#also don't ask me why the smoothie cups look like that

[suzukiblu]

Day sixteen of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

TTK does, apparently, protect Kon from callouses, which Tim learns the hard way as Kon laces their fingers together and rubs his thumb across the back of Tim’s hand. His skin is so much softer than it should be, Tim thinks accusingly. Couldn't he at least have the decency to have chapped hands? Sweaty palms or something, even? 

Unfortunately, what Kon has is soft, warm, strong hands whose fingers lace easily through Tim's own, and Tim just has to deal with that somehow, apparently. Apparently that's just his problem now. 

Bastard. 

Tim needs to not melt into an incoherent pile of mush, so he just acts like this is fine and normal and normal and fine and walks into the store with Kon and leads him over to the phones. Kon seems smugly pleased. Tim pretends to not be an incoherent pile of mush. 

It doesn't particularly work, but he at least puts in the effort. 

“Any preferences?” he asks, tugging Kon towards the closest display.

“For a phone?” Kon says. “Not really. I mean, whatever works.” 

Tim is going to take full advantage of that “whatever”, he immediately promises himself. Full and total and complete. 

“Okay,” he agrees, then starts looking at the high-end models. No point in going cheap, though he's definitely going to make sure to pick a durable brand with the least possible degree of planned obsolescence involved. If it comes to it, he'll either upgrade one or build Kon something outright later, but for now the standard retail models are gonna have to do. 

“Uh,” Kon says, cocking his head with a bemused expression and then gesturing towards the wall with his half-empty smoothie cup. Tim is perfectly normal about the fact that they're still holding hands. All kinds of it. Completely and totally. “The burners are over there, man.” 

“Why would I get you a prepaid phone?” Tim asks, making a point of putting on a skeptical expression. “Most of those models don't even have a decent camera.” 

“That is a nine hundred dollar smartphone that you are currently looking at,” Kon says incredulously. 

“Given your powerset involves the ability to decide to make anything you're touching invulnerable, I'm not particularly concerned about you breaking it,” Tim replies reasonably. “Like, are you even capable of dropping things?” 

“Technically no, but I still fight supervillains on the daily, dude,” Kon says. 

“Then I'll spring for the accident insurance,” Tim replies reasonably. “I'd have to come back to buy you a new burner anyway, so it's just easier all around if you can duck in and pick up a replacement without needing to wait for me.” 

“It is nine hundred dollars,” Kon says. 

“There's an eight hundred dollar model, if you don't mind a little less memory,” Tim says. 

“The burners are like, twenty bucks,” Kon says. “And you don’t need to sign up for a plan or anything.” 

“Yes, but if you run out of minutes or break it, you’ll need me to come reload or replace it,” Tim says. “This way you can do it yourself and you can talk as much as you want.” 

“How much exactly are you expecting to want to talk to me, man?” Kon says with a self-deprecating little laugh. Tim thinks vicious thoughts, makes room for a few more spaces on his supervillain vengeance list, and then just shrugs. 

“Up to you,” he says. “I mean, I have school and extracurricular stuff, but that only fills up so much of the day, you know?” 

“You cannot possibly have researched me thoroughly enough to be that sure we’re gonna get along,” Kon says, frowning faintly at the phones. 

“You’re seriously underestimating my capacity for research,” Tim informs him, taking a sip of his smoothie. “Also I’m really just going on how well we’ve been getting along so far.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, and his face flushes again. “Uh . . . okay.” 

“How about this one?” Tim suggests, tipping his head towards one of the mid-range models. Decent brand and sturdy build, but not quite as expensive. 

“That’s still five hundred bucks,” Kon says. 

“I am intending to spend a lot more than five hundred bucks on you today,” Tim says. “And anyway, five hundred bucks for both our conveniences is a small price to pay, don’t you think?” 

“I guess,” Kon says, glancing towards him for a moment before looking back to the phones. “Um . . . maybe, then. If you’re–sure.” 

“I’m sure,” Tim says firmly. “Seriously, I’m not texting you on your work phone, that’s a terrible idea.” 

“If you say so, man,” Kon says, ducking his head a little like he’s trying to hide his smile. It’d work better if he weren’t taller than him, probably. 

The bastard is still holding his hand, so it’s only fair, Tim figures. 

God, since when is Kon this cute, anyway? He's always annoyingly hot, obviously–leaning more strongly towards the “annoying”, for obvious reasons–but he isn't usually cute. Tim wasn't prepared for that. He hasn't had the time to build up the necessary defenses against it. 

“I say so,” Tim says. “What color do you want?” 

“You're a very weird dude, you know,” Kon says with a little laugh, shaking his head.

[beanghostprincess]

ShuggyUta family is so cute and funny bc like.

One one hand - AAAA CUTE Uta one day having the EPIPHANY that half of her hair is WHITE, and HAIR DYE EXISTS so she hunts down the closest blue to Buggy's hair. She dyes it in the middle of the night, and either comes out next morning completely casual OR bursts out like "DAD, PAPA, LOOK NOW I HAVE BOTH OF YOU WITH ME :DD"

They both implode immediately ((and Buggy gives her the "The sentiment is so sweet baby, but remember you never ever have to change your appearance to be worthy of love. If you want to, want it for yourself, okay? We love you no matter what" talk))

Then there's also the shenanigans.

Buggy: .... whatchya got there?

Shanks and Uta, both holding one of Luffy's hands, holding cups in the other: ........ smoothies?

<><><><><>

Buggy: Shanks so help me, I TOLD YOU not to get another kid-

Shanks: whaaaaaat? Hahaha, no Bugaboo. You told me very specifically I am not to adopt another child :))

Buggy: so why are there two new children in the kitchen

Luffy: I adopted them!

Uta: we have big brothers now!

Shanks:

Buggy:

Shanks: you told me not to adopt anyone. You didn't tell Lu or Uta.

Buggy: alright. That one's on me.

<><><><><>

Rayleigh, surprise visiting his kids: hello my children, I have swam across the Grandline- is that a kid?

Buggy, Uta on one hip, Sabo on his shoulders, Luffy on his back and Ace clinging to his leg and glaring death at Ray: four, actually.

Ray:

Buggy:

Ray: I'm a grandpa? And you didn't TELL ME??

<><><><><>

Shanks: happy mothers day, Bug!

Buggy: i'm... not a woman?

Shanks: maybe not but you ARE a botto-

Buggy: punches him I'm keeping the roses and chocolates

<><><><><>

Buggy and Shanks teaching them the pirates code, weapons, Haki, sailing, navigation, etc.

Shanks has a moment of "is it really okay to have them on the ship? We were in danger, Bug, it hurt us, what if we're hurting THEM-??"

Buggy smacks him. "We're learning from our dads' mistakes, Red. It's not perfect. We're not perfect. We just need to be the best we can and always put them first. We need to communicate. If we leave them, we can't protect them. If we leave, they'll be on their own. This is the lesser evil. We need to have their security as our priority. We're pirates, but we're parents, too. We can not commit to one over the other, but we can't let it hurt our babies. They're ours now. We are NOT leaving them behind."

<><><><><>

Ace gets a crash course in his history. It's rocky at first, but it's only bc he asks Buggy and Shanks ((separately, mind you)) about "if Gold Roger Had A Kid".

Buggy responds with a snort. "I mean, he kinda had two? But if we had another, then word, I guess? I'd be a little annoyed."

"Bc of his blood?"

"What? No. I'd be pissed that Captain didn't tell me. Asshole move, that. Why do you ask, freckles?"

Shanks, meanwhile, just shrugs. "Ya know how they say blood is thicker than water?"

"... yeah?"

"Yeah, it's bullshit. I wouldn't really care. If Captain had a kid, that's just not my business. I bled with him, for him, and he did for me. I think of him as my father, so I guess that would be sort of like... a little sibling, maybe? But it'd be up to the kid. Your blood doesn't define you, Ace. That's a lesson all good pirates know."

"......... mm."

<><><><><>

Sabo, no warning, in the middle of dinner: I'm a runaway noble.

Shanks: oh neat.

Buggy: oh? Which family? Want me to rob them for you?

Sabo: you aren't mad???

Uta, shrugging: it doesn't matter. You're still a feral jungle brat. Besides, if anyone in the family passes as a fancy pants noble, it's me!

Buggy: 🤨

Uta: ... and mama Bug. I guess.

Luffy: I don't care. Sabo is Sabo.

Ace: yeah, what he said.

Buggy: I will still rob them though.

<><><><><>

That's all I got rn baaaaiiii

Help these are all great 😭 You made my day with this <3

They just keep adopting kids and expanding the family. When they grow up, they get their partners and Zoro, Yamato, Koala, and Perona are there 24/7 because these kids cannot have a normal relationship that isn't based on codependency and both Shanks and Buggy have to deal with four more people around.

Ace telling them he is Roger's child and Sabo telling them he is a noble??? That kills me. They'd be so supportive and protective of them, too. It kills me.

Also, Buggy would ADORE these kids. Rayleigh comes over and sees the whole thing and Shanks thinks he's going to be angry because they didn't tell him but the man is just amazed they managed to have a family of their own without fucking up. Buggy keeps saying it was thanks to him because Shanks wouldn't have been able to do it on his own and, like, everybody agrees.

[quendiviner]

24 and 26!!! Micro fic time!!

YEAAAAA THANK U <3 i know it says micro fic but. well. it's a bit longer than that. also something that happens a few hours before this :3

24: tender & 26: how dare (you)

summary: Klara gets worried that Toby's not answering her messages and decides to go investigate what's going on along with her coworker, Jay.

warnings: implied capture, implied murder

"It's not answering the messages."

"Oooooh, you sound worried. Do you have any specific reason to worry?"

"How dare you to even imply something like that?"

"I'm just kidding, just kidding," Jay looked at the front mirror and noticed Klara glaring at him, "I'm sorry, that was a bad joke," he paused for a moment, before adding, "Can you please watch the road now?"

"Hmmph."

"But, I'm sure it is fine. I mean, maybe it's just walking back home? Or taking a longer public transport trip?"

"Tobias might rarely ever care about its leg problems but it's not so stupid to walk ten kilometers to our apartment. And it does use its phone on walks," Klara said, "It likes to look up things it sees outside for fun. And tell random facts about them."

"Well, hm... maybe it's just enjoying a bit more coffee than he was going to?"

"I don't know. But I have a bad feeling," she muttered and stopped the car. "Do you have access to all the active protocols in projects?"

"There's different kinds of them? Hang on, let me see," Jay took out his tablet and opened the table. After scrolling for a moment, looking for the filters or onformation, he closed the device and shook his head. "Only the public for all workers ones."

Klara stared out of the window for a moment, then suddenly hit the steering wheel with her hand, while yelling, "Fuck!" She took a deep breath and leaned on the wheel. "Ugh. Okay, hm. Can you check how far the cafe is from here? Like, do we have time to stop by for a moment and see what's up?"

"Sure. It's a... six minute ride! I'll drop the coordinates to the car," he swiped the file on his screen, "And, well, I'm sure Sarah will understand if we're late from the meeting. It's not like she can handle everything by herself."

"God, thank you so much," she pressed on the screen to switch gps on and continued to drive.

---

The cafe had barely any people there, with two middle-aged men sitting outside on the terrace and a few others inside. One of the men winked at Jay and the other one giggled a bit as he and Klara entered the cafe.

"Excuse me, hi!" Klara waved at the barista, "Can you help me with something?"

"Sure," they nodded and leaned closer, putting the towel and the half-wet cup on the counter, "Can I get you something?"

"No," she said quickly, before Jay could say something else, "Have you seen this person?"

"I am sorry, but answering this goes against the cafe's privacy rules."

"I have this person's permission to know."

"I am sorry, but answering this goes against the cafe's privacy rules."

Jay smirked. "Well, you could skip the rules, this one time?"

The barista looked at him for a moment, before replying, "I am sorry, my programming does not allow me to," they paused for less than a second, and continued with a recording of Jay's voice, "'skip the rules.'"

Klara covered her face with her arms. "Why did they make the robots obey laws so strictly..." she muttered, and quickly glanced at Jay opening his mouth to reply, "Not even a word about robot uprising."

The robot stood quietly for a moment, before asking, "Can I do something else for you?"

"I'll have a cappucino," Jay said, ignoring Klara's glaring, and waved his wrist in front of the counter. "12 universal credits... How does you wife have money to hang out here so often."

The barista smiled and said, "Got it, be right back!"

Klara looked at him. "If you even think about getting into my car with a cup of coffee-"

"Don't worry, don't worry, I'll drink it here. Though, I did see an empty smoothie cup beneath the passenger seat."

"That was Toby's frappé, actually."

"Ah, of course it gets to ignore the rules," Jay thanked the barista that gave him his cappucino, and continued, "Wait, why was it under passenger seat?"

"Won't you want to know that, you nosy litt-" she stopped mid-sentence. "That table outside. That's its leather jacket on that chair."

Jay followed her outside and stopped by the table. "Maybe it forgot about it?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Tobias would never forget its favorite jacket."

The two men sitting by the other table looked at them. One of them, the one with a red scarf, and who originally winked at Jay, asked, "Are you two looking for something?"

"Huh?" Klara stared at them for a moment, "Un, yeah. How long have you been sitting here?"

"Since the morning!" The other man said, "We're celebrating Peter's," he pointed at the man with red scarf, "divorce here. And seeing how many people he'll manage to stop and talk to by winking. That's how Petey met his spouse. I'm Mark, by the way."

"Speaking of, does this one count?" Petey asked and frowned a little when his friend shook his head.

"Uh, alright, um. Have you seen this person?" Klara showed them a photo of Tobias, "Um, without the cat, though. I'm pretty sure it left her home."

"Oh, hey, we sure did!" Mark nodded. "Short little butch, right? The one with these big brown eyes with this...tender gaze. And a smile. You remember the one, right, Peter?"

"Ooooh yeah! It had this fluffy white sweater on a blue shirt. I complimented the sweater and it said that it actually belongs to its wife. That it likes wearing when it's feeling anxious or sad. Its wife must be a lucky gal."

Klara felt a lump in her throat and hugged the jacket tighter. "Do you, um- Can you tell me what it was doing here?"

Mark nodded. "Sure! First it stopped by to talk to us, then it went inside to get a latte-"

"And a cookie!" Peter added.

"Right. Or maybe two cookies, even. Anyway. Then it went to sit by that one table and waited. What book was it reading?"

Peter had almost answered when Jay intereupted, "A bit less details, please. We're in a hurry."

"Well, okay then! Where was I- oh, right. It was waiting by the table until this man, strawberry blonde hair, greyish eyes. Had this blue jacket, like that one corporation's ads. The one that does all kinds of meds."

Peter muttered, "I think it does more than meds."

While Mark answered him, Jay leaned to Klara and whispered, "That sounds like Archie, the guy whom Samuel appointed as the new lead chemist on the project."

"Makes sense. Tobias said that it needs something from its friend at work."

"Now you don't think it's collecting evidence. do you? You know what that mea-"

Mark cleared his throat. "Ahem. The guy went to get iced tea first, then came back and sat next to this person you're looking for. They seemed to have a friendly chat. We didn't really listen to, but I did hear some talk about 'files' and 'project'."

"Your doe-eyed buddy also got a bit twitchy when the blonde arrived," Peter added, "it looked here and there every now and then, and paid a lot of attention to sudden noises."

"Please, it was like that even before that guy arrived. And did you see its big eyebags? Definitely made me believe into the 'anxiety' part."

Klara sighed. "Right, okay, hang on" she picked up an empty glass on Tobias's table, standing next to a cup with some latte still in it, and a half eaten cookie on it. She pushed away all the thoughts that tried to offer all the worst case scenarios explaining why they weren't finished, poured some water and drank the whole glass. "Alright. Let's get the most important question answered. When did they leave?"

The two men looked at each other. "Three hours ago, probably?"

"The robot didn't notice they left because of the jacket and never ended up taking their dishes away," Peter added while looking at the table.

"How did they leave?" Jay asked.

"Well, this person you're looking for, it said something like it's feeling sleepy or weird-" Mark began.

Peter interrupted him for a moment. "Actually, it said it was feeling strange."

"Yes, anyway. This other guy offered it to stand up and take a few steps, maybe that would help."

"Well, it did that and almost fell! Good thing the tables are sturdy, or else it would've fallen face first on the asphalt."

"Uh-huh. The blonde offered some help for it to stand up. As your person was muttering something about barely feeling its legs, or, hell, everything, a black car drove next to the cafe."

"A black car?" Jay asked, "Do you remember the car's license plate number?"

Mark looked up, then shook his head. "No. But it had this dark red stripe. And a red poppy flower."

Klara muttered something to herself and Jay asked Mark to continue.

"At first your buddy got a bit scared at the car, but the blonde man seemed to somehow calm it down and got it in the car."

Peter snorted. "I'm not actually sure he calmed it down. Looked more like the doe-eye was on a verge of losing his conciousness."

"Don't be ridiculous, Petey, why would it? It was probably just sleepy. It's not like we witnessed a corporate hostage situation or anything."

Klara and Jay exchanged glances. "Wow, okay. Thank you for your help," Klara managed to say and took out her phone. "Are you staying here for longer?"

Peter nodded. "Uh-huh, we still have two hours before the cafe closes at eight."

"Okay, well," she typed a small amount of money on the screen and stretched out her hand. "Here's for a few more cups."

The old man smirked and waved his wrist against hers. "Always happy to help, ma'am."

"Yeah. And good luck with finding this person of yours," Mark smiled.

"And happy divorce say to you," Jay murmured and waved them a good bye.

Klara and Jay walked back to the car.

Klara placed the leather jacket carefully on the passenger seat and stared at it for a moment, until Jack's voice brought her back from her thoughts. "You do know what this all means, right?"

She nodded, ignoring the feeling in her stomach. "We need to get to the lab building."

"Why do you think they are there?"

"The labs have a specific kind of nanobots that effectively gets rid of all kinds of biological substances," she explained, "Officially it's to make the scientists' lives better. In practice it also makes it easier to deal with some problems that occur, of which the corporation doesn't want others to know. Technically it's also against the corporate rules but no one bats an eye unless you complain to internal affairs."

"When you say problems, you mean something like whist-"

"Do not say that out loud."

"God, sometimes you're even more paranoid than your wife."

"It's good to have similar hobbies with your spouse."

"But you do understand what kind of status Tobias has right now?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Klara muttered, "Come on, let's go there. We're half an hour late from that meeting anyway. And call Mabel, please."

"Why?"

"I need to complain to internal affairs."

-------

taglist (reply/dm/ask in tags to be added or removed):

@spaceratprodigy @elvves @dekarios @aeducanthaig @edgepunk

@dickytwister @hiddenbeks @terendelev @tuntau @babylon5

@claudiawolf @velocitic @eluvixns

[buildarocketboys]

a tiny random peterick prompt from moi: argument/fight that turns into sex/making out lol (interpret as loosely as you want)

Thanks babe - sorry I took so long to get around to posting this! I'm also gonna use this to fill the prompt 'Punch in the face' to 'Teddy bear' on my hurt/comfort bingo card @sweetspicybingo

Title: wanna sleep on every piece of fuzz and stuffing that comes out of you

Fandom: Fall Out Boy

Pairing: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz

Additional tags: Smut, Face punching, Rutting, Coming in pants, First time, Sleep Cuddles, Happily Ever After, Getting Together, Non-consensual groping, everything else is consensual Pete is just inappropriate

Posted on AO3 here!

Pete is being particularly annoying today. They're attempting to write some songs, but Pete keeps distracting him.

They're trying this new thing, where Pete writes the lyrics, and Patrick turns them into song.

Except, well, "lyrics" is an incredibly generous way of describing the reams of rambling scribbles Pete writes in notebooks before handing them to Patrick, expecting him to make miracles.

They're good, Patrick has to admit that. Better than anything he's ever written. Secretly he thinks that Pete might be some kind of genius. What Pete writes is poetry.

Not that he'd ever tell Pete that.

The things Pete writes, however, are not songs. 

Even so, the accidental rhythms jump out at Patrick from the page and he gets excited about turning them into one. 

And then he changes or adds a word to make the lyrics fit the melody that appears in his head, and Pete says, "Uh, no. You can't change that."

"Why not?" Patrick whines, getting more frustrated every time.

"Because it changes the meaning. Sounds stupid," Pete says every time. Then he won't elaborate.

The more he does it, the more Patrick feels like he's calling him stupid. Like Patrick is too dumb to get Pete's poetic soul, or whatever.

His face gets hotter and hotter, until he manages to say, "Maybe you can look at them when I'm done? Let me make them into songs and then you can give me all your criticisms?"

Patrick is impressed with himself. He doesn't even yell.

Pete, however, looks hurt. "Fine," he says, and retreats. Into the kitchen.

Where he loudly proceeds to make a smoothie.

Patrick is pretty certain that Pete Wentz is the most annoying guy in the world.

He growls in frustration, then digs his headphones out and shoves them on his ears. They block out most of the noise.

Now he can finally concentrate.

Only...now the moment's gone. When he looks back at the words, the melody's gone. He groans, covering his face with his hands.

He scans the paragraphs, searching for words that jump out at him. He flips through the notebook, determined to find something worthwhile.

Then he jumps as he feels a hand crawling up his back.

He twists round to find Pete with his hands held innocently behind his back. He pulls the one of the headphones' cups off his ear.

"What the fuck, Pete?" he says, putting all his venom into it.

Pete shrugs. "Wasn't me," he says, looking infuriatingly smug. "It was a hot girl."

Patrick sighs and rolls his eyes. Pete does this sometimes. He's not sure if he's making fun of him or trying to make him feel better about having no game but it makes Patrick feel all weird and squirmy inside. Which he does not appreciate.

He eyes Pete caustically, then grits out, "Fuck you, Pete."

Pete has the temerity to act upset. "Aww, c'mon Patrick, I'm only teasing."

"Well, don't," Patrick says shortly. Then, "Did you actually make smoothies? Or were you just being loud and annoying on purpose?"

Pete's eyes sparkle with a worrying mixture of playfulness and resentment. Patrick swallows.

"I did, actually. If you ask nicely, maybe you can even have one."

Patrick glares at Pete, then says, "Fine. Please may I have a smoothie?" He bats his lashes sarcastically.

Pete rolls his eyes but Patrick can tell he's fighting a smile. Pete loves when he's a little bitch.

He leaves the room and returns with a smoothie in each hand. He hands one to Patrick, then slips onto the floor next to Patrick.

Way too close.

Patrick sips at the smoothie, trying to ignore how close Pete is to him - pressed up against his body on Patrick's right side, from his thighs all the way up to his shoulders - and how hot he feels, despite the ice cream in his drink.

Then Pete puts his hand on Patrick's thigh.

Suddenly Patrick is trembling, though he's not sure why. Pete touches him all the time. Mostly he's just being annoying, but sometimes...Patrick's not so sure.

Either way, Patrick is already on edge. He sets his glass down carefully and then puts his hand on Pete's, picking it up and moving it physically off his leg.

He just catches Pete's smirk as Pete immediately puts his hand back where it was, crawling his fingers further up Patrick's leg.

"Would you quit it?!" Patrick explodes.

Pete removes his hand and bats his eyelashes at Patrick innocently. "Stop what?" he asks.

"Stop-" Patrick has to pause to swallow the lump in his throat. "touching me," he says softly.

Pete's eyes widen. "Oh, you mean like this?" he asks, and then pushes his hand under Patrick's shirt, squeezing his stomach.

Patrick doesn't have time to think about it.

He punches Pete in the face.

"Hey, what the fuck man?!" Pete says, sounding really pissed off. Like he hadn't just been groping Patrick's tummy.

"STOP FUCKING TOUCHING ME!" Patrick yells.

Pete does the exact opposite of stopping. He launches himself at Patrick, knocking him backwards and landing on top of him.

Pete looks down at him, clearly at a loss for what to do next.

Patrick is struggling to breathe.

"Well?" he gasps. "You gonna hit me or what?"

What, is the answer apparently.

Pete kisses him.

Patrick doesn't do anything for several long moments, his body and brain going slack with shock.

When he finally comes to his senses, all he can say is, "What the fuck, man?" He means for it to come out as angry as he had been mere moments ago, but there's a whine to the edge of his words. Patrick hears it as they come out of his mouth and he cringes.

"Oh c'mon, Patrick," Pete says. "It's not like you don't want it." To demonstrate his point, he reaches between their bodies and squeezes Patrick's rapidly hardening dick.

Patrick manages to turn his moan into a growl of rage as he pushes Pete off him.

Pete looks up at him, panting  as Patrick gets to his feet.

Patrick looks down at Pete: panting, sweaty, his usually artfully disheveled hair just, well, disheveled. His eyes travel over Pete's body down to his- well. Patrick's eyes widen. Pete clearly isn't unaffected either.

"Fuck you," Patrick spits out, running his foot over Pete's leg, nearly but not quite to his crotch, before, aiming a kick at the point where his ass meets the floor.

"Don't mind if you do," Pete says, waggling his eyebrows at Patrick.

Patrick puts his hands on his hips. "Really." His voice is completely flat.

Pete shakes his head, bangs falling in front of his eyes. It's maddeningly endearing. "Can't you see the effect you have on me, Patrick?"

Patrick looks away, feeling his cheeks burning, before running his foot along Pete's leg again, this time brushing against Pete's crotch. It's not a trick of the light; Pete is hard.

Patrick gulps.

"I've never...I don't..." Patrick says, shaking his head, even as his dick contradicts his words.

Pete shrugs, looking suddenly shy. "Me neither," he admits. "But how hard can it be, right?"

"Pretty hard, I reckon," Patrick mumbles, which makes Pete break out into undignified snort-giggles. "Oh come on, it wasn't that funny!"

Pete just looks up at him. "You're adorable, do you know that?"

Patrick ignores that, like he does every time Pete says something like that, instead offering a hand to help him up from the floor. 

Pete takes it, letting himself be pulled up.

Then Patrick hauls Pete up in his arms with a grunt, carrying Pete to his room and dumping him on his bed.

"Now that was hot."

"Wanna make out?" Patrick says abruptly, because he figures that's where this is heading and he doesn't want to waste time having more embarrassing conversations.

Pete grins wolfishly. "Always, babe."

Patrick narrows his eyes. They'll have to have a word about the petname thing later.

Right now, though, he straddles Pete on the bed and leans down to kiss him.

And then stops, suddenly self-conscious. "Is this OK?" he asks.

Pete gives him a look. "Patrick-"

Patrick feels himself blush. "No I mean...am I OK being on top of you? Are you comfortable enough?" Sure, he'll get all up on Pete when they're fighting, but that's not meant to be pleasurable. Patrick is suddenly very aware of how much bigger and heavier he is than Pete, despite Pete having maybe an inch on him, height-wise.

Instead of answering, Pete leans up and kisses Patrick. Then he pulls Patrick down on top of him and kisses him for longer.

Patrick groans into the kiss. He's kissed girls before, sure (though not many) but it's never been like this. Pete's mouth is warm and wet, his tongue exploratory, his mouth demanding. His kiss is hard, almost biting, but Patrick finds he likes it. His dick jumps in his pants and he ruts against Pete without meaning to.

Pete moans and pulls him down even further, letting his legs fall open then wrapping them around Patrick's ample hips, pulling them flush together.

Pete bucks up against him and they both gasp.

A grin plays over Pete's lips before Patrick dives back down onto Pete, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, wiping that smile right off his face.

Their making out and rutting is about as awkward and undignified as their fighting, but damn if Patrick isn't getting off on it.

Pete pants directly into his mouth. "So good, Patrick," he moans. "So hot."

Patrick thrusts his hips harder, his dick rubbing against Pete's through the material of their pants. He doesn’t trust himself to speak. He wishes he could feel Pete's skin on his, but that would mean breaking contact, and neither of them are willing to do that right now.

Patrick pokes at Pete’s lips with his tongue and Pete sucks on it, pulling a moan from Patrick that doesn't even sound like him. He's so close. Closer than he has any right to be, considering he's A) still fully clothed, B) not a teenager anymore, and C) not gay.

But Pete just does something to him. He rearranges his insides. 

The bastard.

"Patrick," Pete gasps out, bucking wildly up against him, and Patrick thinks smugly he might not be the only one who's close.

"Not yet," he murmurs. He's trying not to think about it, but he's already scared of what comes next. What comes after.

Pete whines. "Soon," he says. "Please."

The sound of Pete, wrecked, below him, leads Patrick to rut harder and faster against Pete, the friction too much and not enough.

He groans into Pete's mouth and sucks on his tongue.

Pete whines into his mouth and sucks on Patrick's lip.

Patrick gasps and bucks against him, feeling Pete’s hardness pressing back against his own.

"Fuuuuck," he says. He ruts into Pete a few more times, and then he's coming, wet in his pants, like a teenager.

He collapses against Pete, embarrassed and elated.

"Wait, Patrick, did you just-?" Pete says, like he's surprised.

Patrick nods. As if Pete didn't know. If he's a dick about it, Patrick's gonna kill him.

Pete's face lights up with a grin. Patrick braces himself as Pete opens his mouth.

"Me too," Pete says, and Patrick realizes Pete's erection isn't pressed up against his body anymore.

"Oh." Then Patrick laughs. 

Pete laughs too.

"That was your fault," Patrick says, but he's grinning.

"Oh don't worry, I'll be taking full credit."

Patrick takes in their twin grins for a moment longer before rolling off Pete.

"Hey!" says Pete, then he's diving under Patrick's arm and laying his head on Patrick's chest. "You didn't think you'd get away that easily, did you?"

Patrick looks down at Pete's head pressed to his chest, his heart, and says honestly, "I didn't really know what was gonna happen next."

Pete looks up at him adoringly and Patrick can't resist the urge to pet his hair. "Oh Patrick," he says. "Now we live happily ever after."

That surprises a laugh out of Patrick. "Yeah, OK," he says. He means to be sarcastic, but he finds that he believes Pete. He’s always believed in Pete. And if Pete believes in him, believes in the two of them together, then maybe Patrick does too.

He pulls Pete tighter to his chest, playing with his hair.

Pete sighs happily. "I always knew you'd be a big teddy bear," he says. "'m gonna sleep so well now I've got you."

Patrick snorts. Pete's chronic insomnia is no secret to either of them. But to his surprise, Pete is actually dozing off, starting to snore gently against Patrick's chest.

Patrick spends half a second worrying about the state of their underwear before deciding he doesn't give a fuck and letting his eyes fall closed with Pete dozing on top of him. Heart to heart.

[nevermore117]

figured I might talk a little about how I've been making soap so yall can judge my dirty ass workstation

I'm making a new batch this evening so it seems like a good way to show everything from the top. This is a long post, I just like sharing my hobbies and I think soapmaking is fucking cool ok

Part 1:

Essentially, when you make soap you're mixing sodium hydroxide (or another similar base like potassium hydroxide) with water and oils and blending them up. When mixed they go through a process called saponification, during which (from my rudimentary understanding) the fatty acid tails break off from the fat structure because the hydrogen atom in the NaOH (sodium hydroxide) really wants to bond in that spot instead. The Na is an ion and breaks off from the molecule in water anyways, and it and the remaining O bond with the fatty acid tail and make a soap. Don't ask me any more please I'm not out of gen chem 2 yet.

All that means is, you take some water and some oils and some sodium hydroxide and mix it together, let it react, and you get soap. The key is the ratios of oils, water, and sodium hydroxide.

The thing is, sodium hydroxide is a strong base. Which is kind of like a strong acid in how bad it is to touch. You don't want it on your hands, you don't want it in your mouth, and jesus fucking christ it WILL blind you if you get it in your eyes. So PPE (personal protective equipment) is a must. And not just some gardening gloves either, you need proper eye and skin protection.

I have latex gloves, a long-sleeved denim shirt I got from my old job for free, and some decent protective goggles. All of this goes on before the lye is opened and doesn't come off until I'm completely done with everything. PPE isn't a joke.

Anyways. When you're making soap you need stuff like measuring bowls of course, since like I mentioned it's the ratios that matter. I measure everything by the gram with a digital scale. Silicone spatulas are also a must, I have two.

I also have an immersion blender. You COULD stir by hand, but I'm not eager to splash 10M lye around willy nilly so I got the blender. It just makes it easier and gives a better final product. I keep my tools separate from anything I would eat with bc, yknow,

, so no smoothies for this bad boy. Not pictured are plain spoons for adding stuff to the measuring bowls. I use glass bowls bc the lye can corrode metal.

Once I measure out an oil/butter I dump it into a big glass measuring cup. I could use a bowl but the measuring cup has a handle and I'm gonna be heating it up later.

Did you think I was done fearmongeroing about sodium hydroxide? Nope! It isn't just bad to touch, it's also bad to breathe! And it generates heat when you dilute it! That's hardly unique to lye, but it's still a little scary and cool.

The lye comes in little round pellets that I have to dissolve into a specific amount of water to get the right concentration of sodium hydroxide solution, and while that's happening it gives off vapors that SUCK to breathe. Ask me how I know. It's not "gonna kill you, call 911 asap", but it's "OWCH my LUNGS". You know if you breathed some in, it stings for a bit when you breathe in like something irritated the lining of your esophagus. Because it did.

So you have to make soap (or at least dilute your sodium hydroxide) in a well-ventilated area. Hence why I do this in my dirty ass garage instead of a nice clean kitchen. I have a big fan set up right next to my water bath (for keeping the lye cooler as I dilute it plus emergency water for washing), and I open the garage door to get that shit out. No enclosed spaces for me, please.

Now... actually making the soap look and smell nice. I have fragrance oils I add, plus I can also add stuff like soap colorant (NOT FOOD DYE), clay (like a clay mask), exfoliants, etc. I just kinda fuck around with trying new oils together. The appeal of this hobby for me is trying new things and experimenting.

I'll update more with actual in-progress photos once I'm done. I took these after cleaning all my supplies, I have some work I have to do before actually making soap bc it takes a while to measure everything out. Hopefully I'll find some time later this afternoonnnn

[hecatemoon87]

A Modern James Delaney Story

Chapter Ten - master list

"A costume party? But it's...June," Tala said, looking down at James' phone on the table. She was idly chewing on her straw to the smoothie that she was drinking.

James sat opposite of her, drinking a black coffee. "Yeah, I know. If you haven't noticed, rich people are strange, Tala," he said, picking up his phone and returning it to his pocket.

"I dunno, this is like, a public thing, isn't it?" she said, then started sucking her straw and making that really annoying sound when there's just that small bit at the bottom, but the straw isn't catching it.

James cringed and pulled away the mostly empty plastic cup from her. "Hey! There's some left," she said, trying to grab it back.

"I'll buy you another one," James said, standing up and tossing the cup into the waste bin, Then returning to his seat.

"Rude," Tala said, pouting.

"Why do you care if it's a public event? And stop saying thing, use an object or a noun. You're a bloody journalist for Christ sakes," James said, picking up his coffee and taking a drink.

"Yes, Mr. Delaney, I'll try to use good English," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Tala," James groaned, wanting her to answer just one of his questions directly for once.

"Look, we've been in this café for just thirty minutes and at least ten people have glanced over here, noticing that the richest man in Canada is in a smoothie shop with some random native girl," she said.

"So? Why are you embarrassed by that?" he asked.

"Huh? No, I'm not embarrassed, I thought...maybe you'd be," she said, wishing she had her empty cup to fiddle with.

"No, I'm not. I'm with a beautiful and intelligent woman, who, yes, at times, frustrates me to no end, but nonetheless a woman who I wish to spend most of my time with," he said.

"I'm shy," she said, suddenly and looked away from him.

"Shy?" James said, laughing. But when she glared at him he stopped. "Sorry...well, elaborate, I don't see you as a shy person."

"At the charity thing, I mean...ball," she said correcting herself when James narrowed his eyes at her. "They took a lot of pictures of you. And at the beach themed party, they did the same. I like my personal life, I don't want my picture taken a thousand times and be in gossip magazines," she said.

"I understand. But, Tala, if you're going to be with me, that's going to happen," he said.

"I know, I'm just...I'm nervous about it," she said. "Also, I'm the first native girl you've dated, the press will have a field day. I can read the headlines now: Delany Family Fucks Over The People of Nootka Sound, And Now James Delaney Fucks Nootka Sound Woman," she said, in an official news person voice.

"If any newspaper does that, I'll burn the place to the ground," James said in a very serious voice, making Tala believe he would do just that.

"What are you dressing up as?" she asked.

"Well, it's a Period costume party. I had a costume created around the time period of 1814. I had my tailor fashion something from an image of my great, great, great grandfather, James Delaney the First," he said.

"James Delaney the First? And what does that make you?"

"The Second," he said.

"And am I to play Pocahontas to your John Smith?" she said, folding her arms.

"What? No, you don't have to dress like that. I'm not asking you to come because of...I just wanted you to come with me, look, I'm sorry, forget I...." James said, stumbling over his words.

She secretly smiled to herself as James stammered and groveled, she liked keeping him on his toes.

"Okay, I'll go and I want to wear my traditional clothing," she said.

"Oh, but I thought..."

"You offended me? Not entirely. The thing that actually offends me is that you still haven't freaking told people that you're part Nuu-chah-nulth," she said, kicking from under the table.

"Ow," he said, wincing and rubbing his leg. "Tala, I told you..."

"Yeah, yeah, save it, Delaney," she said, standing up from the table. He looked up at her confused. Tala thought he looked terribly adorable, like a little boy, only wanting to please her.

"Well, let's go, this thing is in a few days isn't it?"

James nodded and stood up. They walked out to his black jaguar and they got inside. James started the engine and looked over at her. "Um, where are we going?"

"My grandparents' home, I need to get my stuff," she said.

"Wait...you want me to come? Tala, are you sure? It's just been two weeks," he said, meaning the time they had dated.

Tala leaned forward and hit the app for GPS. She put in the address and sat back in the comfortable leather seat. "Just drive, James."

[castle-dominion]

c3x19 law & murder

Edit: I'm gathering clips for tumblr rn but it is taking way long & I am disorganizing my clips so I might need to pause for the day, even tho these dvds are overdue at the library...

This guy is sending looks over all scary-like, & this guy looks like he needs to ask for help or a break soon. Why ask him? Why not ask the people who are already beside you? bc this guy is wearing a suit & looks like he knows what's going on? It reminds me of that story where a boyfriend breaks up with his gal bc she is uncaring & then she's ruminating on this on the bus & when someone dies right in front of her she does care; she cares that he coughed up blood onto her shoe.

Don't u usually go to crime scenes & THEN they go to court?

Casually picks up a big, unsmoothied celery leaf what's the sense in living longer if you have to drink that We call em professional development days here bc in catholic school we also had faith development days so two FD days would make no sense, we had to have PD days & FD days. Father daughter <3 wait alexis why r u mumbling into that drink? She did not she LOVES my breakfast smoothies! Going to take another sip before he realizes what he's doing Pick up a gal there, mr castle ;) Weird way to answer the phone ("for castle press one")

Brought a coffee : ) Castle & his poker group (won't clip) (except he walks into the wall & that was funny) Ah cyanide. I had a cyanide interest one. Mm the coffee bitterness could hide the cyanide bitterness. (read a fic once where someone used almond flavoured coffee, or almond milk or smth)

Dirtbag trifecta XD clipping this (& getting their outfits) Oh outfit update: Espt: leather jacket, lapels as usual, collared shirt underneath with zippered breast pockets, badge on neck, no tie. Ryan: brown overcoat, grey vest (I think), lighter, warm purply grey dress shirt, red tie. Maybe it's a blue dress shirt. That was my initual thought but it's so warm. & it is also patterned, not with ink I think but with texture. Becks: Red coat (tho I think it a different coat than the one we've seen her in before), scarf, other stuff under that which I cannot see due to the scarf but I see how her shirt's buttons are on a white lining & tbh it's kinda ugly. Castle: His usual. Blue shirt. Black jacket. Looks nice & dark too, not the usual technically-grey-but-we-call-it-black black. I mean it is technically grey but shush.

Heck yeah don't let your client speak to people

Good on the son for stopping the dad.

Lot of camera time. Love the way ryan said that & his outfit & there's just smth abt his cadence & tone & how much he lets his voice vibrate What was that "oh you do?" thing? He's a detective, ofc he got an apb out.

Second chances, but not fifth chances, I respect that. Man also has a decent outfit. Having watched this episode, I notice. Brother: He looked out for people. *eye contact just for a sec but I felt it*

(I don't rly know what to clip...) I'm marked for death, man!

Ugh. Big scary black guy we get it shut up bro. I liked you at first. Now you're just annoying & repeating that right in front of LT, a tall, black, intimidating cop Oh would you look at that chance. Weird how they just have TVs in the corners like that. & ryan can just easily pull up the footage to that exact moment? He might have had it bookmarked ig... Calls him cousin wardell lmao killer cup of joe that was great that was great

I mean yeah (the juror badges on their shirts might be a hint) He's not wrong tho rich powerful white friends can feel safe Yep, this man has a point

gsp tracked her phone with precinct supplies? Yuck. oh nvm with an app This is why I always have my location off. Mr app man. & be justified! He's right I guess... (remember this for s7)

She says it's cyanide laced but then says it isn't? Weird way to phrase it. He died approximately one hour after taking the meds, maybe he took em at 8.07 not 8.13 exactly. True, but that doesn't necessarily mean the killer is a woman

(Clipping this) KR: Isn't every murder a tragedy? esposito implied backstory moments (we will see in abt two seasons) Why's he quoting sum kinda poetry? Is that Shakespeare? JE, looking at him, eyebrows crunched: Bro u'r not castle KR: Yeah I know I'm not castle JE: Then stop trying to talk like him KR: What, I'm not allowed to reference the bard? (so yes shaksp) (door creaks & blows; they draw their guns) KR: I'm a renaissance man (sure bestie) JE: Memorizing one quote does not make you a renaissance man. (reminds me of that scene in stranger things where Steve just Can't quote sherlock holmes) KR: What if I memorized two? (No... No babe) JE: Have you? Memorized two? KR: No (AFSDJKH) but what if I did? (BRO I DON'T THINK THAT'S HOW IT WORKS also u called yourself a renaissance man & you're quoting "the bard" but you only know one? I mean I love it but dang what is even going on?) JE: KR: *nods upwards at the door* (me: sjhfksjdhjh) JE: Depends on the quote *opens door* (ok I'd like to point out that these two are just having a conversation while assuming someone is back there & waiting to shoot them. Or maybe they're conversing so that the person back there doesn't realize they're onto him.) & then this guy comes running out & Ryan flips him over his shoulder like a wrestling takedown but actually it's more like what my parents used to do for swing dancing except insted of landing on her feet, he fell on the ground; & ryan stretches his neck after that stunt. But Guns Don't Make Sounds When You Flail Them Around

my man looks a bit like marcus gates tbh

They tested Every Capsule So tru bestie. Ex-con instincts. I hear the cops & I hide. I like this man. I also looove their outfits. Ryan's hair is so spikey. they are so in synch.

I did it I did it I did it! You killed him? Oh my god no! I love her

sad that the clerk doesn't have the money for rent. I love her XD

Ooh Captain's tie! Purple, patterned but quiet.

Castle say "I have connections" not "a friend went there" She looks so much younger back in this season tbh, she's so baby. I think lack of eyeliner is part of it. Don't reveal your hand. Say you trust her. Say you trust her. Ask her to trust you too, tell her you won't be mad. Say you are concerned & you want her to tell you, you don't want to pry. (Cool dads don't pry.) ok but now he knows you took the train there & bought something with your bank card. Technically I would have to be the government to do that.

Beckett is so right. It doesn't matter to alexis if what he did was so wrong.

is it at all possible? YES! did I know anything? NO! At least he asks the son/brother for confirmation.

Karnacki. Lou Karnacki. District attorney.

Ew I remember this episode now. This DA thing. Once. Today.

Ew idk if this outfit is ok or if ryan's yellow tie is just straight up ugly. I can't tell. Brown jacket, nice dark-ish somewhat desaturated green, yellow tie. Plus a little irish flag. (oh fun story, yesterday I was driving with my mom bc I was volunteering at her work & I saw a flag, it was hanging oddly so I couldn't tell if it was the flag of india or ireland. I said this out loud & then mum asked if I had used hand sanitizer. "Why?" 'because it smells like alcohol in here' & then I looked out the window & the building with the flag & in big fancy writing on the side surrounded by art it said: Irish Centre of [City]. Actually I fudged the timeline a bit but this is basically what happened.) & esposito's outfit is like smth I would wear at home. It is not a shirt I'd wear to work. Nice long sleeves, blue, buttons but no collar. Castle's blue shirt actually has red on it castle & his apps XD My man needs a real magnifying glass not just an app. XD clipping this three reasons thing JE: Nice. *smacks castle's shoulder* RC: Ah JE: Sorry. *pats his shoulder gently*

Maybe he just thought it was fun to be part of the jury of a murder he did. Maybe he'll make a habit of killing ppl & serving on their juries

12 angry men was a great show.

he is the victim AND suspect but FOR DIFFERENT MURDERS Six degrees of separation bro

You found the phone or CSU found the phone? KR, in a secretary voice: District attorney's office uwu

Oh I love Dawn. Second time he's in the precinct, & all for this Girl u probably should speak in a more polite tone just to preserve his ego. Lou DA man chill tf out (the camera-ing is good) I agree you should have told him but I'm glad you didn't bc it revealed stuff abt him.

Sorry my little bro is playing portal two & I've been listening to him & I just died when wheatley said "I'm going to attempt a manual override on this wall" bc he literally just breaks it down.

Castle is sure holding that coffee weird. So Beckett can pick it up. KB: Yes? *smiles a bit* I like castle's ampersand.

At least this man has a lawyer. Auto theft, not murder. So valid. that bad boy was all the way back My dad is 6'5" my mom is 5'4", switching car seats sucked. The ONLY prints they found were his? sus. (sherlock holmes: the hardest part to see is the thing that is not there. or smth like that idk)

Yes otherwise we'd just be looking for tall people.

playing cards in the foreground Yes communication & apologies & alexis being pretty & hold on he has naked heat as a background? Mum said u put stuff u care abt there (my old phone had a lockscreen & background of unus annus) & then mum showed the pic of my brothers & me uwu. *mumbling* yw wr shhplhftng? Girl your friends went shoplifting? They're kids, they're girls who go to a good school why would they do that? For the thrill of it? I'm glad you're telling ur dad but maybe don't talk about this in the police station. & hey, it was very smart of you to leave the money & the note to rectify the wrong without implicating your friends or getting anyone arrested. Good on you. (Except u'r not the one who should have paid for it.) Oh & rick definitely shoplifted as a kid. She's not going to narc on them & heck yeah rick, angry & proud. Judged by the company you keep Girl don't make a promise u can't keep. Gives him a little pat before leaving.

WAIT FEELING RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE FRIENDS YOU KEEP A PLOT B PLOT

I don't think I'll clip that thing with alexis

Only two sets of prints? Not Lyla's? It's the DA isn't it

Ah the brother of the juror. So valid bestie. The b plot parallels. Little trust fund baby thinks he's so gangster until they hit a pothole. Yeah we should abolish guns. If u want to fight, use your hands. Well that's what happened! They did think it was auto theft!

What just happened with the captain? (btw sometimes they need to open up their aperture or.. close it.. idk. they need to make things all focused, not some sharp others hella blurred)

Lmao it's the booze from the old haunt episode! In Court, don't ask a question you don't Know the answer to. Yeah well politics & cops. It's like when brackenreid put away a criminal but for the wrong crime. Also this guy legit goes by lou? I p much exclusively go by my nickname but if I had a nameplate in my office it would have my full name (tho my nametag at work is my nickname) Isn't that illegal? to record like that?

Who is this rando? Is that the brother? Doesn't look like the DA. Oh wait it's Stephen. The brother of lyla. Oof, I feel bad for Montgomery. I feel like we could have seen castle playing poker with him lol, the da, the judge, the mayor, & the captain. "Your boss, your boss's boss, & the one who signs your warrants." & knowing the future pieces of this season, I see montgomery talking. All the good he's done, even tho he messed up. Montgomery is technically talking about his friend & colleague, Lou the DA. For those of us that have seen the series? Mm.

Castle fishing for a date XD I love when beckett puts on her coat & then takes it out again. It's times like this I remember I used to call myself a lesbian.

Yeah good episode. & great foreshadowing.

[ayazure]

You as a barista !

Genre : genshin geo characs x you, fluff(?)

About : Genshin geo characters buying from your workplace, but they seem to be starstruck by you ✧

Warnings : gn!reader

彡albedo

He's definitely the college student (with a hectic schedule) who's a regular at the cafe.

Y'know the one who usually studies there and grabs a coffee, all that pizzazz.

Since he's a dedicated regular, you know his usual orders. Caramel macchiato ! Though, he orders americano sometimes.

From your knowledge, you'd think that he's there everyday just to study, but in fact he uses that excuse at times, just to see you.

How you work diligently, how you beam a polite smile at customers despite your tiredness. How you swiftly whip up the coffee and drinks. He adores them all<3

He found himself catching feelings for you at one point. Hesitantly, he left a note with his phone number in the table. Alas, you thought it was a scratch and threw it along with the paper cups.

He was wondering why you didn't bother to contact. But he remembered that he was a stranger to you and you sending a message to him was a wishful thinking.

Actually, relationships seems tiring to him. You changed his mind though ! And he wants to try and start one with you ♡.

He's currently taking it slow by striking up conversations with you and visiting the coffee shop often. He's hoping that you'd notice him and his feelings one day.

" Good afternoon y/n, and yes the usual please.. Ah btw I would like to point something out.. With this, I certainly hope that I don't sound weird but your hair looks nice today"

彡yunjin

She's a friend of yours ! The type who would come once in a while to check in on you and support your job.

As for her usual order/s, she indulges in anything tea related, also boba !

While in the cafe, she gives you tons of updates about school and helps you with needed requirements–may it be thesis, research or group activities.

You'd say that it's okay since you know how busy she is recently. Especially that she's a part of her family's opera troupe and also multiple clubs. Regardless, she insists a whole lot.

Since you've been such a dear friend to her (understanding her likes and being appreciative of her talents and culture) she feels that she had the need to help you in any way.

She absolutely adores you ! She finds your diligence and hardworking nature to be the most admirable about you. When she passes by, she cheers you on with all her heart.

"Y/n dear !! Yeah, just finished my dailies at the theater club. Oh yeah, here are photocopied notes for the exams next week. My drink's on the house? Don't you dare, you don't have to pay me back I promise! Well, I guess you can attend my performance at the end of the month, deal?"

彡Itto

Asks for your number the moment he orders for the first time.

No worries though ! He doesn't mean any harm and he certainly isn't a creep. He just blurted it out because he's in awe !

You turned that one down politely and he apologizes for acting rashly.

When he gets the smoothie he orders and settles down, he turns beet red. Of course, his companions would tease him all day about it.

The next day, he would come back. Although hesitantly as he spent 10 minutes debating with himself to go in or not after the catastrophe. He ends up entering and you didn't mind at all since he's a valued customer now.

When there's not much people in the cafe, he won't hesitate to converse with you and talk about silly but funny topics.

"Goodmorning sunshine ! You look good today ! I mean.. uh the coffee shop looks dazzling as always, I mean you too. But anyways, I'll have a peach fruit tea."

This has been in my drafts for quite a while now ^^; That's why I decided to finish it at 2 am... (Again, my motivation only comes at these hours). I'll do a part 2 (w/ Noelle, Ningguang, Gorou and Zhongli) next time<33

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #46 (part two)

previously - Journal Entry #46 (part one)

Yuri

Yesterday wasn’t perfect, but I’m happy to report that it was a little easier than Thursday. And if you'll pardon me for metaphorically patting myself on the back, I must say I'm rather proud of myself for improving our day by coming up with solutions to two of our biggest challenges.

In the wee hours of the morning, while Victor lay with his head on a pillow in my lap, and I was staring blankly at an infomercial on TV, it suddenly came to me how I was going to get some nourishment into him. The infomercial was for an allegedly fabulous juice machine that was supposed to help people improve their health, and I think that's what sparked the idea. Honestly, though, it was so obvious that I don't know why I didn't think of it without being prompted by some terribly over-scripted television advertising.

We have our own juice machine.

Victor uses it all the time to make drinks for himself with hemp and kale and spinach and Watcher alone knows what other assorted grains and foul-tasting green vegetables. They look disgusting, but he says they're packed with nutrients. He also uses it to make drinks for me; ones with berries, carrots, apples, peaches or bananas, that taste sweet and delicious and that have more pleasant and appetizing colours like pink or orange. He usually mixes my juice with coconut water, soy yogurt and protein powder, creating a smoothie out of it. Sometimes, one of Victor's protein smoothies is the only food I can tolerate in a day, especially when I'm really ill.

So, when the sun finally came up, and I was feeling hungry myself, I eased my husband's head off my lap and headed for the kitchen to concoct the best smoothie I could. We didn't have a lot of fruit — I realized I'd have to go grocery shopping soon — but we did have apples and blueberries. Those, with yogurt and protein powder, made a nice pinkish-purple drink that I hoped would be as appealing to Victor as it was to me. I mixed some maple syrup into his, and a pinch of cinnamon into mine.

I have two big tumblers with lids, which Victor jokingly calls my 'sippy cups'. To be fair, they do look like extra-large versions of toddler cups, so the nickname is justified. My favourite one is clear with a delicate purple, pink and white floral design. The other one is translucent turquoise with an ocean motif. They're ideal for when I'm too ill to get out of bed because they're less likely to spill, and they're made of plastic, so if my hands are shaking too much and I accidentally drop one of them, it's not going to shatter and make a huge mess.

With an outsized sippy cup in each hand, I made my way back to the sitting room. Victor was awake, and he was tracking my movement with his eyes, although I'm not sure he could see exactly what I was doing as I set the cups on the table.

"What were you up to in the kitchen?" he asked.

"Making breakfast," I told him.

He frowned slightly. "I'm not hungry."

I crossed my arms and glared at him, exasperated by his response. His ongoing refusal to eat was nothing but pure stubbornness on his part, and we both knew it. I was tired, and I absolutely did not want us to have another night like last night, and I knew I wouldn't feel the least bit guilty if I had to boss him around a little to get the result we both needed.

"Victor Thomas Edward Nelson, don't you dare tell me you're not hungry when you haven't eaten a solid meal in a week," I said, feigning more annoyance than I actually felt, for effect. "I hope you know I touched food for you, so you'd better make an effort to try it, at least."

To my utter surprise, he laughed. "Are you trying to sound like my mother?"

Flustered by his unexpected reaction, I stammered, "No. It's just... you can't not be hungry. You're always hungry. I'm worried about you not eating, and... I don't know. Last night was awful, and we can’t go through that again. It's too much..." I had to stop at that point, because my throat was starting to feel tight.

"I'm sorry," Victor said.

"I want you to eat. Please."

"What did you make?"

"I made you a smoothie. I put it in one of the sippy cups, so you shouldn't need me to help you with it."

"Okay," he said. "And what about you? Did you make yourself one?"

"Yeah."

"Good. You need to eat too. You put protein powder in it, right?"

"I did," I said. "In yours as well. I thought you could use it."

"Thanks."

I helped him sit up, and then I passed his smoothie to him. The casts make it so he can't bend his wrists or first set of knuckles, and it looked a little funny to see him clasping the cup between both hands and raising it to his mouth like a toddler would do, but I was too grateful to be amused for long.

His first swallow was tentative, but then he gulped several mouthfuls before pausing for breath again.

"Like it?" I inquired.

"Yeah," he said. "It's good."

"Take your time with it. You don't have to finish it all in one go."

"I'm gonna finish it, and I, uh... I'm probably gonna want another one," he said sheepishly. "Sorry. I guess I really was hungry after all."

"I knew you were," I said.

"Thanks for touching food for me. I know that's hard for you."

"You're worth it," I said, "And if you want another smoothie after that one, you can have mine. I'll make myself another one later."

He nodded. "You'd better. I'll be checking to make sure."

That sounded more like my Victor. I was relieved that he seemed a little better, although my optimism was of the cautious variety. I wasn't expecting miracles, and I was no longer living under the false hope that everything would magically go back to the way it was before, but even the tiniest bit of progress toward something like normalcy was better than no progress at all.

While Victor was occupied with his breakfast drink, I made my way upstairs to put my second brilliant plan of the day into action. It was obvious Victor couldn't keep sleeping on the sofa, and he couldn't climb the stairs to get to his room, but luckily we have a suitable third option. We have a shikibuton, or as I’ve heard westerners refer to it, a Japanese floor mattress.

I wrestled it out of the closet in the laundry room and dragged it to the top of the stairs, whereupon I gave it a little shove and let it make its own way down. This was far from elegant, but it was a lot less difficult than trying to carry the rolled-up mattress without help.

What I hadn't considered was that even though it's possible to see the stairway from the sitting room, Victor couldn't see it in enough detail to realize what was going on. Probably all he could see was the shadow of something coincidentally Yuri-sized sliding and thumping down the stairs, and I know he heard the thud when it finally hit the hallway floor.

He let out a yell that scared me just as much as the descending shikibuton had likely scared him, and by the time I'd made my way down far enough to see him, he was on the floor as well. He was lying with one hand pressed against his side and the other outstretched in the direction of the stairs, and the look on his face was one of terror.

"Yuri? Yuri!"

"It's okay," I said, as I hurried to him. "I'm okay. It was just the futon." I knelt beside him and touched his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Wh-what were you doing?" he gasped, as I helped him sit up. "I thought you fell."

"I was getting the shikibuton for you to sleep on," I said. "I couldn't carry it by myself."

"What'd you do? Push it down the stairs?"

"Yeah," I admitted.

He inhaled as if he was about to say something, but then simply crumpled in my arms and began to sob. I petted him and made soft shushing noises, but it didn't seem to calm him.

I could barely understand him as he cried into my sweater, "Don’t scare me like that again!”

“I didn’t mean to,” I said.

“What if it'd been you? I couldn't help you."

"It's all right," I said. "I'm fine."

"But, what if you weren't? What was I supposed to do if you got hurt? I... i couldn't even get to you."

"Is that what happened?" I asked gently. "Did you fall, trying to get to me?"

"Yeah," he said miserably. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," I said. "I should've told you what I was going to do. Did you hurt yourself?"

He sniffled. "No. Bruised my knees a little bit, maybe. Nothing major."

"As long as you're not hurt, that's what matters."

"I don't want you to leave me," he said.

"Don't worry. I already told you I'm not going anywhere," I assured him. "I'm not going to leave you."

"No, I mean, you have to stay close to me. I don't want you to go anywhere I can't see or hear you. You have to promise. I can't help you if something happens, and I have to know you're safe."

"All right," I said. I couldn't picture that as being at all practical, but he was upset and frightened, and it wouldn't have done any good to disagree with him.

We stayed on the floor for a long time. I'm not sure exactly how long, but it was certainly enough time for me to start feeling physically uncomfortable.

Victor must’ve finally had enough of the hardwood beneath him too, as he shifted in my arms and said, “Can I go back to the couch now?”

"Of course,” I said. “Do you think you can try to walk a couple of steps for me? You're so close to the sofa, it doesn't make much sense to use your wheelchair."

"I don't know," he said. "What if I can't do it?"

"You can,” I said. “I think you must've walked from the sofa to this spot in the first place, because your wheelchair's in the kitchen."

His expression was one of surprise, as if he'd only just remembered how he'd gotten off the sofa when he thought I'd fallen down the stairs. "Okay," he said. "I'll try."

"Good," I said. "I'll help you."

"Okay."

After a few false starts and a mighty effort from both of us, he was on his feet. He was shaking, and I could tell he was scared, but to his credit, he didn't show any signs of giving up like he had at the hospital. He draped one arm across my shoulders, and I wrapped both of mine around his waist to support him.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Not really.”

"You can do it. Left foot first."

He hesitated for a few seconds, but then he obediently slid his left foot ahead several centimeters. He never let any part of it lose contact with the floor, but I didn’t care as long as he was moving forward.

“Good?" he inquired, as if he were accomplishing some complex new skill for the first time and needed my approval of his performance.

"Very good," I praised him. “You’re doing brilliantly. Right foot, now.”

“Don’t let me run into anything.”

“Can you see the table?”

“Not clearly, but I can see where it is.”

“There’s nothing else you could run Into, and I’ll be between you and the table,” I said. “You’re doing well. Take one more step for me, okay?

“This is really hard,” he said.

“I know, but you’re being so brave, and you’re doing it. Just a couple more steps and you’ll be there, and then you can rest.”

In actuality, it was more than a couple of steps back to the sofa. It was really about five or six, which is not a lot, but for Victor it might as well have been a full marathon. A distance that would've taken anybody else about three seconds to cover took us more like two or three minutes, and by the time we reached the sofa and I guided Victor onto it, he was sweating and out of breath.

It was strange, seeing him like that. I’ve watched him do intense cardio workouts and not perspire nearly as much as he was just then. His exhaustion said a lot about his stress level, and about how much strength he’d lost in a week. It wasn't necessarily just physical strength, but also psychological strength, and I suddenly understood why Dr. Sato had wanted to get him up and moving as soon as possible. She’d wanted to prevent what we were experiencing right now.

Then and there, I made up my mind that Victor and I were going to walk together for a few minutes every day, until he built up enough confidence to do it by himself. I was determined this would happen, even if I had to beg, threaten or manipulate him into doing it, because I couldn’t bear the thought of letting him deteriorate any further. If he did, he might never regain the ability to be independently mobile, and that would be like a life sentence for him. He might not appear very lively now, but I knew that once he was feeling better and was no longer in any pain, he'd be full of restless energy and impossible to deal with if he didn't have a way to move around and burn it off.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, once I'd gotten him settled with his blanket and his second smoothie.

"Yeah," he said. "I feel kind of gross, though. You think I could take a shower?"

"How about a bath?" I suggested. "Unless you're ready to tackle the stairs already?"

"What? Oh... right. No shower in the downstairs bathroom," He tilted his head quizzically. "You think Yuna was serious when she told you to put trash bags on my arms? You know, yesterday before we left the hospital, when she was explaining all that home care stuff to you, I mean.”

"I didn't realize you were paying attention," I said. "And yes, I think she was. She wouldn't have said it if she weren't serious,. You can't get your casts wet, and bin bags are a good way to keep them dry."

"Not very attractive, though."

"Who do you need to impress? I already think you're the most beautiful man in the world."

This earned me a tiny smile. "Even when I'm all sweaty and stinky?"

"We're going to fix that," I said. "Let me finish setting up your bed first, and then we'll get you cleaned up."

I unrolled the shikibuton in the dining room. That was the only room downstairs where there was enough space for it, and even so, I had to haul the table closer to one end of the room to make sure there was enough clear area to push the wheelchair around.

The dining room may have been the only choice, but all things considered, it wasn't bad. The door can be closed for privacy, and it's a lot closer to the bathroom than the sitting room is. Getting Victor to walk to the bathroom might not be such an insurmountable goal if we start from here instead of from the sitting room.

By the time I was done arranging everything and putting fresh sheets, a blanket and pillows on the mattress, I felt damp and sticky and in need of a bath myself.

I have to say, despite the necessary alterations to our routine, our bath was the most normal thing about our day.

Victor and I often bathe together, so it wasn't weird for me to climb in with him or even to wash him. He tried to wash my back, pressing the sponge between my skin and the tips of his plastic bag covered fingers, while simultaneously attempting to keep his arm out of the bathwater. Needless to say, this was far too awkward to continue for more than a few seconds, but it added a bit of levity and made us both feel like things were the way they were supposed to be, if only for a moment.

The most difficult aspect of the experience was getting Victor dressed afterwards. Thank the Watcher for sweatpants, and for the fact that they’re a wardrobe staple for my professional athlete husband, because I’m sure we would’ve had far more of a challenge ahead of us if his fashion choices were more like mine. He decided he didn’t want to put on a shirt, claiming it’d be too much work to get into, and I didn’t argue. I reasoned that he could always have more blankets if he got cold in bed.

He was definitely ready for bed after his bath. Just as I’d predicted, a full stomach did wonders for the effectiveness of his pain medication, and I'm sure being clean and comfortable helped him relax as well. He told me he was feeling “floaty”, which made me want to laugh despite the circumstances. That particular pain medication does tend to disconnect you from reality a bit when it’s working properly, and I could absolutely relate to the sensation of my consciousness hovering somewhere between hypothetical parallel universes. In my opinion, when you're in such a state, the safest place to be is in bed.

He wanted me to lie down with him, which I was more than willing to do, regardless of the fact that it was only mid-morning. I’d been awake since half-past six on Thursday morning, and my body was pleading for rest. I’m not used to going that long without sleep. Victor likes to tease me about being a professional napper, and he’s not wrong. I like to get my eight hours per night, plus a quick afternoon snooze when I can.

It’d been a long time since I’d slept on a floor mattress., and I’d forgotten how cozy they are. It was almost as good as being in my own bed, especially with Victor snuggled against my side.

I was slightly disappointed that we couldn’t cuddle the way we did in the past. Usually, it’s Victor who holds me, and I’ve been known to lie half on top of him sometimes, which he apparently likes, judging by how often he’s rolled me onto his chest with a teasing whisper of, “Come up here and get warm.” But, I couldn’t put any of my weight on him anywhere now, and particularly not on his chest. Instead, he curled up beside me with his head on my shoulder and his arms resting across my body.

It was nice, even if it wasn't what I was used to. More than anything, I was just happy to be able to share a bed with him again. I'd been desperately lonely without him, and I don't think I even realized the magnitude of my loneliness during the past week until I had him safe at home with me.

"I love you, Victor," I said softly.

"I know," he said. "I lucked out there."

I smiled at that. "Not the typical response, but I'll accept it."

He made a sound that might've been a stifled laugh. "Sorry. I think the drugs are messing me up. I'm not used to having stuff like this in my body."

"I hope you never need to get used to it," I said. I stroked his shoulder lightly. "Are you in any pain right now?"

"No," he said. "The stuff is working really good, I think. Not like last night."

"Because you ate something."

"Drank something."

"Whatever. You know what I mean."

"Yeah," he said. He was quiet for a moment, and then, 'Yuri?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, too. Sorry I dropped that ball a minute ago. And, uh... thanks for taking care of me, even though I'm a stubborn pain in the ass."

"You are a stubborn pain in the ass," I acknowledged, laughing. "But, I love you and I wouldn't trade you for anybody else."

"When my mom and Julian get here, are you still gonna do stuff for me?"

"Do you want me to?" I asked. "Last night, you didn't seem keen on it."

He moved his head against my shoulder in what I imagined was meant to be a nod. "Yeah, I... I think I do want you to. I was thinking about it, and I realized... it'd be super weird for my mom to give me a bath. I want you to do that. And help me get dressed. At least with the bottom parts, 'cause like, it'd be awkward for my mom to, you know... see my man stuff."

"Got it. We'll keep all your private bits private."

This time, he managed a real laugh, although I might've described it more as a giggle. "Private bits."

"Well, at the risk of being explicit, would you rather I'd said something else?" I asked.

"No. But like, are we actually having this conversation?"

"I'm afraid we are," I said. "You never thought your life would come to this, did you?"

"No, but if it had to come to this, I'm glad I've got you on my side." He drew in a deep breath, and his tone was more serious when he spoke again. "I really am sorry I let this happen, though. We wouldn't be in this mess if I'd made better choices."

"It wasn't just you," I told him. "We both could've handled it better. But, let's not go over that again, okay? We are where we are right now, and there's no changing it, so we've got to do our best with what we have."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just... scary, you know? And I feel bad about it. No... 'bad' isn't big enough a word, but I can't think of the right one, and... I don't know how to stop blaming myself."

"Would it help to know I don't blame you?"

"Maybe, a little."

"Perhaps you can talk about it with your psychologist at your appointment next week. Maybe he'll know what to do."

"Do you think so? I'm not sure how I feel about talking to him."

"You liked him when you met him in the hospital, didn't you?"

"He was nicer than the eye doctor," Victor said.

"That wouldn't take much, would it?" I said. "I'm going to call my eye doctor on Monday, and ask her if she can fit you in sometime soon. We need to get a better assessment for you than you got from Dr. Nakayama."

"Do you think Dr. Nakayama was wrong?"

"I don't know what to think, other than it's a good idea to get a second opinion."

"Okay," he agreed. "You and Mom and Julian have to come with me."

"I can't speak for your mother or Dr. Julian, but I'll be by your side the whole time," I said. "I'll hold your... fingers? I guess I can't hold your hand, can I?"

"Yeah. Hold my fingers." He nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck and shoulder. "Hold every finger, an' tell me if you can put my rings back on me, 'kay?"

I'd nearly forgotten about his rings, and the thought of putting them back on his fingers made me smile. "After our nap, do you want me to check and see if they fit?"

"Mm-hmm..." he murmured. "'specially my wedding ring."

"Go to sleep," I said. "When you wake up, we'll check."

His response was an incomprehensible mumble that might've been, "Marry me."

"Silly man," I whispered, but he probably didn't hear me, as he was already asleep.

I've started to develop a habit of lying awake while Victor is sleeping. This is most likely because there's been so much to think about in the past week, and I'm too busy to do much thinking when Victor is awake.

As I lay there I ran through my mental list of things that needed to be done, and tried not to feel overwhelmed. Victor has appointments with the psychologist and occupational therapist next week, and possibly with the eye doctor if she can fit him in. I'll need to go to the supermarket and the pharmacy, and I'll have to find time to do some housekeeping. Somewhere in there, I'll need to make some time to work, too. Mr. Tanaka has been gracious, but he's not going to be lenient forever. I decided I'd better make a schedule; otherwise, nothing would get accomplished.

Dr. Grace and Dr. Julian will be here tomorrow, I reminded myself. I was comforted by the knowledge that Victor and I could rely on his mother and stepfather, even if we couldn't rely on my father.

Not for the first time during this whole ordeal, I wished for my own mother to be here. She'd know what to do, and she'd take charge of the situation which, at times, has felt wildly out of control to me. Whenever I've talked to her over the past week, I've had to stop myself from begging her to come home. I'd give just about anything for a hug from her, the sweet scent of her jasmine perfume, and her quiet, composed voice telling me everything would be all right and that she'd take care of me.

Without really meaning to, I let the tight grasp I'd had on my emotions slip. In the stillness of our dining room turned bedroom, accompanied only by the ticking of the clock on the sideboard and the soft sound of my husband's deep, somnolent breathing, I whimpered as hot tears leaked from the edges of my eyes.

Afraid I'd wake Victor, my immediate instinct was to fight the outburst. It took everything I had, and I found that it was far more draining than anything else I'd done that day. In the end, it was a good thing I was already lying down, because I'm not sure I could've held myself upright or even moved if I’d had to, I was so exhausted.

The reprieve was only temporary, I knew. Eventually, I'd reach a breaking point, and there'd be no holding back my tears then. The best I could do was hope that I was alone when it happened, so nobody would witness me completely falling apart.

[yniswaifu]

1. Kita

You were a freelancer, so that meant you mostly stayed at home, while your husband – Kita – worked in the field. It was also beneficial since you could help him from time to time. It has been almost two years since you married Kita, and you knew him very well. But as much as you liked to say you know him, Kita was not a man of many expressions or words for that matter. But this was the first time he looked so sad.

You looked up from your screen to see a tired and upset husband of yours entering the bedroom with slow steps, as if he has to force himself to move. Immediately you shut your laptop and get up, facing him with worry etched on your face.

"What's wrong?" you ask him.

Instead of replying, he sits on the edge of the bed and sighs into his palms that are covering his face. You too, sit beside him, a hand on his shoulders, trying to soothe whatever he's worried about.

You sit there in silence, waiting for him to speak. And he does, after some minutes. "I...I might have to go to jail."

To say you are shocked is an understatement. What in the world is this man saying!?

But instead of panicking or doing anything reckless, you take a deep breath, and speak softly. By this time you have moved closer to your husband and are giving him a full side hug.

"Explain it to me from the beginning." you say calmly. You cannot afford to lose your cool. That's something you learnt from this man beside you. Kita has never really yelled or snapped at someone. Or panicked. And that was an admirable trait. But right now, looking at his teary eyes broke your heart.

Blinking back those tears, Kita started talking. "Apparently, the rice that I have cultivated and sold...they are bad quality. And there have been several complaints about this."

You stayed silent, even though your heart beat grew faster. The rice quality is bad? But you guys used the same rice and it was amazing.

He continued. "The food chain in Tokyo where we supplied our rice, they..." he let's out a shaky breath. "Their customers have suffered from food poisoning so they filed a complaint against me."

As soon as the last words left your husband's mouth, he cupped his face and started crying. It wasn't a loud wail, rather soft sobs. And that was more tragic.

You pushed his head slowly towards the crook of your neck as he cried, your hands rubbing his arm in a up and down motion. It was heartbreaking to see your hard working man being cornered like this in such a way that he breaks down like this.

Deep down you knew there's more to this than it shows, but you don't want to trouble Kita more than he already is, so you just stayed silent and hugged him, placing a kiss on his head.

You swore you'll get to the bottom of this.

***

Next day, as Kita left for work, you went to visit the only person you knew you could ask for help. You entered Osamu's shop, spotting the tall guy behind the counter, giving a packet to one of the customers. He smiled when he saw you, eyes crinkled on the corners. Osamu was like your trusted comrade. Both of you were similar, and that is why you bonded well with him. Moreover, Osamu lived in Kyoto just like you, so you had gotten closer to him than his brother. Not that you weren't close to Atsumu. But as a sportsman he would travel a lot, so you saw little of him.

"Y/n san! Hi!" The former gray head greeted you when you approached him.

Smiling, you look around. The shop seemed to have few people. This means it will be easy to talk to him.

"can I steal you for a few minutes? I need to talk to you." you ask with a sheepish tone.

Osamu looks towards his co worker and murmured something, before taking off his apron and walking around the counter towards you. You decided to go to the smoothie stall beside the shop, and walked out of there with him behind you.

After settling down, and ordering your respective drinks, Osamu looks at you and speaks.

"as much as I am happy to see you, is there a specific reason to come here?"

You smiled, your mood dropping. Memories of last night comes up and you remember your husband and his tear stained face. He looked so helpless, so weak – something he is definitely not. And you felt Kita is actually innocent in this ordeal. That makes you more determined to help him.

So you tell Osamu everything. His eyes go wide and face contorted in a frown. "but, I have been working with Kita san for years and none of my customers ever had any complaints."

You nod. You knew Kita was a hard working man who couldn't have done anything to harm anyone. "I know, that is why I need your help."

"what do you need me to do?"

You take a deep breath. "before that, when was the last time you bought rice from him?"

"two months ago. I was having a busy season so I bought a lot together." the man in front of you answers.

You rest your head on your palm, looking at the drink. "then I have to rule you out."

"what?"

You didn't reply, rather went into deep thinking. You thought with Osamu's help and proof that his customers never had any complaints could solve the problem, but it couldn't. Because the food chain of Tokyo had bought it three weeks ago, from the newest batch of rice that Kita harvested.

"you know I will do anything to help Kita san right? I'll go with him to the court and give testimony as well." Osamu states, snapping you out from your thoughts.

You looked up at him, and see his face carrying a worrying expression. Osamu wasn't the most expressive, but he admired Kita a lot, and that was obvious.

You smiled, squeezing Osamu's hand on the table. "I know. But I'm thinking how I can help him. I...it pains me to look at him being so...down."

A lump makes his way to your throat that you try to suppress. You will not cry. Not until you do something to help your husband.

Osamu sighs but doesn't say anything. He wasn't the best with consoling people, and you didn't come to him for that either.

Silence befalls between you two as you quietly brainstormed ideas about how you could help Kita. Suddenly, you slammed your palm on the table – surprising Osamu. "got it!"

Osamu looks at you, his eyes widening a little. "what is it?"

You smile, your teeth on display. "well, I think I can get the list of old clients Kita has been doing business with and get their testimonials. This could prove that Kita has been an honest businessman and never sold bad quality rice."

Osamu nods, pondering over your words. "but that still doesn't guarantee Kita san's recent harvesting of bad rice..."

You stop smiling. But you don't feel demotivated. Because you thought about it as well. "you see, I have a hunch that the reason behind this failure and misfortune is the new brand fertilizer that Kita bought for the fields. This company is old, but doesn't really have a lot of reviews. The only reason Kita bought the fertilizer is because he knows the owner’s son."

That makes Osamu get excited as well. "that...that is a possibility."

"yes. So can I ask you to dig up something about them? Anything that is even remotely shady?"

The younger guy smiles. "leave that to me."

With that, you say goodbye and return home with a plan.

***

As you had anticipated, it was the fertilizer. Osamu calls you within four days of your last meeting, informing you about what he found.

"you were right y/n san. It's them."

You quickly go to another room, as you see Kita exiting the bathroom. You still cannot tell him about your activities behind his back.

"what is it?" you ask Osamu.

"they have been supplying old and expired fertilizer to the farmers, including Kita san. Moreover, their license to run the company has expired as well. So basically they are conning the people and getting money."

You wanted to cry and jump because of this revelation. But you still had to get your part of the work done.

"oh Osamu how you have filled me with joy!" you squeal in the phone.

You hear his laugh, followed by, "you know you sound like an old woman."

You couldn't even say anything back to your friend. "maybe but I'm just so happy!"

"me too. By the way, did you get the testimonials?"

"yes. I did. But I still have to get three more of them. By tomorrow I'll have compiled everything." you reply, smiling wide even though he can't see you.

The reason why you could easily access to the clientele is because Kita never hid anything from you and vice versa. You both trusted each other blindly, something that others really admired.

"I'm glad. This way he can be saved huh." Osamu states softly.

"yeah." you say, and cut the call after bidding each other good night.

You enter your bedroom, and see your husband sitting on the bed, reading haiku. That was a habit he picked when he started working, a sort of a stress reliever for him. You smiled, and sat on your desk, getting to your work. As a freelancer you worked till late at night sometimes.

Finally things are coming together.

***

It was the night before the court hearing. Kita was so dazed by this incident that he had not even realized your frequent outings and returning late night. All he knew was – he was going to jail. And that you would be all alone. That's why he was trying to work extra hard to earn money so you don't feel lonely without him.

He sees you pacing around the room with a file in your hands. He almost had thought those were divorce papers, and you finally decided he was not the man you thought he was. But kept quiet. He refused to let negative thoughts and overthinking ruin the last night he possibly had with you.

You stop pacing as you see Kita stand at the entrance, looking at you with a blank face. But you could see the soft look of love he gave you, and how it was was sad. Trying not to jump into his arms or ruin the whole thing, you smiled.

"you're back." you say.

He nods, walking into the room with heavy steps and sit on the bed. "yeah."

Kita anticipated a welcome hug from you as you closed near him, not the file being thrusted towards him.

"what is this?" he asks. Please don't say divorce papers. Please don't say divorce papers. Please don't say divorce papers.

You don't say anything, just motion for him to take it. "something for tomorrow." you say calmly, after he takes it from your hands.

Kita looked a little surprised. What is it that you could possibly do? He was grateful for you trying to help him. But it was true that his rice cost people their health. And nothing could be done about it. Nevertheless, he appreciated your help.

After Kita takes it, he keeps it on the bed and smiles up at you. You frown because you expected him to open it and check, but definitely not this.

Kita takes your hand and pulls you towards him, resting his head on your palm. He was breathing slowly, as if trying to register your smell, so he doesn't feel lonely in the jail. Or wherever he is. Kita loved you, a lot. And staying away from you meant not seeing you, or hugging you, or kissing you. Or being near you.

You stayed still, letting him do whatever he wants. You understood that Kita had accepted the fact that there was nothing that could be done. And this was the end of his career. But he was wrong. And you wanted to scream it out, but you didn't. You didn't feel like doing it. Instead, you pulled Kita towards you with the palm he was holding, letting him put his head on your chest. Your heart beat was calming to his ears, and Kita wrapped his arms tighter around your waist.

You held your husband in your arms, placing kisses on the top of his head before keeping your face muffled on his soft hair.

"regardless of what happens tomorrow, I will never leave you. I love you way too much to do that. Okay?"

You don't know why you felt like reassuring him, but you did. And maybe – that's exactly what Kita needed before the hearing.

The next morning, Kita was gone when you woke up. As the food chain belonged to Tokyo, he had to travel there for the work. Thankfully, you see the file you gave him gone. That meant he took it with him and didn't think it was useless. Apparently Osamu accompanied him as a witness for his innocence, and as a friend to support him. You were truly glad for Osamu.

Morning turned to evening, eventually stopping at night. You never called or texted Kita, except for the one text of wishing him all the best. You did your usual work, eyeing the clock from time to time. You also sent silent prayers for a good result.

It was around ten at night when the door opened, revealing your husband. You had just finished washing the dishes after dinner, as you knew if Kita isn't home by nine, he's eating out. So you ate alone that day.

You smile as soon as you see him, while walking towards him. "welcome back."

You were eager to know about the hearing, but you can always ask it later.

Kita keeps his bag and his jacket on the couch before turning towards you. As usual, he had a blank expression.

"did you already have din–"

You weren't able to finish the sentence because Kita had closed the distance between you two, picking you up and kissing you. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his hips and arms around his shoulders, your squeal of surprise getting devoured by your husband's fervent kiss. Your mouths moved in sync, tongues dancing around each other. Dinner and everything before that was long forgotten. For Kita – and maybe you – this, was more important at the moment.

You feel yourself getting settled on the kitchen counter, Kita pushing himself further towards you, now standing in between your legs. They were still locked around him as you continued making out. Your brain and body was jelly by the time you two separated from each other.

Your husband rests his forehead on yours, the heavy breathing from you two getting mixed with each other. After you calm down, Kita pecks your lips once, twice – three times before murmuring against them, "I think I'm ready to be a dad."

Your face, already flushed from all that kissing, goes a shade redder as you look into his eyes. "but what about the hearing?" you ask, trying to digress from Kita's statement.

Kita stares at you for a moment before hugging you, his face squished between your neck and shoulders. "how did you do it?"

You stroke his hair, laughing a little. After that hot and heavy moment, you felt euphoric but also dazed. "I don't know."

"you don't know?"

You nod, even though Kita couldn't see you. "I...I just took a chance. And turned out it was right."

Kita lifts his head and looks at you. "you saved my life. You know that?"

"not really–"

"you did." he cut you off. "because of you I'm not going to jail. Because of you my compensation amount was cut to half. It's all because of you y/n."

Your eyes are teary by the time Kita finishes talking. You understood that he had to pay some amount as it was his rice that caused food poisoning. But at least he was not going to jail. You don't say anything, just hug him. He returns the hug and you two just stay like that, in silence.

After some time, you suddenly say, "well. I'm ready to be a mom too."

You hear Kita laugh before picking you up and walking towards the bedroom. "then let's get right into it." he says while placing a kiss on your forehead and closes the door behind him.

Um, okay Kita. 😅

I am...wow. I had this fanfic in mind for two months now but still hadn't got around writing it. Kita is 10/10 husband material. And y/n is 10/10 waifu material. That is why my username is such.😂.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading it. Because I enjoyed writing it. There will be another fanfic, about my favourite Miya - Osamu. And most probably I'll be going on a small hiatus after writing that one. But don't worry, I'll be back. Sometimes I do feel like dropping. But then I remember how I'm not obliged to write a perfect piece, rather a piece to enjoy. So that keeps me going. See ya and have a beautiful day!

[peachiswritingg]

Parking Lot

March Writing Challenge - Day 2 : "I did not know them for very long"

Summary: Catching up at an almost empty parking lot when the two needed it the most.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Y/N

Tags: Tom Holland’s Peter Parker. Platonic love with a found family trope.

Warnings: A bit of angst as it is post blip which would be around far from home era.

Author’s Note: I think my subconscious took over and gave me and peter therapy. Sorry once again for not being on schedule. Had a long nap right after my uni that just ruined my mood. Hopefully, this will be a heartwarming fic to boost someone’s mood! Enjoy and happy reading <333

Words: 1.4k

“A twelve-hour shift. A twelve-hour shift! Can you believe that? She would make an undergrad student slave away?” You scoffed as you hear the busy streets of your home, Queens. Through the phone, you can hear the wind and the honking of late-night cabs. You knew that Peter couldn't really focus on your rants while he was swinging around the city but they needed to vent. Plus, you always wanted to take advantage of his high-tech suit the Tony Stark made for Peter.

You roll your eyes back upon hearing him chuckle in response to your frustration despite biting back a smile.

“Yeah, how dare she do that. Poor you.”

“Why do you sound condescending Peter. I need some support. I am at a parking lot of a superstore at 7.30 p.m. with hair that has been tugged on by some random kid while I was just trying to restock some shelves.” you retorted teasingly. Today is not your day, especially looking like you just woke up and your baby hair popping out all over your face. You sighed and put down your phone to get a sip of your smoothie. Despite sounding annoyed at Peter, you were thankful for him. He was giving his time to listen to you on your break at work knowing that it was going to be a long tiring day and you needed some cheering up.

“Can I have a sip of that smoothie? I am feeling dehydrated in this suit.”

“How did you know that I’m drinking a smoothie? I didn’t open a video call, did I? Peter look at where you are swi- AH!” You throw your phone on the asphalt floor out of shock and you almost threw a punch towards Peter. Fortunately for his spider-senses, he easily dodged your fist.

"Woah, someone's on their toes," he says casually while grabbing your smoothie to have a sip.

"This is really good."

"Peter you owe me a smoothie... and a phone. Also, who would somersault towards a person while they're on the phone with someone? That was not okay, I don't have spidey-senses like you, you dumbass." With your palms on your chest, feeling your fast-paced heartbeat, you sat back down and Peter did as well.

He chokes on the drink out of laughter and mutters an apology while you respond with a deadpan look.

"You're lucky you're related to Aunt May or else I would have had beaten your scrawny ass up. Aunt May would disown me."

"Yeah right like you can beat me in a fight."

"I may have jumped the gun on that one but I have lots of stories that can tarnish your reputation, Parker. Remember the time you asked me and May to teach you how to dance? I have a video and at first, it was for sentimental purposes but now I realize it has more advantages."

"Oh my god, Y/N. You filmed that? Why?"

"You looked soo adorable Pete! Why not? It was nice of you to ask also me to teach you. I honestly just wanted to see you try to follow May." You both share a heartfelt laugh recalling the memories of homecoming.

You notice the cup emptied by the tired superhero in front of you. Despite all the teasing, you were protective over him. After the blip, you know how much more being a superhero has weighed on him. You empathized because behind the mask of a superhero that many look up to was a young boy still navigating his life and identity.

"Well someone just finished my dinner. You're welcome for that smoothie. But do you want some more food? Cause you should have more if you aren't gonna clock out."

"Yeah, no, I'm good. I'll bring you some cupcakes May baked to make up for it. Besides, it's a school night so I'll be home after this."

"That's good. Remember to rest and take some time for yourself, okay? I'll just come over with your favourite pasta." You offer a genuine smile and say, "So, how have you been, Pete? I'm all ears... for about 15 more minutes till my break ends"

"Same old things but you know... a bit more hectic. But I, fortunately, have May, Ned and MJ to support me even if it is as Peter and not this superhero stuff."

"Oooo, MJ, huh? You two going well? Whenever you have a crush you always have a dreamy look in your eyes it's hilarious."

"Yeah," he chuckled shyly, "We are actually going to this overseas trip and I am working up the courage to ask her out."

"Wingman Ned, huh? He'd do great. You'll be okay, kid. You three have been closer than ever." You smile at the flushed Peter while he stares towards the sky.

You both sit in comforting silence as Peter removed his suit with a tap of a button on the centre of his chest. You sense a change of emotions in the air and turn to him to say, "You alright, Pete? My shift is gonna end in two hours but I can take you home right now if you'd like."

Peter put on a small smile, "No, I'm okay. I- is it alright if I wait here until your shift is over? I'm just gonna hang here and have some time for myself. Plus, I need a ride home."

"Yeah, no problem kid. I mean you can swing yourself home but I get it. This empty parking lot can be tranquil if you aren't a part-time worker that is. Only thing making me keep going is the money, hah" you poke fun at yourself to get a chuckle from Peter but he keeps his seemingly bitter smile. He still replies teasingly to keep the moment light, "They don't even pay you that well Y/N!"

"I couldn't be bothered to find a new job Pete," you sigh, "besides it's an easy commute and you always stop by. Actually, Peter... you've been dropping by often. You know you can talk to me about anything. Even if you just want someone to listen, I'll be there. It's been a hard year and... sooner or later, you've got to talk about Tony Sta- Tony. I know he meant a lot to you and you have seen things- been through things a boy your age doesn't deserve to go through. Don't keep it in, please Pete. Please tell me you are at least talking about these things to May, Ned or MJ?-"

Your emotional blabbing got cut off by Peter engulfing you with a tired hug. It put you in a bit of shock as he has been putting a tough front for a while and here he is. No more Superhero, Spiderman. Just a young boy who is struggling with the losses in his life. He didn't deserve this. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back.

"It's okay, Pete. Just let it all out. What you are feeling is totally understandable." You said to try to comfort him. You didn't want to see Pete crumble in your arms. In your eyes, he was like a brother to you and you wanted to protect him. You didn't want to see the weight of being a hero crush him.

"It's just that- everywhere I look. I see him. A-and... I just miss him Y/N. He was always there for me and I miss him." He sobbed onto your shoulder.

"I've lost so many people already. My parents. I didn't know them for very long. But I got May, you, my friends and then I found people to help me as Spiderman. I don't know Y/N. He just meant so much to me but I am glad to have met him and to have him a part of my life."

"Oh, Peter-," he interrupted, "Ah, I'm sorry for getting all sad on you. You have just been always there for me and I-"

"Don't apologise Peter. You know I am always there for you.  If you need anyone, you can always come to your friends or May. And if you need me, I'll be here on this parking lot." You tried putting in a joke to see him smile for at least one more time.

You put on a smile seeing him give a tired one. "Now, go inside and grab something you like. My treat. I already bought you your favourite chocolate bar so don't make me waste my money and buy you more.

"God, you're treating me like you're little brother."

"Well, you are, kid"

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[seacottons]

[ idol!au ] — ateez x 7/11 employee reader

notes: this is so fucking stupid i'm cackling. some are based on their vlogs : minkiway, achallenz, ateezlog, and 1day vlog.

— hongjoong

"Let's get the strawberry yogurt smoothie."

"But we already got too many custard and pudding cups?"

"Do you want San to mope for the next two days?"

"No?"

"Alright then. So, get the yogurt smoothie."

You hear the commotion and bickering before even spotting the two, a faint smile finding itself onto your features. You most definitely weren't eavesdropping. Their bickering was audible throughout the entire expanse of the small store, and you finally peered up from organizing the display of flavored gum to spot the smaller of the two give the taller an exasperated expression.

"You know I don't like spicy! Why would you even suggest that, you bum?"

"You asked for my opinion, Joong," Seonghwa rolls his eyes, gaze locking with yours in the process. A knowing smile crawls its way onto his visage for a brief second, before it's replaced with a faux look of concern, "Oh! Y/n! Why don't you suggest something new for Hongjoong to try out?"

At the sound of your name being called, the smaller male stiffens considerably, hand nearly loosening around the packet of kimbap in his hands. With a suspicious glare, his head instantly snaps to his friend, who in return sent a friendly smile towards you. Seonghwa nearly laughed at the flustered male in his peripheral vision, before nodding in acknowledgment towards you once you made yourself towards the aisle. Hongjoong helplessly watched as you conversed with Seonghwa, your laughter ringing in his ears like soft, melodious chimes.

The tips of Hongjoong's ears burned red, his hand subconsciously reaching up several times to tussle his tresses and hide the obvious signs of his infatuation and nervousness. Seonghwa's eyes glimmered with mischief as they briefly darted to eye his sweating comrade.

"I really like this one," you picked up a warm pack of the spicy cheese kimbap to offer them a look, your eyes flickering to Hongjoong immediately, "But you don't like anything spicy, right Hong-"

"I'll take it!"

Seonghwa merely casts him a look of surprise, and Hongjoong almost stutters as the taller scrutinizes him. Was he that obvious?

"I've actually been enjoying spicy food for the past few weeks," he claims defensively, shoulders straightening and frame subconsciously leaning towards your own as he quickly picks up a conversation with you, cheeks red and lips tugged up into a jaw-breaking smile.

When the two step out of the small convenience store, plastic bags in hand, Seonghwa waste no millisecond to address the elephant in the room, tone complacent and all.

"You're whipped."

— seonghwa

You stare at the blue cart filled to the brim with yogurt cups, and you give the tall male a puzzled look. You were accustomed to having the eight men from upstairs purchase an abundance of food, from dried goods to ready-to-eat meals, but this was new.

"Seonghwa, is this really for all eight of you? Just.. yogurt," you mused curiously, hesitant hands reaching towards the yogurt cups to begin scanning and bagging them.

"Yes and no," he offers a soft smile, hands reaching towards the number candle display, rolling it to the side in search of the desired numbers. He places a number 2 and 3 onto the counter, and you're even more confused than before, "It's for Hongjoong's cake. His birthday is today."

"Then why do you need the yogurt?"

"The yogurt is the cake."

Your lips form a silent 'oh' as you nodded absentmindedly. The two of you share a moment of silence, before your shared laughter erupts throughout the convenience store.

"How thoughtful of you, Hwa," you drawl out teasingly, gaze unwavering from his chiseled face, "That's cute. I bet he'll love it."

Seonghwa nods silently, a polite smile brightening his features as he helps you with the items and bags, insisting he'll pack up the yogurt while you scan. He had a habit of always needing to help and making sure he wasn't being too much of a bother. His head snaps up once you call his name for nth time, and a faint dusting of pink blooms on his facial features as he meets your gaze, "Oh. Sorry, did you call me?"

You giggle lightheartedly as you finalize the amount of his purchase, eyes curiously meeting his, "If you were to pick a non-traditional birthday cake, what would it be?"

"Ah, tteokbokki," he states without a second to lose, eyes sparkling underneath the fluorescent lights of the store, "it will definitely be tteokbokki."

"When the time comes, I'll gladly make you a tteokbokki birthday cake," you accept the cash from his hands, before closing the cash register with a bump of your hip, hands working on tying the two plastic bags filled with yogurt cups, "I mean- of course, if you don't mind that is?"

A bashful smile nearly breaks his face into two as he accepts the bags, hands purposefully brushing against your knuckles a second too long as he nearly laughs in amusement at your nervous smile, "I'd love that, Y/n."

— yunho

You wrap the damp rag around your lithe finger to wipe around the buttons and crevices of the dusty cash register. Once it was practically sparkling, you decided to wipe away at the glass fridge displays, roughly rubbing the stubborn fingerprints that remained on the surface.

The doorbell chimed, and from where you stood, you were unable to see the customer that had just walked in. The sound of a group of males pierced the silence of the store, along with the rumbling of the vending machines in the corner. Nevertheless, you called out with a warm welcome and hastily wiped the last of the few glass doors. Your co-worker was supposed to be here minutes ago, while you were slaving around cleaning the place all on your own and dealing with customers simultaneously.

Removing your gloves, you internally grumbled at the fact your co-worker was late from lunch for the third time this same week. Stomping your way towards the cash register you failed to remember to add a wet-floor sign onto the area you had just mopped, utterly forgetting about the whole ordeal as you made yourself to the front of the store. As you turned the corner, your sneakers skidded loudly against the slippery tiles, your frame instantly thrown off balance as a clipped yelp left your mouth, hands bracing in front of your face to shield it from any damage.

It took a few seconds for you to realize a pair of arms were secured around your waist, and you silently gaped at the male above you with a stupefied expression.

Of course, it had to be him.

The very same man you've been crushing on for a few months now. The very same man who worked three stories above you.

Yunho was so graceful for someone so tall.

"Oh, thanks," he laughed in amusement at your shocked expression, your hands reaching up to clamp around your mouth in horror, "Are you okay though? You... uh, you should put a wet-floor sign. Wouldn't want anyone suing you for falling, now would you?"

Heaven knows you were never more thankful for your co-worker being late again than ever before. You were so close to him, you can practically smell the cologne sprayed on his neck.

"No! No, of course not! I'll get it right away!"

When you scurry from his arms and to the back to rummage in the closet, Wooyoung's voice and laughter ring out loudly behind you.

"But you fall harder every time we come here! Just sue Y/n alread—" a muffled sound of a punch and a loud squeal of pain followed suit, "Ow! Hulk hands! What was that for!?"

— yeosang

In the late hours of the evening, you found yourself guiding Yeosang through the aisles of the convenience store for a mission he had to complete for a series they were filming. When you spotted no cameras around, you sighed in relief.

"You know you're cheating, right?" You ask as the male crouches down to examine the array of rice balls and other food on display.

"There are no cameras here. No one will know."

You pause momentarily to glance at the security camera nestled in the corner, before rolling your eyes and crouching next to him to aid him in his task. This isn't an uncommon occurrence. Yeosang has come down to the store numerous times to grab items for the vlogs he filmed. One time it was utensils and a bowl, and the other time was an abundance of gummy bears.

"I can't believe you're making me do this for you," you laugh in disbelief as he stands to watch you look around for a particular item.

"You know what my members like more than I do," he muses with a soft smile, "they practically live here."

"Yeosang," you called out with a quirk of your brow, "you live with them. If anyone's capable, it's you."

"I know. I still need your help though."

You internally sigh and get to work, not that you minded in the slightest. Your heart was practically hammering out of your chest the moment he stepped foot inside the store.

"The guys usually get this pack of ramyun almost every visit, along with this rice ball," you arrange the food in his cart, before dragging him into another aisle, "We also got this new shipment of honey rice cakes- I'm sure Seonghwa will like them. He usually prefers the older types of snacks. Wait. Do you need Mingi's diarrhea medicine too?" You joke with a lighthearted laugh.

Yeosang gives you a grimace, and his judging eyes study you for a second too long that has your neck and ears heating up rapidly, "No, Y/n. Mingi's digestive system is doing just fine now.."

Yeosang nods absentmindedly as he's dragged to and fro from one aisle to the next, unable to focus on the words that come flying rapidly from your mouth "..And Hongjoong always tries new potato chips every time he visits, but these are his favorite, I can tell. San likes anything sweet. If there's no more yogurt smoothies left, just get a chocolate bar."

You peer at Yeosang who remained silent the entire time, his unfocused gaze trained on you. With a snap of your fingers in front of his face, he startles at the sudden sound, eyes wide and darting rapidly in confusion, "Oh! Sorry, Y/n. I got distracted there. Did you say something?"

"Cute," you laugh airily at his flustered expression, thumb jutting behind you towards the drink display, "I almost forgot the most important item- coke! You guys are the reason it's always out of stock here."

Taking a look at the clock above the door, you gawp in disbelief as you wait for the male to fish out his wallet, "Yeo, you've been here for the past half hour. They're going to think you got lost."

"No, that's alright," Yeosang mumbles as he hands you a sufficient amount of cash for the items, eyes looking anywhere but your face, "We should do this again sometime."

"Hm," you glance back up at him questioningly, "Sure. Whenever your next challenge is, I suppose. I don't mind helping."

He reaches up to awkwardly scratch his neck, lips pressing together into a firm line before he has the courage to meet your eyes and reply, "Oh- no. I meant.. on our own free time. No challenge. Just us two. Hanging out? Buying snacks?"

You almost stumble over yourself at his words, hands clammy and face burning. Nodding subtly, you fail to realize the goofy, flirtatious smile settling on your face as you hand him the receipt.

"Challenge accepted."

— san

"And they said it tastes like toothpaste! Can you believe them?"

You reached out to pat a hand onto the taller male's back in a caring manner, nodding when he asked you how ridiculous the other members' statements were.

"Yes, of course," you console him as you carefully organized the new shipment of chocolate bars on display, allowing the male to vent to you in the aisles of the convenience store he frequently visited from upstairs. He's also been trying to persuade you to join his mint chocolate cult for the past two weeks now.

"Mint chocolate doesn't taste like toothpaste! Toothpaste tastes like mint chocolate," San brushes a hand through his pink locks, eyeing you for a reply in agreement. You think he only came down here not only to vent, but to also fuel his ego by finding another person to agree with his statements and judge his friends' taste in food- other than Mingi, of course, "don't you agree?"

You nearly laugh at the awaiting gaze that overtakes his features. He was very serious about this topic, so it was safe to assume his older friends bashed the flavor to the point San took it almost personally, "Yes, San. For the hundredth time, mint and chocolate are the perfect pair. They're like.. peanut butter and jelly. Cheese and corn. Strawberries and bananas. And-"

"Me and you."

You think you hear wrong as he quickly dashes towards the ice cream freezer to grab a handful of mint chocolate ice cream pints.

"What?"

"Hm?" he has the audacity to tilt his head in amusement, eyes practically twinkling with mischief, "What's the matter, Y/n?"

How dare he fluster you like this. Your jaw is slack as he walks back over to you with the same, bright smile and dimple on display. The words nearly die in your throat as he looms over you with a look of mock curiosity and innocence, "N-nothing, uh- do you want me to check you out?"

"You're more than welcome to anytime, Y/n. No need to ask."

His smile stretches in amusement as your eyes widen in shock. He knew what he was doing to you. You choked out a response, nodding your head as you made yourself over to the register counter.

Once placing the ice cream pints and eight plastic spoons in the bag, you handed it to the bubblegum haired male, whose eyes crinkled happily, "No need to be shy, Y/n. Sometimes, all you need is," he reached over to press the tip of your nose back with the pad of his finger, "encourage-mint."

His laughter rung like the bell chime that signaled his departure, and before he turned the corner to go back to the entertainment building upstairs, he sent you a quick and mischievous wink.

— mingi

The steam from your ramyun cup swirled up to meet the cold air as you sat alone in front of the convenience store for your lunch break. You watched as people scuttled through the streets in an attempt to avoid the light misting of rain. The cup of steaming noodles helped warm your hands though, and the store awning provided enough shelter from the rain.

Taking a generous amount of noodles in your mouth, you slightly wince at the searing temperature on your lips.

"Y/n? What're you doing out here?"

A voice caught your attention, and your head snaps up to meet the eyes of the well-dressed male standing nearby with a to-go bag in hand. You stare with stuffed cheeks and wide eyes, quickly ducking your head to drop the remaining noodles hanging from your lips back into the steaming cup. You don't know why he's asking a question like that. He, along with the others, have numerously visited the store or were nearby when you were on your lunch break. Even Yunho memorized your lunch schedule throughout the week.

"Mingi! Hi-" you cough out suddenly, hand quickly reaching up to wipe the sauce from your lips. He makes his way over to where you're sitting, before plopping beside you and proceeding to open the bag in his hands. You give him a questioning look, and when he feels his eyes on you, he turns to you with a smile.

"You don't mind if I eat lunch with you, yeah?" He snaps his chopsticks apart and gives you a hopeful look, "You just seem all bored and lonely by yourself."

You stare flabbergasted at his words, before shaking your head almost too quickly after a moment of silence. You didn't mind the lack of company actually, but Mingi was too sweet for you to deny, "No, of course not. But it's okay, you don't have to-"

"One doesn't let their friend eat all alone," he simpers, before eyeing his styrofoam box and thrusting it in front of you, "Here! You should try some barbecue eel. It's perfect for this kind of weather."

The two of you spent the next half hour conversing and stuffing your mouths full of food he had gotten from his mother's restaurant. His eyes sparkled once you complimented his mother's cooking skills, and a contagious smile found itself on his visage as you asked for the name of the place. He slurped another strand of noodle into his mouth before boisterously replying with a raised brows and a bright smile.

"I'll see if I'll have time this weekend to visit it," you accepted the napkin he offered you to wipe your mouth, before crumbling it and tidying up the area. He stands to discard the empty boxes of food and bags before checking the time on his phone.

"I'd love to spend more time with you, but Hongjoong will have my ass if I don't go back in time," he laughs loudly while dusting his clothes to rid himself of any fallen crumb, "Oh! Here's a card for my mother's restaurant! I always carry some with me wherever I go."

You accepted it with a grateful smile, brows knitting in confusion at the numbers scribbled on the corner of the small business card, "Oh, there's a number here? Is it their new number?"

"It's mine," he says while patting your head with a cheeky smile, "Next time, we should eat together there— where it's warm and not out here in the freezing cold."

You gape in awe at him, face flushing almost immediately. Mingi smiles, internally reminding himself to thank Yunho for the idea later.

— wooyoung

"Y/n! I can't believe you betrayed me like this!?"

Peeking your head up curiously, you quirked a brow in the direction of the heaving male, "What are you talking about?"

You place the last stack of cash into the register before closing it shut. The display of candy near the register needed organizing, and you sigh to yourself before you begin working on it. His friends stand outside, in front of the store, conversing amongst each other as they waited for him to finish grabbing 'something extremely important'.

Your friend nearly reached over the counter to shake you by your shoulders with an exasperated cry of anguish, "You told me you'll save me at least one of the BTS cold brew bottles! They're all sold out! Again!"

Oh. Of course that was the problem.

You roll your eyes at his dramatic rant, elbows resting onto the counter as you leaned forward teasingly. You were grateful no one else was in the store while Wooyoung had his meltdown. He would've probably frightened them anyway.

"I told you when the new shipment comes in to save me each version of them!"

"Wooyoung- it's just canned americano. We have plenty more brands to tr-"

"No! It has BTS on the packaging!" He explains quickly, "Don't you realize it's a godsend to have packaged food and drinks with their faces on it!?"

"You're going to throw the packaging away anyway! What's the point?" Your unimpressed face studies his in confusion. Internally, you smile to yourself at his frustrated tone. You love to rile him up.

When you were met with silence, you scrunched your nose in distaste, arms crossing in front of your chest defensively. He looks a bit flustered at your gaze, shoulders shrugging silently.

"Gross! Wooyoung, were you seriously planning on keeping and collecting them? Aren't you overdoing it?"

He lets out an indignant squawk and pins you with a pointed stare, which you returned with a blank blinking of your eyes.

"I don't tell you how to live."

Rolling your eyes, you turn to rummage through your bag tucked beneath the counter, before fishing out two cans of the americano. Wooyoung's eyes open wide in astonishment.

"You're lucky I remembered. My manager only let me buy two."

"Y/n?" He scrambles to the counter to take a good look at the cans, before he finds himself tugging you forward by your head with a loud cry of excitement, to which you groaned in protest, "I knew it! I knew you wouldn't let me down!"

Your face flushes at the close proximity and when the bell chimes signaling a new customer, your heart drops to your stomach in fright. You did not need anyone witnessing this. Wooyoung's grip was relentless as he squeezed your cheeks together and continued to praise you for being the most trustworthy person he knows.

"Wooyoung, how many times have I told you harassing someone isn't the way to express your feelings," Hongjoong's annoyed voice calls out from the front.

— jongho

You attempted to remain inconspicuous as you huddled over your phone over the counter, eyes glued onto the screen displaying the current live video. You swore you could hear their rackety footsteps and shouts from three stories below. You wouldn't be surprised if one of them came crashing down from the ceiling one day. An infatuated sigh and droopy smile tugged at your lips as you leaned your cheek against your palm.

A few minutes later, you had to mute your phone to attend a customer ( because heaven knows how loud and rowdy they get when they're all together. And you didn't need their argument about butts to blast out throughout the store ). To your displeasure, another few came strolling in. You wanted to groan in frustration at their impeccable timing. Of course, Ateez would start a live during your shift, and of course customers came flocking in as if the convenience store was suddenly a magnet.

By now, you've missed a good portion of the live, and some of the customers gave you wary looks as you trembled to hastily bag every item they purchased. You nearly ripped the register out in the process of your haste.

You thought it was finally the last of the burdensome customers, when a handful of bags of chips, ice cream pints, and ramyun cups were placed onto the counter. Sighing subtly, you glance up to give the customer a fake smile, only to gape as the male across from you has his eyes set onto your phone screen.

You feel the force of heat rush to your face like a volcano spitting out molten magma, and with a noise between a strangled gasp and cry, your hand quickly slams on top of your phone to shield the screen and hopefully save the last bit of dignity left in your system. You gripped it against your chest with a panicked grin, and his eyes flickered down and then back up to meet your own.

The last thing you wanted was for the boys to know you keep tab of their activities and projects. You were just supposed to be the friendly clerk downstairs. You muster up the energy to not feel too affected by the questioning stare the other is giving you.

"Well," the male chuckles at your perplexed and flustered expression, "I've caught you red handed, Y/n."

Your smile falters at the accusation.

"It's not what it looks like. It just popped up from my notifications- I wasn't even-"

"Hey, hey!" He suddenly quips playfully, arms out in front of him in defense, "No need to be so defensive. So, I take it you were lying when you said you weren't an Atiny?"

Your silence was a dead giveaway, and his smile only grew wider as you attempted to shrink into yourself.

"Who's your bias?" He tried again, and you laughed it off, quickly changing the topic by asking him how many napkins and spoons he needed for the ice cream. He reached a hand up to brush the red bangs from his eyes, before looming over the register a bit suspiciously. When your head snaps up to give him a look of confusion, his attention is suddenly drawn to the gas medicine displayed on the counter. You sigh in relief as you hand him the bags before wishing him a good rest of the day.

"Y/n?"

Before he bid you farewell from the door, he waved a hand up, mischievous smile plying at his lips, "Nice photocard you have there on your phone."

Your eyes glance down immediately to your device resting on the counter, breath leaving your lungs in embarrassment as the same red-head smiles back at you from your phone. Jongho's laughter can still be heard from outside even with the door shut, and you suddenly wish the floor will swallow you up to save the remaining crumb of dignity you had left.

[jinxthejubilee]

Drinking Buddies

To end off the season of giving and delicious food/beverages, I present to you, a mini story for the Little D's!

Enjoy!

Warning: Slight spoilers for Obey Me

Just so you all know who's who: No. 1 = Pride, No. 2 = Greed, No. 3 = Envy, No. 4 = Wrath, No. 5 = Lust, No. 6 = Gluttony, No. 7 = Sloth

-------------------------------------------------------

Whew! What a day! The main seven Little D's have finally finished their work.

Despite what others may say, cleaning the castle, polishing the floors, helping Barbatos make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, dusting off each and every antique in the castle, and finishing mountains of paperwork, is only a small fraction of what they do on a daily basis.

Working at The Fall, helping the staff at RAD, making deals with the higher-ups, buying groceries, cleaning supplies, and/or decorations, guarding the castle in case of intruders, and working alongside so many rude, intimidating, or annoying people on a daily basis can also take a lot out of you.

So much to do, so little time, but they enjoyed their work nonetheless.

Still, even the ever energetic familars get tired, and when they do, all they want to do is lie on the floor, grab a plate of leftovers, chat about their busy day, throw in a complaint or ten, and call it a night.

However, a peaceful night with the Little D's has not and never will go according to plan.

-------------------------------------------------------

*Four of the seven the Little D's are collapsed on the floor, utterly exhausted by their absolute hell of a day. Very hungry, very tired, and very thirsty.*

*No. 6 and No. 7 are in the kitchen preparing dinner. While an overly excited No. 5 comes rushing in holding seven cups in his hands. *

No. 5: "Guys! Guys! Guys! Look what I got~."

No. 3: "Oh, um...drinks?

No. 4: "Yeah, the drinks we asked for about two hours ago?

No. 5: "They're not just any drinks! Gather round my friends. Behold!

*Displaying the remarkably shiny drinks*

No. 5: It took me forever to get these. The line was horrific! So many awful people shoving and pushing me out of the way. Nearly stepped on my hat too! How rude! Hmph!

No. 2: "All right! All right! We get it! So what's so special about these drinks that you had us practically dying of dehydration?"

No. 5: "Oooh! I'm so glad you asked! Hell's Kitchen was having a special this week; Smoothies Named After and Inspired By Famous People in the Devildom, Especially Those Who Could Potentially Enslave and Kill Us All!"

No. 1: "Sounds promising."

No. 5: "Eeee! And the best part? Today's smoothies were inspired by our dear Avatars of Sins themselves!"

No. 3: "W-wow! R-r-really?! That's amazing!"

No. 5: "I know, right?!"

No. 1: "Not particularly surprising, though. I mean, of course anyone would want to make a drink intended for the Avatar of Pride."

No. 2: "Rrrrriiiight...So! What do the drinks taste like?"

No. 5: "That's the thing! I don't know! They didn't say. The ingredients are supposed to be a surprise so you can 'appreciate the flavors more'. Whatever that means."

No. 4: "Well then, let's stop yapping and try them already! I'm starving, so this better quench my hunger before the food gets here."

No. 5: "Hehe! Consider it done! Here, take one!"

*No. 5 passes out the color coordinated beverages to each of them.*

No. 5: "Alrighty! Everyone has one, yes? No. 1, why don't you try yours first?"

No. 1: "If you insist."

*No. 1 takes a long, confident sip of the drink, smacks around his mouth, then, puckers his lips in a judgemental way.*

No. 1: "Well, it tastes like a Princess Poison Apple, demonus, coffee, and every Human World wine known to man."

*He suddenly makes a disgusted face and stares angrily at the smoothie.*

No. 1: "Oh, and of course it's Black Coffee of Melancholy! Such a bitter aftertaste."

No. 5: "Oooh! How sharp and sadistic that drink is! Your turn, No. 2!"

No. 2: "Here goes!"

*No. 2 takes a big gulp, then puts it down with a loud, satisfactory 'thump'.*

No. 2: "Mmm! This is great! Cheap whiskey lemonade, Hell Sauce, and a shot of whipped cream. Although, the aftertaste is back pocket change.

*No. 2 feels around his mouth until he hears the sound of clattering coins. He opens his mouth wide like an anaconda, and takes out some Grimm from his throat.*

No. 2: "Sweet! Free Grimm!"

*The others look disgusted, but No. 5 is at least a little amused and slightly fascinated.*

No. 5: "My, how um...enriching that one is. No. 3, it's your turn."

No. 3: "U-u-um! I don't think I should-"

No. 4: "Just drink it!"

*No. 4 snatches the drink away, rips off the lid, uses one hand to pry No. 3's mouth open, while dumping the drink in his mouth with the other hand. *

No. 2: "Hey, hey, hey! Be careful with him!"

No. 5: "Don't be a brute, No. 4!"

No. 1: "Oh please, he doesn't know how to be anything else but a brute."

*No. 3 sputters out the remnants of the smoothie from his mouth. His face scrunches up, his eyes are burning, and fat tears are building up.*

No. 2: "No. 3, are you okay?

No. 3: "It tastes... like ocean water, but it's somehow very sour. It's like I've sucked the essence out of a very conflicting lemon."

*No. 3 swallows painfully and shakes his head.*

No. 3: "A-and the aftertaste is S-s-spicy Rainbow Pizza.

*No. 3 drops to the ground and holds a shaking, pleading hand in the air.*

No. 2: "No. 3?!

No. 3: "W-water...please...?"

*While No. 2 pours multiple bottles of water in No. 3's mouth, they move on.*

No. 5: "Hm. Not a very sofishticated drink, huh? Oh well! Your turn No. 4!

No. 4: "No way. Not happening."

No. 5: "Oh come on! Don't wuss out now, Mr. Tough Guy! What happened to all that bravado you had earlier, huh?"

No. 2: "Yeah. That was before he saw No. 3 here deflate like a woopie cushion."

*No. 3 sinks deeper into the floor even more, awaiting release from his salty, sour, and spicy torment.*

No. 4: "Ugh! Fine! You better not make me regret this."

*No. 4 slurps his drink...only to have his mouth be on fire.*

*No. 4 shrieks and rubs his tongue on the floor to put out the flames, to no avail.*

*He grabs a water bottle that was meant to be used for No. 3 and chugs the bottle like it's the last thing he'll ever consume.*

*The fire finally dies out, leaving poor No. 4's tongue and mouth scorched and black.*

No. 4: "No. 5."

*He turns to face No. 5 with a look of pure rage, topped off with a creepy smile.*

*Before No. 4 can break the fifth familiar's horns off however, he gets held back by an annoyed No. 1, a struggling No. 2, and a very weak, but very concerned No. 3.

No. 4: "I'M GONNA KILL YOU! I'M GONNA KILL YOU! I'M GONNA KILL YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME?! YOU THINK YOU'LL GET AWAY WITH THAT?! HUH?! YOU GOT ANOTHER THING COMING YOU- !"

No. 5: "N-now now! Let's not be hasty! How was I to know that you would get burned by a liquid?

No. 1: "Calm down, No. 4. You're making a fool of yourself even more than usual."

No. 2: "Yeah! You're overreacting over nothin'!

*No. 1 and 2 take No. 4 to a corner for him to cool down. Once he returns, he shoots No. 5 an 'I'll get you later' glare, and shares how his drink tasted like maximum burn Hellfire Sauce, cat eyes, fresh rain, and inked paper. At least the aftertaste was RedxRed Apple Pie.*

No. 4: "Ugh. My mouth is still burning. Gimme that water!"

*He grabs another water bottle out of No. 2's hands.*

No. 2: "Wha-hey!

No. 5: "Yay! I'm de-lighted to see it's my turn!

No. 4: "Make one more pun, and I swear I'll-"

No. 5: "Here I go!"

*No. 5 gulps down his drink.*

No. 5: "Mm mm mm! Strawberries and cream, a Wicked Cupcake, and maple syrup. Oh! And a bit of lemon zest for flavor.

No. 4: "Hey! No fair! Why doesn't HE get any weird side-effects?!

No. 5: "Hehe! How sweet is that, making a cake related smoothie? It really bakes my day. Couldn't have done it batter myself!"

No. 4: "Why you little-!"

No. 6: "What is going on in here?"

*No. 6 comes in balancing four trays of food in his hands, hat, and tail, with No. 7 following after him with seven plates.*

No. 5: "Oh, hi No. 6! We're testing out these drinks from the Hell's Kitchen Special. Here, I got you one too!"

No. 6: "Thank you No. 5, but I don't want to spoil my appetite. I'll drink it after we're done eating."

No. 7: "Come and get it, everyone. It's petrified pork, mashed eye potatoes, fried kraken tentacles with mild mercy sauce, and backstabbing sandwiches without the crust, tonight."

No. 6: "And Mr. Barbatos' cake for dessert. He made one too many for Lord Diavolo's party the other night, so he said we could have it."

No. 2: "YES!! The perfect meal for a perfect drink. "

No. 1: "An...adequate meal for a few hours worth of waiting. Well done."

No. 4: "Tch. It's about time."

No. 5: "Yaaay! You're the best 6 'n 7!"

No. 3: "Food. Sustenance. Must. Eat."

-------------------------------------------------------

They all flew out of the hallway, and hustled into a room smaller room with a simple table and seven chairs.

The table was lined with table mats, silverware, napkins, and glasses of water, perfectly placed and aligned.

No. 7 helped No. 6 place the trays of food in the center of the table, and passed the plates down to each of his companions, who eagerly sat waiting to start filling their plates.

No. 6 was the last to sit down, ensuring that each of his fellow familiars had their own utensils.

Finally, they had all started to eat, munching happily, savoring the flavors of each and every bite they took of their meals.

It was always nice, eating together after a long, hard day of work. It always served as a satisfying conclusion to the busy day they had had.

There was a unique sense of comfort in the routine they had everyday.

Wake up, go to work, end work, eat dinner, talk, play, dance, sleep. Wash, rinse and repeat.

One would call it dull, but they called it exciting. Despite the challenges each day brought, they were never the exact same. There was always something new to explore, discover, and teach in the hellscape they called home.

Not one day of living here could ever be described as boring, and even if it was, they wouldn't complain (mostly).

Besides, there was a sense of pride that came with working for and alongside the future king of the Devildom.

It was fun to be a part of something important, to be dependable enough to work alongside and/or work for the most important people of their world, to be involved in the nitty-gritty aspects of the assignments tasked to them, even if they were slow and deemed as "insignificant."

It was their livelihood. And no one could ever take that away from them.

-------------------------------------------------------

Once everyone was finished eating, they all sat in silence for a moment. Enjoying the tempoary, blissful feeling of having full bellies.

The familiars thanked 6 and 7, grabbed their dishes, slowly flew out of the small dining room and into the kitchen to wash their plates, silverware, and glasses.

All that remained in the room was No. 5, 6, and 7.

No. 6: "Thank you for helping me cook dinner tonight, No. 7. I know it was a lot to handle, considering you didn't take your late afternoon nap to help me finish.

No. 7: "No need to thank me. Glad I could be of some use before I pass out. By the way, we haven't tried No. 5's drink yet, have we?

No. 6: "No, it seems we haven't."

*No. 6 lifts up his drink up, preparing to clink his smoothie with No. 7's.*

No. 6: "Shall we?

*No. 7 takes his smoothie in both hands to lift it up, since he's too tired and weak to lift it up with just one hand.*

No. 7: "Let's.

*Clink*

*Slurp*

No. 6: "Hmm. Human World cheeseburgers, watermelon energy drink, roast beef, and captured sweat. With the aftertaste being a large banana sundae with chocolate sauce, three scoops of ice cream, and sprinkles.

No. 7: "Wow. Mine taste like sushi, cotton candy, dark chocolate, darkened tears, and the aftertaste is almond nuts.

No. 6: "Interesting. How did yours taste, No. 5?"

*No. 6 and 7 look over to see No. 5 frothing at the mouth with his eyes sparkling like he's seen the Pearly Gates.*

No. 7: "Um. No. 5? You okay there?"

*No. 5 shakes his head in the violently fast. Slowly, he flies upwards out of his chair and plasters the biggest smile ever.*

*His eyes are still sparkling, wide open with dilated pupils while continuing to shake his head.*

*He becomes still for a moment, leaving an awestruck 6 and 7 to stare at Little D of Lust.*

*He's not still for long.*

*Suddenly, No. 5 starts to bouncing off the walls. Up, down, sideways, diagonally, and every which way.*

No. 6/No. 7: "Sugar rush."

No. 7: "I guess that was his side effect. Took a bit to activate though."

No. 6: "Maybe he needed a bit more sugar in his system before it could activate. He has a big sweet tooth, you know.

No. 7: "Do you feel any different?"

No. 6: "I feel more energized than before. Maybe lift a mountain or two. How about you?"

No. 7: "Sleepy. Very, very sleepy. I hate it."

No. 6: "I know, I know. Come on. Let's clean up and finish washing the dishes, okay? Just until these drinks wears off."

No. 7: *yawn* "Alright"

*They both look up to see that No. 5 is still bouncing on the walls.*

No. 7: "Should we help him?"

No. 6: "Nah. You don't want to interfere when someone's having a sugar rush. Best to leave it alone until he finally crashes down."

No. 7: "Hehe. If you say so."

*Dodging No. 5's bouncing, they fly out of the room.*

The End

I really should have posted this yesterday to end off November, but this took a bit longer than I thought. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this! Let me know what you guys thought of it. And I'll see you later, byeeee! 💗

[ihatebnha]

Aaaaaah I can't help with the Dabi issue. I haven't gotten to him in anime or Manga yet, and I don't care much for fics where the boys are cold to reader, even if it's in character. So my version of Dabi is probably very drastic from the real Dabi lol. But I can see him being soft/paying attention to his s/o. Ya know, love can change people in mysterious ways.

AHHH, i haven’t time to read the manga yet, so all my knowledge of him comes from the anime, which isn’t much more than you, either... but that being said, I TOTALLY AGREE WITH U.... honestly..... if ur not gonna be nice to me, don’t even talk to me... I don’t read fanfiction to be hated on LMAOOOO and frankly I’m reading to have fun... 

It’s weird though because honestly, my idea wasn’t exactly soft dabs so much as it was exploring dabi just... interacting with someone he sorta (?) liked... he’s another hard character to write for since romance is NOT that realistic for his character... but thats why FF is so great😩

either way, this is what i wrote thinking abt it all... enjoy literally the most out of character dabi drabble ever to be written in the history of dabi fics.... (and thanks for answering my question ily)

-

Your relationship is a little unconventional. 

He wouldn’t really say that you’re together, but he also wouldn’t really say that you’re not. 

He knows that you don’t really care. He likes that about you, in fact, likes the way that you seem to understand where he stands in regards to you… and that you don’t bother him with trivial matters such as feelings, or labels. 

Just like him, dating is the last thing on your mind. 

But that doesn’t mean being bossy is. 

“Dabi,” you whine, and he can tell from the tone of your voice that you want something, two seats down from him at the counter of the bar. 

He tilts his head toward you, face neutral as always, though you don’t seem to care about his very apparent indifference, too busy pouting at the pile of takeout before you. 

“I don’t like this,” you declare, eyebrows knitting together as you push around the grub with your fork. 

His eyes move to the food in front of you, the little plastic container full of greens and other leafy looking things he can’t identify. He frowns at the sight, watching as your eyes move back and forth between your plate and his face annoyingly, your lips still pursed in a grimace.

“And?” he asks, shifting in his seat, tongue resting heavy in his mouth as he prepares for your worst. 

You all but turn up your nose and squawk, pushing the dish away from you in his direction as you throw down your plastic fork.

“Finish it for me."

Even though he knows that he could say no, should say no, at least to kill your attitude, he doesn’t hesitate to take the little bowl from you and snatch your teeny-tiny soda cup filled with orange smoothie froth. 

Eyeing the mess carefully, he glares at you one last time before grabbing your fork and getting to work.

-

“Dabi,” you sing, your voice raised against the hum of the TV, and again, he knows you want something. 

He shifts towards you at the words, watching you laze from your place at the bar, eyes glued to the little screen that rests across from you on the counter. 

Though he doesn’t answer, you still respond to his silence. 

“Can you hand me the TV remote?” 

Kurogiri, who is busy sorting unknown alcoholic potions at another corner of the bar, pauses, most definitely staring, and Dabi shifts uncomfortably before meeting your own waiting eyes as you have turned to face him.

Despite the loud silence that festers during the moments after you close your mouth, and the fact that Dabi kind of wants to set the TV on fire, he slinks from his seat slowly to grab the remote and plop it in your hands. 

He turns to go, but before he’s able to make it far, you’re grabbing his wrist with tight fingers. 

He pauses, aware of the unnamed tension that’s brewing, before turning to face you, still seated on the red leather of a barstool, your lips having curled into a smile as you pull on his arm. 

“C’mere,” you coo, and before he can consider anything else, he’s leaning down, your fingers turning his warm cheek to meet your soft lips as you close your eyes, moving to rub your thumb over the staples on his scarred face once he reaches you.

“Thanks, sweetie,” you say when you pull back, smiling shyly, knowingly, your eyes teasing as you wave him away.  

He nods, stiffly, staying silent, before turning to walk away and leave the room lest you try to ask him for something else and he really does set something on fire.  

Kurogiri says nothing as he leaves. 

Neither do you. 

-

You have left him alone for once. 

The room is quiet, your eyes glued to a packet of pages with tiny text he can’t really decipher, nor does he really care to. Still, the silence is deafening, unusual without Toga, Twice, even Shigaraki or you to fill it with some kind of laughter or fight. 

He twitches in the silence, uncomfortable due to a feeling he can’t seem to place, and he watches as you ignore him. 

“Stupid,” he mutters, to which you hum in acknowledgement, reaching out a hand for him to take without even looking up. 

Though it’s not what he’s looking for, and it answers no questions, he holds your palm in his. 

[dramaphan]

Dramaphan weekly recap - June 14-20

Paying artists and captioners. Charging and paying for sending anons.

Baby anons discover Drama was a 'phanti' once.

When dnp find out how to limit replies to tweets and twitter phannies blame and cancel each other for this.

Some kid is trying to argue with Drama using the 'go pay your bills' argument.

Dnp grandfather and grandson.

Queer prince rats. Ultra slur.

Elton John will be one of the hosts of the youtube thing, lets also get Eminem.

Drama reviews dnp's videos.

Fun game pad or tampon. Dan tampon, Phil pad. Tyler Oakley diva cup. John Green period pants.

Weenie hill.

Dnp circumcised?

2022. We can't let Chris win.

If Adrian has a kid. "Beef and freja would be best friends partners in crime would do anything to convince their parents to let them have a sleepover. Then they’d go visit uncle Adrian and beef would cry because Cousin Broccoli just wants to ride bikes and eat hummus" "Beef would have lunch at cousin broccolis house and he’d be all “I don’t like kale” and Adrian would go “yeah that’s why you’re depressed, here drink this smoothie” "

Dan and Phil men and women coded.

Dan is woman coded (takes baths) and Phil is mentally ill (dating his stalker)

Dan is woman coded (drinks wine) and Phil is man coded (lies)

Phil is woman coded (likes men) and mentally ill (capitalist)

Dan is woman coded (buys expensive clothes) and mentally ill (likes hyperpop)

Dan is woman coded (yells at everything) Phil is man coded (tells him to shut up)

Phil is woman coded (makes excuses for his man and also teaches his man how to do basic tasks)

Dan is woman coded (tries to be vegan) Phil is man coded (eats that meat)

Phil is man coded (gaslights) Dan is woman coded (gatekeeps)

Dan is woman coded (decorates) Phil is man coded (owns drill)

Dan and Phil are woman coded (i’m in love with them)

Dan is woman coded (has beef with grandma) Phil is man coded (insecure about hair)

Phil is woman coded (big ass) Dan is man coded (flat ass)

Phil is man coded (leaves socks everywhere) Dan is woman coded (complains about it)

Dan is woman coded (big soft lips) and Phil is man coded (big soft lips but overall looks like a bird of prey)

Dan is lesbian coded (hardcore phillie) and mentally ill (lowkey a stalker)

Dan is lesbian coded (tall)

Phil is in fact Kyle.

Destiel goes canon in Russia which leads us to conclusion that "the problem isn't that there are alternate timelines with BIG, people just got different dubs. Phan canon in Spanish but only friends in Italy?? Open relationship in German but married in Portuguese."

Anon predicted discourse but for the wrong fandom (x).

Parallel Universe where Dan left Phil for Nick Jonas.

Dan screams every time Phil tries to say he loves him and Phil slaps Dan every time Dan's nice to him.

AU where Drama is a Larry drama blog.

Joint headstone again. Joint coffin? Joint urn.

Discourse if whichever one that didn't die first is moving to fast and conspiracy theory that Phil killed Dan for the life insurance.

"Dan turns into a tree and phil does the thing where they launch his body into space so he can float up there." "Dan gets turned into a cherry blossom and phannies can’t stop making cherry jokes".

New idea: penis shaped headstone. Their names are engraved on each ball.

We hope they pay their maid good money.

Hot potato relationship.

Dnp brothers.

Tops only dramablog. Not a bottom friendly space.

Drama got put in jail.

Who did the first shit in forever home? (Phil because milkshake).

AU where Dan never started youtube and we don't know who is that guy in Phil's video's background.

SamAndPhilSwims and samisnotonfire.

Who had the last shit in the apartment?

"Every time I see a picture of Dan pre-2014 I think about that Avril lavigne conspiracy theory "

Drama has been a phannie lowkey the entire week.

Now Drama can schedule asks.

having all of the x-coded asks in a list like that really gave me a chuckle

[feralandmoonstruck]

First and last lines game

Rules: List the first and last ten (10) lines of some of your WIPs. Then tag some friends.

I don't have any stories published, but here are the 2 wips I'm working on currently. I'm tagging @abalonetea for Coaltown, specifically, @pheita for Of Foxes and Dragons, and @kjscottwrites for Cavernous. If you so choose :d

Shadowed Glass, first lines:

“What’s this?” They looked up from their place on the floor, clutching the blanket around their shoulders as a mug was thrust into their hands.

“Eggnog.”

They blinked in confusion, but wrapped their hands around the mug nonetheless. “Is this homemade? Is this why your house smells so good?”

He sank to the floor next to them, “If you’d rather have something warmer, I know you’re probably freezing, I’ve got cider I can heat up. Or cocoa if you prefer that.”

“That’s kind of you. Kinder than I deserve. But the eggnog should be just fine.” They took a sip, their eyes falling closed in bliss. “This tastes better than anything I’ve ever had.”

He refused to meet their eyes, staring instead into his own cup. “No one deserves to be out in the snow, all alone. Not on a night like this.”

“You’re a better person than I, but I appreciate the sentiment and the help all the same.”

“Why– You seem so human now. Why can’t you be like that out there,” he motioned absently at the world that lay beyond his house.

A slow smile spread across their face. “It’s a matter of principle, really. Life would be so boring if I weren’t like that out there. Don’t bother trying to deny it, this affects you, too.”

He took a deep, steadying breath. Their words stung. The truth they spoke was not something he could deny, no matter how much he wanted to. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

Shadowed Glass, last lines:

“Yes, please.”

“Sure thing. I’ll get out of your way.” Umbra stepped back and went for the linen closet. The sky blue robe inside was so thick and plush it was like being encased in a feather bed. He pulled it on before letting the towel drop and tying it closed. “Where should I wait?”

“The living room is fine. Or the guest bedroom if you want.”

“I’ll take the bedroom. Sitting in a stranger’s living room with nothing but a towel on seems… indecent.”

Labrea’s laugh was more breath than sound. “That’s fair. Guest bedroom it is then.” Umbra followed them back through the penthouse. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back shortly.”

“See you again soon.”

Ori was back, and Umbra was dressed by the time Labrea had finished with their shower. Both of them were sitting on opposite ends of the couch.

“Hey, Ori,” they asked, “would you mind giving me a hand?”

She stood up, “Sure thing. Also, you should know that I called Matrix. She’ll be here in a bit.”

“She’s getting new papers for us.” This was more a benefit for Umbra than a question for Ori. That’s what Matrix did. She turned people into ghosts.

Moonstruck, first lines:

“Alright sleepy head, time to get up!” Apollo called through the door.

A moment later Ilya flung the door open with a yawn. He was wearing one of Apollo’s old shirts, the neck of it stretched out to the point that it hung off his shoulder. “‘s too fucking early.”

Apollo ignored the comment. “Don’t you look hot as fuck.”

Ilya tilted his head up, his eyes still bleary with sleep. “You think so?”

“I do.”

“Why don’t you do something about it then?”

Apollo pushed Ilya against the doorframe. His voice roughened to a growl as he stepped in close enough that their chests touched. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard.”

Ilya grinned wickedly. He raised up on his toes and kissed him. Apollo’s hand found Ilya’s throat and earned him a whine as their tongues slid together. He kissed across Ilya’s cheek and down his neck before sinking his teeth into Ilya’s shoulder. The resulting moan and the feel of Ilya hardening against his thigh made Apollo release him.

“Get your shit together,” He said as he stepped away and dragged the back of his hand over his mouth. “Smoothies in ten.”

Ilya whined as Apollo walked off, but he dutifully closed his bedroom door and pulled on his running clothes.

Moonstruck, last lines [[Warning for (mildly) explicit material]]:

“I promised I’d give you something, not that I’d give you an orgasm. You’re not getting one of those until you get the cage off. You know the rules.”

“Kendrick,” he whined.

Kendrick eased the toy out. “It’s not too much longer.”

Ilya squeezed his eyes shut. He’d be so close. But Kendrick knew that. He knew every exact moment his mate was on the verge, knew exactly when to do what to make the most, or least, of the moment. But Ilya never stopped hoping he’d break his rules just once.

Kendrick gathered up the toy and lube, taking them back to the dresser. When he returned, he held a bottle of water out to Ilya. “Apollo’s going to get you cleaned up while I straighten things up here.”

Ilya took the bottle of water, the cap already loosened, and took a long swallow. “Fine.”

“Don’t be mad, love. You know it’s worth the wait.”

Ilya sighed and wiggled petulantly in Apollo’s arms. “I’m tired of waaaiting.”

Apollo brushed strands of sweaty silver hair off the side of Ilya’s face. “C’mon. Let’s go shower and I’ll make breakfast, okay?”

Kendrick held out a hand. Ilya let him pull him to his feet and into a hug. Apollo stood and kissed Ilya’s shoulder. The three of them stayed like that for a long moment before Kendrick finally pulled away. “Go, I’ll see you in a bit.”