#i think i might actually do an oil painting for him

[guksvault]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS | jjk

01 - the party

warnings: party party party, jk is a dickhead oops, drug/alcohol use, reader just wants to leave (someone help her pls), shitty parents, min yoongi is a saint <3

w/c: 2.9k

minorsdni!

✩ ₊ ˚. ⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊✧

Seven. That's exactly how many times you have passed the same shitty run down house at the end of a sketchy cul-de-sac.

The bass of music blaring which can be heard from streets away, the countless amount of people entering one after another, red lights shining through the windows.

Dressed in a pale purple Hervé Léger, direct from the archive of their 1996 Spring Summer collection. White pumps and a small Chanel handbag to match, you walk towards the door.

You stand in the line down the driveway, each person before you dropping a $5 bill into a tin bucket being held by someone who looks like they could have been hired to bodyguard you at premieres.

You reach to grab a note out of your handbag, offering a small awkward smile to the broad shouldered man beside the door.

"Nah, it's a tenner for you" He says, his eyes forward but his smirk on full display.

Truth is, you only had a hundred dollar bill to offer, couldn't remember the last time you carried anything less than.

Your face contorts slightly, knowing you don't look like the rest of the people who stumbled their way in before you or the people who will after you.

You drop the note down into the bucket, the man in front of you guarding the door watching as the clean note falls lightly on top of the crinkled fivers thrown in before you, earning you a scoff and a slight shake of his head.

You enter. Down a small hallway to an open living room space, the cheap LED lights taped to the trim of the ceilings painting the walls and partygoers in red. Black and white balloons covering the floor and the smell of burning cigarette and pot thick enough that you know you've probably lost at least 3 years of your lifespan for even stepping inside this shit box.

15 minutes and two shots of off brand vodka that hurts your pride more than your throat to down is more than enough time to realise that this has been a mistake and you need to leave.

Squeezing back through the overfilled crowd of sweaty dancing people, the exit getting closer. You think you can almost feel the air getting cleaner with every step.

Thats until someone grabs your wrist and almost yanks your arm out of its fucking socket to turn you around.

"The fuck?" you almost squeal.

"No fucking way, the fuck are you doing here?"

Min Yoongi. He rubs his eyes, double checking it really is you and not a hallucination from a bad batch of laced coke.

You don't look any less shocked in comparison, you actually came to this 'party' because of Yoongi. Knew he would be here, wanted to see him. That was until you had the very wise and smart realisation that, you, do not belong here.

"Fuck kid, what the fuck? Are you like? Lost?" He is almost laughing at you, before he stops. "Don't tell me they sent you here for me?"

It's been 2 years since you last laid eyes on Yoongi in person. 2 years since he realised what you are slowly beginning to realise for yourself about the reality of your life.

Yoongi upped and left his trust-funded, posh, shiny life 2 years ago. Parents didn't approve of him pursuing music instead of taking over the family oil business. Told him that if he even considered it he'd be cut off. Wasn't until his dick of a father took a baseball bat to his beloved sampler & sequencer for him to realise that he wanted outs.

"Actually came here on my own account" you almost gag out. "Not here to kidnap you back to your tower. Came to see you though, I guess?"

Yoongi's brows are pinched together so harshly in confusion that you think he might earn himself a permanent wrinkle.

"How the fuck did you find me here?"

Truth is, his big mouthed cousin after a bottle or two of red told you Yoongi was having a 'psychotic breakdown' and ran to the slums of Daegu after daddy said no to him for the first time.

Which was a surprise to you, because his parents had told everyone he was in the States taking care of one of their many overseas companies.

Only took you two more glasses for her to tell you exactly where he was and what he had been up to.

You shrug, "People talk, you know how it is."

You try to excuse yourself, but Yoongi isn't really in the departing mood. Can't believe you are here. Isn't going to let you go without getting you a little fucked up, wants to see you down something that he knows you would never look twice at due to the lack of zero's on the price tag.

Yoongi had you down 4 shots of vodka, you had been surprised to see a bottle of Grey Goose calling your name on the table that's filled with red solo cups and assortments of cheap alcoholic bottles. Until you downed it and realised it was in fact, not Grey Goose, just a bottle that was refilled with something that tasted like pure fucking burning ass.

Yoongi had almost pissed himself from laughing at you, the look of disgust on your face as you realised.

Two full red soda cups of vodka lemonades later and he was leading you to a corner of the house. Four beaten up leather couches created a somewhat exclusive area but still by the party, where a group of 3 men sat with girls beside, behind and on-top of them.

A small coffee table center of the couches. Covered in red solo cups, packets of cigarettes, rolled bills and tiny ziplock bags filled with coke.

You sit beside Yoongi, cup in hand resting against your lips as you take in the scene in-front of you. How the fuck was Yoongi living like this? Did he do this every weekend? Every night? Did he enjoy it?

"I want out Yoongs" You say, looking over your shoulder at him to avoid the daggers being sent to you by the girls dancing mostly for the other guys sat on the couch. You stood out like a pair of dog balls.

Whilst you are dressed in a pale purple fitted designer dress, white designer shoes to match. They are dressed in black mini skirts, bra's as tops, fishnet stockings that should have been tossed 5 holes ago.

"Hm?" Yoongi almost has to force his eyes off one of the way-too-fucked girls to look at you, "Oh, shit yeah, 'course, I'll walk you out."

You shake your head. Almost have to force yourself to say the next words out loud harder than Yoongi had to tear his eyes away from the girl shaking ass just an arms reach away.

"No. I mean, I'm done. With them, with the rules, the fucking fakeness. All of it, want out. Need out." Its the first time you've said it out loud, feels all a bit stupid now. If Yoongi ended up here, what fucking hope do you have.

"Oh fuck Bee, you for real?" Yoongi barely believed you, was still surprised though. Always known you to enjoy the lifestyle you were both raised in; boat parties, private jets to islands for a weekend getaway, never having a limit on what you wanted.

Bee. The nickname echoed through your head, almost drowning out the DJ in the centre of the living room blasting 'Baby By Me' by 50 Cent and constantly yelling for people to 'put their fucking hands up or get the fuck out'.

Bee. A nickname you scored when Yoongi gave you your first blunt. Found his fathers sneaky stash and dragged you to the river by his parents' Lake House one summer when you were 16. Felt good, until you got so paranoid that Bee's were swarming you, landing you with a new nickname.

"They want me married, like, married-married" You felt your stomach flip, swirl and turn itself inside out at the memory of the conversation.

"Honey, this could be really good for us. For you, too. Taehyung is a lovely boy, and we all know he's been in love with you since you guys were kids." Your mother sat opposite to you in the media room, a martini in hand.

Your father had nodded in agreement, "Think about it, his family owns the most luxurious hotel chain across the globe, you would benefit from it. We all would."

They can't be fucking serious. Surely not. Marriage? Me? Taehyung? Abso-fucking-lutely not.

"Taehyung and I aren't even a thing. He's a friend. I'm not marrying someone just because it would bring motion to your businesses."

A scoff earned from your mother, an eye roll from your father.

"What would Taehyung think? Both our parents putting us in an arranged marriage?" Your eyes dart from your father to your mother.

"He's the one who suggested it. Why do you think he's been visiting so often?" Your father cocks his eyebrow, almost challenging you.

You shake the thought from your head, feel dizzy, might vomit that cheap vodka that should definitely be taken off the shelves if you think about it any longer.

"Who's the newbie Min?" A voice calls huskily. He's sat on the couch to your left, a girl under his arm fiddling with the buttons of his loose black fitted shirt, sly smirks on both their faces.

He's sporting a buzzcut, two lines by his temple just a tad shorter than the rest. A blunt between his fingers and one tucked behind his ear, two dimples peeking out when he talks.

"Didn't have to hire someone Min, we got plenty of company round here." He smirks, his town low, too faded to bother speaking up.

"Fuck off Joon, don't be a cunt" Yoongi almost warns, lights a cigarette and speaks out after he exhales, "This is Bee, friend of mine."

"You ain't from these parts, hm Bee?" Joon speaks up again, passing the blunt off to the girl beside him who's still looking you up and down.

"Nah, do most of my whoring in the city." you retort, "Out of your budget though, sorry."

Your voice was dry, probably a tad but too defensive too. But, it's the first time anyones ever alluded you were a prostitute so, feels warranted.

Yoongi chuckles though, as does a pouty blonde on the couch to your right.

"Joon couldn't afford you even if you gave it up for free." The blonde speaks, eyes barely open due to the amount of whatever his substance of choice is he's had, "Can barely afford fuckin' ramyeon." He continues, only resulting in Joon pegging a lighter at him.

"Fuck up both of you, she ain't a fuckin' hooker. Grew up together." Yoongi says, leaning back into the couch but not before nudging your shoulder slightly.

You spend the next hour or so sitting stiffly on the worn and torn black leather sofa, mostly talking to Yoongi and occasionally the pretty blonde, which you have learnt goes by Jimin.

You watch Yoongi hit a bong, once, twice, thrice. Watch Joon's tongue dance with the girl's glued to his side. Watched the party roar on, balloons being slapped throughout the makeshift living room/dance floor. Drink 3 more cups of vodka lemonade.

Yoongi excused himself about 10 minutes ago, said something about a runner waiting for him outside. Jimin, who took it upon himself to keep Yoongi's seat warm had to tell you it was a dealer, not a jogging partner.

You wanted to take the Yoongi-free space to make your run for it, go home, really think about if you want to leave the life so many people would kill for.

Just your luck though, Jimin wont shut the fuck up, keeps talking about how you look like you belong in a museum in Paris, not a run down-seedy weekend hot spot in the slums of Daegu.

Charming and a sight for sore eyes, but you wish he would pop a Xanax instead of snorting a line and go to sleep so you can leave.

Yoongi returns, drops a black plastic bag on the table which earns a few 'fuck yeah's' and low whistles. Leaves just as quickly as he returned though, girl on his arm and straight upstairs.

And, that's your cue. The people sat on the couches surrounding you all enthralled by the black bag calling their names.

As you go to stand, the one person you've had no chance to sus out, shows his face. Sat directly opposite you, has had his head low the whole time you've been here. Girl on his lap blocking your view whenever he did lift it.

His sat upright now, practically pushed the poor girl that sat prettily in his lap once he saw the bag Yoongi dropped off. He's eyeing it like a juicy fucking steak and he's the lion, practically watering at the mouth.

A lick of his lips, extends his now visible tattoo adorned arm and dumps the bag on the table. Dozens of ziploc bags filled with coke.

You can't help but fucking stare. Think your mother would have begged him to be a model for her clothing lines. Gorgeous. A shaggy mullet framing his face, which he's now tying up into a small sprout at the back of his head.

Lowers himself to the floor, grabs a rolled up bill and a card. Carves out equal lines of the coke, you don't know anything about coke other than half the people in the high society you're surrounded by daily need it to keep themselves sane.

As you watch him intricately carve out the lines, like it was second nature, he moves one end of the rolled bill to his nostril, his other finger blocks his other. Snorts down the line. Pushes his head back and lets out an exhale that sounds like he's been holding for a year.

Then, repeats.

Can barely see the details of his face from your side of the couch, but can see the red lights reflecting off a lip ring that decorates his lower lip. Rubs his face and returns back to his seat.

This time though, his head isnt hanging low. It's pointed directly at you. expressionless, zoned out as he stares you down.

Jungkook noticed you as soon as you got here, actually, before that. Saw you pass the house twice before you entered. Thought you were an undercover cop at first, realised you're just a prissy stuck-up bitch Yoongi grew up with when he saw you talking with him after you tried to leave silently.

Watched you judge the alcohol. Watched you sit uncomfortably as Joon asked your rates, half thinks he would pick up an extra shift from the KBBQ restaurant if you were actually a hooker. Watched as you denied the blunts Jimin kept offering you. Watched as you internally mapped out your next plan to get out of here.

Knows people like you don't belong here, doesn't really want you here either. Doesn't want anyone that had anything to do with the lifestyle Yoongi escaped from here. Hates it, hates them, decides he hates you too.

His stare doesn't falter, eyes you down. Locked in. Wants you uncomfortable, wants you out. Hates your dress, too colourful. Hates the gold jewellery daintily sitting around your neck and around your wrist, prefers silver. Hates that your legs have given him a semi. Out. Get out.

"Want one?" He speaks out lazily, cocky shit eating grin on his face as he nods towards the coke.

You look down at the last line on the table, then back to him. He holds out the rolled Five dollar bill.

You shake your head, "All good, thanks."

"What? Too good to snort from a fiver?" He laughs, throwing the bill to Jimin instead.

Jimin cuts his own stack of lines, less organised than Jungkook's were. Snorts one and stands up, fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

Your eyes dart around for Yoongi, if the vibe of this shit box wasn't enough, the man sitting opposite sending you snarky remarks and eye daggers was.

You knew you didn't belong here. Didn't need the overgrown practically bald one telling you that you look like an expensive fuck or the band-tee wearing asshole who's probably 3 more lines away from a collapsed septum telling you so.

As you lean back into the couch, only staying until you can wish Yoongi a goodbye and a 'good fucking luck', another man enters the closed off section, stumbling over your legs and sinking down at the coffee table.

"Watch ya fuckin' step Hobes, we cant afford to scratch up the girl, probably has fuckin' leg insurance or some shit" Joon snorts, puffing his blunt.

He turns to face you, "Sorry darlin', don't sue me, I can only afford to pay in mixtapes" He chirps, giving your leg a once over.

Ah, the DJ. The one who was screaming for everyone to put their fucking hands in the air. Who now has his hands in the air feigning defence.

You roll your eyes jokingly, his more positive nature easing you slightly.

What's really bothering you isn't the trust fund, nepo baby jabs anymore. It's the pair of narrowed dark eyes glaring at you from the couch opposite you.

Unwavering. Harsh. Piercing.

✩ ₊ ˚. ⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊✧

[pretty-haunted]

He's a little mean but I love him anyway

[m1ckeyb3rry]

what it’s like to bring the jjk boys to…have dinner with your family!

ft. fushiguro megumi, fushiguro toji, gojo satoru, geto suguru, ijichi kyotaka, inumaki toge, itadori yuji, kamo choso, kamo noritoshi, mahito, muta kokichi, nanami kento, okkotsu yuta, panda, ryomen sukuna, todo aoi, yaga masamichi, yoshino junpei, zenin naoya

warnings: not all of these are romantic! reader is lowkey desi coded in some of them. reader is mentioned to have a brother, dogs, aunts/uncles, and cousins in some of them. reader slanders like 75% of the characters. honestly the characters might be ooc too i wrote this two years ago for fun and giggles and just found it again and wanted to post. also tw naoya!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

Literally perfect

Your parents love him

Your dogs love him

You love him

Was kind of quiet at first but settled in eventually and opened up a bit

Was still kind of reserved but that’s to be expected from him

Your mother found it sweet that he tried to hide behind you when your uncles started interrogating getting to know him 

He let your younger cousins play with his shikigami so that your dogs could get a break from being bothered

Really liked the salad your mother made and asked for the recipe

1000/10 

FUSHIGURO TOJI

Actually not too bad

Was polite enough and liked the food

Showed your parents pictures of Megumi as a baby

They were suitably impressed

Your cousin asked him where he goes to the gym

He told him he doesn’t believe in gyms (thinks they’re oppressive institutions designed to disadvantage the poor?)

Did give him a discount code for some random protein powder that he’s sponsored by though

Asked your parents to donate to his charity

They were happy to do so and thought it was amazing that he has a charity

You decided not to tell them that his “charity” is literally just his bank account

4/10 for scamming your family

GOJO SATORU

Solid 7/10

Goofs around a lot but he did come so he gets points for that

Your parents hated him at first but then he showed them the album of cute Megumi pictures he has saved on his phone and they switched up

“He’s so responsible for raising a kid so young! And it’s not even his!”

Bullshit

He does NOT raise Megumi and you were the one who sent him half of those pictures 

Demoted to a 6/10 just for that but at least your parents like him

Also the fact that he had an album was cute

Somehow managed to keep the dirty jokes to a minimum

Your brother kept making fun of his eyes being so blue so halfway through he had to switch the glasses out for the blindfold

Surprisingly high spice tolerance

GETO SUGURU

Honestly really a fun guy!

Actually brought his own dish to the dinner??

AND IT WAS GOOD????

Your mother wants you two to get married now

Asked if he could take some leftovers back for Mimiko and Nanako

Which was very considerate of him actually

Your mother told him he didn’t have to return the dishes she packed the food in

Let your brother win at Scrabble

Listened to your mother talk about the auntie drama

Apparently he’s going to start putting coconut oil in his hair now

Your parents are going to adopt him and kick you out

9/10 would’ve been higher but he didn’t beat your brother’s ass at Scrabble (he wanted to “make a good impression”)

IJICHI KYOTAKA

Similar to Nanami in that he and your father got along really well

Your brother called him “goofy”

He had to go to the bathroom and cry after that

He did compose himself and came back to eat

Can handle spicy food quite well

Complimented your mother’s cooking

Brought flowers as a thank you for the dinner

Was super sweet and grateful to be invited at all

11/10 would definitely invite him again

INUMAKI TOGE

Everyone was really excited to meet him

Let your cousins play with his hair and do his make up and paint his nails

Was your partner for Charades and you two won by a LOT

Kept sneaking treats to your dogs

Your mother ordered seafood for him because he could only speak in rice ball ingredients and she thought he really wanted salmon

He did eat it though

He would be a 10/10 but he accidentally used his Cursed Speech on your aunt so 8/10

ITADORI YUJI

Somehow lit the grill on fire

Managed to put it out but he did lose his eyebrows in the process unfortunately

Looked stupid without eyebrows

Spent most of his time hanging out with the little kids

Your family actually really liked him though

He’s too sweet to dislike

Helped wash the dishes and did not break any

7/10 because you almost had to call the fire department

KAMO CHOSO

Showed up an hour late

Was friendly but kinda nervous and awkward at first

Loved the food

He and your brother are best friends now

Genuinely he gets along better with your brother than with you

Impressed your father with his history knowledge

3/10 was too perfect and now your parents keep asking why you’re not more like him

KAMO NORITOSHI

He hates kids

Spent the entire first half running away from your cousins

Once he finally escaped he got along great with the adults

They really liked how responsible and mature he is

Thought it was impressive that he’s going to be the clan head

Your aunt told you that he was a keeper and you should “marry for money, hope for love”

Started crying when your mother asked him if she could hang up his jacket for him

It reminded him of his own mother who he was forced to leave as a kid 

All of your aunts have unofficially adopted him now due to his tragic backstory

Deserves 10/10 just for being relatively normal 

MAHITO

-892378/10 your parents couldn’t see him because he’s a curse

He was very happy to hear that and nearly destroyed your house

You had to call Geto halfway through to chase him off

Your family was thrilled to see Geto again though so at least there’s that??

MUTA KOKICHI

Sent a robot in his place obviously

Everyone wanted to know why you brought a robot to dinner

They thought you had hit a new low

You had to explain that Mechamaru was basically his body because of how weak his actual body was

Nobody believed you

-3/10 he was nice but it was overall a humiliating experience

NANAMI KENTO

Cannot eat anything spicy

Started tearing up at the appetizers alone

Had a massive stomach ache afterwards and his face was red for like twenty minutes 

Your father liked talking to him about business and the economy and shit

Did not get scared when asked about his plans for the future

Actually has plans for the future

Your brother is kind of gay for him tbh (??) and threatened to marry him if you don’t 

10/10 because he still finished everything on his plate so he didn’t seem rude even though he was lowkey dying 

OKKOTSU YUTA

Tried his best

Your dogs tried to leave with him because they liked him so much

He brought gifts from Africa for your entire family

Did stop a toddler from getting kidnapped

Is physically really good at grilling but emotionally cannot handle the stress

Had a mental breakdown when you asked for a vegetable burger

Made the discovery that he really likes corn and proceeded to eat all of the corn you had bought for the night so nobody else got any 

Summoned Rika and allowed your cousins to use her as their dress up doll

Rika was very nice and enjoyed the experience

She wants to be a fashion model now

2/10 he burnt your vegetable burger and you were really looking forward to having some corn

PANDA

Is a panda

Your younger cousins thought he was adorable

You got asked multiple times if he was a furry

5/10 he was only invited because he had nothing else to do and you had to chase him with a hose beforehand because he refused to bathe

RYOMEN SUKUNA

-1244129/10

An asshole but what’s new 

Told your family to “go back to where you came from”

Degraded your parents

Degraded you

Degraded everyone really

You got into a fight with him and Gojo had to intervene

Did ask for one of your mother’s recipes so he could get Uraume to cook it for him

She did not give it to him

TODO AOI

See you thought this would be hell on earth

But it wasn’t???

Played with your dogs

Carried your cousins around on his shoulders

Your uncles were impressed by his muscles

He saved a kitten that was stuck in a tree

Did not ask a single person about their type in women

Annihilated everyone in Wii Sports Resort

Absolutely sucked at Just Dance though

He thought he was too manly for the wrist strap but then he threw the remote into the TV while playing Wii bowling and it broke

6/10 he said he’d pay for a new one

YAGA MASAMICHI

Literally your boss

Only invited him because you wanted a raise

He liked the food

Exchanged sewing tips with your mother

200/10 you got the raise

YOSHINO JUNPEI

Really cool!

Gave everyone good movie recommendations

Someone gave him a baby to hold and he nearly dropped it

Burnt his hand on the grill

Found your uncles’ shitty jokes funny so they all liked him

He was decent at debating with everyone and having intellectual conversations even though he cried whenever someone disagreed with him too harshly

Your parents were very dismayed to see the cigarette burn scars on his face

Your mother told him he could always come to your house if he needed to

4/10 because he almost gave a baby brain damage 

ZENIN NAOYA

Told your parents about your sex life

Called your mother “woman”

Your cousins have a crush on him solely based on his looks

He thinks he has a harem now

0/10 they are all like 13 years old

[yuvany]

# HYPNOTIC ''

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 getting a whiff off your perfume.

OT7 enhypen x female reader ֶָ֢ WC: ~ 100 / character GENRE / WARNING(S) :: fluff + slightly suggestive + skinship + est relationship + possibly a bit ooc + not proofread!

( reblogs + feedback always appreciated !! )

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

immediately spots the new scent on you. You and him were cuddling on the couch while watching a movie, and he inched himself closer to you slowly. "Baby, did you spray a new perfume today?" He asks, in which you reply, "Yeah, do you like it?" Heeseung didn't answer right away, instead, his nose found your neck and breathed in your scent. The tip of his nose brushed against your nape a couple of times, and his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck ever so slightly. "So?" You whispered with a hint of uncertainty. "It's lovely." He replies at last, his face now buried in your shoulder.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆

is a perfume enthusiast for sure. Asks what perfume it is, and throws in his own guess. Most of the times, he guesses correct, but only if the perfume you're wearing is trending. You also ask him what he thinks often. "Jjongie, smell this, please." You request with puppy eyes, and why would he reject you? You lift your wrist up to his level and he sniffs it a couple of times before nodding his head. "Might just be my favourite, princess." He says with a smirk.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍

"You smell nice." He just blurts it out, and it takes you a while to fully comprehend what he meant. "Don't I smell nice on other days as well?" You tease with a smile, obviously knowing that he refers to the change of perfume you're wearing. "Of course you do! This smell is just different than before." His hand holds yours, and he lifts it up to his nose to smell your wrist. Jake sniffs it for a while, a bit longer than expected, which causes you to arch an eyebrow. "I really like this one, babe." He comments at last, and kisses your hand before pulling you into a strong hug.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

lets the smell familiarise in his nose before asking, "Is that the perfume I bought for you?" You nod, and smell your wrist for confirmation. "I really like the smell." You say, looking up at him. "I do too, it reminded me of you, you know?" Sunghoon says, kissing your forehead. You lean into his touch, and engulf him in a long hug where he swings you from from side to side. The two of you enjoy this moment of intimacy and closeness. The scent adding a sweet and comfortable aroma to the moment. "Maybe I should wear this more often" you laugh, patting his head that found itself by your nape.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

hums in delight when you walk past him, and the scent lingers in the air for a while. You turn around with a questioning look painting your features. "I just mean that you smell wonderful!" He said panickingly in case you got the wrong idea of his reaction. "Really? I can't really smell myself right now." You chuckled, and walked up to him, forgetting what you actually wanted to do prior. "Well, there's no need to worry. Even if you smelled bad, I wouldn't worry." Sunoo said, taking your hand in his. "What, why?" You asked, shocked. "Because I wouldn't have to worry about other people trying to pursue you."

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍๋

has a sensitive nose, but when he breaths in the faint smell of your new perfume, he perks an eyebrow. "Is that you who smells so nice?" He asks, stepping closer to you. "Yeah, why, is it too strong, babe?" You ask worryingly. "No, no, it's just right." Jungwon wraps his arms around your waist, and pulls you closer to him. "I was scared for a second, thought it was too strong for you, and, so I switched to oil perfumes." You explain followed with a soft giggle. He cracks a sweet smile for you, and presses a soft kiss to your cheek sweetly. "It smells sweet, just like you."

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

you had asked for his opinion on it, and risen your wrist to make it easier for him to smell it. Personally, you liked it a lot, so you really hoped he did too. Halfway up, he softly took your hand, and held you by the wrist, letting the perfume waft his way. Riki's eyes shifted from yours to the side of your head, and moved closer to smell it better. "Sorry baby, this doesn't really fit you." He says, and you are shook. "Huh?" You mumble, and he chuckles. "You're so cute. I was just kidding. It smells amazing, babe." He said with a joking tone, and nudged your with his hip.

Reminder to not spam like since it can shadow ban me😖

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 19

Word Count- 6.4k

Warnings- UNEDITED- I’m tired, and this chapter kicked my ass, swearing, violence, VOMIT- A LOT OF IT, liquor, underage drinking, Theo, Klaus, Stefan

I’m losing it. Or at least I’m about to. 

“C’mon, Y/n, it’s not that hard…just paint, for Christ's sake.”

I lift up my paintbrush, which I’ve been holding for the past 15 minutes, and dip it into the dark blue oil paint sitting next to my easel. The easel is currently holding a sickly white and blank canvas. The whiteness practically mocks me as I lift up the paintbrush and keep it a millimeter away from the canvas. 

I furrow my eyebrows and continue to hold the paintbrush for so long that some of the paint on the brush is about to slip off.

“UGH!”

I throw the paintbrush back into the water cup next to me and stand up, running a hand through my hair. This is how it’s been for the past week. I sit down in front of this stupid easel and stare at it for fucking hours, and yet nothing comes to me. No inspiration, no sense of creativity, nothing. When I was younger, painting and drawing were things that would ease my soul, but as of now, it’s something that is just pissing me off. Technically it’s not the painting that’s pissing me off, I guess. It’s my creativity or lack of it. 

A buzzing in my pocket has me grabbing my phone and answering it, “What?!”

“Pukey, we’ve really got to work on how you answer calls,” Demon laughs from his end of the call. 

“What do you want, Toad,” I huff as I rip off the painter’s apron covering my jeans and place it on the seat I was just inhabiting. 

“That’s a new one,” He says, and I can pretty much see the smirk on his face as he says it, “Anyways, I have something to tell you. It’s kind of big, so you might want to sit down.”

I scrunch up my face at his words, “Did someone die…other than Ric?”

“What? No. No one died.”

I release a breath, put Damon on speaker, and then walk over to my closet to find a different shirt to wear.

“Are you sitting down?”

I roll my eyes, “Ya…sure.”

“Okay…”

At Damon’s dramatics, I groan, “Demon, if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to hang up. And then you’re going to have to talk to one of your other friends…well, if you had any.”

“So you’re admitting we’re friends,” Damon sasses back.

“Damon! Speak!”

“Damn, woman, fine! Elena and I kissed…well, technically, I kissed her. And I think she kissed me back. I mean, I hope she did. Do I hope she did? Ya, I do.”

At Damon’s confession, I glance at the floor-length mirror on my closet door and watch myself blink rapidly, my face contorting from shock to anger.

“Damon…”

“Ya?”

“I’m going to stick my foot up your ass.”

“Please don’t.”

I quickly grab a light blue sweater off its hanger and then throw it over my head and shoulders, “Too late. I’m coming to your house now, and then when I get there, I’m going to beat you up.”

“I’m actually leaving now, so we’re going to have to postpone this little meetup.”

I huff as I grab my phone and take it off speaker, “Damon, you did something again without thinking.”

Damon is quiet for a moment, and then I hear him sigh, “I did think about it though, Y/n. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“She’s your little brother’s girlfriend, Damon. The little brother that spent a summer in hell with the devil himself to save your life.”

“I know… But for once, I just… nothing. Never mind,” Damon softly says, and my heart clenches when I hear his tone.

“Damon…”

“Don’t tell anyone, ok? I don’t think Elena wants anyone to know.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me, “Ya, sure, Damon. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks.”

Before I can say anything else, Damon ends the call, and I sigh. Can things in this town get any more fucking complicated?

“Y/N!”

I quickly go into alert mode as Theo bursts through my bedroom door with tears in his eyes.

“Theo! What’s wrong?! What happened?! Are you hurt?!”

I quickly run over to my brother and grab his shoulder, trying to asses him for any injuries. Thankfully, I see nothing externally wrong with him.

“He’s gone!”

Theo practically wails like a banshee as he throws himself dramatically into my arms, putting all of his weight onto me. 

“Jesus, Theo! Words give me more words! Who is gone?!”

Theo leans back to look down at me, “My precious baby boy!”

I shake my head frantically, “Jeremy! What happened to Jeremy? Is he hurt?”

Theo pushes off of me, resulting in me almost falling backward. I turn and watch my brother as he throws his tall body onto my bed, grabs one of my pillows, clutches it, and then positions himself in a fetal position. 

“Theo, explain!”

Theo throws his head back, and with one more wail, he looks up at me, “He’s leaving town! For some weird ass state like Ohio or some shit! Can you believe this horror, Y/n!? He’s LEAVING ME!”

I take a deep sigh of relief and then rub my temple with my index finger, “So he’s not dead?”

“He might as well be! He is to me, at least! That hoe just dropped the bomb on me that he’s leaving me… leaving US…and I’m supposed to be okay with this?!”

I watch my teenage brother go through his tantrum with a bored face. 

“Theo…”

“WHAT WOMAN!? Can’t you see that I’m going through something here?!”

“Theo… never mind,” I stare down at my brother and then just sigh. I walk over to him, grab my blanket, and throw it over him, “I’m guessing you’re not going to school?”

Theo peers his head out from the blanket and glares at me, “In this condition?! How do you expect me to live?!”

I blink at my brother and then cover his head back up. “As much as I’d like to stay here and work you through…whatever this is,” I grab my backpack and keys from my desk. But it’s Caroline’s birthday, so I’ve got to go to school.”

Theo doesn’t say anything, and I stand there for a moment, watching the blanketed lump on my bed. “Don’t forget to drink something.”

“Like what!? BLEACH?!”

“I’m too young for this,” I say to myself as I close my door. 

—-

“Hey, Y/n,” Elena smiles sheepishly as I meet her at Caroline’s locker.

I stare blankly at my friend as she tapes up a pink streamer to our friend’s locker, “From the look on your face, I’m guessing you heard.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard this morning, Elena Gilbert.”

“Jeremy needs to leave Y/n; it’s not safe for him here. As an older sister, too, you should know what I’m doing is only in his best interest.” Elena turns to me and looks at me hopefully. I want to argue with her, but if I were in her position and Theo’s life was in danger, I’d make him leave town, too.

“How’d you convince him to leave? Theo’s having a mental breakdown in my bed at this moment, so I don’t know how Jeremy could just leave so soon.”

Elena turns away from me and then quietly tapes another streamer onto the locker.

“Elena Gilbert… what the hell did you do?!”

Elena turns to me quickly, and her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrow at me, “I did what I had to do to keep my brother safe, Y/n. I had Damon come over last night and compel him to leave town. Jenna is going too.”

I stare blankly at my friend and breathe in and out, trying to stop myself from overreacting. 

“Did Damon do that before or after you guys kissed?”

Elena’s brown eyes widen in shock as she closes the small space between us. 

“How did you know,” She whisper-yells to me. 

“How do you think?! Elena, seriously!”

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. I, uh, got held up,” Elena and I separate and look over to our witch friend, who frowns at the two of us. 

“Is everything ok?”

I turn to Elena and tilt my head, “I don’t know…is it Elena?”

Elena looks at me and then brightly smiles at our friend, “Yep! We just got here to decorate…. Can you help with the balloons?”

Bonnie frowns slightly at me and then leans down to grab the balloons by my feet. She hands them to Elena who thanks her. 

“What got you running late?”

Bonnie looks at Elena and then back to me before answering, “I, uh, was working on some spells. You guys?”

Bonnie’s lying. 

I’m glancing at her as she fiddles with her fingers. Hmm, it seems like everyone is hiding something nowadays. 

“Working out with Alaric,” Elena says. I glance up and notice Bonnie looking at me, waiting for me to answer.

“Talking Theo off the ledge,” I say casually as I lean down to grab a streamer.

“Wait, what?!”

Bonnie’s frightened voice has me turning back toward her, “Nothing new.”

I smile at Bonnie, who stares at me wide-eyed but still nods her head. I gesture to the sign in her hands and she hands it to me. I tape the sign onto Care’s locker.

“So, uh, I have something I need to tell you. And you’re not going to like it.”

At Elena’s words, I let out a low whistle and then backed away from the two, saying, “This is a perfect time for me to go…away.”

Without waiting, I quickly bolt down the hall so I don’t have to be around for Elena telling Bonnie that she had her ex-boyfriend compelled to leave town. No, thank you. 

I find comfort by a water fountain until I see Jeremy walk to his locker. 

“Jeremy Gilbert, turn around.”

I watch as Jeremy’s shoulders hunch together, and he slowly turns around to face me. 

“Hey, Y/n…”

“Don’t; hey, me. Do you know that my brother is at home right now…in my bed, wailing because his best friend is leaving him? After telling him over a phone call!”

Jeremy frowns and looks down, ashamed, “It was something that I found out I was doing just last night.”

I inwardly cringe at that because it’s honestly not this boy’s fault his sister had her not-love compel him. 

“I know, Buddy. But telling Theo over the phone and not saying goodbye to him in person? Low blow,” I stare at him for another moment before glaring at the kid, “ALSO! Why the hell did you tell Theo about the supernatural!?”

Jeremy cringes and shrugs his shoulders, “He told you?”

I answer him by glaring.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. Well, he deserved to know. I went through the same thing with being in the dark.”

“But that wasn’t your call to make, Jeremy! You’re his friend. Not his sister!”

“Jeremy?”

At the sound of Bonnie’s voice, I let out a sigh and rubbed my temple. “Just go talk to him in person,” I said, pointing at him.

Jeremy nods, and I roll my eyes before pulling the younger boy in for a hug, “Be safe in Ohio.”

“I’m going to Delaware,” Jeremy says, confused, and I roll my eyes.

“Please tell my brother that. I’m pretty sure he’s planning on flying to Ohio to be with you.”

Jeremy lets out a laugh and smiles, “You be careful too, okay?”

I nod, “Careful as I can be.”

—

“Matt move your fat ass,” I hiss to Matt Donovan as we squeeze in together behind the corner of Caroline’s living room. The birthday girl didn’t show up to see the masterpiece we made of her locker, so we decided to move the party to her house. 

“Sorry, Y/n,” The blond boy says as he moves back a step.

“Shhhh! She’s coming,” Elena whispers to us as she and Bonnie stand directly across from us.

The sound of a door opening and closing alerts us, and we jump out, yelling. 

“Suprise!”

  Caroline’s wide eyes look at the four of us, and she smiles, but it doesn’t seem to meet her eyes. 

“Happy Birthday!”

  “What are you guys doing here?”

“Well, you uh blew off school and missed our, uh work of birthday art,” Elena explains as Care walks over to us, inspecting our poster and birthday crowns we’re all wearing, 

“Change into warmer clothes; we’re going to the falls. S’mores, campfire,” Bonnie tells her, and I nod excitedly. 

“Cake,” Elena chimes in, “Like when we were little.”

“Except with tequila,” Matt says, and I roll my eyes.

“I also brought my speaker and my iPod, so I’m going to be DJing us alllll night,” I jump up and down.

Caroline laughs and smiles at us, “Ah, thanks, guys, really. Um… I’m just not really feeling my birthday this year.”

“I’m sorry, what? You’ve already claimed your birthday as everyone’s favorite day of the year.”

I nod along to what Bonnie just said, “Gurl, be so for real. I haven’t been up for my birthday in years, and yet you threw me a great party. It’s your turn to experience the love,” I say and give her a stern look.

“Ya, well, it’s just a reminder now technically I’m dead,” Caroline retorts. 

Oh. 

“Look, I didn’t even like 17. And the only point was to get to 18. It’s a filler year. I’m stuck in a filler year.”

Elena shakes her head at Caroline’s words, “You’re not stuck, Caroline.”

“Ya, I am. But it’s okay. You know it’s all good. I will be fine. But I just need some time to wallow in it.”

I awkwardly play with my fingers at the tension in the room. 

“Okay,” Elena says, “Well, I think I have another idea.”

—

“Oh god,” I look at the cemetery we’re walking into. You guys realize that this is a horror movie, stupid, right?!”

I turn to Matt, Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena, who all laugh at me, thinking I’m joking. I’m not. 

“Guys, I’m being serious! You know when you’re watching a horror movie, and the dumb blonde makes some dumbass decision that puts her right into the hands of the maniac killer? Ya, that’s us right now! We’re the dumb blondes!”

They all laugh but keep walking towards the crypt. 

“This is going to end so badly! I’m calling it now. So when something bad happens, don’t be pissed off when I say I told you so! You hear me,” I watch as they all walk into the small building while I stand alone in the dark cemetery, “Guys!?”

I stand by myself, debating on going in. A snapping branch from behind me makes me pretty much shit myself.

“Oh fuck this,” I quickly run to the crypt, throw open the door, and shut it behind me. 

“I hate you all.”

“We love you, too,” All four of them say together like some weird ass cult. 

Elena walks over to me, throws her hand over my shoulder, and pulls me into her, “As I was saying… Technically, Caroline’s dead. Sorry, but you don’t need a birthday. You need a funeral. You need to say goodbye to your old life so that you can move on with your new one.”

I whip my head over to my best friend and gawk at her. Then, I think for a moment and realize for once that her plan wasn’t completely horrible. 

Caroline seems to think so, too, as she laughs. 

“Okay,” The birthday girl takes off her purple tiara and places it down, “Here lies Caroline Forbes.”

“Cheerleader, Miss Mystic Falls,” Elena moves us to Caroline’s cake and starts putting candles on it. “Third-grade hopscotch champion.”

“Friend… daughter,” Bonnie adds as she walks over to the blonde, “Overachiever.”

“Mean girl, sometimes,” Matt takes his turn, “No offense.”

“Ah, none taken.”

“Best party thrower in the history of Mystic Falls and the most scandalous friend I’ve ever had,” I smile at the blonde, and she smiles back at me.

“You bet your ass I am.”

“She was 17, and she had a really good life,” Elena finishes putting the candles on the cake, and we walk it over to Caroline, “So rest in peace so that you can move forward. That’s what you really need. It’s what we all really need. Amen, or cheers or whatever.”

I laugh as Matt raises the bottle of Tequila in the air. 

“Uh, Bonnie,” Elena gestures to the unlit cake, and Bonnie smiles. We all watch as our witch friend closes her eyes, and a moment later, the dark crypt is lit up by the orange glow of the birthday candles. 

I jump up and down, “Huzzah! Make a wish!”

—

“I love this song!”

I dance around the crypt nursing my root beer as my friends all pass around the bottle of tequila. They offered me my first dibs, but I turned them down. 

I dance by Bonnie and grab her arms. Her laugh echoes off the stone walls as we sway back and forth to “Jessie’s Girl.”

“Uh oh, I need it more than you. Trust me…” Elena says to Matt over the music, “Caroline, what are you doing?”

Bonnie and I swing to look at the blonde, who is currently hunched over her phone. 

“Huh? Hmmm? Nothing.”

Bonnie and I share a look at the blatant lie.

“Okay,” Elena says, “You’re a bad sober liar. You’re an even worse drunk liar.”

Caroline cringes, “I might’ve texted Tyler.”

I blow out a low breath, and Elena presses pause on my iPod, shutting off the music. 

“Until next time, my love,” I lean down and kiss Bonnie’s hand, and she giggles. 

“Caroline…”

“What,” Caroline whines, “I’m delicate.”

Bonnie sits down on the stone floor, “Okay, give her a break. You can’t control what everyone does all the time.”

“Oh shit,” Matt and I shoot an awkward look at each other. 

“Wow,” Elena says to the witch.

“I’m sorry; I know it’s Caroline's birthday funeral or whatever, but I just feel it’s really wrong that you compelled Jeremy to leave town.”

And this is one of the many reasons I don’t drink. 

Elena frowns, “I’m doing it to protect him, Bonnie. I wanna give him a chance at a halfway normal life.”

“He should be able to choose how he wants to live it. You’re taking his choices away.”

Elena shakes her head, “Bonnie, you can’t tell him.”

“Why? Are you going to compel me not to?”

“You know, you guys are ruining a perfectly good funeral,” Matt interrupts…thankfully. 

“I’m sorry,” Bonnie stands up. I’m just going to go sleep it off or something. Happy Birthday.”

I watch with raised eyebrows as Bonnie leaves.

— 

I stare down at Matt’s lips and then back up to his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t!”

I throw myself back, and Caroline, Elena, and Matt all laugh.

“My first kiss is not going to be with my work husband. I’m a chicken, and I fault on my dare,” I say and raise my hands in surrender.

“Wait! First kiss?!?! You’ve never had your first kiss? What the hell, Y/n,” The drunk blonde vampire throws herself into my lap so she’s straddling me, and I let out a loud laugh.

“Ya, nope. I have no game. No kissing for me,” I say casually.

“I bet Elijah thinks otherwise,” Caroline says seductively, and I shove her off my laugh.

“Shut up!” I try to act cool, but I can feel myself warming up. 

“I’m serious,” Caroline stands up, or at least tries to, “We’re going to go find Stefan, get him to wake Elijah up, and then that hunky suited Original is going to lay one big slobbery kiss on those pink lips of yours!”

Caroline nods to herself as if this is the best idea she has ever come up with. 

“Elijah does not want to kiss me,” I deny.

“Yes, he does,” all three of them say, and I whip my head over to Matt, who is sitting next to me. 

“How the hell do you even know that? You’ve never met the guy… neither have you, Caroline!”

Matt shrugs and takes another sip of the tequila, “I saw him that day when you, Damon, Ric, and Jenna were at the Grill. And I also saw the way he looked at you when you weren’t looking, Y/n, and that man defiantly wanted to kiss you. Maybe even more.”

My mouth drops open, and I hear Elena and Caroline laughing beside us. “Shut up!”

“It’s true,” Matt raises three fingers, “Scouts Honor! I’m a guy, Y/n. Trust me when I say I know what a guy looks like when he wants a girl.”

I shake my head defiantly, “You’re all drunk and out of your minds.”

The door behind me opens, and I jump. “Holy hell! It’s the maniac killer! I told you all!”

I whip around and then sigh when it’s only Tyler: “False alarm. It's just the dog.”

Matt stands up and glares at the intruder. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to crash the party.”

“So don’t.”

At Matt’s words, I let out a little “oop.”

Caroline quickly sits up, “No, uh, it’s okay. Hi.”

Tyler turns his attention to the birthday girl, “Can I talk to you for a second? It’s kind of important.”

Caroline sighs and then nods her head. She begins to walk out, but I grab her hand, stopping her, “If he does anything, just scream, and I’ll be there to kick his ass for you.”

Caroline smiles softly and nods her head. She walks past Tyler, and I shoot him one last glare and then swipe a finger over my throat threateningly. 

After they exit, Matt and I sit back down.

“Are you okay,” Elena asks Matt.

“Yeah, I want her to be happy, you know?”

I smile softly as I stare at the blonde boy. Not many people give him props, but I think he’s a pretty cool guy. If my best friend started dating my ex-boyfriend, I’d lose my shit.

“That’s what I want for all of you guys in the middle of this crazy life you got stuck living.”

Elena frowns, “Is that how you see it? That we’re stuck?”

“I don’t think that’s what he means, E,’’ I shake my head. 

“No, I’d say it’s attached itself to all of you pretty tight, yeah,” Matt says and I just lean back. 

“Bonnie’s right, you know I have no business messing in Jeremy’s head. I just don’t know what else to do. He's in danger here. I can’t lose anyone else that I love.”

Well, this night just got melodramatic. 

—

“Great. We’ve been abandoned. We’re going on a search party. I don’t trust she won’t get back together with him,” Elena says as we step outside, trying to find Caroline. 

Matt stands in front of us with a flashlight. I’m currently clutching onto Elena’s arm as I look wearily around the graveyard. 

“Matt, you go first,” I nod ahead at the boy and then lean over to whisper to Elena, “He’s a guy, so the killer will take him first. Horror movie logic,” I nod, and she rolls her eyes at me and pulls me closer, “I’ll protect you.”

“Let’s hope those training sessions with Alaric have been working, or else we’re both dead.”

“Caroline!”

“Come on, Caroline! We don’t have anymore drinks, and Matt’s being haunted by the fell ghosts,” Elena walks us over to Matt. 

I whip my head to Elena, “Hoe, don’t say that,” I look behind us quickly, “You’ll wake them up!”

When I turn back around, though, a scream escapes my throat as Matt is being thrown against the crypt wall.

“It’s the killer!! Run, Elena,” I tug on Elena’s hand, but everything goes black before I can take another step.  

— 

“Ugh,” I groan in pain at the fire coming from my temple. 

“Y/n! Wake up,” Elena’s voice calls from somewhere around me. 

“I got kidnapped again, didn’t I,” I groan as I slowly open my eyes and frown when I realize I’m in the backseat of Stefan’s car. 

“That’s on me,” The vampire says as he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Ya, no shit, Sherlock.”

Stefan pulls out his phone and dials a number before setting it up on the dash. 

“Stefan, you are no longer my favorite Salvatore. And that really fucking sucks because the only other choice I have is Damon, and that’s a low bar.”

Stefan ignores me.

“Stefan, how nice to hear your voice,” I freeze up when a familiar British accent fills my ears. 

“Tell your hybrids to get out of town, Klaus,” Stefan replies.

“Well, that’s not gonna happen until I get my coffins back.”

Stefan laughs, and a lousy feeling washes over me, “Okay, well, then I’m gonna drive your blood source and your obsession off Wickery Bridge.”

Tears instantly fill my eyes, “Stefan, what are you talking about?!”

“Y/n,” Klaus says my name sternly, “Stefan, I don’t believe you. You won’t kill them.”

I let out a gasp as Stefan harshly bites into his wrist and shoves it into Elena’s mouth. I scream when the car starts to swerve as Stefan no longer has his hands on the wheel. 

“Y/n! What’s going on,” Klaus almost frantically yells into the phone.

Stefan sits back and grabs the wheel, “I just fed her my blood. No more hybrids if she’s a vampire.”

“You won’t do it,” Klaus says, and I want to cry because I know he will not relent. 

“Really? Try me because your coffins are next to go. After, of course, I kill your pretty little mate, who is currently crying in my back seat. I didn’t figure it out at first, Klaus, but after some time, I did. Tell me, what happens to a hybrid after their human mate is killed?”

Mate? What the fuck is Stefan talking about?!

“She’s nothing to me, Stefan. I don’t know what delusions you’ve cooked up in that head of yours, but you're being delusional. Kill her, see if I care.”

Tears explode out of my eyes when I hear Klaus tell Stefan that. 

“Stefan,” I sob, “Please don’t! Theo…Theo needs me, okay? I can’t leave him! Please don’t make me leave him!”

Elena quickly reaches behind her and grabs my shaking hand. 

My breathing comes out erratic as I see the bridge come closer to us.

“Say goodbye to your family, Klaus,” Stefan growls as he floors it, and I let out a scream. 

“Stefan, slow down!”

“Stefan, please stop!”

“Fine. I’ll send them away. You win,” Klaus relents, but Stefan doesn’t slow down. 

“Stefan, please stop!!! Klaus, do something,” I yell hopelessly.

“Stop the car, Stefan! Or I swear to god,” Klaus yells into the phone. A moment later, I’m thrown forward as the car comes to a screeching halt. 

I don’t think I’m breathing as I stare ahead wordlessly. My vision is blurred by the thousands of tears flowing down my face. 

“Y/n! Come on,” I feel a tug on my shoulders, and I move on autopilot as I’m being forced out of Stefan’s car.

“Elena, Y/n, get in the car,” Stefan’s voice calls from behind us. 

I don’t say anything as I stare blankly at the dark forest ahead of me. I can hear Elena and Stefan arguing, but I can’t focus on anything they say. All I can really hear is the loud beating of my heart. 

A weight around my shoulders shocks me as I feel Elena weep into the corner of my neck.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so sorry.”

—

“Come on, Pukey. Let’s go home.”

I look away from the dark pavement I have been staring at for the past 15 minutes and stare up at the blue-eyed vampire who is staring down at me. When I don’t say anything, Damon kneels to my sitting position.

“Shit,” Damon winces and reaches his hand up to softly touch my forehead, “He got you good, didn’t he?”

Damon brings his wrist to his mouth, and I quickly flinch away. 

“Please, don’t,” I say, and more tears fall from my eyes. 

Damon’s face drops, and he quickly puts his wrist down, “Ya, okay.”

Damon stares at me for a long moment as if thinking of what to do. With a sigh, I feel his hands go under my arms and legs, and I’m being picked up. 

“I can walk,” I softly say.

“I highly doubt that,” Damon says back.

—

An hour later I’m sitting on my bathroom floor clutching the toilet. I’ve been throwing up for the past 15 minutes, and I don’t see any signs of stopping anytime soon. 

My phone ringing catches my attention and I go to ignore it until I see Matt calling. Shit. 

I pick up the phone and answer it, “We’re fine, Matt,” I try to get out even though my throat burns. 

“Tyler bit Caroline.”

—

“Y/n? I didn’t think I’d hear from you,” Alastair sounds happy as he answers my call. 

“Alastair,” I stop and take a sip of my water, trying to keep down more vomit. 

“Y/n? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve had a long night,” I am able to get out, “I need a favor.”

“I’ll be right over.”

—

Alastair rushes up the steps of my porch, and he growls when he sees the condition I’m in. 

“What the fuck happened? Who did this to you? I’ll kill them,” Alastair kneels in front of me and takes my face into his hands, accessing my face.

“I don’t matter. That's not why I called you,” I try to push him away, but I’m so dehydrated and tired that I really have no strength. 

“Of course, you matter,” Alastair harshly says, “You matter more than practically anything.”

“Alastair, please. I don’t want to fight…I don’t think I can.”

At my weak words, Alastair nods, “Okay, let’s go inside and talk.”

I shake my head, “Elena’s asleep in my room. I don’t want to wake her. Besides, I need you to take me to Klaus.”

At the mention of the Original, Alastair freezes. 

“What? Why?”

“Caroline,” I swallow, a sob building in my throat, “Tyler bit her. I need…Klaus needs to..”

Harsh breaths escape me, and Alastair doesn’t waste any time pulling me into him.

“I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’ve got you, babe.”

“Please, Alastair. I need to see him!”

Alastair doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I’m about to get on my knees and start begging, but I release a heavy sigh of relief once I feel him nod. 

“Ya, okay. I’ll take you to him.”

—

“He lives here?”

I look up at the mansion, which looks like it’s in construction, and frown. 

“We both do,” Alastair comes up from behind me and guides me up a massive staircase to the front door.

“I’m too exhausted to ask you about that right now,” I say weakly, and I hear him laugh.

I take a deep breath as Alastair steps in front of me and pushes open the enormous front door. He moves out of the way so I can enter, and even though the house/mansion is still being built, it’s still stunning. 

“What is she doing here?”

Klaus seems to trigger my waterworks because as soon as I turn around and see him walking over to Alastair and me, the floodgates open. 

“I hate you,” I try to say, but it comes out mostly in sobs.

I feel Alastair place a hand on my shoulder comfortingly, but I don’t take my eyes off of the Original. 

Klaus watches me and then turns to Alastair, “Leave us.”

I feel my lip quiver as I wait for Alastair to follow his orders, but I feel Alastair’s hand tighten on my shoulder.

“No.”

Klaus narrows his eyes at the younger vampire, “What do you mean no?”

“I mean…no. I’m not leaving her. Not in the state.”

I watch Klaus glare at Alastair, and in fear of Klaus hurting another one of my friends, I turn to Alastair.

“Go, I’ll be okay.”

Alastair looks down at me and shakes his head.

“Go, Alastair, please.”

At my pleading, Alastair sighs profoundly and then nods his head, “I’ll be in the other room.”

I stare at my hands as I feel the door shut behind Alastair, leaving Klaus and me alone. 

“Can I sit down, please,” I look up to Klaus with teary eyes.

The hybrid stares at me with furrowed brows before slowly nodding his head and gesturing to a bench in the corner of the room. 

I place myself slowly on the bench and stare up at the man in front of me. 

Klaus stands about 8 feet away, and for the first time, he almost seems uncomfortable. He has an odd expression on his face, his hands are shoved in his jeans, and he keeps switching his body weight from one foot to the other. 

“Why did you do it?”

Klaus looks at me, “I do a lot of things, love. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

The entryway light flickers for a moment, and I let out a groan of pain as I clutch my head. The migraine I’ve been sporting all night is kicking my ass.

“Y/n,” Klaus’ voice calls to me, “What’s wrong?”

I don’t say anything, to focused on my pain, but I freeze when I feel a warm hand run its way through my messed-up hair. I release a quivering breath, and for some reason, I find myself leaning into the touch. Into his touch. 

“Breathe, Astin Min,” Klaus’ voice seems to push through my pain, and I’m able to register his words, “Tell me what’s happening.”

I open my eyes and realize that Klaus is quite literally standing over me. His hand is still soothingly running itself up and down my hair. I also realize his body is quite literally touching mine. He’s standing between my knees, and in horror, I know I was resting my head on his lower abdomen. I fight back the horror and look up to see him already staring down at me, and I feel my breathing stop altogether. The look on his face has my bottom lip quivering. He’s looking down at me with this…softness. His eyebrows are squished together but not in the usual annoyed way. His eyes were once harsh and dark and light and filled with something so…human. 

“I think…,” Klaus nods, waiting for me to continue, “I think I’m going to puke again.”

I quickly lean over and throw up into a potted plant. 

Interestingly, though, Klaus’ hand doesn’t move from my head. It’s now holding back my hair as I defile this plant. 

After I think I’ve finally thrown up everything I’ve ever consumed, I lean back. Klaus steps back a tiny step as well. And if I were a stronger woman, I’d say that I didn’t miss the feeling of him. But right now, I’m not a strong woman. 

“You hurt my friend.”

I look up to Klaus, who stares down at me. I want to sob as I no longer see the once-soft look in his eyes. If it was even there at all. Maybe I imagined the whole fucking thing. 

“I know.”

“Please heal her,” I softly ask. 

Klaus stares down at me and shakes his head, “I can’t do that, Y/n.”

I bite down on my lip as it starts to quiver, “But you can. All you have to do is give me some of your blood, and then it’ll heal her. And everything will be ok,” I let out a small sob, “I need it to be all okay. Okay?”

Klaus continues to stare down at me, and I let out a loud sob when I see no change in his face. 

I stand up on shaking legs and walk towards him. 

“Please, Klaus. I know you hate me. Trust me, you’re not the only one; I’m not a likable person,” I let out a pathetic laugh, “And I’m nothing special, no witch, werewolf, doppelganger, or anything like that. I am not rich, so I can’t give you any money or anything worth value, but…I’m asking you,” I shake my head, “No, I’m begging you, please. Please help my friend. I’ll do anything you ask. Caroline…Caroline’s a good person, and she has a bright future. A bright future that she deserves. She’s my friend, and I don’t have many friends. Not that it matters to you, but…if there’s something I can give you. Please… please tell me.”

I stand there, pathetically crying, in front of the Original Hybrid. 

With blurry vision, I watch his hand rise, and I close my eyes, accepting my fate, but once I feel his warm palm resting against my cheek and his thumb brushing away my tears, I let out yet another sob. 

“I can do practically anything on this Earth, Astin Min. But, hating you? That is something I could never do. Even if I wanted to…even if I tried.” 

I release a shaky breath, and maybe it’s because I’m fighting a nasty head injury, dehydration, and a severe lack of sleep, but I find myself leaning back into the man. And maybe because I’m a weeping teenage girl…or maybe not, but he lets me. 

We stand there for what seems like forever, Klaus’ arms wrapped around my shaking body. But then I remembered why I had come there, and finding comfort in the man who was responsible made me pull away. 

I don’t look back up to him, but I can feel his eyes on me.

“Alastair.” 

Klaus’ voice calls, and within a split second, Alastair bursts into the room and looks at me—or really checks me over—almost like a worried mother. 

Klaus moves away from me and over to a table in the other room. I watch silently as he grabs a glass, raises his hand to his mouth, and bites into it. He then lets his blood fill the glass. 

“Take this to her friend,” Klaus says, walking back over to us and handing the glass to Alastair. 

I release a relieved sigh.

Alastair nods and then gestures for me to follow, “Come on, Y/n.”

“No,” Klaus’s voice stops both of us. I’ll take her home. You bring that to her friend.”

[dearest-nell]

a real piece of art

e.m x reader, 2.8k

summary: eddie has some time to kill, and you might just be his new favourite distration. includes: art history student!reader, meet cute, eddie's an absolute dork warnings: mentions of nudity in artwork and allusions to a young eddie who is very excited by the prospect.

a/n: this came to me as i stared blankly into the void of my coffee machine this morning. i'm incapable of proofreading as per usual. i could be convinced to do a part two

Eddie had no business being here. This was an art gallery for crying out loud! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped in one, save that one unfortunate field trip in middle school where he’d been caught ogling a half naked sculpture in front of half the class. Sue him, he’d never seen a naked girl before, and he really had to give credit to the artist because he couldn’t look away. He’d been called a perv for a good year after that, and he’d never thought to visit another gallery again. 

Until now, that was. He was due for a practice and soundcheck in what he thought was only an hour, but somewhere along the line Jeff had got the time wrong, leaving Eddie stuck in Chicago with nothing but his ego to keep him company. Eddie had kicked himself for the mistake – who rehearses at 10 am anyways? There was a silent agreement that Gareth would be handling the bookings next time, where Eddie might be able to actually stay in bed until a reasonable hour. 

He’d thought to burrow down in a cafe for a little while, but the snooty businessmen and shrill giggles of the barista had sent him fleeing. The environment wasn’t conducive to good thinking anyways. He figured a little solace would do him some good, maybe give him some hard earned inspiration to turn into music for the band. So with coffee in hand, he’d taken to the streets, wandering idly as the strings of bodies moved in tandem, dodging and weaving the tracks of Tuesday morning commutes. It might have been enough for him had his jacket not been too thin for the sudden drop in temperature. Worn denim with steamed patches was hardly enough to break the piercing gusts of wind, and even his sweltering coffee in hand could not keep his hands from shaking. Looking around, Eddie felt out of luck. Cafe’s seemed too busy, and he had no real desire to start wandering shops nearby, so what was there left to do? 

$14 later, Eddie puffed a relieved sigh as the warmth of the gallery enveloped him, that trembling cold slowly dissipating from his veins until his hands no longer felt like ice. He figured he’d have taken any sanctuary, though he had been hoping maybe for a Library. At least then he could have bunkered down somewhere with a book. What did you even do at a gallery anyways?  He didn’t see much point in wandering around, scanning his eyes over paintings that seemed a million years old. He didn’t get art. Music was his art, after all. Even as he started to walk, all the pieces seemed to bleed together for him. Acrylics and oils and gouache melted into the blur of faces and places and things. Sure, they looked pretty, but Eddie couldn’t see why anyone would waste their time to sit and paint something like this, let alone stare at it for hours. 

He passed through room after room like this, brows furrowed, arms crossed as he tried to puzzle out the meaning. Music and melody had meaning, lyrics filled with the words people couldn’t seem to say any other way. The sounds of instruments were sounds of heartbeats, of head rushes and blood flow and heart aches and burning desires – paintings couldn’t do that, could they? 

Wandering into a smaller room, Eddie found himself caught as his eyes fixated on perhaps the only worthwhile piece of art he had seen all morning. There you were, perched somewhat uncomfortably on the plush leather seat in the room's centre, head resting delicately into cupped palms, your elbows propping you up into a figure he was sure was only meant for statues. You looked like one of the Greek ones, he thought, all soft and graceful curves, pretty lines and prettier expressions. There was a notebook in your lap, though Eddie couldn’t begin to make out what the blurry pen strokes might have  noted at this distance. 

You seemed so lost in thought as you stared at the piece directly before you, eyebrows knitted in concentration to match the deep set focus of your eyes, and Eddie, despite himself, was lost in you. 

It was a horrifying notion to realise he was back in this same situation again, entirely different and yet all the same. Here he was, stuck motionless, staring helplessly at something beautiful, something entirely foreign to him. Naked breasts had been enough to melt a twelve year old Eddie’s mind, but this Eddie, now grown, was entirely transfixed for another reason. Never in his life had just looking at a person knocked the wind right out of him. This was beyond attraction, he thought. Beyond a pretty face and a beautiful body and all those hormones that made people spin. You were all of that, and so much more. 

How he knew that seemed entirely out of reach, but the thought settled in him all the same. 

Eddie watched the subtle angle of your head, the way you tried to see from a different perspective, before fixating your attention on your notebook once more, scribbling away furiously at stained parchment. 

All better judgement seemed to leave him as he approached, slow and long strides to avoid the echoes of boots against floorboards in such vastness. His body took residence beside the lounge, standing tall at the opposite end, arms crossing as he tried to see what it was that had you so fascinated. 

Cheese. Bread. Nuts of some kind. He tilted his head as you had, browns furrowing in confusion. Still cheese. Still bread. Still nuts of some kind. He let out a defeated huff. 

“Are you okay?” 

He hadn’t expected you to speak, let alone notice him, but when he turned his chin towards you he was met with a curious expression. You were even more captivating up close, as it turned out, so much so that he could not decide what captured his attention more. The soft bags of sleepless nights hung low under your eyes, your cheeks flushed with a dusty sort of colour that only the artifice of candies could achieve, your cheeks indented so delicately with the lines of so many smiles that had come before. 

It was embarrassing in his eyes that he was still gawking, and even more embarrassing that you had to ask your question a second time. 

“Oh– yeah. I mean… yeah. Sorry. Was I being too loud?” 

The soft shake of your head was accompanied by an even gentler smile, and Eddie felt his shoulders ease a fraction away from his ears. 

“No, not at all. Just seemed like a forlorn sigh.” You pointed out, uncrossing your legs to lower your feet to the ground. 

Eddie’s brow raised, his tone lilting with amusement. “Forlorn, huh?” 

You shrugged, though Eddie could see the slow creep of embarrassment flush your cheeks, your hand lifting to rub at it absentmindedly. “Yeah, I guess. It was just the first word that came to mind.” 

Eddie was smiling before he knew what he was doing. “I like it. Forlorn. Like it’s from a poem, or something.” 

A soft hum of contemplation fell from your lips, your pen scratching nervously in the margins of your notebook, patterns of stars falling into the sea of words below. “Could be. Poets are meant to be all crestfallen and stuff.” 

He actually laughed at that, something sounding like a punched out breath leaving him, his eyes crinkling delightfully at the corners. 

“Are you a writer or somethin’? You don’t just hear people saying words like that every day. Gotta know them by trade.” 

You shrugged again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the curve of your ear. “Student, actually. Art history, so I guess fancy words are part of the curriculum.” 

It seemed strange to be meeting you like this, like someone high above had heard his complaints only to send him an angel to set him straight. An art student; maybe you could teach him a thing or two. 

Eddie gestured to the seat beside you, flat palm dampened nervously at the prospect of speaking to someone so pretty, so much more learned than him. You nodded shyly, not bothering to adjust as he took up the empty space beside you, his elbows propping on his knees for comfort. 

“Can I ask you something, then? Since all of this is your thing.” 

You closed your notebook, folding your legs beneath you once more as you fixated your attention on him – something Eddie was sure no man could ever tire of wanting from you. “Sure”. 

“Why are you staring at this one? Out of all the pictures in this place, what makes cheese so interesting.” 

The astonished little chuckle that left you was something sacred, golden and warm and louder than he had anticipated. You could put that laugh to song. Maybe he would. 

“It’s not the cheese,’ You clarify, your smile never shifting from your lips, “though it looks great, doesn’t it? Looks real.” 

Eddie took in the piece once more, letting his eyes trace over the food to take in the finer details. It was true; it looked real. He could see the shadows, the cracks in the bread, the crumbs that had fallen onto the platter below. He realised it mustn’t have been easy to make something so real. It felt like a snapshot. 

Oh fuck, do I get art now? 

“Yeah, it looks real. Kinda crazy real, actually. How do they get it looking like that?” 

“It’s different for different people. This one’s by Peeters, and no one’s sure where she learned to paint, but she was one of the only female professionally working artists of the 17th century. She was a big deal.” 

Eddie tilted his head towards you. “Is that why you like her, then?” 

You shook your head, scrunching up your nose. “It’s very impressive, but it’s not the only reason. I was looking for her signature.” 

Eddie did not need to clarify himself, the confusion that etched across his face spoke volumes, leaving you to laugh again in amusement. 

“A lot of artists leave signatures so you know a work is theirs. Sometimes it’s their name, or an item, or a seal – sometimes it’s on the back, sometimes it’s made to look part of the picture. She writes her name down at the bottom, see?” 

You leaned in a little closer to Eddie, lining up his gaze with your own so you could point out a flourish of cursive in the corner. Drawn into you, Eddie could not help but lean into your orbit, his eyes following the line of your finger to its destination. “Oh yeah. Musician’s do that too, y’know. Chuck in a riff or a line or something to leave their mark.” 

“Seems like it’s an artist's thing. I think it’s pretty cool.” 

Eddie liked the insinuation that musicians were artists. He’d met too many people in his life who’d thought otherwise, who did not understand the value of art. He supposed he was one of them, though. He’d been ratting on the art around him only five minutes earlier. 

“You like music, then?” He asked, eagerness in his voice betraying the cool persona he was hoping to achieve. 

“I love music.” You confirmed, hands busily occupying themselves by twiddling the pen in your lap once more. “I wish they played music here. Imagine looking at all the art and listening to songs that fit. There’s these big dramatic paintings a few rooms over that are just begging for a rock instrumental to accompany it, and the cheese…” you trailed off, seemingly embarrassed to have been so caught up in the idea. “I feel like I'd be lost in it forever.” 

Eddie closed his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the vision of your little dream settle in his mind. He could get around that, art and music together – two worlds colliding. It seemed all the more enticing to think you would be there too, humming away as you watched the paintings and he watched you. 

“I think it sounds brilliant. You tell me when you’re building this fancy gallery and I’ll be the first one there.” 

He might have died at the sincerity with which you smiled. No heart was meant to withstand such adoration brimming inside of it. 

“You know, I–” you paused, garnering some courage to find the words, “the signature I was talking about before? That wasn’t the one that had me looking at this. The cheese, I mean.” You gestured vaguely towards the canvas before you, though Eddie was unwilling to peel his eyes from the work of art before him. 

“Yeah? What had you looking, then?” He couldn’t believe that for the first time in his life, Eddie actually cared about what was splayed across a canvas. Whatever it was that intrigued you so, he was aching to know. 

“She painted herself in the reflection of the lid on the jug. Up the top… see?” Adjusting the items in your lap, you slowly rose to your feet, extending a hand out to drag the boy up with you. Eddie faltered only for a second, contemplating whether this one single touch would make or break him. Would the sweat of his palms disgust you? He was so nervous to talk to you, after all, to take this chance. He swallowed, slipping calloused fingers into your own until he felt unperturbed digits grasp his own, your expression unphased as you guided him towards the wall. 

You both paused a foot short, your free hand pointing upwards to guide his flittering eyes. Lo and behold, painted so delicately into the reflection of the jug, was a face staring back at him. His hand squeezed your own with untapped excitement, and Eddie’s mouth dropped. 

“Holy shit, that’s so cool. That’s really her?” 

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, that’s Clara.”

It was silent for a beat, the two of you soaking in the image before you; the woman in and amongst all the pieces of a life lived so long ago. It was a moment in history, much like the one the two of you were caught in now. 

Eddie marvelled helplessly, unsure what seemed to amaze him more; all these details that he never would have noticed if it weren’t for you, or the fact that you, a complete stranger, were still holding on to his hand as if it were something normal. For the briefest moment, he wondered if this could be normal, you and him. 

“I think this is the ultimate signature in a painting, just writing yourself into the story like that. It’s such a small thing, but… it changes everything, doesn’t it?” You broke the silence, voice a little dream like as you spoke. Eddie could only nod dumbly, a contented smile spreading across his face. 

“You wouldn’t wanna show me more of these, would you?” 

Eddie couldn’t stand the idea that you might walk away after this, back to your own life that until now had been so far away from his own. He wanted to walk the whole gallery with you, your hand in his, your voice whispering sweet nothings about the history and details of the world around you. 

The sheer excitement that crossed your features was an expression unmatched, never before seen. It was like he had asked you the one question you had been waiting for your whole life. Maybe you had been. Maybe no one had ever taken interest in the thing you seemed to love so much. He knew what that was like after all, his music had not been everyone's cup of tea. 

Maybe it could be yours.

“Oh, I– really?” 

“Only if you want to. I spent my whole time here trying to work out what made this stuff so special; I think you might be the one to show me. I’ll buy you coffee as thanks, if you like. I mean… I’d like to take you out for coffee.” 

He felt like a bumbling idiot, pausing to breathe an embarrassed chuckle. “You can also tell me to get lost at any time.” 

Eddie wasn’t sure if you noticed the way your hand seemed to tighten in his own, the movement causing his heart to beat in unsteady rhythms. It was something so small that seemed to shift his entire world – your hand holding his. 

Your head tilted with a smile. “You never said your name, y’know.” 

“Eddie.” He breathed out a little too fast. He’d have to kick himself later for it, because right now, he was too fixated on the way his foolishness seemed to make you smile all the wider. 

“Eddie.” You echoed, turning your body to face his own. “I’d love a coffee.” 

It took everything in him not to fist bump in triumph, his body aching to wriggle with the excitement that was slowly taking over muscle by muscle. How the hell had his morning turned out this good? 

“Sounds like a date, then.”

(images not mine)

“Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels” by Clara Peeters (ca. 1615)

[writingoddess1125]

You Give them Face Mask! 🧼

Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Usopp, Buggy, Mihawk

Fluffy Fluff

Just felt like more Fluff Fluff rn 😌 Enjoy!

Luffy

Trying to get this man into a face mask is like trying to wash a puppy- A happy struggle and pain in the ass.

"Luffy please" You say with a sad eyes- He will fold after this and let you. However he doesn't sit still so you use a sheet mask that simply helps with oily skin.

"This smells nice" He will say as you have to bribe him with snacks to keep it on for 15 minutes.

"It's rose scented" You say and wear one yourself to keep him still with some gummy candies. Will have trouble sitting still and will start chatting and walking in circles as he waits.

Once it's over he rubs his shiny face and talks about how squeaky he sounds. Utterly destroying your work-

Sanji

Sanji is more then willing to indulge you. Picking out some mild scents and you do a peel off mask since he has deep pores.

"Wanna do the charcoal mask?" You offer which he accepts after finding the scent pleasant enough.

"Do people do these often?" He will flirt and talk about the curiosities in your self care. Once the mask is done he will complain about the tightness.

"That means it's ready to peel!!"

"AHHH! OW!!?" He yelps in surprise as you pull the mask off his face. His face bright red and raw from this so you add some water based moisturizer to his face. You show him the mask.

"That was in my face!?"

Will both be disgusted and fascinated by the amount of gunk pulled from his skin.

Zoro

His skin is fairly flawless which is honestly frustrating since he cares so little for his skin.

You offer the face mask anyway and he refuses for a while bit does eventually fold. You use a snail slime mask on him since it will keep him skin looking flawless.

"This smells funny..." He grumbles as he will lay there listening to you talk, Half asleep and waiting. Will open his eye occasionally and ask a few questions about your interest in this stuff.

You wipe it off and help him rince his face. Skin is pretty much glowing at this point and You stare in awe. "So pretty!"

"I'm going to go train now-" You scream at him in protest in trying to ruin his pretty face.

Usopp

Usopp is willing of course, since the ocean air drys his skin quite a lot. So you use a shea butter face mask and tap his skin with your fingers to help it soak in his rough skin.

"You know I once got a spa treatment from Mermaids like this-' He will spin his tales as You work. When you do rince off the mask you add some nice skin oils afterwards to his skin.

You rub a lot of oil in his skin and he will pause his stories as he judt enjoys the time. Will smell the jar you're using and a softness will run over his face in fondness.

"This smells like the stuff my mother used to use-" He will say with a smile. His skin looks shiny and golden by the time your done, making him look sexy- in his own words.

Will come back regularly to have you treat his skin and will even talk about stories with his mother from time to time.

Buggy

Grease paint wrecks havoc on one's skin Buggys especially since he wears it so much. Needs some detoxing clay mask then a aloe moisture one to replenish. If you're doing his face might as well deep condition his hair as well.

He does enjoy the attention and doing them since his face feels better. Secretly he actually has acne marks from his youth and some scars from before he ate a devil fruit.

"What was this one from?" You ask pointing to a light scar on his cheek.

"Hmm 10- Me and Shanks were trying to figure out blades better. Let's say I learned knives can bounce back at you-" He says amused and letting you work.

"The skin around your nose is dry" Buggy will frown, thinking you're about to insult him since even though he trust you the most his insecurities will win- till you carefully paint the mask on those areas and smile proudly.

"There we go, all better" You say and kiss his hand to go apply your own.

Will sit and listen to you read outloud or talk with him about show ideas as he lays there with the face mask.

"Can we do this every night?"

Mihawk

"No-" He will protest, his eyes narrowing as you offer the mask to him. However after enough begging and ever Perona joining in at pestering him he will fold.

Mihawk gets treated to a full spa day when this happens- A hydrating honey facemask on his skin, cucumbers on his eyes and even a hair mask in his hair to make it softer.

Perona is overjoyed as well as she cleans his nails and applies clear polish to make them shiny and nice! Grumbles the whole time silently and ends up Downing a bottle of wine.

"Do not get used to this-" He grumbles as he takes his wine and drinks from it as you and Perona work. He kinda looks like a spa mom-

Once done this man looks runway ready- His hair is much softer so sets lower, his skin flawless and even his beard looks nicer. Stares at you and Perona deadpanned and sighs-

"Thank you both for the nice gesture..."

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.6 K Warnings: None Prompt: Time to wrap it all up, and perhaps receive one or two surprises. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 42: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Wednesday, December 23rd

The art store was small, but filled with colours all around. Small little black cabinets with golden numbers on top behind the counter, and walls lined with different paint pots and colours, a wall with wooden frames and delicately separated boxes that held paint brushes of all different sizes and shapes and, by the bits you’d read, also materials. 

At the top of the cabinets there was a small display of colourful markers and pens and other things that you knew muggles used but you weren’t too familiar with. Apparently, they used stick glue instead of sticking spells to adhere stuff. You wondered how much of this stuff Sirius actually knew about and vowed to bring him to this place with you one day. 

And while you did appreciate art, thoroughly – you’d gone to multiple museums, both muggle and wizarding through your trips – you had no idea what the difference was between gouache and acrylic, or why the “Rembrandt” that claimed to be made out of oil, where much more expensive than the “Winsor & Newton” ones that claimed the same. It had to be because of the quality, right? 

“Good evening, may I help you?” a young man, probably in his late twenties asked as he approached you. He was dressed in rather formal clothes and had a pair of thin-rimmed golden glasses. You would have probably considered him attractive if you hadn’t been accustomed to Sirius’ dashing looks or Remus’ lovely smile. You really were lucky to be surrounded by handsome and pretty humans, you thought, thinking of the rest of your friends. 

You must have looked as lost as a Bowtruckle in the middle of New York since he looked like he would try to be overly polite. 

“I’m looking for a gift, my boyfriend loves to draw, but I’m… not really good with all the supplies and stuff, I was thinking perhaps a nice set of pencils and a sketchbook. I’ve been looking through the paints as well, but I don’t think he’s the kind to do the whole canvas thing, at least not while we’re in school.” 

“Well, does he colour his drawings?” 

You thought about it for a moment, what he’d shown you were mostly sketches done in pencil, though there were some with an underlayer of red and or blue. “I think he uses some for the base of the drawings.” 

“Does he overline them?” The expression you gave him when he asked made him clarify it. “After the pencil sketch is done, does he add a pen or marker to finish up the details?” 

Sirius did not do that, but you also thought how complicated it would be to do such a thing with a quill instead of the pens and trinkets the muggles had invented so you nodded in response. “Yeah… not that often but I’m sure he’d like something to be able to do it.” 

“All right, follow me,” he said as he motioned to one of the furthest walls. “This is where we keep all of our sketchbooks, the thicker the grammage the stronger pens and markers it will hold. Also, some can even hold watercolour, not sure if he’s into that too.” 

“Do you have like – a book on the basics of watercoloring? I feel like he might actually be interested in that.” 

“We do,” he said with a nod and moved to the other side of the store bringing you a few options. You picked one of them and then looked through the sketchbooks. There were different sizes and colours and the pages felt really different on most of them. Some were especially made for watercolours and some were for drawing. You took one with about 100 pages for watercolour and one with the same amount of pages but with a bit less grammage for sketches. 

They both had a black cover with golden elegant trims that you thought would definitely go with Sirius’ look, although one opened from the side, making it more of a panoramic view while the other one stayed horizontal. You handed them in to the guy and he took them to the counter as you continued looking around. You leaned into the watercolour section and started to look at all the different options available. 

“If this is the first time he’ll do watercolour, may I recommend you buy a set?” he asked politely as he showed you a small wooden case, when he opened it there were all sorts of small blocks with different colours on them. “These are my favourite brand, but really gentle with beginners, they also come with this interesting thing,” he added as he handed you a small brush with a clear section at the top. “It comes with water, you don’t have to dip your brush that often, really useful once you get the hang of it.” 

“You have more of those?” you asked and he nodded, showing you the different sizes of brush ends. After a while, and with a lot of his help, you ended up selecting about 5 different brushes and the colours that you’d fill the small wooden box with as well, which you thought was fantastic since you could fill it up with whatever colours you chose and not a set palette. 

“You’ll also take the marker set, the watercolour book and the sketchbooks, correct? Anything else?” 

“Uhh… Am I missing anything that he might need?

“Does he draw portraits or landscapes?” 

You thought back of the Remus drawing he’d shown you, and then of the one you had chosen not to see. “He draws portraits and anatomy studies. Though I’m sure I’ve seen him doodle other stuff too.” 

“He might like this book then,” he told you as he handed over another book. It was about proportions and hand drawing and a lot of very advanced-looking stuff, you smiled. 

“This one as well, please…” he was about to finish the bill when you stopped him, looking down through the glass display and pointing towards something, “Is that a penknife?” 

“Well, yes,” he replied, “Although sharpeners are used more often nowadays, some people still prefer them.” 

“I’d like one of those as well,” you added with a smile. 

“Excellent.” The man gave you your total and then handed every single thing in a thick paper bag. “You said it was for a gift, right?” 

“Yes,” you nodded and he walked to the back of the shop, pulling a very elegant and sturdy black box, he eyed the bag as if calculating if everything would fit and then handed it over to you along with a black and gold ribbon with the name of the store repeated over and over. 

As he handed it over he pulled it back for a second and gave you a smile. “That young gentleman is very lucky to have you as a girlfriend.” 

“I think I’m just as lucky as he is,” you responded with a small smirk as you took the box. 

“Would you like me to call you a cab?” 

You thought about it for a second. Your house wasn’t that far, and with a short levitating spell you wouldn’t have to carry much stuff either, but the Knight Bus did mention they’d be very busy and you had been walking all day. “Yes, thank you.”

The man called for one and you waited inside the store until the cabbie arrived. You gave him your address and he took you straight there. You took the lift of your building, using your wand to unlock the secret –magical- floor your parents had purchased in London and waited. 

When the two, golden doors of the lift opened to your drawing room, you sighed. Leaning down to take off your shoes. “Mom? Dad?” 

No answer. “What time is it?” you whispered to yourself as you looked at the clock, quarter past ten? That art store surely has late closing times, you thought as you leaned back down to pull your bags up and drag them to your room. 

There was a note on the table along with what looked like a delightfully looking salad and steak. 

We’ll be home late, serve yourself. See you tomorrow darling.

You sighed and after placing the bags on the table, and using a warming spell on the food, you ate. Once you were done, the plate disappeared from the table and instead, a chocolate cake showed up. You smiled, at least they knew you liked sweets. You took a few bites from that and took it, along with your gifts, to your room. 

That’s when you remembered you had promised to tell your friends when you arrived here so you quickly scribbled a few notes. Sending your owl –Resse– back to the Potter’s and Barnaby –the family’s owl– to Beth. Then you took some Floo powder and leaned over the fire. 

“Tom?” You asked as you peeked through his chimney. 

“Sly sprite?” He asked as he leaned over. “I was starting to worry,” he said as he left a book on the side. “You got home, all right?” 

“Yeah!” you said with a smile. “And I got a bunch of good stuff at the store too, it was worth it.” 

“It better have been! Beth is home too, we stopped by hers first.” 

You chatted with Tom for a little while more and ended the call when you started to yawn and he followed right after. With that, you went for a quick and warm shower and then back to bed. 

Thursday, December 24th

There was a soft knock on the door, you stirred on your bed but didn’t wake and then there was another one. “Sweetheart? Breakfast’s ready, come eat.” 

“On my way,” you said as you sat on your bed and rubbed your eyes a couple of times. The day was bright, you’d forgotten to shut your windows at night and now you had the perfect view of the Thames through your window. You thought back to Hogwarts and how all the splendour of it had been made by magic, while the splendour of London had mostly been made by muggles. 

The high skyscrapers, the Ferris Wheel across the river, the towers, palaces and bridges, all muggle-made, and without magic, it was fascinating. You didn’t understand why wizards had so many prejudices against them –aside from the whole burning on steak part, muggles seemed to be quite incredible and determined people.  Perhaps you should have taken that muggle studies optative. 

“Sweetheart?” you heard your father’s voice, a bit more stern than your mother’s. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you said as you shook your covers off and grabbed your wand from the nightstand. “As if they hadn’t been home hours after I got here,” you mumbled as you fished for a pair of slippers under your bed. 

By the time you got out of your room both your mom and dad were sitting on the living room table. Your mom was wearing a beautiful cocktail dress while your dad had a perfectly fitting black suit on with a small cape, draped elegantly behind his chair. You were still wearing a band shirt you had stolen from Sirius a while ago, and that you had been wearing under Remus’ jumper before the trip. “Lovely to see you,” you said with an awkward smile, “it’s been a while.” 

Your father looked up from his newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand only for a second, nodded and then went back to read. Your mom gave you a sympathetic look and nodded for you to sit down. After a couple of minutes, your dad bent the newspaper and placed it on the side of the table.  

“We’ve heard plenty of your Hogwarts Adventures,” your father said looking at you. “You’ve been doing a masterful job at maintaining our house’s name relevant.”  

You frowned at that, that had never been your intention. 

“You were incredible in the broom race though you lost,” your father said. “And you’ve won two quidditch matches–” 

“That was a team effort…” you said, your voice growing smaller as his hand dismissed you. 

“You’ve kept your grades high and you’ve even entered the duelling club…”

“Not to mention her Theoretical Magic grades,” your mom added with a smile. 

“And you’re dating one of the Black kids.” 

You swallowed. You had mentioned in your letters that you and Sirius had gotten along now that you were in the same house, but you hadn’t specifically mentioned you were dating him.

“The disowned Black kid,” your father continued. 

You straightened a little, you had discussed with your dad the things that happened back in your vacations with the Blacks. It hadn’t been particularly nice talk, but you weren’t going to back down, his political means could not be worth more than his morals. And things had been rather tense between the two since then.

When two people had such intense ideological differences and desires, they were bound to clash against each other, especially when those ideologies juxtaposed against the other often, being only furthered by the fact that you were –at least on breaks– living under the same roof. 

Your priorities had been wildly different and you weren’t shy about letting him know, which caused your relationship to deteriorate quickly. Not to say you –or him– had been particularly rude to each other, but you were much colder. It was almost Christmas, and you didn’t want to start a fight with him, let alone over something that you were most definitely not going to yield on. 

“I think it’s all right. He might have been disowned by his family but he still stays in contact with some of the other Blacks like Alphard and the other disowned child… whatever her name is…” Andromeda, you thought as you tried to process the fact that he had just said it was fine. “Just try to avoid mentioning him in tomorrow’s dinner. I’m sure Walburga wouldn’t be particularly pleased.” 

“Tomorrow’s dinn– Walburga will be coming?” 

“Of course not, they have invited us to their Christmas dinner,” he said. “It’ll be hosted in Rosier Manor, I believe.” 

“Whose manor?” You asked, your breath going short along with your question. 

“Mr. Rosier,” your mom repeated. “All important wizards will be there.” 

“I’d rather skip Christmas altogether.” 

“I’m sorry, darling. This isn’t a matter of preferences. You will go and then we’ll let you do whatever you please for the rest of the break. Visit muggle London as much as you want or dally with your friends, I really don’t care as long as you maintain your composure during tomorrow’s dinner.”

Your leg was bouncing slightly under the table. “I don’t believe I will be welcomed in that house.” 

“You will be welcomed because you are my daughter and I’m me,” he said with an air of finality. “We need to present a strong family front, play your part and you’ll be rewarded.” 

“Right, my part,” you said bitterly. You wondered if your mother was playing her part too, they were in love, that wasn’t questionable, but sometimes it felt like she became nothing more than an addition to his recollection of what a perfect life should look like. Did he marry her because of the love he felt for her or because she’d look like a delightful trophy wife by his side on political dinners? Had she not been as beautiful as she was, had she not been well educated, would he have married her either way? 

You wondered, when had Silas become the man he is now? When did his greed for power become so intense he would sacrifice his morals to achieve it? When you were smaller, you thought they loved each other, even now, you saw when they looked at each other with those adoring eyes, but… there was a tale of sacrifice weaved in between their story, and with one party constantly bending to the other’s wishes, you weren’t sure you could still call it love. 

When devotion became toxic, was it still something that came from love, or had it become something else altogether? 

“Indeed darling, we ask for nothing more than one night. Then you will not be bothered, free to go wherever you want and with whomever you please. Does that sound like a fair deal?” 

You sighed and nodded, “One dinner.”

Your mother smiled at that, letting out a nervous breath and then reached for your hand. “Your clothes for tomorrow are already in your closet, I also got you some nice potions and make-up.” 

“Thanks, Mum,” you said with a short smile and looked at your food. It looked delicious, it was French toast with berries and fruit on top –probably there to appeal to your sweet tooth and convince you to go– but you didn’t feel hungry at all. Especially not at the thought of having to go to Rosier Manor. As if you didn’t see enough of Evan at school, now you had to go see him on the break as well, bIoody brilliant. “Breakfast was great,” you said as you stood up. Both of them decided to ignore your almost intact plate, “I’ll be in my room in case you need anything else, you know like me playing the role of the perfect child of the politician if your friends come around or whatever.”

Your mom gave you a reproachful look while your dad gave you an impassive one, you raised your eyebrows at the two of them, almost tauntingly before you turned around, walking back to your room and letting the door close behind you gently –it was not the inanimate objects fault that your parents were acting like pricks. 

You sat on your bed and took a deep breath before you saw a small owl by one of your windows, you let him in and took the rolled parchment from his feet before feeding him some water. 

Dear Vix, Hope this letter finds you all right, Sirius was moaning about you going along Beth and Tom and not inviting him to buy Christmas stuff it was draining! Now I was not going to write to you about it because he said he would punch me in the face but I had to write anyway since mum and dad wanted you to have our address so you could come here through floo anytime.  Hope you’re having a great time, Sirius and I went flying with Pete today (he lives a few houses from us, did we tell you?), and while it was nice not having to worry about Sirius distracting himself from snogging you, we missed you still.  Mum and Dad send greetings to your parents, hope you’re also having a blast.  Your bestest friend, James P.  PS. Mum sent this tea for you, she said she thinks you’d like it with how much sweet stuff you eat and stuff.  PS 2. Love you, but I bet you’re missing me more <– That was Sirius. 

James’ stupid letter made you chuckle, especially the last bit, as if it had been necessary to point out that Sirius had been the one to write it. You placed the letter into a small box in your bag and smiled as you walked to pick up some of the stuff you’d be giving your friends as their gifts.  

You picked up some wrapping paper and started wrapping all of their gifts, the owls would have to do a couple of trips to take them all to their place, but you’d make sure to leave them plenty of food throughout the night, so they could continue their trips and the presents would be at your friend’s beds in the morning. 

You had gone through most of the smaller gifts first, writing small, and neatly written Christmas cards on them. Then you went for the bigger ones, the books you’d gotten for Lily, some of the stuff for Mary and Marlene, James’ pack, and of course, Remus and Sirius’. 

It wasn’t until then, that you realised how overboard you had gone with your gifts. You’d gotten Remus so many books, both magical and muggle, that you almost felt guilty you hadn’t gotten Lily and James more stuff. And then you tried telling yourself it was because Remus would spend Christmas alone and he deserved at least a bit of happiness, you weren’t deliberately playing favourites. 

And then Sirius’ pile was clearly a mess, you had all the music you’d gotten, the shirts, the penknife that you wanted to engrave with his name (you were researching for the right spell to do it) and a bunch of other stuff for him. Besides, you still wanted to make the playlists, so before you finished packing the bigger boxes, you started testing the recorder. Now there wasn’t exactly a step by step guide on how to record music, but there was a small booklet that showed you how the thing worked and you spend the rest of the day figuring it out, listening to music and making a playlist for each of your friends. Using all the songs you thought they might like.

When you were done with that, you continued packing all the stuff. Deciding to send all the music back to the boys’ room at Hogwarts so they could leave it on Sirius’ stash. Well, all of them except for the David Bowie tape you had specifically gotten for Sirius and that would look great with his shirt and the rest of the gifts you’d gotten him. 

You went out to get some food at some point during the day, and there was another note from your parents telling you they were off at an event. Well, good riddance, you thought as you went back to your room with a sandwich in your hands. You picked one of the books you’d gotten for yourself and you spent almost the rest of the day reading it while jamming to one of the playlists you’d made. A copy of the one you’d made for Remus since you thought it went well with the book you’d chosen to read. 

You fell asleep before your parents got home, with the book still in your hands and the music playing softly in the background until the cassette ran out of tape and was softly ejected by the machine. The sound it made had been so soft it didn’t wake you at all. 

Thankfully, you had remembered to leave enough water and food for the owls, since they had spent all night doing trips back and forth to your house and your friends’. 

Friday, December 25th

You woke up by being pecked in the face by a very big and very angry owl. 

“Oi!” you complained. “What’s wrong with you?” The owl chirped and picked you again, this time on the ear. “Bitch,” you mumbled as you pushed him back lightly, only for him to pick you in the finger again. 

You gave him an upset look and he pulled back just a little, tilting his head towards the window, and the lack of food and refreshments. 

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been attacking me non-stop?” you asked as you stood up from the bed, failing to see the pile of wrapped gifts at the end of it. The owl chirped in response, a scowl that you weren’t sure was his natural face shape or an actual scowl directed towards you. “I’m sorry,” you added, “Barnaby and Reese must have eaten them all. They did many trips last night, you know?” 

The owl chirped again, a little angry as he flew towards the window, as if saying «I too flew many trips last night» looking as indignant as a Towny Owl could. You added a few of the special snacks you kept for Reese just to keep him from biting you again. You looked at the name tag and realised who the owner of the owl had been. 

Eun-ji, Minho had told you about her, she was his family’s owl and apparently, the name meant something like “kind”. So much for a kind owl, you thought as you looked at her, gobbling up Reese’s treats. You leaned over when you noticed there was a small letter attached to his feet and took it in your hands before the owl flapped his wings and left. 

Merry Christmas Star Seeker,  Hope you’re having a great time. Thought of giving you a special thanks for that one time you –quite literally– pushed me towards my crush and got us to start a conversation, that, well, you know how great it ended!  Even for a Gryffindor, you’re really nice, so I thought of getting you something for you to get some more hate from your fellow Gryffindor, Eun-ji must have left the gift near your bed.

You turned to the side in the middle of reading and stood agape, there was not only a green and silver wrapped gift in what looked suspiciously like the shape of a snake, but there were also a bunch of other gifts wrapped in all sorts of colours. 

Anyway thanks for everything, hope you have fun and all. I’m looking forward to beating you all next time we play,   Love,  The one and only, and your favourite Slytherin, Minho Cha. 

You rolled your eyes at the last bit, it had been very Slytherin of him, but since you knew Minho, you also knew he was playing it off as a joke on his own house, which made a joke inside a joke and you thought it was actually kind of funny. 

You took a deep breath and walked over to your bed. There were all sorts of gifts prompted there and you decided to unwrap Minho’s first. There was a small, green snake plushie with a bow on it that had a small pendant with something written on it:  “From the snakes that love you dearly,” and then it had the names of all of your Slytherin friends: Minho, Comet, Nox, Reggie, and even some you weren’t expecting like Dorcas and Solacis. You thought it was an adorable little thing, even if –and you were certain of this– your friends would absolutely hate it. Well, not Lily, she’d also think it was adorable. 

And thinking of her, was that you picked the next gift, wrapped in pink and yellow paper, and with her a small dedicatory on the corner, you instantly knew it was from her, her neat and perfect handwriting being the dеad giveaway. You smile as you read her small dedication. She wished you a very, merry Christmas and promised to tell you everything about the train with James as soon as you saw each other in person. She wrote something along the lines of not being able to put it on paper, which made you laugh. 

When you opened the present you were thrilled, it was a small leather notebook, dark red with golden trims and your name on the cover. Not Vixen, not Starshine, or any of the other nicknames that you had come to own and love since you arrived at Hogwarts, but your name. You smiled as you traced your fingers over the letters. There was a pen on the side, golden and apparently of some interesting muggle technology that wasn’t that popular in the wizarding world. You thought it was fascinating. When you opened the notebook you realised there was something written, again in her handwriting. 

You’ve had more adventures this year than I’ve had in my lifetime. I think it’s time for you to start writing down some of them, in case you ever want to revisit them. If journaling is not your thing (which I feel like it would be because I know you), you can just use this notebook however you want. You know grocery lists, songs for mixtapes, your favourite lyrics, poems, quotes, Sirius’ doodles, your doodles,  dried flowers, stickers, whatever you want, it’s your space, and you may use it as you wish! Love, Lily

You thought the idea of having your own journal was brilliant, you always admired her for keeping hers so incredibly neat looking, and perhaps being able to let some of your feelings go on a blank page would be better than keeping them bottled up. You doubted you would be nearly as consistent as her, but you decided to add your first couple of words in there, detailing the gifts you’d gotten and the few you still had yet to open. 

You’d gotten a box of your favourite candies from Mary and some incredible quidditch trading cards from Marlene, but she had also added some makeup to her gift because if not you and James would have gotten the exact same thing and you were her favourite between the two. You got a spellbook and a muggle prank book from Tom “to further your career” according to him. There was a large, embossed book from Nina, which you discovered was an annotated version of one of your favourite books and a small set of runes from Sybil. You had gotten her a deck of cards and a book about premonitions. 

There were candies from Nox and a muggle book lantern from Neil Perry, you had both complained at some point about reading with your wand and you thought the solution he’d found was adorable. Peter had gotten you a book about canines, packed along with a small fox-themed bookmarker and a note that said “Thank you for not busting my make-out session and Merry Christmas.” He also added, “PS. maybe with this one you’ll be able to tame Pads.” Which had you wheezing with laughter for a while. 

It took at least a minute to go for the next gift, it was a small box that said to be handled carefully. You opened it according to the instructions. “Shut the fuck up!” you said the moment you realized what was inside. A small Felix Felicis vial. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you repeated over and over again. “How did he even get his hands on it?” 

You picked up the paper from behind it, there was a small note. 

Okay say it: aside from Sirius, I AM your favourite Marauder.  You might be wondering, “How the hell did James get his hands on this?”. Well dear, I must say, I have contacts.  AKA my parents are expert potioneers and I somehow convinced Mum to brew one and that’s how I got my hands on it.  Now, I could have given it to any of my friends but I get the feeling you might be needing some of this soon enough. You know, from things I’ve seen and such (please don’t waste it on a quidditch match, though). Anyway, I know you’ll use it well, hope you have a very Merry Christmas!  Your favourite marauder AND bestest friend,  Prongs. 

You chuckled when you finished reading and went back to look at the vial with incredulity. Brewing one of these potions was arduous work, and it took weeks, which meant James must have had convinced Effie to do it even before she’d met you. Never underestimate James Potter, you thought as you grabbed onto the vial and placed it around your neck with a chain, casting a disillusionment charm on it so it wouldn’t be so obvious you had it with you. You thought the gift was brilliant. 

After that, there were only 2 gifts left. You picked the one with a silver bow first. It was a square box, about 12” wide, and had been wrapped in the same paper as James’, which made you guess who it might be from. There were chocolates and a small letter on top, neatly closed and with your name written on the back with Sirius’ almost perfect calligraphy. There was also a paper covering something, but you picked the letter up first. 

You know, I tried writing a love letter, but James wouldn’t stop making ridiculous comments about it not being profound enough and I feared I’d end up writing something close to the painfully ridiculous letters he used to write to Lily so I had to stop myself.  Who would have thought it would be that hard to put thoughts into words? I suppose if I were like Remus it would come out much easier but, unfortunately, you’re stuck with me. Actually no, fortunately you’re stuck with me, I’m delightful.

You laughed, he’s not wrong. 

Anyway, I suppose what I wanted to express in those dreadful attempts of being a poet was that I’m incredibly thankful that you came to Hogwarts and that you came back to me. I’m grateful that you tolerate me and my moods and that you love me for who I am, flaws and all. I wasn’t sure I’d ever found that kind of love, one that I even doubted it existed, and yet you’re always there to tease and make me laugh and– I already sound like James, but you know what I mean. You always know what I mean.  As you see, I am far from a poet, but there is something I like to do and I thought that perhaps, you’d enjoy it more than this terrible love letter.  You know, you and Remus were the first to ever see a sketch from my book, and I was feeling all sorts of things after I offered, and yet, you were there, reassuring me and telling me I didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to. You know Walburga, it wasn’t much of a choice for me, so it truly meant the world, and fed me the courage I needed to let you see that part of me. And when you two finally saw it and praised me for my skills, for what I did with my own hands… You make me so incredibly gleeful, it’s almost scary how much power you could hold over me. But frankly, I’ll let you hold it all you want.  All right, enough of the sappy stuff, Merry Christmas Starshine, you know you shine brighter than my own star. Hope you like your gift.  Love,  Sirius 

See the letter here

You read the letter a few more times, smiling at the little details and jokes Sirius had sprinkled all over. And then you pulled on the bit of tissue paper covering the very last thing in the box and when you finally saw its content you couldn’t help but swear again, “Son of a bitch!” you whispered. 

There were still some small pieces of paper over the small portrait, and you carefully brushed them out to be able to lift it from the box. The image was a hand-drawn portrait of you. You had a big smile and were looking at what would be the camera if it were an image. It looked like it might have been from one of the pictures from Marlene’s party although Sirius had changed the outfit, you were wearing an oversized sweater and his leather jacket. You could tell it was his because it had one of the enamel pins you had gotten him as a gift on the lapel. 

There were touches of colours in the strokes, not quite painting the drawing but rather giving it relatively bright edges that made it look special, unlike any other doodle. And of course, he had framed it, it was a simple yet elegant frame, dark oak and with small carved details on the sides. On the left bottom corner of the drawing, there was something written in French: 

À l'étoile la plus brillante.  Amour, 

And then, instead of his name, he signed with a small and elegant star doodle. You smiled again, it was one of the loveliest things you’d ever gotten, even if it was a portrait of yourself, the fact that Sirius had been the one to draw it, made it the most special of things. There were portraits upon portraits of you in your house, with magic that allowed you to move and smile, and even talk sometimes, but none of them held as much value as the frozen drawing Sirius had given you. 

Eventually, you placed it on your night table and picked up the last gift still sitting in your bed. His box was smaller than Sirius’, about the size of a book, which had you assumed he had gotten you something along the lines of that. 

You opened the book and found a small, pocket-sized book. It was a Sreath Bàrdachd, according to the golden script at the top. You hadn’t quite realised as you pulled it from the box, but it was handmade. You looked at it in shock as you flipped to the 50+ pages, all in carefully and methodically written cursive, his handwriting. 

Later you realised it was something between a book of poems and a compilation of quotes from different books. You admired the booklet for a few more minutes when you spotted that there was a small letter, still waiting for you inside the box. You pulled it off and broke the seal with a small sword letter opener Nox had given you as a gift. 

As you did, a small chain fell from the letter and you picked it up. It was small and dainty, just long enough to wrap around your wrist, which made you wonder how he’d guessed the size. The chain was simple, and it broke off into two different sections, one with a small crescent moon and then another one with a small star. It also had one small gemstone in between the bigger charms. You looked at it with a smile and held it in your hand as you read the letter. 

Hey there, Little Witch,  Hope you’re having an incredible Christmas. By the time you read this, you’ve probably seen the Sreath Bàrdachd, and knowing how clever you are, you probably already know what that could mean. Yes, It’s a book of poems, but also a bit more than that.  I knew Sirius was making you that incredible gift of his, and I didn’t want to fall behind. Prongs didn’t tell us what he got you but he seemed pretty confident he’d have the best gift of all. Did he?  Never mind, don’t tell me, it’s a silly competition. Either way, I thought you might like having one of these. Mum used to have one, which is why I know they exist. She told me a good friend gave it to her and she has kept it ever since then. I remembered borrowing it from her once when I was little, and she taught me how to carefully flip through the pages as she read to me. She also mentioned it was a silly girl’s thing but I thought it was amazing, and went on to make my own.  Although wonky and, with quotes from children’s books, she thought I was quite a mastermind for making it by myself. Of course, I put a lot more effort into the one you have with you now. Or perhaps the same effort but with better skills. If you’ve flipped through the pages, which I assume you have, since you’re incredibly curious, you’ve probably seen some familiar quotes.  There’s stuff from books we’ve both read and stuff that only I have read but that I thought you might like. Some of my favourite poems too, and some quotes from movies that only you’d be able to get. There are even lyrics from songs, some that we really like, some that Sirius has heard so many times that I already knew them by memory, and since the two of you like similar music, I assumed you’d know them too.  Also, there’s a small bracelet in the letter. I’ve cross-charmed it, in case you ever lose the Sreath Bàrdachd (I truly hope you never do), the gemstone will shine as you approach it. I’ve also added a few luck charms that, while they won’t keep you away from trouble –I don’t think anything could– they may give you some luck while navigating it.  Don’t hit me for saying that, you know it’s true.  Love,  Moony.  PS. Prongs told me about your little quarrel with Sirius on the platform, Sirius definitely misses you more.

See the letter here

By the time you finished Remus’ letter, you were smiling as brightly as you had when you read Sirius’. You were so lucky you had found such incredible people in Hogwarts. Your bedsheets filled with torn wrapping paper were a testament to that. You spend the rest of the afternoon listening to some more music and reading through the book Remus had made. 

He had been especially careful with his handwriting which you thought was adorable, and there were a lot of quotes from Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Grey. He had written in pencil –so you could erase it if you wanted, not that you would– that it was your fault he was obsessed with his writing now. Taking poems and quotations from both, the book aforementioned and The Ghost of Canterville. You hadn’t read the latter yet, but you were almost counting the days to go back to school and ask him to lend you his copy. 

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and you had to leave the warm comfort of reading and listening to music in favour of changing into the clothes your mom had chosen for you. You sighed as the alarm clock you’d set earlier went off, and then went straight towards your closet. The dress she had picked was simple, yet elegant. It wasn’t a long dress like the one she’d probably wear, but a more youthful one with clever intricate details on the sleeves and a midi skirt.  

“Thank god it has sleeves,” you whispered to yourself as you pulled the edge of the sleeve of Sirius’ shirt up. While your skin looked almost smooth, the lighter (almost silvery) shapes where the new skin was growing over the gush Moony had made were pretty evident. You supposed makeup and a spell could make them less visible, at least for a while, but that would have probably taken you a lot more time to achieve. 

You plopped the black dress on, smoothing the sides as walking towards your vanity where your mum had left all the potions and make-up. You sighed, remembering how much more fun it had been to dress for the Gryffindor parties than it was to dress for this one. With the black dress and the pearls on your neck, you felt a lot more like you were about to walk into a funeral rather than a party. My own funeral, you thought with a laugh when you remembered whose house you’d actually be going to. 

You grabbed a pair of red, not-too-high heels, put them on, and took another look in the large mirror by the window. You looked lovely, at least there would be no complaints from your parents on that aspect. What they might complain about was the fact that you took a bag with an undetectable extension charm and filled it with a few of the books you’d gotten as a Christmas gift. You also took the journal Lily had given you and Remus’ Sreath Bàrdachd. And you weren’t sure who’d be attending that party but you sure hoped you’d be able to sneak into a corner and read a book rather than having to interact with some of the most disagreeable friends of your parents. 

“Sweetheart, are you ready?” your mom asked from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, coming,” you said as you grabbed a few more trinkets and dumped them in your bag, just in case. 

You were about to leave the room when you saw a small glistening thing in your bed and you went straight to grab it. It was the bracelet Remus had given you, and even if it took you a while to put it on, and you continued looking between your wrist and the door as you tried to get the clasp to do its job, you thought it was worth it. I could really use that extra luck. You thought. You accommodated the necklace Sirius had given you and that you never took off and then took off James’ potion and placed it on your bag since it might be safer there than around your neck. 

One last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in order and you walked out towards the living room. 

“You look delightful, darling,” your father said as he spotted you walking out of the room. 

You gave him a half shrug in response and then managed to mutter a “thanks” that you hoped didn’t sound as bitter as it felt. After another moment of silence, your mom grabbed her bag and finished clipping on one of her earrings. 

“We’ll take the floo?” you asked. 

Your father shook his head, “They’ve sent over a Portkey,” your mom explained and motioned to the table, there was a small, fancy-looking invitation right in the middle. 

“Nice,” you said as you used your wand to levitate the object and move it right in between your parents. Perhaps if it had been floo, you could have sneakily said James’ address instead of Evan’s and escaped the party altogether. Once there, your parents wouldn’t make a fuss about it in order to not make your insubordination evident. But of course, you weren’t that lucky, and you’d have to take the portkey and you’d have to go to the party. 

“In three,” your father said as he moved his hand towards the invitation, “two… one… go.” 

The three of you placed your hands on the invitation at the same time and you felt the very familiar pull on your lower back, in less than a second, the entire world distorted around you, and then, you weren’t in your house anymore.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei @xluansstuff @boo8008 @angelmixer @voteforintensedreams @allons-y-molly @aremuslupinsimp @imaginexred @writingshae @nyanwyn @poetrypirate @crazyhorseforgot @saturnhas82moons @ryeyeyer @itsthequackshire @maqqiekwon @desikudisworld @pastelorangeskies

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A/N: Aww that was so cute wasn't it? Now it's time to strap on, we're about to dive head-first into the darkest side of the story, and it's going to be fun and sad and just a rollercoaster of emotions in general. Love, Lils xx

Read more Marauders Fiction

[howtotwirlaknife22]

Ghost boys w/ a chubby s/o:

A/N: to the anon who wanted fluff and cuddling, this is fluff but it is also nsfw so I will eventually make a pure fluff cuddle piece!

Warnings: ❗️NSFW BELOW THE CUT❗️

Hesh:

My man don’t discriminate.

“They’re called love handles for a reason babe!”

He’s the sweetest, he will praise you up and down and will kiss you all over.

God forbid you ever talk down on yourself, this man is ready to defend you from yourself with his entire being.

He loveessss to cuddle with you, he loves the warmth you give off and he loves to wrap his arms around your waist and squeeze your belly gently.

He has the softest touches, and he would literally break jaws if anyone ever spoke negatively about your body.

Best bf™️

His favorite place to finish during the nasty is on your belly, and he’ll rub it around afterwards with his cock.

Logan:

He’s similar to his brother, he loves the warmth you give off and he loves to give you little squeezes as he walks by you in the kitchen.

Again, he loves to cuddle with you.

He’ll lay in between your legs and wrap his arms around your torso, kissing and nuzzling into your neck.

He’s the master of making you feel self confident, he’s your #1 hype man.

He lives for gripping your thighs as he has your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you.

Keegan:

Loved and worshiped is an understatement.

This man loves your curves, and he particularly loves the way you look in form fitting clothing.

He WILL slap your ass while you’re doing any activity.

Yoga? Cooking? Bending over to pick something up? All free game for him.

If you’re ever insecure about the way you look he’ll grab you by your hips and pull you against him, whispering in your ear about how gorgeous you look and tilting your chin up so you can look at yourself In the mirror as he whispers praises to you.

This man will hold you against the wall as he fucks you, shushing your cries every time you whine about being too heavy for him.

Kick:

Kick loves your curves, he thinks you look like a goddess.

No, like a literal goddess. He thinks you look like a renaissance oil painting.

Kick is very good at photography, and when you mentioned how you had never had any photos taken because you felt too insecure for it, he jumped at the opportunity.

He took gorgeous photos for you, and some ventured into some…suggestive, territory.

He made sure you knew you were gorgeous and held you close to him as he kept one arm wrapped around your waist and the other on the back of your head.

He loves to sit up against a wall as you ride him, both hands gripping your waist as you bounce on his cock with your tits in his face (tits man all the way).

Merrick:

This man is a chubby chaser through and through.

He has a few stretch marks of his own since he’s a big and tall dude, so he knows how you might feel about your own and he does his best to make you feel loved.

He loves to kiss you everywhere and loves to make you sit on his lap.

“But what if I crush y-“ “shut up.”

He’s actually a very good cook, and he always gently encourages you to eat when you’re feeling guilty about your weight because he wants to make sure you aren’t neglecting your body’s needs.

He will fuck you while you’re both laying on your sides, slowly pumping in and out as he growls in your ear.

You always worry your larger hips was what prevented you from doing that position, but it turns out you were just with the wrong men.

“Can’t ride without the right equipment sweetheart..”

Taglist: @blacktacmopsi @keegansshark @forsworned @milkteaarttime

Hope ya’ll enjoyed :) inbox is open!

~💌

[cicerfics]

Re: the headcanons I shared in this post...

Man. I really do enjoy headcanoning Q as the World's Worst Date.

Like, I adore Q. He's my special baby boy. And I think Bond adores Q, too. I think Bond believes Q is the best date.

But on a date with anyone else, I feel like Q just sucks so bad.

First of all, there's only a 30% chance he'll show up. He may get busy in the labs and forget he had a date. He may have one of his eternal and recurring 'work emergencies' (which he always refuses to explain). One of his cats may develop a slightly upset tummy, and of course Q is not going to keep the date if one of his babies might be ill! Never mind that you booked this restaurant six months in advance or that those theater tickets are nonrefundable and cost you £200 apiece!

But even if he manages to keep the date, I feel like Q is still just The Worst.

He will talk, very passionately and enthusiastically, about some really boring topic his date absolutely does not care about. (Might be something to do with physics. Might be some obscure detail related to 17th century French oil painting. Might be something about cat biology. Who knows! Q has so many interests and opinions, and he would like to share all of them!)

He will 'well, actually...' you. Not with malice! Not to mansplain! Just because he thinks being accurate and factual is extremely important, and of course you want to know if you're mistaken about something...don't you??

He will debate things over the dinnertable. He will provoke a passionate, determined, bare-knuckle academic debate at a candlelight restaurant while a violinist plays in the corner, because that is what's fun for him and he forgets this is not always fun for everyone else.

Q is extremely cute and extremely kindhearted and extremely loyal and really a lovely partner overall! ...But he literally never gets asked on a second date.

Until he meets James H. Bond, who thinks it's very fun and interesting when Q infodumps at him about nanotechnology! He delights in Q arguing with him about increasingly pedantic things, stubbornly refusing to cede any ground whatsoever!

And of course Bond understands about cancelled dates and work emergencies. (He is probably at HQ, too, dealing with the same emergency!). And of course he would not expect Q to keep a date if one of the cats are unwell.

Honestly, I think Bond is very contemptuous of the men who previously dated Q and foolishly declined to ask him on a second date. (You couldn't handle it when Q argued with you for 20 minutes about the aesthetic merits of neoclassical architecture? Skill issue, tbh. Bond is built different. Arguing is such a fun activity! The best part of any date! Needling and pestering and provoking one's partner is the height of enjoyment! Truly, some people have no appreciation for the finer things in life...)

IDK, I just like it when 00Q are meant2be in the most eccentric of ways.

[waterfallofspace]

Allergic To Concepts

Is anyone else still into the M/agnus Archives? Maybe, maybe not, but I have had this fic sitting in my google docs for months, and I just finally managed to get myself to finish up the last bit, so here is part one of a possible two part fic, if I can ever manage to get myself to write the next part!

So, if anyone wants, please enjoy a little Allergic to concepts Jon. aka, Jon is so allergic to dogs that just the idea of them gets him a bit worked up~

I'll never be over this podcast, and I might start sharing small (tiny) drabbles of these guys if anyone would be interested <3 or even just to start coaxing myself back into writing~

Characters: Jon, Martin, Tim, and Sasha Word Count: 2.7k

“-so to conclude, we absolutely, most certainly, cannot do that,” Martin finishes, hands woven into his hair. Seems to happen more often nowadays; getting a job you’re not exactly qualified for tends to bring on a touch of added stress. What brings even more stress, however, are the faces staring back at him, twin smiles painted across worryingly calm canvases. Seems once a poet, always a poet, even in your own thoughts. 

Tim chuckles, mischief running through his eyes. “How do you even know that? You been stalking our new boss?” 

“W-well no, it’s just that…” Martin starts, beginning to study the floor as his rambling starts to take over. “Well there may have been an… incident, of- of sorts, with a uh… well it was, I was trying to open this door, but see I was holding files, and there was this dog, and they kinda just- well I was trying to stop it but it got in and- so I went to Jon’s office and he was just kinda… and then I-” 

“So what?” Tim interrupts, mercifully saving Martin from his own tongue. “Why should his issues stop us from havin’ a good time?” With a snap of his fingers, Tim casts Sasha a devious wink. The colour seems to drain from Martin’s face as he holds up a shaking finger, aiming somewhere behind Tim’s shoulders. 

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Sasha mutters, her smile never wavering. 

Spinning on his heel, Tim turns to greet the newest arrival to the hallway. “Fancy seeing you here, boss! Burning the midday oil?” 

Jon pauses, papers nearly spilling from his crowded arms as he fumbles with some keys. “That’s not an expression. And what are you all doing cramped in the hall? Don’t any of you have work to do?” 

Martin nearly keels over as Jon’s glare settles against him, seemingly deeming him responsible for this lapse in progress. As if! In fact, he’d been the one begging them to get back to work. Honestly, Jon should appreciate the fact that he talked them out of-

“Actually, we’re thinking of heading off for the day,” Tim cuts in, leaving Martin’s mouth nearly hanging open. Had they not just gone over why this was a horrible idea? As if to answer his unspoken question, Sasha joins in with support for Tim’s cause. Martin’s pretty sure there’s actually a gap between his lips. 

Jon, having opened the office by this point, merely stops and stares. Seconds pass, though it feels more like minutes. There appears to be some sort of staring match between the three of them. 

Finally Jon breaks the silence with a short… well, it’s hard to call it a laugh, more like a huff. His posture tightens as he attempts to pull himself to his full height, casting Tim a wary glance. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Quite serious in fact! See, me and Sasha have been thinking,” Tim pauses, gesturing to the aforementioned with a sickly sweet smile. Merely performance charm, which given the eye-roll she shoots back, Sasha’s well aware of. “All of us here need a chance to bond.” 

“Bond, you say,” Jon’s monotone voice offers no insight to how he’s taking this suggestion. As Martin’s mouth begins to dry, his hands start working their way back into his hair. 

“Indeed!” Tim continues, seemingly oblivious to Martin’s rapidly increasing heart rate. “We’ve all been stuck here together, figured we should become more of a team, you know? A team-building exercise you could call it. Something to get us more on the same page.” 

“And what is this ‘team-building exercise’ you have in mind?” 

Well, his heart may have been racing before, but it’s not anymore. In fact, he’s almost entirely convinced it’s just stopped completely. Jon’s eyes meet his own, and Martin drops his gaze fast enough to leave him dizzy. 

This time Sasha speaks up, her coy tone doing nothing to alleviate the heart attack symptoms Martin’s now convinced he’s feeling. “An animal rescue cafe. They rescue dogs and cats, the ones that need rehoming, and bring them there so you can get to know them before you adopt. One opened just down the street from here, and me and Tim have been looking into going. We figured, might as well drag you and Martin along with us.” 

Jon’s glare narrows further, a single hand coming up to rest between his eyes. The movement is completed by pushing up his glasses with a sigh. “And how exactly does drinking tea in a room full of animals qualify as team building?” 

“You can tell a lot about a person from the way they treat animals,” Tim offers. “Not to mention the fact that there’s a whole study about how psychopaths are more likely to hate cats, which is mostly due to the fact cats have willful behaviour.” 

Martin can almost taste his heartbeat at this point, a fact he’s finding quite alarming. Still rummaging through papers, Jon steps into his office. Much to Martin’s chagrin, they all seem to be following him. 

“Are you suggesting someone working in this office is a psychopath, Tim?” Jon continues, huffing out another sigh as he notices the entourage entering his office. Jon’s glare lands on Martin once more, something he’s almost gotten used to at this point. 

Laughter begins to flow from Tim, Sasha joining in with a mild chuckle. “Of course not, but hey, this job’s all about researching things that probably aren’t true. Better safe than sorry, right?” 

Seemingly the only one noticing Jon’s growing apprehension, or maybe just the only one that cares, Martin can’t peel his eyes off their boss. Unaware of the scrutiny, though perhaps expecting it nonetheless, Jon pushes up his glasses again. Martin doesn’t miss the way he lets a single finger brush against his nose during this action. Nor do his eyes skip over the light scrunch forming at the bridge of said nose. 

Oblivious as always, Tim’s still going on about the cafe. Something about which animals are available, what tea they serve, scones, and more useless information. Sasha’s typing something in her phone, apparently fact checking his current ramblings. Still, all of that fades into the background as Martin’s attention is drawn to Jon once more. 

At first, he can’t figure out why he’s watching. Jon didn’t speak, and from his posture he hasn’t made any significant gestures. There doesn’t seem to be anything specifically that should have caught his eye, and yet-  

And then it happens again. Jon’s brows tighten, his eyes begin to flutter shut, and his lips part just enough for his tongue to peek out between them. There’s a beat of silence, then a single breathy inhale, barely noticeable above Tim’s monologuing. 

“ihh-” 

Just as quickly as it began, Jon crushes it back once more, a hand roughing swiping against his nose. There’s a quiet feeling of– perverse excitement as Martin watches him. Why? No earthly idea. It’s not as if there’s anything specifically… exciting about the action. There’s no physical stimulation beginning, to phrase it politely. 

Still, there’s something… almost electrifying, about bearing witness to a moment so personal and private. As if the only person in the room is Jon, and he’s opened the door for Martin to join him in his world. Which, as you think about it, just becomes more and more– creepy as hell! Damn it! 

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Martin manages to peel his gaze away from Jon. Zoning back into Tim’s rambling, he just barely catches the tail end of a rant about different toppings on cinnamon buns. His silence was entirely unnoticed. Understandably, given only Tim had said anything in minutes. 

“Personally, I’m a fan of the regular cream cheese icing,” Martin offers, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Tim as another soft sniffle sounds behind him. The others don’t notice it, Sasha rolling her eyes as a light begins to dawn in Tim’s. 

“Well, interesting you say that Martin, they actually have those at the cafe down the street! Isn’t that such a wonderful coincidence?” Tim swirls his body towards Martin, casting a playful glance back at Jon as he continues. “Wouldn’t you like to stop by and get yourself one of those delicious buns?” 

Martin feels his face begin to pale again, and barely manages a meek, “W-well… I don’t need to… get one right now… but if you want-” 

Thankfully he’s saved from himself as a gasp sounds out from the desk. Everyone in the room turns, Martin included, just in time to see Jon duck into his wrist with a tight, “ih’nGXt–uih!” 

“Bless you!” Sasha calls, Tim and Martin echoing the sentiment. A flush begins to spread over Jon’s cheeks, but it’s brushed off as he waves a hand, continuing to scribble on some papers. Casting a glance over to Tim, Martin sighs as the mischief floods the other man's face. He’s very clearly not letting this go. 

“Was that actually a sneeze?” Tim laughs, mimicking the sound as Sasha suppresses a giggle. 

Jon keeps his head down, pen still moving across the paper in disjointed movements. “It was in fact a sneeze, yes. Happens to everyone from time to time, no need to make a big deal out of it. Now, I believe you were going to a cat and do- hiHh! rescue cafe?” 

The hitch manages to escape from Jon’s tight grip, his posture shuddering slightly with the force of continuing the sentence. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Martin that just the word dog seems to leave him breathless. 

“A dog cafe, yeah! You’re coming too, right boss? Come see all the adorable little puppies?” Tim offers, gesturing towards the door. Apparently it didn’t go unnoticed by him either. 

An audible gasp sounds out, and all eyes turn back to the rapidly hitching boss. Jon manages to stifle the first one almost silently, only a rush of breath escaping at the end. 

“Bless you, boss.” 

Jon waves a hand, wiping away the water beginning to flood his eyes. “Was just sihh… sighing, Tim.” He finishes the statement with another stifle, this time his whole body jerks along with the rough exhale.  

“Really? Because that sounded like another sneeze,” Tim taunts, poking a finger towards Jon’s face. “And given the way your nose is twitching, you seem far from done.” 

Jon seems to consider debating, but another frantic hitch decides it for him. Giving up the ruse, he ducks into his shoulder with another, “eh’tNGxt–uh! ih’NTchhuh!”  

“Bless yo-” 

“eH’DGZSHhh –uu!”  The volume makes everyone jump, seeming to surprise even Jon. 

“Oh- mby apologies, I seeb to be… hiehh–” Jon trails off, one hand frantically searching for a tissue, nose visibly trembling behind the other. In a move of uncharacteristic pity, Tim pushes the box within reach. Jon mumbles out a thank you, before swinging his chair around for a touch of privacy. 

The silence is almost deafening, cut up only by the rustling of fabric as Jon attempts to subdue the onslaught. “eh’nGNt –oo!” And fails miserably. 

“Do- maybe do you want… well possibly we should, actually I think you might- I mean he might want–” Desperately trying to find a way to fill the space, Martin rambles on, gaze bouncing between all three of his coworkers.

“Martin,” Jon cuts him off, “just say it.” 

The annoyance Martin’s come to expect seems unaffected by the breathy quality of Jon’s words. Unless you notice the flushed nature of his ears, which… is kinda hard to miss when his nose is starting to match. 

“S-sorry! I just figured you may want a touch of uh… privacy..? You seem… itchy,” Martin offers, already beginning to back out of the room. 

Jon glares, lining up a retort before pausing as the first syllable comes out muffled with congestion. A sharp sniff and quick rub later, he continues in an easier tone. “I’m quite alright. No need for such concerns.” 

“I mean- If… if you’re sure…” 

Tim interrupts this time, draping an arm across Martin’s back. “You heard the boss, he’s fine. Now, onto that cafe?” 

Before Martin can get a word out, Jon stands from his chair, dropping the tissues in the wastebasket next to his desk. Sasha chuckles out her approval, sticking her phone into a pocket and beginning to exit the office. Tim follows suit, leaving Martin standing alone with Jon. 

There’s a beat of silence, Martin watching, horrified, as his body refuses to move an inch, silently waiting for Jon’s approval. 

“Well?” 

It’s not exactly an invitation, but it’s more than enough to send Martin scrambling for the door, muttering more sheepish apologies under his breath. If Jon heard them, he gave no indication, busy rustling through a desk drawer. A few more muffled stifles make their way through the noise, no indication given they were heard either. 

As Martin makes it into the hallway, he catches Tim waving from the door. He’s propping it open with one foot as Sasha waits outside, once again on her phone. Martin waves back his acknowledgement, before gesturing towards the kitchen. Tim simply shrugs, calling something about ‘not waiting around’, before joining Sasha in the crisp autumn air. 

Making his way back to the kitchen, Martin pauses at Jon’s door. He’s not eavesdropping, just… listening in, to see if Jon’s alright. It’s his boss after all, and he’s an assistant! He’s supposed to… assist! Perfectly natural thing to do, isn’t it? 

A harsh double pulls him from his spiralling, Jon’s voice coming through audibly in the groan that follows. Alright, enough listening in, this is starting to feel more creepy than curious. 

With what little confidence he can muster, Martin works his way through his plan. The mugs are where they always are, but the water in the kettle was a bit more cold than a proper cup of tea would allow. Flipping the switch, Martin began heating it, and hurried out of the kitchen to his desk. He picks out a fairly bland tea, Jon seems the bland type… right? 

Another few sneezes sound out from the boss’s office, and Martin almost starts to feel guilty for still being in the office. It’s obvious Jon assumes he’s alone, if not from the sneezes themselves, from the groans that come after them. Ever the stickler for a Professional Appearance, he’d never allow himself to be seen or heard in such a state willingly. 

The kettle sounding pulls Martin from his thoughts once more, and he pours the water over the tea bag. Moving carefully, as not to spill, he makes his way back to Jon’s office, knocking softly on the door. 

“Yes?” The reply is sharp, a frantic sounding shuffling occurring as Martin begins to slide open the door. 

“Hey, yeah sorry I just- you sounded like… I just thought that maybe you’d want… you might need some…” 

“Spit it out, Martin,” Jon sighs, giving his nose a subtle swipe. Unfortunately for him, this seems to have been the wrong choice. His nose twitches, eyes beginning to unfocus, and Martin finds himself pausing for the interruption. At least, until Jon gestures at him to continue. 

“Well, I just ma-” 

“ih’tNGT–uu!” 

“Bless you. I just made you some tea, it seemed you cou-” 

“hHUh’dNT–uh!” There’s a pause, Jon’s breath catching dramatically, before he swivels around in the chair and aims a harsh, “eH’dZSHH– eih’DSCHhhh–oo!” at the fistful of tissues he managed to grab. 

It wasn’t exactly quiet, and Martin finds himself flinching against the noise, but holds it together as he places the mug on Jon’s desk, hurrying through the rest of his sentence. 

“Seemed you could use some tea, bless you again by the way, anyways I’m gonna head off with Sasha and Tim, I’ll see you there I guess! Or, well- not just me, we’ll all see you there, as a group, if you choose to come that is! Which of course you don’t have to, though we’d lik-” 

“Martdin,” Jon, mercifully, cuts him off, congestion seeping through his words. With a deep sigh, he finishes his sentence. “Thagnk you. You mbay go ndow.” 

Taking the out, Martin gives one last nervous smile, sliding out into the hallway. Another desperate sneeze leaves him wincing, Jon’s vocal groan sounding out yet again. The poor guy sounds miserable, and Martin almost considers going back in and telling him not to come. If he’s this bad from just the thought… well… 

But he’s embarrassed himself enough for the day, and, albeit hesitantly, Martin heads off to meet Tim and Sasha at the cafe.

[llamagoddessofficial]

So we've seen your Error headcannons, can we get your Nightmare ones since you're in a romantical mood?

Oh can you.....

He's a very complex individual. Under all that rage, when he likes you and wants your company, he's actually a very calm, intelligent and eloquent lover. Princely, if you will. He likes hearing you talk, and is very good at roping you into chatting about your hobbies for hours while he just adoringly stares. He enjoys the arts, music, poetry... once he finds someone he wants, you'd never even know how much anger he's set aside.

(Unlike Error, he's aware that constant anger isn't a very attractive trait)

While he's first starting to develop feelings, it's one of those situations where you won't realise how much he likes you until you see the way he acts around other people. You might think he feels neutral about you, at best- he talks to you, but never about himself, seeming to prefer when you're the one talking. Maybe chortles at a joke every now and then. But overall, he's relatively quiet, relatively still-faced... not very outwardly emotional in any manner.

... Then you see how he acts around everyone else. Hair-thin temper that leads to physical violence with anyone who annoys him too long, dismissive and mean about any subject, he tells people who talk too long to shut up and makes underhanded cruel 'jokes' at their expenses. The same tentacles that curl around your hand or stroke your back as he walks by will grab Dust around the head and slam him into the ground because he made a poorly timed joke.

Nightmare has an eye for traditional courtship. Once his heart is set on you, expect bouquets, jewellery, fine evening dining, strolls through midnight gardens, flowery handwritten letters. He carries a locket with your portrait.

You would think his love languages are gift giving and acts of service, considering how often it seems to be the only way he shows love. But deep down... it's actually physical touch. He's just far too afraid to show it.

Nightmare would do well with a physically affectionate partner. Someone who'll cuddle up to him first so has an excuse to snuggle back. But someone less physical would also be good- sometimes he's afraid his aversion to touch will drive away a partner, and somebody who doesn't really mind either way soothes those fears.

You can't lie to him. Well, I mean... you can. But he can sense it, and he'll always know. Whether or not he lets you think he believes you is up to him.

He has a locked box in his castle full of sketches and small oil paint studies of you. You'll know he's finally totally comfortable with you when he politely asks if he can draw you.

His tentacles often act on his true feelings. Whether that's snapping out to choke Killer for asking if you top, or lovingly curling around you when he's half asleep.

... He's actually pretty childish. Especially when in love. Though he's good at hiding it under layers of highborn mannerisms, he fucking hates when there are any potential rivals for your affection. He tends to lash out against the 'rivals' in underhanded manners whenever you're not looking, then really lay on the charm and affection with you to ensure you're not thinking of leaving him. If you're asexual or demi it may not be that big of a deal because he's soothed by your lack of interest in others, but if you're pansexual or bi, it might be a genuine problem that needs addressing.

Call him "my love". He likes feeling like your one and only.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

How NoirPunk Meets - Hobie Brown x Noir!Peter Parker Headcanons

a/n: listen okay these two just hear me out- just listen i swear these two are perfect for each other on god i promise just trust me

also i be calling noir peter if thats okay i dont really see that much

—————————————————

So let's just be honest they're a large part of why the other sticks around in the society, and I wouldn't be surprised if -

Hobie was the one that finally got Noir!Peter to join

I really like the idea that Hobie was the thing that convinced him to join.

I mean, Peter has his own shit going on, he's not just fighting Goblin and the usual villains - he's actively trying to stop a fascist regime and thought system.

I could absolutely see the society approaching him multiple times, and Peter just declining. He's the brooding type to work alone, and (aside from learning about color), it wouldn't be surprised if he was just uncomfortable with this whole 'secret society of superhumans that controls the flow of history' thing...because, y'know

So as a last ditch effort, Miguel and Jess ask Lyla whose left and who's algorithmically their best bet at recruiting him

And Lyla is like '..You know who ;) '

Miguel is like 'Jesus Christ anyone but him' - because they barely send Hobie on missions for a reason!! He's a huge wildcard

and convincing Hobie to recruit someone else is a whole different story for another time

Hobie went to Peter's universe already planning to have him as an ally

It was only after they debriefed him on Spider-Noir and what he does that Hobie agreed

Even from his case file - which Hobie thinks it's creepy they have that but whatever - Hobie admired him and his activism

SO much of world theory and social understanding developed from the thirties onward, so already he'd feel a connection and understanding, being almost impressed by Noir

And despite what he lets on to Miguel, Hobie is smart and informed as fuck, and from his large knowledge of world history, so he already knew what he was getting into

But the first time he stepped into Noir's universe it was like turning the world on its head

It really shocked Hobie, which is pretty hard to do

It was like going from the world's loudest room to dead silence. It's a kind of serenity that kind of puts Hobie at ease. The rain, the darkness, the quiet, all that

Which is why Peter comes home one night to Hobie just chilling in his apartment like it's nothing

He's just laid out on the couch like 'Oh great, for a second I thought The Man was going to have you working all night.'

And like COME ONNNN could you imagine from Peter's POV

Working literally all night, tired as hell, coming home to the dark of his apartment with the rain outside, and he just finds Hobie, vibrant and pink on his couch, his color the only thing in the room

Usually Peter turned away all the others from the society, but he felt like Hobie might be different

So he let him stay, and offered to hear him out

But what's supposed to be a recruitment pitch turns into hours of Hobie and Peter at Peter's kitchen table, shooting the shit and talking about anything

Peter makes them some coffee as Hobie looks over Peter's book collection, smiling at the ones filled with Peter's notes and thoughts in the margins

Peter is almost taken a back, because Hobie is so bold and out there and worldly

He's surprised to meet someone actually interested in justice - real, actual justice - and equality. Someone whose ready to talk about it so openly and say 'hey fuck this amiright'

It's SO refreshing to Peter

He's impressed that Hobie has all of this vocabulary, describing complex ideals that were still being formed and whispered about in 1933.

In a universe full of rain and shadows and shades of grey, meeting Hobie is like falling into an oil painting for Peter. He's full of color and humor and ease and confidence - his humor is scathing and honest, and Hobie's the first one to make Peter laugh at a joke about anti-capitalism

The first night they meet they kinda just get lost in each other

And UHHHH yeah they keep going

Hobie comes back the first night and tells Miguel that he's 'still staking Noir out', not telling him they've actually met

And for the next four nights, Hobie came over to Noir's place, just to see him, and talk

Peter knows why Hobie's there, and Hobie isn't trying to hide it. In the beginning he tells Noir straight up that he's here for recruitment, that he thinks it's bullshit, and that eventually he's going to do something about it

But he asks Noir to join because, yeah, Hobie likes him a lot, and he wants to see him more. And he thinks he'd be one of the most valuable allies to have, ever.

Noir is literally his comrade.

And Noir agrees (, but he probably will have some terms and conditions to take up with Miguel later, like the kind of missions he will do, the amount of time he can and can't spend away from his dimension, etc)

But for the next four nights, they spend it just with each other, learning each other and trading ideas, drinking coffee in Peter's apartment and listening to vinyls

And they just make each other so soft

Sometimes, Hobie brings papers from his world to show Peter

The third time he visits, Hobie brings him a stack of zines - colorful little booklets full of collages and bold ink

On some nights, Hobie reads over Peter's first drafts at his kitchen table, watching Peter make coffee on the stove, the old-fashioned way

People at the Bugle start to notice that even if it's subtle, Peter seems more at ease and easygoing, and he has DOZENS of new, forward thinking ideas in his writing that he's excited about

Meanwhile Hobie's been in a great mood (which Miguel hates cause he's a hater like that)

He asks Hobie for a status report, and Hobie smuggly tells him that the missions accomplished

And Lyla is grinning her little ass off because OF COURSE she knew that algorithmically they're romantically compatible

(And YES Lyla sets up mission teams based on her own little matchmaker algorithm without Miguel's permission because she thinks its funny)

From then on Noir requests he either be assigned solo missions or missions with Hobie

And they go around HQ calling each other their 'partner' and neither refuses to elaborate any further

Mission partner? Dating partner? Partner-in-crime? ALL THREE.

__________

im obsessed with these geniuses. look at what they've done to me (and by they I mean myself I've done this to myself)

hi thxs for reading also this was not proofread so if you see a typo my adhd says no you didnt

[heavenlymorals]

Some artists that I think Arthur would really like cuz I'm kinda bored(aka, an excuse to show art history):

John Singer Sargent (1856-1925):

John Singer Sargent is an icon and his composition is legendary. He wasn't that focused on very intense detail as he was with form and it's amazing what he was able to do. Eye catching, yet unrendered. Realistic, yet simplistic. Though he paintings were phenomenal, I think Arthur would enjoy his charcoal portraits the most, though. They are so beautiful and I feel like Arthur would be fascinated by how Sargent was able to use tones to give the allusion of detail rather than actually drawing out the detail. I think Arthur would adore how Sargent made them feel so real with how simplistic the composition is.

Thomas Moran (1837-1926):

Thomas Moran is a landscape artist whose main muse was the vast American frontier. His most famous paintings are that of Yellowstone National Park and the gorgeous Grand Canyon. His oil paintings are colorful and vibrant and have so much emotion to them. Given that Arthur is often outdoors and is super connected to nature, he'd probably really enjoy Moran's oil paintings of higher elevation like canyons and mountains.

Alexandre Cabanel (1823-1889):

Alexandre Cabanel is a portrait artist who created some of the most iconic oil paintings to have ever graced our eyes. His academic style of painting focused a lot on detail and precise rendering, unlike Sargent. Given the general gloominess and the melodrama of his oil paintings, I feel like Arthur would really like the figures that Cabanel painted, especially considering how emotional they are. Arthur, being emotionally repressed, might connect even more with them because of it. Cabanel was a damn genius.

Ulysses S. Grant (1822-1825):

I know some of y'all are like "what the hell is Civil War hero and US President Ulysses S. Grant doing on this list?" Well, cuz he was a pretty dope artist too. In the few drawings we have from him, his main medium seems to be watercolor and his watercolor drawings are really unique. They focused more on composition than detail and they remind me so much of Arthur's own drawings, except they are in watercolor rather than lead or charcoal. I think Arthur might also enjoy how personal they all feel and how simplistic.

Winslow Homer (1836-1910):

Homer was an impressionist painter whose main muse was the everyday man and woman. His oil paintings are vibrant and full of life as they depict the everyday life of workers rather than people of leisure. Unrendered strokes from the brush put so much personality into the paintings and even life. Beautiful and bright paintings, all of them, but I feel like Arthur would connect most with the ones that depict land rather than the ones that depict water.

[lebenspurpur]

what do they smell like

AN: I know I did this before, but I need to correct myself. Plus, it was like 2 years ago, so..

ℝℤ 𝕄𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕖𝕝 𝕄𝕪𝕖𝕣𝕤

Most of the time, he smells like sweat and that sweet coppery odor of blood.

That changes whenever he actually decides to take a shower and change his clothes.

Suddenly he smells like nothing. And I mean nothing.

If you inhale deeply enough, you might get a faint whiff of sanitizer, like the kind they use in hospitals, but that's it.

You can decide for yourself if that's a blessing or a curse.

𝕍𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣

Paraffin wax.

So he smells like plastic and, like, the worst kind.

Maybe you need to convince him to use some bee wax candles for a change. Or some wax that smells like something nice, at least.

Which makes me think of another headcannon: Vincent hates the smell of cheap scented candles. He can not stand them. You'd think his nose might be desensitized to bad smells by now, but no.

The only scented candles he allows in his basement are the expensive ones, with real dried flowers or some good essential oils.

Other than paraffin wax, he smells like his body wash, which is the same as Bo's.

(You can not convince me they do not share one. Maybe buy him some nice shampoo while we're at it.)

The smell of the wax easily overpowers anything else, though.

𝔹𝕠 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣

Bo prides himself on owning some really nice cologne.

So, if he applies that, he actually smells really nice.

Other than that: cigarettes.

I feel like he actually has a nice smell, though. He smells like someone who'd call you sugar, if that makes sense.

𝕃𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣

I know, we have the ongoing joke of Lester smelling bad, but I've changed my mind.

Of course, after working, he smells very bad. Like a dead animal that has been cooking in the sun for way too long.

But he's a clean boy! After he takes a shower, he smells like a mix of leather and something flowery, airy. Kind of like a freshly picked bouquet of wildflowers. Don't ask me where that comes from.

When he's been crafting something, he also smells like hot glue and wood, but it's not powerful enough to be unpleasant.

𝔹𝕣𝕒𝕙𝕞𝕤 ℍ𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕖

Dust.

Like, you know when something smells old because it's been standing somewhere without being touched for too long?

That's what he smells like.

He doesn't need to, though. He probably has an arsenal of really expensive perfumes and colognes standing somewhere in that mansion.

After he meets you, there's a slight chance that he'll take more care of himself. And in that case, he will finally use those fragrances.

As soon as he does that, he smells like that mansion looks. Rich, educated, charming, handsome even.

𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕤 ℍ𝕖𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕥

Hay, dry earth, Tommy smells like a hot day on a field.

When he spent some more time in the basement, the smell becomes even earthier and damp. Like a crypt.

Though, most days the 'warm' smell is stronger and it's really wholesome. When you hug him, it feels like you're hugging a cat who's been lounging in the sun for a while and got all heated up. (I just want to hug him, man.)

𝕆𝕥𝕚𝕤 𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕨𝕠𝕠𝕕

Now, that man smells bad.

Rotting corpses, vomit kind of bad. It's not good.

When he does his makeup and actually showers, it's not that bad anymore. Then, he just smells like the makeup he applies (you know, the stuff they paint children's faces with?) and (probably Baby's) body wash.

𝔹𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕝𝕪

Baby loves sweet perfumes, especially when they have a fruity note (pun intended).

She has a few fragrances she always uses, and they make her smell really nice, and really sweet, kind of like candy.

If she doesn't apply those, she smells like lotion and body oil.

Pretty, that's what she smells like.

ℝ𝕁 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕝𝕪

Motor oil, leather and rain.

Motor oil from working on the trucks all day long, leather from his jackets. Where does the smell of rain come from? Don't ask me.

He smells really masculine in that sense, like a ride on a motorcycle.

𝕁𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕍𝕠𝕠𝕣𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕤

Do corpses emit smell if they're still alive?

Well, Jason does.

He smells like wet earth, rain, and the forest. A really grounding smell overall.

Hugging him feels like laying on the forest ground after it has been raining for a while. In a nice way, though.

It's really refreshing, and really pleasant.

𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕘

Amanda uses really nice body wash. Something that smells like pine needles.

Other than that, she smells like old metal and disinfectant.

Old metal, because she spends half of her days designing traps and disinfectant because of John.

[artful-aries]

Can I please have How they flirt headcanons for zhongli scaramoche and Childe? Thank you in advance 🤗

Hello hello!!! I have no excuse for taking so long to put out content other than my job killing me and getting distracted with oil painting

How They Flirt With You (Zhongli, Scaramouche, Childe)

Zhongli:

His flirting is as refined as osmanthus wine

He is very gentlemanly when he flirts; chaste, grazing touches, deep, meaningful looks, and his willingness to jump at your beck and call are very prevalent as he seeks to woo you

Zhongli wouldn’t overload you with compliments, that would make it seem like he only cares for your physical appearance or that he is too obsessive. When he does compliment you, it is pure poetry that falls from his lips

“Your eyes shine like the purest noctilucous jade. For all of the wonders of Teyvat, you are certainly the most captivating.”

He knows his compliments can come off pretty strong in their own right, which is why he keeps them to a minimum unless he is absolutely sure that you are okay with it

None of his flirtations would come across as needy or desperate, he is calm, cool, and collected as he effortlessly but respectfully flirts with you

Being as old as he is, he does not clam up when it comes to things of this nature, nor is he afraid of the possibility of rejection. It’s all part of the mortal experience that he wishes to see more of

The unfortunate part of Zhongli’s flirting is that he can be incredibly long winded and wind up telling you the whole history of processing silk flowers into usable fabric before he can think to stop himself

He tries to pay attention to what you’re interested in, but if a topic comes up that he’s knowledgeable about, he can’t help himself but to delve deep into the topic with you

It’s not that he’s trying to show off in a conceited way, but Zhongli does like showing you that he is knowledgeable and capable in a wide variety of subjects. He just has a hard time reigning himself in once he gets started.

If you decide to flirt back with him, his demeanor isn’t going to change much other than he’s going to have a soft smile permanently plastered to his face

The way you flirt amuses him, but it makes a warmth seep deep into his heart, and his hands tingle slightly as he practically eats up your flirtations

He wants nothing more than to kiss you in these moments, but Zhongli is going to bide his time and wait. Like stone, he knows his feelings are not subject to change for a long, long time, but mortals can be fickle with their affections. He wants to wait and see how serious you are about him before trying to take things to the next step

Scaramouche:

Chant “tsundere” in the mirror three times and Scaramouche will appear

When he starts developing a crush, he’s going to deny it to himself for a while. What use is a crush to him?

As the feelings only continue to grow as he’s around you, he has two options; avoid you, or bully you (these are clearly the only two rational options for when you have a crush on someone)

Scaramouche will attempt to avoid you first, going weeks meticulously avoiding you before he finally just gives up. It’s clearly not working for him, if anything, it’s making his thoughts of you worse

So, dropping back into your life like he never left in the first place, he starts bullying you

He never gets physical and doesn’t say absolutely horrendous things, but he will frequently imply that he thinks you’re an idiot or a weakling

You might genuinely think he just hates you, and rightfully so. Yet if you ever actually get genuinely upset with him, especially to the point of storming off or giving him the silent treatment, Scaramouche will internally panic

He won’t apologize, at least not outright, but it is very easy to see the shift in his demeanor. He makes sure that you’re in earshot to hear him say nice things about you to others, or he just sort of hangs around you as though he’s silently begging you to forgive him

When you do finally start talking to him again, he can’t help but feel a little giddy even though it makes him feel weak and pathetic

From there, his flirting actually begins, but he’s certainly no charmer. Scaramouche is still as abrasive and hard to get along with as ever, but he does random acts of kindness for you now. He’ll call you an idiot, but give you bundles of your favorite snack. He’ll scoff at you cooing over a cute cat, but will sneak a cat plush he made himself that looks just like the kitten you were cooing over the other day into your belongings

If you decide to flirt back, he’ll laugh and ask if you’re serious. When you confirm that you are in fact serious with your words, a blush will develop on his cheeks, and he will finally be rendered speechless instead of running his smart mouth

Childe:

This man is quite the tease, and it’s hard to tell when he’s just looking to get a reaction out of you or when he’s being genuine in his flirtations

He’s touchy to a fault. He sees no problem with hoisting you up randomly over his shoulder and carrying you off somewhere. The way you fluster and struggle against his hold his just so cute to him, you can’t expect him to behave when you give him such nice reactions

If you gave indication that you would genuinely start hating him for being so handsy, Childe would reign it in. As much fun as it is to push your buttons, he doesn’t want you to hate him

His touchiness doesn’t completely die, but it’s a lot more gentle and sweet, more like proper flirtation rather than borderline manhandling you

With his connections to Northland Bank, he likes to spoil you just a little bit with gifts. Nothing extravagant since you’re not dating yet, but just nice little sentimental things to show that he’s thinking of you even when he can’t pry himself away from his work

Childe also flirts by showing off, especially when it comes to fighting. He makes sure that the fight is never too dangerous or scary, but he wants you to see him absolutely decimate his enemies

It’s like he’s showing you how strong he is, that you can rely on him if you wanted to

That being said, he definitely gets a little cocky and gets himself hurt a time or two, but that just gives him an excuse to play up the injury a little so he can get you to tend to him

He will totally give you flirtatious winks and teasing remarks as you help him apply bandages to his bare torso, saying that surely you must have been dreaming of the day he got hurt so you could do this

This would be your chance to turn the tables on him and get him flustered. Shoot him a teasing remark back or let your hand ghost over the curves of his muscles and the man will turn as red as his hair

Childe loves a competition though, and will ramp up the flirty comments and gestures until you give up and walk out a blushing mess or you give in and finally kiss his stupid lips already

He knows that no matter which way things will turn out, it’ll be all the more thrilling for him

The Harbinger totally doesn’t mind staying in the flirting stage for a while; he almost likes the chase more than the reward. Almost.