#except its sibling edition

[bunshr00m]

no one quite taught me how to get over missing your sibling that has moved out

[nicomoon69]

as somebody who didn’t give a fuck abt the genshin quests when I played 2021-2023 I gotta say the quests actually lowkey slap 😭 turns out the endless dialogue is interesting if you know what the fuck they’re going on abt and aren’t js doing them for primos

[da-rulah]

Rubenesque - Secondo x F! Plus Size Reader

Summary: Retirement had its perks. For Secondo, one of those was being able to spend much more time on the things he enjoyed. And there were only two things he truly enjoyed these days; art, and you. Although if you asked him, he’d insist that they were one and the same.

So how would he react when he learns that your peers are mocking your sinfully gorgeous body, and you're struggling to love yourself?

Rating: Explicit, 18+ Only

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Fatphobic comments, low self esteem, sensual sex, semi-public sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), body worship, p in v sex, creampie 

A/N: Yes, this is self-indulgent. Sue me. And whilst it is a plus size reader fic, anybody can still enjoy Artist Secondo who enjoys his women...

Disclaimer: The painting in the header has been modified using photoshop to edit out a creepy old man. It is a Rubens painting, named "The Hermit and the Sleeping Angellica". It's important to also note, Rubens never painted any scenes for the satanic church. This is fiction for this particular story.

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | TIP JAR

Retirement had its perks. For Secondo, one of those was being able to spend much more time on the things he enjoyed. And there were only two things he truly enjoyed these days; art, and you. Although if you asked him, he’d insist that they were one and the same.  

Except, you were finding it harder and harder to believe him in that regard. With the whispers of harsh siblings as you passed in the hall managing to reach your ears, you were struggling more and more to understand why you were one of Secondo’s favourite things at all. He was unaware of your harsh feelings towards yourself, let alone of the whispers in the halls. But then, now he spent most of his time in his art studio on the edge of the grounds, you weren’t surprised that he was oblivious to the going’s on in the Ministry. Now that his younger brother was running the show, he didn't have to meddle quite so much in the politics of the Clergy. He’d only get involved when they tried to undermine Terzo; something he would never stand for, no matter how much he aggravated him. The burden had been passed on, and after decades of devotion and servitude, he figured he’d earned a little respite. 

His studio was his sanctuary. Few were allowed to set foot inside; the exceptions being his brothers, and you, naturally. You still remember the first time he invited you in. It had been one of your first official dates, and he’d set up a quaint little dinner by candlelight surrounded by his art and tools, showing you a piece of him so heavily guarded from the outside world, lest they think he’d gone soft.  

The studio itself was rather beautiful. It had once been a greenhouse, ornate green iron housing panels of thick glass from floor to ceiling. The panes considered as walls were covered in old stained-glass patterns of every colour in the shape of intricate florals. It had belonged to Papa Primo before, but in his old age, he simply didn’t have the time to run multiple greenhouses, and chose to keep the ones he did work out of closer to the Abbey itself to save him the trouble of a long walk. But for Secondo, it was perfect.  

Now out of commission, the old greenhouse had been repurposed into his own studio. Shelves of pots had been replaced by blank canvases; racks of plants now saved for his supplies. He’d added a potter’s wheel and small kiln at some point too – one of his many artistic adventures that he revisited from time to time.  

But his chosen medium had always been oil paints. Despite his talents in clay sculpting, pottery, sketch work, watercolour - any and all of it - oil paints were the greatest weapon in his arsenal. Many of his paintings hung in the Ministry, amongst the art commissioned centuries ago by various painters of the Renaissance and Baroque eras. Some of these painters had been commissioned to do large pieces in Catholic places of worship too, but had been swayed by the money and a promise of a life free from judgement to paint beautifully dark imagery throughout.  

Secondo’s oil paintings fit right in, his style similar to the artists he’d admired for much of his life. His subject matter varied, from beautiful scenes of sin, to intricate studies of the human form, to landscapes and still life. You adored his work, finding yourself having to rotate the canvases you hung in your quarters when he’d gift you a new one every so often.  

As Secondo spent the summer evening on the finer details of a scene from the Book of Revelations, the sun had begun to illuminate the colours of the stained glass with a warmth that cascaded over the stone floors. When you’d quietly entered into the studio so as not to disturb his focus, you were struck yet again by the beauty of his hideout.  

The coloured rays of light cascaded over your lover, stood at his easel without any acknowledgement of your arrival. How one man could look so dreamy, as if he’d been plucked from the most romantic of novels, was beyond you. You could only see him from behind, but it didn’t go unnoticed how his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the fabric stretching over his thick arms and solid back and tucked into his slacks. His apron was tied around his waist, pulling him in and showcasing a strong torso that Pythagoras himself would theorise about.  

Secondo was an artwork you wished you could paint and immortalise yourself. But you’d have to settle for committing this to memory instead as you approached where he stood, pulling a stool from a workbench and gently setting it down beside him.  

“Buonasera, amore mio,” he greeted as you sat, never taking his eyes from the canvas as his fingers handled his brush so carefully.  

“That’s beautiful,” you told him honestly, eyes scanning the half-finished work of the Whore of Babylon atop her beast of seven heads.  

Secondo smiled, his eyes flicking to the side to look at you briefly as he muttered a “grazie.” He continued the detail he was trying to finish, the two of you settling into comfortable silence. You hadn’t come here to chat, anyway – more to escape, than anything. You had once again heard harsh whispers of cruel siblings as you’d passed them in the halls not twenty minutes before deciding to find Secondo, and you weren’t sure you could take anymore today. You simply wanted his company. 

“I may need your assistance soon, mia musa (my muse),” he announced after a few moments of quiet. “I will finish this soon, and I need some... inspiration,” he paused to smirk back at you momentarily, “for my next work.”  

“What could I help with?” you asked, your tone somewhat dejected. Secondo stilled, his brow creasing as his head tilted slightly in your direction enough to be able to study you. If you’d been looking at him instead of your fingers in your lap, you’d have seen the way he squinted at you, noticing everything.  

“I want to paint you, mia musa,” he explained so gently, reaching towards you to tilt your chin up to him. When he met your eyes, he knew instantly something was the matter; you never avoided his gaze like that. 

“I wouldn’t make a very good subject matter...” you shook your head, standing up and wandering over to the rack of finished canvases Secondo was yet to do anything with. You looked through them, your mind elsewhere unable to really take in the art itself.  

Secondo studied you from his easel, watching with concerned curiosity. Something wasn’t right; that was incredibly obvious to him. He’d known you long enough and intimately enough to know that you weren’t yourself. And it didn’t sit right with him that you were putting yourself down either.  

You ran your fingertips over the tops of a particular art piece of his, feeling the texture of dried paint as your thoughts raced through every comment you’d heard through the halls since your relationship with Secondo had gone public. Such hurtful things about you and how you looked... 

“At least Papa Secondo is strong - he’ll need to be...” 

“I know... he could have his pick of sisters, and he chose her?”  

The laughter and digs at your body rattled around in your head; so much so, that you weren’t aware that Secondo had noticed at all until two strong arms were wrapping themselves around your waist from behind you, his unusually bare palms flattening against your stomach which had you recoiling instinctively. Secondo’s hold on you loosened, his hands hovering around you instead as he tried to work out what he’d done wrong. 

“Amore, I-” 

“I’m uh... I’m sorry, just...” you back peddled, trying to find an excuse for how you were acting that wouldn’t result in more questions, but you had nothing. Instead, you slid out from between him and the rack in front of you, back to his easel to find something to occupy your hands and avoid further conversation. You’d come here to watch him work in silence, to avoid people yet to not feel alone. You didn’t want to talk about this and make it into a bigger deal than it was. 

But Secondo watched you still, feeling oddly rejected for the first time with you. You’d never refused his touch before, never run away from him before. He could only imagine he might have said or done something wrong... Perhaps he was spending too much of his attention on his art and not on you. But that had never been an issue before – he’d always made such an effort to balance his affections.  

He took a few steps towards you, slowly like he was testing the waters, but you could barely even look at him, studying his half-finished painting instead as your cheeks began to ache from holding back unshed tears.  

“Have... Have I upset you, amore?” he asked cautiously, keeping his distance if that’s what you wanted. You pressed your lips together hard, taking a deep breath in and shaking your head. “You can tell me, I won’t be angry. I’d like to know so I could correct it-” 

“You haven’t,” you interrupted him, still focussed on the painting as one pesky little tear dripped down your cheek. With such a keen eye for detail, he noticed immediately, and his chest tightened. He was at your side in just a few quick strides. 

“Amore, what is it?” he asked, frantic but being so gentle with you as if he’d break you with a simple touch. His fingertips once again guided your chin to look at him, and when you saw the concern and fear in his eyes you could hardly hold up the dam anymore. 

You tried to speak, but the words got stuck in your throat. You didn’t want him to worry, and you knew if you told him everything, he’d want names. But now the tears were flowing, it made speaking all that much harder. Secondo waited patiently, wiping at the tears as they fell with the pads of his thumbs.  

“I just... I’m not sure I understand why... you’re attracted to me,” you hiccupped, your shoulders shaking, eyes trained on your feet. Secondo was taken aback... Why wouldn’t he be attracted to you? 

“Amore, you... you are one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever laid eyes on, what are you talking about? Have I not been making you feel so?” he panicked, immediately thinking perhaps he had been neglecting you in some way. But surely not, he told you how beautiful you were at least once a day in some shape or form. And it wasn’t as if your sex life together had been dwindling...  

“N-no, I know you are attracted to me, I just... Don’t understand why,” you sniffled, meeting his eyes. “Nobody else would-” 

“Why does anybody else matter?” That stumped you. You couldn’t explain yourself without informing him of what he didn’t hear himself when he spent his days in his studio, away from the whispers. You didn’t have much choice, here... 

“They... they talk,” you mumbled.  

“Who?” 

“The siblings. They whisper, they believe you deserve better, they don’t understand why you would pick me.”  

Secondo’s face darkened, the hard lines of a lifetime of stress forming deeper crevices across his brow. He was infuriated to know that members of his own congregation could be so narrow minded, despite the decades of teachings of what beauty meant and learning to accept anybody and everybody, no matter who they are or how they looked... But above that, he was enraged at the thought they were hurting you. He would find them and tear them a new asshole – but his first and only concern was you. 

“There is not a single thing about you that isn’t beautiful, amore. Do you not see it?” That only made you cry harder, because no, you didn’t see it. You had struggled with your body image for so long, and while you did your best to tell yourself you were beautiful despite your hang ups about your weight, you’d never come to love yourself in the way you intended.  

“I just... I struggle to see how all this,” you gestured to your body, “is beautiful. It’s not easy when the world is constantly telling you your body is wrong,” you cried. Secondo had no idea of the years of torment you’d faced at the hands of your peers, no matter where in life you found yourself. Beauty standards had plagued you for the longest time, and it constantly chipped away at the shred of self-confidence you had.  

Secondo stepped closer to you, an arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer as he wiped your tears again. “There is nothing wrong about your body, mia musa. You are un'opera d'arte (a work of art), no?”  

He was doing his best to comfort you, to tell you how exquisite you were but he could tell in the way you looked away from him with a small shake of your head that you didn’t believe it. All those years of being told your body wasn’t attractive had worn you down, and now you were hearing it all over again in the one place you should be able to feel truly comfortable. Secondo wouldn’t stand for it.  

The arm around your waist dropped to untie his apron, lifting it from over his head and throwing it down onto the stool he’d been working from. Then he threaded his fingers through yours, with a tight and reassuring grasp. “Come with me,” he told you, giving your hand a light tug as he stepped back. You followed him, allowing him to walk you out of the studio and through the gardens towards the Abbey. Panic washed over you, thinking he was taking you to confront the siblings in question. 

“Secondo, I don’t want to talk to them-” 

“That’s not where we’re going,” he assured you, “but they will be dealt with.” His protectiveness of you made your chest ache. How did this man adore you this much? You may never know.  

The grounds were relatively deserted. The sun was dipping below the mountainous horizon, casting a deeper orange glow over the Ministry and signalling the end of another day. The majority of Siblings were busy with their own lives, spending their downtime in the mess hall or in their dorms. A few stragglers were walking through the halls, including a couple of the siblings who’d whispered such cruel things to you.  

Secondo felt your hand squeeze his momentarily, and when he looked, he saw the look of embarrassment on your face as you walked towards them. He put two and two together very quickly when the siblings in question watched on, staring at you with amused little smiles. As Secondo marched you down the hall, his glare stuck on them and the moment they looked at his face, their smiles fell to looks of fear. Even as he walked you past where they stood, he stared with a look of thunder that chilled each of them to the bone - and rightly so.  

But he kept walking, until he stopped outside the large doors to the chapel. He dropped your hand only to open the heavy door and push it open.  

Inside the chapel, a handful of siblings were busy replacing candles and reordering the pew cushions as were their duties after any kind of service. At the sound of the heavy door creaking at the top of the aisle, all of their heads whipped around and stared in confusion between you and Secondo. He ushered you inside and held the door open as he turned to the siblings. 

“Out,” he ordered, his face stern and in no way amused by the puzzled looked the siblings shared between them. No one moved, looking around at the jobs that were yet to be done around the chapel.  

“B-but, Papa... we still have to-” one of them stuttered, Secondo’s mere presence and demeanour enough to have the poor soul on edge.  

“OUT!” he yelled, startling even you who jumped beside him. The siblings didn’t argue, knowing better than to stick around and hurried out of the door past the two of you. Once the last sibling had scurried out, Secondo closed the door with a heavy slam, pulling the wooden plank down that bolted it shut from inside. 

He walked around the pews towards the edge of the Chapel, stopping in front of one of the murals that had been painted centuries ago. He gazed up at it, before looking back at you and holding out his hand for you to join him. You did so with caution; not because you were scared of him, more so plagued by your own insecurity than anything. But when you approached his side and placed your hand in his, he held it so gently, guiding you closer to his side. Now stood shoulder to shoulder, you followed his gaze to the beautiful artwork on the wall that Secondo himself had worked to restore and keep in perfect condition since he was a young man.  

“What do you see, when you look at this?” he asked with tenderness, leaning down but never taking his eyes off the painting, “what do you notice?” 

You studied the images in front of you; a large scene of the Garden of Eden that differed from the traditional depictions. In this scene, it was Adam who was eating the apple, the Devil’s serpent coiled around a branch above Eve’s head. It showed the truth of that long-standing story, falsely peddled and passed down through centuries. Adam had been the one to sin, and lied to protect himself. The apple had become stuck in Adam’s throat as he lied to his God, hence the anatomical term ‘Adam’s apple’ that only men are born with. Eve sat on the roots of the large tree, weeping at Adam’s betrayal. She had played no part in this sin, and yet, she was to be blamed for it; but even that was not the first injustice of a patriarchy.  

“It’s... Adam’s betrayal. I see a woman scorned and forced to carry a burden of centuries of judgement,” you told him, feeling almost like a student being quizzed by her professor. You wanted to get the right answer, even if art was subjective.  

“Eve looks beautiful, no?” he asked, waving his hand in her general direction. 

“Of course,” you told him, her ethereal presence highlighted with gentle pastel colours, her body on display as she wept on the large tree roots in a way that could only be described as elegant. Eve was one of the first of many scapegoats throughout the teachings of the Bible, and yet, not the first woman to have been cast from the Garden of Eden. Another painting on the opposite side of the Chapel depicted that first woman; Lilith.  

Secondo turned around, again guiding you by the hand to the other side of the large Chapel where her painting resided. Her scene showed her expulsion from the Garden of Eden long before Eve was created from Adam’s rib. Lilith was Adam’s equal, his first wife, born of the same soil as him. And yet, because she didn’t obey Adam, she was cast out.  

Again, this was how the Bible would describe Lilith; rogue, disobedient and evil. But this was merely a patriarchal fantasy, her story twisted and moulded into a lie through generations. Truthfully, Adam believed Lilith should lie beneath him during the marital act – sex – but Lilith had disagreed, stating they were of the same soil, the same earth and were equal. She should not have to lie beneath him at all. That is what got her cast out of the Garden.  

In her scene, she looks freed. There is no weeping, no remorse. She looks strong and independent, marching her way towards the fallen Angel known as Lucifer to begin her work with him; as his equal. Her painting is a triumph, and she looks as beautiful as you had always seen her.  

“And what do you notice here?” Secondo asked, his tone still so calm and tranquil, how he always spoke of his beloved art.  

“I... I see Lilith, marching towards her truth and forging her own identity.” 

“And she looks beautiful too, does she not?”  

“Well yes, of course,” you agreed without hesitation, but you were confused as to his point.  

“These women – these two symbols of our very existence – do you notice what they have in common, amore mio?” 

“Adam’s betrayal,” you scoffed. Secondo smirked. 

“Well, sí, sí, but... I mean to look beyond the meaning of the scene itself, and look solely at them, their form.”  

You looked behind you back at the painting on the other wall, scanning Eve before turning back to Lilith to find the similarities. But you were at a loss. Different hair colours, slightly different skin tones, different coloured eyes. 

“I don’t follow?” you admitted, feeling a little silly for not understanding.  

“You say they are beautiful, sí? And of course, hai ragione (you are right). But,” he stopped, stepping closer to the painting and reaching his fingertips out to trace the nude body of Lilith, having you look closer. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper, and said, “their bodies, amore... Do you not see?”   

His fingertips continued to trace the artwork, every beautiful curve of Lilith’s figure, unashamedly thicker like her flesh would ripple if the painting came to life. Secondo looked back to you, a softness in his eyes as he watched it dawn on you. You’d never noticed before, never questioned it but now that you were looking around at all of the artwork in the chapel, you noticed more and more that the prominent women, the ones whose beauty and power are marvelled within your religion, looked like you... 

Your eyes glossed over with emotion; how had you missed that? The very essence of beauty, and their bodies were nourished, full and spectacularly curvy. They were voluptuous and had always been revered throughout time as soft, feminine figures of power.  

“These paintings, amore, were all commissioned by a painter known as Peter Paul Rubens. Do you know of him?” he asked, turning his back to the painting to stand in front of you, still holding your hand. You shook your head, pressing your lips together in the fight to keep your cheeks dry. “He is very famous for how he painted women. He enjoyed the larger women; more of them meant more beauty to paint. And people worshipped the women in his paintings, fawned over them. He became so famous for his portrayal of beauty, that there is a term for a thicker, healthy, beautiful woman such as you, mio dolce...” 

He took a step closer to you, his free hand brushing strands of hair you’d let fall to conceal your face away behind your ear, so he could see you in all your beauty. The softness in his eyes he reserved only for you forced a stutter in your pulse, seeing the adoration he never tried to mask since the moment he’d met you when you joined the Ministry months ago.  

And then he leaned forward, his hand slipping to the back of your neck to keep you gently in place while he brought his lips to your ear, and whispered, “Rubenesque...” 

Your hand squeezed his in a visceral response, something you couldn’t control. Secondo lingered there, completely consuming your personal space as he was always so welcome to do.  

“Dolcezza, you have been mia musa since the moment I laid eyes on you. If I could not have you, then I knew I at least needed to paint you – over and over again, if you would allow me.” As he spoke, the hand holding the back of your neck began to trail down your spine, making a beeline for your waist where he gripped a handful of your body and gently squeezed. “You instantly reminded me of all of my most treasured art pieces, an amalgamation of the strength, power and elegance of all the women in paintings I had studied for decades.” 

He dropped his chin to press light kisses to just below your ear, still whispering his adoration of you as they travelled over what little skin was exposed. 

“When you walked into this Ministry, I was so sure you had walked right out of a Rubens painting, that you could not possibly be real.” More kisses, his lips tickling your skin with every word in between. “That you had somehow been sent here for me alone. And then...” more kisses, his chest now pressing against you while your hand in his at your side tightened in arousal, “you indulged me... You sat for your first painting, so shy and timid with the most intoxicating pink blush to your cheeks. I tried to remain professionale, to focus on the art but... my mind wandered so freely.” Just like his hand was now. From your waist, it wound its way around your hip and down your thigh, pushing back to trail up the back of your thigh to the swell of your buttocks.  

You cast your mind back to that first sitting, before Secondo had truly shown any interest in you. You assumed you were simply sitting for a painting, that he asked various people to do so throughout the Ministry. And whilst he had on the odd occasion, it was never for a piece as intimate as that...  

He’d been so gentlemanly in his invitation, setting up part of his studio with a chaise longue and allowing you the time you needed to feel comfortable. He’d left you to undress and replace your clothes with a robe, shown you how he had pictured your pose and then allowed you your privacy again to disrobe and drape the chiffon fabric across you in a way that made you as comfortable as possible. There was no requirement to be completely on display – his only request had been that you were comfortable showing as much of your body as you chose.  

“If I had thought before then that I wanted you, the way that I craved you after that moment, mia musa...” Secondo’s voice remained low and deep as he stepped around you, keeping his lips hovering by your ear as he took up his position behind you. He dropped your hand in his in favour of holding you steady by your waist, softly gripping at the flesh there. Naturally, you sank into him, pressing your back to his strong chest and extending your neck to allow his lips to ghost over the skin.  

“It was truly a test of my self discipline to have you sit for me. But I had just been gifted the most beautiful art to work with and I was petrified to lose it if I had made my move then. And then...” His arms wrapped further around your body, strong, paint covered hands sliding around you like boa constrictors. One arm crossed over to grip the opposite hip, while the other, crossed your chest to knead gently at your breast. “You made me fall disperatamente innamorato di te (desperately in love with you.” 

Your head was swimming with Secondo. All of this, you had known to some degree but to hear him truly spill confessions while his hands were all over you felt like the most erotic experience you’d ever encountered. His breath felt hot against your exposed throat, radiating through your entire body and setting it alight. All you could do was cover his hands with your own and get lost in his touch.  

“I remember the first time I touched you, amore... The smallest, most innocent of touches... During your third sitting, I had to angle your chin to match the work in progress and you were so soft...” If you didn’t know any better, you would think Secondo too was lost in his imagination. And that he was, his eyes shut as he touched you, recounting those early memories with you. “Your eyes were so wide, glistening orbs of innocence and nervousness. I could stand it no more... I had to have you. I had never needed anything so much in my life, dolcezza... To taste your lips, to feel how soft you were beneath the fabric.” 

You remembered the way he’d looked at you in that moment, like he was fighting for his damn life inside his head to keep away from you. He’d stared at your lips for too long, and when he’d met your eyes again and saw no hint of you backing away, he had lost his control. That was the first time Secondo had you.  

The hand kneading at your breast travelled further up your chest to your neck, his thumb reaching to tilt your chin up towards him so he could look you in the eye. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, desperate to keep him close.  

“Satan himself blessed me with a woman such as you, mia musa...” he breathed with hooded eyes as if he were drunk on you, and without giving you any time at all to argue or respond in any way, his lips came crashing down on yours with a lust that neither of you had ever felt for another soul in all your years.  

He held you upright when he felt you melt too far into him, succumbing to his kiss with ease. You couldn’t help yourself, consumed by his very being and already so tightly wound up from his teasing touches and admission of the extent of his obsession with you. This man was as desperate for you as you were for him and it didn’t matter if you understood the reasons why or not; you simply accepted then and there that he was, that to him, you were the most beautiful creature to have graced his world.  

Lips and tongues clashed together without rhyme nor reason, moans lost to each other’s mouths as you lost yourselves also. His hands roamed your body as he held you against him, his grabs a little harsher, needier now. You could feel his hard chest and soft stomach pressing tightly against your back, a bulge that had long since begun stirring nestling between the cheeks of your backside. You could feel that heat inside you building to unbearable temperatures, the need to have him doubling with each second that passed.  

Using all the strength you could muster, you ripped his hands away from you just enough to spin in his arms, gripping him by his shirt and pulling him into you for another heated kiss. In an instant, his hands were back on you, fisting handfuls of your body as he pulled you tightly into him, his chest rumbling low in satisfaction.  

“Secondo...” you moaned, his name coming out as a whisper against his lips.  

“Sí, mia musa?” He nuzzled his nose against yours, leaving brief but frequent kisses to your lips as he waited for you to speak and tell him what you needed from him.  

“Take me to bed...” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him again, “Please?”  

Secondo chuckled devilishly when you asked so sweetly to dive headfirst into sin. Knowing what you were truly like when he would have his way with you, he always found it so amusing that you were so polite and demure otherwise. He revelled in the idea that it was only him who saw your untamed side.  

“To bed, dolcezza?” he questioned, teasing his fingertips along the edge of your jaw until he was low enough to tilt your chin up to him. “But we worship right here, in the Chapel, no?” 

The smirk that spread across his face sent a shiver of delight down your spine. Was he suggesting...? 

Before you had any time to question him, he began walking backwards, gripping your hands in his to pull you along. He pulled you through the pews to the centre aisle, then began to back up towards the Sanctuary steps that lead to the Altar at the head of the Chapel. As he did, he jolted you closer, attaching his lips to yours and carefully manoeuvring you both while he stayed attached to you, keeping the burning embers of arousal stoked.  

When he reached the steps he spun you around, pushing you to step up them until he sat you down on the middle step. Then he dropped to his knees on the stone as if he were about to pray at your feet. He crawled his way up the steps between your knees, forcing you to lay back as he hovered above you, his hands all over your thighs like he couldn’t bare not to touch you. 

“One day, mia musa, I will paint you naked as the Dark Lord intended, laying on these steps...” he promised, his lips tickling yours as they barely grazed them, teasing you. “And I intend to draw from memory...” 

With that, he pushed the hem of your habit up and over your thighs, fingertips pressing into the supple flesh as he enjoyed every inch of you. He popped the buttons that hid your chest from him, pushing the fabric from your shoulders and arms until he could drag it all from your body, helping you to shimmy from the skirt and kick it from your legs. He was wasting no time at all, attaching his lips to your collarbone and suckling marks into the skin while he worked quickly to take your underwear from you too until you were just as he’d wanted you; naked as the Dark Lord intended. 

Just as his hands had roamed your skin, his lips now followed suit. Every inch of your glorious chest was being suckled at, nipped at, like a starved man. He was careful to pay close attention to your nipples, hardened not simply from arousal alone, but the slight chill in the air within the stone walls of the ancient Chapel. But with Secondo crowding you, riling your body up so, you barely noticed, heat instead continuing to burn from within.  

Secondo growled into your flesh at the sound of your moans, truly worshipping you like a deity. “Tu sei fottutamente delizioso (You are fucking delicious),” he roared, ripping his lips from your body only to attach them to yours again with hunger. As he lapped his tongue into your mouth, his hand disappeared between your thighs, heading straight for your core with no hesitation. He needed more of those moans and fast, wanting to hear you sing for him. He’d take your song over the choir’s in this Chapel any day.  

Just as he’d wished, you cried out into his mouth, unable to hold back as pleasure shot through your core the second his fingertips dragged over your clit. You fell back against the steps, your arms spread out either side of you onto the red carpet runner. Secondo chased you, never letting you get far away enough from him to not feel his hot mouth on you somewhere.  

“Tell me, amore mio, may I indulge in the communion wine?” he asked. You had no idea what he was talking about, too lost to the pleasure his fingers were giving you to put two and two together, but you nodded anyway; you’d let him do just about anything to you, the state he’d got you in so far. “Grazie mille,” he thanked, as if you would ever truly deny him.  

He pushed himself upright, only to crawl back down to the bottom step. His fingers lost contact with your core but just as quick as they had disappeared, his tongue replaced them. You couldn’t help but sing for him yet again.  

He kept his eyes on you the whole time, watching as you lost yourself against the steps. At this angle, he could barely see your head thrown back over the delectable sight of your wonderful body, and it only drove him further into ferality. You would never appreciate this sight as he could, watching your body as it moved in ripples with every sensitive jolt and contraction of muscles. He could see your responses to his tongue all over, like echoes emanating from your centre.  

When he inserted two of his fingers inside you to compliment the work his mouth was doing to your clit, your head jerked up, eyes meeting his. Seeing the hunger in his eyes peeking above the curve of your stomach had you clenching around his fingers, a fresh wave of arousal dripping from you. Immediately, you felt Secondo lap it up, humming at the taste while his eyes fluttered shut.  

“S-Secondo... I...” You wanted to tell him how incredible you felt, how close you were to your undoing already but the words never came, stuck in your throat thanks to his fingers curling inside you to hit the spot he’d memorised that first time he’d slept with you.  

His free arm wrapped its way around your thigh, pulling it over his shoulder to surround himself with you. He loved that feeling, being encased in your gorgeous body as he pleasured you; he’d easily lose himself there. As your moans grew louder, reverberating off the stone walls, Secondo seemed to muster more energy to barrel you towards your undoing. What was fuelling him, you weren’t sure, but you were more than grateful for it. Perhaps it was the anger from before at the comments of your peers. Maybe it was the thought of defiling you on the Sanctuary steps. Maybe he had riled himself up so damn much talking about how much he adored you, how attracted to you he was that he couldn’t help himself.  

The only thing you knew for sure, was that he was making good on his word; he was worshipping you.  

It took mere minutes for him to have you dangling on the edge of sanity, your moans so high pitched he knew you were about to snap. He watched you again, his eyes staring up at you. It wasn’t until you looked down at him again and made such exquisite eye contact that you snapped, too turned on to hold off anymore.  

Your body convulsed as your orgasm hit you, back arching from the steps beneath you, body shaking. You gasped, lungs filling with too much air and stopping any sound from leaving your body. Your eyes rolled back into your head, completely overcome as Secondo didn’t let up. He knew better than to slow down now, letting you ride your orgasm out. He ground your hips into his face, using that delicious nose of his to his advantage until he was completely buried in you, smudging your inner thighs with his face paints.  

As you came back down, your body twitching under him, he made sure to clean you up, lapping up every drop of your essence he could despite your whimpers of oversensitivity. You reached a point where your clit was just too sensitive, throbbing under his tongue, and you had to push him away from you. But you hated the idea of rejecting him in any way, and so you dragged him back up to you by his collar to smash your lips to his breathlessly. You didn’t miss the flavour on his tongue, knowing that was your essence only driving you to absolute distraction...  

“You’re... wearing... too many... clothes...” you told him between kisses and deep breaths. He only grinned into your kisses.  

“Mi dispiace, amore,” he apologised with a smirk, immediately rectifying the issue as he untucked his shirt from his slack, unbuttoning the buttons and throwing it to the side with your habit and underwear. You couldn’t help but lay back on your elbows on the steps, watching as he undressed, enjoying the view. Such strong arms, a solid chest, and a soft stomach, all deliciously covered in a layer of black and grey hair; arousal began to stir again within you... 

“I am supposed to be worshipping you, amore mio...” he smirked, a cockiness glinting in his eyes.  

“I'm not stopping you,” you teased, spreading your legs a little wider and arching an eyebrow at him in invitation. As he threw his slacks and underwear to the side, you caught him licking his lips as his eyes dragged over you, waiting for him on the steps...  

Unholy shit, you were sublime, with your flushed cheeks and forehead glistening with sweat... With your beautiful curves and soft skin... He would never tire of you. Never.  

He couldn’t help himself then, crawling over you and dipping his head down to initiate yet another moment of passion with a sordid kiss. It seems he was unable to keep his hands to himself, wanting nothing more than to feel you, but more importantly, to make sure you knew he wanted you. After today, all he wanted was to make you feel wanted, appreciated, fucking deified. He was certainly doing his part.  

The longer he made out with you, the more you needed him... You could feel his length pressing against you and it was driving you mad being so close, yet so far from what you wanted. To encourage him, you reached your hand between the two of you, wrapping your fingers around his tip and paying particular attention to the frenum piercing of his you loved so damn much, sitting on the underside of his cock.  

At your touch, his lips parted, a low hum vibrating in his throat. It was as if you were taunting a beast within him, the animal poised and ready to pounce. And pounce he would, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them to the steps above your head.  

“You want my cock, dolcezza?” he teased, his lips so close but just out of reach no matter how far forward you tried to lean. “So keen to be fucked on the Sanctuary steps, eh?”  

He wouldn’t let you answer, instead shuffling so he was lined up perfectly between your legs, rolling his hips against you to coat his shaft with your essence. You could feel the ridges of his veins and that fucking piercing at they caught on your clit, still sensitive but the stimulation bearable now.  

“Worship me, Papa...” you whispered the order, catching him off guard. His eyes widened for just a moment, and there was no way he could deny you...  

Trapping your wrists in one of his hands, he used his free hand to guide himself to your entrance, sinking into you in one fluid motion. Secondo breathed out a long breath through his nose, humming again as your heat consumed him. You felt everything, every ridge yet again, filling you deliciously in the way his fingers never could. They were no match for his thickness and length, reaching places you’d been unaware of before him.  

When every inch had sunk deep inside you, his hips pressed flush against your own, he dove into you for a deep, hungry kiss. Like he couldn’t stop himself, his hips dragged back and slammed into you, the slapping sound echoing through the Chapel. And after that, he wouldn’t relent, repeating the same motion over and over again, slamming his hips into you as he grunted his pleasure into your mouth.  

Eventually he let your wrists go in favour of grabbing at your body again, kneading it like pizza dough with love and adoration. You held his head in place, whimpering into his kisses every time his cock slid inside you. He lifted your thigh to his hip, deriving a better angle to rock up and hit where you needed him.  

“Sei la mia opera d'arte preferita, una cazzo di dea che prende vita, (You are my favourite artwork, a fucking Goddess come to life,)” he spewed his words quickly, his brain unable to translate to English quick enough to spill his thoughts. You understood him just fine, his confession having you clench on his length. He roared in pleasure at the feeling, barrelling toward a climax.  

“S-Secondo please...” you begged, “’m gonna cum again.” 

“You’d better, dolcezza. I will not leave mia musa unsatisfied on the steps, eh?” he promised, the hand that was kneading at your breast dipping down to press flat against your stomach, fingertips digging into the softness and thumb dragging over your clit again.  

It didn’t take much now that he’d added more stimulation, and you were coming undone in no time at all... Your walls clenched around him so incredibly tight, body curling up into him until his face was pressed into the crook of your neck, his chest cushioned by your voluptuous body. You spluttered out a litany of curses and his name like a chant at Black Mass, filling the Chapel’s empty hall.  

Everything became too much for him too, biting down on your neck and growling into it while his rhythm faltered, and his cock shot load after load of his spend deep inside you. His grip on your body tightened, pulling him closer to you as the two of you shook and convulsed from your respective orgasms, overcome with pleasure.  

“Y-You are a dream, mia musa...” Secondo panted above you, removing the hair stuck to your forehead with sweat and tucking it behind your ear. “Don’t ever forget that, eh?” You could only nod, your mind still very much hazy in post-climax bliss.  

“I couldn’t give any less of a fuck what the other fottuti idioti (fucking idiots) think of our relationship, you understand? You must never forget, you are the beauty standard to the greatest artists in history,” he assured you, peppering gentle kisses to your neck, your cheeks, your lips – anywhere he could.  

“Including you,” you complimented with a smirk, catching his gaze with heavy eyes, drowsiness overcoming you. Secondo chuckled, shaking his head.  

“Including me,” he repeated, “If you say so...”  

“I do,” you told him earnestly, “Nobody has ever made me feel as beautiful as you do when you paint me, my love.” You cradled his head in your hands, fighting the urge to curl in on yourself out of shyness.  

“Ah. Then I simply have to paint you more... What a shame,” he teased with playful sarcasm, a grin spanning across his very smudged face as he leaned in to plant a slow, loving kiss to your lips.  

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Beef

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Requested : "Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?" EDIT: I saw this same request being written by another writer and I want to say, don't send multiple writers the same exact request. I find this super disrespectful.

This one took some turns of its own while writing, I hope it's to your liking!!

When his group first came to the community you were excited. Finally you'd have a real huntsman around to share experiences with, you had missed it so bad.

Before the fall your family owned a shop, your father a butcher and your mother a taxidermist. You and your siblings learned every skill from hunting to skinning, prepping and using each part of the animal so none would go to waste. You hadn't hunted in so long, you weren't sure if you still could hunt succesfully. Even now you'd donate large, strong antlers and bones to the blacksmith in Hilltop to use in weaponmaking. You donated the furs you didn't fashion into items yourself to the seamstresses and prepped each type of meat for meals.

But somehow the new hunter didn't take the shared interests as something positive.

He brought you animals, yes. But never without throwing a judgy look around your workplace. Even when he came in with someone else who'd compliment your clean work he'd only scoff, dump his kills and head back out.

"Sheesh, what crawled up his ass?" The large moustached man laughed. You only shrugged as you lugged the deer behind your counter. "Hell if I know. Ain't digging it out tho. He seems to be doing okay with everyone except for me.." You returned the laugh while the man who's name slipped your mind helped you put the deer on your workbench, only to quickly drop the fake smile and leaning against your workbench.

You thanked him with a sigh and he gave you that look that told you to spill your thoughts.

"Fine. It sucks he's so weird. It'd be awesome to have a partner to do all of this with and to go hunt with." You busied yourself sharpening yuour knives, clearly still annoyed by the whole ordeal. "And..?" The long winded drawl made you roll your eyes at the man's persistance.

"And he's drop dead gorgeous, okay? There. I said it. I have a crush on the man. Happy no-- Ah fuck!" Your knife hit the floor with a clatter as you grabbed at your bleeding hand.

"Alright, up and out withya. To the doc we go." You were led to the infirmary and passed the source of your annoyance on the way.

Not that you were listening, but you still caught his voice in passing. "Damn folk 'ere don't know how ta do shit." You caught his glance in your direction and if you weren't busy keeping yourself from bleeding out you'd confront him.

It was a clear message that you weren't allowed to use the injured hand for your work and risk pulling the stitches, and honestly it just hurt too much to do anything with it. It sucked even more than having to leave your old home behind. There were people counting on your work so they'd have food.

It didn't stop you from going to work and doing as much as you could one-handed. You got there extra early to make up for the extra rime everything would take now, and by the time you'd normally open you found Deanna on your steps, greeting you with her usual smile. "I knew you'd be here stil working, but I brought someone to help until your hand is better. You shouldn't be overworking yourself."

As quick as she had entered she had left again as well, leaving you with your new work companion.

The hunter.

"Good morning." You gave him the kindest smile you could, but were only given a grunt in return as he tossed a bundle of tied up small game on your desk, rounded the corner and fished for a knife to start taking them apart.

Besides you explaining where to put all the different parts of the animal you two barely spoke, until the snap of bone pulled you away from your focused work of skinning yesterday's deer. "The hell?" You turned around to go see what he was up to.

"What are you breaking bones for?" His station was a mess, he pointed at the difficult point he was cuting along. "Easier ta reach without the bone in the way." Without even looking he continued. "Ya should know tha'. Damn city girl doin' mah work."

Again with his snarky comments. You shrugged it off and went back to your own station. Yiur bkood bloiled but you weren't gonna let him get to you, you had work to get done. "Try not to do that, we can still use the bones if you keep them whole."

You tried so hard to focus on your work, skinning the deer with only one functional hand was so difficult and even though you were having extremely conflicted feelings about it you still had to ask him for help.

"Can I borrow your hands for a minute? Can't do this on my own."

You held the large deer up and moved it as Daryl cut away the skin in the most choppy manner, creating a clear line where you stopped and he started. "Can you please work a bit mote delicate? That's gonna take me ages to clean up." You huffed from keeping the deer in place, but also annoyance. Why didn't he work like a hunter? He must know the code, right?

"Why're ya so on mah ass 'bout how I work? Gon' toss it out anyways. Just need the meat, tha's it." He got snappy at the end and you just stared at him, anger clear in your eyes. "Seriously?"

You let go of the deer and stepped away from the counter. "You're sent to MY shop. To help me because I happen to fuck up my hand for the first time ever since I got here years ago and all you can do is talk shit about me?" The knife that laid on the desk before now in your good hand and pointed at his chest. "God I can't believe I even fell for your hunting woodsman charms. You're just an asshole who doesn't give a shit about these animals or the hunter's code." With a clatter the knife hit the floor as you tossed it to the side with shaking hands.

"Get the fuck out of my shop and go find me someone who cares." With angry steps you turned around and headed out of the room, needing a break to gather yourself first if you wanted to get anything else done.

Now alone in the workstation, Daryl snatched up his catch from this morning and headed out.

~~

"You did what? Pookie you gotta listen to the girl." Carol sat down next to him and snatched the cigarette from his fingers. "You know you disrespected her life's work by now following her rules in her own shop, right?"

"I'on get why tha's even important anymore. We gotta eat, tha's all." Daryl's annoyed grumbles did nothing good it seemed as Carol continued to scold him like he was a child. "Did you for one second maybe think this work is all she has left to hold onto her old world self?"

"Cept this ain't the old world no more. She's waistin' time doin' all tha extra shit."

Carol was up and at the front door by now, putting out the cigarette in one of many ashtrays there. "Alright, up with you. You're apologizing with me right now."

The two took off to your shop but found no one there. Daryl's half finished rabbit still out in the open on the table while the deer was gone. "Ain't here. I'll head back tomorro--"

"No we're not. I know where she lives, come on." Carol practically pulled him along on the way to your place despite Daryl's protests.

You were working in your basement area when you heard a knock on the front door. "Come in!" Everyone who came to your place knew the door was unlocked and was free to come and find you, seeing you were either cooking, working on lounging when you kept the front door open.

"Hey, it's Carol! Heard about your hand, need some help around the house?" She needed an excuse to get an answer and find out where you were, so when you called back she knew to head downstairs.

Meanwhile Daryl just stared around to keep his mind busy. He found rabbit skins from prey he brought in wrapped around a pair of boots. He recognized the fur seeing it was a rare color. Further into your livingroom there was a deer pelt draped over the back of your couch. Also caught by him. The white spots over the back had one small flaw from where his bolt had struck right on a white dot. He remembered being proud of his aim for a minute that day.

"Daryl, come on." Carol's whisper-yell had him roll his eyes and as he passed your coatrack he noticed the hooks were all antler parts and the knives laying in the basket on the hallway table had bone handles.

So that's why you were so angry when he snapped the rabbit's leg and skinned the deer so carelessly. You did really use everything.

The two walked down the stairs to your workshop, Carol up front with Daryl following.

"Oh wow," Carol's exclaimation had you laugh. "Yeah, I get that a lot." You stood with your back turned, struggling to hang a piece of skin.

"Here, lemme help ya." Daryl's gruff voice was suddenly right behind you and you spooked, letting go of the pelt but Daryl caught it just in time, draping it over the wire. "Like tha?" His hands stayed up there and adjusted it to your liking, having stepped back to watch him and give Carol a questioning look. She just shrugged and gestured at the man who was again staring around the room. "What brings you here?"

Daryl looked at everything except you, he knew he'd lose all ability to speak if he did. Hell, he already had a difficulty getting his words out now seeing how wrong he was for not listening to you. "Came ta say sorry." He stared at the basket of furs labeled 'Donate'. "Shoulda known better than ta get angry. 'N I get why ya work thr way ya do now." Next to the basket sat a crate filled with thick, sturdy bones labeled 'blacksmith'.

You nodded and gave him an option. "Come back to the shop tomorrow. I'll have tou clean up that deer skin you almost ruined and you're following my teachings. I'll forgive you for wasting the rabbit."

Daryl chewed at his thumb, the other hand stuffed in his pocket and fidgeting with the fabric inside. "Yeah, alright." He nodded and looked over at Carol who had the brightest smile on her face. One that screamed victory.

"We'll get out of your hair, I'll bring by some lunch tomorrow at your shop." Carol waved on her way up, and just as Daryl was about to follow her you quickly spun around to grab something. "Oh, here." You held out a thin knife wrapped in leather, a small engraving of Hilltop's blacksmith on the handle. "I saw you took the rabbits, so if you haven't prepped them yet you can try this one. They're great for smaller animals."

He stumbled over his thanks as he accepted the knife and quickly headed out after Carol.

~~

You were back at work early the next morning, painkillers and a small breakfast in your system already and hoping to finish that damn deer. It still proved a challenge to get it from the cooler onto the workbench but you managed eventually, just before Daryl came in.

"Mornin'." Hid gruff voice sounded through the workplace as he rounded the corner and placed the knife from yesterday on the table. "Thanks fer lettin' me borrow it. Worked like a charm."

You picked up the knife and held it out to him again, only to recieve a questioning grunt in return. "It was a gift. To keep."

Daryl never got gifts. Everything he had was scavenged and well taken care of for longer use these days. It felt weird to keep it but he thanked you again and pocketed it.

Meanwhile you had grabbed the deer skin and laid it out where he'd be working. "Look here, I'll show you how to clean this up and you'll go fix the rest, okay? It'll take a while but it'll be worth it." Daryl stepped up to you and observed the way you took the knife to the uneven spots of skin and carefully smoothed it all out. The precision in your work was impressive to say the least. "How long've ya been doin' this?"

You dropped a cut off piece of meat into a plastic container and thought back to the old world. "I guess ever since my parents thought I was old enough to handle knives." You held the tool out to the hunter and watched him take it from you. "Your turn. I'll be hopefully finishing that deer so just ask whatever, whenever."

You were lucky a lot of the cutting could be done onehanded, and holding back pieces was okay enough to do with your wrist or hold something down with your elbow. But now that you had all the easy access meats off and seperated you ran into a problem.

"Fuck.." You needed help. The same kind of help that had you kick him out yesterday.

"Sup? Need hands?" He was at your side in a second, waiting for your instructions.

"I need to take off the ribs but I can't." You leaned aside to point around the carcass. "If you can press down here, and there." Daryl followed your instructions and put pressure on the spots you pointed out. "Then I can take this here apart." Your movements were followed and suddenly it was way too hot in your always cold workplace. Yesterday you'd be happy if he decided thr Kingdom was a better home for him but now that he apologized and proved to better himself after your misunderstanding you were back to being the lovesick puppy Abraham had made you out to be when he brought you home after the infirmary visit.

With how Daryl held the spot clear and open you had to get close to chop through the bone and separate it all in workable bits.

"Can I take one a'those later? Michonne asked ta cook fer her kids cuz she's out 'n Carol's off ta Kingdom--" "Throw the kids an old world barbeque! I'll come help. I'm sure you're skilled in roasting over an open fire with how much you traveled." The excitement was clear in your voice, and the sudden compliments and offers of gifts and assistance had him nervously fidgeting. But thinking about having a fun experience with the kids instead of just cooking and having dinner sounded way better than his original plan, so he agreed.

"Ya got supplies ta fix tha' in half a day?"

~~

The two of you cleaned up after finishing thr needed work and while you carried the prepped meats, Daryl had the bowl firepit on a kart together with the metal rack to hang over it. Yeah, he lived in a community now but he never guessed he'd be carrying around a whole barbeque setup like he was getting ready to throw a party in the old world. "Gotta drop by tha' house fer a sec, get Jude 'n RJ."

After he got the kids and you had everything set up Daryl got the fire started while you made a quick pantry run and dug through Daryl's kitchen for anything to add to the meals.

You brought whatever you found and set it on the side of the porch steps, keeping a path to the house cleared and sat yourself down in the front lawn as you watched uncle Daryl in action, letting the kids toss wood onto the fire and poke at it with a stick but making sure they kept their distance and wouldn't touch the hot metal.

It was heartwarming to see him laugh and have fun with them and watched him speak quetly to the kids with a finger pointed your way before the two came running towards you.

"Daryl says the fire's good for food! Can we put some on the thing?" Two pairs of big, begging eyes stared at you and saying no would be the worst so of course you allowed them, under surveillance and with an assisting hand. "Alright, pick something you wanna eat first and put it on a plate, Daryl will take it to the fire and I'l helf you put it on the rack, okay?"

A chime of "Okay!" baely left them before they were at the collection of prepared meats where you and Daryl joined them in picking.

While Daryl roasted the food over the fire you were tasked go keep the kids busy, but wirh hoe much they loved chatting about everything and anything it was an easy task.

The whole evening was fun and food and family and it reminded you of everything you missed in this new world.

Everything was good in this moment, especially when you heard a little exchange between uncle and niece.

"Uncle Daryl? Can we have more dinners with her? But also mom and aunt Carol next time." You watched Daryl look towards you for a moment before turning back to Judith. "'Course, she's teachin' me ta prepare food so we can do this with e'ryone if ya want. But!" He raised his hand and pointed at RJ, who came over to him too now. "Yer gonna be the ones askin' folk ta bring food too, so e'ryone has somethin' ta eat, 'kay?"

The two happily nodding kids proved that your time in the community just got a lot more fun.

Now, after the kids were long brought to bed you and Daryl stayed around the fire. Having taken the meat rack off and set asidr you were just relaxing and picking away at the leftovers.

"So," you started, watching the flames in front of you. "That community barbeque plan of yours, it sounded amazing especially how you brought it over to the kids. But, aren't you afraid it'll drain recources too quick?"

Daryl shrugged it off. "Maybe. But those kids'll make folks keep stuff aside fer it." The idea of those two running around the place collecting people brought a smile to his face. "'Sides, I ain't wastin' meat no more with yer lessons tha' I hope ya will keep givin' me."

Oh. He wanted to stay? At the shop? With you? You were pleasantly shocked with that news. "What? Ofcourse I'll teach you. But only of you promise to take me out hunting when my hand's okay again."

He let out a breathy laugh and nodded. "Yeah, I'd love ta have ya around."

You stretched and laid down in the grass, looking up at the night sky.

"S'gonna be fun."

[strewwwberry]

I'm obsessed with shen yuan being shen jiu's reincarnation for so many reasons

- finding out would lead to many mental breakdowns

- shen yuan being a born hater is suddenly explained

- shen yuans and shen jiu's personalities are actually very similar when you take away external factors:

Shen yuan is a hater and tends to do before thinking, especially if that's insults, so does shen jiu

Shen yuan gets oddly obsessed with things, so does shen jiu

possiveness in shen jius case would be learnt behavior from having nothing, which I can easily imagine shen yuan doing the same if he grew up with nothing (which he very much didn't experience having been second gen rich kid, which even having at the very least material things, he still shows signs of posseviness with Luo binghe at times, and again, even with his internalized homophobia!)

Being weird with relationships, im not elaborating

Trust issues brought on from ASSUMPTIONS, these motherfucks assume so much! And I can't even blame them because their assumptions make so much sense in the context they're given! But give it a bit more thought alongside action outside of just asking since they clearly love men who struggle to communicate (well done binghe for growing in that aspect) so thats just a no go

So much more tbh, and I'm not even doing this in a theory way because these two being parallels is probably (don't quote me on this coz I actually love this theory but also don't care enough to defend it in any way and them being parallels is a kinda gut wrenching shit I need lol) more canon accurate, with like everything that I'm not gonna get into rn or I'm gonna cry so sue me (don't actually, I'm broke)

But yeah I love this concept smm!! Which I find funny coz I'm a scumcum lover, sy is sj child/sibling/twin/parent/disciple/shizun/probably more, and I dunno what that says about me nor do I care 😙

Edit: also sqq(j/y) hating himself and not realising it is a different kind ironic I can't quite explain except to say its so amazingly angsty to a point is goddam hilarious

[glowsticcc]

and that’s all i needed death fam hc lesgo

whole family dresses like they have a hot topic sponsorship, including tallulah, except it’s more the cottagecore stuff (except when she’s in emo mode, in which case she just goes full linkin park)

missa smells like death, but not in the cold, smelly rotten way, but warm, like sleep or the roses set on top of a gravestone (it’s one of phil’s favorite things about him)

missa and chayanne both have brown and heterochromatic eyes respectively, skull masks just make your eyes blue (personal design) (sans undertale???)

after missa was recognized as her father, tallulahs puppy dog eyes got 5 times more effective (wet cat trait is hereditary)

she taught chayanne and now they team up to make phil get them whatever they want 🌘^🌒

even if they all go to sleep on their section of the bed, they always wake up piled on top of each other 

chayanne got the “taller younger sibling” curse, and while insisting it’s because tallulahs horns make her taller, face to face he’s looking at her chin

missa is tuned to phil’s laugh, and if they are in a crowded room and he hears it its like that one clip of asap rocky hearing rihanna laugh during an interview 

chayanne smells like lemons. i have no reasoning for this but i know in my heart its true.

phil will just absentmindedly play with missas hair if their talking and close enough 

phil taught the kids how to swim, his hollow bones give him a lot of buoyancy 

in physical combat, tallulah and chayanne are always at each other’s backs, fighting in almost perfect sync with each other 

head bonks as shows of affection 

missas more of a cuddle bug and phil’s like one of those big dogs that you could push over and they’d be happy with it. phil could be having a separate conversation and missa would just come up from behind and snuggle him and phil wouldn’t bat an eye 

if i think of more ill add more in an edit yippee

[d0llcuries]

Hi! girl I loved "𝓣𝗐𝗈 𝖿𝗅𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖺𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌" so much, thank you so much for writing you're so talented!❤️ (a part two would be amazing)

I have another request, what do you think of headcannons about what it would be like to live with the sully family having a relationship with neteyam? like something really fluff with him and the whole family that would be so sweet!

HOME IN HIS ARMS

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: living with the sully family hcs

author's note: crazy how this request is how i find out i suck at writing hcs ദ്ദി(ㅠᯅㅠ) i didn't eat this one up i'm so sorry. buuut part two of lying has to stop will hopefully make up for my tepid work 😮‍💨

edit: also thank you guys sm for all your kind words regarding my writing ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ they mean sm to me

the mornings start slow with the sun filtering through the woven walls of the tent, a soft, golden glow warming your skin. the air smells like dew and wood, a scent that has become as familiar as his arms around you.

you wake first, always, because he sleeps like someone who’s at peace now, like he doesn’t have to prove anything in his dreams. but still, his breath is steady and warm against your neck, his tail loosely draped over your hip like it’s forgotten its way in the night.

the whole place feels like it’s still sleeping. except for tuk. tuk’s always awake too early, her little feet running over the floors leaving you wonder where she gets all that energy from.

breakfast is a collective effort. neytiri hums under her breath, her hands steady and practiced, moving through routines you’re still learning. jake’s already outside, half-joking, half-serious about how he used to enjoy quiet mornings before the chaos of a family like this one.

neteyam never leaves your side during these times. he’s always close, a hand grazing yours or his tail flicking out, brushing against your leg, as if checking to make sure you're still there, still his.

kiri pretends not to notice, but you see the soft smile she hides. lo’ak doesn’t bother pretending, he rolls his eyes and makes a snide comment that only earns him a quick shove from neteyam.

everything about the sullys feels like being folded into something much larger than you. they’re loud and they’re loving, and they’ve accepted you as one of them, in ways that don’t need words.

there are nights when you sit around the fire, the warmth of it dancing across your skin, neytiri’s voice lifting in stories you’re only just starting to understand. neteyam’s hand rests on your thigh, grounding you to this moment, to him, to everything that matters.

his siblings tease him for being so devoted, but you know they’re envious. there’s a quiet admiration in their jests, like they can see just how deeply he loves, how he holds you like something precious but strong at the same time.

the way he looks at you, sometimes, it feels like you’re more than just a part of his world—you are his world, the center of it. it’s a heavy kind of love, but he carries it so lightly, so naturally, like it’s the only way he knows how to be.

tuk always finds her way into your lap by the end of the night, her small body curling up against yours as if you’ve always been there. shes fallen asleep there more times than you can count. her trust in you is something you’ve earned over small moments, little glances, the way you’ve caught her when she stumbles, the way neteyam watches over her when he thinks no one else notices.

you learn to braid each other’s hair, sitting with neytiri as she laughs softly, a rare sound that feels like sunlight, and it’s in those moments you understand where neteyam got that laugh of his—the one that’s all warmth and safety and home.

there are nights when the two of you sneak off, because even in a family this close, you need time alone. he takes your hand, pulling you through the trees, both of you laughing quietly as if you’re kids again, like you’re the only two people in the world.

he holds you in the quiet, his breath against your skin, his hands firm but gentle. there’s a reverence in the way he touches you, like he’s still amazed you’re his, after everything, that you chose him too.- and maybe you don’t say it out loud every time, but you feel it—this is home, in all its loud, messy, chaotic glory. the sullys are your family now, and neteyam… neteyam is everything.

you think, sometimes, about how you used to imagine love would be. you never thought it would be this simple, this easy. you never thought it would feel like breathing.

at night, after the day has worn down, when the fire has died low and the stars press close, it’s just you and neteyam. he pulls you into his arms, his chest solid and warm against your back, and it’s like the world outside doesn’t exist anymore.

sometimes, he’ll whisper things in your ear, soft promises about the future, about how he’ll always be there, how this—you and him—is forever. and you believe him, because he’s never given you a reason not to.

you find yourself thinking that this is what love is supposed to feel like—not some grand, sweeping romance, but something steady, something sure. it’s in the way he holds you when you’re tired, the way his family makes space for you without question, the way the forest feels like home now that you’re with him.

there’s no rush, no urgency in your days together. it’s like you’ve both found your rhythm, the steady pulse of a life lived in quiet harmony with the world around you, with each other.

and when he kisses you, it’s always slow, always gentle, like he has all the time in the world. because he does, and so do you.

[2d-reality]

Little Things (The Greedy Secondborn)

characters: Mammon, GN!MC navigation: Lucifer | Mammon | Levi | Satan | Asmo | Beel | Belphie content/warnings: little things you do for the brothers, out of love. fluff. established relationship (implied you are dating all seven brothers equally with the exception of mammon whom i love more) word count: 584 notes: Each brother has their own part, linked above. I am still my own editor and I loathe editing, so please forgive any mistakes!

But even you can only stand so much of his klepto tendencies. He’s good about your most precious things, for the most part. Once, when you were still new to the Devildom, the heirloom necklace you had been unceremoniously transported with went missing. It was the only piece of home you had left, aside from your clothes, and you weren’t proud of the breakdown you’d had when you’d discovered its absence. You were so caught in your grief, and anger at every one of your newly-minted demonic housemates, that you didn’t notice the absence of your guardian for nearly two full days. 

It’s no secret you baby Mammon. Even, and especially, when his brothers make his life a little more difficult with their sibling antics. The prickly behavior certainly lessened with you around, as any off-color comments are immediately met with a harsh glare and sometimes a short word of admonishment. 

It was Asmo who returned your presently most prized possession; you’d been so relieved to have it back that you’d kissed both his cheeks through tears, uncaring of how it had returned to you and unaware of Mammon’s soulful eyes peering from around the doorframe of your bedroom. You had noticed he seemed out of sorts over the coming days, but chalked it up to his avoidant tsundere behavior. If you’d known back then he’d swiped it, in a moment of unawareness, gripped by his sin as he so often was, you might never have forgiven him. 

Your relationship had evolved since then, and you wouldn’t dream of being cross with him now, especially if you learned that he’d hunted for your necklace, shook up every fence he had connections to, levied a hefty charge on goldie with the curiosities dealer that ended up with it, and weathered the lecture from Lucifer as a result without a word, all to see it returned to you. 

He’d been much more careful with the things you held most dear since then. He’s more observant than anyone would give him credit for, especially regarding you, his shining jewel. But you knew that he was as much a victim to his sin as his brothers, and you had learned to cater to it, even if you didn’t know about his crusade for your necklace. 

Lucifer (at least partially at the behest of Diavolo, you presumed) had established an allowance for you. You, ever independent, picked up shifts at the local spots when you could to earn your own money, but you wouldn’t lie, having a little extra to keep up with the elite (which you could forget the brothers were, at times) was nice. It was also nice to have a couple extra grimm to stuff in a pocket, or a drawer, for Mammon to take when his fingers got a little sticky. He ended up spending at least some of it on you, anyways; a popup cafe, a second dessert at lunch, a trinket that reminded him of you. He would vehemently deny being so sentimental, but the twinkle in his eye when you graciously accepted whatever treat he gifted you and returned the favor with a kiss twice as sweet was enough evidence for you. 

If he knew you were purposefully leaving it in the same places every week, and never commented on the hit to your budget, he never mentioned it. You never said anything either, happy to make his life as easy as you could. It was no secret, after all, that you baby Mammon.

[fanofthelamb]

lovely art you make please never stop!!!

WAAA TOO SWEET. thats it. MOREEEEEEE ART DUMP!!!!!!!! im not sure how many of these i posted but!! i think mostly it's all new!!!!!!!

I wonder if this'll become a thing for me. BAHAHAH

scrapped ref page i've made before ^^^^^ it was similar to nari's except it turns out the red's color jitter was too extreme.... the grren was AMAZING tho. Comments with the pieces btw!! and 30+ pics I think?! So expect a long ass post. :) this isn't even all the unposted art, just the stuff I thought was good enough to post!

First thing's first! How about a comic I never posted? I was kinda embarrassed by the writing of it, but this WAS just something to help Rue. (You might notice a lot of the art in this thread was sent to Rue and never posted. Sorry Rue. little of this is new for you. sone is tho. orzzzzz)

Woah? The lamb has feelings? The lamb has bad feelings about their past?? Who knew. Shocker. (also LMFAO AT NARI IN THIS HE REALLY SAID "oh ur crying? I'll give you a reason to cry")

something to kind of help storyboard out the animation i'm tryna work on. its not going well. turns out that shit is hard.

and some beyond the grove narinder. yall eat BTG nari UPPPPPP.

speaking of BTG? how about some panels of a future page? Chapter 1 still. feel free to laugh at how strangely i draw the draft. ti works for me!

back to normal nari. IN PANTS!!!!!!!!!!!

THIS isnt actually a drawing it's a real image taken of me and rue

i dont know if i posted this or not, actually. i am not a big fan of it, though.

i need to draw leshy and val more </3

idk if i posted kalladad either BAHAHAHAHA

also, i dont know if i posted THIS either. i dont SEE it but i could be wrong ?

now how about a couple of kissing booth scraps?

long with the scrapped comic where narinder kills and eats the face of the goat. </3 rip that thing (the goat LOVES fighting and LOVES someome who can beat thier ass almost as much)

and some heket bullying her brother (she wuvs him tho)

i dont know which acc i posted this to, actually. i drew this bc rick kept reposting halflife shit BAHAHAHH

oh and here's a vent piece or two i made with annona. they seem harmless enough to post i guess? i wish i made more content with them.

i jsut wanna chew them between my molars like a marshmallow.

this si also sometihng i made for rue BAHAHAHAHAH HAVE I POSTED IT? IDK.

and of course, the least toxic totally-not-abusive-as-fuck pairing of lamb and the red crown. this isnt exclusively BTG related but I dont know how much interest people would have with him being a character on FOTL? he is 1000% having his own role as his own charavter in BTG though.

oh, and this guy i wanted to post forever ago, but i needed time to adjust to his design. this is the best i have made of him and it might be what sticks. he's leshy's uncle. (took worm baby in after both his siblings went missing)

more nari, because he's my most popular scrumplie. probably bc i draw him the most and a lot of my stuff is nari centric. nude nari because i literally couldn't think up what i wanted to draw on him. i was gonna edit clothes on later and forgor BAHAHAHA

i actually dont know if i posted this too? this is tyar and baal <3 baal was pretty shocked to have learned vitas was tyar's spouse. he's still not ready to talk about it, but he does want to ask the lamb about it one day.

and some childhood memories i never finished.

i MIGHT have posted this one ?

i posted pieces of this page but here's the full:

[daemon-in-my-head]

Past Life Dark Urge Asks - 9th Edition:

OK but how does Durge actually view relationships and romance?

What does their room look like? Describe it to me. Neat? Messy? Organised mess where everything has its place?

What's their favourite spot to hang out at after a long day of temple managing and murdering in Father's name? Is it by the altar, their desk, a certain someone's office or by the docks?

Gorion's Ward was a hero and a Bhaalspawn that defied Bhaal. But they're also a powerful person who rose far above many, as well as the reason Sarevok once returned. What does Durge think of them? Is he an idol or a villain to them? When did their view of them change or do they perhaps even feel pity for the sibling which had been led astray?

Durge loves efficient killing, but what was their one little indulgence whenever they did it? I don't mean getting loot, keeping trinkets. Did they perhaps draw out the hunt or play with the mouse unfortunate enough to fall into their trap?

There's this funny bit that Durge refused to clean themselves, but is it true for yours? Did they indeed always carry the scent of entrails or did they bathe regularly? After all, Bhaals Scion has a reputation to uphold.

Speaking of Water, Baldur's Gate is a Port City. What did Durge think of the sea? Did they long to sail or do they prefer solid ground beneath their feet? Did they feel any connection, or was it just a body of water, perfect to drown some innocent souls?

Durge is clearly a skilled master of their craft, but would they ever consider taking an apprentice? Perhaps they already did? Or would they absolutely detest those who yet lack skill and prefer they attain it on their own?

Orin makes for a great spy and even the Bhaalist Temple relies on intelligence to survive and operate more efficiently. Did Durge ever try to help out Orin in attempts to gather intel? What was it like? Did they charm their way into hearts and minds, or did they rely on the thing they did best, a skillful killing?

Bhaalspawn are pretty similar to Aasimar in every aspect, well except that Aasimar are children of celestials and good aligned powers while Bhaalspawn hail from the Lord of Murder. What did Durge think of their goody-two-shoes counterparts?

Bhaal is widely hated or feared, as are Bhaalspawn, but what does Durge think about that notion? Would they hunt down anyone who dares speak I'll of their father, or could they not care any less? Do they perhaps revel in that fear and hatred?

If Durge knew they'd lose all their memories in the future, what would they think? Would they weep for their treasured moments or perhaps even feel delighted about forgetting a dreaded past?

Name a personality trait of theirs which is, in theory, something great, but they've taken it to such extremes it became something negative.

How is Durge handling failure? Do they handle it at all or do they just refuse to acknowledge any?

Would Past Life Durge like for their life's story to be told and remembered? Why or why not? In what way would they have liked it to be remembered?

In general, how does your Durge cope with stress, life, and the things that happened? How did it affect them? Are there any lasting effects from an outburst once?

On a scale of 1 to 10, how easily does your Durge snap? 1 being the world could end, and they'd barely be mildly inconvenienced, and 10 being somebody looks funny in their direction, and the next minute, they're in a nasty brawl.

What is their favorite spell? It doesn't have to be one they themselves know or learned. Just a spell they think is neat, handy, cool, etc.

If there happened to be a street fair in the Gate, would they attend? Yes or no, who would they go with, what would it be like visiting one of those with them?

Bhaal was a netherese arcanist. Does Durge, considering they're made from Bhaals flesh, consider themselves to be netherese? Have they ever thought about these things or do they simply not care?

I totally forgot I had these I'm sorry lmao. They've been rotting away in my drafts the whole time.

[milksnake-tea]

Dunno if you've ever answered an ask like this before, but do you mind telling us about your mutuals?

Rather, their writing styles and how they interact (No pressure if this sounds like I'm intruding on a boundary or something, I've noticed that you reblog a lot of works and I'm trying to find more fic writers from HSR and Genshin to support, but sometimes it feels a little scary 😅)

HELP NO IT'S OKAY !!! no fear in asking, we love people like you <333 these are mainly the mutuals that i've read fics from so that i can actually tell you how they write but still. THIS IS GOING TO BE A LONG ONE STRAP IN FOLKS. if i forgot ygs im sorry oops... also sorry for the tag COUGHS (esp to the ppl i keep tagging when i get asked abt my moots BYE kawa skip mhie naru ren im so sorry i love you i swear)

@generalsmemories

NARU !!! ONE OF MY FIRST EVER HSR MOOTS AND ONE OF THE WRITERS I LOOK UP TO THE MOST. her writing style is very scenic?? if i were to describe it, it's very dreamy and whimsical and it's like reading a fantasy book. very descriptive but not so descriptive that you're eating fancy words. she's jing yuan centric but occasionally writes for others such as dan heng and sunday! she's honestly very very silly when it comes to interaction, like in an older sister way <33 she talks like an aesthetic if that makes sense

@inarvii

skip has a very elegant feel to her writing like LORD. it's giving noble/fantasy thriller enemies to lovers but in a writing style i love her prose and how she really makes you feel the vibe of a scene. she's really kind and sweet, gives older sister vibes lowkey

@k9wa

kawa is like me but x497842389 cooler and with a lot better grasp on characters. you want proper characterization? you want big brain ideas? GO TO HIM. his writing feels theatric, like a movie or a play. it's so descriptive and he does an amazing job at describing action and characters and GRGRGRGR

@luvether

lord i dont know if its okay to tag you but uhm. hi waves hand 😭😭 honestly i haven't interacted w kou much but from what i can tell she's really nice!! BUT I HAVE READ HER WRITING. AND LAWRD. her writing feels like little snapshots of life, you feel like you're actually like. THERE. she always has the biggest brain of ideas i swear and i highly recommend her writing. mostly fluff with a touch of angst, one of my favorites fr !!

@emiken-070907

hi emi. bet you didn't expect to get tagged here huh. but you have one hsr fic and that's enough for me to slap you onto here and promo you (it's on ao3 and it's not an x reader, but it is a tragedy yanqing timeskip!!! i beta read for that btw flips hair (i still need to edit im so sorry emi please)). as for interaction, she is silly asf. TO ME PERSONALLY? shes like the ratty little sibling that you want to throw out the window but would also kill for. has great vibes over all, she's so sweet but sometimes shes a lil shit so. yeah. idk how she acts to followers but she is like that to ME. but she is full of whimsy and glee so there's that

@rainswept

edgar allan poe incarnate over here??? HELLO??? crow is. her writing is RAW. like okay this is going to get a bit gorey but they write like a freshly opened wound, it's vulnerable, it's poetic, it's pure imagery and i LOVE it. also another goofy moot. i think like just attracts like atp

@tragedy-of-commons

gwen is an absolute SWEETHEART. very silly. BUT THEY'RE SO SWEET. her writing is literally sunlight put into literary terms, if that makes sense. it's warm, comfy, and cozy (except when she kills you in the arms of your favorite character. which she has done) and i highly recommend her writing for a comfy read <3

@iceunhie

mhie is a HATER OF THE HIGHEST ORDER jk i love her she just bullies me GOODBYE 😭 mhie gives off older sister vibes, a lot of people (including me HELP) see her as intimidating but she's really sweet once you get to know her. or she calls you milk. who knows. ANYWAYS genuinely one of the people i look up to most, she always gives amazing feedback on writing and her own writing??? the prose??? she's a master at it. knows how to really elevate a piece and it's just really easy on the eyes. she's also a research writer, her jiaoqiu fic utilizes chinese proverbs and terminology and i think that's really neat <3

@st6rly

hi bottom beta. okay wait sorry you have a reputation i forgot ANYWAYS. SOL IS SUCH A SILLY GOOSE. i love him. BUT HE IS SO GOOFY AND I MEAN THAT IN A POSITIVE WAY. i haven't read that much about what sol writes unfortunately since i'm no longer interested in genshin that much 😭😭 but i've heard good things !! definitely someone you wanna check out if you like good vibes :D

@lowkeyren

ren my pookiebear my LORD !!! resident aquila favonia haver (she has like 21 as of right now) and she serves every time she writes. always gets slapped onto my rec list because she's one of the few writers that genuinely have me kicking and giggling 😭 really cute, really tension filled, one of my favorite authors :))

@scribs-dibs

SUNNIII true to his name his writing feels just so warm and light, like a slice of life anime. very relaxing reads, at least from what i've seen !! very warm, really really cute <33 like the main one that ive read from him is that alhaitham jealousy fic and??? the characterization was ON POINT. i loved it so much (the switch up made me laugh) as for personality. HES FUNNY. LIKE HES STRAIGHT UP HILARIOUS I LOVE HIM GO CHECK HIM OUT I SWEAR ITS WORTH IT

@akutasoda

q has a very pretty vibe if that makes sense, i haven't read much from them but i can definitely say that their writing style is beautiful, like a meadow full of flowers or a quiet stream. they've always been kind to me in that sort of older sibling way, and they're someone that i would trust as an emergency contact. lots of genshin and hsr from what i've seen on my dash, so definitely go check them out!

@aviiarie

avery's on the more reserved side, at least from my point of view, or maybe that's because when i first met them they had a ferminet pfp. they're pretty chill and casual, and can i just say? their writing is very easy to read, it has great flow and i can just lose myself in the fic. like i don't see the words i see what the words are saying, if that makes sense. avery also focuses on platonic writing, although they have been writing some romance with furina!! my personal favorite work of theirs was that fic of arlecchino comforting her crying child because it made me feel so much better about my life at 9 am when i just woke up.

@vynicity

FELICITYYYY she's a mutual in my heart even tho apparently tumblr thinks i dont follow her. but i do. ANYWAYS. another person that i consider on the more reserved side, but she's been fun whenever we talked. can i just say. SHE IS SO GOOD AT WRITING AVENTURINE. there's this one fic down the line about him being drunk??? i think??? and I ATE THAT UP because the tension and atmosphere that she managed to create. just magnificent. she has an aventurine series up right now iirc (i still need to read the new chapter im so sorry feli) and the prologue was. a roller coaster so definitely go check her out!

@vxnuslogy

vee is literally bursting with ideas and by god does she put them to use. i always see them brainrotting or thinking of new ideas or things to write, literally one of the most creative people ive met. can be a little silly, but still a sweetheart <33 her writing is more formal than what i'm used to i'll admit, but still a delight to read nevertheless <33 very descriptive is how i'd describe it, like it feels like she's looking at the scene as shes writing it

@ughscara

ayame is like. the sweetest person i have ever met. like ill be here being a little shit and she'll still be an absolute sweetheart I ALMOST FEEL BAD BECAUSE SHE HAS TO DEAL WITH MY ASS BYE 😭😭 i just recently reblogged one of her works and it straight up feels like it came out of a fairytale, it was so light and sweet <33

[teufelsabbiss]

what if Shěn Qīngqiū's misandry leads to an all female Qing Jing peak?

Story idea: Time-travel fix-it I never saw before

So, either Shěn Qīngqiū dies after he was tortured by Luò Bīnghé or has visions of what will happen, and wakes up to a second run shortly after becoming peak lord of Qing Jing. The usual. But!

Big changes are due! No men/boys allowed on Qing Jing peak anymore!

Shěn Qīngqiū's reputation as a lecher causes all other peak lords except Yuè Qīngyuán to be outraged by this declaration. Even worse, this is yet another unreasonable demand the newly appointed sect leader acquiesces to.

Most of the old hall masters hate Shěn Qīngqiū enough to leave the sect anyway, so there are only female instructors left and new trained up. The older male disciples never get appointed to a high rank and are kicked out or leave once they are ready and the younger male disciples are taken in by the entirely too helpful sect leader. He's only ever choosing girls at the entrance tests. Within a relatively short time-span Qing Jing has turned into a second 'all female peak', with the peak lord as only exception. Maybe he even drags in girls that were born in the brothel or sold to them.

Shěn Qīngqiū is more relaxed than ever. He doesn't hate any of his charges and his disciples adore their strict, yet doting shizun in turn. (*After Shěn Yuan replaced Shen Jiu in the book he gave out head pats en masse and everyone was eager to get those. Well, all girl Qing Jing has even more of that now, even though it's still the original goods in charge!) It's totally normal and accepted to hug their shizun or trail after him while clinging to his sleeves etc. (Ning Yingying hugged his waist in the book, I think it's fun and reasonable to make her behavior the standard for other female disciples.)

This is obviously cause for more bad rumors, but Shěn Qīngqiū dgaf.

Peaceful sleep and not being around people he hates is doing wonders for his health and cultivation too. Almost everyone outside of the peak is weirded out by the positive attitude changes. The good mood doesn't survive extended contact with his martial siblings, but gets at least better again as soon as he's back on his peak.

There's countless attempts at catching Shěn Qīngqiū red-handed while molesting his poor disciples that all amount to nothing.

If one wants to get further with this, maybe one girl is bold enough to confront Yuè Qīngyuán and kick-starts the truth getting out. She'll obviously be the new all-time favorite baby-girl forever. Better cultivation and resolved heart demons could make him successfully save Liǔ Qīnggē.

(Luò Bīnghé being on another peak could go better or worse, though, depending where he ends up. Bai Zhan is not exactly friendly to its disciples...)

But anyway, what if Shěn Qīngqiū's misandry leads to an all female Qing Jing peak? That has potential for comedy and nice stuff.

(*edited to clarify a confusing point)

[ozzgin]

Prehistoric! Reader going trick or treating with Baki and the twins or something ion know or prehistoric reader and pickle seeing someone dress up in that blow up dinosaur costume please tell me you know what I’m talking about 🌚 anyway love ya stuff

I was wondering how to make everything Halloween themed, and then I thought this would actually be a nice opportunity to bring Pickle home instead. Everything would be decorated as if it came straight out of the Cretaceous. Everyone shows up as a particular dinosaur. As the idea hit me I became very nostalgic and remembered my favorite Disney movie, Dinosaur. So I made it a Dinosaur Halloween. :’)

Baki Headcanons: Prehistoric! Reader goes Trick or Treating

Special Halloween Edition 🎃 featuring the Baki characters and our recurring prehistoric reader! Also the kids.

[More Prehistoric! Reader]

It’s Spooky Season and Baki wants to introduce the prehistoric family to the ghoulish fall holiday. Truth be told, however, he’s not quite sure anymore just how much of the effort is for the twins and how much is for his own enjoyment. He feels like a little child once more, giddy with excitement as he plans costumes and activities.

Honestly, it’s rather impressive how involved the fighters are. Then again, how often might one have the chance to witness ancient humans reacting to modern celebrations? You’re not entirely sure what all the agitation and shuffling is about, but the men have reassured you the kids will enjoy it. Pickle himself is also terribly curious.

Baki has gone as far as to convince multiple people to actively participate, so when the time comes most of the men are costumed themselves. He guides you and Pickle by the hand and the twins are running around you in circles. (Professor Payne has, by the way, exhausted all praise regarding their fast motor development) What better place to improvise a haunted house, if not the beloved Underground Arena? Doppo Orochi is waiting at the entrance in a T.Rex costume, holding the head under his arm. He found the idea terribly funny, attempting to recreate his first encounter with Pickle back at the enclosure. You immediately recognize the suit and chuckle at the memories. As the twins surround the older man in awe, it dawns on you that they never had the chance to see an actual dinosaur. The smile you had earlier is now tainted with a pang of melancholy.

Following Doppo’s train of thought, Jack has attempted to reminisce his sneaky trespass with an aquatic theme. You won’t catch him dead in an actual suit - where would he even find something for his massive size? - but nonetheless he’s improvised a t shirt with a Mosasaurus print. The children’s attention is now drawn to him. He exchanges a glance with his younger Hanma sibling and reveals a bag containing mysterious garments. Jack excuses himself briefly, retreating with the twins, and brings them back shortly afterwards. Except this time they seem to be wearing some squeaky appendage filled with air. Both you and Pickle observe with raw fascination. It looks like they’re riding a small dinosaur, but their actual legs are underneath the strange costume. Pickle claps his hands, impressed.

Inside the Arena, Retsu and Katsumi are putting together the final details. There are tables overflowing with food, sweets, drinks and carved pumpkins. There’s an eerie atmosphere coming from the decorations, yet the overarching theme is not of the horror realm. You stop in your tracks and your mouth hangs open in surprise. There are artificial trees and ferns scattered all over, making the arena look like an actual jungle. Among the greenery you can discern the outline of a massive Argentinosaurus, its long neck reaching just below the ceiling. A small pack of feathered Velociraptor cutouts is placed further ahead. It looks like they’re chasing something. As your eyes follow the scene, you spot an injured Pterosaur, dragging its large wings behind. Everything is static, a snapshot frozen in time, yet you can almost hear the wailing croaks and the shuffle of the claws hitting against the ground. You can suddenly smell the moss, and feel the humidity on your skin. For a mere second, for a fleeting moment, you’re home.

Something jolts you back to reality and you notice Pickle’s hand on your shoulder. He has a worried look on his face and you realize you’ve been tearing up. It’s nothing. You shake your head to reassure him and his eyes narrow in a smile, similar to yours. He’s been thinking the same thing. Your ears are abruptly pierced by a shriek and both of you turn back in a panic. The kids are screaming in excitement, running away from Baki that seems to be imitating a Triceratops. Katsumi comes to their defense, squatting low in his costume resembling an Ankylosaurus. A fitting choice that allows him to showcase his powerful whip, using the clubbed tail of this sturdy, armored warrior.

“Pretty decent work, huh?” Old man Tokugawa approaches you and Pickle with a wide grin. “We can’t let the kids miss out, can we? I had a whole team prepare everything under the guidance of Professor Payne.” He hands you a small, empty bucket. You’re confused. “We might not have any real dinosaurs for you to hunt, but I’ll show you something similar. It’s called trick or treating. Let’s see what we can find in this fake jungle.”

[mxescargot]

Chinastuck: the beta kids

tl;dr for the uninitiated: what if all homestuck characters were chinese people

John Egbert: 光勇 (Guang Yong). Lives in Beijing (im sorry /j). Han, Mongolian, and some Korean ancestry.

egbert means "bright edge" and guang means "bright" and also sounds a little like john even if its the surname. john means god is gracious, which is not really a type of name chinese people give their kids so i just went with a common masculine name that sounds good with guang: yong, which means "brave" which i thought was fitting. i think dad egbert definitely calls them by the diminutive yongyong.

June Egbert might choose the name 小玉 (Xiaoyu), meaning "little jade", in reference to her sister.

Rose Lalonde: 刘秀兰 (Liu Xiulan). Lives somewhere in Jiangsu, probably Shanghai. Hmong, Jewish Han, and Kazakh ancestry.

i literally just went with a random common surname that vaguely sounded like lalonde here. xiulan means elegant orchid, so it's a flower name like rose and i think it fits her vibes. she shares the character xiu with roxy's name, tianxiu.

transmasc rose probably steals his name from a book character.

rose is very similar to canon i think, except she lives in a penthouse in central shanghai. i want to say initially she feels her heritage doesn't matter to her but later in life she tries to reconnect with not being "100% han".

Dave Strider: 赵大伟 (Zhao Dawei). Lives in Chongqing. Hmong, Jewish Han, and Kazakh ancestry (same as Rose).

zhao has a similar meaning to strider and was also a surname of the emperors so it has a connection to royalty. this works for both the lotr reference and king david. dawei is... a generic chinese boys name thats the name you give your kid if you want their english name to be david. it means "extraordinary".

david means "beloved" and every single chinese name like that is feminine. Dove Strider takes this as inspiration for the name Xinyan, spelled either 心燕 meaning "beloved swallow" or 心焱 meaning "beloved flame" instead of the more conventional 心妍 meaning "beloved beauty".

dave struggles with their cultural heritage more actively than rose does, and thus leans hard into their sichuanese identity. i headcanon them as making fun of chengdu (chongqing's rival in representing the cultural center of sichuan) in addition to making fun of northern chinese culture. SICHUAN RAHH

Jade Harley: 林玉平 (Lin Yuping). Lives in rural Shaanxi. Han, Mongolian, and some Korean ancestry (same as John).

lin has similar meaning to both harley and halley, meaning grove/forest. yuping means "peaceful jade".

Jude Harley might choose the name 洋 (Yang), meaning "ocean" in the sense of expansive, or he might not feel a need to change his name. swapping names with his sibling is also a possibility.

i think her upbringing just translates to the rural northwest well? also i think its kinda cool she'd grow up near a section of the great wall of china. i could see her engaging in cultural traditions like papercutting and folk singing :> also buddhist jade real and true im not projecting trust

thanks for coming to my ted talk be on the lookout for more posts like this ft me struggling with traditional characters and cantonese pronunciations

EDIT: @ask-chinastuck exists :)

[crazyyluvr]

Ahhhh that Jason fic was so good! I loved how you write him so stern and caring!

I was wondering if you could do another Jason fic where reader is sort of working herself weary, maybe she feels like she has something to prove especially with how powerful everyone is so she’s been volunteering for watches and missions and helping hedge and just everything she can around the ship and she starts to crack a bit so everyone tries to get her to take a break but she’s super stubborn and no one can except Jason on like his third try she finally gives in and rests?

(Like when he told Hazel to eat in your last fic, sort of that vibe it makes me weak in the knees!)

Overworked, Underappreciated (by the gods)

pairing: jason x gf!ares!reader

summary: Jason notices you're overworking yourself again, and despite him and everyone on the Argo II trying to tell you to take a break, you never really sit your ass down until he finally convinces you to do so.

genre: angst/comfort

wc: 2.6k

warning/s: cursing, fem reader, she/her pronouns, overworking, jason being stern, stubborn reader, mmm godly father issues, breakdown

note: thank you for your request anon!! i hope it's fine that i made this one kind of a continuation of this oneshot, but it can be read seperately. enjoy!

oneshot under the cut :: not edited

Jason always admired your hard work and determination.

Sure, you were constantly aggressive about it and telling everyone to fuck off if they complimented you on that, he still considered it one of the countless things that he loved about you.

But of course, there were times where that hard work and determination would lead to something unmanageable, like your tendency to overwork yourself.

You were an expert at hiding it, but Jason knew that beneath your tough and angry exterior, you always felt like you weren't giving enough despite giving a little too much already. You were a daughter of Ares, and your godly lineage didn't grant you much except for anger issues.

You weren't as good with weapons as your siblings. You definitely weren't as good at anything as Clarisse, your half-sister and your dad's favorite kid. Actually, all your other brothers and sisters had at least some sign that Ares acknowledged their existence. You on the other hand got nothing except that you could reach your boiling point seven times faster than the average person.

They have to thank Jason for being there to calm you down, because they all don't just feel like, but they know that if he wasn't with them, the ship would have sunk two days in the water or air.

They never really expected you to be the type to give all — and I mean, all your energy into whatever you need to do.

Replacing the ripped sails after a battle with some pirates? Step back. If not, you'd just push any one of them out of the way and grab the new sails from them and replace it on your own. Frank was a constant victim, despite being the burliest of them.

A large tentacle wrapped around the ship? They don't dare to think about chopping it into pieces before you came in, sword weaving through the monster like it was made of clay. Percy steps out from below decks to give the monster a little chat but slips on the blood it left in its wake.

Zeus/Jupiter decided to fuck around with them and send a lightning bolt striking almost right beside Percy? You'd immediately push him into the nearest demigod's arms and put out the fire yourself before the water boy could even process what was happening.

Even the simplest tasks around the Argo II, like cleaning the stables, rearranging the medbay, cleaning up the kitchen either after a meal or after the ship was constantly swaying and made a mess of fallen plates and food, you'd curse someone out just for trying to grab a broom or open their mouth to tell you that they can do it instead.

Jason was no exception to this treatment, and he didn't expect to be; he just wanted to make sure that you knew your limits as well as he did.

"You're low on medical equipment," Hedge grunted, stepping into the small dining room one afternoon while everyone was eating lunch. "I'm gonna go restock it."

Today was a slow day for the eight demigods, and they were grateful for it. All they had to do was the usual chores before they could chill anywhere on the ship.

Which is why no one was surprised you were the one who wanted to break the mundane routine. "I'll go with you," you huffed, standing up with your plate in your hands, maneuvering around the short half goat man to put the dirty dish in the sink. "I'll make sure your stupid fur brains doesn't get the wrong shit."

"Us satyrs are damn good healers, mind you!" Hedge bleated angrily.

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah with colored leaves and rituals and shit."

Before Hedge could retaliate, Annabeth stepped into the conversation. "You should rest today. I can go with Hedge and help him pick out the right items."

"No need, Brains," You shot her down. "I can do this. Are you suggesting otherwise?" Your voice raised threateningly, making Annabeth raise her hands in surrender.

"No, but I —"

"Good." You turned back to Hedge. "Let's go before you get more dirt on floor I just mopped, old man."

You left the room without waiting for the satyr to follow. Hedge muttered colorful insults under his breath, moving to exit the dining as well before Jason stopped him by asking, "Coach, can you watch over her? She's been working constantly these past few weeks, and she hasn't really caught a break."

Hedge rose an eyebrow. "Can't you do that yourself? Aren't you her boyfriend or something?"

"I tried, but it's hard to convince her," Jason sighed, leaning back in his chair exhaustedly. "Just — look out for her, yeah? And don't tell her I told you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Hedge waved him off. "It'll be my head."

The coach left without another word.

"I'm worried about her," Percy confessed, Frank and Piper nodding in agreement. "I tried asking her if she needed help yesterday, and she almost bit my head off."

"And you would've thought that she'd learn by now to stop herself when she starts to overwork again," Leo commented.

Hazel sighed. "If she doesn't give herself time to recharge, she's going to shut down."

Jason simply played around with his leftover food, deep in thought. "Yeah..."

—————

Thank the gods you returned without any issues besides the usual profanities exchanged between you and Hedge. He left soon after that, claiming that he had "business elsewhere," and said that they should get going on their journey without him.

They left the day after that. They knew he'd make his way back to camp eventually.

The streak of calm continued, even as the Argo II departed from the sea and launched into the air. There weren't as much monsters that showed up to annoy them like flies hovering in their ears.

You and Jason were on watch that night. Thankfully, there wasn't much of a threat in the clouds, so Jason just sat down on a random crate while you paced around, playing with the straps of your leather breastplate.

"Hey, you can sit down for a while," Jason said, watching you go to and from the large wooden post in the middle.

You scowled at him in response. "We're supposed to be on watch. If we relax, we fall asleep. If we fall asleep, monsters attack. If monsters attack, the others could get swept up in that shit knowing how stupid they are."

Your concern for your other crewmates was evident despite how much you tried to hide it by insulting their abilities.

"Sweetheart, its okay," Jason said, still trying to convince you. He wasn't feeling all that tired, which is why he could cover for the both of you. You, on the other hand, looked like you were going insane, the dark half-circles under your eyes apparent even in the weak and diluted moonlight. "You can for now. I promise I'll wake —"

"I can't rest!" Your voice cracked slightly as you whipped around to face him, your eyes wide with a wildness that caught Jason off guard and made him stand up in concern. "I... I just can't..."

You tried to walk away, but your knees collapsed from below you. "Woah careful!"

In a flash, your boyfriend was by your side, barely being able to catch you before you could fully crumple to the ground. "Easy, easy..."

He tried to put your arm around his shoulders so he could lead you to sit down on another crate, but you pushed yourself away from him. Being unable to support yourself, you fell down on your ass.

"What are you doing?" Jason asked, moving to approach you, but you put up your hand to stop him.

"Fuck off, I don't need help," you said, trying to sound angry, but all Jason could hear was your exhaustion.

"Hey, stop being stubborn," Jason frowned, stepping towards you and putting your arm around his shoulders successfully this time, despite your protests and your struggles to get out of his iron grip.

"Fine, just — just put me down there," You gestured to the crate he was sitting on previously. He was originally going to bring you down to your room, but judging from the glance you gave him from the corner of your eye, you could still snap his arm in half if you wanted to.

And so, he obliged, making sure that your feet barely touched the ground as he basically carried you to your destination. He gently set you on the crate, making sure to stand close in front of you so that you wouldn't try to bolt.

"Explain," he said, crossing his arms and peering down at you. You turned your head away from his gaze, and he realized how vulnerable you looked: your eyes were darting around in a desperate attempt to stay alert, but they constantly glazed over, unfocused. Your hands were now fiddling with the strings of your hoodie, their movements slow and groggy. Your upper body was even swaying.

"I..." You started, but sighed and looked up at him. "It's stupid."

Jason's brows furrowed even more at your dismissal. "You almost collapsed from exhaustion. There has to be at least a valid reason for you to compromise your health like that."

You wanted to clamp your jaw shut, but Jason's intense glare made you open your mouth and speak. "You want to know? Fine, I'll tell you. Everyone relies on me — besides Twitchy Fingers — to do what is needed to keep this ship afloat by making sure it doesn't get completely destroyed by the Tartarus-spawn. Every time someone tries to do my job for me, I don't want them to because what if they fuck up and something bad happens? That's gonna be my fuck-up too. I —" You looked away again. "I just can't relax knowing that some bad shit might happen and it'll be my fault."

"I think you're underestimating how well the rest of us can do," Jason said lightly, chuckling a little as he tried to make lift the atmosphere up a little. It didn't work. "We can't do as well as you, of course, but we can manage."

"Oh please, I know damn well how good the rest of you are," You hissed, catching Jason off guard with the anger behind your words. "You all got your own skill sets that your godly parents planted in you that you got to fucking nurture. Even Annabeth, who doesn't have any actual powers, is more of a smartass than all of us combined."

Jason opened his mouth to retaliate, to say that you're downgrading yourself too much, but you didn't let him speak as your voice rose. "And what in the Tartarus did I get from my shitty dad? Fuckin' — fuckin' anger issues, that's what I got. Everything I'm good at — my fighting, my speed, everything — I did that. Ares gave me none of that. That was all me.

"And the moment I thought he'd actually look at me, that he'd acknowledge that I was his kid besides when he claimed me seven months after I came into camp," Your voice got louder still, cracking a little as your eyes got mistier, "is to pay a little visit to Frank in his Roman counterpart."

You stood up now, your body fueled with anger and frustration and other emotions that can't be described. "You wanna know the real reason why I work myself to the brink of exhaustion every time I do what I do, Jason?" Your smile looked maniacal. The few tears that escaped the confines of your lashes didn't really help. "It's because I don't fucking deserve to stand among you. I don't deserve to be on this quest. I don't deserve to be called a 'hero' when we return home as your godly parents shower you with love and attention while mine just thinks 'oh, my kid survived? I had a kid involved?'"

Your body was shaking, but you were done. You fell back down on the crate, holding your head in your hands.

Jason blinked, processing your breakdown. His own chest was contracting painfully as the weight of your words settled in his brain and his heart.

You were feeling this the entire time? Why didn't you say anything?

Your body flinched as you tried to contain a sob, snapping Jason back to reality.

He sat down beside you and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. "Oh sweetheart," he sighed sympathetically. "It's okay to cry. Cry as hard as you need."

Jason expected you to push him off of you again, to tell him to not be stupid and to try and bottle your emotions up again. He hoped you wouldn't.

And you didn't. Instead. you took your face out of your hands and planted it on his shoulder, your own shoulder shaking terribly from your suppressed sobs. "Let it out," he cooed, and you didn't hesitate to drown your sobs on the fabric of his t-shirt, subconsciously moving even closer to his body.

He wrapped both his arms around you as he fixed his position, his upper body now almost fully facing you to give you more comforting hug.

He stroked the back of your head and whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you let all your pent-up anger, frustration, disappointment, and just overall sadness. He even planted light kisses over the parts of you that he could reach; your neck, cheek, temple, crown.

It took you a little while for your sobs to turn into little hiccups, but eventually, you were able to calm down. Jason didn't mind that his shoulder was soaked from your tears. He didn't mind that his spine was stiff from being in a slightly uncomfortable position for a period of time. He didn't mind that you were feeling weak and stupid.

Because even after all that, he still saw you as the strongest and most powerful person he knew.

"What about we go back to my room and rest?" Jason suggested softly. You lifted your head in protest, but Jason pushed it back down to his chest. "I'm sure Hazel and Frank are having trouble sleeping from the good nap they had earlier. They can cover for us."

"I don't want to burden them," You said weakly.

Jason immediately shook his head. "You're a burden to no one on this ship, okay? They won't mind. And besides, it's not weak to ask for a little help once in a while. No one thinks you're weak."

You looked up at him. "You sure?"

Jason nodded, smiling softly. "Absolutely. From what I can see, you're the strongest person here."

You raise an eyebrow. "You sure there's no bias there?"

"Yes I'm 100% sure," Jason said seriously, before breaking into a smile when a breathy laugh escaped your lips. You don't do it often, but Jason loved your laughs. They were always genuine, and Jason would do anything to make you laugh again.

"So, what do you say? Let's go to my dorm," Jason said, supporting you when he felt you moving to stand up.

"You better not do anything weird to me, Grace," you threatened, but there was no heat behind your words.

Jason smiled softly, leading you back below decks. "Never."

He left you in the dorm before he went to convince Hazel and Frank to cover their shift, promising that he'll make up for it. They didn't care. They were just happy that you were finally resting.

Once the blonde boy returned, he found that you were already curled up under the sheets, face relaxed and breaths coming out of you evenly. His eyes softened fondly at your peaceful and stress-free features.

He flipped the light switches, blanketing his room in darkness as he navigated under the sheets to join you. He gathered you up in his arms and curled against you, sighing in content.

"Good night, sweetheart," he whispered against your head, placing a small kiss on the back of it as he felt sleep slowly invade his vision. "I love you."

[2d-reality]

Little Things (The Prideful Eldest)

characters: Lucifer, GN!MC navigation: Lucifer | Mammon | Levi | Satan | Asmo | Beel | Belphie content/warnings: little things you do for the brothers, out of love. fluff. established relationship (implied you are dating all seven brothers equally with the exception of mammon whom i love more) word count: 503 notes: Each brother has their own part, linked above. I am still my own editor and I loathe editing, so please forgive any mistakes!

The Morningstar is not a morning demon. Every morning (or what could be equated to morning, when the moon hangs high and full regardless of the day or hour), he wakes before the rest of the House, with the occasional exception of Leviathan, who likely hadn’t been asleep in the first place, and Beel, whose stomach leads him to the pantry regardless of his level of cognizance. He is led by hundreds of years of ingrained habit to the kitchen, where he begins his morning ritual of making coffee. He feels as though he can already smell the warm bitterness as he drifts through the kitchen in a haze. 

Only, this morning, as he reaches for the handle of the coffee pot, it has heft. He comes to reality fully as he lifts it from the machine, realizing the warm smell wasn’t just his imagination-- the pot is full of fresh, dark brew. Stuck to the clock face of the coffee machine is a pale blue sticky note. 

Lucifer- Up early. Made fresh for you. Don’t work too hard. Love you! xo

It’s your handwriting. There is a heart scribbled after the note, and a simple smiley face. For a moment, Lucifer stands, dumbfounded by your sweet selflessness, and then his heart skips. Heat rises to his face, one that has nothing to do with the hot, fragrant steam rising to his nose. You had spent the night with Satan, which meant you had to have made some excuse to leave him behind when you came out to make this for him-- the fourth brother was the lightest sleeper of all of them, and he wouldn’t have let you go if he knew you were doing something for his eldest sibling. Lying to Wrath’s face wasn’t something anyone with a shred of common sense (or self-preservation) would do, but you had always been different. More often than not your brass confidence made him anxious, but he could let this go without a lecture. 

Trying to calm the rising affection for you in his chest proves more challenging when he sets the pot back to fetch a mug, only to realize that you had set one out for him. Not only that, but it was the one you bought for him on your last trip to the human world-- a silly ceramic one, shaped like a black ram with curling horns and a sigil painted on its forehead. Its comically large, sparkling eyes were ruby-red, like his. You had a matching one, a pink ram with a navy blue bow, a golden bell, and eyes like yours. 

Lucifer heaves a trembling sigh, struck by tingling love for you, and fills his mug. Lifting it to his lips, with one hand and a hip braced against the counter, he has to repress a harsh shiver as the sheer bitterness of it makes his nose crinkle. Despite the almost unpalatable taste, he revels in it. The hell coffee he makes for himself isn’t nearly as bitter.