#Better Today Herbal Drops

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡Rings 💍

You've ordered: a bone-shaped lemon tart! enjoy!

"It's always been just him and me, together."

Divus Crewel x spouse! reader | word count: 994 words

Summary: the students don't know you're married to their alchemy professor 💍 (silly little crewel drabble! :D)

Warnings: kinda rushed, not proofread. other than that, none!

Note: not my best work, but hey- it is what it is T-T. i will definitely be writing more for crewel in the future! also, i use they/them pronouns for reader. feel free to change them to your preferred pronouns while reading

"Did you guys know that Professor Y/n is married?" Ace exclaimed, receiving reactions of utter shock and complete indifference.

"You're just now finding out?" Jamil asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Wait, you knew? Since when?" Grim asked, his face stuffed with a meat filled pastry.

"Since the first day of class. I noticed the ring when they was handing out papers."

"Do you know who they're married to?" Kalim questioned, Jamil shaking his head.

"All I know is that they're married to a professor. I happened to overhear them talking with another student who asked."

"Professor Trein's too damn old to be their husband and Coach Vargas already told us he's not gonna get married anytime soon." Deuce explained. "And we've never seen Professor Crewel wearing a ring."

"Maybe he doesn't teach here?" Grim mumbled, finishing up his pastry and making a failed attempt to take Deuce's.

"Look! There they are." Ace announced.

The others turned around to see you walking through the cafeteria, greeting students. When you spotted their table, you smiled and waved at them, stepping over. "Good morning everyone! How are you all doing today?" you asked, your voice warm and inviting.

The boys all gave pretty halfhearted responses as their eyes drifted to the ring on your finger. Whoever your husband was, he was definitely loaded. That diamond was the size of their heads.

You followed their gaze, giving a quiet laugh as you reached you hand out, letting them get a better look at the ring. "Before you all ask: yes, i am married."

"Wow! That's a gorgeous ring!" kalim exclaimed, taking in the sparkly rock.

"So, uh...what's your husband like?" Ace outright asked, earning himself a kick under the table from Jamil. "Ignore him, Professor."

"No, no. I don't mind at all. He's very sweet and kindhearted. He's very passionate about his teaching and wants his students to succeed. He's the best man I've ever met, really." you sighed dreamily, thoughts of your husband filing your mind.

The group found it rather sweet, whispering among each other for another question to ask.

"Well, I must be on my way. See you all in class later!" you smiled, giving them a nod as you left the cafeteria and them dumbfounded.

You were currently in your classroom, setting things up for your next class. You taught Magical Botany and Herbalism, a class that happened to go hand in hand with Professor Crewel's Alchemy class.

As you checked in on the various plants growing in your "plant corner" of the classroom (you also used the botanical garden to grow things), you heard the sound of footsteps behind you. Turning around, a wide grin spread over your features as you saw the familiar face.

"Professor Crewel, what a pleasant surprise." you said, a tinge of excitement in your voice at seeing your husband. yes, you were married to none other than Divus Crewel, alchemy professor and dog lover alike.

"Y/n, you know you can drop the formalities when we're alone." he said, stepping over to you. his arms encircled your waist, making you laugh a little.

"Crewel, our students might see!" you exclaimed, pretending to scold him despite your arms already wrapping around his neck.

Crewel gave you one of his flashy grins, resting his forehead against yours. "So? At least then, the puppies will stop bombarding me with questions."

"What questions?" you mused, having a good idea of what they were.

"Like, if i have a crush on you." the alchemy professor said, making you burst into laughter.

"Well, we're married, so I would hope so!" you snickered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Just as your conversation was going well, a few whispering voices could be heard from behind the door. Voices you two knew very well.

"Stop pushing!"

"shh, they're gonna hear us!"

"Did they say they're married?"

You and crewel exchanged a knowing glance, walking over to the door and opening it. Im tumbled Grim, Ace, and Deuce, all three of them with rather guilty looks on their faces.

"Oh? Deuce, this isn't the botanical garden!" Ace said, trying to sound convincing (and failing).

"Where you puppies eavesdropping on us?" Crewel asked, his tone turning stern. You placed a hand onto Crewel's shoulder, shaking your head.

"Let's at least hear them out."

Crewel was about to protest, but nodded his head, letting them explain themselves.

"We were just curious about who Professor Y/n was married to!" Grim blurted, Ace facepalming and Deuce silently scolding the cat-like creature.

"Like he said, we never would've guessed it was Professor Crewel. He never wears a ring." Deuce explained.

You couldn't help but laugh, Crewel rolling his eyes at their little display of curiosity.

"The reason he doesn't wear his ring is because he's afraid he'll lose it or ruin it up during alchemy lessons. It also looks weird if he wears his gloves over it." you explained, the boys nodding their heads.

"You do understand that I'll have to punish you three, correct?" Crewel said, the three boys hanging their heads.

"Oh come on, love. Cut them some slack this time, hm?" you suggested, playfully nudging crewel in his side. The students were shocked to see this side of their professors, finding it a bit weird, but also rather sweet.

"Fine. But don't let me catch you again."

After the trio left, Crewel helped you set up the last of your things. You two were now having one last little intimacy session before classes began again.

"Tell you what? After classes are over, let's go have some tea in your office and just enjoy each other's company?" you hummed, reaching up to tuck a tuft of his white hair behind his ear.

"You always know how to take my stress away." he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Of course I do. I know my husband inside and out." 💍

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[heliosunny]

Steam beneath the surface

Veritas Ratio x Reader

You never understood what you did to make him hate you. First day of class and Dr. Ratio already had it out for you.

“Since no one is volunteering” he said flatly, “you’ll answer, Y/N.”

Again.

That made three times today.

The others chuckled under their breath, some with pity, some with that cruel glee that came from not being the one in the crosshairs. You sat stiffly at your desk, mind racing as you tried to recall whatever abstract theory he was droning about just seconds ago. You muttered a passable answer. He tilted his head—barely.

“Acceptable,” he murmured. “If we’re grading on mercy.”

What was his problem?

Because what you didn’t know -what none of his students knew- was that when the sun dipped and the academic world clocked out, Ratio worked another job. Not for the money, of course. No, he worked at the bathhouse in the old part of town. The quiet, traditional kind.

> One Week Before the Semester <

You had just passed the bathhouse's old stone gate, scrolling your phone, barely glancing at the sign outside. There was something vaguely elegant about the place, but you were just cutting through to shave a few minutes off your walk home.

You didn’t even notice the man in the open hallway.

“Don’t use your phone around here” came his voice.

You didn’t hear him. Your music was too loud.

He stood still, watching your retreating back, a shadow stretching behind him in the lantern light.

You hadn’t meant to trespass into his sanctuary.

But you had.

> Present <

“Y/N!” Dr. Ratio called from the front of the classroom, barely glancing up from the papers he was sorting. “Stay after class. We need to discuss your participation.”

A few classmates ooh’d quietly. This was the third time this week.

You gathered your things slowly, annoyed but trying not to show it. You hadn’t even done anything wrong. But Dr. Ratio had zeroed in on you from day one. Always picking you for questions, assigning you "extra practice" making snide comments about your "disengaged energy."

“Tell me, Y/N,” he said, setting down his pen and folding his hands on the desk, “do you enjoy underperforming, or is this a performance art piece I should grade more generously?”

“I’m not underperforming.”

“You’re not present,” he said. “Mentally, emotionally, or otherwise.”

You frowned. “I think you’re reading way too much into this.”

“Oh, I always read too much into things,” he murmured, “It’s how I stay ahead.”

“I’m assigning you weekly reports. On everything we cover. Typed. Double length.”

“What? Why?”

“To help you focus. And because I said so.”

You clenched your jaw. “Isn’t that excessive?”

“Excess,” he said, “is what’s required when prevention is the goal.”

You stared at him, baffled.

> Later That Week – The Bathhouse <

You were tired. Between the surprise reports, Ratio’s constant hovering, and whatever personal vendetta he seemed to have against your existence, you needed a reset. And where better than the bathhouse you passed by so often?

It was quiet that evening, just like before. The air inside was warm, damp, and heavy with the scent of wood and herbal steam. You slipped off your shoes, dropped some coins into the slot, and entered the changing room without a second thought.

A cold splash suddenly hit your side.

You gasped, twisting sharply as water soaked the edge of your clothes. A wooden bucket clattered against the tile, still dripping.

“What the hell—?”

“Oh,” came a voice you knew too well, “it’s you.”

There he was. Wearing a simple yukata tied at the waist, sleeves rolled up, a mop leaning against the wall beside him. His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead.

“You… work here?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

“I clean,” he said simply. “Among other things.”

“You splashed me.”

“I was cleaning,” he repeated, his tone was everything but apologetic.

“…Right.”

You turned slightly, intending to just continue whatever you were doing, maybe pretend none of this happened.

But Ratio’s voice followed you like a hook behind the ribs.

“Planning to tell anyone?”

“What?”

“About seeing me here.”

You scoffed, frowning. “Why would I care?”

You finished your soak in the mineral bath, tension slowly easing from your shoulders. The brief exchange with Ratio still lingered in your mind but you pushed it aside. He was just your teacher. Weird, maybe even a little paranoid—but harmless.

You dried off, changed, and left, humming to yourself.

It wasn’t until you got home that you realized your headphones were gone.

> The Next Morning – Faculty Office <

You tapped on the frame of the open door. Ratio’s office was dark except for the natural light pouring through the blinds, slanting across piles of paper. And there, sitting right on the edge of his desk, were your headphones.

He looked up from a stack of graded essays. “You’re early.”

“I left those at the bathhouse,” you said, trying to sound neutral. “Can I have them back?”

“I’m holding them for observation” he said.

You blinked. “They’re just headphones.”

“Which is what I would say, too, if I were trying to convince someone they weren’t bugged.”

“…What?”

He set his pen down slowly, folding his hands in front of him. “You think very little of my intelligence, if you assume I’d overlook the possibility of surveillance.”

You stared. “They're literally from a convenience store—”

“Low-budget cover. Clever. But not clever enough.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You couldn’t be rude. He was your teacher.

So you just sat there.

That’s it, you thought later that day. He asked for it.

You started small.

Chalk balanced on the door.

He caught it.

Switched the sugar in his office drawer with salt.

He sipped his coffee, adjusted his glasses, and said, “My tolerance for bitterness must be improving.”

You tried slipping a fake notice into his inbox about a mandatory dress code violation.

He didn’t even react, just circled the typo in red ink and pinned it to the board labeled “AMATEUR ATTEMPTS” with your handwriting copied underneath.

It was infuriating.

Despite his personality, or maybe because of it, Dr. Ratio had a strange pull in the school. Students tried to flirt with him, constantly.

None of it landed.

He never entertained it beyond a dry “I’d advise focusing on graduating before fantasizing.”

But the weirdest part?

They liked that.

And he wasn’t the only one.

There was another teacher, Aventurine, who always hovered close to Ratio’s orbit.

They were opposites, but close.

Rumor had it they shared lunch daily.

Students’ attempts to flirt or get attention were met with condescending amusement. Like watching children play pretend.

> Two Weeks Later <

You stopped going to the bathhouse.

Whatever peace it once gave you had been ruined.

The idea of seeing him in that setting again made your stomach twist. Curse him. Curse his cryptic attitude and his obsession with making you the center of everything. You hoped his numbers dropped now that you were gone.

Your focus shifted. With all the extra reports he assigned, you didn’t have much choice. Pages and pages of analysis, summaries, theories—Ratio turned your free time into a footnote. But strangely… after a while… he stopped.

He stopped assigning you extra work.

It was like the storm had passed.

Maybe he realized he overdid it. Maybe he was wrong, and too prideful to admit it out loud. Either way, you weren’t about to ask.

Fine. Let him go back to whatever twisted little schemes he cooked up in his free time.

You ignored him.

You reminded yourself—he’s just a teacher.

That afternoon, your grandma sent you out with a neat list folded in half. Groceries: soy sauce, tofu, green onions, some sweet buns she liked. You took the usual shortcut through the shopping street.

As you exited the small bakery, plastic bag in hand, you heard laughter.

Your eyes flicked toward the source instinctively.

There he was, standing under the warm glow of an old lamp post, speaking with a small group of bathhouse guests—well-dressed, older types who clearly respected him. He wore his casual yukata again.

He smiled at something one of them said.

And then—his eyes caught yours.

He soon looked away.

You stood there for a beat longer than you should’ve, then kept walking. Your feet hit the pavement faster now. You didn't look back.

You returned home in silence.

But the entire way, you felt the heat of his gaze pressed against your back, even though he wasn’t following.

----

It was just a quiet Saturday afternoon. You were upstairs, scrolling through your phone while half-listening to music.

Then you heard voices. The first one is your grandma's.

You frowned, sitting up. You didn’t remember her saying anyone was coming over.

You stood at the top of the stairs, then froze.

Him. In your house.

Your first instinct was to retreat. Maybe out the window. Maybe fake illness. Anything but dealing with this. But it was too late. Your grandma called out sweetly, “Why didn’t you tell me your teacher was visiting, dear? You should’ve warned me so I could prepare tea!”

You descended slowly, blinking in disbelief. “I didn’t know he was coming…”

Ratio sat on the floor cushion.

He gave a faint, respectful bow. “Apologies for the sudden visit. I was nearby delivering materials to another household. I figured I’d return this before it got forgotten.”

He held up your headphones.

You stepped forward hesitantly. “You could’ve just… given them to me at school.”

“Some things are better returned in a proper setting.”

What the hell did that mean? You took them quickly. Your fingers brushed his. His skin was colder than expected.

Your grandma kept talking, but you barely registered it. All you could think of was the way he looked at you.

Like he was dissecting something.

After a quick chat and polite exchange, he excused himself and asked if he could speak with you 'briefly outside.'

You obliged, unsure why.

“You stopped showing up.”

“…To the bathhouse? It’s not like we had a standing appointment.”

"No. But you didn’t even say goodbye."

You scoffed. "Why would I?"

"Fair." His tone didn’t change, but something in his stare sharpened. "Just thought you’d be more consistent."

Then he stepped away with a nod, as if this was perfectly normal behavior.

-----

You couldn’t stop thinking about it.

What was he trying to prove?

You lost track of time during his lecture. Your notes trailed off into nonsense halfway through the second blackboard.

“Y/N” he called, not even turning from his writing.

You snapped to attention.

A piece of chalk whizzed past your head.

“Focus” he said, still facing the board.

Later that week, you were sent to deliver a stack of paperwork—probably punishment for not dodging Ratio’s chalk faster the day before. You balanced the forms carefully as you navigated the quiet hallway.

The door to Ratio’s office was already ajar.

You knocked lightly and stepped in, only to freeze mid-step.

A student stood in front of his desk, clearly flustered, holding out a small envelope, probably spritzed with perfume if the scent in the air meant anything.

Dammit. You walked in on a confession.

“…I’ve admired you since last semester. I—I just thought you should know.”

He reached for a stamp. Pressed it onto a document without lifting his eyes.

“Admiration is not the same as understanding,” he said. “Please redirect your energy toward something measurable—like improving your test scores.”

The student’s expression crumbled.

You slowly backed up, trying to pretend you were not there, not part of this disaster. But his eyes flicked toward you in the same moment the student turned to leave.

You quickly approached his desk, dumped the paperwork, and muttered, “Delivery.”

Ratio’s voice followed as you turned to leave. “Do try to watch your step.”

“Huh?”

Your foot hit a small box.

You yelped as your balance vanished, but you didn’t land on the floor.

Your hands gripped his sleeves.

Well that was...

Then a laugh echoed behind you.

“Ohhh, what’s this now?”

You turned, and there stood Aventurine, leaning in the doorway. His grin said everything.

“I leave for five minutes and you’re already catching students in your arms?” Aventurine teased, striding in with a swagger that made you want to melt into the floor. “Is this what the paperwork’s hiding these days?”

Ratio gave him a withering look. “It’s your toy box.”

“Crafting kit,” Aventurine corrected, reaching for the package you’d tripped on. “Limited edition. Very important.”

You stepped away from Ratio quickly, brushing off your sleeves. “I didn’t see anything. I’m going.”

But Aventurine wasn’t done.

“Oh, no no.” He stopped you from leaving, facing Ratio with a wider grin. “I never thought you’d fall before me. You owe me dinner if you make it official, you know.”

Ratio simply returned to stamping papers.

You fled before either of them could say another word.

You cursed every god that ever existed when you saw Aventurine.

Leaning against your school gate with the same smirk, the same posture, the same glint in his eyes that had always meant trouble. You knew that smirk.

He used to live next door to you. You used to babysit his pet.

And now he was a teacher.

Worse, he remembered everything.

“Hey, neighbor. Or is it ex-neighbor?” he greeted, sliding into step beside you as if he hadn’t been absent from your life for years. “You know, I’ve been thinking—I should drop by again sometime. Say hi to your grandma. Maybe dig up that photo album she keeps. You remember the one with the duck pajamas?”

You glared. “That was ten years ago.”

He winked. “And yet, timeless.”

From that day forward, he never left you alone. Probably, just probably, he was trying to get anything from you that could be used against Ratio.

Between classes. After school. Even during lunch, he’d somehow “run into you.” Ruffling your hair. Poking your cheek and saying things like, “Still as pouty as ever.”

And of course, always right in front of Ratio.

He didn’t say anything at first.

When Aventurine appeared beside you, Dr. Ratio’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

To avoid anything that would happen out of his control.

He’d call on you to run some errands.

That day you stayed after class, Ratio set a new boundary.

“Do you enjoy his company?” Ratio asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“You know who. He seems to be around you quite a bit.”

“We’ve known each other for a while. He’s just teasing.”

“Is that all it takes to make you smile like that?”

“…Excuse me?”

He didn’t clarify. “Just an observation.”

He dismissed you with a wave.

But the truth is, he’d underestimated you. He couldn't sleep that night, thinking back everything he has ever done.

At first, he thought you were a troublemaker.

Well he hates people figuring out his second job and all.

And you somehow kept showing up in this peaceful life of his.

But now?

He’d grown used to your presence.

No.

Maybe if he stop worrying over such things, his life will be just like before.

Yes, that's it.

-----

You swore you’d never come back here.

And yet, here you were. Because your grandma had that look in her eye. The “I want to relax, and I’m dragging you with me” kind of look. You couldn’t say no, not after everything she’s done for you. So while she headed off for a soak, you wandered near the refreshment corner, cracking open a cold bottle of milk and parking yourself on a stool by the fogged-up window.

And then he walked in.

His hair was still damp, slightly messy like he’d just run a hand through it. The robe hung loose, gaping just enough to show a glimpse of toned collarbones and a frame that looked more like a personal trainer’s than a teacher’s. A towel was draped over one shoulder, but unlike the rest of us, flushed and scrambling after practice, he looked completely unbothered.

You looked. Just a flicker of attention, half a second longer than you meant to.

He noticed. His foot hovered mid-step. Then that slow tilt of his head, eyes locking onto yours with quiet, amused precision. Like he’d been waiting for it.

“Staring at others in public isn’t polite, you know.”

“I wasn’t—!”

“You were. I wonder, should I assign you a reflection paper on boundaries and professionalism?”

You glared, taking another sip of milk just to avoid speaking. You couldn’t argue. Not here. Not in front of your grandma, who was somewhere behind the sliding doors and would not tolerate “talking back to adults.”

A voice cut through the air.

“There you are!”

You both turned at the same time.

A woman, clearly a guest, approached with an air of flirtation so thick it made your teeth ache. She didn’t even glance your way, too busy pressing into Ratio’s space, her fingers grazing his arm like she had every right to.

“Oh, you’re so tense,” she purred, tracing a line down his bicep. “Do you work out? Or is it just natural…?”

His jaw tightened. He didn’t move, but he didn’t return the gesture either. You couldn't watch another second of this trainwreck. The pawing, the baby-talk voice - fucking disgusting. She might as well have started licking him right there in public.

“That’s enough,” you said sharply, stepping between them. “You’re making him uncomfortable.”

The woman blinked, as if noticing you for the first time. Her lip curled.

“And who are you?”

Ratio’s voice cut clean through the tension.

“We’re in a relationship.”

Your stomach dropped, like -what the hell? but you recovered fast. “Security, actually.” 

You snatched the towel off Ratio’s shoulder and dunked it in the nearby basin. “And you’re harassing guests.”

The woman barely had time to shriek before you flicked a wall of water straight at her. “The fuck—?”

“Bathhouse rules.” You wrung out the towel with a sharp twist. “Now move.”

Ratio watched, impassive, as she scrambled back, makeup running. “You—you—” She finally stomped off, slippers slapping like a drowned cat retreating.

You tossed the towel back at Ratio. “In a relationship? Seriously?”

He caught it without blinking. "It was the first thing that came to mind."

"Wow." You wiped your hands on your pants, grinning. "You suck at chasing women away, huh?"

"And you're exceptionally good at it. I should assign extra credit. A 5,000-word essay on conflict de-escalation techniques, perhaps?"

"You wouldn't."

"3,000 words. Due Monday."

"I yield!" You threw your hands up. "Next time I'll just let her climb you like a jungle gym!"

----

You started dreaming of him.

Not his voice. Not his face.

Just… him. Specifically: Professor Ratio shirtless in the bathhouse steam, towel hanging dangerously loose, water sliding down those unfairly sculpted shoulders like even physics was simping.

You’d wake up pissed.

Why him? Why your brain’s insistence on rendering him in 4K detail?

But dreams don’t negotiate.

Last Tuesday, you dreamed he hugged you, except it was less hug and more biceps chokehold. You tapped out. He didn’t let go. You woke up wheezing into your pillow, half-convinced you could still smell his cologne.

Then came the bad one: Ratio waiting in a dark classroom, idly curling a 50lb dumbbell. "You’ve been skipping lectures" he said, smiling. "Let’s… discuss your attendance." You ran, then woke up as the dumbbell whooshed toward your face.

You tried to ignore it at school. You really did.

But then the tiniest things started catching your attention.

Like how he always wore his shirt buttoned perfectly, until he was too distracted grading to notice one undone near his collarbone.

Or the way his sleeves rolled up just enough when he leaned over a desk.

The line of his throat when he tilted his head.

It got harder to hate him.

----

The exam period hit Ratio like a freight train.

You barely saw him on campus anymore, just fleeting glimpses of his back as he vanished into faculty meetings, or the ominous click of his office door locking mid-conversation with the dean. Rumor was he’d taken over grading three departments’ worth of papers after a colleague quit.

Which made it infuriating that he somehow still worked more shifts at the bathhouse.

You caught him one evening, as he scrubbed the mineral stains from the soaking pools. His hair was a mess, his knuckles red from hot water.

“Staring is rude.”

You jerked your gaze up. Ratio hadn’t even turned around.

“I wasn’t— You look like hell.”

“Eloquent.” He wrung out his rag. “If you’re here to complain about your exam score, I finished grading those at 4 AM. My patience is—”

“I’m here to help.”

Ratio finally turned around.

“Help, huh?”

“You’re clearly drowning.” You snatched the spare apron off the hook. “So here’s the deal: I work your bathhouse shifts. You get to sleep for once. And in exchange…”

You paused. He waited.

“You stop failing people for breathing wrong in class.”

Ratio’s expression didn’t change. “No.”

“And,” you barreled on, “you teach me how to get—” You gestured vaguely at all of him.

“…A doctorate?”

“That!” You pointed accusingly. “That right there is why no one likes you!”

Ratio exhaled through his nose. For a terrifying second, you thought he might actually laugh. Instead, he tossed you the rag.

“Terms amended: You assist, I consider curbing fail rates. The rest is delusional.”

“You literally look like a Renaissance statue.”

“And you,” he said, stepping past you to grab a bucket, “have the work ethic of a napping cat.”

You grinned. “So we’re agreed?”

Ratio didn’t answer. But when you showed up the next day, he’d left an extra uniform out.

---

Aventurine’s entrance was about as subtle as a firework in a library.

One moment, you were elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing at a stubborn stain on the bathhouse tiles. The next, a familiar voice purred directly into your ear

“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite little workaholic.”

You jumped, sending suds flying—straight into the face of your childhood menace-turned-unwelcome-admirer. Aventurine blinked, water dripping from his unfairly long lashes. Then, slowly, he grinned.

“Missed me that much, huh?”

“I missed the days when you moved away.” you shot back, wiping your hands on your apron.

Aventurine just laughed, leaning against the counter like he owned the place. “Heard you were playing bathhouse attendant now. Had to see it for myself.” His gaze flicked over your uniform.

You were about to retort when the temperature in the room dropped.

“The standard bathing time,” came a voice like iced tea, “is thirty minutes.”

“Professor! Didn’t know you moonlighted as a lifeguard.”

“Twenty-five minutes” 

Aventurine opened his mouth.

“Twenty.”

“Oh-ho? Someone’s territorial—”

“Fifteen.”

Aventurine, wisely, threw his hands up and sauntered off—but not before winking at you. “Save me the hot spring next time, yeah?”

The second he vanished, Ratio exhaled through his nose. “That is your neighbor? You sure he didn't escape from any prison or mental hospital?”

“Regrettably.”

“He’s banned from the cedar baths.”

“We don’t have cedar baths.”

Ratio didn’t smile. But the way he nudged the hot water valve just a little hotter as Aventurine yelped in the distance? That was something.

----

Ratio had insisted you stop working at the bathhouse. "Your academics take priority" he’d said, as if he hadn’t been the one drowning you in extra assignments before.

You obeyed, what else could you do.

"Ohhhhhh~ He’s into you!" Aventurine declared like a self-proclaimed romance expert. "But the man’s emotionally constipated. So! We help."

You eyed the fake love letter in his hands. "What is that?"

"This is strategy! You ‘confess.’ We reveal it’s a joke. He gets mad—which means he cares—then boom! Clarity!"

"Or he fails me."

"Risk versus reward, sweetheart." He grinned. "Besides, when have my plans ever backfired?"

Every time. But you still agreed.

You waited until after school, as you slipped into Ratio’s office. "You’re late for your club."

"I—" You shoved the letter at him. "I have something to say."

Ratio’s expression didn’t change as he read. But his grip creased the paper.

"This is… Unprofessional."

"But do you—"

The door slammed open.

"GOTCHA!" Aventurine crowed, phone out to film the whole thing. "Ohhh, Professor~! You should’ve seen your face—"

Ratio stood.

"Out."

Aventurine blinked. "Huh?"

"Get. Out. Now."

Aventurine fled. You didn’t.

Ratio didn’t look at you. "You too."

-----

You tried everything. Morning greetings, putting his favorite drink on his desk, volunteering to grade papers,.. Nothing works.

Even Aventurine, now banned from your texts, had the decency to look guilty. "Okay, maybe I underestimated how petty he could be."

You gave up.

When your grandma invited you to the bathhouse, you begged off. "Not feeling it today."

She eyed you. "You’ve been moping like a kicked puppy."

"I’m fine."

She went there on her own.

The bathhouse storage room door creaked open. "Young man? Could you help an old woman with these buckets?"

Ratio looked up from his inventory logs to your grandmother struggling with two overfilled water pails. As he took the buckets from her, she squinted up at his face in the dim light.

"Well now," she chuckled, "I know you. You're that strict professor from the university." Her eyes twinkled with sudden recognition. "The one who's got my grandchild moping around like a wet chick these past weeks."

Ratio nearly dropped the buckets. "I—"

"Ah, ah." She waved a finger. "No need for teacher talk here. This is bathhouse business." Taking one bucket back, she gestured for him to follow. "Come, come. These won't carry themselves."

As they walked, she continued as if discussing the weather: "You know, when I was young, there was a boy who fancied me something terrible. Handsome as sunrise, dumb as a post." She laughed at Ratio's expression. "Oh yes! He once stood outside my window for three hours holding a turnip because he heard I liked soup."

Ratio opened his mouth, then closed it. The grandmother hummed as they set the buckets by the soaking pools.

"Took me years to realize - men either say too much or nothing at all." She fixed Ratio with a knowing look. "The smart ones are worst for it. Think they need perfect words when really..." She patted his arm. "Even a turnip would do."

Ratio stared at the rising steam. "It's... complicated."

"Is it?" She tilted her head. "Or have you just been thinking so hard you forgot to feel?" With that, she shuffled off.

That night, your phone buzzed.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Your grandmother is terrifying.

You sat up. 

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Meet me at the bathhouse. 8 PM.

YOU: Are you going to yell at me again?

RATIO: No.

RATIO: I’m bringing tea.

You arrived at the bathhouse to find Ratio already there, two steaming cups of tea set neatly on the counter. He didn’t look up when you entered, but his shoulders tensed—just slightly.

"You came" he said, as if he hadn’t been the one to text you.

"You asked"

Finally, Ratio exhaled. "Your grandmother is… persuasive."

You snorted. "She threatened you or something?"

He pushed one of the cups toward you. "Drink. I brewed it the way you like"

"You remember that?"

"I remember many things. Including how… unfairly I acted."

You sipped the tea. It was perfect. "Yeah, well. Aventurine’s the one who should be apologizing, not you."

"He will. Extensively."

"I overreacted," he admitted, staring into his cup. "Because the idea of you… pretending to care for me was…"

"It was a stupid prank. But you ignored me for days. You don’t get to be the wounded party here."

"You’re right."

"And if you had just talked to me instead of sulking—"

"I know." He finally met your eyes. "But I did care. That’s the problem."

"I hated how much it mattered," he continued "And then you—"

"I what?"

"Nothing.."

"If you’d just talked to me instead of being a drama queen, maybe we could’ve figured this out sooner."

"So what now?"

The door slammed open.

"DON’T HIT ME I BROUGHT SNACKS—" Aventurine skidded to a halt, arms full of convenience store bags, eyes darting between you and Ratio. "…Oh."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Ohhh." He grinned, "You two made up."

"Get out."

"Nope! I’m here to apologize." Aventurine dropped the snacks on the counter with a flourish. "And also to witness whatever this is."

You sighed. "We’re talking. Like adults."

"Boring." He ripped open a bag of chips. "But fine. I’ll be your emotional support menace."

And for the first time in days, you both sighed in unison.

-----

You could tell were the inspiration came from.

[navybrat817]

How does Bucky handle you being sick? 🥺

I may have gone overboard, nonnie. 😂

Sick Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you get a cold. He also takes care of the guy who may have given you a cold.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, humor, established relationship, reader has a cold, implied smut, interrogation, Bucky Barnes being a ridiculously wonderful boyfriend in love (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I don't know where this came from. Maybe a bit of inspiration from @inklore here. 😂❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When you had a hard time getting out of bed this morning due to a cold you caught at work, you tried to brush it off. Bucky immediately called in to take a personal day and said he had to take care of you, which forced you to take a sick day as well. It was for the best. You had a tendency to push yourself past your limit some days and he kept you in check.

You snatched a tissue out of the box beside you just in time to sneeze into it. With a pained groan, you scrunched up your face and dropped the tissue into the small pile in your lap. It took you a moment to sip your water, followed by your herbal tea. Though your throat was sore, you had to stay hydrated. You also had to get some rest.

Bucky wouldn’t let you hear the end of it if you didn’t.

“I hate this,” you mumbled to yourself before your boyfriend rushed into the living room to check on you, his piercing eyes searching the room as if to assess a threat.

“I heard you talking, baby. You need to rest your voice,” he said, adjusting the humidifier he set on the coffee table before his concerned gaze snapped back to you. “Wait. Do you need something? Do you not have enough blankets? I can get you more tea. Or I can put something on TV. Shit, where’s the writing pad?”

You tried not to smile as the massive shirtless supersoldier bustled around the room. He hadn’t seen you under the weather since the two of you started dating and you should’ve known he’d make a big deal out of it. Whether it had to do with growing up with Steve who dealt with all sorts of ailments or simply because it was his girlfriend feeling less than stellar, you weren’t sure. Either way, it was endearing to see the former Winter Soldier worked up over you.

He had nothing to worry about though.

“I’m fine,” you croaked before you went into a coughing fit.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he crouched beside you and brought the water back to your lips once you had yourself under control. His brows furrowed when he checked your forehead with his right hand, which made you fall in love with him a little more. You tried to tell him earlier to keep his distance so he didn’t get sick before he gently reminded you that he wasn’t exactly prone to catching colds thanks to the serum.

A silver lining from the pain he had to go through.

“You’re not fine. You’re sick. Well, you’re still 'fine',” he smiled a little, making your heart swell. “I used that in the right context, didn’t I?”

You almost went into another coughing fit as you giggled, the sound huskier and deeper than normal. “Only you would think I’m fine when I’m like this,” you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his silky chestnut hair. He hadn’t brushed it today. Too busy taking care of you. “And I’m not ‘sick’ sick. it’s just a cold.”

“It isn’t just a cold. Not to me,” he said, his jaw clenching as his vibranium fingers curled.

“I’ll be better before you know it,” you assured him, raising an eyebrow as his cheek twitched. “What’s the matter?”

Why is he getting himself worked up?

“I just don’t like you feeling any kind of pain,” he said, leaning up so he could press his lips to your forehead. He huffed as they lingered there. “I wish I could take it away and I can’t.”

It was a sweet sentiment, especially after everything he went through.

“I know you would if you could and it’s okay that you can’t,” you said. You understood where he was coming from though because you didn’t like the idea of him in pain either. He had a heart almost as large as his body and you were lucky to get a single ounce of his love. “Don’t worry, okay?”

“You’re my girl and it's impossible not to worry,” he said, a touch of possession and tenderness seeping into his tone. Belonging to him was as natural as breathing. “But I'll try to relax a bit.”

“As long as you try,” you said as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

Your head tingled from his lips before you frowned. This close, you could usually get a whiff of his woodsy cologne. Your eyes welled up when you inhaled again and couldn’t smell him, doing your best to blink the tears away so he wouldn't catch them. It was silly that you suddenly missed the comfort of that smell because your nose was acting up.

He didn’t need your tears on top of that.

But, of course, he caught your sad sniffle, which sounded slightly different from your cold sniffle. His body stiffened, like a cobra ready to strike. “Tell me what’s wrong, even if I can’t physically fix it.”

God, I love this man.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I really miss the smell of your cologne,” you told him, your gaze probably nothing short of pathetic as you tilted your head to see his handsome face.

Your breath caught when he looked back at you and brushed a tear away with his thumb. There was nothing but love and adoration in those brilliant eyes of his. It made you feel lighter.

“That’s far from ridiculous because I smell amazing,” he teased, bumping his nose against yours to bring a smile to your face. “How about I spray the blankets after you take a nap and I make you some soup? That way my scent will be there even if you can't smell it.”

Tears clogged your throat as you gave him a nod, committing the moment to memory. You were used to going it alone before he came into your life. He couldn’t take the pain away, but he could make you feel better in ways that mattered to you. That likely comforted him just as much as it soothed you.

“That would be great,” you said, yawning a bit. “Can we watch a movie after my nap?”

“We'll watch whatever you want.”

You pulled him close so he could join you on the couch, knowing that his muscular and warm frame against yours would feel just as comforting and safe as the blanket that covered you. And he relaxed and quickly accepted your wordless invitation to wrap his arms around you, keeping you in his loving embrace. It was home and always would be.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, closing your eyes as you nuzzled your head against his bare chest. “I love you.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” he promised, his vibranium hand moving in slow circles along your back as you began to drift off. “I love you, too.”

You let out a happy moan before you said one more thing. “And hunt down the person who gave me this cold, okay?”

With your eyes shut, you didn’t see the determination written all over his face. “You got it, baby.”

You were right as rain and back to work a couple of days later, thanks to Bucky caring for you and some much needed rest. Not even an hour into your shift though, Steve requested for you to meet him in the second lower level. You didn't hide your surprise as that was usually reserved for interrogations.

Which was exactly why he called you down there.

“What's going on?” You asked as you walked into the viewing room. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Tony all looked your way, but didn't give you any sort of response. “Seriously, what's up?”

“You don't know?” Natasha responded, nodding toward the glass.

You followed her gaze with a gasp as you saw Bucky tower over some blonde male agent in the cell. Your boyfriend was almost unrecognizable with his face devoid of any emotion, dominant and on the edge of terrifying. It was a far cry from the loving side you were privy to, yet you loved this side of him just the same.

“Buck dragged John down here a few minutes ago,” Steve explained in a quiet voice as he punched the bridge of his nose. “Said something about him hurting you.”

You tilted your head as you looked at John, recognizing him after a second due to his punchable face. “Him? No. He didn't hurt me. He just bumped into me the other day in the break room,” you explained. Which wasn't that big of a deal to you, but probably offensive to Bucky. “But he didn't apologize.”

He also had a cold.

Oh, no.

“So, you had nothing to do with this?” Sam asked, chuckling as you lifted your chin.

“No, I didn't,” you replied as you bit your lip. “At least, I don't think I had anything to do with this.”

Your heart raced faster when Bucky pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and gripped John by the collar, the veins in his right arm popping out. You wished you could lick them. Maybe later.

“I know it was you, you piece of shit,” he said, roughly shoving the agent back into his chair. “You got my girl sick.”

Oh, Bucky.

You stared straight ahead as you felt the group collectively look your way, refusing to react under their stares. “Before any of you say another word, this is definitely not my fault,” you stated.

“Of course it isn't,” Natasha smirked. She knew Bucky loved to play the hero on your behalf even though you could take care of yourself. “Just enjoy the show.”

Your mouth fell open as your boyfriend slammed his left fist on the table, leaving a sizable dent as John nearly fell backwards in his chair. This guy was an agent? He was either new to interrogations or simply scared shitless of the former assassin.

Maybe both.

But you ignored him as you shifted your attention back to your beefy, perfect boyfriend.

When you had mumbled for him to find the person who gave you the cold, you didn’t think he’d actually do it. You weren’t sure how he narrowed down to John, but the former assassin was resourceful and you should've known he'd take you seriously. And, fuck, if it wasn’t slightly mortifying on your behalf and hot as hell watching him in action.

“That cold you gave her made her cry. You made my girl cry. Do you know what I do to guys like you who make my girl cry?” Bucky said through his teeth, bringing his fist down on the table again as John flinched and you smiled. With all the strength he possessed, you never had to worry that he'd hurt you. But you couldn't say the same for the frightened agent. “You're about to find out.”

You didn't think you could love Bucky more after he helped you get over your cold, but he proved you wrong.

And you could now add Bucky threatening people to your list of things that made you dreamily sigh and tingle between your thighs.

“Look, I'm sorry. I’m sorry! All I did was bump into her. It was an accident!” John shouted, putting his hands up in surrender and trembling when Bucky stood to his full height and cracked his neck. Your boyfriend waited a beat before he grabbed one of his hands and began to twist, making the agent pale as you bit back a whimper. “Fuck, stop! I won’t even breathe around her again. I’ll hold my breath! Just let me go!”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Tony asked you, taking out his phone to type a quick message as you hummed. Maybe you were enjoying it. How many guys went out of their way to scare someone who possibly gave you a cold? “Does the Manchurian Candidate know how much I’ll have to pay to keep this guy from suing him?”

“We can tell him it was a prank?” Steve suggested, bringing another laugh out of Sam as Natasha shook her head.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he flung the hand away, his hair falling in his eyes as you held your breath. He looked like a wild animal, untamed and stunning. “I should choke you. Make you see how long you can really hold your breath before you pass out,” he snarled as John rubbed his sore skin.

Steve snuck a glance at you, his cheeks a little pink when you put a hand to your throat. “I don't want to overstep because you're my best friend's girl, but you do know you just moaned, right?” He whispered low enough for only you to hear.

Oops.

“Oh, my god,” you groaned, putting your warm face in your hands to hide your embarrassment for a moment. “Is anyone going to stop him?!”

“Why haven’t you stopped him?” Natasha countered knowingly.

Because I’m too busy thinking of how I’m going to suck his dick so good later that I'll make him see God.

You took a breath as the ache between your legs got stronger and pressed the button beside the glass. “Bucky?”

He swung his head toward the glass and met your gaze even though he couldn’t see you. No matter what, he’d always be able to spot you. “Hey, baby. I found the prick who gave you a cold. Want me to beat the shit out of him?” he bragged as John paled.

“I love you,” you giggled from how sweet and ridiculous he was. “And no. I appreciate you defending me, but I think you can let him go.”

Tony playfully rolled his eyes when Bucky grinned. “Your crazy matches his crazy.”

True.

“Okay. I love you, too,” Bucky said in a light tone, his smile falling the second he looked back at John and smacked the table against the wall with a clang. The agent looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Next time you see my girl, apologize and walk away. And the next time you have a cold, stay the fuck home or you'll answer to me.”

Yeah. I’m going to suck the soul from his body to thank him for everything the moment we get home.

And maybe the two of you could take another sick day to spend the day in bed.

Totally normal boyfriend, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[kistnlads]

𝙃𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝙈𝙀𝙈𝘽𝙀𝙍𝙎 (QP1)

Decided to post my brainrot/self-indulgent quick prompt on how the LIs handle MC's period... because, well, I’m dealing with the emotional rollercoaster myself right now...

After a long day at work, you step outside, only to find him waiting for you. Confused, you approach, wondering why he’s here, and he studies you intently before checking his phone.

It’s the first day of your period.

Xavier brightens (not literally) the moment he sees you.

“Hey. How was work? Are you feeling okay?”

You tilt your head, confused by his sudden concern. Before you can ask, Xavier glances at his phone, scrolling for a moment before looking back at you with a sheepish smile.

“It’s, uh… that time of the month, right?” His voice is gentle, almost hesitant. “I just wanted to check if you needed anything.”

Without waiting for an answer, he pulls a small bag from behind him. Inside are your favorite comfort snacks, a fluffy heat pack, and a bottle of warm tea.

“I wasn’t sure what would help, so I got a little bit of everything.” He rubs the back of his neck, eyes full of warmth. “And, uh… if you need distractions, I found a cute cat café nearby. Thought it might help.”

His concern is pure and unassuming, and he’s not teasing, not overbearing, just genuinely wanting to make you feel better.

Zayne watches you closely, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. When you look at him confused, he sighs, as if expecting this reaction.

“You tend to forget to take care of yourself,” he murmurs, unlocking his phone and glancing at his notes. “It’s the first day of your period.”

You initially assumed it was just a regular stomach ache.

“You usually get cramps around this time. Have you eaten?” He states it like a fact, like something he’s committed to memory as part of his duty to take care of you.

Before you can even respond, he pulls a small bag from behind him—inside are heat patches, painkillers, and your favorite snacks.

“I don’t want you passing out on the way home,” Zayne says, voice gentle. “Come on, I’ll take you back.”

He doesn’t make a big deal of it. He just makes sure you’re taken care of. Because, to him, that’s what love is.

Rafayel doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. As soon as you approach, he checks his phone before speaking.

“You’re late.”

You blinked in confusion. “Late for what?”

He looks at you, unimpressed. “To take care of yourself, obviously.”

Without another word, he hands you a neatly packed bag. Inside is a precise selection of herbal teas, pain relief patches, and a carefully balanced meal.

“I researched the best remedies,” he states matter-of-factly. “And that is you should rely on me more.”

Well… it’s the closest thing to an admission that he worries about you... very much.

Sylus grins the moment you spot him.

“Took you long enough.” He lifts his phone, scrolling lazily before stopping. “Looks like I got the timing just right.”

You frown. “Timing for what?”

He slings an arm over your shoulders, walking you toward his parked motorcycle. “For me to kidnap you. Thought I’d save you from work misery and get you some comfort food.”

You halted him with a frown, and he released you.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m a very attentive man.” He crosses his arms, tilting his head. “You always get extra grumpy around this time, so I figured I’d do something about it.”

“I'm not grumpy—” Your words were cut off as he gently patted your head.

“I got a whole day planned… comfort food, bad movies, and all the attention you can handle.”

Before you can protest, he grabs the helmet and secures it on you, his usual cocky smirk softening just a bit.

“Don’t argue, sweetie—just let me spoil you today.”

He might play it cool, but the fact that he remembered your cycle down to the day? That says more than his words ever could.

Caleb holds up his phone, wiggling it between his fingers like it’s some grand reveal.

“Today’s a special day.”

You just stare at him, then he leans in closer, voice dropping into a whisper.

“Pipsqueak, don’t tell me you forgot again.”

You looked confused as he let out a low chuckle.

“Your period started, didn’t it?” His teasing grin widens when you gaped at him. “What, don’t look at me like that. I keep track of the important things.”

He tucks his phone away and steps closer, his hand ghosting over your lower back.

“I was wondering if you’d need me to carry you home. Or…” He leans in, lips just by your ear. “...if you’d rather be pampered in bed.”

You gave him a quick smack on the arm, earning a chuckle from him. Then, he ruffles your hair before slipping a warm drink into your hands.

“Drink up. I can’t have you suffering on my watch.”

Hope you all like it, and maybe it helps a bit with period stress and discomfort too! Which one do you like most, and why? Let me know!

[adelar-plays]

halsin said that he hibernates until the thaw, and i can't stop imagining how nice it can be now that he has you and the children

he can avoid hibernating if necessary, but he becomes restless and a bit irritable when depraved of his winter nap. even though he still treats everyone with kindness, if you know him well enough, you notice that many things make him less happy and he gets irritated mainly with himself, so it's kinder to not demand him to stay awake and just let him sleep

you anticipated his awakening ever since you first sensed the change in weather. this unmistakable earthy smell of spring – thawing snow, waking up soil and roots and worms in it, all fills you with impatience and joy

so maybe today

you’ve been waking up early for the last few days to be the first one to know. to be there waiting for him, being happy to see him

maybe today

he wakes up in a pile of... well, everything that definitely wasn't here when he went to sleep

while he was sleeping, children brought him all their plushie treasures that helped them ward off nightmares when they were alone and didn’t have you and each other. they’ve put their owlbear toys around halsin so he wouldn't be lonely and scared in his dreams, someone put a blanket over him, someone even half managed to put a pillow under his head – not a small feat, mind you. more mischievous kids have been piling their toys atop him just for the fun of it, to see if it would wake him up, and giggling when it didn't

it's so much better than waking up alone and in the same empty room. the mess kids created around him is an evidence that he's now loved and cared for

and he has his suspicions about who might’ve brought him this blanket

he stretches his muscles, feeling his heart rate quickening*, and slightly unsteadily from a long sleep comes out

the smell of a bear who just spent months curled up in a cave is... well, not exactly exquisite, he knows it and lets out a slightly embarrassed chuckle when you put him in tight embrace, noticing that he's a little easier to hug now than when you did it kissing him goodnight**

the kids are sleeping yet. they demanded to know immediately when daddy halsin is back, and even tried to take turns staying awake and keeping watch – none of them lasted past 2 am, and you had to bring them to their beds. you don’t wake them up just yet, because you want to have some time for you two

you make him his first in this year huge mug of herbal tea with honey that you secretly stashed away and saved for him, and he fills his pipe, while you knead his stiff shoulders and untangle his hair

and, honestly, this moment is so worth waiting the whole winter for

*bears’ heart rate drops to 8-10 beats a minute while they hibernate **bears lose up to 33% of their weight while hibernating

[rottenpumpkin13]

😔usual lazard anon here, not feeling so emotionally well today,

can we have what if agzs threw a birthday party for lazard?

I hope you feel better soon! 💚🫂

*AGSZ surprise Lazard with a perfectly normal, mundane birthday party*

Everyone: Surprise!

Lazard: What's the catch?

Genesis: What catch?

Lazard: Usually, there's a catch, like fireworks-related injuries, accidental criminal activity, or something that would give me a heart attack.

Angeal: I can't believe you think of us that way.

Sephiroth: Yes, we went out of our way to throw you a fun party, and now you don't trust us?

Zack, holding a cake: I even baked you a cake!

Sephiroth: He even baked you a cake.

Zack: Yeah! I got the recipe from Reno. It contains two cups of flour, one cup of sugar, three eggs, a teaspoon of vanilla extract, a pinch of salt, a tablespoon of crushed-up energy drink pills for maximum partying energy—

Lazard:

Genesis: We got you streamers, balloons, all these festive decorations.

Zack: —half a cup of unsweetened cocoa powder, one cup of butter, a dash of baking powder, a mysterious herbal infusion for relaxation that you shouldn't worry about—

Lazard:

Angeal: We even have party games lined up! Like pin the tail on the chocobo.

Sephiroth: And a trivia contest about you which I've organized.

Zack: —two cups of chocolate chips, one cup of crushed walnuts, a drop of baking soda, some mako—

Lazard: !

Genesis: And I've downloaded a playlist of your favorite songs.

Zack: —and for decoration, I used organic edible flowers, dark chocolate ganache, and a chemical I bought on the internet that's supposed to mimic the feeling of ecstasy. Would you like some?

Lazard: NO?

Sephiroth: If you don't eat it I will.

Lazard: NO YOU WON'T—

[s-awturn]

Underworld Sun || LH44

summary: It only took an unpretentious visit to a local florist for all of Lewis's convictions to come crashing down, and finally the lord of the Underworld found what was missing in his lonely existence.

cw: dark content, slightly stalkerish behavior, nostalgia, pure smut, Lewis!dom x reader!sub, revelation, mention of magic, violence, outbursts of rage, (fake) naivety, devotion, deep love, soulmates, family interference, mention of kidnapping.

a/n: After weeks (my God, how embarrassing) I'm updating this little story that came to celebrate my first hundred followers and today I have three hundred and a little bit, I can't help but be happy and surprised by this, like, you guys really like what I write (give me a minute, I'm emotional here) Anyway, I hope you like it and I apologize, but in this story I really can't bring long chapters.

chapter two

The mastiffs were waiting for him as soon as he stepped into the Black Forest, the black dogs guiding him through the trees, not caring if Lewis was following them. He could feel the dense magic of the place mixing with the magic of Hecate, the goddess of witches was present in every corner of that forest, in the trunks of the majestic pine trees, in the dry leaves on the ground, even in the drops of dew on the plants. Hecate was in everything, watching Hades entering her enclosure, waiting for him to come to her.

And it didn't take long for him to arrive.

A Germanic Gothic cottage, with a window box of wisteria and hyacinths, and more black dogs lying in the doorway. The relaxed posture of the resting mastiffs did little to hiding how attentive they were, Lewis knew that all it took was one false move, one misinterpreted thought for those dogs to tear his body apart until only bones remained. Lewis smelled herbal tea and fruitcake, and Hecate's husky, powerful voice came through the air like a whisper, humming an old lullaby, singing about old gods, past wars and forgotten glories.

The cabin doors opened and Lewis paused for a few seconds, he didn't know if he was ready for whatever Hecate might tell him. He could have gone after Apollo or Athena, but he knew that his nephews would not hesitate to report their concerns to Zeus and everything would become a big family affair, like everything in that family. Hecate was trustworthy, discreet and antisocial, like him, so there was no one better to give Hades any information without ending up in one of the Olympian interrogations.

“As tempting as it may be, I don’t want a salt statue of the god of the underworld on my doorstep, so just come in,” he hears her say, and as if a hand were pushing him, Lewis enters, hearing the doors slam shut with a thud.

The inside of the cabin was exactly as he expected, cozy, mystical, and dark. Candles were scattered everywhere, the smell of hemp mingling with the aroma of the Black Forest. It was easy to recognize who that hut belonged to.

“I hope you’re hungry, I used my best herbs to make a tea, so you better eat.” He found her in the kitchen, arranging the food on the table.

Hecate was a tall, slender woman with dark hair, pale skin, and eyes as dark as night. Small veins of magic flickered around her, making Hecate's hair levitate, the goddess making it clear why she was one of the most powerful in the entire pantheon, powerful enough to make Zeus afraid to face her.

No one would want to be blacklisted by the heiress of Nyx and Erebus.

“I heard some interesting rumors, could you confirm which ones are true?” She pointed to the chair, waiting for him to settle in. Hades opened the button on his jacket and picked up the cup of tea.

“That depends, what rumors have you been hearing?”

“About Persephone, the walls of Tartarus, and something about the games being canceled…”

“The walls are actually falling down, this makes it easier for Cronus and his minions to try to get out..” he clarified, “And as for Persephone... Don't ask me how, but Zeus said she's alive, but remains hidden in some corner of the planet, without manifesting its powers or any trace of its divinity.”

Hecate looked at the god of the dead over the rim of the cup, the goddess's nocturnal eyes seeming to capture the details that Hades left out “And what do you want, Lewis? I like your visits, but I doubt this was a courtesy”

“I was with the Moirai, with the walls of Tartarus crumbling, my domains are in danger, I need to know what to do to stop it”

“and they said what?”

"that I should seek what is lost, but I do not understand" Hades mutters, he hated not knowing things, hated looking like a fool with no answers.

“Her eyes shone, as bright as when the Milky Way appeared in the sky.

“Tell me Hades, do you feel it?”

“What?”

“You feel that hole deep in your soul, deep, immense, growing bigger every day, devouring more and more pieces of you. Something in you was lost so many years ago that you can't even remember.” Hecate said, her voice taking on a deep, dark tone. “"If you don't find what you lost, if you don't fill that hole, Tartarus will continue to crumble, you will continue to be threatened”

“But what did I lose, Hecate?”

“It's not something, it's someone, Hades”

Olympus

“She is your daughter too, Zeus!” Demeter shouted, she didn’t care about Hera’s fierce glares, the queen of the gods detested any mention of Zeus’s bastards. “Bring her home, Zeus!”

All the Olympian gods and creatures felt the tremors shaking Mount Olympus. The trees seemed to grow and it seemed that winter had come early.

“Hermes and Apollo are after her, Demeter, what do you want me to do? Go down there and open every hole in the earth to look for her?” Zeus said, he seemed too calm and peaceful for Demeter, the goddess of agriculture made the entire Earth shake, she might not be the mistress of earthquakes, but no one would want to anger her, well, except Zeus.

“Yes! Because you never thought twice before turning the Earth upside down looking for your lovers!" She said and finally saw Zeus abandon his composure. The heavenly eyes of the king of the gods turned stormy and lightning crackled around him, making the air static. Demeter was approaching a dangerous limit, but she was never known for temperance.

“Hold your sharp tongue, Demeter, I have already made it clear that Hermes and Apollo will bring Persephone back." He stood up, making everyone in the dome fall silent. "Now speak to me like this again and I will ensure that you spend the rest of eternity sealed in an amphora"

Demeter clenched her jaw, trying to contain her anger, she knew it was not good to contradict Zeus when he spoke in that tone, never. Everyone still remembered finding Hera imprisoned on a golden throne, punished for her own arrogance in plotting against her husband. Zeus was benevolent, but even his charity had limits.

“I understand your fears, sister, Persephone has been lost for centuries, I too want her back and I demand that Apollo and Hermes do their best to bring her home”

Demeter nodded and gave a measured bow before leaving the dome, letting the soft scent of ripe wheat perfume the air.

“Athena, Artemis and Hestia, join Apollo and Hermes and help in the search for Persephone, I will not allow us to spend the next equinox celebration with our incomplete family.” He ordered before leaving the dome, making it clear that he would not admit failure, there was no possibility that Persephone would not be home by the next winter equinox.

The gods scattered, wondering what might happen if the goddess of spring was not home in time.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[viccyfics]

“look me in the eyes and tell me that you slept last night. better yet if you slept last night.” bochum greasedinah?

Thank you for the prompt! I love how many Starlight express fans are giving me prompts :)

(prompt list)

READ UNDER THE CUT OR ON AO3

Dinah had been struggling the last few weeks, it seemed like everything was going wrong, first, she had a pregnancy scare, then her oven stopped working, then Carrie had to take medical leave and Dinah took her hours as well as her own, and after that, she had to deal with Pearl leaving her kitchen a mess after trying to bake Rusty a cake and forgot to clean up…and now, she couldn’t sleep.

She had been struggling to sleep for a while, waking up at random hours for no reason and then struggling to go back to sleep, she’d even tried taking melatonin, drinking herbal tea, then lavender and camomile tea, even using lavender oils, and exhausting herself out before bed, but nothing was working.

And Greaseball was growing more concerned, and Dinah didn’t seem to be as concerned about her own well-being like he was. They were both like that though, and didn’t care about their own illness or injuries, but when it came to the other they would do whatever they could to help, they were strange like that.

But it had been nearly three days since she slept longer than four hours, and Dinah was crumbling, she was exhausted, mentally and physically.

She’d dropped an oven tray early today, and reached out to grab it...except the hand with an oven mitt wasn’t the hand she reached with, resulting in her burning her hand, and then dropped a plate of food over Momma, so the old Steamer gave in and Dinah to have the rest of the day off.

She never dropped trays, ever. Her hands had started to shake, and she was positive she was hearing things.

"Darlin'," Greaseball sighed, taking Dina’s hand, moving her over the couch when she came back to the shed, tears flowing down her cheeks. "You’re running on fumes."

Dinah blinked slowly, sinking into the soft cushions, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel tired, but my brain won’t shut off.”

"Then lemme help you," Greaseball frowned, “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

She looked at him for a moment, really looked at him. His eyes were lined with worry, jaw tight like it always was when he felt helpless. She didn’t want to add to that. But she also couldn’t keep pretending. “I think I need to talk to someone,” she whispered. “Like… a professional.”

Greaseball didn’t flinch, didn’t pull a face or groan, he just nodded and gently took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “I need you to answer me something, Doll,”

Dinah nodded, her head feeling heavy as she did so.

“And I know you’re going to lie so I don’t worry,” Greaseball continued, “But I need the truth.”

“Yeah, fine,” Dinah sighed, wiping at her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

“Have you been hearing things that aren’t really there?” Greaseball asked softly. “Like voices or noises, anything like that?”

Dinah’s breath hitched, she didn’t look at him, she couldn’t, how did he know? “I thought it was the pipes at first. Or maybe the radio was left on in the other room. But…” Dinah trailed off, swallowing hard. “It’s not. I keep thinking I hear Belle calling for help. Or Pearl yelling, or you calling my name or the oven beeping. But nothing’s there.”

“That’s ‘cause you can’t sleep princess, it happens when you’re so tired.”

Dinah hummed in response, not wanting to actually think of how long it had been since she slept.

“Doll,” Greaseball whispered, moving from next to her on the couch to kneeling on the floor in front of her, “Look me in the eyes and tell me you slept last night. Better yet if you slept last night.”

“What’s the difference?” Dinah asked, rubbing at the side of her head.

Greaseball’s brow furrowed deeper, his hands coming to rest on her knees, “I’m guessin’ you didn’t sleep then.”

Dinah didn’t answer. She didn’t need to, he could read her better than anyone else.

“Alright,” he nodded slowly, trying to stay calm himself down, “ You’re not goin’ back to the kitchen tomorrow, or the day after. I’m takin’ you off shift.”

“You can’t do that,” Dinah muttered, her eyes fluttering closed for a second too long. “You don’t have control over the coaches.”

“I’ll chain myself to the fridge if I have to,” Greaseball grunted, dead serious. “I’ll call Momma and tell her you’re on a forced vacation. You think she won’t back me up after you dropped a whole plate of stew on her lap?”

Dinah let out a weak laugh “She called you didn’t she?"

“She did, and she still said she loves you. So she’ll understand.”

Dinah let out a yawn, not caring enough to cover it.

“I know it won’t help but let’s go cuddle, and then I’ll order some food.” Greaseball suggested, scooping Dinah up in his arms and carrying her towards their bedroom, “What do ya’ fancy?”

Dinah shrugged, “I’m too tired to eat.”

Greaseball carefully set her down on the bed, “We’ll take you to see someone tomorrow, I hate seeing ya’ like this, it hurts.”

Dinah rolled onto her side, facing the wall. She was too tired to talk, but she couldn’t deal with Greaseball worrying himself over her. But she couldn’t blame him, she knew how she looked, and she knew how much Greaseball hated it.

He hated how pale she looked under the soft yellow light, Hated how even with the burn cream, her hand was red and swollen. Hated how she hadn’t really eaten. And mostly, he hated the way her eyes looked, they were dull, dimmed like someone had flipped a switch inside her and forgot to turn it back on, nothing at all like her usual bright ones that were so full of life, joy, and hope.

“You want music?” Greaseball asked after a minute. “White noise? That ocean stuff you used to like?”

Dinah frowned faintly, eyes focusing on the brick walls, noticing that some of the cracks looked like faces...did they even look like that normally or was she hallucinating? “Not the ocean, I tried that the other night and I felt like I was drowning.”

Greaseball winced, “Starlight, that’s dark…what about rain instead?”

“Maybe.”

Greaseball stood up and walked over to their joint vinyl and CD player, and put in one of Dinah’s rain CDs she loved so much, kicking off his jeans at the same time and grabbing Dinah’s nightgown. Soon the room filled with the relaxing pitter-patter of rainfall and distant thunder, making Dinah smile softly.

“Y’know,” Greaseball murmured, placing her nightgown on the edge of the bed, “back when I was haulin’ across state lines every week, there were days I couldn’t sleep for nothin’ either. My body was dead tired but my brain wouldn’t let up. Kept worrying about wrecks, brake failures, getting pulled over.”

Dinah let out a soft breath, almost a sigh.

“I used to put on this old cassette from my Pop,” he continued. “It was just train sounds. Real ones. Wheels over the track, horns in the distance. It worked like a lullaby. Every time.”

Dinah shifted, turning her head slightly toward him. “Was it a human thing he found?”

“Nope,” Greaseball grinned, popping the p, “He bought a recorder and put it near our shed and did it just for me.”

“Do you still have it?”

“Somewhere. Might be buried in the garage under the junk pile.”

Dinah let out a small chuckle.

“I can make you one if you want, it might help, and if it doesn’t you can have a tape of me being an idiot.”

Dinah let out a louder laugh, “Yeah, but you’re my idiot, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

[writingseaslugs]

Savanaclaw: When They're Sick

This one was fun to write, even if I was brain dead while writing the last half of Ruggie and all of Jack’s. I should be going to bed since I’m doing this after work, but the want to write is strong today.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please click the “Au Information” below!

Request Information | Masterlist | Au Information

Savanaclaw: When They’re Sick

Something that Beastmen didn’t talk about was their cold season. Illnesses affected the different races…well differently. For beastmen it meant they were significantly weaker; you’d think they were on death’s door. Even getting out of bed to take care of their needs was taxing. It was like the man flu but made ten times worse. Any prideful beastman refuses to acknowledge this shortcoming of their race, but it was undeniable. The moment one beastman got sick, the others stayed far away so they didn’t suffer the same fate.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is both the easiest and hardest person to take care of while sick. The good news is he goes by the theory that he can just sleep it all off and will take that route. Still, he needs medicine and food, and when he’s too weak to leave the bed, he’s calling on Ruggie to help him out. Bad news is Ruggie is also sick and can barely get out of bed, so he was planning on just suffering for a few days until he could venture out and get what he needed.

That was when Leona had a wonderful idea and contacted you. In his mind, you still owed him big time for that time he let you stay in his room, and you were about to repay a part of that debt today. So don’t be surprised when you’re called to his room and he’s treating you like one of the servants. Put the sick lion in his place and inform him that you’re not a servant and, although you’ll take care of him, if he continues to treat you like one you’re dropping food and medicine by his bed and leaving. He gets the memo and is feeling far too crummy to even argue with you.

Now Leona hates medicine with a burning passion. The artificial sweetness in cough syrups and the herbal qualities of everything else was gag inducing. You’re going to have to figure out a game plan to force it into his mouth so he’ll get better, because he downright refuses to let it get close to him. Sneaking it into his food is also a no-go since he can smell it. So have fun wrestling a lion to get him to take his meds. Thankfully he’s weaker than normal so it’s a lot easier than you’d think.

Leona is picky when it comes to what he’s eating while sick. He’s going to be wanting something with a lot of meat in it in order to get some of his energy back. A good meat stew is your best bet, and you’ll have to cut the vegetables to be so fine he can’t pick them out. He needs them, he knows this, but they’re still gross and he hates that you’d serve him a dish with it in there.

The moment Leona is better he’s shooing you away. He no longer needs you and therefore you can get out of his dorm. Wait…you want him to thank you? Please, you were simply repaying a debt that you owed him. He’ll thank you if that’s what it takes for you to get out of his fur. He might even lean his head on yours while he says it before ushering you towards the door so he can be left alone and sulk about how weak he was in front of someone. His ego is gonna be needing some recovery after the Ramshackle prefect won a wrestling match and forced him to take medicine.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie is another person who normally will just suffer in silence when he’s sick. Everyone in the dorm realizes that he’s ill and stays far away so they don’t catch it, so it’s easier than you’d think. He just isolates himself as he gets better, occasionally managing to drag himself out of bed in order to grab a drink or use the restroom. Making food was out of the question though, so he just accepts the fact that his stomach is going to be growling until he’s better.

Literally the moment you hear that Ruggie is sick, you should be going to help. The poor boy is probably in the fetal position on his bed, hating life right now. His fever will be so high he doesn’t even know what’s going on around him since he’s absolute dog shit at taking care of himself. He’s normally the one who takes care of others so when he’s sick he just hopes for the best. Thankfully there won’t be much arguing when you begin helping him. Again, his fever is so high he might think you’re a hallucination.

Ruggie will take medication no problem for the most part, mainly because he’s not even going to know what you’re handing him until it’s already in his mouth. He is going to be complaining about the foul taste and asking for some water afterwards, but at least he didn’t spit it right out. He might comment that you betrayed his trust by giving him something gross, but he’ll forget about it in ten minutes if the fever has anything to say about it.

He is going to devour anything you bring him. Honestly he probably hasn’t eaten anything all day, or since he got sick, so he’s starving. He probably won’t be tasting anything either, just happy to have something in his stomach. He might get a bit teary eyed as he thanks you for the food. It doesn’t matter if you made it or bought something at Sam’s to microwave, food is food and he’s been wanting some for a while now.

Ruggie will be suspicious for a while after he’s better, wondering what the ulterior motive for helping him out was. He’s not used to people just taking care of him because they care. Clearly you’re after something…right? He’s broke, so you can’t have his money. Reassuring him that he doesn’t owe you anything won’t help the situation; even if he adores you he simply doesn’t believe you’d put yourself through that for no reason. Just tell him he can help you next time you’re sick and you can call it even.

Jack Howl

Jack honestly doesn’t get sick all too often; he takes care of himself and works out, so his immune system is something to be admired. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t get sick, and when it does it hits him harder than most. He normally self-isolates so he can get better. He’ll drag himself out to get food and take care of himself since he knows it’s important, but he’s going to be pushing his limits by doing these simple tasks.

Originally he’s going to try and push you away the moment you offer, worried that he might end up getting you sick. Once you reassure him that you’ll be fine, he gives in. He’s too weak to put up much of an argument anyway, so might as well just roll with the punches. He’s going to try and make things as easy as possible for you and not ask for much; he’ll mainly be asleep for most of it.

Thankfully Jack has no issues with taking medication. In fact, he doesn’t even see them as being disgusting. He’s taken green shots pre-workout before and those are nasty. He’ll down any medication you give him and you’ll have his full trust to not poison him. The main thing is the smell, if it’s too artificial smelling he’s going to be hating the scent of it.

He’s not picky when sick, in fact he can barely taste anything you bring him. As long as it’s healthy he’ll be satisfied. He’ll be asking if you want to sit down and eat with him, feeling awkward if you just stare at him. Meals shared together taste better anyway, so might as well do it. Besides, if you see his tail wagging behind him when you accept the suggestion, you’ll know he’s well on his way to getting better.

He’ll be following you around like a lost puppy once he’s all better. He’s thankful for what you did and feels bad for the trouble he’s caused, so he’s going to make sure nothing troubles you for a while. Expect him to open doors for you and carry your books. Just let him do it, it’s his own way of thanking you for spending those few days while he felt dead.

[the---hermit]

04|10|2023

I feel like my body is slowly rebelling against me. My sleeping is going even worse than in the past few day, and this morning when I woke up my throat felt even more sore than yesterday. I have been taking medications, hot herbal teas with lots of honey and the amazing balsamic drops my mom got me, and I hope everything together will make things better soon. I have lots to do the rest of the week and I would like to feel energized instead of feeling miserable. Of course since I am not sleeping well at all and my energies are quite low focusing on studying is a struggle. I still managed to finish my first read (of many) of Richard II, but today I heavily relied on the translation because my brain was not braining as it should have. Still I have a good base idea of how the play is structured so I should hopefully have an easier time during my lectures tomorrow and on Friday. I will now watch The Hollow Crown to see in action what I just read, and then I'll just put on some music and try to rest.

cozy hobbit autumn activities and productivity:

read first thing in the morning

daily practice of Irish on duolingo in the morning (I feel like I am way more productivie and focused when I do this in the mornings, so I am making an effort to squeeze it into my morning routine)

drank a huge amount of herbal teas, made with my own herbs for the most and with lots of honey to help my throat

worked on a whole lecture of my power practices and men theories class

finished my first read of Richard II

listened to today's episode of re:dracula

put off all the tasks I was too tired to do, and no I don't feel guilty about it

📖:The Book Of Lost Things by John Connolly, Richard II by William Shakespeare

[tofutofudahyun]

𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐄𝐘

< park seonghwa x any! reader >

warnings: very sad angst, suic!de

you didn’t think joining the special forces would have any consequences. after all, there’s never been a mission that was this important that they had to call you in. you lived your days in happiness with seonghwa, nothing could go wrong…

You and Seonghwa were laying in bed when you got the call. You were playing with his hair as he laid on your chest, something you’ve done since you dated, and something you’ve continued to do after you got married. It made you happy to provide comfort for him, and he knew that. It was past midnight, but that was okay. You and your husband were late sleepers, so you answered it without a problem. At least, it wasn’t a problem until you found out you were being sent on an assignment all the way across the world, in some desert. You look over at Seonghwa, who was already sitting up in concern.

“I have to go, my dear.” You tell him after the call was ended, and he nodded. “I know, star. I’ll be here waiting for you to get back.” He kissed your forehead, letting the kiss linger. Neither of you knew how long you’d be gone this time, it was your first assignment since you got married. In previous times, you’ve been gone for months on end.

He helped you pack your bag, and even ate a snack with you before the blacked out truck pulled into your driveway. With one last kiss, and one last ‘I love you’, you left out the door, and he stood on the porch, watching the car disappear into the nighttime darkness. When he went inside, the house felt strangely empty and cold.

That was a month ago. And the mission couldn’t have gone more wrong. You’ve had minimal contact with anyone, per agency rules. You had no idea what was going on back home, especially with the love of your life. You were held hostage, chained in a dark basement with no windows. You had no concept of time, your captors leaving in even shifts so you never knew whether it was day or not. No matter how much they tortured you, you never gave up. Your will was strong, keeping hope that someone, anyone would come save you.

Today, whatever day or time it might’ve been, felt different. You felt this strange feeling in your stomach, as if the world as you knew it was ending. And that’s when you saw two men come into your cell, one of them carrying an assault rifle. “It’s time for you to die, girl.” He spoke, his voice gruff. Your stomach dropped and your heart began racing, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You had so much you wanted to do.

And yet, you showed no fear. You lifted your head, and with the last amount of energy you had in your body, you mustered the strength to spit at his feet. 𝘖𝘩, 𝘚𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢, 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. Those were your last thoughts as you heard the shot rang out, and then, nothing.

Meanwhile, back at home, Seonghwa continued to live. He had confidence in you, he had 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩 that you were coming home to him soon. So, he didn’t worry too much, and he kept the house organized like normal. And everyday for three months, he repeated the cycle. His days blended together, but the longer you were gone, the more worried he became. He contacted your agency, asking for a time that they expected you home. They gave him no answer, keeping the conversation brief.

The fourth month, he stopped sleeping. He couldn’t sleep comfortably without you by his side any longer. This was your longest mission that he remembered, and he wasn’t used to not having you home for this long. He tried many different sleep remedies, from melatonin and herbal tea to self induced hypnosis. None of the methods worked better than you. He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair had grown into a long mullet that rested against his neck. His coworkers became concerned, but they knew what you did for work and didn’t question him on it.

The fifth month, his appetite disappeared completely. He couldn’t eat without you, he couldn’t complete a meal without you. Every time he looked in the mirror, he got skinnier and skinnier. His skin paled, and after a while, he stopped checking. He shattered the mirrors in the home, hating how he looked. He wondered how you’d react if he found out he wasn’t taking care of himself. He felt ashamed of his appearance, how empty he became without you. He wanted you to come home soon, but he didn’t rush you. He knew how sensitive your work was, and he believed you’d come home soon.

Before the fifth month ended, black cars pulled into his driveway. He ran to the door, thinking you’d come home finally. After 𝘢𝘭𝘭 this time, you were finally home, you came home to him. But once he saw all the special agents get out, and he didn’t see you, he thought the worst. He saw the videos, you explained what happened when agents came to your home without you.

They sat him down in the living room, explained how greatly you performed. How you were such an asset to the agency, and how you were the best. How lucky the country was to have such a talented agent protecting them. But, the words fell on deaf ears. He felt like he was drowning, his chest was tight and there was a ringing in his ears.

“Agent Park Y/N is dead. I’m so sorry.” An agent spoke, and he felt sick. “Our agency is willing to cover the cost of anything you may need, and we have arranged the funds to plan their funeral, whenever you’re ready.” They continued, but he shook his head. “Get out. Get the hell out!” He screamed, standing up and throwing the side table down, shattering the glass.

The agents nodded and filed out of the home. Seonghwa went on a rampage, throwing everything in his reach. The vases you picked together were thrown against the wall, framed pictures of you both with friends and family were destroyed. Tears streamed down his face as he sobbed, blending in with the mess around him.

After a while, his tears slowed, and he managed to pull himself up to go to your bedroom. He opened the closet and pulled out a box. You had prepared him for this moment, although you both hoped and prayed it would never come. Inside the box were a few of your mementos, as well as a letter. You left a kiss on the outside with his favorite fragrance, it was a pinkish nude colored bottle and it smelled rice milk, peaches, and clean soap. The same one you wore to your first date, and on your wedding day, and he loved it. He bought bottles every time you ran out.

He opened the letter, and out fell pictures you captured. Some without his knowledge. A picture of your first Valentine’s Day together, a picture of him you captured while he read, which he didn’t know you took. So many pictures of each other on your wedding day, all in selfie form. And finally, a more recent picture from your five year anniversary, one you guys had taken by a random stranger in Bali. More tears fell from his sunken eyes, but he pulled himself together to read the contents of the letter.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘚𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢,

𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘖𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘯. 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰. 𝘙𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘱. 𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩. 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘐'𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐'𝘥 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘈𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯. 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦. 𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦. 𝘚𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘺. 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘠/𝘕.

𝘗.𝘚, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘤𝘩𝘪. 𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶!

He finished the letter, running his fingers delicately over the dried out tear drops you left. His began dripping onto the paper, and he hugged it against his chest tightly, letting out loud cries as he finally realized it was happening.

He staggered to the kitchen, clutching your letter tightly in his fist. He dug through the cabinets, looking for something. He had this planned for a while, ever since he found out you could be killed in your line of work. He couldn’t accept that you were gone.

He opened the jug of cyanide and began chugging. It was disgusting, and his body immediately tried to reject it. He choked on it, but kept his hand over his mouth. Minutes passed and the onset of symptoms began. The dizziness, the vomiting, full of his blood, the shortness of breath. Then, he finally fell against the floor. With what little consciousness he had, he held the letter to his nose and inhaled. The scent of you brought him a bit of comfort as he passed out. And eventually, death overcame him too.

It was dark, he was surrounded by darkness. He wasn’t used to it, he couldn’t see anything in front of him. Was this the afterlife? Was he really dead?

“What are you doing here?” He heard your voice, and he turned until he found your frame, illuminating a white light. You were wearing a similar outfit that you went on a date in. A sweater, some jeans, and white socks. He ran over and engulfed you in a hug. “Oh star, I couldn’t be without you.” He cried into your shoulder, and you were stunned. You slowly lifted your arms to hug him, you couldn’t believe he was there.

You clenched the fabric of his top tightly, pulling him in close. “But if you’re here, that means that…Oh, my love.” You realize the lengths he had gone through to be with you again, and it bought tears to your eyes. You were both still, embracing each other, never thinking you’d see each other again so soon.

“I missed you.” He whispered, and you nod. “I missed you most. Are you ready?” You asked him, and he took your hand, and you both disappeared into the light.

[minmaxi]

this fic idea has been sitting in my google docs for a couple of months. I'm not great at finishing projects and I'm usually more for something resembling poetry than a story, but I'm posting this as much for me as for a friend who said he's interested to see what I have cooking 😊 (thank you for the encouragement!) and, since I haven't gone to sleep yet, I think we can still call this

FUCK IT FRIDAY

I haven't settled on a title yet, so let's just call this one "the q-word fic," shall we?

———

Buck’s been thinking. Dangerous, he can practically hear someone say; but it's been quite a week, he’s allowed. With Chris back from Texas last week and Bobby finally back in the captain’s chair today, he’s practically basking in the serenity of things going back to how they should be. There's only this 24-hour shift standing between him and 48 hours off, and outside of vague ideas of spending some time with his reunited Diaz boys, he's still not entirely sure what he'll be doing after the shift wraps up in about… 19 more hours, according to his watch? He could swear it's already been 8.

The rigs are all stocked, the supply closet is organized, and he's long given up on finding the clipboard that must've grown legs somewhere between the engine and the ladder truck. Buck's been curled up near the TV, keeping himself occupied with an old YA novel that he's been rereading before he gifts it to Chris. The rest of the team is caught up on their own assignments, too, so anyone else who's not trying to bank some sleep or work out has also gravitated to the loft to settle in.

Adjusting in place, he realizes if he doesn’t move soon that his leg will only get stiffer, and right now’s as good a time as any for some tea, anyway. Setting the book down, brushing his fingers against the dalmatian statue as he stretches up out of the armchair, his mind turns from the new herbal blend in the cabinet back to the present evening.

So far, it's been a qui—

Buck freezes in place.

It's been a while since the last time anyone used The Q-Word in the firehouse, and if for no other reason than some kind of reflex, he won't even let himself think it. That word has bitten him everywhere, every time—from this very station, to a bar in Peru, all the way back to a ranch in Montana—to say nothing of the stories Hen and Chimney have recounted. Even Bobby takes it seriously, even if he thinks it's mostly psychosomatic.

Thankfully, he muses, Ravi learned his lesson from the last mishap—newer probies have been warned since—and everyone else on the A-shift knows better than to invite chaos with such reckless abandon.

"Heeeey, is it my imagination or does tonight seem like it's been nice and–”

Almost everyone.

All eyes turn to Eddie, elbows perched on the counter, hovering over a cup of coffee.

"–relaxed so far?" he smirks, looking up knowingly.

———

p.s. how does no pressure tagging work. I might be overthinking it. please drop in my asks or dms about this. 💜

[skzftw]

Levi's Jeans and Boxershorts

🔞🔞🔞Warning: one-sided thirst, sexual embarrassment, bad Felix, bully on the bed, sex partners, reader x felix

Word count: 1039

Part 2

Oh, today is a hot day. You are alone in the house watching old recorded football videos. You have been registering for a part-time job lately but doubt that you will get any. The place that you sit in is so hot you could faint.

Then a ringtone wakes you up. Felix calls you.

"Oh no" you murmur. "Hello?"

"Hey, are you coming tonight? Or better, this afternoon?" Felix asks all of these questions with a chill voice.

He has been your plus one partner ever since last summer. It means it is almost a year anniversary. Nevertheless you have feelings for him but that he always rejected. Both know that you are the only one in an one-sided love.

"O-ok..." The call ends like this.

You sigh as you throw your bag and everything before closing the bag without knowing what thin clothes you throw in.

"It's going to be a long night."

Your bag is folded over one of your shoulder as you go to grab a subway to Myeongdong. Where Felix lives is minimalistic and manly. Everytime you are inside it smells like nothing. People in the subway look at you jugdgementally because you have not changed your thin grey home-stay clothes. You flush and try to hide the clothes.

Ten to twenty minutes later you come to his house as you need to knock or ring the bell first. You do both. Right after, the door clinch open as you see a blonde haired Felix smiling at you. You cannot hide the attraction towards him.

"Hi. So let's watch Netflix," he suggested straightforwardly and stroke your naked arms a little bit.

"How about fast and furious?" You ask loudly. Not because of confidence.

Felix already jumps on the couch and grabs his self-made popcorn to himself. "I dunno."

You go into the bedroom that smells like herbal relaxation of a grannie just to put down the bag. You stumble to the couch to sit beside Felix. He immediately pulls you over and search something on Netflix. The curtain is still open.

"Uhm, don't we want to close the curtain?" You ask and almost go away from his embrace.

"Nah."

You look at him to confirm that he is serious. Then you glide down to match his hug.

Felix is just quiet and eats popcorn. That without sharing any with you. "Fast and Furious sounds good, let's watch it."

"Ok," you whisper.

30 minute into the movie and you are about to faint. The sound of cars are making you nervous.

"I want you to drive cars like this, Felix," you flirt with him.

Felix immediately stops eating popcorn just to laugh at your remark. "What ifs..."

He does not reply to the sentence of yours and pushes popcorn into your mouth. His fingers were long they almost hit inside your mouth. You try hard to bite back into his skin.

"Ouch!" He groans.

The sound from the television that you both watch growls still. You get so thirsty over Felix so that your hand goes to his pants.

"Let me guess," Felix starts and left you shook ", a popcorn fell down."

"No, popcorn is with you," you answer as Felix watches your hand glides over his pants. "We have a bigger problem, though."

"Where?"

You clip his pants open without getting any remarks and now your hand glides over his boxer shorts. Felix laughs at you.

It smells like a man when you drop down to his penis as it grows bigger under your nose. You hate that he leave you in a second-hand embarrassment.

Tongue on his clothed genitals, you ask for allowance by pushing it. He leaves only a slight 'mmh' and even brushes your hair so hard it becomes strains.

With both of your hands you help him to throw away his Levi's jeans and boxershorts.

"It's so big," you said to him.

"Not so big as your brain."

You do a blow job on him and he groans alone on the coach. His both hands stuck on your shoulders and it clips very hardly. You can barely escape.

"That's enough," he insults your action.

Felix turns off the television and gets stuck into your blowjob. "Ouch!"

You stop your action and strip off your t-shirt. "I'm sorry."

Felix gets back to the couch and pulls you in between. He then kisses you until you open your mouth.

"That hurts" he remarks with trying to act angry.

"I said I'm sorry--"

He kisses you back and clicks your bras open. "There is no apology for this," he whispers during kissing.

You curse 'shit' as his penis is still revealed after you have opened his pants.

Felix grinds into you so you have no escape. Your heart pounds hard because you have a crush on him. Your eyes fall into his sculpted nose and all. He grinds his pants into you to ask for permission. You nod to it.

"Super" Felix agrees and lift you up as your scream to the bedroom. He throws you on the bed while the light was dimmed.

He strips you naked first then he throw away his shirt to show his abs. You flush because you are the only one naked on the bed. Felix grabs a condom to protect you both.

"Thank you," you moan.

Felix does not undress his Levi's as he fingers your pussy. Then he suddenly stops. "Oh sorry, I have not washed my hands."

"I-it's okay"

"I know, idiot."

He finishes to finger you and grab his genital to glide it in. He pounds hard into your pussy. It has been 5 minutes as he is pounding. You cannot witness it as you almost faint at his attraction.

"It's good?" Your plus one partner asks.

"Yes," You are about to cum but Felix rejects all communication canal.

"I love you," Felix moans into the sex.

"I love you too," you answer without any energy.

You both cum together quietly. Felix finally takes off his pants as it had been hurting you during the sex.

He falls beside you on the bed and kisses your cheek.

"I'm sorry" he said.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Happy 1 year anniversary, sex partner," he ends with a tease.

A/N: Let me know if you want more.

Part 2

[discountdemonwarehouse]

Kinktober 2024 - Prompt 14 - Tender Sex

Characters: Cardinal Copia and Cardinal Valentino (upcoming Missionary Man sequel)

Contains: M/M, handjobs in the shower

Val has a rough day with pain in his injured leg and Copia tries to make him feel better.

AO3 Link

Keep reading below the cut!

        Val limped into his quarters, leg aching. He’d tried to push through with his usual pain management, but the pain was too bad today and he’d left his office early. To complement his daily prescribed meds, he did have an ointment made by Primo’s group associated with the infirmary, and while it often helped, some days it barely made a dent in the pain. Even the feeling of fabric on skin seemed unbearable at times. He made short work of stripping off his fascia and cassock, dropping them as he went towards the bedroom, biretta tossed without care onto the couch. In the dim light of the bedroom he quickly removed his brace and stripped down, reaching for the jar of ointment and smearing some on. A hiss of air forced between his teeth as he rubbed the herbal ointment into his skin, grimacing at how little relief it provided. He carefully put the brace back on, damaged leg screaming for the support. A small collection of pillows was moved from the end of the bed and positioned just right before Val gingerly lowered himself onto the bed and moved into what he hoped would be a comfortable position. Sighing impatiently, he scrunched his eyes shut, hoping for oblivion.

        Some time later the apartment door opened then closed. Fabric rustled, then footsteps came across the floor to the bedroom. “Caro?” Copia called softly before his eyes adjusted to the dark, and he saw Val. “Oh, caro.” He hung the cassock and fascia on the back of the door, then moved to the side of the bed. “I know you’re awake – even on your worst days your face relaxes more than that if you’re asleep.” “I wish I was asleep,” Val grumbled. “Or dead. Leave the lights off.” “Certo.” More fabric noises filled the room as Copia removed his own fascia and cassock. The two didn’t officially live together yet, but spent most nights together in one apartment or the other – though usually in Val’s because of the mobility aids too often needed, and the fact he actually had a door. Oh so carefully, Copia sat on the edge of the bed beside his lover. “Do you want me to massage your leg?” “No.” “That bad today, eh?” Val grunted. Copia sighed. Val gestured with one hand, indicating Copia could join him. He might not want a lot of things, but he would take closeness from his partner.

        Copia gently settled beside him, mindful of his bad leg, and rested his head on Val’s chest. “Has it been bad all day or did it flare up? You didn’t trip or anything, did you?” “It’s been extra sore all day, but really flared up after lunch. I left early.” “I noticed.” Copia pressed a kiss to Val’s chest. “I know I always ask, but can I do anything to help?” “Kill me,” Val half-teased. “But no, just be here.” “Alright.” As the two lay there, Val could feel some relief starting to spread in his leg. His arm slipped around Copia, holding him close. Copia’s hands wandered in a gentle caress, loath to be still. “You know, I could maybe help with the pain relief,” Copia offered slyly. “What are you talking about?” “Well, I could, eh, help you with a little dopamine hit.” Copia smirked in the dim light. His fingers walked down Val’s torso, and Val realized what he meant, a small shiver running through him. “Copia…!” The fingers stopped moving, one sticking up as if frozen in step. “Is that a ‘no’?” Val paused for a moment. “No, no, it’s not a ‘no.’ Just be gentle.” “But of course, caro. Just tell me if I need to stop.”

        Copia kissed Val’s chest again as his hand made its descent to Val’s thighs, stroking gently, teasing lightly along his skin. Val sighed a little; Copia’s leather gloves were his weakness. Copia mostly avoided Val’s bad leg with his touching, focusing on his right leg instead. The leather-clad fingers trailed back up to Val’s abdomen, following the trail of hair. Val’s breathing had quickened, but not from pain. Copia continued his teasing, not yet touching Val’s cock, and turned his head slightly to work on leaving a hickey on his collarbone. Val shifted under Copia’s teasing, trying to find more contact without moving his leg too much. “Copia, please…” “Hm? Oh, right. I shouldn’t tease you too much or you’ll hurt your leg in your squirming.” Copia sat up suddenly, removing his hands from Val’s body. “What are you doing?” Val asked quietly. “I have an idea. Hang on. Relax for a little longer,” Copia murmured, kissing Val softly. Val kissed back, but relaxed as instructed as Copia left the room.

        He could hear the sound of things scraping in the shower from the next room, and knew Copia was getting his shower stool set up for him. He smiled to himself as he thought about how Copia cared for him, how tender he was if he knew Val was having a pain day. Val wasn’t always reciprocative to Copia’s advances due to his leg injury, and lower libido, and Copia always took it in stride – fussing over him, making sure he was taking his medications and resting, or taking charge in the bedroom. Typically reserved during love making, Val became more vocal during sex when he was having a higher pain day, which he found somewhat embarrassing, but Copia loved it and didn’t shame him for it. The sound of running water reached Val’s ears, and he sighed a little. Sometimes the heat helped, and thankfully with the resting he’d done so far and the ointment, his leg pain had calmed a little. Copia reappeared in the doorway a moment later. “Come on, caro, let’s get you into the shower,” Copia murmured, helping Val sit up on the edge of the bed.

        Gently, Copia led Val into the bathroom and helped settle him on the seat. A decent amount of steam filled the space, and the air was already warm thanks to the water already running. Val’s eyes closed as the water hit him, the heat helping his leg almost immediately. “How’s the positioning? Do I need to adjust the showerhead or temperature?” “No, it’s perfect. You know everything so well, amore.” “It’s my job as your partner,” Copia informed him sweetly, kissing his cheek. “Now sit there and enjoy.” “Sì, Cardinale,” Val muttered back, lovingly playful. Copia busied himself behind Val in the shower space, lathering up a washcloth with a bar of soap. Copia took the attached shower wand and carefully sprayed Val’s torso and back so he could soap him up. He started with Val’s back, scrubbing and massaging gently, feeling tension leaving Val. A soft sigh left Val and Copia smiled to himself; his idea was working.

        His hands slipped around to the front of Val’s body, and he again began the gentle routine, while also starting to kiss his neck. Val’s head turned and Copia brushed his lips across Val’s. The two continued kissing, each one getting a little more passionate, while Copia’s hands still caressed Val’s soapy torso. “I love you so much,” Val whispered. “And I you, caro,” Copia responded, nuzzling his neck. Val gasped softly as Copia’s hand slid around his cock, stroking it and cupping his balls. Val pressed his cheek against Copia’s, staying still to let him work his magic. It didn’t take long for Copia to have Val fully erect, his heavy breathing and small moans louder in the shower’s tiled space. Val’s hand had found Copia’s cock and was slowly working him into hardness as well. “This was supposed to be me making you feel better,” Copia whispered amusedly in Val’s ear. “Maybe returning the favour makes me feel good too,” Val murmured back. Copia hummed appreciatively in response, pressing more kisses to Val’s neck and shoulder.

        Both men were soon moaning softly from the other’s touch, both knowing exactly how the other loved to be handled. Copia’s hips thrust lightly into Val’s hold, fucking himself against his hand. Val was quivering from Copia’s stroking, his free hand holding the shower bar to keep from sliding off the shower seat. The combination of everything soon had Val on the brink of orgasm. “Copia…” he groaned. “Cum for me, amore,” Copia whispered, kissing him and squeezing just a little firmer on Val’s cock, hitting the perfect spots just so. A few more strokes and Val moaned into Copia’s mouth as he came, Copia still gently stroking him until he was done. Copia’s other hand closed over Val’s on his cock, urging his partner to stroke him faster and grip harder until he came with a cry against Val’s shoulder. They leaned into each other, breathing heavily in the afterglow of their orgasms. “Good thing we were in the shower, eh?” Copia joked, still panting a little. “Easy clean up is always a bonus,” Val replied wryly, reaching for the nearby shower wand. “How is your leg? Ready to go lay down again?” Copia asked after they were both rinsed off. Val nodded, and Copia turned off the water and helped Val onto the bathmat to dry. The two then moved back to the bed, and settled down together.

        Val woke sometime later, alone on the bed, haphazardly covered in a soft blanket. His leg was more manageable now, most of the pain gone. He looked over as he heard a metallic thud, seeing Copia sitting at the small table in Val’s quarters. “Is that a gun?” he asked, leaning up to see better. “Oh, you’re awake, caro!” Copia said, startled. “Uhh… Sì, è una pistola.” “And why exactly isn’t it at the gun range? You remember our rules.” “It’s, uh… It’s a, uh, new one… I need to inspect and clean it first,” Copia mumbled quietly. “Aha! I knew it! You broke our agreement! That means I get a new fossil!”

        “Amore, no, it’s a business purchase!” Copia argued back lamely. “Bullshit! Get me my laptop! Where’s my phone?! I already have shit loaded in my cart because I knew this day would come!” Val sat up, head turning to find his electronics. “Caro,” Copia whined, “We already have so many fossils. And you won’t cover the t-rex replica when we have sex…” “No, Copia. We had an agreement!” Val was opening his laptop, knowing exactly which fossil he was going to order. “Caro…” Copia whined. Val glared playfully at him. “Keep that up and I’ll put it on your credit card!”

[scotianostra]

On November 8th 1576 Elizabeth Bessie Dunlop was found guilty of Witchcraft and sentenced to be burnt at the stake.

Today, she would have been seen as a wise woman, a psychic or a medium. But when Bessie Dunlop went on trial in Edinburgh in 1576, she was quickly branded “The Witch of Dalry”, tortured, then burned at the stake.

For years, she had been helping locals with potions, predictions and cures for cattle. But she was an early victim of the Scottish witch purges, when the saying: “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live” was taken literally.

Records of Bessie’s trial survived through the centuries and, perhaps because of that, she remains one of Scotland’s most famous “witches”. Plays and books have been written about her over the years.

Most recent accounts portray Bessie as a woman who helped locals and their livestock with herbal cures. She also claimed to possess “second sight” – and talked to spirits and “fairies”.

Under torture, most witches would admit to almost anything – from consorting with the Devil, putting curses on locals or even killing children. Not Bessie.

Instead, she claimed merely to have met with a spirit guide, who introduced her to the fairy folk, who resided in Cleeves Cove – the secluded caves just a mile and a half from Dalry.

In her confession, she claimed that while taking her cow to a field, she came across an elderly man with a grey beard.

He claimed to be the spirit of Thomas Reid, a former Baron Officer to John Blair of Dalry, who had been killed at the battle of Pinkie in 1547.

At the time Bessie was stressed with worry, her child, husband and cow were ill, and it seemed that they would not recover. The old man comforted her and predicted that her cow and child would die, but her husband would make a full recovery. He then disappeared down a hole in a dyke that was to be much too small to let any mortal man pass by it.

On their next meeting, the strange apparition offered her material goods in the form of horses and cows if she would denounce Christianity. She refused and said that she would rather be whipped. The angry spirit disappeared.

On his return, he introduced her to the ‘fairies’. Swearing secrecy, he introduced her to four men and eight women of Elfame, another name for the fairy realm. They were dressed as humans but very smartly, the men like gentlemen, and the women had ‘all plaids about them’. They were very friendly towards Bessie but when she refused to go with them ,they left with a “hideous ugly blast of wind” leaving Bessie lying sick on the ground.

She claimed her spirit mentor taught her how to cure cattle and children. People came to her for advice on a regular basis and her reputation was beginning to spread. She was allegedly even able to tell people the location of missing items.

And it wasn’t just the poor folk of the town who consulted her.

Lady Johnstone sent a servant to consult her regarding the sickness of her daughter. Bessie in turn consulted Thomas. “Her sickness,” he is recorded as having told her, “is due to cauld blood that went about her heart, that caused her to pine away. Therefore, let her take equal parts of cloves, ginger, annis-seed, and liquorice, and mix them together in ale; seethe them together; strain the mixture; put it in a vessel, then take a little quantity of it in a mutchkin can, with some white sugar cast among it; take and drink thereof each day in the morning; walk a while after, before meat, and she would soon be better.” Bessie was also consulted by Lady Blackhall and received as payment a peck of meal and some cheese. Lady Thirdpart, in the barony of Renfrew, sent to her to discover who had stolen some coins out of her purse – Bessie named the culprit.

She was also consulted by the daughter of William Blair of Strand, who was to be married to the Laird Crawford of Baidland. Thomas, speaking through Bessie, suggested that if she were to marry him she would come to an untimely demise by her own hand. The wedding plans were dropped and the laird finally married the woman’s sister.

Thomas also allegedly predicted that Bessie would face trial for her dealings with the spirit world, but her neighbours would save her from evil. Sadly for Bessie, that prediction failed to come true.

The crime of which she was accused was “sorcery, witchcraft, and incantation, with invocation of spirits of the devil, continuing in familiarity with them at all such times as she thought expedient, dealing with charms, and abusing the people with devilish craft of sorcery aforesaid”.

Bessie is believed to have been burned to death on Edinburgh’s Castle Hill.

An alternative legend claims she was brought back to Ayrshire and burned at Corsehillmuir, Kilwinning. The court records fail to describe her final fate.

An ongoing campaign goes on in Scotland to have all those who were killed after a witchcraft conviction, tro be pardoned.

[spinnerprincess]

"Goal-setting" (Hyrule Warriors x Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds, Lana/Hilda, 2,072 words)

Femslash February prompt for 2/26: Kids

Set sometime after Triangulation. Specifically, actually, uh, sometime after the sequel to it that I have half-written. Oops. So, minor spoilers for a work that I haven't published? Sorry.

Hilda doesn't know what to do with children.

Lorule's population has been in such decline that the castle has seen none of them since she was herself young. Hers was a lonely childhood, with all the adults around her expecting that she could fix their world, anticipating that she would amount to nothing. She was the lingering leech of a royal line, the daughter to a king who abandoned his throne, the heir to a legacy that destroyed the very Triforce that had sustained them.

She certainly never had other playmates. Without Ravio, rich in mischief and willing to speak candidly with one he was told was his better, she might never have had friends.

So, children? She's never had the opportunity to really get to know them.

They're small and loud, she's finding. They know too little about the world in many ways, and in other ways, far too much. They're rather impulsive and decidedly blunt.

They have told her, to her face, that she's stinky.

"I bathed only last night," Hilda says, frowning. She uses a lovely herbal soap in her baths, and a hint of perfume some mornings. She didn't think it was necessary today.

"Stinky princess!" says the child, giggling. His name is Krif, and he's a tiny navy-haired Lorulean, born to a soldier that used to patrol the Dark Palace. Another child is on the way, there is no father in the picture, and Hilda is overseeing their move to a new town, if one can call a smattering of families in tiny, newly built houses a town. Long ago, Lorule Castle used to be home to far more than just the royal family, with a bustling, mercantile community living just inside the outer walls.

"Princess Stink," agrees the other child. Her name is Taura, which is a sensible name for a child of mask-wearers, bearing herself the tiny visage of a bull. Her family has also sought refuge at the castle. Hilda has been told that she and Krif made fast friends in the last day or so.

"Is stink my domain, or are you saying I smell?" Hilda asks, entirely at a loss.

Krif wrinkles his entire face in thought. "Both?" Taura cackles.

Lana, observing, also giggles at her plight. Hilda, at a glance, sees that none of her guard is looking this way, so she can afford to drop some of her regal bearing. Grimacing, she mouths, "Help!" in Lana's direction.

Rolling her eyes, Lana hops over. "Your parents will be back in, what, fifteen minutes?" she says to the children.

"Probably much longer than that," Taura says, bearing an approximation of wisdom. "I heard father complaining about paperwork."

"Paperwork," Krif says, puzzled and frowning.

Hilda explains, "That means your parents have many things they need to write down, in order to accomplish something properly."

"I'm not sure my papa knows how to write," Taura adds thoughtfully.

"Castle scribes will help them," Hilda explains further, but even as she's saying it she can tell she's losing Krif's interest. And the moment she loses his interest, she risks being called stinky again. Quietly, she panics.

Thankfully, Lana picks up the thread again. "Well… Want to see how many weird magic tricks I can pull off until they get back?"

"You know magic?" Krif asks, delighted. Taura seems curious too, tilting her head.

"Do I know magic?" Lana asks, scoffing. She snaps her grimoire off her hip and blows on it. Golden sparkles rise along the path of her breath, flowing directly into Krif's face. Krif laughs loudly, waving the sparkles out of his face. Some of them fly upon Lana's pale blue hair and pop like bubbles as they disappear.

Taura seems less impressed, but she's still amused. She crosses her little arms. "That's neat, but it's just a light trick. What about real magic?"

"Real magic?" Lana taps her finger against her chin in exaggerated thought. "Like what?"

"Show us something really cool. Not just sparkles." She says 'sparkles' with such scorn, for some reason.

"Well, aren't you worldly?" Lana nods, and after a moment, grins. "Fine: one quick dose of real magic, just for you, Taura."

Hilda glances at her with just a hint of worry, only hoping Lana won't go overboard.

Lana smiles at her briefly in reassurance. Then she lifts her grimoire again, chanting, drawing just a small little circle in the air, just about at Taura's eye level. It's only big enough for perhaps Lana's hand to slip through.

When it's complete, Hilda blinks in surprise. Lana has created, unmistakably, a gate to another dimension - though of course nobody will be slipping through this one.

"Be quiet, and look," murmurs Lana. Taura eyes her warily, and steps up to the little gate, peering inside.

Lana's gates are often double-sided. Hilda quietly shuffles around to Lana's side, so she can see a hint of it for herself.

She sees… a castle town. It's beautiful, and familiar, and she's never seen it before. There are thriving green bushes. Tulips grow in flower beds along a well-maintained cobbled street. A pair of large, beautiful trees frame the entrance to the castle proper. People walk to and fro, busy with their days.

"What is this?" Taura asks, wonderous.

Krif, over her shoulder, is equally entranced. "It's like a dollhouse?" he says.

"Nope, no dolls. You're looking at something real." Lana smiles, crouching down, glancing between each child. "I think your parents said you're moving, but they didn't really explain, did they?"

Taura doesn't take the implied insult to her parents well. "They said we're moving here, to the castle!"

"Which explains nothing," says Krif, more knowingly. "And there's nothing here, either."

"That's because your parents are very brave," says Lana. "What you're looking at, Krif, Taura, is the result of years of hard work. It's a place called Castle Town, in a castle very like this one, with a princess rather like Princess Hilda."

The children look at Hilda, who smiles and nods. She still has no idea what to say, but the way these children look at her now, with curiosity, is shocking. How has Lana turned them around on this so quickly? These are the same children that decided she was Princess Stink, did they not?

"This is real?" Krif asks, skeptical.

"It is. Go on - put your hand through. There's a tree leaf right above the gate, isn't there? I bet if you reach for it, you can touch it."

"It won't hurt him?" Taura asks, which makes Hilda glad. She's properly wary of Lorulean vegetation.

Hilda smiles. "No, it's a perfectly safe leaf. Don't be scared."

Krif scowls. "I'm not scared," he says firmly. He thrusts his hand through Lana's portal. Shock comes over his face as he touches the leaf, and pulls his hand back. There's a hint of morning dew glistening on his fingertips, which he stares at with awe.

Taura brings her hands up to her chin in an expression of shock, tugging slightly at the bottom of her mask. "It's really real!"

"You did ask for real magic, after Lana showed you her sparkles," Hilda says, smiling to keep the admonishment mild.

Taura bows her head, and when she lifts it, she proves that she's been taught some manners. "I'm sorry, Sorceress. I was kinda rude about your sparkles."

Lana smiles and "Thanks, Taura. No harm done - but I appreciate your apology."

Klif says, "This place is pretty… But this isn't where we're moving to, right?"

"No, but it's my goal to make something like it," says Hilda. "It'll be you two, your mother, Taura's fathers, and a few others there at first, very small. We probably won't have lovely things like flowers and shops for a while. But with some hard work, someday, I think we will."

"And you can help," Lana says, quick to jump in. "After all, this is going to be your home! You can help us in little ways, whether it's building things, helping us figure out what to plan, or cheering people up when they're off work. You're part of this, too."

Taura is very quiet, very thoughtful. Klif outright jumps up and down with delight, saying, "Yeah, I want to help! I want… I want…" He scrunches up his entire face again. "I want a tree like that. With pretty leaves that are safe to touch!"

Hilda laughs. "I'd love that, too. We'll see if we can find an earth-speaker to help you, then."

Klif seems just a little confused before Lana stage-whispers, "They can help you with plant magic!"

It's about then that rescue finally comes. Hearing footsteps, Lana snaps her fingers quietly behind her back, and the gate closes in an instant. She barely has time to shush the children, swearing them to immediate secrecy, before a group of guards, scribes, and parents returns from the office nearby.

"Mom!" Klif runs over to her, full of energy. "Princess Hilda says I can put a tree near our home!"

Taura takes an extra moment to bow to them, her finely braided hair bouncing with her. "Thank you, Sorceress, Your Highness!"

"Our pleasure. We'll see you around, Taura," Lana promises.

The families depart for the time being, following a scribe to their next business. At their departure, Hilda sighs, gratefully sinking into a chair.

"I don't know how you did that," Hilda says. "Those children were going to eat me alive."

Lana laughs, lightly, and comes to her side. She brushes Hilda's hair with one hand, running it down a few runaway strands. "They've heard rumors from adults, or even other children. You know, the old ones, about how ineffective the royalty of Lorule is."

"But they're just children," Hilda argues, frowning. "Why do they care?"

"Well, they don't really understand. Kids their age tend to parrot things they hear, or take on their parents' opinions without really thinking about it. And they do care, in a way - things that upset adults they care for upset them, too, even if they don't know why." Lana continues hand-brushing Hilda's hair. It's an indulgence that relaxes her.

"So calling me Princess Stink is their way of expressing that they know, or thought they knew, that I was a poor sovereign?" Hilda asks. "Is that also why Taura dismissed your magic, come to think of it?"

"Probably, yeah - she might have seen someone else put down another's magic. Though sometimes they're just disrespectful for weird reasons of their own."

"How are you so good with children?" Hilda asks. She looks up at Lana, catching her hand, and gently caressing the slightly lighter skin of her palm.

Lana closes her eyes, smiling. "I don't know, honestly. I guess I've just observed people enough, children included, to figure them out a little. Sometimes you have to put in a little extra work to earn their respect. You certainly had to earn mine, when I was their age: I don't think being a powerful budding sorceress made it very easy on my clan."

It doesn't take Hilda long to imagine the trouble a child with dimension-peeking magic might get into. She laughs. "I imagine not!"

Only the thought is just a little sobering. Perhaps with just a little more oversight, Lana would not have had her soul rend itself in two, would not have fallen as easily into the clutches of evil. But then, had Cia not been created by Ganon's darkness, Lana wouldn't be here now, slotting herself in with the misfits of Lorule, would she?

Hilda rises from her seat to draw Lana closer, kissing her sweetly. "Thank you for your insight, and your assistance," she says, brimming with fondness. "I would have been helpless without you."

Lana's never the best at taking a direct compliment. She hugs Hilda, probably in part to hide her face. "No problem. Those two are just the start. There will be more kids around Castle Town soon, but don't worry - dealing with children is a skill you can learn. You'll pick it up soon enough."

"I'll attend your lessons carefully," promises Hilda.

They have a little free time before the next royal matter to attend to, she thinks. She takes hold of Lana's hand again, and draws her away from the receiving hall. A little stress relief - a little affection, a little time spent in each other's arms behind a closed door - wouldn't be bad, at all.