#for the integrity of the tag i'm not letting this get out of hand

[littleeyesofpallas]

Arclite Stretch TRPG

[kbwrites]

Up In The Clouds

synopsis: you are a first-year jujutsu high student, seemed only natural that satoru and suguru would want to protect you... right?

⚝ a/n: I'M ALIVEEE. my first fanfiction in over FIVE YEARS?!

⚝ tags: sfw/suggestive satoru x reader. suguru x reader. satosugu x reader (KINDA). marijuana use!

⚝ wc: 1412

“Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something?”

“Shut the hell up Satoru.”

“Please. What Suguru Said.”

You were given one condition by your parents when you got into Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, and that was to stay out of trouble. And yet there you were, with the school’s most infamous troublemakers - high as the clouds you were observing.

 Suguru approached you on your first day, his kind eyes and dulcet voice made you feel more than welcome. Him and Satoru were joined at the hip, as you soon found out. It only took a few days for you to be fully integrated into the group. So their duo (and occasionally Shoko, when she felt like dealing with their bullshit) grew to include you. They shouldered the burden of showing you around the school. Suguru educated you with the history of the school, while Satoru listed the best places to slack off. And slack off you did, the two boys were first-grade sorcerers, why the hell would they need to attend classes?

Yaga lectured you of course, “A bright girl like you has no business hanging around with those two”. And yet, they were the strongest. And you were their new obsession, fitting right into their antics.

The antics for today? Courtesy of Satoru, the lanky second year stood before Suguru and (Y/N) dangling a ziploc bag with a blunt inside.

“Are you trying to get us expelled?” Suguru sighed.

“Seriously. If Yaga catches us-”

The white haired teen sighed dramatically (you were confident that that was the only way he knew HOW to sigh)

“You guys are no fun.” A pout forms across his lips, crossing his arms.

“Who did you even get this from?”

“Does it matter? Let’s get high~” Satoru smirks, discarding the ziploc bag and holding the blunt up to his nose to take a deep inhale.

Suguru glances over at you.

“Satoru… do you really think you’re setting the best example for our underclassmen.”

You smile awkwardly, sure he was referring to you.

“She isn’t some baby doll Suguru. Right (Y/N)?” Satoru turned his attention to you. He knew that with that honeyed voice of his, he could get anything he wanted. Suguru glared back at his slightly taller friend, who grinned through his dark shades. You shift uncomfortably, the tension thickening by the second. It was pretty common that you ended up being the one breaking up fights between your two best friends. For some reason you were always caught in the middle. You sigh standing up.

“Fuck it”

And there you three were laying on the grass of the field.

You’ve gotta hand it to Satoru.

You feel pretty amazing right now.

“Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something?”

“Shut the hell up Satoru.”

“Please. What Suguru Said.”

“Guys… seriously-”

Bzzt bzzt.

You slowly sit up, reaching for your vibrating phone.

Shoko ^-^

Where r u guys?

(Y/N)

Practice Field.

Shoko ^-^

Huh? Those two idiots are actually doing work?

(Y/N)

Satoru brought weed~

Shoko ^-^

Ahh.

(Y/N)

You comin’?

Shoko ^-^

Doing work for Yaga :(

You close your phone, laying back down between the two teens.

Suguru takes the blunt from Satoru taking a drag before passing it to you again, your fingers grazing each other, the touch lingering. A familiar heat in your chest rising.

You’d be lying through your teeth if you said that you didn’t find your two friends attractive. Satoru was confident, he knew that when he walked into a room all eyes (girls and guys) were on him. His silken white hair, and eyelashes that when fluttered he got whatever he wanted. And of course his azure blue eyes, like pools of shimmering water too deep to ever reach the bottom of. In layman’s terms; he was hot.

And Suguru? Well, his beauty was more understated. That isn’t to say he wasn’t hot.

 He was.

With his raven-black hair that cascaded in sleek waves always neatly put up. His piercing coffee-colored eyes, the subtle curve of his lips. When he told you something was going to be okay. You could actually believe him. It was his overtly calm demeanor that probably made him seem more like Satoru’s shadow… But to you? That shadow lurked in the depths of your mind, suffocating your thoughts at the worst times. Times like this.

You take a long drag from the blunt, desperately trying to distract yourself from the thoughts that plagued your head. You hold the smoke in, before letting out an exasperated sigh. You cough quietly at the sensation in your lungs, sitting up. Suguru looks over at you in concern, sitting up with you to pat gently on your back.

“Don’t overdo it, yeah?” His voice, ever the gentle caress, only works to fluster you further. 

You turn away desperately trying to hide the blush creeping onto your face. Suguru continues patting your back, reaching for a bottle of water.

“(Y/N)? Here. drink.” Your heart flutters, you snatch the drink gulping it down.

“Thanks, Suguru..” 

Satoru turns his attention from the clouds to his two friends, his eyebrow quirking up in curiosity. But he doesn’t say a word, just snatches the blunt from you and continues the rotation.

Satoru drones on, informing you of any and every thought that comes into his head. You and Suguru stay silent, letting out a ‘hmmm’ in acknowledgment every now and then. His hand brushes against yours, his touch sending shocks of electricity through your skin as he points out funny-looking clouds. The sky turns from blue to red as the sun sets over the training grounds. The three of you wearily rise to your feet, heading back to the main dorm.

“(Y/N)! Suguru and I are g’nna play some melee. You wanna cheer me on while I kick his ass?” Satoru loops his arm around your neck smirking. You look over at Suguru, you can almost make out his body tensing ever so slightly.

“Sorry. I have to study, but I’ll see you tomorrow guys!” You wave apologetically, prying yourself from Satoru’s grasp. Suguru offers you his signature smile. Satoru offers his signature pout.

 You take your leave, strutting off to your dorm. The two boys’ eyes linger on your form as it disappears down the hall.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬✧ ▬▭▬

Suguru focuses intensely on the tv, hitting Satoru with combos. Satoru lazily sits back effortlessly dodging and blocking, ‘those eyes of his are basically cheats’ he thinks. Satoru glances over at his dark-haired friend smirking.

“So… I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s usually how it starts” Suguru sighs, still maintaining his focus, he has 2 stocks left. His damage at 99%.

“(Y/N). She’s a cutie isn’t she~” Satoru muses before hitting him with a spin kick.

It’s just slight enough to make out, but Suguru’s body tenses, and his eye twitches. 

133% damage

“What are you getting at Satoru..” he warns

“She’s totally my type, think she’s interested?”

Suguru can’t see the mischievous look behind his friends' blacked-out shades.

“No.” 

“No you don’t think she’s interested?”

“Satoru-“

“I mean seriously? She puts on that shy act in front of us~ drives me crazy thinking about how’d easy it’d be to make her blush”

Satoru knocks him off the platform.

1 stock left.

Suguru’s teeth clench, blood coming to a boil as he mashes the buttons of the controller. Satoru is loving this. He continues

“You don’t mind if I make a move Hmm?”

That was it.

 Suguru pauses just long enough for Satoru to land a fury of kicks and punches, hitting him with a special.

WINNER JIGGLYPUFF

Satoru leans back, his arms behind his head. Relishing in his umpteenth victory against Suguru, Suguru on the other hand is seething with anger. The thought of Satoru flirting with you… touching you…

“Leave her alone Satoru.”

“Huh? What do you mean-“

“(Y/N). Is off limits.”

Satoru perks up at this, lowering his shades to look at Suguru with his piercing blue eyes.

“Off limits? Says who?”

“She’s our friend”

“Yeah? All the more reason she should date me and not some rando”

Suguru tensed again. But that didn’t stop the white-haired menace.

“She wouldn’t say yes to you anyway”

Uh oh. He’d done it now, Satoru never backs down from a challenge. Nothing is too impossible for him, and you? You’ve just become his new challenge.

“I guess we’ll just have to see about that”

And with that, the real game begun.

[ataraxixia]

hiii can you write abt ratio and sunday w a reader who gets overstimmulated at parties or just hanging out with friends and they get really mean when overstimmulated <3 like how would they help their partner out yk

  ❦  𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. how they help you out when you're overstimulated ❧ tags. Ratio x reader, sunday x reader, fluff, comfort, sfw ❧. a/n. of course, and thank you for your request, love <3 btw i'm not familiar with what it's like to help an overstimulated person so I did some research before writing- I apologize if I wrote something wrong

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

"By the Aeons, do you people ever shut up?" you spat to a group of young students, meaner than you intended to, but you couldn't really help it at the moment. The hall was full to the brim- packed with endless members of the Intelligentsia Guild. There were just too many- bragging loudly about their scores of their last exams or simply discussing different subjects with no end. Without saying anything to the students, you quickly walked to one of the corners, covering your ears to shut out the noise. You had difficulties focusing, and the discomfort was creeping up your whole body. You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths and imagining being back home in your cozy and quiet living room. Yet, the constant talking, laughing and arguing made it entirely impossible.

You slumped down the wall, sitting down and resting your head between your legs. You groaned as you shut your eyes, not noticing the person standing beside you.

"―? What are you doing?" they asked. "Why do you care?"

"Because I'm your boyfriend, obviously."

You let out a noise of confusion before you lifted your head and looked to the side, seeing your boyfriend, Veritas, leaning on the wall and focused on you. He crouched down beside you and placed his hand on your forehead, a frown appearing on his face. Your face was pale yet your forehead was quite hot.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier? I would've brought you home." he said, removing his hand. Your gaze shifted to the side, your fingers twitching a little. "I didn't find you. There were a lot of people." it was the truth. From the moment your senses became a bit heated, you looked around, walking from venue to venue to find Ratio, yet it seemed like he just disappeared into thin air.

"I was looking for you as well. Figured out you didn't like it here." Ratio held you by the arms and helped you stand up straight, steadying your body with his from falling down. "Let's go home now." You thanked the Aeons as you nodded, and the two of you made your way to the exit.

"Ah, Dr. Ratio!" one of the members shouted. "I wanted to tell you about the integrals of inverse tri-"

"Your integrals of inverse trigonometric functions exam, in which you barely passed with 71%? I'd rather not. Now excuse me, we're making our leave."

Well that shut him up quickly, you thought.

-

"..." Veritas stayed silent when you were back home. The two of you sat on your shared couch and he massaged your back gently, never pressing anywhere too hard to help you relax. he also made something to drink and some snacks for you, but you simply stayed still as you relished in the massage. It always seemed to calm you down.

"Thanks, I feel better now."

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

"I'm fine, I already told you!"

The other members of The Family looked at you with wide eyes as you snapped at Sunday. He noticed you behaving rather different today and wanted to make sure you were okay, but after asking if you were feeling well- that was your last straw.

You quickly made your way, left through one of the many halls in Dewlight Pavilion and shut the door behind you vehemently. When you weren't hearing any chatter anymore, you relaxed a tiny bit, yet you couldn't stop fidgeting with your fingers, the voices of The Family lingering in your mind, still.

Being the lover of the head of the oak family was no easy matter by itself. Doubt amongst The Family members and the locals of Penacony occurred overnight and the feeling it left you with wasn't pleasant- not at all. Now, a gathering with all members of The Family, where the majority didn't like you and talked behind your back, was too much. You lost your focus at the very beginning already and the meltdown just now was what you needed to actually leave.

You sat down on one of the many couches that were scattered across the Pavilion and took a deep breath, focusing on you, and you only, your head hanging low. You had noticed the Origami Birds on the railings and thanked them in your mind for not chirping- or making any noise at all, actually.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to make you feel angry."

You recognized your lover's voice and sighed, shaking your head softly as you mumbled, "don't. I was just..."

Sunday sat beside you and draped a blanket over your shoulders. A weighted one, you noticed. He took your hand in his softly as he traced some circles on the back of your hand, the gesture making you actually quite calmer.

You focused on his hands and let relief wash over you with time- it must have been at least 10 minutes since he arrived and yet, he didn't stop, nor did he say anything in the time. You smiled to yourself as you felt your mind becoming clearer, shifting your gaze from your hand to his face.

"Thanks, I... really needed that." you said and he shared your glance, a small smile plastered on his lips again. "Just tell me if you need more time to relax. I'll give you all the time you need."

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: scallops

I may have only discussed them once before on this series, but I'm not saying "bye" to bivalves. One of the coolest bivalve subgroups are the scallops. While most Bivalves live in one spot their entire lives, scallops boldly go where no clam has gone before and take to the seas, actively swimming.

(Image: a pile of captured scallops. They are bivalves with shells shaped like hand fans with two wing-like structures near the hinge. The shells have ridges running from the hinge to the outer edge. Small pink ID tags have been glued to them. End ID)

Scallops are members of the family Pectinidae. As with all bivalves, they have two shells that interlock with a pair of valves which form hinges. The two shells are not identical. Most scallops prefer to rest on one valve (usually the right one), which results in that shell growing more rounded than the other one. Growing from the back of the shell near the hinge are two structures called wings, ears, or auricles, which are unique to scallops. Another shell feature unique to scallops is the ctenolium, a honeycomb shaped structure that is used to help distrubute byssal threads. Byssal threads are structures found in most bivalves. They are strong and sticky filaments that attach bivalves to rocks. Most scallops only attach themselves to rocks as juveniles and lose the ctenolium as adults. The scallops shell has a distinctive and usually symmetrical shape. Many have distinctive ridges running from hinge to the front of the shell. These are supported by structures called ribs. These provide extra integrity to the shell, but increase weight, requiring an evolutionary balancing act to get the most benefit out of them.

(Image: a live scallop with the opening facing the camera. Inside the shell is a fleshy structure with multiple small tentacles and two rows of small, blue eyes. There is algae and a barnacle growing on the shell. End ID)

The inside of the shell contains the body of the scallop. A large portion of the interior is taken up by the adductor muscle, which attaches to the inside of both shells. The adductor muscle of scallops is larger and more developed than those found in most bivalves. In all bivalve species, its purpose is to close the shells. Scallops also use it for swimming. The scallop adductor muscle is made of both smooth and striated muscle tissue. The striated muscle moves fast but tires out quicker and is sued for rapidly opening and closing the shell when swimming. The smooth muscle is slower but uses much less energy, allowing the scallop to hold its shell closed for a long time. As with all bivalves, the shell defaults to the open position thanks to a structure called the hinge ligament and require active muscle contraction to close. Most of the rest of the body is the digestive system, reproductive system, circulatory system, and nervous system. The nervous system is a fairly simple nerve net and lacks a brain. Unlike most bivalves, scallops do not intake food through a siphon. Instead, they open their shells to let water move over a structure that filters out food particles and imbeds them in mucus. cilia then moves the mucus into the mouth and through the digestive system. The digestive system also passes through the heart. Around the opening of the shell is a structure called the mantle. The mantle is lined with tentacles that help filter out inedible things from the water.

(image: a scallop with one shell removed to show the internal anatomy. End ID)

Also along the mantle are two rows of eyes, one for each shell and up to 200 in total. Most bivalves don't have eyes. Scallops, being swimming animals, do have eyes and they are strange, not just in comparison to vertebrate eyes, but in comparison to the eyes of other mollusks. Each eyeball has a lens, a pupil, two retinas, and at the back, a system of mirrors that direct and focus light in a similar manner as telescopes. The mirrors are composed of guanine (the same stuff as the "G" nucleotide in DNA) and are shaped like convex squares. There can be over 100,000 mirrors in each eye. For a long time, it was thought that the proximity of the mirrors to the retinas would result in an unfocused, blurry image. It has recently beed discovered that the cells that eye can change shape, potentially adjusting the mirrors for a sharper image. Scallops also have more opsins (light-sensing proteins in the retina) than humans and they may not be evenly distributed, potentially allowing different eyes to see different parts of the light spectrum. While it's not clear how much information the scallops can interpret with their lack of a brain, they at least can tell the difference between ares of contrast and can detect motion. Scallops seem to mainly use their vision to detect predators and to adjust their swimming and feeding behavior.

(Image: a close-up shot of scallop eyes. They are blue balls with a black pupil. End ID)

Now for the reason Spongebob turned scallops into the undersea equivalent of birds. Unlike the vast majority of bivalves, who are either immobile or bury themselves in the sediment, scallops are free-swimming. At least most of them, there are some species that live their lives attached to rock or another structure, like mussels or oysters. The body plan of scallop shells is adapted to facilitate swimming. They have two main means of locomotion called swimming and jumping. Both involve the scallop opening the shell to intake water, then rapidly closing it to force the water out. While swimming, the water is ejected through small holes near the hinge called exhalant apertures. The water is forced over the shell's wings and can be sent out over the left or right wing. Most of the time, they will alternate which wing the water is pushed over, resulting in a zig-zag movement. In jumping, the water is forced out the way it came, propelling the scallop backwards. It usually comes to a rest on the sediment between jumps. Both swimming and jumping cost a lot of energy and the scallop will have to rest afterwards. their locomotion is used to avoid predation, with starfish being their main predators. Some species also have a muscular foot that can extend from the shell and is used to bury the scallop.

(Gif: a scallop swimming over a field of seagrass, showing off the zig-zag motion and its ability to alter its course. End ID)

Some species of scallop are dioecious, meaning they have distinct males and females. Others are simultaneous hermaphrodites while still others are protandrous sequential hermaphrodites, beginning their lives as males and becoming females when they get older. Their reproductive organs are called roe and are red in females and white in males. Scallops are broadcast spawners. They release eggs and sperm into the water column. After a few weeks, fertilized eggs will hatch into drifting larvae called spat. Spat look like miniature, transparent versions of the adults. As they age, the spat will drop to the seafloor. This event has the delightful name of spatfall. The spat use byssal threads to attach themselves to whatever they can find and will remain like that until they have matured. Most species lose their byssal threads as adults, but a few retain them and do not become swimmers. Depending on species, scallops can live for up to 20 years.

(Image: a group of spat housed in captivity They are smaller, transluscent versions of the adults. End ID)

The part of scallops that people usually eat is the adductor muscle, though the roe is also edible. Scallops have been eaten by various peoples for millennia and excessive catching has caused severe declines in wild populations. This has led to the rise of many aquaculture methods for growing scallops from the spat stage. Because scallops are filter feeders, they improve local water quality and when their numbers diminish, water quality worsens. On the other hand, when massive numbers of scallops are raised together in aquaculture, they can cause localized eutrophication, an increase of nutrients that triggers massive microbe growth and reduces oxygen levels in the water. Dredging, the main method of capturing wild scallops, destroys benthic ecosystems, which can take decades to be restored. All of this for a food that tastes like congealed air.

(Image: a scallop aquaculture setup. It consists of multiple nets hanging from the surface of the water, each separated into multiple layers holding multiple scallops. A SCUBA diver is swimming through the area. End ID)

[smol-n-smol]

Odd One Out: Chapter 1

A/N: Finally banged out the first chapter for this story based on this idea I came up with a little while ago. I hope y'all enjoy! I'll make a proper blurb at some point

Also I'm gonna be so fr, I've never done a tag list for a story before, so I'm just pulling this based on people from comments/tags who sounded like they wanted an update? If you want to be added or removed, just let me know :)

Tag List: @axolotlsdreams @seasonschange32 @tthevoic3s @kgonbeiden @coffehbeans

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

With its multilevel Roman-inspired buildings and wide cobblestone paths, the Kingston Academy campus is practically a work of art in and of itself. The early morning air carries the scent of prestige and erudition along a crisp autumn breeze.

Eriel stands before the glimmering gates of the academy, building up the nerve to walk through. He’s intimidated by the size of it all, though probably not for the same reason as most new students. It’s less that he’s afraid of getting lost in such a large place, and more that he’s scared of accidentally crushing something beneath his feet.

As the first giant to attend Kingston, it’s obvious that the school was never designed with his kind in mind. Most of the three story buildings don’t even reach the height of his shoulders. Even the monumental clocktower in the center of the courtyard just barely passes his 46 ft frame. 

If Eriel really wanted to, he could probably  jump right over the entrance gate in front of him. Not that he would ever do such a thing of course!! The thought alone of accidentally damaging something (or worse, someone!) is enough to send a wave of goosebumps down his spine.

Thankfully or unfortunately — Eriel is still trying to decide whether his enrollment here is a good or bad thing — the gilded gates part, at last inviting him onto the campus. There aren’t many students out yet, which makes sense. It’s barely past 7 AM on a Monday. Given the choice, Eriel wouldn’t be up this early either. Even so, the giant’s eyes stay focused on the ground as he navigates to the gymnasium on the other side of campus.

Usually students receive their orientation packets inside the administration building, but given his impressive size, there are only a handful of buildings that Eriel can fit into at all. The gym doubles as an auditorium and a venue for special events. The high ceilings were probably originally meant for improved ventilation and added elegance, but now the only benefit Eriel cares about is that he can at least sit inside without feeling overly claustrophobic.

He enters the building through a modified loading dock door. While he still has to crouch to fit through, it’s much better than having to crawl on his hands and knees like the first time he visited the building for interviews and psychological evaluations. Now that was a humiliating experience. He had been poked and prodded, and asked the most demeaning questions. Eriel shoves those memories back into a mental box. He needs to stay focused on the present moment.

Once he reaches the main area of the gymnasium, Eriel is finally able to sit down properly. The sunlight from the windows warms his skin. While he may not feel hot and cold the way that humans do, it's  a comforting sensation nevertheless. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that he’s back in the forest with his family.

He misses them, despite it only being the first day. If the integration program goes well over the next year, maybe his little sister will be able to join as well. She’d probably learn much more easily in a school than from the limited knowledge that Eriel is able to share with her every so often. It was difficult enough to teach himself most of what he knows — his knowledge a hodgepodge of information from the occasional abandoned books that sometimes wound up in the forest.

He doubts that Lora will keep up with his studies while he’s away, but a big brother is allowed to hope, right?

Just the thought of the young girl falling asleep while poring over a human textbook is enough to make Eriel chuckle aloud.

“I’m glad to see you in bright spirits today,” a voice says, bringing Eriel back to the present moment. 

Mr. Leeway, the head administrator and school guidance counselor, now stands on a walkway that wraps around the walls of the room. Eriel meets his gaze nervously, though less eye-to-eye and more eye-to-full-body. Thankfully with a giant’s enhanced vision, Eriel has no trouble with making out the details of the man before him.

“Good morning, sir,” Eriel greets in response, his back straightening as he now sits in a human’s presence. “Thank you again for allowing me to attend school here.”

The counselor  waves a hand, brushing aside Eriel’s politeness. “No need to be so formal now,” Mr. Leeway responds kindly. “You’ve more than earned your spot here after all.”

Immediately, the giant’s shoulders drop. In retrospect, those were the words he’s been hoping to hear. The ones he needed most for today.

He’s grateful that Mr. Leeway is so accepting of him. Hopefully the rest of the staff are as well. Eriel has yet to meet any of the professors at the academy. While it’s unrealistic to expect everyone to be this friendly, hopefully no one is too afraid or mean. 

As Mr. Leeway patiently talks him through the school handbook, the dorm system, and the giant accommodations scattered across the campus, Eriel can’t help but feel like maybe things will be okay.

“Any other questions?” the counselor asks, pausing long enough for Eriel to shake his head before continuing. “Perfect. Well in that case, I’ll let you get a head start towards your first class. Best of luck, kid.”

Eriel sits still until the human leaves before at last rising stiffly to exit the building.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The campus is much livelier now than it was less than an hour ago. Students walk in small groups to different destinations — some dressed in uniform and heading to classes, while other folks are still in pajamas, clearly in search of their first meal.

Eriel is one of the less fortunate folks, his first class starting at 9 AM. He’s always been a bit of an early riser, as most giants tend to be, but part of him wishes that he opted for a schedule with a later start time. He’d appreciate a bit more time before having to face his new peers.

Mr. Leeway assured him that all the students received a special training and information session on interacting with giants. In theory, everyone should be prepared for this transition. And yet, as Eriel rises to a standing position, stretching slightly to relieve his back of some of its stiffness,  it’s as if the whole world holds its breath.

Everyone stops whatever they’re doing once Eriel reaches his full height. The slight crack of his joints resounds throughout the quiet air, unintentionally drawing even more attention to the giant. 

The poor students closest to him quickly back away, and one especially frightened soul even faints. Eriel winces at that. The reception makes sense, and honestly, it could be a lot worse.

Slowly, the giant takes a step, just a small one in the direction of his class. Immediately, a group of nearby students begins to run away, despite the ample space Eriel makes sure to leave between himself and any humans. The giant sighs but continues on his way. What else can he do?

It takes only a couple of minutes for Eriel to cross the campus to his destination. The English building stands before him, just barely reaching his chest. There’s no chance that Eriel is going to be able to squeeze into the building itself, much less one of the classrooms inside. For pretty much all of his classes, he’ll have to sit outside and listen in through the windows. 

Eriel follows the instructions in his handbook packet to find the window for his first class. A large awning has been set up along that side of the building — big enough for Eriel to be able to sit beneath for protection from the weather. He’s used to sitting outside for prolonged periods of time, but he appreciates the cover anyways. It will certainly help to keep his notes neat at least.

With the few minutes he has before class begins, Eriel puts down his backpack and digs out his notebook and pencil. The set was a gift from his mom — the pages were re-usable and the pencil was designed to provide more or less endless writing. Once he settles down in his dorm, he’ll be able to type everything up on the computer that the school provided him with, but this combination is much more efficient for carrying between classes.

Intro to English Literature, Eriel writes on the first page, taking his time in making the headline look pretty. It gives him an excuse to keep his head down and avoid the watchful gaze of the other students around him.

It’s only when the bell rings that he at last looks up, positioning his face so he can clearly see the blackboard through the window.

“Good morning, class,” the professor says as she enters the room. Her brown hair is done up in a bun and a pair of quirky glasses accentuate her wide grin. Her smile falters as her eyes meet Eriel’s, but props to her for managing to keep up the expression at all. The same can’t be said for the other ten or so students sitting in the classroom, who look back at him with expressions ranging from fear to disgust to cold interest.

“I’m Professor Dockerty,” the teacher continues, her introduction regaining the attention of most of the students. One boy is a bit slower to turn away, his blue gaze unabashedly staring right at Eriel. And then, the boy — Ashton, based on his response as Professor Dockerty takes attendance — smiles at him.

Okay, it’s more of a smirk, but even that’s better than the other looks.

“Did I miss anyone?” the professor asks.

Eriel gulps but shyly raises a hand, limbs tense and heart pounding as he draws additional attention to himself. A few of the students flinch as his fingers come into view of the window, and upon seeing that reaction, Eriel immediately puts his hand back down. Hot shame rises in his chest and his cheeks burn as he realizes the fear that a simple one of his actions could cause.

“I don’t think I heard my name, ma’am,” the giant all but whispers, desperately wishing for this moment to be over already.

Professor Dockerty laughs nervously, glancing down at her papers again. “Oh my, I must have missed it. Eriel, correct? Our giant student? Great! Well, if that's everyone then let’s start by going over the syllabus.”

Eriel doesn’t get a chance to say anything throughout her ramble, but the professor is already handing out paper packets to the students.. There are just enough for everyone in the room. Eriel doesn’t even bother asking if there are any extras for him.

[cecilxa]

hi is it alright if i request kaeya, diluc and thoma (separate) with a reader who feels very insignificant next to them and their achievements, hurt to comfort pls <333

i see you, i cherish you

contents: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationships, gn!reader, monologues in each part so have fun with that haha

cw: negative thoughts, overall sadness and insecurites, feelings of emptiness, crying, food

a/n: first of all, ty anon for being incredibly patient! i'm so so sorry this took so long to fulfill, but i really hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

kaeya– pavo ocellus

Even with one eye, you consider Kaeya to have achieved and gone through so much you couldn’t even imagine happening to yourself. From losing his parents to another parent, and on top of that, his rather- for lack of better words- rocky relationship with his brother, he’s gone through so much and emerged so strong. This comes to the problem at hand. You. Even though he may not have such a clean and honest reputation, people still respect him, evident through their affirming glances and the straightening of their backs whenever he walks by. You, on the other hand, are merely thought of as an accessory, an addition to his ever-growing collection of precious items, tagging along for the sake of it. 

It’s draining to keep thinking like this, you know, but you can’t help the thoughts that constantly invade your mind, constantly reminding you of how insignificant you are compared to Kaeya. You’ve done nothing of value; you’ve done nothing to help the people of Mondstadt, and you’ve done nothing for yourself at this point! He seems like such a respected figure, and you seem so little compared to him, you might as well just live your life inside forever and no one would notice you were gone. 

Tears start escaping from your eyes, and you don’t bother to try and catch them with your mouth like you did when you were younger, because what’s the point? You’re going to eventually start crying again, and again and again. You’re just not important enough and you haven’t done enough and you just feel so small, and so empty. Curling up into the foetal position, you let the sadness wash over you.

—

Kaeya hurries back to your shared home. He’s been looking forward to this, the thought of holding you in your arms and being able to kiss your delightful mouth is enough motivation for him to be tying up any loose ends his (interrogations) job may bring and finishing up the stacks of paperwork his other colleagues have piled up out of laziness. Honestly, some people these days have no moral integrity!

Unlocking the door, and walking in, he immediately notices how quiet it is. That’s strange, considering how he can usually find you either in the kitchen, preparing some form of dinner whenever he comes back home late, or in the hallway right in front of him, welcoming him back home instead. There’s no one in either of those rooms, and when he calls out your name and no one calls back, he begins to get worried. He can’t lose you, not ever, so when a fresh wave of panic tries to take over, he tries his hardest to stay calm and think about things logically. The next thing to do would be to check upstairs. He’s bounding up them, two at a time, his strides revealing how much he’s actually worrying about your welfare, but he doesn’t even reach the top when he hears your cries. 

Not even caring anymore, he bursts inside your bedroom to find you curled up on your bed, body wracking with tears, shaking periodically. A myriad of emotions swirl through him. Anger, at whoever made you feel like this- he stores a mental note to free up some time later that week- relief- well, at least you aren’t missing or gone, but most of all, sorrow. Sorrow at your sorry state, sorrow at the fact you feel like this, sorrow that echoes deep in his bones; a sorrow that makes his heart twinge in uncomfortable ways. He walks over to the bed, and lies next to you, facing your body. 

Gently wrapping his arms around you, he whispers sweet nothings as you cry into his chest, each one making his eyes soften, and grip tighten.

“Please tell me what’s troubling you. I can’t have my darling all wound up, can I? It’s my duty as a knight to make sure all the citizens of Mondstadt are happy and healthy, wouldn’t you say?”

You don’t respond to his questions, like he thought you would anyway, so he changes tact.

“Darling, I beg. I don’t like seeing you upset, and know I’ll deal with anyone who tries to harm you, so please tell me what’s wrong. Whatever you say, I’ll make it right, you don’t have to lift a single finger, I promise.”

You sniffle a bit at this, tears coming slower, and you can feel his warm stare on your head, hands stroking your waist in a way that’s always made you feel relaxed. Or maybe that’s just his arms. Voice cracking up from all the crying, you respond, albeit with a wobble.

“I-I just haven’t done enough, Kaeya. I haven’t done enough!”

Bursting into a fresh set of tears, you wail into his chest once more, and once more, Kaeya shushes you. He kisses the top of your head, one that he hopes conveys his patience for you, and your words. He lets it linger for a couple of seconds before speaking again.

“To me, you’ve always been enough. Why else would you have stolen my heart, and why else would I have allowed it to happen?”

“But, you’ve just done so much and I’ve done so little!”

Kaeya frowns. He now knows what the problem is, but he feels clueless as to how you could ever feel this way. To him, you’ve done so much both for the people of Mondstadt and himself, helping out whenever you can, and always with a smile on your face.

“I’m going to stop you there, darling. Know that nobody thinks lowly of you. I may be the Cavalry Captain, but I have no horses; you may be my partner, but you are also a person. You may not see this, but everyone else can. You have done, and helped so many people that they come up to me- even when I’m out in the tavern- to talk about how you had helped them that same day. Apart from seeing your face, those little conversations are the highlight of my night, and they should be yours, too. So don’t worry, darling, from now on, I’ll tell you those messages and we’ll see how truly significant you actually are. I love you, wholly, and I never want you to feel like that ever again.”

His arms tighten around your waist as he presses a lingering kiss on your head. You squeeze back with the pressure of a feather, and a soft smile breaks through his face. 

diluc– noctua

There are many ways you can say the name Diluc Ragnvindr. The Darkight Hero, saving grace of Mondstadt, free from the shackles of the Knights of Favonius, or perhaps, Master of the Dawn Winery, filthy rich, yet hard-working, producing possibly the best wine in the whole of Teyvat. No matter what name people utter, it always comes along with bucket loads of respect and admiration, constantly failing to hide the fact that they hold him in extremely high regard, much higher than what you could ever hope for. People speak of his courage, perseverance, and determination (well, maybe apart from Kaeya) when all they say to you is to ask how Diluc is. 

It’s frustrating, no- it’s angering and belittling, and it’s as if you don’t have anything to stand for other than being his partner! He gets all of this respect and you just have to stand by his side! It’s as if they don’t even see you as a person with achievements, which- well, what have you done that’s worthy of praise? Nothing, you guess, maybe becoming Diluc’s partner was the peak of your life; it’s only going to go downhill from here, you’ve done nothing good, you’ve done nothing worthy; maybe you don’t deserve him at all. And- oh there the tears come, hot and salty, droplets dripping down your face. 

–

There are many ways Diluc says your name. He says it gently, with hushed undertones and comforting hugs; he says it passionately, with longing in his eyes and a bold thump in his heart. But most of all, he says it so full of love, as if you had hung all the stars in the sky, full of unending, fulfilling, admiring adoration. Whenever your name leaves his mouth, people can’t help but stop and stare; it’s just so obvious how much the Master of the Dawn Winery cares for his special someone. Whenever your name leaves his mouth, there’s an ever-present look in his eye, one that reveals everything he feels about you, a look that proclaims out his devotion. 

So when Diluc finds you- alone, sobbing violently into your pillows- he doesn’t hesitate to place you on his lap, arms cradling your fragile figure, as he utters your name again. He says it again and again, stroking your hair softly, waiting patiently (as if he wouldn’t wait an eternity) while he lets you cry into his shoulder, eyebrows slightly furrowing at the sight of seeing you so upset to get to a point like this. It’s not fair, he thinks, for you to feel like this when you deserve nothing but the opposite, and- he shouldn’t blame himself for this- but what if it has to do with him? You know he’s busy, and he knows he’s busy, but what if you’re feeling as if he doesn’t love you anymore?

Oh, what a lie, as if he could never love you, what a lie, as if he could never look forward to seeing you, as if he could never touch and kiss you as if it were his last. Those people weren’t lying when they said that he was truly in deep, too deep to ever get out of the hole he had dug for himself. Diluc doesn’t mind, though, if he’s in there with you, he would stay like that forever. 

This doesn’t fix the situation at hand, however, and as much as Diluc would like to be able to fix all of your problems, the world doesn’t work like that, and so the next best thing is to help you try and feel better.

You’re still crying, and with every sob that you let out, a piece of his heart seemingly shatters into the void, and he thinks the only way to repair it would be to see your smile again. However, you’ve changed positions to where you’re both hugging each other. You on his lap, arms around his shoulders, and his arms around your waist, sporadically kissing your cheek every once in a while. He sighs, though not at you- never at you, eyes heavy with sadness at your state, and whispers gentle words, cradling your head with his hand.

“Look at me, darling. I love you eternally. I love you with my whole heart, and I can’t even fathom how much it beats for you. I do not know why you’re crying so, but I hate it. You do not deserve whatever this is you are feeling, and I know you as much as I know the back of my own hand. To me, you are the greatest person I have ever known. You have the ability to make me feel things I didn’t know I could, and you made me love, the most important thing of all. I have slain and destroyed, but at what cost? You have healed, and perhaps that is what I love about you so. So please do not cry, darling. You have done so much for me, and you have done so much for others. I know that much, so please, can I see you smile again?

You gaze up at him, eyes widening, as they fill up with tears once more. But not sad tears this time, happy ones instead. You kiss him, salty and passionate and thankful. It’s rather amazing how he manages to find the exact words to comfort you. 

Diluc may be considered stoic, and quiet to most, but for you, he’d recite the longest scripture he could just to wipe your tears away. 

thoma- rubeum scutum

The past few days for Thoma have been particularly busy. Both the Kamisato siblings required some type of assistance that had needed to be by their side for an extended amount of time, often just accompanying them with daily tasks around Inazuma that they may need to be called to. He doesn’t mind though, because at the end of each day, even though he may arrive late, even though he may find you asleep on the couch once he finally arrives back home, he gets to see your face, and gets to carry you gently off to bed, pressing some kisses to your forehead as he does so. 

However, what Thoma doesn’t get to see, is the constant emotion of insignificance you feel next to him. You’re truly proud of him, you really are, and you’re glad he’s so busy and looked after all the time, but sometimes you wish that you could feel that way too. Sometimes you wished that you could receive the same workload as him- just to be able to say that your superiors trust you to be able to deal with larger things, like him. But you don’t and now you feel useless. Especially now, since he’s been kept working late for the Kamisato Clan, you’ve been chased by negativity for the days that he’s arrived late home, and it’s catching up to you.

It’s suffocating, you just want to be recognised by someone, for someone to be proud of you and to be able to say that they respect and admire your ethics and hardworking nature. But instead, you do mundane tasks everyday, get home, wait for Thoma, then go to sleep. You want something more; you yearn for some sort of sign in your life that you’ve achieved something, that you’ve created meaning for someone else. You just feel so tired of it all, you just want to go to sleep.

Staring at the wall blankly, you don’t even notice Thoma creeping in with a smile on his face, only to be replaced by a concerned frown. It’s the end of his gruelling week of assisting and accompanying, and there’s nothing more he wants than to be able to lay in bed with you, the one he loves with all his heart. He even prepared a cake for you to share, your favourite flavour! But when he sees you, devoid of emotion, a grim expression on your face unlike your usual self, he doesn’t hesitate to place the cake aside- all but forgotten- and rush over to where you’re sitting. 

“Baby…?” 

He whispers, almost scared to raise his voice, as if he would upset you even further. When you don’t respond, he gently raises you up to your feet, so tenderly, you know he’s done this before. He tilts your head up to look at him, and he gets scared. He gets scared at the empty look on your face, and he musters up all the love he can get (which- to be frank- is a lot) to smile at you. Even though he’s scared, the eyes are the window to the soul, and his truly reveal how much he cares for you. He searches for feeling in yours, and when he spots just a glimmer, he leans down to give you a gentle peck on the lips. 

“Do you want to tell me what’s troubling you? I’ll do my very best to sort it out, you know I’d do anything for you.”

Comforted by the sound of his voice and affirmations, you regain some feeling in your body, and you feel less exhausted. 

“Sorry, Thoma. I just- I’m not feeling too good.”

“Oh, would you like anything then? I have a really good soup recipe that I can make for you, just get some rest, and it’ll be ready in just a few minutes! I would prefer for you to feel better sooner rather than later.”

You sigh. 

“No. That’s not what I meant. I mean- well- you’ve just been so busy and I’ve been… here, doing nothing. You’ve done so much already, and I haven’t done anything at all, I just want to feel as if I’ve done something… significant like you, that’s all.”

Tears start pooling at the corners of your eyes, and Thoma hurries to wipe them away with his hands. His heart clenches at your confession, worry evident in his eyes. If only you knew how much you mean to him, how much he thinks that you’re the significant one in the grand scheme of things, and how much he values your existence. 

“No, don’t say that kind of stuff, it hurts. You know I love you so, so, so much and that I think you’ve done so much- too much- that I can’t possibly repay you. You don’t know how much you’ve impacted my life, and that I’m so grateful you came into it. I think others would agree too. I look forward to seeing you every day, y’know? You’re the highlight every single time, so don’t think of yourself as worthless, or insignificant, because I think if you weren’t here, my heart would have a massive gap right down the middle! I love you so much, baby, and it pains me to see you hurt like this, but I want you to believe that compared to me, you’re the one who shines bright. You’re the star here, not me.”

He pauses when you don’t respond. Maybe you need some time for yourself, sometimes that’s just the case. 

“I’ll make the soup now, okay? I love you.”

Turning around to head out, a pair of arms from behind him encase his waist. 

He laughs, turning around again to face you. Stroking your hair gently, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and wonders whether you can tell how much he truly loves you. How much he would do for you, and sacrifice for you. Thoma mutters a quiet ‘thank you’, and you look up at him, confused, tears still in your eyes. 

“Surely I should be the thankful one, Thoma? Thank you, though.”

Your voice goes quiet at the last part. 

He smiles softly, eyes drooping ever so slightly in admiration, in patience and in understanding. 

“My pleasure.”

a/n: tysm for reading to the end! likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! ❤️

[scuderiasundays]

a promise is a promise

summary: sliding into a stranger's dm's, nostalgia for your first date, and a promise sealed with a kiss + a little insta au at the end 💙

words: 1,071

a/n: my first time writing for mr. leclerc! thank you for the req, @headinthecloudssblog 🫶🏼 tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @formulaforza, @thatsdemko, and @diorleclerc because i trust you all deeply. feedback is much appreciated as always. hugs and kisses!

Charles loved Adele and he sure wasn't shy about it. While the other racing drivers were hyping themselves up with rock, EDM, or rap, the Monegasque’s AirPods (which he often lost) were blaring “Someone Like You.” You, yourself, wondered how the powerful yet melancholy ballad could put him in the right headspace to drive at breathtaking speeds of up to 362 km/h. 

You were nothing short of euphoric when it was announced that she would be extending her exclusive residency in Las Vegas. It would be a dream come true if you could see her live during the weekend of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. However, a bitter reality crept in when you discovered the final show was scheduled for November 4, a mere two weeks before the two of you would arrive stateside. Charles would be racing at Interlagos, while you would be stuck at a clinical genetics conference in St Andrews.

“I was going to get us tickets to thank you for your service in the Great War!” You huffed as you watched Charles tie the laces of his Puma running shoes, visibly let down by the news. All of your friends thought the racing driver had used his F1 connections to get you those coveted floor seats, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Your boyfriend had spent 18 hours in a virtual queue on one of his few days off, using multiple of his sim racing monitors to secure tickets to the Eras Tour. Arthur had mocked his older brother about how “whipped” he was, joking that he was relieved someone else’s screen time was as horrific as his own.

With a light kiss on your neck, Charles wrapped his arms around you from behind, his voice filled with affection. "It’s like this, ma chérie. I'm going for a run with Andrea," he whispered. As he headed towards the door, his shoulders slumped and his AirPods in, it became clear today's run would be more of a recovery run, a moment for him to recharge physically but more so emotionally.

Determined to bring Charles closer to his idol, you swiftly grabbed your phone from the kitchen island and opened Adele's Instagram profile. Sliding into someone's DMs had never been your style, let alone that of a Grammy-winning artist, but you figured there was nothing to lose.

"Hi, this is Y/N. I know it's unlikely that you'll ever see this, but I'm taking a leap of faith for my boyfriend Charles, who is undoubtedly your biggest fan. Our first date perfectly encapsulates his essence," you began typing, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. "He took me on the most gorgeous twilight yacht ride, accompanied by a meticulously curated playlist of his favorite songs. Upbeat songs like 'A Sky Full of Stars,' 'Pepas,' and 'Feel So Close' filled the air. But then, out of nowhere, a hauntingly beautiful piano melody began to play."

Pausing for a moment, a reminiscent smile graced your face as the memory came roaring back to life. "'Is this Adele?'" you had asked, a glass of rosé in your hand. Charles looked so at peace compared to the tense expression he sometimes wore during race weekends. He had offered you his blue Ferrari sweatshirt to ward off the evening chill and confirmed that it was indeed Adele. Charles shared that he, unlike most, found comfort in what he deemed “depressive music.”

Since that fateful evening, the British songstress' music had become an integral part of your relationship. It served as the soundtrack to your road trips, where you took turns belting ‘Rolling in the Deep.’ It sparked heated debates about whether Adele’s ‘Daydreamer’ or Sade’s ‘By Your Side’ should be your first dance song. It even led to late nights, downing espresso shots just so you could listen to her latest album the second it dropped.

You reached for your phone once again. "That night ended with Charles’ hand resting on my thigh as he drove me home to 'Make You Feel My Love.’ Your music has been the soundtrack to so many of our most intimate moments, and it would mean the world if you could find some time to perform for him," you typed, pouring your heart into the message. You added, "I know this is a long shot, but I..." before eagerly hitting the "Send" button. With a growing sense of accomplishment, you decided to run to the grocery store to pick up some fresh salmon for dinner.

Unable to keep a secret to save your life, you shared what you’d been up to with Charles. "You DM'd the queen? Je t'aime, ma belle, but I highly doubt she'll reply," he playfully teased, rolling his eyes as he wiped the dish you had just handed him.

"What if she does?" you retorted, a hint of hope in your voice. "You know how I treasure you so much I don’t even trust myself to take you on a hot lap? We’ll do it in Las Vegas if and only if Adele responds." His devilish Leclerc wink accompanied the mischievous remark, leaving you to wonder how this crazy turn of events would unfold.

Weeks passed, and with each passing day, the likelihood of a reply dwindled. Charles was away in Qatar when the doorbell unexpectedly rang. A courier stood before you, holding a grand bouquet of white roses along with a message card. Assuming it was from him, your hands trembled as you read the sign-off on the ivory white card. There it was, unmistakably etched in the most elegant script. Five letters. Adele.

You snatched the card eagerly and read it over countless times, overcome with disbelief. It turned out that Adele's devoted fan base had made her very much aware of Charles' fanboying. She expressed her delight and confirmed that she would be more than happy to sing a few songs for you over dinner so long as she could score some “cool mom points” and bring her son Angelo to the race.

Your hands trembled with sheer excitement as you shared the spectacular news with Charles. He blamed his nonexistent allergies as tears welled up in his eyes, but you saw right through his lies.

"So, you'll be taking me on that hot lap, Leclerc?" you grinned, blissed out seeing him so happy. "Bah oui, une promesse est une promesse," he replied, sealing his vow with a well-earned kiss.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, and 61,616 others

yourusername: weekends with adele (and charles) 🎰🍸❤️

fan1: “it’s true that, after a bad day, if you listen to that, you cry. you don’t feel any better. but i like it. i like the mood of depressive music.” - chuck leclerc

charles_leclerc: i have the best girlfriend in the world! tu est simplement la meilleure ❤️

adele: she’s one of a kind! thank you for letting me bear witness to your love x

yourusername: you, sir, are the love of my life. thanks for tolerating my impulsivity!

fan2: i need a charles and adele collab and i need it NOW 😤

joris_trouche: he’ll never shut up about this

charles_leclerc: prepare to be sick of me! wait, you and @andferrari007 already are 🫣

scuderiaferrari: c² music challenge but adele songs only?

carlossainz55: why play when i don’t even stand a chance 🤨

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮  tags ; desi-coded reader (tbh...specifically bangladeshi dkjfsdj), pre-wedding celebration, so blatantly selfship coded i might have to delete it if the shame kicks in , 18+

Night air wisps against your warm skin like thin threads of silk as you step away from the party - with the assistance of Sakura, who held the door open like his life depended on it.

Your arms are stiff from how long you've been holding them in the same position, but after upwards of three hours - all the mendhi required for your upcoming wedding ceremony has been put on.

From the tips of your fingers all the way down to your elbows and even some parts of your feet. It's the one aspect of the celebration you've always looked forward too. When you glance down and see it, its completely surpassed your expectations

Through the light of your window is your family and friends, traditional folk music and ballad love songs play as guest dance and laugh in the warm lights of your living room. Laughter bubbles through the crack letting out some air and you smile to yourself, careful not to touch anything.

The feeling of drying mendhi on your skin is nostalgic even in it's mild discomfort, a slight itch in the intricate designs covering your palms. You sniff a little from the cool air, lungs filling with the earthy, heavy scent of mendhi paste and the sharp bitterness of mustard oil.

You slip further away until you end up enough distance away for the sound to quiet. Crickets chirp and the wind blows - as if the whole world is feeling soft.

You aren't expecting Umemiya to pop out from anywhere. He must've noticed you leaving and followed you out. You try not to smile and fail when he makes his way towards you.

Umemiya grins brighter than the sun. In the dead of night and even amidst the pleasant atmosphere - nothing shines quite like him. He looks good in the clothes your extended family so painstakingly picked out for him. A panjabi and salwar to match, a pleasantly deep shade of blue to go with his eyes. Your kameez is more complicated, but the tailoring similarities of the florals and beadwork make you happy no matter how trivial. It feels a little more worth getting three outfits tailored looking at him.

He cuts a fine figure in general, you think.

He approaches first with worry. A furrow in his brow.

"You okay?"

You smile at him and then smile a little more at the way it makes him relax instantly.

"I'm good." You take a deep breath, hands stiff at your sides and suddenly itching to find his to hold. "Was getting hot and stiff sitting for so long."

"Oh, is it done finally? Am I allowed to look?"

"Were you gonna avoid looking at my arms for three days if I said no?" You tease. Umemiya's eyes fill with mirth and sincerity.

"If I had too."

Silly. You love him, you think. You shake your head. "You can look. Might be a little hard to see even with the street light though."

"That's okay." He says, and there's something deeply doting in his voice that makes you feel like you might sink. "An excuse to get close to you is always nice to have."

You hold out your arms and lift your palms gently to Umemiya. His admiration makes your heart swell ten folds. His hands are careful as they slide underneath your own decorate ones, careful not to touch the actual design but to support your forearms and wrists.

"It's so beautiful."

"Right? She did a good job. She's doing Kotoha-chans now."

He makes a little affirmative noise while he draws his eyes along the different shapes and patters. Traditional shapes of roses and marigolds along with inspired cuts. There's a mix of imagery, well integrated - patterns of cranes and cherry blossoms well woven into it as symbolism. Umemiya pauses, most certainly noticing the nuance.

"I like it a lot. You're gonna look so beautiful."

You brush past the words, unable to respond to them without feeling earnest flush. Umemiya is undeterred by this, just offers a smile and another light touch. He leans it to place a kiss to your temple before pulling back.

A thought pops into your head. You wanted to show him eventually - you thought at least after you washed it off, but now seems like a better time.

"Oh and..." You carefully hold your wrist up to him. "See?"

He squints for a long while before breaking out into an impossible grin. Hidden in the wrists of your mendhi design are the characters of his name - integrated into the piece. You can see the very moment it clicks.

"Is that...is it traditional?"

"Maybe? It's common at least. I thought it'd be more special with the Japanese characters though.”

A little nod to him and to you. He's silent for a long while, deep in thought about something. You don't know what exactly.

"I love it," He says, then looks up at you. He presses his forehead against yours, a gentle tap that still manages to catch you off guard as he does. The decorative teep on your forehead presses a little into his skin as he does it but you don't make a move to pull away from his affection. "I love you."

You tilt your head a little, pretending to wipe sweat from your brow.

"That's a relief."

He shakes his head. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Could you feed me something off the table inside? I'm hungry."

He almost seems upset he didn't think of it first. He nods. "I'll be right back. Stay put but be careful."

"I'm right infront of the house Hajime."

"It's always good to be careful. I'd be sad if my wife went missing just days before,"

“I’ll be safe,”

“And I’ll be quick,”

He pauses before he goes back through the door, turning suddenly before he smiles again. Impossibly gently, he runs his fingers through his hair before running back to you.

Another kiss to the corner of your mouth followed with one to your lips. The last one carefully place on the drying mendhi on your arms just where his name sits.

“I love you,”

You soften. “I love you too, Hajime. You can dote on me as much as you want when you come back.”

He grins. “I’ll hold you to that.”

glossary of terms:

mendhi - more commonly known as henna, a special skin safe paste used for decorative designs. commonly red or black.

panjabi - bangla word for kurta. basically a long item of menswear that stops just past the knee or above.

teep - also known as bindi. a decorative sticker or red dot placed in the center of the forehead.

** more cultural notes: in bangladesh mustard oil is often used to deepen the color of mendhi. it normally goes on after or while almost dry.

[jo-harrington]

On-the-Job Training (A Store Manager Verse Story - Steve Harrington/Reader)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve has a crush on the Dippin' Dots cashier.

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Late Summer of 1985, Steve and Robin work at Scoops, Reader works at Dippin' Dots, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Enemies to Lovers(sort of?), Tie in with the Store Manager Verse

Note: Ok what started off as a silly little conversation about what flavor chapstick each ST character would use turned into this and I typically don't write Steve...but I had to give him some love.

Tagging my loves who were integral to that convo to thank them for inspiration especially Drac who started it all. This is for you bb. @dr-aculaaa @mopeymopeymouse @chestylarouxx @somnambulic-thing @fracturedarkness @br0ck-eddie

Technically slightly anachronistic because Dippin' Dots didn't open until 1988 but I'm a stickler for accuracy in the regular series. This is just a fun little do-dad.

You can find my masterlist here for more fics featuring pretty much exclusively Eddie Munson content but also a little Steve.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Largely unedited; I didn't even re-read it. It's might suck. Enjoy!

---

"Ahoy! One U.S.S. Butterscotch!"

Steve never thought that this would be his future after graduation.

This summer he should have been living it up before he went away to college and made something of himself. Lifeguarding at the pool, going to all the parties, hanging out with his friends.

Instead, his life went to shit, Nancy Wheeler had broken up with him, he had gotten rejection letter after rejection letter from the schools he had applied to...and instead of working at the pool like he had every summer since he turned 16, he had a crappy job slinging ice cream at Scoops Ahoy of all places at the new StarCourt Mall.

"Thanks so much," the sweet lady who had placed the order smiled at him and handed the sundae to her son. "Look at that Frankie, your favorite." The little boy shot Steve a grin complete with his two front teeth missing and Steve melted a little bit.

Alright, it wasn't so bad. He got to make people smile, he got some spending money--which was nice since his dad had pretty much cut him off, although his mom was sneaking him some cash on the side.

"Look alive dingus," Robin called from the window separating the front of the ice cream parlor from the backroom. "Your schmoopsie poo is here."

"Shut up Rob!" Steve groaned through gritted teeth.

One of the perks of working at the mall was that he got to interact with people of all shapes and sizes and yeah...Steve had tried to use it as a means to get over Nancy. He'd had little hours-long crushes on fellow mall employees, customers, Robin--although working with her made that difficult--hell there was even a manager that had caught his eye towards the beginning of summer except he'd seen Eddie "The Freak" Munson of all people hanging around her.

Although after a few months of seeing Eddie around StarCourt not being a wastoid menace, Steve had to admit...well he wasn't that bad either.

The one who'd caught his eye the most though was you, and yeah...he'd developed an actual big little long-lasting crush.

You, who came around for a root-beer float most afternoons.

You, whose smile made his heart skip a little.

You in your pink polo, teal apron, and white visor with the words Dippin' Dots emblazoned on the front.

The enemy.

And you never let him forget it either.

Steve had been heart eyes over you the first time you had entered into Scoops territory to order your float. Undercover in casual summer clothes a week after the mall had opened. There was just something about you, your smile, your laugh.

Robin teased that he said that about everyone; Steve ignored her.

Then you opened your mouth and said the float was good but the service could have been better. That Steve should stop by Dippin' Dots sometime and see how it was really done.

Shots fired.

It really hurt at first. This was his first real job outside of the community pool, one he had been excited to get. He was really nice, tried his best; why didn't you think so?

"It's called flirting," Robin insisted. "God, you really suck, you know that? How can you ask people out willy nilly and then miss someone flirting with you right in front of your face? Flirt back next time."

So he did.

Every so often he'd mosey across the mall to your kiosk, order a small vanilla cup, and throw a little insult of his own your way. Usually something about how tiny balls of ice cream could never beat an actual scoop. Or about how you didn't count his change the right way, or that your visor was on crooked.

You wouldn't hesitate to get your own comment in. Especially about his choice in flavor.

"You work at an ice cream parlor and you order vanilla?" you questioned. "A hundred flavors to choose from at scoops; do you only get vanilla there too? Vanilla...is good but when you have variety? Order something exciting one day, and then we can talk business, Stevie."

Oof, it steamed him.

But not enough to stop playing the game.

And it left you both grinning so who was he to end the fun.

So when you showed up at Scoops today after not being around for a few days and your smile didn't reach your eyes like it usually did...Steve was suddenly overcome with...well he didn't really know.

"Ahoy, uh, sailor," he greeted and tried to put on his biggest award-winning, tip-earning smile.

"Ahoy," you replied weakly.

"Root beer float?" he asked, already heading over to the case to start scooping ice cream into a cup.

"Uh," you hesitated. "No, just...just a small vanilla cup today."

Steve froze and looked at you. Your shoulders were slumped, you had your visor in your hand, and you were pointedly avoiding eye contact with him.

What was...what was wrong with you?

Where was your fight? Where was your fire? Why, all of a sudden, was your game over?

"Hey, uhm," he coughed awkwardly. "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, Steve," you nodded absently.

"You always get root beer."

"I just want vanilla today."

"The special is salted caramel? I can give you a sample if you're--"

"No, I just want vanilla," you cut him off and rolled your eyes. "You always get vanilla. Why is it a problem if I suddenly do? Vanilla is good too. Maybe vanilla is just...what we both want ok? Nothing else."

He was shocked. That wasn't playful annoyance in your voice; you were just...annoyed.

"Sure," he agreed. "Sure. One small vanilla coming right up."

He got your ice cream and rang you out, and as you were about to leave, he called after you.

"See you in a little while?" he asked.

"If you want." You waved goodbye and headed out of the ice cream parlor.

Steve turned and looked at Robin who simply rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"What just happened?" he asked.

"You're hopeless," she sighed and slammed the shutters on the window closed.

---

Steve roamed around the mall on his break.

Typically, he'd make his way to Dippin' Dots but...that just seemed like a waste of time today.

He'd fixated on your visit for the rest of his shift until his break, analyzing everything he said, everything he did. Everything that could have made you mad at him.

Once he got Robin out of her hiding spot in the back room, he monologued all of his thoughts to her.

She watched him pace back and forth, called him a dingus a few times, a loser a few other times, and then finally sent him on his break with some last words.

"I know you're hearing everything they're saying Steve," she began. "But are you really listening? You just keep...ordering vanilla."

"Uh. Yeah. That's the game."

"It's not a game you...ughhhhh! GO!" She pointed to the exit. "Before I throttle you."

Why couldn't she just tell him? What had he done?

In his rumination, he'd been chewing at his lips. A habit he had pretty much done his entire life when he got nervous.

Shit, and he'd left his chapstick in the car; it was hot, it probably melted by now.

That was one of the little ways you made his life a little better...through your teasing. You had told him, once, that his lips looked dry.

"Maybe invest in some chapstick or something."

He'd gone to Melvald's that same night that you told him and got a 3-pack of strawberry chapstick. All the while wondering if it meant you had been looking at his lips for a while or...

But it was...just another little jab right? Another little flirt? Another part of your game?

Still, he never knew when you might show up so the chapstick became a constant--something that soothed him even, gave him courage--and he always had a tube tucked into the pocket of his shorts, or on the register, or in the cupholder of his car. To swipe on if he knew he was about to see you...or hoped he was.

And now...he desperately needed it, needed his strawberry chapstick--needed you--and it was nowhere to be found.

Steve stopped in his tracks and looked at the stores around him.

WaldenBooks, Regis Salon, JH Camera Repair.

Claires.

Bingo.

He'd seen little kids with their play makeup and sparkly plastic jewelry post up in one of the booths at Scoops after they spent their allowance money at Claire's. He had to find strawberry chapstick there. He'd even take cherry. Something.

Anything.

Steve crossed into the pink-and-purple-and-pop-music-filled oasis to a melodic "Welcome In" from the employee helping a little girl by the ear piercing booth. And as out of place as he felt, he was immediately relieved to see a wall full of eyeshadow palettes and glitter hairspray.

He closed the distance and frantically searched the wall, but it was all novelty makeup. There was one package of Dr. Pepper lip smackers, but the package was half-ripped and the cap was missing; he was a little worried but he figured it was better than nothing.

He was about to snatch it off the hook when that voice sounded behind him.

"Did you need help finding anything?" He immediately turned on his heel to find the employee--the manager, Eddie Munson's girlfriend--standing there in a flourish of tulle and fluorescent colors. "Oh! That's a customer favorite...looks like it's damaged though, let me just..."

She reached out to take the package but Steve reacted instinctually. He quickly grabbed it and clutched it to his chest.

"I don't mind," he tried to reason. "I don't care if it's missing the cap."

"Listen, I can't sell it to you if it's damaged," the manager explained. "It's just not safe. Is there anything else I can help you find though?"

She reached for the package again but he held it back.

"I need this," Steve tried again.

"Oh...kay."

"Because I messed up and this...you know the cashier down at the Dippin' Dots kiosk? Well...I don't know...I pissed them off or something and I just need to...go down and talk to them and I can't."

"So the lip balm is a gift for them? To make amends?"

"No...it's for me because my lips are dry." Steve sighed. "I...ok I know it sounds crazy, but I swear. It's...they got me to start using chapstick because they said my lips were dry and it's this thing we do. We go back and forth and we tease each other.

"But they're mad at me now, and they didn't...I mean they ordered vanilla. They never order vanilla. They hate it when I order vanilla."

"Uh huh." The manager's eyes went a little soft. "I'm not...really following the logic...but I get it."

"You do?"

"You like each other. But you're just...going back and forth. And no one has really...admitted it," she observed. She suddenly burst into laughter and Steve cocked his head to one side in confusion. "Sorry, sorry...it's just...whatafuckincoincidence.

"So are you the one who's afraid of being rejected? Or...are they...or..."

Cue the record scratch in Steve's head.

Rejection.

All summer...all year actually...Steve had been faced with one rejection after another. First Nancy, then all of the college applications, his dad and now...all of the little fleeting mall crushes that he'd asked out that had said no.

Robin had even made a scoreboard that sat in the back whenever someone turned him down.

He thought all this time...he'd become immune to it. But with you...it was easier to think it was just a game than to possibly face the reality that if he asked you out...you'd say no and then the little game would be ruined. And his hopes would be dashed.

He didn't realize that all of his waffling could potentially be hurting you too.

"Why don't you," the manager continued when Steve hesitated to answer, "go down there and talk to them? Even if they're mad at you. Communication is very important. I'm sure if you explain everything, or even...just show that you're willing to bridge the gap, they'd be willing to listen. The worst they could say is no, but if they're already mad, you have nothing to lose. See if they'll give you a chance."

"So I...shouldn't order vanilla this time?" He looked up at her and asked, recalling your words.

Order something exciting, and then we can talk business.

The door had been open for him to ask you out this whole time.

And that's why you ordered vanilla earlier. Because Vanilla meant...meant that this...flirtation...this game...wasn't going anywhere. He hadn't made a move, so you didn't want to wait anymore.

God, he was so stupid.

"Uh, no...don't do that," the manager smiled kindly. She reached out for the broken lip balm and took it from him. "I'll just...damage this out."

"Wait...but my lips are still dry," Steve floundered. "I still need chapstick."

"Do you think there's gonna be some kissing happening?" the manager's eyes narrowed. "I said talk to them, not...plant one on them."

"I just need...something," he begged. "Strawberry...if you have it."

"I think we have strawberry flavored lip gloss by the register."

"I'll take it."

---

So there Steve was, in the concourse by JCPenney, patiently waiting in the line for Dippin' Dots with sticky, strawberry-flavored lips tinted a very nice shade of pink.

As soon as he had swiped the gloss on...as silly as he had felt...he had been reminded of you.

"Next!" your voice sounded every so often and the line got shorter and shorter, and Steve's courage got weaker and weaker. The Claire's manager had been right though...communication...the worst you could tell Steve was "no."

"Next!" You'd be just another tally on Robin's scoreboard. And she could call him a dingus again. She really enjoyed doing that. So some good would at least come from his failure.

"Next!" He'd also get...a cup of Dippin' Dots which...if he had to admit, he kinda enjoyed. He got all the Scoops ice cream he wanted for free but this was different. Ice Cream of the Future and all that. He sort of expected Henderson to come up with something like this, the little nerd; well, if he could never show his face here again, he'd ask the kids if they could figure out how to make some kind of futuristic ice cream for him.

"Ne--oh!" Steve finally got to the front of the line and saw your shocked face. He smiled and waved as he approached the register.

"Hey," he greeted. "I told you I'd see you around."

"You did," you said flatly and scrunched your nose. "So...the usual? Small vanilla cup?"

"Uh no..." Steve said hesitantly. You raised an eyebrow in question. "I uh...can I get a large..."

"Large vanilla?" You sniffed.

"Large Rainbow Ice," he recited after squinting at the menu board. "It's time for something new."

You stared at him silently and Steve couldn't help but doubt himself.

What if Rainbow Ice was the wrong answer? Should he have gone with Banana Split? Shit he should have just stuck with Strawberry. It was his favorite. Strawberry chapstick, strawberry gloss, strawberry ice cream. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Yeah," you finally answered with a beaming smile and Steve's heart soared. "Yeah it is time for something new, isn't it?"

Next Part: Incremental Planning

[theconquerorwormhoard]

Hi, Could you give the idea of reader x twelfth doctor who has Bill as a companion and who in a few words is a bit of a jealous doctor? either because they met someone great on a trip or because the reader is very much involved in his life on earth.

Thanks!

(yessssssssssssss I need to write more 12)

Jealousy

Rating: G

Pairing(s): 12th Doctor x Reader

Tags/TW: 12 is a jealous lad

You were used to trips not quite going the way you'd planned. It was almost a guarantee. But needless to say, rejecting the marriage proposal of a cyborg queen was... Definitely unexpected.

You, the Doctor, and Bill ran through the mechanical castle. "I don't see why it couldn't work out," Bill said, "I mean, she seemed nice enough-"

"Before she sent her guards after us, you mean?" you replied, just before the hallway began to shift. The three of you were trapped in a dead end that hadn't been there before.

The Doctor hadn't stopped fidgeting with his sonic screwdriver the entire chase, and it seemed that he'd finally found what he was looking for. He pointed it at the wall with a flourish, giving you and Bill a tiny grin before grabbing your hand.

The TARDIS was somewhere in the royal gardens, but with the hallways changing, you had no idea where you were supposed to be going. "Doctor, how are we getting out of here?" you asked, panting.

"I've tuned into the queen's frequency, I can reverse all of her changes," he said, and you frowned.

"So she controls the castle?"

"No. She is the castle. She's integrated it all into her upgrades. Quite foolish actually, once we escape, she won't be able to follow," the Doctor explained, tugging you around a corner.

Bill chimed in, "But the guards will! Right? I mean, they're not a part of the castle, they're just movin' on their own."

The Doctor paused before giving a shrug, saying, "If I'm right, the TARDIS is through that door, and we won't have to worry about it."

So the three of you bolted to the door, which thankfully led out into the gardens. The TARDIS waited patiently in the center of the queen's prized flower bed, and as the sound of mechanical guards closed in, you knew you couldn't risk a look back. The three of you piled into the TARDIS and slammed the door behind you.

Bill immediately tossed her jacket over one of the rails, saying, "Well that was... All kinds of fun but I'm beat, I'll be in the rec room. Let me know when we get back, alright?"

You gave her a smile and a wave while the Doctor gave a soft grunt, circling the console. Bill disappeared down a hallway, and you stepped towards the Doctor.

He yanked a lever and the TARDIS made a tremendous noise; he then quickly pulled the lever back to its original position, grumbling under his breath.

You rested an elbow on the railing. "Doctor?" you asked.

"Hm?"

"What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong, we're on our way, everything is fine!"

You crossed your arms. "Mhm."

He turned to face you, saying, "What? I answered your question."

You raised an eyebrow and said, "Barely. C'mon, what's wrong?" Taking a step closer, you added, "Can't have anything to do with the fact that I was proposed to today, can it?"

He rolled his eyes and waved a hand at you, turning back to the console. "What, that? Nonsense."

You smirked. "Didn't seem like nonsense when you rejected her for me."

He paused for a moment before flipping a row of switches, saying, "You were hesitating."

You held back a chuckle and said, "That's what you're upset about? The fact that I hesitated, upon hearing that the queen of some planet - that you dragged me to! - wanted to marry me?"

"Oh c'mon, I didn't drag you, you wanted to go on a trip."

"You're avoiding the question and you know it," you said, barely able to hold back a smile.

He halted what he was doing and turned to face you, saying, "And what if I am?"

You shrugged. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it, fine. But if it's bothering you, you can't just avoid it forever." You stepped a little closer and placed a hand on his shoulder, saying, "At the end of the day, I turned her down."

"You did."

"Mhm, 'cause why wouldn't I? I've got everything I want right here."

The Doctor betrayed a small smile.

[yorshie]

Hey there! Was curious if I could maybe request some headcanons of how each bayverse guy would react to catching his crush or S/O singing along with/dancing to one or more of these songs while doing something domestic, like cooking or folding laundry. -OR- If you don't like any of these songs, maybe some hcs of a song you think would make each one drop whatever he's doing and come running when he hears his crush or S/0 play it. But only if it strikes your fancy and you have the time. As always, love your writing! Thank you!

Wrap Me In Plastic by Chromance

Scream by Besomorph

Drop Dead Beautiful by Britney Spears (ft Sabi)

Of course you can! I'm sorry this took so long (we know I was running around like a chicken with it's head cut off) But! I really enjoyed listening to these and I picked a fourth song that I think fits well with the others for the fourth turtle

Bayverse tmnt x Fem reader, SFW slightly suggestive

tag list: @jackalope-in-a-storm @tmnt-tychou @justalotoffanfiction @nittleboo

as always turtles are 24-25

Donatello (Wrap Me In Plastic)

Donnie heard the song playing over your personal speaker in the garage when he was heading back to his new project on the shell-raiser with a fresh cup of coffee.

intrigued, he wasted no time heading over, leaning against a tool box and just listening along as you moved to the music while taking a break from the engine you were rebuilding.

when the lyrics finally seeped through the caffeine fugue he's battling, he sets the coffee aside, sliding into your space and seamlessly integrating himself into your dance.

Pulling a laugh out of you was his goal, but he soon found himself pulling you closer as the chorus hit, curling into your space to tuck his beak close to your ear, one hand cupping your joined hands to his pectoral scute and the other dangerous low on your back.

needless to say Raph, who was trying to fit a new muffler to his motorcycle, took one look over at the pair of you and hastily beat a silent path out of the garage.

Donnie waited until he heard the bolt in the main door click into place before he tipped you backwards into a steep dip and slanted his mouth over yours.

now it's a staple in the safe garage music playlist, and Donnie never fails to pause his project and come find you when he hears the opening bars.

Raphael (Scream) ....(c'mon there was so much red in that music video)

It wasn't often Raph could catch you singing while cooking, usually you were much too aware of your surroundings to let loose while others were listening

This time though he got lucky, and took adbantage of his ability to blend in to simple watch and listen for a bit, slowly smiling when he realized exactly which song you were singing

he wated until you had moved awat from the oven, stretching upwards to reach a bowl on the top shelf, before he slotted in behind you and slide a large hand across your hip right as you sid the word "scream"

he didn't get a scream, but that was ok, because he was far more interested in tipping your head back and slotting his mouth over yours. there was plenty of other noises he was interested in hearing, after all.

by the time whatever was in the oven got done baking, he'd parked you on a counter and gotten drunk off exploring what your tongue felt like against his. he didn't want to stop to get whatever it was out, it was only our promises to stay 'right there, sweetheart' that finally got him to save the casserole from a burnt end

even weeks later, whenever the song pops up from your playlist, you catch him giving you a lopsided smirk, a silent promise to get you alone soon

Leonardo (Drop Dead Beautiful)

Leo was just trying to get his tea and get back to his book when he heard the opening lines to the song in your lilting voice and froze, eyes searching for you, surprised because he didn't even know you had come down for a visit.

when he found you in the living room, cleaning what looked like Mikey's mess from the previous night while singing, his first thought was to go find his little brother and inflict damage for leaving trash on the floor

but then you turned, and he froze for a completely different reason when you leveled a game controller in his direction and started singing to him.

You got butterflies going crazy in this turtle's chest, almost made him drop his tea, frozen in place as you danced closer and tried to coax him into joining you. He's only gonna agree after making sure no one is paying attention, but eventually he'll put the tea down and take your hand when you openly start pouting at him

Leo might be the pretty boy of his brothers, but he'll never believe any of them could be considered beautiful. He knows enough about you though to know you would never lie to him, especially on this, so really he's just confused, sky, bashful but willing to believe you're singing this song about him. Might even get him to chuckle if you start dropping whenever you get to the part that goes "drop dead- drop dead- dr-drop dead."

It becomes a little secret between the two of you, where you can make his skin turned mottled just by running your hand over his carapace in greeting and dropping the line "what's up, beautiful," in his ear. He absolutely loves it, but the real fun will be saying it in a whisper when his brothers are around. Then, you'll get a contemplative, squinty eyed look. Just be aware he's plotting revenge and it will 100% be in his favor.

Michelangelo (Hush Hush: Don't be Shy)

Mikey would be the one to turn on the music whenever the two of you are cleaning the kitchen, bopping fast through his music until he hits one and clocks the way your hips start shimmying in the corner of his vision. He already knows you love this song, maybe he's secretly hoping to get a show out of putting it on for you.

It's a quick song, but just long enough for you to get into the groove of singing it and moving in a simple dance with the mop, and Mikey shadows your notes, following along while he tosses clean hand towels into the drawer and cheers you on. When it ends he sticks his tongue out at you and you laugh when you realize its looping back around to the beginning once more.

When the pair of you are done cleaning, Mikey wastes no time taking you in his arms, not caring about the still damp floor underneath your feet or the way your singing is breaking up from the giggles. If anything, this is his favorite part.

If his brothers need anything from the fridge they'll have to dance around the pair of you, because Mikey's not letting you go until he gets at least a solid ten minutes of dancing, no please babycakes, just once more, Raph can totally wait to get to the cupboards don't mind him-

totally steals kisses in between spinning you around, smooches, long presses of his mouth against yours, goading "hush hush don't be shy" if you try and pull away before he gets his quota for the dance.

[lazybutsmexy]

I don't really have an idea in my mind rn. But i do want to request ( if you dont mind ) protective König or jealousy König either of them are interesting for me

And just wanted to say that all of ur works are amazing !! *chef kiss*

( ignore my grammar, I'm quite bad at english TT )

Hello love!! I'm so happy you liked my writings hehe and don't worry about your English, it's completely fine 🫶♥️

Jealous König drabble

•~•~•~•

Jealous König is a rarity. In fact, it's a "blink and you miss it" sort of reaction. That is because he doesn't show off how it bothers him when you laugh at other men's jokes or don't immediately shrug someone off when they lay a hand on your shoulder. Unless he notices that you're uncomfortable - which he never misses, by the way - he won't act on it.

In his mind, he has no control over who you think is funny or who you let touch your body. He trusts you, with his whole body, mind and heart, and respects your integrity as a person, a strong individual, a partner. It doesn't mean he can't feel jealous, but it slowly simmers in his body as he tries not to let it show.

He knows that jealousy comes from a place of insecurity, of seeing himself as not enough to fill your needs. Another source of insecurity is that nasty bug in the back of his head telling him how you would replace him at the drop of a hat for someone more capable of filling those needs.

Jealousy to König means insecurity, anger, greed. He always wants to be a better man for you, and that means getting ahold of his emotions and keep them down, lest he does something that - God forbids - hurts you.

He is quiet in general, as a default setting, especially in large gatherings. And his eyes always search for and find your figure no matter the situation. So you don't instantly notice that his blood is slowly boiling in the inside at the mere thought of another man shooting his shot with you. For the past ten minutes, König has been looking for any clue in your body language that indicated that this private was making you uncomfortable, just so he could stomp over to you and scare the shit out of him away.

You feel his stare, so you turn to him and smile sweetly before you notice that his eyes don't crinkle at the edges like he usually does as a response. The man next to you - you already forgot his name, that's how unimportant he is to you - continues talking about some of his accomplishments back in highschool, but you tune out his voice in order to study König a little more.

His posture is rigid, his arms crossed over his chest and his breathing slow. Even from across the bar where the party is happening, you can feel a threatening aura emanating from him, as if you're watching a hungry tiger ready to pounce.

Usually, your blood fills with endorphins when you notice König staring at you, as that tends to be an indicator that he wants you. But this is a different stare, and fills your blood with ice. König emanates anger.

After being so intimate with König for a few months, you have learned to pick apart the clues in his behaviour. And right now, you want to kick yourself in the face for not noticing sooner. The man next to you - who you considered no more than background noise at this point - could end up bedridden for who knows how long if you didn't do something quick.

You look again at him and interrupt him with a smile, making sure that König could read your lips from where he was: "nice to meet you, uh," you quickly glance at his tag, "private Lang, but I'm going to join my boyfriend now." The private just stared owlishly at you as you got up and left some bills on the counter, before turning and walking towards König of all people.

Konig himself felt a mixture of different emotions: pride that you called him your boyfriend, relief because you preferred him over that dude, annoyance that it took you so long to leave that guy behind, and utter giddiness over being called your boyfriend in such a public setting. (He would swallow the last one down and leave it for a talk later).

He also got up and opened the door for you, indicating that he was more than ready to finally have you all to himself, and you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the long night of atonement you had in front of you.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: vi

“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”

tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn

pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader

summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

"Need a pick me up?"

You open your eyes to see the youngest of your grade holding a cold bottle of green tea. "Oh, thanks," you grab the cool bottle from Suguru's hands gratefully. You had been sitting in the living room area on the couch when you started drifting off. Staying up for hours the past couple nights training with Gojou is a draining experience.

"It's not coffee but it has caffeine in it," he takes a seat next you, nestling against the arm on the opposite end of the couch. "Did you have trouble sleeping? When I got up to get water, it smelled like someone had been cooking. Was that you?"

Guilty as charged, you deny nothing. "Was up late bullshittin' and decided to chef it up in the kitchen," you shrug nonchalantly.

Your little training sessions with Gojou always go on longer than you originally planned. He's surprisingly strict and persistent nor does he really hold back with any comments on what you're doing wrong, but they're all fair assessments. So just as you did the first night this began, you cooked you both a late night dinner before skipping off to bed.

"Did you meet that Naoya guy, by the way?" The way Suguru's face twists into an annoyed grimace is enough of answer. I'm already coming up with comebacks for the next time I see him, I wasn't fully prepared the last time. "Yeah, can't believe Gojou wasn't just being overdramatic for once. Please kick that guy's ass if you get paired up in the individual battles." You wonder how it will go since there's an uneven number of combatants. Will it be 1v1 fights split between four of them or will it be an all out jumping with every Kyoto student fighting Suguru and Gojou all at once? You suppose you'll find out in a couple days. "Our legacy is on the line!"

The curse user chuckles, "I'll be sure to defend it fiercely," he vows poshly, bowing with a hand over his heart. "Should I fail, I'll gladly banish myself from your sight for all time."

Giggles slip from your lips with ease. Serious as Suguru looks, he's quite playful. It was something you appreciated during your first days at Jujutsu Tech when you came in a month later than the other first years.

Utahime was a doting senpai, Shoko was kind but respectful, Gojou was annoying and Suguru was helpful with an air of spiritedness. He didn't come at you with wave after wave of prodding questions about where you came from, why you were in Japan or even jokes about your technique the way Gojou did. Yet he was more forward than Shoko who was more content to let you do the reaching. Your transition into being integrated into the already established friend group in a way was thanks to Suguru. You were more grateful than you'd ever reveal.

"You know, if being a sorcerer doesn't work out for you, you should really consider a career in acting." Suguru only snorts at your comment. "I'm serious! I can see you reciting Shakespeare as we speak!"

Suguru rolls his eyes but it's good-natured, "as if a sorcerer would be satisfied in a normal career."

"You never know," you lean against the arm of the couch you're on with a grin. "Having backups might be a good idea! You just don't wanna admit I'm right that you have a flair for theatrics."

One of Suguru's eyebrows raises inquisitively, "what are your plans? After we graduate, I mean," he clarifies as quickly as he asks. "Even before you came to this school, I'm sure that's something you had to think about. Were you planning to go back to your home country after graduation?"

Your eyes dart to the corner of the room and you press your lips together, shoulders stiffening ever-so-slightly. You hope it isn't noticeable but perceptive as Suguru is, you know he can tell. "That's," you think of your mother and father and your uneasy upbringing. How your relationship improved after you moved out the house. It isn't like there'd be much of a problem now that I know what curses are. And even by the time I got to middle school, I got better at ignoring them. It would be different if you moved back in with them. "Something I'm still figuring out, I guess."

It isn't as if you never thought of your future. You knew inevitably that it was something you'd have to cross. You suppose you were just hoping to leave that problem for the [First] of the future to deal with. "I'm not really opposed to staying a sorcerer," you continue truthfully. "But I'm not really sure how the jujutsu scene works in my country. We probably don't have an organized force of jujutsu sorcerers like Japan, maybe I could start one."

Suguru mulls over his next question thoughtfully as if he is unsure he even wants to ask. "Why did you come to Japan, if you don't mind me asking."

You mull over if that's something you want to answer yourself, "well-"

"What are you two talking about over here?" Saved by a bell cosplaying as a lanky, nearly 190 cm teenager with white hair who wears sunglasses indoors. Gojou yawns as he approaches the couch you and Suguru are sitting on, he reaches a hand out almost expectantly to your green tea. You open the bottle, taking another swig before you hand it over before Gojou takes a large gulp himself. One that is literally more than half of the bottle.

"Most of that is mine, Gojou," you remind him a sharp look but there's no real bark or bite in your words, you're too tired.

Gojou shrugs, lips still resting on the neck and finish of the bottle, "I'll get you another one," he mumbles nearly incoherently, drinking the rest without a care in the world.

He's lucky you're more amenable to his morning shenanigans because he's been helping you the past couple nights. "Whatever, just put it in the fridge after you buy it."

"Looks like I jinxed you after all," Suguru chuckles to your right and you groan because he's probably right.

"I'm fighting your jinx with all my might," you mutter back. Apparently, once indulging Gojou becomes habit, it's hard to stop. Or is it a bit much to say you indulge Gojou if the most you really do is share food and drink? You're too tired to consider the nuances in this particular moment.

"What jinx?" Gojou cocks his head to the side.

"Nothing," you yawn again. "It's the nunya jinx where if Gojou asks too many questions, I stop sharing all my snacks with him." It's satisfying to see how both boy looks at you in confusion when you speak in your native tongue. As much of a disadvantage you were put in when you first came to Japan because of it, it's become a nice little source of privacy among your peers that don't know the language. A pocket of something you can keep to yourself. "Anyway, it's just a little inside joke between the non-sorcerer family hailing kids on the block," you wink at Suguru and he closes his eyes with a small smile.

The still-cold bottom of what was once your green tea is placed against your forehead in retribution.

Maybe you won't cook for Gojou tonight.

ー

[Today, 14:43]

Shoko: The Kyoto Tech kids passed us up heading to the training area. Naoya is with them. Have fun with that www.

Me: ^o^ don't worry I won't~

It's a day before the Sister Exchange event truly begins when you see the Kyoto Tech students again.

There's only one training outdoor training facility at this school and so, if you all happen to use it at the same time, there isn't much that can be done about it.

You can see why Utahime listed Kamo Ririka as a person of interest, she's gorgeous. You pointedly ignore your friend sputtering that is not why Ririka had been mentioned in favor of focusing on her pastel pink hair. "I only mentioned her at all because you wanted to know about the Kamo students at Kyoto Tech!"

She whispers furiously in your ear, you personally think the dust of pink on Utahime's cheeks still lean favorably towards your theory. Me thinks the lady doth protest too much, you puff your cheeks in coyly. That only serves to make Utahime press her fingers against them to release the air stored in them. "Also, the person you mentioned before with the green streak in his hair," you spot the very lad yourself. "That's Kumatetsu, he's a second year like you."

"Thank you, Utahime, I appreciate your knowledge."

"I could have told you that," Gojou shrugs.

Your side eye is directs to the boy as quick as ever, "you said you didn't even talk to these guys much last year, how am I supposed to know what you know?"

Four of your seven peers are absent from this coincidental gathering. Haibara and Nanami are on some sort of spur of the moment mission and will be back later in the evening. Shoko and Suguru went on a quest to get drinks from the vending machine. As for Mei Mei, she didn't care for training for an event she wouldn't be part of.

Gojou sticks his tongue at you and you return the favor. "Naoya, looking horrid as ever, I see," Gojou waves at the first year with so much mock enthusiasm, you might have thought he was being genuine when he sauntered over to the Zenin. "I'm not good at holding back so if you go home now, I promise to be nice the next time I see you."

Utahime scowls, "Gojou, they just got here-"

"Eager for my attention I see," Utahime's attempt to stop feathers from being ruffled is futile as Naoya welcomes the jabs with his own. As far as you're concerned, Gojou can rile the Zenin boy up all he wants. "Had I known that, I would have done my best to say hi the other day if I hadn't been interrupted."

You snort as you thumb out a text to Shoko that the Kyoto students have arrived. That she and Suguru should probably prepare for the training grounds to be in shambles when they return. And that if a fight starts between Gojou and the mustard-haired first year, you won't be stopping it.

Me: Hell I'll jump in and help!

Shoko: Getou says he would you not get into a fight but if you do, punch Naoya for him if he doesn't make it back in time.

"Even Icarus had to learn a lesson about flying too close to the sun. I look forward to the day the Six Eyes is humbled and brought back down to earth with the rest of us," you thumb halts over your keyboard, glancing at where Gojou and Naoya presently stand. It irks you at how easily Naoya says it, clearly accustomed to using it. "Hopefully it'll be me. But honestly, why wait for tomorrow when we can see what happens today, Si-"

"He has a name," you close your silver Nokia flip, slipping it into your pocket. You feel the buzz of a message coming through but you choose to ignore it in favor scratching the dark irritating itch growing in your stomach.

"Excuse me?" Two heads look at you at your interjection. Naoya who looks at you like you're an insect large enough to garner attention, and Gojou who tilts his head at you curiously.

"A name," you repeat yourself, setting a hand on your hip as you glare back into amber eyes. They just barely look at you with anything other than cold indifference. "Gojou has one. I call you Whiney the Poo and Bitch Baby in my head all the time and I still manage to call you Zenin Naoya out loud so stop calling him that."

"And what happens if I keep doing it in, senpai?" Never before have you wanted to punch someone this badly. Never and you live with Gojou Satoru, the menace of Tokyo's Jujutsu Tech.

"You wanna say the shit again and find out?" Matter of fact, you want Naoya to say it. You take a step forward, all too eager to put the arrogant first year in his place. "You know what, go ahead. Make my day. Say the shit again and see what happens to your ass."

"Okay," Utahime's hand grips your shoulder tightly before you can take another step. "I think we should just train on that side of the training grounds," she points feverishly to the opposite side of the track field that is considerably further than where the Kyoto students have settled.

The Kyoto second year from the other day ー Kumatetsu, if you remember correctly ー places his own arm in front of the aggravating first year. Pretty third year Ririka sighs in equal parts, dark green eyes darkening as she watches the scene unfolding in front of her. "Yeah, that would be nice, there's just so much space here to train," he agrees with Utahime with swift ease. "Why just bundle up in one little corner here, right?"

"Nah, he can move if he wants to though," you snap in Naoya's direction, nodding your chin to where Utahime's finger leads. "Take your first year before I embarrass his ass in front of everybody."

"No no, there doesn't need to be any fighting," Kumatetsu replies with a frantic but annoyed smiled. "We don't want any problems, we're all allies here. We don't want to fight." As if sensing the mustard-haired first year was about to open his mouth and deny that claim, Kumatetsu covers it with without even blinking. "Ignore him, he doesn't want to fight."

"Yeah, I wouldn't wanna fight me either," you roll your eyes. When you see that particular comment grinds Naoya's gears more than anything, you decide to give yourself the win. Bitch Baby 0, [First] 1, you nod to yourself as Naoya is unceremoniously dragged to the rest of his Kyoto peers in a tight headlock away from you and infinitely further from your tallest classmate.

You tap Utahime's hand lightly. "It's fine, I'm not gonna run over and drop kick him if you let me go." Utahime doesn't look like she entirely believes you and you can't really blame her in this moment. You don't think you've ever been that mad before, not in front of these particular classmates at least. When was the last time I got like this actually, you struggle to sort your thoughts as you try to calm yourself down. Right, right, that time with Takuya and his hair.

Takuya, your old crush from your first and second years of middle school. A core member of your friend group with Chinatsu and Tooru until he moved away after the end of second year. I wonder how he's doing, we haven't heard from him in forever. He was a kind boy, a real sweetheart, that's why you liked him so much. His eyes were as black as the night but your favorite thing about him was his hair. You became friends because of it, actually. His dark red hair was long and almost always kept in a braid.

Then some asshole tried cutting it. That was the first and only school brawl you got into in your entire life, skirt on and all. Thank you, Auntie Chiharu, for not grounding me for punching that guy first.

To think the next time you'd get so angry would be for Gojou's sake.

What has this world come to?

"We're going this way," Utahime tells you firmly, upperclassman voice front and center.

"Fine," you sigh. This motherfucker pissing me off, you glare in Naoya's direction one more time. I haven't cussed like this since my Sakuragi Middle days. Your eyes catch Gojou's shades before you turn, his expression unreadable. Partially because half of his face is obscured, partially because the bottom half of his face gives no clues as to what he might be thinking.

Ugh, he has me over here defending Gojou of all people. This might be more unforgivable than Naoya's presence being generally unpleasant. Your glare narrows with a click of your tongue but you smooth out your face since Gojou is who you're looking at. It isn't like Gojou is the one you're mad at. The same rules from before applies. No one messes with one of us except for us. And even then, there are lines that shouldn't be crossed. You turn to follow Utahime begrudgingly to where she is briskly walking to. When you feel the unmistakable shape of an arm draping across your shoulders, you groan, "Gojou don't start."

Unfortunately, the menace of your class is already snickering much to your chagrin. "Oh [First], you do care!" Gojou swoons, leaning against you as if he's a damsel. "I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it myself!"

"I did not do that because I like you," you deny uselessly, knowing it won't matter what you say. "We just have a temporary We Hate Gojou Alliance truce going on right now. The We Hate Zenin Naoya Alliance takes precedence over any of your shenanigans during this time period." Utahime doesn't argue against it, so perhaps there really is a truce going on with Gojou.

"You know, the more you say that, the more I'm convinced that you're secretly the president of my fan club," Gojou all but beams. Maybe it's you but he seems slightly more obnoxious than normal and you decide that's likely a good thing in this particular instance. "You can be honest."

You huff but you don't move to immediately shove his heavy ass off of you. He didn't look like he was particularly bothered by Naoya's nasty comments, but you didn't want to assume when you spoke up. Well as long as he's in a good mood, I guess that's all that matters. "Yeah, yeah, you caught me," you decide to indulge the boy only two days older than you. "Number 1 Gojou Satoru fan right here, don't tell Utahime."

index | previous chapter | next chapter

Extra

Here you go, chapter 6 prime for the reading and a day away from the Sister Exchange Event taking place. Y'all are getting this a day early because I have something to do all day this Friday and I'm not sure if I'd be able to get up then at a proper time.

Anyways, Reader is appalled. Naoya's got you out here defending Gojou's honor and shit, you need to rethink your priorities in life. But at least you can confidently say that you'll call Naoya out on his shit whenever the opportunity presents itself time and time again. Turn us up, Whiney the Poo.

See y'all next week.

Likes and Reblogs appreciated.

[lukolabrainrot]

Since we’re accepting all the theories, I figured I’d throw my super delusional theory out there ;)

L and A were casual from their first meeting to throughout most of the press tour, and L was very open with A and N about this.

Somewhere on the press tour, L and N discussed their feelings and concluded together that they wanted to pursue those feelings. I think this conversation probably happened during the world tour portion of the press tour, particularly near the end (Brazil/Italy/Canada/Ireland, if I had to guess). This, to me, explains the change in behavior between L and N around this time.

L told N he would talk to A, and L broke off whatever romantic/sexual relationship they had. However, L already had trips planned with A/his friend group throughout the summer (Milan, GQ, R’s Italy birthday trip), and furthermore A was already integrated into the friend group. I believe L made it clear to both N and A that A would continue being part of the friend group and would still get to tag along to all the events/on all the trips.

I’ve always believed that A was with L less because she liked him/wanted to be with him, and more because she wanted the perks/the attention that came with being with him. So, when L broke things off, she was not happy. Being in the friend group would still get her the perks, but in order to fully capitalize, she would need to be perceived as L’s romantic partner.

Thus, Pap Gate 1.0. I’ve always believed that L had no idea about it, and that A or someone around her was behind it. It would also explain her behavior in the pics (reaching for his hand/trying to push the girlfriend narrative).

N gets upset, but L quickly explains to her that he had no idea that the pap walk was going to happen. N truly knows L, and therefore she (rightfully, in my mind) believes him.

Now, L and N have to change course. They still want to figure things out privately, but they realize that the public narrative has now been changed. The media are stating that L and A are rumored to be together.

I think L and N take this very unfortunate situation and decide to do with it the best that they can. They decide that the best course of action is for L and his team to not correct People magazine and to just continue letting the media push this narrative.

Why? Because it takes all of the heat off of their (L and N’s) relationship. So much of the media during the press tour was very much focused on their friendship and whether or not it was more than just friendship.

By L having a girlfriend who is not N, at least according to the public eye, the media had their answer: L and N were just good friends and L was dating A.

Meanwhile, A plays along because she craves the attention and wants to continue receiving the perks.

But L… God bless him. He’s a phenomenal actor, but he just can’t seem to act like he’s into A. The fandom continues to spin because his behavior does not match the narrative that he/his team are decidedly not pushing against.

The summer continues, and A realizes that L’s behavior around her is not giving off a good impression onto her. She needs the media to perceive her as L’s girlfriend, so she continues to create leaks in order to keep the narrative alive.

A’s posts eventually go too far and compromise L’s safety and she gets slapped with an NDA.

L and N still need a smokescreen, so they go with JD, who is happy to play along for the sake of his very good friend, N.

You know what... I'm loving the delulu Lukola theories rn.

Keep em coming y'all!

[7-wonders]

In Waking Hours

Roommate!Calliope & GN!Reader (platonic)

Summary: Calliope's planning to enjoy a nice, quiet evening sitting outside under the moon and enjoying her relative freedom when she sees you still haunted by a particularly brutal nightmare. Plans change, because she's not about to let you face the worst parts of her former husband's realm alone, obviously.

Word count: 3.6k

A note from the author: (You don't have to, but you'll have a lot more backstory if you read To the world we dream about first)

Shitty summary but you have a nightmare and Calliope's like "well this is my emotional support human so I can't not help!" WOW this is the first time I've felt truly inspired when writing in months. S/o Calliope girl hope I'm doing you proud by giving you the stories and love you deserve.

So, I know that this isn't going to get a lot of love since there's no actual Morpheus in this, just mentions which means my normal tags can’t be used, but I love this little fic-verse I've created so much that I have to write it. (All this is to say please show this fic some love if you enjoyed!!!) This isn't romantic, but there are definitely romantic fics in the pipeline. The nice thing about a loose fic-verse is that there are plenty of fics for you to read if you don't want an eventual throuple :)

(But hopefully there will be plenty of fics for you to read if you do want an eventual throuple)

I would be remiss to not shout out the reason this fic-verse exists in the first place and the person that I can talk about any and every random fic idea with, the lovely @ivandra-winters! Thank you, thank you, thank you for everything.

Calliope doesn’t really sleep well anymore.

Not that she needs sleep in general. She’s a goddess, after all, and divine beings such as herself only sleep because they want to, because they feel like indulging in all the wonders available to them upon closing their eyes. Few things truly and regularly excite beings of myth, but the Dreaming is one of those few things. Only very rarely, such as in cases of extreme injury, do they need to sleep. Mostly, sleeping is a comfort, a way to pass the time.

In the early days of her imprisonment, after Erasmus Fry first captured her, Calliope thought that she would use sleep for both. Though her relationship with her husband had ended about as terribly as a relationship can end, the Dreamlord had never reneged on his promise to always give Calliope the sweetest of dreams. She would rest, then, and find a distraction and comfort in the Dreaming until someone, be it her sisters or her mothers or somebody seeking her favor, would save her.

Then, she found out all the terrible things one person can do to another while they’re unconscious.

Even though she’s now safe, the once-familiar action no longer comes easy to her. Almost every time she’s tried—and those have been few and far between—she wakes up in a panic before she can fall asleep enough to even make it to the Dreaming. When she closes her eyes, she sees them once more. Both of them, Fry and Madoc, taking what was never theirs in the first place. She feels their cruel, rough hands on her body, hears their voices demanding that she give them inspiration for their works. 

(Works that she wishes would be little more than drivel. But no, nothing inspired—forcefully or not—by her could ever be drivel. They’re wild successes every time, and so the men just continue to take take take until Calliope thinks that she has nothing left to give. But she does, because she is the Muse of Epic Poetry, and for as long as people still believe in her, she shall be a source of inspiration. And so she continues to be drained like a tree of its sap, an essence so integral to her being that she knows not who she is without it. Until one day, when Madoc returns to his home ranting and raving—and there is a knock at the door.)

Calliope’s been doing some reading on the device that you gave her, the one that’s like a digital library, and she believes she might have what today’s humans call Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The inability to sleep, the flashbacks, the ever-present hum of vigilance that still thrums under her skin and warns her that the threat might be just around the corner—it’s all there, and it’s all her. It’s humiliating to think about it as a possibility, and more humiliating still to see herself in the words written. 

Goddesses shouldn’t have trauma! They shouldn’t even be in a position where trauma could be inflicted on them! She misses the age when she was at her strongest, the age when people worshipped the very ground she walked on, dropping to their knees in reverence and begging for her gifts.

But that world is long gone, and Calliope has landed in a new one that is entirely foreign to her. Slowly, though, she likes to think that she’s adjusting. Since the night is long and sleeping is not an option for her at present, she finds other ways to pass the hours when the rest of the world rests. The 21st century is new and exciting, and there is much to catch up on. 

Not only is she learning more about this new world, but she’s also learning herself all over. There are hobbies that she gets to discover once more, enjoyments that she forgot were hers. She listens to music (music now is…very different from even a hundred years ago, but there have been some works that she enjoys) and reads—not just the books that tell her things about herself that she does not wish to hear, but she reads epics! And poetry! How she missed poetry; that special language so near and dear to her, the words of her most favorite patrons. She reads all that she can get her hands on, good and bad, for the simple pleasure of being able to read once more.

Oftentimes, she simply enjoys the quiet at night. She basks in the knowledge that she can do what she wants, when she wants, with nobody lording over her or imposing their will. Yes, she is still technically bound to a human, but that is a non-issue. Calliope knows with absolute certainty that you have no idea of who she is or what Richard Madoc had done when he declared that she was your problem now.

She likes living with you, though it has been an adjustment being what you call a ‘roommate’ instead of a captive. Whereas the two men (if such brutes can be referred to as men) had been the worst of humanity, she finds humanity endearing when she sees it through your lens. How can she not develop a fondness for you, with how earnestly you try to include her in your life and make her feel like she belongs? 

There is also some level of comfort to be gained from the blissful ignorance you live in, the way that you believe your world to be black-and-white with no potential of the things you were taught to be nothing more than myths and stories. To you, such tales don’t exist—Calliope, the Muse, doesn’t exist—and Calliope, the woman, feels that she is able to let her guard down for the first time in a long, long time.

At times, she can feel your desperation for some sort of inspiration, lost as you attempt to complete your studies. It is comforting to know that you have no idea the being that you now share a home with. It is even more comforting to know that she has the choice of whether to grant you some inspiration or not. 

Tonight, Calliope decides for herself once more, and thinks that she would rather like to sit outside on the patio and enjoy the late night. With her mind made up, she sneaks out of her bedroom with a blanket in one hand and a book in the other.

“Oh!” Calliope gasps in surprise, startled upon seeing a figure sitting on the couch. 

Moonlight shines through the curtains that were most definitely closed a few short hours ago and illuminates your face staring out at the dark. She relaxes, but her fear immediately shifts to concern upon seeing what look to be tear tracks drying on your face.

“Hey. I’m sorry.” Just as she suspected, your voice is thick with tears. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Do not apologize,” she lightly chastises you. “Are you alright?”

You nod and use your sleeve to wipe under your eyes. “Yeah.”

It’s obvious that you’re planning on leaving it at that, which simply won’t do. Calliope levels you with a stare (a ‘mom stare,’ you teasingly referred to it as the first time she used it, without knowing how true your words were. One day, she thinks, she’ll tell you about Orpheus. Once the pain of losing him stops hurting so much) that you try your hardest to act unaffected by. You sigh after a moment, knowing that the fight is lost.

“I had a nightmare,” you admit. “And like, I’m not a little kid anymore. So why did this nightmare scare me so badly that I literally woke up and jumped out of bed in fear?”

Well, that explains why she heard a noise of surprise from your room, followed by a loud thump. She assumed that you hadn’t yet gone to bed, that you were up late finishing a project or just plain procrastinating your sleep. Why your late night required what sounded like the moving of furniture was beyond her. But no, instead, you’ve found yourself at the whims of a nightmare. 

Nightmares are not something that Calliope has a lot of experience with. She’s met nightmares, of course. With how much time she spent in the Dreaming, it was a foregone conclusion that she met a nightmare or two. And when they weren’t performing their duties, a lot of them were really quite nice!

(The only nightmare she truly could not stand was her former husband’s most beloved creation—The Corinthian. He…creeped her out, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t just the ocular mouths, though those were also chill-inducing. Rather, it was his entire demeanor. Like he was simply playing nice, biding his time before he could go in for the kill. She was glad to have never seen him again after the end of her marriage.)

But has Calliope ever actually dealt with a nightmare? The lives of immortals are long (obviously), and while she may have once had nightmares when she was very young, it was so long ago now that she can’t remember any particulars. Even when her own son was young, nightmares were not truly a concern. Though she and Morpheus had mutually agreed that he needed to sleep like a normal child at least sometimes in order to aid in his development, the very first time his little brow creased and frightened whimpers began to well in his throat, that decision was quickly forgotten in favor of comforting the boy and assuring him that nightmares would harm him no longer.

So, while it’s true that she does not have much experience with nightmares, what little experience she has had helps her to know just how frightening they can be—and how frightened it’s made you. 

“Would talking about it make you feel better?” Calliope asks.

You shake your head resolutely, determined to keep your fears to your chest. “I don’t remember it anymore.”

For many mortals, dreams and nightmares do not follow them out of the Dreaming. They may remember snippets of it, or certain emotions, but often, they fade away in the few hazy moments after waking. It’s pretty obvious that this isn’t the case for you, however. You continue to hold yourself tense, as though whatever had troubled you while you slept would reappear at any moment. Calliope has also seen you deep in thought a couple of times now, and the way you were looking outside when she first stepped out of her room was the same way she had seen you look when trying to complete schoolwork or focus on making something complicated. 

Up until now, you’ve tried so hard to always be positive and to make your home and yourself as comforting as possible so that Calliope may have the best possible environment to heal. She appreciates it—this new life she’s found herself in has truly been conducive to recovery—but now, she struggles to watch you try to keep up this facade so as not to lay your upsets upon her. She wishes that you would, though; that you would feel like you can confide in her the same way that you have made her feel towards you. After all that you’ve done for her, you deserve to feel like you have gained a friendship. 

Calliope will let you keep your secrets, then, even though this means that particular avenue of help is closed—she will not force you to do anything that you do not want to do. She moves on to Plan B, into the kitchen where she fumbles around until finding the kettle. Filling it with water, she places it on a burner and turns the stove on. Though she’s still not very confident around newer inventions like kitchen appliances, she’s proud of the fact that she’s slowly learning.

At the sounds, you peek up from the couch. “What are you doing?”

“What you’ve done for me when I find myself particularly upset,” she says, fetching two mugs from the cupboard.

“You’re making me tea?” Your voice sounds strangled, as though you can’t imagine why she would be providing you this small comfort.

You first started making tea for Calliope on the night that she technically became ‘yours.’ After locking herself in the bathroom and scrubbing her skin raw under the stream of hot water until she was sure that every inch of her body was clean from the DNA of another, she spent an interminable amount of time just enjoying the knowledge that she was now safe. While it was true that you were still practically a stranger, she had lived for long enough now and had honed her gifts well enough to be able to get a good read of a person’s intentions.

From the moment that she met you, you held none of the same ill will as the others. No, your immediate concern had been making sure that she was warm. When was the last time somebody cared for how she felt? She watched intently as you grabbed a coat from your vehicle, sure that, at any moment, your intentions toward her would change. Though she didn’t believe that she had the power (both strength and will) to fight you off, she would not be caught off-guard if it came to that.

But it never did. You simply wanted to make sure that she was out of harm’s way. You concluded on your own that whatever had happened to her in that house, at the hands of the man you called your professor, was horrific. To you, Calliope was a woman, battered and scared, with nothing to her name and nowhere to go. It was the obvious option to offer her food and shelter, to ensure her safety, simply because it was the right thing to do.

Still, even after your show of immense kindness, she did not want to face you, for some part of her was waiting for the inevitable. When you would demand the use of her gifts, wanting inspiration and fame and power and riches. She was dreading the potential that you were simply another human wanting to take take take. So she waited until the water ran cold and she was shivering. Even then, it took until she physically could stand the water no longer for her to finally make slow moves to get ready to leave the bathroom. Toweling herself off and putting on the borrowed clothes (clothes that actually covered her skin, so much more than the satin slips that she had been granted by her former captors) could only take so long, so with a heavy sigh, she steeled herself and opened the door.

There was no sign of you, however, and a quick glance at the light from under the closed door of one bedroom indicated that you were inside. The only sign of life that proved that you were once in this space was a plate and a mug sitting on the counter. When Calliope cautiously got closer, she saw a note next to them. 

“Made you some dinner and tea. I’ve always been told that tea (or your preferred hot beverage of choice) can do wonders for making you feel better, and I’ve found that to be true a few times now. Sweet dreams!”

Your name was signed at the end, along with what looked like a drawing of a smile.

Aware of the very real possibility that this could be a trap—Fry, after all, had first tried to woo her before taking what he believed to be his by force—she hastily grabbed the ceramicware and made off to the room that you had called hers. She had no real need for food, of course, nor for bathing. But they were those same creature comforts that not even the gods were above, and beyond sporadic, cold baths, they were creature comforts she had been denied for over sixty years. Calliope would take any that she could get, especially when they were (seemingly) freely given. Unfortunately, she was not in a position to spurn such gifts right now.

These gifts kept coming, without an expectation of anything in return from her. She was free to take whatever she wanted, go anywhere she liked, do anything she wished. And you were always there to cheer her on and encourage her, with a smile on your face and (when she wanted it) tea in hand.

“‘Make’ should perhaps be used loosely.” She smiles sheepishly, back in the present as the kettle begins to warm. “Depending on how much of your help I shall need after the water boils.”

You wrap a blanket around yourself and make your way to Calliope. “Then we’ll make it together.”

After the tea has been successfully prepared and you’re both settled back on the couch with a large blanket shared between you, Calliope asks, “Do you have nightmares often?”

“Not like when I was little. I was one of those kids that had night terrors, y’know?” She doesn’t know, because she has never heard of them more beyond being mentioned in passing when she was still wife to Dream of the Endless, but she nods regardless. “Apparently, I would just scream and shake until I ran out of breath and woke myself up.”

“I am so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. Like most kids with night terrors, I never remembered them.” You take another sip from your mug. “This is good tea, by the way.”

“You are the one that determined when the tea was done steeping.”

“Yeah, but you boiled the water, which is an integral part of tea-making.” You smile at her, the first smile she’s seen from you tonight, and it makes her feel a little better, like she’s doing something right. “So well done.”

You fall quiet, having said what you wanted to say regarding your nightmare and choosing instead to enjoy your tea. Though you’re content with companionable silence, Calliope is not. She feels like she should be doing more to help you, to comfort you. Caring for another, helping someone to feel better, does not come easily to her like it once did. She has been burned for too long now, that caring nature snuffed out early on in her imprisonment. But slowly, like the first blades of grass pushing back through the soil of a blackened landscape after a wildfire, new life has started to grow in the middle of this scorched area of her heart. She wants to help you, to care for you. 

She wants to make you feel better.

“My younger sister, Thalia, is far better at this than I,” Calliope admits with a sigh.

“Better at what?”

“At cheering people up.” 

Indeed, Thalia did not preside over comedy for no reason. Many times over the years that she’s been unwillingly away from her family, Calliope found herself wishing that Thalia would be right next to her. She loves all of her sisters equally, but Thalia would have effortlessly known what to say or told an anecdote that would have made her imprisonment easier. Perhaps it would have even given her the extra strength needed to truly fight and find a way out.

You bump Calliope’s shoulder with your own. “You’ve done a really good job of that yourself, Cal.” 

She feels her chest warm, both at the compliment and the term of endearment. Somewhere along the way, you (and your friends, who are just as kind and welcoming to her as you have been) adopted a nickname for her. This is new for her—prior to her imprisonment, she was Calliope, eldest of the Muses Nine, Beautiful-Voiced, Chief of All Muses. She has always been Calliope. But now, sometimes she is Callie, or Cal. Those who call her this do not know that they are in the presence of a goddess, that she should be commanding the respect that she deserves from mortals who believe her one of them.

Instead, she finds that she loves having a nickname.

“You have…eight sisters, right?” you ask.

“Yes. Thalia is the second youngest.” Calliope has only spoken about her sisters in the most vague of ways, hesitant to reveal too much. Telling you the names of a sister or two certainly won’t hurt.

“It must be so much fun when you’re all together.”

Calliope smiles wistfully, feeling that familiar pang of homesickness. “It is. There are lots of laughs shared, and we all leave with enough stories to last until we see one another again.”

It hits her almost as soon as the words leave her mouth: There is something that she can do to help. She can do what she does best, that which is her chief function. She can tell you a story. Already the words come to her, the tale writing itself within her, nestled right at the hollow of her throat, and just waiting for her to speak it aloud. Her inspiration, her gift, is used on herself for the first time in a long time, and as her mind goes to work, she remembers why it is that she is so coveted. It feels intoxicating to think up a story once more, to be inspired to create. It’s an old feeling, one that was once so familiar to her, that it feels quite like a homecoming for her to be experiencing it once more.

“Have I ever told you of the wager that Thalia and our sister Mel once had?” she asks, baiting you.

You look at her curiously and take said bait. “No.”

Calliope smiles, feeling her power hum within her as, for the first time in a long, long time, she prepares an epic of her own. “Well, it started one summer…”

•••

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[screamingcrows]

Pyrogenic Sprouts II

Notes: I also banged this out in what can only be described as a fit of delirium. Let this be my first venture into writing Wuthering Waves, unedited and made without a single thought in my mind except Mortefi spinning like a rotisserie chicken. Part one is somewhere on my blog. Keep this out of AI. ~1.5k Link to I Tags: Mortefi x reader, first meeting, fluff, reader is not Rover, strangers to lovers Minors, blank and ageless blogs DNI

It had been a moment of spontaneity when his morning walk had diverged from his usual route through Jinzhou, barely awake after working through most of the night to catch up on various projects. The sentinel wasn't finished, not by a long shot, which once more prompted the question of why he found himself standing at your stall, checking the watch on his wrist and faintly wondering how long it would be reasonable to wait before leaving. 

His mind was quickly lost to thoughts of tests that would need to be done, who he could delegate it to, components that had to be ordered; he was all out of 6mm screws and getting his hands on more scarletthorn would be beneficial, the combination of toughness and slight flexibility preferred for maintaining structural integrity and absorbing residual frequencies to ensure no harm came to the wielder. 

"Come to finish the job have you?"

Mortefi was startled out of his thoughts by the weight of a body colliding with his. There wasn't enough time to stop the click of his tongue, hand moving to put the glittering metal -when had he even picked it up- back into his pocket. Morning dew dripped from the velvety petals and onto your hands, sunlight reflecting with only half the intensity in the droplets as it did in your eyes. Arms filled with your harvest and not another person in sight. It wasn't exactly a surprise that you had gone out alone despite all logic.

That didn't help the uneasy feeling that bloomed beneath his ribs. 

"Despite your best efforts to paint me as a villain, I don't exactly consider myself a pyromaniac. Being on a morning walk is hardly a crime," he crossed his arms in front of his chest, feeling none of the chilly breeze that made the hairs on your arms stand on end, "and if that were the case, I can currently see someone else who would be in just as much trouble."

He felt a small wave of uncertainty at the way his comment was met with nothing but a roll of your eyes, had he been hoping for a laugh? 

"Then I'm curious to know why you were waiting for me," it was wholly non-accusatory, and Mortefi found his mind reeling as it searched for hidden meaning.

Despite himself, a hand ran through his unruly hair while he hesitated to provide an explanation. Truthfully, doubt was currently coursing through his blood, licking along the veins like the fire he'd spent years tempering, the fire for which there was no proper use except destruction. This would have been easier had you followed the customs Huanglong, speaking with overt politeness and layers of false praise, he knew exactly how to deal with that. 

With a sigh, he came to the conclusion that a small embellishment on a truth he was loathe to admit would be best, "You're correct in assuming I was waiting for you, I wanted to-"

"I already said no yesterday," the dismissive tone as you carefully arranged both delicate and durable blossoms alongside each other had him biting back a scoff. The faint trail of blood that ran from your palm to disappear under your sleeve had him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Let me finish damn it," you truly were adamant in testing his patience with your carefree movements, "I need a bouquet of flowers. Consider me picking this spot an apology for charring your wares, even if it did save you from your own carelessness."

People's lives were their own concern, and each have a responsibility to weigh their options and act according to their own convictions. Mortefi could provide instructions, optimal paths, tools that could aid the pursuit of a goal, he couldn't force anyone to utilize it. Knowledge that was both freeing and infuriating. 

"Oh. Well, that's another matter entirely then. Occasion, colors, budget, and if you have any specific requests for a flower that you don't see here," you shrugged your shoulders, "then you should've made the request yesterday."

He felt his eyes widen at the number of considerations, glancing around the still empty streets and briefly wondering what you would do with the little stand if a storm ensued. 

"You put no thought into this did you?" You were smiling now, like a rose stripped of thorns as you caught on, "let's start with occasion. If it's for a lover, we wouldn't want to put a flower symbolizing dishonesty in there now would we?"

How you had managed to get your hands on wintry bells was something best left unconsidered, he did however appreciate the crisp scent of them, almost a little prickly if not for the enveloping softness of the belle poppies that nestled like drops of blood in the snow. For all the 'subtle' artistry of making it resemble him, perhaps he hadn't been as subtle in his excuses as he thought - this was clearly made with him in mind, and the work you put in to gather them fresh each morning, the price had almost made him laugh in disbelief. 

Breakfast was consumed in silence, pondering if he should leave the flowers at home where they would stand and wither without truly being enjoyed, or if he should accept the contamination of his laboratory to not let it go to waste. 

Mortefi never overestimated his own abilities, if he found a barrier then he worked his way through. That was all there was to it. The languid notes filling the room were a stark contrast to his own growing unrest, fitting the small components together in the intricate casing a Sisyphean task with the way his leg had been bouncing under the desk for the past thirty minutes. 

Just a little longer, surely, and then he could put this all behind him. Need to be useful fed and satisfied so it could crawl back into the pits of his being. It would be so much easier if you had simply taken the offer, made him some insane request with greed in your eyes, he could have accepted, made something to fulfill it in the worst way possible - a sentinel with an obnoxious alarm that doesn't turn off unless some ridiculous parameter was met? 

You loathed to admit that the visits from Mortefi had quickly become a treasured part of your daily routine, more often than not finding him already waiting for your return. The occasion was never more than a string of grumbled sounds, noncommittal in a way that had you grinning as you picked out foliage to substantiate the bouquet. Extra income was nice as well, being on a relatively tight budget after spending most of your savings on moving. 

But it was for the better. The people here were nicer, even if you hadn't really had the time to socialize much. Getting through was your specialty, having always been, lovingly of course, likened to a persistent weed. You would find your footing in Jinzhou as well.

Handing over the carefully bound arrangement of various crimson flowers, you'd even found some vines that grew black thorns, positioning them far from anywhere a sane person would hold, you couldn't help but smile at the grumpy looking researcher. 

"I'll see you tomorrow Mortefi, good luck on your research!"

The huff that left him sounded dry as ever, he'd been less talkative today, dark circles under his eyes suggesting someone might be overworking themselves. Over just the past few weeks, you'd grown accustomed to hearing him mumble to himself about projects, occasionally finding the courage to simply start asking, even if the thought of weapons made you stomach churn. It had been vague and technical at first; 'what exactly is tacetite?', 'how do you use reverberations?', but it had quickly become clear that he was prone to being sidetracked provided the right prompts.

Today had been one such day, with him having ended up talking for half an hour straight after you'd asked how he even came up with all those ideas and innovations. It felt oddly intimate, voice firm and eyes focused before finally pulling out a notepad to visualize the thought process, leaning so close that you had no choice but to laugh and shove him away to have room to work.

You saw him shift, looking almost uneasy with the flowers cradled gently in his arms, crimson eyes focused on something in the distance as he spoke, "I enjoy afternoon teas most days. There hasn't been time lately, but I plan to remedy that tomorrow. I was wondering if you would join me, considering these morning talks have grown rather lengthy, perhaps it would be better to more properly dedicate time to it."

Part 3