#and whatever else it is that makes me sneeze on the regular

[snzluv3r]

i feel like my allergies have gotten worse overnight again but it’s freezing outside so there’s no way anything new is suddenly in bloom to set me off but i’ve gone from my normal level of sniffly and sneezy to multiple full blown allergic fits in public a day seemingly overnight

[ceasarslegion]

I know so many large dog haters on this site have never spent any amount of time with a large breed much less owned one because half the things they comment "this is so aggressive and dangerous!!" on are just regular dog play behavior. Like so many dogs have big ferocious personas they put on while playing games but it's all fake, they're doing a bit. They like to play at being big strong predators because it makes the game more fun. All my dogs growing up used to have a play growl/bite/snarl and a real growl/bite/snarl where the play ones meant "pull on my rope toy more! Wrestle harder! I'm big and scary and ferocious!! Look at me go!!! >:3" and the more you made them do the play ones the more fun they were having playing with you, and the play bites were these big fang-bearing chomps that ended in little nibbles and licks when they actually hit your skin, play bites were never real bites.

And like yeah I get that if you don't know that individual dog you don't have the ear for how their fake play aggression sounds but most of those comments I see are on videos of large dogs whose fur isn't raised and tails are wagging and they're not trying to get away or actually break skin and they're sneezing periodically (dog language for "im playing :3 I'm not really being mean :3")

And like yeah sometimes when you play with large dogs they can get carried away and accidentally bite or scratch or whatever for real. You know what else carries that risk? Kids. Cats. Small dogs. Birds. Hamsters. Leaving your house. Existing in the world. Large dogs are not uniquely more dangerous or aggressive just because they're big. Like any other dog you just let them know they hurt you that time when they're young or newly adopted so they learn their limits and when to stop in the future and it'll be fine. It's just the right training and socialization like any other dog.

Some of the folks here would look at this and go "WHAT A HORRIBLE MEAN AGGRESSIVE DANGEROUS DOG PUT A MUZZLE ON IT AND KEEP IT AWAY FROM ME"

[dsnzfb]

Counting Numbers

OC writings :)

Cactus/Rose, 1.2k words, M/M, cold snz.

It's much fun to have your boyfriend be so observant of you that he knows you're sick before you do.

"-hhaAAiish!!"

"...Ten!" A grin spread on Cactus' face, confusing his boyfriend.

From behind a tissue, Rose choked out a "Pardon?" 

"You've sneezed ten times today now."

"Thanks for counting, I... I think? You usually just say 'bless you'." A pointed sniffle, the taller man lowering the thoroughly used tissue from his irritated nose.

"This many in such a short time? Are you feelin' good, baby?”

Rose frowned, "...Sensitive. Sorry, this must be so gross, I- hhiiTshh!!"

"Eleven. I don't think it's gross, you can't exactly control it. Well, you're tryin', but..."

"Hhah- ahh- hhaaAAa-!! aaSshii!! Hhatshhiew!! Gghwaagh.." he whined pathetically, accepting another handful of tissues from his boyfriend.

"What's that, twelve, thirteen?"

"If it keeps on like this," the redhead blew his nose softly, "We'll find out how high you can count."

"Bully! But not wrong. This is more than regular sensitivity, you allergic to somethin' around here? Did I forget to dust? Or are you comin' down with a cold?" Cactus traced a thumb over his cheek slowly, intimately, "Either way, you know I'm gonna look the fuck after ya, right?"

"Language..." Another sniffle, despite his previous efforts, "Ugh... I should send you away so you don't catch this thing, if I have fallen ill..."

"But....?"

"But I... God, this is so selfish, but I want you to stay. Take care of me, give me cuddles..."

"Hah, that's a cold, all right. Tch, poor thing, you only get this clingy when you're sick. Mind if I check your temp?" Cactus didn't expect a fever, but Rose had surprised him before. All he needed was a gentle 'mmm' for permission, and he clicked his tongue.

"Startin' to get a little warm, but that might just be that my hands are cold. Whatever, gonna make you rest and take medicine anyway, should help with those body aches you get when you're feverish."

"How do you remember all this?"

"I try so I can help better next time. It's not creepy, is it?"

"No, it's swee--aahiigGSH! H-hhah- hahchii!! Hhashhii!! Aaeeshiiiu!! ...Wah."

 "Bless you, baby. See, I've lost count already. I'm just gonna say you're gonna sneeze like, a bajillion times today."

Wrapping his arms around himself and dropping the crumpled tissue, a shiver ran through Rose's body, a sad and tired expression on his face as he accepted that he was, in fact, quite unwell. Without saying a word, Cactus pulled his scarf off and easily wrapped it around his boyfriend's neck, smiling at Rose when he looked up in surprise.

"But that's-"

"Shhh, shh. Gotta keep you warm. That any better?"

"....Mm, it is rather nice..."  

"Need anythin' else? Is it prime time for you to obtain a 'boyfriend hoodie'?"

Rose laughed, hiding his lower face behind the familiar-smelling scarf. "You give that up, you'll never get it back. You're lucky I know how much this scarf means to you, so... Mercifully, I won't steal this."

"You want me to carry ya to bed?" Cactus continued, Rose rolling his eyes as a response.

"Cactus, I'm not an invalid. It's a little cold, the sofa is more than fi... Fi... Ffi-IIishh! Iihtsshi! Iishiie! Tsshiew-iishhIiew!! AahptshHh! Kktshhiiu!"

His eyes snapped open as he realised what he'd done.

".....Oh mby god." A nervous sniffle, "I'm so sorry."

"Whoa, bless you, bless! Jeez, you good? We hit a hundred yet?" 

A thick, warm hand caressed Rose's hair. Slowly, his eyes closed again, leaning into the touch. It felt so nice against his aching head.

Wait, no, wait, stop distracting him.

"C-Cac, I sneezed on your scarf, how are you not mad? Are you mad? I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to, my nose just tickles s-so bad right now, even just mentioning it-"

"Bless you."

"Aag-hh- I- I haven't even- s-sneezed again yet...." Rose's nose scrunched up, nostrils twitching in irritation.

"Listen, Rose... I seriously don't mind. It can be washed. You need the warmth, and it was there. I'm not gonna be mad about you getting sick, I knew what I was signing up for when I put it on ya. You can let 'em out."

"G-ggh- no, it's... Don't wanna do it again... Bad enough I... I... Hhih-... Did it before..."

Cactus blinked at him, nonplussed. 

"You serious? It's already done, just let 'em out. Hey, better yet, get that tickle out with a biiiiiig sneeze. Big breath in, that's it. Think of dust. Think of, uh... A cute, fluffy dog."

This man was going to kill him. He couldn't. That's Cactus's scarf. He wears it every single day, no matter how hot it is. And here Rose was, sneezing into it and dirtying it! The disrespect of it all!

"I... C-cah-... Can't..."

"Yeah, ya can. Come on, imagine somethin' real tickly. Ooh, one of those stereotypical feather dusters! You know the ones, that come with the french maid outfi-"

"Caaaaac, s-stop, I.... I need... T-to..." Rose's chest shuddered with hitches, eyebrows tugging higher and higher, "Need... Need... Hhi-iih-!! Iihh...."

Stray fibres from the scarf itself weren't helping matters, yet he wasn't pulling it down, or taking it off. It brought a smile to Cactus's face, and it made him want to tease the florist relentlessly.

"Come on, I know you wanna. I know you gotta. It's really no problem, you can sneeze against me if you want."

"A-a-absolutely not! You- I... It's... Nng-ggh... Gghk-TSsh-! Iighshh! Ttsh! Ii-iih-iihTSHii!! Iktshiew! I-i-iisSHhiew! A-ah... Ahh'ttshHIIi!! G'ttSHHEw!! Aauaagh, oh, god..." 

Cactus blinked at him, "Whoa, bless you! Damn, that was a lot, are you do-"

"GghTSSH! HHht-tsshiew-iishHhew!! IitshHHEee!! Ii-h... Hht'shShew! P'tshiu!!" Rose interrupted him, the held-back fit tumbling out.

"Guess that answers that question. Jeez, bless you a kajillion times." The barista grabbed a handful of tissues, offering them up to his incapacitated boyfriend. They were taken gratefully, Rose motioning for Cactus to turn around with a single finger.

“Really?”

“Dod’t look at be. I’b a bess…”

He obeyed with a chuckle. He's seen Rose in much worse states, yet he was embarrassed by this. So cute. Cactus couldn't help a wide grin on his face as he heard Rose blowing his nose and groaning in upset, likely at the ‘mess’ he made of the scarf.

Snf!

“Cactus, I have to wash this before I return it to you. I'm not having you catch this because you wanted to do something nice for me.” There was a rustling sound that accompanied this, which Cactus surmised as Rose attempting to clean the scarf off at least a little. He snuck a glance, and smirked at his suspicions being confirmed.

“I mean, you will return it, but keep it as long as you need.”

“Caaac…”

“Look, you put it on, I'll get you some medicine, some tea, then we can snuggle and watch that show you like. Whassit. ‘Dick’s Deals’? It'll be like you never left England.”

Whether Cactus got it wrong on purpose or not, Rose almost choked with laughter regardless. “P-Pffft- do you mean ‘Dickinson’s Real Deal'? It's just bad daytime TV, you don't have to do that.”

“Ah, but there ain't nothin’ better when you're feeling like shit, right?” He stroked Rose's hair, smoothing it out after his intense sneezing fits left it disheveled, “You've done the same for me.”

“....Mmm. Don't be long, then. I want you here.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” 

[spilledmilkfkdies]

Hello! I have a headcanon ask; how do you think the wizards are when they’re sick? (As in ‘having a cold’ sick, not ‘complete and total destabilisation of their powers and turning into a bat demon’ sick.)

Wdym "not 'complete destabilisation of their powers and turning into a bat demon' sick"?? 😔😔 that's my favourite type of sick!! Scurvy close second. But FINE, I guess we'll stick to a cold, perhaps a tummy ache if we dare-

Getting Duman out the way right off the hhhnnnggggg bat. I don't think he really gets sick. In a regular sense. The viruses and whatnot just don't really have anything solid to hold onto like that idk. If anything he is the disease, he carries so much shit in there it's unreal. Could probably give someone the worst rash of their life with just a touch if he really wanted to! Or the plague. Again.

Nah but actually!! If we imagine him to be close to something the average person might consider sick for a sec, for him that might be fatigue, general discomfort for whatever reason, things like that- This creature gets so incredibly moody, snaps at anyone and anything, wants to be left alone really bad. Also often experiences a change in appetite as well, so making sure he gets his fuel is a must, even if he's being a total bitch about it. If the change in appetite refers to him being hungrier though? Genuinely good luck with that. Either stock the fuck up or make peace with the fact he's gonna be out. Doing stuff. Where does he leave it all? Idk the void?? Duman’s insides are an abyss of their own, literally don't worry about it.

Gantlos!!!!! Gantlos strikes me as a very "As long as I can stand, I'm fine." *noticeably struggles to stand* "..As long as I can hold my head up-" type of guy. Doesn't get sick a lot, according to himself. But only because things like a common cold get ignored so insanely hard by him, except for the occasional nose blowing and expertly concealed coughs. If it doesn't leave him bedridden, he simply does not acknowledge that he's sick. He's not above popping a few aspirins though, maybe surprisingly? Healing spells are an absolute no though.

He just doesn't enjoy being "in the way" or a "nuisance", so nobody is allowed to take care off him or be bothered by the fact he's not 90% healthy- Except himself. Same applies to injury cases as well btw. It's not because he doesn't like the care itself, necessarily, it really just boils down to "Surely you could be spending this time doing something more important" but nuh uh. Gantlos get a grip smh. Massive hypocrite btw, literally if anyone else is sick he's the first person to get them whatever they need. How absolutely outrageous that anyone would DARE to try and do the same for him right-

Ogron absorbs all the germs. And I'm not fully confident in saying that; unlike with regular damage, it does nothing for his powers. Because imagine!! He sneezes and something just EXPLODES in the background? Now, does it make sense? Maybe not. But something about snobby, confident, put-together Ogron completely losing his grip does something for me. And I would very much like to explore it. Tbh illness affecting the wizards' powers as a whole is so fun to play around with.. The doors Duman has opened.. But rn I'm grabbing Ogron specifically, both because of the reason mentioned above, but again, the damage thing as well kinda. What's an illness if not your immune system taking a couple hits amirite ahaha- "Oh dude! You seem to be taking damage!! Not to worry though, I got ya covered." *proceeds to provide Ogron with enough magical energy to explode things with his eyeballs* ass immune system smh.

Beside the magic thing though? I bet sick Ogron is so incredibly annoying omg. Coughs once and slips into the role of a dying Victorian child. Take him to see the garden. One last time. Like literally just drink your water and take a nap, there's no need for all of that.

Then we once again have Anagan, our saving grace- In like the least boring way possible, he's pretty chill about it all. He doesn't usually stay sick for very long though, so maybe that plays a part. Just takes some rest, eats his fruits, knows his own limits pretty well and all that. Unless the illness sticks around for too long. Like maybe a day over his usual and he starts getting a bit whiny, but offer him any remedies, magical or not, and he'll refuse with a "Nah, it'll be over soon anyway." ??? Stfu then smh JKJK-

In his defense though, it does depend on what illness he's throwing hands with. He handles colds fairly well, but anything that makes any of his muscles start cramping up is his absolute worst enemy. AND STOMACH BUGS, those put him out of commission no matter how long they last fr. Speedster with a more sensitive stomach than usual? Going through a lot of motion? Nobody wants that. Anagan least of all, he despises being nauseous with his whole being. Who doesn't? Relatable king! What he'd really need then is some company. On the other side of the couch. Do NOT touch him. That's when the others can really tell Anagan is feeling under the weather, the noticeable lack of physical contact. Still can't fully distance himself though, he's just a very social individual like that.

[bepisbee]

feeling nasty so heres a hurt/comfort sickfic

read on ao3

He knew what being sick meant. They had told him all about it, but being a monster he had never experienced it before. Before now, anyway. It was awful. It almost made him wish he hadn’t become a regular person. He didn’t realize it at first, feeling slightly off. He sneezed more, kept sniffling, this gross stuff came out. But then his head ached and he could hear less from one side, sounding like static fuzz. Then came the draining and coughing and he sure as hell could not ignore or hide it anymore.

He coughed into his sleeve again, having been yelled at before that it was gross not to.

“Oh, poor Shadow.” Green frowned. “That sounds terrible.” He walked into their room with a glass of warm water mixed with honey, and handed it over.

“Thaah-aa- ahem” he cracked. “Thanks OG.” Shadow drank gratefully. Slightly soothing his rough throat. “Mm.”

“Blue is making some honey candies for you to suck on, some of them with some herbs Vio grows he says will help with vitamins and soothing and… I don’t remember honestly he was rambling. He’s so worried about you, it’s sweet.” Shadow blew his nose into a tissue and tossed it into the trash bin they set next to the bed. “Getting bored yet?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I might actually end up reading some of the books Vio left for me. He said they’re not too hard and mostly fiction.” He sighed nasally, leaning his head back and then forward again. ‘ughh okay nope can’t do that. eugh. How can y'all stand this? I can literally feel it draining into my-”

“Eww- Shadow gross! I don’t wanna hear about it.” Green made a face and patted his leg. “Drink your water, Vio’ll bring up some tea and whatever he’s brewing up down there. Let us know if you need anything else okay, buddy?” he got up and Shadow nodded, turning an agreement into another cough.

“Feel better,” he left him alone to his misery.

Shadow woke up, head feeling giant and chest tight. He sat forward coughing harshly. Someone next to him gently rubbed his back. Shadow’s eyes napped up, instantly relaxing when he saw it was Vio. “Hey…”

“Hey, love. How you feeling?”

“Same.” he frowned. Vio handed him a glass of honey yellow liquid that was purple on the bottom. It was warm to the touch. “?”

“It’s a tea short version. It has honey, lemon, menthol, elderberry syrup, cinnamon, and of course water. I made it sweeter for you.” Vio  kissed his forehead. Shadow shut his eyes, the appreciation of care warming him in a way much better than the fever.

“I love you.” Shadow stirred the drink with the long spoon that was in the cup and drank some. “Oh, wow.” he chugged half. “I didn’t expect medicine to taste good?”

“It’s not quite medicine,” he smiled, “But close enough.” he handed over a small compressed thing. “This is, though. A new technique I’ve been working on with Syrup. It’s a bit much to explain everything but it should help your fever and swelling.”

“Are you saying that because there’s some kind of mushroom in it?” Shadow deadpans at him. Even if he couldn’t taste them, he absolutely hated mushrooms. Vio didn’t respond, only pushing the tiny piece at him. Shadow made a dramatic sigh that turned into a cough. “Fuck- fine. anything to feel better at this rate.”

“Take it whole without chewing, drink with it.”

“I know how to swallow, darlin.” Shadow laughed and winked. He winced and then took the medicine. “Ugggh.”

“Good boy.”

Shadow’s face pinked, and the whipped around the face him. “Excuse me!?”

“hahahaha,” Vio wrapped an arm around him. “You earned that one,” He maneuvered Shadow off the bed. “Come with me.”

“Where?” Shadow wobbled, dizzy. He helped lead him to their bathroom, where a hot bathrub steamed a little, smelling faintly of flowers. It had to be strong if Shadow could smell it in his state. The mirrors were all fogged up already.

“A warm bath is gonna help a lot. It soften the muscus in your nasal passages and lungs.”

“Can I have that in Hyrulian please?” Shadow pulled off his sweaty top and pants shamelessly. Despite his earlier joke, he really was in no mood to be fooling around like that right now.

“You’ll feel better. Sneeze and cough when you need to and get rid of it.” He translated, and helped Shadow into the tub.

“Oooh.” He laid back, the salted bath soothing him. He even tilted his head back a little against the ledge. “This is nice.” Vio sat next to him. “Thanks darlin.” he sighed and relaxed in the water, letting the warm steam help clear him up. Vio handed him tissues as he needed between small talk. Which mostly consisted of just Vio talking at him, instead of with, but he was okay with that. Vio leaned in with something on his hands. “??”

He started to scrub his hair with something sudsy. Shadow hummed and shut his eyes and he was pampered. Vio gently rubbing his scalp and washing him clean. “Okay, love, dunk for me?” Shadow submerged his head and came back up. “Perfect,” He grabbed a sponge and soap. 

“You know I can bathe myself right?” Shadow isn’t actually protesting, as evident by his arm he puts out for him right away.

“I know. But I like taking care of you, you deserve it.” Shadow didn’t expect that, not in that sweet tone that Vio reserved only for him. His heart soared and he had to look away. He chuckled and washed him with care, taking some time. Down his thighs and between of course. Shadow grumbled at him for teasing him and he moved on. Vio left a delicate kiss to his lips.

“Don’t- you’re gonna get sick.” Shadow frowned sternly.

“Love, I’ve been sleeping and laying next to you. I’m going to get sick anyways.” he places another on his forehead again. He helped Shadow out of the draining tub and dried him off, while he held the counter for balance. Vio kissed his hand and arms and shoulders and stomach.

“Vio,” he warned.

“Mmmhm.” he relents. “Wait here a second, I forgot to grab clothes for you.” He hands over the towel to cover up while he stepped out. Shadow looked dup to the ceiling. He would be the death of him, he swore. But he did feel much better. Vio returned with some soft cotton pants and an undershirt. Shadow slipped into them, relishing the clean clothing. They walked back to the room where fresh bedding now covered their bed.

“Aw, Vi,” he started.

“Mm-m. It’s good for you. Sleeping in your own germs with only get you worse. Plus feeling clean makes you heal faster.” Vio laid him back down with a fresh blanket. “I’m gonna start on a stew with Red.”

“Potatoes??” he perked up.

“Of course, love.” He could hide vegetables easily in it if Shadow was distracted with his favorite starch. Blue knocked and walked in with a little bag.

“Hey, I got those candies.” he handed them over quickly. “Feel better.” he ran out of there. He really hated germs and sick. Vio thanked him as he ran and Shadow took one.

“I don’t know how I can thank all of you, you’re so nice.” Shadow sniffled and turned away his cough.

“Just try and get better. Worry about everything else later,” he pat his back and got up, “I’ll be right downstairs if you need me for anything.”

“Thank you.” he replied. Even though he felt awful at the same time, he felt really good. They were there for him. Shadow fell asleep like that, a tiny smile on his face.

[bigsnzstanacct]

My entry for "first line paragraph of dialogue" prompt:

"Uh? Why are you still holding back your sneeze? This building has been thoroughly reinforced to survive even the fiercest hurricane, you know?

I've seen how big your sneezes can get, they were huge! And that's even before you started diving as a hobby in college, but... They can't possibly have grown this much bigger in just 4 years, right?"

“Ummmmmmmmmm…” she literally twirled a strand of her blond hair. Surely she was doing this on purpose?

“Cmon. Come on. You’re just… cause I told you about my… like it can’t really…”

“I just, like, don’t want to chance it!”

“Chance what, Heather, like I said the way this building is reinforced…”

“Yeah, to the S5 standard, 2024 update, rated and tested for 99% of blah blah blah and five tons of atmospheric whatever whatever, all I know is, I’ve blasted through everything else, so why wouldn’t I blast through… thihhhhh… hihhhHHHH… HIIT-SSSSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWwwwwwwwwwwwiiiieeeEEEE!”

God, when she held back the sneezes were just so *long* and *wet*! The wall was absolutely soaked, a puddle of moisture forming at its base.

“Brad can we just leave soon? It’s a pain in my ass keeping them so small and cute and I just want to sneeze hard enough to st… stop… ugh my nose is killing me today…”

“Just sneeze here! It’s fine! I literally got this place…” I clamped a hand over my mouth, my traitorous mouth getting ahead of itself.

“Wait… wait… did you… Braaaaaaadley that’s so precious! You knew I was moving back to town so you tried to get a place that could handle my sneezes! You big dumb sweetheart, *nowhere* can handle my sneezes! Seriously, my last test—you know they make us do annual tests or whatever once you’re in a certain category blah blah blah—anyway my last test they said basically I have to have a custom place if I’m gonna be sure it’ll, you know… make it if I have a big one. Or a regular one really. But that was so sweet of you to try!”

“H-Heather you can’t… you can’t say shit like that to me…”

She looked down, pointedly, and then back up. “Hm! Looks like now we b-both have… both have a pr-problem we have to hohhh… to hooooHhhhHHHHHHHH… to… hhhhUUUHHHH… HAHHHH! HHAAAAHHHHH! HHHHAADDTT—! HHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWwwwwwssssssSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Whew! H-hold back.”

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @nczaversnick!

OC Mega Questionaire

Random number generator suggests Djek :)

Five things that make you happy:

I mean, money in my pocket. That's like, the main one. A hopped-up party is probably second, with a crowd of rich drunks to follow. I guess after that... card games? Oh, and my friends! Can't forget those losers.

If you could save just one other person who would it be?

I... Am I an idiot if I say Tyche? She betrayed me, left me for dead. I doubt she- I doubt she ever cared about me in the first place. But I wish she could've. I wish she could've been better.

Tell us one of your funniest jokes:

Why does the sea roar? Well, you'd be hollering too if you had crabs on your bottom.

Where would you like to visit?

Oh, tough question. I've really been around, you know? Hit up most of the big cities - I don't got much use for hiking bullshit. If I could go anywhere, I think I'd pick Seluthena. Yeah, yeah, it's underwater, but there's magic. Sepo talks about it sometimes, and it sounds pretty. Plus, I want to see if all sirens are such hard asses.

When do you usually go to sleep?

Uhhh.... Probably three? Don't get on my ass about it, ok?

Are you a jealous person?

Totally not. I'd never be jealous of someone when I can steal whatever fancy digs they've got instead. ...I guess I used to be kinda jealous of Twenari’s sorcery when we first met, but she'll use it better than I ever would.

Have you committed a crime?

Seriously? I'm not gonna dignify that with an answer.

Do you have a chore you usually hate?

Ugh, what chore don't I hate? Laundry is probably my least favorite. Remembering to fold it feels like pokers in my brain.

Tell me an embarrassing childhood story

Ok, ok, ok, this is a good one. So, some of the bigger street kids were chasing me - I had some food they wanted and this one teen, Miks, just had it out for me anyways after he found me sleeping in this drain pipe he liked. They chased me all the way up into this warehouse, so I figured I'd hide, yeah? I jumped into the nearest crate only to find, oh shit, it's full of flour. It's getting all up in my nose and mouth, and I just know I'm gonna sneeze any second now, but the other kids are in the building. That's when I had my glorious idea. I stagger up outta the flour, groaning like some unholy spirit and waving my hands all menacingly. I conjured up some shadows and all those kids started screaming like nothing else, thinking I was an actual ghost. Miks even pissed himself! Course, they caught on a second later and beat the ever-loving snot out of me, but I kept looking up at that stain on Miks' leg and giggling the whole time. ...Ah memories.

Are you a good person?

I try. I know I've failed in my past, and I'll fail again in the future, but I still try as best I can. I think that counts for something, right?

What’s the worst thing you have ever done? Do you regret it?

I let a little girl watch her mom get beaten to a pulp in front of her eyes. I let my best friend be taken by a demon she'd spent her whole life fighting. I killed an evil man and stopped him from doing an evil thing, but I still wonder late at night if he could've been redeemed. I regret all three.

What’s the quickest way to make you laugh?

Heh, tell me a dirty joke, and I'll probably be on the floor.

What is your favorite song right now?

The Kindly Vixen. It always has and it always will be a visionary among bad bar songs.

Do you sometimes wish to be someone else?

Oh, every day, my friend. I don't usually mean it, but yeah, every day.

Do you push forward or take time to rest?

What, do you think I'm some sort of soldier type? Some expert mage who stays up too late and doesn't remember to eat her breakfast? Nah, I take it easy when I can because who knows when the next opportunity will come around.

What is your favorite drink?

Dryuenya tyri. It's sweeter than regular tyri, and people usually mix it with cherry juice.

If you had to pick an item of clothing or accessory to wear for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Shit, maybe a bandana? It's a pretty versatile piece. Or, wait, maybe glasses would be more practical. Damn, I wish I had glasses.

If you were forced to forget one memory, what would you choose?

One of those hungry street nights. They all run together anyways.

What is a positive thing your worst enemy would say about you?

I'm a determined little bastard, I'll tell you what. I'd like to think even my enemies can appreciate just how many times I get back up after taking a beating.

I'll tag @dragonedged-if @pluppsauthor @watermeezersworldofkaldria @wyked-ao3 @uraniumwriting and anyone else who wants in :)

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Yes, hello! I am currently dealing with allergies in my dorm room. May I please have any of the Noah's Ark Circus crew taking care of an s/o who has an awful case of allergies? I'm talking similar to seasonal allergies but year-round and unpredictable AF. I hope I'm not asking too much.

never too much! aaaaaaaa

Well, she’s doin’ the best she can, but… wot exac’ly is she s’posed t’ do?? Other than fetch you anything you need, which she’s already doing. It’s not as if she knows of anything that can make a person stop sneezing, after all. And, although she sometimes gets a little irritated by the repetitive noises when symptoms crop up, she knows it’s a her problem and not your fault. She’s definitely sure that you’re infinitely more irritated with it all than she could ever be. Still, the best way to help eludes her… you just tell her what you need and she’ll do it, she simply doesn’t have any ideas of her own which might help. Other than giving you kisses on the cheek and running a loving hand through your hair, as long as you’re alright with that. She can’t ‘fix’ anything; she’s a great emotional support, though, and maybe that’s all she really needs to be.

Errrrr… damn… ‘e don’t s’pose some kinda tea might ‘elp, would it? The first time he experiences this he’s almost in shock, seeing that they’re treating it like this is normal for them. He’s pretty sure something like that would drive him mad — regular hayfever in the spring is bad enough! Despite that he might get a little bit of it himself, it’s nowhere near as severe as (Name)’s, and at least that slight bit he goes through lasts only a couple of months. He’s the type to dote as much as he can, offering possible remedies that he’s asked around about and reminding his S/O every so often that he’ll do whatever they need him to. It makes him pout some, to see them in a not insignificant amount of misery with nothing he can do about it. At least he’s there, so he prides himself on making sure he takes very good care of them.

Lord, but they never seen someone sneeze so many times in a row! Ain’t (Name) dizzy?? If nothing else, they understand that yes, their darling is probably a little lightheaded from all that. Immediately following any kind of allergy attack, Freckles is quick to let their S/O lean on them, or they’ll reach over to steady their sweetheart. They have no shame in the way that they try to help, mainly because it’s the kind of thing they’d hope someone who loved them would do for them. That’s what it should be, shouldn’t it, to treat someone you love the way you want to be treated? Of course, they’re forever giggling about it, teasing their S/O: “Oi, y’ exaggeratin’ this jus’ ‘cause y’ want me t’ ‘old y’? Y’ don’t need an excuse f’r that!” It’s mostly an effort to get them to smile and make them feel a little better during moments that might be a struggle. None of it really bothers Freckles, and they’re perfectly willing to ask what they can do to be of help. Whatever their darling needs, they’ll get!

Haha, goodness… they’re a sight! Aww, ‘e ain’t laughin’ at ‘em, ‘e’s jus’… th’ situation’s a li’l funny! While he’s never really seen someone with these kinds of allergies before, he can certainly imagine that it’s not a good time at all. He and his family have run into a lot of different people in their lives, so this sort of thing doesn’t really surprise him despite it being something he’s never encountered until now. Honestly, his poor darling; he’ll have to take them to visit Doc and see if there isn’t anything which might take the edge off, however small it may be. Aside from that, he’s always more than glad to take care of them. All they need to do is tell him what they need, and as long as it’s something that’s physically and financially possible, he’ll find a way to make it happen. He also thinks he’s hilarious, because he counts their sneezes, and gives them a half-affectionate, half-cheeky, “Bless ye ten times, m’ love!” once they’re finally done. Just smack him to train him out of that habit!

Wot the devil… are they alright?? They’re not comin’ down with somethin’, are they? He’s far more likely to assume it’s illness, (mostly in the beginning), than he is to think it’s some kind of year-long hayfever sort of condition. Although he hasn’t ever heard of anything like that, he doesn’t have any problems accepting that’s what’s going on once they tell him. It makes him wince a little whenever they complain about their eyes watering, because he’s had his own issues with vision, and he’s a bit scared that it could lead to them not being able to see. Thankfully, he doesn’t often show his fear, and just does whatever they need him to do. If they’re okay with him carrying them around just in case they start sneezing, so that they don’t get dizzy, he’ll do that. As well, they don’t need to do anything other than mention something that may help, and he’s off to go get it or set it up or whatever they need. He doesn’t think anything of it, but he’s really incredibly attentive.

Good God, wot is goin’ on with them?! Even when ‘e’s sick as ‘ell, ‘e don’t sneeze or sniffle ‘alf as much as they do! Much like Jumbo, Peter is definitely inclined to think it’s a cold or something rather than allergies. While he’s got his own respiratory and immune issues, well… he complains in the beginning that his beloved is “bein’ drama’ic, surely it can’t be that bad??” He thinks they’re exaggerating for sympathy and rolls his eyes a little. (This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’s sometimes faked an extra sneeze or two so that he can ‘prove’ he’s so sick and has to sit out practice or performances. Nope. No projecting here.) Once it clicks that they literally can’t help it, he freaks out in a panic that he was so mean. It’s like watching a switch flip — he’s suddenly at their beck and call, fetching whatever he thinks they’ll need even before he thinks they’re going to ask for it. He surely feels bad about acting so dismissive, so he desperately wants to make it up to them. He might even apologize as he’s trying to take care of them. Dammit, he doesn’t want them to suffer!

(… How many times was that?) Hm. Not sure, Emily. Seven, was it? (Good grief. They’re never going to stop, are they?) Both he and his friends are all startled the first couple of times they see it happen. Actually, it’s a little funny, because Snake tends to sneeze at least five times in a row whenever he does, so he’s borderline relieved to see that it isn’t just him that happens to. Of course, he’s usually sick when he does, and he’s practiced for years to try to keep his from being noticed. (Name) looks a little dazed and annoyed, just… not really surprised. And they don’t seem ill. Tsk. Even though he doesn’t know exactly what it is, other than some kind of long-term hayfever, he knows that any cold remedies probably won’t work. So he tries some of the folk remedies for hayfever that he knows, gently sliding them over toward his sweetheart with eager eyes that beg them to try it. It puts him in pain to see them suffering, so he wants to ease it a little, if he can. If nothing else, he’s content to curl up with them and just… be there. Emotional support Snake, all the way.

One, two, three, four… Lord, ain’t it ever gonna let go of ‘em? They jus’ look so damn itchy ‘n’ uncomf’table! She couldn’t imagine having to sneeze so many times in a row, and coupled with the sniffling and watery eyes that apparently come with whatever this is, she’s quietly worried about her S/O. It extends into her going to see Doc, asking about if such a thing is normal and if anything might be able to help her darling out. That must get old, and she certainly knows how old it gets from the fact that she and Peter tend to catch a cold seemingly every two weeks in the winter. As far as she can picture, that’s a taste of what this year-round hayfever must be like for (Name). If they could see through their sneezing, they’d notice her watching them with a blatantly concerned expression whenever it happens. As small as she is, she thinks she can give them some help, or at least be of comfort. It’s not going to stop her from trying, anyway, so she likes to just lie down with them as often as she can, an attempt to get them away from whatever might be bothering them and a chance to relax. If they tell her anything will help, she’s prepared to go get it. She just… she wants to take care of them. Any way she can.

[thee-morrigan]

caught a lite sneeze

Forgot to post this here last night (i was too distracted by whatever was happening on ao3). I continue to be on my vampire bullshit <3

the wayhaven chronicles | nate/holland (f!detective) | rated g | also on ao3 Holland has a head cold; Nate learns that caffeinated water exists.

“I am not sick,” she said, but the protest fell on deaf ears. Which was offensively convenient, she groused to herself, since the ears in question were supposed to be extra good at hearing. Except, apparently, when the person to whom those ears belonged was (also apparently) no longer interested in debating this point with her.

Coward. He just didn’t want her to win the debate. Which she totally would have; though she would begrudgingly agree that he perhaps had some stronger arguments, she was nonetheless supremely confident in her ability to out-stubborn anyone.

Well. Except maybe Adam. But that was still a definite maybe.

But maybe it was for the best that they weren’t actually having this argument — even if the imagined version playing out in her mind happened to be going very favorably for her. He might have gained undeserved ground based on the series of sneezes that erupted out of her immediately following her protests about the pristine state of her health.

As it stood, Nate seemed to feel she’d made his point for him, as his only response was a single raised brow.

Holland huffed and slumped back against the wall of pillows she’d erected behind herself on the bed. 

“I hope you know you’re infuriating,” she rasped, grimacing at the sandpaper scratching her throat, raw and inflamed.

“Yes, I’m the infuriating one,” he said amiably, sweeping a thumb along her cheekbone before pressing a kiss on the bridge of her nose.

“Let me make you some tea. Do you have any or should I go get some?”

“I have coffee.” She tried a whisper. It hurt more than talking at a regular volume.

Nate sighed but didn’t fight the smile tugging on his mouth. “Coffee is a diuretic, and the caffeine will only irritate your throat more by drying out your vocal cords.”

Holland attempted a scoff, an effort her inflamed throat and lungs rewarded by spasming into a coughing fit. Damn her stupid, traitorous body for consistently undermining her.

He sighed again, rubbing a hand between her shoulder blades until her cough subsided. “Why don’t I just go look for myself?” 

And then he was rising from his seat on the edge of her bed, hand stretching out to smooth the covers that, as far as Holland could tell, were completely un-mussed.

“It’s not like I have any non -caffeinated tea here,” she mumbled at his retreating back, scowling at the soft laugh that floated in as he left to determine what, if anything, in her kitchen might be appropriate for a person with a head cold and not, if one were to judge based on the contents of her pantry, the drinking habits of a particularly overworked grad student. Or a person in a constant state of mania. 

She gave him all of two minutes (and it was two minutes, precisely: she’d watched the seconds tick away on her bedside clock, wondering if she could literally die of boredom — surely lying around in a vegetative state was not conducive to her health) before disentangling herself from her bedclothes and padding out of her bedroom after him. 

He looked entirely unsurprised as she stepped into the kitchen. 

Although...something else seemed to furrow his brow as he turned to look at her, one hand resting against her refrigerator door as he pressed it shut, the other...oh.

Not surprise on his face but, rather, something that looked like a warring mix of confusion, concern, and amusement. 

Amusement seemed to be winning.

“Your water is caffeinated.” Not a question, though the statement sounded nonetheless a bit strangled and uncertain.

Holland scowled again, crossing the kitchen to take the large can from him. “It’s sparkling water,” she defended, the aluminum slick and cool against her fingers as she pulled it from Nate’s grasp.

Amusement became the clear victor as he grinned down at her. “Oh, of course. Your sparkling water is caffeinated,” he said mildly.

His smile only widened as her scowl deepened. She briefly considered sticking her tongue out at him. The impulse was interrupted by another trio of sneezes, accompanied by an abrupt twist of her head to the side, one arm outstretched as she pressed her face into the crook of her elbow, against the sleeve of the gigantic flannel shirt she wore in lieu of a bathrobe over her pajamas. Nate took advantage of the interruption to reclaim the can of sparkling water from her outstretched hand, tucking it back inside her refrigerator.

She let him take the overlarge can from her, though that didn’t stop her from continuing to glower at him as she hoisted herself to perch on the countertop edge, idly bumping the heel of one foot against the cabinet door below. 

“Wire basket on the top right shelf,” she mumbled, tipping her chin in the direction of the pantry door behind him. “If — and it is an if , by the way — I have any tea, it’ll be in there.” 

He just kept smiling at her, though, those dark eyes warm and soft with a particular shimmer of affection as he looked at her. He was always looking at her affectionately, but sometimes he seemed to add some extra layer to it, some kind of soft-overlay glow of extra tenderness that tugged at the gentle downward slope of his eyes and smoothed the happy creasing at the corners of his mouth as his smile stretched. 

All he said before turning to investigate the aforementioned pantry section, though, was “Thank you.” 

For a moment, a comfortable quiet descended over her kitchen, punctuated only by the muted thud of Holland’s foot against the cabinet door and the softer scrapes of Nate shuffling through her pantry. And then— 

“A- ha ,” Nate turned back towards her, a small metal canister in one hand. Apparently she did have tea after all— and non-caffeinated at that, judging by the somewhat faded “ginger mint” on the label. 

Holland cocked her head and squinted. “What pocket of Narnia did you pull that out of?” Her voice cracked midway through emphasizing “that” and she grimaced, swallowing hard. 

Nate’s triumphant grin at finding actual, non-caffeinated tea in her apartment faded into a look of concern. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance I could persuade you to go back to bed and rest?” 

“I don’t know,” she said ( croaked ), “Is there any chance I could persuade you to stop fussing over me?”

He huffed a laugh, which meant he was at least sort-of smiling at her again as he crossed the few steps that separated them in her apartment’s tiny kitchen. He set the tea canister down next to her on the counter and smoothed her hair back from her face, letting his hand rest against the side of her neck.

“I’m always happy to let you test your powers of persuasion on me,” he teased gently, rubbing his thumb along her jaw, and she felt a starburst of warmth sparking underneath her ribs even as she rolled her eyes at him. (Even as she winced at the decidedly less pleasant starburst of pain that rolling her eyes caused.) “But I’m not ‘fussing’.” 

“You are absolutely fussing,” she said, and her voice was almost gone, all cracks and rough edges and chipped gravel.

Gods, her throat ached. All of her ached, actually. If she had any sense at all, she would go back to her bed and the piles of blankets Nate had brought her when he’d arrived and found her shivering with chills despite the warmth of her apartment. Despite her hoarse protests that she was fine and definitely not febrile. 

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You know you won’t suddenly become any less capable of taking care of yourself if you let someone else chip in from time to time, right?” 

There was a touch of amusement and more than a touch of fondness in his voice, and Holland felt the curve of his smile against her skin. 

“There’s a first time for everything,” she countered, but there was no fight in what remained of her voice. She wasn’t sure why she was trying to fight him on this anyway. Maybe she was just too contrary by nature. 

She gave a half-sigh, half-laugh that turned into a full cough for a moment, making her twist away from him again. When she could take a mostly full breath without her chest hurting on both inhale and exhale, she turned back to Nate with a rueful demi-grin and slid off the counter.

“Okay, you win: I’m going back to bed.” 

Nate’s smile brightened a bit with relief. “Thank you.”

“But only because it’s freezing in here.”

“Holland,” he called just as she reached the kitchen doorway, that melange of amusement and concern back in his voice.

She turned, brows raised in silent question. Even sick as she was — her normally bright eyes pain-dimmed and tired, her skin wan and gleaming with fever and fatigue — she still seemed half a breath from forming another disproportionately spirited and unexpectedly endearing defense of caffeinated water (of all things), or teasing him about “fussing” (which he wasn’t: he was showing an appropriate degree of concern for his very sick girlfriend). 

Even sick as she was, Nate couldn’t help but let himself be pulled in by her current, inescapably towed along by whatever invisible, immutable thread had stitched itself to them both. 

“Want me to bring you some cold medicine with your tea?” he asked finally.

Holland tugged the frayed sleeves of her flannel further over her fingers and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, shivering slightly. “Yes, please.” 

She shuddered again but gave him a grateful smile before turning and shuffling back to her bedroom. 

By the time he’d finished brewing her tea and finding where she kept medications (arbitrary cupboards and drawers, apparently), Holland had fallen asleep. She lay curled on one side, her face and the hand tucked beneath it only just visible beneath the mound of blankets she’d burrowed under. 

Very gently, Nate rested the mug of tea and packet of cold medicine on her nightstand, then slowly lowered himself onto the mattress beside her. Despite his efforts, she stirred a bit as he sat, squinting one eye open and scooting towards the middle of the bed to give him more than the couple of inches he’d had before. 

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” he murmured, running a hand over her hair. 

Holland leaned into his touch like a cat, eyes drifting shut again as her face relaxed. “S’okay,” she mumbled, reaching a hand blindly from beneath her blankets to find his. 

She squeezed his wrist — once, softly — then let go. “Thank you for looking after me.” 

“I will take care of you as long as you’ll let me, schatje.” 

She could hear the smile in Nate’s response, could feel it in the warm brush of his lips on her cheek. Could feel the warm stretch of another in the unbidden curve of her own lips, the counterpart and answer to his.

With a hum of a laugh, Holland murmured something that sounded like definitely fussing into the pillow and let the sweet oblivion of sleep reclaim her.

[faeriekit]

“Fenton!” Mr. Graves hollered from his office upstairs. Danny, who’d been halfway through a peanut butter and banana sandwich, chewed and swallowed.

“What?”

“The police are here!” the Funeral Home director yelled back, apparently done for the day. It wasn’t as if they could scream across the building when there were grieving families in the building.

“So?”

“So they want to talk to you!”

Danny sighed, and set his sandwich aside for later. He sure hoped whoever was the last one on the slab he was borrowing had been wiped up after, or else his sandwich was about to taste nasty. “Tell them to get down here, then!” Danny called back, and hopped off the stretcher to roll his sandwich straight into cold storage.

His lunch would be fine. Probably.

And you know what? Danny was perfectly prepared for the red-headed cop to come down with a notepad and a badge and a big brown overcoat, but he fully hadn’t considered the implications of the guy following after him in a big black cape and body armor.

“Uh,” said Danny, weirded out beyond belief. “There’s a…there’s a…guy behind you.”

The cop jerked backwards to look. And then, for some reason, the guy relaxed at the sight of the most tactical cosplay Danny’s ever seen, ever. “Nah. He’s with me. You never heard of Batman before?”

Danny squinted What the hell was a Batman?

“You’re new to Gotham, aren’cha’.”

“I got this job four months ago…?”

The police detective clicked his pen. “Close enough. Listen. We need to see the John Doe you got in a few hours ago; we have to confirm the case number on the tag for an ongoing investigation. You mind letting us see the body?”

Uh oh. That was one of Danny’s…regulars. “Uh, yeah… One sec.”

Danny wiped his hands down on his apron. He walked down the line of freezers, reaching out for the handle—

“Wait,” said the big, spooky, armored furry in the corner, and wow, was his voice dark. “The body was assigned a different freezer number.”

“Yeah,” Danny admitted, and kept his hand on the freezer he had been reaching for. “I had to move it earlier.”

“Why?”

There wasn’t really a polite way to say your named corpse has preferred freezer it likes to hang out in without sounding like an absolute idiot, so Danny just shrugs. “‘Cause.”

“And you didn’t make a note of it?”

Danny frowned. “I was going to correct the paperwork after lunch. You guys interrupted me in the middle. It’s in here.”

…The cop and his giant black bat of a— friend? Coworker? …More than friends?— exchanged glances, but eventually the cop motioned for him to continue opening the storage door and wheel out their dead guy.

Fine. Finally. Danny wheeled the stretcher out, double-checked his toe tag just for redundancy purposes, and hissed as quietly as he could in the body’s ear: “Behave.”

The body, obligingly, didn’t move. Good. Maybe this would go smoothly, and everything would be totally normal and nothing would happen. “Alright, here it is. Tell me when you’re done so I can put it back.”

The cop and his pal ignored him. Whatever. Danny wheeled his sandwich back out of cold storage, grabbed it off the table, and started eating it again, because what else was he supposed to do?

And, sure, it was kind of weird to see the cop and his friend poke and prod a body Danny knew was aware and sentient, if perhaps not as visibly sapient as Danny himself was. Dead things were weird sometimes. The bodies that swarmed to him always set off his ghost sense, but never enough to actually form the freezing fog in his mouth; it was a cold mouthful of air and quiet awareness, and little else.

But they came. In their quiet moments, they stayed. And in this mortuary room perfectly kept to Danny’s most comfortable fifty degree climate, Danny watched the police guy and his buddy analyze Danny’s most recent stitch job with blue surgical gloves and stainless steel tools.

Everything went perfectly well until Danny sneezed. The cop and the armored guy both kept their attention to their task (although the police guy at least muttered something polite), but the body looked over with its big gold eyes to the source of the sudden sound.

The two men froze. Danny wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“Sorry,” he muttered , embarrassed and a little hoarse. “Allergen season. I’m fine; go back to resting up.”

The corpses, whatever they were, were endlessly obedient. The body turned its head back to its sleeping position and closed its eyes and didn't breathe, which was very convincing, but probably not convincing enough for people who’d just seen it move on its own around zero seconds ago.

“...What,” said the armored furry, voice flat as a rock.

“They’re—” Danny shrugged. “I keep trying to tell them not to freak people out like that, sorry. Last week the little one almost gave the gravedigging crew a heart attack when it popped up out of the coffin a little too early. Harris wouldn’t stop yelling at me over the phone for something like twenty minutes.” You’d think a guy would have something better to do than scream at a random mortician over the line for something that was explicitly their problem once it left Danny's tender mercies.

The cop looked at the cloaked guy. The cloaked guy looked at the cop. “And they are…?” the police investigator asked, almost politely.

Danny shrugged loudly. “What do I know, dude? I just work here. Sometimes the bodies I work on start wiggling as soon as I let go. That’s not my problem.”

The way that the two stared at him implied that they thought that yes, it was Danny’s problem, but that wasn’t his problem either!

Danny took a bit ol’ bite out of his peanut butter sandwich, crossed his legs on the cold stretcher beneath him, chewed, and swallowed.

On the open stretcher, the body clicked its tongue.

“I’m not feeding you, dude,” Danny declared. “You can’t even digest it. It’s just going to sit around until you throw it up, and then guess who’ll have to clean it up?”

The cop made a weird strangled noise, but the correct answer was Danny, that’s who.

"Okay." Danny slowly laid the already cold body back onto the table, ready to slide back it into the refuge of cold storage. "Okay. Dead guy. Stay there."

The body didn't move.

"Fantastic. Now. Hang out while I pour the embalming fluid into the pump, alright? It should only be a minute."

And it usually did; working in a funeral home wasn't extremely glamorous, but it paid the bills, and Danny had already been used to the rhyme and rhythm of negotiating death with the public by the time he sent in his mortuary school application. It had been a transition that made sense. And in the end, the degree had only cost him a few extra years post-graduation and a little dig into student loans, and now Danny had a stable 12-8 job and health insurance valid in the state of new jersey.

Today, though, the pump had that decided enough was enough. With a bang and a boom, the pump spat out a cloud of smoke and clunked uncomfortably.

The dead body sat up.

Danny scrambled over to push it back down. "No. We talked about this. Dead people don't move. If you want to stay here and have me put you back together all the time, you have to stay put. Got it?"

Whatever the weird gold-eye corpses were on in Gotham, they at least listened to him on occasion. They weren't ghosts, per se— they never pinged on any of the ghost detection devices Mom and Dad had packed in his going-away-to-college bag— but they were, despite being occasionally animate, perfectly deceased.

Weird. Danny had never gotten used to it. Still, they came in droves, too eager to sit on the top of the basement stairwell and lurk in the corners and stare endlessly at them with their weird, avian eyes, and sometimes they heralded the arrival similarly weird-ass bodies that had lost their heads or their arms or their limbs through the more conventional channels.

"I'm losing too much thread to all y'all coming in all the time," Danny complained to the dead body, who, at the moment, was the only person present to blame. "Stop getting your limbs cut off. This stuff is expensive, you know. It's a specialty order."

The body didn't even have the courtesy to blink. Rude.

"At least let them bury you this time. Every time one of you darts off when my back's turned, my boss thinks I'm stealing corpses. My coworkers think I'm building my own Frankenstein or something."

The corpse neither verbalized nor blinked, but Danny hadn't expected it to; with a sigh, he rolled the corpse back into cold storage, locked its little door (not that locking it in had ever stopped it) and called it quits for the night.

It's not like anyone was paying him for the extra hours anyway.

[halotopicecream]

𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲!𝐀𝐭𝐳 𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐅𝐭: Poly!Ateez x fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, crack

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluffy, polyamorous relationship, mention of insomnia

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐨’𝐬 𝐅𝐀𝐐: and hereessssss… my first post on tumblr that I really put thought into! Hurray! I hope whoever reads this has a lovely day/night♡︎

In you morning you don’t even use an alarm… because Jongho will always do you the pleasure of belting whatever song comes to mind to wake you up

When you ask Mingi to grab something off of a high shelf for you, he looks down at you with those big puppy dog eyes and says “you need me?”🥺

Seonghwa took the title of blanket boyfriend because he was always the one to throw himself over you like one

He gets pouty when anyone else does it and takes his well earned position

He gets pouty when anyone else does it and takes his well earned position

Hongjoong had made it a habit to have his hand resting on your knee whenever he sits next to you

You, San and Wooyoung are the official protect Yeosang squad who protect his cuteness and faint when he does something hot

When Yunho catches you staring at his hands he shoves them in your face and pushes you face back and starts singing ‘how you like that’

San went through a vampire phase and to this day he still bites you for no reason

WHEN YOU’RE SAD JONGHO PUTS ON A TEDDY BEAR COSTUME AND LETS YOU CUDDLE HIM FOR HOWEVER LONG YOU WANT

You don’t know what to wear out? Easy, just ask Hongjoong he’s literally already sitting in your room

When you guys play hide and seek Yeosang always hides in your closet. You don’t know why but he always says it’s because it’s so messy no one will look there

But it’s really bc he likes the way you smell

Doesn’t matter what hair type you have, Seonghwa can AND WILL braid your hair

He’ll watch hour long tutorials if he has too

You spend so much time with Yunho when your allergies are acting up he things you gave him your allergies

You two even sneeze in sync… it’s weird

San’s that bf that will sit in a pool with you for hours just so he has an excuse to grab your bikinied ass in public saying he’s ‘holding onto you so you don’t drown’

YOU AND MINGI DO MORNING STRETCHES TOGETHER EVERY MORNING BEFORE THEY LEAVE FOR THE STUDIO🥺

Wooyoung has molded you into being his partner in crime and you cannot get out without him pouting

When Yeosang and Jongho find a book they think you’d like to read with them you all sit in your bed and read it together when you have time🥺

Yeosang blows out your birthday candles if you start taking to long

WHEN HONGJOONG STARTS FEELING POSSESSIVE HE SWITCHES YOU BODY WASH TO HIS SO YOU SMELL LIKE HIM AND ANYONE WHO’S NOT ONE OF YOUR BF’S WILL KNOW YOU’RE HIS

You and Mingi bought a pair of those magnetic rings so instead of holding hands in public you hold each other’s pinkie finger and let the rings stick to each

Yunho always asks for your opinion of his dance to a new choreo so he has always had an honest opinion

Someone once asked if Jongho was your body guard instead did your bf and now he takes great pride in that

You always walk arm in arm with him instead of hand in hand

When any of them are stressed you all get into a big cuddle pile and watch stupid comedy movies to lift their spirits

You and Seonghwa are the breakfast squad

Aka you’re the only ones allowed in the kitchen alone

Wooyoung bumps his hips into yours whenever you bend over so make you stumble, and if you actually fall he starts feeling bad and babies you the rest of the day

When you’re upset with him San will make his eyes go big and bring his voice up a few octaves to make you soft for him again and push his body against yours so you’ll give in and cuddle him

When you got out with Yungi, expect no one to approach you— not with these two mountains next to you

Instead of regular karaoke, you all have a competition to see who can sing the worst

And somehow Jongho always ends up winning

When Hongjoong first saw you he literally almost fell on his face from how pretty you were

And you choked on your yogurt when you first saw him because he was so freaking handsome

When you’re Insomnia decides it wants to rear it’s ugly head, Seonghwa is always there to lull you into a deep sleep and stays with you until you wake up

Wooyoung will do aegyo to make you pay attention to him, don’t think he won’t

You and Yeosang talk shit about anyone and everyone when you go out

Literally all you do is gossip with each other, people started thinking you were planning something when you’d suddenly stop when someone looked over at the two of you

Never go out alone with WooSan… you’ll always end up doing something stupid

And I say that bc the one time you did, you came back home with hair that was three different colors and a heart full of regret

SeongSang is your go two duo for when you wanna have a quiet night in and just watch dramas

Yunho is your literal therapist

He made a certificate and everything with the words ‘Y/n’s therapist’ written across it

Mingi is your ice cream buddy who will always be down to go out and buy ice cream with you whenever you want some

Jongho is your gummy bear, and he gets pouty whenever you give anyone else a nickname that has the word ‘gummy’ or ‘bear’ in them

When people first see you all out in public they think you’re a cult

When the talk of marriage pops up, they all start giving really bad arguments as to why you should take their last name

Seonghwa said because they last name Park just goes good with any name and when people think of play parks they’ll technically bde thinking of you (which was really disturbing)

Hongjoong said because Kim is really classy and it goes with your eyes (which almost made sense if he didn’t say the last part)

Yunho said because having his last name might make you taller (and out of spite you’re not taking his)

Yeosang said because K=Y and Y=you so you should take his (you never thought you’d hear something like that come out of his mouth)

San said because Choi rhymes with Boy and he was your favorite boy (which they all disagreed with and said it was them)

Mingi said because he asked very nicely (and it almost worked)

Wooyoung said because being a Jung made him the Ateez sexy guy and if you took his you could he sexy to (you were offended he didn’t think you were already sexy)

Jongho said because being a Choi made him and San good singers, so if you took his last name you could he a good singer too (you were very offended he didn’t think you were already going at singing)

After that, you just decided to keep your last name

[realcube]

The Maid Café || Saiki K x Reader

summary: nendou and kaidou keep pestering saiki to visit their favourite maid café but he shuts them down every time. however, after a bit of prying they manage to convince him to give the place a try and while they are there, you just so happen to be on shift. 

tw// cussing, maid café, (she/her) reader

key:

“non italicised text” = somebody besides Saiki speaking

“italicised text” = Saiki telepathically communicating

‘italised text’ = Saiki’s thought

‘Of course Nendou and Kaidou would be into maid cafés of all things — not cat cafés, not internet cafés — it just had to be maid cafés.’  

Saiki’s internal monologue began as Kaidou continued gushing on about the cute lady he met at the café a few days ago as an argument to why Saiki should join them next time they go. Not to say Saiki wasn’t listening as he felt extremely sorry for whatever lady had to tolerate Kaidou’s advances and his prayer went out to her but besides that, he really couldn’t care less about the maids or the café. 

Until, his attention was involuntarily aroused at the vocalisation of his name from Nendou, “Saiki’s definitely in for Friday, I’m pretty sure I sold him when I told him that the sandwiches there are almost as good as the ramen we usually get.”

‘No, you didn’t. I won’t be coming to join you on Friday. I’d much rather stay--’ 

Somehow Kaidou managed to cut off Saiki’s internal monologue with his annoying voice, “Don’t be silly, Nendou. You’re not going to win Saiki over with such a ridiculous comparison, one that he clearly doesn’t care about.” 

‘Am I delusional? Is this a hallucination? Or did Kaidou just say something logical and based in reality?’

Kaidou’s aura immediately changed to dark and sinister as a mischievous smirk crossed his face, the background squawks of the crows suddenly became much louder for some unknown reason. “Instead, you must locate your opponent's weak point before you can recognise the crucially important moment to exploit it. The process takes patience but it is one I have learned from my many years rebelling against Dark Reunion. Now, young Nendou, watch and learn.” He finished with a dramatic flip of his school jacket which was slung over his shoulders as a cape.

‘What was all that about?’

Saiki wondered before Kaidou turned to him, much less brooding than he was a few seconds ago, and said casually, “Your loss if you don’t come, Saiki — you’ll be the one missing out on some of the best desserts in our whole town — not to mention the coffee jelly.”

✿✿✿✿✿

‘How do I always end up losing to these people? I am a psychic for god’s sake!’

Saiki mentally cursed himself out as he stood shamefully in front of the maid café, wearing a carefully curated outfit — including his germanium ring  — created especially to hide his identity from anyone from his school that might pass by the café and spot him in there through the window or something. Honestly, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a maid café, or so he thought.

However, all the reviews he read along with both Nendou and Kaidou’s thoughts helped him conclude that this place’s coffee jelly and general dessert selection is nothing to sneeze at. In fact, his favourite Tumblr blog - DeadlyDesserts11037 - visited the place and gave it a 5 star review, recommending everybody who happens to pass by the town to definitely check the place out. After that, he was sold.

Saiki looked over at his friends and couldn’t help but facepalm in response to their bright red, thrilled expressions. “Good grief, please don’t tell me you are both that excited over ladies in maid outfits.” As you might’ve guessed, Saiki didn’t really understand the concept of a ‘maid café’, so he simply assumed the male obsession with maids had something to do with the objectification of women hence he obviously did not want to take part.

“Saiki, you’re seriously just built different if this doesn’t touch your soul.” They both brushed the pink-haired boy’s comment off, completely mesmerised by the sight of a particularly pretty maid-lady walking by the window — probably on her way to serve a table — carrying a notepad in one hand and a plate with a scrumptious-looking coffee jelly on top. 

Saiki followed their gaze, his breath hitching at the sight. He was speechless; no sarcastic comment, no running commentary, nothing. Just..woah! If he had known that the girls that work at this place were so gorgeous and the food looked so delicious, he would’ve came a long time ago.

He wasn’t even sure which one he wanted more; the girl or the jelly. In a way, one wasn’t complete without the other because the coffee jelly which she held high next to her head brought out her (E/C) eyes while her shapely figure highlighted the defined curves of the jelly. Drool was quick to start forming at the corners of his lips but he was even quicker to wipe it away; he was starving.

“We’re going in.”

✿✿✿✿✿

To Saiki’s dismay, it was not the stunning (H/C)-haired girl who he had caught a glimpse of through the glass that ushered them to their table. Rather, it was a slightly less gorgeous maid-lady who had long, bright purple hair which was clearly a wig. 

Fortunately for him, after she left Kadiou, Nendou and himself to take their seats, she rushed off saying that someone will come take their orders whenever they are ready.

Even with his psychic abilities, there wasn’t much he could think of to alter fate so the pretty coffee-jelly lady would end up serving their table, and besides that, he was way too caught up in gawking at all the mouth-watering desserts they had pictured on the menu. 

Simply glancing over the menu brought a stupid grin to his face, he wanted to try every delectable treat presented in front of him. However, he knew he must exhibit restraint, which was fairly simple as he knew deep down there was only one thing on the menu that he was truly after. You guessed it  — coffee jelly.

Usually, he couldn’t care less about what his friends comrades were going to order but in this case, he was tempted to try convince both Kaidou and Nendou to order something he liked so he could take a bite of whatever they were having, “What are you two going to order?”

Yet again though, he was ignored as Nendou and Kaidou were both too busy checking out other types of snacks to care about the ones on the menu. 

Then, a movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention so his head jolted from the menu to his new target, the beautiful girl he had saw through the window earlier. Previously, she was holding a coffee jelly but now she was basically empty handed, until she approached the table and pulled out a notepad and pen, “May I take your orders?” She asked in the most calming, melodious voice Saiki had ever heard, the sounds that left her mouth were nothing short of angelic. Which made sense since her serving their table must’ve been god’s gift to Saiki for all his hard work.

Chills, Saiki got literal chills before he mused, “A coffee jelly, and two brownies for the pair of clowns.” His blood ran cold; curse his smooth sarcastic comments! Most of the time, he was able to filter himself but due to the nerves that arose while talking to you, he probably shouldn’t be surprised that he had a little slip of the tongue. But now, you probably think he is a bitch that insults people on the regular; which he is, but not usually aloud! Plus, he couldn’t even tell what you were thinking due to his germanium ring and your distant expression, awful combo!

While he was in the middle of feeling bad for himself and considering teleporting away home, a miracle happened, you burst out laughing. And somehow, your laughter was even more silvery than your voice. 

Saiki had zoned-out from pure shock for a moment before coming back to reality, noticing that you had started jotting down something in your notepad, a sweet smile still lingering on your face despite the fact you had stopped laughing. “Alright, so one coffee jelly and two brownies. Anything else?” You asked, glancing back and forth between the three equally unique and strange men sitting at the table. 

“That’ll be all, thank you.” Saiki telepathically communicated as he usually did, considering actually using his mouth to speak for a change so he didn’t seem weird but in all honesty, he couldn’t be bothered. In any other situation, he would’ve gotten a drink of water or perhaps hot cocoa but right now he was way too afraid of making another error in his speech to request something else. 

Silently, he extended his arm to hand you the menu he was given when he entered the café, along with the ones Kaidou and Nendou were given too. His actions single-handedly shooting down your plan of leaning across the table to ‘take the menus’ but in reality it is just a subtle way of showing-off how nice your torso looked in this maid outfit, a trick you learned from your supervisor. 

You nodded, closing over your notepad and making your way over to the kitchen, being sure to swing your hips just a little bit extra to impress the pink-haired megane at the table you just took an order from. You mentally cursed your stupid brain though for always crushing on guys/gals who don’t seem the least bit interested in you. In this case, the guy’s attention was divided between his star-struck friends and the desserts on the menu, rather than you which was an unusual sight in a maid café considering that most people would only come to ogle at the waitresses. 

✿✿✿✿✿

“So, Saiki.” Kaidou finally landed back into reality after a large chunk of the waitresses roaming around were now in the kitchen which he didn’t have viewing access to, “What did you order us?”

‘So, he was fully aware that the waitress came to take his order, he just chose to ignore her and left me to order his food. What a child, it must be a side-effect of his eighth grade syndrome.’

Saiki couldn’t help but sigh, “I ordered you both brownies.”

Kaidou stuck out his bottom lip to form a pout as he crossed his arm over his chest like a toddler, “I hate brownies.” He muttered to himself, realising that if he wanted something done right, he’d have to do it himself.

An amused smirk tugged at Saiki’s lips but he resisted the urge to laugh, ‘I know.’ He thought, his masterplan to eat more food without looking greedy falling into place. “Oh well, more for me then.”

Suddenly, Nendou spun his head around to abruptly join the conversation, “Hey guys, did you see the hottie that was serving our table?” He inquired with starry eyes, as if he was a kid in a candy store.

Saiki nodded, ‘Obviously I did, you moron. I was the one who ordered the food for goodness’ sake!’

Kaidou shook his head, his eyes lighting up as he leaned in close to Nendou, “Nope! I was busy looking at the other girls, but tell us!” 

Nendou chuckled at Kaidou’s enthusiastic reaction before glancing to the side, outstretching his arm and pointing at the waitress that was now approaching the table with the food in her hands. “There she is!”

‘Don’t point at her, you idiot!’ Saiki mentally insulted his friend but instinctively followed the guidance of the tip of his finger until his eyes landed on your shapely figure — accentuated by the nature of the maid outfit  — slowly heading toward his table, holding the coffee jelly and the plate of brownies in the same graceful way you did when he saw you through the window. 

The gleam of your gorgeous hair, the movement of your luscious lashes, the gentle bounce of your upper body, how your perfectly manicured nails clutched the base of the jelly glass; everything about what he was seeing made him believe that if/when he were to die, this would be his ideal first sight as he passed through the gates of heaven. 

Before he knew it, you had reached the table and placed his jelly down on the table, gently nudging it towards him, “One coffee jelly for the cute boy with antennas.” You mused, making Saiki’s heart flutter in a way he was unfamiliar with. Then, you placed the brownies in front of Kaidou and Nednou who sat opposite from Saiki, “And two brownies for the clowns.” 

If it wasn’t for the fact the pair of clowns were too busy leching over you in your maid outfit, they’d probably be curious as to your choice of words but luckily for both you and Saiki, they were way to entranced by your visible bra strap to care about the little nickname.

Saiki felt a light blush creep onto his face, which only got worse as you discretely sent him a playful wink before turning on your heels to stroll back to the kitchen, “If you need anything else, just give me a wave.” 

All of them hummed agreement in unison until the waitress was out of sight, giving Saiki a moment to process the events that had just went down. Not only did you refer to him as ‘the cute boy with antennas’ but you also winked at him, if that wasn’t a clear sign you were interested, what was? However, Saiki still had his doubts since this was a maid café after all, perhaps you were just trained to do that with all your customers.

Luckily, the had the foresight to slip off his germanium ring to read your mind and that helped him come to the conclusion that you were either interested in him or you were just very competitive as the whole time you were serving the table your thoughts were along the lines of;

‘I’ll adjust my skirt- Ha! You looked! Try resist falling for me now, you hot lil’ megane! Your heart is mine and I know it! See, I’ll fidget with my corset too-- just make a move already, pinkie!’

Although he didn’t appreciate being called ‘pinkie’, he had no right to judge what was going on in your brain. All he could do is be thankful that you didn’t say that aloud.

✿✿✿✿✿

You sighed as you noticed the pink-haired boy and his little posy exit the establishment without so much as a goodbye, or even a wave! 

It was disappointing as you had already mentally planned your future with this guy and he had the audacity to do the real life equivalent of leaving you on read. But oh well, it would be approximately a week until you developed a crush on a random customer that lasts for around 30 minutes and for the time being, you can focus on doing your job.

You glumly shuffled over to their table to gather their plates to be washed, then a piece of colourful paper attached to the empty jelly glass caught your eye. As you held up the glass to inspect it further, you realised that it was a sticky note with a message written on it in black ink and neat, cursive handwriting. It read:

‘Dearest waitress,

Thank you for the excellent service, we (myself) tipped accordingly.’

You hadn’t finished reading yet but you were curious as to what he meant by that, and apparently you service must’ve been exceptional as the writer had left a whole ¥2000 tip. That’s a huge addition to the demonia fund.  

Followed by this charming little message was an extra tip for you; the writer’s phone number! Meaning that this little sticky note was something you had to protect with your life..so you shoved it in your bra for safe-keeping. 

But not before taking a moment to giggle with delight at who the note was signed by, 

‘Sincerely, the hot lil’ megane (aka Kusuo Saiki)’ 

[toiletwipes]

and i'd give up forever to touch you

chapter eight. saturday, wait.

Summary: Will is waking up and smelling the roses, coming to grip and accepting that you're a huge comfort to him, though you seem to be in the middle of your own silent debacle.

ao3. ~1.7k. masterlist.

---

he wasn’t awake but he wasn’t asleep. in that middle part where it’s a floating feeling, as if you’re being lowered back into your bed after a night of flying dreams. not that he dreamt of flying, most dreams were incoherent and oftentimes, forgotten.

but he comes to as he tunes into the sounds of the waking world. a radio playing in the background, dishes clattering amongst other things, a soft voice humming, and feet shuffling against the wooden floorboards. and rolling in the soft, warm blanket, he finds himself reaching out beside him, looking for something, or someone, as his arm meets an almost cold space. as if someone had been long gone. taking a sniff, he doesn’t recognize the smell on the blankets or pillows and he begrudgingly opens the first eye, twitching till both of them are open fully.

it’s your bedroom, and the light is peaking in through the corner but your door is closed, as if someone had closed it after leaving him alone.

closing his eyes, he takes the moment to just cherish the way his bones melt in your mattress, sinking into the welcomed feeling.

and as the moment slows down and time seems to stop, he hears the front door slam and rosie’s voice echoing against the walls. “you won’t believe the shit that i had to go through this morning, guys.” guys? his curiosity peaked and then, as he looked the camera on your dresser in the eye and then the one tucked by the clutter in the corner, he decides he has to get up.

it was just the three of them when they got home- when they got here, wasn’t it? they hadn’t picked anyone else up, you were exhausted by the time you two entered the dorm.

had rosie invited someone over in the time you were gone? or, seeing as she just arrived, had she invited someone before she left? questions running through his head without so much as an answer for any of them, he tries to leave your bed before he’s shackled to the damn mattress with doubt.

tripping over his own shoes, he fumbles with getting a hold on anything before breathing heavily, and attempting to control it.

when he feels like he’s failed, he kicks the shoes away from him and out of the way, feet scuffling against the floor as he pulls the door open slowly, as if he didn’t want to be discovered leaving the room.

also failed at that.

“morning, will, you’re just in time for breakfast!” you cut off whatever rosie was ranting about, smiling at him as you wash some dishes from cooking whatever it was. seemed to be eggs and sausage and the bag of questionables rosie was holding in her tight hold, anger unknowingly festering.

rosie absently pulls out a chair next to him and waves him a hello.

he wants to tell his heart not to go wild at her actions but it’s already racing ahead, sitting himself next to the one girl he wants and tries to pay attention. and then someone sneezes behind him.

twisting his neck, he finds jared from the other day, curled under the thinnest blanket they had available, and his hair fashionably disheveled. not unlike how most actors wake up in a movie, he notes, as he turns back around with a wave of his own, acknowledging him.

jared. when did he get here?

“-so i’m telling this woman, who by the way has a tattoo of that baby from cloudy with a chance of meatballs on her wrist, you can’t just eat in here, this is the dressing room. and she has the audacity to tell me i’m not an employee so i don’t “have any authority” well, you should’ve seen her face when i brought the manager back there. they almost called the police because she was refusing to stop eating there. you should’ve seen it.” rosie finishes her story up as you begin to serve everyone, saving yourself for last as you lean against the counter, watching the two seated with careful eyes.

will swallows the first bite down with relative ease, and so do the bites that follow, eyes taking glances to rosie, who’s looking at her phone. and when he finishes, he moves to go wash it, ending up next to you, and you, you’re not even bothered, shoving an elbow in between his ribs as you give me a playful smile.

“hey, jared, don’t forget, we have to go pick up your mother!” rosie turns around to remind said college student, who groans and turns to smush his face into the couch, as if the couch absorbing him will save him from such a horror.

“why did she have to come visit now? it’s been barely a month!” will blinks, has it really? he turns to you as if asking you will confirm it, but you seem just as taken aback. both of you seemed to have lost time, but rosie seems confident in her time.

“yes, now get ready, i won’t wait for you, i do have to stream today,” she tells him as she swings off the seat, grabbing one of his surprisingly toned arms, and yanking on it.

he immediately whines, rubbing at his shoulder as he tried to bat her away, but she’s getting him on his feet, pushing him towards her room as she rolled her eyes. grabbing her keys, she tossed a hand up, waving as she passed them by, “i’ll be right back.”

silence sits for a few minutes as you two process what happened. and then he feels a burning gaze he doesn’t know if he wants to meet.

will swallows down something, not any of the egg or sausage, and turns to your prodding eyes, almost as if you’re looking for something inside of him, not particularly at him.

then pulling back, and turning around to wash your own dish, you bite your lips as if you mean to say something. but you end up putting your dish up and then turn to him with a smile he didn’t recognize, asking him if he didn’t mind doing homework with you.

and, well, he was in the same boat, but he didn’t exactly have his computer.

“my, my uh laptop is back at home, but otherwise i wouldn’t mind!” he answers, mind too scrambled from rosie next to him that he doesn’t know if they make any sense, and you nod.

“did you want to pick it up or did you want to be dropped off, or we could also go somewhere else entirely, just- it’s too early for me to make decisions,” you smile as you walk over to the couch, slipping some slippers on as he almost follows you, brain still ticking at a slow speed.

but he ends up making a decision, and as much as it’s a bad one, he can’t help but want to be back in his home and you make it yours like you’ve done everywhere you’ve been.

rubbing his palms as he thinks on it make him realize how sweaty they’ve gotten, so he pats them on his pants as he begins to speak, “well- what if we did our work at my place? i mean it would be much easier to do so, don’t you think?” he says, as if you were planning to decline his kind offer.

it lifts the edges of your eyes in your smile a little as you accept, moving past him with a mumbled sorry as you head back to your room, pulling out a backpack from behind the door. you grin as he gets his shoes, and as you two descend the stairs, you pass rosie and he notices the distinct smell on her and the smile she gives you two is different from the one five minutes ago.

“without me?” you joke as you call from the bottom of the second floor and she only laughs, and he knows. after all, it wasn’t that unfamiliar of a smell.

and then you’re running down the steps to the bottom floor and happily striding to your car, unlocking it and giving him a sliver of your smile, of your happiness.

though you don't see it getting in the car, he smiles to himself.

“to your apartment?” you say as you tuck your backpack in the back seat and he nods, leaning into the seat as you peeled out of the lot, turning the radio on as the sun slowly makes its way up into the sky.

the time passes by fast enough that he finds himself wondering if he had any trash in there as he was unlocking the door. it turns out not that dirty and you immediately sit yourself on the couch, pulling out your computer and asking for the wifi password.

and getting his laptop was the easy part. it’s taking the seat beside you, angling his body sideways as his laptop sits on his lap, unsure what will happen. he had closed it on the footage of you. with the sound on.

trying to breathe a regular amount, he opens it and immediately hits the mute button, watching as the screen lights up with the mute on and the image of your bedroom with rumpled blankets on them. just how you left them.

exiting the program, he pulls his classes up and internally screams at how much his professors hate him. and the time slips you two, typing fills the room and when it hits noon and you put your computer to the side, you ask where the bathroom is.

the real mess is in his room and he wonders if it's too much to ask to drive you to piss elsewhere, and that’s when he abandons all thoughts and just leads you through his bedroom, apologizing for the mess, and thanking whoever is in charge that it wasn’t as bad as he remembered.

sitting on his bed with his hands in his pockets, he wonders how much longer he’ll be glued to his computer till the workload diminishes completely when you open the door. you wipe your wet hands on the cloth on the sink counter when you turn completely to him.

“hey, will, can i ask you something?” you speak, and though you sound out of the blue, like you didn’t know that you were speaking yourself until you heard your voice, he nods, watching you and feeling like nothing bad could happen right now.

you were probably going to say that you’ve clogged the toilet with a huge shit, or something-

“do you like rosie?”

holy shit.

...

taglist: @fxnxtical @ghostburlovebot @ollie-overscore @marinaloveswomen @roygbivvie @beehive-syst3m @boiled-onionrings @mayempress @bringm3th3n1rvana @yui-san0 @comonlokbut2 @lurkey-lurker

[apollo-zero-one]

I have only been a regular at one place ever and it was the coffee shop next door to the pizza place I worked at, and I popped in during the first slow period of the day which was around the same time, to grab coffee for myself and whoever else in the pizza place wanted some. I always got a medium vanilla almond milk latte with I forget the name but some taurine additive, and then whatever else for my coworkers, and it got to the point where I would come in, they would hand me my latte at the first counter and ask what else I was grabbing, and then I got to sip my favorite drink while waiting on the others. It was so nice and actually made me way *less* socially anxious, at first I was worried my order was too complicated and I was being annoying by telling them every day that I needed it to be almond milk (the second day I ever went they accidentally used regular milk, which my guts suffered for, and I very anxiously told them the next day that the whoopsie had happened and I do need it to be a lactose free drink, and they were very nice about it and apologized for mishearing me, but I still was anxious for hours before and after the 'confrontation'), but once they knew me? Knew my order so I didn't have to ever explain it? Even had it ready for me right away? It removed so much of the parts of the social interaction that made it hard. On a couple of the days when my coworkers didn't want anything, I'd come in to get my coffee and when I said I didn't need any others, they said I could just have it for free! And on those days I'd put a few extra dollars in the tip jar and thank them and it felt so nice.

I also have had bus drivers get familiar with my schedules and routines, who would greet me by name as I got on and warn me if my favorite seat was taken, and who would let me off at a street that wasn't an official stop because they knew it was closer to where I was going and they wanted to save me the walk. One time one bus driver who I was friendly with even gave me a wad of change cards that paid my bus fare for two weeks! It was awesome! And once bus drivers know you're well behaved and regular, they also tend to smile at you and quietly comp your fare every now and then.

I love being seen and known, I love feeling like I'm a reliable part of other people's lives in the way they are for me. I know I will always see the same few baristas and the same couple bus drivers and I know how they talk and joke and they know what I want and we are familiar with each other. And it makes everything easier, to not have to explain myself. It *does* make social mistakes feel worse though, like if I don't know that person I don't care that they saw me being weird, but when my regular bus driver saw me have a big wet sneeze into my sleeve and then panic because it was very wet and I only had dirty napkins crumpled up in my backpack but I was trying to mop it up off my face and sleeve with those anyway.... That was mortifying because then I knew I had to continue seeing that bus driver every day and he had seen me mopping up snot with dirty napkins. And would not have been as bad if I never had to see him again.

Starving to death this morning because ive been to the new local cafe twice this week already and if i go a third time ill look desperate.

[suddencolds]

Untrustworthy | Genshin Impact

This is a 3k word commission for anon! (I admittedly wrote over the commissioned word count).

Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your kind message 😭This fic was surprisingly very challenging to write, so I’m sorry for the wait; I hope you enjoy! 

Requested prompt: 

I want Diluc completely miserable with a cold. As much mess as you're ok with. Still trying to function. Until Kaeya can't stand watching anymore and inserts himself as caregiver.

—

It’s subtle at first. Diluc turns away from making a drink to cough tightly into an elbow. Diluc’s gaze pulls uneven as he ducks forward with a barely stifled sneeze into a handkerchief he’s been keeping in his coat pocket. Diluc—when he thinks no one is watching—leans a bit too heavily against the countertop, bracing himself with one arm, and lifts the other hand to massage his temples. as if he’s attempting to drive away a headache that he’s had all afternoon.

It would be unnoticeable, except Kaeya pays more attention than people give him credit for. It would be unnoticeable, except Kaeya is aware that a cold has been making its rounds through the Knights, many of which frequent the tavern—one severe enough to prompt Jean to actually take a sick day, for once, one that seems especially severe this winter and—judging by the absences in his ranks this last week—difficult to avoid.

Diluc doesn’t fall ill often, Kaeya knows. Even now he barely looks unwell, save for the faint flush of his cheeks, the exhaustion disrupting his usually-perfect posture, the sneezes that he keeps stifling into almost-silence.

Either he’s at the start of his cold—before it’s had a chance to get really bad—or he’s putting in an inordinate amount of effort to hide it.

Kaeya suspects it might be both.

“Master Diluc,” he says, when Diluc conveniently stops by one of the tables next to him with drinks. “When does your shift end?”

Diluc’s shoulders stiffen, though he doesn’t turn around to address Kaeya properly. “Three hours from now.” he says, frowning. “if you intend to involve me in one of your late-night arrangements…”

“Oh? Not this time,“ Kaeya says. He lifts his wine to take a sip. “Even if I were, I think perhaps I would have reconsidered.”

“And why is that?”

Diluc says it flatly—unaffectedly—but he only has the luxury of keeping up that act for a few seconds before he’s ducking into his shoulder with a perfectly silenced stifle. It’s such a seamless performance, neatly contained and expertly quiet—really, Kaeya deems himself unworthy.

“Bless you,” he says, though Diluc scoffs, swipes the empty glasses from the table he’s serving, and starts off toward his usual spot behind the counter. “I do hope you are not falling ill, master Diluc.”

Diluc sets the glasses down on the countertop, diligently averting his glance. “I’m fine.”

“Is that so?” At Diluc’s silence, he presses on. “Perhaps you should close up early, just in case. You look like you could use some rest.”

“No need,” Diluc says. “It’s just— “Hiih… hiIIH-nGK-t! Hiih… HIiIH…-!!.... hiIIh-GKt!” The sneezes snap him forward, his shoulders trembling with the motion. He straightens with an almost imperceptible shiver. “—just dust, snf. Perhaps the Knights would be more efficient if you put more time into work instead of investigating less…” Diluc looks to him at last, his jaw tightly set. “...pressing matters.”

“Ah.” Kaeya laughs. “So eager to get rid of me?”

“Your concern is unnecessary. I already intend to close up earlier than usual.”

That’s surprising, to say the least—Diluc usually never cancels plans to suit himself. “So you really aren’t feeling well,” Kaeya says, suddenly worried. If it’s so bad that even Diluc is closing up early...

He must not be doing a good job keeping the concern off his face, because Diluc just scoffs dismissively, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not that.” He coughs softly into his raised elbow. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Hmm, to think you said no late night excursions...”

“There’s a banquet tomorrow that I’m expected to attend.”

And yet he won't be closing up for another few hours. And yet he’s here, with the start of a cold, looking exhausted and unwell, and still—for reasons Kaeya can’t fathom—he intends to work late into the night and then spend the entire day tomorrow at some pretentious social event. Kaeya knows that having to entertain strangers is exhausting to Diluc even on regular occasions. He also knows that whatever Diluc is coming down with is unlikely to resolve itself in just a night’s rest.

“For the winery?” he asks. “My, such impressive dedication to the business… surely you can send Elzer on your behalf?”

Diluc’s shoulders tense in a way that suggests that he is as reluctant about attending as Kaeya expected. “I can’t. The host requested my presence.”

“At the very least,” Kaeya says, “You should close up a bit earlier.” He glances over his shoulder to peer through the first floor windows. It’s dark outside—too dark to come to any conclusions, but earlier today, the sky had been too heavy, the air prickling with humidity, the clouds overhead sprawling and dark. “It wouldn’t do you any good to get caught up in the rain.”

“The rain is of no consequence to me,” Diluc says, in the kind of tone that suggests that he doesn’t intend to close up early at all.

“Even with a cold?” “I don’t have a cold.”

Kaeya shrugs.  “Well, if you’re certain.” He pushes his mug forward so that it rests on the countertop, right within Diluc’s reach, and counts the mora out beside it. “Goodnight, Diluc.”

He turns on his heels. Years ago, he might’ve stayed longer. He might’ve insisted for Diluc to take care of himself and not left his side until he had.

But it’s been years. Diluc left, and Kaeya tried to muster up the pieces of himself that had existed independent of him—he’d taught himself how to lie, tricked himself into believing that the person he’d trusted most hadn’t left him—and now even though Diluc is back, sometimes it feels as if Kaeya barely knows him at all.

If Diluc won’t take care of himself, then that’s his prerogative. It’s stopped being Kaeya’s problem a long time ago.

—

Kaeya has every intention of leaving Diluc alone.

That is, until he’s at the Knights’ headquarters, listening in on a conversation that he doesn’t quite mean to eavesdrop on but hasn’t gone out of his way not to avoid.

“He keeps taking our work,” one of the Knights says. “It’s awful. Last time we spent all our time finding this one domain—Fatui territory, alright? We had a whole expedition team ready to scout out the domain the next day. Then the next day, we get there and the place is abandoned. Everything’s been scorched. Must’ve been a pyro user.” “How do you know it was him?”

“Trust me, you’d know. How many pyro visions are there in Teyvat? It’s like the legends say. He doesn’t leave any room unturned. He’s more thorough than a team of our men put together.”

“Gentlemen,” Kaeya says loudly, smiling when they startle and turn to look at him in synchronicity. “What are you talking about?”

“The Darknight Hero,” one of the knights offers haltingly. “Last night he took down one of the Fatui strongholds we were planning to deal with. Talk about an annoyance, huh?”

“Oh? How heroic. It seems he lives up to his title,” Kaeya says. His mind is reeling. Diluc? But last night, Diluc had been working late. He’d gone home right after, hadn’t he? It wouldn’t make sense for him to be out last night. Unless, of course...

He would really, really like to believe that Diluc’s self-preservation instincts are better than that.

“I’ve been saying,” says another knight. “We were supposed to be scouting out the area right now. Chances are, there will be nothing left there that’s of any use to us.”

“Seeing as we have nothing to do today,” the first knight says, his expression hardening, “maybe we can conduct a search party for the Darknight Hero instead. See what he has to say about withholding information from the Knights.”

“Let’s not be too hasty here,” Kaeya cuts in, before the other Knights have a chance to offer their assent. “It’s unlikely that the Darknight Hero would be out during the day, isn’t it? Rest assured, I’ll make sure that it’s looked into. In the meantime, have you asked the Acting Grandmaster for a new assignment?”

The knight in question falters. “No, but…”

Kaeya smiles pointedly at him—the kind of vicious smile that, around knights and strangers alike, never fails to intimidate. “Then perhaps you should get to it, don’t you think?”

He waits until he’s sure they’ll be busy with something else. Maybe they’re mistaken. Maybe Diluc had gone to scout out the area on some previous occasion, and the Knights are only now paying witness to his usual efficiency.

Or maybe Diluc has forgone a night of rest in lieu of playing hero to Mondstadt in the pouring rain. And now he’s at a banquet somewhere, with a miserable cold that he’s most likely intent on telling himself he doesn’t have.

It’s been awhile since Kaeya’s been to a banquet. He misses the alcohol, the music, the extravagant decorations. It’s easy enough to tell himself that that’s the reason why he’s going.

—

It’s not difficult to get in. Kaeya is well-acquainted with having to sweet talk his way into lowering someone’s defenses.

Inside the banquet hall, it’s crowded. It is as pretentious a setup as it gets—visitors wearing suits and ballroom gowns, walls adorned with streamers and gold plaques, tables laid out with refreshments of all sorts. The building it’s being held in has at least two floors and too many side rooms to count.

He spots Diluc from across the room—red hair is rare enough that he’s not easy to miss. Diluc is currently engaging in conversation with someone Kaeya hasn’t seen before.

It’s likely that Diluc has found the person who explicitly requested his presence—probably someone with a business deal that he thinks warrants a personal talk with the owner of Dawn Winery. If Kaeya interrupts Diluc while he’s negotiating some sort of once-in-a-lifetime deal, Diluc will never let him live it down. So instead, he grabs a drink as an excuse to get closer and stands a few tables away to listen in.

Up close, Diluc’s cold is practically impossible to miss. His clothes look freshly ironed, but his hair is still damp at the tips—he’s changed into dry clothes, then, but his wet hair seems to only confirm the hypothesis that he was, in fact, scouting out domains last night in the rain instead of getting a wink of sleep. Diluc has always been pale, but now there’s a flush high on his cheeks that Kaeya thinks could only be a result of an impending fever. He is standing with his arms crossed—a last attempt to keep warm, perhaps—with a handkerchief gripped loosely in one hand. Faint shivers break the line of his shoulders.

Kaeya feels a pang in his chest. Diluc looks…

Kaeya watches as Diluc twists away with a soft apology and a wrenching sneeze that snaps him forward at the waist.

...miserable.

“That was merely my expectation,” the man says. “Crepus and I were business partners, do you know that? You don’t seem like the type of person who would choose this profession. I am sure your priorities lie elsewhere.”

Diluc clears his throat. “I have no qualms against upholding the family business.” His voice—though usually smooth and mellifluous—has taken on a rough edge to it, as if from overuse.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise,” the man says. “I am sure you’re aware of your options, no? You could make a fortune selling off the winery if you so desired.”

“If you are...” Diluc starts, though his sentence is punctuated by a soft, desperate gasp, and he turns away just in time, ducking into his handkerchief. “hiIh…. Hiih… hiih’GKt—CHhiiew! Snf-!” His eyes stay shut in anticipation, the grip tightening around the handkerchief as his shoulders jerk with another sharp intake of breath.  “Hiih… Hiiih… Iiih’DZsshh-iu! haAHH’iIKTch-iIIew!” he sniffles wetly, barely suppressing a violent shiver.

“If you are here to gauge whether or not I intend to sell the winery, I can assure you that I do not,” he says, quieter than usual.

“Ah, of course, just a question.” The man leans forward, lowers his voice. “Truthfully, I am more interested in a partnership. It’s come to my attention that you have an excess of wine sitting in the winery’s cellars. If you can get me the amount of Dandelion Wine I need at a discounted price, I can sell it down in Liyue for a profit.”

“I have no interest in expanding the business any further,” Diluc says. “The excess will sell out easily in the spring when demand rises for Windblume.”

“I urge you to give it some consideration. Dandelion Wine is a specialty to Mondstadt. Think about the profitability of expanding to somewhere where dandelions are hard to come by,“ the man says. “You could stand to double or even triple the prices per bottle. I am only asking to take a fraction of your stock, see? Ten percent would be enough.”

He says it as if ten percent isn’t anything substantial, but Kaeya can’t help but think that there’s something wrong here—both with the presentation of the offer and with its suddenness. From here, Diluc’s expression is unreadable—it betrays only slight discomfort when he turns to the side, muffling harsh, forceful coughs into his suit sleeve, and murmurs a reflexive apology. No hesitation—not the slightest hint of wariness—even though the Diluc Kaeya remembers wouldn’t agree to raising prices so drastically without good reason.

“I can handle all transportation and deliver the profits to you in a few months,” the man presses on, interpreting Diluc’s untelling silence as interest. “My associates have done research on the market in Liyue and where it would be best to sell. You wouldn’t have to do anything differently from your end. All that I ask is for you to trust me with the first shipment and compensate me fairly after I handle the marketing and transportation.”

Diluc sniffles. “Forgive me,” he says, bracing himself with one hand against the table behind him as he ducks forward violently into a raised arm.  “hiIh’nGKT-chhiEW! HIih… I do n-not… hhH… Hiih-! hiIH’iiikT-CHhiew! Sdf-! Ugh… hiIIH’NGKT-CHhiew!” He leans slightly into his side, and though the gesture is well-disguised, Kaeya can tell just how much he’s bracing his weight on the table. It’s concerning, to say the least. Is he really too tired to stand upright? “...I do not expect to give out so much wine without a proper assessment of the risk. If you believe the model to be profitable, you are free to… t-to… hh-! to purchase…. hiIH… haAA’iiKTT-CHh!-u! hiIh’iiiTSSHhh’uh! snf-!” The congestion in his voice is evident in all of his consonants, and his gaze flickers down to his handkerchief in unspoken desperation, though Kaeya suspects he’s too polite to blow his nose in front of a business partner.

“...You are free to purchase wine at the same rate as I offer other corporate partners. I cannot - coughcough - I cannot offer such a large first-time shipment for free based on only an assumption that it will be successful.”

Kaeya can see the exact moment the smugness drops off of the man’s face. His eyes harden at Diluc’s hesitation, his practiced smile shifting into the approximation of a sneer.

“An assumption? You don’t trust my ability to see the operation through to the end?” He says, still in the same polite, haughty tone of his. “As a long-time associate of your father, I would have thought I would have earned your trust as well. Unless, of course, you simply don’t agree with Crepus’s assessments?”

Kaeya can see the way Diluc’s jaw tightens at the query. He clears his throat softly, though the brief wince that follows suggests that the action is far from painless.  

“His vision for the company is - snf - very important to me,” he says simply.

The man waves a flippant hand. “Or perhaps once he left, you decided you knew better? I mean, you have grown up so much, so I’m sure you feel more than capable of handling his affairs, regardless of whether or not you’re doing it his way. I don’t blame you.”

As the man turns around to pour himself a drink, Kaeya sees a flash of blue and gold tucked into his suit pocket. It takes him another moment to realize what it is.

A Fatui sergeant’s insignia—for identification purposes, or just a habit, likely.

This man isn’t a business partner of Crepus’s at all.

Now, the man wheels around, holding one drink in each hand. Alcohol, clearly—though it sparkles, faintly red. “Ah, well. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but your decisions are understandable. A friend of mine has been working on a drink that mixes certain Liyuen specialties and Dandelion Wine—would you give it a try?”

“I don’t drink,” Diluc says haltingly.

“Just a sip wouldn’t hurt,” the man says, raising an eyebrow. “If you are anything like Crepus, you must have developed quite the refined taste when it comes to wine. Perhaps you could speak for the quality?”

“I’m sorry,” Diluc says quietly. “I am… Hiih… f-feeling… hH…. hiIih’iIKT-chHIew! Sdf!... slightly under the weather.” Kaeya blinks at him, disbelieving. Such an outright admission is practically unheard of, when it comes to Diluc—but then again, it’s a convenient excuse, and Kaeya is not under the impression that he really knows him. Diluc lifts a hand to his face, sniffling hard. “I’m afraid I would not be able to taste it.”

“You state the obvious,” the man drawls, and Diluc’s shoulders hunch slightly as he turns his face away, his cheeks reddening slightly. “Actually, that’s one of the reasons why I recommended this drink. It’s made with Jueyun chilis. Should be good for clearing up a cold.”

“Is that so?” Diluc says, still frowning.

“Perhaps you could speak to its efficacy?”

Slowly—hesitantly—Diluc lifts the glass. The man watches him like a hawk—too eagerly, if anything. Kaeya presumes that he either wants Diluc poisoned or too intoxicated not to be swayed, and hauling home a Diluc who can’t hold his own sounds like more than he’s signed up for, so now would be a good time to interfere. Diluc can be mad at him later.

Kaeya, for all he’s attempted over the years, has plenty of practice making his entrances as obnoxiously showy as possible.

“My, my,” he says, striding in with a drink in hand to settle right next to Diluc. “The esteemed owner of the Dawn Winery.” Just for the way Diluc grimaces at the title, his eyebrows furrowing, he decides this intervention has been worth it. “And… who’s this?”

Diluc veers away from Kaeya to stifle—a soft, near-silent stifle that must be exhausting to suppress.

“A business partner,” the man answers through gritted teeth.

“Must be a busy job,” Kaeya says, snatching Diluc’s drink out of his hand and setting it down on the table behind him. “Given, of course, that you have two.” He takes an efficient step forward and swipes the insignia out of the so-called business partner’s pocket.

“I do wonder why the Fatui would be so interested in the Dawn Winery,” he says calmly, ignoring the man’s indignant yelp of protest. He turns the insignia over in his hands, contemplative. “Did you really think the owner of the largest wine business in Mondstadt would be so easy to scam?”

The sergeant swears. “You asshole—!”

Kaeya reaches for the sword tucked into his belt. He knows it wouldn’t be a fair fight, seeing that the man seems very much unarmed, but it’s as good as anything as a threat. “I don’t suppose you’ll try this again?” he says. “I can’t claim to be the best swordsman in Mondstadt—that title goes to the previous cavalry captain, but maybe tonight I can come in second.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh? Do you want to find out if I am?”

“No,” the agent says. “I wasn’t finished having my conversation.”

“Well, what a shame.” Kaeya doesn’t wait for him to think of a response. He takes Diluc’s arm and turns abruptly to haul Diluc towards the exit.

Diluc goes along easily enough. It’s only when they get outside that the frustration—from watching Diluc push himself, stubbornly, to this extent—boils over.

“Diluc,” he says, turning on his heels. “Really? After a late night shift at the tavern, your first thought was to forgo rest to spend all night scouting out a Fatui domain? In the rain, for that matter?”

Diluc turns away, his expression unchanging. “That’s not worth mentioning.”

“Perhaps you’d claim that attending a banquet directly afterwards is not worth mentioning, either? Your hair’s still wet. And that encounter with the Fatui sergeant—what’s gotten into you? Since when have you been so careless?”

He’s almost certain Diluc can hear the unspoken accusation behind it. This isn’t like you. Diluc is hasty—he has a tendency to overestimate himself and involve himself in situations he knows will be dangerous—but he isn’t careless.

“—I knew he wasn’t one of Crepus’s associates.” Diluc explains, with a soft, liquid sniffle. He turns away, lifting an arm to his face. “I would’ve - hhihH-!! - snf, I would’ve recognized him if he were, sdf.” his eyes drift shut; he buries his face into his suit sleeve, sniffling. “Crepus made it a point to… hiIh…-! hIIIh… to introduce him to everyone he - HIiIIih… sdf-!! ...Everyone he worked closely with.”

“Is that so?” Kaeya says, but it’s not enough. “Then why did you entertain him?”

Diluc is quiet for a moment. When Kaeya looks over, it’s to a dazed, bleary expression before he ducks harshly into his raised elbow with a forceful, “hiIh’nNGKT-chHIEw! hiIH’IITCHh-chhUU!! Snf-!”

He doesn’t lift his elbow from his face. “I w-wanted… snf-! more -  hiIh-!...information,” he says. “If I were to know more about what he was planning, it would make it easier for me to find any fraudulent - hiIih-!! Snf-! - transactions in the company’s history if I knew what to - hIih-hiIh’iIKTch-IIiu! Excuse me… snf-! -to look for.”

“Bless you. There are better ways to do that,” Kaeya says. “No need to do it when you’re evidently unwell.”

Diluc peeks out from behind his arm, which he still hasn’t lowered from his face. His face is flushed up to his ears—easy enough to dismiss as fever, though Kaeya knows that’s not all there is to it.

Diluc has always been embarrassed about admitting weakness. Kaeya sighs, fishes through his own pockets for a spare handkerchief.

“I have to say, Diluc,” he says, holding out the handkerchief — which Diluc accepts hurriedly, turning away to clean up whatever mess he’s made of his sleeve - “My weekends would be much less eventful -”

“hiiihh’GKTTt-CHh’yyew! snf-!”

“- if I could trust you to look after yourself,” Kaeya finishes, raising an eyebrow. “Bless you, by the way.”

“I know my limits,” Diluc says.

Kaeya huffs a sigh. “But you don’t honor them, do you?”

Diluc frowns, looking away. “I would have been fine if you hadn’t showed up.”

Kaeya stares at him. It’s half in disbelief, half in exasperation—but Diluc has always been like this, hasn’t he? Insistent on his own self-sufficiency. Hesitant to admit he might, in any way, be infallible.

I would’ve been fine.

“You always are,” he says finally, with a smile that he doesn’t mean.

If Diluc so diligently insists on refusing his help, perhaps Kaeya should take a hint. Mondstadt is a half hour away—less, if he hurries. He quickens his pace. It’s fortunate, he thinks, that the rain stopped early this morning, after—

Diluc grabs his arm.

Kaeya wheels around, suddenly worried that Diluc might be feeling much worse than he’d let on, but Diluc’s expression betrays nothing as he lowers his hand to his side.

“Thank you,” he says—a soft, private admission.

Kaeya clears his throat, waves a dismissive hand. “I assure you, I have plenty more handkerchiefs.”

“No,” Diluc says quietly, looking away. “Not just for that.”

[floofs-headcanons]

Hello hello! Both of your have such awesome writing! I had so much fun reading the headcanons and scenarios of the bodyguard AU! Could I request either college AU or a soulmate AU or your choosing for Zoro? Whatever you feel like writing! Thank you!!

College & Soulmate AU; Scenario

Character; Zoro

Word Count; 1,718

Thank you so much, we’re glad you liked it !! But no, but let me tell you how we screamed at each other for literally half an hour when we saw this request. There were too many good soulmate AUs we ended up using a generator aksjdhas.

The first time you and your soulmate touch you get stuck together for a while.

December is when you find him sleeping on campus grounds. He’s resting on one of the outdoor tables, book open, with arms covering the pages. Snow is falling, and you’re cold even with a heavy fur coat and umbrella keeping the white specs from melting into your hair.

You’re not sure if you should wake him up despite the fact that he was wearing nothing other than a T-shirt and some jeans, but he doesn’t seem very bothered. Well, that is until he sneezes. It’s followed by some incoherent grumbling and nearly scares the shit out of you, but it’s enough for you to decide to help.

“Hey,” you poke his cheek with the butt of your umbrella, not too fond of touching strangers. “Hey!”

He doesn’t stir, and you’re left wondering if anyone else has tried to help him before you showed up and ended up leaving it be because he wouldn’t budge.

Still, you couldn’t leave him here in this type of temperature; so you decide to leave your umbrella behind. It’s long enough to lean against the table and shield him from the ever piling snow without directly touching any part of his body and possibly bothering his rest- not that you think it would. He didn’t flinch even when you yelled at him.

December is when you’re working at Shakky’s bar late into the night to pay off your college tuition.

Those loans wouldn’t pay themselves after all and the salary was good. 

The company at the bar itself was interesting to say the least. You could never truly say you had a dull night while working there. Be it the slurring drunks and their awful attempts at pickup lines, to the terribly sobering tales that would be shared across the counter; it was an eye opening experience. 

Tonight would be much like any other- at least, that’s what you had thought until a familiar man comes through the door. 

He seemed well- that was good. You didn’t give it too much thought, after all, you were on the clock and this was a rather popular bar for the student body to frequent. From the way Shakky greets him, he must’ve been a regular long before you had begun working here.

Setting down the glass you had been mindlessly polishing, your attention is drawn towards a customer sitting near the back of the bar. He’s a bit louder than the other customers, but you were pretty used to that. Eustass Kid came in all the time and drank until he either passed out or his blonde haired friend carried him out forcefully. At the very least he wasn’t bothering anybody.

“Excuse me,” the green haired man raises a hand, successfully catching your attention. It seems he was done talking to Shakky by now.

“Yes?” You make your way over, an award-winning customer service smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “What can I get for you?”

He ends up getting a few, maybe more than a few, beers. This man sure could drink.

December is when your car decides it needs its own break from the cold winter snow. It thankfully doesn’t break down anywhere too traffic heavy, and there’s an auto-repair shop not even five minutes away.

“Oh, hello,” you greet, surprised to see a familiar face working here. He’s wearing a tank-top and some slacks, and this time you think the attire is appropriate given how much he was sweating.

The owner, Franky, had more than generously came to pick up your mobile and gave you a ride along the way, saying it would be done the same day. I have a reliable repairman, he said more than just a bit too loudly for comfort.

The male glances up at you for a second before going back to finish up on the vehicle he was already occupied with. “Hey, there.” You’re not too sure if he recognizes you- it’s a hard to not recognize him- but that’s fine, you just needed your car fixed.

It doesn’t take him very long to finish up on his current project before moving onto yours. He thankfully doesn’t ask any questions, it seems like the owner had already filled him in, and just starts working.

“You know,” he spares you a glance, picking up another tool. “He said it’d be done the same day but it’s still gonna take a few hours. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Unfortunately not,” you sigh. The only plans you had were to go back home and take a long, long nap, but there was no way you were going to walk back in this type of weather. For a while, you’re standing around a little awkwardly, fiddling with the fluffs of your sleeves before he speaks up.

“If you want you could sit inside where it’s warmer. There’s a TV and some magazines you could read to keep you occupied.” You debate that for a bit, looking through the glass door to the waiting area, but ultimately decide to stick around for a bit longer.

“It’s fine,” you say with a smile. You could wait inside later, for now you’d want to wander a bit. It’s not every day you’d get to go to an auto-repair shop and you’ve always been a bit curious with how often Kid yells about it in the bar. “Would it be alright if I take a look around?”

He gives a grunt of approval and you make yourself comfortable, roaming the workshop. It’s quite big, and you hadn’t noticed ‘til now that the walls were painted in vibrant blues, red, and yellow. It matched the owner’s eccentric personality.

“Oh,” a stand hidden to the back of the shop catches your attention; a lone umbrella resting on its handles. Yours- to be more precise. “You use an umbrella during snow time?” You hadn’t bothered to ask for it back, the thought never really occurred to you. Considering they weren’t that expensive buying a new one wouldn’t be much of a hassle. If anything, you were more surprised he’s kept it around.

The male clears his throat, stopping whatever it was he was doing to your car and wipes his hands down with a towel. “Actually,” he admits sheepishly, “I’ve been meaning to return it to you. I just kept forgetting.”

You raise a brow, “You knew it was mine?”

“I’ve seen you use it around campus before,” he admits. “Not a lot of people use an umbrella while it’s snowing, and the color’s pretty vibrant so it’s hard to not notice. I had wanted to give it to you when I visited the bar, but you were constantly busying yourself so I never got the chance.”

A chuckle escapes your lips at his little confession. He seemed like such an intimidating guy, with the furrowed brows and scar over his eye, but he was a lot more awkward than one would expect. “Well,” you catch his attention. “I’m working there again tomorrow night if you want to come give it to me in person.” December is when you’re sparing hopeful glances at the door every time the bell chimes.

“Expecting someone?” Shakky teases, coming behind the bar and pouring herself a glass.

“Something like that,” you mutter before making your way past her to attend to someone in the corner of the room. It’s the same person from around two weeks ago- he’s louder this time, but there were also less customers tonight and no one seems to be complaining any so you let it slide. “Yes? How may I hELP-?!”

What you can’t let slide is how he forcefully grabs your wrist and essentially drags your body to lean over the table. “Ah, damn,” you’re used to drunks, not idiots. He has a permanent grin plastered over his lips and his grip on your wrist tightens. “I can’t let go! Guess we must be soulmates!”

There is no explaining the disgust that washes over your face. “Sir, I’m asking you politely to let go.”

Everyone who goes here knows that it’s simply an unwritten rule to not fight unless you wanted to be beaten half to death. Not by you- dear lord no- Shakky on the other hand was ruthless and you’d never want to end up on the other side of her fist.

Ever.

“Huh?” He slurs, “didn’t I just tell you that I can’t let go?”

“I’m telling you-” before you’re able to get anymore words out another hand wraps around the older man’s wrist, successfully shutting you up. For a second, the dread of it being one of his friends rises, but it’s quickly crushed by the voice that follows.

“I’m sure you’re not deaf. She said let go.”

The bar is dead silent for a few seconds before the man roughly releases his grip on your arm. A bit gentler would’ve been nice, you internally grumble, rubbing the sore area.

“Hey there, could I ask exactly what you were trying to do with my precious barkeep?” Your boss comes over, leaning against the table. She gives you a wink and a slight nudge of her head towards the break room and you don’t think twice before leaving the scene, your green haired friend following close behind.

“Is your wrist alright?” He questions as soon as the door closes. “My bad for being late, I got held back by some work Franky wanted done.”

His hand reaches out to gently hold your wrist and a spark of electricity shocks you both. Usually, your first instinct would be to flinch and pull away, but he has a firm grip.

“Uhm,” you glance down, then back up at him. “It’ll probably bruise tomorrow but it’s nothing to worry too much about...”

His face is unreadable, and after a couple seconds his ears turn a faint shade of red. “I can’t let go.”

You chuckle at his poor attempt of a joke. “C’mon now, we just went through this.” You lift your free hand to pry his fingers off your wrist only to feel the same electric shock as earlier. It doesn’t hurt, only stinging enough to really initially surprise anyone, but you quickly realize he wasn’t trying to pull your leg.

Oh.

“So,” he awkwardly lifts his other hand. “I brought your umbrella.”