#i have never drunk apple cider actually

[ninnosaurus]

The boys vs substances

HELL-O I've been seeing a bunch of stuff where the brothers smoke and drink so

I started thinking

So here's some more headcanons I have with the boys, nicotine and alcohol. Because I live in ✨Sweden✨ and the Funny Grass is illegal here, so I have no experience with it. 🤷🏻‍♀️

All boys have tried both nicotine and alcohol, of course. Even before getting help from April to get stuff, they ordered shit online.

They can get slightly buzzed, of course but they need ALOT to get actually y'know blasted hammered shit faced drunk, which is why it's rare for them to reach that point. This is due to well, their mutation. Because it gets ✨expensive✨.

They get a very slight rush of nicotine, but it doesn't really have any actual dangerous effects on them thanks to their mutation.

Raph likes beer, scotch and dry ciders. Preferbly, dry apple ciders. My guy will kill someone for anything apple flavored.

Mikey is a Smirnoff Ice kinda guy. He likes all of them, but his absolute favorites are "Mango" and "Pink Lemonade". He's also the shots kinda guy when he's really in a party mood.

Leo is 100% a cocktail man. Please, he loves cocktails of all kinds. Give him a daiquri and some strawberries and he's content with LIFE. Really loves piña coladas too.

Donnie is the wine guy. EXCEPT! Red wines. He tries to find a red wine he enjoys but to him, all of them tastes the same and is too dry. He's got white wines and rosés DOWN, though. April often ask him for advice <3. Is known to drink whiskey too, however. He and Raph online windowshop expensive whiskeys and scotches sometimes.

Raph is known to smoke ciggs from time to time on the topside. He likes going up there alone during rainy nights and sit under some plastic roof or tarp. The sound of rain hitting the plastic + the cigg makes him relax.

Mikey and Leo doesn't smoke. Never like the taste of it.

Donnie vapes. I'm sorry, but he does. Mostly because he can chew on them while thinking about something when working. Has a collection of flavors. (don't tell Leo I said this but despite not liking to smoke he stole one or two of Donnie's vapes)

TAGS WOHO: @redsrooftopprincess @the-cauldron-witch @thelaundrybitch @avery73 @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos Please let me know if I missed you :3

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 7/?

PART 1 , PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

TW: Su!cidal ideation

Finally some RadioApple aljsdlajls 

VERY SHORT but

RADIOAPPLE!!!!

I hope you guys like this.

IF THERE ARE ANY GRAMMAR ERRORS, FORGIVE ME.

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

It's about to rain.

Rain wasn't uncommon in Hell, but it wasn't that common either. It's mostly acid rain that comes down- another punishment from The Almighty. As if Falling wasn't enough. As if watching over his biggest failure wasn't enough.

It's beautiful to look at, though. Lucifer likes to think that the rain in hell is his Father's and siblings' tears. Sure helped him feel less lonely to delude himself that he is missed.

The Sin of Pride. He still doesn't get why he is that.

What other sin have I done other than love, Father?

Lucifer nurses a glass of apple Beelzejuice by his mouth. He's sitting on the counter of his personal mini-bar as he looks past the open balcony. A voice cuts through his thoughts.

Alastor: Looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon~

The king of hell didn't even bother to turn his head at the sudden appearance of the radio demon. Alastor didn't seem to take offense to being ignored, only moving around the bar to make his own drink.

Lucifer doesn't really drink but he likes to mix up stuff every now and then. The process makes him feel like he's back in Eden making-

He shakes his head. Nope, not gonna go there.

Alastor finishes making his drink- a whiskey on the rocks- and joins Lucifer in overlooking the skies.

Lucifer: I'm really tired, Alastor. I think I have been for a long time.

Lucifer downs the drink and brings up his infected hand. Alastor stays quiet beside him, emitting a low static.

Lucifer: You know, I didn't actually know if it wouldn't kill me. I just saw that dead demon pig and moved without thinking. Just one touch and maybe I would... 

A cold feeling upon his fingertips snaps him back. Alastor hands him a drink which makes him raise an eyebrow but he takes the drink nonetheless.

Lucifer: Cider?

Alastor: Apple~

Lucifer: What? You think these are drunken words?

Alastor: I think.. that you've had enough for tonight, my dear.

Lucifer: I had one glass.

Alastor: Of the Prince of Gluttony's strongest. 

Lucifer scoffs.

Lucifer: Touche. But I can't get drunk.

He says, earning a hum from Alastor.

Alastor: Drunk in your own demons. Ha!

Lucifer: Ugh. That was such a shit pun.

Alastor: Made you smile, have I not, my Majesty?

Huh. Will you look at that? Lucifer did have a small smile but Alastor was sporting that irritating grin of his so he didn't dignify him with an answer.

Quiet again.

Normally, Lucifer would awkwardly rant about this and that just to fill the suffocating silence. The first few hours after the fall - before the Sins and everything else- it was just silence. The only sound that could be heard in the vast darkness was his and Lilith's pained breathing.

After his Lily leaves, he punishes himself by isolation. Just him, alone. Like how it should have been. He damned humanity. He damned Lilith. Now, he damned his most precious daughter.

He thought he would never find peace in silence again.

That is, until a certain radio demon.

Lucifer would never admit it, but that first time they met- the banter, the singing, the one-upping- it was the most alive he felt in more than 10,000 years.

Sure, Alastor was a raging asshole that was using his daughter to piss him off and he wanted nothing more than to permanently kill the guy.

Oh, who was he kidding, the bastard still does that.

But... somehow, along the way, they became (dare he say) good friends. Recently, he feels like they transitioned into something more. The constant touches, the domestic moments in the kitchen, that kiss.

When he's with Alastor, he forgets why he even hated the silence.

He sees that Alastor didn't make another drink.

Lucifer: Drunk already?

Alastor smiles- one of his rare genuine smiles that Lucifer only sees when they are alone- and walks in front of him. The demon stands in between Lucifer's legs that were slightly swinging.

Alastor puts his hands on the counter, caging the king of hell on either side.

Their faces move on their own. Coming closer until their lips were barely touching.

Alastor: With your company? Always.

Then finally, their lips touch one another's. Lucifer never thought he's experience this kind of intimacy again after Lilith.

The kiss was slow, but deep- they could feel each other's passion. One of Lucifer's hands finds its way to Alastor's hair to pull him closer.

The moment couldn't be longer. Alastor pulls away first but places a hand on his king's waist.

Alastor: Don't stay away for too long in your venture, little apple.

He places a small kiss on Lucifer's hand. The smaller gives the other a teasing smile.

Lucifer: What? You'll miss me?

The overlord only smirks.

Alastor: Dearly.. my Lucifer~

With that Alastor left, leaving Lucifer with himself again. He stares at the Morningstar portrait, focusing on his daughter's smiling face.

He'll make this right.

Lucifer: For Charlie.

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

What to look forward for in Part 8:

Charlie and Lucifer will finally talk before he leaves.

[localplaguenurse]

Considering how many of us wants to headpat the reader from Gold as The Gingko Trees, how do you think Morax would react to his wife having secret admirers and do you think it’ll affect his mood if the reader chooses to keep the flowers around

I uh. I got carried away with this but to answer the question: I think he would be a little competitive for his wife's attention if he were to find out they have admirers. He'd also know that his wife is more than likely unaware of said admirers. They would confuse flirting with kindness and it wouldn't be until they were given a bouquet or something obviously romantic that they're like "oh no."

As for his wife keeping flowers, chances are they probably took them because they felt too awkward about giving the flowers back than anything, so in that case I don't think it would bother Morax. He knows what his wife is like and trusts them.

Anyways, I got carried away under the cut so enjoy~

Shopping alone was never ideal to you, especially after that run in with the thieves. It is why you only entered the harbour to grab necessities and why you would only stay on the main streets. You're not taking another chance down an alley again, not without your husband nearby.

Your favourite spot to shop is near the docks, where merchants sell their wares from foreign lands. You're particularly fond of the spices that come in from Sumeru, and the ciders from Mondstadt. By this point, you're on friendly terms with the merchants from each stand.

The Mondstadt merchant already has apple cider set aside just for you, and when you open your bag to pay, he stops you. "This one's on me today." You're surprised, and a little unsure of the gesture. After all, these are imported goods, surely this man cannot give product away just like that? You do not push it, though, and simply thank the man for the bottle.

After this, you pay the stall a visit each time you enter the harbour. He gives you discounts on his wares, or he throws in something small on the house, usually an ornament of sorts. You keep them in your room on your windowsill with some of your things from the monastery. When Li Lei finally arrives, the two of you go shopping, and out of habit, you visit the merchant you can almost say is your new friend. He offers you his discounts, cracking a few jokes that actually make you laugh.

Li Lei speaks up as you two are walking home. "Little one, I think he likes you."

The preposterous idea makes your face burn. The merchant? Having a crush on you? Not only is it odd he would be crushing on you of all people - a stammering, anxious pushover - but that would be unprofessional, would it not? He is merely providing customer service to one of his regulars. Of course he would be kind to them.

It's naturally one of the first amusing stories you tell Morax after his return home. You awkwardly laugh as you recount the tale. He chuckles as well, but something about the way he smiles through your story is... odd. You cannot pinpoint what it is, but he is oddly invested, asking you to tell him more about this merchant. What does he give you discounts on? How often does he do it? Oh, he sometimes gives you free gifts with each purchase? Please, why don't you show them to your husband?

When you show him the little collection of trinkets you have acquired, he doesn't really know what to say. He knows the significance of some of these items, as told by that disgraced drunk of an Archon next door, but he doesn't know if he should explain the romanti connotations of some of these gifts. You clearly have not picked up on the merchant's intentions, as seen by your openness about the subject and your wholesome demeanor.

Morax accompanies you into town one day, and he is the first to suggest heading to the docks.

The merchant is already looking your way when you make your way over, saying something about checking out another stall first. He's only a short distance away, so it's of no concern.

The banter is the same as it is any other day, though you are unaware of the way Morax watches you. As he suspected; you are completely oblivious to the man's attempts at flirting as he adds more and more to your bag for a ridiculously cheap price. You simply laugh along, and you ask if it is really okay to give out so much product.

"Of course, a lovely young woman like you deserves all of the pleasantries she is offered."

You open your mouth to respond, and are stunned into silence when presented with a fresh bouquet of flowers.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Your face burns at the realization that this man is flirting with you, and looking back, you realize he's been doing that the whole time. Your stomach sinks when you recall that you husband is only a few stalls away, and when you realize you have to explain to this man that oh, no, you're not into him this way, you're married. All of those free samples, those discounts... You're horrified at the idea that this man has possibly lost money because you were too stupid to clue in on the fact HE HAS BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU THE WHOLE TIME.

"Oh, what a lovely bouquet," a familiar deep voice remarks from behind you, "say, how much?"

The merchant looks up and sees Morax, or rather Zhongli, placing his hand on your shoulder. He looks at you, then at him, then back at you, and at the hand holding your coin purse. His eyes land on your ring, and you see it click together in his head.

"U-Uh..."

Morax produces his coin purse and pulls out a heft pile of mora. "Here, this should cover everything, including the flowers for my darling wife."

The merchant's heartbreak is muted by the shock. He doesn't say anything, and he hardly moves, only accepting the money and letting go of the flowers. Morax thanks him, and he hands you the flowers as the two of you make your way home.

"..."

"If you are worried I am upset," Morax states, "I am not. Not with you, at the very least."

"B-But..."

He sighs. "Really, I am surprised he did not notice your ring early on, or bother to ask if you were available to begin with."

You feel tears of embarrassment welling in your eyes. "I... I didn't know..."

Morax smiles, and he plucks a flower from the bouquet to tuck it behind your ear. "It is an unfortunate situation, but there is only so much you can do about these things."

It is of little comfort to you, but it is true. You just hope the merchant is not too heartbroken, and you hope he knows that while you do not return those feelings, you are at least grateful for the gestures.

At the very least, the flowers are very pretty.

[running-with-the-feels]

as a lover of drunk kuai liang i need those headcanons 🤲

mwahahahaha yeeeeeeeessssss

complete lightweight, his only advantage is his size but still, he's gonna have trouble walking very quickly

Favorite drink is a cider bc it tastes like juice and isn't too strong, he likes apple ciders best

Has stages of drunkenness that Johnny has dedicated many hours of research to categorizing (think of it like amy from b99)

Stage 1: Tipsy Statue, he's feeling the effects of the alcohol but refuses to let anyone realize that so he just stays as still and quiet as possible (forgets to blink too, which is the give away)

Stage 2: Loosey Goosey, very relaxed now, will laugh more easily and kinda forgets that he's trying to hide the fact that he's a little drunk. Also gets tactile, like he'll lean against ppl and his need for personal space is drastically reduced.

Stage 3: Koala Bear, all inhibitions thrown to the wind, becomes a total chatterbox, Will sit on someone's lap (usually Hanzo's) and can also be easily convinced to dance nightclub style, much to his horror in the morning

Stage 4: Bed Time, now struggling to walk and stay awake (bc too much alcohol makes him very sleepy) one of the defenders (again, usually Hanzo) is charged with taking him home and putting him to bed.

Kuai Liang once spent two whole hours at one of Johnny's parties sitting in Hanzo's lap, resting his head on the guy's shoulder and playing with his hands. Hanzo was oddly silent during the entire exchange (wonder why)

Johnny used to take videos of his drunken shenanigans (rare tho they might be) until Kuai Liang broke his phone and threatened his kneecaps. Johnny has since backed off.

Has only actually been convinced to dance nightclub style twice (both times by Johnny) and the only reason it hasn't happened more often is because dude rarely drinks.

Hanzo spent the entirety of both situations watching and trying desperately to fight back the urge to either a) drag him off the dance floor and away from Johnny bc Jealous or b) go up there and join him which no amount of alcohol can get him to do.

Chatty, drunk Kuai Liang is so chatty, he's fully just lost his brain to mouth filter so he will just Say Shit. Most of the time its either complimenting Hanzo, thanking Jax and Johnny for their friendship, or insulting Raiden.

He also gets giggly, like everything is funny and he can't stop laughing.

never gets hangovers (or if he does, no one can tell) and everyone is jealous.

Tho he isn't one to be easily embarrassed, he is always mortified that the defenders have seen him drunk after the fact, which is part of why he doesn't drink often. The other and main reason is bc he doesn't like having his faculties compromised

Did once wake up in Hanzo's bed after one of Johnny's parties, panic, and race out of the house shirtless (bc he couldn't find it and heard footsteps coming) only to be told that Hanzo had tried to take him to the Lin Kuei temple instead but Koala Bear Kuai Liang refused to let go of Hanzo for even a second and so eventually (bc he needed to sleep damnit) Hanzo just gave up and brought him back to the Shirai Ryu to sleep there.

"How did I end up shirtless then?" "You said it was, quote, 'too fucking hot in here,' ripped your shirt off, and then wraped around me like an octopus" "..........."

That's all I've got rn, but I can think of more, lemme know if y'all want em.

[mhagun]

Diluc general hcs…★!

characters :: you (duh) diluc (also, duh)

t/cw :: mentions of depression and nightmares. nothing too heavy tho

a/n :: uhh uhh hhh VAMP ANTHEM 🧛‍♂️🧛‍♀️ listened to 'watch me' while editing this bcos,,, BANGER ??

☆ i (we) heart the grumpy old adult !!

☆ absolute bear man. He’s warm and his clothes and hair are soft and he likes drinking hot stuff so his cheeks are always warm and he mostly smells like cinnamon and grapes and he tastes slightly sour because he’s always drinking hot apple cider (no, he does not drink coffee. I refuse to believe so.) Also, posture. He’s horrible when no one is around, esp when he’s stressed. He’s lowkey embarrassed by it, and immediately straightens his back once he realizes that you’re in the same room.

☆  and bcos of his aforementioned horrid posture, his spine hates him. Therefore…. 🎇back massages 🎇. You might as well have a professional license due to the skills you’ve picked up since he asks you to help him out.

☆ also, slight perv diluc ���????

☆ im not even kidding that man could stare at your ass for dayyyyyss. Makes you wait tables around Angel’s Share (unpaid btw) just so he can stare at butt while you walk around and rush to take orders and serve guests. Also, avid ass slapper. They’re typically not hard smack, unless he gets tipsy, because while he has never been outright drunk, he is constantly of that wine grind 💪 (but he gets rly upset at himself and avoid you for the rest of the day).

☆ likes to have his hair styled by you. It doesn’t matter if it’s elaborate and detailed or as simple as a fucked up braid, it’s the thought that counts <3. he does have a favorite hairstyle tho… the aforementioned braid ! specifically little tiny braids that intertwine with his regular ponytail. he thinks their cute :)

☆ pls make fun of him for having maids. PLEASE. he cannot do laundry omg, and he can barely cook !! just because he is a big beefy man that would hold you in his arms, does not mean he is the entire package !! get’s rly confused when you go to the kitchen to make your own food, like, he was genuinely shocked. likes to do laundry with you tho, he finds it relaxing and sometimes dozes of while folding the warm sheets, especially if he’s had a rough day/week. He just loves laundry in general. He loves how warm everything feels, he loves the smell of soap and linen, especially when it lingers on your skin so that he can smell it when he kisses your hand. 

☆ also, diluc is not 6ft?? don’t get me wrong he’s tall, but not 6ft tall. he’s more,,, 5’9-5’10, plus he’s kinda… thick??? like, he’s more heavyset than tall lean muscle. dw tho, man boobs are preserved, abs are preserved, biceps ykyk. He also was pretty thick hands, and warm palms :)

☆ alrighty YOU ALREADY KNOW WHAT TIME IT IZZZZZ:: diluc depression and nightmare segment -_-

☆ has nightmares pretty regularly actually. Most aren’t that bad, and he can usually go back to sleep relatively easily, but some nights he gets it bad. So bad, that it would wake you up and make you freak out. he doesn’t go back to sleep those nights, but after a while of holding him and rubbing his back while he sniffles into your shirt and drinks chamomile (i dont think he’d like peppermint), he’s usually pretty mellowed out.

☆ get’s rly upset sometimes, usually after a rough night of non stop work or nightmares. sometimes he will snap and yell at you over petty shit, but will always make it up to later. when he’s not screaming in incomprehensible frustration, he’s just uncomfortable and overstimulated and does know how to describe it. it’s the level of irritation a person with a stutter would exhibit when they are experiencing a word block (which, coming from a person w a stutter, is a hair pulling teary eyed level of anger i have to regularly suppress). all i can say is be patient. treat him like any other human and not a potential business partner he will literally die 4 you.

[never-not-ever]

When someone wakes up at 8am and went to bed at 8pm it's like hey, you got some good sleep! But when you sleep until 5pm but didn't go to bed til 5am it sounds like too much sleep and very bad for you!! That was me and it means I'm definitely into a pattern now and am probably going to be up until the early morning agan.

That being said I was up a couple times this morning. My Nana's cousin was supposed to come this morning to fix two doors in my apartment and someone from PACT was dropping off my weekly meds so I had to have my phone on and wasn't really in a deep sleep. The guy never came but the PACT person did come and said "the nurses just want to make sure you're coming Tuesday?". I'm supposed to have weekly sessions with my case manager/peer specialist but I've only seen her once since I got out 😐. She was sick once and then I had scheduling issues with the car I'm sharing with my Nana so appointments got pushed and canceled. Besides getting meds weekly and the nurse asking how I'm doing and I say "eh, okay", the PACT team doesn't really know how things actually are...

Anyways because I kept waking up I had SO many dreams and weird ones. I remember I was about to eat a steak sandwich and I had a piece and was like what are you doing you're vegetarian?!?.... Then a dream I was in a partial program at McLean and newer people that came from my old unit was saying the one of the patients who's still there said hi. Then I was organizing some weird tray of different glass cups and my old fav nurse who's now on overnights was telling me to stop touching it. Then I was like walking along the curb on Storrow Drive (?!?!?) with some other people from partial. Then one where her cousin actually showed up but he was drunk and a lot younger than what age my Nana said. Strange.

I got dinner with some friends last night and I was so anxious cause this was the first social thing I've done in well over a year! Even last summer I hardly saw them cause I was working so much. But one friend came up from NC for the weekend cause she's from here and she has some family things going on. Then there were 3 other friends (two are in a relationship), the 5 of us have a group chat that we talk a lot on. At first the dinner was going to be just us but then 2 other girls got invited and I was so tempted to cancel cause it started to feel overwhelming with so many people. I didn't want to cancel cause my friend from NC had a horrible morning so I ended up going and it wasn't that bad.

It's so weird that it's after 6pm and it feels/technically is like my day just started. The light coming in from the windows sort of looks like when the sun starts to rise so I can kind of trick my mind into thinking it's early morning 😂.

I need to go out in a little bit to pick up some groceries and while typing all this I got a whiff of apple cider 🧐 so I added hot apple cider to the list! I'm planning on making Pasta e Fagioli soup later. My Nana used to make it when I was growing up so I'm excited to try making it myself. I made lentil soup a couple weeks ago but it made a huge batch and I had soup for days plus soup in my freezer so I need to try to downsize this one.

[zhongrin]

Happy birthday Rin aaaaaa <33 I don't know you for long but in this short time you've always been nice to me and so friendly!! Also so sweet 💞💞 I really enjoy talking about our selfships with you!! And I really ship Meitham and Zhongrin - cuz of that I gifted ya 2 drabbles hehe <33 hope ya like them! Have a great day ahead and I hope you get everything you wished for! Hoping the next year's of yours will go smoothly and healthy!! ❤️

Now;; cuz of ya response from mawh ask - frfr like;; you always seem so nice on them <33 and then you even were an anon of me like fodhsndkdhjeke that was so cute doshwjkk 💞💞

Yes totally Rin hehe, do you play Obey me! too by any chance?

Dw Rin I give him enough kisses~

Just kidding. My heart belongs to Baizhu only. ❤️

Heh a bit too smitten even maybe fkebsiebnw (help it is?? I thought it's kinda annoying 🥹) LMAO RIN, so what day is it today?

*Zhongli standing in the distance with a proud smile on his face.* I think I can already explain it by myself hehe

Tbh I hate alcohol LMAO and my tolerance is pretty shit, I get drunk easily hehe oopsie (so Zhonglis alcohol tolerance is high?)

So ya don't have any children planned in your selfships?🤸💞 You already call him daddy - make him a real one Rin smh

OFC IT DOES RIN OFMG LIKE?? SITTING ON THE LAP OF SUCH A HANDSOME MAN?? RKDBSKIRBEJSIEHSBNSOFO BARKBARKWOOFWOOFAWOOGA I mean-

Awwww yes, do it again <33 and record it hehe

I once read that dogs can sense if someone is scared of them but idk if that's true but omfg;; your dog was so friendly then <333

I am sure the both of them will decide for you just right Rin, hehe <33 (help fkdhjsis but your selfships are so cute I can't dosbjsisns)

*dies* (it's great but kfmg omfg sidbsjjdbejs sometimes when Baizhu feels a bit chaotic he calls me "my future wife" and I and I and I lose it I really lose it I really lose it I really- *faints*)

Yes cuz of that I asked! Although you, ofc, can do your AU with your hubby's like they don't have a fanclub if ya want to 🥰

Alright alright no pressure <33 and omfg, my bestie would say 'Diluc' now, cuz she used to ship me with him and IDK WHY, but she enjoys it sm seeing Diluc as Baizhus competition

But if you would ask me, nawh. We don't have anyone who wants to destroy our relationship<33

aahhhhh thank you vi 💕 i enjoy talking about our selfships so much too!! you've been super friendly and welcoming and really indulging in my zhongrin and meitham selfship agenda, and i can't ever thank you enough!!!

truly a 'shared one braincell' moment 😭 i'm so amused bc it synced up so well like the same day i decided to haunt your inbox you decided to drop into mine THIS IS DESTINY I TELL YOU XD

i did actually! i used to! i love the lore and the characters but the game got too grindy for my taste and the lessons just got harder and harder and i got burnt out so i stopped playing oomph i think you probably can guess who i like lol-

yes yes (who said it's annoying??? i will kindly,.... persuade them to change their mind-) today is..... baivi day! i feel like terrorizing- i mean bullying- i mean lovingly indulge you with a very loving baizhu bot in the server <3

ok fine you win please carry me now-

SAME OMG VI WE CAN STICK TOGETHER AT PARTIES THEN literally i drank one small glass of apple cider one time and i got so sleepy i just crawled to bed and conked out. my family was so confused where i went (it was a new years party at home with the whole family kind of thing) (and yes, the dragon is a tank, the most he could get tipsy but never drunk drunk hlsdjfklsdf)

as of now not really! but perhaps one day with zhongli..... hehehe .......... yk what maybe i will. maybe i should start asking him to-

sitting on his lap, maybe with his hand on your thigh, or around your waist? either way you'll be pulled close onto his chest, his long hair slightly tickling your skin as baizhu's distinct scent along with some herbs surround you, making you feel right at home.... maybe even with his lips close to your ear, murmuring profound declarations of love? <3

i am so tempted to draw blushy!haitham now hsldkjflksdjf

she wassss i miss her ;w;

that they will hehe (I COULD SAY THE SAME ABOUT YOURS PLS)

*notes down in clipboard* uh huh uh huh continue ;)

that is true.... perhaps not on this teahouse!au but on a parallel universe mayhaps pantalone and zhongli are silently playing 4d chess trying to win my heart hsldkfjslkdf

omg you know what would be super funny. it's a third party scenario who wants to separate you but it's bc of wholesome reasons. imagine being kaveh's younger sister and wanting to romance al haitham. wheeze. kaveh would be like "WHY HIM PLEASE NO YOU CAN DO SO MUCH BETTER" lmao

love triangles are just a cute lil concept in fics bc omg??? two guys??? fighting over lil old me?? instant ego boost fr

diluc and baizhu huh... it's extra funny to me bc their elements don't match at all helphsldkfjsd

ah ok good good *quietly stashes vortex vanquisher back to its display*

[a-hughes22]

Ghosts and Glances

Pairing: Seamus Casey x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, social anxiety, mild language

Summary: It’s the weekend of Halloween and the last place Y/N wants to be is at a crowded college party. But when her best friend insists, she steps out of her comfort zone for one night. Y/N soon finds herself unexpectedly face-to-face with Seamus Casey, the charming guy she’s secretly admired all semester. As the night unfolds Y/N might just discover that some chances—and some people—are worth taking a risk for.

Word count: 1.7 k words

The neon lights in the dorm cast a surprising, cold blue glow across the crowded space. You didn’t come to parties; they just weren’t your thing. But somehow, your roommate and best friend Mia had convinced you.

Earlier this morning

“Come on, please, Y/N?” she begged at the dining table, giving you her best puppy-dog eyes over her coffee cup. “It’s gonna be a fun night. Plus, you need to, you know, live a little.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “But I am living,” you protested.

She pouted again. “Yeah, but you need to live some more. It’s not enough. Plus, you never know what you’re missing if you don’t go.”

You scoffed. “Super loud music, sticky floors, obnoxious drunk people, and the risk of getting my drink spiked? No thank you.”

She laughed. “Oh please. When you’re drunk enough those things won’t matter, I promise. And as long as you keep your drink with you at all times, you’ll be safe.”

You give her a small smile. “Whatever you say.”

She pretends to sigh. “God, you’re so serious. You need to loosen up a little before you turn into stone. You won’t regret going, and if you do, we can always head out. And” she begins, now smirking. “You’ll finally get a chance to talk to your man.”

You are left in shock. You stand there for a second with your mouth hanging open, and your cheeks turning a deep shade of red. “Mia, I swear to god I am going to kill you.”

“I’d love to see you try,” she teases.

“Plus, he doesn’t know I exist anyway. And he won’t want to talk to me. He’s way too cool and out of my league.”

“My god, Y/N. Don’t say that. You’re never gonna know if you don’t try. And you got nothing to worry about. You’re so smart and you have the biggest heart. And you’re really hot too.” She pretends to check you out.

You smile, but you’re still not convinced. “But I’m not really his type…”

“Sure, but you are unique and beautiful and unapologetically you. You stand out from the rest. Believe me, he’s missing out on a lot.”

You stop for a moment and think about it. Even though you didn’t go to parties, you did enjoy and spending time with Mia. And what was the harm in experiencing at least one college Halloween party?

“Okay, fine.” You had finally caved.

Mia threw her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “Yay! My little baby Y/N at her first ever Halloween party! Damn you’re growing up so fast.”

You roll your eyes again. “Shut up. But promise me we still get to leave if I’m not having fun.”

“Fine. But just so you know, I might not stick to my promise.”

“Fuck you, bitch.” You lightly push her off of you and the two of you head out the door for your Friday morning math class.

Now here you were, dressed up in your angel costume. You and Mia had matching costumes and of course she was dressed as a devil. You stood there nervously clutching your plastic cup, which was filled with a so-called poisoned apple cider. With how horrendous it tasted; you wouldn’t be surprised if it was filled with actual poison. You glanced to the other side of the room, where Mia was with a crowd of people doing Jello shots. Sadly, you proved yourself right, you weren’t enjoying yourself and you just wanted to go home. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like you’d be going home for another hour at least.

Your eyes continued to wander around the room, and that’s when you saw him.

Seamus Casey. He was dressed as a vampire.

It had started with passing glances in the hallway between classes. You’d lock eyes a couple of times but never exchange anything more than a small smile. Yet he was charming, always effortlessly at ease as he’d toss his books in his locker with that confident, slightly cocky grin that made your heart do backflips every time.

Tonight, he still looked so good, even if he wore a long black cape, fangs, and some fake blood. That boyish smile you’d come to know from a distance was still the same. Except now, he was much closer, and not surrounded by his usual group of friends.

Before you could dwell on it, Mia magically reappeared behind you, a mischievous grin plastered on her face.

“Boo,” she whispered in your ear as she placed her cold hands on your shoulders.

You jumped slightly, not expecting her to return.

“Holy shit, you scared me. Please never do that again.”

“No promises.” She moves so that she’s now beside you. “This is perfect. Seamus is here, and he’s alone. This is your only chance! This is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.”

“Mia, stop,” you protested, though the idea sounded tempting. “He doesn’t even know I exist.”

“Girl, please, just trust me, he does. I have literally seen you eye fuck each other a million times” Mia smirked, giving you a gentle nudge. “Go say hi!” She vanished again into the crowd.

Your heart pounded, but your best friend’s buzz of energy was contagious. With the power of Mia’s words and the alcohol you managed to forcefully swallow, you took a deep breath and stepped forward, closing the distance between you and your longtime crush.

At first, you thought maybe he hadn’t noticed you. But as you got closer, he turned, those bright brown eyes meeting yours. And for a second, it was only the two of you in this world.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and casual, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

You blinked, heart hammering. “Um… yeah. I’m Y/N by the way,” you say awkwardly.

He chuckled. “I know.”

So, he did know you existed, and he knew your name too.

“So, not a party person, huh?” Seamus asked, taking a sip from his drink. “I don’t usually come to these things either, but I figured it’d be good to mix it up.”

“Not really. My friend just really wanted me to come.” You smile and glance at Mia, who was now in the middle of the dance floor. “I find these things quite overwhelming.”

He smiled back and nodded in agreement, leaning in slightly. “Tell you what, if you need a change of scenery I’m down. There’s a coffee shop down the street that’s still open.”

Did he just ask you to leave with him?

You couldn’t help yourself as a grin spread across your face, your pulse racing as you nodded. “Let’s go.”

On your way out, you glanced back to find Mia once again, giving you the biggest grin as she mouthed an “I told you so”. You returned it with an even bigger grin and a silent “oh my god” before Seamus took your hand, pulling you gently out of the humid, dark room and out into the quiet, night air.

This night had already turned out to be better than you expected.

The chill of the night air wrapped around you, a refreshing contrast to the thick, heady atmosphere of the dorm party. As you and Seamus strolled toward the coffee shop you felt a thrill of disbelief. The guy you’d admired from afar all semester was here with you, holding your hand.

After a few minutes, Seamus finally broke the silence. "So, what do you usually do on Friday nights if not partying?"

"I’m a big fan of just spending time alone with a book or rewatching my favorite movies. Very boring, I know.”

"Nothing wrong with that," he replied, a grin spreading across his face.

“I’m honestly very surprised that parties aren’t your thing,” you say, smiling back.

He laughed, a warm, reassuring sound in the cool night. "What’s that supposed to mean?”

You pretended to stop think for a second. “I mean look at you. You play hockey. You have a shit ton of friends. What more can I say?”

He smiles again. “Did you just stereotype me?” he asks playfully, pretending to be offended. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I love my peace and quiet too.”

As you reached the coffee shop, Seamus held the door open for you, and the scent of roasted coffee beans washed over you. Inside, it was nearly empty- a cozy, dimly lit space with only a few people scattered around, wrapped up in their own quiet conversations. You settled into a booth by the window, and he slid in across from you.

“It’s so weird being here at midnight,” you begin. “And I didn’t think that people would still be drinking coffee right now!”

“Technically, it’s already morning,” he chuckled. “My teammates and I usually come here to sober up before morning skate.” He gives you a small wink.

For the next hour or so, you talked about everything from music tastes to your favorite places around campus. You found that he wasn’t as intimidating as you had thought; in fact, he was funny and quite down-to-earth. With time, the shyness melted away, replaced by an ease you hadn’t expected.

Finally, there was a pause, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you as he took the last sip of his coffee, looking at you thoughtfully. “You know,” he began, setting his empty cup down, “I’ve noticed you in the halls more times than I can count. I just didn’t know how to start a conversation without it being... weird.”

You blinked, surprised. “Really? I thought I was the only one.”

He laughed, reaching across the table to take your hand. “Well, looks like we’re both on the same page”.

As the night wore on, you felt the rush of excitement turn into a quiet, steady warmth. Mia was the one to thank for this. She was right-you did need to live more.

The night ended with the exchanging of phone numbers and a promise to see each other again. As you walked back to your dorm with a quiet smile on your face, you knew that tonight was a night you couldn’t forget.

[pazodetrasalba]

Beverages

Dear Caroline:

I found the list of your youthful beverages interesting -especially the part about you never drinking much water, which I find extremely weird when compared with my habits. I've drunk and drink a lot of stuff, but my personal devotion to cold water is unparalleled, and it is the only drink that can really quench my thirst.

Perhaps there is a cultural factor here. A text that comes to mind is a 16th century letter from a Spanish missionary in Japan to our King Philip II in which the writer expresses astonishment at the fact that the Japanese only drink boiled and warm water (which was actually an incredibly hygienic practice, even if germs hadn't been discovered yet...).

In the rural place I come from, children were mostly expected to drink water and milk; sodas in the eighties were a treat that wasn't to be had on a day-to-day basis, and the choices were rather limited, too. Consumption of small quantities of alcohol by children was quite common too - anisette, sweet quinine wine (it was actually marketed for kids!), apple cider and ponche, a type of eggnog that was supposed to cure colds.

In the pre-adolescent years I spent in a much more cosmopolitan UK I developed a taste for milk (which tends to be rather bland and tasteless in Spain; I could still gulp down pint after pint of the British versions if they were available), horlicks (malted milk) and for sugarless tea, with just a tiny cloud of milk in it. It's my main drinking vice (I usually drink between 3-4 mugs of the stuff a day. As for alcohol, I am practically a teetotaller). More recently, I have developed a taste for sweet drinks with a tinge of the sour/bitter like tonic water and homemade lemonade/lime juice/grapefruit juice. Last Spring, while I was taking a course in Oslo, I made the discovery of an incredibly toothsome soda-like concoction made from rhubarb.

Quote:

Water is the only drink for a wise man.

Henry David Thoreau

[whattfisausername]

Drink update 1: That cider tasted basically like apple juice and wine mixed together, and I love a glass of wine so good for me! Had some water after that and now I’m onto the margarita. Taste like the lime wedges you get in a pop at a restaurant. I don’t think I like it quite as much as the cider or the coco rum, which I’ve had before and really like, but it’s not bad. I’m also eating pizza.

I’ve never actually had a hangover before, though I have been drunk before, but I fully expect to have one tomorrow. But class doesn’t start till 3 and I can lie to my parents about getting shit done in the morning m.

As for how I’m feeling, I’m a bit bouncy but otherwise fine. I still have fully awareness of my surroundings. I’m also a bit tired but that might just be cause I’ve had a long day. Though literally now as I’m typing this my vision is getting a touch blurry, like if I’d been staring a screen too long. I can still see what I’m typing obviously.

For everyone who wishes they could drink away there sorrows tonight but can’t for whatever reason just know

I am getting shitfaced on your behalf

[bokettochild]

If you’re still taking requests: I read a headcanons where chocolate is native to Lorule and Hyrule has little to none, so what if Legend introduces hot chocolate to the boys? (He gets it from Ravio)

I am so weak for domestic Ravio and Legend, oh gosh!

This ended up only being the first half of your request, anon, but the second part is in the works! I just... felt that this would be a good ending for this part. Hate me later!

Ao3 for when I write Part 2

Part 2

Mr. Hero loves his apples.

It’s clear when he looks out the window to see the other boy standing beneath his trees, singing softly and carefully tending the tree in the orchard, a warm look in his eyes and none of the usual lines crossing his face. Mr. Hero told him once that he’d been tending the orchard since he was a small child, and that the apples there even have healing properties as a result of being tended so faithfully. There was a time when he doubted that, but he’d changed his mind the first time Mr. Hero had made him some cider.

Fruit was a rarity in Lorule, the trees withered and the plants died, and any sweet thing was turned bitter as their world crumbled. Ravio had never tasted an apple before coming to Hyrule, and the first time Mr. Hero had offered him one (the first morning they woke up in the same house) he’d strained his jaw in trying to eat it and had been utterly shocked by the taste.

He didn’t like how hard they were to chew, and the skin on the outside bothered him, so he politely declined the next time Mr. Hero offered him one of the apples he kept in a bowl on the kitchen table.

But then came a night when Mr. Hero had come trudging in through the door, soaked to the skin as thunder rumbled outside. Puddles dripped over the floor and wet leather squelched with every step as Mr. Hero trudged into the house.

Dark bags ringed Mr. Hero’s violet eyes, his rose-gold hair dripping with rainwater and speckled with blood and mud both, tunics drenched and sopping and not even the light cloak he wore doing a thing to protect him from the raging storm he had just emerged from.

“Mr. Hero!” Ravio’s eyes had darted up from one of the items he’d been repairing, worry flickering in their depths as he peered out from beneath his hood at the other boy. “You’re soaked!”

Mr. Hero hadn’t answered, only snorted in a way that might have been a sneeze, casting off his cloak as he did so and dropping it in a corner where Ravio quickly scurried to pick it up.

Honestly, it was a blessing to Mr. Hero that he’d come here! The house was an utter mess half of the time!

Boots squelched their way to the kitchen as Ravio wrung the dripping cloak out into a bucket he’d been using for moping earlier that evening, and he silently bemoaned the fact that there was yet again mud trailing across the floors he’d only just made clean again. He’d almost scolded his housemate, only to startle and jump at the sound of clattering from the cellar which was then followed by something of a ruckus in the kitchen.

Green eyes and dark hair had peered warily around the corner to find Mr. Hero seated at the kitchen table and pulling off his boots with an exhausted expression on his face. Puddles and mud dripped across the floor and towards the door leading down into the basement, but the boots were coming off and there wasn’t a mess of dishes spread across the floor or anything.

In fact, the only difference, besides the dirt, was a mug perched on the table and a kettle bubbling merrily over the kitchen fire, a sweet smell drifting through the air that made Ravio’s nose twitch and shiver with delight and curiosity both.

He hadn’t spoken as Mr. Hero had trod about the kitchen with wet socks and stumbling steps, gathering things from the shelves and measuring different sweet-smelling spices into a cup. But when the kettle had whistled and the smell in the air had been joined with the sound of bubbling sweet something, Ravio had caved.

“What are you doing, Mr. Hero?”

“Making cider.” Mr. Hero responded, voice weary and heavy as stiff fingers had mitted themselves with a spare dishtowel to remove the whistling appliance from the open flames and pour its contents into an earthen mug. Steaming golden liquid had poured from the iron kettle into the cup, and as violet eyes darted his way, a second mug was produced and similarly filled.

Ravio moved slowly around the doorframe into the kitchen, head cocked to one side as he watched Mr. Hero's nimble, yet stiff, fingers fly across the things spread across the counter, and before he knew it there was a warm mug being deposited into his hand as his housemate walked past him.

Surprise had sparked in his mind at the comforting warmth of the drink in his hands, and his eyes had trailed after the pink-haired hylian as Mr. Hero had stalked over to the fire, pulling down a monstrously bulky quilt from a shelf and curling up before the raging fire with his mug held tight in his trembling fingers.

Cautious, the bunny merchant hadn’t dared touch the contents of his cup; he’d been poisoned before, and while it smelled utterly delectable, he resisted until he saw Mr. Hero take a drink first. It’s not that he distrusted the other boy, but he knew better than to actually trust him yet. They were both relying on each other for something, depending on the other to provide what they needed to solve a mutual problem. Their relationship was as business partners, nothing more, and Ravio knew better than to trust most business folk.

But then he’d watched the shivers die as Mr. Hero nursed his cup slowly, eyes drooping further as they blinked sleepily, a soft squeaky yawn breaking the silence as the hylian had settled his empty mug on the carpet and promptly proceeded to doze off where he sat.

Ravio shook his head, setting down his own mug and gathering a few pillows from the couch to prop around the hero. It wouldn’t do to have the single person who could save the both of their countries running around with a crick in his neck and pains in his back, now would it? (Ravio hadn’t known at the time that that was just what Mr. Hero did on the regular, but he’d learned as much later and it made him doubly glad that he had done something).

With Mr. Hero soundly asleep, with not even the rumbling thunder outside doing anything to wake him, the merchant had turned his attention back to the sweet-smelling substance in the mug he’d been handed.

Something golden warm and almost clear sloshed in the earthenware mug, bits of spice and a stick of cinnamon clinking about inside as he swirled it around. It smelled delectable, like nothing he’d ever had the chance to smell before, and he’d hesitantly lifted it to his face to breath in the warm steam.

A sigh escaped him as the smell washed over him, and entirely on impulse, Ravio took a sip.

Sweet and savory nectar, tasting faintly of apple yet warm and smooth and entirely too delightful to be possible sparked across his tongue and made him start in surprise, before humming in pleasure and settling where he stood.

Never before, nor since, had he tasted anything so delectable as apple cider.

Mr. Hero came back time and again, dusted in snow or sodden and wet, or simply wounded and exhausted, and every time, his first priority was to stalk into the cellar, bustle in the kitchen, and emerge with a mug in either hand, one which he deposited in Ravio’s delighted fingers while the other was taken to where the veteran hero had settled beside the fire. Mr. Hero would sip on the sider, wrapped tight in a blanket and watching the flames, and would drift off entirely after finishing his mug.

Ravio would sigh and shake his head, setting aside his own partially finished drink in order to clean and bandage wounds and tuck the blanket tighter round his companion, making sure that Mr. Hero lay in a way that wouldn’t hurt his back, before returning to whatever he’d been doing, a mug of cider nestled in his grasp as he worked, a satisfied smile on his face.

But then there had come an evening where Mr. Hero had trudged through the door only to collapse in the entryway. Eyes rolling back as Ravio had squeaked in alarm, all but flying to his housemate’s side and struggling to pull the other boy upright again to help drag him to the couch.

Shivers and coughs broke the still silence as he’d bandaged a stab wound, and when Mr. Hero’s tired volet eyes had blinked awake again, Ravio was perched at his side with a worried frown playing over his face.

Mr. Hero couldn’t see it, but he was worried, terribly so.

Maybe it was the cider, maybe it was the house, maybe it was the light banter between the two, but he’d been coming to see his doppelganger as something a bit more than a business partner, and seeing the other boy lying weak and drained on the couch made his heart twist and clench with worry.

He’d had to all but force Mr. Hero to take a break, but had come to the horrid realization that the other boy was entirely incapable of actually making himself sleep.

“I have to be ready to move.” Mr. Hero had scowled across the room, eyes resting on the sword Ravio had leaned against the wall. “You can’t rest out there safely, and I can’t sleep anyways so what’s the use?”

Stubby fingers had fiddled with his scarf as he’d stared in shock and concern at his maybe-friend.

“But you always sleep fine when you’re here! It’s safe, you’re warm, what on earth could be keeping you awake?”

And violet eyes had avoided his own, shoulders rising as shuddering breaths had grown harsher, and Ravio found pity springing up where he never thought it would again as he stared at his housemate.

“I suf- I deal with insomnia. I can’t sleep most days. When I do sleep it’s...” Mr. Hero’s long fingers ran through his bedraggled pink hair in an irritated manner. “I have nightmares.” Mr. Hero’s voice dropped low and soft, barely above a whisper as he’d curled up on the couch. “And I don’t want to see those right now.”

“You need to relax. You’re sick.” Ravio had stated softly, worrying his lip between his teeth and watching Mr. Hero nod in acceptance. The other was clearly too tired to protest, and that was all the confirmation Ravio needed that he wasn’t doing so well. “How come you sleep well normally? When you’re here I mean?”

“Huh?”

“You come in, make that-” A warm shiver crept up his spine, delight blossoming inside at the mere thought. “-cider stuff, and then you fall asleep.”

“Oh.” Mr. Hero blinked slowly. “My Uncle used to make me cider to help me fall asleep. Neither of us knew anything about tea, but we would sleep best when we drank something warm first.” He shrugged. “It just helps me relax.”

Warm? Warm things helped Mr. Hero relax?

An idea sparked and Ravio jumped to his feet, chuckling nervously at the alarmed expression that his abrupt movement caused before he darted towards the kitchen. “Say right there! Don’t go anywhere.”

As he left the room, he heard a scoff and the rustling of the blanket. “What’s he think I’m gonna do, run back outside in the middle of the night? Tch.”

It had been a while since Ravio had made cocoa, especially when he’d learned to love cider more, but unfortunately (or tragically in his mind) he didn’t yet know how to make the cider itself and thus couldn’t make it for Mr. Hero. Fortunately, cocoa was also good, although not as good, and would serve perfectly well in the place of the fruity drink. After all, he mused to himself, cocoa was chocolate, and chocolate had caffeine, which, while caffeine was the love of his life and kept him awake, seemed to have the opposite effect on Mr. Hero.

They’d had tea once together when Ravio had been left some by a customer as a thank you, and Mr. Hero had been surprisingly calm for the rest of the evening before he had to leave the next morning.

Setting chocolate to melt and measuring out some milk into a saucepan was the easy part. Pacing up and down the kitchen and hoping Mr. Hero wasn’t getting impatient with him while the chocolate melted was the hard part. But it was a practiced process that was tried and true, and not even Hilda could resist his hot cocoa, so it was worth it in the end when he had two steaming and frothy mugs in hand and was headed back on his way into the living room, leaving Sheerow with full rights to cleaning up the rest of the chocolate he’d had left over.

Mr. Hero was still awake, unsurprisingly, considering his earlier revelation, and he cocked a brow at the sight of the mugs, a wary look on his face. “What is that?”

“Cocoa.” He chirruped in response, only to be met with a confounded expression on Mr. Hero’s thin face.

“Co- what?”

Ravio started to a halt, eyes blinking wide as he stared at his friend. “Have- have you... never had cocoa before, Mr. Hero? How is that possible! It’s wonderful!”

Soft violet eyes, nearly devoid of life or any emotion, stared back at him. “Ravio, I have traveled to all of seven countries and I’ve never even heard of it. What the heck are you on about?”

The merchant was bundling himself onto the couch at the hero’s side in mere moments, eyes sparkling with delight as he shoved a mug into Mr. Hero’s startled hands. “Oh, you’ve got to try it then, it’s-” Delightful, wonderous, nearly as good as cider but not quite- he wasn’t sure which word to settle on, but he didn’t really have the chance to choose, cutting off as he saw Mr. Hero’s nose shiver slightly, eyes growing wide as the hylian all but shoved his nose into the cup, sniffing appreciatively with a startled expression before taking a cautious sip.

The expression ‘stars in your eyes’ had never made sense before, but Mr. Hero’s twinkling lavender shades finally helped him to understand as the other boy had stared into his mug as if he’d just discovered the fabled sword of Lorule. Mr. Hero’s mouth opened, forming an ‘o’ shape before flapping slightly, only to eventually close again around a gulp of cocoa as he sat staring in astonishment at the drink in his hands.

Ravio giggled softly into his own mug, letting the froth on top tickle his lips as he watched his friend discover chocolate for the first time. “It’s not as good as cider but-”

“Are you kidding me? This is-” Mr. Hero sighed out, both hands wrapping around the mug as the hylian’s shoulder relaxed, his gaze slipping closed with another sip of the warm chocolate. “This is freaking heaven.”

Ravio would contest that, did, in fact, contest it repeatedly, but Mr. Hero argued back.

If Mr. Hero made cider, than Ravio would insist it was better than cocoa while Mr. Hero snorted that it didn’t even compare, meanwhile when Ravio made cocoa, Mr. Hero pointedly glared at him over the rim of his mug (never mind that chocolate clung to is face and upper lip) as he drank it slowly and pointedly. Ravio would scoff and again assert that cider was better, but the blissful expression on his friend’s face was something that was terribly hard to argue with.

Both demanded the others recipes, and both refused.

“You’ll never make cider if you can make cocoa.” Ravio had pouted, and Mr. Hero had grumbled that the same could be said of the cocoa, hence why he would never share his recipe.

But then their adventure was over, and in the middle of packing up his things to leave through the portal for the final time, Mr. Hero had grabbed his arm and dragged him down to the cellar.

Ravio had spluttered and huffed at his friend’s odd behavior, but then found himself sitting wide eyes as Mr. Hero explained how to properly prepare the apples and slowly, surely, Ravio realized what was happening.

Green eyes flicked up from the apple in Mr. Hero’s hands to stare at the face across from his; violet eyes downcast and weary, and face lined with care and hurt as it had been when they’d first met. He longed to reach out and smooth the frown lines, but it would only make Mr. Hero scowl if he rubbed juice onto his face.

Once he’d been shown how to start the cider, Mr. Hero dragged him upstairs and very pointedly lectured him on spice usage and proportions, all the while mixing up a batch of heavenly smelling nectar that made Ravio want to squeeze his friend in his arms and whisper a tearful than you.

But Mr. Hero’s face was still grim, and with every step it sunk in just why the forbidden recipe was finally being revealed to him.

He was going away. He was going away and never coming back, and Mr. Hero, the dear that he was, had decided to let him have the recipe he loved the best. Be it because Mr. Hero didn’t want to stop him from enjoying it, or maybe as a final expression of friendship, it felt...hollow.

Mr. Hero had just saved both their worlds, and now he was giving Ravio a special part of himself. He was sharing how his uncle had taught him to make cider, something important, intimate. Something that had been his and his alone to remember his uncle, or so he’d whispered on a lonely night ages ago when they were still getting to knw each other.

And Ravio, as always, was just taking it, with nothing given in return.

That simply wouldn’t do! Mr. Hero deserved something as a comfort, as a thank you! And... well, if I would help remind him of Ravio, than the merchant wouldn’t mind that either.

Hand’s full of mugs were halted as Ravio took both, earning a look of protest from his friend until he was leading Mr. Hero back into the kitchen. “You shared,” He explained with a light smile, one Mr. Hero could actually see now. “Now it’s my turn.”

That night, they curled up on the couch with mugs of cider and cocoa, silently enjoying their final night together.

In the morning, Mr. Hero loaded him up with apples and spice, and Ravio scoured his bags for every last trace of chocolate to stock the hero’s cupboards. Neither would last forever, something that niggled the backs of both of their minds, but both sought to drown the thought with checking over house and bags respectively one last time.

The goodbye was tearful, both from the princesses and Ravio himself as he flung himself into Mr. Hero’s arms, blubbering and sobbing in a right mess, but Mr. Hero only sighed, shoulders trembling slightly as he’d gently patted his back (arms tight enough around him that Ravio could hardly breathe) the softest of sniffles sounding from his friend as the hero let him cry out all his goodbyes on his shoulder.

That night, in the big, stately, but painfully lonely and uncluttered, kitchen of Lorule’s castle, Ravio made apple cider. It didn’t taste quite like Mr. Hero’s, a far cry indeed, but that may have just been the salt in it.

[tonytonwy]

It's 2am and I want to kiss you

iwaizumi x f!reader

summary: American frat parties aren't too bad with a hot guy.

You stumble on the balcony, letting your legs hang between the white pillars of the famous frat building. You let your drowsy head lean on the cool stone, taking a deep breath. 19 years into your life and you still couldn't control your alcohol. You take notice of the plastic yellow bucket and bottles of water in the corner and laugh, at least they were prepared this time. You feel your bra dig into your ribcage, your jeans tight against your stomach and you remember why you hate dressing up.

You also remember why you hate parties. Everyone is vomiting, your friends with their other friends and you're here, outside in the cold air. You feel a beep in your pocket and quickly check.

guyss he's taking me to his room, hope this dick is good aye.

You snort, and quickly type pls use protection, taking notice of the time; somehow 2:01 already. You loved your friends, you really did, but sometimes the relentless jealousy would rise up. They had boyfriends, girlfriends and experiences you never had. You wanted to have those stories, those stupid regrettable stories you would tell your kids one day.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know someone was here." You hear a nice voice behind you ask. You nod, looking at the night view of Birtwhistle University, small lights of thousands of building decorating the dark night. You decide to throw your wallowing pity away for another night. "You okay?"

"M' okay. Just letting the air hit my face a bit," you sigh deeply, the cool air going through your body. "Had one too many sohju shots."

"Ah, been there," his accent makes your eyes widen as you look back and see a familiar face, Iwaizumi, who lives in the same exchange building as you, actually right next to you. He was known, for being the quiet and incredibly hot exchange student basically. Iwaizumi is leaning on the doorframe, his eyes closed, enjoying the soft breeze, a glass bottle of apple cider in his hands. He's wearing a grey hoodie with matching shorts and a par of slides, you wish you had his comfort.

You've said 'hi' countless times as you pass each other in halls, libraries and classes and you even helped him with an English quiz but you've never actually fully spoken to him.

In your fantasies? Now that's a different story.

"Ah, Hajime? Oh sorry, Iwaizumi, right?" He gives a small smile and nods, you notice how his cheeks are flushed and you're glad you're not the only one a bit fucked tonight.

"Yeah, I'm used to being called Hajime though," you nod, wondering if you should use your Japanese class to it's potential.

"Feel free to sit," you pat the spot next to you. You quickly realize why you drink at parties, your shy exterior is peeled off to show someone who can be just as fun as her friends. You're not quiet, awkward or easily embarrassed when the alcohol runs through your body. You turn and see his eyes widen and the tip of his ears get pink. He nods and hesitantly sits next to you, his legs hanging next to yours and thighs touching. You can't help but peak at his muscular thighs, defined and tough muscle ripping through the soft grey fabric.

God, this man was built like a true Greek god.

You didn't really consider yourself someone openly horny, and perhaps it is due to the alcohol, but Iwaizumi is just about one of the hottest men you've seen in your life. Maybe it was his respectable energy, or his weird obsession with Godzilla-themed items. His arms definitely had something to do with it. You weren’t sure but the amount of times you were in the gym with him coincidentally there (5 so far) made you realize how badly you wanted to make out with Iwaizumi.

"You liking America?" He asks, his voice slightly slurring however still deep and rumbling through his throat.

"It's okay, it's not as bad as I thought it'd be. However, it’s only been two weeks so," your comment makes him laugh and it's fruity yet deep in his chest. You chuckle, the drunk honesty flowing through your veins. If he asked you, ‘y/n do you find me hot and if so, do you wanna kiss?’ you would wholeheartedly answer back ‘why yes Iwaizumi, I’ve been waiting to smash my lips against yours and to touch your arms at least once.'

“I have to agree with you, it’s not too bad with you here,” he laughs, clearly the cider starting to have it's delayed effect. You reminisce on his words, the back of your neck suddenly feeling very warm. The air feels drunk and maybe it’s in your alcohol-influenced head or your Iwaizumi-infected heart but maybe, just maybe, he could be flirty.

"You a heavy weight, Iwaizumi?” You ask, this may be the only time you actually talk with him so you plan to enjoy every second of it.

“Good question,” he slightly leans into you and you’re not sure if he’s a sleepy drunk or impossibly flirty, however it appears to be more the latter. “Yes, everyday.”

You try to not laugh as he completely misheard what you said but you honestly can't be bothered asking again.

"What's your favourite memory from childhood?" His head lays on your shoulder, you can feel his hair on your collarbone, it's almost ticklish as Iwaizumi hums a tune you can't quite figure out. He whips out his phone, and you can't see what he's doing before showing you a picture of him as a kid. He has a paper hat, a stick and he's on top of a man, you only assume it's his dad.

"I liked catching cicadas and freaking my mum out with it," you laugh as he says this because you realize that the photo has zero correlation with this story. You were getting to know him better, Iwaizumi wasn't just a simple hot guy built like Achilles. He was a boy who did goofy things, like terrorize his mother with bugs and use his dad as a horse for photos.

"Did you kill them?"

"Nah," you realize the song he's humming is 'Party in the U.S.A' by Miley Cyrus. "They have a short lifespan so I let them live."

"How noble," before you can ask another question, his drunk face stares at you, deep in thought over probably nothing.

"Why did you come to America?" You tilt your head, slightly confused over his question. His ears go slightly red as he looks away, eyes glued to the big trees. "I overheard you talking about how you should've gone to Japan instead of America."

You felt embarrassed, cheeks heating up more with his eyes on you, however you take a deep breath.

"Do you want the honest," you tip your drink with his to clink, "drunk truth?"

"Is there any better kind?" He clinks his drink with yours, smiling. God, he smelt good, the sweet cider bubbling through a soft cologne that reminds you of freshwater river weirdly enough.

"I got a scholarship, I entered on a whim and got accepted. Plus, my friends really wanted come here," you say, slight sadness running through your voice. Oh god, here comes the emotions. "I didn't want to be the party pooper to say no, so…”

"Here you are, with me," he says, almost breathless. His star-struck eyes stuck on yours and you realize, holy shit, you are talking to Iwaizumi Hajime. The guy you've been thirsting over for the past two weeks, the guy who helped you when your books dropped all over the floor. The guy who apparently just stares at you sometimes.

"Why don't you talk to him?" Your friend slightly nudges you, smirking.

"Are you kidding? He's too hot to approach," you sigh, walking past the lounge room where he's playing Mario Kart with some friends, clearly a life-or-death situation with how loud they are. You can't help but let a smile escape as you see Iwaizumi's toothy grin as he wins, lifting his muscular arms up in glory and triumph.

"Oh, come on, y/n," your other friend groans, "we keep telling you he just sometimes stares at you, as if he wants to talk to you."

"And I keep telling you that you're getting my hopes up for nothing!"

"Here I am, with you," you give a small smile. Perhaps coming to America wasn't such a bad idea. You lean back, ignoring how his eyes slightly ogle at your chest. Your hand is dangerously close to his much bigger hand. You try to hide the loud thump in your heart as Iwaizumi puts his hands on top of yours. You whip your eyes to his soft, olive green eyes, slowly sobering up with each enamored second he's with you.

Okay, this is happening. You thank whatever God that allowed you to have this moment. This experience of a lifetime, you can already imagine it.

"I cured cancer and diabetes!"

"Oh yeah? Well, I got to hold hands with Iwaizumi Hajime!"

"I can't believe I am talking to you," he says, suddenly laying on the floor, looking at the stars in disbelief, his hands hiding his sudden red face. You try to hide your disappointment as his warm sturdy hands are no longer on you. His hoodie slightly lifting, revealing a six-pack that you know you will never forget.

"What do you mean? I should be saying that to you" You say laughing, deciding to lay next him. The stars are slightly dimmed by the house's lights but still look mesmerizing. You wonder what good deed you did in your past life for this to happen, for a hot guy like Iwaizumi to approach you.

"I always found you interesting." You turn and give him a look of disbelief. He stammers, clearly seeing the error in his words.

"Interesting to look at?" You let out a laugh as his face reddens, he stubbornly groans.

"No, of course not. I just, liked looking at you."

"Iwaizumi," You laugh, his words making zero sense in your head, "What happened to the honest drunk truth?"

He huffs, almost like he's mad, cheeks still red.

"You would do anything for your friends, I could tell you were that type of person. You helped me with that stupid quiz even though I made you stay up until midnight to teach me stupid English. And you're so pretty," His rambling makes your stomach feel warm, your lips shake with how much he's noticed you. Your mouth is open in shock, you never thought anyone had noticed you, not in that way. Why would anyone notice you? You thought of yourself as plain, boring and awkward.

"My shitty friend from Japan told me to just get drunk and do it. But I really couldn't find the bravery to talk to you." Iwaizumi sits up and seems out of breath when he finishes. He's not looking at you, ears burning with embarrassment. God, he's shy and hot.

"Until now," you also sit up with him, eyes staring at him. You give a small smile and lay your hands on his, maybe this was the adrenaline feeling your friends were looking for when they did dumb things. This sudden boost of euphoria and excited nerves over a new experience, over a story for the future.

“Until now.” He gives a bashful smile, clearly expecting you to be disgusted with his 'drunk truth'. “And now I’m here.”

“You’re here, with me,” you say, both softly laughing. You feel Iwaizumi lay his head on your shoulder, however this time it feels heavier

"y/n?" His voice sounds so soothing, saying your name casually.

"Yeah?"

"I think I moved around too much and too fast," you know that face too well as Iwaizumi puts a hand to his mouth. "I'm gonna throw up," your eyes widen but you act on pure instinct and experience as bring the bucket just in time as he hurls. Your friends were messy drunks, not to say you didn't have your share of vomiting stories. You quickly turn to get a bottle of water.

"What happened to being a heavy weight?" You smile, rubbing his back, you can see how he frowns confused before widening his eyes.

"I meant," he chugs the water bottle, his frown slowing going away, "lifting heavy weights."

"Oh," you can't help but laugh as Iwaizumi gives you a soft smile before laughing with you.

You hear the loud knocks and groan loudly, your head heavy and legs glued to the bed. You somehow find the strength to walk to your door and open it.

You see Iwaizumi with a pair of glasses and two coffees. He's wearing sweatpants with the same hoodie from last night.

"I'm so sorry," you smile as you see his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "I am so sorry you had to watch me puke, clean my face and drop my sleeping corpse to my room."

You laugh while taking a coffee as Iwaizumi leans on your doorframe, to hungover to fully use his legs.

"Yeah, you owe me big time, heavy weight." He tilts his head, giving a small glare over his new nickname, small smile still escaping through.

"Coffee isn't enough?"

"Ha! You wish," you take a sip and give a sigh of relief as you feel the warm drink energize every joint, muscle and bone in your body. "I expect a Japanese tutor now, at least."

"Done deal, also," he nervously rubs his neck, "I've got tickets for King Kong versus Godzilla, if you wanna come."

You scrunch your face, giving a deep thought.

"Well, I'll go since it's obvious that King Kong will win," you try to not laugh as Iwaizumi lowers his glasses, glaring at you. You feel you can read his mind as he's probably trying to remember every counter argument he can think of.

"Never mind, forget I even asked."

Notes: Did i write the 'helping iwaizumi with english' drabble but then decided to expand on this instead?? yes???? do i love the idea that iwaizumi is a late bloomer?? yes.yes.yes

however, I feel this fic hasn't achieved it's true potential (anyone get that reference?) so I'll probably do some minor editing here and there:)) I do that with all my fics tehehehe

[capseycartwright]

35. Sharing traditions for the Christmasy prompt? :D

The Diaz family had no shortage of Christmas traditions. Eddie knew this, and he loved it – Christmas had always been the one time of year where it had felt like his failings as a son, as a father, had been swept aside, caught up in the excitement that was the weeks of build up to Christmas.

His mom’s family had long-since kept up the Swedish tradition of glögg, drinking it a million miles from their heritage in snowy Sweden, but the drink tasting as sweet, even if it was being drunk in Texas. His father would always buy a poinsettia, for their kitchen table, and they did Christmas Eve Mass at the Spanish church in El Paso his dad favoured, and they did Christmas Day mass at the church his mom used to go to as a child, the priest an elderly Irish man who’d somehow never lost his thick accent, even after decades in Texas. They’d set aside a Sunday evening, in the lead up to Christmas, and they’d bake cookies, as a family, cheery Christmas tunes playing in the background.

The point was – Eddie had lots of family Christmas traditions, and he’d created his own with Shannon, and now Christopher. Visiting Santa Claus at the Grove, for one – because Eddie would never forget the way Christopher’s eyes lit up like saucers, when he’d seen the enormous display of lights – and every Sunday, in December, they’d make hot chocolate and watch a Christmas movie. Buck was a part of that one – mainly because he had an astounding lack of knowledge when it came to classic Christmas cinema, and when Eddie discovered his new friend hadn’t ever seen The Santa Claus, that first year in LA, he’d taken it upon himself to educate Buck on all the Christmas movies of his own childhood.

But Buck didn’t have Christmas traditions. That had been a startling discovery. Eddie had been explaining what was actually in glögg, and why he was so excited to make it for his LA family, that night, and Buck’s brow had furrowed – not in confusion, no, but in sadness, as though he’d never experienced those kinds of ritualistic traditions during the holiday season.

(“I never liked Christmas, all that much,” Buck admitted. “It was always a really sad time, in our house – and I never understood why. Maddie tried – really, she did. She’d always buy me this box of candy canes, with her pocket money, and she’d hide one somewhere in the house every day, leading up to Christmas, and my challenge was to find them. But we – we never had Christmas traditions. Not like the ones your family has.”

Not for the first time, Eddie’s heart ached in his chest for the childhood Buck hadn’t experienced, and the childhood Maddie had given up in pursuit of trying to be a parent for her kid brother. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

“It’s okay,” Buck shrugged, and Eddie knew it really, really wasn’t – because it was written all over his boyfriend’s face. “I can just borrow some of yours.”)

That had been the day Eddie had started planning his surprise.

“Mm, something smells good, Diaz boys,” Buck called, the front door clicking shut as he arrived back. Maddie had taken him out shopping, that morning, and had kept him out a little longer than planned, at Eddie’s request.

“It’s mulled cider!” Christopher said, already giddy with glee – and too much sugar. Future Eddie was going to regret that one.

“It’s mulled apple juice,” Eddie corrected, winking at his boyfriend as Buck noticed the bottle of rum not-so-subtly stashed behind a bag of granola that had taken up temporary residence on their kitchen counter. If you couldn’t spike your own Christmas punch a few weeks before Christmas, when could you?

“Smells good,” Buck reiterated, peering into the pot simmering on the stove. “No hot chocolate today?”

“I thought we could do something new,” Eddie explained, gesturing to the kitchen table that was heaving with crafting supplies. “A new tradition – for all of us.”

Buck looked confused, looking between Eddie and Christopher, doing a great impression of a nodding dog.

“We’re going to make a calendar, for the 12 Days of Christmas!” Christopher explained, tugging on Buck’s hand. “Except we’re all going to write down something that we can do together,” he said, looking at Eddie for confirmation. “It can – it can be anything! Like, making cookies.”

“Or going ice-skating,” Eddie teased, wrapping an arm around Buck’s waist. “Anything. The only rule is that it’s got to be something that the three of us can do together.”

“That – that is a really good idea,” Buck breathed, and Eddie could hear the tremor in his voice, as he spoke.

“Chris, could you grab the speaker from the living room? We need some Christmas music,” Eddie asked, his son nodding and scuttling out of the kitchen like a kid on a mission. “You okay?” he prodded, twisting Buck so they were nose to nose.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Buck mumbled, looking overwhelmed.

“I know,” Eddie shrugged.

“I meant it, when I said I was happy to share in your traditions,” Buck continued, and God – Eddie wanted to fight every single person who ever made Buck feel as though he wasn’t important enough to bend over backwards for, to make new traditions for.

“I know,” Eddie repeated. “But I wanted us to have a new one – for the three of us. A tradition that we started for our family – you, me, Christopher, and whoever else might come along one day,” he said, smiling softly as he allowed himself to indulge in the image of pitter-pattering feet and tiny giggles.

“I love you,” Buck breathed, and even now, almost a year into their relationship, it was still the very best promise Buck had ever made him.

Eddie pressed a kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth, grinning. “I love you,” he said. “Now, let’s spike our apple juices before Christopher comes back.”

send me a christmassy prompt

[abraxos-and-ataraxia]

Crown of Ash and Blood

Chapter 7

Pairing: Eris x Original Character

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: mention of violence, little horny action (idk it’s pretty tame)

Summary: Eris is cool, calm, and collected.  He’s not known for the fire in his blood, but for his cold manipulation of truth and lies.  Until he meets his match.  Literally.

Masterlist

One evening, Eris arrived with an unexpected greeting, “Happy Solstice.”

Danae gaped at him.  “I’m sorry, you know how to be happy?”  When he bristled, she just grinned, snatching the package from his hands before he could snap at her.  “What’s this?”

“A drink.  Obviously I need one,” he grumbled, but she could’ve sworn his lip twitched up.  Just a bit.

“Is it fire whiskey?”  Danae ripped into the plain paper wrapping.  She’d never had it, but the younger males at camp wouldn’t shut up about the stuff, having tried some during the war.

“You can’t handle fire whiskey,” Eris informed her, moving to the fireplace, rather than their usual spot in the kitchen.  He tossed an extra log on the fire before relaxing into the armchair.  “It’s cider, you’ll like it.”

Danae spun, narrowing her eyes at the back of his head.  “And how do you know what I like?”

“You may have heard of it,” he said, using the tone that never failed to start one of their arguments.  “It’s called ‘the power of observation’.”

She made a face, knowing he couldn’t see it.  “Just pour me a glass of your mysterious drink,” she snapped, stomping over to thrust the bottle at him.  Eris smirked, summoning a pair of goblets for them.  When he handed one to her, Danae sniffed.  Apples?  She took a tentative sip, pleasantly surprised by its sweetness.

“You have a sweet tooth,” Eris informed her, then downed his glass.

Danae stared at him, sitting cautiously on the couch.  “Is this the plan?  Get me drunk for Solstice?”

“Correction: the plan is to get myself drunk.”

That didn’t sound like the same man who told her “drunkenness is voluntary madness” the one and only time she requested wine.  Needless to say, he hadn’t provided any.  Danae supposed it was possible he was feeling festive, but she doubted it.  After enough evenings spent battling Eris over chess, trading truths and insults alike, she’d come to understand him a bit better.  At least enough to recognize when something was amiss.  She wondered if the alcohol would make it easier to annoy him.

“Don’t tell me,” she said, leaning over the arm of the couch.  “Your secret lover—a stable hand, perhaps—has abandoned you, running off with one of your brothers.”

“No.”

“The wife of a lord, then.”

Eris finally cracked, the corner of his mouth lifting.  “No.  Though on one memorable occasion, the opposite happened.”

Danae’s mouth dropped open.  “You stole your brother’s lover?”  She supposed Eris was good-looking, if one was interested in perfectly sculpted features and otherworldly beauty.

“He had the nerve to cheat me at chess,” he said.

“You are the pettiest male I’ve ever met,” Danae huffed a laugh.  She gulped some more cider, tearing her gaze away from his sharp jawline.  “Tell me another.”

“I once left a female in the Middle because she threatened me with a fork,” he said.  Danae whipped a pillow in his direction.  He managed to block it without spilling his cider, she noted.  “You know the rules,” Eris reminded her.

“Technically, we never made any rules or agreements, this is all just,” she flapped her hand for emphasis.  “Unofficial.”

Eris lifted a brow, sipping calmly.  “If you don’t want another story,” he trailed off, letting her decide.

Danae growled, “Fine.  Once upon a time, I was born.  The end.”

“Tell me about your family.”

That gave her pause.  The words weren’t harsh, like she usually expected from Eris.  No, he actually sounded…encouraging?  The strangeness of it loosened her tongue a bit.  The cider helped too.  “Just my mother.  I never knew my father.  He was a stranger on Calanmai, or so she tells me.”

Eris leaned forward, goblet dangling from his hand.  “You’re a child of Calanmai?”

“It was during Amarantha’s reign, when she opened the borders between courts,” Danae explained, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.  “He was from Day.”

“That’s why you asked me to take you there,” Eris determined.

Danae grumbled into her goblet.  “I hate that you remember that.”

“I still can.  Winnow you to Day, I mean,” Eris said, stumbling over his words.  Frowning, Danae shook the bottle, finding it nearly empty.  How had he managed to drink so quickly?

“Right now?”  She doubted it.

Eris set his drink down on the low table between them.  “After our deal is complete, I won’t hold you prisoner.  You’ll be free to go anywhere you wish,” he promised.  She believed him.

Danae changed the subject before they delved too deep into her past.  She wondered if that was his true plan—get her drunk enough to spill all her secrets.  Perhaps he was stone-cold sober, and this was an interrogation.  She wouldn’t put it past Eris to master some sleight of hand for just this purpose.  “I didn’t even realize it was midsummer already.  Shouldn’t you be at some courtly celebration?  Why are you here?”

“Summer Solstice isn’t as big of a holiday here, considering this is the Autumn court,” he snarked.  “I already made an appearance.”

“And you’re here because?”

Eris drained the remainder of the cider into his glass, then magically made a new bottle appear.  “I found the idea of your company the least painful.”

Danae smirked at him.  “Wow, a compliment.  You’re in rare form.  Was someone mean to you tonight?”

He stiffened.  “I stand corrected,” Eris said coolly.  “You’re much more tolerable when silent.”

“And how will that work with our little deal?”  Danae leaned forward, eyes catching on his clenched jaw.

“I’m beginning to wonder if you have useful information left, or if we exhausted your memory weeks ago.”

“You should be grateful we don’t have a bargain, or you’d be forced to listen to every one of my childhood memories,” Danae said.  “Down to the smallest detail.  Then you’d really hate spending time with me.”

“I’m immensely grateful,” Eris said, looking anything but.  His fingers tightened around the goblet before making it vanish.  Abruptly, he stood from the chair, straightening his jacket.  “I’ll be back tomorrow.  If you don’t have anything else of worth, our deal will be off.”

Danae scrambled off the couch, watching as the unopened bottle of cider disappeared as well.  His face was back to its usual blankness.  She wondered what had tipped him over the edge, ending their game.  “Wait, I still owe you a truth tonight,” Danae said, breathless.  She wasn’t ready to be alone again.  Especially when he was striding to the door like he had that first night.

“I don’t care,” Eris snorted.  “There’s nothing else I want from you.”

She followed him, nearly stepping on his heels.  “Not even a daemati?  I didn’t think you’d forget about that.”

Eris paused before opening the door.  “I assumed it was a lie,” he said, keeping his back to her.

“It wasn’t,” Danae said, folding her arms across her chest.  Eris turned his head to regard her over one shoulder.  “I just knew better than to offer my best secret first.”

“Smart.”

“I learn from the best.”

Eris let go of the door, facing her fully.  “Are you going to share, or is this a stalemate?”

Danae lifted her chin, trying her best to look haughty and imperious.  She’d been watching Eris do it for weeks, so it wasn’t hard to replicate.  “I will if you escort me outside the cabin.”  When he blinked at her, confused, she elaborated, “Your rule.  I promised not to leave unless you were with me.”

Regret flashed across his face, there and gone in an instant.  “So you did.”  Eris snapped his fingers, summoning a heavy cloak and warm boots.  For a moment, she just blinked at him, not quite understanding.  “For you,” he said, shaking them in her direction.  “In case you haven’t realized, it’s not truly summer here.”

Danae shook out the cloak, surprised to find it was designed large enough to fit over her wings.  She was abruptly reminded of the casual way Eris had adjusted her other clothes when she asked.  She wondered if this was another instance of the power of observation.  That’s what he’d say if she asked.

Once she was properly attired, Eris gestured for her to follow.  “Come on, let’s take you outside,” Eris smirked, pulling the door open.

Danae grumbled, “What am I, a dog?”  But she followed him anyway.

* * * * *

What was he doing?  Eris hadn’t stopped to think since he fled the Forest House earlier that night.  He couldn’t even pinpoint what had driven him to the cabin.  His father had been his usual brand of cruel, though he’d been more tolerable after blood was spilled.  Dion was deep in his cups before the first song started, and Loren disappeared into the shadows soon after that.  Only Castor had stuck around to make Eris miserable.  His brother had been keeping a close eye on him since his last “failure”.  Beron had surely offered up a reward to the next brother who could reveal one of Eris’ secrets.  That thought kept Eris in his seat for hours, wary of who might notice his absence if he left.  Concerned that someone would follow him to the cabin.  Eris was always worried about what information might reach Beron, but somehow, he’d winnowed to the Cauldron-damned female without thinking at all.

Now he was summoning cloaks and mending them like some doting nursemaid.  He cursed the damned bond in his chest, a bond that had only grown stronger with every minute he was forced to bear her presence.  Cauldron damn him again for making that stupid deal.  She wasn’t even a useful informant.  He could’ve gotten all of her information elsewhere without needing to house and feed a helpless female.

Eris pointedly ignored the voice that corrected—his helpless female.

She wasn’t even helpless, he admitted, refusing to look at the female in question.  If they hadn’t made a deal, she would probably be killing her way across Prythian with some silverware.  Instead, Danae was honoring the terms of their agreement.  He had to admit his shock that she’d listened to him, considering her blatant disregard for danger.  He ignored the voice that wondered if she would like following other orders.

“What are celebrations like in Illyria?”  Eris needed a distraction.

“That’s the truth you want?  Not the daemati?”

“Later,” Eris said, dismissing the potential pawn in favor of finding an excuse to come back to the cabin again.  He refused to look at that logic too closely.  “I’ll tell you about the festivities in Autumn,” he found himself offering.  An exchange.  Always a balance with them.  That bond hummed, equals.  Eris wanted to rip the tether from its moorings.

“It’s pretty shit,” she chuckled.  Danae turned her face up to the sky, moonlight edging her features in silver.  “Summer is the only nice time of year, so everyone’s outside before it starts snowing again.  Just drinking and fucking, not much ceremony.”

“Sounds lovely,” he said dryly.

“As if Autumn does any better,” she teased, a nudge for more information.

“No fucking,” he said.  “Plenty of drink, a bit of ceremony.  It’s mostly an excuse for my father to gather his lords and execute a few, if he’s in the mood.”

Danae whipped her head to look at him.  “Is that what happened tonight?”

“A few rolling heads is nothing new at court,” Eris said.  “Tonight, it was a lady who was sending aid to Spring, to help them rebuild.  Her lord husband was complicit.  They had relatives there, evidently.”

“He killed them for trying to help others?”

“They weren’t from Autumn.  We help our own first, to the exclusion of all others,” Eris parroted his father’s words.  They were bitter on his tongue.  It had been a while since Beron had the opportunity to exact punishment on someone other than his family.  A part of Eris was thrilled with the reprieve.  He turned away from the feeling, only to be confronted by all the other roiling emotions this female drew from him.  She was like some kind of poison, a truth-serum he couldn’t resist, but also one he didn’t want to stay away from.  As always, words rose to his lips unbidden, “My father is a very kind and understanding male, as you can tell.”

Danae’s eyes were softer than usual, not that he had been paying attention.  Eris made a point to ignore their hazel depths when they played chess, not wanting to memorize the blur of color.  “I think we need more cider for this,” she said, smiling crookedly.

He summoned a bottle for each of them, making Danae laugh.  Eris ignored that, too, popping the cork and taking a healthy swig.  He knew better than to indulge.  He knew the risk of alcohol loosening his tongue, spilling his secrets at Danae’s feet.  He didn’t trust her not to pry.  It’s what he would do.  Wasn’t that what he was currently doing?  Hoping she’d share something that made him feel like the less vulnerable one for once?

“I don’t want to go to Day,” Danae said, breaking the silence.  Eris stayed quiet, letting her continue at her own pace.  The best confessions weren’t forced.  “I want to go back for my mother.”

Eris could read enough into that statement alone to answer a dozen questions.  The female had no doubt been clipped, was trapped in the Night Court, in a shithole camp filled with the males Danae had escaped.  Eris had left them alive that day, but he couldn’t say what Rhysand had done with them.  He wondered if the prick had been careless enough to let the males return.  From the look on her face, Danae had already considered all the outcomes.

He wasn’t a fool, and neither was Danae.  They both knew what hellish torment had likely fallen upon her mother in some twisted form of retaliation.  The daughter had fled, but the mother would not.  Could not.  Without wings, was there any chance of outrunning trained warriors?  That’s why Danae planned to return, he realized, inhaling sharply.  Eris couldn’t fault her loyalty, not when he’d be foolish enough to do the same in her shoes.

Eris cast a brief thought towards his own mother, the risks he’d taken and would continue to bear for her.  She never had wings, but she’d been clipped all the same, hadn’t she?

Looking over at Danae, he found her lost in thought.  Her eyes were fixed on the treetops, wings rustling.  “What do you love, Eris?”  The question caught him off guard.  Danae didn’t give him a chance to escape, turning that piercing gaze on him with the force of a spear to the chest.

“Trying to woo me already?”  His heart pounded.

“There must be something more to you than derision and suffering,” she said, ignoring his taunt.  “What kind of male lets his father torture him and others?”

“I don’t let him do anything,” Eris sneered.  “Do you let your High Lord ignore his people in favor of starting wars?  I hardly think you’re one to cast judgments.”

“Perhaps you’re too weak-willed to stand up for anything, even yourself,” Danae curled her lip, her expression as cutting as his own.  “Was I right, calling you a coward?  Or are you as cruel as your father?”

Eris’ blood roared, bottle dangling forgotten in his fingers.  He didn’t stop to think that the alcohol was lowering his inhibitions, letting him say things he otherwise wouldn’t.  “Bold words from a female who left her mother behind to suffer in her stead.”  He regretted the words the instant they left his lips, long before her palm collided with his cheek.  Eris rocked back on his heels from the force of the blow.

“Say that again,” she dared him.  Her fury set her eyes ablaze in a wash of gold.  But unlike Danae’s usual brand of anger, this was crafted of such an impenetrable cold, Eris hardly recognized her.

For a moment, he could only marvel at the creature before him.  He knew he should be apologizing or backing away out of self defense, but Cauldron, she was beautiful.  Anger turned most people into monstrous versions of themselves, but somehow it only served to sharpen Danae, making her edges that much more wicked.  Damn it all, he was hardening in his pants.  He had better control than this, what was wrong with him?

“I’m sorry,” Eris rasped, digging his fingers into one thigh as a fresh distraction.  The pinpricks of pain managed to clear his head a fraction.  Guilt tore at him, shredding his defenses.

“Why?  It’s true,” Danae hissed, baring her teeth at him.  They gleamed in the moonlight.  Eris dug his fingers in deeper.

He shouldn’t want her, especially not like this.  Eris told himself it was the drink, nothing more.  He’d been alone for decades, perhaps a century now.  It was just the alcohol.  He regulated his breathing, maintaining composure on the surface, praying his scent hadn’t changed enough for Danae to notice.  Or at least hoping she didn’t know what it meant.  He reached for something to keep her attention away from him.  She’d asked what he loved.  “My mother,” Eris tore the words from his throat, forcing the admission into the open.  “I love my mother.”  It left him shaking a bit, fear dissolving whatever desire remained.  But he knew he was on shaky ground.  Danae was a landslide to his carefully constructed walls.

The words had the desired effect, bringing a little light back into Danae’s eyes.  They changed, transforming from cold and deadly back to their usual hazel.  “What else,” she demanded, voice still edged with winter.

“My hounds.  The fastest in all of Prythian,” Eris said, pride swelling past the dirty snarl of emotions in his chest.  “I have twelve.”

“Twelve?”  Shock colored her tone.  Danae took a step back, looking less murderous than before.

“Fret not, I’m not cruel to them,” Eris said, bitterness seeping in.

“I didn’t say you were,” Danae said.  He simply lifted a brow.  She had just implied that he was as bad as Beron.  Danae flushed a bit, but didn’t apologize.  He shrugged it off—he’d heard it plenty of times before.  “I just…twelve dogs?  Where do you keep them?”

“Perhaps one day you’ll earn a visit.”

Danae sputtered, “Earn?”

“You’ll have to be very, very good,” Eris drawled, lifting the bottle back to his lips.  Damn the consequences.  It couldn’t possibly get him into any more trouble with her.  But when she turned, ignoring him in favor of looking back up at the night sky, he found his eyes drifting over her.  Perhaps he would find himself in trouble regardless.

* * * * *

They stayed outside until Danae began shivering, even with cider warming her belly.  She knew better than to ask about flying, sure that Eris would tell her no.  Someone might see you, he would say.  Never mind the fact that the cabin was in the middle of nowhere.

Eventually, they moved back to the fire, still trading memories.  For every fact about her childhood, Eris revealed something about his own.  He was stingy with information, refusing to say anything about his brothers, and he was almost as tight-lipped about his mother.  Danae complained—loudly—about the inequality.  She refused to share anything else until he told her something interesting.

Danae sprawled across the couch, cradling her bottle in petulant silence.  Eris sat in the armchair again, his eyes like warm honey after all the alcohol.  She was so used to them being cold, unfeeling things, she could hardly stand to meet his gaze.

She didn’t regret hitting him.  But now her palm was hot.  Danae kept her eyes on his chest instead of his face, inspecting every detail of his elegant attire.  She’d come to dismiss the princely outfits, just another aspect of Eris’ high and mighty appearance.  But tonight she let herself look.  He wore a cream shirt and pants, everything tailored perfectly to his body.  It meant she had a good idea of the form beneath the clothes.  He was long and lean, but muscle lurked under the burgundy vest and jacket.  He walked too smoothly for a limp wristed courtier.  No, Eris walked like he knew how to use the hidden daggers tucked up his sleeves.  Gold buttons winked in the firelight, drawing her gaze down his chest.  Danae pursed her lips, looking away again.  She wasn’t interested in how tight his trousers were.

“See something you like?”  The question snapped her out of whatever spell his tight pants had woven over her.

“Just counting your daggers tonight,” she said, fighting to keep her tone even.

Eris frowned.  “How many?”

Danae used the opportunity to look him over again.  She tried not to linger anywhere, like his shoulders, but he filled out his jacket so nicely.  “Three.”

Eris looked down at himself, his frown deepening.  “Damn,” he muttered, obviously disappointed.

“I like you better when you drink,” Danae said, chuckling.  It was baffling to see him display so much emotion in one night, as opposed to his usual frozen mask.  She was lucky if she managed to catch disgust and irritation on the same night.  “Or maybe I just like you better when I drink.”

“But you do like me.”  Eris was wearing such a smug smile, she had to bite back.

“I’d like you better if you weren’t such an arrogant asshole,” Danae crooned.

Then that scent again, some spice she couldn’t name.  Her nose flared, eyes flicking back to Eris.  She sensed it when she hit him, but Eris always had such a tight leash on his emotions, she’d never detected anything before.  Danae puzzled over it until she realized his eyes were fixed on her mouth.

She blinked.  Was he…aroused?  “Is that why you came here tonight?  To get me drunk enough to go along with some fantasy of yours?”

He lifted a brow, smirking lightly.  “I don’t need to rely on drink to make females pliable.  And no, that’s not why I came tonight.”  Eris leaned back in the armchair, legs spread comfortably.  He watched her with half-lidded eyes, tongue flicking out to catch a drop of wine on his lip.

She glared at him, shocked when the spicy flavor in the air intensified.  Best to nip this in the bud, or he’d be just as nauseating as the males from home.  “I’m never going to suck your cock.”

Eris’ smile was wolfish.  “Never is a very strong word.”

“So is the word ‘no’,” Danae smiled back.  “I will cut off your favorite bits and feed them to your hounds if you ever lay a hand on me.”

“If I ever touch you without permission, I’ll let you,” Eris said, unruffled.  Then his smile widened.  “You have a very dirty vocabulary.”

“I heard plenty of foul language growing up as an Illyrian daughter out of wedlock.  Cock is hardly the worst thing I could say.”

“If I ask nicely, will you tell me other things?” Eris purred.

Danae did her best to compose a vulgar threat and paired it with a rude gesture to ensure he got the message.  Eris merely threw his head back, laughing without restraint.  The unfamiliar sound threw her off.  It felt like the world was tipping off its axis.  He was drunk, she told herself.  This was still Eris, the same male who’d dumped her in the Middle without a care.  The male who flung flaming bullshit at her on a daily basis.  The male who only wanted her for valuable information, and then he’d be wiping his hands of her.  He barely tolerated her when sober, so she couldn’t take him seriously now.

“Perhaps you’d prefer it if I was the one whispering filth,” he chuckled.  Eris lifted the bottle to his lips, throat working around a swallow.

She scrambled for a retort, “Wouldn’t be much of a difference, you’re always spewing garbage.”

“Just because it’s not something you like to hear doesn’t make it garbage,” he said.

Danae found herself watching him again, eyes locked on his throat.  She told herself it was because of her desire to choke him to death.  Not because she could see his heartbeat, that little vein throbbing faster than usual.  Almost as fast as her own.

“Tell me, Danae,” Eris said, in a voice she’d never heard from him.  He sounded like smoke and shadow, the words sliding over her skin, lower.  He said her name like a curse, like some kind of vicious prayer.  Her mouth went dry.  “What do you like to hear?”

Her breathing was shaky, and Danae knew he could tell.  Eris watched her, his pupils slowly drowning the molten amber in his eyes.  His gaze dropped to her racing pulse, the way she swallowed hard.  She could practically feel the drag of his stare down to her toes and back.

Eris leaned forward, elbows on knees, to place his bottle on the table.  He licked his lips again, and she wanted to run, but she was frozen in place.  She didn’t know what to say, what to do, or even where to look.  All she knew was the warmth growing in her veins, settling deep in her belly.  She didn’t even know why.  Danae liked taunting Eris, liked pulling emotions from him, pushing his buttons to see how he’d react.  She didn’t want him.  She didn’t.  Of course not.

Danae almost clenched her legs together in defiance of the growing heat there.  But she couldn’t bear it if Eris saw.  Then there would be no more doubt, no more teasing.  Would she even have a say?  Once he knew, wouldn’t it be just like before?

When Eris’ paused, nostrils flaring, her stomach dropped to her toes, breath stuttering to a halt.  Danae leapt off the couch, cider spilling across the floor, the table, everywhere.  She backed away, keeping her eyes on him to ensure he didn’t move, didn’t follow her.  Her lungs burned, but she finally reached the bedroom door, fingers scrabbling over the surface to unlatch it.  Eris sat still, so still she wondered if he’d stopped breathing as well.  But he didn’t move a muscle.

Danae slammed the door shut, both on him and the memories that came rushing to the surface.  She fell into bed—limbs so tense they trembled—and watched the door for hours.

* * * * *

Sleep eluded her until the sky began to lighten, but even then, Danae only managed to find a few hours of rest.  Nightmares dragged her back to wakefulness quick enough.

With a shaky sigh, she untangled herself from the sheets.  Her cheeks burned when she remembered the horrors of the night before.  She’d never drink again.  Danae could only hope that Eris would forget most of it.  Or that he’d be chivalrous enough not to mention the more embarrassing elements.  She snorted, because when had Eris ever been chivalrous?  Perhaps to advance a joke.

She had no interest in becoming his next source of amusement.

The door swung open quietly, and Danae crept outside, prepared to face the mess she’d made of the living room.  But instead of finding puddles of cider on the floor, she found the candles burned to stubs and Eris lying on the couch rubbing sleep from his eyes.

They blinked at each other for what felt like centuries.  Then Eris suddenly sat up straight, setting a book aside.  She saw a few others piled up under the table.  “Good morning,” he blurted.

Danae snorted.  Someone had drilled manners into Eris very thoroughly, she mused.  Then she really looked at him.  Her tension dissipated so thoroughly that she soon found herself laughing.  She’d never seen Eris so…rumpled.  His jacket was slung over the armchair, his boots discarded beside the couch.  His hair was pulled back into a half-hearted bun, tendrils escaping over his ears.  Purple shadows were smudged beneath his eyes, evidence of fatigue that mirrored her own.

“Hangover?”  Danae grinned at him, her embarrassment mostly forgotten.

To her immense amusement, Eris’ cheeks pinkened, along with the tips of his ears.  “I couldn’t return home in such a state,” he mumbled, standing abruptly.  “My father would be displeased.”  And wasn’t that a sobering thought.  Danae avoided sleep to keep her nightmares at bay, but Eris still had to live with his.

He rounded the couch on stockinged feet, nearly making her smile again.  It was so odd to see Eris like this.  He seemed less princely and perfect, though he wasn’t any less pretty.  She shook off the thought.

“I should have asked to stay,” Eris said, clearing his throat.

“It’s your cabin,” she remarked.

His mouth twisted.  “I still should have asked.  If it happens again, I will.”  Some part of Danae finally took a breath at the words.  Manners, indeed.

She nodded to the kitchen.  “Food?”

Eris grunted, stalking towards the table.  To her immense surprise, he pulled out a chair for her.  Danae sat down carefully, watching him settle in across from her.  He summoned tea, warm pastries, breakfast meats, and a bowl of fruit.  Better than her usual breakfasts at the cabin.  Better than anything in Illyria, for certain.

He waited until she’d tucked away a good portion of food before saying, “I sleep like shit, too.”

Danae inspected his face again, remembering the books and the candle stubs.  “From what I can tell, you don’t sleep at all.”

“Exactly,” Eris said.  His expression tightened, eyes suddenly far away.  She wondered if that’s what was in store for her—centuries of sleeplessness over the cruelty in her past.  “Fewer nightmares that way.”

* * * * *

Previous • Next

[4dtk]

Saw your post but Gojo Bday fic 🖤😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏 “You’re so in for it when we get home.”

hehe thank you for requesting!! a day late but it’s ok. i got carried away...

warnings: sorta fwb!gojo, dom!gojo, sub!afab!reader, sex under the influence (reader drinks alcohol, not that drunk), blowjob, brief oral (m receiving), public sex, sorta exhibitionism, doggy standing up, doggy, praise + degradation, unprotected sex, breeding/creampie, kinda soft at the end, N//SFW UNDER THE CUT, irl p*rn at the end (not SUUUPER accurate to the position i write but that video is so 🥴)

gojo sees you from across the party in the club, eyelids narrowed into slits when you down your fifth glass alcohol with utahime who’s shit-faced drunk. you’re for sure shouting in her ear when you grasp her arm to scream, saying something about getting another drink that gojo overhears even if he doesn’t have superpowers. sure, he could see with a blindfold, but he’s become so obsessed that he can read your lips clearly.

even with that, gojo would never admit that he’s fallen, keeping up the facade that you were one of his flings. he answers nonchalantly when you asks about the next hookup, he brushes off your questions of whether he’s on the market, he glances to the side when your figure unconsciously cuddles up to him and yet when you’re having the time of your life at his birthday party (which even utahime didn’t want to attend), he seethes with jealousy.

you weren’t his, so why was he so worked up anyway, right?

annoyed, he tugs on his blindfold, playing with the edge of it even when his students, recently turned legal, settle down beside him. yuji enjoys himself like always, taking in the never-seen-before sights of the club and megumi looks like he rather be somewhere else — still he can’t ignore his caretaker at 6 years old — and nobara, who seems to know every little thing about your relationship with their infuriating teacher.

“you know, sensei, staring is not going to do anything if you don’t actually do the thing,” she says unimpressed, sipping from her apple cider packet that makes an obnoxiously loud noise. it seems like that was her intention, anyway, with raised eyebrows. “you men think we have complicating feelings and yet you don’t do anything and instead just mope in the distance.”

gojo only sighs, not even denying it and instead takes a sip from his sparkling water, eyes still starring at your hips swaying from side to side above the rim of the glass until you meet his eyes from across the room like a cliched movie scene. gojo can feel the air being knocked out of his lungs when you wave him over while the other woman protests against it because while utahime can hardly make out whether the party lights are currently purple or pink, she doesn’t want gojo anywhere near her, to which she leaves to talk to yaga.

“come here often?” and you have to roll your eyes even if it was the oldest line in the book, but it no doubt has your heart pumping faster. you’re glad you can blame the sudden adrenaline on the alcohol.

“get to the point, gojo.”

“ouch, not even a first name?” he complains, wrapping a hand around your waist to bring you close to him. “and here i thought we were best friends.”

you scoff, “hardly, satoru. how’s your birthday so far for someone who can’t drink a single ounce of alcohol?”

it draws a laugh out of the other, who moves his palm right down to your ass, squeezing it gently, “how’s your legs so far for someone who only gets fucked by the strongest?”

you gulp at that, suddenly reminded of the many nights of pure, unfiltered fucking with the man across you. it sparks the sensation of your front pressed against his granite counters to the pressure of his showerhead against your cunt, purchased solely for you. even so, you try not to let it get to you, letting the familiar buzz of the alcohol encourage you to trail a hand down his chest. his breath hitches as you get awfully close to his erection, squeezing it slightly that elicits a whimper out of the other, “i think they’re doing just fine, thank you for asking.”

puckering your lips, it ends in a dramatic smack of your lips before you leave him to get more whiskey into your glass and gojo decides that it’s the end for you, that he’ll have you screaming once he warps you back into his apartment. it’s the last straw when he sees you’re leaned over the bar, and he wants to hold you down to the counter to fuck you so bad that he regrets inviting his students (why he decided to invite them to a club, no less), but albeit, he has to hold it in.

gojo stalks over to you to remove the glass from your fingers, right after the bartender pours it, before a slam is heard throughout the club, some droplets of your whiskey spilling onto gojo’s hand. even so, no one pays attention over the loud music apart from the neighbouring partygoers, too lost into gojo’s eyes that are slowly filling up with lust at your simple gesture. you remember those eyes to be like crystals, always so sure of his goal of resetting the jujutsu world or his infinity technique.

“you’re so in for it when we get home.”

and while gojo doesn’t want to admit like he never does, you’ve always gotten those eyes to darken in need and want and lust.

“oh, am i?” simply grabbing his hand, you down the glass of whiskey, confidently unhanding his fingers from the cold glass before you take it. and you challenge him, you look up at him as you lick up stray droplets that’s dirtied his hand. the tongue that glides across his skin is so warm and flexible and-

gojo lies, a whole lot, but when it comes to you, he can’t bring himself to spill untrue words. he’s going to make sure that you’re absolutely in for it, that you’re ruined once he gets you into his bed.

you giggle, a little high now, when he warps you back to his apartment in an instant, shoved against the hardness of his front door. his hands are frantic in removing his jeans, not even realising he’s on the wrong side of the door, but you’re thrilled by the possibility of being caught that you don’t hesitate to wrap your lips around his still hardening cock.

“o-oh my god, baby... your mouth’s so warm—” it’s takes some of the weight off of his shoulders, feeling your warm mouth encasing his length that he wants to cum there and then. you start to bob your head sloppily, making the lewdest noises while you hollow out your cheeks. sucking and squeezing with your hand, it reminds him of your tight hole.

“oh, no no no, i-i can’t—” abruptly he yanks you off, which you don’t exactly protest to as he brings you right into his home. he knows you’re a little intoxicated that you’d probably fumble with your underwear, so he does it for you. the fabric burns against your skin when he practically rips it off of you while your hands try to grab at anything on the shoe cupboard.

you’re so wet that you hardly need any prep, though. sighing as gojo’s fingers brushes over your hole, you realise it’s the only friction that you’ve felt for the whole night, all fervour leaving your body when they tease your cunt. “so wet, hm?”

you nod, grinding your hips onto the finger that’s drenched. “wan’ your cock, ’toru. right now, right now!”

“patience, princess.” gojo’s groans are heard when he first slips the tip in, red and angry, into your pussy. your name falls from his lips, coming out in short breaths when he feels your gummy walls hug him. he doesn’t waste any time, starting to snap his hips into yours and it sends a surge of pleasure up your spine, screaming out his name.

“s’big, s-satoru! you’re so deep!” gojo doesn’t even answer, hypnotised by the way his length disappears into you. from here, he can see how spread open your pussy lips are, accommodating his fat cock in your pussy that he’s personally shaped to be his. “more, more!”

and with every plea that falls from your lips, gojo gives it to you harder and faster because gojo does not lie to you, even when he wants to punish you for something, always giving into the temptation. gojo only ever lies to himself.

“you’re always take me so well, baby—” overcome with the want to fuck you dumb, he warps again to the bedroom while he’s still in you, but his hands are now deep in your hair. they push you down into the sheets while you shamelessly spread your legs to take in more of him. “—and always so desperate, too. what happened to your confidence earlier? gone, isn’t it? because you’re just a cockslut just for me, yeah?”

the questions only bring answers in the form of delirious giggles, agreeing with babbles and drool leaving your mouth. “yes, yes! ’m satoru’s slut!”

gojo smirks, “whore,” and it’s true, every thought and rational decision thrown out the window once he plays with your pussy, once his cock sinks into you. still hammering into you, he can feel his muscles starting to tighten and the slapping of skin get louder.

“that feel good? i’m close, baby,” gojo mumbles, body weight pressing onto yours that aligns comfortably with your glistening back. it allows him to snake an arm around your waist to toy with your clit, that it gets a mewl among the many moans that you let out, mixing with the squelching noises of your sopping, sloppy pussy.

“need your cum, ’toru. please, please, please!” you beg into the sheets below, both heart and cunt fluttering in excitement when his free hand finds yours. they intertwine with your fingers, giving you something to hold onto while his hips continue to piston into you. gojo prides himself on his stamina, yet he feels tired, he feels a little softer today, but it doesn’t matter when he knows you’re reaching your high too. clenching and writhing in his arms, he knows your body too well.

“baby, baby, you need to relax, fuck— if not i’ll-” gojo shivers when you cum unexpectedly, a long moan leaving your throat while you cream all over his length. your juices leak so much that it spills onto the sheets below, “pretty girl, pretty little thing, thaaat’s it, coat my cock with your cum.”

his insults turn into praises, lips groaning and breath hot in your ear when he delivers his last thrust into your hole before he cums hard, whimpering. he spurts his seed deep into your womb as you hum at the feeling, walls milking him for all he’s worth and you’re so comfy that he doesn’t even want to move.

“’toru?” gojo makes a sound of acknowledgement.

“what is it, beautiful?” and even under the influence, you can’t ignore the way the word feels on gojo’s lips.

“you know, you’re the only one ever.” gojo doesn’t know what to make of it, but his heart brims with pride. maybe his feelings aren’t that unrequited after all and maybe the strongest can finally stop lying to himself — guess he’ll just have to ask you about it in the morning where you’d definitely be cuddled into his broad chest, tracing your fingers over his always like you always do.

how he fucks you ♡ (irl p*rn, don’t open unless comfortable!)

event rules here

[zuluc]

@kookieyachi​ requested: i hate to be that one person but i doubt they'll increase the rate but imma try my best & start saving for zhongli & childe 😼🤚 anYWAY-, i was wondering if u could write another diluc x reader whr they're in a secret relationship (only kaeya knew somehow-) & one of the mcs & paimon heard rumours of diluc having a s/o & decide to follow him, to see him gg on a date w the reader or summ,,, hope its not too confusing haha🥺💖

pairing: diluc x gn!reader

style & genre: written; fluff

warnings: none

notes: i meant rng rates those screw me over when it matters but i hope we get good ones when their banners come in, i wish the best of luck to everyone pulling may we get our dream teams; THIS IS CUTE ty for all your requests you know what’s good 😪😪

the mc in this is aether because i love aether

“I hear someone has Master Diluc’s heart!”

“Is that so?”

“Aw, man! I wanted him...”

It’s been the talk of the town for longer than he expected and wanted it to be: Diluc’s love life. He was always the private one and never shared anything about his personal life so it was only natural that no one, minus Kaeya it seemed, had a clue as to who took Mondstadt’s most wanted bachelor.

“Are they sure he’s even with someone? Isn’t it just a rumor?” Paimon asks her travel companion as they make their way into the tavern for a late night drink. The pair had travelled back to the town for a few days and while walking through they listened in on what the townspeople were gossiping about this time around.

“Not sure, he doesn’t seem like the type. Why not ask him, Paimon?” 

Paimon flies in front of his face and places her hands on her hips, “You don’t just ask him! He’s so secretive and... and well just that! Also, Paimon thinks he’d just avoid the question.”

“You won’t know it’ll work if you never try.” Aether suggests and opens the door to the tavern. He himself actually wanted to know the truth to those rumors because, well think about it, it’s Diluc and any information that made him seem more emotional than he let on was interesting. He steps inside, seeing the people inside drinking and laughing. They all greet him with their cheerful, yet drunk replies, and Diluc nods his head in acknowledgement. 

“Welcome back. What’ll it be for tonight?” He asks them. Aether places his drink order and Paimon hovers over the bartender with a judging look on her face. Convenient that he is working tonight. He raises a brow, “Can I help you?”

“U-Uh,” she turns her attention to Aether who simply looks back at her and sips his apple cider vinegar, a look of you’re on your own for this one on his face. “Have you heard what’s being said around Mondstadt, Master Diluc?” She asks in a way to slowly lead into the main question. Diluc picks up a glass and shakes his head, turning around to place the item on one of the shelves. 

“I’ve never paid attention to gossip if that’s what you’re referring to. And like I’ve said before,” he eyes the emergency ration suspiciously, “I don’t dwell on idle chat.” Those words, while they weren’t intended to be as cold as they sounded, prevented Paimon from pressing on. She pouts while flying, but her gaze lands on his hands. They are void of his usual gloves and Diluc wore them even while working. She brushes it off as a useless observation and the door of the tavern opens. 

“Evening!” Charles greets them. He waves a hand to Diluc who finishes the last of the glasses he is cleaning, silently thanking the bartender for taking the rest of his shift. He walks out the back and Paimon floats up.

“Does he have something else to do? He usually stays for the rest of the night.” She questions Charles who shakes his head in amusement.

“He must be working hard,” Charles comments, “or maybe taking some time for himself.” Paimon perks up at what he says and she looks at Aether. The traveller finishes his drink and narrows his eyes at her.

“What?” He barely gets another word in before she is rushing out the door. “Paimon!” He places mora on the counter and bids Charles a good night before following her. The door swings open and Aether is met with Paimon flying in front of his face.

“We’ll follow him!” She states confidently, a glint in her eyes.

Aether stares at her blankly. “Uh, why?” Again, she doesn’t give him an answer when she sees a flash of red hair behind his head. They keep quiet and hide behind the stone building when they see Diluc look side to side, almost catching them in his sight.

“He’s definitely going somewhere!” She is much more invested in this than Aether thought, but his own curiosity was overpowering the possibility of getting caught by the pyro user as well. He wordlessly agrees and they quietly tread behind him through Mondstadt, hiding behind every pole and wall whenever they thought he believed someone was following him.

Minutes into their mission Aether catches sight of the Knight of Favonius building and his suspicions are raised. Diluc wouldn’t be caught dead near this place, what more just by walking by it? He stops at the side and Aether tugs his hovering companion away from Diluc’s line of sight when it opens, a familiar person stepping out.

“It’s--!”

“Honorary Knight!” Huffman interrupts Paimon’s exclamation as he rushes to the both of them. “Would you be able to help us out near Windrise? Quite a lot of slimes showed up and the other knights are preoccupied with their own missions. I know you just got back but...”

“We’re good!” Another knight shows up, running to them, “Captain Kaeya helped us out!” Aether looks back and forth between then before looking at the door. It seems that the person and Diluc had already left. 

“Ah, I see. Sorry to intrude on your evening.” Huffman excuses himself and leaves with the other knight. Paimon flies towards the empty stairs, floating around premises as if looking for clues.

“Paimon saw y/n! Do you think they’re together?” She questions. 

“Isn’t that too much of an assumption?” Paimon floats to Aether’s face with mock anger on her features. “Maybe they could just be well-acquainted.”

“Let’s just see who’s right then! I bet...” she places a finger to her chin, “...5000 mora!”

“You don’t even carry mora.”

--

The commissions burned you out but you are more than happy to see what awaits you after you leave the building. Bidding Jean goodbye, you settle into your coat and push the doors open. He’s standing there waiting like he said he would and you notice there is no one around, though you had an inkling that someone was watching you. You are broken out of your thoughts when Diluc’s warm hand cups your face. He was initiating more touches after becoming comfortable in your relationship, so you felt happy that he could do so outside though with no one to see.

To you, it was hard to believe that you managed to attract him in the first place, considering his many suitresses, but despite that he insisted that it was you he was after.

“Something the matter?” He asks gently, removing his hand when he could hear steps behind him. You shake your head and smile at him causing his heart to warm at the sight. “Good, shall we?”

Your dates aren’t like the usual ones. You walk around the sides of Mondstadt when everyone is asleep as you both share what has gone on in your day. Sometimes, you even take a stroll outside the city and sit under the large tree in Windrise, watching the stars twinkle. Going on many secret rendezvous were fun and brought an excitement and mystery to both of your lives when they occured. 

But even so, sometimes you wondered what it would be like if the townspeople knew. 

Diluc never explicitly mentioned that he wanted the whole town to know and you both came to the conclusion that keeping your relationship from the public would be beneficial. He was known to be aloof yet protective of Mondstadt. He had a reputation to uphold and the enemies would otherwise have vital information to his weaknesses if they came to know of your connection.

You know he loves you, he tells you every night before you have to part until you see each other the next day. And any doubt in your mind is gone when your hand is held tightly in his.

--

“Paimon, we’ve been following them for too long. They’re just talking.” Aether felt uncomfortable doing what they were doing and spying on the both of you. He watches the both of you engage in a regualr conversation. After losing sight of you at the Knights of Favonious building they glided around trying to track you both. He couldn’t see that your hands were intertwined due to how your coat concealed it. 

“Ahh! Fine, we should go rest,” Paimon says defeatedly, “Paimon can’t believe she lost 5000 mora!” Aether rolls his eyes and jumps down from the roof to head to a nearby inn. The streets are quiet but there are audible footsteps from their right as they move through the houses.

“Hey, it’s nice to see you back in town.” Kaeya greets him with the usual lilt to his voice. “Why are you two still up?”

“We were following Master Diluc because we think he’s seeing someone!” Paimon really has no shame, does she? Aether thinks to himself and he looks up at the Cavalry Captain when the latter lets out a light chuckle. 

“What an interesting activity... I do hope you find your answer,” Kaeya nods his head to direct it behind them. Aether and Paimon follow his direction and see the two they had been trailing for the past hours. “Good night.”

“I almost forgot!” The duo’s ears perk at the sound of your voice. You and Diluc are at the front of your home and their eyes widen at the sight of your hand in his. You reach into your coat pocket to pull out his gloves, “You left them here.”

“Thank you,” Diluc replies, lifting the hand he held to his lips and kissing the back. “Good night, my love.”

“Good night, Diluc.” The smile on your face is ever radiant and he leans down for his kiss. You oblige but pull away to lean closer to his ear, “It seems that we have company.” Your hold leaves him and you open your door, disappearing inside. Diluc turns his head and sees the shocked faces of the traveller and ration. 

“Paimon wins.”