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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

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Lovely (Lucifer x Reader)

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Description: Lucifer had heard rumor of the demon with the ability to alter people's memories. Y/n was a marvel and he had her wrapped right around his pinky.

Warnings: Same angst, new target.

Word Count: 1,631

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N This fic is inspired by Spud Cannon's song Lovely. Also don't mind me and my silly little Latin obsessed brain (Lucifer translates to light bringer and is a combination of the latin verb ferre, to bring, and lux, light. I fuck around with that in this.)

That was what had drawn her to him first: the elegance. Lucifer was a graceful man, a beautiful man, a terribly sad person. In retrospect, that should have been Y/n's sign to take a step back but, it is always so difficult to find the right path in the moment. He had seemed so utterly heartbroken, because, as she now knew, he was so utterly heartbroken, and Y/n had thought: maybe I can help?

Her motivations had just been that at first, helping. It wasn't her fault that he was charming and funny and did things that made her want to be more than friends with him with such alarming regularity that it felt like her life was the worst rollercoaster at an amusement park. The one with eight billion sharp turns and uncomfortable seats that left rider's tailbones bruised. It was almost too much to bear.

Lucifer had heard rumors of the demon who had been gifted with the ability to alter people's memories. It had never been gossip that had interested him much until Lilith had left. Suddenly, his mind had felt like a curse. In the throws of despair, he had looked for her, hunted her down. It hadn't take long, he was Lucifer after all. When he was the one asking the questions, few dared to defy.

The shop was a hole in the wall, drenched in the smell of incense and covered in crystals and other odd objects of curiosity. Lucifer could've sworn he recognized the imp horns on the wall but, ignored it. He was there for a reason and asking questions like that were not the path to his end goal.

The demon herself, the famed mystery, was statuesque. She had sat her table in the back of the shop, draped in jewelry made of bones and gold. She had gifted him the first session free of charge.

In order to keep the pain at bay, Lucifer had been required to come to her shop at least once a month. Y/n was a comfort to him, he associated her with the feeling of relief. The two became fast friends.

"Light bringer." she would beckon him in with a smile, "Still counting those forget-me-nots?"

She spoke to him in Latin, in his first eternal language. She weaved images in the air with the smoke from her fires. She was amazing, a miracle worker. Lucifer was grateful for her, for her skill.

Y/n knew the truth behind it. She tried to ignore it, tried to still her raging heart. She knew it was doomed, had seen with her own eyes the way he was still so in love with someone else. Still, when he had asked her on that first date, a year into them knowing one another, she hadn't been able to bring herself to refuse. He had been so sweet, so earnest, so cheesy. He had asked her to be his and she had told him the truth: she already was.

It was a constant state of denial, one big, overwhelming lie she convinced herself was true. In the beginning, Lucifer had been a doting partner. He surprised her with flowers, he always tried to make her smile. It had all stopped the day she had told him she couldn't use her gift on him anymore.

"Why not?" he has asked, alarmed.

"Because, Ferende Lucem (man bringing light), it's not healthy. I can't make things go away forever, just hide them. You still need to deal with them eventually."

Y/n had thought it was time, had figured that two years of dating and three years of knowing one another would be enough. She had been wrong. Lucifer had ceased in his affections in all but name. No longer was she whisked away to the palace, no longer did she wake to one of his creations on her bedside table.

After about a month, she had decided to take things into her own hands. She refused to recede into the gaps he was creating, refused to just let this all go. Y/n loved him, truly. She wouldn't let the love die without a fight.

The palace guards knew her well, had let her in without question. After some searching, Y/n had found Lucifer locked away in his office. The place smelled of despair. He didn't turn from his empty desk at the sound of the door opening.

"Light Bringer." Y/n hummed softly, rapping a knuckle on the already open door, "Counting your forget-me-not's?"

She hadn't asked him that in years, not since before they had gotten together. He lifted his head from his hands, looking over his shoulder just the slightest bit.

"Malefica (witch)." he replied, his voice low and hollow.

Y/n smiled softly at the pet name and entered the room, letting the door stand open in her wake. She approached him, wrapping her arms around his tired shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

"Please." Lucifer's voice cracked, "Please take them from me. It's too much, they're too heavy."

Y/n didn't reply, simply nestling her chin into his hair.

"Y/n, please."

"You know I can't do that." she sighed, "It's not healthy."

"This is what is not healthy."

Y/n let go of him and turned his chair so they faced one another. She kneeled down on the ground before him, clasping his hands in her own. His eyes were ringed with red. In that moment, they weren't a fallen angel and a demon, they were just two people. Two people in love and two people housing broken hearts they lied to themselves to stitch back together.

"Lucifer." her eyes searched his face.

It was rare she called him by his true name. The gravity of the moment clung to their skin.

"Lucifer, what am I to you?"

He looked away. Y/n sighed, her heart cracking straight down the middle within the confines of her chest.

"Can I..." she cleared her throat, steeling her nerves, "Am I ever going to be what you're looking for?"

Lucifer's eyes snapped back to Y/n.

"You are what I'm looking for." he insisted, taking his trembling hands from hers and cupping them gently around her face, "You, Y/n, are my sweet little magician, my salve."

"My magic is, you mean."

Lucifer had always been a terrible liar. It was one of the things Y/n loved about him, the way the truth bubbled to the surface of his being. Right now, she wished he could be the best liar on the planet, the best in all of Hell. Right now, she wished she could've been born blind.

Y/n got to her feet, Lucifer's hands hanging in the air where they had held her last. There was no more running, no more hiding from the truth. This was the precipice, the breaking point, the fall.

"You're my salve." he repeated again, his voice soft and sounding like he was trying to convince himself of the fact as much as he was trying to get through to her.

"Don't lie to me." Y/n demanded, tears pressing behind her eyes, "Don't. Just... just don't."

Oh how she wished she could turn back time, set the clocks to zero.

"You never loved me, did you?"

The question hung unanswered in the air. Y/n had known it for a long time, had known it since the beginning to be perfectly honest but saying it out loud made it all the more real. She was dazed, spinning, out of control.

"You don't love me."

"I wish I could. I'm..."

Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and holding back tears. She looked away.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll see myself out, I guess."

She hoped he'd call out for her, run after her into the hallway, ask if they could try again could start over. Of course Lucifer did no such thing.

For all the things she had helped her clients forget over the years, Y/n understood them even more now than she ever had before. It was complicated. Now she was going to have to reshape her life. If she ever saw him in the street, it would be her duty to pretend she didn't know him. The memories spawned the terror of potential futures, dreams where things worked out, where everything was okay. They sent her mind reeling.

She had known, all along she had feared the worst and feared confirmation of her knowledge. That was the worst part, it hadn't even been a surprise. It had simply been just that, a confirmation of the truth.

The world caved in around her as she walked home, houses and shops and people all blurring together into something undistinguished and undefinable.

Lovely, that's what he was. In all his misfortune, in all his despair, in all his grace. Lovely but oh god, oh god he didn't love her. Not the way she wanted him to. Not the way she loved him.

Y/n pulled the curtains shut to her little shop, moving methodically and without thought. She sat down at the table in the back, before the pot of incense. She lit it.

Not once in all her years had she ever tried to do use her magic on herself. It seemed like a line in the sand, something utterly forbidden. Y/n shut her eyes.

When she reopened them, the world felt different. Time had passed, she could tell it had but her mind refused to give shape to the years.

"So this is what it must feel like." she mumbled aloud, noticing the remnants of her ritual spread out on the table before her, "I wonder what happened."

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miguelhugger2099 · 2 months

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<<Prev

Nerdy!Miguel that’s at your doorstep in one of his large sweaters with “Not all math puns are terrible. Just sum!” written on the front.

Nerdy!Miguel that pushes up his thick rimmed glasses on his nose bridge over and over again since it keeps falling from the nervous sweats coming out his pores.

Nerdy!Miguel who holds a bouquet of flowers in his hand, an arrangement of pink tulips, red roses, baby blue forget-me-nots and pink peonies. Miguel plucked some dandelions on the way to your doorstep and added them in.

Nerdy!Miguel who flushes bright red when you open the door, his heart sinking when you look at him in anger and make your way to close the door again.

Nerdy!Miguel that stops you with a shout of your name, his voice meek and pleading.

“Please! Just…Just a moment of your time.” He gulps and watches as you stare him up and down.

Your eyes squint at his attire—he looks more like his original self. You keep the door open.

“3 Minutes.”

Miguel gives you a weak smile. “Five minutes?”

“Two minutes.”

Miguel closes his mouth quickly. “I’m sorry. I—“ He clutches the bouquet in his hands tightly enough for it to shake slightly.

“I’m…so sorry for hurting you. I promise I didn’t mean you any harm in ignoring you—I didn’t think…” He screws his eyes shut as the embarrassment of his actions washes over him.

“I didn’t know but that’s no excuse. I just—It’s just that I…” He wheezed out his nexts words, using his entire strength to usher out the next few words.

“I really like you. So I wanted you to like me back…but now I know I can’t force you and I know that…changing myself didn’t even work so…” Miguel stares down at his feet and stretches his arms out to hand you the collection of flowers.

“You don’t need to forgive me. Hell, you can throw these flowers out, o-or shut the door or pretend you never knew me or—or anything. I only wanted to apologize because it’s the least I can do for hurting you, intentionally or not. I’m sorry.”

Miguel feels you gently take the bouquet from his hands and he stiffly places his arms at his side.

“It was really stupid what you did.” You say softly. Miguel hangs his head further down.

“I know.”

“Nothing what you did was natural.”

“I know.”

“It hurt me a lot.”

“I know.”

“Especially since I really liked the old you.”

“I know—wait—huh?” Miguel looks back up and sees you looking solemnly at the set of flowers. “You liked me?”

“I did.” Miguel deflates at the past tense. Did, not do.

“So I…really messed up with you.” He mumbles. “I’m an idiot.”

You laugh softly and take a rose from the bouquet. “You are.”

“I’m really sorry.” He whispers to you, his voice oozing with guilt.

“I know. I forgive you.” You say, tucking the rose behind his ear and he blinks down at you with all the love in his heart.

“You do?” He asks hopefully.

“Mhm. I knew it wasn’t you. I knew something was up. So yes, I forgive you.”

“But you don’t like me anymore.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Is—hit me if i’m being stupid again—but is there a chance that…you could like me again? Because I still really, really, really like you.” Now that Miguel has said his feelings out loud, it feels much easier to say them again and again.

You take a moment to respond. “Yeah. I think so.”

Miguel feels his legs buckle and he falls to his knees, looking up at you with hopeful shine in his eyes. You take a step back in surprise watching Miguel grip at his sweater. He can feel his heart pounding painfully against his chest and he hopes to God that you can’t hear it.

“Thank you.” He sighs. “Thank you for even considering giving me a second chance.”

You grow flustered at his shameless display of gratitude. “H-Hold on! Miggy, get up off the floor! It’s dirty!” You kneel in front of him and try to lift him back up. Miguel feels a pleasant shiver run through his body when you utter his nickname.

He looks at you like you’ve put the stars in the sky, like you’re the warm sunshine he bathes in, the moonlight he admires every night. And he believes all of those things one hundred percent.

“I promise I won’t mess it up this time.” Miguel murmurs to you with a kind smile.

“You better not.” You threaten playfully, retouching the rose that had partially fallen off when he dropped to his knees.

Nerdy!Miguel who reverts back to his old self, the one you loved since the beginning.

“You will have to apologize multiple times for calling me a bitch.” You mutter disdainfully.

Miguel bows his head in shame. “Of course.”

Nerdy!Miguel who pampers you for as long as you like; who makes up for his mistakes everyday without a single complaint.

Nerdy!Miguel who whines loudly in embarrassment and buries himself in your shoulder when you bring up that one time he called you a bitch.

A/N: would anyone like some extra scenes? :)

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel x you #miguel o'hara imagine

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singmyaubade · 7 months

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Forget-Me-Nots

James Potter x Female!Reader

A/N: Hi there! I haven't written in a while, but this idea just struck me, and because I've been struggling with writer's block, I really needed to write it. In a way, it's my salvation. This is the first series I am starting, but I will be finishing and starting others.

IB: The Other Zoey by Sara Zandieh. (This movie so good by the way).

Summary: James could never forget a love like yours.

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

There were three things that you couldn't stand.

One was really cold classrooms, which not only made you sleepy but also made it difficult to concentrate on your studies. As a result, you started carrying a jumper with you everywhere you went.

The second was being sick; you detested missing out on opportunities and activities due to circumstances beyond your control, as well as how awful it would feel and how little you could do about it.

Three was crying,

Since fifth year, the idea of crying had both repulsed you and made you dislike how vulnerable everything was, as well as when someone felt sorry for you.

Of course, others could cry in front of you and you would give them comfort but you didn't want people to see you in pain and you making it everyone else's problem.

It wasn't right in your book.

But those were the three things you absolutely despised. They were all simple things you could avoid if you truly tried and you had for years.

But if we wanted to add a bonus point,

You would add James Fleamont Potter.

Quite ironic to hate "The Golden Boy,"

It was one of the most funniest cliches that even you could think of.

The girl who basically had no friends or social standing versus the most popular guy in Hogwarts.

Sounds about right.

But the reason that you couldn't include this in the things you couldn't stand is because it was complex. It wasn't simple and it wasn't something that you could easily describe nor avoid.

You couldn't say that you weren't being immature but what James had done had completely indescribably affected you.

To be fair, it was in fifth year and you were now on your seventh year which means the hatred is pre-historic but when 'The James Potter' cheats on you with Jade Davies AKA the girl you despise that has bullied you since first year,

It gets pretty intense.

Since then, you had refused to talk to James and he let you have your space.

Unfortunately, it didn't mean that Jade would stop bullying you but it only meant that she had more material to bully you with but James did his best to help you avoid her by distracting her when you came by or kissing to distract her.

But you weren't thankful for his gestures, you wished nothing but a quaffle to be shoved up his ass in all honestly.

Then again, it was all so long ago and you wanted to let it go and just have fun for your last year.

Which is why you attended the first Quidditch game of the season.

You were practically freezing, hugging your cheeks with your palms. It was especially cold and you forget to bring another jumper to top over the one you had now.

There was loud cheering all around you as you heard a few chants for James as you saw him dive for the golden snitch.

At the same time, the quaffle came fast in the same direction, colliding with James's head.

He went into instant unconsciousness as he was about to dove straight in the ground.

The crowd went silent as James fell in the air but it felt like he was already moving in slow motion.

Your instincts kicked in as you stood and grabbed your wand from your boot "Arresto Momentum!" You yelled, pointing your wand at him as his movements slowed and he hit the grass floor lightly.

You gasped as everyone watched you, their mouthes agaped but a small part of you only cared if James was okay.

You heard people yelling and whispers asking if he was okay and parts about how you had saved him.

But it wasn't your problem.

You grabbed your bag, moving from the stands as you made your way to the castle. Your feet rushed over to your dorm, trying to make it there as fast as you can.

"Y/N!" You heard someone yell as you looked behind you to see Lily.

You looked ahead of you, trying to rush faster and then Lily said, "You saved him," She panted as a few seconds of silence went.

"It wasn't intentional," You responded, rolling your eyes.

"But you did it instantly," She replied, "You saved him," She looked at you as if she was trying to figure you out.

You stuttered, "Y-You said that and shouldn't you be with him?" You questioned, trying to keep your composure.

"You should come with me," Lily said.

"No, that's a bad idea," You declined, "Jade should already be with him," You cleared your throat, setting your book bag on your shoulder again.

"They aren't together," Lily mentioned, "He wants to see you,"

You raised your eyebrow in confusion, why would James want to see you?

"Lily I don't think-" You tried,

"You must!" Lily responded.

"But-" You tried again.

"You have to," Lily sternly said.

"If I do, will you leave me alone?" You asked, her face lighting up as she grabbed your arm dragging you into infirmary.

You both entered the infirmary, surrounded by hospital beds. You looked around at other sick students as Lily dragged you over to where James was laying.

Sirius, Peter, and Remus were around him, quietly talking as you approached him.

He had a harsh, purple bruise on his temple that was the size of your hand and a bandage wrapped around his head.

"James, I got her for you," Lily said as James groaned, blinking to take a good look at you, his eyes still squinting from the light and how much his head hurt.

"Baby," He sweetly said, a wide grin appearing on his lips as he squinted.

Baby.

He hadn't called you that in so long.

You flinched, trying not to show how taken aback you were in order to not freak him out but you were. You looked at the three boys in front of you but they were equally confused too.

"Potter, have you lost your-" You said as Lily elbowed you, earning a hiss from you.

"Play along," Lily mouthed, making you even more confused.

"But-" You were about to speak before Lily pushed you in front of James.

"Um, are you okay?" You asked, looking at him awkwardly.

"I'm amazing now that you are here," He said, smiling.

"Oh that's great!" You fake excitingly said.

"I missed you so much," James took your hand, rubbing it as your face was hit with surprise, "I heard you in my dreams," He dreamingly smiled.

"That's nice," You awkwardly laughed, "You should sleep, your head is probably pounding," You said, patting the back of his hand as he only caressed yours.

"Stay with me?" He asked, drifting into drowsiness.

You looked around at his friends as they urged you to say yes, "Sure," You sighed.

James's eyes closed as you laid his hand next to him on his bed. You watched at how pretty he looked sleeping, his eyelids fluttering but that was before you snapped into reality.

"What is going on?" You asked sternly, crossing your arms.

"Well," Sirius was about to start but Remus continued for him.

"James had called your name on the field after you performed that spell for him," He explained, making you blush, "And he wouldn't stop calling your name until the nurse gave him a drowsy potion,"

Your eyebrow raised, why was James Potter calling for you out of all people? You couldn't help but question the entire thing.

"And why was he calling my name?" You asked.

"We don't know," Lily answered.

"Well, I can't be with him when he wakes up," You said, looking off.

"You have to," Sirius answered, "Prongs can't be stressed out, it will only worsen his brain and he will end up like a pound of sausage," He said, confusing you.

"Great analogy but I really should be-" You started as you were interrupted.

"James!" Jade yelled dramatically, running over to him, "Oh will he make it?" Jade asked, fanning herself as the group rolled their eyes.

"He will be fine," Remus said.

"But I think seeing you will make it worse," Sirius added with a smile.

Jade scowled at him before looking at you, "What is she doing here?" She furiously said.

You were about to speak before Lily did it for you, "He called for her,"

"No he didn't," Jade laughed, dismissing the ridiculous thought.

"But he did," Peter said as Jade has a disgusted look on her face.

"Well I'm his girlfriend so I'm sure he will want to see me," Jade boasted as if she only cared about the label and not the fact that James had truly gotten hurt.

"You guys have been broken up for six months," Sirius scoffed.

"I would prefer on a break," Jade corrected, glaring at Sirius.

"Okay well, this has nothing to do with me," You said, trying to move past Jade but she blocked you.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jade asked.

"Moving out of the way so that you can coddle James and kiss his boo boo's away," You mocked.

"Honestly, I keep forgetting that James chose me over you, it's actually quite hilarious," Jade smirked as you rolled your eyes.

"Congrats on being easy, it's one of your best accomplishments," You insulted, trying to move past her but failing once again.

"Nice of you to assume that James was only with me because I'm "easy," She gaped, causing you to step back.

"Seriously bugger off Jade," Sirius defended.

Jade kept going, "Or are you sure it's not because I'm better than you in everything I do and that James couldn't stand to be with you for another second with your daddy issues and a failure at everything," She aggrieved.

Your eyes watered as Madam Pomfrey came in, "Oh Mr. Potter must have a lot of admirers," She joked as you only smiled in return, "Which one of you is the famous Y/N?" She asked, looking between you, Jade, and Lily.

You spoke, "I am,"

She smiled at you, "He had been calling you for ages, what a beautiful girlfriend he's got,"

"I'm actually not his-" You started but the nurse kept going.

"Mr. Potter will be fine but a few things are jumbled in there" She said, checking his vitals, "It's best if he isn't stressed out or confused because it could only make matters worse," She finished, looking at all of you.

You all nodded in reply, "Other than that, he is good to go tomorrow morning but he can only have two visitors tonight," She mentioned, exiting.

"Y/N, you should stay with him," Peter said shyly.

"I don't think-" You started before you were interrupted.

You were getting tired of being interrupted.

"No, James would wanna see me," Jade almost yelled.

"You will only give James more brain damage, Y/N stays," Lily spat, clearly annoyed by Jade.

Jade huffed, "I will be back in the morning," She stomped away.

"We'll leave you to it," Remus said as Sirius smirked, leaving with the group as Lily squeezed your shoulder before exiting too.

You sat on the chair next to James's bed, wondering how you got in this situation in the first place.

And then you wondered how you would get out of it.

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smokedgastropod · 8 months

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the sky in disco elysium

so much of disco elysium is looking *up*, so its only fitting that 2 of the 4 ideologies, moralism and communism in disco elysium have symbols relating to the sky - moralism the clouds, the daylight sky, the one the color of forget-me-nots, *aerostatics*, and communism - the stars. the latter one was quite well explored already, so let me give you a taste of moralintern's sky:

and, of course, the resolution of the thought "the kingdom of conscience":

and even though joyce tells us that living under the same sky at the same time counts for a lot:

perception of coalition aerostatics tells us a different story. for a privilledged sunday friend they are peacefully patrolling, joyce herself finds comfort in looking up, kim says they're on a "lookout", and trant doesn't even deny their destructive power, though doesn't seem scared by them himself:

but all of those above are more or less comfortable in society, or find it too painful to recognize the inequalities inherent to status quo (kim. i mean kim here.). soona, noid, cindy have different opinions:

this group doesn't think of aerostatics as helpful, but (at best), dismissive of their suffering. thats why aerograffitos are an interesting part of worldbuilding in de. they're an attempt to be heard by the warships, to have a chance at being allowed change.

the sky just doesn't belong to revachol and her people. it's for moralintern to keep watch, in a strict, supposedly loving way:

it's actually quite often described as feminine, dolores dei is too. this "strict, feminine" way is of a mother watching her children play. not just to keep them safe, but *in line* too. it's sinister, but disguising itself as protection. it's expressed in this world as "balance of terror theory":

i want to come back to this unofficial motto of moralintern: "for a moment, there was hope" along with another hope-related quote:

and a particularly tragic line in my opinion:

that you can mistake an aerostatic for a star if you don't look closely. what a way to kill hope.

#disco elysium #de #disco elysium spoilers #moralism

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shirefantasies · 3 months

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Things You Do Together- LoTR Characters

A little buffer posting during recovery, sorry y’all 😅 I have some requests getting ready too though! Did a version for Thorin’s company a while back so here’s this version too 🥰

Aragorn wishes there to be no secrets, as few misunderstandings as could arise. Thus his goal is to help you reach fluency in Elvish; after all, many of his friends and familial figures are of Middle Earth’s eldest race. Their script is quite complex, so barring a great desire of yours to be writing it soon Aragorn focuses upon recognition of important words and phrases. Starting, of course, with my love.

Legolas teaches you archery, standing behind you as you fire his bow. Such a patient teacher and not one to burst out laughing if the arrow arcs spectacularly right back down into the grass. Surely he will smile and shake his head, but he understands. Everyone was there once, himself no exception. Pays such attention to detail you will catch him making the smallest of adjustments, even little things like changing the position of your fingers with his.

Desiring to prove both his and his people’s worth, Boromir attends with you at his side a joust hosted by Gondor’s men. You delight in choosing and cheering on a champion, shouting with joy at his successes and sympathizing with strikes against him. When, you think aloud to Boromir, was the last time you both laughed so? Pulling you close, he tells you he does not remember when, but if he has his way it will be soon again.

If you desire exploration, you know that Gimli will be right at your side to enjoy the world’s beauty. Caves, of course, are a domain of his people, expanses of stone glittering on walls and hanging down to your level. Forests, too, homes of fairer beings and much provision. Things Gimli has sworn to protect and love in this life that he wishes to experience with the greatest of them all… you. Never does he tire of telling you nature is beautiful, but more so are you.

Frodo encourages your writing. He himself has penned you many a poem, but there is nothing like your voice, physical or metaphorical, sharing a story with him. His dream is a book containing both of your stories, perhaps even an addition to his uncle’s story. If you feel called to share stories of others, even simple escapes from reality, Frodo is your greatest supporter. With all that he endures, ever a relief is it to hear you speak of a world so different from his own.

Botany, Samwise Gamgee thinks, is best learned amongst the flowers themselves. Rather than stuff you up into the pages of some book, he takes you walking down winding Shire-paths of flowers and bushes, showing you how he can tell what's related by things like leaf shape and giving you little tips and tricks to remember bloom names. “If you forget forget-me-nots, after all,” he teases with a wink, “you’re doing them quite the disservice!”

Merry teaches you his method of whittling, the way he crafts little trinkets of wood to keep occupied in idle times. When you feel more confident in your skills, Merry challenges you: he crafts a little figure of you and you of him. Complain as you do that his lovely hair is hard to capture, in the end you are proud of your first figure and Merry keeps it in the pocket closest to his heart. Those figures serve as the cake topper at your wedding a little ways down the line!

It can be a messy time, but Pippin adores spending time in the kitchen with you! Not only because he knows you’ll acquiesce him with little tastes, but because he’s fascinated at the process, the way you throw things together to make something beautiful and are so willing to have a feast made whenever guests call. Ever one for physical touch, Pippin enjoys sugary-sweet moments like sneaking up behind you for a kiss as you’re occupied kneading dough or standing against you to help stir your soup. And yes, sometimes he spills, but he always apologizes and cleans up after himself and don’t we all make mistakes?

Faramir reads with you, or, if you are stressed, to you. Sharing a love of your land’s myth, the studies of triumphs, follies, and magics past are like traveling far away to him, so to have a companion in that rings deep joy into his heart. He cannot help sometimes comparing the great love stories of Middle Earth to the way you found each other. Faramir is the type to know all your favorite tales and offer them to you at just the right time, sitting you in his lap or against his chest on a bed as he peels the pages open for you.

Smithing is something Eomer is confident you can learn, especially if he knows you wish to be involved in battles and wants to keep you safe! Being a supplier is just as important, otherwise there would be no blades to hoist for Rohan. Always encouraging you to hit harder and chuckling at your initial fear of the red-hot steel, Eomer loves standing behind you and guiding your motions. Perhaps even using this as an opportunity to sneak a kiss!

Haldir shows you how he cares for trees, even the smallest pieces of creation. Small potted trees akin to bonsais decorate shelves and tables in Lothlorien, and trimming and shaping them is an art form in and of itself. Nurturing a tiny, delicate life, after all, requires more intricacies than the greater fortitude. Microcosms of Haldir’s home forest sit before you as you take in his reverent, peaceful smile, hear his guiding words about the nutrients they need. You never tire of the focus spread across his face, the gentle opening of tiny blossoms.

Eowyn adores sparring with you no matter your skill level, moving slower or picking up her pace depending on it. She never wishes to go too hard on you, but does want to push you to try new things and experience different angles so you can keep yourself safe in a fight, Valar forbid you are so threatened. Sometimes your sparring is more playful, more just the two of you chasing each other around with wooden swords and one knocking the other over at the end of it, laughing as you tumble to the ground.

Enjoying the occasional swim, Arwen invites you into one of her home's gorgeous pools with her, stripping you both down to thinner layers as you step into perfectly, perhaps magically, warmed water. Polished stones roll beneath your feet as you wade over to each other, hands joining as you float in peaceful, loving silence. A smile spreads across Arwen's face before she gives you a light, teasing splash, silence quickly devolving into giggles as your troubles lighten.

Elrond is known for making some of the best tea in Middle Earth, and you experience his skills and then some. Not only does the lord of Imladris brew you a cup of your favorite herbal blend, he will also ensure that his bakers have pastries warm and ready and the loveliest toppings. Your relaxation time is like a little ceremony, Elrond pouring your drink and serving you all you wish on your little platter. You will not so much as lift a finger until it is to take a sip of the warm comfort as you and Elrond watch the surrounding waterfalls.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @joonies-word | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn #legolas #boromir #gimli #frodo #sam #merry #pippin #faramir #eomer #haldir #eowyn #arwen #elrond

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jungle-angel · 8 months

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Two Birds In A Nest (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob are just beginning to build your lives in Montana and hope that your family will grow with it

Warnings: Talks about starting a family, wanting a family, smut etc.

Your moans were tied together with Bob's even as you felt him gutter into you, an explosion of warmth blooming between your legs as your heavy breathing began to even out with each other's. You reached up, placing a hot hand against Bob's chest, feeling his fast heartbeat beneath your palm.

"Oh baby," he sighed happily, nuzzling your cheeks and your jaw. "My sweet (y/n), I can't get enough of you."

You giggled a little as you felt his baby smooth skin against yours, the both of you still sensitive to each other's kissing and caressing. Bob helped you up from your bed and into the bathroom, running a hot bath for the both of you to get you cleaned up. God it was heaven being in your brand new bathroom and not having to worry about who would be up at some ungodly hour of the morning to hog the shower. The steam carried with it the smell of Bob's Irish Spring body wash that he used on the both of you, gently washing every part of you that he could touch. Back into your shared bedroom you both went, crawling under the warm covers as the blizzard outside began to rage. Your house however, was so cozy and warm, the dogs sleeping soundly in their crates while the cats had taken to the laundry room in the finished basement.

You and Bob lay facing each other, chest to chest, tits pressing against each other and still warm from the bath. He looked like a dream with his soft cheeks, his limpid blue eyes that reminded you of the forget-me-nots that popped in your garden every spring. The lazy but loving smile on his face was almost the same as his dad's, the spitting image in all those family photos of Bob as a baby being held by Joe, his father.

Yet there was something that stirred and ached in your chest. You couldn't put your finger on what it was or why it was there, but it was.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Bob asked, seeing the worrisome look playing with your face.

"Do you ever feel like something's missing?" you asked in reply.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," you answered a little sadly. "I just.....I pass by one of the empty rooms and all I can see in there is you standing over a crib.....a little baby in your arms.....maybe you're sitting in the rocker singing and rocking him or her to sleep."

Bob could feel his eyes burning and a few loose tears beginning to form. Growing up the youngest in a big family, he spent endless days playing with all his nieces and nephews, sometimes watching them while his brothers and sisters either didn't have the time to do so or had to go on a SEAL team mission like his oldest sister, Reagan's husband. Picking them up from school, playing with them and taking care of them had made him feel as though there had been a hole somewhere that he could just hardly fill. Ever since the two of you had gotten married, he wanted so badly to have just that....a family of your own and a house that truly felt like home.

"Oh baby," he cooed, kissing your cheeks. "It'll happen, don't you worry."

You had hoped so. God you had hoped so. It was all you could think about, even when you were at the school trying to teach your fifth graders about ancient India and having to fill one side of the chalkboard with a drawing from The Ramayana. Now that you and Bob could finally have the time to try, you were excited, happy, nervous and scared all at once.

"Do you....do you wanna try?" you asked him a little meekly.

You felt him roll his body on top of yours, the heat intensifying a little bit from the heavy duvet you only used in the winter. "Hell yes," Bob murmured, his lips gently grazing against yours.

You felt him kiss you gently, just as he had done earlier that night, the wetness beginning to build again between your legs as his red hot, throbbing cock slipped inside you with ease. You sighed and moaned happily as his hips thrust gently in and out of you, slowly drawing your orgasm out of you. It was almost like the blizzard outside, dizzying and a wild flurry of moans, groaning and skin slapping against skin before everything calmed down and you and Bob were resting skin-to-skin against each other.

"You think this one will take?" you asked sleepily.

"I've got a feeling," Bob yawned.

Sure enough it did. After almost a week of you waking up sick, you and Bob were over the moon to find that it had taken, the tears filling his eyes when he hears the baby's heartbeat for the first time, more so when you learn that it's a little boy, your tiny little August Robert Floyd, who becomes the biggest blessing your family has ever received.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #dagger squad

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meadow-hearthfire · 2 months

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[Insert dialogue of a ten-year-old ranting to his previously-unknown Pop dad about the mistreatment he and his sister endured in the Techno foster system just for being half-Pop.]

--We didn’t ask for any of that! We never asked to be made!! Where was all that love and care these past ten years? Where was that these past FIVE YEARS?!!

I have no excuse… I’m sorry I wasn’t there.

No kid should ever have to go through such hardship, especially not at such a young age as you were…

Despite how angry and upset they are, they’re still kids and they’re hurting and they need a hug. Also, you gotta let them get it outta their system.

---

I love @zivazivc's OCs Eddy M and Ravin! (Oh, and their Techno dad is confirmed to have been in his twenties when he had them.)

Some songs I listened to while working on those pics:

youtube

This takes place in a universe in which Floyd mans up and takes those kids in after being reminded of their existence and informed of their situation. There are some other things that sets this AU apart from Ziva’s but I’m not gonna spoil any more than I probably already am. Plus, the AU is still a work-in-progress.

The kids are sent straight to Pop Village after the events of Trolls World Tour, and all of BroZone is informed of the kids’ existence after ancestry test results come out.

Why’s Eddy M pissed at Floyd, you may wonder? It’s because Eddy M knows Floyd knew of his and Ravin’s existence from the start and didn’t bother being part of their lives until Floyd was reminded of their existence and informed about their situation. Ravin knows that too, but she’s more upset that she’s reliving the trauma she and her brother underwent.

In the Mirverse, Eddy M and Ravin’s Techno dad died when they were five, and their Techno grandparents, whom they thought loved them, shunted them off to the Techno foster system where they were mistreated for being half-Pop.

The kids are supposed to be ten years old in this. If Floyd is thirteen when BroZone split, in his mid-twenties when he had those two eggs with that Techno troll, then he should be in his mid-thirties in this (at least in the Mirverse and according to my headcanons). If you notice the kids’ heights are possibly inconsistent for a ten-year-old, please ignore this error because I was too late to fix it. Maybe their time in the shitty-ass Techno foster system stunted their growth?

Wondering about Eddy M’s bandages? Well, all I’m gonna say is that Eddy M ran into trouble and got hurt. And nope, it wasn’t during his and Ravin’s time in the Techno foster system.

As for the clothes the kids are wearing? They were gifted those clothes when they were in the much nicer Pop Village foster home/orphanage.

Notice Floyd’s tattoo? The flowers are forget-me-nots, which I picked for a symbolic meaning that's literally in the name. I’m gonna let you try to figure out the rest (; btw the tattoo design isn't finalized, so it's subject to change.

Oh, and I hope you don’t mind the alterations and errors in Eddy M and Ravin’s designs. I was almost done with the pic so it was too late to fix those errors (the bangs and eyebrows), I’ll try to rectify that and see if I can make those details work next time I draw those two. As for the alterations, I wanted to simplify Ravin’s skin for ease of drawing and I struggled to make Eddy M’s Techno troll teeth work.

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dapper-suitor · 2 months

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After reading Peter and Wendy by J.M. Barrie I have come up with my own Captain Hook design....

Here's all my citations for why he looks the way he does!

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

★ Described as having a swarthy skin tone, which means an olive or tanned complexion; "Hook nodded. He stood for a long time lost in thought, and at last a curdling smile lit up his swarthy face. Smee had been waiting for it. 'Unrip your plan, captain,' he cried eagerly," (Barrie 90).

★ Outfit modeled after King Charles the Second of England; "In dress he somewhat aped the attire associated with the name of Charles II., having heard it said in some earlier period of his career that he bore a strange resemblance to the ill-fated Stuarts;" (Barrie 81).

★ Loves flowers (Yes, actually.), hence the floral patterns on his vest and jacket; "Thus defenceless Hook found him. He stood silent at the foot of the tree looking across the chamber at his enemy. Did no feeling of compassion disturb his sombre breast? The man was not wholly evil; he loved flowers (I have been told) and sweet music (he was himself no mean performer on the harpsichord)..." (Barrie 191).

★ His hair is distinctly dark and curled; "As dogs this terrible man treated and addressed them, and as dogs they obeyed him. In person he was cadaverous and blackavized, and his hair was dressed in long curls, which at a little distance looked like black candles, and gave a singularly threatening expression to his handsome countenance." (Barrie 80).

★ Eyes of periwinkle blue, forget-me-nots; "Dark as were his thoughts his blue eyes were as soft as the periwinkle.." (Barrie 189). and, "His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not..." (Barrie 80).

★ Specifically the little thumbnail of him with red pupils represents a later trait we see in the novel, in which when he angers his eyes become red, "His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy, save when he was plunging his hook into you, at which time two red spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly." (Barrie 80).

★ Hook has a sort of sophisticated air to him because it is heavily implied in the story that he came from a high-class college in England before Neverland, "To reveal who he really was would even at this date set the country in a blaze; but as those who read between the lines must already have guessed, he had been at a famous public school; and its traditions still clung to him like garments, with which indeed they are largely concerned. Thus it was offensive to him even now to board a ship in the same dress in which he grappled her; and he still adhered in his walk to the school's distinguished slouch. But above all he retained the passion for good form." (Barrie 203).

Note: The grey hair streaks isn't really mentioned in the novel, but I thought it would be a cool (obvious) contrast between Hook and Pan.

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juyuppang · 1 month

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FORGET-ME-NOT | one

pairing: park sunghoon x f!reader

synopsis: sunghoon never believed in love due to his biggest secret: having the disease hanahaki. when he meets you on a whim one night, he realizes he may have found his cure...you. will love be both in your favor, or will it all crumble before it even started?

word count: 2.7k words

warnings: cussing, alcohol consumption

taglist: OPEN! send in an ask or comment if you’d like to be tagged

The sun shone brightly on the sidewalk and the streets surrounding the area.

You and your best friend Chaehyun decided to check out the Farmer’s Market today, knowing the nice old lady who sold flowers would be back once again with more commodities.

In your shared apartment with Chaehyun, there was a flower vase that was the centerpiece of the dining table. As the flowers her boyfriend Heeseung got her were withering, she decided to replace them and get a fresh bouquet. You decided to tag along, needing a breath of fresh air.

It was a routine to always go to the farmer’s market ever since the two of you moved into your apartment back in freshman year. Now on your second semester of junior year in university, the two of you were always glued together-literally.

You walked through the rows of buckets, looking at the different flowers. Your eyes glistened as soon as you spotted your favorite flowers: Forget Me Nots. You bent down, looking at the blue and purple flowers bundled up in the bucket.

“Did you want to add those to the flower vase?” Chaehyun asked as she held a few of her favorite flowers in her hands.

You nodded, picking a few. “Sure, why not?” Standing up, you handed some of the flowers you chose and gave them to Chaehyun as she looked at the bouquet as a whole. “Wow, they added a nice touch with the sunflowers and tulips.”

You never really knew why Forget Me Nots were your favorite flowers. There was never a backstory to it; all you could say was that whenever you saw the flowers, they seemed to have a bigger meaning than thought. Maybe it was the hopeless romantic in you or the movies of the main leads finding their soulmates in the most random places- but for you, it just gave you the feeling of true love.

As Chaehyun went to pay, you walked down the sidewalk to find more vendors and other things to buy. You then stumbled upon one of your friends from your Photos class last semester, Jake Sim. As you both crossed paths, he waved from the side of the area he was in. He held a bag of fresh oranges, looking for the perfect ones to buy.

You and Jake talked often as he was notably one of the most handsome guys in your grade- also one of Heeseung’s closest friends. He, Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon- his entire friend group was known as the campus hunks per say. They were all known to be flirtatious- well minus Heeseung since he got together with Chaehyun.

They always showed up to the parties, knew almost everyone, had high grades, and overall just had a reputation that shone across the campus. It is known that they were never serious about one thing which was love.

Maybe that was why you were skeptical as soon as Chaehyun confessed to you she started seeing Heseeung. But soon enough, he proved himself worthy of dating your best friend.

“Hey Y/N, what brings you here?” Jake asked politely as you stood by the crate of oranges.

“Chae wanted to grab some flowers for the vase in the dining room.” You replied.

“There you are, you wandered off-” Chaehyun sighed as she glanced towards Jake, giving him a wave.

“Let me guess?” Jake smiled as Chaaehyun nodded her head. “The flowers withered.”

Chaehyun showed Jake the bouquet of flowers as he looked at each one, admiring how pretty the bouquet was. He then snapped his fingers, as if a lightbulb appeared on the top of his head.

“Wait, before I forget, you and Y/N are coming to Yeonjun’s party tonight right? It’s the first last party of the spring semester since he’s graduating in May.”

“Hee told me about that, I’ll tag along,” Chaehyun replied. She then looked at you and shook her head. “I don’t know about Y/N though.”

“You guys have fun,” You smiled. “I got assigned a paper already in my Sociology class.”

In honesty, the paper was not due in 3 weeks, you had another deadline: your article in the Campus Online Paper. As a journalism major, you must participate in the school’s online newspaper under an Alias for at least one semester in your last two years of university. No one knew it was you who wrote those articles, not even Chaehyun.

It was your little secret to keep, you wanted people to critique your writing because of skill not because it was you per say.

You decided to get it over with and participate this semester under the alias Forget Me Not (you had no clue what your alias should be) and write about Classics and Myths. As you had the creative freedom to choose a topic and stick with it for that semester, you decided to write about different stories that piqued your interest and analyze them.

You remembered the first day of your Intro to Classics and Myths, stunned by learning about the Narcissus flower.

The myth was about the nymph Echo and the hunter Narcissus. Echo was cursed by the goddess Juno, the Roman counterpart of the Greek goddess Hera. Echo was cursed to only repeat what someone had already said.

Echo then falls in love with Narcissus who rejects her; she does not give up, only for her body to then go to waste with only an echo of her soul to be heard. Narcissus then is punished by Nemesis, the Greek counterpart of Artemis, and curses him to only fall in love with no one but himself.

As Narcissus then stops by a nearby pond, thirsty, he sees his reflection in the pond, not realizing he is looking at himself. In pure bliss, Narcissus decided to lean closer and realized he could not fall in love with the reflection, falling into his death; the Narcissus flower then started to grow in his place.

After learning about the Myth and being intrigued by the story, you wrote about the piece and your thoughts. You felt like you just rambled in your article analyzing it and adding your feelings and how pitiful love could be for people.

Frankly, you were supposed to stay for just one semester. As the number of reads slowly increased after your first article, the student president of the paper, Choi Soobin, asked you to stay just for one more semester, promising to put in a good word with you for the broadcasting company he was currently interning at.

Now here you are, trying to pry your way out of an offer that you probably can’t refuse knowing it was going to be one of the biggest parties of the semester. Especially since Yeonjun moved into an apartment space that was larger than the last one he last lived in.

“See I told you.” Chaehyun chimed. “She’s a busy girl.”

“Ah, well I tried,” Jake replied. “But if you do change your mind, you should tag along. It’d be cool for you to hang out with everyone.”

“Wait, you haven’t even properly met Jay and Sunghoon,” Chaehyun said as she nuzzled up to you, smiling. “Okay, I guess you have to go now.”

“I can meet them another time-”

“Oh yea, they’re nice. Jay’s really funny and easygoing. Sunghoon’s a bit cold but he’s just reserved.” Jake replied. “Y/N, I still think you should come.”

“I’ll think about it.” You nodded your head.

The two of you then said goodbye to Jake, walking towards the vendor who was selling kettle corn at the end of the other side of the market.

You had no clue how you went from an “I’ll think about it” to sitting on Yeonjun’s couch, in the middle of Jake and Chaehyun.

Your best friend was too busy talking to Heeseung enjoying their time together as Jay sat on the other end of Jake sipping their drinks.

You could barely hear what anyone was saying or process what was going on as the strobe lights took over the entire area and loud music blared from the speakers placed near the couch.

Everyone was busy doing their own thing and you on the other hand, just wanted to go home.

You had just met Jay and he seemed very sweet and polite. You guys talked for a little bit earlier in the kitchen as they poured their drinks into their cups. You found out how he was a Business major alongside Sunghoon while Jake majored in Chemical Engineering and Heeseung majored in Music Therapy.

The three of you rambled about how much work your classes assigned in the first week and how slumped you all were, already waiting for the summer. You got along with them pretty nicely and you wondered if you’d get along with the last person in Heeseung’s friend group which was Sunghoon.

Sunghoon was one of the quieter guys in Heeseung’s friend group. You've seen him a couple of times and how he rarely had a smile on his face. He was the one you’d hear the most stories of in your classes and amongst girls in your classes.

You heard of stories of girls trying their best to get closer to him or asking for his number or how some would even gift him chocolates as a confession. He would then decline each request, leaving many in heartbreak and some in embarrassment.

He seemed to be the opposite whenever it came to parties and larger functions. His walls would crumble down only to be rebuilt the day after.

You did not want to judge his character since you did not know him at all but he was distinguishable from his friends personality wise.

“Dang he must have drank on his own or something,” Jake mumbled, looking around for Sunghoon. He looked at his phone, seeing that the message he sent to Sunghoon was still left unread.

You stood up and looked down at your phone. Seeing it was almost 10 PM, you needed some fresh air knowing the party wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

You lightly tapped Chaehyun’s shoulder, trying to get her attention. “Chae, you said there was a rooftop here?”

“Oh yes, you need to see it, it’s pretty! Just press the 5th floor and go straight down the left hall and there should be the entrance.” Chaehyun replied trying to talk loudly over the blaring music.

“Also if you see Sunghoon there, do you mind texting Chaehyun to let us know, I have a feeling he may be there.” Jake asked you as you nodded your head.

You then walked out, saying a bit of loud “Excuse Me’s” outside of Yeonjun’s apartment and towards the elevator in the middle of the floor.

Sunghoon lost count of how much he drank so far. He felt the flower petals start to grow in his lungs again. There was no one sitting by the balcony on the rooftop, it was just him and the alcohol keeping him company. He coughed a little as a few flower petals fell from his mouth.

He looked down towards the blue and purple petals. “Damn Forget Me Nots.” He whispered to himself.

As he shrugged off the flowers, he just sat and looked at the view of the city, sitting in one of the plastic chairs, trying to control his breathing.

Sunghoon was in a shitty mood, to say the least. Getting a call earlier today from his dad telling him to get over his disease and help his older brother with the family business was not what he wanted to wake up to. With his dad pestering him over an arranged marriage and possible “cures” to help him get “back on track with his life”,

Sunghoon was frustrated, wishing his dad would just stop.

He took another sip of the beer in his hands, feeling the wind blow its breeze lightly on his face.

You opened the entrance to the rooftop and sighed in awe. As the entrance was on the other side of where Sunghoon was sitting, you did not see him just yet.

You got your phone out of the pocket of your jacket and took pictures of the view. You took a deep breath, relieved of the fresh air. You felt suffocated, to say the least at the party and were finally happy to be alone for once.

The rooftop was decorated with hung lightbulbs in all four corners. You figured this was a spot people go to often to wind down and drink or have a midnight conversation at. It was decorated nicely, it was no wonder people liked to come up here.

You walked towards the other side of the rooftop to find someone sitting in a plastic chair alone. As you walk closer, you see a few bottles of beer with flower petals all over the area. You look in confusion, curious about where all the flower petals came from.

There were certainly no trees around unless this mysterious person was picking petals from flowers they brought up to the rooftop.

You then see Sunghoon sitting, staring at the view, sighing. As you took another step, he put down the bottle of beer he was drinking. You immediately text Chaehyun to tell Jake that Sunghoon is up on the rooftop.

“Jake, is that you?” Sunghoon asks softly with his back still turned towards the view.

“Oh, um, no.” You reply as you walk closer. “I was just here to get air.”

Sunghoon looked at you as he turned his head slightly. As you bend down, you pick up a blue flower petal and raise an eyebrow. “Forget-Me-Nots?”

“You-you know the petals of those flowers?”

“Yeah, actually they’re my favorite type of flowers.” You replied. “Where did you get so many of them to rip up these many petals?”

Sunghoon could not process what he was hearing. He just looked at you as you picked up some of the petals in awe. He did not reply, confused if he was hearing things correctly.

This was probably nothing but a small conversation, he thought to himself.

There is no way you would just show up in his life with the flowers that filled his lungs to be those favorite flowers of yours.

“Who hurt you?” You asked, looking up at him.

“It’s not a who it’s a what,” Sunghoon muttered as he looked back at the view, trying to deflect all the questions you asked.

You just looked at the petals in front of you, still in the same position. You picked up a petal, poking it with your finger, seeing it glisten under the lightbulbs that perched up above the both of you.

He then glanced back towards you who stood up, holding the petal in your hands.

You looked down at the petal in your hands and back up at Sunghoon, clicking your tongue. “It’s too bad you ripped them up. These flowers symbolize true love.”

Sunghoon started to feel his chest at ease. He held his chest a little, perplexed by this new still of calmness. He blinked his eyes quicker, thinking if his suspicions were just him unaware of what was going on at the moment. He put his hand down, sitting up a little. “Is that why you like those flowers?”

“Mhm.” You replied. “Oh, I’m Y/N by the way, Chaehyun’s best friend.”

As soon as Sunghoon was going to reply, Jake rushed in with Jay. The two looked a bit frazzled by the sight of the flower petals. You stepped back a bit as the two carried Sunghoon in their arms.

“Thanks, Y/N for letting Chaehyun know,” Jake said as he gently put Sunghoon’s left arm around him as Jay did for his right.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Tell Hee and Chaehyun we’re heading back to our apartment earlier. You’ll be okay here?” Jay asked.

You nodded your head, giving the boys a thumbs up. “No worries. Get home safely.”

Sunghoon felt too stunned as he turned his head back to you, feeling a bit defeated he didn’t properly introduce himself to you. He just kept his head down a little, feeling his chest start to tighten again.

As the boys bid farewell and walked back inside to the hallway, you glanced back at the sight in front of you.

You walked around the petals and glanced towards the view of the city in front of you. You slid the petal into your pocket, sighing. You then turned around and looked back at the rooftop, stunned by what just happened.

Sunghoon was the complete opposite of what you thought he would be.

And why did that intrigue you in the slightest bit?

prologue || 02

masterlist | main masterlist

#enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #park sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon x you #enha x reader #enha #enha imagines #enha scenarios #enha x you #enha x y/n

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holybibly · 7 months

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Divine Rosa ❢ot8xreader❣

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader ❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut ❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love. ❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior. ❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

English is not my native language, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know.

Published on AO3 like FleurRi

❣ Prologue: Roses scarlet like blood ❣

Every story has a beginning: a magical, inexplicable moment—an elusive contact between reality and dreams. When thoughts emerge from the edge of consciousness, a stream of colorless letters appears on the parchment of our fate, eventually becoming an event. Life's intersections, fragments of various plots, are continuously repeated, lost, or deliberately forgotten. They are like unwritten melodies; the echo of their angelic voices follows us through life, like the bright tent of a wandering circus that incessantly makes noise. is full of tinsel, and raves with dreams.

There are millions of them. No. Billions, like the sleeping stars, sway peacefully on the sky-blue wire; their scattered light tells the wayward souls the way in the velvet folds of the night's darkness. These are our memories. Some are dazzlingly bright, as fresh as summer breezes, while others are barely flickering, covered in the marble ashes of time and a diamond crumb of emotion. And they all live so far away and at the same time prohibitively close together, there, in the labyrinth of the underground sky and on the endless roads of the blood rivers, where it is impossible to find them: in our memory.

Just as a pebble thrown into the ocean sinks into the murky depths, so does memory. Drowning into the viscous muddy depths without a bottom, in that rich and uncharted area that we call “oblivion,” it sinks in time. And few of us have been given the opportunity to preserve living images of memories of the feelings we have ever experienced: to drown in the bittersweet water of sorrow and joy; to fill our consciousness to the brim, like a vessel with golden honey, with the feelings of pain and keen passion, and to die. Die happy. The greatest privilege of all.

Seconds, minutes, days, and years—colorful fragments of time; sharp crumbs scattered under our feet. Unlike us, those who plunge into eternal sleep, our memories that have insidiously dissolved in ink in our blood will not disappear. They fear death, flee from it, and hide in the thick of the earth that blossoms with fluttering glass, forget-me-nots and drunken petunias that, in their intoxicating happiness, kiss the eyelashes of the blind God. You hear them whisper, “I’ll never forget you…”

My story begins with an innocent question that I’m sure you’ve heard more than once: “Do you like roses?”

Once upon a time, I would have answered, "Yes, I love roses." But, as it turns out, all our words are followed by consequences, and small rosy spikes can be much more dangerous than they seem at first glance, just like in the fairy tales that we were told in childhood. You know, there are things that we might call fatal: people who decide other people’s lives as long as they reach out to them like they're God. And then there are the flowers, which keep the mysteries tenebrous and ancient. I'm almost a hundred years old, maybe more. I should start my story right now; this is the perfect moment.

I will tell you about who I once was and who I am now. I will tell you about love, which is akin to obsession, and the death of her faithful friend. I will also tell you about the people, ghosts, or maybe illusions that were around me. They were with me once… Now, there are others, but they’ll be in my story later. They will come into my life with a chorus of angelic voices; the sound of a heavy autumn downpour, and the pretentious solemnity of death. Yeah, they’ll be there, though, if you think about it, they were always there, from my first breath to my last breath, by my side. But I’m forgetting what’s important. I have to tell you about the roses, and only about them.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

Mina's long hair shimmered like luxurious silk under the early morning light. Bloody strands fell in curled doll curls onto her bare shoulders, as if in Baroque paintings. The lush blossoms of white roses woven together in her hair made her look like the ancient Greek goddess of spring. Her appearance has always been astonishing, blatantly perfect rather than real, but that was sometime in the past. Now she was like a pale ghost of herself, a blurry reflection on a black surface of water on a moonlit night. The only thing that reminded her of her former beauty was her hair, which remained perfectly groomed and scarlet, like blood. Oh yeah, there are still roses. These flowers… there was something unnatural about them, something otherworldly. Each petal was painfully perfect, as if made of satin. But the flowers were real; they were alive and breathing and too demanding. It seemed that just because they wanted this, Mina could wear them in her hair. It was their choice, not hers. “Do you like roses, Rosa?” · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

This is the moment when my life changed forever. If I had known that this innocent question would be the beginning of my end, but can this be called the end? Would my answer have been different?

I’ve thought about it a thousand times. Over and over again, I played this scene like a broken record, crossed my answer out of the script, wrote a new one, and made comments and footnotes, but… But the answer was the same. I couldn’t change anything; it was destined. Much later, when I fall asleep in a warm bed, I will feel a gentle kiss on my closed eyelids and hear San’s angelic voice whisper in my ear that fate is never wrong. That they would find me or that I would come to them does not matter; in the end, we would still be together in life and in death. In eternity.

I’ll come back to that later, I promise. In the meantime, I’ll continue. · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

“They’re beautiful, Mina, but I don’t like them anymore.” I sounded terribly rude from the outside, and I could see Mina’s eyes filled with tears, as if I had slapped her.

“But Rosa!” Mina reached out her pale arms to me. “Look how perfect they are; don’t you care about their beauty? Doesn’t your heart beat faster when you look at them? O Rosa, these flowers are special; they never wilt.” She shook her head, as if confirming her words. “Yeosang gave them to me before I left” Her long, thin fingers reaching for the white rosebuds in her hair. “I want to give you one.” Hooking the flower, Mina gently pulled it out of her curls and stretched it towards me. I didn't have the desire to accept her gift; something in her behavior and her voice caused me anxiety. And there was this name: Yeosang. It wasn’t the first time I heard it, but it was a long time ago, and I still remember that Mina mentioned others with that name: Hongjoong, San, and Mingi. They sounded familiar to me as a song once learned by heart. She pronounced them in a special way: with a gentle intonation and an exciting euphoria. As if it had been repeated countless times at the same completely new to her. All I could hear was the echo of that song, which came along with those names in the conversation. It was an ominous echo, like an impending, inevitable storm. Mina was still holding out a rose, and I looked at her hands. Arms with a faint web of blue veins that looked like dried stems of faint flowers. For some reason, I came up with the idea of sirens holding out their hands to pirates while their voices led them into the welcome embrace of death. Did they look like Mina’s hands now?

I remember these hands weaving long pearl threads into my hair during festivals. I remember the feeling of intertwined fingers as Mina led me down the dark corridors of my grandmother's old house. I remember them gently wiping my tears when I was rubbing my feet until I bled in ballet class.

I remember the touch of those hands… I know him. These cold fingers that so carefully hold the snow-white flower no longer belong to my sister. Their touch changed, becoming foreign and distant, as did the mysterious land where these perfect, never-fading roses grew.

Didn’t that sound like a fairy tale? Just in our history, there has been no magic mirror, no Queen-Witch whose crown shines like a star, and no apple full of poison, but there is a coffin of shimmering crystal, and a prince that sleeps in it. Of course, there are also roses—thousands of roses.

“Rosa” Mina turned to me again. “Please take them; you will surely love them. Just try to feel them…”

She put a flower in my hands. The drops of nectar froze on the wax petals, and the first rays of the dawn sun made them sparkle like diamonds. “This variety is special.” Her voice sounded soft. “It's called the Deva-Rosa. I want to show you where they grow. It’s so beautiful. I want you to come with me, Rosa. We’ll be there together, you and me.” Mina smiled dazzlingly, but something was wrong with that smile. The once-sensual kiss lips were painfully curved, the corners awfully lifted, like the forever-frozen smile of a Venetian mask, and the warm pink shade was gone.

I was always jealous of her lips. They were so tender, plump, and enticing. All her features attracted attention, but it was her lips that made Mina's beauty unique.

She shone like the sun, easily becoming the center of everyone's attention—a beautiful white swan. The main heroine of the story.

Then there was me, only a shadow of her perfection—gloomy and pale as the moon, the complete opposite of the burning heat and the sexuality of my sister. Unlike Mina's, my features were not sensual and breathtaking; no, they were old-fashioned, like those of a porcelain doll. I didn’t find myself ugly or unattractive; just ordinary. One of a hundred million. The classic tragic heroine of a Gothic novel, someone like me, doesn’t make it to the finale.

Now looking at Mina, I can no longer see her life; her fire has almost been extinguished, leaving embers smoldering. And only her hair, like a burning sunset, was the only bright spot in her appearance. They crimson her white dress like blood rivers in the snow.

“Rosa, come with me.” The touch of her hands was icy and gave me a nasty shiver. It wasn’t Mina anymore. “Let's go, please. We can admire roses together. We can be together, Rosa. Remember what we promised each other when we were kids? Forever.” Mina leaned towards me with her whole body, completely trespassing into my space, and with her intimacy came the suffocating, sugary smell of roses. It was a thick, enveloping aroma that instantly sat in the lungs. I thought that if I breathed it in deeper, these strange, unnatural flowers would sprout in my veins, intertwine with my bones, and create a new home for themselves in my body.

“No!” I exclaimed, pushing Mina away from me. “I don’t want that, Mina. I don’t want you or those freaking roses in my life.”

Suddenly on my feet, I took a few steps away from the pale Mina, who was staring at a rose that had fallen to the ground. Her posture was as vulnerable as that of a wounded animal, and her limp arms reached for the flower, which, surprisingly, began to darken and fade, touching the ground. In her eyes, once radiant with happiness and dreaming, stood tears, and her lips began to tremble. It was as if a child whose beloved toy had been mercilessly abused had fallen to her knees, picked up a dying bud, and, in despair, pinned it to her lips.

“How can you be so cruel, Rosa?” Mina whispered, her lips gently touching the petals. “You hurt them; it breaks their heart. Can’t you just accept their love? Accept the roses?” She continued to kiss the petals.

“What are you talking about, Mina? Whose love should I accept?” I asked cautiously. Her behavior began to frighten me.

“You must give yourself to them, Rosa; I must give you to them.” Mina ignored my question, methodically kissing a faded flower. His dead petals began to fall away, slowly, baring his heart. “O Rosa, the rose is a rose; the rose is a deva; the deva is a rose; is a rose.”

“Mina!” I called her by her name in an alarm. The entire situation had me in a state of primitive terror. Mina began slowly swaying from side to side in time to your words, all the while continuing to say, “Rose is a rose, the rose is a deva.” It was meaningless, like the ravings of a madman. The words were repeated in an endless circle, like a prayer or a ritual chant. Mina’s voice grew louder, higher, and higher until it broke, and abruptly she stopped all movement, standing there like a graceful statue.

Once I admired her every move; now I want to cover my eyes so I never have to see her again. What happened after became the most traumatic thing in my life. I can never forget it, no matter how much I want it. It seemed to be imprinted on my eyelids, and even after closing my eyes in my sleep, I couldn’t get rid of those memories.

Her movements were fleeting, like the wings of a butterfly. Here she is before me, tense and waiting, and then her throat crosses a ragged line, and blood rushes through her body like a waterfall.

Eyes shining from tears are wide open and so resemble smooth black pearls, and lips are opened as if waiting for a kiss. For a second, Mina's body stretched like a thin string and then softened, falling on the grass. I heard someone start screaming; the sound was so deafening and heartbreaking that I wanted to curl up in a ball and cover my ears with my hands, so I couldn’t hear.

I found myself screaming. I needed to call for help; I had to call an ambulance, and I had to try to help her. Put my arms around her neck and cover her gaping red velvet wound.

But I was yelling about something else instead. My name is not Rosa; you hear me, Mina! I am not her. · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

I awoke in a frenzy, sweating profusely and with a wildly pounding heart from an endlessly recurring nightmare.

This dream has haunted me for months since Mina’s funeral. Night after night, I have lived this sunrise over and over again. I didn’t like morning anymore; I started avoiding sunlight and hiding in the velvet folds of the night, sharing my loneliness with the darkness. I made the moon my friend, and the stars my silent witnesses.

My memory is folded paper, folded a thousand times. Sometimes, I want to unwrap it, but not completely: open the brittle edges of the fragile sashes, smooth out the folds and creases with my fingers, spread out the time sequence. Unwrap it just a little, and then fold again, mixing letters and days, reality and dreams. I never want to open the pages where the memories of that morning are stored. Every time I get almost to the end, moments before the final, I run away to the safety of happy days.

I try to come up with a new ending to this story, a different ending, but the dream comes to me like a cat, gently calling me into its embrace, and I find myself again in a place I don’t want to be.

It’s early in the morning, and the sun is just rising above the horizon, shimmering like a limitless purple-pink ocean.

In Mina’s crimson hair are snow-white roses, and her dress looks like an intricately woven ruffle and lace. Her pale hands holding flowers, her puffy lips in a painful smile, and her bare feet—the ground must be cold since it was the middle of October. Her blood… and the roses. And if it were possible to personify hatred and death, then for me, it would be roses.

I hated and despised these flowers with all my heart. They brought only sorrow and gloominess into my life. The beautiful symbol of mourning solemnity. They started it. They ended it all.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

I was sixteen when Mina first called me Rosa. One January afternoon, she came home with a basket of the most gorgeous flowers I’ve ever seen in my life. Scarlet like the blood of a rose, they were magnificent and perfect. From that day on, I became Rosa. Why did Mina start calling me that? She never spoke. But she completely forgot my real name. For the whole world, I was now Rosa. After this case, every day in our small apartment, the roses became more and more numerous, until every inch of free space was filled with scarlet buds. Their smell was suffocating, thick, and sticky like honey. It is absorbed into the skin, hair, and dissolved in the blood. It made me dizzy and nauseous, and I could taste it on my tongue with every breath. But it wasn’t just a smell. It was a color that screamed “red,” like blood itself. It poured over our house, coloring the entire apartment in a disturbing shade.

After that, every day in our house, the roses became more and more numerous until they filled all the surrounding space.

Soon, they became so numerous that our house looked like a tomb filled with scarlet petals hanging from the ceiling. We've been arranging here with all honors, breathing in a haze as imperceptible as rose-scented mist.

In all the time I lived there, not a single flower withered. It was frightening and exciting at the same time. Day followed night, and night gave way to day; but no petal lost its pristine beauty, and no bud bowed its heavy head in sorrow. There was not a single bouquet that would dilute this velvet sea with its mourning black.

And if that did happen, Mina cried long and hard over these flowers and blamed herself for not saving them. At night, I heard the sound of her apologies and her fanatical prayers.

Whether she prayed to God or to the Devil, I couldn't tell. I'll find out for whom these prayers were intended many years later.

Roses were always sent with a postcard and a box of expensive chocolates with some intricate filling. The box was necessarily in the form of a heart. The signature was also one; once the unchanged calligraphic handwriting deduced only one phrase, “For you,”

Mina never told me who gave her these magic flowers or why the roses didn’t wither.

I tried to ask her these questions several times, but she only brushed them off, throwing her long hair from one shoulder to the other and angrily declaring, “You must love them; you don't need to know more.”

Mina also dyed her hair scarlet, like roses.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Constantly surrounded by these flowers was unbearable, and one day I packed up all my things and moved in with a friend, leaving Mina alone in her regal rosary.

My first night away from home, away from the roses and Mina, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned anxiously in bed hour after hour; but the dream never came, and then the phone rang. Mina called. Crying, she begged to come home, and when I asked her why, she barely whispered, “The roses are wilted.”

I hung up, and Mina never called me again. Two years had passed. My life had changed, and I think my luck had smiled. I found wonderful friends who were eccentric and bright. I had a great and caring boyfriend, and the internship at ballet school was promising. Everything worked out perfectly, and there were no more roses.

Until my twentieth birthday, a huge bleeding bouquet of scarlet roses tied with topaz-embroidered ribbon appeared in my new apartment. The candy box was heart-shaped, and the caption read, “For You.”

I burned the bouquet, threw out the chocolate, and tore the note apart, and blew it to the wind.

No one was supposed to see or know. Even me. Exactly eight days after these flowers appeared, I got a call from former neighbors in the apartment complex Mina was still living in. I was urged to come and deal with the situation; the smell of rot and death was unbearable, and Mina didn't open the doors or answer the phone. I opened the door with my key. Opening it wide, I crossed the threshold and could not contain a short scream. All the once-luxurious roses had rotted, dripping thick, stinking jugs on the floor and accumulating in gleaming poisonous lakes. Every corner of the space was occupied by large vases with black velvet buds and tall candles. After my move, Mina got rid of all the furniture, leaving only the big bed, which was now covered with dried stems strewn with thorns.

This place was like a grave — cold and dark — where my sister was supposed to rest. Going deeper, I found no hint of Mina's presence. Absolutely nothing. Only putrid roses and an empty heart-shaped box.

Mina was gone. For a whole year, I tried to find her without success. Old friends, distant relatives, acquaintances, and any other connections she might have ever had—I checked everything, but there was nothing to help me find her. It’s like she never existed.

In the two years we’ve been apart, I didn’t know anything about her. Mina didn’t call, and when I tried to contact her, she would reply with a short message, always the same: "Roses have wilted; come back." just like the night I left her.

All Mina had ever thought about since that unfortunate January day were these sinister roses.

The police began an investigation. Two years after her disappearance, Mina became officially missing.

And a year after that, she showed up at my door in the twilight of the fall morning, barefoot, in a sophisticated lace dress with a rose crown on her head. From the Mina that I knew, all that remained was her hair—long, silky, and crimson like blood and roses.

She still kept calling me Rosa, calling me out, and promising that we’d be happy together. That it will be only us, forever. She promised to show me where these strange flowers bloom, which she called the Deva-Rose, although these were not her words, but those of someone distant and unfamiliar to me, Hongjoong.

And then...then Mina died. The dawn painted her body in pink shades, flooded the grass with sparkling gold, and dyed the white roses of her crown scarlet. She slit her throat. Ragged a sharp spike into it. As it turned out, even the tiniest rose spikes were deadly. It was a nightmarish and, at the same time, majestic end to her story. The image of Mina haunts me in dreams even now—this distant gaze in her pearly eyes and a complete absence of fear of death. No, Mina wasn't afraid. She welcomed death as an old friend, graciously opening her arms.

It was her exodus. I remember screaming loudly. Blood thundered in my ears, and tears flowed in an endless crystal stream. I screamed that my name wasn’t Rosa; that I wasn’t her, and never would be.

Her funeral was truly a royal one. Rain and thunder rattle in the sky, as if raising a toast in her honor. The flat haloes of the black umbrellas swayed peacefully as the guests made their sorrowful speeches.

Mina seemed to fall asleep, dressed in an old-fashioned wedding dress, lying there like a princess, drowning in thousands of roses. The flowers were brought at dawn. Their color was deep and dark, as if every petal was filled with the gloaming of the night. They mourned with me. But I knew better. It wasn’t the end; it was the beginning. Death follows life in an endless cycle of rebirth. When one flower fades, plant a new one. Back home that night, I found a black envelope at my door, sealed with a monogram wax seal.

It lacked an address and the sender's signature. The message was clear and concise. "I live for you, my Rosa."

· · • • • ✤ • • • · · I went to the window and opened the curtains with my newfound determination. It’s time to stop being afraid and run away. Whatever it is, I’ll find out what happened to Mina. Let her start it all, but I’ll be the one to finish the story. The last surviving girl.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · · How naive I was then, how stupid. The moth always flies to the flame, attracted by the warm fluttering light; he himself goes to his death.

I was that moth. Without realizing it, I came to my inevitable fate, which has been waiting for me for centuries, maybe longer. Their hands have stretched out since the darkest times, when the light didn't exist, and the Devil was as real as you and I. At that time, everyone knew his face, felt his hot breath on his skin. The story I’m going to tell you isn't going to be bright and sweet; we’re going to go down to hell and come back. I'll take you through the dark woods to the horrors of uncharted lands where barefoot priestesses rock their sharp teeth in alluring smiles. I will take you to the castle where the prince rests in a crystal coffin and make you drink wine that tastes like blood.

Now I have to ask you, "Are you afraid of the dark and what’s hidden in it?" But my question is, "Love, do you like roses?"

134 notes · View notes

hazbinfallinginaspiral · 1 month

Note

I could see one of the hobbies Retro picks up in their free time being embroidery. They start small and then the Vs start finding things added to clothes they asked Retro to repair or smaller items.

Velvette finds her handkerchief has her Vs logo sewn into it. With hearts added to the sleeve of her favourite nightwear she asked Retro to fix.

Vox finds little sharks and sea bunnies sewn into the cushion case Retro made for his screen office. His formerly torn jacket now repaired getting lightening patterns sewn around his cuffs.

Valentino would need someone to point our Retro stitched his Vs logo into his directors chair, though he did notice Retro added a pink smoke pattern around the hem of his skirt when they fixed it.

Plus I could see Retro's frilly house work apron gaining stitched references to the Vs on the pocket, which when they notice would make the three delighted as Retro wears the apron almost everywhere.

Yes!! They would definitely do this!

On another note, I’ve personally been getting into knitting and crochet and I can say that Retro would DEFINITELY be making a bunch of things for the Vs.

They’d make a lot of small sea bunnies and hide them around the tower, just to be found by anyone. Vox and Vel are competing to see who can find the most (Val is uninterested, seeing as he’s still searching for the guns he knows Retro is still hiding for him).

Angel Dust actually has quite a few that he keeps in his room. He brings one to the Hotel, and is showing it to Husk when the others see it. Alastor thinks it’s cute and an endearing little game, and like the others, he doesn’t think much of it. The general consensus is that it’s cute. Lucifer goes absolute batshit when he finds out, though. Like, goddamn this man fucking loves those little sea bunnies.

Next time he visits Retro, he requests little sea bunnies wearing different outfits and Reto LOVES the idea. They start working on rubber ducks and mini sea bunny plushies together.

Retro definitely crochets a few amigurumi sharks for Vox, too! From his favorites to just sharks in general. He has a collection, now, of all the shark themed gifts he’s received since that date at the aquarium with Retro. They’ve even gone a bit further, in making him a few hanging jellyfish lamps and even a seashell windchime. They were nervous about the windchime, so they asked Valentino about it and he thought it was amazing so he helped design and make it with them. I imagine Retro and Val end up doing crafts together often.

Speaking of Val! He keeps running out of good sheets and props for his sets (the sheets specifically keep getting torn, and there’s not much you can do to fix it after the fifth time). Then, he starts finding little repairs to it all. Somethings are just straight up replaced without him even needing to ask! Next to the object in question, there will be a little crocheted moth for him. He adores it.

He also ends up getting ceiling decorations, some knitted, some not. They’re little handmade flowers of all sorts, with matching vines and leaves. (I noticed his areas of the tower seemed to have more greenery, but I’m not sure if that’s for the sets or just his preference). Now, what he’s most surprised is the fact that there aren’t many roses. Roses are the go-to for people giving Val flowers, and he’s grown used to it. When he sees forget me nots, marigolds, tulips, carnations, he’s just. Awestruck. He loves it. He was never a fan of peonies, lilies, orchids, or daisies before, but sometimes Retro would come in with his clothes repaired and the little flowers embroidered on. Occasionally, he receives a flower crown (usually when Retro has time to go out, and they probably get Rosie’s opinion on it first). Val even comes to realize that he didn’t pay Sunflowers much mind before, but they’ve quickly become one of his favorites.

Velvette is a bit different. She doesn’t notice at first, but the fabric or clothes she dumps or deems as ‘trash’ keeps being added back into her collections, repurposed in some way. Sometimes the fabric is combined with some others, which sparks an idea for a new outfit. Sometimes she finds an outfit she previously hated just hanging neatly alongside all the others, a few small changes and some little embroidery. She realizes that those changes are what makes or breaks the outfit, and that she only really hated it because it had the potential to be so good, she was only frustrated she couldn’t seem to accomplish that. With the small changes Retro makes, it’s enough to push Vel in the direction she wants to go to make her outfits as amazing as she wants.

I’m also 90% sure that Vel receives arigurumi plushies of the Vees and Retro that can be dressed up like little dolls. She’s absolutely touched by this and keeps them around, mostly in her office. She can be seen designing little outfits for the dolls, sometimes.

43 notes · View notes

novasintheroom · 7 months

Text

A matter of time

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.8k

♡ Warnings - f!reader

♡ Description: A short drabble based on the November 2023 prompt list from @creativepromptsforwriting. Day 1: Crisp air.

“What’s this one?”

“A bluebell.”

“Hm. And that one?”

“Bleeding hearts. I forget their real name, though.”

You reached out and ran a finger gently on the heart-shaped petals. “They’re lovely. All of them.”

Vash felt a smile spread on his face. He was having fun watching you discover flora. The wonder in your eyes, that spark of a human loving nature long lost to the stars. He just wished he remembered all the plant names. If you asked about those purple flowers over there, he’d have to make something up. He’d do it, though, just to keep your wonder going, to see your lips map out the names.

“Do they all smell the same?” You ask, leaning forward from your seat to sniff at the bluebells, then the bleeding hearts. “They smell the same to me.”

Vash nodded, stretching out on his stomach to feel the grass more fully, just like when he was a kid. Home had that comforting way about it. Still, he felt the prickle of Luida and Brad’s gaze on you two near the entryway. He could barely hear their voices over the din of the vents turning on to create the crisp air in the greendome.

“Vash,” Luida called, “could you come here a moment?”

He knew it was coming. “Yeah,” he called back. He got up, wiping his pants and shirt of the blades of grass clinging to them. He left you alone to wonder at the sight of flowers.

Brad gave him a look when he came near. “So, do we need to get your girlfriend her own room, or do you two plan on sharin’?”

Vash’s ears went bright red. “Huh?”

Luida slapped Brad’s shoulder and glared. “Not how to ask, Brad!” Brad only shrugged, and Luida sighed. “We were just wondering…well, you’ve never brought anyone Home before, and we just wanted to know…?”

He should’ve seen this coming too, but honestly, he hadn’t thought about it. All he was concerned about at the time was getting you out of the hellish sandstorm that had appeared while travelling. Home just happened to be the closest shelter. Luida and Brad must be starved of gossip if they’re asking him this. Clearing his throat and looking over his shoulder, Vash made sure you weren’t listening in. “We’re not dating,” he said quietly, “we’re just friends.”

Luida has that older sister instinct in her, though. With a glint in her eye, she said, “But you like her, don’t you?”

He reached up and scratched at his neck. How did it get so hot in here? He tried to dodge. “What does it matter?”

Brad ‘hmphed’ and crossed his arms. “So that’s a yes.”

Luida let out a tiny squeal. She may be getting older, but she managed a few hops. “Oh, I’m so happy for you Vash! It’s about time you brought someone Home!”

They were acting like parents. “Woah, didn’t you hear me? We’re not dating!”

“But you will be,” Brad predicted. “The way you two act? Only a matter of time.”

Sputtering, Vash shook his head and backed away. “The way we act?”

Brad held up a hand and ticked off his fingers. “In the last twenty-four hours, you two have rarely left each other’s side, danced together, fallen asleep on each other’s shoulders, and held hands.” His smile was smug. “Only a matter of time, kid.”

“Are you stalking me?” Vash asked, his voice going pitchy with embarrassment. “You guys are weird. I’m leaving.” He turned and headed back to where you were sitting.

Luida called out, “Dinner will be served in an hour!”

Vash waved a hand in acknowledgement and laid back down by your side. You glanced over to him, fiddling with some forget-me-nots hiding under the leaves. “What did they want?” You leaned in closer. “Why’re you all red?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Nothing. They’re…it’s nothing.”

Your brows rose, but you shrugged and went back to admiring the flowers. He allowed himself a few seconds to stare, to follow the line of your nose to the curve of your lips, then back to your eyes. Lovely, he thought. Just as lovely as the flowers. Vash turned over to his back and looked up at the sky through the glass dome. It was clear, as always. He wondered if he’d ever see real clouds. Perhaps one day, when Luida’s work was completed.

Then, he felt your head on his stomach and looked down. You settled yourself on your back, then turned to look at him and gave him a dazzling smile. His stomach turned into crickets hopping all over his insides. All he could do was smile back, and start playing with your hair.

Only a matter of time, Brad’s words echoed in Vash’s head. Deep down, he only hoped he was right.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #tristamp #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #reader insert #nova writes #self insert #writing #the stupid #first line won't paragraph indent no matter what i do #im angry

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