#my brother was like ‘well maybe they’re just all ones from light’s notebook’

[meandmypagancrew]

So the Death Note replica my friend got me has some pages already filled out with various notable death scenes from the series and can I just say

Raye Penber had beautiful handwriting

[curufiin]

*brandishes a notebook and mechanical pencil* tell me everything

OKAY. SO. (oh my god this is so long)

VERY basic lore there was this guy called Fëanor who was apparently just the SEXIEST fucking elf ever. Like canonically one of the hottest guy to have ever existed.

For Fëanor was made the mightiest in all parts of body and mind: in valour, in endurance, in beauty, in understanding, in skill, in strength and subtlety alike: of all the Children of Ilúvatar, and a bright flame was in him.

He had seven kids (and a LOT of war crimes), topic for another discussion because we’re mainly focused on the two that everyone is freaking out about. For reference their names (in birth order) are Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, and Amras. We’re gonna look at Celegorm and Curufin specifically.

So, one of the most notable things about Celegorm and Curufin is that (aside from literally maybe three occasions), they’re basically always mentioned together.

“Celegorm was almost always in the company of his brother Curufin / Curufin was almost always in the company of his brother Celegorm” — Tolkien Gateway

In fact, in an early draft of Silm, Curufin was actually the fourth son of Fëanor, and not the fifth. Not sure why he changed it but yeah, they’re basically best friends on top of being bros. They ruled a kingdom together and committed many war crimes together and it was good!

Celegorm, specifically, is extra special. He and his brothers belong to a group of elves called the Noldor, which is kinda like a nationality/ethnicity. They’re noteworthy for having dark hair, and they looove making things like jewelry and other forge objects. In fact, Fëanor was so good at it that if he wasn’t, this book wouldn’t even exist but anyway. Celegorm is special because he literally just straight up fails to be a typical Noldo because why the hell not I guess?!?!?

In the book he is given the epithet “the Fair”, and in canon it’s up for debate whether fair is used in the sense that he’s super hot or fair as in light colored in reference to his hair. However, multiple early drafts state that he has “golden��� or “gleaming” hair, or some other wording, but either way his hair was noted to Not Be Black even though Parent 1 had black hair and Parent 2 had reddish hair.

But up there starts / amid the throng, and loudly cries / for hearing, one with flaming eyes, / proud Celegorm with gleaming hair / and shining sword — The Lay of Leithian

“Then Celegorm arose amid the throng (p. 169). In QS this is followed by ‘golden was his long hair’. In the Lay at this point (line 1844) Celegorm has ‘gleaming hair’; his Old English name was Cynegrim Fægerfeax (‘Fair-hair’), IV. 213. The phrase was removed in The Silmarillion text on account of the dark hair of the Noldorin princes other than in ‘the golden house of Finarfin’ (see I. 44); but he remains ‘Celegorm the fair’ in The Silmarillion p. 60.” — Christopher Tolkien’s nonsensical ramblings I pasted from Tolkien Gateway because I don’t have some of these books. Basically every mention of Celegorm with something about his hair color

In published Silm, Christopher removes the mention of Celegorm’s hair color and I will kill him for it, but as he said he is still referred to as Celegorm the Fair in the narrative, so Tolkien probably did intend on “fair” being used to talk about his hair color. Popular fanon often draws him with either very light blonde or straight up white hair as well. This is a whole nother thing but all you need to know is that this guy’s blonde and it’s SUPER weird.

The Noldor also love making things. There are many, many mentions in the book of their love for making things and shiny gems, and I will put a few of them here

“The Noldor also it was who first achieved the making of gems…”

And it came to pass that the masons of the house of Finwë, quarrying in the hills after stone (for they delighted in the building of high towers), first discovered the earth-gems, and brought them forth in countless myriads; and they devised tools for the cutting and shaping of gems, and carved them in many forms.

Many jewels the Noldor gave them, opals and diamonds and pale crystals…

So on and so forth. The Sons of Fëanor are even said to visit the house of Aulë (god/patron of rocks and gems and making shit) often. However, Celegorm was the noteworthy exception, because he likes hunting, and instead followed the teachings of Oromë, patron/god of animals and hunting shit and what have you.

but Celegorm went rather to the house of Oromë, and there he got great knowledge of birds and beasts, and all their tongues he knew.

He even got a dog from Oromë! Why is this important, you ask? Well okay it’s not but popular fanon tends to portray him as tall and strong and muscular, presumably because of the hunting, and i’m sure riding horses all day in Beleriand’s shaped up his thighs quite nicely. Anyway so that’s why Celegorm is literally Elton Prince. ONTO CURUFIN WHICH SHOULD BE SHORTER.

Curufin is named “Curufin the Crafty” in the book, and he “inherited most his father’s skill of hand”. He’s also his dad’s favorite son because they bave such similar interests (and temperament?), to the point that Fëanor gave Curufin the same father name he had, which is Curufinwë. Not a set up for daddy issues later in life, I’m sure.

Since Fëanor was such a renowned Thing Maker and toiled often in the forge, and since Curufin was said to inherit dad’s skill, you could probably assume that he also spent many long hours in the forge hammering away at whatever. And all that hammering (not the sexy kind sadly), on top of Hot Dad genetics, would probably mean that Curufin is also pretty hot and muscular. Personally I like to draw Curufin as being short and a little pathetic just for comedic effect but I’m sure he’s got some well formed muscles from all that hammer swinging and horse riding.

Celegorm and Curufin in fanon (and arguably even in canon even though their canon selves are a lot more grim and depressing) tend to have this almost cartoony villain bro vibes? They also tried to usurp their cousin’s kingdom city together, which was what I quoted in that other post of yours. This comic illustrates the more lighthearted version of their dynamic extremely well because in book canon… let’s just leave it at they’re criminals LOL.

Other cunty depictions of Celegorm and Curufin which will describe their dynamic way better than my words can.

This from the Lay of Leithian Rock Opera

Another one for good measure

Guys come on now

I’m sorry i’m looking at their VK page

Here Curufin reached for the crown and Celegorm moved it out of his way COME ON

They’re so fucking extra

Basically they’re like Jesse and James but a thousand times more evil but they have that vibe. Think funny, bantery, sometimes a little comically stupid (assuming you’re not putting them in book situations then they get real nasty real fast). Which means they’re the WWE bros. I hope this makes sense

[bakugotrashpanda]

Daydream Hawks x Reader Word Count: 951 College AU

A/N: A small, completely self indulgent something based on a conversation mindninjax, katsukikitten, and I had about who our best friends with no romantic attachment would be (Shouto for me) and somehow it devolved into College AU Shouto calling out my crush on both his brother and the professor

You never thought you’d be making googly eyes at your Anthropology professor, but here you are, 8am and ready to study… the man at the front of the classroom. The lights lower as the projector in the back of the room boots up and you’re glad for the darkness. Not only does it cover the rising blush burning up your face, but it also eases your migraine pain slightly.

You hadn’t planned on getting shit faced the night before, but when your roommate and Denki barged in with a bottle of tequila, you somehow found yourself going from being the voice of reason and babysitter for the growing number of drunk people in your room to being the drunkest. Somehow you ended up in the bathtub with a crick in your neck.

Professor Takami runs a hand through his blond hair and sifts through his notes. He was the only reason you actually attended your early morning classes. Normally, you would skip and teach yourself the material and only show up on test days. It was an hour five times a week, but seeing the man in his button up shirts pushed to his elbows made it worth it.

The seat next to you scoots out, and a warm body slides into place.

“Just in time,” you murmur and open your notebook, pen poised over the lined page.

Shouto slips his laptop out of his bag and opens it up. The screen dims automatically to match the light in the room. “I thought you would show up fifteen minutes late with a pair of sunglasses and a quad shot latte.” Even with the dim light of the room, you can see the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smirk.

You roll your eyes. “I’m more responsible than that and you know it.”

“You were supposed to babysit the others with me.”

“They’re getting more crafty,” you huff, “Next thing you know, you’ll be roped into it as well.”

“Doubt it.”

You’re about to argue and prod your friend into making a friendly wager when the professor at the front of the room starts speaking. His dulcet voice fills the small auditorium, and you’re enthralled.

Shouto on the other hand, stares at the words on the screen and his eyes glaze over.

With your chin resting in the palm of your hand, you absentmindedly chew on your nail. Professor Keigo Takami; the youngest professor to have tenure in the anthropology department, and the hottest professor by far. You won’t admit it, but you found yourself in one of the coveted 101 courses he teaches once a year, and that’s what launched your interest in anthropology - possibly a major depending on if he teaches the last 4 courses you need to bump your minor up to a major.

And it’s just your luck that he’s your advisor as well - another sought after position. Maybe you should drop by his office again and make sure that you’re still on the right track for completing your minor… and see if you can get a code that would guarantee you a seat in his other classes once registration opens in a week.

A finger pokes your cheek and drops you out of your thoughts. “Are you still drunk?” Shouto asks.

You bat his hand away and straighten up in your seat. “What? No?”

“Your face is red.”

“So?”

Shouto follows your gaze to the professor and his eyes narrow as he turns subtext into context. Turning to face you, he blurts out, “Do you like Professor Takami?” His voice is too loud for the lull in presentation as the slides change. All seventeen other students in the class stare at you - some obviously looking and snickering, others glancing at you out of the corners of their eyes before returning to their notes.

“Shhhhhhou!” you lightly smack his arm to get his attention. You can feel your entire face in flames now.

“What?”

“Your voice is too loud!” you hiss. You’d think that he’d get the hint. You’d think that he’d stop talking - especially in the middle of a lecture. You’d think he’d remember that you hate attention on yourself and this is the opposite of what you want.

You’d be wrong.

“I mean he’s better than my brother,” Shouto continues as you sink down in your seat as far as you can go without straight up lying on the floor. “At least the professor has a steady job and probably doesn’t live in his parent’s basement with his grow op.”

“Shouto!” you nearly scream.

“Mr. Todoroki,” your professor interrupts, a wry grin on his face, “While I appreciate you thinking this is a steady job, and I do have a place of my own, perhaps an analysis of my character can wait until after class.”

“Oh my god fucking kill me now.” You could cry. If you could, you’d run out of the auditorium and never return. Maybe take a year off until your classmates have all graduated.

Shouto returns to his notes, a mischievous smile on his face. The wheels in your head starts turning again, and you put two and two together. “You little shit. You did that on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shouto hums and stares pointedly at the screen. His fingers fly across his keyboard. “But I do know that he hasn’t stopped looking at you.”

Your own eyes hone in on Keigo Takami. Golden eyes lock with your own before sending you a playful wink. He never breaks from his presentation throughout the whole exchange.

“You’re welcome.” Shouto chuckles under his breath. “Now please go after him instead of Touya.”

[sondepoch]

HC: They see MC’s sketchbook!

Art. It’s a private thing. Showing someone your work is akin to showing them a piece of your soul, an insight into who you are and everything that lies within. So when the Obey Me! boys get a glimpse of your sketchbook, they find themselves wanting for more—and all in different ways.

Word Count: 6.0k

*Mild NSFW themes for Asmo & Diavolo

Characters: All Brothers + All Undateables + Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

At the beginning of the year, there is 0 trust between the two of you

Not only has he actively tried to kill you, but he’s already so suspicious of the pacts you’re making with his brothers that he can’t help but be wary every time you cross paths

So when he realizes that you’re always absentmindedly scribbling in a notepad every time you interact, he’s more than a little perturbed by it

100% thinks you’re secretly taking notes on his and his brothers’ behavior to use it against them

So, obviously, when he next sees you using it in his presence, he wastes no time in snatching the notebook from your hands

“Oh hey, Lucif—what are you doing?!”

“Nothing you should be concerned with, human.”

“That’s my sketchbook you’re holding!”

“Sketchbook?”

Instantly flips it open and sure enough, inside there’s nothing but doodles and sketches

luci.is.confuzzled.exe

He’s still convinced that there must be something incriminating in the book, so he continues flipping through it. But the more he sees, the more he realizes how wrong he is

It’s only when he flips to the section with his family that he begins to feel guilty

In the beginning, you just draw basic poses. Mammon, glancing at you over his shoulder. Asmo, posing for a camera. Beel, about to bite down on a hamburger. 

But the further he goes, the more elaborate the sketches get, and as he flips through the pages, he can feel the amount of work that has gone into each piece

And then he gets to the page where you drew him

Keep it lowkey, but he thinks his heart stopped for a second

He stares at the picture and wonders if that’s what you see every time he shifts into his demon form, because for the first time since his fall, he can’t help but think about how beautiful he looks. Everything looks so right in your art style, from the diamond on his forehead to the way his wings flutter out of his back.

It’s perfection

“I’m confiscating this,” He says quickly, not looking you in the eye.

He then escapes the room faster than you’ve ever seen, and never speaks of the incident again to you

But roughly a week later, you find a small red book on your pillow, and you know that it's a sketchbook from him, to replace the one he took

And even later—after the two of you grow close—you find your old sketchbook stored in his most secure drawer, locked away with a key he keeps hidden. And you know that he’s spent hours looking through the book on rough nights, through the doodles of him and his brothers and everything else you’ve ever drawn

And though he’s too proud to admit it, you know he loves your art 

Mammon

He found it when he was going through your stuff, absentmindedly checking to see if you had any valuables on you

And the moment he flipped open to see your little notebook of doodles, his mind went B I N G O 

He loves your art the second he sees it, spending a whole hour just sitting on your bedroom floor, flipping through the pages

Adores everything about your art style

And when he starts to see the little doodles you do of his brothers, he’s even more enraptured

You draw all the things he’s imagined but never seen: a sketch of Lucifer dressed in a onesie, snuggling a giant teddy bear. Beel, using a sleeping Belphie as a food tray for a pile of snacks as large as the sixth-born himself. Asmo with cat ears, being chased by Solomon, who appears to be a wolf.

And yet, there are no pictures of Mammon

Man is hurt by the fact that you’ve drawn all his brothers but not him. He’s your first man, after all. You should have been the first person he drew!

Gets a bit upset about it and throws your sketchbook back into the drawer he found it in, stomping back to his room with childlike indignation

Is just a bit petty about it afterward

“Hey, Mammon, can you walk me to school? Class starts in half an hour.”

“Huh? Oh, so now ya want me to do it, huh? Well, why don’t you ask Asmo instead?”

“Okay? I will???”

Soon everyone in the house has realized that Mammon’s being a bit off, and while it was nice at first to have peace and quiet from the resident troublemaker, you guys grow concerned pretty quick

And eventually, you go to his room to talk things out

Let’s just say that when you found out he’d been going through your stuff, you were not pleased. But seeing that he wasn’t going to be the mature one, you sucked it up and whacked the demon on the back of his head, telling him to “wait a second” while you went to “get something”

Cue the retrieval of your second sketchbook 

And when Mammon sees it, he’s not sure what he feels more of: guilt or happiness

Every single page in this second notebook is of him. Only a few are colored, but Mammon finds himself enraptured by even the casual doodles in the corners, where he’s doing little things like eating a banana or flashing the viewer a few Grimm

Man is touched. He’s never had anyone do this for him, and certainly not out of their own volition. So suffice it to say that when he tackled you for a hug that night, he didn’t let you go for a long time

And maybe some other stuff happened too. Who knows? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Leviathan

TSL

The second Levi sees you sketching in your artbook (after an incoherent stumble of words which you assume are synonymous with praise), the only phrase coming out of this man��s mouth is TSL

Begins begging you to draw fanart of the Shadow Lord, asking you to sketch him in different outfits, draw him in different poses, put him in various backgrounds, etc.

Basically wants you to bring his imagination to life

“Oh! Oh! Can you draw him baking a cake now? Wouldn’t that be so cool?!”

Absolutely does the wwooooooOOOOOAAAHAHHHHHHH sound effect every single time you show him your work, even if you’ve only made minor changes from the last time you showed him

He takes you on a spending spree, pulling up Akuzon and offering to pay for whatever supplies you want if you’ll just make him a super fancy poster

And so you start

It actually gets to be a pretty good way to grow closer: every day, after school, you head up to Levi’s room to work on the poster he asked you to make him. In exchange, he lets you borrow his manga and you guys watch anime together

Eventually, boi gets the idea of throwing Ruri-chan into the poster, and the second he thinks it he won’t shut up about it

“Oh, come on! You can do it—look, just put her in this little corner right here!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Levi?! Ruri-chan and the Shadow Lord are two completely different characters who are meant to be drawn in completely different art styles! If I mush Ruri-chan into the corner, it’ll ruin the poster’s dynamic!”

“But pleeeeeaaaassseeeee?”

Cue extra pouty Levi

Eventually, you agree to make a separate drawing of Ruri-chan for Levi to hang up next to the poster, because you think that otherwise, he’ll go crazy

When the date rolls around where you’re almost done with everything, Levi formally sends out an invitation to everyone of importance

Man invites everyone from Luke to Diavolo over for the “revealing ceremony” where he plans to hang the poster on his wall

Actually tried to get the demon king to come as well, but Lucifer stopped him before he could get an invitation out

When everyone sees what you’ve been working on for so many weeks, they’re all MEGA impressed because hello??? they did not know you were this skilled???

It quickly turns into a competition, with each one of them trying to outdo each other with how vigorously they can compliment you

And soon enough you find yourself swamped with requests from every other demon in the room, begging you to make them something as elaborate as you did Levi

Satan

It’s a system you guys have set up, where every Tuesday and Thursday night, you’ll sit in the common room on the couch facing each other and will simply open your books to do what you will

You always draw, and Satan always reads

And neither will bother the other until the grandfather clock chimes twelve times, whereupon you both bid each other goodnight and wait for the next session where you do it all over

Except for today, that is

“What are you drawing?” 

Ah, there it is

The one question you were hoping Satan would never ask

You subtly (incredibly awkwardly) change the subject, commenting on the color of Satan’s jacket to distract him from his inquiry, and he picks up on the hint, quietly huffing as he turns back to his book 

But the mild irritation he feels doesn’t let him fully delve back into the realm of the nonfiction novel he was reading, so he’s more than a little distracted as he goes back to reading about human anthropology

And it’s in this state of distraction that he notices the little glances you’re stealing every so often, before returning to your sketchpad

Yeah, it doesn’t take long for Satan to put two and two together

“Are you drawing me?”

An incredulous question, asked in such an offending tone

He sounds so irate by the fact that you can’t help but helplessly deny it, muttering something about drawing plants and flowers instead

But Satan doesn’t believe it, and in an instant he’s standing behind you, staring at the sketch in your hands which has oh-so-beautifully captured the essence of him on the couch, engrossed in a book with the light from the flames in the fireplace flickering gently against his skin

The anger at being drawn without having agreed to it quickly melts into a quiet awe for your skill

“Can I see your other drawings?” He asks gently, no longer irritated but actually impressed

“I-I’m not sure if you’ll want to—”

“Nonsense. Show me.”

And so you do

You hand him the sketchbook, avoiding his eyes as he flips to the very first page—and imagine his surprise when he sees that even that is a sketch of his face, though the artwork is significantly less advanced than the piece he just saw. Satan flips to the next page, and then the next, and the next, and sure enough: they’re all of him

“I-I just needed a model to practice my artwork on,” You mumble, gaze fixated on the couch. “And you were right there, so I couldn’t resist...and then I needed a model again. And again. And you were always there, and I know I never asked, but I’m sorry, and if you don’t want me to, I won’t—“

“Nonsense,” Satan murmurs, pressing a finger to your lips. His smile has never looked as sincere as it looks now, his gaze flickering back and forth between your face and the sketchbook in his hands

“I’ll be your model, if you so desire it. Just tell me how you want me to sit.”

Asmodeus

Your model for everything

You’re trying to draw the Hulk and you a good frame of reference? And you need a really muscular model? And Beel ABSOLUTELY fits the bill? 

Yeah no, Asmo’s your model

You want to draw a child? Someone small and short, roughly the exact same height as Luke (who is an ANGEL and would absolutely help you)? Yeah no, Asmo’s still going to be your model.

Want a cute guy? Asmo. Cute girl? Asmo. Cute animal? Still Asmo.

Man refuses to leave you alone - the second he learns that you’re an artist he insists on gracing your work with the holy sight of his body

Highkey wants to model nude

And you’d be lying if you said that he was a bad model—man can hold a pose for hours without moving even a little, his only fault is that he talks incessantly—but you can easily quiet him by saying that you’re drawing his lips - and the moment you do so, he’s suddenly he’s stiller than a statue,  doing his absolute best to remain frozen so that you can capture his perfection

Boi posts 100% of your content on his Devilgram, and while you were hesitant about it at first, now you’re just used to it

Thanks to him, you’re a lowkey celebrity

Like demons love your art style 

It’s apparently very refreshing and human-like as compared to the dark and dreary art found in the Devildom, so people go wild over Asmo’s Devilgram page for it

Man thinks that they’d go even more wild if you drew something where he modeled nude

In fact, it’s lowkey a business deal that the two of you have - you allow Asmo to post your work on his Devilgram (giving credit to you, of course), and in exchange he pays for all your art supplies, acts as your model (though that’s really more of him wanting to than it being your choice), and even goes as far as to keep Mammon apart from you while you work, insisting that you need “privacy” and “quiet” while you draw

100% acts like he isn’t even more chatty than Mammon when given the chance

On the bright side, it’s thanks to these weekly art sessions where you draw and Asmo models and talks that you’re always up to date on the latest gossip. You’re 100% caught up with the fact that Zahhak just found out he has another illegitimate son and that Baphomet just liked Rusalka’s post from fourteen centuries ago

So yeah, the two of you have a mutually beneficial relationship

Asmodeus still insists that one thing would make it better though: him modeling nude

But Asmo is a sweetheart about everything, and he goes out of his way to pamper you 

Specifically, your hands—after all, those are what work your artistic magic!

Expect him to always be peppering your dominant hand with kisses, massaging it whenever you look tired, giving you weekly manicures completely free of charge, all out of the goodness of Asmo’s heart

*ahem* and weekly requests to model nude

Beelzebub

a m a z e m e n t 

Boi is entranced

Like, he’s so mesmerized by your art that he’s not even paying attention to the food sitting right in front of him, simply opting to stare more intently at the drawing you’re holding up so eagerly

It’s quite beautiful, really: The seven demon brothers surrounding you, a reworking of a photograph Lucifer took a few months ago but in your art style. And for that last fact, Beel thinks he likes this version better

“Wow,” He finally manages to say, still too impressed to really think of anything else

He lets his brothers shower you in praise and compliments, silently nodding along and agreeing with every plaudit they thrust your way

But the moment you’re alone, expect to be scooped into his arms and carried to his room

Boi instantly wants to know the process

When do you draw? How long does it take? Where do you do it? How are you getting your supplies? Who pays?

It’s not so much the physical process he’s interested in, but rather the nuances of art that make your work look so you. He’s not interested in learning for the sake of doing, but simply for the sake of understanding because he already appreciates your art so much

Absolutely invites you to his room to have you show him the art process the next time you start working on a piece

And after the first time, then, he invites you back a second - then a third - and then the two of you have settled into a routine where after school, you come to his room and pencil away in your sketchpad, with Beel watching in the background, munching on snacks

It’s quite relaxing for him, actually

He likes watching as you bring a piece together, going over previously flat areas with a second layer of shading to make certain elements pop—and even if he doesn’t completely understand what you’re doing, he’s entirely willing to learn, listening peacefully as you explain what the various tools do

By the end of the month, man has actually memorized all the names of your supplies, handing them to you every time you ask for it - be it something as simple as a request for an eraser or just the blending stump

Lowkey, your work has actually improved since you began working up in Beel’s room

Not only does he have the most comfortable setup, but the man pampers you like royalty, always making sure that there’s water or food for you in case you need something

(And if you do happen to require something that isn’t already in Beel’s room, man will 100% get it for you so that you don’t have to stop what you’re doing)

Honestly, it’s the perfect arrangement: he gives you the ideal working space and you give him hours upon hours of intrigue

And if you happen to begin sitting in his lap one day while you work, something which quickly turns into a pattern, who’s there to stop anything? ;)

Belphegor

Man naps

A lot

And you just happen to be his favorite pillow, so it’s hardly a surprise when all your free time is spent in the presence of a dozing Belphie, always passed out over your legs

So once, just once, you pull your sketchpad out from under your pillow and work on it, a cautious eye trained on the seventh-born’s every move in case he stirs

And when that first time goes smoothly, you pull your sketchpad out a second time

Then a third

Then a fourth - and suddenly, you’re caught in a pattern

It was really just a matter of time until Belphie woke up one day and you didn’t notice

And it’s already too late when the drowsy demon lifts his head, peering curiously onto your lap to see what you’re working on—much to your horror

“Y-you’re awake,” You mutter halfheartedly, a sick feeling settling in your stomach as you watch the demon’s expression shift as he studies your artwork

You hate it

A bubble of anxiety begins to rise, fear over whether he will like your work or call it bad, whether he’ll make fun of your work or tell the brothers, whether he’ll be kind about it or mean

But then, much to your surprise, he flops back onto your lap, utterly unphased

“Nice,” The demon comments casually, stretching as he rests his head along your thigh. “It’s pretty.”

You can only blink as he falls back asleep, utterly confused as to what just happened

He woke up, right? And he saw your art? And he complimented it, telling you that he thought it was nice and pretty?

A sound of disbelief escapes your mouth as you try to process the utter nonchalance with which the whole exchange had concluded with, your shock only interrupted by the light sound of Belphie, who’s already snoring

You groan

But now that Belphie has seen your work, it’s not like there’s much point in hiding it any longer, right?

You pull your sketchbook out, silently continuing to work on the design that the man napping on your lap had said to be “nice,” adding some finishing touches to it 

And when Belphie wakes up, he speaks nothing of the entire exchange

From that point and onward, you become a little more comfortable around him, relieved that you don’t need to talk about it with him

And he gets it

For all your free time, while he naps, you draw, and the two of you find a comfortable form of peace together, an odd tranquility lurking in the fact that there are no questions, no answers, just you and him, the sound of scribbling and snoring, your sketchpad and his pillow

And really, who needs anything else?

Solomon

He’s probably the first one to realize, on his own, that you’re an artist

The two of you have nearly all your classes together, thanks to Lord Diavolo, so it’s hardly surprising when the ever-astute sorcerer picks up on the fact that every time he casts you a second glance, you’re working on some mysterious sketch underneath your desk

Doesn’t really care at first

Until he sees your work

Man actually stops when he picks your sketchbook up off the ground, inspecting the page it had flipped open to after you dropped it

“Holy shit”

Doesn’t even ask for permission, he just begins browsing through the sketchbook, growing more and more impressed with each new page he sees

You only snatch the book back from his hands when you realize that the sketch he’s staring at so intently is one you drew of him, thanking him for picking it up with a huff and awkwardly trying to remove yourself from the situation as fast as humanly (heh, yes that is a pun) possible

Wizard boy stops you, ofc

“Come with me”

“But I have class soon—"

Again, doesn’t even wait for your agreement, man just drags you by the forearm to the library and flips open a book, throws down his own notebook, and demands that you use your “art skills or whatever” to help him

Sigh

Precious wizard boy isn’t very good with words when he’s all worked up

It takes you a good 5 minutes to understand that he wants you to compare the summoning circle outlined on the book with the one he sketched to identify where he went wrong, because apparently you have an “artist’s eye” and therefore you should be able to assist him - and he refuses to believe you when you try to convince him that no, this is not your strong suit and you will likely be unable to help him

He gets whinier than Asmo (probably where he gets it from) and will not stop nagging you even as you try to leave, so eventually you just give in and agree to try to help him - and it wounds up being surprisingly easy for you to realize that he missed the secondary outline of the inner circle, among another few minor mistakes

Huh, maybe you are naturally inclined toward this

From that moment and onward, Solomon decides that you are officially valuable (not only do you have magical potential, but you have an eye for summoning circles too? how UNFAIR) and begins spending all his time with you

Doesn’t really care about the fact that you’re an artist at first—is really more interested in how your skills can be applied

But then one day, after a particularly rough night of going through twelve whole summoning circles for twelve powerful demons, he takes a nap and wakes up to find you passed out on the floor, sleeping on top of your sketchbook where you fell asleep doodling him

Highkey touched

And slowly, he begins casually “falling asleep” around you more often, to see and flip through more of your artwork when he wakes up 

Sigh

Bby is fucking shady even when he does wholesome shit

Simeon

Okay let’s be real

There’s no peace with the seven demon brothers. Solomon is chaotic. Luke, as much as we love him, is just a lot to be around. And even with Barbatos next to him, Diavolo is a walking tornado that tends to wreak havoc whenever he wills it (and he usually wills it).

So honestly, being with Simeon is the only place of tranquility you can find in the entire Devildom

Specifically, his room

*Which is off-limits to all the aforementioned individuals

He extended the invitation for you to spend some “relaxation time” in his quarters whenever you pleased at the beginning of the year, his angelic heart already sensing the absolute whirlwind of disaster you were walking into when you joined RAD

And while you declined his offer immediately out of politeness, you found yourself sheepishly knocking on his door not one week into the program

And now it’s become an every-day sort of thing

So yeah

Simeon knows about your art

In fact, you can’t seem to draw unless you’re in his presence, because at this point, he naturally soothes you so much that your hand is only steady when you hear the sound of his calm breathing in the background

In fact, you work best when the two of you are spread out on his couch, your back resting comfortably on Simeon’s shoulder while he writes (yes, he manually writes all his books on pen and paper) and you put your legs up on the couch, sketching away in your notebook

It’s the very image of peace, something you can’t seem to find anywhere else in this realm

And Simeon, bless his heart, may be a master of calligraphy, but the precious angel cannot draw to save his life - a fact which you have taken it upon yourself to handle

See, the angel gets tired every now and then—understandable, given that he produces literal masterpieces at his hands

And so when he gets tired, what does he do? 

Make incomprehensible doodles in the upper left corners of his papers

So, of course, you’ve taken it upon yourself to bring those doodles to life (even if it requires a half-hour of inspection before you can make out what the sketch was supposed to be) and Simeon loves it

The expression of eagerness that surfaces every time you inform him that you’ve finished a piece is so rewarding, because the childlike glee with which he takes the paper from your hands to inspect it always sends a rush of warmth to your heart as he gushes in appreciation

But uh 

Simeon is a special kind of chaotic, something that manifests every time he doodles something on paper

You stare at the angel in disbelief as he informs you that his latest doodle (what appears to be a banana-looking creature in sunglasses?) was actually a monkey ironing clothes—unsure what to say in light of this information

But it’s okay :) There only needs to be one artist in this relationship, and it clearly isn’t him

Luke

It started with cake

He needed “inspiration” to make something for Barbatos, as a thank-you gift for the pastry lessons the elder gave him, but Luke claimed that everything he made, while it tasted fine, lacked in the aesthetic department

And while normally you would play it Simeon-style, leaving it to the younger angel to handle things on his own so that he can grow individually, you felt too bad watching him discard another batch of cupcakes into Beel’s mouth, rubbing his head in aggravation over how annoying it was that nothing was looking right

So you helped him out

It was nothing major, really

Just eight doodles—subtle yet elegant designs for a triple-tiered cake, childish and bouncy arrangements to store flan, little details in frosting to give cupcakes the added element of specialty that makes them infinitely better

But the second Luke saw your paper, he went wild

Boi was running to the kitchen so fast he barely even had the time to shout “thank you” 

Apparently, your little sketches sparked inspiration in him so strongly that the flames burned til midnight (much to Simeon’s disapproval), but when Luke was finally done with everything, he walked out of the kitchen with a tray of desserts that looked so perfect it was hard to imagine that he brought them to life from your sketches

Luke spent ages thanking you, shoving desserts down your throat even when you insisted that you were full, so unimaginably grateful that you helped him out of what he called “chef’s block”

Each “thank you” was accompanied either a brownie or a slice of mango mousse or whatever new pastry Luke was creating that day, and before long you were getting to enjoy luxury foods on the daily (much to Beel’s jealousy)

Boy only believed that the debt was paid when you told him that there was no debt to pay, that you sketched those quick little doodles for him out of kindness and not obligation

Believe it or not, Luke’s eyes actually welled with tears for a second at that, before he wrapped you up in a giant (is it really giant if the hugger is so little?) hug, wailing something about you being too “pure” and “perfect” for the Devildom, and that one day you would be very happy in the Celestial Realm

You pat his head, telling him that if it truly made him this happy, you would be glad to help him out again and sketch some food doodles whenever he wanted some new ideas

Cue another round of hugs, muffled crying, and sobs about how amazing you are

Barbatos

Barbatos knew, of course

Not because he used his powers or anything, he would hardly use them for something so trivial, but he was aware from the start that you were an artist because it was he who prepared for your arrival in the Devildom, ensuring that you had all the same amenities and comforts you were used to in the human realm

And, as such, that included art supplies

So the very moment he set his eyes on you, he was aware that you were an artist

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually be good at it

He sees your sketchbook when he’s casually strolling through the RAD library, finding you completely knocked out on one of the tables, the spiral binding of the sketchpad still digging indents into your cheek where you lie on top of it

At first, the butler rearranges your position as a courtesy

He lifts your head and rests it on your hand - which makes a much softer pillow -  coincidentally placing your books back inside your bag and taking a moment to organize the papers strewn across the desk

But then he just happens to glance inside

And the second he does, he’s mesmerized

There’s not much in the world that can surprise Barbatos - not after he’s looked after Diavolo, of all people, for so many millennia - but the butler still finds himself holding his breath as he flips through your sketchpad, each piece telling a story so evocative that it leaves him wanting more even when he arrives at a blank page, abruptly realizing that he’s just gone through your entire sketchbook without your permission

Of course, you just have to wake up at that precise moment - sleepy eyes glancing up at the butler and wondering if you’re hallucinating, but the book in his hands is far too real and the shocked expression on his face is impossibly jarring and you flinch, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you realize what must have happened

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman about it, kindly telling you to get more rest so that you don’t pass out in a public library surrounded by demons who want to eat your soul, but he ends the sharp warning with a rather kind remark about your artwork

“I liked the second-last piece best,” He murmurs, casting you a cryptic smile before bidding you farewell

And obviously, the moment he’s out of sight, your nose is buried in your sketchbook, fingers flipping furiously to find the second-last piece you drew which you cannot seem to remember at all, and—

Oh

A flush immediately erupts on your cheeks as you see the colored sketch, something inspired by nothing more than a whim

It’s simply two people on a walk—both of them vague imitations of what your mind had wistfully conjured up—one of them bearing the telltale mismatched hair and olive green eyes, the other sharing a quiet resemblance to yourself - a conscious decision, of course

But just as you’re about to flip off the page, another detail you’d forgotten about draws your attention—and your cheeks suddenly burn in embarrassment as you realize why Barbatos singled this piece out

The figures are smiling, gazing at each other from the corners of their eyes. And there, in the very center of the piece, it is obvious: 

They are holding hands

Diavolo

RIP to Diavolo’s royal painter

They have been replaced

By you

As much as you fought it, as much as you argued that you were not fitting of this position, as much as you pleaded with the demon lord to not force this title upon your shoulders, Diavolo’s decision to appoint you as the honorary Devildom painter was final—and nothing can change his mind once it’s made up

The title is really just that: a title. Diavolo knows that you’re a busy student, and while he honored your artistic talents with this position, he’s not about to actually force you through the expected proceedings of a true royal painter, not while you’re trying to survive being an exchange student in hell with an entirely unfamiliar curriculum in front of you

But on occasion, he’ll send you a text, asking if you’re free

And you’ll head on over to his palace, ready to paint him

And unlike every other demon, angel, and human in the Devildom, when Diavolo models for you, he actually models nude

Asmo is jealous

Sexual tension is high when you paint him, let’s just leave things at that

And honestly, it really doesn’t matter what you paint - Diavolo seems to be more interested in the fact that it’s a human who did the art in the first place

He once saw your RAD binder, noticing the little doodles you’d drawn on the corner of all your papers, and he immediately took them—declaring that they were art to be preserved for all eternity for historical documentation purposes

So yeah

There’s a hall in Diavolo’s palace filled with your RAD math homework, an eternal reminder of the assignments you copied off of Solomon

(You’re not sure what’s more embarrassing: the fact that you’ve drawn some rather inappropriate doodles on those pages or the fact that, despite having copied all the answers, you still managed to get nearly one-third of the problems wrong, and now your mistakes are to be showcased in the Devildom for centuries to come)

It gets to the point where you and Solomon start making bets over how basic you can get with your art for Diavolo to still consider it “amazing” and “utterly awe-inspiring,” as he likes to put it

In honor of that bet, there is currently a banana peel with a few marker doodles on it hanging in a preserved case in an iced room in the lowest levels of the palace, as none of the “art” can be wasted

But in truth, the demon lord’s fixation with human culture is endearing, especially when Diavolo tries so hard to be accepting of it

So eventually you stop giving Diavolo wacky art and actually start putting your full effort into your creations—your reward being the fact that the final piece you complete gets hung in Diavolo’s private bedroom, where he promises to gaze at it every night for the rest of eternity, vowing to remember his time with you every time he sees it

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Grunge-Metal Geralt 2

holy fucking shit yall really loved the first one so I wrote some more

this is totally self indulgent tho. like yall have no idea. if i could live in any AU it would be this one. i have so many feels.

Warnings: drinking mention, nothing over the top, unwanted pics taken but like they’re celebrities? i guess, we get a bit emotional about past relationships/crushes but nothing too heavy

__________________________

Jaskier had no idea how he got there, but he was knocking on a green room door with a temporary label reading ‘The Witchers’ before the stadium had completely emptied. 

Lambert yanked the door open, Aiden clinging to his back like a monkey, and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head before a huge grin spread over his face, “Hey there, Jaskier!”

Eskel grumbled, “Haha, Bert. No need to fuck with Geralt.” 

Jaskier shoved his hands in his corduroys and rocked up onto his toes, “He’s not fucking with anyone,” he laughed, desperately trying to keep the nerves out of his voice as he peeked around the door jam. 

Geralt was curled up in the corner of a couch, now wearing a massive grey-blue hoodie and gold wire-rimmed glasses, scribbling in a composition notebook propped up on his knees. His hair was pulled back in a disaster of a bun with pieces falling in his face but Jaskier absolutely loved it. It suited him. He hesitated a moment before scrawling one last line in his notebook, brow furrowed as he chewed on his bottom lip.

When he looked up he snapped his notebook shut, “Holy fuck,” he breathed, “Hi!”

His eyes were actually gold. Jaskier had just thought that was some thirst driven exaggeration. He expected light brown, but no. He was staring directly at eyes that practically sparkled.

Lambert waved Jaskier in and he hesitantly stepped through the door, “Hi! I uh, dig your boots.” 

“Th- Thank you,” Geralt bit back a grin, blushing bright pink as he stood up, “I didn’t think you’d see my message. Or respond.” 

“After that performance?” Jaskier, normally bard-worthy with his quick tongue and easy conversation, was feeling his own cheeks heat up as he scrambled for something to say, “I’m honestly not sure if I even locked my car when I came back in.” 

Eskel snickered from behind Jaskier, stretching and putting his feet up on a coffee table, “Told ya.”

Aiden sighed and rested his chin on top of Lambert’s head, “This is so cute.”

Jaskier laughed, not entirely uncomfortably but definitely awkward, and ran a hand through his hair, turning back to Geralt. 

Geralt pushed his glasses farther up his nose and snatched his wallet from the coffee table, “I offered drinks. You wanna…” Geralt trailed off and made an exasperated, and maybe a little annoyed face at the guys behind him but when Jaskier turned around they were pretending to mind their own business, “How does Pensive sound?” 

Jaskier shot him a grin, “Sounds perfect.”

Geralt snagged his keys from a bag and held the door open for Jaskier, “After you.” 

-

“Okay so,” Jaskier took a sip of his drink and set it in line with their two empty glasses and a napkin holder, “Aiden and Lambert fuck?” he asked, pushing an empty glass and the napkin holder together. Geralt snorted and nodded so he went on, “And Eskel and Lambert are brothers?” Another nod as he tapped the two empty glasses, “And you and Eskel were college roommates?” he asked, gesturing to his half-empty glass. 

Geralt grinned, “You know, you’re keeping up pretty well for a self-proclaimed lightweight.” 

Jaskier giggled, “I’m trying really fucking hard.” 

Geralt leaned his head back and laughed and Jaskier was absolutely done for. He rested his elbow on the table and his head in his hand as he stared dreamily at this adorable man. He was carefree and soft around the edges, nothing like Jaskier had expected from the lyrics he’d listened to all night. And either he was a good listener or Jaskier had had one too many vodka-crans. 

When Geralt finally got himself under control he took off his glasses to wipe at his eyes before placing them back on his nose with a grimace, “I shouldn’t have taken my contacts out.” 

“Old prescription?” 

Geralt blushed, “Don’t usually wear them in public,” He admitted, pushing the frames higher.

Jaskier must have had too much to drink because he reached out and tucked a curly strand of white hair behind Geralt’s ear, “I think they’re cute on you.” 

Geralt’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at Jaskier, jaw hanging down just a bit, his pupils blown wide. Jaskier bit his lip and smiled as he pulled his hand away and rested it on the table between them, hoping Geralt would get the hint. Gods he just wanted to hold his hand and giggle until the sun came up. 

“Thank you,” Geralt muttered, blinking a couple times and laying one of his hands over Jaskier’s. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Geralt licked his lips and nodded, shaking the hair loose that Jaskier had just tucked away. 

“Why that song?” Jaskier stared at their hands, not having the courage to look at Geralt in case the answer wasn’t what he wanted it to be. 

“Hmm…” he didn’t sound upset, but he was certainly choosing his words carefully, “I’ve done the whole.. How do I put it?” Jaskier looked up at him only to see him staring at their hands too, “...‘I could be enough for you if you’d let me’ dance more times than I can count… and knowing it would never happen but yearning anyway…” he chuckled and glanced up at Jaskier, a sad look of acceptance in his eyes, “And I love your voice.”

Of course, he’d heard those words before, it was his job to have a good voice, but fuck, they hit different coming from Geralt. He was so earnest and disarmingly handsome that Jaskier felt anything he said would make him giddy. His chest felt warm and it took a moment for his brain to catch up. He had planned on showering Geralt with praise and adoration, not the other way around. 

Jaskier squeezed his hand, “I love yours too,” he whispered.

There was that gorgeous blush again, making Jaskier’s heart skip a beat. 

“I can’t imagine anyone thinking you’re not magnificent,” Jaskier mumbled, watching Geralt blush even deeper and dip his head so the loose hairs covered his face a bit. Jaskier may have been a flirty drunk, but he was one hundred percent sure he’d be just as forward with Geralt sober. He wasn’t leaving the bar without making damn sure Geralt knew he was gorgeous and talented and everything Jaskier could imagine wanting in life. 

“Careful. You can’t just say things like that,” Geralt warned, flicking the hair out of his eyes with a guarded but amused smile. 

“And why not?”

Geralt squinted at him for a moment, “I might believe you.” 

“Geralt, darling,” Jaskier started, sitting up and turning to square his hips toward him, holding his large hand in both of his, “I don’t mince words. I mean everything I say. And tweet. I really do think you’re wonderful. And I really do want you to sing me to sleep. Sometime. Anytime. I’m not picky.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows and took a breath in to say something but was interrupted by a camera flash in the low light of the bar and someone swearing.

“Oi!” Jaskier turned toward the light, and the idiot fumbling with their phone. 

Geralt squeezed his hand before he could say anything more, “It’s alright. The hair kinda glows in the dark, I’m used to it. I was thinking we could get out of here?”

Jaskier did his best not to let the sly smile take over his face and give him away, “Would you like to come to my place?”

Geralt grinned, “Absolutely. Mine is a shit show right now.”

“Is it really that bad?” Jaskier joked as they stood.

“Eskel is a slob,” Geralt laughed.

“Mine it is!” Jaskier declared, slapping enough cash to cover their drinks and an exorbitant tip on the table.

They walked out of the bar with Geralt’s arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, both with giddy smiles and a little extra pep in their step. 

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Care and Keeping of Idiots

Prompts: Hi I love your fic's so much and I was wondering if you could do DRLAMP (platonic creative twins) hurt/comfort with the light sides just having a lot of unhealthy habits and the dark sides helping them <3 - anon

Prompt if you want one: Roman gets sick from overworking himself but tries to hide it. Virgil finds out and chases him around the mindscape trying to get him to rest eventually him and all the others get him to bed and fluff ensues. That or Roman is sick and everyone fights to take care of him cause I think that would be funny and cute. Hurt/comfort please your honour and lamp is good but mainly prinxiety, roceit and some creative twins would be awesome! A scene for the first idea that lives rent free in my head is Roman hanging onto the door of the imagination while Virgil and Janus hold his legs and then remus jumps from above to knock him out and then they take him upstairs bridal style. I literally adore your writing so much so if you choose to write this thank you so much 💜💜💜💜 Ps: sorry if this is too much detail lol just do what you feel comfortable with - sunflowerblondeuwu

hi! if you're taking prompts, would you be interested in doing some moceit hurt/comfort? - anon

I'd like to request something Logan-centric. Maybe with some protective sides looking after Logan? If you can, if not don't worry about it. - geminimoon14

I've been experimenting with microficlets and short form and thought these were great practice!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: nothing explicit

Pairings: DLAMPR, DLAMP, LAMP, it can be platonic or romantic i don't care anymore

Word Count: 2035

The Dark Sides have their work cut out for them.

“Patton.”

Patton starts in surprise, turning around to see Janus standing there with his arms crossed. He raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, goodness, you startled me!”

“Really, I had no idea.” Janus walks forward, holding out a hand.

“What’s that for, kiddo?”

Janus just holds his hand out further.

“I don’t know what you want,” Patton tries, edging a little further into the kitchen.

Janus sighs. “By all means, continue trying to lie to me.”

Patton stops. Janus takes another step closer, still holding out his hand.

“It’s fine, Janus, don’t worry!”

“Every time you lie,” Janus says, “I’m going to take a step closer.”

“But it’s fine!” And sure enough, he takes a step closer. “I can do it! Wait, that’s not a lie. Stop it!”

“Stop lying, Patton, and I won’t have to.”

Patton does not whine, but he does exhale a little louder than normal. Janus waits patiently, his hand outstretched. Patton sighs and puts the notebook in Janus’s hand. Janus hums and tucks it into his cloak and holds out his hand again.

“…now I really don’t know what you want,” Patton says wearily.

Janus just waggles his fingers.

“Janus, I—“

“Come here, Patton,” Janus murmurs, holding his hand out.

Patton takes his hand and tries not to squeak in surprise as he’s yanked forward into a cuddle. Janus chuckles as he flails slightly, wrapping one arm around his waist to keep him still and ruffling his hair with the other.

“Good.”

“What—what’re you doing?”

“Oh, just remedying this error that I’ve discovered.”

“You—what? Janus—“

“Be still,” Janus chides gently, giving his hair a tug, “you’re alright. Just let me hug you.”

Patton won’t turn down a hug from one of his kiddos, but he’s very confused, thank you very much, and he would like to be less confused.

“I thought we talked about that notebook,” comes Janus’s voice a moment later, “and why you should stop using it.”

“But it helps me remember when I have to do things,” he mumbles into the cloak.

The cloak shifts. “Not in a way that is helpful to you, sweetie.”

“It helps me remember!”

“It helps you feel guilty.”

“…no…”

Janus sighs. “I can’t actually take a step closer while I’m hugging you, but I did it in spirit.”

Patton grumbles. Janus cards his hand through his hair again and uses two more arms to guide Patton’s around his neck.

“I’m going to pick you up now.”

“Where are we—oh!—where are we going?”

“Virgil and Remus have a new version of UNO they want to try and they’re insisting they need four people.” Janus rolls his eyes. “I think they just want an excuse to team up, but we’ll see.”

Patton shifts in Janus’s arms as they make their way to the other living room. He looks up and Janus catches his gaze.

“What, sweetie?”

“…thanks.”

Janus smiles and taps Patton’s cheek. “I’ll drag you kicking and screaming into caring about yourself if I have to.”

—————————

“Virgil.”

“Nope.” Virgil yawns, sprawling a little further across Logan’s desk. “Sorry, L, no work for you.”

“Virgil, where did you even put everything?”

“Your computer’s where it always is when it isn’t on your desk, your notes are filed away with Roman’s help, and your notebook is with Janus.”

Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And why have you taken precautions to ensure I don’t have access to my work?”

Virgil indicates the schedule they drew up on the corkboard. “Because it’s your day off and you gave us permission to make you take that day.”

Logan sighs. Again. It’s his favorite way of expressing exasperation with Virgil. Virgil grins, hooking his feet around the arms of the chair and pulling it out of Logan’s reach. He pulls out his phone and starts mindlessly scrolling.

“Virgil.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I just have one notebook?”

“Depends.” He glances up at Logan. “You gonna work?”

Logan opens his mouth and Janus strides out of the shadows. Virgil muffles a snort and shakes his head.

“Okay, that answers that question.”

“Virgil.”

“Logan.”

Janus just flops down onto Logan’s bed and curls his arms around a pillow, hissing from the warmth.

“I just want my notebook,” Logan says, “can I have my notebook back?”

“No work, Logan, you made the rules.”

“I said no work, not no notebook!”

“Yeah, but for you, notebook equals work.”

Logan looks back at Janus. “Can I please have my notebook back?”

“It’s adorable how you think asking me will get you a different answer than asking Virgil.”

Logan is quiet for a moment. Virgil looks up at him over his phone and his brow furrows at the way Logan starts to fiddle with the end of his tie.

“…can I please have it back?”

“Why do you think asking over and over will get you a different result, L?”

“Because perhaps you’ll understand that I need it back,” Logan snaps, clutching the end of his tie.

“Whoa,” Virgil soothes, holding his hand up, “time out. Okay. You want it back?”

“For the forty-seventh time, yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s mine.”

Virgil frowns. Then he gets up and nods to Janus. Janus takes Logan’s notebook out and passes it to Virgil, who holds it out for Logan to take. Logan takes it and wraps his arms around it protectively, tucking it under his chin.

“What’s the matter, L,” Virgil says quietly, “why’re you so on edge today?”

Logan sniffs. Oh. Oh, fuck. Janus sits up as Virgil nudges Logan to sit on the bed. Logan sits, still curled around the notebook.

“Talk to us, L,” Virgil murmurs, “did we fuck up? We’re sorry if we did, but you gotta tell us.”

“N-no, it’s—it’s fine, I asked you to do this, I just—“ he shakes himself— “it’s fine.”

Janus hisses lightly.

“Come on, L.”

Logan slumps, his fingertips starting to turn red from pressing against the spirals. Virgil reaches out to gentle them away.

“I suppose I’m still getting used to the idea that I am important to you outside of my work,” comes the whispered confession.

“Oh, sweetie…”

“Can we hug you, L? I think you need it.”

Logan nods, but he doesn’t move the notebook. Virgil taps it.

“Let go, come on.”

Logan lets him pry it out of his hands and toss it onto the desk as Janus wraps an arm around him. Virgil comes back to haul Logan further onto the bed, tucking his head under his chin.

“You’re important to us because you’re Logan, not because you’re Logic.” Janus hums in agreement. “Now, we’re gonna sit here for a moment and then we’re gonna go see how much of a mess Remus has made in the living room.”

Logan huffs. “We did leave him alone, didn’t we?”

“Mm.” Janus tucks his head against Logan’s shoulder. “I’d certainly love to go see whatever mess there is instead of staying here.”

Virgil chuckles. “We can stay here for longer, Logan needs it.”

—————————

“Fuck, where is he?”

“He went into the Imagination!”

“Shit, how’d he get past Patton?”

“I don’t know, but we gotta hurry before he gets lost in there.”

“Hey—hey! There he is! Get back here!”

“Roman! Roman!”

“Shit, he’s getting away!”

“How the fuck is he so fast—“

“Aren’t you fight or flight? Move!”

“I got him—I got him!”

“Hey, hey! Virgil, let me go!”

“No, Roman, you know you’re not supposed to be here, come on—“

Well, if Roman is going to insist they drag him out of here, they will.

“Roman, let go of the door.”

“How are you still holding on, there’s two of us—“

“Shut up, J, and pull!”

“You’ll never take me alive!”

“Stop being so dramatic for one goddamn second—“

“Remus, now!”

Even Roman isn’t so determined that a Morningstar to the head won’t make him go unconscious. Remus ignores the slightly disapproving looks from Virgil and Janus and promptly scoops his brother into his arms and marches out of the Imagination, down to the living room where Logan and Patton are waiting, blankets and pillows set up. Logan raises an eyebrow when he sees Roman’s limp form in Remus’s arms.

“Was knocking him out really necessary? He’s already sick.”

“He’s fine,” Remus defends, “he’ll wake up in like…two seconds.”

“One, two—“

“Hey!”

“Well, what do you know, it was two seconds,” Logan mutters as Janus immediately wraps his arms around a squirming Roman.

“Let me go, I’m fine, I just—“ Roman freezes when he realizes where he is— “oh.”

“Yes, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “oh. Now hush and let us take care of you.”

“But—“

“We already had to fight to be the ones to come get you,” Virgil interrupts, plopping down with his head in Roman’s lap, “don’t make us do it again.”

“But—“

“Ro,” Remus whines, “just let us take care of you!”

Roman freezes. His mouth snaps shut and he starts to toy with an edge of one of the blankets. His shoulders hunch and Remus counts him heroically stopping three coughs.

“Ro,” he says, softer this time, “you know we want to take care of you, right?”

Roman pointedly does not look at any of them.

“…you said you had to fight over who came to—“ he stifles a sneeze— “to come get me.”

“We fought over who got to come get you.” Remus nudges his shoulder. “I won because I’m your brother and I get dibs.”

“I won because I’m fight or flight.”

“Even though you were so slow.”

“Shut up, Remus.”

“I didn’t win,” Janus says, examining his gloves, “ I just went anyway.”

Roman doesn’t laugh. Instead, he tugs the blanket again. Remus shuffles closer and bonks their heads together.

“You’re not a burden, Roro, we want to take care of you.”

“…why?”

Patton stifles a hurt noise as he takes Roman’s hand in his. Logan scoots loser and curls his hands around Roman’s collar, trying to loosen it a little.

“Fuck, Princey, of course we wanna take care of you.” Virgil ruffles his hair. “You’re sick. Now lie down.”

“B-but—“

“Oh, shh, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, wiping a stray tear, “now, now, you know better than to cry when your head is already sore. I know it’s not your fault sweetie, just shh.”

Remus wraps Roman’s arms around him and curls into his chest. Roman sniffles.

“Now, that’s not fair,” Logan says quietly, “you three already got to go and get him, you don’t get to hog taking care of him as well.”

“Yeah, let us have a turn!”

Roman giggles as Logan tries to tug him away from Remus, which—good luck.

But Roman is happy so Remus will share.

For now.

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[julies-butterflies]

“One of us is starting to fall asleep.”-jukebox?

cuddle dialogue prompts  ( no longer accepting )                         ( read on ao3 )

By now, Julie knows that  Luke  and  sleep  don’t exactly get along.

Like... peanut butter and coleslaw. Studying and roller coasters. Alex and high school athletics. Luke and sleep are polar opposites, and flat-out don’t have time for each other. Whatever fundamental sequence of Luke’s DNA, whatever weird criss-cross firing of neurons in his head looks at a good night’s sleep, and decides, “nope, not for me...”

Well, Julie doesn’t  get it, but that’s how Luke’s made. Apparently, it’s how he’s always been, even when he was alive. Everyone else just has to deal with it.

“You’re keeping me up,” she announces, drawing her fuzzy blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Luke’s head shoots up, surprised — and sure, he’s got a right to be, considering it’s almost two in the morning. No sane person would be up this late. Not by choice, anyways... and Julie isn’t  choosing  to be awake herself. Something inside of her — one of those lightbulbs in her chest that blaze bright whenever the boys are near, that can feel them like a low, humming frequency even when they’re out of sight — is still awake, and buzzing. Late nights are like this. Whenever Luke can’t put himself to sleep — whether his brain is too loud, or his body too charged with energy — Julie feels it. She doesn’t want to, and definitely doesn’t enjoy it... but this is what her life has become. Being kept awake half the night by cute, insomniac ghosts.

He lowers his pencil slowly, and pulls his notebook against his chest. Luke sucks his cheeks, looking sheepish. 

“Sorry. I, uhh, I was just —“ He gestures vaguely around the darkened studio. A few faint snores echo from the loft, where Alex has set up a private space for himself. Reggie is face down on the sofa in a pile of blankets, hugging them to his chest like a kangaroo protecting its baby. (Julie’s going to have to get him a stuffed animal to snuggle one of these days; half the reason Luke doesn’t sleep, she suspects, is because Reggie’s such a blanket hog.)

The studio is dark except for a single light, glowing in the corner of the room. Luke is curled up there, with his notebook against his knees… but he wasn’t writing when Julie slipped in. He was glaring down at the page like it personally offended him. Now, he sets the notebook aside without a second glance, turning his full attention on her.

“Just felt like there was a song in my head, and I had to get it out. But it’s, uhh…” He gives his shaggy head a shake. “Not coming.”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re exhausted.” Julie crosses her arms. “It’s way past bedtime, Luke.”

“I’m a ghost, though.” He spreads his arms wide and leans back in his seat, like that’s something to be proud of. “Ghosts don’t  have  bedtimes.”

Without blinking, Julie crosses over to the couch and gives it a firm kick.

“Reggie? When’s your bedtime?”

Reggie snorts, popping his head up. “Ten-thirty,” he mutters… before faceplanting in the blankets again.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Reggie can have a bedtime if he wants to. I’m a free agent.”

“You’re an insomniac, and should probably talk to someone.”

“You know any good ghost doctors?”

Julie’s eye twitches. “We’ll  find  one.”

Tipping his head back towards the ceiling, Luke clicks his tongue. “I dunno, Jules, it’s been a while since my last checkup… I don’t got time for all the bells and whistles, you know? They’re gonna take that little hammer to my knee, and it’s gonna go right through me… they're gonna look for my heartbeat and be real confused... probably try to give me some spooky X-rays…” He gasps, and bolts upright. “Julie, they’re gonna find out I don’t have a skeleton!”

Okay, thinks Julie, the late hour is definitely getting to his head.

“Is that your excuse?”

The unexpected voice from the darkness sends them both jumping out of their skin. Luke flails, nearly falling out of his chair; blinking up at the loft, Julie’s eyes widen as a  phenomenal  mess of bedhead peeks out over the railing.

“We all know you’re afraid of needles. You haven’t had a booster shot in thirty years, Luke.” Alex glares down at them both. “Now, either shut up or go away, some of us are trying to sleep!”

Reggie holds up a hand, and mumbles something like “agreed,” into his pillow.

Clapping her palm over her mouth, Julie exchanges a sheepish glance with Luke. It takes every ounce of her self-control not to burst out laughing — Alex might actually start throwing things at them — but from the way Luke’s shoulders shake, she doesn’t trust him to hold out.

“Okay, sorry, we’re leaving,” she says in an hushed rush… and, before Luke can say another word, she snags him by the arm and pulls him with her.

They slip out the doors of the studio, and break into the humid night air. May in Los Angeles is just beginning to get hot -hot; warm enough to justify tank tops instead of sweatshirts, flip-flops instead of monster slippers. Julie’s pajamas aren’t anything interesting — Luke’s seen her in worse — but under the cool moonlight, his eyes still drink her in as if seeing her for the first time.

“You sleep with all those necklaces on?” he asks.

Okay, maybe he is seeing her for the first time, because Julie’s slept with her jewelry on since, like… sixth grade.

“You’re just noticing?”

“They’re pretty in the moonlight,” he replies, like it’s a foregone conclusion; then his brows furrow. “What if they choke you?”

“That’s not how it works, Luke.”

“Sure it is! All they need to do is get a little tangled up —“ He mimes, presumably, Julie doing acrobatics in her sleep. “And  wham,  you end up all strangled to death! I know we’ve got a gimmick, Julie, but we don’t gotta make it a full-phantom band so soon.”

“You say that like you’ve got plans for my death.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, the picture of innocence. “Not in the near future, but, y’know, we can't have you out-aging us…”

“Oh,” she says, beginning the long trek up the pathway to the house. “So I’ve got… two years before you guys decide to kill me. That’s reassuring.”

Luke follows after her, their footsteps echoing together. “Eh, we could stretch it to five. Six, tops. You’re tiny, you’ve still got a few good years left in you. Not like you’re gonna go all grandma on us  too  soon.”

Julie gasps, and swats at him. Luke accepts the hit to the chest with dignity, biting back a grin. He looks unfairly handsome in the moonlight… and Julie refuses to think about that, because it opens up a wole Pandora’s Box of issues, ranging from the obvious  (he’s a ghost eternally trapped at seventeen and, unless he somehow comes back to life through the power of music, I  am  going to get older than him someday)  to the serious  (he’s keeping me up at two in the morning).

Luke isn’t handsome. He’s a sleepless menace, and Julie shouldn’t entertain him a second longer.

They reach her door. Somehow, they come to a stop at exactly the same time, turning towards each other. Julie tugs her blanket tighter around her bare shoulders. Luke reaches out, and pulls the door open for her.

“I guess —“ he says.

“Yeah,” Julie agrees quickly. “Sounds good.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“Goodnight, then?”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

They smile at each other for a second, close-lipped and quiet… before something in Julie breaks, and she lays a hand on his arm. Somehow, he’s always so warm under her touch, so solid. He feels like a promise always kept… a steadiness, a certainty. A comfort.

“Come on,” she says softly, taking them both by surprise. “My bed has room for two.”

---------

He’s still so very warm, in bed next to her, with their legs tangled and bodies brushing whenever they move. It’s too humid for covers, so Julie’s got her favorite sheet, instead. As soon as Luke sees it, he billows it up into the air, and lets it fall down on top of them both like a parachute. Julie claps a hand over her mouth to hide her giggles. Even in the darkness of her bedroom — lit by the dimly glowing fairylights she only put on to keep Luke from tripping over her carpet — his grin is blinding. As the sheet flutters down over them both, she stretches her arms up to welcome it; he laughs so loudly, it’s a good thing her dad and brother can’t hear.

“This,” she huffs, once they’re both hiding under the covers, “this isn’t what we should be doing. It’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Totally right.” Luke’s quiet for a moment — before shaking the covers again, causing a wave of air to roll over them. He makes a ridiculous whoosh! noise, and Julie snorts.

“Stop!” She swats at his shoulder again; the sound is harsher than the impact. Luke yelps and curls in on himself, feigning a mortal injury. Over his groans and moans and  “Julie, how could you”s,  Julie can’t restrain another fit of giggles.

Oh god, she’s gone for this boy. She really is.

It’s two in the morning, and she’s in hysterics in her bedroom over a boy no one else in the world can see… and he’s smiling at her like she’s the brightest star blazing in the sky, and his legs are brushing hers, and she can feel the pulse of his heartbeat, the warmth of his breath… which shouldn’t be possible, because he’s  dead.

Luke reaches up. Gently, he brushes a stray curl from Julie’s temple. His hand lingers, and Julie feels dizzy.

“This feels like heaven,” he says softly.

Julie’s breath catches.

“I… thought you said you’d never get there.”

“Yeah, well…” When he chuckles, his breath ruffles her hair. “I’m not much of a believer in the ‘all rockstars go to heaven’ kinda thing… I don’t even know if I buy into that stuff, period.” He shrugs, and glances down, at the bare inches of space in between them. “But this… is what it’d feel like, I think. Right here, with you. This kind of forever.”

“With...” She swallows past a throat that is suddenly too dry, forcing words together in a head that reverberates with  heaven  and  you. Forever. God, can they make this last forever?

Instead of speaking, her hand finds Luke’s in the darkness. Their palms press; their fingers intertwine. He is restless beneath her touch, all calluses and carelessness and nervous energy… but Julie holds him until she feels him relax, then slowly raises their hands up between them.

“I’d like that,” she whispers. “To stay here forever.”

His eyes shine bright. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She swallows. “As long as it’s with you.”

These are exactly the sort of confessions that could not be made any time other than late in the night, or early in the morning — that funny liminal space of existence, the hours where nothing is really real, and everything feels like it matters too much. Julie is floating, and Luke is right here with her. He’s smiling inches away from her face… and if she wanted to lean over, to close the distance between them, it would be as easy as breathing.

She doesn’t, though, because this moment feels sacred. She won’t claim it selfishly for herself — won’t turn it into something it’s not. This moment is shared, between her and Luke... secrets whispered in the dark for their ears alone. It should stay that way.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes softly, like it’s all he knows for sure.

“You’re amazing,” she replies, in the same voice.

“You’re a star.”

“You’re inspiring.”

“You make me feel alive again.”

“So do you.”

They exhale in the silence, the words floating through the air around them. Julie imagines she can see them glowing in the darkness. If she wanted, she could pluck them out of thin air, tuck them away in her dream box and save them forever. This feels like the sort of moment that belongs there — halfway between dream and waking, almost too good to be true.

For a while, they don’t talk at all. Luke plays with her hair, and Julie twines their fingers. Their breaths match each other’s in the silence. It feels like floating down a lazy river, and slowly, Julie can feel herself being carried away.

She’s only aware of her eyes getting heavier when Luke’s fingers graze her brow, and she can’t force her lids open to look at him.

“Looks like one of us is starting to fall asleep,” Luke teases, his voice soft.

Julie humms, and feels herself smile. “You.”

“Not me.” His voice is smiling, too. “You.”

“You need t’ sleep.” She exhales, and sees it ruffle his hair like leaves on a tree. His nose scrunches up. He doesn’t look drowsy — not like he’s drowning in it, like she is — but he’s not wide awake, either. His head is quiet, his soul is calm; the hive of bees buzzing in Julie’s chest has given up the ghost for tonight. (Little Luke-shaped bees, with beanies and guitars, who keep flying into everything because they’ve got too much energy…)

She bursts into giggles again at the thought. They spill from her lips like honey; she’s too tired to silence them, nevermind hide her grin. Instead, she slumps against Luke, muffling herself against his shoulder. He smells like pine needles and sunshine. His arms wrap around her back to steady her, and she can feel him smiling against her, and Julie thinks…

Julie thinks…

Forever.

“What’s so funny?” he murmurs into the crown of her head.

“Bees,” she replies, and giggles again.

“Oh yeah?” He hums, like this makes perfect sense. “I mean, yeah, they’re pretty hilarious.”

“Mmm.” She presses her face against his shoulder, and decides to stay there. “Mmm.”

For a long moment, he’s completely still — like the world’s most realistic stuffed animal, the coziest pillow ever made — before his hand tentatively begins to massage between her shoulder blades, running up and down her spine.

“You good, Julie?” he murmurs softly, and Julie humms again.

“Stay with me,” she manages to say.  Forever. “Sleep here… with me.”

Luke’s caress feels like a lullaby. The lips that graze her temple are a promise.

“Don’t worry, Julie,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Somehow,  forever feels good enough for tonight.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

leaves

this started as a hc but turned into a long thing about geralt being a huge softie.  enjoy.

___

jaskier collects leaves that he thinks are pretty during the fall and presses them in his song writing notebook so he can look at them during the winter when all the leaves are gone. and, he'd never admit this to anyone, but he knows exactly where each leaf came from, and what he and geralt were doing when he found them, so they help him stay close to geralt in the cold months when he's away at kaer morhen.

geralt doesnt understand the fascination cause “they're just leaves jaskier” and gets kinda grumpy when jaskier walks extra slow during the fall to admire and inspect the leaves. but he secretly enjoys the way that jaskiers face lights up in front of their camp fire at night as he shows geralt each leaf he collected that day and tucks them safely into the pages of his notebook. 

jaskier used to show them to roach to inspect but after she ate a particularly beautiful one on accident he does not allow her anywhere near his precious leaves.

one year jaskier and geralt part ways a little earlier than normal, geralt deciding to begin the trek to kaer morhen sooner than he normally would due to a lack of contracts so jaskier goes to oxenfurt earlier as well. the leaves are just beginning to change color as they part ways. 

a few nights into the journey geralt is making camp for himself and roach when he sees a bright red leaf sitting on the forest floor, exactly the kind of leaf that jaskier would pick up and admire and wax poetry about before tucking it into his notebook. but jaskier isn't there, and geralt feels a little pang. he glares at the leaf the entire time he's setting up camp. 

the camp fire has burned down to the embers by the time geralt is ready to lay out his bed roll, but he can still see the leaf at the corner of his vision. he sighs and gets up, knowing that it will continue to bother him unless he does something about it. he picks up the leaf, brushes off the dirt far more lightly than he would ever care to admit, and goes to tuck it in to his saddle bag in the roll of parchment he keeps on the off chance he has to write a letter. 

roach snorts at him. “shut up,” he mutters back. “its just a leaf.” roach nuzzles his arm. “no, i don't miss him. im just...bringing him a souvenir. we had to part early this year.” another snort. “yes, i know you know. but he didn't get to see the leaves this year. i don't want him to be disappointed.” roach headbuts him as if to say, you dumb witcher. geralt ignores this, but gives her some nice pats before retiring to his bedroll. 

in the next town geralt buys a random book. he doesnt know what it is, he bought the cheapest one he could find. but he's not going to read it, he just needs something to keep jaskiers leaf in so it doesnt crumble to bits before the spring. he swears roach laughs at him for that. 

throughout his trip up to kaer morhen, geralt finds himself progressively walking slower, taking time to admire the leaves as the bard had once done. 

he picks up the second leaf a week later after a battle with some drowners. he’s heading back into the town, having come across his first contract in weeks, holding the head and covered in river muck and guts when he sees a perfectly yellow leaf on the ground in front of him. he picks it up gingerly, trying his very best not to get guts on it (and he nearly succeeds). if the alderman thinks its weird, a witcher coming back with a drowner head in one hand and a yellow maple leaf in the other, he doesnt say anything. roach does tho, whinnying the second she sees it in geralts hand. he ignores her, and presses the maple leaf into the book a few pages after the brilliant red one. 

after that he adds to the collection more frequently. an reddish oak leaf he finds on the ground outside of a tavern, a brilliant orange leaf he finds at his campsite, a yellowish orange leaf the size of his face that he finds along the road and so on. roach makes fun of him every time he reaches for the book, but geralt ignores her. they're merely souvenirs for jaskier, nothing more. 

collecting leaves slows him down considerably, but he cant bring himself to care. he's even disappointed when the last of the leaves disappear and the first snow sets in. 

but that doesnt stop him from collecting things to add to his book. he gathers different small pine branches, holly leaves and other things that he knows jasper has never seen before because they grow too far north. he becomes so caught up in his hunt for interesting plants that the snow is already falling thickly by the time he reaches kaer morhe, despite him leaving for the keep so early. eskel and lambert chide him for being late, but he ignores them, happy that he managed to fill most of the book with leaves for jaskier.

that whole winter the book remains in the bottom of geralts pack, wrapped carefully in his spare shirt. he thinks about it often, but doesnt dare bring it out for fear that one of his brothers will catch him and make fun of him for being a sap. he's not a sap, he just found some leaves for his friend. 

winter drags on far too long in geralts opinion and leaves as soon as the passes are clear, antsy to get back to his friend and give him the book. but on his way down he discovers yet another beautiful thing that jaskier would love: wildflowers. roach is slightly more appreciative of this because wildflowers are things that she is allowed to eat. geralt often feeds her them to see if she approves. if she spits it out or refuses to eat it, then it doesnt make it into the book.

in the space he has left in the book he fills it with wildflowers, sometimes going out of his way to collect them. there are buttercups, dandelions, little blue ones the color of jaskiers eyes, poppies, apple blossoms, daffodils, and even a few rose petals that he buys from a stall in a market. the book is brimming with nature now. he has to be careful not to lose any of his treasures. 

finally, he arrives at his and jaskiers meeting spot. he stables roach who gives him a headbut of encouragement and he grabs the book carefully wrapped in his shirt before he makes his way to the tavern, suddenly very nervous. 

jaskiers voice is already wafting out of the tavern as he draws closer, having beat geralt to the meeting spot for once, and geralt hesitantly steps inside, knowing jaskiers eyes will be on him the second he goes in. he’s overcome with thoughts, what if jaskier hates it? what if he thinks it's dumb? what if he laughs at him? 

he enters anyway, because he's a witcher for fucks sake and he can handle his friends scrutiny. immediately he sees jaskier, sitting in the corner, working a crowd. as always, jaskiers eyes snap to him the second he steps foot in the tavern and he winks. geralt gives him the smallest nod and heads to his table in the corner after ordering an ale. he tucks the book out of sight on the bench next to him. 

minutes later jaskier barrels over, eyes bright with the life of the crowd he had been entertaining. 

“geralt!” he exclaims. “finally. i thought you stood me up, you big oaf. i never make it here before you do, i thought you may have been eaten! although im not sure by what exactly, i don't know what species has a taste for witches, dragons maybe? well never mind, youre here now and you better have a good excuse for being so late, even im starting to get bored of this town and you know how i love towns...”

geralt smiles into his ale, he missed this, but he'd never admit it. his eyes flick over to the book sitting on the seat beside him, unsure whether or not he should give it to him. 

jaskier, being the observant fucker he is, notices. “geralt what do you have on the seat there? is it a monster head? you know what happened last time you tried to hide a monster head in a tavern, i thought the town would chase us out with pitchforks they were so angry! surely you wouldn't-”

“here.” geralt mutters, cutting him off, unwilling to listen to that horrible story. 

jaskier stares at the lump of black fabric on the table. “geralt, why are you giving me your shirt? its not really my style, i’m not one for black really, makes my skin look too pale.”

“open it.” he says into his ale. 

jaskier does, and stares at the book dumbfounded. “a history book? geralt you know that i am a master of the seven liberal arts, im a professor at oxenfurt! i have all these boring books in the library, i didn't need you to get me one, although it is very thoughtful of you to- oh”

geralt, tired of hearing jaskiers babbling, flips open the book, revealing the bits of nature he had spent their time apart collecting. jasper is silent, which geralt takes as a bad sign. maybe roach was right, maybe he didn't like it, maybe he'd wasted his time for nothing. 

“cause you....you didn't get to see...the leaves this year,” he mutters, looking into the tavern, unable to see the inevitable disappointment on jaskiers face. 

“oh, geralt,” jaskier whispers. “you collected all of these for me?”

geralt doesnt say anything, but his silence is enough. 

“this is why you were late. you were collecting these, for me.”

“its okay if you don't..like them” geralt bites out. 

“oh no no no no, geralt, they're wonderful.” 

geralt looks at jaskier and sees him touching the pine branch he took form the trees outside kaer morhen, tears brimming in his eyes. “you don't hate it?”

“no, love.” jaskier smiles softly. “i adore it. and i adore you. and id love it if you tell me about all of them, please.”

for the first time in years geralt feels something like a smile tugging at his lips and he picks up the pine branch from jaskiers hand, telling him how it came from the tree outside his window, the one that he looked at everyday as a kid growing up. the same tree that lambert once dared him to climb and he nearly did before being spotted by vesemir and scolded at. jasper laughs and sniffs the pine carefully before placing the branch back in the book. 

they pour over the book for hours at their table in the tavern. geralt cant remember the last time he's talked this much, much less about himself of all things, but jaskier is more than happy to listen. 

__

if you want to be tagged in future works of mine shoot me an ask !!

[mxvladdy]

i have an angst request, i guess??

could you imagine the reaction when MC and a brother are cuddling, being real sweet and tender, rubbing sensitive bits of skin ect.

MC stares off for a bit and the brother thinks they’re being nostalgic but when they ask what they’re thinking about 😘 MC just says “oh? i’m just remembering that i’m a potential food source for you guys 🙃“

~My first request! Yay!~

I hope you like it. I just picked just 3 brothers that I thought would be fun. But if you want more lemme know!

Lucifer

Quality time with him is rare. He's a busy demon after all.

But after an unsightly incident a few years back he has been trying to take some time out of the day for himself. It is also the perfect excuse to have some quality time alone with you.

He likes to have you sitting on top of him while he lounges. Your weight and heartbeat were soothing. A living noisemaker.

It has become a routine now. You come and rest with him and enjoy each other's company.

This time you were a little distant. Your eyes constantly track the motions and actions of his mouth. You seem fixated on every little thing he does. From a sip of his drink to the way he scowls while reading the evening news. You’re mesmerized by something.

He takes it as you reliving the taste and feel of his lips on yours. He'd be happy to give you a reenactment. But, when he leans in for a kiss, he senses...fear?

No. Surely you had gotten over that little mortal hurdle. For all things unholy, he hasn't even threatened you in over a year.

He'll pry, demanding a reason for your sudden apprehension. If anything to mask his own fear with righteous indignation.

When you tell him it takes a lot of effort not to laugh. It wasn't a ridiculous notion. He had indulged once or twice in his younger years-not that he would tell you. The thought had crossed his mind not that he would tell you. But really you would have been dog food before he would put any effort into it.

He'll brush your concern off. He has no interest in your flesh in such a rudimentary form. Now that pretty little soul of yours was another matter...

“You seem- distracted.” Lucifer’s purrs against your temple kissing it tenderly. His deep rumble resonates down your spine. “What are you thinking about γλυκιά μου?”  He drags a razor-sharp canine down your neck teasingly. “Something good perhaps?”  

“No, sorry.” You burrow closer to his chest. “Just had a… thought.” Lucifer’s thumb stills, halting the teasing pattern he had been tracing into your thigh. He scowls brushing his nose across the crown of your head. If you were thinking of anything other than him, then he was doing this wrong.

That thought was… offending. He had carved out a spot for you in his already ridiculous schedule, and yet you seemed miles away. Normally these precious moments were spent with you snuggling close loving his undivided attention, and him loving yours in kind.

Tonight your demeanor was so demure. You clung to him as usual, soft lips trailing down his jaw to the little sliver of exposed skin from where he had loosened his tie hours ago. But, it just felt like you were just going through the motions. “Speak.” A request and order in one.

"If given the chance, would you eat me?"

"What?" Lucifer cups the back of your head and pulls you away to make eye contact. "What?" He balks, eyes wide. His expression was completely undignified. That certainly wasn't what he was expecting.

You explain to him about a conversation you had overheard in your early days of the exchange program. For some reason, it just hit you then at the feel of his mouth on you.

"I- hmmm. Personally, I would have fed you to Cerberus. I don't particularly enjoy the taste of human flesh." He settles back into his office chair unfazed. He thought he had something to worry about. "Besides, I have come to find I like you warm and breathing." He pinches your side teasingly ready to get the evening back on track.

"Wait! You thought about it!?" His blasé tone takes you aback.

Lucifer knocks his forehead into yours with a snicker. "Not too hard. Besides you'd probably give my pups indigestion with all the trouble you’ve turned out to be."

Beelzebub

He likes to spend time with you at his favorite cafe. The one with the little tea cakes and great sandwiches.

Normally you will spend a weeknight there studying and munching together. One hand scribbling away in your notebook and the other engulfed in his large hand. By the end of the night though, you always find your legs interwoven with his and his ginger head resting on top of yours.

He is full and happy. So happy in fact, he steals a kiss, and then another.

It’s a good thing he picked a booth in the back so the rest of the cafe can ignore the couple nestled closer and closer in the back. He sneaks a few more peaks in here and there, whispering softly. It was going great until- He hadn’t expected to feel you lock up. Was it something he said?

You’re embarrassed when he pulls away and tries to brush it off. You just got swept up in some thoughts, no biggie.

He won’t pry, he gets it, it happens to him too. But, when you untangle yourself from him he has to know what’s up.

When you tell him he is distraught. Because he 100% has and probably still will eat a person. He might have munched on a witch that had pissed him off just the other day…

What he hates most is he can’t really lie and deny that he hasn’t thought about it.  

“You taste amazing.” His words ghost over your lips as he savors the sweet mix of your coffee and natural flavor. You always taste like spiced oranges and honey when your lips brush. It’s intoxicating. Suddenly the flavor of you changes, a sour note hits his tongue. You go still and look out across the small cafe.“Are you ok?”

You pull away blinking rapidly. “Yeah-sorry.” You chuckle humorlessly. “Just...had a thought.” You try to move back into his arms but he stops you.    

"What's the matter?" He tilts your chin up with a callous finger. You turn your head away and answer. "What?" He could hear you just fine. Superhuman hearing and all, but he just couldn’t comprehend what he heard.

"Do you consider me as a food?" You repeat yourself. "I know demons eat people, and like you've mentioned it before. I guess, I don't know. Shouldn't I be scared?" You've never seen a demon wilt before. Beel recoils and tucks in on himself. His hand flops down to sit on his thigh.

Of Course, he did think about it. Hell’s he had considered it. Aside from being a demon, he was the avatar of gluttony. How many nights had he laid in bed, stomach growling, and your scent filling his nose when you first arrived. Mammon had a work out the first few weeks of school dragging him away from your immediate vicinity. It was fortunate for the both of you that you had bonded so quickly or else he could have ruined everything.

His silence was enough for you to know. "Crazy how things turn out right?" You try to lighten the mood. You stroke his hair gently trying to comfort him. "Sorry, I kinda ruined date night huh?"

"No, no this is good." He chuckles rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Or I mean. We should talk about this. Before Diavolo started working on the exchange program, human souls and flesh were pretty common delicacies." Beel collects his thoughts with a sigh. “The verdict didn’t go over well at first. I wasn’t too happy either if I’m being honest. But, I’m happy he did it in the long run.” He meets your gaze with a warm smile. “You’re the kinda treat I want to enjoy for eternity.”

Asmodeus

A deviant. An absolute terror when it comes to PDA. He doesn’t care if it’s class time. If he wants to be in your lap then that's where he'll be.

He'll nuzzle the crook of your neck whenever he finds his way on to your thighs. He always has a compliment ready for you. New perfume or cologne? Is that shirt the one he bought you? He'll dote on you for hours until you are a blushing mess.

He schedules out movie nights with you. Just the two of you, some good drinks, plenty of pillows, and no bothersome brothers.

The movie he picked tonight was an oldie from the Devildom. He was feeling a little sentimental and thought you would enjoy seeing some culture. You agree, but forget one little thing.

Old Devildom culture was...pretty graphic.

Asmo doesn’t notice how your mind drifted off during the opening act. He is busy creating a new trail of hickies along your shoulder and upper arm around his pact.

He does notice when he hits the sensitive spot of your neck that normally has you squirming but-nothing. Huh? Was he losing his touch? He is usually so aware of his partner's mood. He asks what’s wrong.

Your question comes out of left field. He panics, figuring the movie wasn’t the best for this conversation. He turns it off and gives you his full attention.

Has he eaten a human or two before. Yes, back when he was young and would get swept up in the heat of the moment. Crimson was a lovely color on him.

You try to console him. Really you get it, it was an errant thought. You know he won’t eat you.

Can he still call you a snack tho?

You watch the movie in dead silence. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you figure you should probably be disturbed by what you see on screen. Were you that desensitized? Probably. Should that worry you? Maybe? You try to weigh it out in your hand. The black and white feature flashing across your eyes. You have seen worse in crappy human B rated horror movies. But, those were special effects and pints of red-colored slime and food coloring. You had a nagging suspicion that the scene in front of you was real. You glance down at the slim demon trying to fuse his body into yours. His body flickering in and out of focus in the flickering lights of the movie. You try to focus on him, his warm body nestling closer to you under the blankets. It worked for a moment before another loud roar from the screen dragged your eyes back up.

The contrast between the violence on the projector and the soft innocents of Asmodeus’s lips on the corners of yours was wild. He wasn’t even paying attention to the film. Typical. This was his normal ploy to have you all to himself. It worked though, and you loved it. Oh- You watch with wrapped attention as the human on screen was consumed both body and soul by a horde of demons.

“Is the film more magnetic than me?” Asmodeus pulls away licking his lips. His rose-colored gloss was smeared across his cheek. You shudder blinking past the sudden thought of what that soft red color also looked like.  

"Nah," You huff wrapping your arms around him to press your chest to his. He purrs practically preening from your attention. "Just thinking."

"Oh~" You can feel his playful smile stretching along your hairline. "Care to share." He nips your earlobe.

"I just, humans really are just kinda food to you guys huh?”

You’ve never seen Asmodeus move so fast before in your life. One moment he is doing his best impression of an octopus and the next he is standing several feet away from you, hands raised in a mix of shock and defense. “Where would you-” He trails off hearing the sound of violence and death behind him. “Oh Hells.” He clicks off the projector in a panic. “I am so sorry honey! I did not think that through.”

You laugh awkwardly. “Would this be an inappropriate time to say I would go straight to your thighs?”

Asmodeus snorts in the dark. “Hips more like. You are nothing but sugar and fluff.” He flips the lights back on and he comes back to kneel next to you. He cups your face. “You know I would never do that right? I can’t say I haven’t done it before but I’ve never thought that about you.”

You hum kissing his warm palm. “Should I be offended or thankful?”

He hits you playfully. “That’s not funny!” You laugh taking his light swats, grateful that the mood in the room was already lightning.  

“It is and you know it.” You scoop him back into your lap and snatch the remote up from where he had tossed it. “Come on let’s finish movie night. I’m picking the show this time.”

[jonkentt]

dear captain sam,

Sept 10 ‘21 ~Secret Admirer~ @samwilsonfest

Sam’s sitting at the kitchen island, reading the cartoons from last week’s newspaper. He can never have the current ones cause Cass has to read them first. He’s cutting out a Garfield panel to hide in one of Bucky’s books later when the man himself walks in a drops a piece of folded construction paper on the table.

“What’s this?”

Bucky shrugs his leather jacket off and hangs it by the door.

“Donno, Sam. I don’t snoop other people’s mail.”

“That was one time and it was an accident.”

Bucky smirks and comes over to plant a kiss on Sam’s cheek before opening the kitchen cupboards.

“The note’s for you, Sam. But I’ve been sworn to secrecy about its author. Curry sound good for dinner?”

“Mm, yeah.” Sam unfolds the blue paper and finds a note scrawled in crayon.

daer Captain Sam, I think your really great! thanks four being a hero!

Sam smiles. His insides go all warm and fuzzy. He pictures Bucky being stopped on the sidewalk by a kid, handing this note off knowing it would get to Sam. Brave kid. He smooths the paper out and clips it on the fridge with a magnet. Bucky has started chopping up potatoes at the counter. Sam hugs him from behind and rests his chin on his partner’s shoulder.

“If you see my secret admirer again, tell them I loved the note.”

“Will do,” Bucky promises with a wink.

A week later, Bucky brings Sam a folded piece of pink paper and beams at him.

“Your note-writer was ridiculously happy to hear you loved it. They made you this and I only know it’s amazing because they showed it to me.”

Sam laughs and unfolds it. A crayoned version of himself waves back at him with a huge smile. He’s wearing the Cap suit with the wings flared open behind him.

“I think it��s a great likeness,” Bucky comments. Sam’s crayon head is massive and his goggles are comically big and round to match.

“And look,” Bucky traces over the paper with a vibranium finger. “It’s a bunch of stars in a heart shape. I told them to be really proud of that.”

Sam laughs again. “Yeah, they should!”

Under him is a row of puffy clouds and the same childish scrawl as the first note.

Captain Sam, Your a star! Im gonna fly like you one day and see the stars too.

Sam’s heart swells. That’s going on the fridge forever.

The next week, Sam is standing at their bookshelf when Bucky gets home. He’d already stuck a month’s worth of Garfield comics in Bucky’s copy of Lord of the Rings. Now he’s rubbing his chin, deliberating his next read with his bottom lip stuck out in a thoughtful pout. Bucky can’t resist kissing him.

“God, you’re so cute.”

Sam grins. “I know it.” Bucky gets lost staring fondly into his brown eyes before remembering his task.

“Ah!” He pulls two notes out of his pocket this time. One is yellow construction paper and the other looks torn from a notebook. “Delivery for a Mr. Wilson.”

“Ooo, yes! Do I have time to read these before we leave?”

“Yeah, ‘course babe. Gotta look for my bike gloves anyway.”

Sam opens the letter first. It’s in neater handwriting, maybe a teenager’s.

Mr. Sam Wilson, thanks for being a hero in more ways than one. My kid brother is thrilled to send his drawings to Captain America. I tell him we are so lucky to live in the same town as our hero. Mr. Bucky is really nice about it and he always talks about you like you’re his hero too. Thank you for sharing yourself with the world. Mum used to worry about me a lot after I came out, she worried I would feel alone. Seeing you on the TV helped because now she knows I’ll always have someone like me who I can look up to. She says if you can be a Black and gay Captain America, then I can believe anything is possible for me too.

Sam sniffs and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. He reads the note again then grabs his jacket and finds Bucky sitting on his motorcycle out front.

“Here, read this.”

Bucky gingerly takes the note and Sam can tell when he’s read it cause his eyes well up and his chin quivers.

“Buck, are you crying?”

“No.” He wipes at his eyes. “What’s the other one?” Bucky nods at the yellow paper in Sam’s fist.

“Oh, I forgot to look!”

Sam leans on the bike beside Bucky and unfolds another drawing. Sam’s still in his Cap suit, still has a giant head, and this time Bucky’s in it too. His metal arm is twice as thick as his other one. They’re holding hands and a cluster of blue hearts are floating above them. Sam hears a sniffle and looks at his partner.

“Yeah, okay, I’m definitely crying.”

Sam laughs, kisses a tear from his cheek, and leans into his chest, Bucky’s arms wrapping around him. Sam looks back at the drawing and his heart feels full to bursting. They’ll have to frame this one.

Bonus:

A few weeks later, Bucky startles Sam by dropping a box in his lap. He just laughs when Sam looks up at him.

“I think your admirer got his entire 2nd grade class to write to you.” Sam’s face lights up. “Better start reading now, Cap, if you wanna finish today. I’ll make popcorn.”

[paperpocalypse]

pb & m.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 4. Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader 

Word Count: 2,749 words

Warnings: Referenced animal death/gore

“Are you sure he’s okay?”

Klaus sighs loudly, bringing his foot up to his face with practiced ease. “He’s probably just stewing over his training again,” the boy says, flexing his toes gingerly before blowing on his big toe. You purse your lips at his words, screwing the cap of black nail polish shut, and Klaus looks up at you from underneath his eyelashes. “It’s Five, [Y/n]. You should see him when you leave for the weekend. Total shut in.”

“But he hasn’t even come down for lunch or supper.” Setting the nail polish down, you tuck your knees up towards your chest, brow furrowing. “I mean, he doesn’t usually do that, does he?”

“I dunno. Sometimes!” Klaus exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You know, he talks all the time about what a mess I am, but he’s hardly more functional than me.”

You frown at him, eyes narrowing. “You don’t skip meals when I’m gone, do you?”

He waves you off. “Of course not. But that’s not the point. The point is, Five is a broody boy obsessed with his powers, so don’t be surprised if he wants to be alone for a day or a week.”

“He’s not a loner.”

“Well, he tries to be more sociable when you’re here.”

“No.” You pause, resting a cheek on one knee. “I’d still like him even if he wasn’t.”

Klaus just raises his eyebrows, sending another gust of air toward his toes.

The black and red stripes on his nails are settling quite nicely, but the success doesn’t make you as proud as it usually would. You chew your lip and look at the closed door. Normally, during this time in the late evenings, you wouldn’t be surprised if Five blinked through, supposedly to take back something Klaus had snuck from his room or to make sure neither of you “had died” – though you’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that he just wanted to hang out with you and Klaus, since he’d stay a little longer after confirming that you and Klaus were, in fact, still alive. No such visit tonight. In fact, you’ve barely seen him all day.

The thought dampens your mood quite a bit.

The next thing you know, Klaus propels himself to a stand.

“Where are you going?” you ask, blinking as he stretches and gives you a particular look.

“More like where are you going,” he replies, sighing. He grabs a hold of your wrist and starts tugging. “If you’re going to pine after Five all night, you might as well do something about it. Go … pop in and see what he’s up to.”

Break into Five’s room? Even though it’s tempting, you shake your head vigorously, ignoring the pining part. “You said he wanted to be alone. He might get mad at me.”

“He can’t get mad at you. He’d die of guilt.”

Klaus continues to pull on your arm until you’re sure it’ll come off if you stay on the floor. You give him an imploring look as you stand up, though the thought of checking up on Five is sounding more and more necessary by the second.

“Klaus –”

All the boy does is say your name right back as he throws the door open, nudging you outside into the dimly lit hallway. “Go have your quality time and come back when you’re done.”

“Are you sure –”

“He’ll be ecstatic. Especially if I’m not there.” And with that, Klaus shoos you off with a smile, closing the door.

Now alone, you look down the empty hallway, feeling mildly exposed and hoping that Five doesn’t come down the stairs right at this moment. There’s no doubt in your mind that you’re going to go up there, but … it’d make more sense if Klaus checked up on him, wouldn’t it? No matter how well you get along with Five, he and Klaus are brothers. They know each other a lot better than you probably ever will.

You should get him some food.

Inhaling sharply, you turn on your heel and make your way down the stairs, trying to make much less noise than you usually would – though you doubt anybody would care too much about a squeaking step, travelling through the Hargreeves mansion, especially down to the kitchen at night, still makes you wary of making your presence too big sometimes.

The air gets a bit chillier as you descend the last stretch of stairs leading to the basement, going faster as you get closer to the ground. Strangely, the lights in the kitchen are already on; you skip the last step and hurry through the gaping hole in the wall, curious.

Number Seven looks up from the table as you enter the kitchen, her surprised expression mirroring yours.

“Vanya?” you blurt.

She opens her mouth, then closes it, and you look down at the ingredients spread across the table. A jar of peanut butter, a half-finished bag of wonder bread. A bag of marshmallows – the mini ones used for rice krispies. Intrigued, you venture closer. You didn’t know Vanya had a sweet tooth.

(Suddenly, you realize that you don’t know much about her at all.)

“What are you doing down here?” you ask as you approach the table.

She looks at you, still a bit wide-eyed, then looks down at the slice of bread in her hand. “Um,” she starts, then pushes forward, “I was … Five missed dinner and lunch, so I was going to make him something to eat.”

“Really?” You beam, glad that she had the same idea. You could go together. “So was I. Mind if I help?”

For a moment, Vanya hesitates. But then she nods cautiously, smiling a little, and you give a thumbs up and head over to the utensil drawer. Opening it up, you take a moment to try to attract one of the butter knives to your hand, but after it does nothing more than quiver a bit, you sigh and pick it up with a finger.

“Five really likes peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches,” Vanya explains when you walk back to the table. “They’re his favorite.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

You fetch a bread slice from the bag and set it on the cutting board, then, after peeking over at Vanya’s work, scoop up a big glob of peanut butter and slather it onto the bread. She sprinkles some marshmallows on top of hers and squishes another slice on top of the marshmallows. You follow her lead exactly. The minute or two that you spend making the sandwich are all wordless, very unlike when you and Klaus are together, but you find yourself enjoying them either way.

“Maybe we could bring him a drink, too? What do you think?” you ask.

She nods. “There’s apple juice in the fridge.”

—

The presentation isn’t anything fancy, but it gets the job done, and you get the task of carrying the cup of apple juice while Vanya holds onto the sandwiches.

“I hope it’s okay,” Vanya murmurs after she knocks on Five’s door, shifting on her feet.

Even though you’re wondering the same thing, you instinctively nod your head. “Don’t worry,” you whisper back. “We did a good job.”

She looks over at you out of the corner of her eye and manages a small smile in return. Right after that, the door opens.

You immediately feel a bit better upon seeing Five; however, the happiness gives way to concern when you see his expression.

Five looks at the two of you, then at the plate in Vanya’s hands and the cup in yours, before speaking.

“Now’s not a good time.”

His tone isn’t cruel or dismissive. But it is a little dry, and very heavy and tired, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from telling him so.

Vanya’s face falls.

You’re unable to stay quiet any longer when both siblings’ gazes move away from the other. “Five,” you say, reaching out to touch Five’s shoulder gently. “Vanya’s been really worried about you. And me, too. We, um, wanted to bring you something to eat.”

The boy glances at Vanya again, who seems to have shrunk a little but still nods, and to your relief, his lips purse. He finally backs away from the door to let the two of you through.

“I’m not hungry,” he says, heading back to his desk. “… But thanks.”

Trailing after Vanya, you inspect Five’s room as you walk in. The walls are already crammed with chalky equations and notes and graphs, none of which you can begin to understand. When you look over at the corner where Five is, you spot the wastebasket next to his desk, filled to the brim with crumpled notebook paper.  Klaus was partly right, you think with worry. You’re not completely surprised.

You make your way over to Five and put the cup of apple juice on his desk, right next to the plate of peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. “You need to eat to think better,” you plead when he looks at you. “Right, Vanya?”

“I put lots of marshmallows,” she adds. “And I showed [Y/n] how to make one for you too.”

“I might’ve put too much peanut butter,” you mutter, scratching the back of your neck.

“That’s fine.”

You crack your brightest grin. “Famous last words, Five.”

He shrugs and turns back to his work. The two of you wait expectantly, albeit somewhat awkwardly, watching Five stare at his math and the textbook propped up against the wall in front of him. The end of his pen taps against the open pages of his notebook: tap tap tap tap tap. But he doesn’t write. You don’t think he even blinks. Troubled, you share a glance with Vanya; this time, it’s she who nods at you, reassuring.

Finally, Five sighs and puts his pen down. You don’t know if you’re glad or feel bad for it. Maybe both.

“Do you want us to leave?” Vanya ventures to ask.

He shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “Stay,” he mutters, standing up. He picks up the cup of apple juice and takes a gulp, then grabs the plate and strides across the room to his bed. “Just in case my jaw is glued shut from [Y/n]’s sandwich.”

Vanya suppresses a snort. Your mouth drops open.

“Hey!”

Still, the joke – a Five joke, but a joke nonetheless – brings a cautious but real smile to your face as Five sits on the edge of his bed, taking a bite out of one of the sandwiches. You don’t know which one is yours and which one is Vanya’s. Not that it matters, unless his jaw really does get glued shut because of the peanut butter. You’ll shoulder the blame in that case.

(… Could your jaw get glued shut from peanut butter?)

You gravitate toward the bed as Five eats, sitting down next to him; Vanya lingers by the desk a little longer, and you wave her over.

“Come sit, Vanya.”

She looks between the two of you, then obliges, going over to sit on the other side of Five. She rests her hands on top of the comforter, leaning back on them as Five finishes the first sandwich and starts on the next one.

“We barely saw you after joint training,” you say after a minute or so of watching him polish off one half of the sandwich. Not hungry, he said. His actions definitely say otherwise. “Have you been working all day?”

He gives a brief, affirming grunt.

Taking that as a sign to go on, you swing your legs slightly back and forth. “I missed seeing you,” you say.

You think you see Vanya’s expression shift in your peripheral, but she turns her head before you can make sure. You also think Five stops chewing for a split second, but there shouldn’t be a reason for him to be surprised, so you’re probably just imagining things.

Five is your friend. Of course you’d miss seeing him if he disappeared all day.

In any case, he finally speaks again once there’s just a single piece of crust left; and when he does, his voice is so low that you wonder if he’s talking to himself.

“I had a drawback today.”

Vanya furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”

Five stares down at the last scrap of crust, picking at a loose crumb. It falls onto the plate. “I could blink with mice on my first try. So Dad wanted me to blink with a dog today.” His voice remains low. “And I …”

For the first time today – and perhaps even this month – you witness Five’s expression crumple just the slightest bit. An uneasy feeling squirms in your chest.

“I botched it.”

“It’s … it’s okay, Five,” you try to comfort, “I’m sure you tried your –”

He shakes his head, cutting you off with a glare. “No,” he snaps, “you don’t get it. I botched it. I blinked with the dog and it turned inside out.”

Vanya’s eyes widen.

Your stomach turns.

So that’s why. Biting your lip, you stare at Five, horrified, trying desperately not to imagine what that had looked like. What that had felt like. Inside out. Sir Hargreeves doesn’t care for animals, you know that, but you didn’t think – you don’t know why you didn’t –

“I’m sorry, Five,” Vanya whispers as you hug Five, her voice shaky. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs blandly, and you tighten your hold, feeling how tense he actually is. “Intentions don’t mean anything if you screw it up in the end.”

He finishes the crust, moving away from your hug to put the plate on his nightstand. Vanya wipes her eyes. When he comes back, you reach for his hand and squeeze it.

“Thanks for telling us, Five,” you tell him softly.

If Five looked tired before, now he seems utterly drained. But the tension seems to have ebbed. Just a little. And after a few seconds, he squeezes your hand back; well, not really a squeeze, but his fingers tighten, just barely, around yours. He meets your eyes and you smile a small smile.

Vanya gives her brother a brief hug, then stands up. “We should go,” she tells you reluctantly, glancing at the alarm clock. “Dad’s going to check our rooms soon.”

Dammit, you hate curfew. “Yeah, you’re right.” You pull away, not quite liking how cold your hand feels when you let go. Quickly weighing your options, you wrap your arms around Five one last time and give him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up as well. “See you tomorrow, Five. Try to get some sleep?”

He just shrugs, looking at the equations on his wall. Oh. Hopefully, you think as you grab Vanya’s hand and open the door, you didn’t make him too uncomfortable. The door creaks loudly and you cringe.

With one last “goodbye” from the two of you, which he returns in a murmur, you and Vanya hurry out of Five’s room and head quietly down the stairs.

“I hope he feels better,” you whisper, letting go of Vanya’s hand to hold onto the railing.

“I think he does. A little bit, at least.”

You reach the bottom, hesitating before saying what’s on your mind. “Um, Vanya?”

“Mhmm?”

“You know Five really well, right?”

The girl blinks, then smiles a little proudly. “… Oh, well, I guess so.”

“Does Five not like hugs?” you worry. “I just – I kinda do it without thinking, you know, and I think I might’ve made him uncomfortable back there.”

Vanya stares at you openly for a moment, tilting her head. “Not usually,” she eventually responds. Then a corner of her mouth twitches upwards. “But … I think he likes yours.”

“Oh.” That makes you feel better. “That’s good.”

“You should ask him later, though.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Footsteps lighter, you head to your room across from the stairs and twist the doorknob, then stop short. That’s right – Klaus wanted you to come back after you visited Five. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you figure that you’ll need to talk to him tomorrow morning, not wanting extra repetitions for loitering in the hallway. He’ll understand.

Pushing the door open, you look back at Vanya. “’Night, Vanya.”

She smiles, and you feel the warm glow of a newfound camaraderie with the seventh sibling.

“’Night.”

[carnationcreation]

Hi can you do a Reggie x reader where she’s Luke’s younger sister and her and Reggie were dating in the 90s and then in the present when Luke goes sees his parents the reader is there and Reggie isn’t expecting that and the reader is telling her parents that she’s been trying to expose Bobby about his hit songs are her brothers and Reggie and Luke are both happy about that and also the reader knows julies mom and she asks to come hear her play and see Luke and Reggie. I hope this isn’t to weird

TITLE: Number One Fan (JATP Reggie x reader)

Masterlist

Request an imagine here!

Request: Yes!

Pairing:  Reggie x reader, Luke x sister! reader

Prompt/summary:   The reader is Luke’s younger sister. Her and Reggie were dating in the 90s and she finally gets closure after 20 years

Word Count: 2,136

Warnings:  some angst I guess

Authors note: I already had a similar idea to this so I’m gonna take some ideas from what I already had written. I had to simplify this a little bit, but I hope you enjoy!

The beating of my heart drowned out the sound of the doorbell as I stood outside of my parents house. Though this event happens every year it still doesn’t quell the amount of anxiety and pain I feel, even after 20 years. In 1995 I didn’t only lose my brother Luke, I lost my boyfriend Reggie. Oh even the thought of their names makes my eyes water and my throat close up.

The door finally swung open after what felt like a century. Seeing dad standing there brought up feelings I had tried to run away from, feelings I tried to fix and shut out but never truly could. He pulled me into a tight hug and wiped some of my tears away. This is how it went every single year on his birthday, no one truly spoke but everyone knew there was nothing to say.

I still remember the night Luke ran away. My parents tried their best to pry where he was staying out of me but I never let them, I just couldn’t betray my brother like that. Besides they treated him terribly after they found out about the band. I guess I still blame them for him never coming home. 

After the candle was blown out and the cake was cut I took mine into Luke’s room to eat. I knew he’d be proud since our parents used to be super strict about no food in the bedroom and I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity. His room was still the same, even after 20 years. Posters of his favorite bands hung on the walls, his guitar sat on its stand in the corner. I only knew one song that he taught me, but it’s become the only thing that feels close to him. The strings hadn’t been replaced in years and I could see the exact spot where his fingers had worn away the metal leaving it smooth and thin. It still sounded beautiful after all this time.

I felt something in the room shift. Goosebumps formed on my arms as I felt something soft wrap around me. It was barely there. If I wasn’t paying attention I would’ve missed it entirely with how the air seemed to wrap around me. Tears fell down my face as I put the guitar up and grabbed the empty plate, trying to make sense of what happened.

_______________________________________________

It wasn’t even a few days later when there was another ring from the doorbell. Dad answered it and let the girl inside.

“Julie lives in the house the band used to rehearse in,” Dad said as I walked into the living room, “She was just telling me she found a song that Luke wrote.”

“It’s a song about a girl named Emily?” Julie questioned.

Mom gasped, “I’m Emily…”

“Then I think your son may have written this song for you,” Julie said.

I took the paper out of her hands slowly, looking over my brother's handwriting and scribbles that covered the paper. I turned to my mom and nodded while handing it to her.

“I need some air,” I said. I walked out the front door and leaned against the hood of my car trying to catch my breath.

It wasn’t too long after that Julie finally walked outside. She saw me and put her hands in her back pockets before walking over slowly.

“Your Luke’s sister?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, I wiped the tears off of my face, “and Reggie’s girlfriend back in the day.”

“Oh,” she said, I could tell she was shocked and I giggled at her wide eyes.

I took a deep breath, “Did you find his songwriting notebook? I’ve tried searching for it for years, it wasn’t in his stuff when he…”

“He must’ve left it in the garage before he left that night, and it’s there now. It’s one that I found. Do you want it back?”

“No,” I said, “I don’t think I have the strength to look through them all, and honestly I don’t want to know how many sappy love songs he wrote about the girls he chased when he was younger.” 

Julie laughed and I joined her, it felt good to finally be able to talk to someone about my brother.

“Julie?” I asked, “Did you find any of Reggie’s stuff?”

Julie took a pause before responding, “Yes I found some of his jackets in the garage.”

“Would you mind to bring some of them?” I asked.

She nodded before pausing again, “Did you ever move on? After that night?”

I sighed and looked down at the ground, “I lost both my brother, my best friend, and my boyfriend in the same night. It’s hard to move on after that. Losing not one but three of the people you love can change you.”

Julie nodded before pulling another piece of paper out of her back pocket, “I asked your parents if I could perform some of their songs, I think you should come.”

“Thank you Julie, I’d love to. You know I was their number one fan right? I always got to sit in at practice and got their shirts before they were for sale. I guess I didn’t want to listen to their music at all after everything that happened.”

“They wouldn’t want you to lock music out of your life, just know they died while going after their dreams. Not many people get to do that.”

I nodded before pulling her into a hug. She waved as she walked off leaving just me and the paper she gave me. I opened it up and a smaller white piece of paper fell on the ground. The first paper, bright pink and vibrant, read Julie and the Phantoms Live!

The white piece of paper was obviously from my brother's songwriting book, scribbled at the top of the page in Reggie’s handwriting was (Y/n)’s song.

_______________________________________________

The Opheum. The same place my brothers passed away over 20 years ago now. I found Julie’s dad near the front row and took my place next to them at the wall separating the fans from the stage. Julie appeared on stage finally and delivered a short speech dedicating the song to her mom and her friends. I was confused as the notes to Stand Tall started playing, I wrote this with Luke a month before he died. Where did she get this? My answer came as slowly each member of Sunset Drive appeared on stage in front of me. Tears formed in my eyes as I saw the people I loved the most show up after 20 years of thinking they were gone. After a big finale and a standing ovation Julie finally walked backstage and she had asked me to meet her back there after the show.

“Julie I- what was that? Are they really here?” I said as I rushed up to her.

“Hold on,” she said as she pulled me into the dressing room, she closed the door and turned back to me, “I’m going to tell you but I don’t want you to freak out or think I’m crazy.”

“Julie I just saw the three people I thought were dead for 20 years play an opening act on stage, if anyones crazy it’s obviously me.”

Julie took a big breath and went into the entire story of how she formed a band with my three ghost best friends and managed to convince everyone that it was a hologram. And then how a creepy demon dude branded them and is trying to force them to join his club and they have to avoid it by finding their unfinished business to be able to cross over. By the end of it I was leaning back in the chair I sat down in and rubbing my face.

“So they’re here?” I asked.

“Yes, well, kinda.”

“And people can only see them when they’re playing?” I said as I pushed my hair back.

“Yes,” she said, “and I know I know it doesn’t seem real but I can prove it to you.”

“How?”

“Follow me to my house.”

_______________________________________________

I drove behind them on the way home and waited for Julie to give me the signal to come inside.

“You know Luke wrote Stand Tall as a duet for me?”

Julie turned to me with wide eyes, “Oh- uh, no I didn’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be Julie, I’m so glad he finally got to perform it with someone,” I said with tears brimming my eyes

“Don’t you still want to be with him?” Julie asked.

I raised my eyes, “With Reggie?” 

She nodded.

“I’ve aged 20 years Julie, and spent most of that time believing he was gone. I moved on. Maybe if I could see him again I would, but I don’t really know if people would find it weird a 36 year old is dating someone who hasn’t aged.”

Julie laughed before I could continue, “I’m just happy he finally got to live his dream, and I’ll always be your biggest fan.”

 She led me out in the garage that my brothers had practiced in when they were in high school. I looked around and saw how much had changed over the years, a grand piano sat in the back that I had never seen before. The lights were still off but I could see the outline of the couch and furniture and instruments scattered around. 

“I never got to say goodbye before they crossed over,” Julie sighed and I rubbed her shoulder, “Or tell them thank you.”

I heard a whisper come from inside the studio and Julie whipped around to turn on the lights. I couldn’t see who she was talking to but I knew it was them.

“I thought you crossed over?”

My face furrowed in confusion, “What’s going on?”

“They pretended to cross over but the Orpheum wasn’t their unfinished business,” Julie said as her voice shook.

“So they came here to die again?!” I yelled.

Julie smiled and said, “Reggie said you’re still the same firecracker he asked out in freshman year.”

“Reggie?”

She pointed to the ground beside the recliner, the air seemed cloudy, surrounding a vague outline of a person. I sat down on the ground near the blob and cried wishing I could see them.

Julie pleaded with them to go join Caleb but I knew it was no use. Their stubbornness transcended the mortal world. I saw Julie lean up and hug a figure, then I saw Luke. I gasped as he started to glow a golden light.

“Why can I feel you?” Julie said. 

“I don’t know but, I feel stronger.”

“Luke?” I gasped out.

He turned and gave me his signature smile, “See? I told you you’d never get rid of me for too long.” 

I rushed forward and tackled him in a hug.

“Reggie, Alex come here!” Julie yelled.

I felt three more sets of arms around me. More glowing light filled the room and I looked up to see my three best friends standing in front of me once more.

“Whoa,” Reggie said, I looked up and looked deep into his eyes, “I don’t feel as weak anymore.”

The boys winced as the marks on their wrists began to float into the air and disappeared. 

“What does this mean?” Julie said.

“I think the band’s back,” Luke smiled.

“And with our number one fan,” Reggie said and threw his arm around me. I buried my face in his neck and finally smelled the scent I’d forgotten long ago. 

“You guys think we can try the hug thing one more time?” Alex said, causing us to laugh. We all pulled into another group hug.

After we pulled back again Reggie said, “I like this.” Before pulling us into another hug. 

“We played the Orpheum!” Julie shouted and we all jumped around, never letting go until Julie’s dad called her inside.

I stayed outside with the boys for just a little bit longer. My arms never left Reggie’s neck unless it was to hug the other too, trying to catch up on 20 years worth of affection that was missed.

“You look hot,” Reggie said causing me to chuckle.

“Dude!” Luke yelled, “I don’t care how old she is, that's still my little sister.”

“Sorry bro, but she’d be a hot mom,” Reggie smirked.

I smiled and pulled Reggie in for another hug.

He pulled back and looked into my eyes, “So what does this mean for us?” 

“I don’t know honestly,” I sighed, “But I guess we’ll figure it out.”

“I’m never letting you go,” Reggie said as he buried his face in my hair.

“I’m counting on it besides you still have to play that song for you number one fan."

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART FOUR

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: some sexual tension and light flirting. Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Meet your roommate’s brother, Jake. Charming, right? Thank you as always to the loves of my life, @lantern-inthenight and @myownparadise96. They’re the best editor and inspiration respectively. 

MASTERPOST

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed

@bigblack-catattack @myownparadise96 @lara-gvf @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​

The weekend had come with the prediction for cooler weather. You had complained about it on the couch as you brought up the weather app on your phone. He had quickly reminded you that 62 degrees was not cold. Not even chilly, by Michigan standards, but that’s just about the coldest it ever got back where you were from. 

It had been a tradition for Josh to put in a DVD of cartoons on Saturday morning, and you had to admit, you kind of liked it. It was one of the many things he did that was delightfully soft. He didn’t ever seem to take himself too seriously, which you had been guilty of for nearly your whole life. He was really beginning to remind you of the lighter side of life, and you couldn’t say that you minded. 

After breakfast, you sat on the opposite end of the couch as him, reading what parts of your presentation you had put together. 

“The content is good so far, but you’re still not looking up from your paper.”

You chanced a glance up at him, giving a defeated look. “I’m nervous,” you admitted, setting your notebook down in your lap. 

“It’s just me,” he assured, placing a hand over his chest. “You just have to make a connection with your audience.” 

You gave him a frown, reaching up to anxiously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “How?”

“Well,” he started, leaning across the couch. He wrapped his finger and thumb around your chin and tilted your head up until you were looking straight at him. You wanted to laugh, but you had a feeling it would come out sounding nervous. “It helps to improve your posture, first off. You want to be straight but not rigid, so let’s loosen up a bit.”

He mimicked shaking out the tension, so you followed suit, trying to be more fluid. You hadn’t noticed how tight you were before.

“And think about this presentation in the context of ‘I have information that will be really valuable to these people’.”

You groaned, curling your knees up to your chest and setting your chin on them. “It seems like it comes so effortlessly to you.” 

He gave you a little smile, raking his teeth across his bottom lip absently. “Well, it doesn’t. Confidence comes from yourself, yah know? It’s all about tricking people into believing that they should like you and want to listen to you. Humans are weird that way.”

You gave a hum, nodding. It all sounded good in theory.

“The next time you read me this paper, pretend that you’re a top executive at an important company and you’re trying to convince me about the importance of your subject.”

You couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Oh, you wanna role play?” 

He snorted, giving you a playful eye roll. 

+++

On Sunday, you had planned to do chores - you had even started a little calendar for you two to follow. This week it was supposed to be your turn to do laundry, but since you weren’t anywhere near close to finishing your paper, Josh had graciously offered to switch chores so you wouldn’t have to leave the house. You had sent him out with two full baskets of laundry, indescribably grateful that you wouldn’t have to brave the cold. 

After taking a relaxing shower, you were posted up in your room, absently tapping the eraser of your pencil against the side of your notebook as you reread through a paragraph in your textbook. You went to jot down a note when a knock on the door caused you to jump a bit. 

As you made your way to the living room, you had assumed it must just have been Josh, not able to grab out his key while juggling all of the laundry too. You had told him to message you when he was leaving the laundromat so you could help him, but he wasn’t the best at following instructions. 

As you swung the door open, your body went rigid, because standing before you seemed to be a clone of your roommate, except his long, silky looking hair fell around his shoulders and over his chest. Some of the slopes of his face were a bit off too, and his outfit seemed to be one of the very last things Josh would ever wear.

You opened your mouth to say something, but not a single word came to mind. Instead, you opted to reach up and pull the towel from your head, letting your damp hair slip down around your face. 

His eyebrows raised at you expectantly, a humored smirk playing across his lips. 

“Uh, hey,” he offered. “Josh here?” 

You broke your eyes away from him, shaking your head. “No, sorry, he went to do laundry. You must be his brother.”

He nodded at you as you stepped out of the way for him to enter. “You must be his new roommate.” 

“Newish,” you agreed, raking your fingers through your locks and trying to make it look slightly more put together for company. “Can I get you some coffee?” 

“That sounds great,” he agreed, shooting you a smile. 

You were sitting in the living room with him, chatting easily about school when Josh fumbled his way through the door, his frame hidden behind a stack of laundry baskets. You rushed over to help him, setting your mug on the coffee table. Once the top basket was out of his arms, he was easily able to set the other one down on the hardwood. 

“Okay, it’s all done except I didn’t fold anything.”

“Uh, that’s fine,” you laughed breathlessly. “We have company.”

His eyes flicked up to Jake’s form, sitting- no, lounging- on the couch. He was practically melted into the worn cushions, and his ease made you a little envious. He seemed like the kind of person that never looked out of place.

 “How’s it going?” Josh asked as he stood from his bent position. 

Jake shrugged in return but paired it with a smile that told you all you needed to know about how it was going. “I just wanted to get my wallet back.”

“Oh, shit, right.” Josh disappeared into his room, and the sound of him talking himself through where he put it was clearly audible in the living room. When he returned it to Jake's waiting hand, he gave a half-hearted apology. 

“Why did you have his wallet?” you chanced through a suspicious smile.

He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, his cheeks suddenly taking on a flushed tone. “I, uh. Had a lot to drink at that party the other night and mistook it for mine.”

“Even though they look nothing alike,” Jake chimed in cheekily before continuing on in a more genuine tone than you’d heard him use thus far. “It was nice to see you having a good time though.”

You had been amusedly watching Josh react to the ribbing until the last bit of Jake’s comment. His features leveled out instantly, slipping from the obvious enjoyment of attention to something more somber. 

In an effort to turn the tide, you stood and gestured toward the kitchen. “Jake, did you want to stay for lunch?” 

He shook his head at you politely. “I have plans in a bit, but could I take a rain check?” 

“Of course,” you agreed. The goodbyes were simple and didn’t drag on, and as soon as Jake was gone, Josh cocked his head at you.

“So. What’s for lunch?” 

You snorted a laugh at him, having expected something more informatory. “I’m not sure. What would you like?” 

“Should I make us some salad or something?” 

You shook your head at him, giving him a sour look. “No way I’m letting you make lunch - you just did all of the laundry.”

He gave you a bright-looking smile in return, looking pretty pleased for the recognition. “Were you able to get any homework done?”

“Not really,” you admitted with a slight cringe. “Jake showed up as I was getting out of the shower.”

“Ah yeah, he can pop up at really inconvenient times.”

You shot him a smirk over your shoulder as you pulled a head of lettuce from the fridge and started ripping it apart. “I’m going to assume you share that trait as well.”

“Who, me?” he teased, leaning forward onto his elbows on the kitchen counter.

 You paused, unsure how to continue with the question you wanted to ask. 

“Do you and him...have a good relationship?” 

His brows furrowed, his mouth setting into a puzzled line. “Yeah, I think so anyway. Why do you ask?”

You bit your bottom lip, turning to look at him face to face. “It just seemed to get a little tense there at the end.” Your fingers reached up to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Is there something I should know about?”

He gave you (what you can only assume was meant to be) a reassuring smile as he placed his hand on your shoulder. His skin felt warm against you, even through the fabric of your long-sleeved shirt. 

“There’s nothing you need to worry about.” 

You hadn’t been convinced until you actually looked into his eyes, somehow finding a pleasant warmth in the deep honey color. 

So when you gave him an “okay”, you actually meant it. 

You turned to him again after a moment with a sly look. “Hey, is your brother single?”

Just as you had expected, his eyebrows shot up in a dumbstruck look. You watched him open and close his mouth a few times before he figured out how to speak again, but this time with a smirk. “I mean, he’s always at least kinda single, I think.”

You nodded amusedly. You had gotten that kind of vibe from him as well. 

“Why, are you thinking of moving in on him?” he tried, crossing his tan arms over his chest. 

You feigned a surprised look. “Who, me?” you asked, mimicking what he had said to you just moments before. “Nah, that sounds messy. I’m actually thinking maybe for Kate. She seems like she wouldn’t want anything too serious.”

He lets out a breathy laugh as he nods. “Then she sounds like the girl for him.” 

You hummed contentedly as you let a few olives drop into the salad bowl. “And what if she wants some kind of Romeo to sweep her off her feet and treat her like a princess?” 

Your tone had been as light as a feather but when he smiled wide enough to show you his pearly teeth, it nearly knocked the breath from your lungs.

“Then she sounds like the girl for me.” 

+++

“Okay. So you’re saying he showed up while you were in the shower?” Kate was looking at you with the highest amount of interest you’d seen her give anything thus far. “And...he saw you naked?”

You laughed a little louder than you should have in the semi-quiet classroom. “No, are you even listening to me? It’s not a rom-com, it was just a normal situation.”

“Okay, so. What’s going to happen?” She was still looking at you like she expected you to tell her some grand story.

“Well, I was thinking about giving him your number. Then he could see you naked and you could tell me about it.” You flashed her a cheeky smile to pair with your teasing tone.

She sat back in her chair, wrapping her arms around her frame. Her eyes were fixed on the dark slate of the tabletop, looking like she had a lot to take in. After a brief moment of dragging her teeth over her bottom lip in thought, she replied, “Yes. That seems perfectly acceptable. But then can you also see Josh naked and tell me about it? I have a theory about twins I want to test out.”

You gave her a playful look of disgust. “If that ever did happen - and it would be an accident, if it did - I would definitely not tell you about it.”

She rolled her eyes lovingly at you. “I think you’d be surprised.” 

“With what-” 

Your question was cut off by the boisterous greeting of your professor as he entered the room. She shot you a triumphant smirk after effectively having had the last word. 

As she walked you out at the end of class you asked her, “Do you want to have lunch with us today?” 

“Hmm.” She pretended to ponder it for a moment. “Yes. But do you both want to come with me to Subway instead of eating here?”

You gave her a frown. “I’d love to, but our money is pretty tight.”

She flashed you a smile that made you feel warm and fuzzy as she materialized a black credit card from the pocket of her mom jeans. “My daddy’s buying.”

+++

You had texted Josh to meet you by the D doors on the south side of the building for lunch, and you and Kate waited there until you saw him round the corner. He gave you both a smile and a little wave as he got closer. 

“Kate, right?” he asked, holding his hand out for her to take. “She talks a lot about you.”

She grinned over at you, making you smile awkwardly. “I’ve seen you around at parties, but it's nice to meet you for real. She talks about you a lot too.”

Your eyes widened at that and despite yourself, you could feel your cheeks turning pink. 

“Yes, yes, I’m very fond of the both of you, now can we go?” you asked, trying to appropriately portray your annoyance as you ushered them toward the parking lot. 

“Shotgun?” she asked you as you approach a beat-up sedan. You nodded in agreement and hopped into the front seat. 

As Josh shuffled into the back, he leaned forward between the front seats. “So, you’re buying us lunch?”

“My dad is” she informed, meeting his eyes through the rearview mirror as she started the engine. “He gave me a credit card for emergencies, so I can’t do it very often, but every now and then I’ll treat myself to some takeout and a bottle of nice shampoo.”

You hummed, smiling over at her. “That’s why your hair always looks so nice, huh?”

She flicked it back, but it was short and silky enough that it didn’t catch on her shoulder. “Well, that and genetics. I’ll let you use it if you come sleep over some time.”

“Me too?” Josh teased, earning him an eye roll from her and a huffy laugh from you. 

+++

It was later, back at the apartment, that he finally said something about your lunch experience. The both of you were full from dinner and posted up on the couch, an open textbook on your lap and a notebook off to the side. You were supposed to be working on one of the three chapters you were meant to be taking notes from, but you had been pleasantly distracted watching Penny lazily swim around in her bowl on the coffee table. You found it rather charming that if Josh was in the house the goldfish usually wasn’t too far away from him. 

“Hey,” he started, plucking the pencil from your fingers and laying it along the spine of your notebook.  You met his eyes curiously. “Thank you for inviting me to lunch today.”

You gave him a look. “Of course. I like having you along.”

He smiled down at his hand, rested on top of the blanket between the two of you. 

“She seems like a good friend. You should invite her over here. I can even vacate - leave the apartment for you guys.”

“That is absolutely not necessary. You could be a bro and invite Jake over some time. And if that happens to be when Kate is here then maybe that’s just a happy coincidence.” 

He snorted a laugh. “Wow, you really want that to happen, huh?” 

“Okay, honestly. I half want it because I think he's handsome and they’d get along, and the other half is because I love that their couple name would be Jakate.”

He frowned over at you, eyes squinted. “There’s a lot to unpack there. Firstly, you think he’s handsome? And secondly, why wouldn’t you simplify it to Jate?”

“Hmm. Yes, obviously he’s handsome - I know he’s your brother but even you have to know that.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you but didn’t say anything else. 

“And their full first names fit together so perfectly. Why would you waste that?” 

He smiled as he absently picked up your pencil and drew a tiny circle on your notebook paper. 

After a moment of silence, you asked him, “What was it like growing up here?”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours for only a moment before they were back on his doodle. 

“Well,” he started, tilting his mouth down on one side as he tried to find the correct words. “I didn’t grow up exactly here - about an hour away.”

You smiled at him, prompting him to continue. 

“It was nice. We had a great childhood, a nice home, lots of love and attention.” 

It was quiet for a beat as you watched him draw a smiley face inside of the little circle (facing your way, so it was a little sloppy, but you thought that made it even cuter).

“I’m excited to see snow.”

He looked up at you with an inquisitive grin. “You’ve never seen snow before?”

You shrugged at him. “Only in movies.”

He gave you a breathy laugh. “You’re going to love it,” he promised. “At least for the first couple of days, then it gets old and you start to miss the sun.”

You knew what you wanted to say, but it took you longer than you’d like to admit to work up the courage to get the words out. 

“Being around you is like having your own personal sun.”

[kiriluvbot]

NO ONE ASKED BUT IM HERE TO SUPPLY ANYWAY!

sero hanta headcanons for the soul

- asexual, pan-romantic!

- uses they/he pronouns (didn’t know they could have different pronouns until he met tokoyami, and they spent their entire first year having a crisis over it)

- i know it’s old and overused but this kid is a hufflepuff, through and through

- CHILD OF APHRODITE. i take no criticism.

- a heartthrob among his entire grade, not just class A, but B as well, and the general course, and the business course,, AND the support course. everyone loves sero hanta.

- a natural charmer but is literally not aware that they make everyone within a 400 meter radius of them swoon

- until kaminari tells him in their second year. homie. youre fucking hot. and mina says, use it to your advantage. SO HE DOES.

- third year sero hanta is a force to be reckoned with, let me tell you. using their charm along with their natural ability to just. Befriend anyone (including a brick WALL tbh) to get his way. they get their way, they Know Everything. everyone knows his name by the time he graduates.

- The Older Sibling friend. not quite the mom friend or even the dad friend, but the older sibling. he’s a constant source of comfort and dependability among his class, but theyre also an agent of chaos that likes to cause problems On Purpose just to see what’ll happen. they never get caught being the instigator tho. no one can ever catch him.

- likes to watch aforementioned chaos from the sidelines. a mediator and an excellent negotiator. keeps his friends (cough, bakugo) from murdering each other or other people (cough, monoma)

- i like to think he’s the eldest child with two or three younger sisters and maybe a baby brother. their parents divorced right before sero started high school, and he and his siblings live with their mom. she’s a real lovely lady.

- since he’s the eldest, he kinda knows how to take care of people. sick people, sad people, hungry people. they can read and understand people really well if they really matter to him.

- most of the time there’s just wii music in their head tho

- they weren’t super great at prioritizing themselves/taking care of themselves when he first moved in to the dorms, but with time and help from his friends, they keep getting better at it

- sero gets his looks from his dad and his attitude from his mother. again, i imagine she’s a real lovely lady.

- their love language is physical touch! with so many younger siblings and his natural Eldest Sibling Vibe, it’s only natural for him to be super cuddly and affectionate!

- while it may not be their love language, sero also probably really likes spending quality time with his friends. they like going out, they like being loud and having a blast, but the kid also wouldn’t mind sitting in his room with his friends in silence while everyone did their own individual thing.

- the kind of person that sleeps with one pillow only and one blanket only

- probably runs warm, kicks off the blanket in the summer time. either sleeps on his back stretched out like a starfish or curled into themselves like a baby. no in between.

- has a pair of underwear they call their “lucky underwear” and it’s just a pair with spider-man’s face as the pattern.

- the kid does not have regular chairs in his dorm. it’s bean bags or the floor, man.

- they also have a hammock . i’ve seen this repeating trope in every single fic i’ve ever read

- keeps a stash of snacks in his room! but it’s a trade system. kaminari gets m&ms for cheek kisses, kirishima gets beef jerky for his most rib crushing hug, and todoroki gets gummy worms if he shares his manga.

- has led lights that are connected to his speaker and changes color every time a song changes

- has only three playlists. only three.

- they’re titled, respectively: “u yearning bastard,,” “monch monch”, “for pissing bkg off”

- he still listens to the jonas brothers, lots of big time rush, but also fleetwood mac and abba. frank ocean, lorde,,,, but also. they know every word to both mama mia soundtracks.

- absolutely adores horror + romance movies and not much else

- he tries getting into star wars for kirishima’s sake but he literally cannot keep up with the plot for shit.

- can quote the entirety of the notebook with mina (it infuriates bakugo to no end when those two ask to watch it for the fifth time in a week)

- has never tried an energy drink in their life, absolutely refuses to because caffeine makes him Shake and he hates the feeling

- drinks a lot of tea tho! with momo and todoroki!

- favorite snack is oranges. this kid always has oranges.

- aside from satou and bakugo, sero is probably one of the best cooks in their class

- resident pretty boy. did i mention everyone loves them? seriously. he even has the ever so stoic shouto todoroki pining after him.

- had a huge growth spurt the summer after second year began. it pissed off all their friends because he finally passed 6’ while the others were still stuck at 5’9 or below.

- by graduation, sero reached 6’3, and bakugo was still mad, because bakugo never passed 5’10.

- really grew into himself by the end of high school, finally learning how they wanted to express themselves with his clothing style, hair and *clenches fist* piercings

- started painting his nails the summer before their third year and hasnt stopped

- glorious, curly mullet. bejeweled hair pins. jean jackets and platform docs. piercings all the way up his ears. a nose ring and a smiley. (if you don’t know what a smiley is, i beg you to search it up. it’s the cutest fucking thing i’ve ever seen in my life and i want one so bad)

- ochaco is the one who cuts sero’s hair in third year.

- he got most of his piercings alongside bakugo or kaminari, but when they went to get the nose ring, they’d gone with iida and midoriya. and when he got the smiley, he went with todoroki, who squeezed his hand when the needle went through, even if todoroki wasn’t the one getting pierced.

- one time he and denki shaved their legs and arms and Everything to see if it would make them “more aerodynamic” ( “haha dont u mean /sero/dynamic?” “shut up”)

- strangely flexible. everywhere. it makes shouji shiver and jirou gag. it makes todoroki stare with wide, disbelieving eyes.

- really bad handwriting. like. what the fuck.

- that doesn’t stop them from writing cards for each of his friends for their birthdays, for christmas. it doesn’t stop them from writing letters to todoroki (even if he ended up shredding them and throwing them away after they were finished so no one would ever find them. he wanted to ask bakugo to incinerate them, just to be safe, but they didn’t want bakugo, or anyone else, that he had written love letters to shouto todoroki.)

(....not until after they confessed and finally started dating in their third year.)

- finger guns. unironically.

- is a surprisingly good dancer and a passable singer!!!!!!!!

- sings in the shower. also dances in the shower, but one time they fell and hit the wall connecting his and todoroki’s room, and todoroki thought he might’ve died. came to his door and didn’t bother knocking to check and see if they were alright. sero didn’t dance in the shower for a long time after that.

- his favorite color is yellow, but they also really, really like red.

- doesn’t have a fucking phone case on their phone.

- earbuds falling apart but he just keeps putting more tape over them because they really don’t wanna buy new ones (kirishima bought him a pair for christmas because he didn’t want sero to get electrocuted from broken earbuds. sero ensured him he would likely not get electrocuted just from some earbuds, but took the gift anyway)

- smell checks their clothes like a HEATHEN

- is in love with shouto todoroki.

that’s all :) sero hanta is my number one best boy and i love them dearly.

[bombyxluna]

Omega Mammon X GN!Human MC 

This is more of an intro to the series, which is why is a lil bit longer and more explanatory.

We’re here to break sub gender norms! 

I don’t know how many parts this will have but I want it to be angsty.

No NSFW yet :P

CW: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Talks of heats/ruts/sub genders

The Devildom is, for a lack of a more fitting word, strange. Though, you suppose, being surrounded by demons should be. 

There’s too much you don’t understand still. Three months have passed since you arrived - or were kidnapped? the jury is still out on this one - and it feels like an eternity of time and too little all the same. 

Demons, as it turns out, have very different customs and rituals from humans. So do angels. You are in the least thankful for the classes, but every other student in them seems well versed in the basics, while you float about unsure of what’s happening. Hell, even Luke knows more than you, and he hates demons. Not to mention he’s a child. Double low blow. 

The classes would be going a little bit better if you only had time to actually study for them. Though you do suspect that Diavolo doesn’t actually give a shit about grades and this entire school is a mockery to appease his peaceful plans, you're still stuck in what’s basically hell and having to go to what’s basically hell’s undergrad school. Great. 

The least you can do is prod around for some demon knowledge. You know, just in case. Because things are getting weirder by the day, and sometimes it feels like it’s all an ongoing inside joke you’re not really a part of.

Also, because of them. 

Living with demons wasn’t exactly unexpected, but living with the Seven Rulers of Hell - well, six of them, was. 

Despite initial impressions, you’re quickly figuring out there’s more to each of them than the public eye could see. Something lurking below their perfectly crafted personas, that is reserved only for the ones in close proximity to them. Only for family.

You’re not family, but you’re definitely in close proximity. 

It’s easy to tell how much they hide behind masks. Lucifer, as far as everyone else knows, it’s the always serious and stern big brother that will never crack a joke or play around. The entire foundation of that statement could be torn down with one single picture you had, of him playing with Cerberus. 

Leviathan, despite actively trying to kill you over a book series since - no, you’re not over it - is more than the shut-off otaku who is otherwise known as the Admiral of the Devildom’s marine. He is also clumsy and shy, and he goes on tangents about what he likes, and he is friendly. 

Satan, known as the hot-headed brother who has a tendency to overwork himself into humor changes and explosive arguments, is a reserved person, a cat lover, an erotica reader, and an absolute dork. 

Beelzebub, though he whines about food a lot, is far more than just the hungry brother who also happens to be a jock. He’s a carebear, a very attentive listener, has great movie recommendations, and an amazing cook. 

Asmodeus, who may look lust-driven and shallow to the onlooker, but is caring, a hopeless romantic, a good friend and brother, and even a little insecure. 

And then there’s Mammon.

At first, you didn’t know what to think of him. He acted high and mighty, too strung up in his high horse to look at a human such as yourself. When Lucifer put him in what was basically the task to babysit you, it’s safe to say you were annoyed. 

But then, you started to pick up on things. Small things. Unnoticeable to those who aren’t looking, but that become increasingly clearer once you realize them. 

He’s clingy. With his brothers, with you, even with his credit card. Though he never lets himself linger, when he hugs you, it’s tight and crushing, like he needs to be as close to you as possible. When your arms brush together as you walk about, he blushes. 

His brothers tease him. A lot. To the point, it’s painful to even to you sometimes. He laughs through it all, but you can see the drooping at the corners of his mouth, and how the giggles don’t reach his eyes.

And he’s scared. At least, that’s what it seems like to you. He puts up a front of being this big, angry, scary, and powerful demon such as his brothers, and though you certainly don’t doubt the powerful part, the angry and scary seem faulty. 

It’s intriguing. One day he’ll be all over you and the next he’ll act like he barely knows you, avoiding your eyes and only answering in curt answers. Sometimes his PDA is off the charts - he’ll throw arms around you, stick close, pull you closer when you’re walking together - and others he acts as the smallest of touches burns him like it pains him to be so much as near you. 

And there is that smell. It lingers on him but not on his brothers, like a perfume stronger than anything else. It doesn’t make any sense, though, because you’re pretty sure it’s not perfume. You’ve seen him spray himself before leaving in the mornings and it’s not the same smell. It’s something else, a light waft that emanates from him in waves, but no one else seems to pick up on. 

He’s a puzzle that refuses to fall in place, and all you want to do is figure him out. 

Solomon sits down in front of you with a loud gruff, dropping a small pile of stacked books on top of the wooden table in the library. The librarian shushes him when the sound echoes through the empty halls. Asmodeus hot on his trail, carrying nothing but a bag. He sits down as well, eyes all but sparkling.

“MC!” He sings. The librarian shushes him. 

“Hi, Asmo,” you make space on the table, putting your bag on the chair next to you.

“Ready to cram years of demon biology in one afternoon?” Solomon asks. He smiles wickedly as if he thinks it’s actually possible to do so, and you feel a little bit like a prey caged in by a much, much more astute predator.

You asked for help with the subjects, and maybe you’re already regretting it a little. “Sure,” you answer, trying to sound determined. 

He smiles. “What are you seeing in your class?” 

Solomon picked different classes for the year, and while you were fine with not doing whatever the hell goes on in advanced alchemy, it’s a little bit of a bummer to not share even one class with the only other human around. 

“I’m not… really sure,” you slouch on the seat, ready to give up. Why can’t the world be like the movies and you can spend an entire year just looking out the windows and being pretty? “Subgroups? Or sub genders?” 

“Oh,” he says softly, flipping through one of the heavier looking books. 

Next to him, Asmodeus is pulling out a notebook filled with post-its and notes made in glitter pens. You suspect he didn’t come to lecture you, and that suspicion is confirmed when the notebook is discarded as soon as it showed up, apparently being pulled out only because his bag was on the smaller side and his pink switch-like video game was at the bottom of it. He sighs dramatically, lowering the music coming from it, and laying his chin on Solomon’s shoulder.

Yeah, definitely not here for you. 

Solomon slides the open book towards you, marked on a page titled Subgenders then starts flipping through the next. 

Asmodeus watches as you read over the basic introduction. 

“It’s not hard,” he says, voice bubbly even though the words game over can be read on his screen, “It’s a little tricky to separate, but you get the hand really quickly.”

-

It’s not actually all that hard to figure things out. Solomon, despite the borderline chaotic ways he chooses to explain things, is a fairly good teacher. You manage to grasp the three sub genders and the differences between them in no more than a couple hours - a record if you’re being honest. 

And Solomon had been right. It’s not hard to separate them. Alphas are, generally speaking, the “dominant” gender. They’re easier to anger and natural born fighters. They experience ruts, can mate, and have knots. Most of the royal court are alphas.

Omegas are the “lower” gender - though according to Solomon, the idea that one is lower to the other is being more and more fought againts and discussed in the realms - they’re conflict solvers and are seem as sweeter and more fragile. They experince heats and self lubricate. Most of the common demons are omegas.

Betas are a middle ground. They don’t have scents as strong as alphas or omegas, and aren’t easily affected by ruts or heats. They can still mate, however, and are often seem as level-headed and good right hands for alpha leaders. They’re rare. Barbatos is one of them.

And then there’s the Apex, the “alpha of alphas” as Asmodeus described them. An alpha so powerful he stands above all others, in the top of the “food chain.” That’s the category that fits Diavolo.

“So… what are you then, Asmo?” You ask, folding your arms above the book Solomon had highlighted to you.

Asmodeus perks up, bright as ever. “I’m an alpha, of course! Can’t you tell?” He gestures to himself, manicured nails gleaming under the bad lighting. 

“What about you?” You turn to Solomon. He hadn’t mentioned anything about humans having sub genders, but you kinda wish that was possible, although you couldn’t tell why.

Asmodeus pulls Solomon closer by the arm and beams. “He’s my omega!”

Solomon shrugs him off with a low chuckle. “Don’t make me slap you.”

“Kinky,” Asmodeus points a finger to him, smiling wide. He pulls Solomon again, by the shoulders, and lowers his turtleneck, revealing a bite. “I didn’t lie, though.” 

Solomon pushes him off with a scowl, covering the mark with his hand. “Yeah, yeah.” He waves Asmodeus off, adjusting the clothing.

You chuckle at them but say nothing. It’s clear Solomon doesn’t want you to.

Asmodeus pays his scowl no mind, resting his head on Solomon’s neck. Solomon sighs. “I’m not anything. Humans don’t have sub genders. We didn’t evolve to them, so we end up in somewhat of a grayscale. The closest thing to us would be betas.”

“Then we… claiming and that stuff… we can’t do it?” Your eyes trail to Solomon’s neck, but the bite is covered. 

“Not really,” he sighs, “this was an exception.”

“And why’s that?” Asmodeus hums, leaning over Solomon. Their faces are almost touching. 

Solomon sighs again, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Because I’m a demon’s whore.”

Asmodeus smiles, so much that little dimples show up at the corners of his lips, and he claps. “I love you so much.” 

You roll your eyes, making a vomiting sound when they kiss. Lowering your gaze, you read over the title of one of the chapters. 

“Hey,” you look up again, catching their attention, “what about your brothers? Mammon has a different scent, is he an omega?”

Asmodeus splutters, looking exaggeratedly shocked. He chuckles, strained. “Of course not!” He waves hands in front of himself, almost hitting Solomon in the face, “We’re all alphas.”

“Oh,” you say. It doesn’t make sense. None of the others have a scent like Mammon’s. It’s a little sweet, but seems clouded, slightly sour in the corners. 

“I don’t get it,” Asmodeus muses, tapping a finger to his chin, “humans don’t really feel our scent, how can he be different?”

His gaze is closed off on you, analyzing a little too much. It makes you feel like an ant under a magnifying glass, “I uh… he just does.” 

Solomon stares at you but doesn’t comment on it, even if it looks like he wants to. 

Asmodeus hums in thought, gaze still sharp on your every movement. Then, he smiles, almost artificial in its wake, “Well, whatever!” He slaps a hand to the table. At this point, the librarian gave up on shushing you.

Solomon is still staring at you. You move a little. Being watched like this makes you feel kind of squeamish.

Asmodeus is staring at Solomon, and then at you, resting his head on a palm. He hums again, stretching his arms over his head, and then he’s up, pulling Solomon with him. “We should get going!I wonder who’s on dinner duty.”

You blink. Dinner was still far away. Your study session just got cut short, and while you have no idea why, it feels like it’s your fault.

As you close the book and gather your things alongside them, the word seems to call you again. “Being an omega sounds painful, though,” you close the book, “heats and all.” 

Solomon scoffs. He closes his notebook, sliding his bag over a shoulder. “That makes it more fun.”

Asmodeus tsks, waving Solomon off, “Don’t listen to him he doesn’t have a soul.” 

Solomon neither confirms nor denies this statement, instead only giving you an amused chuckle and a tilt of the head. 

The feeling that you did something wrong, crossed a barrier you weren’t supposed to, clings to you. But still, it makes no sense. 

There’s something different about Mammon. You have to figure out why. 

-

The first thing you notice is that you’re missing a pillow. You’re back from a week filled with classes, ready to drop in bed and sleep the entire weekend when you realize something seems off. You look everywhere, but the pillow is nowhere to be found. 

Then, a couple of days later, the thin blanket you keep for movie nights and long study sessions is gone. 

It progresses like that. The throw you use to warm your feet. Your favorite stuffed animal. A fluffy winter jacket. 

When you ask, fed up with this little prank, none of the brothers seem to know where your things went. 

Your pact with Mammon is still somewhat fresh, but you find yourself going to him, if not for a solution, maybe to complain. 

The door is open when you arrive, pushing it inside without ceremony. 

“Mammon, you’re not going to believe-” 

The words die on your throat. There, spread on top of his bed, twisted and fluffed together into a carefully crafted bundle - no, your mind provides, a nest. This is a nest - are all your missing items, and, sitting on top of them with a flushed face and big eyes, is Mammon. 

Oh. 

Turns out you were right. 

“MC, I, I…” Mammon fumbles upwards, all but stumbling in the mess of blankets and pillows he has apparently snatched not only from you but from his brothers as well. There are even some pillows you don’t recognize, cow patterns all over them. 

“Mammon…” it’s all you can say. You have never dealt with this before, but the answer to your question was clear as day, right in front of you. 

Omegas nest when stressed or needy. Came Solomon’s voice, a memory from the lecture just a week before. 

“You’re an omega.” You say, in a surprised whisper, cogs turning on your mind and finally fitting with each other. 

Mammon’s face falls and his breath hitches. “How do you know about that?”

“In class… we went over the basic biology of demons and…”

He gulps audibly, eyes darting to the floor. “Then you know.”

You can almost feel the question marks forming around your head. “Know what?”

“How disgusting this is,” he gestures to the nest. His face is still reddened, voice bordering on wet, “I took your things without telling and I… I used them, my scent is all over them and now… I’m sorry, MC.”

“Mammon…” you reach towards him, but he steps back.

“You probably want them back, right?” He chuckles dryly with no real humor. “It’s okay, I get it. People don’t like when omegas get all needy, I know that.” He scratches at the back of his neck, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes tugging at his lips. “You can take them, I’ll just…” he points to the door, “yeah.”

And then he’s gone, leaving behind the same smell you came to associate with him, only much sour in its wake. Your pact mark burns, glowing a faint yellow tone. You stand next to his bed, confused and feeling like you managed to fuck up even more.

Masterlist

[poetrusicperry]

Running Towards Nothing

Chapter Two

chapter one

a/n: i’ve had this finished for a while, but i started college back up again this week and was waiting for a break to post it hehe... i hope you guys like it !! p.s. don’t forget todd is from the american south in this hehe

chapter summary: todd gets “acquainted” with neil, suffers through the first week of classes, and misses his older brother a lot

warnings: a bit of angst ?

word count: 1929

–

       Upon arriving into his room, Todd plunked his suitcase down on his bed and flipped the latches open. The other side of the room was presently empty, so he figured Neil hadn’t made his way there yet. It was a bit sad seeing all the parents helping their kids move into their rooms for the year. Todd’s mother and father had left almost directly after the ceremony, leaving Todd to struggle up three flights of stairs while lugging a heavy suitcase. The hallway was bustling; loads of voices, opening and shutting of doors, footsteps, and knocks could be heard through the thin walls of Welton. Todd had shut the door to try to ease some of the disquiet, but it didn’t make much of a difference. As he adjusted the time on his clock to mirror that of his watch, the door opened with slight struggle. He turned toward the direction of the doorway and saw Neil pushing the door open ever so slightly with his hands full of a suitcase and a typewriter. Behind him stood a tall, broad man (who Todd could only assume was his father). He didn’t look like Neil, but there was something in their faces that just made Todd believe they were related. Todd rushed to the door and pulled it open more for Neil, holding the handle apprehensively as the boy and his father walked into the room.

       “Oh, thanks. Father, this is Todd Anderson, my roommate,” Neil set the typewriter gently on his desk and leaned the suitcase on the leg of his bed before wiping his hands on his pants and gesturing to Todd. Neil’s father set down the small duffel bag he was carrying onto Neil’s bed and held his hand out to Todd.

       “I’m Neil’s father, Tom Perry. Pleasure to meet you,” Todd took his hand hesitantly, shaking it slowly.

       “You, too, sir,” his accent slipped toward the end of his sentiment.

       “Where ya from, son?” his eyebrows slightly knit in a non-threatening way.

       “Um… Arizona, sir,” even Todd was surprised at the information, considering it was a big, fat lie. He didn’t even know why he lied, it just came out.

       “Ah, out west. Lovely place, Arizona–”

       “Father,” Neil interrupted, his adolescence giving way to the fact that he felt his father was embarrassing him by being too forward with someone he barely knew.

       “Oh, right, I should probably get going,” he laughed, clapping a hand onto Neil’s shoulder, “Hard work this semester, Son, especially with all those extracurriculars. I want to see those As!” he smiled, earning a grin in return from Neil.

       “Yes, sir,” Neil blushed slightly.

       “And you let me or your mother know if you need anything, anything at all,” he finished, releasing Neil’s shoulder from his grasp.

       Neil nodded, “Yes, Father. Thanks for helping me take my stuff up,”

       “Goodbye, Neil,” his father gave the boy a final nod, then turned to Todd, “Nice to meet you, Todd. Good luck this term,” Todd acknowledged him silently and Neil’s father exited the room, shutting the door behind him. Walking back over to his open suitcase, Todd pulled out a couple shirts and let them drop, still folded, onto the bare mattress; a set of sheets and a comforter were folded up at the head of his bed underneath a pillow.

       “Your parents grabbing the rest of your stuff from the car?” Neil inquired, absentmindedly unzipping his suitcase.

       “Oh… Uh, no, they left after the ceremony,” Todd shrugged, his back turned to Neil. There was a weighted silence for a few seconds; Neil was probably trying to figure out why Todd’s parents would just leave him to his own devices on a day as important as today.

       “So why’d you leave your old school? What brings you to Welton?” Neil wondered aloud. Todd could tell that Neil was facing him, and he felt rude not turning around, but for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to.

       “Uh, my dad’s job. Relocated,” Todd added onto the Arizona lie, careful to reign in his accent yet again.

       “Cool. What’s Arizona like? I’ve never left the east coast before,” Neil pressed with a faint laugh. God, this kid didn’t shut up, did he?

       “It’s fine. Hot,” Todd shrugged, walking over to his desk and setting his notebooks onto the surface. Neil laughed a little more,

       “You’re not much of a talker, are you, Anderson?”

       “That a bad thing?” Todd shot back, anxiety rattling his bones.

       “No, just commenting,” even though Todd wasn’t facing him, he could hear that Neil was smiling. Todd didn’t respond, just continued to unpack, and before he knew it, he was shoving his empty suitcase underneath his bed.

       Neil had somehow finished unpacking pretty quickly and had left the room to go hang out with his friends (Todd had gotten a glimpse of them when Neil had opened the door. Turns out that it was the group from outside the arcade). As if this couldn’t get any harder for Todd, of course he was rooming with the most popular kid in school; the one with an established, close-knit friend group and a star-studded, intimidating reputation to uphold.

       The first week of classes had crawled by, Todd speaking only when spoken to, and avoiding confrontation at any other chance he got. Mostly, he holed himself up in his and Neil’s room, pouring over books and anything else that could keep him occupied from his thoughts and his roommate. Neil had tried, on more than one occasion, to get Todd to hang out or open up, but it just wasn’t something Todd felt… right doing. There was something about campus that made Todd uneasy; the expectations and assignments, they all made his head hurt. Todd wasn’t stupid by a long shot, he just wasn’t used to the rigor that came along with private school.

       On a particularly windy evening in early September, Todd was taking a phone call from Jeffrey in the dorm hallway. He was conscious that other people wanted, and probably needed, to use the phone, but it was the first time he’d spoken to his brother since Jeff left for school.

       “So how are things over there? Are you liking it?” Jeff’s voice warbled slightly through the phone.

       “I don’t really know, Jeff… it’s lonely here. I don’t like it much,” Todd shrugged even though his brother couldn’t see him.

       “Well why don’t you like it? Classes too hard?”

       “I don’t know,”

       “Yes you do, Todd,” Jeff’s firm tone brought Todd back to reality a bit.

       “I just… I want to go home,”

       “So tell Mom and Dad–”

       “No, I mean… home home,” Todd sighed. Jeff was quiet for a while, “Jeff?”

       “I’m here, bud… I know you want to go home, but I just… we left for good reason. And it’s not your fault. You know that–”

       “It is my fault. Mom and Dad said so,” Todd mumbled, twisting the telephone cord between his fingers. He was talking pretty quietly so none of the other kids waiting could hear him.

      “No, it’s not your fault. It’s just a rough situation, Todd. Please know that I’m on your side, okay? And please don’t give up on this new school… Maybe try to make some friends? Is your roommate nice at least?”

       “Yeah, I guess. He talks a lot. Asks a lot of questions,” Todd sighed again.

       “So talk to him. Roommates can be like a built in friend,”

       “Do you like yours?”

       “Yeah, he’s cool,” Jeff smiled, “You should just give people a chance, Todd. They’re not all bad,”

       “I know,” the silence that followed was comfortable.

       “Well, hey, listen I have to go, but call me if you need anything. Anything at all, you hear me?” Jeff cleared his throat.

       “You sound tired, Jeff,” Todd commented

       “So do you, pal,” his smirk was audible through the phone.

       “Get some sleep, okay?” Todd blinked hard.

       “You, too. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

       “Okay… bye,” Todd was about to hang the receiver up.

       “Todd–”

       “Yeah?

       “I miss you, man,”  Todd paused at his brother’s sentiment.  

       “M-miss you, too,” Todd said quietly.

       “Okay, bye,”

       “Night,” Todd said, placing the receiver back onto the cradle. He got up and trudged back to his room, trying to ignore the dirty looks being thrown his way for using the phone for longer than ten minutes.

       In the dark of the room, Todd laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling unblinking. He stared so hard he began to see little specks of white invading his vision. Stars, Todd thought to himself. Just as he began to drift to a more peaceful place, the door shot open, the light flicking on.

       “Oh, shit,” Neil said, turning the lights back off, “Sorry, Todd… Are you awake?”

       “Am now,” he mumbled, turning onto his side and away from Neil.

       “Sorry…”

       “S’okay,” Todd shrugged, pulling his covers up. There was some shuffling, and Todd closed his eyes, hearing Jeff’s words shift around in his head, “You should just give people a chance, Todd.”

        He turned over suddenly to ask Neil a question, but stopped mid-inhalation when he saw a ¾-naked Neil standing in front of his dresser, changing into his pajamas.

       “Oh... Fuck,” Todd averted his eyes back to the ceiling. Neil looked over at him, seemingly unfazed. Todd’s heart began to beat faster and he gripped his sheets under the covers.

       “You okay?” Neil asked, pulling on a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants.

       “Yeah, fine,” Todd cleared his throat and rubbed his chest with his other hand slowly in an attempt to calm his breathing. Todd shook his head to himself, willing away the impure thoughts circulating his brain, “Uh, where do you always go at night?” he asked.

       “Out with friends,” Neil smiled, throwing a plain white t-shirt over his head. 

       “But I thought we’re not allowed to leave campus,” Todd finally looked back at him.

       “Exactly,” Neil smirked, pushing his glasses up with his middle finger.

        “Oh,” Todd looked away again. Why was this kid so attractive? And mysterious, “Okay,” he pulled his covers up and tried his best to repress the funny feeling in his stomach. Neil didn’t say anything back just yet, he simply shut his bedside lamp off and clambered into bed.

       “How come you don’t talk to anyone?” Neil asked when they’d been laying in silence for a while.

       “I dunno,” Todd answered, his voice drowned in exhaustion.

       “Well… you’re pretty much the out-of-state enigma,” Neil laughed at his quick-witted comment, “I’m surprised Nolan hasn’t plastered your face all over the school fliers yet,”

       “I don’t have much to say, and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter anyway,” Todd shrugged, letting his heavy eyes get the best of him. If he bound himself tightly enough under the confines of silence, he didn’t have to know anyone or make the same mistakes he made back in Alabama. When Neil didn’t respond, Todd sighed, “Night,” he said, putting the conversation to bed without dinner.

      “Oh… okay. Goodnight, Todd,” Neil said quietly.

       The breeze outside was the only sound Todd focused on in a desperate attempt to ignore the deep, even breathing of a fast asleep Neil. Todd’s head began to swim in the unfortunate instances of the past few months. How could he have been so stupid? Before he knew it, he was out of bed and pacing the grounds outside, ultimately finding himself sitting on a bench in tears, and wishing he was curled up in his bedroom in Alabama.

tagging some people again: @queertoddanderson @babytoddanderson @cupiiid @justarandompjofan@charliedaltonofficial @pretentious-strikes @caffeineconstellations @wellredacademic @aedan-mills

and as always, thank you to @noelliza for being my peer editor <3(: