ core was not what I thought I needed to kill in the last battle hahaha, I kept thinking it was the middle one I needed to kill but it was actually the thing on the right lmao!

I thought it was really cool of Lucca to bring everyone from the past and the future in one place at Guardia Castle and thank Crono for saving their respective worlds and the whole of time, it felt so wholesome and sweet. I don’t know why I never made the connection, but when Lucca went back and saved her mother Lara from the “accident” that caused her to be bound to her chair, it ended up changing the present, so now she’s running about and seems like a happier person now. It was honestly kind of saddening to see Crono part with everyone. I thought it was so adorable that Ayla and Kino (mostly Ayla trying to get it through his thick head lol) are planning on having lots of kids together to be the proper ancestors of Marle etc haha. It was nice to see Marle the princess kiss Frog hahaha, that was cute! Alike Robo, I’m hopeful that in the future, Robo will still be around, just because 1999AD isn’t destroyed by Lavos anymore doesn’t mean he definitely won’t exist! Lucca crying over it was really cute though. I guess the only one whose journey hasn’t ended would be Magus, since he’s going on a journey to find Schala. I hope he’s successful.

Okay lmao at the ending where Crono’s cat jumps into the gate because Crono never fed him LOL, omg when his mum followed it hahahah. I see why when you talk to the cat at Crono’s house, it says you fed 0 food lolll! I wonder if it’s actually possible to feed it? At least that means Lucca, Marle and Crono will go on another adventure to find his mother haha! Okay, omg, I didn’t expect Crono and Marle to get married, I honestly shipped Crono and Lucca!! I love Lucca much more!! I’m so sad right now. I guess at least Robo got together with Atropos, so cute to see them watch the sky together. Nice to see Frog/Glenn continuing to be a cool knight, and omggg, he looks good as a human! I’m happy that Lucca seems great with her robot friend, but who was that baby she picked up? Omgggg it’s apparently Kid from Chrono Cross who is Schala’s daughter-clone!! Yep, time to play Chrono Cross again, but now with the knowledge of Chrono Trigger so let’s see if it feels any better haha. I know they’re not thaaat connected but they still are since it’s the same world so let’s see!~

Overall, I really enjoyed Chrono Trigger. I think the main reason I liked it was because it was just really fun and enjoyable! Like, it has a lot of the elements that make it a classic JRPG with your party saving the world and going on a cool adventure whilst bonding with the people you find along the way kinda thing, and it does it in a really fun way. Considering the story involves time travel, I honestly thought it would be complicated and a bit crazy, but it was actually really simple and definitely more of an entertaining experience above all else. There were heartwarming moments with the party, serious moments with Magus’ story and fun moments with time travelling, and I think as a whole it really made everything come together in a satisfying way where it delved into a bit of everything. I have my gripes here and there about stuff like silent protagonists, and how I would have liked it if it was a bit longer so it could have more character interactions since the world building was already so great, but I think as a whole, Chrono Trigger was pretty awesome especially considering how old it is! XD

#chrono trigger

4 notes · View notes

xxforsaken-angelxx · 4 years

Text

=> A Friendly Secret Visit.

chimericarchitect Howdy! I wanted to ask about the rods and how that was coming along.

xxforsaken-angelxx aww shit yeah i got them i just slipped on messagin you

chimericarchitect Neat! So, let me know whenever it is clear for me to come and get them and I'll do that.

xxforsaken-angelxx gotcha > You'll send her a time for later today, after your shift is over.

chimericarchitect > Presumably he will send updated coordinates since it's a ship in space and you will, at the time allotted, go there to pick up the rods. It'll be great.

xxforsaken-angelxx > He will, and she'll be teleported straight to his block.

> Or at least part of his block. It visibly looks like a study, with floor to ceiling shelves on the two walls without doors that are loaded with jars of herbs, crystals, bones, and basically any other magical trinket that gets used in his kind of trade. That and what's probably a fairly narrow curation of books, most of them looking old or otherwise well loved.

> You're at your desk nestled in there, in front of an oddly old looking computer. You're dressed in full goffik attire, with the boots and the long coat and the whole nine yards.

chimericarchitect > Saness might like what she knows of Grinmaww, she might think he seems a pretty decent troll, but that doesn't change the fact that he is an unknown. She is dressed accordingly, in what she used to consider 'cool adventurer attire,' something good to tussle in or go for an impromptu roam. It consists of a sturdy white vest over long dark sleeves, equally white boots over flexible black pants, an overly vibrant neckerchief, and a wallet chain on her hip that definitely doesn't connect to a wallet. With her sunglasses up in her stark-white dandelion puff of curling hair, useless but available, Saness looks like a starry-eyed kid dressed up as a cosplay biker.

> She arrives in a blossoming yellow-green light, accompanied by the sound of something stretching sharp, the hollow bell-tone echo of a rubber band snapping, an unnaturally compressed static twang. It's only a fall of a few inches to the floor of the ship, boots tmp-ing with the weight of her existence as the glow recedes as rapidly and efficiently as it had appeared. With her face fully exposed, it can be noted on a glance that her hair grows in this shade. That, or she spends way too much time dying her eyebrows and lashes.

> Immediately Saness looks to Grinmaww, the full attention of 5' 10" of dimension-hopping globetrotter drawn right to him by some force unknown. There is a sort of reckless energy to the way she carries herself, careless of her color, focused intently and intensely on the only other troll in the room. It lingers for a heavy second, gears turning behind her eyes, before scattering nearly as immediately under the force of her own curiosity and whimsy, the dopey little 'o' of her mouth and the perplexed pinch of her brow turning to a wowed smile while the slightly flighty hands-out posture of her arms falls to her sides as she straightens. Her eyes gleam when they catch light, a reflective plate of lime snapping here and there over all of the fascinating and colorful doodads filling the walls of this space.

> "My dude, you are absolutely killing this aesthetic."

> She defaults to common Alternian, for all purposes friendly and easygoing in tone, if a little bright with excitement.

xxforsaken-angelxx > That cracks him up immediately, after those few seconds of regarding each other in silence. His face is...oddly stretchy, the skin pulls a little farther than most people when he smiles.

> Which is why he doesn't, when he rises out of his office chair to full 6'5" stature. It's not exactly an Ampora Resting Bitch Face, his eyes stay friendly, but there's all the signs of someone who keeps their expressions trained.

"Well shit, mission fuckin' accomplished then. I'm diggin' your whole look too, though. Y'look cute."

> And how dare she, frankly? Meeting someone from a whole other universe was supposed to be a big deal, both from a mental and security standpoint, but here she was waltzing up with the aura of a box of novelty rubber ducks. It's hard to be all serious at that, bah.

chimericarchitect > Cute, huh? Saness grins a little wider, something easy and lopsided. She's being very loose with her expressions, leaning heavily into what charisma she possesses over her own stranger-danger default; there has not been one single Eridan in the history of fish-or-otherwise bastards that she has ever gotten along with, but in counter she has a great and hopeful fondness for Makaras and clowns in general. All she has to do is be her charming self and *surely* things will work out. Surely. So far so good, right?

"Well shit, mission fuckin' accomplished!" she intones in quick mimicry, momentarily affecting his cant and general tone of bearing. That too falls away, dripping from one instant to the next with the pulse of a rabbit. A flourish places her splayed fingertips over her chest, the goofish mockery of a stuffy tilt to her chin. "Saness Casper Psuede, The Mischief, at your service and pleased to finally meet you, Grinmaww!"

> She is, perhaps, a bit much at full-tilt, hyped to be here and make a solid first impression. Ideally, Grinmaww will like her as much as she hopes to like him. That's the plan. The scheme. The big cannoli. *Maybe* this critically informal introduction will entice him into relaxing as well. A girl can dream.

xxforsaken-angelxx > Hearing his drawl coming out of her makes him laugh again, and he instinctively tries to go for a handshake. Just a casual one. Business casual.

"Man, you're somethin', arentcha? And somethin' that should use Mischief more often, that's a good one."

> Truth be told, he was already fond of her. Being in the position he was, he tended to like people who had a different view of the world, and Saness kept fitting that to a T. Even discounting her inherent otherworldly-ness, she was people smart in a way he couldn't manage, and just...had a certain way of things. Maybe a way that clashed with his way sometimes. But it was an interesting way, and an interesting clash.

> Sure being the leader of a big ass ship also put him in that same zone of inner stranger wariness, but y'know. So far so good!

"Nice to finally meet you too."

chimericarchitect > The Dreaded Handshake, As The Prophecy Foretold. With how sharp she keeps her claws these nights the best she can do to cover up is to wear fingerless gloves, but that is inconducive to the possibility of reacting to danger, and she anticipated that the ever-present threat of engaging in polite society might rear itself anyway. Thus, a counter arrangement has been prepared in advance: completely naturally, despite her lack of hand cover, as if this was the response expected of her, Saness reaches past Grinmaww's outstretched palm and clasps his covered forearm. A bracing, friendly gesture!

> It's loose enough an action that she doesn't have time to react to new information, or to accommodate the unexpected. From this close, she can feel her hair standing on end, a fresh tingle across the nape of her neck. This isn't Chill Boss Aura, the weight of his presence more intense with proximity, but rather something else entirely. Something otherworldly. The trouble with keeping her features emotionally available and reactive is that, they are, in fact, emotionally available and reactive. Her eye scrunches slightly and her smile ticks one degree toward uncomfortable on the matching side.

> Braced like this, she gives his arm the single handshake pump of proper business, albeit a fraction of a second delayed.

> Quick, say something.

"Ah, yeah, you think so? I thought it was kinda, heh, on the nose. If somebody were to roll up and introduce themself with the title of 'Mischief' you'd have certain expectations, I'd think."

xxforsaken-angelxx > Eridan isn't oblivious enough to miss her sudden awkwardness, but it's also not like he knows his own aura, or any other reason Saness might avoid handshakes. In his mind he just went too formal, like a dumbass. He goes a touch sheepish when she goes a touch awkward, and flicks his hair and plays it cool when she lets go.

> The third eye he draws in his paint wasn't peeking through his bangs until now.

"I mean, sure. But that kind of expectation would probably get you some friends around somewhere like here. Mischief and clowns go together, right?"

> Hopefully, at least?

chimericarchitect > Once released she gives him a conspiratorial smile, waggles a finger, and says, "Those mischievous clowns," in that fake-cursing sort of tone, meant to confirm his assertion.

> Now that she's aware of an otherworldly presence, she is Aware of it. It's kind of just all over the place, isn't it? And her new friend appears to be the epicenter...

> From this point out, her attention is going to be partially split. Whatever it is, it doesn't *feel* directly threatening, but it's definitely unlike the clown deities she's met. It's... not quite familiar. Grinmaww's angels? But it doesn't feel like the angels she's known either, not... quite... Perhaps they aren't angels at all. That's the unsettling part. People and things that identify as other things can have a lot of reasons for doing so. Half the angels she's met weren't so nice anyhow...

> Most of the time she keeps her attention politely fixed on Grinmaww, but it slips through him or past him here and there, occasionally flitting elsewhere in the room. Saness cannot help but be wary in the back of her mind.

> Uncultured, she points right at his face.

"In every timeline I've visited or heard of, face paint holds a lot of personal significance to the clowns who wear it." Her arm drops to her side and she rocks on her toes in a gentle and harmless fidget. "Is it too personal to tell me about? I'm curious."

xxforsaken-angelxx > There's those in the church that don't believe that *any* of the entities are who they say they are. Some believe they're all more of a subconscious figment than anything else- not nonexistant, per se, but a form to let the troll mind comprehend something uncomprehendable. Eridan does believe in his angels, but he's not... unfamiliar, with the idea that they might not be so straightforward.

> He doesn't know that's what's on her mind, but *they* do. They can sense her attention. They know she can feel them. And they...want to play nice, actually. Yes they're everywhere, yes they have him in their grasp, but does that have to feel so bad? They can at least try to be a bit more friend shaped.

> Meanwhile, their host gets thrown by that question. Not in a defensive way, just in a purely off-guard one.

"Uh, no, it's not, it's-" He gestures, aimlessly. "It's not actually *that* big of a thing? For us? Like it's real fuckin' important, don't get me wrong, but it's not like- it's not *sacred.* It's fashion."

> He shoved his hands in his pocket, and gave his jacket a bit of a flounce.

"I uh...picked mine when I was pretty young. The whole painted on smile and the tears and the secret eye. It's all kinda obvious. But I still like the vibe. Still me and such."

chimericarchitect > Saness can... kind of feel them, the attention of Grinmaww's angels in response to her awareness. She can detect the things they broadcast most blatantly, the more gentle way they coil, the intentional friendliness. Perhaps an act like that would put a more paranoid troll on higher alert, but where most people have a healthy level of mistrust for the unknown, developed or instinctual, Saness has stubbornly hoarded olive branches to clumsily brandish at anything that exists. If they want to be friendly, then by the stars, Saness is going to give them her reckless trust and put her faith where her mouth is.

> Understanding that the angels are at least *similarly* aware of her the way she is aware of them, Saness begins working through the process of lowering her mental hackles, just as intentionally relaxing as they intentionally displayed peace. She loves being cool and playing nice, well and truly.

> It helps that Grinmaww is so cute. Look at him, fumbling and fluffing his feather. Normally she would giggle at him, laughter comes so easily to her, but with her focus split, all she does is smile fondly. It feels safe enough to relax around him, and they all vibe together as a unit, so... Yeah. Everything is cool and she is pleased to make more than one acquaintance. Yep. That's what she's rolling with.

"So, dedication to fashion is really important, but being a clown is not an organized religion beyond being purple and... being goth..." The last part is said almost like a question. "Would you be in trouble if you didn't wear paint, if it isn't sacred? What about like, partial coverage? In public and stuff. Oh, and, um, the whole... distinction thing. Goth is more elegant? Than punk? Or like, grunge, or emo. Are you supposed to dedicate yourself to YOUR aesthetic or is there a dress code? Is 'goth' an important word? Does equating it to other aesthetics come across as rude?"

> Special Move: One Thousand Needling Questions no Jutso.

xxforsaken-angelxx "You don't get in *trouble* for not wearing the paint, no. Like, most people around here wouldn't want to be out an' about without it or nothin', but just in the way anybody else who wears a lotta makeup wouldn't. Partial coverage's fine, too. I know this one chick who does a pattern with half her face, 's'cool as hell. And there is absolutely not a dress code beyond legal modesty and safety regulations, I almost can't believe you gotta ask that."

> He says it with fondness, as he leans up against his desk. He could talk about this stuff forever, he just had to settle into the rhythm of it. His gods seemed to enjoy it too, maybe, almost curling up beside him once he got on a roll.

"Self expression is important to us. It's an inherent part of our magic. We're all brought together around a school of thought with magic that's about experimentation and what you feel, so, like. If you're callin' up the damned with scryin' bones, why the fuck *shouldn't* you wear a full black velvet cloak, y'know? Why not wear it out to get a sandwich every night, if that's what makes you happy?"

"So comparin' us to punk or whatever else is rude just 'cause it's not us. We have an ideology, and punk has a totally different ideology, an' none of us really want to be lumped together when it doesn't stand for the same thing."

chimericarchitect "Then... what is the goth clown ideology? Under that umbrella of self-expression and exploration... are there pretty pastel clowns, peppy and chipper, or clowns that... essentially aren't goth? That sounds really kind of cool though, being encouraged to pursue happiness in the empire. Are there purplebloods that aren't clowns, or is it kind of mandatory?"

> Saness is slowing down a touch, pretty sincerely fascinated by this topic. Culture in general is wildly engrossing, but she has a particular passion for the heavy familial nature of mirthful society.

> She follows his lead, to a degree, crossing her arms and resting her weight unbalanced on one leg, hip cocked out just slightly to accommodate. Very laid-back. One foot taps, keeping time with the pace of her thoughts.

"And, I mean, I *assume* it's just purplebloods and not other colors that join the faith in your society, but it doesn't hurt to ask. Doctrines and ideologies tend to conceptually elude me, but I do so love to hear about them."

xxforsaken-angelxx "Just purplebloods, but it's not mandatory, no. Most of us end up here anyways, but there's plenty that don't. And..."

> There's a pause as he chews on his words a bit. He's had to explain something to this effect several times before, and every time it's a little different. A little closer to what someone who's Grand Highblood might say.

"We think that belief is the most important part of magic. The rituals you do and the entities you work with are just...methods. What makes it *work* is what you feel. And if you *know* that, then you can take your belief and apply it on purpose to somethin' workin' to your advantage. So we just... believe in doin' what personally works for you. Celebratin' what personally works for you. There's no reason you can't be cheery and also goth, or be some pastel fuck and also goth. We're only gonna question you if *you* don't think you're doin' it right. You have to believe you are. Genuinely."

chimericarchitect > Saness inclines her head, an inquisitive pinch to her brow. It's not fully intentional, but she keeps mentally checking in on the spectral presence surrounding Grinmaww, akin to curious little 'are you still there' pokes while he talks.

"That's what goth is? Celebrating the self?"

> Her expression smooths away and she straightens with a soft laugh.

"I mean, heh, wow." She waves a hand, gesturing over his whole him.

xxforsaken-angelxx "I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, playfully shaking his head.

> The angels are also very there. They're Always there. Or at least, some of them are. Sometimes there's more, sometimes there's less, but there's always *something*.

> They tend to poke back, too. It's fun having friends.

chimericarchitect > She shakes her head, still smiling.

"Alright, so, next question. I think I saw the answer before on tumblr maybe, but I don't remember it at the moment. Can you always sense your angels?"

> Yeah she came here with a purpose, but Saness has never been very business-oriented. She hasn't been here long enough for the recycled air to bother her, she's barely been here long enough to appreciate the fact that she's in space. Vacuums and stable pressurized ships aren't as easy to replicate, she's kind of lucky not to be experiencing some kind of reaction to the environment. The thought is starting to creep into her head, the idea that there could be so much more to see.

> Somewhere in the bowels of this contraption, Hydromatic dangles in some kind of torture stasis.

xxforsaken-angelxx > Somewhere, Hydromatic is at their station, filing through dozens of simultaneous requests and trying to scrape up the spare seconds to fantasize about their matesprit. Piers is somewhere as well, possibly finishing his shift.

> And the ship is just generally bustling with life. It was a massive place, filled with a town's worth of purplebloods. Each one had their own magic, their own loud style, their own gods...

"Pretty much always, yeah. Sometimes I get distracted, but they're always there."

chimericarchitect "Does it still get lonely sometimes, even if you're never alone? How old were you when you like, met them? And, um..."

> Saness glances toward the door and lets her continuation hang in the air for a moment, not quite stilling so much as slowing her idle animation. There's a lot to consider, all the mystery and intrigue just beyond, but she knows full well she'd never be allowed to pass through. Not in a thousand sweeps. What would she even do? Act like a lost tourist and get Grinmaww into trouble?

> She slides her focus back into the room, back onto her host and off of stray thoughts of the fantastical. Her hands go into her pockets and she gestures toward him with a shrug of her shoulder.

"Are the subjects of everyone else's devotion so present as yours? Can you sense or otherwise detect them yourself?"

xxforsaken-angelxx "I'm not the lonely type. But I met 'em when I was like...five-ish? Which is young, for us. I had more resources than most wrigs would've, an' I just...had a strong pull, I guess."

> A strong pull and a florid imagination. His eyes follow hers before he can get too wrapped up in thinking about his old hive life, though. If it were anybody else, he'd be glad to show her around the ship. There were constant visitors on the Hydromatic, so one more wouldn't be terribly out of place.

> As long as they were like, actual Imperial citizens with travel paperwork. And not of a blood color that didn't exist here. So unfortunately that wasn't happening, even if they both wished it would.

"...I don't think everybody's are. Kinda depends. But magic just has a vibe, I can feel that usually."

chimericarchitect > ...Huh. What if he's picking up magic vibes off of her? Wicked undid those... locks or whatever, and she did attend a single quarter of lessons at the magic college, even if she was pretty much fully incompetent with her abilities. She would think, 'nah, they're totally different things probably,' but here she is and she can sense his angels, so... maybe not? But maybe it's like, a warlock thing, rather than strictly a magic thing. She doesn't have a magic sugardaddy hovering around her twenty-four seven for him to detect. Or even like. Sugardaddy La Croix. Residual sugardaddy. Hint of having been near a sugardaddy that might have side-eyed her once.

"Well, the angels seem really pleasant and friendly, and if that says anything about you then, heh." Even with all of her training Saness's face is soft, tender cheeks squishing firm when she smiles. It doesn't stretch like Grinmaww's or Ringleader's. "How old do clowns normally take on a patron?"

xxforsaken-angelxx > The magic here *was* different from magic elsewhere, but mostly in how certain the clowns were of its mechanics. Magic was considered an action, a movement of energy. It wasn't something just sitting around in people willy nilly, in their minds. Without something actively magical lying around, there was nothing he was attuned to sense.

> His face softened a little at her compliment, and a small "Aww" slipped out before he could think it through.

"It uh, depends though. Six is when most people really start socializin' online, and that's a big factor for decidin' to participate in the faith. So seven-ish is the most common for gettin' serious with contactin' things, as far as I know."

chimericarchitect > A little 'o,' either of interest or surprise, anoints her.

"Did you meet them before you met any other clowns or joined the faith then?"

xxforsaken-angelxx > His eyebrows raise a little.

"Before I met any other clowns, yeah. But I was pretty set on being involved since I could read what I had about it."

chimericarchitect "Did I ask something strange? Sorry."

> Saness tries to play it cool, another pretty flash of a somewhat sheepish smile, but she is a weenie and the lift of Grinmaww's eyebrows causes her to fret a secret amount.

xxforsaken-angelxx > He tries to look reassuring. Or as reassuring as a much taller goth clown can.

"Nah. Just haven't had anybody ask that. Nobody really asks an heir how they started, y'know?"

chimericarchitect > It works, she's as easily reassured as she is unsettled. Intent is always WAY more important than appearances to little ol' Saness. She tilts her head, birdlike. Why *wouldn't* anyone ask?

"Well... How *did* you start?"

xxforsaken-angelxx > Eridan stews on that for a second, digging through his memories of his old swamp hive for the answer he was looking for. Then, when he found it, he very seriously said:

"Clown grubby books."

chimericarchitect > Her mouth opens, and then it closes. She considers this. Raises a finger. Opens her mouth again with the sound of an H turning to a W, then closes it again. A hum. The finger lowers.

xxforsaken-angelxx > He watches her flounder, and provides nothing. There's a smile in his eyes. Specifically a :o)

chimericarchitect > It ends with her giggling, one arm crossing her front to rub at the other. Her general demeanor has an air of vulnerability at the shift, gentle and earnest in both the way she speaks and the way she looks at him, smiling soft as a peach. Saness's eyes still gleam to an unnatural degree, the ever-present predator, but she's about as scary as a snail covered in dew drops.

"Sorry, that sounds really cute Grinmaww... Were they pop-up books? I hope you had a pop-up book, I have a little collection of those, I think they're very charming..."

xxforsaken-angelxx > He ends up laughing back at her, crossing his arms and actually smiling a little. She's so cute? She's so cute. Why does everything happen so much.

"Of course they were pop-up books. Like just one of 'em but what kinda church would we be if the grubby book wasn't a pop-up one. That'd be bullshit."

chimericarchitect > Her smile widens eagerly, the rubbing arm stopping in more the fashion of a half-formed self-hug.

"I wish I could read them. Obviously it inspired little you? You're here and all, and you seem happy to."

xxforsaken-angelxx "I sure am. Love this place, always have."

> He glances at one of his bookshelves in particular, scanning for a particular spot and then stammering.

"I uh- I still have the pop-up one. Like just a newer copy, lying around. You could, uh...I'd let you borrow it, for as long as you have the tubes, if you want. It's not like it has anything too secret."

chimericarchitect > Saness covers her mouth when she starts laughing this time, both hands. It lasts a good moment, eyes scrunched up with a fond sort of mirth once more. She's been charmed, how dare he. Like really, how dare he. This isn't the troll she made this trip to make friends with!

> And yet, she can't say she minds the direction this is going. Not one bit. What a good place this must be with leadership like this.

> She lowers her hands to rib-height, curled into loose and amicable fists.

"Really?" She pauses to nibble her lower lip, literally biting back another short string of giggles. "If you don't mind, I'd very much like that. Really."

xxforsaken-angelxx > Phththhghbhbhb, goes the clown. There's indignant hand waving and everything. He's trying to be NICE and she has the AUDACITY to like. Handle it in a playful friendly way. Rude.

"I don't mind at all, just lemme fuckin-"

> He strides over to the bookshelf in question, pulling out the thick little book from the spot it's been tucked away in, among serious magical tomes.

> The cover has a generic looking purpleblood wriggler, notably un-goth. They're curled up against a sheeplike lusus in a cool-toned forest scene, watching a glittery butterfly float overhead. A gold whimsical font proclaims that "Magic is Everywhere!"

> He shows her this for a second, then places it next to the other things she came here for.

chimericarchitect > Look at this guy. What a guy! A guy who keeps a copy of his wrigglerhood pop-up book in his block! A guy that would lend it to a near-stranger with a smile! A guy that bends and breaks the rules to do whatever is best or most interesting! A guy that doesn't get annoyed when he makes other people laugh! A guy with a really impressive propeller hand dance!

"What, you aren't going to flip through it with me? Don't you want to take a trip down memory lane with your new friend~?"

> Saness flounces along in Grinmaww's wake, leaning around him to rappa-tap a dance of her claws on the cover before he can fully rid himself of the book. She no longer minds the increased density of his aura by proximity, having decided that yes, they are friends now. It's a mostly-sincere question carried on a teasing tone that leaves him room to turn her down without anything getting awkward; he can brush her off as playing or he can take her seriously and crack open the book, and neither answer would be wrong.

xxforsaken-angelxx > Her hands get lightly swatted away. Bap, bap bap. It's kind of fortunate that he has a boyfriend now and everything, otherwise he'd still be terribly unused to people just...approaching him.

"Look, if I'm gonna give this thing to my 'new friend~'," he says, mimicking her badly, "Then I want you to enjoy this the proper way, which is all curled up at hive or whatever. It's the cozy kind of wriggler book. Don't at me."

chimericarchitect > Saness accepts her defeat with wiggly fingers, politely stepping back out of the range of his personal space. She is a self-satisfied creature.

"Cozy wriggler book, you've got it."

> She stuffs her mitts back into her pockets (all better, no touchy) and resumes rocking from heel to toe, watching Grinmaww with interest.

"I have so many more questions for you, but like, I realize this wasn't supposed to be a social visit and you are a very busy troll." Gotta check in. Gotta give him an out.

xxforsaken-angelxx > He settles back into leaning up against his desk, all casual like. But clearly with his feathers playfully ruffled. If it weren't for the paint there'd probably be a bit of a blush...which Saness might can guess anyways, with how much time she spends with clowns.

"Nah, I don't mind. Once I'm off work it's not like there's anything I'm supposed to be doin'."

> That and he's really enjoying her company. But he can't just like, say those words out loud, right?

chimericarchitect > That's enough of an invitation for her! Beaming, Saness makes an invisible 'desk' out of her psi and leans back against it, copying him like the silliest roly-poly.

"Great! You're even cooler than I'd hoped, I like talking to you."

> Apparently she can just say whatever the fuck she wants, unabashed while in her element. A single clap!

"Tell me about your lusus!"

xxforsaken-angelxx > There's clear amusement in her parroting, but also...a lack of questioning how the fuck she's doing that. Miming is a pretty common skill around here, after all.

"A goat? But like, a fish goat. An angler fish goat. Real big fucker that'd go around the swamp eating basically anything."

> There was a bit of disdain in his voice. It's fairly obvious that he didn't have a *great* opinion of his goat figure.

"Think I gotta pass that one back at you, though. What was your lusus like?"

chimericarchitect "Uh, well..."

> She would be more phased by having bonked so clumsily into the Makara-standard experience of bad wriggler-lusus relations, but Grinmaww just asked a bit of a tricky question. It's obvious that Saness has to really consider how to answer this; for a moment she even looks off to the side, brow pinched.

"I don't really remember my lusus. I had a guardian, and she was a troll."

> The "sort of" that follows is said lower. How does one smoothly segway into 'I have amnesia and also the troll that looked after me when I came-to was actually some kind of life-force golem'? The answer is, you don't. You just don't.

xxforsaken-angelxx > Obviously there's curiosity that arises from that 'sort of.' Like, sort of a troll or sort of a guardian? It's an easy follow-up, and one he doesn't take. Instead, he gives her a somewhat sympathetic look.

"You don't gotta talk about it if you don't want to."

> It's said both sincerely and flatly. He's not effected by whatever emotions she has around the subject, but is okay with them. No judgement, but lots of instinctual professionalism.

chimericarchitect "R-right..."

> The flat tone doesn't feel like it fits with the sympathetic look. Saness does not thrive in professional or formal environments, and even the gentle stiffness is enough for her to trip and flounder over. What is she *supposed* to say? Is this one of those secret codeword things people do when they like someone and want to be polite, but don't actually want to hear what they have to say?

> And besides... *Does* she want to talk about it? It's reflex to say 'no she doesn't,' and that coupled with the above is enough to sway her decision.

"I don't believe I ever got around to asking. Are limebloods extinct in this timeline?"

xxforsaken-angelxx > He *would* be interested, but he's not... supposed to be. Being a boss has it's tolls, one of them happening to be that he has a firm habit of not prying too hard. Any piece of extra information is something that can trip up the works of Imperial bureaucracy.

> So she takes her out and he lets it be, moving on to answering her next question as if nothing happened.

"Yeah, they are. Though the real dock against you is the fact that you don't have paperwork for existin' here. Like, you could go all hemo-anon or whatever an not stand out, but not havin' a travel record would get you in trouble real quick."

chimericarchitect > She's quick to focus on this new topic, grasping at it a bit like a life raft. It was one little hiccup, everything is fiiiiine.

"Really? Travel record? ...I implanted an identity to assume on an Earth once so that I could open a bank account and a few other things, but like, I imagine something like that might be a bit more difficult in this timeline. Earth is just... Not very savvy. Then again, on a standard Alternia, there are LOTS of available identities to assume, trolls die super constantly on the ground..."

> Grim thoughts are grim, and Saness makes a face. This line of thought isn't pleasant, and she isn't neutral about it, no matter how plainly she likes to talk about it.

"Who even checks for those? Everyone I pass in the hall? Do you have to confirm your I.D. at every doorway?"

xxforsaken-angelxx > Eridan points up towards the ceiling and gestures around.

"Cameras. There aren't any in here, but they're pretty much everywhere else. Anyone out of place would get spotted immediately, an' then you'd get flagged down for some questions."

> There's an attempt to not make the word "questions" in that sound ominous. An attempt. But the eyes of the Hydromatic were in fact everywhere.

chimericarchitect "Oh, so the 'travel records' are digital, and Hydromatic can identify people and locate aforementioned records on the spot, and if something doesn't line up, then yadda yadda? Or do you mean, Hydromatic would send security after me or whoever else walked mysteriously out of a closet because they're just *that aware* of every single familiar face and *that aware* of who has gone where? Because, I've got-"

> Saness grabs for her wallet chain, pulling the end of it out of her back pocket. It's definitely still not attached to a wallet; it's attached to a retro sylladex!

"I've got..."

> Operating this thing is not efficient. She's still flipping through it... There's a reason technology moved on without this little pocket-lunk.

"I've got this amulet, it was a gift. A disguise amulet..."

> Fwip fwip fwip... She just wants to show him a neat trick, man... Why does this have to be so har-AHA!!

> With a declaration of triumph, she retrieves a very simple locket on a very simple chain, proudly holding it aloft and grinning mischief at Grinmaww.

xxforsaken-angelxx > He just...lets her. He's the one with an even more old-fashioned looking computer sitting behind him. But he has no idea what exactly a 'disguise amulet' implies. Like, it *feels* magic, but there's a lot of extents that thing could go to. Instead, he just answers her questions.

"It's like a facial recognition system, just with an actual pair of eyes as a step in the process. If you're authorized to be on board here, and also to be in whatever rooms you're goin' in, then everything's fine, mostly."

chimericarchitect > Saness nods along, but she only half-cares about the answer to her question. It's not like she's going to be skulking about on the ship.

"Okay, so, check this out. Do you have any printed photos? Small ones, or ones you don't mind being folded? Magazine cutouts count, it'd just be cooler if it's someone that you recognize from this timeline rather than whoever I have in my pocket."

xxforsaken-angelxx "Uh-"

> Now it's his turn to awkwardly fumble around for something. He turns to start going through his desk drawer, pushing around this and that. There was a lot in the damn things. A few pipes, art supplies, spare papers, weed...

> Eventually he found a photo tucked away amongst it all, and handed it over.

> It's a picture that was only able to print halfway for some reason or another, leaving only one person in the image. Said person is Nymede, the Hydromatic's lead IT specialist. She was in an open shoulder top and hot pants and fishnets, with big fuzzy legwarmers. Her face was half obscured by a gas mask, and she had bright purple and fuchsia hair extensions.

> She was...probably in the helmsblock, or near it, there was biowire visible behind her, but there was no sign of Hydromatic themselves.

chimericarchitect > Is it void nonsense? A lack of ink? Some sort of printer malfunction? A certain helm being fussy about their picture being taken and purposely botching the job? The world may never know, and further, the world is unconcerned. Saness accepts the photo and gleefully pops open the locket. There was already a photo inside - one of Saness that has been color-edited to have black hair and ordinary teal eyes - that she hastily replaces with the photo of this very Fashion(tm) clown person. She gives it a playful jostle once it's closed away.

"Now, hang on, this is the cool part-"

> The moment she slips the locket over her head, Saness is no longer standing in the room. Instead, in every physically perceivable way, Nymede has replaced her. Eeach visible detail is accurate to the picture, and Saness-as-Nymede gives a little twirl.

"Tadaaa...!"

> It doesn't alter her voice, unfortunately, and Saness still sounds like herself. She moves like herself too, despite whatever change in height there may be, fluffy legwarmers flouncing realistically to match.

xxforsaken-angelxx "Wow what the fuck."

> That was. Perhaps less enthused sounding than he intended, and he cracks up the second after that leaves his mouth.

"Man, what the *fuck*-"

> It is perhaps somewhat alarming to see a perfect clone of your friend, even if you think it's fucking hilarious. Boy is it realistic, though. He saw Nymede just tonight, and he wouldn't have thought twice if she'd been able to mimic her voice. Scary, but incredibly impressive!

chimericarchitect "Isn't it neat? It's basically a hologram. The projection is magic and it has the most basic of shells to give an amount of resistance when touched, but if you pressed against it you would sink through until you touched me. When used to mimic smaller things, the parts that hang out turn completely invisible, but can still knock into things if you aren't careful."

> While she talks Saness is wafting Nymede's arm back and forth, looking it over herself. She has back some of the same energy she came in with, the excitable quickness to the way she carries her borrowed form bleeding into how quickly she talks.

> She pauses only a moment, snapping her attention from Nymede's arm to Grinmaww's face. There's more she wants to say and show him, but she's not the type to sprint on ahead without someone.

xxforsaken-angelxx > He's following along, mostly, the way someone tends to when they're fascinated by something they don't *really* understand. Holograms were a thing in common use here, hard light was something he understood in theory, using magic to create tech-like results was...imaginable, at least?

> Which amounted as far as it being conceivable, and him having no idea how the fuck something like that would actually be made. Miracles, man.

"Neat is a real fuckin' understatement for that."

chimericarchitect > She chuckles and goes to remove the locket, zooping back to her regular appearance with a sideways flicker as soon as the chain is off her neck.

"You can even disguise things as people, or people as things, or things as other things..."

> Saness looks around the room for an easy target that doesn't look like something personal or sensitive, something she could feasibly loop the chain around.

"...and you can keep the chain on the object you want to disguise while keeping the locket somewhere else, it will continue to function so long as neither are destroyed..."

xxforsaken-angelxx > There are, frankly, a lot of Things in this room, so there's a lot of potential targets. There's several large quartz samples of different colors that could easily have the locket wrapped around, or some of his jars of common herbs like rosemary and thyme. Or for something even safer looking, she could nab a big black candle.

> That last part is what really surprised him, though. The parts could work separately? The locket didn't have to be on the chain? It wasn't just the locket that did the thing? How the FUCK did this thing WORK?

chimericarchitect > Badda-boom, she slips the locket off of the chain and wraps the pretty metal in a loose cascade over an unsuspecting candle. Nymede appears where it was, but nearly completely physically static. If the candle was lit, she'll be wobbling her head around in a way that could be considered eerie, mimicking the flames with the limitations of hair and a neck.

> What's more, a candle is much smaller than a person, and... the projection seems to shiver and warp a lot like it is strained, glitching in a way that Nymede *definitely should not be moving* in. Saness seems to find these wild distortions and unnatural behaviors to be entirely hilarious, pointing up at her and giving the whole thing a very good laugh.

xxforsaken-angelxx > It was not lit, just sitting around waiting for use. But that only mitigated the weirdness of this somewhat. Like, here was one of his best friends, in lifelike form, magically superimposed over a candle when she really shouldn't be. The whole thing wibbled around with the uncanniness of a wax figure and the function of spaghetti code.

> He also thought it was fucking hilarious, and laughed with her.

chimericarchitect > They'll likely spend a moment in shared laughter before Saness reaches into the illusion to fumble around and remove the chain. As before, Nymede stretches sideways and zlorps out of existence.

> Saness is still a bit breathy with laughter when she speaks.

"See, that's... I can be anyone, or anything, except maybe - pppbb - a candle, or a spoon, haha!"

xxforsaken-angelxx "That's fuckin' mindbogglin' to me. But impressive as long as you're not tryin' to dodge the guards with bobblehead candle clowns."

> He shakes his head, still giggling a bit. What a time to be alive and in charge of this joint.

"I've been doin' magic for a long ass time an' I've never gotten to see shit like that.

chimericarchitect > A bit more laughter and apparently show-and-tell is over, because Saness is putting her magic tool back into her sylladex - but she courteously remembers to take out the picture and offer it back toward Grinmaww on an open palm.

"The multiverse is a vast place and... I guess I've seen a lot of things!"

> Actually, it was talking to Pierce before that really put it into perspective. She's a veteran of mystery...

xxforsaken-angelxx > The picture gets placed back roughly where it was before, in one of his desk drawers. Possibly not even the same desk drawer? There are only so many things that can be in his goth mind at one time.

"Guess so," he says. "And guess I haven't seen much at all."

> Which was solely exciting to him, really. There was nothing he loved more than learning about the way everything flowed along in the universe. All a vast *multi*verse meant was he never had to stop.

chimericarchitect > Prrp! Saness proceeds to brush herself down for reasons unknown, satisfied with his response. There is a threshold here that needs to be respected, and unlike some of her friends, she's going to try and reel it in before crossing it.

"There are a lot of things I could show you, but I think maybe that's enough for a first meeting. I may not be the most vibrant or interesting tour guide, but I am a willing and attentive one!"

xxforsaken-angelxx > There's a small scoff at that second part, immediately.

"You're plenty vibrant. I do think we're good on the touring for now though, yeah."

> His hand creeps a little towards the collection of things he's supposed to be passing along to her. It's that business instinct again.

chimericarchitect > That was? A compliment? Yeah, no, it's cool. It's COOL. She sure hopes it's a compliment and not some sign that she overwhelmed him though, but if it is then man, it sure does sound like Grinmaww is completely clueless, he should meet her friends, *they're* the vibrant ones... And probably also very literally insane.

> She doesn't fuss when he moves them toward the end of their visit, quirky in her lopsided-smile sort of way. Saness rocks on her toes with her hands jammed deep into her pockets. She'll wait politely for him to gather himself up and bring this meeting to a close; it is his place, after all. Grinmaww is the floor master.

xxforsaken-angelxx > The look he gives her seems to support the compliment theory... But a moment later he's distracted. No objection, time to give her the things. The picture book first, and then the two psychic tube-y things. They're neatly labeled with label machine stickers, one from Pierce and one from Grinmaww.

> They actually came out pretty distinct looking. Both of the glow bits are lit a similar shade of purple, but Grinmaww's is...actually a good bit fainter. He's never really had any other chances to compare himself, though, so it doesn't even strike him as odd. Pierce is just good at shit like this, obviously.

chimericarchitect > Her hands are freed from her pockets! In order! To accept a darling pop-up book! And the actual tools she came for!

"Thanks so much for being such a good sport. I'll get the bracers and your cozy grubby book back to you as soon as I've finished!"

> They disappear from her palms, slorped up by her sylladex like so much loose spaghetti.

"It will take me a little longer than normal to complete these though, as I'm uh, a little bit preoccupied back at hive."

xxforsaken-angelxx > He shrugs, and...smiles just a little. Why must she be so goddamn pleasant all the time always.

"That's fine. Ain't like there's any rush anyways. Just get 'em back when you can."

> There's a moment of realization on his face when he remembers that she's just going to like...zap out of herself out of here. And not use a door. Which means that normal farewell dialogue cues weren't going to happen.

"It was uh, real nice seein' you an' all man."

chimericarchitect > Saness wouldn't know a normal dialogue cue if it bit her full on the bulge, farewell or otherwise.

"Somenight we'll have to figure out how to swap tours for realsies!"

> Rather than saying goodbye or returning the compliment like a civilized or well-adjusted troll, she gives her new friend a big smile and an even bigger dwarpy salute, turning on her heel for dramatic effect as the crackly light consumes her once more.

> Just like that, she is gone.

#ooc #logs.txt #(( featuring 20 questions with saness and silliness #(( with a small side of plot #(( no warnings needed

5 notes · View notes

technoskittles · 5 years

Note

“I don’t see what’s wrong with me taking a nap right here, right now.” for marichat or nalu

(I’m gonna do marichat bc I got another nalu prompt so nalu content is still on the way)

“I don’t see what’s wrong with me taking a nap right here, right now,” Chat drawled, stretching out his arms before nestling deeper into his spot, eyes fluttering shut.

Marinette huffed and prodded one of his cheeks with her finger. “Because you’re sprawled across my lap and I’m trying to work. This project is due tomorrow and I’ve already fallen so far behind! If I turn in any more late assignments the professor will fail me!”

Chat yawned, unconcerned. “C’mon Mari, you won’t fail and we both know that. You’re one of the best fashion students that university has ever had. If they failed you it’s their loss.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and shifted her legs in an attempt to jostle Chat enough to get him off her lap. It didn’t work. He was a stubborn one, for sure. “Without this degree I won’t get a good job anywhere though. And then all my hard work will be for nothing.” She leaned over Chat to pick up a pair of fabric scissors on the table, straining to get a straight cut with the weight bearing down on her. “I can’t give up on my dream when I’ve gotten this far.”

Chat lazily opened one of his eyes to see Marinette’s determined expression. Her tongue was poking out of the corner of her mouth adorably, brows furrowed in total concentration. It was cute. She was cute.

But he also noticed the bags under her eyes, a deep purple that looked downright painful. He frowned.

“When was the last time you’ve slept?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She finished off the cut with a flourish, dropping the scissors back onto her desk. She held up the fabric, eyeing it carefully to see how accurate her cut was.

Chat sighed and finally decided to raise off of Marinette’s lap but didn’t climb off. Instead he leaned into her personal space, eyes boring into her own sagging ones, dull with sleep deprivation and absolute exhaustion.

“Yes, it does matter,” he said firmly and raised a hand when she made a sound of objection. “There’s no way you’ll do your best work if you’re on the brink of passing out.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, gazing at her worriedly. “Are your classes really that difficult on you? Is that why you haven’t been sleeping?”

Marinette’s eyes widened in something akin to panic for a second before she averted her eyes. They darted around the room, finding something new to rest on every couple of seconds. “Some-something like that,” she mumbled.

Chat lifted a hand to twist one of her braids in-between his fingers, noting how the ends with frayed and lackluster. “You know, Ladybug’s been pretty exhausted too lately.”

He felt Marinette stiffen under his touch and she actually shrunk away. “R-really? I, uh…I hadn’t noticed.” She pressed her lips together and swatted his hand away, still not looking at him. “She always seems so energetic when she’s saving Paris.” She punctuated the statement with a nervous laugh, finally flicking her gaze over to him with a sheepishness to her smile.

Chat shrugged. “We’ve been busy. What with the surge in akuma attacks lately.” He smirked and leaned close again, reveling in the squeak that left Marinette’s mouth as she leaned back, eyes blown wide. “She’s been getting kind of sloppy if you ask me.”

Chat watched Marinette’s brows raise before furrowing as she puffed her cheeks. “Hey! That’s not true!” Then she suddenly reared back, more uneasy laughter spilling from her lips as she averted her gaze once more and rubbed the back of her neck. “I-I mean, I don’t think it’s true. I think she’s doing a great job.”

He smiled and leaned back, giving Marinette her space again and watching as she visibly deflated from letting out a breath. “She always does,” he says fondly. “But she needs her rest, just like someone else know.” He raised his eyebrows and hummed for emphasis.

She rolled her eyes again. “I already said I’m fine, Chat. But I won’t be if you don’t let me finish this assignment.” She reached behind him to make a grab for her supplies, but he caught her arm before she could. She turned on him quickly, leveling a glare into his neon gaze, only to be met with a gaze as steely as her own.

“Let me go, Chat.”

“Not until you promise to get some rest.”

Marinette groaned and attempted to free herself, but Chat tightened his grip and reeled her arm in-between their bodies. “You’re going to be okay, Marinette,” he promised softly.

“Look, I can handle it just fine! I knew what I was signing up for when I decided to go to school for a fashion degree. Late nights are part of the deal.” When he didn’t relent she growled in frustration and tried to yank her arm back again. “I said I’m fine!”

“You’re just as stubborn as her, too,” he chuckled good-naturedly.

Marinette blinked. “As who?”

“Ladybug.”

Marinette stuck her tongue out and gave her arm another yank. “Or maybe you’re just really pushy.”

“Why do you care so much about a dumb degree anyway? You have more than enough talent to get a job now at some high-brow agency and we both know it.”

“Most agencies won’t even look at candidates without a degree nowadays.”

Chat sat there in thought for a moment. Then, “What about the Agreste Company?”

Marinette froze at the name, blinking a few times before scrunching her nose and looking down. “After everything that happened with Gabriel? I’m not sure I’d want to work for a company that can barely stand on two legs.”

Chat frowned. It was true. His father’s fashion company was plummeting in popularity ever since it was unveiled that Hawkmoth - his very own father - was heading it. It left more than a sour taste in everyone’s mouths. His more than anyone else’s. Stocks and sales had been crashing ever since that horrific fact had been uncovered and the business itself was struggling to keep its head high in a sea of disapproval and public scrutiny.

But he’d been working hard to change that. Adrien never had much of a vested interest in fashion himself, only forced into it at his father’s request. At first, he wanted more than anyone to see it go under.

It wasn’t until some time after, looking through photographs of his mother, sickened with the knowledge of what his father had really been doing all this time as Hawkmoth, that Adrien realized he just couldn’t allow that to happen. Not for his father’s sake or his own, but for his mother’s. She had just as much a part in starting up the company alongside his father and she had put just as much hard work into building it as Gabriel had.

So Adrien had decided to step up, taking the wildly spinning wheel of an already half-sunken ship. He’d started public campaigns to improve the company’s image, denouncing his father and all of his actions. He changed company policies, hired new (albeit reluctant) designers to replace the ones who’d left after his father’s arrest. He partnered with non-profits, donated to a numerous amount of charities with his already limited funds that had been steadily decreasing since the company’s decline, did collaborations with other fashion companies…doing everything short of revealing himself as Chat Noir, Paris’ very own superhero who helped take Hawkmoth down to keep the company afloat.

“Well, from what I’ve heard, that Adrien Agreste has taken over since then, right? And he’s trying to build it back up.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And if I recall correctly, didn’t you use to go to school with him sometime ago?”

Marinette whipped her head up and immediately started sputtering, wildly flailing her arm around. “What? I mean, yeah but….that was years ago! We haven’t really talked much since then and…no! I couldn’t!”

Chat tilted his head to the side. “Why not?”

“I’m not going to take advantage of him like that! It’s…it’s cheating!”

Chat shrugged. “I don’t see how. I mean, you’ve designed for the company before, right? You won that competition? And you’re more than qualified enough.” The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that Marinette would be an excellent addition to his team. Maybe if she joined, they might be able to rise back up to join the game.

Of course, he wasn’t offering for entirely selfish reasons. He knew that Marinette would benefit just as much from the deal as he would. It was a win-win if you asked him.

“I can’t just ask for a job just because I know Adrien!” Marinette argued.

Chat laughed, a full-bellied one. “That’s exactly what networking is, Marinette. It’s what the industry thrives on. Knowing the right people.” When Marinette still seemed unconvinced, he pushed on. “Besides, like I said, you’re more than talented enough to get a job from him.”

Marinette remained silent, eyes dropping down to where his hand still gripped her arm. He brushed his thumb across her skin.

“If you want, I can always ask him for you?”

“That’s worse!”

“Then you ask him.” Finally he dropped her arm, letting it fall between them and taking one of her braids in his hand again. “And when you get the job-”

“If I get the job.”

“When you get the job,” he repeated and tugged gently on her hair, “you can stop killing yourself over meaningless assignments like this and skip straight to the part where you become a successful fashion designer. The best there ever was.” And then he offered her a smile, brilliant and blinding.

Marinette chewed on her bottom lip in thought. “I don’t know, Chat…”

“If you’re still unsure, maybe think about the fact that you are probably the exact kind of person Adrien Agreste needs on his side. If anything, he probably needs you more than you need him.” And that was also true. Marinette was good, almost too good, for someone like him and his dying company. If she still rejected the idea, he couldn’t exactly blame her for it.

He dropped her braid back onto her shoulder and softened his tone. “But ultimately, it’s still your decision to make, Mari. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Blue eyes drifted up to look into his with a soft smile painted on her lips. He returned it before reaching out to grab her shoulders. “Except sleep. I am absolutely making you sleep and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Then he hopped off her lap, picking her up with next to no effort and crushed her to his chest.

“Wha-Chat! Put me down!”

But he was already climbing the ladder to her loft bed, keeping her tucked underneath one arm. “No can do, Princess. I will make you get some rest if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Oh it will be the last thing you do!”

————

Two days later, Marinette was nervously gnawing on her lip as she juggled her phone between her hands. She swiveled back in forth in her desk chair and her sighs could practically be heard all the way down to the bakery two floors down.

Tikki floated in front of her, a reassuring smile pushing up her chubby cheeks. “You can do it, Marinette.”

Marinette returned the smile and finally stilled. “Thanks, Tikki.”

And then she pressed “call”.

Her heart hammered in her chest, bruising her rib cage from the sheer force of it as she listened to the line trill on and on. It was the most grueling three seconds of her life.

“Hi, you’ve reached Agreste Designs, how can I-”

“Adrien?”

There was a brief pause before a stunned, “Marinette? Is that you?”

Marinette smiled, gaze drifting over to her kwami who gave her a thumbs up. Taking a deep breath, she gave herself just a moment to gather up all the courage she could muster.

Then, “Yeah. I heard you’re looking for some new fashion designers. Can we talk?”

#marichat #miraculous ladybug #mlb #chat noir #marinette dupain chang #adrien agreste #ladybug #this got a lot longer than I had anticipated holy shit #but yeah I don't have ages in mind for this #but marinette is in college #so she's def around 18 or something #so is adrien #ash writes #Anonymous #ash asks

3 notes · View notes

wykart · 5 years

Text

Why didn’t you wait?

Diego and Patch were cute alright? Klaus helps Diego communicate with Patch from beyond the grave.

Summary: In Vietnam it hadn’t mattered. Nothing about his old life had mattered. But now, Eudora Patch was real again, and she was yet another corpse upon the pile of people that he'd failed to save.

read here on ao3 or under the cut

In the end, Klaus didn’t have to try too hard to conjure Patch. It wasn’t as if he had much experience in bringing spirits forward voluntarily, except for Ben, who’d have found his way back to them eventually regardless. He thought about her, the face that had been a ray of hope after his less than hospitable stay in the motel. He hadn’t given it a second thought when he’d pulled himself through the vent and out of that hellhole, it was only now, seeing how torn up his brother was over her death – despite his best efforts to hide it – that he wondered if he could have done something to prevent it. Maybe that was enough, a call for her to answer, or maybe she’d found her way here on her own, searching for Diego. In Vietnam it hadn’t mattered. Nothing about his old life had mattered. But now, Eudora Patch was real again, and she was yet another corpse upon the pile of people that he'd failed to save.

He found her in Diego’s old room, watching him from the far wall. The colour from her face was drained out, and blood seeped out from the hole that ran through her back and out through her chest, soaked through the navy vest that marked her as police. Shame it wasn’t of the bulletproof variety. Klaus’ brother sat there, oblivious, flinging a knife into the air and catching it between his fingers, spinning and swapping the blade in an absent-minded sort of way that he’d made a habit of since childhood. The detective watched with a look of pride and of longing – a sad smile. If she was here, then she must have really cared about Diego. Ghosts didn’t haunt just anywhere.

“Are you going to talk to her?” Ben, the voice on his shoulder.

“No, I…” he hesitated, trying to recall that night at the motel. Everything was a blur, he’d been in so much pain, so desperate, starved, hopeless. “I can’t. This is, well, it’s sort of my fault isn’t it?”

Ben shook his head in Klaus’ peripheral, something he did very often, as people were inclined to do when they tagged along with Klaus. Walking, talking disaster. “How’d you manage to come up with that one? Cha-Cha killed her, put a bullet right through her chest.” He sighed, “that’d do it.”

“I’m the reason she was there in the first place, I got captured then lead her right into their trap.” He struggled to keep his voice below a whisper.

“What were you supposed to do, Klaus? Stay silent and wait for the psychopaths to kill you once they had what they wanted?”

“Ok, but I should have helped her, I should have at least stayed, should’ve at least done something –“

“Hey.” It was her, she was looking over at them, standing there outside the doorway. Klaus pointed at himself, mouthing ‘who, me?’ Relief and surprise washed over the detective’s face. “It’s true,” she breathed, “you really can see the dead.”

Ben waved at her enthusiastically, grinning. Klaus gulped, he didn’t know where to begin. He wasn’t used to ghosts being so… chilled out. What the other’s didn’t realise was that death and pain often twisted the mind beyond sense. The creatures who reached out to him, desperate to be heard, more often than not were something less than human, especially those who met a violent, untimely end. It didn’t get much more violent or untimely than a bullet in the back. “Err,” he stammered, “yeah, yeah I can.” His voice was loud enough now to pull his brother out of his blade-spinning trance. He didn’t seem too bothered. Klaus talked to himself a lot – or rather, he talked to Ben a lot. “Thanks,” he said, quieter this time, “for saving me.”

There it was again, that sad smirk. “Don’t mention it.”

“What did you say?” Diego flung the knife across the room, right through Patch’s invisible form, and buried itself into the neighbouring wall with a thud. Her body flickered blue around the edges, that uncanny sense of unreality to remind that she wasn’t really there. Klaus winced. “Go be weird somewhere else.”

“Oh sorry, are you busy?” He asked, rich with sarcasm, “I’ll let you brood in peace then.” It was a stock standard snarky response, but Diego could tell that his heart wasn’t in it. Something was bothering him. Klaus couldn’t take his eyes off Patch, and the way she was looking at Diego, like there were a thousand things she wanted to say that she had accepted he would never hear.

Klaus caught her eye. “Is it selfish,” she asked, “that I want him to know I’m here?” She chuckled to herself, “I know it will only make it harder, but I also know that he–“

“He blames himself,” Klaus finished. She nodded, and went back to leaning against the wall. The hilt of Diego’s knife stuck through the bloody gash across her chest.

“You wanna tell me what you’re playing at Klaus?”

“I said,” he glanced over at Ben, who was grimacing like Klaus was about to make a terrible mistake. Perhaps he was. “I said you blame yourself, for what happened to Patch.” The silence that followed was heavy, it weighed down on them both as Diego narrowed his eyes, unfathomable.

“And what makes it any of your business, huh?” He jumped up from the bed, landing heavily on the old floorboards with those ridiculous combat boots. “I wasn’t there for her,” for a moment he let sadness betray his expression, and then he was back, “and anyway it’s not like you knew her, you don’t know anything about me either!” Across the room, Patch rolled her eyes and made a face. Klaus sniggered. Big mistake. “Hey!” He shouted, stepping towards the doorway where Klaus was standing. “What’s so fucking funny, asshole, what makes you think you can come in here and talk to me about her?” He took a deep breath and another step forwards. Patch watched on from over his shoulder. Diego’s voice was soft, but the tone was sharp and bitter. “Look, I know you’ve never had someone relying on you like that. Letting people down, for you it’s everyday but not for the rest of us. Why do you all of a sudden care about anyone other than yourself? Why can’t you all just leave me the hell alone?” Klaus stared him down, clam. “I could, but she won’t.”

“What the hell are you talking about.” Surprise came in the form of confusion, but Diego knew exactly what his brother meant.

“She’s here, Diego, I was trying to–“ Diego shoved Klaus’ shoulders, pushing him back. He reeled, scanning the air in a sort of frenzy.

“What do you mean she’s here, where is she?” He grabbed Klaus again, shaking him, “where is she?’ He yelled.

Patch spoke up. “Tell him to calm the hell down for a start.”

Klaus smirked, which only made Diego angrier. “Well, she says to calm down, for a start” Diego scowled and let his brother go yet again.

“Eudora?” He called, eyes wide and hopeful. His stutter was coming back. “C - can I see her? Can you do that?”

“Err, I don’t know Diego, It’s never worked before.”

He nodded, thinking it over. “That’s okay,” he muttered, “tell her I’m sorry.”

“She can, err, she can hear you man.”

“Right, right, okay. Patch?” He rose his voice, as if her were addressing a crowd. He turned back to Klaus, shaking his head. “I swear to God bro if you’re messing with me I’ll –“

“I’m not, Diego, I promise.”

He nodded to himself, tears threatening. “Okay. Well, what does she say?”

Patch stepped out of the bedroom to face Diego’s unseeing eyes in the hall. She searched his face, looking for some sign of recognition. Nothing. “Tell him he’s an idiot. Tell him it was my own damn fault for getting myself killed, not his. Tell him I’m sorry too. But, tell him he’s an asshole too.”

“Okay I’m getting sort of mixed messages there,” Klaus remarked. Ben chuckled, sitting off to the side watching it all unfold.

“I just, I don’t know where to start.” She admitted.

Diego was looking at Klaus expectantly. “Well, spit it out man what does she say?”

“She says you’re an idiot–“

“Yeah that sounds like her, love you too, Eudora.” The detective scoffed.

“Let me finish man, she says you’re an idiot for blaming yourself. She’s the one who went in there alone, and they’re the ones who shot her.”

“Yeah well, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re not here now and that I could’ve changed that.”

Patch spoke up again, ordering her thoughts. “Maybe I would’ve been alright if I’d worn spandex and a domino mask,” she sniggered.

“Yeah, maybe you should’ve chugged raw eggs too,” Klaus giggled.

“She’s making fun of me,” he sighed, exasperated. He pointed at Klaus, “You and her are making fun of me, this is just great. Although you may be gone Eudora,” he lamented, grinning, "it seems I will never escape your ridicule – and it’s leather,” he snapped. She was smiling, nothing sad about it now. Klaus hardly ever saw the dead smile, there wasn’t much to smile about where they were.

“Tell him…” she considered the words carefully, unsure if they should be said at all. “Tell him I love him.”

Klaus smiled, “she says she loves you.” The words barely escaped his mouth before Diego’s fist met his shoulder with great force.

“Fucking lair,” he snapped, “she would never say that.”

“Oww, ass! Don’t dead-arm the messenger! She said it, I’m serious.”

Diego gave a half-hearted chuckle, “I knew you’d come around.” He blew a kiss into the air, facing entirely in the wrong direction, but the sarcastic sentiment was there. Suddenly, his lip began to tremble, comedics aside. “I – I’m sorry, Patch, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, with Klaus, repeating her words in an echo moments after. She stepped closer to Diego, placing a wavering, bluish hand by his face. “be alive, okay?”

“And, err, she’s touching your face right now, it’s sweet really,” Klaus said, trying to communicate the situation.

“I know,” Diego whispered, “I can feel it.” Patch had already stepped back from him.

“No, man, you really can’t.”

“So, err, Patch?” He called, “are you gonna just hang around, is that what you do when you’re dead?”

She smiled, “Sorry Diego, I have better things to do, even now.”

Klaus nodded solemnly. “She says that she’s gonna be watching you every second of every day forever.” Diego raised his eyebrows in confusion. “She’s gonna make sure you’re nice to your brother Klaus and never hit him or she’ll haunt you.”

“Shut the hell up,” he sighed. “What I mean is, can I see you again?”

“I’d like that,” she answered, and this time Klaus relayed her message. She stepped away into the air, and she was gone.

#tua #the umbrella academy #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #ao3 #eudora patch #diego hargreeves #detective patch #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves

39 notes · View notes

unfortunately-lovestruck · 6 years

Text

Colors

This is a cute fluff for Diego and MC requested by @seducemeotome-trash. Thank you for your request, I had so much fun writing it!

Note: This is post vampire transformation for MC, just to clarify the timing.

As always, enjoy!

Colors

“Do you want creme or white for the color scheme?” Diego asked MC.

“There’s a difference?” she blinked.

He laughed, the two color samples still in his hand. MC knew as a vampire one didn’t need any sleep, but she was exhausted enough to do so. Planning a wedding in general was supposed to be difficult, but planning a big wedding was a whole nother monster in itself.

“Oh God, don’t tell me ‘eggshell’ is another shade that’s completely different from the two,” she groaned.

“Um,” Diego cleared his throat, putting back another sample.

“Fucking-” MC threw her hands up, “Is ‘cloud’ different from ‘white’?”

“In some stores, yeah,” he smiled, MC sighing in response. “…Hey, maybe we should save this for tomorrow,” he told her. “This seems nerve-wracking for you.”

“A bit,” she admitted, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he rubbed her arm gently, “This is stressing you out. Besides, the store’s about to close anyway.”

“Uhh- oh it is,” she realized. Half the lights were dimmed and the last customers were leaving.

“Yeah, we can just keep looking tomorrow,” Diego smiled, “We have all the time we need.”

She smiled back, letting him kiss her temple. They left the store before an employee could urge (kick) them out, and continued their conversation in MC’s truck. The radio played softly in between them, a lulled, gentle song with drawn out vocals and steady guitar playing in the back.

“I still don’t see the difference between eggshell and white,” MC lamented, “Eggs are white.”

“Some aren’t,” Diego reminded.

“Okay, but why? Why are some eggs white while others are brown?”

“MC, out of all the subject matters I’ve become well-versed in over the last several centuries, egg anatomy and coloring is not one of them,” he blinked.

“Fair,” she commended, turning the steering wheel, “But next thing I know, you’re gonna be telling me there are 500 different shades of red.”

“Oh God,” he sighed, “Don’t even get me started on crimson and scarlet.”

“Jesus Christ,” MC lamented.

Diego only laughed, the sound almost harmonious with the music from the radio.

“MC, regardless of what color everything is,” he spoke past a grin, “It’ll be the same event, so we probably shouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“Diego, that’s literally exactly what I said in the store,” she reminded.

“Perish the thought,” he feigned offense.

MC snorted, amused at the pompous sound he mimicked.

“Did you actually used to speak like that in like the 1800’s?” she asked then, curious.

“Everybody did,” he shrugged, “Well, in England anyway. It sounds ridiculous and dramatic now, but that was the norm. That is, unless you were someone with a Cockney accent, but that’s another story.”

“I mean I get that it was the norm,” she nodded, “But I don’t know, it’s just really funny to think of you shouting random Shakespearean sentences at someone.”

“Shakespearean was 16th century-”

“Yeah, I know,” she acknowledged, “But the way it sounds… It’s like the stuffy British accent beefed up times ten.”

Now Diego snorted, highly amused at the simile.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been tempted to call Antonio an egg at least once,” she snickered.

‘What, you egg? [He stabs him]’ was the only quote from Macbeth MC remembered from high school, and as far as she was concerned, she didn’t need to remember anything else.

“Who says I haven’t?” he asked, MC breaking out into cackles at the thought of him in a poofy-sleeved vest angrily gesturing to the other vampire.

“What else have you called him?” she asked.

“Nothing PG, I can tell you that,” he admitted.

“Oh my God,” MC suddenly widened her eyes.

“What?”

“I just imagined you yelling ‘Stand ho!’ at him,” she began laughing again.

“My God, it’s ‘standho’, not ‘stand ho’. You are not telling a hoe to stand,” he emphasized, which only made MC start wheezing.

“So you don’t deny thinking of him as a hoe?” she asked, words strangled with laughter.

“I don’t deny thinking of him as a lot of things,” Diego continued, “Qué gilipolla…”

MC was dying, but to her credit, he was laughing along with her, even if it was nowhere near as hard. Finally, they settled down, Diego’s house approaching in the distance as they drove towards it.

“How did we go from color shades for the wedding to the verbal particularities of ‘standho’?” Diego suddenly asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” MC admitted, opening the truck door to get out.

“Well, at least it wasn’t at a Stop-n-Go this time,” he chuckled.

“You laugh as if you weren’t blushing like a 5th grader the last time we were there,” she raised her brows, shutting the car door again.

“Look, you can’t just randomly ask if your blood tastes good like that,” he defended himself, the blush MC mentioned starting to return to his cheeks.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” she told him.

“Alright then, how does my blood taste?” he asked, features completely neutral now.

“I-” she froze, blinking. “You… fuck.”

“See?” he smirked.

“Point taken,” she conceded.

Diego laughed as they headed inside, victorious in their banter. They split once they were in the house, MC taking a quick shower and her fiance following right after.

It was still strange having no need for food nor pajamas when she got home. However, MC decided to dress in them anyway, more for routine and comfortability than anything else. Instead of going for one of her own shirts though, she eyed Diego’s closet, smiling as she cheekily took one of his own and put it on while he finished his shower.

“MC, I was thinking about-Oh….” he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her.

“Hey Diego,” she greeted, acting as if nothing was different. “So, how was your shower?”

“It…” he seemed to be struggling for words, “It… had water.”

MC snorted, laughing at the adorable slack-jawed expression he had.

Five hundred years of knowledge and experience, a PHD, and likely thousands of books read in his time, and yet, he said that when all she did was put on one of his shirts.

“Oh my God, Diego,” she smiled, barely containing more laughter. “Mr. Suave giving the smoothest pick-up lines over here.”

He was blushing again, cheeks furiously red. Regardless, he sat next to her on the mattress, lying back and seemingly trying very hard not to look at her, eyes averting when she angled her body to face him.

“I don’t understand why you do this to me,” he lamented.

“Because your reaction is amazing,” she poked his side teasingly, “‘It had water’? That’s going down as one of your official quotes.”

Diego sighed… “The worst part is I can’t even get back at you,” he said.

“I mean, you can,” she refrained from giggling.

“MC, I am not putting on one of your shirts,” he declared, “My dignity has already taken enough damage tonight alone.”

MC wheezed again, stomach actually starting to hurt from all the laughing she’d been doing. Red was still tinting Diego’s cheeks, but it had faded a bit, and now he was looking at her, attention undivided and features set into an unreadable expression.

It took MC a bit to notice, but when his eyes flicked away as soon as she tried to meet them, she grew worried.

“Diego?” she asked, “Diego, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he reassured.

She wasn’t convinced.

“I was just teasing you know,” she told him.

“No, it’s not that,” he shook his head, “It’s nothing, really.”

MC stared at him for a second, then sighed. She scooted closer, laying her cheek on his shoulder before placing a hand on his arm.

“Diego, you’re stuck with me forever. Literally, forever,” she reminded. “If something’s bothering you, you should probably tell me.”

“It…” he hesitated, “It’s not necessarily bothering me I would say.”

MC’s brows furrowed. “Then what’s going on?”

“I just…” he exhaled, clearly trying to phrase his explanation right. “I don’t know. I see you like this, in my bed, wearing my shirt, looking happy to see me, and… I suppose it’s just surreal for me.”

“Diego…” she started, knowing this was his self-deprecation again.

“And I’m not telling you that to say I don’t deserve it,” he disclaimed, actually surprising her. “It’s more so… I’m not sure. I never really expected to marry I suppose. Even when I was human, nothing worked with Eva, and after I turned, I hated myself too much to even consider the prospect of looking for someone else.”

He turned to her again now, expression hesitant, soft even. There was an air of gratefulness around him, a quiet sort of peace that emanated into the night’s quiet.

“For five-hundred years, I never thought there would be someone who could accept me enough to be betrothed to me. Someone who would want to spend eternity by my side. And now, I’m sitting next to you, laughing and joking, only weeks away from having you be my wife,” he continued slowly, as if still trying to fully absorb that the words he spoke were true. “It’s just hard to believe is all.”

MC’s heart swelled with warmth.

He was so sweet it was actually unrealistic. He thought himself a villain still trying to repent for his sins, all while he healed people for a living, only accepted blood from ethical sources, and said things like this as if they were casual statements and not storybook declarations of love.

MC couldn’t just respond with something short and curt. Something that earnest and heartfelt needed something of equal quality.

“Diego… Look, I never thought I would get married either,” she admitted. “I didn’t think I would find anyone right for me, just like you. I was too preoccupied with my own life, and when we first met, us getting married later on would have honestly seemed like insane.”

Diego scoffed, amused. “I can’t say I would have disagreed.”

“Exactly. But the fact is, we have each other now, and I couldn’t be happier. Marriage always seemed too bland for me. You know, to settle down, live the domestic life, have kids. It was too routine and expected. But I know, without a single doubt in my mind, that agreeing to marry you is the best decision I’ve ever made. And nothing will change that. Not even eternity.”

She had to admit, it was pretty up there on the cheesiness scale, but it was the truth. Besides, it did have the effect she’d been aiming for. Diego’s side of the emotional bond practically swelled with pure adoration, a small smile curving his lips before he took her hand and kissed it.

“Thank you, MC,” he told her, pulling her closer as he settled further into the bed.

“For the speech?” she asked.

“For everything,” he clarified, “Accepting me, loving me, agreeing to be with me. I couldn’t have asked for anything better in my life.”

“Neither could I,” she kissed his cheek.

Silence blanketed them then, warm and relaxing, filling the space perfectly.

However, MC still decided to break it when she said, “Also, eggshell is still white.”

“Oh my God,” Diego spoke, deteriorating into quiet laughs, “You’re not going to change your mind for all eternity, are you?”

“Nope,” she told him, “And you’ll just have to deal with that.”

“I think I’ll manage,” he smiled, kissing her forehead. “I’ve dealt with worse in my life.”

And so MC stayed by his side, smiling and content, more than ready for years, decades, centuries of this to come.

tags: @its-dr-fuego @weird-aunt-writing @tomsatos

#lovestruck #havenfall is for lovers #diego escalona #havenfall diego #hifl diego #yall this was lovey dovey as hell #still had fun with it tho #clearly way too much fun #also dont imagine diego walking up to antonio in 1500s get up and shouting #DOST THOU WANT TO GO WENCH #SQUARETH THE FUCK UP #im in my schools top level english class #this is perfect use of that idk what you're talking about

35 notes · View notes

spottedlekkudancer · 7 years

Note

Hi! May I please have a Hux x reader Modern au where he’s a serious, high powered executive and reader is a kindergarten teacher. Maybe they meet when she’s taking her class on a field trip to a museum and one of the children bumps into Hux. Or in a coffee shop. Something cute at any rate. Thank you!! Your writing is incredible

Mun: Yes you may, thank you for asking

You noticed him the second you entered the grand hall. He stood apart from the crowd around the reception desk, aloof. The gentleman tugged his suit jacket closed masking the vest underneath. Tall, refined and handsome. If you had time you would be gawking at the man across the room, but a passing glance was more than enough to take him in. A large group of small children was your task to manage for now. A pair boys ran to the center of the main room and then in circles around the largest presented exhibit. There were more so excited to be out of the classroom than by the museum of space and science itself. You called after them in a firm request to rejoin the group; the other chaperones busy dressing tiny wrists in neon bracelets. Upon the demand they came bounding in a beeline back for you and in turn trampled into the imposing business man.

Hurriedly you trotted over to the man to correct the young childrens wrong. The boys had run off again before you had the chance to wrangle them. “I’m very sorry about that sir.”

His hand dropped from his ear as he ended a call. “No trouble.” His voice was just as straight and stern as he looked. “I’m sure you can’t promise it won’t happen again. You have your hands full.”

“That’s an understatement. Though I could possibly assume the same about you.” You lauged your situation off. Feild trips were stressful, but the kids enjoyed them too much for you to complain.

“Don’t let the suit fool you Ms…?” He waited for your name before continuing.

“(F/N)”

“Right. Ms (F/N). I can be busy, however, I have assistants for most of my tasks.” He ran a hair though the front of his ginger hair, readjusting it to slick back from the disheveling it suffered under his earlier bump.

“As do I, for today at least.”

He smiled at your joke.

You felt a tugging at your arm. One of your shyer girl students was pulling on your purse to get your attention. “Can I help you Nat-” You cut yourself off. The girl’s last tug must have been harder than anticipated for your strap suddenly snapped at the junction. The entirety of your purse had spilled out onto the floor. You droped to your knees and started gathering the items. Soft sobs came from little Natalie. “No, no sweetie it’s alright. I’m not mad.” You tried to reach for the girl’s hand but she was already running off. So much for consoling her. You hoped one of the other mothers could handle her.

When you turned your attention back to your scattered possessions you saw that the businessman was also on his knees, helping in the collecting. “Thank you.” you breathed with as much gratitude you could muster. “You really don’t have to.”

He shook his head and dumped a heaping handful of things back into your bag. “Don’t fret over this. I couldn’t just stand and watch.”

“That’s kind of you.”

“Your expectations are too low Ms (F/N). This is called human decency.” His hand was held out to you with your phone.

You took it, your smile never having been bigger. “Perhaps you are right. May I have your name?”

The man continued to hold his hand out to you, offering help in rising from the floor. You gladly obliged the gesture. “Armitage Hux.”

Once standing you let go of his hands. They were cold and you remembered something your mother had said to you years ago about warm hearts. “And what is it you do Mr Hux?”

Hux brushed off his suit. “I’m one of the silent backers for this museum.” It wasn’t the answer you were looking for but it was an interesting fact you were thrilled to learn.

You didn’t speak to him much longer. Another man had come to retrieve him for a meeting and Hux politely excused himself. Not that you could have chatted more anyway. You were supposed to be working, watching your little ones. It was a hectic afternoon after that, but one well worth it. Once back on the bus to school you took your phone out of your purse. Four times you tried to unlock it before you realized that this was in fact NOT your phone. You turned it over in your hands. It looked like your phone. That is except for the absence of a small smiley face sticker one of your students had stuck to the back. You leaned over to one of the moms across the aisle. This mom was obviously exhausted and suffering from a headache. You asked to borrow her phone and no objections arose. You tried calling your phone, but there was no answer. Again you tried, leaving a message this time. Then you tried the Museum front desk. They had not found any lost phones. On your way home you made up your mind that considering tomorrow was a Saturday you would go to your provider and report the problem. It had occurred to you that this might have been Hux’s phone but you weren’t sure until you got a call later that evening. You recognized the unsaved number as your own. You didn’t hesitate to answer and immediately recognized the voice of the handsome gentleman.

“It is now my turn to apologise Ms (F/N). I must say it is a good thing that you do not lock your phone.”

You were so relived the thought of him rummaging through your personal things on it didn’t bother you. “Yes, and I’d be most thrilled to have it back as soon as possible if you don’t mind.”

“Unfortunately I do mind. I have several things I need to attend to tomorrow before I can meet you.” The voice that came through the speaker did hold a twinge of hurt.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to take that one. “On a Saturday?”

“Yes. As a teacher I can see how that would be a foreign concept to you.”

“I, umm.. Well when can we swap. Don’t you need the one I have?”

“Not desperately. I still have my work phone. However should you need to make a call you may use mine.” He then gave you the password, making sure you wrote it down. “Perhaps if you are free tomorrow night you will allow me to take you out. I feel I need to make this inconvenience up to you somehow.”

How could you refuse?

Mun: Hope they have a nice first date ;3

#hux #general hux #general hux imagine #general hux x reader #hux x reader #starwars #star wars #star wars ask #star wars imagine #ask

210 notes · View notes

pinkrocketimagines · 7 years

Text

British Puns and Greasy Hair: Part 3

(Cole Sprouse X Reader X Tom Holland)

SUMMARY : You’re off to a breathtaking island with the entire crew to shoot more segments of the show, including a kissing scene with Tom himself! Cole can’t seem to get his mind off you while Tom has you giddy everytime he’s around.

A/N : Guys! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. Thankyou for all the love :) I hope you enjoy reading this one as well <3 Do reblog it, if you feel like, idk, it’s a freeee world x

You’re in a private plane, hired by the Riverdale Productions, on your way to an Island, which Mark has refrained from naming yet, to shoot the next segments of the show.

You’re pretty excited since you’ve never really travelled this far for shooting. Your script said you would have a kissing scene with Tom today. Kissing scene with Tom Holland in an Island? Hmmm.

Everybody is on board, including Tom, Cole, Lili, KJ and Cami. You’re cuddled next to Camilla while Cole’s hooked on a certain novel he had brought along for the trip. Lili is in a deep slumber while Tom, hm, you’re not sure where that 10yr old hyperactive man has gone.

“So, Tom is pretty cute, huh?” Camila cheekily grins at you, nudging your arm.

You scoff,” What’s with that grin? You look absurd, Cami” you fire back at her.

“Oh come on! You know what I mean,”

You turn away from her, still scoffing,”I have absolutely no idea whatsoever,”

“Aw, please don’t tell me you’re still hooked on Cole!”

“Quiet! You’re so loud,” you check to see if anyone has heard her. Your eyes meet Cole’s gaze. He gives a small smile and you return the same.

“It’s too soon to tell,” you quietly murmur into Cami’s ear.

“TOO SOON? (Y/N), IT HAS-“

You immeidtaely cover Cami’s mouth before she lets another word slip through it. “Cami, you’re … nevermind. I’m taking a nap now. Not a word about it, you understand?”

“But-“

“Not a word,”

“Ugh, you’re such a bore! I’m going with KJ,”

“(Y/N),”

“(Y/N)”

(Y/N)”

Angered by the sudden interruption of your nap time before it even began, you roughly pull out your eye mask, “WHAT???”

“I’m bored,” Tom answers in a sad tone, leaning his head onto your shoulder.

He is…adorable. But annoying. Gosh, is he annoying.

“Tom, I’m trying to sleep!” you put your eye mask back on.

He quickly pulls it out again, “I’m SO bored, (Y/n). Captain said we stil have 2 more hrs to go. I swear if I-“

You sigh,” What do you want from me?”

“I was thinking we could, hmmm,” he takes out his phone,”Lets see what we have got here,”

After much deliberation, he finally blurts,” Dubmash?”

You laugh a little too loudly,”Dubmash? Are you-“

His stern look stops you from completing your question,

“Alright, alright. Dubmash it is,”

The next 30 minutes quickly went by with you and Tom laughing like mental! and making fun of each other’s horrible attempt at lip syncing.

“See? I told you this was fun,” he confidentely grins,”Is it okay if I post one on my instagram?”

“Not until you pay me $1 million dollars in cash,” you sternly answer him.

He scoffs,”Pff, I was going to post it anyway! Like I need your stupid permission,”

You roll your eyes and yawn. You’re still tired, you haven’t napped yet since Tom disturbed your precious time.

“Oh look, Zendaya says you look really-“ he pauses after noticing that you had already fallen asleep.

“Over here,” he quietly whispers as he carefully lays your head on his lap.

Stroking your hair as he watches you fall into a deep slumber, he says,”Sleep well, darling,”

You slept like a baby throughout the plane ride, until Tom finally, reluctantly, woke you up to the most beautiful island you had ever set your eyes on-The Seychelles.

Mark has really outdone himself this time.

The rest of the day seem to have gone in a blur- with the producers giving you very little time to get your stuffs settled in the hotel rooms and thereafter, directly heading for the shoot.

You and Tom had the same set location while the rest of the cast had their shoot in some other location in the island.

You’re now waiting for Tom outside his hotel room so you guys can go shoot some steamy scenes! “HURRY UP, YOU BEAUTYQUEEN!” you bang on his door, frustrated. You’re already 10 minutes late!

Finally, the door knob clicks. “Finally!” you groan,”What were you-“

You’re greeted by the sight of fresh-faced Tom Holland in a tight white vest, his muscles puffing out like crazy, and camouflage short pants. Very cooly putting his glasses on, he says,”Missed me too much, darling?”

You roll your eyes,”Pffff, you took extra minutes to put on a farmer’s outfit? Put a shirt on at the least!”

“Aw, I know you like what you see,” he starts showing off his muscles.

“You’re so-“

Out walks in Cole from his hotel room. His eyes widen at the sight of you and Tom.

“Cole, mate!!” Tom happily walks towards him.

Ah, why is Tom always, always, always excited to see everyone?

“Hey,” Cole intimidatingly shakes his hand,”Hey (Y/n),”

“Hey,” you awkwardly wave at Cole.

“I should be leaving, see you guys at the bonfire?” Cole takes his leave,”Bye Tom, Bye (Y/n)”

Ah, encounters with Cole are so awkward now. Quite sad when you think of it; there was a time when the first thing you did at the sight of Cole was run up to him and give him the biggest hug while he returned the same. But now, there’s nothing more than hollow hi’s and easy goodbyes.

Damn it, Cole.

“(Y/n)! Snap out of your reverie, we’re getting late!” Tom loudly blurts.

Ugh, you can’t believe this boy. You roll your eyes,”Look who’s talking!”

The location given to you and Tom to shoot is absolutely stunning. So much so, it has you confused whether the jitters you’re feeling is from the view itself or from the kissing scene you’re about to shoot in some few minutes. You’ve already shot half of the talking scene and you’re now sitting on the resting booth admiring the view of this spectacular island.

“Beautiful,” Tom comments.

“Indeed”

“I was talking about you, actually.”

Wait what. You shoot him an odd look.

“Just joking,” he stretches his body whilst taking in the beautiful view of the sea,”The view is beautiful,”

You roll your eyes,”Why do you always have to annoy me?”

“(Y/n), (y/n), watch this!” Tom , then, runs down the sand and pulls up the most spectacular flip.

You gasp. You swore he was going to fall flat on his face!

“I know, I know,” he proudly takes a bow.

“I didn’t even say anything,”

“I can see it in your eyes, darling.”

Again with the eye roll.

“TOM! (Y/N)!” you hear one of the crew members call.

“That’s our queue,” you get up from your chair, “Let’s go,”

“(Y/n),” Tom puts his arm around you as you walk towards the cameras. You’ve gotten quite used to him putting his arm around you, literally, everywhere you go.

“You know,” he continues,”There’s nothing to be nervous about,”

You push his arm away,”What do you mean?”

“I know it’s your first kissing scene onscreen, Cami told me”

Cami? Gosh, this girl never knows when to keep her mouth shut.

“What?” he chuckles,”Don’t be shy, c’mon”

“You are literally undoubtedly the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” you fasten your pace trying to hide the fact that you’re completely intimidated by him.

Mark instructs the kissing scene to the two of you. Since all the other scenes are done, once the camera starts rolling, basically Tom is going to kiss you until you hear the word ‘CUT!’ and that’ll be the end of it. Sounds easy, yeah?

Tom takes your hand and walk towards the specified spot. They’re still adjusting the lights. While that’s being done, you notice KJ, Cole, Lili and Cami pull out from a minivan.

Ah, so now they’re going to watch my first onscreen kiss live?

“Whenever you’re ready!” Mark shouts

“Okay,” you nervously look up at a grining Tom.

“What?” you ask him,”What’s with that grin?”

“You know,” he gently strokes your face, much to your surprise,”Your breath really stinks,(Y/n).”

“YOU EVI-“

Tom easily dismisses your protest by cupping your face and pulling you in for a deep kiss. It may have been one of the smoothest kiss ever. He was soft, he was careful, he was warm. His hands slowly move towards your waist, gently pulling you closer towards him.

You can already hear the coots and woots from Camila and KJ in the background.

“Tom,” you try to talk whilst he’s still busy kissing you.

“They alre-already said Cut,” you finally breathe out.

“Oh,” he cheekily breaks the kiss, placing his forehead against yours with the most adorable smile on his face.

“Great shot!” you hear the crew members yell.

“See you later, darling” Tom kisses your forehead before running off with KJ to do more flips.

Wow, that was actually amazing.

“(Y/n)!!!” Cami excitedly runs over to you,”What were you saying to me in the plane abo-“

Her voice faded once you met the eyes of Cole himself, staring at you with his weak greenish-blue eyes.

It’s 10pm, everybody is gathered around the bonfire, KJ is playing ‘Summer Paradise’ while Tom attempts to sing in an American accent, everybody looks like they’re having a good time. You’re cuddled next to Cami, smiling lovingly at Tom; he is , although really annoying, the most adorable person ever. The way he tries to make everyone laugh, the way everything he does is cute without him even being aware of it, the way he’s ridiculously good at everything he sets his mind on, the way-

“(Y/n),”

“Uh-huh,” you turn around to find Cole, awkwardly standing behind you.

“Can we,um, talk?”

“Are you cold?”

You’re taking a walk with Cole along the lines of the island, far away from everyone.

“Nah, I’m good” you smile politely at him.

“Here,” he places his jacket over you.

Uhm, okay.

“So, um, what did you want to talk about?”

“(Y/n)…” the sound of his voice already answered your question.

He grabs your hand and pauses the walk.

“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand seeing you with someone else. I thought I could but it’s killing me, (Y/n). You don’t understand, I-“

“You cheated on me, Cole!” you finally allow all your anger to pour out,”You knew I would’ve given up everything for your love. I loved you. With every bit of me. And you chose Lili…”

“No!” he protests,”(Y/n), I didn’t choose Lili. I never chose Lili. I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m so sorry. I’ll always be sorry. I’ll be anything. Anything you want me to be. Anything. I’ll do anything. Whatever it takes to have my (Y/n) back,” you can feel his emotions by the tone of his voice.

“Cole, I can’t-“

“(Y/n),” he cups your face,”I’m still the same guy who you liked to dance with at 2am near the refrigerator light. And I know you’re still the same girl who liked to ruin my hairstyle more than anything.”

You chuckle at the last comment.

“Please tell me you’ll think about it,” he quietly pleads.

“We should get going now. Everybody has already left,” you try to avoid his plead as you start making your way towards the hotel.

“(Y/n)?”

“Yes, Cole?”

“Will you think about it?”

“I-I- will,”

“Tom?”

On your way to your hotel room, you’re unexpectedly greeted by the sight of Tom sitting on the floor against your door.

“Goodness (Y/n), where were you?” he quickly gets up from the floor.

“Geez, Tom. I was-“

He pulls you in for a sudden hug. “Wow, I had no idea I was such a worrier. But you didn’t answer your phone, I didn’t even see you leave the bonfire, I-“

“Tom,” you look up at him lovingly,”I’m fine. I was just having a small talk with Cole,”

“Okay,” he slowly breaks the hug,

”You should go to bed now,” he says as he gently strokes the side of your face and looks deep into your eyes like you’re the ony one he sees. That’s the thing about Tom, he could just look at you, like just look, and make you feel like the most beautiful person!

“Okay,” you unlock your room. “See you tomorrow, Tom”

“Goodnight, darling.”

You stand at the side of your door as you watch him leave.

“Um, (Y/n)?” he turns back.

“Yes, Tom?”

“I don’t have to worry about anyone stealing you away from me now, do I?”

You snicker at his silly question.

“’cuz I would go bonkers trying to find someone else to annoy” he cheekily completes his statement.

“You’re an idiot, Tom. A complete nutcase,”

“Aye, but you still love me!” you hear his voice fade as he slides into his room.

This boy has no idea what he does to me.

A/N: So who would you choose? The guy you’ve been in love with for the longest time, who kind of broke your heart along the way but is adamant to mend it anyhow because he loves you so?

Or the cheeky brown-haired guy from London who makes you feel like a giddy 12year old everytime he says the word ‘darling’.

General Taglist ~ @xbobaaa @riverdrew @dandelions-inthewind @ashleyykabob @bernaboredom @thevioletmarkey @punkrockandchemicalx @acidbabytears @ceruleanjones @riverdalemami @simbatastisc @caitsymichelle13 @allthelove-marz @butterybra @margauxthemuse @tcmhollnd @desicookie @calums-band-tee @pinkglitterycactus @laa-rose @moonlight53 @oceantostars @jasmineeee85 @1022bridgetp @peachy-jordyn @prtmnstr @nano-fantasy @theweaknessstories @castellagreen @louloudeug99 @tear-in-my-heart14 @imstillinlovewithyou @flopmalum @mypotronus @hehaditcoming @jugheadjonnes

#cole sprouse #cole sprouse x reader #cole sprouse imagines #cole sprouse fanfic #cole sprouse imagine #riverdale #riverdale fanfic #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom Holland fanfic #Peter Parker #Peter Parker imagines #peter parker x reader

519 notes · View notes