Hi there! :) I'm writing for multiple fandoms, so if you have any requests, just ask!
The fandoms I write for are:
- Record of Ragnarok
- Twisted Wonderland
- Demon Slayer
- Genshin Impact
- Honkai Star Rail
- Hunter x Hunter
- Jujutsu Kaisen
- Arcane (yk, the one on Netflix)
- Slashers (OGs, Remakes and Games)
And many more, so just ask and I'll look it up! :)
Characters: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt
Michael Myers (RZ)
• You've been special since you were a kid. Something traumatic happened in your childhood that your relatives sent you to Smiths Grove. Although you were otherwise a calm child, so they visited you, brought you sweets and toys. You were just being weird. And dangerous.
• Michael didn't talk to anyone after the incident, especially at the hospital. He wasn't particularly bothered by other people's company. But you managed to catch his eye. This often happened at general meals at the hospital. The children were brought here in groups, you were in "his group." The other kids in the room seemed to be.. veggies like, because they were constantly being stuffed with pills and sedatives. But you didn't make the local doctors uncomfortable, so you were still sane. And Michael saw that sane. Oh, there was something special about you. He could almost swear that you were surrounded by some incredible light that attracted him. His mother had the same light, the light of an innocent, pure soul.
• Your "friendship" was strange. It's just that at some point you decided to sit at the table with the boy with paints and crayons while he was making another mask. You just calmly sat down next to him, looked at his pumpkin mask for a couple of minutes and handed him your big glitter markers. You didn't say anything, but it seemed like the two of you didn't need words to understand each other.
• As it turned out, the walls of the hospital also made you a creative person, even though you were just painting. Now the nurses saw you and Michael sitting quietly together in a corner surrounded by art supplies. There was a strange symbiosis in your couple. You passed paints and pencils to each other without words, or just evaluated each other's work without saying a word. The doctors considered it a good sign of recovery, but it was more than that.
• At dinners, you didn't sit across from each other, but sat next to each other and held hands. You gave him your pudding boxes, and he gave you your favorite juice. It was as if you were one organism that was divided into two bodies, two kindred spirits who finally met and found peace next to each other. And it was strange in its own way.
• Loomis admired your "communication." He even began to rejoice that Michael was finally feeling better. He even started trying to arrange therapy sessions for the two of you, but you two just sat there and said nothing. Or you could start talking for two, but you didn't talk too much. It's enough for Loomis to start feeling hopeful, not enough for him to notice progress.
Jason Voorhees
• You came to this camp for the first time, but from the very beginning you failed to make good friends. It seemed that all the children knew each other and immediately divided into small interest groups. But it didn't bother you much, after all, you knew how to have fun alone. You also had a sweet tooth. And you loved the days when they made sweet soft buns with small berries on top. And you decided to take a desperate step and made your way to the kitchen. To steal some more.
• What was your surprise when you found someone in the kitchen.. a boy. The boy looked strangely small for his age, although for some reason you were sure that you were the same age. He was small, thin, and looked unhappy. Although you saw a woman coming up to him from time to time (she was the one who baked your favorite buns, you remember that) and calming him down. Obviously, it was his mom. You were genuinely sorry for this boy, he must have had no friends because of his peculiar appearance. He must have been sick or something. And you came over. At first, the boy was afraid of you, but you quickly gained his trust. This boy's name was Jason.
• You began to communicate quite well, you found out that his mother works as a cook at the camp and that's why he spends his entire summer here. Jason turned out to be an incredibly kind and nice guy. You painted with him, fed the forest squirrels together, and picked berries near the camp. You really liked this boy because he was sincere, with a big heart. And when Pomela Voorhees saw that her boy had a real friend, she started giving you extra buns from the kitchen. Well, that's a nice bonus. On bun day evenings, you often sat with Jason in his cabin with a cup of juice and a plate of buns. It was insanely good.
• You're very good with your hands and you love making things, so you and Jason built a real house in the woods and set it up as your secret hideout. It's also convenient to hide from other children from the camp, so the two of you often use it to avoid running into bad guys.
• Since Jason's mom works at the camp, he spends his entire summer here. That's why you asked your parents to keep you here for a few more shifts. Jason was incredibly grateful to you for that.
• When you finally left, you promised Jason that you would come back every summer and even asked for his address so that you could write letters to him. Jason read every one of them. He also cut out the cute stickers and stamps that you put on your letters, so he got a separate notebook with your letters and drawings. This is his main treasure.
Bubba Sawyer
• Moving to such an insanely hot place was not your choice, but, of course, your parents did not ask you. While they were sorting things out, you were sent to get acquainted with the neighbors. You reluctantly went to the neighboring plot. Already near someone else's house, you noticed a boy sitting on a swing. He was chubby, not very tall, and had insanely curly hair. He was sitting on a swing and cradling a baby doll in his arms. He awkwardly patted the doll on the back and made unhappy noises every now and then, adjusting the tiny cap on his doll's head. An interesting boy.
• At first, Bubba (as you learned from the boy's mom) just froze on his swing and pretended that he wasn't there. At the same time, he was still clutching his baby doll and trying to cover it with himself. Cutie. It turned out that the boy is much older than you, although his behavior does not show it. When his mother came out, the boy began desperately hiding behind her and clinging to her skirt. The woman explained to you that Bubba was a "special boy", that despite his age, he was still small. Literally. It was a little hard for you to understand, but as soon as you looked into those scared puppy dog eyes of Bubba, you felt.. sorry for him. It must have been uncomfortable. The boy had his own unique world, and the people around him didn't understand him. And other kids could bully. You sincerely wanted to make friends with this cutie.
• It took time for your friendship. You brought him your toys, books, and sweets. Bubba was afraid at first, but over time he got used to you. You've become a frequent guest at the Sawyer house. You've even been invited to barbecue nights. As soon as Bubba opened up to you, he became insanely tactile. He likes to put his head on your lap while the two of you are sitting in the garden and you are reading some fairy tale aloud to him. Bubba loves hugging you and carrying you in his arms like the most precious treasure (he's strong enough, so that's not a problem). Bubba introduced you to his "kids," who turned out to be a few cute dolls on his bed. Despite the pressure of the brothers, Bubba is an insanely homely guy, he likes to take care of someone and something, grow flowers and help his mother in the kitchen. At such moments, he looks really grown up.
• Bubba taught you how to bake pies. He's really good at cooking, especially baking, so he decided to share it with you. He's a quiet boy, and cooking is relaxing in its own way. Although he doesn't mind if he cooks and you just taste it. Every time he gives you a piece to try, his eyes shine with joy and anxiety at the same time, he just wants to feed you deliciously.
• The Sawyers accepted you as their family pretty quickly and really considered you to be one of their own. Bubba's mom just laughed softly and said, "Bubba has a fiance now." Typical adult jokes. But Bubba just muttered to himself and looked away, blushing deeply. He liked the idea.
Thomas Hewitt
• You saw this boy at school. He was scared and withdrawn, with these permanent bandages on his face. You just felt sorry for him. And the other kids bullied him, the older boys. They kicked his textbook bag, tore up his notebooks, and beat him. It was the same that time. When the offenders were briefly distracted, Thomas quickly packed his things into a backpack and rushed away, home. You saw several textbooks and a couple of torn notebooks that he forgot. It might not be your body, but you decided to take it to him.
• You added a couple more of your blank notebooks to the textbooks because Thomas's notebooks were ruined. You knew that his mom worked at a stall next to the gas station, so you went there. She was a very nice woman. She was very touched that you decided to help her boy, so she gave you lemonade and asked you to wait. Thomas came out of the back room of the store. He must have been helping his mom and carrying heavy boxes because his clothes were a little sweaty. When Thomas saw you, he was tense at first, but your gift made him freeze in place. Why are you giving him this? Is this some kind of weird joke? But Luda just patted her son's hair and said thank you. Thomas nodded curtly.
• This was the beginning of your peculiar friendship. Thomas turned out to be a pretty nice boy, so you often began to bring something delicious from home for him (you saw that he usually didn't have lunch with him). At first, he ate like a stray puppy, quickly and nervously, because he thought that at any moment you could pick up this delicious food. But you brought more and more. Thomas has begun to trust you. And one day he brought a toy to school, sewn from different pieces of cloth. Despite the mottled color, the toy bunny came out quite cute and neat. You started carrying it in your backpack.
• Thomas didn't want to show you his face until the last moment, he was afraid that you would get scared and stop being friends with him. But one day he got beaten up too much, and you saw a lot of blood on his old bandages. You were sitting in a small clearing near the school, under sparse trees, where Thomas often hid. You tried to persuade him to let you help him, but he just shook his head and whined in pain. In the end, you knocked him to the ground and carefully removed the bandages. It.. it looked incredibly painful. His face and missing nose. Thomas squeezed his eyes shut, expecting curses or a punch. You took clean bandages out of your backpack (and you wore them, knowing how often Thomas was taken away and how often his knees were beaten) and began to wash the blood. Then you put healing ointment on the sores and used new bandages. You gave him a quick peck on the forehead over the bandages and called him a "good boy," knowing how vulnerable he could be. Looks like it was the first time Hewitt cried on your lap.
• He only graduated from secondary school because it was difficult for him to study, but Thomas didn't worry too much about it. Now he spent almost all his time at home and helped with the housework. Charlie told him that he would soon go to work at the slaughterhouse to help the family with money, he liked the idea. He hid some of his first earned money and saved it for a long time. Thomas bought a necklace, a beautiful one, on a slightly darkened chain, but beautiful. With a big red stone. It was probably plastic, but still. In one of your meetings, Thomas made a pie himself and gave you this necklace. He knows that when people get married, they give each other rings, although he doesn't really understand why exactly the rings are. He just hopes that you'll like his necklace too.
Ineffable father figures when you’re feeling clingy/cuddly
Fandom: Good Omens
gn!reader, no use of y/n
A/N: I love doing reqs but this one is purely self indulgent lmao. I love imagining these dorks as my dads <3
• It wouldn’t matter how often you felt like this, they’d never make you feel like a burden for wanting them. You’d probably get some sarcastic remarks, maybe told to wait a bit, but they always had a way of making sure you knew you weren’t a bother.
• If you were at a point where you knew their true identities, Crowley would probably make remarks about demons and cuddling, but in the end you'd never be denied.
• If you're the type of person to just go up to them and hug them they'd definitely just wrap you in their arms and make sure everything is alright with you
• If you get more clingy after things like nightmares they’d hold you close as they reassure you it’s not real, that your safety is guaranteed when you’re with them.
• If you prefer to curl up in their laps that’s more than welcome too. Aziraphale might read to you, or Crowley would tell stories of his personal exploits.
• If you don’t like it when other people hug you first then that’s also fine with them, even if they don’t understand it or tease you for the incongruent preferences.
• Aziraphale typically holds you close, while Crowley would firmly wrap his arms around you.
• There would definitely be lots and lots of group hugs between the three of you.
• Crowley has gotten surprisingly good at lullabies and comforting throughout his time taking care of Warlock, and those would be skills he’d put to use if you’re ever in need. (He’d deny it ever happened once you’re feeling better)
• Aziraphale would probably use you as an excuse to shoo away any prospective customers. Hard to do business when your kid is clinging onto your arm!(No matter how old you are).
• Crowley wouldn’t let anyone else see it. Not because he was embarrassed by you or that he was helping (Your trust would mean the world to him) but because it’s just not a good look for a demon.
• If you needed a lot of pressure Aziraphale would miracle a weighted blanket. Alternatively, Crowley was more than willing to turn into a snake you wrap himself around you.
• If they couldn’t help you out immediately they’d miracle up your favorite plushie or blanket and make sure you knew they’d be there as soon as they could. (These circumstances would be exceedingly rare, but they would happen)
•If you’re feeling particularly low energy you’d curl up next to them on the couch as you put your head in either one of their chests or lap and they’d play with your hair to let you know they’re there for you.
• Even if they’re upset with you for one reason or another they just can’t say no to you when you look at them with your pleading eyes.
• Aziraphale abide by cat rules. AKA if the cat is on top of you then you can’t move. Except you’re the cat.
• Crowley would just throw you off of him if he needed to get up. Despite this, he would let you cling to him as he saunter off. He also wouldn’t dare move you if you were asleep but he’d never admit it.
• If you’re feeling particularly upset they’d let you bury your face into their shoulder as you cried. They wouldn’t care about you getting their clothes dirty in the slightest.
• You could never be a burden to either one of them. No matter how much Crowley teases you or how many books you pull Aziraphale out of, they’d always be willing to just hold you in their arms.
• Your cuddliness would honestly make their day. A reminder of all that they saved, despite how long it’d taken them to get there. You made them feel like it was worth it.
synapse: y/n brings loki to work at the diner, where burnt coffee, rude customers, and one act of unwanted attention push the prince of asgard to his limit
pairing: loki odinson x female reader
contains: slow burn, harassment, humor
a/n: i published my loki imagine just three days ago and it immediately got so many likes, thank you! so in return i hotboxed under my blanket and wrote this for three hours at one a.m.
. . .
Y/N woke to sunlight burning directly across her face.
She groaned, rolled toward the wall and pulled the blanket over her head.
For several blissful seconds, she forgot everything. The diner. The flash in the sky. The crater. The unconscious man tied to her skateboard. The naked god standing in her kitchen.
Her eyes opened beneath the blanket. “Oh, shit.”
Y/N threw it aside and sat up too quickly. The room tilted. She braced one hand against the mattress until the dizziness passed, then grabbed her phone from the nightstand.
12:08 p.m.
She had slept for nearly seven hours. More importantly, she had willingly slept for nearly seven hours with a self-proclaimed god loose in her apartment.
A god who had threatened to turn her into something unpleasant. A god who could stop objects in midair. A god who, unless she had hallucinated from exhaustion, possessed absolutely no sense of modesty.
Y/N listened.
The apartment was quiet. No crashing furniture. No screams from the neighbors. No ominous chanting.
She slipped out of bed and opened the bedroom door cautiously. “Loki?”
No answer.
Y/N stepped into the hallway.
The bathroom door stood open. His armor was no longer spread across the floor where she had left it to dry. The towels had been folded and stacked beside the bathtub.
She continued toward the living room. Then stopped.
Her apartment was clean.
Not simply cleaner than she remembered.
Clean.
The throw blankets had been folded into neat squares over the back of the couch. Her discarded shoes had been paired beside the wall. The pile of textbooks on the coffee table had been arranged from largest to smallest, with her loose papers stacked beneath them. Even the abandoned laundry basket had disappeared.
Y/N looked slowly around the room. The empty mugs from earlier were gone. The cushions had been straightened. The floor had been swept. Her laptop sat closed in the center of the table with its charger carefully wound beside it.
“What the hell?”
“You’re awake.”
Y/N spun around.
Loki sat near the window in the armchair, one ankle resting across the opposite knee. He had managed to put on most of his repaired clothing, though the heavier armor remained absent. The black and green layers fit closely around him, the fresh stitches visible near one shoulder and along his side. He held one of her textbooks open in his lap.
The sight of him there, dressed, composed and entirely at ease made the events of the previous night feel even more surreal.
“You…cleaned.”
His eyes returned to the page. “I restored a small degree of order.”
“You cleaned my whole apartment…”
“I found continued exposure to its condition intolerable.”
Y/N stared at him.
Loki turned another page. “You live like a Midgardian slob.”
Her mouth dropped open. “A what?”
“A slob.”
“I know what you said.”
“Then why did you ask?”
Y/N crossed the room and smacked him lightly on the upper arm.
Loki looked down at the place she had struck.
Then slowly up at her.
The expression on his face suggested no one had dared do such a thing in several centuries. “You struck me.”
“You called me a slob.”
“It was an observation.”
“It was rude.”
“It was the truth.”
She raised her hand again.
Loki caught her wrist before she could hit him, his fingers closing around it with effortless speed.
Y/N froze.
His grip was not painful.
If anything, it was remarkably careful.
Loki glanced from her hand to her face. “You have a troubling habit of assaulting those who could destroy you.”
“You have a troubling habit of insulting the person letting you sleep on her couch.”
“I did not sleep.”
“That explains why you reorganized my books like a serial killer.”
“They were arranged without regard for subject, size or language.”
“They were arranged by where I dropped them.”
“Precisely.”
Y/N tugged her wrist.
Loki released it immediately.
She rubbed the spot more from awareness of his touch than discomfort.
Then a thought struck her.
Her eyes widened.
“Wait.”
Loki watched as she turned toward the television stand. “What?”
“Did you touch my bag?”
“Which bag?”
“The little plastic one.”
“That does not narrow the possibilities.”
“The one with the funny-smelling flowers.”
His brow furrowed.
Y/N hurried across the room and dropped onto her knees beside the low wooden stand supporting the television. She reached beneath it, fingers feeling along the hidden space between the bottom shelf and the wall.
Nothing.
Her stomach dropped. “No, no, no.”
She leaned farther down, nearly pressing her cheek against the carpet.
Loki closed the textbook. “What have you lost?”
“My weed.”
“Your what?”
“My bag.”
“You have several.”
“The flowers, Loki.”
“I found no flowers.”
“They don’t look like regular flowers. They’re dried and green and kind of—” Her fingers brushed plastic. “Oh, thank God.” She glanced Loki. “Or Gods…”
Y/N dragged the small bag from its hiding place and held it against her chest.
Loki stared at it.
She quickly checked that it was still sealed and that the contents appeared untouched.
Everything was there.
She released a breath.
“You hid vegetation beneath your viewing apparatus?” Loki asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s illegal.”
Loki’s expression changed from confusion to interest. “You conceal forbidden substances inside your home.”
“It sounds worse when you say it like that.”
“What purpose do these flowers serve?”
Y/N tucked the bag back beneath the television stand. “They help me relax.”
“You consume them?”
“Sometimes.”
“By eating them?”
“No.”
“You brew them?”
“…Not usually.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then how?”
Y/N stood and brushed the dust from her knees. “I smoke them.”
Loki was silent for a moment. “You set the plant aflame.”
“Basically.”
“And inhale the fumes?”
“Yeah.”
“Intentionally?”
“Yes, Loki.”
He leaned back in the chair, considering this new information. “Midgardians are even stranger than I believed.”
“You’re the one who fell out of space.”
“That was not intentional.”
“Neither was me needing stress relief during college.”
Y/N wandered into the kitchen, opening cabinets as she went.
Her stomach felt hollow, and the scent of the eggs she had made earlier lingered faintly in the room.
She checked the refrigerator. There was not much to work with. Bread. Cheese. Half a package of deli turkey. A tomato that needed to be used before it became a biological hazard. Grilled sandwiches, then.
Loki appeared in the kitchen doorway behind her.
She looked over her shoulder. “You’re moving better.”
“I am recovering.”
“Your ribs?”
“Satisfactory.”
“That means they hurt.”
“It means they are satisfactory.”
Y/N retrieved a frying pan. “Sit down before you fall down.”
“I have already explained that I do not fall.”
“You fell through the sky.”
His expression darkened.
She winced. “Right. Sensitive subject. Sorry.”
Loki moved toward the small table but did not sit. Instead, he watched as she laid slices of bread on the counter. “What are you preparing?”
“Lunch.”
“It is barely morning.”
“It’s noon.”
“That is an absurd hour to rise.”
“I worked all night rescuing a dramatic alien.”
“God.”
“Alien god.”
“Do not call me that.”
Y/N placed cheese over the bread. “You’re from another planet.”
“Asgard is not a planet in the crude manner you understand such things.”
“Different world, realm, floating space kingdom. Alien enough.”
Loki looked offended by every option.
Y/N added turkey to one sandwich. “…Do gods eat turkey?”
“Do you possess anything more substantial?”
“No.”
“Then apparently we do.”
She smiled and assembled the second sandwich.
Loki’s gaze drifted back toward the living room. “These forbidden flowers…”
Y/N sighed. “What about them?”
“They’re meant to help you relax?”
“Yes, they can help you relax or help you deal with pain.”
“They help with pain?”
“They can.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. They make your body relax. Everything feels less intense.”
“They alter the mind.”
“Yes.”
“Like wine.”
“…Kind of, but different.”
“More potent?”
“Depends.”
“Dangerous?”
“It can be if you’re stupid, but it’s not like you’re going to drop dead from smoking a little.”
“You hid it as though possession invites execution.”
“It doesn’t. I could get arrested, though.”
“For possessing a plant.”
“Welcome to America.”
Loki considered that with visible disdain.
“Your rulers forbid it, yet you keep it within your dwelling.”
“Quietly.”
“You admitted its existence to me.”
“You already know I dragged a stranger home from the desert. I think we’ve skipped the normal trust-building process.”
She buttered one side of each sandwich and placed them in the pan.
One landed slightly crooked.
Loki’s eyebrows rose.
“Elegant.”
“Shut up.”
His mouth curved faintly.
Y/N looked at him over her shoulder. It was the first time she had seen him appear genuinely relaxed. Only slightly, and only for a moment, but the sharpness around his eyes had eased.
He noticed her watching and the expression vanished. “Why do you look at me so?”
“I’m checking whether you’re about to pass out.”
“A transparent falsehood.”
“You ask too many questions.”
“And you avoid half of them.”
“I answer all of them.”
“With simplicity intended to make further inquiry difficult.”
“That’s because most things aren’t as complicated as you want them to be.”
“Everything is complicated.”
“Grilled cheese isn’t.”
Loki glanced toward the pan. “You have added flesh to it.”
“Turkey.”
“Therefore, it is no longer merely grilled cheese.”
Y/N stared at him. “You’ve been awake for less than a day, and you’re already correcting my sandwich terminology.”
“It required correction.”
She plated the food and slid one toward him.
Loki finally sat.
He inspected the sandwich.
Y/N sat across from him and picked up her own. “You eat it with your hands.”
“I had gathered as much.”
“Just making sure, Your Highness.”
He lifted it with obvious reluctance and took a bite.
Y/N waited.
Loki chewed.
His expression remained carefully neutral.
“Well?”
“It is adequate.”
“You like it.”
“I said it was adequate.”
“You ate half of it in one bite.”
He ignored her and took another.
Y/N smiled into her sandwich.
For a few minutes, they ate in relative silence.
Then Loki spoke again. “Would the flowers affect me?”
Y/N looked up. “What?”
“Your illicit vegetation.”
“I don’t know.”
“You claimed it’s meant to relax and eases pain.”
“In humans.”
“I resemble one closely enough.”
“You also fell through space, caught a towel with your mind and called yourself a god.”
“All accurate.”
“So I’m not using you as a science experiment.”
His eyes narrowed. “I require no protection from your minor mortal intoxicants.”
“Last night, you couldn’t walk across the room without holding onto something.”
“I was injured.”
“You’re still injured.”
“I am significantly improved.”
Y/N studied him.
He did look better, but there was still strain around his mouth whenever he shifted. The bandage beneath his clothes pulled slightly across his ribs.
“If the pain gets bad again,” she said, “maybe I’ll let you try some.”
Loki’s eyebrows lifted. “You will let me?”
“It’s my weed.”
“You presume authority over what I place within my own body.”
“No. I presume authority over whether you smoke my limited supply.”
His gaze sharpened with amusement. “You would deny a prince relief?”
“If the prince is annoying, yes.”
“I could just simply take it.”
“You’d have to find the hiding spot again.”
“I watched you retrieve it.”
Y/N stopped chewing.
Loki smiled.
Slowly.
Smugly.
“You said you didn’t touch it.”
“I did not.”
“But you know where it is.”
“I possess eyes.”
She pointed at him with the remaining half of her sandwich. “You better leave it alone.”
“I have no desire to inhale burning shrubbery.”
“Good.”
“…Unless curiosity compels me.”
“Loki.”
“Or pain.”
“You don’t even know how to smoke.”
“A skill I am certain I could master.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes.
He took another bite of his sandwich, looking unbearably pleased with himself.
“You know,” she said, “I liked you better when you were unconscious.”
“A lie.”
“See? This is why people hit you.”
“So far, only you.”
“Give it time.”
Loki regarded her across the table.
The apartment was bright with midday sun now, and the tension that had filled it hours earlier had faded into something stranger.
Not comfort.
Not yet.
But the beginnings of familiarity.
He had cleaned while she slept.
She had woken and made him lunch.
He insulted her home.
She threatened to withhold illegal flowers.
It was absurdly domestic for two people who had met beside a crater less than twelve hours earlier.
Y/N finished her sandwich and stood to rinse her plate.
Behind her, Loki spoke. “Why keep something that places you at risk?”
She turned on the faucet. “Because I like it.”
“That is your entire justification?”
“…Uh-huh. Pretty much.”
“No elaborate philosophy?”
“Nope.”
“No rebellion against your rulers?”
“I’m not starting a revolution, Loki. I just like getting high sometimes.”
He appeared disappointed by the lack of deeper meaning.
Y/N glanced back at him. “You really do make everything complicated.”
“And you make everything simple.”
“Someone has to.”
Their eyes met.
For a moment, Loki said nothing.
Then his attention lowered to the sandwich still in his hand.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Perhaps someone does.”
“Exactly.”
. . .
Y/N had exactly forty-three minutes before she needed to leave for work.
Which should have been plenty of time.
It was not.
She stood in front of her bathroom mirror with a toothbrush between her teeth, attempting to pull her hair into something resembling an intentional style while Loki occupied the hallway directly outside the door.
“Do you always prepare for labor with such urgency?” he asked.
Y/N spat toothpaste into the sink.
“I overslept.”
“You rose at midday.”
“I work late.”
“You also slept late.”
“Thank you for explaining how sleep works.”
Loki leaned one shoulder against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He had put his repaired clothing back on, though he had left most of the armor stacked neatly beside the couch.
The dark fabric and leather made him look slightly less out of place than the full green-and-gold armor had, but only slightly.
He still looked like he had wandered out of a medieval war and into a second-floor apartment in New Mexico.
Y/N wiped her mouth and reached for her makeup bag.
Loki watched her pull out a tube of mascara. “What is that?”
“Makeup.”
“For what purpose?”
“To look less tired.”
“You remain tired.”
“Yes, but now people might not know.”
He considered that. “So it’s deception.”
“It’s mascara.”
“A cosmetic deception.”
Y/N twisted around to look at him. “Do you have to classify everything I do as some form of manipulation?”
“You conceal exhaustion by altering your appearance.”
“I’m putting black stuff on my eyelashes, Loki. I’m not overthrowing a government.”
“Not with that attitude.”
She stared at him for a moment.
Then she turned back to the mirror before he could see her smile.
It was strange how quickly his presence had begun to feel less alarming.
Not normal.
There was nothing normal about having a god watching her get ready for a closing shift.
But familiar, somehow.
He had been in her home for less than a day and already behaved as though every decision she made required examination.
Y/N applied mascara to one eye.
Loki continued watching.
Y/N lowered the mascara in her hand. “You’re making me nervous.”
“I have done nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I am observing.”
“That’s staring.”
His reflection regarded hers in the mirror. “You alter only the area surrounding your eyes.”
“I’m going to work, not a wedding.”
“What has marriage to do with it?”
“Nothing. It means I’m not doing full makeup.”
“And your employers require this?”
“No.”
“Then why bother?”
Y/N lowered the mascara wand. “Because I like how it looks.”
He seemed almost disappointed by the uncomplicated answer. “That’s all?”
“That is all.”
His gaze remained on her reflection. “It is pleasing.”
Her hand stopped.
Y/N looked at him through the mirror.
Loki’s expression revealed nothing. He had delivered the compliment as though offering an objective assessment of the weather.
“What?”
“The darkening around your eyes,” he said. “It suits you.”
“Oh.” She turned back toward the sink, suddenly more interested in returning the mascara to its tube than necessary. “Thanks.”
Loki tilted his head slightly, studying the warmth rising in her cheeks.
Y/N immediately changed the subject.
“So, about tonight.”
His expression sharpened.
“You’re welcome to stay here while I’m at work.”
“I require no permission.”
“You do when it’s my apartment.”
His lips pressed together.
Y/N stepped around him and returned to her bedroom. Loki followed as far as the doorway while she pulled on her diner uniform shirt.
“You can stay,” she continued, buttoning it, “or you can leave. I’m not holding you prisoner.”
“We established that I am presently unable to depart this realm.”
“I meant the apartment.”
“I am aware.”
She tucked the shirt into her pants and glanced toward him. “But there are rules.”
Loki’s brow lifted. “You propose rules for me?”
“Yes.”
“A prince of Asgard.”
“A prince of Asgard who is sleeping on my couch.”
His expression cooled.
Y/N began counting on her fingers. “You’re not allowed to touch my weed.”
“I have no interest in your foul-smelling vegetation.”
“You were asking a lot of questions about it.”
“Curiosity is not desire.”
“Good. Then leaving it alone should be easy.”
She lifted a second finger. “And you’re not allowed past the kitchen entryway.”
Loki stared at her.
“What?”
“Kitchen, living room and bathroom are fine. My bedroom is off-limits.”
“You left me unattended in your dwelling, yet fear I may enter one particular chamber?”
“I don’t fear it. I’m telling you not to.”
“What do you conceal there?”
“My stuff.”
“A compelling mystery.”
“It isn’t a mystery. It’s clothes, homework and laundry.”
“Then why prohibit entry?”
“Because it’s private.”
Loki’s expression remained unreadable.
Y/N narrowed her eyes. “…You already went in there, didn’t you?”
His silence answered her.
Her mouth fell open. “You did.”
“I sought to determine whether you had been truthful.”
“You opened my door while I was sleeping?”
“You might have been plotting against me.”
“I was unconscious.”
“Yes. I discovered that.”
Y/N stared at him in disbelief. “And you didn’t think to mention this?”
“It appeared unnecessary.”
She grabbed a hairbrush from her dresser and pointed it at him. “No bedroom.”
“I have already seen it.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to go back.”
“I could enter without your knowledge.”
“You could also not be creepy.”
The word seemed to offend him more than any threat had. “I was not being creepy.”
“You watched me sleep.”
“I confirmed that you slept.”
“From the doorway?”
Loki hesitated for half a second.
Y/N’s eyes widened.
“You came inside?”
“I took several steps.”
“Loki!”
“You were unharmed.”
“That’s not the point!”
“It is very much the point.”
She lifted the hairbrush as though considering throwing it.
Loki’s eyes flicked toward it. “Do not.”
“You’d catch it.”
“I would.”
“That would somehow make me angrier.”
Y/N set it down with deliberate care. “No weed. No bedroom. Don’t answer the door, don’t touch the stove, and don’t use my phone to call another realm.”
“Your device is incapable of such communication.”
“Good. One less concern.”
Loki remained in the doorway while she gathered her purse and searched for her keys. “And if I elect not to remain here?”
Y/N looked up. “Then come with me.”
“To the establishment where you serve food?”
“The diner.”
“I recall.”
“You’d have to sit there for several hours, though.”
“I have endured longer periods in less dignified locations.”
“Great. Then you can keep me company.”
His gaze sharpened slightly at the words.
Y/N did not notice. She was too busy searching beneath a stack of papers.
“Where are my keys?”
“Beside the entry.”
She stopped. “How do you know?”
“I placed them there.”
“Of course you did.”
She walked into the living room and found them centered neatly on the small table beside the door.
Loki followed.
Y/N glanced over his repaired Asgardian clothing.
“You can’t wear that.”
His expression turned dangerous. “Why not?”
“Because everyone will stare at you.”
“They already do.”
“More than usual.”
“That is hardly my concern.”
“It becomes my concern when my manager thinks I brought a fantasy convention performer to work.”
Loki looked down at himself. “These are the garments of Asgardian royalty.”
“And they’re very nice.”
“Nice?”
“Beautiful. Majestic. Extremely prince-like.”
He eyed her suspiciously.
“But you’ll look insane in a roadside diner.”
His mouth tightened.
Y/N opened the small closet by the front door and searched through several jackets. “I might still have some of my ex-boyfriend’s clothes.”
Silence fell behind her.
Y/N continued digging. “He left a box here after we broke up. I told him to pick it up, but he never—”
“You intend for me to wear another man’s castoffs?”
She glanced back.
Loki stood perfectly still.
There was something almost affronted in his expression.
“They’re just clothes.”
“They belonged to a man who shared your affections.”
“Past tense.”
“That alters little.”
“It alters the entire situation.”
“I will not wear them.”
Y/N shrugged and turned back toward the closet. “Then stay here.”
“I did not say I would remain.”
“You can’t go to work dressed like that.”
“Your realm places an astonishing amount of importance upon unremarkable fabric.”
“Says the man offended by the idea of wearing jeans.”
“I’m offended by the idea of wearing his jeans.”
The emphasis was unmistakable.
Y/N slowly looked over her shoulder. “Are you jealous of a guy you’ve never met?”
Loki’s expression became glacial. “Don’t be absurd.”
“You sound jealous.”
“I possess no reason to envy a Midgardian foolish enough to lose your favor.”
The words landed between them.
Y/N blinked.
Loki appeared to realize what he had said at the same moment she did.
His posture stiffened.
She tried not to smile. “That almost sounded like another compliment.”
“It was an insult directed toward him.”
“Sure.”
“I will not wear his clothes.”
“Then what are you going to wear?”
Loki looked at her for a long moment.
Then green light shimmered across his body.
Y/N stumbled backward into the closet door.
The magic moved over him like water, dissolving the repaired Asgardian layers and replacing them piece by piece.
Dark trousers appeared first, fitted cleanly through the legs. A pale striped dress shirt formed over his chest, buttoned neatly to the throat beneath a black tie. A patterned scarf settled around his neck before a long, dark overcoat swept over his shoulders.
The glow faded.
Loki stood before her dressed as though he belonged in an expensive office in some colder, more sophisticated city.
His hair had changed too, no longer hanging loose around his shoulders. It was swept back neatly, leaving his sharp features fully exposed.
Y/N forgot what she had been saying.
The outfit should have looked too formal for a diner.
Instead, it made him look effortlessly elegant.
The coat broadened his shoulders, while the fitted shirt and trousers emphasized the lean lines of his body. The scarf gave the entire appearance something polished and strangely modern without making him look ordinary.
Nothing could make Loki look ordinary.
He adjusted one cuff.
“This should satisfy your realm’s arbitrary expectations.”
Y/N continued staring.
His gaze lifted to hers.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“A lie.”
She looked him over again before she could stop herself.
The dark coat.
The narrow tie.
The pale shirt against his skin.
The sharp sweep of his hair.
He looked less like someone she had dragged from a crater and more like the sort of man who walked into a room already knowing everyone would turn to look.
And they would.
They absolutely would.
“You look…” Y/N stopped.
Loki’s eyebrows rose. “I look?”
“…Normal.”
His eyes narrowed. “That was poorly delivered.”
“No, I mean—” She gestured toward him. “You look good.”
A trace of satisfaction entered his expression. “I am aware.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you are.”
“You were staring.”
“I was checking the clothes.”
“With your mouth open.”
Y/N immediately closed it. “It was not.”
Loki stepped closer.
It was only one step, but the small living room suddenly felt much smaller.
His eyes moved over her face, openly amused now. “You find this form pleasing.”
“This form?”
“The attire.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “It’s fine.”
“Fine?”
“Appropriate.”
“You called it good moments ago.”
“I changed my mind.”
“No, you became embarrassed.”
“I am not embarrassed.”
His gaze dipped briefly toward the color in her cheeks. “You are.”
Y/N grabbed her purse from the table and pushed past him.
“We’re going to be late.”
“I was unaware gods were required to obey your work schedule.”
“You are when you’re riding in my car.”
Loki followed her toward the door, looking far too pleased with himself.
Y/N unlocked it and stepped onto the landing.
Behind her, he paused. “You have neglected one matter.”
She turned. “What?”
“Your restrictions.”
“What about them?”
“If I accompany you, I cannot violate them.”
“That’s the point.”
“Then perhaps your insistence upon my presence was a calculated maneuver.”
She stared at him. “I gave you two choices.”
“And clearly preferred one.”
“I did not.”
Loki stepped outside and pulled the apartment door closed behind him.
“You offered another man’s clothing knowing I would refuse.”
“I didn’t know you’d get weirdly territorial.”
“I am not territorial.”
“You called his clothes castoffs like they personally offended your bloodline.”
“They did.”
Y/N locked the door.
When she looked up, Loki was standing beside her beneath the harsh afternoon sun, dressed in his dark coat as though the New Mexico heat had no authority over him.
She gave him another involuntary once-over.
He caught it immediately. “Again.”
“Walk.”
Loki smiled. It was small, smug and infuriatingly attractive.
Y/N headed toward the stairs before he could see her smiling too.
. . .
By the time the afternoon rush began, Loki had decided that the diner was an insult to nearly every one of his senses. The coffee smelled burnt. The lights hummed overhead. The vinyl seats stuck faintly to the backs of his thighs. And the small metal bell beside the register made an irritating chime every time someone struck it, despite the fact that Y/N was almost always standing close enough to hear them speak.
He sat on the counter near the register with one polished shoe resting against the cabinet beneath him, looking far too elegant for the faded diner around him.
Y/N placed a white ceramic mug beside his hand and filled it from the coffee pot. “Here.”
Loki glanced down at the black liquid. “This is the same substance you consumed last night.”
“Technically.”
“It smells worse.”
“That’s because this pot’s been sitting for an hour.”
His expression sharpened with distaste. “Then why have you offered it to me?”
“Because you’ve been asking what every single thing is, and I’m trying to keep you occupied.”
Loki lifted the mug by its handle, inspecting it before taking a cautious sip. His face immediately tightened.
Y/N laughed. “You don’t have to drink it.”
“This is coffee?”
“Diner coffee.”
“That distinction appears significant.”
“It is.”
He took another sip anyway.
Y/N reached beneath the counter for a stack of clean menus. “And do not smash the cup when you’re finished.”
Loki slowly looked at her. “Why would I smash it?”
“You already did it at my apartment.”
“That vessel was empty.”
“So?”
“In Asgard, one casts down the cup and calls for another.”
Y/N stared at him. “You threw my favorite mug on the floor.”
“You had several.”
“It said World’s Okayest Student.”
“I spared you further humiliation.”
She slapped a menu against his knee. “Do not smash this one.”
Loki glanced at the mug. “And if I desire another?”
“You ask.”
His mouth twisted. “Simply ask?”
“Yes.”
“No dramatic declaration?”
“No.”
“No raised voice?”
“No.”
“No destruction?”
“Definitely no destruction.”
He appeared almost disappointed. “…Well, that’s no fun.”
Y/N pointed at him. “You say, ‘May I have another cup of coffee, please?’”
Loki regarded her with the wounded dignity of a king being taught table manners by a child. “I am familiar with courtesy.”
“You nearly threw a knife at my toaster last night.”
“It startled me.”
“It popped bread.”
“Without warning.”
She shook her head and walked away before he could defend himself further.
Loki watched her cross the diner. She moved quickly between the tables, pouring coffee, collecting plates and offering the same bright smile to every person who entered, regardless of whether they deserved it.
Most did not.
A man at the counter complained that his eggs were not over easy. Y/N apologized and sent them back. A woman in the corner snapped her fingers at her for more syrup. Y/N brought it without comment. A family allowed their child to scatter crackers across the floor, then left without attempting to gather them. Y/N swept them up.
Loki’s irritation grew with every interaction. They spoke to her as though her presence was beneath acknowledgment, yet expected immediate obedience from her.
And she continued smiling.
When she passed the counter again, Loki caught her wrist lightly. “Why do you permit them to speak to you in this manner?”
She followed his gaze toward the man still complaining about his replacement egg. “Because I’m working.”
“That does not answer the question.”
“It does here.”
“They behave as though you belong to them.”
“They’re customers.”
“That word does not improve them.”
Y/N pulled her wrist free and gathered a fresh pot of coffee. “They pay for food. I bring it to them. At the end of the week, I get money.”
“You endure disrespect for coin?”
“Pretty much.”
Loki frowned. “Your realm is poorly arranged.”
“Tell me about it.”
“You could refuse.”
“And then I could get fired.”
“Then your employer is a fool.”
“My employer likes customers more than employees.”
“Another fool.”
She smiled. “Agreed.”
Loki watched her refill a cup. “What would occur if you simply commanded them to leave?”
“I don’t command anyone.”
“That is evident.”
Y/N gave him a look. “You’ve been here an hour. Try not to overthrow capitalism before dinner.”
“I know not what that is.”
“Good. Stay innocent.”
She walked away again.
Loki’s attention followed her despite himself. She looked tired. Still, she remembered every order. She asked an elderly couple whether they wanted more coffee before they had to call for her. She carried a heavy tray for another server who had briefly stopped by. She laughed when a child offered her a crayon drawing as payment.
The ease with which she offered kindness to strangers was as baffling as it had been the night before. Perhaps more so.
Loki had assumed her mercy toward him had been an exception born of unusual circumstances. Watching her now, he began to understand that it was simply how she moved through the world.
She helped because someone needed help. She smiled because hostility would cost her more energy. She endured because, as she had said, she needed the money.
Loki disliked that last part immensely.
The bell above the front door chimed.
A man entered alone and chose a booth near the back. He was perhaps twice Y/N’s age, broad through the shoulders and wearing a dusty work shirt with the sleeves cut away. His gaze found Y/N almost immediately.
Loki noticed.
Y/N approached with a menu. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Coffee.”
“Cream or sugar?”
“Just you, sweetheart.”
Y/N’s smile tightened, though it did not disappear. “I’ll bring the coffee.”
Loki lowered his mug.
The man watched her walk away. Not idly. His eyes remained fixed on her in a manner Loki recognized immediately.
Possessive without cause. Hungry without invitation.
When Y/N returned with the coffee, the man knocked a wrapped fork from the edge of the table. It landed near her feet.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
Y/N bent to pick it up. The man leaned sideways in the booth, openly staring at her backside.
Loki’s fingers tightened around the mug.
Y/N placed the silverware back on the table. “Anything else?”
“Not right now.”
She turned away.
The man waited until she had taken three steps, then swept a napkin from the table. It fluttered to the floor. “Miss?”
Y/N stopped.
He pointed downward. “Dropped something.”
Loki’s expression went cold.
Y/N looked at the napkin. Then at the man. She knew. That much was obvious. But she walked back anyway, crouched and picked it up without comment.
The man grinned as she straightened.
Loki set his mug down. Carefully. He had been explicitly instructed not to smash it.
Y/N returned to the counter and shoved the napkin into the trash.
“You’re aware,” Loki said.
She wiped down the coffee pot. “Of what?”
“Do not insult me.”
She sighed. “Just ignore him.”
“He is intentionally dropping objects so that he may observe you.”
“I know.”
“And yet you comply.”
“He’s going to leave eventually.”
“That’s not sufficient.”
“It has to be. For now.”
Loki looked toward the booth. The man was still staring.
“No,” Loki said quietly. “It does not.”
Y/N pointed the cleaning cloth at him. “Do not do anything.”
“I have done nothing.”
“That’s why I’m saying it now.”
“He’s an idiot, not an enemy soldier.”
Loki’s eyes remained on the man. “The distinction appears narrow to me.”
“Loki.”
He looked back at her.
“Stay here.”
The command made one eyebrow rise. “I beg your pardon?”
She sighed. “Please stay here.”
The addition appeared to satisfy him only marginally.
Y/N picked up a pitcher of water and returned to the floor. Loki watched.
The man found another reason to call her over moments later. Ketchup this time, despite there already being a bottle at the end of his table.
Y/N brought him another.
He smiled up at her. “You got a boyfriend?”
“Nope.”
Loki’s gaze sharpened.
“Pretty girl like you?” the man continued.
“I’m busy, sir.”
“I can see that.”
His eyes traveled down her body again. Y/N stepped away from the table.
As she passed him, the man lifted his hand and struck her backside.
The sound carried across the diner.
Y/N froze.
So did Loki.
For one perfect second, the entire room seemed to stop.
Y/N turned slowly.
The man laughed, raising both hands. “Come on. Just playing around.”
Loki slid from the counter. Not even flinching from the pain in his side from standing.
There was no dramatic motion. No visible magic. One moment he was seated near the register. The next, he was walking across the diner with such deliberate calm that the absence of anger in his face became far more frightening than rage would have been.
Y/N saw him approaching. “Loki.”
He did not stop.
The man glanced past her. “What’s his problem?”
Loki stepped beside Y/N. Up close, he seemed taller than he had from the counter. The dark coat sharpened the line of his shoulders, and the fluorescent lights caught the green of his eyes.
“You will remove your hand,” Loki said.
The man looked down at his own lap, confused. “From what?”
“From your body.”
Y/N’s eyes widened. “Loki.”
The man laughed uneasily. “What the hell is this?”
“You touched her without permission.”
“Relax, Dracula. It was a joke.”
Loki leaned slightly closer. Nothing in his posture appeared hurried. That made it worse.
“I have heard jokes,” he said. “They are generally intended to inspire amusement.”
The man’s smile faded. “Back off.”
Loki’s gaze dropped briefly to the man’s hand. “I could remove the offending limb. I have several blades to choose from—“
Y/N grabbed Loki’s sleeve. “No.”
The man shoved himself upright in the booth. “Did he just threaten me?”
“Yes,” Y/N said. “But he’s leaving.”
“I am doing no such thing.”
She tugged his arm. “Loki, go sit down.”
His head turned slowly toward her. The look he gave her might have frightened armies.
Y/N did not release him. “Now.”
“He struck you.”
“I know.”
“And you would have me ignore it.”
“I would have you not dismember a customer during my shift.”
“He is fortunate that is all I proposed.”
The man stood. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Loki turned back toward him.
Y/N stepped directly between them. “Nope.”
His gaze dropped to her. She placed one hand against his chest and pushed. Loki did not move. Naturally. But he looked down at her hand as though the contact itself had surprised him.
“Go sit at the counter,” she said.
“He has not apologized.”
“He’s not going to.”
“Then I will provide encouragement.”
“No magic,” she whispered to him.
“I require none. Just a blade will do.”
Behind her, the man scoffed.
Y/N felt Loki’s body tense beneath her palm. She pressed more firmly against his chest and lowered her voice. “Please.”
That stopped him.
Not immediately.
His eyes remained fixed over her shoulder, cold with the promise of consequences. Then his attention returned to her face.
“You ask me to tolerate this.”
“I’m asking you not to make it worse for me.”
The anger in his expression shifted. Not vanished. Shifted. He understood the distinction.
If he hurt the man, Y/N would be blamed. She could lose the money she needed. Perhaps the employment itself.
Loki looked once more at the customer. “You will not touch her again.”
The man rolled his eyes, though he did not seem willing to answer.
Loki took one step forward.
Y/N pushed both hands against his chest. “Loki. Seat. Counter.”
His jaw tightened.
“Now.”
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Loki allowed her to guide him backward.
It was not obedience, he told himself.
It was a strategic withdrawal made solely because she had requested it.
Y/N kept a hand around his arm until they reached the register. “Sit.”
He looked at the counter stool. Then at her. “I am not an animal to be commanded.”
“Then stop acting like a guard dog.”
“That man placed his hand upon you.”
“I noticed.”
“And you expect no consequence.”
“I expect him to tip badly and die alone.”
Loki stared at her.
Y/N lowered her voice. “I appreciate that you wanted to defend me.”
“Defend you? I intended to punish him.”
“That’s still defending me.”
“It is not.”
“Yeah-huh.”
He looked back toward the booth. The man had returned to his coffee, though he now kept both hands clearly visible on the table.
Y/N nudged Loki toward the stool. He finally sat.
She picked up his mug. It was empty. “You finished this.”
“I did.”
“And you didn’t smash it.”
His eyes moved to hers. “I exercised remarkable restraint.”
“You really did.”
Y/N lifted the coffee pot. “Would you like another?”
Loki glanced toward the rude customer one final time. Then back at her. His expression remained severe, but when he spoke, the words were controlled. “May I have another cup of coffee, please?”
Y/N smiled. “See? You’re learning.”
She poured it for him.
Loki watched her replace the pot. “He should consider himself fortunate.”
“He should.”
“Had you not intervened—”
“I know.”
“…I would not have killed him.”
“…Probably.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Loki.”
“What?”
“You don’t sound convincing. At all.”
He wrapped one hand around the warm mug. “I would merely have ensured he remembered the encounter.”
“How?”
Loki took a sip.
Y/N waited.
His eyes gleamed above the rim.
“Drink your coffee,” she said.
A faint smile touched his mouth.
Across the diner, the customer signaled for his check. He did not ask Y/N to pick up anything else.
Y/N left Loki at the counter with a pointed look. “Behave.”
Loki lifted the mug toward her in a gesture of solemn agreement. “I have done nothing.”
“Yet.” She narrowed her eyes at him before turning away to carry the customer’s check toward the register.
Loki waited until her back was turned.
The man in the booth was muttering beneath his breath as he dug through his wallet, casting irritated glances toward the counter. His coffee sat near the edge of the table.
Still steaming.
Loki’s fingers shifted subtly around his own mug. A faint ripple of green passed between them, invisible to every mortal eye in the diner.
The man’s cup tipped.
Hot coffee poured directly into his lap.
He gave a strangled shout and shot upright, knocking his knees against the underside of the table. “What the hell?”
Coffee streamed from his jeans and spread across the vinyl seat before splashing onto the tile below.
Y/N spun around from the register. “Oh, my God.”
The man stumbled out of the booth, swearing loudly as he tried to brush the scalding liquid from his pants. His boot landed directly in the puddle.
The sole slipped.
His arms flew outward.
For one brief, magnificent moment, he remained suspended between standing and falling, his face twisted in horrified realization.
Then he hit the floor.
Hard.
The crash rattled the table.
Y/N pressed both lips together.
Loki took a slow drink of coffee.
The man groaned and rolled onto his side, clutching the edge of the booth as he attempted to drag himself upright. “What is wrong with this place?”
Loki’s gaze remained fixed on the window. A deeply satisfied smile curved across his mouth.
Y/N hurried over, though she made no attempt to conceal how little sympathy she felt. “Are you okay?”
“Does it look like I’m okay?”
“It looks like you spilled your coffee.”
“I didn’t spill it. It just fell over!”
Loki’s smile widened behind his cup.
Y/N glanced toward him.
He immediately smoothed his expression into one of innocent disinterest.
She looked back at the customer. “Cups don’t usually do that on their own.”
“That’s what I’m saying!”
The man managed to stand, keeping one hand pressed against the table for balance. His face was red from pain and humiliation, while the front of his jeans was soaked dark.
Y/N retrieved a stack of napkins from the neighboring table and offered them.
He snatched them from her hand. “I’m not paying for that coffee.”
“I’ll take it off the check.”
“And I want to speak to your manager.”
“They’re not here.”
“Of course they’re not.”
The man roughly wiped at his pants, then shoved several bills onto the table. He had left enough for the meal.
No tip.
Naturally.
He limped toward the exit, muttering about lawsuits.
As he passed the counter, Loki inclined his head. “Do take care.”
The man stopped. He looked at Loki’s composed face, then at the coffee in his hand. Something suspicious flickered across his expression. “You.”
Loki raised one eyebrow. “I?”
“You did something.”
“With your coffee?”
“My coffee.”
Loki looked toward the abandoned booth before chuckling. “…Your clumsiness is hardly my responsibility.”
“I wasn’t clumsy!”
“Your current position suggests otherwise.”
The man stepped toward him.
Y/N immediately moved between them again. “Okay. You’re leaving.”
“I want him out too.”
“You don’t own the diner and he didn’t do anything.”
Loki’s eyes slid toward her.
Y/N avoided meeting them.
The man pointed at Loki. “He was staring at me.”
“I assure you,” Loki said, “there was little worth observing.”
Y/N covered a cough with her fist.
The customer glared at both of them before storming toward the door. His wet shoes squeaked across the floor with every step.
The bell above the entrance gave one final cheerful chime as he shoved it open and disappeared into the parking lot.
Y/N watched through the window until he climbed into his truck. Then she turned slowly toward Loki.
He sat exactly where she had left him, holding his cup with both hands as though he had spent the entire incident peacefully enjoying his drink.
She walked back to the counter. “What did you do?”
Loki looked up at her. “I have been sitting here.”
“Not what I asked.”
“I drank my coffee.”
“Loki.”
“It remains as unpleasant as the first.”
She planted both palms on the counter. “Did you knock his cup over?”
His green eyes widened with expertly manufactured offense. “From here?”
“You do magic.”
“So you have repeatedly observed.”
“And then he happened to slip.”
“Well that was because the floor was wet.”
“…Because his coffee spilled.”
“A sequence of unfortunate events.”
Y/N stared at him.
He met her gaze without flinching.
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
She saw it. “You did.”
“I have admitted nothing.”
“You look way too pleased with yourself.”
Loki took another sip. “The man received an important lesson regarding unwanted advances and proper balance.”
Y/N shook her head.
She should have been angry. He had used magic in the middle of her workplace after she explicitly told him not to make the situation worse. The customer could complain. Her manager could review the incident. Something could have gone wrong.
But then she remembered the hand striking her backside.
The laughter afterward.
Just playing around.
Her annoyance weakened. “Did you burn him?”
“Nothing lasting.”
“Did you make him fall?”
“I merely allowed gravity to complete what his own incompetence began.”
“That means yes.”
“It means your realm possesses reliable natural laws.”
Y/N stared at him for another second. Then she picked up a cleaning cloth and headed toward the spill.
“Okay, well, I’m not cleaning the whole thing alone.”
Loki looked toward the puddle. “You cannot possibly expect—”
“You caused it.”
“Allegedly.”
“Bring the mop.”
“I am a prince.”
“And I’m a Midgardian slob. Get the mop.”
His eyes narrowed.
Y/N held his gaze.
Eventually, Loki slipped down from the counter with a look of profound offense. “…Where is this instrument?”
“Supply closet beside the bathrooms.”
He walked away with the stiff dignity of someone marching toward an execution.
Y/N waited until he disappeared around the corner before allowing herself to smile.
The guy had deserved it. Maybe not the hot coffee. Maybe not the fall. But something.
A few minutes later, Loki returned carrying the mop as though it were a weapon too primitive to deserve his touch.
Y/N took it from him. “Thank you.”
“You are enjoying this.”
“A little.”
“I defended your honor.”
“You spilled coffee on a creep.”
“A distinction without consequence.”
She crouched to gather the fallen cup.
Loki stood beside her, watching the diner door through which the man had departed.
Defended her honor.
The phrase lingered.
A memory surfaced before he could dismiss it.
Asgard. After he had just killed Laufey. Thor standing in front of him, changed by his brief exile to Earth. Softer, Loki had thought. Weakened by sentiment and mortal affection.
He remembered circling his brother with cruel amusement, eager to find the source of that transformation.
What happened to you on Earth that turned you so soft? Don’t tell me it was that woman.
Thor’s silence had been answer enough.
Oh! It was! Well, maybe, when we’re finished here, I’ll pay her a visit myself!
At the time, Loki had enjoyed the threat for what it did to Thor’s face. He had regarded his brother’s attachment to a Midgardian woman as another weakness, proof that Thor had lost the resolve required of a king.
And now Loki stood in a roadside diner, dressed in Midgardian clothes, holding cleaning supplies because a mortal woman had commanded him to do so.
Worse, he felt satisfied.
Not merely because the man had been humiliated.
Because Y/N had been defended.
Her pride restored in the smallest possible measure.
Loki’s mouth flattened.
The realization was deeply inconvenient.
Y/N rose with the broken pieces of napkin holder in one hand. “You’re doing the face again.”
His attention returned to her. “What face?”
“The one where you disappear into your own head and get mad at whatever you find there.”
“I am not angry.”
“Brooding, then.”
“I do not brood.”
She glanced at his dark coat, swept-back hair and severe expression. “You’re dressed like the physical embodiment of brooding. You’re a brooder.”
Loki took the mop from her with more force than necessary. “Attend to your duties.”
She smiled. “Yes, Your Highness.”
He pushed the mop through the puddle, sending a thin wave of coffee across the tile.
Y/N watched him struggle with the handle. “You’ve never used one of those, have you?”
“I understand the concept.”
“You’re making it worse.”
“The instrument is poorly designed.”
“Let me—”
“I said I understand.”
“Loki. You’re holding it upside down.”
Loki looked at the mop. Then at her.
Y/N bit the inside of her cheek.
He silently turned it around.
She walked away before she laughed in his face.
Loki watched her return to the counter, smiling to herself as she reached for the coffee pot. His irritation should have returned.
Instead, he found himself watching the easy movement of her shoulders, the looseness that had replaced the tension from earlier.
She knew what he had done.
She had chosen not to condemn him for it.
Perhaps Thor’s softness had not been weakness after all.
The thought was intolerable.
Loki shoved the mop across the floor with unnecessary force.
Still, when Y/N glanced back at him and smiled, he smiled too.
Hello may I make a request can you do a scenario where the twst third years are in conversation with either their friends or classmates and the topic of their futures came up and that they ended like blabbing out that they want to marry there s/o who is the prefect of ramshackle (btw they are Fem) and like the s/o walks in while listening to this and is squealing so cutely like a excited school girl that they just straight up kiss them passionately on the lips
That’s it honestly lol 😝
💖💖💖
Summary: third years talk about the future and plan it with you, you overhear it.
F!Reader, reader is Yuu; established relationships; talks about a wedding; possible OOC; hcs; short and sweet;
English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.
Trey
We all know his character, right? Trey is usually level-headed and speaks about the future pragmatically (bakery, quiet life). But when Cater teases him or friends ask about “long-term plans,” he accidentally slips from his “caring upperclassman” tone and softly, with a sigh, admits that he already imagines you as the mistress of his house and his wife.
But if we break down that moment, oh… Trey laughs softly, adjusting his glasses, and first tries to turn everything into a joke. But when asked absolutely sincerely, his gaze becomes very warm:
“Well, to be honest… I don’t just want to open my bakery alone. I keep catching myself thinking that I want to see her there every day. Having breakfast with her, wiping flour off her cheek… Seven, I’m already mentally going over wedding cake options for us. I really want her to become my wife. No alternatives.”
But when he hears your squeal? Ha-ha, Trey actually jumps on the spot, causing the pen to fall out of his hands, and his glasses instantly slide down to the tip of his nose.
When you crash into him and kiss him passionately, Trey loses his balance for a second, leaning back against the table. His palms automatically land on your waist - gently but firmly, so you don’t fall.
Embarrassed. Definitely embarrassed by the sincerity - both his and yours. He planned to do it all more formally, not for you to accidentally overhear, but it’s too late.
When the shock passes, he holds you by the waist so you don’t fall from your own impulse, and clears his throat awkwardly, trying to regain control of the situation in front of his friends: “Hey… you heard all that, didn’t you?”
His ears and neck flush deep red. When the kiss ends, he blinks rapidly a few times, trying to get his glasses back into place, and lets out another embarrassed chuckle:
“Yuu… you… Seven, since when were you listening? You should warn a guy, my heart nearly stopped… But I, um… I’m glad you don’t mind.”
He is definitely now much more confident and calmer in making plans for the future. A future with you! Believe me, he’ll try his hardest.
Cater
He squeals at your squeal. Accidentally. Talk about the future after graduation usually scares him a little. But then he can joke sadly, and then unexpectedly seriously blurt out that the only scenario where he doesn’t feel alone is if he calls the Prefect, you, his wife.
His smile fades for a second, becoming real, vulnerable, and a little sad. He puts his phone face down:
“Ha-ha, come on… Actually, the future scares me. I’m afraid of being left alone when everyone goes their separate ways. But you know… the only scenario where I don’t feel that emptiness is if she’s by my side. I don’t just want to ‘date.’ I want to wake up and know she’s officially mine. I dream of calling her my wife… That’s so silly, right?”
Especially since he doesn’t expect such sincere and personal words to be heard by you. Really awkward, though he’s glad about how you react.
Cater jumps, and his beloved smartphone crashes loudly onto the sofa. The moment you pounce on him, he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you as close as possible. The kiss is deep, and Cater gives himself completely to that impulse, instantly forgetting about the onlookers.
Cater immediately matches your energy! After the passionate kiss, he hugs you by the shoulders, flashes his signature smile (though his cheeks are burning), and turns everything into a joke for his friends to hide how hard his heart is pounding: “Wow, Magicam won’t capture this! Yuu, did you rehearse such a dramatic entrance?”
Pulling back, he breathes heavily, his cheeks flaming, but the most genuine and happiest smile of the whole year blooms on his lips. He turns to the shocked friends, still holding the Prefect around the waist with one hand:
“Wow… Okay, the ‘Catch your boyfriend off guard’ trend is officially the best in my life! Yuu, you’re simply incredible… We need to pick a date ASAP!”
The last part, of course, he says jokingly, but deep down he starts thinking when would actually be the best time to organize it all. Not now, but in the future he definitely doesn’t plan to let you go.
Leona
Talk about his future irritates him. He’ll lazily grumble that he doesn’t care, but at Ruggie’s prodding, he’ll mutter something like: “I don’t need a royal entourage. The only thing I’m taking with me after graduation is that herbivore. And I’ll make her my queen (conditionally, affectionately. Leona, baby, first become king), so stop talking about it.”
Leona grumbles irritably, covering his face with his hand, but at another jibe about his “eternal loneliness,” he sits up sharply and narrows his green eyes:
“Shut up already. I don’t care about the palace or their formalities. But if you think I’ll let that little herbivore go back to her world or give her to anyone else - you’re idiots. She’ll live with me. As my wife. And that’s not even up for discussion, I’ve already decided.”
A squeal rings out. Poor beastmen and their hearing, right?
Leona’s ears instantly flatten against his head from the sharp sound, he flinches: “What the…?!”
He doesn’t let you just kiss him and run away. As soon as your lips touch his, Leona growls into the kiss, dominantly wraps one arm around your waist and literally pulls you against him, taking control and pushing the kiss to the max.
Then he’ll look at the others smugly, something like: “You heard? She agrees. Now get lost.”
He pulls back slowly, giving you a predatory and terribly satisfied look. Then he grins casually at his friends, whose jaws are already on the floor:
“Well? Any questions? The herbivore confirmed it herself. Now scram, you’re in our way.”
Vil
Vil sits at his vanity table or in the Pomefiore lounge, carefully applying cream to his hands. Friends or fellow models discuss his future contracts, shows, and how hard it is to find a worthy partner in show business.
Vil looks into the mirror, his expression becoming incredibly soft and thoughtful:
“Show business is full of falsehood. I don’t need someone for headlines. The only person whose sincerity I value above all else is our Prefect. I don’t plan on fleeting romances. As soon as she graduates, I’ll propose. And it will be the most flawless wedding this world has ever seen.”
A squeal is heard. Uh, you’ll have to apologize for such behavior, won’t you?
Vil flinches slightly, his brow twitching: “What inelegant shrieking…”
Seeing your flushed face, he puts away the cream jar. When you kiss him passionately, Vil maintains absolute graceful dignity: he gently places his hand on the back of your head, allowing you to take the initiative, but controlling the softness of the movement.
The return kiss will be flawless, like in a movie. He carefully holds your chin, then lightly wipes off the lipstick or just fixes your hair: “A bit loud for a lady, potato… But I rate your impulse 100 points.”
He is more than pleased with such a reaction.
“Consider your answer accepted. Now we’ll have to think about ring designs.”
Well, your college graduation is already planned out, isn’t it?
Rook
Rook will start speaking with poetic passion. He’ll describe the “beauty of a shared future,” fervently reasoning that his arrow has already pierced her heart, and the logical continuation of this beautifully hunted “quarry” will be an eternal union and marriage vows.
Rook stands by the window, watching the sunset. Some students ask him where his “arrow of fate” will lead him after school - whether he’ll continue his wanderings and hunting for beauty alone.
Rook places his hand over his heart, his voice rising exalted and poetic:
“Oh, my friends! A hunter may roam the world as long as he likes, but only until he finds his most beautiful, purest grail! My heart has long belonged to our Prefect. And my final, greatest goal will be to bind our souls in marriage. I want to lead her to the altar and sing her beauty forever!”
At the last words, he hears your squeal. He’s not even surprised that you’re nearby.
His eyes widen, blazing with immense delight: “Ah! What a sound!”
For Rook, that squeal is the “song of a beautiful bird.” He’ll scoop you up in his arms, spin you around, and return the kiss with incredible theatrical drama and passion: Rook reacts instantly. In response to your passionate kiss, he literally lifts you by the thighs, raising you off the floor, and responds with extraordinary theatrical fervor and deep tenderness.
“Beauté! 100 points! Oh, my beautiful Prefect, your cry of love echoes in my soul! Your kiss has officially sealed our future union!”
Even until the wedding itself, you can consider yourselves already married; he won’t miss a chance to compose poetry and prose about it for you.
Idia
Idia sits hunched over his tablet, complaining about “normies” and the horror of real life. When asked about the future, he sighs and in a quiet, rapid-fire serial whisper rattles off something like: “What’s the difference… anyway, the ideal scenario is to lock myself in a tower. And if I’m going to share my life with anyone, it’s only with Yuu… well, I mean, wedding, 3D routine, all that… p-please don’t make me say it out loud…”
Idia hides in a corner of the Ignihyde rooms, surrounded by gadgets, complaining to his Discord(Magicord?Idk lmao) party/Ortho about how terrible the real world is (“IRL is a crappy game with bad balance”). The conversation turns to 3D relationships and adult life.
Idia nervously fidgets his fingers, hiding behind his bangs, and rattles off at a higher pitch:
“Are you crazy?! What wedding, what normie stuff?! Although… fine… if we’re being completely hypothetical… If it were Yuu… I mean, she’s the only one who doesn’t fry my brain… So, if I ever decided to take the ‘Family’ quest, it would only be with her! I’d… I’d even agree to a real wedding ceremony, got it?! That’s it, topic closed, my server is about to crash from stress!”
It’s unclear which of you two squealed first. He, honestly, even out-squeals you. SYSTEM CRASH. Idia’s blue flaming hair flashes bright pink, he squeals back in a high-pitched voice and starts falling backward.
When you kiss him, Idia literally “freezes.” His arms hang in the air, afraid to touch you, and he turns redder by the second.
After the passionate kiss, Idia squeals at an ultrasonic pitch, curls into his hood, covers his face with his hands, and turns into a puddle: “A-a-a-a! Too bright! IRL content too aggressive! My heart is going to burn out!”
Ortho sincerely and joyfully claps his hands: “Hurray, Prefect! Your reaction increased Idia’s successful marriage probability by 99.8%! I’m already starting to design the ideal wedding dress with a protective field! Protocol ‘Idia and Prefect’s Wedding’ has officially been upgraded from ‘Dreams in private chat’ to ‘Active planning.’ Loading décor catalogs!”
As soon as the kiss ends, he pulls the hoodie over his nose, curls into a ball right on the floor, and emits an ultrasonic squeak:
“A-a-a-a-a! Unfair! That was an unfair crit! My HP is at zero! Why were you listening?! Now I’ll burn up from embarrassment-a-a-a!”
Malleus
Malleus stands at night on the Diasomnia balcony. Conversation with a few interlocutors (Malleus, baby, you’re talking to Lilia. Child time is over, and your two fine knights are asleep.) turns to the transience of human life and that Malleus will soon have to assume full power.
Malleus reflects on time, for fae, longevity is loneliness. He will note with sad grace that human centuries are short, but he wants to bind you to himself with the strongest ritual known to mortals: “I intend to make her my sacred chosen companion and wife. I won’t let her go even after her century fades.”
Malleus looks at the moon, his voice full of deep, majestic calm with a hint of gentle sadness:
“A human life is like a flash of a falling star. But I do not intend to be merely a spectator of her life. I have made my decision. I will make her my wife. And let time try to take her from me, I will not give her up.”
Your squeal echoes, along with Lilia’s light laugh. Malleus blinks in surprise. He’s still not used to someone daring to act so spontaneously and loudly in his presence.
When you run up and kiss him, green magical sparks instantly flare around you. Malleus slowly and tenderly wraps his arms around your shoulders, returning the kiss with immense tenderness and royal majesty.
He laughs low and velvety, looking down at you with sincere adoration. His fingers gently touch your hot cheek: “What a passionate and wild nature… Your joy makes my magic sing. It seems I no longer need to ask for your consent - you have just given it yourself.”
The magic around you two might accidentally make flowers bloom or light green sparks. He will hug you from behind: “What a beautiful display of feelings. Consider your consent accepted.”
Lilia
Lilia speaks of the future from the height of centuries, but when it comes to her, he grins and squints slyly. He cheerfully tells friends/classmates something like: “An old man like me needs youthful energy! Actually, I’ve already decided: as soon as we graduate, I’ll propose to her according to all ancient traditions. I want to see how she’ll look in a wedding dress!”
Lilia sits dangling his legs from a ceiling beam or table, while friends discuss his imminent departure from school and what a “retiree” does in his spare time.
Lilia chuckles merrily, hands on his hips, but in his eyes a very clear, deep spark ignites:
“Oh! You think I’ll just grow a garden alone? Think again! I have huge plans. I’m going to marry our dear Prefect! We’ll have a lavish wedding with ancient rites, I’ll invite the whole neighborhood! I want to see her in a bridal outfit, it’ll be a wonderful sight!”
Hearing your squeal, he just chuckles. What a lovely sincere lady, isn’t she?
Feeling your impulse, he nimbly jumps down (or pulls himself up to you. Let’s see his mood, right?), catches you by the waist mid-air and returns the kiss with incredible passion, lightness, and zest.
Lilia is a master of surprises. He might, right during the kiss, hang upside down on you (or even flip himself upside down if there’s something to grab onto, lmao, a Spider-Man style kiss?), deftly scoop you up and spin you around! After the kiss, he’ll peck you on the nose: “Oh-ho-ho! Now that’s enthusiasm! Well, since you’re in such a hurry, we should start planning the celebration right now.”
After that, he flicks your nose. “What a reaction! Well, would you look at that – the bride came running to claim her groom! Since you’re so excited, my child, let’s start making the guest list today.”
The characters do not belong to me, they belong to their rightful owners, please do not edit, translate, repost my works on other platforms, also without my permission and @
This stupid idea have been in my head ever since i found out leona’s duo was ace. Leona had been in my pulls everytime i pulled for Ace cards so i think he deserves this and an honorable big brother.
Happy birthday Leona!! Your underclassmen are a bit dumb but they meant well.
synopsis : what would the overblotters do to showcase that they like you, while not saying it outright ?
pairing(s) : riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia x reader (separate)
a/n : helloo i am BACKKK !!! 3 4 months of not posting.. im so sorry my dear fans.. also this is my first twst work!! we all cheered!! they may be a bit ooc, especially leona jamil and malleus since i didnt rllybkmow what to write for them
riddle rosehearts, who makes you the single exception to the rules of the queen of hearts, yet denies it every time ace speaks up about the 'favoritism'.
leona kingscholar, who lets you play with his hair and sleep on his body. (ruggie caught you napping on him a few times, and has photo proof)
azul ashengrotto and his stupid contracts, however for you, the price for his magic is a measly kiss.
jamil viper, who cooks your favorite food every time you stay at his dorm, despite it being uncharacteristic for him to do so.
vil schoenheit, who lets you use his expensive skincare, and shows you all the steps to achieve his glass-like skin.
idia shroud, who secretly levels up in your account and buys you ingame currency with his money.
malleus draconia, who lets you touch his horns and tail.
additionally, he would invite you to join his club activites, and would rant to you about gargoyles and their specialties.
꒰ request ﹕ “ Hi can I ask for twst hcs, specifically hcs of the housewardens with a beautiful s/o. ” ꒱
content : fluff ,, angstish (idia is slightly insecure) ,, jst lovey stuff ,, very joyful kalim ,, may be ooc .
ARLA YAP : first time writing for malleus sooo i don’t know if it’s very good.. he was definitely the hardest one, like i know how he talks but come on im not 😢 like im just not. I HOPE YOU LIKE ITTT!! ALSO FOUND OUT ONE OF MY MOOTS FROM TIKTOK FOLLOW ME ON HERE ILYYY🥹💗
☀️ » 𝓚𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐦 ,
—> kalim isn’t insecure at all, not even when he starts dating you even though he’s been told by jamil that you are far to good for him, he’s just joking after all!! not
—> he always compliments you, doesn’t matter where you guys are or what you are doing, he doesn’t even notice how much he does it; to him it’s just his way of showing love to his partner.
—> always hangs out with you when you go out, spoils the heck out of you, “this fits so well with you!” “i got you this, it’s just a small thing.” and then it’s expensive jewellery, custom made to suit you perfectly, don’t try giving it back or anything like that, he will just buy you more until your fully stocked up even then it’s doubtful he would stop
—> absolutely loves to stare at you, even if it’s from afar, what can’t a boy admire his partner?
—> i don’t think he really notices other people gawking and checking you out, but when he does it’s not like he gets jealous, he probably would be oblivious to there intentions at first and he would just keep his bright smile on his face, “aren’t they amazing?”
🌹 » 𝓡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 ,
—> despite the two of you being together he is always stunned by how good you seem to look no matter the days, good or bad, he is always bright red when he’s around you, don’t worry it’s not his ‘i’m furious!’ red face, it’s a soft pink tint on both of his cheeks, but in reality he always gets butterflies.
—> definitely gets jealous very quickly and goes on a strop about it to you afterwards, he won’t let them see it though, the chances of him also bringing it up to you are extremely low, but it’s not like it isn’t obvious.
—> CONSTANTLY gets teased by Ace, who doesn’t seem at all phased by riddles rants about how utterly irrelevant his words are! (yet he doesn’t deny any of it)
—> Riddle would like to gift you things though to him it seems very out of the blue, so when trey bakes him stuff he offers to share with you.
—> much like kalim he enjoys hanging out with you, loves when you pick stuff up and ask for his opinion however his answers are very peculiar in its on way.
🖥️ » 𝓘𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 ,
—> right so as we know he is canonically somewhat attractive, so to people? him bagging you was easy as hell you both might as well have your own ‘hottest couple’ title.
—> but idia isn’t to sure, he’s flustered most of the time along with him hiding himself from everyone 24/7, no seriously how did he get you.. that was none the less with the help of his brother ortho!
—> i don’t think idia dates you for your looks, even though the majority of the time he gets extremely overwhelmed and gets all flustered around you, he’s more with you because ortho likes you you like him for who he is.
—> dating Idia wherever your attractive or not your going to have to put up with him struggling in the relationship, don’t worry he’s cocky most of the time when it’s just you both, but when tons of people are checking you out? his thoughts spiral abit.
—> unlike riddle and kalim i don’t think he would go out with you physically most of the time, probably on call when your showing fits or new stuff you brought? yes definitely. but other then that probably not.
—> the first couple of months he doesn’t actually show much interest in finding little things for you, only because he’s worried about what you will think, but after talking to ortho about it he’s hit with reality.
—> so after that, yes he is buying and getting you stuff, even sending you links to stuff you might like or stuff which would match your aesthetic, though he doesn’t see the point in aesthetics.
—> if you have been dating for awhile? he shuts down still, his brain not fully convinced this whole thing is real!!— straight out of a romance game!
—> besides him being a nervous wreck most of the time he’s definitely inlove with you so much it hurts him physically, he swears atleast.
—> won’t compliment you publicly unless someone else does, he will mutter a groan agreeing with them before he says something while stuttering about how great you look everyday.
—> when your alone though? yeah he’s complimenting you he doesn’t care how red he gets, your his he’s yours all that bazinga! i feel like once you guys have been dating for like a year or move then 5 months he’s very cringey with what he says but it’s ok
🐉 » 𝓜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚 ,
—> much like idia i don’t think he would date someone for their looks, but he is very stunned when he sees you the first time and his compliments are very interesting withh themselves.
—> wait completely of topic, but when you guys first met he fumbled with his words and related your beauty as a gargoyle, he was incredibly confused when you looked taken aback, but the he went on to say about how they are sculpted with such care and how much he loves them.
—> i think you guys probably met at first, if you aren’t yuu, because you were talking to Lilia about something - and lilia being the grandpa he is took notice to how malleus was looking at you and swatted him over.
—> does he get jealous? it depends on what someone is doing, cat calling, no he finds that ridiculous and knows you won’t even glance their way, if they are just staring possibly, especially if it’s been awhile and they haven’t turned away.
—> i feel like out of the other 3 on here, your and malleus’ relationship gets looked down upon, especially from people at NRC they really don’t understand how someone so scary got with you.
—> malleus does not care at all about what people has to say. for starters you always reassure him that it doesn’t matter, and he also has the support of lilia so.. why should he care? he’s also use to it by now it doesn’t affect him at all.
—> oh he definitely butters you up: public, private.. you name it! he’s absolutely complimenting you whenever even when it isn’t the time, he doesn’t care most of the time.. more blown away by you. oh well that’s just how he is!
ִ › ⦂ masterlist here
thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are appreciated.
Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of decoden and polymer clay questions about what to use to as a gloss/glaze. Almost every time the first response is “Clear nail polish, duh!”.
This needs to stop if people want to be creating quality items. Sometimes I’m afraid to buy handmade things for fear that they have been sealed with clear nail polish and they will deteriorate over time. I want to buy things that will last!
I tried using clear nail polish before for that purpose and I don’t recommend it. It was the only thing I already had at home and I figured why not.
It smelled like nail polish forEVER, it was somehow sticky, you could see every brush stroke, and it just ruined the project.
Do yourself a favour and buy something that is actually meant to be used that way. Even if you’re a teen and all you have at hand is your mom’s nail polish.
