#remind me not to attempt color matching again for as long as i live

[brotherconstant]

So what can I do? I really beg you, my Lord To me, flirtin' is just like a sport

bonus (insp)

#successionedit #succession #shiv roy #usergif #beegifs #even with the bonus gif i couldn't fit in grace kerry ebba eva and cyd rip #remind me not to attempt color matching again for as long as i live #vampire geraldine my beloved #*gfx #shivtabs #shivrhea #shivwilla #shivlisa #shivlina #shivgerri #shivrava #shivsandi #gerri kellman #karolina novotney #tabitha succession #willa ferreyra #jess jordan #rava roy #lisa arthur #sandi furness #marcia roy #nan pierce #naomi pierce #shivnan #shivmarcia

[openconceptpanicroom]

MBTI Matchmaker:

Gojo Satoru x INFJ!Reader

Summary: Random MBTI pairings with characters. First one is INFJ with Gojo Satoru (ENTP). This series will look at how each match would start out. Also what romantic trope each match reminds me of. Feel free to request any type with any character!

CW: Suggestive language, angst/depressed Gojo, fluff, no NSFW here because these are general romance imagine… but I can make a separate post if requested!

-INFJ-

I know, I know, it’s such a stereotype that ENTPs and INFJs are meant for each other. It’s not always true… but it is for you and him.

The romance trope you make me think of is: “Right person, Wrong time,” and “Soulmates.”

You might just be one of the first people to see through him. And at first, it’s just annoying to him. He actually goes out of his way to avoid you for a good, long time. Chances are, you two went to school together and barely said two words the whole time. He carried on just as he was, meanwhile, you lived in his head rent-free after making a casual observation about him seeming tired back when you were first-years.

You have a sort of calm that draws him in. Gojo wants to be around you, but he just can’t get himself to do it. Something about the pull you have makes him feel bound. He doesn’t like it. Gojo can’t play the jester without you seeing that he’s just trying to keep people around him. You see him, fully. It isn’t something he ever gets used to. On your end, it freaks you out how he doesn’t just use you as a free therapist. When Gojo would talk to you he would ask you/accuse you of things like: “Do you ever think about yourself?” or “Do you not like to have fun? Or is it that you don’t know how to enjoy it?” It bugs you that he sees you with just as much clarity.

To most, you two either look like enemies or just don’t know each other. Nobody knows how Gojo watched you as you leave. Nobody knows how you leave small treats on Gojo’s desk to make sure he’s eating.

It won’t be until he’s a grown man that he would even attempt to get to know you. Taking on the position of teacher at your former school brought you all the things you wanted. Stability, the ability to help others, and enough pay to afford an apartment near a botanical garden. You had no idea that someone like Gojo Satoru would be there too. He seemed to share in the surprise.

Once he starts hanging around you, he can’t stop. The world is so quiet when he’s around you. Like waking up early in the morning after a blizzard. Stillness, warm but never hot, peace. Gojo likes to have solitary chats with you. Which is easy, because you’re either alone or working with your students. A part of him doesn’t want other people to see how he is with you, all soft and quiet. Another part of him just doesn’t want to share you.

Gojo was often surprised by your sense of humor. He had always joked that you were “just as depraved,” as him but everyone would tell him he was crazy. You were pure, an innocent, the “mom friend.” Once he started hanging around you he found he was completely right. It was nice to be around someone that didn’t think you were a saintly, sexless being above all sin. You liked his chaos. His spontaneity. He felt so much more alive than you. Being with him brought so much color to your world.

Your loose friendship dives into romance suddenly. It wasn’t the first time Gojo had turned up unannounced at your apartment. He just did that sometimes. Every now and again you would come home to find him sitting on your couch or digging through your fridge. The day things changed between you was different.

It was late at night. You had just changed into your pajamas when he welcomed himself into your apartment. As annoyed as you were that he showed up at that ungodly hour, his expression kept your complaints inside. You have no idea what happened that day but he looked so exhausted. Gojo had taken off his blindfold and you could see in his eyes that he just needed something. He didn’t give you the chance to ask.

His body crashed into yours, nearly throwing you backwards. Gojo’s arms came around you and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. He breathed in deeply, then said, “Can I sleep here?”

Your hands were on his back, your heart was pounding. After processing his request you started to tell him that you could set up the couch for him. He shook his head, lips grazing your neck “No, can I sleep here?”

“Gojo— I don’t understand…”

His fingers went up the back of your shirt, his palms felt cold. You tried to steady your breathing as he pressed his body closer. Gojo’s voice was almost husky as he exhaled, sighing against the growing blush that crept up your neck. “I don’t want to sleep on the couch. Or in my own bed. I want to sleep here, with my arms around you. With your hands on my back and in my hair. I want to take up all your space, not just tonight. But every night, every day. Will you give me that?”

“I… y-yes. I can give you that.”

Before you knew it, you were in bed. No direct confession of love or discussion of “what you were.” Just his lips on yours and his hands going wherever you would allow. He slept soundly, his arms still around you. When morning came you spent the whole day together. Nothing felt different, but you were both doing all the things you had been restraining yourselves from doing.

Thus began your relationship. It moved swiftly after that night. He came over more and more. Started to show off his affections for you more publicly too, much to your chagrin.

#jjk imagines #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #infj #infj x entp

[bengiyo]

What Did You Eat Yesterday? 2 Ep 12 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

Last week, Kenji finale met Kayoko and Tominaga-san, and it was everything I ever hoped it would be. Kenji shared the story of how they met, and also learned from Kayoko that Shiro is always talking about him to them. We also watched Kohinata play tennis with Wataru, and then cook pancakes with Shiro.

I'm glad Shiro's mom drew attention to the towel Kenji gave her. It's a nice callback and a reminder that she's trying.

Oh, they were visiting nursing homes. Don't you hurt me in the finale, WDYEY.

You know, I hadn't thought about Shiro getting old and still having to care for his parents.

Poor Shiro. I am also not good at giving gifts.

I really hope Shiro makes a cute bento before the end of this episode.

Oh, I cried when Shiro told them about Baby Goro.

They want to put Kenji in their will!!

Shiro, please tell Kenji that you love him and want to spend the rest of your life with him!

I like that the show brought up through Kenji how adoption sucks for gay couples who want to be married.

I hope that this is a super normal bento and not overly cute just to troll Shiro.

I wondered if they would move Shiro's desk, and I like that they got him a new chair.

I'm going to make this bento.

Shiro got them matching aprons in their colors!! I'm going to cry!

Oh, Kenji. Thank you for always understanding this man and saying the things that need to be said.

Well, that was beautiful.

Final Verdict: 10, Highly Recommended. There is nothing else like this show. I have watched or attempted over 300 shows in BL and this is the only one about a long-term committed older gay couple. I loved how morbid this entire season felt even when all the fun and silly moments. Shiro and Kenji are getting older, and so are the people in their lives. There are new opportunities and challenges to face, and I love how so much of this season wraps around how steadfast the support around them is, and also how they are it for each other. I sincerely hope that Japan passes gay marriage while Nishijima and Uchino are still active because we all deserve to see Shiro and Kenji get married. Please watch this show. If you read me regularly, you have seen enough shows about men getting together. You deserve to see them stay together and choose each other over and over again.

#what did you eat yesterday? #kinou nani tabeta #what did you eat yesterday #japanese bl #bl series #Ben watches

[snarky-art]

Dark Bloom post!

Lore below the cut!

In my thing, Bloom is super insecure in s2. In s1, she was insecure in the sense that she didn’t know who she was or where her powers came from or how magic worked. She still ends up kicking ass in the finale, but when she goes back to school, she notices she isn’t able to summon that kind of power again. She learns the real reason she was so strong during the fight during The Attempted Siege of Magix is because The Great Dragon resonated with Daphne’s spirit when they were speaking, and that gave it a huge boost.

Her totally awesome “I’m So Built For This And This Is Who I Am” moment was helped by her accepting her role and who she was (it was the best she was able to utilize The Flame separate from Daphne actually), but it was nothing compared to what even a glimmer of Daphne’s essence could conjure.

In s2, her insecurities now come from knowing who she is in relation to the great royal line of Domino and her feelings of inadequacy as The Holder of The Flame in regard to her predecessor, Daphne.

She does still get counseling sessions helping her connect to aspects of her past, but it’s done with both Avalon and the school therapist present as well as Griselda (having her alone with Avalon with all the weird subtext in s2 with him made me feel ick and as an adult now I don’t wanna have a repeat of that).

Avalon focuses on exploiting the insecurities he knows she has because of her talking about it during their sessions and seeing her struggle to try and gain even a sliver of the power she knows Daphne had and live up to who she was, which only gets worse the more she learns through her memories and general study and research on Dominion history (it’s now much more openly spoken about and is being reintegrated properly into the core curriculum. She does extra research on her own time, to the detriment of her actual assigned course work sometimes. It is indeed noticed by the faculty and her friends. Slipping into her flop era) as well as her continued conversations off and on with Daphne’s spirit.

This form is a manifestation of all her complicated feelings: the sadness, jealousy, rage, guilt, etc., combined with her already present survivors guilt and martyr complex due to her feelings of inferiority and need to do anything she can to make the sacrifices from The Fall of Domino worth it.

Her eyes are yellow and slitted to match Daphne’s, with the purple colors matching the ones used by Dominion royalty and courtesans, specifically those who work with The Flame. Her crown shifts to look similar to the crown Daphne often wore during important events, emblematic of The Crown Princess next in line for the throne. Her darker color scheme is to represent the ashen smoke and decay that came when Domino fell, and to reflect how overwhelmed by The Flame’s legacy she feels, all consuming and as far as Bloom is concerned, worthy of burning her to a crisp with how little she feels she’s worth. Her nails are extended to mimic dragon claws, something Daphne was able to summon and morph her body to have because of how integrated The Flame and by proxy The Great Dragon was with her being. The winged ear piece is also a reference not only to the obvious but to the pointed ears of Dominions, something she feels shame for not having sometimes due to how she had to be hidden away on Earth and as the only living relic of a time long past, the survivors guilt rearing its ugly head and reminding herself of her belief that she’s a poor excuse for a legacy.

She’s a bit more power hungry and her feelings aren’t great in s2 and only get worse as time goes on and with Darkar’s influence, yeah, maybe having the ultimate power would be a decent way to sustain some sort of legacy, since Bloom has no idea what else she could do and what else she should think at this point, being so manipulated and broken down. She gives in to the torture quickly and helps Darkar, and is then broken free by the support of and love from all of her friends at the end of the season, reminding her that she has so many wonderful qualities of her own, that she’s done amazing, she’s done more than she could’ve ever imagined even 2 years ago, and Daphne’s spirit is even able to make an appearance and tell her she’s so sorry, she didn’t imagine the toll holding The Flame would have in her, how that’s her fault, even if she did feel it was the best she could do at the time, with the consequences being unthought of, and how Bloom doesn’t need to live up to her or the legacy she left or even any legacy. Bloom simply living is enough for Daphne, so why shouldn’t it be enough for Bloom?

Sooooo yeah! That’s Dark Bloom!

Also Icy has An Epiphany that she wants to be stepped on but only if it’s by Dark Bloom and that’s all, folks!

#winx club #winx #bloom winx #winx bloom #bloom winx club #winx club bloom #dark bloom #winx club rewrite #winx redo #winx club remake #snarkys rewrite #winx club redesign #procreate #artists on tumblr #digital illustration #illustration

[kararisa]

marigold promises

— 08. twin pendants [☕︎ = 1.0k words]

It feels like hours have passed while you and Albedo have been sitting in relative silence. And you're not sure how much longer you can stand it.

You had arrived just thirty minutes earlier, hoping to have some time to yourself in the grotto. Being a small area tucked inside the campus' much larger botanical garden, the grotto was the ideal place to study or hang out with friends that was out of the way of the usual foot traffic. With a strong internet connection, several picnic tables, lights dangling from the wooden beams above as vines creep onto the glass panes between them, and the general peacefulness of the area, who wouldn't want to stay here?

Unluckily for you, though, any hope of peace was taken away the moment you spotted Albedo already seated at a table, typing away on his laptop. You take the seat across from him and do your best to be… amicable. Any attempt at conversation with Albedo was quickly shut down by him though, so you simply took out your laptop and continued your homework. But now that you were finishing up on your Communications worksheet, what else would you have to distract yourself until the others arrived?

You take a moment to observe your surroundings — in the background, behind Albedo, stands the science department's greenhouse. You recall Tighnari's remarks that, while open to all students, some lessons were held there by specific lecturers. You wonder if you'll get the chance to sit among the lush flora again as you watch a few students stream out of the door.

It seemed like only yesterday that you entered the greenhouse for the first time to obtain your sample of a live plant during a lesson on lab etiquette with Professor Minci. Childe had nearly dropped two of his slides, but at least Albedo’s lab partner, Amber, was nice enough to sneak you one of her extra samples when prof wasn’t looking.

Your gaze shifts to the blond that sits across from you, the sunlight catching his silver pendant. A familiar silver pendant, one shaped like a moon.

The very pendant you bought when you were seven.

It was his idea, as many things were, to wear matching pendants. “A symbol of our friendship,” he once said as he handed you your pendant — your sun pendant, which now rests on a black cord wrapped twice around your wrist — a reminder of the past you once shared, a connection now severed.

The two of you had pooled together your own allowance to buy the pendants during a festival, the hot summer air doing nothing to quell your excitement as you picked out the matching accessories. You helped Albedo put on the necklace, laughing at something he said while he helped you with your bracelet. That day was long past you now, but one thing you remember vividly was a promise: to never take them off.

You’ve kept your end of the deal for more than a decade. And you can only wonder if he did the same all this time.

There were many things you’ve observed about Albedo every time you’ve fought with him over the past couple of months, but it never occurred to you to observe his necklace further. His cheerful smiles have turned into teasing smirks, you hear him scoff more than you hear him laugh, his once inviting teal eyes, ever inquisitive, now usually hold a gaze cold as ice. He likes to tie his hair back into a braided half ponytail, he keeps a pen tucked behind his ear, he still likes to fidget with his pendant. His moon pendant.

Some things never change, you suppose. But is that really a good thing?

“You’re staring, Cupcake,” Albedo’s voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Was not,” you say, looking straight at him.

“It’s hard to concentrate when I can practically feel your eyes on me,” amusement colors his voice as he rests his chin on his hand, “Am I really that captivating?”

“Your concentration must suck if all it takes is someone looking at you to break it.”

Albedo groans as he returns to typing, effectively ending the conversation. It’s just some matching jewelry, a bracelet and a necklace that you two like to wear, but is there nothing more to that? The likely answer is that the necklace is just what it is, a necklace. Nothing more, nothing less. Something for him to fidget with when his hands need something to do.

Sentimentality will be your downfall, you remind yourself. Doing your best to push that damn accessory out of your mind, you nearly miss the way Albedo glances at your bracelet.

“I do know what you were looking at, Cupcake. You’re not that slick,” Albedo says, “But… I never took mine off, just so you know.”

You raise an eyebrow at that, feigning ignorance.

"Make of that what you will."

How do you even respond to that? For every question you’ve answered about Albedo, three more seem to appear. A part of you is tempted to just ask him, seize the answers you want directly from the source.

Out of the many questions, though, seven little words seem to stand out: I miss you, do you miss me?

“I never took mine off either, Sunshine,” you don’t miss the way his eyes widened ever so slightly at what you said, “Make of that what you will.”

The friendship you two had in the past is long gone. So maybe you can settle for this — glares across lecture rooms, test scores, working together when necessary.

Your road to the top has been paved by countless nights spent studying, revising notes while sipping on coffee, flashcards scattered on your desk. This year — heck, this semester — has certainly been hard on you, but with your friends alongside you, and with a certain blond pushing you to do your best, maybe it’ll be alright.

When Gorou finally shows up, followed soon after by Mel and Aika, you’re grateful for the distraction.

“Sorry we’re late,” Gorou says, placing his bag on the table, “Should we get started?”

“We should probably let those two catch their breath first,” you laugh, gesturing to Aika and Mel.

“Not my fault someone decided to take a detour!” Aika says, elbowing Mel.

“Hey, I had a valid excuse!” Mel retorts.

Albedo smiles as he closes his laptop, “Let’s start in a couple of minutes, this shouldn’t take too long.”

Yes, this can work. As long as you don’t lose focus on your real goal: first place.

— previous || masterlist || next

summary: it was evident that you and albedo have changed in the five years you’ve spent apart, but you know better than to view him through the lens of nostalgia. with one goal on your mind – graduate valedictorian – who better to stand in your way than the studious, intelligent, ice-cold albedo? one thing’s for sure: he’s going down.

author's notes: so i only have a couple of days until our school goes on break~ i also have the next handful of chapters drafted but since i'm in the middle of hell week i'm not sure when i'll next be able to post :( but anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this little written chapter

taglist (i): @fvkkyu @mintreen @edreee @khyllynnn @xxmirrorballxx @aiikalvr @yaefics @ch35hir3 @aequha @alch3myy @lovely-althxa @nei-rinn @cridtiins @zestrya @skylions-den @moriiartt @theother-victoria @sunsethw4 @dazaisfavgf @serossidechick @koiir @lazy-sanns @sweetbunnybunbun @dee-zbignuts @redactedhimbo @yurstepm0m @fanfictwarrior @fuyaa @saoiirsee @ireallylikehamsters @elfxiao @cloudxemoji @kitsuvil @orionicchaos @blurr3db3rry @semi-orangeapple @kunikuzushiit @atlatcaheart @wrrapedroundmyfingerlikearing @jewelscara @lost-wicked-artist @kairxse @elysiasbae @eurekatanya @empathum @tatiratty @zannivrs @mikismusings @sunoo-bby @astolary

— the taglist is currently open! if you’d like to be added feel free to reply or send in an ask! – if your blog isn't highlighted it means i can't tag you.

#genshin smau #albedo x reader #albedo x you #albedo smau #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #albedo fluff #genshin angst #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin modern au #marigold promises smau

[void-ink-studios]

Unexpected Guests on an Impromptu Vacation

It's time for some Fionna and Cake!

It's my first time writing these characters, so be gentle with me comments!

What's up next? No idea. But I'll cross that bridge tomorrow. Enjoy y'all!

Word Count: 2,400

Fionna felt like today was a good one. She had the energy to actually attempt to clean her apartment, even do some laundry! Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd get to the dishes. Ah, what a dream.

Cake was chilling on the couch, napping in a sunbeam, living her best cat life.

Things had definitely been picking up, for the both of them. For everyone! Even Simon was keeping in touch!

But, she did wonder a bit what happened to Prismo.

He seemed just so... tired. She had definitely been there, was probably still there when they met. She couldn't imagine being a state like that in a place like the Time Room. As cool as that whole thing was, she couldn't think of herself... living there. As a shadow. Forever.

She hoped he was okay... Last she saw was him getting shattered against a wall by that creep, Scarab.

She sometimes wondered what happened to him as well. He was a creep, he tried to tear down her world in a temper tantrum, tried to kill her and Cake and Simon multiple times, spoke to them with that sickly smug attitude, but... Something was off. Kind of reminded her of Marshall when the two first met.

He was something desperate. Desperate for approval, and decided to make it everyone else's problem.

Fionna didn't know how junk like that was handled by gods, but boy would she have liked to been a fly on that wall.

As she dumped another stack of take-out boxes into a garbage bag, her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Cake groaned, lifting her head up to stare at the door like it offended her.

"You invite anybody over" she whined.

"Uhhh... No? And Marshall doesn't knock. You didn't order more take out, right?"

"Not ever since you changed your phone password."

"You know that was for your own good." Fionna shook her head. "Okay, so, then, who's at the door?"

"Open it and find out, girl. See if it's one of those girl scouts! I wanna try their cookies."

There was another knock on the door. More persistent than before.

"Fine, fine, hold on."

She ran a hand through her hair as she let the door swing open, leaning on the doorknob.

"How can I hel-AAAAAH!"

"Afternoon, Crossovers."

He definitely looked different, not even looking like his human disguise in that weird Post-Apocalypse Farm World. But there was no questioning that red hair, those large eyes, that voice. Standing in her doorway, casually leaning on a cane, just as stoic as ever was Scarab.

"IT'S SCARAB-" Fionna took a few steps back, reaching for anything she could use as a weapon, hand eventually settling on a broom. Cake sprung to her side, hissing ferociously, hand morphed to be much bigger, claws to match.

"What, you here for a rematch, creep?! We beat the stuffing out of you the first time, don't think we won't do it again! Boy, I will punt you to the moon if you don't-"

"Woah, woah, hey, no punting needed" a new voice chimed in. A dark brown hand tapped at Scarab's waist, to which the Auditor stepped slightly to the side.

An old man peered into the doorway. He radiated the energy of a burn out uncle, the fun one you hang out with at family reunions who might smell vaguely of weed. He had long, curly gray hair tied into a loose pony tail, and a beard to match. He was dressed somewhere between sleepwear and beach bum.

"Scrabs, we talked about calling them Crossovers."

Wait a second. That voice... Those eyes...

"PRISMO!" the two girls cheered together.

"Man, I thought you died or something" Cake blurted out.

Prismo laughed with his whole chest. "Nah, it'd take more than a wall to bring me down. I just got boxed is all. Although someone did leave me at the bottom of my hot tub the whole time."

Scarab rolled his eyes, but some color bloomed on his cheeks. Was he... embarrassed...?

"I thought I had already apologized for that."

"You did, I was just teasing. But, anyway, yeah, not dead! Quite the opposite actually." He hit Fionna with a smile that made her want to have smores and sit by the fire with him.

"Wait, why are you so... tiny? You were massive back in the Time Room!"

"Yeah, well, you saw my actual body when you were escaping. I'm just a little old man. Somehow getting hairier and balder at the same time. Someone explain that why don't ya."

"As much as I'm sure this is fascinating for you, may we please come in and sit down a moment...? This body is not quite agreeing with me."

Cake leveled Scarab with a harsh glare.

"And why should we let you in? Prismo, is he after you again?" She stretched her face very close to the Wishmaster. "Blink twice if you're a hostage" she whisper-shouted.

Prismo raised a hand to give her forehead a small scratch as he laughed a little. "Guys, calm down, he's with me. I'm not a hostage, he's not after me, no one is."

Fionna saw Prismo give Scarab's upper arm a squeeze as he directed a very pointed "Ahem" at the Auditor.

Scarab had the decency to look... meek almost as he tucked his head a bit closer to his shoulders.

"I am... I am sorry for my actions against you, Fionna and Cake... I apologize for my pursuit of you, and my rampage in your world. It was... it was destructive and cruel, and you did not deserve it..."

Prismo grinned, giving Scarab a small pat on the shoulder.

Fionna blinked dumbly, looking at Cake for a second. The cat seemed equally confused and shrugged.

"Uhh... Thanks I guess....? Uh... Prismo, can we talk for a second...?"

"Yeah man, sure. Wait here Scrabs, I'll be back."

Scarab nodded, leaning a bit more on the cane.

"Cake, watch him."

"Oh, I wasn't about to leave. You talk, girl."

Fionna took Prismo by the shoulder, guiding him inside. She cringed at the still remaining mess, wishing she had a bit more time to tidy up. Not every day the creator of your universe drops by to say howdy. But, the Wishmaster didn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite, actually, looking at every little thing with a degree of wonder.

"Prismo?"

"Yeah? What'd you need to talk about?"

"...Pris, why did you bring him here? Didn't he, like, wanna kill you or something?"

"No, no, it wasn't like that... He was... in a difficult position at work. Got into some major trouble over what happened here, but I stuck up for him. He got put under my management, and he's been... chilling out. A lot."

"Dude, he tried to erase my universe. He chased me, Cake, and Simon across the multiverse. What kind of 'difficult position' makes that okay?"

"It wasn't okay. He knows that. His apology was a genuine one. But, it was his job, assigned to him by the Boss, to remove what he perceived as a threat to the multiverse. It wasn't okay that he tried to destroy it after it was canonized, and he's atoning for that. But it was his job as an Auditor to track you down."

Fionna didn't look very convinced. Prismo ran fingers through his hair as he thought.

"Look... You guys have, like, the IRS, right? They take your money. No one likes that they take your money, but it wasn't the agent's personal choice to take your money. They might get some glee if they took money from someone they don't like, but it's not the agent's choice to take money."

Fionna frowned, thinking of her own taxes.

"Scarab is that IRS agent. But on a cosmic scale. It wasn't his choice to come after me, it was his job that he was assigned to. He had grudges, so it was more personal than normal, but it was still his job. If he ignored it, he'd be in trouble. Like, major trouble. Getting fired isn't really an option for entities like us. Trust me, his manager was a real piece of work. It was either you or him. But he's sorry he took it as far as he did. He really is. Can you just... give it a chance...? Please?"

Prismo's eyes were big. Puppy like. Ugh...

"...I mean..." she sighed. "...Okay. Fine. Cake, let him in."

She looked at her cat, who was giving her a scrutinizing look. The two had a wordless conversation before she nodded, stepping aside.

She watched in mild fascination and confusion and Scarab... teetered in. That's how she could describe him moving. Teetering. He made a beeline for the couch, sitting down and holding his head. Prismo came to his side, putting steady hands on his shoulder, whispering something.

"What's going on, girl" Cake whispered as they watched the two gods on her couch.

"I dunno. Prismo's vouching for him. Something about a shitty manager, but like, for gods?"

"For real? Man, you'd think they'd be above junk like that."

"Guess not. Could you imagine Queenie or Butterscotch with god powers?" Fionna shuddered even thinking about it. Slowly, she made her way to settle on the bed nearby.

"Right, sorry, we just kind popped up" Prismo said sheepishly. "I... I got permission from one of the Higher Ups to have a corporeal body for a bit."

"Approximately 120 Time Waves" Scarab murmured, sounding a little dazed.

There was a pause of confusion.

"It's about five days, I think" Prismo corrected. "We both got bodies for five days, and I wanted to... well I wanted to see the universe I made. I only ever get to watch junk from a screen, so I wanted to live like... well, like you guys! It's been like, hundreds of thousands of years since I've had to live like a human. I thought it'd be a fun vacation or something."

Fionna snorted. "Bro, you have a sad idea of a vacation if you think my life is a break from god junk."

Prismo laughed with them. "Look, normalcy is a treat compared to the lives we live. When you see everything, it's a break to not know what's happening."

Scarab nodded in agreement.

"...Hey, is he okay" Cake interjected.

Prismo looked at Scarab, gently wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"He'll be okay. His corporeal body's got some... issues. Putting it in a human shape is making him a little woozy sometimes. He'll recover, give him some time."

"Yes, I'll be... okay. It has been a while since I had a physical form and felt like this." Scarab seemed to be becoming a bit more lucid.

As Fionna looked at him, she did start noticing a few extra details. The cane he had rested across his legs was more... practical that the crystal one he was carrying around on the manhunt. He was dressed much more casually than she remembered. Still formal, but more in a "smart business casual" way, with red accents.

Fiona remembered, in the doorway, how he was leaning on the cane so heavily...

"Waaaait a second. You were chasing us halfway across the multiverse and your cane was... You, like, needed it? It wasn't just for show?"

Scarab made a... cricket sound? His cheeks flushed a little, looking away. "...Yes, I needed the cane. What, are you going to laugh?"

"No no, wasn't laughing dude! It's just... you were doing all these crazy back flips and combat poses and shit! If it wasn't so terrifying, I'd say it was flipping awesome!"

Scarab blinked, kinda like an owl, like he wasn't used to being complimented. Prismo gave him a grin, nudging him with an elbow.

"I-I... Thank you... If it means anything, you three were one of my... better chases."

"Uh... Thanks, I think? It's just... wild you're sitting here. And you're so..."

"Non psychotic?"

"Cake!"

"What, it's true."

Fionna blundered her way to an apology before Scarab held up a hand.

"No, she's right... I was not acting in a way that was... anywhere close to acceptable. But... Well, my time with Prismo has allowed me to... find something about myself. Something I had... forgotten, having been in my line of work for so long. It was a breaking point, and I'm sorry that it was your world that got caught in the crossfire."

"Hey man, I've... I've been there. I dropped my pants in front of a boss once. I'm glad Prismo's been... good for you?"

She pointedly ignored the look Cake was shooting her. A look that said "We're talking about this later."

"I... I can't say I expected you to relate but... Thank you. I hope you've found a healthy place as well." Scarab rubbed the back of his head, chittering awkwardly.

"Soooo.... Five days, huh? You guys have like, a place to crash or...?"

Scarab made an exacerbated sigh. "Don't get Prismo started on that Glob forsaken rust bucket he's conjured."

"I got us an RV!"

Fionna nearly choked on her soda at the truly defeated look Scarab was wearing.

"Prismo, that vehicle is terrible, and it smells like pickle brine."

"It's great, you're just cranky, Lovebug."

"Lovebug" Cake whispered, which Fionna shushed.

"We're gonna be camping out outside of town in the RV. So, if you wanna like, come hang out for a cookout or whatever, you're welcome to!"

Fionna smiled at the kind of infectious enthusiasm from Prismo. It was kinda childlike, but in an endearing way.

"Well, if you're looking for stuff to do, we'd be happy to give the grand tour. It's a nice place, when you're not trying to erase it from reality."

Scarab had the decency to avert his gaze but gave an amused smile. "That sounds like an acceptable plan. I'd personally like to know where there's a good place to eat, if for no reason than to veto Prismo's pickle for dinner idea."

"I was winning you over, you gotta admit."

"I will do no such thing, Prismo, it was a terrible idea."

"Aw man... Well, let's get out of here then! C'mon! Lets see the sights!"

"Let's go then, honey" Cake encouraged. "Maybe we could go thrifting and get him into something without buttons" she added as she pointed at Scarab.

Prismo squealed in excitement as he shot up, bounded out of the apartment, nearly dragging Scarab along behind him with a less than dignified yelp, barely enough time to get his cane back under him.

Fionna looked at Cake. Then back at the open door.

"Sooo... They're, like, bon-"

"Oh, they're fucking."

#prohibitedwish #scarab x prismo #scarab the god auditor #prismo the wishmaster #fionna and cake #fionna campbell #fionna the human #cake the cat #prohibitedwish fanfic #wrath of the wishmaster

[middleearthpixie]

Promise Me ~ Prologue

Summary: Friends since childhood, Gabriella has long held back her feelings where Boromir is concerned, as she did not want to risk losing his friendship if he didn't feel the same. But, then he is summoned to Rivendell, and the night before he is to leave, he stuns Gabriella by confessing his feelings for her as well. 

But, war is coming and he cannot put off what he knows must be done. All Gabriella can do is wait for him and pray for his safe return. 

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Gabriella

Characters: Boromir 

Warnings: Some angst… 

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.1k

Tag List: @sotwk @heilith @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

“You can swing at me, you know. You are not about to hit me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Gabriella grunted as she sat up. Her sword lay on the ground beside her, her arms ached from the effort of wielding it, despite the fact that it was made especially for her. Not only that, but it was commissioned by the man now standing over her, looking more than a little smug as he folded his arms over a broad chest. 

“So, why don’t you?” Those thick arms unfolded and he held out a large hand with deceptively elegant fingers. 

She lay her hand in his and let him draw her up. “I don't know. I suppose I fear hurting you.”

He chuckled. “I think it would take more than what you could deliver to hurt me, Gabby. Come, let’s try again.”

“No. I’m sore and tired and my arms might very well fall off if I so much as think about swinging that blasted blade even one more time.”

He moved to pick up the blade in question, then handed it to her. “I don’t know when the next time I’ll be able to spar with you will come, you know.”

“Don’t remind me, please.” She took the sword from him, carefully slipped it back into its scabbard, then looked up at him, squinting as the sun sinking into the horizon behind him temporarily blinded her. She blinked the spots from her eyes and looked instead at him. Boromir, oldest son of Denethor II, Steward of Gondor, and her closest friend in all of Middle Earth. They’d grown up together, and in recent times he was away from Minas Tirith more often than he was there. But when he did come home, he made certain to come by the tavern and see her. And if he planned to be around for more than several days, he found the time to work in a sparring session with her. 

Come the sunrise, he’d be leaving. Rivendell was his destination and he would not say why he’d been summoned there, which meant it couldn't possibly be good. War was coming. She knew it. They all knew it. For the last several weeks, men had been working almost round the clock to attempt to fortify the city, to evacuate as many of the women and children as they could. 

“You’re staring,” he broke into her reverie, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“At you? Hardly,” she snorted. “Why would I stare at you?”

A lie. Of course she stared at him. How could she not, when he was, quite simply, the handsomest man in all of Gondor? He was tall and broad of shoulder and chest, with hair the color of fresh honey and eyes the same green as a lush meadow after a spring rain. He was noble and proud and kind and strong.

And he saw her as nothing more than a friend. The sister he’d never had. 

One dark gold brow rose ever so slightly. “Why, indeed.” He glanced up at the thickening clouds. “Let me see you home before the rains come.”

She nodded and they set off back toward the tavern not far from the inn. Her family ran said tavern, and lived above it and while her best friend Dora liked to tease her about someday marrying Boromir, Gabriella knew such a match was unlikely to happen. He showed little interest in any woman, and even less in the notion of marrying any time soon. Of course, the time would come when his father would decide it was absolutely time, and so would choose a suitable bride for his son.

And that bride would not be the daughter of the tavern keeper. 

They made an odd pair as it was, but no one seemed troubled by it, and she valued his friendship above all else, so if friends was all they were to be, she would treasure it still.

“Do you truly have to go? It’s grown so dangerous to travel beyond the city walls.”

“We’ve talked about this, Gabby. And yes, I truly do have to go.”

She peered up at him as they walked. He was almost a head and a half taller than her, and always gave off that feeling of security. No matter what, she was safe with him and she knew it. He made certain she did. 

“The side of my face grows hot.” He stopped and turned toward her. “Going to tell me you aren’t staring again?”

“Not this time, no.” She shook her head. “I am instead trying to find a reason to convince you to stay.”

“Gabby,” a hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips, “please stop. Staying is not an option. You know this, so please stop asking me to.”

“I know, I sound like a child and I pout like one, but I’m terrified something will happen to you. Something terrible.”

He caught her hands in his and her heart gave a mighty leap at the way the air seemed to crackle around them. His hands were rough from riding, and large enough that they swallowed hers. “I will be fine and when I return, you will laugh at yourself for being so worried.”

“And if you aren’t? If you don’t?” She looked up at him. “I know that sounds so ominous and dramatic, but—”

“Gabby,” he broke in gently, his normally guarded eyes softening as they met hers, “I will.”

Thunder rolled low in the distance as he held her gaze and her heart sped up as she whispered, “Promise me.”

“I promise you. And perhaps by then you will have finally worked up both the nerve and the strength to knock me down.”

“I most definitely will.”

He winked then. “Promise me.”

“I promise you.”

“Good.” He bobbed his head slightly. “Because I will be back. I have a very good reason to be, you know.”

“Well, yes, you have to take your place eventually as steward.”

“Yes, but that’s not quite what I mean.”

Her heart sped up again as his eyes grew softer still and the crackle in the air seemed louder now. Loud enough that she almost expected to see very real sparks shoot between them. The fine hairs along her arms stood and a slight, teasing chill ran along her spine. 

He leaned over and their lips met in a gentle kiss that had her curling her toes in her boots and her fingers about his. His lips were so incredibly soft, much more so than she’d ever imagined, and she had to fight back the rising sigh as they moved against hers. The neatly trimmed hair of his mustache and beard tickled, but only for a moment as he tilted his head slightly, parted those soft lips, and the tip of his tongue eased between her lips to caress hers. 

His one hand fell from hers to come to rest on her hip, then he eased that arm about her waist to tug her flush against him and her heart soared as his kiss deepened, as he bent her body back just enough. It wasn't her first kiss, but it was the sweetest she’d ever received and he drew back to press his forehead to hers, a sheepish smile playing at his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for some time now.”

“I’ve wanted you to for some time,” she replied softly.

“So then you are not about to slap me?”

“Not this time, no.”

He chuckled softly. “Good.”

This time when he kissed her, there was no hesitation, and she melted against him as he wrapped her in his arms as if he’d never let her go.

The next morning, she slipped away from the tavern to head to the stables, where Boromir was readying his horse. She came around the corner, not wanting to startle him, and called, “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

He peered over one shoulder at her. “Trying to get rid of me, are you?”

“What do you think?”

He turned away from his horse. “I thought you’d be with the others to see me off, actually.”

“I will. But, I wanted a moment alone to give you something.”

“What’s that?”

“This.” She closed the gap between them and held out her hand. Coiled in her palm, on a delicate silver chain, lay a silver medallion with a bear etched into it. 

He lifted puzzled green eyes to her. “Gabby?”

She smiled despite her heavy heart. “My father gave it to me when I was a child because I was afraid of the dark. The first night I slept in the dark alone, I was so scared, it took me forever to actually fall asleep. But, I remained in my own bed and left him and Mama alone and so he had this made for me. He told me it was a symbol of my courage and that the bear would watch over me on the nights when I was still scared.”

“I cannot take this.”

“You can,” she caught him by the wrist to turn his hand palm up, let the silver chain spill into the middle of said palm, then closed his fingers over it, “and you will. But, just so you know, I expect it back some day.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am.”

“Very well. If you’re certain.” His eyes softened once more. “Would you put it on me? I’d rather not mangle the clasp.”

“Of course.” She took it and, despite her heavy heart, smiled as he turned away from her. “You’ll have to crouch a bit, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, sorry.” He did as she said and bent his knees to bring him low enough for her to fasten the delicate chain about his neck.

He straightened up then and turned back to her, tucking the medallion beneath the neck of his tunic. “You are certain about this?”

“I am, yes. As I said, I expect it back, so now you have a reason to return.”

“I have more than one reason, Gabby. And I will return.”

Her eyes stung as she nodded slowly and whispered, “Promise me.”

“I promise you.” He bent to her, his kiss light and gentle and when he drew back, his eyes were soft. “I will be back.”

“You had better, Boromir.”

“I just promised you, didn't I?” He stepped back and caught the reins in one hand. “And I will be.”

She nodded, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling. Her throat tightened. Her eyes stung. “Be careful, won’t you? It’s so very dangerous beyond these walls.”

“I will be fine.”

“I know. But I’ll still worry just the same.” She closed the space between them once more, easing her arms about his waist, and let her head come to rest against his chest. Beneath his tunic, his heart beat softly, and she desperately wished they had more time. She should have spoken up long before now, but she was so terrified of ruining their friendship that she kept her budding feelings for him carefully tucked away. But if she’d been brave enough to risk it, they would have had time to share more than a couple of tender kisses.

He folded her into his embrace and she bit down on her bottom lip at the gentle pressure of him kissing the top of her head. “I will be fine,” he whispered once more. 

She nodded, although she wasn't nearly as confident and he held her for another moment or two, then, with a deep breath, pulled away. “I really must go now, Gabby. I’ve a long ride ahead of me.”

“I know.” She swiped at her cheeks, at the stupid, stubborn tears that refused to remain at bay. 

“Don't cry,” he told her, reaching out to brush his thumb along her left cheek. 

“I can’t help it. My stupid eyes will not listen to reason.” She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and stepped out of his reach. “You should go. Everyone else is waiting to see you off.”

He bobbed his head and then swung up into the saddle. “I will see you soon, Gabriella.”

She managed a smile. “Promise me.”

He winked. “I promise you.”

“I’m holding you to it, you know.”

“I fully intend to keep it.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, and his horse ambled down the path from the stable to the road.

She had planned to follow, to join the others in seeing him off, but as he grew smaller, she couldn’t bring herself to move. His scent hung in the air—leather and hints of horse and cloves—and as the silence settled about her, she finally gave up trying to hold back the flood of tears burning the backs of her eyeballs. 

#Lord of the Rings #LOTR AU #Boromir #Boromir fic #LOTR fanfic #Lord of the Rings Fanfic #Fan fiction #LOTR fanfiction #AU #Boromir x OC #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Sean Bean

[cherryblossom-chopper]

》Cinnamon Roll Stakeout《

Content: Usopp Fluff. Swearing. Light flirting. Slightly OOC Ussop because I'm projecting.

My contribution to the Sweet Treats, Sweet Hearts Winter Collaboration. You can find the other contributors if you follow the link!

————— ୨୧ —————

"Remind me what we're doing again?" Usopp groaned, rubbing his eyes as he trailed behind his partner. A hand absentmindedly scratched his chest as he attempted to wake himself.

"I'm just trying to do something nice for the crew, and I need you to be my lookout," (Name) replied, testing wooden steps for unruly squeakiness. They carefully made their way up to the main deck and signaled for Usopp to follow.

He hummed and trod up the stairs. Usopp lazily pulled his curls back into a low ponytail with a colorful scrunchie. "You're not going to get in trouble with Sanji," he sighed, "I think I'm allergic to waking up early."

(Name) scoffed, barely containing their smile. "I'll make you a latte," they offered, hoping such a peace offering would placate their grumpy boyfriend.

"Only if it's one of those tasty honey ones," Usopp replied before slapping his cheeks, putting life back into his body.

The kitchen door jerked open as (Name) reached for the doorknob. They stumbled back, bumping into Usopp, who gave out a little yelp.

(Name)' s hand shot up and covered his mouth. Several moments passed (Name), and Usopp stood on the deck, staring at their captain inside the kitchen. Both parties looked somewhat guilty.

They must've been a sight for Luffy. The lovers, standing in the cool early morning hours, wore the same set of pajamas. Usopp was wearing comfy pants, and (Name) had stolen the matching t-shirt. Both missing either a shirt or pants.

"Don't tell Sanji," Luffy whispered, flashing a grin before pushing past them, seemingly not caring about their intentions.

"Go figure," Usopp grunted, pulling (Name) 's hands off his face. He let them pull him into the kitchen, “I think I hear the pillow calling my name.”

“But I can’t rely on anyone else to help me with the Cinnamon Roll Stake Out,” (Name) pouted a little, “You’re the best look out ever.”

He rolled his eyes. “I really think it’s calling me. If you listen closely you can hear my blanket; ‘oh Usopp I miss you~!” he feigned distress, as (Name) started to grind coffee beans.

“You’ll live,” (Name) smiled. They couldn’t help thinking about how cute Usopp was. Such a goofy sweet guy that was all for them. How lucky was (Name)?

"Here you go, bae," (Name) mused, setting the coffee mug in front of Usopp.

"You're the best," Usopp cooed before taking a long sip of his hot latte. He leaned against the counter, looking out of the small porthole window that decorated the kitchen door.

"Hm, yeah, I know," they replied. The scent of coffee flooding the kitchen convinced (Name) to make their own latte before digging around the pantry,

(Name) set out the dry ingredients before putting a small bowl of milk in the microwave. "Can you get the butter out for me?" (Name) asked, grabbing an apron.

"I thought I was just supposed to be the lookout," Usopp whined as he moved toward the fridge, "Just need me to set it out?"

"Yeah, and then tie this for me," (Name) said, turning their back toward him, holding the apron strings.

Usopp carefully tied the apron and then rested his head on her shoulder. "It's not too tight, is it?" he asked, his breath hot on (Name) 's neck. When they shivered, a smirk tugged on his lips.

"It's perfect," (Name) nearly squealed, jumping away from their partner. When they turned to stare at Usopp, he barely contained his laughter. "You snot," they grinned, punching him playfully in the shoulder.

"Come on, you know you love me," Usopp chuckled and returned to his post, sipping his coffee.

"More than anything," (Name) hummed, washing their hands before pouring active yeast into the bowl of milk they took from the microwave.

They set the bowl and whisk on the counter next to Usopp, asking him to whisk the contents. (Name) moved on to mixing the rest of the ingredients, carefully putting all the containers back where they found each item. They didn’t want to leave any evidence for Sanji to find. Then (Name) took the bowl from Usopp, combining the last of the ingredients.

"I need to let the dough rise for a bit. Then it'll be cinnamon roll time," (Name) sang before finally taking another sip from their coffee mug. They rested a cloth over the bowl before grabbing a washcloth to clean off the counter space.

Usopp rinsed out his mug and rested it in the sink. "So what do we do until then?" he asked as he began washing the extra dishes.

(Name) sat on the counter, where Usopp had been standing, to get a good view out of the kitchen doors window. Sipping their coffee, (Name) rubbed their eyes.

"I guess we're just going to hang out for a bit," (Name) shrugged, watching the melted whipped cream float at the top of their cup. Their eyelids began to feel heavy as the adrenaline of sneaking into the kitchen had worn away. They let out a great yawn.

Usopp failed to stave off an equally big yawn in reply, to which (Name) smiled.

"Oh~ you like me," (Name) teased, "How embarrassing."

Usopp dried his hands and grinned, "I do like you." He strolled to (Name) and took the coffee mug out of their hands. "I like you quite a lot, actually," he said, wrapping his well-built arms around his partner's waist, "You could say I'm infatuated with you." Usopp leaned in close, kissing (Name).

They melted into his touch, and one hand cupped Usopp's cheek. (Name) tried and failed not to smile.

Feeling the curve of their lips, Usopp broke off the kiss. He rested his forehead against theirs. "I think I might even love you," he murmured. The peace and privacy of the early morning kept him from feeling terribly embarrassed.

Hearing a noise outside, (Name) unhappily moved away from their partner. They peeked out the window, only to catch a glimpse of blond hair making its way toward the kitchen.

"Ah fuck, it's Sanji," (Name) swore, pushing Usopp away from the door.

"What do we do?" he gasped, "Sanji's going to kill us." The once sweet moment had descended into near-comical fright from both parties.

"Um-uh-let's- oh! The pantry," (Name) stumbled through thoughts, shoving Usopp toward the large pantry, "We can try to hide in there."

"Obviously, Sanji's going to look in there," Usopp protested. He moved toward it regardless.

(Name) huffed behind him, "Duh, but I don't have any better ideas."

The couple tumbled into the pantry, closing the door behind them. The two moved around encased in the darkness of a walk-in-pantry.

(Name) grabbed Usopp's hand and pulled him into a spot behind a few barrels of ale. They snuggled close to Usopp's side, trying to settle their thundering heart.

Usopp leaned his head against the wall and squeezed (Name) 's hands. When they squeezed back, the warmth of affection swept through him. All would be well. Sanji wouldn't kill them; at worst, Usopp would get kicked, and Sanji would scold them. The ridiculousness of them hiding in the pantry dawned on him. A little snort of laughter escaped him.

Usopp's laugh made (Name) giggle, making Usopp laugh more until the two of them were in hushed giggles. Both of them tried to shush the other between laughter.

A sudden light washed over them. Sanji had swung open the pantry door. He marched over to the barrel the two of them were hiding behind.

"Okay, lovebirds, stop being perverts and get out of my kitchen," Sanji ordered. The sharp sound of his shoes tapping the wood filled the entire area. He rested his hand firmly on his hip.

"We're not perverts," (Name) protested.

Sanji hummed in response, "Seems like the world's lamest seven minutes in heaven to me," Sanji said, pulling (Name) to their feet.

"It wasn't like that," Usopp remarked, following (Name) out of the pantry, "We were making cinnamon rolls and-"

Sanji clicked his tongue, cutting his crewmate off, "Save it, perv. I don't need the details."

The couple both wailed in unison, denying Sanji's allegations.

(Name) went back to the counter where the dough had been resting. "See? I was gonna make breakfast," they cried, pulling the cloth off the top of the bowl.

Sanji inspected the bowl and gave the dough a tentative poke. He huffed for a moment. "Oh, fine. You can finish it," He sighed, giving in, "Just no mushy stuff in front of me."

"Fair enough," Usopp nodded in agreement, "Mission Cinnamon-Roll-Stakeout has officially failed."

(Name) patted his shoulder sympathetically. "No worries, love," they comforted, "You can help me finish breakfast instead."

"Really?" Usopp perked up, "Mission Making Cinnamon-Buns-with-my-Honey-bun accepted."

————— ୨୧ —————

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[fountainpenguin]

"If you wanna stay young, get both feet in it! 18 'til I die!" (x)

---

6 years ago I posted this art on my blog, and now it's finally time to share the story that goes with it! New Origin of the Pixies chapter today!

Chapter 42 - “The Unicorn Years”

Read on FFN || Read on AO3

Start from Chapter 1

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Today's the day that Sanderson celebrates his adult wings… By which I mean it's the day that H.P. celebrates Sanderson's adult wings. I'm not getting ANY flashbacks to how Ambrosine treated H.P. when HE was young. Come say hello to the newest adult in the cloudlands (and party on)!

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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The Unicorn Years

Autumn of the Murky Roots

I have to confess, it amused me how mortified Sanderson was to have his first real birthday party. He'd always been a difficult nut to crack. I knew of little that could fluster him. Of all the things to do it, it would be a birthday celebration. To my own surprise, I actually didn't mind the event… or the shifting of attention from me to him. Let him have his day. Things would be back to routine again soon enough.

"Are you still sore?" I asked when I fetched him from his apartment that morning. Hawkins and I had already started cooking breakfast in the other building. It wasn't like Sanderson to be late when it was his turn to help. Granted, at 159k myself, I'd been a loudmouthed rebel- but Sanderson? Nah. He was too dependable to bail on me without a two weeks' notice.

… Huh. I'd been 174,000 when I fled the Academy, jumping from Fairy World to Earth. I was over 491,500 when I came crawling back. And over 650,000 now, though Venus Eros had worked the best magic on my body that she could in an attempt to keep me youthful. How strange. A full 650k years of life experience under my belt, and sometimes I still felt only as mature as that sharp-tongued little "fairy" juvenile who dropped out of school. This body that I wore had been twisted up, dunked in the wash, scrubbed with bleach, and hung to dry again. I lived now on extremely borrowed time and Venus held my leash in the palm of her hand. That's not a favor I can ever repay. I am in her debt for the rest of my existence, and I suspect the rest of the pixie race is too. Which is just peachy. Love that for me.

"Incredibly sore, sir," Sanderson mumbled. He gripped my forearm with both hands, every step slow and wobbly as we made our way through the apartment hall. He'd put on fluffy snowflake socks that I didn't remember ever seeing him in before. No shoes. Still had his casual clothes on. His heels scraped along the thin carpet, scritching and scratching.

"It will pass."

Sanderson glanced over his shoulder at his new long, sweeping wings. I drank him in too. He's grown several inches taller than he'd been as a mere juvenile. Not quite as tall as I was, but getting closer. His wings now matched mine in length, though mine glittered transparent blue. His were tender, still smudged and milky-colored from the moulting. They reminded me in their haunting way of that afternoon nearly 160,000 years ago when Kalysta held him to her breast, nursing him until the flight casings cracked off his wings. He said, "The return to normalcy can't come soon enough, H.P.… I don't think I've ever ached this harsh in my life."

I trailed my eyes to his again. Sanderson, weak and winded, hadn't put on his shades. Those little lavender flecks looked just like mine. How strange. As a gyne, I was bulkier and more freckled than he was, but we shared every single one of our genes. We even shared the Ivorie brand cowlicks in our hair.

"That's only to be expected," I told him (in response to his complaint about the soreness). "You've just shed every pore on your body and put on several inches. The elasticity in your new skin isn't fully developed yet. Things will hurt more than you're used to. That goes for both inside and out. Be careful."

I didn't pressure him to help with breakfast, and especially not when he kept scratching off flakes of skin. His scalp had gotten the worst of it, so he kept pulling off little flakes from around his hair follicles. The younger pixies badgered him constantly about his new shape when he arrived at the pavilion. I had 320 of them now. 320 pixies who left me dripping with exhaustion and insanity every other day. Pregnancy had dealt a heavy blow to my once-youthful body, even though I didn't carry them the way that Fairy drakes did, but so far, Venus's medical intervention was winning. Hadn't died yet. And when we were in the pavilion and I sat across from Sanderson with my plate… it almost seemed a guarantee.

159,426 years.

Sanderson had his adult wings now. I'd known it was coming. Not the date, but I was just over 154,000 when I moulted into mine. He'd used less magic growing up than I did, aging more slowly because of it, but apart from that minor delay, our shedding patterns seemed nearly identical.

159,426. His inner organs, up until now the size of raisins in his tiny juvenile body, finally had room to grow. Exactly 500 years from now, he'd be fully fledged. Capable of reproducing… Well, if he were a Fairy, at least. I wasn't sure how things worked for pixies… I hadn't had Sanderson until I was almost 490k. Would his body draw the time out equally long? Or would there be third-generation pixies just a few centuries from now?

Three generations. My employees with offspring of their own. Yikes. Was I getting that old?

Bayard, holding little Featherstone (who scrambled over him), let out a whistle as Sanderson clumsily tried to push his new, longer legs between the picnic table and its bench. "Well, moulting sure acts fast. Your hips have already gotten wider, studmuffin."

"Have they?" Sanderson lifted his shirt and started to check himself over. I yanked it down down.

"Not here. Wait until you're alone."

"Yes, sir."

I contacted the Eroses during breakfast. Drk. Cupid answered my call, but he and his brothers had their hands full of work. That was fine by me. I was just glad a responsible adult - Drk. Ludell - poofed out in their place with his clipboard and wooden examination tools. Sanderson protested his probing, still wanting to eat his breakfast, but I held firm.

"Stay here and let him run his tests. You're the first adult pixie besides myself the Eros family has ever been able to observe. I need to get in contact with your Refract anyway. While I'm gone, show due respect to the Triplet of the Evening. He's overworked and underhyped."

Sanderson rolled his eyes, but that was the most youthful rebellion I saw from him.

[Cnt'd on FFN / AO3 - Links at top]

#Origin of the Pixies #Sanderson is neat #FAIRIES! #ridwriting #We're Pixies! #I'm wasp dad trash #Cedar toothpick #Fairywren farmgirl #Songbird PTA mom #I don't have a tag for Dame Cosmo and I'm upset #apparently art #Blog throwbacks #fic announcement

[valyrou]

Hello, may i request for a BSD romantic/platonic matchup ? (Whatever inspires you the most ! :'D)

About me :

I use any pronouns, mostly she/her , he/him and they/them, any is fine with me ! (Me genderfluid ig zjzu) I am pansexual and so i don't mind the gender i'm being matched with, i'm also asexual

As long as you don't pair me with mori i'll be okay

I kin some characters, you don't have to know them or make researches about them but i'll name them just in case that can help

So yes firstly i kin Dazai from bsd -

and i kin reki from sk8 the infinity

And 707 from mystic messenger

I'm requesting matchups because i'm curious

I like :

Chocolate : It's some type of comfort food for me and something that is kinda apart of me now as when i was younger i was known for the crazy quiet kid obsessed with chocolate

Chips aswell, there was a period in my life where i did weird experiments with chips. I can tell you do not put chips in the microwave they're not gonna be any tastier... My best friend wants to ban me from the kitchen since this chips-experimental small phase of my life. Which is good for me since we plan to live together with some other friends and that would mean i wouldn't be the one carrying the burden of cooking, cheers !

My bed ; I'm a very lazy person and somedays all i'll want to do is laze around in this heaven of mine. Somedays the world is too heavy for me to even get out of this magnificient bed that i dearly love. #Tryingnottoturnsleepingasacopingmechanismasitshouldn'tbe

Skateboarding ; I also might not be this much of a lazy person as i get urges to go outside and skateboard, sometimes i'll fall my ass off and that's completely fine, sometimes i'll completely get hurt but that's okay, it's apart of skateboarding ! More excuses for me to laze around? As long as i have the freedom to skate around a bit and i only ever get stopped when i'm hurt.. Teehee

Sleeping ; Sleep is precious to me, if i'm staying up or thinking about not sleeping much, bully me to sleep please. Even a few minutes is important. Else without sleep i go crazy and i might end up feeling down for a whole week just because s l e e p

Hugs : And i will struggle to admit that because of my ego. But please hug me🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 we can take naps hugging 😌

Comfort : please even though i run away from that please

Joking around and laughing : being serious is nice and all but i like joking

Pranking : though i do it rarely so that i can get my friends by surprise i'm always proud when they fall in my rare and small traps. Eheh 😎

Music : because, like, m u s i c

Being a daddy (not nsfw it's a joke zizkzkzk)

The color purple (i'm obsessed with it)

And bright colors (mostly red & yellow)

Any colors actually (brown and blue are slay too)

But mostly purple

And red

Stars : looking at the stars in the night sky is awesome. In fact my room's wallpapers are stars and i put some effects to feel like i'm in space at night. Nice.

Otome games 🥺🥺 >_<

Calls

Friends

Once again, hugs please

I dislike :

Dazai's suicide attempts : they'll make me sad and remind me of a lot of bad memories i can't even count - i could get triggered but that'd be rare i think 🤔

Stress : frick stress

Authority : you don't tell me what to do 🙄💅

School : if i ever go to school again, don't lose time and just put me in a mental hospital smh

Uncaring people : i'm sensitive plz don't break my fragile heart and please show that u care abt what i say 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💔💔

Death : i want to live infinitely with the people i care about😔😔😔😔😔😔

Chips cooked by microwave

Chips in a chocolate bread sandwich

Chips on yogurt

Too much seriousness

Too much activity

Having to look good ; too much of a chore for me smh let me dress with the first clothes i come across

Personality traits :

I'm so lazy it became a personality trait

Funny, i make my friends laugh and I make myself laugh so idk

Caring, though i might seem distant sometimes, probably because i'm feeling too lazy/overwhelmed to show my care. RIP.

Quiet sometimes, Loud the other times

Sincere , yas i'm honest as hell and if you bother me i'll say it, which happens rarely but it's good to know i guess-

Maybe not a personality trait but i seem either happy to other people

Thinking mess : i think a lot and zone out a lot even while walking and talking. Could get lost bc of that tbh

Considerate ; teehee 😌

Kind ; teehee🥺

Bright, wait didn't i already say that-

I'm an understanding person

I'm either energetic or dead, but i bring good vibes okay

What i look like :

5'4 tall

Short dark brown hair that i like to cut bc i don't wanna brush my hair so i hate when it's not cut

Dark brown eyes

I mostly wear a purple or black outfit i guess?

Hobbies :

Writing fanfictions about my friends because it's funny

Making videos because i don't know

Skateboarding because i love the freedom feeling

Staying in bed because frick the concept of an active life

Read some books bc like books are slay

Watch videos

Talk to people through discord mostly

Thinking and let my thoughts wander as i scroll through tumblr and youtube

Backread discord messages, funny and comforting ones teehee

MBTI :

I thought i was an INFP for 2 years

Turned out i'm actually an ENTP

But my extrovert and thinking percentages are very middle middle

So you could say XNXP but i'm 90% sure i'm an ENTP

It just means i may sometimes act like an INFP, INTP or ENFP

I don't know why but when i'm at my lowest i act more like an INFP

I don't know why either but it's very rare to be introvert and thinking at the same time so my INTP phases are very rare

I don't know why i'm more like an ENFP or ENTP when i'm in the best times of my life

But anyways i'm ENTP you know some details now, if that can help

I think i'm done ! I hope i didn't say too much and that was enough for you, if you're not inspired or don't want to do this , it's completely fine ! Please take care and i hope you have a great day or night ^^

A/n: I don’t believe you are lazy BECAUSE YOU WROTE A WHOLE PARAGRAPH???? I‘m joking lolol anyways

You seem so nice and sweet like be my friend????

Also it’s a little short so i feel sooooo bad but I hope you enjoy anyways :))

I had to think abt this one quite a bit but I think I‘m gonna pair you with…..

RANPO!!!

You are kind of similar yet different

I imagine you both going off to do silly things because NO ONE TELLS YOU WHAT TO DO

Ranpo also needs hugs like??? Cuddle this genius please

The only person he would share his chocolate with tbh

Also you kin reki, Dazai AND my babygirl 707??? What do they all have in common???? They all have a „happy“ and fun side, yet they also have a quiet and dreadful one to them. They all have a partner that is calming or just „quiet“, be it langa or Mc.

Your fun and entertaining side also has a quiet one to it, so your s/o Ranpo will be your other piece to that cliché trope

Cuddles on the sofa

Also you‘d be friends with Poe and Atsushi especially

Your kind and caring traits are no barrier to anyone so anyone could be your Friend (except Mori, you‘ll probably set him on fire)

Kunikida wouldn’t know what to do with you

You and Ranpo are a silly couple idc

Ranpo will ask Poe if he could write a story for you and him to solve together (kinda escape room date vibes)

Teases you a lot but in a cute way if you don’t get the answer to a riddle

Also I believe that Ranpo wouldn’t engage in sexy times, just because he doesn’t find the whole „making baby’s and stuff“ things interesting so no problemo

Will give you his cape sometimes if you ask with a pretty please

If it rains he will pull you close and cover the both of you in his cape while smiling like an idiot

#Bsd #Bsd imagines #Bsd Headcanons #bsd matchup #Bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs x reader #Bungou stray dogs matchup #Ranpo #ranpo edogawa #ranpo x you #ranpo x reader #bsd ranpo #bsd x y/n #bsd x reader

[itgirlwife]

protagonists don’t do laundry

summary: puck and malcolm meet for the first time.

pairing: honeymoon suite | puck/malcolm

words: 1209

notes: serves as an introduction to my self insert (who is just me, really), first person pov (i’m a reliable narrator! i swear!!!)

I am wasting away in this bedroom. And the heat and humidity only add to my misery. Loneliness is the bitter frosting on top but if I admit it is, I’ll start crying. I’ve dreamed up scenarios where I lived on my own comfortably and happily. I got what I wanted, but my chest has had a hole in it since I moved in.

The hole gets bigger with every reminder of how lonely I am. An empty bed. A quiet home. Unanswered texts. Watching movies alone in my living room. The only thing I can point a finger at is myself. I got tired of applying myself to people. My attention dwindled along with my energy. People who were interested in me started to bore me and people I grew interested in intimidated me. For the sake of my anxiety and insecurity, I stopped trying. 

I romanticized my loneliness. When silence got loud, I put on music and pretended I was in an 80s movie. I wore platform boots to go grocery shopping. I ordered food from places I wanted to take potential dates to. All these things are fun until it’s over. 

The white ditsy floral sheets, now damp with sweat, were a product of my romanticization. If my room was pretty, I’d feel pretty. It worked but I fear my room will lose its luster after a while like everything else was. Groaning, I threw the matching comforter off my body and got out of bed. It’s too hot to be standing. I begin to remove the sheets from the bed. It’s like removing makeup. Yellowing pillows, plastic covering the mattress. Pretty on the surface but dull underneath.

Balling up all the sheets and pillowcases, I make a half-assed attempt to throw them in the clothes bin. I miss I but realize the bin is overflowing. Doing laundry isn’t something I can romanticize, so I neglected it. It made me feel common, non-cinematic. Protagonists don’t do laundry but the overflowing bin ruined the “aesthetic” of my bedroom. Groaning again, I accept defeat. Today is a laundry day. Part of me doesn’t mind. I needed an excuse to dress up.

—

To my dismay, almost all of my good clothes were in the dirty clothes bin. All I had were sweats and a t-shirt. Both of which are black. Horrible combination. It’s stupid hot. My walk to the laundromat wasn’t long but it felt like I had spent hours in the sun. By the time I got to the laundromat, my back was damp with sweat and my pants became uncomfortable. I want this to be over quickly, so I shoved the sheets from the laundry bag into the washer in handfuls. Angry, annoyed, handfuls. 

Once the machine is half full, I do the same with the next washing machine, not separating anything, or turning anything inside out. Clothes fall to the tiled floors and it only makes me angrier. I pick them up just as viciously as I shove them into the machine. If I didn’t care, I’d slam the door shut but there are people here, so I care a lot. I add quarters to both machines and finally plop down on the row of plastic chairs behind me.

“You don’t separate your whites from the colors?” It’s a man’s voice. He’s sitting two seats away from me.

“No.”

“Your clothes won’t wash properly if you do that, love.”

Love. I like that for me. “Well. It hasn’t been a problem in the past. I just found out that you aren’t supposed to be filling the washer all the way up.”

He stops slouching and sits up straight, brown strands of hair come down his face with the movement. “What do you mean you just found out?”

I shrug. “I mean, like, I discovered that a month ago. I just put everything on colors.” The first time I did laundry, I was 14. The first time I did laundry almost properly, I was 20. The difference is that I read the instructions on the washer.

“Colors?” His pretty brown eyes look like they’re about to fall out of their sockets. “You’re going to kill me and I don’t even know you.”

“White is a color.” Though I think about Googling it later in case I’m wrong.

“Ok? But there’s a setting for that color. You wash them separately on the whites setting.”

“I don’t believe in segregation.” He laughs and I feel like I’m floating. He almost doesn’t seem real.

“You’ve got a pretty head on your shoulders. A funny brain in there too.” 

I nod. Not because I agree with him, but because my brain is too busy turning to liquid to speak. A dryer beeps and I’m back at the laundromat. He excuses himself and tends to his clothes. 

I feel sick and excited. My heart’s on speed. These feelings scare me, but I’ve been wanting to feel them for a long time. There’s something nostalgic about this person I’ve never met. I’ve seen him in a movie or I met him in a daydream. Raoul Duke from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Neo in the latest Matrix movie. Almost Famous. Dazed and Confused. I describe him with movies because no one like him exists. He embodies cinema. Fiction and nostalgia.

Within a minute, he’s standing in front of me with his bag of clothes. 

“Do you have a pen?” 

I shake my head no. The hamster on the wheel in my head stopped running a long time ago.

“That’s a shame,” he pulls a pen out from his back pocket and takes my arm with a ring-clad hand, “you’ll never know when a handsome stranger is gonna give you their number.” He begins to write his digits on my arm. Light enough so he isn’t poking me but hard enough so it appears on my skin. I don’t even notice when he drops my arm. I’m elsewhere. I’m in a movie.

“What’s your name?” He asks. This isn’t a movie. It’s real life.

“Puck.” He raises an eyebrow and smiles again. I want lightning to strike me. 

“Cute. My name’s on your arm so you can’t spell it incorrectly. Malcolm.” Cute. Cute. Cute. My head plays it over and over like it’s casting a spell. I look down at my arm. His name is written in all caps with an “x” next to it.

Malcolm throws the bag over his shoulder, an indicator that our interaction is ending. The hole in my chest closes but stays open an inch, knowing that he’s leaving.

“You’re going to call me, yeah? Hopefully, the next time I see you, I’m taking you on a date.”

I nod again. He smiles.

“Good. Take care, Puck.”

He leaves. I’m still sitting here like an idiot. It didn’t seem real. I look at my arm again. It’s real. The laundromat didn’t exist in those few minutes, so my wet clothes have been sitting in the washer for who knows how long.

Putting them in the basket, I noticed a pink top, pink pants, and pink socks. Everything is pink, or stained with pink dye. The colors bled and stained my clothes. I was given a warning after all.

#🍒.docx #💒 — honeymoon suite #self shipping #self shipping community #self ship community #hi lol #it’s late and i have work tmrw but idc!! pre relationship honeymoon suite be upon ye!!!

[leighsartworks216]

I’d Like To Walk Around In Your Mind (Songfic)

Loki x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 4,194

ao3 link to fic

Loki Masterlist

I'd like to walk around in your mind someday

I'd like to walk all over the things you say to me

"What'cha reading?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

Loki thought perhaps his dismissive reply would shoo you away, yet you continued to sit across from him in front of the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows Stark was so fond of. He didn't let his irritation show. Rather, he flipped the page, doing his best to ignore your studying gaze as he continued to read the next page.

"What're you thinking?"

He lifted his blue eyes from his spot to glare at you.

"Nothing I'd be willing to share."

Your relationship with the God of Mischief wasn't quite as strained as the relationship he had with the other Avengers. At the time of the Battle of New York, you weren't an Avenger, and when you were added onto the team, you didn't give him any grief over it. He would go as far as to say he appreciated it, but then again, sometimes he believed he gave you too much of a rope to pull.

Often times, while he was reading or just trying to enjoy his stay in his fancy, hi-tech prison, you would be there, ready to bother him. Perhaps some part of him wished you would just be like the others, detest him for his crimes again Earth, shun him and insult him as he walked by. It would make life so much easier.

"Don't you have anything better to do than irritate me?" he spat.

You drew out a long sigh, standing up from the floor and dusting yourself off. "I suppose I do." Despite his rudeness, you still smiled and gave him a sweet, "Enjoy your book," before you wandered off through the rest of the compound.

He just had to be so rude to the one nice person here, didn't he? He bit his tongue, upset with himself.

Still, in the peace, he allowed his feelings to seal themselves away deep inside of him, as they always did, and he buried himself back into his book.

I'd like to run and jump on your solitude

I'd like to rearrange your attitude to me

The next time he saw you was late into the night. His mind was often cruel when he slept, so to pass the time until he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open any longer, he often stayed up and did what he could to distract his mind. Tonight, he had decided on a puzzle Thor had given him. The image wasn't very appealing - some Midgardian creatures he called 'puppies' - but trying to match the colors in the dim light of the living room gave him something else to focus on than the images that wanted to flicker behind his eyes.

He nearly jumped in surprise when suddenly someone was sitting next to him on the couch.

His eyes studied you wearily for perhaps a little too long, but you didn't say anything if you had noticed. You carried two cups of steaming liquid, though Loki couldn't tell what it was, and you were looking over what partial of the puzzle he had completed so far. Your pajamas were only lightly wrinkled, your hair hardly disturbed. It must have been a tough night for you, too.

"Here." Your voice was soft in the silence of the living room. You held out one of the cups to him. He hesitated in taking it, but he appreciated the warmth it brought to his fingertips if nothing else.

He sniffed the liquid cautiously, before giving you an accusatory look. "What is it?"

Your gentle laughter was like a quiet melody. "It's chamomile tea. It helps when you can't sleep."

The tea wasn't as bad as Loki had feared. It was certainly no Asgardian brew, but the herbal taste made his muscles relax slightly. He was quickly reminded of thoughts he wished to avoid, and so he set the cup down to the side of the coffee table and began pairing (or, rather, attempting to pair) pieces together.

You simply watched on in silence. Every now and again he would see movement in the corner of his eye as you brought your cup to your lips, taking a sip before lowering it to your lap again. He appreciated your silence in this moment, for he really didn't wish to answer questions on why he was up so late. He also didn't bother asking those same questions of you.

As the night went on, you began helping him with his puzzle. At first, so you didn't intrude, you simply hummed and pointed out a couple pieces with hardly a mumble of "I think those go together." Now, past midnight and cups empty, you both silently worked together to fit pieces together and arrange them into the larger picture. It was almost 3am when, at last, the image was complete.

Loki was still sat on the couch while you had decided to sit on the floor and save your back the future ache. His eyes traced over the snouts of the creatures; their wide, watery eyes and light brown coats.

"What are these?" he asked finally. His words were slightly slurred together with the need for sleep. Now that he had completed the task set before him, his mind was at ease. He was much too tired to think of anything bad. All he could truly think about was your company.

You hummed, breathing deeply as you rubbed your eyes. You were in the same boat as him. Now that your mind wasn't focused on completing the image, it was ready to shut down. "They're called puppies," you muttered.

"Yes," he said, recalling Thor's name for them and becoming slightly irritated that his brain and his mouth had some disconnect where he couldn't put forth the proper question up front, and so now had to ask a secondary question to get the answer he really wanted, "but what kind of puppies? I've seen loads of these creatures all around New York and Midgardian media - there must be a name for the varieties."

You nodded. He watched and waited, patient, as you pulled yourself onto the couch to sit beside him. "Those are golden retrievers," you explained. "They're very popular, very friendly."

He hummed. His eyes no longer traced the puzzle. Rather, he studied the way your eyelids fluttered closed and open repeatedly, struggling more and more to keep opening. The way your shoulders sagged and your body was ready to collapse underneath you. You were so exhausted. The sight almost made him smile.

Almost.

He hoisted himself up, feet complaining and back screaming at him to lay back down. His mind yelled back, once again focused on the task of getting you to your room for some much needed sleep.

His hand gently grabbed your wrist, lightly tugging to coax you up. But, you barely budged. He sighed, but relented to the easiest solution to the issue. With one arm slipping under your knees and the other behind your back, it didn't take him much effort to pick you up. You were leaning into him instantly, curled up and eyes no longer fighting to stay open. He did his best not to stumble or jostle you in his tired state, and FRIDAY kindly opened your room door for him.

He didn't allow himself to look around. Even his sleep-addled mind knew it would be rude. He was already barging in here without your permission just to put you to bed when he very well could have just draped a blanket over you on the couch. He cursed his mind for not taking the time to think of all the options laid before him first.

He laid you down carefully, pulled the blanket up to your neck and made sure you were well covered on all sides so no drafts got in, and kept his head down as he left so he didn't see anything you didn't wish him to. He closed the door behind himself, but FRIDAY locked it.

Loki didn't bother to clean up the cups in the living room, or tear apart the puzzle and dump the pieces back into the box. Instead, he went a few doors down and plopped himself right into bed.

If, in the morning, Stark got upset with him for leaving a mess, then who was he to complain?

You say you just want peace and you'd never hurt anyone

You see the end before the beginning has ever begun

Tony was throwing another one of his infamous parties. It was always blaring music, flashing lights and screaming strangers. Loki, of course, wasn't invited. He truly didn't wish to be. But he did wish there were an escape for him aside from his bedroom, as the walls were too thin to ignore anything that was going on outside of them.

He'd tried reading, using headphones to listen to something, practicing what little magic he could use - but all of it was disrupted by shouts of drunken joy or the never ending bass of the music. He was getting a headache, and more frustrated by the second.

He didn't hear the knock on his door through the noise. FRIDAY had to tell him someone had even knocked, and if he were being truly honest, he wouldn't have answered if the AI hadn't said that it was you who knocked.

He wasn't sure if it was your plan all along or the pained grimace he made when opening the door let in more noise, but you grabbed his arm and dragged him out into the party. He was going to rip his arm out of your grip, yell at you over the music for making his problems worse - something, anything - to get out of this horde of drunks and noise. The only reason he didn't was because by the time he went to, you were dragging him out of a side door and into the cool air of the evening.

God, he finally felt like he could breathe.

The building was still booming with activity behind him, but even the sound out here was far more dulled down than the noise had been in his room. When he finally snapped into reality, you were walking away, casual and leisurely.

Loki did contemplate how easy it would be to disappear, to run away and perhaps live far away from this life. He could live in the woods, perhaps own one of the Midgardian cats he'd seen that he quite liked the demeanor of. Or maybe he could find a way to disappear to Norway, to the old realm where the peoples used to revere him as a true God - the final resting place of his father.

He sighed.

No. He couldn't. It would never be so easy, and the consequences for being caught were simply too high. So, he took long strides to catch up to you, slowing down once he reached your side, and simply allowed himself to enjoy this little freedom.

"Thank you," he said, after a while. "I was losing my mind in there."

You chuckled, but shrugged. "Tony's parties get really out of hand. I figured since I was already on my way to 'escaping', I might as well take you with me."

"You don't like parties?"

"I don't like those parties." You led him to a building he had never been to before, holding open the door for him with a gesture for him to go inside. "Stark gets out of hand way too quickly, and I'd rather not be around a bunch of drunk strangers trying to hit on me because I'm an Avenger."

You led him into an elevator, ignoring the two sets of stairs on either side of the contraption. You quietly pressed a button and waited for it to reach the floor desired. He didn't, in all honesty, expect it to be the roof of the building. He also didn't expect there to be a blanket laid out on the plain-colored concrete.

While you walked on ahead and kicked off your shoes before you sat down and then laid back, facing the stars that littered the sky, he paused outside of the elevator, a small frown of thought pulling at his lips. As though you knew he'd ask, you answered the unspoken question.

"I come out here when Tony has his parties, or when I'm sad, or when I just need a break. I like looking at the stars."

You patted the spot next to you when he didn't move, and he soon found himself, sans shoes, laying beside you.

The stars glittered and sparkled, bright and wondrous. They hadn't looked like this when he'd been forced to stay in the city with the Avengers. He supposed he enjoyed this countryside compound far more, for many more reasons than just the stars, but it was certainly added onto his list.

Your arm entered his vision of the sky, and he followed your finger as best as he could as you pointed out constellations. You had to further explain to him what they were, and their significance. You also explained horoscopes, though he made a note to take anything he read of those with a grain of salt.

"We have some version of constellations on Asgard," he told you after a bout of silence. His eyes traced the invisible lines of the Big Dipper, Orion's Belt, Scorpio, and more. He didn't recognize any of them, nor did he see any that he would know from Asgard. "Growing up... my mother used to tell us stories from the stars - legends written within the cosmos to memorialize great feats. Only, we didn't connect the stars together to form images."

"No?"

He hummed, shaking his head slightly. This was the first time you'd heard him speak so openly about his mother. "In Asgard, we can see nebulae, as far as the eye can see. Blue, orange, purple, pink - all vibrant and swirling around like watercolor. In tales, we were told it was the blood spilt by warriors, or great beasts felled in the Heavens. The great orange nebula was a dragon, felled by some magnificent warrior, but whose death was so terrible, the Gods turned it into something beautiful, to remind people of what was accomplished, and what was lost."

"Wow." You awed in silent wonder, trying to picture your sky with dozens of nebulas and stories such as that. It was too much to imagine, too hard to picture. You hoped you would get to see it one day.

I would disturb your easy tranquility

I'd turn away the sad impossibility of your smile

Once again, Loki found himself sitting by the windows. The book in hand was from Midgard, though, one he'd read before. He was already out of new books to read. Though his book was filled top to bottom with literature, he had nothing better to do in this prison than read. He wasn't sure how many times he had already reread this one.

The words started blending together, becoming muddled in his mind, just in time for you to sit down across from him. Though, you had a book of your own.

This was new in your routine. You usually only sat down to bug him with a few questions until he got irritated, and then you left. His mind wandered to the last time you had done just that.

"What are you reading?" you asked as per usual.

He glanced down once more at the worn cover of his book. "Romeo and Juliet."

You smiled kindly, getting settled into your spot on the floor. "That's a classic."

He hummed, then nodded down to your book. "What are you reading?"

You held up your book to show him. He didn't recognize the title, or the image on the front. He said just as much as you lowered it back to your lap. "It's really good!"

"You've already read it, then?" He sighed. "It seems we're both out of fresh literature then."

"And what's wrong with rereading stuff?"

"I've reread this five times while living here. It's easy to grow rather tired of the same story over and over again."

You were quiet for a moment, and he wished he was still allowed his magic so he could glimpse into your mind, get a taste of your thoughts. He couldn't understand what could possibly be running around inside your head as you glanced around the living room, then down to your book, patting the cover and messing with the corner, before you stood up and told him to come with you.

Whatever thoughts that had roamed your mind then had led him here: standing within a bookshop. The nearest bookshop to the compound in fact. You promised Tony you wouldn't go far with Loki outside, and you borrowed a car and drove off toward the nearest town. You hadn't exactly lied to the Iron Man about your plans, but you certainly stretched the truth.

"You can roam around," you told him, smiling gently. Your face held trust, and his heart swelled at the sight of the emotion. How long had it been since he'd last been granted trust? "Pick out a few books."

"What about, erm, currency?" He didn't exactly have any money. Loki couldn't say he knew how much money you made or carried with you usually, but he knew that things on Midgard could be quite expensive, unnecessarily so.

You smirked, holding up a little plastic card. "It's all on Tony. I'm sure a billionaire like him won't notice."

His face lit up, a smirk of his own taking shape. It felt familiar, yet out of place. When was the last time he smiled? "You are wicked, darling," he teased.

Loki was content to roam the aisles of books for hours. He would have stayed for days if allowed. He found two books that really peaked his interest.

The first was a book on stars - constellations, types of stars, horoscopes, everything they could cram between two covers. He had spent a long time within the Science aisle browsing until he found it.

The second was the book you had shown him earlier. The image was different, but he recognized the title and the author. He'd thumbed through a few pages, reading the description on the inner cover and a few chapter titles, and he tucked it safely under his arm with the other one.

His search for you through the aisles was rather fruitless. There were toys and knickknacks that caught his eye, which he looked at with interest for a while. He wondered what they were from. He eventually did find you in a cafe toward the front of the store, sitting with two disposable cups and a small stack of your own books. He sat across from you, eyeing his cup uncertainly.

"It's Earl Grey," you hummed, taking another sip of your drink. "It's a black tea. Also on Tony."

His lips quirked at the reminder that the annoying playboy was paying for all of this. He set his books down and took a hesitant sip of his drink. It was very different from the chamomile, but he enjoyed it, too.

"You could have just borrowed my book, Loki," you chuckled as you looked over his selections. He didn't miss the way you smiled as you saw his astronomy book, sliding it around on the table to look at its spine and cover. You then pushed your books toward him, presenting your new reads' covers. "I'm getting a couple some friends suggested. You're more than welcome to borrow them, too."

He grinned, taking another sip from his cup to hide it. "I appreciate the offer."

I'd sit there in the sun of the things I like about you

I'd sing my songs and find out just what they mean to you

Loki enjoyed your presence now as he read by the windows. You no longer simply asked questions to irritate him. Instead, you would both simply sit together and read. Occasionally, you would make tea - something new or familiar. It was comfortable.

More than once, Tony asked if you wanted him to put a bench there, a couch - something more comfortable than the cold tile floor. But you just shook your head, told him no, and sat down with Loki in the natural light.

Sometimes you would bring him out to look at the stars. He would tell you what he had learned, what he wondered still. Then he would tell you of how he had learned vague outlines of this knowledge from Asgard, teaching you of Yggdrasil, the World Tree, and of magic. Outside under the stars was the one time he felt truly free, even if he would have to go back inside to his little prison before sunrise.

You also showed him your room for the first time. He admitted to you that he had been in here once before to put you to bed after the puzzle, but that he hadn't looked at anything. Although you playfully teased him, you thanked him and let him look around now. He had spent a long while just looking at your belongings and asking about them, wondering silently what importance they held for you if he didn't ask.

He later allowed you to see his room. Although it wasn't much, just books, you'd spent just as much time looking at his belongings as he did yours. You asked about books from Asgard, how he liked Midgardian books, if there was a certain genre he liked best, if there was a certain writing style he enjoyed, as well as many, many more. He no longer felt so insecure about having so little in his living space.

But most of all I'd like you to be unaware

And I'd just wander away

Trailing palm leaves behind me

So you don't even know that I've been there

The nightmares came less and less, but some nights were still bad. Loki could wake up and still remember vividly the torture he faced in his subconscious. Sometimes he would check himself over in the mirror to really make sure nothing had happened.

Some nights he would only be able to lay there, hot tears mixing with cold sweat, as he reassured himself that it was over, that it wasn't real, that he was awake.

Tonight was one of those nights.

He was gasping and shuddering when he awoke, eyes open like a shot and staring at the ceiling even as tears blurred his vision. He could feel burns on his arms, on his back, on his chest. He could feel his Jotunn form appearing, compensating for the pain. Once his mind was fully aware of being awake, it forgot the pain of his past, and his skin became pale once more.

Sitting up hurt. His back ached, his muscles were tense. But he didn't want to continue laying there, helpless. His hands unconsciously moved up and down his arms to make sure his skin was free of injury, before the palms of his hands dug into his eyes to fight away the tears.

When he had these awful nightmares, there was really only one place to go.

He had triple checked himself in the mirror to make sure he really wasn't injured, and to make sure he wasn't blue, before he finally left his room. Silent feet padded their way a few doors down. His mind fought against itself, his body frozen as he argued whether or not he should bother you so late at night.

Eventually, he sighed and quietly pushed open the door. You were sleeping soundly. Just seeing you okay was enough to ease his shoulders back, the tension in his mind dissipating by the second. However, something on your nightstand caught his attention in the darkness.

He made sure not to make any noise as he moved to your bedside, sitting carefully on the edge and watching to make sure he didn't disturb you. On your stand rested a mug, filled carefully with some liquid, though in the dark he couldn't quite tell what it was. He picked it up, fingers finding a slip of paper just underneath it. He held it to the moonlight to read what it said.

Loki

Some fresh chamomile just in case. I hope it's not too cold by the time you find it.

Your name was signed at the bottom.

Loki smiled as he read the paper over and over again, his heart warming at the care you put into thinking of him. He was almost reluctant to set it down on the nightstand again so he could cup the mug with both hands. A light green glow came from his palms as he heated up the tea, the light disappearing as soon as the herbal smell of chamomile filled his senses.

He took a careful sip, and closed his eyes. He was surrounded by the comfort of knowing someone trusted and cared for him, and he felt at peace.

#loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #fluff

[plush-rabbit]

The Brothers + Diavolo Making You Flustered

Request: Hi!hi! The aphrodisiac writing was absolutely *chefs kiss*. I have this habit of when I get embarrassed/flustered I immediately bury my face into the surface in front of me. Like if I’m sitting on the floor I’ll lean over and bury my face on the carpet, sitting at a table I’ll lean over and plant my face on the surface etc. How do you think the brothers (+diavolo if that’s okay) would react to seeing MC do that for the first time when they make them flustered? You’re so talented by the way! ily!

Word Count: 1K each

A/N: I hope you like this!! It was a bit difficult since i didn't want to make everything the same, but yeah!!

-

Lucifer:

His sleeves are rolled up, flour coating the tips of his fingers and dusting across his apron, and the smell of garlic and onion fills the room. It smells lovely, it smells like a home. You stand beside Lucifer, watching as the water boils, bubbles fizzling out and steam rising. A box of noodles is held in your hands, your eyes peering over to where the bread is held in his hands. Your tongue peeks between your lips- it’s a soft pink, tinged with blue from candy and for a moment, he forgets himself, wanting to taste the candy that rests on your tongue, wishing that he were your lips to feel the gentle caress of your tongue.

“Remind me what we’re making again?” You ask, sniffing at the pot, only to scrunch your nose at the scent. “And why it’s us making it?”

“A Devildom dish,” he responds, giving a side glance. “It’s similar enough to a human cousine, so you needn’t worry about it being anything unsavory.” He turns to you, his smile almost teasing. “And we’re making it because it’s our turn on cooking duty.”

“If you wanted to spend time with me, you could always ask.” While your words are true, he tries to hold his composure, not wanting to reveal that you had hit the nail on its head. “You don’t have to assign us both to cooking duty. It’s pretty sneaky for you, dear Lucifer.” Your hand pats at his back and he promptly turns away from you

Walking away from you, he starts the timer on the oven, the preheat button lights up as the oven begins to glow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I drew our names on a complete random.” He turns to you, his smile making you unable to see what he’s really thinking. “Do you not wish to spend time with me?” he asks cooly, walking towards you. Despite the flour on his hands that dusts over his face, and the apron wrapped around him, he still holds an aura of confidence and authority that makes you break away from his gaze first.

“You’re absolutely awful,” you mutter, giving him a grin to let him know that it was a playful insult.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he coos, his grin wicked and cool at the same time. “I must not be totally awful if you still wish to spend time with me.” You groan, shaking your head with a smile on your lips and he turns to hide his more giddy smile, smiling calmly when the oven beeps. The preheat session is done. He opens the oven, a wave of hot air making him knit his brows together for a moment. “There’s no need to be ashamed of being so fond of me. I am Pride, it’s only natural that you would gravitate towards me.” He grabs the rack of bread, carefully slipping it inside the oven and closing the door.

“Well you’re a lot more than Pride to me.” His eyes widen and he turns to you, his body facing towards the oven with his head half-turned. “You’re Lucifer. You’re someone close to me and well, I actually am glad that we got to spend time together. I would love to hear you admit that you simply wanted to spend time with me, but-” you shrug- “you’ve got that stubborn pride that I can’t help but adore.” You turn to him, a cheeky smile on your face that matches the light in your eyes.

It’s silent between the two of you. It’s comforting, one that is welcomed and isn’t making either of you awkward. He watches as you carefully stir the pot, your index skimming under the words of the cookbook. Your brows furrow as you carefully read over the direction, careful to not add the wrong ingredient or wrong measurement. You’re methodical, carefully going about everything, and in the kitchen with Lucifer, he can’t help but smile at you, his smile soft and eyes crinkled as he watches you carefully.

“I know I haven’t told you this enough- or perhaps before-” silverware clinks together as he reaches over from a baking brush, his eyes never leaving yours- “but I’m actually quite proud of you.” He tears his gaze away from you, his smile widening and his chest puffing. “You have this knack about you that makes it so easy for others to fall for you, that I have to admit that even I have fallen victim to you.” The baguettes are painted over with a mixture of garlic and spices, his words never stopping or falling to hesitation as he speaks. “You’re-” he sighs, not knowing how to put what he wants to say into words- “I’ve been Lucifer for such a long time, living and holding power, but I must say, when I’m around you, I feel more me than I ever had in my entire existence.” He turns his body to you, his hands open and knuckles brushing over your cheek, a thin line of white left against your face. “I’m glad that I’ve gotten to meet you.”

His eyes widen, his words finally registering to his ears. He looks up, eyes meeting the stone wall before he turns to you, his mouth agape and hands still holding a baguette, and the baking brush. The garlic and onion sizzle on the stove, the yellow glow of the kitchen and the buzzing sounds of the outside do everything to fill the room, not a single ounce of silence is graced to either of you.

“You can’t just say stuff like that!” You say in a hurried tone, your face hot enough that you can feel sweat start to bead. “It’s- It’s-” you can’t find the proper words, it isn’t embarrassing but it isn’t something that you hear everyday- “Ah!” You decided, burying your face further into the table, your hands cushioning the blow.

His hand claps over your back, slowly rubbing between your shoulder blades in an attempt to soothe you over. “I would have thought you would have enjoyed hearing the truth,” he teases lightly. “Was I wrong about that assumption?” he presses, his elbow nudging against your shoulder where you still lay with your head rested in your hands.

You peer upwards, your face slowly revealed to show a flushed color that makes his chest puff with pride, his smile . “You wanna know why I know that you wanted to spend time with me?” Lucifer raises his brows in confusion. “I hadn’t written down my name yet.” His smile twitches away for a moment. “You called it before I could even write my name down.” You smile at him, your smile gentle. “I still have the paper in my pocket. You really like me, huh Lucifer?”

Mammon:

Textbooks are left open, pencils and pens sprawled over the coffee table as you and Mammon rest on the couch. He talks vividly, and as he’s excited to tell you stories of his past, his mouth works faster, skipping over details and returning to them moments later. Your hands are wrapped tight around his bicep, your face hidden as you try to stifle your laughter. He can feel your hands tighten, the way that you cling to him and even try to push yourself closer to him. “So that was when I decided to just grab all the things I could carry and just book it!” Mammon exclaims, clapping his hands together and extending his right arm forward. “You should’ve seen how angry those witches were, but hell, they deserved it for thinking they could pull one over on me.” He turns to you, his grin wicked, slowly widening as he leans back cautiously to not let you move away from him. “Fuckers should’ve known to not touch my stuff.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head and leaning onto him. His smile twitches for a second, softening into a gentler smile, watching as you turn your face into his arm, trying to stifle your laughter. It’s loud, infectious and it’s something that reminds him of a spring day that he once spent in the Human Realm. He isn’t sure how to explain it- something about it that screams life and youth, something that sounds so unapologetically like you, that it makes him breathless. When you start to pull away, he lets his grin widen, eager to look at you again.

He’s so close to you, your hand within arm’s reach that if he really wanted to, he could just take it in his. His mouth goes dry, his tongue too invasive in his own mouth and he watches as you adjust your hair, his eyes fixated on how your hair slips through your fingers. There are words stuck in his throat, but no matter what he thinks of to say, he isn’t sure what he should say. He’s at a loss, wondering what would be the perfect way to bring back the mood, to continue the conversation without it being forced, but in all honesty, he’s fine, just sitting here with you. He’s more than fine with just staring at you.

“Hey, Mammon?” He jolts at his name being said, a shock running through his spine. He nods his head, swallowing what little saliva is in his mouth. “I really like hearing your stories, you know?” You smile softly at the book in your hands. He watches you with unblinking eyes, wondering what it is that you’re getting at. “I really just like listening to your voice. I know you were stuck with me at first-” internally he flinches, he doesn’t like to reminisce when you were first put under his charge- “but I’m glad that it was you.” He is left breathless, his muscles tense as you look at him, a smile stretching past your lips and gracing your lips. You look at him for a moment, your eyes darting to where his hand is clenched tightly and you nod to yourself, turning your attention back to the book.

You’re facing away from him, your fingertips tracing over the edge of a page as you try to focus on the words but he can tell from the pout on your lips that you aren’t registering anything from the book. What should he say? What can he say? He knows he has to say something. He knows that he should match your energy or at least attempt to but he can’t. There are so many things he wants to tell you, and they all seem so disorganized. You’re pretty. You’re nice to him and you always let him sneak into your bedroom late at night. You rely on him and as much as you need him, he needs you more. You have such a soft touch that it leaves him tingling all over as if some ghost were the one responsible for it. He lets out a slow breath, his lips parted slightly as he breathes out. “You know,” he says quietly, his fingers twitching and moving to clutch at the end of your shirt, “you got a real nice laugh. It’s nice to spend time with you, ya know?” Once he’s started talking, he’s unable to quiet himself, unable to register the things that he’s saying to you. “I like hanging out with other demons and all, but there’s something about you that I like more. It’s like with you-” his hand waves in the air, eyes glancing around your room- “I get to just feel safe. I get to relax and know that I can count on you. And I want you to know that no matter what, I’ll always be on your side. Forever and ever.” Mammon turns his head, his smile stretched wide and hand going to cover yours. “You turned me into a sap, ya know?’”

The moment is tender as he smiles down at you, only to slowly realize the weight of his words as you stop in your movements, your fingers letting the page fall back to the others, words lost upon themselves as your shoulders rise. His eyes widen and his lips thin. Heat creeps upwards from his chest and scorches its way to mar his features, his face turning into a darker shade as he flushes. His mouth goes dry, unable to produce any type of saliva as he sits beside you. Slowly, his mouth parts, and he’s unable to find the words to deny what he just said, but before he can, you curl in on yourself, burying your way into your hands, your hands spread and fingers parting to cover as much of your face as it can.

“I-” he coughs loudly into the rook of his elbow. You can tell that he wants to resort to his usual denial of feelings but he stops himself before he can even reach the middle of his sentence. “Listen, just because you-” you can feel his eyes on you- “will ya look up at me? I’m not gonna tear your head off or anything, I just don’t want you getting a bigger head than you already have.” You slowly turn to him, watching as he tries to avoid your gaze. “Let’s just go get a bite to eat. We can’t study on empty stomachs or whatever.” He rises quickly, his hand held out to you as he keeps his attention out on the door. “Come on, I’ll pay for ya and everything.”

Your lips thin and you look at his hand. You inhale a sharp breath of air, slowly letting it go. His face is still flushed, a deep color that burns against his skin. “Like a date?” You ask, hoping to see more of his reactions. He stiffens at your question, his brows furrowing to meet each other. He stammers out a response, clearly flustered. You lay your hand on his and he immediately quiets down. You smile at yourself, your heart skipping a beat as you realize that it was you who brought him to such a state. Slowly, his hand curls with yours and he gives a brief nod of his head.

Leviathan:

Leviathan sits alone in his room, a blanket pooled around his lower half, his eyes have begun to burn, tinged with red from lack of sleep as bright colors flash across his pale face. An empty bowl save for kernels that rest at the bottom of the bowl, his fingertips tinged with red and he can feel his mouth heavy with acid and past snacks.

His hands tap against his controller, his fingers already reaching toward a button before he can even register what he should press. His mind is on autopilot, reaching and stiffening when an enemy nears and even so, his character is still killed. He lets out a frustrated groan, careful to throw his controller towards his pillows and not the walls- he can’t risk losing yet another controller; least of all having to patch a hole- or in his case, covering it with a poster. His hands are thrown into the air, fingers outstretched before they are curled into a fist. He arches his back forward, the heels of his hands cushioning his eyes. He tears up slightly, wincing at the sudden realization of burning pain that lingers in his eyes. Slowly, he pulls away just in time to hear his door creak open.

“Password,” he says with a lack of conviction, turning slightly to watch as you enter with a bag in your hand. He raises his brows, his arm stretching outward as he blindly searches for his controller. “What do you have there?” He jerks his chin, returning his attention to the game in front of him.

The light clicks on- something bright that fills the room in a soft blue that stretches around him. He winces at the sudden light, the controller dropped onto his lap as he rubs his eyes vigorously. If it weren’t obvious enough that he kept himself secluded in his room, it was obvious from the way that he rubbed at his eyes, and had to blink multiple times before he could finally look at you without shielding his eyes. You end him a wicked smile that slowly grows until you reveal your teeth, the bag in your hand held slightly tighter. In response, he sticks his tongue out at you, his cheeks tinted with a pale shade of pink.

“I’m surprised it’s taken you so long to defeat the boss,” you say, walking towards the bathtub where he sits. You sit in front of the porcelain, your gaze fixated on a television system that he has set up for a more immersive gameplay experience. When you are met with a lack of response, you turn your head to see him with narrowed eyes. “What? No witty remark?” Once more, you’re met with silence. “Levi?”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “I- Fuck, you know?” This time, he’s met with silence. “First, I can’t get the concert tickets, then I can’t even get the new figure and now, I can’t even defeat this stupid game.” His cheeks fill with air, and he slowly lets the breath go past his lips. “And the concert was going to have passes to meet them behind the stage and the figure was signed and-” his character dies once more and the controller is tossed pitifully onto the pillow. He leans over the tub, his arms crossed under his chin, and his eyes on you. “My luck isn’t usually so bad, you know?”

You pat the floor beside you, your hand meeting the cold tile. “Come on, sit beside me,” you comment, shuffling over a few inches to give him even more space. With a huff, he rises out of the tub, small bits of crumbs falling onto the porcelain. He sits beside you, his arm brushing against yours but neither of you make an effort to move.

“I’m sitting, now what?” He asks, the television blurry as it replays his death with the words “Game Over” in bold letters.

“Well, Levi-” you hand him the bag, with fingers pinched over the handles- “since you’re having such rotten luck, why don’t you open the bag?”

He gives you a narrowed stare, slowly retrieving the bag from you and pulling out the pastel colored tissue paper. At the bottom of the bag sits a box, the words of a favorite anime of his stamped beside with the usual font. His heart skips a beat, as he slowly clasps his hand around the box, his fingers pushing against the plastic and he gaps, reality crashing onto him like a wave.

“It’s-” he doesn’t even finish saying the sentence, your nod is an answer to everything. “The figure that I wanted- I- How?” He asks, looking at the box, so worried that if he were to take his eyes away, the box would vanish.

“Ah, ah-” you wag your finger in the air- “that is a story for another time, my dear Leviathan.” You sound so smug and a smile is already evident in your words.

He bounces in his seat, his legs shaking rapidly, knees softly knocking against each other as he lets his excitement show. His hands flap eagerly, his smile wide and eyes closed. A sharp breath is sucked between his teeth, as he stares at you with bright eyes. You’re startled, your shoulders raising a few centimeters into the air with wide eyes as you stare at him. A nervous smile stretches across your face with him so close to you and looking at you with such eager eyes. If you were to be honest with yourself, you’re a bit flustered with how he looks at you. Your heart races and it beats against your chest, rattling at your ribs and echoing against your body. You nod rapidly, gulping what little moisture you have in your mouth when he grabs your hands tightly in him.

He shouts your name, enthusiasm laced into his word, his hands pulling yours close to his chest. “Ah! You’re the absolute best!” His smile is so wide that it’s almost comical, leaving you smiling both in response to and because of him. “I’m so glad that you’re here! Of course, you’d be my Henry!” He drops your hands and pulls you in for a hug, squeezing tightly around you, his head nuzzled into the curve of your neck. “I don’t know what I would do without you, but I’m just glad that you’re the one that’s with me!” He pulls away, his hands now holding onto your biceps. Deep breaths exhale through him, his chest rising and dipping rhythmically. He calls your name and it’s sweet like honey on his tongue. “You really are the best. I mean,” his tone becomes softer, his smile less eager and more true, “you do so much for me. I couldn't ever imagine my life without you. You mean so much to me.”

“Levi,” you mumble, and when his hands fall from you and return to hold the box, you pull the bag towards your face, hiding away from him. Your neck grows hot, scorching your skin and making you breathless. “I’m glad that you like it,” you manage to squeak out, the bag further pressed towards you.

A few seconds pass until he finally realizes why you’ve pulled the bag to your face. Leviathan stiffens, clearing his throat and turning away, his hand covering his lower half of the face. The figurine sits beside him with a delicate smile plastered on their face. With the air so light and heavy, he reached into the tub, eager to pull out the controller. With a meek cough, he fumbles with the controller, passing it over to you, with his eyes still glued on the figurine. “Would you like a turn? Maybe you’re better than me.” He can feel his chest tighten when his fingertips brush against yours and the hundredth time, the game tune plays in the room.

Satan:

Satan’s eyes narrow unconsciously as he reads over the same page for the tenth time. No matter what, he is unable to focus on the words, the letters and lines meshing into one that nothing fully registers past the first word of the page. If he were to be honest with himself, nothing has registered since the last few pages that he’s read. With a huff, he closes the book, a small gust of air blowing at the hair that rests over his forehead. The book rests on the table beside him, nudging against the lamp that makes the room flicker for a brief moment.

The room is filled with sound, the hum of the air conditioner unit, the distant sounds of footsteps and talk across the house, the demonic animals that roam around outside. He’s sure that if he were to focus, he’d even hear the scratching of a pen. Scratch that- he can now that he thought about it. All the sounds make his skin crawl, uncomfortable and itchy and as he drags his nails across his arm, he’s only offered a second of relief before the feeling returns. He leans against the chair, his neck arched over the back of it, as he lets his eyes flutter to a close, the bright light of the library barely shining through his closed eyelids. It’s not like to be so distracted- especially when it comes to a favorite pastime of his. And yet, his mind is distracted, wandering to images of you where you were talking to others that weren’t him. He isn’t the jealous type- at least, not when he compares himself to his brother, but it seems that you brought out something different for him.

His leg twitches and there’s a burning sensation on his arm that he chooses to ignore. It only intensifies when he hears footsteps approaching. The sensation spreads and becomes sharper, insatiable as it burrows itself in the demon. There is a presence standing beside him and he already knows that it’s you. He can tell by the steps, by the breathing, by your scent. He frowns at the thought. He doesn’t know if it’s romantic or not to know such small details about you.

Something clicks- your knee, perhaps- and your hand rests above his slender one, cupping and still, there are gaps where his skin is unfortunate enough to not to be touched by you. “Satan?” You call out to him in a quiet voice- not quite a whisper but not your usual volume either. “Are you asleep?”

“Is it you wondering or someone else?” He responds, slowly opening his eyes and turning his head, meeting the top of yours. “Is there something that you need?” He makes no effort to move, stuck in his position as he is content just sitting on a chair with your hand over his.

“It’s me,” you answer him, turning your head to meet his eyes. His lips slowly turn into a smile with his eyes slowly growing heavy. “You don’t normally sleep in the library without cause. You okay?” Your hand slips from his and his eyes widen his hand closing into a fist, already missing your touch. But, he is soon reconnected with your hand as it rests on his forehead. You soon look down at him with pursed lips. “I- uh, I can’t tell if you have a fever or not.”

He smiles at you and sits up straight, holding in a moan when his back is already sore, feeling the muscles whine as they had already grown taut. “No- No I just, I have quite a few things on my mind, is all.” He gingerly goes to grab your hand in his, uncaring that your eyes are on him and that the door is open for anyone to walk in and see Wrath so tender. “I’m sorry that I worried you.”

Your hand in his is turned, pulled slightly away but not enough to be taken away from his grasp. You walk from the side of the chair to stand in front of him, and when you meet his eyes, you nod down, gesturing to his lap. He smiles softly, nodding his head and leaning back, humming under his breath when you situate yourself on his lap, your head resting on his shoulder.

“You’re oddly touchy today,” he comments, his hand curved on your lap as the one he held is moved to behind his neck, your fingertips barely touching his collarbone. “Did I do something to deserve this?”

You give a half-hearted hum, and in the corner of his eye, he can tell that you have closed your eyes. “Think of it as a way to make you feel better.” You give him a play tap and he nods, his eyes staring straight ahead, lost against the colorful spines of the books. “So what does have you so worked up?”

Is now his chance? Is he now able to tell you the full extent of his feelings? He has you sitting on his lap, comforting him in a way that few people would ever dare to. There's feelings there, bubbling and forming on both ends and he knows that it’s both ends. It’s you that is on his mind. Filtering in when you shouldn’t, invading every space of his that he has until he’s completely overwhelmed. It’s a strong feeling, something that rivals his own wrath and for the first time, he welcomes it- he doesn’t put up a fight against it. He wants to feel whatever it is that you make him feel. He wants the intensity of it until he’s exhausted, until the wrath that has been boiling inside of him ever since he can remember, can finally evaporate, can finally be extinguished.

You call his name once more and he looks at you, his smile tight and eyes closed for a moment. “How do I tell you that I care for you in a way that says exactly what I’m trying to say without scaring you off?” His eyes close and his hand turns over on your thigh, palm open and empty. “How do I tell you that you’re the thing on my mind? That it’s you that is reducing me into a mess at the simple thought of you.” He turns his head enough, shrugging his shoulder to make sure that you’re looking back at him, your chest still and the hand that you had relaxed, is slowly crawling over to his open one. “The thought of you warps into this- this jealous demon that isn’t exactly something I’m fond of. I you to myself and yet, that I want you to myself and that the thought of you with anyone else, makes me more of wrath than I have ever been.” Your hand closes above his and he nods slowly, clasping his hand over yours. “It’s you, and it’ll always be you.”

With a jolt, his words finally register to him. He turns to face you, but you’re buried into his shoulder, your hand holding tightly onto his, as if he were your lifeline and the one over his shoulder is grasping at his sweater, bunching the knit fabric into a mess. Your heart beats over the sound of the room, the hum of the electricity erased, the steps and chatter muffled under you. He smiles softly, a slow chuckle taking over, until he’s laughing widely, his chest shaking and vibrating under you with every laugh. You moan his name and he can only say the first letters of an apology before his laughter takes over.

“Really, really- I’m not laughing at you,” he says through an attempt at laughter. “I just forgot how different you are. How you always seem to change depending on your mood.” He feels a harsh pat against him, your head shaking as you press further into him. “Please, never change,” he says with a laugh at the end, his head turning, his lips meeting against the side of yours in a quick press.

Asmodeus:

He’s flawless. He has to be. Or, maybe he’s just naturally like that. You are not the best when it comes to reading Asmodeus- too enthralled by him that you can’t seemingly tell when he’s told a joke or not that pertains to his beauty. Very little of it matters to you- you may appreciate that he is quite gorgeous, but you’ve also gotten to know the demon that embodies Lust.

Perhaps it’s because he knows who he is, that he is Lust, that he has to appear the best at all times. He can never make a mistake or it’ll be all that’s talked about- he knows as well as anyone else how easily a reputation can be damaged. However, when he looks at you, he doesn’t have to worry about that. He still wants to look his best for you, but he knows that if he were to slip, you wouldn’t see him any differently than how others see him.

You sleep beside him, nestled under his covers, the blanket pulled a little bit past your lips. Your hair is askew, small strands that stick up or curl around your face. Slowly, he takes a slender finger and softens the hair back to you, smiling when you try to lean into his touch. Your eyes flutter open, and you turn before he can see you, yawning and stretching your arms upwards, the cover crumpling above you. You lie still for a few more seconds and he sits upwards, daring to peek at your face. As if already knowing that he was going to watch you, you run a hand through your hair in an attempt to make yourself look more refined, to fix your appearance before him. You rub your eyes with a knuckle, turning to him and opening your mouth only to have a yawn cut through.

“Did you have a good nap?” Asmodeus asks, watching as you stretch your limbs, your muscles pulled taut as you let out a whine of satisfaction. You nod in response to him. “I’m glad. You know, I do have to tell you that you were right. I try not to ruin my sleep schedule but that nap felt simply divine. I think I feel more rested than I usually do.”

You smile at him, turning over to rest your head on his chest. His hand immediately comes to curve over the back of your head. “I like sleeping with you. You have such a soft bed and you always give such nice hugs.” He laughs in response, his hand lowering to hold near your shoulder. “It’s true. Devildom is still-” you take a brief pause- “different. And somehow, when I’m with you, all my worries are just-” you blow out a gentle puff of air- “gone.”

“I’m here for whenever you need me. All you have to do is just call,” he comments, his hand running past the sleeve of your shirt, his index and middle fingers touching against your warm skin. “I think it’s almost time for dinner. Would you like to accompany me? I’d be more than happy to take you to that little restaurant we found the other day.”

The edge of your sleeve is toyed with, pinched between the fingers and released. His hand returns to where it lay only to be disturbed when you rise, causing his hand to rest beside him. You give him a blinding smile that makes his heart flutter as he looks at you. “I’d be more than happy to, but I would like to get ready before we go out.” He raises a brow at you, tilting his head to encourage you to continue. “I want to look my best for you.” You lean forward and he smiles, fully ready for a kiss, only to have you pull away and kiss his shoulder. He frowns, his lips pushing towards a pout as he looks at you.

“Not even a kiss?” He asks, a tease of playfulness loosely attached to his words. “I have to say that I’m hurt.” He watches as you move, curling your legs underneath you as you watch him with a hint of smile on your face. “After all that I do for you, and yet, you have the gall to deny me a simple kiss?” he lets out a huff, not trying to hide the smile that graces his features and you. “You should be ashamed of yourself. There are demons who would kiss my steps to even look at me.”

“Asmo,” you call to him and he quiets, looking at you with expectant eyes. Despite him being the demon who can be considered one of the strongest- and is- you’re still the one who holds all the power in the relationship. He nods, encouraging you to continue. “Why do you want to go out with me?”

He can’t help the smile that forms, that twists the already playful one into something more bitter. It’s a question that he asked himself the first time he realized his feelings towards you. He could have it all and you’re just a human with minimal magical abilities. He’s met countless lifeforms who were and are beautiful, their beauty forever imprinted and never seeming to age. But, he still chooses you. And he’s content with that. He’s more than happy that he’s with you.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, his eyes focused on your cupid’s bow. “You know, there are times when I look at you and I wonder if you see yourself the way that I see you.” He knows what to say, it all comes so natural to him when he compliments you. “Your scars and blemishes, the stretch marks around your tummy and how they pale and wrap around you. The little moles that you have are kissed along your sides and cheeks.” His thumb moves down and now his hand holds yours. “I have to be perfect- I have to be loved and admired, but then I see you and I think to myself how as long as I’m loved by you, that’s enough. You really have changed me in a way I never saw myself. Beauty means everything to me- or at least it did. But now I have you, and I have to admit, that I prefer you over anything else in the world.” He leans forward and lets his lips press against the corners of yours. “I want to go out with you, because to me, you’re the best that there will ever be.”

It all happens in a flash, seeing your face darken, feeling the hand slowly shake and then your face is hidden by the covers. He can hear you whine his name, and when his hand touches between your shoulder blades, his nimble fingers reaching above the collar of your shirt and touching your neck, he can feel how hot it is. He laughs as his arms reach around you and pull you close to him, giggling and accepting your odd human behavior.

Beelzebub:

Detention is quiet, save for the ticking of the clock, but other than that it’s silent. The room is occupied by a total of three people- you, Beelzebub, and the unfortunate professor that is stuck to watch over the two of you who scrolls through their D.D.D. while music plays loudly every now and then. You suspect they are on an app similar to one from the Human Realm, complete with word play and aesthetic from Devildom.

You turn over to Beelzebub, quirking your brows when you see him scribbling over a paper with a pen. You peer over, sitting straighter to get a closer look only to find him mindlessly doodling, similar drawings cover the paper in blue ink. As if feeling your stare, he turns to you with slightly wide eyes before relaxing them, sending you a smile and raising his paper, to show you his work. You return the smile, pleased at his cute antics and his boyish smile. You send him a thumbs up, before the professor coughs, catching the attention from the two of you.

They stand up, their tail curling around their leg and with a yawn, they expose their teeth. Their phone is stuffed into their pocket as they slowly walk to the front of the desk. “I’ll be back. I expect the two of you to still be here. You both have an hour left.” With that, they walk to the door, the heels of their shoes clicking, the door creaking before it finally closes leaving you and Beelzebub alone in a room.

Immediately, you turn to Beelzebub, your chair squeaking as you shift it hastily. “Beel,” you say excitedly, patting your hands on your thighs. He answers with a hum, tilting his head to the side to show that he is listening to you. “You have power over the professors, don't you?” You see the corner of his lip twitch upwards. “I mean you're the Avatar of Gluttony, can’t you just get us both out of here?”

The pen is set down and he leans back on his chair, his legs sliding underneath the desk until they are stretched to their full length. He turns to you, his smile lazy and eyes half-lidded. “I don’t feel like getting in trouble anymore than I already have.” His smile is crooked, teeth barely glimpsing from behind his lips.

“But we’re already in trouble,” you try to argue, pushing forward. “Please?” You lean forward, holding onto his bicep, with a pout on your lips. “If I use the pact powers, I’ll probably be the only one in trouble.”

He snickers, crossing his arms and lowering his head to side his smile. “We have an hour.” He looks up at you, a hand coming to cover yours. “Just sit and wait, okay? I’ll treat you out later.” You stick your tongue out at him and he laughs, pulling away from your touch and turning his own chair to face you, his hand resting over the desk, pulling on the tip of the pen until it is pulled underneath his hand. “What makes you want to go home so early anyways?”

“Why don’t you wanna go home?” You shoot back, your arm bent above the desk, with your chin resting on the palm of your hand. He shrugs in response, his attention back to the paper as he starts to bounce the pen between his index finger and thumb. “What are you drawing, anyways?” it doesn’t go unnoticed that he stiffens at your question, his lips pulling into a thin line as his leg starts to bounce. “It’s the same image, right? Like the same character that you’re drawing?” You lean closer, watching as he bounces the pen faster in his hand.

“It’s- It’s for art class,” he responds, clearing his throat. His hands grab at the paper and for a moment you think he’s about to crumble the paper, but instead he slips it between a notebook, careful to not let an edge slip out before it’s stuffed into his bag. “We have to draw-” he hesitates, squirming under your attention- “a thing.”

“I thought sports took care of your electives?” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, turning his attention to the board smeared with chalky remains. “Oh? Are you lying to me?” Your hand flutters to your heart, your voice faux hurt as your slump over in your seat. “Beelzebub, I’m actually hurt. Here I thought we were close and yet-”

“I’m drawing you,” he says, effectively making you stop in your theatrics. You turn to him, your mouth parted. “I wanted to draw you and give it to you as a gift but I can’t get your smile right.”

“Well that didn’t take much probing,” you mutter, scooting your chair closer to him, the toe of your shoe nudging against his backpack.

“I don’t like lying to you,” he states, his body becoming still and eyes returning to where you sit so close to him. Close enough where he can smell your cream. “I just didn’t want you to find out.”

There’s silence between the both of you, your lips pursed as you nod. “My smile?” He nods. “It should be simple, shouldn’t it?” Just a curve and some smaller curves for the lips and boom, you’re done.” You grab his backpack, holding it in your hands, the opening pointed towards him.

“No,” he says with a frown, pulling the same notebook out and slipping out the paper. Upon closer inspection, the images of what appears to be you are roughly scribbled. They aren’t the best but the thought of him drawing something for you and being nervous about you finding out makes the drawing much sweeter. “You have a nice smile. It’s like- like,” you look up at him to see his brows furrowed. “I don’t know how to explain it. Your smile is nice. It’s a lot more than nice. When you smile at me, it’s just nice. I like seeing you happy. You smiling at me makes me feel special and I don’t want to half-ass some drawing of you. I want to make it special because you’re special to me. Your smile makes me feel warm, like I’m being hugged and everytime you smile, it always reaches your eyes and when your eyes crinkle, it’s like you’re just looking at me and that makes me feel so-” he takes a deep sigh and releases it slowly- “so safe.” His words come to a soft close, his face a warm shade of red. He lets out a nervous chuckle. “That sounds dumb, doesn’t it?” When he looks at you, you’ve curled into a ball in your seat, your face buried into his backpack. He calls your name frantically, his hands on your shoulders, only to pull away when you let out a high-pitched whine. “Did I offend you?” His name is muffled between the fabric. “Yeah?”

“You’re really sweet,” you moan pitifully, clutching the bag tighter, hoping that it effectively hides your burning face. “I think I’ll actually die from what you just said.” Your heart beats in your chest, the sweet confession echoing in your ears and when you smile, you can only hide it, not wanting him to see the wide grin that is now plastered across your face. “I’ll take any drawing that you give me.” You hold your hand out, ready to receive the unfinished work, not yet lifting your head.

His hand covers your outstretched one. “Maybe if I can see your smile right now, I’d be able to get it right,” he teases slightly. Your only response is shaking your head, giggling through the fabric as you feebly try to shake his hand away. He laughs widely, holding your hand tighter as he urges for you to look upward at him.

Belphegor:

The room is quiet, no footsteps that echo from above, no noise that travels from the stairs into the room that was once Belphegor’s prison. Beside him, you lay curled on your side, resting against him, your hand playing with a drawstring of his hoodie, playing with the frayed ends at your fingertips.

“I thought being around you would make me sleepy,” you murmur, an ill-placed yawn ruining the validity of your statement.

Even where he lays, he knows that you’re pouting, with your brows knitted together. “It seems that I am already making you quite tired. You only lasted how long?” He’d make a show of checking his nonexistent watch, but he rather not, already too comfortable in his current position to risk moving. You blow a raspberry in response and he lets out a giggle, his hand that is placed underneath you is bent to hold a strand of your hair in between his fingers. “Come on, be nice now. I can also make you unbelievably tired but unable to sleep.”

“You’re so cruel Belphegor,” you say in a whisper, your hand finally still from playing with his drawstring. “You’d take away my sleep for a simple noise? How juvenile,” you tease, nuzzling further into his side, humming when his fingers part through your hair and scratch lightly at your scalp. “Here I am, whisked away from my homework to come and nap beside you. And what do I get in return? Teasing.” The last word slowly drifted off into a simple breath of air that was tickled against his side.

It really hadn’t taken you so long to fall under his own sleeping spell. A part of him is a bit bitter, wanting to spend more time with you where the both of you were conscious and could actually talk, while the other part of him, is simply glad that you’re resting beside him, that you’ve taken time out of your day to lay next to him.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it,” he says through a smile, twisting your hair around his index. “I mean, out of all the reactions I can get, yours is possibly the best of them.”

“Thank you,” you say, sounding a bit more like a question. “You know, I’m glad that you invited me up here. I haven't been getting the best sleep as of late.”

“You can always come to me,” he’s quick to say, eager so evident in his voice that he’s drowning in it. He wants to be near you, he wants to be with you.

“I don't want to bother you,” you confess with a faint voice.

“You could never bother me.” It’s the truth. He’d crawl to you if it meant even a fraction of your attention would be given to him. He’d do what he could just to hear your voice. You’d never be a bother to him. You’d be his saving grace. It’s silent for a moment, one where he can hear the house come alive under him and feel your breath with even more vigor than before, feeling each and every pause, every gust of air a kiss against his skin that makes him yearn for more. He calls your name, and it’s thick on his tongue- foreign and light, and yet it sounds like he’s said it countless times before, as if he knew the name by heart. You hum in response and he takes a deep breath.

His finger twirls around a small piece of your hair, letting the hair curl around his finger before he releases it, only to do the same thing once more. “I’m always surprised that you let me get so close,” he says in a quiet voice, careful to not ruin the moment but a part of him knows that it might have been ruined already when it alludes to him. He can feel your eyes on him, watching him carefully as your lips part. “I know that I’m not exactly a knight in shining armor or anything and uh-” he lets the strad of your hair go, watching it bounce in freedom- “I just want you to know that I appreciate that you even let me touch you. I really like you, you know? I think you’re a much better person than I’ll ever be.” His lips stretch into a bittersweet smile that soon falls into a frown, twisting his features into something more somber. You say his name and it makes his breath hitch, a hiccup in his throat as his name fills the momentary silence. “I mean it. I think that’s why I- why you mean so much to me. I could never be like you. I can only admire you from afar and want you for myself.” He lets out a breathless puff of air that has humor etched into it. “I just wanted you to know that you mean a lot more to me than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”

With every continuation of his words, you felt your body respond to him. Your stomach twists with butterflies causing a storm inside of you, your chest tight and the sweet relief of air has escaped your lungs, and you’re hot, heat flush against your face and creeping from your chest and upward. You wonder if he could hear every change in your breathing, in your heart that beats, in just you.

He looks at you through half closed eyes and for once, you don’t think that it’s sleep that’s causing his soft smile and tender eyes. You stiffen, your muscles going rigid under his stare. The pillow is cool under your face as you stay hidden from him, gripping at the edges and turning away from his gaze, unable to keep as tight face as a smile creeps across your face.

He laughs as you lower your head, hiding your face from his after the tender words that were shared. “Come on, was it that easy to make you flustered?” He teases, the bed dipping as he moves. His hand tugs on the pillow that is held tightly in your grasp. “Oh come on, just look up,” he whines, weakly tugging at the pillow. “Seriously, you’re so dramatic and for no reason. It shouldn’t be news to you that I like you.” His smile is clear in his voice, light and full of kittenish behavior. “If you don’t pay attention to me, I’m going to continue, you know.” His grin widens when you finally peek at him, and he can’t help but laugh.

Diavolo:

There is chatter in the room, accompanied by the heels of shoes that click against the tiled floor. The room is lit in an orange glow that makes the atmosphere of the room seem almost dream-like. You tug wine glass, pulling it closer to you, careful to not let a drop spill over and stain the pristine white tablecloth. You glance around the room, watching people chat amongst themselves, their own eyes glued to their partners.

You look at the prince before you who takes a sip from his glass, his tongue peeking to wipe at the taste on his lips. “Diavolo?” The glass is set down and he looks at you with slightly widened eyes. “When I said I wanted to go out for dinner, I was fine with just some Akudonalds or ya know-” you glance once more around the room, your gaze focused on the silverware set carefully in front of you- “anything.

“This is anything,” he says, his smile cool and hands resting above the table. “We hardly go out and when we do, the others tend to accompany us. While I enjoy their company, I’d also like to just enjoy yours. So I thought, since this is a rare occasion, we’d make the best of it.” He leans close to you, and you know that there is no malice or hidden intention with him. He is honest, able to tell you what he wants without finding it necessary to hide himself. “If you are uncomfortable with such a restaurant, we can always go somewhere else, next time.”

“It’s not that, it’s just-” you clear your throat, leaning against the table, lowering your voice- “I’ve never been to such a high-end place. I don’t want you to overspend because of me. I’m fine just going somewhere low-key.”

He laughs, shaking his head and his fingers drum against the table. I’m a prince. There’s no such thing as overspending and even if there were, I don’t mind it if it’s you that I’m doting on.” You nod slowly, your fingers running at the edge of the fork handle. “Really, there is no need to worry. I’m just happy that you agreed to join me on this outing.”

You do your best to not shake your legs, mindful of the wine beside you. “‘M glad I was able to join you as well. I- I like spending time with you.” You smile sweetly at him, a hint of nerves tracing against your smile. “I just have to admit that I was taken aback when you invited me out. I know you mentioned how it’s always us with the others, but I don’t know-” you fingers find themselves tracing around the base of the glass- “I guess I always figured you liked me because I was able to get you out of work since you know, I am part of your work. I never would have assumed that you actually wanted to spend time with me.”

For a moment, it’s silent, a brief moment that couldn't even be considered silent, just a short pause but it's enough for him. “May I admit something to you?” Diavolo asks, his hands fiddling with the napkin beside himself. You nod, leaning forward, urging him to continue. “I was always fascinated with humans. I loved humans- they were these beings who had free will and they all lived different lives but in the end they shared the same fate.” He chuckles softly and his hand goes to the stem of the wine glass. “It’s the same for demons, of course. Any life can be taken and for the most part, they have free will, but I think I love humans. Or at least I thought I did.” He looks up at you, his smile faltering for a moment as he struggles to keep it up. “But I think rather than love, I hold admiration for their humanity. For their tenacity, and kindness; their love and warmth that they have with each other. And when I look at you-” his hand leaves the glass and is left open towards you- “I’m reminded of how beautiful humans can be.” His smile turns bitter for a moment, falling and he makes no attempt to keep up the facade. “I’m reminded just how fragile they are. I need you to know that I admire humanity, but I think I love you. I love how you do your best to help those around you, how you adapt to your environment, and just how easily you can make others fall for you.” He lets out a short laugh through his nose. “If I have to be honest, I think I’m also jealous of you. I wish I were the only one who could have the opportunity to fall for you.” His hand is still held out towards you, vacant without yours.

Throughout his monologue your body has been on fire, pooling in your stomach and against your back. You stare at his empty hand, trying to will yourself to hold it but the most that you can do is lay your head on the table, silverware clicking together and a dull thud heard. You want to let out a whine but you’re sure you’ve already called attention to yourself and- oh dear. What will people think of when they see Lord Diavolo with a human who has planted their face against a table. Your thoughts race, clouding your mind as the silence in the room is deafening, echoing in your ears as you rest with your face down.

“Is this a human custom?” Diavolo asks, his voice full of genuine wonderment. “Should I also be doing it?”

“Dia,” you mumble, your body slowly squeezing against itself in order to make yourself smaller. “You can’t confess so nonchalant,” you say in a hushed whisper, wanting to let out any type of noise that is slowly building up inside of you. “It’s- It’s too much for me,” you whine, slowly raising your head to peer at him.

“Well, I am a prince- a demon one at that. I suppose you can say that there are different customs for us as well.” His smile is jovial, and he reaches across the table, his hand open and this time you take it. Unable to look him in the eye, you resort to watching as his hand slowly threads to intertwine himself with you. “I must say, if that’s the response I were to get, I might as well continue it. I rather liked whatever it was that you did.” He’s so honest, looking at you with a wide grin that shows his pointed teeth and you can’t help but bury your face once more, grinning when you hear him let out a small laugh, his hand closing around yours.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me headcanons #im gonna scream #this took so long #someone fight me #why did i over do it #oh god please enjoy it #like im crying and laughing #finally done #one requests out #now i got others to do #gonna scream #also i should have lunch #what should i have

[velvetcloxds]

AND WHATEVER COMES AFTER THAT| K.M.

Pairing: Klaus x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1991 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Klaus has been trying to convince the reader to be with him for years, but has always failed. At the end of one of Elijah's peace parties, Y/n finally gives in.

“For the lady…” Rebecca says with a smile, holding out my glass of wine for me.

“Thank you,” I say, taking the glass in my hand before refocusing my gaze on the dancefloor where the last few people are still keeping up with the silly beat of the current 60’s song. “You’d think they would have given up by now.” I say, laughing softly as I point down to where Hailey and Elijah are dancing, attempting to keep a somewhat respectable distance between them. Rebecca smiles and moves to rest her glass on the banister of the balcony.

“You’d also think he’d have officially made a move by now, but my big brother does things in his own little way.” She tells me, smiling still as her eyes linger for a sweet second on Marcel Gerard who is making quite the show of the way he’s twirling around his date, her dress shifting higher up her thigh with every turn. Rebecca scoffs softly, taking another large sip of her drink.

“He’s not the only one.” I say with a raised brow, her glass making a soft clinking noise against her ring when she grips onto her glass tighter, eyes drawn tight to show me she’s not exactly pleased with my statement.

“I don’t know what you’re implying, Y/N, but I’d remind you to think very carefully about what you’re going to say next,” She says and turns to face me, leaning forward to make sure I could hear her. “You may very well be my dearest friend and my brother may very well be completely smitten with you, but I’m not above kicking your ass.” She tells me and though her words would prompt a serious tone, I catch the little smile that slips onto her lips when our eyes meet.

“I have yet to see you try, Rebecca,” I offer in reply, laughing lightly as she shakes her head. “Besides,” I start, taking a sip of wine before handing her my glass. “I’d have to remind you that you’d be ruining your own clothing in the process.” I tell her as I move to do a slow twirl and she gasps softly, taking in the Audrey Hepburn inspired ensemble, the black dress and gloves being something that Rebecca had kept from her time spent in the actual decade. Her shock sinks into a small grin as she looks me over, eyes lingering on the pearl necklace we brought at a secondhand boutique last week.

“You look perfectly in place,” She tells me and nods towards the hallway behind us. “Maybe you could convince my brother to step out of his hole long enough to save you a dance.” She says and squeezes my arm softly as she passes by me, losing the glasses on her way down the stairs where she calmly clears the last few guest from the dancefloor and out the door, waving quickly as she closes the door of the ballroom behind her.

I smile, the music seeming louder somehow now that I’m alone in here and I find myself almost drifting down the stairs. I hum to myself, dancing towards the drink table. Swaying to the rhythm as I start pilling empty platters and used plates together.

“You missed the party,” I say softly, not stopping what I’m doing as I hear him still on the balcony above. “It was quite the turnout.” I add, stepping back from the table to look up at him, his lips tilting into a lopsided grin when he sees me.

“My apologies, love,” He shrugs eyes darkening as they slowly make their way from my lips downwards, lingering for a second on the pearls around my neck before slipping lower and lower, until he clears his throat softly, meeting my gaze in an instant. “I clearly had no idea what I’d be missing out on.” He tells me, voice low as he pulls a hand through his hair.

“Maybe you should come down here and get a better look.” I offer, tone matching his as I step back even more, slowly making my way to the dancefloor where he meets me in mere seconds, hands carefully resting on my waist as I move slowly to sway to the gentle melody, eyes glued to his as he lets out a soft breath.

“You are…” He starts, moving a hand to carefully take hold of mine. “Ravishing,” He whispers, the sound sending an almost electric shiver down my spine as he lifts my hand to his mouth where he places a delicate kiss to my palm, not once breaking eye contact. “Tell me..” He begins, using his teeth to carefully pull the glove away, holding my bare hand tightly in his own as he leads me into a dance. “Why won’t you be mine, Y/n?” He asks, holding me against him as he dips me backwards slowly, carefully turning us together before pulling me up to be but inches from his face. “Why won’t you let me love you?” He asks, keeping hold of my waist as he turns me around in his arms where he nimbly lifts my hand in the air, removing the other glove as he attentively traces the length of my arm until I can feel his skin against mine, the glove dropping soundlessly to the floor as I tilt my head to the side to see him.

“We’re dangerous together,” I tell him, carelessly letting him guide my hands to where he needs them and numbly allowing him to spin me out and then in before once again coming face to face with him. “We’d hurt each other,” I say, moving with him as we move one step forward and one step back, twirling and then repeating. “You’d hurt me.” I say, momentarily leaning back against him halfway through the twirl.

“I would never,” He offers and pauses as well, risking the loss of the rhythm to touch my cheek and gain my attention. “I could never.” He adds and I turn around in his hold.

“That’s what they always say,” I say and move my hands to his shoulders where I lead him into the same steps as earlier. “They always promise me forever,” He holds my waist delicately. “They never mean it.” I tell him, his eyes darkening as he tries to read my emotions.

“I am not them, my love,” His eyebrows knit together as he looks me over. “I will gladly give you forever and always and whatever comes after that. I love you. I burn for you,” He announces simply and I let out a shaky breath. “Can you truly say that you don’t feel the same? Tell me you don’t feel anything at all for me?” He asks, voice raw as he waits for a reply and I shake my head, dropping my hands to the side when he suddenly released me from his hold, looking to the sky as he shakes his head as well.

“Klaus,” I begin, pulling at the pearls to release the necklace from my neck, it along with the very obvious tension in the room making me feel like I’m suffocating. “I do feel the same. I feel everything and more, but it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t do this. I can’t possibly give you the power to hurt me.” I drop the pearls to the floor as I fold my arms around me, the playlist coming to an abrupt stop when the slow song ends.

“I understand,” He says after a moment, looking around the room, eyes scattering through the mess of dirty glasses and plates and coats that were left behind. “We should probably allow the staff to clean this place,” He tells me and forces a slight smile when our eyes meet. “Give me a moment to retrieve your things from upstairs and I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I say, guilt filling my heart as I see the hurt in his eyes that he couldn’t possibly hide from me even if he had attempted to do so.

“I know,” He says, picking up the fallen gloves and carefully handing them to me. “I want to.” He says, giving me a soft wink before walking up the stairs.

I let out a shaky breath as I pick up the pearls as well, folding them into the gloves to keep them safe and before my mind could even process the thought, I’m walking up the stairs, following the sound of his heartbeat that leads me to the room he spent the night in hiding away from the guests.

I use my foot to carefully push open the slightly ajar door, Klaus’s silhouette visible at the end of the room where he pushes handfuls of paintbrushes into cups of water as an overturned painting rests against the dresser.

“I couldn’t leave them uncleaned,” He informs me, my own heartbeat probably giving me away. “I got distracted downstairs is all, completely slipped my mind.”

“It’s okay,” I say and he looks at me quickly to nod before going back to his brushes and I walk to the center of the room, pulling at the string to turn on the light and get a better view of everything. “You were painting?” I ask, now noticing not just the one canvas, but a whole collection of them, all scattered and resting against multiple pieces of furniture.

“I felt remarkably inspired.” He comments shyly and I smile.

“By what?” I ask, mindfully reaching to turn around the largest of the canvases, the one I saw first and I can’t prevent the audible gasp that leaves my lips when I see the beautiful medley of colors that he’s somehow managed to create my face with.

“You.” He answers absentmindedly, shrugging slightly as he waves my coat and purse in the air to show me that he’s found it amongst everything in here. I smile, bending down to take it all in, every brushstroke and color, every piece of himself that he used to create every stroke of me.

“This is beautiful, Klaus.” I laugh softly, holding the hand with the gloves to my heart as a sudden rush of emotions run though me.

“The painting is only as beautiful as the muse who inspired it,” He comments simply, looking at me sweetly. “I don’t think I could ever verbally explain how much you mean to me, how much I care, how much you’ve changed me purely my existing. I don’t think I could ever completely fathom how remarkable you are and how extremely lucky I am that by some strange twist of faith I’ve been lucky enough to know you,” He laughs softly as well, smiling sheepishly as he catches my gaze. “I want to live my life with you, and I’d wait however long it takes for you to feel the same.”

“Forever?” I ask, standing up and placing the gloves onto the dresser beside me. He nods.

“And always.” He adds and I smile, the dreadful and fearful feeling in my stomach slowly dissolving.

“What about just one more minute?” I ask and he tilts his head, smiling as I slowly make my way towards him, pausing only for a second before cupping his face in mine. “Thirty seconds,” I say and he holds onto my arms. “Ten seconds,” I whisper, his forehead against mine. I breathe out slowly, nodding when our eyes meet, silently asking for permission before his lips delicately meet mine. My entire body filling with butterflies as he pulls away and I smile. “Let’s get married…” I say and his chest vibrates lightly as a happy laugh fills the air, pulling back slightly just to see me.

“Are you sure?” He asks carefully and I nod, pulling him closer to me again.

“I am yours, Niklaus Mikealson. Forever and always.”

“And whatever comes after that.”

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

Masterlist

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus x reader #the originals #the originals x reader

[ppersonna]

ride or die - myg | m

we don't need money to feel good cause you're the ride or die, the rest of my life. don't need a party to feel high, we're like the modern version of bonnie and clyde , bonnie & clyde, yuqi

✹ summary- there’s nothing in the world you wouldn’t do for Min Yoongi.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- min yoongi x reader

✹ word count- 1.6k

✹ genre- hmm idk. maybe some angst, some smut, some action?, established relationship, criminal!au

✹ chapter warnings- sexual content, mentions of criminal acts/police, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of death, guns, unhealthy obsession with each other lol

✹ a/n- hi loves! i wanted to challenge myself and write something a bit more prose-heavy than any sort of plot or semblance of plot. i hope you enjoy this random drabble that wouldnt leave my brain!!! thanks to @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @nomseok​ for looking over it for me and helping me feel better about it LOLLL. i love u all ALSO PLS LISTEN TO THE SONG BONNIE AND CLYDE BY YUQI IT IS AMAZING AND WHERE I GOT ALL MY INSPO FOR THIS!!

 75 mph…

100 mph…

Yoongi’s hand grips tight on the inside of your thigh, fingers pressing into the supple flesh as his foot presses down the gas pedal. 

The engine roars, matching the screaming explosion you feel inside your chest. Your veins feel like they’re flowing with the same high-octane fuel that Yoongi’s injected to the engine of the 1969 matte black Camaro.

Yoongi.

There’s nothing in the world you wouldn’t do for Yoongi.

The engine screams to life again, tearing through the otherwise silent car. It won’t be quiet for long. You can hear the distant blaring of police sirens, the low-grade rumble of helicopter wings closing in.

Yoongi simply smirks when you glance at him, eyes focused on the road with one hand on the leather steering wheel and the other rubbing at the skin of your inner thigh.

The sirens sound closer, only streets away now. Yoongi acts as if it’s only you and him, as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right here in this car with you beside him and the bag of prized jewels in the back.

You love him. You love him more than you’ve ever loved another, more than you’d ever convince yourself you’d love again. He’s all-consuming. Yoongi is the cosmos, the universe that holds you within his center.

You’d die for Yoongi.

You’d kill.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, unable to speak any further. You don’t need to. Yoongi knows what you’re saying. He grips your leg tighter and the smirk widens on his face, finally flickering his eyes over to your own. 

“I know,” he says. Because he does.

Yoongi gives no sign that he’s scared. He’s the picture of composure as he squeezes the car through narrow streets, tires squealing as he spins the wheel to slide into the next alley way and dodge the cops through yet another neighborhood. He doesn’t even bat an eye as he defends you inside the jobs, gun blazing as he ensures your safety without even a glance back. 

He gives no indication that anything can go wrong, as if his mind is already made up that everything will be okay and you’ll both get out, get away, without a scratch.

It’s different when he lays you down. He sets you on the cheap motel mattress with care, like a delicate doll, made of glass and ceramic, one wrong move away from breaking.

He presses his lips to every inch of your body, as if ensuring himself that you’re okay, that you’re here, that he got you out safely. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t want to break the reverent silence of the dingy bedroom that becomes his chapel when he has you in his arms.

Safe. 

You’re safe and Yoongi needs hours to remind himself of that, needs more than just kisses and touches. He pushes himself into you slowly, letting the tight heat of your core remind him just how alive you are. He opens you up like a prayer, spreading your legs and gasping for air as he recites the only invocation he knows, the only one he believes in.

“I love you.”

Sweaty and overheated, your hands grasp for any part of Yoongi you can--his arms, his vascular hands. You need more, need to feel him in more ways than you can count. Yoongi feels so good buried deep inside you, rocking his hips against your own and making your body scream with pent-up desire.

“I love you, Yoongi,” you nearly scream as he hits a spot within you that makes you forget about the whole world around you. “Only you.”

Yoongi doesn’t believe in a God, doesn’t believe in any higher power. But he thinks the closest to heaven is the way you cry his name for him, the way you keen for more as he spills himself inside you.

The duffel bag of dollar bills is heavy in your lap as you throw yourself into the Camaro, running from the high rise bank, and Yoongi slams on the gas pedal before you can even close the door.

“Shit!” Your hands grip at the duffel bag, trying to stay afloat in the speeding car. The door closes by itself after he careens down the highway and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“God, that was so fucking good,” Yoongi grins, voice high with excitement and adreneline. “You did so fucking good, baby doll.”

The praise goes straight to your heart, straight to the muscle inside your chest that has Yoongi’s name stamped into each vein, each artery. He’s yours, he’s so wholly yours and you so wholly his, you think you can’t even breathe without him around.

You don’t watch where he drives, too focused on the curve of his cheeks, the way his black hair is pushed back messily. You don’t care where he takes you. All you need is him and the feel of his hand resting on your thigh, a spot made just for him.

Yoongi.

I’d die for you, Yoongi, don’t you know that?

Yoongi finally, blessedly, looks over at you once he’s settled himself onto a long stretch of highway outside of the city, no longer looking in the rearview mirror for the shining lights of the police, no longer zipping and weaving between other cars on the road.

The peace of the open road settles in your chest and you let go of the duffle bag, throwing it over your shoulder to sit in the backseat, in between the bag of jewels and the expensive artwork from the last heist.

You settle into the seat and he lets his fingers spread out, touching you as if grounding himself to you. 

“You’re my ride or die, baby,” he breathes after a moment of silence. You stare straight ahead, watching as the dark sunset ahead of you bursts in an explosion of colors.

“Forever, Yoongi.”

Yoongi could spend hours between your thighs. He doesn’t even make any attempts to remove himself from the taste of your slick cunt until you’ve climaxed twice from his tongue. He eats you like he’s parched, only able to sate his thirst by drinking directly from your core.

He holds your legs tight, reminding himself you’re here, you’re with him, you’re never leaving and he’s never letting you go. 

Your hands thread through his hair, gripping the silken raven locks as he digs his tongue into your channel yet again, lapping up the sweetness that spills from your orgasm, relishing in the rhythmic chanting of his name. He never wants to hear anything else drip from your lips, wants no other name but his own staining the pretty pout and echoing around the motel room.

You are his everything. His world. His universe. 

He finally pulls away, smiling up at you after your third consecutive orgasm wrought by his mouth, and kisses at the skin of your thighs--the same place he allows his hand to rest when he steers you away from the chaos of your burglaries.

“I love you more than anything in this world,” he breathes, pressing his soft kisses up your legs and swirling around your belly.

“More than money?” You ask, out of breath.

“More than money.”

“More than jewels?”

“More than anything any bank in the world combined could have in their stores,” he promises to every inch of your breasts, tongue lapping at the nipple. “More than any king could ever want.”

“Yoongi,” you sigh when he finally slides into you, completing you. You’re nothing without him, nothing without the feeling of him within you.

“Say it again,” he whispers against your ear as he thrusts into you gently, holding you tenderly in his arms.

“Yoongi.”

His head falls against your own, foreheads touching as he bores his eyes into yours. His. His, his, his. You’re his only, and his forever, and he never wants to live another moment, another day, another second, without you.

He claims you, seed spilling deep into your womb at the height of your shared climax. Your body welcomes him, clenches with desire and milks him to the last drop, desperate to keep him within you for as long as you can.

“It’s just you and me forever, baby,” he says after he’s cleaned you up and laid you down.

Suddenly, there’s sirens and the flashing red and blue lights outside the window.

“Come out! We have you surrounded.”

Yoongi helps you throw on clothes, whispering hurriedly as he stashes the guns he needs into his pocket and throws one to you. 

He throws a look at you as he knocks the glass out of the back window of the bathroom.

“You ready for another adventure, baby?”

The gun feels heavy in your hands, but solid. Comforting. The gun is your means of staying with Yoongi, never leaving his sight. You’d take down anything that stood in the way, eliminate any threat that posed a risk of taking him away.

He notes your silence and kisses you quick, before hoisting you up to climb out the window and make a run for the hidden Camaro in the alleyway.

He catches up to you, hand slipping into your own and tugging you to run faster, the Camaro coming into your sights like a sanctuary. You can hear the pounding footsteps of the police around the building, the splintering wood as they force themselves into the now-vacant motel room, still wet and hot from where you made love.

Yoongi grins as he slides into the car and fires the engine, pulling you in for a deep and passionate kiss, hands hovering over the steering wheel.

With a quirk of his lips, he places his hand back on it’s spot on your thigh.

“Ride or die, right, baby?”

#bts smut #bts fics #min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #yoongi fics #suga smut #suga fics

[beauty-and-passion]

Time to talk about the flower shirt

You read the title. Time to talk about this.

This is the infamous flower shirt Thomas put on in his store and, since the fandom is the fandom, everyone started to speculate about those flowers.

At first, I didn’t want to do it. They’re just flowers and other people already talked about them, so what could I possibly add to the conversation?

But while I was writing about Orange, I had to talk a moment about the orange flower. It was supposed to be a small parenthesis, just a couple of words about that.

But then I looked at the other flowers and what other people told/not told about them and how some didn’t find Patton’s flower... so here I am, adding my two cents to this theme.

You needed it? Probably not. Well, I’m writing it anyway.

So let’s take a closer look at those flowers and see each one in detail:

__________________________________

Roman: Red rose

Should I really explain why it’s perfect for Roman? Red roses are the universal symbol of love. Basically in all cultures red roses symbolize passion, true love, romance and desire. Also, according to this website, even the shade has a meaning! In fact, the deeper the red shade is, the stronger is the passion.

And even the number of red roses has a meaning! In this case, we have only one single red rose and that "represents love at first sight, or if it’s coming from a long-term partner, they are saying “you are still the one”.”

You know what that made me think? About Thomas telling Roman “You’re my hero”. A perfect symbol that he was “still the one” for Thomas.

__________________________________

Orange: Lantana camara

This is an incredibly peculiar flower.

Lantana Camara symbolizes severity and rigour. And this alone can be analyzed in all possible ways, but there are other interesting details about this plant I think it's worth mentioning.

Lantana is toxic for livestock, such as cattle, sheep, horses, dogs and goats. According to Wikipedia, previous studies suggested it could be toxic for humans too, especially the green unripe berries. However "other studies have found evidence which suggests that its fruit poses no risk to humans".

Lantana is a freaking invasive plant. In some areas, it's so predominant, to reduce biodiversity, because its presence "can significantly slow down the regeneration of forests, by preventing the growth of new trees". Also, as if this isn't enough, this plant can also produce toxic chemicals which inhibit other plant species.

Lantana has also a great adaptability, that helped it to be so invasive: it can live in a wide range of different environmental conditions, it can survive long periods without water, heck it's even resistant to fire. It's not a plant you can underestimate. Like Orange, I assume.

But Lantana isn't just an invasive plant. Lantana has always been used for medical purposes, because it showed good antimicrobial, fungicidal and insecticidal properties and its extract helps against respiratory infections and ulcers.

Also, since it doesn't have many pests or diseases, lantana became a common ornamental plant. It even attracts butterflies!

In other words: isn't that the perfect plant to symbolize the double nature of a dark side? It can be a threat, change the environment, destroy and even kill. But it can also be a medicine, something useful, something beautiful.

Whoever Orange is, Lantana camara tells us that, whithout a doubt, he’s a dark side.

__________________________________

Janus: Sunflower

Do you think Janus isn't perfect enough as he is? Do you think there's not enough husband material in the snek?

Well, you’re wrong and the sunflower is here to prove it.

Sunflower symbolizes loyalty, adoration, longevity, vitality, worship. Now add this up to the sunflower’s behaviour and how it follows the sun... and you’ll get Janus. Janus literally acts like a sunflower: Thomas is his sun and everything Janus does is for him. His whole existence is centered around Thomas.

But we already knew that, because it's the same message that shone through his playlist. Everything about Janus tells us how much he adores Thomas, from his canonical behavior in the series, to his playlist, to this flower.

Oh, do you need another proof that this is flower is perfect for Janus? Some societies use sunflowers as religious symbols. Ah, some good ol' reference to religion: it’s like being in his playlist all over again.

And, of course, sunflowers are used for a variety of reasons, like cooking oils, skin care and so on. Even the flower says self care.

This man is perfect.

__________________________________

Remus: Green chrysanthemum

Here's another interesting flower.

Chrysanthemum symbolizes death and it’s the typical flower used for funerals. And I thought this was its universal meaning. It was perfect for Remus just like that.

But then I found out that Europeans use chrysanthemums for funerals and to honor the dead. This flower actually has a whole lot of meanings, some completely different from this.

In China, for example, chrysanthemums are associated with wealth, prosperity and long life. Also they're symbols of new life and reincarnations, so they're the perfect gift for old people or newborns.

While in Japan chrysanthemums are symbols of power and royalty. And that's even more fitting for Remus, because he's a Duke, so he is royalty.

But chrysanthemum also symbolizes friendship - and not just "a friendship", but a meaningful one. It's a symbol of loyalty, devotion, romantic/platonic love and, in general, positive energy. It's a flower with an incredibly strong meaning, so it can't be given too lightly.

And this makes it even more perfect for Remus. It's a flower with a huge plurality of meanings, it's both associated with life and death, it's powerful and it's royalty.

Also, you can eat it. Isn't that the perfect Remus flower?

(On a side note: please notice how chrysanthemums and sunflowers are both associated with joy, loyalty and devotion. I would have never considered "joy" a common trait between Janus and Remus while loyalty and devotion... well, they both care about Thomas and his career and they both work for him despite not being accepted, so I can see why those are common traits.)

__________________________________

Patton: Nemophila

Surprise surprise, this flower wasn't easy to find. I’ve never heard of it, so I had to search among endless lists of blue flowers, hoping to find one that would perfectly match the one on the shirt.

And that’s how I found nemophila.

First of all: nemophila is also known as "Baby Blue Eyes" and it's an extremely rare color to find in nature. It’s very famous in Japan, thanks to the Hitachi Seaside Park. Open this link: it’s a literal sea of blue and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Of course, it attracts people every year.

Nemophila represents prosperity, congratulations on success and victory. Not the first things you would associate with Patton, right?

Well, while I was searching more informations about this flower, I found out this website about the essence of Baby Blue Eyes and the passage I quoted down below has the exact same words you can find on that link:

With its pronounced affinity for water, the Baby Blue Eyes flower essences addresses qualities of tender sensitivity, innocence and trust associated one’s early childhood relationship to the father, or other significant masculine figures that are in some way disturbed.

Very often the father was absent, or there was a lack of support or genuine presence. The Baby Blue Eyes type attempts over time to cover this wound of vulnerability with a false “hardening,” such as emotional distancing, mistrust, cynicism or spiritual alienation. It is a flower that can be equally helpful for men or women, although it is especially needed for many men who struggle to become strong, by disowning their pain.

So nemophilia’s essence has qualities associated with childhood, to the father figure and attempts to “repress” and hide emotions.

That’s Patton. That’s him, period. The childhood-related emotions, that are linked to Patton’s longing for “a simpler time”. The mentions of a father figure - who migh be absent or showing lack of support (like, idk, suggesting you should die so your friends live?). And the attempt to “cover the vulnerability” doesn’t remind you anything? Like the Nostalgia episodes?

This flower is Patton.

__________________________________

Logan: Blue petunia

I would like to say, from the bottom of my heart, a huge "FUCK YOU" to this flower, because I spent TWO DAYS searching all the blue flowers in the world and all possible variants, asking myself why this goddamn flower looked so familiar and why it was so hard to find. Blue isn't even a common color in nature, so why couldn't I find it?

I've learned more about blue flowers in these two days than in my entire life. I've searched among flowers I never saw before, like glandora diffusa, leschenaultia and omphalodes verna. I was so desperate to consider this flower a new species, with the petals of a bellflower and the corolla of a morning glory. I even found a goddamn chinese variant of the morning glory that was somehow similar but not that much and why, WHY this was so hard to find?!

And then, after two days and a lot more desperation, I remembered: my dear friend @reptilianwithscallions​ told me about a post they made, regarding this shirt and the flowers. Maybe they had some idea about Logan's flower?

Well, let's all thank my saviour and this post, because otherwise I would've kept searching until the end of my days.

Long story short, Logan's flower is a fucking blue petunia.

And it's a very peculiar choice, because petunias have multiple meanings, several of which can be contradictory.

In general, petunia symbolizes anger and resentment. It reminds someone that you're still angry or disappointed by their actions and you haven’t gotten over the things that caused these feelings.

Oh my, I didn't know we were back in Logan's playlist. It's basically what he kept expressing towards Thomas with his songs: that he was angry at Thomas for his decision, that he doesn't approve that Thomas hasn't "a real job" and so on. Petunia is a flower that screams passive-aggressive, so it's perfect for Logan.

But petunia's meaning deeply changes, depending on the color of the flower. And while petunia in general symbolizes anger, a blue petunia is a symbol of peacefulness, intimacy and deep trust, shared between two or more people. It's so wholesome, because the deep trust reminds me - again - of Logan's playlist and how it ended: no matter what, he and Thomas are always best friends.

Also, petunia flowers have even a secret meaning behind. Since they’re also gifted to new neighbors or to people who have just moved into a new home, they represent a perfect welcome and a way to express affection and kindness to others.

You’re lucky to be so wholesome, you tricky flower.

__________________________________

Virgil: Perennial Geranium

Geranium is a confused flower.

Some of the other flowers have conflicted meanings, but not as much as this flower. These are the most common meanings I found:

Folly or Stupidity

Gentility and kind nature

Clever minds

Ingenuity

Melancholy

Perfect gift for a bride

You can gift it to someone with whom you have planned a meeting 

You can gift it to someone with whom you haven't planned a meeting, just to make them feel welcomed

True Friendship

See? It’s confused.

Aside from jokes, this variety of meanings is due to its great diffusion: since geraniums grow everywhere, every culture gave them a different meaning. And sometimes these meanings depend on the situation too.

Awww, isn't it perfect for Virgil? He can be good and bad at the same time. Anxiety can be bad for Thomas and detrimental for his life, but it can also be the alarm Thomas needs. It depends on the situation.

And, just like geraniums in general symbolize positive emotions, happiness and friendship, so Virgil is in general a good guy. All he does is for Thomas' wellbeing, not against him.

And this is confirmed by the vast use of geranium's essential oil. It's one of the most popular and it has a ton of properties: anti-viral, anti-bacterial, anti-inflammatory, anti-depressant, decongestant, relaxing and so on. Just like our Virge boy can be incredibly useful under the right circumstances. (Did someone say "Flirting with social Anxiety"?)

Also, geraniums are simple, humble flowers that usually grow outside, but then we take them and make them part of our homes. Once again, it’s Virgil: he's an outsider, he's humble, he talks bad about himself - but Thomas and the others took him and made him part of the famILY anyway.

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Thomas: Cherry blossom

I searched this flower everywhere and the only one that looks like the one on the shirt is the cherry blossom. Why did Thomas make a cherry blossom with eight petals, when they all have five? I have no idea. Is this a different flower, maybe? Maybe, but I’m done: I've looked at enough flowers and I don’t have any strength left.

As you probably already know, cherry blossoms are extremely important in Japan. They're beautiful, they're everywhere and they're meaningful.

Why? Because cherry blossoms are considered the perfect metaphor for human existence. When they blossom it's a pink ocean, a party, people go to admire them - but they’re short lived, because in two weeks, the blossoms start to fall. It's just like human life: a small, rich, glorious parenthesis in the void. Something little and precious that ends soon.

But cherry blossoms also symbolize rebirth, optimism, hopes and dreams. When they bloom, it means springtime is coming and spring has always been associated with renewal.

That’s a very good choice for character Thomas. He’s basically a cherry blossom, the whole series is: something that reminds us how beautiful life is, how multi-faceted, how important. Just like Thomas' single being encompasses seven different sides of himself, so life presents a wide range of choices, of aspects, of flavours. All beautiful, all worthy of appreciation, no matter how different they can be from you and your experience.

And this becomes even more important, in relation to the passage of time and the transience of life. Because life is short and, after that, there won't be any more time to appreciate anything.

In addition to that, I would like to point out how the theme of passage of time is something we already saw in the series. And not just one time, but several. Since the first season, we have episodes all around the concept of growing up, growing old, not being a child anymore, becoming an adult. And the last Aside keeps going in this direction. It's clear this is a big theme and its connection with the cherry blossoms proves it.

But why is the flower so different on the shirt? Because Thomas wanted to mess up with us? Probably. Almost certainly. Once again, thank you Mr. Sanders for making me question everything.

The floor is (figuratively) yours now: if you have any other information, thoughts or opinions, feel free to share them.

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