#love to take my friends to my favourite one one day

[verstappenverse]

this is my official request for “the price of the podium” part 2 😙

The Price of the Podium - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Overwhelmed by regret after months of heartbreak, Max shows up at your family gathering uninvited, determined to win back your heart.

3k words / Part 1 / Masterlist

The weeks after the breakup stretched into months, each day feeling like an endless parade of reminders of what he had lost. Max's life, which once felt vibrant and alive, was now painted in muted greys.

On the track, he could still find moments of clarity, moments where the roar of the engine drowned out the voice in his head whispering that he’d let the best part of his life slip away. But off the track, it was a different story.

His apartment, once a filled with laughter and warmth, felt cold and empty. The silence was deafening, the absence of your presence hanging heavy in every room. He found himself noticing the smallest traces of you, remnants of the life you had built together. A sweater, forgotten in the back of the closet, still faintly carried your scent. A book lay abandoned on the coffee table, your favourite bookmark wedged halfway through its pages. Polaroids were scattered on the dresser, the frozen memories of your smile as you leaned into his side, his arm draped protectively around you, each photo a felt like cruel reminders of what he had lost. Every glimpse sent a fresh wave of regret crashing over him, a dagger twisting deeper into his chest, but he still couldn’t bring himself to move them.

He found himself replaying old voicemails just to hear your voice. He scrolled through old messages, rereading your words, torturing himself with memories of the love he’d thrown away. Max couldn’t escape the truth he’d pushed you away, and now he was left to face the reality of life without you.

He avoided your social media, too afraid of seeing something that would break what was left of you and him. But curiosity, or maybe desperation, got the better of him one sleepless night. Scrolling through your profile he found no updates about your life, he didn’t know if that was worse than seeing you move on, seeing nothing but old photos of you smiling, happy, carefree.

He replayed every argument, every missed call, every broken promise, he thought about how you’d always been his biggest supporter, standing by him even when his schedule consumed every part of his life. You deserved better, and he hated himself for realising it too late.

But it wasn’t just Max who was struggling. You had been holding yourself together with frayed strings, pretending to move forward while the heartbreak clung to you like a shadow. At first, you’d tried to busy yourself, spending time with friends, taking on extra projects at work, and redecorating your new apartment.

It hadn’t been easy. The months following the breakup had been a blur of half-healed wounds and quiet realisations. And while the ache had dulled over time, there were still moments when it hit you like a sucker punch, a race replayed on TV, his name in an article, or the way the late-night quiet reminded you of all the times he’d whispered to you in the dark.

Lying in bed without him beside you felt like an impossible adjustment. You’d reached for your phone more times than you could count, almost calling him before stopping yourself.

The grief wasn’t just emotional; it was physical. Your chest ached when you thought about him. You missed the sound of his laugh, the way he’d steal glances at you during quiet moments, the way his presence made you feel like the centre of his world—even if his actions as of late hadn’t always matched that sentiment.

As the weeks dragged on your family and friends noticed the change in you. They tried to cheer you up, inviting you to dinners and outings, but you could see the worry in their eyes.

On the other side of the world Max had been spiralling. His friends, his team, and even his father had commented on the change in him. He wasn’t as sharp, as focused. The usual fire in his eyes had dimmed.

Max waved off concerns, muttering something about being tired, but inside he was screaming. How could he explain that the person who made him feel alive was gone because of his own selfish choices?

One evening as he sat alone in his apartment, the untouched meal in front of him growing cold, his phone buzzed unexpectedly, breaking his trance. It was one of your mutual friends, someone who’d finally had enough of watching you both suffer in silence.

“She won’t tell you, but her family’s all gathering at her parents’ place this weekend,” they said bluntly. “If you care about her Max you’ll show up. This is your chance, don’t let her think you’ve given up. Show her you’re willing to fight for her, because she deserves that much.”

The call ended before Max could respond, but his heart was already racing. This was his chance, it might be his only chance, to fix what he’d broken. He had no plan, no idea how to approach you, but he knew he couldn’t sit back any longer.

For the next week, Max poured every ounce of his energy into figuring out what to say to show you he was serious. He wanted to prove to you, and your family, that he wasn’t the same man who had let you down.

The day had arrived, and Max stood nervously outside your family’s house. His hands were clammy as he gripped the bouquet of flowers, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know if you’d even talk to him, but he had to try. The door opened, and there you were, shocked and hesitant, yet still so beautiful it almost hurt to look at you. For a moment all he could do was take you in, overwhelmed by the sight of the person he’d missed more than anything. His gaze softened as he took in every detail, struck by how you could still leave him completely speechless.

-----

The sound of laughter spilled from the cozy dining room as you placed another dish on the table. Your family’s chatter buzzed in the background, a comforting hum you’d missed over the past few months. Being here, surrounded by the warmth of home and the people who loved you unconditionally was a slight balm to the ache that had settled in your chest since Max had walked out of your life—or perhaps, since you had let him go.

Tonight was supposed to be a distraction, you’d managed to shove the thought of Max to the back of your mind, or so you thought.

When the doorbell rang, the noise in the room quieted. You frowned, glancing toward the door. You weren’t expecting anyone else. Maybe a neighbour?

“I’ll get it!” you called, brushing your hands on a napkin before heading to the door.

But as you opened it, the sight on the other side stole the air from your lungs.

Max stood there, looking like he’d been through hell. His hair was a mess, his face etched with exhaustion, and his usual confident posture had been replaced by a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. He was holding a thoughtfully arranged, beautiful bouquet full of all your favourite flowers.

Your heart pounded, torn between slamming the door in his face and pulling him into your arms.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone equal parts disbelief and shock.

“I needed to see you,” he said, his voice raw.

“Now?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended. “Here?”

He winced but didn’t back down. “I know this is the last place I should show up uninvited, but I couldn’t wait anymore.”

The quiet resolve in his voice made it harder to maintain your anger. Still, you kept your stance firm. “Max, this isn’t the time.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But I’ve been losing sleep for months, and if I didn’t come now I don’t know if I’d get the courage again to say what I need to say.”

You glanced over your shoulder, aware of the curious eyes peeking from the dining room. Your family had gone suspiciously silent. With a sigh you stepped outside, closing the door behind you.

“Okay,” you said, your arms still crossed. “Say it.”

Max shifted, his hands gripping the flowers tightly. “I messed up,” he began. “I let my schedule, my ego—everything—get in the way of what really mattered. I thought I could balance it all, but I was wrong. I hurt you, and I hate myself for it.”

His words hung in the chilly evening air. You opened your mouth to respond, but he carried on.

“Please there’s more,” he said, his voice with a slight tremble. “I’ve spent every day since we broke up thinking about what I could’ve done differently. About what I lost. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I was too blind to see it until it was too late.”

You inhaled sharply, his words hitting you harder than you expected. But the wounds of the past were still fresh. “Max,” you said slowly, “you can’t just show up months later with flowers and expect everything to be okay.”

“I know,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I don’t deserve you. Not after what I put you through. But I couldn’t let another day go by without trying. Without telling you how much I love you.”

Your heart clenched, stirring emotions you’d tried so hard to suppress. Love had never been the issue; it was the broken promises, the absence.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you whispered.

He took a hesitant step closer. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn it. If it means stepping back from my schedule, I’ll do it. If it means meeting your family tonight and facing their judgment, I’ll do that too. I just… I can’t let you go without fighting for us.”

His words were sincere, his desperation palpable. You stared at him, torn between the anger that had kept you going and the love that still lingered in your chest.

The door creaked open behind you, and your mother’s head peeked out. “Everything okay out here?” she asked, her gaze flicking between you and Max.

You hesitated, glancing back at him. His eyes were fixed on you, his vulnerability laid bare. Against your better judgment, you sighed and turned to your mother. “Yeah. Just… give us a few minutes.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded and disappeared back inside, leaving you alone with him once more.

Max let out a shaky breath. “I know this doesn’t fix everything, but can I at least meet them? Your family?”

The audacity of his request made you blink. “You think meeting them will fix this?”

“No,” he said quickly. “But it’s a start. And they’re important to you. If I’m going to prove I can be better, I have to start by showing up.”

You searched his face, looking for cracks in his resolve. But all you saw was a man who was willing to do whatever it took to make things right. Against every ounce of caution, you found yourself nodding.

“Fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But don’t expect them to go easy on you.”

A small, hopeful smile tugged at his lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The night was a whirlwind of introductions, slightly awkward small talk, and more than one pointed question from your family. They weren’t hostile, but the underlying skepticism was palpable.

Max handled it all with a quiet determination that surprised you. He answered their questions honestly, even when they bordered on uncomfortable. He didn’t shy away when your uncle jokingly asked if he planned to 'run away again,' and he stayed composed when your father subtly inquired about his intentions moving forward.

It was strange seeing him like this, so vulnerable, so stripped of the bravado you were used to. He wasn’t the polished, confident man who dominated Formula 1. Here, in this setting, he was just Max. A man desperate to make things right.

And it wasn’t lost on you how your family softened toward him as the night went on. Your younger cousins hung on his every word as he recounted stories from the track. Your mother, ever the skeptic, eventually offered him a second helping of dessert, a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes. Even your father seemed less rigid by the end of the night.

Through it all Max glanced at you whenever he could, his blue eyes silently asking if he was doing enough. And you weren’t sure what the answer was. Part of you wanted to stay guarded, to protect your heart from more hurt. But another part, the part that still loved him deeply was warming to the sincerity in his actions.

When the night finally wound down your family slowly filtered out, leaving you alone with Max in the quiet of the kitchen. You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him as he ran a hand through his hair, visibly nervous.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence. “For letting me in tonight.”

“I don’t know what this means Max, I’m still hurt. It’s not like everything can just go back to the way it was.”

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I know…I know I hurt you. I’ve spent every day since the breakup thinking about how I let you down, every mistake I made, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me.”

His voice cracked, and he exhaled shakily, the weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “I know I probably don’t deserve another chance, but I need you to know that I’m here. I’ll keep showing up, proving to you that I can be the man you deserve. Because I love you. I never stopped loving you, and I never will.”

You looked away, his words cutting through the walls you’d tried to build around your heart. “Max. It takes more than words. It takes effort.”

“I know I have to earn your trust back, and I will, whatever it takes,” he said voice resolute. "I don’t need you to forgive me right now,” he said quickly, taking another step closer. “I just need a chance to show you that I can change, to show you that I’ll never take you for granted again.”

His vulnerability was disarming. This wasn’t the Max who dodged hard conversations or avoided accountability. This was a man who was laying everything bare, risking rejection because he knew he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you bit your lip to keep them from falling. “Max, I don’t even know where to start with this. It’s... a lot,” you said, your voice carrying the weight of all the pain you had kept inside for so long. “I wanted to be patient with you, to understand, to give you the space you needed, but... I pushed you away, too.” The admission stung, more than you expected. “I let my own fears and doubts control me. I was afraid that if I kept giving you chances, I’d just be left alone again. And instead of facing it, instead of talking to you, I shut down.”

Max’s gaze softened, his brow furrowing with understanding. “You weren’t wrong to be afraid. I gave you plenty of reasons to doubt me. But I swear, I’ll prove to you that I’m here, that I'll aways be here for you.”

You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was the man you’d fallen in love with.

Without thinking you reached out, your hand brushing against his. It was a tentative gesture, but it felt monumental. Max’s breath paused, his fingers curling around yours like he was afraid to let go.

The dam broke then, tears spilling down your cheeks as you let out a shaky exhale. “I missed you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I missed you too,” he said, his own eyes glistening. “More than I can ever put into words.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist as he pulled you close. He had feared for so long that this moment would never come, that he had lost you forever. But now, here you were in his arms, letting him in.

His hand slid gently up your back, holding you as if he were afraid you might disappear. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “For everything. I won’t ever let you doubt how much you mean to me again.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through your tears, and your voice trembled but was steady with certainty. “Max…I love you too, I don’t think I could ever stop loving you even if I tried.”

His breath caught in his throat, his eyes searching yours as if trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. His heart raced, and a lump formed in his throat. You loved him. After everything you still loved him.

Your hands slid up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as if anchoring him to you, grounding yourself in the reality of his presence. "We’ll figure this out together," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. "One step at a time.”

And in that moment, the weight of the past seemed to dissipate, just for a while, and the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his arms around you, the sound of his heart beating in time with yours. You didn’t know what the future held, but in that moment wrapped in Max’s arms you both felt something you hadn’t in a long time, hope.

[victoriangold]

Loustat Fic Rec MASTERPOST

This is my Masterpost for all the Loustat fics I've read and enjoyed the most. There are about 150 fics ranked by word count. You can mostly find the tags #AU, #PostS2, #S1, plus a few rarer ones.

Updates will be collected and added in the reblogs.

THANK YOU to all the authors putting so much effort into creating these beautiful works that i've spent hours reading!! I owe you the world.

1k - 4k

through all the days out wandering by concertoforgashedneck (1,3k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) A (not-so) brief moment in a certain vampire rockstar's dressing room before the show.

j’veux pas mourir toute seule by WeeBeastie (1,4k, Rated M, #PostS2) alone in New Orleans, Lestat waits - and waits - for Louis to come back to him The Music Man by Gigi_Sinclair (1,5k, Rated E, #PostS2) Louis can't kick down the door to the luxury suite at the Royal Lancaster hotel. Well, he could, but getting arrested by the London police is not going to improve his mood at all. Instead, he knocks with a fist clenched so tightly, he draws blood from his own hand.

mosaic.  by pocketsun (1,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) Months after their intense and stormy reunion, Louis and Lestat finally find themselves coming together once more in the place where they feel most connected to each other– in the intimacy of the bedroom.

That Sound Is Loud Inside Us by thetickingsclock (2,1k, Rated M, #DMCentric) Daniel's turning and the immediate aftermath The End Of All Things by lesfleursrouges (2,1k, Rated E, #S1 ) Louis tries to accept the fact that Lestat will be dead tomorrow and that this is the end of all things.

pour by baberainbow (2,3k, Rated E, #S1 ) Too caught up in the turmoil of not getting his way in this hypothetical scenario, Lestat huffs all put-upon.Because he can't take a hint. Because he's a fucking idiot. Louis wants him carnally. say that you'll hold me forever  by femininomena (2,5k, Rated Teen, #PostS2 ) You got me a room?” Lestat asks as soon as they enter the elevator. “Presumptuous.” Louis chuckles, smiling widely at the half-hearted retort. “Hopeful.” show me the only way (you know how to love) by peacefrog (2,5k, Rated E, #S2E3) After the incident in the park, Lestat comes to Louis again. All I Have to Do is Dream by Anonymous (3,2k, Rated M, #S2) DreamLouis has thoughts. A lot of them. do wrong right by sightetsound (3,4k, Rated E, #S1 ) during episode four, Lestat and Louis experience a dry spell as a result of Claudia sleeping in their room, and then they don't. got it bad for you by ad_castra (3,4k, Rated E, #S1/2) Lestat runs hot when he kills, cheeks flushed red and fresh blood staining his teeth, all amped up and wild with the bloodlust. Louis’s favourite time to kiss him is then, licking it all up and savouring the aftermath.  ain't no mountain by wordsphoenix (3,5k, Rated -, #PostS2 ) Louis is on his way to visit a friend when he hears a familiar voice on the radio. fruit basket by peacefrog (3,5k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) Lestat’s whole body swayed as he walked. Pants sitting low on his hips. Hips like weapons, swell of his ass like a homing beacon. And Louis almost forced himself to look away when Lestat stopped, and turned back.

Into the Woods by Gigi_Sinclair (3,6k, Rated Teen, #PostS2 ) Lestat always had a lot of friends; he’s got more now he’s famous. Louis is okay with that. It would be insane not to be. He’s okay when, under the instruction of the director, the man touches Lestat, putting his big hands on Lestat’s waist and yanking their bodies together. It’s all part of the show, he reminds himself. Then, Lestat and the man kiss. And kiss, and kiss, take after take after take. True that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me by pocketsun (3,6k, Rated E, #S1 ) Louis, avoiding Lestat after their night together, finds peace in a bookshop, but that peace is fleeting when it comes to a certain vampire stalking about. A Point of View by Gigi_Sinclair (3,6k, Rated M, #PostS2) An interview with another vampire. Which he sees as more like the game "Two Truths and a Lie." Threads by lesfleursrouges (3,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) Louis and Lestat find their way back to each other. Slowly. With care. you send me by vulcanscully (3,7k, Rated M, #PostS2 ) Close to a century after their Mardi Gras duet, Louis asks Lestat for a dance.

The Things We Did and Didn’t Do by marbleflan (3,7k, Rated M, #PostS2) You are thinking of him, maybe.” Louis looks up. “What?” Then it clicks. “Armand. You are touching me. In bed,” Lestat says, casual. Maybe too casual. “But you are thinking of him.” Louis doesn’t say anything. There’s not really anything he can say. It’s true, in a way. Not that he’s literally thinking about Armand. Not consciously. But he’s assuming Armand: Armand’s desires, Armand’s preferences, Armand’s reactions. He’s holding Lestat, he’s thinking of Lestat, he’s hard for Lestat. But he’s treating him like Armand. You don't know how to love me good by carmillas_wife_aurora (3,9k, Rated Gen, #PostS2) A song from Lestat causes a fight, a confession, a make out session in a dirty bar bathroom and a reunion. In that exact order.

4k - 5k

all I wanna, ain't no other by femininomena (4k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) GL tonight and ty for the tickets. Daniel said his daughters loved em. It takes every single inch of the self control that Lestat painstakingly curated for over seventy years of isolation for him not to chuck the phone at the wall.

The New Age by Gigi_Sinclair (4k, Rated M, #PostS2) "There was so rarely any restraint between the two of them. Everything was zero to a hundred faster than the cars Armand sometimes liked to show off to his snacks, and fuck whoever got in the way. Louis was fine with that. He got off on it. Now he's in his 140s, he thinks maybe it's time to grow up a little." all i want is to be home by deadratz (4,2k, Rated Teen, #PostS2) It’s strange to see Lestat around such modernity. To see the ways he has moved forward with the passing years, to embrace a new era — growing, even if he hasn’t grown old. The passing of time is still documented in the new way Lestat carries himself, in the way he fits into the present. No longer does Lestat only exist in memories and dreams. He’s no longer as he was the last night Louis saw him, no longer a twentieth century ghost out of place amongst modern walls and furniture. He's here, and he's different, but so much is still the same. Different, but still Lestat. Still beautiful.

in full transparency by ColorMeParanoid (4,3k, Rated T, #PostS2 ) the one in which Lestat can (allegedly) turn into a bat and Bram Stoker is (allegedly) a big fat petty liar Nearer, My Heart, To Thee by JustCallMeWinchester (4,3k, Rated E, #S2E4) Louis knew about his initials in Lestat's coat, after all, the Lestat of his hallucinations could only know what he knew, right? He'd found out the secret one very ordinary night, and now he carried his own secret, from NOLA to Europe, Dubai and back.

longing by baberainbow (4,3k, Rated E, #PostS2) The last night Louis spends with Lestat in the twentieth century; the first night Louis shares with Lestat in the twenty-first. forever's gonna start tonight by trinityofone (4,4k, Rated E, #DMCentric) Is It Vampire Pon Farr or Are We Fucking Soulmates?: The Daniel and Armand Story. If there were scarlet flags, they washed out in the mind of me. by pocketsun (4,5k, Rated E, #PreS2) Louis, as a human and as a vampire, working through his desire for Lestat. Or, four times Louis pleasures himself and the one time Lestat walks in and joins him.

on your side by fakehaunting (4,5k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) “My love,” Lestat murmurs. “I lay flowers for you at your grave and then you come to me. Is that what it really takes?”  Anchor up to me, love. by pocketsun (4,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) In the present day, Lestat finds out about the way in which Louis grieved for him. "You missed me so terribly," Lestat answers, finally appearing in the empty doorway as if Louis had summoned him right from his subconscious. "So terribly, you created a dream version of me. Is this true, mon cher? That you did this?"

Happy 160th! by Angstosaur (4,6k, Rated M, #S1 ) After Claudia's 17th birthday party, Louis senses something is troubling Lestat and eventually finds out that he has never celebrated his birthday. Louis decides to give him something good to remember when he thinks of November 7th in the future.

a singular soul by mllelerockstar (Deluxing) (4,7k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) “Tell me what you need baby.” Lestat shuddered and clutched him closer again. His lips were pressed to Louis’ ear, and he said in a devastated tone, “Say you love me mon cher. Just once, I promise I won’t ask again.” let's just blame it on london by cherhorowitz8 (4,9k, Rated M, #AU) Louis and Lestat try desperately to find a place where they can have sex. Also, Daniel’s wedding is a disaster.An AU one-shot inspired by an episode of Friends.

Bury Me Deep Inside Your Heart by prouvaireafterdark (5,1k, Rated E, #S1 ) AKA the very explicit coffin sex AMC never gave us in 1x04 stereoscopic by chinxe (5,2k, Rated M, #PostS2 ) Daniel just wants to get through The Vampire Lestat's documentary in one piece. The Vampires Lestat, Louis and Armand aren't making it any easier for him. don't have to guess by lestatslouis (ad_castra) (5,3k, Rated E, #PostS2) When Louis realises one of his biggest grievances with vampirism is the inability to communicate telepathically with Lestat, he keeps quiet for the sole reason that his sudden inclination to kill should definitely trump weird, psychic sex with his boyfriend. It’s kind of concerning that he considers them both an even playing field. love you loudly by vulcanscully (5,3k, Rated M, #PostS2) three times Lestat reels over Louis touching him in public, and one time they talk about it you cast the dust into nothing by skvadern (5,4k, Rated E, #S1 ) "When you're moving in me, I feel whole, Louis, as I haven't in so long. Entirely whole and adored." Lestat draws Louis over another line in the sand.

shadows in parallel planes by mllelerockstar (Deluxing) (5,4k, Rated Teen, #PostS2 ) it's been three years, one real estate empire and one platinum record since louis and lestat have last seen each other in person

i was on fire for you (but you brought in the cold) by cryptidink (5,4k, Rated E, #S1 ) It’s July in New Orleans and Lestat and Louis are feeling the heat. scarcely can speak for my thinking by cloudings (5,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) It’s been a good while now since they reunited in the rush of the hurricane, the discovery of the truth and treachery hot on their minds. On a warm Summer’s night, Louis and Lestat re-establish what they mean to each other, and re-visit the heat of the nights they used to share. held by vulcanscully (5,7k, Rated M, #PostS2) Louis learns to hold memory in his arms, and to let himself be held.

Tell Me One Thing Right by pomelos (5,7k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) Louis rediscovers his eye for photography, and somewhere along the way, finds a way to express his love to Lestat. no one else will have me like you do by peacefrog (5,8k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) The groupies line up by the dozen to get on their knees for Lestat. Lestat only gets on his knees for Louis. Sum of Our Worst Moments by moderndaylestat (5,8k, Rated E, #S1 ) Expansion of the scene from episode 1x06 where Louis swims the Mississippi to kick Lestat’s ass.

The French Quarter Phantoms by cococris, pocketsun, StarskyGirl  (5,9k, Rated Teen, #S1 ) Lestat flies Louis to New Orleans for a romantic date night that he definitely has planned and isn't at all a spur of the moment thing once they arrive. Definitely not. Only, while on this date, ghosts of their previous life begin to haunt them. The question is, how accurate are these ghost stories? And who knows them better than the two vampires who have lived to tell the tales?

autocorrelation by chinxe (5,9k, Rated E, #PostS2) Lestat wears a ring. Louis doesn't. Daniel pries, and gets a bit more than he bargained for.

6k - 7k

Reach For It by Alethia (6,1k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) "Louis, what is a 'Swiftie?'" "Oh, no," Louis said into the phone, dread gathering. "Did you say something smug and superior?" "I am Lestat. By definition I am superior, so smugness would naturally follow."

you and I both know by lamphouse (6,1k, Rated M, #PostS2) But even when one is dead and gone / It still takes two to make a house a home. Five minutes actually standing in the house with Lestat is all it takes. He thought he knew. He knew, but he wasn't ready for this. We only become more fully what we are by deadpooled (6,2k, Rated Gen, #PostS2) Louis is too shocked to respond immediately. The voice is faint, but it’s not hard to extrapolate when he’d been listening to it dissect his entire undeath for the more tumultuous part of the past month. All he can blurt, both out loud and through the connection, is, “Daniel?”.

personne d'autre by laundry (lovesjar) (6,2k, Rated E, #PostS2) Fuck the handcuffs, Louis thinks, screw the trinkets.

Of Mercy, With Choice by shavir_light (6,2k, Rated E, #PostS2) “I always thought that your victims were truly fortunate, to be gifted with such an exhilarating death,” Lestat says, tangled in the messy sheets. “What bliss it must have been, to be killed by one so beautiful.” Louis and Lestat play at a fantasy. It gets a bit out of hand. not for anything but warmth by wordsphoenix (6,3k, Rated - , #PostS2 ) There's no world in which Louis just leaves him there.

birds of a feather by andrealyn (6,6k, Rated M, #AU) Every few months, Louis dives passionately into a new hobby and drags Daniel along for the ride. Somehow, Louis didn't expect that birding would end up being so fascinating, but both he and Daniel manage to find something worth returning for in the woods. Except maybe Louis is the only one there for birding and not something else. Imperfect for you by Kaylin_KC (6,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) Louis and Lestat talk drag, an unexpected realisation, a love confession and then they fuck about it. And the Knowing Is Sweet, Too by shavir_light (6,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) For his own peace of mind, Louis had to get Lestat out of that miserable shack. He rented him a fully furnished apartment not too far from Rue Royale, then purchased a new, elegant coffin for him to sleep in. Next, a modern wardrobe to help him blend in with the mortals. And finally, he bought him a piano—a nice one, too. He assured Lestat that it was all a loan, just until he got his finances in order. The piano, though, was a gift. And now it was time for Louis to go home. Dry Spell by TorturedTadpoles (6,6k, Rated E, #WrittenPreS2 ) Louis and Lestat have reunited again in 2022 and everything is going well for the couple. Everything except for the fact that they haven't had sex yet. Louis sets out to change that - little did he realise it would bring up some unresolved issues from the past. the landscape after cruelty by kurtstiel (6,7k, Rated E, #PostS2) In the aftermath of the reunion, Louis takes Lestat back to his hotel.

shot at the night by verlec (7,2k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) Louis takes up photography again. Lestat offers to model for him. And what I thought was gone by Nalyra (7,4k, Rated E, #WrittenPreS2) Lestat smiles at him, seductively, blood sweat dripping into his eyes, the blond hair matted by sweat and falling into his face, blue eyes twinkling. Golden skin, shifting under the lights. Displayed. And then he turns to sing into the microphone, silently, fangs bared. The image on the screen flickers, changes, shows the guitarist. Back on Lestat, dancing along a stage, wearing… next to nothing. Or so Louis’ bodily reaction suggests. Memories rise, suddenly and impossible to process. drink up one more time (and i'll make you mine) by peacefrog (7,5k, Rated E, #S1 ) Desire thumped in Lestat like pure, unfiltered animal instinct. Like the want of the kill, the thrill of the hunt. Something up on its hind legs howling for the moon. “The night is young, my sweet. Give me just an hour? S'il te plaît, Louis. If I must, I will beg you.”

I try to be the chill girl, but honestly, I'm not. by pocketsun (7,6k, Rated E, #WrittenPreS2 ) “Let’s keep it casual.” Lestat is unsure if he hears it correctly. He is quite unsure about it as he lies there, panting from the comedown. Don't Poke the Hornet's Nest by TardisRos (7,7k, Rated M, #PostS2 ) Two interviews and three vampires later, Daniel still hasn't learned that prying is not always the wise thing to do.

8 - 9k

there's a religion in our love by ad_castra (8,5k, Rated E, #S1 ) Five times they sleep in Louis' coffin, one time they don't before i gaze at you again by tazatouille (8,6k, Rated Teen, #PostS2 ) Louis tries to figure out what to hold onto and what to let go. With Open Arms by magicbubblepipe (8,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) After reuniting with Lestat in New Orleans, Louis takes him back to his hotel to wait out the hurricane. Filled with a strong sense of protectiveness and a need to express a love too long denied, he also takes the opportunity to give his maker the tender care and affection he deserves. Whip In My Valise by magicbubblepipe (9k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) OR: Lestat sees the kink gear in Louis's Dubai bedroom and reaches some conclusions that may or not be true

hire a gardener for my grave by elke (weidli) (9k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) The first surprise (besides seeing a fledgling vampire gathering rats on Rue Royale, besides feeling Lestat’s presence like an electric-shock hum beneath his skin as he followed that same fledgling into grimier, rundown corners of the city that was his, once, besides seeing Lestat miserable and quiet and clutching at his wooden mockery of a piano) is that it’s Lestat who pulls away first. The second surprise is the reason why. gimme some face, a souvenir by atthebarricade (9k, Rated E, #PostS2) The Vampire Lestat is spiraling out of control. Daniel Molloy calls in backup.

Get him back  by Tumbledrylow (9,1k, Rated E, #WrittenPreS2 #RockstarLestat) Louis knew he had no right to be jealous, he had said he wanted just to be friends for a while, he’d just gotten out of a relationship, a long one, and Daniel had made a good point to him; Louis had no idea who he was outside of his companions.(Aka, Loustat friends to lovers again, feat. Jealous Louis suddenly understanding Lestat's crisis over Jonah, Pretty much 5+1 Louis observing Lestat and partners and then they finally talk.

And I can’t sleep, ‘cause thoughts devour, thoughts of you consume. by pocketsun (9,1k, Rated E, #S1 ) Louis’ very loud and very clear desires are broadcast to Lestat during their entire courtship. It’s impressive that Louis can keep a straight face while daydreaming about Lestat so passionately. inertia by chinxe (9,2k, Rated E, #PostS2) Lestat plays hard to get. Louis plays along. hyperspectral by chinxe (9,2k, Rated E, #Posts2) Lestat discovers the wonders of the internet. Louis discovers that, eighty years later, he's still just as normal about Lestat as he has ever been. Lilac Wine is Sweet and Heady by Craftnarok (9,2k, Rated E, #PostS2) With the hurricane about to cave Lestat's shack in on top of them, Louis invites him back to his hotel to keep talking. It's an impulse, not a plan, led by damage and desire, and Louis is more than willing to let it play out and figure out the consequences when the storm's blown over.

Anecdotes by magicbubblepipe (9,3k, Rated E, #S1 ) Set in the first episode, early in their courtship. Louis comes home horny from helping his friend Lestat update his wardrobe and has to take matters into his own hands. Lestat hears his beloved Louis calling his name and sneaks a peek.

i will give you all of me by peacefrog (9,5k, Rated E, #S1 ) Lestat buys Louis the Fairplay Saloon. After, he wants to give him so much more.

[arrowmance]

awww thank you so much for the tag, my lovely lovely ilse! <3

❣ — how do you spend most of your free time?

most of my free time, if it exists, is mostly spent on writing random blurbs/outlines for stories while watching video essays. if I don't feel particularly motivated, I spend my time scrolling through Tumblr, binge watch on Netflix, read through my books (I'm currently on the Wicked Series by Gregory Maguire) and/or study different mythologies out of boredom. though as my schedule binds me to my academics, this free time becomes less and less by the day. so, it's a miracle how I have a lot more time now since it's almost the holidays <3

❣ — what are your hobbies and how did you get into them?

ohhh... let me see. my current hobbies are writing, reading, researching on random little topics that may or may not benefit someone, and currently, I'm going back to drawing. I'm not too big with hobbies, but I've learned to do what I love given the right time, and now? it makes me feel a lot more better with taking breaks and just letting the creative juices flow as they wish. how I got into all of them individually is a long story, but it's all summarized into he finding joy in it, whether from a now close friend or my siblings, and I stuck with it.

❣ — what book or movie left a lasting impression on you?

based on the theme of my blog, it's "to all the boys i've loved before." funny story, when I first saw the movies, I really didn't care much because I was more of a "she's dating the gangster" kind of person. however, a class did a musical adaptation of it, and I loved it so much that it made me read all the online copies of the books and rewatch the movies. here I am, still in love with john ambrose mcclaren, but forever yearns for the dynamic peter and lara jean have <3 honorable mentions are: and then there were none (book), falling into place (book), she's dating the gangster (movie), love you to the stars and back (movie), everything everywhere all at once (movie)

❣ — what kind of music do you enjoy?

haha... it's all over the place. good music is good music afterall, and I enjoy a good song no matter what. although, I would like to share that I especially listen to måneskin when studying- it just works for me haha, and I can't really explain how or why it works.

❣ — who is your favourite character (atm or of all time) and why?

no matter what, I'll forever be attached to simeon, barbatos and solomon. maybe it was simeon's kindess, how he feels more real than your typical benevolent angel, with his own hobbies and frustration, and an arc due to his own consequence, yet felt undeserved with how much you'll empathize with him. perhaps it was barbatos' loyalty, that lovely expression you have to work for to even get a glimpse, the slowest slow burn with the most treasured rewards, and beneath the carefully practice eloquence is a demon who cares for those near his hear. or what if it was solomon's humanity, how he feels real, how while portrayed as this extremist sorcerer, you see a reflection of yourself in him, and that little connection alongside his protectiveness makes him one of those characters that stick with you after many many years. i love them, and a few others more. although, at this time, especially with the given circumstance, i figured it's best to reflect on what makes these three so special to me.

🏷️no pressure tags: @satangcrush, @jeschalynn, @misc-magic, @toadtoru, @lonely-north-star + anyone who wishes to join!

tag + q&a game ₊˚ෆ

hello! i thought it would be cute and exciting to do a tag game with all my mutuals to not only talk about themselves, but have fun! so here is my short little game:

alongside this picrew, share 5 things about yourself!

• how do you spend your free time? • what are your hobbies and how did you get into them? • what book or movie left a lasting impression on you? • what kind of music do you enjoy? • who is your favorite character (atm or all time) and why?

i will start first!

my name is rurumi and i enjoy spending my free time writing!

some of my hobbies (outside of writing) includes: drawing, building gundams and keyboards, and fashion! i got into most of them on a whim and became instantly hooked. aside from self-expression, being into fashion also helps with making friends in college because you always have something to talk about!

a book that left a lasting impression on me would have to be either kafka on the shore by haruki murakami or before the coffee gets cold by toshikazu kawaguchi. both stories have kept me up at night thinking a lot about the 'what ifs' in life.

i enjoy soul/r&b alongside anything of jrock influence, but i will basically listen to anything that sounds good. i am currently listening to 'so what' by lucy!

my favorite character at the moment is rin itoshi from blue lock because hes so ridiculously edgy, but at the same time i sympathize with him a lot. on the other hand, my favorite character of all time is suletta mecury from the witch from mercury series, she's an absolute ball of sunshine that i aspire to be.

tagging (+ no pressure) ₊˚ෆ

@kaiser1ns @naenaex0xx @shomatoriashi @choccorin @ryescapades

@rindreamery @soleillunne @kissxcore @rainswept @mitsvriii

[fxstpace]

little white lies

summary: miya atsumu needs to find a date for his cousin’s wedding, or risk getting hounded by all his relatives prying into his business. unless said business is you—in which case, he’s all for it. maybe he can work up the courage to ask you out for real while he’s at it.

pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader genres: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers!au, fake dating!au, idiots to idiots in love, debatable attempts at comedy were made word count: 9.2k

⇢ warnings: profanity, one (1) scene where atsumu is shirtless

Miya Atsumu acknowledges the fact that he has made several stupid decisions throughout the course of his life. 

There was the time he decided that dipping waffles in hot sauce would make for a tasty food combination. (It did not, and he ended up lying in bed with a stomach ache for three days with a grumbling Osamu looking after him). Then there was that incident where he proudly claimed he could crush an entire watermelon with his bare hands. (He could not, and Suna had laughed his ass off when Aran easily demonstrated the same feat). 

And then, there was the time he tried to comfort you after you watched Hachiko Monogatari together. You’d been sniffling quietly, your eyes red and puffy, when he awkwardly handed you a tissue and said, “‘S okay. The dog’s probably acted in better movies.”  

You’d stared at him, horrified, before bursting into tears. Osamu had walked in just in time to witness you chuck a pillow at Atsumu’s head, calling him an emotionally inept moron; he’d laughed so hard, he dropped the tub of ice cream he was holding and got mint chocolate chip all over the carpet. Atsumu still cringes whenever he thinks of it.

Nothing much has changed in Atsumu’s life. He still has a massive crush on you, and he still makes stupid decisions.

What transpired in the Miya twins’ childhood home’s sitting room fifteen minutes ago is a testament to this tragic fact.

When the Miya brothers’ cousin, Shohei, called them up to invite them to his wedding taking place in two weeks, Atsumu and Osamu were nothing short of elated. Shohei video-called them, and for a good five minutes, all Atsumu did was scream incoherently when he announced that the wedding date had been fixed. Osamu promised to close Onigiri Miya on the Saturday two weeks hence, and Atsumu made a mental note to ask Meian if he could take the weekend off.

Shohei then turned the phone to their grandmother, sitting on her favourite armchair with the pink satin cushion, wrinkles by the corners of her eyes and sagging skin by her cheeks. Atsumu’s heart lifted at the sight of her—he was her favourite grandson, after all—and when she smiled at the twins, her lips were slightly puckered because she didn’t have her dentures in yet. 

But that wasn’t the important bit. It shouldn’t have been what Atsumu focused on most, as he opened his mouth to tease her. He should have been focusing on the knowing, youthful gleam in the Miya household’s matriarch’s eyes—a gleam that spelled trouble when she set her gaze straight at him.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Grandma Miya herself,” Atsumu drawled.

“Grandma Miya won’t be living for much longer,” she retorted, not one to be outdone by her own grandson.

Osamu had frowned. “Don’t say things like that, Grandma. It’s superstitious.”

Shohei had sighed dramatically, making a face at Osamu. “She does it all the time now. You should hear her go on and on. It’s good that you’re getting married, Shohei. This old woman won’t live for much longer, but at least I can see one of my grandsons getting married. Shame on the twins for making me live in suspense!” He said the last bit with an imitation of Grandma Miya’s toothless drawl, and it drew out a giggle from Atsumu and a swat on the shoulder to Shohei from the woman herself.

“Maybe I do have a girl in mind, Grandma,” Atsumu said on instinct, waggling his eyebrows. “I just haven’t told anyone yet.”

Grandma Miya’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Is she nice?”

“The best,” he had promised. “You’ll love her.”

Beside him, Osamu had gone very still. Even Shohei quietened down, letting Atsumu and their grandmother talk. In hindsight, Atsumu probably should have realised what a horrific blunder he was making, but he had a habit of letting his mouth run loose and this was one of those times.

Grandma Miya’s eyes had lit up. She had lifted the corners of her mouth into such a wide, hopeful smile, that Atsumu felt a twinge of guilt deep in his chest for lying to her. He couldn’t take back his words, however, because Grandma Miya excitedly clasped her fingers together and said, “You’ll bring her along to Shohei’s wedding, won’t you? She must meet the rest of the family. It’ll be nice for Sakura to meet her, too.”

Shohei nodded. Sakura was his future wife, a beautiful and kind lady who complemented Atsumu’s cousin perfectly. “Sakura would love to meet someone that’s going to be part of our family.”

Osamu didn’t say anything. When Atsumu looked at him, he had his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Uh—” he began.

“No hesitating,” Grandma Miya had said firmly. “Tell her to come along. It will be fun.”

Atsumu couldn’t deny that; events that took place within the Miya family were always fun. But he couldn’t exactly create a girlfriend out of nothing, could he? Belatedly, Atsumu felt the guilt and horror of his words seep into his brain. He flashed a panicked look at his brother, but Osamu only shook his head and didn’t say anything. 

He looked back into his phone screen, at his grandmother’s happy expression. If there was one thing Atsumu hated, it was letting down the people important to him.

Meekly, he nodded and forced a smile to his face. “Of course, Grandma. Don’t say I don’t do things for you.”

“Silly child,” said Grandma Miya affectionately, and that had been that.

Atsumu has since paced in front of the living room couch exactly eight times after Osamu pressed end on the call. He twirls in his spot, ready for his ninth walk around the living room. His brother sits on the sofa with one leg thrown up, watching him amusedly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Okay,” Osamu interjects. “Swearing isn’t gon’ help your situation.”

“What else can I do?” Atsumu wails pathetically, flopping onto the sofa next to his brother. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Glad to know you’re aware.”

“Samu, what do I do?” Atsumu leans his elbows on his knees and holds his hand in his hands. “‘m so screwed.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you decided to get Grandma’s hopes up for nothin’.”

Atsumu huffs, annoyed at both himself and his brother for being so unhelpful. “I know that, asshole. I jus’ meant— What the fuck do I do about it now?”

Osamu pats his brother on the shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face. “Tsumu, I can think of only one solution.”

“What?”

“You need to find yourself a girlfriend.”

Atsumu wrinkles his nose when you wave a bottle of some sort of bubbly, green-coloured concoction at his face. It looks disgusting even through the translucent plastic, and he has no doubt that it’ll taste twice as bad.

“Eugh. What’s that?”

“Wow. It’s so nice to see you too, Atsumu. I’ve only just flown back from halfway across the world after two weeks. No big deal at all,” you deadpan, staring at him.

“Yeah, I’m so happy you’re back, but what is that, and is it for me?”

Atsumu is glad you’re back—you’d gone overseas on your first ever business trip at the company you work at, and he’d missed your presence at the Tokyo apartment right next to his. He tries to verbalise it, but truthfully, his attention is solely fixed on the green muck you’re holding out to him.

“It is, actually,” you reply, shoving it into his waiting hands so he can scrutinise it better. You turn back and rummage through your open suitcase, pulling out an identical bottle—only this one is filled with something that looks like a cross between a squashed pumpkin and a gruesome shade of brown he doesn’t want to define. “And this one’s for Osamu. Can you give it to him the next time you go back to Hyogo?”

He lets out a sound of disgust, puffing out his cheeks and blowing a raspberry at you. “You couldn’t have gotten us somethin’ more… eatable?”

“Edible, Atsumu,” you correct, walking around the luggage strewn about your living room and plopping down on your sofa with a grunt. “This is what’s popular everywhere now. Apparently.”

“That doesn’t sound very optimistic,” he points out, sitting down next to you. Atsumu holds the drink bottle close to his face and squints at the ingredients printed on the back in a tiny font. “Is that… spinach?”

“Yeah.”

“And…” he continues, “kale? What’s a kale?”

“It’s some kind of leaf? Kinda like spinach,” you say, shrugging. 

“Oh, wonderful. This is a cocktail for cows.”

You huff out a soft laugh, shoulders shaking with the movement. Atsumu grins, pleased that he’s made you smile. 

“It’s supposed to be healthy, Tsumu. And you’re a professional volleyball player so I figured you’d drink stuff like this.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Atsumu shudders, but pockets the bottle anyway. It bulges out of the side of his cargo pants and he might look a little silly, but it’s really the thought that counts; the fact that you’d bought this drink with him in mind makes his heart rate spike. He nods at the muddy orange drink you left on the floor, meant for Osamu. “What’s in that one?”

“Carrot and squash, if I remember correctly.”

Atsumu gags. “Did’ya pick the worst flavours or somethin’? You say this is popular?”

You nod, a little embarrassed. “They were selling it everywhere I went!” you defend. “I just figured it was, like, the thing, or whatever.”

“If me and the team promoted this, it’d be sold out in no time,” he says thoughtfully. “Even if it tastes like a gourmet meal for goats.”

“So humble.” You roll your eyes, letting your head fall back on the couch cushion. 

Your airport clothes—a hoodie and jeans—stick uncomfortably to your skin after hours of being airborne, and you scratch your elbow. Atsumu thinks it must be annoying; you must be itching to peel off your clothes and take a warm shower.

But first, Miya Atsumu needs to ask you out.

He tries not to let the wording mess with his head. He’s doing this for his grandmother, and most certainly not because of the self-indulgent fantasies his mind conjures up for him when he’s asleep. Dreams of holding your hand, walking through the cherry blossoms together, kissing your cheek and taking in your delighted gasp—they haunt him even in his waking moments, and Atsumu aches to make them turn into a reality.

He acknowledges that he is a coward in some ways. This is one of them.

“Hey…” he begins, and then trails off, unsure.

“Hm?”

“That bottle of muck you got for Osamu—” Atsumu gulps, ignoring the hammering of his heart inside his chest. “Think he’d like it more if you gave it to him yourself.”

You sigh. “I would love to, Atsumu, but I don’t know when I’ll be going to Hyogo next. I don’t want that milkshake to stay rotting in my fridge for, like, six months.”

“Well… I’m goin’ there next Saturday. Wanna come with?”

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon. It’s Shohei’s wedding. You can’t miss it. Grandma Miya specifically told me to tell you to get your ass down there.”

It’s a lie that slips easily through his teeth, but he’s not exactly wrong, is he? Just—bending the truth a little. Grandma Miya did tell him to bring his girlfriend with him, and if he thinks about it, you are his girl friend, aren’t you? With a space in between the two words, but that’s just semantics. Atsumu ignores the voice in the back of his mind that tells him he’s coming up with excuses that he used to think of when he was in elementary school. 

“I’ll think about it—”

“You have to,” Atsumu implores, briefly letting go of his pride in favour of convincing you to come with him to his hometown. “It’ll be a nice break. You can meet Samu and Shohei. Have fun at a wedding—you know how fun Miya weddings are. Get dressed up, dance around a bit. And Grandma would be ecstatic if you came.”

“Ecstatic…” you echo, an amused smile flickering on your face. “Did Osamu teach you that word?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. “But that’s not the point! The point is, I want your company for Shohei’s wedding.”

Atsumu waits for his words to sink in. He notices your sharp inhale when he emphasises on the fact that he wants you there. This one is the truth, and nothing but; there is no one else he would rather go to his cousin’s wedding with. 

For all the lies he’s spouted out this afternoon, some part of Miya Atsumu wants you to recognise that he’s not lying this time.

“So, please,” he continues quietly, “will you come with me to Shohei’s wedding?”

You look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. A moment later, you nod.

“...Fine. But you’re paying for the train tickets.”

Atsumu’s exhale is both relieved and anticipatory.

It takes exactly two hours and forty-six minutes to get to Hyogo from Tokyo by train. Atsumu purchases the tickets, partly because you’d asked him to, but mostly because of the steady feeling of guilt gnawing at his chest. He even purchases tickets for the first-class coach, because he wants you to be as comfortable as possible, even going so far as to give up the window seat for the aisle one.

“You’re being weirdly nice,” you note suspiciously, as he hefts your suitcase onto the rack above. 

Atsumu grunts with exertion, his muscles rippling under his shirt. He takes in the small bob of your throat at the sight with a gleeful sense of pride. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about. I’m always nice.”

Luggage secured successfully, he rubs the palms of his hands on his jeans and settles down into the seat next to you. The plush cushion is soft and velvety to the touch, a dark shade of blue that’s soothing to the eye. As he looks around, he can’t help but notice that the rest of the passengers consist of old people—senior citizens, with wobbly knees and wrinkled skin. Old and married, they must be on their way back to their hometown after visiting their children and grandchildren in Tokyo. As far as he can tell, you and Atsumu are the only two people here who don’t have a relationship beyond the platonic. There’s the occasional family of four: a tired husband, an even more tired wife, and two boisterous children. One child, no more than four years old, with her hair done up in two pigtails, points a chubby finger at him.

“Mama, look! That man looks like Pikachu!” she exclaims loudly.

You giggle at the chagrined look on Atsumu’s face, and his heart lifts slightly at the sound.

“Komi! Shhh. It’s rude to point at people.” Her mother pulls her hand down, giving Atsumu an apologetic bow of her head.

“She has a point, I guess,” you whisper to your friend, nudging his shoulder.

“The point being…?”

“You do look like Pikachu.”

“Huh?”

“Your hair, Tsumu.” You grin mischievously. “It’s yellow. You’re practically halfway to having electric powers.”

Atsumu flushes. He runs a hand through his dyed-blond hair self-consciously. “That bad, eh?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, shrugging. “Your fans seem to like it.”

“And you?” he asks softly. “You’ve never told me what you think.”

You hum and look away, fiddling with your phone case. “If you like it, then I like it.”

“That’s not even an answer.” Still, Atsumu will admit that your reply makes him happy.

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s—”

“You both argue like Mama an’ Papa.”

Startled, you and Atsumu look in front of you. Komi pokes her head out from the seat in front of you, a wide grin on her lips. You stifle a laugh; it turns out Komi and her brother have occupied the seats in front of you and him. The tips of Atsumu’s ears turn crimson—whether with embarrassment at being caught bickering by a four-year-old, or at Komi’s previous comment about his hair, he isn’t sure.

“Hello, there,” you greet the small girl with a grin as wide as hers. “Komi, isn’t it?”

She nods, her pigtails rocking with the movement. “‘m Komi! An’ my brother is Kento!”

“It’s very nice to meet you both, Komi and Kento,” you say, solemnly holding out a hand for her to shake. Although you haven’t met her brother, you can hear his excited babbles from his location on his mother’s lap. “I’m ____, and this is my friend, Atsumu.”

“But you can call me Tsum,” Atsumu supplies, knowing it must be hard for the little one to pronounce his name properly.

Komi shakes your hand with the sort of vigour that one only has at the young age of four, and then glances expectantly at Atsumu. He holds out his hand as well, and the little girl grips it with all the strength she can muster. Her soft palm is sticky; once she releases it, he tries to discreetly rub his own palm on the seat in front of him, garnering a frown from you.

Slowly, the train begins to chug forward.

“Tsum and ____,” Komi says, “are you both like Mama an’ Papa?”

“Like… Mama and Papa?” you repeat, tilting your head.

“Yeah! Like, sleepin’ in the same room an’ givin’ each other kissies while cooking dinner!”

Atsumu gapes at the child. He feels his face heat up at the insinuation—if Komi thought his hair was like Pikachu earlier, then now she’d surely think his entire face was akin to Charmeleon, or something of that sort. Unable to answer, he glances at you.

Your face settles in an expression that he can only describe as pained amusement. Your lips twitch up, finding the whole situation funny, but you pick at your cuticles at the same time. A chuckle forces its way out of his mouth.

“That’s right, Komi,” Atsumu says. “Except we aren’t… married yet.”

The girl tilts her head, confused. “Wha’s that mean?”

“It means” —Atsumu pauses, just enough to notice the stupefied glower you give him— “that we haven’t promised each other what your Mama and Papa promised each other.”

“Oh!” Komi gasps, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She grips the seat with her tiny hands, clearly thrilled at his words. “Like a pinkie promise?”

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Atsumu scolds himself yet again for letting his mouth run loose all the damn time. How is he supposed to break this poor, innocent girl’s heart by telling her that you and Atsumu aren’t married? Heck, you aren’t even dating, and he doesn’t even know if you want to get married to someone eventually. He wishes he could blabber about his feelings for you directly to you—but it appears that he is tongue-tied only around you, as well. The irony isn’t lost on him.

Regardless, he cannot take back his words now, which means he must plough on.

Ignoring your pointed glare, he nods. “Exactly. You’re very smart, aren’t you, Komi?”

“‘m the third in my class!” The girl beams proudly.

“Really?” Atsumu gasps. “I was only fifth!”

“From the bottom,” you interject, seemingly having finally found your voice.

“Don’t listen to her,” he says. “She’s just trying to make me look stupid.”

Komi giggles. “Papa says that’s a bad word.”

“And Papa is right.” Atsumu nods. “Idiot is also a bad word.”

“You’re so brilliant, Tsumu,” you mutter. “Teaching her bad words by saying they’re bad. Genius.”

“See, Komi, now what ____ did is something called sarchasm—”

You let out an odd noise, something in between an exasperated sigh and an amused giggle.

“...And now she’s laughin’ at me,” Atsumu finishes, staring at Komi and shaking his head ruefully. “Can’t believe I’m payin’ for this one’s train tickets.”

Komi’s curious gaze darts between you and Atsumu, a little confused but wholly entertained. “Stop, stop, stop!” She holds her palms out as though she’s a judge imparting all her four-years worth of knowledge to pass her verdict. “Both of you need to make a pinkie promise.”

You blink. “What for, Komi?”

“To always love each other. Forever an’ ever, until you both die!” she declares seriously.

Atsumu’s smile turns soft around the edges. Ah, the child-like innocence that vanishes so quickly. He doesn’t remember much of his own childhood—it’s mostly just a blur of juvenile volleyball and fistfights with Osamu and Aran, and playdates where you would come over with your mother and the three of you would romp around with the twins’ toy dinosaurs—but he hopes he had the same sort of faith in the world that little Komi so proudly presents to him. 

He turns to you, fingers already twitching with the urge to wrap his little finger around yours. “I think you have a point, Komi. Whaddya say?”

“I agree,” you say quietly, shifting slightly in your seat.

Atsumu gently takes your hand in his, hooking his pinkie finger with yours. Your skin is soft, a little bit clammy, but so is his. He swallows thickly, nervous for no reason at all, and says:

“____, I promise to love you forever and ever, until we both die.”

“I, um” —you inhale shakily— “I promise to do the same.”

He squeezes lightly and then lets go, letting his hand drop down to his lap. It was only a brief moment of contact—barely thirty seconds—but Atsumu’s finger twitches again; he aches to prolong the contact, to hold not just your finger but your entire palm, encase it within his hand’s confines, and never let you go.

“No, you didn’ do it properly!” Komi whines, her chubby fingers tightening around the headrest. 

The volleyball player’s gaze snaps back to his small friend’s face. Gruffly, still wary, he asks, “What did we do wrong, Komi?”

“Mama an’ Papa always make me an’ Kento kiss after we fight! You should do the same!”

“But we haven’t fought, Komi,” you try to gently persuade her from exacerbating your situation. 

It doesn’t work. Komi is adamant, as most children are, and Atsumu senses the beginning of a tantrum. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Komi and Kento’s parents napping in their seats, probably taking a well-deserved break from handling two kids. He doesn’t want to wake them up, all because he couldn’t satisfy their daughter’s harmless demands.

“All right, all right,” he says, flashing Komi a winning smile. “We’ll kiss to seal the deal, ‘kay?”

Next to him, he hears your sharp intake of breath. Atsumu’s heart thuds in his chest, a marching band of his own. The words just slipped out—as they always do. It is his fatal flaw.

Before he can turn towards you, he freezes. 

You kiss him on his cheek. 

You kissed him.

He can feel remnants of your lip balm on his skin, a slightly oily residue that he doesn’t bother wiping away. His brain feels like it’s a laptop with the Blue Screen Of Death causing it to cease all functions; blood rushes to his ears.

“There,” you tell Komi with an air of finality. “Pinkie promise made properly.”

The girl giggles and claps her hands, but he can tell she’s getting tired as well. With one last parting smile, she turns back around, presumably to nap for the one hour of travel left.

Atsumu’s cheek tingles at the spot where you kissed him. He resists the urge to brush his fingers against it, conscious of the fact that you might find it weird. Instead, he forces down the giddy smile that threatens to overcome his face and joins you in silently observing the countryside whip past him through the window.

Jealousy is an emotion Miya Atsumu grapples with rather frequently, and it’s no exception when he sees his brother tackle you into a hug as soon as he lays eyes upon you both.

Meanwhile, he’s left standing at the genkan, carrying both your bags and suitcases. Osamu doesn’t even spare him a look. Atsumu scowls; is this what their brotherly love has been reduced to?

“Don’ mind me,” he announces, toeing off his shoes and socks. “‘m just a luggage carrier.”

“Guest room’s all yours,” his brother says, arm still wrapped around your shoulder. 

You snicker at Atsumu’s disgruntled expression and he rolls his eyes. Hefting a bag on his shoulder, he smirks and shoots back, “Someone’s gotta be the useful one. Cookin’ isn’t gonna save your life.”

“Dinner’s on you, Tsumu,” Osamu calls out to his retreating back. “And then we’ll see who survives after eatin’ your food.”

Atsumu blanches, but he sees the amused tilt of your head and flashes a winning grin at you instead, trying to quell the envy that bubbles in his chest when he sees Osamu whisper something into your ear and you giggle. 

After depositing your bags in the guest room, Atsumu heads upstairs to put his own luggage away and wash up a little. He can hear the sounds of you and Osamu talking and laughing downstairs, taking the time to catch up on everything you’d missed in Hyogo district—about the twins’ mother and her little circle of friends, the news about when one of their neighbours threatened to cut down another person’s apple tree—and your delighted laugh sends a ripple of something warm down his spine. 

He knows he’s well and truly fucked when he thinks about how much he wishes he could be the one to draw those elated sounds out of your mouth.

Downstairs, you’re doubled over with laughter as Osamu regales you with the story of their Grandma Miya accidentally crashing the wrong knitting circle and not realising until three meetings in that they were discussing trashy romance webnovels instead of actually knitting. Atsumu lingers at the top of the stairs, listening to your guffaws. You snort, once, and it sends you and Osamu into peals of laughter again. His fingers curl around the bannister.

The volleyball player steels himself, plastering on a confident smile as he saunters down the stairs.

“Oi, what’s so funny?” he drawls. “Ya laughin’ without me now?”

“Just tellin’ her about Grandma’s new knitting club,” Osamu says. “She’s startin’ to think she can direct a romantic drama now.”

“I mean, she probably could,” you agree, smiling. “From what I know of her, your grandmother is a force.”

Atsumu scoffs, dropping into the armchair closest to you. He mutters, “A force that guilt-tripped me into bringin’ a date to the wedding.”

Osamu snickers. You tilt your head, curious. “A date for Shohei’s wedding?”

“Yeah. And if I show up without one, I’m doomed. Grandma’ll start parading me around to every eligible bachelorette she’s ever met—the neighbours, the cashier at the konbini I said looks cute, random strangers on the street.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe you’ll find someone perfect.”

Atsumu swallows down a groan. The last thing he needs is for you to think he’s taking his grandmother’s matchmaking seriously. “Nah, it’s a nightmare waiting to happen. Imagine Grandma introducin’ me to that one lady who brought natto salad to her friend’s birthday party.”

Osamu barks out a laugh. “Everyone ended up with really bad diarrhea that day,” he explains to you. “Guess Tsumu will hafta rely on me for cookin’ unless he wants bowel problems by the time he’s thirty.”

“As if,” Atsumu says quickly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Point is, I need someone to save me from this circus.”

“Hm, better start polishing your flirtin’ skills, Atsumu.” You give him a teasing smile.

His eyes lock with yours for a fraction of a second longer than he intends, and the words sit heavy on his tongue. You’re my date. I was thinkin’ of asking you. But his throat tightens; instead, he tosses a pillow at his twin brother to cover his nerves.

“You busy, Samu? Wanna be my date?” he jokes, deflecting easily.

Osamu catches the pillow without missing a beat, and then shudders. “Not a chance. The second they see me with you, they’ll think you’ve finally lost it.”

“Hasn’t he already?” you pipe up. 

Atsumu clutches his chest dramatically. “Even you, ____? Betrayed in my own home!”

“Technically, it’s Samu’s home.”

Osamu grins triumphantly. Atsumu sneers.

“Well, don’t worry ‘bout me,” he says, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. “I’ll find someone. Real classy. Someone who’ll shut Grandma up for a whole year.”

His brother rolls his eyes. “Sure you will, Tsumu.”

You glance at Atsumu again, lips pressed together in a thin line. There’s something indecipherable in your eyes, the way your forehead is creased ever-so slightly. Before he can say anything, Osamu’s phone rings. He excuses himself to take the call, leaving the two of you alone.

“Who’s the lucky fake date?” you ask after a beat. You don’t meet his gaze.

He rubs the back of his neck, debating his next move. His heart pounds as he tries to muster some semblance of courage, but all he manages is a lopsided grin and a shrug.

“Dunno. Guess I’ll know when I see her.”

“We have a problem.”

“We do?” Atsumu has only just woken up. His brain is still struggling to catch up with the rest of him; he blinks once, twice, waiting for your statement to sink in. 

“Get up, loser,” you say, walking into his bedroom like you own the place. You flick his duvet off of his body. “We’re going shopping.”

Atsumu sits up, pressing his palms to his face and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The duvet slips further down.

“Fuck!” you yelp, immediately turning around. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t see anythin’.”

A shiver ripples through his body. Without the warmth of his blanket cocooning his body, the cold of the morning seeps into his skin. He’s trying to figure out why, exactly, he’s being presented with a marvellous view of your back, and what you’re apologising for, when the chill makes him shiver again.

Oh. He looks down at himself. 

Atsumu didn’t wear a shirt to bed.

His cheeks flood with heat, the back of his neck prickling with embarrassment. “Er. I’m wearin’ pants,” he says, like that’s going to be of any help.

“I’m, um, going to leave,” you say. Your voice sounds stilted—likely due to being similarly embarrassed by Atsumu’s bare-chestedness. Atsumu grunts in agreement. You walk out slowly, gingerly tip-toeing over a discarded pair of sweatpants he left lying on the floor.

You shut the door behind you, face lowered, and exaggeratedly twist the doorknob until it lets out a click sound, as though you’re showing him that you have not seen anything indecent. As though his abs have personally offended you. Like you’re a National Geographic narrator documenting a rare, disgruntled creature in the wild. 

The shirtless Miya Atsumu, with its ruffled plumage and tragic morning breath, appears to challenge the peace of its habitat.

Ha. Wouldn’t that be a hoot.

To his credit, Atsumu gives himself five minutes before he flops onto his stomach and screams into his pillow. Then, he rises and rummages through his closet for a shirt—he settles for a grey one that he probably stole from Osamu’s closet during high school—and, still mortified, slips out of his bedroom and heads downstairs to see if breakfast is ready.

He finds his mother and you sitting side-by-side on cushions by the chabudai. It’s the usual motherly nonsense she always spouts whenever you come over—gushing over your job, asking about your parents, and, of course, wondering if you have a boyfriend yet.

“Not yet, Miya-san,” you reply politely, though Atsumu can tell you’re a little embarrassed. Your eyebrows furrow just slightly, and it’s always a tic you’ve had, Atsumu’s discovered.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad,” his mother says. “Beautiful girls like you should have boys tripping over their own two feet to date you.”

Atsumu is sure he’s tripped over his own two feet in front of you enough times by now for him to be able to date you. He clears his throat and puts a little swagger to his step when he sits down opposite you. “Missed me, Ma?”

“Slightly lesser than how much I missed ____,” she says.

“Just adopt her already, why don’t you?” Atsumu quips, rolling his eyes.

His mother actually seems to consider this, as she presses her lips together. “Marry one of the twins, ____. You know I would love to have you as a daughter-in-law.”

Your eyes widen, and you flounder, beseechingly locking eyes with Atsumu and begging him to help you out. He smiles a little. He remembers why he brought you here in the first place. His smile gets wiped out in an instant.

It’s not as though Miya Atsumu doesn’t want to spend time with you. He knows Shohei would love to have you at his wedding, and Hyogo is a beautiful place to be at this time of the year. But the thought that he needs you to be a scapegoat to appease Grandma Miya niggles at the back of his mind, unforgiving. He really should tell you, he thinks.

Thankfully, you’re saved from his mother’s matchmaking attempts by Osamu, who walks in balancing bowls of rice and miso soup. He sets them down on the table expertly—Onigiri Miya has trained him well—and plops down on a cushion next to his brother. 

“Sorry for bein’ late,” he says gruffly. “Forgot to add salt in the miso.”

It smells delicious. Atsumu has to admit that he’s missed his brother’s cooking. After surviving on a majority of meals that were either konbini snacks or cheap ramen in Tokyo, home-cooked food makes his stomach grumble in a good way.

The four of you chorus your gratitude for the meal with bowed heads and folded palms, and then dig in. Atsumu slurps up the miso soup, chewing on a piece of tofu. It’s heavenly—it really is, and he nudges his brother’s side with his elbow to convey it. Osamu nudges back, and the table is silent for some time.

“Oh, by the way,” his mother says, “we need to get your suits from the dry cleaners. I have to go help your aunt out with last-minute wedding preparations, so I need one of you to do it.”

“Not me,” Osamu says. “I’ve got a restaurant to run.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, Osamu,” she continues, giving him a small smile. “That’s why I asked ____ to wake up Atsumu early today. Both of you still have the same build, so Atsumu can go to the tailor’s to see if it fits or if he needs any adjustments.”

“Oh,” says Atsumu. You don’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t know we had actual work to do today.”

“I also offered to buy ____ a dress, but she refused.” His mother casts a quick, affectionate glance at you. “So, Atsumu, I need you to buy her one, all right? Get her a gorgeous one.”

“O’course I will,” he says, quietly.

Osamu looks curiously between you both. “Didn’t ____ tell you all this when she came to wake you up, Tsumu?”

A wad of rice gets lodged in Atsumu’s throat. You accidentally inhale miso soup through your nose. Both of you cough and splutter.

Osamu frantically pats Atsumu’s back, while you, eyes watering, accept a glass of water from the twins’ mother. Something unfurls inside Atsumu’s chest at the thought of spending the whole day with you, getting his suit tailored and buying you a dress.  

It’s almost like you’re actually his date for his cousin’s wedding.

Is it weird that Miya Atsumu wants to see your reaction to him wearing a suit? Is he being presumptuous in the way he lifts his chin and puffs out his chest so that the tuxedo fits him better? What are your thoughts about men wearing tuxedos and ties, in general? Should he buy a tie that matches your dress?

This, and other such mysteries of life, are what the volleyball player ponders over in the tiny fitting room while one of the seamsters kneels in front of him and measures the length of his leg with measuring tape. 

Atsumu has to constantly remind himself that you don’t know he’s your date yet. The wedding is tomorrow. He doesn’t know if he has it in him to stick it out until then. 

“All done,” the seamster announces, getting back to his feet. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be able to alter this to the right size.”

“Thanks,” Atsumu mumbles, pulling back the curtain and heading outside. 

You’re sitting on one of the couches they’ve kept by the corner of the shop, scrolling through something on your phone. The bag with your new dress—his mother’s gift to you—is placed on the floor by your feet. He doesn’t know what the dress looks like; you’d insisted on buying it secretly because it was, apparently, embarrassing to go dress-shopping with a close friend who happens to be a well-built, devilishly handsome, popular, famous pro-volleyball player. 

Not that you said those words exactly, but Atsumu can fill in the blanks.

He plops down next to you, leaning back and circling his head to get rid of the cricks in his neck. You put your phone away and glance at him.

“Take a picture,” Atsumu says, not looking back at you. “Lasts longer.”

“If only your face actually looked good in photos.”

“My face looks excellent. Haven’t ya seen me and Bokuto in the Calpis advertisement?” It was a small gig they’d gotten right after the Olympics season. Kuroo had said it would make for good PR, and Atsumu and Bokuto jumped at the chance to have their small five minutes of fame. Shouyou had sulked about not being a part of it for two weeks straight afterwards.

“I have, actually,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know I wouldn’t ever miss out on that. I’m surprised no one here’s recognised you yet.”

“Livin’ under a rock, the whole lot of them,” Atsumu mutters.

You laugh softly. “The fame’s gone to your head, Atsumu. Don’t forget me when you and the team go gallivanting across the country.”

“You know I wouldn’t ever be able to forget you,” he says, after a beat. “You’re, like, a part of me now.”

You blink. “That’s kind of weird.”

Atsumu’s cheeks burn. How is it that he always, always fumbles so much in front of you? It’s like his brain sees you and immediately decides to unplug itself for maintenance. He gulps, thinking of ways to salvage whatever dignity he has left.

“‘S not weird,” he forces out. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I think you spent more time at our house durin’ elementary school than you did at your own.”

“Fair enough,” you acquiesce. Shifting slightly, you eye the bit of fabric from your dress that pokes out of the paper bag. “Still can’t believe your mom insisted on getting me a dress,” you murmur, lightly brushing your fingertips against the edge of the bag. “It’s a bit over-the-top, don’t you think?”

“She just likes you a lot,” he responds. “Honestly, I’m startin’ the think she likes you more than me or Osamu.”

“That’s not a very high bar.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no malice in the action. “But it’s probably ‘cause I didn’t dunk her favourite teapot into the toilet when I was seven.”

“That was an accident! And I apologised more than a hundred times!”

“Yeah, and I’m sure the apology totally made up for the fact that you made Osamu stick his hand down there and fish it out for you.”

“Why d’you always take his side?” Atsumu grumbles. “Can’t ever catch a break with both of you around, I swear.”

You lean back, shoulder brushing against his. Atsumu can feel your gaze roving over his face; he bites the inside of his cheek, feeling strangely self-conscious.

“Maybe,” you say, “I just enjoy making fun of you. You always make fun of me back. It’s nice.”

Atsumu swallows hard, trying to focus on anything else—the tacky wallpaper, the sound of pop music blaring from the shop next door. Anything but the way your words make his heart somersault, or the way your smile lingers for a second more than usual. 

“That’s cruel, yaknow,” he manages to say. “Gangin’ up on me all the time. Makes a guy feel unloved.”

You stay quiet, thoughtfully steepling your fingers under your chin. Atsumu glances at you from the corner of his eye. Your expression doesn’t betray anything, until you reach out and gently grasp his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “Didn’t realise you didn’t like it.”

Miya Atsumu is certain—not for the first time in his life—that he’s utterly doomed. It’s a little bit pathetic, really. It started back in middle school, and still, somehow, he’s unable to move on. You’ve consumed him. Your thumb brushes over the veins on his wrist; he wonders if you can feel his pulse racing.

“Don’t stop,” he says, because what else does a fool in love say?

“Atsumu, I—”

You’re interrupted by the seamster, who calls Atsumu over to the register to finish his billing. He grits his teeth. This is the worst sort of interruption ever. He turns to face you properly, because maybe if he pretends he didn’t hear the tailor, you’ll tell him what you were about to say. 

But your face is carefully blank, your lips pressed together. “Go on,” you tell him. “Don’t forget to collect Osamu’s tux, too.”

“Yeah, okay.” Atsumu nods once, twice. He gently extricates his hand from your grasp, as much as he dislikes it. “I’ll, uh, go do that, then.”

“Okay.”

Atsumu hates this. He’s not sure if he even wants to attend the wedding anymore. All his relatives are going to heckle him about his love life—and that’s fine, he can deal with them. He just doesn’t want his grandmother’s face to crumple with disappointment on finding out her grandson’s whole “relationship” was a farce. Feeling sick to his stomach, he pays for the alterations done to his and his brother’s outfits, and gestures for you to accompany him outside. 

You don’t meet his eyes the entire way back home.

It’s the eve of the wedding reception, and Miya Atsumu can’t find you anywhere.

The reception hall is lovely. Golden lanterns hang from the ceiling, enveloping everyone in a soft, warm glow. Vases of peonies and cherry blossoms, intertwined with sprigs of baby’s breath, are placed on top of the soft linen covering each table. The delicate strains of a koto and shamisen ensemble weave through the air. The centerpiece stage, framed by cascading fairy lights and flowing silk, bear the names of the bride and the groom, written in exquisite calligraphy. An array of traditional Japanese sweets and cups of sake are placed on a long table by the corner of the hall.

Shohei and Sakura sit by the shintaku, looking resplendent in their outfits, surrounded by family members and friends. He’s already congratulated them, clapping his cousin on the back and winking proudly at Sakura. You’re nowhere near them, so he tries the snack table instead.

Atsumu hides his mounting worry by shoving a piece of mochi into his mouth. He racks his brain, trying to think of other possible hideouts where he can find you. It’s not like you to disappear like this—and it’s a shame, really, because all he wants is to be by your side this evening. Osamu is posing for a group photo with his second cousins and his mother is helping his aunt with the gift bags, but you’re not anywhere near them either.

He knows you won’t be at the smoking area where his uncle has held court all evening, but he decides to check anyway. Atsumu gives the area a cursory glance, confirming that you’re not among them, before hastily walking out. He curses under his breath, his usual confidence giving way to an unfamiliar, gnawing unease.

You’re supposed to be here. You said you’d be here.

He adjusts the lapels of his tailored suit and forces himself to think rationally. You’re probably just outside, he tells himself, getting some air or hiding from the relentless matchmaking attempts of meddlesome aunts. It’s probably fine. It has to be.

Atsumu’s footsteps turn towards the garden doors. His urgency is masked by the cocky, practiced demeanour he wears like a second skin.

“Atsumu, boy, where d’you think you’re running off to now?”

The volleyball player freezes mid-step. He exhales slowly and drags a hand through his meticulously styled hair before turning around.

Grandma Miya stands by the hall’s entrance, wearing a lavender kimono that glows under the warm lights. Her lacquered cane gleams as she taps it softly against the polished floor. Despite her diminutive frame, his grandmother commands the space effortlessly. Sharp eyes—so like his own—pin him in place.

“‘M not runnin’ anywhere, Grandma,” Atsumu says, summoning a sheepish smile that he hopes will placate her. “Just, uh, checkin’ on something.”

Her eyebrows lift, arching in a way that shows she’s wholly unconvinced. “Checking on something or someone?”

Atsumu opens his mouth, an excuse perched on the tip of his tongue, but she raises a hand and continues before he can say anything. “Thought you ought to know—there’s a pretty girl standing outside in the garden cussin’ out your name like she’s auditioning for a sailor’s choir. Care to explain why?”

“Wait—outside?”

“So you do know her,” Grandma Miya states.

“Um. Yeah—I— She’s—” The grin he’s worn like armour falters under the Miya matriarch’s scrutinising gaze.

“Out with it, Tsumu,” she prompts, tapping her cane once on the floor. “Who is she?”

“She’s my… date,” Atsumu admits. The words tumble out awkwardly, and he can’t deny the way it sounds both weirdly foreign but strangely right at the same time. “For the wedding.”

His grandmother’s eyes narrow. “And why is she out there cursing you to Hell and back all alone in the cold?”

“I didn’t—” He stops, shoulders slumping. He knows there’s no point in lying—not to her. Grandma Miya has always been able to see right through him, as though his thoughts are scrawled across his face.

“She’s not really my date,” Atsumu mutters, gaze downcast. “I mean, she is, but she doesn’t… know that she is.”

Grandma Miya blinks, and then lets out a short huff of laughter. “Atsumu, are you tellin’ me you brought this poor girl here, told everyone she’s your date, but didn’t think to inform her of that little detail?”

“I didn’t forget,” Atsumu protests, though his words sound weak to his own ears. “I just didn’t have the chance to tell her.”

“Why would you go and do something so spectacularly foolish?”

He hesitates, avoiding her eyes. “‘Cause I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he says quietly, the admission dragging itself out of his throat.

His grandmother’s smile fades, and without it, her wrinkles look more and more pronounced. “Disappoint me?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu whispers. “You’re always askin’ me when I’m gonna bring someone home. You want to see me and Osamu get married, too, before you—” His voice catches. “Before. Um. I just wanted to make you happy, ‘s all.”

There’s a long pause, and when Grandma Miya speaks again, her voice is sadder than he expects. Classic Atsumu, he thinks bitterly. Always findin’ a way to mess things up for everyone.

“Atsumu, you daft boy,” his grandma says, “I don’t care if you bring someone or not. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Atsumu swallows, her words entering his chest and settling down with a warmth that wraps around his body. When he looks up, he finds her observing him not with judgement, but with quiet understanding.

“Are you happy?” she asks. 

Something about the way she says it is tinged with hope, and it makes his heart lift. The truth lodges in his throat, too big to swallow, too heavy to speak.

“I like her,” he blurts out finally. “A lot. But she doesn’t—she doesn’t know that either.”

Grandma Miya’s lips lift up in a grin—the same smile that passed on to his mother, and then to him and his brother. “Then go find her. Tell her the truth.”

“But what if—”

“No,” she says firmly. “Life’s too short for all that nonsense. If you care about her, you owe her the truth and an apology. Go on, now. Dinner’s starting soon.”

Atsumu nods, the corners of his lips twitching up in a small, grateful smile. She waves him off with her cane, before turning around and bellowing to Osamu to get her another cup of sake. He heads out to the garden.

The cool night air fills his lungs when he steps out of the ornate doors. He catches sight of you pacing near the koi pond; your movements are tight with frustration. The moonlight shimmers on the water, and dances across your face. The ends of your dress billow out because of the wind and Atsumu swears he forgets how to breathe.

It’s not until he climbs down the steps and comes to a standstill in front of you that you finally acknowledge Atsumu. Even then, it’s with flaring nostrils and flashing eyes, and he knows he’s fucked up really badly this time.

“Atsumu,” you say, voice taut. “What the Hell is going on?”

He winces. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain everything. He tries to speak, but no words come out, and all he can do is watch helplessly as you curl your fingers into your palm with anger.

“Why the fuck did you tell your entire family that I’m your girlfriend?” you snap, when it becomes apparent he isn’t going to say anything. “What did you think was going to happen?”

A dozen half-baked excuses fly over his head, but none of them feel right. Grandma Miya was right—he owes you the truth—but first, he needs to find a way to calm you down.

“Do you realise how messed up that is?” you continue. Your voice increases in pitch, garnering the attention of a few wedding-goers milling about. “You didn’t ask me. You didn’t tell me anything. Do you know how embarrassing it was to get bombarded by all your relatives asking me how long we’ve been dating? They think we’re something that we’re not—fuck it all, they think I’m something I’m not.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Atsumu pleads, finally having found his voice. “I just—”

“Just what?! Just thought it would be easier? Just wanted to impress your family?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No. I just—shit, I dunno—I didn’t want my grandma to think I was screwing around. I didn’t want my relatives to look at me with pity ‘cause I can’t even stay in a decent relationship for longer than three weeks!”

Atsumu searches your face for something—some sort of reaction to his words. But you’re silent, and he can’t read your face. He can’t tell if you’re angry, hurt, both, or something else entirely, and it’s making him feel even more out of his depth.

“What were you thinking, Atsumu?” you ask softly. Your teeth worry your bottom lip, and he resists the urge to give in and kiss you silly.

“I wasn’t thinkin’,” he says, hoarsely. “I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I should have.”

You don’t say anything for a long while; Atsumu thinks he’s said too much. But then, you speak and the bite in your voice has reduced.

“You didn’t think about me. You didn’t think ‘bout how I’d feel being that person for you.” 

Your words ring hollow in his ears. The hurt in your voice makes his stomach twist with guilt. He wants to defend himself, but what could he possibly say? Instead, he looks at you quietly, hoping against all hope that somehow you will understand.

“Fuck,” Atsumu mutters under his breath, more to himself than you. He takes a tentative step forward, but you hold up a hand.

“You don’t—” Your voice trembles. “You don’t get to just walk over to me and give me some half-assed apology, Atsumu.”

Atsumu stops, letting silence blanket you both once more. He stares at you for a moment, at your beautiful face and your beautiful dress, and without thinking, he steps closer, his hand reaching out.

You don’t pull away—not immediately.

He’s close enough now that he can see his reflection in your eyes, the small tremor in your lips. Something inside him shifts, something urgent, something that makes his head spin. He doesn’t know what he’s doing until it’s too late. 

He curls his hand around your waist and pulls you in, crashing your lips with his. He feels you stiffen at first—but then you kiss him back, hard and sharp, and everything in him unwinds.

It isn’t gentle or sweet. It isn’t tender, the way Atsumu had always imagined his first kiss with you would be like. It’s angry—you are angry at him, and he is angry at himself. 

It’s over far too quickly. Atsumu’s chest heaves with each breath he takes. You gawk at him, wide-eyed and breathless; a mirror to the expression on his own face, most likely. 

“I—” Atsumu starts, but the sentence gets lost somewhere in his brain when you take a step back.

“I’m not some… prop to your little charade, Atsumu,” you say. “So unless this means something to you—like it does for me—don’t do things you’ll regret.”

“I won’t,” Atsumu promises. His voice is gruff, his heartbeat a rapid staccato against his rib cage. “I could never. I like you too much for that.”

You look at him like he looked at you earlier—like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, like you’re drinking in the sight of him and trying to commit him to memory. It comes out as a whisper when you say, “What?”

“God, ____, I like you. I like you so much I don’t know what to do with myself when you’re around.” He owes you the truth, and so the truth is what you will get. He’s not very good with words—you know this, and he’s sure you will recognise this for what it is: he’s laying his heart bare for you to take and keep safely for him.

“Me too,” you say. “Me too, Atsumu. Me too.”

He kisses you again, gentle and tender and sweet, his hand placed on the curve of your neck and your hands clutching the front of his shirt. 

Osamu finds him and you later, curled into each other’s sides. Atsumu’s cheeks colour when his brother shoots him an impressed look.

“Finally,” he says. “Been waitin’ forever for this buffoon to get his head out of his ass and make a move.”

Atsumu doesn’t deny it, and you laugh softly. “Been waitin’ for him myself,” you say, squeezing his arm affectionately.

“Anyways,” says Osamu. “Grandma Miya’s lookin’ for Tsumu. She says she can’t wait to meet his new girlfriend.”

Atsumu’s mouth splits into a grin. “Tell her we’ll be right there,” he says.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ My Favourite Person | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Summary: And as much as she wanted to ignore it, she knew that what she felt for him had become more than casual. [Inspired by Casual by Chappell Roan]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Part 3 of my Is It Casual Now? series: Masterlist

The morning light was barely creeping into the room when she woke up, still nestled in Charles’ arms. His breathing was soft and steady, his face nuzzled into her neck. She’d almost forgotten how they’d ended up here—wrapped up in each other after a night of celebrations that neither of them seemed eager to end.

But her peaceful morning was interrupted by her phone vibrating almost nonstop on the bedside table. She groaned softly, trying to ignore it, but the constant buzzing wasn’t easy to ignore.

Careful not to wake Charles, she leaned over and grabbed her phone, only to see her group chat blowing up with notifications.

Friend 2: "Morning, mystery girlfriend. Saw the video. Care to explain all those face kisses?"

Friend 1: "So… how was your night? 😏 Don’t leave out any details."

Friend 2: "Did he put that winning energy to good use? Just saying, he looked like he had a lot to celebrate."

Friend 3: "Saw the videos. You guys definitely looked like ‘just friends’… in an alternate universe maybe."

She stifled a laugh, her cheeks heating up as she scrolled through their messages. Her friends were relentless.

Friend 1: "Are you still in his bed right now? Girl. Spill!"

Friend 2: "If I were you, I wouldn’t even be checking my phone right now. Priorities, babe."

Friend 1: "Okay, so… are you going to tell us what’s going on with you and Charles?"

Friend 2: "Girl, don’t even try to pretend! We all saw the videos."

Friend 3: "Face kisses? All over?? That doesn’t look like ‘just friends’ to me."

Friend 3: "Not to mention that ‘just friends’ don’t exactly spend the night… 😏"

She sighed, knowing they wouldn’t let it go easily. Her friends had always been relentless, especially when it came to her love life—or lack of one. She typed back a quick response.

You: "It’s not like that. Seriously. We’re just friends."

Friend 1: "Oh, just friends? Because he was all over you, and everyone saw it!"

Friend 2: "Exactly! There’s literally a thread online about how ‘in love’ Charles looked hugging you. It’s adorable."

Her cheeks flushed as she read through their messages, her stomach doing a tiny flip at the memory of Charles’ face lighting up when he’d found her in the crowd after his victory. The way he’d pulled her close, practically sweeping her off her feet, felt like a vivid, joyful blur. It had been so natural, so… right. She pushed the thought away and took a steadying breath. 

You: "No, really. He’s just… He’s just like that. He’s affectionate with everyone."

Friend 3: "Uh-huh. So why is the entire internet convinced he’s madly in love with you?"

A link popped up in the chat, and she clicked on it reluctantly. It led to a popular Twitter thread, where dozens of fans were posting clips from the day before. The first video showed Charles wrapping her in a tight hug at the barriers, his face beaming as he peppered her with kisses. She hadn’t even realized it looked that intense. But there, on the screen, it seemed undeniably intimate. They looked like they were in their own world.

You:“Come on, guys, He was just celebrating. It was a big moment.”

 she typed, trying to brush it off

Friend 1: "A big moment where he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Sure, we’ll believe that. 🙄"

Friend 2: "Have you even seen how everyone’s reacting? They’re calling you ‘Charles’ mystery girl.’ People are actually dying to know who you are."

The messages kept rolling in, and every one of her friends had something to say. She glanced at the thread again, scrolling through the comments.

Fan 1: "Did you guys see the way he looked at her? I’m deceased."

Fan 2: "Who is she, and where did she come from? Because they are TOO cute together."

Fan 3: "Charles Leclerc just won in Monaco and went straight to his girl like it was the last lap of his life."

The more she read, the more she could see why people might think there was something between them. She and Charles looked… cozy. Her cheeks warmed as she replayed their moment in her head. She couldn’t deny that the two of them together, lost in the celebration, had felt almost surreal.

But then, she shook her head, dismissing the thought. Charles was just excited. It didn’t mean anything.

You: "You guys are seriously reading too much into this. He’s just a friend. Nothing more."

Friend 3: "Right. Just friends who look at each other like they’re the only people on earth."

Friend 2: "Just friends who also happen to be practically plastered all over each other. You’re not fooling anyone."

She let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. She hadn’t expected things to spiral like this. Her friends’ teasing was relentless, and while part of her found it amusing, another part couldn’t shake the flicker of doubt that crept in.

Could there be more between her and Charles? They’d been spending so much time together, and he did seem unusually attentive, even when he was halfway around the world. She couldn’t deny the closeness they shared, but… dating? They weren’t dating.

But when she glanced back at the video, seeing the unfiltered joy in Charles’ eyes as he hugged her, she couldn’t help but think… maybe there was something there. Just maybe.

But she wouldn’t let herself dwell on it for long. Not with her friends gleefully piling on the teasing.

You: "Okay, okay! Enough! It’s nothing serious. Just a friend who won a race and got excited. End of story."

Her friends sent back a flood of laughing emojis, followed by a slew of more questions, but she simply set her phone down, laughing to herself. 

“What’s so funny?” Charles mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his pout was almost enough to make her laugh again. He nestled his face into her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin. “I’m literally right here, and you’re laughing at your phone.”

She grinned, scrolling through one last message. “Are you seriously jealous of my friends right now? I’m in bed with you, remember?”

He let out a dramatic sigh, shifting closer until she could feel his lips just grazing her neck. “But you’re not laughing with me,” he complained, a whiny edge to his voice that only made him sound more endearing. “I want all your attention, not just some of it.”

“Oh, poor Charles,” she teased, lowering her phone to look at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “It must be so difficult being this needy first thing in the morning.”

“Needy?” he huffed, narrowing his eyes at her, though his lips quirked with a playful glint. “You make me this way, you know. It’s not fair.”

She poked his cheek, unable to stop smiling. “How tragic. Do you want me to make it up to you?”

“Maybe,” he murmured, his eyes brightening. He reached over, snatching her phone and tossing it to the far side of the bed. With a grin, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down and pinning her against the sheets. “No more distractions,” he declared, his tone playful but his gaze warm and intent.

“Charles!” She squirmed, laughing as he tightened his hold, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Say I’m your favorite,” he insisted, his voice taking on that stubborn, whiny edge.

“Not a chance,” she managed, her laughter spilling over as she tried to wiggle free.

He only raised an eyebrow, smirking as he started tickling her sides. “Then I’ll just have to keep this up.”

“Alright, alright!” she gasped, breathless with laughter. “You’re my favorite!”

He grinned triumphantly, loosening his hold but keeping her close. “See? Was that so hard?”

She rolled her eyes, still catching her breath. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it,” he whispered, his face just inches from hers, eyes shining with affection.

“Maybe,” she admitted softly, reaching up to trace a finger along his jaw.

Without another word, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, gentle kiss that melted away any lingering teasing. His hand slipped to her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin as he deepened the kiss, warmth and affection replacing all the playfulness from a moment before.

When they finally pulled apart, he pressed his forehead to hers, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Now, that’s how you start a morning,” he murmured.

She chuckled, her fingers playing with his messy hair. “You’re way too pleased with yourself, you know that?”

He grinned, pulling her even closer. “Just happy to have you here.”

After Charles left for his next round of races, life in Monaco settled back into its usual rhythm. The mornings felt quieter without him there to pull her back into bed, and her evenings held a little less warmth without his familiar presence beside her. Still, she filled her days with work, nights with friends, and tried not to think too hard about how easily she missed him.

Charles, however, was determined to make his absence less noticeable. His texts came in constantly—quick messages about his day, random pictures from the track, and even the occasional food pic with captions like, Would be better if you were here to share it.

He called often too, squeezing her into his schedule no matter how busy he was, even if just to say a quick goodnight. But sometimes, especially late at night, his voice would soften over the phone.

“I miss having you around, you know,” he’d say, a hint of a sigh slipping through. “Got so used to having you in my bed, it feels weird to sleep alone now.”

She’d laugh, leaning back in her own bed, wishing he were there to say it in person. “Is that so?” she’d tease, although his words always made her heart flutter a little.

“Yes, it’s terrible,” he said one evening, his voice warm and familiar in her ear. “I’ve been lying here, missing everything about you—your smile, that cute little laugh, even the way you take up half the bed.”

“Excuse me? I do not take up half the bed,” she protested, grinning to herself.

“Oh, you absolutely do. And you’re a pillow thief, by the way,” he shot back playfully.

“Pillow thief?” she scoffed, a laugh slipping out. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who steals all the blankets. How many times did I wake up freezing because of you?”

“Okay, maybe that happened… once or twice,” he admitted, chuckling. “But you didn’t mind, did you? You’d just scoot closer.”

“Maybe,” she replied softly, feeling a warmth spread through her. “Guess you’ll just have to keep missing me then.”

He chuckled, the sound low and full of affection. “I don’t like it,” he murmured. “I think about it way too much, actually… how much I miss having you here.”

The conversations always left her smiling, wrapped in a warmth that kept her thoughts drifting back to him more often than she cared to admit. But every so often, reality would remind her what this was supposed to be—light and casual, no expectations or promises. She tried to keep that in mind, even when he’d text her goodnight with a little heart emoji or send her random selfies, always making sure to stay connected in a way that seemed more than just casual.

One afternoon, scrolling through her social media, she stumbled upon a clip from Charles’s latest interview. Her curiosity piqued, she clicked on it, smiling to herself as she settled into the couch.

The interviewer was smiling, a teasing glint in her eyes. “So, Charles,” she began, leaning in conspiratorially, “there’s been a lot of talk about this mysterious someone you’ve been spending time with in Monaco. Is there a new girlfriend in your life? Will she be at the next race?”

At the mention of girlfriend, her heart skipped, a quiet, hopeful anticipation rising within her. She watched Charles’s reaction closely, waiting to see what he would say.

Charles chuckled, brushing off the question with an easy smile. “Oh, no, nothing like that,” he said lightly. “She’s just a really close friend.”

She blinked, feeling her heart sink just a little. The words just a friend echoed in her mind, leaving a faint sting that she hadn’t expected. She took a steadying breath, reminding herself not to read into it. After all, they’d never defined what they were, and she knew he didn’t mean to hurt her. They’d both agreed to keep things casual, to take it day by day without complicating things.

But as she replayed the clip, she couldn’t deny the tiny pang of disappointment gnawing at her. She tried to brush it off, telling herself she was being silly—after all, they hadn’t talked about being exclusive, and they’d never put a label on whatever this was between them. She hadn’t even thought she wanted one until now, but his words left her feeling strangely empty.

Later that night, as she lay in bed, she tried to shake off the ache. When he called, his usual cheerful voice greeted her, and she did her best to sound normal, even though the thought of just a friend lingered at the back of her mind.

“Hey, you,” he said warmly. “What’s my favorite person up to?”

She bit her lip, feeling the familiar warmth of his words soothe some of her unease. “Oh, you know,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light. “Just laying here, missing my favorite blanket thief.”

He chuckled. “Ah, so you finally admit it—I am your favorite.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” she shot back playfully, though there was a softness in her voice. “I still haven’t forgiven you for stealing my blankets.”

“Is that right?” he said, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “Guess I’ll just have to come back and make it up to you.”

She felt her heart skip a beat, imagining him back here with her. “Hmm, that sounds promising,” she teased, though her words held an honesty she hadn’t intended to let slip.

He paused, his voice softening. “I do miss you, you know. life just isn’t the same without you.”

His words tugged at her heart, leaving her conflicted all over again. She wanted to believe he felt the same way she did, but his casual dismissal earlier had planted a seed of doubt, one that made her wonder if she was letting herself fall for someone who wasn’t ready to catch her.

As they continued talking, she found herself drifting back to his earlier words in the interview, that easy laugh as he brushed off their connection as something platonic. And even though she tried to push it away, a small part of her couldn’t help but wish he’d called her more than just a friend.

When their call ended, she lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, her mind a tangled mess of emotions. She tried to remind herself that they were both free to come and go as they pleased, that neither of them had promised anything more than companionship and a little fun. But her heart had other ideas, leaving her to wrestle with the unsettling feeling that she was beginning to care far more than she should.

And as much as she wanted to ignore it, she knew that what she felt for him had become more than casual.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[zeherili-ankhein]

Ok guy I was feeling really bad that I didn't write out something to you guys in that moots giving chain so here's my separate moot appreciation post

Firstly

@foreignink yeah I don't know when you will come online again OR if you'll come online again but honestly speaking, you are one of my most beloved person both online and irl. You were the first one ever who listened to my endless ramblings and stupid stories I made up no matter how questionable or out of pocket they were. I loved sitting next to you and chatting away the entire break. I miss you I miss you since the day we last saw eachother after crying like idiots infront of the school. You will always be my baby mwah I love you <3 ✨💚🧡 everything orange always reminds me of you.

@randomx123 you are so cool :D You were one of the first even people I actually talked to on Tumblr and the one of the first ever Bangali too. I loved listening to your story that's really really a great story. You are like that one cousin dada I never had. I like all the random (pun included) conversations we have and basically everything else. You are one of the few people whom I send random (pun) asks with basically anything and everything. Then I loved your moodboards during Pujo and you swearing always makes me roll with laughter XD You are in my favourite person catagory

@krishna-priyatama you are literally my favourite person I met on Tumblr. Thank god to the day we started chatting, you are a literal blessing to my life if I'm being honest. The only person who ever understood my crazyness and the intensity of my love for Chhota Bheem and other cartoons and matched my weirdass freak. Chatting with you is the highlight of my day which no matter how bad the day goes it always brings a smile to my face. I have no proper words to say tbh just love ya tons tons 🫂💖

@igotadigbickandureadthatwrong yeah I remember finding your main blog on a random day in boshonto (yes pun) and that introduced me to the Vasant cult and every other funny mytho shits. We hadn't interacted at all before untill I dropped those Cult rituals into your ask box, and from then on I literally had a blast sending and receiving asks filled with theories headcanons memes metas and basically everything else. I still wait for when you'll drop your next crazy ask and it will make me take a round around my house. And then cursedblr made it more unhinged lmao :3 ✨💚 if I am being honest I wanna violently throw paint balls at you

@jeahreading NOW you, I remember our first fight over baked roshogolla and you being my roshogolla anon for some hours. I was so fun... One of the best things ever because I got to discuss sweets with someone online so frankly for the first time. You are one of my favourite person on Tumblr literally and maybe one of the very few whom I have given a nickname. I loved loved loved sharing and received pujo details with you and the love for food we share is so dear to me. I hope we can meet irl one day 🥲 I wanna squish you in a hug so bad you have no idea. We'd me unstoppable. Love you a tons 💚✨💖 the Batasha to my Chini <3

@mi-stress-of-chaos mummyyyyy I don't remember when we started interacting or when we became such crazy buddies but it was definitely related to the cursedblr which is a blessing curse in my life. Then you became chaos mummy one of my favourite internet parents. I loved every single of our cursed and normal interactions and all the other shits we did and your blog is one of the best blogs on Tumblr. You are too cool and chaotic to even be friends with a lame loner like me but I am thankful we are because you are lovely 💜💖✨

@shinchansbitch if I remember correctly ig our first interaction was when you rebligged one of my shinchan incorrect quotes... Honestly speaking I didn't knew what to say at firat and it took a lot of time for us to become proper interacting moots but I'm glad we did because you are one of the coolest moat amazing person I met here and ilysm for that. You are one of the best ever internet parent I ever had. Your shitposting is one of the best things ever, I love love love reblogging from you they are the best. 🩷💝✨

@tum-naam-sochlo-merese-ni-hora favourite person ever to overexaggerated and complicate things with. Best didi ever. The coolest person to ever walk on this planet, you are one of the funniest people on this entire universe. We also started interacting because of Vasant and it was the best thing ever. I love your art you are one of the best artist I ever know. You inspired me so much to make my own art and you were one of the first people who encouraged me to post my paper flowers. If I could I would make a tons of paper flowers, you are too good to me. Ilysm you are amazing. 💜💚💖✨

@schrodinger-ka-billa you are the best ever otter god ever and one of the best oersons with whom I interacted. And the only one whom I gave the tag of didi openly (but I'm your didi too lol) I love chatting with you here you the too funny and sweet. Even if our views on the marauders are somewhat different I love that I have found another marauders fan, that's one of the best thing ever in mankind's history. Also I loved hiw caring you are and your asks with buggies were one if the best things ever that happened to me. Ily a tins you are one of my favourite 💚🦦✨

@wulfricnavy we also started interacting during the daddymon thing I think, but anyways you are one of my favourites. I love your fanfic and I'm always waiting for when you will drop your next chapter (do it quick man). You are the best ever dadaji on the internet, a literal legend. I don't know what to say except I like the way you are interested in so many series and you are really really cool :D you are like a neighborhood bhaiya who got backpain ✨💚

@no-idea-where-i-am-lost you are a cutie :D the bestest thakuma everrrrr. Honestly I'm so glad Wulfric introduced you to us you are so sweet and one of the best people here. And one of the Bangalis with whom I enjoyed sharing Pujo moments. You should interact more it would be nice to talk and do more shenanigans together. Also cursedblr awaits you (even tho you've joined) and I really really really really like you so much you are a pookie person 🧡✨💖

@desigurlie you are so so so cool I can't even explain :D you're blog is one of my most favourite blogs, I love your metas and fic and moodboards and the way you do dhobi pachhad to shit anons and other people. You are one of the raddest most amazing didi person I even know. Our first interaction was also because of Vasant if I remember and then it was because of Mahabharat. You are one of my favourite persons online and if I could I'd give you a big fluffy hug and those paper tulips I made for you ilysm 🫂✨💖💚

@intellectual6666 cool cool person I love your fics and your vibe and in general you are kne of the coolest persons here. I don't remember how exactly we became moots and started interacting but your blog is one of the best things on this app and you yourself are one of the sweetest here. You are also like that parar bondhu jar sathe khub bhalo vibe kora jaye. I honestly want to share narkel er naru with you as we both sit quietly and enjoy the peace or gossip who knows. You are a big cutie and I would make you flower crowns if I knew you irl 💐✨💖

@hellincarnation FINALLY the bestest war criminal ever you are so cool and honestly one of the best fucking people I recently talked to. You don't even know how much your shenanigans makes me laugh or how much I enjoy talking to you. We should seriously take over the planet and then have a party. You match my crazy so much its iconic. We really are a duo for chaos. I would do cool and cringe poses with you in public if I knew you irl lol ✨💖🩵 and never hesitate to ask me any question related to thing you wanna know. And ofcourse you are one of the very few who got a nickname. Aro the car guy Satan.

@im-on-crack-send-help YOU ARE SUCH A CUTIE and you're so sweet and caring and nice and cute and basically everything nice and shiny reminds me of you. Ilysm you are one of my favourites and its sad we don't gwt to interact much we should do that honestly but anyways I'd make you all the flower bouquets with paper flowers If I can and I want to sit and eat cookies with you as we watch movies and cry ✨🧡♥️💖

@sumiyxx another cutie! You are one of the best people here and one of the pooliest too. Even if we interact less you are one of my favourite peoples here and I hope we can vibe more and do crazy. Lysm you silly darling you deserve the world and beyond and I'd give you as much as I can once I take over this planet ✨💖💚♥️

@lyrebirb you are one of my favourites easily. Your shitposting era was my favourite and you are so amazing and cool and awesome. You are my favourite birby (I say as a bird hater) and ilysm and I'm so hlad you are back. I loved the time we had a discourse over mermaid meat and eggs it was so funny and K enjoyed it so much you are so cool ✨💐💖🫂

@stxrrynxghts you are such a amazing person and I love love love taking to you :D your fics are amazing and I'm always looking forward to read them (but don't overwork yourself please) you are one of the few people with whom I shared soucha nd you are so amazing and cool and admiration amd everything all together I don't even deserve to be your friend. You are one of my favourite people here and talking to you is so great I love it 🫂💖💙

There are so many more people I'm forgetting to tag but I live y'all so much you precious pookies you all are like those fruits and nuts in my chocolate.

[auclairedetoru]

Best friend!Eren loves college, he really does! He got into the one he wanted and is majoring in something he loves, and in return his grades are doing fantastic, top of his class even!

Except for that one specific class.

God, just thinking about it pissed him off. He doesn't know why he couldn't understand it, it's like the professor was speaking in a dead language. He came back home with a headache every time he tries to focus and learn like everyone else. He swears it was going to be his 13th reason eventually. It made him rethink his entire life plan and whether it was worth getting his degree.

Seeing his frustration, his best friend y/n decided to help him out. Did she understand anything he had written in his notes? Absolutely not, it wasn't a class she needed to take, but she hated seeing him so lost and stressed, especially when they were so close to finales week.

“You like rewards, how about you give yourself a little treat every time you memorise something, if it works on dogs it can work on humans.”

Eren thought it was genius. The smile that spread on his face gave her hope that she might've finally solved his problem and gave him at least a little bit of motivation, but what Eren was thinking about was the opposite of hers. He agreed with the idea of a reward, but what kind of reward specifically?

Well...

“How about I memorise everything, and if I'm successful, you give me a kiss.”

Y/n felt dizzy at how fast she turned to look at him, eyes nearly popping out of her skull. A kiss?! What was he thinking?! She might have always had a suspicion he was dropped on his head as a baby, but this just confirmed it.

“Are you crazy?”

“Crazy for you.” he wiggled his eyebrows at her making her roll her eyes. God, he was so annoying, why was she friends with him again?

Despite thinking he's mentally unstable, she did give it a thought. Not every day you get the chance to kiss your hot best friend that you have a massive crush on, right? Might as well take the opportunity, it might never happen again. Plus, he clearly wants it to happen, he wouldn't suggest it if he didn't want to kiss her too.

“Fine,” she adds a hint of annoyance in her voice so he wouldn't figure out how nervous the thought alone made her, “let's see if you can do it.”

Eren was motivated, to say the least. He locked himself in his room for three days, only leaving for the bathroom and to grab food. He missed out on two parties, his neighbors fist fighting, the release of a new season of his favourite show and a boba tea date with Armin.

On Monday evening, he went to y/n's apartment and sat in her living room with the biggest confident smirk she has ever seen on him. He has always been very cocky, but not over something he was crying over three days prior.

“Ready?” she shuffled his flash cards to give him a little bit of a challenge and to see if he can remember everything if they're not in the order he memorised them. Eren nods, “let's do this, I'm ready for my reward.”

... And it worked.

She quizzed him on everything in every possible way. She even tried to trick him, but he was able to catch on quickly and prove her wrong. After weeks of struggling and threatening to drop out over this subject, Eren finally got a hold of it... All because of a promise of a kiss.

A kiss he was eagerly waiting for.

Y/n has never felt her cheeks heat up like this in her life. As much as she knew her best friend is very smart and could do anything he sets his mind on, she really didn't think he could pull this off, not after he tried everything. Tutors, bombarding the professor with questions, help online, they all didn't work! How was she supposed to have any faith that a stupid little kiss reward would make his brain magically start understanding this class!?

It's dumb, really. But she did want it too.

“Well,” Eren started with a huge smile, “I've proven myself, now please give me the reward I worked hard for and rightfully deserve.”

With a shaky breath, y/n leaned in, and without wasting any more time, Eren leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.

She was expecting it, of course she was, but did that make it any less shocking? Did that make her heart beat steadier? No, quite the opposite actually. Her hands were shaking, her heart was performing acrobatics behind her ribcage, and she wanted to run away and never be seen after they pulled away.

For Eren, it felt like heaven. The kiss was quick, too quick in his opinion, but he was able to feel the softness of her lips against his. God, the things he would do to feel them again. He wanted to pull her on his lap and kiss her until he was too tired to keep his eyes open, then he would pull her into his arms to sleep just to go back to kissing her the next morning.

“Can I have one more?” he asked while looking down at her shy expression.

“no! Stop embarrassing me!” she hit him on the chest before burying her face in his hoodie. He laughs and wraps his arms around her, squeezing her a little and teasing her a little more.

When Eren thinks back to their first actual kiss, he laughs at how oblivious both of them were to each other's feelings. They were very transparent about them, showing the other very clear signs that they wanted more, but they chose to ignore them and instead overthink about getting rejected and ruining their friendship.

That was all in the past now, and with the way the present is going, they can't be happier.

More best friend!Eren.

[pumpkinghostbunnyy]

So I've recently been getting into oddities, I got two little butterfly wings and a bone in little jars to start my collection and one of my teeth, weird I know, but i had depression growing up , didn't care for my teeth and dental care is fucking expensive so when one of my teeth inevitably fell out (and I had finished crying) I saved It and cleaned it and it now lives on my shelf. But this made me think about the cod characters and their little goth gf

Price🥃- price is honestly such a daddy let's be honest, I genuinely think he'd not be too fazed due to his line of work, its not like he's not seen bones before, but he'd maybe be a teeny bit concerned about his little ones fascination with death, 'yes dove the little butterfly is beautiful but also why do you want to taxidermy the cat when it eventually dies?', he's so used to death but his little angel is so pure in his eyes so he worries from time to time but ultimately it makes her happy so he supposes it's not a bad thing. I do think he'd let her have her own space in the house for them , probably build her custom shelves for them himself. his angel doesn't gotta worry about anything just gotta sit on his lap whilst he sips his whiskey listening to her ramblings all about the different ones she wants to collect.

Gaz 🪽- Gaz is honestly an angel (a sexy, charming, beautiful little angel) he'd probably have known his love a long time, maybe gone to school with her or something along those lines so I don't think he'd be grossed out by these things, I think he'd just except his lover is a little weird but he knew that from the beginning, that's how they became friends never mind lovers. I do think he'd go with his girl to all the little gothic shops and fairs, 'yeah love that one's good, can we get a frog? I think this one looks cool'. He wouldn't be obsessed with it like his love but he wouldn't mind it, I think he'd just be neutral about it, I do also think he'd get her custom ones for valentine's day, like how people have those mice in different situations and outfits, he'd get her one holding her favourite dried flowers and an engraved wooden base with their anniversary on.

Soap 🧼- I love this big baby but he'd be so fucking whiny about it, 'hen wha the fuck is tha?..I can see it's bones!'. He'd definitely tell the team and absolutely would make jokes about it but he's mad for his little bonnie so this ain't gonna make him quit his love for her , fuck no. I think he'd go to antique shops with his lass but absolutely would complain about how he feels watched from all the beady little eyes on him, and please if she names any of her little creatures he'd take the mick 'aye! Stop naming m like their our wee kids!'.

Alejandro 🫀- honestly I think Alejandro wouldn't mind, his amor has his heart, you want the house to look like Halloween all year round so be it . his abuela taught him to respect the dead so I think he'd talk in his head to the little creatures, he has to move one to get something of the shelf, 'lo siento amiguito' (sorry little friend) , god forbid he breaks a jar ones in, not only would he be so apologetic to his little luna (moon) but to the little creature he disturbed, he'd fix it himself within an hour and get them a better jar, i think he'd even leave his favourite creatures offerings during the day of the dead.

Farah🌛- I think Farah would be Hiding her relationship with her sol ( sun) , her girl is so soft and bubbly but has this dark little look to her, but because of her culture and high risk job Farah keeps the relationship private to protect her girl. But I think there'd be signs, she'd buy her Bella (beautiful) matching taxidermy jewelry, I think some kind of bones or teeth, she loves her girl so much, she wants to show she cares by wearing her weird little interest.

Now onto the guys that made my little vampire heart go wild with this idea

Konig 🌩️- firm believer that konig sees her one day and is just obsessed immediately, I think he'd live more rural in the mountains and would bring little trinkets he finds, almost worshiping his spatz (sparrow) like how people worship different god's by leaving offerings. I think he'd hunt his food often so he'd give schatz the bones and fur, he'd clean them too and would use the fur to make her things to add to her collection, anything to show he can provide for her. I think she'd be the small towns little witch, at least that's what people say, I think she's just a regular girl who loves cottages and creepy stuff but small villages talk, and konig is hooked immediately.

Keegan 🦷- Keegan isn't bothered, he'll he'd make it you, go into the woods and hunt for bones and dead bugs to preserve for you. I think he'd go to all the fairs and shops and I think he'd even get some himself for the animals he likes, not many but I definitely think he'd have a crow or something. my first thought with Keegan is on their anniversary he'd order his darling blood jewelry made from his own blood, I don't think he'd even think to much into it, the price doesn't matter and blood doesn't bother him, anything for his woman.

Ghost 💀- we all know that ghost is closed off and doesn't love easily so you can imagine when he does love he falls hard, in walks in this little thing and he's fucking hooked. He doesn't care how morally wrong it is, she's his, the second he sees her, just a little thing, he's gotta protect her, provide for her. Some how he worms his way into her life (definitely a meer coincidence and I'm sure no stalking involved at all) and he's not going no where. I think he'd buy her anything she wanted, he doesn't care about the price and I think he'd have some... unethical ways to get her certain oddities let's say, he kills an enemy and notices he has a prosthetic eye or something , well his little bunny would love that for her shelf, he can clean bones no problem, and if she asks where he got a human skull because they're so expensive and rare well 'got em from an antique shop' thats all she needs to know.

[xxcallmemaryxx]

Could I have a HC of IV letting reader wear his jacket?

He’s a sweetie, his intentions are pure. But sometimes you make him a little bit evil. There’s nothing ten bucks can’t fix. :)

IV x GN reader

Under the cut ~ <3

“IV it’s gone I can’t find it-“

“It’s probably in the car, quick let’s go we’re already gonna be late.”

You guys stayed up late last night. IV had the guys over for dinner, they ended up staying back for some drinks and before you knew it, it was 1am. After a long night of hosting you both crawled into bed, dead to the world in mere moments, and didn’t set any alarms for the plans you’d made for the following day.

A text from ii is what woke IV up, something about traffic and it being best if you two took another route. Which is how you find yourself here. Rushing around the house like psychos trying to get ready as quickly as possible. Except your good jacket, which you had hung by the door especially to wear today, is gone. You can’t find it. And you have no idea where it is.

“IV, I’m gonna be so fucking cold if I don’t have it.”

“I’ll buy you a new one when we get there if I have to, just get your cute ass in the car.”

Spoiler: it wasn’t in the car.

And now you’re on your way to the meeting spot you agreed to meet everyone at, pretending that you’re not even bothered by the cold. Of course the gathering today had to be in a nice park, it’s lovely and it’s quiet. But there’s not one part of you that can enjoy it. You're already dreaming of a hot shower tonight.

“You’re a terrible liar, love.”

“IV, just drop it. I'm not in the mood.”

You frown at the ground. It’s damp and it chills your feet through your shoes. You can’t help but silently wish you didn’t come out at all today.

“One day you’ll realise you’re lucky to have me.”

You can’t even question him on his cryptic comments because your thoughts are immediately cut short. He’s draped something over your shoulders, you don’t even care to find out what it is because the only thing you can acknowledge is that it’s warm. The chill in the wind isn’t nipping at your skin anymore. It feels like you can suddenly breathe again. And when you do all you smell is him.

He’s given you his jacket.

Your head snaps to him. Worry immediately eating at your chest.

“Now you’re just going to be cold why did you-“

Oh.

He was wearing two jackets.

“You were wearing two?”

“Yeah. Thought it was going to be colder but I’m just a bit too warm. Was gonna take it off anyways. Lucky you, huh?”

“This whole time? What kind of evil are you?”

He’s smiling at you. He literally doesn’t care. Because you’re wearing his jacket and you look stunning in it.

“The kind of evil that always comes prepared. I remembered two jackets. You didn’t even remember one.”

You’re huffing and rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him, but you’re smiling. You feel much better now, and you feel so lucky to have him.

“Thank you. But in my defence I didn’t forget it, it’s gone from where I left it I don’t know what happened… I was sure I-“

“Don’t worry about it, love. The day is saved. Now go say hi to the girls. They’ve been dying to see you.”

“You’re an angel, IV. I don’t know what the fuck I’d do without you.”

“Freeze to death, apparently.”

He sends you off with a kiss to the top of your head and a swat to your backside. He watches you part ways for a moment, admiring you dressed up in his favourite jacket. It makes his heart swell and his cheeks warm. It empties his brain and fills it with the impurest thoughts imaginable at the same time.

He watches the girls welcome you into their circle, IIs there as well. He’s happy you get along with his friends. He’s happy they love you.

His ogling is interrupted by a clap to the back from III.

“We get it, mate.”

“Shove off, prick. You’re already on my hit list.”

He has the gall to chuckle.

“Mission success, then?”

“It won’t be if you don’t keep your fucking voice down.”

“Pay up, then.”

IV huffs with a roll of his eyes, but reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a tenner. Slaps it into IIIs palm and shakes his head.

“You couldn’t wait five minutes, could you?”

III can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, yet again.

“Pleasure doing business, sweetcheeks.”

He saunters off with a smile that screams trouble. Headed straight for you. IV watches him say his hellos to you, compliments your ‘new’ jacket with a sickening smile and seamlessly inserts himself into the conversation you were having with II.

He briefly overhears you asking the tall son of a bitch where he disappeared to last night. He makes up some excuse about forgetting to turn his stove top off. IV can’t help the scoff that escapes him. But he doesn’t have long to dwell on it.

“You actually had him do it?”

Vessel stands next to IV, watching you all cozied up in his jacket.

“I asked him to hide the jacket, fucker took it home with him completely, I have no idea how I’m getting it back.”

“You know he’s going to con you out of another tenner, right? He planned this.”

“Yeah well. I can’t say I’m surprised. Plan worked though.”

“You know, I’ve heard just asking your partner to share clothes works wonders.”

“Alright, enough out of you. Keep your mouth shut.”

Vessel can’t help but laugh at his friend, a big old sweetie pie on the outside with a little bit of something sinister on the inside. Even if it means he ends up with more work in the end.

Vessel claps IV on the shoulder and walks him over to the rest of the group. IV zeros in on you. Comes up behind you and pulls you into his side. You’re in his jacket. You smell like him. You’re surrounded by his friends and you’re glowing.

He’s a very happy man today.

He doesn’t leave your side the whole time. As if you wearing his clothes wasn’t enough, he just needed to keep a hand on you all day as well. You learnt a long time ago that IV gets into these moods, you’d compare him to a lost puppy during these times. He follows you around with hearts in his droopy eyes and a smile that could tell a million stories. He’s so soft and gentle, and listens to every word that slips from your lips. (Except for the ones that tell him to leave you alone.) (You do not need to pee with the door shut.) (You’d think you’d get that by now.)

Sometimes he can reel it in. Like today, surrounded by his friends. But you know just beneath the surface his urges are festering. Every little squeeze of your hand. Or kiss to the forehead. Or quick little cuddles when the wind picks up, are his ways of trying to dampen his own urges to whisk you away, take you back home and bury you both back in bed.

He thought he’d be able to handle seeing you with his name all over you all day. Guess not.

There’s one moment, while you’re out, III was hungry and Vessel wanted a coffee, so you decided to take the short walk to a nearby cafe just down from the park. You and IV hang back, slowly following along but far enough away to be in your own world for a little bit. His hand is intertwined tightly with yours and he’s pulled you so close your arms keep brushing.

“You look stunning, love.”

It’s said in a low murmur, like he wants it to be a secret. A secret that only he knows how good you look. Your nose and cheeks are slightly pink from the chill in the air, your lips are a little bit cracked and his jacket drowns you. But to him you’re just beautiful. The smile you give him almost sends him into cardiac arrest. He thinks if his heart beats any faster it’ll create enough energy to power your house.

He ponders Vessels words. Wonders how you’d feel if he just outright asked you to wear his clothes when you go out together. Or when you go out without him. Or when you’re home for the day. Or when you’re going to bed. He knows you’d say yes, but there’s something about you being so oblivious that gets him all excited. How you unknowingly just let him dress you. Thinking it was pure coincidence, and that you really are just so lucky to have him.

He might tell you one day. He knows he’ll cop a good amount of teasing from you, but until then he’ll settle for watching you feel so at home and safe with him all over you.

____

“What the fuck?”

“What’s wrong, Bub?”

“My jackets back there.”

IV quickly turns to see what you’re looking at. Mid way through tossing his jacket back there now that you’re back in the car, he follows your eyes to the backseat.

And there it is.

Bunched up on the floor like it was there the whole time.

“I must be blind or something, I swear it wasn’t there this morning. Fucking hell… all that and it was here the whole time…”

He turns back to the road and bites back an amused smile.

III might put him through strife sometimes, but he’s clearly not stupid. He makes a mental note to send him a text when you two are home.

Lucky bastard lives to see another day.

.

.

.

Thank you for reading. I love you guys.

[fanaticsnail]

Hey Snail, I was curious. Who's your favorite OP character? I always assumed it was Law and I'm not exactly sure why?? Hope you're feeling ok today! :)

I'm not stressed about this question at all. Nuh uh. Who me? No way. There are so many ways I can answer this and I'm just screaming.

The short answer:

Rosinante Corazon / Heat are tied for an equal first. (There are more, but these two stuck out this morning)

The long, lord of the rings extended edition unstoppable marathon answer:

I love the complexities of Law as a character, which is primarily why I made my original character a Heart Pirate. He's just a little shit, and watching Dressrosa, and even in Sabaody when I first met him as a character, he just seems like the right amount of serious mixed with fun that I love. Law is a Wednesday Adams to Tobiuo's Pugsley or Enid - just friends that would die for one another. He needed her, I think. Their friendship is weapon (Tobiuo) x wielder (Law) and she is more loyal to him than he probably knows. This is likely why you assumed he was my favourite, which he is up there and I love writing for him. The heart pirates too. I should write for Jean Bart one day - love that man.

Then there are the Kid Pirates. I love these guys. A crew of over thirty, surviving in a lawless upbringing, their undying loyalty to their feral captain, the really cool devil fruit power - and there's Heat. There is no explanation for his powers other than he has them. It's not a devil fruit, it's just something he can do. Sullen and sunken features, scarred lips, the fact he is a little kinder than the majority of them - and that he was a rival gang leader who chose to serve Kid to help him raise retribution for his beloved Victoria. I love the rapport, the ship design, the silliness between them and the other two Supanovas - they just make me really happy.

And then there's the tall, undercover marine, spy, double agent, silent, lanky, painted, clown-man in a burgundy hat. Between Rosinante and Doflamingo, it's hard to choose who I love more. I adore Doflamingo as an enemy. His rich past and complex history makes me all heart-clenched because I see so much pain in such a small person. Everything was ripped away from him, so he clawed tooth and nail to get back what he believed was rightfully taken.

But Rosinante had the same past. He could've gone with Doflamingo back then, but he didn't. He could've chosen a life of cruelty to get back on the people who wronged him, but he didn't. He could've chosen to live out a simple life as a civilian fisherman if he wanted, but he didn't. He became a marine, hellbent on ensuring his brother didn't get too out of hand and to take down criminal empires from the inside. And Law changed so much for him. In Doflamingo, he saw death. In a poor, sickly child on the same path as his brother - he saw a second chance to refute the repetition of history. I love him as a character, and he is just gorgeous.

Hoboy, wasn't that a long answer.

I could've gone longer and longer, but I decided to stop myself. These are all just my opinions and personal analysis of the characters. I love them all - but these are ethe two that roll in my head like two stones in the bottom of a sock.

I love this question, thank you so much, Merry. I adore you 🖤🖤🖤. And I am doing wonderfully - just chipping away rather slowly at fics lately due to the season of gift giving being upon us. That, and the chicks are yet to hatch and I'm getting all giddy at baby chickens at Christmas.

[etclouie]

i love your writing so much in back for another request, luke alvez and fluff prompt 18 from the 150 list again

˚୨୧⋆｡ prompt/s; “you cancelled plans for me?” — from 150 prompts

˚୨୧⋆｡ warnings; established relationship, reader has the cold, luke being cute really

˚୨୧⋆｡ a/n; i wrote this on like 10 minutes sleep, so lmk about any errors

— celebrate 600 with me?

you had caught the flu, not exactly aware from where but you were wiped for the past week. you’d stayed in bed the whole week, relying on Luke for everything lately. 

he had a night out scheduled with his friends, and you were adamant on him going to it. even in your sickly state, you helped him pick out what to wear earlier in the day before dosing off again. 

you must’ve woken up a couple of hours later as the room was darker, the bedroom door was creaked open and you could see a light peeking through from down the hall until the sound of the tv was following. 

your eyebrows knit together, glancing to the clock on Luke’s nightstand to cheek the time. he should be out with his friends by now. 

carefully, you climbed out of bed and made your way towards the noise with a blanket wrapped around you. 

only stopping as you seen the back of Luke’s head as he sat on the couch, frowning at the sight before you continued to move closer. Roxy was laying on the right side of him on the couch with her head on his thigh, her head lifting as you stepped on one of the creakier floorboards Luke kept meaning to get fixed. 

“you’re here, shouldn’t you be out?”

your voice was groggy and hoarse from its lack of use, Luke’s head turned towards you and he held out his left hand to you. 

moving over to him and settling on the couch next to him while he wrapped his arm around you, trying to pull back as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“cancelled last minute, told them that my favourite girl is sick and needs taken care of”

he told softly, his usual teasing and boisterous tone nowhere to be found. 

laying your head on his shoulder and letting your eyes flutter shut, humming as the familiar warmth radiated off of him. 

“you cancelled plans for me?”

he tilted his head to meet your tired eyes, a soft chuckle leaving him before he nodded. 

his hand on your back soothing up and down while he spoke softly to you. 

“i’ll always cancel plans to take care of you, you’re my main priority. now, why don’t you choose a movie and explain the plot to me again cause you’ve seen it a thousand times, hm?”

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[seagull-scribbles]

💥Loud and Proud💥

[achilleasfury]

Qinyao👀

they're everything to me, sorry I dont make the rules

(theyre also aesthetically pleasing but i forgor to cross it whoops)

[herecomesthesol]

When I wake up, I'm afraid Somebody else will take my place

Afraid - The Neighbourhood

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

@lizardthelizard Holding out your boy tonight ahaha woops!!

[dangaer]

thinking a lot about in a world where toma might be considered "i would kill for you" and heroine might be labelled "i would die for you", shin stands wholeheartedly in the: would you live for me? in turn

[youaremysunshine-court]

give me 5 reasons not to jump out of my window