#so heavenly ★ ic.

[honey-crypt]

a/n: a request from the lovely @fuerrziah! the rest of my drafts are smut requests and i've been anti-horny soooo... have some short but tooth aching sweet fluff!!

word count: 892

warnings: none

summary: a surprise dinner has elliott questioning what you have up your sleeve. little does he know, you have hidden a mermaid's pendant somewhere at the table.

★ honeysuckles and pomegranates - elliott x farmer ★

Elliott clutched the ornate letter close to his chest, as he approached the entrance to the local farm. He recited the contents of the letter by heart in his mind, as if it was a mantra of good luck. Over and over again, the writer repeated to himself, Meet me tonight at 9pm. I have a surprise for you. Dress up. 

And- oh, boy- did Elliott dress up. His day to day appearance reflected nothing but sophistication and charm in his neatly pressed shirts and bold accents, but his “dress up” attire blew that essemble out of the water. Elliott wore his hair in a low ponytail, secured in an emerald green ribbon. He dressed in a flowy white shirt and paired it with relaxed red slacks, his overcoat shrugged off his shoulders like a shawl. His brown Oxfords echoed against the dirt ground, as Elliott approached his beloved’s farmhouse. 

Outside, the farm was illuminated by bronze lanterns, the core areas sporting at least one. Fireflies filled the remaining darkness out with the occasional flicker of dim light. Elliott knocked on the door and awaited for his beloved. A few footsteps rang out from behind the door, closer and closer until the redhead came face to face with you, his love. 

“Hello, honeysuckle,” the term of endearment rolled off his tongue effortlessly. You beamed up at Elliott, “Hello, pompom~” your tongue, meanwhile, teased out the pet name for Elliott. He let out a snort, uncharacteristically poignant of his usual prim and proper self. Yet, with you, Elliott allowed himself to ‘let loose’ and forgo any formalities. 

“You said in your letter-” he unfolded the precious paper of parchment and double-checked its contents, “That you had a surprise for me?” you nodded and held out your hand, “Lemme show you,” the writer graciously took your hand and followed you towards the surprise. Nested within the lushious orchard on your property, fairy lights shined upon a magnificent scene. A small table with two chairs stood proudly in the center, as soft instrumentals hummed from the radio. A bottle of chilled pomegranate wine rested in an ice box on the table, a plate of freshly steamed crab cakes on each side of the chairs. Elliott could only gawk like a dumbstruck fool at the sight before him.

“What do you think? I got this all set up for you,” your voice brought him back into reality. Elliott blinked and turned to you, “What do I think?” he pulled you close and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips, “I believe you have outdone yourself once again, my dear.”

“I’m glad you like it!” you giggled, your smile ever so bright in Elliott’s eyes. You then gestured to the grand dinner, “Let’s eat,” the redhead nodded in agreement and took a seat at the table with you, his mouth salivating at the sight of his favorite meal. 

Goodness, this must have cost them a small fortune, the writer thought to himself while he dug into the heavenly assortment. As the meal went on, the two of you exchanged recaps of your day, the latest town gossip, and so on. It was just like every other dinner date, but in his heart, Elliott knew something was slightly off about this date, as his nose twitched throughout the dinner. 

“I propose a toast,” his ears perked up at the sound of your sweet voice. You held up your glass of wine and Elliott followed in suit, “Just like old times,” the writer mused. Elliott smiled fondly at the memory, the night he felt the spark ignite in his chest, as he proposed a toast to your friendship. The way your smile lit up the saloon, the way you merrily drank your ale, it was no surprise that Elliott fell head over heels for you. 

“I wish to toast to…” your eyes darted to the ice box, “Our love,” you lifted up the ice box, revealing an all too familiar necklace. Elliott’s jaw went slack at the necklace, the vibrant blue pendant glistening under the moonlight. You grasped the Mermaid’s Pendant and held it out to Elliott, “The moment we shared that drink in the saloon was the night I fell in love with you, Elliott. Underneath your elegant persona, I saw a man full of wonder and laughter,” tears began to swell up in the writer’s eyes, “Elliott, will you do me the greatest honor and marry me?”

“Yes!” he nearly shrieked, forgoing any restraint and practically throwing himself at you. The two of you shared a deep kiss, your hands playing with Elliott’s long ginger hair while he held you as close as he possibly could. When you finally pried yourself off one another, Elliott flashed you that million dollar smile of his and hummed, “Do you want to know something funny?”

“Of course,” you answered, eyes twinkling with curiosity. Elliott rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a small box, “I planned on proposing to you, too,” he opened the box and revealed an identical Mermaid’s Pendant. You broke out into a grin and kissed your fiancé feverishly, pulling away only to put the engagement token around Elliott’s neck. He returned the favor and stared down at your neck, his chest bubbling up with excitement. 

Guess my nose is never wrong about these sorts of things.

[redwritesx]

It's Heaven, Bitch - Chapter 1

Read on AO3

Adam Hazbin Hotel x Reader

Story Summary: Reader is new to Heaven and assigned to work underneath Adam. Adam takes an interest in them, exploiting the power imbalance that comes with it and enjoying it like the misogynistic sadist he is. AN: This is my first time posting fanfic to tumblr so I'm sorry if I get the format wrong... Story warnings: Mature MDNI -Adam is an asshole, he can often be manipulative, controlling, misogynistic and just overall a jerk -Power imbalance and dom/sub themes -Dubious consent at times -Age gap (by literally thousands of years) but nothing underage Chapter summary: You recently arrived in Heaven and begun settling in, as much as you can manage anyway... It's your third day of your assigned job at the Great Seraphim Hall and you bump into a very tall and very intimidating golden-winged asshole. Chapter warnings: N/A

★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

You observe your reflection in the silver-rimmed mirror of the staff bathroom as you smooth a few unruly stray hairs back into your neat bun. 

Since arriving in Heaven only a week ago your life has felt like a whirlwind, with so much new information to learn, and so many things to come to terms with. Part of you was still waiting on the moment you woke up in bed back on earth, having lived a very intricate dream.

You stretch out your small wings, fanning the sparse, pure white feathers out behind you and sighing at the reflection.

Peter, the young-faced Angel who had greeted you at the golden gates of Heaven on the day you arrived, explained that newcomers always start with smaller, less developed wings.

“They’ll grow over the next two or so years darling! Over that time, they’ll gradually get larger, and stronger, and those pretty primary feathers will continue growing in. Eventually, they’ll be developed enough for you to be able to take to the skies!”

He had waved a pale hand theatrically, like he was reading from a script (which he most certainly was, being the man who greets new heavenly arrivals every day).

Initially two years sounded like a long time to wait, but as Peter had assured you, it’s nothing when you have all of eternity laid ahead of you. The thought makes you take a dry gulp.

You had no recollection of your death, and even more unnervingly, your life either. There were only a few faint, swimming memories. Yet you remained sure of yourself, you still knew who you felt you were as a person. It was an odd feeling, you supposed akin to a form of amnesia.  But from what you could tell, you lived a happy but unexceptional life.

One that, confirmed by Peter, ended abruptly in your mid 20s to a cause he was unwilling to disclose due to heavenly protocol. The thought made you sad, but equally you found it hard to mourn for a life you could barely remember. You hadn’t asked, but you wondered if this was part of the process that was supposed to help newcomers accept their entry into Heaven and let go of the mortal realm.

You take one last glance in the mirror, straightening the white halo that hovered above your head. It was smooth as glass and cold like ice, touching it felt like touching your very soul.

It was something you learnt about in your intro presentations which Peter had directed you to immediately after your arrival, you were thrown through a series of these presentations along with many other angelic newcomers.

The more senior angels explained the basics of Heaven, including how your halo is tied intrinsically to your soul, an extension of your being, and then many other more mundane facts. Such as being assigned an apartment, where you can go and what you can do for free, what kinds of things you’ll require money and ranks to access.

They had also explained that everyone would be assigned a job, and for 99% of newcomers, those jobs would be minimal, easy, and light hours.

Then after you become more acquainted with your place in Heaven you can choose to move up, aiming for higher paying (and higher responsibility) jobs if you so wish, or continue to simply live a happy afterlife pulling the minimal weight that is expected of you in the angelic community.

Your assigned apartment was simple, but more than enough, and by day two of being in Heaven, you and your fellow newcomers were assigned your jobs.

As ‘DevineDiner waiter’ and ‘HolyInn cleaner’ roles were handed to those around you, it had been a considerable shock when you were handed the papers that in golden shimmering letters, spelt out:

‘General Assistant: Great Seraphim Hall’

You had learnt in the intro presentations that Seraphims were a big deal, the top angels, the governing authority of Heaven. So why the fuck you were being sent to work somewhere called the Great Seraphim Hall as a complete newbie had been beyond you.

You had attempted to challenge it the moment it was assigned to you, but every single senior angle whom you questioned simply followed the same script of “It’s impossible for this to be a mistake”. Offering no further guidance.

And so you were forced to attend your first day of work, despite feeling that you would be incredibly out of place as a complete newbie.

On your first day of work, you had arrived at the grand entrance of the Great Seraphim Hall and reluctantly pushed through the weighty golden doors. You didn’t have to explore far before bumping into your new boss.

The presence of the exceptionally tall woman had caused you to inadvertently shrink behind your own tiny wings despite her warm smile. Your new boss, The High Seraphim ‘Sera’, greeted you with a graciousness you almost felt undeserving of. She and her younger sister Emily had been incredibly welcoming to you, and without hesitation gave you a tour of your new workplace, the Great Seraphim Hall. They also explained your newly-found ‘assistant’ role.

As the pair explained, many Seraphims and other high-ranking individuals would frequent this building as a place to hold meetings and discuss important topics on the governing of the heavenly realm.

Your job was explained to be as simple as picking up the low-level tasks that these individuals were too good for, as well as waiting on their every beck and call for whatever they may need. Anything such as booking meeting rooms, fetching mail, and filling out paperwork.

You had gently presented them with the question of ‘Why you’ out of all other angels. But your new Seraphim boss Sera had assured you:

“I understand the confusion my dear, but rest assured no mistake was made. This is a new position, one that at its core is very simple. There is no need for you to fret, you would not have been chosen if your soul wasn’t right for the job”.

And so here you were, on only day three of your new job in Heaven as an assistant to the angelic beings who frequented the Great Hall.

 You finally step away from the mirror that you had been absently mindedly staring into and exit the staff bathroom, walking back into the main hallway.

You were still getting to grips with navigating the Great Seraphim Hall. The building seemed to have endless hallways with endless rooms sprouting from them, all with the exact same royal golden and marble architecture. It was more than easy to get lost.

Your first two days you had the Seraphim Emily by your side the entire time, the girl enthusiastically helping you adjust and learn your new role. However, today was the first day in which she was otherwise occupied for most of the day, leaving you on your own…

You make your way through the royal hallways, intending to get back to the small room that had been dedicated to you as your own tiny office space.

You approached what you were sure was the final left turn you needed to take, but upon reaching it you smacked into something solid, seeing a flash of nothing but white robes before falling to the floor with a thud, your small wings fluttering instinctively but doing nothing to soften the fall.

“AH – the FUCK?” You hear an annoyed voice exclaim from high above you.

You turn your head reluctantly, finding your gaze has to travel rather far up to meet the face...well, mask, of the very important-looking individual who you just bumped into.

His size was imposing, seeming almost twice your height, and his figure dressed in a long flowing gown that had blue and gold designs on it. It looked just as royal and important as the architecture of the Great Seraphim Hall itself.

His mask had two large horns, golden tips accentuating them, and the black face of the mask wore a livid expression, bright golden eyes set in a frown and equally golden sharp teeth bared.

You noticed he was holding a cup with a straw, the lid half knocked off and most of the contents down his gown. Fuck, this is not good.

“Are you shitting me, you knocked my fucking drink all over me bitch!” He growled at you as you continued sitting on the floor, looking up at him dumbfounded.

“Oh..Oh my gosh, I – I am so sorry, really I – I just, - I wasn’t –“ You scramble for words, heart racing.

“I – I – I” He cupped the side of his face with one hand, tilting it side to side while mocking your stuttering in a girly voice.

“shut the fuck up” He continued, his harsh tone startling you.

All it took was for the imposing figure to take a single step towards you for your brain to kick back in and you scrambled backwards a bit before pulling yourself to your feet.

“It was an honest mistake! Really! I am so sorry!” You hold your trembling hands up, trying to diffuse the man’s anger, your wings tensing up and folding in on themselves in a nervous manner.

“Angels don’t make mistakes, maybe you shouldn’t be up here on the winner's team then” You didn’t immediately understand his insinuation, but before you could reply a shrill yet familiar voice cuts through the air.

“Adam!!” Emily squealed before fluttering gracefully between the two of you, her wings all fluffed up in annoyance.

“You did not just suggest she should be sent to damnation for accidentally spilling your stupid drink!” The man, Adam, rolled his eyes.

“ALRIGHT, don’t get your Seraphim panties in a fucking twist Em-ster.” The girl’s feathers fluffed even more.

“But she did ruin my damn robe, and she wasted my drink!” You heard the rattle of what must’ve been ice cubes still left in the otherwise empty cup.

“So who’s paying for that huh?” The imposing man leant to the side to peek around Emily and angrily shot you a pointed look, one eyebrow raised. It was only now that you took in the huge pair of golden wings that he had, they were massive, just like him. And unlike your own wings, his looked abundant in large, well-grown feathers, giving them a powerful and well-maintained look.

“Put it on your expenses if it’s really that big of a deal, Adam” She retorts, crossing her arms.

You feel utterly ashamed at the fact she was having to do damage control for you on only your third day of working here, the first day in which she hadn’t babysat you the entire shift too.

“I fuckin’ will, and you best be backing my ass up if Sera questions it” The man challenges.

Somehow you get the feeling the actual money isn’t his problem at all, more the principle of having even the smallest of inconveniences on his plate. He gave off an air of superiority, heck, he LOOKED important so maybe the arrogance wasn’t misplaced.

“Of course” Emily replies, but you don’t miss the hint of condensation in her tone.

“Anyway, you should probably be on your way now if you want to make it to your session with Lute on time” The young Seraphim presses, clearly wanting him to leave.

“Well duh, especially now that I gotta portal home to change first too” He makes a point of looking at you again which makes you shrink back and avert your graze.

Without another word the man raises a gloved hand and snaps his fingers, a portal buzzes to life in front of him. You’re caught off guard when he throws his empty cup to you, your reflexes snapping to life just in time for you to clumsily catch it.

“Be useful and get rid of that. And don’t forget to recycle, babe!”

He grins at you, but it lacks any hint of genuine kindness, and he shoots an imaginary finger gun your way before stepping through the portal. It closes behind him and you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

The young Seraphim sighs and turns to you, a sympathetic look on her face.

“I’m sorry about him, Adam’s…well, he’s an asshole with pretty much everyone!”

You look up from the empty cup to the young Seraphim's kind eyes.

“I really am so sorry about that. It…it was my fault, I should’ve been looking where I was going”

You couldn’t help but internally agree the guy had overacted and been an ‘asshole’ about it, but you still felt the burden of the blame on your shoulders and hated to have made a bad first impression with one of the angels here.

“Oh don’t worry! He has angry outbursts all the time over lesser issues than that. Trust me…you’ll get used to it” Her tone held a knowing edge, like she’d had to explain this ‘Adam’ guy's behaviour to others on their first time meeting him.

She wordlessly reaches over to pluck the empty cup from your hands and deposits it in a silver bin you hadn’t noticed till now. One that was literally right next to where Adam had been when he had thrown you his trash…That irked you a tad.

Emily guides you gently to begin walking beside her in the direction of your office and you comply without question.

“Anyway, I was looking for you because Sera has asked me to give you some paperwork to go through. Boring stuff, but worth getting to grips with now so you’re ready when other people…like Adam…dump their paperwork on your desk. It’s one of the less fun ‘assistant’ tasks I know, but it’s part of the role!”

You nod in understanding, and Emily holds open the door to your office for you. You enter the familiar room with her following behind.

The angel snaps her fingers, summoning a stack of papers into existence and snatches them out of the air, rooting through them while mumbling to herself. No matter how many times you saw others opening portals and materialising shit out of thin air it still made your eyes sparkle in wonder.

Emily said it’s something you’ll learn to do one day, but it can take some time to master it. Most newbies can take even a couple of years to begin getting to grips with that stuff.

Another stabbing worry as to why they’d pick you for this job. You’d have to do everything the manual way, even when it comes to moving around the building you couldn’t portal nor fly. You try to push the anxiety aside, Sera said you were chosen for a reason, maybe there’s more you’ll learn in due time about that decision.

“So…who exactly was that guy? Uh, ‘Adam’?” You break the silence while she flicks through the papers in her hands.

“Ah, well, he’s ‘Adam’… yknow, Adam-Adam.” You stare blankly at her response, not sure what shes getting at.

“Like, the first-mortal-man-Adam.” The angel clarifies, and your eyes widen in pure shock.

“Wait. You’ve got to be kidding me…THE Adam? As in like…’Adam and Eve’?!” Your hands cover your mouth, a mortifying chill running down your spine. Out of all the beings you could’ve knocked a drink over, you managed to pick one of the most important and ancient ones.

“Oh gosh - don’t ever let him hear you saying her name! He’d lose it!” She stills her hands on the papers to look you in the eyes, conveying the seriousness of avoiding the topic of his wife. Or, past wife, you guess? They didn’t really cover this stuff in your intro.

“Lets just say it’s a sore topic, one to avoid entirely. But, yeah, that Adam”

Your face clearly expresses how mortified you were at this revelation, as Emily sighs and places the paperwork down on your desk. She takes your hands into her own delicate fingers in a reassuring manner.

“Honestly sweetie, don’t stress about it. You’re doing great, I know this is a lot, myself and Sera both do. You’ve barley been in Heaven for a week, and you're only a couple days into the job. Most angels don’t even come close to beings like us or environments like this for literally decades! You’re handling it all so well, just keep doing your best and everything will fall into place soon enough”

There's something else behind her kind words, a withheld secondary meaning. Like there’s more she wants to say, but can’t, at least not yet.

She was right though; this was overwhelming and it’s for that fact alone that you don’t push to know more. Instead, you urge yourself to trust her words, that everything will fall into place for you soon. Whatever that did mean.

“Now, the fun stuff!” She says sarcastically, having found the sheet she was looking for.

“I’ll show you how to fill out this stuff” Emily smiles reassuringly, which you return albeit weakly and take a seat next to her.

[piatino]

@cheriiaki​ said: ❛  who  cares  ?  who  could  even  care  about  me  ?  ❜

“ don’t say that. why the fuck would you say that ? ”

jotaro takes a long drag from his cigarette before putting it out; he stares at noriaki the whole time. “ kakyoin - san. that’s selfish. didn’t anyone ever teach you not to say such self deprecating things ? you never know, someone who loves you could be listening, ” jotaro scoffs.

“ good grief, kakyoin... do i look like the kind of guy that would keep you around if i didn’t care about you ? this trip to egypt isn’t the only thing keeping the two of us together. you’re a stand user, we understand each other. even if i don’t fully understand this power myself. ”

he narrows his eyes and furrows his brow. this is a matter that concerns him. jotaro doesn’t typically waste his time with comfort, and it’s not like he’s any good at it to begin with, but noriaki is his friend. trying couldn’t hurt.

“ so, noriaki. are you gonna stay on my side, or are you gonna turn tail and run home ? ”

[honey-crypt]

Also going off of the idea that elliott is obsessed with sweets....perhaps its a way for the farmer to seduce him? Like making him some really nice brownies or something and feeding them to him, maybe leading to something spicy if theyre so inclined ✨️

a/n: hehehe this was fun to write. sadly, no nsfw cuz i wrote this at 9am and i got no horny writing juice in the early hours.... but nonetheless, enjoy!

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mention of aphrodisiacs but no nsfw

summary: you had your heart set on wooing elliott since meeting him. seeing his love for sweets, especially for chocolate, you enlist the help of evelyn to make brownies as an attempt to win him over.

★ sweetness - elliott x farmer ★

You knew Elliott had a sweet tooth with the way you would pass him by the ice cream stand nearly every afternoon in summer. He would always grab an ice cream presumably after a morning spent in the library, his order was chocolate ice cream with rainbow sprinkles. You couldn't help but stare at him whenever you saw him eat his ice cream, almost running into a tree and dropping your geodes on more than one occasion.

Elliott, oh sweet Elliott; the moment you locked eyes with him at the beach was the moment you fell head over heels for the redheaded writer. You couldn’t help it! After all, the way he spoke so smoothly with such elegance, the small acts of kindness you witnessed him do, his passion for the arts, every part of him intrigued you. You had to learn more about him, so you did. You learned everything you could about him through your hangouts, slowly but surely becoming friends. Yet, you wanted more, you needed more, so you hatched a plan. 

Elliott’s sweet tooth was his weakness. You had seen the way he melted from the mere taste of chocolate, so it made sense that his favorite dessert was brownies. However, you weren’t the best baker, or at least you hadn’t made brownies before. Luckily, you had a solution, enlisting the best baker you knew: Granny Evelyn. 

“Oh, brownies,” the elderly woman smiled whimsily, “I haven’t made brownies in ages, my dear George and Alex always preferred my cookies.”

You frowned, “So you can’t help me bake brownies?”

She shook her head with a small laugh, “Oh, no, no, dear. I can most assuredly help you! Allow me to grab my recipe book,” the town’s grandmother perused through her kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers until she found a plastic binder. Yellowed from years of use, it was a relic of a lifetime before you. A smile broke out on your face when Evelyn informed you, “Let’s get to baking, my dear.”

Hours went by, as you gathered the ingredients needed and assembled the brownie mixture with Evelyn. Carefully, you poured out the mixture on the baking sheet and worked with Evelyn to smooth it out. Once ready, she placed the tray in the oven and handed you the chocolate-covered spatula, “Have a taste, dear.”

Curious, you licked the chocolate off the spatula and nearly went weak in the knees. It was delicious- no, it was simply scrumptious! You voiced your opinion aloud to Evelyn, “Oh my Yoba, Evelyn, this tastes so good!”

“Oh, splendid,” she smiled at you. Another hour or so went by before the oven timer dinged, signaling that the brownies were ready. A heavenly scent engulfed the kitchen when you pulled the brownies out of the oven. Your mouth watered at the sight of the crisp brownies, perfectly cooked. Evelyn chuckled at your reaction, she then proceeded to cut out a small portion of brownie and held out to you, “Have a taste, you earned it.”

You took the piece and bit into her, the chocolate melting in your mouth. Holy shit, you finished off your piece without hesitation, This is Heaven. You wiped any crumbles off your lips with a napkin (Evelyn always got on you for using your sleeve) and let out a sigh, “Thank you so much for helping me out.”

“Of course,” the grandmother patted you on the arm, “Anything for a young soul in love,” your face heated up at her comment, “Oh, did you- I’ve been alive for many decades, dear. I know love when I see it,” she answered. Evelyn handed you the plate of brownies, “I wish you the best of luck, dear.”

You set the plate down and embraced Evelyn gently, not wanting to break the older woman’s bones if you hugged too tight. You released her from the hug and picked up the plate, “Thank you for everything.”

“Of course,” she waved you off, “You can do it, (Y/N). I believe in you!” a small laugh escaped your lips at her support and exited the Mullner’s residence. You checked the time on your watch, it was around three in the afternoon. Elliott was most likely in his cabin, engaging in a writing session. He was always a hard worker when it came to his writing. 

You approached the cabin, worn out from years of exposure to the elements. Your heart fluttered when you reached the door. You held out your hand to knock on the door, but stopped yourself short, “Shit, shit,” anxiety overcame you, “This is a bad idea,” you turned on your heel, “I’ll just deliver them in the mail.”

The door suddenly creaked open, “(Y/N)?” you whipped your head back towards the door and saw the cabin’s occupant, Elliott, standing in the doorway. He wore his usual summer ensemble, a flowy turquoise shirt secured by brown suspenders and khaki pants. You gripped the tray of brownies so tight that if it was made of china, it would break; you steadied yourself before speaking, “Elliott! Hi! How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” he responded, adjusting his suspenders, “I was just about to head out to the library to return a book,” your eyes trailed off to see the book in his hands, a green cover with the words The Dunwich Horror inked on. You sheepishly smiled, “I’m sorry to disturb you, I can come back another time.”

“No, no!” exclaimed Elliott, “It’s quite alright, (Y/N),” his emerald eyes stared down the plate of brownies, “You baked brownies?” you could see his usual sophisticated expression shifted into one of child-like wonder. You gave the writer a nod of confirmation, “Well, Granny Evelyn helped me, it’s her recipe… but yeah, I baked you brownies.”

Elliott stepped back into his cabin and to the side, “Please! Please come in,” you entered the cabin wordlessly, you had only been inside on a few occasions but its design didn’t change one bit, still frugal and minimalist. You set the brownies down on the nearby table and sat down on the ground, legs crossed.

“Please,” the writer gestured to his desk, “Have a proper seat, my friend.”

“Alright,” you rose from the ground and plopped down at his writing desk. You eyed the assortment of unfinished papers and broken duck feather quills. A typewriter laid away from the mess, a paper in the center and half-filled with words. Must be Elliott’s manuscript. 

“May I have a brownie?” asked Elliott. Your eyes darted to him, the redhead hovering by the brownies with the timidness of a small child, “Of course, you can,” you gave him permission to have a brownie, “I baked them just for you.”

“You should have one!” he commented before biting into the brownie. His eyes lit up with joy, as Elliott let out a moan, “Oh my Yoba,” his voice was muffled by the brownie chunk in his mouth, “This is heavenly. You did an amazing job!”

Your face warmed up at the compliment, “Thank you. I’m glad you like them.”

“Like them?” he questioned, finishing off his brownie, “Darling, I love them.”

You concealed your flustered state by coughing into your arm, hoping Elliott didn’t notice how embarrassed you were from him calling you darling. He didn’t know how much his words had an effect on you, how easily you crumbled at the slightest smile and the simplest of pet names like dear or darling. Oh, how you wanted to take him right then and there, to show him how much he drove you mad. 

“Here,” something poked you in the cheek. You looked up and saw Elliott holding out a brownie to you, “Have a taste.”

You took the brownie and bit into it, relishing its savory delicacy. Just like Elliott, you quickly finished your brownie and let out a satisfied sigh. An idea suddenly popped up in your mind when you saw Elliott reach for another piece, “Wait,” he stopped upon hearing your voice, “I wanna try something.”

Elliott watched in bewilderment, as you grabbed a brownie from the tray. You sat next to him on the bed, the frame creaking a bit under the weight of two people. Mustering up all the courage you had, you held the brownie to his lips, “Here.”

Elliott peered down at the brownie then back at you. You were about to pull it away, cursing yourself for the stupid idea, when he bit down on the brownie. Silent, you remained still as a statue, as you fed Elliott the brownie. The cabin became uncomfortably hot, whether because of the summer heat or the odd feeling in your stomach. Yoba, oh Yoba, I wanna kiss his lips, you watched Elliott’s pretty nude pink lips move while he chewed. I need him.

“Simply marvelous,” your crush spoke up, snapping out of your fantasy. You grinned, happy that Elliott enjoyed the brownies so much, and mused to him, “They’re all yours for the keeping.”

“You spoil me,” the writer chuckled. He stood up and picked up the plate of brownies, walking over to his kitchenette and placing the plate inside the fridge. Elliott then returned to his spot on the bed with you, “I must make sure to give my thanks to Evelyn, as well.”

The temperature of the cabin intensified, a bead of sweat dripped down your forehead onto your hand. Elliott seemed to have noticed the change in temperature and cracked the window by his bed open, “Oh Yoba, I hope we get some rain soon,” he muttered, “It has been way too hot for way too many days.”

“Agreed,” you mumbled, fanning yourself with your shirt. Yoba, I need to get these clothes off. Elliott unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt, his sun-kissed skin glistening with sweat and a bit of chest hair poking out, “I swear, I could be naked right now.”

You choked on air at the sudden statement. Elliott noticed your surprise and laughed loudly, uncharacteristic to his sober self. I didn’t add any alcohol to these brownies. He removed his hair tie and let his long ginger hair free, draping his shoulders. Yoba, he has the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen.

“You’re usually not this… forward,” you stumbled to find the right word, “Unfiltered? Is unfiltered the right word to use?”

“I apologize,” he wiped away some sweat with his forearm, “The heat makes me lose some sense,” Elliott leaned back and laid on the bed, his legs hanging off. You followed in suit, laying down and tilting your head to look at Elliott. He looked back at you and flashed a smile, his teeth as white and as blinding as pearls.

“You’re so beautiful,” you blurted out. His eyes widened and his cheeks turned as red as his hair, “Oh- Oh, I am?” he stuttered, unusually for such a smooth talker. You blinked and realized what you just said, letting out a squeak of horror, “Oh- Oh shit, you were not supposed to hear my inner thoughts!”

“But what if I told you that you’re so beautiful, too?”

You gawked at the redhead, “What?”

Elliott rolled over and got closer to you, your faces almost touching, “What if,” he inched closer, “I told you,” and closer, “That you’re so beautiful, too?” his lips were dangerously close to yours. Something overcame you, perhaps it was Yoba’s intervention, and you gently pecked his lips. Elliott blinked in surprise before pecking you back. The two of you exchanged a series of pecks and soon, you began to kiss one another deeper and deeper until you were full-on Fino Riza kissing. 

In the midst of your feverish makeout session, you managed to get on top of Elliott, your pelvis resting on his lower abdomen. You kissed him with all the passion you had, as did Elliott. It felt like hours had gone by before the kiss was finally broken, leaving both you and Elliott in a panting mess. 

“Wow,” you let out a shaky laugh, “I actually kissed my crush.”

“As did I,” answered Elliott, his cheeks flushed red from the heat and the energy in the room. You whipped your head around, “Wait, you have a crush on me?”

“From the moment I first laid my eyes on your beautiful self,” he confessed. You couldn’t help but laugh at the coincidence, “That’s insane because that happened to me, too,” the writer began to laugh with you, “Oh, Yoba! We could have dated much sooner!”

You paused from laughing, “Does that mean?” he nodded, “I would be honor to have you as my partner, (Y/N). Would you do me the honor and allow me to be yours?”

“Yoba, you’re too romantic for your own good,” you snorted, “But yes, I want you to be my partner,” you pressed a light kiss on his lips. Elliott smiled as big as he could after the kiss, over the moon with happiness. The two of you resumed laying down on his bed and held one another, basking in joy of your new relationship.

…

…

…

The next day after you began dating Elliott, you found Evelyn outside the Stardrop Saloon, tending to the flowers. You jogged up to her with a grin, “Evelyn!” she paused her watering and smiled back, “Good morning, dear. How are you today?”

“Really good,” you answered, “I just wanted to thank you for yesterday. Those brownies were a lifesaver,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “Me and Elliott, we- uh, we’re dating now, too.”

“Splendid!” the old woman responded, “Chocolate always puts my George in a good mood.”

“Oh really? How come?”

“I believe chocolate is a mood booster of some sort. Before him and I became the elders you see now, I used to bake him those brownies to get him in a romantic mood.”

You blinked, “Oh, I see.”

Wasn’t chocolate an aphrodisiac, as well? 

[piatino]

@tradittore said: “i know who you are. i know what you’ve done.”

The bold statement from Buccellati elicits nothing but a dry laugh from Jotaro, and he crosses his arms in thought. Ever since arriving in Italy and passing La Squadra’s rigorous entry tests, Jotaro’s been faced with more than his fair share of ambitious men with big mouths like this one.

Needless to say, he’s killed them all where they stood.

“Now, what exactly brings you to say that to me? I’ve never met you in my life,” Jotaro smirks. “Now, are you gonna get out o’ my face on your own terms, or am I gonna have to make you?”

[piatino]

@cvpidgalore said “you have to trust me on this, okay?” | stranger things starters | always accepting

Frozen, Jotaro offered a hesitant nod towards the girl ( Josuke’s friend , and therefore , his friend ) . Angel was by no means a liar, and by no means a weak girl either. She could certainly hold her own, and she had no reason to betray him.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew Josuke looked up to him, and the very thought brought a smile to Jotaro’s face. Jotaro hoped to be the father that Josuke never had in his life, and that of course meant getting along with the kid’s friends.

“I believe you,” Jotaro grunted. “I do. You have no reason to lie to me, Angel. And you can come to me if you ever need anything.”

[piatino]

❛ i’m sorry , i’m just so tired ❜ when ur uncle is only a teenager being thrown into these crazy ass battles and looks like he's about to have a breakdown cause he hasn't been taking care of himself properly 🤧

Typically, it takes quite a bit of everything—of pity, love, guilt—to get Jotaro to put his guard down, even just for a moment.

This isn’t typical.

Jotaro isn’t a nice guy, not by his standards or anyone else’s, and he certainly doesn’t plan on changing that any time soon. However, exceptions can be made. If the exception happens to involve Jotaro’s uncle, who he may ( or may not ) see as a son, then so be it.

When things like this happen, the trivial matters of “ exceptions ” and “ looking tough ” go out the window entirely. When Higashikata Josuke is distressed—face buried in his palm, purple irises peeking out miserably from the gaps between his fingers—there isn’t room for bullshit.

“ Josuke, ” Jotaro snaps, fierce as always before melting, that paternal influence showing strong. “ Josuke, Josuke… it’s okay. It’s fine, kid,” he whispers. “ I understand. I know you weren’t.. around for my trip to Egypt ( he was, but how is Jotaro going to tell him that the trip happened while he was dying ? ). But know that I was your age, then, and that as scary and as experienced as I might seem now, I was just like you once.”

“And it’s terrifying,” Jotaro blurts, features softening the more he speaks. “It really is. But you know something? You—not your stand, you— have the ability to help people. Fix them, as you’d say, I suppose. Like you did with Okuyasu. And all those other guys. And sometimes that’s enough, kid. You don’t have to break yourself trying your hardest every single time. Sometimes, small things like that are enough. ”

[piatino]

@jocraze asked: ❛ i’m sorry , i’m just so tired ❜ when ur uncle is only a teenager being thrown into these crazy ass battles and looks like he's about to have a breakdown cause he hasn't been taking care of himself properly 🤧

Typically, it takes quite a bit of everything—of pity, love, guilt—to get Jotaro to put his guard down, even just for a moment.

This isn’t typical.

Jotaro isn’t a nice guy, not by his standards or anyone else’s, and he certainly doesn’t plan on changing that any time soon. However, exceptions can be made. If the exception happens to involve Jotaro’s uncle, who he may ( or may not ) see as a son, then so be it.

When things like this happen, the trivial matters of “ exceptions ” and “ looking tough ” go out the window entirely. When Higashikata Josuke is distressed—face buried in his palm, purple irises peeking out miserably from the gaps between his fingers—there isn’t room for bullshit.

“ Josuke, ” Jotaro snaps, fierce as always before melting, that paternal influence showing strong. “ Josuke, Josuke… it’s okay. It’s fine, kid,” he whispers. “ I understand. I know you weren’t.. around for my trip to Egypt ( he was, but how is Jotaro going to tell him that the trip happened while he was dying ? ). But know that I was your age, then, and that as scary and as experienced as I might seem now, I was just like you once. ”

“ And it’s terrifying, ” Jotaro blurts, features softening the more he speaks. “ It really is. But you know something? You—not your stand, you— have the ability to help people. Fix them, as you’d say, I suppose. Like you did with Okuyasu. And all those other guys. And sometimes, that’s enough, kid. You don’t have to break yourself trying your hardest every single time. Sometimes, small things like that are enough. ”

[piatino]

@dawnedbreak said:💧 from jolyne jeojgoegse 💧 = pour a bucket of water on my muse’s head

Something like this has been expected from the start, and he supposes it’s better a little late than never.

Jotaro knows he very well would have done the same at Jolyne’s age if his own absent father had decided to walk back into his life as if there weren’t any issues to be resolved or things to apologize for. One thing that he definitely hadn’t expected was how cold the water would be.

It must have been chilling in the refrigerator for hours, that’s for certain, and he makes his discomfort very clear when he—

“ Oi, what the fuck ?! ”

—snaps.

Although, Jotaro isn’t the person he was when he was seventeen. He is glad for this, glad that it isn’t so easy to stay mad once he gets angry. Now, anger turns to laughter, causing him to tremble even more than he already is from this freezing water.

“ You’re a riot, Jo, y’know that ? ”