#glitter drinker

[cutiepieautistic]

dr. pepper stimboard

×/×/× ×/× ×/×/×

[shining-gem34]

Like Dan Feng is proud of his son for taking the intiative for what he wants which is a raccoon ass.

But, Dan Heng- In public? Really? How indecent. Scandalous even. Keep that behind closed doors.

[snowluvvie]

"I, uh... posted a pic of you. On my MySpace." Rodrick mumbled, like maybe you wouldn't hear it if he said it quiet enough. He sat in front of his computer on his beat-up desk chair, the glow illuminating his face. You gave him a little grin, crossing the room to stand over his shoulder.

"Lemme see." You demanded, resting your hand affectionately on the top of his head. He looked up at you with a little smile and those eyes ringed with eyeliner, before returning his eyes to the screen to click around a few times.

Your eyes widened in interest when he pulled up the post. It was extremely plain, he "didn't have time" for his blog, though you knew he was kinda terrified what people thought of it, and just didn't want anyone to think he was trying. You knew he definitely was, though, you'd seen the focused way his teeth tugged at his bottom lip when his fingers flew across the keyboard.

It was just a picture of you, one you recognized being from last weekend when you'd been getting ready to go out at his house. You were set up in the bathroom, makeup cluttering every inch of the smooth white countertop and the back of the toilet, too. Hair pulled back so it was out of your way, face intently focused as you put your lashes on. It was a cute pic, even if you weren't all the way ready, you let it slide. You could even see a little sliver of Rodrick in the pic, reflected in the mirror when he'd leaned against the doorframe to take it. You remember turning around and waving him off with a laugh, but he sat with you in the bathroom while you finished your makeup, watching you from the edge of the tub with admiring eyes.

Your eyes caught on the title of the post, which just read "glitter glue drinker" and that made you laugh loudly. A couple of his friends comments only made it worse, one of them reading: "she lookz like it." Rodrick's face was lit up with glee as he watched you laugh, effectively giving your stamp of approval, and he was visibly relieved.

"That's cute." You offered him, leaning down over his shoulder to kiss his cheek, though he kept you there long enough to snag a longer kiss on the lips, and he tasted like a tootsie roll.

[ozarkthedog]

𝐲𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞

summary: being an assistant to a Hollywood star has its perks like attending a lavish holiday event that’s brimming with celebrities.

warnings: fluff! dieter bravo x afab!reader. meet cute? kissing. Christmas vibes. mistletoe. dieter being his usual silly self. w.c: 1.7k

author’s note: this is a gift for @jennaispunk via the @dieterbravobrainrotclub Holiday Gift Exchange! I hope you enjoy this lil’ fic, Jenn! Happy Holidays, lovely! 💙 thank you @sp00kymulderr for hosting!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⋅ 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

It was the kind of holiday party where everything felt just a little bit brighter—lights twinkling from every corner, the smell of cinnamon and pine hanging in the air, laughter rising over soft jazz in the background. A sleek modern mansion nestled in the Hollywood Hills hosting the annual gathering.

You adjusted the straps of your dress while you sat at the bar. It was a sleek dark red velvet number you'd picked up on sale, hoping it'd help you fit into the glamorous party and not stick out like a sore thumb.

You glanced at your phone, scrolling through a few emails you needed to catch up on. As an assistant to one of the hottest new actors in Hollywood, your life was a constant balancing act, but tonight, for once, it was about a bit of relaxation. 

"Feel free to unwind," Your boss says, adjusting their outfit in the back seat of the SUV on the way to the festive soiree. "No need to keep an eye on me. Darren Eigan will be there, so I'll be stuck to him like glue."

You turn in your seat and lean against the bar, surveying the party. From across the room, you spy your boss eagerly chatting up the infamous director. They'd gushed about wanting to work with him for years. You couldn't blame them for trying.

Your eyes scanned the room again as you slowly sipped the tart purple wine. You'd never been a drinker, so the glass felt more like a prop than something to enjoy.

A raucous laugh catches your ear.

He was standing, drinking glass in hand, with a group of people near the opening of a dazzling archway decorated with little sprigs of green mistletoe tied with a bright red bow.

You knew a fake laugh from a mile away. You learned the craft when you moved to LA, having to grace a phony smile and compliment almost every second of the day. 

Dieter Bravo. Hollywood's reluctant star— known for his roles in blockbusters and indie films and winning an oh-so-coveted Oscar. You were surprised to see him at a party like this. He seemed to be the loner kind, much preferring to work on his art than bullshit his night away.

His salt and pepper curls helped prop the shades he wore like a shield, ready to slip the glasses down his hooked nose and sneak out the back door at a moment's notice. The first three buttons on his black silk shirt were left open; his golden skin glowed in the dim room. His black on black attire looked crisp and expensive, like the gray scruff filling his jaw and lining his lips. 

Something was magnetic about him—his presence drew others in without trying or caring.

Someone in the group spoke, and Dieter laughed again. Another half-hearted smile tugged at his lips before falling into a thin, flat line.

You found yourself slipping from your seat and leaving your drink behind as you moved closer. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe because Dieter resonated with your pain. Even in a crowd full of joy and glittering faces, you felt alone.

As you neared the group, your heel caught on an ugly red and green throw rug, making you tumble into the actor and ceasing the chatter.

"Whoa, hey now," Dieter blurts, catching you with one arm.

He weaved it securely around your waist as you both stumbled away from the group. You clutched his broad shoulders, a safe haven if you ever knew one, and steadied your heels back on the ground. Thankfully, his drink didn’t spill all over his suit and your dress.

"You okay?" Dieter's voice was warm and familiar despite the fact you'd had never met him before. His hands lingered on your waist, a wry thumb rubbing the dark butter like velvet, zeroing all his attention on you.

You cleared your throat and bid the flames that fanned your cheeks away. "I'm so sorry. I normally don't wear heels." You apologize. "Pobody's Nerfect!"

Dieter's dark eyes caught like a bright starscape in the sparkling overhead lights as he laughed wholeheartedly at the silly phrase. It was genuine and natural, forcing himself to hold his belly and bowl over with honest laughter.

As he catches his breath, he wipes a tear from his eye. "Did you come up with that?" 

You shrugged and waved a hand, "I wish. I'm not that clever."

"I highly doubt that." the actor comments, before taking a sip of his drink. “You must be someone special to be invited to a party like this." He raises the glass toward the throngs of people filling the massive living room.

You cock your head. "My boss is someone special. Thankfully, they need me like a goose needs a gaggle."

His eyes go wide once more. "There you go again!" 

You wave him off, but inside, you're melting. 

A waiter places a tray of food on a table to your right, distracting the both of you.

"Do you think anyone actually eats these tiny hors d'oeuvres, or are they for like little Christmas elves?" Dieter asked, glancing at a tray of tiny canapés.

You chuckled. "I'm pretty sure they're just to make the people who aren't drinking feel productive. Like, here, eat this, pretend you're having a full meal."

He laughed again. It gets better every time you hear it— it lights up the room. 

"Wanna be productive with me?" he flirts, picking up one of the tiny snacks and holding it out to you with doe eyes.

You quirked a brow, hesitant for a split second before biting into the canapés. It was absurdly delicious for something so small, and you giggled, caught off guard by how natural it felt to talk to him.

"How do you look so... untouchable on screen and so normal off it?" you question without thinking.

Dieter tilted his head, his smile softening. "I'm really good at pretending." He drifts off, eyes wandering to the floor, thoughts drifting to the front of his mind before he takes a healthy swig from his glass. "Sometimes it's nice to escape yourself for a while."

You nod, understanding the need to run away.  

"Are you working on any new art?" You try to lighten the mood, glancing at the red paint under his trimmed nails. "I can't wait for the next mind-bending piece from the one and only Mr. Bravo."

He smiled again, that knowing, almost mischievous look in his eyes. "Wouldn't little Ms. Canapés like to know." he teases, the warmth in his voice holding something more than just casual conversation.

Just then, someone at the bar called his name. Dieter turned his head, briefly distracted by the person waving him over. You take a timid step back, wishing you had more time with the artist, but before you can move, a reveler nudges you toward the archway where the mistletoe hangs.

You glanced at Dieter, who was still distracted by the call but now seemed to have noticed where you were standing. He looked at you with a wry smirk.

"Do you believe in fate?" he queries, his voice suddenly quieter.

You whisper, heart in your throat. "I suppose so."

He takes a step toward you, his leather wing tips shuffle against the floor, and for a moment, the noise of the party fades as the space between you closes. The dim lights cast shadows that make his features even more inviting. There was something in his gaze—something natural and soft that wasn't at all like the characters he portrayed on screen.

Without a word, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that felt like it had been waiting to happen. It wasn't dramatic or rushed, just slow and honest, as though the mistletoe wasn't just some holiday tradition but the beginning of something unexpected.

When you pull away, Dieter smiles again, this time with a hint of surprise. "That was... festive."

You chuckle, a little breathless. "I hope I'm still on Santa's Nice List now."

"The Nice List?" Dieter raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, don't you want to get what you wished for?" You jibe, grin widening as you step back, giving him space to leave.

Dieter snorts, glancing toward the bar as more people wave him over. "Oh, but I already did," he winks.

Your face flames. You bite your cheek, trying your best to not squeal.

The two of you share one last look before the crowd pulls him away. Neither of you could quite shake the moment. 

As the night continued, shared glances from across the room kept you busy. Every conversation with someone new resulted in sincere apologies when you had them repeat what they said because a particular actor kept stealing your attention.

It seemed you distracted him just as much at times. You caught him dragging his eyes down your frame and back up again. He'd either cower like a thief caught red-handed or gaze at you like he wanted to watch the sun come up with you in his bed. 

The crowd of people slowly dwindled down as the clock struck midnight. Much to your dismay, you'd lost sight of Dieter an hour ago when he stepped out onto the back patio for a smoke with a fellow actor. You begrudgingly slipped on your heavy coat, headed down the front steps to the SUV, idling at the curb, and waited for your boss. 

Leaning against the passenger door, you slowly breathe in the crisp night. The heated feelings that swarmed your belly all evening finally simmered to a rolling boil.

"Canapés?" 

You jerk against the metal door as a voice chimes to your right. You clutch your chest with a gasp.

Dieter appears from the shadows, hands raised, like he's dealing with a stray animal. "Shit, sorry, it's only me." He cringes at the slight fear in your eyes.

"You bastard." You curse with a playful huff. "Wait, did you just call me Canapés?"

He flashes an awkward grin and anxiously rubs the back of his neck. "Well, I forgot to ask your name, and I didn't realize until after we kissed, and then I thought it was too late. I don't want to be "that guy."  Dieter mimes quotations in the air and swallows hard. "So, yeah."

You step closer, your heels clink against the cement, as you whisper your name and slink your arms around his shoulders. Dieter once again weaves his hold around your velvet waist, molding your body to his.

His plush lips brush across yours. "We don't have any mistletoe." He states cheekily.

"I would've kissed you without it in the first place." You confess, pressing your lips to his for another precious moment before he breaks the kiss. 

"Wanna go make it on Santa’s Naughty list with me?" 

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[my-name-is-apollo]

Found a translation of hymns to Apollo and Dionysus where their epithets have been arranged in alphabetical order and this might be my new favourite thing because

- Book 9 of the Greek Anthology, translated by W.R. Paton

Look at the contrast between some of their epithets (Apollo and Dionysus respectively):

"hater of lies, giver of the soul" - "liar, tearer of the soul"

"soft speaking" - "noisy" (lol)

"sober" - "Deep drinker"

"Sweet-spoken, sweet-hearted, gentle-handed" - "Prone to anger, stout of heart"

"Gentle, sorrowless, giver of wealth, saviour from trouble" - "Jealous, very wrathful, envious, bestower of envy"

"father of fruits" - "eater of raw flesh" (BRUH)

"father of light" - "God of the night"

"Cheerer of the spirit" - "Disturber of the soul"

BUT they still have a lot in common:

"stiller of grief - healer of sorrow", "strong hearted - lion hearted", "soft haired - tender haired", "dweller on the hills - dweller in the woods" "thousand-shaped", "desirable" and my favourite, "common to all".

And it really does encapsulate the relationship between Apollo and Dionysus so well (and the duality of Apollo and Dionysus as individual gods too)

I'm also a sucker for epithets that describe appearance and I'm absolutely delighted with Apollo being "rose-coloured", "golden, golden-complexioned" and "glittering" (but is anyone surprised? XD)

Dionysus on the other hand, a bit concerning cause "slender, wrinkled"? And also he's "liquid"?? (idk what that's even supposed to mean. A reference to wine?) But "golden-filleted" and "Golden-horned" sound lovely <3

Also the fact that Dionysus is called "Satyr" and Apollo "Titan" is very interesting to me. Apollo - Titan makes sense when you consider the conflation between him and Helios. But Dionysus is a surprise. Are there any myths where he's syncretised/conflated with Pan (since he's the only Satyr god I can remember)? Of course it could be to show his chthonic nature, or that he's mostly around satyrs. But this piqued my curiosity.

[xxtc-96xx]

Huey- rock eater

Newtwo- crown eater

Mewtwo- Glitter drinker

Pig- ???

God eater

[bradleysass]

confidence boosting potion - @moonchaser-microfic - wc: 694

Confidence Boosting Potion: a potion that makes the drinker more confident

The problem began, as many of James Potter’s problems did, with Sirius Black.

“I found it in the back of Slughorn’s storage cabinet,” Sirius said, holding up a suspiciously glittery vial. “Looks like it was made by someone very confident in their potion-making skills. Or someone very drunk. Either way, we have to try it.”

James squinted at it. “What is it?”

“No idea. But I’m calling it Liquid Lads™. Just down it before the match and trust me.”

“You’re calling it—what? No. No one should trust something with ™ in the name.”

But James, as he often did when Sirius was grinning at him like that, caved. Which is how, twenty minutes later, he was striding into the Quidditch pitch like he owned the world, his robes somehow flaring dramatically despite the complete lack of wind.

Remus, sitting in the stands with a book he had no intention of reading, glanced up as James did an unnecessary backflip onto his broom. He blinked.

“Why is he… posing?” he asked Sirius, who had dropped down beside him with a fistful of snacks.

“Confidence potion,” Sirius said proudly. “Worked like a charm.”

“You gave James Potter—a man who once winked at a mirror for fifteen straight minutes—a confidence potion?”

Sirius shrugged. “He seemed like he could use the boost.”

Remus turned slowly to look at him. “The last thing, James Fleamont Potter, needs is a confidence boosting potion.”

“He’s not me.”

“He is you. He’s your brain twin. Your chaos soulmate.”

Sirius threw popcorn at him. “You're just mad I didn’t offer you any.”

“I don’t need a potion to feel good about myself,” Remus muttered, flipping a page. “I have self-loathing, thanks.”

On the pitch, James was now flying with both arms outstretched, yelling something about how he was the wind. He wasn't even chasing the Quaffle.

“Is he narrating his own match?” Remus asked.

“Yep,” said Sirius. “Told you. Confidence.”

After James spectacularly missed a goal because he was too busy posing mid-air, McGonagall called a timeout purely out of pity. The team circled in, sweaty and confused.

“We’re losing,” said Mary Macdonald, ever practical. “Because our Chaser thinks he’s auditioning for a broomstick musical.”

“I am the musical,” James said serenely. “I am the main event.”

“Someone knock him out,” Dorcas muttered. “Please.”

When the game resumed, Remus stood at the base of the stands with his arms crossed, waiting.

James saw him. James beamed.

He flew directly down, did another flip (unnecessary), and landed like a dramatic prince returning from war.

“Moony,” he said, hands on hips, hair glinting unnaturally. “You came to watch me.”

“I always come to watch you,” Remus deadpanned. “You just don’t usually notice because you’re not hopped up on… glitter juice.”

“Ah, but today,” James said, taking his hand and dramatically kissing the back of it, “I see everything. And what I see is a handsome, broody man who wants me.”

“James,” Remus said, trying very hard not to smile, “you need to get back to the match.”

“Or,” James said, eyes gleaming, “I can take you on a broom ride across the lake. Just the two of us. We’ll see the sunrise. I’ll serenade you.”

“You’ll get a penalty,” Remus replied, face pink.

“I’ll get your heart.”

“You already have it,” Remus said before he could stop himself, then immediately flushed crimson. “Shit.”

James froze.

“Wait,” he said, the glitter in his eyes dimming just slightly. “Wait, do I?”

Remus rubbed his forehead. “Yes, you idiot. But not because of your dumb potion.”

“I feel like a god.”

“You look like a disaster.”

James laughed. He looked at him with such open affection it was stupid. “You like me.”

“Obviously. Everyone else hates you.”

“Even without the potion?”

“Especially without the potion.”

James wiggled his eyebrows. “Would you kiss me if I scored the winning goal?”

Remus blinked. “If you don’t, I’m hexing you off your broom.”

James turned with renewed energy. “That’s my boy!”

As he kicked off again, hair in disarray and confidence through the roof, Remus sighed and muttered to himself, “Merlin help me, I’m dating a Quidditch peacock.”

[zeninprincess]

pastries and documents; n. kento

wc: 2.8k | nanami kento x reader | office au

warnings: drinking 🍸, the use of 'name', no beta we die like kento

office romance au where nanami is your boss who is secretly in love with you, and you're pining him so bad. reader gets sick and nanami took care of her

a/n: this was supposed to be aizen but i feel like nanami would fit this better than aizen 🤭 also if there's still "aizen" or "grimmjow" in it my bad bro im writing this at 3 in the morning I haven't edited shit.

“good morning mr. nanami”

“morning ms. lastname”

nanami was a man who couldn't care less about feelings, love, or carnal desires. a man like him is someone whose calculated, precise, and self-sufficient. so, when a liability like you exist in his life, nanami could not stand the fact you light up his world, he needs to have you. you two were nothing alike, nanami being the calmer individu while you're a ray of sunshine, a bomb of glitter.

you see, despite you two being a co-worker, for nearly a year or so, you two had never interacted much, and when you do it's limited to “good morning mr. nanami” or when you bump into him in the middle of the day you'd say “good afternoon” “good evening” and when departing from office you’d say “see you tomorrow”

just because nanami is someone who prefers being a lone wolf doesnt mean hes a cruel boss to you, he was neither cold nor tough. matter of fact, contrary to popular beliefs, he was warm and approachable, he's easy to talk to. almost each time you say greetings or farewell he'd flash you a closed smile, or a on a rare occassion he would reply back depending on how he feels that day.

so when you find yourself for almost a year only interacting formally, what was the straw that finally made you decide to make a move first? there was no easy answer to this however, what really prompted you to pine him was the fact that you were drunk at a your co-worker’s celebration party.

that evening a fellow co-worker, had gotten the promotion to become the branch manager. satoru decided to throw a drinking party at a bar in which your boss, nanami was invited as well. after a few too many drinks you're left in a state half conscious. and even though the night is still young, and you know that, you were never a big drinker. even before this you have never really drank much. knowing this, satoru made fun of you for being a goody two shoes and you were having none of that so you tried your best to prove it to satoru's face.

‘tried’ being the keyword because after 3 glass of beer you're tipsy already, stuttering and blubbering anything that comes to your mind. little did you know, nanami watched you from across the table. observing silently, like a wolf stalking it's prey. back to you whose now on your fourth glass of beer you chug it all down gaining cheers from people hyping you up. you wipe the foam of beer that sat just right at the corner of your lip, and just when you thought it was over they ordered one more glass of beer. feeling peer pressured, you laughed and chug down the fifth, and then the sixth all in under half an hour.

then, there you are tipsy and disorganised. perhaps feeling bad, nanami interfered before satoru could coax you into drinking your seventh glass. “alright thats enough�� he said as he adjusts his glass, walking over to your seat. and just when hes about to reach you, everything turned black. your body went into shock from alcohol poisoning.

waking up in the er, you found yourself dishevelled, missing one of your stocking and your black sweater. lucky youre covered in duvet, because people could see whats under your mini pencil skirt that you wear everyday to the office. you look around and found nanami sitting beside you, reading something you cannot quite make out. you try to sit up only to fall back into the not-so-comfortable hospital bed.

nanami turns his head to you, “easy, you could break that pretty little skull of yours” he chuckles as he helps you adjust your position. “w-what happened?” you ask, your voice raspy from dehydration. but before nanami could reply, a nurse and a certain white haired individual walks in.

“thank god… you could have a permanent brain damage. its because mr. nanami youre still alive!!” satoru said as he hugs you, his face shows guilt and especially concern about your wellbeing. “you see, you could have died, but thank god mr. nanami took you to the hospital as soon as you pass out. doctors had to pump your stomach to get the alcohol out of your system” satoru mansplained while you writhe in pain as you feel your head spinning around.

the nurse who was adjusting your iv, gave you a glass of water to reduce your migraine. nanami, whose sitting again now scolds satoru for pressuring you to drink more than what you can drink. you shot a weak smile as you thanked the nurse before she departed from the room.

thank god it was friday, you had saturday and sunday to rest. as nanami drove you home the next day, you couldn't stop thanking him for his action that saved your life and the fact that he paid for all your hospital bills.

“are you sure it's okay mr. nanami? i could send you back the-”

he cuts you off

“dont worry name, its my obligation to watch over other co-workers. besides, whats more important is youre alive and well” nanami replied followed with a smile. his eyes watched the road intently.

“i mean i know you would do the same to me name. im just returning the favor early”

you don't know why but that moved something inside of you. the way he articulate those words makes you feel a certain way. maybe its the fact hes so charming, or maybe how eloquent he is, dancing with words as if its his usual routine, it might also be the fact that he just have that natural charm, i mean the guy is enchanting, elegant, and articulate. but you would blame it to the fact that it's the first time you heard him talks about something other than stupid company stuff he usually discussed during meetings.

“right name?” he asks

“in a heartbeat mr. nanami” you replied. he clicks his tongue, the way his name rolls on your tongue sounds like songs of praises in his ears.

“call me nanami, or kento when it's just the two of us” you look at him, surprised by his request. you were surprised since you aren't even close to him hell, it's the first time you guys ever talk to these extent, somehow it felt like you knew each other for eternity.

that’s when you decided to return the favor by making him an apple pie on sunday morning. baking has always been your forte since you were young. with a family of chefs and bakers, you were taught how to bake sweets and pastries as soon as you could walk. and it grows on you because every time you have the opportunity to bake, you will do it and this one of the instances where you actually got a chance to do so.

monday comes, you walk into the office with files on your left hand, bag on your shoulder, and a freshly baked apple pie on your right hand. you knocked on his door with one of your elbow, then you opened the door. there he is, basking in all his glory with documents and files mounting all over his desk. he looks up to you. smiling, his eyes flicks into your right hand.

“i hope im not interrupting you, mr. nanami. i baked you a pie as a thank you gift” and with that you place the pie on his desk.

“oh you don't need to do this, but I guess thank you” he smiles. “uhhh its such a shame it's bigger than my stomach. if you dont mind, should we eat this together later?” he offered.

your words stumbled, your breath quickened, and your face turned red. “um, absolutely! but won't I upset your girlfriend?” you asked hoping he would say something like…

“i dont have a girlfriend”

oh… relief washes over you kmowing that nanami isnt taken, not yet atleast. well it's set then, you two are going to have lunch together.

this process repeats again and again. some day you found yourself wasting your break time to come to him, you even picked up his habits of staying up late in the office. and it was not unnoticed by your colleagues, especially satoru. he wonders if you got alcohol poisoning was a blessing in disguise. his boss who's now turning 35 finally found himself a girlfriend, or so he hoped.

despite the contrasting differences between you and nanami, you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame, engaging into him more and more. each day you found yourself developing a crush on your boss. you even began to boldly flirt with him.

nanami on the other hand he's not really playing hard to get nor did he reciprocate, he was just there deflecting your sweet talks and your attempts to seduce him. although, deep inside nanami loves to see you try and pine him. he loves your attention and the pastry you bake him as an attempt to get him to fall in love with you.

he was a silent lover, he loves you from afar watching to his heart content, he loves when you do small things only he noticed. for example, when you're anxious you'd bite the nail of your thumbs, or how your fingers curls around your locks when thinking. he found all of that cute, it just fits you so perfectly. he also plays favourite with you, and it really stirred up your dynamic with your co-workers.

he would do things like extending your deadline, dismissing you whenever you're late, even giving you extra day off whenever he saw you depraved of your sleep. he would praise you here and there but he never really show how much he likes you, unless you really look into it.

your mother taught you that a way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and it's true because after weeks of baking him pastries, cake, sweets, spending lunchtime with him, he felt empty the day you didn't come to work and brought him his pastries as usual. your mom taught you well and nanami is the proof.

you never skipped a day working, even when he insists on giving you extra time off, you would deny the offer “i want to see you you know” you gave him the same excuse each time. until today, where you were nowhere to be found, not in the office kitchen, not in the cafeteria, and ofcourse your cubicle is empty.

nanami was alarmed by your absence from work, as you had never skipped a day before. he was also troubled by the fact that you didn't pick up his calls. He inquired about your location to satoru, who was smoking a cigarette outside the building while they both sipped their coffee. satoru then provided nanami with your information.

you were sick, you had high fever from getting wet when walking to the train station last night and now it made sense. nanami quickly called his secretary and told her to clear his schedule for the day. after that, he hurriedly drive himself to your house. he wanted to see you, he needed to see you. with a basket of fruit and a few medicine on his left hands and his briefcase on his right hand.

standing infront of your apartment door, a 6’1 man ringing the bell with each second he grew impatient, and he decided after the third time ringing your bell that he would invite himself in, but before he could do that he was met with a clicking sound of the white door.

looking up, your eyes met nanami’s. you were taken aback at the sudden appearance of nanami. sharp features adorned his already perfect visage. his suit is always neat with no signs of crinkles or stains. it's a stark contrast to your appearance now, with your hair tangled, covering yourself in your warm blanket, face pale as a ghost.

“can i come in?” he asks.

you took a step behind, letting him in.

“sorry if it's messy” you muttered under your breath, your voice has a hint of raspiness from lack of hydration, it was the same raspiness nanami once heard in the hospital. you invited him to your living room, setting down the medicine and fruits.

“tis for me?” you eyed the fruits and the meds. he nodded his head.

coughing non stop, he leads you down to your beige sofa. he put a palm on your forehead. you were burning up and nanami couldn't help but pray for god to just transfer all the pain you feel right now to him. he couldn't bear seeing you like this. then, he heard your stomach grumble loudly, and nanami couldn't ignore that.

“you haven't eaten yet? see, this is why young people these days get sick easily, they skip breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and- bla bla bla bla… you couldnt really process his scolding as you're too sick to argue back. seeing you rolled up in your duvet, trying not to fall asleep on the couch melts his heart.

-and the way you younglings live, my god you guys would rather stay up late to procrastinate more” his scolding came to an abrupt end when he felt your hand holding his. you didn't spoke any words but nanami understood.

“sorry, i'm just concerned for you” he paused “it's just, i don't want anything to happen to you” he elaborate further.

now nanami found himself pacing to your kitchen, taking off his blazer, loosening his tie, rolling up his sleeves. see, the thing about nanami is that he'd do anything for his loved ones, he may not be the best at cooking but he'll try and definitely succeed at that. he's planning to make you an egg porridge.

you desperately crawl to the kitchen trying to stop nanami from burdening himself but to no use, he carries you back to the living room and pins you on the couch.

“be a good girl for me, yeah? the porridge is already done so wait here” and you just nod. he smiles and paces himself to the kitchen once more before coming back with a tray of porridge and tea. “here, i know i'm not the best at cooking but atleast eat up for me” he said as he set the tray down to the table.

you eagerly sat up, ready to taste his food. he sat beside you and fed you with a spoon. “hey! im not a child. i can feed myself!' you protested, but nanami didn't give in. now you were being fed by your own boss whom you'd never have thought would do things to this extent for the sake of his ‘co-worker’

after a while the bowl is empty and you've taken your meds, the one that nanami bought you. he praised you for being good.

“so you do care about me nanami” you smiled as you teased him. expecting no response as usual, you were surprised when he replied back to your teasing. you followed him to the kitchen, he's doing your dishes while you sat on the kitchen island.

“of course i do. i'm worried sick for you!!” he exclaimed. “day and night I think of you, your wellbeing, your whereabouts. i sleep and the first thing i think about after opening my lids are you. when i see pastries i couldn't help but missing you, i breath for you, i want you no, i need you name” he confessed.

“ever since you started working here i-” he paused. “i was waiting for the chance to talk to you” he sighed. glancing at you.

your face reddened, the confession took you aback. he looked at you with loving eyes, it was as if nanami were drunk in love. “im not a man of many words but I always try” he continues his rambling while soaping up spoons “nanami… all these times i thought you're just being nice to me. i didn't know that you like me back”

“like?” he scoffed, not in a cocky way “no, no, you're wrong. i not only like you but I fell in love with you name” he continues to express his deep feelings for you.

“so…”

“be mine name, please. i can't stand the thought of you- mmph!!” he was cut with a deep kiss.

he didn't hesitate to kiss you back, deeper, more aggressive, it was full of desire yet gentle. you pull back and he's already missing your lips. “yes! yes i do!!”

“let me take you on a date, please” he begs. you chuckled and nodded to his request. “come here and kiss me already” he smiled as your lips dominate each other.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

bonus:

satoru cursed under his breath as he look at the clock, it was 11pm he found himself juggling between his works and your unfinished documents that nanami had forced him to finish during the days you were sick.

“god damn it. he better gave me a raise after this!!”

©️ zeninprincess 2024. reposting, plagiarizing, translating or claiming my works are strictly forbidden.

[ladylooch]

Can you write a blurb about Nico comforting Lexi after she went a bit too hard and is hung over 🙋🏻‍♀️

This is completely anonymous btw

Anon you sound REALLY similar to a mutual who was in my inbox earlier..... Crazy coincidence!

Rule number one of day drinking - DO NOT FALL ASLEEP!!! 

Come for the fics, stay for the advice.

I am dead. 

I have literally died. 

God if I'm not dead, please end it all now before I wake up.

Those are the thoughts that Lexi Hischier chants the morning after the 2024-25 home opener. A nauseating thud pulses in each of her temples. Her stomach gurgles uncomfortable, sending out distress signals that are as confusing as the time of day to Lexi. Inside her mouth is a cotton factory and her eyes are crusted over with glitter and mascara from not taking her make up off the previous evening.

She should have listened to Emma. Tequila was a bad idea.

But it was home opener! And it had been a long off-season, even if it was filled with so much joy marrying the man of her dreams. 

The man of her dreams who didn’t have the decency to keep the blinds…. 

Lexi’s eyes pop open, realizing the curtains are still pulled shut. There is in fact no light bursting in through the apartment window, and instead her brain is playing tricks on her as if she isn't already going through it. Against her pillow, her head pulses more at her eyes being open, taking in more activity that frazzles her dehydrated brain. 

“Ow.” Lexi murmurs.

“You okay, sweets?” She hears Nico whisper.

Lexi rolls over, seeing Nico standing in the bathroom doorway with his toothbrush. Lexi stares at him, eyes squinted- one shut completely- while breathing heavily from her mouth. Nico purses his lips, accenting those beautiful dimples she couldn’t stop kissing last night on the way home until Nico insisted she had to buckle her seatbelt again.

At least, she thinks that's what happened.

“Woof.” Nico states.

“Mmmm.” Lexi mutters, unable to say anything else. She pauses, putting a hand over her mouth. Thankfully the moment of nausea passes. 

In the bathroom, Nico finishes brushing his teeth, then carefully comes over to her on the bed. He stays on his knees, then brushes her greasy, tangled hair out of her face. The backs of his fingers run over her cheek, assessing her with his worried brown eyes.

“Gonna go out and grab some stuff for you. We don't have much on hand to help right now." Neither her or Nico are big drinkers, so it isn't surprising they are low on supplies.

Lexi nods, not even opening her eyes to acknowledge him more. She can't when she is white knuckling her entire existence. Nico leaves with a light pat to her thigh after pulling the blankets up higher to tuck her in.

While Nico is gone, Lexi stays crumbled in bed. She begs her body to go back to sleep so she can have a second wake up that will allow her body to process out more of the alcohol. She gets a few minutes here or there, but nothing substantial enough to cure her. 

Nico comes back some time later with a pharmacy bag, a to-go cup of coffee and a brown paper bag.

“Okay, we have Pedialyte, a cup of coffee, and a big ass breakfast burrito with hot sauce. Also, I filled up your water bottle for you and grabbed some headache stuff from the medicine cabinet.” He sets the medication and her purple water bottle down on the bedside table. “And if that doesn’t work, I also bought vodka. I suggest you toss it back like you were doing with the shots last night... get it over with quick."

“Ick.” Lexi whines, folding her arm over her eyes. Nico laughs next to her, then she feels his lips brush across hers.

“Wanna sit up for me?” Nico asks.

Lexi is a limp noodle as Nico helps her adjust into a sitting position. It is so much worse than laying down. The pressure change has her touching her throbbing head with gentle finger tips.

“I’m never drinking again. I mean it this time, Neeks.” She whimpers. 

“Okay, sweets.” Nico nods encouragingly. “Let’s focus on getting some of this in you, yeah?” He shakes out two pills from the bottle on the nightstand, then hands her the water bottle. He watches her swallow them then gives a tender smooch on her lips as a reward. “Good job. How about some coffee?”

“No.” She shakes her head delicately.

“Yeah, let’s just cut to the burrito. Then we can hit the shot of vodka. 99 bananas right?”

“Neeks. I am hanging on by a thread here. This is no time for jokes. You might be a widow any minute now.” But she says it with a non-serious glare that has Nico chuckling as he unwraps the burrito.

"Is that your professional medical opinion?" He asks.

"Yes." She says pathetically as he holds the burrito up to her lips. Lexi takes a tentative bite, getting a mouthful of egg, cheese, and sausage.  “Oh yeah. That’s gonna do it.” Lexi declares after her first swallow. The food instantly settles her sour stomach. Lexi takes another bite, sighing happily and leaning back into the headboard.

“She’s gonna live.” Nico declares.

“Mhm. Cause I have the best nurse.” Nico tilts his head to the side in adoration. He reaches a finger up to wipe a piece of egg off her cheek after her third bite. 

“Only because I learned from you, baby.” Nico declares. 

Despite her condition, Lexi grins, collecting his cheeks in her hands so she can kiss his lips properly. 

“Thank you. I’m going to be completely worthless all day and we had so much to do. I’m sorry, babe.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.” Lexi rubs at his dimples with her thumbs. 

She is staring at his eyes, but Nico is looking at her lips. 

“You looked so good last night.” Nico suddenly whispers. “I saw you at one point in the second period and it was like.. that’s my wife.” He beams. “Never gonna take for granted getting to take care of you.” He says it so simply, with no recognition of all the other people in the world who would complain or get angry about her irresponsible circumstance.

But then again, Nico Hischier isn’t most people. He sees it as an opportunity to love harder on his wife.

For that, Lexi is thankful.

She'll be the best damn patient nurse Nico has ever had.

[switch19d]

Possessive Tendencies

In a room full of sharks, Mo Guanshan makes one thing clear. He Tian isn't up for negotiation. corporate au fic, short one-shot. nsfw

The ballroom of the Grand Victoria Hotel glittered like a gilded cage, its vaulted ceilings dripping with crystal chandeliers that scattered light across the sea of bespoke suits and champagne flutes. Diplomats and Fortune 500 sharks circled one another with practiced smiles, their laughter a symphony of hollow currency—all sharp edges and softer agendas. But none of them mattered. Not when He Tian held court at the center of it all, leaning against the marble pillar with a tumbler of bourbon in hand, his laughter a low, velvet rumble that drew eyes like moths to a pyre.

Guan Shan watched from the shadow of the bar, his own glass of mineral water sweating in his grip. Of course. He’d warned him. Keep your fucking head down. No theatrics. No trouble. But He Tian had never met a spotlight he wouldn’t devour. Now, a Swiss investor hung on his every word, her manicured nails brushing his forearm, while an Italian tech magnate leaned in close, murmuring something that made He Tian’s smirk sharpen.

Unbelievable.

Guan Shan’s jaw tightened as he set his glass down. Time to collect what was his.

He Tian’s voice carried over the din, smooth and dangerous. “—counteroffer of fifteen percent equity, but only if you’re willing to bleed for it.” The Swiss woman laughed, too bright, too eager, her gaze lingering on the open collar of his shirt.

Guan Shan closed the distance in six strides, his oxfords silent against the Persian rug. He didn’t bother with preamble.

His hand landed on He Tian’s ass, fingers digging into the muscle beneath the tailored wool with a possessiveness that left fingerprints.

The room didn’t freeze. Didn’t gasp. But the air shifted—a ripple of raised brows, stifled coughs, the Italian’s glass pausing halfway to his lips.

He Tian’s sentence faltered. Just once. Just enough.

“Apologies,” Guan Shan said, tone flat as he squeezed harder, thumb brushing the inner curve in a silent threat. “My partner’s prone to wandering. Occupational hazard.”

The Swiss woman blinked. “Partner?”

He Tian recovered faster, his chuckle a warm blade. “In every sense of the word.” He leaned back into Guan Shan’s touch, unrepentant. “Mo Guan Shan. Ruthless negotiator. Terrible drinker. Excellent grip.”

Guan Shan’s glare could’ve iced the bourbon in He Tian’s glass. “We’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” He Tian swirled his drink, feigning innocence. “But Signore Ricci was just explaining how badly he wants my algorithm.”

“And I’m explaining how badly I’ll break your legs if you make me repeat myself.”

The Italian cleared his throat. “Perhaps we’ll… reconvene after the keynote?”

“Doubt it.” Guan Shan steered He Tian toward the nearest exit, hand still anchored to his ass, fingers flexing in warning with every step.

———

The hallway outside was a crypt compared to the ballroom’s fever, its walls lined with oil portraits of dead tycoons smirking down at them. He Tian waited until the door swung shut before shoving Guan Shan against a pillar, his composure cracking to reveal the feral grin beneath. “Jealous, xiānsheng?”

Guan Shan grabbed his tie, yanking him close. “You were showboating.”

“Networking.”

“Flirting.”

“Schmoozing.” He Tian’s knee slid between Guan Shan’s thighs. “Same thing you did with that French banker last week.”

“I hate the French.”

“You let him touch your cufflinks.”

“He was drunk.”

“And you’re jealous.” He Tian nipped his jaw. “Admit it.”

Guan Shan spun them, reversing their positions with a snarl. “You’re a liability. Prance around like a peacock, and someone’s gonna pluck you.”

“Pluck me?” He Tian’s laugh was a dark thrill. “You just groped me in front of NATO’s investment wing. Who’s the liability now?”

Guan Shan’s palm slid higher, beneath He Tian’s jacket, fingers splaying over the small of his back. “They’ll remember who you belong to. That’s the point.”

“Belong?” He Tian arched into the touch, voice dropping to a purr. “Careful. You’ll make me blush.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re hard.” He Tian rocked his hips forward, confirming it. “All that… claiming. Really got you going, huh?”

Guan Shan’s grip turned punishing. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

———

The kiss was a collision—liquor and spite and the lingering sugar of petit fours. Guan Shan bit He Tian’s lip, tasting blood and victory as he backed him into a shadowed alcove, shielded by velvet drapes. He Tian’s hands were everywhere, tearing at Guan Shan’s belt, shoving his shirt open, mouth trailing down his throat like he meant to brand him.

“Here?” Guan Shan hissed, even as he palmed He Tian through his slacks. “You’ve got no self-control.”

“Says the man who marked me like a fucking cave painting.” He Tian unbuckled his own belt, teeth grazing Guan Shan’s earlobe. “They’re probably still out there placing bets on whether you’ll drag me to the bathroom or the balcony.”

“Balcony’s closed.”

He Tian’s laugh was cut short as Guan Shan spun him to face the wall, hands braced against the gilded trim. “Fuck—!”

Guan Shan kicked his legs wider, the drapery swallowing their rasping breaths. “Should’ve stayed quiet.”

“Should’ve—” He Tian’s words dissolved into a groan as Guan Shan yanked his slacks down, fingers slick with the hotel-provided lotion from his pocket. “Christ—you just carry that around?”

“You’re predictable.” Guan Shan worked him open fast, ruthless, his free hand muffling He Tian’s curses. “Knew you’d need it.”

“Arrogant—ah!—bastard—”

Guan Shan silenced him with a thrust, sheathing himself in one motion. The sound He Tian made was half-snarl, half-sob, his forehead knocking against the wallpaper. “Slow—!”

“You had your spotlight.” Guan Shan set a brutal pace, the alcove trembling with each snap of his hips. “Now take your punishment.”

———

It was over quickly—too much adrenaline, too much spite. He Tian came first, teeth sunk into his own forearm to stifle his cries, body bowing backward as Guan Shan gripped his hips hard enough to bruise. Guan Shan followed, burying his face in He Tian’s shoulder to muffle his groan, the world narrowing to heat and pulse and the acid-sweet tang of triumph.

They slumped against the wall afterward, He Tian’s laughter a shaky thing. “You realize… we’ll be front-page news tomorrow.”

Guan Shan straightened his tie, fingers steady despite the sweat at his temples. “Rumors die.”

“Not when the CFO of Liang International gets bent over a wall.”

“You’ll spin it.” Guan Shan handed him a handkerchief. “Tell them I threatened your shares.”

He Tian’s grin was pure sin. “Or that I let you.”

Guan Shan paused, studying him—the rumpled hair, the smeared mouth, the bite marks peeking above his collar. “You did, didn’t you?”

He Tian leaned in, breath hot against his ear. “I always get what I want.”

Guan Shan shoved him toward the exit. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re mine.” He Tian caught his wrist, thumb brushing the racing pulse beneath. “Now buy me a drink. I’m parched.”

———

The ballroom door swung open. A hundred eyes snapped to them—to He Tian’s disheveled elegance, to Guan Shan’s iron composure, to the shared flush neither could fully hide.

Guan Shan’s hand found He Tian’s ass again, lighter now, a reminder.

He Tian raised his glass to the crowd, a toast and a challenge.

Game on.

[kyosaya-enthusiast]

meows at you!!!! What kind of drinks do you think the kitakawa like? (Mainly airi and hina but pretty much anyone else too if youve got ideas . Looks at ichika)

MEOWS BACKK!?@? Haii strawberry i couldn't come up with a response so I slept on it for a while...

First of all, I'd like to point out that we were already shown what airi's fav drink is in chapter 5!!/j

Haha.. okay, that aside, I couldn't really come up with something that Airi would really like? No matter how hard i thought of it, she just felt like a plain water drinker to me... If you have any ideas for her favorite drink definitely tell me!

For Hinaaa, this one might be a bit silly, but it actually came to me in the dream I was having just a few minutes ago.. I was in yoshi's situation (the reveal in chapter 5 where she sees Airi and Hina) BUT instead of seeing Airi grabbing Hina it was just Hina surrounded by a bunch of CAPRISUN BOXES?? (no Airi in sight) specifically strawberry kiwi...so I'm taking that as a sign! Hina loves strawberry kiwi Caprisuns

Forrr ichika well she was pretty fine with black tea with extra sugar when Airi offered her some

...but something also just tells me Dr. pepper... that girl drinks Dr. Pepper.

she puts it in a cute little glass and adds that pink edible glitter in it or something...

[sirenetica]

Damn, Girl! 🐟

Bringing to you my girl Tejeka, the heiress of Alternia. Rambling a bit under the cut vvv

Where to start. I love my girl! She's got three playlists, one a ship playlist with her ex and another her personal mixtape (songs she'd listen to rather her Vibe) and each are mostly organized by her taste. She's got that party girl vibe to her, always sneaking out to party hard or maybe hosting secret parties away from her hive. She's a big drinker, for better or worse, and its a bad habit. She's a hacker! Really just loves technology as a whole and loves breaking it apart and building it back together again with big pink glitter gifs and walls of movie scripts. She doesn't want all the trouble that comes with ruling the species (on account of the ruling empress sending her letters throughout her childhood, basically manipulating and gaslighting her, because ive always been interested in the two fuchsias of a universe having a more direct connection!) Her trollian is aniconicDebutante [AD], she's a Prince of Void derse dreamer, and has dreams about The Horrors up until she's awoken by an outside force on her moon (usually the last of her session to Wake Up so to speak)

This doesn't even cover all of the information i have for her but i think its fun to dive into it a little bit!

[kaigarax]

Absolutely Bright

Geto Suguru x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone when they're soft and gentle."

“Would you die if someone told you to?” You asked, the back of your hand brushing up against Geto’s as the two of you continued onwards, the silence of night blaring loudly.

Geto looked at you, a frown pulling at his lips, ���what’s this about?”

“No, you wouldn’t. Right?”

“Well I don’t imagine anyone would simply just agree to dying.”

“Yeah,” you hum, “that’s what I thought.”

---

Geto Suguru has never been much of a drinker. Never saw a need to willingly put foul tasting liquid in his mouth just for the sake of losing all sense and all feelings of control.

You and Gojo, on the other hand, don’t seem to have quite the same sentiments. Willingly indulging in the foul tasting drinks as if you need it to survive. As if it’s a necessary task that needs to be completed in order to be a proper teenager. A task that neither of you seems to have too many qualms over.

Usually both you and Gojo are dragged back to school by Geto after a long night of him sitting in the back. Tonight though, it seems only you have gone beyond your typical limits as you stumble into him as he has his back pressed to the back of a wall.

“Geto.” You say, his name coming out slowly.

“Still alive, (L/n)?” Teases Geto.

You sigh, taking a seat against the wall beside him, “unfortunately.”

“Dying never really has been your forte, huh?”

You look up at him from your seat on the ground, “you don’t even know.”

Your eyes, despite being clouded over, seem to peer into his very soul. So bright and brilliant and swirling with gold. Almost like the very night sky.

Like Gojo you’d been blessed with eyes that see more than the normal person’s. And with eyes that see brilliantly come an appearance that is also brilliant. Geto can barely count the number of people that have been entranced by such eyes. He, himself, has always been rather immune to the beauty of eyes but always finds himself shocked at just how deeply you always seem to look at him. Almost as if you regarde him with a warmth and brilliance that he’s unaware he possesses.

Geto has to shake his head to pull himself from the grasp you’ve unknowingly placed around him.

You drop your head to your lap and sigh.

Geto reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silver lighter.

He doesn't actually smoke much, mostly carries it around for Shoko, but sometimes it helps to numb the bitterness in his mouth. More numb than it is badly tasting. Sounds like a brilliant idea as he drops down to take a seat beside you against the wall.

The white stick feels so brittle and fragile as he brings it up to his lips before lighting it up.

The sound of the lighter flicking seems to catch your attention as you look up at him overtop your arm.

“Those kill you, ya know.” You say.

You always tell Shoko the same thing whenever you see her smoke despite the fact that she never shows any sign that she plans to stop. Geto thinks that you mostly tell her now out of habit. That it’s not really something either of you think too much into and the thought is amusing. A sort of pattern that your friendship has fallen into.

Geto laughs, breathing in a drag, “I know.”

You bring a hand up to your uniform, pulling a few buttons loose before moving to pull your hair loose. You had put it up nicely earlier in the day but it seems that the heat has begun to get to you.

You always put a lot of effort into looking nice and presentable.

Geto thinks you look pretty with your hair loose.

Has to force himself to look away.

He holds the cigarette in his hand, staring at the red end of the blunt. It’s almost pretty as it slowly disappears - transforming into ash. Not pretty in the traditional sense but pretty in the way that broken glass is as it glitters in the sun. Something that’s only pretty when you’re in an intoxicated state of mind.

You move quicker than he thought you could as you snatch the cigarette from his hand.

Geto thinks that you’re going to throw it away so it surprises him when you bring it up to your own lips as you breathe in.

His heart flutters treacherously.

He can see the hint of a tattoo you have over your collar bone as your unbuttoned blouse folds over itself and hangs low, showing off the tanktop you wear underneath. He didn’t know you had gotten a tattoo though he isn’t all too surprised either. You always went out of your way to do small and subtle things to rebel as most teenagers did.

He can barely make out the word Absolutely in dark ink sprawled over your collarbone.

Your hair hangs loosely around your shoulders as you look up at him with those dazzling eyes. Geto thinks that he might be stuck here for an eternity, staring at you like this.

Then you break out into a cough.

Geto laughs, “first time?”

You pout, “don’t be mean.”

He pulls the cigarette from your grasp before dropping it to the ground and stepping it out.

“How do you and Shoko smoke that?” You asked, “it’s horrible.”

Geto shugs, “some people are just able to handle bad tasting things.”

“Ha,” you laugh, “bad tasting things,” as if it’s simply just another thing to say.

At one point in his life, Geto might’ve laughed too. Might’ve leaned down and brushed your hair back before kissing you on the lips. Might’ve even enjoyed the fluttering of his heart as you look up at him. But not all people are meant to stay the same - just as not all things are meant to stay exact.

“Do you have any siblings, Geto?” You ask suddenly.

“Hm?”

“I used to have an older brother and sister, you know.”

Geto looks at you gently, watching as you push back a loose strand of hair and turn to face him, “how did they ever put up with someone as annoying as you?” He knew that your father had quite a few kids but he had always been under the impression that you were the oldest. It was almost… surprising.

“I’ll have you know that I was an excellent younger sister.” You exclaim, “they love me.”

“I bet they do.”

“Well,” you look down, “at least they did.”

Geto’s heart pangs at the sad look you get. He feels guilty for something he’s had no control over. Almost feels as though the sadness you’re feeling is his own. Figures it’s probably time for you to head back as he turns around and kneels down, his back to you.

“What?” You ask.

“Get on.”

“Why?”

“I’m taking you back.”

You pout, “but I don’t wanna go back,” despite wrapping your arms around him.

Geto chuckles as he wraps his arms around your legs and props you up, “I think you’ve partied enough for one night.”

“Hm,” you grumbled as you rested your head on his back.

Geto slowly makes his way through the room before he finally spots Gojo. Gojo seems caught up in his own adventure at the moment - just barely making enough time to look up at Geto to smile and laugh.

Geto gestures to you before moving his head towards the door.

He doesn't really know if Gojo understands him or not but he doesn't wait too long to figure it out. Shoko’s still here and Geto can always come back and pick him up after dropping you off if things (Gojo) get too out of control.

It’s a lot quieter outside.

There’s less and less people as he makes his way back.

The cool night air has you leaning close to Geto for warmth.

The night skies are pretty. They’ve always been pretty but never something Geto actually thought much about. So far away and out of reach.

Geto hums gently to himself, the noises of night as his accompaniment.

Such a lovely world they’ve been born into. Even with curses and pain and suffering.

“Geto.” You say, your voice soft.

Geto’s humming abruptly stops as he feels you pull back slightly.

Was it bothering you? Did you find it annoying?

“You don’t like me very much, do you, Geto?” You asked.

Geto, whose arms are wrapped securely around you, laughs gently, “what makes you say that? I’m carrying you home in the middle of the night. I wouldn't do this for just anyone you know.”

“You’re only doing this because Satoru asked you to take care of me tonight.” You say, resting your head on his back.

Satoru.

You call him Satoru while he’s just Geto.

“I thought you were the one that didn’t like me.” Geto hums.

“Really?” You gasp dramatically, “what made you think that?”

“You never talk to me first.” Geto’s gentle voice is a contrast to your own intoxicated one, “always go out of your way to avoid partnering up with me and complain whenever it’s just the two of us assigned to a mission.”

“That’s because I’m embarrassed when I’m around you.”

“Are you now?” Teases Geto.

You nod, “of course. Everyone’s embarrassed when they talk to the person they like - like. And I, my good sir, happen to like - like you.”

Geto frowns, “you’re drunk, (L/n).”

“It doesn't matter anyway because you don’t like me.” You huff, “I’m just the transfer student in your eyes. Shoko’s an expert in reverse cursed energy while you and Satoru are the strongest. Poor ol’ me is left behind.”

“You’re not just the transfer student, (L/n).”

You will never be just the transfer student to him.

“You’re right. I’m also (L/n) to you. Next head of the (L/n) clan.”

Ah yes, the great (L/n) clan. Known for their cumulative abilities. Despite not being the eldest your father had determined that it would be you that would get to claim the great inheritance that is becoming the next leader. Unlike your siblings, you’d been born with the stars in your eyes; an ability only seen in your family once every few generations. So, after years of being trained and prepared by members of your Clan they shipped you off to Jujutsu School in hopes of giving you experience in the world before calling you back to fulfill your purpose.

Geto never really knew much, apart from what Satoru and Shoko had told him - and all their information had come from you.

He wonders what your father would think if he saw you now?

Well you were certainly getting your fair share of ‘worldly experiences’.

He feels a little guilty as the weight of your words sink in. He knows that you aren’t the closest with your father and your relationship is complicated. Well more complicated than normal families.

Geto’s frown deepens, “that’s not what I mean.”

“Then why’d you use my surname?” You pout, “you call Satoru and Shoko by their given names while I’m just (L/n).”

“Well I’m just Geto to you.” The sudden outburst is uncharacteristic of Geto. It has him suddenly halting his movements in surprise. He didn’t expect the words to come out so harshly. Didn’t think that he was capable of saying something so brash and cold.

And to you of all people.

An apology quickly forms in his mind but gets caught in his throat - as things usually do when it comes to you.

Your hold around him softens as you laugh, “Suguru.”

Your voice is so soft as you say his name. So warm and gentle. Geto isn’t certain he’s ever heard anyone say it in such a way before and it sends his heart racing. It feels so different from any other time he’s ever heard it from your lips. Or anyone else for the matter. Actually, Geto’s pretty certain this is the first time he’s ever heard you use his given name.

“(Y/n).” He says in response, slowly and calmly in hopes of masking the erratic beating of his ever treacherous heart.

“That’s not my name.” You say.

“It isn’t? But it’s what everyone calls you.”

“It’s my name but it’s not my real name. It’s what my mother wanted to call me but my father said otherwise.”

Geto laughs softly, “and what would you like me to call you?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I want to be your tomorrow.” You hum, nuzzling into the back of his neck, “I want to be all your tomorrows.”

Fall in love with someone when they’re soft and gentle.

[eggyboyoart]

ASTER, EDMOND AND OLIVINE and what drinks they prefer;

(RATED +18)

ASTER;

PINK DRINK DRINKER. My boy loves himself a cutesy little drink, especially when it has that swirling edible glitter.

I definitely think he drinks both socially and in private and probably has a private, highly-trained bartender employed and living at the manor.

If you pass him a sweet, fruity drink with some pretty rose petals on the top; he might just end up asking for a taste of something else..

“Awhh~ for mee? You really have to stop being so nice, or I’ll start to crave something a little sweeter~”

(TIP: add a few drops of your blood and he might not be able to contain himself.)

EDMOND;

Edmond is born of nobility so he is no stranger to drinking socially; though he almost always will opt for something non-alcoholic if the option is there.

As expected, he will always reach for the sweetest thing on the menu. Fruits, chocolate, sugar.. anything sweet enough will not escape his cravings.

So, when you hand him a sweet, fruity drink with sugar around the rim; alcoholic or not, he is most appreciative.

“hmm.. it could be sweeter but.. your generosity is most appreciated.. thank you.”

(TIP: if you wipe the sweet sugar off his lips with your thumb, he might just be tempted to taste it from your fingers.)

OLIVINE;

Ahh, our sweet busty priest. While the church doesn’t discourage drinking, Olivine will most likely opt out of any alcohol. Partially because he just doesn’t and also because his tolerance is insane.

He prefers drinks that are cozy, something with milk or cream is the best way to his heart.

Though, if you hand him something with some cream and alcohol in it; he becomes ‘a little clumsy’, which is strange – you thought he had a strong tolerance? Be careful; he might end up spilling it all over his chest.

“ahh.. it was so kind of you to make me that drink.. what a waste..”

(TIP: stick around and he might just ask for some help ‘cleaning up’)

[xxtc-96xx]

I think Pig is the only one who hasn't consumed something inedible unlike her glitter drinker da, her crown/paper eater aunt and her rock eater cousin. (nom? Sure but eat? Still no)

Unless u count that one time she seemingly devoured that one backroom monster but one could argue it just escaped after she ripped its arm.

yeah she hasn't devoured anything weird