#I did not know it existed in item form

[sapphire-rb]

OHGODS

I was i was i was trying to get any block into the tutorial in the demo (to place the tablet to force it to save or smth) and i went 'What's a random ID item for a block surely i know one lol' and typed in 2001 and I got bedrock on my toolbar so i was like 'eh, good enough' BUT

ITS THE YELLOW FRAME BLOCK

THIS IS DESTINY THE WORLD IS SMILING ON ME

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #45

Mine, Mine, MINE!

Imagine this….

I know Damian is raised in an environment where he is treated as a prince, the only grandson, the heir. Sure those privileges may come in the price of ripping his innocence and childhood away from a very young age. In the end he got everything he  ever wanted nor needed. A single word from him and all gather around to get what he needed.

But there will be a day where there is something you cannot get no matter your demands or commands.

….

By the time Damian could form full sentences, he had learned the art of taking. To demand was his birthright; to receive was merely the universe setting itself right. If another child had a toy, Damian wanted it. If a servant carried a blade of exceptional craftsmanship, it belonged in his collection. Even as a young boy, his chambers were overflowing with silken robes, masterfully forged weapons, and rare treasures pilfered from across the world.

His first words had been "Mine." He was greedy from the cradle, claiming everything within reach with an iron will and a clenched fist. As an infant, a single furrow of his brow or a half-formed cry summoned an entire team of wet nurses, attendants, and servants who scrambled to appease him, terrified of drawing the ire of the Demon’s heir. His crib was adorned with silk imported from lands that no longer existed, and gold-threaded blankets were replaced the moment they became even slightly soiled.

When he took his first steps, the world shifted to accommodate him. Marble floors were polished before his feet touched them, and his path was lined with offerings—daggers forged by masters, scrolls of ancient knowledge, carved figurines from forgotten civilizations. Every item he glanced at was quietly removed from its place and added to his collection, regardless of its original owner. He collected without remorse, hoarded without gratitude. His chambers grew into miniature treasure vaults, filled with relics and riches that served no purpose beyond feeding his insatiable desire to own.

Neither Talia nor Ra’s al Ghul discouraged his possessiveness. To them, it was simply a symptom of his lineage. The blood of conquerors and kings ran in his veins, and if he took, it was only because he was destined to. The League of Assassins reinforced this belief with every passing day. He was not taught humility or restraint—only power, precision, and domination. He was forged to rule, molded to believe that the world was his birthright.

But then there was Danyal.

His twin, born under the same stars, shaped from the same blood, yet utterly alien in his quiet nature. Danyal never demanded, never claimed, never expected. While Damian amassed trinkets and trophies with the entitlement of a young emperor, Danyal existed in the spaces left behind—content with simplicity, with little, with the unremarkable. When Damian snatched one of his brother’s few meager toys and added it to his already overflowing pile, Danyal gave no protest. He simply let it go, his eyes soft, his hands uncurled, his expression free of malice or resentment.

To Damian, this was a maddening contradiction. They were both of noble blood. They were descendants of kings, warriors, legends. Danyal should have yearned for greatness, fought for it. But instead, he bowed his head, stepped aside, and surrendered without a sound. Damian saw weakness. He saw foolishness.

When Danyal died on a mission gone wrong, Damian did not weep. His hands did not tremble, his eyes did not stray from the trail of blood that marked the last place his twin had stood. The League moved on without pause, the death barely a footnote in their endless ledger of sacrifice. There was no funeral pyre, no rites or remembrance. The corpse was retrieved, cataloged, and discarded like a failed weapon. Damian told himself it was fate, a destiny trimming the weak from their bloodline.

Danyal had never fought for more. He had never claimed what was owed to him. In Damian’s mind, that made him unworthy. A noble soul without the teeth to defend its title. A flickering candle smothered by the wind. And so Damian forced himself to move on. He trained harder, sharper, faster. He swallowed whatever little grief he has and reforged it into ambition.

At ten years old, when he was finally sent to Gotham, he carried himself like a young prince returning to his rightful throne. He arrived at his father’s doorstep cloaked in expectation, armored in superiority. His every step was deliberate, as if the very ground of Wayne Manor should bend to his will. He was the blood heir, the legacy reborn. Everything in the manor should have been his.

But instead of reverence, he was met with resistance.

When he challenged Drake—Timothy Drake, the imposter who had dared to stand at his father’s side—Damian expected combat, a duel to settle succession. He anticipated a fight that would end with his place solidified and his father's acknowledgment finally secured. But Drake refused. He did not raise a hand. He yielded with words instead of steel, and Damian, raised in a world where weakness was unforgivable, saw it as cowardice.

Worse still, Bruce his father had intervened. Not as a warrior stepping into the arena, but as a father—shielding the usurper. Protecting someone who had no claim, no birthright, no Ra’s al Ghul in his lineage, no biological connection that is burning in his veins. Damian had lashed out. Fury surged through him like fire through dry kindling. How could his father not see it? He was the true son. The legacy of both Bat and Demon ran through his blood.

But here, in this foreign house built on sentiment and ideals, that blood meant nothing.

His hours of grueling training, his flawless blade work, his mastery of languages, poisons, shadows, everything none of it mattered. In the League, every achievement was tallied like gold, every drop of noble blood a weapon to be honored and sharpened. In Gotham, he was just a child with a name. No better than the orphans his father had chosen. He was expected to earn his place not through heritage, but through heart.

And that was a battlefield Damian had never been taught to fight on.

…..

By fourteen, Damian had changed. The transformation had not come swiftly, nor easily. It had been carved into him over years of clashing ideologies, quiet lessons, and countless moments of silent observation. The boy who once barked orders, who demanded the world bend to his will, had been slowly, methodically unraveled.

Gone was the child who screamed, "Mine!" at every turn. In his place stood a young warrior with weary eyes and calloused hands, one who had tasted loss, rejection, and the sting of unearned entitlement.

He had learned, through long nights spent watching others from the shadows of Wayne Manor’s hallways, that love was not given by birthright but earned through sacrifice. He had watched Dick steady the weight of leadership with a smile, watched Tim endure with patience and quiet brilliance, watched Jason bleed and rage and come back again and again for the family that had once failed him. And he had watched Bruce—not the detective that his grandfather would say nor the beloved that his mother would whisper of bedtime legends, but a flawed, weary man who carried his family not with a sword but with open hands.

The League had taught him to take. His siblings had taught him to stay.

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” He had not heard the phrase spoken aloud, but he lived it in the moments that unfolded around him. He saw it in the way Alfred laid out tea for children who weren’t his. In the way Cass would wordlessly spar with him until exhaustion broke his fury. In the way Stephanie left notes on the fridge with dumb jokes just to make them laugh. These people—none of whom shared his blood—had chosen each other again and again.

And yet… in the quiet corners of his mind, sometimes, he still wished Danyal were here.

Danyal, who would have thrived in this strange and stubborn family. Danyal, whose softness would have been a strength here, not a flaw. Danyal, who had always looked at Damian not with envy or resentment, but with quiet love.

Damian had spent so long dismissing that gentleness as weakness, never realizing it had been a gift. Looking back now, he could see the missed moments—the times he could have shared instead of stolen, the times he could have listened instead of taken. His brother had not been lesser. He had simply been different. And Damian, in his arrogance, had mistaken compassion for cowardice.

Now, with Danyal long buried and the world colder for it, Damian carried the weight of that realization like a blade across the ribs—never fatal, but never forgotten.

…...

Then came the mission with the Flash. A time anomaly had rippled through the fabric of reality. Barry had worked tirelessly to fix the damage, racing through different timelines  until order was restored. But this time, though fixed, have a new aftermath. A vision stitched together from remnants of a path not taken.

The Justice League, ever analytical, treated it like a curious glitch in the multiversal code—a harmless projection of a possibility that never came to pass. They gathered to observe it as they would a peculiar ripple in a still pond, detached but intrigued. Damian had been pulled along by Jon, who bounced with his usual boundless energy, unaware of what the vision would show. Damian followed, armored in detachment, a practiced indifference in place.

But then he saw it.

The flickering image glowed before him like a memory he had never lived. There, seated around the long dining table in Wayne Manor, was a scene so mundane, so heartbreakingly normal, it rooted him in place. His father sat at the head of the table, a rare softness in his posture as he poured tea. Nightwing laughed mid-conversation, shoulders relaxed, while Tim rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. Jason leaned back with his feet on the table, earning a nudge from Cassandra. And at the center of it all, smiling as if he'd always belonged—was Danyal.

His twin. Whole. Alive.

Danyal passed the bread basket to Tim with a crooked grin, said something that made Alfred chuckle. He nudged Damian's double with his elbow, teasing him, effortlessly folded into the rhythm of a family Damian had once believed unreachable. It was a life that had never happened, a universe where Danyal had lived—not just lived, but thrived.

Damian’s breath caught in his throat. His chest rose and fell once, twice, the motion sharp and sudden. His fingers, usually so still, twitched at his sides, as if the rest of him hadn’t caught up with the emotion rising within. Before he could wrest control back from his heart, his hand extended—reaching, aching, needing.

And the word tore from him before thought could stop it.

"Mine."

It escaped in a whisper but echoed like a roar in his ears. Not the scream of a spoiled prince demanding treasure, but the broken, silent cry of a boy mourning what he had never known he needed. It was not greed that moved him, not anymore. It was grief. Regret. A raw, unfiltered longing for the life that had slipped through his fingers before he had ever realized he wanted it.

Around him, the room shifted. Justice League members who moments ago stood in detached curiosity now exchanged curious glances, as they saw the projection and Robin’s reaction to a projection that is just showing a what-if scenario.

The projection flickered. Danyal’s laughter shimmered and dissolved into static. The dining table faded. The light dimmed.

And Damian remained frozen, hand still half-raised, reaching for a future that was never his to claim.

…..

In the heart of the Infinite Realms, where time unraveled and rewound in endless loops and rivers of light, a lone figure hovered silently above the drifting threads of fate. Clockwork, the Master of Time, ancient and eternal, gazed down upon the scene unfolding within the mortal world. His staff gleamed as it gears ever turning, ticking in rhythm with realities both seen and unseen.

His eyes that is both ageless and all-knowing, rested on the image of a boy no longer a child. Damian Al Ghul Wayne stood still before the dying glow of a vanished vision, his heart laid bare. Once a prince of shadows, molded by assassins and pride, Damian now stood not as a conqueror, but as a brothe still grieving. He no longer sought to possess or dominate, but to reclaim something that had always been just out of reach: family.

The Observers had spoken long ago, their verdicts cold and absolute. Danyal’s future, they had said, was a path carved in steel and soaked in blood. The catalyst of the Infinite Realms, the one who will bring the end. But Clockwork had always known better. Time, after all, was not a straight line, it branched, curved, rebelled. And in one of those near-forgotten offshoots, he had seen a flicker. A possibility so faint it could have been dismissed as error. But Clockwork did not dismiss.

He had seen a future in which the Infinite Realms chaotic would finally know peace. He had seen a king . And that king—against all odds—had come in the form of Danyal Al Ghul Wayne.

A soft, amused breath escaped the Master of Time as his gaze shifted across the layers of existence to a shadow nestled within the Realms themselves. There, hidden among the currents of ectoplasm and fractured echoes of forgotten souls, stood a young ghost. His white hair drifted like mist in the realm’s gentle current, his glowing green eyes solemn yet radiant. Gone were the dark locks, icey blue eyes and quiet smiles of Danyal Al Ghul. In his place stood Daniel Fenton—Danny Phantom—the Halfa. Half-human, half-ghost. A being unlike any other. A bridge between life and death.

Clockwork observed him with fondness, a rare warmth in his otherwise distant demeanor. He remembered the moment clearly, the crack between timelines where fate had faltered just long enough for intervention. The Observers had turned away, believing that Clockwork will carry out their verdict to execute the young boy, but Clockwork had seen the glimmer of what could be. He had rescued the boy from his grave and scattered his memories.

He had delivered the amnesiac child to a quiet home in Amity Park, into the waiting arms of the unsuspecting Fenton couple—eccentric, brilliant, and just compassionate enough to raise him without ever questioning the mystery of his arrival. The boy was given a name, a room, a place to grow. And on that fateful day, when Danny stepped into the portal and his molecules split between two worlds, Clockwork had watched it happen with a quiet, satisfied nod. That had been the moment. The transformation. The birth of a future king.

The Infinite Realms would have their High King.

And now, as the Realms shimmered in resonance with Damian’s grief, and Danny’s own presence and ignorance hummed at the edge of understanding, Clockwork let the corners of his lips curl just slightly.

He had never told the Observers about this faint possible of a timeline. The one he saw only once, a future so far removed it flickered like starlight on the edge of perception. This timeline where, both the Realms have their king but he will have a granchild.

Clockwork kept that knowledge close. Even for a being beyond time, some secrets were too precious to share.

As he look at the grieving Damian telling his family a future could have been and Danny enjoying his somewhat normal routine for a young Halfa like him not knowing the immediate danger that is quickly closing in on him.

Clockwork smiled, All in due time.

…...

 PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: Again it got too long for my liking....

PPS: I got a bit carried away, hehehehehe.....

[sugarplumkneecaps]

I have a cute idea for Shadow. Imagine he and reader have a baby girl and when he asks reader what they should name her, reader suggests Maria. 🥹

A/N: This is such a cute idea and I could totally see this happening! Hopefully I did this wholesome idea justice <3

Namesake

Pairing: Shadow x Reader (gender neutral) C/W: none Genre: Romantic, domestic fluff

A small jab within woke you from your nap, causing you to let out a small groan in pain. You were in the uncomfortable stage of pregnancy at this point, where the baby would stretch out within your abdomen in ways you truly could not understand. Shadow was alerted to your state, blinking into existence next to you. Although he had done this time and time again, his sudden presence startled you.

“Oh, jeez Shadow!” You placed your hand on your chest in an effort to calm your racing heart. The involuntary jump earning you another kick from within.

“What’s wrong?!” Shadow knelt down next to you, his careful hand making contact with your stomach. A look of panicked concern consumed his features.

You placed your hand on his, giving it a light squeeze. “The baby is fine, Shadow. They really enjoy having their foot in my ribs-“ your voice dripping with irritation, “but they’re fine.”

His scarlet eyes met yours, your touch and words bringing him a great deal of comfort.

He had been incredibly diligent (and anal, if you’re being honest) throughout your pregnancy. The amount of research he did in his spare time led him to a forming a strict diet and activity regiment for you to keep you and the baby safe. The first trimester was brutal, as the fear of possibly losing the child drove most of his extreme requests. Getting into the second trimester meant that the initial fear gave way to new ones, but still meant that your restrictions weren’t nearly as... restrictive. You were thankful you could at least broaden your meal item choices at this point.

Shadow’s hand lingered between your stomach and your hand for a long moment before he moved to help you onto your feet. “Your ultrasound is today, love. We should get ready.”

“Would you like to finally find out what the gender is?” Your voice resembling that of a plea. Another thing Shadow was surprisingly picky about was not finding out the gender too soon. When you made mention in the past that knowing the gender might help you choose what to buy for the baby, he simply stated that gender neutral items were more sensible anyway.

He pondered your request again for a long time, “I have your clothes set out on the bed. We don’t want to be late.”

Guess that’s a resounding “no” then. You thought to yourself, letting out an exasperated huff.

Once you were dressed, you both were out the door and on your way to the clinic.

This particular clinic was also specially selected by your partner, which you had little to complain about. The quality of the care you had received there had been incredible, for lack of a better word. Your midwife had chatted with you about each and every concern either you or Shadow had with such care and compassion, ensuring you both felt at ease through each stage of the pregnancy. They were the one who greeted you as you entered the building, a warm smile on their lips.

“Today’s a big day,” they cooed. “You must be excited.”

“Absolutely!” You smiled back, moving your hand to hold Shadow’s.

He squeezed your hand lightly, looking over at you lovingly before you both followed the midwife to the room.

You got comfortable on the bed in the center of the room as Shadow took the padded bench to your side. The lights were dim, with a projector light casting a dark image that would soon be images of your baby on the wall in front of you. This was nothing new for you, but each time you had entered this room for an ultrasound it always felt somewhat surreal.

You were carrying a baby. Your baby. His baby.

The technician joined you shortly after you both were comfortable, greeting you, “Hi again, it’s so nice to see you both! I hope things have been well?”

“Yes, Shadow’s been going through a great deal of trouble to ensure they have been,” you laughed. Shadow let out a small huff under his breath as you and the tech shared a chuckle together.

“Are we wanting to find out the gender today?” they inquired, looking to you.

You bit your lip lightly before opening your mouth to answer.

“Yes.”

To your surprise, it was Shadow who answered. You whipped your head around to look at him, your voice catching. A whisper was all you could manage, “really?”

He nodded, caressing your cheek as he ran a thumb over the blush forming.

The technician was quick to get to work, applying warmed gel to your abdomen before placing the wand against your skin.

A black and white image appeared on the projection in front of you, little features of your baby coming into view. The tech went over each; the hands, the face, the feet. Each bringing you and Shadow a sense of shared joy and relief to see your baby doing so well. The tech paused, inquiring once again, “are we ready to see what gender baby is?”

Shadow held your hand tight, “we’re happy with whatever, as long as they are healthy.”

His anxiety present in his words, you rubbed your thumb over his in an effort to soothe him. “We’re ready.”

The wand moved, as did the image in front of you. At this point you only hoped that the baby would cooperate long enough to discern the sex. The room stood still as the image halted, anticipation hanging in the air.

“Now you see this area here? You’re having a girl.”

A sudden rush of emotions overtook you and Shadow as the information registered. You looked over to see his eyes get wide before he pulled you into a tight hug.

“We’re going to have a girl,” he repeated, as if in a trance.

-----

You held the roll of ultrasound images in your hand for what felt like an eternity. Things had been quiet, the only sound coming from Shadow prepping dinner in the kitchen.

A baby girl.

Shadow had refused to discuss baby names up to this point, leaving the realm of possibilities open for any number of choices. You played around with a few, saying them under your breath to see which one might stick.

“Dinner is ready,” Shadow called as he plated the food.

You made your way to the table, roll of pictures still in hand. As you sat down, you placed the images to the side of your plate, the ultrasound featuring the words “it’s a girl!” accompanying an identifying circle on top.

Shadow paused to look at it as he brought you your drink, reaching over to plant a kiss on your forehead before sitting across from you.

“Have you thought of a name?”

He took a slow bite and chewed for a moment. “Not yet. Have you?”

You gnawed at your bottom lip (earning you a lighthearted scolding from Shadow) before scooping up a bite of food yourself. The reality was that, yes, you had in fact thought of a name. You had thought of a hundred names. But only one felt right to you. All you were hoping was that he would feel the same.

The long pause between you revealed your answer in part, eliciting a warm smile from your partner. “Well, don’t keep me waiting. What is it?”

Butterflies fluttered through your stomach up to your heart, causing your cheeks to burn as the name repeated over and over in your head. You swallowed hard, “Maria.”

Shadow stopped his movements immediately, his warm smile mixing with an expression you could not decipher. His utensil fell from his hand as he rose from his seat, making his way over to you slowly. You panicked, hoping that you did not offend him.

He grabbed your shoulders and peered into your eyes. You realized the his were welling up with silent tears before he fell to his knees before you. You pulled him into a tight embrace, brushing your fingers through his quills. “Only if-“ you stuttered, his sudden vulnerability catching you off guard. “Only if that’s okay with you-“

He pulled back to look at you, tears falling freely down his cheeks. “It’s perfect.”

[the-lazyyy-artist]

Roommates Wanted! fem!reader x o. aiku x s. ryusei x i. sae things that make sense

summary: two months in and beyond the contracts, there are systems that the group agreed upon that just make sense to them.

tags and themes: roommates au, slight crack, very ooc, mundane day-to-day events, shidou complains, aiku balances everything, sae is a rich boy, reader is the glue... somehow

author's notes: i am so so so excited to write more about this au, and slowly, we'll flesh out the dynamics between the four! this has been the happiest I've been writing something, and i hope you guys love it as much as i do! I'm also planning to release character visuals soon lmao. as always, reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated!

Check out the Masterlist!!

@ysvanielle @kai-zawa @literallyushiwaka @londonsworldddd @itz-phantomz @imcheshire @loverlixie @byzantiumhollow @bontensbabygirl @sugacor3

It's been a month since Sae joined, and two since you, Aiku, and Shidou started to live together as roommates. You never thought it would work, given the huge differences in your careers and personalities. As expected, all of you have formed systems in your apartment that just make sense to the four of you.

The moment Sae moved in, you introduced one of the most important household items: the whiteboard calendar. "Even if we don't talk most of the time," you explained, "this could be our form of communication. Schedules, deadlines, everything. We'd let everyone know what's going on through this." The boys agreed, but Sae was the most pleased with the idea. He'd finally have something to keep track of all the deadlines he's dealing with. You assigned them a marker each, their color of choice.

Aiku - dark green

Shidou - pink (the brightest, he said)

Sae - red

You - blue

Aiku came home one day with the markers, and everyone, like schoolchildren, scribbled on the whiteboard before they decided to fill in the Month, Year, and Days.

Aiku would fill some spaces on the calendar with important lessons for his class, lesson plan deadlines, and major exams at school. Weekends would fill up most of his tasks. Sae, as an editor at a publishing house, would fill in the calendar with the names of authors and manuscript deadlines, scattered throughout. Shidou's was mostly non-existent, but if he did write something, it would be the name of an important client who had scheduled a class with him. He'd also write stuff like "new protein shake flavor release" because he's been looking forward to it. And you...

Oh, the moment a new month rolls in, you'd immediately fill in the first week or two with your ever-changing, inconsistent schedule. Two graveyard shifts in a row, then a sudden afternoon shift, then back to graveyard. You only get one day off per week, and the boys hated how weird and chaotic your schedule was.

The color coding on your markers made a ripple effect on other smaller things: keychains on everyone's keys, so Shidou won't accidentally grab yours. Then Aiku installed hooks on the wall near the front door to get rid of the key bowl and hang the keys in their designated colors. Aiku and Sae's keys were a little bulky because both own cars (Aiku got his from his dad when he passed the bar exam. Sae... Take a wild guess how he got his). You and Shidou only had two to three keys hanging on your keychains.

Then it became color-coded mugs because of how many times Shidou has used Sae's cup, or Aiku's cup... Or your cup... But never his own. Sae would scold him, calm and cold, and Shidou kinda stopped. So, you and Aiku bought everyone mugs in your designated colors, too.

Another thing that really made sense for you guys was the savings jar. You don't have anything in mind to save for, it was just something you could dig into if the group decides for take-out instead of Aiku's cooking (he'd be thankful that you guys made him rest for a moment), or if you and Shidou planned on buying a new game for his PlayStation (he'd beat your ass until you walk out. Of course, he's laughing). Maybe save up for a new air fryer you saw at the mall one time. It was there for everyone. You, Aiku, and Shidou would shove spare change and bills in the jar, but you always wonder if Sae's spare bills were too much because sometimes, you'd see hundreds in there. Rich boy shit.

A grocery list for bi-weekly grocery runs is also important. A new list will be attached to the fridge, just below the whiteboard calendar, and everyone will write down everything they need before the weekend errands. Shidou would write his in a scrawly handwriting, and it's sometimes "instant ramen x5" or "that new snack I saw on TV, will send you a photo.” Sae would add his in neat handwriting, sometimes in cursive. It's always just the necessities. Aiku will write his necessities and a bunch of snacks for everyone. Sometimes he would be in charge of auditing the fridge just to see what food products you guys needed to survive. He'd always have this neat handwriting. Professor-like. And you? You'd write down your necessities and cravings in a hurried handwriting. Sometimes a little messy like Shidou's.

Grocery runs are handled by Aiku. Sometimes you'd accompany him if you had a Saturday or Sunday off. Sometimes Sae would come with him. Aiku would sometimes tell the others how Sae covered this month's grocery run again, not letting everyone pay. But if it's just Aiku, he'd make sure that everyone chips in once the bill is split according to what everyone wrote in the grocery list. "I'm not as rich as Sae, ya know," he'd reason if Shidou grumbles about it. It was not a problem with you, since it was all you agreed upon when stepping into the apartment.

But the most hated item in the house, something Shidou dreads the most, is the budgeting logbook. Rent, bills, and everything in between. You'd pull the boys at the dinner table to have a roommate meeting ("Five minutes tops, Shidou. Please!"), and everything was discussed. Everyone had to contribute to the month's rent and bills. Sae would be in charge of updating the spreadsheet on his laptop ("Just in case we lose the logbook, we have a copy," he explained), and Aiku handles the money and pays it to the sweet, old landlady downstairs.

If anything, you guys shouldn't have really worked out. Not with Shidou's constant complaining and explosive energy every morning. Not with Sae's quiet judgments and long sighs. Not with Aiku’s overly optimistic views and his "failed" attempts to keep the harmony. And especially not you and your chaotic schedules and sudden bursts of annoyance because of a messy house. But it did.

And you're glad it did.

[kiwriteswords]

Of course I have to request something for the florist story, I love it too much to not take part of it 👀 and I wanted to see some jealous Hotch like maybe he comes to the shop and see some customers flirting with reader (like you said in your last story, men will be men) but I’m letting you work your magical words on this I trust you a 100% ✨💛

Flowers in the Darkest Parts of You [Jealous!Aaron Hotchner x Florist!Reader]

Florist!Reader Masterlist|| Main Masterlist [I need to update this, sorry!]|| Ao3||Word Count: 2k|| AN:  THANK YOU FOR THIS, LOVELY! I hope you enjoy xo! Requests are open for all things florsit!reader only right now! Tags/Warnings: Female!Reader, Florist!Reader, Non-BAU!Reader, pre-relationship, slight angst, reader has commitment issues, reader has trust issues, hotch is possessive, jealous!hotch, Sassy!Reader, Flirty!Reader, mentions of intimate moments, dating, flirtatious customer Summary:  Aaron Hotchner has no right to get jealous over your customers flirting with you, but when you're hesitant to put a label on things, he feels at a loss...a jealous loss.

The sheets were still warm.

The room smelled like you--

Your perfume lingering in the air, subtle and floral, mixed with candle wax and the crisp, expensive detergent Hotch insisted on using for every item in his pristine linen closet.

It had been another perfect night. Dinner at a quiet, hidden bistro tucked into a Georgetown alleyway. You wore that deep green silk dress he hadn’t stopped looking at all night. You smiled at him over wine glasses and teased him about his choice in appetizers, and he listened to you like the world didn’t exist beyond your voice.

And then this.

Back in his apartment, the rest of the night unfolding like it always did. Unrushed. Reverent. Magical.

Fairytale, even.

But fairytales ended. Always.

And you, like clockwork, were already sitting up in bed, hair messy and cheeks still flushed, reaching for your dress on the chair by the closet.

Hotch turned onto his side, resting his head in one hand, watching you with quiet confusion, an ache forming behind his ribs.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said softly.

You smiled over your shoulder, already stepping into your dress. “I know.”

He pushed himself up slightly, the sheets pooling at his waist. “So…don’t.”

You hesitated--only for a second--but it was long enough for him to catch it.

“We’ve done this, what…six, seven times now?” he asked. He wasn’t angry. Just tired. “You come back here, we spend these incredible nights together, and then you leave like none of it means anything.”

You paused by the mirror, smoothing the fabric of your dress. “It does mean something.”

“Then why won’t you stay?” His voice cracked, just a bit. “Why is it always my place, always your exit plan ready? You never let me into yours. You never let me wake up with you.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms.

“Aaron--”

“No,” he said gently, but firmly. “I’m not asking for a key to your apartment or to meet your family or anything insane. I’m just asking…what are we doing? Because it feels real to me. It feels serious.”

Your expression shifted. Guarded. The playful sparkle he loved so much flickered out like a flame.

“I told you from the beginning I don’t do fairytales,” you said, voice low.

“This isn’t a fairytale,” he said quietly. “It’s us.”

You opened your mouth to respond, then shut it again. You picked up your purse instead.

“I should go.”

“Why?” His voice stopped you. “Because I care too much? Because I’m not playing games?”

You turned back around slowly. “Because I am.”

That stunned him into silence.

You exhaled, and the truth came tumbling out--not bitter, not angry, just...tired.

“I’ve seen men like you walk into my shop for years, Aaron. Gentlemen with wedding rings and lies. Men who say all the right things until you believe them, until you’re left holding the flowers you arranged for your own heartbreak. I know what it’s like to give someone everything and watch them turn it into nothing.”

“I’m not--”

“I know you’re not really like them,” you said, cutting him off, voice trembling. “That’s the problem.”

He stared at you, heart pounding.

“You’re good. You’re really good.” You looked down, then met his eyes again. “And if I let this become real...and you changed your mind later, or realized you weren’t ready, or that I wasn’t enough--” Your breath caught. “I wouldn’t survive it.”

Hotch swallowed hard, his own voice rough. “You think I’d do that to you?”

Whatever past you carried--

It was heavy. 

And confusing.

It was written all over your face and in every wall at that floral shop. 

“I don’t think,” you whispered. “I fear.”

Silence stretched between you like a thread, ready to snap.

You reached for the doorknob, your back to him now.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” you said, voice soft. He wanted to badly to point out your hesitation. The profiler in him screaming to call you out. Call your bluff. Point out what may actually be pulling you away.

But…but--

Hotch didn’t stop you.

He looked around to his dresser, where a petite arrangement sat in a tall, skinny vase. A long delphinium peaked out the top. You’d given it to him the other day when he popped into your shop. 

The door clicked behind you.

And he lay back down in his bed, alone again, the empty side still warm with the ghost of you.

The next day?

Hotch’s phone rang just after lunch.

He saw your name flash across the screen and felt his stomach twist. Not from nerves exactly--

Just from the leftover ache of watching you slip out his door the night before, heels clicking against hardwood like punctuation.

He answered on the second ring.

“Hotchner.”

“Wow,” you teased, your voice bright and breezy like nothing had happened. “Very formal.”

He leaned back in his chair, already suspicious of the easy tone. “I’m at work.”

“Well, yeah. So am I,” you said, a little sing-songy. “Just thought I’d call and say...hi.”

His silence prompted a softer exhale from your end.

“And to say I’m sorry. For last night.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“I have some things I need to work on,” you continued, quieter now. “And I know that’s not fair to you. But the men I’m usually surrounded by? They don’t tend to be great. You showing up in my life the way you did--it’s been a bit of a whirlwind. I’m still catching my breath.”

Ah.

There it was.

The honesty he’d been craving, sitting right under that polished charm you always wore so well.

He closed his eyes for a second. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I mean it,” you added. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever be great at this…but if you have a little patience, I’d like to try.”

He smiled just slightly, something soft blooming in his chest. “I’ve got plenty of patience.”

And that should’ve been it--

One of those delicate, rare moments where you cracked open just enough for him to see inside.

But then…

“Hey there, flower queen,” a male voice called in the background, far too loud and way too flirtatious. “Am I interrupting something, or can I steal your attention for a sec?”

Hotch straightened in his chair.

You cupped the receiver slightly and called back, amused, “Just a second, Melvin.”

Melvin?

Hotch blinked. “Melvin?”

“Mhm,” you said, voice still casual. “Regular customer.”

There was a clatter on your end--probably a vase, maybe a shelf--and then a muffled, “You look stunning today, by the way. That color on you is criminal.”

Hotch’s jaw ticked.

You didn’t flirt back, but you didn’t shut it down, either. 

Just let it pass with a low chuckle and a, “You picking up or just passing through?”

“Placing an order to pick up later,” Melvin said cheerfully. “But if you’ve got time later, I’d love to buy you a coffee.”

“I’ll check my schedule.

Hotch cleared his throat. 

Loudly.

You came back to the line. “Sorry about that. Just Melvin being Melvin.”

Hotch’s voice was perfectly calm. “Sounds like a fan.”

“He’s harmless,” you said breezily. “Anyway--thank you for hearing me out. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sure,” he said, clipped. “Talk soon.”

He hung up first.

Then sat in silence for a long moment, staring down at his desk.

Fucking Melvin.

Jesus Christ.

So there he was hours later. 

Boy, would he have to answer to the team later on this one. A lunch break outside of the office? One he likely would be longer than thirty minutes for? The way he stormed out? 

He didn’t mean to show up.

Okay, maybe he did.

(He so did.) 

Hotch told himself he was just out for a break, clearing his head, getting some air--but his feet took him straight to your shop before his brain could make a better decision.

The bell chimed overhead.

You looked up instantly, the softest smile forming on your lips. “Twice in two days? You’re gonna ruin your mysterious FBI reputation.”

He opened his mouth to reply--

 --and then saw him.

Melvin.

Late thirties, tan, perfectly tousled hair, wearing a bomber jacket over a well-fitted shirt that screamed tech money and oat milk lattes.

“Oh,” you said, noticing the shift in Hotch’s expression. “Melvin just came to pick up his order.”

Melvin turned, gave Hotch a once-over. “Hey. Sorry, didn’t see you there. You her brother or…?”

Ouch.

Hotch’s expression didn’t flinch. “No.”

Melvin raised his brows. “Ah. Got it.”

You were trying not to laugh.

“I just stopped by,” Hotch said, voice sharp but polite. “Thought I’d see the final version of what you’ve been working on.”

You gave him a curious look. “You…don’t even know what I’m working on.”

He met your gaze. “Doesn’t matter. You always make it look good.”

Melvin cleared his throat. “Well, this is getting a little cozy. I’ll get out of your hair.” He turned back to you. “Thanks again, gorgeous. You’re a miracle worker.”

“Of course,” you said easily, moving to the counter with his wrapped bouquet.

Melvin winked at you--winked--and then turned toward the door with a confident wave. “Catch you soon.”

The bell chimed again.

The door shut behind him.

Hotch didn’t speak for a moment. He just stared at the empty doorway like it personally offended him.

You slid your hands into the front of your apron, head tilted. “Something wrong?”

“No,” he said, a little too fast. “Just…curious.”

“About?”

You asked like you didn’t already know.

“Melvin.”

You grinned. “He’s a loyal customer.”

“He’s also annoyingly confident.”

You smirked. “Is that your profiler read?”

“He seems very interested in being more than just a loyal customer.”

You leaned a hip against the counter, studying him. “He flirts with everyone.”

“That doesn’t mean I like it.”

The silence that followed hung heavy, like pollen in thick air.

You arched a brow. “Jealous?”

Hotch didn’t answer.

Didn’t smirk. Didn’t brush it off.

He just looked at you with that quiet storm in his eyes, something raw barely kept under control.

He stepped closer--

Slowly, deliberately. 

Just enough that you had to tilt your chin up to hold his gaze. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low. 

Earnest. .

A little frayed at the edges.

“It’s hard,” he admitted. “Being with you like this. These perfect nights. The moments we almost feel like something real.”

You stayed still. Waiting.

“And then I see someone else walk in here,” he continued, “and I realize I have no right to be jealous. No right to feel possessive. Because you’re not...you’re not mine. Not officially.”

That hit harder than you expected.

Not because he was wrong--but because he was right.

“I don’t want to be the guy who tries to claim you,” he added, voice rough. “You’re your own person.You don’t belong to anyone. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish you were mine sometimes. That I didn’t feel it--all the time.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly tight.

He shook his head, stepping back an inch, like he’d said too much. “I’m sorry. I just…needed to say it.”

You reached across the counter slowly, brushing your fingers against his wrist.

“I never said I didn’t want to be yours,” you said softly. “I just said I’m scared of what happens when I am.”

Hotch looked at you like he was seeing you clearly for the first time.

Vulnerable. Real. Not the flirty, confident woman with a perfect bouquet and a quick joke--

But someone still deciding if she was allowed to believe in good men again.

You straightened, cleared your throat, bringing the moment back down to earth. “Besides,” you added, teasing just enough to ease the tension, “if you keep walking in here like this, glowering at Melvin, I might start charging you rent.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. “I’d pay it.”

But before he could step away, you leaned in slightly, voice barely above a whisper.

“For the record?” you said. “If I were…yours…Melvin wouldn’t stand a chance.”

His eyes darkened just a little.

And while he didn’t kiss you--not here, not now--he took your hand for a moment longer than he needed to.

Held it like a promise.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy @stilestotherescue @superlegend216

[barabaraoranges]

welcome to your new life!

ft. gn!reader, sam, dorian, mentions of dishy

brief mentions of reader's "microflora" in relation to washing sex toys in dishwasher. does not specify what microflora. reader is called "dude" by Sam

explicit content: none. there's an anal joke, discussions of fucking dishy, discussions of arson, and brief imagery of fucking dorian but nothing explicit. regardless, please remember this is a primarily 18+ nsfw blog when interacting and scrolling.

wc: 2.2k

written before game release. this is a laundry list of the author's initial thoughts and immediate sex jokes when it came to this game. will probably be inaccurate to canon. reader has also not discovered everything is alive. this is also straight up the first i've written in upwards of half of a year so apologies if it's rough.

"Do you think my dishwasher knows I looked up if I could wash my sex toys in it—I mean, him?"

A stranger turned their head as you walked down the sidewalk. You, oblivious to the mortified stare, continued your pitiful attempt at a calming stroll through the neighborhood, loudly chatting with Sam on the phone.

"First, gross. Microbiome flora and stuff," Sam replied. You could hear water running in the background. Dishes, probably. "Second, why would it know that?"

"Oh, he's, uh… He's connected to the—uh—the wifi."

It had been a week since that the thing. The glasses. The thing that made you question every single thing in existence, that made you look into the trees and ask, are every single one of these leaves secretly alive? And do they die each winter? appeared in your life. A single item that introduced a level of existential horror and dread you could have never dreamed of.

You were thankful for your friend Sam and the fact that the outside, well, still existed. Even if the outside consisted of family homes snatched up by corporations that butchered them into grayscale or beige per-the-room rentals for semesterly college students. Or became a revolving door for GroundInn users, shutting out any potential families to settle down. There was at least somewhere to debrief that didn't feel like there were a million things watching, listening to you at all times.

Briefly, you wondered if the HOA had a human form. An image of a businessman popped in your head—grayscale, beige, lifeless like the homes that filled your street. Your grass is too tall! No native wildflower habitats! Your house color is too bright! The bylaws, the bylaws, pay the fine!

A sweat pearl rolled down your face.

"… Okay, that's fucking weird and super intrusive. So like, yeah, he probably does know. But like, dude-"

She paused.

"-I think you're edging your dishwasher."

So casual. So passive with the delivery. And yet, it felt like a truck with how tight your chest felt. You needed somewhere to sit to process.

Thankfully, at the end of the neighborhood was a small café, its windows shuddered and door boarded up. Café au Café had been an established, family owned café that you remembered fondly from childhood. It'd grown with you over the years, in all the good and bad ways. It's where you celebrated many birthdays, had many of breakdowns in over college work, and celebrated your eventual graduation. Its croissants warm and flaky, buttery and to die for. The pastries delicate, a work of art to brighten even the dreariest day. The coffee and drinks, always perfectly tailored to fit your mood, like the machines had a magic in them to make everything right.

And much like your job, it was shut down thanks to the robot cafe that had opened just down the street. Its croissants arriving frozen and simply needing thrown in the oven, the coffee bland and prone to triggering a depressive episode. But it was cheap and that was enough for everyone to overlook the lifeless husk serving them their morning meal. The family owned Café au Café was no match for it. In less than a year, your childhood had shut down permanently.

It did, however, make the perfect narrative backdrop for a Pastel Revelations Catholicism level mental breakdown. A last moment of comfort and reassurance from an old friend. You sat down on the once welcoming metal chair, now rusted from time and neglect. Elbows on your knees and hunched over, you rubbed your face with your free hand.

"Or is it foreplay?" Sam wondered, not giving you a moment of rest. "Like, dirty talk and shit. 'Oh, I'm gonna do all these dirty things I said I was gonna do to you' but with like, the weird shit you search."

"Sam." It took a moment for words to come out. "I'm not fucking my dishwasher."

"Okay, but like… It'd be an experience."

"Sam." You sighed, exasperated. "He's got two human legs and his upper body is a dishwasher. I'm not fucking a dishwasher with legs."

"Ugh, boring."

You thumbed through your mental archive of dishwasher anatomy. There was a drainpipe and something to let the water in, obviously. But what about the inner parts? The little squirting parts, the racks, the dish tab spot.

None of those seemed particularly pleasant.

Or was the dishwasher part just a mascot? Something he put on over himself? Maybe he was just, some guy underneath it all? No, that wasn't possible. The top half was your dishwasher, through and through. There was no mistaking it, not with how intimately you knew his inner workings from deep cleanings in the past. Clearing his drains, snaking out the clogs, scrubbing the gunk buildup away with a Father Scrub and a thick, heavy squirt of milky Dusk dish detergent…

… Had you been teasing your dishwasher this entire time? Did he expect you to…?

"I don't think whatever hole he's got would be fun to fuck," you concluded, shutting that down. "I think it'd be painful."

"Okay, but like… You don't have to be the one topping."

"… Didn't you just lecture me about microbiome flora stuff?" You retorted, exasperated. "I think getting fucked by the dishwasher would be considerably worse for my microbiome than fucking myself with dishwasher cleaned sex toys."

In the call background, you could hear the telltale signs of dishwashing. Water running, hard scrubbing. I guess that's an option, you thought. Or would he start getting weird about not using him? Would he understand? Does he have an ego? If he did know that you had searched if you could wash sex toys in home, it would be a bit less awkward.

You made a mental note to start cleaning your toys in your basement bathroom.

It never fully struck you exactly the gravity of your situation. So many people with different personalities. You had Dorian who stressed the importance of friendship and getting along with everyone. You had Dishy who seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. Admittedly, you'd been avoiding using the glasses to find out exactly what all was alive, with Dishy being a complete accident. You didn't really want to know exactly what all was alive, with those two being enough to rattle your entire view on the world. But with the way Dorian stressed friendships and getting along with everyone…

How expensive would it be to move? The housing market was in shambles and renting seemed miserable. Shelling out a few thousand dollars would eat into your emergency savings you needed to live out the newly unemployed, single life. Plus if all your furniture was alive, you'd have to get all new furniture too. Or would the new furniture come alive too? If you got rid of the glasses before moving, you'd probably be able to avoid everything coming to life. Just toss it in the trash can, put it out for trash, and good-bye to all your problems!

Wait, the trash can's probably alive too, you thought, remembering Dorian's lecture on friendship. Shit, there goes that plan… Maybe…

"Ya know, I could just commit arson," you concluded rather reasonably, "claim it with insurance, then move and start a new life somewhere else."

A splash of water, followed by swearing and clattering dishes in the sink. You could feel the disappointment radiating from the other end of the phone.

"Well, now you can't because you just told me-" More muttered swearing. "-And I'm not getting involved in the investigation."

Mentally, you crossed a life of crime off of your "new career path" list. You wouldn't be able to shut your mouth, evidently.

"Besides, wouldn't you feel guilty burning everything down, knowing everything is alive?"

Now that… That was a question you could dwell on. Something to distract you from everything. What were the metaphysical properties behind your furniture? Did they have a soul? Did they exist in some quantum realm? Mentally you thumbed through an extra dusty, cobweb covered, steel filing cabinet drawer labeled "philosophy 101". Or was it a question of quantum physics. A pity you didn't study physics in college, that might have saved you from being taken over by AI.

But the possibilities. The possibilites of discovering a new philosophical concept that will stump the future generations to come. Something to leave your mark on the world. A question of "can something temporarily have a soul if you are specifically focusing on it through certain lenses?" How would this apply to court rulings? Legal proceedings? Would these glasses be required in court cases to determine damages to a living human being? This discovery could be groundbreaking and generation defining.

Triumphant in finding a proper course for your life that couldn't possibly be taken over by AI, you stood from the abandoned chair. Pride swelled in your chest, your chin held high.

"… Sam."

She groaned at the pride in your voice. She knew that tone of voice all too well.

"Would I be legally on the hook for killing them if I commit arson?"

"… Dude."

"Would the courts consider furniture that comes alive only when you wear specific glasses as human beings, thus making it murder if I commit arson?"

"Dude!"

"I should go back to school and become a lawyer. Or a philosopher. Think about it!"

"I think…" She sighed, audibly shaking her head. "I think you should go home and start applying for jobs before you completely lose it."

It was probably high time for you to head home. You hadn't been out for extended periods of time after losing your job, and you didn't want your now alive front door to worry too much about you. Idle conversation accompanied you as you walked home, consisting of Sam talking you down from going back to college to becoming a lawyer, explaining that people would probably think you'd lost if you tried to argue that furniture had souls. You wondered aloud if you needed to start getting more food, if your grocery budget would go it, if you could claim them on taxes.

Again, a stranger looked back in horror and concern as you had these conversations. Once again, you were oblivious to it.

You'd taken to saying goodbye a block before you got home, not wanting Dorian to overhear what was said in private. You deserved at least the briefest moment of privacy, knowing it ended the minute you put your key in the door.

At least it was useful, to a degree, having a front door that could tell you everything that happened while you were gone. Even if everything else felt like a weird, vaguely panopticon level of surveillance. Closing the door behind you, you slipped your glasses on and looked at Dorian.

The man had a… Puzzled? Puzzled look? Quizzical? Was he even capable of showing confusion? Whatever it was, it was clear he had a question on his mind.

"What's up?" you nervously asked, tensing instinctively.

The last thing you needed was someone casing your house.

"I've noticed something." His voice was straight, reliable. As usual. "If you don't mind me asking."

Stalker? You prayed for a brief moment it wasn't that.

"… Go ahead."

"Do you prefer coming in the back door?"

Such confidence. Such, nonchalance. Such poise. You looked at his face, desperate for an indication of what he was meaning. Was this a joke? An innuendo? Was this a statement about all the hookups and dates you brought to your house? Was this a genuine observation about your door using habits?

Mentally, you thumbed through everything he could possibly mean by that statement. You didn't have many reasons to use the front door nowadays, outside of grocery runs. Admittedly, you'd also been sneaking out the back to avoid any… Conversations with your now very alive door. So the statement wasn't exactly wrong, but-

…. Wait. Was the back door also alive?

"This is the first I've seen you in a while. You've been spending more time with the back door. I wanted to make sure everything was going smoothly between you two."

The back door was, in fact, alive. Because of course it was. Of course it was! Why wouldn't it be alive?

"Well, I, uh," you stumbled, searching for the proper words that wouldn't make this possibly not innuendo an actual innuendo. "I enjoy sitting out in the backyard. Sun is good for the uh, health and stuff. The vitamin D, ya know."

Would a door know about the benefits of sunlight? Does a door know what vitamin D is?

Does a door know about anal?

"Very well. I'll make sure his hinges are lubricated weekly and his knob stays clean. Smooth, easier entrance for everyone."

Lubricated. Smooth. Easy entrance. You thought about the first time you bought lube in college. Something about bullets? You figured a masc like Dorian would know all about that brand.

"I wouldn't want anyone to have a painful, unpleasant entry."

Somewhere in the background of your brain noise, the squeaks from your backdoor turned into moans, into groans, into heated gasps. The banging became actual banging, Dorian bent over in one way or another. His face flush, sweat dripping on his brow.

You weren't sure if you enjoyed the thoughts or if they simply happened because of the conversation's nature. All you could do was stare at him, your face as blank as you could possibly manage.

"… Thanks, Dorian."

"Anytime."

barabaraorange 2025

i only post on tumblr. if you see this posted elsewhere, it is not me. if you find this on ao3 or wattpad, please let me know if you find it so i can report it.

[venxomi]

TBHK Chapter 126 Analysis - The cost of a reckless wish

The Hourglass

The chapter begins with Nene flipping the Hourglass, but it not activating for a simple reason- According to last chapter, you need to make a wish first. The Hourglass simply didn't take effect because Nene hadn't made one.

So when the cat jumped in and saved her, explaining to Kako that it had only intervened because it relates to wanting to help- or save others. It was the wish of the one the cat had been before, and now it was Nene's. Because of the cat, the Hourglass now knew what Nene desired and, as a result, activated.

In essence, the Hourglass needed to know what the user wanted. Otherwise, how could it send Nene on endless loops, and, just like the other victims, have her soul waste away?

Along with information from the previous chapter, we have further confirmation that this Hourglass is nothing but an entity that, just like the pit god, wants to consume. In this chapter, it's shown directly- Nene is turned into sand as she is kept within the hourglass. It speaks to her.

"I am- We are- The Flow. Power. Time. Sand."

The Hourglass essentially boasts its capabilities; That it's a constant. That it's powerful. That it's limitless. And that's not the only thing. "I am- We are-" suggests that it's made up of a collective consciousness.

"Welcome! You have come to join us!"; It's not even trying to hide its goal, is it? To amass one more consciousness, one more soul within it, as it's made up of its users' corroded souls.

Did you know? Sand forms when rocks break down from weathering and eroding over thousands and even millions of years. But the Hourglass' process is faster than just waiting such an absurd amount of time. The moment Nene flipped the hourglass, the process had already begun. Along with the sand, Nene passes through it. Again and again. Again and again. Until her soul, slowly but surely, erodes into fine sand.

To put it in extremely simple terms, Kako was right. It's not an item that is actually capable of helping you reach your desired outcome. It dangles it in front of you like a carrot on a stick. That is all. It proves to you that it is capable of leading you to your desired result, but it doesn't allow you to reach it. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you think or how many times you try in desperation, you are unable to grasp the bait, the flicker of hope, in front of you.

One who sought riches would be killed by bandits. One who sought to gain someone's love ended herself and that someone. One who sought fame was killed by envy. One who wished to bring back people for the sake of someone else had that someone else disappear from existence. And one who simply wished to save her friends... Had them killed by her own hand.

But it's all right. For as long her soul is still in one piece, she can keep trying. Again and again and again... Wrapping her in its hands, pushing her down and continuing the slow process of corrosion. A fake "Good luck", an ironic one, fully aware of the end result.

Dehumanization

If you are familiar with my analysis of chapter 121, this is basically an expansion of it.

In it I talked about Amane's dehumanization process, how he is a victim of the Red House, a trapped soul who is unable to disobey, and also about having to kill his own family, his own little brother he loved so much, and then being forced into killing countless other people for the pit god which desensitized him completely.

Nene is directly put into Amane's shoes, where she fell victim to the Red House and was forced into its servitude. Unlike Kou in the past, who had been exorcised before he could harm the people he loved, Nene wasn't so lucky. She had to kill the friends she desperately attempted several times to save.

In this scene, Amane is projecting onto Nene, as she is in the same position as he once was. Holding onto her to prevent her from falling in a twisted way of providing comfort, possibly.

His assertion "See? I knew you could do it." suggested that a possessed Nene hesitated killing her loved ones, and maybe that struck a cord within him. That he had hesitated to kill his own family aswell, but he had no choice. That, just like him, she could do it. To further prove him right, that there's no meaning to life, death or anything else in this cursed house.

At that moment, The Red House had initiated a new feeder, freshly dehumanized. A kindred spirit.

Nene's sanity is frayed and she fell into despair. Her figure doesn't appear in the hourglass anymore as she flips the hourglass in a panic.

A new glimmer of hope (?)

Nene is now at her wits' end. She didn't even understand what had happened, only that she killed everyone. She can't figure out why. As a result, as she guessed, she would've repeated the same mistake.

However, a new hope emerges after she had been plunged into despair; The Clock Keeper of the Present. Will this hope be genuine and not just a carrot on a stick that Nene prepared to sacrifice everything for in vain?

Akane subtly reflecting in Nene's eyes reflect her desire to grasp on any sliver of hope she can find.

Thoughts and Predictions

Going a bit on an unserious remark, as a Re:Zero fan I absolutely loved this chapter. Subaru (who, if you don't know about the series, travels back to a point in time when he dies. He dies and suffers in various attempts to save the people he loves... A hell lot. He is unable to speak of this ability to others, so he suffers in silence.) has gained one more kindred spirit. I even illustrated this quick doodle of Nene and Subaru!

Back on topic, on the rare case that this is the worst she'll be through, it will permanently mentally scar her. Perhaps she might be able to put on a facade and pretend everything's fine, but no one is ever fine after being part of such horrors, having your friends die several times because of your failed attempts, and ultimately having them die by your very own hands. And if she's unable to speak about her experiences as this chapter suggested where she couldn't mention being from the future, then it's really over. I'm of the personal opinion that Iro will break Nene in order to further develop her character. Hit the bar as low as you possibly can, for your character to rise higher than ever before- That kind of technique. Every passing chapter seems to solidify this. Nene's flaws are tripping her up and making her horribly fail. She resolved to save everyone and fought by herself, but she was far too reckless in her desperation. Made a reckless decision of coming into contact with an entity that was properly explained as dangerous, had a hasty wish, and couldn't even figure out what actually needed to be changed after several attempts. She could only further fall into despair and break. I can't really put it into words properly as of now, but I can grasp what Iro wants to do with her character. Slowly, but surely, Iro has been working for this all along. Nene can no longer be ignorant of the world's cruelty. If she wants to understand and save everyone from it, she has to experience it for herself. Whether she gives up or stands back up as a result, it's a choice only she can make, isn't it?

As for Akane, as far as I can predict with the current information, there's 2 possibilities: 1. The Akane we see at the end is Akane of the 'original' timeline. The Clock Keepers' Boundary seems to be unaffected by changes in time (as it still exists despite the 7 Mysteries not existing in the new timeline), so if Akane stayed in there, then a Paradox could've been created where multiple "Akane Aoi" exist at the same time. 2. As the Clock Keeper of the Present, Akane is aware of all the attempts Nene made with the Hourglass, and as a result came to search for her after he died by her hands, aware of what just transpired. Both seem valid enough to me, so I'm honestly just curious. Can't wait until next chapter.

The cat's lines and interactions in chapter 126 further solidifies to me that it's related to Amane who had attempted to go back in time in 1968.

[half-dead-writer]

Hello! Could you do a masc (gn is okay too!) reader with Boom Shadow where reader is a minimum wage worker (probably works at meh burger or some cheap store) and Shadow falls head over heels for him? Straight up love at first sight. Like it's completely one-sided and he's really embarassed about having a crush on some random guy (of all people lmao) but he tries his best to befriend him. It's based on a trope i have with my OC and i thought it'd be fun to see how someone else would interpret the dynamic! (If possible, maybe Shadow successfully asks him out on a date at the end?)

Author's Note

ty for that fun request!! :3 I had a masc reader in mind for this one but once again I couldn't fit the masc mention anywhere so it kinda turned out gender neutral lol idk if I made him too dramatic but I hope you enjoy it anyway! i don't really know how to call this format, it's like a fanfic but also loosely written, like in headcanon form oh well, whatever, it exists

Favorite Employee

Shadow keeps coming back to Meh Burger, but not because of the food.

character: Shadow The Hedgehog (Sonic Boom) words: 2,386 reader: gender-neutral (intended to be masc) warnings: none, I think?? slightly suggestive at the end but nothing bad

How did that happen?

Shadow would've never indulged in his craving for a burger if he knew what the day would bring.

But today, the ultimate life form entertained his stomach's demands, chaos controlling himself right in front of the cursed place.

He knew the citizens well, at least from afar. So the moment be laid your eyes on you he knew you were a new face. He hardly cared for newcomers, but something about you, your clothes, your attitude, seemed to draw him in.

Of course, he ignored the feeling at first, placing confident strides towards the counter.

His sharp voice cut through the silence. "One burger."

Whatever your response was, be it dull like the rest of the place, kind, or even shy, the mere sound of your voice as you handed him the bag with a burger inside, telling him the amount of money he owed, felt like a gut punch to his entire being. On the outside, his face remained hardened, but the frown he usually wore started to show a different emotion. Surprise? Confusion?

He grabbed the bag after paying for it, and then disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The cave did nothing to calm down his beating heart, his eyes hardly focusing on the glowing markings adorning the walls.

Why was this happening?

The hedgehog looked at the bag in his hand, fingers clutching the paper so tightly it caused creases to appear on it.

Even run-ins with the blue hedgehog didn't leave him so... exhausted? Like he was on the verge of falling down.

That stupid face of yours was etched into his brain, worming it's way into his thoughts.

It was all stupid.

He felt... anger.

Initially, he thought it was directed at you.

But the deeper he dug, he realized the anger was stemming from seeing himself as weak.

How could he react like that to a random Meh Burger employee?

It was embarrassing. And he couldn't even figure out why.

Struggling to confront his emotions, he carefully unwrapped the packaged item. The presence of the object reminding him of events that transpired moments ago.

He wasn't even hungry anymore.

Safe to say, you started to notice his face in the crowd more often. Always the same order, at the same time.

Shadow was not known for his predictable behavior, but from experience, you could swear he'd always be there to get his food on time. You always made sure to prepare the bag a few minutes before his arrival, starting to notice the approval in his poker face as he received the item. You had no idea about the sickening butterflies appearing in his stomach each time his hand brushed against yours as you passed him his order.

Every meeting of yours was simple. Shadow appeared to get the order. Took the goods. Then teleported back. No conversation exchanged besides except for the transaction.

Until the one time you got to work late and the first thing you saw after arriving there, was the ebony hedgehog, arguing with your coworker, Dave.

"This one is insufficient." His piercing gaze bore onto the burger as if trying to make it disappear. Some poor excuse of sustenance, not even served by you. "Where's (Y/N)?" He knew your name by heart now, catching a glimpse of it on your name tag.

"Sir, we ensure you all burgers are of the same quality. Fresh from the freezer." Dave explained, dead eyes staring back at the clearly annoyed customer.

"Not what I asked, fool." His sight narrowed, already impatient with this fruitless conversation.

Another lavender shirt with yellow leaf-markings came into his view, this time not as infuriating. You.

He felt the need to flinch but stood his ground, not moving a muscle as you approached closer.

Obviously confused, you asked about the commotion.

Shadow remained silent, glaring at Dave. He didn't have to explain himself.

"This guy asked about you." He shamelessly pointed at the hedgehog. "I'm taking my break." And then he was gone.

Your eyes met with his in a silent question.

Shadow wanted to speak, but no words were coming out. Why did he feel like was not the one in control of the situation?

It was hard for him not to sound like a fool when the reason for his annoyance was him not seeing you.

"I didn't like his attitude." He mumbled an explanation. It was close enough.

Seeing the smile appear on your face after was worth it.

It was official. You were a better employee than Dave. Which of course, wasn't a surprise, but it still fed your ego a bit.

You took the bag left by Dave, passing it over the counter.

Shadow almost hesitated to grab it, his brain flooded with several thought processes. Should he add something else?

The hedgehog slowly took the object out of your hand, fingers lightly brushing over your own. The contact was the final push for him to spill out the words.

"What time do you leave work?" His question sounded more intimidating than he planned to, the rushed rumble in his voice coming out almost like a growl.

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. Then quickly recovered, reminding yourself he waited for an answer. Looking at the time, you responded truthfully, be it curiosity, genuine fear or lack thereof.

Without breaking the eye contact, he asked, or more so commanded you to arrive at the destination and time chosen by him.

Without even waiting for your response, the last words you heard before him disappearing were "Don't be late."

And just like that, he was gone. Leaving you with... possibly a life or death situation. You really weren't sure whether the guy was asking you to hang out, or planned to murder you where no one could find your body. As a newcomer, you didn't know much about Shadow, but from the passing conversation, you knew he was not a creature to mess with. Why would he out of all people invite you to a hang-out? That question haunted your mind for the rest of the shift, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't interested. You had to know what was the hedgehog's deal, even if it killed you. Possibly, he wouldn't. By a stretch, you were his favorite employee, after all.

Shadow did not need to hear your response. He teleported somewhere calm where he could gather his thoughts. He didn't think he was able to hear the rejection coming from your mouth.

If you didn't accept his offer, you wouldn't show. All that was left to do was to wait for the time of the meeting.

Panic was not something he experienced often. Even fighting with the toughest foes was not as stressful as talking about his feelings. But at this moment, the place inbetween waiting for you to leave work and the meeting, Shadow couldn't escape the churning in his stomach. The dread reaching up his spine as he thought of his next course of action.

Shadow did not have a plan yet, but one thing was clear. He wanted you to stop invading his brain and making him feel distracted, weak. Wanted you to give him the attention he deserved. Wanted you.

Multiple scenarios played in his head, wanting to be prepared for every possibility. You running away, rejection, at worst, maybe laughter. None of them were positive, but he had to make sure he'd be able to accept the outcome, no matter the response.

He was rehearsing what to say in his mind. Wondering if he looks presentable. Checking the time over and over (he was not gonna be late). Picking where to stand so the lighting makes him look cooler, even if he wouldn't admit to that part. Everything had to be on his terms if he was gonna lower himself to be... vulnerable.

The time passed quicker than he'd like. He was already at the place, watching from afar, noting any movement that his eyes could catch. And alas, he had noticed your silhouette, approaching the meetup spot at the agreed on time.

He teleported behind you, earning a startled yelp that made a subtle smirk appear on his face for a moment.

“You’re late.”

You weren’t. It was just his way of managing the emotions threatening to rise to the surface.

Opening your mouth to respond, Shadow beat you to it and spoke first. He didn't wanna waste any time.

“Why did you smile?” His tone was flat, but the question held weight. “Earlier. When I said I didn’t like his attitude.”

He didn't know how else to ask "Do you like me?" without saying it out loud. He had to get some information before proceeding with the heavier stuff.

You hesitated for a second. Did he really have to get you out here just to ask that question? You decided to tell the truth.

“Well… it was nice to be appreciated.”

That caught him off guard.

His eyes widened slightly, just enough to be noticeable. His posture tensed, but not out of anger.

You gave a small shrug, trying to play it off, but the warmth in your voice betrayed you. “Nobody really notices when you do your job right. You noticed.”

He spoke after a second of suffocating silence. “That wasn’t the intention.”

You gave him a wry look. “You almost started a fight over a burger. Kinda seemed like it?"

His eyes narrowed, something in his expression shifting. His angry defensiveness was still there, but something else also shined through his attitude. Almost like he was... flustered.

“It wasn’t about the burger.” He grumbled, his voice keeping it's harshness. The questions were too much to bear.

“Then what was it about?” You couldn't stop the question from escaping your lips.

He looked away. Not down, but to the side, like your gaze was too much to handle. You could see the war behind his eyes. He wanted to retreat, teleport out, pretend this never happened. But he couldn't. His pride wouldn't let him.

“It wasn’t about the food. It was about you not being there.” The stiffness showed in the words that came out. Clearly, he wasn't used to spilling his thoughts like that.

You didn't know how to respond. Seeing your surprised and mildly confused expression, Shadow decided to continue.

"It shouldn't matter. Your absence should not distract me. And yet," he sighed bitterly, disappointed, more so at himself. "I can't get you out of my head."

His eyes returned to meet with yours with intimidating intensity. He took a step closer. "It's pissing me off."

You almost held your breath as the hedgehog approached, quiet yet heavy steps heading your way.

He stopped just a foot away from you. The silence between you both felt too loud, the lack of any response from him only adding to the rising tension in the air.

You swallowed, trying to make sense of the situation. “So… you like me, and that’s the problem?”

Shadow's cheeks get warmer, not used to such intimate matters in regards to him. It was uncomfortable.

“I don’t like you,” he snapped quickly, like a knee-jerk reflex. Then paused. A realization. “…I mean- I don’t just like you.” He mumbled the last sentence.

“I don’t know what this is. I don’t even know what I want from you,” he kept talking, not because he wanted to, but because now that the dam got broken, he couldn't stop. “I don’t even know why it’s you. But I can't keep pretending like it doesn’t affect me.”

Your silence stretched too long due to pure astonishment, hearing the raw sincerity in the hedgehog's words, and the hope for him to say something else

Shadow just stood there. His eyes searched your face, scanning for some sign, anything, that'd show him you weren’t about to laugh, dismiss, or worse, pity him.

But in that long several seconds, you were still quiet. Shadow was not satisfied with your "um"s and "uhh"s as you looked for a response that'd convey your opinion clearly.

His patience ran out prematurely and he took a single step back. Jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides, and voice filled with furious apprehension, barely keeping his cool.

“I didn’t say all that for nothing. You heard me. Now you deal with it.”

There was no warmth in his tone. Only a brittle edge, barely holding together the storm beneath it. He wasn’t angry at you. He was bracing himself. His harsh words were a desperate plea for you to do something.

Any hint of you reciprocating, be it approaching closer, a soft smile, physical touch or telling him about your feelings would give him the push he needed.

He'd close the leftover distance between you two, gaze locked into your eyes, your face, your lips. As if in disbelief. Adrenaline coursing through him like he was in the middle of a battle. Now that his emotions were fully on display, he had a hard time stopping them. The need to make you his. To express it.

He leaned in even closer. There was no doubt what the motion meant. He was about to kiss you, yet still gave you time to reject his advances, almost like a challenge.

When you didn't pull away, his lips finally pressed into yours.

The relief was immense, pulling his emotions out like a magnet to the surface. The kiss wasn't aggressive, but it was filled with restrained desire to devour you, now that he finally won.

Alternative take: if you'd be bold enough to kiss him first as your response (or showed obvious eagerness after he kissed you first)

One moment he was staring at your pretty face, next he felt the pressure on his lips.

It took him by a surprise, making him lose his cool for a second.

But as you showed him the extend of your approval, he quickly recovered, palms clinging to your sides, pulling you even closer.

Depending on your input, the kiss could get way more heated. You got this boy in the bag. Or vice versa.

As you parted ways, Shadow's expression was less guarded. He wore a satisfied smirk that went well with the gleam in his eye.

You were officially his.

[bitchy-craft]

The Manifestation Box: Manifestation Methods

Hello and welcome to this new post of mine! I decided to make a new series, this time about manifesting methods. I hope you find this useful and enjoy.

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Subliminal Channel

What it is used for:

The Manifestation Box method is honestly used for absolutely everything, and is a great method for anything you wish to achieve. For many this method works because you use actual physical objects to define your goals; already putting the manifestation into a physical form.

Instructions:

1. Choose a box

In order to do this method you need a box; this can be any box. It doesn't need to be pretty, or big, but it can if you wish it to be (you can decorate your boc with colours, crystals and sigils to connect it more to your goal if you wish).

2. Write your desires down

Take a piece of paper, or multiple pieces of paper, and start writing down your desires, what it is you want to manifest into existence. This can be as vague and as detailed as you want; as long as you know what you want to accomplish.

3. Add symbolic items

Find items that remind you or you correspond with your manifestations; maybe you want to manifest something for school, and you can add an old schoolbook, or a lover for which you can add a picture, or something that reminds you of them, or what you did together. Anything as long as you see relation and connection with your manifestation(s).

4. Put the box away

Close the box as you keep your intentions and mind, and put the box anywhere you want, I suggest following your first thought of where to put it, since intuition often has a reason for showing up if it does.

[r0-boat]

I had a dream about this so I'm going to write some headcans about it

Reader forgetting all their memories headcannons Whb Kings

Cw: angst, hurt very little comfort,no NSFW but get suggestive because of certain people >.>, Demons trying their best, Don't worry You get some comedic relief!

Intro:

Sometimes the kings forget and are reminded how sensitive and fragile humans really are. Weather be from an angel attack or them rough housing a little too much around you. It is not unusual for you to accidentally be in the crossfire. Or whroughhousing, devils sometimes need to hold back in order to protect you from angels.

However, to these Kings who constantly love to show their power like proud peacocks with grenade launchers, They never knew this day was coming when they would look in horror at your lymph body on the ground, your head spilling blood. They're so glad that Lucifer is on their side.

But something is wrong... Lucifer healed you. But once you woke up you had this horrid and confused look on your face. The way their heart simultaneously stopped when you uttered the phrase "Who are you?"

Satan

Satan is not good with fear, to someone who wears his anger freely on his sleeve he's not good with someone who is very very frightened with his frequent angry outbursts that often turn very violent. He was lucky to have met you in a very specific situation to have you get used to as rage and be friends with him, And perhaps something more.

Poor Satan, his violent outbursts are just scaring you more So he tries so desperately to hide it. His entire body shaking because looking at you just fills in with more rage. He tries to assure you that it's not at you. But from the way he's yelling Your human brain interprets it differently Even when you don't want to.

He tries to show you around Gehenna But it seems like the only thing on your mind is The fact that hell exists and you are there.

He feels so useless watching Sitri calm you down and try to explain who are you and why are you here...Sitri can feel the quickening heartbeat of anxiety from his king and tries to make you see him in a different light. Satan is on the verge of tearing apart a building in rage because it hurts to control something that's essentially 100% a part of who he is when before you accepted him with open arms.

He feels like a monster, a feeling that he has never felt being around you and it hurts. He loves you so much and seeing your eyes filled with fear knowing that he caused it hurts him. Even now he's surprised that you come up to him when he's digging his nails into his pillow drowning in his own thoughts. Despite everything you've seen you still somehow feel and need to be close to him. You tell him that He's going too fast and You want to trust them despite... Everything because what your heart tells you doesn't lie, He just has to take it slow and give you some time.

Mammon

From what Lucifer tells him objects also help to recover one's memory. So that's what he does. Mammon has a storage 'closet' where he has little keepsakes all with stories of what he did with you and what time. His chest swells with pride as you look at his golden palace and hallways. "This isn't the first time you've seen these, master." He says with a smile as you hiss at him not to call you that.

He lets you go through the closet one by one every time you pick up or look at an item he tells a story, whether it's the two of you going out shopping or the time he finished constructing his pool that he let you name. There's something oddly calming about re-remembering his precious memories with you. That's why he has this room because every memory of you with him is precious So precious that he must materialize it and keep it. Because if he has anything to learn from a certain devil friend of his is that memories are far too fickle to not keep in physical form.

Mammon is a demon who always looks toward the future. Even now, when he is sharing with you all these memories and trying to help you regain those memories, back He's already looking toward a future solution, perhaps a photo album. It is an idea that he has not used yet, but maybe he could finally have an excuse to use those expensive cameras he has lying around collecting dust.

When he visits he always brings gifts and they are always gifts from places the two of you have either visited in the past or something that is from your memory. Perhaps chocolates from an extremely expensive chocolate store that he has brought you to.

Or maybe he shall bring you to dinner once again at an expensive restaurant he has taken you before. The Kings criticize that he is just using this as an opportunity to spoil you more than instead of actually helping. As much as he finds that insulting because he cares for you so much so that he gave his whole being and life to you but he can't deny that they're not completely wrong.

Leviathan

Leviathan is not okay.... Especially when the first 5 minute interaction you had with him ever since your memories have been wiped was him shaking you and demanding you to get your memories back all the while insulting you on how weak You are before rushing off back to Hades. So your opinion of him is sour. But his subordinate name Foras tells you that surprisingly your first meeting was far worse than this. Leviathan is under the impression that you forgotten him forever and you could never recover your memories. So it's useless to even try.

As much as you don't want to see him his subordinates urge you with begging and pleading and puppy dog eyes to please see him. You only agreed because of how nice they are. Leviathan has locked himself in his room ever since that little outburst in Paradise Lost. When he hears your hesitant voice he pauses before letting you in.

Instead of insulting you are grabbing you partially instead he walks for it to you and talks softly he sounds... Hurt. "Am I truly that forgettable to you?" You don't know why your heart softens to that perhaps it was the fact that deep inside you did feel something for him or maybe it was how kicked he looks right now, His eyes or red from crying? You smiling hold your hand over your heart and tell him the truth "I do feel a fondness for you."

If Lilith or God leave him a second chance to start your meeting all over again He'd taken it. Levi is a lot softer now for some reason that phrase very hauntingly vague yet reassuring. Maybe it's because you're speaking from the heart maybe it's because the fact that something inside you could never forget him.

He gently takes a hold of your wrists and guides your hands to cup his face or intertwine his fingers with yours as he softly asks if You felt something in your heart? Sadly no matter how much he tries In this softer more vulnerable state I don't think you could ever remember him because of most of your memories are quite negative. Just give him this... Just let him be soft and hold you as he asks how your heart feels when he does these things.

Beelzebub

It is what it is! As he introduces himself as Beelzebub to you. You forgot everything? Bro he forgets everything All the time same! It's hard not to get along with Beelzebub even if you have no memory of him He's very adamant that you know him and the two of you are besties.

He brings you to places that he's already brought you before some places he remembers vaguely others not so much. He does have a better time remembering actions or notable places better than words. So he often repeats himself. He's repeated himself so much to you that even now with your memories fuzzy or forgotten what he says to you feels so familiar. His eyes widen when he hears that under your breath because it means he must be doing something good.

The next time he swings by the castle because Bael Heard about your state and is worried sick. Beel sighs and his smile drops A smile that was performative as he speaks to his best friend from the heart.

"ya know... I'm usually always the forgetful one so I never knew how What it was like to be forgotten..." Bael felt something for his friend as he puts a hand on his shoulder. He couldn't help but rub a little salt in the wound "It hurts doesn't it?" Beel could only nod.

Even though devils can't lie, Beel feels like keeping up a smile with you is lying. But he can't stop doing it because it makes you feel calmer to know that everything is okay. You don't need to know that pain he's going through, of just realizing someone he deeply cared about just forgot everything about him, and not knowing if this was permanent or not.

Lucifer

He fixed you up. physically you were good as new... So why are your memories still broken?? He doesn't understand human psychology. Another reminder that he doesn't know everything. Another reminder that he is in hell for his pride. He can't have another incident like this again because of his incompetence.

He can't help but be happy with how many visitors you get. As much as he doesn't like how much competition he has, he can't help but be fond of how much love you get. Though he does probably have to limit visitors since he's pretty sure causing stress on a human is not good for them mentally.

He's with you 24/7 asking you little questions here and there You trust him the most because... You think he's your doctor? He was the first person you saw when you woke up and he has this aura of professionalism and mystique. It was really hard to grasp around the fact that you were in hell and everything you ever learned in the Bible was correct (somewhat) it's really hard to hate Lucifer as a concept when the man is standing right there next to you reading a book human psychology that looked about 50 years old and sipping tea like an English nobleman from the Victorian era as well as him being your doctor. If he was there to hurt you he would have done so already.

You call him Dr. Morningstar as you point out that that book might be a little too outdated. His eyes waiting for a second when you mention his 'last name' He brings the teacup up to his lips tied his smile as he corrects you to just call him Lucifer. And averts his attention to the fact that how could a book about psychology be so outdated when it's produced to not so long ago.

Turns out that not even humans know about their own psychology it's hard to say pitiful that is knowing that he knows nothing. He asks you if you would like to go to the human world to do some book shopping. You don't know why you nodded your head. As you knew that your family is dead and you have no family. But by the time you were there till the time you left you couldn't help that nagging feeling that you were forgetting somebody, somebody important. Lucifer asked about the sad and conflicted look on your face. You just shake your head and tell him "it's nothing."

Belphegor

Belphegor dreams of the past all the time, they're not pleasant dreams but they're better than nightmares. So he thinks that a good way to recover your memories is to sleep He knows that sleep at least makes you feel good and is good for the mind and the soul.

He is not very cultured on Western media, since he prefers anime and manga but he knows that those guys in the west always hold those... What are they called? *Snaps his fingers twice* before Beleth chimes in with the answer "slumber parties?"it's also a good way to get to know you more.

Even though he is just as worried about you and if you'll ever retain your memories ever again as much as the other kings but it's a waste of energy to worry about it and freak out. He'd rather just still get to know you if you recover your memories or not.

And to be frank if his genius calculation of rolling a bullshit d20 on you sleeping is correct and he probably doesn't even need to do anything except have fun nights binge watching anime or reading manga with you.

Occasionally he's still ask the question here or there. Honestly the one who is most worried is Beleth. He is relaxed but not as lax as his king. Because he knows that His king does care for you because he was there when Belphegor try to fight passing out because he knew if he woke up he wouldn't know if you were alive or dead.

Asmodeus

He washed for this event!🎉 It's because he'd rather have everyone caring for you then sucking his dick. He won't be so merciful next time (half joking)

Oh you It seemed like you forgot your memory? Well he knows a little bit more about human psychology then the doctor in front of him. And he does blatantly incompetently say that humans tend to remember unforgettable and 'traumatic experiences' More vividly then regular memories. Give him one night and you'll remember everything. (Half joking) No one found that funny.

He's so adamant that sex solves this issue!! All the other kings are basically either ignoring him or telling him the idea sucks ass. He does like it how your eyes always gaze over at him in such curiosity. You're so cute!!! With your mind wipe clean You're practically a virgin. With those wide little eyes filled with such life and innocence. Just looking at you makes him hard.

He didn't even try to stifle the laugh and smile on his face as he proudly shows you his proof that you know him with the plethora of pictures of his cock inside you or sleeping, or miscellaneous photos from either his subordinates when they hang out with you or the other kings as well as photos you have sent of yourself, that he saved in a special folder called 'fap material❤️' it's the only folder on his phone and He dodges the question every time you ask him about the folder name.

In the end he has the last laugh. literally he's on the floor wheezing, coughing and laughing. When the Kings found out that the memory start to flood back after you had sex with another devil.

[reallyromealone]

Reader is short in this

I'm fixated on this man so be warned

Malleus x male reader

Omegaverse

"Hey... We aren't trying to take your omega" Lilia said softly to his ward, Malleus holding (name) close in his arms in the depths of the dorms, (name) unconscious in his arms as the Fae prince kept him safe in his hold.

His green eyes practically glowed as he growled at his guardian "I know, he's your mate... But he needs help" (name) had bruises, having been attacked by another student when Malleus was passing by, they understood protecting him but he was treating (name) like he was his mate.

Lilia sighed as he looked at the other whom he considered his pup "your omega is injured pup, let me help" his voice soothing and calm, a tone he used when Malleus was just a hatchling and it seemed to resonate in his brain, the feral fae prince allowing Lilia to come close and inspect the Omega he claimed as his mate "good hatchling" Lilia said to his adoptive son, Malleus grunting as he watched carefully "you did so good protecting him, he only has a few bruises" nothing magic couldn't fix after all.

Malleus preened under his adoptive sires praise, fully feral as he pulled (name) back into his hold "why don't you show him your hoard? Keep him safe" Lilia said softly, watching the other take (name) into his walk in closet, the dragon fae pleased to have (name) amongst the hoard/nest.

The teachers made quick work to remove the problem student as word got around about the incident, a few witnesses seeing it, reporting it to the staff immediately.

And now they could only wait for the prince to snap out of it for the safety of (name).

When (name) woke he was surrounded by warmth and the smell of spring and campfire, sleepily snuggling into the chest of--

Looking up his eyes connected with emerald eyes, shrouded by long black strands of hair, horns stop at the base of his crown.

"H-hi?" He was confused and startled, his last memories being pinned against books and nearly assaulted "mate" Malleus said simply as he scented the Omega, nose brushing his neck lovingly. (Name) didn't know what to do, his omega soothed by the gestures that the other showed "were you the one that helped me?" (Name) asked knowing he wasn't going to get a response as he adjusted himself to look at the other clearly "thank you Malleus" he whispered and the others lizard brain slowly processed the praise and rumbled before gently nipping (name)s cheek as a form of kiss.

(Name) was thankful for health class, learning how to get an alpha out of a feral state though it was easier said than done with his nerves.

Gently he took his face in his hands and kissed him "please come back..." He was awkward as he tried to seem submissive to the other, pumping out calming pharamones to convince the other.

It took an hour before the lights turned on behind his eyes and he inspected him "thanks for helping me... Sorry I made you go feral"

"You're my mate, of course I would" Malleus said as if it were an obvious fact and (name) was confused "what are you talking about?" They weren't mates? They hadn't even spoken before this "I could sense it" malleus held (name)s hand and mumbled an incantation, the closet glowed slightly as a flower bloomed on each of their hands, identical to one another "Fae magic allows one to see their soulmate through flowers" malleus explained and (name) was in awe as the flowers disappeared like bits of shattered glass before fading out of existence "so... You want me?"

"You are my mate, why wouldn't I?" Malleus spoke like it was obvious "you will return with me to the briar valley" he said assuredly and (name) smiled "you will have to take that up with my brother" (name) said softly and Malleus tilted his head but just held him close.

Lilia smiled at his ward, weeks had passed and Malleus was giving (name) very fae like courting gifts, plants and magic items and (name) in return gave him food and scented items.

It was quite cute but (name)s older brother wasn't a fan, Leona glaring at the relationship but didn't say anything, knowing his brother was happy, the Omega having multiple sources of scary dog privileges.

And with one of the most powerful mages as a mate. Leona didn't have any particular worries.

People found it funny how (name) could be carried by his new mate, Malleus a few times draping himself over the short lion who in turn soaked up the warmth.

[apple-salad]

Not Rose Basket: An Approx. 5 Year Old Remake Project

In which I attempt to make a Rose Basket JSK.

Read below the cut for my process and crafting notes.

Did you know that all Mary Magdalene "prints" use commercial fabric excepting Perfume Bottle (their first and only original print)? What this potentially means is that scraps of fabric featuring familiar MM motifs sometimes can be found floating around. It seems like at some point, someone found the original Rose Basket fabric and had it made into a JSK (likely by the handmade Taobao store that is known for making MM replications if the buyer provides fabric) in Mary Magdalene likeness.

The resulting item was a good attempt, especially given that the maker only had tiny stock photos to work out the general shape and print placement, but definitely there was something to be desired...

When I saw this JSK for sale, I felt that I had a decent remake project on my hands. I had already been looking for MM (or MM-like) materials for a while, so I figured I had the capability to bring up the piece to its full potential. I don't usually take on larger/i.e. actual garment projects, but this piece was a very strong case for giving it a try.

However, such projects are not without their pains, aren't they? Even with some semblance of a garment existing in the form of this dress, one may as well have been starting from scratch.

Unfortunately I didn't take many photos of the "before" dress so the pictures I do have don't really give it a fighting chance (it's so wrinkly and overexposed), but the shape was pretty much all wrong. However, it had good bones due to good fabric being used, and I knew I could make it better.

Laid flat and from afar, the JSK actually looks okay but there are numerous areas where it falls short. I'll talk about them shortly.

I was initially pretty excited to work on this project, so I pretty much seam ripped it apart right away after receiving it. Little did I know it would sit in parts in a bag for years...

Part 1: Trying to remember what I was doing 5 years ago

In terms of materials, I searched within Japan/Japanese sources using Mary Magdalene's original material terminology as reference. Unfortunately it had seemed that the original "shirurido" lining material had been discontinued, but it had a successor material that was almost identical when I bought a small amount, so that ended up not being a worry. The original lining is a little bit offwhite/ivory, so I purchased white lining and tea-dyed it. This colour will likely lighten as I wash it.

Many think that this light lining material that MM often uses ("for spring and summer" garments) is cotton, but it is actually 100% polyester! However, it does have a great hand feel and seems to have wicking properties as well, so there's no reason to discredit this poly.

Oddly, the wine rose basket specifically uses this kind of more chunky/slightly less structured braid. The other 3 colorways use a firmer type with the same wavy style. I managed to find a shop that carried both types and just bought as much as I felt was appropriate.

I was actually told that the firmer braid had been discontinued (which maybe explained why MM chose a different one for wine--there wasn't any stock of the other braid in red?) at the time (this was ~2017), but currently as far as I know the loose braid has actually been completely discontinued now and another company has picked up selling the firmer braid (maybe the machine that makes it was purchased by another company).

Dot tulle was thankfully not difficult to find. The colour matches perfectly, so I knew I had the right one 🙂

Now, let's break down the original dress.

Note that I did have the original Rose Basket (in a different colour) to use as a reference, which helped immensely.

The silhouette is obviously not quite right, although attempts were made to match seams similar to the original. The measurements are also different (likely made to match the buyer's requested dimensions) with the bodice being a little bigger. The skirt is also shorter, but I think that is just a mistake of the original seamstress.

The tulle is not very nice/cheap looking and the lace is also totally wrong. Those definitely had to go, so ripping off the lace and taking off the lining was first priority.

The lining material was a light cotton. It was okay, but cotton lining doesn't have the slipperiness of the original lining fabric so I preferred replacing it.

The lining and skirt lining would be completely remade from scratch, but obviously since I only had a dress' amount of original rose basket fabric, I would have to use what I had.

I initially focused on the skirt because it was the easiest portion to tackle as a pleated rectangle.

The original dress had the tulle sewn/serged onto the main fabric. This is...you could say, "incorrect", and changes the way the tulle sticks out of the skirt (as you can see in the comparison pictures), so I opted to just cut it off as closely to the serged edge as possible. It seemed sensible to leave the edge alone (rather than rip out the serging) since at the time I didn't have a serger of my own and the edge being already hemmed is convenient.

The original dress uses some kind of serged edge+blind hem stitch, while the replica more lazily folded over the bottom edge and used a line of stitching to secure both the braid/lace and the hem.

When comparing the length of the skirt to the original rose basket, the replica actually has more fabric folded into the seam due to the method used. Thankfully, the length of fabric used for the skirt was actually pretty much perfect when using the old hem fold and I guess the shorter appearance may have been due to other factors (cut of the bodice and length of tulle lace used maybe?).

Because it was easy to leave things as-is, I used this same hem fold and sewed the new braid onto the hem with two lines of regular straight stitch for security (two lines of stitching are consistently used on MM garments to secure braid or lace, although some older items may only have one line).

(I actually made a mistake here which I'll get back to later)

I attempt to use a method similar to MM to create the skirt lining layer. Dot tulle is cut into strips, gathered carefully (I don't have a ruffle foot so I used 2 lines of straight stitch+gather by hand since it tends to gather more evenly and look nicer than using only one, and I wanted to use some care here) and then attached to the skirt lining.

Without a serger, I used my machine's hemming stitch (it's a bit ugly, but it worked okay) and then topstitched the ruffle flat.

I also tried to take advantage of the lining selvedges so I wouldn't have to hem. Any extra fabric with raw edges I had to sew on to match the hem circumference of the original lining also was roughly machine hemmed.

The dot tulle doesn't need to be hemmed, but MM has neatly clipped the bottom edges of any tulle seams so the seam looks cleaner, therefore I did the same. (Sorry the picture seems to have turned out a bit blurry)

I can't really remember well, but I think it was at this point that I initially thought my job was done until I realized that the replica dress' pleats did not line up properly with the original. The widths were all wrong, possibly because the original seamstress had to make some modifications to the skirt pleat proportions to match the adjusted bodice measurements?

The skirt circumference and the way the fabric is cut for the skirt is somewhat different from the original dress, so I had to do some careful adjusting to get the pleats to have the same width and overall appearance as the original dress. I think some of the pleats are not as deep as they should be but you can't really tell with the final result. Such is the trouble when you have to work with what you have and there is no extra fabric available!

It was at this point that I took a break from the project because the bodice was next and that was, of course, a very daunting task. I think I had marked out some seam lines for adjustment on the front piece, and I had also decided that the back piece could remain sewn to the side back portions since they weren't too far off from the original appearance (the original back panel is actually only one piece of fabric with darts--the seamstress of the replica had used 3 separate panels for the back instead, so there are inevitable differences).

I also spent some time making new bows for the rose basket as I was not satisfied with the ones included with the dress. I don't have any pictures, but I dyed cotton sateen dark wine and that was a huge pain since red is a very tough colour to dye. I also made some mistakes with my bow making method (they were initially interfaced and used too much fabric in the middle which made them look too thick), so they were also left as unfinished pieces for a while.

Anyway, many years pass...

Part 2: The revisit

I would like to think I am maybe older and wiser 5 years on, with a more sewing expertise, but I'm not really convinced about that. Anyway, maybe I was better equipped for trying to adapt the bodice because I have a mannequin now.

I had previously had a bit of trouble fussing with the curves of the bodice flat with my fabric pieces, so I threw my mint rose basket on the mannequin and tried to match the seams carefully. Although...this mannequin might have been a tiny bit busty for rose basket and deformed the shape a bit.

Apologies for the cutout PNGs from here on out, the background was way too chaotic for me to let you see it.

It is at this point that I am wanting to put the project down again and really not enjoying working on this because trying to gain a rough pattern, and carefully match seams is not very fun and rather exhausting, requiring a lot of back and forth checking things and making sure I don't mess anything up.

After marking seams and having some confidence in the shape, I sew the front back to the sides again.

Thankfully, it seems like the pieces have enough fabric to create an original-looking bodice, but I suppose that was my expectation given that the original bodice measurements were a little larger than the actual MM dress. It's interesting to see where the original pattern cuts differ compared to how they should look and be sewn.

My first attempt at sewing the front together had a little too much of the print stripes showing at the sides, so I brought them in a little and tried again. When scrutinizing where the print is placed relative to the seams of the original JSK it once again becomes clear where the pattern cuts were a little off in the replica, but it isn't too bad and I think this result is almost indistinguishable.

There is a decent few centimetres of excess fabric at the sides (which was completely expected as the extra bodice room of the inital dress had to go somewhere), but I avoided cutting it down because it's precious extra fabric...

The only real modification the back needed was some small adjustment of the corset loops. I think I had also previously increased the seam at the very bottom of the back side panels because the original dress has this kind of "widening" (circled parts) that gives it a slight dropped waist.

I check both front and back portions, and when I am satisfied with the result I sew one of the side seams together.

Pretty much a completed bodice, the other side seam is left alone for now since zipper insertion will come last.

I can sew on the braid now. It is at this point while I am looking at the braid and realizing that is has a "right side" that I seem to have sewn the braid onto the skirt wrong (those many years ago...)

A 50% chance of getting it right and it was wrong!

While I'm sure a regular person would not care, I felt that it was worth repairing the mistake so the dress could be as close to the original as possible.

Fixed trim on the right.

I spent a few grueling hours ripping out the braid and reattaching it in the same method as before.

Braid also attached to the bodice.

I am wishing I had a complete dress by now, but unfortunately not...getting the bodice lining sorted is next...

MM's Rose Basket has a facing using printed fabric, however since I have no extra fabric to use for it and the dress I was working with didn't bother with adding that kind of detail (the original lining was just plain cotton with no facing panels at all) I decided to use this untextured rose basket fabric.

I originally considered just using the same lining fabric for the facing panel but seeing the dress laid flat with a matching printed facing is a detail that somehow enhances my enjoyment of looking at it a lot.

This fabric is from a reprint of the rose basket fabric from a couple years ago. It is also discontinued now but is very lackluster compared to the older fabric in my opinion. It is a rather thin quilting cotton and doesn't seem as vibrant as the original fabric, and has slightly different contrast colours. While you could still make a garment with it, I feel like it doesn't match up to the fabric used on the old rose basket because of the new fabric's sheerness.

However, given fabric supply limitations (i.e. I don't have anything) I think it's a decent nod to maintaining having self-fabric for the facing and will not be seen when worn.

Lining pieces are similar to the bodice pieces I traced out earlier so I used them as a reference and checked the shape with the lining panels on the original dress (on my mannequin).

The back lining seems to have a centre back seam as opposed to the outer fabric layer that had no seam/darts, and is made from 4 panels total.

Lining complete.

Next I attach the bodice lining to the main bodice piece, along with the straps. I mark where the straps should go based on my reference rose basket, sandwich them between the bodice pieces, pin and sew.

I left the straps as-is from the original replica dress. These are made from two strips of fabric sewn on each side, vs MM having used one strip and folding it in half. Just a different way of achieving the same thing, I guess. Of course I would have preferred the method to be "same as the original" but once again, no extra fabric... (I think I may have asked my SS to ask the seller if they had any extra and to include it if so, and the seller said they didn't have any...)

I also sew an elastic channel (sort of like topstitching) all the way along the top of the bodice about 1cm wide for later.

At this point I think that I seem to have pleated my skirt lining wrong. however, I may have just misinterpreted the other side of the lining pleats as the side that was "wrong", so I ended up having to repleat multiple times in my own confusion.

[it hurt itself in its confusion!]

Anyways, after that fiasco I baste the pleats down and attach the skirt lining to the bodice lining so I can check the length.

It's coming together!

I sew the outer skirt to the outer bodice fabric next, a step that makes me very nervous because if the seam shaping is wrong I feel that it could mess up the silhouette of the dress quite severely. To try to diminish this, I baste the bodice in sections to the skirt by hand, frequently checking beside the original dress.

I ended ripping out my basted skirt pleats and re-pleating the entire back because I didn't feel like the pleats were aligning well.

After sewing the outer skirt to the bodice, I once again check that the lining length is okay (it was a bit too long at the back), finish inner seams etc.

I added the elastic to the channel I added earlier now. Unfortunately I think I should have encased the elastic while stitching in the channel because it was a huge pain to get distributed properly and I had to unpick some sections to get the elastic to spread out and then carefully try to invisibly re-stitch. The elastic is gathered more around the armpits/sides than the front and back.

Last task is attaching the zipper. The dress has a completely encased invisible zipper with no zipper tape edge showing from the inside. It seemed like the lining was sewn on separately after the main fabric was sewn to the zipper, but I ended up folding over and seaming the inside by hand because it seemed too complicated for me to sew the lining to the zipper cleanly with my machine at my current ability level.

Zipper attached, definitely a lackluster job... I don't have a proper zipper foot and the cheap plastic invisible zipper foot I have is definitely not helping with keeping the zipper allowance even. I hope to fix the skirt seam alignment issue here and sew the zipper seam (especially near the top) closer to the fabric, but I'm not entirely sure if I'll ever be motivated to do that since the dress is now "wearable".

I actually also carelessly clipped the excess zipper tape at the top thinking that was what I should be doing even though it seems like MM has cleanly folded it in on the original dress 😢 (can't attach a photo as I'm pushing the post image limit as it is)

Since it was kind of getting down to the wire to the day I wanted to wear this dress, that was when I roughly finished/handsewed the lining to the zipper tape on the inside so the dress can be worn without any terrible consequences. What I should do next is fold in all the upper seams nicely, actually machine sew the lining to the zipper tape so the seam is clean, sew in a hook and eye to the top of the zipper, and add threads to secure the lining to the inside of the skirt + loops for the ribbon belt, but as of now that has not been done.

Dress finished (?) (how does it look beside the real rose basket now...?)

Unfortunately, I feel like I'm not entirely satisfied with how this turned out because although I had tried hard (especially at the beginning) to have clean work, as the project went along I think a lot of places ended up sloppy (like stitching lines on the inside), and the final piece still didn't end up exactly like the original (the bodice seems to be a little shorter somehow but I had no extra fabric especially along the side panels to make it longer, so I think it's a point that I can eventually accept).

Anyway...to finish off I finally add the lacing ribbons and prepare the detachable ribbons.

For the bows + ribbon belt, I have a length of cotton satin ribbon and finished off the bow brooches I started previously. For whatever reason, mint rose basket has burberry material bows, but I believe all the other colourways use sateen bows so I used cotton sateen for these. The original wine dress did come with a long, wide poly satin ribbon and two detachable small ribbons, but I have no idea where I put those relative to the dress and I didn't really like the way they looked anyway.

I took my old handmade bows apart to fix their dimensions (they were slightly too long) and also fixed how the middle fabric was folded, and then sewed them to some nice sharp brooch backs.

While ironing, I noticed that apparently I didn't rinse the fabric well after dying and adding water made the bows bleed. Not great. (I later soaked them in dye fixative and the bleeding issue seems to be better now)

These pictures use the bows from my Valeria JSK (which seem to be approximately the same wine tone), but it's always nice to have a separate set for each dress. I may remake yet another set of bows with a different cotton satin (slightly thinner, not self-dyed) eventually.

Finished, or at least as finished as things are going to get for now.

As I will be wearing this JSK in future outfits, I'm a bit torn as to how I will tag and label it in posts. The design for sure is Mary Magdalene's, and this dress is a big tribute to it, but it's also definitely handmade and not legitimate MM. I'm actually not even confident about labeling it handmade by myself because I didn't technically hand make all 100% of it (at this point, only the initial cutting out of pieces was not my own, but somehow this lack of initial patterning and cutting step bothers me and makes me feel like I didn't put in all the work a handmade piece usually would be). I will probably have a hard time not adding some additional comments each time it comes to adding a label to it in future photos.

Anyways, now I have Rose Basket at home.

Thank you if you read all the way to the end like this!

[en-gelic]

attention please! ⭑ 엔하이픈

syn. when they want your attention. gn. , fluff ⋆ wc 1.6k ! warnings. skinship, kisses ₊‧ଳ you give me butterflies, you know? 💭 BOOKSHELF! 𓇼

🗯 taglist : @cholexc @07sleepykatz @seunghancore (ask or comment to be added !) © en-gelic 2024.

Huffing in irritation, Lee Heeseung waved his hand in front of your face in attempt to get your attention. Holding in your smile, you listened as he entered the kitchen, angrily mumbling to himself. He was silent for a while as you held back the urge to break your act and turn to look at what he was doing. After a few more minutes, he appeared with a cocky smile plastered on his face and sitting beside you. You continued scrolling through your phone, brushing away your curiosity even as his hand moved to your leg, his fingers drawing circles on your thigh. You held your breath as he moved your body effortlessly onto his lap. Tugging your phone out of your hands, you felt his hand move to the small of your back, pulling you towards his lips, tempting you to kiss him. Noticing how you weren't going to stop acting, he moved to your neck and left a trail of kisses, stopping abruptly once he realised you were enjoying it. "Why did you stop?" You pouted, forgetting all about your prank. His lips pulled into a grin. "Only good girls get rewards."

"Baby, I'm going out, do you need anything?" Park Jongseong asked as he walked into the bathroom where you were putting on your makeup. You continued humming as you attempted to ignore him. Thinking you didn't hear him he repeated the question. Seeing your lack of response, he chuckled sardonically and sauntered out of the bathroom. The moment he left, you looked behind you, curious to know the reason behind his amusement. You heard his footsteps strolling into the bedroom as he opened your closet. "No, she doesn't need it." He said over the phone as he pulled out your Prada bag. "She's clearing out her closet so she's giving it for free." Your head snapped back as he pulled out another one of your beloved designer items. "When do you want it? We ship anytime." He made small humming sounds in agreement as you rushed out of the bathroom. Pulling the phone out of his hands, you brought it to your ear. "Sorry, we're out of business. We don't sell anymore, bye bye." As you rushed to hang up you noticed that his phone had been on the lockscreen instead of being on a call. Realising his tactic, you sheepishly handed him his phone. "Sorry." You said as he hummed in agreement, "Next time I'll really sell them if you do that again." 💭 more under the cut !

"Look at me." Sim Jaeyun whined as you bit back a grin at his irritation. You rolled over to your side as his arms followed your waist, pulling you back to him. You thought the prank wasn't going to work when he started placing kisses all over your neck and face. Surprisingly, you didn't move even though his ticklish kisses usually make you squirm. You turned to grab your phone as a form of distraction as he sighed again. He sat up as you kept your eyes glued to the phone. Pulling your head to his lap, his hands moved to your scalp, massaging your head. His massage made your fingers halt in satisfaction as you relaxed almost instantly. He continued, moving his fingers down your neck where he heard you complain the most about pain. Your eyes closed as the feeling of sleep washed over you, dozing off before you could stop yourself. When your eyes fluttered open, you saw him grinning down at you, his hands gently patting your hair. "Now do I exist?" He asks, waiting for your reply as you shot up from his lap. He pulled you down again and watched you smile up at him. You took his face in your hands and pulled him to your own, locking his lips with yours the way he continuously urged you to after watching the spiderman movie. Pushing his face back up, you watched him lean back down. Shooting up from his lap, you moved out of his reach and said a quick 'Sorry' before running out of the room; the boy following immediately demanding a longer kiss as an apology.

Silence filled the room as Park Sunghoon eyed you irritably. You had been trying to get his reaction to you ignoring him, but it had only been silence. Hours later, when you had gotten sick of being quiet you glanced at him on phone smiling to himself. "Sunghoon." You called, moving over to him and shaking his arm. "Sunghoon." You repeated waiting for his reaction. He looked up comically, turning his head around. "I wonder who's calling me." He hummed, looking down at his phone again. You called his name repetitively with no avail. Finally realising what he was looking for, you sighed and turned his head towards you. "Baby." You said, watching as he grinned, flashing his perfect teeth at you. "That's what I was looking for." "How could you backfire my prank?" You complained bitterly, letting go of his face and laying down on the couch. "That doesn't sound like a sorry." You sighed and muttered a quick apology, glancing up at him to see his reaction. "Don't I deserve more than that?" He asked again, moving to hover over you. He leaned down, hovering his lips over yours before finally pressing them together. When he pulled back, his lips were shiny with the lip gloss you had on as you held back your laughter. You didn't mention it until he gave a suitable apology to backfiring your prank, which meant his money being spent on half the Chanel store.

Finding you seated in your room you didn't look up when he bustled in, excitedly telling you about his idea for the evening which involved the both of you trying the new products he got. "Are you even listening?" Kim Sunoo asked as he shook his hand in front of your face. Noticing your lack of reaction, he smiled to himself, knowing what you were trying to do but pretending to be ignorant. He shook your shoulders a few more times until he picked you up and led you to the bathroom. You relented motionlessly and allowed him to drag you into the room. He set you up on the counter and got out the products he was mentioning before. Opening 4 packets at once, he prepared to mount them unto your face. You hadn't expected him to actually do it, seeing as he cared more about your face than you cared about your own, until he began pressing them onto your face adding moisturizing cream in between the masks like glue. After he was satisfied with his work, he got out some nail polish you left on the counter before you decided to get a manicure at the nail salon instead. He got the others that were in his reach and pressed the brushes together to create an unpleasant colour. The tip of the brush barely reached your finger before you stopped him. He pulled a fake face of irritation, teasing you. "So now you want to talk?" You beamed at his irritation, pulling him into a kiss he quickly reciprocated, forgetting about his anger. You broke the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Do you forgive me now?" You ask, lightly tying his hair into two pigtails so he wouldn't notice. "Fine, but only because you asked nicely." You grinned and jumped off the counter, disappearing into the room, cheekily giggling at his hair. He glanced at the mirror and pulled a face, running to follow you asking for another apology.

He had been watching you get ready, asking you questions you had no reply to, thinking you were just being quiet because you were focused. "Are you hungry?" Yang Jungwon asked as he walked behind you, his hand finding the small of your back, rubbing it gently. You fought the urge to pull a face of sadness and tell him it was a prank, but you fixed your emotions as he stood around waiting for your reply. Quietly, he took one of your hairbrushes and began brushing your hair lightly as you watched from the reflection on the mirror. You stopped applying your makeup and smiled, crumbling at his sweetness. He looked up and smiled back at you, his dimples pressing into his cheeks. "What?" He asked, confused as to why you were smiling. You turned to face him, your hands wrapping around his waist. "You're just so sweet." You squished your cheek against his chest as he reciprocated the action, patting your hair. "So are you, my love." He beamed, "What do you want to eat?" He asked, as you smiled again, the prank failing miserably.

"So this is what you're going to do?" Nishimura Riki asks you as you pretend not to see him, focusing on the dishes you were finishing. You hummed to yourself, pressing more soap from the dispenser. You felt the taller boy shift behind you and wrap his arms around your waist. He stood unmovable for a while, no matter how many times you tried to shake him off. His breath was ticking your neck and collarbone as you tried not to giggle at the feeling, cursing yourself for being so ticklish. You focused on washing the utensils instead, not giving in to the boys' teasing antics. Finding that his breathing wasn't working, he resorted to an even quicker method of tickling your stomach which sent your laughter erupting through your lungs immediately. You struggled out his grasp as you regained your composure, wiping the tears off your face. Before you could say anything, he squished your face, leading your lips into a pout. He pressed his lips onto yours making the loud smacking sound you hated the most. You cringed slightly at his grin then turned your face into a fake pout. "How come it didn't work?" You whined as you turned back to the sink. "Don't question my intellect." He joked, moving over to help you finish up.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Idk if requests are open but if they are may I request a Mammon x plus sized curvy reader with AuHDHD if that's alright?

Oh… darn. Well, Mammon probably won’t be lenient or nice about it. He is that type of guy so whilst he’s a bit offensive, I hope it’ll be okay. I’m not personally mocking being plus sized or having AuHDHD, I just doubt Mammon would be nice about it at first— but anyway

Mammon- Greatest Self

Straight up… Mammon is pretty goddamn crude and a big selfish bastard. He doesn’t apologise for anything he does and he doesn’t regret being judgemental or discriminative since he only cares for himself

So, when he sees you… a ‘unappealing plus sized brat with a fucked up head’ that’s apparently his new employee, has him apathetic and disinterested so he doesn’t even care to be nice nor ease up his toxicity as your boss

Mammon didn’t really fear insulting your physical body or your psychological issues. He finds both of them very annoying and he cannot bring himself to be patient with you, so for the first few months he had you hired. He treated you badly…

However, for the first time in his life, the Sin of Greed… genuinely felt something bad for somebody else upon making his nasty remarks when he saw the way you were upset over him

Mammon doesn’t know why but he ended up changing his attitude with you since he couldn’t take the sharp stabs in his heart anymore! He can’t insult you without hurting himself. Eventually, he completely silences his bad treatment and tries his best to compliment you

Mammon actually really don’t believe that disorders exist at all and when you, when gaining back trust to your Circus-decored sin boss, explain what AuHDHD is… he does his end to not laugh at the nonsense and listens up. He doesn’t get all this medicine and this treatments yet he keeps trying to understand you anyway

Mammon likes his people attractive and thin and curvy. Whilst he doesn’t think plus sized is attractive at first, he also thinks that there is a POSSIBLE chance that a plus sized curvy person can be hot and eventually, he does view you that way… your plush curves is soft and squishable

Honestly, he thirsts over you like crazy. Mammon loves to kiss and suck your soft plus-sized belly and waist. Feel your bigger thighs and your nice thick ass… he loves the same you feel, you’re amazing and he basically pants over your body

This is a lot less sexual but romantic passion, Mammon doesn’t find anybody sexually thriving but romantically thriving. It’s why he likes your body, he likes to dress you up and put you nice clothing and shoes… oh, it makes him flutter!

Don’t worry, Mammon will NEVER let anybody insult your body or your conditions! He did previously but he doesn’t anymore since you’re now his beloved partner so if anybody even dares to make fun of you, he’ll devour them whole with no hesitation whatsoever

NOBODY hurts his beloved little kitten!

Mammon is the type of pampering lover, he enjoys giving you all kinds of wonderful presents and items pretty much 24/7 since his love language is in the form of ‘receiving gifts’. It’s spoiling but it’s his best strength, getting the best things since whilst he hates spending money. He’ll spend it on him and you

Mammon is not usually a patient man at all but he is always doing his best for you since he has some weird obsession over you that he can’t explain at al! He does his best to be patient with your conditions and understand your different attitudes aren’t intentional… even if your tones may offend him

Mammon may like you a lot but he is still a awfully greedy money-eyed prick so he’ll market you in whatever your best skill is so he can profit from it but he will gladly give you… a proportion of that income gain. He only slightly exploits you where he exploits everybody 100%

Mammon enjoys having you match him in clothing or accessorises! So, he likes to get you to wear whatever he is at the time, I’m afraid you’ll have to get use to this little cute thing until he gets bored of it… which will probably take some time so he’ll make you his Mini Me and admire how cute you look!

Mammon treats you like a Prince/Princess/Royal amongst the workplace so you get special privileges, and his employees do as you want when you want by his command. If you’re hungry, they give you food first. If you need time alone to handle your AuDHD, they are to leave right away

Mammon personally doesn’t think you need to do anything for anybody else so when you tell him, after a long day, about people saying you need to lose your weight. He’ll basically say; ‘you don’t need to change for anybody’ but if you ever want to change your plus-sized form, he’ll be there to support you… in the most Mammon way

Now. To top up your relationship with the Aussie Greed King, Mammon is not the most perfect boyfriend and he’s always trying to improve his ugliest traits to not hurt your feelings so he needs time but he does love you and he’ll show it

“Eh? Do’n wan’a perform this year, babe? Ya’d make a’ adorable one, ya know. Crikey, crikey. Ay, I was just saying, doll… don’t need to hiss at me like that. Lucifer’s will. Would ma’ performin’ with ya help at all?”

[peekofhistory]

I just want to say, before anything else, that I love your blog! It's so helpful to me when I write things. I'm also sorry for how long this ask is going to be. I normally ask anonymously but it won't let me put the photo in.

I really like this hanfu set but I don't know exactly what dynasty it's from, or even if it's actually historically accurate.

I also wanted to ask about the hanfu from Flourished Peony, and how accurate they are. Specifically that one pink round-collar hanfu Mudan wears when she's getting flowers from the mountain that I thought was a men's item, rather than a women's one.

Sorry about the long ask!

Going to answer both of these together since they're about the same show.

About the hanfu in the picture, this is a Ruqun (襦裙) set from the Weijin. The biggest giveaway is the stripe at the sleeves (it looks like 2 stripes but I have another pic of this outfit and you can see it's actually 1 decorative stripe with two bright borders). Also, if you look at this pic below with it untucked in the skirt, you can kind of see that there's a horizontal piece of fabric along the waist area.

If you take a look at my post about the Ruqun (here) you'll see an artefact that's very similar.

For Flourished peony, I'm only going to comment on the hanfu as I don't have enough knowledge about Tang dynasty hair or makeup right now to make any judgements. I'm also not looking at the patterns on the fabrics, I'm literally only looking at the styles of the clothing themselves.

Disclaimer, I haven't watched the show. These photos are from Google and Baidu promotional pics, and I did click through a few eps to take screencaps.

And if anyone has a screencap of, or can let me know which episode, the "pink round-collar hanfu Mudan wears" that's mentioned in the ask I'd really appreciate it (I tried looking for it but couldn't find it T__T)

Looking briefly through some of the posts regarding this show, it seems the production team put a lot of effort into recreating the Tang Dynasty aesthetic, from costumes to props (there are some people who have found props and matched them to museum pieces). For the most part, the clothing seems appropriate for the time period, the only nitpick I'll do is that it seems to mix together clothing styles from early Tang all the way to late Tang (but the show isn't set in a specific period of the Tang Dynasty, so they can kind of get away with that).

Most of the men seem to wear the round-collar robes that was most common during the Tang Dynasty (my post on it here).

This style of qixiong dress (over-bust dress) seems to be most common in this show, and definitely a staple for women's hanfu during the Tang Dynasty.

If you look at the width of her sleeve here, it doesn't appear very wide. Sleeve width became wider and wider during the Tang Dynasty, so looking at these sleeves it seems more early-going-into-Gold-era Tang (my post on Gold-era Tang hanfu here).

This style looks more early-Tang with the very form-fitted sleeve and the non-qixiong skirt. I can't see clearly the pattern of her dress here, but early Tang skirts often had alternating coloured blocks on their skirts (called jianqun/间裙子)(my post on early Tang here and here).

I can't tell clearly if this dress is a qixiong dress, or a hezi dress. Hezi dresses so far are not backed by any artefacts, there are rumours of its existence but nothing has been unearthed to verify it (someone asked me about this, I posted on it here).

Looking at the long outer robe with the wide sleeve, even if this was a qixiong dress, this would be late Tang, edging into the Five Dynasties post-Tang (my post on this here).

In the first pic, the two maids are wearing outfits that are very typical in early Tang. The collars, the little vest/half-sleeve of the shirt, etc.

I'll nitpick that historically, Chinese capes did not have hoods attached. They came separately.

You can see in this pic (from the 1987 Dream of the Red Chambers), the woman is wearing her cape, the man is holding the hood for her.

My personal theory is because of the various hair styles women have, and the various hats/guan (head pieces) men wear, a separate hood offered more flexibility. Like in this pic from Romance of the Three Kingdoms (1994), he's wearing a very tall guan so trying to fit it under a hood that's attached to the cape would be difficult. But this is all just my guesses, don't quote me xD

This maid is wearing a round-collared robe usually associated with men, but actually during the Tang Dynasty it wasn't uncommon for women to wear this style of robe as well.

This man has half the robe on, the other half off his shoulder, displaying the half-sleeve underneath. This was a common way men wore their robes in casual situations (it looks like he's hunting) (my post on this here).

I took this screenshot because you can see the difference in lengths between these two men's robes. One is calf-length, one is ankle-length. Men's robes also got longer as time went on during the Tang Dynasty. It's possible this servant is wearing a shorter robe to make walking easier, but going by the length of the man in red, this should be at least late-Tang Dynasty (post mentioning robe length here).

This outfit's sleeve is very wide, indicating later in the Tang Dynasty. I think people believe form-fitted sleeves were more for younger girls, servants, or women of lower class who had to work and large, wide sleeves were for higher-level women or older women who sat around all day. In actuality, sleeve width was an indication of time period during the Tang Dynasty (for both men and women).

This look is straight out of a Dunhuang Buddhist donor mural. They painted these to commemorate people who were devoted to Buddhism and/or gave a lot of offerings, you can find these murals at the Mogao Caves in Dunhuang City today (my post on this here).

I know I said I wouldn't discuss hair but just this one, since it's such an iconic look for the Tang Dynasty. This hairstyle is a clear replica of the Ladies with Flower in their Hair painting (簪花仕女图), but they've changed the clothing. This painting was originally believed to be from the Golden-era or Mid-Tang, but in recent years historians believe it's more likely to be late-Tang or Five Dynasties (possibly even Song Dynasty) painted. Even in China a lot of people still associate it with the Tang Dynasty.

So overall, the show's production team clearly did research to replicate Tang Dynasty clothing. For the most part, they did a good job, no cross-dynasty clothing being tossed around. There's a bit of mish-mash for which period of the Tang Dynasty the clothing's from, but that's not a huge issue. Given some of the crazy costumes that's come out of period dramas in recent years, big applause to the production team to the costuming department.

【EDIT March 6, 2025】 @/time-is-a-communist-construct sent me a pic of the pink robe they mentioned in the original ask:

During the Tang Dynasty it actually wasn't uncommon for women to wear men's clothing, such as this round-collared robe. This trend initially started in the imperial palace, before spreading to others outside the court, only fading away at the end of the Tang Dynasty:

[pedgito]

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 | Javier Pena x fem!reader

summary | your boyfriend delivers the worst news possible on what should be a day filled with love. luckily your coworker is there in wait, not allowing a perfectly good dinner reservation to go to waste. [2.5k]

content warning | this is probably the tamest thing i've ever written, who am i? mostly fluff, vague descriptions of your boyfriend (technically ex-boyfriend/some misogyny (not by javi), small age gap, co-workers, dinner dates and more, unrequited (innocent) crushes, minimal spanish (mostly just pet names), open-ended

author’s note | @pascalispretty happy valentines day!! this is my first time doing one of these and i was your secret valentine, but i hope you enjoy! i haven't written for javi in so long and i was really craving some soft!javi so this was a joy to write. i hope you enjoy!

You hated the stigma around holidays and what they meant, what they entailed, and why people upheld them so highly. But, here you were—tapping your fingers insistently against the desk across from the pool of DEA agents who would throw a file of paperwork on your desk and expect it to magically poof away and, by default, relinquish themself of any responsibility over it in the process.

You couldn’t fault them all—some of them actually managed to follow instructions. A signature here and there, all in order, leaving with little work to do other than file it away. Murphy followed it to a degree that made you think he probably has some time of background outside of here, back in the states. Always uniform, always proper—he’d been a good addition from the start and a perfect match to Javier Pena’s strong personality and unwillingness to give up control.

He also smiled at you every morning and offered a kind greeting, a small acknowledgment of your existence which couldn’t be spared by many others.

As for Javier—he did the work. There was never an issue, but halfway through an expository to a question he asks his attention is drawn elsewhere. Usually to one of the other few in-office secretaries or visitors that just couldn’t resist a bite at the overconfident and suave agent.

You could see the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had to like it—sometimes it impeded your ability to communicate with him and it really, really annoyed you.

Plus, your boyfriend was perfect. Too perfect that it felt unreal at times, but as all things in your life tended to implode on you—you were waiting for the ball to drop.

“Buenos días, señorita.” Javier greets with a smile that shines perfectly under his thick mustache, dressed in his usual pairing of tight jeans and form-fitting button up. This one was pink though, or a deep red. Jesus, how many different ones did he own?

You snort softly, “Morning, Javi.”

And you’re expecting that crisp folder to slide onto your desk but he’s traversing down the steps into the bay of other desks, straight for his. He’s still in eyeline, his and Steve’s shared workspace right in the center.

His eyes flit up briefly, scanning the room before they land on you again and of course you’re staring, but not for the reasons he’s assuming. And there’s a fierceness behind your eyes that he’s seen before, like he’s about to be lectured.

You grab at an empty file on your desk and hold it up lazily, eyebrows raising in expectation. 

“Oh shit,” He curses lowly, but not soft enough for you to miss before he’s reaching in his desk and holding up the paperwork, “Here—I’ve got it.”

You pluck the item from his grip as he approaches, this time lingering. He’s got his fingers spread out wide on your desk and he leans, practically towers as you sift through his work quietly before jotting something down on a separate sticky note and filing it away for the time being.

“Sorry, bonita,” He apologized, some sincerity in his voice, “I stayed late last night and finished it up but you were already gone—I don’t forget, you know that.”

“All good,” You offer a polite smile and he still doesn’t move, nodding kindly to a few women that pass by, seemingly more done-up than usual, “big plans tonight?”

A man like Javier, there was no way he spent Valentine's Day alone.

Javier offers a non-commital shrug and nods his head in your direction, “What about you? You got that boyfriend, right? Kid with the glasses?”

And okay, Javier was a good chunk older than you. Ten years, maybe. But, kid? Please.

“Yes, that kid.” You roll your eyes light-heartedly. “Um, I reserved a table for dinner at that restaurant Steve recommended a couple months ago. The one he took Connie to.”

“Yeah—yeah, I know that place.” Been a few times, it lingers on his tongue. It didn’t matter if he went alone, the food was decent enough. “You made the reservation?”

“Come on, Javi,” You slap at his forearm gently, “It's not that big of a deal—besides I just…need a break. I thought dinner would be nice.”

“You know I can’t judge you for living at this place,” Javier says around a soft chuckle, “I’m guilty of it too.”

Many nights spent stuck in the office with just you and Javier—the occasional appearance of Steve. It led you to learn a few things about the men, even if inadvertently.

When leads were dry, Javier will go through half a pack in a day and Steve would chew at his fingernails almost constantly, tapping and fidgeting nearly nonstop. They both had obvious tells—a more obvious one for Javier being the close-mouthed smile he gave to women he wasn’t interested in but still remained polite to while the other, the unabashed grin was reserved for the women who piqued his interest.

He's given you both, but that was beside the point. 

“Any recommendations?” You ask curiously, fidgeting with the plastic clip on your pen.

Javier considers it briefly, lips pursing together as he taps his pointer finger in thought, “Well, the Pescado Frito they have is pretty good—can’t really go wrong with that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You note, leaning back in your chair as you spot Steve making his way into the office.

“I thought you hated holidays like this?” Javier questions curiously, a sentiment he shared. They seemed pointless outside of the few that offered him a reprieve from work.

You shrug, looking away briefly to avoid his steadfast gaze.

“Well, I don’t think all of us are impervious to stuff—I wanted to do something…nice. I guess?”

Javier isn’t entirely convinced, seeing the uncertainty in your shy smile but he lets it go, slapping the desk lightly before waving a quick goodbye as Steve pulls him aside.

It had to be intel—and good intel at that by the way Javier’s face morphs into sudden interest, thumb and pointer finger brushing over his mustache.

And really, you shouldn’t keep staring at him. Not with that dinner on the forefront of your mind, the one you had so meticulously planned out for you and your boyfriend.

Things had to be perfect. There was no other option.

But, then Javier chances another glance in your direction and something swells in your throat—anxiety, sadness. You can't quite place it, but you swallow it down. Force it away.

Only a few more hours to go.

-

The call comes an hour before you’re due to head home, already packing up your belongings preemptively. And you smile at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice.

It’s been a few months. Good months. Too good.

He was younger, like you—some IT guy in his earlier twenties with a kind heart. Or, so you assumed.

“Hey,” You answer softly, lightly into the phone, “reservations are in a couple hours.”

“About that,” His voice sounds off, distant, “I don’t think I can make it.”

Your heart drops into your stomach and you find yourself chewing at your bottom lip in worry, watching wearily as Javier and Steve hold matching coffees in their grip, marching back to their desks in sync. Javier’s gaze lingers for a moment, a normal motion he did just to check on you.

Nothing more.

But, he spots the change in your emotion.

Still, he continues on.

“What—I—I’ve had these reservations for two weeks,” You reply in a hushed voice, trying to contain your frustration, “what happened—what changed?”

“I just—I don’t really know how to say this,” The dread is immediate, but your mind is filled with anger—rigid, bitter anger that wants to bite, “I think we should break up.”

“Are you fucking serious?” The small outburst catches the attention of you people but you avoid their gaze, even more pointedly Javier, who’s gone from inconspicuously spying to full on gawking now, alongside Steve who had a sudden interest. They’ve never seen you like…this. “Today? This felt like a good thing to tell me today?”

“I’ve been trying—“

“You’re an asshole.” You bite harshly, “You can pick your shit up from my apartment this weekend.”

You don’t let him have the final word, slamming the phone back down into the receiver and ignoring the gathering stares and sparse, hushed whispers.

You could sit and wallow, allow yourself to stew in regret and worry, wondering what you did wrong—but you knew it wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been. All the trying and trying and trying you do, the maximum amount of effort met with little enthusiasm. You were naive to think that things would work,

You’re thankful when the shift nears its end and people file out quietly, albeit with a few side-stares, you find yourself mulling over the idea of canceling the reservation completely. But, then there was perfectly good, hard-earned money going to waste. And you could eat by yourself, but the idea seemed even more miserable as you had specifically booked a table for two, decorations and accommodation to match. It felt ridiculous, in hindsight. 

You pass the stack of paperwork off to your boss as you step into his office, scurrying back to your desk with your head down—already prepared to go home and wallow in your self-pity.

“You alright?” Javier asks suddenly, jumping slightly at his voice as you turn on your heels, hip bumping into your desk in the process, wincing at the pain, “shit—sorry.”

He’s smiling to lighten the mood but it doesn’t help.

“You’re…fine,” You wave him off, leaning into the weight of the desk as he lingers, fingers shoved into the front pockets of his pants, “I’m heading home in a bit.”

“No dinner?” He asks curiously—if he was attempting to be coy he was doing a terrible joy.

It was only minimally amusing, cracking a smug smile at his obvious prying. 

“No dinner,” You confirm, “and he broke up with me, so…”

“Cabrón,” He says under his breath, but it isn’t lost on you, “I’m sorry—that’s…fucked up.”

You shrug, “Now I’m debating on canceling and wasting the money I put down to reserve it or looking pathetic if I show up by myself—“

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Javier defends, speaking entirely from personal experience. 

“Javi, it’s Valentine’s Day.” 

“And?”

Suddenly though, you’re struck with an idea. 

“Are you busy?” You ask curiously and Javier raises a curious eyebrow your way and smirks, “No ladies in waiting tonight?”

“Not yet.” Javier jokes lightly, knowing his usual routine of hitting the bar after work would end in one of two ways, and even if he didn’t mind spending his nights alone, it was nice to be in the company of others in whatever capacity.

“Go with me.” You suggest, poking at his bicep. “Since you love the place so much.”

“Come on, hermosa,” Javier chides playfully, “If you wanted to take me on a date, just ask.”

You grin wide, heart fluttering at the flirtatious tone he carried in his voice—it wasn’t something you weren’t used to, but it was never so pointedly directed at you.

“I am,” You tell him, “I just—I’ll need to go home and change first.”

His brow furrows and he looks you over, seeing nothing wrong, “Why? You look fine. You always do.”

It’s something he tells you daily—and maybe he has his own selfish reasons, though you know he does it to most of the women in the office, but the way he’s saying it to you now feels different.

He means it, no humor in his voice.

“My—” You can’t even address him in the moment, rolling your eyes with full force as you rub your fingers over your forehead to will away the lines of stress that form there, “I just—he used to say work clothes never complimented me very well. I already had a dress picked out, I can be quick.”

“Save it. I think you look perfect.” Javier affirms softly, keys jingling in his back pocket as he fishes them out, “I’ll drive us.

“But, my car—”

And hand breaches your shoulder, hot to the touch as his fingers curl around your form.

“Hey,” He’s searching for your eyes, waiting until they lock with his own and he nods, expecting the same motion to make sure you’re with him, “I’ll drive you there and back, you don’t have to change—we can enjoy some good food and forget about your shitty boyfriend, alright?”

You nod quietly, earning a gentle squeeze in response.

–

It wasn’t a date, not in the slightest. But, Javier did his damndest to make you feel like it was.

And maybe it was the guilt over him knowing you just got dumped—that whatever you had spent so much time planning had fell out underneath you, but it didn’t quell the nervous anxiety that you felt as you both sipped on a shared bottle of wine and your separate dinners, watching Javier grimace around the lip of his wine glass.

“Horrible, right?” You laugh softly, watching as he forces the liquid down and nods jerkily.

“Food is great, though—the wine,” Javier makes a face of uneasiness that has you covering a laugh with your palm, “—that’s why I stick with tequila or whiskey.”

“Can’t say I have much of a preference,” You admit, “as long as it does the job.”

Javier nods knowingly, stabbing his fork into a piece of food and chewing thoughtfully, the fingers of his unoccupied hand rubbing together as an idea forms in his head, “You know, if you’re not busy I was going to meet up with Steve and Connie for a drink. Later tonight—if you’re interested?”

You can’t believe how instantly you want to agree, blaming it on your impulsivity. 

“Javi, I don’t know,” You respond quietly, “I don’t—I don’t really go out like that.”

“Well—that dress you were talking about. It wouldn’t go completely to waste if you wanted to wear it out tonight. Plus, you treated me to a nice dinner—let me treat you to a couple drinks.”

It sounds like the perfect idea. Too perfect. Too good to be true.

“Javi,” You tease shyly, “if you’re trying to ask me out on a date just say it.”

Javier chuckles softly and you know it’s only an attempt to make a shitty day not so shitty, but the underlying chase you two have allowed to happen for so long now was unobscured by outside forces and you hated how easy it was for him to distract you from everything that had transpired today.

“Is that a yes?” Javier teases.

You sigh reluctantly, though a subtle grin pulls at your face, eyes soften at the expectant look on Javier’s face, all puppy-eyed and nothing like the man you’re used to seeing in the office. This was a side of him that felt new and you were curious to discover more. You nod.

“Well, hermosa—I guess it’s a date then.”