#Year:816

[ruikamo]

Day 1 "Getting up in the morning" ~ OC: Stella Zarachos ~ Year: 816

It's October yayyy!! I have been worldbuilding just for myself for a while now and every autumn I get inspired to finally draw some characters. So I thought it would be fun to participate in OC-tober as much as I can this year. (We'll see how much time I have ^^') For that I wanna mix some prompt lists and I'll start with a prompt by @thepromptfoundry. I'm looking foward to the event! :) I am also still trying to figure out a quick style to color my sketches, so the illustrations will not be of very high quality ^^' But maybe I can come back to some of them at a later time and refine them?

Also, I want to share some kind of fun-fact with every drawing I post. For Stella here, it's that she is very devoted to her religion and will probably pray to the moons right after getting up. (PS: If you are interested, I collect everything about this world under the hashtag #Tales of Silvalien. :))

[messrsrarchives]

look at my spreadsheet n tell me he looks pretty RIGHT now 😖😖

look at him

[misaerabl]

cute abby new years fic pleaseee

“New Year, Same Feelings”

CONTENT: wc... 816 ✦ not proofread, fluff, new years special

The WLF base had its own way of celebrating. It wasn’t glamorous—just dimly lit hallways crammed with people, cheap beer passed from hand to hand, and music loud enough to drown out the war-torn world outside. Despite the chaos, there was a strange comfort in it. People laughed, cheered, and lived like tomorrow wasn’t a question mark.

You stood near the wall, nursing a drink and watching it all unfold. The party felt distant, even with the noise and movement pressing in on all sides. It wasn’t the kind of scene you usually gravitated toward, but Abby had insisted you come.

Speaking of Abby, she was impossible to miss. Center stage, as always, her laughter rose above the din, loud and infectious as she arm-wrestled one of the newer recruits. She won, of course, sending her opponent stumbling back with a playful shove before raising her arms in victory. People cheered, and she soaked it in, grinning like she owned the place.

But then her gaze flicked over to you.

You stiffened under her scrutiny, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she handed off her beer to someone and started weaving through the crowd toward you. Her cheeks were flushed—not just from exertion but from the alcohol she’d been steadily consuming all night.

“Hey, you,” she greeted, plopping into the seat next to you without waiting for an invitation. Her voice was warm, slightly slurred. “You’ve been over here all night. What’s up with that?”

“Just enjoying the view,” you said, raising your glass in a half-hearted toast.

Abby smirked, leaning back in her chair and stretching her legs out in front of her. “You mean the view of me kicking everyone’s ass? Go on, admit it. You’re impressed.”

“I think you’ve had too much to drink,” you teased, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Not an answer,” she countered, her tone playful but her gaze intent.

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, she tilted her head, her expression softening in a way that caught you off guard.

“Do you ever think about me?” she asked suddenly, her voice quieter now.

You frowned, caught off guard. “What?”

“When I’m not around,” she clarified, still watching you. “Do you ever... I don’t know. Wonder what I’m doing? Or think about me at all?”

The question sent your thoughts spinning. “Abby, you’re drunk,” you said carefully.

“Doesn’t mean I’m lying,” she shot back, her brow furrowing. “Come on, just answer me. Do you?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t the kind of question you could brush off with a joke, and Abby, drunk or not, wasn’t the type to let it go.

“Yeah,” you admitted finally, your voice low. “I think about you.”

She blinked, like she hadn’t expected you to actually answer. Then she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Good,” she murmured, her grin returning, softer this time. “Because I think about you all the damn time. And it’s driving me crazy.”

Your stomach twisted. This wasn’t the Abby you were used to—the confident, steady presence who never let her guard down. This was raw, unfiltered Abby, her usual walls stripped away by the alcohol.

“Abby...”

“I’m serious,” she interrupted, sitting up straighter. “Do you have any idea what it’s like? Seeing you every day, trying to act normal when all I wanna do is—”

She stopped herself, running a hand through her hair and letting out a frustrated sigh. “You know what? Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Wait—”

“No, really,” she insisted, standing abruptly. “This was stupid. I’m just drunk and saying stupid things, so let’s just pretend—”

“Abby, stop.”

She froze, her wide eyes meeting yours. The noise around you seemed to fade as you stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you said, your voice steady despite the chaos inside you.

The countdown started in the background—ten seconds to midnight. Abby’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but the vulnerability in her gaze didn’t waver.

“You mean that?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Yeah,” you said. “I mean it.”

The countdown reached its climax, and the room erupted into cheers as the clock struck midnight. People shouted, laughed, kissed—but all you could focus on was Abby.

She let out a shaky laugh, her breath misting in the cold air. “New year,” she said, a hint of her usual humor creeping into her tone. “Same feelings, huh?”

You smiled, the tension in your chest easing just a little. “Something like that.”

Abby laughed again, this time more genuine, and before you could overthink it, you reached out, your hand brushing against hers.

“Let’s talk about this again tomorrow,” you said softly. “When you’re sober.”

She nodded, her fingers curling around yours. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

For now, though, it was enough just to be here, together, standing at the edge of something new.

[pucksandpower]

Charles Leclerc x revenge era!Reader - Social Media AU

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift, and 2,934,568 others

yourusername i never trust a narcissist but they love me

View all 5,721 comments

taylorswift karma is a god ❤️

gridgossip so we all think the ferrari is a diss at max, right?

trulytifosi and i am 100% here for it

kendalljenner welcome back! it was boring without you on here

theshaderoom we’re ready for whatever drama comes next 👀

voguemagazine

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 485,893 others

voguemagazine Y/N Y/L/N is ready to start over.

After an emotionally turbulent few months, the model and actress is slowly beginning to find her center. For Vogue's April issue, Y/L/N opens up about the journey to putting herself first, the lessons she learned through heartbreak, what she yearns for in a relationship, and why she’s taking it day by day.

Vogue, April 2023

View all 816 comments

y/nfanclub this is about to be one of the best comebacks in history

y/nlover she could stick her stiletto through my throat and i’d thank her

y/nfanclub that’s a little extreme but i love your enthusiasm

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 2,368,594 others

yourusername i don't regret it one bit 'cause he had it coming

View all 4,839 comments

taylorswift don’t get sad, get even 😉

yourusername i learned from the best

f1wagupdates y/n is in her princess diana revenge dress era only instead of a dress it’s a ferrari jacket

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 2,417,865 others

yourusername i get mystified by how this city screams your name (literally)

📍 Circuit de Monaco

View all 5,163 comments

charles_leclerc were you screaming my name as well?

yourusername of course, i’ve had lots of practice

f1wagupdates did they just?

gridgossip uh huh

f1wagupdates and imply that they …

gridgossip slept with each other? sure looks like it 🍿

scuderiaferrari monaco always loves charles but they love him even more after winning his first home race 🍾

f1wagupdates she's an icon, she is a legend, and she is the moment

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and 1,528,974 others

charles_leclerc the true prize came after the podium

View all 3,825 comments

f1wagupdates charles “mr. steal your girl” leclerc

yourusername i was not anyone’s girl for him to steal in the first place. the only thing he stole was my heart

feralferrari first charles gets the girl, next he gets the championship 🤞

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, selenagomez, and 2,478,629 others

yourusername all along there was some invisible string tying you to me

View all 4,831 comments

danielricciardo max just threw his phone at the wall

danielricciardo to be clear, i am a y/n stan first and max’s friend second

honeybadgered valid 💯

f1wagupdates they look so good together

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 1,506,912 others

charles_leclerc i promise to buy you flowers and hold your hand. give you all my hours when i have the chance. take you to every party because i know how much you love to dance. do all the things he should have done when he was your man

View all 3,048 comments

yourusername the start of the year might not have been smooth sailing but i am so grateful for every obstacle i faced because they led me to you and i can’t imagine waking up next to anyone else every morning

charles_leclerc maybe we should send a certain red bull driver a thank you basket for indirectly getting us together

yourusername you’re evil and i love it

charles_leclerc what can i say? you’re rubbing off on me

y/nfanclub i’ve never seen y/n this happy before so thank you for making her smile again 🥹

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, and 2,894,576 others

yourusername your eyes look like coming home

View all 5,192 comments

charles_leclerc home is no longer just a place, it’s wherever you are

yourusername i am the luckiest girl in the world to have found my soulmate in you

lonelyleclerc bathing with a toaster, sleeping on the highway, throwing myself head first into an active volcano

zendaya look at you literally glowing. i’m so happy for you both 💕

[natsarrownecklacx]

Your Love For Her

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 816

Summary: You've loved her for years, but you never could find the right way to tell her until now.

Warnings: Smut, 18+ fic, thigh riding, fingering. fluffy smut (if that's even a thing) Lmk if i missed anything.

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

You stumble forward, blindly trusting your hazy senses to lead the woman in your arms to be pressed between your body and the hallway wall. Your hands, as if with a mind of their own, trailing over every conceivable inch of her body. 

She doesn’t talk at first, too enamored with the feeling of your hands on her, the taste of your lips on hers and the look in your eyes every time you manage to pull yourself away long enough to take her in. 

You move your hand up her bare thigh, teasing her by trailing it just a little higher than the middle of her thigh. She says your name, coming out in a breathy whisper, a plea. “Y/n.”  You snap your eyes to hers, her green orbs desperate and drowning in arousal.

“You’re so pretty.” You whisper, inching forward to capture her lips again, slow and intentional. You need her to know she means something to you, that you feel for her more than words can say. You need her to feel it.

You swipe your tongue over her bottom lip and she grants you access immediately, eagerly deepening the kiss. Your tongue slides into her mouth, causing the brunette to moan, her knees buckling beneath her while hot arousal pools in your abdomen. 

God she makes the prettiest sounds. 

Your hand trails higher, rubbing soothing circles on the inside of her upper thigh, just a breath away from where she wants it. Your lips tug up at the corners as she slides her arms over your shoulders, a needy whine falling from her lips .

She pulls you in to straddle her thigh, wanting to feel even closer to you, needing to feel just how affected you are by her. She gasps, her lips hovering over yours, her voice soft as she mummers. “You're so wet.” 

You can only nod in response before leaning in to press your lips against hers again. Your hand moves, putting pressure between her legs and she gasps, never imagining such a simple touch could make her hold body light up. She’s so wet, arousal dripping into your hand before you've even really touched her.

Wanda moves her hips against you, grinding back and forth on the palm of your hand, keeping her mouth on yours as she whimpers at the feeling. Her arms lock behind your neck, keeping you in place against her as you slide two fingers inside of her. Her head slams back against the wall, a moan falling from her lips. You bring your mouth to her neck, leaving hot, open mouth kisses as you start to move against her thigh. Both of you moaning at the idea of getting off on each other, together, causing the heat in your stomachs to burn brighter. 

Wanda tenses the muscle between your legs, drawing a whine from your lips, it just feels so good. She tilts her head back to you, her eyes half hooded with pleasure as she takes in your disheveled form. “Wanda.” You say, your voice pleading for her to understand, but it's your eyes that tell her everything she needs to know, your love for her showing through them as clear as day. 

“Oh, baby.” She whispers in realization, leaning in to place a loving kiss on your lips. She understands now. You love her. You need her. She's your safe place, your home. 

The thought alone sets a wave of arousal shooting through her. The pleasure she’s feeling is too much, the drag of your fingers inside of her pushing her closer and closer to the edge. The feeling of you against her, inside her, the sounds you make, it's almost unbearable how good it all feels. 

“I’m going to cum.” She moans, the sound dragging you right up next to her at the edge. “Oh god, me too.” You moan, resting your forehead on hers as you both grind against each other, reaching your highs at the same time, both of you shaking and moaning, holding onto each other as if your survival and sanity depended upon it.

It takes you both a minute to come down from the high, breathing heavy and your body’s still entangled, the shared heat lulling you both into a sense of calm. She shifts her leg beneath you, pulling it away from your dripping core and making you whine, your arms coming up to wrap around her. You need her to say. “Wanda-”

“Shh, baby. I just want us to move somewhere more comfortable.” She says gently and you nod your head, a sigh of relief leaving you. 

“I’m not going anywhere, y/n.” She says more confidently not, reassuringly, moving herself to ensure you're looking her in the eye. “Not unless I have you with me.”

You smile and lean into her, filled with nothing but joy that you finally have each other.

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

[we-were-beautiful]

Marry me

Xaden x Sorrengail!oc

WC: 816

Warnings: None just Fluff

A/N: Well I decided to take part in a small writing Challenge. I had fun writing this little blurb and while it has the potential to turn into its own series; I am going to show self restraint by not doing that. The prompt was "I can never say 'no to you" From Jana over at @creativepromptsforwriting

Also fair warning; I didn't send this to any of my betas. So we die like men at this point

Thank you to @skyfallscotland and @justallihere for putting together the Fourth Wing Birthday Bash

Last but not least tumbr is being dumb and won’t let me post from my laptop so apologies about the formatting

“We should get married” I comment wrapping my arms around my beloved’s shoulders, fingers gently tracing along the scars at the top of his shoulders. I look up into his gold flecked onyx eyes and smile widely at him. Was the flight field after lessons the best place to have this conversation, probably not, but I couldn’t help myself. It had been an interesting lesson with a storm about to roll in; the thunder off in the distance rolling. But now with the rest of the third years and Professor Kaori heading back to the citadel, I figured given Xaden a small heart attack would be fun.

Where I would expect to see shock and hesitance on his face I only see a fond smile as he wraps his arms around my waist to pull me into his chest.

“When do you want to get married and how do you want to tell your mother and sisters?” I hadn’t thought of that.

It would be pretty easy to tell Violet. If I could get her away from her squad it would be as simple as that. Mira I could just write a letter too. Shed be pissed at first; she had specifically told me to stay away from Xaden. That didn’t work out since we ended up in the same squad with mated dragons; but Mira could get over it. She’d be happy for me eventually.

My mother; however, I completely forgot about. General Sorrengail hadn’t been a fan of the relationship and she had made it known to me once the word had made it to her office. That had been the only time I had formally gotten called to her office to make her displeasure known; but its been three years. Xaden and I work well together and we have been in love with each other for awhile now. Not to mention we are kinda stuck with each other until one of us dies so at one point or another she’s just going to have to learn to live with it.

I feel Tairn’s amusement in the back of my mind. The old curmudgeon had been riding my ass this last week about acting like a love sick puppy around Xaden. Like his grumpy ass isn’t the exact same way around Sgaeyl.

‘I heard that’ the rumbling voice flows through my head.

‘You were supposed to.’ I felt Tairn’s snout push at my back sending me further into Xaden’ s grasp ‘Tairn!!!’ I can hear Sgaeyl chuckle in my head.

‘I think I shall go get some sheep’ I’m not sure if it is the mighty beat of our dragons wings or thunder, but as the two dragons fly off the heavens open up above us and cold rain begins to pour down. Xaden lets out a hearty laugh squeezing me tightly.

“When do you want to get married love.” He leans down to whisper in my ear repeating his earlier question.

“Want to grab Garrick, Bodhi, Liam and Vi and sneak down to Chantara.” I would do it; grab our family and secretly get married today if he agreed.

“How about we wait until graduation. We can get our family together, before we fly to our post, and have a small ceremony.” He pushes a soaked strand of hair away from my face. “Then it gives you time to let Mira know, so she can try and get leave” leave it to this perfect man to remember that I wanted Mira there when I got married. While Brennen had Mom and Violet had Dad it had been Mira and I against the world. I still had all of the letters we had wrote to each other while she was in the quadrant and then when I started second year. She had to be there on our special day; she would kill me if I ran off today and got married.

“Ok Graduation it is then.” He looks even more breathtaking in the rain as water droplets roll down his skin.

“Alright then lets go Mrs.Riorson.” He lets go of me and moves towards the hidden tunnel entrance.

“Wait.” I call grabbing his hand to stop him. “Kiss me?” Is it cheesy and straight out of the romance books that I brought into the quadrant, yes. But I had always wanted to be kissed in the rain.

“Have I ever been able to say ‘no’ to you.” He gently cradles my face in his hands tilting my face upwards; his lips crash into mine is a passionate kiss. It starts out innocent enough but my hands quickly find their way to his hair and one of his finds its way to my ass. When we break apart we are gasping for breath; Xaden rest his forehead against mine and hazel eyes meet onyx “Marry me?”

“Yes.” I laugh and pull him into another kiss.

[thebatcave45]

I Missed You 

No warnings. Small Bruce Wayne drabble. No descriptions of reader. Fluff. WC 816 *could be any of the Bruce/Batman combos

**gif not mine**

You work closely with Bruce Wyane at his Wayne Enterprises office. He’s been gone for close to a month now instead of the two weeks he said he’d be. You had found excuses to text each other about work but it wasn’t enough. You didn’t feel it was your place to question if he was still actually on the work trip or not but you were getting antsy. Regardless, you missed him. Badly. You had started to notice the tiredness of his face and occasional bruise peeking out of his collar just before he left and it was worrying you. What was he up to at night?

 The morning he reappeared you were at an appointment but his secretary had texted you of his return. Almost slamming into multiple people, you had to practically yell at yourself to slow down and walk towards Wayne Tower at a normal pace. 

***

His back was turned to you as he greeted a man in a crisp gray suit into his office. Dang, you thought. Just the site of him however made you instantly calm down. Walking to your own office, you sat in your comfy desk chair and tried to keep busy by shuffling papers. Finally you leaned back and closed your eyes for several minutes until you heard a familiar ding on your computer and a little box popped up in the lower right corner. 

Come to my office when you have a moment.

 Please. 

-Bruce 

The please was because you had jokingly scolded him one day about needing to be polite, even on the company messenger system. He always added it now as an inside joke. You highly doubted he remembered to say it to anyone else, even as an afterthought. 

 You gathered a folder and some random papers you needed his approval on and made your way to his office. Leaning over his secretaries’ desk as you had done multiple times a day for the past few years now, you pushed the button that would buzz in his office letting him know someone wanted in. The familiar click of the electronic door unlocking signaled to you could head in without him even questioning who it was. Grateful to see his head was down as you walked towards him, it was ridiculous your face felt so flushed. 

“I’m guessing you have a pile of very boring crap waiting for me to sign.” He finally looks up from his desk and his smile starts to fade. 

In one fluid motion he stands and scoots his chair back. As he stood, you were still making your way towards his desk. As you started to slow down, reaching it, he was already around it and meeting you face to face.

"Actually, it’s very important crap that..” but by then he was already kissing you. Not hard and forceful, but almost with a sense of need. You slightly backed up, breaking it. 

“I’m so sorry” he quickly spilled out. Looking almost horrified with himself. 

“No, I just, uh, wait, what?” you started to giggle as you often did when you were nervous. He looked at you with sadness and worry that he had just misread the tension between you two for months now and acted in a completely unprofessional way, 

You watched it all flash before his eyes before quickly saying, “No no! Please don’t, I mean…Could you do that again?” Before he could think about it, he stepped forward and this time put his hand gently on either side of your face as he brought you in as he kissed you again. This time there was no doubt that it was needy. 

As you stood there for what could have been several minutes, you dropped the papers you were holding all over the floor. His arms moved to your waist and back as yours went to his neck and hair. He must have turned you from where you were because you could feel the front desk edge bump into your thighs. Almost sitting on it you heard a beep, shattering the moment. 

Without saying a word to each other, you bend down to the floor and start collecting the papers as he reaches over his desk to push the call button to his secretary's desk. “Give me just a minute. We are still discussing some business” he cooly says without sounding as flushed as he looks. “Very good Mr Wayne” you hear back. 

You are setting the papers down on Bruce’s desk as he makes his way to sit again. You don't make eye contact but he clears his throat. You turn to walk away and as you almost reach the door you quietly hear him. 

“I missed you” he says with almost a pleading tone. 

You turn your head back to look at him, softly smiling. “I missed you too” and walk out of his office.

****

tiny side note. I've written on my main a few times but nothing huge. If you liked this, I understand why some things don't get rebloged but if you could comment what you liked possibly that would really help me improve my writing. Thanks for reading!!! 💕 💕💕

[flower-tea-fairies]

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[ybklix]

favorite crime

♡ pairing: bang chan x fem!character

⮑ intro

⋆cw: none ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

⋆notes: narrated from fem character’s pov. fic based on 2004.

masterlist here

a/n: help, i’m not really sure how that store used to be like since I’m writing it to romanticize the early 2000’s ok

chapters one & two

ONE

word count: 816

Excluding the part about living in an insignificant town and still attending school… it’s not relevant. None of that matters or will matter once I manage to get out of here… and finally become someone else among the millions of people in the city, amidst the hustle and bustle, broken hopes, dreams hanging by a thread, and completely void happiness, just there, I’ll be there. Living, I guess. Breathing in the smoke from some neighbor’s cigarette and questioning if this is my path, since clearly the one I’m on now is not pleasing at all.

I managed to stop my thoughts for a few seconds; my mother was shouting from the bathroom, repeatedly asking me to check on a delivery the courier had just made. It was my last weekend before a new school year, and surprisingly, the weather had remained warm, so I was only wearing comfortable clothes. August had gone by, soon it would be September, and my favorite season would finally begin.

I opened the door to find an ostentatious box with the IKEA logo engraved on it. I had no idea if my mother had ordered some new furniture, so just as I was about to grab it and drag it, I realized the big mistake. The label didn’t bear any familiar name, and in fact, the address indicated the next-door neighbor’s number. Minho Lee, 143. I grimaced, unsure if I should be the one to report the mistake, or just not bother and move the box in front of his door, hoping he’d open it.

Considering, it was strange for this kind of confusion as deliveries like this always went to the reception where they would then call the owner just to make sure if it’s okay to bring it up or leave it right there downstairs.

Minho Lee… I knew they moved into the next-door apartment almost over a month ago, but honestly, I never cared to know who lived around me. I dragged the heavy box a few meters to his door and simply knocked on his door out of impulse, without hope of any response or desire to stay there to give any explanation. But the response was quicker than I thought because, as soon as I knocked, almost instantly, the neighbor appeared, dressed comfortably all in black, in shorts and a sleeveless shirt.

He had a look of confusion on his face. I remained for 3 seconds not knowing what to do until I managed to say:

“This appeared at our door, but I think it’s yours.”

The Asian-looking guy looked even more confused for about two more seconds until he managed to read that my gaze was directed towards the ground, and it wasn’t until he noticed that, his demeanor could relax. He read the name on the label and immediately thanked me.

“Yes, it’s here, thank you.”

I gave a smile with nothing else to say and headed for the doorknob of my door as I watched him out of the corner of my eye bending down to pick up his belongings. And finally, I quickly entered, realizing the ridiculous pajamas I was wearing. I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassed, as if that action could erase how uncomfortable it was for me to realize that I had a considerably attractive neighbor. His aura, his appearance… I wished to study him a little more, but really there was nothing more to say, nothing more than, here’s your box. I bit my lip wondering if I should have spoken and started a conversation with him by saying the typical nonsense like “this mistake had never happened before… the courier must be new, just like you, since when did you move…” But precisely my outfit, relaxed and messy, and my appearance… if only I had a little more luck next time, I wouldn’t think of wasting it like this.

Minho Lee looked young, like a recent college graduate, or maybe someone in their final year. As I climbed the stairs to my room, I thought about how ridiculous it was to start creating more ideas about him. Checking the clock, I smiled realizing it was my working hour and that I could leave this apartment without excuse.

After minutes, I left; grabbing my apartment keys and without saying a word to my mother, as if we didn’t have the great freedom to know or communicate our next whereabouts. Or just any kind of communication. Living with her was strange.

The building’s elevator stopped working two weeks ago and still seems to be under repair, so I hurry down the stairs until I reach the main hall, where surprisingly, I manage to recognize whose broad back was in front of me, also leaving the building, but heading in a different direction.

Part of me felt the need to follow him just out of sheer curiosity, and the fact of feeling excitement studying a new individual was… indescribable. Who is Minho Lee.

TWO

word count: 2k

My whole world sadly revolved around an idiot who never knew how to love me, care for me, and protect me the way I would have wanted. The way a sensible father would care for his only daughter. Or at least that’s what everyone reminds me every year in every damn school; always asking about my father, wondering what his next book would be about… but I can’t even speak out loud about him, sometimes I wish he were a stranger, but I have the greatest fear that… what little I know about him encompasses important concepts of who or how he really is.

I was the only daughter of a well-known artist, the acclaimed writer Henry Waldrop, whose books were such a great success that each of them —almost all of them— were adapted in Hollywood, on the big screens, with actors of the caliber of Nicole Kidman or Brad Pitt, working with promising directors like Mendes and Fincher, winners of important awards, with Henry himself writing his own scripts on a couple of occasions, nothing took him out of Los Angeles. Waldrop has been hailed as the greatest American speaking in the world of literature since Fitzgerald and Hemingway by the Times, countless interviews in the New Yorker, and among other accolades.

He has been called everything; but I will never be able to call him dad again, not since I was 7 years old.

My relationship with him is cold, distant, and almost nonexistent; I always register my name as Calliope Moore, my mother’s last name, hoping not to be recognized in this small town, however, I can’t change it at school, for the moment I can’t change it legally either; so for now, I remain hidden like this. Meanwhile, in a part-time job after school and on weekends.

I was a child who could be considered naive and sweet, at least until I was 6 years old. Then I realized many things, that my father loved fame and excess in meaningless material things more than his family, that his writing is immature and difficult to read, never matured, I never understood why I had to do it before him, unfairly, or worse, do it for him. Despite that, I became my worst enemy, I became an admirer, not of him, but of the artistic world in which he lived; my only memories with him were his huge literary collection, his love for art and cinema; he had me captive every year of my life, I spent hours sitting in his library reading instead of having a conversation with him; I chose something from his extensive collection of movies to watch on DVD. All this on his forced weekends when he legally had to see me. And worst of all, I found refuge in letters… vaguely considering myself a writer; like he is.

I know there’s the silly idea that he really cares about me just because he’s my father, that everything can be fixed if only I would talk to him… but I wish it were that simple, the reason I preferred to be locked in his office was because I saw too many things I should never have seen, situations that a loving and careful father would ensure none of his children know about, I cried seeing women enter his apartment, thinking it wasn’t the kind of love he should give to mother, I didn’t understand why my friends at school could introduce them and I just heard ‘oh, he’s something like a celebrity, he’s just busy. Maybe someday you’ll be like him.’

I sigh and look from afar at the store manager smiling at me, it’s funny to consider he has a little crush on me and I can easily manipulate him. In a matter of seconds, the loud sound of the phone interrupts my daily thoughts about complaining about life.

“Blockbus-”

“Callie, it’s Sarah, can you urgently cover for me for two hours? I have something very important at university.”

I rolled my eyes at being interrupted and at hearing my coworker’s needy voice on the other end of the line, I didn’t need details, but I was surprised by the quick passage of time, so I checked it, she arrived an hour later than agreed and I had no idea.

“All right.”

“Thank you, I owe you one, Cal.”

I slid over the counter, resting my chin on the palm of my hand, bored. Tim, the manager, who is about 8 years older than me, took care of putting on music; I really didn’t have a specific plan for this Saturday, but two more hours of time were just time.

To kill the time, I moved around here and there, sorted movies, checked boxes of new tapes, read each synopsis, sorted each genre, and finally went to tidy up a bit under the main counter; customers came in sporadically and this was the next customer I heard since an hour ago. Tim greeted them with a good evening. I assumed they had to go between the aisles of shelves to pick out their movie or movies to rent, so I didn’t pay attention to them as I continued cleaning up a bit.

Indeed, it took about 10 minutes, when I heard the plastic fall onto the cold wood of the checkout counter and a male voice say, referring to Tim, “Are you checking out over here?”

“No, um, Callie-”

Tim spoke and before he finished his sentence, I hurried to stand up, finding the guy from this morning next to me, Minho Lee. He was still dressed in black, now with jeans, he was wearing bracelets on his left hand now. For a second, I couldn’t say anything, other than meet his gaze, but I immediately regained my composure and gave him a warm smile, but I feared that this time, for him, this client, it was a genuine one.

His gaze was tender for a second as he seemed slightly surprised by the sudden way I unexpectedly ‘sprung’ from the floor; then he softened it and kept eye contact with me.

“I’m here to return these,” he spoke, dragging a stack of 3 movies “and I’ll take these” he pointed to the stack on the right.

My gaze lowered to his hands on the tapes and on the DVDs themselves. I took the products to be returned and inspected each one of them: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Kill Bill, A Tale of Two Sisters. I gave him a smile, clearly judging, at least it was the fun part of the job; seeing what kind of person you were based on your taste in movies. And for Minho… there was no relation, a romantic comedy, Kill Bill, just Kill Bill and… a foreign psychological horror movie, judging by its cover, it seemed to be from Asia. If I weren’t trying to convince myself that someone considerably attractive like him is single, I would say the romantic comedy is something he would watch with some romantic date without a doubt.

“Name?” I raised my eyebrows, feigning disinterest as if I hadn’t seen him a couple of hours ago.

Judging by his look, it was clear that in some way he also recognized me.

“Under the name of Minho Lee, with an H between the N and O” he replied.

This Charming Man by The Smiths started playing and I noticed a slight movement of his fingers on the table to the rhythm of the melody; all while I typed his name into the computer. I was impressed by his profile, apparently, he’s a frequent customer judging by the long list of movies. He even has a membership, wow, I had never seen him here.

“Would you like the standard two-week rental?”

He nodded. I registered the new movies to rent, not without looking at them in detail: a foreign horror movie, Korean-looking, The Wig, Dracula 2, god, I heard the movie was terrible and Scream 2. I guess he wanted to watch only one genre for the moment, no more romantic comedies.

“That will be 33 dollars… 23 with the membership discount.”

“Thank you… Calliope” he read the tag with my name on my blue vest.

The story of my name is a bit funny, my father, a man without emotional responsibility whose heart was always incapable of falling in love, had his philosophy around the Greek mythology of the 9 muses, which is ironic considering the number of lovers he had, and, from what I heard, how much he promised each of the women he got involved with, that they were his muse and inspiration. My name comes from the muse of music, as he met my mother in college and that was her career at the time. My mother’s dream was always to direct orchestras, play the cello at important events in New York… but then I was born.

It would be a nice and moving story if any of my parents appreciated each other, but my mother made sure to make it clear how much she detested him and remind me what she could have done if I had never been born.

During that time, my father was working as an apprentice to a professor and substitute professor at the university. A literary cliché that inspired one of his books, by the way. Each page of the encounters with my mother severely altered, as she exclaimed, that never happened… if only things had been like that… Anyway, the book turned into a movie and considered a classic romance of the nineties. It was funny when someone came to rent it, since for now, I work at the town’s Blockbuster.

Anyway, my father had this immature belief that since I was the one growing in my mother’s womb, I would be the greatest force and source of inspiration for her, a muse. Sometimes I suppose my mother ended up hating me. She had to raise me and support Henry in his dream as a writer. I grew up and live in the same place as him; a wealthy area in northern New York state; where my teachers, absorbed by his work, expected innate talent from me.

But the pressure isn’t always on me. I have an older brother, a half-brother, named Apollo —a bit strange considering that literature says he was married to Calliope or something like that—; who likes to be recognized as Henry Waldrop’s legitimate son, with his gallery in Manhattan; however, he’s nothing more than another pretentious wannabe from the Upper East Side.

After Minho left, I pretended to close his membership and register the returned movies, but I was just snooping around, his birthday, October 25th, he’s 10 years older than me, he really doesn’t seem like it; it must be his Asian genetics I guess. His address, registered in the same building as mine, his email, his phone, and… the record of his rentals.

Not even 10 minutes passed when the sound of the door caught my attention again, Sarah had arrived, I didn’t notice the time so I checked it, she arrived an hour later than agreed and had no idea.

Sarah came in with a smile, dropping her bag on the counter making noise as she arrived.

“I’m here.”

I quickly closed the computer information and let out a jokingly annoyed sigh at her presence.

“Well, there are only two hours left until closing.”

“Three, we close later on Saturdays.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and took off my blue vest, walking to the other side of the counter, ready to grab my things and leave.

“Is this…?” Sarah mentioned, catching my attention.

I turned to look at her and she was holding the returned movies from a few moments ago. I forgot to organize them.

“Oh, let me-”

“Oh no” she interrupted me “Kill Bill and A Tale of Two Sisters, Korean horror? Did the handsome guy already stopped by?”

I frowned.

“He just left” said Tim.

Sarah made a disappointed face.

“I guess he comes often” I said.

“Of course, every Saturday at seven during my shift.”

I stared at her, perplexed.

“He’s definitely coming to see you, Sarah” Tim added, amused.

Sarah just smiled. I let out a reluctant laugh.

“I’m leaving” I announced.

“Wait, Callie, aren’t you going to organize them…” I heard Sarah exclaim just before leaving through the door, but I decided to ignore her.

She can do it alone. Maybe Minho can come back to help her.

[ruikamo]

Day 7 "Alone with their body" ~ OC: Blair Campbelle ~ Year: 816

Blair suffers from a disease called Silberglimm-Lungen-Welken.

@thepromptfoundry

[yerimbrit]

[flufftober day 10, wc: 816] - ghost photoshoot : b. jeemin

“STOP, WAIT! I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING…” jeemin panic-shouts, hands splayed in front of her and bumping into you as you tried to trace eye-holes on the large sheet that is covering her body.

“maybe if you’d hold still so i can get this done, you’ll be able to see,” you grumble out, steadying her by the shoulders and drawing two medium-sized circles in sharpie around where her eyes are. “there! now all we have to do is cut it out.”

you pull the sheet off of jeemin rather quickly, which causes her to fall forward and against you—thankfully, you catch her because you’d both be turned into a stack of pancakes otherwise. “are you alright?”

she weakly gets back up on her feet, pouting at you, “you could’ve warned me.”

“sorry babe,” you press a light kiss to her cheek, which seems to cheer her up quite a bit, “we have to get this done fast because mai-unnie’s coming soon.”

thanks to your encouragement, jeemin picks up the fabric scissors and begins cutting away at the outlined holes diligently. you do the same with another sheet of fabric which was prepared before this, and the two of you make such an efficient use of time that you finish a whole episode of some murder mystery show on netflix. jeemin’s even at the brink of slumber when mai rings the doorbell that jolts you awake.

when you open the door for the older girl, she’s almost taken aback at how drowsy your girlfriend looks. “sleepy? i’m not late, am i?”

“no, we just finished early,” you look behind you at jeemin, slightly smiling, “you have the camera?”

mai nods and gestures to her car parked outside, “in my bag. off to the photoshoot?”

“off to the photoshoot.”

there’s an assortment of props that you packed for the ghost photoshoot trend (that you may have been late to by a measly four years… but you digress) including chic sunglasses, a top hat and a cowboy hat, and a tea set. the plan is to go to a local park, risk your dignity for a few photos in case someone recognizes you, and go back home.

the photoshoot was an idea that randomly popped up in your head after doom scrolling on tiktok, and of course you had to drag your girlfriend in to do it with you. not that jeemin complained, because not to boast but you’re pretty sure she would adopt a dog to surprise you if you mention it in passing once. although it does sound nice—owning a dog together, jeemin coming home from walking the dog just in time for dinner which you lovingly prepared… such a dream.

“come here you two,” mai beckons with her hand, grabbing the white sheets from the trunk, ones that you’ll be covered with very soon. jeemin and you approach her obediently, receiving the sheets and pulling it over your heads, waiting for further instructions. “glasses,” she hands the pairs of sunglasses to you both.

now decked out in standard-ghost-photoshoot attire, you and jeemin set off to do whatever while mai captures you with her canon dslr camera (which is well-loved and also getting kind of old; you plan to get her a new one for christmas), grabbing multiple shots of different scenes thrown together.

you pat the space next to you on the ground, adjusting your sunglasses and intertwining your fingers with your girlfriend’s when she sits down. mai stands nearby, ready to press the shutter button, “three, two-”

“wait,” jeemin calls out, before reaching around you and gently easing your head down to rest on her shoulder. the action moves your glasses from their original position, but you dismiss it. “okay, ready.”

the older girl slightly shakes her head with a smile before counting down again, the sound of the shutter following soon after. she looks down, checking the recent photos and flashing a thumbs up, “i think we’ve taken a good amount.”

the three of you head straight to the car, you and jeemin still in the ghost-fit, and drive back to your place. your parents are gone for a work trip, so it’s just you guys in the house sorting through the photos. there’s some of you walking and holding hands, taken from the front, some of you wearing the hats (jeemin had the top hat, and you the cowboy hat) and pretending to sip tea, and various different shots of other poses and such.

“the others are gonna complain that we left them out,” you laugh, moving over on the bed to look at mai’s camera.

jeemin wraps her arm around your shoulder, giggling softly. “then that’s too bad for them.”

“cold much?” mai looks over her shoulder, grinning. “was this worth it to you two?”

“so worth it,” you sigh, slightly leaning back on your hands and closing your eyes.

so worth it.

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : i miss u bang jeemin i do

[dia-smthidk]

Mafia of the Aces MASTERPOST (I think?)

Hello hello! Happy New Years! We’re back with the Mafia AU I promised, with a slight change to everything!

Mafia members (the ones made by me atleast)

Main Boss

The Scapegoat (cover up for Main Boss)

Red’s Scapegoat (same role, different mafia)

Other Bosses of the Aces

The Joker (by @/rabid-mercenary16)

The Moshie 😼 (by @/moshieee)

Members who work under said bosses (or just other members in general who aren’t one of the bosses)

The Interrogator of the Spades (by @/ner5y)

The Informant (by @/glitchyk)

ONE of the Grunts of the Clubs (by @/vexation-816) *This specific grunt is important & linked here cuz he’s our friend & we like him 🎉

BOUNDERIES

“Can I add my sona/OCs in MOTA?” - Sure, everyone is welcome, the more the merrier!! “Can I make fanmade works?” - PLEASE do!! Seeing ppl make things based from what I create makes me feel really giddy & always tag me in the works if you can!! “Can I ship the characters/self ships/OC x Canon?” - Depends, but imo with my creations, sure! The only character I have boundaries for is Mafia Dia, which should be pretty obvious why (also as long as it isn’t proship eugh) ”Can I join/start rps?” - Depends really, just remind yourself any rps you start will be just as noncanon as you are, & same goes for joining them! The characters most of the time will only acknowledge you as one of the grunts unless stated otherwise, & don’t push if we don’t respond immediately/decline

When it comes to rps, you know just as much as each & every character does. Do not spoil the fun by spoiling the events.

[unknownperson246]

Can you do one where your a waitress at a club and after you get off some creeps try to get at you but Nikki stops them

Hiii I’m so sorry it’s late but I finally made it and here it is I hope you enjoy it 💋💋.

Pretty Lady

Words: 816

warnings: *angst* *fluff* *stealing* *cussing* *getting attacked*

It's the year 1983 and you are a waitress at the Rainbow Bar and Grill. It was a place an attraction to many rockstars but also to a lot of creeps who decided to mess with the people who worked there. This one particular night you were working a double shift because you had to pay rent. You were on the verge of being evicted from your apartment because your landlord couldn't deal with you not paying your rent. You were minding your own business and serving customers who needed service. Once your shift ends you grab your coat and your purse and you put them on. Once you're halfway up the street some drunk creeps grab you by your hair and drag you to an alley nearby.  

“Ow, what the hell who the fuck are you?” you yell. 

Their movements are slurred and they look at you with their viscous and venomous eyes. You were their prey and they were the predator. 

“Shut the fuck up you bitch you going to be sorry you ever spoke to us,” They say drunkenly.

They grab your purse and they steal all of your cash. 

“No please no I worked hard for that” you cry helplessly as they steal all your earnings that you worked day and night for. 

Suddenly there is a dark-haired man with a sharp jawline he is very pale and ghost white. He is wearing leather pants and he is wearing no shirt showing his tattoos. He looks familiar too familiar. You realize you saw him on stage often performing with his band and he was a regular there with his band. You were desperate to try to remember his name. It finally clicked it was Nikki.

“Nikki” you cry out loud and he hears you from the other side. Nikki has your attention and sees what situation you're in. He comes rushing to you and the men who are holding onto your hair. Nikki charges at one of them.

“Who the fuck are you?” They ask. 

“That doesn't matter” Nikki spits at them. 

Nikki raises his fist at them the sight of it scares them off. They drunkenly run away with your purse. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Nikki asks trying to help you up. 

“No. They stole all my money” You sob.

Nikki tries to comfort you but to no avail, you don't seem to calm down. He holds your hand.

 “My landlord is going to kick me out” you sob.

“Hey, it’s okay,”  he says gently.

“What is a pretty lady like you doing out here in the middle of the night in a dangerous alley anyway?” he asks as he chuckles lightly trying to get you to stop crying.

“They dragged me out to this alley from where I work. I was walking away from my workplace because my shift was over” You say sniffling. “Where do you work?” Nikki asks gently trying not to stop you from crying.

“I work at the Rainbow Bar and grill as a waitress” you sniffle.

“Hold on I remember you. Your name is Y/N, right? I always catch a glimpse of you while I am around the place.”

“Yeah I remember you too Nikki” you sniffle 

“I could tell when you yelled my name” he chuckles. 

Nikki feels so bad and guilty for letting the drunk bastards get away with your money. Nikki has an idea but he feels it's too soon because he just had an interaction with you. He doesn't even know you properly. Nikki has a hard time trying to make a decision but he feels so bad. 

“Y/N I know this idea may seem bad to you I mean this is just our first interaction but I feel very bad and I was wondering if you wanted to stay at my place for a while until you can at least pay your rent?”  he says gently as he holds your hand.

“No, no that is a wonderful offer, and thank you  but I don't want to bother you or be in your way” 

“No Y/N I insist” Nikki replies. 

“You sure Nikki?” 

“Yeah, I am a thousand percent sure. Why don't we go together back to your apartment and you can grab your stuff and I'll drive us to my place? Does that sound okay?.” Nikki asks gently. 

You are excited that you are going to live in a rock star's place for a while but you're still sad that all your money is gone. You guided Nikki to your apartment building that was near the Rainbow Bar and grill. You enter the key in the rusty doorknob and you immediately grab all your things in a duffle bag from your trashed apartment. You walk down the ugly old steps and you never look back. Nikki is still there and you both drive down to his place. 

[crispyadorablepotatochip]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62117947

‘cause love’s such an old-fashioned word by jrm8097 (aka me) featuring Glinda Upland/Elphaba Thropp

Word count: 816

Tags: Grief/Mourning, mainly musicalverse and movieverse but with characterization inspo from the books, Propaganda, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, implied comphet lesbian Glinda, Angst

Fic summary:

“In her hands crumples a poster extracted from inside Glinda’s silk pillowcase. Bold text, red upon green. Bring HER down, it reads. The color is faded in neat divisions where she’s folded and unfolded it over and over again in study. The drawing doesn’t look very much like the Witch, Glinda always thinks. Maybe the nose is sharper? The skin—a sicklier shade, smoother, more wax-like than human? She can’t identify the flaws with any accuracy now. It’s been too many years. But the nails, yellowed, are wrong.”

Or, Glinda the Good is too old for this now.

Press “more” for the full fic!

Sometimes a great wave of forgetfulness

Rises up and blesses me

And other times the sickness howls

And I despair of any remedy

Prowl Great Cain, The Mountain Goats (2011)

—

The palace lies shrouded; after dusk, the etchings in the walls—harsh, angular—send shadows cascading down them in rippled little lines. Perhaps the whole structure really is made of emerald, but Glinda hasn’t ever bothered to ask. And who could possibly answer the question? The details of its construction must have been recorded in rare books somewhere, but as a matter of propaganda, the Wizard enjoyed spectacle. Oz needed its Emerald Palace as a cultural focal point of luxury and power, representing the hopes and wishes of every citizen, etc, so he said—then quoted a man named Jung, whoever that was—and anyways it isn’t like Glinda could threaten it out of him now. The Wizard disappeared in his replica balloon many years ago.

As the nation’s de-facto leader Glinda denounces his tactics publicly, but she has to admit that they were effective. Even after all her efforts, the past remains blurry and vague like hidden through the rainbow sheen of a bubble. She tried to collect the truth of the Wizard’s doings—every motion he passed or secret allyship he formed—but there is so much to do and so little time to do it. Only a few years into her reign, she saw that it was impossible to determine history with any accuracy. She would simply have to go on without it.

The Witch was good at history, she remembers. But the Witch is dead.

Glinda sits on her bed, legs wrapped in the beaded brocade of her blankets, and observes how under moonlight her skin stretches and sags with the weight of time. She feels very old all of a sudden. So far displaced from the bright-eyed student of Shiz or the strained socialite grappling with politics she only barely understands.

In her hands crumples a poster extracted from inside Glinda’s silk pillowcase. Bold text, red upon green. Bring HER down, it reads. The color is faded in neat divisions where she’s folded and unfolded it over and over again in study. The drawing doesn’t look very much like her, Glinda always thinks. Maybe the nose is sharper? The skin—a sicklier shade, smoother, more wax-like than human? She can’t identify the flaws with any accuracy now. It’s been too many years. But the nails, yellowed, are wrong. They got them together at the Emerald City—the other’s idea, of course. Glinda with green gems on hers and the Witch with glittering geometric shapes mimicking the architecture of the palace. It must have been the last time she ever got them done; certainly no-one would service an enemy of the state, and Glinda knows the woman wouldn’t risk being captured simply for the sake of fashion. Although, in retrospect, she probably did enjoy fashion—her black dresses emphasized her shoulders and slimmed down at her waist fetchingly. Before everything happened, the Witch always sported fresh manicures. She had been sketched into collective unconsciousness with outstretched claws.

Glinda closes her eyes and remembers the smooth texture of them, running her hands up and down Elphaba Thropp’s. Elphaba. Elphie. Her mouth presses into a weak line at merely the thought of the name. She tries to avoid it. Most days, so busy with her duties, it’s easy. But at nighttime the shape of the words haunts her head like an echo against an empty cave, trapping it inside to ricochet off her every thought. When was the last time anyone had spoken them aloud? Who was the last person to love Elphie and say it?

She can’t even imagine what it must have been like for Fiyero. In the end, they gave him a state military funeral and dropped all charges posthumously—even though the body was missing, of course. He might have eventually made a life with Elphaba if he hadn’t been killed. Glinda doesn’t know; she used to curse his legacy and think he was stupid for trying. Now she understands she simply isn’t that sort of person. She cannot be perfectly in love. And Oz, that she were perfect.

Glinda’s eyes are dry. She raises the paper up and her mouth goes even more tense. Then, delicately, she presses it to the corner of the picture’s, head tilted slightly. For deniability’s sake, the two mouths—one cold, one warm—do not directly overlap. And suddenly the paper is wetted, uncontrollable, with a surge of emotion so intense and tender that Glinda never wants to name it, wants to shove it away and lock it into a secret cabinet of her mind. She is too old for this.

When she finally draws away it comes with the realization that her tears have pulled streaks in the delicate ink. The single remnant she has allowed herself to keep of the Witch melts. There is nothing she can do about it.

[zolica-ao3]

Tagged by @papayabrain and @w1ld-wr1t3r! I'm late to this, but hey, 2025 has only just started :)

2024 AO3 Wrapped

January to December 2024

~

Works Published: 4

User Subscriptions: 129

Kudos: 4,157 (insane, tysm)

Comment Threads: 816

Bookmarks: 1,283

Subscriptions: 1,196

Word Count: 158,848

Hits: 139,392

~

Top 3 kudos fics

🏆 2,698 - Luka

🥈 627 - The backpack to my lucky charm

🥉 499 - That time Oscar shrunk 

~

Top word count

🏆 125,240 - Luka

🥈 21,466 - The backpack to my lucky charm

🥉 10,126 - That time Oscar shrunk 

~

Top ships

Landoscar, ofcourse!

~

Top 3 tags

🏆 Lando Norris needs a hug (3)

🏆 Oscar Piastri needs a hug (3)

🏆 Worried Oscar Piastri (3) I seem to love hugs a lot! Who would have guessed? Also lots of "fluff" tags and variations of the tag. <3 Thanks for being part of my writing journey in 2024. I can't wait to write my socks off this year!

Everyone I know has been tagged already I think? If not, please do steal this. You have my blessing :)

[mariaofdoranelle]

The Toilet Theft

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics, prompt ‘Thief’

HAPPY SUPER LATE BIRTHDAY FOR AELIN!

Sorry about the delay for this one!

Words: 816

Warnings: unforgivable crimes (a small theft)

For Aelin’s birthday, the last thing she expected was to wake up to an empty bed.

Empty bed, empty shower, empty kitchen—an empty apartment overall, Aelin noticed as she looked for him. Not her ideal birthday morning, but Rowan must’ve had a good reason to leave her stranded like this.

He did leave some special breakfast with a cute note, so that’s what she focused on when her boss called.

“Salvaterre,” she greeted. “Do you miss me already?”

Just a joke to tease her grumpy superior, but work only started in 40 minutes.

“Galathynius.” A sigh that came from deep within his bones. “Can you explain why there’s a pharaonic toilet paper pyramid sitting on your desk?”

403 days before

The only bad thing about celebrating new jobs after being penniless is that sometimes you forget to schedule it for after pay day—which was exactly what Aelin did when she arranged drinks with Lysandra at a fancy bar in an hour.

But there’s a solution for every problem, Aelin realized as she ate dinner—free cookies from the break room. It was a lot more than the socially acceptable amount so it could constitute as ‘dinner’, but the jar would be refilled in the morning, and no one was there to see her rude misuse of that office perk. At this hour, the closest people to her were her new bosshole and Hot IT Guy, in a late meeting two doors down.

Back to her issue, Aelin opened the groceries list on the phone and decided what she could buy after her pay day and what she would get from her parents’ house soon. After all rearrangements were made, there was only one urgent thing left.

Toilet paper.

The only inescapable item she couldn’t wait until groceries at her parents’ or pay day.

Her eyes immediately slid to the toilet adjoined to the break room. At this late hour. When maintenance would be back in the morning.

No one has to know.

Before giving herself time to give up, Aelin locked herself in the bathroom and opened the little storage cabinet under the sink. The two rolls of toilet paper she picked barely fit inside her work tote bag, but her coat did a great job of covering the stuffed purse, since closing the zipper wasn’t an option anymore.

She unlocked the door, ready to leave, and noticed that Hot IT Guy was now in the break room, holding a dark green mug.

“Long day, huh?” He said, without his usual scowl for what might be the first time since Aelin first saw him.

A polite smile. “Sure.” Aelin readjusted her overstuffed bag so it wouldn’t be too visible to him. “Have a nice evening.”

“I—“ He interrupted her walk out of the break room. Swallowed. Put his mug down. “May I walk you to your car?”

Oh, for Mala’s sake.

356 days per year, and the hottest guy in the office decided to hit on Aelin the day she was committing theft.

“Of course,” she answered with a smile, because if anyone could pull off stealing and flirting at the same time, it was her.

With one arm slung over her purse as a safety measure, they made small talk in their way out of the office, and Rowan, as she had just found out, only got more attractive as he spoke, as rare feat for guys on their twenties.

A few steps into the open parking lot, Aelin was met with a chill breeze that made her entire body shiver, which didn’t go unnoticed by oh-so-attentive Rowan.

“It’s supposed to be spring by now, I’ll never get Orynth’s crazy weather.” A huff. “You should put your coat on.”

Aelin plastered on a too-fake smile. “No need, thanks.”

“No, I insist—“

When Rowan tugged on the coat on the top of her purse, both of them froze as one single roll of toilet paper broke loose, rolling down the floor and leaving a white trail on its path to freedom.

Present time

The staring part wasn’t exactly embarrassing for Aelin, but she understood her boss—it really was a disturbance, a three-dimensional, pharaonic kind of toilet paper pyramid taking over the entirety of her cubicle’s desk.

The pyramid was as wide as it was tall, and Aelin realized that someone really tall must’ve made that birthday surprise for her. Someone tall, who got up distinctively early to prepare this stunt, and who also knew both about her toilet paper incident and her birthday today.

Honestly, the Happy birthday —B card by the pyramid was an insult to her intelligence. That fucking Buzzard.

Aelin walked past several cubicles until she found Rowan’s desk, then silently crossed her arms before him, her questioning expression enough to prompt him.

Rowan put his dark green mug down and gave her a smile warm enough to shock their coworkers.

“Happy birthday, Fireheart.”

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