#i know i say this a lot and then proceed to disappear again so take this with a grain of salt but aoweijfa

[moeblob]

Ladd: but why would you kill me when I'm willing to kill for you?? Lass: omg you can't just say you'd kill someone, Ladd. that's murder and it's frowned upon.

(and then Ladd does kill for her but it's fine and part of the job)

[crescentfool]

New Ryomina fic, Lizz!!

THREE WEEKS LATE TO THIS ASK BUT THANK U ANON!! honestly when i got this inbox i was like. tearing up. im like. "oh my god. people still think of me when they see ryomina. thank you so much. that means a lot to me. im so glad people want to share the joy of ryomina with me."

i assume that this is probably about "i alone await you," since the ask came around that time (two people possibly notifying me about this! crazy! this is positive. do not take that the wrong way), and i want to say that i've read it and am going to be insufferable about it for the forseeable future.

and if it is not about that fic than oops. give me clown makeup. i will happily put that on (my true form is that of a clown). i hope to read some more ryominas, it's been awhile since i've sat down to read the tag and. god. did you know? im so normal about them. anyways, thank you anon! 💛💙

[skzdarlings]

07. sharing a bed series ; skz ; seungmin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 7/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. sassy bad girl reader, sassy good boy seungmin. handcuffed together trope. sex toys, blow jobs, strap-on blow jobs, handjobs, dick piercings, fake sex. lots of bickering, lots of moaning, lots of evil smirking hehe.

-

It takes about ten minutes to get through the doorway because neither you or Seungmin will concede ground.  With your right hand handcuffed to his left hand, your shoulder-to-shoulder breadth is too big for the doorframe. 

After some arguing, you face each other.  You are glaring the entire time but you manage to force your way into the bedroom. 

You can’t change clothes with the handcuffs so you head straight for the bed where you proceed to stumble around clumsily.  With some cussing and your failed attempt to put him in a headlock, you and Seungmin manage to get in bed. 

You lay on your backs with your handcuffed hands between you.

There is a minute of silence.   Everyone else went to bed hours ago so the vacation house is silent.   It’s just you and the most annoying man on earth, forcibly handcuffed together, stuck in the same bed.    

“My life is a joke,” you say. 

“Yeah,” Seungmin says.  “Your life is a joke.  Ow!”

He slaps your hand when you pinch his thigh and you smack his chin only for him to chomp at your fingers.  You both roll your eyes and look away from each other for all of ten seconds, then you glare at him and he gives you a judgemental stare. 

“How are you going to sleep like that?” he asks. 

You raise your joined hands, the chain jingling.   

“Wow, Seungmin, whatever do you mean?” you say dryly.     

“Wow, Seungmin, meh-meh-beh-beh,” he mocks your tone then uses his free hand to smack your arm.  It makes a crinkling sound when it collides with the leather jacket you can’t remove.  “I’m talking about the skinned cow on the cow.”

“Funny.”

“The skinned cow is the leather jacket.”

“I know that.”

“And you’re the other cow.”

“I got it, Seungmin.”

“Just checking,” he says with that blithe, shit-eating grin of his. “You’re just not very smart so I wanted to be nice and check.”   

This fucking guy.  

Kim Seungmin is the mouthiest smartass you have ever met.  A friend of your friends, the acquaintanceship has been forced on you for the sake of the overall friend group.   You two are like oil and water, completely incompatible in every way.  You are the denim-and-leather bad girl and he is the blazer-and-tie good boy.  Equally sassy, but astronomically apart in lifestyle.   You clashed from your first introduction. 

You can usually manage an hour or two of civility, especially if you stay out of each other’s way, but this vacation has pushed that strained dynamic to its breaking point. 

Changbin’s family owns a vacation house near a ski resort so your whole friend group is spending the winter holidays at the luxury cabin.  This means you and Seungmin have been forced to interact for much longer than a few hours. 

You expected some annoyance but Seungmin is an even bigger brat than you remembered.  You have already spent three days at each other’s throats.  Tonight you went to a party at the resort and the few hours away from him did wonders, but it only took one stupid remark for you start fighting all over again. 

You didn’t even have time to remove your boots or jacket.  With Seungmin, it was on sight. 

Fed-up, Minho leapt off the couch and disappeared into his bedroom.  The others were just groaning or slouched in their seats, shaking their heads at you and Seungmin.   You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, every dry remark needing a comeback, every insult escalating. 

Then Minho returned.  He yanked Seungmin out of his seat and practically threw him at you.   You should have let his stupid face hit the ground but your reflexes kicked in and you caught him in his flail.  There were a few seconds of confusion before Minho clasped the handcuffs around you.   The whole room went silent, you and Seungmin staring at the cuffs then looking at Minho. 

Minho dangled the keys in your face.  

“I will let you out of the handcuffs,” he spoke as if speaking to particularly stupid children, “when you overcome your differences and decide to stop ruining the holiday.”

You and Seungmin both sputtered in protest, but neither of you were brave enough to physically fight Minho for the keys.  That kitty has claws, mean ones.  Not even you mess with Lee Minho. 

Now you and Seungmin are stuck sharing a bed.  You are still fully dressed, in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, whereas he was already dressed down in pyjama pants and a t-shirt.  All he has to do is remove his glasses and he’s fine to sleep. 

You, however, are dressed for a whole different kind of evening.

“Trust me,” you say with an aggrieved sigh, “the jacket is not the most uncomfortable thing I’m wearing.”

He pinches his glasses at the stem, wiggling them up-and-down like it will help him see better. 

“What do you mean?” he asks.  “Wait, you’re a freak, right?  Is it something kinky?”

He asks it mockingly but you smile and turn your face to him, lifting an eyebrow.  You get some satisfaction from the way his face contorts with realization.

“Wait, really?” he asks.  “What the hell.  Why?  What is it?”

“You sound curious.” 

You really can’t help but tease him, anticipating he will snap back with equal verve.  You are surprised when his remark gets tangled on his tongue, his mouth open with no reply.  The tips of his ears are faintly red. 

“Oh, you are curious,” you say.

“Gross, no way.”  He comes back to himself and scrunches his whole face with revulsion.  “Keep it to yourself.  Pervert.”

“Proudly.”

“Wow.”

You feel satisfied with the silence that follows, feeling like you finally won a conversation and sent him into a mute stupor.  But then he looks at you and you brace yourself for the incoming wave of irritation. 

“It’s not gonna suddenly go off or something, is it?” he asks.  “I don’t want to wake up to you thrashing around like a fish on a boat deck.”

“It’s a hard packer.  You know, a strap-on for wearing out?  A ready-to-go, signed-sealed-and-delivered dick?”  You list everything with the same pleasant smile.  “Big one too.” 

His face is perpetually frozen in a state of prepared ridicule so he still looks marginally judgemental, but more confused than repulsed. 

“Right now?” he says.  His eyes drift down to your jeans.  “You wore… you wore it out?”

“Brave new world, Seungminnie,” you say, the nickname making his eye twitch despite the sarcasm in it. 

“You’re lying,” he says.  He doesn’t wait for you to argue; he reaches with his cuffed hand to feel for extra weight between your legs.  It drags your own hand along with it, too surprised to react fast enough to stop him.  He finds what he was looking for, his brow furrowing when he closes his fist over the hard bulge under your fly.   “Whoa, wait, seriously?” 

“Dude!”  You pry his hand off, though he doesn’t go without a fight, patting it like it’s puppy.  “What the hell, man.  You can’t just grab someone’s dick like that.”

“Why not? It’s not real.”

“It is in a way!  I can still feel it!”

“You can?”  He pokes it.    

“Yes.” You swat him away.   “Depending on position.”     

“And you wore it to the party?” he says, then whistles low and shakes his head.  “Wow.  You have a high opinion of yourself.  Thought you were gonna get lucky?” 

“I did very well for myself, thanks.”

He holds up your cuffed hands with a sarcastic look of his own. 

“Not that well,” he says.  “Or you wouldn’t be here.” 

“I don’t tend to stay the night,” you say. 

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em,” he says.  “I should have known.”  He sighs as if disappointed in you. 

You barely register his retort, your brain jumping ahead a few paces.  

Walking around with ready-to-play silicone in your pants does have a tendency to leave you teetering on the side of horny, so maybe that’s why your brain is incapable of supplying another type of plan, but a plan begins to form nonetheless.

“I have an idea,” you say. 

“Breaking your wrist so you can slide out of the handcuffs?”

“Kim Seungmin, I’ll let you know that while I might have one hand out of commission, I am still capable of shoving your slipper in your mouth.” 

“Kim Seungmin, meh-meh-meh, beh-beh-beh.”

“Why do I even bother?”  You sigh.  “Do you wanna get out of these handcuffs or not?”

“Fine.”  He fiddles with his glasses and glares at you.  “I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s your idea?”

You sit up and nod your head towards the wall behind the headboard. 

“Minho’s room is on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?”  you ask.   

“Yes,” he replies, warily.  “Why?”

“Let’s pretend to have noisy sex.”

“What!”  He sits upright too, the cuffs jingling again.

“We can bang the headboard against the wall,” you add.

“What the hell is that supposed to accomplish, you idiot?”

“Two things,” you say.  “One: that we have clearly resolved our differences through the release of sexual tension.  And two: if we are exceptionally noisy about it, it will piss him off enough to want to separate us again.” 

“That is a terrible plan,” he says, which is not a rejection.  “Besides there’s no sexual tension between us.  There’s no way he’d believe it.”

“Well then,” you say, leaning closer to his face, “you better put on a believable performance to make up for it, hm?” 

You expected him to lean back but he didn’t move, so you find yourself nose-to-nose and locked in a staring contest.  It is so quiet that you can hear every intake of breath.   His gaze goes from your eyes to your lap and back again, jaw clenching.

“Fine,” he says.  “I’m only willing to try because I’d rather chew off my hand than spend the night with you—”

“I mean, you can try that too,” you say. 

“Shut up.”  He grabs the collar of your jacket and jerks you around.  “Just get down.”

“Uh, get down?” You push when you realize he is trying to wrestle you onto your back.  You lift your joined hands off the bed so he loses his balance.  “You get down. I’m on top.”

“Can you relax?” he says, scrambling back upright.  “We’re not actually having sex, you uptight weirdo.”    

“Yeah, but do you think those skinny arms can push this headboard against the wall?”

“I think these skinny arms can push you off the bed.” 

“I think those skinny arms will find themselves following.” 

You tussle for a good minute, pushing at each other’s faces and tugging each other’s shirts.  Your physical strength overpowers his but he isn’t hindered by a stupid leather jacket.   Already a bit sweaty and exhausted, you surrender with an aggravated huff. 

“Fine, try it then,” you say, flopping on your back.  You stubbornly cross your arms, trapping his cuffed hand in your arm. 

“Let me go,” he says, trying to wrest his arm back. 

“I’m not doing anything.  Ahh, stop that!”

He tires to lick you.  Tongue out, he dives at your head.  He only stops when you snatch his glasses off his face, at which point he climbs on top of you to try and grab them back. 

“Stop it. This is so immature,” he says, stretching to reach your own outstretched arm.

“Immature?” you ask, aghast.  “You were trying to lick me!”

“That was different.”

“How?”  

“Because you suck,” he says. 

He manages to get his glasses back.  He sticks out his tongue as he puts them on his face. 

You tussle a little more, shuffling around and swiping at each other.  Eventually you get to the middle of the bed with him still straddling your hips.  Your cuffed arm lifts when he grips the headboard with both hands.  He strains for one pitiful push.  His hair bounces but the headboard barely hits the wall. 

You lift an eyebrow. 

“Shut up,” he says.

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply.

“I can hear your ugly face.”

“That’s a you problem.”

He ignores you and braces himself to push on the headboard again.  All the beds are extravagantly woodworked pieces, the headboards dense and heavy.  Despite the proximity to the wall, you are not surprised it takes effort to actually make the bed bounce.  

Seungmin, to his credit, does not give up easily.  He braces his shoulders, but this time when he pushes he rocks with his whole body.  

Unfortunately, this does drag almost all his weight against the toy in your pants.  You are wearing the kind of underwear designed to support a toy, the base of it separated from your clit by only a strip of fabric.  When he rocks against you, it grinds there, and your hands instinctively fly to grab his hips.

It knocks him a bit off balance because your cuffed hand drags his down too.  He puts that hand over yours, cupped around his hip, and glares down at you. 

“What the hell was that?” he asks. 

You let go of his hips immediately. 

“Nothing,” you say.

He looks at you with a scrutinizing eye, then looks down, then up again.   You hold his gaze unflinchingly, at least until he rocks again and a little spark of heat goes off inside you. 

“Can you feel that?” he asks.  He asks it matter-of-factly, peering down at you from behind his big round glasses, sitting comfortably in his stupid pyjamas. 

“Yes,” you speak in as steady a voice as you can, because you will not show weakness first.   “There are only a couple positions where I can feel it strongly.  This… is… one of them.” 

“Wow,” he says.  He looks genuinely reflective for a minute, then he grins one of his evil grins.  “So… you can feel when I do this?”  He puts his free hand on the middle of your chest and leans forward so he grinds against you at a different angle, his own bulge pushing against yours. 

“Ohmyff—”  You grab his hips again, freezing him while he snickers above you.  “Dude.” 

“Just checking,” he says.  He grabs the headboard and pushes again.  The thud is a soft one. 

You clench your jaw, annoyed and wound up.  You grab his waist and roll over in one fluid motion, knocking some wind out of him when you thump him on his back.   His thighs clench instinctively to hold onto your hips, his legs still around your waist when you grab the headboard and shove it several times in a row.  

His cuffed arm is above his head, hand dangling under your grip on the headboard.  His glasses are askew from the flip, his legs still open around yours.  He stares at you, however crookedly through the tilted glasses.  Your breathing is heavy in the quiet room.  He swallows.

You break the silence with a pointed, “Well?”

“Well, what?” he asks just as roughly. 

“Moan or yell or something.  Whatever you normally do in bed.”

“I’m normally quiet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you say dryly.  “Since that mouth never stops.”  

“Why don’t you moan?” 

“Because I’m in charge of bed pushing.”  To make your point, you rock the bed some more, pushing slightly against him with the motion.  The headboard hits the wall for a few rhythmic thumps. 

He fixes his glasses with his free hand, still frowning at you.  That hand freezes on his glasses when you shrug your coat off your free arm, too hot to keep wearing it.  It will only get caught on the handcuffs if you push it down the other arm so you leave it hanging off your shoulder.  You put your hand back on the headboard, muscles flexing with the next shove.   His eyes go to your arm. 

“Well?” you say.  

He looks at you.  It’s a cold, unfeeling stare, followed by an annoyed puff of a breath. 

Then he makes a sound, a small, rough moan in the back of his throat.   You are certain only you can hear it.   He looks right at you while doing it, legs still accommodating your shape, on his back with an open mouth while glaring at you despite the noises.

It is, in a word, hot.  Hot as fucking hell.  Oh god.  You are not getting turned on by Kim Seungmin.  Absolutely not. 

He moans again, closing his eyes and shifting with the next push, as if he can really feel it.   He cants his hips and falls back again.  He moans one more time.

Ah, you think.  Fuck. 

You stop shoving the bed for a second, breathless and not from exertion. 

You clear your throat.  Seungmin is still staring at you.  You stare back, then your gaze drifts.  The leather jacket starts to slip down your shoulder so you tug it back up.  You gulp. 

“You’re hard,” you say, a very basic observation.  His soft pyjama pants leave little to the imagination.

He drops his legs from around your waist, but you are between his thighs so he can’t quite close them.  He plants his feet on the bed and glares up at you. 

“So are you,” he says.

“Mine’s not real,” you say.  

“Ohh, so now it’s not real?”  He rolls his eyes.  “Sorry, I can’t keep up with Schrodinger’s dick.” 

“You know what I mean, smartass.”  

“If anything yours is more real,” he says.  “Your dick is more deliberate than mine.  I can’t control my hard-on but you put one there on purpose.” 

That logic is a weirdly difficult to argue.  You try to think of a witty comeback but your brain is more than a little fried. 

“So,” is all you say, at a loss. 

He stares up at you for another second, then pushes himself upright.  You let his cuffed hand lead yours, at least until you realize he is bringing his hands to the button of your jeans.  You seize his cuffed hand and tug it away. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks contemptuously.  He even snarls. 

Despite the viciousness, he dives in without waiting for an answer.  He uses his free hand as a guide, but otherwise he leans forward and clamps his teeth around the button.  He works it open quickly, then takes the zipper in his mouth and yanks it down. 

You let go of his hand, surprised.  He uses both hands to fish the toy out of your pants. 

He balks at it. 

“You walked around with this all night?” he asks, looking up at you. 

Fuck.  It is literally right by his face.  It looks obscene.  Your figures twitch with the urge to cup his chin. 

“Yes,” you answer in a low voice.  “It’s my preferred method of, uh, action.”

“Action,” he repeats, smiling like the word is a hilarious punchline.  He even cackles a little.  “Action,” he repeats.  “Not ‘making love?’”  His tone is drole. 

“Not really the making love type,” you say. 

“Wow,” he says.  His eyes flick to your toy dick, just millimeters from his face.  He pushes his glasses up his nose.  He glances up at you with that evil smile.   “Same,” he says. 

Then suddenly he has his mouth wrapped around the end of it, looking up at you as he sucks on it. 

For a second, you think you have gone completely insane, because you swear you can feel it.  Your clit and pussy and every other body part rears to life with sudden, unbidden arousal. 

“Jesus fucking—” you start.

He pops off your dick with a wet sound.   He licks his lips. 

“Hmm,” he says, eying it thoughtfully.  “Tastes funny.   Could you feel that?”

“Kinda,” you squeak.  “In a way.”

“Got it.” 

Is this even turning him on?  His dick is filling out his pyjama pants so you think so, but he is also approaching the entire thing like it can be hacked through a scientific algorithm.   He studies the toy with a lot of scrutiny, as if he is calculating the mechanics of it. 

“You don’t have to—” you start, but then suddenly his mouth is back on the end of it, his free hand is in the middle of it, and he is pushing it back against you, clearly having figured out you can feel the part against your clit.  He grinds it there, up and down, bobbing his head and staring up at you. 

It is usually fairly difficult to reach orgasm this way but he takes you the edge in an almost terrifying speed run, then abruptly stops.  He takes in a deep breath, a huge wad of spit connecting his lips to the end of the toy.

“Did that do something?” he asks, wiping his mouth. 

Your jacket slips down your arm and catches on the handcuffs.  You stare at him.

“Uhhh…” you say, voice guttural.  “Yes.” 

He grins, looking immensely satisfied with himself. 

“That wasn’t so hard,” he says.  “I thought it would be more complicated.  I’m guessing gravity works in your favour when someone sits on it?” 

Yes, that is your brain spilling out of your ear in a big, mushy goop. 

“Uh, yeah,” you say.  “Yeah.”  What the fuck else are you supposed to say? 

He suddenly narrows his eyes at you, his regard suspicious even while he starts jerking the toy with his free hand. 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” 

You show him the only way that makes sense, leading his cuffed hand to your pants and nudging the toy aside so he can slip his fingers past it.  He freezes completely when he feels how turned on you are, looking up at you as he returns his now wet fingers to himself. 

“Oh,” he says.  He looks at his fingertips.  “I see.” 

Then he grins at you and puts his fingers in his mouth. 

“Right,” you say.  “Got it.” 

You grab him and put him on his back again, reaching immediately for his waistband.  You have barely grasped the material when you are suddenly shoved back, his foot planted squarely in the middle of your chest. 

“Slippers first,” he says.  

He is just being difficult.  You know that, but you indulge the little brat anyway, glaring at him while removing his stupid slipper.  You toss it behind you and he switches feet, shoving his other one in the same spot.  He smiles at you, leaning back on his elbows at tapping his slippered toes against your heart.   You shake your head but remove that one too.  Before he can try any more funny business, you grab him under the knee and push his knees back to his chest.  His glasses slip a little again.  His cuffed hand can’t leave yours, hooked under his knee, so his free hand awkwardly reaches up to fix them. 

“Careful,” he says, like you’ve been the unreasonable one in any way, shape, or form. 

“I’ll try,” you say dryly, then reach for his waistband. 

You get the material barely shuffled past his hips when your jaw falls open. 

“Hold on,” you say, fingers reaching for his twitching dick.   “No way.  No way.” 

Kim Seungmin.  Blazer-and-tie good boy.  Pristine socialite.   Arrogant snob.   High society darling.   Spoiled brat.  Good boy.  Good boy.   Good boy. 

He has a classically beautiful piercing on the head of his dick. 

He opens his mouth to speak, his expression revealing it is about to be some mouthy retort, but it turns into a gasp when you run your thumb up and over, teasing at it, gathering a not-inconsiderable amount of precum and stroking the whole length of him. 

“Aren’t you pretty,” you say, circling the most sensitive cluster of nerves with your thumb.   It makes his thighs twitch and his shoulders shake. 

“S-surprised?” he asks. 

“Honestly, yeah,” you admit. 

He looks very satisfied with that, grinning at you.  That evil smile drives you crazy so you flash a grin of your own then dive down. 

His fake moans were pretty close to his real ones, but his real ones are louder as you expected.  He has to bite his fist to keep the sound down.  You rise, wiping at your mouth and glaring at him. 

“Louder,” you say.  “Remember?”

“Oh, right.”  He drops his hand.  “Your stupid plan.  Okay.  Continue.”  He waves you onward like a prince, thumping his head back on the pillows. 

He is so annoying.  He really does have a pretty dick, though.  Drawing real moans out of him is more fun than arguing over fake ones, and he makes some exceptionally lovely sounds when you put your mouth on him.  He starts gasping when he gets close, his face scrunching up, but he grabs your head and stops before he gets there fully. 

You look at him with a questioning eyebrow lift but move when he nudges you.  He gets on his knees so you are kneeling in front of each other, then he guides your hand back to his dick at the same time he curls his fingers around the base of your toy.  

Your eyes are heavy-lidded and your mouths are close together but not touching.  It feels like another contest, to see who will give in and kiss the other person first, even while your hands are way past that stage. 

Fuck it, you think when he gets a bit whiny, breathing hard against your lips.  You clasp your free hand around his neck and drag him close for a kiss.  It makes him come, his back locking and mouth opening under yours.  He wouldn’t be Seungmin if he didn’t try and turn a kiss into a fight, licking at you with messy intensity.  The rapid back-and-forth of his tongue coupled with his skilled hand takes you over the edge too. 

You get a bit euphorically giggly when you come, smiling against his mouth. 

Seungmin turns unexpectedly clingy, putting his free arm around your neck and burying his face in your shoulder.  He holds so tightly that you fall, flopping onto the bed with him still nestled against you.  

You lay there for a bit, him still hiding, your heavy breathing slowing to a more normal cadence.  Eventually he lifts his head and exhales.  He adjusts his crooked glasses then grins. 

“I won,” he says.

“You can’t win at sex,” you reply.

“Yes you can, and I just did.  Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Oh my god.” 

Your exchange passes with far less animosity than usual.  You still side-eye each other while dealing with your respective dicks.  It’s a little easier for him to pull up his pants one-handed than it is for you to wrestle a toy out of an O-ring, but you do succeed.  You let it roll off the edge of the bed, watching and listening as it thumps onto the floor. 

You look over Seungmin who was watching too.  When you make eye contact, you both start laughing.  It turns the whole scene into an unusually affectionate one.  Figuring you might as well commit, you hold his cuffed hand in your own.  He rolls closer, eying you with those perpetually mischievous eyes.

Then suddenly the bedroom door flies open.  It smashes into the wall, startling both of you. 

Minho walks up to the bed and chucks the keys at you, glares, then turns and leaves the room.  He slams the door shut behind him. 

You and Seungmin look at each other then down at the keys. 

“Told you,” you say. 

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

He licks your cheek unprompted, then unlocks the cuffs while you complain and wipe your face.  It has you so distracted that you are a second too late realizing he has another dastardly plan in mind. 

Your wrist is still cuffed.  He takes the now empty half and clasps it around one of the intricate loops in the headboard.   You tug on it then look at him. 

“Kim Seungmin,” you say. 

“Kim Seungmin,” he repeats in that mocking voice, grinning as he climbs up over you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, trying not to smile at his wicked grin as he starts kissing under your chin and down your chest.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “I’m winning.”

You decide not to argue for once.   It goes without saying you both won this round. 

[dawndelion-winery]

Dumb Ways To Fall in Love

The silly things they do to impress you when they're in love

Ft. Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Dainsleif, Scaramouche

Childe:

He's always liked to think he was charming in his own odd way

And he does fully expect said "charm" to work on you

Which is why he's pretty confused as to why you don't seem smitten by his obvious attention

He cooks for you a lot! But they're normally,,,,unique dishes with whatever he fishes himself

Because he wants to impress you with how he can whip something up from scratch

Which doesn't really work out well because...well we've seen his signature dish

More often than not, the dessert is far more appetising

Please use that as motivation to finish the main course, he tried his best and it would hurt his feelings if you didn't even try it

Diluc:

He knows him being a rich, gentlemanly bachelor is a very big seeking point of his to most of the Mondstadt population

Which is why he not so subtly tries to subtly flex his wealth in front of you

Now he's already normally generous, which is what makes it so jarring when he does it with you

Because mentally he's just "Yeah, I'd do this for the average Mondstadt citizen, which means I have to one up that now"

But of course who's to determine what "one" is?

Hence the huge leap of obvious favouritism

Not even a hint of hesitation when you seem to want something from him

The number of times he's just agreed to whatever favour you've asked for before you've even specified the favour should give you an idea of what he's like

Kaeya:

He once heard you mention how you feel he's too cool and unapproachable for you, as nice as he was

So he makes an effort to slip up in front of you

Internally he thinks you'll appreciate it - "Notice me being a dumbass and find it endearing please"

Surely that should change your mind about him, right?

Until he overhears another of your opinions on him and how you (affectionately) called him a goofball playing a suave captain

Which he couldn't quite refute but he wasn't entirely sure if that was positive

Leading him back to his initial bravado, once again creating that rift because the dork you thought you noticed had disappeared

And then he panics again because you seem distant again

And the cycle repeats itself until he gets some sense slapped into him or you take a chance and ask him out

Dainsleif:

It wasn't easy being captain of the royal guard

But it was somehow easier than baring his heart to you

Brings you fruits and flowers as he travels with you

Definitely the type to silently bring you cut and peeled fruit as a nonverbal "I love you"

He's gotten really good at food presentation because of it, and adds little edible flowers as decoration

If you ever decide to take a break and read, he offers to feed you the fruit

Honestly at some point it's more like you would naturally assume y'all are dating?? But he doesn't really get the memo and keeps wondering why you never bring it up like is he not being obvious enough for you?

In pain whenever you snuggle up to him assuming you think it's platonic but accepts it nonetheless because it's nice to be able to hold you and be held

Scaramouche:

All people do is disappoint so why put in the effort to woo you?

So he says as he proceeds to try impress you anyway

Subtly flexes quite literally every strength he has in front of you

For no apparent reason he'll cook over a campfire he started out of nowhere just because

Yeah, y'know, just to show he can work with what he's got, he's very resourceful

You're not entirely sure what his intentions are though, since he's more of proving his usefulness instead of showing you he cares about you

And you'd probably only pick up on that if you knew his past

He does pick up on what makes you feel loved and enjoy his presence over time though, so give him a little adjustment time to work out how to best express himself to you

Taglist[send an ask to be added/removed]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @lovers-on-the-eiffel @cxlrosii @miss-fantazmagoria @lychme @kokomist @lemonswriting @eowinthetraveller @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate

[caffinated-and-sleepy]

Part 1

Thranduil with a human SO

Meeting Thranduil

- Realistically I don’t think Thranduil would ever let himself get close to a new other half that’s human

- Thranduil would never be ready to watch his significant other die again especially that quickly, after all 50 years is a blink of an eye for an elf

- Throwing what is realistic out the window let’s say he does find a human significant other

- Even then you have to be a VERY intriguing human to catch his eye

- Most likely you met him when he and his guard stopped at Lake Town on the way to Erebor

- He was entranced by how you treated him like a normal person

- It was strange, most mortals trembled before his 7ft tall frame

- Not you, you simply welcomed him to the Inn and left to help clean the bar

- Of course Thranduil didn’t intend to sit at the bar at all considering he could easily drink wine that didn’t taste like piss in Mirkwood

- But he convinces himself he’s just being a good King by going down and checking on his soldiers

- Of course his soldiers were doing well, many of them where testing out how many ales they could hold down they found it was 74 pints

- You were now in front of the bar sweeping and humming a low melody under your breath

- He goes to grab your attention and moves besides you, only for you to crash into him

- Thranduil catches you by the hand and for a minute the two of you simply looked like you were dancing

- “Are you alright?”

- You blush with a sweet smile on your face (me writing this: do it, write the line. NOOOO I CAN’T. Don’t be a wuss do it! IT’S SO GENERIC. DO IT. )

- “Looks like I fell for you.” (I’m sorry) Thranduil is beyond taken aback and processes what you said after he fully pulls you up.

- His response is a strange look and “I’m glad your alright.” and he disappears to his room.

- You don’t see him the next morning either since he and his soldier left for Erebor when dawn broke

- Little did you know the King of Mirkwood had trouble sleeping that night

- When they came back through Lake Town Thranduil was exhausted

- Lacking sleep and arguing with pig-headed dwarves can do a lot to an elf

- After checking back into the inn he finds you working again and decided to once more check on his soldiers

- After glancing over all of them he turns his eyes towards you, he then proceeds to listen in on your conversation with the owner’s nephew; Thaine

- “I don’t get why you’re still here? You could be at home by now.” The boy looked to be turning into a man (18ish)

- You shrugged “I like listening to the elves, Síndarian sounds beautiful! It runs off the tongue with such elegance and it brings about a sense of calm.

- The boy replies “That’s great y/n but I don’t think you should be in the commons alone and I need to head home soon. Mother said to be home before midnight.”

- Looking at the boy you sighed and said “Alright, just let me pack up and tell the customers.”

- Before you say anything to the other elves Thranduil butts in after leaving his eavesdropping corner (I sWeAr I wAs DrOpPiNg No EaVeS sIr!)

- “I can watch over both her and my own men if she wishes to stay.” He looks to you with the slight raise of his eyebrows.

- Looking to Thaine you immediately reply “Absolutely fine with me!” With a wide smile right after.

- Shaking his head with a shrug Thain says goodbye and walks out

- Finally alone with the king you opt to break the silence

- “You do not have to stay if you do not wish to. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your bed.” You almost looked guilty as if second guessing taking Thranduil’s offer

- Thranduil was now also surprised at how genuine you seemed, you a mere mortal was just worried he wasn’t getting enough sleep

- His face betrays him as he shows some sense of curiosity and amusement “It is quite alright, I do not usually sleep much until we arrive back at Mirkwood. I find that sleeping on rocks throw out ones back.”

- You couldn’t help but let out an audible gasp and let slip “So the rumor is true? The dwarves sleep on rocks?!”

- At this point he couldn’t tell if the human was dumb or dense, but he instead went with uneducated

- For the rest of the night you asked questions about the race of dwarves and elves

- The soldiers silently questioned why the King took an interest in a human, but they kept quiet

- Thranduil did his best to answer your questions, at one point he even smirked instead of giving you a blank stare

- The next day Thranduil felt a bit disappointed when leaving, you were the most intriguing human he had met in a while.

- Although something Thranduil didn’t say was that the dwarves didn’t actually sleep on rocks he is just a diva who missed his ultra plush bed in Mirkwood

Why is it kinda giving gen z reader? Nah but I swear it’s like a tradition to randomly post a Thranduil Imagine every few months, my Tolkien Curse. Anyways I hope you enjoyed and please comment, repost and like!

[wangxianficrecs]

🔒 Buried Deep by NeverEnoughWangxian

🔒 Buried Deep

by NeverEnoughWangxian (@neverenoughwangxian)

T, 11k, Wangxian

Summary: They proceed to play a somewhat staticky audio recording of the teacher in question. “—if it’d just been me in here I’d vote for the underwater tunnel option, but I’ve got kids in here who can’t swim. We have plenty of snacks and water to last us for a while, so please just focus on getting the rocks cleared away, okay? Safely, of course. Oh, and remind the ones out there that I still expect them to do their homework for tomorrow!” He laughs, bright and clear even through the crackle of the bad reception. Lan Wangji drops the knife. It clatters loudly on the cutting board, just barely missing his fingers. He hardly even notices. He’s too focused on that voice he knows so well, on the laugh that he still hears sometimes in his dreams even after all these years. He exhales shakily. “Wei Ying…” Wei Wuxian disappears without a trace, and then ten years later, shows up on the news during a cave-in... Kay's comments: This story was great! It really had me hooked all the way to the end and it was beautifully written as well. Despite the setting, I also found that the angst was more on the minor side, despite me being practically glued to the monitor until the end of the story. I really loved how seamlessly the pieces fell in place for Wangxian and how there wasn't any awkwardness between them even after thirteen years. Jingyi was also a lot of fun in this story. Excerpt: Whenever the audio switches to recordings of Wei Wuxian over the handheld radio, it takes all of Lan Wangji’s control to keep from swerving into another lane from shock. Hearing his voice is surreal after so long. He wishes it could’ve been in very different circumstances, of course, but even this, even just knowing he’s alive, feels like a gift. Lan Wangji savors every word he says, every staticky laugh, every light-hearted quip clearly meant to keep his students from panicking. At one point, the rescue team asks Wei Wuxian about his injury and he tries to brush it off again, but the kids in the background — including Lan Jingyi — loudly and unabashedly reveal the truth: he’d pulled students back from the falling stalactites and covered them with his own body to protect them from the spray of debris, and in the process a few stray rocks had clipped him across his back and shoulders.

pov lan wangji, modern setting, modern no powers, teacher wei wuxian, professor lan wangji, mutual pining, disappearance, reunions, love confessions, minor injuries, hurt wei wuxian, angst with a happy ending, getting together, friends to lovers

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[cloudninetonine]

“He’s not waking.”

“Refusing to sleep for three days straight would do such to a man.”

“Well yes, that and….the lavender mushrooms I put in his stew.”

“Lavender mushrooms- did you spike his food!?”

“Look,” Wild started, raising his hands in defence at Warriors and Twilight’s horrified looks. “The nightmare had scared him witless, it was either this or the hallucinations get to him and trust me, the horrors we have seen do not translate well into insomniac mirages.”

“And this was better!?” Twilight snapped, panic in his eyes. “Champion, he was already refusing to sleep because of nightmares you’ve essentially trapped him in his own head!”

“Would you rather him sleep or start swinging at enemies that aren’t even there!?”

To say it was a tense was an understatement, the whole group staying silent as they watched two of the oldest argue with the cook as the Old Man laid still in his sleep mat. Time wasn’t dead but he certainly looked closed to it, his eyes sunken in with a ghostly pale tint to his skin- you had never seen someone so badly affected by lack of sleep but then again this wasn’t just a lack but any at all. All thanks to the nightmare that had him screaming days before, thrashing violently in his bedroll in the middle of the night which had each of the boys pulling swords ready to fight. Nothing was around. Nothing at all and the Old Man thus began his refusal to set a toe in the land of dreams.

Which led to now.

Glaring at Hyrule beside you, you watched as the brunette slightly shrunk under your gaze. “Is this why you went foraging with Wild earlier?”

Eyes avoidant, the man muttered a hesitant, “...no.” that was enough of an answer to you.

As annoyed as you were you also couldn’t blame the boys. Time was already starting to show the start of losing it- auditory hallucinations, whipping his head around in confusion which was slowly beginning to border frustration with the scowl and hard eyes he had adopted.

Time needed to sleep and finally, he was put to rest.

But what were you supposed to do without your leader? Wallow and fret as he slept off the last 70+ hours that he sorely needed to catch up on? Bask in relief that he was finally able doze? You didn’t really know as you continued to watch the trio argue until finally Warriors snapped for them to shut it.

“We will be stuck here until further notice thanks to your decision, Champion.” Wild flinched at the Captain’s tone, not used to such the aggressive tongue from the other blonde but backing down in understanding. “How long will it take for him to recover?”

“...It took me only a day for the mushroom to finally be rid of my system.”

“Then a day we shall stay, and another to make sure our eldest is well.” Dragging a hand down his face, Warriors grunted. “We are to make sure that the surrounding area is clear- ranch-hand you’re with me and so are you, Champion.”

The two grabbed their weapons, Wild hesitating slightly knowing of the oncoming lecture that the two were about to drag them into.

“Smithy, traveller please keep an eye on him.” 

And they left to the surrounding dense forest in search of enemies to hunt.

Gently, your hand moved to brush away a few stray strands from Time’s face. Eyes narrowing in concern, you witnessed the exhaustion over his face with growing concern, “Feel better soon, Link.” 

His lips twitched as he slept.

----------

The tension had slowly disappeared within the day, leading the lot of you to a more relaxing night. Time still laid comatosed upon his mat, periodcally twitching within his sleep as the evening progressed on- you wondered what exactly went through his mind. Was he fighting the return of that nightmare days before? Was he dreaming of his home or maybe dreaming about his boys? An enigma doused in sopor as you all watched over him.

It was Legend who took first watch. Four, Warriors and Sky would proceed to follow once the veteran’s job had run it’s course, eyes peered into the pitch black of the surrounding thicket to check for any monsters that strayed a little too far into the light. Not that you were expecting anything, when the trio had returned later with dirtied clothes and lightly scathed skin. Tonight wouldn’t be eventful.

Or so you thought.

When you woke up it was still dark, the soft embers of the dying fire casting shadows of the sleeping bodies around it, the dim outlines giants from the position of the fading flame when you pushed yourself into a small kneel, hand rubbing at your eyes.

“Why’s the fire fading…?” You muttered more to yourself than anything, blinking the sleep out of your vision as you glanced around. Something felt off. “Hey-”

Quiet.

It was quiet.

It wasn’t supposed to be quiet.

Just off the edge of the group was a boulder, not too big nor too small, just the right size for someone to sit on as they did whatever it was they wanted. It had become the designated spot for the night watch, a perfect little lookout.

It sat, empty of any participant.

Swallowing the ball in your throat, you glanced around the area nervously counting the multitude of bodies.

1, 2, 3, 4-

Legend, Sky, Four and Wind-

5, 6, 7-

Twilight, Wild and Hyrule.

Blinking, you recounted.

1, 2, 3, 4-

Legend, Sky, Four and Wind-

5, 6, 7-

Twilight, Wild and Hyrule-

Where were Warriors and Time?

“Rulie.” No hesitation, you leaned over the brunette with your hand landing on his shoulder to shake him. “Rulie, please.”

Hyrule did not jerk. He did not spasm. He did not gasp. Nor did he twitch. Still. Hyrule laid still.

Horror dawned your face, the hand on his shoulder slowly sliding to rest over his mouth-

And breaths did leave him.

With furrowed brows, your hand returned and you moved him more violently. “Hyrule.”

Nothing once again.

You violently shoved him.

“Link!”

And there was nothing once more.

Well, nothing from him. Your shout echoed through the small clearing, catching the wind and making your ears ring as you quickly ducked into your sleeping bag, afraid.

One moment, two moments, three- peaking your head out, there seemed to be nothing.

And you hoped it stayed that way.

You went through the entirety of the camp. Shaking and calling, yanking and (whisper) shouting, tugging and pleading but it seemed that nothing was waking them. The boys were alive, breathing but not a single one of them stirred. It was terrifying, the spell that seemed to be cast over them all and the want to go back to your bed roll and hide like a child scared of the monsters within your wardrobe was such an intense feeling.

But you couldn’t sit here, helpless.

Not when Warriors and Time were missing. One certainly incapacitated and the other, well, you weren’t too sure.

It wasn’t the smartest decision but if none of the real heroes could help, then you had to find it within yourself to be the courageous one. You hated leaving them alone but when already 10 minutes had gone by with nothing, not a snap of a branch or the sound of footsteps, you came to the conclusion that any answers laid out in the darkness just beyond the trees. You took Fi for the backup, mentally apologising to Sky for the thievery as you stood just on the line between isolation and separation.

Isolation from the truth and separation from your safety.

The leaves crunched under your feet as you embarked into the lone dark.

Phone light in hand, you followed a non existent path to nowhere. Your breaths quiet along with your steps, glancing around the area with a flick of your wrist to reveal to you more of your surroundings. Tree after tree you passed, save the odd bush or rotting stump from a lumberjack doing his duty, seemed just as normal as the grass beneath your feet. There wasn’t really anything odd. Save for the air. The air felt tense and it felt suffocating, but you blamed such a thing on your own nerves.

Not that you didn’t blame the circumstances, oh, they were your true enemy.

“Wars?” You could barely make out a proper call, your voice more of a whimpered mutter than a concerned cry. “Warriors, are you out here?”

Nothing heard you.

Well, that’s what you thought.

Turning past another grand oak tree, you saw the edge of the forest, the moon peering past the abundance of leaves on the outstretched branches. You had strayed too far, was a thought that popped into your mind, glancing past the nature to see the field that laid beyond it.

Nothing for miles but that didn’t mean the two hadn’t been taken- that they were long gone.

You turned back towards the forest and began to make your way back towards the camp.

Maybe, just maybe, you could wake the group now. Maybe you could have some help and maybe you wouldn’t be alone-

A twig snapped.

Your hand tightened around The Master Sword’s handle in an instant, clutching at her cool surface with an ice cold fear climbing up the expanse of your gut to travel to the depths of your chest. There had been nothing, not a single thing and now something other than you had broken the silence. Would a monster be so still? Be so quiet, so calculated as it possibly stalked you in these moments of solitude.

Was it Dink?

A shiver ran up your back at the feeling of eyes casting upon it. The cold chill digging deeper into your spine when footsteps grew heavy behind you as whatever it was got closer.

Your eyes fell close in uncertainty. It wasn’t real. This was a nightmare. You were back in your bedroll. Experiencing a nightmare.

Though everything was all too real to be just that.

Fi pulsed. Be it a warning or reassurance, you weren’t quite sure. Her sounds did not bring solace as you fought the fear within your heart to escape whatever approached you. You hated the four reactions, why did there need to be four? Why did you need to fight? What did you need to fly? Why did you need to fawn- why did you need to freeze?

The footsteps finally stopped behind you and the presence was large. Your animal instincts tossing about visions of a monster of slender or a creature with rows of teeth, with eerie black eyes, with a too wide of grin. You couldn’t quite fathom what exactly was behind you and you really didn’t want to.

But after a moment and a shaky breath you spun around with Fi at the ready.

Blood. There was blood. There was a lot of blood. The smell of copper finally rolling over in waves as you choked and spluttered at the overwhelming smell, eyes tearing from just how strong it seemed to be. It dripped to the floor and formed a small puddle beneath it as it just stood before you, watching, waiting as it just stared. Your light cast away, but you could see those glowing eyes of white glaring down at you from the darkness overhead.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to scream so bad.

But only a pathetic whimper could make it past your dry lips.

The armour, the cloth, the radiating aura of rage and those eyes…

Fierce Deity was silent.

Fierce Deity was still.

And Fierce Deity was violent.

One step, two steps, you backed up slowly not willing to break the spell cast between you. You didn’t want to encounter the power that so easily rolled off him, scared for what kind of consequences what befall you if his hands even grazed your skin- would he break your arms? Your legs? Would he snap your neck? Would he rip you apart? What would he do? What could he do?

Fierce Deity’s hand raised.

And you had decided you didn’t want to find out.

You ran. Like a coward, like a dog with it’s tail hidden between its legs, you turned tail and sprinted away. Instincts screaming, evolution running its course, you blasted through the bush with the only thoughts in your head being screams of anguish. Leaping over logs, ducking under branches, it was impressive just how much your body pushed its limits when you were truly and utterly afraid.

Dodging another tree your foot began to raise from the ground to take another step only to be caught by the weight of something and leaving you crashing towards the dirt blow you with a choked cry, face scratching against the sticks and leaves.

“Wha-” You thanked the heavens that clutching your phone with a death grip was relfex by now as you span around with that piercing gadget light. 

More blood. More copper. But this time there laid a body that stayed awfully still, the familiar light of royal blue sullied by crimson.

“Wars!” Scurrying to sit upright, you leaned over the injured man with more tears cornering your eyes. “Link, oh my fucking God, please-”

A deep, rattled breath made you yelp before relief flooded your system as you realised that he was still alive. “Oh Link, oh Christ, it’s okay-”

Fierce Deity stood just beside you. So large yet so silent, his giant height made bigger with your kneeled position as you looked upon him in horror. The blood which coated him was red, partnering the blood over your fallen comrade and leading your eyes the narrow with an understandable rage which lead to less understandable actions.

You raised Fi towards him. “Stay the fuck away from us!”

Silence.

Fierce Deity did not speak. 

Fi no longer hummed.

And Warriors only shook in pain just beneath you.

The god slowly leaned down and you hardened your gaze. “Fuck off!”

He paused and your heart beat pounded in your ears from fear.

Did you really just tell a war god to fuck off?

How the hell had you survived this long?

After no more words from you Fierce Deity continued until he was kneeled, face still place as the Master Sword’s sharp point pressed just against his temple as he observed you. No more movement, not a blink or a breath, Fierce just watched as the weight of the world grew heavier and heavier on your shoulders. What was he waiting for? Why did he stop?

You slowly dropped Fi, looking back into those eyes filled with bloodlust.

“...what do you want?”

Fierce tilted his head but did not break eye contact as he acted.

The god’s arms slowly moved under Warriors’ broken body, gentle and careful as the man hissed in pain even within the confines of his pained coma before he raised a knee and finally stood back to his full height. All while still keep that same, eerie eye contact.

He waited.

And waited.

…and waited.

Then when you finally stood, phone illuminating the forest with Fi staying quiet beside you, did Fierce Deity begin to move. Heavy footfalls, with the plants crunching beneath his boots, you watched as he moved in a random direction. With purpose but no prompt, he walked just a little before pausing once again and staring back at you, waiting.

One step, two step- you followed.

Making it back to camp was much faster than leaving it, the embers finally dead within the fire pit and the others still surrounding it, still slumbering away. You did not question the god about anything and instead went to work.

Relight the fire. Prepare a fairy or two. Clean and wrap any remaining wounds.

Fierce Deity was…obediant. Being a god, you expected him to shake you off or growl when you crossed any boundaries, but nope, he let you boss him around. Placing Wars where you demanded, kept him still when the fairies tended to him (Gilda was off with others sisters but the fairies promised to have her return for the extra help) held him up as you wrapped his chest and laid him down gently in his bedroll, watching as you tucked him in carefully.

The blood was gone now. Both from Warriors and from the god. You weren’t sure how exactly the blood had disappeared from the skin and you wondered if he had somehow absorbed the liquid, a disgruntled shiver wracking through you.

“Hope they wake up soon…” Glancing over the group again, you worried hard over each and everyone one before you turned back towards the giant, his eyes still trained on you. “...sorry for shouting at you earlier.”

He tiled his head- you wondered if he liked to do that.

“And thank you for helping me with Wars- hopefully he’s gonna be okay…” You deflated, “Hyrule usually does the healing, I don’t know anything about medical care. You probably know that though.”

Still no words. Fierce probably couldn’t talk.

Or just didn’t want to, for what would a war god need to say?

“...Time’s okay too, yeah?” He narrowed his eyes a little but you didn’t back down, fighting back wetting yourself on the spot. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m concerned.”

When a few moments of more silence passed you sighed, laying back in your bedroll. “Whatever.”

You were tired. Really tired and lying here wasn’t really helping. You needed to stay up, after all, you needed to make sure they everyone was safe while slept away, unaware of anything.

Your eyelids fluttered, fighting back sleep.

Fierce’s hand moved to gently pull the covers over your body, the shock in your system overshadowed by the fatigue slowly making it’s way through you.

“Sleep.” Only a single word, distorted yet familiar as it reached your ears.

You welcomed this darkness with open arms.

[buggybambi]

So glad you're back!! Would you ever consider writing for Carmy x Richie's younger sister again?? I had an idea (if you want to write it, please dont overwhelm yourself) where reader and Carmen are fighting while reader is pregnant with their first baby and Carmen says something kinda mean to her and then she goes into laboro unexpectedly?! And seeing how Richie would react to that and be so defensive of his little sister 🥹

hi love! hope this is okay :) | fem!reader, mentions of a hospital, nicu stay/labor

You know he didn't mean it. Calling you stupid for showing up to the Bear that day when there was tools laying about, too many unknown people being around. He was just a worried soon-to-be dad, but that didn't make it easier.

Carmen was always protective over you, and now that you two had a baby on the way, it heightened. He was already on edge with the amount of repairs being done that day in the Bear, and the hazardous scene the restaraunt was in. He was just stressed out and took it out on you, like an idiot.

You didn't stick around to hear his apology after the words slipped out of his mouth. "Why are you being so difficult about this!? Showing up here was fucking stupid of you!" Nat took you outside to get you both away from each other, give you both some space to breathe. You could hear Carmen leave the restaraunt, disappearing to who knows where.

You sigh as you lean against the fence outside, gripping it with one hand. "He didn't mean it, it's just- there's been a lot happening today. Like a lot. Our fridge guy couldn't come and then a health inspection." Nat tried to explain. You were barely listening as your eyes squeezed shut. The pain in your abdomen and back you'd been briefly experiencing for the past few minutes had subsided as you let out an exhale. Syd stepped out at the same time.

"Hey, woah, you alright?" She asks. "Yeah, yeah sorry. Just Braxton Hicks. They just haven't been this intense." You answer. Syd stares at you both before clearing her throat. "I think your water just broke." She says.

You stare at her for a second, almost laughing. "Funny, Syd, but this isn't the time-" You look down and realize she's right. Your water just broke. "No, no, no it's too soon. We don't.. Carmen has to be here. You say, your voice filled with panic.

"Honey, I don't think you have a choice. Let's go to the hospital, okay? Syd, call Richie and Carmen, tell them to meet us at Chicago West." Nat takes your hand, helping you walk around the corner to her car, where she proceeds to break more then a few traffic laws.

"Who the fuck are you to talk to my sister like that?" Richie demands. The two were going back and forth after Carmen got back to the restaraunt. "Richie, I'm not fucking doing this with you right now." Carmen argues.

Syd walks in, exhaling. "Do either of you check your phones?!" She asks. "I don't know, he's a dumbass." Richie comments as Carmen rolls his eyes.

"Mine's.." Carmen frantically searches his pockets. "It must be in my office. What's the matter?" He asks. Syd frowns. "Y/n went into labor outside, Nat took her to Chicago West. I've been trying to call you to get you there before you miss the birth."

Carmen's already out the door by the time she finishes talking.

────

"If Carmen misses this, I'm going to kill him." Nat comments as she puts a pillow under your back for support. You sigh, laying back. The room is mostly quiet, except for the beeping of equipment. Monitoring your heartrate, your baby's heartrate, your contractions. It feels surreal to watch them increase and decrease with spikes on the monitor.

"He won't miss this. He'll be here." You say, your voice laced with doubt. You knew if Sydney had gotten ahold of Carmen, he'd be speeding to the hospital. Your doctor had been trying to push back your labor as much as she can, but you knew you were about to start pushing soon.

"I really hope you're right. I'm gonna go get you more ice chips." She says, stepping out of the room. You stare at the heartbeat monitors before you hear a small knock on the door. You turn to find Carmen in the doorway. "Hi." He says softly.

You smile. "Hey. Nice of you to drop by." You say, waiting for him to come over to you. When he doesn't immediately, you hold your hand out for him. He practically runs, taking it. "I'm so sorry. For not being here and for what I said. I shouldn't have- you didn't deserve that."

You shake your head. "Carm, you're here now. I'm glad you are. I love your sister but she is not a good birthing coach." She comments as he laughs.

He presses a kiss to your head. "I'm here now." He says. You squeeze his hand lightly. "I know you are, Carmy." Nat smiles as she returns. "Good, you get to live. Here are your ice chips. Best of luck." She wishes, placing a kiss on your cheek.

You smile. "Thanks for being so helpful, Nat."

────

Within the next half hour, your baby boy was in the world. Laying on your chest, his tiny hand wrapped around Carmen's finger. "He's so perfect." Carmen whispers, his voice filled with such fondness.

You two decided on a name: Theodore "Teddy" Berzatto. He was perfect to you two. Your own little boy, your son.

Richie and the rest of the staff came by the hospital. You swooned over your big brother getting to hold your little boy. "He looks just like dad." Richie admits quietly. You nod. "He does. Looks like dad and Mikey." Carmen agrees.

Your son couldn't have been surrounded with more love.

[anyxis]

One of the ships I just love in Twst is JamiKali, but I also understand that it can’t happen right now. I feel like there really is only two ways it could happen. Either Jamil heals and realises that Kalim was never the problem, but the adults around them are. Or, something big happens that separates them and Jamil realises how much Kalim actually means to him. Of course, that would come with a terrible amount of angst but well… that’s life!

So, I have two scenarios I really like about the second option. The first one is that Kalim changes school of his own accord. He decides that, instead of finishing his studies at NRC, he will do his last two years at the school in the Scalding Sands. That way, he gives Jamil what he wants, meaning the space to show his true abilities and the housewarden title. If anyone asked, he would say it’s because being so far away made it kind of hard to make his official introduction in his families’ business. He needed to be more present both with the clients/business partners and the decision making. It was the final necessary step in order to take over after his father and being at home would make it all the easier. So, while it would be hard to be away from Jamil, he would still be at peace with the decision, knowing (or at least thinking) he was doing what was best for his friend.

I just wonder how Jamil would react. Would he be pissed that Kalim just gave it to him so easily? Or would he be upset that Kalim left him? His whole life revolves around that boy so would he be kind of lost? Now that he doesn’t have to look after him so much, what does he do with his free time? And, wether he likes it or not, he didn’t have any other friend since he didn’t have the time. Would he even know how to proceed to making friends or would he be awkward at opening up to others?

The other option is a lot worse. I guess it’s also really crazy but… let’s roll with it.

What if Kalim decides to make a much more drastic decision? Instead of changing school, he orchestrates a whole ass kidnapping and disappears into the wild, never to be seen again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Azul had contacts that could get Kalim off the island safely. Idia would be the one to create his new identity along with Ortho. Of course, the ‘kidnappers’ would be Lilia and Rook. They would even go as far as attacking Jamil so that it looks like he actually tried to save Kalim. This would be made so that no one gets blamed by his family for the heir’s kidnapping. This way, Kalim wouldn’t be a burden for anyone anymore, because, even if he looks happy-go-lucky, I’m pretty sure he knows how much trouble everyone goes through every time he travels just to ensure his safety. And, after the OB incident with Jamil, I feel like he would feel even worse about himself, realising how miserable he made his friend. So he would just make himself disappear, take himself out of the equation.

I’m curious at how Jamil would feel with this one. After all, NRC is supposed to be one of the safest place there is for Kalim, what with the magic shield around the school and Scarabia being inside a pocket dimension. And, yet, somehow, he wakes up in the middle of the night, hearing Kalim scream bloody murder and call for help. When he gets to his room though, it’s already too late. Kalim is unconscious and the two kidnappers are already leaving. This would be when Lilia attacks Jamil since Rook is the one holding Kalim. He wouldn’t make it mortal at all, the important is to injure him enough to ensure he wouldn’t be blamed and that he wouldn’t be able to follow them.

Anyway… what are your thoughts? I just wanted to share those two ideas about KaliJami. Obviously, years after those events (two for the first one and I don’t know for the second one), they would reunite and start anew. This time, they would really be friends and their buried, repressed feelings for one another wouldn’t take time to resurface. And they would become a couple and live happily ever after.

The end~

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 29

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, violence, blood, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

“I should go,” you get up as Cole comes back in the back office, “I’m so sorry about today–”

“Go? Where?” He asks as he stands in the door. “Back to that maniac?”

“Well, I…” you swallow and let out an exasperated sigh, “yeah, I have to–”

“You don’t have to,” he insists, “you shouldn’t. Someone that angry can be pretty dangerous.”

“I know, it’s just–” you have no argument, no excuse, just the truth, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You don’t?” He wonders.

You shake your head and grab your jacket from the rack, “I’ll be fine. I’m sure he’s calmed down. I shouldn’t have lied–”

“But you did. For a reason. If that’s how he reacts… you never mentioned a boyfriend,” Cole shifts on his soles.

“Boyfriend?” You almost laugh, “no, not exactly.”

“It’s complicated, got it,” he nods, “well, you were wrong, you know?”

“About what?” You take your pure of a lower hook on the rack.

“That you don’t have anywhere to go. I’m just putting it out there,” he raises a hand to rub the stubble along his jaw, “if you need somewhere to stay, er, my parents’ could spare a guest room.”

“Oh, Cole, no, I couldn’t. That’s too much. I’d hate to impose on your family like that.”

“Uh, you definitely wouldn’t be. My mom would love to meet you,” he lets himself smile, “I brought home some of the extra treats and she loved them. She’s a baker too.”

“That’s— that’s sweet,” you shrug and look away, “I just don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if it wasn’t,” he insists, “but I really don’t feel great about you going back to a man like that. I’m big enough to defend myself, but you…”

You know he’s right. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen Lloyd get violent and just like with Johnny, it’s only inevitable that it turns on you. You’re not exactly excited to go back to that house.

“All my stuff…” you begin, arguing with yourself as much as him.

“My ma has some stuff she can lend you for the night,” he offers, “as long as you don’t mind flannel. And I’m sure you could use a nice warm meal.”

“Cole,” you rub along your jaw evasively as you look away, “I just… I feel so bad about putting you out. Your parents too.”

“You’re not. You know, I think you surround yourself with the wrong people. The sort that make kindness seem like a debt to be paid back. You don’t owe me anything. I’m just being decent, like anyone should,” He turns his hands out. “But if you say no, I’m not letting you walk out of her without my phone number. And you have to promise to call me if anything goes bad.”

You frown and look at your feet. Lloyd could use the night to cool off just as much as you. You cross your arms then force them straight. He’s entirely right. You’re letting all those others people who bargain courtesy like currency colour your doubts. Why should you begrudge him the action of others when he’s only ever been nice?

“Did you ask your parents? I don’t want to be a surprise,” you chew your lip.

He smiles, “I texted ma but I’ll give a call before we go. Trust me, you’re more than welcome.”

☕

The drive is longer than you expect, but not. You should’ve figured that the farm would be out in the country. At the same time, you never factored in the time it must take Cole to commute each day. It whittles another ounce of appreciation out of you. He seems too kind for his own good.

That generosity sees you in his passenger seat. You left your car behind at the cafe to save you gas and the trouble of driving. You didn’t fight too hard. You want to be in one place and still.

He steers down a long dirt road and as the moon disappears behind a thicket of trees, the land turns desolate. Your chest sinks just a little but as the silver light breaks free again, you let out a breath of relief. Ahead you see the yellow windows of the farmhouse and dark colossus of the barn not far behind it.

Cole pulls up behind a big red truck and shifts into park. The motor cranks slightly before he turns it off. You can’t help but wonder how someone like him came to own a cafe in the city. Maybe after so long in the rural desert, the urban sprawl must be alluring chaotic.

He gets out first before you muster your strength. He comes around, startling you as he opens the door for you. You thank him, the gentlemanly gesture almost jarring. You’re so unused to kindness, it unsettles you. That should tell you something. It’s a ringing cry for change.

“Are you sure…” you begin the same question you’ve asked every five minutes for the last hour.

“Sure,” he interjects firmly, “really, ma always cooks too much and my sister’s off finding herself. Again. She’ll be happy to have you around.”

You nod and climb up the wide porch steps beside him. He pulls back the screen door and waves you in ahead of him. A fragrant aroma draws you in; roast beef and roasted veggies. The homey glow embraces you, welcoming you without a word.

“Here,” he tugs on the back of your jacket, “I’ll get this.”

He hangs his own coat as you undo yours and hand it over. He puts it over his own then beckons you on. Hesitantly, you follow his direction, walking down a walnut trimmed hallway to a dining room decorated in faded florals and pine.

“Ethan,” a woman calls through before she appears in the doorway across from you, a large dimpled glass dish in her hands, “oh! I thought you were your father– eee! This must be her.”

She rushes to the table and sets the steaming dish on a potholder. She still has her oven gloves as she sweeps around the room, “Beverly,” she introduces herself, pulling you into a hug, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Uh,” you gulp as she squeezes you, only releasing you as Cole clears his throat. “I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

“Really?” She nearly squeals, keeping you at arm’s length, “he didn’t say you were so pretty.”

Your eyes round and you let out a nervous giggle. Cole groans under his breath and brushes his hand over his sandy hair. It’s kind of cute when your own parents were never so excited to see you.

“Thanks, that’s too sweet,” you smile, “erm, thanks for having me.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” she titters as she lets you go, “Cole always had a soft spot for those in need.” She turns to him and touches where his cheekbone is still red from his scuffle with Lloyd, “and look at him, my knight in shining armor. How many times do I have to tell you not to fight? You never were very good at it.”

“Ma,” he urges her away from him, “I’m fine.”

A ding chimes from the kitchen and she springs back, “oh, that’s the dumplings.”

She spins and hurries off, leaving you off balance. You slowly face Cole and put your hands on your hips, “so how much did you tell her?”

“As much as I know,” he rubs his neck sheepishly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want her to freak out when she saw my face and– it wasn’t anything that makes you look bad.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I don’t want to be a charity case,” you cross your arms.

“Trust me, you’re far from it,” he assures you, “really. I want you here.”

You don’t know what to say. You don’t trust your own judgment. Whether he means it or not, it hardly matters. You’re just grateful to have a night away from it all. Some time might be just what Lloyd needs to grow some common sense.

[mouwrites]

Creepypasta/MH - How They’d Ask You Out

Characters: Eyeless Jack, Nina the Killer, Clockwork, Jane the Killer, Tim/Masky, Brian/Hoody

Eyeless Jack

I don’t think it would take him too long to ask out someone he liked

As long as he was sure that he really did like them, and that they didn’t hate him or anything, he’d be comfortable at least asking

He would bring flowers for sure

He’d show up at your door late at night, bouquet in hand

“Would you care to join me for a walk?”

You’d stroll through the woods, talking a bit about yourselves

It’d be a pretty deep conversation, both of you staying serious as you exposed vulnerable parts of yourselves

He’d hint at being romantically interested in you, but he’d wait until you were back at your house to pop the question

“You’ve probably noticed by now, but I really do think you’re amazing. I’d love it if you’d be my partner.”

If you say yes he’ll be absolutely radiating joy and he’ll promise to treat you well before bidding you goodnight

If you say no he’ll understand, thank you for your time anyway, and disappear into the night

He’s okay staying friends, but he’ll be sad about it for a while

Still, your companionship is more important to him than being yours

Nina the Killer

It won’t take long at all for her to ask out someone she’s interested in

As soon as she knows she can trust them, she’ll go for it

She’ll use something homemade to actually ask the question

Like a kandi bracelet that says “be mine?”

Or maybe a cake she baked herself

Either way it’s bound to be something decorative made with lots of love

She’ll find you at school/work/home and tell you she has something to show you

She smiles hugely when she reveals her little project, but inside she’s buzzing with anxiety

“So..? What do you say?”

If you agree she’ll literally drop whatever she’s made and throw her arms around you

She will proceed to take you out shopping to buy something to commemorate the occasion

Matching shirts, bracelets, a new piercing, maybe even a pizza to share

Just a little something to celebrate :)

If you say no she’ll be devastated

“Oh… well, thanks anyway…”

She probably won’t talk to you for a while, if ever again

Clockwork

She’d have to know you for a VERY long time beforehand

She has trouble trusting people, as well as trouble finding someone she’s genuinely interested in romantically

You’d know pretty much everything about each other by the time she decides to ask you out

That just means that she knows the way to your heart though

She’ll make a beautiful sketch of you

Maybe there’s some gore incorporated, but hey, if you’ve stuck with her this long you’ll be used to it

You’ll be hanging out one day, her drawing and you distracted by something else, and she’ll suddenly tear a page from her sketchbook

She hands you the drawing while saying:

“Hey, Y/n, so… I really like you. You’re my dream partner. I want you by my side always.”

If you agree to be her partner, she’ll grin, turning back to her sketchbook with a little pinkness on her cheeks as she mumbles “cool”

When you leave she’ll peck your cheek before slamming the door in your face, giddy that she had the courage to do that

If you reject her, she’ll frown

Probably won’t want to be friends anymore :(

She just doesn’t want to be around someone she loves knowing they don’t love her back

Jane the Killer

I think it depends on the person when it comes to Jane

If you guys click really well, she’ll probably try to advance the relationship quicker than if your relationship started off rocky

But either way she’s going to plan something romantic

She’ll buy you something nice and deliver it in secret

Like, one day you’ll just find a box of chocolates or a necklace with a note attached telling you to meet her someplace

Personally I like to think it’d be a blossoming cherry tree, or perhaps a scenic overlook

You’ll find her there waiting for you, hands fidgeting nervously behind her back

She’ll get straight to the point:

“Y/n, I like you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but if you do… wanna be my girlfriend?”

If you accept, she’ll get a huge smile and run over to you, throwing her arms around you and twirling you around

You’ll sit together at the scenic location for a while, leaning on each other with your fingers intertwined

If you decline, she’ll just nod with a sad smile

She’ll be sad for a while, but ultimately she’s got other things in her life to worry about, so I don’t think she’ll wallow for too long

Might keep talking to you, might not; again, it really depends with her

Tim/Masky

Another one who’d have to know you a while first

He needs to make sure he trusts you, yes, but he also needs to start trusting himself around you

Once he’s sure that you can both handle yourselves, he’ll take more time to hype himself up to do it

He questions bitterly whether you’d even accept if he did ask you out

Eventually he gets so exhausted from the constant will they/won’t they in his head that he spontaneously blurts out:

“Do you want to go out with me?”

You’ll be taken aback; you guys were literally just chilling in silence

Plus he would’ve given next to no hints that he liked you at all

If you accept, he’ll sigh, slouching severely in relief

Finally some peace of mind… and heart

He’ll murmur a thank you for giving him this peace, but won’t elaborate

If you decline, he’s going to beat himself up about it so hard

He won’t blame you at all; no, every ounce of blame is going into the anvil that he’s crushing himself with

Probably won’t want to keep contact for much longer

Your presence is just a constant reminder of (what he sees as) his failure

Brian/Hoody

He didn’t know you for too long before deciding to ask you out, but he knew a lot about you

If he’s interested in you, he’s going to find out everything he can

He prefers outside sources, but if he absolutely cannot find something he wants to know, he’ll begrudgingly just ask you

That being said, he knows how to charm you

He’s a pretty naturally charming person regardless, but he wants to do something special just for you

He’d leave a gift for you; something he knows you love

Jewelry with your favorite gemstone, your favorite flowers, a nice new fluffy blanket… something on the luxurious side

Plus a note saying:

“Y/n, please be mine. With love, Brian”

He’ll approach you later and ask for your response

If you agree, he’s got a whole nice evening planned out already, and he’s more than eager to take you on this first date

If you decline, he’ll probably “cut contact”

I use quotations because he’ll probably still keep tabs on you in secret for a while

He’ll get over it eventually, but until he does that’s his way of coping

Thank you for reading!! Take care of yourselves pumpkins <33

(divider by saradika)

[nobodywritingao3]

unnamed monster & caretaker au

Tasked with feeding and caring for the king's resident monster, Tommy is constantly overworked and fully expects to die before he's twenty. He has an odd relationship with the beast and makes it a point to keep details about himself private, but it's difficult when the creature is the closest thing in the world he has to a friend.

wordcount: 2.3k 🕸 read it on AO3

CW: - hard vore mention - soft vore mention - mentioned abuse and dehumanization

‼️‼️‼️ Unfinished, unedited one shot. Proceed with caution

@gracideaviolet sent me a writing prompt and this is what i originally wrote for it. i like the concept but i wrote this at a not-good time and when i reread it, i didnt like the quality enough to fix it. if you like this story, let me know cuz that might give me motivation to properly finish this thing. feel free to take the idea but please credit and send it to me cuz i like this story and wanna see what someone else does with it

Tommy finished loading the cart and took a second to breathe.

He heard the beast shifting around in the dark. "Are you doing okay out there, Sunshine?"

Despite his tiredness, the sweet nickname made him smile.

"You know you eat a lot? It's a pain in the ass to load myself."

He meant it as a joke but silence hung in the air a second longer than it should have.

He cleared his throat. "I don't mind it. I'm compensated."

The beast snorted. "Not enough."

Tommy laughed awkwardly and didn't say anything.

He walked over to the control panel and started up the track.

The cart was big enough to fit a barn, and filled to the brim with various livestock, prisoners of war, and whoever else might have found themselves on the king's hit-list. Nothing sent to the monster was alive. It was a point the monster whined about a lot, but Tommy much preferred it that way. It was already disgusting having to spend hours upon hours piling the cart with bloody meat (sometimes human!) by himself, and the day he was handed a living person would be the day he faked his death and fled the kingdom.

He pressed a few buttons, tried not to cut himself on several rusty levers, and the rail obediently started itself up with a few revs and puffs.

The beast hummed contentedly at the noise.

The cart began to run along the track, disappearing from his view and descending into the inky black cave. He heard the gate creak open and he heard it creak close. And then he heard the beast begin to eat.

They weren't nice sounds by any stretch of the imagination - ugly rips and wet squelches of flesh - but Tommy had been at the job for a while and was long used to it. He settled in and waited for the creature to finish its meal.

"So how was your day, Keeper?"

Tommy hummed. "About the same as it always is. My master told me that the king will be coming in soon for a performance review, but I've no idea when that might be."

The beast paused its munching before hesitantly starting again a moment later. "I - why?"

He shrugged, assuming the monster could see him from the dark. "Something about me holding down this job the longest out of anyone before."

"Hm."

"I don't understand why that would intrigue the king. And no offense to you personally - "

"Uh huh," the monster sarcastically interjected -

" - but this isn't exactly the career path I'd have chosen. If I knew how to transfer I probably would have. Honestly - I have no idea how the others could have quit this job. I was under the impression that this is the sort of thing you do until you die."

It laughed at that.

Tommy sighed.

He was quiet for a few moments, a question sitting heavy on his tongue.

He shouldn't ask. It's impolite.

The monster shifted around. "Spit it out."

He gave the darkness an accusatory look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

There was a huff of laughter. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're doing that thing where you want to say something but are worried about what I'll think. It would be adorable if I wasn't desperate for decent conversation."

"Fuck you." He said it with a smile.

"Well? Are you going to say or not?"

He scrubbed at his face. Fuck it. "What were your other keepers like?"

The beast went silent for several long moments.

Shit. "You don't have to answer if you - "

"I didn't much care for them."

Tommy didn't say a word.

"The feeling was mutual." It sighed heavily. "You're a much better replacement, Sunshine."

"I'm sorry for asking."

The beast purred. "Don't be, dear. I pressed you. And I don't mind answering." It jostled the cart. "And I'm done eating."

Tommy nodded and powered up the control panel again. The cart began to recede. 

It appeared from the darkness, picked completely clean and shiny as if it never been covered in blood at all.

It scared him a little, how quickly the monster could eat such a large amount, but he dismissed those thoughts as easily as they came. When would that ever affect him?

He checked the clock. He still had a few hours before he had to report back. "Do you mind if I stay with you longer?"

The monster laughed conspiratorially. "Oh, but that's against the rules," it said in a high mockery of his voice.

He flushed.

He had been terrified of the monster when they first met. He gave any excuse to leave the beast as soon as he could, including that the rules specified that spending unnecessary time with it was prohibited. That was true, but no one would have known if he chose to linger. In hindsight, it had been terribly obvious how afraid he was and he's only embarrassed that the monster pretended to believe him.

"You're the worst."

"And you still want to spend time with me?"

Tommy blew a raspberry at the darkness, earning a few laughs.

It was comfortably quiet for a few seconds before the monster spoke again. "Why are you curious about my old keepers?"

He tugged at his fingers. "Do you know how I ended up here?"

"You never talk about it."

He frowned. "And I never will," he responded coldly. It never gave up asking. "But do you know, generally, how someone ends up working this kind of job?"

The monster was quiet. "Yes."

Tommy didn't say anything for a minute. "The king is very angry with me. I don't want to see him again. However the other keepers escaped..." He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying. If the king requests an audience with me, it isn't for any good reason."

~

When the king acquired his monster, he hired out help to feed the thing and keep it under control. He made sure the beast ate lavishly, but now matter what they fed it, it never seemed like to satiate the creature. But it hadn't died of starvation and that was good enough. When its caretakers started to disappear, it wasn't difficult to guess what happened.

But acknowledging the problem would mean addressing it too, and the king simply didn't care. In the end, he realized he had the perfect way to quietly do away with those he needed gone. He sourced this job, with its one hundred percent rate of 'job abandonment' to political adversaries or people growing affluent enough to take his throne.

Which takes him to the present day, and a rather interesting problem.

When some servant boy had spilled a bottle of red wine down his front during a gala several years prior, the king had been so angry that he threw the child in a dungeon and left him there. When the monster's then-keeper inevitably disappeared, the king came to the boy and grimly informed him of his punishment.

He hadn't expected the child to last more than a couple of days. He'd even picked out his replacements.

But lo and behold, the boy remained present at his job post for a week. And then that week became several, and those several became months, and those months became a year and a half.

The king couldn't understand why it hadn't eaten him yet. He was fifteen at this point, certainly the youngest to feed the monster. Was it waiting for him to grow up? Did it want to watch him sprout up before it made its attack? It was perfectly sentient, and the king knew this even though he denied it upfront. Shouldn't the monster trust that the sooner it finished its current keeper, the sooner he would be replaced by another?

Had there been someone who had managed to bring this creature to subservience? If so, then the king took special interest.

And if not, then it was long overdue that the servant boy be put to death.

~

Being a human's lapdog wasn't a dignified experience, but it was a fed one. Driders were megafauna, making it hard to get enough food. It certainly didn't help that the human kingdom believed everything was its rightful property and saw driders as a threat to them owning more than they could eat.

Wilbur certainly didn't enjoy his life, and he was almost always hungry anyway, but at least he was alive.

He lived in a dungeon below the castle, but he wasn't sure what a castle was and he barely understood the concept of a dungeon. He hadn't seen the sunshine in years, and his keeper was his only company.

He liked his keeper. The boy was kind. He didn't threaten to pee in Wilbur's food or throw rocks at him. He asked him how his day was, and even made it a point to handle the meat carefully as he transported it into the cart. He seemed lonely, and made up excuses to stay. He was a cute little thing, and Wilbur wanted to stick him into his brooding pouch and keep him there.

~

The cart rolled into Wilbur's enclosure, and he greedily snatched it up and began to eat.

His keeper sat at a table in the light.

Wilbur finished his food in a few seconds and toyed with the cart. He always made it seem as if it took him longer to eat than it did.

"Do you have a family?"

The boy froze at the question. "Why do you ask?"

Wilbur pouted even though he knew he couldn't be seen. "We've known each for so long. I don't even know what your name is. Can't I know just a little?"

His keeper awkwardly laughed, fidgeting with his fingers. "Oh... I guess you're right."

Wilbur's heart leapt.

"I don't have a family."

"Oh." Shit.

"Yeah."

What was he supposed to say?

"I don't have a family either."

His keeper peered into the darkness. "What are you?"

Wilbur smiled. He skittered to the bars of his cage and leaned against them, towering over the boy, though he had no idea. "Would you like to play twenty questions?"

"You're so lame, seriously, what are you? I don't even know what you look like."

I could show you, he wanted to say.

Coming out of his cage was easy. The king assumed it could hold him but no one actually checked. And aside from his keeper, no one had been in his dungeon for years. In reality, the bars had long been bent open and Wilbur could get out whenever he pleased.

It wouldn't be difficult to come through the bars and present himself to his keeper. Pick the little figure up in his hands and take him into his cage with him.

When he'd eaten his previous keepers, they'd always been replaced. If he captured his current keeper and stored him away in his brooding pouch, then he'd never be lonely again.

It was tempting.

"That's probably for the best," he said. He stepped away from the bars of his cage and curled up on the floor.

He liked his keeper. He wanted him to be happy. Just because Wilbur was stuck in a cage didn't mean he had to be as well.

"Do you think I'd be scared of you?"

Wilbur looked down at himself, at his large stature and eight legs. His fangs came down to his mid chin. "I think you'd be terrified, dear."

His keeper smiled. "I don't think so. I have a suspicion that you're just harmless."

His heart melted. Oh stars, he wanted to eat this kid.

He massaged his aching brood pouch. "You're sweet, Sunshine."

~

The cart was left in his cage while he was sleeping. He woke up confused, spying it in the corner of his enclosure and wondered why he'd been fed overnight. Where was his keeper? His mind jumped to the worst conclusions.

He found him inside the cart. Bound and gagged and looking terrified beyond all reason.

"Oh, Sunshine," he murmured.

His words had the opposite intended effect, his keeper starting to panic and writhe at the sound of his voice.

"Hey, hey... Calm down, okay? I'll get you out of there." He reached into the cart and picked him up in his hand.

Despite the circumstance, his heart soared. This was the closest they'd ever been.

The figure was tiny in his palm, and still struggling.

Wilbur quickly undid his bounds, being mindful of his sharp claws against the human's body. As soon as his hands were free, he was clawing at the gag around his mouth.

"Don't eat me! Please, do not eat me..."

Wilbur's stomach dropped.

"What? Sunshine, why would I eat you?"

The boy continued to sob.

Wilbur cupped him to his chest and headed towards the bars of his enclosure. He expertly clambered through and came out the other side, his skin exposed to the light for the first time in more than a year.

"Dear? Can you talk to me?" He stroked his head with his thumb and brought him eye level. "Why were you in my feeding cart?"

His keeper stared at him in shock, and it was then that he remembered his keeper had never truly seen him before.

A hot wave of embarassment and self consciousness overtook him.

He awkwardly set his little human on his table and receded back into his enclosure.

"Sunshine?" He prompted once back in his cage. "Are you..."

"Could - could you get out the whole time?"

Wilbur's mouth went dry. "I - well, yes, I could but - "

His keeper stumbled off the table and hit the ground with a nasty sounding crack.

Wilbur sprang to his claws and scrambled forward. He popped his head out between the bars and stared down at his little keeper. "Are you okay?"

The human stared up at him with terror on his face and scrambled backwards, running for the door.

"Shit, shit, wait, I'm sorry! Please stay, please, Sunshine - "

The door slammed behind him with a resounding crack and Wilbur flinched backwards.

~ ~ ~ 🕸

i used to love drider aus back in 2020 🕷️🕷️🕷️

just a freaky little guy whose half dude and half Fear. potential off the charts.

my tag list got lost when my computer was annihilated (</3) but let me know in replies if you want to get @'d and i'll make a new one

oh yeah link to the writing prompt and story i did fill out

[f1bordeaux]

If You Cared (part 2) | mv1

It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened. Warnings: None Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader Word count: 2.2+k Poetry style | Story style A/n: Here is part 2! The angst literally hasn't began yet there is so much more to come you might hate me by the end of this lol srry ;) Also! If you want to be tagged in future parts, let me know! Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five

“How are you feeling?”

You don’t turn around, already aware of who is speaking to you. Instead, you remain sat on the edge of the pool, feet lightly swinging through the water. There is a lot of noise coming from the house, people talking, laughing, sharing a drink or two. Outside, however, it is quiet. The comotion becomes a background noise that is masked by the chirping of crickets and the ocean waves only a few kilometers away. It is calm, it is dark, it is peaceful.

Mia sat down next to you, keeping her knees tucked into her chest. “I’m fine.” You say.

“Dinner was-”

“Tense.” You answer for her. And it was. Dinner was a never ending slew of compliments to Max, your family praising him and his family bragging about him. Did he deserve the comments made towards him? Absolutely. He was a phenomenal driver, something you couldn’t even deny. Max knew what he was doing on the track like it was second nature. Maybe it was second nature to him. But, all you could think about was the boy who left you. The boy who turned his back so quickly that he couldn’t even hear you cry. The boy who took everything from you just to disappear a few years later.

“Yeah.” Mia said. “Tense.”

Silence came quickly after that, the two of you just taking in the atmosphere around you. The sun had long set, the heat had long gone. The pool lights casted a turquoise glow over the backyard. It was beautiful. You remembered running across the tiles as a kid, jumping into the pool at late hours of the night. Max and you would be playing together and Mia and Victoria would be on their own. Life was good then. Life was simple.

The patio door slid open, unbeknown to you. Mia turned to look, however, eyes going wide when she saw who it was. With her lips flattened to a line, she rested a hand on your shoulder before standing up. “Try not to ruin your own summer, y/n.”

With that she was gone, her body being replaced by another. “Care if I sit with you?”

Again, you knew the voice before you saw the face. Max lowered himself to the ground, sticking his feet in the water right next to you. He was so close that if you moved over, just an inch, your thigh would be flush against his. You wonder if he’s just as warm as he used to be. You wonder if his skin feels just as soft as it once had. You think of a lot of things as Max kicks his feet through the water.

“We haven't had a chance to talk-”

“Since you left?”

He sniffles, leaning back on his palms. “I was going to say since I got here.”

“That works too.” You say. There are two ways to proceed. You can either cause a huge comotion, letting him know that-hey, maybe you were not over him. Maybe you still envied him for making you fall in love with him and then disappearing off the face of the earth. Maybe you guys could have made it work but he didn’t even bother trying. Or, you could do as you told yourself a week ago and move on. Let yourself have a good summer. Let the hurt come in waves but dont show it. Maybe you can outgrow it this year. “How was your flight?”

He looks at you, almost confused-like. It wasn’t what he was expecting you to say. “Uh, good. The Florence airport was packed but once we got over here everything was fine.”

You nod, looking down at the water. “Good, good.”

“How’s work been? I hear you work at a museum in New York.”

“Yeah, the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

“Wow,” He shakes his head in approval. You don't need his approval, but you wonder what he really thinks of your job. Does he think you wasted your life? Does he think that your job is cool? At least you didn’t work at a McDonalds, right? “That sounds fancy. I can’t say I’ve been.”

“Have you ever been to New York in general?”

“No.”

You chuckle. It feels wrong to do so, but you can't help the small laugh that brushes past your lips. His dry humor is still intact you notice. What else is still the same about him? You haven’t heard him laugh yet, so you wonder if it sounds the same as before-boyish and cute. Does he still play FIFA like no tomorrow? Is his favorite color still blue?

“Do you remember jumping into the pool at like midnight as kids?” His hoarse voice cuts your train of thought in two. “Your mom would yell at us because she wanted to go to bed but now she had to make sure we showered.”

“I was just thinking about that earlier.” You want to slap yourself across the face as you say that sentence. You were thinking about him? There goes your ‘I dont give a fuck about him anymore’ deminer. 

But he smiles, exhaling through his nose as he turns to look at you. “Where’d the time go?”

“I wish I knew, Max.” You say, pulling your legs from the pool. Slowly, you walk to the back door, the orange glow from the inside light painting your skin shades of golds and browns. You look almost like an angel, like a God. Max notices it. Max notices a lot of things. “Goodnight.”

He sighs from behind you. “Goodnight, y/n.”

That night after a long, cold shower, you sit at the desk in your room, looking over the backyard and pool you had just conversed at. Your palm rests on a handle to one of the top drawers, and you fight yourself on whether or not to open it. You know what's in there. You know what you’re getting yourself into. But you don’t know if you want that pain or not. It was like Pandora’s box. If you got sucked in-which you knew was about to happen-there would be no escape. You would be heartbroken all over again.

Fuck it.

You pulled the drawer open, the contents shifting forward. There were photos-hundreds of photos-and two letters. There were two pens, a pink one and a blue one, there was a small fabric square, and there were a pair of glasses. Everything, save the photos, belonged to Max. The letters, you knew, would tear you apart to read. So, you pushed those aside, opting to pick up a small stack of photos. On the back in Sharpie ink they said, 2008. You and him were 10. Your birthday wasn’t until winter-his in fall only two months apart from yours.

Pulling the rubberband away, you studied the photos. You, Mia, Luca and Victoria in the pool. You, Max, Luca and Mia eating dinner at some restaurant. Max and Luca on bicycles. Victoria and you hugging on the beach. The sunset over the backyard. Max and you, lying together on the couch tucked underneath six or so blankets, fast asleep. His arm was around you, your cheeks pressed against one another. You smiled to yourself as you felt your throat closing up. “This sucks.” You whispered.

It did suck. You just simply couldn’t understand why Max didn’t want to try. It’s not like you guys were neighbors at the time. You only saw one another during the summer, but you were still friends during the rest of the year. Why would any of that change just because he was getting popular in driving? The only obvious reason was because he didn’t want you around. He didn’t want you. It could have worked if he would have tried. But he didn’t, so why should you spend your summer trying to mend the bridge he burned?

You threw all the photos back into the drawer, slamming it shut. You turned off the lamp desk and walked to your bed in the pitch black. Whatever was meant to happen, would happen. With or without Max.

-

“You’re sure you don't want to come?” Mia asks through your cracked open door. “Max-”

“She said no.” Luca pushes her aside, sticking his head in your room. Your attention was buried in your phone, mindlessly scrolling through some form of social media. You couldn’t see Luca’s childish grin or Mia’s worrying features. “I’ll bring you back some waffles or something, y/n.”

“Whatever, Luca.” You responded. He stuck his tongue out, making a spitting noise before slamming your door shut so hard you were afraid it would fall off the hinges. “Luca!”

It was far too early in the morning to be dealing with your little brother. Actually, it was never a good time to be dealing with your little brother. He’d woken you up, close to four am, to ask if you wanted to go grab breakfast and watch the sunset. You declined his offer, opting to stay in bed just a little longer. Plus, if everyone was going, Max was going. The last thing you wanted was to watch the sunrise with Max. So, you hid under the covers for a little longer, feeling the ceiling fan drag cold air on your exposed skin.

You heard the front door close from downstairs, a signal that you were finally alone. Slowly, you rose from your bed, taking long strides across the room. Just because you didn’t want to watch the sunset with everyone didn’t mean you wanted to miss out on it. There would be a perfect view from the backyard or from the beach only a quick walk away. You sombered through the house, a soft, chilling blue being cast through the windows. You loved this time of day, before the sun was up, before the heat settled into the ground, before the world was really active. It was so serene.

“Good morning.”

You paused at your spot on the base of the steps. Max stood in the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand. “You didn’t-why didn’t you-”

He shrugged as you struggled to speak. “I thought you were going. I didn’t want to bother.”

Guilt trip me, perfect. “Max, you shouldn’t base your itinerary on what I’m doing.” You said.

“So then why didn’t you go?”

“Fair point.”

He laughed, bringing his water to his lips. Yeah, you thought. He still has the same boyish laugh. “Come,” He said, holding his hand across the kitchen island. You stepped closer, although hesitantly. “Let's watch the sunrise and hash out whatever this is.”

Face your fears? Speak to Max about the problem at hand? Explain to him that you aren't over the loss of his presence in your life? Your stomach churned at the idea. Your stomach churned even more when you realized that you were only wearing a large tshirt and some underwear that was barely covered by the hem of the shirt. Instantly, your cheeks heated up, the back of your hand going to cool one side down. God you should have gone to breakfast.

Max raised his eyebrows, closing his hand before reopening it. “Well?”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” You said, grabbing a blanket before grabbing his hand. He knew you looked good-effortlessly good. You had just gotten out of bed and still you looked perfect. Your lips were plump, your eyelashes were so long and dark, your skin was glowing. He thought you looked better now than any dolled-up girl he’d met in Monaco. You looked so good just existing, but he didn’t think he’d be able to say that to your face.

The two of you walked outside, sitting in the patio chairs facing the ocean. He cleared his throat, turning to look at you as you draped the blanket over your legs. “I’m sorry.”

“Max-”

“You deserved better. I had no right to make you fall in love with me and then just go. I knew I’d leave so I should have never ruined what special bond you and I had. I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Your jaw was practically on the floor as he spoke. Where was this coming from? What prompted him to say this? “I-I’m speechless.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but can we have a few weeks that are similar to our childhood? Just me and you doing dumb stuff that we shouldn’t be doing? Making memories that we’ll tell people for decades?” He looks right into your eyes as he speaks, something he never really does. There is this soft sparkle in his eyes, this soft dazzling glow. He looks amazed, he looks taken aback. He looks so-pretty? God, the way his voice was dancing through your ears, the way his hair looked-still messy from getting out of bed-the way his hands fidgeted with one another, the way a faint blush dusted his cheeks-Max looked so desirable right now. You wanted to reach over and kiss him, to feel his warm, plush lips on your own.

You forced yourself to look away, afraid of what would pursue if you didn't. The sun had partly peaked over the oceanline. Give him a chance, you told yourself. What's the worst that could happen? He knows he fucked up and wont make that mistake again. Neither will you. “Yeah,” You finally say. He provides a relieved smile. “Yeah, let’s have a good summer, Max.”

Continuation tags:@hanversace

[quinloki]

Okay so

Wb pirates but Yandere, they slip up and when teach stabs thatch(he survives cause I said so) he takes reader with him and everyone proceeds to freak the fuck out like a dog on cocaine

Like???? I think marco and thatch would have it the worst cause Marcos the most obsessed and grilling himself on how this could happen and thatch is sitting in the recovery room pissed he couldn’t protect them? But I can imagine everyone is spiraling.

How far would teach get? Would it still just be ace who goes after him?

I love the idea that at some point the reader had told Teach they really missed home. Like, they’ve come to terms with being a part of the crew no matter what, but it’d be nice to be able to go home.

So when Teach’s reason to bounce happens, he brings them along. (Grabbing the reader is what makes the stabbing job just sloppy enough that Thatch survives). In this way he’s almost a good guy? But even the reader’s like “I appreciate the intent, but turning traitor still not cool.”

Plus now that they’re off the ship and on the run, the reader’s a nervous wreck. Are they really free? Are they really going to be able to go home, even for just a little while? Is there really any place in the world they could disappear into and not have to worry?

And there are SO MANY WAYS this could go too.

Maybe they’re too attached to whoever and Teach’s plan to “save” them ends up with them stabbing him in the back? Whether it’s Ace or more, they find the reader sword in hand, covered in blood, just kind of losing it by Teach’s corpse.

Maybe they do manage to disappear and start a new life, and it’s not until it’s all said and done - where the news says everyone from the crew is dead or imprisoned and no one even knows where Marco is. They go to the island to pay their respects at the gravesite, not really guilty about leaving, but the crew did care for them, even if it was twisted.

I’m saying farewell they learn that Marco is indeed alive and well. Fully retired on the island. Doctor and protector. The sweet ending is the both of them apologizing - Marco for how they trapped the reader, the reader for how they left. It’s a long LONG road of hard conversations and compromises, but it works out in the end.

Or it’s just as it was and they’re chained and restrained in his home until they break again, accepting their fate and filling the void of his grief.

But maybe the four famous commanders catch up with Teach. The fight that ensues could go a few ways, but is the tragedy that the reader doesn’t survive the fight? Does the pain of that loss shatter the others that Teach ends up with far greater treasures? Izou and Thatch won’t survive, but who does the WG want more? The King’s brat, or Pops’ most beloved son? They could have both but Teach feels he’s earned the other as his own prize.

There’s certainly a lot in there to play around with. Including a real turning point where the reader foils Teach’s plans entirely and he dies on the Moby. The reader earns way more freedoms after that, even though the crew still essentially keeps them. But for them to risk life and limb to protect Thatch puts everyone at ease.

[savage-rhi]

Wesker: Redfield, our instruments measured that you were driving 100 mph in one of STARS jeeps.

Chris: sorry captain, but the speed limit does not apply when the free bird solo comes on.

@rebelwithoutaclock Coming up! To read the other STARS shenanigans drabbles, here they are 1, 2, 3,

"Alright everyone, gather around. Let's make this mid-week huddle a quick one," Wesker hollered, gesturing with his right hand for everyone in the STARs unit to come into the meeting room.

He took off his shades, rubbing his eyes while mentally bracing himself. Between his nefarious obligations to Umbrella and trying to run a police department, he could feel the exhaustion creeping in. A wave of regret pooled in the back of his subconscious, wishing he had the foresight years ago to not work two jobs. Alas, he made his bed and had to lie in it. That didn't mean he didn't have an intrusive thought or two about cleaning up shop as far as the RPD was concerned, especially with the shenanigans the STARs team in particular pulled.

For being the best, they sure aren't the brightest...he thought as he made himself comfortable in front of the podium, watching the team members take their usual seats. He put his glasses back on and cleared his throat.

"First thing on the agenda is the lightsaber incident," Wesker couldn't believe he was saying this aloud and shook his head. "Mr. Vickers, when you're on patrol and see a group of teens reenacting a movie scene, that doesn't mean you stop your vehicle and join them. Especially when you're in the middle of an investigation. Might I add the delay in your scheduled flight with Mr. Sullivan made it so Ms. Chambers took one for the team and covered your ass."

Quiet snickers filled the room as Brad's face blushed. He wanted to shrink into a puddle and disappear, wondering who ratted him out. All he could do was meekly reply, "Y-yes sir…I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Good," Wesker stated. He ignored the fact that Rebecca herself patted Brad's knee and whispered 'it was alright,' too focused on Chris, who was unable to keep a straight face compared to his colleagues. "Redfield, earlier this week our instruments measured that you were driving a hundred miles per hour in one of our STARS jeeps. Care to explain?"

Jill and Barry, sitting on either side of Chris, quietly chuckled at Chris's expense, earning a quick glare from him before he forced himself to look at Wesker.

"Sorry, captain," Chris coughed. "But the speed limit does not apply when the 'Free Bird' solo comes on."

Barry and Jill bowed their heads in front of the table, their shoulders quaking as they tried to hold back their laughs. Even members of the Bravo team were having difficulty keeping it together at the visual alone.

"You know what else doesn't apply, Redfield?" Wesker asked as a matter of fact.

"I don't know, sir," Chris gestured. "Enlighten me."

"The time-off request you submitted last week. Consider it tabled for insubordination."

"Son of a bitch…!" Chris whispered harshly under his breath.

"And while we are on the subject of cars, Ms. Valentine and Mr. Burton, I'm putting you both on vehicle suspension for the remainder of the week."

"What, why!?" Jill exclaimed.

"But sir--!"

Wesker held up a hand, interrupting their protests. "I doubt Redfield was able to come up with the 'Free Bird' bit on his lonesome. The man is full of colorful ideas, but you two are well known for encouraging him to see it through."

"Shit…"

"Fuck, he got us there," Barry muttered to Jill.

"Mr. Frost," Wesker let out a deep sigh for this one as he once again took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "While you are out on patrol, you can't go around with chalk outlining cars and trucks that don't park within the lines in a parking lot or park to the curb exactly with an exclamation of 'asshole parking' and proceed to ticket."

"But it's a good warning system!" Joseph glared and shrugged. "If they can't parallel park for shit, then they had it coming! If you would've put me on another assignment instead of having me play meter boy, we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"Mr. Frost, get over yourself," Wesker growled. "I know you're angered that I set you on this task, but need I remind you what the alternative would've been?"

"All because I started the whole 'Wesker shits standing up' bit? Man, you need to take a joke!"

"Enough!" Wesker raised his voice. Whatever was left of the chuckles and laughs ceased immediately. He felt a sense of pride rise in his body as well as his blood pressure, and let out a deep breath. "Alright people, let's take five, and we'll meet back here to cover the recent cannibal attacks."

As the STARs Alpha and Bravo teams single filed out of the room, Wesker thought he had a moment of peace until he heard Joseph holler:

"I still stand by what I said, Wesker shits standing up everyone!"

Wesker made a fist, his teeth clenched.

The thought of siccing a pack of Cerberus onto the man was beginning to sound more and more delicious with each passing minute. He smirked to himself, riding on the high from the visuals that came and went through his mind of Joseph being ripped apart.

Maybe Birkin and I can brainstorm later…

If you like my work and feel generous, feel free to donate to my ko-fi account or my cash app account!

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[khaire-traveler]

Will the gods mind if I go into periods of stagnancy where I can do little to no active worship? I struggle with a lot of mental illness and am typically very busy so there are periods during which I cannot do my typical prayer and conversing and such

Hey, Entity,

I feel this post by @doves-of-aphrodite puts my thoughts on this matter the best. I feel that the love and care of deities are not so surface level as to disappear when someone isn't able to actively worship.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I feel every worshipper should go a period without giving offerings. For me, it changed my perspective on worship entirely. Just as you ask for help from loved ones without always giving immediately in return, I feel we are allowed to ask for help from deities without being able to give immediately in return. Kindness that is only given with the expectation of receiving in return shouldn't be the cornerstone of a relationship, in my opinion.

Of course, it's healthy to return the favor, especially to show appreciation and care, but that shouldn't be an "always expectation" that happens every single time you ask for help. The relationship becomes more of a formal exchange to me, and that's personally not what I look for when interacting with deities. For me, when a deity relationship is built solely on offerings and nothing else, there is this neverending pressure to give and give and give, and it discourages me from reaching out when I need help because I'm unable to give in that moment. That discouragement isn't a good thing if it prevents you from communicating with your deities. They aren't a bank that keeps a record of the debt you pay back to them; they are beings with the ability to care for and love humans, and the maturity to understand that humans sometimes don't have the ability to immediately give back.

All of this is to say that I don't think it's healthy to put so much pressure on ourselves to immediately provide an offering of thanks. It can easily consume a deity relationship, in my experience, and make a relationship feel much less personal and much more conditional. It's ok to take your time with things. If you feel guilty, maybe just let the deity know that it will take you some time before you can give an offering directly. I'm certain they have the ability to show you some grace for that.

Also, I believe it's extremely important to remember that worship doesn't always come in the form of giving a physical offering. Worship can be subtle, such as listening to a playlist you create for them, saving pictures on a Pinterest board that reminds you of them, or even just taking care of yourself as an act of devotion. You could even just offer a glass of water and proceed to drink that water, and that can be an act of worship. It doesn't need to be this huge and elaborate thing where you dedicate some lengthy ritual and a luxurious offering. It's ok if your worship is much more subtle for a time. You're allowed to worship in seemingly small ways. Those small things add up to a pretty solid relationship built on genuine care - enough care to think of a deity while going about your day.

Even with this idea of subtle worship, however, you still are not required to give a ton of offerings or put a ton of effort into worship when you're unable to. I believe that deities would prefer us to take care of ourselves first, rather than expending every last drip of energy on devoting ourselves to them. Take care of you for now. Your deities aren't going anywhere.

I hope this helped you. This is, of course, based on my personal practice, and there is no right way of going about worship or anything of the sort. There are no rules or guidelines that we must follow; we make of it what we see fit. Take care, and have a good day/night. 🧡