#anyways hope you find the right recipe!!

[lockedinabookstore]

I'll throw my recipe in the ring if we're sharing. I underbake it so that it's a bit gooey but I think it's typically a pretty solid brownie

3/4 cup melted butter

1 cup of sugar (original recipe only called for white but I do about 1/3 brown and the rest white

2 eggs

1 tbsp vanilla

3/4 cup cocoa powder

1/2 cup flour

Uh 2 medium handfuls choc chips

I bake at 350 for 30 minutes then let sit in the oven to cool for ~10 to get my prefered level of moist. I think if you go for a full 40 minutes that would make more crispy. Also I'm in a pretty humid place so note that and I think if you left them on the counter to cool completely that would help. I typically put them in tupperware as soon as I can to trap moisture

Potion of tooth decay (unsatisfactory, overly-sweet brownie recipe).

[choerrypuffs]

red velvet hearts.

pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.

author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3

warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama

playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift

RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU

“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.” 

“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier. 

“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”

“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes. 

“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely. 

You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson. 

“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly. 

“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.” 

“I was handling things just fine on my own.”

“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state. 

You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.” 

The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention. 

By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support. 

Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.

Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” 

His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw. 

“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers. 

“You don’t look―” 

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.

After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?” 

You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck. 

And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod. 

.

.

.

Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer. 

Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip. 

When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood. 

“That was…delicious,” he breathes. 

“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.” 

“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs. 

“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.” 

Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together. 

He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw. 

Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes. 

“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks: 

“So, you’re hiring?” 

You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question. 

Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up. 

“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”

“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias. 

Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.

“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand. 

You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say: 

“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?” 

It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries. 

“I’d love nothing more.”

Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu. 

He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling. 

RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE

“Are you out of your mind?”

You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.” 

“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!” 

“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses. 

“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?” 

Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“What?”

“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. 

“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“So, when do I get to meet him―”

You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup. 

You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking. 

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.” 

Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.” 

You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.” 

“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows. 

You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.” 

“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.” 

His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in. 

But you don’t. 

“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.” 

And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you. 

He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him. 

Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday. 

“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly. 

“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand. 

“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.” 

The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.

“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease. 

His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?” 

“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.” 

It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck. 

“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh. 

“Pretty lame, right?” 

“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.” 

Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.” 

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently. 

He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”

That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?” 

He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.” 

There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length. 

“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!” 

“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course. Who else would I go with?” 

“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately. 

“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain. 

“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.” 

“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms. 

“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile. 

“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him. 

He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.” 

“That doesn’t sound―”

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?” 

“...Seven.”

.

.

.

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property. 

“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.” 

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes. 

You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you. 

Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt. 

“Oh my God, your face!” 

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.” 

“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.” 

“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes. 

“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice. 

Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself. 

You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression

“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile. 

“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod. 

“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.” 

“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”

“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.” 

You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here. 

“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh. 

“Why?” 

You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you. 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.” 

Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction. 

“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.” 

He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that. 

“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.” 

Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away. 

He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever. 

“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.” 

You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself? 

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. 

You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway. 

.

.

.

“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table. 

Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.” 

“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice. 

Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it. 

“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms. 

“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.” 

“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”

“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.” 

“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.” 

“I’ll help,” he insists. 

“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.” 

He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”

“What? A blueberry pie?”

Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.

“Peace.” 

And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too. 

RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF

It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t. 

You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now. 

He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him. 

You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay. 

“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.

“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee. 

She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold. 

Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too. 

“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?” 

Maybe because he has, you want to tell her. 

Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away. 

You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself. 

However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be. 

.

.

.

The cream puffs aren’t rising.

You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise. 

But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t. 

You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff. 

“Y/N, they’re burning.” 

Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp. 

“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs. 

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.” 

He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it. 

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?” 

When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?” 

His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch. 

“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.” 

He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.” 

“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?” 

“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly. 

“Do you treat all your friends like that?” 

“When I don’t want to see them.” 

You wait for him to continue.

“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”

He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him. 

But he steps back. 

“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.” 

“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly. 

“I probably should,” he answers shakily. 

“What’s stopping you?” 

“Just…one reason.” 

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.” 

Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.

“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.” 

When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back. 

“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.” 

RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE

When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all. 

And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you. 

You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself. 

However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless. 

So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check. 

“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.” 

You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly. 

“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.” 

Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first. 

When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take. 

The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about― 

And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way. 

“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.” 

You stare at him, still not sure how to react. 

“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.” 

Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting. 

“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?” 

You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―” 

Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.

When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath. 

“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.” 

He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?” 

“What?”

Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare. 

“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.

You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich. 

“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”

“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.

“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up. 

“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.

Peace. 

EXTRA

“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?” 

Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

“Because I’m curious.” 

“If I answer, will you let me rest?”

“Depends on how good your answer is.” 

“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.” 

You smile against the crook of his neck. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.” 

[dramaticals]

following instructions

pairing: theodore nott x gryffindor reader

summary: enemies with benefits with theo where they're constantly insulting each other but they still can't get enough. smut. au where characters at hogwarts are aged up to be 19+. mdni. / requested by anonymous.

author's note: co-wrote this with lily (@softeliza) <3 we honestly wrote this as a theo x hermione, but swapped hermione for reader

✧ read part two: following instructions (headcanons) ✧

Theo's judging eyes watch as you dice the sopophorous bean before tossing it into your cauldron, your gaze shifting between your opened textbook and your cauldron. A bead of sweat drips from your forehead. You were meticulously following the directions, and yet something still didn't seem right about your potion.

Theo scoffs, shaking his head. What an idiot, he thinks.

"You're supposed to crush it." Theo says, demonstrating pointedly with a silver dagger and popping the squashed bean into his own cauldron. The cauldron bubbles, and the liquid shifts a shade darker.

"You're supposed to follow the instructions, which clearly say to cut it," you say through gritted teeth.

Potions was the one class Theo never followed the directions for, and yet he always seemed to be doing significantly better than you. You hated that.

"You know," you add with a huff, annoyance laced in your words. "Just because you don't respect the rules any other time doesn't mean you shouldn't follow a simple recipe."

There was something about pissing you off that gave Theo the right amount of joy to get him through the day. Hearing you huff at his words was like finding a jelly slug in a mountain of acid pops. It was glorious.

"Do you believe everything you read?" Theo asks mockingly, his eyes unmoving from the cauldron in front of him. He doesn't know why he was helping you—this was meant to be a competition for the coveted felix felicis. Maybe it was because Theo knew you weren't going to listen to him anyway. "Besides, I respect the rules." Theo says, but even he can't keep a straight face at his claim, his lips tugging into a smirk.

"I believe everything I read in a textbook," you say, your eyes narrowing and your mouth falling open in shock. Was he serious? "You know, that book of words that literally outlines how to make the potion? How else would you know how to brew it?" You hope he doesn't notice the genuine curiosity in your question. You actually wanted to know how Theo knew what to do all the time. It was so infuriating.

"Natural intelligence and charm." Theo says coolly.

In actuality, Theo had managed to find a textbook filled with inscriptions, correcting the printed text with tips and tricks on how to brew a potion every time. But he wasn't going to tell you that. Theo would gladly and happily let you believe he was gifted.

Theo peeks at your cauldron and has to hold a snort back. It looked just about ready to implode.

"This is a simple recipe, huh?" Theo muses. "Is that why your potion looks and smells like absolute shit?"

"Maybe I just thought I'd throw you a scrap with this one. I mean, we both know you're in desperate need of some luck, especially on the Quidditch pitch. If anyone needs this win, it's you."

"Oh, so you watch me on the pitch, do you?" Theo says with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes. Curse him.

Theo stirs counterclockwise a few times and then once again clockwise. The potion bubbles again. This time, it shifts into its final colour form. Bingo.

Theo, with an expression beaming with pride, calls over Professor Slughorn to inspect the potion. You zero in on Theo's cauldron and let out a small sigh. You didn't need confirmation from Slughorn to know that Theo did it. That bloody asshole did it.

Slughorn tosses a single leaf into the cauldron. The leaf disintegrates, and Slughorn clasps his hands together and announces, "We have a winner! Class dismissed!"

As Theo receives congratulations from all around, you begin to tidy your workspace, empty your cauldron, and pack your things. Anger boils in your stomach. As much as you tried to avert your gaze from Theo, your eyes are drawn to the tiny vile Slughorn passes to Theo. With a triumphant smirk thrown your way, he tucks the potion into his pocket before cleaning his workspace.

"Try to use it for something other than trying to sleep with girls," you quip, clutching your books to your chest. The confident, holier-than-thou persona slips over you like a glove. It was a default shield whenever you felt threatened, especially academically. And Theo was often on the receiving end of it all. "I mean, I'm sure you could use some luck in that department, but I doubt that's what Zygmunt Budge had in mind."

"I'm doing quite well in that department, actually." Theo says. With looks and an attitude like his, girls were flocking to him like nifflers to gold. "Much like potions, really. They all just come to me."

Theo awaits your signature glare and snarky remark, but he was simply met with a silent shove to his shoulder as you headed to the door. His brows furrow, disappointed in the lack of repartee, before Theo's walking after you. He falls into step with you, following you through the dimly lit corridors of the dungeon.

"What's the rush, little lion? Can't stomach losing?"

"I'm not in a rush; I just don't want to be around you. Don't you have some dingy hole to crawl back into?" You fume, your grip on your textbooks tightens, and your pace quickens.

"You wound me." Theo simpers, clutching his chest in mock-hurt.

Being in Theo's presence was getting you more and more riled up. You felt like you were minutes away from becoming a human version of a Filibuster Firework. Theo loved when you got like this. He can't quite pinpoint the exact moment he realized why he liked seeing you so worked up, but he's quickly reminded by the staggered breathing and the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Theo continues to stroll alongside you, an air of arrogance in each step he takes. You quickly realize you have no idea where you're headed. The echoing of both your steps, coupled with the hovering nuisance on your side, makes you let out a sharp, frustrated exhale. You turn to Theo, glaring daggers into his stormy eyes.

"Can you just go? You're so—ugh." You growl, unable to find the proper words.

Theo's brows perk upward. There's something familiar about the expression you give him. He'd seen it before. Last time he'd seen it, the two of you ended up christening the boy's change room after a Quidditch match—Slytherin should beat Gryffindor more often.

Before you can articulate your frustrations, Theo grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into a vacant classroom. The feeling of his fingers around your wrist sends a jolt of warmth straight through your body. Theo pins you against the door, your books falling to the floor with a sharp thud. He skillfully locks the door with a slight flick of his wand before muttering the muffliato charm and putting his wand away. Darkened eyes meet your gaze, a mixture of amusement and want in his eyes.

"I'm so what?" Theo demands. His hand caresses your cheek before roughly wrapping around the base of your throat. "Use your words."

Your mind goes hazy, as if you've been confunded, the moment you feel his hand on your throat. You'd never admit how much you loved when Theo did that.

With a shaky breath, you meet his intense gaze to say, "Infuriating."

The way you reacted to Theo's touch was unlike any other girl he had the pleasure of fucking at Hogwarts. You were just so obvious, and Theo had no shame in admitting that he found it all extremely arousing. Of course, your mouth would claim otherwise, but Theo always had a plan to occupy your pretty little mouth.

You bite down on your lip, stifling the whimper begging to escape. Your breathing is in sync with each other, and the sexual tension makes the air around you thick.

"Are you going to fix it? Or are you just going to stand there like an idiot?" You tempt, leaning up slightly, just to see if he'll close the gap between your lips and his.

"I don't know," Theo responds, keeping a fair distance—only enough for your lips to brush lightly against his. To keep you wanting. Theo leans into your neck, ghosting breathy, teasing kisses up until he's milimeters away from your ear. "Are you going to say please?"

"You've got to be kidding," you huff, shooting a glare at Theo as you try to keep your breathing steady.

You weren't exactly experienced, at least not like Theo. You had a few moments with others, but no one had ever gotten you to feel as good as Theo did. It enraged you that Theo knew how good he made you feel, but you also took pleasure in knowing that you must be riling him up just as equally because Theo always seemed to come crawling back.

You bring your free hand up, tangling your fingers in his lush, brown locks, before tugging his head back a bit so he could look at you. He groans at this. It was one of many acts that really got Theo going, and it just so happened to be where your hands gravitated to the most.

"Please," you say, the tiniest of smirks on your lips.

Anticipation runs through your veins. You didn't need to say anything else. By the way he was looking at you, his lustful eyes boring into your gaze, Theo knew you needed him right now.

"Good girl," he muses with a cocky grin.

The first time Theo had praised you like that, while laced with ridicule, it had elicited a whimper that had him reeling. Today was no different.

Theo moves his hand from your throat and down to your waist, expertly pulling you away from the door and onto the desks behind him. Theo wastes no time and captures your lips with his. One hand finds your thigh, teasing up your bare skin and under your skirt. Your hands find and tug at his belt. Theo unbuckles it and tosses it aside.

"Let's see if you can keep it up." Theo says hotly against your lips.

It was in your nature to be good. But with Theo, there was that bubbling voice inside you that beckoned you to misbehave—to get under his skin. To be bad, all so he could teach you a lesson. Which is why, as Theo plants nippy, wet kisses down your neck, you can't help the words that blurt out of your mouth.

"Let's see if you can make me shake, like—what was that bloke's name..." You trail off, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt for another kiss and wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close.

There was no other guy, of course, but you wanted him to think otherwise. The mischievous glint in your eyes changes to amusement as Theo's eyes darken. His fingers drag possessively across the insides of your thighs. It was hard for Theo to imagine you with someone else. You two weren't exclusive by any means, but the way you'd whimper and dig your nails into his back had him feeling territorial.

"Shake?" Theo asks against your lips. There was a tinge of something in his tone, and, deep down, you wanted it to be jealousy. "I'll fucking make you shake."

Feverish kisses move down your neck, eliciting a whine out of you, his free hands taking residence on the base of your throat. He plants open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive spots along your neck, sucking softly on the skin, surely leaving a mark everyone would be able to see. Theo pulls back to admire his work. He's pleased. You, on the other hand, were equal parts excited and annoyed. Excited because the sensation made the blood rush to your cheeks and to your core, and annoyed because you had to explain the markings to your friends.

"Theo," you hiss. "You know better."

Theo doesn't listen, obviously. Instead, he moves down your body until he's crouched and face-to-cunt. Slender fingers reach under your skirt, hook onto your panties, and slide the garment off. In an instant, Theo's between your legs, lapping his tongue relentlessly over your clit.

"Oh my god," you gasp, one hand grasping onto the edge of the desk, your back arching instinctively to bring yourself closer to his tongue. Your free hand finds his hair again, your hips rolling to meet his movements.

Theo's smirks into your core, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels you roll onto his mouth. Strong hands position themselves on either leg, urging you to spread your legs wider. You try to obey his silent requests, but it's not enough. Impatience hits him hard, and he's repositioning your legs so they're slung over his shoulders, a firm hand pushing your hips down onto the wooden desk. The new position allowed him to be flush against you, his tongue circling your entrance and lapping up any arousal.

"Theo," you moan, louder than normal.

You could tell he was pissed. It'd always been your goal, especially in intimate settings, but Theo had never been like this. He buries his face between your legs, his nose rubbing against your clit as his tongue works on your opening. He dips a finger in and withdraws it out of you slowly, contrasting his unyielding tongue. Your eyes flutter shut with pleasure.

"More," you choke out. "Please, give me more."

Your moans were fueling the already raging fire in him. Fuck, he needed to hear more of that. Theo uses his free hand to hold you steady, his tongue and lips unrelenting. He adds another digit inside of you, curling his fingers against your spot. Theo wanted to make you cum now more than ever. He wanted you to remember that even if you were fucking someone else, he was the only one who could make you unravel like this.

"Sit fucking still then," he growled against your slit, stormy eyes shooting up to look at you.

You fight hard to listen to him, desperately trying not to squirm. Theo was cruel enough to stop and leave you high and dry, so it was in your best interest to do as instructed. You dig your nails into the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep your focus on something other than the pleasure growing inside of you.

"Th-Theo," you gasp. "I—"

You're close, and you know what Theo wants—what he always wants. Theo wanted you to ask for permission, and with the image of someone else messing with you fresh in his mind, Theo needed to know he had that control over you now more than ever. Breathy pants fill the room, and you fear you can't hold it back any longer.

"Fuck, please. Can I please..." You moan, throwing your head back against the desk.

"Please what?" Theo says roughly against you. If Theo's cock wasn't already erect, it would be now. Your moans and gasps of pleasure were truly something that needed to be studied. Who knew these delightfully ragged breaths could come out of someone so irritatingly uptight? "Words, Y/L/N."

The fog of pleasure Theo has you in has made it impossible for you to do the one thing you pride yourself on: following the instructions. Typically, Theo would remove himself and make you beg for contact. Today, though, his actions were ceaseless. Despite your strong will to be good, your body wouldn't cooperate.

"Oh my god," you whimper, your back arching as an intense orgasm washes over you. Your body jerks—no, shakes—and your moans are broken up by desperate gasps as wave after wave hits you.

Theo curses under his breath. As pissed as he was that you didn't ask, Theo graciously allows you to release on his tongue, lapping up your sweet fluids. He'd reprimand you later. As you come down from your high, your body collapses onto the desk. You've never felt anything like that before.

Theo stands and slides his fingers out of you slowly. His darkened, lustful eyes are trained on yours. As much as he enjoyed the view, Theo wasn't happy.

"Don't," you breathe. "I know—I should have... I know."

"So much for following instructions," Theo says, disregarding your words. He licks your arousal off his fingers casually, and the sight makes you shift and clench your thighs together. He was the hottest irritant you've ever seen.

"Fuck off," you say with an exasperated huff. You prop yourself up by your elbows, slowly moving into a sitting position. "You didn't exactly help the situation."

So maybe Theo was being a bit of a prick. Not like he could help it—you squirming and moaning for him like that triggered something primal in him. Theo didn't want to stop; he wanted to make you scream for him. Still, it really shouldn't have been hard to ask.

By the way Theo was looking at you, you could tell it would take more than a crass brush-off to wipe the icy glare and pouted lips from his expression. Delicate fingers grip onto Theo's shirt, tugging him closer to you. You ghost your lips against his, meeting his steely gaze. "Will you let me make it up to you?"

You don't wait for a response. Instead, you nip at his bottom lip before pulling him in for a slow, deep kiss. Despite his annoyance, Theo kisses back, placing a strong hand behind your neck to keep you in place. The kiss is full of passion, anger, and need.

You maneuver yourself off the desk, unbreaking the hot kiss, as you reposition so that Theo's the one against the desk. He acknowledges you taking charge, and he allows it because, quite frankly, whenever you did take charge, Theo found it extremely intoxicating.

Only now do you break the kiss, peering up at Theo as your hands fumble with his pants. He kicks them off just as you remove your own top, making a point of leaving your bra intact. Theo's breath catches. God, he wanted to bury his face between the valley of your breasts.

"So?" You ask again, a devilish smirk on your lips, your fingers making progress on unbuttoning his collared shirt. "Will you?"

"Go on, then." Theo says. It's not lost on him how much leniency he gives you—not just in this moment. Any other girl who disobeyed his instructions would have been tossed aside so he could move on to the next. But with you, as vexing as you were, you also very much intrigued him.

At his permission, you lightly push him back so he's sitting on the desk, giving him a much comfortable position to watch as you slowly unhook your bra, letting the garment fall to the floor. You can sense his probing eyes on you, and you can't help the sly smile that appears as you straddle him, one leg on each side of him.

Theo's hands find your waist immediately, slowly sliding up your sides, to your bare back, and then to your front. He squeezes your breasts, eliciting a breathy moan from you. Your skin was soft under his rough hands.

"And I thought you were going to let that ego of yours make a horrible choice for the both of us." You tease.

Theo's too enamoured with this new position (and view) to respond to your jests. One hand rests firmly on your jaw as he pulls you in for a kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. Meanwhile, your hand moves to stroke his length, feeling Theo grow even harder at your touch.

"Shit," Theo groans.

"Someone's missed me," you whisper against his lips. Your thumb teases the tip of his cock, evoking a slight twitch out of him.

"God, shut up."

Theo wanted nothing more than to wipe—no, fuck—that smug expression on your face. And he's just about ready to take matters into his own hands, but you beat him to it.

Still wet from your previous orgasm, you were beyond ready to have Theo inside you. You lift yourself up slightly, guiding him to your entrance. He bites back a groan, his hands gripping your waist. You lock gazes as you slowly lower yourself onto him, your mouth falling open in a glorious 'o' shape as you take all of him into you.

While this wasn't the first time you had Theodore Nott resting deeply in your cunt, you took a moment to adjust.

"Are you going to move, or what?" Theo growls impatiently, bucking his hips and roughly nipping at the soft skin on your neck.

His impatience makes you smirk.

"Hey," you say, with a wry smile. You snake your fingers up to his hair, tugging his head back slightly to give you room to trail a path of kisses along his neck. You were going to prolong this and make you both ache for more. You didn't want to be the only one who was a moaning mess today. "If I'm making it up to you, then it's my rules."

"You know I don't give a shit about rules."

"Too bad."

This makes Theo's jaw clench. Before he can utter another quip, you're rolling your hips, feeling him embedded inside you. The movement feels good, but you know it's not enough for either of you just yet.

"God, I'm thankful your ego isn't the only thing that's big," you moan against his ear.

This makes Theo's jaw clench. You hear a string of curse words in another language, something you've noticed Theo does in moments where his brain had short-circuited. Enough sense, it seems, is knocked back into him as you can understand the breathless words, "And you take me so fucking well."

Theo's lips find the top of your chest, kissing down feverishly. His tongue flicks expertly against your right nipple as his hand moves to grip your bare ass from under your skirt. You arch into him, letting out a sharp gasp at the dual sensation. Despite his sentiment about rules, Theo lets you control the pace. He holds back the strong desire to thrust upwards into you, to fuck you hard.

"Oh, Theo," you whine as you continue to roll your hips. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and lift yourself up, almost completely off his dick. Ghosting your lips against his, you push yourself back down—hard—feeling him go even deeper. You repeat these movements, your moans growing louder.

Theo can't stop the thoughts of how gorgeous you looked from clouding his mind. You weren't bad to look at normally, but seeing you fuck yourself with his cock had to be one of the wonders of the world. Only if that were a reality, Theo's not sure he could stand anyone else ogling you like this.

"Yes, that... that feels good." Theo groans, his cock throbbing from your movements.

You press your forehead against his, your eyes locking with his as you continue. One of the things Theo liked most about this little arrangement was your unnerving ability to keep eye contact—there was nothing more sexy than seeing the woman you were pleasuring crumble. Eyes can tell you everything.

"I'm trying to—" you breathe, rocking yourself against him. The movement wasn't nearly fast enough, but the way you were moving had him reaching depths you didn't know were attainable. "—to be good."

"Are you?" Theo asks between pants, squeezing your ass roughly. He leans into your lips. "Can you be a good girl for me now?"

You give him a small nod, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Your breath is quavering as you try to speak; your eyes re-lock onto his. "Am I not being good for you?"

This makes him chuckle darkly. Theo wasn't an idiot. He knew you practically yearned for his words of praise. The knowledge was something he took advantage of from time to time, withholding and dangling his praise in front of you just to see how far you'd go to make him say it.

To prove to Theo you were being good, you push yourself down onto him roughly, a whimper escaping your lips. You increase your speed, unable to hold out anymore, fucking yourself hard, deep, and fast on his cock.

"Fuck." Theo swears, and he can't help himself now. Hands keep you in place as he fucks up into you, cock hitting your spot repeatedly and mercilessly. He relishes the feeling of your wet core around him. Your clit presses against his pelvis at each thrust.

You took pleasure (literally and figuratively) in Theo's natural ability in knowing. He knew what to say, how to touch you so you were melting, and when to take back control. His hands digging into your hips told you everything you needed to know: Theo was going to fuck you senseless.

"I want to be good," you pant, your nails digging into his back, grasping for a release.

"Then you know what I want to hear."

He holds you flush against him, arms wrapping around you as he continues to thrust. He can feel his own pleasure grow. Your head falls onto his shoulder as you feel it building up in your stomach again. This time, you weren't going to wait until it was too late.

"Theo, please," you practically beg. Theo was the only person who'd ever make you feel like this, and you were past the point of caring whether he knew it too. "Can I cum, please? For you."

"Yes," Theo hisses. He was close too. "Cum for me. Now."

Your orgasm hits you hard and fast, your head falling back as you drag your nails into his skin. Theo continues to thrust up sharply, chasing the high for the both of you. You clench around his length, the sensation mixed with your moans pushing Theo over the edge.

"That's my good girl."

Theo's praise for you was not lost in the chorus of breathy moans and grunts of pleasure. His addition of the word 'my' made you shake even more as another wave of pleasure washes over you.

"Oh, God, yes, Theo."

His hand moves to the back of your neck desperately, guiding you into him for a passionate kiss as he spills into you with a moan.

Ragged breaths fill the room. There was always a moment of limbo after every encounter—a moment where the two of you stayed entangled and nestled with each other, savouring the proximity and stealing last, sweet kisses. You knew the moment you got up, the two of you would go back to despising each other again, until next time.

"So?" Theo asks after a moment, expectant of an answer, as if you could read his mind. "That dumb git you mentioned earlier. Was he better than me?"

His question makes you smirk, and you have to bite it back so as not to show how content you were that he had lingered on that thought.

"You don't want me to answer that," you say, giving him a small pat on the shoulder before getting up. You slip back into your clothes and adjust your hair.

The answer should have been obvious to Theo, but you weren't giving him the satisfaction of admitting it because it did nothing for your reality. This was as far as this would go. Theodore Nott was a pretentious asshole who just so happened to be a good fuck. There was never going to be more than that.

"You definitely exceeded expectations today, Theo," you say, gathering your books from the floor. "But you didn't do anything worth an outstanding."

With a swift flick of your wand, you unlock the door and leave Theo in the vacant classroom, already fantasizing about next time.

[dandelionsresilience]

whether the internet becomes an intolerable surveillance state, ubiquitous subscription model, or unusably ad- or AI-ridden shithole, I think we need to remember

how to do things offline

either on your personal hard drive (just because it’s an app doesn’t mean the information is stored in your device) or on paper. I’m not saying the collapse of the internet is imminent, and I’m not suggesting we do everything completely without technology, or even stop using it until we have to. (to be clear, I also don’t think the internet will just blink out of existence, suddenly stop being a thing at all; rather I think it might continue to lose its usefulness to the point where it’s impossible to get anything done. anyway) but some people may have forgotten how we got by before the internet (I almost have!), and the younger generation might not have experienced it at all.

I figure most people probably use the internet mainly for communication with friends and family, entertainment and creation (eg. writing), and looking up how to do things, so here’s how to do those things offline:

First and most importantly, download everything important to you onto at least one hard drive and at least one flashdrive! files can get corrupted and hardware can get damaged or lost, but as long as you keep backup copies, you have much-closer-to-guaranteed access versus hoping a business doesn’t decide to paywall, purge, or otherwise revoke your access. I would recommend getting irreplaceable photos printed as well

download and/or print/write down:

anything important to you - photos/videos, journals, certificates, college transcripts

contact info - phone numbers and/or addresses of friends/family (know how to contact them if you can’t use your favourite messaging app), doctors (open hours would be good too), veterinarians if you have pets, and work

how-to’s - recipes (one, two), emergency preparedness (what do I do if… eg. I smell gas)

other things you might google: cleaning chemicals to NOT mix, what laundry tag symbols mean, people food dogs and cats can and can’t eat, plant toxicity to pets

and know offline ways to find things out - local radio station, newspaper, a nearby highway rest area might have a region map, public libraries usually have a bunch of resources

also, those of you who get periods should strongly consider not using period tracking apps! here’s how to track your period manually

free printable period tracker templates (no printer? public libraries usually charge a few cents per page, or you can recreate it by hand)

moving on to entertainment, you can still get most media for free! it’s completely legal to download your favourite movies to your own personal hard drive, you just can’t sell or distribute copies (not legal advice)

movies: wcostream.tv (right click the player) - the url changes every once in a while but usually redirects; I recently noticed that it’s hiding a lot of movies behind “premium,” so it may or may not work anymore | download youtube videos

music: how to get music without streaming it | legal free downloads

games: steamunlocked.net - doesn’t have every game and can be slow to update, but very reliable

books: free online libraries | legal free downloads

otherwise passing time:

active outdoor games

for road trips (social verbal games)

for when power’s out

for sheltering in place (not all offline, but good ideas)

board games (often found at thrift stores)

ad-free customisable games collection (mobile)

read, write, draw, or whatever your craft is, sing, dance, clean, reorganise, take a bath

go outside - excuses include napping (if safe), eating, reading, finding cool plants/animals/rocks, playing with the dog

places to go include:

zoos and museums can be surprisingly cheap

parks and nature preserves

library, mall, or game shop

and a few miscellaneous things for good measure:

time budgeting | household management

how to use a planner | I’ve had success with visually blocked-out schedules like these

please add on if you have any other offline alternatives to common uses of the internet!

[forzalando]

boo’d up

summary: a night out enjoying some haunted houses leads to a few surprises pairing: oscar piastri x f!reader (Y/N, use of she/her), implied pairings of alex x charles, rebecca x carlos, & carmen x george wc: 1.6k warnings: descriptions of a haunted house (including darkness, tight spaces, screaming), mentions of being afraid/panicking, cursing author's note: guys i had this idea (because this is based on a true story/real-life experience where i was Y/N in this exact scenario except it was not a hot guy/oscar piastri, it was a young woman and i scared the absolute shit out of her). so i took a lot of creative liberties here. anyway! this is completely un-edited and complete garbage but i couldn't get it out of my head and i haven't written in 12 years. i figured it was time. go crazy!

It was a cold October night; the wind whistling through half-barren trees caused a slight shiver to trickle down your body.  The sun had set on the drive to your destination – an old farm in the middle of nowhere, which your friends had pointed out multiple times was a recipe for disaster. You shamelessly pulled the upcoming birthday card to get them to agree to the weekend activity: a haunted house compound you’d read about online that had impeccable reviews – four different houses for $40 was a deal you couldn’t pass up.

A massive, dark, dilapidated house stood in front of you – your first haunted destination of the evening. Screams from inside pierced through the air and sent waves of uneasiness and excitement through you; you’d fallen prey to falsely advertised haunted houses in the past, so you hoped with all your might that these did not disappoint.

“I should’ve stayed home,” Carmen grumbled as she pouted behind you in line. “It’s freezing, dark, and I have a million things I could be working on.”

“Oh, come on, Carm,” you teased, lightly punching her arm. “You’re telling me this isn’t your ideal Saturday night?”

“It’s definitely mine,” Rebecca chirped. “I love Halloween – all the creepy crawlies, scary movies, witches, chainsaw-wielding psychopaths. And candy, can’t forget the candy.”

You laughed and looked around at your small group, your smile faltering a bit when your eyes landed on Alex. She’d wrapped herself up tightly in her sweater, and you could tell she was trying her hardest to put on a brave face, but you saw right through the façade.

“Alex, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you urged. “I promise you, it’s absolutely ok.”

She shook her head quickly, linking her arm through yours. “I’ll be fine – it’s all fake, right? And I’ll just hold onto you the whole time; I’m still betting that you’re going to be the most scared out of all of us, even if you disagree.”

“Well, we’re about to find out,” you sang, pulling Alex forward to follow Rebecca and Carmen into the menacing-looking house.

Immediately upon entering, you were plunged into complete darkness. The hallways were just wide enough to walk through sideways – if you tried to walk straight, your shoulders scraped against the walls. People were incessantly banging on the walls beside you – screaming and shouting in your ears, your face, following you as you tried to shimmy as quickly as you could through the maze.

You could feel your heart rate kicking up, and each time someone banged on the wall and screamed near you, it began to beat even faster.

In the midst of your panic, you realized Alex’s hand was no longer in yours. You reached back blindly until you were gripping her sweater-clad forearm and started pulling, but surprisingly, pulling with very little movement.

“Alex, move faster,” you pleaded, growing more and more impatient, more panicked. It felt as if she was trying to keep you from running, trying to pull you back and keep you in that godforsaken house. Either the latter or she had suddenly gained a shit ton of muscle, preventing you from pulling her along with ease. “I’m scared, okay? You win, I’m terrified. Now, please try to keep up, I can’t see a goddamned thing.”

The horrors seemed endless – it was still pitch black, and the further you went into the house, the smaller the hallways became. As soon as you started to think you’d never get out and would be stuck in that nightmare forever, you saw streaks of moonlight ahead and burst through a black curtain into the cool, night air.

Gasping for a breath, you dropped Alex’s arm and started yelling as you spun to face her.

“Alex, what the hell – oh my god, you’re not Alex.”

Stood behind you, rubbing their wrist, was an impossibly attractive guy around your age with floppy brown hair and a look of concern on his face.

“You’ve got a hell of a grip,” he mumbled, a thick Australian accent hitting your ears. “Think you might have bruised me.”

You could hear Rebecca and Carmen snickering somewhere behind you, “Yeah, Y/N, you bruised him.”

It took everything in you, but you ignored your friends and focused your attention on the handsome stranger before you.

“I am so, so sorry; I thought you were my friend, and I was panicking just a bit, trying to get out of there as fast as I could. Plus, Alex was afraid before we even got in the house and – wait where is Alex?”

You started looking around frantically, convinced that you’d left your friend stranded in that abomination of a haunted house, only to hear her giggling and chatting with someone just a few feet away.

“It looks like Charles rescued your friend,” the handsome stranger shared. “Since you were too focused on ripping my arm out of my socket.”

“I said I was sorry – ” you started to say, but as you turned back towards him, you noticed a smirk of amusement on his face.

He put his hands in the air in surrender and laughed, “Hey, I’m just messing with you; no actual harm done. I’m Oscar, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you whispered back, feeling a sudden wave of shyness come over you now that the initial shock was wearing off. “And I really am sorry, I hope I didn’t freak you out too much.”

You froze as he stepped closer to you and lowered his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”

Nodding in response, you held your breath as he leaned in even closer to whisper in your ear. “That was absolutely terrifying and I’m glad I had you guiding me through.”

Heat rose up your neck as he pulled away slowly, a soft smile on his face and kind eyes to match.

“Well, I’d use the word guiding very lightly,” you laughed. “More like yanking or heaving, well, trying to. I could barely move you, and I was pulling with all my might. You must eat some serious amounts of spinach.”

“Spinach?”

“You know, Popeye? The sailor man? I’m strong to the finish, cause I eats me spinach?”

He shook his head and your cheeks heated in embarrassment – Popeye? Really?

Before you could die of humiliation and make one of the houses actually haunted, he bumped his shoulder against yours and laughed.

“Must be an American thing – I’m new here.”

“Well, maybe I can show you around,” you offered, bumping his shoulder right back. “I’ve been told I’m a great tour guide.”

“I’d like that very much. Maybe you can start by taking me through the rest of these houses? You can hold my hand – just in case you get scared again.”

He spoke with all the confidence in the world, but his cheeks and nose were flushed a gorgeous pink that you could see even in the moonlight.

You slipped your hand in his and turned your attention back to your friends, who were watching with wide eyes.

“Leave it to Y/N to accidentally almost kidnap a complete stranger in a pitch-black haunted house, and they turn out to be her dream guy,” Rebecca teased. “Looks like Alex found someone too – what did we do wrong, Carmen?”

Before Carmen could answer, two voices shouted from behind and caught everyone’s attention – two more devastatingly handsome men running towards your group.

“Hey, sorry we’re late, Carlos got us lost,” a British voice rang out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carmen and Rebecca smile giddily and high-five each other. Before walking over to the newcomers, they winked in your direction and whispered simultaneous “thank you’s”.

You winked back and squeezed Oscar’s hand a little tighter before leading everyone towards the next house.

“I think this next one is clown-themed,” someone mused from behind, causing you to stiffen.

“Clowns?” You whispered, your steps slowing to a near stop.

Alex giggled – “See, Y/N, I told you that you’d end up being the most scared! You should’ve listened to us when we tried to change your mind about coming!”

You turned your gaze towards Oscar, his eyes already on you and that adorable pink blush still prominent on his cheeks. “You know what, I’m actually really glad we came, even if I hate the dark, hate tight spaces, hate clowns, and will probably hate whatever else comes after that.”

“I’m glad you came too,” Oscar replied, adjusting his grip to link his fingers through yours. “And don’t worry, I’ll protect you from any clowns.”

“Mate, you’re terrified of clowns,” Charles ribbed. “You literally said on the way here that if there were any clown-themed houses, you would leave.”

“Gee, thanks, Charles, you could have just kept that to yourself for the sake of my pride.”

“We can protect each other,” you offered. “Or if it’s too much, we can grab some seriously overpriced snacks and wait for everyone else to go through the rest of the houses.”

“How about we face our fear but if either of us screams at any point in the house, you let me take you on a date?”

“I mean, we’re both afraid of clowns, it’s bound to happen,” you acknowledged.

He smiled at you; a heart-stopping, full-mouthed grin, and clarified, “Exactly.”

As soon as you stepped into the haunted house, only one foot each in the door before anything or anyone had even popped out, you both let out blood-curdling shrieks.

taglist: @scuderiahoney @lam-ila @nebarious @chocolatepoetryfun @maxlarens @coff33andb00ks @katsu28 @sof1shticated @viikysmile @scuderiarossa @littlegrapejuice @alexxavicry @priopp123 @wobblymug @ctrlyomomma @ladystardust05 @reiofsuns2001 @foreveralbon @anaviieiraaa

taglist post: here!! if you’d like to be added!

[fev3rish]

PROMISES. kenji tots w/ v

kenji makes promises he knows he’ll keep.

cw. early relationship, kenji is too relatable with his issues, kenji thinks you’re stupid but in reality he’s the stupid self deprecating one, you DID infact change him

notes. i love you kenji sato. have dinner with me PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS EPELASE

thinking about kenji sato and how he first says ‘i love you.’

thinking about how he’s always talking, and how every one hangs on to his every word. thinking about how he’s so boisterous, and bold—about how he’s always so loud. thinking about how he was that way with you once too, when you weren’t anything to him but at best a means to an end. thinking about how he speaks with certainty, how he rarely lets his voice break. he never does. not in front of people.

kenji constantly has his guard up, always ready for the worst to happen—because it almost always does. then you come in, and his walls come crashing down on him as he tries to step back. he tries to distance himself, to leave, because if you’re too good to be true, then you’re too good for him to stay. he doesn’t want you to, but you do anyway. you place a hand on his cheek and tell him everything will be okay; he doesn’t have to do it alone. you’ll be there. you promise him, and he thinks you’re stupid. he thinks you’re stupid for wanting to stay with him, stupid for wanting to be with him, and you think he’s stupid for thinking of himself like that. you could be so much more, kenji tries to tell you—but you shut him down.

he remembers that day like it was yesterday—when you told him that “we could be so much more.”—when you told him that regardless of whether or not he wanted you to, you would stay. you place your hand on his cheek, and for the first time, his voice breaks in front of you. he’s quiet as you confess your love, because he doesn’t think he deserves it in the first place—but he does. you hold him close to your chest, and you tell him you love him. he is the last thought in your mind as you fall asleep, and he knows, and it makes him sick to his stomach. he doesn’t say i love you back, but in your slumber, he says all he’s wanted to say, and his words seep into your dreams.

“i’m… going to try. with you. i want to try with you.” he starts, squeezing his eyes shut because he hopes you don’t hear him—hopes you don’t wake up in the middle of it. “i can’t describe you as anything else but…ugh, that’s corny.” he stops himself, it’s too much—he wants to call you his, already—he wants to call you ‘mine.’

but he doesn’t, kenji wants you to be awake when he does. “that whole thing—the things you said, that was the first time someone spoke to me like that. the first time they didn’t just give up on me. that was so…new. you’re so new. you’re something else, i swear.” he scoffs, he finds it so weird he’s practically talking to himself—but when you love like someone, it can make you do crazy things. “you’re right. we can be so much more. and i want to be. i want to be so much more. i—i have a duty to be good, like.. a good person. i have so much i haven’t told you. but i will tell you. when i’m ready, and when you are, too. i have a duty to be as good to you as i am to the people… it might seem a bit weird—like i’m some sort of hero— but that’s not the point. i’ll help you understand soon. the point is i’ll definitely take care of you. i know you can take care of yourself, but i’ll be there to…”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. “i’ll be there to open your jars, and taste your new recipes… i’ll be there to brush your hair on days you can’t.” kenji continues, before taking his blanket and draping it over you. “—i’ll drape my blanket over you every night you fall asleep in this bed. make you coffee in the morning, too, because i know you wake up later than me.”

it’s like you’re taking his heart and squeezing it hard; he doesn’t want you to let go. he wants to say it back, to confess his fondness of you just as you did to him—but he can’t. he can’t say it, his mouth burns when he tries to—but he wants to. he settles on promises he knows he’ll keep, for as long as you’ll have him. slowly, his eyes shut—and his mouth opens up into a yawn. but he doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “i’ll definitely make you happy.”

you wake up to the sunlight pouring through the blinds and a bed that’s still warm, but already spacious. you turn and kenji is there, walking into the room with two cups of coffee and an uncharacteristically shy smile on his face. he greets you good morning, and as you ramble to him about your dream, quoting some points he made while you were asleep, he wants to tell you it wasn’t exactly all a dream. he wants to tell you what exactly he said, but he doesn’t. if he did, kenji would risk revealing things he can’t reveal. so he just listens to you; the sunlight hits your face just right, and your hair is messy but he’s not bothered by it. you’re annoyed, as your eyes get caught in the sun’s rays, and you crane your neck away, your hand shielding yourself from the brightness—and you’re so beautiful.

you might as well be the sun, with how you blind him whenever he looks at you—you nourish him, you give him energy, and you are what makes his day. you are the sun. he doesn’t know what he is, and he doesn’t even care. your every word is gospel, and he listens to it— to you—as if you’re a prophet. heavensent. divinely made. he wouldn’t be surprised if you were. if there’s anyone he wants to be listening to, it’s you.his mouth burns, but he’d be damned if he didn’t say it right now. you’re definitely the love of his fucking life; kenji has not been so certain in his life.

“i love you.”

you go silent, and then you let out the most happy little laugh— a big, big smile on your face.

the burn subsides as quick as it came.

[celeste-clearwater-06]

heartbeat (thorin oakenshield x female!modern! reader)

gif by me!!

desc. - reader puts her CPR lessons to good use when thorin's on the brink of death. (inspired by an imagine by @imaginexhobbit but make it sad🫶 also i listened to "farewell to dobby" while reading this, it adds so muchhh)

warnings - angst 💔

word count - 2.7k

For most of the time you’d been traveling with Thorin and his merry band of warriors, you could only account a few times you provided yourself useful to the group. Bofur was a whittler and toy maker, Oin a healer, Ori a scribe. Thorin and his sister-sons, the rightful heir to a kingdom. Even Bilbo had squeezed his way into a position of burglary, though he was hardly fit, and was still fighting to prove himself.

You?

A few stories around the campfire. Some questions answered about where you’d appeared from out of nowhere in particular. Mouth watering modern food recipes you babbled on about, over rabbit stew Bombur happily served on the cold nights on the road. And sure, you were getting good with a sword, but not nearly as skillful as the fearless fighter Dwalin.

You could see the malevolence and distaste in Thorin’s eyes when Gandalf decided for himself that you would make a fine addition to the group. After all, some otherworldly stranger happening upon them just as their fateful quest began was no coincidence. To him it meant something. But to the leader of the group? Danger? Deadweight? You couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, it settled behind his cold, steel-blue eyes and swelled whenever he watched you fail miserably at every task given.

You simply weren’t built for a world like this.

Thorin didn’t hate you. He wasn’t necessarily fond of you either. And how you longed to fit in, impress him maybe. Break past whatever tough exterior that he used to keep a distance between the two of you. Pushing too much would surely annoy him, so you opted to keep to yourself, sitting back and placing yourself near Gandalf and the witty Bilbo Baggins, who seemed to have walked a few miles in your own shoes. If he could wear them, that is. Hoping maybe one day the King under the mountain would come around. Maybe.

But now, soaring over the horizon of a morning sun and above the towering mountains, on the feathered back of a massive bird, Bilbo had proven himself in his bravery, and you were alone and useless in your skills.

You were seated atop the same eagle as the halfling, right behind another that carried Thorin’s limp body in its talons, wind and the worried cries of his nephews rushing through your hair and past your ears. Azog’s fight was not an easy one. Not that you could do much anyways, dangling uselessly from a blazing pine tree and fingers slipping from its scorching branches. But Thorin, ever the brave, was taken down quickly.

Thank the lord for Gandalf’s endless alliances.

Now, the eagles circled a plateau, oddly sticking out from above high treetops like a sore thumb, and began to descend to its slanted surface where each member of the company jumped off. Some destination this was, hundreds of feet off the ground. You’d think they might find a safer spot to land this band of underground dwelling travelers but beggars can’t be choosers. At least you were out of harm's way for the time being. The eagle you and Bilbo rode flew low enough for you to hop off and land safely on the cliff’s surface, then turn and see Thorin, unconscious and unmoving, set down gently in front of the rest of the group.

They all crowded around him, shouting and shaking his body vigorously, but to no avail. Your stomach dropped when you heard one of them mutter a word that sounded like “dead”.

You rushed over, just getting a few glimpses of his face from behind the heads of thick hair and heavy fur coats circling him like vultures, Bilbo at your heels and following in curiosity.

“He’s not breathing!”

“Thorin! Thorin, wake up!” A hand tapped on the side of his face.

You immediately began shouting to clear some room. The sea of worried dwarves parted for you, just enough room to sling your haversack off your shoulders and lean down on your knees, bringing an ear to his mouth. They were right. Not a breath to be heard. Nor a pulse, you discovered, after placing your fingers to the side of his cold neck.

“No…no no, no.”

The company shared confused mutters and looks, worry lines still etched like canyons in their faces as they watched you clamor to unclasp his thick cloak and pull away as much clothing as you could from his chest.

Now, you were no doctor. Not even a medical student for that matter. Just barely scraping by with an art degree and two, low paying part-time jobs back home. Wherever that was. But, thankfully, those required CPR lessons back in junior high suddenly came rushing back to you, and you were gonna put to the best use you could.

You locked your elbows, flattened your palms, and then hastily pressed against the brute of his firm chest. Mahal, it was stubborn, and the armored shirt between your hands and his heart was no help, but acting quickly spared no time for shedding any more of his clothes. Again and again you pressed, one, two, just how the instructor taught you with her quick tongue and loud voice.

“An even pace! You’re going to lose him!”

The recall made your head spin, especially considering it might have been a bit comedic at the time, trying to revive an armless mannequin on the tile floor of your classroom. But under the steady pressure of your palms was a real person, teetering on the edge of life and death.

Gandalf landed somewhere behind you, being the last to touch ground, but he was forgotten in the sea of deep voices asking what you could possibly be doing.

By the 16th compression, you were beginning to break a sweat. Twenty, twenty one…

“Lass… what are ya’ doing?” Bofur's voice, usually friendly and jovial, was a low and cowering one. His question left the rest of the group quiet. You heard, but you didn’t answer. That would be for later when this was over. Preferably with a happy ending.

Thirty.

You moved to pinch Thorin's nose shut, tilting his head just slightly off the ground with the other hand tangled in his hair and breathed into his open mouth.

Any and all bewildered muttering was lost on the focus you had, to watch for any movement in his relaxed face.

You breathed again, and then bent over to listen. Nothing.

Now things began to get more grave than you’d taken them before.

You moved back to begin compressions again, this time pressing harder and deeper against his heart. You lifted a forearm to wipe the sweat gathering on your brow.

In your class, you were supposed to take turns, and rotate when one got tired so they could properly compress. But this wasn’t class.

Thorin was beneath the weight of your hands and his face was losing color.

“Come on… come on Thorin.”

You lost count after the 19th shove downwards, adrenaline kicking in and tears blurring the corners of your eyes as Thorin convulsed.

A warm hand settled on your shoulder above.

“Lass… he-” you smacked it away, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach like fire that you spat out.

“No! No he’s not, n-not yet.”

Again, you breathed into his airway, heavy and even, like you were supposed to. You were doing everything right. So why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t he breathing?

This was the quietest you had ever heard the company. Only birds and the sound of your exhausted, heaving breaths and choking sobs floating in the cool morning air.

You moved back to compressions, starting again, one, two, three. You were begging him, hysterically pleading his unresponsive body to kick start back up.

“Please Thorin. Come on.”

Now tears rolled down the apple of your cheeks, warm and bothersome and blinding, falling over your hands and his clothes. Your arms ached at the now desperate shoving against his heart. You looked pathetic, like a widow begging for scraps of Thorin’s lifeline, something to get him through. The ground dug harshly into your knees, bruising and irritating them through the pants as they dully scraped with each movement.

Twenty two.

You were slowing down, growing weary and tired from the work. But it wasn’t good enough. At this point, with the silent stares, you knew that even the ever stubborn dwarves had lost hope for their leader some time ago. And you had too, but now you were already getting past the twenty-fifth press down. Curse the lot of them, just staring down at you with pity as you sniffed and wiped the snot and tears from your face. And curse the beauty of the morning sun peaking over the mountains, so regal and beautiful, and staring down at the morose show of a sad little human weeping to herself.

“Please… please, God you idiot. Running down there like that.”

A cry frogged its way out of the back of your throat, raspy and gurgling. You lift his head for the third time, sniffed in and then pushed your shaking breath as hard as you could manage, pulled away, then back down to press your quivering lips upon his cold ones and-

A breath. Soft and faint, just barely there, and it slightly cooled the tears on your face.

You froze, staring down at Thorin to see his eyes twitch just slightly underneath their lids. Another exhale fled him, his time much more apparent, and his brows furrowed as he stirred awake. The gasps and shouts from the company, scrambling over and circling him like they did before to help him up as he came to.

“He’s alive!”

“A miracle! Bless the Valor!”

You lifted yourself from the ground, onto your feet, but the shock of your attempts actually working, and exhaustion, just left you to stumble backwards onto your butt, crying harder than before, in relief and joy, nonetheless sobbing like your life depended on it. You gave into the fatigue of your muscles, the tiredness from the adrenaline, and exhaustion from your sobs, and fell onto your back, covering your eyes with a forearm with the other limply laying on the ground next to you. Bilbo kneeled next to you and laid his small hand over yours, watching as the king was pulled to his feet and grimacing at the noises of his jovial party celebrating with shouting and laughing.

“You did it,” The burglar said quietly, just enough for you to hear. It wasn’t just amazement in his voice, but reassurance. Something to ground you, like the warm squeeze of his hand.

You trembled, breaths coming in and out with a shiver.

Thorin’s dazed when you slowly sit up off the ground to look at him, swaying about and being jostled as each excited dwarf embraced and jumped around him, and an arm shouldered over Kìli’s to keep his balance.

“You were dead.” Dwalin’s normally stony, hard-set face, was graced with the most horrified look you’d ever seen in your life, eyes widened and brows twisted upwards in awe. That seemed to settle everyone down enough, and shake Thorin from the rest of his stupor. Once again, the world around you was blessed with silence that you hadn’t gotten a taste of since you arrived. It was short lived.

“Dead?” Thorin asked, incredulous and confused.

“Ye’ weren’t breathing lad!” Gloin chimed in, “we thought you were gone!”

The king’s eyes narrow, and shift between the members of his party, blinking away a head rush.

“How is that possible?” The second set of words he’d spoken since he screamed Azog’s name. Thorin’s voice was low and rasping. He slowly turned, following the astounded, wide-eyed stares from the surrounding dwarves, boring into you like you were some God.

You sniffled, wiping at your reddened, runny nose with the sleeve of your shirt.

He lifted a jeweled hand to graze over his heart, where you were reviving him, just staring at the sad sight of your tearful eyes.

“She saved ya’, Thorin,” Balin’s voice is serious and somber, breaking the silence, “Brough’ ya’ back from near death. Mahal knows how.”

Thorin’s eyes grew sharp, brows furrowing and piercing into you, where you pulled yourself to sit on your knees. His fingers tightened around the cloth where his hand laid, clutching at his chest.

“You,” he gruffed, “You did this?”

“I-I… I didn’t know if it was gonna work.” Your throat tightened and squeezed. Great, even more tears flowed down your face. Thorin’s eyes held the same glint that made your stomach twist with embarrassment and shame. The least he could do is offer a nod of gratitude towards you. Instead, he tore free from the group, ripping his arm away off his nephew’s shoulder and stumbling towards you like a drunken fool, with thudding footsteps.

Dwalin calls after him uselessly, just hanging back and letting the scene play out.

When he stops in front of you, eyes firey and broad chest heaving breaths in and out, standing a few inches over where you’re knelt, all you can do is try not to look away. You’re glad you hadn’t.

A boa-tight grip took hold of your heart and tightened when you saw his features soften, worry lines and crow's feet disappearing in the appearance of a small, incredulous smile. His softened eyes lined themselves with the hint of tears catching like jewels in the morning sun. Thorin dropped down to his knees to meet your height in a hug that you could never have prepared yourself for. You freeze for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Thorin, fearless, merciless, King Under the Mountain was hugging, no, embracing you, with the force of a thousand winds and strength of ten thousand men, because he was alive, thanks to you. And you hugged him back, pulling closer than you already were, and grasping at the back of his shirt and cried into his shoulder. The dwarves cheered in excitement behind Thorin. Through the yelling and praise, you can hear Thorin’s low voice next to your ear.

“I cannot repay this deed. Thank you.”

You pull away to see the kindest, warmest smile your eyes had ever been blessed to lay upon. It knocked the breath from your lungs. The corners of his eyes and the arch of his nose wrinkled upwards. It suited his face much more than the cold and stoic stares he was prone to.

“I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.” Was all you could huff out.

“Yet I did. I misunderstood you greatly.” Thorin wiped a tear from the side of your face, “You make a member of this group. My life is indebted to you. And you,”

He peered over your shoulder at a wide-eyed Bilbo Baggins, standing just past your shoulder. You helped him stand from the ground, arm linked in his to meet the hobbit.

“You nearly got yourself killed,” he slipped free from your arm, and started toward Bilbo, just as he did you. “Did I not say you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild?”

Your face fell, akin to Bilbo’s solemn look. He stood there, taking the string of insults like a punching bag.

“That you had no place amongst us?”

And then he pulled the hobbit in just as he did you.

“I have never been so wrong, in all my life.”

Your heart reeled, and this time you smiled along with the rest of the company’s rejoices, watching the surprised grin spread across Bilbo’s face. Thorin pulled away.

“I am sorry I doubted you.”

“No, no. I would have doubted me, too.”

A hand planted itself on your shoulder, and you turned to look at Gandalf and his sagely smile.

“You’ve made yourself quite the home in these dwarves' hearts, young lady,” he said. It was comedic, the way his silvery hair and beard dramatically blew in the wind, “Perhaps once this has settled, you stay with them. I think you’d find yourself more than welcome in Erebor’s Halls.”

You hummed in thought. The band of travelers were gathered on the edge of the plateau, looking out in the distance towards the peak of the Lonely Mountain, calling their name through the mist.

Thorin turned back to look at you over his shoulder with a gentle smile, and nodded his head to you in a silent thanks. The ghost of a blush spread across his face.

“I just might.”

(aaaaaah! what did you guys think??? :3 it feels wonderful to get a full fic out after so long, ive had this idea in my head for dayyys ugh 💔 please send me some requests loves, i'm in desperate need of some comfort fics! don't forget to reblog and like!! love yas! 🩷🌺🌸🌷💝💞)

tag list : @kumqu4t @tolkien-fantasy @blueberryrock @to-be-frank-i-dont-care @luna-xial @legolaslovely @fizzyxcustard @pistachiozombie @imaginexhobbit @beenovel

[moonstruckme]

Ok James but him and his slytherin girlfriend seem to come out of nowhere and the boys are supportive but are more mad at James for not telling them? Idk I loved your other fic SO MUCH

Thanks for requesting <3

part 1

cw: mention of injury, no details or anything though

James Potter x Slytherin!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You hesitate outside the doorway to the infirmary at the raised voices coming from inside. 

You don’t need to be here, strictly speaking. James told you his injury wasn’t bad, and he has his friends to help him if he needs it, but…you can’t settle yourself down. You hadn’t liked the way he’d limped off the field, nor the tiny grimace on his face when Sirius had wrapped a bracing arm under his shoulders. It would be just like James to downplay how hurt he is to make you feel better, and the longer the game had gone on without him the more your guts twisted themselves into knots over the idea that he was in pain. 

You’d seethed at yourself and your stupid soft heart all the way to the infirmary, where now you’re frozen just outside like a coward. Something inside you is coiled tight with tension at the idea of going to see James Potter, on purpose and in public, even though that’s dumb because now everyone at Hogwarts knows about the two of you anyway. Your sappy display on the quidditch pitch made sure of that. But now that you have official and widely-known claim to the girlfriend title, you have just as much right to see him as anyone else. You shove your anxiety back into your stomach where it belongs and open the door. 

As soon as you’re inside, the voices become clearer. “—like this isn’t a big deal. The Prophet’s going to be all over the two of you by tomorrow, and we had to find out with every other fucking bloke at the school!”

“Pads, you don’t think I would have told you if I could?” James sounds exhausted, and something mutinous throbs in your heart. It’s followed quickly by the more familiar twinge of irritation at the use of those moronic nicknames they all have. “She made me promise not to tell anyone, including the both of you.” 

They’re talking about you. Of course they’re talking about you. What else could possibly be more important after James has fallen a good twenty feet off his broom than his dating life? This is why you hadn’t wanted to tell people. Hogwarts wears away at private lives like dementors at souls, and the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin is too strong for your relationship with James to have any hope of remaining untainted once the gossip mill got ahold of it. 

Your instincts are screaming at you to turn around and leave before they catch sight of you, but you force yourself to keep walking. If you start letting what people think about you and James affect you now, you’ll never be able to get past it. 

Remus is the first to spot you, going still as if you’ve come to hex him, but James’ face splits into a lopsided grin that has the knots in your gut loosening very slightly. 

“Especially you,” you say to Sirius as you brush past him, perching by James' pillow and weaving your fingers into his curls. There’s a wrap around his middle. It’s very hard to appear calm and blasé when you feel like you’re going to rupture something if he doesn't promise you he’s okay right this instant. “You’d have had all of Gryffindor talking about us within an hour.” 

Sirius bristles but visibly shoves his temper aside, his voice matching your coolness as he says, “If I’d told anyone, Y/L/N, it would have been to inquire about whether anyone’s noticed you gathering ingredients for amortentia recently. James doesn’t keep things from us. Artificial infatuation is the only explanation for why he’d tolerate you and your secrets.” 

“Oi,” James says, but you pat his head placatingly. You can fight your own battles. 

“That how you got this one?” you jut your chin towards Remus, who’s looking somewhat entertained as he watches the two of you spar. “If I’m ever in need of the recipe, Black, you’ll be the first person I come to, but I don’t need to resort to such measures myself.” 

Sirius glowers at you, and James sets his hand on your shoulder just as Remus wraps a pacifying arm around his boyfriend. “Alright, I think that’s enough,” the taller boy says in his usual calm manner, and though Sirius is still tensed for a fight, he allows himself to be drawn into Remus’ side.

James nods in agreement. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys, really. I thought I’d get a chance to before everyone found out, but…” He turns up his palms helplessly. “Things didn’t go as planned.” 

“We’ll get over it,” Remus says, Sirius quietly fuming beside him. “Won’t we, love?”

Sirius looks up at Remus' face, which is clearly a mistake, because he softens like butter in the sun. “Yeah, yeah, just gimme a bit,” he grumbles halfheartedly. “Anything to keep our Prongsie happy, right?”

James beams, so clearly relieved at the settlement of the conflict that you feel a bit guilty for participating in it. He kisses you on the cheek, chuckling against your skin. “You stink.” 

“Some of us stuck around to play the whole game,” you reply.

“Ouch,” James says, but he’s grinning. “Couldn’t really help that, could I?”

You give him a look to let him know you haven’t forgotten how his negligence had gotten him hurt. “Debatable.” 

You hear Remus chuckle but don’t take your eyes off James’ face, inspecting it for signs of the pain you suspect he’s hiding. “How bad is it really?” you ask, softening your voice even though there’s no chance of his friends not hearing you. 

James worries his lip, big brown eyes looking into yours guiltily. “Pomphrey says I broke three ribs and bruised my tailbone pretty badly. Minor concussion, too, but nothing serious.” 

Sounds serious enough to you. You ghost a hand over the back of his head as if you’ll be able to find and fix his hurt. He leans into your palm though, so it’s not for nothing. “I’m sorry I walked away out there,” you all but whisper. “I should have stayed with you.” 

James eyebrows pinch together. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he promises just as softly. He knows what it costs you to talk like this in front of people, like you’re turning yourself inside out for them to judge and stab at as they please, but James has no such reservations. He dots a kiss, feather-light, at the top of your cheekbone, wrapping an arm around you protectively. “Thanks for coming, I mean it.” 

You clear your throat. “Yeah, and in my fucking quidditch gear,” you say in your normal voice, attempting to banish the heavy mood. As if your heart isn’t still beating, hummingbird-fast and fragile, in your throat. “We both need to change and shower, and then you should rest. Did Pomphrey say you could leave?”

James nods, still looking at you like you’ve cracked open in his hands (he might be right; it feels like you have, and it wouldn’t even be the first time today). He rubs your upper arm affectionately, but his voice is easygoing when he says, “Yup, I’m good to go.” 

Sirius steps forward, as though to remind the two of you that he is, in fact, also present. “Great. We’ll walk you back to the room.” 

You turn to him, not quite ready for your time with James to be up and aching for the opportunity to dote on him in private. “That’s okay, I can take him.” 

Sirius’ eyes narrow. “You can’t even get into our dorms.” 

“Please, like Gryffindor’s riddles are so perplexing.” 

“I don’t need an escort,” James interjects. He pushes himself up with a grimace. 

You halt him with your hands on his shoulders and Remus says, “Don’t be stupid, Prongs, you can barely walk.” 

“I’ve got him,” you say firmly. Sirius stares you down, but you don’t flinch from his stony gaze. You know he doesn’t trust you. You don’t think he’d willingly trust any Slytherin. Since you’ve been at Hogwarts, the talk in your house has always been that Sirius Black shuns his family because they’re all Slytherins. Although James assures you there’s more to the story than that, it’s still obvious to anyone that he considers his friends his true family. He won’t entrust just anyone with James’ safety. But maybe that’s one thing you can agree upon. 

He must see something of this in your face, because after a minute Sirius relents, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he says. “I wanted to stop by the kitchens anyway.”

James is looking between the two of you curiously, aware that something has transpired but not quite sure what. 

You don’t give Sirius a chance to change his mind. “Alright,” you say, gripping James' forearms and helping him to stand. “Let’s go, pretty boy.” 

James drapes his arm across your shoulders gamely, and the two of you start out the door. “I don’t think that’s the insult you think it is.”

[m1d-45]

i love your sagau/imposter au fics so much (esp kazuha’s),, do you think nahida would be able to sense if the creator isnt an imposter because of her having access to Irminsul and being able to see if there are records of them? anyways okok so uh hear me out, maybe the creator tries to seek safety in sumeru while they’re being hunted? sorry if this is a lengthy ask ekwjkwm anyways thanks for reading, ur amazing !

sandy refuge

word count: 3.4k

-> warnings: spoilers for the final sumeru archon quest

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

sumeru was a deadly nation.

liyue was guarded by the adepti, and inazuma’s storms tore the sea around the archipelago to shreds, but sumeru…

sumeru, the land of wisdom, headed by academics and led by scholars and sages. the nation split in two, lush forests barely a stones throw from barren deserts, believers of two (three?) separate gods walking side by side through the city. for a nation so divided, it was rare to get everybody to agree on something, every decision inevitably and invariably leaving some group of people unsatisfied.

and yet, there they were, united under one flag. eremites and the matra, the beige robes of the desert dwellers shifting in the wind besides the glittering armor of the akademiya’s soldiers, spears and swords aligned towards the same target.

it would be beautiful, if only you weren’t the one they rallied against.

you didn’t know how long you had been running when you managed to work your way past the wall, nor how long you had managed to stumble across sand dunes before finding your current oasis.

literally. trees swayed around a large pool of clear water, thick grass cushioning your knees as you barely hesitated before cupping some in your hands and drinking. it was blessedly cool, and you were tempted to swim in it and let it soothe the continuous heat from the desert sun. sadly, you didn’t have a spare set of clothes, and you weren’t keen on stripping when the matra could storm the place at any moment.

or the eremites. or the corp of thirty. or literally anybody else, since you’ve apparently been declared public enemy number one.

you splashed some water on your face and over your head, goosebumps rising where a drop raced beneath the collar of your shirt. how water was so cold when the sand was so hot, you didn’t know, but you weren’t going to complain.

after drinking a few more handfuls of the water, you finally looked around. there was a large spire of stone next to the oasis, flanked by large trees, with a thankfully abandoned hilichurl hut beside it.

you try not to think about how an archer would have had an easy shot as you were drinking.

at the base of a few of the trees is something green, and you remember the nuts that grew in the desert. you were too wary of the henna berries and the cacti they grew on to try and eat those, but you distinctly remember these being used in a few recipes.

all you could do was hope they were edible raw.

you stood—your vision blurred, the ground tilting, but you ignored it—and walked around the oasis, inspecting the green and hoping it wasn’t a fungus.

good news, it wasn’t. bad news, it was the husk of one of the nuts, hollow without any of the fruit inside. fresh, by the looks of it, the green leaves squishing instead of crumbling when you kicked at them.

great.

you sat on the curved trunk of one of the trees, holding up a hand to shade your eyes as you looked up. you could see another nut, hanging off the top of a tree, but.. the bark of the trees were smooth, and any of your athletic abilities were worn away by exhaustion and malnutrition.

you let your head drop and tried not to focus on your hunger, instead inspecting the mix of sand and grass beneath your feet. sand and grass. all of sumeru, represented right at your feet. hot, slippery sand, and cool, spiky grass. the desert and the forest, two wildly different ecosystems, and yet… both drove you out.

you tried not to cry, to push away the helplessness of the situation, but you couldn’t. what had you done, you wondered, for your very face to cause such an uproar? for two separate groups of people, divided in location, name, and faith to ally in their shared hatred of you? if somebody asked you what the millelith, matra, and eremites had in common about six months ago, you couldn’t have answered. you’d have thought about it, maybe, but drawn a blank outside of ‘defenders.’

but what were they defending? and how were you a threat?

when the first tear fell, so did something else.

you jumped at the dense thud, digging your nails—overgrown, bitten at, broken—into the bark as you searched for the source of the noise.

a large fruit had fallen, the one you were eyeing earlier by the looks of it. it sat atop the empty husk of another, magically fallen from the tree by seemingly nothing.

you weren’t going to complain.

you slid off the tree, reaching for the nut, grabbing the stem and pulling, but dropped it just as fast. a fungus was standing just behind it, large orange eyes looking up at you.

you were frozen. would it attack you? was it trying to eat? did they even need to? could you get sick from fungus spores? even if you couldn’t, getting hurt wasn’t worth the meal…

the fungus tilted to one side, then the other, bumping the large fruit towards you.

it… was giving it back?

you stared, but the fungus didn’t move. when you carefully tugged at the nut, slowly drawing it closer so you could properly pick it up, it didn’t move. it just watched you, the rim of its cap slightly falling into its eyes.

you sat back on the tree, pulling it into your lap. the outer leaves were coarse, softening as you pulled away the many layers. there was a high chance some of the inner leaves were edible, but you didn’t want to take chances. the fruit itself was a pale green, easily tearing under your fingers. it was soft, with the barest edge of sweetness that had you prying up more. it wouldn’t make for a full meal, but it was certainly far better than nothing.

you checked on the fungus every once in a while, but it just stood there. by your guess, it was the floating anemo kind, but where was its group? fungi rarely appeared alone, and part of you felt bad.

(felt bad. for a fungus. you’re in dirty, torn clothes and on the run for your life, and you still find the empathy for a fungus. at least you knew your morals were still intact.)

you offered a piece of the nut to the fungus, but it didn’t react. instead it turned, floating into the air and drifting away.

…alright.

you try to eat the fruit slowly, as to not make yourself sick, taking breaks to sip more water from the lake to dim the sweetness. you didn’t know how long the fruit would stay good now that you’d opened it, but you were trying to enjoy it. its not as if you were overflowing with excess, and you likely couldn’t linger here long. you don’t even know why you resorted to the desert anyway.. between cyno, the ruins, scorpions, the primal constructs.. to say it was dangerous was an understatement. even if you made it to the far west, the pari were there, and you didn’t think they would take too kindly to you. fontaine wouldn’t be much better, provided you somehow crossed the sea around it…

nowhere was safe. you supposed that was the point, that nobody would give you refuge, but it still hurt. you didn’t think you’d ever land in this situation when you first downloaded the game..

whatever. you’re not going to go down that path for the nth time. you hold the remains of the nut in one arm as you stand, picking off chunks as you walk toward the hilichurl hut. with any luck there would be something useful inside, or at least be a safe place to rest temporarily.

the camp looks like it’s been clear recently, which is both good and bad. good, because neither hilichurls nor patrols should come by here for a bit, but bad because it lowers your chances of finding anything useful. there’s no arrowheads or vegetables, not even embers in the fire pit, all the supply boxes long since broken.

at least it’s shelter. at least you had food today, and (hopefully) clean water. small wins, small wins…

you gather your strength and begin to drag all the rubble into the hut, using what was left of their training dummies to make a hollow pile. hopefully it would just look like trash to anyone walking by, and could maybe keep you warm. the scraps of furs littered over the camp were matted with something you didn’t want to think about, so this was your best bet.

man, you missed your bed.

you returned to the oasis for more water, scrubbing off some of the dirt from your arms and face. you wouldn’t be clean for long, what with the dirt floor you’d picked as your shelter, but it felt nice. a topical fix for a bone deep wound.

you didn’t try to clean your clothes, eyeing the sun dipping in the sky. having wet clothes wouldn’t help at night, even if it might feel good. perhaps tomorrow? yes, tomorrow. tomorrow you could scrub at your shirt—*blood doesn’t clean easily without soap*—and try to undo some of the knots in your hair, maybe even use leaves and some of the scraps of twine around the camp to bring some water with you.

tomorrow. you got this. surely.

(just ignore the fact that you don’t know where in the desert you are. or how easy it would be to get lost, or dehydrate. nope. this is a perfectly fine and normal situation that you have an okay amount of control over. you got this. you have to.)

you return to the hut, retrieving the other half of your fruit and taking it with you into your pitiful shelter. at least you didn’t have to worry about rain…

it was only slightly cramped beneath the pile of junk, but you had enough room for you and your food. you laid there for a long time, occasionally peeling off pieces to eat. you didn’t know how much was left, and you didn’t think about it, distracting yourself by thinking about tomorrow. if you were clever with some sticks you could fashion some wider soles for your shoes to get more grip on the sand, or maybe a hat to keep from burning… but there was water and food to worry about, but the area along the wall was certainly dangerous, but it might be worth it if it meant you lived a little longer…

you fell asleep at some point, the faint sweetness of your dinner lingering on your tongue.

normally, waking up to someone barely a foot from your person would be unsettling. in your situation, it was terrifying.

you immediately pushed yourself back, crawling backwards away from nahida. she was kneeling, seeming surprised at your actions. you almost wondered how she was out here, and in your survey of the area, it clicked.

you weren’t in the hut anymore. you’d missed it in your fear, but you were lying on grass, in a small meadow. you didn’t pay too much attention to it though, putting a hand to your chest to try and calm your heart.

“just a dream,” you breathed, and nahida’s expression fell. not into anger, more.. sadness?

“i’m sorry if i startled you.” her voice was soft, but flat, motions stiff as she stood up and dusted off her dress.

what a weird dream. first you’re lucid, then she’s here… maybe it was wishful thinking. maybe your brain had finally had enough.

“it’s fine,” you said, taking another look around the field. tall trees arched high above you, the bushes and ferns between them reminding you of the rainforest. in the center were three chairs, with various plates laid out on the table between them. you stood, automatically wiping for any grass caught on you, only to find that you were actually wearing clean clothes again—one of your favorite outfits, actually.

you mostly ignored nahida as you walked to the table, looking over the various dishes. you recognized a few as sumeru recipes, but not all of them, deciding to pick at a bowl of fruit instead. you’re not sure how dreams work here—you haven’t had many since coming to teyvat—but it feels safer to stick with a food you’ve actually tried before.

(you ignore the nut from the oasis. calculated risk.)

“i hope they’re to your liking?” nahida’s voice is hesitant as she comes to your side, sitting in one of the chairs. you don’t do the same.

“i’m surprised i remember so many of these,” you say instead, looking over the sheer variety of food laid out. your subconscious has done well.. almost a bit too well.

“eat. you need the energy.”

“i’ll just miss them in the morning, and it’s not like they’ll give me any actual nutrition.”

“…please, my god.”

your head whips to her in an instant, the fruit falling from your hand as if it was poison. it could be, considering everything.

even after all these months, you’d let your guard down. in front of the one god who had control over dreams, you ate of her food and showed that you were weak.

nahida raises her hands, and you have half a mind to grab a knife off the table. it wouldn’t do anything, but it would make you feel better. “it’s just me. there’s nobody else in this dream.”

you should have known better. “leave me alone.”

“i mean you no harm, i only-“

you put your hands over your ears and close your eyes, trying to make yourself wake up. you pictured the walls of the hut, of your makeshift shelter and the leaves of last night’s dinner. you pretend you can’t hear her voice, that the only sound is the whisper of the wind.

if only you’d remembered her powers quicker, or perhaps discovered yours sooner.

you don’t know how long it took you to break free from the dream, or if you managed to break it at all. you just knew that you woke up to the sounds of talking from outside your hut, the words were faint but still discernible from the wind. two voices, one soft and one rough, picking their way around the oasis.

you didn’t dare try to run, instead shifting some of the wood in your pile to cover the entrance. where could you even go if they found you? west was dangerous, east was deadly, north led you into either a sandstorm or a dead-end sea, and south was entirely uncharted, and that was assuming you even made it that far.

they came closer, and you reached for one of the smaller planks in your small shelter. it was still about the length of your forearm, and though the rest of the stack shifted, you felt a bit safer. maybe you could hide in a cave for a while until they left? no, that would mean you’d have to get enough of a lead to lose them, and you doubted you could run that fast.

“-abandoned.” there was a sound like a rock kicked against the side of the hut, covering the sound of your breath as you recognized the voice. “you sure this is the right place?”

wanderer.

“i’m certain, i saw it myself.”

and nahida. she probably tapped into your mind to see where you were trying to wake up to… it would be clever if your life wasn’t on the line.

footsteps drew ever closer, and it was getting hard to judge the distance. the hut was empty save for your little scrap pile, but how close was too close? could you even have a chance with wanderer’s skill? not to mention the dendro archon…

maybe you were doomed from the start. there was no good ending for you, just a constant delay of the fate that you dodged when you first set foot on this planet.

how long has it been? how much time have you borrowed? teyvat had ghosts, would you become one? would you return to earth? did your earth even exist anymore? this was not the time for this debate…

a shadow moved, and nahida’s voice was far closer than it was before. “divine one?”

you bit your cheek as to not laugh. ‘divine one.’ she already had a god, the one that had ordered this mess to begin with. the first person you ran into, ironically, who had on sight declared you a criminal. you didn’t want to be associated with that person at all, thank you. did she think that you thought you were the god? you wouldn’t be hiding if you did.

“buer. you’re talking to a pile of sticks.”

“i’m aware.” her voice grew quieter, like she’d turned around. “but we need to be patient.”

“there’s an easier way to do this, you know.”

“after all that’s happened? there’s no easy solution to this.”

“that’s not what i…” he sighed. “can i show you something?”

“what is it?”

the air hissed, your pile broken by a blade of wind down the middle. the anemo curved around you, acting as a shield as the wood splintered and flew. you quickly pushed yourself up, sitting against the wall and looking between the two of them. nahida looked terrified, and the shock on wanderer’s face is comical. looks like he didn’t expect you to actually be in there.

he removed his hat from his head, quickly dropping to one knee, nahida doing the same barely a moment after. “my god.. i apologize for my haste.”

pardon?

nahida lifted her head, meeting your eyes with a hand to her chest. “and i’m sorry for invading your dream earlier. i just wanted to find you, and when i noticed you were in sumeru..”

wanderer is too prideful to apologize to anybody he doesn’t absolutely need to, even for a plan.. jut what’s going on here?

you fix your attention on nahida and hope she’s not a good liar. “don’t you already have a god you follow?”

nahida flinched, looking away. “that… was a mistake. i should have trusted my instincts, and for that i’m sorry. i had no idea that my silence would lead to this…”

either she’s a really convincing actor, or she means it. given the severity of the situation, you don’t want to assume.

“if it helps…” wanderer’s hands tighten on his hat, and he bows his head further. “my anemo protected you. even if i did mean to cause harm, that is more than enough proof of your identity.”

“…so i’m supposed to believe you? just like that?”

nahida shook her head. “i understand your apprehension. it’s hard to trust someone after everyone else has betrayed you, and i don’t expect you to come with me to the sanctuary right away. aaru village is close by, though, and i was hoping you would be willing to go there..?”

some part of you still thinks it’s a trick, that there would be a swarm of matra waiting for you. but honestly… running is tiring, and nahida is kind. you want to believe her, even if it does end up going poorly. what else do you have to lose, really?

you drop your poor excuse for a weapon, briefly checking your hands for splinters before standing up. you kick aside the remains of your dinner and dust yourself off, walking forward. “alright. i’ll go with you.”

nahida beams.

[pnghoon]

clay impressions

PARK SUNGHOON [성훈] ── 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

୨୧ pairing : !nonidol hoon x fem potter!reader ꒰wc : 590꒱

୨୧ genre + content warnings : fluff, slight skinship, not proof read

୨୧ synopsis : in which sunghoon, the new guy in town spots a pottery club and joins because of the pretty girl he saw mentoring in the window.

writer's note ─ what the...juno's first ever work that isn't c.ai bot related??? this must be a dream.. (hehe im joking) anyways enough with the sarcasm--I finally decided to upload this story that's been in my drafts for a while. ik it's not what you're usually used to but lmk what you think of it and if I should continue >< if you enjoyed reading it, please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

sunghoon hadn’t planned on joining a pottery club. in fact, he hadn’t planned on much beyond unpacking his boxes and finding the nearest coffee shop. but as he mindlessly wandered down the charming main street of his new small town, something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

the large window in front of the small building cramped between a bookstore and a bakery offered a glimpse of what lay inside: clay-covered hands shaping a delicate piece, laughter echoing softly, and cozy lighting. but what truly captivated sunghoon was the girl behind the wheel. her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few stray strands framing her face as she concentrated on the clay piece in front of her. she looked like a masterpiece in the making, even with all those smudged beige streaks on her cheeks.

without thinking twice and perhaps blindly urged by his smitten heart, sunghoon pushed open the door, the bell above chiming cheerfully. he approached the counter, trying to appear casual as he signed up for a beginner's class.

the next day, he found himself sitting in a circle of eager faces, dressed casual in a stone grey knit zip up—clay ready at hand. his heart raced when the girl from the window stepped forward, your features even more captivating in person.

"hi, everyone! i'm y/n, and i'll be your mentor for today.”

sunghoon's attempts at crafting anything remotely vase-like were laughable. his first piece looked like it had been crafted by a particularly enthusiastic toddler, another imaging more of a lopsided pancake recipe gone wrong. so—maybe pottery wasn’t his thing. he glanced around, hoping no one noticed, only to lock eyes with none other than you. you smiled, a glint of amusement in your eyes as you made your way over to him.

"need some help?" you asked, your voice warm and gentle.

"very. turns out pottery isn't my hidden talent," sunghoon replied with a soft sigh and bashful smile, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

you chuckled, your laugh like music to his ears. "don’t worry, you're here to learn right? let's start from the basics.”

as you slowly guided his hands with your own clay covered ones, sunghoon couldn't help but notice the spark in her eyes, the way your fingers danced with the clay like it was meant to be sculpted and formed with your delicate digits. through your gentle ministration and shared laughter, his lump of clay began to take shape, though it still resembled a vase only in the most generous sense.

by the end of the class, sunghoon had a crooked pot he was oddly proud of and a heart that felt a bit fuller. you handed him a wet cloth to clean his hands.

“not bad for your first try,” you spoke out, nudging him with your elbow as you stared down at your clay-stained apron. “with a bit more practice, you might even make something useful.”

sunghoon grinned, feeling a flutter of hope. “i guess i’ll just have to keep coming back then.”

you couldn’t help but crack a smile at his words, eyes sparkling with amusement. “i guess you will.”

and as he left the studio that day—he swore he saw your gaze on him through the window. suddenly moving to this small town felt like the best decision he’d ever made, and if learning pottery meant more time with you, he was more than ready to become the next great potter.

or, at the very least, the guy who made you laugh.

𝓢igning off... @penghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni

[twiishaa]

sanji x reader ; wc 1.4k warnings again i shat this out at 3am and there are parts i’m not too happy with but i think it’s okay as a whole <3 tiny tiny bit of angst if you squint?? fem!reader <3 here’s my masterlist!

it had only been a few weeks since you joined the straw hats’ crew. to leave your home and everything you’ve known behind to pursue a life on the sea, on the run from the world government on a whim was a big decision, but you didn’t regret it. being part of such a lively crew made it worth it, you guys were like a family already.

but they didn’t need to know you did it partly because the blond cook of theirs was kinda…

anyways. that can stay between you and me <3

it was the middle of the night, and you finally sat up after hours of not being able to sleep. maybe it was the humidity on the ship, or maybe it was the small, lingering homesick feeling you had. you drowsily made your way to the deck, the slightly salty wind waking you up a little. now that you were out of your room, it was homesickness that was keeping you awake. you hadn’t felt homesick these past weeks, why were you feeling it now? this had been everything you were dreaming of—adventure, fun, and friends you knew you’d go to the end of the grand line for, even though you’d only known them a quarter of the time they’d known each other.

oh.

was homesickness that feeling you felt sometimes, when everyone was laughing together?

you cast your mind back to the time you’d feel sad at home. your mum would be able to sense your mood from rooms away and bake you blueberry muffins. after eating them, you’d forget about your worries and give your mum a cheery smile, whether covered in blueberry juice and crumbs or not. and so, you made your way to the kitchen, hoping that baking some blueberry muffins now would cure your loneliness, despite the ungodly hour.

hopefully sanji won’t mind... 

remembering the recipe from some corner in the back of your mind was proving to be a much more difficult task than you anticipated, paired with the unfamiliarity of the ship’s kitchen. to be honest, you were having fun! it was like a game, which drawer will the wooden spoon be in? not long after, the batter was complete and distributed into their muffin cases. it was a miracle you found everything; however, that didn’t mask the moderately large mess that had built up over the course of baking the muffins. fond memories of your mum walking through the door to find you covered in flour and your lips stained with blueberry juice flooded back to you; you felt at home again, even if you weren’t physically. not long after you cleaned the counter and put the muffins in the oven, the comforting smell of fresh muffins filled the kitchen, and you took a step back to admire your work. your spirits were definitely lifted. maybe blueberry muffins are the solution to most problems.

meanwhile, in sanji’s room (room??? quarter????? wherever he’s sleeping, please just roll with it), he was awakened by the light scent of… blueberry muffins? he rolled over to check the time. nobody could be possibly be baking something at such a time… maybe he was still dreaming. nonetheless, he groggily got up just to confirm his suspicion—to make sure that no one had broke onto the ship… and decided to bake blueberry muffins… or something.

as sanji approached the kitchen, he noticed the lights were on, and a figure standing right in front of the oven.

oh?

now he was concerned. the figure was… a girl?

what? this is one strange dream… he thought to himself.

when he could finally distinguish that it was, in fact, a girl, and that it was you, of all people, he was just confused. he leaned against the doorframe, observing how you were looking at the oven like you were watching over a child. from this angle, he could make out that you were making blueberry muffins.

“what do we have here, hm? why are you up so late, [name]?”

you screamed in response, then swiftly covered your mouth as you remembered the time.

sanji chuckled. “hello to you too,” his look still conveyed sheer confusion, but he was somewhat enjoying it now.

you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, both from embarrassment and that your secret crush, of sorts, was talking to you.

the fact that it was the middle of the night as you were baking muffins in his kitchen without asking him was irrelevant. sanji was talking to you!

you laughed nervously. “I just woke up in the middle of the night and I… really wanted blueberry muffins… so I decided to bake some…” he looked at you, evidently quite amused.

“sorry if I messed up your kitchen! or if you don’t like people using it or something.. I should have asked you before…” you trailed off timidly.

sanji laughed again, before moving to lean on the counter beside you. “It’s fine, honestly! besides, I didn’t know you bake, how come you’ve never said anything about it?”

lies.

usually, sanji was very particular with who touches the equipment in the kitchen, but he could let it slide for a pretty girl like you, or so he thought.

what you didn’t know is that your little crush was mutual—sanji had his eye on you,

not in a stalker-ish way, no!

—ever since he saw you when the crew stayed on your island. since then, he gradually started to become less and less flirty as he used to around nami and nico robin, even if you didn’t notice. he really only had eyes for you, following you around the ship as best as he could without looking like a weirdo. it was bad, he was down bad for you. by some power of the gods, you hadn’t noticed yet. everyone had noticed—even zoro, who took the opportunity to tease him every second he got; sanji was so down bad that he didn’t mind being teased about it. he did become aware of your lingering stares from time to time, but for the sake of his sanity, he just pretended he didn’t see anything and looked away, because if your eyes met you would see how flustered he actually was.

“oh, no, I don’t bake often! my mum taught me this recipe and I make it when I feel… lonely , or I don’t know, I think I just missed the taste of them.” you replied. sanji’s expression turned into one of worry. was there something wrong?

“no, no! it’s not you guys, I just… it’s my first time being away for so long, it’s just different to anything ive done before, and I just want comfort in something that I know… I probably make no sense right now..” you quickly added.

sanji shook his head. “no, I get it. doing something different is scary, and I think you’re really brave, [name].” he gave you a reassuring smile.

you blushed a little, but sanji caught sight of it and his eyes widened a little, before laughing. that little interaction was enough to confirm there was something between the two of you, but maybe the middle of the night wasn’t the best time to confront it…

beeeeeep!

the two of you were interrupted by the timer going off, indicating that the muffins were done. by now, the scent of blueberry muffins was overflowing in the kitchen, causing the two of you to laugh. as you went to take them out of the oven, sanji stopped you abruptly.

“let me do it; I wouldn’t want you to get burnt,” he took the gloves from you and took the muffins out, placing them on the counter.

damn. they looked better than you thought they would.

while the muffins were cooling, you and sanji continued your conversation from earlier, but now there was something in the air other than the smell of blueberry muffins. all of sanji’s responses had a warmer tone to them, maybe because he knew that you felt the same way, or maybe because he learnt something about you today that the rest of the crew didn’t know, he was someone special to you. the night passed quickly and soon you could see the sun rising, signalling that it was probably a good time to get at least some sleep before the entire crew awoke.

sanji could feel the effect of the sleep he lost that night and he was visibly tired in the morning, as were you; but he didn’t mind losing sleep over you if it meant one day he could be your boyfriend. <3

notes i love sanji so much <33 this was inspired by when i made blueberry muffins for my mom 😽 should i do a 100 followers event pls lmk and also send in any reqs you want love you !!

[melodic-haze]

I have kind of Ruan Mei brainrot rn… imagine Ruan Mei running a test on you but reader is a girl w penis I hope you know what you mean and well, the reader gets hard from the little touches Ruan Mei gives… okie I’m leaving the rest of the job for you 🫡

-🐿️

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Ruan Mei x dom!gp!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Fem reader with a dick ☺️, consensual use of aphrodisiacs, semi-public sex

☆ — NOTES: Oh my god a post?!?!? From ME?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? Anyway may this bless my rolls please HALLELUJAH

So really it probably would've started off as 🤷‍♀️ a favour 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ yk, just some harmless (lied) tests she wanted to do and you just happened to be in the right (wrong) place at the right (wrong) time. She wanted to test how one would react to certain stimuli, especially when it comes to more........"medicated" states

For the sake of my peace of mind you've probably both already talked about it before in the past anyway at one point, with her getting curious about chemicals and what it could do to one's libido ever since she started dating you 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ though she doesn't necessarily say when she'd ever do it lol

"Y/N, there you are."

You hear familiar heels click amidst the station floor, the sound now distinct enough to separate from all the ambience in the Station—the pace was languid yet decisive, soft yet forceful.. and so very her.

"Ruan Mei," you tore your gaze from the vast sea of stars to smile at her, "you need something?"

She shakes her head, stepping into place right next to you, "No, I do not. I simply thought to.. find you, is all."

"Taking a break from your research just to see me? Wow, did Herta do something or..?"

"No, she hasn't. Though I do admit that I had an ulterior motive for my actions," she says before holding out a small plate that you hadn't realised were there until now. "I had a new recipe I wanted you to try."

You picked one of the two lotus cakes up to inspect it in all its golden brown glory, "Trying to change up your recipes? They're already good enough, though."

"I had a new ingredient or two that I wanted to try using for such delicacies. It makes for a nice experiment."

"That so?" You raise it to your mouth, "Well, I trust that whatever you make is--"

Wait.

"--did you say 'experiment'?"

"Yes, I did. Why do you ask?"

You lightly furrowed your eyebrows in suspicion as you lowered the pastry from your lips, "Ruan Mei."

"Hm?"

"..I'm not going to ask what, exactly, you used. But could you at least tell me if this is gonna hurt me one way or another? Maybe have another moment of 'unexplained' amnesia?"

The scientist shook her head, though her expression doesn't slip from that ever-so-present mask of indifference, "I made sure that the effects don't harm you in any way."

"So there are side-effects to this."

"I never had the intention of lying to you."

"I love you, I really do, but you're very evasive with very important details like that."

"Because you simply don't ask."

"Yeah, well, I'm not your labrat," you say as you take a bite of the pastry anyway, "I'm your girlfriend. ..Though whatever you put in this, it's really sweet. Could you maybe make a drug-free version of whatever this is?"

The smallest of smiles graced her lips as you chewed and savoured her creation, and you just can't help but melt on the inside at the sight as she swipes off some stray crumbs from the corner of your lips with a thumb. She licks said crumbs off her digit (and your eyes widened the slightest bit) before responding, "I'll be sure to look for such an alternative."

"You better. You know I like whatever you create."

"I do."

"Even if it involves getting spiked for your own curiosity."

She leans in to press a gentle kiss on your cheek, "I appreciate the constant indulgence. Truly."

And as she ghosts her fingers down your arm before they snake over to hold your hand, you can't help but notice that you're just a touch bit more sensitive than you were a few moments ago.

Or maybe it's because it was your lover doing the touching.

Yeah. Maybe that's it.

...

"Hey, babe."

"Hm?"

"Why did you make two of them? Usually it'd only take one for it to hit me."

"In case we need another one."

"..Uh huh."

She doesn't just leave you, which is a wonder but also kinda not? Cuz she's observing you, not because she's affectionate 🤷‍♀️ sorry gangalicious she needs her baby steps towards understanding love in her own way 🫶🫶🫶 personally I'd be patient with her always (she's so me)

So the both of you are just chatting about whatever, like she asks you about how your day's been and then you ask her about how hers was. With you, while still a bit cryptic, she's much more of an open book to you than to anyone else, so you can just freely ask her whatever as you both take a stroll around Herta's Space Station and enjoy each other's company (I'd ask about the cats personally they're my babies :()

But then you start getting a bit......feverish, let's say. Just a tad bit hot under the collar 😊😊 which gets you to wonder like. Did Herta turn up the heat??? Like it was fine before, and why would she ever even need to mess with the temp settings when all that's here are her dolls?????? And why didn't your beloved seem unaffected??????¿????????

It's when she starts to give you touches here and there—her 'casual' handholding, naturally drifting close to you, clinging onto your arm—and noticing details you'd never have ever thought about in usual times that you think that Perhaps There Is Something Going On Here. And THEN you realise What Exactly Is Wrong when you feel that tension (and tent) centred at the bottom half of your body 😜

She's WELL-AWARE of it too, with the way her eyes drift down and her free hand going from resting on your stomach to moving to your lower abdomen.......before stopping 🫶 which gets on your Nerves to the point where all caution's thrown in the wind, your mind nothing more than a lustful haze (lol) and your only priority being to beat this heat......and your meat too, but really that's kinda obvious

It's as if she knew too!!! The moment you find some empty spare room, propriety be damned, she locks you both in IMMEDIATELY before putting the small dish to the table on the side (and you could've sworn you heard her breathe out "finally", though your braincells lost their way amongst the stars or something so you didn't know OR care) and walking back to you. At least until, yk, you grip the fabric of her clothes and slam her to the wall before THEN slamming your lips to hers 🤷‍♀️

She's surprised at your brazen forcefulness at first (who the heck wouldn't be ngl even you'd be surprised somewhere in your basically melted brain) but then she immediately relaxes. Hell, maybe there were remnants of whatever chemicals she put into the cake and she's having a taste for herself, bc she gets more daring by the second as her hands roam around your body and squeeze at your tits and her nails cling onto your biceps as she pulls you in deeper

Coincinentally just like how her nails dig deep into your back as you plow into her senselessly 😄 technique be DAMNED man bouta call yourself a carnivore bc GOD you're hungry for that meat HAHAHAHA (if not you then me I'm hungry for her thanks)

You could just barely register your lover's whines and pleas for you to slow down, but you couldn't care less as you hammered your length into her hot cunt over and over again.

And really, why would you slow down? This is what she wanted, isn't it? Having you fuck her like some simple-minded animal in heat with your only instinct being to fill your lovely little scientist up with your cum until its dripping out of her abused hole... This was her end-goal, so who was she to tell you to slow down?

It was better to lose yourselves in the moment.

..Even when you could hear quiet murmurs on the other side of the door. You could just barely make out what the voices are discussing—they had wondered why there were faint sounds of impact beyond the walls.

You've never seen Ruan Mei in such a state of panic before, with her eyes widening in concern as she pushes through her breathless state and keeps telling you to "stop" and that "it's too much" and "they'll hear of our experiment" (is that what we're calling it now?). Unfortunately for her, however, such words fall on deaf ears; especially when her body language says otherwise, with her limbs refusing to let go of you and her left heel dropping to the floor with a clack that is easily drowned out by the sounds of your explicit duet.

"W-We need to be qui-- mmnf..!"

One of your hands had reached out to the remaining cake before stuffing it in your lover's mouth, "If you wanna be.. ahhh.. quiet so-- ffffucking badly, then have something to c-chew on-- ohmygods, A-Ruan, you feel so good..!"

Her hips buck up in response to you using her true name, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she lets out a particularly loud yet muffled moan. You actually slow down this time, though you make up for the speed by plunging in as deep as you can as she eats her own creation—even you were able to recognise that her choking on something other than your dick would be one hell of a bad idea, and whatever effects that cake had on you was going to hit her rather quickly anyway.

You don't help the rising heat beneath you either, even when you've slowed down; your head bends down to play with her soft tits, tongue licking and mouth sucking as if something was going to ever miraculously come from it. You are a woman-- no, a bitch starved.

And from the feel of your partner's desperate grinding movements on your hard cock, from the looks of your pretty little scientist's pupils being blown, from the fact that her, from the fact that you've managed to reduce your Genius' brain to some sort of needy mush—the same state that you're in—you're pretty sure that she is the same state as you are right now.

Really, who cares about the people outside?

Let them know of your shared depravity with each other.

It stands to reason that neither of you finish for. A long time. Who knew that sharing the effects of two potently-crafted aphrodisiacs would make you two fuck like rabbits? 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ you're there for HOURS, doing whatever you two can manage to do—every position, whatever kinks you two have managed to discover yourselves (plus some new ones you hadn't even realised you were interested in until now, go figure)......hell, even when you sit there to catch your breath, you're still inside her 😭

You Are both at least Slightly aware that you're making a huge mess and you're probably gonna be so fucked AND fucked out by like idk tomorrow. Did you have the capacity to care? No not really, but Herta's possible wrath about dirtying up her Station like this was more than enough to have you both think that MAYBE you should take this to one of yous' quarters (though really it's a 50/50 but either way she'll still ridicule you somehow tbh)

So she cleans you up, crouching down and shamelessly sucks you off like a cheap whore—her enthusiasm and fervency is a CLEAR contrast to her usual lethargy and stoicism. Your shared cum drips to the floor as she did so, though not for long when she stands up and puts her panties back in place. Are they ruined to all hell???? Well yes but she won't really need it at your place so it's not like it matters

Once you've got yourself and the room cleaned up (that's a stretch I'm ngl but you get ⭐️ a gold star for trying), you quickly leave as soon as possible. It's both bc neither of you are far from done with your 'experiment' AND bc you two are such messes. Like you could be a mess on the daily, who knows, but Ruan Mei NEVER has a hair out of place and now she looks So Very Dishevelled My God

But again, none of that matters once you both get into your room and continue for round........who knows

But after you both inevitably end up passing out and the effects wear off? Lol she wasn't joking about how it won't do anything negative to you—the both of you remember precisely Everything you've done

"So."

"Mm?"

"At the end of the day," you spoke, voice raspy from the sleep and the overexhertion from the day before, "what was that research even for?"

She snuggles into your embrace—a rare moment of tenderness between the two of you—as she thinks on her words, "..Sexual potential?"

"..Could you elaborate?"

"..Not right now, my apologies," her voice is in the same state as yours, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"I figured."

Whatever research it was, it turned out to be Very Good Research 🫶

It also helps that she kept the recipe AND found a non-drugged alternative. Win win!!!!!

[letruyuread]

Little thoughts about about Twisted Wonderland characters and you (yuu)

Riddle loves having the first slice of tarts, strawberry ones especially. So I think that, for holidays or even if you're just feeling down, he gives you the first slice of his strawberry tart. No explanation, please don't mention it- you'll fluster the poor boy. But it means a lot to him, and he secretly hopes you understand that.

Yes, Ace is a teasing prick, most of the time, anyways. But the second anyone brings up how he might possibly feel for you? Absolute tsundere. Denying it to the high heavens. Insults you a lot, too. "How could I ever like the perfect?! They're so- so-" Yeah, no one's falling for it. Give him time. He'll get comfortable with the idea soon enough, and then you have a whole other problem.

Deuce loves to talk to his mom about you. Rants about you- the incredible magic-less human that stole his heart (No, get out of here Ace-). You don't even care that he used to be a delinquent! How amazing is that? His mom is overjoyed that her son met someone who sounds so nice and keeps trying to give him advice to ask you out. She also tries to convince him to bring you home during break- you're not even dating yet.

Cater, of course, posts about you on his Magicam. It's the usual- oh, they're so pretty today, look my partner gave me food 😍. But there are also things he doesn't post, surprisingly. He doesn't post the picture he took of you, laughing against the sunset. That one's private. Too perfectly you to be seen by everyone. No, that's just a moment for the two of you, he thinks.

Trey loves baking you things, baking with you, but he always finds himself flustered when you bake something for him. He taught you the recipe, he remembers, a few weeks ago, and here you are standing with a small platter of cookies. Some are burnt, some taste a bit salty (you didn't add the oyster sauce... right?) and yet he eats them all and loves them because you made them. For him.

Leona, I think, takes very good care of his hair. It was worse before he came to Night Raven, his attendants tried to take care of it, but he always managed to hide away (he was taking a nap). On the first day, though, Vil couldn't stand such a pretty face with such horrid care and taught Leona a routine. Leona now follows that routine strictly. He takes pride in it, as much as his smarts and strength. You know he's having a bad day when it's unkempt and tangled. You also know how much he trusts you when he teaches you the routine, when he lets you help him with it on those bad days or weeks or maybe months.

Ruggie gives you things. It's always random- a bit of his food, a dandelion in the field, a ribbon floating in the wind. He grew up with little- so naturally, he hoards everything he can get his hands on and keeps it for himself. One day he might need it, or his grandma, or the kids in his neighborhood. He's very protective of his growing stash. So when he gives you these things, it's him telling you that you're part of his family now. Ask for anything, he'll find it. Just like he would for the people back home.

Jack adopts a lot of cacti (I nearly spelled cactuses) with you- very silly, right? A lot of cacti. He waters them appropriately, a strict schedule for each, and keeps them at Ramshackle dorm. You have a whole room for them, very bright from large windows and only tables for the plants to be placed on. It's common in his family that you only have one person, your whole life, to stick by. He's hoping it's you- he's hoping you'll fall for him if he keeps coming around, day by day, taking care of your plant children (plant army).

(oh God there's so many but Im on a roll)

Azul, Azul... Oh boy. He really wants you to make a contact with him. Doesn't matter what kind- you want it, you'll get it (even if you don't agree to his offer, honestly). He always seems to want the same thing, though: (no it's not marriage) a friend. That's what he says, that's not really what's in the contract, though. The exact wording is 'companion.' Someone to talk to, someone to trust. Someone who calls his merform pretty and him intelligent. Someone who doesn't make him feel insecure.

Floyd. What do to with you? He's very touchy. Very touchy. Once, he skipped all his classes and just grabbed onto you, having you carry him around on your back and not letting you go. Yes, he put a spell on himself to make him light as a feather, no one could carry that tall of an eel. He's very clingy and doesn't understand how he feels about you. It confuses him, he has no clue what this is, he just knows he wants to be around you and why shouldn't he be?

Jade knows. You have weekly tea parties. Don't worry, everything's free of charge... Except that, you have to pay for that. Oh, you didn't bring any money? Well, a kiss would do, but... Oh, no, that was a joke. Please don't look so worried. Jade may know what he feels for you, but he's still working out how to deal with it. The twins kind of never thought this would happen.

Kalim is such a sweetheart! Give him all the love in the world, he'll reciprocate tenfold! Whatever you want. He can buy it, if not, his family has the connections to get it, surely. But don't be mistaken- he'll adore you if you make something for him. If he can, he'll always have it on him. Plus, he tries to make stuff for you too! It might look bad, or taste weird, but he's beaming at you and the thought is there!

Please give Jamil a day off. No, really- drag him as far away from Kalim and any responsibility as possible. Do everything. Cook for him, cuddle him, tell him he's amazing and smart and very very cool and it is HIS DAY OFF. Take care of him, please? He needs this. He needs you. He'll do the same for you, if you ever overwork yourself or have a bad day. Trust him, and ask him to trust you.

(I haven't gotten beyond book 4, so I don't know enough about the other characters to feel confident writing them. Maybe Idia, Malleus or Lilia, as I really like them and have done some research on them, but for now this is what I got. Enjoy?)

[yandere-kittee]

Yandere! Experiment x Scientist!Reader.

♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Note: I haven't posted in a long time, so have this as compensation. (I haven't finished writing my smut yet(ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू) )

❦Contains: Yandere behavior, platonic yandere, murder, manipulation, Gn! Reader, You are just called 'Mom'.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

You were horrified by the scene in front of you, even more when the reason for this scene was reaching out to you with such an Innocent smile.

"What's wrong Mom? Shouldn't you be happy that they won't seperate us anymore? " It asked you, staring up at you with blood splattered all over their face, their bloodied hands holding onto your white coat.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you raised a shaky hand, patting it's head, "Th-That's right, you did such a good job sweetie. " you said with a shaky voice, it was hard not to when you've just been scared out of your wits mind.

It's smile widens and buries it's head against your stomach, most definitely smearing blood onto your clothes, your glad for it because you didn't want them to see tears spill and run down your cheeks.

While they hug you, you had to watch with horrified eyes as you saw all of your colleagues dead mutilated bodies on the floor, blood and guts splattered everywhere, their deaths we're cruel and inhumane as the cause for their deaths hugs you.

This monster.

You honestly should've seen it coming, being nice to one of the experiments that the facility your working for kept, maybe because they resembled that of a child, so you wanted to be more nice to it.

So you treated it like any child you've encountered, you we're gentle and patient unlike the others, you treated it as if it was human, you played with it.

And sometimes you'll sneak it snacks that children around your place often liked.

At first, it was wary of you, because naturally, they haven't had the best treatment from scientists in this facility, they weren't very nice with the experiments, it only seemed natural to treat them as such because they were monsters, made to be weapons of mass destruction.

But within months of treating them like you would a child, they had warmed up to you, seeing you as a Parental Figure, to which the others seemed to notice because they we're more cooperative when you're with them.

And soon enough, they we're now under your care, you became a research scientist with a part time job as a babysitter.

They soon became clingy and didn't want you to leave them, "Don't leave me! " They exclaim while clinging onto your arm in desperation, "I won't be for long, I will just be taking a break and I'll come back. " You said.

"Why not just take it here? You said you wouldn't leave me. " They said, rubbing their face against your arm, Right, you did say that.

"Well, I can't exactly be able to. My lunch box is inside the cafeteria. " You said.

You often give them things you find outside the facility, to give them something that may remind them of the world outside, pretty rocks, flowers, and etc.

Their room became a safe space for the two of you.

Until it wasn't.

"Mom! " They beam, standing up from their position on the floor once you arrive with fresh warm food in your hands, they walk up to you and sniff the food, "What's this one called? " they ask curiously.

"It's carbonara. I found a recipe for it and thought you would like it. " You settle the dish on the table and go to grab plates and utensils, "I always like the things you make me. " They smiles, sitting down on the chair.

"That's great to hear. " You say, opening the drawer of utensils, your eyes landing on the sharp knife hidden away.

...

♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

I hope you guys enjoyed this! I quite enjoyed writing this one, anyways, sorry for the late post!

[Requests are open]

👏( 'ω' )👏( 'ω' )

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

[nolita-fairytale]

your past and mine are parallel lines | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

summary: a run-in with an old friend sparks a conversation between you and carmy of the people you loved before each other. or rather, the one in which you meet claire.

warnings: use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, tooth rotting fluff, not-your-normal jealousy fic, soft!carmy, lives in the world of make my heart surrender

wc: 3.9k

a/n: ok so hear me out: i just want to write about healthy relationships right now and that is where i'm at. this is not your normal jealousy fic and i hope you still enjoy! this lives in the world of 'make my heart surrender' because of course it does and takes place a month after my oneshot, j is for j beard and jealousy.

masterlist

It begins with forgotten carrots, tops attached, of course – a necessary ingredient to the dish that you’ve been working on all afternoon together. Usually, you’d go for a rainbow bunch, but for the puree, aesthetically of course, the classic orange carrot is much better suited. You’d hadn’t put them on the grocery list the day before, certain that you had a bunch or two at home sitting in your vegetable drawer, only to find mid-recipe development that you did not, in fact, have carrots at home. It doesn’t take long for Carmy to suggest a quick trip to the store, insisting that you come with him because this is a date, after all. 

It’s something you and Carmy have decided to do, now that neither of you are needed at the restaurant 24/7: a cooking date at home which, despite the fact that this date night was an idea born out of both of your desires to introduce more fun into your lives, will inevitably become a dish that Carmy tries to put on the menu anyways.

Divide and conquer is the strategy: while you hit up the produce aisle, Carmy is sent on a mission to procure a bottle of orange wine for dinner later tonight. 

But what’s supposed to be a simple Saturday afternoon grocery store run takes a turn for the intriguing as you hear a laugh – a woman’s laugh – and the familiar sound of your boyfriend’s voice muttering something about the name of his restaurant.

As you approach, you spot your boyfriend and the woman he’s found himself in a conversation with. Carmy leans against the refrigerator doors, his chest square to the brunette, bathed in neon blues from the refrigerator lights. 

“Because you’re the bear. And I remember you,” you hear her say. You observe carefully, the look of surprise and the blush that runs across Carmy’s cheeks in response to her words are not lost on you. 

There’s a palpable energy between them as they converse, and it feels as if all the blood is rushing to your head as you cut the tension with a single: 

“Hey.” 

As the brunette turns to you, you’re only a little taken aback by how beautiful she is. With long, thick, dark hair, she has piercing blue eyes, similar to the ones you’ve found yourself lost in in your years spent loving Carmen Berzatto. You feel almost silly as you stand there, holding a bunch of carrots in your right hand, suddenly grateful that your have your favorite of Carmy’s denim jackets tied around your waist (for “just in case the store’s got the AC blasting,” Carmy had reminded you before you left the house earlier). 

“Hi,” is all she replies, an almost too-friendly smile plastered to her face, as she takes a few steps towards you. “I’m Claire. I’m…” She trails off before stealing a glance over at Carmy before continuing with, “...an old friend. Of Carmy’s.” As the woman called Claire extends a hand out to you, you take it, giving her hand a curt shake as you introduce yourself. 

It dawns on Carmy, who has slipped into a state of what can only be considered as shock, that he probably should’ve introduced the two of you sooner as he mutters an apology under his breath. 

“Shit, yeah, sorry. I probably should’ve-. I uh, um, Claire. Yeah. This is uh, this is my girlfriend,” Carmy manages to get out, his face growing increasingly deeper shades of red as the words tumble out of his mouth. 

“Your-? Wow, oh my god! It’s-it’s so nice to meet you,” Claire replies, trying her best to hide the surprise in her voice as it increases in pitch with every word. 

“So… what’re you two up to-?” she begins to ask, looking from you to Carmy with wide, quizzical eyes. “Carrots. We’re uh…,” is the first thing that comes to mind as the words fly from your lips. “... buying carrots.” 

You realize how stupid it sounds, completely caught off guard, as you scramble to find any word in the English language that doesn’t sound as ridiculous as what you’ve just said. 

You wonder if this is how Carmy felt when you ran into Nate at the James Beard Awards about a month ago. 

At this rate, something’s gotta be in retrograde, right? you think to yourself as you try to push down your feelings of embarrassment. 

“Right,” Carmy mutters, while Claire tries to get the conversation back on track. 

“Well, it’s really good to see you, Bear. Really. I’ll have to stop by the restaurant sometime,” she says, preparing to excuse herself. 

“Yeah,” Carmy nods, still avoiding as much direct eye contact as possible. 

Bear.

It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, and yet, you can’t help the feeling that wells inside of you as she says the name. 

The family name. 

His childhood name. 

It feels more intimate than it should, and maybe it is. 

You swallow, trying to shake the feeling. 

“Yes. Yeah, we’d uh… let us know. When you’re there,” you continue, exchanging a look with Carmy, who only nods along. 

“Oh, you’re a-, you work there too? At the restaurant,” Claire asks, eyeing the carefully drawn fruits and veggies that adorn the length of your arms, permanently inked there forever. 

“Yeah. Uh. Pastry chef,” you reply with a small laugh. 

She nods, almost as if she’s accepted an unspoken agreement – something you’re not sure you’ll ever know. 

“Well it was nice to meet you,” she says once more, shooting a soft smile in your direction, before excusing herself. “And it’s good to see you, Carmy.” 

As you watch Claire walk away, Carmy’s still frozen inside of what he thinks could be the most awkward experience of his month so far. 

“So… that was weird,” you say, as you turn towards your boyfriend. He mutters something in agreement because the only thing he can think of to say is, what the fuck just happened. 

And he’s barely figured that out. 

“Do… you want to talk about it?” you ask skeptically, dragging out the ‘o’ at the beginning of your question. 

“Not really,” he mumbles softly, shaking his head. 

“Great, me either,” you’re quick to reply, even though you both know that you’re going to have to talk about this eventually. 

—-------------------------------------

It seems to be a day of forgetfulness, as Carmy realizes that he’s left his notebook at the restaurant – something he’s been working out of for any and all new ideas, a habit you think he picked up from Syd. It’s not entirely out of the way, so the two of you decide to stop by on the way home. You enter through the back, hoping to skirt the tongue lashing you’ll both get for coming in – even just for a few minutes – on your day off. 

But a hall-pass just isn’t in the cards for either of you, as you’re instantly spotted, arm-in-arm, by Richie who’s just ended the pre-dinner shift all hands meeting. 

“It’s your day off! Get the fuck outta here,” Richie calls out to you with a shake of his head. “You two. I swear.” 

“I just forgot my notebook. We’re in, then we’re out. I swear!” Carmy defends himself, holding up his hands. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie dismisses him before issuing a warning with a wag of his finger. “You better not stay longer than five minutes, you got that?” 

“In and out. Scout’s honor,” you answer, before the abrupt interjection of Fak’s voice stops you from saying anything else. 

“Incomiiiiiiiing!” Fak cries, as he bursts through the doors. “Ahhhh man. Hey Carm! I heard you ran into Claire Bear.” 

Claire Bear?

You shoot Carmy a quizzical look that he’s more than eager to avoid. 

“The fuck are you talkin’ about?” Richie snaps as Carmy simultaneously lets out as: “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. What do you-? How? Already?!” “Fuck it’s been two fuckin’ seconds,” Carmy grits his teeth, trying his best to answer Richie’s question. “But apparently news travels fast.” He shoots you an apologetic look as he explains, “She’s uh… close family friends with the Faks.” 

“Ahhh,” you let out. “She seem good? Bet she was glad to see ya,” Fak inquires, overenthusiastically winking in Carmy’s direction. 

“Yeah she’s uh… she’s gonna be a doctor in a few months huh?” Carmy replies, trying his best to avoid Fak’s continuous winks. 

“Who the fuck is Claire?” Sydney asks, as she enters the conversation. Syd quickly notices the confused look on your face, in contrast to the embarrassed one on Carmy’s, and a more than eager Fak, much to Richie’s dismay. 

It’s as if he can read the situation in one look as Richie cuts in this time with an explanation:

“Will you stop it, fucko? Jesus Christ.” Richie turns his attention to you this time as shakes his head, brushing off Fak’s earlier comment. “She’s just a kid from the neighborhood. That’s all.” 

“Just a kid from the neighborhood?! You, Richie, you are not nice!” Fak exclaims. 

But Richie is faster, quick to dismiss the man as he cuts him off with a few sharp words about fixing his bowtie before dinner service starts. As they bicker back and forth, trading barbs like brothers, Carmy has returned to his ‘I really don’t want to talk about this’ body language, his shoulders slumped and completely avoiding eye contact. 

“Okay. Um…. Raise your hand if you’re off the clock but you’re acting really fuckin’ weird right now,” Sydney says, looking from you to Carmy, and then back to you. 

“I…” you try your best to explain to no avail – mostly because you’re not sure what to explain yet. 

“We should go. Let’s get out of here, yeah?” you propose, directing your attention towards Carmy again. You’re more than happy to be met with a nod as Carmy excuses himself, darting into his office to retrieve the notebook he came here for in the first place. 

You can tell that he’s not ready to talk about it, and after the weirdness today, you’re beginning to wonder more and more about this Claire girl. Carmy had never mentioned an ex-girlfriend. You knew that there were short-lived flings here and there throughout his twenties, but by the time you met him, it was just you and him, trapped inside your little bubble of denial and unspoken feelings until you weren’t. 

Claire doesn’t quite seem like an ex, but you could feel that she wasn’t just a girl from the neighborhood that Carmy grew up with either. 

“You good?” Sydney asks, immediately noticing your discomfort. 

“Yes,” you answer, unconvincingly. “Sooooo….?” Sydney begins to ask. 

So what’s going on? So what was that all about? 

“Girl, I will let you know when I know,” you answer, shooting her a matching look. 

“Godspeed, my friend,” Sydney replies with a salute, eliciting a much needed laugh from you. “I’m gonna get back to work but uh… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you nod, trying your best to shake off this weird feeling. 

As you watch her go, you’re too caught up in the what-the-fuck-ness of it all that you barely notice as Richie approaches. 

“You know you got nothin’ to worry about, right, sweetheart?” Richie asks you, interrupting the thoughts swimming around in your head. 

“No yeah. I-, he’ll tell me when he’s ready,” you reply, almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself. 

“You ready?” you hear Carmy ask. 

“Yeah,” you nod, before giving Richie a small smile because his reassurance means a lot. “Thanks, Richie.” 

As you wave goodbye, Carmy takes your hand before leading you out of the restaurant and en route towards home. There’s a thick tension between the two of you, filled with things left unsaid. It’s more of an awkward kind of tension as Richie’s words echo in your head: 

You know you got nothin’ to worry about, right, sweetheart? 

It means more to you than he knows – that Richie is in your corner. It’s not like the two of you are best friends, but you have a mutual understanding that you’ve been good for Carmen ever since you reentered his life. 

You’ve become a patient woman, knowing that, most of the time, Carmy has to come to you on his own time. You trust him wholeheartedly, and you trust that he’ll tell you when he’s ready. It just doesn’t help the anticipation that’s been building inside of you all afternoon. 

“You know. We’re gonna have to talk about this eventually,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence between you. 

“Yeah,” Carmy answers quietly, giving your hand a confident squeeze. And if it’s a promise, he adds, “Yeah, I know.”

—-------------------------------------

You’re barely paying attention to George Clooney’s portrayal of a former raider turned newspaper columnist of a fox, entirely distracted by your game of cat and mouse that you play with Carmy and his attention. You can feel his eyes on you as you take another sip from your wine glass, the funky and sour notes hitting your tongue as he watches you closely, your head hazy from getting towards the end of the second glass.  

Carmy sighs, shifting his body position, as if choosing the comfiest position will embolden him to tell you what’s been on his mind.

He lets out yet another sigh, this one much heavier than the last and you know he’s working up the nerve. 

You cradle your wine glass in your hands, giving the last of the orange elixir a swirl as you settle into the couch, your back pressed against the arm of it as you stretch your legs out in front of you. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask him, and he lets out one last sigh of relief, almost as if he’s been waiting for you to ask. 

“Uh… yeah, actually,” Carmy admits, hesitantly.

You’ve been waiting for him to get here, taking in the vulnerable look on his face as he searches for the words he thinks will best convey what he wants to say. “So… there was like… someone… before me, yeah?” Carmy drags out, his face soft as he asks you a question that takes you by surprise. 

You let out what can only be described as a laugh and a sob as you reply with: 

“What do you mean?” you choke out, the laugh that escapes your body providing much needed relief. 

It’s not what you expected. That’s for sure. 

“You know…” he trails off, before taking another deep breath because as much as he hates to admit it, it’s really the only example he’s got. “Like… I know… about Nate.” “Nate?!” you exclaim with an even bigger laugh. “Bear, are you… are you asking me about my exes?” 

“Uh… yeah…” he admits on an exhale, almost embarrassed to be asking. “I guess uh-, I guess I am.” In his bashfulness, you giggle, reaching out to give his arm a squeeze as you begin to understand that he’s ready to talk about what happened in the grocery store. 

Carmy takes a breath, and you watch his posture soften.

“Well, Nate barely counts as an ex. I don’t… That was more of a… one-time mistake kind of thing,” you admit, knowing that it wasn’t all that long ago that Carmy found out about it in the first place. 

“Right,” Carmy nods, his gaze focused on his knees for a moment because even though he brought it up, he’d really like to stop talking about Nate right about now. 

“But!” you begin, trying your best to meet him where he’s asking you to. “The guy I dated… right before I met you, Alec was… definitely someone I consider an ex. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah um… we were together for two years… just before I started working at our old spot,” you begin, willing to give him as much information as he wants. “So why didn’t it work out?” Carmy asks curiously. 

“I don’t know, babe. I racked my brain trying to figure that one out a ton when we first broke up,” you sigh, uncertain of how to answer that question. You take your time choosing to be as honest as possible in your explanation. “I think… I don’t know. He was never as sure about me as I was of him.”

“We were great together, y’know? He was kind, and smart… he made me laugh… And we were really happy together for a long time. I mean, I think we were exactly what each other needed as the people we were in that time of our lives,” you explain, elaborating on what really worked in your relationship with Alec. 

“But eventually, none of that stuff really mattered because all I wanted was to be with someone who felt as crazy about me as I did about them, you know? And… he wasn’t… entirely sure.” 

Carmy lets out a deep breath as he takes your words in. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, as he feels the weight of your words. “I guess… well, I guess I didn’t know about all that.” 

“Well, I didn’t exactly tell you,” you shrug. 

Carmy thinks it over, wondering why he never asked you about your broken heart back then – not that he was ever really good about that kind of stuff  – the talking about feelings kind of stuff, and whatnot. 

But he wants to be good at it now. Or, at least he’d like to try. He wants to try to be good at it for you. 

“Guy’s a fuckin’ loser,” Carmy comments, a bitterness in his voice as he does. “I can’t imagine it.” 

“Hm?” 

“Not being crazy about you,” he answers, his tone confident as his eyes catch yours. 

Your heart flutters with the way he looks at you, and between his words and his certainty about you, you can’t regret the past – not even a little bit. 

“It’s okay, Bear,” you reassure him, and you mean it. “If Alec and I had stayed together… well, you and I never would’ve….” 

“Danced around each other for over two years?” Carmy points out letting out a dry laugh. “Right,” you chuckle in agreement, with a playful eye roll. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” 

“We’re here now. Isn’t that what’s important?” you ask with a shrug and a half smile. 

This time, his tone much more serious, Carmy answers with a, yeah, that feels heavier than the previous ones. 

You and Carmy both take a beat, letting the reality of your life with each other sink in. It’s as if all the ‘no’s of the past lead you here to this moment, and you’d have it no other way. 

“So. Who… is Claire?” you ask, earning a groan from Carmy as he swears under his breath with a shake of his head. You stretch out your leg, just enough to poke him with your big toe as he chuckles, wanting nothing more than to avoid this question. 

“It’s just… well you’ve never really told me about any of your exes!”

“Well she’s not really… my ex,” Carmy blushes, averting his gaze once again. 

“Well, she doesn’t really seem like just a friend,” you point out, and it suddenly feels like you’re showing your entire hand. Carmy agrees with you on an exhale, reminding himself that he wants to try the whole ‘better at talking about feelings’ thing with you. 

“Okay. Uh… well… we’ve known each other for like… forever, I guess,” Carmy begins to explain running a hand through his curls. “Her family is close with the Faks and I-, I-, uh… well, I sort of… had this massive crush on her… like all throughout school.” 

“What?” you ask, genuinely curious about his sudden coyness. 

“It’s embarrassing!” he defends himself, with a dry laugh. 

“Carmy, it’s not!” you insist, sitting up straight this time to reach for his hand. “Was it weird for you? Earlier today?” 

“Uh. Kinda, yeah,” he confesses, stealing a glance your way. 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Like… a lot. Was that… not obvious?” he shoots back, this time with a shake of his head. “I just-. I don’t know. It was weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?” you ask again, patiently. “Just… weird, babe,” Carmy answers honestly with a shrug of his own. 

You nod in understanding, wanting to give him the space to share more if he’d like to. It’s not that you were worried about Claire… but it had been weird, earlier today – and even stranger when no one was giving you a proper explanation. “I-, I-, it’s like. I had such a big crush on her. And I could barely work up the nerve to talk to her like… I was sort of just this-, this total fuckin’ loser,” Carmy continues, his eyes narrowing as he talks about a younger version of himself. “And now here I am… with my super hot girlfriend and I just-. I don’t know. It sorta uh… reminded me of like… a different version of myself.” 

“Yeah, no, I-, I get that. It’s… it’s such a weird feeling,” you empathize, exchanging a look with your boyfriend this time. 

You nod in understanding, only to be met with a laugh and another shake of his head as Carmy lets out a sigh of relief. “You’re being like… waaaaay too cool about this,” he points out, his voice lighter this time. 

“Oh yeah?” you ask with a quirk of an eyebrow. “Uh. Fuck yeah,” Carmy confirms, as you exchange a laugh. He shrugs once again, only a little embarrassed as he adds, “You know… I just… I kinda lost my fuckin’ mind. You know. About Nate.” You shrug, “That’s different. I-.” A beat. “Do you want me to be jealous?” “No,” Carmy answers. A beat. “Maybe?” And another. “I-, I don’t know. This is all so new to me!” 

“Carm,” you sigh, as you lean over, placing your wine glass down on the coffee table before scooting closer to your boyfriend as you continue. “You and I have been through so much together and there were days that I thought we’d never speak again… but somehow we still ended up here.” 

He grabs your hands, pulling you in closer towards him as you meet him pound for pound–all heart on both sides. 

“I trust you,” you reassure him, your fingers sliding perfectly between his. “And I know I have your heart… ‘cos I know you got mine.” 

“Ffffffuck,” Carmy exhales, in complete disbelief that you really are being too cool about this. “Seriously?!” 

You laugh, incredulously this time, as you decide to give your boyfriend just a little of what he may be looking for. “No, but. It did-, it was weird for me… today. With Claire. And then later at the restaurant when Fak brought her up. I mean… you weren’t lying. News traveled fast,” you admit, much to Carmy’s relief. 

“Neighborhood’s small. That’s for sure,” he agrees, equally uncomfortable with how quickly that got around. 

“And… She is like… really pretty. And… what? About to be a doctor so I guess that means she’s really fuckin’ smart. I mean-,” you continue. 

It doesn’t take Carmy long to realize that you’re trying too, deciding it’s best to put you out of your misery sooner rather than later as he cuts you off with a playful, “Oh shut the fuck up.” 

It’s your turn to laugh this time as you lean in, pressing your lips to his. 

Carmy inhales, breathing you in as he tries to memorize the way you smell, the way you taste, the way your lips feel nestled so perfectly against his. He pulls away just for a moment, intent on telling you something. 

“You do, by the way,” Carmy says, his declaration soft but sure. “Have my heart, I mean.”

“I know, babe,” you reply, with a smile. “I know.”

—-------------------------------------

a/n: if you've been wondering where i've been, i've been here! just living a whole lot of life offline these days. would anyone be interested in reading my thoughts on life? anyways, i feel like a hiatus was good for me, and now i have all this life i've lived that's inspired me to write again. i've been channeling a lot of my creative energy into other projects which has felt great and it also feels really good to be back.

[educatedsimps]

— inarizaki 4 x f!reader on her period (hcs)

≪ back to fics masterlist

ft. miya atsumu, miya osamu, kita shinsuke, suna rintarō x f!reader

a/n: only writing for these four (so far) 'cause i don't think i have a very good grasp of the other inarizaki characters but perhaps in the future! anyway this one's short and sweet but i hope you enjoy~~

cw: timeskip spoilers for osamu but that’s it

— MIYA ATSUMU

is a dumbass

this man would only know what to buy for a period care pack because kita got him a care pack when he was sick

“i picked up a few things from kita-san ya know, WHADDAYA TAKE ME FOR?!"

he gets anxious and worried that he'll forget stuff when he's at the store

like he had to ask kita to make him a checklist for when he gets supplies for u

would go on a day trip around the neighbourhood to find the store that has everything on that checklist

keeps that checklist pinned in his notes app (right below a little note where he writes down everything he loves about you - he's a simp)

he's always worried he missed something so he will not shut up

"are you sure the pads are in there? did i get the right ones? the big ones with the wings right? the extra absorbent kind? I SWEAR I TOOK THE RIGHT ONES BUT IF THEY'RE NOT IN THE BAG I'LL RUN BACK TO GET IT FOR YA RIGHT NOW" (he took the bus there btw)

"oh and they ran out of the usual snacks you like so i got three other brands for you to try, if you don't like any of 'em i'll get some more!"

asks osamu to make your fav onigiri too but he only asks nicely cuz it’s for you :)

— MIYA OSAMU

would make SO MUCH food for you like you’ll never go hungry if you’re with him

he also does not care if you bloat during your period he WILL keep you fed even if it's against your will

would also find a bunch of different recipes that will reduce your bloating

he's an onigiri guy but he'd go to his mom and ask her to teach him her healing soup recipes

he'll start making so much soup you'll just be drinking soup the whole day (with onigiris and anything else you'd like, of course)

would NOT let you within a 10 foot radius of a cold drink when you're on your period

like you'd go to the fridge in the middle of a hot day to grab some chocolate and you'll just hear "STEP AWAY FROM THE FRIDGE WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR"

you turn around and he’s pointing at you with his spatula in hand

he knows how warm you might feel on your period though so he'll make the kind of hot soup that cools the body (he learnt it from his mom)

— KITA SHINSUKE

kita is kita

kita is the best one out of everybody

he KNOWS what he’s doing like i don’t even need to explain

but yes you can trust that he’s got everything you need and has everything before you even know you need it

fav snacks, fav drinks, heating pad, painkillers, a gallon of water, hot soup, fresh food, weighted blanket if you like those, your fav movie or show already set up for you and a shit ton of cuddles and naps throughout the day

also he’d write in or call your boss to tell him or her that you’re staying home

“kita, i NEED to go to work today-“ “no. you need to rest.” “but-“ “i already called your boss.” BRO IT’S 6AM

will physically force you back in bed if you try to get up or out

also asks osamu to make ur fav onigiri

of course, his grandma loves u SO much that every month she’ll ask kita if you’re on your period and she'll make herbal or like the healing kind of soup and packs it so nicely for kita to bring it to you

sometimes she adds a little note in the carrier and your heart melts every single time

— SUNA RINTARŌ

king of cuddling and doomscrolling tiktok in bed

he knows you don’t really like lying down in bed and all during your period, especially if it’s really heavy so he’ll lay out extra towels and stuff in case anything happens

also would 100% clean up for you if your period gets too heavy and leaks onto the bed or something

“go get yourself cleaned up in the washroom and wait here for me once you’re done. don’t touch anything, i’ll take care of the sheets.”

keeps painkillers and water on his nightstand and a ton of heating pads in his drawer

ENDLESS CUDDLES like he gets so clingy it’s almost embarrassing but he’s cute so-

uses tiktoks to distract you from your period

“my period hurts-“ “babe look look look it’s a cat” “AWWWWW ITS SO FLUFFY”

tbh i don’t think you’d even use heating pads much if you were with him cuz you cannot look at suna and tell me that he’s not a heater in human form

his warm hands on your lower belly is the BEST feeling when you’re on your period

*places hands on tummy* “does it still hurt?” “no i think it’s going away…” “it better be. or i’m dragging your cramps to the depths of hell myself.”

— EXTRAS

osamu probably makes extra batches of onigiri every week just to give it out to his brother’s and friends’ girlfriends and honestly God bless him for that

would give atsumu’s girlfriend atsumu’s share of onigiri tho

the first time you got your period after you got together with kita, he probably asked you a whole list of questions he prepared and noted down all your answers like your fav stuff and the types of pads or tampons you use etc. it was honestly pretty shocking but sweet nonetheless

suna def has the period tracker app on his phone but he remembers your cycle so he uses the app to remind you

atsumu also has the app but he sets it to send him reminders and notifications when your period is coming up

a/n: THANK YOU FOR READINGG hoped u enjoyed it ~~ stay tuned for more original and requested works coming soon!! -lyssa

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