#I said I didn’t want to add too many tags but here we are? could be worse.

[jester-pip]

wdym.. I totally didn’t give in to the urge to draw humans again…

okay listen it’s because I saw an art style that I liked :P

(I kinda don’t like some of these drawings but 👍)

This might not last long, but I’m not making any promises.

[small edit: I suck at drawing lighters, and I know that :D]

[dumpywrites]

Wanna See My Cat? - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: “Do you wanna see my cat?” You're not actually lying but he thinks it's a sexual innuendo.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, situationship-ish

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

a/n: I was contemplating on whether to actually add smut to this but I decided not to cause it's cuter this way and I think we could all agree there're plenty of bts smut but not enough fluff here! :D

Situationship was a funny concept. Either you commit or not, that was what you believed. Which was why you were not precisely proud to say that you was now in fact in one. 

In your defense it had only been what, three? Four weeks? A month or so? Min Yoongi was this nice guy your acquaintance introduced you to. Gentle, could be hilarious when he wanted to, and cute. Although he could be a little emotionless at times, mostly he was a really sweet guy and you liked him a lot. In your other defense, you did not believe what you had with him could be called as a situationship. It was just what your friends had been teasing you about. 

In the whole time of knowing him, you had been to total of three dates. The first being a casual “are you free for dinner after work?” kinda date, second a movie date, and third being a very chill cafe date. And in your opinion, you enjoyed all of them, you had the greatest of time chatting and spending quality time with him. But your friend kept teasing you otherwise. 

Apparently your dates were considered too boring, too innocent for today’s dating world standard. You had not even had your first kiss yet and one of your friends was already asking about his size. Evidently, wanting to take things slow was a crime nowadays and you were lowkey getting annoyed. 

Today though, your park date was cancelled due to the rain. You kept cursing to yourself at home when you saw Yoongi’s text telling you to do a literal rain check, seeing the thunderstorm. The outfit that you bought especially for the occasion failed to see the outside world. 

As you stood in front of the mirror, seeing the reflection gave you a weird idea. A small Siamese cat walking past your feet, meowing adorably. Your pet cat, Zuko. A cat whose existence wasn’t known by Yoongi yet. The lightbulb above your head lightened up. 

“Do you wanna see my cat?” You sent the text. 

**

Yoongi texted you to let you know that he had arrived at your place. You recalled last time he picked you up it took him around fifteen minutes but this time he only took ten. You wondered what made him arrive a lot quicker. 

You were giddy with excitement and took a screenshot to tell your friend. Instead of being excited and giddy for you, your friend sent a bunch of side-eye emojis. Well, they could be just teasing you but the chat bubble following afterwards had you wondering. 

“Woo! Give me a rating score later!!!” 

You crooked your head in confusion, but there was no time to ponder on your friend’s riddle when Yoongi was already waiting for you to open the front door. 

“Hey.”

That hey definitely did not have to sound that deep and hot. You had to gulped your saliva down upon seeing him in his comfortable clothes. Since when did wearing sweatpants and baggy t-shirt looked so good? And did he just had his hair cut or was it just you? So many questions pilling up in your head. 

You knew it was game over when he went in for a hug. Heavenly was the only words you could use to describe his smell. It was a mixture of his shampoo and his laundry detergent, and his intoxicating smell. It seemed like he didn’t even use any perfume. 

“What should we eat?” You said while smiling giddily. 

“I’m kinda craving some instant ramen?” He looked at you while lifting a shopping bag filled with a few packets of noodles. 

Your eyes beamed. “That sounds really nice actually with the weather and all.” 

“Alright cool.” He nodded. “Let’s cook?”

Yoongi was being extra touchy. You were boiling the water and he would swiftly grab the chopsticks in front of you from behind, making you feel his chest. You fully knew well that he could easily grab the utensils without doing that, but for some reason the demons were working hard at the moment. He even leaned his chin over your shoulder as you were chopping some sausages. At this point he could be doing it on purpose for all you knew. 

He did not stop when you both started to eat. From the smooth wiping your lips from food to feeding you. Who was this person and what had he done to Yoongi you might never know. 

Right after washing the dishes and escaping a few of Yoongi’s teases, you both chilled on the sofa. As you browsed through Netflix, you could sense him scooting closer to you. You could feel his body warmth that automatically made yours grew hotter as well. 

“What are we watching?” He asked with a husky voice. By this point he was hugging your waist and rested his body weight on you. 

“I was thinking some action? You love those right?”

“I do.” 

You paused. Why was the tone of his voice sounded slightly off and why was he looking at you funnily?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He broke into a small smile. “Nothing.”

“Stop or I’ll make you watch Puss in Boots!” You whined. 

And then it hit you. The cat! You were too busy being swayed, head in the clouds, fantasizing, that you forgot why he was initially visiting you in your apartment.

“My cat!” You exclaimed loudly, which made Yoongi jumped and sat back up from his position. 

You missed the look of confusion in Yoongi’s face as you ran quickly to your room to pick up the furball in your bedroom. 

“I can’t believe I forgot about him!” You chuckled with your pet now in your arms. “He doesn’t like roaming around, he mostly sleeps in my room.”

Yoongi just looked at you, quizzically. As if he could not believe his eyes. 

“Meet Zuko!” You smiled, proudly showing your cat. “Zuko, meet Yoongi.” You giggled and shoved the cat to the man’s hands. 

He stared at the cat blankly for a good few seconds before gently petting the creature’s head. 

“Uh, hi.” He said, sounding lightly awkward. “He’s actually really cute.”

“I know right!” You grinned. “Do you wanna hold him?”

“Sure.” He said, sounding a little unsure. 

The man sat down with your cat on his lap, slowly stroking the soft white fur of its tiny body. You bent down, sat on the carpet on his knee level to pet the cat. Somehow seeing you smile lovingly at the cat made Yoongi’s lips curled into a soft smile as well. 

“You’re adorable.” Yoongi said. 

“He’s the cutest cat, I know.”

“No, I mean you.” 

“Oh.” You shyly looked away, hoping the nervous giggles did not give it away. “Thank you.” 

Yoongi chuckled and huffed a sigh. “I can’t believe there’s actually a cat.”

“Huh?” You crooked your head to the side, wondering what the guy meant by that. “Of course there is? What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He laughed. “You don’t know?”

“Uh, no?” 

He ruffled your hair and laughed again, this time a little bit louder than before. You were still stunned, too confused to process when he quickly pulled you in and kissed your forehead. Suddenly you did not want to protest about how messy he just made your hair. 

“It’s alright, maybe next time.” 

You covered your face with both of your palms.  “What’s with you today?!” You said with your hands still covering your face. 

“I like you.” He shrugged. “Might not be the most animated guy out there so I’m just letting you know.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m so confused with you today???” You said with flushed face. “Oh my god, that’s not the point though! I like you too!”

He chuckled. “Let’s just get back to the movie?”

The vibe after that conversation calmed down. Maybe it was the whole letting-the-cat-out-of-the-bag thing on your feelings making the air less thick. You ended up just cuddling, snuggling to each other while watching The Notebook. You both hated romance movies, but somehow finished the entire movie anyway after you misclicked it in the first place. It was nice and warm being in Yoongi’s arms and you were afraid you wouldn’t want to ever let go. 

And it was finally time for him to go home. Crazy how you did not notice the time went by so fast. Heck, you didn’t even notice the screen was already playing another movie. How could you when Yoongi was caressing your hair ever so gently? Goodness gracious. 

“Hey, I have to go now. Meeting in an hour, remember?” He tapped your shoulder. 

“I’m not letting you go.” You whined, hugging him tighter. 

He laughed. “Silly, I can come again tomorrow.”

You sat back up and looked at him. “Really???”

“I mean yeah, you don’t have work on Sunday, right?” He smiled. “If you want to, that is.”

“I want to.” You giggled. 

He flashed his gummy smile one more time before getting up from your couch. You walked with him to the door and waited for him to grab his jacket. The whole time you were stalling, asking him the most random questions, and made the silliest remarks. You just didn’t want him to go home yet, especially after finding out that he liked you too. 

“As much as I’d love to talk more about how much I disliked the whole education system, I really have to go now.” He chuckled. 

“Okay.” You pouted. You watch as he got up from tying his shoelaces. 

He huffed a sigh and smiled. “Come closer.”

You did as told without thinking and in a quick seconds, somehow you were pulled into a soft kiss. It was a soft peck and you could feel his smile through it. He didn’t gave you a chance to react as he swiftly let go. 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“Come on…” You whined again and covered your face in awkwardness, and he could only laugh at you. “Go! Before I lock you up!”

“I’ll text you.” He waved and you finally closed your door. 

You found yourself giggling and smiling to yourself like an idiot. This was new. Whatever in the fresh hell was that, you couldn’t lie to yourself that you were into this somewhat bold and flirty side of him. 

You casually walked back to your couch and switched the tv to youtube. As you let random science podcast video play, you decided to check your phone, realizing you had not text your friend back yet. 

“What do you mean by giving a score?”

Your friend replied almost too immediately. You were shocked to see the usage of caps lock. 

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW??????!!!!! WTF???”

“Okay, explain?????”

“Poor Yoongi has to deal with your dumbass 😔” 

“Shut up 🖕🖕🖕”

“It’s a code. You say that instead of asking to come over and have sex. Basically the new netflix and chill.”

“… okay. OKAY???!!!!!!”

“Bestie, did something happen though??? ��”

“SO THAT’S WHY HE TOLD ME HE WAS SURPRISED THAT THERE WAS ACTUALLY A CAT???? OMFGGGGGG!!!!!! ASFDKSPSKSG 😭😭😭”

You put down your phone to muffle your tiny scream with your knuckles. You recalled him mentioning a next time. Then you also recalled him wanting to come over again tomorrow. Needless to say, it was finally time to let out that one cute underwear you had been keeping in your drawer for months.

Thank you for reading! 🐈‍⬛💕

[sttoru]

“DO NOT INTERRUPT.”

༄ sypnosis. toji has bought you to his apartment for a quickie before he has to take on another job. toji’s agent, shiu, seems to interrupt the moment at the wrong time.

༄ note. listen i need them both in me okay.. don’t blame me f this .ehemmm, enjoy. this post contains smut. proceed at your own risk. part 2 here.

༄ tags. dom!toji x female reader. daddy kink, breast play, (implied) threesome, voyeurism, free use, dumbificiation, objectification, belly bulging, p in v — unprotected, you r not in a romantic relationship in this, toji is arrogant and a player ig, reader gets called ‘little girl, pretty, doll, sweet thing’

“toji. we don’t have all day.”

a muffled, male voice echoes through the hallway of toji’s apartment. it was a voice which toji had grown to dislike; especially due to the fact that it has interrupted many intimate moments he had with his women.

an example of such moments being now. toji had invited you over for a quickie before he had to leave to take care of a bounty he accepted. he needed to relieve his stress somehow (especially due to the constant nagging from his agent).

“tsk,” toji grumbles a few incoherent curses under his breath as he continues to drill his cock into your cunt, “can’t ya let me enjoy my woman properly for once?”

“ah, fuck, yeah—take it.” the assassin grunts, this time to you as he forces your thighs further apart; an attempt to bully his swollen tip as far as it could reach.

you hadn’t even noticed the other manly voice which didn’t belong to toji, nor had you realised that the owner of that voice slowly started to come closer to the living room. you were too lost in the pleasure you were getting as the man on top of you rubbed a calloused finger over your clit.

the heavy footsteps of toji’s agent tapping against the wooden floor increased in frequency until they eventually stopped at the door; shiu leaned against the frame, one hand in his pocket while the other held a cigarette to his lips.

“that a new one?” shiu asks as he nods his head at you, who was clearly too busy to even notice his presence in the room.

shiu’s eyes shamelessly wandered across your naked body. as much as he didn’t want to admit it out loud, the erotic sight was making him forget about the job the two were supposed to get done by the evening.

his lazy gaze was focused on the way your cunt swallowed toji’s dick, your tits that bounced with every thrust and your glossy lips that babbled mindless words.

“yeah—shit, look at her, takin’ my cock so well.” toji eventually answers in a low groan, his grip on the back of your thighs tightening as to not give you the chance to escape, “gonna need to keep her ‘round so i can use her whenever.”

your blurry vision made it hard for you to see anything but toji clearly. your hands were desperately clinging onto his biceps which tensed each time you held or caressed them in the slightest.

your eyes slowly wandered from toji to the figure standing in the doorway. you couldn’t make out who it was.

“eyes on me, little girl.” toji scoffs, one hand coming up to forcefully turn your jaw so he’d be able to look into your teary eyes, “that’s it—lemme see those pretty eyes of y’rs as i fuck you, yeah?”

multiple whimpers reverberated throughout the living room as your poor body was pushed back on the couch due to toji’s massive weight leaning on top of yours. you could see the way the scarred corner of his lips curled into a smirk, completely enjoying the taste and view of your body.

“just like that, pretty. mhm, look at me.”

as toji continues to stretch out your little cunt—entirely ignoring his agent watching the two of you as always—shiu takes a long drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke out.

as much as shiu wanted to deny that the sight had turned him on, the slight twitch in his pants said otherwise. the agent keeps his eyes on your body; shiu’d seen toji bring in many women before, however you and your high pitched moans that filled the air were too addictive. hypnotising almost.

though, shiu knew that at least one person in the room needed to stay rational. toji was obviously thinking with his dick and not his head at the moment.

“come on. time’s tick—” before shiu could finish his sentence, toji had already started to talk instead.

“shhh,” toji shushes his agent in slight annoyance, wanting nothing more than to enjoy you without having someone interrupting, “if ya ain’t gonna join, might as well shut it.”

that latter made shiu freeze in place a little, glancing from you to toji and back. shiu quickly clears his throat, rolling his eyes at the words uttered to him.

he takes a quick drag from his cigarette again, letting the ashes scatter on the floor. “i’d have to decline that offer.”

toji grins from ear to ear—eyes still focused on the way your body was quivering underneath him. his thick hand presses on your lower abdomen, feeling the outline of his dick on his palm.

“yeah? ‘re ya sure?” toji hums, finally averting his gaze from your curves to look at his agent. toji immediately knew that shiu was holding himself back, trying to play the ‘professional’ part.

a low, mocking scoff leaves toji’s lips before he looks back at you; slamming his hips against yours even harder, his heavy balls slapping against the flesh of your ass with each pump.

“i’m sure this sweet thing won’t mind being shared,” he adds, voice so sultry that it would be enough to put you in a trance, “right, doll?”

the only thing you were capable of doing was moaning and whimpering. you tried to answer him, however you cut yourself off once you felt toji flick his tongue over your nipple.

“mmh ! aah— nhh, t-toji, toji!” you repeated his name in such a sinful manner that made toji let out an arrogant laugh; he’s never failed even once to reduce the women he slept with to mindless toys who only know how to scream out his name.

“aww, can’t talk now, can ya?” toji snickers, “let daddy do the talking for ya, ‘kay? no need to have my little girl overstimulate herself.”

you nod at his words without second thoughts, drooling over yourself as your legs trembled from literally being pounded into the soft couch.

toji turns to his agent again, keeping the fast and quick tempo, the wet sounds of your own fluids mixing with his almost driving him to the edge. the loud sounds of his thrusts were impossible to ignore as well.

“i’m givin’ ya a nice opportunity here,” toji starts, swearing under his breath as he felt you tighten up around him once he hit that sweet spot inside of you.

“i ain’t the type to share my women, y’know? better make up y’r mind quick before ‘m done with her.”

shiu’s gaze flickers from your spent body to toji and then he sighs deeply. he flicks his cigarette to the side after thinking it through.

he doesn’t have much time to meet women any way. he might as well take the generous chance that was given to him.

shiu walks up to the two of you on the couch, his veiny hand already loosening his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“fine, but we have ten minutes.”

[sturnina]

Please. — c.s.

― tags;; angst with a sprinkle of fluff, aftermath of an argument, happy ending

― wc;; 901

― author's note;; feel free to take inspo, just tag me if you do and don't copy the entire thing + english is not my first language, so i apologise for mistakes <3

Chris Sturniolo doesn’t beg. Ever. For one, it’s not necessary; he can get what he wants without having to plead and implore for it. And he thinks it’s degrading, to show weakness through words that, in the end, don’t mean more than should he simply ask for something.

That is, until he finds himself outside of your front door on a Tuesday night, in pouring rain, a pathetic bouquet of flowers drooping in his hand. He’s holding onto it like it might pull him out of this situation, like it’s the last thing preventing him from breaking down right now, right here, on the porch of the house where the love of his life lives.

His thoughts are running wild, circling around the same moment again and again, and he wonders was this a bad idea? Is it too early? Should he come back later? Are you going to let him in; are you even going to look at him?

And then, in one swift motion, he does it, he rings your doorbell. He wishes he could say he nonchalantly leaned against the wall, holding the flowers like a gentleman, smiling at you, when you opened the door, but the truth is, he’s stiffly standing in the middle of the porch, now both of his hands clasping around the bouquet. The second he hears the doorbell inside of the house, he regrets it, and wants to turn around, to run back home. Matt and Nick don’t even know where he is, he should just…

You open the door.

Despite the reserved expression on your face, his shoulders slump with relief. You look him up and down, seeing the drooping flowers, the rain dripping off his jacket and hair, his pitiful expression.

“…Hey,” he finally croaks out.

Sighing, you cross your arms. The door isn’t fully open as if you were ready to close it any second.

“What do you want?”

Chris straightens his back and holds his flowers up. “To apologise,” he says a little timidly.

You arch an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He clears his throat and lowers his hands again as it doesn’t seem like you’re going to take the flowers just yet.

“I was stupid. I am stupid. I should’ve known how much it meant to you. How badly I hurt you, I mean. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. I was busy with filming, I was tired, and exhausted, and…”

He sees your stern expression that seems to get colder with every word of his explanation, and quickly clears his throat.

“And that is not the point. The point is, I’m so sorry for forgetting about our anniversary date.”

“You didn’t just ‘forget’ about it, you ignored me the entire day! I tried calling you how many times, seven? I was worried!” you say, another wave of emotion bubbling up in your chest.

Chris internally flinches at your words, but he knows it’s all true. “I know,” he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. “I know, I’m an asshole, I worried you without reason, I hurt you, but can I come in? We can- I don’t know, we can watch a movie, order pizza- or sushi, I don’t care…” He holds out the flowers again, a helpless, pathetic gesture.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. “I’m tired, Chris,” you mutter. “I’ve been up all day, and I spent half of it worrying about or being mad at you.”

“For a reason,” he quickly adds, “I just think-”

“Chris.”

He stops and just looks at you.

“Not today.” You go to close the door, but he is quick to stick his foot in between the frame and the door.

“Please.” He sounds so pathetic, so weak, and you know you shouldn’t give in, you want to let him drown in his guilt just for a few more hours.

“Please, we don’t have to talk. I just want to cuddle, we don’t need to watch anything, just please let me in, let me try to make it better…”

He holds up the flowers a third time, and you can’t resist anymore. Hesitantly, you take the bouquet out of his hands and let the door handle go. He immediately opens the door wider, scared you’ll close it immediately again. But you don’t, you step aside to let him in.

The relief that washes over him is visible in the way his posture straightens the second he steps over the threshold into the warmth of your house. It is visible in his eyes, in the way he quickly scans your face to evaluate whether you’re still mad — which you are, by the way — and the way he immediately goes to hug you. The movement is clear but slow, giving you a moment to back off. But you don’t, and his arms embrace you. Chris buries his face in your neck and holds you tight, almost scared to let you go again.

“I’ll organise another date,” he promises, “tomorrow. Twice as good as the one we’d planned.”

“Twice?” you ask, your voice slightly muffled through the fabric of his hoodie.

“Three times.”

You can’t help but giggle slightly at that. Because, despite your cold attitude toward him, you missed him, and you’d been missing him the entire time. Still, you know you’re not going to let it be that he ignored you for an entire day.

masterlist

[coolshadowtwins]

SVSSS System Reveal Fic round up!

If you know one that hasn’t been recc’ed, then please put it in the comments/tags! I’ll add it to the post!

A Transmigrator and a Time Traveler Walk into the Bamboo House by VeryCharismaticDragon

Over a year after Shen Qingqiu's death, Luo Binghe consults his servant's servant, concurrently his disgraced martial uncle, for a way to bring the love of his life back. Shang Qinghua sends him in the direction of a certain time-traveling artifact, which supposedly brings one to the day they first met their soulmate.

Odd, though, that the artifact ends up missing the destination by just a few years…

A story in which post-Abyss Luo Binghe relives his disciple days, while juggling his secrets, traumas, and some unexpected revelations about the man he loves on top of that.

What is Seen by CaveteDracones

…is not [always] the real truth.

Truth-compelling artifacts in the hands of an enemy to one side, SYSTEM-mandated silence on the other, and Shen Qingqiu caught between the two. Is it too late to go back to the Water Prison? (NOTE: This one was recommended three times, and I have personally reread it multiple times. It’s one of my favorites and I really do want to read more fics in a similar vein lol)

open my lungs to let you in by ghostybreads

Shen Qingqiu had a secret. So, naturally, it was only a matter of time before he was hit by a truth serum wife plot.

//

“How are you?”

“Horny. Kind of want Binghe to rail me, I guess. But it’s manageable.”

Liu Qingge’s hand on his forehead froze, and he was close enough that Shen Qingqiu could hear his breathing stop. He stared back expressionlessly, the mortification distantly crawling up the back of his neck. Honest One-Horned–

The frustrated scream that he usually vented in his head, came out straight from mouth.

“aaAAAAAHHHH GODDAMNIT AIRPLANE–”

Futility in Practice by TGP

When Luo Binghe is fourteen years old, his shizun suffers a terrible qi deviation and fever that completely changes who he is.

and judgment is just like a cup that we share by Kieron_ODuibhir

The blob finished rotating into place in a way that wasn’t quite compatible with geometry as Shen Qingqiu understood it, and cleared a throat it didn’t seem to have.

“Greetings,” it said, somehow clearly addressing him in particular more than the room as a whole despite its total lack of features other than blueness and translucency. “I’m here on behalf of the Hyper-Celestial Peace and Order Enforcement Bureau. Crime scene secure, proceeding to interviews. Beginning with Subject One: You are Shen Qingqiu, formerly Shen Yuan, also known as Peerless Cucumber?”

First, do no harm by Terias

Shen Qingqiu has been acting especially erratic since awakening from his three day coma after a severe qi deviation.

Mu Qingfang investigates and discovers a great many things about his new shixiong. (NOTE: This one has Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu as the same soul, technically, but it still works I think!)

Show The Screenshots by A_Non_ymousWriter

When a rogue foreign System sends out a subtle virus, some outsiders are shown chat messages between a certain two transmigrators and their Systems.

AirplaneBro: nah dude shen jiu would never lay a hand on his female disciples like that, hes gay

Liu Qingge tripped on thin air while Mu Qingfang choked on his tea as Shang Qinghua (their god? creator??) casually shattered their view of their original Shen Qingiu. The fake Shen Qingqiu at least, was sharing their shock.

CucumberBro: EXCUSE ME WHAT??

CucumberBro: The fuck he is?!?! He literally GOES TO BROTHELS! LIU QINGGE FOUND HIM IN BED WITH A WOMAN THAT ONE TIME?

AirplaneBro: aight bro buckle the fuck up cuz imma take u on a joyride all about shen jiu >:)

—————-

Binghes#1Fan: I don't want to send Binghe into the Abyss...

System 2: User must comply, if User cannot do the task User will be punished and the account will be terminated.

Mobeis #1Fan: sorry bro unless ur okay w being ded af u gotta push binghe into the abyss

Ning Yingying's fists clenched. Okay, so trying to get Yuan-ge and A-Luo together would be harder than she thought.

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 7]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: I know I always say this, but I am very excited for this part! lol I hope y'all like it! Also, if I forgot to tag you in the taglist, or if you'd like to be added, please let me know! I try to add people as they ask, but I'm afraid I'll miss someone. So just let me know! Thanks!

Taglist: @cassies-cookies @crisle19 @jk-190811 @khadeeeeej @kooklovee @lalataegi @lallataegi @parkinglot-nights @rispwr @taetaecatboy @whoa-jo @11thenightwemet11

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

“How are you feeling about today?” Namjoon asked his client. 

Jimin was standing with you in the lobby of the courthouse, dressed in his best Ralph Lauren suit, keeping your hand in his. You sported a long-sleeve baby blue pencil dress from Versace that belted around the waist, with a pair of beige Louboutin heels. You chose your outfit knowing that the press would be there that day, and you wanted to appear put together and presentable for your fiancé’s case. Standing by him, with your engagement ring proudly shining on your finger, you could see the cameras outside through the lobby windows, snapping photos that will undoubtedly be front page news tomorrow. You understood fully that the direction the day goes would determine so much; the Park family name, the perception of Jimin as incoming CEO of the company, and most importantly, your future together. 

“I’m ok.” Jimin replied, gripping your hand, before turning to look at your face. “How are you feeling, my love?” 

“I’m ok, too.” You offered a sweet smile. Composed. 

“We’ll get through this.” Namjoon said. “I can’t imagine Judge Harmon being more difficult than he has to be.” 

“How is he? As a judge?” Jimin asks. 

“No bullshit, but fair.” Namjoon replied. “He’s worked in the city a long time, and he’s seen it all. But as long as he can see that you’re trying, he’s fair.” 

Namjoon glanced at his phone, checking the time. 

“We need to go in there, it’s our time.” Namjoon said. “Ms. Y/L/N, thank you for having your statement ready for me this morning.” 

“Of course.” You responded, squeezing Jimin’s hand. “Anything to make this easier.” 

Jimin smiled sadly at your words. He wished it were easier; he wished the situation weren’t so difficult on you. He felt like a liar to your families, and to himself. He knew he’s already failed so many times in taking care of you, loving you, and giving you the life he knows you deserve. Yet here you were, dignified as always, standing by him in front of the world’s attention. He didn’t deserve you, and for the first time, he truly understood that deeply. But he was thankful that you were there nonetheless, holding his hand. 

The four of you walked down the hallway together, and you gave Jimin a quick kiss for luck before slipping away with Jung Kook into the public, gallery seats in the court room, behind Namjoon and Jimin’s council table. The court was empty otherwise, except for the other legal team at their table, as the judge ordered prior to that no cameras were to be inside for this brief decision. 

“All rise for the honorable Judge Joseph Harmon.” The bailiff announced, leading everyone in the room to stand while the judge entered, taking his seat at the bench. “You may be seated.” 

“Mr. Park,” Judge Harmon began, looking up from his glasses to the young heir. “It seems your council is asking for a deferral on your case today. Is that correct?” 

“Yes, your honor.” Jimin answered. 

“Your honor, my client is asking for a minimum ninety day deferral, in order to seek rehabilitation treatment.” Namjoon began. “We request to submit a treatment plan to the court, as well as a personal character statement written by the defendant’s fiancé.” 

“Very well.” Judge Harmon nodded, allowing the bailiff to take the paper work from Namjoon and bring it to him. The court was silent as he looked through the documents quickly. “And, why must the defendant miss his upcoming court dates for this? Could he not be escorted to and from the court during those dates, and return once the day is over?” 

“Your honor, it would be against the suggestion of his therapy team to remove Mr. Park from his in-person support for long hours at a time.” Namjoon reasoned. “His team, as well as Ms. Y/L/N, have requested in writing that Mr. Park focus solely on his health before his dates, as any distraction may disturb his treatment plan.” 

“Your honor,” The opposing lawyer spoke up, her tone annoyed. “Calling this case a ‘distraction’ is insulting to those who Mr. Park misled and defrauded out of their investments. I would argue that Mr. Park is attempting to delay this case in order to lower his chances of facing any consequences for his actions.” 

“If I may, your honor,” Namjoon responded, “I can assure the court that Mr. Park is not delaying consequences, as we feel that we have a strong case against these allegations. My client is simply doing the responsible thing; doing right by his family, his business, and his wife-to-be, by seeking immediate help for his addiction and behavior.” 

“And what behavior would that be, Mr. Kim?” The judge asked. Jimin shot Namjoon a wide-eyed panicked look, not wanting to reveal his private fight with you. 

You became nervous, as well. Jung Kook knowingly reached for your hand, and was surprised when you took it, locking your fingers with his for support. I’m right here, Y/N, he said to himself, as if you could hear his thoughts. 

“Emotional management courses, your honor.” Namjoon replied. “It’s standard practice for someone on this treatment path, as outlined by his recovery team.” 

“I see.” Judge Harmon said, looking at the blonde heir. Jimin was sitting upright, in perfect posture, trying to keep his composure under the weight of the judge’s look. “Mr. Park, I believe it may be best for you to seek treatment before we continue with the case. The court is granting you the request for a ninety-day deferral to focus on your health.” 

“Thank you, your honor.” Namjoon smiled, looking over at a very relieved Jimin. The prosecution lawyer rolled her eyes and tsked in disbelief, but Namjoon paid it no mind. 

Jimin turned around to give you a smile, and Jung Kook mentally thanked his luck that your fiancé didn’t see his hand in yours from where he was sitting, because Jung Kook wasn’t at all ready to let you go; to let you leave his hold, and run back to him. But Jung Kook knew he had to, as much as it hurt him. He knew, despite his heart begging at him to keep you close, that you weren’t his to hold on to. 

————————————————————————————————————

Namjoon brought you and Jimin back to your hotel room to help Jimin pack for his treatment, while Jung Kook retreated back to his office for the rest of the day. When you arrived at the suite, bottles were still scattered among the tables, floors and counters, reminding you of all of the terrible nights, not just the most recent incident, where Jimin had crossed the line. All of the times he messed up, not keeping his promise that he whispered to you that night in front of your families.

“Mr. Kim,” Jimin called out to Namjoon from the bedroom, who was gathering Jimin’s clothes from the closet nearby. “Would you be alright with leaving Y/N and I for the afternoon? My driver will make sure I’m on time for my check-in, I just… I’d like to have some private time with her.” 

“Of course, Mr. Park.” Namjoon said, bowing respectfully. “If either of you need anything, please don't hesitate to call.” 

“Thank you.” Jimin said, waving to him on his way out, before turning to you. 

You were picking up empty bottles with a sadness in your eyes that Jimin never, in his life, wanted to see again. 

“Hi, my love.” Jimin said as gently as he could, approaching you. He could see that sadness so clearly the closer he came, and saw just how deep in truly ran. “Honey, come here. I wanna talk to you.” 

You nodded, and reached out for his hand. Jimin led you to the bedroom, and sat you on the bed before bending down on the floor by your legs to look up at you, making you giggle. 

“Jiminie, what are you doing?” You laughed, earning a smile from your fiancé. 

“Jiminie? Honey, you haven’t called me that in so long.” He replied. “I just wanted to look at you, my love, and I wanted to ask what my pretty girl is thinking about.” 

“I… I don’t wanna fight anymore.” You replied, your voice so quickly turning soft in exhaustion and sadness. 

“There won’t be any fighting today.” He said, rubbing his hands up your legs in comfort. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

“I’m just tired.” You responded truthfully. “I’m so tired, baby. I can’t… I don’t know what to do…” 

“Shhhh, I know.” Jimin said gently, looking at your face as you spoke. He could see it from the dark circles under your eyes, and the dullness of your skin. “I know I haven’t made things easy on you, and I’m sorry honey. You must be so worried all the time, right? Not sleeping or eating much?” 

You nodded to confirm. “Jung Kook made japchae, and that was the first full dish I’ve eaten in a while.” 

Jimin smiled unconvincingly, hating to know that another man took care of you in the way he should’ve. 

“I’m glad you ate well, my love.” He said diplomatically. “When I’m in treatment, I want you to you sleep and eat well every day, ok? And I want you to tell me if you need anything at all. ” 

“Baby, I’ll be ok.” You smiled, delicately keeping your composure. “It’s only for a short time, right? You need to focus on getting better, not on my needs. Besides, Jung Kook is there, just in case. I won’t be alone.” 

“Yeah.” Jimin nodded, trying to keep his protectiveness and jealousy under control. “But listen, honey, I mean it. If you need or want anything, you can come to me, ok? I want you to come to me.” 

“Ok.” You nodded. 

Jimin gazed up at you for a moment longer, unsure if you really meant it, because knowing you, you’ll do things yourself or ask someone else before him, just to make sure he focuses on himself. You knew that giving you things was Jimin’s way of feeling adequate. A manicure, a new bag or dress, a nice meal at a nice place, a beautiful vacation, amazing sex. Jimin felt needed and secure as a man when he gave you these things. But what Jimin didn’t realize, was that you needed something that was somehow both more, and so simple. You only needed him to be ok, and to prove that he can be a stable partner for you.   

After a few moments of committing your features to memory, etching them into his mind, Jimin wrapped a hand around each of your ankles, and began kissing up your exposed legs, distracting you from your thoughts. Softly, slowly moving up your skin with his plush pink lips, making you giggle in surprise.

“Jimin!” You laughed sweetly. 

“Let me make you feel good, honey.” He said, his voice deepening as he moves up your legs, lifting your dress. “Gonna use my tongue just how you like it.” 

He continued to pull your dress up as he moved, keeping himself on his knees, nibbling and kissing your thighs until he reached your lace panties. He kissed you over the fabric, teasing you with just enough pressure and tongue to make you whimper in anticipation.

“Jimin, please…” You begged, running your fingers through his blonde locks. 

“Angel, this sweet little pussy’s so wet for me already.” He murmured, moving your lace to the side with one finger. “Such a needy girl, so easy to get your pretty pussy excited.” 

He gave you wet, soft kisses along your opening, nibbling delicately on the skin, making your throw your head back and pick up your breathing. Then, his tongue, pressing quick kitten licks at your clit, which had already peeked out to seek attention. 

“J-Jimin…” You whined, gripping his hair as he continued to alternate between speed and pressure, licking and sucking, burying himself between your thighs. He slid a finger, then two, moving them in and out, and curling them to caress your sensitive spot. “Baby… Baby… Please… Baby…” 

You had no idea what exactly you were begging him for, with your mind emptying alongside each movement. You knew it was a distraction; a moment of pleasure in a sea of pain that you’ve tasted many times before. But for now, you’d let his familiar touch melt your worries away once again. A few more moments of careful attention had your toes curling and your hands pulling his hair as you came with a cry. .

You let him move you up further onto the bed, so that he could undo his pants and drop them to his knees, to let his hard, sensitive length spring out. He slid fully into you with a possessive growl, and began to fuck you hard, making the hotel bed, and yourself, squeak just as you did the first night you stayed here. 

Each movement was a strong cocktail of loving passion, pleasureful distraction, and begging apology, mixed with a lingering sense of his sense of possession. Jimin locked his lips to your neck, and engraved you with shallow marks as he whispered in your ear, “My pretty girl… Fuck, my sweet angel… My girl, taking my cock so well… F-Fuck…. All mine… ” 

It was a clear reminder, whispered to you through your whines as you let pleasure consume you once more, feeling his thumb massage your clit; Parks got what they wanted, and Jimin intended on keeping it that way. His mistakes could always be fixed with the swipe of a card, some sweet words, or a good, loving touch between your thighs. But as his thrusts became more sloppy and shallow, so too did his promises, when he pulled out and spilled onto you, ignoring his vow to finish inside and be closer to you. 

It was a moment of realization, as you lay there looking at his beautiful face, that no matter how seemingly hard he would try, he would always be Jimin. Flaws and all. The way he showed love, the increasingly obvious emptiness of his commitments, the circles he takes your heart in. He will always be that version of himself, because it is the only version of himself.

As he kissed your neck and whispered “I love you”, you wondered, for the first time, if those words, and that love, would ever truly be enough. 

——————————————————————————————————  

You went with Jimin to the rehabilitation center, and after a teary goodbye, you had the driver take you to Jung Kook’s apartment. He was waiting for you in the living room, only able to imagine the emotional day you had. He had rehearsed over and over again what to say, to give you the comfort and love he knew that you needed. But when you walked in with tears, his mind blanked, and the only thing he could think to ask was, “What do you need?” 

“I… I don’t know.” You said softly, unsure of so many things. 

Jung Kook looked at you with sad brown eyes, walked towards you, and replied, “I think what you need, is a hug. C’mere.” 

As he wrapped his arms around you, he realized he couldn’t have offered anything better. You clung to him like a float in a crashing ocean, desperate for a moment of calm. He wanted to provide that for you, so he held you close, hoping it could somehow meld the leftover pieces back together. Or, at the very least, remind you that you never had to pick them back up alone. 

He hoped you understood that later that night, when he heard you speaking to your father on a video call in the guest room. Jung Kook wanted to give you privacy, but when he heard the angry tone of your father, he couldn’t help but overhear through the thin wall between the bedrooms. 

“So Jimin is in treatment right now?” 

“Yes, Appa.” You responded, nervously picking at your nails. “I think he’ll be better afterwards. He just needs some time.” 

“Y/N,” Your father sighed. “I don’t like that you’re dealing with this again. How many more times are you going to have to go through this with him?” 

“He’s really trying.” You said sadly. “He’s not a bad person.” 

“I know he’s not a bad person, sweetie.” You father said, trying to reason with you. “But I think he may be ‘bad’ for you. I don’t know, I’m just worried about you. Are you by yourself now, in a new city?” 

“No, Appa. I’m staying with Jung Kook.” You said. “He works with Mr. Kim, and I used to go to university with him. He’s been very sweet to me, you would like him if you met him.” 

Jung Kook couldn’t help but smile at your words, but still held on to what your father said. Jimin’s not a bad person, but he’s bad for you. Your own father having doubts about your engagement was not something he expected to hear, but he shouldn’t say he was all that surprised. You deserved more. 

When he heard you say your goodbyes, his thoughts were interrupted, and he began to scroll through his phone as he laid on his bed, pretending as though he hadn’t heard your conversation. 

“Hi.” You said after a few moments, with a knock on his bedroom door. “I think I’m going to bed.” 

“I’m sure you’re tired. It’s been a hard day.” Jung Kook responded, watching you turn around. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, turning around towards him once more. 

“I’m off tomorrow.” He smiled. “Let me show you some cool places in the city.” 

“Jung Kook, you don’t have to do that-”

“I want to.” He replied. “Please? I think I… um, it can make you feel better.” 

You smiled at his sentiment, ignoring the charming slip of his words. 

“Ok.” You agreed, giving in to the brown, puppy eyes of the man who looked so soft in his bed. “It’ll be fun.” 

“Yeah.” He smiled. "I think so, too."

“Goodnight.” You waved, turning away from him. 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened, watching your hand wave him good night. Something was different, missing, that was clearly there before your conversation with your father. It made his heart drop to his stomach, and his mind buzz for the rest of the night.

Your engagement ring was gone. 

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do fic for Checo Perez with wife reader? He had some insecurity about his abilities to race against the grid and she just hugged and comforted him. Add something else to it if you want to. Tag me later Thanks!! :))

The pressure is insane… - Sergio Perez x Wife! Reader

Plot: Checo replacing Alex was probably the best thing to happen to him in his Formula One career. However, so much pressure comes from being in that second Red Bull seat, not just the team but the fans too, and Checo doesn’t like the pressure on him.

When Checo came into the seat, and performance wasn’t great, people in the team told him it would be fine and to keep his head up because everyone knew he was getting used to how different the Red Bull Car is thanks to Max’s driving style.

But at it came to his second season, and it didn’t seem like things were improving much, Christian kept talking to him, explaining what was expected of him as if he hadn’t already informed him over 100 times.

He was just struggling with a car that was clearly built for their main driver, which is why Pierre crumbled under pressure and it’s why they couldn’t put up with Alex when he didn’t learn the car quick enough for them.

The gave Checo the benefit of the doubt throughout 2022, but when Red Bulls most dominant season came around it was without a doubt that your husband had to step up.

And in your eyes he had, getting two race wins under his belt, but he wasn’t consistent enough for Christian and it seemed that he wanted Checo to be actually challenging Max more.

It got worse when the Ferrari and McLaren started to beat him despite being in the worse car, and it was deemed a ‘driver issue’

Sergio felt awful, for a man who had been racing for as long as he had, he never felt doubtful of his abilities to put on a show and drive to the best of his ability.

But now, in the Red Bull seat, he actually understood the words ‘under pressure’ because he was under it constantly.

“Baby what’s wrong with you, you’ve been jittery all week” you ask your husband who was currently watching over some of his old races with a notepad.

“Hmmm?” He asks not even throwing a glance in your direction.

You knew he wasn’t listening.

“Well I just think that when aliens invade Earth that we should have a bunker ready and prepared so that you and I can help create a new civilisation after the government kill them all …” you say trying to grab a reaction from him.

“Hmmm yeah that’s really nice” he starts but then he looks up and his head cocks to the side as if his brain just processed the words you said. “Wait what?” He asks.

You chuckle and little bit happy to have his attention.

“I just wanted to see if you were listening, I asked what’s been up with you lately” you say softly, taking a seat next to him, reaching over to grab the remote and pause the race he was observing so his full attention was on you.

“Nothing wrong, I’m fine” he lies.

“Hermoso, we’ve been married for 6 years, I know when somethings up” you smile taking his hand into yours and kissing the back of it softly while watching for his reaction.

“I just … nevermind it’s stupid” he sighs looking down.

“None of your feelings are stupid baby, please let me in” you say calmly.

“I just feel like, I’m so singled out on the grid. You’ve got so many amazing drivers and then there’s me. Lewis is a 7x world champion, and and Max my own team mate has won 2, and he’s probably going to win this year by a landslide and then there’s Fernando again he has two championships, and then you’ve got all this new talent in Lando, and Charles and Carlos and now that Oscar is here, it’s getting tough” he admits and you softly smile at him.

“Where have all these doubts come from honey?” You ask, you knew he didn’t think he was the best driver, but he never once compared his abilities to individual drivers.

“Christian said that if I didn’t improve he’d replace me with Yuki, Liam or Daniel and that i might not even get a AlphaTauri seat as a replacement” he says putting his face in his hands with a soft sigh.

You pull him into a hug in which he nuzzles his head into your neck.

You are an incredible driver, there’s just such an insane amount of talent on the grid right now, you being one of them. World champion or not baby, your still one of only 20 drivers in the world that are here! Your a race winner and I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. You are incredible” you smile wrapping your arms around him while you feel him shake a little, presumably where he’s crying.

“Im just awful at it all. Driving, being a husband … you’ve been asking for a baby for 3 years and I keep telling you no because I’m so career focused but I can’t even seem to be good at that career” he complains and you almost laugh.

“Oh honey, I think you forget you are without a doubt the best thing that’s ever happened to me, child or no child. And where you aren’t ready because your at a point in your career that is crucial, I’ll always understand that darling. You are all I need, you are all I want. And I married you because I’m happy with you” you say tightening your hold on him.

“You know, I would never not be ready to have a kid. If you want one, we can have one. I’d never say no” he argues wiping his eyes and looking at you, only for you to release a breath of relief.

“Thank god, that night in Saudi Arabia really stuck” you admit and he cocks his head to the side not understanding. You take his hand and place it on your stomach, there wasn’t much of a bump, but a slight and minuscule weight gain was there. Enough that when he run his hand over your tummy he could feel it.

“Are you saying?” He asks and you nod.

“I know, I know it’s not the right time because your so stressed and I’ve been so nervous to tell you because I know you’ve had a lot on your plate since being in Red Bull and it was such a shock to me” you start to ramble thinking you should have waited.

“No this is the best news ever! This has made my day, my week, my year even!” He smiles before lifting you up and twirling you round.

“I love you” he says pulling you in for a kiss, happy with life.

And now he didn’t have anything to worry about, as long as he was able to provide for you and your child or children in the future he knew he could handle the pressure because now there was something else riding on it!

A/N: hey guys I didn’t realise tumblr only lets you do 50 tags per post! So I’m not sure what to do about taglist anymore? Any suggestions?

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To a Tea 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary:  A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character:  Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

You don’t often miss work, but that week, a burst pipe throws everything off. A morning spent waiting on your landlord, then the next few hours for a plumber, has things a bit off kilter. Even the next day, you’re not quite back on point. 

The patched wall next to fridge reminds you of the disaster and a dingy smell persists. You hope it doesn’t cling to you as you set off for your shift that day. If you can, you want to pick up some hours from others if their up for grabs. Harry doesn’t like Saturday’s, maybe he’ll hand over some. 

You try to leave your problems behind as you catch a bus down to the city centre. You get to the tea shop five minutes before the hour. Jenna’s wrapping up the opening tasks as you go to leave your things in the back. You tie on your apron and unlock the front door for the first customers of the day. 

At first, it’s a trickle. Never very much at all. The early risers who often come alone or if they aren’t, they don’t speak much or very loudly. The smell of fresh baking and the slow rising sun add to the lazy din. 

“Thought the special was strawberry today,” you comment as you transfer macarons from a cooled tray to the display. 

“Eh, it was but we didn’t have enough jam,” she shrugs. “Changed the sign, is all.” 

“Ah, thought my mind was lagging again. Everything’s been off since yesterday.” 

“Eh, how’s the apartment, anyhow? Marilyn said it was something about a leak?” 

“Burst pipe,” you explain, “they took out the wall above the sink, buncha clanging all day. When I tell you this place is like heaven.” 

She chuckles, “can be.” 

“There’s a formal tea booked in the Marigold Room at noon,” she intones, “forgot to mention that. With Mother’s day coming up, suppose we’ll get more bookings.” 

“Suppose,” you go to check the schedule hanging on the wall. “Party of twelve, wow.” 

“I’ll man the till. Honest, since those ladies at New Years, I’ve hated doing them.” 

“No problem, Harry should be here, shouldn’t he?” 

“Well, he’s... called in.” 

“Again?” You whine as you face her. 

“Are you really surprised?” She scoffs. 

“No one else to cover? Not even Louisa?” 

“Nah, she’s on holiday still.” 

You huff, “fine. Not much of a choose then, is it?” 

🫖

The tea room is as close to raucous as you’ve ever heard it. You have your back to the rest of the shop as you balance the stacked serving trays with an array of sponge cake, fruit, and biscuits. It’s the typical assortment for a tea party booking. 

You’ve already served the tea and the sandwiches, and dessert is the last bit, along with any further pots needed to be steeped throughout. With a partner, it isn’t hard to keep up, but alone, it’s rather overwhelming. Jenna does her best to assist but there aren’t many lulls around lunch time. 

Beyond that, the tourists are chatty. You could hardly get away to fetch each course as they wanted to chat about the culture and your suggestions of what they should do next. It’s nice that they’re friendly but still stressful. 

You put the trays on the cart and roll it around the counter. As you do, you nearly skid to a halt. In the rush, you hadn’t noticed him. Your eyes meet Raymond’s as he watches you. Intent, intense. You give an apologetic smile and nod in acknowledgement. Jenna wanted to deal with the main room, she’ll have to wipe down his table and do her best. 

You roll behind the wall and into the Marigold room. You present the tray and grab it by the ring at the top, lifting it onto the centre of the table. You roll around to gather the empty plates and cups, taking two pots for refill. 

You come back out and see Raymond standing, just as he was. He sees you too. Watching, hands folded, knuckles white, jaw set. He’s usually patient but you don’t know how long he’s been waiting. 

You roll behind the counter and sigh, clearing off the cart as Jenna steams a tea latte. 

“Can you wipe Raymond’s table?” You ask. 

“Who?” She furrows her brow. 

You glance over your shoulder toward the man in question and she follows. She rolls her eyes, “I tried, I wiped the the table. He didn’t sit.” 

“Hm, well... did you wash your hands first?” 

“Christ Almighty, what is he a child?” 

“Jen, he’s just... you know, my mom’s the same. He can’t help it.” 

“You can deal with him. I won’t be arsed,” she sniffs, “he was rude and you know I don’t got time for those ones.” 

“Jenna, I’m kinda up to my eyes,” you dump the used bags from a pot. “I know he can be prickly but just wash your hands and redo the table.” 

“Ugh, fine,” she sneers, “but you owe me.” 

“Let’s call it even,” you retort as you pour boiling water into the pots mouth. 

She shakes her head and huffs, “guess it is.” 

🫖

It’s nearly three in the afternoon. It’s quiet. Harry’s on his phone instead of doing the cups and your wiping the empty tables to keep yourself moving. The door opens and you glance over to make sure Harry’s alert. He’s not. 

Doesn’t matter. It’s him. Raymond. You stand and clutch the cloth tight in your hand as you greet him. 

“Be right with you, Raymond,” you assure him. 

He barely looks at you as he goes to wait next to his table. You go behind the counter and mutter under your breath in Harry’s direction, “...dirty cups.” You wash your hands and make sure to clink some of the empty porcelain in an effort to draw your coworker’s attention. He’s still entranced by his phone. 

You take the disinfectant wipes and go back out. You approach Raymond as he checks his watch. 

“How are you today?” You ask. 

He grumbles and shrugs, “fine.” 

“English Breakfast, black,” you declares as you finish wiping up, “usual.” 

“So you remember,” he challenges as he steps close, closer than ever, before sidling around to sit. 

“Of course, I always do,” you smile. 

“And last time?” 

“Last time...” 

“Twice.” 

You’re confused. What is he talking about? 

“I came on Tuesday and you weren’t here. Then on Thursday, you didn’t even say hello.” 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, Raymond, it was a busy day. Tuesday, I had a personal emergency so I didn’t even know you’d been in--” 

“I’ll have my tea now,” he interjects tersely. 

“Right, tea,” you confirm and spin around. 

“Crooked strings,” he remarks dully, “again.” 

[kentochronicles]

The Way We Should’ve Been

Nanami Kento x Reader

A/N: here it is!! The much happier part 3 🥰 thank you all so much for your love and patience, the feedback has been amazing and I’m so grateful to everyone 🩵 enjoy 🫂 all likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated 🩵

Tagging: @empower-bi-women - ty for being my reader again 😘 and @itsafairytalekay 🩵

The familiar scent of the infirmary at Jujutsu High enveloped you as you sat beside Nanami’s bed. The soft glow of the afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm light over the room, which felt like a sanctuary after the chaos of Shibuya. You could hardly believe it—he was alive, healed by Shoko’s skillful hands, and you could finally breathe again.

As you held his hand, your heart raced with anticipation, every moment feeling surreal. Nanami stirred, blinking against the brightness as his eyes focused on you. “Hey,” he murmured, a faint smile breaking across his lips.

“Hey!” You nearly jumped with joy, squeezing his hand tighter. “You’re awake! I was so worried.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I’m sorry for making you worry. You know how I can be.”

You playfully shoved his shoulder. “Yeah, but you can’t keep sacrificing yourself like that! You have to let someone else carry the weight sometimes.”

He winced slightly at the motion, and your heart sank. “Oh, I’m sorry!” you quickly exclaimed, concern flooding your voice.

“It’s okay,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Just let Shoko know that she’ll have to add ‘shoulder shoving’ to the list of things I’m recovering from. You could’ve warned me first!”

You laughed, relief washing over you. “I promise to ease up on the shoving, Doctor’s orders!”

Nanami’s gaze softened as he studied your face, taking in the concern etched there. “I didn’t want to leave you. I promised I would come back.”

Your heart swelled at his words, relief flooding through you. “You kept your promise. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

He sighed, a deep and contemplative sound. “I’ve been thinking about everything while I was recovering… about my purpose and what I want.”

You leaned in closer, sensing the weight of his words. “What do you mean?”

“I want to retire from being a jujutsu sorcerer,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ve seen too much darkness, too many people I care about getting hurt. I want to focus on living and building a future—our future.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the gravity of his words settling in. “Retire? But you’re so good at what you do. It’s important.”

He shook his head, determination flashing in his eyes. “I want to prioritize what truly matters. I want to be with you, without the fear of losing each other to this dangerous life.”

Tears of relief brimmed in your eyes as the reality of his words sank in. “You really mean it?”

“Absolutely.” He took a deep breath, a serious yet tender look crossing his features. “And I want to make this official.”

With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple, elegant ring. “Will you marry me?”

You gasped, your heart racing as you took in the sight of the ring. It was beautiful—a symbol of everything you had fought for and everything you hoped to build together. “Yes! Yes, of course!” you exclaimed, tears streaming down your cheeks as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

As the ring settled into place, Nanami’s expression softened even more. He leaned closer, brushing a gentle thumb against your cheek before capturing your lips in a kiss. It was sweet and full of promise, the culmination of all your hopes and fears. In that moment, nothing else mattered—the chaos outside, the darkness you had faced—it all faded into the background.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and glowing, you gazed into his eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening,” you whispered, still feeling the warmth of his lips against yours.

“Believe it,” he replied, his voice low and filled with love. “We have a whole new life ahead of us, one where we can find happiness together.”

Just as the weight of your moment began to settle, the door to the infirmary swung open, and in burst Gojo, his eyes wide and filled with a mix of surprise and excitement. “Did I just hear a marriage proposal?!”

Startled, you and Nanami quickly turned to face him. “Gojo!” Nanami exclaimed, his expression shifting from serene to annoyed. “Can’t you knock?”

Gojo ignored the annoyance in Nanami’s voice, rushing over with a wide grin. “I can’t believe you’re both alive and happy! This is the best news ever!” He dramatically threw his arms around you both, pulling you into an awkward group hug. “I’m so proud of you, Nanami! You finally found someone to put up with you!”

Nanami’s face flushed with mild irritation, but there was an undeniable softness in his gaze. “Gojo, please. We were having a moment.”

Gojo pulled back just enough to pout, his signature grin unwavering. “A moment? But I want in on the moment! This is like a romantic movie!”

“Yeah, well, the romantic movie is over, so can you please leave?” Nanami said, trying to keep his exasperation in check.

With an exaggerated sigh, Gojo held his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine! I’ll let you two have your lovey-dovey time.” He turned to walk away, but not before throwing a wink over his shoulder. “Just remember, if you need a witness, I’m the best!”

As the door closed behind him, you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the tension ease. Nanami shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “I swear he’s a child sometimes.”

You leaned closer to Nanami, wrapping your arms around him. “True, but at least he keeps things interesting.”

In the comforting embrace of the infirmary, surrounded by the remnants of your battles and the playful banter of your friends, you felt hope blossom within you. With Nanami by your side, the future was bright, filled with love, laughter, and the promise of new beginnings. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you would face them together, and that thought alone made you feel at ease in his arms.

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 13: Birthday Surprises

Prompt: "That's not the point"

A surprise birthday party for Mulder - thrown by someone you might not expect. Rating: T, wc: 1,512

This is a birthday story for @randomfoggytiger! It's got fluff, baby William, and Bill Jr.

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

“We need to talk.” It’s good that he’s just put William to bed because her words make him drop the dirty diaper.

“What happened?” he asks, searching her face. His first thought is the big, fat D’s. Death. Divorce. Disease. He rakes his brain; she’s been fine yesterday, and every day before that. And they’re fairly happy, too. He’s sure of that.

“I got a call from my mom,” Scully says, taking his hand and leading him away from the nursery, toward the living room and the couch. So it’s ‘let’s sit down’ news. His hand feels ice-cold but if it is, Scully doesn’t mention it. A call from her mother could mean anything. The two big contenders are now death and disease.

“Is she- is she sick?” Mulder stammers.

“Hm? No. Mulder, you’re shaking.” She holds both his hands in hers even though his are so much bigger.

“You said we need to talk. I’m not expecting good news,” he admits.

“Oh, Mulder,” Scully says with a soft laugh. “I shouldn’t have just dropped this on you.” Like he dropped William’s used diaper. It’s still just sitting there, waiting. Much like Mulder here on this couch. “Relax, please. It’s nothing like what you’re imagining. Mom called to inform me that they’ve planned a surprise party for you.”

“A what?”

“A surprise birthday party.” Scully sighs, leaning her head against Mulder’s shoulder. “For you,” she adds, unnecessarily. After all, his birthday is in three days. For the first time in a while, he’s anticipating it. He could do without growing older, but this is his first birthday as a dad. It’s the first time they’re celebrating something together with William, apart from his birth.

“Why?” Scully sighs again and he’s learned that’s not a good sign.

“It’s Bill.”

“Bill? As in Bill Jr.? Your big brother who hates me?”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Scully says, playing with his fingers. He’s no longer shaking and the blood has returned to his extremities. “I think this is his way of apologizing.”

“A surprise birthday party?” He shouldn’t have feared the big D’s. Now it’s big, old brother Bill Jr. he needs to worry about.

“Mom wasn’t supposed to say anything, but she wanted to make sure we didn’t have any other plans.”

“Let’s make plans,” Mulder says. “It’s not too late.”

“It is now. I said we’re home. They all want to meet Will.”

“Who is ‘they’, Scully? How many people are we talking? Will anyone I know and like be at my birthday party?”

“Will and I will be there.” He loves it when she makes a joke, but right now he can’t appreciate it. “My mom, Bill, and his family. A few others.”

“A few others,” Mulder parrots and Scully nods slowly.

“She said she’s not sure how many people will show up.” She bites her lip, glancing up at him. It’s true that they haven’t made any plans, but he’d secretly hoped that they could sleep in. Or as long as William would let them. Have breakfast together as their small family. As though reading his mind, Scully leans up and kisses his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “But here’s something you’ll love. My mom is making you pumpkin pie.” He smiles down at her. He does love Mrs. Scully’s pies.

“Hm.”

“You love pie.”

“That’s not the point.” He leans over, kissing her lips. “But we’ll make it work.”

What choice do they have?

*

This isn’t the first he dreads a birthday; he’s merely thought this year would be different. Two decades ago, for three years in a row, all he wanted for his birthday was to open the door and for his baby sister to be there, grinning at him and yelling surprise.

After that third year – the year his father forgot the day altogether – Mulder gave up. The day became a day like any other. It didn’t matter. Not until Scully. Every year, she brought him a little gift. Even that first year when they barely knew each other. No matter where they were, no matter what else was going on, she always remembered.

A surprise birthday party isn’t the end of the world. Not even one thrown by Bill Scully Jr. It’s been a while since he’s last seen the man. Being dead does have its advantages, too. Scully sent him out an hour ago, not pretending it was for any reason except that the guests could slip in and surprise him upon his return. Scully had kissed him for so long that William had grown impatient in his arms.

That hour has passed in record time and now it’s time to go home. William – strapped to his chest – is half asleep after having seen squirrels and a duck at the park. At least his son is happy, no matter what else will happen today.

“Will,” Mulder says quietly as he reaches for the key in his pocket. “I hope you’re ready. I know I’m not.” He unlocks the door, taking a deep breath.

“Surprise!” A choir of voices greets him and Mulder puts on his best and biggest grin, acting surprised. However, they forgot to let William in on the secret. He hiccups and stuffs his hand in his mouth, drawing several awws from the guests. Then, without any warning whatsoever, he starts wailing.

“Hey, hey,” Mulder says, trying to soothe him.

“Poor baby,” someone says and Mulder nods, for the split of a second believing they mean him. Scully takes the baby from him, who calms down when he sees his mother wearing a colorful, silly party hat. Without his son in his arms, he’s free to be attacked – and people do. Maggie Scully is the first to hug him and press a kiss on his cheek. Then a bunch of women Mulder has never seen in his life proceed to do the same. A few men shake his hand and Mulder just nods and plays along.

“Finally someone I know,” he says when he sees Skinner.

“Mrs. Scully invited me.” And he seems positively tickled by it. “Happy birthday, Mulder,” he says, patting him on the back. That leaves Bill Scully Jr. The other man is wearing a party hat, too. It’s crooked on his head, making him look ridiculous – and like someone who won’t kill him after all.

“Happy birthday, Fox,” he says. Scully’s brother is uncertain whether to hug him or shake his hand and so they perform an awkward dance that ends with their shoulders bumping. “Can I call you Fox? Mom does it.”

“It’s fine,” he says.

“I, um, realize this is not- I figured you’re part of the family now, and well, birthday parties are what we do. Surprised Dana once in college and that was not- not the best idea.” When Bill smiles at him, Mulder warms up the man. His smile reminds him not only of his favorite Scully but also of Melissa. He knows Scully has been missing her sister even more after having William. And Bill is making an effort. He’s trying, so Mulder will be too.

“Thank you, Bill,” he says. “Birthdays haven’t always been easy for me, but I’ve heard a rumor that your mother made pumpkin pie.” The other man’s eyes light up.

“You’re a pie fan, too, huh? Maybe we should talk.”

And that’s what they do. As it turns out, Bill Jr. isn’t an asshole – or not as big an asshole as Mulder might have thought. He meets baby Matthew who – as the boy himself declares – is no longer a baby. He talks to various Scully family members who all knew about him and whose names he’s never even heard. At one point, Scully joins him, standing close to him and stroking his back.

Later, after everyone’s left and most of the chaos is taken care of, Mulder joins Scully in bed where she’s nursing William.

“He slept through most of the party,” Mulder says, sounding envious.

“Are you tired?” Scully asks him quietly, a hand on his arm, and he just nods. “Did you have any fun at all today?”

“I did,” he replies honestly. “Your brother can be fun, Scully.”

“He has his moments.” She’s smiling.

“We’re gonna play basketball on Christmas,” Mulder muses. “Weather permitting. And well, if I’m invited.”

“Why wouldn’t you be invited?”

“I’m not an official member of the Scully family, am I?” He’s asked her. Several times. As much as Bill Jr. may like him now, Mulder is sure that he’d prefer if he made an honest woman of his sister. So does Mulder. He wants to show the world that it’s them. Mulder and Scully, partners in everything.

“You’ll always be a member of my family,” Scully says. “Whether we ever make it official or not.”

“Did I hear a maybe to my marriage proposal?”

“It’s more than a maybe,” she whispers, leaning over to gently kiss him.

“This has been one of my favorite birthdays,” he admits quietly, gazing up at her.

“Let’s make it even better,” she says, kissing him.

[sixosix]

IT WAS ALL BY DESIGN | KAVEH

tags second chance, angst and fluff, time-skips, DARK HUMOR, lovers to exes to lovers again, profanity

written for art @aanobrain, who i made a bloodpact with saying that if i were to write this they’d write me xiao, so here we are. hope u like it art

a/n wc 4K kaveh lore spoilers but i didn’t follow the canon timeline. kaveh meets al-haitham BEFORE the palace of alcazarzaray. also this has two parts

next part

kaveh first saw you when he was presenting his nth draft proposal to his fellow group members.

it’s stressful, it’s a mess, kaveh is lost, and so, so tired. this group is certainly the worst one he’s had yet, but he’s too far deep to back out now.

tamara sighs deeply, like a tired mother, and kaveh’s temper flares, “i understand your need to express your love for aesthetics, but don’t you think that it’s unwise to sacrifice practicality?”

kaveh’s jaw ticks. “sacrifice? i’ve already explained that i’ve thought of every detail to consider. give me something to work on, actual criticism, without just slandering my ideals.”

tamara enjoys insulting his beliefs because she is nothing like kaveh. or maybe it’s because he is nothing like her.

it always is like this. snobs treat his proposals—bursting at the seams with unique ideas yet never neglecting quality—like a joke, and they never get past getting called drafts. he never gets past calling any of his first proposals a success.

“the outside world wouldn’t be as lenient as we had been to your designs, you know,” another of them says. one of his mentors. “tamara is right. we don’t have to get too detailed. here, listen, what if you just change up the strange curve of this wall? and this pillar you…”

outside world, kaveh thinks bitterly. he had already dealt enough with the outside world, but keeping him cornered against a wall he had been building against them was far worse than that.

yet he can’t say this. he’s said enough already. if tamara’s face were to get any redder, he’d lose the opportunity for the materials collectively funded by these people.

kaveh sighs, defeated. “i know. i’m sorry i snapped. i’ll take in your suggestions. what did you say must be removed first?”

“hold on,” one of his group mates speaks up. anis leans her chair over to another table, tapping the shoulder of someone kaveh is sure he’s never damn seen before. “hey, what do you think?”

you squint at kaveh’s work, unfazed by anis interrupting your studies. kaveh doesn’t want to, but he can’t look away. “i don’t understand some of it, but it’s nice. this building would look beautiful in the jungle.”

anis returns the front of her char’s legs on the floor. “ahh, you think?” she muses, handing the paper over to you. “well, an outside perspective is just as important.”

with a pen in your grip, you point at somewhere kaveh can’t quite see, blocked off by the back of the paper. it’s blocked off your face, too. “could use a bit more ornamental flora. too little over here if you’re going to already add it. life doesn’t just come from bright colors, but other forms of life as well.”

“spoken like a true amurta darshan.”

you huff proudly, lowering the paper and revealing your smile. kaveh stares, and stares.

knowing how to appreciate beauty as he does is a trait he has always admired. he secretly takes your suggestions to heart, planning to pull another all-nighter for a few sketches. this is the beauty of the akademiya; why he never gave up as soon as he was first brought down—he learns so much every day.

his heart races just at the thought of it. it’s been days since he felt this.

kaveh wonders if he’ll see you again and doesn’t get much time to think about it again when he’s pulled back to reality, back to yet another proposal that’s been erased so many times, it looks more like a smudge of ink than something kaveh would proudly call his.

kaveh sees you again in the house of daena hunched over a book with your face pinched, sitting next to someone, and he thinks that might’ve been when he fell in love.

but no, that can’t be right. that’s not how love works. it takes time, courage, long nights, restless mornings—this is just him a few feet away from someone whose words he admired.

this must be more like passing by a picture that caught his interest. this must be more fleeting, more like what he deserves, like how the yolk is shaped perfectly on his breakfast for the first time in weeks, how the weather is perfect for smooth construction without disaster, or how his mother did not at least cry too much in a day.

he had only been trying to pass by and continue annotating the book he promised himself to get back to, which happened to be slotted on the shelf in front of your table. it’s sheer luck. and he might’ve taken advantage of it.

the student next to you is speaking. cyno, kaveh recognizes belatedly. “do you get it? because wave could refer to the motion of your hands, but it could also refer to an ocean’s wave, or what is the result of the wind blowing over the surface of—”

you clutch your head. with your eyes off the books scattered across the desk, kaveh sees this as a sign to turn away, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice. it’s pleasant, much more than the ones he hears all the time around him. “please, cyno, have some respect for your senior and have mercy on the bags under my eyes.”

“i am,” cyno says sternly. “i am cheering you up. perhaps it’s because you aren’t under-sand-ing my jokes.”

when kaveh risks a glance, you throw a crumbled paper onto cyno, which he catches with unblinking ease.

“don’t make me call tighnari here,” you threaten, holding a pen to his face.

“is he going to give me pun-ishment?”

“cyno…”

kaveh gets his wits about him again and realizes that he had been picking more books than he needed, just in time to hear more of cyno, unfortunately.

“did you not understand? you see, the word punishment has pun in it, which is what i’m—”

“that’s it.” the sound of a chair sliding across the smooth floor echoes in the quiet halls. “you sit there alone. think about your actions; i’m going to get lunch without you.”

kaveh takes a step forward, you do so backward, and you catch each other’s eyes from the synchronized movement.

somehow, meeting your eyes makes his heart jump to his throat. he can’t tell if this is better or worse than when you were just at a different table and he didn’t have the chance to speak with you.

it becomes a moment too long: kaveh gets nervous, spinning around on his heels and pretending to look for more books. this is unlike him. his head aches trying to think about it.

once you leave, kaveh approaches cyno.

“cyno,” kaveh says with a smile.

“kaveh,” cyno acknowledges. “why were you just watching us? was there something wrong?”

kaveh’s blood drains from his face. “was it that obvious? was it?”

cyno nods. “you’re terrible at acting casual.”

kaveh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ugh—whatever. cyno, hey, listen. that person you were with…”

“y/n?” he tilts his head. “did you need anything?”

“no, no.” kaveh repeats your name in his head, and files it away for later. “do you want to get lunch?” he asks, which he later realizes is an unspoken invitation for a new side of cyno he wishes he didn’t know. the puns hurt his head more than frustrating clients.

kaveh sits by himself in lambad’s tavern, lazily rocking his glass back and forth.

he’s made friends. plenty. but he’s not sure if he can confide in them if he were to go to them in this state.

he thought could consider al-haitham as one, but that blew over on his own face some time ago. it was a mess. kaveh’s not sure which hurt more: when he felt his own spite with how he trembled in spitting al-haitham’s name, or the fact that someone he almost considered a best friend seemed unfazed at all when they both knew that they wouldn’t talk to each other the next day.

al-haitham removed his name from the thesis, and kaveh tore up the copy he had of it. but unlike al-haitham, kaveh couldn’t bear the guilt and pieced them back together.

now they haven’t spoken for a while.

and he sits here, frustrated to the point of near tears.

he’s never felt as lonely as he feels right now, burdened by the stress accumulated from all those years with no one to tell him that he’s doing something right, that he’s going in the right direction. it feels childish, but when he closes his eyes, he can vividly imagine someone patting his shoulder, telling him he’s proud to call him his son, or someone pulling him close, kissing his forehead, telling him that she’d come back for him.

kaveh picks up the glass and takes a long sip.

“are you even allowed to drink?” someone says, too close to him.

kaveh inhales sharply, unfortunately breathing his drink along with it. he chokes on it, and some dribbled past his lips as he turns to the sound of the familiar voice.

you quirk an eyebrow. kaveh wants to gape.

“it’s coffee, and i’m allowed,” kaveh mutters hoarsely, flustered. how long have you been there? were you just watching him?

“but you’re pretending it is alcohol?”

kaveh looks away. he was hoping that no one would notice his dramatics.

“it’s funny,” you tell him. kaveh wasn’t really hoping to appear funny in his sorry state.

you call for lambad and tell him you want your usual. when lambad returns, he hands you a half-full glass of what kaveh could smell as alcohol. maybe he should’ve done the same, but his goal was to feel awake enough to finish his due project, not intoxicated and slurring his words together.

“well?” you turn to him, your cheek against your palm as your arm rests against the counter. “are you gonna act like it and bemoan your regrets?”

students of the akademiya have started to become familiar with the fact that kaveh is a one-of-a-kind genius. names like light of kshahrewar started to circle the halls loud enough for kaveh to hear it from rumors and to his face when they asked to collaborate with him or when they ask for too much of his time.

he was expecting you to do the same. he wouldn’t even blame you if you tried because he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. yes, yes, i want to.

there is no liquid courage here, just the presence of you and his muddled mind finding it far too comfortable.

“my mother remarried,” he says.

you blink, pausing mid-way through drinking your fill. “oh…?”

“i’m happy for her,” kaveh says, confident, firm.

“here’s to that.” you clink your glass against his.

you weren’t taking it as a happy statement. he doesn’t want sympathy, but he knows that whatever you’re thinking is the irrefutable truth. perhaps you were mourning with him because he, too, knows that there’s nothing content about him when he has to reassure himself out loud.

kaveh wants to ask so many questions. he wants to pull out the stacks of papers shoved in his briefcase, ask you what you think of it, listen to you tell him that you understand its beauty, but it’d be more beautiful if he weren’t so afraid and confined in someone else’s ideals. he needs to hear you say it because he knows you’d say the exact same thing as he wants.

instead, he sits quietly, watching you from the corner of his eyes, entranced.

and kaveh—he’s longing. or maybe he’s just starting to feel loneliness. 

“so, what happened between you and al-haitham’s group project?” you ask, wearing a smile that spells out you know exactly what you’re getting into.

“oh, don’t even get me started,” kaveh groans.

the night ends with his heart a little lighter than it was before. (this is still fleeting, right?)

it seems like after that, you’re just everywhere and always by his side. kaveh loves it. especially when he’s too caught up with the world and needs someone to distract him enough to remember that the world is splendid.

despite his desperate attempt at drowning himself in coffee in hopes of being able to remodel at least three rejected drafts, he doesn’t get anything done at all.

he knows that giving in and offering to help out everyone who asks him for it isn’t healthy. he knows it, and he sees the effects on his face, the paleness of his skin, and the mess of his hair.

when kaveh stares his paper down, he can almost see himself on it. not a reflection, but a shadow. it looks like a bird’s nest. he might as well get feathers to go with his hair and complete the look.

someone taps his shoulder, and kaveh somehow doesn’t feel like reacting accordingly. “kaveh, is that you? are you kaveh?” the stranger asks, all in one breath.

it takes him a few seconds. breathing in and out deeply. he turns around, hopes the eyebags on his face aren’t as heavy as they feel, and smiles.

“yes?”

“ah!” he recognizes the student. a few years younger than him. he can’t quite come up with a name right now. “thank goodness. they told me that you could help me with this, i knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”

“oh,” kaveh says, quiet.

if any of his friends were here, they’d glare him down, tell him that he’s going to bleed himself dry if he even thinks about saying anything aside from no. but they aren’t, and kaveh’s heart is bleeding out instead.

“what is it?”

“kaveh!”

you come stumbling in between him and the younger student, whose eyes bulge out of his eyes. he seems to be shaking, if kaveh were to look any closer.

without warning, you throw an arm over kaveh’s shoulder, leaning down to press your chest against his shoulder blade. kaveh’s breath hitches.

you tilt your head to appraise the cowering junior. “oh,” you say, as if not realizing he had been there all along. “daneh. did you need anything?”

“no. no, no, i don’t,” daneh splutters. “i’ll take my leave, i think— i think i should— please excuse me.”

while daneh runs off, kaveh tries to recall his breakfast and the procedure he did in his head to calm down and give himself the boldness to meet your eyes. what is happening to him?

dried fish fillet pan-fried until crispy, served in creamy, white sauce, sprinkled with mint—

“kaveh,” you say. your voice is too close to his ears, which he is sure is turning red.

—kaveh, kaveh, kaveh.

“y/n,” kaveh says, defeated, the grip on his quill faltering. “what was that about?”

he thinks he can feel a grin, and he badly wants to see what it would look like on your face. “i don’t remember telling you my name.”

curiosity wins. kaveh can’t help but smile along with you when he sees it. “you did it on purpose?” then, “cyno told me.”

“you asked around about me?”

“yes, i did,” he says, almost petulantly.

the way your mouth tips to one side more makes your beam come off more smug. “is that so?” you say, and kaveh feels like he’s bared himself to the world. “what’s this?”

kaveh follows where you’re pointing. it’s a mindless sketch he was practicing with; he doesn’t remember drawing half of it. “i was… oh, i don’t know, i just needed a break.”

“this is what you do on your break?” your fingers hover over the page as you trace the curved columns and drooping roof. “green. they look like leaves,” you tell him quietly.

kaveh’s smile turns softer at your sincere awe. “i know.” he wonders what’s going on in your head, then wonders if he’s worth knowing. “what do you think’s missing?”

“i’m no architect, but it could use a bit more of a… splash, you know? color. maybe some—”

“ornamental flora?” kaveh finishes for you. “you’re right. there’s no need to worry about this, though. i must have been on autopilot creating this.”

“straight to the bin it goes? what a shame. it’s stunning.” there’s a seat right there, yet you insist on being pressed against him, bent over, still too close to his ear. you talk about beauty, and kaveh asks himself if you’ve looked at yourself. “i suppose i don’t understand how geniuses work. you are one of a kind, light of kshahrewar.”

then he is suddenly so aware of your hand having trailed upwards, resting on his nape. as you move, your skin rubs absentmindedly on where the hair fades. he shivers.

he hates that title. he feels like he doesn’t deserve any praise he receives at all. yet when you say it—

“you blush a lot,” you point out. kaveh wants to dig a hole and lay there forever. “it’s cute. your expressiveness is charming.”

“don’t—just say that.” his face is so, so red.

al-haitham finds him alone at the same table that night, unable to focus on anything but his racing thoughts. something is wrong with him, he’s sure. he’ll have to pay tighnari a visit and retrace if he’d picked the wrong mushroom.

al-haitham—and kaveh doesn’t know how he’s managed to figure it out so easily—makes a face that would be the closest thing to a smile. “i like y/n,” al-haitham says, out of the blue.

“what,” kaveh says flatly, coiled up like a cat prepared to pounce.

“smart enough to pull you back down and smart enough to make you listen.”

“it’s—” kaveh wants to say it’s not like that, but he goes silent thinking about it. “fuck off. you wouldn’t get it.”

al-haitham tilts his head to the side. “you’re the one not ‘getting it’.”

thankfully, al-haitham leaves him be. they are still on awkward terms, after all.

“oh,” kaveh says intelligently one morning. oh, no.

tighnari’s ear twitches. “the star of the show is here, finally.”

“everyone,” kaveh starts solemnly as the door slams shut behind him. the wind blows, and kaveh’s hair flutters, looking like he came straight out of those films.

“how has dealing with your recent client been looking?” tighnari asks with a smile. cyno and al-haitham nod because they probably didn’t think of even asking that. it’s why tighnari is kaveh’s favorite.

but he is not here to talk about that.

kaveh slams his briefcase on the table, rattling their glasses. “i’m going to confess.”

al-haitham makes a face. “who are we confessing to?”

“not we, al-haitham. stay out of this,” kaveh says. al-haitham’s expression doesn’t change. “i’m going to confess, and it’s going to be so romantic. no one can say no.”

“i would say no.”

kaveh glares, snatching his glass. “al-haitham, just be quiet. the adults are talking. this isn’t about you.”

“you invited us out here,” al-haitham points out.

cyno tilts his head. “to y/n, right?”

“about time,” tighnari sighs.

“yes, to y/n. and what do you mean about—” kaveh huffs, getting red in the face, flustered. “hey, aren’t you guys going to stop me? tell me this is a bad idea and that i’m going to ruin this meaningful friendship i have with y/n?”

“everyone wants you to confess already,” al-haitham says, as if kaveh is stupid for not realizing that. maybe he is.

cyno hums thoughtfully. “if i stop you, i think y/n will murder me with bare hands.”

“oh,” kaveh says, pleased. whatever that means. “alright, then, thank you.” he downs the glass of water—it was al-haitham’s, most likely, judging by the incensed expression on his face—and grabs his briefcase again.

“where are you going— kaveh, hey, where do you think you’re—” tighnari smacks his hand on the table, yelling after kaveh, who’s already by the door.

kaveh’s confession is messy, quick, and probably not as romantic as he had hoped, stumbling over his words and feeling as brave as an infatuated schoolgirl.

“pinning me against the shelf like this is quite the move, kaveh,” you say, and kaveh snaps back to reality. “why are we hiding?”

“sorry,” he splutters, backing off a bit but not enough to have you far from touching him. “i don’t want—someone could see us.”

“now, why are you afraid of that?” you grin, sly enough to make kaveh comprehend that you know exactly what he’s called you over here for. you do the—the thing again, where you trace shapes on his nape, and he shivers helplessly.

“i like you too much,” kaveh says, his face too red to be passed off as sunburnt.

suddenly, all the confidence he thought he had when he left the tavern dissipated. “you know what i mean. can you—no, will you… ugh, i’m not doing it right—”

you meet his gaze, and you don’t look away, the long silence starting to grow distressing for kaveh.

“kaveh,” you say softly, and that’s when kaveh’s expression crumbles. it could be because of how you said it, carving his name with your mouth so tenderly, but really, it’s because he feels like you wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.

“yes.”

…wait.

you cup his cheek, pulling him closer to you by his hips. “yes, yes.”

“wait,” kaveh says, “really?”

you bristle, tilting your head down. are you embarrassed? kaveh feels a thrill run down his spine. “yes. about time—we finally did something about the unbearable tension between us. so, if you’re willing to have me…”

“yes, yes,” kaveh says, to all of that. “god, yes.”

embarrassed, you bury your face on his shoulder. kaveh can’t hide how fast his heart is beating when you’re directly on top of it. when you’re in it. “but listen, kaveh, i don’t know if i can stay here in sumeru forever. and i know it will be hard. so if you aren’t—”

kaveh is too happy to think too hard about that.

“no,” kaveh says, “no, i still want to try. please, let’s try.”

“okay,” you breathe, smiling brightly. “kiss me already, will you?”

kaveh prays and prays and thanks their archon that this isn’t fleeting. don’t let it be, not when he has you, and he has already found out your lips meld perfectly with his.

lord sangemah bay commissions him.

in the first few minutes after dori told him that she could care less about what he wanted to do with the place, kaveh didn’t know what to do with himself. he wanted to do everything, but when all of it comes rushing at once, he’s frozen in place instead.

he takes a step in the direction of the house of daena, then another, and another, until he’s sprinting and his heart is racing enough to have a smile crack across his face.

he spends the night in there. he feels crazy; other students can sense madness in his eyes. they all leave him be, as if they know that once they ask, kaveh will never stop talking.

kaveh feels his wrist sore, but he can’t stop. he wouldn’t be able to if he even tried, not when he thinks of a sinking leaf for a roof, windows shaped like petals, and your words—

kaveh pauses, glancing at the clock that has definitely been spinning faster than he remembered.

it’s sunrise. he gets back to work.

“you’re grinning ear-to-ear,” you say, poking kaveh’s cheek. “you’re not telling me something.”

kaveh isn’t. but only on purpose. he takes your hand and uses it to kiss the back of your palm as he blinks up at you, the embodiment of innocence. “what are you talking about? i told you about it. dori commissioned me, and she said that i’ll be in charge of the approval of the design and the construction process…”

while kaveh explains all this, gesturing wildly with his hands, he trails off when realizing you had just been staring at him fondly. his heart skips a beat or two.

“why—why are you just staring like that?”

“it’s hard not to.”

he kisses you square on the mouth, the blueprint of the palace of alcazarzaray hidden beneath his palms, and he thinks he’s never been happier.

(and under the same stars, the withering slithers in, and everything crashes down faster than kaveh could even say please, no.)

a/n art if you’re reading this i didn’t tell you but this is actually a second chance fic cus i remember you saying it’s one of your favorite tropes 🤧 but anyway ty for reading!

[little-worm-grant]

Steven's pov: Oh Sausages

692 words / Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

Summary: Some lighthearted scatterbrained memories from the mind of Steven Grant and his formative years. Lunchtime edition.

Previously: Steven's pov: Happy Simple Normal Life (Not a necessary read)

Tags: Childhood Memories, Comfort, Fluff, Developing Friendship

The room was abuzz with the noise of conversations going on all around him. Steven didn’t focus on any, or anyone really. Too upset to be paying attention. Even if his favorite pastime was eavesdropping and pretending to be part of a conversation. Today he just wasn’t feeling it.

Staring down at his lunch tray brought back that queasy feeling. In front of him sat eight of the greasiest sausages he’d ever seen and a hamburger beside it. A handful of ketchup packets seemingly sprinkled around like they’d been tossed into the mix. He couldn’t remember picking out any of this stuff, and if he had he’d clearly been on one too many cold medications as of late.

Another boy sat beside him. His words startled him out of his own head. “Sup?”

Steven glanced up at him, unsure why he’d been picked. He didn’t have it in him to ask. “Think they’d let me change my dinner?”

“What’s wrong with your sausages?”

“I don’t really like eating meat.”

���Since when? Every day I’ve seen you pick up as many sausages as they’d let you. I’ve started to think you’re turning into one.”

“I’m not!” He bit back. Realizing he couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat in the lunch hall and did this. Maybe he did eat sausages? His shoulders slumped. “I saw a video about what they do to the pigs. I don’t think I wanna eat meat anymore.”

“Oh.” His companion said. “Well here. Let’s switch. I never have enough for those burgers.”

The other tray was pushed his way. A fruit cup and some veggie sticks looked more tempting than his own tray. Steven didn’t go for anything immediately. Hands under the table pushed his thumbs together a little harder.

“Why are you being so nice?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean like. You don’t know me. But you’re giving me your food.”

“We see each other most lunches? I know you used to like sausages and you socked Tom for messing with me that one time. Good enough for me.”

The boy took his tray and used the plastic knife to start splitting the sausages to put on the burger. Using the packets of ketchup to add on top. Steven had to look away. Instead, he focused on the other tray. Picking up one of the baby carrots to toss in his mouth. He was starving. He pried open the sandwich to check what was in that.

“Oh, don’t eat that, it’s ham. You can pick it off though. Make a carrot sandwich or something.”

“A carrot sandwich.” Steven snorted and smiled a little more.

Lunch went down way better than he could have ever imagined. He’d never had anyone try to befriend him before. They talked about anything and nothing. He didn’t eat the sandwich but the fruit and vegetables should be enough to get him through the rest of the day.

Learned his friend had an annoying little sister and he wanted Steven to come to his house and help him with his chores. That involved eating as many raspberries as he wanted while they berry-picked, so he was definitely going to beg his parents to let him go. By the end of it, the lunch hall was looking much emptier and staff were starting to pack up. The bell rang and his friend got up to leave first.

“Good talk. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake. Don’t miss me too much.”

“Yeah? I mean uh- yeah. Sure thing, sausage boy. Laters gators.” Steven said quickly, getting a laugh. Offering a quick wave before taking both their trays to the cleaning station.

He felt too awkward to have spent a whole lunch with the other kid to correct him now. Didn’t even know his name. It wasn’t like names were a big deal. People got his name mixed up all the time. Could have called him Bob and he’d have answered to it. He felt far lighter in his walk back to class. Excited for the rest of his day. Most of all, he couldn’t wait to go home and tell his mom and dad everything.

[ruggiethethuggie]

Sterling Cooper || Stardew Valley

wc: 2550 tags: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, Sterling Cooper, fluff, first meetings, alcohol consumed (by adults obv), reader is mid 20s, a bit flirty if you ask me hehe, never proofread ~we type and upload

Walking to the local general store was the last thing you wanted to add to your to-do list for the day. If only you had gotten up earlier, then maybe you would’ve noticed sooner that you were out of seeds to be planted for this season. No seeds means no crops, and no crops means you would be struggling to maintain the little level of sanity you had after taking on your grandfather’s long abandoned farm. The autumn season was beautiful here in your new home of Pelican Town. It was much different than the typical rustle and bustle of the city life you had before. But working in the corporate world had become too much stress. Not that this new flourishing farm was any less stressful, but the townspeople were always willing to help and you knew your grandfather would be proud that you were doing this for yourself.

Luckily, the farm wasn’t too far from the heart of the town where all the little stores and businesses were. It was just on the outskirts, maybe a mile or two outside the town limit, but you didn’t mind the walk. Walking was much more pleasant than sitting at a desk all day. Every day you fidgeted in your seat, anxiously awaiting for some way to leave and get out of the hell hole that was the corporate life. If not for that letter you remembered your grandfather had sent you, then you would probably still be stuck, the metaphorical chain still attached to your leg from the desk you were assigned to. It was a huge leap for yourself. Taking on an abandoned farm? Since when did you know anything about farming or crops or profit margins? The truth is that you had zero idea what you were doing, zero idea if this would even work out in the long run, but you wanted to have faith in yourself. You needed this change badly.

You checked your watch, almost 2pm. The store was still open until 5pm, so you had more than enough time to get there. Thankfully, you weren’t noticing your lack of seeds on a Wednesday or else you’d be out of luck until the next day.

The door’s chime bells dinged and donged as you opened the front door of the store and walked inside. Ever since moving to Pelican Town, you had told yourself that if you were going to buy seeds, you weren’t feeding the wallet of that scoundrel, Morris, at stupid Joja Mart down the road. You’d much rather contribute to the small community businesses. The mom and pop shops were always your favorite in the city; here, it was the same. You were no stranger to the aisles of Pierre’s; however, this was the start of a new season. The layout changed a bit each time, making room for the new seeds and items for sale. As you looked towards the counter, you could see Pierre speaking with Mayor Lewis. The conversation looked … intense? More than likely something about taxes and what not, so you didn’t want to really interrupt just to ask where the new season’s seeds would be.

You went down the first aisle, browsing through the shelves. There were so many new fall things that caught your eye, you almost forgot your real reason for coming to the store. As you turned down the next aisle, where hopefully those pesky new seeds were at, you bumped into another who was moving to the aisle you were on. You stumbled back a step or two but were able to catch your balance quickly.

“Oh, gosh! I’m so sorry, miss! I wasn’t looking where I was going. I hope you’re okay.” A hand reached out to assist you from the person you ran into. Clearly neither of you were paying any attention coming around the corner.

You brushed off his extended hand. “No, no. It’s fine! I wasn’t paying attention either, I’m sorry, too. I’m fine though, thank you,” you said with a smile. The man in front of you looked relieved that he didn’t hurt you in the head on collision you two had had. He was wearing a white button up, where the sleeves were so casually rolled up his forearms, with a black apron and a nametag on it. “Oh! Do you work here… Sterling?” you asked as you tried to read the scribbled name on the tag. He patted over his nametag and laughed. “Yeah, I do. Sorry, I know this chicken scratch ain’t the easiest to read. My name is Sterling, Sterling Cooper. And you are?” he asked, his smile was as radiant as the sun outside. “Oh, me? My name is Y/N. I just moved here awhile ago, took on that old farm down the road. It used to be my grandfather’s and he passed it on to me.”

“Ah, so you’re new here, huh?” he chuckled. “I used to live here as a kid and then moved to the city. I just moved back not too long ago either. Ole Pierre was nice enough to let me have my old job back from my teenage years.” As he said teenage years, you stared at him and laughed. He honestly didn’t look that old, but he talked as if he was pushing his 30s. “Teenage years? You mean like 2 years ago?” you jokingly said. He shook his head and snickered at your words. “I know this face looks fresh and new, but I promise I am 27. Those teenage years feel like a lifetime ago.” Twenty-seven? He didn’t really look it, but you were going to take his word. You laughed at his response as you stood there. His sapphire-like blue eyes sparkled the more he smiled. It was hard not to admire him, but you were here for seeds- not some maroon haired, blue eyed store clerk that you just met.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked to break the silence between you two. You noticed he had a cart next to him that was full of new seasonal items. He must be stocking the shelves, I bet he knows where the stuff is at, you thought to yourself.

“Actually, that would be amazing?! I’m looking for some of the new fall seeds so I can get ahead on planting them on the farm. Just some things like artichoke, amaranth, bok choy- oh and pumpkins, of course! It wouldn’t be fall without those,” you chuckled as you read off your small list you had made for yourself.

“Well, let me see here,” Sterling said as he turned around and dug through the cart behind him. He was almost tossing stuff to the side in his search before finally finding a few seed pouches and turning around. “I’ve got the amaranth and bok choy seeds right here, but you’ll have to go down that way to get the artichoke and pumpkin seeds you need.” He offered you 4 small pouches of seeds, which you gladly took from him. “Thank you so much, Sterling! You’re so handsome!” The words just seemed to roll off your tongue without you even realizing it. You stood there like a deer caught in the headlights, embarrassed that you just said that out loud. Sterling, shocked as well, stood there silent with his mouth open- almost as if he was going to respond but couldn’t find the words to say.

Without saying anything more, you hurriedly walked past him and put your head down as you made your way to where he said the other seed packs would be. You could feel your face get hot with anxiety. You told yourself that next time you needed help, you were just going to interrupt Pierre or wait however long it took to get assistance from him. There was no way you would even think about asking Sterling for help again. You picked up the other packs of seed and damn near ran to the front counter. All you wanted to do right now was pay for your things and leave without talking to anyone else, especially not any other store clerks here. 

“This it for you today, y/n?” Pierre said as he took the packs and started ringing them up. “Yeah, for a while at least. Hopefully I can get these planted today and have a good start for the season, y’know?” You spoke the words, but your mind was elsewhere, and Pierre could tell. “You okay? I can get you water if you need, you look like you should sit down or something.” You shook your head at his words, you didn’t need anything more from the store- you needed to go home and plant these seeds and, maybe later, hop into Gus’ bar and relax with a drink or two after today’s efforts. “Well alright then,” Pierre said with a sigh. He gave you your total, and you passed money over the counter. It took everything in you to not snatch the bag from him as you rushed to leave. But before you left, you decided to torture yourself even more and sneak a glance at Sterling, who was still stocking the shelves in the aisles. He was very handsome, there was no denying it, but why, oh why, did you have to say it out loud?

You were standing at your kitchen sink, still cursing yourself internally about being weird at the general store, while you washed the dirt off your hands. The seeds were finally planted- at least one stressor for your day was gone, and with the homemade fertilizer you had whipped up, you hoped that this coming harvest would be bountiful enough in profit to hold you over til the cold winter months were through. After the day you had had, you just wanted to relax, so you changed out of your dirty, farming attire and slipped into some comfy,everyday wear. A nice drink and slice of pizza from Gus’ would make anyone’s day better.

By the time you arrived back in town, it was roughly about 9pm- a young night for those out and about at the saloon. You walked inside and approached the bar. “Oh, goodness! Y/N! Been a bit since you’ve come in, what can I get ya tonight?” Gus cheerily said as you sat down. “Can I get just a rum and coke and then let’s do a slice of that Gus’ famous pizza,” you hummed as you tapped your fingers on the counter. “Comin’ right up!” Gus turned around and started prepping the oven and grabbing an empty bottle to make your drink. The atmosphere was already making you relax; Gus had felt like a long distant uncle since you met him. He was always someone you could rely on that would listen to your woes and try to brighten your day in any way he could, which was usually with that pizza you loved so much.

As Gus put the drink in front of you, out of the corner of your eye you could see another person leaning on the bar as they sat down. “Hey, Gus! Can you get me an ale? Actually- make it two!” the voice sang. It didn’t take long to figure out who the person was that took the seat beside you. “Ah, absolutely, Sterling! Let me check this pizza and I’ll get ‘em served.” Sterling nodded as Gus went about his business and then turned to face you. “Did you get your seeds planted alright? Pierre said you didn’t look so good when you left the store earlier.” He put his hand on his cheek and leaned on the counter, smiling as he waited for you to answer.

“I’m fine,” you said as you glanced over at him. “They all got planted. I just … felt a little light headed. Yeah, lightheaded. But I’m fine now.” You traced the rim of your drink with your finger and then took a sip of it. The awkwardness from earlier in the day was still there for you, but he acted like nothing was wrong- or like you didn’t weirdly blurt out a compliment and run away when meeting him the first time.

“Lightheaded?” Sterling chuckled. “If that’s what you say it was, then I’ll take your word for it.” Gus placed the two ales in front of Sterling and went to the other side of the counter to take more orders from the townspeople waiting. “Don’t think this is a pickup line, but do you come here often?”

“Come here often? Sounds like a pickup line to me,” you teased. “But no, actually, I only come every once in a while- usually when it’s been a long day and I just need to relax. Why? Do you come here often?”

“Wow, first you call me handsome and now you’re asking if I come here often? Was it me that made you lightheaded? I’m flattered.” He grinned at you with a smile so delicious you thought that the few sips of your drink were already clouding your thoughts. As he took a drink of his ale, he could sense you still felt some type of way about the exchange earlier. “I mean, you called me handsome and I couldn’t even say anything before you scurried away. What if I was going to compliment you back?”

“So it was a pickup line. I’m not interested,” you said harshly, your brain and heart pulling you two different ways. “It wasn’t a real pickup line, I swear it,” he said as he held his hand over his heart in sincerity. “But what if I said I was interested? Then what? What if I wanted to tell you that I also think you’re stunning and I’d like to get to know you more, if you’d allow me?”

“Gus, is my pizza ready? Can you box it for me?” You practically shouted as you ignored Sterling beside you. You stood up from your seat and fumbled in your wallet to grab the money for your food and drink. “It’s like that?” Sterling asked with a surprised look on his face. “I have to get back to Shane anyway, he’s probably laughing at my failed attempt right now. I hope I’ll see you around though.” You watched him from the corner of your eye get up from the counter and grab the two drinks and walk over towards the fireplace where you could see Shane standing. 

As Gus took the money you handed him and put the box in your hand, he didn’t let go of it. You looked up at him confused. “He’s a nice guy, really. Been through some hard times, but I wouldn’t cross him off your list just yet.” He gave a wink to you and let go of the pizza box. “Thanks, Gus,” you said quietly. You looked over your shoulder at Sterling and Shane, laughing and drinking their ale together. The way he looked when he was happy, smiling and laughing, it was like sunshine in human form. You downed the remaining bit of your drink, which truthfully wasn’t even that much, and left the saloon with even more on your mind than before you came in.

© please do not copy and or repost my work as your own, my brain is massive and these are my thoughts.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Over The Rainbow (4/4) - Janus

<- Previous |

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Notes:

Sorry this has taken me so long!! I lost motivation to work on this for a while, especially with so many other projects going on in the background :(.

I know that I origonally marked this as five chapters, but I honestly don't remember what I planned for the fifth chapter to be and have no ideas for it, so I've marked it as complete after this one - if I ever do write another chapter I'll add it, but right now it's complete as is.

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“Hey fuckers listen up,” Remus yelled, banging open the door of Roman and his shared room, making just about everyone who had been in there jump. 

“What the fuck was that for?” Virgil hissed, rubbing the back of their head where they’d bumped it on the headboard of Roman’s bed.

“Language!” Patton chastised from his spot in Roman’s lap at the other end of the bed - he’d been braiding Roman’s hair idly. Logan just sighed from where he sat at the desk. 

“Whatever, there’s this huge party the Pride Society is putting on over the weekend and you guys are going,” Remus said, slamming a flyer down in front of Logan, who picked it up tentatively. 

“Why would we go?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow, “I don’t believe any of us are really ‘party people’”

“It’s not just about the party, book-germ, it’s about gay shit! And you guys are like! The gayest shit around,” Remus rolled his eyes, “Not only are you all super gay, Virgil and Pat are non-binary and Roro is the most gender non-conforming bitchass hoe I’ve ever seen, so like, you guys should totally go to the pride party, besides, I’m going with a friend and I want you idiots to meet.”

“...oookay?” Roman said, frowning, “I don’t mind going to a cool pride party if you guys don't?”

“Oh sure!” Patton grinned, “It sounds like fun!”

“Here is the flyer, if you would all like to read it,” Logan said, leaning over to pass the piece of paper to Patton, “I’m not interested in drinking, but attending the party itself will not hurt anyone, though it is black tie, does everyone have suitable outfits?”

Virgil groaned dramatically, “Fine if the rest of you are all so interested in going, I guess I’ll tag along, I’ve… got something.”

“Translation for those who don’t speak introvert,  ‘I really want to go but didn’t want to be by myself so I’d love to go with you all’,” Remus crowed, giggling as Virgil shot him a dirty look from across the room, “Now I just gotta convince my friend to go with me! C’y’all at the party!”

With that, Remus ran from the room. Logan sighed.

“My goodness, what have we just signed ourselves up for?”

—

“How do I look, everyone?” Roman asked, twirling around in his sparkly red knee-length dress, sparkling similarly to his matching red stilettos. 

“Roman, those shoes do not look safe.” Logan sighed from where he stood near the door in a pristine navy blue button down shirt - adorned with a rainbow tie. 

“I’ll be fine,” Roman rolled his eyes, the puffy sleeves of the dress floating around his wrists as he gestured, “I’ve worn them plenty of times before - Oh! Patton! You look simply dashing!”

Patton giggled, ducking their head to hide their blush as they stepped out from behind the door wearing pale blue suspenders over a white blouse - the plaid blue skirt they had hesitantly chosen looked adorable on them. 

“Thanks Roman! I love your dress!” Patton gasped, “You look so pretty! You too Logan!”

Now it was Roman’s turn to blush, “Wny thank you!” 

“Have either of you heard from Virgil?” Logan asked, once they’d finished gushing over each other’s outfits, Roman couldn’t help but frown. 

Patton shook their head, “Oh- I actually haven’t, that’s… worrying.”

“Do you think they chickened out?” Roman asked.

“That’s not a nice way to phrase it,” Logan chastised gently, “But I do worry that they got anxious.”

Just as they started to thorise on what they could do to get Virgil to come, there was a knock on Roman’s door. Roman rushed to open it and then gasped as he stepped back to reveal Virgil at the door. Their white hair was done up and secured with a silver pin, they wore a dark purple suit jacket and dress pants with a white blouse underneath and they even carried a different cane than the one they normally had. Not to mention the makeup they wore was immaculate. 

“Oh darling, you look beautiful!” Roman said, rushing forward to kiss Virgil, who grinned as they used the red lipstick Roman had left on their lips to colour them - and just that moment Roman realised they’d not been wearing lipstick before, he gasped, “You! You fiend! Using my kisses like that!”

Virgil smirked at him and stepped past Roman into the room. Patton rushed forwards next and wrapped their arms around Virgil carefully, “You look lovely! We were starting to think you weren’t coming!”

“Sorry,” Virgil chuckled, looking a little bashful, “I was struggling to shrug off my roommate.”

“Well I daresay you look wonderful,” Logan said, patting Virgil’s shoulder, “Would this make us ready to head out?”

—-

The party wasn’t a big collage party like the ones hosted by students. It was hosted by the Pride Society, which meant it was hosted on campus with slightly less alcohol and deafening music involved. Which, honestly, might be a little better with their little group - with Logan and Virgil who got overwhelmed with loud noises and tight environments and Patton, who wasn’t a fan of drinking. It was more ‘chill’ - said Logan, pulling a flashcard out of his shirt pocket - and Roman was fine with that. 

The music was decent and they had a buffet and everyone here was either queer or an ally - many people had come along with their soulmates like their little group though they had ended up a little in the spotlight. A group of four soulmates was fairly rare, after all. 

“I wonder where Remus is?” Patton said as they guided their group towards an empty table near the buffet. 

“Who knows, honestly,” Roman rolls his eyes.

“I do not see him, it is likely he hasn’t arrived yet.” Logan pointed out.

“Maybe he’s having trouble with that friend?” Virgil suggested, leaning their cane up against the table before looking around at the others. 

“Oh yeah, maybe,” Roman said, looking around the room - they had gotten here just a short while after the start time - so the room hadn’t really filled up yet anyway, “He said he had to convince them, right?”

“Mhm - they’re likely not here yet, we should give it time,” Logan told them, “Meanwhile, shall we gather food from the buffet?”

“Oh sure, I’m kinda hungry,” Roman nodded, the others nodded.

“I’ll look after the table,” Virgil said, “Um - you know what kind of stuff I like, Ro, just grab me a plate.”

“I’ll stay here with Virge!” Patton smiled, clearing not wanting to leave their fourth soulmate alone, Logan nodded.

“In that case, Roman and I shall grab food for the both of you as well.” Logan said, leaning over to kiss Patton’s cheek before getting up and heading over to the buffet with Roman.

The two at the table were quickly joined by Remus, though Roman noted that his friend did not seem to be present. He paid that no mind, however, working on collecting plates of food for himself and Virgil. That was until he bumped into someone.  

“Oh - sorry, I-” Roman said, looking up to meet the person’s eyes only to stop short, “...yellow,” he whispered.

“Excuse me?” The person said, one of their eyes was a misty yellow, the other was green, which must have been cancelled out by Logan’s, they seemed to look him over, his expression unreadable, “You - Oh- oh wow.”

“You’re yellow,” Roman said. If his hands weren’t full with the plates he was holding, “The others will be so excited! Oh my goodness, come on-”

“Will you let me grab some food first,” The person said, raising an eyebrow - the smile on his face suggested a tease, though, Roman couldn’t help but blush.

“Right, of course - sorry, sorry - just got excited,” He chuckles awkwardly. 

“Your dress is gorgeous,” The person said, to make conversation.

Once more smiling, Roman looked them over, “So is yours, yellow is such a beautiful colour.”

“What’s your name?” he asked with interest in his tone. Roman had to tear his eyes away from the knee length yellow dress the person was wearing with a black turtleneck underneath - they looked beautiful. Their face was half taken up by a large birthmark and his blond hair was tied back elegantly under a hat tied with a yellow ribbon. 

“Oh- I- Uh- Roman,” he said, now he was definitely blushing, “It’s Roman, what about you?”

“My name is Janus,” He said with a smile and slight tilt of his head that made Roman feel just a little weak in the knees, “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Lovely to- lovely to meet you too!” Roman practically squeaked, “Um - the others, uh, everyone else is over there,” 

He pointed to their table, where Logan had returned and joined the conversation, “With my brother.”

“Remus, I know,” Janus smiled, “He brought me here - said he had a surprise for me, I suppose that was you, hm?”

“I- I guess?” Roman said, every ounce of verbal ability leaving him in the face of such a tone. 

“Well then what a lovely surprise it was,” Janus hummed, “Here, let me help you with that.”

Janus took the drink Roman had poured for Virgil in their free hand and let him lead the way back to their table. He was glad they had grabbed one of the bigger ones in the room now. 

 “Heya Roman! Who’s this?” Patton asked, looking up when Roman returned to the table with Janus in tow, they seemed to have switched mid sentence from where they had been talking to Logan, leaving him looking confused.

“This is Janus, and uh- I’m pretty sure he’s our last soulmate,” Roman said, returning to his seat next to Virgil and letting Janus take the one at the head of the table next to him. 

Janus sat and looked around at everyone, earning a range of gasps and ‘oh’s from all three of them as their eyes met.

“See?” Remus said, grinning from the other end of the table, “Told you this party was worth going to.”

Yeah, Roman thought as he looked around the table - seeing Janus start up a conversation with Logan and Patton whilst Virgil watched with interest. He was glad they had come to this party. Roman was so happy to have all of his soulmates with him at last. 

That didn’t mean that Remus wasn’t going to get an earful from him for hiding this from them for however long he and Janus had been friends, though. 

For now, he really just wanted to enjoy this party and get to know his new soulmate. Maybe afterwards they could all go back to Logan’s dorm and cuddle, or hang out at his if they wanted to deal with Remus. Roman just wanted to spend time with them - all of them, now that he could finally see the full rainbow. 

He could finally finish the painting he had been working on this whole time. 

The painting of all five of them, dressed up in their colour, the painting that represented his soul and all of theirs, a painting for them all to share and be part of. The painting of Roman’s life. 

It would be perfect. 

---

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 ( if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[elisysd]

Out of the Woods

Cruel Summer Masterlist

Charles teaches Lyanna how to drive

Remember when you hit the brakes too soon?

“I’m really not sure about this Charles. Like, not at all.”

“Hey you passed the theory easily, love. First try may I add, and we worked together on the sim for so many hours, you’ll be fine. I promise. And you have me as your teacher, nothing can go wrong.” Charles tried to reassure her.

“So many things can go wrong. I can crash us both and then Julia will be an orphan. And Pierre will be in charge of taking care of her. Pierre, Charles! Pierre! What went wrong in our heads to decide that he would be a great godfather?”

“He is a great godfather! He is spoiling her. But really, breathe, love. It will be fine, you got this.”

“I’m scared, Charles.”

“I’m right here Lya and if something goes wrong, I’ll take the wheel. But I trust you.”

“Why didn’t we try an empty parking lot for my first time? Why did it have to be the track of the Monaco GP?”

“Because if you can manage it, love, you’ll manage anything.”

“Easy for you to say.”

When Lyanna told Charles a few months ago that she wanted to get her driver’s licence so it would be easier to drive Julia to school as they were living on the side of Monaco, Charles had not given her any other choice but to be her instructor. Whenever he got a little time between two races he had taken his role very seriously making Lyanna train on his simulator for two hours per day until he deemed her ready to hit the road. And the day had finally come.

Charles tried his best to reassure her, telling her that they would go easy for the first time. But to Lyanna, easy definitely didn’t mean the track of the Monaco GP. She knew it pretty well because of Charles and the amount of time they had spent driving along, both together and then with Julia. She didn’t know it by heart, of course, but she roughly knows the turns and where they were.

“How can you trust me with your Pista?” she asked with a shaky voice.

“I trust you with my life, love.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Come on drama queen, start the engine and let’s go.”

And she did as told. And off they were. the first few kilometers went well, at least, in her opinion. They managed to get inside the Monegasque traffic without too much inconveniences and there were no crashes in sight. Little by little, Lyanna was starting to relax. Charles, to her surprise, was not saying much, just giving her a few instruction here and there.

“Lya?” he ended up saying as they were near Sainte-Devote.

“Yes?”

“You know you drive at 30 kmph? You can go up to 50.”

“Isn’t it a bit too fast though?”

“it’s really not, love.”

She sighed and sped up as Charles told her. Two hours later and after multiple laps around Monaco, they came back home. Lyanna could already see the improvements and she was actually proud of herself for overcoming her fears. And Charles was not that bad. As they both were getting out of the car and Lyanna gave back his car’s key to her husband, a mini brunette tornado came crashing in her dad’s arms full force.

“Daddy! Mommy! You went vroom vroom without me!”

“Daddy is teaching mommy how to be an as good driver as him.” explained Lyanna as Pascale was coming through the door to greet them.

“Does it mean that you are going to leave me to go with daddy?”

“No my princess, mommy is learning how to drive so she can take you out for ice cream when daddy is away.”

“So cool!”

“What were you doing? And how was school?” asked Charles.

“She was watching Pierre’s win in Monza.” told Pascale making the little girl blush.

“Why are you watching uncle Pierre and not daddy?” Charles was faking to be offended.

“She loves the broadcast. It’s making her laugh. And she needed that after her school day.”

“What do you mean? What happened?” Worried Lyanna as she was bending down to look at her daughter, afraid she had been hurt.

“I wanted to play tag with other girls. And they told me no.”

“Why?” asked Charles.

“They said I’m weird because I don’t play with dolls with them. And I prefer cars. But then boys don’t want to play with me because I’m a girl.”

Lyanna could see Charles’ jaw harden, after hearing that. But it didn’t seem to bother Julia that much. As she was explaining further how she was cast aside by her classmates, she simply shrugged and said that it didn’t matter, she knew how to have fun by herself. Still, Charles and Lyanna’s hearts broke a little.

The next day, the parents dropped her at school, not without crossing paths with Max who was dropping Ethan. The Dutchman shot a death glare to Charles on the way that Charles reciprocated. Both of them didn’t forget the biting incident that happened a few months ago. It was well known in the paddock, ever since, that putting them both in the same room was only resulting in petty comments towards one another. Thankfully, they didn’t try to kill each other on track. At least, not yet.

When they finally left Julia at school, Lyanna took her place behind the steering wheel and drove off to an empty parking lot.

“I’m going to teach you how to park today.” said Charles very seriously.

“You what?”

“Teach you how to park?”

“Sorry I thought you were serious being for a moment.” she laughed as he gave her a puzzled look. “You can’t park to save your life Charles.”

“Hey! I got better with time!” he defended himself.

They spent an hour trying to park the car in different conditions and positions and to Charles surprise, she was good. Really good. Better than him that’s for sure. Not that it was hard.

Days passed and training sessions with Charles resumed. When Lyanna finally felt ready she passed her test and got her result a few weeks later. Charles was not there but she decided to sent him as screenshot telling him that she finally had her driver’s license. Charles was so proud of his wife that he didn’t hesitate much before adding her as a driver on his car assurance contract.

If at first Lyanna was scared to use the Pista, even more with Julia, she quickly got back her confidence. Driving around Monaco was not the hardest thing to do when you knew when the traffic was hectic and when you were used to the city. And Lyanna never really needed to use the car that much, only to bring Julia to school and to pick her up. As for the groceries, she avoided going and would rather use the delivery option. It was easier and it prevented people from stopping her in the alleys to ask for a picture. But today, she had promised to Julia they would bake a cake together and she needed ingredients.

The supermarket parking lot was more crowded than usual and Lyanna had to spent at least 15 minutes turning and turning in the hopes of finding space. She finally found one away from the entry of the shop and tried to park the Pista. It was not easy, the space was not very big and the car next to her was not very well parked. But after a small amount of tries, which she was very proud of, she finally managed to park the car.

She tried to be quick, not wanting to spend more time than necessary in the supermarket. She bought what she needed and even added to her cart sweets for Julia and make her way to pay. Once done, she got back to the car and almost had heart attack when she saw a scratch on the driver side door. Panic started to take over her body when she will have to explain to Charles how she managed to scratch his beloved car. But she knew the sooner she let the cat out the bag, the better she would feel.She checked her phone and texted him to know if she could call him before putting down her phone on the passenger seat and making her way back home.

When she pulled up in the driveway, she saw a notification from her husband popping up. She sighed, get out of the car, took out the groceries from the trunk and went back home. After putting everything in the cupboards and cleaning the kitchen area, she sat on the couch and called Charles.

“Hey, love. Everything’s alright?”

“Hey… no, not really. I have something to tell you.”

“Lya, you are scaring me. Are you okay? Is Julia okay? Did something happened?”

“Yeah, yeah we are okay. Don’t worry. I can’t say the same about your Pista though.”

The was a long silence at the other end of the line and Lyanna was bracing herself for the scolding.

“What happened?” he slowly said.

“I went grocery shopping. I parked the Pista, everything went well but when I came back there was a scratch. I’m sorry, I should have been more careful, the two cars were not parked well and I should have known that it could happen and…”

“Lyanna! For fuck’s sake!” he cut her.

“I’m sorry!” she was on the verge of crying.

“I thought it was worse than that! Don’t scare me like that. I thought something happened to you for a minute.”

“So you’re not angry?”

“If you’d know how many times something like that happened to me, love… Don’t worry about the Pista okay. How is Julia by the way, where is she? I want to see my princess.”

“Julia?” repeated Lyanna.

She suddenly looked up at the hour and gasped.

“Oh fuck! With everything that happened, I forgot her at school!”

“Lyanna!”

================

taglist

@zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali @blueflorals @aundercover @ruleroftheuniverse @fangirlika @writerscurse @elijahmikaelsonbitch @leclerc13 @karmabyfernando @stargaryenx @pitlanebabe @boiohboii @reengard @shikshinkwon@smoooothoperator

[orchidyoonkook]

Do you have any tips for new writers/accounts to get popular???

Hello!!!!!

SO:

I was a shit writer for a very long time cuz I never wrote. But one day I wanted to change that so at 19 I made up a story and wrote down all my plot points and then did a DEEP DIVE on Pinterest of all things collecting every bit of advice I could. I’m talking ideas, how to do this, how to not use the word said, how to start sentences. How sentences should flow and their lengths, big uncommon words. EVERYTHING.

Anything and everything I could get my hands on. 

And on top of that I’ve been a reader for forever. I have so many books I don’t even know how many I have. And so I use that knowledge when editing. I don’t read it from a writing POV after I write it. I turn into a reader and think about how I would feel about it from a readers POV and if something doesn’t work. I fix it.

I have a small background in script writing from my college days which definitely helped a bit. But if you’ve ever studied script writing you know it doesn’t really help creative writing outside of structure.

And when I write I’m someone who writes until I think the story is done. Not the arc. Not the characters. But the overall story of what I’m trying to portray. I don’t actively think about putting the climax of the story here or some foreshadowing there. I write intuitively if that makes sense. I try to sense out what feels right. And some of that comes naturally, some of it doesn’t and I have to work on it.

Me and @violetsiren90 were actually talking roughly about this last night. Our differences in how we write and how my advice from her last fic that I edited had already helped her with her new one cuz she can now see all of the little things that I pick up on from my style of writing versus the times where she tells me why she writes in that specific way and why she will be keeping it as is. Vi if you wanna add anything in the comments I’m forgetting, by all means feel free.

Most writers will tell you to practice. To tell you to write something even if it’s just a sentence everyday. But that didn’t help me. The stuff on my blog are the very first things I’ve written for myself ever. I didn’t write in highschool or college outside of what I was forced to write and my one story that the Pinterest board was initially for.

For me it was about researching style and reading posts like these from other writers, being confident in your style and learning what rules to break and when to break them. It was about reading over your work a hundred times and to be impartial when you read so you can fix the mistakes that won’t work.

The benefit of writing is you can go over something you’ve written a hundred times until you think it’s ready. A thousand times. I can go back and rewrite that first story if I want too. Nothing can stop me.

But don’t get me wrong. I go back and read all my works on here from time to time and I still constantly find things I would change now. Word changes. Phrasing changes. Everything. But that’s just another sign of improvement. Writing is a constantly improving art form. There is no limit. Only growth.

And the last thing I do is write down everything. I have a TERRIBLE memory. So I write down every single idea. On a scrap piece of paper. In my phone. On a computer. In a notebook. Cuz you never know when you’ll use it.

My most recent story, The Devil Wears Valentino, I got the idea for that name sometime in the immediate aftermath of Valentino Yoongi. I was in the shower after watching the devil wears Prada and my mind just connected the two. And then it sat unused in my notes all until the week before Halloween 2023. I would’ve forgotten had I not written it down. But there it was right when I needed it, a gift from past me. And here we are.

As for popularity, dude I have no goddamn idea. I don’t even think I count as a popular/big blog. I utilize the HELL out of aesthetics, formatting and tags and I’m nice. That’s my spiel on that. Aesthetic. Format. Tag. Kindness. Talent, sure. I guess. But writing is one of those things, ESPECIALLY in fic, where it doesn’t have to be the best cuz folks just wanna read their comfort character or person in the same scenarios over and over again. Source: I do that. And I’ve read stories that don’t have the best writing. But the story was good, or vice versa. People are way more forgiving on here.

I didn’t come on here(tumblr) with the intention of writing let alone giving writing and popularity advice. I just wanted to read and support people and then the community I’ve built for myself has just grown and grown and I’ve been so incredibly fortunate, which is where kindness comes in.

Leave reviews and like and reblog stuff. Tell people how much you love their work. Let them know you write too. Create friendships with people who wanna support you. And people who you wanna support. Community is the base of everything.