#shall we fall in love

[lyselkatzfandomluvs]

Liú HâiKuan 劉海寬

Wb update 2024.02.14

Another piece he composed, Kingdom.

KuanKuan also shared the music score in the comments!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

...Turns out gay sex actually was the solution.

(This is basically a redraw, come read the real deal over at Tiger Tiger)

[forzathunder]

"I have many fears, most of them about Lucrezia." — Cesare Borgia (The Borgias, 2011-2013) + hints of insecurity

that she adores someone that much / if she will reject his dark nature and act of love and violence as Ursula did / if he truly is not part of her desires / that she easily forgets him

[taiga-pine]

heyyyy hawks likers (gradient version and closeups under the keepreading!)

[cookiesandbiscuits]

Now Playing: Falling in Love

[Leviathan - Maybe, Just Maybe]

Pairing: Leviathan x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Who would've thought Leviathan will find such connection with someone one day? Certainly not him.

A/N: Mmmmm the third installment is here!! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Ngl, I kinda struggled writing this despite considering myself a Levi kinnie 😭

Special mentions to my moots who likes Levi, @cloudcountry, @officialdaydreamer00 and @amberheavendremurr. I hope you guys like this :D

Now Playing: Falling in Love playlist

MASTERLIST

"I'm afraid of the things in my brain,

But we can stay here and laugh away the fears."

Levi finds you odd.

Sure, you were strange for a human, but what he's weirded out the most was the fact that you've been hanging out with him a lot.

Not that it's a bad thing. In fact, he now surprisingly enjoys your presence compared to when you two first met.

He just finds it odd that out of the seven demons you were living with, you chose to stick with him. After all, he's not as cool as Lucifer, as charismatic as Asmo, as smart as Satan and Belphie, or as friendly as Beel. Heck, even Mammon has more social charm than he is, despite being a scumbag.

So why in the three worlds are you here, choosing him, instead of them?

Maybe you just find a weird otaku like him fascinating?

Yes, that's probably it, the voice in his head says. It's just a one-time fixation and your attention will soon divert to something else once you've scratched your curiosity.

.

.

.

"What?"

You gave him a confused look, the video game you were playing completely forgotten. He absent-mindedly asked the question while the two of you were in the middle of gaming.

"I- uh..."

He already asked, so he might as well...

"I-I'm just curious... I'm not as interesting as my brothers, and my interests can be hard to understand sometimes, so... why do you hang out with me so much?"

Silence filled the space between you, and every second of it filled him with dread.

"Levi."

Your soft voice broke the tense quietness.

"Y-yes?"

"Look at me... please?"

It took a while before he turned to look at you, although he still struggled to look you in the eyes.

"Levi, I don't think you're uninteresting compared to your brothers. In fact, you're far from it."

You reached out to take his hand, but not before looking back to him. When he didn't move, you took it as a sign and placed your hand on top of his. You continued.

"You are the most creative and passionate person I have ever met in my life. Sure, I may not understand the things that you're into sometimes, but I love hearing you talk about them. Because that means I get to know you more, even if just a little bit."

"...Y-you're just saying that to be nice, aren't you?"

Please, don't get my hopes up any longer if you don't really mean it.

You shook your head.

"Levi, I meant everything I said. So please believe me when I say that you are just as wonderful as your brothers. And even though you don't, I will be here to tell you how amazing you are," you say, gently squeezing his hand.

Finally, he took the courage to look you in the eyes, searching for any hints of insincerity. There were none.

And as he continued to stare, a new voice in his mind spoke.

Maybe, just maybe... he could believe you, even if just a little bit.

[atlasblue85]

ok i haven't made a person post in 5000 years but im losing my mind thinking about this and i can't contain it and i haven't seen anyone else talking about it

in the most recent episode when Armand and Louis are talking in Louis's apartment and Louis gets frustrated about only being able to make fire when he's angry, Armand tells him "I try and find the vulnerability within the object" and like that's just it, isn't it? that's his whole fucking character right there in one kind of throw away line.

And if you take that and apply it to his observation from earlier in the season, "that boy we met in San Francisco, he's still in there and we can find him" like!!!!! it's the same fucking picture your honor

All Armand does is look for the vulnerability and exploit it. He's had the thoughts of changing the coven but he could never say them himself so he lets Lestat come in and do it. "You brought him there so he could destroy it." Armand never gets his hands dirty, he just finds the vulnerability and exploits it by letting something else do the dirty work for him whether it be Lestat or Louis or fire. When the coven goes on the hunt he finds this party full of wealthy people living in luxury while the majority of the country is in post war poverty and he uses that to justify them being killed but also exploits the sentiments of the coven, knowing they'll do the work for him. He doesn't even go inside, barely even glances as they destroy the place.

But ALSO in this scene, he and Louis smoke their cigarettes outside and they both use lighters to light them. Armand isn't showing his full hand yet, he's drawn to Louis but doesn't fully trust him. He doesn't show him that until later, when he's more sure Louis feels the same about him. I think there's another scene then when Louis uses a lighter but Armand doesn't.

Then later we see that scene with Louis struggling with the candle and he says the thing about only being able to do it when he's angry, and then we only see him do it when he's angry. There he's angry because Lestat is invading again, but also angry that he's still being pressured about the coven. When he sets his pictures on fire he's angry about the rejection from the art dealer and then angry at Claudia.

Then there's the final scene on the bench in the rain. He's just allowed Lestat to disappear as Armand approaches, after telling Lestat he's going to break things off with Armand. Maybe it's a lie just for Lestat but I think there's at least some truth to it, some part of him that's going to, but then Armand starts confiding in him, and he realizes he has him completely.

"I used to be real good at running things" followed immediately by "I'm a little wet" he doesn't even ask Armand to put up the umbrella Armand just does it because he told Louis about his past and now Louis has found his vulnerable point and knows how to use it. So then he hands Armand a cigarette and Armand tells him he wants him and Louis calls him Arun and Armans calls him Maitre. He knows it's over now, he's not angry he's in complete and total control so he lights Armand's cigarette first and then his own, and then throws his lighter away.

THAT is the moment so far, to me, where Louis comes into his own as a vampire. Here's this 500 year old master manipulator and Louis has him wrapped around his finger. Find the vulnerability within the fucking object. God.

[miraneko19]

Realized this while playing Birushana. Tomomori. You know.

[beatcroc]

Mecha-Sonic, Dr. Robotnik has created other robots based on Sonic and thrown them away before he created you. Do you have any thoughts on this?

[filthy-mudeoki]

This moment still sends me screaming 🥵🥵🥺🥺

Chen Zhe Yuan and Zhao Lusi - Hidden Love 2023

Tagging @kairadiamond because this moment here is EVERYTHING

[onyourowndaisymae]

when he falls in love with you - masterlist

SYNOPSIS

love is a wonderous thing. it spares no one, consumes saints and sinners alike in its maw until they are born anew in its image. it's warm cheeks and trembling fingers as much as it is life-altering realizations and choked confessions. it's joyous laughter and hoarse apologies in the same breath, both sides of a double-edged sword. when it sweeps through the devildom, the blade spares no expense: no one can outrun love, no matter how hard they try.

content + warnings: obey me love interests x reader, sfw, with themes of fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, and other tropes/genres depending on the post. all posts will be tagged with content and warnings at the beginning for the reader's convenience.

DEMON BROTHERS

lucifer - [some nights are worse than others]

mammon - [the damsel in distress]

leviathan - [a wandering tail and a fondness for the little things]

satan - [exchanging letters feels so romantic]

asmodeus - coming soon

beelzebub - coming soon

belphegor - [under a sky of (fake) stars]

DATEABLES

diavolo - coming soon

barbatos - coming soon

simeon - coming soon

solomon - [crashing a pity party for one]

mini-playlist for inspo:

you are in love - taylor swift // enchanted - taylor swift // daylight - taylor swift // leonard cohen - boygenius // jackie and wilson - hozier // slow burn - kacey musgraves // sweet creature - harry styles // golden - harry styles

[autisticlancemcclain]

part one

———

Keith can feel it bubbling up inside him.

He’d like to think he’s grown to have a handle on it, the rage. It’s no longer his first reaction to things, no longer his response to everything. He’s not the little kid who trusted no one and hated himself for things that weren’t his fault anymore. He’s grown. He’s learnt to recognise how rarely he truly feels anger; how often it is pain, or sadness, or fear that he doesn’t know how to handle.

He knows this feeling is terror. He knows he is looking out into the endless, endless sea and quavering, in his mind, rendered mute at the future he may have, or lack thereof. What he is feeling is fear, at the roots of things.

But anger is all that’s bubbling up, anyway.

“Are you fucking serious!” he shouts, rattling the boat with the force of his rage. “You got us lost?!”

Luckily, or maybe unluckily considering their situation, Lance has never been the cowering type. He’s just as stubborn and headstrong as Keith, evident in the way he carefully sets down the useless GPS, jaw set, and turns to face Keith.

“I was not the only fool to inebriate myself in a largely unmanned vessel,” he shoots back. He’s doing that thing he does, when he’s furious, when he’s convinced he’d backed into a corner and on his own, where he speaks like a fucking decorated college professor so no one can accuse him of being stupid. ‘Lawyering up’, Keith has always called it. And usually it makes him sad on Lance’s behalf, knowing exactly the string of experience that has led him to that response, but right now it only pisses him off.

“Oh, cut the fucking bullshit, Lance. You were supposed to put down a fucking anchor!”

“I did!”

“Fucking obviously not!”

Lance’s fists clench, and a muscle jumps in his cheek from the tenseness of his jaw. His next words are growled, practically spat in Keith’s direction.

“I put a fucking anchor down, Kogane. It was the first thing I accomplished. It was a current anchor, and I’m certain I set it properly.”

Keith yells, wordless, just a loud shout so he doesn’t explode with everything inside him, gripping his hands in his hair so tightly it hurts. “Well, obviously fucking not, Lance, because I’m at fucking sea right now! Surrounded at all sides by fucking water!”

“How is it my fault that the anchor failed?” Lance shouts, finally cracking his careful composure. It satisfies Keith in a horrible kind of way, to see him just as frantic and furious as Keith is, no bullshit. “Huh? Want me to fucking take it up with the fuckers at the hardware store?”

“I’d love that, except you can’t, because you fucking got us lost!”

Something snaps in Lance’s expression, and he lunges forward, but before Keith can react, he brushes past him and dives overboard, crashing into the gentle waves. It takes Keith several seconds to fully register what the fuck just happened, and by the time he drops to his knees and leans over the side of the boat, Lance is several feet away and rapidly swimming farther.

“Lance!” he shouts, panic replacing the anger in his voice. The only thing worse than being stranded is being stranded by himself. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Lance pauses, treading water as he glances over his shoulder in Keith’s direction. “Avoiding doing something I regret, ” he says shortly. “I either shoved you or jumped myself. One of those is a significantly less shitty decision.”

Keith stares at him for a moment, then pinches the bridge of his nose, taking several seconds to exhale as long and loud and exasperated as he can. He’s almost annoyed to find a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Lance,” he says, pursing his lips, “get the fuck back here, you pillar of dumbass.”

For several minutes Lance doesn’t, likely just to out-stubborn him, but eventually gives in and paddles over. He pauses at the edge of the boat, reaching up one hand to steady himself and letting the rest of him just float.

“I’m not going to yell anymore,” Keith says after several moments. He means it, too; he knew yelling and fighting wouldn’t solve anything but chose his fury over his fondness for Lance, and he wishes he hadn’t.

Lance shakes his head before he can finish. “Nah, I think a little yelling was necessary. I did get us lost. Well, kind of. Fifty-fifty, I think.”

“Fifty-fifty?!” Keith responds indignantly. “I think the fuck not, Oh Captain My Caption! Eighty-twenty at best!”

“That’s absurd. Fifty one-forty nine.”

“That’s not a real offer, jackass. You just brought yourself back up to ninety-ten.”

Lance flicks a drop of water at him, grinning. “Sixty-forty?”

Keith sighs. “I’ll take it.” He holds out a hand. “Come up, dorkbrain.”

Lance grabs his hand, smile widening. Keith realises his mistake a milisecond too late.

“Oh, you motherfucker —”

Lance yanks him into the sea, cackling as he sputters sea water on his way back up. His cackles turn quickly to shouts of alarms, though, when he reads the murder in Keith’s expression, and quickly he books it, swimming as fast as he can to the opposite side of the boat. Keith chases him with full intent to drag him under and drown his bitch ass, but unfortunately Lance grew up with a fuckin’ mermaid tail, or whatever, and Keith has to call it when he genuinely starts to worry he might drown from exhaustion.

He grabs the rope on the side of the boat, heaving himself up until his elbows hook over the edge, legs dangling in the water. Lance mirrors him, still on the opposite end. Keith is gratified at least to find him panting, out of breath as well. The look at each other, and reach a wordless agreement, climbing back onto the boat and flopping on the floor. The take a minute, chests heaving, to catch their breaths, sobering as they look up at the cloudless sky and truly realize the predicament they’ve gotten themselves into.

“Well, it could be worse,” Lance says quietly. He continues before Keith can ask him how the fuck that could be. “I mean, I planned for this to happen. Not, like, I planned for it to actually happen to us, but I packed a bunch of emergency supplies on the off-chance that we would somehow get stranded.”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? For how long?”

“Well, long as shit, I would suppose. I packed enough for six people to last a month.”

“So the two of us are set for God knows how long.”

They lapse into silence, both pondering the seriousness of their strandedness, the reality of the helpless situation they’re in. They have food and water, sure, and a few other survival things, but what about shelter? Something that’s not a hard boat to sleep on, or old pillows? What about when it gets cold at night, or it rains, or they run into something bigger than their boat? They’re totally lost, communications dashed, GPS unavailable, and honestly still a little hungover. They are, objectively, in for a fuckin’ rough one.

A hand reaches over and wraps around Keith’s, startling him from his thoughts. He looks over at Lance, but Lance looks pointedly away, gaze fixed firmly at the sky, something unreadable written on his face.

“You know, not that it fixes anything,” he starts quietly. He hesitates a moment, long enough that Keith opens his mouth to ask him to finish his sentence, before continuing. “But I’m grateful, at least, that it’s you I’m stuck with.”

His words hang in the air, a heavy blanket settling over them. Keith’s face heats. The tiniest of smiles pulls at his lips, and he squeezes Lance’s hand as he looks away.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “yeah, I lucked out there.”

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 18 - Discomforted

The rogue is left to his thoughts.

On AO3.

He doesn’t hear her for the rest of the day. For half of the following. He wakes from his reverie and his arms work again. So he sits up as the kuo-toa enter with baskets of more fish. He shudders as he drains them. All darkness and cold and soggy detritus to gobble down, with those. No joy. Barely any spark of life. It’s disgusting.

But still better than a putrid, mushy rat.

When he does catch the sound of far off voices, he realizes she’s forsaken the potion of tongues. She only has another few, he thinks. Likely saving them.

That’s fine. They’ve little to discuss as it is.

She knows. She saw (rather felt) what he did, and came back. Like a fool. Like he was worth all that. And he isn’t providing her a single service. A few Chondathan lessons? Bah. Not that much of an investment. She should have carried on without him. It’s what he would have done. What he thought she was sensible enough to realize.

Or perhaps it’s only his plan succeeding? He needs someone willing to aid him. Shield him. Feed—

And he hasn’t had to sleep with her! He should be thrilled. To have hooked her devotion so easily. It’s a fine bargain, for him.

But he can’t. Because what she’s given him isn’t cheap, and that’s a problem. No one gives things away. Never once in his last two hundred years has he ever…won something. Not like this. And not without paying for it, and paying dearly.

He traces the raised line over his ribs, up over his chest. A steady diet of slimy fish blood should smooth that right off in another day or two, leaving him fresh and unmarred and beautiful. As all his other injuries have done.

Save for two.

His fingers brush up his neck. The punctures there. They feel large. Always have. Two pits in his neck, the edges rough and ragged (he knows he doesn’t leave such marks on his foolish leader; even then, at the beginning, that bastard had wanted to mark him).

But his targets never seem to notice them (at least, not unless that bastard invites them to Astarion knowing what he is, offering them the thrill of bedding a stunning, tamed vampire). He wears high collars, usually lurks in dim corners, goes after those whose wits are already slipping. But he rarely, so very rarely gets to keep those high collars in place. And they never say anything. Not about those marks. Not about his eyes. His pallor. His grave-chilled skin.

Too busy grabbing. Too busy taking. That’s the only explanation he’s ever been able to come up with.

And the other scars…

He can just manage to twist an aching arm around so his fingertips find the lowest lines. That bastard marks what’s his. Usually, his “gift” wipes all traces of previous such attentions, even on Astarion’s paltry diet. Not this one. He’d wanted this one to stay. A whole night’s work, so many revisions. He wanted that poem etched into Astarion’s flesh for all eternity. It had burned terribly when that bastard rubbed the oozing carvings with whatever godsforsaken salt concoction. Packed the tears in Astarion’s skin full, so vampiric healing or no, his body had no choice (never a choice, not in anything) but to lift up into ugly scar tissue.

Astarion will never be rid of it. Just as he’ll never be rid of that bastard—

No. No.

He reflexively shoves that down. Reaches around himself for something else to touch. Warped planks of wood. Scraps of cloth reeking of fish. The cold, metallic scent of aquatic blood.

He’s not in the kennels. Not even in the dorms. Not in that wretched palace and not even in the city. He’s in the Underdark, being nursed by fish pledged to his naive leader and he’s going to milk that for everything it’s worth.

“Hello, you out there!” he says. “I’d like more blood!”

It’s vile, but it’s something.

***

He lays about for another two days. He thinks it’s two days, anyway, judging from his leader’s sleep. She’s rigged up some kind of curtain and shelters in with him while she does that—after turning away most of the kuo-toa and their gracious gifts. The only thing she takes is the fish he’s emptied, and some kind of dried seaweed he can set on fire for her.

It smells atrocious as it burns. And she makes a concession to open the curtain while she does it. But she figures out how to clean and cook the fish, and the noise she makes when she takes her first bite almost does something to him. Reminds him of the very first taste of her own blood hitting his tongue.

She barely speaks. Seems content to grunt and, presumably, gesture at her devoted subjects. She only has three potions left, that he knows of. What she does when she’s not hiding in here with him, he has no idea. Likely hiding elsewhere.

She’s kept up her Chondathan lessons, at least. She threw her ultimatum at him so rudely, and then pretends she did nothing of the sort. So he falls back to patterns he knows, and also pretends she did nothing of the sort. He never cut her loose to die, and she never found out about it and then…forgave him for it.

She’s infuriating. Absolutely infuriating. She doesn’t react to anything like a normal person, and he doesn’t even know if the entirety of her people are just like that, or if she’s the aberrant specimen. That would be his luck.

As his body repairs itself, he repairs his clothing. Which doesn’t take long. Loses time for a while—his usual past time. And then, as she sleeps on their second day, his fingers find cool metal in his pack.

That necklace. They must have taken it off him at some point before hoisting him onto that sacrificial slab. Here it rests, in his pack. So he takes it out.

The links slip through his fingers like water. Jewels cascade down the front, rather like drops of rain. He imagines it’s a pretty thing. He hopes it complements his complexion.

He doesn’t remember actually learning the firebolt cantrip. Has no memory of lessons in a garden or sitting beside a tutor in his children’s short pants.

This one carries a spell upon it. That, he can tell. Beyond that…? He might as well be fumbling about in the dark, without sight, in the vast, echoing Underdark.

He drops the necklace into his pack.

Eventually she wakes. Greets him in Chondathan. Heads out to do…whatever it is she does.

She just chose to come back. If Astarion weren’t always on the precipice of starvation, he would consider vomiting out of sheer disgust. One doesn’t just choose to overlook a wrong like that. He used to be a magistrate, by the hells. There must be a punishment. There has to be.

Yet she just, just…forfeited it. Let him leave her and not only didn’t cast him aside, but came searching for him and then murdered what he now suspects was a redcap to save him. The absolute audacity. She can’t simply do things like that. She can’t make those decisions. No one else would. No one else ever has.

Mistakes are punished. Corrected. A wrong can only be made right when the perpetrator pays for it (through gold or flesh). She’s insane, is what she is. Rattled in the skull. An idiot.

Yet the fish obey her as a god, and the tent flap lifts as their reek washes over him. In they trundle, finned feet slapping against old wood, to lay yet another basket of flapping, gasping, dying fish at his side.

…and he still tastes the ghost of her blood. Can still sense it, out there in the dark. He left her to rot and she still guided him and talked to him and accepted his gifts. She knew the entire time. And still slept in his tent and loaned her staff and entertained him with lurid stories. She helped him escape the, whatever in the hells a “birdshark” is, and whatever rules a quake abides by.

She gave him her blood. Knowing all the while.

He’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop. It must. It always does.

Yet…yet this one. This one doesn’t seem inclined to budge. And he has absolutely no idea what to do with that.

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[a-swiss-and-a-spaniard]

At this stage in your career, do you appreciate the rivalry more against Rafa?

[cookiesandbiscuits]

Now Playing: Falling in Love

[Mammon - Paper Rings]

Pairing: Mammon x GN!Reader Genre: Comfort/Fluff Summary: His partner in crime. His confidant. His best friend. His human. Even if he likes shiny things, you are the one thing he'll never trade for the world and he'll prove it. Even if it means he'll marry you with paper rings. A/N: The second installment of Now Playing: Falling in Love is here!! Took a while but it's here nonetheless. I'm finally finished with my school work so I can do all the things I've been planning to do (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) This time, I chose the song "Paper Rings" by Taylor Swift! The song's just screaming Mammon's name, don't you agree? And I also get the feeling Mammon will like listening to Taylor's songs ^^ Warning: Reader's family is pressuring reader and Mammon to get married (get slapped with toxic family culture 😬); not proofread, maybe a bit OOC but I kinda liked how this turned out so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ Now Playing: Falling in Love playlist MASTERLIST

"I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want

In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams

Oh, you're the one I want"

"So, when are you two getting married?"

That question almost made Mammon spit out the water from his mouth.

"Oh, uh..."

"Aunty!!" You gave your aunt an incredulous look. However the older woman only ignored you, too focused on squeezing the answer from Mammon.

"What's wrong with asking? There's nothing wrong in asking about your future plans. You both are in your prime years. If you don't get married, you'll lose the chance to build your own family! Look at your cousin Daniel–"

"Aunty!" You cut her off before she makes things more awkward. "Look, I know you're worried for us, but marriage... it's just not in our priority list yet. We will get married in the future but not right now."

Your last statement made Mammon blush a little. You want to get married to him in the future?

Suddenly, you stand up from your chair and grabbed his arm. "C'mon, Mammon. I think we're done here for the day."

Before he can speak, you started dragging him from his chair and out of your family house.

.

.

.

"Hey, you alright?" Mammon asked.

It's been a while since the two of you returned to your shared hotel room, but you haven't said a single word since then.

"I'm sorry."

The demon raised an eyebrow on your sudden words of apology. "What're you apologizin' for?"

"For my aunt's behavior earlier. She put you on the spot. That must've been uncomfortable for you."

Sighing, you continued.

"I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce you to my family during the reunion. I forgot why I stopped attending them in the first place."

Seeing you curl in on yourself made Mammon's heart ache.

"Hey... Why should you be the one apologizing on her behalf? Your aunt's the one who's in the wrong, not you."

It was your turn to be confused by his words. "...What?"

"I'm just sayin'. You shouldn't be the one who's sorry whenever your family made a mistake," Mammon says as he took your left hand comfortingly.

You blinked, left speechless by what he said.

Suddenly, he slipped a paper ring on your ring finger.

"Mammon??" You gaped when he did that.

"Don't tell me you forgot what you said earlier."

What you said...?

...

"We will get married in the future but not right now."

...

You blushed when you remembered what you said before storming out of your family house. You just promised you will marry Mammon in the future.

The demon chuckled as he kissed your finger where the paper ring is.

"You said you'll marry me when the time comes. So I hope you'll say yes when I manage to make this paper ring a real ring."

[stollenwurm-writes]

A new fic!

After a very busy year, I suddenly had some free time and this wrote itself on a whim. It’s rare for me to write something without planning first.

Kaleidoscopes hasn’t been abandoned, just been too busy. And didn’t want to stop myself from getting back into the flow when a sudden urge to write something else came along :)