#idk I spent the day drinking LMAO

[xavierrenegadeangel]

i don’t totally grasp the lore yet but right now i really like the idea that dale himself is a guardian angel. however if i’m not careful with whom he’s guarding this could very easily trod into destiel-adjacent territory

[guesswhosaninja]

do you ever hear the phrase "I was so scared of wasting a day that I nearly wasted my life" and have it haunt you for a month

there are so many times I've felt like I simply lost years, and you'll finally do something and realize you spent six months saying "I should do that soon" without doing anything or "I should get back to that" each day for months on end

[thedickcavettshow]

my job is so weather-dependent because the bugs are only around when it's dry out and its annoying as hell because on days when its raining hard my boss just cancels work which I mean I do appreciate a random day off and all but well. I need money. I can't make my rent if I'm not getting paid for my full hours...

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Part Two ～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, slice-of-life, southern charm overload

Word Count: 2,303

Synopsis: Mark is definitely not obsessed with the new girl in school—he’s just... curious. Totally casual. Until she invites him to lunch under the big tree out front and serves up a full-on southern picnic. Between the cloth napkins and sweet tea, Mark finds himself spiraling farther into the honey-soaked abyss.

a/n: we in this y'all!!!! idk how many parts i'm gonna make for this but reader really got my ass in a mf chokehold 😭 boutta write a self insert x southern belle!reader fic LMAO jk

read part one ❀ꗥ～ Here! ～ꗥ❀

Mark walked into the cafeteria like he did every day—casual. Breezy. Totally unbothered. He was just a guy. Just a regular guy getting lunch like everybody else.

So what if he’d spent the last three hours thinking about the girl who sat next to him in biology? The one who talked like sweet tea tasted and looked like she’d stepped off the set of Gone with the Wind. That was… normal. Totally.

His eyes swept across the room as he passed the lunch line, definitely not looking for anyone in particular. Nope. Not at all. He was just… checking the place out. You know. Casually. Like a guy who did not care at all.

And yet—his gaze kept drifting. The same corners. The same tables. Maybe she left early. Maybe she wasn’t a cafeteria person. Maybe—

“So…” William’s voice cut in, eyeing him like he was trying to spot a fever. “You gonna stare into space all lunch or actually eat something?”

Mark blinked, yanked out of his spiral. “Huh? Yeah. I’m good. Totally fine.” He dropped his tray onto the table and shoved a handful of fries into his mouth like that would make it true. “Just thinking.”

“About what? The pizza?” William poked at his slice like it might bite him. “Pretty sure that thing’s been here since last semester.”

Mark gave a weak laugh, but his thoughts were already sliding back to you.

“Have you met the new girl yet?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Like his brain had just been waiting for an opening.

William furrowed his brow, then his eyes lit with recognition. “Oh, the girl from Georgia? The one in that dress? Looked like she just wandered off the battlefield at Gettysburg?”

Mark choked a little on his soda. “She’s not—okay, she’s got a style. It’s charming.”

William smirked. “She was wearing pearls dude.”

Mark didn’t even try to fight the smile spreading across his face. “I know. It was… kinda amazing. She sat next to me in biology. She called me sugar.”

William snorted, shaking his head. “Are you—actually, yeah I believe it.” He leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “She would talk like a Southern Living magazine. Bet she drinks lemonade out of mason jars too.”

Mark leaned in, too excited to care. “She said something to me—I can’t remember exactly—but it was like… ‘You look sweeter than a cricket dipped in molasses on a June afternoon.’”

William blinked. “That’s… not a sentence.”

“No, no, it was something about pie. Or syrup? Maybe biscuits?” Mark frowned, trying to dig it back up. “‘Pretty as a pie cooling on the sill?’” He paused. “...That’s not right.”

William tilted his head, clearly entertained now. “You okay, man?”

Mark snapped back, blinking. “Huh?”

“I didn’t know you had a thing for southern girls.”

Mark opened his mouth to deny it. To say it wasn’t like that. That he was totally, absolutely fine. But instead, what came out was: “She gave me a butterscotch.”

William stared. Then nodded. “Oh yeah. You’re gone.”

But before Mark could sink any deeper into the warm, sugary spiral that was his brain on you, a flicker of movement outside the cafeteria windows caught his eye.

Under the biggest tree on campus—sprawling and sun-dappled like a snapshot straight off a postcard—there you were. Flowery dress. Ruffled sleeves. Lunchbox open beside you like something out of a 1950s Coca-Cola ad.

And then, like it was choreographed by fate itself—you looked up.

Right at him.

Mark froze. You smiled, your whole face lighting up like you’d been hoping he’d be look your way. Then you gave a little wave, the kind that made his stomach do cartwheels.

His first instinct was to look behind him. Surely you weren’t—wait. You were pointing. At him. Then you lifted your lunchbox slightly, tilted your head, and gave a beckoning little gesture, like Well, come on over, sugar.

Mark didn’t even feel himself move. His body had apparently filed for independence from his brain. One second he was at the table, the next he was halfway to the door.

“Dude,” William called after him. “You haven’t even finished your—”

Too late. He was already floating out the door like a cartoon character, drawn by the siren call of sweet tea, sunshine, and maybe—just maybe—a second butterscotch.

Mark tried to play it cool as he walked across the lawn. He really did.

He slowed his steps. Smoothed his sweater. Tried to remember how arms were supposed to move when walking like a normal person and not a malfunctioning robot. Unfortunately, none of it mattered, because the moment you looked up at him with that sweet, sunshiney smile—he short-circuited all over again.

“Well, hey there, darlin’,” you said, tucking a curl behind your ear. “You looked awfully lonely in that big ol’ cafeteria. Thought maybe you’d come keep me company.”

I will keep you company every day. I will build you a porch swing. I will learn how to make sweet tea from scratch. I will fight a bear for you. Just say the word.

Out loud, he managed: “Uh… sure. Yeah. That’d be cool.”

But as he got closer, he noticed something that almost made him trip.

You hadn’t just plopped down on the grass with a brown bag like everyone else. No—oh no. You had laid out a whole blanket. A soft yellow one, perfectly smoothed out beneath you like you were about to host a garden party and not just eat lunch behind the gym. There were napkins—cloth. A pastel plaid lunchbox. Was that… a tiny jar of honey?

Mark’s brain short-circuited again.

“You brought… a picnic?” he asked, voice caught somewhere between awe and confusion.

You just smiled and patted the spot beside you with one perfectly manicured hand. “Of course I did, sugar. What kind of lady eats her lunch sittin’ in the dirt like a possum?”

He sat slowly, like if he moved too fast you might vanish in a puff of lavender and lemon bars.

“I, uh… I usually just grab fries and call it a day,” he admitted.

“Well, that simply won’t do,” you said, already pulling out what looked like an entire home-cooked meal from your lunchbox. “I brought extra.”

Mark tried not to stare. There was a thermos. Cornbread. A spoon wrapped in a cloth napkin embroidered with your initials. The world around him went fuzzy.

“You, uh… pack lunch every day?” he asked, dazed.

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed, unscrewing the thermos lid. “Can’t rightly trust these cafeteria folks with my grits.”

Mark blinked. “Wait, you have grits in there?”

“Cheddar bacon,” you said with a proud little grin. “Made ’em this mornin’. Threw in just a pinch of hot sauce, too—don’t worry, not enough to make your ears ring.”

“You made these? Before school??”

You shrugged like it was nothing. “Sure did. Even had time to iron my skirt while the biscuits were browning.”

Mark stared. You offered him a spoonful of grits like you were handing him a sacred gift. He accepted it like one.

“Okay, uh, full disclosure, I don’t think I’ve ever actually had grits before,” he said.

You gasped, genuinely scandalized. “Never had grits? Oh, sugar, that’s a sin in some counties. Go on now—first bite’s the best.”

He took a bite. And stopped.

He blinked. Looked down. Looked back up at you.

“…This is stupid good,” he mumbled through a mouthful. “Like—I think I saw God for a second.”

You beamed. “Aren’t you sweet? They came out alright, I s’pose. Didn’t have time to melt a pat of butter on top.”

Mark laughed. “No, seriously. You’re like… a magician. Even without the butter.”

You leaned back on your elbows, pearls catching the sunlight. “And you,” you said with a wink, “are sweeter than my meemaw’s tea.”

Mark was absolutely, positively, entirely gone.

And just when he thought he couldn’t sink deeper—

“Oh!” you chirped, reaching back into your lunchbox. “Almost forgot dessert.”

Mark blinked. “There’s dessert?”

You unwrapped a tiny square of wax paper like it was gold, revealing a perfectly round, homemade pecan pie. An actual pie. At high school.

“I made a whole batch last night,” you said like it was nothing. “Wanted to bring one in case I made a new friend today.”

Mark stared at the pie. Then you. Then the pie again.

He almost said I love you out loud. Swallowed it back down with a wheeze. Accepted the pie like the precious relic it was.

It was flaky. Warm. Sweet. Perfect.

He let out a low, involuntary noise of appreciation. “Oh my god. That’s insane. How are you real?”

You just smiled sweetly, wiping a crumb off your skirt. “It’s just a little family recipe, s’all. Nothing special.”

Mark stared at you. No. It absolutely was something special. You were something special. The picnic blanket. The pearl necklace. The handmade pie. The fact that you didn’t even notice the effect you had on people—that you didn’t seem to realize you were currently starring in a very real, very serious romantic comedy happening exclusively inside his head.

And then you looked out across the lawn, something wistful in your eyes.

“This place is real different from where I grew up,” you said softly.

Mark blinked, the last bite of pie halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm,” you nodded, brushing your hands together to shake off some crumbs. “Back home, you can’t go ten minutes without runnin’ into somebody you know. My whole high school was the size of y’all’s lunchroom.”

Mark smiled, resting his chin on his hand like a lovesick golden retriever. “What was it like?”

You didn’t even notice the way he was looking at you. You were already off and ramblin’, voice all soft and syrupy and full of color.

“Well, let’s see… mornings usually started with the rooster two houses over gettin’ real full of himself. Mama always made sweet tea first thing—even before coffee—and you better believe if you didn’t say ‘good mornin’’ to every person you passed, someone’s auntie was gonna hear about it before you got home.”

Mark let out a soft laugh, totally enchanted.

“Church on Sundays, of course. Even if you didn’t believe in a lick of it, you showed up dressed to the nines and brought a pie so nobody asked too many questions. Summer nights were all lightning bugs and cicadas. And the air always smelled like grass and honeysuckle and heat.”

Mark smiled. “Heat has a smell?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, nodding like it was a universal truth. “Smells like pavement and freedom and the inside of your daddy’s truck after he’s been workin’ all day.” You laughed softly at yourself, brushing a curl back from your face. “Sorry, I’m ramblin’.”

“No—no, don’t stop,” Mark said quickly, leaning in without realizing it. “Seriously, I could listen to you talk forever.”

You smiled, a little bashful. “Aren’t you just the sweetest…”

But before you could say anything else—

BRRRRRRRRRRRRING.

The lunch bell screamed through the courtyard like it was personally out to ruin Mark’s life.

Mark flinched like he’d just been shot. “No. Noooooo,” he whispered under his breath, staring at the speaker mounted on the side of the building like it had committed a heinous crime against him personally.

You barely looked up, already starting to close your lunchbox with a frown. “Oh, I know, right?” you said, like he’d just commented on the weather. “Lunch period is way longer back home—forty-five minutes, sometimes an hour if the buses were runnin’ late. I mean, honestly, how’s a person supposed to eat a proper meal in thirty minutes? It’s barbaric.”

Mark blinked at you, utterly speechless. You were out here making actual points while he was two seconds away from flying up and ripping the school’s PA system out of the wall with his bare hands.

You just shook your head and sighed dramatically. “No time to digest, no time to gossip… and Lord knows I don’t rush when there’s pie involved.”

He stared. Absolutely down horrendous.

You crouched to fold up your picnic blanket with practiced grace, not a single crumb or wrinkle out of place. It was like witnessing the southern belle version of a superhero packing up her gear.

Mark watched you, stunned. You weren’t just charming—you were a menace. A dainty, smiling, cornbread-wielding menace.

You stood, tucking the blanket into your tote with care, and gave him that signature, sunshiney smile like you hadn’t just turned his entire world upside down.

“S’pose I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’,” you said sweetly, adjusting the strap of your lunchbox like you were heading off to a garden party instead of sixth period. “Thanks for keepin’ me company.”

Mark just nodded, completely useless, mouth opening like he had something to say—anything—but nope. Nothing. Brain? Offline. Vocabulary? Deleted. All that came out was a vague, helpless little “Yeah.”

And with that, you turned and strolled across the grass, curls bouncing, the scent of peach preserves still lingering in the air behind you like a spell.

Mark stood there for a solid five seconds, staring at the spot where you’d been like he’d just watched the sun walk away from him.

Then he looked down at the almost empty pie tin in his hands. Looked up at the bell speaker. Back at the grass.

“…I’m gonna marry that girl,” he whispered, stunned.

He was so far gone, he didn’t even hear William walk up behind him.

“You gonna finish that, or just keep whispering to it like a weirdo?”

Mark jolted, clutching the tin protectively. “Get your own.”

[atlabeth]

I desperately need you to give me some jealous nikolai lanstov I'm not even jokinh

my love mine all mine

lowkey continuation of bad luck and im with you; can be read standalone though!

pairing: nikolai lantsov x fem reader

summary: after your return to ravka, nikolai's resolve is tested at a ball.

a/n: i have saved this ask since september because i knew one day i would get around to it. i love nikolai lantsov and i dont write jealous fics often so here we go!! this is technically a continuation of bad luck and im with you but you can read it separately. i keep going back to these two for some reason lmao?? idk. theyre childhood friends to lovers with so much strife in between and that's so special to me lmao. but yah enjoy i MISSED WRITING FOR HIM<3

wc: 2.8k

warning(s): nikolai is a lil jealous obviously! small bit of angst, mostly fluff, lil steamy at the end.

Nikolai feels his lip curling, feels his hand tighten on his glass. 

This is a party. A ball, more specifically, but a celebration nonetheless. He should be smiling, mingling, talking up some baron or duke in the name of Ravka’s economy. He is a prince, after all—a bastard, second son of a prince that plans to take the throne at that—and he’s just returned from years at sea. It is in his best interest to do what he does best and talk as much as possible. If anything, he should be arm in arm with the Sun Summoner to boost both their positions. 

But all he can do is stare at you. 

You’re the embodiment of grace. Your practiced smile looks wholly genuine no matter how long you have to keep it up. Your laugh seems to make others smile without even realizing, ringing out clear like church bells. It’s a sound Nikolai knows he would worship to the end of his days, at least. 

You stand in the midst of noblemen and Nikolai only recognizes one—Artem Aslanov, a son of nobles that the two of you spent much of your youth with. He wonders if you remember each other as well. He certainly seems to, the way he stands just a bit too close to you, the way he’s absolutely eager for your attention. Nikolai holds back a scoff. 

The others are likely from various other Ravkan settlements, though one has to be Kaelish, with his almost offensively ginger hair. 

Not that any of it matters, though. Not one of them can tear their eyes away from you as you talk, magnetic with both your words and inherent charm, and they drink up every bit of your presence. 

Something stirs inside Nikolai at the sight. Logically, he knows he has little to worry about—he knows this is your duty as much as it is his, and you care little for any man’s affections but his. 

But Saints, his heart does not want to listen to silly things such as logic. In this moment, Nikolai is reminded of the truth at its barest—you’re a noblewoman of good breeding, quite extravagant wealth, and considerable beauty. Your years at sea have caused you to develop a quick wit and sharp tongue, and it only serves to make you more appealing.

Your flashy return to Ravka has made you perhaps the most desirable lady at court, and Nikolai is forced to realize he no longer has you all to himself anymore. 

Nikolai has planned to come back and take the Lantsov throne for years now, but he can’t help but long for those days again. Teaching you all the ins and outs of the Volkvolny, how to do every sailor’s knot he knows, showing you the misty mountains of the Wandering Isle and the rolling fields of Novyi Zem and the wonderful world outside of Ravka’s courtly constraints. 

Taking over the ships of slavers and clashing blades with drüskelle and watching a thousand sunrises and sunsets together, unbound by anything but tangled up in every part of each other. 

It was almost laughable. You were worried of Nikolai charming others upon your return, and yet here he was, unable to look away from you for even the slightest second because he was jealous of some noble son.

“Your Highness, are you alright?” 

Nikolai turns back to the conversation he is meant to be paying attention to, already offering a smile that he hopes will make up for his utter lack of focus. Of course, he doesn’t really care what this Kerch merchant thinks of him, and Nikolai’s word will probably mean little to his parents at the moment. They’re still quite angry at him for all his Sturmhondish escapades. This man, whose name he has already forgotten, doesn’t seem to know he’s wasting his time. 

“Of course I am,” he says, and he pats him on the shoulder. He means to say more, but then he catches a glance of Artem pulling you to the side, his hand lingering on your waist much too close for comfort. He’s surprised he doesn’t break his glass with how his fingers clench around it even tighter.  

“Then I would be honored for you to consider my—” 

“I apologize, Jansen.” Nikolai ignores the look on his face at both his interruption and being called the wrong name as he drops his hand. “It’s been wonderful chatting with you, but I’m afraid I must take my leave.” 

Nikolai departs before he can get another word out. He’s sure he’ll get an earful later for his ‘disrespect’ but again, he really could not care less. 

He expects to have to weave his way through the crowd, but a path parts for him wherever he moves. Benefits to being a Lantsov prince rather than another privateer on the sea, he supposes. He feels a number of eyes on him as he walks, but he’s focused on one thing and one thing only. 

Artem seems to be as well, seeing as he doesn’t even look up while he continues talking to you. Nikolai doesn’t blame him for being enraptured, but he does wonder what he thinks that boorish smile will do to you. 

Nikolai exclaims your name as he comes up next to you, sliding his arm around your waist like he’s done a thousand times before and claiming his place at your side. “I’ve been looking for you, milaya. You’ve been awfully popular tonight.”

Your gleaming gaze turns to him and Nikolai feels like he can melt. It doesn’t matter how many times you look at him—not even Alina can muster up something to rival your brightness. 

“Nikolai!” 

Again, the way you say his name makes him weak at the knees. The poshness of your Ravkan faded while you were at sea around common sailors and vagrants, and though he can tell you’re trying your best to hide it in the name of courtly etiquette, it still bleeds through. He adores your accent, how it shows the woman you’ve become rather than the girl you ran away from. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” you counter as you lean into him. You’ve applied some fanciful perfume, and it’s intoxicating. He has to stop himself from inhaling deeply—he has little shame when it comes to you, but he’s got to have some poise. “You’re the belle of the ball, Mister Prince.” 

“And you’re the apple of everyone’s eye, lapushka,” he says. “Especially mine.” 

Your heartbeat has been steadily increasing ever since he slotted himself at your side, and he can feel it speed even more with his words. It makes Nikolai smile without even fully realizing it. 

He feels Artem’s gaze on him all the while, and Nikolai chooses to ignore it until now. He looks up, making sure his eyes widen cartoonishly and his smile deepens with the same caliber. “Aslanov! I’m so sorry, I didn’t even notice you!” 

“Your Highness,” he says, polite but terse as he bows his head. “It’s good to see you—it has truly been too long.” 

“Oh, no need for titles,” Nikolai admonishes. “We’re all friends here, are we not?”

He puts particular emphasis on that word, and Artem shifts ever so slightly under Nikolai’s gaze. So he makes him nervous—good. 

“We are,” he agrees, and he looks back at you. “We were merely catching up—it has been years since I last had the good fortune to be in your presence.” Artem smiles at you once again, far more genuine than anything he’s given Nikolai. “Of course, I look forward to hearing about everything you learned at university.” 

“I’ve certainly learned a lot,” you say. Very tongue-in-cheek—you don’t even try to hide it. 

Of course. The cover story for Nikolai’s being away from court was his apprenticeships, culminating in his studies at the University of Ketterdam—it would be a shame of the highest order for your parents to admit you ran away to avoid the marriage they’d planned for you, and even more so to admit it had gotten their daughter kidnapped by slavers, so they simply said you joined him there. 

Advancing your studies for a better view, they’d spouted. We want our heir to be well-educated on all matters of the world. Nikolai knows you learned more on the seas by his side than you would have in a classroom staring at endless amounts of books. He only regrets he can’t shout how amazing you’ve been for the past few years from the rooftops. 

“Perhaps we could discuss it privately some time.” Nikolai will give it to him; his smile is a bit more charming this time. He still wants to punch it off him. “You know, my family has only refined our winemaking over the years—we’d have a wonderful time with a bottle of our finest red—”

“Unfortunately, it will have to wait,” Nikolai cuts in before you can respond. He can’t help it—he’s raring to have you to himself, and he doesn’t know how much more he can take of Artem’s flirting. “My parents are eager to speak to you, darling. We’ll see you around, Aslanov.” 

He pulls you away, once again feeling Artem’s eyes on the two of you. He purposefully pulls you closer against him—your warmth against him does wonders to quell the spike of jealousy in his chest.

“You really are impossible,” you say wryly, but you make no move to part from his side as he leads you through the crowd. 

“I’m just making sure he understands the situation,” Nikolai says innocently. 

“We were just talking,” you say. “You know, it has been years.”

“You were,” he agrees. “But our friend here was very interested in trying to be more. Couldn’t you tell?”

You laugh and you place your hand on his chest. “Nikolai Lantsov, are you jealous?”

“He was talking about his family’s vineyard.” He smiles back at you in turn. He can’t help the bit of bravado that trickles in. “For me to be jealous, I’d have to think he had a chance.”

“Saints, you are!” you exclaim. You stop, halting him in turn, and you grin at him with a twinkle in your eye. Again, he smiles subconsciously just at the sight of it. “Nikolai, I cannot believe you!” 

“How?” he asks, cocking his head boyishly. “Have you caught a glimpse of yourself tonight?”

“I’ve looked at myself in the reflection of every glass,” you say dryly. “After all the time spent in sea-faring clothes, it’s very strange to be back in gowns.”

“Then you should know how absolutely stunning you are,” he says. “Breathtaking, showstopping, the very image of perfection…” Nikolai runs his finger over the embroidery on one of your off-the-shoulder sleeves. The rest of his hand lingers on your bare skin, and he longs to remove the barrier his gloves have created. 

“And yet it still doesn’t beat how you look in a privateer’s garb,” Nikolai says. 

He places his hand over yours and brings it up from his chest. He entangles your fingers and uses the grasp to pull you even closer to him, your chests nearly touching. The warmth of your body tempts him to go even further, but he holds back. 

“Really?” you ask. “This gown cost more vlachkas than anyone deserves, took the labor of a small army to create, and weighs as much as you do, and you like me more in that dingy jacket with pants that smell like gunpowder?” 

“Oh, yes,” Nikolai nods. “They don’t just smell like gunpowder—they make your rear look very appealing.” 

You laugh louder than you should and it draws eyes in your direction. You don’t pay them any mind, gaze still locked on Nikolai, as you hit him on the chest. 

“You still have the mind of a sailor, I see,” you drawl. “But I must admit I also miss it. The simplicity, if anything.” 

“Just because I didn’t keep a king’s mantle on deck doesn’t mean I wasn’t outfitted in the same gaudy way,” Nikolai says. “A Lantsov must always be prepared, you know.” 

“Well, I used to hate that blue frock of yours, especially when we first reunited,” you muse. You extract your hand and trail your fingers down his current coat—he shivers at your touch even through the material. “Now I think I prefer it over anything else in your wardrobe.”

He frowns. “You hated my coat?” 

“I hated a lot of things at the time,” you say wryly. Your hand finds its way back to his and you intertwine them together again. “Besides, it’s grown on me.” 

Nikolai chuckles, and the two of you fall silent when you shift and rest your head on his shoulder. You’ve managed to find your way to the edge of the ballroom, and it gives you a little more privacy. You stand together, watching as everyone mingles, half bearing a fake smile and the other half lying through their teeth. He didn’t think the Ravkan court would like to think they had more in common with his lying, cheating, stealing crew than they thought.  

“So,” Nikolai says, finally breaking the silence, “is being back everything you’ve imagined?”

You huff. “Hardly. Everything is so… restrained.” 

He hums in acknowledgement. “Speaking of restrained, have your parents gotten over their fit yet?” 

Your laugh is sharper this time. “Once again, hardly. You’d think I murdered the queen the way they’re treating me.” 

Nikolai expected that, to be honest. He insisted on being by your side in the initial reunion and they didn’t dare act out of turn in front of royalty, but you said the moment you returned to your palace apartment with them, they yelled at you loud enough to be heard in Novyi Zem. 

“They should be thankful,” Nikolai scoffs. “It’s like they don’t even care what nearly happened to you because of their haste to marry you off.” 

“I don’t even like to think about it,” you murmur. He feels you shiver and he pulls you even closer to him. “But I was right—they want me to be who I was before I left. They’re even convinced that they can get me to agree to the marriage they’ve got planned.” 

His frown deepens. “Saints, must I sweep you off your feet in front of all of Ravka to get everyone to realize you’re a taken woman? I am a very good shot, but I’ve only got so many bullets—”

“Nikolai,” you interrupt with a laugh, raising your head to look him in the eye. He’s glad to see the lightness has returned. Your near fate isn’t a subject either of you like to talk about. “You don’t need to worry, and you certainly don’t need to worry about that.” You cup his cheek with your hand and he leans into your touch. “If one thing has stayed the same through all of this, it’s that you’re the only one out there for me. After all the pomp and circumstance you have to perform with Alina is over, you can tell them yourself.” 

“Good,” Nikolai says with a slight smile. “Because I don’t think I can stand to hear Aslanov talk about the grapes his family’s been growing for another second.” 

You laugh again, and you lean in to press a kiss to his lips. Nikolai beats you to it as he covers your hand with his own, using his other to draw you even closer. Practically every part of you is touching as he kisses you like a starving man, with your lips against his and your perfume invading his senses and your soft moan that’s muffled against his mouth. After a night spent away from your side and having to watch other men compete fruitlessly for your affections, he might as well be. 

When you finally pull away, lipstick a mess and pupils dilated and expression nothing less than adoration, it takes everything Nikolai has in him not to take your face in his hands and do it all over again. He wants to mess up your hair, your makeup, kiss your lips until they’re swollen and ravish, worship your body until you can think of nothing but him, say nothing but his name. 

“Nikolai,” you gasp, interrupting his sinful thoughts, “do you want to get out of here for a bit?” 

Whatever restraint he previously had dissolves with your words as he kisses you again, harder this time. You’re water when he’s dying, a lifeboat when he’s drowning, the very air he needs to breathe. Everything has come to a head after such a boring, strength-testing night, and all Nikolai wants is you. 

He brings you even closer with the arm he has around your waist, already starting to pull you along as he heads towards the doorways. He’s sure to stick to the walls, not wanting to draw more attention than necessary when even the flushed warmth of your heated skin through his jacket is enough to drive him crazy. 

Nikolai doesn’t know how he ever spent seven years away from you. He could barely handle half a ball. 

“More than anything,” he breathes. 

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Valentine's Day...Gifts They Give You?? I Think. IDK.

HAH SCHOOL CAN KICK MY BUTT BUT BY GOD AND THE DEVIL WILL I SHARE A LITTLE BIT OF LOVE!! (I'm suffering Jesus fucking CHRIST this course is gonna eat my fried up brain for breakfast lunch and dinner) This is done assuming they're pining for Yuu, save for Ortho he's Idia's little wingman. GN reader as always bbssssssssss if anything seems canon divergent, check out my HCs lmao

Heartslaybul Ace: He thought about making it super romantic, like he spent the week leading up to Valentine's day brainstorming ideas on napkins and doodling on scrap paper, trying to come up with a way to ask to hang out that would make it feel different than normal, but not so obvious that he...you know, likes you. He ends up showing up at Ramshackle before class with a box of chocolates he bought the day before and a bit of a blushing mess. "I just got these because who knows how much Sam will have by the end of today, you owe me half, ok?"

Deuce: He absolutely called his mom to ask for some advice, and asked his dorm mom (Trey), to proofread the hand written note he had meticulously written and supervise while he tries to make a heartshaped quiche. Why quiche? Well he knows you guys have...Memories about eggs, and he remembers it fondly, and he knows that quiche freezes well, so if he makes a big batch, you can eat what you want and have a readily available breakfast to just pop back in the oven whenever you want it - hopefully you'll remember him each time you do, and you'll ask for more when you finish it! He ends up at Ramshackle a little disheveled and out of breath, trying to make the quiche early enough in the day that he could make it there before breakfast so maybe you could share a meal before class. "It's still warm??" "Yeah, I ran here as fast as I could once it was cool enough to handle." "You didn't have to..." "I wanted to! You're more than worth the effort it took to be here on time." Trey: Mans has a major advantage in that he is great in the kitchen, but he can't just make your favourite dessert. He can do that any day. No, for weeks ahead of time, he plans, makes, tests, and revises a new recipe, something that is unique and meant to be for you. It's more effort than he normally puts into his work, but it's so worth it when he shows up at Ramshackle in the evening to deliver his gift and a small note, though he gets shy. He leaves it on the front door step, knocks once, and moves to hide by the side of the house, relying on Grim's nose to bring you to the door if you didn't hear him knock. Seeing the way your face go from confusion to joy and excitement as you read the note is worth every moment he spent crouching. He knows tomorrow you'll want to talk to him in person, but for now, that's more than enough for him.

Cater: Consumerism Capital lmao. He has a really sweet, genuine gift to give to you, but the time he's spent with his sisters makes him second guess whether or not something is "good enough". So, yes, he will have spent 72 hours painting a fucking masterpiece on a phone case for you, or a pair of shoes you said you wanted, or a skateboard so you guys can skateboard together, or something you mentioned you wanted offhandedly months ago, but he's not sure if it's enough, so to "make up" for his "shitty handmade gift", he buys a shit ton of Valentine's day merchandise! He shows up with the giant teddy bear, the bouquet of flowers, the chocolates, the sappy movies, a trending perfume and some sort of specialty drink he picked up at a cafe. Depending on your reaction to all that stuff, he might actually give you the gift he worked on, otherwise you'll see it by accident or something and he gets embarrassed and a little flustered because What If You Don't Like It, Isn't Everything Else Better Than That Thing I Worked On Specifically For You. Treat him gently please. That's a personal request slkdjfhlskdjf

Riddle: He's new to this. So of course he researched long and hard on how to best express his interest in you without trying to push anything on you. Cater tried to show him cute stuff on social media, but it all seemed so scripted, disingenuous, or so over the top he couldn't see himself doing it that way. Or on the other end - they were couples, well into their relationships and living together- that wasn't where he was with you, at least....not yet. He ends up watching, reading and listening to tutorials on how to put together the perfect bouquet - his beloved rose garden would have more than an aesthetic use now, and with a little magic, a beautiful gradient came easily to the bunch of roses he arranged beautifully. Before you, this holiday just seemed ridiculous. Maybe it still was, but he would indulge if it meant it brought a smile to your face.

Savannaclaw

Jack: He can't be direct for the life of him, not in terms like this. The night before Valentine's day, he's still stumped on what to do for you that won't be...inherently romantic and obvious, but show that he cares about you!! His eyes end up settling on his little cactus and he ends up finally getting an idea. Somehow after class, but before you got home, he managed to gift you your own tiny cactus. He left it sitting in a box, a small knitted coaster of sorts sitting underneath the flower pot - he put it in the box just so that the yarn wouldn't snag on the uneven wood outside of Ramshackle- and a tiny cowboy hat sitting on top of your cactus. It had been from one of his little siblings dolls that ended up in his bag from the last time he'd gone home, but either they didn't even notice it was gone, or he could get them a replacement later.

Ruggie: "Do you have plans for Valentine's day?" "Yep. Wait for it to be over." He doesn't really care for Valentine's day, but the sale that starts on the 15th? Goddamn, yeah, he's gonna capitalize on that....and he might even like you enough to share a little bit of it...maybe while watching a movie....and snuggling up under the same blanket at Ramshackle...that he may or may not have snagged from Leona's pile of Really Nice blankets....all it takes is for you to say you want some chocolate or treats too.

Leona: He really doesn't care for Valentine's day and all the shit that comes with it, but his sister in law asked him to at least try to make the best of the day. Initially, he was going to...at least try to contest it, but ultimately decided there was a simple way to do it. He ends up firing you a quick text to meet him in the greenhouse. While the way he pulls you into his little nest for napping is rather unceremonious, once you've settled he tucks a pink camellia behind your ear before abruptly telling you he's going to sleep and you're welcome to join him or you can get out of there if you want. He hopes, that just maybe, you'll be able to identify the flower he gave you and find out what it means.

Octavinelle

Floyd: Azul is making him work overtime for Valentine's day, he doesn't get up early enough to do anything Before classes, and by the end of his shift he's EXHAUSTED and MAD. He likely has the wherewithall to bring you a serving from the special menu in a takeout container before flopping down on the couch next to you, then onto you, just looking for a little bit of physical affection. The next day he does feel a little bad for not making you feel as special as he could have, so he'll wake you up with breakfast in bed. Jade: Again, he's been working overtime but he was more ready for Valentine's day than Floyd. While he can't take you anywhere on the day of, he has an easy hike and picnic planned for the weekend if you'll join him. Despite being in the wild outdoors, he's determined to make you a dish that would be worthy of serving at the lounge. He will not handle being asked to stay home very well, but ultimately will if you want that more....but it's going to be in your backyard.

Azul: He had so much on his plate leading up to Valentine's day with marketing, organizing shifts and maximizing profit. But, some of that profit was already planned to be set aside specifically for you. It was about time that you got a bit of a leg up, right? I mean working for Crowley can only pay so much, and he's the head of the dorm that represents generosity anyways. So on the day after Valentine's day, he shows up in the evening with a laptop, and envelope with cash, and a grin, ready to show you the wonders of ✨investing✨. He may have forgotten you still...want to go home. He'll backtrack a bit and offer to help you find contractors that will renovate a part of Ramshackle for you.

Scarabia

Jamil: He didn't even bother trying to plan something for himself with you. How could he? It was a holiday, as ridiculous as it was, it meant that Kalim would inevitably want to celebrate it on the dorm level, and Jamil, of course, would have to plan and organize and arrange everything in order to make it work out. However, that didn't mean he wouldn't make sure to invite you. It didn't mean that he wouldn't make the time to ensure your favourite dish was served. Or that your favourite song would come on during the dance party portion of the celebration. Or that he wouldn't check on you just as, if not more frequently than he did on Kalim to make sure you're enjoying yourself. And if you're not, if it's all too much, he accounted for that already and will show you where you can stay until you feel okay again. Of course, if you show up an hour or two early and demand (you can't ask, he'll say no) to be given a task to lighten his burden, he might just admire you a little bit more (even if he still says no).

Kalim: Valentine's Day means partayyyyy time!! There's gonna be food, and dancing, and games, and lots of people, and live music because he, Cater, and Lilia are gonna perform, won't you come see him?? He needs you there so he can perform the best he ever has!! Come on Yuu, please??? They did actually practice, because they had to change a few lyrics so that it could be a better cover for Valentine's day and he was thinking of you when they modified it, so can you pleeeeeeeease come?

Pomefiore

Epel: He isn't sure whether he wants to continue a tradition he had from home or not, where he would show up at school with handmade lollipops and give them out to people....but his class at primary school was soooo much smaller, it wouldn't make sense to do it here for everyone. Not to mention, he usually had his grandma help him make them, he's never done it on his own. He likely does it for all the first years in his little friend group because he doesn't want to be obvious to anyone person that maybe...he likes them a little more...however your lollipop is the only one that seems to have no imperfections. Funny how that worked out.

Rook: Screw your alarm clock, he knows when you wake up anyways and will be outside your window, serenading you until you wake up. Even if you end up rolling out of bed lookin like a sewer rat and peaking out the window, once he knows you're awake he'll start reading poetry to you. He kinda just lingers until you're done getting ready enough to come great him outside, where he gives you a single rose and a few sheets of paper that he's written his poems about you on. He'll kiss the back of your hand and offer to escort you to class. ** I just want to say, for as much as I gripe about Rook in other posts, I genuinely believe that if he knew or found out you had no Valentine, no plans, and nobody treated you, he would, by the end of the day, at least have left a rose and handwritten note on in front of your door apologizing for not having asked to be your Valentine earlier and going through and complimenting you, though the note is completely anonymous. Rook is a bleeding heart (hehe Snow White ref) and regardless of his feelings for you/your feelings for him, he wants to make sure Valentine's day is positive for you.

Vil: Ugh, Valentine's day. It's a tacky, meaningless holiday that corporations push for the sake of profit. He agrees to model stuff still, sure, he has to in order to try and keep up with Neige, but he hates it. He gets his nails done so that they are jet black. Part of him wants to go goth for the day, but really that would be an overreaction to something so minor. He rejects any Valentine's day gifts, and likely won't want to do anything special, so if anything, you get to see a slightly out of character Vil as he either facetimes you to make sure you've been drinking water today and rant about the industry and how it's ruined Valentine's day, or. You send him a really cheesy gif wishing him a happy Valentines day and he very reluctantly replies, but tells you to never do that again (and it segues into Above).

Ignihyde

Idia (+ wingman/little shit Ortho): Ortho didn't really intend to snoop, but his big brother just left his phone out in the open...well he threw it onto his bed and mumbled something about being a loser. According to Ortho's analysis of Idia's phone, he hadn't been on a mobile game, so what got him so worked up? He sifted through until he found the culprit- the draft of a really sweet...and yeah, kinda cringey message he had written out addressed to the prefect of Ramshackle. Eugh he didn't need to read that...but...but Yuu should. He sends the message for Idia right before his brother comes back into the room, mumbling about how he needs to delete something. His eyes go wide as saucers as he sees not only has the message been sent, but the prefect has read it and is replying in that very moment. Idia reprimands Ortho immediately, but gently until the Prefects response comes through and Ortho confirms the tone is positive. Diasomnia lord help me it's one in the morning

Sebek: Wasn't going to do anything until Lilia mentioned...."exaggerated"...just how important Valentine's Day can be to humans. His decision to try and come up with a last minute gift only amplifies if he sees someone else give Yuu a gift, and ultimately decides with a certain degree of defeat just to buy something from Sam's shop. He decides something practical is best, but gets a little distracted around the candles. Surely in Ramshackle you would appreciate something small, aromatic and it even offers a small bit of heat! He decides to go through with it, but it's only noon, surely he can customize it a bit more before the end of the day. Lilia ends up walking into Sebek's room at around 10:30, only to see him struggling to stay awake as he wipes off paint from the lid. Based on the discarded tissues around, he hasn't been satisfied with any customizations he's tried to make. Lilia gently encourages him just to write a quick note, and he'll deliver it to the prefects doorstep for him so he can get to sleep. Sebek insists it's not perfect, but is forced to accept defeat as Lilia ushers him to bed, reassuring him that the prefect will still appreciate it.

Silver: He knows that he struggles to stay awake, so he starts on his project long before Valentine's day so that he can work on it whenever he has the wherewithall to do so. Come Valentine's day, he has the gift with him during class, and ends up sitting outside of Ramshackle, passed out next to the door waiting for you to show up so he can hand you his gift, which turns out to be a dagger. No, he didn't make it, but he wanted to research the best option for someone of your size and stature, the quality, where to purchase it reliably, to make a small write up on how to care for it properly, what it can and should be used for, and activities it's not suggested to use it for, but you technically "can". It also gives him an excuse to come see you more often to teach you how to use it- often teaching someone is a great way to learn and will add another layer to his training. Lilia: He's been around for so many Valentine's Days, he probably knew the fucking saint it was named after. That being said, he loves to make the most of life, and that doesn't stop here! Get ready for a home cooked meal, you don't have to worry about dinner tonight sweetheart, Lilia's got it covered. Or he'll pay for take out. Or both, to make up for the mess in your kitchen.

Malleus: He's been aware of the holiday for years, but has never really had a reason to celebrate it. But now there's someone who isn't scared of him. Someone who, perhaps if he asked, you would allow him to spend time with you. He ends up daydreaming about the activities the two of you could do together, from making gargoyles to learning to make ice cream together, he ends up spending the entire day like that. Though he's a bit frustrated at his loss of time, he writes out a heartfelt letter to invite you to join him in those activities at a later date. He'll either wait for you outside, or if its too late in the night, simply slide the letter under your door.

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

I was gonna do Che'nya and Neige and even Rollo but its. its way too late, I'm hungry and I have a STATS class tomorrow RIP me.

[bechaerriezlvr]

flash!

inspired by teamies’ illumination and samidare and ofc another poetry prompt xoxo 💋💋

i missed out on ditto era so i’m basking in it a season too late

i tried to make it ot9 but you can tell who i bias LMAO. this is the first time i’ve ever written in second(?) person. i got carried away with this i fear

warnings (?): angst, rambling, death, SAD SAD SAD, suicidal, suggestive, this is super all over the place. so i might take this down and edit this. i don’t know where i was going…. this is so unusually dramatic i feel like i should’ve made it a bigger deal idk. can you tell im a “spur in the moment” writer?

I NEVER WRITE ONESHOTS HELP ME

word count: 2.6k

OK LETS START

in english we say: everywhere i look, i see you.

in my head i say: i see you in the aisles i pass by in the book store. i find you in the crumpled photos that used to be pinned in my middle school locker. i hear your voice in the words of the novels i read. i imagine your laughter when i crack open a carbonated drink by the train station on a humid summer day. i see you when the cherry blossoms begin to fall in the spring. but is it all in my memories or just my imagination?

you’ve been living in you small-ish town for years. although you spent your first couple years in a different place, you managed to make this one feel like home. despite being a quiet soul, people know you by name due to your bright smiles or kind demeanor. you were always labeled to be hardworking and smart. although you sported some cons, like sucking at physical ed, (which everyone does, they just make you feel like an asshole for not being an athlete) you still had your own little fun facts that made you unique. but entering middle school became hell. friends you created during childhood drifted away, girls became obsessed with being popular, and boys did nothing smart while making you feel stupid. it felt like you wanted a hole to swallow you up and bring you somewhere else, wherever that may be.

as years passed by and seasons went, the air of your now hometown became suffocating. some would call it seasonal depression, but is it seasonal if it lingers? you’d lie in your bed with your earbuds disregarded next to your ears with volume loud enough you could still hear the music. skies would be grey while your body would ache. you weren’t sure if it was the toll of being “smart” or being lazy, as your mother would say. this feeling had never left your body. maybe it came with growing up or just being a girl (🎀)

every now and then while doing a simple activity you couldn’t help but wonder if people would notice your if your presence was gone. chopping vegetables? you have a knife, cut- no. cleaning the railing? jump- no. soaking in a bath? drow- no. intrusive thoughts entered your brain exponentially. but luckily, you were hoping to change that.

as the birds chirp in the sky and the sun blares through the windows, you lay your head down on the cold desk. the classroom is close to empty as people spend time running the track or soaking in the sun amidst the month of may. the wind from the open window brushes past your back, sweeping through the wrinkles of your uniform. you feel a cold drink press against your neck as you jolt from the condensation dripping down your back. he sits there behind you with his head thrown back in laughter.

“i thought you would’ve heard my footsteps since you always complain how loud they are.”

“you’re not prominent enough for me to pay attention to, ej,” you say, sticking your tongue out.

his wild laughter calms to a soft, toothy smile. he twists open the lid of the pocari sweat, knowing you can never open it yourself. maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself from the sweat that coats his forearms, but something about ej had sparked your eye that day. from his gentlemanly actions to this shy playful nature, it’d be a lie to say you weren’t attracted to him. you take the drink and thank him silently as he watches you doodle on the bottle while taking sips of the drink.

“are you coming after school?” he questions. “we can get food.”

you were always hard to convince when it comes to after school hangouts. your head was buried in the academic team and the endless studies that you’d put off till 9 pm even though you cancelled to be “productive.” every time you’d promise the boys that you’d hang out next time, but it was never fulfilled. at the times you would meet, your mind would clear but the heaviness of your commitments and assignments would proceed to pile on your shoulders, giving you invisible weight that you didn’t know if you could bare with it any longer.

“maybe,” you reply.

“oh come on, it’s near the end of the school year, talk might move, nicho’s going to another school, k’s gonna be graduating. who knows when you’d hang out again.”

“we’re gonna see k after he graduates, he’s still staying near by, you know the city isn’t too far. besides, he can cry about it.” you snicker. “and we still have time with everyone else, juju.”

“wow, you’re such a buzzkill.” he rolls his eyes.

“oh, but you love it.”

*..+__🖇️__* ⋆.˚⟡ ˖° 🫧** . ۫ ꣑ৎ . 🪽__**+..🥽⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

you ended up giving in. your glasses and flipped notebooks were abandoned on your desk at home as you grabbed your phone and your tiny backpack and flew out the house, slamming the front door shut. your loosely tied converse threatened to slip off your feet as you biked the basketball court next to the town square. the poorly typed message you sent informing the group chat you were coming left your inbox blowing up in seconds.

“i’m here!” you huff, out of breath with sweat trickling down your temple. you’re enveloped in a back hug as maki’s scent blankets your senses. your hand is over his as he keeps his arms resting on your shoulders.

“about damn time, i can’t believe we actually still expect you to come.” he laughs.

“you’re making me sweat, maki,” you complain, swatting him away playfully while he presses closer out of spite.

fuma throws you a wave from the benches with his button down slung around his neck, leaving him in his white tank. nicholas and k are too engrossed in the game; the basketball thumping against the green court. harua puts a hand above his eyes to shade the sun before calling your name, beckoning you over. you speed walk over, avoiding the ball and jump by the rest of them, sitting on the bleachers. jo silently cheers the other members on as he eats the lunch he never finishes. yuma lies next to harua yelling at taki to quit distracting him from the game.

nicho calls your name. “this one’s for you watch! watch!” he throws the ball, his shirt lifting slightly as he jumps, making it in the basket. you can hear k cheer as nicholas dances in victory and ej claps his hands in amusement. they all circle around near the benches and the bleachers for a break. you lean your head against maki’s shoulder as he sits behind you.

“i thought i was making you sweat?” he teases.

“shut up.” you retort. in retrospect, you’d say you were closest to ej, but that would only apply because you shared classes. you were evidently closer to maki due to the brainrot you shared as he mindlessly scrolled through the internet as you studied next to him your freshman year. you never got the chance to get close with them the same way you were with certain members of the group but you knew that you all loved each other. you can’t truly recall when this friend group started. maybe it was when you ran into fuma on the first day of school like a cliché romance novel. or when nicholas would whisper in your ear for answers during tests. or maybe even when yuma approached you every gym class to make sure you weren’t alone. they were always a clique of their own; popular amongst girls in the school. despite all the talk, they never made themselves involved in romance. it was indeed unusual that you joined but they never made you feel like you didn’t belong. as you pondered deeply, nicholas could see your eyes wander into space, looking into the distance.

he finished his last sip of water before saying, “do you remember that one time when we were on omegle when we had a field trip to jeju island?” he laughs comically.

“oh my god, we got yelled at the administrator for being so loud!” maki adds.

“hey, it didn’t help when k and rua were making ramen, the smoke alarm almost went off!”

“wow, ok, you guys can’t say anything when you screamed at a guy showing his dick on video!!” harua yells, pointing a finger

“you guys didn’t even skip, fuma had to do it for you!” i say.

“i still have the photo!!” yuma laughs.

“wait, i wanna see,” taki pokes yuma by his sides. k shakes his head disapprovingly.

“oh, does someone still have the group photo?” jo says. ej shuffles in his bag before finding the crumpled polaroid of the ten of you, sat in a circle around the ramen with the computer screen in the back blaring white.

“omg, isn’t that kai?” fuma points out, looking at you.

“the guy that you liked??” k says, wiggling his eyebrows i your direction. your face flushes.

“okay, can we shut up?? im pretty sure he thinks i’m weird anyways.”

“that’s such a lie,” ej mutters. “there’s nothing wrong with being weird.”

“hey you snuck into our dorm that night because you wanted to see him, stalker!” fuma teases. you shake your head as a smile cracks on your face. a flash appears in front of your face as taki giggles with the camera in front of him.

“hey! take that back!” you scream, running after taki

*..+__🖇️__* ⋆.˚⟡ ˖° 🫧** . ۫ ꣑ৎ . 🪽__**+..🥽⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

night comes faster than you expect, fireflies begin to come out in the field. the boys have discarded discomfort of their school jackets and run across the field as you sit in the grass. the feeling of fireflies crawling on your skin creeps you out a little, but the cool air kisses your arms and brushes your baby hairs.

“what’s wrong?” k whispers, taking a seat next to you.

“nothing,” you fib, biting your lip.

“liar,” he pulls the lip between your teeth with his pointer finger to stop your hurting habits.

“truly, it’s nothing. i just.. i don’t know.”

“you don’t have to know, just voice it out, i’ll listen.”

“i don’t want all of this to be over.” it was like a light bulb clicked in your head. with them, your thoughts were no longer flooded with sadness or pain or heaving commitments. instead, you felt the love you lacked. always claiming to be fine, they’d know you were lying through your teeth. you appreciated them for distracting you but they appreciated you for caring for them like a mother when you couldn’t even do it for yourself.

“why, you gonna miss me?” he jokes. before you could reply he circles an arm around you, knowing that whatever you’d say, the realization of everyone leaving is sinking in. you’d miss him. all of them. all of this.

nicholas offers a ride home, but you decline, not wanting to leave your bike behind. they all hug you goodbye and goodnight, joking about how they might never hang out with you again. you scoff playfully before hopping on your bike.

the night air is crisp and your legs begin to burn from the ride. you’re still in their sight as you leave. wind cards through your hair as you listen to the rhythm of your heartbeat. laughter and memories echos in your mind. maybe for the first time in years you feel fulfillment and happiness. your breath curls in the wind as the street lights flicker. little droplets of rain begin to come down from the dark sky. the rain begins to pick up, your tires sliding against the wet pavement. you look down for a moment, hearing the slight hiss of your tire before catching a bright glow in the corner of your eye and a large roar of an engine. your head snaps up. everything is too close, too fast. your bike’s mechanics fail on you. the headlights get brighter as you fail to break or bike away. before you know it, your limbs feel heavy. everything is burning hot. you’re unfamiliar with the feeling but it heaves down on you, crushing you. you lay there as the pocari sweat bottle from your bag rolls away on the road, collecting dirt in the crevices before popping open near your weak hand. maybe ej would be proud you opened it yourself this time. thoughts ran through your head as the tinnitus worsened along with the blur in your eyes. you were no longer sure if you were crying or if it was just the impact of your head hitting the pavement. you also weren’t sure if you felt pain or numbness. but you did know that the voices of people panicking lightened. a hand moves your head. your eyes meet ej’s as you make out the familiar faces beside him. nicholas rips off his beanie as long bottled up tears roll down his eyes. ej caresses your face while fuma lays a hand under your head, attempting to keep you comfortable and conscious. you can’t hear it but you know the words that leaves maki’s mouth tells you to listen to him and to stay alive. he holds your hand. you can’t imagine how weird it must look to be surrounded by them. hell, you can’t even think. your breath quickens but all you inhale is the fall of the rain. flickering streetlights and cloudy skies fill your vision. you recall past summers of spending time with the group. holding hands with ej, coffee dates with maki, arcade games with yuma, movie nights with nicholas, jumping in unknown lakes with taki, board games with harua, late night snacks with jo, shopping with fuma, and late night conversations with k. all of a sudden you yearn for their eyes that sparkled like the stars at night. your voice is muffled as you mutter a name. your body jolts as those same headlights and the sounding horn run through your mind before closing your eyes, chest shuddering.

you ended up getting what you wished for, right?

*..+__🖇️__* ⋆.˚⟡ ˖° 🫧** . ۫ ꣑ৎ . 🪽__**+..🥽⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

that moment passed like a haze. rain fell heavy and the mood shifted. they hear the crash of the mechanics and a familiar silhouette discarded on the ground. the image burned in their minds. with no hesitation, k ran to you first. the scene unraveled strangely fast yet slow. disbelief knocked the wind out their bodies. it wasn’t a horror that lived in their minds, but a terror they now experienced. that night of shared laughter shifted to punches thrown out of unresolved anger and unhealable sobs rolling down their faces. taki crumpled the photo of you close to his heart, hiding from the punches they all threw. the only photo he had that captured the candid moment that now became a moment of nostalgia. nicholas blamed himself for not insisting on a ride home. ej picked up the drink by your hand, cherishing your drawings on the bottle. may had never felt the same since then. after that, the town fell silent.

k dropped out mid way his freshman year in college. taki refused to go back. nicholas visited every year, even after graduating. maki stopped going to school. ej spent nights away. they all fell apart, coping in their own ways, but never together.

when they said goodbye, they knew there wouldn’t be a next time to hang out; they just didn’t expect it to be in that way.

unfortunately, you were no longer there to wipe the same may rain that dampens their faces each year.

authors note: i might’ve deleted a paragraph on accident idk

[kitashousewife]

rooftops

an: i just got hit with this little idea idk what's going on lmao but i was inspired by rooftops by surfaces!

pairings: timeskip!tsukishima x fem!reader

warnings: anxiety, childhood friends to lovers, food/drink and eating mentions, he is a mommas boy i decided

-

tsukishima huffs as soon as he hangs up the call, resisting the urge to throw his phone onto the breakroom chair. another apartment rejection, making that the fourth one this week. his fingers rub his eyes beneath his glasses as he accepts defeat once and for all.

after his shift today, he will be driving himself and his many boxes of belongings in his car back to his childhood home. for how long? he's not sure.

that's the worst part, in his opinion.

the lease was up for the apartment that he shared with yamaguchi. sure, he could've renewed and stayed for another year. but he just needed a change. for the last few weeks, the two boys had spent every evening researching different apartments closer to their jobs without any luck. any place that did have availability was conveniently snatched up before they could press send on the application.

kei drives home that afternoon with a weird feeling in his stomach. a mix between nostalgia and disappointment that only gets stronger as he drives into town. the late spring brought blooming trees and swaying flowers, welcoming him back home again. when he pulls into the driveway, though, he feels tired.

besides his housing search, he recently lost out on a great promotion at work. he wasn't too torn up about it until he learned that it was because he was too committed to volleyball. yet another time when his interests and reality butted heads. he's been having some tougher practices lately, exhausting his body as well as his mind.

"hi mom," he mumbles, ducking his head as he opens his car door. "i'm sorry about all of this. i'll be out as soon as i can."

his mom only smiles, reaching in to grab a couple of his boxes.

"you can stay as long as you would like. besides, how lucky am i to have my son home again?" she kisses his cheek while he bends down to grab a few things, and he shakes his head despite the smile tugging at his lips.

"what happened with this last place?" she asks, setting the boxes down in his childhood room, dusting her hands off.

"who knows. they called me during my break but they didn't give a reason," kei sighs. the weird feeling bubbles in his stomach once more as he takes in his old room. "at this point i think they have it out for tadashi and i."

"maybe it just isn't meant to be!" his mom says over her shoulder as they go downstairs for the last few things. kei rolls his eyes at that. ever the optimist, his mom.

"how is she?"

he shuts the door to his car and rolls his eyes once more, but this time his mom just laughs.

"she's fine. still working, i suppose."

as soon as the two of you started dating, kei tried his best to keep his mom in the dark in hopes of avoiding her teasing. it didn't work, of course, she found out the day of from your own mom.

the one downside of being childhood friends.

it had only been a few weeks, navigating the now romantic side of your relationship, but everything felt right. it felt safe.

"you should have her over tonight! i would love to see her."

"i'm sure you would," kei says from behind his water glass. "she's probably tired, though. maybe this weekend."

his mom blinks at him from across the kitchen counter.

"what."

"you haven't told her."

he throws his head back. "no, mom, i haven't. what am i supposed to say? oh by the way i moved back in with my mom?" when he sits upright, he's met with a bowl of pork and rice.

"kei, you're being ridiculous. for one, you guys have known each other for what, fifteen years?"

"seventeen."

"fine, seventeen years. she's probably been here more times than you could count. plus, you and i both know she wouldn't say anything. she loves you no matter what."

as he chews, he thinks that his mom is probably right. but what if she isn't? besides, what woman wants to be with someone that still lives with their mom?

"i think i'm going to unpack. thanks for the food mom."

he trudges up the stairs, looking at the photos that line the walls. framed school portraits, other small photos like the one of him and akiteru in the backyard with superhero capes, and of course the framed photo of you and kei at the school dance your third year. when he gets into his room, he flops onto his bed the same way he did a few years before. he lifts his head to look out the window and smiles.

are you off work? i'm at my moms if you want to stop by.

he stares at the ceiling for a few minutes, contemplating unpacking when you text back.

i would love to :)

you got off work around 5, stopping at your place to change when kei texted you. your apartment is only a short walk from your old neighborhood, so you decided to enjoy the nice weather and walk over.

while you walked, you thought about how far the two of you had come. growing up in the same neighborhood with moms who became best friends meant you spent a lot of time with kei and akiteru. running through the sprinkler while your moms gossiped over lemonade, trick or treating with tadashi, and of course birthday parties. your friendship continued through school and college, late nights sprawled out on the couch while tadashi and kei held smash tournaments, sunday afternoons studying at your kitchen tables, and of course volleyball games.

you laugh to yourself, thinking about how your teenage self would react to hearing that the two of you are now dating, not just friends but something much more. magical and comfortable all at the same time.

"hey."

you look around the front of the tsukishima home, but your boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

"up here."

"kei? what the heck are you doing?"

sitting on the flat part of the roof beneath his bedroom window, your boyfriend leans back on his elbows. sitting in the same spot the two of you have sat hundreds of times before.

"what took you so long? that snail at the end of the driveway made it three laps around by the time you got here."

"i walked. what are you doing up there?"

he smirks. "come up and find out. mom knows you're coming."

you walk in through the front door, greeted by his mom before running up the stairs and to the right.

"what's the surprise?" you climb out of his window, grabbing his hand that he offers you before sitting down.

"nothing. just wanted to sit up here. the sun should be setting in a bit."

you hum. "what's brought you to your moms?"

kei doesn't say anything, but he grabs his hand in yours. his lack of response makes you raise an eyebrow.

"kei?"

he sighs. "i moved back in," his voice is quiet and mumbled, but he stares straight ahead. the sunset light making his freckles stand out on his cheeks. you're sure his eyes are bright and golden, but he wont look at you.

"well, you'll be closer to me," you nudge his side and he snorts, still looking forward. "but that's okay. wanna talk about it?"

"there's not much to say," he turns to you now. you can tell he's embarrassed. his cheeks are a little pink, matching the tips of his ears. he lets out a tired sigh. "our lease was up, but every single place we applied to has turned us down. we had to be out of there so i came home," like a child dies on his tongue. you're playing with his fingers in your lap.

"and tadashi?"

kei smiles. you can't help but wonder about your friend. you've always been this way, worrying about everyone else first.

"he's staying at his parents as well."

he feels extremely relaxed, every nervous feeling dissipating as the sun sets. his mom was right, but he'll never tell her that.

"how long are you staying?"

his fingers take his glasses in hand, twirling them for a second before turning to you. a sight you don't see as often as you'd like.

"until i find somewhere to stay is my guess. a week, maybe more. i just hate this," he covers his eyes, now laying back fully against the shingles of the roof. "seriously embarrassing."

"says who?"

he peeks at you through his fingers. "everyone."

you stare ahead towards the sunset again. your thoughts go back and forth for a minute or so, both of you sitting in silence. the scary thing about your relationship is the same as the best thing: your history. it's amazing because you know each other so well, you've been a part of each other's accomplishments and experiences. but at the same time, one wrong move and that could all go away, turning into only memories.

"i don't think it's embarrassing. you have a mother who loves you and welcomes you home. plus, at least your mom didn't turn your room into storage like mine," you deride, earning a smirk and a snort from your boyfriend. "but if it's that big of a deal to you, why don't you just move in with me?"

you stop, mouth shutting quickly to stop any other words from flying out. your face heats up and you stare ahead, refusing to see the reaction from the man laying beside you.

he's just as shocked as you. he looks up at the pink sky for a few seconds.

"o-okay."

"what?"

he sits up slowly, leaning back on his elbows once more, before slipping on his glasses. he turns to you with a small smile.

"i mean, why not. unless you didn't mean it,"

your eyes go wide. "no, i mean it! i mean, why not. i have the space, it's just me and i have an extra room you could use as an office. plus i already have a bed, and-"

"you're messy though."

you scoff. "i am not!"

he smirks, pulling you closer to lean into his chest. "i should move in so keep an eye on you. keep you from staying up too late. besides, i'm a great roommate. you would be lucky to have me."

you laugh. "i am lucky to have you, you're right."

kei stutters for a moment, before relaxing again. he's still not used to your compliments and flirting, but he can't get enough. he squeezes you a little tighter, kissing the top of your head.

"when can i move in?"

"monday? that way you can spend the weekend with your mom?"

he hums. "i like that plan."

the two of you sit on the roof for a while longer, watching the rest of the sunset in peace. kei feels happier, so excited to finally have somewhere to call home. he's actually thought about this for a while, coming home to you after a long day, going to bed with you and waking up to do it all again. being there for you when you’re sad, no longer relying on facetime or a quick call.

but for now he will enjoy the weekend, pretending to be young again.

he won’t admit it, but he’s also glad to live so close to home. but he can’t let his mom hear that.

[fairuzfan]

I saw your post about the Henna Night, hope it's ok for this comment from a Palestinian living in Diaspora who spent her child/teen/young lady years living in Palestine. Every village/city/family in Palestine of course does things a little different than others, this is my own experiences from going to like 100 weddings, lmao. Imo there is simply no Wedding like a Palestinian Wedding, it's the cultural backbone of our society gatherings. I personally hate when people compare a Henna Night to a Bridal Shower bc it's not interchangeable at all, but I acknowledge that westernization as well as accommodation's of Palestinians living in Diaspora has lead to people comparing Henna Night/Bridal Showers and have interjected Bridal Shower stuff into our tradition. Imo Henna Night is way more fun than the actual Wedding, I always loved going to those more. So the Bride's side of the family prepares for the Henna Night by inviting close family, friends, and usually women from the Groom's side as well. The Bride's family spends the day before or the day of the Henna Night preparing Henna Platters. As well as small bags of candy & small bags/cones of Henna paste as things to give to guests. Depending on the wealth of the family sometimes there more stuff but those are the main things, but usually there is always something to give the guests like tea, coffee, sodas, and sweets. During the Henna everyone wears Thobes, it's so beautiful to see the different styles of our Thobes. The Bride looks so beautiful in a Thobe/Headdress, I love it. The Bride's family also prepare platters of Henna decorated with flowers that (usually) the old woman/matriarchs will have the honor of carrying it on their heads (some dance without holding onto the platters with their hands! so iconic) as the women dance in a circle around the Bride. The grandmothers, or whichever woman with a good strong voice who Zagreet (idk how to do transliteration) but its singing where the lead singer will call out lines like "Heeyee this girl is the most beautiful in the world! Heeyeee we have come to celebrate her happiness! Heeyyeee may Allah's blessings fall upon this most gracious girl!" the lines are always made up on the spot so the singer has to have a sharp mind, the singer will also make up lines singing about the Bride, her smarts, beauty, personality, her generosity, or the generosity of her family, compliments to the Bride's mother, etc. These are always ended with the Ululation (trilling sound) that all women make at the end. During the Henna Night there's lots of singing, dancing, music playing, it always takes place at the Bride's Mother's house so its just such a cozy feeling of womanhood/family & bringing in the women of the new groom's family into the circle. Old women sitting on cushions/chairs with their canes, someone has a tubla (hand drum) & is playing, little girls in their thobes running around, teens showing off their thobes, the Bride's family, sisters, cousins, aunts, serving sweets & drinks, the Bride being celebrated. Continued...

omgggg i love reading this so much thank you.

yeah the bridal shower is not a great analogy because bridal showers in like the us are... not at all a celebration i feel like of the women the same way henna night is. you're right weddings are the cultural backbone in a way that i think a lot of nonpalestinians dont realize because of how many traditions they use throughout the whole ordeal.

[onewmin]

so it goes | kim mingyu

Pairing: idol!Kim Mingyu x idol!(implied)fem!reader (but can be gn!reader)

Summary: Perhaps, you shouldn’t be thinking about Mingyu at your friend’s party. Perhaps, you have to stop reminiscing about the night you spent with him. Perhaps, it’s too late for you to fall head over heels for someone. Or maybe, you’re not too old for the sweetest guy you’ve ever met.

Genre: Fluff, suggestive (if you squint), overall, two people are falling in love

Word count: 2184

Warnings: AU (cause in no way I’m saying it’s real), the reader is torn apart, mentions of cheating, slightly suggestive, the reader is older, mentions of social pressure

Author’s note: idk what it is but here we are. it’s pretty short and is mostly focused on the reader (it’s becoming my signature mark I guess lmao). Hope your enjoy it! Tell me what you think <3 p.s. the pictures are taken from Pinterest, so if you know the owners, please let me know so I could credit them! header cr — @/minzvk on Pinterest.

Disclaimer: the names and the appearances of real people are taken for the writing purposes only.

You did something bad. It’s not something illegal that could get you in jail, nor it is anything to be ashamed of. Well, technically, your media persona would be destroyed in an instance if they found out what happened.

As you glide through the chitchat, giving sweet smiles, bowing and trying to hold two drinks in your hands, you look for Jihyo, who seems to be lost in the crowd. It was her party, the celebration of her solo debut, and the club was filled with every other idol possible. The person you did the bad thing with included.

“Ah, there you are'', you panted, shoving a drink in Jihyo’s hands, “it’s impossible to get through here”.

She nodded, taking a sip, and immediately engaged in a conversation with somebody else. No matter how happy and supportive you were of your friend, your mind couldn’t help but wander, couldn’t help but think about the bad deed that happened two days ago. How horribly brainwashed were you to think doing that thing was the end of the world?

Sipping on your drink, your eyes wandered around the room too. Not wearing your contacts was a terrible idea as now you couldn’t recognize anybody unless they were close to you. Or unless they stood right in front of you, waving their hands closely to your face. Perhaps, it was for the best — you wouldn’t be able to see his face as well.

Your phone buzzed in the pocket of your jeans. Reading the message, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, as you nervously ran your hand through your hair.

“Can’t stop thinking about you”.

You raised your eyes from your phone screen, turning your head in desperate attempts to find him. To notice him from across the room didn’t even require you squinting your eyes — he was the only person who stared directly, shamelessly. You could swear he smirked when you looked back at him; however, maybe it was your imagination, playing dirty with your already burning mind.

You ran your hands through the hair again, sighing deeply and staring at your screen. Scrolling up your almost one-sided texting with the contact ‘Mingyu’, your brain couldn’t focus on anything but the memories of him from two nights ago.

‘Please don’t ignore me’.

‘Mingyu, we can’t’.

‘Why?’

‘Please answer me. Please’.

‘Just tell me why. Tell me why and I won’t bother u ever again’.

Easier said than done. Why, Mingyu? The answer is both simple and overcomplicated at the same time. Because you were older than him — not too much, he was just three years younger. Three years younger, super popular and way out of your league. That’s what you were confident about; although, Mingyu was absolutely different in his opinions. But just to think about it… You debuted almost twelve years ago, when he was, what? Thirteen? Fourteen? Isn’t it weird?

Only in your head, perhaps.

But in these twelve years you did your absolute best to never be caught in any dating scandals. Even with your ex-boyfriend of nine years, who was an ex-trainee turned into a dancer, you never went public. First because you both were too young, and your agency didn’t allow dating (who listens to them anyway, right?); second — you were too busy with your schedule, singing, blooming acting career and university studies to even consider having a public relationship; and third? Because he didn’t want to. He enjoyed living in comfort of being incognito, of having no responsibilities publicly. He could flirt with girls, get on dating apps, go out with random ladies and eventually, as you found out later, sleep around in your shared bed. In the bed that you bought. In the house that you paid for. Yeah, it was hurtful to catch him red-handed, but hating him helped come through the breakup faster. A year and half with the therapist's help, moving from the house to the apartment, getting a dog and a cat, and gaining new hobbies and friends — yeah, you were much better off without his jealous ass.

To consider dating after him, though? Wasn’t possible. Building up trust from scratch after you’d spent almost a decade with one person wasn’t even on the table. So you thought.

You knew Mingyu long before you changed agencies, almost right from their debut. He never failed to tell you how much of a fan he was, his cheeks turning rosy, while he was fiddling with his fingers. He seemed like a nice, sweet boy. Until a month ago.

“Oh, Mingyu!” Someone exclaimed, pulling you from your ever-wandering thoughts. “Good to see you!”

Oh god, he was right in front of you now. The black baggy T-shirt he wore was probably the exact same one from two nights before. Yeah, it was that tee. Oh shit.

“Mingyu”, you whimpered, back pressed to the wall, as his hands were roaming around your body.

“What, love?” He murmured, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck. The unexpected pet name he’d given you sent vibrations down your spine, turning you into a melted vanilla ice-cream under a scorching sun.

“We…can’t”. Your words came out as a whisper when he stopped all of his movements to look at you. His dark chestnut eyes magnificently bewitching — as if he had put a spell on you.

“Why?” He uttered, hands squeezing your waist. “We’re both attracted to each other, why not?”

You sighed, unable to give an answer. Your reasoning seemed to fall down at his feet, as it started to appear stupid at the moment. Who cares if you are three years older? He’s not far behind, a responsible adult, who’s also the most attractive person you’ve ever met. Not to mention he’s super smart, ready to pull up in his car to any place you call him from and makes the best homemade pasta in the world. When he holds your hand, gently rubbing your palm, you could swear it fits his big ones perfectly, and when he puts his arms around your waist, chin resting on your head, the heat of his body warming you in cool late August nights – as if you were born to eventually be loved by him. One night with him, preceded by a couple of months of pining, of watching him dance, talk, laugh, run, smile, blush, run hands through his hair, sheepishly bring you a coffee because he thought of you in the coffee shop… Mingyu drove you home endless times when your car was being repaired, and every time he did, he would walk you right to the door of your apartment, to make sure you got home safely. You couldn’t, you can’t count the moments when you thought of him. Every day. Every night. Every minute of your day, even those you spent in the studio. And when the pining was too much, it resulted in a cheek kiss turned into a heavy breathing and making out against the wall of your living room.

You hand touched his cheek. His eyes were clouded with desire as he observed your every move, leaning into your touch. “No reason”. You didn’t let your doubts take over the moment. Not with him.

And now Mingyu was standing right in front of you, a silver chain on his neck glimmering in the dim light of the club. The thought about this same chain, dangling on his neck and sending shivers all over your body every time it touched your skin when he was kissing you in the dark of your room, seemed to absolutely absorb you. And your shameless staring didn’t escape Mingyu’s attention either.

“You seem busy these days”, he said, obviously hinting at you ignoring his texts. You let out a sigh, not having the slightest idea what response you could give him.

“I have a comeback soon”, you cleared your throat, “so there’s a lot to do”.

He nodded. “Avoiding me included?” That horribly smug smirk made you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He did not just say that here, where multiple people could hear him.

“Let’s not talk about it here”, you leaned in to almost mumble it in his ear. He glanced at your lips, a slight head tilt away from his. It was too late when you realized how close you were, but Mingyu didn’t let you get away easily when he grabbed your hand.

“As you wish”. He almost dragged you from the spot you were hanging around, his hand squeezing yours a bit too hard. You felt as if you were under scrutiny, when every other person in the club was eyeballing the scene that Mingyu created. However, no one seemed to take notice of him taking you out of the club. Hopefully, none of your girlfriends did – otherwise, you’d have to deal with their constant taunting forever. They always joked how you were the ‘least scandalized’ concerning your dating life (and less experienced, as you spent your younger years being practically married to one man). And if they find out about Mingyu? A never-ending saga it would be.

When you were outside, a group of paparazzi almost caught you – or so you thought – but Mingyu was quick enough to move to the opposite direction, where no photographers or strangers could catch you. He took you to the parking lot, right to his car.

The place was empty, not many cars were occupying the parking spaces. At one point, when you observed the area, you dropped his hand. However, it didn’t help: Mingyu took both of your hands in his immediately, gently rubbing your palms once again.

“Did I do something wrong?” He muttered, eyes glued to your hands. An immediate string of pain poked your heart, as you heard his brittle voice. He was too good to make him feel this way.

‘No”, you shook your head, cupping his cheeks and bringing his gaze back to your face, “it’s not about you, Mingyu”.

“Then what’s wrong?” He asked, his hands sweetly squeezing your wrists.

You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. That was so stupid, so… You couldn’t even find the words to describe what you were feeling. No matter how much you liked Mingyu, the thought of public going mad about the two of you dating was eating you from the inside. And the fact that you were slightly older than him… The whole stigma of women being older than their boyfriends was so terribly bizarre, to the point when even your cousin (whose partner was a year younger than her) was dragged by the whole family and called ‘too old’ for him. And you were three years older! What would they do to you? And what’s most important, what would the public do? How horribly would they tear your career apart? And what would they do to him?

“I don’t think..” You stuttered, looking down at your feet, “I don’t think I’m a good match for you”.

“Why would you ever think that?” It was his turn to cup your cheeks now to make you look at him. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted”.

“But the age-“

“Are you, like, what? Eighty?” The corners of your mouth quirked up. “I… I have feelings for you. I like you, I’ve had a crush on you since I first saw you”, he said under his breath, “and I know you feel the same way”.

The eye-contact seemed to be a non-verbal communication for the two of you; otherwise, if your gazes could speak, they would declare love poems for the whole world to hear. You weren’t sure what to respond, because, no matter how much the public opinion had altered so many things about you to fit in their idealistic standards, you, from the moment Mingyu and you got stuck in the elevator several months ago, from the moment you noticed his soft smile, had his silky voice be your shy companion for half an hour — from that moment alone you were mesmerized by him. Captivated. Did it really matter what the public would think?

“I do”. You almost gasped when his eyes lit up at your response. An angelic smile adorned his face, a face so delighted you could swear he had a garland behind him to lighten up the darkness of the night.

“Then let me take you home”, he murmured into your lips, “let me take you home every day”.

How in the world could you say no to him?

So it goes. Him, driving his car, stealing kisses from you at the red light and squeezing your hand in his; and you, catching the glimpse of every little thing he does, just so you can savour these memories when he’s far away. It feels different — to be able to fall in love slowly, feeling his and yours palms sweat whenever you hold hands; to laugh at stupid jokes the two of you make, to cuddle on the couch, while watching TV, to go on picnic dates, to finally be loved. Perhaps, this is everything you ever wanted.

[onboardsorasora]

Another 'idk what this is' post lmao. But my attempt at girl!Dan

Daniel entered the event, ducking her head a little to let her curls— that were more defined and perfect looking— cover her face a little. She was a little uncomfortable, but Blake and the stylist from their new main sponsor said she looked good.

This wasn’t the sort of outfit she normally went for, the flared pants were different to her usual (ripped) skinny jeans, but they cupped her ass and thighs in a very flattering way. The top was definitely nothing she had in her closet, it was slinky and metallic and exposed her entire back— which was a work of art thanks to her years of work and effort.

Christian, the man of the hour, was the first to see her and his eyes widened in surprise was enough to tell her that this deviation from her usual outfits was ‘radical’ indeed.

“Daniel. Wow.” Daniel smiled in embarrassment. She didn't surprise Christian often, in fact she last time she surprised him was in 2014 when she beat Seb. And maybe in 2018 when she signed for Renault. But that was different.

“Happy Birthday Boss!” Daniel grinned, clinging to Geri when she came over to hug her as well. Geri’s hand on her bare back felt odd but not as weird as she anticipated.

“Is this Hugo?” Geri asked, figuring the tiny eyelets that made up her top. Daniel nodded, she was head to toe in the former Alpha Tauri’s new sponsor. All her jewelry to her shoes. Even her underwear– including the nipple pasties.

“Yeah, Kelly the stylist came prepared.” Daniel joked. She knew Yuki was wandering around somewhere, he'd been marginally easier to dress and Daniel had many moments tonight where she wished she hadn't grown out her hair.

“Have you seen Max?” Christian asked, his voice was odd, maybe.

“No, I just walked in actually. Haven't even had a drink yet.”

“Of course, of course.” Christian nodded before encouraging her to chat with the executives around, all the important people invited to Christian’s 50th in Vegas. The race was in a few days, Daniel hoped she could stay the minimum amount of time and go.

She'd spent a little time talking to some new Alpha Tauri– Hugo Boss executives before she wandered to the bar. She leaned forward on her elbows, swiping her loose curls over one shoulder.

“hi, can I get you a drink?” A familiar voice sounded from her right and Daniel tucked her head on her palm and smiled over at her friend and former teammate.

“It's an open bar mate. Does that actually work on women?” She grinned at Max who took a moment to piece her voice with the person he was looking at. If she thought Christian’s surprise was impressive, Max's was almost a religious experience.

“Daniel? Wow– I didn't recognize you.” Max gushed, eyes wide. He was blushing, and Daniel fought hers to continue to tease him.

“So about this open bar, I'd love a tequila.” Daniel grinned at him, she could feel the gloss on her lips when she smiled widely. She hoped her eyes weren't completely hidden by her new lashes.

Max looked... Well she'd never seen him look [at her] like this before. He kept looking her up and down; like he was seeing her for the first time, like he didn't recognize her.

A bartender came over at Max's wave as if they knew that he specifically wasn't to be left waiting. Daniel wondered if her own picture was taped up at the back of the bar but they didn't recognize her with her new look. It didn't matter because Max ordered exactly what she wanted, down to the brand of tequila she preferred and how she liked her glass prepared. She didn't realize he paid this close attention.

Max handed her the drink, his fingers lingering on hers for a beat longer than normal. Daniel smiled at him in thanks, determined not to think too deep into it. It was Max– nothing was happening.

Max smiled his crinkley eyed smile at her as if she'd said something funny– she hadn't. Then led her away from the bar with a hand to the small of her back.

It felt…different than when Geri did it. Geri's fingers mainly did the touching, Max's palm was pressed into her skin, branding her like a tattoo. It's apt because her back was the only place she hadn't yet covered in ink.

Max was talking to her, but she couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. Hyper aware of his skin against hers. It wasn't like it was the first time he's led her around with a proprietary hand, in fact it was pretty normal. But she'd never… she'd never noticed it until now. Not until it was skin against skin. It was harder to hide when there were no clothes to hide behind.

“Daniel, are you paying attention?” Max's voice broke her thoughts and she sipped her drink for something to do.

“Sorry Maxy, got a bit distracted there.” She bit her lip, letting it go quickly at the taste of lipgloss. She truly wasn't used to it. She looked at Max through her new lashes– his gaze was on her lips.

“I, of course, understand.” He murmured, it sounded as if he didn't even realize he was talking. “Daniel I–”

“Ricciardo Daniel, as I live and breathe. Is that you?” George interrupted and Daniel had never before now wished George could disappear so she could hear what Max had been going to say. He had shaken his head as if to clear his thoughts and taken a sip of his gin tonic.

Daniel smiled at George, wildly wondering if she imagined the twitch of Max's hand on her back.

“Russel George! it is I, I am me!” She chuckled and glanced over at Max to see he'd adopted his resting ‘go away’ face. Daniel was starting to feel lightheaded.

Part 2

[hroscek]

✎📃Dottore studying headcanons📚

Back again with more Dottore content. This is a bit of a mix between a modern au but still somehow compliant with Genshin? Idk I just wanted to write ab him studying and projecting finding inspiration in my own life without having to explain how he has access to YouTube in his akademiya days okay? Anyways enjoy and make sure to study if you happen to be procrastinating at the moment (I will know)!

⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜

Dottore study headcanons

Probably the type that ultra-focuses on the material in front of him leading to generally neglecting any and all other needs until he physically can't anymore (nearly burnt down his dorm via hair catching fire from a candle when he fell asleep at the desk)

Thinks he's above attending lectures so he'd definitely be that one student that never shows up but still ends up acing the exams.

Fully believes that he must achieve a state of total focus to optimize his brain. This starts as threatening the other students into leaving him alone as he studies, drawing the curtains and shutting out all other distractions. Probably spent too much on finding a good noise-cancelling headset.

After getting kicked out gracefully parting ways with the akademiya he devoted some time to trying to find ways to improve his focus even more. I'm talking full blown rounds of experimentation with different methods such as binaural beats (actually works tbh), sensory deprivation tanks etc. Sort of how greater lord rukkhadevata would shut herself away to meditate, but he would never admit how similar their methods are.

Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if the original Dottore is just floating in a state of meditation rn trying to achieve max brain power (legit a headcanon for me now lmao).

Seeing as he probably doesn't sleep much, especially when in the thick of experiments he tries his best to compensate in other ways. He drank an inhuman amount of coffee or energy drinks (or both at the same time tbh) until he grew a tolerance to all forms of caffeine and is now forced to actually sleep once in a while.

He is intimately familiar with is work area and instantly knows where everything is. To outsiders it looks like a mess of various documents, piles of paper, supplies and mechanical parts. Often he asks a new intern to fetch him a sheet or something and they'll spend hours looking for it in the raven's nest that man calls an office. Then he'll show up pissed as hell like "It was under the desk next to the 3rd used energy core. Are you really that stupid?".

When he's in the zone he's deathly silent, his eyes laser focused on whatever page or machine he's trying to figure out. An observer might be afraid he'll burn a hole trough the object with his eyes. This is probably the only time he doesn't wear his mask as he doesn't want anything to obstruct him. Archons couldn't help the unfortunate soul who dares to interrupt him in this state. Instant volunteer for his next experiment.

Pantalone once decided to gift him with an expensive stationery set in a desperate attempt to get him to organize his study. It included quills, ink, various highlighters and organizers all in pastels with cute motifs. "To bring some positivity to the gloomy atmosphere around you!". Dottore claimed to hate it but was seen months later using a kitten-themed notepad at one of his labs.

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Another post, another slay (probs a flop). I'm currently taking a half-voluntary gap year because I decided to switch universities a little too late in the year oops. And honestly in this time I've realized how much I thrive in the academic environment and I miss studying so much! Idk might sound a bit too optimistic coming from someone who's currently not under any pressing deadlines or tests but I really do miss it. As much as I hated crunching the night before a test and stressed about the material I believe it's an environment I truly thrive in. I really do find such comfort in being able to take notes, discuss with classmates and professors. It's probably one of the many reasons I find Dottore relatable. We both share such a thirst for knowledge and focus way too much on our favorite subjects. I'm rambling, sorry. Thank you so much for reading and please don't be shy to send me asks or comments with ideas you'd like me to expand upon. I'm still pretty new to writing in fandom space so I'd really be grateful to get feedback and see what the community wants lol.

Have a good day! ❀

[wtftaylr]

23, 26, 34 for sadie?

HI MOOT!! <3 <3 Tysm for the ask!!!

#23 - How do they feel about physical touch/affection?

She's quite reserved, prefers her own personal space -- anything beyond a handshake or fist bump will only be coming from friends. They'll gladly accept hugs from friends but 99% of the time Sadie won't be the one to initiate them.

Before the events of New Vegas, Sadie spent many many years (age 15 through 34) as a courier and jury-rigging repairman con-artist, hyper-focused on saving up to one day fund their scientific research -- she didn't provide herself much time for establishing relationships (with humans at least, she's always taken to robots and is far quicker to befriend them).

All that to say, they're not accustomed to physical touch and it's a new experience having friends willing to initiate it -- like Veronica, for instance. I feel Veronica is a big hugger and while Sadie has no problem with it, it catches her off guard the first few (hundred) times.

And Benny -- holy shit. Sadie was not prepared for Just how much she's dotted on, touched, kissed, cuddled -- This could be its own post tbh but she does get used to reciprocating fairly quickly, but in smaller, less grand ways -- leaning into him, wrapping her arm around his, planting a kiss on his cheek before leaving -- her love language leans more towards Acts of Service. But now im rambling, im gonna put the brakes on haha

--

26. How would others describe them / their disposition?

First impressions are Sadie's unreactive, aloof, and short-tempered. Perhaps can lean towards off-putting with just how unreactive she is (I can go off, but it's partially due to Flat Affect from autism, and subsequently made more apparent after head trauma. If you're interested in more info, I go into an absurd amount of head trauma detail on her profile. Warning for mobile users, that particular section doesn't turn into a scroll box on mobile yet. Gotta figure out that coding lol [i know nothing about coding so uhh wish me luck lol]).

Though as she's allowed to warm up, they're genuine and kind towards friends; she's ride or die for life. Always willing to help at the first opportunity -- with anything. To the point where it could be perceived as annoying to some folks lmao /lh

[Lucky 38 Presidential Suite] Boone: hm. I'm thirst- Sadie, materializing out of thin air: WOULD U LIKE A DRINK. PERHAPS A NUKA-COLA. SOME WATER. SUNSET SASPARILLA MAYBE BUT DON'T DRINK TOO MUCH OF IT I HEARD IT'S A HEALTH HAZARD. IF U WANT SOMETHING SPECIFIC THAT WE DON'T HAVE I CAN GO BUY IT FOR YOU-- Boone: Boone: water is fine

Also!! I'm working on the Relationship section of Sadie's profile; this might provide a bit of extra insight on specific characters and their dynamic okay you got me, I just wanted to show this off I love how it's turning out so far and it seemed related tho idk if that's the adhd talking or if im being fr

--

34. What armor / clothing do they typically wear?

OOOHHHH I desperately wanna do a new outfit lineup for her. But I wanna answer this ask while it's still 2024 so (mostly) text-only for now >B)

She most often wears Daniel's Outfit (that guy sucked but, credit where credit's due, that outfit is fuckin fire) -- I drew her in it [here] but Really wanna draw her in it properly. Daniel who? This is Sadie's Outfit.

As for armor, the Stealth Suit MK II (OWB) is her go-to for more dangerous fights.

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.” Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

[daechwitatamic]

Get to Know Me

I was tagged by @sailorsoon @tomodachiii and @eoieopda :)

WHAT'S THE ORIGIN OF YOUR BLOG TITLE?

made back when i considered myself a double-bias for Taehyung and Yoongi, it is half daechwita and half tata mic

FAVORITE FANDOMS?

I'm currently in bts, svt, and skz fandoms

OTP(s)/SHIPNAME?

i don't ship real people but in terms of friendships and dynamics you KNOW i'm insane about vmin and boochan :')

FAVORITE COLOR?

purple!

FAVORITE GAME?

i was heavily into the sims franchise for almost my whole life but my laptop stopped running it so i had to go cold turkey lol also ACNH, all the zelda games, and all the pokemon games

SONG STUCK IN YOUR HEAD?

lol actually it's ultra by skz rn

WEIRDEST HABIT/TRAIT?

i think a lot of things i do are probably weird. the random noises, the patterns and routines, many of my mannerisms, etc.

HOBBIES?

writing, reading, video games, shitty reality tv, puzzles, easy hikes, food and drink for enjoyment!!

IF YOU WORK, WHAT IS YOUR PROFESSION?

i am unfortunately in public education

IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB YOU WISH, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

an author :/ that was the dream and goal when i went to college

SOMETHING YOU'RE GOOD AT?

writing, sometimes lol i'm also a strong swimmer and i think i have a lot of resilience to push through tough situations

SOMETHING YOU'RE BAD AT?

counting lmao. cooking. cleaning. anything the adhd says we shouldn't do.

SOMETHING YOU LOVE?

coffee :') my spouse. my cats. my couch. mornings where i don't have to go anywhere. traveling. eating good food.

SOMETHING YOU COULD TALK ABOUT FOR HOURS OFF THE CUFF?

certain books/authors, probably. my own misadventures... i've had an interesting life lol

SOMETHING YOU HATE?

my job lmfao

SOMETHING YOU COLLECT?

when i travel new places i like to get a christmas tree ornament to represent that place/trip :)

SOMETHING YOU FORGET?

lmao bestie i have seveeeeeeeere adhd and i am fast and loose with actually taking my meds so i forget every fucking thing.

WHAT'S YOUR LOVE LANGUAGE?

receiving is words of affirmation, giving is time spent

FAVORITE MOVIE/SHOW?

pacific rim and inception are my top two movies lol i'm only a little embarrassed about it. show might be the good place or ted lasso.

FAVORITE FOOD?

i fuck with all foods. i love food. give me any food. i think the only food i actively don't like is coconut and that's just when it's coconuts shavings on top of sweets, if its cooked in a dish we're fine lol

FAVORITE ANIMAL?

idk man cats i guess

ARE YOU MUSICAL?

i actually am very musical. started piano lessons when i was six and stopped when i moved out at eighteen, took vocal lessons on and off in those same years. played oboe with school band from age 10 to 18. played violin 2-3 years with school but couldn't tell you the first thing about it now that i'm grown. i love music, i'm passionate about music.

WHAT WERE YOU LIKE AS A CHILD?

loud and annoying!! also very very smart and very entitled because of it!! :) and that's on undiagnosed neurodivergence!!

FAVORITE SUBJECT AT SCHOOL?

reading and writing, everything else was torture

LEAST FAVORITE SUBJECT?

math in any capacity. i'm very slow at it and i don't remember math facts and formulas well

WHAT'S YOUR BEST CHARACTER TRAIT?

dude idk lol i try to be empathetic and fair and logical?

WHAT'S YOUR WORST CHARACTER TRAIT?

i reject this question on principle because young women spend too long learning to like themselves to them have to sit and yap about what's bad about them go away you're not my therapist and this is not productive!

IF YOU COULD CHANGE ANY DETAIL OF YOUR DAY RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

the fact that i have to go to work tomorrow :) and i have not had coffee

IF YOU COULD TRAVEL IN TIME, WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO MEET?

Rumi but only if we could also speak to each other and understand so there needs to be a translation clause in with the time travel clause

REC YOUR FAVE FANFICS (SPREAD THE LOVE):

favorite authors are: @sailorsoons (also sailoryooons), @eoieopda, @moni-logues, @kkaetnipjeon, @withleeknow (also jeonqkooks),

@magicshopaholic, @casuallyimagining (also featseungmin), @bookyeom, @sluttywoozi, @ylangelegy (also xinganhao),

and @100vern sorry that you're all alone down here lmao but iirc it will tag everyone if its in batches of 5 by section

TAG OTHERS TO COMPLETE (NO PRESSURE):

anyone who hasn't played yet!!

[kairunatic]

Pololympics

Ep 12

>>Link to the previous Episode

If you're wondering why it took me so long to make a summary post about this is cause I genuinely hate this event now and you'll see why

I've actually read the whole week's ep and LMAO this event is such a mess so look forward to my post about this in the upcoming days as to why it is a mess

So yeah this is another Filler ep that branch into two parts

Let's start with Gymnos and Flet(Honestly a weird combo)

So we start with these two in the rest area Flet asks if Gymnos is enjoying his time here. He said he was but he usually spent it drinking and watching the games and feels like it's such a waste to be here

Flet said that's fine since Gymnos is here to have fun and Relax same goes for him who's been baking non-stop so it's OK to just do whatever

(Dw you two aren't the only people here who are just doing whatever instead of actually participating in the event)

Flet mentioned that this place has a gym and inside there is Bath house a bit bigger than the bath house in Pays blan

Flet suggested they should check it out and Gymnos agreed since he hasn't idk bathe for several days or something